What Is A Legacy?

Chapter Twenty-Five

The days following Eliza's arrival were long, it seemed, and he always looked up at the door opening hoping that it would be her again. But it would only just be a nurse or a doctor coming to check on his vitals. She said she'd come around, but hadn't since that night. But, even though he minded, he couldn't blame her. He wasn't the focal point of her life, and that was alright with him. It was probably for the best, he conceded. The less he saw of her, the less he'd have to worry about his silly little crush.

One day the door opened, and Washington and Alexander walked in. Thomas looked up from writing, and smiled in greeting. "Took you two long enough to come back around."

Washington smiled. "Glad to see you've got your humor back."

"On the contrary, sir, I don't think it ever left." He put his papers and pen away as the two men sat in chairs next to his bed.

Alexander spoke. "I trust the doctors are taking good care of you."

Thomas nodded. "They have. I don't think I'd be doing as well as I am without them."

"And how are you doing?" Washington asked. "The last time we saw you..."

"I wasn't doing so well," he finished, and the President nodded. "I'm doing okay. Obviously still on the mend, but they've been feeding me well and giving me enough medicine. They had to go in and remove bullet fragments a week ago, and after that, my shoulder feels a lot better now."

Alexander's eyes widened, clearly he hadn't heard that side of the story. Thomas wondered if Alexander himself had ever gone through something similar.

Washington eyed the sling. "It seems as if God has been answering our prayers."

"I was lucky," Thomas admitted. "There were many times in the last eight months where things could have gone horribly wrong. If they had, I wouldn't be here."

Alexander spoke again. "Well, that's why we're here," he said, somewhat awkwardly. "Congress needs a statement from you regarding the events of the last eight months. We're in the early process of prosecuting Leon and Josue, but we've barely made a dent. We're not even sure if it'll even go through to France considering their state in the revolution. But there's no harm in at least trying."

Washington held up a hand. "That is, only if you're well enough to do it. I know you've been through an ungodly amount of pain these past few months, and it's only understandable that you're not up to it-"

Thomas interrupted. "I think I'm ready. To talk about it, I mean. But some memories are hazy." A bundle of nerves grew, but he forced himself to push it down. Sooner or later, he had to talk about it. He may as well get it over with now.

The President swallowed, and it was strange to see him so unsettled. Washington did have a habit of taking people like himself and Alexander under his wing, so it wasn't a surprise to see him worried. Just strange. "Okay." He turned to Alexander. "Get some paper and a pen. A good amount of it." The Treasury Secretary nodded and left the room momentarily. While he was gone, Washington turned to Thomas again.

"I know I've said this before, but I want to apologize for putting you in that situation. I was foolish to even make that decision-"

He interrupted again. "Mr. President, no one could have known this was going to happen. I'm just glad to be back home in one piece." Managing a small smile, he said, "As long as you never send me back to France again, there are no grudges I hold against you or Congress."

Washington chuckled. "We can manage that." The door opened again and Alexander walked in with papers in his hand.

"Jefferson, are you ready?" he asked as he sat back down, and Thomas nodded. Over the next couple of hours, he explained to the two men what had happened from the moment he arrived in France to the moment he'd woken up after surgery. Everything from the arguments with Leon to them drugging him and throwing him into the Bastille. He paused before approaching the events of what happened during the storming of the Bastille, steeling himself for recalling what happened that led to his injuries.

His voice caught when he got to the part of Isabelle and Byron's sacrifice, when he described how Andre carried him for miles across French territory. Explaining in detail was difficult considering how vividly he remembered that night. He noticed the way Washington's eyes darkened, the slight hesitation in the scratching of Alexander's pen as he spoke. Alexander kept writing as Thomas continued, but he could tell the man wasn't fully with them. Neither he nor Washington were. Surely they were remembering their own friends they'd lost in battle, the troops and battalions they'd watched get torn apart by the hands of war.

War brings you monsters that stay under your bed.

Once Thomas was done telling the story of his ordeals, his mouth was dry and his jaw hurt. He hadn't talked for as long as he had in almost a year. Even just describing the events, reliving those memories, was exhausting.

It had taken Alex nearly five pages front and back to write it all down, and surprisingly, he had to shake out his hand after he dotted the last word. "Okay, that will be all," he said, his voice catching in his throat. "Thank you, that must have been hard to do."

Thomas winced. "It had to be done at some point."

Washington frowned. "Not if you're not ready to talk about it yet, Jefferson. Do not force yourself to do something you are not yet ready for."

Thomas knew he was right, but all the same, he had to talk about it at some point. "I had to do it sooner or later, Mr. President. They've been in my head for the past months; I had to get it off my chest."

"I can't fault that, but you've only been back for less than a month. Pace yourself, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

Washington paused for a moment. "That's all we needed today, and we wanted to come by and check on you. I'm glad to see you're doing better."

"Thank you, sir, as am I." The two men stood up, and he suddenly realized something.

"Mr. President?"

"Yes, Jefferson?"

"I think you need to know that Lafayette is not an enemy to us. He took care of me when he could have turned me away. I give him all the credit for the fact that I'm sitting in this bed right now. He's the one who made contact and got me onto the cargo ship. Make sure nothing happens to him."

Washington nodded. "I remember Lafayette. He's a smart man. I'll write to him, don't you worry." At that, he swept out of the room, and Thomas was surprised to see Alexander stay behind for a moment. The irrational thought of him discovering Eliza's visit a few days prior ran through his head, but he knew there was no reason for Alexander to be mad. They hadn't done anything of the sort, after all.

"I just wanted to thank you for going over there," Alexander started. "I know we have never gotten along, but it took courage to go to France. And I know I will never come close to understanding what you went through over there, but I admire your strength. I don't think I would have pushed through as hard as you did."

Thomas was taken aback, not expecting this amount of flattery to come from his rival. "Thank you, Hamilton. I appreciate it more than you think. But you and I both know that you would have fought as hard as me, if you were in my place. You have that way about you, and I admire that."

Alexander looked surprised at Thomas's own praise, and to be fair, so was Thomas himself. Perhaps France had changed more about him than he'd thought.

Alex nodded, and swallowed. "Get some rest, Philip misses you." And with that statement, he left the room.

What the hell just happened? Thomas nearly laughed at the absurdity of what conversation just transpired between the two men. But he was somewhat relieved to have broken down some sort of wall between them. The physical altercation they had before Thomas left seemed like years ago, and if you had told him that this kind of conversation would happen, he would have laughed.

But now, after what had happened over the past months, it wasn't absurd. He just hoped that he'd get to go home soon, and Alexander's last words came back to him.

Get some rest, Philip misses you.

After he was out of the hospital, that was what Thomas intended to do: go to see Philip.