Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jessica Lozano had spent a lot of her life in the local library. At first, it was a way to give tía Rosa a little peace of mind: she could let her kids, which had suddenly included her then-two-year-old niece, sit and listen to a handful of stories while she ran some quick errands at the nearby stores. As Jessica grew up, it became clear to everyone how much she genuinely loved reading, despite her less-than-stellar grades (an argument that never ceased in the Morales household). Once they’d figured that out, whenever Jessica got rowdy, tía Rosa or tío Javier would bring her to the library and let her bury herself in stacks of books.

By the time she got to high school, Jessica was pretty much a fixture in the library. She knew all the staff by name: she could tell you how Karen’s wedding planning was going, or how Marcus’ mother’s hip replacement had gone, and spent lots of time cooing over pictures of Daya’s new dog. She could point someone looking for a book in the right direction just as well as, if not better than, the computers. Marcus kept joking that they should carve her name into her usual table near the back.

So, when her cousin Carmen asked Jessica to drive her to the library to pick up some books for a history project, Jessica didn’t mind at all.

"What’s this project on, anyway?" she asked as they entered, taking a moment to wave to Raven behind the counter.

"The Louisiana Purchase," Carmen answered, squinting at the signs above the shelves.

"Are you not wearing your contacts?" Jessica asked as she steered her cousin to the right section. "The books are in chronological order," she explained, after watching Carmen tilt her head sideways to look at entirely the wrong shelf.

"I ran out," Carmen admitted as she made her way to the right section. "My glasses were giving me a headache, though."

"You need a stronger prescription," Jessica said, and tried not to give any more hints. Carmen was very independent, and as much as Jessica wanted to pull out books to suggest, she knew Carmen wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead, she let herself observe the other people wandering the shelves.

There was a middle-aged guy at the other end of the aisle. He was bundled up in a jacket and cap, but he was also wearing old-fashioned trousers and boots that looked like they belonged in an episode of Drunk History. They did not look comfortable. Jessica frowned at him for a second, and turned away so he wouldn’t catch her staring. He looked really familiar, but she couldn’t place his face. Maybe he was another regular at the library.

She glanced back one more time and hissed.

"What?" Carmen asked, distracted, not looking up from the book she was flipping through.

"That guy just pulled out the worst Lafayette biography this library’s got," Jessica said, nose scrunching up in distaste.

"Mierda," Carmen groaned, with her best bratty teen expression on. Jessica couldn’t help but be a little proud, because Carmen definitely learned that eyeroll from her. "I can’t believe you’re a biography snob."

"You’re surprised? Sorry, have we met?" Jessica asked, genuinely confused. Then, as an afterthought, she added, "Watch your language."

"That’s rich, coming from you," Carmen said, going back to her search. From the corner of her eye, Jessica watch the man disappear around another shelf. Seeing her opportunity, she slunk to the end of the shelf and pulled out her favorite biography of Lafayette.

"Jessie, no," Carmen said as she watched her older cousin peek around the corner.

"Jessie, yes," she shot back. The guy was standing in front of one of the tables tucked away near the back. As she watched, he added a few more books to the stacks already littering the table before walking away. Jessica knew the library's circulation statistics would appreciate it, but doubted this guy knew about that, or was giving any thought to the pages who would have to put them all back.

As casually as she could, Jessica walked over to the table. She grabbed the offending book, and slipped her recommendation in its place.

When she made her way back, trophy in hand, Carmen was leaning against the shelf and giving her a capital-L Look.

"What?" Jessica demanded as she slipped the book back into place, where it couldn’t trouble anyone with its incredibly dry prose and questionable research.

"You’re hopeless," Carmen sighed. She gathered up her armful of books, and headed for the checkout.

"Hey," Jessica said. Carmen wasn’t wrong or anything, but still. Had to at least protect her image. "Don’t think I won’t leave your ass here."

"Mama wouldn’t let you use the car anymore," Carmen reminded her as she started checking out her books.

Jessica couldn’t argue with that, so she just ruffled her cousin’s hair while her hands were busy, and then went to see if any of her holds were in.

Chapter Text

For the first time in her entire life, Jessica was a little scared to enter the library.

On the other side of those doors, behind the flier for piano lessons and the soccer tryout signup, was… Alexander? Mr. Hamilton? The honest-to-God fucking ten-dollar-founding-father himself?

Probably best to stick with Mr. Hamilton.

She took a deep breath and pushed the doors open… and then totally chickened out. She stopped at the circulation desk instead, to ask Soojin about her new niece. It was a nice conversation, but it just left Jessica more nervous about facing Mr. Hamilton.

On the one hand, she saved his life. That tended to put you in a person’s good graces. On the other hand, he then sat in on her almost-two-hour "discussion" with Abbie, in which she was grilled about the whole ‘we think my dad might have been been a warlock or something, but he’s kinda dead and we know nothing about his family, so I’m stuck winging it’ situation.

She didn’t know why Abbie was so cranky about not knowing. It wasn’t exactly something that came up in normal conversation; she’d hardly ever told anyone. She still wasn’t sure whether Lily even believed it, or if her girlfriend was just humoring her. And it wasn’t like Abbie had ever told Jessica that she apparently hunted monsters as a hobby, or that she hung out with guys from the Revolutionary War.

Mr. Hamilton startled her out of her inner turmoil by exclaiming, "Ah, Miss Jessica! I was wondering if you would be joining me today."

Jessica offered him a smile as she slipped into the seat across from him, and pulled off her hat and gloves.

"And pass up hanging out with Mr. Money himself?" she joked. Mostly joked. "Not a chance."

"It’s still odd to find my own portrait staring back at me, whenever I go into my wallet," he admitted as he made room for her on the table. Today’s pile of books was even bigger than the last time she’d seen him here. In retrospect, Jessica felt even better about switching out those biographies. He’d have hated the other one.

"You came back just in time," Jessica told him. She started digging in her backpack for her planner. She was pretty sure she had something due for history soon, if she could just remember what. And she should probably study for her French exam. Hamilton spoke French, right? Maybe he’d help her. "There’s talk of taking you off the ten."

Hamilton was instantly offended. "On what grounds? I am the one who brought the country’s entire financial system into existence."

"That’s what I’ve been saying!" Jessica agreed. "Honestly, if anything, take Jackson off it. Asshole literally shut down the banks. Or Jefferson! Like, people don’t even use two dollar bills anymore. Nobody would notice."

"Jackson – he was a president, correct?" Hamilton asked, sounding surprisingly hesitant. Jessica was suddenly struck with the reminder that, oh yeah, Hamilton had spent the last two hundred years in a crypt. Despite spending all his free time in a library, he was still shaky on all the American history he’d been dead for.

"Yeah, he was," she told him, flipping to the right page in her planner. Oh. A paper about the Federalist Papers. Was it cheating to ask Hamilton to help her with it? Her teacher always preached about using every resource available when writing papers. The fact that one of Jessica’s resources just happened to be one of the actual authors was sheer dumb luck, really. "Seventh president, right after John Quincy Adams. Yes, that John Quincy Adams," she added, when Hamilton opened his mouth to comment.

"I cannot believe Adams named his son after his vacation spot," he said, shaking his head.

"Technically he’s named after his great-grandfather," she said, "but still. Fuck Massachusetts."

Hamilton snorted. Jessica looked up from her planner.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he assured her. "I’m simply still taken aback by the changed modes of common vulgarity. The shift from the blasphemous to the obscene. It's so... physical."

It was Jessica’s turn to snort. "Physical isn't the first word that comes to mind, but I see where you're coming from." A thought struck her. She tilted her head at him. "Hey, is it true that George Washington cussed out Charles Lee after the Battle of Monmouth?" she asked. She set her planner aside and leaned forward over her folded arms, like she was hearing hot gossip across a cafeteria table instead of actual American history.

"He did. It was magnificent," Hamilton told her, copying her posture.

"Oh my god," she said gleefully, unable to keep from grinning. She tried not to giggle: that would be mad undignified. "Okay, actually, I have a few more questions? If you don’t mind, of course," she added quickly, when she saw his expression tighten.

"How’s this," he said. "I will answer your questions if you answer mine."

"Deal," Jessica said solemnly, holding her hand out. Hamilton shook it, just as serious.

"Ladies first," Hamilton insisted.

She flashed him a mischievous smile. "Are the rumors about Baron Von Steuben’s pantsless party true?"

"Ah, well — of course, I have no idea what the rumors say, but the answer is almost certainly yes," he said, flushing scarlet. This was the best day of Jessica's life. "Did they actually carve Jefferson’s face into the side of a mountain?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Jessica sighed. "Mount Rushmore, in South Dakota. If it makes you feel any better, Washington’s there too, plus Abraham Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt. Presidents sixteen and twenty-six," she explained, before he had a chance to ask. "Is it true you and Peggy Schuyler wanted to write a book on how to pick up guys?"

"I’m afraid we did," he admitted with a laugh. "Though I do hope you have at least a few questions of a less prurient nature. Now, tell me: what prompted the reversal in the age requirements for drink and voting?"

They went through a few more rounds of their new game. Jessica asked about the wilder parts of history, and Hamilton tried to fill some of the gaps of modern culture that he hadn’t figured out on his own. Eventually she ran out of questions (for now, at least; she was going to have to go home and make a list) and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

"Last question. Would asking you for help on a school essay about the Federalist Papers be considered cheating?"

Hamilton laughed and shook his head. "I will not write your assignments for you," he said, trying to scold, but his smile took all the bite out of his words.

"I don’t want you to write it for me. Just, y’know, make sure it’s factual."

He relented. "Write up a first draft and I’ll give it a look," he said, pulling a laptop out of his bag. Jessica stared at it for a moment, suddenly faced with the prospect of Alexander Hamilton let loose on the Internet.

She wasn’t horrified. Really! Alarmed, maybe. Concerned, definitely. But he seemed to know what he was doing with it, and she wasn’t about give him the Talking to Internet Strangers lecture she used to get as a kid.

With that thought, she pulled out her own computer and got to work on her paper. They worked quietly for a while, with occasional interruptions so Jessica could ask Hamilton for suggestions on how to word a sentence, or to fact-check something in her notes. Actually, it was the sudden lack of typing from his side of the table that made Jessica pause her own work.

"What’s up?" she asked, looking up to see him frowning at the screen in front of him.

"Could you explain to me, exactly, what a… Is it griffin-door? What is that?" he asked, looking from his laptop to Jessica. She immediately remembered the shitstorm that had erupted recently, on both Tumblr and Twitter, over whether or not Alexander Hamilton was a Gryffindor or Slytherin. Which probably meant…

"Oh my god," she breathed, horrified. She wondered whether anyone had given him the Never Read the Comments and Never Engage lecture, which suddenly seemed a lot more relevant. "Please tell me you didn’t Google yourself."

"Of course I did," Hamilton said. "But I find myself utterly perplexed by this debate. What is the point of these houses? Are they family houses? I can see the heraldry..." He clicked something on his laptop. "Are they accusing me of witchcraft? I thought the majority of the population still believed it to be nonsense."

"Wait here," Jessica told him. She got up and made a beeline for the Young Adult section. With practiced ease, she snagged a battered paperback off the shelf, and made her way back to Hamilton.

"It’s from this book series," she explained, holding the book to her chest. "Harry Potter. Completely changed the culture of books, in my opinion." She shifted on her feet, nervous, before adding, "Okay, so this series means a lot to me, emotionally. I connected with it a lot, which you’ll probably see once you start it. So even if you end up hating it, I’m gonna need you to lie and tell me you like it, or at the very least not bash it in front of me."

With that, she handed him the book. Hamilton handled it carefully, like it was precious, which made Jessica smile. She wanted to at least explain the basics of the plot, but she was interrupted by her phone vibrating.

Títí Madre: ¿Por qué es Luca anaranjado?
Jessica: ¿Su abrigo de invierno?
Títí Madre: Era gris anoche. Ven a casa y arreglalo, por favor.

Jessica sighed. "I gotta go," she said, and made her way around the table to pack her stuff up. When she grabbed her notebook, she was struck by an idea. "Here," she said. She scribbled her number on a page, ripped it out, and handed it to Hamilton. "This is my cell number. Text me whenever you have another question."

"Even less urgent questions? Miss Mills has been insistent that texts should be reserved for matters of immediate import."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Some old people feel that way. I use texts to talk to people all the time. Just don't expect any answers while I'm in school, we're not allowed to have our phones out. But go ahead and text me whenever."

"I will," Hamilton promised. He folded the paper and carefully tucked it into his bag. "Be careful walking home."

"I’ll be fine," she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I think we’ve established that I can take care of myself."

That got a laugh out of Hamilton. "Yes, I suppose we have. See you soon?"

Jessica smiled at him. "Definitely."

Unknown: Half of the library's patrons walk about with their ears constantly plugged or muffled by earmuffs. Is it to signify that they are not to be disturbed? Yr srvt, AH
Jessica: It has been 15 minutes, Mr. Hamilton. And yes. Kind of. Those are called headphones. They're listening to music through them.
Jessica: I can actually focus on reading better if I have music going at the same time.
---
Hamilton: Are notes sent via text message or email not signed?
Jessica: Only business emails, really. Other than that, no. Mr Crane’s the only person I know who signs his texts.
Hamilton: I see. Thank you.
---
Hamilton: Are public libraries not properly funded through the city? One would imagine a city would want to ensure a place of public learning should be able to stay open.
Jessica: Protip: Don’t let Karen corner you. She is a fundraising goddess, and relentless.

A. Ham: As same-sex marriage was already legal in New York, was this summer's Supreme Court decision less remarked-upon locally?
Jessica: Nope. Maybe the opposite. You woke up 6 months too late, honestly. Like, there’s still a lot of work to be done, but that was a beautiful day. Last time I happy cried, I think. Pride this year was AWESOME.
A. Ham: What is Pride?
Jessica: Google it. I wouldn’t be able to describe it as well.
A. Ham: I am finding dictionary definitions of the emotion and sin.
Jessica: Oh. Try Gay Pride. LGBTQ Pride. Also look up Stonewall.

Jessica: I convinced a friend to read Harry Potter and it’s been almost a WEEK and he hasn’t said ANYTHING ABOUT IT
Lily :* <3: Not everybody sits around reading all day, like some people :P
Jessica: Okay except that’s all he does. He’s always reading a new book. It would take him like 3 days to read all 7 books tbh
Lily :* <3: That sounds like an exaggeration, but then again he’s friends w/ u. Birds of a feather & all that
Jessica: I feel vaguely insulted
Lily :* <3: Never <3
Jessica: I’m dying of anticipation here, babe. I need to know his opinions. I wanna know how he feels about the metaphors
Lily :* <3: U, me, Friday after Thanksgiving, we’re gonna marathon the Harry Potter movies if ur gonna be this emotional over them
Jessica: I will always be emotional over Harry Potter
Lily :* <3: It ended like 4 years ago
Jessica: A L W A Y S
Jessica: Also I want froyo. You in?
Lily :* <3: Always
Jessica: Rude. Be there in ten <3

Not Lin-Manuel: What exactly is the point of Twitter? The character limit makes it impossible to make any posts worthwhile.
Jessica: Gotta make every word count, then.
Jessica: Wait a second. Please tell me you didn’t get a Twitter.
Jessica: Mr. Hamilton?
Jessica: Abbie’s gonna kill me

Little Lion Man: It appears that there have been riots and violent police reprisals for over a year regarding racial discrimination, but I can find no reputable news reports on the subject within the last three weeks.
Little Lion Man: Moreover, opinion essays suggest that new incidents are only acknowledged when a victim's plight goes viral on Twitter and Tumbler.
Little Lion Man: Do modern reporters have the attention spans of mayflies?
Little Lion Man: Is viral the correct word?

"If you do not turn your phone off," Isabella warned from the other side of their room, "I am going to smother you with my pillow."

"Please," Jessica grumbled, slapping her hand around on her nightstand until she found her phone.

Jessica: It’s 1 am. Go to bed.

Lil Hammy: How can they consider sorting children based on personality traits to be a feasible system? Do they not expect children’s personalities and beliefs to change as they grow?
Jessica: You started reading it!
Lil Hammy: And the fact that their security on such a precious item could be frolicked past by three children says less about the abilities of the children and more about the incompetence of the guards.
Jessica: You... finished reading it.
Lil Hammy: You asked me to speak of this book with care, and I will say in all honesty that the conceit is charming and the young heroes display excellent character. But all of their supposedly adult guardians are appalling.
Jessica: ... That's fair.
---
Lil Hammy: And now they are teaching dueling as a school club activity. I see no way in which this could possibly end horribly.
Lil Hammy: There were opinion essays suggesting dueling clubs in my New York. Even there, they were satire.
---
Lil Hammy: If this school taught even the rudiments of the Greek classics, the story of Perseus could have prevented at least half of these petrifications.
Lil Hammy: Although I suppose walking backwards throughout the corridors would have been an inconvenience.
Lil Hammy: Do you suppose they could cast magic mirrors to hover in front of their noses, and would those work as well as those made of real metal?
Lil Hammy: Though the real problem, as usual, seems to be their utter inability to hire competent instructors.

Jessica: So that friend actually FINALLY started HP and now he won’t stop live-texting me his reactions. It’s been like 2 days and he’s already on Goblet of Fire. Does he not sleep??
Lily :* <3: This happens 2 u way too often
Jessica: This may have been something akin to a mistake
Lily :* <3: The real question is what his opinion on Snape is
Jessica: I received
Jessica: EIGHT TEXTS
Jessica: Detailing his contempt for Snape
Lily :* <3: Just wait til he gets 2 Deathly Hallows :P
Jessica: Oh my god. I need a hug.
Lily :* <3: That can be arranged. U on ur way? We’ve got movies 2 watch
Jessica: Yeah, just waiting for Izzy to put some shoes on. She needs the car for the day
Lily :* <3: C u soon <3
Jessica: 10 mins tops <3
---
Lil Hammy: Miss Jessica, I hate to impose, but due to the Thanksgiving holiday weekend, the library is closed, and as of Wednesday they did not have volumes 5-7 on hand in any case.
Lil Hammy: Do you perhaps own personal copies you would be willing to lend me?
Jessica: Sure. Just tell me a time you’ll be home and I can drop them off
Lil Hammy: You will find me at home all day. I've been advised not to attempt to witness today's fascinating exercise in consumer capitalism, lest I be trampled.
---
Lily :* <3: Where r u
Jessica: Uh. 30 mins tops <3
Lily :* <3: Is it ur book friend? He finish Harry Potter & ur starting him on Hunger Games?
Jessica: ... Not a bad idea. I bet he finishes HP by tomorrow morning.

Two weeks after giving Hamilton her number, Jessica stalked over to what had become their table.

"If you text me after 11 pm one more time, I will break your phone."

Chapter Text

Jessica spotted Mr. Hamilton from down the street — technically, she spotted his outfit first; his taste in sweaters was unmistakeable — and waved. She hadn't seen him much lately; he'd been commuting to the city a lot lately. He waited for her by the doors to the library until she caught up.

"Good afternoon," she said as she came close, mock-formal. His manners were contagious, but that didn’t mean she had to take them too seriously.

"And a good afternoon to you," he replied, and gave a little bow that she knew was perfectly sincere. "I hope your school day was pleasant." Jessica tried her best not to giggle; she’d told him plenty of times that no one bows anymore, and he’d mostly stopped doing it for other people. But apparently she still rated one.

Hamilton opened the door for her, but before Jessica could take more than a few steps, she collided with somebody.

"Oh my god, sorry!" she apologized quickly, stumbling backwards. Then she saw who she'd walked into. "Oh. It’s you. Never mind, then."

Collin Lewis looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there. Which worked for Jessica, because she, too, wanted Collin Lewis to be anywhere else but there.

"Hey, Jessica," he said. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, and then took them right back out, and then gulped audibly. He even looked a little sweaty. Jessica bit back a smile at the reaction. It was nice to know she still had that effect on people. "So, uh… How’ve you been? How was your Christmas?" he tried.

"Great," Jessica said. "Yours?"

"Good, good." Collin rolled onto his toes before dropping back onto his heels; Jessica just raised her eyebrows at him. "So, uh, how’s your family? How’s, um. How’s Lily?"

"How’s your nose?" Jessica asked. Collin’s hands twitched before he stuffed them back into his pockets.

"I gotta go," he said abruptly. He turned and walked away.

"Nice seeing you again!" Jessica called after him. Turning back to the door, she blinked when she saw Hamilton staring at her. She’d actually forgotten he was there for a minute.

Taking a deep breath, she held herself tall, and went back through the open door like nothing weird had happened.

"What happened to his nose?" Hamilton inquired as he caught up to her.

"I broke it," Jessica answered, breezing over to their usual table.

Hamilton sputtered in surprise for a second. She’d never seen him speechless before. "I beg your pardon?"

"When I came out, he was very keen about being the first to give his opinion on it," she explained with a tight smile. She snatched her hat off her head, and started unpacking her bag with a little more force than normal. "Honestly, I was gonna let it go. He can say whatever he wants about me. But then he brought Lily into it, and I could not let that slide."

She turned briefly to drape her jacket over the back of her chair, and when she turned back around she found Hamilton still staring at her.

"You knew I used to get into fights," she reminded him. "I told you that when we met."

"I recall," he said. "However, hearing about something and coming face to face with the results are quite different."

"I guess," Jessica said, and shrugged. "I mean, he’s fine. Last fight I ever got in, if it makes you feel any better."

"Not as much as I’m sure you’d like it to, but the sentiment is appreciated, nonetheless." He watched her rifle through her binder for the right page for a second, and then asked, "Where did you learn how to fight? I can't imagine fisticuffs would be encouraged by your aunt."

Jessica frowned down at her math homework. "The first rule of Fight Club, Mr. Hamilton, is that you don't talk about Fight Club."

Hamilton frowned right back at her. "Did your school take a page from Hogwarts and sanction a dueling club?" he asked.

"No, it’s — Fight Club is a movie. Well, actually, it was a book first. It — you know what, never mind," she said, waving a hand. "My cousin Hero taught me," Jessica told him. She decided to save math for later, and pulled her laptop and history notebook out of her backpack instead. "I told her some kids were bullying me about my scars, so she taught me how to throw a punch. I kinda learned the rest as I went."

"Scars?" he asked, focusing on exactly the wrong part of her explanation. "I had not noticed any scars."

"Yeah, well," she said, desperate for a new subject. "You should check out Fight Club. I'll see if it's on-shelf." She went and found it, cooling herself down. "Here's the book. I like the movie better, but it's always gonna have a waitlist if you want to check it out. It’s a cult classic."

Hamilton, thankfully, let the rest of it drop. He took the book. "When you say cult..."

"Not, like, a religious thing," Jessica said quickly. "Just that it's a pretty weird movie, so it’s got a smallish following that’s really intense."

"I see." They worked in silence for a while after that. Jessica was still edgy, and Hamilton seemed lost in thought, turning pages at a slower rate than usual. The silence started to feel suffocating, and Jessica cracked first.

She asked, "So, how was your Christmas? Did it stack up against 18th century Christmas?"

"Ah, well," Hamilton said, in what was by now familiar as his ‘here comes the info-dump’ tone. He leaned back in his seat. "As far as past Christmases, New York didn't observe it to any great extent. The Lutheran Reformation and the Puritans considered it a decadence, and as many Anglicans did celebrate with caroling and feasts, it was seen as English and thus Royalist. Virginia, on the other hand, having closer ties to England..."

He caught himself rambling. He was getting a little better at that. "Christmas Eve, I supped with a colleague and her family, a most welcome event. The day itself, I occupied with work and study. Now, the day after Christmas —" He paused, a strange look crossing his face. "Hm. It might not be mine to say."

"Oh, now you gotta spill," Jessica said, pulling her chair closer.

He gave her a measured look. "How much about the, ah, underside of Sleepy Hollow do you know?"

"Some?" Jessica said hesitantly. "Like, I know I’ve got, y’know, gifts, and there’s all sorts of local legends about witches and monsters, but I don’t know a whole lot of specifics."

"I see," he said. "Yes, your gifts." He paused a minute longer, looking more serious than usual. "Jessica. With your... abilities, you hold an advantage in any physical contest, whether or not you intend to. It's the kind of advantage that makes young men, and apparently women, reckless. You know my feelings on dueling, in some detail."

"Uh. Yeah." Her face burned. "If this is about Collin —"

"It is. You fought him over a matter of honor, and you won. Conclusively, judging by how he shies from you. He is attempting to be civil. When satisfaction has been obtained, the matter is over. If there is any point, any value to the Code Duello in all its posturing, all the senseless bloodshed cloaked in its veneer of respectability, it is that the dispute, once settled, can be set aside without further malice." Oh, no, that was his disappointed face. She’d never had it aimed at her before, and it was awful. "Your continued intimidation of that boy is beneath you."

Jessica wondered if her undeveloped powers included sinking through the floor into the library basement, where Alexander Hamilton couldn’t look at her like that. "I... yeah. Okay, I was being an asshole. I'll stop. Really. And I meant it about no more fights." He was still making the disappointed dad-face at her. "I promise. On my honor." She held out her hand. He shook it solemnly.

"Good," he said brightly, as if nothing had just happened, and reached for his laptop. "Now, this should interest you. The first part regards scholarship which I must hold in confidence, but..." He pulled up a video and started poking around at it, trying to find the right spot. "Do you have headphones?"

Jessica got out of her chair in record time, pulled out her headphones and plugged them into his laptop. She glanced around to make sure no one was trying to look over their shoulders. Then the video started and she forgot about everything but the screen.

She watched in growing horror at the… ‘demon lady with claws’ was the first thing her mind came up with, followed closely by ‘massive fucking harpy.’ She didn’t think Hamilton would appreciate that last one, though, so she stayed silent as the video finished.

She looked between the screen and Hamilton a few times, "Holy shit," she breathed.

Hamilton chuckled. "Yes, that's an accurate summary."

"Tell me everything," Jessica demanded. She pulled her chair around to sit beside him.

"Well, first of all, the woman in the background here, Ms. Anna Harris, is a historian of hopefully growing repute. I've been considering introducing you. If your interest in history blossoms into an academic career —"

Jessica resisted the urge to shake him. "Mr. Hamilton!"

Mr Money: My apologies for being uncouth, but as you were the one who recommended this book and both the Wikipedia and the Urban Dictionary are vague on the subject...
Mr Money: Does motherf---er imply an assault on the mother of the accused or of the speaker?
Jessica: Uh. The idea of mothers in general, I think.
Jessica: Also, I’m gonna pretend you didn't just ask that.
---
Mr Money: Do you read any books in which people do not ritually fight to the death and attempt to overthrow the government?

Chapter Text

Jessica was woken up by the sound of something hitting the wall, hard.

"Please tell me that’s not her headboard," she groaned. She cracked an eye open to stare across the room at Izzy, who looked back at her in grim confirmation.

There was another thump, just as hard. And another.

"And that’s all the motivation I need," Jessica decided, throwing off her blanket. She levered herself upright, and grabbed her towel and bathrobe. "Early Saturday it is."

"Miss Jessica," came Hamilton’s voice from somewhere behind her, breaking Jessica’s focus on her book. "You’re here early."

"Hero’s boyfriend is over," she said, and made a face. "I decided it was best to make an early escape."

"I see." Hamilton took off his hat and overcoat. Jessica contained her glee at the fact that his new scarf, and the hat she had made (okay, made with Hero's help, but still), seemed to have become a permanent part of what she privately thought of as his peacock outfit. As he took his seat, he said, "Have you been here long?"

That was a good question. "Depends, what time is it?"

"Nearing 10 o’clock, I believe."

Oh, that wasn't bad. She’d had a lot more time slip her by while reading, before. "Nah, I’ve only been here about an hour. I got here a little before it opened. Making friends with the staff has its benefits." Like being allowed to sit in the library before it technically opened, if you happened to catch the right librarian. And her pick of the library sale leftovers, if she helped pack up.

"Clearly." He angled his head to get a better look at the spine of her book. "What are you reading today?"

Jessica held the book up straighter so he could see the title. "A Thousand Naked Strangers," she told him, then laughed at the shocked look on his face. "Not like that, jeez. It’s this guy’s memoir or whatever about being a paramedic in Atlanta."

"Para, medic. Someone like a medic, but not. What distinguishes a paramedic from a medic, or a doctor?" Hamilton asked, putting on his Deeply Interested face.

"Doctors work in hospitals or have their own practices and stuff, in a private office. Paramedics are the people in the ambulances, who deal with patients on scene. Medic is usually used just like paramedic. Did that make sense?"

"Yes," he said, still looking at the book. "It doesn’t bear the library's imprint. Is it your own?"

"Yeah," she said. "My cousin Expo gave it to me. They said they saw it and thought I’d like it."

"When you've finished, if it meets your standards, would you lend it to me? I have some passing interest in the medical professions. I thought you knew."

Jessica scowled at him. "No matter how many times you try to make me feel bad about it, I have read your biographies, not memorized them. Let me guess, Chernow mentioned it, like, once?"

"He devoted a few full pages to it, in fact." When this didn't miraculously bring it all flooding back to Jessica's memory, he kept talking. Jessica firmly reminded herself this was the price of actually getting to know someone instead of just thinking he was cool in books. "It was the unspoken goal of my sponsorship to New York. They would send promising young men to the mainland, and, if fortune smiled, in a few years they would find skilled doctors washing up on the island's shore once more. My chief interest was law, but I still gave it consideration, and tried to give an ear to advances in treatment."

Jessica tried to imagine it. "Wow. You, uh, no offense, but that probably would have been a disaster."

"Indeed. I might have talked more patients to death than I cured." They both laughed. At least he could admit when he was ridiculous. Usually.

"Well, you really can't get away with that stuff as a paramedic. It’s intense; every second counts. There's only time to do what's right in front of you. Which is basically perfect for me."

"Are you considering the practice?" Hamilton asked. "I was under the impression you were interested in a career in academics."

"Yeah!" Jessica said, putting the book to the side. She hadn’t really told anyone about her interest yet, so she was excited to talk about it with Hamilton. "Expo’s datemate is a paramedic in Sleepy Hollow. They were over for dinner last week, and the three of us watched this documentary following an ambulance crew in NYC. It was mad interesting, especially once Mac started adding their own stories. I think that’s what I wanna do with my life."

Hamilton looked surprised, which Jessica didn’t blame him for. Everyone expected her to be a historian. She’d even considered it for a while, but after reading up on everything it involved, she eventually realized academia wouldn’t be the best fit. While college and graduate school would be way different than high school, Jessica wasn’t all that positive she could handle the classes or the workload. This, though, she was sure she could do.

"Mac is actually one of the people in charge of giving the classes. I technically can’t start the classes properly until I turn 18, but they said I could sit in as long as I don’t touch anything."

Hamilton nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment before saying, "I find it hard to believe a single documentary would sway your choice of career."

Jessica bit her lip, and thought about telling him. It was probably past time. "Not entirely," she admitted. "A couple of months ago, I mentioned my scars."

"I recall. I admit I’ve kept an eye out for them since, but I haven’t noticed any."

Jessica shrugged off her cardigan. "That’s because you’ve always seen me in jackets and sweaters," she said as she displayed her right bicep for him; thin pink scars crisscrossed over the otherwise smooth brown skin. "I’ve got ‘em all down my side and leg. On my neck, too, but I guess it’s always covered by my hair."

Hamilton studied her arm before looking her in the eyes. "How did these occur?" he asked. "If you do not mind my asking, of course."

Jessica pulled her cardigan back on, and tried to un-hunch her shoulders. "I don’t mind. It was when I was little – like, two, almost three. Got in a car accident, ended up with shrapnel embedded in my right side. Títí says the doctors were really worried about the pieces in my neck, but once they got ‘em out, it was a pretty smooth recovery. I guess. Like I said, I was a baby. I don’t remember it."

Hamilton just stared at her some more, making her shift in her seat. Silent concern was a new look on him, and she didn’t think she liked it. Finally, unable to take the look in his eyes, she said, "I’m fine, though. Like, once in a blue moon they’ll twinge or whatever, but they don’t hurt or anything. Really, I lucked out. I can still move fine. I survived."

That was obviously the wrong thing to say, because Hamilton’s expression turned sadder and… ah, fuck, piteous. If she had to deal with one more person giving her the 'sorry you're an orphan' look...

"I take it," he said slowly, "you were not alone in the car."

"I live with my aunt and uncle," she reminded him, trying to keep her temper. "You do the math."

"I'd roughed out the equation months ago," he told her. "That makes the specifics no less personal."

That made Jessica pause, and then narrow her eyes. Of course he had. This was Alexander Hamilton, after all; he was sharp as hell, and slightly obsessed with parentage. Or, really, lack of parentage. He’d probably figured out the basics of her family situation thirty seconds after she mentioned her aunt and uncle. That didn’t mean she appreciated the 'I’m already 10 steps ahead of you' tone he had going on, though.

"Right," she huffed. "Of course you did. It’s… like you said, it wasn’t just the documentary. The accident is part of it. The EMTs were the ones who stabilized us on the way to the hospital. They… they saved my life. And I was thinking, ‘hey I bet I could do that.’ Plus I thought, like, it was a kind of way to give back. They helped me, and now I could help people too."

Jessica stopped to catch her breath and glanced up at Hamilton, trying to gauge his reaction. He seemed… even more surprised, if that were possible.

After studying her for a moment, he said, "That’s quite noble of you."

Jessica blinked; noble wasn’t exactly a word she’d apply to anything she did. "Not really," she said. "I mean, there’s lots of people who go into the field for similar reasons. It’s just what inspired me."

She paused, and looked around before she leaned in closer, motioning for Hamilton to do the same. "Plus," she added in a quieter voice, "mama was looking for something in the attic and came across a box of books from my parents, a while back. Some of them must’ve belonged to my dad. He was in medical school, so there’s a bunch of textbooks, but there was this really old book, too, that was all hand-written. Half of it’s in, like, Latin or something, and I don’t understand any of it, but it looks like there are a bunch of healing spells, and some other stuff that seems like it’s health-related. If I can figure them out, that’d be totally sweet. Like, what’s the point of these powers if I can’t use them to help, right?"

Hamilton gave her a Worried Parent face that could give papi a run for his money. It was both impressive and annoying.

"You shouldn’t toy with things of this nature," he warned. "Not without guidance."

"I really don’t have a choice," Jessica pointed out. "Like, my dad was apparently the one with the gift, but he’s gone and we don’t know anything about his family. Everything I’ve found so far as been on my own, on accident. All I’ve got is this book." When he still didn’t look convinced, she sighed and added, "I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m always careful."

"Like you were with your cat?"

"I’m working on it!"

"I’m sure Luca appreciates it," Hamilton said, and smiled when Jessica glared. "Now, my reservations aside, I admit to curiosity about this book. The occult has never been my line, and Eliza largely left it to her sisters. But to find such a powder keg sitting in your attic? I fear Crane's relish for the subject may be contagious."

"Well, I guess that’s just a side effect of living in Sleepy Hollow," Jessica offered with a shrug. "At least, once you know to look for it. I could bring the book by Abbie’s sometime if you want to see it. I could show you the spells in English, but I dunno about the rest."

"Don’t worry about it," Hamilton told her with a wave of his hand. Jessica had to bite back a smile; he’d definitely picked that up from her. "Crane’s fluent in Latin, and mine is serviceable at least. We could help you with the translations."

"You’d do that?" Jessica asked, surprised. She had expected to have to do this on her own, armed only with Google Translate and the few books the library had on Latin. "And you’re sure Mr. Crane wouldn’t mind?"

"Of course he won’t," he said confidently. "He’d love to get his hands on an unfamiliar spellbook, I’m sure."

Chapter Text

When Jessica left the library at 3 to spend the rest of the day with Lily, Hamilton had been up to his ears in research. He hadn’t even looked up since the lunch break she’d dragged him to. At 9:15 that night, partway through Rent, her phone rang.

"Your mom?" Lily asked, frowning. "I thought you told her you were gonna be home late."

Jessica extracted herself from their blanket cocoon just long enough to grab her phone off the coffee table. "It’s Soojin, the librarian," Jessica said, with a frown of her own. "Hello?"

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Soojin demanded.

"Nine or so?" Jessica guessed, confused. "Why?"

"It is exactly 9:16, which means the library is closed, and Alex is still. here." She sighed. She sounded really tired. "I don't think he can hear me. We don't have in-house security, and I'd rather not call the cops on him. But he might listen to you."

Jessica groaned. "Okay. I’ll be right there." She hung up and turned to her girlfriend, apologetic. "I gotta go."

"We didn’t even make it to La Vie Boheme," Lily said. God, she looked cute when she pouted. "Why does Soojin need you anyway?"

Jessica made a face, and tried to come up with a way to say ‘Alexander Hamilton is being a pain in the ass and won’t leave the library’ without actually saying, like, any of that. She finally settled on, "It’s weird to explain right now. Brunch tomorrow, though?"

"Can’t," Lily sighed. "I’ve got lacrosse practice to make up for the one we missed last week. I’ll text you though."

"You better," Jessica said. She leaned in for a quick good-bye kiss. Or three. Finally she pulled back and laughed, "Okay, I really gotta go. Soojin was out for blood."

As was Jessica, once she pulled out of Lily’s driveway and had a minute to think about it. She just wanted to curl up with her girlfriend and eat her weight in junk food and watch a sad musical. Was that really too much to ask for?

The parking lot was empty, save for Soojin’s hatchback and its scree of bumper stickers. Jessica parked next to it.

"He’s in the back," Soojin told her when she walked in. She had her arms crossed, and a tired, cranky expression. Jessica nodded, not breaking stride as she made her way over to their table. If it weren’t for the towering stacks scattered across its surface, taller than when she’d left, Jessica would’ve thought that Hamilton hadn’t moved.

"C’mon, Alex," Jessica said, remembering just in time to use his first name while Soojin was in earshot. "Time to go."

"One more moment," he said distractedly, without looking up from the page of notes he was currently poring over.

"Nope, it’s late."

Hamilton didn’t even answer her. That was fine, though. She was one of six kids; she was good at out-annoying people.

"I’m going to sing Take a Break at you until you close the book and let me drive you home," she warned. When he still didn’t respond, she raised an eyebrow and started singing.

She made it through the counting without Hamilton so much as blinking. He was better at this than she expected. Probably had to do with having had eight kids.

She managed to get all the way to "polymath, a pain in the ass" — extra emphasis on "pain in the ass" — before he slammed his book shut to glare at her.

"Are you quite done?" he demanded.

"Yes, and so are you," Jessica shot back. "The library closed half an hour ago and Soojin wants to go home. Get your ass up."

Hamilton blinked, the fight draining out of his expression. "Oh," he said. "I hadn’t realized so much time had passed." He stood up and started to collect his things. He paused briefly to stare at the stacks of books he had accumulated. "Ah —"

"Leave them," Soojin said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere with her bag and sweatshirt. "Morning shift will put them away. Let’s just go."

It was all pretty awkward as the three of them trooped out of the library. Hamilton kept trying to apologize while Soojin walked ahead, showing them the shoulders of fury. Soojin didn’t even break stride once they were outside; she’d driven away before Jessica had her seatbelt on.

She usually felt the need to apologize for the state of her car — she shared it with Izzy, and it was almost as old as them — but Hamilton didn’t even glance at the mess of textbooks and fast food wrappers that made up the backseat. He just slumped down in his seat, hands tight around his notebooks.

"Seatbelt," she said. He buckled up, but still didn't say anything, staring off at something that probably didn't actually exist anymore.

As soon as she started the car, the radio, which was connected to her phone, started blaring. "Como le encanta la gasolina!"

Hamilton’s hand shot out to turn it off. Jessica grimaced as she pulled out of the parking lot; looked like he was back to being annoyed.

"Look, Mr. Hamilton," Jessica started.

"I’d rather not discuss it," he bit out.

Jessica’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He was annoyed? Well, fine. So was she. "Too damn bad," she snapped back. "You kept Soojin working overtime for almost an hour, which she does not get paid for, by the way, and I had to leave Lily to drive over here —"

"I didn’t ask her to call you."

"For fuck’s sake, Alexander!" Jessica snapped. "If I’m the one telling you to chill, then something’s really screwed up!"

There was a tense silence after that. Hamilton’s grip on the door handle tightened as they got closer to Abbie’s house, and his mouth was a flat, unhappy line.

On the one hand, Jessica didn’t want to talk to him because they were both annoyed and, apparently, both assholes. On the other hand, she didn’t want to make Abbie and Mr. Crane have to deal with Hamilton while he was like this.

"Okay, look," she finally sighed. "I know you’re trying to figure out the rest of that notebook, and looking for clues in, like, all of recorded history —"

"Which I would be able to accomplish sooner if people stopped interrupting my work," Hamilton grumbled.

"It’s gonna be hard to work if you’re passing out from lack of sleep," Jessica shot back. "I wasn’t singing Take a Break to be an ass."

"Oh?"

"Okay, fine, not just to be an ass. Whatever," Jessica said. She wasn’t backing down. "But I’m being serious. Abbie says she’s getting worried."

Hamilton shifted in his seat to narrow his eyes at her. "Have you two been gossiping about me?"

"Don’t be so dramatic," Jessica said, managing to catch herself before she rolled her eyes. For a grown-up, he could be awfully moody. "She just wanted to know how you’ve been, since apparently you’re barely talking to either her or Crane."

"I’ve been busy," he reminded her. "I believe I am close to finding the next piece of the puzzle. And I’ve only a few weeks left before I must send my return message, and nothing I can write is right, none of it’s good enough —" He broke off and turned back to the window.

"I get it," Jessica said, "and I know you want it perfect, but you’re gonna run yourself into the ground at this rate. Like, did you sleep at all last night? You were already at the library when I got there today, and you looked exhausted then."

Hamilton hesitated before answering. "I slept enough."

"That’s hella vague," Jessica informed him. "When’s the last time you ate?" She just barely stopped herself from narrowing her eyes, feeling eerily like her mother. She was usually the one forgetting to eat; it was weird being on the other side of it.

"I must admit, I don’t entirely recall," he said. "When did you take me to lunch?"

Jessica rolled her eyes. Checking her mirrors, she quickly pulled off to the side of the road and grabbed her phone.

"What are you doing?" Hamilton asked.

"Texting my aunt," Jessica answered, fingers flying.

Jessica: We’re gonna grab a bite to eat at the diner, so I might be home a little late
Títí Madre: Come right home after. Ten cuidado. Are you driving?
Jessica: Yes, but I’ll be extra careful. Te quiero.
Títí Madre: Y yo te quiero a ti, mija

She put her phone back in the cupholder and pulled onto the road, executing a flawless three-point-turn. Damn, if only she could do that again when Izzy was with her.

"Miss Mills lives in the other direction."

"We’re gonna get some food," Jessica answered, reaching out to turn the volume on the radio back up. The tension was gone for now, but she needed music or the silence was gonna kill her. "Apparently I’m dragging you to dinner, too. There’s this diner Lily and I go to all the time, and it’s open until, like, midnight."

"That’s not necessary," he insisted. "I can eat something once I get home."

"And work while you eat? If you remember to actually fix something at all?" she asked. "Nope, not happening. Plus they serve breakfast all day, and everyone knows breakfast for dinner is the best."

"I hadn’t heard that," Hamilton said, only halfheartedly amused, but at least the fight had gone out of him. "If you insist, then drive on." After a moment of silence, he added, "Did I ever thank you for making that recording for me?"

"At least twice," she said, "even though I told you half the fun was figuring out how to work those programmable greeting cards. Totally gonna use them with all birthday presents now. But I wouldn’t be opposed to hearing it again."

"Then I shall continue to do so," he said. It was a peace offering, clearly. "I feel I must also apologize. I did not intend to pull you away from your Miss Lily."

Oh, right, the peace offering was because he’d been acting like an asshole, and she was still mad about that. "Yeah," she said, "and you didn't intend to keep Soojin late, and you don't intend to be freaking the fuck out of your housemates, and there's a lot you don't intend."

He stared at her, shocked. "Miss Jessica, I am sorry. I know I’m not always the most considerate —"

She held up her hand. "Nuh-uh. Nope. You are not talking anymore until we are ordering food."

"Miss Jessica."

"Talk. Less." They drove a few blocks with the radio and the worrying brake belt squeak as the only sounds. "Soojin should have called the cops on you. Don't talk."

Mr. Hamilton made an exasperated not-talking sound worthy of a sulking teen.

"But you're a nice older white man in nice clothes, and she knows you and she knows me, so she did you a favor and cut you slack. Do you have any idea how much slack you get? All the time? Don't talk. If I fall through a time portal into the future, I'm not going to have a biographer, or a surprise trust fund. I'll be lucky if there's one book that's about things that happened to a bunch of people including me, and that book will probably be about some awful human rights tragedy. My face will not be on the fucking money."

She glanced at him in the rearview mirror. It looked like he'd started tuning into reality, and he was keeping his mouth shut.

She let the quiet sit there between them for a little longer. "You know I read your blog, right?" she asked. He turned back to her, startled. "You can answer that."

"In fact, no. I hadn’t realized," he said.

"Well, I do. And you know what I noticed? You’re still really bad at thinking about people on any scale in between the person sitting next to you and, like, a congressional district." He frowned, but bit back whatever he was about to say when Jessica raised a warning finger. "Nope. You should know this. Every biographer you’ve got knows this. Lin-Manuel Miranda definitely knows this. Unless it’s something that affects you directly, you’re great at seeing forests and absolutely terrible at trees."

"I beg your pardon," Hamilton said, and oh, hey, that was definitely sarcasm. She’d pissed him off again. Good. "The next time I participate in the building of a nation from nothing, I shall be sure to consider how my choices affect those born two centuries hence."

Jessica dug her nails into the steering wheel a little. "How about the way they affect people alive at the same time as you? That’d be a start."

"What on earth do you think I am trying to accomplish, have been trying to accomplish my entire life? Lasting change is effected by policy reform, systems that guide and support a free and just society. That affects lives."

"Lives. Giant group plural. Take a closer look. I’ve read all your damn biographies. You pulled the ladder up behind you the second you looked respectable enough. Don’t tell me you gave any thought to how your big plans would affect the next kid trying to claw their way up from nothing."

He’d gone quiet again. She didn’t look away from the road. "Maybe if you stopped trying to fit everything into the grand sweep of history, you’d get that actual people have to fit their individual lives into the stuff you write about. And writing all the policy in the world doesn't excuse you from tipping your waitress or cleaning up your own shit. Or listening to the goddamn underpaid public servant when she says, 'The library is now closed.' All of those things still count, and they count even more when you're one of the people who can get away with not doing them.

"And maybe it was wishful thinking, but I honestly expected better from you. You’re supposed to be brilliant. You started from nothing, you know the kind of pressure that stops people from escaping shitty situations, you know what it's like to have people keep calling you names your whole life based on how you were born. The fact you haven’t managed to wrap your head around this is just... disappointing."

She'd just meant it as a guilt trip, but realized as soon as it came out that it was true, and it hurt to think about, and that just made her more pissed off.

"I hadn’t realized you were so invested in politics," he said. He didn’t sound so mad anymore. When she glanced over, he actually looked a little impressed, but in a condescending enough way that she could gladly stay pissed off at him.

"Invested, yeah," she said. "Guess what, a brown girl dating another brown girl doesn’t really get to opt out of politics. I'm not in it for the common good of some mythical public." She pulled the car into the diner's parking lot and set the emergency brake with unnecessary force.

Izzy, with the single-minded dedication of a theater kid, had taught Jessica the finer points of faking different emotions. Izzy mainly used it to get out of gym; Jessica was going to use it to convince the handful of people in the diner that she didn’t want to strangle Alexander Hamilton.

The waitress on duty brightened up when they came in. "Hey, Jessica! Didn’t expect to see you tonight. You just made a late shift worth it, chica. Your booth's open."

"Thanks, Toni, that’d be great."

"Anything for one half of my favorite couple," Antonia said, leading them to her usual booth. As they settled into their seats, she looked Hamilton up and down. "And who’s this?"

The biggest pain in the ass, ever, Jessica thought.

Out loud she said, "This is Alexander. He’s a family friend. Alex, this is Antonia."

"A pleasure to meet you," Hamilton said, his smile forced but steady. He had practice at faking it, too.

"All mine," Toni said. "Can I get you two any drinks?"

"Water for both of us, please," Jessica told her, and started to flip through the menu. After a brief but awkward pause, Hamilton did the same.

"Cool. Be right back with those."

The two sat in tense silence after she left. Jessica kept her otherwise unneeded menu open so she had something to look at other than Hamilton's smug face. When Antonia returned, Jessica ordered Lily’s usual — eggs, sausage, and hash browns — figuring if she wasn’t going to see her girlfriend for a few days, she could at least be sappy and think of her. She didn’t really pay attention to what Hamilton ordered; as long as he got some actual food in him, her job was done. She was getting really tired of it being her job.

Jessica honestly didn’t expect Hamilton to say anything for the rest of the night, so she was a little surprised when he cleared his throat and started, "Miss Jessica…"

"Tread carefully," she warned, not looking up from her phone.

"You were right in what you said in the car."

Jessica glanced up at him. That hadn’t been in question, but she was willing to see where this was going.

"I am not often conscious of the effects my actions have on others, on any scale. Miss Mills and Crane have both pointed it out to me before."

Jessica snorted. And he hadn’t been thrown out on his ass? Abigail Mills was more patient than Jessica could ever hope to be.

"It has been difficult, of late, to remember that I am fortunate, when I had rather dwell on what I’ve lost. I ought to be dead. It is unprecedented, this chance that I’ve been given: to understand the work of my prior life with benefit of hindsight, with a full accounting of the legacy I’d attempted to create."

He sighed, and fiddled with the straw in his glass. "But I fear that you are right about my faulty vision, and I do not seem to have improved it overmuch in this new era. I divide my time between my own personal quest, which does no good for anyone but me, and issuing grand proclamations about the state of a nation I’m only beginning to understand. And in all of that, it seems I consider only myself: when I’m not chasing after pieces of Eliza’s puzzle, I’m holding forth from on high about the structural woes that befall our nation, rarely admitting to any fault in their origins or any stake in their results."

Damn. She forgot he was a legit genius. Ugh, how dare he understand the problem and apologize sincerely, she’d had some really good righteous fury going. And playing the ‘I ought to be dead’ card was unfair.

"So what are you going to do about it?" she asked.

"I fear I may be a trial to you for at least a little longer," he said, "while I work out the rest of Eliza’s bequest. But once that’s done, I will have to take stock of what I intend to do with my second life, and ensure I don’t squander it by repeating the mistakes of my first."

"Well, good," Jessica said. That was a start, at least. If he stuck to it.

"If I may," he said, "it seems sensible to start as I mean to go on. I heard a phrase, recently — ‘the personal is political.’ Are you familiar with it?"

"I have it on a t-shirt, actually," Jessica said. "Lily and I got matching ones."

"Then you certainly grasp its meaning better than I," he said, "for I think only this evening have I begun to comprehend it fully. Given this, perhaps it would behoove me to ask, if you are willing to answer: what matters of politics touch your life, that I have thus far been blind to?"

Jessica leaned back in her seat. She could see Toni, at the far end of the counter, putting their orders on a tray. "That’s a good question," she said, "and I’m going to answer it once I’ve eaten my weight in hash browns, okay?"

"That seems more than fair," Hamilton said, and for the next few minutes they ate in silence, except for Neil Diamond on the jukebox and a guy complaining about the Mets in the corner booth.

"So, when my grandparents first got here, from Puerto Rico," Jessica said, once she’d made a decent dent in her eggs, "none of the major realtors would rent them office space. Most of 'em are still in business, and most of 'em still redline when they can get away with it. My aunt co-owns a shop downtown, and a lot of her customers treat her like crap because her co-owner’s a dude and they assume he makes all the decisions."

It turned out Hamilton did have an active listening face; she’d just never seen it for this long before. Jessica kept going.

"My cousin Hero literally puts out twice as many designs as most of her co-workers, and gets fewer approved. Izzy couldn’t get a part with lines in any of her school plays until they put on West Side Story, even though she’s one of the best performers they’ve got. Carmen’s technique is perfect, and her dance teachers still keep asking her if she’s sure she wants to stick with modern dance, because she’s much better suited to hip-hop. Everyone I care about has to spend all their time being perfect, just to be treated like they’re worth anything at all. It’s exhausting, and it’s not fair, and if we fail it’s somehow because we just didn’t try hard enough."

"I used to know what that felt like, I think," Hamilton said. "I should not have let myself forget it. I never would have dreamt that your family was fighting on so many fronts."

"Yeah," Jessica said. "Because it didn’t occur to you to ask."

They sat in thoughtful silence after that; Jessica crossed her ankles to stop her leg from bouncing. She was still all keyed up, full of anger and frustration and relief and hope all at once, but she was also suddenly exhausted.

Antonia, beautiful amazing Antonia, chose that moment to swoop in with the water pitcher. She must have sensed the leftover tension, because she gave Jessica a look that said you good? Jessica nodded, trying to look reassuring. Toni didn’t look convinced, but she patted Jessica’s shoulder and left them to their meal nonetheless.

They were almost done eating when Jessica said, "You know how I said there won't be a book about me? I've been reading a book about my grandmother."

Hamilton looked up, surprise clear on his face. "Yes?"

"About some of the things she was running away from when she left Puerto Rico. It’s about reproductive rights, who gets to have children. Race and money, and the history of sterilization as a form of birth control and whether or not it has ever been voluntary. It’s… not easy reading."

"Any honest writing on injustice should pain the reader." Fuck, she thought she'd been getting through to him. He saw her expression and made a quick course correction. "But we were speaking of the personal, of your own grandmother. I... would like to read that book."

"In your copious free time?"

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I can’t guarantee I will get to it right away. Certainly not this week. But I will make it a point to read it as soon as possible. Thank you, Miss Jessica."

"Yeah, well. Anything to further the social justice education of old white men."

Chapter Text

The cooling system in the library was no match for the hot and sticky summer that had settled over Sleepy Hollow; while Alexander had sweltered through unmediated summers in full dress his entire adult life, he gladly took advantage of the relaxed sartorial standards that allowed him to go about in shirt-sleeves without causing offense. Leaving the house without coat or waistcoat still felt odd and a little unnerving, but when he had first staked out a table in the chill of Autumn, he had sought a defensible corner, difficult to ambush or eavesdrop, and it still soothed his nerves.

On that particular day, he was surprised to find Jessica already curled up there, wearing short pants and a sleeveless shirt in bold stripes of pink, purple, and blue. In front of her was a spread of papers; as she pored over them, she twisted her hair into a braid.

"It seems I need a stronger set of spectacles," Alexander joked, as he came within earshot. Since the schools had let out for summer holiday three weeks prior, the young woman had started sleeping in, rarely arriving at the library before one in the afternoon. That she was here before ten was something akin to a miracle. "Surely I must be seeing things."

"You’re hilarious," Jessica said, rolling her eyes. "You were clearly brought here to the distant future to fulfill your true destiny as a stand-up comedian."

"Alas," he sighed as he took a seat, "I fear no one would understand my jokes." He glanced over at the papers scattered across the table, and raised his eyebrows. "Is this homework? I thought you were out of school until the autumn."

"Summer work’s pretty common in high school," Jessica told him, shuffling the papers into a neater stack. "I have a packet for AP World History, plus my French teacher somehow convinced me to take AP French next year, so I have work for that too." She looked up to frown at Alexander. "You speak French. Will you teach me French? Never mind, you speak Ancient French and you're still busy trying to untangle all those ley lines. Anyway, on top of all that, for English I have to pick a book from this list," she said, and shook the offending piece of paper at Alexander, "and annotate it."

"May I?" he asked, reaching for it.

"Be my guest," Jessica sighed, and went back to twisting her hair off of her neck.

Alexander scanned the list. Most of the works he recognized only by name, whether from his months of scouring the library or from his forays into online book lists. A handful he knew from his own time as a student. One title in particular stood out to him.

"I'll be right back," he said. The errand took longer than he expected; he had been practicing navigation of the Dewey system by memory, but the classics apparently caused confusion for modern classifiers. Fiction, shelved alphabetically by author, failed to yield the prize, as did mythology. Resorting to the catalog, he determined Epic Poetry had been given its own far-flung designation, and set off across the building for the 800's.

"Here we are," he said, placing the book in front of her. She took one look at the title and made a face.

"The Iliad?" she asked. "Seriously?"

"It was one of my favorites as a student," he told her. "Your list only prescribes the first five books, but this edition has all ten in a single volume, avoiding the need to come back to the library for the sequels, unless you decide to follow it with The Odyssey, which, it must be said, has more fantastical creatures and dirty jokes."

Jessica stared at him, then pulled the book closer and started to half-heartedly flip through the pages.

"I dunno, Mr. Hamilton," she said. "The language is kind of... uh. It's not that I can't deal with the vocab, it's just..." Her expression suggested that what she was too polite to say was, in the modern idiom, boring as all fuck.

Alexander bit back the desire to explain how badly modern education was hampering the linguistic abilities of the young, by neglecting to teach either poetry or rhetoric in any depth. He confined himself to the most crucial point of poetry instruction. "It was never meant to be read silently. You listen to music while you read prose, do you not? An epic provides its own music."

Jessica glanced up at him, still skeptical. "And you’re sure it’s something I’d like?"

He cleared his throat, dusting off the courtroom voice he hadn't had occasion to use in months. "Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring / Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly goddess, sing!"

"Oh my god," Jessica said under her breath, hands coming up to her face. She seemed torn between awe and mortification, a reaction Alexander had once very much enjoyed eliciting from his own children.

Barely able to school his own expression, as smiling would ruin the effect, Alexander continued.

"That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reign
The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain,
Whose limbs unburied on the naked shore
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore.
Since great Achilles and Atrides strove,
Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!"

His feet itched to start pacing, but this was a demonstration, a mere sprint, not a marathon.

Marcus, the librarian who had consistently been the most deft at plucking out answers to his arcane economics research requests, wandered over in the middle of his recitation, hovering by the table to listen, the both of them wide-eyed.

"He’s got this all memorized?" Marcus asked Jessica in a low voice.

"Apparently," Jessica answered. "I thought being forced to memorize epics in school was only in movies, oh my god."

"I can also recite it in Greek," Alexander informed them. This was far too entertaining.

"You can not," Jessica declared, slapping her hands on the table. "I refuse to believe that."

He raised his eyebrows, a silent challenge.

"No way," Jessica said. "The only people who speak Greek are actual Greeks." Marcus, at least, was wise enough to take him at his word, just waiting to hear it.

"μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος," Alexander began, enjoying the way both Jessica and Marcus stared at him. They didn’t need to know that his Greek was more than a little shaky, and he could only get through the first stanza. "οὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί᾽ Ἀχαιοῖς ἄλγε᾽ ἔθηκε…"

Jessica threw up her hands. "Now you're just showing off!"

"I am," Alexander said, unable to stop smiling.

She flipped to the beginning to look at the first stanza. "This... is not what you said."

"I learned an older translation than the one in your hands. There are four others listed in the catalog, so you have your choice of poetic flavors, though the Fagles is assigned for your class, and from my brief look at it, I think I agree. 'Rage — Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus' son Achilles...' That is a verse worth sinking one's teeth into."

"Wow," Marcus said. "I've got to get back to the desk, but, wow. Classical education for the win. Now I'm thinking next April for Poetry Month, we could do dramatic readings from epics as an evening event. Alex, if you want to anchor it, that would be amazing."

"I would be honored." Alexander bowed. Usually he managed to catch his outdated habits of etiquette, these last few months, but in this case it was appropriate enough. Marcus retreated to the front desk.

Jessica still seemed stunned into silence, which was unusual. She studied the book in her hands with something marginally closer to respect. "Okay, so, what's it about?"

"All your favorites. Ritual fights to the death and attempts to topple a government."

She glared daggers at him. Ah, youth. "You'll have to be more specific."

"The Trojan War, ostensibly fought over the seduction and kidnapping of Helen of Troy," Alexander said. "Achilles was a demi-god Greek general."

"All I know about the Greek gods is that they made everyone’s lives hell," Jessica said.

He laughed. "That is also correct."

"What if I hit something I don’t know?" she asked, flipping through the pages. "Wikipedia’s kinda a rabbit hole for me, y’know. I could go looking for the Iliad, and end up reading about coffee production in France in the 19th century."

Ah, yes, Jessica's ADHD, the bane of serious scholarship. From her descriptions, her mind might at times be likened to a butterfly, flitting from thought to thought and hesitant to truly land on any subject that did not immediately seize her interest.

"How’s this," he offered. "Text me any questions you have, and I will answer them as quickly as I am able. That way you won’t get distracted by unconnected articles."

Jessica grinned up at him. "And so the student becomes the teacher," she said.

"And so he does," he agreed.