Alexander lay his head back against the hospital bed, aching all over. He felt cuts and bruises in places he didn't realise could hurt so much, and cursed foully to himself.

I gave her my word.

He imagined Angelica sitting at home, by herself - on that same couch he had made out with Eliza on - weeping. Or maybe thrown against her bed, weeping.

Or sitting in a corner of the school by herself, weeping.

Wherever she was, Alexander prayed she wasn't alone. Right then, he felt that it wasn't right for anyone to be alone.

I gave her my word.

"I think you bruised my spine," Thomas's voice rang in from the other side of the curtain, jolting Alexander out of his thoughts. He was surprised at the speaking - they hadn't spoken once to each other since they tried to rip each other to shreds.

Alexander quickly composed himself, "If I did, it was because you deserved it."

A scoff at this, "Yeah. Maybe I did."

Silence passed between them, like falling darts.

It felt funny, hearing Thomas's voice, but not being able to see his snide and cynical look. Alexander almost wanted to push the curtain that divided them away, so that they were in the same room again. But then he remembered his sore arm, and thought better.

"So," Alexander said, voice steely and stiff. "Here we are."

"Finally," Thomas added.

"After so many years of verbally attacking each other," there was a bitter laugh in Alexander's tone. "We are now on sickbeds, side by side. Blood and bruises and all."

"Well," Thomas said. "I wouldn't consider this side by side, exactly -"

"It's as side by side as it gets," Alexander snapped, irritated. "I don't want to look at your face. Do you want to look at mine?"

"Only to relish in the damage I've caused you. What is it? A black eye? Bloody nose?"

Alexander closed his eyes to this, breathing out a long sigh, "Oh my crap. You are so childish."

"Hey," Thomas's voice sliced the air. "You're the one who put us here."

"Me?" Alexander shouted.

"Yes. You attacked first. By the way, thank you for that - you're paying the price of a fight I wanted to start myself."

"Aha! So you admit," Alexander said, triumphant. "You wanted to start one yourself."

"Well, you were being highly annoying to my date."

"For Pete's sake, you don't own Angie!" Alexander's voice rung out, loud and clear. It echoed around the clinic, empty except for their two beds. "You had no right to put you hands where they were."

"They were on her waist!" Thomas yelled back, roaring just as loud. "And mind you, you don't own her either."

Silence cloaked them like the night. Alexander could see the silhouette of Thomas's Afro through the white curtain, and watched it decline back onto the bed, bruised.

"No," Alexander's voice was as soft as a whisper. "I don't own her ... neither of us owned her, but somehow we both lost her."

Thomas didn't answer this, almost as if he was letting his silence agree with him.

"I gave her my word."

"About what?"

"About you," Alexander said. "I told her I would ... behave."

A scoff, "I didn't." His tone was careless and inconsiderate. It made Alexander's insides boil and spit fire.

"You know, you could be a little less of an ass right now," Alexander spat, tongue dripping with poison. "Considering the circumstances we're in."

"And what circumstances would that be?"

"We've both just lost the woman we love!" Alexander roared. "We both lost ... love ..."

Silence again.

"What's so important about love, anyhow?" Thomas's voice was curious, lighthearted. As if he were asking about Algebra, and not one of the wonders of the world.

Alexander sighed, "Beats me," he said. But he himself wasn't satisfied with his answer, so he tried again. "It's just ... important. It makes us happy."

"A lot of things make us happy," Thomas replied. "Money. Food. Pleasures. Anything and everything makes us happy. It's human nature."

"Yes, but none of that is true happiness. You know?" Alexander was thoughtful as he said this. The words were flying out of his mouth, but really this was the first time he had ever thought about it. The first time he had ever questioned love, or wondered about it.

The silence that washed over them this time filled with their thoughts, curious and pondering. Grasping for loose threads.

"Have you ever watched the Moulin Rouge?" Alexander asked, the first to break this thought-filled silence.

"No," Thomas answered bluntly.

Alexander paused, "Really? Never? The one with Ewan McGregor. You've never watched that?"

"I don't watch movies, genius," Thomas snapped back, sarcastically, but his tone hinted defensive. "I use my time more wisely. I thought you did too."

If this were any other time, Alexander would have been furious. He would have snapped back, tongue lashing and eyes filling with hate. But today, his reaction was entirely different.

"I never watched movies before," he said, calm as the ocean in early morning. His eyes were locked on a lose blanket thread in his hands, that had escaped the flow and tight-knit of its brothers. "But Eliza made me. One Friday night a month, the gang would watch something at the Schuyler's. One of the nights, we watched Moulin Rouge."

Thomas waited at this remark, "Okay?"

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is to love and be loved in return."

There was a Long pause as this sank in. Alexander turned his head and saw Thomas's silhouette still with thought.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Alexander shrugged, "I don't know, really," he answered in truth, drawing a snort from Thomas. "But I think, whatever it is ... I believe it now."

"Please," Thomas drawled, breeding sarcasm. "You of all people should know that there are many great things to learn about in the world. Many things to accomplish, and set right. This is one way we are alike, you and I."

"No."

Alexander's voice was firm, and hammered the air like an echoing drumbeat. Thomas paused at this, as if catching his balance from an earthquake.

"This is one way we were alike," Alexander corrected. "But now, it's the one way we are different."

Both of them knew that this statement wasn't accurate - there were a thousand ways the two of them were different from each other - but for some reason, Thomas kept quiet after this.

As if he really believed it.

"Do you love her?" Thomas asked, after a Long pause.

"Yes," Alexander answered, without a beat in between. "Do you?"

There was a still moment, as Alexander examined his opponent's silhouette from the other side of the curtain.

"I thought I did," Thomas said. "I mean, I was willing to kill you for her ... but now, I don't know."

"Why not?"

An impatient sigh, "I don't know why I don't know. Okay? All this time, I've been looking for the right girl."

Alexander quirked an eyebrow at this, "By disposing of them after you've used them to your advantage?"

"That's different," Thomas's voice was quieter. "That was ... B.A."

"B.A.?"

"Before Angelica."

A wave of realisation washed over Alexander, and his eyes opened wide.

"Are you saying," Alexander started, uneasy. "That when you met Angelica, you started wanting to be different?"

"Well ... I really liked her," Thomas said in answer, unashamed. "I think I went crazy for her. She's so bold and brave and ... brilliant. She's addicting."

Alexander secretly agreed, but couldn't say this - because at the same time he was furious that the words were coming out of Thomas Freaking Jefferson's mouth.

He willed himself not to say anything.

"Okay," Alexander said, not able to hide the sharp edge to his tone. "So?"

"She made me want to be better person," Thomas continued on, either ignoring Alexander's tone or having not heard it. "I wanted to ... deserve her. You know? But you all think I'm an asshole, so ... I don't know. I mean, you're probably right."

And then, something happened. As Alexander heard these words coming out of his enemy's mouth - the man he had debated with and insulted and made fun of behind his back - as Alexander listened to what he never thought he would hear in his lifetime ...

He felt pity.

He felt a wash of compassion to this person, who had caused him so much riled up annoyance and outrage.

"So you're just gonna give up?" Alexander pressed on. "You're going to give up a life with the perfect girl?"

Thomas scoffed, "I mean, what else can I do? I'm bad person, aren't I? You think so. Everyone thinks so."

"Hey - I never said you were a bad person."

"You said I was an asshole. You called me a dick. Once, I overheard you making fun of my hair."

This, Alexander could not lie about.

"Well," he started, awkwardly. "All of those things ... are different, from being a bad person. Really different."

"Really?" Thomas's voice was thick with sarcasm. "How so?"

"I've known many assholes in this lifetime," Alexander said. "Like ... like ... Seabury!"

"Seabury is fine," Thomas said. "He just needs to sort out his priorities."

"Okay, well, let's say James then. Reynolds."

"James Reynolds is a bad person."

"Not necessarily!" Alexander exclaimed.

"Bullying and sexually harassing people in the school isn't considered bad?" Thomas deadpanned, bluntly sardonic. "He was expelled."

"That doesn't mean he's not a bad person! Deep down!" Alexander still cried, stubbornly. "He was once an innocent boy, too! Before Satan took over."

Thomas sighed, long and fed up, "Just forget it," his voice was soft and vulnerable, almost. "I missed out on everything. You didn't think Angelica was the first girl I screwed over, did you?"

Alexander's head snapped into alarm mode, with just this sentence, "WHAT?"

"For Pete's sake!" Thomas shouted, angry suddenly. "Not like that!"

Alexander's emotions calmed as quick as they had risen.

"Okay," he said, awash with relief. "Okay."

"I mean, my family used to move around all the time," Thomas continued on, pretending nothing had happened. "I lived in France for quite a while. I threw away some pretty good shots. I ... let a lot of them go."

"Why?" Alexander asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, I didn't mean to," Thomas said, irritable. "It's just ... that's just the kind of asshole I am. The bad kind."

Alexander waited a moment, searching desperately for the right words to say. But he was beginning to come up empty, not able to find his way to Thomas. Does anybody have a map?

Thomas swore foully, "Gosh. I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this. You of all people, for Crap's sake."

"Well, I don't know why you're telling me this either," Alexander said, suddenly firm and clear. "I'm not a councillor. I don't know the right thing to say."

There was a pause. "Thank you for that," Thomas said.

"But - I do know what I'm going to say," Alexander amended. "Whether it helps you or not."

Thomas seemed surprised at this, "Okay ..."

"I don't like you," this was stated bluntly. Alexander could feel a sarcastic comment coming, so he hurried on. "And I agree, you are an asshole. But Angelica - she does like you. She likes you so much, that she tore through everybody's judgements, and brought you as her date to the Winter Dance."

There was a silence.

"And while I don't trust you, I do trust Angie," Alexander said, his heart filling. Suddenly, he felt that he knew how the hell to do this. "And she seems to think there's good in you. Because - an angel wouldn't put faith in the devil, unless there was something in there worth the risk. You know?"

Thomas stayed silent, seeming awash with thought, but it was unclear due to the dividing curtain. Alexander wished he could move his arm, and draw the curtain aside, so he could see Thomas's expressions and thoughts.

"I think that, despite all of my opinions, Angelica is a damn good judgement of things. And if she had the instincts to believe in you, and gather strength in you, then you must be something that's ... really worth it," Alexander smiled. He really smiled while saying this. "Don't you think?"

:::

"You know," Thomas said, after the longest of wave of silence had washed over them and faded away. "I don't like you either. I never did." His voice sounded cracked and hoarse, as if he were crying.

Alexander nodded, "Good to know, honestly."

"But that was ..." Thomas gasped, laughing. "... a fucking great speech. You really do always say what you believe."

Alexander smiled, eyes twinkling, although he knew Thomas couldn't see it, "Of course I do. I'm Alexander Hamilton."

"And there are a million things you've yet to destroy," Thomas said, but Alexander thought there was a grin in his voice. "So just you wait ..."

Alexander laughed, "Yes. Just you wait."

"I hate you, Hamilton."

"I hate you more, Jefferson."

Neither of them knew how long this would last, the strong bondage of brotherhood that seemed to be washing over the two boys at the moment. So they relished in it, putting politics aside, and feeling for once like the kids they were.