In Sickness And In Health (Jeffmads): a Hamilton fanfiction

Chapter 4

Part 4 is here!

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Jefferson's p.o.v

Suddenly, someone shoved me, hard, from behind. I went down like a bowling ball, hitting my head on the pavement and angering my leg even further. Hearing shouts behind me, I hauled myself up, ready to yell at anything and anyone as my head swum.

That was, until I saw Mads.

He was lying on the floor, a mangled car flipped on its side next to him. Every part of him seemed to be covered in crimson, and his eyes, his beautiful kind eyes that never hurt anybody were closed. Before I knew what I was doing, I was screaming, pushing past the small crowd, trying to get to my best friend, vowing to personally deal with the moron who did this to him.

"He's my friend, please!" I howled as someone, a tourist, most probably, attempted to hold me back. "Let me get to him!"

Looking down on him, I surveyed his injuries. His arm was twisted almost 180 degrees, the bone poking through the skin. There was a deep laceration on his forehead, and that's as far as I got, unable to look at him anymore. It struck me, then, as I watched the blood mingle with the dirt, that it must've been him who pushed me out of the way of the car that may have very well killed him. He'd saved my life.

"Thomas Jefferson!?" someone, a kindly-looking old woman, shouted. "Is anyone here Thomas Jefferson?"

"I am," I croaked, unable to keep the tears from pouring down my face. I was pulled forward, and I saw then that Mads had woken up, and he was looking around wildly for me.

"Thomas?" he groaned as I knelt next to him. "That you?"

"Yeah, I'm here," I whispered, wiping back his short hair in a gesture of comfort. "You're gonna be okay, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he told me softly, placing his hand on my cheek: I savoured the touch.

"I can keep this one," I said firmly.

"Sorry for pushing you. You okay?"

"Don't worry about me."

"You're bleeding," he said, concerned, and when I brought my fingers to my forehead, they came away bloody.

"Whatever, I'll sort it out later," I brushed it off, trying not to stare at his arm. "I'm afraid, Mr Madison, you'll have to focus on yourself."

He giggled. His laugh. I love his laugh. It's the sort of tinkling laugh that lights up the entire room and makes everyone else join in, even if nothing is really funny. It's the sort of laugh stand-up comedians crave, and I love it.

Looking helplessly at me, he coughed a little, and it took all of my energy not to scream when a small dribble of blood ran down his chin.

"You need to promise me you'll look after yourself," he said, serious now as even more tears poured out of my leaky eyes. "Promise me, Thomas."

"I won't need to because you'll be here," I replied. We clutched onto each other for dear life, and all the background noise, all the yelling seemed to fade out, and it was just me and him.

"It hurts!" he howled suddenly, trying to curl in on himself.

"I know, I know," I begged with him. "You need to stay flat, Mads, you might have a back injury."

"Since when did you become a doctor?" he asked, his voice hoarse as he lay flat again, his uninjured hand clamped on his side.

"I watch a lot of daytime TV."

He laughed again, blood gurgling deep in his lungs.

"Don't do anything stupid," he told me before his eyes slid shut again.

I pretended not to hear my own scream.

I pretended not to see myself shaking him, trying to wake him up.

I pretended not to hear the ambulance approaching.

I pretended not to see the awful bruising to his abdomen.

I pretended not to notice the grave looks on the paramedics' faces.

I pretended not to be sitting next to him in the ambulance, a paramedic fussing over my bleeding head and handing me my cane.

I pretended not to hear the frantic beeping of the heart monitor.

I pretended not to hear the scream of "CLEAR!" when we got to the hospital.

I pretended not to see his body jolt up from the electricity before the glass in the door was hastily covered.

I pretended not to have fainted from the concussion.

I pretended that the whole thing had never happened.

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When I woke up, I was dressed in those stupidly thin hospital robes that were open at the back, and was connected to about a dozen machines. When I put my hand to where the pain was, I felt a thick gauze pad. Turning my head painfully to the side, I spotted Eliza sitting there, engrossed in a magazine. I coughed to grab her attention, and she rushed to my side as soon as she saw that I was awake.

Eliza's p.o.v

I made my way hastily to the side of his bed, and he looked up at me in terror. His eyes and hair were wild, and he looked almost feral.

"Is Mads okay?" he asked desperately, grabbing my hand. "He has to be okay."

I allowed myself a grim little smile.

"He's alive," I replied. I don't think I've ever seen someone look so relieved in my life as he threw his head back into the pillow, laughing out loud.

"He's okay," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. I didn't have the heart to tell him that Madison had died 3 times during surgery, gone into hypovolemic shock and now didn't have a spleen. "Do you know what happened?"

The demanding tone in his voice surprised me, but I answered honestly.

"No. As both your's and Madison's emergency contacts are each other, they called the last person in your phones, which was us. Alexander's with Madison now."

"He saved my life," he whispered so softly that I could barely hear what he said, addressing the bedclothes before looking up at me. "He shoved me away without even thinking of his own life."

I couldn't help but give a small smile at how clueless he was to his own emotions. The love and awe were evident in his voice, but he would not admit it, his stubborn pride blocking the way.

God, I hoped, for both their sakes, that Madison pulled through this.

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Hope you enjoyed this, Chapter 5 should be up later!