dearest, comma

Summary: Angelica and Alexander finally talk about their letters, set during "Take a Break".

"You never did answer my question, you know."

The Hamilton house was quiet, for once, the way it only ever was at night. Eliza had put Philip to bed hours ago, retreating soon afterwards herself. Alexander, ever vigilant with scores of candles burned down to waxy stubs, went to his office once dinner had been finished, and Angelica, unable to help herself, had followed. To see him in his natural habitat was a gift, the soles on his wooden chair worn, papers stacked high on either side of his desk. Empty ink bottles were crammed onto every inch of desk and dress not covered by paper. A spare shirt was hung up on the dresser's doorknob, quills scattered over the table.

She had meant to be teasing, but something in her voice couldn't quite manage it.

Alexander tore his bleary eyes away from his papers. "I'm afraid I forget what that question was." But something in his eyes told her he hadn't, that he had thought about it just as much as she had. There had been so many weeks in between their latest letters, one more so than usual, and she'd wondered if he'd spent days with his quil half raised, agonizing over whether to make that faithful, dark curve on white parchment.

"It's late," he continued, never one to be silent for long. "Perhaps we should both retire to bed—"

"Did you mean it?" she whispered, eyes brown and soulful in the candlelight. Her cheeks heated up, knowing that she should have been stronger than this. That Hamilton had been married to her sister for ten years now, they had children together, and she lived on another continent—he shouldn't have been able to set her heart aflame like this, still.

And she'd never been able to stop herself, had she? The wedding toast, the letters, even asking such a thing of him... it was dangerous territory, dangerous wanting of the one thing she could not, under any circumstances have. What answer did she even want? If it was the one half of her heart wanted, it would leap with joy; and if it was the one the other half of her heart wanted, the one that had made that decision a million years ago, she'd want Alexander to be faithful to her sister and her sister alone, to not even entertain thoughts of her in the slightest, to—

"Yes."

He was standing now, moving towards her, dark tresses falling along his shoulders and the collar of his shirt.

Her breath caught in her throat, and Angelica swallowed. She felt speechless all over again. "Oh."

"I know that perhaps I shouldn't have," he admitted, stepping closer, and something flared in her chest. Well, she thought shortly, at least he's self-aware. "But I fear that on ink, we are... rather more truthful than we are in life."

"The truth can be a terrible thing," she said thickly, composing herself.

"And a beautiful thing." He reached for her wrist, and she let him take it in a moment of weakness. "Angelica..."

"I think you were right, we should go to bed—"

"My dearest," he said softly, and she stilled, daring herself to look up into his warm eyes.

In another life, perhaps, she would have stepped into his arms and kissed him. Tangled her fingers through his when they wore matching wedding wings. Heard the term of endearment as many times as she wished—over and over again, murmured into her hair upon waking, in between guttural moans as he pushed her up against his desk and she helped him hike up her skirts.

But this was not her life, and she stepped away, drawing her arm back to herself. Because she had left the comma out of her letter, had written My dearest Alexander before her heart could make her do otherwise.

She managed to smile at him. "Goodnight, Alexander."

She could feel his eyes on her as she left, shutting the door of his study close. Maybe it was more dangerous for him to come with them Upstate for the summer, but she wanted him to anyway. Even if it would hurt, at least he would be next to her, and next to her sister.

Angelica sighed once she reached his room, low and torn between heartbreak and relief.

Even when he was right next to her, he would always be a moment away.