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1780, New Jersey
Inside Ford Mansion, the harshness and struggle thrust upon the Continental Army has faded away. Soldiers & generals dance and drink themselves silly, bathed in the warm white glow of the chandeliers above them.
Eliza’s been approached by many men tonight, although there is only one that has caught her eye. She watches him and his dear friends on a couch across from their table. The Frenchman, Lafayette, speaks rapidly in French to his mates, to their confusion. Mulligan and Laurens, the southerner, play a game of cards and nurse their ale. Hamilton simply gazes at Laurens.
At the moment she begins to lose herself in those violet blue eyes — she really has never seen a more vibrant blue in her life, not even rivaled by the ocean, nor her dear friend's latest attempt at dying her hair with a striking blue dye — Angelica appears beside her.
“Entranced by Hamilton, are we, sister?” She smiles, teasing as she takes a seat beside Eliza. “I fear so— look at him! He's simply beautiful, and I've heard he is a very intelligent man. Isn't he an aide-de-camp to Washington?”
Angelica sighs at her sister's wistfulness. “He is, although he is incredibly argumentative. Have you read those pamphlets? I'm surprised he isn't looking to talk the ears off his mates now!” She laughs.
Eliza looks at her sister with what ought to be love hearts in her eyes. “I really am rather enamored with him. I would rather enjoy his company, but he's preoccupied.” At this, she frowns, and her sister puts a hand on her shoulder.
“Fret not, Betsey. They're stationed here for a while longer, many more opportunities to court him. But be warned if you want to marry him, Alexander is not the kind of boy who seems like he wishes to settle. Always on his feet, writing or fighting, that one, love.”
Eliza leans into her sister's touch, watching the sea of people dance around her.
“Well, I'm going to try. I refuse to pass up that opportunity.” They laugh, and Laurens & Hamilton’s absence goes unnoticed.
“Jack, my dear boy, what—”
“Hush, Alex. I'm taking you outside.” Laurens yanks Hamilton from his seat, taking the both of them outside the noise of the ball and into the quiet, cold night.
The winter air is harsh, and Hamilton shivers in his ball clothes. John unbuttons his coat, noticing, and wraps it around Alex’s shoulders. He balks. “Jack! It's far too cold for chivalry, I mean-” His rant is cut off by John's lips on his, gentle and loving. Alexander pushes into the kiss, placing his hand on John's cheek, pink from the cold.
John pulls away after several moments, much to his lover's displeasure.
“My Alex. My love. Come down to the trees with me —yes, I know you'd prefer to be on me— but I want to do something special, my dear. Just for you.” He grabs Hamilton's hand, and leads him further into the darkness.
The only witnesses to their love were the stars, dotting the ink black sky above them, surrounding the Moon which acted as their guiding lantern through the night.
They arrive at a small gathering of trees, standing tall around them, reaching for the firmament. Laurens spins around to face Hamilton, taking his hands into his own. The only thing between them now was their frozen breaths.
“ As we cannot love in the open, I figured I would indulge you in the security of the night, away from any witness but the skies. Dance with me, my dearest. A dance all our own. “
Guided by the fading music from the mansion, they begin to dance, albeit clumsily. Alexander’s hands wrap around Jack's waist, and he pulls his love ever closer. They pause their dance only to capture their lips in a kiss — slow, for they have all the time in the world, here. As they find their rhythm, Alexander whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you too, my dear,” replies John, gazing into the depths of his lover's eyes.
“Someday I will make that promise to you eternal. Even if its legality is dubious, nothing changes the love which I have for you. Now hush and dance away this freezing cold.”
Hamilton begins to cry, and his Jack wipes it away on his sleeve, not interrupting their quiet waltz. Nothing matters, except fo
r him, Alex thinks. Nothing at all.