What Is A Legacy?

Chapter One:

It was no secret that Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson hated each other. Their insults, usually thrown at each other across tables at cabinet meetings, were published in the papers for the public's amusement. It seemed they reported more on their trash-talk rather than the meetings themselves.

What was unfortunate was the fact that, while Thomas would have liked to stay as far away from Hamilton as possible, they were forced to share an office building for a couple of months until Alex could find one of his own. The US capitol had been moved, and Hamilton along with it. Thomas hadn't volunteered his office building, had more been volun-told to share it by Washington. The President felt the more time the two men spent together, the quicker they would 'solve their disputes' and 'overcome their differences'.

Hilarious.

Hamilton took the spare office on the first floor, Thomas keeping his distance in the main office on the second floor. And even though they rarely ran into each other, the fact that Hamilton was there at all was irritating enough.

The Hamiltons had moved together, Alexander bringing to Virginia his wife and children. Their estate was only a short distance away from Thomas's own house, but fortunately they never crossed paths outside of work. But he often saw the family during work when Eliza stopped by to bring lunch to Hamilton. Philip, Alexander and Eliza's seven year-old son, usually tagged along, running around the lower floor under his mother's watchful eye. Which was fine. Thomas didn't mind the Hamiltons, just Alexander.

On one such occasion, Thomas had arrived at the building just as Philip and Eliza disappeared into Hamilton's office, Philip calling for his father. He quietly walked up the stairs, flipping through envelopes he'd received from Washington or fellow cabinet members. He heard Hamilton greet his son happily and embrace his wife, laughter echoing through the space. Eliza and Alexander exchanged a few words before the door to Alex's office shut and the complex fell silent. Well, as silent as could be with an eight year-old around.

Thomas entered his office, leaving the door open a crack, and while he got to work, he listened to the day-to-day activities happening outside his door. A little white noise never hurt and proved to help Thomas focus.

He worked diligently, replying to and writing numerous letters and essays. Hours passed without a noise of protest, one of his more peaceful days at the office. Washington had tasked him with writing letters to Congress over a shipping issue up in New York, but Hamilton had deemed himself the supervisor over said task, which Washington allowed, and annoyed Thomas to no end.

He had been working on said letter when he heard a noise, a creak of the floorboards, and thinking it was a passerby, looked up to see who it was. Large brown eyes met his own through the crack in the door, and Thomas immediately recognized Philip. Strange that he would stray away from his father, but then again he had always been a curious little child. Thomas listened, waiting to hear Eliza's footsteps, but none came. The boy was up here alone.
So, begrudgingly, Thomas got to his feet. But Philip backed away, shy or nervous, Jefferson couldn't tell. The boy disappeared from his line of sight, and Thomas cursed. He didn't want the kid running off and getting into trouble, or falling down the slippery stairs on his way to his father's office. The stairs had been freshly waxed a few days ago, and Thomas had heard many people slip on them since then. A kid in a rush wouldn't be spared. It only figured that Thomas had to be the one to go after the boy.

"Wait, kid," Thomas called, and pulled his door open. He was thankful that the kid hadn't gotten very far, but he was nearing the stairs pretty quickly and at the rate he was going, Thomas was ninety-nine percent sure the kid was about to bite it going down them. And the only thing worse than watching a kid potentially break itself was potentially getting broken by said kid's parents, namely Alexander.

Thomas rounded the corner just as Philip started his descent, going too fast on the too-slippery stairs. "No-"he called, positive Philip was about to hurt himself. He reached over the railing and grabbed his arm just as the kid slipped--like he'd predicted--Philip's feet swinging through the air as Thomas pulled him back onto the landing. The boy gasped in surprise, either at the fact that Thomas caught him or that he was seconds away from injuring himself. Either way, he was surprised. Thomas was surprised too; he didn't think he'd grab Philip in time.

Thomas set him back down on solid ground, letting him go quickly so the kid could recover.

"You alright, kid?" Thomas asked.

Wordlessly, Philip nodded, taking a few steps back from the stairs. "I think so."

"You can't go down those stairs that quickly," he warned. "They're slippery. I'm glad I caught you."

Philip stared up at him with big eyes. Thankfully, he didn't appear too shaken up. "Thanks for catching me," he said quietly.

Thomas nodded somewhat awkwardly. "No problem." He cleared his throat. "Hamilton!" Almost immediately, he heard a door downstairs open.

"What, Jefferson?" Hamilton shouted back, rounding the corner to look up the stairs. "If this is another issue about the letters-" Then he realized his son, too, was at the top of the stairs. "Philip?" He looked between the two. "What's going on?"

Thomas motioned to Philip. "Your son made it upstairs. He was nearly two seconds away from getting his face rearranged on his way back down. Luckily I caught him before he fell. Don't ask me what he was doing upstairs, I wouldn't be able to tell you."

Then Eliza appeared at her husband's shoulder. "Philip Alexander, get down here this instant. You know the rule about going upstairs." She wasn't angry, more stern, like they'd gone over this before. If Philip was anything like Alexander, they probably had. Philip's thick curls bounced as the boy stepped over to the stairs, hesitating for a moment before reaching a hand out to grab the railing. Carefully, he began his descent.

Eliza gave her son a once-over once he was by her side, making sure he was truly okay, and then flashed him a stern look that said we'll talk later. Then to Thomas she said, "Thank you for being there, Mr. Jefferson."

Hamilton sniffed. "Yes, I suppose I do owe you a thank you as well. Philip, what do you say?"

Thomas felt awkward, caught in the middle of a parenting session slash lecture. He put a hand up, trying to reassure all three of them it was fine. "No worries, it's alright. He already-"

"Thank you, Mr. Jefferson," Philip mumbled, staring at his shoes, and Eliza shook her head affectionately and led her son away, her husband following with a quick glance back at Thomas.

"Make sure those letters get written," he reminded, to which Thomas rolled his eyes. He always had to get the last word in.

"Don't worry," he said, letting the annoyance shine through his tone. "I'll get it done." He caught a glimpse of Eliza fixing Philip's collar before he walked back to his office, and admitted that while he and Alexander fought, he and his wife were good parents to their children. He tried to keep that thought, anything positive about Alexander, in his head as he went to work.