John Laurens rides up the long road leading to the home of Colonel Thomas Ellison, the current establishment of General Washington's army headquarters. The house sits high up on a hill overlooking the Hudson River. From his horse, Laurens sees a few tents pitched on the green in front of the house, the American flag raised on a poll beside them.

Laurens has been away from the General and the northern portion of the army since his capture in Charleston last May with the surrender of the city to the British. It was only in October that Laurens finally found himself released from British hands in Philadelphia. Yet, as soon as Laurens is released, the congress appoints him on a mission to France to obtain funds. Laurens would have hoped being a prisoner of war would allow him some time to breathe, to sit at his aide-de-camp desk as his father had always wished. Perhaps his father thinks France an even safer choice to keep Laurens out of the fighting.

"He would keep me under lock and key as much as the British if he could," Laurens mutters to himself as he nears the house.

Now come January, after a couple months of preparations and Laurens conferring with the Congress in Philadelphia, Laurens makes his way north toward Boston and a ship for France. However, he has time to stop in New Windsor and headquarters on his way. He should speak with Washington in more detail about the trip. It will also be most pleasing to see some of his fellow officers and aide-de-camps, one in particular.

In preparation for his journey abroad, Laurens carries with him an entire bag of documents – letters from Washington regarding his commission to France, packages for ambassadors John Adams and Francis Dana, letters to Benjamin Franklin regarding the state of the War and on Laurens himself. However, it is an older letter, worn from so many readings, which burns in Laurens' pocket separate from the rest, words which circle endlessly through his head.

In spite of Schuylers black eyes, I have still a part for the public and another for you; so your impatience to have me married is misplaced; a strange cure by the way, as if after matrimony I was to be less devoted than I am now.

Laurens knows Ms. Schuyler now bears the name Hamilton and Lt. Colonel Alexander Hamilton may lay claim to a wife. Laurens' dear friend – his Hamilton – is married.

"Why, Laurens!" Laurens sees Tench Tilghman waving to him with one hand as he hands some papers to a Sergeant with the other. "Laurens!"

Tilghman runs up to Laurens as Laurens slows his horse at the top of the hill by the house. "My dear Laurens, how good to see back among the free!"

Laurens jumps down from his horse with Tilghman's help. Tilghman then pulls Laurens into a hug as soon as his feet touch the ground.

"Tench," Laurens says with a touch of embarrassment as he pulls back. "I am well, you need not coddle me."

Tilghman claps him on the shoulder. "You have been away for near a year and imprisoned with the British for much of it! I cannot imagine what miseries you must have suffered."

Laurens clears his throat but forces himself not to think of the long days, weeks and months past so confined, so useless and alone. He shakes his head. "Not even six months imprisoned, Tilghman, and many have experienced far worse than I. And," he leans on the word to stop Tilghman's obvious start of more protests toward Laurens' previous plight, "I am here now among you and quite at liberty to serve our country once more."

"To serve in France." Tilghman raises his eyebrows. "I might call you Ambassador Laurens now."

"I am not an ambassador."

"And yet you shall sail across the sea to aid our fight."

"Would that I need not do so when I feel far more capable on the field than in such negotiations but the congress would have me go."

Tilghman gives him a look. "And not Hamilton? I hear you proposed his name in your stead."

Laurens focuses on handing off his horse to a private for a moment while Tilghman watches him. He turns back as his horse is led away for stabling then forces a smile. "Hamilton would have fared far better than I shall. His French is as good as yours or mine and his way with words exceeds all our own. Yet…" Laurens shrugs. "You know the value of one's name."

"Or father," Tilghman says quietly.

Laurens nods curtly then turns toward the house. "Is his Excellency in residence? I am afraid I must focus on business as I have little time here before I move onward to Boston."

"He is," Tilghman says as they start to walk. "We are much diminished now among his staff. Dear Kidder left us just this November to be married once more. McHenry joined Lafayette's staff, as you know. I also fear we shall lose the Old secretary soon."

Laurens frowns. "And why should we lose Harrison?"

Tilghman shakes his head. "There are some matters with his family. It is not clear yet but for now we retain him."

Laurens attempts to give his voice an only vaguely interested air as they reach the porch. "And Hamilton, is he…"

"Not here at present," Tilghman fills in. "Still reveling in his recent nuptials, I am sure, as they were only some weeks past. It is certainly a shame you had to miss the ceremony."

"Yes," Laurens says, unable to conger up any further false affection for the event.

Tilghman, however, continues without any notice of Laurens' unease at the subject as he opens the front door. "Would that I could have attended myself to see the happy couple wed. Only McHenry was able to spare time."

Laurens cannot stop a scoff as they step inside. Of all the aides to see Hamilton cross such a threshold, it would be McHenry.

Tilghman chuckles at Laurens' reaction. "Fear not, Laurens, I have no doubt Hamilton shall tell us all we would wish to hear on the ceremony, his new moneyed family and the honeymoon when he arrives."

Laurens stops in the front hall, looking at Tilghman as he closes the door behind them. "When is he to arrive?"

Tilghman replies, "He is due on the fifteenth if his plans and the weather hold as expected."

Laurens' jaw clenches. "I see."

Laurens cannot decide if he wishes to see Hamilton or not. He had dearly hoped Hamilton would be at headquarters all through his journey. It has been so many months since Laurens has seen Hamilton and certainly more to find time for them alone. Laurens' hands itch at the thought of touching Hamilton once more. Yet another part, a dark, angry part of his soul wishes to never lay eyes on Hamilton again.

"Ah!" Tilghman says as another tall man walks up to them with a wide smile on his face. Tilghman gestures between the new man and Laurens. "David Humphreys, allow me to introduce one of our former aide-de-camps, now to be sent on a special commission to France, John Laurens. Laurens, Humphreys joined us as a fellow aide in June of last year."

"A pleasure, sir," Humphreys says gripping Laurens' hand. "I have heard of your bravery on the field as well as your diligent service as one of the General's staff."

"And my most recent months as a British prisoner no doubt."

Humphreys' face falls slightly as their hands release and he pulls his hands behind his back. "Well, I should imagine…"

"Do not mind, Laurens," Tilghman says by way of rescuing Humphreys. "He is only cross that he should be sent so far from the gun and sword of our revolution off to France instead."

Laurens shoots a quick glare at Tilghman. Tilghman only gives him an amused smile in return. Laurens wants to remain annoyed but he did miss Tilghman's wheedles and easy grace among all men.

"Pleased to meet you," Laurens allows which makes Humphrey's face light up once more. He seems a rather affable creature.

"Laurens."

The three men turn at the sound of General Washington's voice. Laurens pulls off his hat quickly which he had yet forgotten to remove once indoors. He bows quickly then steps forward to shake the General's outstretched hand. "Sir."

"How good to have you back with us, Laurens."

Laurens nods. "Be it but a brief time." He then smiles because even such a long absence and Laurens' own desires thwarted cannot deter his affection for the man. "I am quite honored to see you again, sir."

Washington smiles at him, putting his other hand on top of their clasped one. "And I you. This commission is a credit to your abilities." He releases Laurens' hands then continues. "If you would prefer, you may find some rest from your journey or we might begin to discuss the particulars of your commission presently."

"If you are amenable, your Excellency, I would be pleased to begin at once."

Over the next several days, Laurens and Washington discuss and draft plans for his mission in France; money to be acquired, supplies and ships, as well as a list of points about the American position, which must be relayed to the French court. Laurens remains attentive and focused despite the pit in his stomach. He has no desire to play envoy. He requested permission to join the southern campaign, to try once more for his black regiment, to support his own southern countrymen and to remain well away from any feelings which might arise were he to return to headquarters. Yet now he sails for France? He thinks the phrase 'be careful what you wish for' connects far closer than he should care for.

Laurens spends the early afternoon of his last day before leaving for Boston above stairs in the Ellison's library reviewing Franklin's most recent reports to Congress on the French state of affairs and support for the revolution. Laurens wonders, not for the first time, if a French court full of such manners and ceremony will fit well with his usual behavior and attitude. Laurens was raised a southern gentleman but he knows himself and his moods. Then again, perhaps they may need Laurens' brusque impatience for a change of pace.

"Laurens?" A knock and opening of the library door reveal Humphreys peering in at him.

"Yes?"

Humphreys smiles, as Laurens has marked to be near the only expression of his face, as he walks in and hands Laurens some papers. "The General's finished draft of points on the American situation."

"Thank you, Humphreys, I shall read it presently."

"He said as much." Humphreys rocks on his heels once. "'Always dutiful in his role,' I believe the General said." Laurens only smiles in reply. Humphreys nods then turns to leave but stops only a step on. "Oh! I nearly forgot, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton has arrived."

Lauren swallows once. "Has he?"

"He has been speaking with the General some fifteen minutes but he did ask if you were available to speak as well. Might I send him up once he has left the General?"

Laurens stares at Humphreys in silence for a beat too long, Humphrey's eternal smile sagging slightly with the wait. Then Laurens sits up straighter at his desk and nods. "Yes, of course. You may tell him I am amenable."

Humphreys smiles wide once more. "I shall." Then he turns and walks from the room again, the door closing quietly behind him.

Laurens breathes in and out several times; his heart beat considering a swift gallop as a grand plan. Laurens presses his palms into the wood of the desk. He stares at the panels of glass in the window before him, sunlight and the tint of green grass outside. He cannot look down at the papers Humphreys gave him, cannot still his swirling mind to read as he should.

"Be calm," he chides himself. He is not an aching beau; he is not so bound to Hamilton as this. He also deludes himself.

Then someone raps quickly on the door.

"Come in," Laurens replies automatically.

Hamilton walks through the door – a bright clean uniform, his hair well tied back with a black ribbon, his hat still under his arm, only some dust from traveling on his boots and a tentative smile on his face – then the door closes behind him.

Laurens stares. "Alexander."

"John." Hamilton stares back.

Laurens stands up quickly, the chair making an awful scratching noise on the floor. Laurens winces then lets out a breathless laugh. "You look… you look quite well."

"And you," Hamilton replies. "So long with the British I had feared…" He trails off keeping his fears within him as they stand still staring at each other.

Laurens wants to kiss Hamilton more than anything. Hamilton must feel the same because he suddenly strides forward, drops his hat over Laurens' papers and grips Laurens' hands in his. When their hands touch, Laurens feels the ring on Hamilton's finger. He looks down, sees the gold band then pulls his hands away like the metal burns him.

"Laurens, what..."

Laurens turns toward the opposite wall, his breathing suddenly fast. He feels very much as if he may vomit. He paces across the room away from Hamilton, stares out of the window, the sun blinding him slightly.

"Congratulations on your marriage," he says low. His tone does not reflect his words.

"Thank you," Hamilton replies after a beat. Then he says, "You did not attend the ceremony."

"I could not."

"You were released a month earlier. You had time enough –"

"I could not!" Laurens snaps again flashing an angry look at Hamilton. "Why should I wish to see that?"

Hamilton presses his lips together tightly and stays where he stands. "I had hoped you would be able to find some happiness for me."

Laurens' lip curls as if in a snarl but he turns away before he allows his anger forth. He did not anticipate this anger. He has missed Hamilton, longed for his presence, to hold him close, to call Hamilton his own once more as he has for so long; but Hamilton no longer belongs to Laurens and he did not anticipate how very angry he would be at even the sight of Hamilton now, at that ring.

Laurens knew this would happen. It is not as if he thought any different end waited for the two of them. Laurens himself has a wife in England, one he cares little for, but Laurens has always known Hamilton is not the same as he.

"Can you not be happy for me?" Hamilton asks quietly. "Mrs. Hamilton is –"

Laurens makes a small sound of pain he cannot help. 'Mrs. Hamilton.' The words on Hamilton's lips, so formal, so final. He leans his hands on the windowsill and tries to focus on his breath.

"Please, do not behave this way," Hamilton asks, his voice plaintive. "I have not intended to hurt you. You knew..."

"I should have asked you not to," Laurens whispers.

"What?"

"I should have asked you not do," Laurens repeats, low and harsh.

"Why?" Hamilton replies, his voice suddenly harsh as well. "Did you think I would heed you? What would you have us do? You and I are one thing but marriage, my wife, is quite another."

Laurens grips the wood of the windowsill so hard he fears it might splinter. Tears sting his eyes. He wants to leave, to run out of the room, but Hamilton stands between himself and the door. He knows Hamilton will try to stop him should he move towards it and if Hamilton touches him now Laurens has no idea what he might do.

"You have a wife of your own, John," Hamilton continues, his voice calmer but still severe. "That is the way of the world and I care for my wife as I do for you. She is..." Hamilton sighs in a wistful, happy manner. "She is a beauty, delicate and fair, just what –"

"I do not want to hear!" Laurens snaps, pounding his fist once on the windowsill.

He sucks in a deep breath, reminds himself to keep his voice down lest others in the house hear their quarrel. Laurens stays standing where he is, does not turn around. The window has become his lifeline in this moment, in this reality.

"Laurens," Hamilton begins again. "I do not aim to wound you."

"And yet you do," Laurens cuts in angrily.

"But," Hamilton continues and Laurens hears him walking closer. "I mean to tell you that while I love my wife..." Laurens clenches his teeth together and shuts his eyes at the word 'love.' "I also care for you. You know this. I wrote as such. You cannot tell me you did not understand or you do not know how my affections tend."

Hamilton touches Laurens' shoulder, trying to turn him around. Laurens, however, pulls violently away. He paces across the room again, one hand held over his eyes.

"Laurens, you overreact. You are still as dear to my heart as my Betsy."

"Stop talking, Hamilton!" Laurens snaps, dropping his hand again as he whirls around to face Hamilton. "Can you never stop talking? Do you imagine your words bring any understanding I do not posses? Do you think you offer comfort?" Laurens points emphatically toward the floor. "You do not!"

Hamilton's face looks pained, stricken even. "You do not believe me?"

"Marriage is the end!" Laurens snaps. "It always is!"

He remembers Geneva, the freedom of school, being so new, careless, of Francis Kinloch and soft kisses, and youthful indulgence, and Francis choosing marriage; the exact same situation playing here once more, as it did then, in front of Laurens, as it always will. Why did he ever imagine Hamilton would be different? Why did he think something more could wait for him? Even Laurens was forced to choose marriage to maintain respectability. Why would someone who actually finds pleasure in women think marriage anything but a happy end?

"You are not allowing me to speak, Laurens," Hamilton says. "You tell me I speak too much but you do not listen to what I say!"

"I have listened."

"You have not!" Hamilton takes a step closer making Laurens take a step back. Hamilton stares at him for a moment, clearly surprised by Laurens' behavior, the distance between them. Then he pulls himself up again. "You think you know what this means but you are allowing your fears to rule you. You are not listening to my assertions, to my promise that I am not leaving you."

Laurens swallows once and looks away as the shelves lining the walls, law books and ledgers, stacks of paper yet to be written on. "How can you promise me anything, Hamilton?" He looks back again. "You have barely begun your life with her, a war still rages on our soil and I am to Boston then France tomorrow. What have we left?"

"You speak as if there would be no future after now!"

Lauren almost says 'there is not' but holds his tongue in time. Hamilton does not miss Laurens' expression. Hamilton walks forward and with Laurens standing so close to the wall now there is no escape. Hamilton stops in front of Laurens and grips Laurens' hand with his right, no ring between them.

"There is a future. We shall win this war and then we may find what life lies beyond."

"Your home and hearth and wife," Laurens replies but the bite has left his words.

"Yes." Laurens wants to pull his hand away again but Hamilton holds his hand tightly. "And I shall return to the law, as may you. You could move to New York, perhaps. We could even work together, have you not thought of what might be? There will be a need to establish what kind of country we are without the war, how shall the states continue together as one. Your dream for the abolition of slavery, which you know I share, it shall take time to accomplish and we shall do so together. I will be there by your side." He threads his fingers with Laurens, every bit a symbol. "You and I, together. I will have my wife. I will start a family but you are the other half. I hold your hand."

Laurens would never call Hamilton naive, not from even the little he knows of Hamilton's past or his cynicism; yet Hamilton also remains an idealist in some respects. Hamilton sees a bright future full of wife and children and ascension and recognition and somehow Laurens as well; happy days and a name made for himself and Laurens a secret they are both happy to indulge in dark rooms and warm beds, every bit rosy and true.

Laurens, however, sees the absence of their everyday intimacy, working side by side, a wife there instead, the busy nature of a law practice or government and finding less and less time for solitude. He sees children taking up time. He sees his own obligations to a wife and daughter. He sees separation growing more acute until the glue of war which bound them together dissolves into the reality of life until Hamilton finds the ease of his soft woman more pleasurable than the secrecy of his hard edged friend.

Yet Laurens wants to believe Hamilton. He needs to, because if he does not then he sees no light on his horizon.

Laurens grips Hamilton's face, pulls him close and kisses him. He breathes out into their kiss, Hamilton still so close and Laurens wonders if he had forgotten what Hamilton smells like, what he feels like. Hamilton kisses him back, runs his other hand along Laurens' cheek. Laurens ignores the feeling of metal around Hamilton's finger and kisses him harder instead, kisses him so he will not forget the Hamilton that was his.

Laurens pulls back just enough to press their foreheads together, his thumb rubbing against the stubble on Hamilton's chin. "As you wish," Laurens whispers.

Hamilton smiles tentatively, squeezes the hand he still holds. "I am only asking you to trust me."

"I do."

"Trust that I care for you."

Laurens nods against Hamilton. Hamilton reaches his free hand up and runs it along Laurens' hairline and down his neck to rest at the top of Laurens' cravat.

"Trust that I will miss you dearly while you are in France, that I have missed you dearly while you were prisoner; that I have ached for you."

"You have had another to keep you thus occupied."

"John..." Hamilton pleads, pulling away so they can see each other.

Laurens bites down his jealousy, his pettiness and he leans in to Hamilton, kisses him lightly. "I missed you. It was agony to be so confined and so far from you."

"You asked the General to join the southern campaign," Hamilton says in a rush, "as soon as you were free, as soon as you could have returned to me. I understand your desire for your own countrymen but –"

"You know why," Laurens says before Hamilton can ask.

Hamilton presses their foreheads together again hard – as if he could force his thoughts into Laurens' head – he steps closer, nuzzles his nose into Laurens' cheek and rubs his thumb over Laurens'. "I want you here."

"I know."

"And now France..."

"I know."

"I need you."

"You will have comfort."

Hamilton sighs and dips his head so Laurens lips press against his forehead. "It is not as though my wife joins me in this fight. This is our world, Laurens, your world." He pulls back a step then looks up again. "Please do not make me fight for every inch. Will you punish me forever, for wanting such a life as most men do?"

"I cannot expect you to be as I am," Laurens replies tersely.

Hamilton shakes his head, his lips tight. "That is not an answer."

Laurens shifts to the side and pulls himself away from between Hamilton and the wall. He paces several steps, rubs a hand over his face then paces again. "Perhaps it is all as it should be. I to France, you to remain. You are married not even a month. You will be sure to find the bliss married life promises. If I am away in France it is better."

"Laurens..."

"I know the nature of such things as we have had between men in this world. They are not meant to be lasting. Marriage, wife and family, they are the nature of what holds together society. This with us was never something which I should have imagined binding."

"Laurens..."

"I do wish you happiness," Laurens says, looking at Hamilton once more and swallowing bile in the back of his throat. "It is what every man should want."

Hamilton steps toward him. "John, I want you."

Laurens shakes his head. "You should not."

"Can we not waste what time we have with fighting and woes?" Hamilton suddenly snaps. "You know my feelings, I know yours. I am married, as are you, but that does not change our friendship nor my devotion. Please, Laurens, can we not have this one day, now? It is all we have before we are apart again. Please."

Laurens watches Hamilton for a moment. He cannot bear the sight of Hamilton's obvious pain. "Yes," Laurens acquiesces. "Yes."

Hamilton moves quickly to remove the space between them, pulling Laurens back into his arms. Laurens folds over, his head down, Hamilton's chin up so they kiss once more, eyes closed, ears alert, though Laurens would thrash anyone who dared knock on the door now. He touches Hamilton's face, his hair, imagines a night they will not have before Laurens must leave.

"They said you leave tomorrow," Hamilton says as he kisses Laurens.

"Yes."

"First light?"

"Yes."

Hamilton makes a pained sound. "Not even a day." He pulls back just enough so Laurens can see the sorrow on his face. "I cannot even have you for a day."

"If I'd had my way you would not have even had that as I would be in South Carolina again."

Hamilton's hands clench on Laurens' sides. "I know your feelings, Laurens, you need not remind me of my faults against you. You chide me for talking on and you cannot hold your tongue for the mere hours we have?"

"I…" Laurens shakes his head because Hamilton is right. He asked for the time they have. If Laurens remains angry now what will months away in France be like? "I apologize. I simply…"

Hamilton kisses him slowly. "I know. I will miss you more than you know."

"I know," Laurens says fiercely, burying a hand in Hamilton's hair and angling Hamilton's head up more so Laurens may crush their lips together.

He wants to tell Hamilton about his months away, under guard, the feeling of failure, of humiliation, how the whole time all he wanted was Hamilton to walk through the door, grab his hand and run all the way back to the safety of the American lines. He wants to shout at Hamilton for the letter, the words about a woman stealing Hamilton's affections away. He wants to whisper about lost nights and nights he wants, how every kiss is a treasure and how Hamilton's skin feels like home beneath his hands.

A floorboard out in the hallway creaks loudly. The two of them let go of each other and step back. Laurens glances at the library door but no one knocks. He turns to Hamilton again.

"I asked Washington to obtain your release sooner," Hamilton says quietly, as if admitting a secret.

"I know. I was not of sufficient importance for a trade so soon."

"You were to me."

Laurens smiles. "I am alive and I am here."

"Yes."

Laurens wants to say something snide, something cutting; he wants to say, 'I was not back soon enough to stop you.' But Hamilton asked for now, the time they have and Lauren must reign in his jealousy. He cannot break what little he may have left.

Hamilton steps close again and takes Laurens' hand. Laurens looks down at the ring on Hamilton's finger.

"I hope you do not think of me as just a married man now." Laurens looks up at Hamilton's words. Hamilton's expression appears cautious, hopeful. "I hope you can still see me as what I have always been."

"And what is that?"

"Your dear friend who holds the most singular affection for you."

Laurens nods. "I can." He swallows a lump in his throat and lets go of Hamilton's hand. "And I am pleased that she shall give you the family and position you have wanted."

Hamilton's lips pinch. "You need not say that."

"I have."

"You need not say what you do not mean."

"I do not care for her," Laurens snaps. "I do not care about her person or her wants or anything about her." Hamilton fists his hands for a moment but says nothing. Laurens blows out a breath. "I do care that you should be happy."

Hamilton watches him for a beat then nods his head. "Fine."

"Well…" Laurens grapples for a moment at what to say. It is of his own making but a distance spans between them, points in their lives and wishes. Laurens clears his throat and gestures at the desk behind him. "I am reviewing the General's points on the American situation which I am to present to the French, if you would care to aid me?"

Hamilton smiles briefly then nods. "I should be happy to."

Laurens pulls a second chair from its place against the wall and sets it beside his own at the desk. Laurens removes Hamilton's hat to the windowsill as Hamilton sits down. Laurens then sits next to Hamilton moving his other papers aside so only the General's list remains before them. Hamilton adjusts his chair an inch closer and their knees press together like so many days as aide-de-camps writing out orders or translating French.

"Well, let us see," Hamilton mutters as he begins to read.

Laurens lays his hand on the table beside Hamilton's as he watches him read. Laurens does not ask the question which burns on his tongue, which he will never be able to ask, 'do you love her more than me?'