Corset in Congress (A Hamilton Genderbend)

Chapter Thirty-Five: We Know

Burr's POV

"Mr. Vice President," spits  out Alexandra, as the three of us file in. Jefferson tips his head mockingly, and she copies his cocky smile in an attempt to gain control. "Mr. Madison," she says, with slightly less hostility, and Madison doesn't acknowledge her; he's passive-aggressive that way. When her eyes land on me, she sneers, "Senator Burr. What is this?"

"We have the check stubs. From separate accounts," drawls Jefferson, lazily waving a small bundle of papers in the air around her head. When she makes a grab for them, he pulls his hand away, a shark smile on his face.

 Madison approaches, continuing the line, saying, "Almost a thousand dollars, paid in different amounts."

"To a Mr. James Reynolds," I say, and her eyes widen just a smidge, not enough for the others to notice, but just enough for me to catch, "way back in 1791." We've got her now.

"Is that what you have, are you done?" barks Alexandra, blustering and bolstering and trying to get herself out of the spotlight and in control. She's attempting to throw us off, disrupt us, make us slip up and forget our purpose. Well, not today. We just keep plugging away, breaking down every wall she's put up, tearing apart every lie she's told. Today's the day we bring her down.

Madison hops in, talking smoothly and confidently despite Alexandra's interruption. "You are uniquely situated, by virtue of your position--"

"--though virtue is not a word I'd apply to this situation," clips Jefferson, cutting into Madison's speech. He is then rewarded with a Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking, Thomas, look from Madison, who then continues, unflustered.

"--to seek financial gain, to stray from your sacred mission--" he says analytically, each intellectual word landing a heavy blow to her ego.

Jefferson, who clearly hasn't learned that one does not simply interrupt James Madison Jr., decides to stick his nose into this statement too, stealing all of Madison's thunder. "--and the evidence suggests you've engaged in speculation!"

"An immigrant embezzling our government funds," I sing smugly, safe in the knowledge that we've beaten her at her own game. We searched and we searched and we searched until we finally uncovered this, and I must say, it was well work it.

The two Virginians swoop in like vultures to hit her while she's down. "I can almost see the headline," they boast, waving their hands in the air to illustrate their point, "your career is done."

"I hope you saved some money for your daughter and sons," I say, not really sure why, because they're her children, not mine, so why do I care? And, I mean, they're father is Elijah Schuyler, so I'm sure they'll be fine, which is a relief. It would be horrible to be punished for the sins of your mother. I guess I'm just having another poke at her, suggesting that she needs to save the money, since she doesn't have mush to begin with???

Whatever. Moving on.

All of us move in closer, and she shrinks before us. I get a flashback to SOUTHERN MOTHER FUCKING DEMOCRATIC-REPUBLICANS! and it gives me strength. Then we say collectively, with as much insolence and arrogance as we can muster and mocking Caribbean speech, "You best g'wan run back where ya come from!"

"Ha!" she rages, suddenly renewed, no longer cowering beneath us. And when I say "us", I mean me and Jefferson, because Madison is part dwarf. He couldn't loom over a child. "You don't even know what you're asking me to confess!"

That's a mistake. Now we're going to press even harder for an answer. "Confess?" we ask slyly, waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

"You have nothing!" she spits, yelling directly in my face to emphasize her point, "I don't have to tell you anything at all! Unless..." she whispers, backing away, a new idea forming inside her mind. The three of us lean in, intrigued.