Mayyyyybbbee this will be 13 or 14 chapters.
I can't stop and yet I can't seem to write with any kind of consistency.
But the people have spoken and they want a fanmix, so a ficmix you get. Follow the link:
www . 8tracks sadie-reay hold-me-till-it-sleeps-a-fanmix
As always, read, comment and enjoy!
What if I told you
I could lose you?
If I waited,
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow
May be too late
Hey, here's something that's important, going forward:
Alexander Hamilton is an idiot.
But it's actually worse than that. Everyone knew Alexander Hamilton is an idiot. Why else would he have essentially neglected his family? Or slept with a 23 year old groupie?
Yes, everyone knew he was an idiot, but in this instance, he was a particular idiot because he had thought that was it.
That the cancer, the chemo, the exhaustion, the overwhelming feelings of helplessness, that was as bad as it got.
See? Idiot.
Of course it got worse. Actually, more than one thing got worse.
And it would of course, happen on the same day.
Eliza had been doing so well. They had been doing so well. Their family had been doing well.
And then one morning he wakes and she is not in his arms as she usually is (she always told him he was clingy when he slept). Nor is she even in the bed.
No, instead he finds her in the bathroom, passed out with her head on the toilet seat and vomit soaking her clothing, the sharp scent permeating the whole top floor.
Again, he thanks God for his children, because James and Alex Jr. automatically get up and start getting everyone ready when their mother doesn't, and blissfully, don't ask any questions.
He holds his breath and steps gingerly over to her.
"Eliza," he whispers. "Eliza, honey, wake up."
She wakes.
But she wakes only to keep vomiting.
He forces some water into her and she throws it back up.
Her head lolls and she is too exhausted to sit up.
Alexander props her against the bathroom wall, tosses the keys to James and Alex Jr. and tells them to get the driver to take them to school, and runs back into the bedroom.
He grabs some spare PJs for Eliza and drags her into the bathtub, fully clothed. She fists his shirt. Drags him into an embrace. They are both covered in vomit, and he makes a decision in a split second. Drawing her onto his lap, he runs a tub of water. She lies limply on top of him, in an entirely un-Eliza way.
At first, he thinks the water droplets that hit his shirt are kickback from the spray, but he feels her shoulders shake and knows better.
She cries into his shirt, and her cries turn into heaving sobs, fragments of words mangled into them.
"Useless…can't even stand….how am I….Alex.."
He thinks he catches snatches of something that sounds like so long. He rubs her back.
"Eliza, how long has this been going on?"
She doesn't meet his eyes, but mumbles through tears. Not usually this bad.
He curls a finger under her cheek and brings her teary face to meet his.
"Have you been sick during the night before?"
Her lack of response is a response in itself.
His back goes rigid. "For how long?"
"Few days."
"Eliza, you should have told me.
"You had enough."
"You are my wife. We go through this together."
This starts a new round of sobs, with no end in sight.
He lowers both of them into the bath, fully clothed.
It's a full hour, and the water has long since turned cold and he has promised he will make the doctors change her chemo, this won't happen again (it's a lie and they both know it, but she accepts it anyway), when he declares her clean enough. He helps her into her pajamas and lays her in the bed, where she falls asleep almost instantly.
And then he gets the call from the school.
The nurse he had hired but never used arrives within twenty minutes. He feels equal parts pulled out the front door to go to his daughter, and unable to leave his wife with a stranger.
He probably breaks several speed laws on the way to the high school. He finds the principal, Angie's teacher, and a few other people huddled around the bathroom door. The girl's bathroom. Of course.
Angie had asked to go to the bathroom, they told him. Ten minutes later, the teacher was about to send someone looking for her when three girls ran into the class and told the teacher that Angie was in the bathroom, shrieking and hooting.
"Like an animal," they had said. She had growled at them.
When they asked her what she was doing, she had burst into random shrieks and shouts. They were scared. They thought she was crazy.
The teacher tells him that Angie had been acting strangely for the past few months. Since Philip, she says.
(Alexander still winces at the name).
But she had always been manageable. They had always been able to calm her down. Until today.
Today she seemed to have no idea who (or what) or where she was.
He opens the door to the toilet gingerly.
He's never been in a women's bathroom before. Well, that's not true. One time, when he and Eliza were younger and they were in that new lovers phase and…
His attention is redirected at the sight of his disheveled daughter, her eyes focused on the fluorescent lights above her.
"Angie? Angel, what's going on?"
She's sitting on a bank of sinks. She turns to look at him and her face lights up.
"Daddy! Oh daddy, you should have been here! We were having such fun! Where did you go?"
"Angel…" he makes his way to her, pulls her down from the sink, rests his hands on her cheeks.
"Angelica, do you know where you are? Do you know what happened?"
Her brow furrows into a look of absolutely genuine confusion.
"Of course, Daddy. Will you come play with us?"
"Us?" he squeaks.
She nods brightly. "Me and Philip. We're having such a good time."
And this is all the reminder he needs that things in his life don't get better, they only get worse.
He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pushes the door open, leading her out of the bathroom. The principal beckons them towards her office. By this time, students have started to filter out into the halls. They stare at Alexander and Angelica, whispering to each other. Alexander wraps a protective arm around his daughter. They have no idea, his mind screams. They have no idea what Angelica has been through. How dare they judge her?
"Mr. Hamilton," the principal sighs. "We can't continue on like this. This isn't good for Angelica."
He shakes his head. This can't be happening, not now.
"She's just having a rough day. She isn't…she needs school right now. She needs stability."
"Mr. Hamilton, she is not stable right now. I understand things are difficult with Mrs. Hamilton at home –"
"What's she talking about, Daddy?" Angelica interjects. "What's wrong with Mom?"
The principal points to his daughter with one hand, as if to indicate, "do you see what I mean?"
Remember when he said he was an idiot? He is an even bigger idiot now, because he has no idea how to handle this.
He knows full well that his reputation precedes him. He should be gearing up for a fight. He should fight for his daughter's right to remain in school, for the tiny bit of stability his family has left.
But he is just so goddamned tired. It's like the fight has been sucked right out of him.
They slide a few pamphlets of therapeutic programs toward him; tell him Angelica may come back when she's stable, that they are here for any questions or concerns. Alex Jr., James and soon John still attend school here. He can't avoid these people. He can't avoid everyone knowing how badly his family is falling apart.
Eliza is awake when he gets home. But weak. She looks so much older, so much more tired.
He tells her quickly and she helps him (as best she can) get Angie settled into bed (she had nearly fallen asleep on the car ride home, the day's events exhausting her) before she curls up in their bed, pale-faced and in shock.
Cancer and mental illness rearing their ugly heads. What a day.
He lays his head in his hands, far too tired to sleep.
Eliza's head rests gently on his shoulder. Her hand moves across his back in circles.
He's so tired. So very, very tired.
He doesn't know what to do anymore.
In the proceeding weeks, Angelica is entered into a treatment program. They don't promise it will be entirely outpatient.
He can't even think of checking his daughter into a psychiatric hospital.
Eliza goes to chemo most days. She and Tia still have many of the same days, and he knows that cheers her a bit, but the effects are now past simple exhaustion, and it is terrible.
Eliza vomits, is too weak to stand, can't eat so her weight drops frighteningly fast.
One day, as she lies in bed, Angelica tells her "Mom, Philip says you look like a ghost. He says he would know."
That's worse than the treatment.
Electoral season picks up just as the first cycle of treatment finishes, and Alexander tries his damndest to serve both masters, to garner votes and still be there for his family.
One advisor suggests using the sympathy vote, telling voters to vote because his wife is sick.
Alexander narrowly avoids punching him.
Jefferson grins smugly at him over the latest numbers and remarks "you sleeping, Hamilton?"
Another fight is narrowly avoided.
He gets up at 5am with Eliza, smoothing her hair back as she retches into the toilet and mopping up the bathroom floor (the maid already comes five times a week and it's not enough).
Eliza rises to help get the children ready for school. She insists on this, though she can barely stand. So, functionally, Alexander helps her help them and the process takes over an hour.
Then he leaves Eliza with the nurse (or sometimes drops her off at the clinic) and heads to work.
He's home by four-thirty, helps the children with their homework, tries his best not to crack and order takeout for dinner, sets the children to sleep, and makes sure Eliza has taken all of her medications.
Bed comes around 1am, but sleep does not.
He gets, on average, three hours of sleep a night.
He'd love to say it doesn't affect him, but it does.
He actually does hit Jefferson once, when the smug asshole hadn't said anything different than his usual taunts.
Why Jefferson doesn't report it, he doesn't really understand.
He yells at James about a typo in a report once, and makes the boy cry. James locks himself in his room for the rest of the night and will not hear any apologies.
He sees Madison's unimpressed expressions when he notes how lackluster he is, how halfhearted his work has become. He is well aware that Madison is grooming him to go far, but he can't be bothered to care about disappointing his boss.
Eliza starts her second, more intense round of chemo while they struggle to find their new normal. Her hair falls out and she cries. He is tempted to as well. He's aware it's just hair, sure, but the loss just makes it so much more official.
His wife is sick. His wife has cancer.
He asks her if she wants him to shave his head too (he'd do it, he loves his long hair but he'd do it in a heartbeat) but she tells him not to.
One day, he stops by Saks and buys the prettiest, most expensive scarf he can find and doesn't care how much it costs.
He presents it to her and nearly cries when her face lights in a smile.
He helps her wrap it around her head and when he's done, he slides his hands down to her cheeks and appraises her.
She looks at him with trepidation that feels almost silly. She's never not beautiful to him. He presses a long kiss to her cheek and tells her this.
She does cry after that.
It's the small moments, he is learning.
Maybe he didn't appreciate them before, but these small moments in a world so overwhelming are all that matters now.
I won't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive
And the grand tradition of sucky ending continues!
I think we may have a small interlude from the unrelenting angst in the next chapter!