A/N: Don't shoot! I promise the next chapter of Hold Me 'Till It Sleeps is coming. But without giving stuff away, it's tough to write and it's taken some time.

So this came about as I pooped around on the internet (Lin-ism) for au prompts. It's kind of been a challenge to me, in three major ways:

This won't be above three chapters. Three is my maximum.

Dialogue has always been a challenge for me so I wanted to challenge myself to write some good dialogue.

THIS IS THE MOST HARLEQUIN SCHMALTZY CRAP EVER THIS ISN'T ME

I'm keeping me-ish elements in it though (an inability to finish things, some Alexander whump, and some various angsty scenarios).

So anyway, enjoy, leave a comment, tell me what you think!

Based off this prompt: "i'm so sorry i've been stowing away on your ship but i'm lonely and tired and starving with nowhere to go so please take pity on my poor soul bc you're the sweetest pirate i have ever met and since we're in the middle of the ocean now there's no way you're taking me back to land anytime soon" au "i would be furious at you for stowing away on my ship if it weren't for the fact that you look really sick and sad can i help you" au

I just cut out the pirate stuff.

I woke up this morning with a burning in my soul
Morning air, it hit me like it's never done before
I woke up this morning with a turning in my bones
All the things that I can change, never let go

To be rich in this era means you were doing something right. At least, that's what Eliza's father always said.

Her mother had died giving birth to Peggy, and her father "raised" them. Or so he said, though he was rarely around, and the raising was primarily done by nannies, all of which he would fire if the children became too attached to them. Thus, the girls always pretended not to like their nannies around their fathers.

The sisters were now too old for nannies, but they had never lost contact with their favorite. Martha still invited them into her home whenever they wanted, and sometimes Eliza went simply to feel the warmth of a home, not just a house.

Philip Schuyler decidedly looked down on anyone not of his stature in society. He had a legacy to protect, and his daughters were expected to uphold this.

He had arranged a marriage between her older sister Angelica and a rich heir, John Church. She knew well that Angelica didn't actually like the man, didn't hate him but certainly didn't love him, but this marriage was a requirement, as the oldest.

Eliza was also expected to marry rich, so at 18, she was savoring every day that she didn't need to spend with an rich, controlling old man.

Lest it seem like their father was a monster, Eliza knows he does love them. He may have trouble expressing it, yes, but he did. He made sure they were cared for, educated, and grew into functional adults to the best of his ability. It hadn't been easy for him. His mother was the only woman he ever loved, and the fact that he still raised three girls, who were constant reminders of their mother, after her death, did say something about him.

Eliza took care to keep that in mind, when thinking of her father.

But back to that day.

When they went out, they were expected to notify their father and go back to the house immediately after they finished whatever it was they had to do. However, today, all her efforts to contact her father had been in vain, so she made her way down to the shipping yard in hopes (well, perhaps not hopes) of catching him. Her father sometimes inspected the newer ships to see what kind of a profit he could turn from selling them, but there were only two new ones and he was in neither of them.

She searched for what she estimated was about thirty minutes, all in vain.

Finally, she came to the end of the dock and glanced at a towering, ratty older ship. Hiking her dress' skirts up and stepping carefully off the pier, she made her way onboard, resolving if she couldn't find her father here, she'd just go home and deal with whatever punishment came from "not respecting him enough to let him know where she has been off to".

The ship was quiet as she made her way around. Its cavernous emptiness actually seemed rather calm, as it gently swayed to the beat of the waves. She was about to leave when her foot suddenly hit something hard and she slipped. With a yelp, she hit the floor.

Her dress was dusty, but not ripped, she noted with gratitude. She cast an eye back to the offending object she had stumbled over. As it turned out, she had tripped over someone's outstretched leg, which was quickly yanked back among a stream of "oh god oh fuck what the fuck nobody was supposed to ever come in here."

Picking herself up and dusting off her dress, she rounded the corner to come face to face with a young man, about her age.

His brown eyes rose to meet hers.

He was filthy, gaunt, his clothes raggedy and threadbare.

His hair was long, pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck.

His brown eyes were wide with fear, his skinny limbs frantically trying to gather his meager belongings.

He seemed to have made his home in a shipping container. A few blankets were laid out on the floor; some books were stored in the corner.

Not a great first impression, even for a stowaway.

Nor, really, were his first words, angrily thrown at her while scrambling up from the floor.

"Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?"

She drew back. "Excuse me, who are you to talk to me like that? You're the one on my father's ship."

His eyes widened. "Your father's…oh shit. Oh shit. This wasn't supposed to happen, I was supposed to be undetectable here, I'm gonna kill Mulligan."

The young man raked a hand through his dark hair, his fingers trembling as he continued to gather his belongings.

Despite not knowing the first thing about this young man, Eliza stepped closer to her.

The Schuyler sisters had lived a very sheltered life. She was almost ashamed to admit she had never met someone who held so little social status. This young man was living on a boat, held all of his possessions in one shipping container, and likely didn't even have a job.

In her father's world, these things were unheard of.

She figured nobody could blame her for wondering why a young man was living on her father's oldest ship.

She raised a hand and plucked at the shoulder of his pathetic coat.

"Why are you living in my father's ship?"

He scoffed.

"Not all of us can afford five houses, princess. I was just trying to survive. Happens I don't have to pay rent."

Eliza's brow furrows in indignation.

"You're hardly in a position to be speaking that way to me, don't you think? I mean, I could get you arrested with one sentence to basically anyone here. And you could deny it, but whose word do you think they'd believe?"

His eyebrows rise in shock. "Not bad, princess. Solid bluff. Maybe I underestimated you."

"You absolutely did, and don't call me princess. I'm hardly royalty, and I have a name."

"Ah yes, one of the famed Schuylers. I'm guessing you're Angelica?"

That stung, for reasons she didn't quite understand. Perhaps it was because inside, she was painfully aware that she'd never be like her fiery, confident sister, much as she might like to be. She'd also never have the adorable, exuberant energy of her youngest sister.

She'd never be Peggy. She'd never be Angelica. She'd forever be the boring, unremarkable middle sister, destined to be forgotten.

But middle sister or not, she was still a Schuyler, and she was not going to let this transient stranger speak to her in way she knew her father would never allow.

"Sorry to disappoint. Elizabeth Schuyler. And again, I would remind you to watch your tongue, lest you say something that might get you in trouble.

"Few years too late for that."

He sighs. His gaze softens.

For the first time since she's seen him, he looks young. Young and scared.

"Look, just don't tell your father, okay? I'll be out in an hour, I'll figure out some place to sleep. Gonna be a longer commute to work, but…."

"Wait, you work here?"

"Yeah. Oh, sorry, the princess can't be seen talking to the commoner. Best leave. I promise I'll be out soon."

Eliza scoffed and jutted her hip out, hoping her posture radiated a confidence she never really felt.

"No chance of that. I caught you, but you weren't supposed to be here in the first place. My father doesn't offer free room and board to his employees."

She scans his "living quarters" and finds a pile of books stacked in the corner. Stepping delicately to avoid whatever dirty fabric was laid out on the ground, she knelt by them.

Voltaire. Locke. Socrates. Several old editions of US treaties.

This man, whoever he was, he was learned.

She ran her fingers over the spines longingly.

She and her sisters were women, and women of high social status. They had never had cause to be educated formally, but oh, how she had wished for it.

She longed to lose herself in the pages of books, to be able to learn about the world, to know the workings of such great minds, to explore the realms that lived in the pages of such books.

She had even asked her father a few times, but had only been met with the assurances that she was never to need such knowledge to be a prominent wife and mother.

She felt the man come up behind her, jolting her back to the present.

To her surprise, his expression was soft when he looked at her.

"You like to read?" he asked.

Bending down, he picked up a particularly battered volume, flipped it open to a well-worn page.

"This one's my favorite," his tone was delicate, like he was sharing a secret with her.

She sighed, tracing a finger over the lettering of a US Treatise.

"I can read but I've never…I mean…my father never allowed it."

She wonders why she's telling him this, a total stranger.

His expression changes into one of shock.

"Never allowed it? But that's…Voltaire; he is one of the greatest minds of our time! How can it be that your father didn't allow you to know such magnificent thoughts?"

His expression holds pity, and that is something that seems patently ridiculous, given their situation.

Eliza pulled herself into a standing position, dusted off her dress, tried to regain some composure.

I am a Schuyler. I am a Schuyler. I am above this man.

"I suppose it was because, unlike some, I have a future," she shot back, and watched his expression drop.

"Yeah well, like I said, give me an hour and you can pretend I never existed. Just don't tell anyone."

"How could I not?" she asks, more of a tease than anything else. For some reason, she likes getting under this man's skin. She likes causing a reaction in him. She likes that expression of surprise when he realized she was not just a spoiled little rich girl.

Probably without even realizing what he's doing, he grabs her hand and looks her straight in the eye, his expression pleading.

"Please, Miss Schuyler. He may…this is strictly illegal. He could kill me, or…" his expression darkens, his eyes haunted.

"They might send me back. Please don't tell him."

The expression in his eyes is so earnest, so sincere, that Eliza's breath catches in her throat.

This man, he was everything her father had taught her to avoid. And yet there was something behind his eyes, something mysterious that Eliza couldn't help but want to unlock.

She swallows the lump in her throat.

"Alright. I won't tell."

The relief on his face is palpable. Eliza soaks up the expression for a moment.

"On one condition."

I am a Schuyler. I am a Schuyler.

"What? I haven't got any money to pay you with, obviously."

"I don't want your money. I want to learn."

He blinks in shock.

"What?"

She sweeps her hand over to the corner to indicate the books.

"You know things, things I don't. Things that are in these books. I want to learn."

His expression doesn't change from one of absolute shock. She understands why. In society, she would not even look at him; much less say one word to him. And now she, a high society Schuyler sister, wants to be learning from him?

But this space, it feels secretive. Spirited away, where she can know what she always longed to without anyone finding out.

This man, he has a reason to keep this a secret, as much as she does. It is an ideal scenario, for what it is.

"You…want me to teach you?"

A nod.

"And if I do that…you won't tell?"

"If you do, I won't tell."

There's a long pause, as she sees him turning the idea over in his mind.

"Okay."

She starts coming two days later, twisting her fingers together in nervousness she doesn't really understand.

Then comes back two more days that week.

They start to develop a routine, regular days where they do this, the best route to take to the ship so that Eliza is not caught.

Most days, they sit with their backs against the back of the shipping container that is Alexander's home.

Oddly, Eliza finds it warmer than her own home.

They sit and they talk.

("Of course all men are created equal means women too, Eliza! Men is just a blanket term for all people. I don't deny that Thomas Jefferson is an ass, however.")

Sometimes she brought things with her. A pillow here and there, a blanket that may have actually had a wash in the last century, some scraps of food she'd pilfered from the kitchen.

She would ask questions sometimes, but mostly she would just listen to Alexander talk.

When he talked about what he read, his eyes lit up. His body came alive. His hands gesticulated furiously.

They started on opposite ends of the crate.

Well, Eliza sat herself down on the opposite end to him their first session, and Alexander had scoffed but let it go.

By their fourth session, they had moved to the same wall.

She sat beside him eight sessions in (still with a wide berth, however).

He was an incredible teacher. The words of those he taught her about came alive in front of her, and Eliza had never been more opposed to the fact that women of her stature were not given formal education.

What Angelica could have done if she'd been allowed to go to school, she thinks?

For now, she is contented to soak up all this new knowledge. This new experience. This new person.

So, for now, she gives him a wide berth.

Of course, that doesn't last forever.

If the world only knew what I could do

They would be astounded

If the world only knew what I could do

I would be surrounded

If the world only knew what I could do

Maybe I'd be free

And they would see so much more in me