John doesn't remember much. He remembers the battlefield, and all the soldiers around him dropping dead. And then he remembers getting shot and looking down at his bloodstained coat. He remembers another soldier leaning down to help him until he's shot too. And then he remembers nothing. Just black. But not even black, in a sense. There is no color to describe nothing. But after a second in that awful space of nothingness, he's back. But not on the battlefield.
John looked around the room, and he could tell it was obviously a child's room, like a toddler or a baby. The walls are a dark blue, and there are little toys and stuffed animals lying about the floor. But in the corner, there's a crib. Ok, John thought. Obviously a baby's room. But why am I here? He looked down at his now-clean coat and noticed all the blood and pain was gone. He felt the same, just- not the same. He could feel the floor beneath him and he could touch his hair and clothes. He could move around with no problem, but you know something's wrong when you can't feel your own heart inside of you and you can't hear your lungs working. I must be dead. But that still doesn't explain why I'm here.
John walked across the room to the baby crib and was honestly quite surprised when he saw the baby. He wasn't surprised there was a baby, but- it looked just like him. Dark curls covered the baby's head and his emerald green eyes sparkled when the light shone down on them. John chuckled to himself as he watched the baby sleep. He could've gone anywhere in the universe when he died, and for some reason he was in a room with a sleeping child who he didn't even know. He reached his hand into the crib and started playing with the baby's hair. I get Alex is always touching my hair now, he thought. And then he realized something. If he was dead, he would never see Alex again. Nor Hercules or Lafayette or anyone. What if he was just stuck in this room for the rest of his life?
As if the baby heard John's depressing thoughts, it woke up and started crying. Loud. John had heard babies crying, he had some of his own, but dang this baby was loud. He heard muffled noises coming from downstairs, and then footsteps coming up. He froze. How was he going to explain why he was in their room dressed in his war uniform? He looked around and decided to hide in the closet, praying they wouldn't look in there. He closed the doors behind him and looked out between the cracks to see a sight he never thought he would see. Alexander opened the door and gently pulled the baby out of the crib.
"Shh, it's ok, it's ok, Papa's here," he cooed. John felt his jaw drop to the floor. Alex was a dad? How did I not know? Oh right. I'm dead . He groaned from inside the closet then realized what he had done. He clamped his hand over his mouth and hoped he wasn't too late. Alex didn't seem to notice, but the baby froze and stared in the direction of the closet. John decided that he may as well come out, Alex was his best friend! He slowly opened the doors so as to not scare anyone that a full-grown man was walking out of their closet. "You look so much like him, Phillip." Alexander was staring at his child with a sad smile on his face. John paused. What? "You look so much like my John." Hold up- my John? What was that supposed to mean? John was halfway out of the closet now, frozen in his place. "If only you could've met him, Pip. He was going to be your God-father, you know." At this point John was almost crying. No, scratch that. He was crying. How long had it been since he had died? A day? A week? A month? He could see tears running down Alex's cheeks. When John stepped out Alex was oblivious, his brown eyes focused on his child. John cleared his throat and tapped him on the shoulder. Alex had to have noticed him now, but no. He just kept whispering to the baby rocking him back and forth between his arms.
"Alex," John said. "It's me." Still no answer. "Hello? Alex!" Silence. Was this because he was dead? John looked at the baby and their eyes locked. Surely he couldn't have been looking at anything behind John, could he? No. They were looking right at each other. John decided to test it out and he stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes. The small child looked at him with wonder, then started giggling.
"What's so funny, Philip?" Alex asked, still using his baby voice, two octaves higher than his normal tone. Alex turned around and looked around the room, his eyes skipping right over where John was standing. The next thing he did John could have never imagined. Alex walked right through him. He never fully went through though, he stopped while his back still about an inch inside John's. John shuddered and took a step forward to separate him and Alex and turned around. He will never get used to that.
He made eye contact with Philip again, apparently that's his name, and he took a few seconds to really realize why he must be here. Because of him. Not because of Alex, because of his son. He was never going to leave him.
"I'm gonna protect you, little guy. You hear that? I'm going to protect you for as long as you live." John smiled, and in doing so Philip laughed again. "Yeah. You're gonna be stuck with me for a long time."
Philip was 5 years old now, and he had discovered early that John's, well, dead, and he's the only one who can see him.
"Whatcha mean you not really here?" Philip had been wondering why his parents acted like John didn't exist. John had told him multiple times not to tell them who he was, just in case they thought Philip was crazy or something.
"Well, Philip, sometimes when a person has lived a very long time or gets a really bad boo-boo, they fall asleep and never wake up. It's called dying."
"Am I gonna dying?" Philip's eyes had grown wide from this conversation. John chuckled at his very wrong grammar.
"No, bud, not under my watch. Not until you're old and gray. And people don't 'dying', they die. You see when I died, a part of me lived on and now I'm here."
Philip nodded slowly, but it was clear that he didn't understand some of it. John sighed. "Don't worry about it. Do you wanna go outside and see your daddy?"
"Kay!" Philip ran out the door and into the garden in the back, while John stayed inside for a minute to think. It was kind of weird talking about death to a 5-year-old. Philip left the door open when he walked out, so John could hear their conversation.
"Daddy, daddy!" Philip shouted.
"What's up, Pip?"
"I have a friend who died!" Alex's face quickly turned from complete happiness to utter confusion in a matter of seconds.
"Uh, w-what?" Alex asked. "Pip, do you know what 'died' means?"
Philip scrunched his face up trying to remember what John had told him. "Umm… when you sleep and never wake up!" He sounded triumphant when he told his father what it meant. Five-year-olds. Now, you'd think John would try to stop this from getting any worse, but he was finding this amusing as he stood by the door watching. "His name is John. His last name starts with an L, but I don't remember-" He was cut off by John stepping in front of him.
"Pip! Remember what we talked about! You can't tell them that!" John said. It wasn't yelling, but it was loud. "Now, I want you to pretend I haven't said anything. Don't even nod."
All the blood had drained from Alex's face, leaving him white and frozen to his seat. For a second he locked eyes with John and stared into them like he was trying to figure out if he was real or not. "John?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and he rubbed his eyes and opened them again. John assumed Alex couldn't see him anymore as he looked right past John and turned back to Philip. "That's very nice Philip. Go and play now."
Philip turned around and ran back inside, John right behind him. When they reached Philip's room, Philip plopped down on his bed and looked up at John. "He called me Philip. He never calls me Philip. He always calls me Pip. Do you know why he called me Philip?"
"Your dad and I were very close, Pip. He gets in a bad mood when people talk about me. It makes him sad."
Philip nodded and looked down at his battered shoes, wrecked from running around so much. He didn't really understand now, but he will when he's older.
It was Philip's 9th Birthday today, and he was writing a little rhyme that he could sing for his father. John was helping, of course. It was just the morning, and his plan was to practice all day and then recite it for his dad in the evening. He wanted nothing more than to make his father proud.
He cleared his throat theatrically and took a deep breath. "My name is poet. I am a Philip-" He was cut off by John chuckling a bit louder than he meant to.
"Pip, Pip. It's 'My name is Philip. I am a poet.' If you say it like that, it won't rhyme with the next line!"
Philip groaned and sat back on his bed. "I can't do itttttt…. too much worrrrkkkkk."
"Come on, one more time." John tried to grab his hand and pull him up, but he just went straight through his wrist.
Philip giggled. "Ugh, you're cold!" John just rolled his eyes and smiled.
"And… go!"
"My name is Philip. I am a poet. I wrote this poem just to show it. And I.. just turned nine! You can write rhymes but you can't write mine!"
John clapped his hands. "Great! Let's work on the second part."
They spent the rest of the afternoon finishing it before it was time to share it with Philip's dad.
"Your son is nine years old today. There is something he'd like to say," Eliza had gotten Alex from his study and brought him to the dining room. "Philip, take it away!"
"My name is Philip. I am a poet. I wrote this poem just to show it. And I… just turned nine. You can write rhymes but you can't write mine!" John had gone behind Alex and was mouthing the words along with Philip so he wouldn't forget them. Alex's face was lighting up at the sound of his son's voice.
"I practice French and play piano with my mother! I have a sister but I want a little brother!"
Alex was a little taken aback by that one. "O-okay!"
"My daddy's trying to start America's bank! Un, deux, trois, quatre, CINQ!"
"Bravo!" Alex clapped his hands and hugged Philip, before walking off with Eliza. John could hear him say "Hey, our kid is pretty great."
He looked back to Philip only to see him beaming, his smile stretching ear to ear. "You hear that, Pip? You're pretty great."
"Uh huh!"
Philip was 15 now, he had just heard the news about the Reynolds Pamphlet.
"I don't believe this. Pops would never!"
John sighed. "I know, Pip. It's hard to believe." They were both in Philip's room, hiding from his parents as Eliza yelled at her husband. Once it had quieted down, John could've sworn he saw smoke coming from downstairs. What?
"Ugh, I just- ugh."
John smiled, though it wasn't as real as he would've liked it to be. "You just ugh?"
Philip sat up on his bed and glared playfully at John. "Well, I don't know, I want to be mad at him, it feels like I should, but I can't! Ugh, this is so confusing. I bet it wasn't even his fault. I bet it's all just made up and this is all just a bad dream. I'm gonna wake up, give me a second."
John sighed as Philip squeezed his eyes together as hard as he could so he would wake up. "Pip, you know this isn't a bad dream. Your father made a mistake. A big one. But he still loves you and your mother very much. It's not your fault if you love him too."
Philip groaned. "I guess."
"Philip! Listen to me!"
"No! You don't understand, John, he disparaged my father's name in front of a crowd! I can't have that!"
John flew in front of Philip to stop his path, as he knew Phillip would never walk through him. He did it once, and- ugh, never again.
"No, you don't understand! I've been in a duel before, defending someone I deeply respected! I almost killed the man, do you hear me! Eaker isn't one to hesitate, Philip. You don't know what you just got yourself into."
Philip rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna die, John. It's just a duel."
"You know what, Philip-"
"Why are you calling me Philip?"
"Because I'm mad at you," John said. He put his thumb and pointer finger to his temple and sighed. Philip almost looked hurt when he said this. "I'm not mad , exactly, just worried. I promised I would keep you alive, Pip. I can't do that if you challenge every person who insults your dad to a duel."
Philip just glared at John and turned around, heading towards his house.
"Pops if you had only heard the shit he said about you! I doubt you would have let it slide and I was not about to!"
"Slow down-"
"I came to ask you for advice, this is my very first duel," Philip started. John could see Alex's face pale when he realized what was happening. "They don't exactly cover the subject in boarding school."
Alex collected himself and stood from his desk. "Did your friends attempt to negotiate a peace?"
John could tell Philip was panicking as he talked more and more. "Calm down, Pip."
Philip sighed. "He refused to apologize, we had to let the peace talk cease."
"Where is this happening?"
"Across the river in Jersey."
"Everything is legal in New Jersey," they all said together.
Alexander put his hand on Philip's shoulder and looked him in the eye. " Alright, so this is what you're gonna do: stand there like a man until Eacker is in front of you. When the time comes, fire your weapon in the air. This will put an end to the whole affair."
Philip's eyes grew wider. "But what if he decides to shoot and I'm a goner?"
Alex shook his head. "No, he'll follow suit if he's truly a man of honour. To take someone's life, that is something you can't shake. Philip, your mother can't take another heartbreak."
He was right about that. After all Eliza had been through, she didn't need a murderer as her son. But, even that would be better than a dead son.
"Damn it, Alex! Eaker is not a man of honour!" John turned to Philip. "Pip, I swear to god, if you follow his advice you will die." Philip turned pale and faced Alexander.
"Father!"
"Promise me. You don't want this young man's blood on your conscience."
Philip hesitated, but John knew that he could never disappoint his father. "Okay, I promise."
Alex smiled, though it was full of worry. "Come back home when you're done. Take my guns. Make me proud, son."
At that Philip walked out of the room, his father's pistol inside his coat, John close behind.
"Philip, please! Your dad has never been in a duel, he doesn't know what he's saying! I sincerely doubt Eaker will be 'truly a man of honor,'" he said, repeating Alexander's words.
"I won't disappoint my father, John. You know that."
"I do know that! But would you rather die?"
Philip just rolled his eyes. "I'm probably not going to die, John. The guy you shot didn't die! What was it, Charles or something?"
Before John had time to respond, they had already arrived at the spot.
"Mr. Eaker! How was the rest of your show?"
"I'd rather skip the pleasantries, let's go." They took their spots and Eaker spoke again. "Grab your pistol."
"Confer with your men. The duel will commence after we count to ten." Philip turned around and took a deep breath, while John was trying not to watch but wanting to watch at the same time. "Look him in the eye, aim no higher. Summon all the courage you require, then slowly and surely aim your gun towards the sky!"
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven-"
"PIP!" John's eyes grew wide as he saw Eaker turn around and shoot Philip, three counts before 10.
Philip collapsed and the doctor rushed towards him, carrying him to the boat with the help of Philip's second. John flew behind him as they rowed him back across the Hudson. There was so much blood, it reminded him of the war.
Soon, they arrived at the hospital where they took him into a room and started fixing up his wound. "Pip.."
"J-John, I-I'm s-sorry."
"I know, I know." John could feel tears falling down his face as he took one of Philip's hands and placed it in his own.
"I-I'm sor-"
The door flew open and Alexander ran in, sitting beside where Philip lay. Soon, tears started for Alex too, and Philip followed shortly after.
"P-Pa. I-I did exactly as you said, Pop. I held my head up high."
"I know, I know."
"I-"
"I know, I know, I know, you did everything just right."
"E-even before we got to ten, Pop. I was aiming for the sky. I was aiming for the sky-"
"I know, save your strength and stay alive!" At this Eliza burst into the room, tears already cascading down her face. "Eliza!"
"Is he breathing? Is he going to survive this? Who did this, Alexander did you know?"
"Ma, I'm so sorry, for forgetting what you taught me." Eliza's face softened and she placed her hand on Philip's cheek, wiping his tears away.
"My son."
"We played piano." Eliza managed to force a sad smile at her son, as she knew this would be the last time she would ever talk to him again.
"I taught you piano."
"You would put your hands on mine,"
"You changed the melody every time."
"I would always change the line,"
"Shh, I know, I know."
"I would always change the line."
"I know, I know, I know,"
"Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf."
"Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf."
"Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf."
"Un, deux, trois…"
John watched in pain as the light faded from Philip's eyes, and the doctor leaned over to close them. All he could think about was the promise he made for Philip, all those years ago. He had failed to protect him.
And, just as soon as the light had left him, his soul rose from his body and looked around the room, a mix of fear and shock and sadness mixed into his expression.
"Am I..?"
Philip locked eyes with John, and he slowly nodded and gestured to his crying parents.
"I'm sorry."
"No, Pip, don't be sorry."
Philip hugged his mother goodbye, and together he and John walked out the door, into the other side.