Hamilton One Shots

Last Breaths

Requested by: atotalfandommess

Almost two years had passed since the first president of the newly claimed nation served his term. The wonders of America only continued to grow and inspire other countries in every way, with such independent spirits. It seemed the country was getting along quite well, especially without a monarchy ruling.

But far away from the madness of politics and war, in a more southern location, Washington stared out over the acres of land that he called his home. The land surrounding his estate could only be seen as fields for miles and miles, covered in a blanket of white.

After a long time of getting used to the liveliness of his home again, George reserved time to receive letters and discuss some politic matters with previous friends, who ventured out from the city. Each of them warned him of the actions of the president in term, but he politely shrugged that off.

His time in the field and office was done. No matter how much anyone tried to irritate him with the thought of an unsteady army or presidency, he managed to change the subject and show them the bright side of things.

On this one particular evening, as he poised himself momentarily on the porch, Washington shivered at the frigid winds that whipped and trashed him back and forth. Summer seemed to be a distant season, compared to the risks of the winter weather. How he wished for it to come every single day.

Stumbling inside, he let one of his servants take off his coat. The man noticed his chilling expression and questioned him. "Sir, are you feeling alright?"

Washington coughed in reply, waving his hand in a gesture before he said, "Only a cough and itching in my throat. Otherwise, all is well." He couldn't help but stagger at the sound of his own weakened voice. Nodding to the slave, he headed into the dining room.

Already at the table, his wife sighed upon seeing his dampened clothes and shaking figure. "Oh my, you're soaking!" She raised a hand politely over her mouth, chewing some food. "You must change, George, I insist-"

"No, I'm already late as it is," he gruffly answered. Martha stayed silent as he pulled back a chair, taking his place at the dining table. Beginning to gobble up some of the meal, he tried to show both his wife and the servants just how well he truly was.

Only deep down inside, something didn't feel right, and he couldn't understand what.

Later that evening, Washington strolled in circles around his room, completely unable to occupy himself. Fingers drumming over the wooden surfaces of the walls, his mind wandered into unnecessary reminders of the past he once lived.

Only a few weeks prior, Alexander arrived, clearly in a desperate state. It had come to the older man's knowledge that he managed to become involved with some other woman, resulting in a loss of trust from many. Despite that, the young man had come to discuss other matters of their past together.

"Jefferson never once had a moment of silence in that cabinet, I had to drag him out-"

Holding onto the edge of his chair, George had chuckled loudly. "You needn't remind me of the many times that the both of you bickered until I had to throw you out." He suddenly let out a groan and clutched the side of his chair tighter.

Alexander, looking both frightened and confused, had rushed to his side. Washington recalled the softened glow in his eyes, like a lost child, who couldn't seem to figure out what to do first. "Old age, son. Even the best of us have to face it sometime." He had patted the man on the back firmly.