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Jefferson felt the effects of the laudanum drag him down for several hours after his conversation with Jemmy. When he woke again, he blearily consulted his watch to find that it was eight in the evening. The discomfort in his shoulder and arm were letting themselves be known and he winced. Thomas looked out at the moon’s full face to distract himself and wondered if he should just go back to sleep. He had struggled for ten minutes to find a comfortable spot to sleep with his shoulder bound as it was, and his broken bones hurting at every moment.
Thomas Jefferson began to worry when Hamilton hadn’t seemed to have woken yet. Though he would not admit to this in the least. He knew concussion often times lead to comas, but the Treasury Secretary’s head injury didn’t seem that bad. So why was the younger man still unconscious? Not that it mattered; the longer the talkative Hamilton stayed under was a blessing to his ears.
He had finally begun to drift off to sleep when he heard a groan from the other side of the room. His eyes shot open when the groan repeated itself. What to do? Should he call for the doctor? How long would it take for a nurse to get here? Having no choice, Thomas shoved his covers aside and awkwardly threw his banyan over his shoulders. Really, to be seen in this state of undress was a disgrace but needs must. He padded quickly to the door. The guard who was surprised by this turned to the Secretary of State.
“Mr. Hamilton is waking; he needs his doctor or a nurse in here...please.” The last words were given in an afterthought.
One guard nodded to the other, who moved down the corridor. Thomas nodded in thanks and again faced a decision to leave Hamilton be until the medical personnel appeared or try to at least help the younger man understand he was not in danger.
I’m glad you were with him during the…. incident. Mrs. Hamilton had said to him. Sighing, he decided that in lieu of anyone else being present, he had to be the one to calm Hamilton again. Walking to the Treasury Secretary, Thomas said, “Hamilton?” Hesitantly, he put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You’re alright, you’re in the hospital.”
Alexander’s eyes flew open, unfocused and pupils wide. Turning his head and wincing, he shut them briefly to perhaps get his vision to focus. Finally in a hushed but gravelly voice, Hamilton whispered, “Jefferson?”
“Yea.” Thomas saw the Treasury Secretary wince as he tried to move his head and said, “Hamilton, don’t move, you’ve been injured.”
With a pained expression, Hamilton slowly slid a hand to his bandaged head just as he did upon waking. He managed to whisper, “Thomas, what happened?”
Jefferson’s eyebrows rose at the use of his Christian name but answered calmly. “Federal Hall was blown up on us...Alexander.”
The younger man’s brows furrowed. “I remember something hitting me.” Thomas nodded, encouraged. "You asking me questions... I was confused, but I was able to answer you."
Thomas almost seemed relieved that Hamilton’s memory of the event was still there. That was surely a good sign, right?
A doctor rushed in, followed by a nurse. “Mr. Jefferson, thank you for keeping our patient calm. If you need medical attention, I will speak with you in a few moments, if that’s alright?”
Thomas nodded, slightly annoyed at being dismissed as if he were a schoolboy but understood that the physician had a difficult task ahead. The privacy curtain was place around Hamilton’s bed, though the shadows of the three figures could be seen by the bright lantern light. He could see the medical staff poked and prodded the Treasury Secretary’s body and quietly murmured.
The doctor cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice calm and measured. "I fear the damage could be irreparable, Mr. Hamilton. You might be paralyzed from the waist down.”
“Paralyzed?" Hamilton' echoed, his voice trembling even in Thomas’ ears.
“Or it could be temporary...a nerve compression that will ease in time." the doctor added perfunctorily. “There are several methods we could try to reverse it. Bloodletting and purgatives could balance the humors…”
“No.” Thomas heard Hamilton cut the doctor off sharply, “I will not agree to any of that, sir.”
There was a silence that was very telling in Thomas’ mind. The doctor was surely trying to find a line of reason with his obstinate patient.
“Very well, Mr. Hamilton. We need only wait and see, then. Bed rest and immobilization will be key to your recovery. We will give you some laudanum so that you can sleep while your broken ribs are still healing.” The physician said.
Thomas could hear the sound of a spoon clinking against glass, a quiet slurp by Hamilton as he drank, then a command from the doctor for him to rest before he stepped out.
While the Secretary of State could not be sure, he could have sworn he heard Hamilton quietly sobbing on his side of the room.
*~*
Thomas had checkmated for the second time in half an hour, seemingly ignoring Alexander Hamilton. The Secretary of Treasury was staring disconsolately out the window, deep in thought, and not at the book in his hand. Putting it aside, Hamilton settled in the bed, slowly drifting to sleep.
“How did he take the news that he might be paralyzed?” James Madison asked quietly when they were sure that Hamilton was asleep.
Thomas shrugged. “I heard him sob a little, and he hasn’t said much sense then.”
James frowned, “You could be a little more compassionate, Thomas. You’d be devastated if you could never play your violin again.” He pointed to his friend’s broken arm. “I can’t imagine not being able to walk again.” He moved his knight on the chessboard. “I may fault him for his political beliefs, but he is of flesh and blood like you or I.”
Jefferson made his move on the chessboard, then sat back, watching the puffy cumulus clouds drift by in the window. Then he looked over at his friend, not meeting his eyes. Finally he said, “Sorry, Jemmy.”
“I’m not the one you should apologize to, Thomas.’ James replied, moving his rook on the board.
“Alright, Alright, I’ll…. talk to him when he wakes up. What should I say? ‘Hey, at least you’re not dead?’ ”
James shot him an unusually cold look. “You’re brilliant, Thomas. I’m sure you can think of something.”
Nearly an hour later, James had packed up the chess set and set it aside on a nearby table as he stood. “I best get home, Thomas. Please try to be polite to Hamilton when you speak with him.”
“Have a good day, Jemmy.” Thomas returned with a nod.
James smiled and gave a gentle pat to Thomas' uninjured shoulder before leaving. He waved goodbye as the door closed behind him. Thomas was left alone, lost in thought.
*~*
Thomas could hear Alexander stirring a few hours later, just as he was drifting into a doze. He lifted his head to find the Treasury Secretary putting a hand over his eyes to shield himself from the sunlight and perhaps the reality of his new situation.
Sighing loudly, he threw back his covers of his bed, padding back over to the other side of the room. Clearing his throat, Thomas began, “Hamilton?”
The Treasury Secretary’s eyes shifted to him, though his head remained still. The cold stare made him feel his asperity without saying a word.
He continued with some hesitation, “I know that our political differences have often strained our relationship, but I hope that I can put those aside for the moment and offer you my sympathy for your injury.”
“I don’t want your sympathy or your pity, Jefferson.” Alexander snarled. "I just want justice. I want the person who did this to me to face the consequences of their actions."
Jefferson sighed and nodded. "I understand, Hamilton. They're trying to find the people responsible. Just...." He took a deep breath and had to find the words. "You may not be permanently injured. I heard from the doctor, it could just be a compression. You will be able to return to your wife and children, Hamilton, be thankful for that. No matter what your state, you will still be able to love them, and they you.”
Thomas placed a hand on Hamilton's shoulder, but the younger man slapped it away. “Go away, Jefferson.” Alexander whispered while not looking at him.
Jefferson pursed his lips and retreated to his side of the hospital room and his bed. He had tried to comfort his politcal rival, but he knew there was nothing he could do. He watched as Alexander broke down into tears, hands in his face and shoulders shaking.
‘At least you’re alive.’ The words echoed in his mind. He felt a pang of jealousy. Hamilton had people who loved him. The Treasury Secretary had his beautiful and loving wife Eliza, and his friends who had been by his bedside until the sun went down. He had so many people who cared about him.
The only people that came to see him were Madison and Dolley. His beloved Polly was at school, and he didn’t want her to see him like this. His darling Patsy was married and had a family of her own in distant Virginia, and his wife had long gone to her eternal rest. He didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen once they discharged him from the hospital.
As he lay in his own bed, Thomas thought about the events that had led to this moment. The political rivalry between them had turned bitter and vicious, but seeing Hamilton in such a fragile state made him realize that there were more important things than politics. Tomorrow, he would write his daughters.
~*~
Thomas and Jemmy were playing a round of chess when they heard it; the small voices of children. They looked at each other perplexed when Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Must be Hamilton’s brood of brats.” He said under his breath.
“Be nice, Thomas.” Madison said in a lower tone. “They may be Hamilton’s kids, but they hopefully have their mother’s manners.” Jemmy replied, moving his Knight to capture Thomas’ own.
“It’s not their manners, it’s how many there are.” Thomas snarked, moving his queen out of harm's way.
The men on either side only looked up briefly to see Eliza Hamilton glide in with more children than when he had last seen them: one girl and a troop of boys trailing behind her. They all looked very much like their mother, though two perhaps had a darker shade of his hair and eye color. They varied in age from the eldest who was now an adolescent to the youngest who looked no more than a year in age clinging to his mother who was holding him.
Hamilton’s sullen expression seemed to disappear behind a mask of delight at seeing them.
“Papa!” Angelica jumped on her father’s cot and wrapped her arms around his own, her head resting on his shoulder. “Mama said you were hurt. I was so scared you were going to go away. Are you okay, papa?”
Eliza gently instructed her daughter to be gentle as “Your papa’s ribs are tender right now and you don’t want him to hurt, do you?”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m okay, my angels.” He said sweetly to his children, gracing them with a re-assuring smile. Then he turned his attention to his three eldest boys. “Phillip, Alex, James, are you keeping up with your studies?’ Hamilton asked with the sternness of a father.
The children nodded in unison, their heads bobbing up and down. “Yes, papa. I have begun to learn geometry.” Phillip said excitedly. “It’s quite easy!”
“I’ve learned a new piece of music, papa!” Angelica piped up.
Hamilton drew her closer and smiled, “Oh really? Which one?”
“Mozart’s Sonata number 16.” The girl looked to her mother, who nodded in confirmation that it was indeed the piece she was learning. “I hope I can play it for you when you come home!”
The Treasury Secretary’s eyebrows rose. “My goodness, Mozart! You’re becoming quite a little musician yourself, my darling! I'm proud of all of you." Hamilton said sincerely. He gave them each a gentle hug in an act of love.
James Madison glanced over to Thomas who seemed to be deep in thought, though the pained look of longing had since clouded his expression. It did not escape him that his friend missed his own daughters.
It was then that the second youngest boy noticed the two other men across the way. “Papa, who are they?” he pointed to Jefferson and Madison.
“That’s Mr. Jefferson with the broken arm, and Mr. Madison next to him.” Hamilton explained with a rueful smile. “I…. work with them alongside the President.”
“Children, pay your respects to the gentlemen.” Eliza instructed them. The boys bowed and the little girl curtsied prettily.
“Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Madison these are my children-” Alexander began, but Thomas interrupted.
“Let me see if I remember…Phillip your eldest, Angelica, Alex Jr. Your two youngest must be James and John, no?” At Eliza’s surprise and Alexander’s gob smacked expression, Thomas just shrugged. “I remember you told me their names and I guessed at which was which.” He chuckled. “I overheard you speaking of your other two recently.”
Alexander gave him a nod of thanks before he returned his attention back to his little ones. “I can’t wait for the day I can come back home to you all.” Hamilton stroked the hair of another of his children, the eldest of the five. He hugged them tightly, his voice breaking with emotion. “I love you so much.” He looked to his wife. “Eliza, can I speak with you alone, please?”
“Children, wait for me outside.” Eliza ordered. The cluster of small Hamiltons groaned but obeyed calling for him to get well soon and blowing kisses.
He watched his children depart; his expression full of sorrow. “Eliza, I think you should go up to Albany with the little ones until the danger passes.”
Eliza sounded indignant. “What? No, Alexander!”
Hamilton looked pleadingly at her, “My dear, please lower your voice. I simply want to protect you and the children from harm. I-I don’t want anything to happen to you or our precious ones.”
Eliza’s lips pressed together. “I am a soldier’s wife and daughter.” She finally said, “I will stand by you no matter the danger.”
“Eliza-” Alexander began but was cut off by her.
“I will take the children to Albany, but will return to tend to you. Do I make myself clear?”
Alexander looked abashed, not meeting his wife’s eyes. “Very. But, be careful on the roads, my dear. And hurry back.” He kissed her hand.
“I love you, Alexander.”
Hamilton smiled. “And I you, my love.” Alexander returned a smile as she departed.
Jefferson let a little smile grace his lips. Hamilton would tend to his duties as a husband, and as a father. When his wife returned, he would be there to welcome her back with open arms, grateful for her strength and resilience in the face of whatever challenges lay ahead. Perhaps what he had said had made an impact on the stubborn man after all.