Everything was a blur.

He remembered George Eacker talking shit about his father.

He remembered challenging him to a duel, despite John's protests.

"Phil, this is a bad idea. Don't go. I bet your father would say the same, too."

He remembered John chastising him on how it wasn't safe, about how Alexander would say the same.

He remembered his father talking to him.
"When the time comes, fire your weapon in the air. This will put an end to the whole affair."

"Take my guns. Make me proud, son."

John and Philip made their way to Weehawken, New Jersey. Philip
seemed smug, while the spirit
seemed to be a little peeved that Alexander didn't respond the way he expected a father would.

His name was Philip,
He was a poet
He was a little nervous but he couldn't show it.
He was a Hamilton with pride.
Talk about his father,
He could not let it slide.

Even before the count of ten, he aimed for the sky.

Look him in the eye, aim no higher, summon all the courage you require, then count:

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

He heard John scream "PHILIP NO!"

He turned and saw Eacker shoot.

He heard a gunshot.

And everything

went

b l a c k.

A/N
Hi! This is my first fanfiction, and I'm not sure if I'll continue this or not. Let me know in the comments! Critiques are welcome, and updates will be sporadic, because of school and all that jazz. I'll make a decent cover eventually. Thanks for reading!
~Andrea