I mean, really! *looks at self in mirror* What were you thinking? 

There are four main reasons why I want to do... that. *points up at the title and swallows heavily*

I'll be honest:

1. I promised, at the beginning of this book, that I would finish before college.

2. I promised in the last chapter that I would write the next chapter in June, "when I have time".

3. In one of the (deleted) author's notes, I promised I would make changes to this book. Things like plot holes and the like.

4. Katherine isn't getting any better throughout the book.

Now, have I done anything about said promises?

No. 

Is Katherine getting any character development? have I decided her personality in the start of the book, or before she met John, Lafayette, or Hercules? Has there been a gradual shift in her character from chapter 1 to chapter 16?

No. Again. 

This book started out well, as seen in the number of reads in the first chapters. However...

1. Would Katherine really have the guts to grab Jefferson by his cravat like that and insult someone so great? 

So, just to give you something more, I'll give Kathy's and another ending to you, and answer a few questions you may have.

Here goes. 

*****

-It was John Laurens who met Abraham Lincoln, not Alexander Hamilton. 

-The third image that Alex saw in the last chapter (he said "they're burning children") was of the Holocaust. 

-In chapter 10, when I asked you who your favorite cast member was, the end result was Lin. This was going to be important in Kathy's ending.

KATHERINE'S ENDING:

-After she gets back to her own time (after Alex's death) she realizes it's 2024. 

-she goes into a cafe, finds Sophia there, who recognizes her after a few minutes.

-Sophia won't believe Katherine's story, and she says "Ha! And I'm Lin-Manuel Miranda." She casually shows her the phone lock screen, with a picture of him.

-as expected from her adventure, she pretty much chokes on her food in shock. thunder rumbles in the sky, even though it's sunny and August.

-Lin and Leslie coincidentally (see? the planning, it went very well) walks into the cafe, get a table nearby, and start talking. 

-Katherine obviously can't believe her eyes, Sophia's also in shock but not as much as K.

-K quickly gets to her feet, making a loud sound with the chair, and Lin and Leslie look at her. She's staring at them, especially Lin. He asks if she's doing alright, and gets up to help her.

-she shakes her head, makes a sound in her throat, and runs out the door. 

-in shock, (but not medically) she leans against a nearby lamppost and tears stream down her face

- then nothing moves for a good 2 minutes.

-the sky goes black. there's a sound like the sea crashing against a cliff. 

-Katherine walks back into the cafe, and takes Lin's hand, who takes hands with Sophia, and Oliver appears on Sophia's other side. All the rest of the characters appear and join hands as well. Everyone smiles. They take a bow as one. 

-What they see in front of them makes sense as what they hear: the sea against the cliff is the audience clapping inside the theater.

-The curtain falls.

(this was legit, i planned this to happen)

JOHN"S ENDING: (before Katherine goes back to her time. this was the ending i actually thought out.)

When John woke up, he found himself in a...

Church.

He tried to sit up and immediately let out a yell of pain. The bullet wasn't there anymore, but the wound was.

He hoped he was healing. There weren't any bandages, but it was a while since he had been shot.

He could tell it had been some time because of the sounds he had heard while traveling here.

The question at hand, John.

Why was he in a church? What had he done wrong?

Up, high up beyond many flights of stairs, he heard voices and the thud of a door closing.

John staggered into a corner, ignoring the pain as best as he could. He listened hard, trying to figure out exactly what he had done wr—

Oh.

He had liked Alexander Hamilton for a long time now.

Correction: he had liked another man.

But if this is the world that Katherine told me about...

He shook his head. He couldn't believe it to be true.

John grunted and pushed himself off the pillar where he stood. He had to confess.

But something was wrong.

He slowly climbed up the stairs, thinking about what he would say in God's presence.

Just then, eight dark legs wearing stockings and black shoes walked down the stairs.

"I asked my mama, can she make my hair like Coretta Scott King had hers fixed at the Washington March..."

Who? What?

Four girls—four black girls—passed him with no indication of seeing him and reached the lower landing of the stairwell.

"See, she just parts it in the middle and then she..."

Time seemed to slow down. Where was he? Something—something horrible—was about to happen.

Crack.

Crack, crack...

John looked at the walls. Little dark lines were spreading along them in random patterns.

He didn't have time to brace himself, but he let out a shout for the girls to look o—

BOOM!

A sound louder than any gun he had ever shot ripped through the farthest wall and flew its way to John's suspended body. Out of the corner of his eye, blood and bits of glass splattered everywhere as a small head with black curls was smashed against the wall.

And the next thing he knew, he was up high on a stage, next to a black man in a dark suit with bright lights flashing everywhere and so many... things... pointing at his mouth. More people than he imagined were down on the grounds, producing a sound so deafening that it took several minutes for them to quiet down at last.

His voice was louder than John had ever heard someone speak. It physically shook John's ribs, and when he got around to actually processing what he was saying, he tried to make his way off the podium to let him speak.

"...that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character..."

Suddenly he was in the crowd of people—no, a different crowd—and they were heaving themselves against men in blue suits and tiny black guns. A person screamed next to him: "You think we get AIDS just because we like people in our gender?!" They pushed against the blue people with renewed energy.

John realized what was going on and tried to help, but as he reached his hand out to another person to push against his back, his hand slipped through, feeling only warm air in place of a shoulder.

What is happening to me?

A whirl of color, and people were jumping up and down, holding heir hands to the sky. The man on stage was in... well, the shiniest clothes John had ever seen.

He craned his neck to see what was going on. The man had taken off a hat and held it out to his side. He put it back on and—

Screams of ecstasy rang in his ears. He covered them and noticed the man on stage was walking quite strangely, with his heels sweeping the floor.

"WE LOVE YOU, MICHAEL!"

John started and moved away from the screaming gang of girls near him. Drums reverberated through the floor.

And finally, finally, John found himself in a street almost free of people. His wound was healed up for some reason, and he looked up towards the sun, which was currently covered by trees.

Now where am I?

He stood up and gingerly touched his abdomen.

No pain at all. He let out a long sigh.

Then a white box-like thing bigger than a horse made a whirring sound and began to move forward onto the road, right where John was standing.

He yelled and flung himself out of the way... but the other box things didn't hit him. They, quite literally, passed through him, and John caught a whiff of smoke.

He coughed and stood up, over to the white road where there were only people and no box things.

Soon after, they all stopped again, and John squinted when he saw a familiar face inside the red one.

He gasped.

It seemed like a younger Katherine, but he couldn't tell. She looked extremely similar to the Katherine he met up with at the coffee shop. He walked up to the look-alike and smiled.

She ignored him.

Maybe it's because she's wearing that cloak.

The loud rattling sounds started up again and John scurried back onto the sidewalk. He couldn't take any chances.

He saw a man on the sidewalk next to him.

John's mind jumped to Death: the other man was tall, with a skeletal figure, and completely clad in black.

Except... he had a beard.

The man looked at him. His face was worn, and his eyes looked weathered, like he'd gone through hell to get where he would be.

"Hello, young man." The voice was deep and sad, like the lowest notes on a piano.

Strangely, John felt inferior to him, even though the man's nature suggested nothing of the sort. He took a step back. "Hello, sir."

Something was nagging at him. He knew this man from somewhere.

"What's your name?"

"John Laurens, sir."

"Please, call me Abraham."

Something still wasn't right. The man's clothes didn't look like they fit the world John was in now or the world he knew.

"Abraham...?"

"Lincoln."

The name held a gentle, fatherly power, and he wondered who this man was. He of course didn't know anyone named Lincoln.

"I can sense that you have been struggling at something with your life, John. Tell me, what was that?"

Was? Did Lincoln know him?

"To—to free the slaves, Mr. Lincoln." He took half a step closer and stood in Lincoln's tall shadow.

Silence, except for the (many) boxes moving by.

"Quite the ambition, John."

Mr. Lincoln wished him well, and started to walk away.

It came to John, who he was.

John gasped. "Sir—!"

"The back of my head, I presume? Oh, yes, the wound's still there. Quite fresh, but healing."

"Yes, Mr. Lincoln, but... there's..."

A boy much younger than John was tugging on the old man's coattails. He was about twelve.

The boy was screaming, but Mr. Lincoln appeared not to have heard him.

"There's a little boy on your coat, sir."

The man froze.

Right at that moment, a woman walked out of the trees to his left. She was holding a handkerchief, sobbing, and went to grasp Mr. Lincoln's hand.

"A woman on your left, sir," John mumbled.

The wound on the back of Lincoln's head shrunk slightly.

The sounds around him seemed to lower in volume.

"He's around twelve or thirteen, sir. Er, he's screaming." John approached Lincoln again.

"PAPA!" The boy screamed. He looked close to falling on the ground. He had started coughing and he was pulling on the man's sleeves.

Nothing happened for five minutes. 

Slowly, Abraham's head turned to the right.

"Willie!" The man picked up the now unconscious boy and gathered him in his arms. The woman let out a sob and followed suit, rushing forward to embrace her husband.

Then... they vanished.

John gaped at the now empty spot on the sidewalk.