Corset in Congress (A Hamilton Genderbend)

Chapter Thirty-One: Washington On Your Side

Burr's POV

After that train wreck of a cabinet meeting, I linger in the shadows, just watching. I see and hear everything that Jefferson and Alexandra say, all the blows they exchange. I wince and cheer (in my head, of course) and watch her get torn apart. 

Politics is great.

She storms out, and Jefferson is the only one remaining, staring blankly at the door she's just slammed shut, hands half-clenched at his sides. And in that moment, gazing on a man who's never used to take any shit but knows he can't win, it strikes me that, no matter what I do, I will never be seen as Alexandra's equal.

"It must be nice," I say quietly, walking up to Jefferson, placing a hand on his slumped shoulder, "to have Washington on your side." He looks at me, then back at the door, and I say again, softer this time, "It must be nice to have Washington on your side."

It's silent for a long minute, then Jefferson explodes, all raw emotion. Starting off relatively subdued, he spits, "Every action's got an equal, opposite reaction. Thanks to Hamilton, our cabinet's fractured into factions. Trying not to break under the stress, we're breaking down like fractions. We smack each other in the press, and we don't print retractions."

His voice steadily increases in volume, and he turns to me with fire and wetness in his eyes. Poor man. She's confused him, too, I think, sympathetic. I remember when I was like that. There wasn't a reason, in fact, it was against all logic, but that's what she does. She's a witch, a temptress.

"I get no satisfaction witnessing her fits of passion! The way she primps and preens, and dresses like the pits of fashion!" he screams at me, gesturing wildly and running shaking hands nervously through his hair, making it stand in all directions. It's starting to scare me, the way his eyes have widened and glazed. He's got crazy eyes. "Our poorest citizens, our farmers live ration to ration, while Wall Street robs them blind in search of chips to cash in!"

"This bitch is asking for someone to bring her to task! Somebody give me some dirt on this vacuous mass so we can at last unmask her! I'll pull the trigger on her,"  he shouts in exasperation, making me worry. Let's not be hasty, now, Thomas, "someone load the gun and cock it! While we were all watching, she got Washington in her pocket!"

He pauses, and I strike. I come up behind him and engulf him in the biggest, most unmanly hug I can possibly think of, holding him tightly and pressing my chin into his shoulder. It's astonishing how tense he is, and I notice that his entire frame is shaking, out of rage or possibly fear. For a moment he struggles halfheartedly against me, but I just hold him and refuse to let go, praying that no one walks in on this.

Gradually his breathing and tremors slow, and when I'm absolutely sure he's in a stable enough mental state, I sing softly, "It must be nice," and he joins in, a little hiccoughy, "it must be nice, to have Washington on your side. It must be nice, it must be nice, to have Washington on your side."

My ears catch a small sound far in the distance, and for a moment I hesitate, going quiet to try to hear what's causing it. Hearing no additional noises, I continue with Thomas  -- he's Thomas now, how cool is that? -- saying, "Look back on the Bill of Rights," or, more specifically, the part where it says that the federal government can't overstep its bounds, which it is.

"WHICH I WROTE!" booms a loud voice, startling me and Thomas apart  from the shock. When my focus returns, I see it's Madison, beet red and coughing worse than ever. He grabs Thomas by the arm, causing the other man to double over. Madison drags him a step away, out of earshot, and they have a rapid, albeit heated, discussion. There's lightning fast hand movement and furious hissing, and it's almost like another language. 

It appears that Thomas has calmed the beast, because in about five seconds both of them are back, Madison without the terrifying rage cloud surrounding him. "The ink hasn't dried," they chorus, and I'm momentarily confused. We're still on the Bill of Rights? We're not even acknowledging what just happened?

"It must be nice, it must be nice, to have Washington on your side." 

Apparently not.

Madison starts us off again, saying, "She's doubled the size of our government, wasn't the trouble with much of our previous government size?" Both of us nod in agreement.

"Look in her eyes!" I say, disgusted at myself that I once considered this woman a friend, someone I could trust. I didn't see the signs. 

God, she makes me sick.

God, I make myself sick.

Thomas snarls, "See how she lies!" and I'm back to feeling sorry for him. Falling for her is like getting trapped under a boulder: you never see it coming, you wish it never happened, but there's nothing you can do to get out.

"Follow the scent of her enterprise," advises Madison, whom I will now refer to as James, because I don't want him to feel left out. (See: Ten Duel Commandments.)

"Centralizing national credit and making American credit competitive," mocks Thomas, obviously still sore about the whole thing, despite the compromise that I never want to speak of again.

A look of sudden realization dawns on James' face, and he turns to Thomas, saying, the astonishment evident, "If we don't stop it, we aid and abet it!"

"I have to resign!" cries Thomas, grabbing at James in desperation. I find my heart pumping faster and faster, feeling the thrill seep into my bones. We're going to bring down Alexandra! I find myself thinking, swept up in Thomas' wild exuberance.

In a rare and inspiring show of emotion, James slaps his hand against the wall and says firmly, "Somebody has to stand up for the South!"

"Somebody needs to stand up to her mouth!" I retort, a smile breaking out across my face when the two of them respond with dark enthusiasm.

Thomas is winding himself up for another go at it, exclaiming loudly, "If there's a fire you're trying to douse --"

"-- you can't put it out from inside the house!" James joins in, and the two of them look at each other like they've just shared an inside joke, which they probably have.

Then Thomas leaps up onto the only table in the place, which is halfway across the room, so we have to run all the way over there to get a better look at him while he shouts this next part. "I'm in the cabinet; I am complicit in watching her grabbing at power and kiss it! If Washington isn't going to listen to disciplined dissidents, this is the difference: this kid is out!"

That man never breathed. I swear on a stack of Bibles, he never took a breath.

"Oh!" We chorus as he jumps down to join us on the floor like regular, civilized folk, and we continue, crescendoing to a climax, "This immigrant isn't somebody we chose! Oh! This immigrant's keeping us all on our toes! Oh! Let's show these Federalists what they're up against! Oh!"

Then James and Thomas do something I'd never thought possible. Losing all restraint, they scream at the top of their lungs, "SOUTHERN MOTHERFUCKING --"'

And since this is the single greatest thing I have ever witnessed in my entire life, I get in on this action. "-- DEMOCRATIC-REPUBLICANS!"

Finishing off strong, we yell together, "Let's follow the money and see where it goes! Because every second the Treasury grows! If we follow the money and see where it leads, look in the weeds, find the seeds of Hamilton's misdeeds!"

Then we all stop, looking at each other for a full minute. The excitement we'd worked so hard to accomplish dissipates, and when we finally break the silence, it's to sing my soft tune.

"It must be nice, it must be nice..."

"Follow the money and see where it goes," reminds James, God bless him.

"It must be nice, it must be nice..."

"The emperor has no clothes." WHAT THE FUCK, THOMAS?

"We won't be invisible," Oh. We're making puns. That's okay then. Proceed, "we won't be denied. Still," the mood turns wistful again, all of us thinking, What if...? "it must be nice, it must be nice, to have Washington on your side."