A/N: Hey guys! I am so sorry for not updating in a while! I have had really bad writers block, but hopefully that has passed. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy Chapter 13:)
P.S. I don't speak French, so I am so sorry for any mistakes.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hamilton: An American Musical.
The next day, the sky is a clear blue being reflected by the many puddles of water that litter the courtyard like reverse islands. The light from the afternoon sun slips through the trees, coating the still wet grass in a golden glow as the water drops glisten. A faint wind blows, bringing the smell of freshly cut grass and damp wood throughout the yard.
Martha grips Alexander's hand tighter as a elderly couple pass, the man's wheelchair sloshing water on the slightly damp concrete, his wife pushing him from behind with a tired trot. Her ears twitch at the nod the Omega gives her, choosing to ignore the Secret Service Member that watches them from a few feet away. The Alpha sitting in the chair gives no reaction, his brown tail sitting limp against his gown clad legs as he stares straight ahead, pupils filled in with a milky white. They pass without a word.
The Omega sighs as her baby slowly loosens his grip on her hand, his notebook crinkling in his other. His ribs make walking difficult, but after using his infamous puppy dog eyes on Doctor Franklin, the Omega had reluctantly allowed him to have lunch outside for an hour. Martha was thrilled, but Alex was still skittish and the First Lady finds herself wishing that George was here to provide the extra comfort and safety his presence exerts.
But being President meant extra responsibilities, and the Alpha had barely been able to make it out the door for an emergency meeting with Congress. The only thing that had kept him from shifting fully was the sight of all of his Pack Members snuggled in Martha's makeshift Nest, Lafayette taking his father's place on his brother's right side.
After being assured by Jim that his Omegas would be safe for the next few hours, the Commander had taken his leave, kissing each of his family members on the forehead before walking out the door, his scent hanging in the air, as thick as a blanket. It had not faded all day, and the First Lady knew that that was not an accident.
"Mama!" A voice cuts through the stillness of the air, and the First Lady turns to look behind her as they stop at at bench, setting down her picnic basket on a spot of mostly dry Earth.
Gilbert runs toward them, Alex's purple pen held out in front of him like a weapon. His navy blue shirt flutters in the wind, the French flag embroiled on the front seeming to wave in triumph. His eyes are bright when he finally stops to stand in front of his mother and brother, grasping for breath, his once clean shoes covered with small flecks of dirt.
"I got it!"
Martha smiles down at her other son, brushing his bushy hair back with one hand, and grabbing the pen with the other.
"When I said 'Run and grab the pen' I didn't mean literally sprint, sweetheart." The First Lady laughs, watching with amusement as Gilbert shrugs, still bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Sitting down beside her youngest child, the Omega hands the utensil over to Alex, who scoots over to make room for Laf. The 15 year old plops down on the white bench, careful to not land on his brother's tubes still pumping liquids into his veins. Alexander glances at the other Omega once before opening his notebook and beginning to write, his own French shirt wrinkling as he leans over.
Martha watches with a soft smile as Gilbert rests his head on Alex's shoulder, feeling relieved when the small boy doesn't flinch away. Leaning down to open the brown basket sitting at their feet, the First Lady pulls out 3 sandwiches. She places her tuna sub on her lap, handing Lafayette his PB&J, and Alex his turkey and cheese. They are quiet while they eat, the only sound being the faint chirping of the birds, and the distant mummers of other patients enjoying the warm day.
"How was your trip, Lafayette?" Alexander asks quietly, still looking down at the paper in his lap, pen slowly stilling its movements as his brother starts to speak.
Gilbert grins, leaning down and begins describing his grand adventures in Europe with exaggerated movements. "It was so much fun Alex! I saw the Eiffel Tower, and got to try some Clafoutis. . . "
As the boys talk among themselves, Martha takes a sip of her water, glancing around at the green that surrounds them. General Mulligan notices her wandering gaze, his red hair being ruffled by the breeze. He takes a step toward them, his black tie slipping past his pressed buttoned dress shirt, and his sunglasses reflecting the yellow of the sun.
Alex, his fluffy ears perking up, turns toward the other Omega, tensing and leaning to cover his orange notebook with his new shirt. Gilbert, cutting off mid-sentence, noticing his brother's distress, snaps his head around to stare at the General, bearing his teeth and making a move to stand up. His Mother, after flashing her own teeth in a more ferocious warning at Jim, is quick to rest a hand on his knee, pushing down so that he sits once more.
"It is okay, honey. Jim is not a threat." Martha says, tail flicking.
Lafayette doesn't say anything, but his grip on his sandwich loosens, and he resumes his spot on Alexander's shoulder. He must have finished with his tales because he doesn't speak about it for the rest of the lunch. Alexander glances around with sharp, jerking motions, tail ruffling up against his mother's leg. The 12 year old sniffs the air, and seeming to find no threats, goes back to writing, taking a bite of his sandwich every couple of seconds.
The First Lady looks them over once before turning back toward the General. Jim is standing a few feet away, green eyes wide at the display the small French speaking boy put forth. Martha waves one hand when he steps closer again, trying to tell the other Omega that they don't need assistance without disturbing her children. Mulligan nods, red tail tucking against his leg as he steps back, continuing with his watch over the President's Pack.
The Omega takes a bite of her tuna sandwich, feeling a piece of celery crunch under her teeth, the tangy juice coating her tongue. Laf sips his tea, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, smiling sheepishly at the look his Mama sends him. Alex rolls his eyes, huffing out a laugh as he furiously scratches a few words off of his line covered paper, placing his half eaten sub on his thigh.
A puffy cloud covers the sun, casting the courtyard in shade for a few seconds. A plane passes overhead, the engine a smooth rumble that is gone as soon as it appears. Martha sits back, resting her head against the back of the bench. The scent of family fills her glands, George's musky smell clinging to each of their skin like the most comforting perfume.
Alexander shifts, and the First Lady cracks one brown eye open, looking his way just as Gilbert speaks.
"What are you writing, frere?"
The 12 year old freezes his hands mid-sentence, leg tapping a steady rhythm against the wet concrete. His brother seems to realize his fault, and tries to backtrack, looking quickly between Alex and his mom. Martha gently pats his hand, telling him to keep quiet while she comforts her youngest son.
The Omega seems fine at first glance, but upon further inspection, the First Lady notices the tightening of his jaw, and the tremble of his hands. His ears are pinned back, and tail swishing. Martha leans over, kissing his head, making the little boy tremble as he fights his anxiety.
"Je suis desole Alex! I didn't mean to make you scared!" Lafayette says, giving his younger brother a quick hug.
Alexander returns the gesture, face burning in shame as he squeezes Gilbert back with more force than needed, feeling tears fill his eyes at the sudden rush of emotion.
"It is okay, Laf. Je promets."
The 15 year old pulls back after a minute, a grin lighting up his face, before shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, cheeks puffing up like a chipmunk. Martha wrinkles her nose as Alexander laughs, pushing the older Omega away as he leans in for another embrace, jelly smeared across his mouth and nose.
"Eww Lafayette, you're so gross!"
"Shut up, baby brother! You know you love me."
The youngest Washington doesn't choose to respond, shaking his head at his sibling's antics as he starts to write again. The First Lady hands Gilbert a napkin, squinting against the bright sunlight as her son crumples the now dirty cloth in his fist. They don't talk for a while after that, instead listening to the sounds of the Hospital around them.
They are startled by Alexander's voice floating toward them, soft and rhythmic.
"Morning calls him
Eyes are bright
With knowing
In the beckoning light,
Turning reflective
At the token
Of a thought.
Wisdom has spoken
Through the wonder
In the eyes
Of a child;
Mark the prize
His own,
Within the reach of the sun,
If ever light
Is lost or won."
Martha starts, fur rising and goosebumps forming along her arms as she stares wide eyed at her baby. Gilbert grips her hand, seeming to understand how important this moment is for his brother. Even Jim, who crept closer when Alexander started speaking, seemed stunned, eyebrows raised above the black glass of his shades.
No one speaks, the only sound is the chirping of the birds as they fly from tree to tree. Alex, glancing between his Mommy and Laf, starts to shrink in on himself, seeming to take their silence as a rejection of some sort. Reaching over, the First Lady carefully cups both of his red cheeks in her soft hands, being mindful of the fading bruises that still cover his face. Kissing his head, right above his white bandages, Martha thanks whoever is watching over them for this moment.
"Alexander, sweetheart, that was. . ." Beautiful, amazing, precious. Martha can't describe the feeling she is experiencing right now, wishing with all of her heart that her Alpha was here to experience it.
"Dude, that was fantastique! So freaking cool!" Gilbert says, voice high pitched in excitement. His brows suddenly draw together in confusion as he realizes who wrote it. "Dawn Child. By Helen Baker Walker. We read that in school, but how did you-"
Alexander cuts him off, blushing again. "I might had stolen your English textbook for a few days while you were away at camp. I-I write from that a lot, that is what is mostly in here." He pats his notebook with one trembling hand.
Instead of looked offended, the older Omega grins cunningly, holding up his free hand for a high five, which his brother gently returns. Martha laughs, throwing away all of the trash from their lunch as Jim signals that it is almost time to leave. Giving a nod at the General, the First Lady suddenly turns back toward her youngest child.
"How did you remember the poem word for word, Alex?" She asks, tail-tip twitching as her curiosity grows.
The 12 year old shrugs, wincing slightly as his ribs burn at the movement. "I don't know, I just do. I can picture the words in my mind when I write, and they just come to me."
"Like magic!" Gilbert inserts, smiling smugly at the Harry Potter reference.
His brother nods, starting to close his notebook and cap his pen. After helping Martha catch a runway napkin, the Omega begins the short trek back to the room, his I.V. being pushed from behind him by a careful Mulligan, 2 more Agents leading the way in the front. Gilbert skips ahead a few times, but reluctantly stops running after a stern word from his Mama.
Right before they step back into the building, the 12 year old breathes in deeply, coating his senses with the smell of fresh air, trying to keep that scent with him until tomorrow. Next to him, Martha does the same, resting a hand on each of her children's shoulders as they step through the automatic doors. As they ride up the elevator for the 2 time that day, she asks Alex one final question.
"Why did you choose to copy that poem?"
Alexander seems to think about it for a while, and it isn't until they are back in the Hospital room, and behind the white curtain that he answers.
"Because it reminds me of who I used to be, and motivates me to try to become as close to that same person as I can." He slowly climbs back into bed, scooting over to make room for Lafayette. "It helps to chase the bad dreams away, like you and Daddy do."
The First Lady settles in beside her sons, reaching out an arm so that they are both covered. Gilbert, after diligently searching for a good 5 minutes, finally finds the remote at the foot of the bed. He turns the T.V. on, the theme song of Spongebob echoing off the cream colored walls. Out of the corner of her eye, the Omega sees Agents set up their posts outside the entrance flap. Jim, after some coaxing by the Female Omega, went home for a few hours to catch up with his own family, Alex telling him to say hello to Hercules for him.
With her child's words echoing in her ears, Martha watches a cartoon with her Pack Members, snuggled up close and bathed in the scent of family. She relaxes for the first time in days, wishing that George was here so they could be whole. Knowing that her mate would be home in a few hours, the First Lady curls tighter around her babies, resting her chin on top of Laf's bushy hair.
And for the time being, everything was calm and nothing was wrong. Martha just hoped it would stay that way, at least for a few more days.
One can only hope.
A/N: Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!:D
Translations:
Clafoutis: A FrenchDesert
frere: Brother
Jesuisdesole: I amsorry.
Je promets: I promise
fantastique: Fantastic
The poem used is called Dawn Child by Helen Baker Walker.