Chapter 1: In Which There is a Meeting
Starting work is hard enough when you aren't haunted by nightmares.
Especially when you meet someone from your dreams.
BOOM! I hear the gun in the hand of the man in front of me go off, the bullet speeding towards me. Time seems to slow down, yet there is still ringing in my ears from the shot. I of seeing this before, feeling this terror in a previous time. The confusion, too, is familiar to me. I have felt it before, that is for sure. But when, where, and why?
I am brought back to the man standing there, gun in his hand, pointing right at me. It all comes down to this. In my terror and shock, I must make sure that everyone knows I would never kill someone, even if I had no idea what I had done or what they had done to me. Steadily, I raise my own gun up, the gun that feels so familiar in my hand, despite there being no memories to explain why. I mimic what seemed right, what seems familiar: aiming at the sky, I shoot my bullet. I throw away my shot like I have always done. I hear him call out to me. I hear his sadness and confusion. Before I black out, my last thoughts are of fear but not anger. Instead, I inexplicably feel strong remorse and pity.
I sit up straight in my bed, drenched in sweat. That dream again? Lately, it has come more often, but I never knew why. It has to have some meaning, some reason for popping up in my head. The question is, what is that explanation? What is drawing nearer to make the dream come up more often? That young man in the dream, who is he? And more importantly, why is he a part of my dreams so often? I may never know, yet I hope that soon I will.
It is getting harder for me to get enough sleep with all the work I have to complete and this is waking me up in the middle of the night, which is not helpful for my tiredness in the morning. I need to be rested enough to perform well in my job and this dream is directly interfering with that goal.
Ah, yes. My job. I should probably try to get more sleep now that I have calmed down from that vivid nightmare. Lying back down, I rest my head against my pillow, focusing on my steady breathing to ease myself back into sleep. Slowly, I drift off to sleep.
I sit up, awake. Once again, I had that dueling dream. Once again, I watched myself fear the man in front of me, fear him and his gun. I watched myself take my gun and shoot him. I watched him pity me and give up his shot. I watched powerlessly as he fell, having forgiven me already for taking his life. This dream scares me. I fear what I could do, what I might do, what I will do. Is this showing me what will happen, or only what may?
Well, there is no time for those thoughts. I just got a new job, and I can’t risk being late on my first day. What will they think of me then? I can ponder that later, but now I must focus on getting to work on time. I get dressed, eat breakfast, and then get in my new purple Honda Fit. On my way, I can’t help wonder, who was that man in my dream? What did he signify? Will I ever meet someone like him in real life, and most importantly, what will I do to him?
Finally, I arrive at work. It is a small establishment, yet it is one of the best places around, because of yours truly. I drive around the parking lot until I find an empty spot, my empty spot. I always park there, and being the best, most awe-inspiring lawyer that works at the law firm, so I have priority here. Either that or the fact that I am the only lawyer here. That might have some role in it. Despite my lack of someone to work with, I seem to do just fine, probably because of my sheer talent. Okay, sorry.
Anyway, I pull into my spot and turn of the ignition. Opening the door to get out, I notice a new car that I’ve never seen before, a Honda Fit in a shade of purple. Weird. Anyway, I pay it no attention and get out of my car. After slamming the door shut, I stroll over to the law firm’s door. In my peripheral vision, I see a man walking toward the door as well, and I hold the door open for him. Strangely, I notice something familiar about him as he gets closer.
The man holding the door, he seems… familiar. Like I’ve seen him before, like I’ve had a strong emotional connection to him before. What can it mean? So many things are happening today, I don’t even know where to start. I suppose I should move on from that and start working, so here goes.
I walk toward the main desk, eager to start working and helping those who need it. From what I know, there is only one other lawyer here and we will work together. I wonder briefly if it was that man who held the door for me earlier.
I see the who I held the door for at the desk. Maybe he’s new here? Still, I can’t shake the feeling that there is something that isn’t right about him. The familiarity is almost like I’ve seen him in a past life, but that wouldn’t make any sense. I feel pity for him like I felt for the man in my dream. Now that I think about it, he appears in many ways like the man in my dream. His stature and absence of hair are similar… Could it be?
No, of course not. That wouldn’t make any sense. It was a dream, that’s all. Just a dream. A simple, normal dream that just so happens to feature a man that I’ve never met before, a man standing in front of me today…
That doesn’t make sense either. God, will any of this ever make sense? I keep having the same mysterious dream over and over again and I am getting less and less sleep. It’s getting old, to be honest, and I wonder if my life will ever go back to normal. Well, as normal as it once was, before I got haunted by my nightmares.
I look up just as the man turns around to look at me. We both gasp at the same time in recognition. Is he… the man from my dreams? No… it can’t be, can it?
No. This is illogical, and I know it. A man from real life that I didn’t know existed, in my dream. I’m being stupid. This is fucking stupid. How could I think something that was clearly bullshit take over my emotions like that? But, still…
No, nope, no, stop it. You’re being stupid, I tell myself. You’re being so fucking stupid right now and you know it. This is all bullshit. Completely and totally bullshit. Not based in reality. How could it be? Nothing like this could happen.
Yet, there is still a flicker of doubt in my mind. I try my best to suppress it, knowing that it is wrong, but… it is also right, and I know that, too. I feel it in my soul. I can deny it however many times I want to, but it will still be there. I can’t douse that flame, no matter how hard I try. No matter how much I know that it is irrational, stupid, absurd. I am also sure that there is something there, something that I can’t stop, something that I can’t deny. Something stronger than my intellect, if that could be.
Chapter 2: In Which Hamilton Annoys Burr With Immaturity
When you are Aaron Burr, working with Hamilton is hard.
Especially when Hamilton can't stop making dirty jokes.
I look up, seeing a man before who I both recognize and have never seen before, excluding our encounter at the door. He seems to flinch in a similar way to my own, avoiding my eyes and glancing down, both startled and confused. I see recognition in his eyes, but it must be a trick of the light. How could he have the same feeling as me, when I can’t even explain my own emotion. Of course, I decide, he must just look similar, or maybe I saw something about him on the website when I applied, or when I came in for my interview. That would explain it perfectly.
I continue to watch him as he recovers from the shock and reverts his composure. He doesn’t seem to want to display his confusion to the rest of the world, as if they would take it and turn it against him in some way. I can relate to that, in some way, not wanting others to see my weakness. My strategy, however, is to simply not do anything that others could notice and remark upon.
Finally, he meets my eyes. I feel even more like I’ve seen him before, but do not react on that feeling. He opens his mouth slowly to speak, and he eventually starts talking.
“So, are you the new guy here?” he asks me.
“Yes, I am,” I respond. “And I believe that you are the other lawyer who works here?”
“That would be me. Alexander Hamilton, pleased to make your acquaintance.”
I hold out my hand to shake his, but he looks at me a little strangely. I see a little amusement in his eyes before he sticks out his own hand to shake mine. Hmph, apparently doesn’t appreciate too many formalities.
He wanted to shake my hand. Not especially the way I’d greet a new friend. Okay, okay, he’s my coworker, but still. Can’t we, like, I don’t know, just say hi and be done with it? Why do we need to pretend like we are in such a serious new situation? I don’t want people to think that I am too boring, but I don’t think that I could be more boring than this guy.
My thoughts shift back to the dream. He didn’t seem to react to seeing me, or not that much. I did catch hesitation as he looked at me first. Of course, would be expected, this all being in my head and all… right?
Burr looks at me, almost staring, in confusion. His gaze flickers from our hands to my face. Oh. Right. I handshake requires shaking. Oops, it seems I got a little lost my thoughts again. I do this way too much for my own good. I think about my work and writing papers and stuff like that, and then I notice that I am supposed to be engaging in a social conversation with someone else.
Once, I was meeting this woman, Eliza. She seemed nice and all, but a little helpless. She didn’t seem to have very high self-esteem, and if I pointed out a flaw, even just jokingly, she would panic and start apologizing profusely. It didn’t really work out.
Anyway, I was meeting her for dinner. We were in this restaurant and she was telling me about her sister Peggy Schuyler, something about her being underrated and how others should acknowledge her kindness, wit, and dedication to her family. Earlier, I had seen a video online about how in some places, people are allowed to leave pets outside in the cold. I was planning to write a long paper about the injustice and cruelty of it while Eliza was talking, I was totally lost in my thoughts. When she realized I wasn’t paying attention, she got pretty upset. I mean, yeah, I wasn’t listening to her, but still…
Oh, shit. I did it again. My hand is still in Burr’s. I think I have been standing here like this for about a minute ago.
“...Sorry,” I say. “I get kinda lost in thought sometimes.”
That. Was. So. Awkward. He just… stood there, his hand strongly gripping mine, not letting go, while his gaze went distant. He came back to the present, noticing what he’d done, but drifted away once more, leaving me standing there. He smiles sheepishly at me as if to apologize again. Then, his grip finally loosens, and I pull my hand away as fast as I can.
“So… I suppose I should show you around the office,” Hamilton offers, trying to recover from what he’d just done.
“Yes, that seems like something that would help me in the future,” I respond, also ignoring what just happened.
“Okay. So. Here is the front desk, obviously.” He points to the desk and then starts walking toward the back. “This is the room where it happens.” He is gesturing to a room with a closed door.
“Um. The room where what happens, exactly?” I ask, confused and slightly disgusted.
“You know, it’s the room where I do my lawyer-ey stuff,” he explains like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh. Okay.” I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Well, what did you think I meant?”
“I thought it was, well, nevermind. You just seemed like the kind of person to refer to that kind of thing as ‘the room where it happens.’ It was quite vague, as well.”
“Oh. OH. OH. I see. No, that isn’t what I meant. Although maybe it will become the room where it happens,” he jokes, smirking.
“Just get over it already. Come on, continue the tour or whatever you were doing.” I am already over this guy.
“I will gladly cum on. Wink wink.”
Oh. My. God. Will this guy just shut up and move on? How does a man so immature have a job like this? He can’t act like this with his clients, can he? Why is he doing this to me?
This is hilarious. I am sure I will enjoy working with this guy. He hates me already, I can tell. He gets so irritated, I love teasing him. Hopefully, he doesn’t leave before I can do this again.
“Come- I mean, Let’s go, continue the tour,” he corrects, carefully trying to avoid my remarks. No such luck. This is too funny.
“I’m cumming, don’t worry. Are you gonna cum, too?” I love this guy. Not like that of course, but, like, you know.
Burr sighs in disappointment. He probably is wondering what working with me will be like.
How will I make it through a day working with him?