A/N: I have no idea what I am doing, so I am really sorry if this sucks ^^'

Thomas Jefferson woke up with his head rested on a desk -the only lighting in the room being a small candle on the desk- fully dressed. He wondered for a few seconds how that came to be, he could have sworn he went to bed the day before. He looked out of the window and saw that it was still dark outside, the full moon still hanging in the sky. He felt tired and his muscles were all sore and stiff from sleeping in the chair, but Thomas felt strangely rested. He sleepily rubbed eyes and looked down at some of the papers on the desk.

Strange, he thought and picked one up. They all seemed to be Hamilton's handwriting. Why would they be on Thomas's desk? Then Thomas noticed his hand holding the paper. It wasn't his hand. Instead of his usual darker tone he was a pale, almost completely white color. Thomas stared at the hand for a while, before dropping the paper in horror. He reached out for his cane at the side of the table. But it wasn't there. Thomas looked panicked around for it. He couldn't walk -sometimes even stand- without it. But it was nowhere to be seen. Thomas thought for a bit and then stood up. He stared in bewilderment. I can stand!? he thought and walked around a bit. His leg felt fine, and he started to pick up speed until he was sprinting around the room starting to laugh loudly. He caught a look at himself in the window, and saw a reflection of his silhouette in the glass. His eyes widened.