Slipping Into The Future

Chapter 1

To George Washington

Philadelphia December 1. 1794

Sir

I have the honor to inform you that I have fixed upon the last of January next as the day for the resignation of my office of Secretary of the Treasury. I make the communication now, that there may be time to mature such an arrangement as shall appear to you proper to meet the vacancy when it occurs.

With perfect respect & the truest attachment.

I have the honor to be  

Sir

Your very obedient servt.

The President of The U.States

A.Hamilton

°•°•°

Hamilton places the quill in its holder and grabs the powder, gently flaking it over the letter before lifting it and blowing gently to speed up the drying process. He places the parchment back down on his wooden desk and sighs, rubbing his forehead tiredly. He stares at his — possibly fifth or sixth — draft and blinks sluggishly. He rubs his eyes, cursing the shadows he is sure are prominent under his eyelids at the moment.

Hamilton loathes admitting defeat, but alas, he must resign not only for his family's sake — but for his own sake. He has made irredeemable mistakes in the few years past that have surely haunted his mind and clouded his judgement. He must not repeat such errors, so the final resort of a resignation letter will have to do.

He can work in his law firm again, perhaps — or he could try something new. Regardless, he needs to escape parliament even though his heart rests in America's hands. He prays he has done enough service for his country.

Hamilton gazes at the candle which has shrunk quite a considerable amount; he must remember to retrieve more in the days to come. He carries it and cautiously tucks in his chair before exiting his office and retiring to his bedroom. He steps swiftly, avoiding the floorboards he knows will creak until approaching his marriage bed where his dearest Eliza is sound asleep.

Hamilton places the candle on the nightstand and slowly removes his coat, vest, stockings and breeches before carefully tucking himself into bed. He leans over to blow away the flame before turning over. He startles at the sight of his wife's dark eyes staring at him, her face illuminated by the bright moonlight shining through their window.

"My dear, you startled me," Hamilton exhales, holding his chest in hopes his heart will calm its incessant pounding.

"Alexander, have you only just come to bed now? At such an hour?" Eliza whispers to Hamilton with delicately furrowed brows. He sighs.

"I completed my final draft for my letter of resignation," Hamilton replies quietly. Eliza's lips curl up slightly and Hamilton would not have noticed had he not been gazing at her plump lips as he spoke. His eyes flicker up to hers and she blinks languidly, her smile growing evermore. "Soon I will be able to retire when you do, my dearest Betsey."

Eliza snorts, her eyes scrunching closed as she stifles her chuckling. Hamilton gives her a crooked grin, raising his eyebrow playfully. "What is so amusing, my dear?"

"No matter what place of work you reside in, Alexander, you will never retire when I do." Eliza lightly shakes her head. "You really do write like you're running out of time."

Now it is Hamilton's turn to stifle a chuckle. He smiles endearingly at his wife and wraps an arm around her, pulling her close and nuzzling his head into her neck. He breathes in her scent and leaves a wet, languid kiss on the juncture between her jaw and neck which elicits an involuntary soft moan from her lips.