Wow. Hello friends, I have not posted a story of any kind in a looong time. I've written some stuff here and there, but nothing I was ever actually going to consider posting.

I'm a bit cautious posting a Hamilton fic, I'm using more of the characters and the storyline from Lin-Manuel Miranda's musical, but I always feel weird writing about people who were...alive and real. Though it's July 4th, and with that thought in mind I was thinking of throwing some ideas to PTSD from war. In Ron Chernow's biography on Alexander Hamilton, I thought I recalled a point that after the war, Hamilton spent like two months recuperating in bed. While I know the guy had shitty health and had indeed gotten sick throughout the war, I wanted to shed some light on the mental trauma the Revolution must've held for all of the soldiers.

Again, I have NOT written a fanfic for a long time, so I apologize for grammar mistakes or sloppy writing.

A young man slowly made his way down a dirt road. His hair was unkempt, dirt and grime and blood covering his face and his once unstained uniform. He had made his way into more than familiar territory, his steps becoming more unbalanced and small as he pressed forward. Short pants escaped his mouth as he neared his destination.

A few people stood as onlookers, their eyes bright with promise and pride. The obvious signs of exhaustion setting in the man's small thin frame. Months upon months of relentless fighting. Sleep was definitely not a thing many got much of during times of crisis. Only the ill and wounded were truly able to regain some of what they've lost. The initial adrenaline of the war ending dulled over the course of the walk, replacing it by the nightmares he would bear, the pain localized everywhere in his body.

The man sighed heavily, partially motivating himself to continue putting one foot in front of the other. He was almost home.

Eliza. My son. Angelica. Peggy.

With as much energy as he could muster he pressed forward with a little more rhythm. Once he made it to the small path that leads directly to his destination, he'd lost it once more, and his brain became fuzzy and muddled.

He could feel his knees shaking as he more stumbled than walked now. He let his head hang low, watching his feet carefully to make sure he didn't faceplant.

His pants turning to gasps, he slowly saw the edges of his vision blur with darkness. He was succumbing to sleep, and at that moment he lost his footing. He closed his eyes, accepting he was about to eat dirt, except that it never came.

Warmth.

Steady arms kept him raised and after a moment of pushing the fogginess from his eyes and glanced up, a weak grin sprouting on his face.

"Alexander...my love. Welcome home."

Alex knew it wasn't possible to melt from affection, but with his brain as confused as it was, he believed any moment he'd be nothing but a puddle on the dirt.

"Eliza," the word came out more as a breath. Alex found some inner strength and pulled his beloved wife into his arms. Having her here, Angelica on the other side of him which he only just now noticed, was all he needed at this moment.

A floodgate of emotions ripped open as a quiet sob escaped his mouth. Tears that he and so many other soldiers had locked in were now finally able to be set free.

"W-we won. W-w-we won. Oh god, it's o-over. It's really-"

Another sob and Alex could feel his knees buckling once more. Both women slowly helped ease the emotional man down to the ground. He felt them both wordlessly wrap their arms around him, and he cried even harder.

"You were amazing, Alex," Angelica murmured warmly, as she rubbed his back soothingly.

"Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now," Eliza whispered, holding her husband's face in her hands, not caring of blood and dirt that was now blended by tears which covered his face. He was gripping his dress so tightly his knuckles were white, his whole body shaking from relief and from the ever-building stress his body now allowed him to feel.

None of them were sure how long they remained there on the ground. Heart clenching wails tearing from Alexander, Eliza and Angelica comforting and soothing him, their arms never breaking the embrace around the man. Silent tears ran down each of their faces as well, Eliza wearing a warm smile on her face. When Alex's cries began to quiet, Eliza petting his hair, she leaned down to make eye contact with her beloved.

"My dearest Alexander, let's get you inside. We'll get you cleaned and fed. Then you can rest to your heart's content."

Her smile was then matched evenly by a tired grin from Alex.

"Okay."

It was a long, hard couple of months. Eliza had given birth to a healthy baby boy, whom they named Phillip. Alexander did his best to help Eliza with him, and around the house, though she lightly scolded him every attempt he made. She had called the family doctor the day after her husband's return, and he ordered bed rest and a pharmacy of medications. Over the course of the war, Alex had fallen ill many times, some nearly fatal. His body never truly got the opportunity to recover, and he fell to fever several times over the past few months. Eliza and Angelica sat with him each time. Sometimes he just slept, other times he babbled incoherently, though the worst times in Eliza's opinion, were the times he bolted up in bed shrieking, nightmares poisoning her beloved's mind.

He had also lost a lot of weight during the war, which was obvious from the moment the sister's laid eyes on him. He'd been small, to begin with, and it worried them both deeply to see how sunken the man had become. They slowly reintroduced foods to his diet, not taking it too quickly, as a person with a weak stomach, Alex had been throwing up many of his meals. He was getting sleep at the very least, which everyone appreciated.

The bruised black rings under his eyes slowly faded. The color came back to his skin. There were days Alex was seemingly back to his old self. He was healthy enough to make it around the house, spend quality time with Phillip and his family. He took small strolls through town with Eliza. Those days are the ones to be treasured.

Other days, you could almost see the black storm cloud looming over Hamilton's head. He was quiet, withdrawn, his eyes looked far away. What people seemingly forget to mention, Eliza realized, was the mental toll war takes on a person.

He still awoke screaming many nights, other times Eliza would awaken to the sounds of muffled sobs. While it didn't happen often, there were days that Alex...simply didn't get out of bed. Eliza always checked for fever, for pain, anything. What she always found was far away glassy eyes, wide and panicked. He would stare at the ceiling or the wall for hours, barely moving, his breathing eerily silent. She always held him, singing and humming quietly, fiddling with his covers, petting his hair, or rubbing his arm. The real trick, Eliza quickly learned, was to bring Phillip in to see his father. She noticed recognition flicker in his eyes, and he almost immediately sat up, putting his hands out to take the baby.

Eliza cried the first time it happened, absolutely gushing with love. She watched her husband silently hold and watch Phillip with intent eyes. He stroked the boy's head, and so, so gently cradled him into his chest. A deep sigh of content released from his mouth, the tenseness in his body melting off of him. Within minutes he and Eliza were able to hold a conversation.

Since finding this trick worked, it hasn't happened again.

Eliza knew of her husband's past. The amount of trauma he already carried on his shoulders. Some he spoke of, going into great depth, other's he refused to speak of in detail at all. As time progressed, Alex began to open up to Eliza and Angelica about the war. He spoke of lighthearted moments, turning points in the war, missions that decided the fate of the war, personal experiences with British soldiers, and his relationship with his Excellency George Washington. There were things the two sisters knew he may never open up about, but just hearing his recounts, they knew he was healing.

He genuinely smiled more frequently now, he remained present and attentive through conversations. He helped Eliza tend to the garden, the silence between them comfortable. She watched Alex beam with excitement every time Phillip did something new. He wrote for hours a day, his quill flickering as quickly as he wrote. The war was over, but a larger, more challenging battle only just beginning. The start of an independent, free country.

Eliza and her sister's helped Alexander through more times of misery, when a letter arrived from John Lauren's father, notifying the shell-shocked man that his closest friend had died in combat. He and his men hadn't known the war was won by the time John took his last breath, and Eliza recalls the words of her husband as he spoke through tears.

"Such shame has been brought on John Lauren's good name. All of those men he himself recruited, looking for the same freedom as we, and were not even granted that. I am disgusted that I stand here, free, while they were all escorted from the battlefield, back to their masters. I refuse to let this stand."

George Washington had heard the news and showed up at The Hamilton's home days later. His eyes were as haunted as Alexander's, but his expression softened on sight of his aide-de-camp. Eliza gave them their room as they spoke in hushed voices, though she could see her husband's shoulders shaking. She watched as Washington leaned in close, putting a gentle hand on the man's shoulder before they embraced.

"It's not fair."

"I know, son. I know."

The weeks following, Eliza noticed a shift in Alex. He stood taller, his shoulders more square than slumping. He was sleeping on a more consistent schedule, waking up early, and writing non-stop through the afternoon.

It was when he came to Eliza and told her that he was going back into law, a wide smile spread across her face. They held each other for a moment before their eyes locked on.

She could see it. Those were the eyes he had from the day they met. Blazing, determined set eyes full of life and fire that she had fallen for in an instant. He grinned at her and pulled her into a kiss.

That's when Eliza knew, her beloved Alexander was going to be okay.

fin.