Chapter 12

Aaron Burr didn't know what to think when he heard that Hamilton was sick. While he had seemed a bit harried the day before, he hardly seemed ill. He decided to go check on him, if only to satisfy his curiosity. When he got to the tent he poked his head in and saw a lump on one of the cots.

"Hamilton?" Burr asked quietly. He didn't expect the violent jerk from under the blanket.

"Get the fuck out of here," a deadly whisper eminated from the bed.

"Fine, excuse me for checking on you."

"You've done enough." Again, the familiar comment gave him pause, but his frustration won out, and he left the ill man to himself.

Once Burr had left, Alexander let out a pained sigh. His whole body throbbed and stung. He couldn't help but be thankful that Washington had let him stay in bed, though he didn't really have a choice. He was bleeding sluggishly and he was barely fighting off a fever, only avoiding infection because of the alcohol the general would periodically clean him with. George was almost kind to him now, probably because he had taken his punishment and now the man felt some sick sense of remorse for being so brutal to his "pet."

Alex missed Laurens. His cute laugh and adorable smile filled his memory on bad days. His touch ghosting over his skin on good days. He refused to let those memories be tarnished by his predicament now. George would not take those from him. Luckily John was far away with another battalion, working further south. Hamilton didn't know what would happen when they saw each other again. Lafayette had left for France over a month ago, and Mulligan was back as a tailor's apprentice, getting vital information. He couldn't help but think that this would be so much harder if they were here with him. He missed their support, but he didn't want them near this tragedy. To see him this way. To know. Especially not John. His sweet John. He didn't let his letters to any of them let on to the inner turmoil he was experiencing. And he dared not tell them what the general was doing to him. No, their deal was one he had kept, no matter what the man thought had happened with Burr. He would never tell another soul, that is something he would make sure of. He shuddered to think of what would happen to his friends if they knew. Alex would keep all of this close to his chest.

Days passed following the same pattern. Once Alex was out of the woods for getting a fever, the general started bringing his work to him in bed out of necessity. There was so much to do. He was glad for that though, it helped to keep his mind on work. However, with work came pleasuring George, and that was something he could do without. But he knew it could be worse. At least it kept him warm. Alex was strong, this he knew, and he was going to be fine, as long as he was careful about the rules. As things picked up there was talk of a siege across the Delaware. His face had yet to heal, as well as some of the deeper wounds across his torso and legs.

"Sorry, son."

He was unfit to go. One of the most exciting things to happen and he was stuck answering letters in a chilly tent. Worst Christmas ever.