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“But if you were to ask me who I’d promote…” Hamilton lapsed into silence where he stood at the podium, and the room held its breath.
Savoring the death of my dream, Jefferson thought, more tired than bitter. And he couldn’t help the smile that pulled at one corner of his mouth at Hamilton’s theatrics. It seemed that the only time one could get him to shut up was when he knew everyone wanted to hear from him.
With a harsh exhale, Hamilton’s eyes opened – but without razors in them. He appeared only resigned … and exhausted. “Jefferson has my vote.” Alexander’s blue eyes didn’t spare Jefferson a single glance as he handed him the presidency, turning his attention to the shell-shocked delegates and launching into an explanation.
A long moment of confusion passed in which he could hear Alexander talking, but the sounds did not reach him. Why wasn’t Alex looking at him? Thomas had had a rueful smile all ready to go, ready to let him know that he may have delayed him by choosing Burr but he hadn’t beaten him, but the smile melted away, dragging his mouth into a frown. Madison was thumping him on the back and gripping his hand, ecstatic – and it was only when he registered his friend’s joy that it finally sunk in.
“Jefferson has my vote.”
Alex had picked him. Alex had endorsed … him.
In God’s name, why?
Hamilton looked much taller than his 5”7” stature as he continued his speech with a disclaimer, a don’t-blame-it-on-me-if-this-comes-back-to-bite-us-you-only-gave-me-shitty-candidates-to-work-with caveat. But he wasn’t even being insulting. Had Phillip’s death eaten away that much of him? Jefferson had heard the rumors when the young Hamilton was shot, had felt sympathy in passing, but it was only now with his long-time rival standing calmly – calmly!– before the delegates that he noticed streaks of silver gray tangled in chestnut brown hair years too early.
And he wondered if the Alex he’d fought with all this time was not there anymore. He found, with an unexpected twinge, that he would miss him.
“For God’s sake, Thomas, smile! You’ve as good as won!” Madison whispered, shaking his silent companion.
But his mouth just wouldn’t cooperate. Lafayette would never forgive him for putting on such a poor show, but all Jefferson could do was stare. The world had turned upside down.
Hamilton was still talking. His voice, honest and a bit defensive, commanded attention as it always had. One might think that he had never retired if they were to guess from the rapt crowd. “I’ve never agreed with Jefferson once. We’ve fought on like 75 different fronts.” And there were a few chuckles, as everyone knew that Alex would gladly provide an itemized list of those grievances should anyone ask. “But when all is said, and all is done…”
Hamilton turned his head, eyes finally locking with Thomas. “Jefferson has beliefs.” The look Alex gave him was almost kind, and Thomas was shocked to find what he’d always wanted to see there – understanding. Recognition that everything he’d done, everything they’d fought over, was in the name of those beliefs, and in hope for the precious future.
Blue eyes twinkled with mirth at Jefferson’s shock. Then he went in for the kill. “Burr has none.”
A wave of “Oooh”s rippled through the crowd, and they broke out into fits of whispering when it became clear that Hamilton was done speaking, setting several neat copies of his typed argument on the podium before stepping down.
Thoughts crowded Jefferson’s mind as Madison went into fits of delight beside him, but the only words he could form were, “Well I’ll be damned.” And that didn’t seem nearly enough, so he repeated, “Well I’ll be damned.”
“Looks like Hamilton’s on your side,” Madison replied with a satisfied grin. He probably thought that this was all his doing, that it was his talk with Alexander that had carried the day. If he thought that for even a moment then he really didn’t know Alexander at all, Jefferson thought, rolling his eyes. The little firebrand couldn’t be convinced. Why, then? "Jefferson has beliefs.” But Hamilton had fought those beliefs from the beginning!
And yet he’d chosen him.
“Burr has none.”
Aaron Burr had been Alex’s friend. Jefferson would have understood choosing Burr on the basis of old loyalties alone. Instead, he’d exposed Burr’s greatest fault in front of everyone – without insulting Jefferson once. Maybe he’d misjudged Hamilton. Because Alexander had the perfect opportunity for revenge, and instead he’d given the presidency to his enemy so that the country’s leader would have morals.
People were rushing over to congratulate him while others made awkward attempts to comfort the silent, red-faced Burr. Jefferson managed a grin for his friends, shaking hands and laughing, but his eyes weren’t for them. He craned his neck to find Alexander in the crowd.
There he was, shaking a few hands and nodding to some old friends. Then he began to make his way toward the door. But – he couldn’t just leave-! Thomas quickly extricated himself from his well-wishers and hurried after him, leaving Madison to accept their congratulations in his stead. “Alexander!”
The Federalist slowed, turning his head. His eyebrows raised in surprise to see Thomas coming toward him. An unwelcome flush came over Jefferson’s face. Did Alex think so little of him that he wouldn’t want a word?
Thankfully, Hamilton gestured for him to follow and they stepped out of the building and onto the steps, shaded by the overhanging roof. Then Alex just looked at him, waiting.
“I, um-” Jefferson fumbled, and silently cursed himself. “I’m surprised.”
Hamilton’s expression didn’t change, though his lids sunk a little lower over his eyes. “We are not who we once were, Thomas.”
And what could he say to that? It was obvious that Alex had changed, but startling that he knew Thomas had as well. Had he noticed, even in his retirement, the effort Jefferson was making, how hard he’d been fighting? Or was he referring to their relationship? If it had changed, Thomas was the last to know.
“I’m grateful for your endorsement,” and he was, he really was, he just couldn’t understand it, “but Burr – wasn’t he your friend?”
Hamilton’s eyes became frosty, his mouth a thin line. “So was Lafayette.”
The memory of his sharp words when Hamilton convinced Washington not to interfere made him wince. “Have you forgotten Lafayette?"
Hmilton had looked at him as if he’d crossed a line, his eyes as cold as they were now. “Lafayette’s a smart man, he’ll be fine. And before he was your friend, he was mine.”
Damn it. He hadn’t meant to dig up old arguments. But hadn’t that been the sum of their relationship – arguments? He only knew one way to communicate with Hamilton – but he didn’t want to fight. He gave a sharp sigh of frustration, wishing that he knew what to say. “I just meant – does this mean – damn it, Alex, are we friends now?” The words had just slipped out before he’d been able to process them, and he grimaced, expecting a rebuke.
But Alex’s eyes warmed with amusement. “I should think not, Mr. President.”
The title threw him. Hamilton was the first to call him that. And hadn’t he sometimes savored the thought of Alexander, proud Alexander, being forced to say it? He’d imagined the words bitter or saccharine sweet, each equally satisfying and easily met with a prepared sneer. But the words had fallen from his mouth with only light teasing. Just where had his Alex gone? The man he sparred with even when he wasn’t present, going over his own arguments in his head, red-faced with anger at the retorts he imagined Hamilton making.
“How are you?” he asked, throat tight. Are you still you?
Pain flashed across Hamilton’s face as he turned his head to the side, keeping his emotions private. After a long moment, he said, “It’s quiet uptown.” With a rueful smile at Jefferson, he turned and began walking down the steps.
“Alex! Are you ever coming back?” he called, and then had to wonder what had possessed him. He’d been tense for months, just waiting for Hamilton to reappear on the political scene and turn everything on its head. And then he’d done just that, in the last way Jefferson could have imagined. He only knew that he didn’t want Alexander to leave just yet.
But Hamilton only raised his hand to wave goodbye without turning back. “This country deserves better than us, Thomas. Do your best to give it to them.” And then he was gone, melting into the crowd. Jefferson watched him go with a strange tightness in his chest.
“Alex,” he breathed, hands curling and uncurling in frustration. And hadn’t it always been Alex and he’d just been too stubborn to admit it?
But Madison was calling, and he had a country to change.
And if his step was a bit lighter for the thought that Hamilton had trusted him with the precious future, no one had to know.