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Alexander Hamilton had been up for two whole days, but miraculously, he managed to keep his mouth shut. Jefferson, engrossed in his book, glanced up only to find the Treasury Secretary giving him a piercing stare for the second time in as many minutes. "What?”
“Nothing,” The Treasury Secretary snapped, ducking his head down to continue writing on the paper in front of him, his eyes darting to others shoved to the right on his writing desk. To the left on the bedside table were bouquets of sunflowers from his wife. On Thomas' own side were a few bouquets of roses from well-wishers, including Dolley Madison herself.
“Aren’t you supposed to be resting or something?” Thomas inquired suddenly, “You’ve only been awake a few days. I’m sure your wife doesn’t want you to work constantly.” The glare returned and Thomas sneered. “You’re no super being, or politician. Our government can go on without you for some time.”
With a forceful thud, the pen crashed onto the desk, igniting a fierce blaze in Hamilton's eyes. “I’m not doing this for my enjoyment, Jefferson.” Hamilton huffed angrily, and loudly enough to echo through the mostly empty room. “Thanks to you and your band of loyalists, I am now compelled to present a comprehensive report on every single financial transaction within my department and have it submitted in a month. Because somehow, I am accused of government embezzlement, which by the way, I did not do.”
Jefferson folded his arms as best he could over his chest. “So you say.” He nodded to the report on the writing desk. “I guess we will discover the truth, won’t we?” The glare returned and Thomas shrugged. Then a frown graced his features. “Are you not concerned about the attempted act of bringing a building down upon you and the President?”
Hamilton pursed his lips, the anger returning. “Of course I am, Jefferson, I’m not as stupid as you think. Perhaps you missed the discussion we had earlier when he was here?” He stacked his papers and put them in a pile to the side of him.
Thomas remembered that meeting, of course. According to Washington, the note left labeled the Federalist as disloyal to both their people and allies. It could have been an American or one of the French who had done it, which made this all the more disconcerting; and the police had yet to find any clues that would lead to a culprit.
That’s when Hamilton suggested employing Hercules Mulligan as a spy to gather intelligence, as he believed Mulligan possessed exceptional skills in identifying traitors within the spy network. “If there’s anyone who can find the truth among spies, it’s him, Sir.” Hamilton had explained that his friend worked as a double agent during the war, and played a pivotal role in procuring invaluable intelligence on the movements and strategies of the British troops.
Thomas looked over to the walking stick that Jemmy had brought over among the other items he would need while in the hospital. Though his shoulder had been dislocated, it luckily was not his dominant arm which had been injured. If someone were to attack him, he’d at least have some sort of weapon to defend himself.
However, his thoughts soon turned to Hamilton, who was in a much worse condition. With a concussion, broken ribs and leg, and paralyzed, he was unable to move his body. Thomas let out a heavy sigh and pinched his nose as he contemplated the situation. Despite his hatred for Hamilton, if push came to shove, Thomas would undoubtedly step up to defend him. After all, he disliked Hamilton, but he didn’t actually want the man dead.
Jefferson's curiosity got the better of him as he asked, "Have you taken into account the well-being of your beloved wife and precious children?"
Alexander, his annoyance still lingering, retorted, "Certainly. Eliza is escorting the children to Albany and will promptly return to attend to my needs."
A hint of skepticism crossed Jefferson's face as he raised an eyebrow and gestured with a dismissive wave of his hand, "I must admit, I'm surprised she allows you to wander too far from her watchful eye, considering..."
Hamilton swiftly cut him off, his voice firm and resolute. Both men knew what he was speaking of. "Jefferson, enough. My personal life is not up for discussion with the likes of you. I kindly request that you refrain from offering your unsolicited opinions on the matter."
There was silence between them until he saw Alexander's hand slowly rose to his head, a pained expression crossing his face. He didn’t want to be polite to his rival, but Thomas had experienced excruciating headaches in the past and understood the agony all too well.
“Hamilton, you might want to have a nap. Believe me, it works wonders in alleviating a throbbing headache. Or shall I call for the nurse and have you brought something?”
The Treasury Secretary was silent for a moment again, only staring from him to the window. Then without another word, he packed up his writing desk and placed it on the bedside table before settling back and closing his eyes.
Jefferson let out a deep sigh. He was relieved to finally have a moment of peace without the constant sound of Hamilton's pen scratching against paper or the piercing glares that always seemed to accompany it.
He watched Hamilton’s slow breaths, then turned his attention back to his book. It had only been two days and Jefferson was acutely aware that the next fortnight would feel like an eternity.