Chapter Text
As sleep left him, Hamilton blinked slowly, trying to figure out where he was.
It was only as he noticed the woman knitting in the chair to the side, that things slowly came back together. Professor Washington had asked to see him after class, had said there was someone he wanted Hamilton to meet... Only to introduce him to his wife.
Martha must have noticed his movements out of the corner of her eyes, though she didn't stop knitting even as she spoke, "Are you awake, dear? If so I can go make a fresh batch of tea."
Alexander was tempted to demand to be told what was going on, but when he opened his mouth no sound came out. The woman must have taken his silence as consent because she set down the scarf she appeared to be making and headed towards the kitchen. Hamilton took the time while she was gone to look around the room, trying to take in all the little details. The pictures on the mantel, one that must have been the Professor when he was younger, standing stoic in his dress uniform, another on what appeared to be his wedding day, embracing a much younger Martha Washington. When he turned his head, he realized that Martha was setting a cup on the coffee table, before returning to her previous seat, openly watching him now.
"Drink up, dear. Dinner is in the oven, it should be ready soon enough."
That was a starling comment, "Ma'am," he croaked out, trying not to flush at the sound of his own voice, "How long...."
Martha smiled, "You've been asleep for quite a bit. George considered waking you up before he left, but I insisted he let you rest."
Unable to speak, Hamilton nodded, still trying to figure out what was happening. He handled the mug with as much care as he could, relishing in the soothing heat as it slid down his throat. Dark eyes continued to regard the woman over the edge of the mug, watching her as she watched him.
It was Martha who broke the silence, "I suppose you're wondering why George brought you here."
Hamilton nodded and she spoke again, "I'm sorry that this conversation will be a bit one sided. I suppose I could fetch a note pad if it comes to it. Shall I?"
This time he shook his head, after all, he had numerous notebooks in his backpack if it came to it.
"Every couple of years George.... extends an offer to his previous students. Have you heard anything of it?" A pause and then, "No. Well, basically George feels it's important to... encourage skills that the college doesn't necessarily teach. Aaron.. I think his last name is Burr, has been trying to win George's favor this year. Considering he's in his last year, he is an attractive prospect for the position. However, George and I have spoken in depth on this subject, and while Burr is lovely and intelligent, George... fears he lacks a certain passion. "
It was probably improper for a Professor's wife to reveal the Professor's less than positive feelings about another student, but Hamilton couldn't help but grin and nod his head in agreement. Burr didn't only lack passion, he lacked spine, never taking a direct stance on any subject, though he debated beautifully on either side of the aisle when he was asked to.
"You're a freshman, we understand. George would not be offended if you turned him down, but he's impressed by your energy."
Finally Hamilton pulled out one of his notebooks, turning to a free page to sketch out his question before turning it to the small woman.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize I wasn't being clear. Dear, I need you to understand that it will be a lot of work. You need to consider realistically whether or not this is something you can undertake on top of your school work. George simply couldn't stand it if your grades suffered because of it. But he'd like to extend you to act as.... his right hand man, so to speak. His assistant."
Under the scrutiny of curious eyes, Martha continued, "This isn't something with the school, though if you don't have classes when he's teaching- he might ask that you come in and do an occasional lesson. Mostly he works with former students who seem to have political or activist aspirations, helping to hone them into... fine young people."
Alexander went to write something down, thousands of questions swirling in his head as the timer dinged from the other room. Martha swept to take care of everything and Hamilton continued to scribble down his thoughts. By the time Martha came to fetch him, he'd filled three pages with a collection of reactions and questions, had even begun transferring the most important ones to another page in a much neater version of his familiar scrawl.
Martha took the page with a bemused smile, even as she insisted that he sit and take a plate of casserole, "Hmm. George might need to answer most of these. If you're seriously considering the offer, might I suggest spending the night?"
At Alexander's wide-eyed look, she shook her head, "Now don't you think anything of it, young man. If you do become his assistant? It'll be a preset arrangement. George is fair, but he works hard and expects the same out of those in his tutelage. Late nights aren't uncommon, and he hardly approves of young men driving while exhausted. It isn't safe."
A chance to work with George Washington, to be his assistant, and a place that he could stay? Suddenly all his questions seemed unimportant, he didn't need to know if it was a paid position or what all his duties would be. Here was someone who was impressed by his work ethic, enough so that the Professor trusted that he could be pushed harder. A man he admired, who didn't back down from his beliefs and spoke with both eloquence and passion.
A man who seemingly believed in him against the odds.
Alexander finished eating his casserole, listening intently as Martha spoke of unimportant things, telling him about the Christmas party she was planning and who the neighbors were. He smiled and nodded occasionally, appreciating that she filled the silence for him, with no expectation that he'd respond. Whether this was because of his illness or her natural demeanor didn't matter.
When the dishes had been cleared, Martha took the notebook once more, reading his final question before having him follow her to the hall.
" Don't be silly, dear. You won't be staying on the couch, we have a spare room. You may consider it yours so long as you're in George's service."
It was more than he had any right to expect, she was far too kind, a thought he couldn't help but think as she paused, fingers on the door as he sat on the bed overwhelmed.
"Rest, dear. There will be a time for talk later."