Heads or Tails? - Jamilton/Hamlaf

Th Jefferson

Warnings: Heartbreak. Saltiness

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Monroe stood frozen, the paper still in his hand but he had receded into his thoughts. Half of him wanted to break down and embrace the man for finally reappearing, unharmed, and never have truly abandoning Monroe, he'd always been there. But the other half of him was furious.

"Lafayette. Wake up." When Lafayette didn't move, Monroe grabbed a pitcher of water and dumped it onto his face.

Lafayette shot up, sputtering and reaching for the pistol that wasn't at his hip. "James?" His accent was gone, like it usually is when he wakes up, funny how no one has noticed that before.

"Good morning, Thomas. How are you today?" Monroe asked, setting down the pitcher.

"Soaking wet, what's the meaning of this?" Jefferson asked angrily, just as anyone would be if they were asleep for only an hour after several days of no sleep only to be woken with a pitcher of water. "There's obviously not an emergency so explain yourself."

Monroe snapped the paper so Jefferson could see exactly what it was and held it out for him, "Thomas Jefferson."

All the blood in Jefferson's face drained as his eyes stuck to the letter and then flickered up to Monroe's.

Jefferson must've decided something right then because any anxiety he may have had outwardly disappeared. He stood from the bed and went over to the water basin to wash his face. Monroe stood silently, watching him as he tugged the ribbon from his hair so that it poofed out. Was Jefferson tying back his hair really all it took to fool the world? Jefferson's fingers ran through his curls, savoring the feeling of letting it down.

"Explain yourself, Jefferson. Tell me why," Monroe said coldly.

"First, I'm going to change out of these wet clothes," Jefferson replied, shucking off his outer coat.

"No, we're having this conversation now."

"By all means, go ahead," Jefferson said, undoing his shirt, facing away from Monroe.

"Three years. It's been three years since you disappeared. Hardly a word until Brandywine. I didn't hear a word from you until after Brandywine, after you ran into me. Was I so easily forgotten?"

Jefferson turned and looked at him, his shirt in his hands. "Of course not, but it's hard to explain."

"I've got all night, Thomas," Monroe said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jefferson donned a new shirt that hung down to mid thigh. "When I started out as Lafayette, I repressed all my memories. I didn't remember being Jefferson. Not until Madison wrote me a letter explaining everything and that didn't happen until I was recovering in the hospital." Jefferson tossed his pants onto the bed.

"You told Madison and not me?"

"I wanted to disappear. I didn't even want Madison to know, but someone had to."

"And I suppose that-"

"Lafayette! We need to talk!" Hamilton said, bursting through the door without knocking. Jefferson's first instinct was to turn around so Hamilton couldn't see his face while he tied up his hair. Monroe whirled around to see who had burst in and Hamilton stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the sight of a half naked Lafayette in the same room as a fully clothed Monroe. "What the hell is going on in here?" Hamilton asked. Was it what he thought it was? Please God, don't let it be what he thought it was.

"Monroe, we can talk more about this later," he said before Monroe could say a word, his perfect French accent back in place. Monroe cussed him out in his mind as he pushed past Hamilton and out the door, closing it behind him.

"Okay, he seems angry, what did you do? Did you have sex with him and then send him packing out the door like me? Because if-"

"Alexander, please, that's not what happened."

"Okay, then explain why you're standing half naked with another man in the room."

Lafayette seemed to be explaining himself to everyone these days. "He came in and poured a pitcher of water on my face. I wanted dry clothes. He didn't leave to let me change and I'm not shy."

Hamilton laughed, "I wish I had been the one pouring the water. That would have been great."

"You're a horrible person."

"Are you going to put on your breeches?"

"Feeling exposed?" Lafayette grinned.

"I don't care, I've seen it all before. But we need to talk about what you said right before you took off."

"Non," Lafayette resisted. "Non, not that. Anything but that."

"Laf, we've got to talk about what happened."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't do that, Alexander."

"I'm not leaving here without an answer."

"Then I'll leave."

"Without your pants?"

Lafayette grabbed his pants and yanked them on, tucking in his shirt. Hamilton took the opportunity to block the doorway. "This is childish," Lafayette announced.

"You're not getting out of this conversation. Tell me why you don't want to talk about it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Goddamnit, Alexander."

"I'm not giving up."

"You never do."

"Laf."

"Can't you see? I can't fall in love with you and then disappear from your life forever!"

Hamilton was quiet for a moment before softly saying, "Then don't. Don't disappear. Don't go back to France after the war. Stay here, with me."

"It doesn't work like that."

Hamilton walked forward and took Lafayette's hands in his. "Why not? It's as simple as just never going back."

"I have to. My nation needs me." Lafayette wasn't talking as Lafayette anymore. He was Thomas Jefferson with a French accent and his hair in a bun.

"I need you."

"Alexander," Lafayette pleaded, "please, don't say such things."

"But it's the truth," Hamilton said. "Lafayette, I need you."

Everything in Jefferson broke. He disentangled his hands and stepped away, turning his back on Hamilton. "Go. Just, please go."

"Laf-"

"Leave."

Hamilton hesitated before leaving, the door softly closing behind him. Jefferson walked over to his desk and looked down at his work. Why was he so stupid? He knew this could happen but he did it anyway. His hands clenched as he tried to keep from crying. He was so angry at himself. How could he let himself do this? How could he cause Hamilton such pain? He swept his arm across his desk, sending things flying across the room. Metal banged off the wall, melted wax splattered across his hands and spilled on the letters he was going to seal with it. His quills went all over the floor and the ink wells smashed, staining everything black. He sank to the floor and held his head in hands as hot tears streaked down his face.

Monroe had made his way back to Lafayette's cabin the moment Hamilton left. He was standing just outside when loud crashing noises sounded from within. The door silently opened slightly as Monroe poked his head in to see what was going on. He did not expect to see what he saw.

Closing the door again, Monroe walked away, deciding he forgave Jefferson for what he had done. He wasn't happy with him, but he forgave him.