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

Chapter 20

Sup, dudes. This is the last chapter before the time skip. I am happy to announce that there will, in fact, be a sequel! It will be called "So, This Is Life", and will be up probably just after this fic is finished. Please enjoy this chapter!

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Jefferson's p.o.v

Okay, so, where were we? Huh? Oh, right, after the fight. I suppose the only interesting thing that happened after that was my small trip to hospital.

Don't worry, I wasn't ill or dying or anything horrible. Remember back to when my mother was here and I said I'd have to get an appointment for my leg? Well, I'd finally got round to getting one. Okay, that's a complete and utter lie. James got fed up and anxious with me having even more bad pain days and called for me. I was to go to New York General on June 1st for a checkup.

Well, when June 1st finally rolled around, I was tired, pissed and incredibly resistant about going.

"I don't wanna go!" I growled to James. I was hidden under the bedcovers, and he was standing over me; I could see his silhouette blocking the light, shrouding me in darkness. Part-darkness, anyway. "I don't need to go, I'm just wasting their time."

"You're going to this appointment!" he exclaimed. "You may not think it's a problem, but everyone else does! Even Hamilton asked me if you were okay the other day! Said you looked pale and tired. It's having an affect on you whether you like it or not."

I felt my face drain. If Hamiltrash was asking about me, it must be bad. Reluctantly, I slithered out of bed, glaring at James. He gave me a small smile in return as I flounced to the coffee pot.

"It's all for the best," he murmured, wrapping his arms around me from behind. Despite myself, I smiled a little.

"I know," I replied quietly. "I just don't want someone poking and prodding me like I'm some floppy dummy who can be experimented on!"

My voice had risen to a shout, and I slammed my fist onto the kitchen worktop. James jumped at least a foot in the air at the loud crash before taking my shaking fist and massaging it gently, uncurling my fingers.

"They won't," he said. "I promise."

I grinned and nodded my head before grabbing my shoes.

"Shall we go?"

James made a noise and steering me towards the bedroom. Inappropriate, I thought. I'm still up, though.

"Get changed into some normal clothes," he said simply before heading back out to the kitchen. I smirked and began to get changed.

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The hospital was relatively quiet. It wasn't the same hospital we'd been at after the accident, though. We walked- well, James walked and I limped- across the lobby towards the reception area. I suppose, in a way, I sort of like hospitals. True, they're freaky clean prisons and they're full of sick people and they hold horrible memories, but at least I can use my cane, or even sometimes crutches if it's really bad, and no-one will judge. You can't judge anyone in a hospital. It's impossible. Maybe internally, sure, but you can't stare or whisper like you would anywhere else. It's something about the social etiquette of hospitals that just doesn't allow it. As soon as you walk into a hospital, your primary emotion is sympathy. No questions asked. It's just- sorry, I'm ranting, aren't I?

Anyway, the man at the reception told us that the place we needed was on the fifth floor. He seemed uncomfortable as he said it, pointing us towards the elevators. I reflected on the irony of the situation. The fifth floor! What were they thinking? What is the elevator was broken? Mental.