Dear, Hamilton

Spy-In-Training

I tug the blanket off of me as I get up from the chair and stride towards the front door. When I look out the window beside the front door, I spot Hamilton standing by our two horses. I watch as he heaves a saddle onto my horse before buckling it to secure it onto the horse. He next slings a small pack onto the back of my horse behind the saddle before moving onto his own horse and doing the same.

He looks up as if sensing my stare, and catches sight of me standing by the window, watching him. Our eyes meet. Knowing there's no use in hiding anymore since he knows I'm awake, I open the door and head into the front yard.

It smells like rain outside, and the air is thick and heavy with moisture as the water evaporates from the ground. I wave a hand in front of my face to test if that helps with the steaminess to no avail. When I'm within eight feet of Hamilton and the horses, I stop. He casts me a careful glance, but he doesn't stop what he's doing. Instead, he stoops low to double check the saddle's buckles.

Finding it easier to talk with him stooped over like that and not facing me, I speak up, "I'm sorry."

His fingers still on the straps before he resumes his work. He says in a casual voice, "Why? Your points were all valid. Why would you want to be with me, an untrustworthy, poor, bastard orphan?"

 He stands up then, reaching up to his whole height. I realize just then how much taller he is than me. About six inches taller. He regards me with a wistful look before he quickly looks away. 

I burst into action, quickly protesting, "That's not true."

"Which part," he deadpans as he lifts his eyes to mine.

"The untrustworthy part. And the part where I don't want to be with you because you're an untrustworthy, poor, bastard orphan."

"Ah, so you admit you don't want to be with me. Those are just not the reason why." He tilts his head to the side, his face concerningly calm as he continues, "Tell me, what is the reason why you don't want me anymore?"

"No," I counter firmly, "I do want to be with you. Stop twisting my words." He only stares at me, waiting, so I continue, "One, I do trust you. I trust you with my life. And two, well I already said it."

"Say it again."

I let out a huff before I oblige and say, "I want to be with you. And I realize I overreacted earlier. I shouldn't have been angry at you." We stare at each other for a solid ten seconds, waiting for the other to break or recount on their opinion or promise.

"But you do know that I accept you as you are now, right?" Hamilton asks, raising a brow. "It's not like I'm pining for the old Eliza. I still love you."

"Yes, I get that now," I reply earnestly, wanting to be finished with our fight. "So, can we forget that ever happened?"

He stares at me for a moment before cracking his usual self-assured, confident smile and proclaiming, "Your wish is my command." 

And I know then that we've resolved our differences.

***

When we arrive back at the Pastures, everyone is in some state of panic. My mother lets out a cry of relief when she catches sight of Hamilton and me walking through the front door, and she dashes over to us.

"Where have you two been?" she demands as she brushes at my dress with a hand and then reaches over and fixes Hamilton's slightly skewed uniform jacket.

"Ah, I wanted to show Betsy something," Hamilton replies easily, and he discreetly shifts away from my mother's worried fingers.

"Pray tell, what did you want to show Eliza so badly that the two of you had to sneak out?" my mother asks firmly as she puts her hands on her hips.