Chapter Text
He moves his right hand slowly. He feels something… itchy on top of him. Thin, and itchy, he knows that much. His other hand doesn’t seem to move, and if it does he can’t feel it at all. He can’t see anything tangible, his eyes don’t want to open, he only sees blackness. Something must have happened, something must have gone wrong. He wasn’t lying in his bed, he was somewhere else, somewhere… foreign.
There’s a cold hand touching his arm, and he thinks that he flinches back slightly, but who knows. Hands touch his cheeks, his legs, all over his body at different times. He’s trying to will himself to open his eyes. The light that enters between his eyelids is blinding and he blinks wildly, raising one of his hands to cover his face in a hurry. He can feel the vibration in his throat as he lets out a groan of pain. He can feel the vibrations.
His eyes adjust slowly, yes, and he begins to make out blurry faces of women in white, a tall man in a blue coat who is mouthing words to him, and he can see his foster mother standing at the end of the bed looking somewhat relieved and irritated all at the same time. Whether it was because of his consciousness, or the presence of the doctors, he doesn’t know. Something, however, does become blaringly clear to him. They were speaking to him. They were saying words and seeming to ask questions of him, and Alex could hear none of what they were saying.
Alexander Hamilton could not hear a single word.
Their voices weren’t muffled, or too sloppy to understand, no. Alexander just… couldn't hear their words. Not only that, he couldn’t hear anything. It was all blank space. He can see his foster mom asking questions now, probably wondering why he won’t answer anything. She looks more disheveled. Alexander knows he shouldn’t be here, in this hospital bed with all these doctors paying close mind to him; he knows his foster mother will most likely be upset that he made them go here. He got sick, he was the problem. This would cost them thousands upon thousands of dollars that they didn’t have. As soon as he got out, she would sure let him have it.
At this moment in time, though, he can do nothing but lay there, watching the mouths of four people in the room move at rapid fire paces. They are all staring at him here and there, they are all calling for more people in the doorway. Suddenly as a nurse runs out of the room, the male doctor lowers himself to be eye level with Alexander, placing his big hand against Alex’s shoulder. It feel heavy, it feels uncomfortable. He does not pull away, or fight it, but he simply stares at the man’s face. He’s speaking, he’s saying words. He’s moving his lips more than he should when speaking to anybody else; Alexander still can’t hear anything.
He’s still on sensory overload when he starts to panic. Why can’t I hear anything? His breath picks up, and the doctor must notice because he stands to turn around and fumble with a few materials on the counter while a nurse takes his place at Alexander’s side. She’s saying things as well, probably trying to comfort him, but how can he tell? She seems stressed, she seems like she isn’t sure what to think of this young boy lying in front of her, not answering any of her questions.
His hands start shaking and he looks up at the ceiling, not standing to look at their pleading faces anymore. Tears are rolling down his cheeks now, he can feel the hot liquid leaving a trail on his skin. It burns, but he can’t help that either. He can merely lay still and let the doctors work. Surely they would be helping him soon, they would be getting him to hear again.
But they don’t. It feels like an eternity until a woman presses a marker into his hand. He forces himself to look at her again, and he makes sense of the scene laid out in front of him. Her hand is on his, a marker pressed firmly into his palm, a whiteboard is in his lap, and she’s nodding her head encouragingly. She points to his hand, then the whiteboard and nods again. People around the room are watching him, and he isn’t sure what to do say-or write.
He thinks for a moment and holds up his hand, shaking uneasily, then slowly writes out a simple four letter question.
Help?
The nurse reads it and holds her hand out, likely expecting the marker back. He gives it to her and she writes a short message on the board.
Can you hear my voice?
The question strikes him, and he stares back at her, waiting for her lips to move again. She smiles lightly and speaks, but he doesn’t hear it. He responds by shaking his head slowly. Her smile falters and she nods, immediately saying something to the doctor.
Alexander draws a shaky question mark on the board, and the nurse speaks to the doctor again. This time, it’s the doctor who takes the marker from him, and writes down a short note.
We think you may have hearing loss.
Alexander feels a pain in his chest, and his hands clench into tight fists; he blacks out not long
after.