Everyone had just about gone to bed after dinner, some more exhausted than others. However, our little night owl known as Alexander Hamilton himself stayed up, wandering about in the interior of the ship. The way the waves gently crashed against the firm wood of it, how the salty smell filled his nose, and how the sound of moving water and occasional seagulls disturbed the silent night was somehow all soothing to Alexander. He took a large breathe in and a heavy breathe out, still amazed he was still alive. He had passed Thomas's bunk, the door left wide open and a candlelight still burning. Intrigued, Alexander really did want to know how Thomas stayed so optimistic and confident throughout all of this. He looked around to make sure no one was up. When concluding to himself he was alone, he stepped inside and noticed a notebook on the desk where the candlelight sat on, a quill being left in its ink bottle. He checked the door. Nobody. He hesitated. He shouldn't do this.... This was wrong.... This was invasion of privacy, this was -
....
"Thomas is.... /Dying/....?!" He spoke softly, all air in his lungs escaping. His heart sank to the floor like an anchor. He continued to read.
"September 4th, 1733,
I'm dying. The infection in both my arm and eye are in critical condition. My chances of surviving are downright minuscule. But I'm not giving up just yet.
It has been years since we lost Washington, the White House, and even traits of what made us who we are. But I'm not giving up just yet.
Alexander seems to have forgotten what he fights for, as well as MULLIGAN, of all people. But I'm not giving up just yet.
King George III has an entire battalion whereas we come in a measly amount of support. There's no way in hell we'll survive....
But I'm. Not. Giving up. Just yet.
I have to push forward. For my friends. For Jemmy ♥. For the men who raised me - Goddammit, I must do this for all of America! I must prove to them - To my people - That we've nothing to fear! Heed not to the tyrant, but to the rabble who only demand peace and equality! I will fight for what's right, even if it's the last damn thing that I do!
I can't give up. I won't give up. I mustn't give up.
And so, I choose not to. There's so many beautiful reasons to keep pushing forward.... I just wish that the others would see that."
Alexander didn't know what to say or how to feel. But knowing how determined Thomas Jefferson was.... It made him crack a tiny smile. Despite this, it faded away promptly when he heard someone clear their throat. He quickly slammed the journal shut and turned to face a man known none other as Thomas Jefferson himself. He stared at the much taller man, unsure of what to say. Thomas must have felt the same, as he just grasped the ball of his cane with his only hand and sighed. "I knew you were nosy, Alex," he started, walking towards him in a slouched manner. "But I didn't realise you'd stoop to the level of snooping around while everyone else is asleep."
".... T-.... Thomas, I.... You...."
"Yeeeeeeesssss....?"
Alexander didn't know what else to do. He soon just.... Wrapped his arms around Thomas, leaving him to pause before slowly wrapping his own arm around Hamilton, the shorter male trying not to weep.
".... You're fucking dying..."
".... I see you found that out about me...."
"Thomas, why didn't you say anything?! We could've done something to help! - Th-The doctors in Virginia could've---!"
"Alexander, hush. You're going to disturb someone."
"Thomas, this is serious! Who cares if everyone else is sleeping?! You're fucking---!"
Thomas pulled away to glower at Alexander, who realised he was talking too loud and held his breath slightly. Eventually, Thomas sighed and rubbed his left shoulder up and down, it actually calming Alexander down a bit.
".... I.... I-I /know/ that I'm dying, Alex, I do.... I tried to see if the doctors could help - Please believe me when I say that I did - But there wasn't anything they could do. They said it themselves; the infections had already done their damage. It's.... It's too late.... I'm sorry...."
Alexander didn't want to believe the words he was hearing. He shook his head, his pupils the size of a tack, his expression being one of sheer horror. More tears welled up, hot streams soon rushing down as he hugged Thomas again, Jefferson attempting not to do the same. They said nothing. Soft whimpers and quiet cries were all that was heard. Thomas soon tapped Alexander's back after a few moments of silence. "Hey, Alex?"
".... Yeah....?"
".... Can you do me a favour and.... Keep this a secret from everybody else?"
Alexander pulled away, now looking more startled than he did horrified.
"Wh-.... Whhhhy would you want me to hide it from the others? Don't they have a right to know?"
"Hey, you read everythin'. I don't wanna anyone else knowing I got the hots for James."
Thomas smiled pathetically, but Alexander didn't find that exactly funny. ".... Are you serious right now?"
Thomas opened his mouth to say something, but he slowly closed it and glanced away with his only eye.
".... I'll be performing an operation on myself sub rosa.... If anyone else were to find out, it could potentially delay the process and increase my chances of dying."
".... But.... If doctors couldn't fix you, then.... What makes you think that /you/ can?"
".... I'll have bought the farm for a price I couldn't afford."
Alexander stared at him, dread and perplexity crashing into each other. What was that supposed to mean? He was never good with metaphors.... Maybe he could ask Aaron? He was always great with poetry! Thomas continued to speak.
"Besides, you'll be leading as a gardener one day. And I just know you got the green thumb for it."
Alexander stared at the other some more. What.... Was he exactly trying to say? Was he hiding something? What else could he be /possibly/ hiding? "Thomas, just speak to me in English already. I know you're dying, so just spit it out."
"I can't do that, Alexander."
"And just why not?"
Thomas sighed and walked to his bed, looking back at Alexander with a somber expression.
"The best way to keep a secret is to pretend there isn't one."
Alexander felt.... Concerned. As soon as Thomas sat down on the edge of his bed, Alexander walked over and hugged him one final time, the two men not saying anything.
".... Are you afraid someone will hear?"
"No. Just afraid that you'll learn too soon."
"Too soon....? For what....?"
"It will be wonderful, you'll see."
Alexander frowned. He hated it whenever Thomas would be so open and straightforward about things, especially if it was an attempt to ruin his career, but now he was beginning to miss that. He now started to hate how silent and reserved he was. He wanted to hear another rant about how great macaroni was. He wanted to hear another rant about how special his suit Petunia is. He wanted to even hear how much of a dick he was for not ever agreeing with him in the first place. He wanted....
He wanted the old Thomas Jefferson back.
But he didn't realise he wanted the old Alexander Hamilton back at the same time.
