A/N…just….see the end of the chapter.
And I STRONGLY recommend listening to Always/Goodnight while you read from the ficmix here:
8tracks sadie-reay /hold-me-till-it-sleeps-a-fanmix
I know I wasn't perfect
I know my life was small
I know that I pretended that I knew it all
But when you tell my story
And I hope somebody does
Remember me as something
Bigger than I was
And I thought I was tough.
Life moves in moments, moments that race by and drag on at the same time. Alex doesn't think he can truly explain it. You can't really know, not unless you've been there.
Which is odd to say, because he has the words for everything. He is never without words, written or spoken.
Eliza has teased him about it for years.
But he has nothing.
He's been thinking recently, though.
About where he is, about where he started. That bright-eyed nineteen year old he once was feels like another life, one he never lived.
That person he was before Eliza.
He doesn't recognize that person anymore.
It doesn't feel like him.
He doesn't feel like him without Eliza.
What feels like forever ago, he tried to picture his life without her.
He couldn't then.
But things are different.
/I'm sorry/
- I run for us all-
Eliza doesn't leave their room. She can't. She is too weak to move. In point of fact, their room is now the de facto family room. The children spend all their time there. They sleep there. They do their homework there. A pile of toys sits in the corner for Elizabeth and William. The older boys have moved their x-box in there.
Like typical teens, they sit and play for hours.
Unlike typical teens though, they sit in the crook of their mother's arm, while one thin hand strokes their hair, and chapped lips press kisses to their cheeks.
Mommy had a hurt on her inside and the doctors took it out. The tube is helping the inside of her body get better.
He keeps up his new role of running the household.
He tries to fill the time.
He makes sure she's as comfortable as she can be.
He makes sure the children are cared for.
He is avoiding her.
He can't look at her.
They both know it.
So one day, she corners him.
Well, corners him as best she can from her bedbound state. He's tidying the room, tripping over game CDs, trying to put the room back in order, knowing at least two children will be sleeping in the bed with them tonight, when he hears his name called softly.
She beckons him to her, and he hesitates.
He hesitates to sit with his dying wife.
He sits gingerly, nervously,
She gives him a serene smile (that quiet grace pervades her nowadays).
/There's no worrying here/
"Help me up, please," she whispers.
He shifts his arms around her and props her up on the pillows. He can see how much energy this takes out of her already, he knows she's in pain. He makes a note to talk to her new doctor about a morphine pump.
She takes his face in her hands.
Her shaking hands stroke his hair; her thumbs pass over his cheeks.
He looks at her.
His wife.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, then kicks himself mentally for the stupid question.
"Fine." They still lie to each other sometimes.
"You don't…need anything?"
She nods. "Yes, I do."
"What do you need?"
Her thumbs rest on his cheekbones, the gentle pressure of her bony fingers radiating warmth through his body.
His wife.
/You need to face it together/
'I need you to say it."
He doesn't need to ask what he means.
Remember that picture?
He can see it.
A life without Eliza.
A life as a single father, as a senator.
A life where his wife just fades away.
And that though, oh god. That though terrifies him more than anything he has ever experienced.
The rest of his life. Without Eliza.
The words do not reach what he feels.
"Alexander," she whispers. "You need to say it."
Life without Eliza.
"No,' he rises abruptly, paces, runs a hand through his hair. "Don't talk like that Eliza, the chemo is working. It will work."
"Maybe," she smiles. "Maybe not."
"No, it will. Why are you…you can't just…"
"Darling," she holds her hand out to him, guides him back to the bed, settles herself in front of him.
/I'm fine, baby/
"Alexander," she whispers. "You need to say it. You need to face it."
He wipes frantically at his eyes, and shakes his head.
She lays a hand on his cheek.
"It might not work. I may die."
It's that word that does it. That word that he can't comprehend, can't handle, can't hear.
He startles so suddenly she is nearly knocked back.
"No!" he yells. "Do not say that. You can't even think it, Eliza."
"Pretending it doesn't exist will not help, my love. We have to prepare."
She settles against the pillows, pulls him so he is by her side. Her fingers hold his face so he cannot start away.
"I'm sick, Alexander. And I'm tired, so tired."
"You could take a nap," his voice is very small, like a child's.
She smiles, moves her fingers so they gently take his hands in hers.
"That won't help. If I die, I need to know you'll be okay."
He shakes his head again, but for a different reason.
"Alexander," she soothes. "You can't worry about me. I'll be okay. I'll have Peggy. And Philip. And my parents. But you…I need to know you'll survive this. I can't do this until I know you'll be okay."
"I can't." The words are a sharp exhale. Fast. Desperate.
"You can't what, darling?"
"You must," she implores. "We have six children here who need you. You can't abandon them. You have to be strong."
"But I'm not the strong one, don't you get it?!" he bursts out. "I never was. That was always you."
She feels wetness on her fingers and realizes tears are spilling from his cheeks, the first time she's seen him cry since she was diagnosed.
And after that, the floodgates open, and the sobs burst through. She can barely understand him through the heaving cries.
"Please Eliza, you don't…please don't….I need…don't leave, stay…"
She pulls his head against her chest and cards her fingers through his long hair as he sobs, their hearts breaking together. He clings to her, lying nearly on top of her.
"Please Eliza, oh please, please don't…."
She strokes his hair soothingly, presses kisses to his head.
"Alex," she says into his hair. "Look around. Look at our life. Look at our children. How lucky we were to be alive right now."
He clings to her like she's his tether. She's not. She can't be.
But she's not afraid.
It's beautiful over there, she knows. Peggy waits for her, her baby boy is there.
God, she can't wait to see him again.
-I held a jewel in my fingers and went to sleep -
Eliza is rushed to the hospital the next day, struggling to breathe, and is put on a ventilator.
Her husband sits by her side, holding her hand and stroking her cheek, looking decades older than his 44 years.
/Alex. I have cancer. /
There's a soft knock on the door. Alex looks up, finding Eliza's new doctor in the doorway.
An imposing, six foot man, he gently takes Alex's arm and leads him out.
It's been so long, so many doctors, Alex can tell what he's going to say by the expression on his face.
Before he even opens his mouth, Alexander speaks.
"Don't even say it, Doctor."
The man sighs. "Alexander, she's tired."
Denial rises in Alexander. He whips his head back and forth, like a child in a tantrum.
"There's got to be something else. Something we haven't tried yet."
Eliza doesn't want this, that traitorous part of his mind reminds him. She wants you to let her go.
Alexander Hamilton loves his wife. He loves his wife so much more than he loves himself. He would do anything for his wife. He would move mountains, empty oceans, indulge any request she could give.
She wants this.
He doesn't want to give it to her.
"It's not over," he whispers. "It can't be over."
She's awake. Dark eyes watch the doctor.
Her eyes are accepting. Peaceful.
He can see the pain through her body.
He knows her whole being hurts.
But her eyes are at peace.
He lowers his head to rest on her pillow, mindful of the ventilator that is keeping his wife's broken body alive.
"We were supposed to have forever."
/You are my wife. We go through this together/
He looks at her, really looks at her, for the first time in a long time. Her skin is yellowed and pale, too pale from its usual olive, and paper-thin. A scarf is wrapped round her head, her forehead is sweating. She is so skinny he fears he could break her.
She is sick. Really sick. And the treatment isn't working.
And yet when her eyes open he sees his Eliza, the one he married. The girl with the shining blue dress and the beautiful brown eyes that he fell for so instantly.
The girl who has been the one constant in his hurricane of a life.
She is the eye of the storm for him. The anchor. And without her…..
He leads the doctor out of the room, and the man heaves a sigh and robotically repeats their options.
He should tell her. It should be him, Doctor Washington tells him.
He doesn't want this.
She can't talk, he knows, through the oxygen mask, but they haven't needed actual words in a long time.
/She's ready/
"Love," his voice breaks and he knows exactly how hard this will be.
"The doctor said…he said we have a choice. You have a choice."
He takes a shuddering breath in, and feels her hand come to rest lightly on his.
Even now, as he is talking her through what may be the last decision she will make, she is comforting him.
"He said there is one more thing we can try. A clinical trial, I guess. It's had good luck with lung cancer so far. But….but it'll be hard. And if it doesn't work, there's…" he breaks off in a sob.
"There's nothing he can do after that."
Her hand lightly strokes his. His eyes rest gently on her.
"Or…" he can barely bring himself to say it. He still can barely think of a world without Eliza.
"Or he can switch to palliative care. He said."
Her expression doesn't change. Why would it, he thinks? She has known this was coming for a long time. Certainly faced it before he did.
/Alexander. I need you/
"Eliza. I know you're tired. I know you're so tired. And this is your choice. But…."
This time a real sob breaks through, but she has only the strength to twine her fingers through his.
"Please. I need you."
He knows what she wants.
- come what may, I will love you until my dying day-
The soundtrack to his life is the steady beeps of the heart monitor and the sniffles of his children.
Eliza lies still. She hasn't woken in days. The tubes are gone. Only the IV remains, to keep her pain away.
He was supposed to do that. He failed.
Her favorite scarf is wrapped around her head, though her hair had started to grow back. It was the scarf the children had made for her.
It was quiet William's idea. He had bought a plain white scarf, and fabric markers. One day he had laid both out on the table and carefully drawn six sections on the scarf. One for each of them, he said. So mommy can feel beautiful.
/She has no problem with pain, doc. Seven kids and married to me/
They had each taken their turn, the tears plentiful. Elizabeth's was full of bright colors, and the word "mommy" over and over, once James had taught her to write it. William had plopped all of his books down and chosen his favorite passages, writing each down in his best writing (it had taken hours and he had never relented). On John's, section, he had drawn a flower. Beautiful, intricate blue petals adorn the portion allocated to his toughest, least emotional son.
"Mom loves blue," he had choked out, and Alexander had wrapped him in a tight hug, his eleven-year-old son sobbing in his arms.
Alex Jr. had taken the least time. He had written only four words. The tears start fresh when he sees them. His oldest son, his mature, nearly grown sixteen-year-old son had written, "I love you Mommy," in plain black.
Angelica had drawn a picture. She hadn't let anyone else see. But Alex looks as they wrap it. Angelica sees, but seems okay with it. She smooths her hand over the fabric. It's a picture of Philip and Eliza. They are locked in an embrace, Eliza's hair long, both dressed in white. Healthy. Radiant.
Alex wonders if he will run out of tears.
Eliza had hardly taken it off since. She was so very sick when they gave it to her, but had demanded they put it on immediately, tears flowing as she looked at each contribution. Alex had obediently put it on her.
And then looked at his wife in what their children had made for her and felt those damn tears pool.
"You look beautiful," he'd whispered.
She had given each child a kiss. "My babies," she sighed. "My beautiful babies."
Alexander missed her voice already.
/And their time is running out/
-breathe, just breathe -
The doctors said it could be any time.
None of them have left her side.
They hug her, kiss her, hold her hand.
He knows she would have wanted them all here.
/He will not let his family break again/
Others tell him that his children are just children, why would you let them see this?
Because this is a part of it too, he realizes. They go through this together. And that includes this part, this final step.
He strokes her limp hand, breathes words of love into her skin, hopes with everything he has that she knows he's there.
And then the heart monitor begins to change pace.
The children don't even stir.
They know.
They've accepted it.
She's accepted it.
But he needs to feel her close to him, just one more time.
Just one more moment for the rest of his life.
The heart monitor slows, he can hear it, and he makes a decision in moment.
He brings the long forgotten wheelchair up to the bed, and lowers his arms to pick up his wife.
He lowers them both down to the chair and rests her fragile body in his lap.
She weighs next to nothing, and sags limply against him. He settles her and breathes her in.
With one hand on the wheel, he spins them slowly and sings without realizing it.
Dry away the tears
Lay aside your fears
No more pain, for my love
I am here, now go to sleep
The children gather at the foot of the wheelchair. Alex feels her sighing against him, her breath slow.
Was it actually possible to die inside?
His wife.
And when the angels come
I know that they will treat you well
That they will pull you through
And lift you up from all that's held you down
Her breath comes in small gasps.
He loves her so much.
There's a heaven up there
And it waits just for you
So close your eyes and dream
And there will be a world you once knew
Tears seem inconsequential now.
He feels like his heart is being carved out of his chest.
As if Eliza was a part of him, and his heart hurts as if that part is being physically torn away.
This is for her.
This is for her.
"You save me a spot, okay?" he sobs.
"And tell Philip that daddy misses him. He better keep you company."
A world without the pain
That has stuck with you for far too long
A world that does contain a love like mine
To watch you grow strong
Her breath slows, but doesn't stop. He wonders why. Then realizes.
This is for her.
"It's okay," he ducks his head down to whisper in her ear.
"You've been so brave, so long. You go. We'll be okay."
/Let her fly/
Her breath slows further, until he can barely feel the exhalations. He hears James wail.
His lips to her ear, he keeps talking. Just like always.
"It's okay, I'm right here. We're all here, we're with you. You can go. You save a spot for me up there, okay? Don't be scared. It's a beautiful place. A place with no more doctors, or tests or tears or pain. No more cancer, no more chemo, you'll be free. Just close your eyes. Go to sleep, I'll be right here."
And when my time arrives
Please wait and make a place for me
For when I do arrive
Your face should be the first face I see
He hears the whine.
He feels the breath stop.
He sees the children wail.
But he only sings.
So dry away the tears
Lay aside your fears
No more pain, for my love
It is time
Now go to sleep
He lays her on the bed, the children cuddle around her. He kisses her forehead.
He loves her.
His wife.
His wife.
She's free.
-I've never been this bare-
Epilogue:
"Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton is impossible to eulogize. I cannot….I cannot stand up here and give a eulogy for her, because the words are not there. There are not enough words to describe what my wife was to me."
The ceremony is on the beach.
Like where they got married again.
People wear jeans. Casual clothes. Dresses flap in the breeze.
His children clutch her favorite scarf, and each other.
"Eliza and I met when she was 22. She was this…beautiful, sophisticated girl. She loved horses and singing, and, for some reason, me. Eliza could have had anyone she wanted, but she chose me. And I'm afraid; sometimes I didn't honor the magnitude of that privilege as much as I should. She deserved so much more than me. And I know it's selfish but…I will always be thankful that I am the person she chose. She gave me 22 years, the best years of my life. Her legacy lives on in our children, even after she's gone. And that legacy….I can't think of a better one."
They aren't the best words he's ever said.
He doesn't have any more pretty words.
He has his children.
But he's alone.
He is the only one scheduled to eulogize her. And that's ridiculous, because he has no words.
Maybe he'll never have words again.
But he does have the small comfort that nothing can hurt worse than this.
Except when they ask if anyone else would like to say a few words about Eliza.
And, with reluctance, Thomas Jefferson stands.
Alexander doesn't fight.
He's lost all fight.
The fight has left him when they took everything he believed in, and put her in the ground.
So he doesn't protest when Jefferson stands.
"I don't know if any of you know me, but I professionally argue with that guy," Thomas grins, pointing to Alexander.
"And it may also surprise you to know that I knew Eliza too. In 2005, he was kicking my ass pretty good in elections. And since you all don't know me very well, I'll also set the record straight right now: I'm a bit of a bastard. So I sold a story to a tabloid about Alexander cheating with some random girl. Completely false, but I did it anyway."
Jefferson breaks away in a chuckle as Alexander sits tensely, shooting him a death glare that plainly read at my wife's funeral, Jefferson? In front of my children?
"Oh god, did I pay for that. Because, you see, I deeply underestimated Eliza, and the influence she had on those around me. In the next two months, my laundry services were cancelled, my car service kept mysteriously breaking down, my appointments would change around every single day so I never made it to a single meeting, and nobody wanted to associate with me. I went to the hospital one day and sat in the ER for ten hours before getting through triage. It got so bad that one day I showed up in tennis shorts and a polo shirt for a meeting with the secret service, two hours late."
He gives a barking laugh. "Needless to say, I never messed with the Hamiltons again."
Alex is almost sure he sees tears in Jefferson's eyes as he continues.
"Eight months ago, I got the flu. Sickest I've been in decades, and I still dragged my ass into work. Only to find, all my daily appointments had been rescheduled. On my desk was a bottle of Pepto Bismol, sleeping medication, a stash of Kleenex, a few magazines and a thermos of soup. On the soup a note had been attached. It said 'not taking care of yourself when you can barely move doesn't make you a hero, it makes you an idiot. E.S.H'. "
Thomas breaks off to heave a cough that sounded a lot like a sob into his hand.
"This woman, whose husband I had tortured for years, whose reputation I had dragged through the mud, had made me the best chicken soup I've had in…shit, in forever, and made sure I was taken care of and tended to. She rescheduled all my appointments and bought me medication and arranged for my ride home. All while taking care of six children and fighting a disease that was slowly taking over her body. I couldn't quite believe it."
This time, the tears in his eyes are unmistakable.
"You know, for years, people around me have attached different words to my name. Arrogant, smart, driven, but the ones that really stand out are ones like strong and tough and brave. I guess we all like to believe we are. Over the years those have certainly been ascribed to me."
Another cough/sob, and a frantic pinch of his nose. Jefferson closed his eyes tightly before continuing.
"But the truth is, I never was. This woman, though. If I had….if I have a tenth, a fraction of the strength she showed every single day, then I count myself as a much better person. The thing is...you always say something like this is something you'd never wish on your worst enemy. Now I know for Hamilton, that worst enemy would be me, and he probably expects me to say him. But god, man. I was...I am….so jealous of you."
"This sucks, yes. Actually, that's probably the mildest way to put it. This is the worst thing we could have thought of, but look what you got. You got 20 years with this amazing woman, seven great kids, and a life together. I would give anything for that. And I know that's cold comfort now and maybe always, but you were so lucky. Anyone who saw you two knew it."
An actual sob, and he didn't even try to hide it this time.
"Elizabeth Hamilton exists in all of us now. And we are all so, so lucky to have known her. Your wife, Hamilton….she changed all of us. We're different; we're better, because we were lucky enough to have known her. And if a piece of her exists in all of us, she's never gone."
It ends with sons
It ends with wives
It ends with knowing when the pavement bends
We find our lives
A/N:
I'm just…..
I…
SO
FUCKING
SORRY.
Believe me I hate me for this.
This fic has been amazing to write. And fuck, look how far I got in it!
YELL AT ME I DESERVE THIS.