Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9481508.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hamilton_-_Miranda
  Relationship:
      Aaron_Burr/Alexander_Hamilton
  Character:
      Aaron_Burr, Alexander_Hamilton
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Alternate_Universe_-_Politics,
      American_Politics, Vomiting, Grief/Mourning, Angst_with_a_Happy_Ending,
      Death, Coming_Out
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-27 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 28734
****** Write a New Beginning ******
by notevenyou
Summary
     When Aaron meets Alexander on a family vacation, Aaron doesn’t
     realize it will change his whole life.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Aaron was seventeen, and his parents had been in politics for as long as Aaron
could remember. His father was the respected public face of the pair, electable
and charming, and his mother the brilliant campaign manager behind the scenes.
While Aaron’s father had been a very successful New Jersey state senator for
years, their most recent campaign, this time the Democratic primary for the
1989 New Jersey governor's race, had ended in a loss. It was an unexpected
loss, and, having intended to spend the summer campaigning for the general
election, for once the Burr’s were left without a packed itinerary.
It was Aaron’s mother’s idea, like most of the ideas in the family, to spend
the summer in the Caribbean. A family friend, one of the many friends political
families like the Burr’s cultivated, owned a house on some small island that
Aaron had never heard of before. The family that owned it typically used it to
escape the cold of winter, and it was therefore free for all of the summer.
Before Aaron quite knew what was happening, he had been whisked away from his
friends, with only two suitcases (one of clothes, one of mostly books) to
accompany him.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what a blow it was for the family to lose
this election. He’d been learning how to smile for a crowd, and flatter a donor
since he was a child, but he was also seventeen. It was the summer before his
senior year of high school, and although he’d expected to be be involved in the
summer campaigning, he’d also expected some time to spend with his friends, and
to see if Chelle from the choir really was interested in him, or if that was
just the generous interpretation of said friends.
Instead, he finds himself on an island, and not even a big one. The first full
day after arriving, he and his parents take a tour of the island and it is
depressingly small, especially when he’s faced with spending the rest of the
summer here. His parents seem charmed, determined to escape the rush of their
typical lives.
For the next two days, Aaron tries to embrace their attitude, enjoying the
ocean and the sun. But two days is enough for him to feel like he’s reached his
limit. He’s never been much of an outdoor person, and there’s just so much sun.
How much entertainment can be derived from sleeping in the heat like basking
reptiles? More for his parents than him, that much is clear.
For the next two days after that, Aaron spends most of his days in his room,
reading the books he’s brought. He’s content enough, although he can’t help but
worry about running out of reading material before the end of summer, but his
mother is not so distracted by the soporific sun as to allow her only child to
become a hermit.
On the sixth day of what is going to be an interminable summer, after the
shared family lunch, she gives him his marching orders. The orders are fairly
broad: go out, meet some people his own age, explore the island a little, have
a new experience, learn something - just no sitting in his room pretending he’s
at home.
There’s no space for argument when his mother makes up her mind, so Aaron puts
on a pair of sunglasses and heads out into the blindingly bright day. He’s at a
bit of a loss, but wanders aimlessly towards the town, not sure how he’s
supposed to find people his own age, much less ingratiate himself.
Before he’s gone far at all, he hears the sounds of someone running across the
sand behind him. When he turns around to look, somehow, it’s a girl his own
age, jogging up to him. The girl holds out a hand, and says in a slow southern
accent, “Hi there. You’re staying at the Grayville house?”
Rueful acknowledgement that Aaron should never doubt his mother’s power to mold
the universe to her will fights with interest as he shakes the girl’s hand,
“Yes. I’m Aaron.”
She smiles, a slight flush on her pretty, freckled cheeks, “Oh, I’m Denise. I
just saw you there, and I thought maybe you might be, I don’t know, bored or
looking for something to do.”
He smiles his most charming smile, and she flushes a bit more, “You’ve got me
exactly.”
She looks a bit relieved, “Oh good. Or not- I mean, I’m glad I’m not bothering
you.” Then, with a bit of bravado, she takes his arm and steps toward town,
“Let me show you where we hang out. There’s a group of us, bored, tourist
teens.”
Her long curly hair is brushing his arm, and Aaron follows willingly, “Where
are you staying?”
She looks over at him, “Oh! I’m your neighbor, just one more house back.” She
gestures back the way they came.
“Good to know.”
On the short walk to wherever she’s leading him, they establish that she’s
going into her junior year at a private school in the Atlanta area, and that
her family is here for another week “A whole three weeks total,” she says with
a touch of despair. She sighs sympathetically when Aaron confesses his family’s
plans to be here just over two months.
She ends up taking him to what he can only describe as a rundown shack. He
supposes in the past it was some sort of boathouse, but now it’s a weathered
and barely holding together collection of wood, on the edge of some untamed
trees and bushes. If it were anyone other than this smiling, friendly girl
leading him there he might think he was on his way to be murdered. Even her
smile might not have been convincing if it wasn’t so bright out.
However, inside is a couple of other teens, looking no more murderous than your
average teen. A boy Aaron’s age, blond and withdrawn, introduces himself as
Spencer. There’s a girl Denise’s age, who assess Aaron with sharp eyes and
introduces herself as Lindsay.
Aaron has achieved his goal of meeting people his age, but it rapidly becomes
apparent that it’s only a partial solution to his boredom. They’re all quick to
acknowledge that there isn’t much to do on the island. From what Aaron can pick
up from the conversation, days are pretty much filled with the same swimming,
reading, or sunbathing that he could get at the vacation house. The difference
is the conversation, which Aaron supposes will improve once he knows the
players well enough to follow the gossip. Learning about each other takes up
part of the afternoon, especially when a sister and a brother (Lisa and Daniel)
show up a bit later. He’s also assured that if he comes back in the evening,
he’ll meet some of the local teens, most of whom work during the day.
From what Aaron can gather, the evenings are when the real fun begins. There’s
a group interest in whether he can procure any alcohol or at least some
cassettes with good music. He hedges, not wanting to commit to anything before
he has a chance to observe an evening himself. Finally around dinner time,
after securing his promise to return in the evening, Denise guides him home,
still holding on to his arm.  
If drinking and romantic entanglements are the main forms of entertainment,
Denise is already making her interest in Aaron clear. Aaron has no problem with
that, spending the trip back to the vacation house walking close enough that
their sides brush, and admiring the deep color of her eyes, and soft curve of
her smile. She squeezes his hand when they part by his house, promising to see
him later.  
The lingering sensation of her hand in his leaves him anticipating the evening.
His parents seem to believe that his curfew also is on vacation, and they seem
pleased to learn that he’s made friends, so there’s no problem getting away.
They appear generally unconcerned about what he could get up to on this small
island, although his mother sees him off with the casual reminder, “Don’t
drown, and don’t get anyone pregnant.”
Denise meets Aaron at the end of the walk stretching out from the vacation
house. She’s changed her shorts for a skirt, and her t-shirt for a something
with a bit lower neckline, which Aaron tries not to let his eyes get caught on.
He tells her she looks nice, and she graces him with one of her soft smiles,
freckles lost in the dim of the evening. It’s dark enough that she has a
flashlight with her, but when they get to the shack someone has built a fire.
There’s a handful of new people there, two girls that Aaron thinks might be
sisters, one about his age, and one who looks quite young, and a boy, probably
Aaron’s age, with dark hair and a sly smile.
It’s not that much different from the afternoon at first, people sitting around
talking, but the dark and the flickering firelight makes everything seem more
exciting, a feeling that is only heightened by the bottle of rum that is being
passed around. After awhile, when everyone is pleasantly buzzed, someone turns
up the boombox, switching out the cassette from the soft music that’s been
playing for something danceable.
Denise pulls Aaron up to dance, and he tries to keep up with her, despite the
rum and the soft sand underfoot, blunting his coordination. It’s fun, a bit
breathless, and it gives them an excuse to touch. Sparks run up Aaron’s spine
every time she brushes against him, and he tries to return the favor with
careful hands on her waist and back.
Most of his attention is on Denise, but he sees the way that Lisa and the new,
younger girl, Mira, have retreated outside of the circle of dancing, laughing
with each other under the watchful eye of their older siblings who are dancing
together. Lindsay and Spencer are also dancing together, although he looks
bored and she looks annoyed. Alexander, the boy with the sly smile, is the odd
man out, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. First, he cuts in on Lindsay and
Spencer, which would probably have worked if his attention wasn’t on Spencer,
who rebuffs him in no uncertain terms. Frankly Aaron is worried for a moment,
distracted from Denise and afraid for Alexander, but Alexander just laughs and
Spencer turns back to Lindsay. Aaron relaxes and refocuses on Denise, it must
have been a joke.
Aaron is lost in the scent of Denise’s hair, and doesn’t quite notice when
Alexander joins them. Alexander doesn’t try to cut in this time, instead he
slides up behind Denise, and by the time Aaron notices, the three of them are
dancing together, more or less. Denise doesn’t seem to mind, her expression as
she looks at Aaron is sparkling and flushed, and Aaron goes along with it,
smiling back at her.
Noting Aaron’s acceptance, Denise grins, and twists in his arms so she’s facing
Alexander. Aaron leans into her shoulder, feeling the skin bared by the wide
neckline of her shirt brushing against his cheek, and watches the two of them.
Aaron has an arm around Denise’s waist, and she has her arms over Alexander’s
shoulders, and the three of them sway together. It’s fine, but then someone is
running a gentle hand along the inside of Aaron’s wrist, where it’s pressed
against Denise’s waist, and it can’t be Denise. Aaron’s eyes meet Alexander’s
in shock, and it’s like he’s trapped there for a long moment, the three of them
stuck in a stretch of time that’s slow and and sweet, like dripping honey.
Alexander looks mysterious in the flickering light of the fire, the sly smirk
absent for the moment, his eyes dark and unreadable. Another hand slides just
under the edge of Aaron’s shirt, touching his back lightly and Aaron’s breath
catches with it, caught between the sensations of Denise’s hair tickling his
face and Alexander’s fingers brushing his back.
But then the moment passes, Alexander moves on before someone else notices that
he was touching anyone other than Denise. The next thing Aaron knows,
Alexander’s dancing with Lindsay, and more than dancing, they’re making out,
deep, familiar and purposeful. It feels like maybe Aaron imagined Alexander’s
touch and he pushes it from his mind. Another indeterminate stretch of time
passes, and then Alexander and Lindsay have disappeared together, and then a
bit later still the party is breaking up.
Aaron and Denise are the only ones who head back in the direction of their
houses, and they walk slowly, bumping into each other, half alcohol and half
just an excuse to touch. Aaron feels giddy with both. Not quite halfway back,
Denise stops Aaron on an empty stretch of sand. They’re out in the open, but
there’s no one around, and, aside from the moon and stars, it’s dark. She
kisses him and he kisses back eagerly, too hazy with drink and lust to care
where they are. They end up making out laying in the sand, not quite willing to
go any further here in the open, no matter how dark, but enjoying each other’s
kisses. Eventually they part and lay there catching their breath. They admire
the stars, more than you could ever see in any city, until they’re ready to
face sneaking back into their respective houses.
Luckily Aaron’s parents are asleep, so he doesn’t have to describe his night,
or pretend to be sober.
He drifts to sleep right away, but an unknown amount of time later he wakes
from a series of dreams about Denise’s soft curves and hard kisses, mixed with
Alexander’s smirk and warm hands. Aaron is achingly hard, and it only takes a
few strokes before he’s coming with a groan that he muffles in his pillow. He
quickly drifts back to sleep, leaving the confusing dreams behind in the night.
# 
Denise and Aaron spend the next week having aimless conversations that are more
about all the subtle ways they can brush up against each other while talking
than the supposed topic, and the nights doing whatever they can on the dark of
the beach. 
The others in the group have their own dramas, with Lindsay going back and
forth between trying to attract Spencer and hooking up with Alexander. No one
seems very serious about anyone else though, even Aaron would have to admit
that as much as he likes Denise they never really talk about anything
meaningful, and he has no real expectations. When Spencer finally sees
Lindsay’s appeal, and Alexander is again a third wheel, it doesn’t really
surprise Aaron that Denise spends nearly as much time casually flirting with
Alexander as she does making out with Aaron.
When Denise leaves at the end of the week Aaron is sad to see her go, but
neither of them pretend that they’ll keep in touch.
A new girl, Sasha, joins the group the day after Denise leaves, but she quickly
gets taken in by Alexander’s charm and the week she spends on the island is
mostly with him. Aaron is left to observe the various hookups, with no real
desire to pursue anyone. It’s a little bit like watching a soap opera, and
that’s its own entertainment.
When Sasha leaves, there’s an imbalance in the group, too many guys and not
enough older girls, and the drama is more in the gossip than the actual
hookups. The first night of this new alignment is a bit dull and Aaron excuses
himself earlier than usual, his books looking like the more appealing option. 
He’s just far enough from the party for the light of the fire to have faded in
the distance when he hears someone running up behind him, and turns with a
sense of deja vu. Of course this time it’s not Denise, she’s gone back to
Atlanta, but in the dark, lit only by Aaron’s flashlight, it takes him a minute
to place Alexander.
“What’s up?” Aaron asks, pointing the flashlight at the ground.
 Alexander laughs, awkward, “Uh,”
Aaron waits, patient, but confused.
Alexander huffs another small laugh. Then he moves closer to Aaron, and slowly
places a hand on Aaron’s shoulder.
Aaron freezes for a moment, shocked.
Alexander cautiously moves his hand along Aaron’s shoulder, until his thumb is
just over the collar of Aaron’s shirt, just barely in contact with Aaron’s bare
skin.
The sensation of Alexander’s touch makes Aaron shiver, but he can’t. Alexander
might be just as attractive as Denise, but where a summer fling with Denise
could be meaningless fun, it’s not so simple to casually hook up with a guy.
Not with Aaron’s family in the public spotlight, and anyway who knows what the
law is here on this island. Without saying anything, Aaron steps back, out from
Alexander’s touch. Let Alexander wait for the next girl to roll into town. 
Alexander drops his arm, and says in his soft accent, “Right. I’m sorry.” 
Aaron wraps one arm around himself, still loosely holding the flashlight in the
other, “It’s fine.”
“Goodnight then,” Alexander says, and turns back, leaving Aaron to walk slowly
home, trying not to feel like he’s let fear ruin what could have been a good
night. 
#
The next night Alexander spends the evening trying to win Lindsey away from
Spencer, and when Aaron leaves the gathering early he does so without
interruption.
Spencer and Lindsay are both gone home within the next week, replaced by
another handful of teens and dramas. Aaron remains contented to stay out of the
fray except for the occasional dance and a stolen kiss here or there from Luna,
the older sister of the two local sisters. By the beginning of Aaron’s fourth
week on the island he’s realized that most people stay for a week, maybe two,
and his family’s two and a half months is something strange. It leaves him
feeling oddly detached from the people he meets, and he starts to understand
Alexander and Luna’s casual attitude, and perhaps even more the other teens who
live on the island, but chose to have nothing to do with the tourists in their
off hours.
At the open of Aaron’s second month on the island there’s a lull in people
Aaron’s age, most of the families visiting now have small children. To avoid
worrying his mother though, Aaron just takes his books to the shack. It’s
pretty comfortable reading in the shade of it, and the view of the ocean is
beautiful, if familiar at this point. His evenings are free again.
By the second afternoon of this new arrangement Aaron’s getting a little bored
- apparently two days is his limit for solitude. Although he’s deep into his
book, right in the middle of a theoretically gripping murderous coup, he can’t
focus. Instead, he’s watching the gulls wheel above the water, the book lying
closed on his knee, his finger wedged between the pages to mark his spot.
He’s achieved a sort of zen non-thought, starting to tilt slightly towards
drowsy, when a shadow falls over him, pulling him back to reality with a start.
It’s Alexander, who smiles down at Aaron and then settles against the wall next
to him, “Hello.”
Aaron greets Alexander in return, studying him out of the corner of his eye.
Aaron’s never really seen Alexander in the light of day. He’s still lovely, but
it’s apparent that his clothes are worn in a way that sets him apart from the
tourists. Aaron’s only ever seen Alexander on the prowl, but now he’s just sort
of there, looking out on the water, and without the smirk he seems softer.
Finally Alexander says, “I had some time and thought I’d come by and see if
there would be people around tonight.”
Aaron shrugs, “It’s just me as far as I know.”
Alexander nods, and then tilts his head to read the spine of Aaron’s book,
which is a thick history of Rome. He seems interested, “Do you like history?”
Aaron answers, “Yes, I like to know how we got where we are. To maybe avoid
making the same mistakes. You?”
“Oh yes,” Alexander is animated suddenly in a way that’s very different from
his lazy seduction at the nighttime gatherings. “I love to learn about all the
different ways people live, have lived, the different possibilities,” he
glances at the water again, and something wistful in his gaze makes Aaron
wonder if he’s ever left this island. Alexander laughs a little, seemingly
embarrassed by his own enthusiasm, “I like history, but novels too. Books in
general.”
Aaron doesn’t find anything embarrassing about an interest in books. After
weeks of conversations mostly consisting of gossip about people he barely
knows, and two days of solitude, he can’t think of much that would be more
interesting than a good conversation about literature, “Tell me your favorite
book. Or maybe that’s too hard? Your favorite book right now.”
Alexander’s favorite book is one that Aaron had read, and not much enjoyed, but
Alexander defends it so passionately that Aaron finds himself wanting to reread
it so that he can understand it like Alexander did. They have a spirited debate
on the merit of that book, and then Aaron’s favorite, and then jump around
debating anything they’ve both read until suddenly Aaron realizes the sun is
starting to set, and dinner must be long past.
The conversation has pulled Aaron from the torpor of sunlight that has been
most of his past month, and even as he hastily gathers himself to go make his
apologies to his parents for missing dinner, he stops to say, “Maybe I’ll see
you tomorrow? We’ve barely started on fiction.”
Alexander smiles at him, not the smirk that Aaron has admittedly occasionally
fantasized about, but a small genuine smile, and says, “Maybe so.”
#
They do meet the next day, and the day after that. Aaron quickly realizes that
Alexander isn’t just smart, he’s brilliant. The connections he makes, the way
he seems to remember everything he’s ever read, and the careful arguments he
seems to be able to make up on the fly are amazing. He’s also quite well read,
although there are some odd gaps in his knowledge. 
On the third day they are deep in an argument about a book that neither of them
ever thoroughly read, unable to settle it, when Aaron says, “Oh come on, I know
we have a copy back at the house.” He’s already three steps gone, mentally
constructing his next argument, when he realizes that Alexander didn’t follow
him, and turns back.
Alexander’s hovering in the shadow of the shack, “You want me to go to your
house?” He looks unsure, an expression Aaron’s never seen on his face before.
Aaron doesn’t think it suits him, “Sure, come on. You can show me how right you
are.”
Alexander still looks unsure, but he does follow Aaron. Once in the house,
Alexander looks around carefully, and Aaron suddenly understands his hesitance.
Alexander does look out of place in the house, the expensive decor makes
Alexander’s frayed clothes seem all the more shabby. It seems ridiculous to
Aaron that it should be so though, what is expensive furniture to a mind like
that?
Aaron tries to distract Alexander from his discomfort by grabbing the book and
leading Alexander back to his bedroom. Away from the more grandiose features of
the house, which Aaron had never given much thought to until he sees the way
that Alexander’s eyes catch on the polished wooden bannisters, and the heavy
light fixtures.
Alexander doesn’t initially seem any more comfortable in Aaron’s room, but once
Aaron hands him the book and manages to reignite the debate, Alexander seems to
forget his discomfort in his rush to make his points.
After they’ve settled the issues as far as either of them are willing to
concede, Alexander’s gaze wanders around the room. His eyes are drawn to the
bookshelf which has the books Aaron has brought with him from home, “Can I
look?”
“Of course,” Aaron says, and watches as Alexander peruses the small collection.
Alexander runs through the books, a small comment here and there, and then
pauses on a well worn paperback of The Grapes of Wrath, “Ah, this one I’ve
always meant to read. It’s supposed to be a good snapshot of the great
depression in America, right?”
“Yeah. It’s a good book too.”
Alexander touches the spine, before going on, but Aaron abruptly stands.
“Here.” He strides over and pulls the book off the shelf, “Take it.”
Alexander moves back from the outstretched book, “Oh no, I couldn’t.”
Aaron rolls his eyes, “Of course you can. Read it. I want to know what you
think.”
Alexander hesitates, “I could borrow-”
Aaron shakes his head, takes the book back to the desk that Alexander had been
sitting at, and finds a pen. On the inside cover of the book he writes, ‘To
Alexander, From Aaron, Summer 1989.’
He gently blows on the page to dry the ink and then hands it to Alexander, “Now
you have to take it.”
Alexander glares, but takes the book with a reverence that belies the frown. He
opens to the inside cover and reads it, lingering before he finally says,
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” Aaron says, and then is suddenly struck by the need to be a good
host, “Do you want any snacks? A drink?” 
Alexander looks taken aback, “No, I’m fine.”
Aaron can’t quite shake the feeling that he’s falling down as a host though, so
he fetches them both a glass of water and then sets Alexander off so Aaron can
hear his thoughts on Shakespeare. Aaron listens, content as Alexander launches
into a discussion of Lear with almost no input from Aaron.
Eventually Aaron’s dad pokes his head in the room, “I thought I heard voices.”
Aaron introduces them. Alexander looks pale and nervous and calls Aaron’s dad
sir, but Aaron’s dad accepts him as if Aaron brings home locals everyday, “Will
you be staying for dinner?”
Alexander demurs, and then makes his excuses as if he needs to be home right
now. Aaron doesn’t try to make Alexander stay, but only pauses his flight for a
moment, with a hand on his arm, “Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 
Alexander fidgets, “I have work in the morning.”
Aaron nods, “What time are you free?”
Alexander studies him, although what he’s trying to see Aaron couldn’t say.
Finally Alexander says, “Maybe three?” 
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
Alexander nods, and then flees.
#
The next day, Alexander seems more settled. Aaron doesn’t bring up going to the
house again, until three days later when a storm interrupts their lazy
discussion of economics. The shack has a roof in theory, but it’s not up to the
task of the downpour that’s currently falling, and Alexander barely protests
when Aaron declares for the house. He follows Aaron, both of them laughing as
they run through the deluge. They’re soaked by the time they reach the house,
and Aaron suspects that perhaps staying in the shack would have been the more
logical choice, but the sight of Alexander flushed with the run and with
laughter, water dripping from his hair, and clothes clinging, makes it
difficult to regret the decision. Anyway, at the house they can dry off.
Aaron’s parents are there in the family room, but they only laugh indulgently
at Aaron and Alexander, and Aaron whisks Alexander off to his room before
Alexander can get too awkward.
Aaron hands Alexander some dry clothes and a towel and points him to the
bathroom, so he can change in private. Aaron initially gets distracted from
changing his own clothes by the realization that his bedroom windows are open,
shutting them against the wind that’s blowing the rain inside before worrying
about his clothes. He’s just pulling on the dry shirt when some sound makes him
turn back to the door, where Alexander is standing, a bundle of damp clothes in
his hand. Alexander’s eyes are clearly focused on where Aaron’s chest is bare,
and when Aaron’s shirt falls belatedly into place, Alexander’s gaze jumps to
Aaron’s face with guilty speed.
He seems to realize that he’s been caught, and flushes, eyes darting away from
Aaron all together. Aaron clears his throat and politely pretends not to
notice, taking the damp clothes together with his own to the laundry room to
dry, leaving Alexander behind to gather himself. 
As Aaron loads the dryer carefully and deliberately, trying to keep his hands
steady, he considers. He had begun to believe that he imagined Alexander’s
earlier advances, hidden as they were in alcohol and darkness. Alexander had
seemed so clearly uninterested since they actually started talking that Aaron
had thought maybe he had made something of innocent touches, his own strange
desires driving him to imagine something that wasn’t there. But there was no
mistaking that look, or the reaction to getting caught. And perhaps that was
the why. Aaron had rejected him once and for all Alexander knew Aaron’s
rejection wasn’t caution on his part, but pure disinterest. Why would Alexander
pursue a one sided attraction, when Aaron had been polite enough to let it go
when most wouldn’t?
But the real question was, what did Aaron want to do? In theory he’d made his
mind up about this long ago, with one step backward in the dark. But that was
before he’d known Alexander. It was one thing to risk himself for a fling with
a seemingly smug, albeit handsome playboy, and quite another to risk for
Alexander, the smartest person Aaron had ever met. For someone who challenged
Aaron in ways that most people couldn’t, and yet somehow found the humility to
feel awkward in the trappings of wealth. A person who felt no compunctions
about trying to tear down Aaron’s beliefs, but carefully called Aaron’s
parents, “sir” and “ma’am.” For him Aaron might risk quite a lot, even just for
a moment of his time.
When Aaron returns to his room, Alexander has composed himself. Whatever
unwanted desire, or shame had slipped out was tucked neatly away behind a mask
that’s so convincing that Aaron could almost begin to doubt himself again. But,
the mask flickers just slightly when, unlike Alexander’s last visit, Aaron
closes the door behind him. It’s a small expression, too quick for Aaron to
even say what emotion it is, and Aaron surely would have missed it if he wasn’t
watching Alexander so closely.
Unable to stand the idea that what is being hidden might be fear, Aaron walks
straight up to where Alexander is sitting on the edge of the bed. Without
saying anything, he gently places a hand on Alexander’s shoulder, and then
slides it up just enough let his thumb brush Alexander’s neck, where he can
feel the quick thrum of Alexander’s pulse.   
It’s a deliberate echo of Alexander’s advance weeks ago on a dark beach, Aaron
trying to say, ‘I’ve been thinking about you’, ‘I want you’, and ‘please’ all
at once. Alexander breathes in sharply, the mask falling away to reveal
something like wonder and hope.
It’s enough of a yes, that Aaron leans in for a kiss. He moves slowly and
deliberately, allowing Alexander every chance to back away, but Alexander
doesn’t, his dark eyes fixed on Aaron’s. The kiss itself is soft at first, warm
and gentle. 
Then Alexander opens his mouth under Aaron’s and pushes up toward him, turning
it from warm to hot in an instant. It’s the kind of sensation that could sweep
a person away, and all Aaron wants to do it get closer to Alexander, to feel as
much of him as possible. However, the knowledge that Aaron’s parents are only a
few rooms away, and have no compunction about dropping into his room leads
Aaron to pull back after only a few desperate moments, during which they’ve
tumbled back into the bed, “My parents.”
Alexander looks gratifyingly fuzzy for a minute, that sharp mind blunted by a
haze of lust, but then scrambles out from under Aaron, “Would they just…”
“Yes,” Aaron says, grimly.
Alexander pales, and then sets to righting himself, wiping his mouth, smoothing
his hair, and straightening his clothes, “This will have to wait then.”
He seems firm, and, given his caution around Aaron’s parents generally, it’s
hardly a surprise. Anyway, Aaron is all for caution, he’s not sure how his
parents would take such a thing, best just not to find out. He reaches out for
Alexander though, “But, uh, some other time?”
Alexander’s gaze softens, and with a cautious look at the shut door, he darts
in for a quick kiss, “Yes.”
Aaron smiles at him, and after straightening his own clothes goes out for
snacks, and leaves the door open upon his return. When Aaron’s mother drops in
twenty minutes later, Aaron and Alexander are laughing over Aaron’s recap of a
film he saw last year, a good two feet in between them. 
#
Finding that other time to be together turns into the challenge of the next few
days. At first they try the shack, but after two glorious days exploring each
other in the dim heat of the afternoons, on the third day they arrive to find
Mira, Luna and a new crop of tourists, a whole gaggle of cousins together on a
family trip. This does reopen the possibilities of night time parties, although
without Spencer’s boombox they’ve lost some of the rhythm that made those
earlier parties fun. Also, there is the issue of the interrelatedness of most
of people there, which reduces the romantic possibilities and, worse, leaves
Aaron and Alexander both highly in demand. It’s difficult to sneak away
together, although with some determination they manage it.
The moon is on the cusp of fullness, and the nights seem too bright. Neither of
them can quite relax, and as such they never make it much past furtive kisses.
Frustrating days of only catching a few moments alone, with no hope of true
privacy, pass. Finally, one night, Alexander pauses their midnight kisses and
props himself over Aaron. He’s lit by the moon and Aaron is at first too
distracted to realize that he’s asked something, “What?”
Alexander’s not meeting Aaron’s eyes now, “I said, maybe tomorrow you could
come over to my house in the afternoon. My mother will be at work until
evening.”
He’s never discussed it in detail, but Aaron knows it’s just Alexander and his
mother, has always been just the two of them. It’s a logical solution, but
Aaron’s not so oblivious that he hasn’t noticed that Alexander has been
avoiding bringing Aaron into his everyday life. For instance, Aaron knows
Alexander works in the mornings, but not where. He’s never said much about his
home, and this invitation feels more significant than the implicit sexual
offer, somehow more personal. Aaron kisses him softly on the cheek, “I’d like
that.”
Alexander turns, transforming the gentle gesture into an open mouthed kiss, but
it doesn’t escape Aaron’s notice that he looks pleased.
#
They meet on the edge of town the next day, avoiding places where they might
run into the hoard of cousins. Alexander leads Aaron back to his home without
speaking. It’s Aaron’s turn to feel out of place, as Alexander leads him into a
part of the town that is clearly not meant for the tourists to see. Some
children playing in the street seem to glare suspiciously at Aaron as if they
can tell he doesn’t belong, and Aaron tries not to stare as the houses get
smaller and more rundown.
Alexander’s house is very small, one story and square. It seems to have once
been painted a bright yellow, but the paint is now faded and peeling. Alexander
gives him a tour, stubbornly refusing to meet Aaron’s eyes. There’s a small
living room, a smaller kitchen, a bathroom and two bedrooms. The whole thing
could probably fit into the family room in the vacation house, and it feels
overstuffed with shabby furniture.
Alexander’s room is as small as the rest of it, most of the space taken up by
the twin bed and a chest of drawers, but along the walls, on top of the
drawers, under the bed, wherever there’s space, Alexander has stacks of books.
Aaron is fascinated by this glimpse into what’s made Alexander. They seem to be
sorted roughly, one set of stacks is history, another science, deep in the
corner are an eclectic collection of cheap paperback novels, thrillers and
romances, that momentarily puzzle Aaron until he realizes that these are
exactly the sort of books to be left behind by beach reading tourists. Most
intriguing is a stack of cheap notebooks, clearly filled, almost certainly by
Alexander, but Aaron avoids these, presuming the contents to be private, and
instead kneels by the history books reading the spines. 
Aaron’s genuinely interested to see what Alexander deems worthy of collection,
and manages to be surprised by the feeling of Alexander’s hand on his shoulder,
“Did I bring you here to judge my book collection?” 
Aaron leans back to smile up at Alexander, “It’s a bonus.”
Alexander smiles back fondly, and then bends for a kiss. Suddenly all thoughts
of literature leave Aaron’s mind as he leans up into the kiss, and reaches to
pull Alexander further down. It’s an awkward angle, and eventually Alexander
straightens, moving to the bed “Come on.” 
Aaron can do nothing but follow, plastering himself on top of Alexander, and
enjoying the freedom to lose himself in this moment without fear of
interruption.
They fall into a familiar pattern of kisses, until Alexander starts to shift
restlessly under Aaron, pulling at his shirt, “Take this off.” 
Aaron complies willingly, and reaches for Alexander’s too, helping him lift it
over his head. The feeling of skin on skin makes Aaron gasp into Alexander’s
mouth. He wants to be closer still and when Alexander reaches for the waistband
of his pants and asks, “Can I?” Aaron wastes no time in pulling off his shorts
and his underpants.
Alexander rolls them, so that he’s straddling Aaron and admires the view. He
runs a hand over Aaron’s chest and down to his hip, stopping tauntingly right
there. Aaron feels like he’ll never be able to catch his breath again, like he
needs twice as much air as human lungs can hold. He runs his hands down
Alexander’s back, and tugs at Alexander’s shorts. Alexander smirks, complies,
and then settles back over Aaron.
He seems to plan on teasing Aaron more, but Aaron can’t stand it, and flips
them again, pressing himself all along Alexander, finally completely together.
Alexander opens his mouth to say something teasing, but Aaron grinds a thigh
into Alexander’s cock and Alexander groans instead, hands clutching Aaron’s
arms, as Aaron slides against him. 
Aaron is torn between wanting to kiss Alexander, to get as close as possible in
every way, and wanting to watch Alexander’s face. Alexander is so expressive,
and the more turned on he becomes the less control he seems to have over what
he shows. “What do you want?” Aaron asks, turning the choice over to
Alexander. 
Alexander leans up for a kiss and then falls back to the pillow panting, “Can
I- Your hand- Can-”
Aaron stops the stumbling by reaching down and grasping Alexander’s dick. He
strokes experimentally, trying to find the speed and pressure that Alexander
likes. Alexander reaches down and wraps his hand around Aaron’s, demonstrating
for a few strokes, before his hand falls away.
He’s already close, and Aaron’s never seen anything quite as hot as the way
Alexander is moving under Aaron, his expression turned inward, and his breath
coming in short gasps, until finally with a choked moan he comes, arching up
into Aaron in a way that makes Aaron feel desperate and heated. Aaron leans
down and kisses Alexander through the aftershocks, and Alexander’s
uncoordinated, jerky attempts to kiss back only push Aaron closer to the edge,
until he’s thrusting into Alexander’s hip. Alexander’s hands are on Aaron’s
back, and lips on Aaron’s neck, urging him on. Aaron buries his face in
Alexander’s shoulder and comes with a muffled groan.
He stays there, blanketing Alexander, until the world stops spinning, and he
realizes there isn’t a lot of oxygen in his current position. He turns so he’s
able to breathe, but remains pressed into Alexander’s side. There isn’t a lot
of room on the bed, but Aaron feels no immediate inclination to move and
Alexander also seems content, so they just lay together, lazy in the afternoon
heat.
#
And with that, the shape of the rest of Aaron’s summer takes place. More often
than not he meets Alexander at his house after Alexander finishes his shift. It
turns out that Alexander works at a local bakery, and spends his mornings
turning out fresh bread and pastries that go the local hotels and markets.
Aaron isn’t really sure how Alexander does it, he seems to subsist on no sleep
at all, but suggestions that he take a nap are met with frowns and distractions
so Aaron gives up.
During these afternoons they learn each other in a way that Aaron has never
known another person.
They learn each other physically, and Aaron starts to run out of firsts to
experience. He feels like he knows Alexander’s body better than his own at this
point. He knows all the spots that drive Alexander wild and he knows all the
touches that soothe Alexander to sleep afterward. They start to develop a
complete language of kisses. Kisses that say anything from, “hello,” to
“harder.”
But they also learn each other mentally, emotionally. Aaron gradually learns
Alexander’s life story, his wishes, his dreams, and his insecurities. Despite
the intelligence that continues to astound Aaron, Alexander worries that he’ll
never make it off the island, that he’ll be one of the many people here who
spend their adult lives trying to make tourists happy. Aaron tells him again
and again that it will never happen, that Alexander can’t be so bright, so
talented, so handsome for nothing. Alexander blushes, but seems to find it some
comfort, “Well if you say so it must be so,” he inevitably says, sarcasm but
not, before changing the topic.
Aaron even meets Alexander’s mother. She’s very like Alexander in many ways,
clearly sharing more than just a last name. She’s beautiful for a start, she
looks startlingly young to have a son Alexander’s age. Like Alexander she has
long dark hair, and large dark eyes. Her smile is sweet, in the way that
Alexander’s can be, although unlike his mother, Alexander saves this sweetness
for private moments.
Unlike Alexander, she’s quiet, speaking only as much as needed in her thickly
accented voice. Around her, Alexander’s accent is thick too. The first time
Aaron hears it he realizes with some shock that the accent Alexander uses with
the tourists - with Aaron, is a carefully practiced thing, designed to reflect
their own sounds back at them and signal as much as possible, ‘I’m one of you.’
It’s another one of Alexander’s masks, and Aaron forces the shock away, holding
instead to the knowledge that Alexander has let him see behind it.
Alexander hasn’t told his mother that he’s anything other than friends with
Aaron, and she never suggests otherwise, but Aaron wonders sometimes if she
knows anyway. She watches Aaron with a quiet intelligence, and he can see the
love in her face when she looks at Alexander, and Aaron’s not sure that she
can’t see the same when he looks at her son.  
And Aaron does love Alexander. Aaron’s never been in love before, and he used
to wonder how people could know, how people seemed so sure, but he doesn’t
wonder anymore. Alexander shines so brightly, his quick mind, his smiles both
soft and sharp, his humor, all of these have become central to Aaron’s life.
Being around him makes Aaron’s heart ache with happiness and longing, but Aaron
doesn’t bring it up. There’s no point, because in two weeks Aaron’s going back
to the U.S. and Alexander is stuck here, on this island, where even a phone
call is an impossible expense.
Aaron knows with a bone deep certainty that at some point Alexander will break
free of this place, but that’s no guarantee that it will be near Aaron. The
world is big place, full of openings for someone as talented as Alexander.
Beyond that, Aaron would only hold Alexander back. A secret summer fling with a
man is one thing, a long term anything is just waiting to be discovered, to
ruin Alexander’s career before it even starts. Maybe someday people won’t care,
but Aaron can’t quite imagine it.
Alexander doesn’t say anything of feelings either, and it could simply mean
that he hasn’t fallen in love, but sometimes Aaron catches Alexander watching
him in a way that makes Aaron wonder. There’s also the fact that Alexander is
spending every free moment with Aaron, when at the beginning of the summer he
had shared his affections quite equally and widely. And he introduced Aaron to
his mother, showed Aaron his home, even let Aaron read select portions of some
of the notebooks, which it turns out are filled writing of all sorts, some
personal, some academic. Love or not, Aaron believes Alexander cares for him,
but it still doesn’t matter in the face of reality.
#
The last ten days of the trip are bittersweet. Sweet because they spend most of
their time together, and bitter because the shadow of their impending
separation grows darker every day. Every kiss, conversation, and shared laugh
seems to bring them closer to the end, as if they only have a limited number of
each. Without discussing it, they pretend that there is no deadline, trying to
act as casually as they did at the beginning of the summer. It’s a pretense
that has limited success, the shadow of goodbye casting a chill on the warmth
of their time together.
On the third to last day the pretense abruptly falls away. They’re in
Alexander’s bed, wrapped around each other in the lingering glow of orgasm.
Eventually, Aaron starts to move away.
“No,” Alexander says, and pulls Aaron in tighter.
Aaron pauses, puzzled, but wraps his arms back around Alexander whose face is
hidden in Aaron’s chest, “Okay.”
Alexander doesn’t respond, but, attention now focused on him, Aaron slowly
realizes that Alexander’s breath is uneven, not because of the recent orgasm,
but because he’s trying not to cry. Aaron helplessly holds Alexander tighter,
rubbing a hand up and down his back. 
The acknowledgement, or perhaps just the embarrassment of getting caught, only
seems to make it worse for Alexander, and Aaron feels a hot tear or two hit his
chest. Aaron’s throat feels tight with his own regret. “I’m sorry,” he says
softly, “I wish it wasn’t like this.”
Eventually Alexander’s breath evens out, and he emerges, not looking at Aaron
as he uses his t-shirt to wipe the tears from his face. His eyes are still too
bright when he finally does look at Aaron, “I’m going to miss you.”
It’s the first direct acknowledgement either of them has made to their parting
since two weeks ago, when Aaron got the final schedule from his mother, and it
tears at Aaron’s heart. He reaches up and with his thumb gently swipes away
some of the wetness that lingers under Alexander’s eye, “I’m going to miss you
too.” 
Alexander nods slightly, trying to smile for Aaron. That weak, quavery little
smile, that attempt to comfort Aaron, even in the midst of his own upset is too
much for Aaron. The thing he’s been trying to hold in for the last couple of
weeks tumbles out, “I love you.”
Alexander’s breath catches, and another tear threatens to drop, but he doesn’t
look away from Aaron, “I love you too.” It’s only a whisper, as if he doesn’t
trust his voice, but this time his smile is genuine, the sweet smile that Aaron
only gets to see when they’re alone. 
Aaron smiles back, and the moment hangs between them, as if the world has
stopped for a moment and nothing can touch them, but in the end none of their
confessions can do anything to slow the passage of time. 
Two days later, they make their final goodbyes. Aaron is leaving early the next
morning and neither of them want their last goodbye to be in front his parents,
so instead they do it here, in the sanctuary of Alexander’s small bedroom.
Aaron gives Alexander all the books he’s brought that Alexander doesn’t already
have, and assures Alexander again that he’s going to be a success. That he’ll
go far from this island and, “I’ll hear about you someday and I’ll say, I knew
him when.”
Alexander doesn’t argue like he normally would, just says, “I’m glad I met
you.”
And then with one final, lingering kiss, and then an even more lingering hug,
that’s it. Aaron doesn’t look back, because if he does he might turn back and
never turn around. 
His parents seem ready to get back into the thick of their lives. In the
morning when they leave Aaron’s mother sighs, “It was nice, but I miss being in
the loop” and his father agrees. Aaron doesn’t say anything.
#
Being back at school is a good distraction for Aaron, and it is good to see his
friends again. He misses Alexander fiercely at first, and then what Aaron has
to suppose is a regular amount after that. He expects he’ll stop missing
Alexander all together at some point, but can’t quite picture it yet, a small
ache still following him everywhere. Straight through graduation Aaron finds
himself wishing he could tell Alexander the new things he’s learned, imagining
the debates they might have, and missing Alexander’s kisses.
Aaron had wanted to exchange addresses, to exchange letters, but Alexander had
said no. He said he couldn’t stand to see the letters dwindle away, and Aaron
agreed, even though now, after nearly a year, Aaron still feels like he could
fill letter after letter. Aaron hadn’t wanted to leave Alexander without any
way of contacting him though, so in the end he’d written his address and phone
number in the books he’d left behind, with a note to write or call if Alexander
ever needed anything. Alexander could get himself off the island, Aaron was
sure, but there was no harm in Aaron offering whatever help he could. Alexander
must not need anything, because he never writes or phones.
#
Senior year has been a flurry of college applications for Aaron, and regrouping
for their next electoral campaign for his parents. It’s been stressful, and
Aaron’s mother insists on another family vacation this summer, before Aaron
goes off to college. “Shorter this time,” she insists with a smile. Aaron
agrees, not paying much attention to the planning of it, too distracted by
figuring out dorm choices at Princeton, and worrying about roommates.
He’s suddenly paying attention when his mother casually mentions that they’re
going back to the island, “That’s all right, isn’t it, Aaron? You seemed to
like it there.”
He nods, mouth dry. A chance to see Alexander? Even if Alexander has moved on,
they could still have a good conversation, couldn’t they? And if Alexander
wanted more, well Aaron would never say no to getting to hold him one more
time.
The small ache that’s settled in Aaron’s heart ever since the end of the summer
suddenly makes itself fully known, and Aaron has to admit to himself, if never
anyone else, that he’s missed Alexander this whole time. That despite the
distance and the time, despite his attempts to focus on school, on college, on
his friends, he still loves Alexander.
Aaron tries to remind himself that it’s been a year, that Alexander has no
doubt moved on, and they are both different people now. He loves the memory of
who Alexander was, and Alexander loved the Aaron of a year ago, and it’s best
not to assume that will carry forward. 
Aaron tells himself many such reasonable things, but he can’t help the
excitement he feels thrumming under his skin as they arrive at the island.
They’re only here for a week and a half, the most his parents felt they could
eke out of their schedule. They get in late the first night, but Aaron pushes
off the exhaustion of travel and takes a flashlight to walk down to the shack.
Maybe Alexander will be there.
Aaron can see long before he gets there that no one is at the shack tonight, no
fire lighting up the night, no music carrying on the breeze. Even so he walks
the rest of the way, out of nostalgia perhaps. But when he gets there, the
shack is gone. Or rather, it’s not gone, it’s there, but time has finally worn
it down and it’s collapsed on the ground. It’s clearly been down for some time,
drifts of sand covering some of the boards.
It’s ridiculous, but somehow it looks frightening in the dark, lit only by
Aaron’s flashlight. A shiver runs up Aaron’s spine, and turns his stomach, and
he quickly turns back to the house. Once away from the dark shape of it, Aaron
scoffs at himself, laughing quietly at how he’s allowed his overtired mind to
get the better of him.
# 
Aaron sleeps in the next day, partially because if Alexander is still working
at the bakery there’s no point in showing up early, and partially still tired
from the trip.
His lunch sits poorly in his stomach on the walk to Alexander’s house, nerves
and anticipation fighting with one another. It is a bit strange to just show up
at someone’s house unannounced after so long, but Aaron hardly has any other
choice, no way of letting Alexander know in advance. Maybe Alexander won’t be
pleased to see him, but to Aaron the chance is well worth that risk. 
Aaron is more nervous than ever when he knocks at the familiar door, but he
forces his chin up, and doesn’t hide behind his sunglasses. However, he quickly
becomes confused when an older woman he doesn’t recognize answers his knock.
She seems just as confused as he is, but he presses on, “Um, hello.”
“Hello,” she answers, and her accent is thick and unlike the typical island
accent. He can’t quite place it.
He smiles, hoping to smooth over the confusion, “Uh, I’m sorry to bother you,
I’m looking for Alexander Faucette?”
She shakes her head, looking confused and he tries again, “Uh, his mother,
Rachel Faucette?”
No response, “They lived here last summer?”
Suddenly she looks like maybe she understands something, she gestures for him
to wait and then leans into the house to talk to someone else in whatever
language accents her English. For a second, Aaron thinks it must be Alexander,
but then a man, also older, comes to the door. He shares the woman’s accent,
but clearly speaks more English, “You look for mother and son?”
“Yes,” Aaron says, feeling like he’s reached some firmer ground, “They used to
live here.”
The woman says something to the man, who nods, and then says, “Very sad.”
That firmer ground has dropped away, “Sad, I don’t-”
The woman is saying something further to the man, she’s looking at Aaron with
something like pity. The man holds up a hand to halt the flow of her words,
“Yes, sad. They both get the fever, and” here he makes a gesture that Aaron
can’t interpret, “No money for medicine.” He shakes his head, “Such a shame.”
Aaron feels blank, “But-”
The woman reaches past the man to pat Aaron’s shoulder, and says haltingly,
“Sorry. Nice boy, nice mother.”
Aaron can’t quite catch his breath, but he has to confirm, “You’re saying they
both died?”
The man looks sympathetic, but nods. “Is pity. Too young, but no money.”
Aaron feels blank, “I see. Thank you for telling me.”
Aaron arrives back in his room without quite knowing how. He’s sitting on the
edge of his bed, trying to understand. Alexander is dead. Alexander, the most
alive person Aaron knows, is dead. And how long? Aaron realizes that the couple
never said when. How long has Alexander been dead and Aaron living his life
without knowing it? How long while Aaron worried about nonsense, got the chance
to go to Princeton? Everything lurches around Aaron, and he just makes it to
the toilet when his lunch comes rushing back up.
When his stomach settles, Aaron goes back to bed. Safely under the covers he
stares at nothing, unable to cry, unable to sleep, unable to stop shaking. His
mind turns in circles going over every memory of their short time together, the
conversations they had, and the kisses they shared. The expression on
Alexander’s face when he told Aaron he loved him.
Those thoughts leave Aaron aching, but worse yet his mind also turns to trying
to imagine Alexander’s last moments. “The fever,” the man had said. That could
mean anything. And Alexander’s mother too? Did she die first? Did Alexander
know she had died? Did he know he was dying? Was he in pain?
“No money for medicine,” the man had said. Does that mean if Aaron had been
here, he could have saved them? Could have used some of the money that has made
his life easy, the money that he hardly thinks about, to have prevented this
unthinkable thing? If the world was fair, Alexander and his mother would be
fine and this stupid house would have one less set of expensive dishes.
Worst of all, are the thoughts of what Alexander would have been. All that
intelligence, all that drive, all that charisma lost. Aaron imagines Alexander
attending college, writing books of his own, charming people left and right.
All the things he would never get to do, all the things that he should have
been able to do. The world was going to miss out on so many ideas without
Alexander.
Aaron’s mother comes in around dinner time, worried, and he claims an upset
stomach. It’s no lie, he can’t imagine eating right now. She tuts over him and
brings him a cup of broth, and a sleeve of crackers of which he manages to
swallow one and a half.
Night falls and still he can’t escape the thoughts in his head, staring dry-
eyed at the ceiling, stomach roiling, until around four when he starts to
wonder what happened to Alexander’s book collection. All those carefully
scrounged books, the books Aaron had given him, and the notebooks filled with
promise. The idea that someone probably threw them all in the trash is what
breaks through Aaron’s shock. He smothers his sobs with a pillow, not wanting
to answer any questions.
#
For the rest of the trip, Aaron pretends to be sick, and spends most of his
time in bed, and then eventually carefully acclimating to the world outside of
his bedroom. He barely leaves the house, not feeling strong enough to go to any
of the places he spent time with Alexander. 
Slowly Aaron re-creates himself into someone that can live in this new, emptier
world. A new Aaron, with his naive, innocent assumptions about the world burned
away in the fire of his grief.
Alexander was always afraid that he’d never get off the island, that he’d never
have the chance to show the world what he could do, and old Aaron had been sure
that was wrong. Aaron with his comfortable life, had been sure that all of
Alexander’s gifts were enough to lead to success. And now Aaron realizes how
easy an assumption that was for him, with his adequate health care, wealthy
parents, and nearly endless options. It wasn’t always easy being black in
America, but Aaron himself had never run across any true barriers, and his
family had been moving up and up in society for all of Aaron’s life. Somehow,
despite the lessons his parents had tried to impart, Aaron had started to think
that having the will and talent mattered more than the structure of society.
That anyone could just pull themselves up. That was what Alexander had never
lost sight of. He’d known that sometimes it doesn’t matter how smart you are,
how hard you work, or how golden your words. If you can’t get the education you
need to expand your mind, if you end up pregnant without recourse, if you die
of preventable illness, none of that matters.
Aaron had thought Alexander was the smartest person he had ever met, but now
Aaron starts to wonder how many other Alexander’s there are, their brilliance
lost without access to the resources they need to shine, or dead before their
time.
All of Aaron’s plans rearrange themselves. The relaxed fun he’d planned to have
his first year of college, the literature degree he’d imagined earning.Those
things are gone. Aaron can see now that it’s his duty, his responsibility to
try to take the ease of his own life, and use it to try to make the world a
place where everyone has a chance. To follow the example of his parents. For
Alexander’s memory, and for all the people out there who still have brilliance
to share, Aaron must apply himself to this task.
#
In the week before he leaves for Princeton, Aaron sits down with his parents
and explains that he’s considering entering politics as well. His father looks
proud at the idea of his son following in his footsteps. Both his parents offer
advice drawn from their collective experience. In particular, his mother helps
Aaron form a plan, “Just to get started,” she says while charting out his next
twenty years or so. Aaron doesn’t laugh, just asks questions and rethinks his
course schedule for the coming semester.
After they’ve worked out a rough plan, she sets down her pen. Aaron’s looking
at the branching possibilities for 2004, and doesn’t notice her weighing stare,
until she reaches out and tilts his face toward her, fingers cool against his
jaw, “Are you okay, honey?”
He nods, eyes darting away and then back, “I’m fine, I just… I just want to do
what good I can.”
She bites her lip, assessing, but finally chooses to take him at his word,
“Okay. I hope you know I’m proud of you.”
He smiles, trying not to think of another mother who would have been proud of
her son.
***** Chapter 2 *****
College is difficult at first. It’s a good thing Aaron had his strategy session
with his mother, because a large part of Aaron wants to hide away from a world
newly revealed to be cruel, but Aaron’s mother had been clear - one of the most
important parts of college is making connections that will last a whole
lifetime.
So Aaron resists the urge to focus only on academics, to finish undergrad
early, and go straight to law school. Instead, he joins clubs, he joins a
fraternity, he gets involved with student government, he talks to everyone and
makes remembering names and personal details his special skill. He flirts back
when women flirt with him, but never takes it further, and by the end of his
freshman year he’s earned a reputation for choosiness. Some of his frat
brothers try to make a game of finding him a woman that will break past his
barrier, but he’s so good naturedly appreciative of all of them that eventually
the game loses its savor. 
The handful of times guys hit on him, Aaron pretends not to notice if it’s
subtle, or if they are direct, he simply apologizes and says he’s straight. He
ends these rejections with a firm heterosexual clasp on the shoulder, showing
there are no bad feelings. He must be convincing, because no one seems to
suspect the lie, and eventually it rolls off his tongue like the truth. It’s
the truth for as long as he’s in politics anyway.
Fake it until you make it seems to be a solid strategy overall, because Aaron
becomes popular, someone that people remember and in time it becomes easier to
smile, to have fun, and to connect to other people sincerely. Aaron doesn’t
forget Alexander, and he doesn’t forget his goals, but he focuses on the future
and not the past.
In Aaron’s junior year, his father’s second campaign for Governor takes off,
and Aaron is called upon to help. His mother says it will be good for the both
of them, good for Aaron to see a campaign and good for his father’s campaign to
have a bright young son like Aaron to showcase.
It’s a whirlwind. Balancing campaign events, campus events, school, his own
campus political career, and preparing for law school makes the end of junior
year and the beginning of senior year the busiest time of Aaron’s life so far.
His mother watches with satisfaction as he somehow manages to keep everything
afloat, “If you can do this, maybe you do have a future in politics.”
As exhausted as Aaron is, he’s happy to make her proud, and even more it’s all
worth it when his father wins, and has the chance to do good work here, in
their home state.
Aaron turns to his law school applications, to leaving the student government
with actionable plans, and finally to dating again. He meets Karla through
student government, when she comes to petition for funding for an event. Her
event is centered on women’s rights, and she seems completely ready to fight
with everyone, and equally surprised when Aaron supports the event
wholeheartedly.
Her embrace of women’s rights extends to a woman’s right to ask a man out, and
afterward, when she asks him to dinner, Aaron surprises himself by accepting.
They have fun together for the rest of the year. It’s not serious, there’s no
discussion of staying together after graduation, but for Aaron it’s a welcome
move forward, to be able to spend time with someone and not think of the past.
Aaron has his pick of law schools, and choses Harvard. Law school is different
from undergrad in many ways, not the least of which is that now he’s a
governor’s son, although at least he’s out of state at Harvard. It’s also more
work, more pressure. Aaron rises to the occasion, managing to balance
networking and making connections with his coursework.
It’s at Harvard that Aaron meets Martina. Martina is a first year student along
with Aaron, and her ambition is clear. It calls to Aaron, as if before they’ve
even gotten to know each other he can tell that they want the same things for
the country, for their lives. She seems equally drawn to Aaron, and they share
many discussions into the dark of the night, fueled by cheap wine. These
conversations only make it more clear how well they are going to work together,
how lucky they are to have met here, at the beginning of their careers. What
makes them the perfect team is that Martina doesn’t want the spotlight, she
wants to work from behind the curtain, whereas Aaron has been smoothing his
public persona for the last four years in preparation for a life on the stage.
Aaron can almost already see the wins they are going to have together, the
change they are going to make in the world. In Martina’s wide smiles and
glowing eyes late at night, Aaron knows she can see it too.
Aaron’s mother loves Martina, another good sign. Her only regret is that Aaron
and Martina show no signs of dating. “It’s the most complete partnership,” she
sighs when Aaron says he just doesn’t see it happening. 
In her eyes Martina is a good wife, and a great political wife, lacking only
the connections of high society, and Aaron can never explain to his mother’s
satisfaction why it isn’t a possibility. “There’s no spark,” he says instead. 
“Yet,” she says in the knowing way of mothers.
But it won’t happen for two reasons, neither of which he can explain to her.
The first and simplest is that Martina is a lesbian. She’s still with her
undergrad girlfriend, although Aaron can see the distance is pulling them
apart, and it’s only a matter of time before one of them acknowledges it.
The second is that Martina reminds him of Alexander. She burns with that same
brilliance, and that same determination to succeed. She’s the daughter of
immigrants, her parents speak thickly accented English and work long hours at
thankless jobs, and here she is at Harvard law. She doesn’t look like
Alexander, not really, dark hair and eyes, but no other real resemblance.  It’s
who she is inside that reminds him of Alexander and, even in his mother’s dream
universe where Martina would want to date him, he could never date her, because
it wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
Martina asks him about it once, after they’ve known each other for awhile,
close enough that he already knows her story. It’s one of their late nights,
alone in her apartment, most of the wine gone. She’s lit candles instead of
turning on the lights when it got dark, whether out of whimsy or worry for the
electric bill he doesn’t ask. In the flickering light, she’s passionately
deconstructing the lecture they had earlier in the day. Her gestures are made
expansive by the wine, and her eyes look darker than usual in the candlelight.
The lecture she’s discussing had improbably hinged on the interpretation of a
line from Shakespeare, one that Aaron had argued with Alexander about, and for
a moment Aaron feels himself slip back into that memory. He loses Martina for
just a second beneath the remembrance of Alexander’s smile when he got Aaron to
concede the point. Aaron closes his eyes against it. Against the old pain it
brings, and the way that the Alexander of memory is starting to look so young
to Aaron.
When he opens his eyes, Martina is watching him silently, rant ended for the
moment. She considers him and then says, “Sometimes when you look at me, I can
tell you aren’t seeing me.”
He winces, “I’m sorry.”
She takes a sip of her wine, “Am I allowed to ask who? Or why?”
He considers what to say, busying himself by putting his empty wine glass
carefully on the table, but then finding himself at a loss for what to do with
his hands, “I...knew someone. When I was young. We came from very different
backgrounds. They were brilliant, and not just smart, but determined. I knew
they’d succeed at anything they wanted, even though the odds were stacked
against them. My life was pretty easy. I couldn’t see what could ever get in
the way.” 
He realizes he’s wrapped his arms around himself, and tries to relax. Martina
is waiting. “Like you,” he smiles weakly at her, “Smart, determined, fierce.
Like you.”
She smiles back, but it’s clear to both of them that’s not the end of the
story.
“I guess, sometimes when I see you I wonder what could have been. Because here
you are, but- they died. Died because they couldn’t afford healthcare.”
Her wary expression melts into sympathy, and she reaches out to squeeze his
hand.
He takes a long shaky breath, “So now you know my dark secret. I’m as selfish
as anyone. I only want to change things because they hurt me personally.” 
She shakes her head, “How old were you?”
“Eighteen.”
She squeezes his hand again, still watching him closely. He hopes the dark
hides him at least a little. “And you were in love with her, weren’t you?”
His breath stops, and he pulls back from her hand. The implicit lie, the “yes”
rests on his tongue, ready as always to slide out, but to Martina? To deny
Alexander here, the first time Aaron has talked about him since his death?
Aaron can feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he pushes past the lie and
manages to say in a croak, “Him.”
Her eyes widen, “Oh.” Her quick mind is already sorting through the
implications, through his ongoing flirtation with Vicki from ConLaw for
instance, “But you-”
He pushes through that, “I’m bisexual.”
She relaxes a bit, “Oh. I’m sorry...about your friend.” Another thought seems
to occur to her, “Did he- were you-” She gestures back and forth as if that
explains it.
He laughs, “We were.”
She leans back into the couch, “Wow. Hidden depths.”
He tries to relax, still shaky with confession, “I’m sorry if- if I allow that
history to weigh on you.”
She shakes her head, “We all have stuff. I trust you remember who I am.”
“You would never let me forget.”
# 
They never talk about it again. He trusts her to keep it to herself, but even
just one person aside from Aaron knowing that Alexander lived, that Aaron loved
him, it’s a comfort in a way that Aaron never expected it to be.
Martina and Aaron graduate law school top of their class, and begin careers in
law, focused primarily on civil rights cases, on trying to make sure that
people are receiving their full share of society's resources.
After four years Aaron’s father runs for re-election, and wins handily, but not
long after that Aaron’s parents set their eyes on the final goal - a run at the
Presidency.
The primary is heady. Aaron is connecting with the sorts of people that could
make or break a career in politics, and he’s brought Martina along for the
ride. She’s learning the ins and outs of running a campaign from all the
smartest people, including Aaron’s mother, who still seems wistful that Martina
didn’t become the love of Aaron’s life. Together Aaron and Martina are setting
a foundation for their future.
And the campaign is going well.Aaron’s father is connecting with people, his
message seems to be perfectly aligned with what voters are worried about right
now, and he races to an early lead and doesn’t show any sign of relinquishing
it, even in the face of very well qualified candidates, including the current
vice president.  
They’re days away from locking up the nomination, with polls giving every
indication that they will. In fact, after super Tuesday, the campaign has
started to turn towards the general election, sizing up the likely Republican
opponent. Martina and Aaron are at the New Jersey headquarters working on new
strategies, while his parents are about to make a final stop in Florida before
their primary. 
Later Aaron will be grateful in a way that he was at headquarters, that he was
one of the first people to know. That unlike Alexander, there wasn’t that
nebulous time when Aaron was living his life unaware, confident in a future
that was already over.
At first it’s not certain, all they know is that the small plane that carried
his parents and their top aides had disappeared. The schedule had been so
tight, it had made sense to charter a small plane to get from one stop to the
next, but now Aaron’s parents and everyone else on that plane are missing.
Aside from his parents, some of the missing are people that Aaron has known his
whole life. It only takes a few hours to confirm what they’d all dreaded from
the first notification - no survivors. 
In the interim, between the suspicion and the fact, those still at headquarters
had rearranged themselves around the gaps in their hierarchy, and there’s
someone already writing a press release. Once the confirmation arrives, the
staff assures Aaron that he doesn’t have to do anything more, that they’ll take
care of the tattered remains of the campaign for now. Anyway, it’s now up to
the party to figure out what to do with all the votes already cast, with the
primary voting tomorrow, with any of the larger fall out. Aaron lets Martina
drive him back to his apartment.
He’s losing time, one minute he’s solemnly thanking the campaign staff for all
they’ve done, trying not to flinch at the tears he sees around the room, and
the next Martina is guiding him through his own front door. Really guiding him,
a hand holding onto his upper arm as if she’s not sure he’ll move without it.
He comes back to himself with a snap, regretting the worry he sees on her face.
“I’ve got it,” he says, gently pulling his arm free, and taking off his coat,
hanging it up with a careful show of competence. 
She watches as he lowers himself slowly into the corner of the couch, aching
like an old man when this morning he’d felt energized and ready for months more
campaigning, for a career of this. She hovers indecisively, and then sits
across from him, “Can I do something? Food? Do you-”
He raises a hand, a grimace crossing his face at the very thought, “No, not
now.” He’s trying to think, “Just- Just nothing for now.”
She nods, and sits still, but watchful.
He’s not quite sure what to do, how to feel. Of course children lose their
parents. He’s lucky in a way. He’s a full grown adult, they got him all the way
here, through his education, the start of his career. But he’d thought they had
so much more time. His parents were on the edge of their greatest professional
success, planning for years more to come. He hadn’t been ready. Their loss had
been an abstract idea, far in the future, and now it was concrete, it was here.
He feels cold, starting to regret that he took off his coat, and almost
absently he notices that his hands are shaking, that he’s shivering. Martina
stands and as he dispassionately watches, she turns up the heat. She takes the
ugly afghan that her mother had gifted Aaron, that he always displays proudly
in the living room, and drapes it over him. Then she sits next to him and pulls
him into a hug.
He doesn’t say anything, just leans against her, absorbing her warmth, and the
strength of her protection for this moment. 
They sit for a long time, the sun long gone. Aaron has stopped shivering, and
the heater has left the apartment uncomfortably warm when he finally pulls
back. He suspects Martina had been dozing in the heat, but the minute Aaron
starts to move she snaps to attention and she meets his eyes when he turns on a
lamp.
She looks exhausted, and he’s sure he looks worse, but when he says firmly,
“We’re going to use this. It won’t be a waste” she nods a sharp acceptance that
tells him she’d already thought of it. That they’re on the same page even now.
And so they do. They use this tragedy with the only too willing collaboration
of the media, who seem to be trying to make some sort of Kennedy child of
Aaron. It’s hardly the same, Aaron is a grown adult, but he plays their game.
The funeral is a dramatic thing, only too easily photographed, and full of
important leaders in politics from both sides of the aisle. Now that the man
who might have been the first African American president is safely dead, even
the Republicans are willing to pay lip service to his greatness. 
His mother gets her due, Aaron makes sure of that. He also makes sure to attend
the funerals of all the other people who died in the crash. This he does
quietly, keeping the spectacle away from those didn’t ask for it. 
The end result of all this theater of grief is a marked rise in Aaron’s public
profile even as the Democrats lose the White House. America knows his name,
they know his face, and he and Martina quickly turn that into winning campaign
for state senate. They’d debated going for a national position right away, it
would have to be the House due to Aaron’s age, but in the end Aaron sticks to
the plan set out by his mother. He still has the handwritten notes from that
first meeting, and it feels somehow like honoring her to use the strategy she
planned for him. Besides, there’s a lot of good to be done on the state level.
He’ll meet plenty of people and learn the process of legislative negotiating
right here in his home state, following in his father’s footsteps in the way
that had made his father proud.
#
It’s during that first campaign, still reeling from the loss of his parents,
that he meets Theodosia. He’s smitten almost instantly, she’s obviously smart,
and she’s hilarious, although with a much gentler form of humor than most
people in politics. She’s older than him, but he’s about to turn thirty, and a
few years is starting to seem irrelevant. She’s wonderful in nearly every way,
but one - she’s married to the man Aaron is running against.
Martina is disgusted by the whole situation, “Really? You had to get all
twitterpated over Theodosia Prevost, perfect political wife?”
Aaron ignores her, helplessly watching Theodosia listen attentively to Jack
Prevost go over talking points for the debate he’s about to have with Aaron.
Martina sighs, “Look Aaron, point one, she’s never going to leave him for you,
no matter how often you laugh at her jokes. Point two, we have a debate in
literally half an hour, so maybe we could focus?”
He makes an expression that he hopes is suitably chastened and focuses for the
rest of the night, resulting in a pretty good performance. Martina has some
notes for improvement, but they both know it’s almost certainly irrelevant,
here in his home district where he’s the beloved, tragic son of their hometown
heros.
Martina is probably right about his debate mistakes, and is definitely right
about his chances of winning, but Martina is wrong about Theodosia, because
after the election, when her husband has conceded, Theodosia does contact
Aaron.
At first it’s innocent enough. They talk. There’s no harm in two adults talking
to each other (“You tell yourself that, Aaron”, Martina says). And their
conversations are wonderful, even when they disagree. Which they do. Theodosia
has been married to a Republican politician for the last ten years, and she
didn’t always disagree with him either. But she and Aaron come to these
disagreements with open minds, and the debates can last for hours, the coffee
in their cups going cold as they challenge each other and push until a mind is
changed or the lines in the sand are drawn. So they talk and if it only makes
Aaron want her more, it’s still technically innocent.  
Their relationship doesn’t stay innocent though. One day, Theodosia shows up at
Aaron’s door with a folder, containing a copy of the divorce papers she’s just
filed. When Aaron’s read enough to understand what they are, what she’s saying,
he looks up at her, his happiness written on his face. She smiles and pushes
him against the wall next to his door for their first kiss. It’s even more
electrifying than any of his fantasies about this moment, and he reaches up to
cup her face, to feel her hair, completely forgetting about the papers in his
hands, which scatter on the floor around them, unheeded.
After the divorce proceedings are officially on the books, Martina warms to
Theodosia, and it’s obvious that the two of them are going to be an unbeatable
strategic team, getting Aaron where he wants to go in half the time it would
take for him to figure it out on his own.
As the legal steps of the divorce slowly unfold,Theodosia and Aaron debate
between themselves about how long after the official divorce they need to wait
before they can get married. The media won’t fail to notice something like
that, and Aaron’s lingering national profile raises the possibility that a
scandalously quick marriage to the ex-wife of the man whose Senate seat Aaron
just took won’t stay local news. Aaron is pushing for marrying right way,
insisting that it will be a scandal no matter what, while Theodosia says they
should give it six months at least, a veneer of propriety. 
It’s a topic they return to again and again as the divorce wends it way through
the courts, a form of pillow talk more than anything after a bit. One night
they’re in bed together idly debating it while Aaron works up the energy to get
up and go back to his apartment (Theodosia doesn’t think overnights are a very
good plan until the divorce is final, too undeniable if they get caught). She
makes her case for the wait again, and Aaron just shakes his head, “I love you,
there’s no point in wasting time.” It’s an argument he’s presented in the past,
and really, the whole discussion feels rote at this point. 
“You’re so young, none of the patience that comes with age,” It’s a running
joke between them, the age gap. She plays it up like she’s an old woman, and he
takes the role of wide-eyed youth, so it’s in this character that she says, “If
a youngling like you had loved before, perhaps you would know that there is no
rush.”
She’s teasing of course, but the premise of the joke is so different from his
experience that he can’t really appreciate it. He tries to smile, but it
doesn’t quite develop, and her own smile falters. He tries to distract her from
his failure of humor, “Tell me of all your loves then.”
She laughs, “Oh well, so many you understand.”
“Of course.” 
“Well let’s see, there was Todd of course. My first kiss.”
“Todd?” he asks in faux disgust.  
She laughs again, “I know, what a terrible name for anyone, much less one’s
first kiss. But I must confess, I didn’t really love him.” She hums
thoughtfully, “Let’s see, then there was Jason, my high school boyfriend. I
thought I loved him passionately, but later perspective leads me to admit that
it was puppy love. Then my first college boyfriend, Tyler. Same story.”
He leans back to look at her so that she can get the full effect of his
cuttingly raised brow, “I’m sorry, was this an eighties teen movie, why do they
all sounds like bit characters from a John Hughes movie?”
“Well it was the eighties, darling.”
He settles back down, conceding the point.
Her voice turns serious, “Then there was my second college boyfriend, Noah. Him
I really did love, but we just weren’t a good fit. He wanted a trophy more than
he wanted a wife, and I couldn’t be any less than I am.”
“Never,” he agrees.
“I’m glad you see. Then Jack, then you.” Here she leans over to place a
glancing kiss on Aaron’s cheek. She tries to regain the teasing tone, “So, as
you can see, I’m very experienced in love. You should probably leave me in
charge of all wedding planning.”
“Disagree.”
She tries to fake a sigh, which is ruined by a laugh. “All right, wow me with
your romantic triumphs. Let’s see the evidence, good sir.” 
Ah, he hadn’t really thought this one through.
He must pause for a second too long, because she props herself up on one arm to
look down at him, “Aaron? I suppose you aren’t reallythat young, tell me about
the people you loved.” He must look strange, because her expression is
trepidatious.
He reaches over to caress her shoulder soothingly, “Well, you. You know that
one.”
She smiles softly.
He looks away, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth, nervously. She’s a
good woman. He knows she supports gay rights, but how different a thing it is
to plan to marry someone who isn’t straight. But then, how can he marry her if
he’s not sure? 
He looks back at her, and smooths out his face, “Just one person before you.”
She nods slightly, “Okay. You’re starting to scare me, are you still married?
Do you keep her in your attic?”
A breath that should be a laugh escapes him, “No. No. It was a long time ago,
before college even. No attics.”
She looks more relaxed, “Okay, then. You were just a kid, but not puppy love?”
He rubs her shoulder one more time before dropping his hand, somehow not sure
he should touch her when he does this, “No, it was as real as it could be in
the time we had.” He forces himself to hold her gaze, “His name was
Alexander.” 
She stills, “And did he love you?”
“He did.”
She reaches over and brushes a finger between his eyebrows, gently smoothing
out the wrinkle that must have formed there, “It’s okay, Aaron. I love you. I
love all of you.”
He leans up to kiss her, relieved. She kisses him back, soft, comforting, and,
yes, loving.
When the kiss ends she brushes once more over the spot between his eyebrows,
seemingly satisfied. Then she asks, “You said you were only together a short
time, why was that?”
He takes a deep breath, “Two reasons. Uh, the first was that…. well speaking of
teen movies, it was a little bit of a Grease situation. We met when I was on a
family vacation one summer.” 
She laughs.
“We had that summer, and no chance of a Grease style reunion because he was a
townie, no money to speak of, and not a U.S. citizen. So at the end of the
summer we knew that was it.”
“You said two reasons though,” she prods when he doesn’t immediately continue.
“He died,” Aaron says in as measured a tone as he can manage.
She gasps, but he ignores it, “My family actually did go back the next summer.
I don’t know- I’m not sure exactly what happened, and I don’t know when, but
some time during the year he and his mother both got sick. They didn’t have
access to the type of healthcare they should have, and that was it.”  
“God, Aaron. That must have been difficult.”
He doesn’t answer because what is there to say, and she doesn’t seem to expect
it, instead snuggling into his side in a silently comforting manner. 
They lay together in silence, until she says, “You’re right. Why waste time?”
“What?”
“The wedding. You win this round, don’t let it go to your head.”
And so, not two weeks after the divorce is finalized, they’re married. It does
get some national press, but Aaron gives a quote saying, “One thing I’ve
learned in life is not to waste the time we have” and given his role as a
figure of public tragedy, most of the sympathy seems to be on their side.
#
Whatever scandal it causes doesn’t affect his re-election to the state senate.
When he runs for the national senate in 2008 with Martina and Theodosia both on
his side they seem unstoppable. Maybe that’s why he’s so optimistic when
Theodosia is diagnosed with cancer only two months after he takes his new seat.
Or maybe it’s just because he doesn’t want to consider a world without her, but
consider it he must. Despite all the advantages of their combined wealth, the
excellent health insurance they have, despite how much he loves her, she’s gone
within three months. One of the last things she says to him before she slips
into the coma that eventually takes her is, “I’m glad we didn’t waste any of
our time.”
So here he is again, trying to move on without someone he loves. The night
Theodosia is buried Martina takes him home. He’s been on all day, accepting the
condolences of family, friends, and colleagues. Back straight, eyes focused in
the photos he knows are being taken. But now he’s back to the home he shared
with Theodosia, surrounded by all her carefully chosen furniture. He means to
go to the kitchen, to get a drink of water, maybe a drink of something harder,
but before he can make it out of the living room, his knees go out from
underneath him. Martina is there in a second, kneeling on the ground with him,
“Aaron?” 
And he’s crying. Here in this place where Theodosia is around every corner, he
can’t hide from her absence anymore. Martina wraps him in a fierce hug, and he
clings to her, she’s crying too, Theodosia was her friend after all. “Don’t
leave me,” he whispers, “Not you too”
She holds him tighter, “No. We’re going places together, I couldn't. I
wouldn’t.” It’s such a lie, because none of the people who have left Aaron
behind would have ever chosen it, but he tries to believe it anyway, because
what else can he do?   
Perhaps it should be easier this time, unlike with Alexander or his parents,
Aaron had warning, he knew what was coming. Loss doesn’t seem to be a thing
that Aaron gets better at though, no matter how much practice he gets.
But like his parents, Theodosia wanted him to succeed, so, with Martina by his
side, Aaron throws himself into his new job, gaining a reputation as one of the
more effective and passionate senators. His old nemesis the media helps, their
fascination with this new chapter in his American tragedy only raises his
profile, helping him accomplish his goals, and advance his causes.
It was in part his invention, but the tragic role in which they’ve cast him
settles uneasily on his shoulders, although, aside from the sheer tastelessness
of the thing, it’s hard for Aaron to pinpoint why. Is it because they have no
idea of where they should start their story, no idea that it should start with
a brilliant teen from the Caribbean? Is it because Aaron can’t think of himself
as tragic when every day he’s faced with stories so much worse than his, people
who have to get up and live their lives with much less support? Or is the sick
certainty that what the media wants more than anything is a satisfying
conclusion to the tragedy, and what would be more satisfyingly final than his
own tragic death?
Or maybe it’s just that as uneasy as the narrative makes Aaron, he uses it just
the same. When he comes up for re-election in a few years, he wins easily. 
#
After two good terms in the Senate (productive years for both of them
professionally, and personally for Martina who marries), Aaron and Martina have
been talking about the next step. Should they try to finish what his father
started? Is that where he can do the most good? Since Aaron’s been in the
Senate, there’s been a Democratic president and no need or room for him to run.
In the lead up to the 2016 race it seems unnecessary to run, and their plans
focused on 2024. He’ll be 52, a nice trustworthy age for a president. Of course
it will depend on the mood of the country, if there’s room for his message, but
it seems like the ideal time to consider.
And then the unexpected happens, and the Republicans take the White House in
2016, and 2020 becomes a real possibility. At the start of campaign season, the
Democrats have the advantage of the current President being wildly unpopular,
and Aaron throws his hat in the ring along with many others.
The primary is even more wild than he remembers his father’s presidential run
being, partially because it’s different from the center and not the sidelines,
and partially because the political landscape has just gotten weirder in
general in the twenty years since his father ran.
However, Aaron’s campaign starts off pretty well. Some people seem to think he
represents a political dynasty, and some people think that it’s only fitting
that he should take up where his father had left off. In light of how unpopular
the current administration is, Aaron’s steadfast resistance to their more
distasteful moves wins him some credit with the Democratic base, but for
others, even being in the Senate taints him by association. Regardless of these
varying ideas, his old friend the media and their ready built narrative are on
his side. It turns out that a triumphant ending would be almost as narratively
satisfying as a tragic one, so he gets a lot of phoenix rising from the ashes
coverage (as if he hasn’t had a successful and productive senate career, even
amidst the failure that is the current administration).
The field is broad, with a lot of people motivated to try to fix the current
disaster, but quickly winnows until it’s a fight between Aaron and Angelica
Schuyler. Angelica is from an old New York political family herself, but, by
moving out to California and forging her own career there, she’s somehow shed
the dynastic implications that follow Aaron. As a Governor, she’s been more or
less clear of the mess that is the federal government, and no state had pushed
back harder on the current administration than California. Too, there’s
something redemptive about the idea of nominating a woman after 2016’s
election. And most of all, Angelica is brilliant, experienced, and determined.
When Aaron finally has to concede, it’s with genuine confidence in her ability
to win this election and lead the country forward, and he works carefully on
his concession speech to make it clear how much he believes in her ability to
steer America back to a better path. 
#
Aaron does his bit for the party as they move into the general election season,
coordinating with the Schuyler campaign in various ways, rallies and interviews
mostly. During the latter he always gets asked if he’d be willing to be her
Vice President, and he always responds that he would, but he has no real
expectations in that direction. ‘Go with what you lack’ is the general rule for
picking a vice president, so no doubt whichever imminently qualified person she
picks will be white, male and perhaps from the midwest or the south.
So when she calls and asks him if he’s willing to be vetted, he’s surprised,
“I’m happy to be vetted, I’d be happy to serve, but I expected someone…”
“Whiter?”
He’s observed in their interactions over the campaign, that while perfectly
charming when she needs to be, and lovely to her staff, she’s also
quite...blunt with the people in her inner circle. Perhaps this is a sign of
serious consideration after all, “Well. Yes. Whiter.”
She sighs, “That’s the safe choice, but think about it, Aaron. The Republicans
have made people very unhappy. We have a chance to do something new, something
unprecedented. To be frank, my short list is you and two women, but the people
like you. It was a close primary and I think you can bring your voters along.”
“I would try to do that anyway. I am trying to do that.”  
“I know. And that’s why Ilike you. I think you and I can work together to get
some really great things done.”
And so Aaron undergoes the vetting. It’s nothing he’s not familiar with, having
run his own campaign. Martina had done due diligence and had all the requisite
oppo research done on him when they went national, and again for the
Presidential campaign. The vetting is very thorough, although like every set of
researchers who has ever vetted Aaron, they miss Alexander. Aaron doesn’t feel
the need to point out the omission, aside from himself the only living person
who knows about the relationship is Martina, and she doesn’t even know
Alexander’s name.
Aaron makes it through the vetting without notable issue. It’s still a bit of a
shock when Angelica actually makes the offer, but Aaron isn’t going to say no.
And then suddenly there’s an official announcement and he and Martina are back
on the campaign trail again, now alongside Angelica, her team, and her husband
John who somehow manages to be both bland and charming.
All Aaron and Martina’s discussions of where to go when his Senate term is up
are ended, and Martina is back in her element. Only Martina’s wife, Amy, seems
to have any regrets, losing her wife to the campaign trail again.
#
The campaign is going well, the Republican party is in shambles and the people
of the country are excited to hear a new message after the last four years of
negativity. It’s still a whirlwind of rallies, fundraisers and debates, but
it’s worth it for the plans Angelica has, for the good they’re going to do, and
the people Aaron’s getting to meet all across the country.
They’re about a month from the finish line, and Aaron’s flying in from Michigan
for a fundraiser in New York City, Angelica and John coming back from Florida.
It’s the type of fundraiser where the candidates are only half the draw, the
rest coming from celebrity guests. This particular fundraiser is targeting a
certain type of New York cultural elite, so not only is it black tie, but the
celebrities are the highbrow New York version, a broadway star, an indie
musician, a film director of niche coming of age films, and an author of
incisive history books and New Yorker pieces.
It’s not Aaron’s favorite type of event, he prefers meeting voters to
schmoozing with donors, but it’s an inevitable part of the job, and he’s good
at it. He’s not, however, particularly familiar with any of the celebrities on
offer, and he spends the the whole plane ride memorizing a dossier of
celebrities and wealthy donors, with the help of one of Martina’s handpicked
assistants. The assistant points out the donors Aaron’s met before, and makes
sure he knows why the famous people are famous. He thinks he’s just about ready
when the plane lands, which gives him the car ride to catch up on e-mail.
He gets to the hotel where the event is being held with barely enough time to
change into his tuxedo and paste a smile on his face for the crowd. The
campaign has two cameras filming, apparently gathering footage for a possible
new ad. There’s a wall of press on one side of the receiving line, most of it
focused on Angelica. The campaign cameras are on the other side, apparently
trying to capture the image of the flurry of press. The whole thing is a bit
claustrophobic, but Aaron’s been doing this his entire life and he keeps an
easy smile on his face, hitting all the right notes as he meets people. The
assistant hovers by the campaign cameras, unobtrusive, but ready to jump into
action if one of them should falter.
Aaron is following John, who is trailing after Angelica and the loudest wave of
camera shutters. John and Aaron have the timing down to an art, and the next
target is turning away from John just as Aaron is moving in to shake his hand.
 
It’s the author, Hamilton. He and John had apparently had a good laugh over
something, no doubt some charming witticism of John’s, he seems to have an
endless supply of them, but the laughter fades, Hamilton’s expression smoothing
into a polite smile as he turns to Aaron. Aaron greets him with a well-
practiced mix of respect and enthusiasm, “Mister Hamilton, it’s nice to meet
you!”
There’s something about this man’s face that’s throwing Aaron off his game.
Hamilton looks enough like the small headshot that had been in the dossier that
Aaron’s sure he has the right man, but something is off. Something... Aaron
can’t quite pin it down, so he keeps the polite smile  in place and reaches for
a handshake. But when their hands meet, the strangeness increases. There’s
something so familiar in that touch, and Aaron can’t quite catch his breath,
his mind buzzing a message that he doesn’t understand. Aaron’s smile fades as
he finds himself peering at this face, which is now swimming before him.
Aaron is sure he doesn’t know this man, that they’ve never met, but when Aaron
falters Hamilton breaks into a more genuine smile and says, “Aaron.” He says it
like he knows Aaron, like he’s said it before. 
Now, of course, it isn’t the first time in a long public career that someone
Aaron doesn’t know has been too familiar with him, people think because they’ve
read about Aaron online they know him. Aaron’s still holding the man’s hand,
the sound of his own name ringing in his ears. The sound of it is familiar in a
way he just can’t quite place, and the smile… Aaron knows that smile.
This- This is Alexander. Alexander who Aaron has thought dead for thirty years,
for most of his own life, for nearly twice what he thought Alexander lived.
Aaron couldn’t say why he’s sure, when it’s so impossible. But despite the
changes, weight where Alexander had always been on the edge of too thin,
wrinkles where the Alexander of memory is always tragically young, the facial
hair when Alexander had still been smooth faced, and the nice clothes, new and
sharply fitted where Alexander’s clothes had always been fraying at the cuffs,
the fit awkward - despite all that, it’s somehow him.
Aaron had years ago come to the painful realization that he couldn’t quite
remember Alexander’s face, not really. Unlike Theodosia or his parents, Aaron
never had a picture of Alexander, and the intervening years and decades have
smudged the memory of Alexander into sensations and impressions more than a
sharp picture. But somehow, despite, or perhaps because, of the fact that Aaron
could describe the quality of Alexander’s smile more than the shape of it,
Aaron is sure. Despite the absurdity of a dead man standing before him, Aaron
is somehow certain.
The certainty comes to Aaron in a flash. Alexander says his name and somehow it
becomes clear that something unimaginable is happening. After a pause just long
enough to make Alexander’s smile begin to falter in turn, Aaron responds in a
too low, choked voice, “Alexander?”
Alexander’s smile returns, stretching even wider at the acknowledgment, “It’s
been a long time.”
And Aaron, can’t think what else to do, but pull him in for a hug, too tight
maybe, but Alexander goes willingly. It’s somehow both completely different and
completely the same as thirty years ago. Alexander was shorter than Aaron then,
but now they’re the same height. He was thin and now he’s solid. He smells of
expensive soaps and cologne, but under it all is some familiar scent, still
Alexander through all that’s passed.
“Aaron,” says Alexander again, sounding puzzled as the hug stretches on too
long, Aaron lost in confusion and memory. 
In the end it’s only a couple of seconds before Aaron comes to his senses and
pulls out of the hug, aware of the cameras, aware of his responsibilities. He
smiles at Alexander, smooth and polite, thanks him for being there and pats him
on the shoulder, a sharp impersonal move. Aaron turns to the next supporter in
the line, who is already waiting, Aaron’s rhythm with John thrown off. Aaron
focuses on the next person, and the next, and does not look back at Alexander,
partially because Aaron can’t afford to lose focus, and partially because he’s
afraid Alexander will vanish, like Eurydice pulled back to the underworld. It’s
a fanciful thought, one that Aaron wouldn’t have given much attention to before
people starting coming back from the dead.  
For the rest of the event, Aaron focuses on each person his assistant directs
him to, as if they were the only person in the room. He doesn’t look for
Alexander and tries to keep his gaze from landing when he does glance in
Alexander’s direction, even though each sighting sends a thrill through his
chest - still alive, still here. Aaron thinks he does a pretty good job of
staying focused overall, but there’s a part of his mind that’s stuck trying to
figure out how Alexander is here, how it could be possible.
When Martina arrives at his shoulder to escort him out at the end of the event,
he takes one last look around the room, just to confirm again that he didn’t
imagine Alexander. But there he is, as indisputable as he ever was, and when
Alexander’s eyes meet Aaron’s it’s like time has melted away for that quick
half second before Aaron continues forward, one last round of handshakes to get
through.
#
Aaron and Martina are supposed to be getting a rare night at home in New
Jersey, but instead of leaving straight from the event as planned, Martina
leads him upstairs, “Angelica wants a word.” Aaron’s too busy trying to figure
out the mystery of Alexander’s resurrection to wonder why. 
Angelica’s campaign has commandeered one of the hotel’s suites. Its small
sitting room is filled with tired looking staffers, but Martina leads him
straight back to a bedroom, where it’s just Angelica, Martina, and Aaron. No
one seems inclined to talk and there’s an awkward pause until Tori, Angelica’s
Martina, comes in with an ipad, which she hands to Angelica, swiping to show
Angelica something on the screen.
Angelica looks up at Aaron, “Okay, Aaron.” She holds up the tablet, which is on
a picture of Aaron and Alexander caught in the handshake, looking at each other
probably a bit intensely. It looks like it’s a screencap from the footage the
campaign was taking, the press in the background. There are a few cameras
pointed at them of course, but the picture isn’t much, people get caught in
awkward moments that are nothing but the product of angles all the time. Aaron
is about to scoff, but she swipes through the next couple of images. They show
the hug, and the way Aaron’s hand is clutching Alexander’s jacket, something he
hadn’t even realized he was doing at the time. There’s no mistaking the
desperation of the gesture, and Aaron’s mouth goes dry.
Whatever shows on his face seems to be enough for Angelica for the moment. She
turns to Tori, “Anything on this?”
Tori is watching Aaron, “We got a couple of questions, but I don’t think it
will go anywhere. Luckily the press didn’t have the angle to see anything
much.” She takes back the tablet and taps over to something else, “Our issue is
that there’s nothing on either Senator Burr’s background or Mr. Hamilton’s to
suggest they know each other.”
Angelica turns back to Aaron, eyebrow raised.
He glances at Martina who looks back impassively, not giving away any doubt,
even though she must also think he’s kept something from her. He takes a deep
breath, “I did know him, when we were young. I didn’t think it worth mentioning
because I thought he died thirty years ago.” Martina stills subtly beside him.
Now both of Angelica’s eyebrows are up, “Excuse me?”
Aaron shrugs helplessly, “I don’t know how it’s possible, but I thought he was
dead.”
Angelica raises a hand, “Okay, saying for the moment I go with that, why didn’t
you recognize his name when you read the dossier.”
Aaron shakes his head, “His name wasn’t Hamilton when I knew him.”
Angelica laughs a little, but she seems less dubious and more just incredulous,
which is fair, “So your childhood friend came back from the dead for a twenty
thousand dollar a plate dinner?”
Aaron isn’t sure how to answer that, but is saved by Tori, who has been
flipping through a document on the tablet this whole time, “Angelica?”
Angelica turns her attention back to Tori, who says, “We don’t have a
particularly in-depth file on Mr. Hamilton, but apparently it is public record
that he used to use his mother’s name, ‘Faucette’” 
“Faucette,” Aaron corrects her pronunciation absently. She and Angelica both
glance at him, and he raises a hand in subtle apology.
Tori continues, “And it’s a matter of record that he and his mother, Rachel
Faucette,” carefully correct with the pronunciation this time, “were both
hospitalized with severe influenza when he was seventeen. Although he
recovered, she died, and he was moved to the U.S. at that time to live with a
distant relative.”
Aaron only realizes that he had begun to hope for Rachel when the hope is
crushed.
Angelica shakes her head, “Okay. I guess that’s settled. Your friend came from
the dead for a fundraiser.” She laughs once tiredly, and leans back in her
chair, a light hand over her eyes, careful of her makeup, “I am sorry we made
this into something it’s not, but you understand we couldn’t have a big press
scandal at the last minute.”
Obviously she thinks he was overwhelmed to see a friend, he reacted more than
he might otherwise, an easy enough thing to explain to the press if need be.
Martina is a firm presence at Aaron’s shoulder, not going to break ranks with
whatever he decides, but this is too important to lie about. Alexander may be
alive, but Aaron has built a whole life based on public service in his supposed
absence, his resurrection isn’t enough to undo that, “I don’t think you made it
into something it wasn’t.” 
Angelica lowers her hand, taking in the firm set of his jaw, “Meaning?”
“Meaning that Tori should probably make an addendum to whatever file you have
on my romantic history.” Martina shifts beside him, he can sense her relief at
not having to lie to Angelica or the team.
Angelica slowly sits up, staring at him, “How many names are we adding?”
He shakes his head impatiently, “Just the one.”
She’s watches him for another second, assessing before shaking her head
ruefully, “Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead?”
He flinches, and something like sympathy creeps into her expression. “Do you
think he’ll be a problem?”
He considers the point, “Well obviously I don’t know much of his recent life,
but he hasn’t thought Iwas dead for any of my career, and he hasn’t said
anything so far.”   
Angelica nods to Tori, who leaves the room for what is no doubt going to be a
long night of research. That seems to be it, but when Aaron and Martina go to
follow Tori out of the room Angelica holds Aaron back, “Look, it seems like you
really cared about this guy. I’m happy for you, but whatever grand reunion you
might be thinking about? It needs to wait until after the election.”
He swallows, “I agree.”
She smiles at him, somehow sad, “That’s why we make a great team.”
On the car ride back to New Jersey, Martina gives him a long hug, “That was
him, huh?”
Aaron huffs a disbelieving laugh, the idea still hasn’t settled in any
meaningful way, “That was him.”
Martina leans into his side, “The world is a strange place.”
There’s no disagreeing with that, so they spend the rest of the ride in
silence.
#
With only a month left in the campaign, Aaron should hardly have time to worry
about Alexander, but somehow he fits it in. Martina, unprompted, sends him the
biographical sketch the campaign had put together on Alexander. So Aaron learns
that, after moving to New York City at seventeen, Alexander had powered through
the CUNY system as an undergraduate, before going to Stanford for a PhD in
history. After that, he’d gotten a job and eventually tenure at a college in
Ohio, before leaving after only a few years for a successful career in popular
history writing, and a move back to New York city. His work was mostly long
form political pieces for The New Yorker , but also two books, the most recent
of which had spent a good deal of time on the New York Times bestseller list.
It occurs to Aaron that he has read some of Hamilton’s articles, had even
enjoyed them, but all without any idea that they were Alexander’s.
Aaron has an assistant procure Alexander’s books, two thick scholarly tomes
from his time in academia, and the two more recent popular press books. Aaron
reads them (in order of publication) in whatever stolen moments he can find on
planes, buses, and cars as he crosses the country to lockdown Angelica’s votes.
He reads in bed before going to sleep, and when he probably should be sleeping.
The books are very good. Of course they are, it’s Alexander, he would never
allow otherwise. The first two are impeccably researched, and easy to read,
even when they are clearly speaking to academic debates that are beyond Aaron’s
knowledge of the field. There are even little hints of wit and humor that liven
up what otherwise might be a dry text.
But it’s the second two books where this writerly skill is allowed to shine.
The books are insightful, informative, and entertaining all at once, sometimes
even making Aaron reconsider ideas he’s long held. It’s a sliver of what
conversations with Alexander used to be like, and it makes Aaron’s chest ache,
even when the text makes him laugh. 
After Aaron finishes the books, he downloads Alexander’s articles from The New
Yorkerwebsite, reading them off a tablet, chasing all the lost years in every
paragraph.  
But he doesn’t try to contact Alexander, mindful of what Angelica is trying to
accomplish, what Aaron’s trying to help her accomplish. And accomplish it they
do. The night of the election, when they win in a landslide and Angelica gets
to stand up there and give her acceptance speech, the first woman, the first
black woman to be elected President of the United States, that moment is too
big for regrets or could have beens. In that moment it all seems worth it to
Aaron, worth every loss and sacrifice needed to be part of this bigger purpose.
#
The day after the election they’re already fully into the work of the
transition. Angelica has no compunctions putting Aaron and his team to work for
what is likely going to be a bumpy handoff between the two administrations.
However, in the midst of this, Martina hands Aaron a note card, folded in half.
“What’s this,” he asks, already opening it. Martina’s directives tend to be
either verbal or attached to heavy file folders. He glances at the page, and
then slowly smoothes it flat on the desk, looking at the name and phone number
printed in Martina’s handwriting.
She points at him, “Do what you need to do, but I suggest you use this and not
something that’s going to get hacked and published before the next election.”
He glances at her, startled, “I wasn’t planning on saying anything hackworthy.”
“Sure, of course. You were completely planning on never reminiscing about your
tragic teen love affair.”
He winces, “Okay, I see your point.”
He folds the paper in half, then in half again, then once more, until it feels
solid in his hand and then tucks it into his pocket, before pointedly turning
back to the list of possible staffers he’s supposed to be sorting through.
#
It’s three days later, in the evening after a long day, when he finally dials
the number. He hasn’t felt this nervous to call someone in a long time, and he
finds himself absently folding and unfolding the paper with one hand as the
phone rings. It rings several times, and he’s just resigning himself to leaving
a message (maybe that’s better, it can be Alexander’s choice to call or not),
when a voice both familiar and unfamiliar answers, “Hello?”
In the background are the sounds of people talking, music, and Aaron abruptly
realizes that it’s a Saturday evening, and that Alexander is probably out with
friends, with a date, having fun. Aaron’s tone is apologetic in light of this
realization, “Hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time.” 
It’s barely audible over a burst of laughter from the background, but Aaron
hears the sound of a sharp in-breath, and then, “Aaron?”
Aaron laughs once, embarrassed, “Sorry, yes.”
“Just-” Then there’s the muffled sound of Alexander talking to someone else,
and then he comes back, “Sorry, just give me a second.”
“I can call back some other-” but Aaron gives up, as the sound of the phone’s
speaker brushing up against fabric of some sort clearly indicates that
Alexander isn’t listening.
Then Alexander is back, “Hi. Sorry about that.”
Aaron tries again, “No, I’m sorry. I can call back some other time-”
“No!” Alexander interrupts sharply and then laughs at himself, “No, I mean.
It’s fine. I was leaving anyway.”
Aaron’s not sure if that’s true, but the sounds of people talking have receded
and then disappeared, so he says, “If you’re sure.”
Alexander laughs again, “I’m very sure.” And then before Aaron can say
anything, “So, hey. Congratulations.”
“Oh, right. Thanks. And uh, thanks for your help.” Aaron winces, it sounds like
he’s about to solicit a donation.
Alexander clearly thinks so too, “Is this a pledge call? Only with your
continuing support can we achieve our goals.”
He’s clearly teasing, but Aaron feels awkward, “No. I wanted- It’s been a long
time, Alexander.”
Alexander drops the tease, matching the seriousness of Aaron’s tone, “It has.
It was good to see you in October, even if it was just for a few seconds.”
“It was good to see you too,” and before Aaron can stop himself, he’s
confessed, “I’ve missed you.”
There’s a pause, then a small surprised laugh, “That’s- I missed you too.”
Aaron can’t quite speak, savoring that response, but Alexander plows on ahead,
“I’ve followed your career, you know.” There’s a hint of the tease back in his
voice.
Aaron clears his throat, “Oh really?”
“Yeah, all my friends know I have a weird crush on the Senator from New
Jersey.”
“Is it more or less weird if he’s Vice President?”
Alexander laughs, and then hums like he’s giving it serious consideration,
“Less I think. So thanks for that.”
“I’m only trying to serve my constituents to the best of my ability.”
Alexander laughs again, but then after a pause he’s dropped the teasing tone
once more, “You seemed surprised to see me. At the event.”
Aaron swallows, “I was.”
“So I take it you haven’t been following my career,” Alexander says, aiming for
lightness, but missing.
“Alexander I-”
“No, it’s all right. I understand.”
“Alexander, believe me, you don’t understand.”
“No?”
“No,” Aaron says firmly.
Alexander sounds tired suddenly, “Okay. Explain it to me.”
Aaron takes a deep breath, “Did you know my family went back to the island the
next summer?”
“No,” Alexander says, sounding confused.
“Just for a couple of weeks. The first thing I did was look for you. There was
an older couple living in your house. They didn’t speak that much English, but
they told me-” He takes another breath, “They told me that you and your mother
had both died during the year.”
Alexander makes a soft noise, a denial without words.
“I didn’t have any reason to suspect otherwise. Until I saw you a month ago, I
thought you were dead.” 
“Dead?” Alexander muses, “You thought I was dead.”
Aaron can barely get out a response, choked with the memory of his grief and
with the need for Alexander to believe that Aaron wouldn’t just forget him,
“Yes.” 
“You were...very surprised to see me.”
“Very,” Aaron says, dryly.
Alexander seems at a loss for what to say, “Well I’m not dead, Aaron.”
“Now I know. That’s why I called you.”
Alexander laughs again, as if he’s not sure what else to do, “Well I’m glad you
did.”
“Me too,” Aaron pauses, but then plunges on, “I am sorry about your mother
though.” 
“Thank you. I’m sorry about your parents. And your wife.”
“Thank you.”
An awkward pause opens up, but then Alexander tries, “So what’s it like being
Vice President so far?” 
Aaron goes along willing, “Busy, very busy. What’s it like being a New York
Times bestselling author?”
“Oh, you’re checking up on me now. It’s good, a nice level of fame. People talk
about your ideas, but hardly anyone recognizes you when you go out to buy
groceries. Ideal really.”
“Maybe I should have done that. The secret service detail is not one of my
favorite parts of the new job.” 
“I could see that.”
“I read your books, you know.” Aaron wants Alexander to know that, to know how
amazing Aaron finds his work, his mind.
There’s a pause, “Did you?”
“They’re wonderful, Alexander. Smart and funny, informative and incisive.
You’re every bit the amazing writer I knew you could be.”
“I’m blushing,” Alexander says wryly, but then adds in a rush, “The one thing I
always thought I’d say if I got to talk to you again was sort of, look what
I’ve accomplished. Maybe that’s pathetic.”
“No, no. I’ve seen it, and it’s worth looking at. I told you, didn’t I? I told
you you would be great.” 
Alexander sounds embarrassed, “You probably don’t know, but that confidence in
me, it’s meant a lot over the years. You were the first person who wasn’t my
mother to see something more in me. When I was unsure, I thought of you, of
whatever it was you could see that I couldn’t.”
“I’m glad,” Aaron says thickly.
“Well that’s my awkward confession,” Alexander says, attempting levity, “It’s
only fair, what’s the one thing you wanted to tell me the most over the last
thirty years?”
Aaron doesn’t answer for a moment, trying to make sure his voice is steady,
“Before I- Before. Before all I wanted was to tell you one more time that I
loved you.” It’s too much confession for someone he hasn’t talked to in a
quarter of a century, but it’s true that he used to imagine having that chance.
That Aaron had wanted nothing more than to make sure that Alexander knew that
before the end, and Aaron has no room for lies after so long. But he doesn’t
let it linger, “But now, I think I’ve already said it, which is, I told you so.
I told you you couldn’t be anything other than a huge success.”  
“Wow,” Alexander says and nothing else.
Aaron feels wrung out, even after so short a conversation, “I should let you
go.”
“Right, of course.”
“But, I mean, I’d like to talk to you again some time, if…”
“I’d like that, too.”
Aaron feels a rush of relief, “Let me give you this number.”
“I’ll try not to share it with the internet.”
“Thanks, much appreciated.” 
Aaron give him the number, and stumbles through explaining that texts aren’t a
great idea, and after some awkward goodbyes they end the call. It seems unreal
that Aaron has just talked to Alexander, and that for all it’s awkwardness it
might happen again.
#
And, to Aaron’s amazement, it does happen again. Alexander calls him the next
week and they have a longer conversation. That call has its awkward moments as
well, most notably when Alexander says carefully, “I think I mentioned that
I’ve followed your career?”
“Yes,” says Aaron slowly, not sure where this going.
“You have this theme, in your campaigns, in your interviews. You talk about
being motivated by removing barriers to success, that the greatest minds might
be lost if we don’t give people equal opportunities. Was that about me? About
my supposed death? Because you never talked about going into politics when we
were kids, and I don’t know, it just-”
Aaron chooses his words carefully, “At first. At first it was. But I’ve met so
many people in my career, it could hardly be just you.”
“Right.” Alexander seems to be thinking, “I just don’t know how I feel about
that. About being some sort of tragic inspiration like a big eyed orphan in a
fundraising commercial.”
“Alexander, it wasn’t- You weren’t some orphan, I didn’t drag you out for the
crowds. I just needed to make sure that I was doing everything I could to make
sure that all sorts of people get a chance to shine. I thought your whole
future was cut off, and even if I was wrong about you, it happens all the
time.”
Alexander sighs, “I understand. I just don’t like the idea of you thinking of
me like some sort of object of pity. I made it.”
“Just like I thought you would. I never doubted that if you had even half a
chance you would.” 
There’s a long pause, and then Alexander swallows, “It’s not really that, or
it’s not just that. I just don’t like thinking about it. About...then. I did
almost die, you know.”
Aaron makes a soft noise of denial, less denial that he knew, and more denial
of the idea.
Alexander’s voice is soft, almost dreamy, “I remember laying there, knowing I
would die. My mother was already gone, I couldn’t do anything for her.
Everything was so cold, and I kept slipping in and out of dreams, but in every
one of them I was dying. You were there sometimes, and sometimes I was all
alone.” He trails off, seemingly lost.
Aaron is just about to say something, to try to bring him back, when he starts
again, “When I first got to America, I dreamt about it every night. It’s hard
when you dream about dreaming to know what’s real. I spent a lot of nights
lost. And later the dream came less often, but I still have it sometimes. It
makes me feel like maybe this is the dream.”
“Alexander, I’m sorry if I-”
Alexander laughs, “It’s not your fault, is it? But somehow knowing you thought
I was dead, it makes it seem more real, or me less real somehow.”  
Aaron isn’t sure what to say, if there’s one thing life has taught him, it’s
that death is close to all of them, but that’s not what either of them need to
hear. So instead he says, as if he's ever had any say, “Well death can’t have
you, I just got you back.”
Alexander laughs, sounding surprised and pleased, “I’ll let him know.”
“Good,” Aaron says, maybe a little too low, a little too intense, but Alexander
doesn’t seem to notice.
#
The phone calls continue and eventually they start to get to know each other a
little. Not the memory of each other, but who they are now, with thirty years
of life separating them.
They talk about day-to-day life, about books they’ve read, about politics, and
before the year is up they’re regular correspondents and, Aaron likes to think,
friends. They’re busy people, they don’t talk as regularly as Aaron might like,
but it only makes each phone call more treasured.
The problem for Aaron is that Alexander is just as brilliant as he’s always
been, still willing to push Aaron intellectually, but he’s also more confident,
settled in himself in a way he never could have been at seventeen. He makes
Aaron laugh when Aaron is frustrated with the slow grind of politics, and helps
Aaron think through problems, his historical perspective offering a different
angle than the people Aaron talks to everyday. And Aaron looks forward to their
conversations with a longing that isn’t quite the friendship Aaron tells
himself it should be. He tries not to let that idea develop. How greedy would
he have to be to ask for more than Alexander alive and in his life, even if
it’s just as a voice at the end of the line.
Aaron has amused Alexander with tales (more theoretical than true) of the near
impossibility of dating as a vice president, the lack of time, the awkwardness
of the secret service. Alexander had also been delighted by Aaron’s humorous
sketches of the dissatisfied wives that sometimes throw themselves at Aaron
with varying levels of subtlety (much less theoretical).
“Maybe if you didn’t have a reputation as a home-wrecker?” Alexander had
teased.
Alexander also casually shares stories of his own dating life, the constant
cycle of men and women that move in and out of his life. With the sporadic
nature of their conversations it seems like every time Aaron talks to Alexander
there’s a new person and a new funny story about the departure of the last
person. 
So Aaron doesn’t want more, it would be unreasonable. Then too, there is his
career to think about. Despite the frustrations of trying to get legislation
through congress, and find the best solutions to problems, Angelica is doing so
much good as president and Aaron likes to think that he’s doing his own share
as vice president. And there’s a new election to think of, which may seem far
enough away now, but given the length of the modern campaign, Aaron knows it
will be coming up only too soon. Aaron isn’t naive enough to believe that a
relationship with a man wouldn’t affect that election. Things have changed
dramatically from when he started in politics, but not that much. So Aaron just
doesn’t think about it.
He assumes it’s not something that crosses Alexander’s mind at all. Aside from
occasional jokes about how his friends think he has a crush on Aaron, Alexander
never hints at anything other than friendship, until one night after nearly
three years of phone conversations.
The campaign for reelection is kicking into gear, adding to the team’s usual
crowded schedule, and Aaron hasn’t had time to call Alexander in too long. So
when he finally gets a chance, he takes it, even though it’s later than he
normally would call. He knows Alexander tends to keep late hours anyway.
The vice president’s residence seems particularly hollow that night. A large
house meant for someone with a spouse and children, it sometimes feels like
Aaron could get lost in it, leaving the secret service to search in vain for
him. Maybe that’s why he ignores the late hour and calls Alexander.
In any case, Alexander answers, and insists despite a voice sounding deep with
sleep that he was wide awake.
Aaron plays along and they talk about nothing and everything as Aaron changes
for bed, feeling the exhaustion of a busy week in his muscles. He’s got his
night clothes on, sitting on the edge of the bed listening to Alexander talk
about his latest article when he hears the distinct sound of sheets moving
against one another and interrupts, “You are in bed, I can hear your sheets.”
“I wasn’t asleep,” Alexander assures Aaron.
“Sure,” Aaron says, and then reminded of his own bed waiting for him, slides
back under his own covers. The feeling of the clean, cool sheets is such a
relief after a day on his feet, and Aaron involuntarily lets out a small groan
of relief as he settles himself more comfortably. 
Alexander’s story has petered out, the silence on the other end of the phone
broken only by a thick swallow. 
“Alexander?” Aaron asks, puzzled.
“Do you ever think about it?” Alexander’s voice sounds even deeper.
That doesn’t clear anything up, “Think about what?” 
“About us?”
Aaron feels his breath catch, taken off guard by the sheer unexpectedness of
it.
Alexander rushes on, “I mean, I know you can’t. I know that. But do you ever
think about it?” 
“What about Luke?” Aaron asks, delaying. Keeping track of Alexander’s partners
is a strain on even someone with a politician’s ability to track names, but
he’s pretty sure that the latest is Luke.
Alexander dismisses Luke easily, “I haven’t seen him in weeks.”
Aaron hesitates, but he can’t lie to Alexander, so finally he admits, “Yes.”
And then more honestly still, “Of course.”
“If you could…”
“I would,” Aaron confirms.
Alexander muses on that for a moment, no sounds but his restless shifting in
his sheets. “If these phone calls are what we have, do you ever think about…”
He trails off. 
“About?”
“About...us, over the phone.”
Aaron suddenly feels warm, his tiredness forgotten in a moment, “Are you asking
me if I would ever consider phone sex with you?” 
Alexander laughs, sounding helplessly frustrated, “I am. Yes.”
Aaron is suddenly reconsidering the deepness in Alexander’s voice, the restless
rustle of his sheets, “When I called, did I interrupt something?”
“Maybe.”
“But you picked up anyway?”
“A phone call with you is more important.” 
That makes Aaron smiles stupidly at nothing, but- “But if you could have both?”
Alexander sounds breathy, but carefully controlled, “I would if I could.”
Aaron is pretty sure this a bad idea, but the idea of Alexander hard and
wanting on the other end of the phone is making Aaron feel more than warm, a
shivering heat under his skin, a restlessness, and so he says, “Touch
yourself.” 
Alexander doesn’t say anything, but the deep, grateful moan that ensues lets
Aaron know that Alexander’s done as asked.
“Tell me,” Aaron says, “Tell me what you were doing before I called.”
Alexander takes a deep, shaky breath, “I was thinking about you.”
Aaron can feel himself getting harder in his sleep pants, and he hastily pushes
them down, taking himself in hand without any real intent yet. “What were you
thinking?" 
“About your hands. I miss your hands.” 
Alexander’s breath is getting quicker in the phone and Aaron can just barely
hear the slick slapping noises of his stroking, “Slower.”
Alexander moans again, but the sounds slow. Aaron moves his hand in a matching
rhythm.
“And were you hard?”
“I was so close,” Alexander whispers.
“And while we were talking?”
It takes Alexander a second to put together the sentence, “I- uh, I was fine
until you made that moaning noise.”  
The sounds have sped up again, and Aaron feel his own hips jerking as if to
match. He starts to stroke himself in earnest, “And are you pretending I’m
there now? That those are my hands on you?” 
Alexander seems beyond words, his only response a long shaky gasp.
Each gasp, the wet sounds, all of it is going straight to Aaron’s cock and he
can feel himself getting closer, his own soft panting adding to the medley of
sounds coming from the phone. He just barely manages to get out, “Let me, uhhh,
let me hear you.”
And Alexander does, and soon his sounds take on a frantic edge, and then with a
hoarse grunt he’s coming. It’s too much for Aaron, and with a few more quick
strokes he comes with his own soft gasps.
For a minute afterward the line is silent aside from their heaving breath.
Finally Alexander pulls himself together enough to ask, “Was that okay?”
Aaron presses his hot face into a cooler part of the pillow, “Yeah.”
It’s not something they really discuss in detail, but going forward a shared
orgasm occasionally becomes a part of their phone repertoire. As difficult as
it is to find time for ordinary conversations with both of their schedules,
it’s twice as hard to find opportunity for this sort of interaction, so it’s
not too often. But for Aaron, it’s the only sexual interaction he’s had in
awhile, and it’s with Alexander, so Aaron will take what he can get. 
# 
Once campaign season really takes off, there’s almost no downtime for anyone.
It’s a rare moment in the lead up to the convention when Aaron and Angelica get
to just take a moment and have a drink together.
She’s kicked off her heels and is pressing her feet into the hotel room carpet,
telling a story about John running interference with a particularly annoying
donor.
After she finishes, she tilts her head at Aaron, her gaze direct and curious,
“Do you ever think about marrying again?”
He regards her, “Is this because it would poll better?” He knows the campaign
just did some polling to take the heat on various ideas, and as always the PR
people are caught in the idea that Aaron’s singlehood is a problem. He had been
largely uninterested in that part of the polling, only wondering whose idea it
was, buried in the various questions, to poll on the idea of the VP having a
same-sex partner (significantly less popular than being single to no one’s
surprise).
She laughs, “No. Or, maybe that’s why I’m thinking of it, but this isn’t a
strategy conversation. I just wondered.” 
He takes a sip of his drink, “Maybe. If I could. With the right person.” 
“If you could?”
He avoids her sharp gaze, “It just depends what you want most, doesn’t it?” 
She sips her drink contemplatively, “You’re seeing someone. You’re seeing a
man.”
He shakes his head, “Not exactly.”
She stands and gathers the bottle for another round, which he waves off. “But
you would,” she says decisively, sitting back down. 
He shrugs.
She sips, observing him for a moment, “So you’re going to run.”
They haven’t talked about it directly, whether he’ll run for president when her
second term is up. In theory he has time to decide, but this campaign is going
to be over in a matter of months, and then the only thing stopping him from
asking Alexander to date, to really date him, is the possibility of running in
another four years for president. Aaron and Martina have gone back and forth.
It’s notoriously difficult for a vice president to get elected after two terms,
but not impossible. He could do more good, he knows the job from watching
Angelica, he thinks he would be good at it. But. It’s hardly the only way he
could do good in the world, there are other ways to serve, and there are other
things he wants, other ways of living his life. This career has defined him
ever since he was eighteen, and he’s not sure he has the passion to go on with
it. And yet, isn’t this where he’s been headed his whole adult life? Isn’t this
what he’s meant to do? His parents’ legacy?
None of these questions settle into a magical answer between one moment and the
next, so he just says, “I don’t know.”
She nods, “You have my support either way.”
They leave it there.
# 
Winning for the second time is amazing, a special savor to the idea that the
American people knew them and chose them again.
With the win behind them, there’s nothing to stop him from making his decision
about the next election, about 2028. He and Martina spend the night after the
election having a long talk. It’s part decision making, part reminiscing about
all they’ve done together, and at the end when she takes her leave, they hug
and she whispers in his ear, “Good luck.”
The next day he calls Alexander, just like any time in the last four years. He
can feel his own pulse pounding in his throat, nervous in a way that he hasn’t
been with Alexander since that first phone call, since their first kiss, since
the beginning.
Alexander answers right away, with a bright, “Congratulations!”
“Thank you.”
“Are you ready for four more years of vice president-ing?” Alexander is happy
for him, Aaron can hear it. 
“I hope so, otherwise I’ve made a big mistake.”
Alexander replies, “Very true.”
Aaron swallows, his mouth feels dry. “I was actually calling to ask you
something.” 
“Okay,” Alexander says, casual.
“Would you be interested in having dinner with me?”
There’s a long pause, and when Alexander finally answers the humor and
lightness have dropped from his tone, “Aaron, we can’t.”
Not exactly what Aaron was hoping for, but, “We can’t because you don’t want
to, or because of my career?”
Alexander laughs, a dark, bitter laugh, “Don’t be stupid. Of course I want to.
But, Aaron, you’re going to be president someday. I’m not going to ruin that.”
 
“Isn’t that my choice?” 
“Aaron…” 
Aaron tries again, pushing down the feeling of desperation that wants to rise
in his chest, “I’ve learned two things in my life. The first is that I have a
duty to work towards a better world, and yes, that’s why I went into politics.
But the second one is not to waste time.” His voice gets tight over the last
two words and he takes a second to steady himself, “Everything in my life has
taught me and re-taught me those lessons.” 
Alexander makes a soft noise that Aaron can’t interpret, but Aaron ignores it,
not finished yet, “I don’t have to be president to work for a better world, but
I don’t see another way not to waste my time with you.”
He stops there, waiting for Alexander’s response, and when it finally comes,
just a soft, “Okay,” it feels like everything has stopped for a moment, and
then, with a rush, the world slips back into motion again, brighter than
before. 
“Okay?”
Alexander laughs, “Yes. May history forgive me, but yes.”
From there, the call turns to arranging the details. It’s a bit more
complicated arranging a date as vice president, especially when your date
doesn’t even live in the area, but they manage. 
# 
It takes awhile to find a time when Aaron’s schedule matches up with
Alexander’s. Neither of them particularly want to try a public date, not with
the potential fallout and the immediate awkwardness of secret service. Instead,
Aaron invites Alexander to dinner at his New Jersey home. Secret service is
still there, but outside, distant enough that they can pretend there aren’t
people who will be aware of exactly how long Alexander visits.
The time they have to settle for is late, but Aaron cooks dinner anyway.
Cooking is not something he’s particularly talented at, but he manages
something that seems edible. Alexander is a few minutes late, and Aaron pulls
everything out of the oven to cool, trying not to be nervous.
Finally the doorbell rings, and Aaron stops fussing over the food to answer.
Alexander is there on the other side of the threshold, and it shouldn’t make
everything stop this time, this time when Aaron expected Alexander, and knew he
was alive, but yet when their eyes meet, Aaron feels trapped, frozen except for
the thud of his heart. 
It’s Alexander who breaks the moment, stepping in and forcing Aaron to back up.
Aaron comes back to himself, and carefully closes the door behind Alexander,
before turning back to look at him again. It’s dizzying to see him, known and
unknown all at the same time. Alexander is studying Aaron with equal intensity,
and a slow silence builds between them. Whatever else has changed, Alexander’s
eyes are the same as they look at Aaron, dark and knowing. Aaron should say
something, offer him a drink, take his coat, or even just ‘hello,’ but he’s
pinned by that gaze, and his attempts to form words just turn to shaky breaths.
It’s like in the last four years they’ve used up their words and now all they
have left is action.
Alexander, still without saying anything, takes a step closer, and then
another, and then one more so that he’s just on the edge of touching Aaron.
Aaron reaches for him, sliding a hand past the open front of Alexander’s heavy
coat to his waist. Aaron just rests his hand there, feeling Alexander’s warmth,
the solid reality of him.
Alexander brings a hand up to rest on Aaron’s jaw, and this small touch of bare
skin to bare skin sends a shiver all through Aaron. His eyes briefly shut with
the power of it, but he opens them again quickly, not wanting to look away from
Alexander, needing to see him after so many years apart.
Alexander moves his thumb along Aaron’s jaw in a tiny caress and then leans in,
slowly, questioningly, for a kiss.
Aaron answers him, by meeting him halfway, and for just a second it’s soft. A
sweet hello to a first love, a teenaged memory, a ghost from the past. But
almost immediately it turns desperate and hard, as if they could bridge the
decades of separation, and the recent years of longing if only they could get
close enough. Alexander has Aaron pressed up against the door of the house, and
Aaron is meeting him kiss for kiss, but also trying to push that heavy coat off
of him, two goals which don’t always work well together.
Finally Alexander pulls back long enough to drop the coat, and then the jacket
he’s wearing under that on the floor. Then he pushes back into Aaron with
enough force that Aaron’s vaguely concerned about secret service hearing the
thump they make against the door. Aaron, forgets that concern quickly as they
kiss again, and he works on pulling Alexander’s button down out from where it’s
neatly tucked in, only to be foiled by an undershirt. Aaron abandons the cause
for a minute, distracted by the way that Alexander is pressing up against him.
Even with all the layers of clothing between them, it’s worth giving his
attention, and he pulls Alexander even closer, trying to feel him through the
frustrating barrier of cloth. 
They’re pushing, grinding into each other, but it hovers on the edge of
satisfying. Finally Alexander pulls back, just enough to be out of kissing
range, clearly trying to take back some control of himself. Aaron stills,
waiting, although they’re still mostly wrapped around each other. Finally
Alexander says, “So do I get the tour?” 
Aaron laughs, dropping his head into the crook of Alexander’s shoulder, where
he takes a couple of deep breaths, reminding himself that he’s an adult and not
a kid who’s going to come in his pants. “Any points of interest you’d like to
see?” he asks. 
Alexander’s hands clutch at Aaron’s waist seemingly involuntarily and then he’s
stepping back, “I wouldn't be opposed to seeing the bedroom.”
Aaron leans against the door, just watching Alexander for a second, his mouth
reddened from the kisses, his hair starting to fall from its band, and the
careful way he’s holding himself back from Aaron. With a deep breath, Aaron
pushes himself away from the door and starts moving toward the bedroom, careful
not to touch Alexander, “This way.”
He doesn’t look back at Alexander, not trusting himself not to get distracted,
until they reach Aaron’s room, with its big bed and clean sheets, and then
finally he turns.
Alexander makes a show of looking around the room, although Aaron would bet
he’s not noticing much of anything, “Nice.”
Aaron nods, and then reaches out just enough to start unbuttoning Alexander’s
shirt.
As Aaron works on the buttons, Alexander runs a hand over Aaron’s wrist, and up
his arm, a strangely innocent touch for where they’ve already been tonight and
then asks, “What do you want?”
Aaron looks up from his efforts, “I want what you want.”
Alexander smiles, “That could be dangerous.”
Aaron’s finished with the buttons and he pushes the shirt off Alexander’s
shoulders, letting his hands slide along the bare skin of Alexander’s arms, and
then reaching for the bottom of undershirt, “Tell me what you want, and I’ll
tell you if it’s dangerous.” Under the shirt, Alexander has chest hair his
younger self could have only dreamt of, and Aaron runs his hands through it
appreciatively.
Alexander is tugging at the bottom of Aaron’s sweater, “What if I want to fuck
you?” 
Aaron reaches down and pulls the sweater off himself, “Sounds good.” He leans
in for another long kiss, enjoying being able to touch chest to chest without
anything between them.
He pulls back after a minute, and begins unbuckling his belt and removing his
pants. Alexander follow suit, and then follow Aaron to the bed, where, finally,
finally, he presses Aaron into the sheets skin on skin, almost close enough,
but not quite.
Sensing that they could lose themselves right here, Aaron regretfully breaks
off the kiss to reach up to the nightstand for the lube and condoms he’d stored
there earlier today. He hands them to Alexander, who says, “You’re sure?”
They both know that Aaron hasn’t done this since the last time he’d done it
with Alexander. Aaron isn’t quite the flexible teen he’d been all those years
ago, but one thing that hasn’t changed is his trust in Alexander, and his
belief that Alexander will make it good for him, so he says, “Yes,” without
hesitating.
And his faith isn’t misplaced, Alexander takes his time and when he finally
slides home Aaron is desperate for it. And with Alexander over him, in him, it
finally feels like they are close enough, even if just for a fleeting moment.
With Alexander’s weight on him, his breath in Aaron’s ear, the remembered scent
of him surrounding Aaron, it feels like Aaron can finally be sure that he’s
really, truly here in a way that a voice on the other end of the phone could
never be.
After, when they are still awkwardly tangled together, sweaty and panting, it
feels like Aaron’s finally let go of a weight he’s been carrying since he was
eighteen.
#
When they eventually make it to the kitchen, dinner is unsurprisingly
completely cold, so Aaron loads it back in the oven to warm up. While they
wait, Aaron gives Alexander a tour of the couch where they get distracted
lazily making out until dinner is not only warm, but actually a bit burned.
After a dinner, palatable only because neither of them are particularly choosy,
they’re both tired and don’t make it much longer before admitting defeat and
going to bed. Aaron has been unable to look away from Alexander for most of the
night and is loathe to turn off the lights, but contents himself with wrapping
himself around Alexander, touch grounding in the absence of sight. 
Despite deciding to go to bed, neither of them seem quite willing to go to
sleep, and they talk softly about nothing in particular, about things they’ve
already talked about, just for the thrill of hearing each other’s voices in
person.
“Do you realize this is the first time we’ve ever spent the night together?”
Aaron asks, enjoying the thought of there still being firsts.
“Do you realize this is the first time we’ve ever fucked in a bed bigger than a
twin?” Alexander quips back, but he’s gently tracing the shape of Aaron’s hand
where it rests on his chest.
Aaron laughs softly, and turns the little bit needed to press a kiss into
Alexander’s shoulder.
They stay like for that a minute, just quiet, and then Alexander says, “Where
do you want this to go?”
Aaron has already given this a lot of thought. From every story Alexander has
told about his recent life, he doesn’t really do long term, although there were
some more distant relationships that seems to have lasted for awhile. But at
the same time, Alexander has talked to Aaron regularly for four years, with
very little reward. He has made it clear that he wants Aaron, that he wants
something with Aaron, and Aaron is going to take whatever that is, “I want what
you want.” 
Alexander laughs, “That’s one thing for a night Aaron, but really, what are you
looking for?” 
Aaron tries to move closer, a pointless endeavor, “I’ve gotten this second
chance with you, I’ve gotten to know you all over again, to fall for you all
over again, and I want whatever you’ll give me.”
Alexander swallows, “What if I want everything? What if I want it to be just
us? What if I want to try for forever? What if I want everyone to know that you
picked me?”
“I’d like nothing better,” Aaron says.
Alexander twists, turning so that they’re face to face in the dark, and reaches
up, as if he can feel if Aaron’s sincere, “Yeah?”
“Yes,” Aaron says, leaning forward to kiss him.
# 
When Aaron wakes up, for one heart pounding moment, he’s not sure if it was a
dream. It still seems unreal, but when he opens his eyes, Alexander is there,
next to him. Alexander has clearly been up for a while, showered and reading
something on his tablet, glasses in place. It’s domestic, and Aaron stays still
for a moment trying not to draw Alexander’s attention, just trying to imprint
the image in his memory. 
Eventually Aaron has to move, but after breakfast they return to the bed. It
occurs to Aaron that Alexander has seen almost none of the house, but with
Alexander pinned beneath him, real and warm, kisses going from soft to
desperate, Aaron can’t really worry about it.
“And what do you want?” Alexander asks.
Aaron considers him, lit by the warm sunlight pouring in from the window. Aaron
runs a hand down Alexander’s chest, his stomach, and takes Alexander’s cock in
his hand, giving it an experimental stroke, “I want you to look at me.”
Alexander nods, and Aaron settles over him, one leg between Alexander’s,
propped along his side so he can see Alexander’s face.
Watching Alexander had been one of Aaron’s favorite pastimes when they were
young. Alexander’s face was so expressive that watching him experience whatever
they were doing was a highlight of whatever they tried together. Watching him
now, as Aaron works him slowly, is no less a pleasure, but deepened by the way
it allows Aaron to track all the small changes in Alexander’s face, the lines
and subtly different planes. Alexander has more control of his expression than
he did when they were young, and Aaron is struck by the urge to break through
that control, to take him apart. 
Alexander patiently watches Aaron as Aaron strokes him just slower than he
remembers Alexander liking, only a small wrinkle between Alexander’s eyebrow
suggesting any frustration. Aaron steadily refuses to speed up, and watches as
the frustration grows, a flush rising in Alexander’s cheeks and his hips
twitching slightly as if he’s resisting the urge to thrust up and set the pace
himself, but Alexander doesn’t complain.
Finally, Aaron starts increasing the pace, and Alexander’s breath comes faster,
but he follows his instructions and doesn’t look away from Aaron. Alexander is
getting closer, maybe right on the edge of coming, when he lets his eyes slip
shut, restlessly turning his face into his pillow. Aaron stops his hand, and
Alexander’s eyes fly open, looking betrayed. His hand reaches up to clutch at
Aaron’s arm, as if he can pull Aaron back into action.
“I want you to look at me,” Aaron says again, and understanding pushes past the
haze of lust on Alexander’s face, and he laughs a bit breathlessly, and nods
again, meeting Aaron’s gaze with more determination this time.
Aaron smiles, and starts again, slow and only gradually moving faster.
Alexander hasn’t let go of Aaron’s arm, and the flush slowly moves down to his
chest. His breath quickens in time with Aaron’s hand. He seems determined to
play this through, and he holds Aaron’s gaze, even as his breath becomes harsh
and his fingers begin to press into Aaron’s arm in a way that is sure to leave
bruises.
Aaron watches Alexander, tracing the expressions that are darting across his
face. Alexander has lost his new control, his expression showing all of his
arousal, his frustration, and his determination. He’s lovely, and Aaron strokes
him faster, until finally Alexander comes, all his breath catching in the back
of his throat, mouth open, as he shakes through a long, silent orgasm, lovelier
still. It eventually ends, leaving him gasping for breath and trembling
slightly.
Aaron can’t even wait for Alexander to come back to himself, as always watching
Alexander has left Aaron on the edge. He reaches down with a hand already
coated in Alexander’s come to stroke his neglected cock, and before very long
at all he’s coming too.
Aaron collapses onto Alexander, who languidly runs a hand over Aaron’s back as
the waves of pleasure recede, and they lay together in a sweaty heap, not
talking, not sleeping, just enjoying each other’s presence, until Aaron starts
to feel guilty and offers Alexander a real house tour.
#
Aaron has to be back in DC that evening, so they don’t get that much more time
together, but they part with a lingering kiss, and the understanding that going
forward they are in this together.
Martina is happy for Aaron, Angelica congratulates him, and then immediately
shifts into speculation about next election now that he’s taken himself out of
the running, and the communications staff look daunted to have to break the
idea of bisexual vice president to the American people. However, they have some
time to workshop their approach because Aaron and Alexander have decided not to
jump straight from a first date to the public eye.
They manage to grab moments of time here and there, Alexander becoming a repeat
visitor at the vice president’s residence, but in truth their relationship is
still mostly conducted over the phone. Despite this, Aaron is happy, floating
on the high of a new relationship, and in no particular rush to bring the
American people into the honeymoon phase with them.
It would be too much to expect this private little bubble to last for very long
though, whatever Aaron’s life has been, it has never been just his. In this
case it’s Angelica who asks them to go public, for a good cause of course.
She and the party are trying to push through an updated civil rights bill that
expands the protected classes, and undoes some of the damage done by the last
administration. It could be a big step forward for a lot of people, but of
course it’s running into all the old arguments about equal rights versus
special rights, and it’s in no way certain to pass.
Angelica holds Aaron back after a strategy session in the lead up to the final
vote. When the room has emptied, she says looking at him with the clear gaze
that makes everyone around her want to be better, to live up to her
expectations, “You know that if you were to talk about your experiences you
could add something to this discussion.” 
He knows, so he promises to talk to Alexander about it. Alexander agrees that
they have a chance to do some good, which is how Aaron finds himself giving an
interview on a very special nightly news, ready to serve even in this.
For reasons that are not fully explained to Aaron, but he suspects have more to
do with sensationalism and less to do with the integrity of the news interview,
the interviewer is not given any hint that Aaron is there to do anything other
than talk about general administration support for the bill.
She smiles professionally at Aaron before they begin, and he feels a little bad
for how far off the tracks he’s about to take her interview, but not too bad
since she’ll probably be youtube famous in an hour.
Her first few questions generally set up the contents of the bill, what it will
and will not do. Finally she asks, “But you, despite the limitations of the
bill, and despite those who say it may place too many restrictions on business
and those with sincere religious beliefs, you support it?”
That’s Aaron’s cue, “I do support the bill, and let me say a little bit about
why I support it. We’ve made a lot of progress in this country, but I think
there’s further we can go. The wonderful thing about America is that we are
willing to grow and to improve. For instance, my grandparents and parents lived
in a world where racial discrimination was not only notprohibited, it was
actually written into our laws. And America was able to change its laws, pass
laws that allowed us to start to move past that painful history. And, while we
still have much further to go, I think we can agree that America has moved
closer to the ideals that it was founded on.” So far no surprises, the
reporter’s practiced attentive face is fixed on him, even while she’s subtly
shifting to her next page of questions. But Aaron goes on, “Let me give you
another example that a lot of us experienced unfold in our own lives. As a
bisexual man, I spent most of my life living in a country where discrimination
against me and people like me was not only generally accepted, but enshrined in
law.”
The interviewer’s mouth has dropped open slightly. She looks like she’s not
quite sure that she believes he said that. As he goes on her gaze darts over
his shoulder, no doubt at her producer, who must confirm the reality of the
situation in some way. Aaron pointedly keeps his eyes on her, and not on
Martina, who is laughing silently into her hand just on the edge of his vision.
Aaron, ignores it all and smoothly continues, “But we as a country were able to
begin the difficult work of changing those laws, and changing minds. Again,
there’s still more work to be done, but today I have rights that I did not have
even fifteen years ago.”
The interviewer has gathered herself and is opening her mouth, with a new
question, but Aaron plunges on, “I know in my own life that discrimination
guided my choices. I wanted to serve this country honestly, and it it's only
now that I'm no longer planning to run for election that I’ve felt able to ask
someone I've cared about for a long time to be with me. It wouldn’t have been
fair to him, or to the American people to hide our relationship, but I’m not
sure I would have had the success I have had if I had been out. Of course even
now, there are places in America where we would not be given the same rights as
I would have received with my wife.”  
The interviewer opens her mouth again, this time leaning forward insistently,
although whether to pursue the relationship revelation, the mention of
Theodosia, or the idea that Aaron won't be running for president Aaron can’t be
sure. 
Aaron keeps going, ignoring the lean, “So I’m very aware of how laws, either
discriminatory laws, or laws preventing discrimination have affected my
grandparents, my parents, and how they’ve affected me, and that's why I listen
seriously to people who tell me about their experiences, whether that’s because
of gender identity, disability or religion. I also know that the laws we
already have don't prevent every kind of discrimination, and that this bill
certainly won’t be able to do that either, but I believe the more children are
raised knowing that these forms of discrimination are wrong, to the point of
illegality, the closer we come to a society where kids just don't think in
those terms.” 
Without warning of the content, the time the network has allotted for the
interview is quite short, and the interviewer’s frustration when she’s forced
to wrap it up without pressing him on his personal revelations is palpable. Her
smile after the cameras turn off is more rueful acknowledgement of a game well
played than anything.
Aaron feels good about managing to keep the interviewer mostly on the issues,
but of course the same cannot quite be said of the media coverage that follows.
It’s only tangentially about the bill, mostly breathless speculation about who
Aaron is dating, and a mixture of gleeful and hateful reactions to the
revelation that the vice president is dating a man.
Before the speculation can really take off, The New Yorker posts Alexander’s
latest piece. The article is classic Alexander, both skillfully tracing the
historical import of anti discrimination laws and their results, and telling
his own story. Of course this time his story is also Aaron's. It’s done in such
a way that Alexander offers the public the gossip they desire neatly wrapped in
an argument for the bill, frankly a virtuoso bit of publicity carefully
negotiated between White House Communications, Alexander, and The New Yorker.  
As a result, although the media fallout is intense, Aaron and the White House
are able to stay more or less on message, and in the end, although the vote is
close, the bill passes.
# 
His relationship with Alexander remains a point of public interest throughout
the rest of the administration. Aaron, with long practice in turning his
personal life into a tool for his politics, uses this interest as a vehicle to
discuss his pet causes, the good work of the administration, and the changes
that are still needed. 
During the next election, Aaron is called on to campaign for the Democratic
candidate, a senator from New England who seems so young to Aaron, but manages
to win the election in a narrow victory. Afterward, Aaron turns, like many
former politicians of note, to nonprofit work, Martina still by his side,
although she’s also in demand as a consultant. LGBT groups are particularly
interested in his service and he does his part with them, but as always his
main interest is in leveling the playing field, particularly in terms of
opportunities divided by income. Aaron and Martina use the media’s continuing
interest him in whatever ways they can to help bring attention to their causes.
It’s worthwhile, but it means Aaron and Alexander never quite leave the public
eye, which can be wearying at times. Alexander, no longer able to go to the
grocery store without being recognized, seems resigned to his fate, and uses
his newfound fame to his own good cause - boosting the sales of his latest
book.
Their life settles into a regular pattern of sorts until one night, in the
middle of sex, Alexander gasps, “Marry me.” 
Aaron doesn’t pay much mind to a request made on the edge of orgasm, but
afterward Alexander says, “Do I get an answer?”
Aaron looks at him in disbelief, “That was a serious question?” 
Alexander pouts, “Why not?” 
After another moment of silent contemplation, Aaron says, “What a proposal
story I’ll have.”
Alexander relaxes slightly and smiles, “Ah, but think of it. You can really
never tell anyone, can you? This is just ours.”
Aaron continues to stare at him, and then finally with a rueful chuckle he
leans in for a kiss, “You are ridiculous, and I love you. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
#
In deference to their past, they marry on the beach. In acknowledgment of the
present, it’s a beach in Jersey. Secret service is not thrilled and it rains,
but their wedding is attended by the who's who of American politics. Despite
the rain, Aaron thinks it’s picture perfect. One photograph in particular,
shows Aaron and Alexander, artfully framed by the current president and former
president, grumpy secret service members adding both gravitas and absurdity.
What Aaron loves about the photo is not the composition, or the famous faces,
but the smile passing between Alexander and himself, lost in each other’s gaze
as if no one else is there.
The photo is widely printed, the media apparently pleased to end Aaron’s story
with ‘and they lived happily ever after,’ at least for the moment. In part, due
to this media blitz, the photo becomes widely remembered, eventually making it
into history books on the period. Aaron’s tragedies finally eclipsed by his
joy, as he and Alexander enter the pages of history, where some future
historian, some future Alexander, can analyze the exact meaning and
significance of their lives and love.
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