4

He was holding a violin to his neck, nervousness curling in his gut. Sitting at a piano (no, it was a harpsichord) to his left, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on smiled at him. Something melted inside his chest. "Are you ready to commence, Mr. Jefferson?"

"At your fancy, Mrs. Wayles." She chuckled, tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and leaned in to peer at her music pages. Her hands rested lightly on the keys, and very softly she began. It was beautiful. His heart leapt as it always did in the presence of music.

He was nervous because he supposed he was trying to impress her. This woman who was so accomplished musically. He began his violin in his appropriate place, and soon she was singing as well as playing. Halfway through, she suddenly began to laugh. "Oh, Thomas, please. Are you to leave me to sing alone?"

He blinked rapidly. "Ah, um, I did not know whether or not you desired that I-"

"Hush." She chuckled. "Sing with me. We shall send those men away." She nodded toward the window. Outside, from the right angle, you could see the front door. Half a dozen men were standing hesitantly on the porch. Thomas's stomach curdled. He knew at once who they were. Other suitors. His competitors, he supposed.

"Do not be contrary, Mr. Jefferson. Sing with me. If they hear us together, I imagine they will not attempt to knock."

Thomas frowned at her, confused. "And why is that?"

Mrs. Wayles shrugged. "They will see any attempt to win me is, frankly, hopeless."

Thomas laughed. "Then certainly, I will sing."

And so they sang.

Thomas's eyes flickered open even as he ached to return to the sweet beauty of the strangely vivid dream. He groaned and flopped a hand over his face. The light was bright and a stream of it climbed over his body.

Daylight.

Reality hit him all at once. He cursed and wildly tried to stand, only to tangle in his blanket and land on the floor next to the couch.

He moaned into the carpet. He was late. Really, really late.

On the plus side, his nausea was gone, and his headache had greatly improved. An ibuprofen would help that.

He thrust himself to his feet and flew into his bedroom, pausing dizzily at the door frame. Cursing all the while, he accidentally tried to put his dress shirt on upside down, fixed that, hopped around to get on his pants, grabbed his jacket and tie and shoes and rushed to the bathroom. His hair was crap. He did not have time to change that. He patted it vainly, growled in frustration, and rushed to the door. "They are going to kill me," he nervously sung to himself under his breath, tying his tie. He jerked open the door."They are going to skin me alive if I don't- Ah!"

Mariah jumped back, hand raised to knock. She was just as shocked as he was.

Thomas gaped like a fish. "Mariah! W-what are you doing here?"

Mariah took a second to find her words. "I was coming to find you! You said you would be at work hours ago, and you sounded so sick last night, I-I wanted to see if you were okay."

Thomas blinked. "Uh. Okay. Thanks. I'm much better."

Mariah narrowed her eyes. "You are seven hours late is what you are."

"Seven hours?"

"It's already lunchtime, you imbecile. I had to reschedule your meeting with that senator you were supposed to meet with. Again. Here," she huffed. "Let me do that." She plucked the tie from his fumbling hands and tied it expertly.

Thomas looked down in shock.

"My father couldn't tie his ties any better than you can."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "I'm almost offended by that."

"You don't get to be offended. You get to be exceedingly apologetic to that senator, who you are meeting in thirty minutes, by the way. Tuck your shirt in. And for goodness sake, do something about your hair. You're a senator, not a rapper. Let's go." With that, crossed arms, she spun and clicked down the sidewalk to a black car in her high heels.

Thomas smirked after her.

In the car, Mariah sat across from him, arms still crossed. She squinted at him. "What's up with the eyes?"

Thomas groaned. "My eyes are screwed up now, too?"

"Yes… actually." Her irritation quickly turned to concern. She leaned closer to his face. "Have you always had Sectoral heterochromia?"

"Sectoral what?"

Chewing her cheek, she dug in her purse and took out a makeup mirror/blush clam… thingy and handed it to him. Thomas wrinkled his nose cheekily. "I'm already pretty enough, thanks."

"Give me anymore sass and you can do your own paperwork."

Thomas sat back with a tight-lipped smile. "Woah, Woah, lady. No need to go to such drastic means."

"Just look, will you?"

Fine. "I think I know what my own eyes look like, Mariah." He clicked open the mirror and held it up to his face. First to the right eye… and then the other. "I mean, it's… it's…"

He dropped the mirror.

"What on earth?"

He held the mirror up again. His left, normally completely dark brown iris, now had a murky, vaguely triangular shaped slice of… blue. Bright blue. In the upper half.

"That's… weird."

He didn't have any other words for it.

"Maybe something stuck in it?" Mariah supplied.

"Maybe," he muttered. From a distance, it might look that way, but up close it was obvious. No, the eye color itself was entirely different.

Frowning, he gave Mariah back her mirror. "Huh. It's probably just a fluke."

Mariah shook her head. "That is a ridiculous thing I have ever heard you say. And you have said a lot of ridiculous things!"

"Hey now!"

"You need to get that checked out by a doctor. People's eyes don't change like that all of the sudden."

They rolled to a stop and Thomas lifted his hands in surrender. "I'll see a doctor about it. Scouts honor."

Mariah replied with only a frustrated huff. She exited the car, and Thomas did as well. He buttoned his top button as he stood, and frowned at his surroundings. The neighborhood was exceedingly expensive. The houses could hardly be called houses. Mansions, maybe. Castles, more like. Thomas whistled in appreciation. "Where are we?"

"That newly elected senator's house." Mariah started a quick clip toward the (freaking castle) they'd parked alongside. A driver was already preparing to park their car, and Thomas had to crane his neck to see the top of the old house as they drew nearer. He registered her words. "Uh, we're meeting him? Shouldn't he be coming to us?"

"He was. But given that I canceled on him no less than three times I thought it pertinent to show our humility and complete sincerity by making the drive ourselves."

Okay, so she was still pissed. Thomas didn't think it wise to argue.

They reached the front door, and Thomas chuckled. "I mean, senators get the dough, but how does a senator get this much?"

"He is exceedingly lucky," said a voice from behind them.

Thomas spun around, mouth open and dangling. He cursed himself inwardly. A young man in a suit exited a black SUV with an easy smile and something cardboard cradled in his arms. He had a casual, sophisticated air. Everything under control.

"Uh," Thomas started. "That was… I am, so sorry. We are making ourselves out to be very foolish, aren't we?" Thomas stuck his hand out. "Thomas Jefferson. Again, I am so sorry for the inconvenience we have caused you."

The senator shook Thomas's hand. "Thomas Jefferson?"

Thomas blinked a few times, trying to figure out what the man was asking. "Oh, um, no, I meant Jackson. I haven't slept lately, I'm afraid."

The senator nodded understandingly. "Aaron Barron, Senator for Wisconsin, and owner of this inherited old family house." He smirked. "If you were curious."

"I…um, yeah, I was curious."

Barron chuckled. He shifted the cardboard thing in his arms. "Well, I am going to just put this inside. I tutor a few children from my hometown and thought they might want to listen to this… but, that is inconsequential." He laughed. "Anyway, then I think we'll go to lunch, yes?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Sure. Whatever." What was wrong with him? Could he make himself look any more ridiculous? Thomas kept smiling.

As soon as Barron was out of sight, Mariah growled in frustration. "For heaven's sake, Jackson. You are a politician. Have a little tack."

Thomas patted his hair nervously. "I know. I'm just having an off day, I guess."

"Then stop that. We need this guy on our side when things get tight."

Thomas glared at her. "I know."

"Act like it."

He crossed his arms, intent on ignoring her, but she continued to glare with even more heat. After a second, he couldn't stand it. "Okay," he conceded with not a little sarcasm. "Yes, ma'am. Sheesh."

This one is a bit short, but more is on the way! Fun fact, the dream at the beginning is based on a true story (probably) about Thomas and Martha. Anyway. Hope you enjoyed this. Maybe leave a review?