Warnings- talk of depression, suicide attempts and character death

Jefferson sat in his office, trying to figure out what to do. He was losing to Burr – and his was losing more and more support by the day. They thought he was going to betray the country because of his time in France, and yet Arron Burr was so much better despite not having any real alliances to anything or anyone.

He looked towards his drawer, which was locked by a key that only he had a copy of. In the drawer were things that no one was allowed to see – mainly letters from Hamilton. Since Thomas found out that Alexander was suicidal, the two of them had formed an unlikely friendship, one where they exchanged letters of support when the other was in a tight spot.

With a sigh, Jefferson sat back and closed his eyes. He was concerned about his friend – no one had heard from him in almost two months. It was if one day he just vanished, taking his wife and children with him. Although he was worried for Alexander – what could have caused the man to disappear as if he had never existed in the first place? – Thomas had more pressing things to worry about.

The race against Burr was turning more and more in his opponents favor and Thomas was quickly losing ground with the voters. He had no idea how he was going to win this election, and it was keeping him up at night. He wished his eyes would stop burning every time he closed them, but he knew he couldn't sleep – not yet at least. People had been noticing the toll this election had on his body, commenting on how pale he looked and how much weight he had lost.

A knock came from the door. Madison opened the door without waiting for a response, the knock more of a formality than anything else. The other man looked just as tired as Thomas felt, but had a look of grim determination keeping his features alive.

"Sir, the final debate is tomorrow. You need to get some rest. You're no good to the nation if you collapse on stage." Madison said, taking in the disheveled man in front of him.

"I will," Thomas said, taking a deep breath and standing. He stretched, his spine cracking as reached for the ceiling. "I just wanted to finish some things up first." Madison was quiet for a moment.

"Hamilton endorsed you." He said quietly. Jefferson froze, arms still in the air mid-stretch.

"He… what?"

"He endorsed you. His official statement went out this afternoon. The polls are already changing. Burr is still in the lead but the gap is marginally smaller." There was a small, tired smile on Madison's lips. Thomas shot towards his partner, roughly placing his hands on the other man's shoulders.

"You're serious?" He asked. Madison nodded, confirming it. Thomas sat back down heavily, a strange feeling in his chest. "Did Hamilton say anything else?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Madison said warily. "Why?"

"I was just wondering if he had any explanation for where he's been hiding these past few weeks."

"No sir, nothing about that."

"Alright… I'll see you tomorrow before the debate." Thomas waved his friend away.

"Seriously Thomas," Madison said at the doorway. "Get some rest."

Jefferson just nodded and closed his eyes again, trying to get the burning to go away once more.

Thomas still couldn't believe it.

Somehow – against all odds – he beat Burr. He was now President of the United States of America. He was still in shock that Hamilton's endorsement changed the tides of the election so greatly.

He walked through the halls towards his office, where he needed to grab some papers before going to give some speech or another. He had already given so many that he had lost count. He went to his desk and hesitated. He knew he was needed soon, but something compelled him to open his drawer. The letter directly on top was the most recent one from Alexander, dated a day before he went missing in action.

"Thomas," the letter began, as did all the letters from Alexander. "I am afraid things are taking a turn for the worse once again. This time, however, it is not of my own doing. I'm sure you'll be quite surprised to hear that, seeing as I tend to dig all of the holes I fall into myself. My son had challenged another man to a duel and I am beside myself with worry, though there is nothing I can do to sway him. He is just as bullheaded as his father, that much is clear. I hope you are well, or at least better than you were in your last letter. I know this election has been hard, and I'm about ready to challenge Burr to a duel myself, simply for being such a pain in your side. Take care not to overwork yourself, for we all know what a beast you become when you are stressed. Signed, Alexander."

Thomas frowned at the letter. He had forgotten about what he said about his son. The election had put everything not pertaining directly to winning out of his mind. With a sinking feeling, Thomas prayed that the connection he just made wasn't true.

The clock chimed the hour and Thomas started. He let the letter drop back into the desk and grabbed the speech Madison had written for him before flying out the door. He didn't look back to see the desk was still open.

"I just have to grab my coat and I can finally go home." Thomas said to himself as he inched down the hall. His feet were on fire from standing for so long, and his voice was hoarse from all the speeches he gave. His head was spinning a little from the champagne that was opened in celebration, and he really just wanted to lie down. He knew he was going to sleep like the dead as soon as his head hit whichever pillow was closest.

He stopped at the door to his office, noting that it was open just a crack. Cautiously, Thomas pushed the door open to show a figure standing at his desk, rummaging through the top drawer. Thomas instantly jumped at the person, prepared to throw them away from the private letters that were supposed to be locked away. Just as he was about to yell, the figure spoke.

"Congratulations Thomas." The figure said softly. Thomas stopped dead and really looked at the person who had broken into his office. The blood drained from his face as he realized this disheveled person was Alexander, seemingly back from the dead.

He had lost a considerable amount of weight, his black jacket hanging loosely on his frame. His face was more gaunt – or at least what Thomas could see of his face. His hair was greying, more so than it should have in the short time he had been absent. The most disturbing thing, however, was the thick bandage wrapped around his forehead.

"Alexander…" Thomas was at a loss for words. "What in the world happened to you?" Hamilton gave a weak chuckle and pulled the desk chair out for Jefferson.

"It didn't work…" Hamilton said sadly.

"What happened to your head?"

"Did you hear about Phillip?" Alexander asked suddenly. Thomas just shook his head. There really hadn't been any word on any of the Hamilton's after they disappeared. Alexander chuckled again, but it sounded more insane than amused. "He was killed in a duel… we only got a few moments with him before he passed away…"

"Oh god, Alexander I'm so sorry…" Thomas genuinely couldn't even begin to imagine the absolute agony the man across from him must be going through. "But, where did you go?"

"Eliza and I took the kids uptown… we couldn't handle being in that house anymore. Every moment in those walls was a never ending nightmare. All I could hear was his laughter and his footsteps. I thought I saw him around every corner… there were some nights where I swore he was standing right in the other room, helping his brothers learn the piano... but no one was touching the piano anymore… after all that, I couldn't take it anymore."

"Alexander, what happened to your head?" Thomas had a sinking feeling he knew what happened, but was praying to any god that would listen that he was wrong.

"My hands were shaking too much," Alexander whispered, his expression hidden by the bandage. In the faint candle light, Thomas could see a dark stain on the white across his forehead. "I just wanted to see my son again but my hands were shaking too much… the bullet grazed my forehead rather than going through it." He gave a strangled chuckled that quickly turned into a small sob.

"Alexander…" Thomas was at a loss for words. Through everything, through all the breakdowns and close calls and drunken nights, he never thought Alexander would go that far.

"I regret it…" Hamilton whispered. A small bit of hope blossomed in Thomas' chest. If Alexander regretted it, then there was a chance he might be able to recover. He had hope, that was, until Alexander continued to speak. "I regret not finishing the job. I deserved it. I'm the one who gave his the pistol. I'm the one who told him to aim at the sky. If he had actually aimed at the demon who stole his life, maybe he would still be here… I should have died. I could have been with him again. I could have been with John and my mother again… I don't belong here Thomas. I don't deserve to live anymore."

Thomas' hand moved on its own accord. The sharp slap was muffled by the linen wrapped around Hamilton's head. Both men froze in shock, neither truly comprehending what just happened. Thomas took his hand back, cradling it to his chest. Alexander brought his own hand up to his cheek, trying to dull the sudden throbbing.

"None of that is true Alexander," Thomas basically spat. "What would Eliza do? What of the rest of your children? What about us in the government? What would we do if you really did just disappear for good? You would leave such a gap in everyone's lives. Hell, the cabinet basically fell apart these past few weeks without you!"

"Really?" Hamilton's eyes were wide with disbelief. Thomas nodded, a little shocked that Alexander didn't see it.

"How would Eliza have felt, losing her son and her husband? Being left all alone to care for and raise her children?"

"I…"

"You didn't think of that." Thomas supplied. Alexander hung his head in guilt.

"Thomas, I'm so sorry-"

"You don't have to apologize Alexander. You just have to prove to me and everyone else that you're strong enough to grow from this. Strong enough to move past this. You're a great man, Alexander, and I know you can overcome this. You can never replace Philip, I understand that. But you can work towards a future he would be proud of. You could become a man your son would have been proud of Alexander."

"Thank you Thomas…" Alexander sobbed, collapsing onto his knees. Thomas dropped down next to him, wrapping his arms around the other man's shoulders. Normally they weren't overly fond of physical contact like that, but neither of them complained in that moment. Alexander rested his head on Thomas' shoulder as he sobbed, weeks of pent up sadness and grief spilling out all at once. Thomas didn't say anything – he just let his friend cry.

"Do you want something to drink?" Thomas offered once Alexander had slowed his sobs into hiccups. The shorter man silently nodded, wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his mourning jacket. "We need to catch up. A lot has happened in the past few weeks."