Private Storyline 9

[slowtoanger]

Three days after their liaison in the woods, Timothy Edwards visits camp. He comes with some excuse--ministering to the men, and as famous as he is, he is not turned away. Of course, he must be there to see Burr. To seek him out after months of letters not adequately returned. And the winter location of the army is no secret.

He is given quarter nearby, and he makes sure to rub elbows with the officers, inserting himself into affairs in a manner that must, to anyone else, seem unobtrusive. But Burr knows him too well to read it as anything else--elbowing in, showing Aaron that he isn't free, even here. Not much time to be alone with him, with all the work, and little Theo, but he finds the time.

When Hamilton must leave for a meeting just before breakfast, and Burr is rocking Theo to sleep, he slips into their chamber. Burr thinks at first he is Laurens, so does not rise, until the voice startles him.

"You would think I were a stranger," Edwards says, smiling. Burr jumps. Theo startles, crying. "For all my nephew greets me. Do I not have leave to meet my granddaughter, whom I have read so much about?"

"Of course not uncle," Burr says, but he makes no move to hand her over, fussing at her as she cries. "It is just that I am terribly busy here, and I was not sure you would want to see her."

"Why ever wouldn't I? It is the Christian thing to do, is it not?" follows Burr about the room until he is cornered, and Burr can do nothing but hold Theo close and Edwards pulls at the blanket, gazes at her scrunched face. "I should say she looks like her father, but I understand there is some confusion regarding the matter."

"Uncle--" Burr protests, face hot. "There is no confusion, I--" swallows, stops. Feels like a child, so quickly. "You read about the affair from Paine's pen, did you not? It was all true, what he wrote."

"Mr. Paine has the habit of exaggerating, as we both know. Don't play dumb, boy. He would worship America sooner than god, and would hide sin in the interest of patriotism. I raised you better." A little hiss, leaning in close, and Burr turns, shielding Theo around the curve of his shoulder.

"What's done is done. I am married now--does that not please you?"

"No, I am not pleased by you parading this matter, our family's shame, in front of everyone to satisfy your petty pride. I shall not hold the girl accountable, as she is a victim in this, but you have shown yourself to lack any shred of common sense or decency."

"So what? Is that why you've come, to take me away?" A little mocking laugh, and Edwards' face darkens. He won't hit Burr here, with a child. But if he did it would be no large matter. He would be within his rights to.

"An Omega at war," he scoffs. "It was my fault really. To let you come here with no way to defend yourself against lust and greed."

"You have no say in the matter. I am my own man, and I have a family, and you would do your best to put us from your mind."

"We cannot all dismiss notions of duty. I took you on as my charge, raised you at great cost to myself, when I had already so many children to look after. Educated you, when others would not have, clothed you. Allowed you to range outside the home, when clearly I should not have. Why do you take pleasure in hurting our family? Have we not done enough for you?"

Theo lets out another wail, louder this time. Burr cannot slip around Edwards as he grows louder, and his heart is pounding, as he shrinks into the corner. Always so small, then and now. And if Edwards did decide to punish Aaron, one of the old beatings, that left him sore and blackened for days, he would not be able to protect Theo.

Edwards raises a hand, and Burr flinches back hard, knocks his head on the wall and nearly goes tumbling. Edwards grabs his arm, wrenches him back up, forward, enough that his muscles burn.

"Keep your feet, boy. They have no use for cowards in war."

Comments

[non_stop]

"Aaron?" Hamilton steps inside, at this point, drawn by Theodosia's thready cries. "I heard Theo--" And he stops.

He is across the little cabin in an instant, with no memory of having traversed the intervening space. Growl rising in his throat, he shoulders Edwards aside, almost, almost committing outright battery.

"Explain yourself." Narrowed eyes, not yielding any space, any ground. He interposes himself between Edwards and Burr. Edwards can maintain his grip, around Hamilton, but if he does, Hamilton is an instant's provocation away from violence.

[slowtoanger]

"He stumbled," Edwards says, and lets go of Aaron's arm. "I only caught him. It would have been a dangerous fall, with such precious cargo."

"Alexander, please," Burr says, puts an arm on his back. "He didn't do anything wrong."

Doesn't want to waste the energy here, now, on what is seeming to be the start of a real fight. Hamilton, a young angry alpha and his aging uncle. If Hamilton lets himself be plied, Edwards will not give space for accusations. Really, the scene is not so suspicious, to anyone who does not know Burr's scent.

"Are you going to introduce me?" Edwards asks, and Burr steps forward immediately.

"Alexander, this is my uncle, Timothy Edwards. He's a Reverend, as you might be aware. Uncle, this is my husband, Alexander Hamilton."

"I should liked to have gotten to know you sooner," Edwards smiles, "yet I've heard the wedding was a very rushed affair. Can't be helped in war, I suppose."

Ah, but Theo is still crying, red faced, wailing. Deeply upset.

"Uncle, I'm afraid we'll have to have more proper meetings later. I really must calm Theo."

And Hamilton.

"Of course." But his eyes flash, as he steps away. "I shall be dining with Washington. I trust I shall see you then." And then he is leaving, and Burr is worrying at the baby, doing anything he can to calm her. Offering her a little wooden teething ring, the ends of his fingers, yet she will not stop wailing.

[non_stop]

"Oh, the ceremony itself?" asks Hamilton, innocently. "Yes, the marriage license came back early, from the Governor of New Jersey himself -- he is a personal friend of mine, and had taken special care with it. It arrived quite unexpectedly." His tone drops a few degrees. "After five months of engagement."

He watches as Edwards leaves.

Theo is crying; he holds out his arms for her, and Burr (reluctantly, Hamilton thinks) passes her over. Hamilton still doesn't have fantastic control of his scent, and he's starting to think he never will, but he's got one down cold: the tender protectiveness that he uses to soothe her to sleep. He does that now, tucking her little body against his chest. "Hush, hush; I'm here, love."

He perches down on the edge of the bunked cot.

"Should I ask General Washington to make him unwelcome?" he asks, after a moment, not sure what else to say. Feeling tender and protective towards Burr, too, and worried, and angry.

[slowtoanger]

"No," Burr hurries to say, though he wants to say yes, knowing how trying the visit will be. Thinking of the letters Edwards had sent. Oh, the letters, and he knows Edwards will take every opportunity to pull Burr aside and try to convince him--that his place is back with his family, away from a scandalous marriage and possible shame.

"No, he didn't do anything wrong, Hamilton. I really did trip. I should have crushed sweet Theo, if he hadn't caught me." But even now something in his arm doesn't feel quite right--tender and sore, and he must be bruising beneath his shirt. Ah, but when he was young such a grip was so much worse than it was now.

"It will be like any visit from unwanted in laws. We shall have to deal with small slights until he leaves, comforted only by the fact that he means well, is relatively harmless, and that he and his family are the only such in-laws who will likely prevail on us. I should like to see his face, if we take this inheritance matter to court." Teasing, attempting to sooth Hamilton, as he so often must these past weeks.

Theo is settling now, soothed by Hamilton in a way Burr cannot. Comfort verses protection, perhaps. When did she realize Burr could not protect her as well as Hamilton could?

"You should play nice with him, Hamilton, though I admit I would take great pleasure in seeing you run verbal circles around him. I see him making less attempts to deliver me from sin if there is less to ridicule."

[non_stop]

"Was I not playing nice?" he asks, innocently, again. "I thought he must have referred to the ceremony itself, given that our engagement was -- well, short, but not so short as some. It isn't as though we rushed to it to hide something."

He doesn't want to start a fight, but the thought that Burr might lie to him makes his stomach sink.

He almost, almost lets Burr get away with it.

"If he didn't do anything wrong," says Hamilton, "why was Theo screaming when I got here?"

[slowtoanger]

"He startled me is all--honestly. I didn't hear him come into the room, so I jumped and Theo had only just been falling asleep. Then when I tripped I jostled her."

He isn't lying--though to say he tripped is generous. Flinched, cowardly, as Edwards had said. But that's not so much a lie as a necessary deception, to preserve his tattered pride.

"You may give her back now, if you please." Because Burr is desperate to hold her, and know she is safe. He'll be more careful from now on, to not be anywhere with her alone that is not secure. Lock their doors or leave her with Laurens. Unlikely, that a visit from his uncle will pass without incident, after those occasions at Princeton, and the one visit preceding quebec. He hadn't had a child then, or a mate.

[non_stop]

"Of course."

There's something his husband isn't telling him.

He settles Theo into Burr's arms. "Where she belongs." He kisses Burr's forehead. He lets his protectiveness of Burr, too, flood the air.

"She can tell, you know," he says. "When you're frightened." He moves to his feet. "I wish you would tell me your worries." A bit of shame, then, because he realizes he kept his from Burr for weeks.

"Oh, I had a thought," he says, turning back, before he leaves. "One of the chains for the guns broke yesterday -- I took a few links of it. Metal may be kept outside in the snow and might help numb her as she breaks her teeth. Would that be better than wood?"

[slowtoanger]

"I think she should like anything she can shake around," Burr says, honestly. "Just the other day she broke into giggles when she caught me using a fork."

--

Edwards hangs around the camp, continuing his duties as minister, hanging always where Burr is. Burr, who is nervous and on edge, counting every day until Edwards is to leave.

For all he tries to distance himself Edwards catches him at odd hours, crowds him in hallways and empty rooms, always trying to urge Burr to come back with him to New Jersey.

He never is gentle, when trying to convince him. His words bite worse than his hands, which grasp with too much strength and familiarity. To others Edwards is charming, well mannered, yet he makes jokes at Burr's expense often. Things that to any others might seem like friendly familial teasing, but leave Burr feeling queasy and offended.

Tells stories about Burr as a child, trying to run away from chores and punishment. Intent on being a sea captain.

Burr has difficulty sleeping. Nightmares. Hamilton is worried, yet there is nothing to do but wait for Edwards to leave.

[non_stop]

Edwards is just as determined to catch Burr alone as Hamilton is to never leave Burr alone. He enlists Laurens in it, too, and Laurens interrupts Edwards and Burr twice, both times pretending at cheerful obliviousness.

It's Laurens who raises the spectre of kidnapping.

"It makes sense," says Laurens. "It wouldn't be so strange to send her away to be raised by a close family member, and, well, he's the obvious one. If he could convince Aaron, then he could justify ignoring your recommendation. And if he couldn't convince Aaron, he might think he could charge him with hysteria, being a poor mother, taking an infant into a war zone..."

And so Hamilton has to adjust his tactics. Laurens, to keep an eye on Burr. Hamilton, to ensure that Theodosia doesn't leave his sight. She's much too young to be left alone, anyhow, except when she's napping, and Hamilton neatly stops that practice, though it disrupts everyone's sleep.

Tries to support Burr in what ways he can. "Ah, that explains it," says Hamilton, to the story -- "Why being a captain suits him so well, that is."

[slowtoanger]

Edwards grows more incensed with each refusal. More vicious, more biting. He never did like hearing no.

"You are mad. I could have you put away for less," he hisses at Burr that morning, just outside the door to his cabin. "Omegas have been put away for less. Only a mad man would take a baby to war. This is no place for her, and if you cared for her at all you would return home with me, where we can make some effort towards correcting you."

Burr is unmovable, but that does not stop Edwards from trying. He waits for the perfect moment--when Laurens is delivering a letter and Theodosia has just finished her lunch, needing to be walked and burped. Burr cannot put off his work, and though Hamilton tries to persist, the afternoon finds Burr working at his small desk, sorting through piles of disciplinary reports.

That is where he is when Edwards walks in, intent, apparently, on enlisting Washington's help in this matter. Washington, for his part, seems wholly put out; too much work always, to be dealing with a matter like this. But there is nothing to be done, when a gentleman is addressing his superior.

"You must see common sense," Edwards appeals. "You should see already what the British are printing about the matter. It is a sham, to have him here with her, a danger to the whole of the army. Don't tell me you have not already had to make accommodations for him, and his delicacy. What do you think the British will do to them, if the worst is to happen, and your headquarters are breached? They will not spare a small babe, and if they do spare an omega it will be only for a bit of passing fun. Death would be merciful then. You must assist me in saving my nephew and my grandchild, he cannot be reasoned with."

Edwards speaks passionately--worked up, leaning over the side of Washington's desk, with the voice he uses when preaching. Death, fire, damnation. He does sound convincing, and Burr has no doubt that he believes what he is saying.

Washington doesn't speak for a long moment--processing, and considering the room. Yes, he is put-out, and trying to figure out what to say, in so delicate a situation. Likely to wash his hands of the whole thing, Burr thinks. Likely to send him away. Burr rises suddenly, to protest, but Washington holds up his hand, a small hard glare, and Burr sinks back down, lips pressed hard together.

"It is my understanding that you no longer are the Captain's most immediate family, and though you worries are commendable, this is a matter to discuss with his husband, as the final say rests with him."

"I do not recognize the marriage," Edwards says, tightly, face going a bit red.

"Regardless of what you recognize, Reverand, it is a marriage that the colonies does recognize, and therefore I have no place in interfering." Amusement--he thinks Edwards is just another unhappy relative, with children playing at war.

"But you do have power, General. This is your battlefield. Your army."

"My men still have some autonomy, Sir. We are not a monarchy--I would give the Captain freedom in this manner."

"Sir--you should know I have a good deal of sway in these states. A good many connections, and support."

"Say anymore Reverand, and you are bordering on treason."

"I thought we commended treason in these colonies. You must hold something dear, if not family. Make your peace with god, for you shall have no help from me."

Edwards doesn't bow, when he walks away, but he does stop before Burr's desk.

"Boy," he barks. "I would speak to you outside."

"I am on duty uncle," Burr says, slowly. "Anything you wish to say you shall have to say here."

"Stand, while I am addressing you."

A beat of silence. Washington says nothing, bend back to his papers. Patience worn away already, giving Edwards these last few liberties in the hopes that they will be the last. Burr pushes his chair back, but does not move out from behind his desk. A measure of authority, confronting Edwards in this way.

"You have been a disgrace to this family. A disappointment, before us and god. I have given you freedoms you do not deserve, and you will tender your resignation and return home with me tomorrow, or I shall revoke your birthright and have you committed. Your daughter shall be taken away, and you shall not see her until you renounce your disgraceful ways and I pronounce you of fit mind. You are to tend to these things immediately."

"I thank you sir, I shall not," Burr says, and his heart pounds, limbs starting to shake. Edwards would not likely discipline him here, in front of Washington, though he has struck Burr in public before, as a child. Never was there an opportunity he could remember, where disrespect was not awarded with a good beating.

"Pardon me, boy?"

"I shall not, and cannot, and if I could I still would not, even were the British on their way here this very instant."

"Have you no care for your child?"

"My primary concern is for her, and I would sooner surrender her to the British than to send her with you." His voice quivers, and his feet itch to step back, but he stands his ground.

"Sir," Washington says, standing. "You have heard his answer, and now I must request you leave us to our work."

"Ungrateful devil of a child, who has no more loyalty than he showed in allowing some Irish bastard to breed him at the first opportunity--"

"Loyalty is to be met with respect, and you have none--"

Burr starts, but he is quickly rendered silent with a hard fist across his jaw, blooming pain, and he falls backwards, colliding with the wall and tumbling to the floor, cradling his face. Blood--Edward's rings. Heavy boots, starting after him, and be braces for a kick, familiarity.

Shouting, as he scoots quickly against the wall, covering himself, waiting for more blows to land.

"He is my charge, and therefore it is my responsibility to discipline him!" Edwards shouts.

[non_stop]

A kick is not what happens.

The shouting attracts both Hamilton and the two soldiers assigned to guard Washington against assassination attempts. Hamilton takes one look at the scene and shoves Theodosia at one of the two guards (the one he likes better) and is across the room faster than one of his size should be able to go. He gets there before Washington, even.

Edwards jerks up short, as Hamilton has grasped him by the back of his jacket. He lifts Edwards bodily off the ground and throws him into one of the other desks, his instinctive desire to defend his mate lending him strength beyond ordinary means.

Before Edwards and the table hit the ground, Hamilton is on Burr. He doesn't even think about it; he can see Washington's notoriously thunderous temper is triggered, and sometime in these intervening months, with Washington accepting Burr and Hamilton as who they are, accepting their connection, accepting their child, they have become a bit of a family in truth, not just in the sense of a general and his aides. Washington will protect them. Especially against a man who dares batter one of his aides right in front of the general's face.

"Love, Aaron," and he is frantic, "are you all right?"

[slowtoanger]

Edwards is spitting vitriol; insults and curses. Saying truly awful things, while he struggles to rise. He has a mind to advance again across the room--thinks reason and ownership will prevail.

"He is my property, what right do you have to stop me when he deserves a sound beating?"

Burr, for his part, learned long ago that the best thing to do was stay down. Curled towards the wall, hands cradling his burning face. He hadn't thought Edwards would hit him, and yet he should have known. Embarrassed, and numb.

He doesn't think anything in his face has broken, but his eye hurts a good deal, where his cheekbone connected with the wall, and he can feel blood seeping through his fingers.

"Alexander?" He asks, and damn him his voice shakes. He will allow Hamilton to pull his hands away, if he tries, but for now he feels a stab of fear. That his hands are concealing something gruesome, and that in pulling them away it will become real.

He was never this cowardly about taking a punch before.

[non_stop]

Edwards comes up against Washington, who has planted himself like a wall in between the enraged preacher and the young couple.

"Sir!" snaps Washington. "You have been asked to leave. It has been suggested you leave. And now, I insist upon your removal."

This whole thing is boggling Hamilton. "His property?" He surges to his feet, and nearly clotheslines himself on Washington's outstretched arm. "He's my husband!"

[slowtoanger]

"I shall leave when the Captain leaves with me and not before. He's had enough playing army. Boy, I am giving you an order," He snarls, though he is sensible enough not to advance on the six-foot-tall angry general. He expects wholly that Burr will comply, eventually. Headstrong though he has been, a beating had never failed to make him yield.

Burr is still on the floor, and when he speaks his words are slow and sluggish.

"I shall not leave with you sir. My family is here."

Edwards growls, his own alpha growl, but there is no avenue for him to press his case, outside resorting to physical violence. And Hamilton himself is snarling, and the room is effused with aggression scents and challenges.

"I take no leave of you," Edwards says, "for you have earned none. You shall not be welcome in any parish of mine, nor shall you be allowed to set foot in my home, regardless of the sorry state this bastard whoreson shall no doubt leave you," and if they allow him, he leaves.

[non_stop]

"Should I leave him, his own independent wealth will sustain him far better than you." The his in this case clearly refers to Burr, because Hamilton hasn't given up his insistence that Montgomery Place belongs to Burr -- Hamilton is merely to manage it so long as he is alive, with a fiduciary duty to preserve it for Burr's descendants, and Theodosia especially.

Hamilton is satisfied with that parting shot -- it must be that Edwards is after that estate, or Theodosia, and he will have neither of them.

Theodosia lets out a scream, and starts to wail and kick as Edwards goes. Hamilton scoops her out of the guard's arms, and kneels next to Burr.

It isn't as bad as he thought. A scrape, and bruise, and it bleeds the way most wounds on the head bleed. "How dare he." -- through gritted teeth.

[slowtoanger]

"It's alright," Burr says, and he can see in Hamilton's face that the wound is not so bad, when he hesitantly removes his bloodied hand. A cut across his cheek, a bruise on his jaw and darkening his opposite eye. "It doesn't hurt," he says as he winces, and "it could have been worse." Because it never had been so slight, in these matters. A small slap in public leading up to something, or the first signs of a bad mood, where Burr could do nothing but make mistake after mistake.

Men come to blows quite often. He reaches for Theodosia, but stops when he sees the state of his hands, fumbling for his handkerchief. A thousand excuses on his tongue. "He's not a good man," Burr says, "but all his concerns and actions come from a place of care."

[non_stop]

"If it was worse for you, it would have been worse for him." He makes it sound simple: an exchange. It isn't simple, obviously.

He almost hands Theodosia to Burr regardless of the state of his hands. He needs her. She needs him.

"At least that's what he tells himself," says Hamilton, "and what he tells everyone else. You don't have to defend him. Here," and he settles Theodosia carefully in Burr's arms.

"Son," says Washington, "might want to take your mate to the medic."

"Yes, sir," says Hamilton. He moves to his feet. "Thank you, sir." He means terribly much by it; he squares his shoulders and looks up, to Washington's towering form. The angry mood hasn't vanished, still leaves impressions around jaw and brow.

"The Reverend Edwards had no standing," Washington tells him. "Legal or ethical." He claps Hamilton on the shoulder.

[slowtoanger]

Once they are outside he stops. "I don't need the medic, Alexander. Let's just go to our cabin and rest. I shouldn't be much for the army if I couldn't take a single punch."

He is hugging Theo close to him, against the chill. Though today is warmer the cold still feels good against his abused skin. "Some good has come of this, at least--" pulling Hamilton towards their cabin, if he will let him, "Edwards visit has been cut short, and excepting anything unforseen, we shall not have to see him again."

In truth he wants them all to go about their business like none of this has happened. To shut himself away alone for the public embarrassment, yet he knows Hamilton--easily wounded and delicate, despite what he would say. He needs to be near Burr, now. He is sure.

[non_stop]

Actually, he likes that better. His mate, his child (Theodosia is his, in a truer sense than blood) in a safe place, surrounded by walls, out of reach of any and all outside influence. By the time they get there, he is herding them more than Burr pulling him.

When they're inside, Hamilton nudges Burr onto the bed, and starts to build a fire. Twigs, leaves, and flint's sharp sparks.

"My mother's husband was that kind of man."

He does not elaborate. The flame catches, and he feeds it, small curl of smoke taken into the mud-brick chimney. There isn't much wood, and so they can't keep the fire going while they aren't inside here, meaning that the air is barely less frigid than the outside. The walls protect from the wind's chill, more than anything else -- and sometimes not even that.

This is enough justification for a fire. He uses one of the too-small stack of logs, and then another, slow-burning, setting them in parallel. Soon, the fire crackles and snaps.

He covers one of Theo's cleaned rags in snow, and ducks back in to melt it over the little fire. Water thus obtained, he perches next to Burr, and wipes at the stray smears of blood. Burr is right, of course -- he wants to fuss.

[slowtoanger]

A small flinch, before he yeilds to the treatment. Lets a little sigh escape, as the cool water dabs at his face. Bounces Theo on his leg. Yes, this is his family. He doesn't need anyone else, or anything.

Suddenly grabs Hamilton's wrist, as it goes back towards the drying blood, just so he can watch his face, the little play of emotions, and then he closes his eyes and pushes his head, sore, swelling, against Hamilton's shoulder. Lets himself sit, held up.

Hamilton's mother's husband. Violent men. He lets go of Hamilton's wrist, but only to grab his hand, the rag still held between them, reddened. He understands. Some do. Many more don't, or want not to. They won't use violence, either of them. And they won't need justifications, for these small moments. The small hollow parts, the rough edges.

"Did he hurt you?" He asks, and he doesn't know why it is so important, things that happened years ago, yet the thought makes his heart ache.

[non_stop]

"When my mother died, he took everything and sold it," Hamilton tells him. "He hardly laid a glance on me."

He follows the touch of the rag with a tender kiss, as though he could heal the wounds by affectionate sentiment alone. Theodosia, oblivious to the complexities of the sentiment woven between her two parents, has settled again, giggling and kicking her legs as she is bounced.

"He hurt her, though, before she fled." And after, humiliating her. "Would snow help, to draw off the heat of the wound?"

[slowtoanger]

"Oh, it's alright, there's no need to fuss." Mutters against Hamilton's skin, though in truth snow would help. Already his skin feels tight and numb and pulsing and hot. It would likely look better, if he iced it, but he still feels embarrassed.

"Sometimes doing nothing is worse, Alexander." About his mother's husband. Wraps his hand in Hamilton's shirt sleeve. The other around Theodosia. Low light, and crackling fire. A small bubble of domestic tranquility. How could Edwards have ever come here?

[non_stop]

"Of course there is. You won't fuss over yourself; it falls to me." He disentangles himself from his veritable octopus of a husband, who seems to have attached himself to Hamilton with more limbs than he should rightly possess. He moves to the pile of rags, and takes another, which he makes into a little bundle of compact snow, outside.

When he returns, he shakes out a blanket, as well, and drapes it over Burr's legs, tucking himself underneath it as well, budging him over on the little bed. It's hardly more than a frame, a few ropes, and a canvas sack of straw, some of which always seems to be poking through and prickling. Yet, it's been their marriage-bed since they entered winter quarters, and it is larger than the first bed they shared, which was never meant for more than one.

"I'm at a loss to know what to do about him," says Hamilton. "Has he always treated you so?"

[slowtoanger]

"I don't see that we should have to do anything. He's left now, and he may make a fuss in some publication few care about, but you hear Washington. He has no leg to stand on." Yet in truth Burr had feared, that he would be sent after him. Had seen no reason Washington might not agree, the burden he himself and little Theo were to the war effort, the distraction to Hamilton. And besides, it would not be so long until someone would have to watch Theo in a broader capacity, if Burr was ever to make it back onto the battlefield. But not Edwards. The man loved his own children, as babies, but he was harsh, and strict, the older one got.

"He's usually worse," Burr says, not looking up from Theo's wide little eyes, "especially when he doesn't get his way. I suppose he knew that it isn't as commonplace, to be seen striking an omega who is grown. In truth I wasn't sure how he would react, me refusing to go with him. I've hardly seen him for more that a handful of weeks, an odd summer, since leaving for Princeton."

[non_stop]

Hamilton sighs. He knows full well there is no being rid of these men until they are fully gone. Burr's naivete strikes again.

"Love," says Hamilton, "dear, darling, you have a mind of surpassing quality, and why you, at times, fail entirely to engage it is beyond me." It is a little exasperated, though terribly fond. "He has been humiliated in front of two guards, the commander of the Continental forces, someone he believes to belong to him, and a bastard whoreson -- his object has not been attained -- and he must leave with his tail tucked, when he expected to resume his control over you. Have there been similar incidents before? What did he do then?"