Counterpoint

Chapter 9

Jefferson

It has been several hours since Hamilton has discovered that he has been placed under strict house arrest. He took it surprisingly well. I had been expecting there to be at least one or two escape attempts to get back to his precious office. I had expressed such thoughts to Washington and all he had said to me in response is that I need to try to refrain from hurting him, but if I need to break his leg to keep him stationary for a while then I have permission for such drastic measures. To be perfectly honest, I was rather astonished by the drastic measures in which Washington was willing to issue to me to make sure Hamilton slept.

I glance up from my phone and see Hamilton still slumped over slightly at the end of my couch. He had sat down there a few hours ago and was uncharacteristically quiet, but now that I am looking at him I have no doubt that he fell back asleep as soon as his body made contact with the plush cushions of the couch. I can't help but stare at him for a moment. His face is so relaxed as he sleeps, a few strands of his brown hair slashing across his face as he breathes deeply. Just how long had he been forcing himself to stay awake for the sake of work?

His arms are wrapped around his chest as he cradles himself in his arms, his head resting on the cushion behind him and his legs are bent and slowly falling off of the cushion. I sigh softly as I rise from my spot on the couch and walk over to where he sleeps ever so soundly. My shadow casts over him and his eyes flicker slightly from the sudden shift of light to dark. I reach a hand out to his shoulder but pause suddenly when he sighs softly. His lips are parted slightly as he breathes even deeper, the muscles of his face remaining slack in sleep. Why is my heart beating so fast in my chest? I place a hand on my chest and feel the erratic pulse of my heart and frown at the irregular beat.

I thought that he had woken up. I release a gentle, quiet breath as I place gentle hands on his shoulders and slowly guide him down to a reclined position. His legs instantly curl up into the rest of his body as he slowly pulls his face down to his chest slightly. He looks so defensive when he sleeps like this. The sight of such a position almost makes me feel pity for the shorter man. My lips twitch slightly in silent laughter. Hamilton can never know that I had pitying thoughts about him. If anything would possibly tip him off of the edge that he teeters on daily it would be that. I can't help but laugh silently at the thought of him being thrown into a rage over something so trivial and human.

Hamilton had always been such an interesting individual. He is the first person to have ever hated me on sight. The memory of our introduction comes to mind and I can't help the grin that remains plastered there. Hamilton and I had caught each others eye from across the room before being introduced. I hadn't really thought much about him in that first glance. There was not much for me to base a first impression off of his appearance alone, but when Washington had brought him over and he glared at me with such hatred and fire, I had never felt more intrigued in my life.

I grab a blanket from the compartment in the end table. The warm, white wool of the fabric brushes against my fingers as I pull it out of the drawer and carefully drape it over Hamilton. The last thing I need is to wake him. I watch in silent fascination as he unconsciously curls his fingers into the blanket and pulls it closer to him. My first couple weeks of interactions with Hamilton had been experiments, poking and prodding at his fragile ego to see where his arrogance ends and his true emotions begin. After studying him for about a year I have come to the conclusion that he wears his arrogance like a shroud, disguising his true thoughts and feelings from the rest of the world around him. It is a good tactic for a politician, but as a private citizen I am curious when he decides to shed his disguise and act upon his true thoughts and opinions.

"I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it?" I mutter. Hamilton doesn't even stir at the sound of my voice. He is sleeping so deeply that I doubt that there would be much to wake him at this point. Why do I find you to be so interesting? That thought has been perplexing me for several months now. In the beginning, I had allowed myself to be swept away in the waves of my interest and curiosity. Observing and coming to my own conclusions about the strange man that had despised me from the first moment of laying eyes on me, I had lost myself to my desire for knowledge and now that I have resurfaced I feel a tad unsettled.

I wonder what Martha would have thought of my interest. Would she have been just as curious about the man that despised her fiancé? No. Probably not. My eyes are beginning to blur and I take that as my cue to abandon my spot beside the couch and find someplace private. Tears are thinly streaming down my cheeks as the shallowly buried pain and feelings that I harbor for Martha resurface. I pull open the door to the garage and quickly close it behind me, sliding down the door slowly.

"You were too good," I murmur through the tears. "I know that is why you were taken from me." My words are stuttered and shaky as I lose control of my voice. "Martha." How many nights had I prayed that she was with God and in the greatest of paradises? It had been countless nights that I had found myself praying for her wellbeing without realizing that I had even begun to pray.

My beautiful Martha. There will never be anyone quite as beautiful as you. When I close my eyes I can still see her gentle brown eyes, smell the shampoo she always used in her soft hair, feel the sweet smoothness of her rose gold skin.

"Sorry for crying," I murmur into the empty air. "I know that this isn't what you would want me to be doing." I cross my arms across my chest as I lean against the door and continue to speak into the open air. "I miss you, I miss you so much at times that I try desperately not to think about you." I grant a pause to allow my words to sink in. "And if you must know, it never works. You always come back to mind and I find myself laughing and crying over memories that we shared." I bite onto my bottom lip lightly as I close my eyes and take a breath. "I need your help Martha...help me to let go."

"I don't want to forget you. Never forget you." I add hastily. "I just can't live with this pain and sadness anymore." The silence of the still air frightens me for a moment. "I hope that you can understand. I will always love you, you know that, but I want to not cry when I think of you." My lips tremble. "We had so many good memories. Let me remember them with a smile...Teach me how to remember as well as forget. If anyone can do that it's you darlin. You always were teaching me new things."