Zero Two Three One | John Laurens X Reader [Hamilton]

LXXXV: One Reckless Declaration

❝The search for someone to blame is always successful.❞
—Robert Half

Fire Island is quite the ironic name for an island that is as cold as ice and without a grain of sand. These Russian refugees are putting up with a lot of shit by being here.

December 3, 2060.

I don't know why I expected Washington to stay away from the island, but I did. I was completely wrong. He arrived here almost immediately after we brought over the last Russians.

And once we (Washington and the members of his Inner Circle) were all here, a tent was pitched so that we may have a meeting in private. It's not as glamorous as the meeting room we had in Anchorage, bearing nothing more than a long table where we seat at our unassigned-assigned-spots, but it's all we need for what we're discussing.

"So... What happened?"

That is the question of the meeting, but there has yet to be an answer.

So far, all that has happened is Alexander and Lafayette trying to explain what everyone knows happened. The AmeriComs and the rampage and the bloodshed and the losses.

But when Washington asks what happens, we all know there is a lot more to the question than just the "what". He wants the whole who, where, when, why, and how.

We can't provide much. Well, perhaps Alexander could, since he might as well have been complicit in it, but I know he won't say a word about what happened behind the scenes.

Frankly, Lafayette and Alexander are getting fucking annoying; they are steadily increasing in volume as they try to overpower the other and earn Washington's attention; have they not noticed that Washington sits there pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head?

Drew Davidson tries to calm Lafayette. Aphrodite Anderson endures their insolence. I'm sure if Hercules were here, he'd find this damn amusing. As for me, I've grown weary.

"Alexander, shut up," I hiss.

His violet eyes flicker to me for only a moment before he continues to appeal to the tiresome Washington.

He blatantly ignores me, and I don't take this well. I kick his leg under the table.

"Ow, cyka blyat." Alexander throws me a dirty look. "What?"

"Shut up for a minute," I plead. I glare at Lafayette. "And you shut up too."

Lafayette bares his teeth. "Excuse me?"

"You're annoying as all hell! Do everyone a favor and shut up."

"I don't take orders from Russian spies."

Alexander puffs up his chest, sucking in all the air he needs to shout vicious insults at Lafayette for what he called me, but before he can release the storm, Washington's voice hails above all others.

"I need silence. Please."

And so there is silence.

I can hear the beating of my heart echoing in the cavern of my chest, like a victim of a situation that I could've foreseen and prevented had I been fast enough. It's almost painful, and I wait eagerly for it to be broken. Washington is the one who breaks it.

"I understand that there is great confusion. It is apparent to me that none of you can tell me the occurrences of that day. I won't press on any further, lest this senseless bickering and infighting continue. I'll have Hercules investigate the incident further and report back to me."