Falling Through Time: Basking in Firelight: Book 2

Something Wrong

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Part 41. Y'all know what that means? Over halfway through.

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Warnings: Drinking

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Hamilton wasn't doing any better than Jefferson. Jefferson may not remember half his life, but Hamilton could remember all of it and the most important part of it had been ripped away and is now dangled in front of him every day and he can't catch it. It always dances away or turns into smoke that just slides through his fingers. Every time he saw Jefferson, heard his thick southern accent, saw his famous grin, Hamilton's heart would soar and then plummet back down as soon as he remembered Jefferson wasn't smiling for him, Jefferson didn't even know him.

And even worse, Hamilton didn't try to help him. He just told Jefferson everything he needed to know and then took off. Abandoned Jefferson to deal with his memory loss alone while Hamilton grieved the death of someone who was still very much alive. The guilt ate him up while he convinced himself he didn't care. Jefferson didn't know him. Jefferson didn't need him. 

Jefferson didn't want him.

Jefferson had told Hamilton once that he would never forget Hamilton, not even after two hundred years. Yet here they were, strangers. Worse than strangers, they were back to being enemies again. But that look in Jefferson's eyes when he looked Hamilton up and down after remembering his dream, it looked almost like Jefferson wanted to be that close again. For a split second, he looked like Hamilton's Jefferson again.

No, not quite like that, but close. It was close. 

Jefferson wasn't the only one suffering from sleep deprivation. Hamilton couldn't even sleep in a bed anymore, because then every morning when he woke up alone, he'd be yanked back to the days in Monticello when he wandered the hall aimlessly after Jefferson died, wishing he was dead.

The nightmares were worse.

So Hamilton slept in his office, mostly because his body just shuts off when it couldn't handle anymore. But at least he was getting his work done. That was always a plus. The essays ended up being way more work than he thought, not that he minded. Jefferson didn't seem to care either, he kept right on pace with Hamilton. Madison slowly tapered off, saying that Hamilton should write the next one instead of him but in reality, he was manipulating them into getting closer again. Not that anyone realized that's what he was doing. It just kept happening more and more often until it was just Jefferson and Hamilton going back and forth.  Madison could keep up if he wanted, but it was good for Jefferson and Hamilton, so he stepped back. He never liked the spotlight anyway.

The people were eating it up. At first, they were skeptical, but they knew and trusted Jefferson as a rebel leader. They were asking what Hamilton's thoughts were but he ignored them. They shouted for T. J. and Publius to weigh in since they were the nation's number one view on government since they'd been arguing about it before the war even started. But they were mysteriously missing in action. When the shouts turned into screams Hamilton and Jefferson finally agreed it was time. The people knew the publishing order, and when it changed after Madison, they memorized the new one. Two a day, one by Hamilton's pseudonym and one by Jefferson. So when the next day's were published and Hamilton's was signed Publius and Jefferson's signed T. J. the people went crazy. They had mostly expected T. J. by that point since it matched Jefferson's initials and aligned with the political views of both, but they certainly never expected Publius to be on board. They were so shocked that a lot of people were in disbelief, saying that Publius wrote his own pamphlet to add in. But those claims were quickly squashed. Then the people started screaming to know their true identities. Well, Hamilton's and Madison's. Everyone knew Jefferson's.