I am so, so sorry for not updating for three months, there's college apps, music concerts, and tests aghhhh.

I encourage you to read the long paragraphs in Katherine's conversation with Eliza. Please. When the star/asterisk begins like "*", that's where it starts. It ends when there's another *.

"Ah," I mumbled, scanning the paper. "That's... er... Let's talk about that conclusion... what should I write, Alexander?"

"I trust you've been keeping secrets from me?"

"Why would I?" Instantly I started to roll on the balls of my feet, back and forth, clasping my hands in front of me. I'm lying to Alexander Hamilton... oh god.

"What about John?"

"What about him?" I was genuinely curious now. 

"What did you tell John that night?"

"Oh, that was, um, nothing important, really. Actually, we just got into a fight over a coin--"

"Oh no, no, I heard you loud and clear at the Winter's Ball. I speak about when you went out into the garden." His voice was dangerously calm.

"We--I, um..."

"I suppose you two spent hours in there, stripping down to--"

"What? No! No, never. I don't—didn't like him in that way, what are you talking about...?"

"You should know by now that he was not just all for the taking."

"Honestly, Alex, I didn't like him like that. Romantically, I mean. Can't you just trust me on this? You're being paranoid... completely out of context..."

"What did you tell John that night? I wrote letters to him, whereas you've only met him for a few years, and by the way, I saw how you looked when I walked into the coffee shop that day--it looked like you were watching him suspiciously, as if trying to analyze his behavior. I could say that when you walked into the garden you were telling John about some sort of secret operation that you were a part of--oh, the name Fleming sounds quite German, isn't it, you spy?" He almost looked beside himself.

I tried to say something calm, something rational, but he was jumping to conclusions.

In a fit of anger, I slammed my fist on the balcony railing.

"I told him about where I came from, alright?!"

He leered. "Well, where you came from, that could be quite obviou--"

"I AM NOT A SPY! I don't even speak German!" My hands were scraping the balcony railing, and my nails dug into it in fury. "My god, can't you just... stop jumping to conclusions? Talk less! I mean, we--" I laughed bitterly here. "We literally went from a school essay to you accusing me of being a spy. How do you not get it? How do you not get the fact that sometimes the things you say can actually hurt some people? Tell me, what... what the hell do you think I would do to you to make you think I was a spy, Hamilton?"

I glared at him one last time and stalked back into the house. "No point in arriving here, this place is horrible," I muttered, loud enough for him to hear. 

***

"Why did you come to us?" Eliza took a sip of her tea ten minutes after the fight with Alexander.

"I actually wanted to try to get into college here. Ever since the war was over I've had nothing to do, and no job to hold to pay back your father."

"You want to get into King's College?"

"I don't suppose I'll make it in. People with... top-notch brains go there."

"Well, Alexander might--"

"I'm not talking to Alexander. I won't."

She sighed and set down her now-empty teacup, like she was resigned to hear about the fights he got into. "What did he say this time?"

"He thought I was a German spy." I paused, inhaling sharply. "Well, I'll have him read that book I gave him, and--actually, he can read The Book Thief to his heart's content, and he'd figure out that I'm not a spy, Eliza, I'm really, really not...!" I gripped my coffee cup and the liquid sloshed around in it.

"I'm sorry. He tends to assume these things. You didn't seem to have a German accent at all. It sounded more like a twisted version of ours. He's been out of sorts ever since John died... I wouldn't blame him. Such a nice man..."

I swallowed the rest of my coffee. "Considering the fact that I told John where I came from the last time we met, I'm actually having second thoughts about applying. Especially after the conversation with Alexander."

Eliza raised an eyebrow. "If you didn't want to talk about Alexander when you sat down with me, why on earth would you bring him up again?"

"Second thoughts, Eliza." I stared around the house. "I can't learn anything here, because the truth is, I don't think the people ever forgot the year I came here, dressed like I would be in my time."

"I'm sorry?"

"I can't tell Alexander where I came from, because he would yell it to the world. As if I'm already not seen as insane," I added bitterly. "I can tell this to you and trust that you won't tell it to Alexander."

"I won't."

"Well... I'm from the future," I say blatantly. "Which means we have more advanced... um, everything."

Eliza stared at me, not saying a word. 

"More advanced... medical technology. Er... in my time, people don't scream in surgery. They simply fall asleep."

"They die?" Eliza was surprised. 

"No, literally, they fall asleep. Back at the camp, the surgeons used alcohol to numb the wound, yes?"

Eliza had heard of this from Angelica. "Yes, that's quite right. It was used as an anesthetic."

"In our time, we use something much stronger than alcohol. I don't exactly know what goes into our anesthetic, but doctors push a needle into your arm, and you fall asleep. You don't feel anything during the surgery. You wake up a little funny afterwards, but in a few days you're fine." 

"Whereas here--with alcohol, patients normally wake up with a headache, and the nurses have to do extra work." 

"That's not necessary in our time. No headaches, no pain. You just have to pay a lot of money afterwards, which is bad." 

"Well!" Eliza had to take a few seconds to grasp the concept. "That's quite extraordinary."

"There's more. Women can be anything--anything! They're doctors, business executives, professors, actresses, mathematicians, lawyers..."

"Here, there's nothing of the sort," Eliza mused. "Should I tell Angelica and Peggy?"

"No, don't."

"But why not? This could change the way they look out on the world today. Do we realize that this could--"

"Don't do it, Eliza. Please. It will change history. I'm not supposed to be here, anyway."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm being honest. And... it's not always happy. Sometimes, things happen and lead the way into a downward spiral of hate."

"Hate?" Eliza asked curiously. 

*"Well, the thing is... no one can say it's really hate, without justifying their point. And even then, there will always, always, be someone around to argue with this point you make. In my time, you can't even state your own opinion without being--to a certain extent--brought down by someone else's opinion. It's all a big, petty competition. There is no such thing as a common belief among a nation, much less the entire world. Therefore, there are gigantic debates among nations and that leads to war. And that's happened. Twice.

"Things sometimes escalate into something entirely new, and sometimes they just die down  and the causes are blamed on other people and other groups, and people die, Eliza. That's what history is--it's facts about aggression and perspectives copied onto paper, and very little times there's a brief paragraph or a mention of something good in an essay or a book. But it always turns into something horrible. Say, there's a person who believes he's doing the utmost good for his country, but hates other countries. He spreads the word and it's the talk of the nation. Almost everyone loves his idea. 

"The people who don't... they're killed--millions of them. Or they run away, simply because they are not accepted into society. Another country has different ideas on how to get rid of them, and thus, they are captured by the former country. In the end, many people see this man as the devil.

"Or, let's take the example that in the future, a war has ended, and people are celebrating. This is good for this country, isn't it? They do not doubt anything as they dance; the economy is booming... and then it all comes crashing down one night. Thousands are left without a job. Breadlines are created. It's like nothing the world has ever seen, and it just slaps everyone in the face. The country in question, really, is not the same again."*

At this point I was standing up, and I sat back down in defeat, putting my head in between my hands. I looked up and saw Eliza's face--drawn in surprise, uncertainty, and despair. "I... I cannot listen to any more of this."

"Good." 

She looked up, and I shook my head. "I can't actually learn anything from here if I get back. Some people will believe me, and many won't, no matter what I say to them. Debates. No common belief. Don't tell anyone here about me, especially Angelica and Peggy; the same rule applies--possibly they won't believe me, but they won't get the chance to believe me or not, if you don't tell them. Let it go. Forget it. It's done."

Eliza nodded slowly, crossed the room to the stairs, and went into Philip's room. 

I groaned, and leaned back against the couch, closing my eyes and thinking about what I had just said. 

Upstairs, Alexander quietly shut the door to his study.

He sat down at his desk shakily, taking note of the parchment around his bed.

Quietly he picked up another.

Hunching over his desk, he started to write.

*deep breath* Oh god.

That was risky. What do you think? Any and all comments are appreciated.