Chapter Text
Rumors only grow.
Every corner of the city was full of rumors, the Senate floor was no exception. However, it was well known, in a public matter, that Thomas Jefferson considered himself above such things as rumors, especially unbiased ones that could do no more than evoke a glare, perhaps some laughter, and then be dismissed with no consideration other than that.
But, privately, Jefferson knew the weight rumors carried, he knew very well that many people cared little if the words such rumors were true, because once spoken was like throwing seeds, and once heard by someone the seed had already been planted, and to whomever the rumor reached, the doubt, the seed of “but what if…?” was now seated deep, with an opportunity to grow or wither.
In reality, anyone could be pulled into the rumors, himself was not exception.
The words he have heard were nothing more than a simple rumor, laughable even, but these words had reached his ears nonetheless and the seed was planted. Jefferson rolled his eyes at the rumor, he laugh it off even, and such was the perfect reaction to give when being told such things before his fellow Democratic-Republicans. Yet in the privacy of his office, he couldn’t help but ask the dreaded question:
“But what if it’s true?”
He closed his eyes, the memory coming back to him vividly. The words spoken by John Beckley were not outrageous, nor scandalous, it was simply out of place to the current state of the nation and political climate they were dealing with. Washington had been in office barely over a year, the whole setting of a presidency was an experiment in itself, and perhaps because it was an experiment Jefferson couldn't shake the rumor away, it wasn’t outrageous, but it was possible.
They say... Hamilton is setting his path towards a presidential candidacy.
Jefferson frowned. As he thought before the notion wasn’t far fetched, simply not what the younger politician seem to be going for, but it was not an unreasonable thought either. It was possible , therefor the rumor had already starting to make roots inside Jefferson’s mind, even more so as he read Hamilton’s debt plan over and over again.
It wasn’t the first time Jefferson heard rumors regarding Hamilton, to this day there was another one floating around that, if not for certain details, he would have dismissed immediately. It started during the war, and it had carry over the present day. George Washington didn’t have children of his own blood, but he had been away before the war, before his marriage, sent to different places where a man could find himself with a woman and leave afterwards.
The way a nameless boy like Hamilton had made his path towards Washington was not outrageous or impossible, the boy had skills, but to gain Washington's affection over the years out of nowhere as he had? It was in the transparency of Washington’s affection that the rumor started
Jefferson knew that Hamilton didn’t have to share Washington’s blood to be considered his son. He was certain there was no secret encounter with an unnamed woman in a forgotten spot far from the mainland in Washington’s history. Begrudgingly, Jefferson had to admit that Hamilton’s success had nothing to do with nepotism, and the reason he had Washington's affection was simply because the General had a fondness for the loudmouth brat.
That rumor had entertained in his mind for an evening, and discarded just the same. Madison didn't even made a comment, he just rolled his eyes, knowing there was no truth in it from having been closer to Hamilton, once.
But this other rumor… the possibility of Hamilton building his path...
They were building a country. He was Secretary of State, Hamilton was Secretary of Treasury, the brat was shaping a financial system that had very good points and many other Jefferson refused to accept just in principle. While Jefferson was shaping his own path, his political career was already made, he was just making it stronger with every action, every decision, every word. He was known for his words, his name was was tied to the Declaration of Independence after all.
But Hamilton… Hamilton was not so far behind, not if he carefully thought about it. The brat didn’t have Jefferson’s name or carrier, that muchas was clear. But he was a decorated war veteran, he defended the Constitution alongside Madison and Jay, and even if his name was not plastered in those papers as a public knowledge, amongst the right people it was very well known. Jefferson was aware of every word in The Federalist Papers, he read them all, he saw the climbing potential in those letter, he at least could give the brat that.
Hamilton was capable, but he wasn’t the most liked person outside of the circles he nurtured, even amongst his fellow Federalist they were other more notable resources that could definitely stronger candidates in the future, like John Adams. So the notion of Hamilton becoming an active opponent was not something to worry at the moment.
But that could change .
He recognized the feeling as soon as it settled in his chest: doubt.
Scolding, Jefferson pushed aside the thought and settle in the present with more important matters than rumors . He found it difficult to leave his wandering thoughts aside when Hamilton’s debt plan was almost mocking him, the vast potential it carried. Yes, he disliked it, but he could see how it might work. Jefferson was far better and simply maintaining his opposition than others in his side, like Madison. His friend supported his opposition, wholeheartedly, yet in private will stare at the pages in a considering matter, as if lamenting the man behind those letters was drifting further and further away from him.
Sometimes Jefferson liked to pretend he couldn’t understand the friendship Hamilton and Madison shared, while at the same time watched in fascination as it slowly crumbled away, a tragedy he was using for their advantage.
Still, James was his friend, the very idea of James hurting was revolting. Being witness of how James pretended to not care every time he insulted Hamilton one way or another, yet grimaced when he thought Thomas was not looking, was an entirely different scenario.
He closed his eyes and willed himself to ignore the pit of jealousy, there was no need, James was on his side, the fact that he had regard Hamilton as a close friend, once, was not important. He had read The Federalist Papers, he understood where James possible affection came from, even if it was no more.
Jefferson’s thoughts brought him back to the new rumor. The idea swirled in his head vividly, he could see it as if was really happening: Hamilton making connections, joining forces instead of fighting them, compromising, making his path to be held in high regard not only as the founder of his party but supported by them to be the man whom, someday, might succeed Washington.
“President Hamilton,” Jefferson groaned in the dim light, “Absurd.”
At the moment, yes. Absurd, laughable, simply not affordable… but later? Oh… it might be no more a matter of laughter, it might be simply possible.
Jefferson scolded again, and pushed he papers aside, thinking. A rumor was all it took to set him in distress, and now the seed was growing to Jefferson’s chagrin. Even as days passed, the idea was not leaving him be, and the more he thought about it, the more plausible it felt to his mind. Such plausibility brought a sour taste to Jefferson’s mouth, and a dark cloud over his already unfavorable feelings towards Hamilton. It was easy to recent the younger man for the many things he had done as well as those he had not done, Jefferson didn’t have to justify his dislike in detail.
He will deny it to anyone, even James, for he couldn’t admit he let himself be bested in the game he presumed to be a master, and he will never say he was proud of the events that follow, but at that moment, with the seed pulsing, rooting and growing, it was easy to spit the venom in the company of his fellow Democratic-Republicans, carelessly, with no other perception in mind but put a halt to whatever linking anyone from his party could have for Hamilton. If Jefferson could not evoke dislike for Hamilton, then he will plant fear towards himself and what he was capable, so there was no doubt who side they should be, no other but his.
They say… Hamilton is making alliances with the opposition, opening doors as well as windows...
They say… Washington considers Hamilton the son he doesn’t have by blood….
They say… The presidency should not be inherited, for a throne it is not, but there is no fault in preparing the road for the ones to come…
They say… Hamilton is thinking of tomorrow, his eyes set far ahead.
“Of course he could be thinking ahead,” Jefferson said easily during a party meeting, his cup almost filled to the brim, his eyes in his party members and his lips curled into a smile to disguise his displeasure, “ Hamilton only thinks of himself , today is the financial system he’s using to seek benefit towards the very seat of government where he currently seats, but tomorrow? Our new nation is growing and has no need of more leeches sucking the foundation dry, somebody out to pour the salt if this continues,” he laughed, not showing his own discomfort at being affected by nothing but a rumor. He ignoring James’ frown as his hate laced words and spoke again, “I heard our dear Secretary is feeling under the weather these days,” he smiled, showing his teeth like a predator, “Shall we toast then? to the occasion,” He raised his glass, his eyes glossy and his mouth dry, “A speedy immortality, to Hamilton.”
A chorus of laughter follow, and the glasses where rose and the toast echoed in the room.
The words echoed in the room, a speedy immortality , for any sign of weakness was a proof that Hamilton was not making his way ahead, only perhaps to reunite with his fellow fallen war mates… Jefferson smiled, his anger dissolving into the cruel jab, it was satisfying. Rumors only grow, but he was already dowsing this with nothing more than a toast, or so he thought.
For him this was enough, by implying Hamilton being a low life he had let them know he should not be trusted, but he also was letting them know Hamilton was weak, and they should think nothing of him. He spoke because this was what he was feeling, he wanted to snatch the seed of doubt in him by the roots and plant something else, and so he did.
Jefferson didn’t paid enough attention to the eyes in the back of the room, to those who took his words and the followed toast a little too close to their hearts, with perhaps more glee than he initially intended.
The war was over, and there was no need to fight with anything but wisdom and words, no need for violence amongst themselves. His words were not meant to be literal, he meant no real threat, his intention was a blow to the spirit, to the morale, to the ridiculous notion that Hamilton would ever be anything but a nuisance. He was not really wielding a sword, pointing a gun or making a threat.
James even joined him in the toast, although his friend left his own glass untouched. Jefferson paid it no mind. He drank, everything was fine.
******
The summer was drawing itself with hot days and war nights, while the silence of the house did nothing but remind Alexander that he was by himself, not exactly by choice but in his own stubborn reasoning to get things done.
He was tired, the constant headaches were doing him no favors, not to mention the creeping loneliness that was crawling in his chest, curling and expanding with each lonely night, threatening to tear him apart. He missed Eliza and the children dearly, gone from his side to Albany for the summer along with Angelica, who was no longer an ocean away and still not close enough to Alexander, he was by himself at the beginning and at the end of the day.
Alexander sighed, heavily, deeply. It he were to be honest, he wished to be with his family upstate more than his current situation, locked up in his office doing revision after revision of his debt plan while trying to appeal to congress for such plan to get through. Yet, in his mind, his battle was not only for his pride but to keep his job and with it, be able to provide for his family.
If the worst case scenario were to happen, and congress called for his removal, he could return to New York and continue his legal practice, but not without a hinder in his career, that was a simply reality. It will do him no favors to be the first secretary of treasury but also the first to be removed, no. He had no choice, his plan had to get through congress.
So he set to keep his effort to get his debt plan passed, day and night.
Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the signs of what could be a summer cold looming over his self-neglected form. Whatever it might have been, Alexander was almost mellow during the many meetings, encounters and social call he answered to Federalist and Democratic-Republicans alike. He smiled, answered questions, his comments were moderated and overall he was pleasant to practically everyone.
A couple of his friends commented his strategy, his charm, and Alexander was middle embarrassed when he realized this, because he had no actual plan on the goings yet admitting such thing was probably not the best. He just let them think he indeed had an strategy to present on the works, absentmindedly saying he might as well listen to President Washington as he did during the war, it was an explanation enough, and perhaps some thought Washington was keeping him in check, or investing more than required in his behavior, and perhaps Alexander let them so, since there was no reason to do otherwise.
There was no master plan in his behavior, he was being more cautious because he didn’t need more blockers in his progress to get his debt plan through congress, and contrary to what some might think and say, he was aware of when he had gone too far. That was the main reason for his behavior, at least he told himself that, and it was not untrue, but neither was the only one. The second reason, the one that held more weight of his actions, was much more mundane.
Alexander was tired .
For the better part of the summer, Alexander had managed to push back against the headaches and negligence of his own physical needs, perhaps missing sleep for a week had not been his best idea. As Result was was feeling weak, far too awake, and forgetting things around the house. This pattern continued until a particularly hot afternoon when he fell asleep on his desk and was woken by an insistent knock on his door.
Standing too quickly, Alexander almost lost his footing. The room was spinning, and he leaned against the desk for balance, blinking rapidly to set his vision clear and cursing internally when it took longer than he expected. He really should leave for Albany to seek his wife’s company, or at least climb the stairs and sleep on his own bed.
Setting his longing for family aside, Alexander attended the door. There he found a young woman who looked in the edge of desperation, her eyes bright but her body locked in a tense form that was far too obvious to even his tired eyes.
“Can I help you?¨he asked, guiding the young woman inside.
“My name is Maria Reynolds, I’m very sorry to bother you, Mr. Hamilton,” she said quickly, “I need help, but I have don’t know where to go,” she explained.
Alexander frowned, “Can you elaborated?”
“Yes, sir…”
Her story was no entirely unfamiliar. She was young and she had married an older man, it was not long before things turned south, growing tension between them that because violent outburst, and now said older man was gone, not without leaving a mark on the young woman’s life. Maria was alone with daughter to protect and no means to do so in Philadelphia. She was looking for help, but more than anything she was looking to go back to New York, hence coming to his door.
Alexander resisted the urge to hold his head and apply pressure to his temples, even when the headache was creeping back with a full force against him as result of his own neglect for his health, the undesirable pain was coming back to him along a whisper that appeared to say I told you so , it strangely sound like Angelica.
“I can offer you the resources for yourself and your daughter to move back to New York,” he offered after thinking for a moment, “let me draft the conditions, it it fairly easy to manage,” he explained. “I will need a few hours, as you have pointed out this is an urgency I can expedite the process, we can reunite tonight once again, after I gather the money.”
“I appreciate your help sir, very much so.”
Alexander nodded to himself, “Sure…”
He dismissed her very quickly, but not unkindly. True to his words, Alexander made the stipulations for the loan, formalities, and retrieved the money he had been saving, it was not what he planned to do with it, but it was plain as day that Miss Reynolds was in need of assistance.
The boarding house Miss Reynolds was staying was not far from his own home, yet walking the distance felt like a herculean task, perhaps if his head stopped hurting he wouldn’t find it so annoying. Still, he kept his composure, and even smiled when handing the money to Miss Reynolds, along with some contact names that will gladly arrange her passage back to New York with her daughter.
“I should get going, good night Miss Reynolds,” he said while eyeing the door, he felt slightly sick.
“Won’t you stay?” she asked, hopeful, almost seductive, and Alexander tilted his head to a side, blinking slowly. “Please stay, sir…”
Alexander opened his mouth to reply, but his breath got caught and without meaning to ended up sneezing in Maria’s face. She closed her eyes for a long time, perhaps trying to register what just had happened. She accepted the handkerchief offered to her by Alexander, while he pretended the flush on his neck and face was because of the sneeze and not the utter embarrassment he was feeling.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said evenly, his voice at bay and not expressing how much he just wanted to lock himself in his office and perhaps never see Miss Reynolds again, not after the image of her face contracted in surprise and incredulity while some of his spit lingered on her cheek.
She cleaned her face with a grimace, “Perhaps not tonight, you’re right…”
“Have a pleasant evening, Miss Reynolds…”
He left the boarding house, and walked back home with both hands holding his head. It occurred to him only later, as he gave himself a moment to think, that the look Maria was giving him was not really innocent at best and lascivious at worst, and if Alexander were not feeling like he was walking directly under the sun, he might have been interested in her offer, only perhaps for the company. His face colored in shame at the thought. He covered his mouth with his hand and stopped walking, closing his eyes in distress.
Eliza… his dear Eliza, his children, and his dearest Angelica… oh how he longed for them.
Alexander took a deep breath, and slowly released it, walking short steps once he felt he was more in control of his own actions again. A part of him was tempted to go back to Maria, but no, he couldn’t do such thing, it would be wrong in so many levels, starting with the betray to his wife, followed by taking advantage of Maria, who was young and desperate, and she might need support and love, but Alexander couldn’t give her more than a loan.
Perhaps it was for the best that he had humiliated himself as he did before her.
He was closer to his home, still distracted, weak and with another guilt to carry around while he longed for his wife. He didn’t saw the men coming, the dark of the night did acted on their benefit and not his. Still, when he was seized against his will, his arms forced behind his back and a fault smelling rag was roughly pushed over his nose and mouth, he struggled. He fought, his military instincts kicking in so fast he managed to get himself free, striking only a few but effective blows.
It was enough to let him run, but whatever he inhaled was already taking effect, making hi vision swing and his movements too clumsy to allow him proper escape. One of his attacker came around and land a blow to the back of his head, he didn’t scream, perhaps he should have, but in the end he only tumbled on the street, where he was seized by his attackers again.
“S-Stop!” his voice sound strange even to him, and it was ignored.
A blindfold was tied over his eyes, spiking his panic, but the foul smelling rag was back over his face, and the fight drained out of him as his consciousness slipped away.