Corset in Congress (A Hamilton Genderbend)

Chapter Nineteen: History Has its Eyes on You

Washington's POV

Alexandra stands in front of my desk, at perfect attention despite the baby bump, and I curse myself silently. I'm sending a pregnant woman into battle. Hell has a special place for me.

"I was younger that you are now," I say to her, offering her the best advice I have, "when I was given my first command. I led my men straight into a massacre," she lets out an involuntary gasp, and I lower my head. "I witnessed their deaths firsthand."

It's imperative she understands this about war, about me. If she's to lead, there are harsh truths she needs to learn. I lower my gaze, and continue, "I made every mistake, and felt the shame rise in me, and even now I lie awake, knowing history has its eyes on me."

When I look up, I see her straighten, and repeat my words back to me. "History has its eyes on me," she whispers. I nod, seeing the message has sunk in. 

"Let me tell you what I wish I'd known, when I was young and dreamed of glory." I rise from my seat, and take the sword that was resting on my desk. Resting it in the palms of my hands, I hold it out towards Alexandra. She reaches a hand out to grasp it, and I snatch it away. "You have no control: who lives, who dies, who tells your story."

I know about what Alexandra, John, Hercules and Lafayette have been saying, their bluster and boasts about the heroes they'll be, the tales that will be told about them, painting them in the role of saviours and champions. How wrong they are, thinking they can shape the world around them to suit their fantasies.

Her hand falls to her side, and I look her dead in the eye, holding the stare until I see understanding in her eyes, and Alexandra drops her head.

"I know that we can win. I know that greatness lies in you," I say, smiling a little as her head snaps up in surprise, not expecting the praise I'm giving her. "But remember from here on in, history has its eyes on you."

Now, finally, I give her the sword, and she sheaths it, smiling back at me. It never ceases to amaze me; even in the face of such a bleak future, people like Alexandra can find it within themselves to smile. Grasping her hand, I make eye contact with her, and an unspoken message passes between us. She stands a little taller as she salutes. 

Impulsively, I salute her back, and I see the shock on her face before she turns and exits the building. In the peace that fills the quiet, empty room, I amend my previous statement.

History has its eyes on us.