Chapter 8
The next few weeks followed in a similar fashion. He withdrew from his friends, but the stress of the war allowed it to be overlooked. Alexander was grateful for his involvement in the organization of the revolution. While he wasn't in command of his own troops, he was able to add his two cents into the orchestration of the whole affair. Because while Washington was making his life hell, it was worth it in Alex's mind, as long as he got to rise above his station. This would happen to him regardless, so he might as well gain what he wanted out of it.
Hamilton took over all of the menial paperwork, as well as the majority of Washington's correspondents. He followed him to all of his meetings and was always kept close by. Whenever the general fancied it, he served him. Whether that be before breakfast, after a meeting, or in the dead of night. There were few variations, and the repetitiveness of it made it easier for Alexander. He got better at anticipating what George needed, and how to please him efficiently. It became easier for him to remember to wear his neckerchief so as to hide the bites and dark bruised skin beneath. He was teased for it, however he wasn't around the other soldiers enough for them to have much opportunity. However, it was during one of the rare times when Alexander had a moment to himself when Burr flat out confronted him.
The secretary had been sitting by the river, half hidden by the trees. Having just come from the general's service Alexander was tired, and was feeling the dull throb of self-disgust that always came after. Washington had to overlook some new recruits, which didn't need his attention. Thus, he had taken his small stack of letters to answer out by the water, hoping to soothe some of his physical and mental pain. He was hot, but he dared not loosen his clothes, lest someone see what was hidden underneath. He was sitting in the shade when he heard footsteps behind him, but they were far too light to be his keeper, so he allowed himself to remain calm.
"What has Washington's prized pony out alone?"
"Burr." Hamilton turned to meet the man's eyes.
"Hamilton, you look like shit. Is the work too much for you?" Burr prodded, smugness and concern fighting behind his eyes.
"I have it under control, thank you very much. Don't you have anything better to do than to pester me?" Alexander shot back, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.
"Do you think you're better than us?" Burr asked, eyeing him.
"What?" Hamilton asked, caught off guard by the question.
"Ever since you got that position you have been buttoned to the neck and have that damned thing around your neck." Aaron ranted. "Even now, you're clearly uncomfortable, but you refuse to show any sort of cracks in that ridiculous facade. As though you're above it."
"Now you listen-"
"No! I'm sick of it. You're a little creole shit who thinks he's all that because Washington chose him over his betters." Burr was red in the face, glaring at the younger man.
"You have no idea what you're talking about. Keep your mouth shut and sit back, that's what you're good at." Hamilton spat back, having risen from his seated position to stand before the raging man.
"You self-entitled bastard!" Burr lunged forward, but instead of swinging at him as Alex expected, Aaron grabbed the cloth surrounding his neck.
"No! Burr, stop!" Alexander pleaded, but he was ignored as Burr wrestled with him, trying to rip the fabric off of him. Despite his best efforts, the older man managed to dislodge it from his throat. Stumbling back from the force, Hamilton barely kept himself from falling. He looked up at Burr, fire burning in his gaze. He saw the triumphant look in Burr's eyes dull once Aaron saw what he had revealed. A collage of blue, green, and purples covered the young neck, deep teeth marks peppering his skin. Traces of dried blood could be seen around the particularly vicious ones. Bruises that clearly took the shape of fingers were snaked around his throat as well. The overall effect was ugly, and horrified the winner.
"Give. It. Back." Hamilton ground out through gritted teeth.
"I-I didn't- what, who did th-" Burr spluttered.
"Fucking give it to me!" Alex seethed, trembling with a mix of anger, fear, and shame. Burr numbly held it out to the other man, watching silently as he hurriedly wrapped it around his neck once more, tucking it fiercely in place. Once Hamilton had secured it around his throat, he placed his gaze once again on Aaron. As Burr opened his mouth, Alexander cut him off. "This doesn't concern you. So leave it. We are both better off if you keep your mouth shut. If you tell anyone, I will end you. Forget it."