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It was hot in the room, and Jefferson just really wanted to leave, but first he needed to get Hamilton to agree that suspending congress for a few weeks at the end of the summer was in everyone’s best interest.
“We do the peoples’ work, they depend on us! We cannot halt the government’s procedures for any longer than a few days.”
“The state governments will be operating during that time, Hamilton, and members of the government who do not live in your precious New York deserve to see their families.”
“We all make sacrifices for this nation,” Hamilton argued back, but it seemed lackluster. The young man was blinking rapidly, as if he was having trouble seeing.
“Your family lives in New York,” Thomas pointed out smugly, “you are asking others to give up more than you yourself have.”
Rage took over Hamilton’s face, and the man leapt to his feet. Thomas waited for the diatribe, but it never came. Instead, Hamilton’s face blanched, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the floor. Washington was the first one by Hamilton’s side, the rest of the cabinet seemingly frozen in shock.
“Alexander,” the President said, and there was worry evident on his face. The man looked up. “Someone get me some water. Now!”
Several people scurried from the room, happy to leave the suddenly uncomfortable atmosphere. Thomas went to crouch next to Hamilton, fingers feeling for a pulse in the man’s neck. It was there, but thready, and the skin burned as if on fire.
“Why is he here if he’s this ill?”
“As much as you two spit at each other, neither of you knows the other. Not really.” Washington had Hamilton’s head propped up in his lap and was stroking his hair, as one might do to one’s child. “During the war, Alexander often worked through illnesses, sometimes to the point of collapse. Every summer a fever takes him, and each summer it seems to get more serious.”
“He does not look ill,” Thomas pointed out, warily watching Washington’s expression. He did not want to offend the man.
“Amazing what a little powder applied to the face will do,” Washington said drily. An aide entered the now otherwise-empty room with a bowl of water and a cloth, and set it down beside the three men.
“My thanks,” Washington said absently. “If you would have a carriage readied, Mr. Jefferson and myself will escort him home.”
. . . Excuse him? “I did not offer-”
“And I am not asking,” Washington snapped. “If he cannot walk under his own power, then he will need to be carried, and I am not as strong in the arms as I once was. His family is upstate for the Summer, and I will not have him alone during this. I would bring him to my home, but I am afraid the children are all about the place, and that is no environment for Mr. Hamilton to recover in. Your family is still in Virginia, your house is quiet. A good place for a convalescent.”
And Jefferson knew better than to deny the President anything; he was the father of their fledgling country, and a great man. Still . . . “do you think him contagious, Sir?”
Washington shook his head. “His summer fevers have never been catching,” he dismissed, “we shall all be fine. I was informed that it is most likely the result of a severe illness Alexander suffered as a child.”
He was wiping Hamilton’s brow with water from the cloth as he said this, and, true to his earlier words, powder came away from the man’s face, revealing him to be flushed with fever. “He should wake soon enough,” Washington said after a moment. “He stood too quickly for his condition to allow, but he ought to come around soon.”
It was odd, Thomas thought, how peaceful Hamilton looked, even as ill as he was. His brow was smooth, and for a moment, without the frenetic energy that he always seemed to be working on, Thomas was made aware of how young the other man was. Over ten years his junior.
“Not that I will take sides in your squabbles with Hamilton,” Washington said, “but I know of few people who have given as much of themselves to this country as Alexander has. He nearly died during the war too many times to count. He took bullets for this country, nearly drowned for this country, starved for this country, and his breathing has stopped for this country.” There was silence for a moment, as if Washington was waiting for his words to sink in. No need. They had secured themselves in Thomas’ mind like a carpenter’s nails into oak. “No one living can say that they have sacrificed more for America.”
“I understand, Mr. President,” Thomas said quietly.
“I am not belittling the danger you yourself were in during the war, your name was on the Declaration of Independence, you would have been hung with the rest of us if the war had been lost. But there is a difference between a theoretical danger and one right in front of you. I have seen many brave men quail in the face of gunfire.”
“Sir?” The voice was weak and unsure, but caught both of their attention as if it had been booming.
“How are you feeling Alexander.” The question was not a question, though it had been framed as such. Rather, it sounded like a father chastising a child.
“I will be fine, just give me a day’s rest.” Hamilton still hadn’t opened his eyes.
“That wasn’t the right answer, son. You have quite the fever.”
“Not’cha son,” Hamilton slurred, but otherwise did not contradict the man.
The door opened, the aide from before poking his head through. “I have a carriage ready and waiting outside the side door here Mr. President, Mr. Secretary,” he said, and bowed out.
“Come on then Hamilton,” Thomas said, getting to his feet. “You’ll be staying with me, since apparently we cannot trust you to look after yourself.”
There was silence for a moment, then: “Jefferson?” Hamilton’s eyes were open, but his brow was crinkled in confusion.
“Uh, yes, it’s me?”
“You . . . you hate me?” He’s pretty sure it was supposed to be a statement, but it came out sounding rather like a question.
“Hate’s a bit strong, I should think,” he said, mindful of the fact that Washington was right there, and saw Hamilton as something like a child. Nepotism indeed. Something to discuss with Madison. Washington helped Hamilton to stand, and Thomas couldn’t help but notice that most of the younger man’s weight was leaned into the President.
“If you would escort Mr. Hamilton to the carriage, Mr. Jefferson, I will call on my personal doctor to make a visit to your residence.”
“Yes sir,” Thomas said, even as Hamilton protested that he would be fine, he did not need a doctor.
“And I’d prefer Ned anyway,” the boy muttered as Thomas tucked his arm around his waist.
“Doctor Ned Stevens, he and Alexander grew up together,” Washington said in response to Thomas’ querying look. “He treated him during the yellow fever pandemic in Philadelphia.”
Hamilton was shivering, swaying at Thomas’ side. It seemed unlikely that he would be able to walk all the way to the carriage. “Can I carry you to the carriage?”
“Absolutely not!” Hamilton protested, but his voice was weak.
“Be good for Mr. Jefferson, Alexander,” Washington said, clasping a strong hand to Hamilton’s shoulder. “And don’t be stubborn. I will try to find Doctor Stevens for you if you can even remotely try to be a good patient.”
Then there was silence, the two men glaring at each other, and Thomas had the uncomfortable feeling that there was a conversation going on that went far above his head.
“Fine,” Hamilton acquiesced finally, “but only because I am tired.”
“You’re absolutely exhausted Alexander. You’re lucky I don’t pen your wife, which I will do if your condition worsens.”
“Yes Sir,” Hamilton said, and leaned even more heavily against Thomas’ side.
“Take care of him,” Washington said, and swept from the room, stride strong and purposeful.
“Well-” Thomas began, but:
“Don’t draw this out any more than it has to be, please,” Hamilton cut him off. “Just get it over with.” Thomas shrugged, and, putting one arm behind Hamilton’s knees and the other around his back, pulled the short man into his arms.
He seemed much too light, really, Thomas thought as he made his way to the side door out of the Capitol building. It was no wonder he had fainted, if he hadn’t been eating properly on top of having a fever. Hamilton’s forehead burned against his neck, and Jefferson wondered that the man could shiver as violently as he was while such heat radiated off of him.
Letting Hamilton back onto his own feet to climb into the carriage, Thomas gave the driver quick directions to his residence before clambering in himself and shutting the door.
“You don’t actually have to look after me you know,” Hamilton said from where he was curled into a corner. “I’d be alright at my house, I’ve been through this before, it’s nothing serious.”
“The President would beg to differ,” Thomas said, “and besides, as much as I disagree with many of your ideas, I do know that you are brilliant. It’s what makes you such a fierce opponent. Our country still needs you.”
“Hm.”
“And besides,” Thomas continued, almost to himself, “I’d be quite put-out if you were to die. I think I’ve grown fond of you.”
But when he looked up to Hamilton again, the man appeared to have fallen back into oblivion.