bakerstreet | The world is quiet here.

The world is quiet here.

When You Say Nothing at All

Words can be twisted into any shape. Promises can be made to lull the heart and seduce the soul. In the final analysis, words mean nothing. They are labels we give things in an effort to wrap our puny little brains around their underlying natures, when ninety-nine percent of the time the totality of the reality is an entirely different beast. The wisest man is the silent one. Examine his actions. Judge him by them.

A picture's worth a thousand words, but what about an action? When you're with someone, or even just so attracted to a person that you've watched them for a while, you are probably tuned in to them more than any random off the street. You can read their body language. You know their moods, what makes them happy or sad or angry, and, hopefully, how to comfort them or cheer them up. Words aren't the only way to do this: an embrace, a soft kiss, or even an offer of a hand could be worth a MILLION words.

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[ Okay, that. That hurt. Jefferson does know how to use his words as weapons, and Madison knows, some way, that the reason he's using these words is because Jefferson knows that Madison does, and did, trust him, and the breaking of that trust is a wound that's not mending. Even if he doesn't know just how deeply the knife goes, Thomas knows it's not glancing off.

And knowing that just. It's too much.

Madison hunches his shoulder, squeezing his eyes for a moment to stop any hint of tears, and focuses on the damn edits.

It's only as he turns a page that he grinds between his teeth, without even looking up, ]

I am not my soulmate's soulmate. And I could not bear your pity. I don't think I can bear this any better, so there. Have your reason.

[ His hands seem to just be resting on the desk, on each side of the pages that he's been working on... except his knuckles are so tight they're almost white, just pressing down on the desk.

To keep them from shaking. ]

[Sometimes the realization that he's an asshole hits him slowly but surely. Sometimes he has time to adjust, change so his blows don't hit has hard and the guilt doesn't eat at him so badly later. But only sometimes. Other times reality slaps him in the face when he pushes too far, demands too much, digs the knife slightly too deep and he can't take it back.

This is, obviously, one of those times. He swallows for a second, trying to find his footing because it feels like his body has forgotten how gravity works. 'I'm sorry' feels heavy on his tongue but that's exactly what Madison doesn't want him to say. He knows that much.

He reaches to cover one of Madison's (giant) hands with his own. The drafts have been completely forgotten.]

You should have told me.

[ Madison stares at the hand on top of his for a little while, his fingers still, pressed to the surface of the table so his hands wouldn't tremble.

It's only the first touch that changes the world. And it stays changed. At least so the theory goes. But they touch so seldom (and whose fault is that?) that it seems like each of Thomas's touches, especially the ones intentionally given, as opposed to being tricked, causes color and joy to burst around Madison. (He's slipped once, he'll do it again, but he'll try not to. He'll try more than anyone else.)

Slowly, is eyes rise up to meet Jefferson's, and he swallows. ]

I couldn't, Thomas.

[ And his gaze drops again. ]

I'm sorry.

[Thomas considers himself a pretty smart man. One of the smartest men he knows, actually, and he works with his fair share of geniuses including the man next to him. Whatever people's personal opinion of him might be they all agree: he is incredibly and undeniably smart.

Which is how he knows there isn't something that doesn't quite fit in here. Sure, he can believe Madison keeping the soulmate to himself after he realized it wasn't mutual. James is incredibly prideful for someone who has, at the same time, plenty of self esteem issues. It's one of the things he loves the most about the man. So he wouldn't allow anyone to feel pity for him, not even Jefferson. That part makes sense.

Except...]

But why not tell me? After I found out. After you slipped. Why let me continue torturing you this way?

You are smarter than that, my friend.

[ Madison wants, so much wants, to ask, would you have told anyone, if Martha's world hadn't changed at your touch?

But there are things that do not get touched upon, not even between them, and Martha is one of them. Possibly the most important among them. Instead, he shrugs, still looking down. ]

I thought you'd figure it out. And leave me alone in my shame.

[ His voice is quiet and even, almost flat, until the last word. There's heat in it. Gods, he should stop talking. He should just stop talking, because Jefferson truly is a brilliant man, and he might just guess at another part of the reasons why he didn't speak out, to anyone. Not all the reason, however. He won't give out all of the reason. ]

[Shame echoes in Jefferson's head, like a note someone has gotten wrong in a score that ruins the entire thing. In this case it ruins Madison's confession entirely because there's nothing, absolutely nothing on Earth Madison could do to bring himself shame in Jefferson's eyes. The one time he had done something that actually hurt and disappointed him, he'd had his reasons.

Which means he's ashamed of whoever it is that's his soulmate. He frowns, and the hand touching Madison's isn't going anywhere. Neither are those drafts but he's always been very good at winging something at the last minute- this is more important than pesky things like ruling a new nation.]

Is she a slave? [He ask, quietly. Being a slave's soulmate wold get people's tongues going, but it not being reciprocated...]

[ It both hurts, that touch, and soothes. And a part of Madison just can't bring himself to break it.

He blinks at the guess, then shakes his head. ]

Thomas... let it go. Please. It's... [ He swallows. ] It should be enough that I didn't tell that person, no more than I told you. Can't that... can't that be enough?

[ Because saying it's a woman would be a lie, but saying that it's a man, well, that surely will turn Jefferson away. It's illegal, it's a sin, and Madison can't - can't! - bear to have Thomas turn away from him that way. The anger was bad enough, it was torture, but losing Thomas altogether...

He doesn't know what he'll have left to live for. ]

[He squeezes his hand. After a second's pause as he thinks about it (really, truly considers it because it's Madison and he deserves as much), he shakes his head.]

I need to know. You deserve- you deserve the best soulmate in the entire world, Madison. You are smart, brilliant, selfless, caring, all those everyone wishes they could be. [All those things Jefferson isn't.]

I need to know who would make someone like you harm yourself like this.

[ Okay but. But. This, finally, makes Madison look up at Jefferson. His eyes are wide and dark, and welling up, just a little bit. He takes a deep breath, and it's shaking.

Slowly, he turns his hand under Jefferson's so he clasps his palm in return, holding on. ]

Thank you, Thomas. Even if the universe, or god, or whoever decides these things thinks that I deserve something else... it means a lot to me that you believe so. It's enough. [ His head falls forward once more. ] It's enough.

James.

[Enough is enough. He lets his hand go, but only so he can wrap it around his shoulders and pull him into some sort of hug. Madison is supposed to be steady as a rock, calm, gentle. Not this turmoil of emotions that Jefferson doesn't know how to handle. Thomas is the mess, not James, that's always the way it has been and if something has shaken the man this badly he wants to be there to fix it.]

You have to tell me. You can't expect me to ignore this.

[ For a moment, Madison's fucking body just leans into that hug, into Thomas calling his name, into, just so very briefly, being the most important thing in Thomas Jefferson's universe, because he can't stop himself. Because he's been craving this for a decade, because he has been in pain, because because because...

Then, just as he's reaching up to hold on to him, to cling to him, his makes his arms drop down. He makes himself straighten up, almost pull away from that hold. He has no right to this. He has no right to sully this man, either. Most of all, he has no right to mislead him. ]

It's a man, Thomas. It's not a woman at all. You don't - you don't have to touch me, if you don't want to.

[Jefferson just frowns for a second, trying to process it. It's not... unheard of, to have a soulmate of your same sex. It's also not unheard of to have a completely platonic soulmate. People usually assume they go together with romance and sex so he understands why Madison would want to keep it a secret.

It stings a little bit that he'd want to hide it from Jefferson himself, who'd never assume such a thing of his best friend but he understands it must have been a hard position to be in for the other Virginian. And yet, and yet, there's a small voice in his head that won't stop complaining.

'If it had to be a man, why not me?']

Nonsense.

I know most people would assume, but I wouldn't. [He gives him a squeeze.] I've heard of best friends with each other's name, being in love with someone else. I understand how that goes.

And he is still incredibly lucky to have you.

[ Thomas Jefferson is old-fashioned, proper, Virginian. He's Enlightened, too, and he struggles to bring improvement to the world, but he's still... Madison knows how deep those roots go.

He has never allowed himself even the seeds of a hope that Jefferson's friendship for him will overpower all of that.

For a long moment Madison just sits still, waiting for Thomas to retract his words, to change his mind, to pull away. But he doesn't.

So Madison just. Crumbles against him. Not clinging (though he wants to), just pressing his forehead into Jefferson's side, squeezing his eyes as silent sobs shake him. There may be tears, he's not sure - it's just been such a long time of holding on so tight to these two secrets, that letting them out, and not becoming an outcast, not becoming a pariah in Jefferson's eyes... it's more than he's hoped for.

He wants to say that it doesn't feel like anyone's lucky in the situation. He doesn't want to say anything more, and he doesn't, not just now. Just cries, silently. ]

[If anything, Jefferson is confused. He reaches to run a hand up and down his friend's back because he figures what's comforting to him when he's down will be comforting to James too.

What Madison has just confessed would get some tongues in Congress going for days with speculation, and it could get him in serious trouble- even just the rumors would hurt his reputation in a way that's nearly irreparable. But he should have known Thomas would know better.]

Did you think I would assume you'd... [Well. How to put it?] Engage in the physical aspect of it, as well?

[ Yeah, well, it's complicated. (People believe what they want to believe is true, or what they're afraid is true. Fiction may have postulated it, but that doesn't make it untrue.)

The words, the last sentence, make Madison flinch away (the last sentence - the motions of Jefferson's hand, up and down, etch deep through Madison's body and into his very soul with the soothing), folding his hands in his lap, firmly not touching. He can't do this. He can't be touching Jefferson in the context of the conversation. In the context of the question.

He shakes his head, feeling his eyes all puffed out and wet. ]

The physical aspect is not a problem at all. The emotional is not that easy to stay away from. [ He shouldn't be saying this. He shouldn't. But in for a penny, in for a pound - he's started talking, and now things that he's kept in for years and years and years just bubble up, because it's Thomas, and, well.

Even after the mishap with Hamilton, the letter with Thomas's words is still above his heart. He's always been the one person who's cared enough for him to comfort him. Whose opinion mattered.

Who might have been able to relieve some of that pain.

So yes, the words are tumbling out of him and, unlike the touch, he doesn't have the strength to stop them. ]

[Jefferson's lips form a perfect O, because Madison's body language is probably revealing more than the man intended to. Even before he speaks Thomas is already running some theories through his head. What Madison says- what Madison implies with his words only confirms it.

This time he takes a few seconds to reply.]

You are not talking about simple feelings of camaraderie.

[It's not a question, but it's not an affirmation of a fact either. He waits for... something. He isn't sure what. He wonders what he'd feel if it were someone else- Disgust, maybe? He isn't sure. Not until Madison confirms his train of thought is in the right. But he'd never, ever feel that kind of thing towards Madison, no matter what he did. He's sure of that.

He feels something else, coiling in his stomach and making his hands twitch but he doesn't have a name for it yet.]

Who, James?

[ Madison's head whips up, but for a while he doesn't speak, just stares up at Jefferson. Then he runs a hand over his face more smudging the tears than wiping them. ]

Why, Thomas? So you can find him and do what? Nothing you can do will change the facts. Just let it be. Please.

Please.

[Thomas reaches for his handkerchief, handing it over. Thomas has always been overdramatic with his emotions, but Madison's tears are usually honest. In the mess that are Thomas' emotions right now the one he can single out is guilt for bringing Madison to this point.]

I don't know. [His voice is soft when he admits it. He's usually good at winging it but he gets the feeling this time he can't get away with it so easily. He takes a seat by James' side.]

You probably don't remember, but I told you once if you were my soulmate I'd never let you go. So now I'm wondering who would be stupid enough to do just that.

No matter- [He shakes his head, curls bouncing. He wasn't sure what he was going to say but now that the words are out he can't stop.] No matter the consequences.

[ Because Madison is such a mess right now, he tries to surreptitiously even smell the handkerchief. Gods above, how low has he fallen.

His eyes turn up to catch Jefferson's again, though. ]

I know you wouldn't let go. You had your soulmate, and you treated her like the heart of your heart, the most precious thing in your life. [ Which is even the answer to Thomas's question, but it doesn't show. It shouldn't show. ]

But, once again, he doesn't know. It's not his stupidity. It's just me trying to do what's right.

I've found my peace with the situation, that's why - that's why I asked you to let it go. And I'm asking you again. Please. Let's just. Do our work, pretend I never slipped, or whatever will make it possible for you to let it go. It doesn't matter, or, rather, nothing will ever come out of it. [ Of me. ] That is all.

[Jefferson would want nothing more than to actually do what Madison is asking of him. It'd be so easy to pretend, so easy to go back the way things were. He was so happy latching onto the last good thing the universe had left him, the last remain of shades in a black and white world.

But when has he done anything that would work to his own benefit?]

He is married, then.

[ Madison's lips twist in a broken smile that doesn't light up his eyes even a little. ]

As you can see... plenty of reasons why I want to pretend it didn't happen in the first place.

[ He's not budging, not tonight.

But he's not going anywhere, he can't go anywhere from Thomas's side. Not even if every shade of color he sees is a reminder of the pain, of being - loved, but not the way he needs. Of not being able to make the world bloom in its full intensity for Thomas. Of not...

Not being enough.

(And, despite his words, despite the truth in his words, he's never actually tried to forget. Not even when Thomas was far away, not even when Thomas was happy with somebody else. He hasn't. And he won't. ]

[Jefferson sighs, reaching to press their foreheads together as he closes his eyes. Part of his brain screams that this is far too close, especially with someone who's just confessed to having-

feelings. For other males. He knows it's wrong, he knows everyone has always told him it's wrong. He knows what people think. But maybe he can shut all those voices off, just for a second, and focus on what he really feels. Not what he needs to feel to make people follow him.

What does he feel, anyway?]

James? Have you ever been jealous?

[ Madison can't breathe. He literally can't breathe. (For a moment, he doesn't want to try. This, this is one perfect moment. He can just. He can just die, like this, and he'll be happy.

But the familiar pain in his lungs, the way new tears spring to his eyes because of the lack of air, familiar sensations lead to familiar reactions, and he starts trying to gasp some breaths in, until some air does make it into his lungs with a stupid wheeze. He hates his body so much, sometimes...

After another long moment, fighting off a cough, his fists bunching the fabric over his thighs, he finally... can answer. Sort of. ]

Yeah. For a while... every day. I'm not a saint, Thomas, even if Heaven is my witness the person is far too good for that.

[ She was far too good. But he can't... he can't give himself away like this.

And he's still a little jealous, even if she's no longer among the living. And he's horrible, he doesn't deserve. Doesn't deserve this touch, doesn't deserve Thomas's mercy, but he can't let it go now. He cannot. ]

[He opens his eyes for a second, then firmly closes them back again. Too close, they are far too close. And yet, he can't remember the last time he felt this comfortable. If he could, he'd completely lean against him.]

Well, I never have felt it. [Martha was a powerful entity, drawing everyone's attention to herself instead of Thomas at the parties full of people that made him so nervous. And yet, he'd never had an ounce of insecurity. She was his and he was hers and that was it.]

But I think I might be. Because whoever has earned your love is a very lucky man. Maybe one day they will realize it.

And hopefully it will not be too late.

[ That would be welcome.

That would be terrible.

Madison's barely daring to breathe, but at least that's coming a little easier now. He is trembling, just a little, and he's sure that seems ridiculous, a large man like himself, trembling like a child afraid of a storm - a storm that goes on, and on, and on... ]

I don't know if I'm more terrified by the thought that he never will... or by the thought that he will.

The world is quiet here.

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