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Alexander awoke, slightly more than a little confused at his surroundings. It took his mind a moment to realize that he was at Mount Vernon. Lifting himself from his pillows, Alexander placed a hand on his sore throat. All the water he took in the other day was still affecting him today. Sighing, he reached to the bedside table for a water glass and pitcher. He downed the contents in a few gulps, though it didn’t alleviate the fire in his throat and his nose was stuffy. Alexander grumbled as he dressed for the day, watching the sun beginning to rise. He’d admit that the hills surrounding the house were very charming.
There was a knock at the door and a voice from the other side. “Sir?”
“Come in, please.”
A dark-skinned man entered, holding a basin of hot water and a cloth that he placed on a basin stand. “Good morning, sir.” The man bowed his head in deference. “Breakfast is in a quarter hour.”
Very good, James. Thank you.” He gave him a kind nod. The servant seemed flustered but smiled.
When the man left, Alexander stood for a moment feeling like his head was full of cotton. He wondered how he was going to get through the day.
~*~
Alexander appeared at the breakfast table where Washington was already waiting. He nodded to the President. “Good Morning, your Excellency.”
A smile tugged at Washington’s face. “Son-Alexander, you don’t have to be so formal while in my house.”
He gave an appreciative smile, “Yes, sir” that made George Washington just shake his head.
They were silent for a moment, Alexander glancing over to the empty chair between himself and the President. “Where is Jefferson? It’s not like him to be-”
Jefferson’s footfalls cut him off. The Secretary of State seemed to be agitated. His quick steps soon turned to their normal stride as he entered the dining room. The sight of him made Alexander bewildered. The man was elegantly dressed in one of his dreadful magenta outfits, but his face was a shade paler than it’s normal pallor, and in the silence, both mean could hear the raspy wheeze that followed a cough. He tried to paste a confident smile on his face as he took his seat. “Forgive me for being late, sir. I couldn’t sleep last night and therefore overslept this morning.”
“Mr. Jefferson, good morning.” Washington replied pleasantly. “You need not have worried, breakfast has yet to be served.“ He shot a worried glance at him, “Though you look as though you’re not feeling well, young man.”
“I’m fine, sir, just out of sorts after….”Thomas cut himself off. Alexander nearly shuddered at the memory.
“Very well, Thomas. But please let me know if you are feeling ill. I can’t have my Secretary of State unwell.” Washington replied.
Breakfast was soon served. While they ate, Washington suggested that they go riding on the grounds now that the sun was shining. To Alexander’s surprise, Thomas seemed reluctant this time, though he still agreed.
Alexander wasn’t feeling his best either. His head ached and his throat was still on fire, but he didn’t want to spoil the day’s activities. He masked a cough into his handkerchief with a feigned clearing of his throat. Was it cold in here, or was it just him?
After breakfast, the trio took to their horses and rode out into the large fields that surrounded Mount Vernon. The day was cool, but pleasant with blue skies radiating their view of above. In the distance were meadows as far as the eyes could see. The fresh air seemed to revive him somewhat, though tiredness tugged at him.
Both Secretaries were shown the garden where Martha liked to keep herself busy attending to. There were radiating paths that all converged on a well, each with a row that had various flowers such as roses and marigolds. Around this large space were pine fences draped in grapevines.
“These are some of the grapes I grow to make my own wine.” George gestured to the vines with a look of pride.
Alexander looked up, “Ah, so that’s where that wonderful wine we drank last night came from!”
Thomas Jefferson was silent. Surely he would have said something pithy like how Washington had explained that the first night at the dinner table.” He stood stiffly, as though he were trying to stand up straight.
“Thomas?” Washington gave an inquiring look to the younger man.
Jefferson’s knees buckled at that moment, a swift hand by Washington kept the fellow Virginian from hitting his head on the paving stones. The President pressed a hand to the Secretary’s forehead, his eyebrows furrowed. “He has a fever.”
Alexander sneezed, a shiver running down him.
Washington sighed with measured exasperation. “Not you too, Alexander.”
Hamilton looked slightly abashed. “I’m sorry sir.”
“Do you think you can ride back and hold onto the other horse’s bridle?”
Hamilton nodded. Seeing that his right-hand man was capable, Washington picked up Jefferson bridal style (oh he would be so humiliated if he were awake, Hamilton thought) and carried him to his own horse, handing over the slunk form of Jefferson to him for a moment before he mounted it, helping the President lift Thomas in front of him on the saddle. Hamilton mounted his own horse and took the bridle of the empty saddle, guiding it back to the house while Washington galloped ahead.
His head hurt and his cough was harsh after handing over the horses to the stable boy with an apologetic look before making his way to the house. Dizzily, he stepped in to be greeted with Washington waiting. “Are you alright, son?”
The Treasury Secretary nodded, then looked slightly embarrassed at the hard look his commander gave him. “No sir, but I think it’s just a cold from being in the water and the rain. I didn’t get as much water in my system because I was actively swimming.”
Washington seemed to nod at this. “Very well, I’ll have you looked over when the doctor arrives.” He put a hand to his shoulder, “Go and rest, Alexander. You need it. And when you’re both better, we’re going to have a discussion about lying to the President of the United States.” There was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes despite the stern tone.
~*~
Alexander was indeed diagnosed with a cold and was ordered to have bed rest and broth for a few days. The prognosis for Jefferson was much more dire. Washington had said that Jefferson was suffering with inflamed lungs due to the water he had inhaled in their impromptu swim in the Potomac River. Whether he survived would be up to the ill man and providence.
When he was feeling better, Hamilton knocked softly on Jefferson’s door, surprised to hear the deep voice of Washington call “Come!”
He stepped in to see Washington sitting next to Jefferson’s bed. The ill man was breathing harshly, his skin soaked with feverish sweat. He looked slightly worse than when he collapsed. Alexander saw an iron tub in a corner of the room, a towel draped over it.
Alexander looked from the prone man in the bed to Washington. “How is he, sir?”
President Washington looked worn as his shoulders slumped. He tried to paste a smile on his face at his right-hand man but couldn’t muster one. “Improving, but still very ill.”
Alexander stepped closer to see that Jefferson’s chest was bare, covered in towels, and smelling of brandy. His arms marked by the surgeon’s knife where he was bled. As much as Hamilton didn’t like the man, Alexander couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Hamilton pulled a chair from a corner and sat next to Washington, both silently praying for Thomas’ return to health.
~*~
It had taken days for Jefferson to be declared out of danger. Washington insisted on keeping vigil while Alexander’s health improved. It was similar to a parent watching their child recover from an illness, staying by their side and offering support and comfort throughout the process. He wondered how many times he’d stayed at the bedside of his children when they were ill, and how many times he was pulled away due to work.
One morning, he was re-writing some of the papers lost due to the carriage accident. A weak knock at the door made him lift his head as called for them to come in, thinking that it was one of the servants, but found that it was the tall form of Thomas Jefferson, still looking ghastly pale and slouching which was unlike the rather arrogant man, Thomas even stumbled in.
“Jefferson?” Hamilton greeted. “Are you supposed to be out of bed yet?”
The Secretary of State shook his head and stumbled slightly. Alexander shot up and quickly guided his rival to a chair. “Take it easy,” He muttered though the words were slightly worried.
There was silence between them before Jefferson spoke with a gravelly tone. ‘I don’t remember, what happened to me?”
Hamilton’s eyes shot up with surprise. “You don’t..?”
The oddly imploring look of furrowed eyebrows and a lost expression made Alexander sigh. “Your lungs were inflamed from all the water you took in when...when the carriage crashed. You were ill for some days and the doctor worried you wouldn’t recover. How...how are you feeling now?”
“Better,” Thomas said hoarsely, though I still feel terrible.” he tried to laugh it off, but it became a harsh cough. “Hamilton, I was thinking…. well, you saved my life.”
Alexander replied, "It's just one of those things that had to be done."
Thomas nodded, and Hamilton knew he was grateful. “I think…. perhaps we should try to be civil to one another from now on. It does nothing to harangue one another purely for the entertainment of the government officials. We gain nothing towards ourselves or our ideas.”
Alexander’s eyebrows shot up. This was something new, and he partially wondered if Jefferson truly meant it. He studied his rival's face closely, looking for any signs of deception. Jefferson's expression remained unchanged, and Alexander knew that he meant what he said. Still, it was a start. He extended his hand, which Jefferson took and shook.
The two men parted, and Alexander was hopeful that this marked the beginning of a new era of peace between the two rivals.