Her life had always been a hectic one.

She dealt with things ranging from taking care of eight wonderful children to making sure her love's life was not slandered upon by dishonest colleagues.

It was stressful indeed, but looking back, she could only laugh at the whole thing. For esteemed political figures, they sure were petty in numerous aspects of life. They felt threatened by her husband's success so they constantly sought to scrutinize his every movement.

Sure, they could criticize his parenting, how distant of a lover he his, even his affair with Laur- Miss Maria; literally anything but his work.

She's seen first hand how driven he had been.

The late nights he spent writing essays upon essays to rebuild the country, how he worked ten times harder than any other person she knew and never received just payment. How the one thing he was legitimately in love with- the prospect of innovation for our country -was tossed aside for obscurity.

Despite the bitter feelings that resided within herself, even she still loved him. Maybe not as she did once before, but she still, in some platonic and twisted aspect, loved him dearly. His death shook her, almost as strong as her dear Phillip's passing, and still haunted her conscience with 'what ifs'.

'What if her husband had stayed? '

'What if he'd gotten the childhood he needed?'

'What if he had simply the time to rest without the burden of finances or the corruption of paranoia?'

These questions circled her daily actions, these questions tore apart her once again 'perfect' world, constantly setting flames.

Then one day, they just stopped.

Silence had entered her life once more, with her going upon her daily life as if nothing had happened. This didn't seem right either. She never hated the quiet before? So why now? She had stopped grieving, life returned to a somewhat semblance of normality but...something was simply not right.

That's when it hit her. It happened while hearing yet another slander upon her Alexander's name.

They rarely did insult the true issues but instead, she realized that they always attacked his work. He had never been awarded or properly remembered for the good he had done. Instead his accomplishments had just diminished into obscurity.

They made him into this money laundering pawn of Britain, but not the frustratingly stubborn writer he was. They made his promotion of stability into a demolishing of American pretended like they knew him when they don't.

So yes, she did get sick of this nonsense.

Do you know why?

Because out of all the material they had, they decided to attack the one thing he truthfully was faithful to. The entire reasoning of his life, his passion, his writing, his heartfelt time all wasted with a blown up, unrealistic imagery of a man she'd never known.

That was when she realized why the quiet didn't seem right after his death. If he was in her place he would have never been silent in the first place. He would protest, writing and writing until he made them listen. He wouldn't have sat around wasting this precious time.

After this realization, she got right to work.

She herself protested, speaking out about their legacies of Hamilton and many others. She combed through thousands of letters with her sister until Angelica too ran out of time.

She spent her time raising funds and children while pushing the writing of her husband's biography. Every free second she had was spent documenting the letters she hadn't burnt and in result slowly building a story from ashes.

She spent time with her children, watching them come of age with the young nation. Eliza cherished this time with it often keeping her anchored to her life, knowing that not many got to watch the seeds planted finally bloom.

Looking back, it was worth it.

Even with all of this, she still made time to open the first private orphanage so she could raise thousands of children to have the chance at telling their own stories. All the while, she patiently waited for details on the progression on her husband's biography. With both optimism and pride filling her with every update.

That's when she was finally told that, yes, they did finish it.

She celebrated with the children of the orphanage, telling stories and showing them things from back then.

After the festivities, she tucked them into bed and soon let the day and her age catch up to her. Settling into her chair, she let out a sigh as she felt the chair engulf her in its warmth. Her calloused hands creaked as she studied its lines. She traced them languidly as she shut her eyes from the fire place's warmth.

Her hands soon found their way to an all familiar locket. She took ahold of it mind finally comprehending her entire ninety-nine years of living in action and never in peace. Looking around at how everything was finally in place and how truly lucky she was to be around for so long, she felt a wave of relief wash over her.

She had done enough and her time was up.

So, closing her eyes with one last sigh and a brief caress of her locket she whispered,

"It was only a matter of time..."

1757-1854

Disclaimer (at the end just cause)-This is my interpretation of the historical figures and how they're presented in the musical. In no way do I claim to own it. I'm testing the waters a bit here since my last fic was basically crack- but feel free for constructive criticism if you see a glaring error in spelling or grammar. Any other tips are welcomed as well.