Come make your peace, come find your way
Come lay your wreath at the alter of change
(~)
He calls in sick to work the next day (the secretaries are stunned).
He holds her hand while they give her a sedative for the biopsy.
He threatens six nurses and two doctors, and they agree (very reluctantly) to let him stay.
She smooths a line on his forehead and tells him not to worry, he is too young and good looking for worry lines.
It successfully makes him laugh, and that puts a smile on her face.
He squeezes her hand and tells her not to distract herself by dreaming about some young, virile movie star.
She tells him if Christopher Jackson comes away to spirit her off, she's not saying no, full disclosure.
He sees them prepping what looks to be the biggest needle in the world, and he forces himself not to panic at the thought that they plan to stick this thing (has to be at least four feet long) inside his wife.
The nurses drape Eliza with sterile dressings, leaving room around her lung area. He notices how they pile more blankets around her chest, like they are shielding the biopsy area from view. He thinks it odd and a bit pointless, given that she can't see it, but then realizes. Perhaps it's not just for her.
They clean her skin and inject her with the anesthetic. She inhales sharply but does not move.
He moves his hand to her hair and strokes the black strands.
The doctor smiles at Eliza, in an expression that is probably meant to be comforting, but there is nothing about this situation that will allow either of them to be comforted.
"Okay, hon, we're going to get started. You ready?"
Eliza does not respond. Her head is turned away from him, but she gives a small nod.
He squeezes her hand and turns to the doctor.
"She's ready."
In hindsight, it's probably a pretty quick process. And the doctor and nurse are calm as they work. As if this is just another day to them (which it probably is).
It takes everything in him not to tense, and to keep his hand gently stroking Eliza's hair as they lift the needle (seven feet, easy) to his wife's body.
He knows the exact moment the biopsy needle makes contact, because her brown eyes spill over with tears.
He strokes them away with his thumb, wishes desperately that he could do more.
What does Eliza do in situations like this? Usually, she can be found in prayer, he remembers. Eliza is religious, he knows. She goes to church most Sundays, prays before dinner. It brings her great comfort. She leaned on her faith during the death of her father. And Philip. He's never found the same comfort in it, but if it helps Eliza, he's willing to give it a try.
He folds his hands over hers and fixes his eyes on the floor.
He only knows one thing to say. In his head, he repeats the words firmly, no tremble in his voice.
"If you need to take someone; if you need a pound of flesh, you don't take her, you hear me? If you need a life, you take me. My wife is needed."
He doesn't suppose he has much clout with God but perhaps if he asks on Eliza's behalf, the powers that be would see how little she and their children deserved this.
The world had taken their son. To give his wife cancer as well is surely an injustice that cannot exist.
(~)
The thought is really fucking funny considering what happens not one hour later.
Adenocarcinoma.
Stage 3.
Surgery is scheduled for removal of lymph nodes the cancer (cancer) has spread to, a lobectomy for the affected part of the lung.
(~)
She's waiting in recovery while the doctor tells him.
He doesn't even let the man finish.
He knows from one look at her that they've told her already.
The tears start before he can control it, and he falls into her arms.
He feels her arms wrap around him. He feels the tears soaking her hospital gown. He feels his fingers press so hard into her that it must bruise.
His wife has cancer.
Her fingers brush tears from his cheeks, he rests his head on her chest and lets the tears flow.
And a new feeling begins to take over his consciousness, one that will not go away for a good long while.
He supposes now he will have to get used to feeling in a constant state of dread and fear.
(~)
She begs, and they let her go home for the night.
They tell the children individually. Angelica…he isn't sure she understands. She has been in therapy since Philip but often, she exists in her own world, no matter how hard they try to pull her to theirs.
He sees fifteen year old Alex Jr. and thirteen year James clench their fingers into fists and he knows they are trying to be strong.
Eliza brushes her fingers over Alex Jr.'s cheeks and takes James' hand, and that's all it takes before she is holding her oldest boys against her as they sob into her pyjamas.
Alex Jr. mumbles incoherently into his mother's chest. Alexander hears only snatches but does catch "don't go", and "mommy" from his teenage son.
John and William have a similar reaction. They cling tightly to their mother (along with their brothers, who haven't yet let go.
He knows little Elizabeth doesn't understand, but she feels the atmosphere of the room as she promptly bursts into tears. They tell her mommy is sick and needs to stay in the hospital for a little while, and another child is added to the pile.
Alexander leads Angelica over to the bed, and slides in beside Eliza, and the whole family grieves together.
Eliza's bravery stuns Alexander. She wipes tears from her babies' faces, squeezes his hand and brushes his hair away from his face.
He knows this will be their lives from now on. The first word on everyone's mind will be cancer. It will be the first thing people who see them think, it'll be the only thought on his children's minds, he can't think anything else.
His wife has cancer, and now cancer is their lives.
Eliza has lung cancer, stage three, having never smoked a day in her life. Having been nothing but good and just and true.
And her husband has never been any of those things.
He wonders how long something like this takes to become "real". Don't mistake, he heard the doctors. He's a smart man, and he knows what this means. Despite his upbringing, he is learned, and with Herc and Laurens on his side, he knows the meaning of words like carcinoma, malignant and long term management.
But still, Alexander Hamilton is a fighter. He stands up to his enemies and punches them in the nose (verbally. Usually).
And this invisible enemy invading his wife's body has a name but no form. He cannot fight this for her. He cannot rip it from her, not even to bear it himself.
All of that just feels...surreal.
Especially given the last few years. He supposes he had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, after Maria Reynolds, and Philip.
But this still feels cruel.
Next week Alexander Hamilton has to take his wife to have surgery to cut out a piece of her lung.
Then they will point radiation into her.
Then they will give her drugs that will make her sick and weak and make her hair fall out and all of this for a shot at keeping her alive.
At keeping what was left of their family standing.
He doesn't know if he can do this.
But he made a promise.
Several promises, actually. He promised Eliza at their wedding that he would be there in sickness and health, he promised his children he would be there for them, he promised Eliza that they would go through this together.
And in a life of broken promises, this is one he will die to keep.
(~)
How long will I love you
As long as stars are above you
And longer if I may