Corset in Congress (A Hamilton Genderbend)

Chapter Thirty: Cabinet Battle #2

Jefferson's POV

Okay, so I know that last time was bad, but I swear this time I'll wipe the floor with her. Hopefully.

"The issue on the table: France is on the verge of war with England. And do we provide aid and our troops to our French allies, or do we stay out of it? Remember, my decision on this matter is not subject to Congressional approval," the President says, and the floor goes out from under me. What did he say? I didn't get the memo! Did James get the memo? Goddammit, why is my life such a mess? "The only person you have to convince is me." Nevermind. I can't win this. "Secretary Jefferson, you have the floor, sir."

I stand up, take a bow, and pray to every deity I can name. All I need to do is stick to what I practiced and it will all turn out okay. Here we go.

"When we were on death's door when we were needy," I begin, my voice strong despite my doubts, "we made a promise, we signed a treaty! We needed money and guns and half a chance! Who provided those funds?" I ask, letting the question hang guiltily in the air.

It's quiet for far too long. I look over at James, who is fiddling distractedly with his handkerchief. Sending a vicious elbow to his ribs, I start him into saying his line. "Um, France!" he says quickly and nervously, and I have to feel bad for the guy, and sorry that I was so violent with my limbs. He's trying his best, all because you asked him to, I remind myself, then continue.

"In return, they didn't ask for land. Only a promise that we'd lend a hand and stand with them if they fought against oppressors, and revolution is messy, but now is the time to stand!" I shout, earning wild shouts from the crowd, and their cheers give me spirit.

"Stand with our brothers as they fight against tyranny! I know that Alexandra Hamilton is here, and she would rather not have this debate," I say, lowering my voice and fake whispering to the people, who go absolutely nuts over it. "I'll remind you that she is NOT Secretary of State!" I shout, bring my cane down forcefully on the floor, sending a resounding "Boom!" throughout the room. Everyone goes quiet in anticipation.

Time for the cheap shots. Hey, she fought dirty last time, so I'll do the same. "She knows nothing of loyalty! Smells like new money, dresses like fake royalty! Desperate to rise above her station! Everything she does betrays the ideals of our nation!" I shout, and the building reaches a climax. Right before everything boils over, I calm it by saying confidently, "Hey, and if you don't know, know you know, Mr. President."

President Washington aims a confused look at me, like he's impressed yet disappointed. Shrugging, I take my seat. I've done my best. He says tiredly, "Thank you, Secretary Jefferson. Secretary Hamilton, your response."

It's silent for an age, which is strange for Hamilton, who never shuts up. The crowd is yelling at her, some encouraging and some disparaging, all wanting her to go ahead and say her piece.

"You must be out of your GODDAMN mind," she screams at last, blowing out everyone's eardrums at once, "if you think the President is going to bring the nation to the brink of meddling in the middle of a military mess, a game of chess where France is Queen and King-less!"

Turning to me, she doesn't alter her volume one notch, and I find myself squirming in my seat, using every ounce of self-respect I have not to show weakness, which is proving difficult, as her voice is slowly converting my mind to mush.

"We signed a treaty with a King whose head is now in a basket! Would you like to take it out as ask it, 'Should we honour our treaty, King Louis' head?'" She looks at me with soft brown eyes that quickly morph into daggers when she finishes her childish insult with, "'Uh, do whatever you want, I'M SUPER DEAD!'"

Once again I find myself on my feet, ready to tear her apart with my bear hands, but once again Washington has me held firmly. "Enough!" he yells directly in my ear, and I cower away from the small thunderclap. "Hamilton is right!"

No, no she is not. She has never been more wrong! Twisting out of his grip, I say, aghast, "Mr. President!"

"We're too fragile to start another fight!"

Grinding my teeth, I search for another angle. "But, sir," I protest, "do we not fight for freedom?"

The President shrugs good-naturedly, and I wonder how much trouble I'd be in if I ripped his head clean off his shoulders, making light of this serious affair. He says, "Sure, when the French figure out who's gonna lead them!"

Are we seeing the same thing? Are we looking at the same picture. "The people are leading--"

"The people are rioting!" Washington has lost all patience, and has resorted to raising his voice, and I know that this discussion is over. "There's a difference. Frankly, it's a little disquieting you would let your ideals blind you to reality!" Ouch. "Hamilton!"

"Sir!" she responds, confident and cocky, and it's the worst sound I've ever heard.

He gives her an instruction, then leaves, instigation the outflow of the spectators. I get consoling pats on the back and reassuring comments, but Washington's words still ring in my ears. "Draft a statement of neutrality."

Soon we are the only two left. She makes a move to leave, but I block her path with a sudden determination. "Did you forget Lafayette?" I demand, my thoughts filled with my French brother fighting far away, struggling and striving just to survive. I remember that he would always say, "It doesn't matter what happens; I was given a promise, and Alexandra will never forsake me." Well, Judas promised too.

She stops, crossing her arms in defiance, asking dangerously, "What?"

"Have you an ounce of regret?" Silence. Ah-ha. She knows she's a back-stabbing traitor. Interesting. "You accumulate debt, you accumulate power, yet in their hour of need, you forget."

Fire flashes in Hamilton's eyes, and shame. She reasons it away airily, waving a hand to accentuate how little it really matters in the "big picture" or whatever. Bullshit. "Lafayette's a smart man, he'll be fine. And before he was your friend, he was mine." And you left him for dead. A+ friendship, right there. "If we try to fight in every revolution in the world, we never stop. Where do we draw the line?"

"So quick-witted," I laugh, shaking my head at the stubbornness.

"Alas, I admit it."

I scoff at the arrogance, then say with poison in my voice, "I bet you were quite a lawyer."

"My defendants got acquitted," she says with fake humility.

"Yeah." I pause for a moment, then lean in close and whisper, "Well, someone ought to remind you."

"What?" she asks, eyes curious but still wary.

I hesitate a moment longer, then say devilishly, "You're nothing without Washington behind you."

Every muscle in her body stiffens, and I watch in amusement as she fights against herself. She opens her mouth to scream, but from far off, we hear the man himself call her name. I smile even wider, praising all the deities for this miracle they've granted me.

"Daddy's calling," I whisper, making shooing motions with my hands, and watch in delight as she grinds her teeth, then spins slowly on her heel and speedwalks out of the room, tense as a spring.

Oh, I might not have won, but that was beautiful.