Hey Papa, do you think Henry's going to come back? I'm really worried about him.
Come here, princess. You don't have to worry. Emma is on her way to bring him back, and Emma always achieves what she wants, even though she always takes her sweet time with it.
I don't have a single doubt that they'll be home safe and sound. It'll be fine, sweetheart.
Letters from Alexander Hamilton had been coming in every day now, insisting that Thomas consider supporting his debt plan. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to see the multitude of papers arriving at his office but it was Hamilton, so he had come to expect it. Jefferson didn’t reply often, but that never stopped Alexander from continuing on the warpath of spreading his argumentative opinions.
The best part of Thomas’s week was when Asher ran into his office every Thursday to tell him that lunch was ready. Today the two-year-old practically bounded into the room, his face lighting up at the sight of his somewhat-adoptive father. The paperwork had never been filled out to make him a legal guardian, but he fathered him as if he had.
Asher was wearing a little blue coat that almost ran to his ankles. The color of the fabric was barely lighter than his blue-gray eyes. He was always so happy around this time of day. Y/N, Asher, and Thomas always visited the graveyard on Thursdays with a picnic lunch. Of course, the young boy didn’t really understand death yet, but he knew who his father was and why he could never come and visit. All he really recognized was that he got to spend some time eating outside with his family.
“Daddy, come on! Mamma says that it’s time to go!”
“I’ll be right there, Ash.”
“Okay! Momma helped me write a letter to Papa today! She said that if we leave it in front of the rock door, then he could read it.”
He had a goofy grin on his face that could only stay with innocence. It took everything in Jefferson not to jump up from the desk and lift Ash up in the air, playing and giggling as they went to go to lunch. Growing up in a big family, Thomas never felt alone amongst his siblings. He wanted Asher to feel the same sense of family, an assurance that he would never be alone. The Jefferson siblings, specifically his brother, visited on occasion, but never stayed long. None of them approved of his choice to live with an unmarried woman and her son. None of their critiques were worse than those in his own head.
He’s not even your son, really. You wouldn’t be a good father anyway. Think of all the women you used. If it didn’t happen then, it wasn’t meant to happen. Give it up, you’ll never be a good father, let alone a good husband.
He shook off his thoughts, faking a smile as he playfully shooed the boy from the room, promising to be down in a minute. He turned his attention to the last page he told himself he would finish before the picnic. The ink in his quill felt thinner than it was before the welcome interruption. His older brother’s words echoed in his mind:
Don’t fool yourself. You’ve grown up strong. Get power, and the happiness will follow. Men don’t love, Thomas. They take.
“I will discuss it with Madison, but I cannot make you any promises, Alexander. As amusing as it is to see you beg before me like a lost dog, I cannot set aside my values, nor can I speak for James.”
“This debt plan must be passed, Jefferson. This country needs it passed.”
“You always want everything to go through. Sorry, Washington isn’t going out of his way to make sure you get everything you want.”
Thomas stepped back through the front doorway, making a move like he was about to shut the door on Hamilton. He was truly feeling desperate to come and ask Thomas Jefferson for help. It wasn’t a question of ‘if’, but one of ‘how far are you willing to go?’.
“Wait.”
“What?” the democratic-republican snapped.
“What if you got something out of it?”
Thomas sneered back at the man: “I’m not the one that needs something out of it.”
“We can negotiate something. Something that can help the Southern states.”
“The South doesn’t need your hel-
“Please.”
Jefferson paused, thinking about what he and Y/N had been teaching Asher the previous night. Although you may not agree with everyone, listening and being polite can be the most important part to changing their mind. Breathing in through his clenched teeth, Thomas seethed:
“Come over Sunday night at 5 pm. We can talk then.”
Hamilton smirked and nodded before he turned back to his carriage. Jefferson rolled his eyes and slowly let out a full breath, finally closing the door. This wasn’t going to be fun. Now he had to go see Madison and, more importantly, he hated bringing work home. His house was, with the exception of his office, somewhere that he didn’t have to be a politician.
Sunday dragged along as a fury of angry conversation wracked the halls of the Jefferson residence. James had agreed to join Thomas for dinner, but he knew something was wrong when he was the only one to show up at the front door. When Thomas ushered him inside and explained the situation, there was nothing stopping the bickering.
It was unusual for Thomas to request that Y/N not speak with him, but it was painfully clear that he didn’t want to prevent her or Asher from joining him in the first place. It was all too likely that whatever was to be exchanged was not going to be appropriate for Asher to hear in the first place. It was decided that they would all go out together the next day to make up for the evening and, with any stroke of luck, celebrate.
Y/N had taken her less than enthusiastic son upstairs, promising mac and cheese to encourage him to come upstairs. He bounded up alongside her, but not before turning around to wave at Thomas as he turned the corner.
Place cards had been set around an old oak table and courses for the meeting had been determined- all standard for political gatherings. However unconventional it may be, Jefferson tried to set things in a good light by separating his home life from the shared political discourse.
James was still grumbling his disdain for the meeting as Alexander arrive. As the three politicians made their way to the dining room, they attempted to discreetly size one another up. The air, an intoxicating mixture of parchment and cheese, hung heavily over them lazily. The first course has been set out on the table for their arrival. Every movement from the men was strategic, a test of where the power in the room was held. As the dining room doors thumped closed behind them, the atmosphere only grew more stiflingly uncomfortable.
It was an hour later when a side door into the room creaked open. The pitter patter of small feet entered, unaware of what they had just interrupted. The politicians paused their conversation, looking up from the documents they were assessing to see the two-year-old hop up onto a chair and reach for the bowl of mac n’ cheese.
Jefferson was the first to break the silence.
“Asher, what are you doing down here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
The boy looked up, some cheese sauce stuck around his mouth.
“Mama fell asweep.”
“She fell asleep?”
“Mmh Hmm. She was reading the book you made again, but she stopped and went to sweep. I know because she’s breathing loud again.”
Hamilton glanced to Madison, wondering what his take on this was. If he expected a reaction from James, he didn’t get much of one. All he really looked like was a man trying to hold in a cough.
“Alright, little soldier. Let’s get you to bed. You need to have lots of dreams so you have energy for all the fun we’re going to have tomorrow with your mom.”
Asher’s eyes lit up with excitement and happily took Thomas’s hand to lead him upstairs.
Alexander looked like someone had slapped him in the face. James turned his focus to Hamilton, seemingly unaffected by Asher’s appearance.
“For your debt plan to have the slightest hope of passing-”
“I didn’t know he could act so fatherly.”
Unsure of what to say, Madison pulled out his handkerchief and quietly coughed a few times. He had seen Thomas with Asher several times, taking him to see his office or meet new people when Y/N needed a little time to herself. Alexander still appeared to be tripping on his tongue, clearly thinking out what he wanted to say next. He opened his mouth several times before deciding to say;
“I thought Jefferson was more of a… um… catch-and-release type guy.”
“He was.”
“He isn’t now?”
James smiled cryptically before he answered “If I would have once called him a player in the game of lust, I would now say that he has traded his spades for hearts.”
“I never considered Jefferson one to fall for love.”
Hamilton looked perplexed and somewhat calmer, but Madison was clearly displeased with his comment. There was no mistaking the subtle venom in his voice as he quipped “Many would say the same of you, Alexander. Greed and lust leave a man far more vulnerable than love ever could. Although he may not be the man you thought you knew, he is a better father than you imagined him to be. All he is doing is trying to be there for a boy without a father, a position he has filled wholeheartedly.”
For the first time since the beginning of the meeting, the dining room was completely silent.
When Thomas found Y/N sitting on the rocking chair, he couldn’t help but grin at the small gray blanket that had been placed somewhat haphazardly over her legs and part of her abdomen. The person that tried to put it over her had clearly not been tall enough to reach, despite being on his tiptoes.
When Asher tugged at his hand questioningly, he focused his attention on getting him to go to sleep. Jefferson made sure to brush the little boy’s teeth- he had eaten again after all -and put his favorite stuffed animal in the bed with him. As Asher finally fell asleep, Thomas went back over to Y/N.
She was sleeping so peacefully. It was rare that she got to sleep early, so Thomas took great care not to disturb her as he lifted her up into his arms and carried her across the hall. Y/N was in her nightclothes already, and he just slipped her into her own bed and closed the door behind him as he left, choosing not to acknowledge the warm feeling in his chest as he did so.
A week after meeting Thomas, Jay was still visiting Hunter’s headstone every day. Her eyes were dry and she was finally starting to accept his passing, but she still wanted to stay close to him. Every day at 10 am like clockwork, she would arrive at the gravesite, rain or shine.
But three weeks after she had met the Virginian politician, Jay approached the site to see a small bench in front of the headstone. It was a respectable distance away from the grave marker, not on top of where he was buried- as if someone made sure it had been placed perfectly for a photograph. A small folded piece of parchment was sitting on the bench; it was addressed to her.
Jay,
I know that this bench will find use in your life. I hope my asking how often you came here didn’t cross any boundaries. Please tell me if you would like me to stop speaking with you or asking about you. However, If this bench makes your day even just a bit easier, it will be worth it.
You’re not alone.
Thomas Jefferson
Jay sat down on the bench, placing her skirts around her and feeling the weight of the stone bench beneath her. For the first time since his burial, she let herself speak aloud to Hunter. She went on about what was happening to her and the baby, always referring to them as their “little soldier”. She babbled on a bit, saying how she missed him and that she was living with the Everetts. It didn’t matter what she said to him; it mattered that she was saying it.
Annabelle walked up to the graveyard to see Jay suffering in her own thoughts. It wasn’t that she wanted to intrude, but she noticed that the young woman had been gone a bit longer than usual today. When she approached to see her sitting on a bench, she couldn’t help but smile. Thomas had dropped by every day around 10:30 to see if Jay was there, claiming that he wanted to check in with her husband, Samuel, about James Madison’s medications. Annabelle knew that he was checking to see if Jay really went to the graveyard every morning.
There was no doubt that the bench was his doing. She knew that Jay came back each day with grass and dirt clinging to the folds of her dresses, and she knew that Jefferson had seen her grievance first hand. He had never been impolite or suggestive when asking about Jay to Annabelle, but he instead seemed genuinely worried about Jay and her baby.
The expecting mother was nothing but polite to her and her husband, but she knew that both Abrahams were going to need more space. Space that the small guest house didn’t provide. She would never kick her out or suggest she leave in any fashion, but she was worried that Jay would try to leave by herself. She didn’t need to make it through this alone.
Perhaps I should have brought tea with me... Annabelle thought to herself as she sat next to Jay, but it was too late to go back to her house. Jay grasped her hand, giving a weak squeeze. Mrs. Everett squeezed back. Voice hoarse from talking, Jay murmured: “I only want what’s best for them...”
At the second squeeze of her hand, she continued.
“Hunter and I talked about kids. We always said that it would happen whenever the time was right. We would laugh about how the stars would align and our lives would come together at the perfect moment. I didn’t realize it would be in death.”
She stopped for a moment to compose herself. A sad smile of remembrance danced on her face. She was done with crying, but that didn’t stop the nauseous feeling from rising in the pit of her stomach. Getting up, Jay let go of Annabelle’s hand and began walking back to the doctor’s office, where she had agreed to have a check-up at 1 pm.
“Jay, may I come in please?”
She didn’t expect to see Thomas Jefferson standing at her doorstep at 6 p.m., but he had come this far and the Everetts trusted him. Gesturing into the small living room, she moved back from the doorframe to let him in.
“Mr. Jefferson, why are you here?”
He shifted uncomfortably and sat in a small chair, Jay now opposite him and looking at him skeptically. He was wringing his hands together, face looking down at his shoes and a few stray curls falling in front of his eyes.
“I didn’t think that I would actually do this, but here it goes for the hell of it: I don’t write legislation until it’s necessary to prove someone else wrong or to improve the country’s policy.”
Jay sent him a strange look, wondering why he came all this way to tell her this.
“I never feel truly alive when I write. I have a house that feels empty. All my friends live with their wives- which I understand- but they all have life in their worlds.”
He spoke so fast and nervous that he began to run out of breath. He gulped, then continued again, his voice a whisper of the confident man she had heard in the doctor’s office.
“You- for some reason- make me write and think like I’ve never thought before. I have this pull to help you. I don’t expect anything at all from you. Please, believe me. I know that your world seems like it’s flying around you right now. I just want to help you get the best possible future for you and your child.”
Thomas looked at Jay with kind but reserved eyes and she couldn't help but believe him as he continued to speak, slowly relaxing as he went on.
“Your husband was a Lieutenant under my best friend, James Madison, in the Orange County 3rd regiment. I have been told that he saved his life on more than one occasion. I understand if you decline, but I would like to help you. You and your husband have helped me more than you could ever know.
“Monticello is always open to you if you would like your own space. I have a number of rooms that aren’t in use that could be turned into a bedroom or nursery. Just say the word. Thank you, Jay, for your hospitality. I’m afraid that I have to go now, for I’m sure I have overstayed my welcome here.”
His coat swept behind him as he blushed bright red and hurried out the cottage, leaving Jay alone to gather her thoughts before she went to dinner next door.
Are you and Grace alright? There's been people disappearing and, admittedly, I just needed to check on you two.
We aren't disappearing nowhere, Belle. Come over to a dinner and check with your own eyes? I'll keep Grace close by just in case, so don't expect sole visits from her in the shop, but we can also swing by together, if you prefer to stay there.
I'm pretty sure that I can still make a mean good stew if I want to. I'd like to see you're hanging there too.
So magic was almost destroyed - along with the town. Where were you and Grace during this? Were you aware or? Also, Belle is back to being Belle
In all honesty, it was a Grace week, so I didn’t keep a close eye on the events. I know about Belle, because she called me (thanks sweetcheeks!), but other than that, I’m pretty behind the events.
I was teaching Grace how to play the recorder. (Or she taught me. It’s hard to tell some days.) She seems interested in music nowadays.
I’m sure Rumple and Emma took care of that anyway. They’d have given me a call if I were needed.
Things look good now. We’re settling in to our new lives fairly well! I try to make up for the time that we’ve spent apart, even though she doesn’t remember most of it; so it’s pretty time-consuming, but that’s the best kind of use of my time I can ever imagine.
Sometimes I wish her mother to be here. I made peace with her being gone, but it can be hard on Grace to be raised without a woman to look up to.
A week after meeting Thomas, Y/N was still visiting Hunter’s headstone every day. Her eyes were dry and she was finally starting to accept his passing, but she still wanted to stay close to him. Every day at 10 am like clockwork, she would arrive at the gravesite, rain or shine.
But three weeks after she had met the Virginian politician, Y/N approached the site to see a small bench in front of the headstone. It was a respectable distance away from the grave marker, not on top of where he was buried- as if someone made sure it had been placed perfectly for a photograph. A small folded piece of parchment was sitting on the bench; it was addressed to her.
Y/N,
I know that this bench will find use in your life. I hope my asking how often you came here didn’t cross any boundaries. Please tell me if you would like me to stop speaking with you or asking about you. However, If this bench makes your day even just a bit easier, it will be worth it.
You’re not alone.
Thomas Jefferson
Y/N sat down on the bench, placing her skirts around her and feeling the weight of the stone bench beneath her. For the first time since his burial, she let herself speak aloud to Hunter. She went on about what was happening to her and the baby, always referring to them as their “little soldier”. She babbled on a bit, saying how she missed him and that she was living with the Everetts. It didn’t matter what she said to him; it mattered that she was saying it.
Annabelle walked up to the graveyard to see Y/N suffering in her own thoughts. It wasn’t that she wanted to intrude, but she noticed that the young woman had been gone a bit longer than usual today. When she approached to see her sitting on a bench, she couldn’t help but smile. Thomas had dropped by every day around 10:30 to see if Y/N was there, claiming that he wanted to check in with her husband, Samuel, about James Madison’s medications. Annabelle knew that he was checking to see if Y/N really went to the graveyard every morning.
There was no doubt that the bench was his doing. She knew that Y/N came back each day with grass and dirt clinging to the folds of her dresses, and she knew that Jefferson had seen her grievance first hand. He had never been impolite or suggestive when asking about Y/N to Annabelle, but he instead seemed genuinely worried about Y/N and her baby.
The expecting mother was nothing but polite to her and her husband, but she knew that both Abrahams were going to need more space. Space that the small guest house didn’t provide. She would never kick her out or suggest she leave in any fashion, but she was worried that Y/N would try to leave by herself. She didn’t need to make it through this alone.
Perhaps I should have brought tea with me... Annabelle thought to herself as she sat next to Y/N, but it was too late to go back to her house. Y/N grasped her hand, giving a weak squeeze. Mrs. Everett squeezed back. Voice hoarse from talking, Y/N murmured: “I only want what’s best for them...”
At the second squeeze of her hand, she continued.
“Hunter and I talked about kids. We always said that it would happen whenever the time was right. We would laugh about how the stars would align and our lives would come together at the perfect moment. I didn’t realize it would be in death.”
She stopped for a moment to compose herself. A sad smile of remembrance danced on her face. She was done with crying, but that didn’t stop the nauseous feeling from rising in the pit of her stomach. Getting up, Y/N let go of Annabelle’s hand and began walking back to the doctor’s office, where she had agreed to have a check-up at 1 pm.
“Y/N, may I come in please?”
She didn’t expect to see Thomas Jefferson standing at her doorstep at 6 p.m., but he had come this far and the Everetts trusted him. Gesturing into the small living room, she moved back from the doorframe to let him in.
“Mr. Jefferson, why are you here?”
He shifted uncomfortably and sat in a small chair, Y/N now opposite him and looking at him skeptically. He was wringing his hands together, face looking down at his shoes and a few stray curls falling in front of his eyes.
“I didn’t think that I would actually do this, but here it goes for the hell of it: I don’t write legislation until it’s necessary to prove someone else wrong or to improve the country’s policy.”
Y/N sent him a strange look, wondering why he came all this way to tell her this.
“I never feel truly alive when I write. I have a house that feels empty. All my friends live with their wives- which I understand- but they all have life in their worlds.”
He spoke so fast and nervous that he began to run out of breath. He gulped, then continued again, his voice a whisper of the confident man she had heard in the doctor’s office.
“You- for some reason- make me write and think like I’ve never thought before. I have this pull to help you. I don’t expect anything at all from you. Please, believe me. I know that your world seems like it’s flying around you right now. I just want to help you get the best possible future for you and your child.”
Thomas looked at Y/N with kind but reserved eyes and she couldn't help but believe him as he continued to speak, slowly relaxing as he went on.
“Your husband was a Lieutenant under my best friend, James Madison, in the Orange County 3rd regiment. I have been told that he saved his life on more than one occasion. I understand if you decline, but I would like to help you. You and your husband have helped me more than you could ever know.
“Monticello is always open to you if you would like your own space. I have a number of rooms that aren’t in use that could be turned into a bedroom or nursery. Just say the word. Thank you, Y/N, for your hospitality. I’m afraid that I have to go now, for I’m sure I have overstayed my welcome here.”
His coat swept behind him as he blushed bright red and hurried out the cottage, leaving Y/N alone to gather her thoughts before she went to dinner next door.
