Work Text:
Winter, 1776.
Alexander sat at his desk nearby his father, working on plans to attack Trenton. They had come up with the ingenious plan to cross the Delaware River, and make their attack the day after holiday when the red coats would be otherwise preoccupied or sleeping. They were going to set sail at night and approach by dawn.
But then, a cough.
Washington looked up and raised an eyebrow, but Alex was still focused on his work.
Another cough a few moments later. This one turned into more. This time, Washington stood from his desk and approached Alexander’s, placing a hand to his forehead. He was clammy. It wasn't uncommon for this time of year.
“You’ve earned a rest,” George said, trying to get his boy to go to bed. Alexander often became sick in the winter. Even as a lad in Virginia he often became ill due to the poor weather conditions compared to the island he grew up on. It was worse in New York.
“I’m still working on finalizing our plans for tonight,” Alexander protested. He didn’t seem in a rush to stop his writing. George knew it was going to be a challenge to get him back to his cot. “Everything needs to be perfect for when we set sail.”
“You are certainly not accompanying us in this condition.” George was not going to allow his very ill child to go with them. He was just a lad still, twenty-one years old. He needed to be in bed sleeping. “Now off to sleep with you.” He hauled Alexander up, who was still mumbling out complaints. He pointed off to the exit of their tent. “Go, son.”
“Don’t call me son,” Alex mumbled, but decided it would do more harm than good to not listen. He would simply get well enough and join them later in the night.
1768
“Alex!” George cried out as he felt his son fall off his horse. George had been trying to get him used to riding the horse, so Jackie was on his own while George had pulled Alex to share a horse with him. Alexander had a tight grip around George’s waist when they started, but that grip had loosened. George thought it was because Alex was getting more comfortable with the horse. It turned out he was just slipping.
George pulled his horse to a stop and hopped off of it while Jackie did the same and ran to get his mother and sister to see if they could help. He reached down to the boy who had fell unconscious and felt to see if anything was broken. Thankfully he was fine and breathing. It could have turned out much worse.
“Alex, my boy, wake up for me,” George cooed as he pulled Alexander into his arms. He felt his forehead and it was positively hot. He was sweating and clammy. Pale. He was ill. “Come now, we’re going to get you into a nice bath and into bed.”
“Is he alright?” Martha cried out as she ran over, the other children trailing behind her. As soon as Martha stopped, Patsy gripped onto her mother’s skirt worriedly.
“He’s ill,” George explained. “I’m going to bring him inside and take his temperature. Could you run him a cool bath? I’m suspecting we’ll need to bring down his body heat no matter what the thermometer says.” Martha nodded and brought Patsy back inside.
“Is he going to be okay?” Jackie asked as he followed George while the father held Alexander in his arms.
“He’ll be fine, my boy, I’m sure of it.” But George wasn’t sure of it. How many times had he seen illness that took away the people he loved? Too many. Even Patsy was ill, and they worried about her every day. But Patsy was still alive, and he hoped Alexander would be in the morning.
George brought Alexander into the kitchen where he sat him down on one of the chairs. He had Jackie watch him while he fetched the thermometer and to his surprise, Alex was awake when he got back.
“You’re awake,” George said in surprise to the boy, but he didn’t seem completely there. “I’m going to take your temperature, alright?”
“No,” Alexander croaked out. George was confused.
“He’s delirious,” Jackie explained. “He’s been talking about his mama since he opened his eyes.” George understood, but it did make him worry. Patsy had never been delirious due to illness.
“Come on, son, put this in your mouth before I have to put it somewhere we don’t want it,” George coaxed. Thankfully Alexander did eventually open his mouth and George was able to hold the thermometer in there. But the high temperature terrified him. “Now, a bath for you.”
Instead of trying to get his son to stand, George cradled Alexander in his arms and carried him up the stairs so that he could get him there faster. He doubted that the boy would have made it up the stairs in his condition. He still felt limp in George’s arms despite his eyes being open and his head trying to move, simply lolling about until George stilled him by cradling his head more carefully.
“Is he awake?” Martha asked, stepping away from the bathtub as George entered. She ushered Patsy out of the room while stepping in to help George undress Alexander.
“He’s delirious, according to Jackie,” George explained as they finished undressing him and placed him in the tub. He immediately began to shiver. “And he’s terribly warm.”
“You took his temperature?” Martha asked. George nodded. “My poor baby,” Martha cooed, pressing a kiss to Alexander’s forehead. Even if Alexander was not her birth child, she was as much her child as the others were. George felt the same about Jackie and Patsy.
“Do you think he’ll be alright?” George asked. This wasn’t like Patsy’s illness. He was at a loss and didn’t want to lose Alexander in the same way that he had lost his brother.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine, darling. We just need to watch him and take care of him,” Martha replied. “I’ll finish up here. You go on and relax. I can’t imagine how stressful this has been.” George nodded, about to stand and leave when Alexander suddenly jolted in the tub.
“Papa!” Alex cried out. George stopped. Alexander didn’t like to refer to him as his father. He didn’t like being known as George’s bastard, and when he walked alongside the Washington family in the street, he knew that’s all they saw him as. He was a creole bastard and the Washingtons were an esteemed family. Alex didn’t fit. “Don’t leave,” he whined out. Martha and George shared a look together.
“Of course I won’t leave you, little one.” George stepped forward, taking Martha’s place in bathing Alex. “I’ll take care of him. You can go check on Patsy and Jacky.” Martha nodded, the parents sharing a kiss before Martha whisked away to take care of their other babies.
George finished bathing Alex, noticing that his temperature had cooled some afterward. He wrapped him up, carrying him off to the bedroom where George noticed Martha had left a nightgown on the bed for him. George smiled, dressing Alex before laying him down in bed. There was also a basin of cool water with a fresh cloth, so George wet the cloth and laid it across Alex’s forehead. Alex let out a series of coughs.
“My poor boy, this isn’t very fun, is it?” George cooed as he ran his fingers through Alexander’s hair. It seemed his son could not win. “Do not worry, I will make sure you get better. Just rest.”
“Just rest,” George whispered as knelt beside Alexander’s sleeping form in the farmhouse, sighing as he felt that Alexander’s temperature was still poor. He had no doubt that Alex would catch up with the rest of the company at some point. And if he didn’t…well, it was for the best. George didn’t want Alexander in this war anyway.
He stepped outside, but Alexander had woken slightly to the sound of his father. He heard the boot-steps getting further away from him. He had to wake up and catch up with the others.
Alexander hauled himself out of bed, working quickly to get dressed. His body ached and he wanted to collapse simply by making sure he had his possessions. But he powered forward and caught up with the others as they boarded the boats.
“Alexander, what do you think you’re doing?” George asked when he saw Alex climb into George’s boat with other aides. “You’re still poorly off, you need to be resting.”
“I need to be with my company,” Alex argued. He wasn’t going to have this fight again. There was no way he would be sent back to that farmhouse to rest while the others risked their lives, including his own father. He needed to fight for his company. For his country.
George sighed and simply shrugged off his coat and draped it over Alexander’s shoulders. It was an icy night, and he was at least going to try and keep him warm and alive.
“Take it easy when we arrive, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”