Chapter 12

"Mr Madison."

"Mr Hamilton, right when we were starting to believe that you wouldn't create other problems, here you are again."

"It's always a pleasure to be your worst nightmare." Hamilton grinned at the sickly man in front of him, before turning to the taller one. "Mr Jefferson."

"Mr Secretary," Thomas looked at him snobbishly. "I was almost hoping you were too busy playing with your banks to come and vex the grown-ups," he sneered.

Alexander's jaw dropped – so that's how this is gonna work, Jefferson? Great. "Well, Mr Secretary," he mocked, "I would love to take a break from you two, except for the fact that without me and my little 'toy' banks you old scumbags would be debt-ridden, whining in the middle of utter anarchy, so..." he shrugged, "you're welcome, I guess," and entered the room without waiting for an answer.

Thomas hid a conspiratorial smile and followed him inside, holding the door open for James and casting a look around the room, where the other Cabinet members were already taking their seats at the meeting table. Hamilton went sitting right next to Washington, while Jefferson and Madison found their place on the opposite side of the room – they would still be able to hear Hamilton from over there, since he usually shouted every word for the whole building to hear. After a couple of minutes, Washington stood up and the room went silent at once.

"Today's meeting has been called in order to discuss our Secretary of Treasury's plan for industrialization," he turned to Hamilton, who sprang up from his seat. "Secretary Hamilton, you have the floor."

Alexander quickly arranged his papers, smiling cleverly at his audience, before fixing his gaze on Jefferson. "Let's talk about the future of the States' manufacturing," he began in a challenging voice.

As expected, everyone within the building – and probably outside it as well – had been able to follow Hamilton's and Jefferson's debate going on in the Cabinet room.

"The farmers, not the market, are the future of the States!"

"Aren't they subject to the market as everyone else? And who's appointed you as farmer representative, you high-class fancy ass?"

"Who are you planning to cheer for when the struggle between the manufacturers and the employees will break out? We knew you were an Anglophile, but to this length!"

"And, tell us, Jefferson, how long are you still planning to live in Fairyland? We're trying to run a real nation here, you moron!"

When Washington's calm voice eventually put an end to their quarrel, everyone in half a mile range breathed a sigh of relief. Cabinet members started to pour out of the room as fast as they could – no one wanted to be around to witness the follow-up discussion, since the two Secretaries often brought their arguments out with them, continuing to dispute on the street right in front of the building.

Fortunately, Hamilton had to remain inside to draw up the details of the manufacturing plan, while Jefferson and Madison slowly walked outside.

"How did he succeed in convincing the Cabinet, again?" Jefferson's feeling toward Alexander were a confused mixture of disbelief, annoyance and pride.

"It must be nice to have Washington on your side," James glanced at him with a you-know-what-I-mean look on his face and began to walk towards the carriage.

"Can you wait a minute? I need to fetch some documents from my office to work on them at home."

James nodded and entered the carriage, while Thomas turned around and headed straight to Hamilton's office. He peeked inside – he was alone, good – and entered, carefully closing the door behind him.

"Jefferson, what do you think you're d–

Thomas brought one finger to his lips, shushing him quietly before locking the door. He moved closer, approaching him with two long strides, and stood there for some moments, watching him oddly.

"I don't know if you're here to kiss me or murder me," Alexander whispered, terribly amused by Thomas's look.

"I haven't decided yet."

"Well, in case you wanted to do both, I suggest you to kiss me first – that would also be my last wish," he squinted at him in a flirtatious way.

"Cute," Thomas smirked. "What did you do with the awful Secretary of Treasury I was talking to just some minutes ago?"

"Hey, you started it! I was about to behave like a perfect gentleman, when you addressed me using such childish terms!"

"When have you ever behaved like a gentleman?" Thomas scoffed him, while surrounding his shorter figure in his arms, "I've just decided I'm not gonna kiss you."

"Do I have to call for help?"

"Ha-ha. I'm actually planning to convince you to come to my place later. The kiss will be your prize."

"What about one now and many other later?"

"Wow – aren't we greedy?" Thomas leered at him with his night-time eyes for some moments, relishing Alexander's yearning gaze, and then bent down a little to press his lips on his enemy's.

"See you later, you crazy little thing."

"See ya, loser," Alexander cheerily waved him goodbye, while Thomas slipped out of the room and pranced all the way back to Madison.

***

Dear Mr Secretary, due to an unexpected event I'm afraid we have to postpone out meeting to a later date. A. Ham.

Thomas read the note grimly before going back to his book. He was sitting in his favourite spot in the library, right before the warming fireplace that provided him with heat and enough light to read at night. He sighed while his eyes went through the same line for the third time, without recording a single word – he'd been planning to spend the night in a more enjoyable way, but then he'd received that short note and had retired in the library, wondering what had possibly happened to prevent Alexander for coming there. He stood up and reached for his violin and Vivaldi's score from "La Stravaganza", tuned the instrument carefully, and finally started playing one of the most passionate violin pieces by the Italian composer, the Concerto No. 4 in A minor, the notes reminding him of a long-awaited kiss.

When he finally went to bed it was late at night, he'd fallen asleep in the library until the fire had extinguished and he'd waken up cold and dizzy. He reluctantly dragged himself upstairs to his bedroom and was fast asleep in less than a minute.

The room was hot and sticky, the last weeks had been very warm and the coolness of the previous night had already faded, leaving the sick, bed-ridden woman covered with sweat. The candles were all burnt out, and a dim light came from the window – the milky sky slightly covered by a thin layer of fog. Thomas was holding his wife's weak hand, sobbing quietly and muttering unintelligible words to himself. A black woman was gently wiping the sweat from Martha's forehead with a wet cloth, whispering to her ear in a reassuring voice. Thomas could feel Martha's hand shivering, hot with fever – his wife had been slipping in and out of an unconscious state for the whole night and was now panting, her eyes wide open with pain.

"Thomas," her feeble voice called him.

"Yes, my love, I'm here," Thomas broken voice promptly comforted her.

"Promise – promise me you won't marry again," she breathed hard, "I don't want our children to be raised by a stepmother, please Thomas, promise me..."

"Martha please, don't give up," Thomas was sobbing again, "please, sweetheart, don't –

"Our little John is too sensible to grow up with another mother, and Mary would hate it," a fit of coughs left her even weaker, unable to end her speech.

Thomas was shocked by her words – he didn't remind her that their John had died several years before. It seemed as if the gravity of her conditions suddenly him, at last.

"I promise, love, I won't marry nor love anyone else, ever again," Thomas's voice failed him for a moment, "how can I go on without you, Martha, please, don't leave me, please!"

He repeated those words like a mantra, squeezing her hand and crying, he repeated them until his throat was so sore he couldn't speak anymore. He knew there were other people in the room with them now, softly shaking him or trying to take him away from Martha's body, but he wouldn't move.

"Thomas," James's voice echoed in his ears, "Thomas, please, she's gone, come with me, Thomas –

"Thomas."

Jefferson woke up in a start, completely covered in sweat. He looked around in the dark room, his heart was beating so hard in his chest it seemed to be trying to escape from his body. Then, a cold hand grabbed his arm and he jumped so violently he found himself to the other end of the bed.

"Shit Thomas, it's me! Alexander!"

"What the fuck are you doin' here in the middle of the night?" Thomas was still too scared to be nice with him.

"I promised you I would come, and here I am." Hamilton approached him slowly, his hands raised above his head as if to calm a feral animal. "And it looks like I came right on time... I'm sorry I woke you up, but you were having a nightmare and I can't stand seeing you cry."

Thomas brought a hand to his face – it was wet with tears.

"Don't worry, I'm better now." He quickly wiped the tears away. "How did you come in anyway?"

"Oh, I stole your keys last night," he shrugged nonchalantly and climbed on the bed. "Can I stay for a while? I have to go away before dawn, Eliza thinks I'm working in my study."

Thomas shifted to the side to make some room for Alexander, pulling him into his arms as soon as he lied next to him. They stood like that for a while and Thomas started to relax again.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Not really."

"That's ok."

Another quiet moment followed, Thomas happily hiding his face into Alexander's hair.

"Alexander?"

"Mmh?"

"Why didn't you come tonight?"

"But I'm here," Alexander sleepy voice was barely audible.

"You know, before."

"T'was my son's birthday – James's"

"I see."

"I forgot."

"Well, you're here now." Thomas kissed his forehead and sighed. "Thank you for waking me up."

"You're welcome," Alex drowsily continued, "I have a lot of nightmares too."

"Do you want to talk about them?"

"Not really."

Thomas chuckled lightly and closed his eyes. Alexander was there with him and his usually cold, empty bed felt like the best place in the whole world. Feeling Alexander's warm body pressed to his own and adjusting his breath to Alexander's, he eventually relaxed and slipped in a more peaceful, dreamless sleep.

The following morning he woke up in an empty bed. The sun was already raising, painting the sky with pink and orange strokes and casting his bright and warm rays right on his face. Thomas searched the room with his gaze, looking for something to confirm that last night hadn't been a dream. Alexander wasn't there, but then he noticed a small scrap of paper on the pillow.

You're way better when you're asleep. See you soon.

He got up, feeling rested and active, and went to the kitchen to cook some waffles, just in case Alexander decided to drop by.

***

Notes:

Vivaldi's "La Stravaganza": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QUxL9yhsRM [from 6.13]