And Peggy

Inside the ward

Eliza's face crumples. Hamilton gulps and glances nervously towards his wife.

"You are welcome to come and see him. He has been asking for you." The male voice continues. But Alex is already putting on his travel cloak.

"Eliza, I'll go and see him first. I'll catch a ride with this man. Gather your things and maybe some of his together and get your carriage to take you to the hospital. Peggy, please accompany her and make sure she stays sane."
And with a swish of a cloak, he leaves for the carriage and I hear the footsteps of the strange man following him before I hear the door closing. Hannah enters the room. There are already two tears running down her face.

"I'll get your cloaks ready."
Eliza just nods numbly. She is silent. No tears make their way to her eyes. She's in shock. I have to bury all emotions. My sister needs me.

Five minutes later, when we hop into the carriage, the truth finally hits her and she breaks down. She shakes and cries and take big rattling breaths.

"My baby!" She cries over and over again. "My poor, sweet baby. What did he do wrong to deserve this?"

I pat her shoulder sympathetically.
"It's fine. The doctors will fix him. He'll be alright." I try to soothe her but what can you say to someone who's child is dying?

We arrive at the hospital and Eliza practically falls out of the carriage, then proceeding to stumble, as if drunk, toward the doors.

By the time I enter the building after gathering both of our cloaks. Eliza is banging on the reception desk, the lady looking panicked is flipping trough papers. I push past Eliza.
"Phillip Hamilton, please. I believe he has a bullet wound."

The woman's expression quickly turns to pity and she nods before leading us just outside a ward.
"He's in there. Unfortunately there is already a man in there so you'll have to wait. I have to say, it's not looking good for him." The lady explains sympathetically, laying a hand on my shoulder before returning to her desk.

Once she's gone though, Eliza springs out of the chair and launches herself at the door. She frantically turns the door knob and when that doesn't work, she puts all her weight against it, trying to force it open. She starts banging her fists on the door which turns to clawing.

"I'm his mother." She cries. "I have to see him. Let me see my son!"
The scene is so sad that I finally let out a few silent tears.
Finally, the door opens and a doctor steps out.

"You are the patient's mother?"

"Yes! Can i see him please?" She asks desperately.

The doctor nods solemnly and lets her in to see Phillip but when I stand to see him, the doctor closes the door, facing me.

"What is your relation to Phillip Hamilton?" The doctor asks.

"I'm his aunt." I answer. "Can I see him?"

"I'm sorry," the doctor say, ignoring my question. "The bullet entered just below his hip and lodged in his right arm. He lost a lot of blood. I don't think he's going to make it."

I hang my head, tears stream down my face. Phillip was like the son I never had.

"Do you know who shot him?" I ask.

The doctor nods. "He was duelling. Very dangerous business. His second came into the hospital with him. He told us it was Eacker. George Eacker."

I've never heard of him but I want to murder him for what he did to my nephew. To our family.

My thoughts are interrupted by a blood curdling shriek. Coming right from Phillip's room. The doctor rushes into the room and through the crack in the door, I can see three figures huddled over a fourth on the table.

No. Phillip can't. He just can't have- he'll sit up and start free-style poetry slamming just like he used to. Just like he will for the next sixty years.
The doctor rolls him over and it's John's face I see. The freckles. The smile. The mop of fluffy, curly hair. But then I blink and he's gone. In replace is a deathly white gaunt face. Glazed eyes that can't see. His last smile, not really smiling.
Phillip. John. Dead.
It's too much. I have to leave. But Eliza needs me. She's stuck in there with a dead son and a cheating husband.

From inside the room, I hear Eliza. Screaming. Pleading.
"Please, you can't take him. I have to stay with him. I'll take him home."

"Ma'am," comes the doctor's response. "We will fix up his body for burial and then return him home to you. His body will start to decompose but there are things we can do to make him look presentable for a funeral and stop him from smelling badly."

Alex, who has been silent all this time, grips Eliza's hand tightly and answers
"Do what you must. We would like to receive his body after you are done, thank you. Sorry the trouble." His voice breaks on "body" though.

The doctor nods and opens the ward door as Alex puts and arm around Eliza's shoulder and guides her out. And she lets him. So overcome by grief that she feels nothing and no one. Alex's face is blotchy, as if he is about to cry, as they emerge. He gives me a half hearted nod towards the door.

My feet, although numb like the rest of me, carry me towards the carriage. Alex will be riding with us.
There is silence apart from Eliza's sniffling. Alex still has his arm around her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry guys." Is all I can manage. Alex nods softly. I don't think Eliza even hears me.

I stare resolutely out the window. All the people outside having a completely normal, even good day when the atmosphere inside the carriage is heavier and sadder than the whole of New York.