My Darling Flower [Alexander Hamilton x Female Reader] (Under Revision)

61. The Siege of Yorktown, V

He pulls away and Y/N lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Hold on. I'm not done," he stops her from moving.

"No wonder it didn't hurt," she mutters.

The nurse hands her a bottle of rum, "We didn't have any the other day because of the wounded from the redoubts, but we just got some fresh from our allies. Should take the edge off."

"Thank you," she murmurs, raising the open bottle to her lips and quickly taking a big sip.

"Not getting shot would also take the edge off," the doctor quips.

"Mm, I can't really help that, Doctor."

She grunts in pain when she feels him begin stitching her wound again.

The bottle finds its way back to her lips.

She uses her free hand to grip the side of the bed before wincing at the pain in her shoulder and letting go.

"General...!" she hears just before she cries out. "His Excellency's here."

She doesn't respond, but the soldier takes the hint and leaves, passing by General Washington and saluting to him.

"Y/N-" George's eyes widen before he catches a glimpse of Jack.

He stays silent a moment, "Dear God..."

Y/N doesn't look up at him, resting her forehead against the bed.

Y/N blinks away her tears when the doctor finally pulls away.

Her father was at her side, but, thankfully, was more focused on Jack.

She takes a moment to ground herself, forcing the pain down.

The nurse comes by, tenderly beginning to wrap her wound.

"Wrap her arm as well. If she doesn't move it, she's less likely to pull them again," the doctor orders.

Y/N stares blankly at an empty part of the tent.

"General?" the doctor calls.

She takes a long moment, but her eyes slowly make their way to him.

"Are you feeling well?"

She frowns, wincing when the nurse bends her arm to her chest.

"As well as I can be..."

She uses her free hand to rub her eyes before turning to her father, "Your Excellency. I'm sorry. I sent for you as soon as he collapsed. I-"

"None of that. You did what anyone would have done. You did good. What's wrong with him, doctor?" George looks up from where he was taking his son's appearance in.

The doctor purses his lips, adjusting his glasses.

"As I told General Washington..." he gestures to Y/N.

"... who told me of his symptoms outside of the physical. Nausea, fatigue, malnourishment... I am forced to conclude that Mr. Custis has camp fever, Your Excellency."

George turns back to the unconscious Jack and takes his hand.

Camp fever had spread like wildfire in camp. Nobody seemed safe.

How could he have let his children anywhere near this battle?

How could he have ever approved? They both had small children. Jacky's eldest daughter was barely five years old.

He knew the conditions of his camp. The disease, the lack of resources, the horrid housing conditions... he knew it all.

George takes a deep breath before asking, "What now, then, doctor?"