What Is A Legacy?

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Eliza?" Thomas lifted his head, convinced that she was just a figment of his imagination, a result of the pain medicine.

"Thomas?" she whispered, and God, did it feel good to hear her voice.

"Hey," he said softly, using his good arm to further prop himself up.

She stood in the doorway for a second, watching him, like she couldn't believe he was in front of her. To be fair, he couldn't believe she was in front of him either.

Then she stepped into the room, moving cautiously as if she was afraid she'd disturb him. Her skirts brushed the floor, her arms stiff and uncertain at her side. The relief in her eyes was palpable, and as she stopped by his bedside, she reached out a hand to touch his. He took it, her soft small hand a strange contrast to his callused, rough one. She let out a bark of a laugh. "You're real."

He smiled tiredly. "As far as I know."

She returned the smile, but her lips pursed tightly together as tears sparked in her eyes. Thomas was concerned, he'd never seen Eliza cry. She had always been strong, always would be, but he didn't realize how much his capture had shaken her. "Eliza?" he asked.

She shook her head in response, as if telling him she was fine when she clearly wasn't. "You scared me, Thomas. You scared everybody." She wasn't sobbing, but delicate silver tears ran down her cheeks and curled under her jaw. "I'm just glad to see you."

Thomas didn't reply, but instead grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, wrapping his arm around her waist and hugging her tightly. It was an awkward little hug, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck with his head nestled against her torso. But he smelled lavender again soothing and strangely comforting. He didn't realize how much he'd missed it until now. "I'm so sorry, Eliza," he murmured, and he didn't know what he was apologizing for.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Eliza told him. Her long hair tickled his nose. "But you had everyone very worried about you. Including me."

"I'll try not to do it again," Thomas tried to joke, and they broke apart. Eliza looked him over, her brow creased in worry, her fingers carefully picking a stray thread off his shirt. He could tell she was in "mom-mode", and it made him chuckle. He didn't mind, he wouldn't say no to a little attention.

Then Eliza spoke, asking him the question he wasn't ready to answer. "Thomas, what happened over there?" she asked him quietly. "Alexander told me it wasn't good but-"

"I think you know better than anyone that your husband loves to exaggerate," Thomas replied. "But it wasn't good. I won't go into detail, I don't think I'm ready to talk about that yet."

"That's okay. Sorry for pressing." She looked a little embarrassed, and Thomas took her hand again in comfort. He was pleased when she didn't pull away, but it could be that she was more worried about him than about hand-holding. She frowned, her gaze landing on his sling. "Did you break your arm?" she asked, looking like she didn't want to hear the answer to that question.

Thomas sucked in a breath. "No, I was shot," he said gently, and Eliza's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Thomas spoke quickly, trying to reassure her. "But I feel okay for the time being. They just removed some shrapnel from the wound, maybe a few hours ago. Or a day ago. Time's funny right now."

His voice caught in his throat as he recalled Andre's words, how time was funny in the Bastille, and Isabelle's quip at how he couldn't tell time anyways. His breath caught in his throat, but Eliza didn't notice.

"Please tell me that's all that happened," Eliza breathed, and Thomas shook his head. "No, it's not. But it's not pretty, so I don't blame you if you don't want to hear-"

"Only if you don't want to tell me, Thomas. That's your choice, I won't pressure you into telling me if you're not ready."

Thomas winced. "All I can remember is that Leon punched me, I hit my head on the floor, which is probably where my concussion came from. They chloroformed me a couple of times, and the list goes on. I won't worry you with the details, and I don't think I can list them all right now."

Eliza was still worried, hovering around his bed anxiously. "I haven't hurt you, have I?"

Thomas couldn't help but smile at her concern, and he reached out for her hand again. She took it, albeit a little hesitatingly. "No, Eliza. I don't think you could."

She smiled sadly. "I'm glad."

"How's Philip?" he asked, the boy springing to mind, and Eliza's smile brightened.

"Good. He misses you, of course. We haven't yet told him you are back in America. It would spell trouble for all of us if he knew. You're in no position to have a near 7 year old running around this small room. And I'm sure he'd want to be all over you, which we both know can't happen."

Thomas nodded. He'd like to see the boy, but he also knew Eliza had a point. Philip wouldn't understand why Thomas couldn't play with him or run around, and he was sure the sight of Thomas's raggedy self would freak him out a little. To be fair, it freaked Thomas out, too, to see himself with long hair and a beard.

"Speaking of Philip," Eliza said, somewhat dejectedly. "I should probably get back before he goes to bed. Alexander is most likely still working, and I can't leave my son alone for too long. You know how that goes."

Thomas nodded, understanding. He remembered his days of wrestling a toddler to bed, and didn't envy Eliza in that moment now. "I do. Go be with your son, I'm not going anywhere."

"I would hope not. We've only just got you back." Eliza grabbed her shawl off a chair, one he hadn't realized she'd thrown it off, and pulled it around herself. "I'll be back when I can. If there's ever a time where you need a friend, it's now."

Thomas was secretly glad to hear that, but at the same time she had a life outside of him. She didn't need to sit next to him day after day. And what would her husband think about her spending so much time with his political rival? "You don't have to, Eliza. I'm not sure Alexander would enjoy you spending so much time with me."

She shrugged, like it didn't matter. "I don't think he'd stop me from lending care to someone in need, no matter who it is. He won't say anything, but he's secretly relieved that you're back home. I think he's missed having someone to argue with."

That made Thomas smile a little. "My current state makes it hard to do such things, but I'm sure we'll fall back into our usual rhythms in no time."

Eliza smiled, rolling her eyes slightly. "I know you will. But until then, get plenty of rest. I'll come around to take care of you, you helpless thing."

Thomas laughed, playfully appalled. "How dare you. I am not helpless."

Eliza laughed, a gentle, soothing sound. "I'm pretty sure I could best you in arm wrestling right now."
He smiled. "I'm sure you could. But honestly, you don't have to come by. It'll be a lot of work," he conceded.

"Not if it's you," she responded. And then, "The quicker we get you back on your feet, the quicker Philip can visit you."

That did brighten Thomas's spirits. He did miss the boy dearly and looked forward to the day they were reunited. "Well, I won't keep you any longer," he said. "Have a safe trip."

 Eliza stepped closer to his bed to squeeze his hand again. "Have a good night." And then she was gone just as quickly as she had arrived.

Thomas was sorry to see her go, but just her being here for a short amount of time had motivated him more. He had to get better for her. For Philip. If he didn't, Isabelle and Byron's deaths would have been for nothing.