One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Number ten paces

FIRE.

"WAIT!"

A gunshot rang out in the open July air as the bullet stuck Alexander Hamilton in his ribs. The pistol that was still aimed at the sky fell from his hand as he finally collapsed to the cold, hard ground. Burr dropped his own gun; the weapon still warm from the recent shot. He was about to run to his fallen foe when his number 2, William P. Van Ness tried to lead him away. "I need to see him.." He mumbled, moving past William to run to Hamilton who was writhing on the ground in pain.

"Alexander.." Burr tried to hold Hamilton steady as he breathed raggedly through the intense pain in his ribs. He held his hand and let him squeeze it. "Alex... I-I'm sorry.." He whispered, shaking his head frantically as guilt and regret hit him faster than the bullet that hit his friend. "I'm so sorry..."

Hamilton squeezed Burr's hand, trying desperately not to cry out in pain. Blood was beginning to soak through his black jacket and onto the ground, creating a sickening crimson puddle underneath the two men. "I-It's okay.." He managed to say before another wave of agony caused him to groan loudly through clenched teeth. "I don't... blame you.."

Tears stood in Burr's hazelnut eyes as they met Alexander's chocolate ones. He kept shaking his head. "It's not okay!" He tried his best to put pressure on the wound with his free hand, cringing when Alexander let out a broken scream at the pressure. "I-I didn't... I didn't want this to happen! I could've.. handled the situation better, you don't deserve this!" He pleaded as Hamilton watched him through fluttering eyelids.

The wounded man shook his head, weakly coughing as blood collected in the back of his throat. "Burr, I-I was a pain in the ass," he muttered. "I've had this coming for a while.. just thought Jefferson w-would get to me first.." He let out a quiet laugh followed by more coughing. Burr held the back of his head to support him.

"H-How can you be smiling..? How can you be okay with this?" Aaron asked, knowing that his friend was acting too calmly.

"I.." More coughing ensued and resulted in blood staining the Caribbean man's quivering lip. "I figured now... would be as good a time as any to finally... take your advice.." He whispered, a small smirk on his pale face.

Talk less, smile more.

"I-I'm sorry about... everything I said.. e-everything I did.. to you..." Hamilton's breathing was becoming more laboured, making it more difficult for the usually articulate man to speak. "For voting for Jefferson.. and.. and saying you didn't have beliefs.." He took a deep, shaking breath before continuing. "You... you were my first friend.. the first person who... really understood me.." He smiled with blood stained teeth. "Thank you.. f-for everything, Aaron.." He trailed off and his eyes began to close.

"Alexander, I-I'm so sorry!" Tears began to stream down Burr's face as he openly cried, cradling the dying man in his arms. He held Hamilton's face gently with blood-covered hands, pressing his forehead to his friend's. "I'm still your friend," He sobbed. "You'll a-always be my friend, Alex..."

Hamilton was suddenly lifted off the ground to be taken to a doctor, leaving Burr alone on that cold July morning.

Alexander Hamilton passed away on July 12th, 1804.