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Chapter Text

The "Fishwife" had introduced them to the radio on their first day. His friends knew he was horribly ill from the time travel. Flashing lights and fast movements always made him sick.
The Fishwife made the radio play hymns. It was a woman who was singing. He recalled his wife at home, sitting on the porch and looking out on the lawn. He hadn't heard the songs she was singing before, but that might just have been his memory. She was so pretty, and her voice like a choir of angels. God is good.
"Dolley?"
"No." Benjamin said. "It's called a radio. Ray-dee-oh."
"Ray-dee-oh."
"Yes, like that."

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The next day The Fishwife showed them telephones. He picked up one little box and spoke to another person with another box from many miles away! James liked it, actually. Even if he was very cautious. After everyone had taken a turn, they let James have a whack at it.

          He took his sweet time with it. When he felt the plastic in his hand, an odd thought came to mind. A woman will pick up.

          How do I know?

          I don't know, but she will.

          He let it go. With the upmost care, he pressed a button. It made a noise, which frightened him. He trekked on. Another button, and another. He took a beat between buttons so he could learn how much pressure had to be applied for each one to work. After pressing ten buttons, his friends urged him to put it to his ear. He did as they said. A small bell toned. How did they put such a small bell in here?

          The bell stopped and a lady answered. I knew it.

          "Hello, this is the Gap, how may we help you?"

          The gap? Why is this woman in a gap? What is this gap between? Is she trapped and in need of assistance?

          "Hello?"

          "Yes, hello."

          He remembered his wife again. He remembered meeting her at a ball in Philadelphia. Well, seeing her there. He hadn't met her yet. But the sight of her was enough to know he loved her. She was graceful. A tall woman with a soft face. Dark hair and blue eyes. He grabbed Aaron Burr's arm as hard as he could and pulled him in.

          "James, what is it?"

          "Do you see her?"

          "Yes, Dolley Todd."

          "She has a husband then?'

          "No. Widowed."

          "You absolutely must introduce me."

          Aaron laughed. "It wouldn't work. She is a very young Quaker woman."

          "Burr, PLEASE! You HAVE to!"

          "Fine, if you insist."

          Walking up to her was a blur. He must have not blinked for a moment, because despite his poor memory, he still remembered each detail on her face. Bright eyes. A small nose and lips that must have been sculpted by God himself. Curly locks of hair. So, so much taller than him. His friends would feel very emasculated if their wives were taller than them, but who cares when she is so good a match!

          "Hello Ms. Todd, would you like to meet my friend James Madison?"

          She looked at him. Her expression flooded with joy. It was as if she too had made the decision that they must have each other. "Yes, hello."

          Back to earth. Jefferson tugged at his frockcoat. "You're on the phone! Say something James!"

          Huh? What's that?

          "Hello??" The woman said.

          Oh, Dolley? Is that Dolley?

          "Sweatheart, is that you?"

          Hamilton sighed out frustration. "No, Dolley is not here!"

          Not here? She's talking to me right now on the ph--

          Click. She hung up.

          "Dolley?"

          Benjamin held his shoulder and took the phone from his hand. "It wasn't Dolley."

          James frowned. "I have become a foreigner in a foreign land."

Chapter Text

          They guided him into a busy room. It was filled with frumpy looking men and women showing much more skin than he'd seen on someone who wasn't his wife. He took off his hat. Alexander will have intercourse with one of these women.

          I'm sure. He is very promiscuous.

         I see you're believing me all of a sudden.

         It's not like you've ever been wrong.

          He grinned to himself. Benjamin noticed and took it as a good sign. "Do you like to be out of the house?"

          James bowed his head.

          "Well, accompany me and you will have an excellent time."

          He did as he said. Franklin and Jefferson made a b line to the liquor. Washington will drink too much tonight.

          How so?

          They have a massive tank of beer which they will hold him over.

          A girl stood in front of James. She had dark brown curls, gorgeous eyes, a small nose and pretty lips. Dolley?

          "What are you dressed as?"

          Dolley, I cannot believe it's you! I haven't a clue how we will return to Virginia, but I'm not concerned with you at my side. I pray you don't leave my sight again, as my heart grows cold and my body frail when I'm without your embrace.

          He took the girl's free hand. She blushed. "What's your name?"

          My name? You know my name! Is this a joke?

          Take a closer look James.

          What?

          Look at her face.

          He did as the voice said. Something had changed. Those weren't his wife's eyes. That wasn't her nose, her mouth, her face. Where were her rosy cheeks? Where was her sweet smile?

          He released the woman's hand. "You're not Dolley."

          "Who?"

          There was a great, great longing in his heart. He wished for the comfort of a familiar face.

Chapter Text

          Benjamin introduced James to the internet. It made him very afraid. The computer was bright with many flashing lights. His friend made the screen as dull as it could be for him. This made him warm up to the machine.

          "Look James! This is called Google. I push a letter here and it goes up here. Then I press the 'enter' button and it enters an entirely different part of the internet! Isn't that amazing?"

          He nodded.

          "Here sir, you go to a part of the internet now! Press buttons to spell something out that you want to see!" He slid it onto his left thigh, closer to James.

          He furrowed his brow in thought. After a moment, he put a finger down to the keyboard. D-O-L-L-E-Y-M-A-D-I-S-O-N

          He hit enter. Despite leaving out the necessary space between Y and M, he got the right results. "Here you are James! The blue words are a part of the internet that speak of your wife!" He clicked on it for him.

          The top of the page read Wikipedia. There was a painting of his wife on the screen. He smiled. Some of the words said she was "noted for her social skills". That was true. She had a way with words that he hadn't been so blessed with. She was the black to his white, the frosting to his cake, the Betsey Ross to his American flag.

          Benjamin looked at his lovestruck friend with fondness and pity. He wondered what he could do to find Dolley's portrait and bring it to James so he might be able to keep it in his bedroom.

          Then it dawned on him. Computers could turn pictures into more pictures using a "printer". He took back the machine and fiddled with it while Madison watched. Save image. Open. Control p.

          The printer that The Fishwife had given them made some very loud, mechanical noises. James whimpered in fear. But after a moment all was quiet again. Franklin rushed to it and lifted the paper it had produced. On it was a black and white print of Dolley Madison's painting. "Look! I put it from the internet onto paper for you!"

          James was confused. After some examination, he decided that it was, in fact, NOT witchcraft. The image was his wife. He took it happily and smiled wide.

          "You like it, do you? How about I find something to use to adhere it to your wall?"

          He nodded, still hugging the paper. They taped it on the wall beside his bed, and none of the other founding fathers needed to lull him to sleep again.

Chapter Text

          Jefferson woke him one morning, his face full of joy. "Madison! Madison, get up! The people are having a footrace on out street to for charity! You will love it, come!"

          James sat up and rubbed his eyes. Outside he heard the merriment. It gave him a headache. Nonetheless, he followed his friend. The other men crowded around the streetside window. When they saw Madison they made room for him. He was the shortest, so they let him stand in the front.

          A chalk line had been drawn on the pavement and people lined up on it. They wore very strange clothes; tight, short breeches and sleeveless shirts. They're in their undergarments! How embarrassing! He giggled. The others were happy that he was having fun.

          A man wearing a black and white striped shirt shot into the air. The sound was too weak to be a real gun. It confused the founding fathers. James didn't care. He was glad it wasn't loud.

          The people on the line took off in a sprint. The image of them flying off brought another memory to mind.

          It was Christmas Eve in the Madison house. Dolley was sitting on the couch and James laid across the rest of it so his head rested on her thigh like a pillow. She read her book aloud so he could enjoy it with her. The only sounds other than her voice were the crackling firewood and snow-filled wind.

          Dolley sat the book down. It was over. A happy ending. She took James's hand. "Wasn't that nice?"

          "Very. You're excellent at reading."

          "Thank you. I hate finishing books. I wish they could go on and on and on."

          He looked up at her face. "There's not enough paper in the world!"

          She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. "Yes, you're right. But I feel empty when they're over."

          "Don't be sad, my love! I have more books for you for Christmas!"

          "Well aren't you sweet! But still, he have an entire day to kill."

          "We could read Exodus."

          She brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I know how much you love that story. However I prefer to save it for when you're ill."

          He hummed in thought. What might entertain her?

          Dolley spoke up. "You know what I'd like to do? I'd like to footrace."

          "Footrace? It's so cold out!"

          "Then you won't get sweaty! Please James, it would be so much fun."

          He looked at her again. "Oh, how could I say no to you?"

          She smiled. They went to their room to put on warmer clothes. He watched Dolley undress all the way down to her shift so she could start again with a kerchief this time. She noticed him. "Like what you see?"

          "Indeed."

          She sighed, yet was grinning. "Will you help me lace up my corset?"

          He said nothing but went over to her and went to work. She had made that one herself. It was stiff from the reed in it. He respected his wife so much for all she did just to look nice. Personally, he didn't care if she wore one at all.

          Once all that was on, she began with the petticoats. She put on four. It was a lot, but that's what women did on cold days. "How can you run in so much fabric?"

          "How can you run with such short legs?" She teased him. He would have protested, but he was too enamored with the sight of her pinning a stomacher to her corset.

          That day she didn't bother with a cap. She just put on her cape and pulled it's hood over her hair. After donning a pair of mittens, she looked to her husband to see he wasn't even a bit dressed yet! "What have you been doing all this time?"

          He smiled cheekily, resting his elbows on the bed and propping his head up with his hands. "I saw something extraordinary and was distracted."

          She laughed and threw his hat at him. "Put on your things! The days are short in the winter!"

          Snickering, James threw on his apparel and great coat. They were ready for a race. There was a tremendous flurry of snow outside. The cold bit on all the skin they had that wasn't covered. He shivered. "Dear, it's so cold out!"

          "Once we're done I can warm you up inside." Dolley winked.

          He blushed and looked at his boots. His wife made herself busy drawing a line in the snow with her feet. "Alright, stand on the line. The first to make it to that tree wins."

          He took a place and readied himself. "Three. Two. One. GO!"

          The couple took off. Dolley had a wider stride but James had incredible pace. Snow slowed them, and it only got deeper the further they got from the home. Both laughed heartily and took glances at one another. They arrived at the tree at the same time.

          James labored to catch his breath while his wife spoke to him. "A tie! What a shame. I was looking forward to winning."

          "Is that true?" He panted and feigned despair. "Oh, poor me! It was a plot the whole time! A ruse to put me in my place!"

          She gathered up snow in her hands and threw it at him. He let out a surprised yelp on its impact. Quickly, he reciprocated the action. His snowball made her fall to the ground in mirth. James knelt down at her feet and she pulled him up on top of her. The two kissed and kissed. After what seemed like both many hours and a few seconds, James stopped. "Um, I think I'd like to go inside for this."

          "You're absolutely right." And the race back to their house was faster than the first.

          Jefferson yelled "VICTORY!". Back to reality. Cheering was erupting from the streets. A young woman had won the race. She was sweaty and very tired, but glowing with joy. Someone handed her a water bottle. The other runners were sad, but attempting grace in defeat. Jefferson continued. "I knew she'd win, I just knew it!"

          Calling him out, Hamilton said "Bullshit! You knew nothing!"

          Blah blah, something something. Their quarrelling fell into the background noise. Madison sat himself down on the couch and laid out across it. There was no crackling firewood. There was no snow-filled wind. There was no Dolley to read to him. Instead there were motor vehicles and loud voices and a number of things that wouldn't have been imagined up in his lifetime.

Chapter Text

          The Fishwife had tried to convince the founding fathers to wear the clothes of the era many times. Jeans, unfortunately, were not well met. The response was equally poor for hoodies, sneakers, and shorts. The day he abandoned them, he'd planned on introducing cotton t-shirts. The kind that don't double as underwear, which was what they were used to. But, knowing them, he held on to the receipts.

          James clearly remembered the morning he'd brought the tennis shoes into their house. They laced up, which none of his shoes did. His wife had a friend with laced boots. I should get her a pair of them for her birthday. It wasn't a new invention, and it seemed practical enough.

          Nonetheless, there would be no getting over their hideous design. They were made from rubber and "synthetic" leather. I've no idea what that's supposed to mean. George pointed out the holes in them. Those were apparently "supposed to be there". The purpose had something to do with temperature or speed or whatever.

          The Handler gave James a look of both frustration and desperation as he asked "Will you try them on Madison?"

          I will not. What's the use in new clothing when I have some already?

          The entire situation invoked yet another memory.

          Dolley had spent about a week tailoring a waistcoat she'd bought for James. It was a nice blue color to match his eyes. She knew it had to be shorter and smaller than how it came if it would fit her husband. Thankfully, she knew all his dimensions and could sew it up just right.

          When she had finished it, she tried to present it to him as gently as possible. He never did like new clothes for himself. Nor did he like wearing anything but black and dark-gray. She did everything in her power to butter him up; baked a cake, dusted the shelves, ridiculed his political rivals with him, and kissed him much more than usual. He was smiling wide when she showed him her work and he almost instantly frowned.

          "Oh, pretty please!"

          "No."

          "Come on! It would mean a lot to me."

          "Absolutely not."

          "You're so handsome and you don't even care to look the part!"

          "Now that-- Yes, that's true."

          "You won't try it on? Not even after your dearest wife labored so long to make a nice waistcoat for you?"

          "Please don't try to guilt me Dolley, you know this isn't me."

          "I may love you, but your constituents, on the other hand, aren't as charmed by just your brains."

          He sighed loudly. "Oh, don't try to blame politics on it. You just want me to wear more colors."

          Grinning, she slid closer to him on the couch. "Is it wrong for me to want to make my beautiful husband even more beautiful?"

           James groaned. She knew it was time to double down on the flattery. "I got it in the same color as your eyes. You know how much I love your eyes. And your hair and your nose and your lips--"

          "My hair is falling out, my nose is cut up, and my lips are cracked like broken glass. Your claims don't seem very valid, my dear."

          Sarcastically, she said "Oh, are they now?"

          "Yes, in fact."

          "Well, this is quite the problem."

          "Is it?"

          "Yes! Very much! I only married you for your looks, you know."

          He laughed. "Oh, this is what I love most out of my day."

          "Spending time with me."

          "Yes!"

          "I love spending time with you too. And I would absolutely love spending time with you--" She held up the shirt "in this."

          After a moment of examination, he caved in. "If you insist. But that's not a promise that I'll be happy enough to wear it around."

          "I'm fine with that." She put the garment in his hands. In a huff, he slumped into their bedroom. After a few minutes, he emerged in the new waistcoat. Dolley gasped.

          "It looks so good on you!"

          "Let me see a mirror."

`        She spun him around and pointed him at the one beside the dresser. As much as he tried to downplay it, he was impressed with the results a little color could bring about.

          "Oh James, won't you please wear it around? I love the way you look. I know you don't believe it but I really do adore your image. If you'd just trust me on it this then... Then..."

          "I like it."

          She paused, not believing her own ears. "You do?"

          "I do."

          "Ah! I knew I could do it!" Quickly, she wrapped him up in a tight embrace. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

          He hugged her back. "No, it's I who should be thanking you! This is very good work."

          "Only the best for you. Now take it off."

          "Oh, is that what you had planned all along?"

          "No! But I'm always open to convincing." She slipped back out the door and waited for him outside.

          "Well, will you?"

          Good Lord, anything but this guy again. James shook his head.

          "Of course not." He shoved the sneakers back into the plastic bag he brought them in. "Well, fine. Just don't come crying to me when your boots fall apart at the soles."

Chapter Text

          James didn't like that it was Winter when they arrived in Chicago. It was a dismal season. One Winter, he argued outside with a man for so long that he got a frostbite scar on his nose. It's not like he was a Spring kind of guy anyway. He wasn't bright or cheery. Perhaps that's the very reason he hated the season

          His friends worried for him, being such a frail man and all. Someone weighing roughly 100 pounds had no place in the cold. Every breeze chilled him to the bone. John Adams insisted on layering clothes on him before an outing. He'd even gone into town one evening after work and brought home a scarf. Only one. Just for James.

          Dolley used to notice it too. She would take his hands and say he was "cold as a corpse" and that she must "hold him until he's alive again". The joke never failed to get a laugh from him. Very few people in the world could make him so giddy. She sometimes woke him up by putting his hand to her face and pretending he had turned into stone overnight.

          "Oh Lord! My husband is freezing as a boulder! Turned into salt, like Lot's wife!"

          He sat up in bed. "I'm alive!"

          Dolley spun around, acting like she couldn't hear him. "How can I cure him? Is there a doctor alive who could help me?"

          Crossing his arms, he stood right behind her. "No need, because I'm right here!"

          "No no, think! What can you do to warm up a man so cold?" Slowly, she turned to face him. "I suppose... I could always... Hug him!"

          Quickly, she wrapped her arms around him and lifted him up. He giggled and flailed around. "Oh, you're such a trickster!"

          "Don't you have sympathy for a grieving wife?" She put on a fake pout.

          "You just want an excuse to cuddle me!"

          "Well, it seems you've figured out my master plan!"

          She dropped him on the bed. He pulled the sheets up to cover his face."If I can't see you, you can't see me!"

          Dolley stepped in place so he would think she'd left the room. It worked. He set the sheet down and looked lonesome. But much to his luck, she was right there. She kissed him and the two laughed.

          No antics like that existed in the new age. At least, not for him. Probably for another couple. Just not him.

Chapter Text

They just wanted to celebrate Ben's birthday. James wasn't so excited. Even though he was happy for him, he felt physically and mentally frail. He could have been set off at the drop of a hat. Or a glass.

          And it was that exactly. A waiter was trying to balance one too many dishes when he dropped a glass on the floor. It shattered, but all was well and he simply swept it up. James, however, had a flashback as a result.

          He recalled one summer night when he woke up to an empty bed. He knew because he could usually feel the warmth of Dolley beside him. Fumbling in the dark, he felt around the nightstand for the oil lamp. Once it was on, he put on his clothes and boots to look for her.

          The door was open a crack, which was the first sign something was wrong. Being from the city, she had the habit of wanting them locked most of the time. He was concerned and left the house. The night was dark and massive. The oil lamp barely made a dent in the inky expanse. However, he heard crashing and screaming out in the field. He pursued it.

          The closer he got, the clearer it became that it was dishes smashing. Eventually, whoever it was out there noticed him. "James? Is that you?"

          It was Dolley. Her voice was cracked, like she'd been crying. "Yes, it's me! It is you, right Dolley?"

          "Yeah." She sniffled. Finally the light touched her, and he could see the scene in all the gory details. Broken dishes lined the ground. She'd been throwing them against a tree. It seemed as though she had been pulling at her hair, because it was a halo of frizzy curls surrounding her head. Little cuts were on her fingers and palms.

          "What is this?" He asked.

          "I, um..." She sighed and her body loosened, resigned to having been caught. "I break dishes sometimes."

          He looked at the dimly lit pieces of china. "Why?"

          "It calms me."

          "From what?"

          "From some of the things I think."

          He felt his heart sink into his stomach. "Like what?"

          "Like... It doesn't matter."

          "Oh, please, your thoughts matter to me more than anything."

          She wiped away tears and a light streak of blood was left behind under her eye. "Just like, you know, how I disappoint people and no one really likes me that much and everyone I love will die someday. Just stupid stuff."

          He wanted to join in her crying. "Dolley, why didn't you tell me?"

          "It's no big deal James! Everyone thinks stuff like that sometimes."

          "How often, really?"

          "I don't know, maybe three or four times a day."

          At that point, he decided to let the issue rest. There was something else at hand. "You're bleeding."

          "Oh, that's not on purpose! I promise! It happens because when I break all the dishes I brought I go to break some of the shards too and they're sharp so..." She watched blood slither from her palm and down her wrist.

          "Please come home. Let me patch you up."

          "They're not deep."

          "But they'll hurt!"

          "I'll wear gloves! It's what I've been doing so far."

          He felt himself cry a bit too. "Please, I want you to come back inside. I need you there, not here."

          She hung her head. "Ok, let's go."

          The two returned in silence. Dolley took a seat at their dinner table while he searched for something to wrap the cuts with. He brought back some strips of white cloth, and as he wrapped them around her hands, they spoke.

          "How long have you been doing this?" James asked.

          "Since John Todd's death."

          "Oh... Why do you chose to break dishes of all things?"

          "Well, you know, if you break them then you can't break them."

          He squinted at her. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't follow."

          "When dishes are broken you can't break them anymore! Because they're broken! And I figure that since I value dishes so much I might as well break some every now and then to remind myself that I don't have to be so afraid of ruining everything.”

          "Were those ours?"

          "No, I bought those in the city a while ago. I keep a collection. I don't know if you noticed, but some of those pieces are old. That place is kind of a repeat dish-destruction venue for me."

          "Alright." He tied the cloth on her left hand and moved on to the right one. "May I ask about the screaming?"

          "Oh, that's just letting out frustration."

          "It's pretty scary."

          "Yeah, I know."

          "If you need to scream, you can scream to me."

          She scoffed, yet was smiling. "That's nice honey, but it doesn't really work like that. Love is a strong and healing force, but that doesn't mean it can patch my mind like you patch my hands."

          He frowned, and tied off the right one. She put the hand down and just looked at him. He sighed and said "Well, would you like to go back to bed?"

          "Sure."

          "I don't mind if you want to go break more dishes."

          "No, thank you though. I'm fine for now."

          They walked to their room together, undressed and got back under the covers. James wrapped his arms around her. "I know I can't change much, but maybe sometime we can break the dishes together. In case you get lonely out there at night."

          It was dark, but he knew she was grinning from the sound of her voice. "I'd like that."

          "I love you Dolley."

          "And I love you."

          However he was there in Chicago in the year 2012, watching a man sweep up broken glass and throw it away. All he could think about as he carried off the trashcan was how his wife's dear, scarred hands had rotted right off her skeleton in it's coffin. Around him people sang:

          "Happy Birthday Benjamin Franklin!"

          He politely smiled, but didn't sing along. He was in no mood.