Hamilton One Shots

Love Marks (4)

Requested by: multi-fanDOOM
OC: Abigail Livingstone

The moment she had been whisked from the streets and into civilization again, Abigail felt like another woman. Silk covered her body in gowns, hair done up in elaborate designs, and her eyes gleaming with delight.

Thomas certainly knew how to keep a woman satisfied, as he brought her along on business occasions and to enchanting events.

But despite being tossed onto a throne of excellence, Abigail loved the times the two of them ventured back to his home and were surrounded by books and fields of crops. She would let herself sink into the bed, while Thomas wrote at his desk.

One particular evening he murmured into her ear, with such honesty, "I love you. No one could ever capture my heart the way you do, dearest." And then their lips met and Abigail hadn't been able to reply. But little did she know, things would go back downhill from there for both of them.

Four months passed since that evening. In that time, something terrible had been discovered by the public. Abigail learned the news from a newspaper, not even the man she was living with. The man who had an affair with his slave.

The man she thought she trusted.

Crouched on the floor of his study, she found herself sobbing beside the fireplace. Papers kept flying into the flames from her hands, one by one. At one point she considered tossing herself in there as well, to end the unbearable betrayal she felt.

Tears trickled down her cheeks as she shrieked with every crackle of the fire. Licking up the remains of her correspondence, his own pieces, and the reminder of their love, the flames were unforgiving. Abigail buckled over on her knees, hand brushing against the colored flames.

A scream of pain left her lips. Clutching the wound, she cursed out loud. "Damn it!" Her reflection flickered in the dancing colors in the fireplace and she couldn't help but step away.

From behind her, the door to the study opened and she heard footsteps. "Abigail?" Not responding, she leaned back to the papers with her good hand and tossed a pile in. The footsteps quickened to her side and she heard a panicked, "Abigail, please-"

"No!" Her hands slammed down on the floor, followed by even more tears. Unable to formulate any words, the broken mistress clung to her stomach, rocking back and forth on her heels. The figure behind her hesitated before wrapping his arms around her.

"Thomas, no," she managed to say. His hands stayed on her stomach, slowly gliding up to her chest. Those were the hands that touched another woman, just like he had done to her.

Abigail shoved him away. "If you ever loved me, show some respect, and leave me alone."

The flames crackled loudly, but there was no mistaking the sound of the man behind her breathing heavily. She couldn't see his face, but she assumed he was falling apart. "I've never stopped loving you. I-I just-"

"Got tired of me? Needed more pleasure?! You have always been the demanding type. I pray for that girl you snatched up. What pain she must be in." Abigail shut her eyes. She had no hatred towards the woman involved in the affair, only Thomas. He had been the one to lie to her senselessly, not the slave.

"She didn't-" Thomas tried to speak but then stopped himself. Anything he said would only make things worse, if that was even possible.

One of his hands gripped her hand tightly, making her wince. But she didn't refuse it for one second. Maybe it was because she was already numb from the pain he caused her. Or maybe it was because she still hadn't given up.

"Abigail," he whispered, voice cracking slightly as he spoke. Her body tensed at the sound. She picked up another sheet of parchment and tossed it sharply into the fire. Thomas flinched at the sight. But he had no power to stop her.

She flicked another letter into the fire. His eyes widened as he recognized it. That had been one of their first letters of correspondence. It had been the one to start their whole affair and life together.

Thomas felt his heart break, but he didn't let her see the pain. He titled his head up towards the ceiling, swallowing hard. As much as he tried convince himself none of it was happening, it was becoming difficult to.

He reached out to grab one from her hand and she snapped at him. "Don't! Let me have this satisfaction, even if it's the last I'll ever have."

Abigail chucked the parchment into the fireplace, hearing him whimper beside her. She didn't care if every flick of her wrist was hurting his heart. All she cared about was making sure every gesture of their love was destroyed. It obviously didn't mean that much anymore to Thomas.

Halfway through the stack of writings, she broke down. Her cries became melodic echoes around the room. Body shaking uncontrollably, she covered her face. It had all been lies.

Thomas watched her intently. Any sudden movement would make her snap, so he stayed put. But the longer he watched her suffer in her own pain, he finally gave in and reached to grab her waist.

At his touch, her body flinched, but she was too weak to fight back. He pulled her up against his chest, letting her sobs become muffled noises in his waistcoat. Rubbing a hand up and down her back, he whispered soothing and meaningless things in her ear.

Abigail knew it was wrong after all he did to be so weak and accepting to him. But no one else was there to comfort her. The more she lay in is arms, the tighter she clung to his body, shaking and praying he wouldn't leave.

As she wished, the rest of the night, the two of them stayed wrapped in one another's arms, both completely in tears. The morning could only promise their parting or joining ways, but it couldn't promise what they'd keep close to their hearts for the rest of their lives.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
A/N: Thank you multi-fanDOOM for the request! I loved writing more of this plot, just as I did for the other three parts! A little twist in this one, but hope you liked it!