Madison's p.o.v
We followed Franklin down a whiter-than-white corridor. Thomas lagged behind a bit, and I lagged behind with him because hey, that's my kick-ass husband and I love him to death!
"I hate these crutches," he muttered angrily, and I still don't know to this day if he was talking to me, as the click-clack of the crutches echoed through the corridor. Franklin was way ahead at this point, and I nodded along with my husband.
"Hopefully you shouldn't need them for much longer," I replied in a hushed voice, watching Franklin stop and turn into a room. We followed as fast as we could.
The room was pretty bare. A hospital bed in a white suit, dirty white walls and an ugly fake wood bedside table, it was the very essence of Dullsville. There was an ensuite, though.
Thomas looked around the room, crestfallen. Balancing the crutches against the wall, he staggered over to the bed, denying any help me or Franklin offered him. Collapsing upon it, he sat there shaking for a few seconds before saying quietly,
"I'd like to be alone with James, please."
Franklin nodded and backed out respectively, me watching him all the way.
I turned back to Tom, and I was surprised to see him staring the wall down. His face had a vacant expression, and his eyes were a little glazed over.
"Thomas?" I said as loudly and as cautiously as I dared, kneeling down in front of him. He looked up at me and the glazed look disappeared as he smiled when he saw my face.
"You're so beautiful, you know that?" he said, his voice dreamy. I blushed furiously, looking down at the floor.
"You're not too bad yourself," I teased as I went over and sat next to him, letting him rest his head on my shoulder as I sat next to him on the bed. The floor was cold. He sighed heavily in a world-weary sort of way, raising his eyes towards the ceiling as if praying to some deity.
"Do you know how much I hate this shit?" he said, his hand balling into a fist on his knee.
"Yeah," I replied, curling my legs up on the bed. The bed was nice and warm, and me and Thomas were in a weird-ass position, me curled up super-small and Thomas with his head half-on my shoulder, half-on my head.
I hadn't slept much the night before. I'd stayed up thinking about our future child. Would our New York apartment be big enough? Would we move back to Virginia? Would we get our own house in the suburbs (God knows we could afford one) or would we raise our kids in the heart of New York City?
"Do you want me to stay here with you?" I asked, stifling a yawn.
"It's up to you," he replied faintly, lifting his head off mine. Looking up at him, I saw him holding a hand to his head, groaning softly to himself. Giving him a sympathetic look, I gently helped him into the bed, kissing the top of his head before shutting out the lights and slipping out of the room.
Franklin was waiting outside for me, leaning casually on the wall.
"He's asleep," I said, closing the door as quietly as I could. "I wouldn't disturb him for a couple of hours, he usually gets a killer headache."
"You should head home," Franklin told me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Get some sleep."
"B-but..." I stuttered, trailing off when Franklin gave me a look. Pouting a little, I rubbed the back on my neck sheepishly. "Okay, but tell Thomas where I've gone, and tell him I'll be back by 3. Oh, and when he wakes up, he'll be hyper. Don't give him any sugar, like at all, and, um, and make sure he does what he's told. He's-"
"Don't worry," Franklin said kindly, smiling at me. "He'll be fine."
He paused for a moment, chuckling. "You'll make a great dad."
Stunned, I nodded shakily, turned on my heel and marched out of the hospital.
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Knocking on Peggy's door, I stamped my feet up and down, trying to introduce some warmth into my feet. It was the start of April, after all, and it was still a little cold.
The door was flung open and I was surprised to be faced with Hamilton, his son Philip wound around his leg.
"James?" he said, sounding confused. "Why are you here alone? Where's Thomas? You okay?"
"Thomas is in the hospital-" I said, about to go on, but Alexander gasped and called into the room:
"THOMAS IS IN THE HOSPITAL!"
There was a collective gasp and Peggy, Eliza, Laf, Herc and Maria's faces appeared and someone pulled me into the room. They were all talking, asking what had happened.
"Silence!" I yelled, and everyone shut their gobs. "Look, he's fine, it's just for observation. We went in for the scan, eveything looks fine, heard the heartbeat-"
Everyone awwwwed. "Then he projectile-vomited everywhere and they said they needed to keep him in for observation."
They all nodded solemnly, except the two little ones who were playing with a plastic fire engine in the corner.
"I don't wanna go home," I sniffed. "It feels empty without Thomas there."
The girls and Laf cooed, sweeping me into a hug.
"Aw, darling," Eliza said, cupping my face in her hands as the others dispersed. "Are you okay?"
"Little tired, actually," I replied. That was an understatement. I was utterly exhausted and about ready to drop.
"Bedroom's in the back!" Peggy called over the room. I nodded in thanks and trudged into the bedroom, flopping onto the bed and falling asleep almost instantly.
3 hours later- Jefferson's p.o.v
I blinked a couple of times before scrunching my eyes shut, the bright white lights hurting my eyes. I've never quite understood why hospitals have such harsh lights when they mainly house sick people who don't like bright lights. It doesn't make any sense!
I could hear people whispering around me, but I groaned deeply and rolled onto my side away from them, stubbornly keeping my eyes shut.
"Thomas? You awake?" a voice, someone I didn't recognise said from behind me. I didn't reply, just shielded my eyes and opened them a little. Turns out the person was a woman, and she was stood in front of me, smiling down at me. I fought the urge to stick my tongue out at her like a petulant child.
"What?" I mumbled.
"Sorry to wake you up like this, but we're ready to start tests now," she said, smiling brightly at me. I didn't smile back. I was, thank God, still in my own clothes, and I hauled myself out of bed, twice trying unsuccessfully to get off the bed to reach my crutches. Feeling ashamed, I held out my hand for them. She passed them to me.
"Where's James?" I asked suddenly as we made our way slowly down the corridor. "He was here when I went to sleep."
She looked down at her clipboard, studied it for a moment and then looked back at me.
"Dr Franklin said to tell you that he told James to go home and that James will be back by 3."
A quick glance at my watch told me that it was already quarter past 1.
We walked in silence, and as we did so, my anxiety soared. Why had Franklin told James to go home? Was he sick? Theories ran amock as we entered a small consultation room. Franklin was sat in a chair, and he swivelled around to face me like a villain in a Bond movie.
"Thomas, how do you feel?" he asked warmly, gesturing for me to sit down. I did so.
"You saw me like 3 hours ago," I replied. "I'm fine."
"O-"
"Why did you send James home?" I blurted before I could stop myself. "Did you even send him home? Did he leave? Why didn't he stay with me? What time-"
"Don't worry, I sent him," Franklin cut in, chuckling. "It's cute that you two are so concerned about each other. He looked tired."
I tried to smile as I nodded. Franklin gave a small nod before pulling out a large rubber band, a specimen jar and a big needle. A very big needle. If my memory serves me correctly, the actual needle was about 2-and-a-half inches long and was glinting menacingly at me. I couldn't help but shuffle backwards a little, shuddering.
Okay, so maybe the fear of needles isn't very manly, but it's a valid fear! It's called trypanophobia and affects millions, perhaps billions of people around the globe. The mere thought of some stranger stabbing me with a piece of metal which could very well be infected by some horrible disease which could very well kill me just makes my skin crawl. Great, look, now I'm shuddering.
Anyway, Franklin gave me a strange look as he prepped the needle, beckoning for my arm. I shook my head, terrified. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Thomas, please don't be difficult," he said exhasperatedly, with just a hint of pleading in his voice. "I have had a very long day and I am not in the mood for it."
For some reason, his harsh tone got to me, making a lump form in my throat and tears prick my eyes. I looked down, convulsively trying to swallow the lump as I brought my knees to my chest and nuzzled my face into a soft, fluffy material of my sweatpants. Franklin must've noticed that I was trying not to cry (well it was pretty goddamn obvious) as he gibbered uselessly for a few seconds before clearing his throat and trying to apologise.
"I'm just a bit scared of needles," I said hoarsely, my voice sodden with tears.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"James was there. I never feel scared when James is around."
He smiled softly and picked up the phone.
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Hope you enjoyed! Sorry for the wait!