Disclaimer: I don't own Hamilton. Or history.
A month after Philip Hamilton's death, Angelica came to her sister and brother-in-law's new home uptown and knocked on the door.
Alexander opened the door. He was wearing all black, and his face was pale and hollow-looking. He stared at her with only a faint glimmer of acknowledgement, as if nothing she could say could hurt him any more than he was already hurting.
"Eliza told me that she forgives you," said Angelica. "So I do too."
"Forgives me?" Alexander asked blankly. "For what?"
"For the affair, of course," Angelica said harshly, then backed off. She realized that that must seem like a lifetime ago to him.
"The affair," Alexander repeated. "The affair is nothing. You think Eliza was still angry about that? Angelica - I killed my son."
"That's ridiculous," said Angelica. "The only person to blame for Philip's death is George Eacker."
"No," said Alexander. "It was my honor he was defending. I knew about the duel beforehand, and I didn't try to stop it. I gave him the pistols, I told him to aim at the sky… I encouraged him, not that he needed it. Eliza knows it, the children know it…"
"That's not true," said Angelica, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Nobody blames you."
"Shut up!" Alexander shouted, so loudly that Angelica jumped back. "I'm sorry, it's just - you don't know what it's like to lose a child, really lose one. When they're babies, you half expect it, but when they're nineteen… you know them. You think they're safe. You think they're set for life, and then…"
"Philip was my nephew," Angelica protested, but deep down she knew Alexander was right. It wasn't the same to lose a child at one and at nineteen. How would she react if her own Philip died? And it wasn't like she had been close to her nephew - they had lived on opposite sides of the Atlantic, and only saw each other a few times over the course of nearly two decades.
"Right," said Alexander. "And it's my fault he's dead. That hurt Eliza more than a thousand public affairs could. If you're going to hate me, Angelica, do it for the right reason."
"I told you, I'm here to forgive you," Angelica said.
"What good is that," said Alexander, "when I can't forgive myself?"
"I don't know," said Angelica. "But it's all I've got."
Alexander threw his arms around Angelica, and she cried the tears that he couldn't cry anymore. It was the first time they had really embraced - not as would-be lovers, but as brother and sister, as friends. Alexander and Eliza had shared something profound, something she could never understand or imagine. She could no longer envy their happiness, but she could help them through their pain. And this time, she would stay.
