Every day, they tried to understand why.

Eliza blew out the candle and kissed young Philip on the forehead. She smiled at her youngest son, a memory of his older brother, before leaving the room and walking into her husband's study. Her dead husband. He'd been in the ground only one day and she already missed his eyes. She sat at his desk, the place where he had spent many hours into the night writing and writing and writing. Thousands of pages to sort through, but she didn't mind. It was her last connection to her Alexander. She picked up a quill and a piece of parchment and began to pen a letter to her older sister.

Angelica hadn't left Eliza's side since Alexander had arrived home, wounded. The two sisters had stood together through the entire funeral, helped each other cry. But Angelica was home with her husband and children, at her house downtown. Her own family needed Angelica's magic as well, Eliza reminded herself. Still, she couldn't lie to her sister and pretend that all is well.

My Dear Sister, Angelica,

Oh, how weary is my heart. I find myself making tea and bringing a cup into his office, only to drink by myself. I find myself calling for him to join the children and I for dinner, only to stare at his empty chair. Oh, Angelica, I miss him more than words. I have been trying to take care of the children, and Alex and James try to help me. Angelica's mental health, as you observed during your stay, has rapidly deteriorated since the death of her brother. She takes her meals in her room, mostly, and the doctor visits her once a week. Her siblings try to entertain her, which is helpful, but she doesn't respond to her name, like a young child.

I have been trying to arrange Alexander's finances, but they are in such disorder that I believe I must ask James, who has recently completed his law studies, to assist me. Govenour Morris has assured me that we shall be able to keep our home and land, and that the state will help to provide me with food and education for the children. I want nothing but the best for them. For myself, however, I long for nothing more than to join my Alexander again.

I apologize for the briefness of this letter, but I believe that I should soon retire to my cold bed.

Lovingly,

Your Sister, Elizabeth Schuyler

Eliza doesn't want to tell her sister that the real reason she stopped her letter was because the tears are clouding her vision. She folds the letter crisply and stamps it closed with her husband's crest. From the wall above her, his eyes watch her from his portrait. She'll have to take that down soon. Maybe move it to her bedroom. But for now, she dabs her eyes with a tear stained handkerchief and walks to her bedroom. She changes and crawls into bed on her husband's side. She falls asleep to his scent on the pillowcase. Ink, candlewax, and just the tiniest hint of cologne.

Oh Alexander, I'm sorry. I can't do this without you.

And she falls into a restless sleep full of light blue eyes.


Across town, Aaron Burr reads a letter from his dear daughter, Theodosia. She wrote about her happy life as the wife of a wealthy plantation owner and the joy she finds in her son, two year old Aaron, named after his grandfather. Though Burr had never met the child, he loved him, as well as his mother, beyond reason. Mr. Burr had then been confused by the letter his darling daughter had penned him. She had always voiced her opinions, which made her support of him much better, but he wasn't sure he liked her honesty as much anymore.

Dearest Father,

I was delighted to read your last letter explaining your intentions to come down to South Carolina in a few months to celebrate Aaron's third birthday. He looks like a beautiful mix between his grandfather and his father. And he is quite intelligent as well. Before he was born, I never would have believed that I would find so much happiness in such a small being, but he is the light of my life.

Both Joseph and Aaron are well, though Joseph occasionally gets bouts of coughs from the air. However, I myself seem to be in declining health. I suffer almost constant aches in my head and abdomen, and feel faint while standing up for long periods of time. I worry about these being similar symptoms to what Mother faced in the last year of her life. I plan to visit Saratoga Springs to help improve my health in the coming months.

I read in the Gazette today that Mr. Hamilton had been killed in a duel by none other than yourself. I was shocked, to say the least, that you could not find this relevant to mention in the letter that you must have written after the duel. I have always supported you, Father, and I still do, and I do not doubt Mr. Hamilton was rude and dishonorable to you. However I do not, for the life of me, understand why you found it necessary to place a bullet through the man's body. I have always believed dueling to be a brutish and awful practice, and I was deceived to believe that you thought the same. Now, while I have never been fond of Mr. Hamilton's rude, ungentlemanly practices, I must privately condone your behavior as despicable. According to the paper, his wife, a kind and sweet soul, has been left with no less than seven mouths to feed, one mad and another only Aaron's age. What this poor woman is to do is beyond my mind, but as a mother and a wife, I can tell you that, to have both ripped from me in a matter of years would break my heart and spirit.

Now, Father, I will always support you and help you, and I love you as always. But I hope you realize that, though Mr. Hamilton is dead, you will pay for this. I'm sorry you felt those actions necessary, but I still believe you to be the kind and wise father I have always know. The entire family sends our love and prayers.

Respectfully and Lovingly Yours,

Your Daughter, Theodosia Burr

Burr can't help choking up at his daughter's disapproval. She is very much her mother's daughter, kind and selfless and thoughtful, but also strong-minded and opinionated. He closes his tired eyes for a long moment and decides to pen her a quick note before heading into town for a drink or two.

Dear Theodosia,

Your support means much to me during this hard time. I find it hard to even leave my house in the daylight, lest people sneer and glare at me. This note shall be short, as I wish to rest. I am concerned about your symptoms, as I know they are very similar to your mother's. Did you not suffer a bout of this shortly after Aaron was born? I wish for you to see a doctor, my dear, if it does not leave you after visiting Saratoga. When are you traveling up? I wish for you to stop by my home on your journey. Send my thanks to your husband.

Yr. obdt. Srvt.,

A. Burr

He crisply folds the letter and leaves it to be mailed the next morning. He takes a few coins and walks into the surprisingly cool summer night. He goes into a tavern, and stays until the memory of the familiar man with his gun to the sky disappears from his head.


In a nice house downtown, Angelica Schuyler is not asleep. She has just put her young daughter Catherine back to sleep. She lays next to her husband, a man which there is a cordial friendship, but none of the love she feels for her brother-in-law. She stands up carefully, as to not wake him, and slips down the hall and stairs to the cold conservatory. In silence with tears streaked down her cheeks, she slowly writes a letter. A letter she will never send. It would break her dear sister's heart, and with everything Eliza was gone through recently, it would be cruel. But once she starts, she can't stop.

Dear Eliza,

Oh, I have so much to say to you. Though this letter should never reach your eyes, I have some things I wish to tell you. First, of course, I how much I feel your bitter pain at the loss of our Alexander. He belongs to us both, though I should lay no claim of him. But, my dearest sister, you cannot have been blind to my attraction to him. And for that I am incredibly sorry.

I promise you that it went no farther than a letter here and there and a glance across your dining room table. I would never hurt you like that, my darling little sister. I'm sorry for the loss of your husband, and I know how lonely you must feel. Like a stranger in your own skin. Like the life you're living isn't worth it anymore. I suffer this every morning I wake up next to a husband that I don't love. My Eliza, sometimes I wish I had your life, that the trials would be worth it to have Alexander. But then I see you crying and sobbing in my arms and I know that I am the lucky one. I have all of my children alive and well, as well as a comfortable marriage.

But I can't help but wish I had what you got to have, no matter how brief it seemed. I'm sorry, My Darling, that I cannot pity your loss without thinking of mine as well. But you were always better than me, I suppose. I'm sorry for my jealousy and infatuation with your husband. I hope you feel happy again. I'm sorry for your loss. Farewell, my Lovely.

Your Loving Sister,

Angelica S. Church

Angelica feels tears come to her eyes again. She tries to stop them, but like all the tears that have fallen in the past few days. She laughs bitterly to herself. Curse you, Alexander. She had always been so good at controlling herself. And then Alexander came into her life. Ever since that ball, Angelica had been helplessly in love with her sister's now-husband. She folds the letter and tears it. She lets each piece wilt like Eliza's love letters. And then, instead of going back to bed, Angelica cries.


The city of New York is asleep. The streets aren't full of laughing drunks tonight. Today was the funeral of a great man. Or an awful man. Love him or hate him, the entire city sleeps in solitude for Alexander Hamilton. Aaron Burr passes out in his liquor, wondering when his life went wrong. Eliza Hamilton rests, ready to get up early and fake smile at her beloved children. Angelica watches the fire die silently before climbing the stairs and getting into bed as the sun rises.

The sun will rise, and life will begin. Mothers and cooks will make breakfast. Farmers will plow their fields. Rich young ladies will dress and shop. Students will wake up and go to classes. They will wake up and forget about the funeral they attended yesterday. But there are people who can never forget.

Elizabeth Hamilton will live the rest of her life protecting her husband's legacy and supporting their children. She will live to ninety-seven, doing everything her husband would have wanted her to do. Aaron Burr will suffer the loss of the rest of his family. His beloved daughter and grandson will die. He lives to eighty years old, regretting his mistakes. Angelica Schuyler Church throws herself into her family, helping her beloved sister protect the legacy of the man she never stopped loving. She regretfully died at fifty-eight.

A new day arrives. A nice day. July 14th, 1804. Three days since the duel of Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr. Two days since the former's death. And they move on. Every day, they all keep moving on.


From above, Alexander Hamilton looks down at his lonely wife. The love of his life. Eliza. He whispers to her, and maybe she can hear him. But she can't believe it. So she doesn't hear him. But he helps her. Every day, he helps her get through it. Send the children off to live their lives. He sends her to Washington D.C, where she protests. He sends her home again. Every day, until she sees the blue eyes of her Hamilton once more.