She's crying. He unlocks the door, and it's the first thing he sees: hugging her knees to her chest on the dining room chair, a red blanket wrapped around her, tears flowing with no apparent end. He's by her side in a second.
"What's wrong?"
"Why did you have to throw it all away?"
"What?"
"The greatest burden is a story untold, Alexander, but your burden is the stories you're telling. Was it really that important to you? Did you just have to reply to that stupid tweet?"
"Sweetheart- I can explain- if you just tell me what this is about?" I know I don't deserve you, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fuck up- again, please, don't leave me.
She practically thrusts the phone screen in his face- the thread detailing the conversation that led up to the fact that he'd be meeting Burr at Weehawken Alley tomorrow at dawn, fists bared, to settle this once and for all.
"I had to do something- I couldn't just let him get away with saying you were sleeping with a teacher to get your scholarship!"
"Alex, this is beneath you- do you think he actually believes that? Do you think anyone does? The people who never would have seen it anyway if you hadn't replied? Because the school sure doesn't, my friends don't, and that's all that matters for now. Don't you know the terms of your scholarship?"
"Of course I do, I-"
"No fighting, Alexander! You could be expelled for this!"
"He won't tell- he won't be speaking a lot after tomorrow- I'll punch him in the mouth, that should shut him up."
"Alex! You're an absolute idiot sometimes, you know that? You wrote your way out- and for what? To throw away your shot at changing the system before you even graduate?"
She's right. She's always right.
"I'm sorry." It's a whisper, an admittance of defeat, complete surrender- something that he'll only give her. "What do I do?"
"You call it off. And you stay off twitter. If you desperately need something published, text me first. At least get one other opinion than your own."
"Okay." He does it there and then, even deletes the twitter app, and that's more than he's ever done for anyone, but what she's done for him is more than anyone ever has.
"Alexander Hamilton?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
He closes his eyes and breathes the words in, standing impossibly still until suddenly he is the one crying, silent tears flowing freely from under his eyelids.
"Can- can you- again-"
She presses her body to his, and envelops him in her warmth, just holding him, grounding him as he lets go and the sobs rip through him, shaking every fibre of his being as he buries his face in her chest and she tangles her hand through his hair and he wraps his arms around her waist, holding on to her so tight it has to be painful, but she doesn't say anything, only- "I love you. I love you. I will always love you. Even when you're an idiot, because that's who you are, when you're in the limelight, because that's where you belong, and when you're lost, because you are worth so much more than what you give yourself credit for. You're… enough. More than enough. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise."
And they stay like that for a while, until he calms down, and then they move to the ratty bed they share and strip and just lie down, still embraced, and after he feels he can move again he strokes her hair and whispers into the night. "Don't ever leave me." He doesn't think she's heard him, but then, "Never. Don't you ever risk your life like that again. You're all I've got."
"Love?" it's a whisper, a caress.
"Yes?"
"Will you be my wife?"
"Alexander, you're my life."
Best of wives, best of women.