CHAPTER XXIV
"I was thinking of going to Monticello next week," Thomas hummed quietly to James while scribbling one of the many letters he had to send, "since Adams is here for once, we could start our Christmas holidays a couple of weeks earlier. What do you think?"
"Actually, that's not a terrible idea, I miss Dolley," Madison sighed, thinking of his wife, "but while my reason to rush home is more than acceptable, why would you want to go away earlier?"
"No reason."
"You can't lie to me, Thomas."
"Ugh," Thomas groaned, looking up from his letters, "all right, do you want me to say it out loud?"
"Please."
"I can't face Hamilton after what I did, James," he complained, "when his wife called him back to New York last month I thought that maybe I hadn't completely messed up with his life, but then he came back with all his luggage and I – I don't know, I have to go away."
"Again?" James raised an inquisitional eyebrow.
"Hey, Monticello it's my healing place," Thomas answered, a bit surprised by his friend's remark, "you should understand me, you're always complaining about missing Virginia."
"Yeah, but while you're hiding in Monticello to lick your wounds, do you ever happen to think about the people you leave behind?"
Thomas frowned, searching for something to say. In the end, he simply shook his head and returned to his letters, without answering – after all, he and Hamilton had been apart for more than four years, and he'd already ruined Alexander's life... so what could ever happen in a short time-span of a month anyway?
Alexander was alone in the world. Again. He knew he had the strength to go on – he'd been strong enough to take care of himself when he was only twelve; he'd been brave and resilient during the war and again during the years when he'd supported the Constitution and their newborn nation; even more when he'd had to go against Thomas to stand for his ideals. But, after marrying Eliza, he'd thought he was finally part of a family again –the Schuyler's family – and now that hope had gone away forever. It had disappeared the moment when Eliza had called him back to NYC and had asked him if Maria was the only person he'd been cheating on her with. Alexander had hesitated. And Eliza had understood.
"Does this have something to do with your infidelity?" she sobbed, waving an object that made Alexander freeze on the spot.
As usual, the truth was plainly written on his guilty face, and he didn't have to answer to confirm Eliza's suspects – she was waving an embroidered tissue, with the initials "T.J." on a corner.
"It's not what you think," Alex started to say, his voice trembling so much he had to pause before going on, "you're misunderstanding the –
"Don't lie to me Alexander," Eliza stopped him, looking up with sad and imploring eyes, "don't I deserve the truth?"
She deserved it, of course she deserved the truth – but that would mean to break her heart and be probably denounced for sodomy. A lot of women accused their husbands in order to gain revenge after being cheated on. Was it his destiny? Could Eliza really do something like that to him?
"Yes, honey, you deserve the world," he sighed, defeated.
That night, he confessed everything to her, from James Reynolds to Thomas Jefferson. He gave her the means to send him to prison, or even to death, if she wanted to. He promised her that he wouldn't cheat on her anymore, neither with men nor women. But Eliza had always known him better than himself, and this time too she was more perceptive than he'd expected.
"Do you love me?" she sobbed, shocked by the news, "have you ever loved me?"
"My sweet, sweet Eliza, of course I love you," Alexander hugged her gently, "I love you more than anything in the world, it's just that –
"It's not enough," she concluded, hugging him back.
"I'm sorry, I've never wanted to hurt you," Alex sobbed with her.
"Do you still love… him?"
Silence.
"I do."
She had sent him away. She was angry and hurt and needed time to deal with everything. But she'd swore that she wouldn't expose him nor Thomas, and had told him that he was free to love anyone he wanted – she would always be by his side, she'd said. He didn't deserve such a wonderful human being in his life, Alexander was utterly sure of that, and he'd returned to Philadelphia with a mixture of confused emotions and an intense loneliness that followed him everywhere he went.
He was drinking alone at the pub on Christmas Eve. Eliza's last letter had given him some hope, she seemed to be slightly less angry at him, but she hadn't asked him to join them for Christmas and so he'd stayed in Philadelphia during the break, spending his days mostly working until he fell asleep – occasionally drinking till he fell asleep. He didn't know many people in the capital and most of his co-workers had gone home for the holidays, so he had no one to spend Christmas Eve with, and he'd decided to go to the pub – strangers' company was better than no company at all. He had just asked for another beer when –
"Alexander?"
"Aaron Burr, sir," – shit, what had he done to deserve all this pain? – "what are you doing here?"
"I always spend the holidays here," he shrugged and then added with a sad tone, "or at least since my dear Theodosia passed away three years ago – I don't have any family to spent Christmas with"
"Shit Burr, I didn't know that," Alexander lied – of course he knew it, but he'd never really considered Burr's situation, "do you want to join me?"
"Are you sure?"
"Hell yes, it's Christmas, we can put our resentment aside for once."
Burr happily took the seat next to him and sipped his quietly beer for a couple of minutes. They remained silent for a while, it was nice to have company, even if it was only Burr.
"Alexander," he spoke after he'd finished his beer, "I want to tell you I'm sorry for the accusations on the paper."
"I don't want to talk about –
"Thomas made me publish that shit," he continued, looking abashed and regretful, "when I found the check stubs I thought about talking with you, but then Madison and Jefferson told me to wait for a more propitious moment."
Alexander literally stopped breathing for a minute – it was true, Thomas had told him the same story.
"And after becoming vice president, he's asked me to threaten you first, and to publish the accusations when you didn't step back," he continued, looking carefully to catch every reaction, "I'm sorry, Alexander, I know we haven't been the best of friends lately but I want to make it right, if you'll let me"
"I – I don't know what to say," Alexander tried to control his expression in order not to give too much away, but he was astounded by Aaron's words, "I knew that Jefferson wanted me out, but I thought you were working with him, and not for him."
"Well, I'm done working for Jefferson," Burr replied quickly, "Madison and I did everything we could to try and stop him, but he really hates you."
"I know."
"Can you forgive me?"
"I don't know, Burr."
"Can I buy you another beer at least?"
"That would do."
Madison knocked on the front door once more before snorting and heading to Monticello's back door, trying not to think about the last time he'd seek Thomas in the backyard and had found him making out with Hamilton.
"Thomas?"
"In the greenhouse," Thomas's voice called him.
James slowly entered the room, carefully avoiding all the vases and gardening tools scattered around, and silently observed his friend for some minutes. Thomas was planting some new seeds into the freshly ploughed garden, the sleeves of his jacket were rolled up to his elbows and his hands were digging in the dirt. His curly hair was secured into a ponytail and a relaxed smile was lighting up his sweaty face. Thomas had been so gloomy lately that James had almost forgotten how beautiful his best friend was when he smiled.
"It's nice to see you happy, Tom."
"Ah – but you're here to take me back to Philadelphia though," Thomas joked, even if a dark shadow suddenly covered his eyes at the thought of leaving Monticello, "I'll be ready in an hour or so."
"Is there any particular reason why I had to come all the way here to drag you back to work?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Thomas are we friends?" James sighed in exasperation, "can I be honest with you?"
"Of course, Jamie" Thomas looked back at him with a doubtful face.
"You're being a complete idiot." James seldom gave his opinion without being asked to, but when he did it, he was brutally sincere, "you refused to talk to Hamilton and walked away once, and now you're making the same stupid mistake that you claim to have regretted. I know you, Thomas, and you've always been all about communicating with others, trying to understand other people's point of view – what's changed?"
"James, I made that one mistake years ago, but then it's led to other millions of little mistakes that have eventually ruined Hamilton's life – if I'd stayed away from him, that wouldn't have happened."
"Do you honestly think that his life would have been happier without you?"
"Maybe? I don't know, James –
"Do you really think that being away right now is the best thing to do?"
"Why do you care so much?" Thomas retorted angrily, knowing that James was telling the truth, "why should you care about Hamilton?"
"I don't particularly care about him, but I care about my best friend's happiness," James answered calmly, placing his hand on Thomas's shoulder, "Thomas, I was there when Martha died. You completely fell apart despite all my efforts to help you. I've tried to be a good friend but it simply wasn't enough."
"You've been the best of friends, James."
"But then, some years ago, when I discovered about you and Hamilton, you told me something that I'll never forget – you said you were finally able to breathe again for the first time after Martha's death, and to think of her without being overwhelmed by grief."
"Yeah, I remember that night," Thomas said quietly, "you foresaw the end of our relationship, and you were right."
"And when I warned you, you told me that you and Hamilton didn't care about your differences because you loved each other," James countered, "I've been right only because you two have never really faced your problems – hell, you're avoiding to talk about it even now – and in the end the situation has simply backfired on you. I think that if only you had talked with him, you would have overcome anything."
"Are you, like, cheering for us?" Thomas tried to laugh to hide his pain, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Thomas, think about it – you've lost Martha and there's nothing you can do right now to have her back. But Hamilton is alive and he still loves you."
"You can't know it."
"Yes, I can."
"What – how could you be so sure?"
"Well, I talked with him two years ago, the summer when he came to Monticello to talk with you," Madison confessed, "I was on my way here when I met him – he was a complete mess, couldn't stop crying and I offered him lunch."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he asked me not to. He clearly needed someone to talk with, and I happened to be the only person that knew about your relationship," James explained, "and so we talked."
"What did he say?" Thomas crossed his arms and tried not to appear too desperate.
"Let's just say that he reiterated the feelings he'd already stated on that famous New Year's Eve – nothing has changed for him Thomas, he still loves you; he's probably waiting for you right now."
"But that was more than two years ago, and I've made other mistakes," Thomas hesitated, "I don't think he's still so keen to love me now."
"Well, you have only one way to find out, right?"
Thomas looked at James with fondness – he'd never been comfortable talking about love, let alone his best friend's love life with the former Treasury Secretary – and a genuine smile lit his face.
"You're a great friend, James, you know that?"
"I do my best," he smiled back, "are you ready to go back to Philadelphia?"
"I've never been readier," Thomas felt his heart floating, "let's go get Alexander back."
Notes:
YES! So, thank you James for making Thomas face the truth at last. What do you think it will happen next? I want to know your theories :D
