DISCLAIMER:

SINCE THESE ARE HISTORICAL FIGURES, AND NO ONE OWNS THEM, I'LL JUST... WRITE.

Now, this is a genre-hop for me, as I don't usually write this sort of thing. Still, I wrote it, and thought it was all right, so here it is. Read on.

Eliza woke to the windows rattling as thunder rolled, shaking the whole house. It wasn't the noise or the lightning that woke her. Nor was it the cold air, so much as the fact she was wrapped in a bear-hug, and it had gotten to the point of discomfort. She shifted, looking over her shoulder at Alexander—who seemed completely oblivious to the fact he was squeezing the life out of her.

"Alex..." She whispered.

No response. His death-grip didn't loosen, either.

"Alexander..."

Nothing.

She freed one of her arms—not certain when or how he'd pinned them to her sides—and ran it through his hair. "Wake up, Love." She let her hand trail down his face. In the vague light of the storm, Eliza saw his eyes open.

"Hmm?"

"I've worn looser corsets..." was all she managed to say, lightly poking his arms around her middle.

Realization sank in, and Alexander instantly loosened his hold. "I'm sorry. Sorry." Still, he didn't let her go.

"No harm done." Turning all the way over, Eliza faced him, snuggling closer and pulling the blanket higher. "Dreams?"

"Was it so obvious?" He didn't wait for her answer. "I suppose only you know me so well."

Eliza smiled through the dark, wordlessly wrapping her arms around him as well. "Tell me?"

"The dream?"

"No, about your national bank." She teased.

He opened his mouth and—taking her quite literally—began informing her all about it.

Eliza raised a finger to his lips. "The dream, yes. I meant the dream."

"Oh." Alexander's tone was sheepish. "The bank, after, though?"

He was always throwing ideas around. She could probably explain his bank plan word-for-word if anyone asked, simply because he spoke to her so often about it. "Yes. After."

Hamilton let out a quiet sigh. "The dream?" he asked again.

"Mhm."

"It was of my mother..." Alex spoke slowly. He only spoke slowly when he was tired, and Eliza always cherished these conversations the most. Thus she listened, riveted by every word, only nodding.

"I was sick... she was too." The words were barely spoken above a whisper.

Eliza knew how this story would end. It wasn't a happy ending.

Thunder echoed through the house again, and in the following silence, Eliza was incredibly aware of the rain pelting the windows. Alexander's slow, even breaths were warm against her skin. The silence continued to the point Eliza was certain he wouldn't say anything more.

"It was raining, then, too." Hamilton paused in his recounting of the dream to state, "I don't sleep well in storms." He sheepishly tacked on, "You've likely noticed."

She had. Then again, he rarely slept at all. Most nights, he wound up tossing and turning for hours. That was not something she was going to mention now, though.

"She told me everything would be all right... I could sleep. She would still be there."

Eliza's heart ached for him. All at once, she wanted him to stop—stop remembering childhood nightmares—but couldn't find the words to say so. Besides, her words wouldn't make them go away.

"I slept." The two words were filled with regret. "When I woke, her arms were still around me... she was cold."

Eliza pulled him closer.

With his head on her shoulder, Alexander kept speaking. "Couldn't wake her."

Her heart broke. Hamilton never let it show; never let what he'd been through define him. But Eliza knew—from what he'd already told her—that he'd lost many people. In that moment, as she recalled how tightly he'd held onto her, it was all she could do to keep tears from streaming down her face. "I won't leave you, Alexander."

He laughed—a quiet sound, filled with relief... and doubt. "I love you."

"I mean it." Eliza hadn't missed the reservation in his response. He wasn't getting away with thinking she didn't mean every word.

"One can't do something simply because they want to. I do not doubt you would not leave me; not intentionally. But death is... unavoidable. Unless of course, I leave this world before you do—which, I pray is the case."

"Alexander!" She swatted him. "Don't you say things like that! We will die at the same time."

He laughed, sitting up, and pulling Eliza with him. He kissed her, then leaned back and studied her face in the dim light. "You are beautifully naive, Elizabeth."

"You know I don't appreciate those terms—naive, cute… wide-eyed."

"But, Darling, you are. Very cute. And you have wide eyes; they are quite beautiful, you know."

The heat creeping into her cheeks wouldn't be visible at night, but she felt it. Eliza smiled, shaking her head at him. "I could not stay mad at you. Even if I tried."

"What did I do to deserve you?"

Eliza laughed. "I believe it was your way with words that won me over."

Hamilton—faking disappointment—asked, "What about my other amazing qualities?"

She swatted him. "I didn't know about those when we met."

"Ah, you make an excellent point."

Eliza settled back into the bed, pulling the blanket up again. Propping herself up with one arm, she watched Alexander as he sat cross-legged on the bed. Now he was awake, and there would be no sleep for him; he would likely be up the remainder of the night. She almost felt bad for waking him.

"Now I can talk about my bank?"

Laughing, Eliza made a mental note of how much Alexander sounded like a child; his projects always excited him. "Yes, you may." And talk he did, losing her on the finer points of finance. Somehow, he always seemed to know when she didn't understand, because he would backtrack and explain it again in simpler terms. Listening was enough, because while Alexander spoke to her—even if it was about his bank—she had his undivided attention. That was enough.

If you made it to the end, I hope you found the story worthwhile. Thank you for reading.