Hamilton One-Shots

Do You Love Him

Alex's pen scratched over the paper, leaving black strokes of ink that one day he perhaps would have taken the time to make elegant. Now he hardly saw that need. He worked most every day, because America needed him. Getting their financial situation settled was only one of many things needed to accomplish if this new nation of theirs would survive for their children. That's what he wanted, he thought. To build a place that his son will receive and be able to build on. When he's long gone- perhaps more than just the government will grow.

"Alexander."

He turned around in his chair at a light knock and his name, sounds he knew well. He welcomed the sight of Eliza at the doorway of his office and he smiled, but it slowly faltered. She drew a calm yet sorrowful expression. She held a letter in hand and his chest sunk. He stood, walking towards her, expecting bad news. "What happened?"

She gently shook her head. She looked to him calmly, not looking away from his eyes. Alex would have felt intimidated if it were anyone else but the loving woman who stood in front of him. She lifted the letter in her hands. "I was sorting through some of your things," she started almost uncertainty "and came across some correspondences between you and-" she seemed to stumble for the right word to use. "John Laurens," she finally decided on.

Alex didn't say a single word, he didn't even think he refreshed his breath. When he finally spoke he could hear a slight tremor in his own voice. "How many have you read?"

Eliza didn't respond at first, as if she were hesitant to answer, like a child caught lying. "Several."

Alexander didn't meet her eyes. He didn't know what to say. What could he say to his wife? "Eliza," he said finally in a soft voice "I- I don't know what I should say." He felt his heart sinking in his chest, clenching a twisting in such a way that made him want to run from the room and never look back.

Eliza put the letter down and Alexander resisted the urge to take it and put it away safe and sound and pretend to the world that it did not exist, even though he would surely fall dead if it didn't.

"Alexander." She didn't take his hand, but her voice was quiet. "Alexander, please look at me."

He did so with great hesitance and found that it took great strength to hold tears from expelling from his eyes.

Her next words were spoken so carefully; as if said wrong, they would shatter glass. "Did you love him?" And they did.

He quickly turned away, walking back to his desk. "It's irrelevant." He put his hands on his desk, using it as a support that he desperately needed. "It doesn't matter."

"How is it irrelevant?"

He heard her approaching him, and he listened closely. He had no idea what she would say, only his worst fears.

"Alexander, look at me."

He quickly wiped at his eyes and turned around to face Eliza.

"There are so many letters, and so much in each of them," she said. "Not one word of it is irrelevant."

He felt his eyes tearing up and his chest tightening and he didn't know how long he could stay composed.

"Did-" she stopped and seemed to analyze Alexander for a moment, the same way he always looked over his writing. "Do you love John Laurens?"

He couldn't keep holding everything back after that. He looked away and couldn't quell the tears that fell down his cheeks. He fell back against the desk and startled the paper and jar sitting on its surface. He crossed his arms, trying to quell the tremor in his whole body and hid his face in his hand. Eliza stepped closer and put a hand on his arm. He looked up to her, his vision blurry for a moment. "Eliza, I don't- I don't know-" He couldn't figure out what to say. He was fumbling for words that he didn't have. Memories slid through his mind; fond memories of John and all the time they'd spent together, letters exchanged.

"You don't have to say anything," he said before he could try to say anything more. "Alexander, I love you, and I know you love me and Philip. But if there is someone else who has captivated your love more than any other- you cannot control that, and I wish that you did not have to hide it in fear of reprisals." He stared at her, her soft and calming face. She rested her hand under his cheek. "In another time, perhaps fate would have treated us differently."

A new stream of tears flooded over him. The aching in his chest had lessened, but still remained in a way he knew he would never be rid of. He fell into her arms, appreciating her more in that one moment than he ever had before. He stifled a sob as he tried to speak. "I'm sorry, Eliza."

"You have no need to be sorry."

"Daddy?" They both turned to the door to see Philip standing there with a concerned look on his face. "Why are you crying?"

Alexander tried to give a weak smile and crouched down, beckoning his son to join them. Philip walked into his father's arms and returned the warm hug that he welcomed.

"Why are you sad?" he asked again.

Alexander thought about his words carefully. "I was thinking of a friend of mine that is not here anymore."

Philip looked at him with all the innocence a young child could ever have. "Did you love him a lot?"

Alexander looked up to Eliza and saw her soft smile that, despite the tears still in his eyes, brought smile to him as well. He looked back to his son. "Yes. Yes, I loved him very much, Philip."

"It's okay," Philip said, giving him another hug. *"He's in Heaven now, right?"

Alex nodded. "Yes."

*alternate ending

*"John is okay. He loves you, too."

Alex froze. "What?" He looked at Philip. He must have meant something else. Eliza had come closer, Philip's words catching her off guard as well.

"He said so." He stopped suddenly, thinking of what to say next. "You and Mommy never see him, but I can see him. He's always here."

Alex stared at his son. He slowly spoke. "I don't understand." Alex felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, expecting to see Eliza's hand, but found she had knelt beside them, her hands in her lap.

Philip smiled. "See? He's right there."

Eliza put Philip to bed not too soon later. Alex tried to dismiss Philip's words, but it proved harder than one would first think. He sat beside the window, the moonlight shining upon him. He took a deep, ragged breath and expelled it from his chest. He let his eyes drift closed.

He felt a gentle touch and looked up, and he felt his heart stop. In front of him, leaning against the window sill, dressed in uniform and smiling. His hand was stretched out and against his cheek. Stories told of the deceased's touch as a cold that brings shivers over your skin, but John's touch was warm and brought Alex a comfort that he desperately needed.

He reached up to hold John's hand on his face, but his skin fell short of grasping John's hand as he so desired to. Perhaps he blinked, but the next moment, John had disappeared from his sight, and cried once more, simple tears that were finished by the time Eliza returned.