Corset in Congress (A Hamilton Genderbend)

Chapter Twenty: Yorktown

The battle of Yorktown. 1781.

Alexandra's POV

I'm finally here, on the battlefield, doing what I was meant to do, what I dreamt of doing. Fighting for freedom, constructing my legacy bit by bit. Breathing in the crisp fall air, I decide this is the day when my life truly begins.

"Madame Hamilton!" I hear from behind me, and I turn to see a certain Frenchman coming my way, the widest smile threatening to break his face in two.

I mirror his expression, embracing him when he finally reaches me. "Monsieur Lafayette!" I ignore the fact that he is more careful around me than usual, and is very cautious when he hugs me. I'm about to tell him off for it when he lets go, tell him that I'm not delicate, and he's not going to break me in half, but he keeps talking to me.

"In command where you belong!"

I decide to let it go, and poke a little fun at him instead, "How you say, no sweat," mimicking his accent perfectly. I push him playfully in the arm to show I mean no disrespect. "We're finally on the field, we've had quite a run," I say, just like we practiced, and his eyes light up.

Lafayette starts it off. "Immigrants:"

"We get the job done!" high-fiving, we say the last part together. Lafayette came up with it just before the Laurens-Lee duel, when Washington sent me home, and he's been waiting for a chance to use it ever since.

Quickly I change the subject, before he can launch into another of his creations. "What happens if we win?" I ask, but the "if" is more of a "when" in my mind. Alexandra Hamilton doesn't lose.

"I go back to France," Lafayette says, like it should be obvious. It is, but I'm not about to tell him that. "I give freedom to my people if I'm given the chance."

Nodding in agreement, I assure him, "We'll be with you when you do."

I see his eyes glisten for a moment, but then he pushes me away. "Go, lead your men," but he's not angry. Instead he's amused, and a bit overwhelmed with the promise of support I've just given him.

"I'll see you on the other side," I start, but he waves the farewells away with a scoff.

He says simply, "'Til we meet again!" Then he turns to his group of men, and leads them away, roaring, "Let's go!"

After he's out of my sight, I reflect back on that night in the bar again, with my friends, particularly the part I said. I am not throwing away my shot! I am not throwing away my shot! I'm just like my country, I'm young, scrappy and hungry, and I'm not throwing away my shot! I am not throwing away my shot!

"'Til the world turns upside down!" I shout to my soldiers. The British will not control us forever. Yes, some of us won't make it, but our country will be a better place for the ones that do. They pick up on this, and shout back, "'Til the world turns upside down!"

I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. This is where it gets me: on my feet, the enemy ahead of me? If this is the end of me, at least I have a friend with me, a weapon in my hand and my men with me.

Then I remember my Elijah's expecting me. Not only that, my Elijah's expecting us! Looking down at my stomach, I can't pretend that this child isn't important. I can't pretend I'm eager to die a martyr. I can't pretend that the loss of either of us would tear my husband apart, nevermind the loss of us both.

Turning to my men, I make the conscious decision that I want more that a legacy, I want a life, with my family. I want us to be happy, to be safe. "We gotta go, gotta get the job done! Gotta start a new nation, gotta meet my son!