Chapter 9

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A/N:

OK, so this chapter gives some insights into both Alexander and Thomas's feelings. Not a lot of action but a huge discovery at the end!
Let me know if you were expecting it or not, and if you like it!

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Weeks passed by in a blur, Alexander spent the rest of the summer meeting with different committees in order to define every single detail of his financial plan – and then spent the rest of the year stressing. On December 15th, he finally submitted his request and waited. It was only after another infinite two months of agony that Washington finally received the all clear from the Congress, and signed the bill into law. Alexander felt as if he had never really breathed before – he had secured his legacy at last; now, he just had to protect it.

It was not as if he hadn't had work to do in the meantime – he'd had to think about all the practical issues that would have emerged after adopting a mercantile economy policy; he'd had to find the easiest and most affordable way to support manufacturing in order not to depend on Britain anymore; and many other problems. Moreover, he'd finally found himself at loggerheads with Burr: his former friend had sharply criticized his latter decisions, and now he was a senator candidate, running against Hamilton's father-in-law, supported by – wait for it – the Democratic-Republican party.

Alexander couldn't believe the news when he'd heard it, he would have gone to Jefferson to blame him for Burr's actions, but, first of all, he knew it was all Burr's fault – he'd always been cunning and sneaky when he had to gain benefits for himself; and then, Thomas Jefferson hadn't talked to him since that dinner. They had met, of course, but they hadn't found themselves face to face anymore, nor had they had the opportunity to meet again outside work. Once, Alex had tried to go and invade his house again, but this time the maid had been prepared: she'd just leaned out of the window, telling him that Jefferson wasn't home, without even opening the door. Another time, no one had answered at all. At first, he'd really believed that Jefferson had been busy, but the more Thomas seemed to avoid him, the more Alex grew certain that his previous behaviour had been only a trick to soften him before the dinner.

He'd got mad, then upset, then angry again – he actually didn't know what to think, too many thing were happening at the same time. Eliza had returned, happy and relaxed, and even more loving and caring than before, making him feel horrible for what he'd done. He'd tried to end his affair a couple of times, but every single time he'd failed, finding himself heading toward the Reynolds after a tough week at work, the guilt pressing on his heart, heavier and heavier. One of those evenings, he was going there after work – he'd told Eliza he had a late meeting – but decided to take another route so that he would pass by Jefferson's house. He hadn't seen Thomas in a week and was starting to feel restless; after all those months he had grown used to ignore him and be ignored... but that didn't mean that his feelings were gone. He was still attracted by his eyes – every time Jefferson wasn't looking right at him, he would peek at his face, remembering the night when Thomas had briefly conquered his eyes and heart like if it had been the day before.

Alexander was walking quickly, he'd just turned into the main street and could already see Jefferson's house from a distance. He stayed on the opposite side on the street, scanning the house and its surrounding, focusing on each window – hoping to see a glimpse of Thomas's hair, but he couldn't see anything. However, while stepping right in front of the house he heard a sound coming from inside – was it music? He slowed down his pace and concentrated on the notes, letting the extremely sad melody warming his heart. Alexander almost stopped there. He knew that it was Jefferson playing his violin, and it seemed like the calling of a mermaid for him. He just wanted to burst into the house and go to him. Instead, he forced himself to walk faster, going away from where he wanted to be, and heading towards the place he despised the most. The music suddenly stopped, helping him to carry on without turning back till the Reynolds's house. He changed his route several times – he was growing paranoid and every time was more and more afraid to be discovered. This time he actually felt that weird feeling on the back of his neck, as if someone was observing him, but no one was in sight. He approached the door, still casting glances all around, and finally knocked.

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