Corset in Congress (A Hamilton Genderbend)

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Say No to This

I kept Maria as she is, because I find her a very compelling character, and I just realized that this story is lacking in female characters, and that just won't do! Plus, I enjoy writing Alexandra as a very flamboyant bisexual. So anyways.

Alexandra's POV

Hearing footfalls, I whirl around, desperately trying to cover the twin tear tracks that are streaked through the grime that I've allowed to accumulate on my immaculate skin. I see it's only Aaron, and I react without thinking, flinging myself at him, abandoning any attempt at preserving my dignity as I collapse into his arms, sobbing incoherently. He strokes my hair and whispers nonsense into my ears, slowly calming me. As my breaths stop hitching, I start to decipher what he's saying.

"There's nothing like summer in the city," his rich voice sings quietly, and I hum along to the tune, letting the words wash over me. "Someone under stress meets someone looking pretty. There's trouble in the air, you can smell it."

Aaron, no! I can't do this again!

"And Alexandra's by herself. I'll let her tell it." I pull away from him, scanning his eyes for an explanation of what just happens, letting my tear-stained face morph into a reflection of  the turmoil and betrayal that he's put me through. He only smiles his sad, subtle smile, and lets go of my wrists. Leaning in, Aaron plants a kiss on my forehead, before a gust of cold wind takes him from me in a shower of sparks.

And when he's gone, memories spring unbidden to my mind, overthrowing my carefully constructed state of mind, drowning my thoughts in civil unrest.

That night long ago

I hadn't slept in a week, I was weak, I was awake. You've never seen a bastard orphan in need of a break. Longing for Angelica, missing my Elijah. That's when Miss Maria Reynolds walked into my life. 

I was sitting at my desk, writing and writing and hating every word. The sentences didn't flow like they should. Screaming in frustration, I hurled a lamp against the wall, watching with morbid satisfaction as the pieces smashed in every direction. Luckily for my furniture, a knock sounded on the door. I swung it open to see a beautiful but harried woman with dark hair and skin, clothed in a flattering red dress. She said:

"I know you are an honourable woman, and I'm so sorry to bother you at home, but I don't know where to go, and I came here all alone," she had said, and I just couldn't turn her away. The faded tears, the chin held high, the strong woman vibe was just too alluring.

I refocused on what she was saying, and what I hear made my blood boil. "My husband's doing me wrong, beating me, cheating me, mistreating me. Suddenly he's up and gone. I don't have the means to go on."

So I offered her a loan, I offered to walk her home. She bowed her head, breaking eye contact in respect, and said, her voice smooth and flowing the way my writing refused to"

"You're too kind, ma'am."

Stumbling into my desk, my heart leapt and my mind despaired. My heart sang, and my mind wept. My heart flew and my mind sank. And, as always, it left my soul, what makes me who I am, running back and forth between the two of them screaming in anguish, unable to commit to any one course of action. God have mercy on me.

I gave her thirty bucks that I had socked away for... something, I can't remember what. I know it was important, but here in her presence, everything pales. Am I married? I don't even know. She lived a block away, and as we approached a tidy-looking house, she said:

"This one's mine, ma'am."

Coming to a halt on her front step, I fidgeted and cleared my throat awkwardly, trying to dispel the odd feeling in my throat. Eventually I said, "Well, um, I should head home," and turned to do so, when I felt a cool hand on mine, pulling me through the doorway. She lead me to her bed, let her legs spread, and said: