Challenge response.
It started out as what he could only describe as isolated heat stroke. Various parts of his body got alternately hot or cold, by turns. Seeing as how this was Philadelphia in the summer, and there was a bit of a bug going round, he’d simply supposed it to be a cold or something else equally trivial.
Except it had gotten worse. He’d started having dreams. Strange dreams that left him sitting bolt upright in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat. He never could remember anything from the dreams except a flash of dark hair, or a glimpse of stormy blue eyes. Over worked, he supposed.
The final straw came when he had been having a perfectly ordinary conversation with Adams when he realized that whose eyes he had been seeing. He’d almost knocked over the poor man in his panic to leave. He must see a doctor. This was not, could not be normal.
“Mr. Jefferson?”
He jerked out of his mental reverie and stared at the doctor in front of him.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Jefferson, I can’t for the life of me find anything wrong with you. You seem to be in peak condition, with the exception of being a little stressed, but then, I suppose being in Congress would do that to any man.” The doctor smiled at him, inviting him to share in his amusement.
He forced a smile. “Yes. So, there is nothing wrong with me?”
The doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid not. My best advice is to get more sleep, and perhaps a glass of wine before bed.”
“I’ll do that.” He rose from the examining table and donned his coat. “Thank you for your time.”
“No trouble.”
As he left the office he spied Adam coming out the tavern. Quickly, he ducked into an alley, and flattened himself against a wall, hoping he hadn’t been spotted.
No such luck.
“Jefferson!” Adams crossed the street with his usual obnoxious, over-confident air. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.”
“Indeed?” He straightened his cravat nervously, avoiding Adam’s direct gaze.
“Yes, I’m planning quite an important speech in Congress tomorrow; I need you to look over it.” Adams dug in his coat pocket for a second before drawing out a crumpled piece of parchment. “Here.” He shoved the paper at Jefferson. “Just give it the once over. “ With that, Adams strode off.
Jefferson stayed pressed against the alley wall, trying to ignore the fact that his hand tingled where Adams had touched him. The doctor must have been mistaken. He glared at the paper Adams had given him before shoving it in his pocket. Abnormal, he thought angrily. Diagnosis, abnormal.
Except it had gotten worse. He’d started having dreams. Strange dreams that left him sitting bolt upright in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat. He never could remember anything from the dreams except a flash of dark hair, or a glimpse of stormy blue eyes. Over worked, he supposed.
The final straw came when he had been having a perfectly ordinary conversation with Adams when he realized that whose eyes he had been seeing. He’d almost knocked over the poor man in his panic to leave. He must see a doctor. This was not, could not be normal.
“Mr. Jefferson?”
He jerked out of his mental reverie and stared at the doctor in front of him.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Jefferson, I can’t for the life of me find anything wrong with you. You seem to be in peak condition, with the exception of being a little stressed, but then, I suppose being in Congress would do that to any man.” The doctor smiled at him, inviting him to share in his amusement.
He forced a smile. “Yes. So, there is nothing wrong with me?”
The doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid not. My best advice is to get more sleep, and perhaps a glass of wine before bed.”
“I’ll do that.” He rose from the examining table and donned his coat. “Thank you for your time.”
“No trouble.”
As he left the office he spied Adam coming out the tavern. Quickly, he ducked into an alley, and flattened himself against a wall, hoping he hadn’t been spotted.
No such luck.
“Jefferson!” Adams crossed the street with his usual obnoxious, over-confident air. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.”
“Indeed?” He straightened his cravat nervously, avoiding Adam’s direct gaze.
“Yes, I’m planning quite an important speech in Congress tomorrow; I need you to look over it.” Adams dug in his coat pocket for a second before drawing out a crumpled piece of parchment. “Here.” He shoved the paper at Jefferson. “Just give it the once over. “ With that, Adams strode off.
Jefferson stayed pressed against the alley wall, trying to ignore the fact that his hand tingled where Adams had touched him. The doctor must have been mistaken. He glared at the paper Adams had given him before shoving it in his pocket. Abnormal, he thought angrily. Diagnosis, abnormal.