Author's Note: A one-shot that was created out of the correspondence between me and an anonymous roleplayer on Shamchat. Truly one of the most beautiful encounters I've had with a George Washington on the site. Enjoy!

The Warmest of Receptions

"I can't do this anymore!" Hamilton declared, his arms swinging in every direction he could think, the fury of a thousand horrible thoughts flowing through his head, "I've never seen someone so degenerate as to give up their honor for a shot at power! It's disgusting! Unthinkable! Unbelievable! How do I deal with this? I ought to set him straight! I ought to!"

Washington lowered his paper copy of the news, eyes glistening both with wisdom and that of age. "Alexander." He said, voice calm as always. "You sound as if someone has just committed an unforgivable sin against you." He shook his head, an amused smile on his face. "Take a seat, and we'll figure this out."

Alexander about collapsed into the chair beside the elderly founding father. Already, the arms of the seat were engraved by thin yet deep cuts in the fabric, his fingernails digging into it as far down as he could grasp the arms of the chair. Hot and audible heavings followed with every rise and fall of his chest, "A sin I'd say!" he finally spat, his body bending outward in recoil with his words, "And unforgivable! Oh, not even a divine power could reconcile this. I've had it! I've reached my wit's end and I refuse to stand to the side and let this blackmail... this scandal!... let fester without resistance."

The founding father let his hand catch his falling head, "Alexander..." He muttered, closing his eyes. Out of all the battles of the war, Washington knew they paled in comparison to Alexander. He was indeed a hurricane, as Washington had always referred to him as. "In simple words, what happened?" He shifted in his seat, changing from his relaxing position to that one of leaning forward, giving his unofficial son all his attention, the papers he was reading long since discarded. "Who was it this time?"

"If I were to say his name out loud, oh, I'm sure he'd show up right now to refute my rights to even address him by his name, let alone his title," Alexander said, his eyes looking as far away from his assumed father, the only father he had. His lips were bent and pressed firmly together in nothing short of a childish tantrum. The only thing missing was the screaming and crying and perhaps some physical display on the floor instead of a chair. Eventually, the silence that followed the gentle, straightforward words of the wise man beside him got to him. He sucked in a breath, lifting his chest before letting out his summary, holding back as much malice as he could. "Aaron Burr publicly murdered my father-in-law in an act of usurpation, employed only in order to insult me since he cannot do it in front of me."

"I doubt, of course," He spoke, leaning back in his chair, "That it was actual murder? I would have a different thing on my front page if that were true." The founding father sighed, "I assume by usurpation, you mean your father-in-law is no longer holding his position in government?" Washington fell back in his chair, "Alexander, you can not take every political action personally." He shook his head, "I wasn't at all offended when Jefferson resigned saying to my face that he was planning on running against me." He shook his head, looking older than he was, "I was relieved."

Hamilton retreated into himself, growing pale and restless, "Well, it was a metaphorical murder but still, the implications of it are without a lesser base! He's insulted my good name and in such a cowardly way as to hide behind the safety of the public eye so that I am without a method of retaliation. Have you heard of anything as dastardly as this? Oh, he came out of nowhere wielding the name of a party he has had no previous affiliation. Besides, Jefferson had intentions of leading this country with his own honest eye. Burr only wants the recognition of the position. He has no intention to do good from his post. That's all he's ever wanted. The damned fool! At least Jefferson made his beliefs clear."

"While it may be true that Burr isn't open with his beliefs, he certainly has some sort of compass that of which he guides his decisions." Washington tilted his head slightly, reaching for the drink resting on the corner of his desk. "And," He took a drink, the liquid clearing completely from the glass, "You've never done anything similar?" He asked gently. "I recall a specific young soldier entering my tent when Burr and I were discussing his might-be position as my right hand." Washington paused, letting silence fill the room. "Yet he didn't come charging after you." He paused, looking away in a sense of thought, "Or, at least, I wasn't aware he ever did."

He rose in the chair, a finger raising before he caught himself and let it rest in his lap, "Sir, you don't realize how long I've known him. I've assessed every action and every word in order to determine some hints at what his thoughts are but, trust me, he only lives off of impulses. As far as I've gathered, he only goes after that which is applicable to his honor, and then, it was only for a welcoming expression. He does not have morals. He wants fame." He paused to take a breath, "He's meticulous. For all I know, he had the impulse to steal my father-in-law's seat to make amends for years in the past. I wouldn't doubt it but if he felt his honor was in jeopardy, well, a real man would've confronted me directly. I do not mind going toe-to-toe about myself but when anyone of my relation is endangered, I cannot forgive that. My father-in-law is innocent. Aaron Burr is despicable for his actions regarding this." He finished, out of breath and face red.

"Are you insinuating that I've known him less or at a smaller level?" He challenged, lifting a brow. "Alexander, you must know that Mister Burr does not work on common thought." He eyed the would-be son before him, "I can say the same about you." Washington shook his head, raising a hand to wipe away any further comment of Hamilton's. "If you must really do something about your father-in-law's lost position, you can work to make sure it is not wasted by working with Burr." His eyes gleamed, "Alexander, you must know one doesn't stay in their position of government forever?" Washington reached for the napkin next to his now empty glass. He raised it to his lips and coughed gravely into it. "I left for more reasons than wanting to teach them about saying goodbye." With hesitance, he glanced at the napkin, eyes softening at the crimson liquid that met his gaze. "Burr so far has been agreeing with you so far with his new position, correct? Why fight him then?"

The scene before had muzzled the poor lad, at attention and leaning forward towards his dearest caretaker, that one man who bothered to put him in his place out of nothing more than compassion, "Sir..." he murmured finally, eyes wide as he watched Washington before letting his head bow, "He used to be my friend. A man I admired and desperately wished to converse with. Knowing him and the way he operates makes it hard to hold onto that youthful philosophy. I still believe his methods to be conventional and thus worthy of suspicion but..." he shook his head, ashamed now at his outbursts and how they wore wearily on the only father he ever wanted, even in that moment, "I know I've been rash in this but his actions never cease to leave me with my fists balled up in frustration." His tone was now careful, informative, yes, but a bit on the pensive side now.

Washington shifted again, now looking uncomfortable in the seat. "Alexander, perceptions of people always change, for better or for worse." He remarked. "You and Mister Burr have never seemed to see eye-to-eye, but do you consider him a greater enemy, or threat than a certain Jefferson whom you disagree with on numerous fronts?" Washington coughed once more, this time lurching forward. He removed the napkin again; the red stain thereon having grown. "You mustn't let your headstrong anger get to your sense of reason. You are just like me when I was younger." He closed his eyes. Washington apparently liked comparing himself to Hamilton with that line of 'Just like me.' He never failed to notice how it made the younger man well up with pride. "Headstrong and full of pride." He peeked open with an eye, "Being prideful is easy, taking a hit is harder."

Hamilton now sat in silence, unsure of how to further the conversation. There was nothing unsound about advice. Washington was right and no words from Hamilton could change that in his head. Washington's word was the divine word for him. He took no shame in accepting that, "Sir..." he breathed, "I'll do my best to work with Burr from now on... I just hope your words are enough to ensure that. I apologize. I'm sure this has been nothing sort of... of distasteful but I appreciate your patience. I always have, sir. Just..." he sighed, his head bobbing gently, "When you left, sir..." he had to clear his throat, "When you left, they treated me like the scum of the earth. I was without any aid. I know politics is a hostile business by the very creation but they look upon me as if I were an insect they were contemplating crushing."

"Nothing you could have said would be distasteful." He responded, tilting his head. He rested in his chair. He said it didn't bother him, but he looks far more tired and aged than earlier. Simply exhausted. "Ah, but you did have a way of getting on everyone's nerves. Everyone," He stressed, "was good on getting nerves of anyone whom they worked with." Washington paused, watching Hamilton quietly. "But you are so much more than an insect. You are smarter. Wittier. And they see it as a challenge they can not overcome, so they attempt to put you down." He coughed once more, "You..." He was interrupted by a cough he didn't seem to expect. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, trying his damnedest to act as if the red trail of blood he whipped away didn't exist. "Are certainly something this nation needs. So long as you keep a level head, a smart one, remember that you will grow this nation into that of which we dreamed." He closed his eyes, near collapsing into his seat. "I'm happy I've lived long enough to see it come about." His head lulled slightly, and he corrected it. "I'm old." He muttered, swallowing slowly. "I'm happy to have sat under my own vine..." He whispered to himself.

A moment of speechlessness, eyes fixed on his father before him, his body now raised and leaning forward. His hand rested on the former president's arm. He couldn't hide the redness. He couldn't hide the tears. He could hide the feeling of love that was missing in his life, especially from his early childhood. Eliza gave him abundant love, yes, but... but Washington replaced the gap in his heart and soul which he yearned to have filled, "Sir," he choked, almost whimpering. He swallowed harshly, a tear falling down the length of his face, "S-Sir..." he tried again, "I... I..." he shut his eyes briefly. Silence swarming his senses. A moment more and all the desperation and fear and anxiety and inability pouring into his final words. "F-father... don't leave me..."

Washington shook his head, "Alexander," He gave a pained laugh, "You always knew you'd have to say goodbye." He rubbed Alexander's arm. "I didn't come to visit for pleasantries, or because I thought an anger storm would come about." He remarked shortly, holding back a cough with trouble, "I came because I'm saying goodbye." The words were short and sweet, and ever so much to the point. Either Washington could face the impending broken-heartedness of Alexander, or leave him to find out at a later time. Yes, he hummed, face-to-face was better.

"But, sir..." he fought to hold together his composure, "There's so much that I don't yet know. Your guidance has kept me sure of myself even in times where the solution seemed invisible. How... how will I handle not having that, sir? How... how do I say goodbye?"

The first president didn't respond, his gaze left on Alexander for several moments. He snapped back into awareness, "Alexander, you faired under me long enough to know what I would say in any problem or altercation you may find yourself in." He responded, eyes falling closed. "You have my blessing to continue on." There was silence, and Washington coughed more. "Alexander, one last time..." He muttered, head falling, "Have a drink with me." He fell limp, hands stilling. "Teach 'em how to say goodbye." More silence. Washington gave a heavy breath, "I feel so old." He muttered with a slight laugh. He looked up, "Go talk with Burr, firstly. That'd be a great start... An excellent start." He fell quiet, "To saying goodbye." Washington fell still.

His head twisted and his whole form squirmed with the raging tears, "I will! I will, Sir! I promise that I'll make you proud," he assured him, regardless of the probability that Washington could still hear. He'd always hear. Hamilton felt that in his heart then. He'd always have the watchful gaze of his true father after him. A rough swallowing followed before he smiled at the sleeping Washington, "Thank you, sir, for teaching me how to say goodbye."