Chapter 11

Thomas was going mad. It had been three weeks and he hadn't heard from Alexander at all. Fortunately, winter was almost over and so he'd spent most of the time outside, riding or walking around with James. Unfortunately, they'd frequently met Aaron Burr, who was always very happy to join them. One of those unlucky days, Thomas and James were walking their usual path in the park, when they saw the senator candidate running towards them with a wicked smile and a bunch of documents in his hand.

"Mr Secretary, Mr Madison, good day," he panted. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but you really need to see this." He gave the papers to Madison, who quickly scanned the pages with his sharp eyes, his gaze more and more amazed at every page.

"Let's go," he spoke excitedly to Thomas, who was looking distractedly at the naked trees of the park, thinking about how beautiful the sound of the rain was, "we need to go home right now, we finally have something to end Hamilton's career once and for all!"

Half an hour later they were at Madison's, discussing the shocking content of the documents. Thomas, who'd gained all his vitality and concentration back when he'd heard Hamilton's name, was now pacing back and forth next to the table where all the papers were scattered. He simply couldn't believe it – Hamilton was not a fraud. Thomas hadn't told his allies about Hamilton's affair with James Reynolds yet. He didn't want to, but what if the accusations were true? Had Hamilton been using the Government's money to pay that wicked woman and her dirty husband? No – that wasn't the Alexander he knew, that wasn't his Alexander. But again, how much he still didn't know about Hamilton?

"So, we know for sure that Hamilton is paying huge sums of money to Mr James Reynolds, should we dig deeper and find out why?" Burr asked in an excited voice, "or at least try and talk to Reynolds himself?"

"I don't think so," Thomas replied quickly – he was actually dying to talk with James Reynolds alone, and maybe beat the shit out of him. "He could alert Hamilton so that he'll find a way to cover his tracks – no, we need to catch him unawares."

"That's right," Madison agreed with him. "Sadly, we can't do anything right now since Hamilton's got Washington on his side. Maybe," he paused a moment, planning his strategy, "we should keep this information for ourselves – just for now – and see how it goes. Timing is everything!"

"Agreed." Thomas was immensely relieved. "We'll use it when it'll damage Hamilton the most" – and maybe he would've had the time to talk to Alexander by then.

"Yes," Burr nodded in agreement, "that's our best shot."

"Well, I could keep the documents at my house, I've got a safe where to hide them –

"No need for it Thomas, we'll keep them here. I doubt that any thief would come and steal some valueless papers, and here's safer since Hamilton doesn't come to my house shouting at me every week," James joked, while Burr listened carefully.

"Yeah, right – well, fortunately, he doesn't come every week at my house to act as a madman, it only happened twice," Thomas forced himself to laugh, pouring salt into his own wound – shit, he would want Hamilton with him every single day, if that were even a possibility – "and twice is more than enough for me!"

***

Another long week passed by. Thomas was really considering the prospect of going at Hamilton's, but – unlike Alexander – he was not the kind of person who commonly burst into other people's houses. Then, one cloudy evening, he heard someone forcefully knocking at his door – no one with a sense of courtesy would ever knock at someone's door so insistently. He rushed to the front door, almost crashing into his maid – he'd completely forgotten that there were other people in the house – and opened it at once. Alexander was already stepping in, when he suddenly realised that the tall figure in front of him was not the usual housemaid, and stopped harshly.

"Did you give the night off to your staff?" Alexander joked, looking at him with a surprised face.

Thomas, however, didn't laugh. He stared at Hamilton with a very odd look, scanning him with a suspecting gaze and stepping aside to let him in. He closed the door and leaned against it, trying to concentrate – he needed some privacy to talk with Hamilton, and, more importantly, he absolutely had to sort his feelings out in order to be impartial.

"Tell the others to take the night off," he stiffly spatted at the maid, who bowed a very deep bow and went away in a blink, as if she was afraid that he would change his mind before letting her go away.

"Wow, Jefferson – I was joking," Alexander began to say, terribly amused by the show, "but I suppose you won't die if they don't spoon-feed you for once."

"Have you dined yet?" Thomas asked, too absent-minded to laugh at his joke – again.

"Not yet."

"Stay, would you?"

"What are you cooking?"

"Fricassee," answered Thomas, who was already heading to the kitchen, without waiting for his answer.

"Well, I'll stay – if you were even wondering," Hamilton muttered to himself, throwing his coat on a couch and following him into the room.

The fireplace was lit, the fire was heating and cheering the small room, and Thomas took a couple of burning logs from there to heat the wood stove faster. Then, he disappeared into an adjoining room to re-emerge with a bottle of wine and two elegant glasses; he poured the expensive red wine, looking askance at Alexander. Was he really the kind of man able use the Government's money for his own personal purposes? He couldn't stop thinking about Burr's latest discovery. He was so lost in his own thoughts he almost forgot the reason why Alexander had come; but then, out of the blue, Thomas remembered about Alex's promise, about their kiss –

"Wait a minute," he said, suddenly anxious. "Do we actually have something to toast to?" he asked hesitantly, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer.

"Well, I was going to tell you, but since you're acting very weird I think I wanna know your thoughts first," Alexander was cautious – had Thomas changed his mind?

"Oh wow, so now I'm weird," Thomas was shocked. "I have just two words for you, Alexander: one fucking month!"

"That's three words!"

"Fuck you," Thomas was really getting mad now. "That's one month. Four bloody weeks. What did you have to think about that took you so long?"

"I had some things I must do before coming here, Thomas. I –" he took a deep breath, "I'm sorry. Truly."

Thomas was not completely calm yet, and so he silently turned away from him and started chopping the onions and carrots. It was not an everyday thing to hear Hamilton's apologies, but his words wouldn't delete the silence of the past days. He put all the ingredients in the pot and only then turned again to look at Alexander. Cooking had always been a medicine for him, the attention he needed to pick all the ingredients and the care to prepare his complex dishes had always soothed his restless mind.

"Like what?" He asked in a very composed voice. "What did you have to do before coming here?"

"That's not your business, Thomas – look, do you still want an answer or not?" Alexander was starting to feel uncomfortable and nervous, "cause if you've changed your mind I'd better go home right now."

"Alexander," Thomas was so confused, they needed to talk things over right now, "I could never change my mind about what I said to you last time –

"Well, you don't look very happy to have me around now," Alex interrupted accusingly, a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes.

"If you let me speak, you'll understand why I'm having some doubts." Should he tell him the truth or not? Would Alexander be honest with him? "Alexander, I – I know about James Reynolds."

The heavy silence that followed his words pressed in on him like a ton of ice water. Thomas felt a shiver running through his spine while he carefully observed Alexander, recording every single reaction that would confirm him guilty. Alexander's eyes widened with terror and he held his breath for a couple of seconds, trying to articulate some words –

"WHAT?" He shouted so loudly that Thomas's ears hurt. "How do you know about him? Did he come here and told you, did he –

"Alexander, calm down for a minute, please." Thomas was afraid the man would have an heart attack – he was trying so hard to maintain a little composure, but was evidently shocked.

"So y-you know what I had to end then." He still looked shaken, but also quite abashed. "I've ended our... business, and he and his wife threatened me again, saying they would tell everyone about it. But this time I've been true to my word and I haven't come back to them. And so, he's come to tell you!"

"Er – that's not exactly what happened." Thomas was extremely grateful to know that Alexander had ended his affair, but he still had to ask him a very important question. "Someone's tracked your money back to some fat checks you gave Mr James Reynolds, specifically last summer."

"Did you do it?" Alexander couldn't believe his ears.

"I would never do such a thing...now," Thomas sighed, adding quietly "but, Alexander, if it's true that you used the Government's money for this shit, I'll have to ask you to leave now."

Alexander looked at him for some moments with an extremely hurt expression on his face, then he stood up and exited the room without another word.

"Well, I suppose that answers my question then," Thomas whispered weakly to himself, before slipping on the same chair Hamilton had just left, his hands buried in his hair, and the feeling of despair growing stronger and stronger into his chest.

He stood still in that same position for what seemed hours, trying not to think about what he'd lost before even really owning it – was this the story of his life? Was it his destiny to live without love? The water in the pot was boiling and the lid started to jingle, trying and failing to contain the steam within the pot, but Thomas didn't care. He wasn't hungry anymore, he just wanted to delete the memory of those damned documents from his mind.

"Thomas?" A quiet voice suddenly shook him from his numbness.

He raised his eyes from the room's floor to look at the man, who seemed exhausted, as if he'd run a long way.

"Alexander? I thought you were gone," the relief in Thomas voice was clear.

"Yeah, I was – I had to go home to take something." He produced a small diary from the pocket of his coat. "I've kept a record of every check right here, you can see it yourself that I've never spent a cent that wasn't mine."

Thomas took the small book with trembling hands, and started scanning carefully every single page, while Hamilton explained the situation to him.

"Mr Reynolds's wife, Maria, courted me and tricked me into following her to her house," he said, "and when she had me in a corner, that's when Reynolds blackmailed me. I know I may have mortally wounded my prospects, but you can see that my papers are orderly."

"Yes, I see that." Thomas gave the book back to his owner. "I believe you – except for the fact that Maria isn't the one you had the affair with, am I right?"

"What are you saying?"

"Ok, Alexander please, don't get mad." Now that he knew that Hamilton was innocent, Thomas had his own confession to make. "I saw you with James Reynolds, I followed you one night and I saw his wife going away, leaving you two alone."

"You followed me?"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't planning to do it, but then one day I was playing my violin and I saw you right in front of me, walking so circumspectly that I couldn't stop myself from doing it – please don't go."

Alexander was fuming. He was ready to leave the house slamming every single door on the way; but when he met Thomas's gaze again, he felt his rage fade at once – he couldn't even move. Those dark, warm eyes, that were usually so snob and self-confident, were now burning with feelings, softening Thomas's countenance in a way that he loved.

"That's ok," he heard himself say.

He couldn't look away from Thomas's face; it was as if he'd been bewitched by its every single feature – especially his lips. Thomas must have noticed it, since he smirked and moved closer to him.

"So, now that there's no more misunderstanding," he said in a very low, deep voice, "do you have your answer?"

"My answer?" Alexander echoed mindlessly, too distracted by Thomas to really think about what he was saying.

"About us."

Thomas moved closer and closer, until Alexander felt his back pressing to the wall. He bit his lip, while Thomas blocked his way out by leaning on the wall with both hands, trapping him there.

"Yeah," he saw Thomas's eyes flashing with desire when he bit his lip again – oh, so he likes it, good to know – and finally said, "I want to be with you, Thomas, or at least try to –

But he couldn't even finish the sentence, since Thomas's lips met his own in a blink and he felt his strong arms holding him as if he was the most precious thing he'd got. That kiss was nothing like their first one – it was equally perfect, of course, but this time they were both aware of their feelings and sure about what they were doing. Alexander felt Thomas's tongue gently pressing on his lips, and he parted them to kiss him with a passion he hadn't felt for a long time. After some minutes, they broke away a moment to catch their breath, looking into each other's eyes, still lost into the hurricane of their overwhelming emotions.

"Are you staying tonight?" Thomas whispered softly into his ear.

"I haven't got any excuse to stay out all night, Eliza could kill me," Alexander moaned, "but I'll think of something for next week, ok?"

"Sounds good."

"Am I still invited for dinner, tho?"

"Shit!" Thomas rushed to the stove, were the pot laid forgotten. "It's all burnt," he sighed.

"I can't believe it, and it happened the one time when you were actually cooking something edible," Alexander laughed, looking at the ruined pot.

Thomas rolled his eyes at him and chuckled, then disappeared in the nearby room once more.

"If you're bringing more wine to let me forget about your culinary failure, I'd totally approve it," Alex yelled after him, but Thomas re-emerged with some cheese and half a loaf of bread.

"The bread's not fresh, it's yesterday's, but it will do," he announced, shrugging and pouring more wine into the glasses to make amends.

"That's perfect," Alexander smiled widely, his beautiful eyes glowing with joy.

Thomas observed him while he ungraciously stuffed a huge piece of cheese into his mouth – making the former scold him again on his lack of manners, and the latter almost choke on his own food. However, the accident didn't ruin Alex's mood at all, and he continued chatting and eating as if he hadn't a single problem in the world. Thomas couldn't believe to be the reason behind such delight – gosh, he was dining with Alexander Hamilton, his political enemy and the man he'd been hating for so long... and yet, he couldn't think of him in those terms anymore. He was Alexander, his Alexander, and nothing would have ever been the same.