2 Samuel Seabury

Title: A Little Crush

OC: Alia Hemmington

Ship name: Salia

Notes: We follow Seabury's little 'Farmer Refuted' speech and his run-in with a girl from his childhood who has a crush on him. 1700th century.

[SEABURY POV]

Okay, you got this, you got this...one foot forward, then the other....

I was nervous. I, Samuel Seabury, was the king's messenger to somehow keep the colonists quiet. He'd had me write a speech, practice it over and over again, learn to keep my quiver of nervousness out of my voice.

"You have to be taken seriously, Samuel!" he told me every time.

But nothing I had done could possibly prepare me for what I was about to face.

I had come to New York City first, one of the pivotal places for the colonists' so-called 'Revolution'. I thought it might be safer than, say, Boston.

But already I'd gotten glares and angry hollering thrown at me, not to mention a few pieces of nasty, rotten fruit. I doubted my armed escort of British soldiers was helping me with that little problem.

I glanced down and tried not to look like a threat.

My escort dropped off a short ways away from the humble abode I had taken up residence in. It was nothing much, but it was enough.

I slipped inside and prepared myself, practicing a few more times before I would have to head to the preordained place where I would give my speech.

Nervous fear found its way into my stomach again an hour later as I set off, once again followed by British soldiers, to the square.

[ALIA POV]

One of my Loyalist friends was chatting excitedly about the speaker who had come to make his speech for the king about the 'Patriots' in the colonies, who were screaming for war with Great Britain. Of course, I being mostly neutral myself, was only half-listening.

"Isn't that great, Alia!? Alia? Alia? Do you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah...that's great...," I said, but my attention was caught by the sudden entry of the redcoats, who were following a thin (and kinda cute) man in black bishop's robes.

My Loyalist friend, Sarah, grabbed my arm excitedly, practically squealing. "OHHHH, look! I think that's him, the speaker!"

"The one you were just talking about?"

"YES!" she cried, pulling me over to the raised stage in the square. "COME ON, COME ON! We've got to watch!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure...," I said, still in a daze.

"He's kinda cute, isn't he?" Sarah giggled.

I was scrutinizing him. "Yeah... WAIT. Is that...Samuel Seabury?"

"What, your church's bishop?" Sarah asked.

I nodded vigorously. "Yeah! I heard from Mama he became bishop shortly after I moved with Papa and Anthony to New York!"

I had left Connecticut nearly six years ago when I was nine after my brother Anthony and I had gotten sick and we needed treatment. My mother had stayed home with the rest of the family brood—my three little sisters and one little brother—but my father had taken us to New York. But we couldn't move back to Connecticut, as we both needed monthly treatments to keep the illness—a rare one that came back quickly—away.

At the time, I'd been heartbroken, as I had had a little bit of a crush on the young Samuel Seabury.

Seeing him now—for it was surely him—I realized that little crush might not have gone away after all.

Though he already had most of the square's attention, Samuel cleared his throat, then flushed, probably realizing it was unnecessary.

"Hear ye, hear ye! My name is Samuel Seabury!" he began.

[SEABURY POV]

I looked out over the sea of people and cleared my throat. Then I realized it was completely unnecessary, as I had most of the square's attention, and my face burned with embarrassment.

Good job, mess up already...

"Hear ye, hear ye! My name is Samuel Seabury!" I began. "And I present free thoughts of the proceedings of the Continental Congress... Heed not the rabble who scream, 'Revolution!' They have not your interests at heart."

There was a muttered, "Oh my God, tear this dude apart..."

Well, at least I knew there were some Patriots in the midst.

"Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution, don't let them lead you astray. This 'Congress' does not speak for me."

"Let him be!" someone sighed, though they sounded half-hearted. It was to my right.

"They're playing a dangerous game. I pray the king shows you his mercy. For shame, for shame...," I said and some Loyalists started to smile.

Then I realized someone was climbing onto the raised platform on my right. I turned and bit back my frustration as I saw the red hair and threadbare clothes. This was, undoubtedly, Alexander Hamilton.

So I started again, but at the same time, Hamilton started going, grating on my nerves.

"Heed not the rabble who scream, 'Revolution!' They have not your interests at heart—"

"He'd have you all unravel at the sound of screams but the Revolution is coming. The have-nots are gonna win this!" He paused to take a breath and wore a smirk. "It's hard to listen to you with a straight face...."

"Hm, tsk." And I kept going: "Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution!"

"Chaos and bloodshed already haunt us. Honestly, you shouldn't even talk."

"Don't let them lead you astray. This 'Congress' does not speak for me."

"And what about Boston? Look at the cost and all that we've lost and you talk about Congress!? MY DOG SPEAKS MORE ELOQUENTLY."

I grit my teeth. "They're playing a dangerous game..."

"But strangely your mange is the same!"

I glared at him, teeth grit and nose twitching, "I pray the king shows you his mercy!"

"Is he in Jersey?" Hamilton asked, trying for an innocent voice.

"FOR SHAME!"

"For the Revolution!"

"FOR SHAAAAAAAMEEE!"

"FOR THE REVOLUTION!" Hamilton and the Patriots in the crowd shouted, gaining looks of disgust from the Loyalists in the crowd. One girl stood next to her Loyalist friend who was glaring at Hamilton and giving me encouraging looks. The girl next to that Loyalist looked between me and Hamilton nervously, as if wondering who would get hurt first.

I decided to keep going, but Hamilton made that more difficult.

"Heed—"

"If you repeat yourself again I'm gonna scream!"

"Scream—!"

"Honestly, look at me. Please don't read."

My voice was suddenly deeper. "Not your interests—"

"Don't modulate the key than not debate with me!" Hamilton burst out, drawing a laugh from three of his little Patriot friends. "Why should a tiny island across the sea regulate the price of tea!?"

Suddenly another man was there, placing a hand on Hamilton's arm. "Alexander, please—"

"Burr, I'd rather be divisive than indecisive. Drop the niceties!"

And all of a sudden, there was a British embassy amongst the soldiers, fighting through the crowd to get to the front. "SILENCE! A message from the king! A message from the king! A message from the KIIING!"

Hamilton and his friend, What's His Face Burr, made themselves scarce and many other Patriots in the crowd looked uncomfortable. I, personally, would have loved to have heard the king's message. But I hurried off as quickly as possible, angry at Hamilton's intrusion.

Oh, why did he have to live in New York?

[ALIA POV]

I saw Samuel Seabury hurry off and I ran after him, leaving Sarah behind. I wanted to talk to Samuel, tell him I felt bad about what Hamilton had done, tell him I'd missed home. Maybe if I was brave enough, tell him I'd missed him.

"Samuel! Samuel! Wait!" I called, grabbing onto his sleeve.

He stopped and turned. "Yes?"

I took in a few deep breaths and was about to speak when Samuel gasped.

"Alia? Alia Hemmington?" he gasped.

I smiled. "Hello, Samuel."

He surprised me by enveloping me in a hug. "Oh! You're still here! There were rumors you'd died! Or, or, or gone to England!"

I smiled as I hugged him back. "Oh, no. I'm still here."

He was grinning when we split apart. "It's so good to see you!"

My smile was just as broad as his. "You too, Samuel. How's Mama?"

"Your mother is great. She is in good health and handling well. Especially now that your father came back...what was it, three months ago?"

I nodded. "Yes. Anthony and I have been handling pretty well ourselves. Anthony has a job as a carpenter part-time but is working to become a priest."

Samuel brightened, if possible. "Really?"

I nodded. "Mama's letter about your sermons inspired him," I said with a cheeky grin.

Samuel blushed a deep merlot. "Oh, I'm flattered!"

I decided to be bold and hugged him tightly again. "Oh, I missed you, Samuel."

To my surprise, he leaned into my hug. "I missed you, too, Alia. It wasn't the same after you left. I was afraid for you for the longest time...I prayed every night."

"Well, it's a good thing you did," I said softly. "I almost died halfway through the first surgical treatment for the illness."

Samuel pulled back abruptly, shocked. "Really!?"

I nodded.

He hugged me fiercely. "I'm so glad you didn't...I wouldn't be able to live with it..."

"Yeah. Me neither," I joked with another cheeky grin, waiting for Samuel to catch on. It took him a moment, but he laughed when he did.

"Care to join me for tea?"

"Oh, I'd love to," I said warmly. Samuel offered his arm and we strolled off together, my heart pounding.

Oh, yes, I still had a crush on Samuel Seabury.

[SEABURY POV]

We were both laughing. Alia had stayed even after tea, just talking with me. I realized just how much I'd missed her then. Seeing her now and getting the chance to talk to her filled that hole that had been in my heart since she'd left Connecticut for New York for her treatments with her brother.

And, goodness, was she gorgeous.

Alia Hemmington had always been a pretty girl. But now she was a complete knock-out, taking my breath away and making my heart beat a thousand times faster than normal. I got tongue-tied whenever I looked too long into those deep, gorgeous hazel eyes.

I'M SMITTEN, my mind and heart told me.

"Alia," I said before I could stop myself. "I...I know this will sound REALLY cliche, but...I...I think...no, I know...I'm in love with you."

She blushed. "Er, now that you've admitted...it might be a good time to tell you I've had a crush on you...since we were eight. And I still do."

Relief coursed over me. "Really? You aren't joking? Not teasing?"

"I'm not joking. I'm not teasing. I'm serious."

Slowly, I leaned forward and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Oh, Samuel, really?" she laughed, giving me a look.

I blushed and consented to press a kiss to her lips.

"That's better...," she murmured after I pulled back. Then she leaned forward and pulled me back into another one. This one was longer and passionate, and her soft lips made my heart quiver.

[ALIA POV]

"I love you, Samuel Seabury," I sighed happily after pulling away.

"I love you more, Alia Hemmington," he said with a smile.