Work Text:
As he slowly regained consciousness, Jefferson head throbbed with a dull ache. Thomas winced, the hurting sensation returned to his broken arm. He hissed in pain. Blinking his eyes open, he was greeted by the sight of Jemmy, his loyal companion, seated beside him, engrossed in a book. Jemmy's gaze lifted from the pages, meeting Jefferson's with a mixture of surprise and relief. His eyebrows shot up, nearly reaching his hairline, as he exclaimed, "Thomas, you're finally awake!"
If Thomas didn’t have an aching head already, he surely would have rolled his eyes. His arm throbbed, but he chose to ignore it for the moment. “Obviously,” He looked at his friend who’s fatigue he could see in his eyes. “Damn, Jemmy, how long have you been sitting there?”
Madison just shrugged, “A couple of hours. You fainted when we got into the carriage. Thankfully, you were still unconscious when they fixed your arm. You had a concussion as well, Thomas, though not as bad as Hamilton’s own.”
Thomas's brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced down at his left arm, encased in a sturdy wooden splint. The soft touch of cotton nestled between the board and his skin provided a comforting cushion, ensuring he wouldn't experience any unnecessary discomfort. To keep his broken limb secure, it had been gently cradled in a supportive white sling. He slid his fingers to the white bandages wound around his head. “So…. are you finally going to tell me what the hell happened?”
“The building was bombed.” James Madison said, then lowering his tone added, “Apparently, they were targeting the Federalists. There was a note found outside the building.”
He remembered the explosion, being pinned by Hamilton’s desk. Arguing with the Treasury Secretary about the letter from Lafayette moments before. Then trying to keep the man awake after he was concussed by falling debris. “And we still ended up being caught up in it.”
Jemmy added distractedly, “We were lucky that it was only the four of us still remaining in the building. Which means they were targeting Washington too.”
Jefferson said with pursed lips. Wait. Hamilton? “What…. happened with Hamilton?”
At that moment, the double doors opened, and two orderlies, a nurse and a doctor came through with a sight that Jefferson never thought he wanted to see. Alexander lay unconscious on a gurney that was steered towards a bed. His head wrapped in bandages, though the leg was splint very much like his own. The man looked pale. Had it not been for his chest rising and falling, Thomas was sure that he would look dead. They quickly and professionally got the Treasury Secretary settled in the bed across from his own on the other side of the room. Beside him was his wife; a delicate silhouette, who was clutching her husband's hand with unwavering devotion. Leaning in, she tenderly caressed Alexander’s cheek, her love and concern radiating from every touch. Part of Thomas longed and missed the love and devotion that Hamilton’s wife gave, and he averted his eyes. The doctor said a few conciliatory words before catching eyes with Jefferson and began to walk over to his side of the room.
“Mr. Jefferson, it’s good to see you awake, sir.” The doctor came to his side and took his wrist to check his pulse. “I’m Doctor Raymond.” He turned, nodding to the other Virginian “Mr. Madison.”
“How bad am I, Doctor?” Jefferson asked quietly, though he didn’t take his eyes off the prone figure of Alexander Hamilton. James Madison closed his book to listen.
“You’ve got a few broken bones in your arm, Mr. Jefferson and you’ve dislocated your shoulder and collarbone. You’ll be two weeks recovering here at the hospital before you can finish your recovery at home. And you have a minor concussion.”
Thomas grimaced at the thought of being stuck here for two weeks with his rival.
Voice lowered even more, he added “And Hamilton?”
Doctor Raymond looked over to the pair, before meeting his eyes. “His leg is broken, and he has a concussion. The desk landed on his back and we do not know whether or not he’s paralyzed. We won’t know until Mr. Hamilton wakes up. But….” There was a flash of regret that traced across his face. “There’s no movement when we tested for sensation in his feet.”
Jefferson's eyes snapped open. "Are you sure?" he exclaimed quietly, disbelief etched across his face. He couldn't help but think that things could have been worse, Hamilton could have lost his life, leaving his wife and children without a father and financial support. Thomas supposed it was a blessing that he was only paralyzed.
“Back to the question at hand. How are you feeling, Mr. Jefferson?” His tone was serious. Doctor Raymond had begun to prod Thomas’ shoulder and arm. He felt his heart pounding in time with the pain that shot up and down his arm at the prodding, his breath coming in short gasps. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to will the pain away.
“My arm does hurt.” He admitted lamely. It was true. The slight fire that was running up his right side had turned into a blaze. He had squeezed his nails into the flesh of his palm.
“Then I will give you a tincture of laudanum to ease it.” He pulled the vial from his pocket, then filling a glass from the pitcher next to the bed, poured a small tincture into a spoon before handing it to him. When Thomas had downed the bitter medicine and the glass’ contents, the medicine’s powerful grip began to take hold; the pain in his shoulder and arm lessened, and his eyelids began to droop. “We’ll replace the bandages tomorrow morning. For now, get some sleep.”
Glancing around, the Secretary of State could see that they were the only two in this room. No doubt, given their status as government officials (and money), it had been arranged that these quarters were sequestered away from the public areas for security and privacy while the men recovered. He glanced out the far windows and saw the sky was ablaze with hues of fiery orange and golden yellow, signaling the beginning of a mesmerizing sunset. He had not even heard the doctor take his leave saying that he would return later to check on him.
Thomas watched Hamilton’s wife kiss his brow and rose, brushing her hand against his face once more before moving from his bedside.
“Mrs. Hamilton.” Jefferson called gently so as just to get her attention. Her expression was one of surprise and relief.
“Mr. Jefferson, I’m glad to see you awake. I am sorry that you’ve been so seriously injured. Thank you for being at my husband’s side during the…...incident.”
Thomas made a small gesture as if to brush it aside. “I’m...fine.” He lifted his arm to show that it was a minor injury and winced. “I was only in his office at that moment as we were having a discussion about...well, political events in France.”
Eliza Hamilton seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded. “Still, I thank you for being with him.” She glanced over to her husband a wiped away a tear, “I couldn’t imagine him being alone when…” Eliza bit her lip and tried not to cry.
“He’ll be alright, Mrs. Hamilton.” He tried to re-assure her with one of his winning smiles. “I don’t think even being this injured will hamper your husband from doing great things.” Was that the laudanum talking? Why was he praising Alexander Hamilton? The man got on his very last nerve most days. Shooting barbs at one another was a way to pass the time during long meetings and to rile up the younger man. Still, he didn't want to make an enemy of both Hamiltons, so he tried to make his expression pleasant.
Her smiled widened, “Thank you, Mr. Jefferson. And please do take care, your arm will need some time to heal.”
“I’ll be alright, Mrs. Hamilton.” He raised his arm again and winced. “It looks as though we’ll be keeping each other’s company for a few weeks. We’ll keep an eye on him for you tonight.’
She nodded graciously. “There are guards posted outside the door, so no one who are not your doctor or nurses will be allowed in. Sleep well, Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Madison. I’ll be returning tomorrow. Goodnight.”
When she had exited the empty hospital room, Thomas glanced over to his friend. “You should go get some sleep too, Jemmy. You’ve been here all day without a break and I’m sure your wife is expecting you.” He nodded to the doors. “Like she said, we have guards, and I can keep an eye on Hamilton should he wake.”
Jemmy looked out the window of the second floor of the hospital taking a moment to decide, then nodded. “Alright Thomas. I’ll be back in the morning. Do me a favor and listen to the doctors? Get some rest.”
“Jefferson chuckled, “Hey, I don't work like a maniac like Hamilton. I care about my beauty sleep.” Changing the subject he added. “Could you be so kind as to fetch me a few books? Scratch that, make it a whole trove of books. I’m going to need something to distract me from Hamilton’s incessant talking when he wakes.”
James Madison smiled then nodded. “"Consider it done, Thomas," he replied, his voice filled with unwavering loyalty towards his friend.
Jemmy raised a hand as a goodbye. "Rest well, my friend. Until tomorrow."
a/n: here's a picture of Pennsylvania State Hospital if you were wondering:
