So I wrote this pretty late at night. I was listening to pretty much all the depressing songs from Hamilton, plus it was raining outside. So I wrote some angst. By the time I finished writing this, I was bawling.

When I first learned about Pasty I wrote the idea down, but I never got to it until now. Guys, history is amazing. And has it's eyes on you. This is also what happenes when you listen to "Breathe" from In the Heights over and over beacause it's stuck inside your head. :)

I don't own Hamilton.

One Last Time

Pasty had another seizure the day before. They were coming often. Pasty was having them almost twice a day. Martha was getting worried. Throughout the years, George and Martha had tried everything. "A Vial of Nervous Drops" and bleeding didn't help. Nothing seemed to help. The attacks had become much more frequent when she was about 12. Even when Pasty was five or so, she had them. George started keeping track of the seizers in his journal. Jackey (Pasty's older brother) was away at collage. But he sent his fiancé, Eleanor over often to help her. The family could only pray.

It was five in the afternoon, maybe later. Eleanor was talking with Pasty. George and Martha were in another room. Both of them were thinking about Pasty. But neither talked.

Pasty went to her room to retrieve a letter from her brother. After a few minutes, Eleanor started hearing strange noises from the seventeen-year-old's room. Starting to worry, Eleanor ran up to the room. The noises grew stronger.

Eleanor opened the door slowly. The sight she found made her scream.

Pasty was in the midst of a seizure. But it didn't seem normal. Eleanor had seen the young woman in the middle of her other attacks. Death could be coming after Pasty now.

George heard the scream and dashed up to his step-daughter's room, followed closely behind by Martha. Seeing the girl in such discomfort, George moved her onto the bed.

"I-I'm going to f-find help," Martha announced. Yet she did not move.

Other family members moved into the room. George didn't remember who they were. Just other people in the way of getting Pasty help. Martha was shaking. Huge tears poured down George's cheeks.

"Please, God, let her live! Let my daughter live! Give her the life she needs! Please!" George whispered., holding the girl to his chest.

Less than two minutes later, Pasty died without a groan or a sigh.

Pasty was buried the next day. George wrote to his brother-in-law. He told him of his sweet innocent girl. The girl that he had raised since she was a tootler. Jackey was called for the same day. George cancelled any business for the next weeks.

For three months, George stayed by his wife's side. Every night.

"I didn't want to lose another one. I thought, I thought that Pasty was going to live longer than I. Unlike Daniel and Frances," Martha told him.

It was unimaginable to think that Martha had gone through that twice before. Martha was stronger than he could ever imagine. Plus the loss of her first husband. It made George feel stronger thinking about it.

For years after, George could remember the weeks after Pasty's death. How one week, he felt numb. In shock. Pasty's death didn't seem real. Soon, George felt angry at God. But next he begged him to bring Pasty back. George would do anything to see her smiling face. To catch her being naughty one more time. After bargaining for Pasty, George really started mourning. He couldn't feel happy. When he did, George didn't feel right. Like he couldn't be entirely joyful without his daughter. Soon enough, George accepted the fact of her passing.

The first time he met Alexander Hamilton, he knew that he was going to like him. The orphan reminded George of Pasty. They had the same way with words. George saw Pasty in his eyes. Pasty as well as Alexander talked non-stop. Even Alexander's bad temper held a glimpse of Pasty in him.

It was after the war when George told Alexander about his daughter.

Alexander, Eliza, and their son, Philip had come down to visit the family. Martha grated them with open arms, as always. George stood back, but shook Alexander's hand. Later that night at dinner, Martha asked Eliza if she was expecting again. Eliza answered, with a smile, that she was. Alexander grinned at the congratulations given.

After dinner was over, George brought Alexander aside.

"Son, I want to tell you a story," he started.

"I'm not your son, sir. But what?" The standard Alexander reply.

"A few years back, I had a daughter named Pasty. From a young age she suffered from seizures. They haunted her until she was seventeen when her misery was put to an end," George continued, his voice cracking.

"Why haven't I met her then?" Alexander noticed the older man's face. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"In so many ways, you remind me of Pasty. That's why I've always called you, 'son'. Martha and I were never able to have children of our own. We think of you like a younger brother to Pasty. You two would of gotten along very well together." George let himself laugh at the thought.

They returned to the girls, who were talking about morning sickness reliefs. Alexander never looked at Washington the same way the rest of the night. There was so much more to the man than Alexander had thought.

Sorry about the ending. I was out of ideas. And remember I was writing this really late at night, because I can.

Thanks for reading! Please review! It'll make you happy! Like this: :D. Yes, I am going crazy.