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When Eliza presses a sedative-filled hypo to her captain’s arm, the brief flash of horrified betrayal in his tired eyes doesn’t inspire even a tinge of regret. She carefully guides his slackening body to lay prone, resisting the urge to turn when Hamilton’s vehement, “Thank fucking god,” echoes in the cavernous dark around them.
“He’ll be out for awhile,” she announces, exchanging the empty hypo for a medical scanner from her kit. Passing the device over Washington’s still form doesn’t tell her anything she doesn’t already know from skin beaded with sickly sweat, the clutch of his hands against his stomach, the creases of a strong face drawn in pain. But it soothes her racing heart and gives her time to think, because as much as she adores Hamilton he never stops talking.
Even as she stands and retreats a few steps and tucks the scanner away—even as Hamilton takes her place and doesn’t take his eyes off Washington—he’s expounding on how clever she is, because now the captain doesn’t have to choose which one of them to send to certain death at the whims of the fucking monsters trapping them here, you know it’s the best idea for me to go with them, Eliza, you and the captain are irreplaceable, I can give you enough time to escape—
And god, she wants to scream at him. Take him by the shoulders and shake him and demand that he listen, for once, since obviously she’s failed as a friend and as his CMO if he’s so insistent on jumping headlong off every damn ledge that appears in front of him.
Instead, she paces silently. At a soft rustle of fabric she glances up long enough to see Gem—their enigmatic fellow captive—lay a delicate hand on Hamilton’s shoulder. Hamilton startles as his eyes fly to Gem, but he just as quickly goes back to staring at Washington. Only Eliza sees the beatific, enraptured expression that morphs Gem’s gentle face.
If the situation weren’t so dire Eliza would laugh; Hamilton and Washington think they’re being subtle, when the entire senior staff (and most of the rest of the crew, if she were a gambling woman) know they’ve been in a relationship for over a year now. She can guess what Gem is feeling, with her empathic powers: Hamilton’s boundless love, tangled with the hero worship-turned-admiration. Devotion so single-minded and intense that Eliza can’t comprehend how Washington can handle it all—
“We’re stronger than they are,” she hears, a vivid memory of a familiar voice in her ear. “The captain and Alex.”
She closes her eyes and she sees it. Sees her. Angelica, splayed out over the bed. Delightfully nude, radiant in the glow of their intimacy. Angelica’s chin rests in her hand as Eliza snuggles close, stroking Angelica’s soft skin.
“I mean it. We’d be able to live without each other, if the worst happened. Obviously I don’t want to… I never want to.” Angelica leans in, brushes her warm lips against Eliza’s cheek. “I know you love me enough to live for me, sweet sister. I would do the same for you.”
Eliza shivers. “The price for loving a healer. ‘Do no harm’ doesn’t always mean me.”
“I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
—and the comprehension that does hit Eliza then in a stomach-churning lurch, blinding as the light that strikes her eyes as soon as she opens them, is the certainty she won’t be making it out of here alive.
I’m sorry, Angelica, she thinks, as loudly as she can; if there’s any justice to the universe, her sister will feel her this last time. I can’t let Alex die, not when I can stop it.
Eliza looks across the room. Hamilton is turned away, back bowed and burdened and tense. Absorbed now with his tricorder in one hand, his other hand carefully curled around Washington’s forearm.
She won’t get another chance.
She reaches quietly into her bag and tucks her last sedative hypo into her hand. Takes a breath.
Walks toward Hamilton, footfalls steady and sure.
I can’t wait to see you again, love.