The Press (Whamilton)

Ch. 26

Words and sobs poured out of George Washington's mouth like vomit. If the words of his story were solid objects he could have buried the entire white house in them. Poor Mulligan just sat in front of his desk, listening quietly with a sad yet curious smile.

"-and so I left immediately and now I've just been here, doing this same god damn routine every day of avoiding Alexander and trying to not snap on Jefferson and I haven't showed up to a single god damn meeting because I can't just face them like a mature, sophisticated president can!" Washington finally stopped ranting to take a breath. He slouched in his chair, and it occurred to Hercules how old this job made Washington look. The man wasn't too old, but the job added several years to his physique.

Hercules asked, "So you haven't spoken to Hamilton since?" George shook his head and rubbed his forehead. After a moment of silence, George sat up in his seat.

"I should though, right? I never gave him a chance to explain himself, so it would only be fair to..." He trailed off and slumped again like a flower being hit by a storm. Hercules let George answer his own question in his head before giving his own input on the situation. Really, the last thing he wanted to do was make the president do something that he didn't actually want to do. But in this sort of situation there was no other option except what he didn't want to do.

"Mr. President," Hercules said carefully, "You're in love with him. I'm afraid there's... there's just no way that you and Hamilton can be in love and carry your jobs without being accused of biased thoughts and motives." Washington covered his face and looked down. Hercules closed his eyes and looked away while George broke down in his seat.

He couldn't do it. George couldn't bear to leave Alexander or leave his job. There was no way Washington could live with himself by splitting with Alexander forever and there was no way that Washington could live with himself by splitting with the job he had longed for since high school. He had to make a decision of whether he wanted Alexander Hamilton, who had cheated and lied to him while George was in another country, or his job, which had caused him endless hours of stress, anger, and even anxiety.

"I need... to make a- a choice." George wiped his eyes on his sleeve and sat up. "I need to make a... a prof-fessional decision where e-everybody... is okay."

"No," snapped Hercules, startling Washington, "You need to make a personal decision where you are okay. For once, Washington, you are not going to make a decision and think about the good of the entire country. For once, sir, you are not going to make a decision based on a group of people's opinions and thoughts and beliefs. This is about you. You need to make this decision for yourself. As much as the world admires your caring and considerate attitude towards problems, right now is just not the time for it, Mr. President."

George stared at Hercules. He gulped and nodded slowly, tightening his tie around his neck until he could feel again. Washington said softly, "Thank you, Mulligan, for your help. I... I need time to think about this decision- my decision- and then I will have an answer." Hercules smiled and gave a little nod of thanks to the praise. Washington continued, "If I decide to leave this job- this work- I want you to know that you are truly a wonderful body guard and the hardest worker in this building." He shook Hercules' hand, who afterwards stood up, said goodbye, and left the oval office.

Washington looked around his office. He had been surrounded by it for so long. The job almost felt like a part of himself. A part of his personality and heart and mind. Could he really part for it all for Alexander? All for this one shiny fish in an entire dark, suffocating ocean? George sighed and slumped in his chair once again. He glanced to side at the all too familiar biography. Christopher Jackson never had to deal with being in love with Lin Manuel Miranda. Why is there no autobiography or tutorial for this? Washington figured he could probably make his own autobiography when this entire mess was over.