"Watch your tone!" Washington isn't this prickly most of the time, yet his eyes are ablaze with pent-up anger. "I'm not a maiden in need of defending, I am grown."

"Charlea Lee, Thomas Conway, these men take your name and they rake it through the mud." She's going to explode; she'd defended Washington's honor and this is what she gets?

He sighs. "My name's been through a lot, I can take it."

"Well, I don't have your name, I don't have your titles, I don't have your land." She doesn't have Washington's indisputable fame, either, and if she ever let her identity go public, if she got any fame it'd be hate, shame that a man could be this stupid. "But, if you—"

"No."

She grits her teeth. "If you gave me command of a battalion, a group of men to lead— I could fly above my station after the war!" She wants the fame that'd come from writing, from her job, not because she's a freak.

"Or you could die! And we need you alive!"

If anyone knew, if anyone knew how she despises her flat chest, the facial hair, the broad shoulders, they wouldn't need her alive. "I am more than willing to die," her voice threatens to crack as she steps closer to Washington.

"Your wife needs you alive, son, I need you alive!"

Alex's hate for her body, for her genitalia, for her place, gets out when she shouts, "Call me son one more time!"

Washington's face softens just a little, his fist clenched. Alex is helpless under him, and hot tears threaten to spill out; before she knows it, her knees shake as she sobs against her arm. "I'm not— I'm not... I'm not anybody's son."

She doesn't look at Washington when she says, barely loud enough for him to hear, "I'm someone's daughter."

"You disguised..." Washington blinks when she looks up, and she's going to throw up because of the look of confusion in his face. He'll kick her out of the army. She won't have anything to do. She has to escape, pretend this didn't happen. "You disguised yourself as a man to participate in the army?"

She stares at him as if he's gone crazy. "W-What? No. It's worse than that, I'm afraid."

"Explain this, then, Alexander. I'm pretty curious." Washington's gaze is understanding, although he doesn't know she's... this. Her guts turn at the thought of telling him what she is.

She glances up at him, her breath caught in her throat. "I'm— I'm a woman. I have a penis, yes, but I've felt like one since I have memory."

Washington blinks a few times, maybe four, as his stern gaze becomes less and less stern as the seconds pass. She awaits a slap to the face, a slur thrown at her— anything.

Anything but the soft smile that appears on his face. She doesn't see him smile often, much less in this kind of situation. "You're transgender, then?"

"Pardon me?"

"Transgender. It's a term I heard in the early seventies— people who were born one gender but identify with another."

Alex breathes heavily. There's a word... there's a word for her. "Other people — it's not just me?"

Washington pulls her into a hug. It's asphyxiating, and she doesn't want ro see him as a father figure. The thought is scary. "Of course it isn't just you. Gays are fighting for their rights, yes? Transgender people are, too."

Alex dissolves against his touch. It's overwhelming to know she isn't alone, that she doesn't have to bear a burden that absolutely no one will understand. "So I... I want to be called Alex, just Alex, then, I think."

"I can't tell the rest of the army," Washington looks sad. "But you can tell your friends. Laurens is a gay man, is he not? He won't do anything."

"How'd you know what he is?" Alex whispers.

"I've walked on him making out with a man more than once, Alex."

She shrugs, although her heart skips a beat when she gets called the right thing. Alex. Not Alexander. It's a little close to it, but almost nobody calls him the shortened, androgynous version of the name she was given. "I'll tell— I have to tell Eliza. I have to tell my wife."

Her knees buckle, her vision tunnelling. She has to tell her wife.

"You'll be able to, Alex. All in time. Is Alex short for Alexandra? I'll call you that if you wish for me to."

"I... I prefer just Alex for the moment. I haven't brought myself to look for names that fit me yet. I was... scared, General Washington."

"It's alright, child." Him calling her a parental name that isn't 'son' makes her buzz with both uncertainty and bliss. "Go home now, your wife needs you."

"Sorry?"

Washington raises an eyebrow. There is no debate to be had. She hangs her head low and goes to get a train back to Albany.

The train ride is tedious and long; she reads a book while the landscapes pass along her window. She's afraid. The game has changed in this day, in a few hours. If she hadn't participated in this, if she hadn't let Laurens beat Lee up, she wouldn't have a name for her identity, she wouldn't know she wasn't the only one.

When she steps out the train she's got her suitcase in her hand and she walks to get a taxi. Her heart beats hard at the thought of letting Eliza know; her beautiful, beautiful wife didn't deserve to deal with this. She'd probably never heard of such thing, much less think of it as normal.

She wants to shave her beard off; let her hair grow out. It's already down to her shoulders, but she told herself it was just because enough times to believe it. A vague flash of being twelve in Nevis, a woman calling her 'you poor girl' when her mom died. It'd filled her heart with joy, although she wouldn't call her that as her mom was gone.

The cab ride to her residence in the outskirts of the city is quiet. She thanks the driver, pays him and walks inside her house. Eliza squeaks "Alexander, you're home!". She looks at her and she realizes she's hopeless.

"I'm home, Eliza." She notices the bump in Eliza's belly, the way she holds herself... Oh. Oh no.

"I'm pregnant," she tells her in an agitated whisper, and Alex doesn't know how can she tell her she's a woman now that this is something she knows. She grips the armrest of the sofa as she sits down. "The pregnancy test said positive a month ago."

"You should've told me."

"I wrote to the General the same day."

"You— you should've told me." Tears spill out her eyes immediately; she's already cried today and she doesn't think she'll be able to stop.

"I'm not sorry." Eliza ruffles her hair, passes a thumb along her wet cheek. "If it's a boy, can we name him Philip?"

Alex smiles and threads Eliza's hair. It's soft, perfurmed, womanly. Hers is messy and dirty and manly. It's not a good feeling. "Of course, Betsey."

"You look... worried. Is something wrong?"

Alex averts her gaze. Eliza doesn't like women, much less mem who think they are women. "Do you... I'm… I think I..." she can't find words. For once in her life, she can't find words.

"You can tell me, Alexander."

"Don't—" her breath catches in her throat. She's scared. "I'd prefer Alex, Eliza. Just Alex. And she."

Eliza glances up at her, eyes blown wide and questions in them. "You're... a woman? Transsexual, they call it?"

"He told me they call it transgender."

"Sounds similar."

Eliza pushes her closer, putting her head on her shoulder, and it's all too domestic and not as freaked out as she'd expected it to be. "You aren't… bothered?"

"I'm bisexual, Alex. I don't care. It's weird to think you're a woman, when in these four years... you've only been a man. The man I love, yes, but a man."

"A bisexual immigrant, an orphan. And I just added another problem to the list."

"Your identity isn't a problem."

It will be one soon enough— they both know that. Eliza pushes her closer and their lips meet. She melts into her wife's arms and, for a second, everything seems okay. Eliza's lips have a whiff of cherry and they're silky smooth against hers, chapped and scabbed from biting them too much.

"Who found out you were trans?"

Alex glances at her. Her eyes have the same love she's always seen in her. "General Washington did." She talks about their confrontation, her breakdown and Washington's explanatiom. She wants to tell the whole world, but this is so dangerous. It's so dangerous to merely exist for her.

"You should tell Laurens."

"I should."

Eliza squeezes her shoulder, and God, she wants to see herself have a pronounced chest. She wants to see herself have a figure, have hips, have narrow shoulders. She wishes she could be a woman.

As she writes the letter, she hopes Laurens will understand. She hopes someday, it'll be safe to be herself. To be a she, a transgender woman. The thought fills her with determination.

Before she knows it, she's walking to the library with Eliza holding her hand. They buy books about sexuality and gender and sex and bring them home. By when they're done, it's been half a day since Washington talked to Alex, and her wrist hurts from how much she's written.

In one day, Alexander Hamilton, aide de camp for General Washington and became Alex Hamilton, a trans activist and writer. Eliza cuddles next to her as she talks about what she wishes, what she wishes she could do to her body, to change herself.

Eliza promises her she'll give her some dresses to try on from Angelica. Eliza's sister is about the same height as Alex, so it could help.

"You've known for less than twenty-four hours, and yet you're here, my love."

"You know I'm faster than most, Betsey."

Eliza plants a kiss on her forehead, and Alex sighs with bliss. She's happy now that she's aware of what she is, that she isn't a freak of nature, one and only. She can do something for others like her if she tries to.