Chapter Text
The first thing Alexander Hamilton noticed when he regained consciousness was the plush seat he was sitting in. It almost felt like it was swallowing him. It was so soft, unlike anything he had ever felt before.
The next thing was the quiet, constant hum echoing all around. His eyebrows scrunched up as the last thing he remembered made its way to the front of his brain. He was in New York, in the middle of a cabinet meeting, getting ready to insult Jefferson and his idiotic opinions. Then everything went black, and he woke up here. But where was 'here'?
His eyes flew open. Confused, he looked around the room he woke up in. It was spacious and filled to the brim with rows of chairs similar to his. The walls were lined with deep red fabric and even though the lights were dimmed, they still lit up the room. But what caught his eye was the large black rectangle that took up the entirety of one wall. It seemed like it was the source of the low hum.
Before he could dwell on his surroundings for longer and get up from his chair to explore the room further, a slight movement in the seat next to him caught his eye. In the chair that was empty not even a minute ago sat his dear wife, Eliza Schuyler Hamilton, her eyes fluttering open. She scanned the room with visible fear on her face until her eyes fell on Alexander. She gasped out a weak: ‘‘Alex? Where are we?” Hamilton stood up and offered his hand to Eliza, helping her up and pulling her into an embrace. "I don't know, Eliza. I don't know." he softly whispered into her hair.
As he rubbed his hands on Eliza’s back, he started hearing shuffling and soft talking all around him. He looked up and froze in place, seeing a now full room filled to the brim with people he knew. In the corner furthest away from him stood the last two people he wanted to see right now: Thomas Jefferson, who was now shooting daggers at him with his eyes, and James Madison, who was trying unsuccessfully to calm Jefferson down. A few steps from Alexander and Eliza stood the other two Schuyler sisters, Angelica protectively clutching her younger sister Margarita ‘Peggy’ Schuyler to her chest. Right next to the big rectangle stood Hercules Mulligan with Marquis de Lafayette, both happily looking at Hamilton. And in the middle of all this commotion stood the general himself, George Washington, and an uncomfortable-looking Aaron Burr by his side.
"Hamilton, what did you do?" Jefferson's voice rang above everything else as he made his way over to Hamilton, James Madison trailing behind him, hoping to stop Jefferson from doing anything stupid.
"I didn't do anything!" Alexander defended himself, glaring at Jefferson, who was now standing mere inches from him. "Maybe you should try to understand the situations at hand before blaming somebody. Or maybe you should get your head out of your a-"
"Hamilton! Jefferson! Both of you, take a walk!" came the commandeering voice of George Washington, his hard stare shutting up both men, though they still glared at each other with pure disgust. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room, everyone looking at the two men with concern.
“Well, this is awkward.” a voice coming from the third row broke the silence, somehow managing to sound half bored, half entertained. Everyone’s gaze moved to the source of the voice, and all hell broke loose after that. The voice belonged to none other than the king of Britain, King George III himself.
Everyone started shouting insults and profanities at the king, making him speechless. The Schuyler sisters had to hold Alexander back from jumping on the king and beating the living hell out of him, the same thing happening with Washington and the Hamilsquad. Madison was once again calming Jefferson down. Aaron Burr stood forgotten, far away from the commotion.
“You stuck-up British pompous prick! Angelica, let me go. I want to teach this douche a lesson. Just you wait, when I’m gonna get my hands on you, I will-”
“Enough.” A strong feminine voice echoed around the room, silencing everyone with its sharpness. Everyone turned around to look at the owner of the voice, halting their movements when they saw the girl standing in front of them. Her dark skin glowed under the lights, her face decorated with freckles and her eyes lined with eyeshadow and eyeliner. Her puffy brown hair was cut just above her shoulders. But what shocked the historical figures the most was her garments. A yellow tube top that was showing her shoulders and stomach, and ripped denim shorts. She stood tall and confident, meeting all of their stares, hands folded behind her back. A silence settled over all of them once again, everyone staring with open mouths at the audacity of the girl in front of them. Then Thomas Jefferson opened his mouth.
“Girl, I command you to tell us where we are. Then, you are to go fetch your master immediately!” Jefferson barked and sized her up, then added: “And change to garments more appropriate for a person of your gender and status.” When the girl made no move to do as he told her, only eyed him up and down and then paid him no more attention, he only grew more agitated. “Did you not hear me? I demand you go retrieve your master! Do as I tell you or there will be consequences!” Jefferson was fuming by the end of his rant.
“Are you done yet?” the girl asks, annoyance clear as day in her voice, fixing him with a sharp glare. Jefferson sputtered, offended, and got ready to scream again, but before he had the chance to do so, the girl started talking again.
“Good. Let’s get some things straight. First, my name is not Girl, it’s Latisha. Second, I don’t have a master. I never had one and I sure as hell never will.” The historical figures gasped at her language. It was not proper for a female to curse. But she paid them no mind. “And third, these clothes are mine and there’s nothing wrong with me wearing them. That’s why they are tailored to fit me. As for the threat,” Latisha went back to glaring at Jefferson, “you have no power here. No stick, no guns. You can’t do anything to me. You try something and I won’t hesitate to knock you to the ground faster than you can say Monticello.”
“Well,” Latisha said, adverting her eyes from an outraged Jefferson, “since we have that sorted, let me try this whole introduction thing again. Like I said just a few moments ago, my name is Latisha, but, please, call me Tish.” She warmly smiled at all the people in the room except for Jefferson. She was still rightfully pissed at him. “What I’m going to say now may sound far-fetched, but bear with me. Before you appeared here, it was the year 1791. Right now, you are in the United States of America. The year is 2023. You travelled 232 years into the future to watch a musical about one of you.”
Everyone started murmuring about the fact that they were over 200 years in the future, but what captured their attention was the mention of a musical. Musical, which was supposedly about one of them. Most of the people looked at George Washington, Aaron Burr even shaking his hand and congratulating him, believing that the musical was about the general. Who else would deserve a musical more than the first President of the United States? But Tish just shook her head with an amused smile playing on her lips and nodded in another direction. Everyone turned to look at who she meant, and their gaze settled on the Secretary of State, who was now staring at Tish with wide eyes. He couldn't believe it. There is a musical about him?
“There is a musical about me?” he gasped at the same time as Jefferson, astonished. On the other hand, Jefferson sounded a lot more outraged. And insulted. The very thought of Hamilton getting a musical was making him sick to the stomach.
“Yes, Secretary Hamilton. There is truly a musical about you. A very famous one may I add.” Tish assured Alexander with a smile. “This musical covers a big part of Secretary Hamilton’s life, including the lives of everyone else present. You have been brought here to see your past and future. The past is in the past, and you cannot change it. But you can change the future. You have been given a chance to change what is going to happen, to make things better not only for yourself but for the future civilization, too.” Tish looked each one of the historical figures in the eye, making sure her message was clear. “I am here to answer your questions to the best of my ability and to provide you with necessaries, such as food or drinks. I recommend taking a bowl of popcorn. It’s grains of maize or corn that have been heated, buttered and salted. It’s delicious.” Tish pointed to a table with a bunch of bowls filled with popcorn.
Everyone slowly made their way to the table and curiously looked at the popped corn. When no one made a move to try the snack, everyone a bit apprehensive at the prospect of trying the new food, Hercules Mulligan stepped forward, picked up one piece of popcorn and popped it into his mouth. He immediately hummed in delight and reached for a handful of the delicious treat, others following suit. In the end, everyone was holding their own bowl as they made their way back to Tish.
George Washington stepped forward, carrying two bowls, and gave one to Tish with a warm smile. “I thought you would like a bowl too, so I brought you one.” Tish returned the smile and took the bowl from his hands. “Thank you, General Washington.” “You are welcome, miss Tish.” “Please,” Tish chuckled, “drop the ‘miss’. Just Tish is fine.” “Well, then I insist you call me George.” Washington smiled cheekily at her and she laughed. “Very well, George.”
“Can I have your attention for one more moment, please?” Tish called out to the room, and everyone stopped talking. “I know that there are other people you'd certainly like to be here, but I think there is one person who deserves to be here the most. Everyone, please welcome,” a white light spread from next to Tish, blinding everyone for a second. When it disappeared, in its place stood: “John Laurens.”
John looked around the unfamiliar room, taking in the red walls and the rows of chairs. The last thing he remembered was feeling cold, his blood trickling out of his mouth. He died. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Then his eyes fell on the people in front of him, and he smiled at his group of friends, who looked like they were in shock.
The first one to break from the trance was Lafayette as he came rushing at his long-lost friend, enveloping him in a hug and quietly sobbing into his shoulder, Hercules following soon after. John looked up, only to see his best friend Alex still standing in the same place, tears falling from his eyes. “John?” gasped Alexander and then fell to his knees, eyes never leaving Laurens. John broke the hug and rushed to Hamilton, gathering him in his arms, whispering sweet assurances in his ear as Alexander cried and clawed at his shirt.
“John, oh my god, John, I thought you were dead. Don’t leave me again. Please,” Alexander sobbed into John’s shirt. “Hey, I’m here Alex. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” John said.
When Hamilton finally calmed down enough to stand up, Laurens was greeted by Washington. Then Tish explained the situation to him. He was sceptical at first, but then he looked at his friends and decided to trust her. His friends led him to the table with popcorn and made him try it. John quickly took a liking to the snack and in no time he was marching back to the others with his own bowl in hand.
“Now that everyone has snacks, please take a seat. The musical will start afterwards. The musical is not live. We can stop it at any moment, so you can express your thoughts freely, without missing something.”
Lafayette took a seat in the first row, Hercules sitting to his right and Laurens to his left. On John’s other side sat Hamilton with Eliza by his side. The other two Schuyler sisters took a seat behind them in the second row, Peggy behind Eliza, Angelica behind Alexander. Washington took a seat behind Lafayette, and Burr decided to sit next to him behind Hercules, leaving space between Washington and Angelica. Jefferson and Madison sat next to each other in the third row.
Tish waited until they all sat down and then joined Jefferson and Madison in the third row. Jefferson shot her an apprehensive look, but for once in his life decided not to comment on something and just turned to look at the screen. Then Tish started the musical.