Fic: Take the Shot!

I mentioned the Aaron Burr: The Winter Soldier idea on the Pitch Wars group, and got poked to do something about it. I don't think I have enough background in US history to pull it off as a full piece, but I can manage a vignette.

Take The Shot!

Driven to rebuild his reputation, Aaron Burr refuses to die, preserved only by his cold fury at the injustice that was Alexander Hamilton. Yet no matter how often he takes his shot, his determination to serve his country always seems to go so wrong.

April 1865 Ford’s Theater, Washington, DC

“Move! Move! Move, man! Pinkertons coming through!”

The corridor in Ford’s Theatre was clogged with people. I grabbed one.

“Pinkertons! Where’s the President’s box, there’s an assassin! Hurry man!”

He raised a shaking hand, pointing straight through the wall.

“On the far side!”

I shared a horrified look with Hector Banks, my second in this. We were on the wrong side of the theatre, and Booth would not have made that mistake.

I grabbed the door to the nearest box and flung it open. I could see straight across to the president’s box and we were too late. John Wilkes Booth was there, stabbing the president’s military aide even as I watched, the President turning towards him.

“Take the shot!” Hector yelled from behind me. He carried a double barrelled .32 Derringer, concealable, but useless at a distance. I, by contrast, carried a Wogdon single-barrelled duelling pistol, a gentleman’s weapon. I raised it, taking careful aim at Booth as he raised his pistol.

“Take the shot, Aaron!” Hector screamed into my ear, and my finger twitched against the set trigger. Across the theatre Lincoln jerked and slumped, Booth staring at him in surprise.

No. Not Again. I am truly Dame Fortuna’s dog.

My name is Aaron Burr, despised e’er since I killed Alexander Hamilton in a duel. And tonight I have killed our president.