Alexander enjoys his time on the other side very much. It suits him; rather than writing, he engages in passionate, intellectual discussions with nearly everyone he can, from every era before him.
He sees old friends, and apologizes for mistakes. He sees old enemies, and accepts others' apologies.
And often, he watches the world. He and John Laurens pay particularly close attention to a new political figure when he comes around, a man by the name of Abraham Lincoln. He and Eliza watch their grandchildren, then their great-grandchildren, carry on their lineage. He watches closely beside his old friend Marquis de Lafayette when a battalion of German soldiers enter France, using weapons they would never even have dreamed of when they were at war.
And Alexander finds himself spending more time beside Thomas Jefferson. Thomas has acknowledged the brilliance of Alexander's financial system, and Alexander has acknowledged Thomas's presidential successes, and thus a peace has been created between them. They spend most of their time together observing American politics and debating, as they used to in George Washington's cabinet meetings.
"You know I'm far more popular than you are," Thomas says one day.
"Yes, that much is obvious. If only they would teach the correct account of history in schools these days."
Thomas laughs, and Alexander joins in. It is an ongoing argument between the two: who is more well known among the living at the time. It joins the arguments they have over legislation and supreme court cases, but it is the only argument that Alexander consistently loses.
"But you owned slaves!" Alexander argues. "I don't understand how in today's age, when slavery has long since been abolished, people continue to say your name before mine even gets thought of when the 'Founding Fathers' is brought up."
"I was more glorious," Thomas says.
"That you were," Alexander concedes. "Glorious in all your elitist opinions, your wardrobe choices, your servants feeding you at Monticello." He says 'Monticello' exactly as he used to, with sarcasm in his voice.
"Don't tell me you're jealous."
Alexander laughs. "Something will give, and I'll be far more famous than you. Just you wait."
It's years later in living time, and Alexander is spending time with John, when he feels something. A small tug, a little hint. He's gotten it before, when a loved one is about to die, but this one feels different. There is some power on the other side that alerts you to when something is happening in the living world that you would like to see, but usually the taps and nudges have a name attached.
Nevertheless, Alexander knows he can't ignore it. He makes his way over to the glass, and feels himself directed to look at a young man. He is sitting in front of what Alexander has learned is a computer, with rather large headphones over his ears. There doesn't seem to be anything particularly special about him.
But Alexander watches. For days, then weeks. He starts to get an idea of why this man is important to him, and with that comes excitement. He starts to feel like he knows this man. They're not that different, really.
Alexander sees him get an invitation from the White House. He knows what the young man is about to do.
He calls to Thomas, who comes over quickly. Thomas thinks it's another major policy shift that they're going to argue, and is surprised to find he's been called over about a man with a theater degree. At the last minute, Alexander calls Aaron Burr over as well.
"What's this about?" Aaron asks.
"Just watch."
The three watch as the man steps up and grabs the microphone.
"I'm thrilled the White House called me tonight because I'm actually working on a hip-hop album. It's a concept album about the life of someone I think embodies hip-hop: Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton."
Thomas turns to face Alexander, his eyebrows raised.
"I think my legacy is about to get a boost," Alexander says, smiling.
They turn back to the man, who is still speaking. "...became Treasury Secretary, caught beef with every other founding father…"
Aaron laughs. "That's certainly accurate. Did you call me over here just to witness your newfound popularity?"
The man continues: "Anything you need to know? I'll be playing Vice President Aaron Burr."
Aaron: "Oh, great."
The three men watch, Alexander with a proud grin on his face and Thomas with a small smile. Aaron, on the other hand, looks like he just swallowed something bitter.
And so it begins: Alexander watches this man, Lin-Manuel Miranda, on his journey to writing what Alexander can only hope will become a popular musical. Hip-hop was something he wasn't totally versed in, but he feels that the musical is on its way to portraying him and his spirit very well.
On the night that the play opens, he decides to descend down among the living to watch. He is unable to convince anyone to join him, as it is rather uncomfortable for them to spend prolonged amounts of time beside the living, but he knows that Thomas and Eliza at the very least will be watching from above. He watches his life story told by someone else, and he can't stop smiling through the whole thing. Somehow, this crazy son of Puerto Rican immigrants captures his life in song almost perfectly. And what's more, it looks like it is catching on like wildfire.
Suddenly, nearly everyone knows his name. It seems the days that he was only known by social studies teachers and history buffs are long gone; he has become a popular icon. He watches as the treasury department decides not to take his face off of the ten dollar bill, laughing with Philip about the poems that he wrote as a nine-year-old. For a while he steadily avoids Aaron, only initiating a conversation when Aaron's character, not Alexander's, wins the Tony award.
And when people keep dying, they start to want to talk to him, some even more than George. It's strange to suddenly become famous for things he did way back when he was living, but he enjoys it all the same.
And then one day, he feels it happening. He waits, gives the man time, but finds him a few days after the arrives.
"Lin," he calls, seeing his retreating figure.
The man turns around, and his eyes widen. "Mr. Hamilton." There's awe in his voice, and Alexander knows it's a side-effect of just having died.
"Alexander, please," he says. "I want to thank you." He reaches out his hand, and gives him a strong handshake.
"I think I should be thanking you."
"Why don't we walk?"
Alexander and Lin set off, in step with each other.
Lin turns to Alexander, "I have some questions."
The end.