Falling Through Time: Basking in Candlelight

Six

----

Warnings: Bit of blood

----

When Hamilton woke the next morning, his concern grew. Jefferson seemed to be in even worse condition. He was pale, his breathing was labored, eyes screwed shut, skin clammy and covered in sweat, and now, he broke out in convulsing coughs that wracked his whole body. What hit Hamilton hardest was the fact he couldn't do much of anything. All Hamilton could do was make sure Jefferson got plenty of rest and ate plenty of food. That was harder than it sounds.

He drew the curtains closed, making sure the room was quiet and dark, just how Jefferson liked it. A candle burned in the corner, just enough light for Hamilton to read by but all his attempts to read only got him going over the same paragraph over and over. He wasn't absorbing a single word.

He was just too worried. People were known to die from lesser illnesses.

Madison stopped by later that day and told Hamilton to go home. Reluctantly, Hamiton did. It wasn't until he stood on his doorstep he remembered that Eliza had been worried sick about him going out in a storm and hadn't heard from him sent. Hamilton was going to get an earful for that. Oops.

He opened the door, "Honey, I'm home," he called out. No response. "Eliza?" Well okay then, no one home. At least he didn't have to deal with the lecture yet. Hamilton immediately went to his office where he found a note.

Alexander,

Went out for Phillip's birthday.

Your Loving Wife,
-Elizabeth Hamilton

Well, shit. Hamilton was so dead when she got home. He had two options. Wait and get it over with, or run for it and hope she doesn't explode.

He took option two, naturally. As much as he wanted to check on Jefferson, he had to get some work done and there was only one place he could go for that. Scooping up a pile of documents, he left. Though, he didn't get very far. Instead, he ended running into an old friend and ended up walking into a tavern. Smart move. By the time he emerged, slightly tipsy, it was the middle of the night. He bid Morris a good night and instead of heading home like a smart person, he pressed on with his errand.

Knock knock knock knock

Footsteps approached, the door swung open.

"Alexander?" a sleepy Burr asked, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Aaron Burr, sir."

"It's the middle of the night," Burr pointed out. "What are you doing here? Don't you have a wife that you should be with?"

"Can we confer, sir?" Hamilton asked, shifting his papers.

"Is this a legal matter?" Burr asked, eyeing the documents tiredly.

"Yes, and it's important to me."

"More important than spending time with your loved one before you run out time?" Burr asked. Hamilton rose a brow, Burr was still mourning his wife, Theodosia. Burr sighed, "What do you need?" Anything to get Hamilton off his doorstep faster.

"Burr, you're a better lawyer than me," Hamilton began.

"Okay." Burr prayed he'd get the point quickly.

"I know I talk too much, I'm abrasive. You're incredible in court. You're succinct, persuasive. My client needs a strong defense, you're the solution."

"This sounds like you're trying to pitch the Constitution to me again. Get to the point. Who's your client?"

"The entire nation," Hamilton said sheepishly.

Burr face palmed. He going to kill him. Burr was going to kill Hamilton. "No." Then slammed the door in Hamilton's face.

"Someone's moody," Hamilton called through the wood.

"ITS FUCKING THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING! GO THE FUCK HOME BEFORE I SHOOT YOU IN THE FACE!" Burr screamed from inside, sliding locks closed.

"Jeez, fine." Hamilton shifted his grip on his papers and headed toward home. Halfway there, he decided waking up the house by coming home in the middle of the night would be rude, so he went to Jefferson's to make sure Madison could get some sleep tonight.

As soon as Hamilton arrived, Madison went home, dark circles under his eyes. Jefferson looked about the same before and it was worrying Hamilton that he wasn't getting better. Madison said he had called a physician but they could do nothing for him. It was all up to Jefferson.

Hamilton settled into his spot by Jefferson's side. His body was hot, too hot. Heat rippled off him in waves. His body tensed as another set of coughs rocked through him, blood dribbling from his mouth.

"Jefferson," Hamilton whispered worriedly, wiping it away, "You can't die on me." Jefferson's eyes opened ever so slightly, they were unfocused, but he was conscious. Hamilton smiled down at him, "Promise me, Jefferson, promise you won't die without me."

Jefferson's twitched into a small smile, "I promise," he said hoarsely.

Hamilton got up and retrieved water for him. "Can you eat?" he asked, but Jefferson was already asleep again.

***

Jefferson's fever broke in the middle of the night. Hamilton was so relieved but he couldn't stick around for Jefferson to wake up. As soon as Madison showed up, Hamilton took off. He had to go home. He'd been gone for two days now, Eliza would be worried sick and then livid.

Hamilton regretted taking option two as soon as he walked in through that door.

She exploded.

***

He spent the next few days in his office. He didn't eat much and hardly slept at all but that was all normal. He was able to wrap up some of his cases and wrote back to all the letters he got asking for his advice.

Sitting back in his chair, he was enjoying the sight of a clean desk for once. He finished all his work. All he had were his ink bottles, his quills, some clean parchment, and the book Jefferson gave him all neatly organized. It was beautiful. Hamilton's eyes caught on the book, he hadn't had a chance to even touch it yet. He could start on that right now, he had nothing else to do.

Then Eliza walked in, dropped a stack of letters as high as the pyramids on his desk and walked out again.

He sighed and went back to work, pushing the book aside again.

----