Jefferson's p.o.v

Imagine a paper cut. Not one of those namby-pamby ones just on the back of your hand, but one of the bitchy ones in that space between two fingers. You're squirming just thinking about it, aren't you? Yeah, well, multiply that by about 10 billion and you've got how my leg felt that night. This is exactly why you don't rush out of the house and forget your flashy cane and your phone, people!

The wall was my new crutch, and I was flattened against it, dragging my tired body along with its help. My leg was a few inches behind me, angrily informing me that it did not appreciate all the unaided movement. Looking up in desperation, I felt tears trickle down my cheeks from the pain. I had to get somewhere, I frankly didn't care as long as it was relatively warm and the people who lived there could get Mads for me.

Looking to the right, I realised that I was on Hamilton's street, and I could see his house by the dim light of the streetlamp. Limping forward with a groan, I lurched dangerously to the door, knocking frantically as my face flattened against it.

Eliza answered the door in her nightgown, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. I felt guilty for a moment, but a particularly vicious bout of pain struck my leg and I cried out before I could stop myself.

"Mr Jefferson?" she said, shocked. "Why are you here?"

"Phone," I gasped as I slowly slid down the doorframe. "Please."

"You better come inside," she replied, slipping my arm over her shoulder and helping me to the plush couch. "I'm going to get Alexander."

I lay there, breathing in little gasps as pure agony radiated from my ankle all the way up to my hip, I heard Eliza arguing with Hamilton upstairs.

"But he's hurt, Alexander!"

"I don't care! It's Jefferson, for fuck's sake!"

"Language."

"Sorry."

"Just go and take one look at him and get back to me," she finished angrily, and I felt a wave of affection for her. Footsteps made their way down the stairs, and Alexander's head poked round the doorway, his face irritated. As soon as he clapped eyes on me in my sorry state, face stained with tears and my hand clamped on my jean-clad leg, he didn't look so annoyed.

"Jefferson? What happened?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. I heard no malice in his tone.

"You need to go and get Madison," I breathed as loud as I could, my voice hoarse with pain.

"Give me his number, I'll call him."

"No," I replied harshly, breathing ragged. "Doesn't have a car. You'll have to pick him up or phone a cab or something."

"Where does he live?"

"31 Mercer..." I managed to tell him before I was cut off by my own howl of pain. Alexander looked spooked and scuttled out of the front door; soon, I heard the car start up and shoot off.

Unable to contain the pained groans, I gave Eliza a begging look, but all she could do was sadly shake her head at me. I understood what she meant: no pain meds in the house.

"Mummy?" came a sleepy and undeniably cute voice from the doorway. Snapping my head to the side, I was slightly surprised to see a mini version of Alexander standing there, no older than 7 or 8. He clutched a blanket, and his eyes were wide as he regarded me with keen interest. "Who's that man on the couch?"

"That's Mr Jefferson, Phillip," she said, her tone resigned as she ushered the child into the room. "He works with Daddy."

"Daddy says you're a rich, pompous prick and he's surprised that you ever got into the government," Phillip said loudly, making Eliza blush and mouth sorry to me.

"We don't use language like that in this house, Phillip," she reprimanded the boy, who looked ashamedly at the floor. Out of the blue, a white-hot dagger mad its way into my flesh, and I bit down hard on the side of my cheek, tasting blood as so not to scare the child by screaming. This didn't go unnoticed by Eliza, who glanced towards the door impatiently.

Chancing a look at my maroon jeans, I almost yelped as I saw the small dark patch on the thigh. Blood. The old wound only bled when it got really bad: the last time it had bled was over 10 years ago. My breathing picked up, and before long, I was virtually hyperventilating.

"Where on God's good earth is that man?" Eliza said, eyeing me with concern. As if on cue, the front door slammed and Madison rushed in, my medication and cane in his hand. I could've have cheered with relief.

"Thomas!?" he whispered, shocked as he swept my sweaty hair off of my forehead. "What happened?"

"F-felt f-f-fi-fine this morning..." I stammered, and before I could stop it, a blood-curdling scream made its way out of my mouth. Phillip, the poor soul, jumped and immediately ran over his father, who picked him up and allowed the child to nuzzle into his neck. "Please, Jemmy, please!"

"Shh," he soothed, fumbling with the cap. "Damn child locks..."

Reaching up with shaking hands, I grasped at the front of his hoodie, sobbing into his chest. I heard him gasp in triumph, and soon the small white pills were held to my lips. I swallowed them greedily, savouring the bitter taste.

"Thomas..." he chanced, his tone uncertain. "It's bleeding."

Madison's p.o.v

As soon as I said that, Thomas' face flushed and he looked down, embarrassed. Eliza looked even more frightened than before, and Hamilton stole a quick look at the slowly growing patch of indistinguishable crimson before I glared at him, silently warning to stop being a nosy bastard.

"I know," he replied quietly, and I noticed that his voice was drowsy, his eyelids drooping. The medication was strong, and often knocked him out for about 3 or 4 hours.

"Hamilton," I said, clearing my throat. "I hope you don't mind, but we may have to intrude upon your privacy for a few more hours. I don't quite think I'll be able to get him home on my own, and I'm sure you don't want to be going out again at this time at night."

Hamilton opened his mouth to say something, but his wife (God bless her, she seemed like a lovely woman) cut him off.

"Of course you can both stay the night," she beamed. "We have a spare room towards the back; don't worry, no stairs."

I breathed a sigh of relief- trying to get Thomas up the stairs when he was in this state was a nightmare in itself- and flashed her a tired smile.

"Thank you," I said, truly grateful.

Turning back to Thomas, I tapped him gently on the shoulder, his confused eyes looking at me. I felt a twang of pity in my chest. I hated it when Thomas was like this, so vulnerable, so helpless... that was my job, not his. He was the strong one, the cocky one, the one everyone noticed...

The one I loved with all my heart. But I could never tell him, for fear of rejection and humiliation. He's straight, I told myself as I fought the urge to kiss him right here, right now.

"We've gotta move," I told him, and he groaned. Why, he mouthed, too tired to speak. "Because I can't lift you without dropping you, that's why."

He chuckled, eyes sliding closed again.

"Mon petit ami," he murmured almost inaudibly before suddenly... well, appearing is the best word for it, in an upright position, all of his weight on his right leg. "Oi, Mads, wanna be my third leg?"

Chuckling a little myself, I slipped my arm under his armpit, and he leant so heavily on me I thought I was going to snap in two.

"I am not small," I defended as we slowly made our way.

"Are too."

Rolling my eyes, I set him down on the double bed, turning around for decency as he slowly undressed down to his underwear and crawled under the covers.

"How badly is it bleeding?" I asked softly.

"It's stopped now," he said, but his voice was faint and when I turned around, he was already fast asleep. Giving a small smile, I checked that no-one was there, and planted a kiss on his forehead.

Nobody needs to know...

As soon as I got out of the bedroom door, I was assaulted by hissed questions from both Eliza and Alexander.

"Let me sit down and I'll tell you!" I announced, and they waited patiently for me to sit and warn them never to speak of it again before starting the tale.

"When me and Thomas were children in Virginia, we lived next door to each other. In the park across the road, there was a huge oak tree, easy enough to climb. I was a weak child, always ill, but on the rare occasion I would be allowed out, we would both climb this tree. I stayed towards the bottom whilst he scampered up towards the very top with the agility of an Olympic athlete."

I smiled as I remembered the warm Virginian summers, sitting on the bottom branch of the tree with Thomas seemingly miles above me. "When we were about 9, we were climbing the tree. Like normal, I was at the bottom, and he had climbed about halfway. I don't know what happened, but he just lost his footing and fell, all the way to the bottom."

I shuddered as I remembered watching with horror as Thomas fell, screaming. Scrambling to catch him, being too far away. His parents rushing out. Me holding him as he cried whilst his mother called 911. "He broke his leg, badly. 3 reconstructive surgeries later, he regained most of the movement, but it still bothers him sometimes."

"And all those times I thought that damn cane was a fashion accessory," Hamilton said under his breath, shaking his head.

"One heck of a fashion accessory," I agreed. "Neither of us were allowed out until we were 15, and we had to be with each other at all times."

We still stuck together. After all these years, we still stuck together.

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Part 2 coming sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon!