~Dream About Me~ ~Lams~

9

They stayed there for what seemed like forever, but was more like a minute. Part of Alex didn't want to move, as not to disturb John, who was still shaking slightly, but despite this he carefully picked him up and carried him to the living room and set him on the couch.

"What was that?" Alex asked, slightly frightened by what had happened. John curled up with a blanket and calmed himself before answering.

"It was a flashback. Demons don't have them, they usually see their past in dreams, but Angels sometimes have flashbacks if they see something familiar." John said, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

Alex nodded. He was looking at Lafayette and Hercules when it happened, so he must have known them in his past, just like Alex had seen in his dream. But he still was confused on one thing. "Was the memory bad?"

John blinked. "What?"

"You were crying. Was it a bad memory?" Alex asked, growing suspicious of the two men that had just randomly showed up.

"No, the memory wasn't too bad. I was crying from the pain."

Alex raised a eyebrow. "Pain?"

John nodded. "When you get a flashback you get sharp pains in your head, but mostly your eyes. It feels like their burning out. It's a horrible feeling, so most Angels avoid having flashbacks, or recognizing anything from their past at all."

"Oh." Alex said, speechless for one of the few times in his life. That seemed to happen a lot recently. Alex couldn't help but feel guilty, since he thought that barely remembering dreams were bad. He would rather not remember what he learned of his past than be in pain. John seemed to notice this and spoke up.

"Don't feel bad. I've gotten used to it, mostly. The first time it happened I was shaking so bad that I couldn't fly back to heaven. I had to call someone to teleport me."

Somehow, this made Alex feel even worse. He had always been slightly jealous of angels, since they had all the cool powers, but the price of pain every time you recognized something didn't seem very fair.

"What was the flashback about, anyway?" Alex asked, wanted to change the subject, or maybe get John to open up more. Alex had seen those two men in his dream, so knowing who exactly they were would help him figure out who he was.

"It was a flashback of our time in the war. All four of us were in the battalion together." John shivered. "War flashbacks are always the worst."

A question popped into his head, and before Alex could think twice, he asked it. "Is that how you died?"

John momentarily stopped. "What?"

"Did you die in the war?" Alex repeated himself, slightly regretting asking but also knowing he couldn't take it back.

John slowly nodded. "I don't remember much about it. I know it was towards the end of the war. Or, I think it was. I think I was shot."

"Oh. Me too." Alex replied, not realizing what he said until John looked at him with wide eyes.

"You think you were shot?" John asked, his hands starting to twitch.

Alex thought about it for a second. "I guess so. I don't think it was in a war, like you. Maybe I was robbed and shot."

John let out a relieved sigh once he said the last sentence. "Yeah. Maybe you were robbed." He repeated.

Alex blinked, wondering why he seemed so relieved, when he realized that the two men were both in the kitchen still. "You stay here, I'll be back."

Alex quickly stood up and started walking into the kitchen, hoping to avoid any questions when he heard John's voice behind him. "Alex?"

He turned around and looked at John. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry." He said.

Alex blinked. "For what?" He asked, confused.

John let out a small laugh, although it sounded forced. "Oh, nothing. Just go into the kitchen, I'll be in here." He said, laying down on the couch and closing his eyes, efficiently avoiding any questions from Alex. Alex left the room, walking into the kitchen.

He saw Eliza getting glasses of water and handing them to Lafayette and Hercules. They thanked her and asked her how she was.

"I'm doing alright, considering everything." Eliza answered, and Alex sat down at the dining table, starting to get bored of the small talk. He hated small talk.

He laid his head down on the table. Despite resting a few hours ago, he was still tired. He was tempted to fall asleep right there until he heard something.

"Alex was a good man, he wouldn't want you to be sad."

He quickly looked up, eyes wide. Did someone just say my name? Part of him expected him to see John to be the one who said his name, but he wasn't in the room. It was only Eliza, Hercules, Lafayette, and himself. He couldn't tell if he had just imagined it, but he was almost a hundred percent sure he had heard his name.

Eliza sighed. "I know he wouldn't, but it's still difficult." She said. She had her computer opened, facing towards her.

Something pulled Alex toward it, and he walked over to the computer and looked at the screen. His eyes widened.

His obituary.

Philip's dads obituary.

And on it, it read "Alexander Hamilton".

And it clicked, as if the last puzzle had fallen into place. Alex's eyes widened as he backed away from the computer. He ran upstairs.

He slammed open the door to Philip's father's office and rushed towards the desk, where the picture he had observed a few days ago still sat. He reached down and picked it up, his hands shaking.

Once his eyes landed on it, the photo slipped from his hands and fell onto the floor, pieces of glass flying away from the frame and spreading across the wood. The photo of Philip's father and John, the one that had once had a blurred figure, was now clear as day. The blurred figure was gone.

His own face was there instead.