The inside of the van was almost silent. It usually was. The only thing to be heard was the low hum of the computers. The light of the screen filled the space with a glow which reached no further than the faces of Peggy and Lafayette. The two were almost shoulder to shoulder as they watched carefully, listening through headsets to hear what was going on. On the camera footage, they watched the two figures of Hamilton and Jefferson as they stood in the lobby of the expensive hotel. The two men were scanning the room, not talking to each other. Lafayette knew something felt off about them, but couldn't place what.

Suddenly, Hamilton took off without warning, striding towards the stairs that led to the lobby's balcony. Jefferson's eyes darted around, trying to stay discreet as he hissed, "Hamilton, what are you doing?" In his earpiece was silence. Hamilton didn't stop or slow down, and jogged up the grand staircase. "Oh for the love of- Hamilton, stand down, people are noticing you!"

When he was halfway up the stairs, a man by the railing turned sharply and pushed the button for the elevators behind him. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Jefferson started after his teammate at a run, muttering, "We've been spotted, be ready for an emergency pickup, this can't end well."

"Got it," Lafayette said, reaching between the tech to give the back of the driver's cabin three sharp knocks.

On the balcony level, Hamilton wasted no time, sprinting towards the elevators as the man stepped into one and started closing the doors. Jefferson rounded the top of the stairs as Hamilton ran into the elevator doors a moment too late, and then pounded the button to summon another. It took several seconds to appear, making Hamilton more impatient. When he reached him, Jefferson grabbed his arm to stop the furious button pressing.

"Are you insane?"

"He was already onto us, we can still pull this off," Hamilton said, staring at the lights above the elevator doors.

"The only thing that could happen is us getting our asses kicked, or worse, shot. This isn't the time to be reckless."

Hamilton yanked his arm away, giving his partner a sharp glare. "I'm not being reckless, you're being intransigent, it's not too late to take him down."

The elevator doors opened, and Hamilton pushed Jefferson aside in his haste to dive in. Jefferson slipped in before Hamilton could close the doors on him. "We came in with a solid plan, and you've thrown it all out the window!"

"I'm trying to save this mission, he recognized you thanks to your sloppy solo work at the other Agency. I won't let you ruin my first chance to get off the bench!"

Jefferson looked at him, appalled, though he quickly shut up when the elevator stopped on its way up. The two composed themselves and acted casual as the elevator doors opened, revealing their floor. From what they could see, the hallway was empty. Not taking any more chances, Jefferson reached under his suit jacket and silently took out his gun as Hamilton stepped out, with a glance in either direction, before taking off once again at a run. Jefferson followed the best he could, glancing at door numbers as they passed by them. Near the end of the hall, they stopped in front of a door with a 'do not disturb' sign on the handle.

"This isn't a good idea," Jefferson muttered again.

Not listening, Hamilton reached for his gun with one hand as he grabbed the door handle with the other. The door was locked. Jefferson looked up and down the hallway as Hamilton backed up and rammed the door with his shoulder, and then backed up to try kicking it. As he did, Jefferson saw the slightest movement around the corner, and backed into the nearest doorway. An instant later, the hallway was filled with a deafening gunshot, one which had thankfully missed its targets. Hamilton had jumped and flattened him against the wall opposite of Jefferson.

"Thanks for the warning!" he spat as Jefferson raised his gun towards the offending shooter. Two warning shots into the far wall made the shooter duck behind their corner, and the two agents took off running in the opposite direction. The hallway was quiet as they raced along the floor to the next elevator station. Hamilton, reaching it first, was once again impatiently pushing the button as Jefferson covered the rear, ready to shoot again.

In the elevator, they leaned against the walls to catch their breaths. "Seriously," Hamilton said after a few seconds, "You didn't think to mention that I might get shot at?"

"You were fine, they missed," Jefferson replied scornfully. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Hamilton jabbed a finger at him. "I took things into my own hands because he already recognized you!"

Cutting into their argument through their earpieces, Peggy scolded them, "You can argue later, just focus on getting out of there alive!"

The guns were stashed back in their holsters, and their clothes were straightened. They passed through the lobby as calmly as they could, keeping watch out of the corners of their eyes for any sign of further danger.

As soon as the back of the van was closed with the agents inside, Peggy was on them with questions. Despite being the smallest one there, she didn't hold back her annoyance.

"Washington put you both together to be our star team, but you can't even bring one person into our custody?"

"I could have done it if he weren't here," Hamilton sneered.

"That's big talk from the person who screwed it up," Jefferson shot back.

"Mes amis," Lafayette cut in, "What's done is done, there's no point in fighting about it now."

The rest of the ride back to their headquarters happened in stony silence. Neither agent would look at each other until nearly an hour later, when they were called in to talk to Washington.

Even as they walked in, the disappointment in the room was nearly tangible. Washington waited, and Jefferson sat, keeping ahold of his cane, though Hamilton remained standing behind the other chair, passive aggressively sipping his third coffee of the day. When it was clear that he would not be sitting, Washington sighed.

"Peggy brought me a copy of the recordings of your mission." He looked from Hamilton to Jefferson, who were studying the wall and the floor, respectively. "I don't think I need to tell you that both of your behavior was completely unacceptable."

Hamilton burst out, "Things would have been fine if he hadn't been there, I could have done it fine by myself."

"Oh sure," Jefferson said with an eyeroll. "Blame it on the person who didn't try to jump into what was clearly going to be a trap."

Cutting off further response, Washington sharply said, "That's enough. This was the result of the actions of both of you. I'm not reversing my decision for you two to be partners. You're going to have to learn to work together."

"Sir, how can I work with someone who doesn't even tell their partner to beware of possible gunfire?"

At this further complaint, Jefferson grimaced and gripped his cane tighter. Washington noticed his silence, and sighed. He stood up and addressed Hamilton. "I've asked Angelica and Eliza to brainstorm possible teamwork exercises. I want to give you both another chance, but I can't let you back onto the field if this is the result."

Stepping forward, Hamilton protested, "Sir, let me resume field duty on my own, at least until-"

"No, Hamilton. This is final. If you can't learn to work together, I'll have to replace you with Burr."

Jefferson glanced up, and was satisfied to see the horrified expression on Hamilton's face as he plead, "Why should I be replaced, with him? I have far more field experience, he's too cautious, it would never work!"

Washington lowered his voice calmly, coming around his desk. "You're excellent at what you do, Hamilton. We're lucky to have you." He rested a hand on Hamilton's shoulder. "I need a team of capable agents that I can trust with our most sensitive missions. Jefferson has about as much experience as you, but he also has consistency. If you can learn to work together, you'll make a wonderful team, because you can keep up with each other. But I am forced to consider the possibility that you're too unpredictable for the team I'm looking for. After you, Burr has the best qualifications."

Jefferson held his head higher upon hearing that his spot was secure. As he watched, Hamilton had become completely serious. "I won't let you down, sir."

With a small smile and a nod, Washington let go of Hamilton, and invited him to sit. As Hamilton lowered himself into the other chair, Washington returned behind his desk. Together the three of them went over the events of the mission, addressing every detail that contributed to the failure, and discussing how to handle the situation better the next time. Most solutions were as simple as communication and trust.

In the time since the extremely dissatisfactory investigation into the massacre of Jefferson's previous employers, Washington had Jefferson recalling all the information he could, about past and present missions and targets. After all the people had been gunned down, the attackers had set the place on fire, destroying all of their records, ultimately leaving many of the bodies unidentifiable. Jefferson and his only remaining colleague Maddison had both been extremely lucky, Jefferson being left for dead and Maddison being out sick. Jefferson's memory of the files was, of course, extremely limited, but since there was no one else with knowledge of their ongoing jobs, it had fallen to Washington's team to clean up and, in some cases, take over the job themselves at the request of the individual patron. This most recent field mission had not been the first of the set, but it had been one of the more important ones. As such, Washington had assigned it to Jefferson and Hamilton, as their first chance to work together in the field. The plan had been to bring in the target to take the tracker from under his skin, and sync it with their computers so the man could once again be tracked through GPS. As was customary for him, he was only in the city for one night, and traveled with a few bodyguards.

As they returned to sit at their desks, Hamilton and Jefferson walked side by side. Laurens was there waiting for them. He seemed concerned for a moment, but then smiled a little as they approached. "I heard your mission was a flop. It looks like you aren't injured though."

Hamilton's cocky attitude resumed as he bragged, "Who would want to shoot a perfect body?"

Jefferson stopped and rested both hands on his cane, judging Hamilton as he kept walking to better talk with Laurens. "I don't know," he said, "Seems pretty average to me."

Hamilton stopped short and turned back with a puzzling expression, while Laurens burst into laughter. "He's got you there!"

"John, not you too, you're supposed to agree with me!" Hamilton said jokingly, clearly trying to pretend that this was normal.

Shaking his head, Laurens asked, "So what's the latest? Did you get chewed out?"

Taking the chance to ignore Jefferson, Hamilton turned his back on him again. "Nothing major. After some teamwork exercises, I'll be back out in the field before you know it."

Jefferson slipped past them to sit at his desk as Laurens said, "I was down with Angelica just before this, we were all having a good time coming up with things we can make you do." He grinned mischievously. "Things got out of hand when Mulligan suggested finding you both an extra-large shirt that says 'this is our getting along shirt', and making you both wear it like some sort of three legged race. It quickly became a competition to see who could come up with the craziest thing that Washington might actually consider doing."

Hamilton cast a glance at Jefferson, who was still listening, confused. With an eyeroll, Hamilton looked back to his friend. "There's no way he would do the shirt thing. We're adults, not children."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Laurens smirked, crossing his arms. "He did say he would take any suggestions we could come up with."

Hamilton smoothly changed the subject. "Speaking of suggestions, are we still on for drinks tonight?"

Just as Jefferson was tuning them out, Laurens's reply caught his attention again. "Yeah, Madds said he might come if he's feeling up to it. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, I don't see why not. Is Herc still determined to set him up with someone?"

Laurens gave a short laugh. "Of course. Though he should probably first get more successful with his own attempts."

Jefferson couldn't stay silent anymore, spinning his chair around to face them as he asked, "You're trying to hook James up with a girl?"

"Yeah," Laurens said with a smile, and then backtracked a little. "Or should we be trying to get him with a guy?"

Now it was Jefferson's turn to backtrack. "No, he's straight. Just, really? I love the guy, but he's deathly shy around women. There's no way you could set him up. Not with some stranger at a bar."

"Did you try?"

"Yeah, I got pretty close once. There's no way you'd succeed without me there."

Laurens looked to Hamilton. "Did you ask? You didn't ask, did you?"

Hamilton shrugged off his question. "How could I? We were trying to kidnap a guy."

Laurens gave Hamilton's arm a smack for his sass, and turned to Jefferson. "This idiot was supposed to ask if you wanted to come too. We normally go out for drinks if we're all free when he survives a mission."

"When I survive a mission," Hamilton corrected him.

Looking from one to the other, Jefferson shrugged a shoulder. "Why not, I gotta keep you all off James's case."

"Awesome," Laurens said, shifting his weight and tapping the cubicle wall with his toes. "Ham, you should come see what I've been working on."

Hamilton raised his eyebrows and gave Jefferson a quick glance. "Sure, I guess I've got time."

The two disappeared together. When they were out of earshot, Jefferson texted Maddison a warning of what they were planning to do. Maddison simply said he knew.

Luckily for them, they all got away earlier than the last time. Unluckily for Maddison, they wasted no time, and were immediately asking him questions about what he liked in a woman, and if girls they passed were attractive to him. Jefferson found their determination to be amusing. He noticed with a little surprise that Hamilton wasn't with them, but was also watching them fondly, at Jefferson's left elbow.

When Hamilton noticed Jefferson watching him, he said, "Team building exercise."

"Ah," Jefferson responded, and left it at that.

Hamilton spoke again, explaining, "Eliza put me up to it. She said that I should try taking life at your pace."

With a glance down, Jefferson noticed Hamilton walking in step with him. "I don't think this is what she meant," he said, frowning.

"Maybe not," he admitted. "Though, you do walk oddly."

"How so?"

"Well," Hamilton started, clearly about to go off on a speech, "your stride times are different. Most people walk at an even pace with both feet, but your left stride is shorter once your foot has made contact." He waved a hand and continued, "It could be the cane. People who walk with canes do tend to have one step that is shorter than the other." He held up one finger. "But. Those people also have some sort of injury or other reason to be using the cane in the first place." His hand went to his side, and he turned his head towards Jefferson a little to eye him curiously. "You don't have something like that, do you?"

"Of course not," Jefferson scoffed, looking straight ahead. "It just feels natural this way."

Hamilton took a few longer steps to be walking slightly in front of Jefferson, and he held out his hand. When Jefferson gave him a look, he explained, "I've never walked with a cane. I want to see for myself."

"Give me one good reason," Jefferson said scathingly.

Hamilton smirked like he knew he had Jefferson in a corner. "Trust exercise. I won't damage it."

After a few more steps, Jefferson sighed and lifted his cane so it no longer touched the pavement with every step. "Only for a little while." He traded hands with it, and put it in Hamilton's open palm. Hamilton fell back beside him and figured out how to hold it. Jefferson, meanwhile, put conscious effort into ensuring his feet hit the ground at even intervals. Thankfully, his walk without the cane was normal. He then watched Hamilton try to find a natural way to walk with his cane. Because he was shorter than the cane's owner, Hamilton was a bit awkward with it. After passing a few shops, Hamilton had found a way to lean some of his weight on it, and seemed confused. "How long have you had this? And why do you carry it around, if you don't need it?"

"It's a perfectly acceptable fashion accessory, for your information. No different to a tie clip or pocket square," Jefferson said coolly.

Hamilton must have had enough, because he handed the cane back. "The difference is that people actually wear tie clips and pocket squares."

"To each his own," Jefferson said to end the debate. He took the cane back in his right hand and went on walking with it. To his annoyance, Hamilton went back to walking in step with him.

For this reason, sitting down again at the bar was especially welcome. As soon as they all had drinks on the way, Mulligan and Laurens were already looking around, pointing out a few more women to Maddison, who had accepted his fate. Jefferson watched as even Hamilton joined in on giving Maddison tips, and telling him what to say. Jefferson looked over to the girl they had decided on. She was sitting with a few friends, all of whom were curiously eyeing their group. One of them made eye contact with Jefferson and quickly turned to whisper something to her friends, who all giggled. Since none of the guys were going to do anything, and were giving pretty inconsequential advice anyways, Jefferson decided to take things into his own hands. He waited with them as they let Maddison get a little alcohol down, and then, as they were trying to convince him to go talk to them, he drank the last if his own, picked up his cane, and made his way over to their table.

As expected, there were a few more whispers when they saw him approaching. After he had slid past the last table between them, he flashed the girls a smile and leaned down so they could hear him ask, "Mind if I join you?"

From their place at the bar, Laurens was finishing his pep talk when Lafayete nudged him. "Mes amis, Jefferson is already over there!"

Hamilton turned and saw the magenta suit seated in a chair pulled from an empty table. As they watched, Jefferson leaned in with a charming smile and said something which reduced the ladies to fits of giggles. He then looked back, and locked eyes with Hamilton. Something about it stirred something in Hamilton's chest. Jefferson clearly wanted them to know for sure that he was completely capable of entertaining a table of women. Then, he turned back to them, as one stood up. She looked at the boys's group and smiled at the floor as she wove her way through the bar to them. Laurens grinned and pulled Hamilton into a side hug in his excitement. As she closed the last few feet to stand in front of them, they settled down and acted cool.

She reached up and touched the ends of her hair as she glanced at them all, before smiling at Maddison. "Are you James?"

Mulligan elbowed him to encourage him to speak. "Yes…?"

The girl smiled more, eyes dropping to the floor for a moment. "My friends and I were wondering if you'd like to join us?"

"I'd, be honored," he said shyly, and she turned a little, to indicate him to follow.

Hamilton looked back to Jefferson, who was watching the exchange with his arm resting on the back of his chair. As the pair came closer to the table, Jefferson stood up and took his cane in hand once more, offering Maddison his seat. As Maddison sat, Laurens let out a whoop of celebration, snatching his drink and raising it to toast the success. Hamilton clinked glasses with them, though couldn't stop watching Jefferson as he joined them once more.

As soon as he was within reach, Laurens and Mulligan pulled him in to congratulate him and bombard him with questions. Lafayette jokingly asked if he would help Mulligan get a date too. After he had given him an elbow to the ribs, Mulligan asked if he actually might. If bought a drink, Jefferson said he'd consider it. When the drink was in his hand, however, it only took a second of consideration before he said no, and they all shared a laugh. Laurens noticed the competitive gleam in Hamilton's eyes, and grinned, suggesting that Hamilton show his skills next, and go get a girl's phone number.

Hamilton finished the last of his drink and looked around, spying a young lady by herself a ways down the bar. He went over, and the friends watched as he struck up a conversation. When it was clear that they were getting into it, Laurens turned to Jefferson.

"You know," he said, "Alex is bi."

"What?"

"You know, bisexual."

Jefferson didn't look at him. "That's not really my business but ok."

"He doesn't really keep it a secret, but it doesn't come up in conversation," Laurens explained.

Jefferson passed him a confused look. "It's really not my business, why does it matter to me?"

"Well, you're supposed to be a team. You may as well get to know each other better."

Jefferson shrugged, saying, "I suppose, but there's better ways to get to know someone."

Lafayette jumped in, "Did you really check out Alex's butt and call him average?"

Jefferson looked up at the shelves of whiskey behind the bar. "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."

"It's fine to be gay," Laurens quickly assured him. "I am."

Though he lowered his gaze to meet Laurens's, it was accompanied by a deadly seriousness. "Surely you of all people understand that there are some things I prefer to keep on a need to know basis."

Intimidated was not the right way to describe Laurens's reaction. It was more of a sobering understanding. Mulligan and Lafayette looked between the two, getting the impression that they had some secret they weren't telling. There was no time to ask what it was, however, because Hamilton joined them with a gloating smile as she showed them his phone screen.

"Done and done," he said, and ordered another drink. "Oh, and Herc, she said she might have a friend to set you up with, so I gave her your number."

"You're the greatest," Mulligan praised, giving Hamilton a well-deserved fist bump.

Hamilton raised a challenging eyebrow at Jefferson. "Think you can top that?"

Jefferson raised his drink in acknowledgement. "Nah, you win. I've disrupted enough ladies's nights."

Laurens raised his drink as well. "To the victor, the feral tom cat!"

The others joined in, and drank. After a while, Maddison joined them again, embarrassed as he told the prying Laurens and Mulligan that he had gotten a phone number and a promise to meet again sometime. He told them about the girls, and how one of them had tried to get him to share Jefferson's number, since Jefferson had been vague when saying he wouldn't give it to them.

When Hamilton and Laurens left to catch a bus across the city, the others left too. When Lafayette and Mulligan had both split off to go their separate ways, Maddison and Jefferson took the chance to talk more personally. Maddison asked for an account of how the mission went, and wouldn't let Jefferson go until he had promised to take good care of himself that night.

When he had said goodbye to Laurens, Hamilton took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts to find the newest addition. He went to call her, but found his thumb hovering over the screen. He read her name over and over, but couldn't bring himself to call. When he did touch the screen, he touched the 'delete contact' button. He sighed and put his phone back in his pocket, and glanced up at the sky. It was hard to tell, but it seemed like dark clouds were coming in, threatening to give the city streets a wash. Hamilton pushed open the door to his apartment building, resolving not to think about any of this.

The next day, as a sleepless Hamilton approached his desk, he saw Maddison and Jefferson talking in whispers at Jefferson's desk. When he got closer, Maddison took notice, straightened up, and left, greeting him as they passed each other. Hamilton looked back at him for a few steps, and then at Jefferson, who seemed to be waiting for him.

Indeed, when Hamilton came near and took off his coat, Jefferson said, "Washington is waiting for you. Well, I suppose it's me who is waiting. He's starting our little exercises today."

"Great," Hamilton said with a sigh. He tossed his coat on the back of his chair and started his trek. He hadn't even taken a few steps when Jefferson stopped him.

"Hey. You alright? That gal didn't keep you up all night, did she?"

Hamilton walked backwards a few steps with his arms out. "What can I say?" It wasn't his most convincing boast, so he turned back around and checked in. No sooner had he opened the door, Washington grabbed a paper and ushered him right back out and back to their desks.

"This is a list of your day's activities. If things go well, this day could be the last one like this. But only if you take it seriously. I'll be getting reports from everyone about how well you've done, so there's no getting out of it."

"Yessir," Jefferson said with a small salute.

Washington nodded a little at that, but continued on. "First things first, we're reorganizing your space. These cubicle barriers are old, unnecessary, and quite frankly, are a barrier to communication."

Jefferson stood up and took a look at the nearest corner, asking, "How will we be doing that?"

"That is your job to figure out," Washington told them. "If you don't finish it in about two hours, move on and you can finish it before you go home tonight. I leave your schedule with you." He handed the paper to Hamilton, who stared at it. "Remember, if this doesn't work out, one of you will be replaced. There is still time for me to reconsider which of you that will be."

With that, he left. The two agents watched him go, and then Jefferson came to read the paper over Hamilton's shoulder. "…trust falls? … confessions and compliments? …back to back wall sits? He really is treating us like we're children."

"Let's just get this over with," Hamilton said, and set the paper on his desk. He grabbed his chair to roll it away, and Jefferson went to do the same. Next, they worked together to pull the heavy wooden desks out of their small space. Then came the hard part.

With no tools and no way of knowing how they went together, the pair of agents was left to the powers of their eyes, minds, and hands. With some investigation, they were able to find some suspicious looking screws and bolts, but with nothing to take them out with, it was an impasse regardless.

"I'll call Eliza and ask if they have a… a wrench or something," Hamilton said, pausing due to a yawn.

"Are you sure? You look like you need a nap, or at least a triple shot of espresso," Jefferson said, leaning his elbow on the top of the cubicle wall. "Seriously. I don't think I've seen someone look that bad overnight."

"I'm fine," Hamilton said, waving his hand dismissively.

Jefferson raised his eyebrows, not buying it. "No one says 'I'm fine' when they're actually fine. Take a seat in this empty cavity, and I'll go find us some tools. I'll wake you up when I get back."

Hamilton nodded and looked to the floor as he passed Jefferson, but then stopped and looked up at him. "Are you, talking like you're from the south?"

In response, he got a blank look, accompanied by, "Uh, what?"

"Just then. You sounded like you were…." Hamilton shook his head. "Nevermind."

Jefferson gave him his look for another moment. "Yeah, I'll just go find those tools." Without waiting, he left.

Hamilton watched him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what his mind was trying to do, before giving up and sitting down against the cubicle wall. As soon as he closed his eyes, he could feel his mind both longing for sleep, and yet not knowing how. After what felt like forever, he could feel that he was drifting off at last, but the rushing air of the ventilation system became deafening, and Hamilton jerked awake. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. In the next few moments, his eyes landed on the ceiling vents, the cubicle wall across from him, and then the magenta pants of Jefferson, who was sitting on the floor, doing something to the bottom of the cubicle wall. As he saw each of these things, Hamilton calmed down, and wondered how long Jefferson had been back. After a few deep breaths to slow his racing heart, he checked his wristwatch. An hour had passed. Though it hadn't been much, some part of Hamilton did feel a little bit better.

"How long were you going to let me sleep?" he asked, his voice cracking a little.

Jefferson looked back over his shoulder, and then turned back to what he was doing, as he said, "However long. You still look like death."

Hamilton exhaled a small laugh. "Death only wishes it could look this good."

"Whatever makes you feel better," Jefferson said with a smile in his voice.

In the silence that followed, Hamilton stretched, got up, and stretched some more. As he reached towards the ceiling, the cubicle wall suddenly tipped towards Jefferson. On instinct, Hamilton lunged for it, but it stopped before he got the chance to touch it. Jefferson had caught it with one hand, and he leaned it back upright as he stood. Hamilton dropped his arms and took a step back, and Jefferson changed his grip, lifted the section of wall, and carried it to where two other sections were laying on their side a few feet away. As he went, Hamilton noticed the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up, showing rather strong forearms. Of course they were strong, Hamilton thought to himself. Anyone in their line of work would need to be in great physical condition, or they would run the risk at not being strong or fast enough to get into and out of fistfights.

When the newest addition had settled down on the pile, Jefferson turned back around, and rolled his shoulder a little, considering Hamilton. "Some storm last night, huh?"

Hamilton blinked and straightened up more, asking, "Why do you say that?"

"Well, it would be hard not to notice. If I had to say, I would think it got close to a small hurricane."

Hamilton held Jefferson's eyes steadily as he said, "Then yes, it sounds like it was quite the storm. You just answered your own question."

"Relax," Jefferson said as he came back into their office space. "It isn't a big deal." He gestured towards the floor. "Why don't you sit back down, I've got a little story time for you."

"I'm not a child," Hamilton said coldly.

Jefferson grinned. "There's that Hamil-sass." He sat down against the cubicle himself, and patted the floor next to him. "I could use a little break anyway, don't be shy." When Hamilton stubbornly remained standing, Jefferson gave up waiting for him and started talking.

"I was born and raised in Virginia. Mama came from one of those smaller towns where more people speak in a southern accent." Since this seemed like it could be a very long story, Hamilton lowered himself back to the floor. "She didn't want to stay there forever, so she moved to the city. Worked as a temp for a while, and met my dad. She always said she was glad to get out of there, but she did her darndest to make sure I learned some of her small town values. Of course, only a couple of them actually stuck." He smiled a little more at the floor. "I guess I do talk a bit more like her sometimes. I was thinking about it while you were asleep. I guess it's sort of my way of staying connected to her lessons, when I'm trying to be more patient than I am."

Silence passed over them again. Hamilton watched Jefferson as he lived in the fond memories of his family. Then, Jefferson looked up suddenly and met his eyes. "That's enough about me, how about you?"

"I'm an orphan," Hamilton said shortly.

Jefferson gave him the same awkward smile he usually got. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I'm used to it."

Silence came again, though more awkward than before. Hamilton checked his watch.

"Well, we've got a little more time until our next activity," he said.

Jefferson sighed. "You know what I think?" He heaved himself standing again, and held out a hand to Hamilton. As he took the hand and stood, Jefferson said, "I think we ought to abandon the plan."

"Who are you and what have you done with Thomas Jefferson?" Hamilton asked, only half joking.

"Come on," he reasoned. "The point of this list is to build teamwork, right? Well I can think of a dozen better ways than these gimmicks."

Hamilton shook his head, a grin finding its way onto his face. "You realize our jobs are on the line?"

Jefferson started rolling down his sleeves, saying, "The world really has turned upside down. You're really arguing to keep the tedious boring way of accomplishing our goal?"

Hamilton looked around. When he spotted Jefferson's cane, he retrieved it as Jefferson buttoned his sleeves. Jefferson held out his hand, but Hamilton first twirled the cane in his hand a little, before tossing it to him. Jefferson caught it, and the two shared a grin. They looked back in the direction of Washington's office, but there was no sign of anything to stop them. Since he was nearby, Hamilton grabbed their coats, and the two walked briskly to the elevator. They said nothing, and when they reached the ground floor, they peered around before making a dash for the door. On the street, they kept a lively pace, glancing back occasionally. A block away, they rounded a corner and slowed to a relaxed pace, Jefferson snickering a little.

"Where to first?" he asked, looking down at his partner.

"I think that triple shot of espresso sounds pretty nice," Hamilton replied with an equal smile.

The two wandered around until they found a small coffee shop with free wifi, and Jefferson sat at a table for two as Hamilton got himself some much-needed caffeine. After a few internet searches on his phone, Jefferson had a good idea of what he wanted to do while they could. As Hamilton rejoined him and sat down with his coffee, Jefferson said, "Here's what I was thinking. There's a pretty good chance that they try to call us when they realize we're gone. We've gotta make pretty good use of our time. I've got a few ideas of where we can go." Hamilton nodded to show he was listening. "The farther away we are, the longer we can stay away, but the less time we'll get to do something. So I found a place with a couple of things in the area, so we can spend less time traveling." Hamilton nodded again. "It seems like a pretty cool place, and it's a weekday, so it shouldn't be that busy."

"So what is it?"

Jefferson hesitated a little. "Laser tag."

"Laser tag?"

"Laser tag."

"That sounds more stupid than the things we're trying to escape," Hamilton said, and took a drink of his coffee.

"Well then your trust exercise is to trust me on this. Laser tag is how I first got into guns, and the fact that I'm here shows where that got me." He stood up, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Bring that with, I'll call us a cab.

One coffee and one taxi ride through the city later, Jefferson and Hamilton were putting on the black vests of the laser tag arena. There were some other people there, a group of college students who were trying to split themselves into two teams, and were arguing about which of the adults would be on which team. Once his vest was on, Jefferson called across the room to them, telling the five that he and Hamilton could take them all down. The students laughed, and Hamilton pulled up his shirt to show them the hilt of his concealed gun. Though it had been intended as intimidation, it drew them in, and they agreed to the disproportionate teams.

The arena itself took up most of the building's space. Each team was handed their laser guns, and was sent to their home base. In the black light, it was clear that the pair had another huge disadvantage. Their shirts glowed brightly, and the students on the other team had all come prepared in all black. Nonetheless, Jefferson was grinning. The first round, he and Hamilton didn't stray far from the base, repelling the attacks of their enemies fairly easily. They were able to push them back, but never made it to the base. As such, the time ran out and points were tallied based on shooting alone. The second round, the students were already getting crafty. They had split up again, but sent four after Hamilton, leaving their best individual to hold off Jefferson. As such, they were able to break past Hamilton and destroy the base. In what little time they had before the next round, Hamilton and Jefferson planned their approach. As soon as the round started, they took off at a run, staying together. Hamilton, slightly faster, wove between obstacles while Jefferson covered him from behind. As they hoped would happen, Jefferson was shot out, while Hamilton made it to the base and destroyed it. With only one kill in that game, the students' score was incredibly small in comparison.

They stayed for a few more rounds, and then the students had to be on their way. The agents played one more round of one on one, before calling it good. They stopped next door for lunch, by Jefferson's request, before hitting the streets yet again. Jefferson tucked his hands in his pockets as they walked, and they listened to the sounds of the city. A block away, Hamilton glanced down to walk in step with his partner again, and frowned, noticing something was odd.

"Jefferson, where's your cane?"

"Well, it's-" Jefferson stopped dead, nearly getting run into by the people behind them. The look on his face said it all. Horror. He turned sharply to stare behind them, visibly trying to figure out if he had left it behind.

"There's still time to go back," Hamilton said, and took off at a run, weaving through the pedestrians. Jefferson wasn't far behind him, though he couldn't weave through people as effectively. Hamilton took a moment to breathe before entering the restaurant, and a simple question to their server told him that the cane had not made it there.

Outside, Jefferson caught up, and looked distressed. "It's not here," he said between gasps for air.

"I know, I just asked them. No one saw it." He moved to go next door to the laser tag arena, but Jefferson grabbed his arm.

"It's not there either."

"…what?"

Jefferson looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment, pleading. The next moment, he had looked towards the street. "Do you remember the name of that coffee shop?"

Hamilton shook his head. "No."

With a sigh, Jefferson let go of him. "That's what I thought… Neither do I."

"We can retrace our steps, if we start back at the agency-"

"It's hopeless. The whole point was to go somewhere we wouldn't have thought to go before."

Hamilton examined his partner's face. Jefferson turned away and went to the curb to hail a cab. Since it didn't seem like there was much he could do about it, Hamilton followed him. Jefferson gave the driver an address a block away from the agency and stayed silent, staring out the window and gripping his right knee. It was unsettling to say the least, to see Jefferson so upset. He had seen this face before, of course, but this time was different. It was avoidable. And, far more personal. While trying to remember if Jefferson had his name engraved on it somewhere, he remembered a detail from what seemed like a long time ago.

"Did you say it belonged to a relative?"

It took a second for Jefferson to respond. "I suppose I did."

"Are you sure you don't want to try finding it?"

"It's gone, face it. There's half a million coffee shops in this city. It would take forever to find the right one, and I doubt it'd still be there."

Hamilton didn't press the issue further, and let the ride finish in near silence. He wasn't sure what could even be said. He suspected, though, that it wasn't hopeless. Perhaps a laptop or a cellphone might get stolen, but something as conspicuous as a cane hardly had the resale value that electronics had. When they reached their stop, Hamilton was quick to stop Jefferson from pulling out his wallet.

"You go on ahead, I'll be right after you," Hamilton said, paying the driver.

Jefferson didn't question him. When Hamilton got out, however, he took off, jogging in the opposite direction. Jefferson watched him go, sighed, and returned to the agency by himself. He held his head up high as he went in, and punched the elevator button. When it stopped on his floor, the doors opened to reveal Washington waiting for him, arms crossed, displeased.

Washington sat Jefferson down in his office, and Jefferson listened to his lecture. "Not only have you both skipped all of your mandatory team building exercises, you come back without your partner? Do you have any idea how disappointed I am with your behavior?"

"We left to make our own team building day. With all due respect-"

"That's enough. How am I to know that you didn't just agree to skip work? You haven't even returned together. I hope I won't have to be writing a missing persons report."

"I hope you won't either."

Washington sighed, and waved a hand. "Go work on your cubicles. Clearly I have to rethink your position on this team."

Jefferson stood and excused himself. He did as he was told, hanging his coat on the back of his chair, and rolled up his sleeves to set to the task he had started that morning. It was considerably different than it had been before. Jefferson wasn't aware of how much time had passed, but two cubicle walls later, he heard running footsteps approaching. He glanced up, and did a double take. Hamilton had returned, with a proud grin on his face. He stopped beside the section of wall Jefferson was working on, and held out his hand. In it was the very cane he had lost. In growing amazement, Jefferson reached up and took it, examining it for scratches.

In between his deep breaths, Hamilton pointed finger guns at Jefferson, and said, "You're welcome."

Jefferson exhaled a laugh and looked up at him. "You crazy son of a bitch, you actually went and found it!"

"Of course," he said, and leaned both elbows on the cubicle. "I also got my running in for the day."

Jefferson held the handle of his cane and jabbed Hamilton's forearm with its heel. "Don't lean there, I'm trying to work here."

Hamilton smirked as he stood upright. "Great, I've given you your poking stick back. Maybe I should have left it there."

Jefferson was about to return his sass, when Washington called, "Hamilton!"

"Daddy's calling," Jefferson muttered.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Hamilton asked good-naturedly. "I'll be back before you know it."

Contrary to what Hamilton had said, it took nearly half an hour to return. When he did, it was with good news. Washington had decided to forgive them, and would allow them to leave once their workstations were back in order.

"I may have given him a speech about today," Hamilton said. "And before you ask, I got five shots of espresso while I was at that shop. No, I am not having a heart attack, yes I am sure." With that, he plopped himself on the ground next to Jefferson to see what he was doing. With his help, the disassembly did go more quickly than before. When the area was cleared, they had a very lengthly debate about how they should put their desks, front to front or side to side. Laurens came to visit and watched their debate for a while, before cutting in and suggesting back to back, so that they could kick away from their desk and be beside the other at a moment's notice. It took a minute to figure how that would work, but once Hamilton and Jefferson sat down, something about it seemed just right. Hamilton rolled backwards and the back of his chair hit the desk beside Jefferson, and Hamilton smirked and raised his eyebrows suggestively. Jefferson rolled his eyes and pushed Hamilton back to his desk, smiling. They ran their computer wires through the new setup, and checked the clock. To their surprise, the time was approaching 5. They lingered around a little longer, telling those who were still around how they had spent their day. Hamilton left with Laurens again, wishing everyone a good night.

As soon as he got home, Hamilton made a beeline for his writing desk, and unlocked the bottom drawer to retrieve a spiral notebook. He had to move several others to get the one he wanted. He impatiently flipped past an abundance of words to a blank page as he groped around for something to write with. As soon as he had both in front of him, the pen met the page, unleashing a fury of scribbles. He wrote about that day, how Jefferson seemed to be onto him. He wrote about their escape and how they had enjoyed themselves at laser tag. He wrote about how Jefferson had somehow forgotten his cane. Then, he stopped. He wrote about how he had retrieved the cane, and stopped again. He stared at the page, hand itching to keep going, though not knowing how to continue. Slowly, he wrote about Jefferson talking about his mother and father. He wrote about how he was now certain that he had come from a wealthy family, to boot. He wrote the jealousy, the frustration, the longing. Then, stopped again. What word had he just used? Longing? Hamilton stared at that word, willing it to explain its presence. Longing for what? It appeared not as part of a sentence. It stood on its own, followed by a period. No subject, no object. Hamilton shook his head a little and crossed it out. It had no place, no meaning. He put it out of his mind, and wrote theories about what kind of relative may have owned the cane previously. He then found that he had circled back to the subject of family, and mused for a while more about Jefferson's family. Eventually, after four pages had passed, he set down his pen and massaged his hand as he flopped down on his bed to welcome a long awaited sleep.