A/N: Here is Chapter 15! Sorry for not updating in a while, was being dumb and wouldn't let me upload this Chapter *sigh* but it's all good now! I hope you enjoy this Chapter:)
Disclaimer: I do not own Hamilton: An American Musical.
When he arrives back at the Hospital, his feet aching and eyes tired, the puddles of water that laid across the grass are non-existent. The sun is falling slowly west, its golden glow casting long shadows on the concrete as it soaks up the remaining liquid like a sponge. George sighs as he steps through the automatic doors, watching his team of Agents check around every corner before he is even close to it. The Hospital staff gaze at him with a mixture of envy and awe, ears perking up and noses lifting high into the air.
They arrive at the elevator with no interruptions, the red tinged UP button getting pressed by a blonde Service Member, his tail twitching. The President steps into the small room once it arrives, trying to hide his grimace at the smell of the Prison he knows coats his skin and clothes. He just hopes to make it into the bathroom before Martha notices.
That hope is ruined, however, as soon as he steps into the covered portion of the room. Breathing deeply, the Alpha is happy to note that his scent is still hanging in the air, the breathe knocking out of him when a warm body launches itself at his middle. Wrapping his arms around Gilbert, George buries his face in his oldest son's bushy hair as the Omega snuggles closer. Looking up, the President watches with warm eyes as Alexander slowly limps closer, Martha walking a few paces behind him in case he falls.
The First Lady wrinkles her nose at the small that assaults her senses once she gets closer, narrowing her brown eyes at her Husband. Alex steps into the embrace of his Daddy and brother, feeling his nerves suddenly spike at the disgusting scent that fills his nose. He quickly scoots back, his still bruised face heating up in embarrassment when he catches his father's eye, while Laf crinkles his brows in confusion.
"What's wrong, Alex?" The French speaking boy asks, the setting sun turning his wild hair aglow.
"I don't know, Daddy just smells funny." The 12 year old says, his bony shoulders lifting in a shrug as he takes a few hesitate steps backwards.
George gives a awkward laugh, reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he meets his wife's searching eyes. "Yeah, I-uh- really need to get a shower."
Gently pushing Gilbert's away from him, the President gently kisses both his and Alexander's foreheads, reaching out to wrap his arms around his mate. Martha squeezes back, nostrils flaring as she sniffs his neck. Kissing her lips, he turns away quickly, stepping toward the bathroom.
He grabs his folded night clothes from the dresser, untying his tie as he walks, feeling guilt simmer in his stomach for the millionth time that day as his Omega begins to set up the T.V. for the movie. Alexander and Lafayette sit beside her on the bed, the youngest of the two almost immediately grabbing his notebook and opening it to a blank page. His movements are somewhat frantic, as though he has to many thoughts and not enough ink in his pen.
Closing the oak door behind him, George sighs as he turns the light on, the brightness illuminating the dark circles under his eyes as he steps closer to the shower. Opening the yellow curtain, the Alpha turns on the faucet, the warm mist created rising above the rack of towels. Tugging off his clothes, George steps into the spay, the tension that is held in his body since meeting with Lee melting out of his bones like butter.
He tries not to think about what went on in the Interrogation Room, a tiny shiver of fury suddenly cooling the water that runs down his back. But he forces the anger back, and, grabbing the bottle of body wash on the counter, begins to wash the stink of Lee and the Prison from his body. As he scrubs, the memories that the criminal unknowingly pushed to the front of his mind flash before his eyes. Blinking rapidly, the President snarls, ear perking up as a soft tap at the door catches his attention.
"Come in." He calls, Martha's scent rising to his nose as she steps into the bathroom.
She closes the door once again, peeking her head out to check on her children one last time before it clicks shut.
"Where were you today, George?" She asks him as soon as he opens the curtain, her eyes brazing and fur standing on end.
The President steps out of the tub, drying his now clean body with the white towel hanging on the hook. He tugs on his underwear and gray pants, before turning to face his enraged mate.
"Baby-" he tries, but she cuts him off, tail snapping behind her as she stomps closer to him.
"Don't you 'baby' me, George Washington! Now I might not be the President of the United States, but I know for a fact that a Congress meeting does not smell like cigar smoke and anger."
The Alpha opens and closes his mouth, lifting his cotton shirt over his head as he searches for an answer. The First Lady shifts impatiently, running one hand through her dark hair as she waits for an explanation.
"I was at a meeting," George finally says, lowering his head in shame as he speaks. "But. . . it wasn't with Congress."
Martha doesn't speak, and when the Alpha looks up from his sulking, her face is cherry red and brown eyes slit in fury. She clenches her fists, and walking in short bursts, stands in front of the mirror. Turning on the tap, she rinses her face, drops of water landing on her purple night shirt. Her face, when she looks back at her still gasping mate, is a mixture of disappointment and anger. George takes a hesitant step toward her, reaching out and wraps his arms around her waist. She doesn't react, doesn't pulls away or lean closer, and the President wishes she would do something.
"You lied to me." Martha says quietly, voice soft and strained. "You lied to me, George."
The Commander tightens his arms, pressing his lips against the top of her head, her shampoo scent filling his nose.
"I know, and I'm sorry." He says against her hair. She grips his arms, her claws digging into his skin with a small pinch. "But I could not let you come with me."
"What do you me-"
"They caught Lee earlier this morning."
His Omega suddenly pulls back, eyes widening and tail curling up. "What?! George, that is amazing! Why the hell didn't you tell me earlier?"
The Alpha shakes his head, grabbing his toothbrush from the bag on the counter as he speaks.
"You would have wanted to come with me, to see for yourself the bastard that violated our child. I couldn't have that, Martha."
George snarls silently, and his wife, seeming to forget her anger in return for an explanation, leans closer. Gently taking the plastic brush that her Husband has clutched in his fingers, she encourages him to continue.
"But I could have handled him." She protests, setting the blue brush near the now turned off faucet. George bristles, turning sharply around to face her, reaching out and grasping her waist again. "Wha-"
"No! I will not let you go anywhere near that-that-" he can't even finish that sentence, his wolf vibrating under him skin at the very thought. "He is a disease, a virus, and I cannot even think about letting you or the pups anywhere near him or his mate. I don't doubt your strength, honey. I doubt my power to control myself if he even looked at you wrong!"
The President is grasping by the end of his small speech. Martha, anger completely forgotten, shifts closer toward his chest, offering comfort. Neither of them speak for a few minutes, ears twitching at the sound of the previews playing on the television outside, laughter fallowing soon after. Sniffing the air, George is relieved to scent his boy's content and happy smells flowing through the crack in the door.
"I understand, George." The First Lady finally whispers, ears falling against her hair and tail entwining with her Alpha's. "I know you were just trying to look out for me and our sons."
The Commander nods, breathing a sigh of relief as she finally understands, kissing her forehead. Her voice suddenly hardens, and she leans back, eyes serious.
"But if you ever lie to me again, I am going to make the couch look like a freaking paradise."
Chuckling, the Alpha squeezes her waist once again before stepping away. He quickly begins to brush his teeth, but stops after his stomach growls. Martha smirks, leading them out of the bathroom without protest. Alex and Lafayette perk up when they spot them, the artificial light from the movie illuminating their faces as they turn around.
"Nurse Steve brought us popcorn!" Alex chirps, holding out a red bowl filled to the brim with the yellow grain, steam rising up and fogging the air around his head. "And some dinner for Daddy."
Taking the plate of pasta from Gilbert, the President slips into bed beside his kids, Martha climbing in on the other side.
"We already ate." The First Lady answers her mate's silent question, and George huffs, satisfied that his Pack is well fed. He begins to dig into the meal with vigor.
The cot groans, sagging slightly against the weight of all of them combined, but George knows he could not lay by himself right now, not after what he went through today. He knows that it will haunt his dreams tonight and for many more nights to come. But for now, he is content and smiles on the knowledge that his family is together and safe.
Taking a bite of the noodles, the red sauce burning his tongue, the Commander settles down to watch Zootopia with his Pack.
When his eyes snap open a few hours later, the first thing he registers is a bright white light that sends a sharp pain through his head. Untangling his arm from Martha's, the President rubs his burning coronas with shaking hands, feeling nausea fizzle in his stomach. Sitting up slowly, George glances around, senses still on high alert after his dream.
A bowls filled with popcorn kernels sits crookedly on the nightstand, the remains of the movie night seeming to rest with a content sigh. Once the end credits had played, and all trash thrown out, both teens had fallen asleep almost instantly, toothpaste still resting in the corner of Gilberts mouth from sluggishly brushing his teeth, Alexander's hair still wild from his halfhearted brushing. Martha had let it slide just this once, yawning as she turned around. She was sleep in minutes, their son's followed soon after.
Blinking his eyes, the President tries to recollect himself from his vivid dream.
Nightmare. His mind supplies, and the Alpha flinches at the images that assault his inner eye once again.
A young man, dark eyes wide beneath his rusty helmet, seen though sand crusted eyes. A raised gun. A bang. Red blossoms like a flower on his chest, hand curling up to claw at the wound. Gasping for air, like a fish. He falls. George stands over him blocking the raging sun. The Alpha's mouth opens and closes in a silent apology. No words escape. A last breathe. Cold silence. The smell of death. George's eyes blurred by tears that the he tries to hide from his Officers. No, no please, don't- I didn't want to do this, I didn't want-
Shaking his head at the memories, the Commander is startled to find Alexander watching him from his bed, hand positioned above his open notebook. The source of the yellow light, a small lamp resting beside his heart machine, cast half his face in shadow. The whites of his eyes glow in the pocket of darkness.
"Daddy?" The Omega whispers, voice raspy, "Are you okay?"
The questions is so innocent that George almost laughs, holding up his hand to halt his baby's movements to climb out of bed. Pointing to Gilbert resting beside the 12 year old, the Alpha is pleased to see him ease back into his pillow once more.
"I'm fine, Alex." The President lies, trying hard to fight the trembling in his hands, taking a glance at his peacefully sleeping wife beside him. "What are you doing up, sweetheart?"
Glancing down at his lap, the Omega fiddled with his thumbs, licking his lips as his face heats up. His dark ears, once peeked up in interest, now fall back against his head.
"I-uh- couldn't sleep. Kept having nightmares about h-him. . ."
George sighs, propping his pillow behind his head, trying to send soothing waves toward his troubled child. "Do you dream of him often?"
"Every night." Wiping at his eyes, Alex starts to write again, pen scratching at the paper with renewed vigor. His tail shifts underneath him. "I am just so scared, Daddy."
"Of what, love?"
"That he will come back, and take me again."
Feeling his heart break, the President slips out of his and Martha's bed, the tile floor cool against his feet as he walks over to his now crying son. Climbing in beside him, the Alpha gathers Alex in his arms, rocking them from side to side. Careful not to disturb Laf, George pulls back to wipe away the stray tears leaking from his youngest child's dark eyes. He growls soothingly.
"They caught him, Alexander." George whispers against his baby's hair, feeling more then seeing the gasp of shock that hits his chest. More liquid soaks his shirt, tears of happiness falling from the Omega's eyes for the first time in months. "You don't have to worry about that monster anymore, honey."
Cupping Alex's red cheeks in his large hands, the President gently catches every tear with his thumb as he shakes his own horrors off to help his little boy.
"You are free."
Alex sighs, his warm breath landing on his father's chest as he snuggles closer. His grip on his notebook slacks for the first time that night, his pen slipping out of his hand and landing on the blanket. George carefully places both items on the table next to the lamp. Taking a second to look once more at his quietly snoring mate a few feet away, the Alpha turns off the lamp, the snap of the switch sounding a split second before the room is cast in darkness.
Running his fingers through Alexander's hair, the President listens to the combined breathing of all 4 of them, their scents intermixing to create an aroma that makes the wolf inside of George shiver in happiness. The half-moon shines through the slightly opened window, creating enough light for the Commander to see the rising and falling of their chests. Turning to the opening of the curtain, the Alpha listens to the routine sound of his Agents changing guard for the night, one complaining about the bitter taste of Hospital coffee.
Shifting down into the sheets, George curls his body protectively around both of his children, feeling Gilbert curl up against his back. Blinking slowly, the President deliberately clears his mind, trying to not think about his nightmare and the memories trying to break free. He doesn't fall asleep for an hour or more, the only indication of the passage of time being the slow rising of the Moon.
When his eyes finally slip shut, when the dark, red stained eyes of his first kill are no longer staring at him through the blackness of his own thoughts, the last thing that flashes through George's mind is the feeling that the news of Lee's capture is going to help Alex for the better.
No matter how many nightmares the criminal causes George in the process.
A/N: Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!:D