The Press (Whamilton)

Ch. 30

Alexander Hamilton had never liked hospitals. They were always very cold and serious, and it wasn't like there was ever good news from going to one. He always had something wrong with him when he went to the hospital. When he went to the hospital when he was 9, his mother died. When he went to the hospital when he was 11, he was sick with bronchitis. When he went to the hospital when he was 14, he had to get a shot, passed out, and cracked his head open on the floor.

When Alexander Hamilton went to the hospital three months ago, after getting into a car accident with George Washington, he was diagnosed to be in a coma for God knows how long. Except, this time, Alexander wasn't even aware he was at the hospital and therefore couldn't cry and whine about it. This time, it was George Washington's job to cry for Hamilton about being anywhere near a hospital.

It was somewhere August when the crash happened and now it was late November, and Alexander was still comatose. Washington spent almost every day in his hospital room, reading whatever new book he had bought from the gift shop. Currently he was reading a book about depression in animals.

Hamilton had never looked more peaceful, and it made Washington worried. He looked as peaceful as a dead man on his funeral. The last thing Washington wanted was for Hamilton to be dead and in heaven. George glanced up from his book at the heart monitor. The same steady beat that it was every day. He nodded a little and looked back at his book.

He reached over and took Alexander's hand, gently rubbing it and sniffling. George read books, held Alexander's hand, and cried. That, and once a week he would go to the front lobby desk to pay the lady working there. The news reporters were relentless, even at times like this, and George had to pay the hospital to keep them out of his and Hamilton's rooms.

Washington's leg had healed since the crash, but it still felt too sore to walk on. So he still used the wheel chair they provided him. He refused to use crutches since he wanted his arms free. Also, the crutches were hard to keep track of.

Since the accident, George had only talked to the press once. He explained why they were in the car, where they were going, and his relationship with Alexander Hamilton. Complete honesty and nothing less. However, he did leave out any information about Thomas Jefferson, Eliza Schuyler, Maria Reynolds, and John Adams. He also didn't mention any personal information of Hamilton's. This was his part of the story, and if anybody else did not want to tell theirs then they didn't have to.

Of course the press went absolutely crazy over the fact that George Washington and Alexander Hamilton were in love. Why would they not? It was the story of the century. They were still trying to interview the rest of the cabinet, but they remained as silent as mice. Even John Adams, who usually accidentally reveals important information to the press, refused interviews of any kind with anybody.

Thomas Jefferson had been getting coffee one morning only to find out that two workers at the coffee shop were wearing a wire and trying to get "secret information" off of him about George and Alexander. After that, the members of the cabinet stopped leaving their house and stopped going to public places.

"Ridiculous," George muttered to himself as he turned the page, "Absolutely stupid for people to act like that. I know we don't have a right to privacy once we're in politics but come on." He looked at Hamilton, as if expecting some kind of response.

Hamilton lied there like he always did, his eyes shut and heart monitor beeping at its usual rate. Washington looked away and continued reading his book.

"Mr. President?" A nurse said quietly as she walked in. She was carrying a clipboard. "There's a visitor for Hamilton."

"If it is any reporter or somebody claiming to be his family send them away. His parents are deceased and he has no siblings or children." Washington said in a rehearsed tone. He had to tell three other nurses this in the past month. The reporters were getting smarter with their secret interview strategies.

The nurse shook her head and said, "It's Thomas Jefferson." George blinked and nodded slowly.

"Well, send him in." Washington sighed with defeat. He leaned back in his chair and set his book aside. The nurse left and one minute later Thomas Jefferson came in. He was wearing a dark purple suit and shiny black shoes. His hair was in corn rows, which Washington wasn't sure if he had ever seen Thomas's hair like that before. In his hands was a bouquet of roses and an envelope.

Jefferson cleared his throat and said softly, "I'm so sorry."

Washington didn't reply. He wasn't sure how to.

"I tried to get Adams to come," Thomas said, scratching the bridge of his nose, "But he said he had family stuff. That's what he said the first three times I asked him too." Washington nodded a little, as if John not wanting to visit made up for Jefferson not visiting either. He gestured to the other visitor's chair. Thomas shook his head and leaned against the wall.

"I heard what you told the press." Jefferson said as he set the flowers and letter on the little table. "I wanted to thank you. You had no reason to not tell them what I did."

Washington looked out the window. It was getting colder outside every day, and soon it would snow. He said softly, "I didn't find it necessary. That's your business, not mine. If you or Hamilton want to tell the press then do so, but I'm not one for gossip and secrets." He looked at Thomas with narrowed, cold eyes. "I'm not a child."

Jefferson gulped and seemed to shrink in shame under Washington's gaze. He stammered, "I- I didn't mean for things to- to go so wrong, sir. I'm so sorry for all- all of this... Has he... Has he moved? At all?"

"He's been a coma for three months now." Washington snapped, "Do you think he's moved?" Jefferson stayed silent. He looked at the door and sighed.

"Washington," He started, "I'm trying to be nice here. Really you- you're not giving me a chance to change."

Thomas had a point. George was holding a grudge, and grudges didn't give you anything but wrinkles and pent up anger. Washington nodded a bit and looked down.

George muttered, "I'm sorry. It's just been very hard to continue like this. Like a missing half. He... It's not that he was the only good part of my day, I just find it hard to small tasks without him there. Like, even his presence was an important aspect. I tried writing my resignation letter and I just couldn't stop thinking about his eyes and his hair. The way he suggested stupid ideas just to mess with me in a meeting."

Jefferson perked up at resignation letter. Washington forgot that the only people who knew about his resignation were Hercules Mulligan and Alexander Hamilton. Thomas asked, "What do you mean resignation?"

"I..." George was at a loss for words. Would it be rude to spoil the surprise for Thomas? To tell Thomas that he would most likely be the next president? Washington said quietly, "I'm resigning. It's been a wonderful two years, but this is getting difficult. I want to settle down... Jefferson, I... I want to endorse you."

"Me?" Jefferson scoffed, "Washington, sir, I'm flattered, but I could never amount to you."

Washington sighed, "Yes you can. You could amount to me and more. Jefferson, I'm tired. You can't stop me from resigning."

Thomas took a moment to look st Washington. He looked tired. Shoulders slumped, eyes half open, hands weakly holding onto Alexander's. Jefferson did want to be president, but this felt like killing a puppy. He looked away and admitted, "Being president does sound nice, sir."

"Then it's settled." Washington said.

Without another word, Thomas left the room and George went back to reading.