Chapter Text
August 30th 1782, 06:30 AM
Eliza was already awake, making some breakfast for herself and preparing the breakfast for Alexander, who was still asleep at his desk. The war ended almost a year ago, but the revolution was still happening. British troops were now leaving the United States massively but The Treaty of Paris still had to be signed and accepted. It seemed sort of peaceful for the first time in years. No more constant fighting or tension. But in some parts of America, like in Philadelphia, there was still a massive untrust of each other. It was so bad that people were burning down houses of people suspected to be working with the British. She was preparing to make a pot of coffee and tea for breakfast and also some pap for little Philip (Who was born in January this year), just as every morning.
Alexander came downstairs, still wearing his waistcoat from yesterday. The ponytail he had in his hair was practically non-existent anymore.The smell of strong, well roasted coffee probably crept upstairs and woke him up. It always did. He looked like hell, eyebags under his eyes and slightly pale. He went up to Eliza from behind, wrapping his arms around Eliza before kissing her cheek.
“Morning, Darling.” He greeted Eliza with a soft smile.That practiced smile. He always did that. He married Eliza for the status since she was from the Schuyler family. He didn't really love her. He loved John. John Laurens to be exact. Eliza didn't have to know. She can't. She couldn't hear the usual energy in his voice this morning. “Morning, honey.” She replied, pouring him a cup of coffee. “How are you? You don't seem as energetic as you usually are today.” she asked, worry laced in her tone. She gave him the cup of coffee before leaning against the kitchen counter.
“John hasn’t written back in two weeks..” Alexander admitted, taking a sip from his coffee. “Normally I'd receive a letter in at least 4 or 5 days. I’m just worried that something happened to him.” Alexander sighed and looked down at his coffee. The dark brown liquid slowly moved in a spiral with the lighter brown coffee cream intertwining in its downward spiral towards the core of the cup. It reminded him of John’s brown eyes. “Have you written him a letter in the past couple of days?” Eliza asked again. She had met him a few times before and knew how inseparable they were.
“i did write him a few times in the week. I even wrote this father asking about his well-being and if he knows where John is. Even his own father doesn’t know about ..” Alex explained with a defeated look. Eliza sighed and walked up to him and stood next to the big dinner table Alexander was leaning against. She put her hand on his arm and rubbed it with her thumb, feeling the linen undershirt shift under her touch. “i’m sure that he’ll be alright.” She reassured him. “He might be just busy.” Eliza gave him a kiss on the cheek.
August 30th 1782, 15:30 pm (or 03:30 pm)
Alexander was in his office, half caring for little Philip and writing at the same time. Eliza was writing as well, but a letter to Angelica. Alex had been in a more somber mood lately. He stopped talking as much at the dinner table and just retreated to his office, working all day. While Eliza wrote her letter, Someone knocked on the door. It was the mailman. “Good day Miss Schuyler.” The mailman greeted with a polite smile. “Here is a letter from a Mister..” The mail man read the name on the envelope before looking up at her again. “Henry Laurens. It's for your husband.” He said, handing it over to her. She took it and thanked the man before closing the door. “Alexander! a letter for you from Henry Laurens!” Eliza yelled from downstairs. Alexander bolted downstairs at hearing Eliza’s words, Philip in his arm, a quill in the other. “Henry Laurens, You say?” He says speed walking up to her. “Yes, that Henry Laurens.” She said with a grin. Eliza gave him the letter, excited at what the contents were. Maybe John was safe!
Alexander opened the letter, the wax seal stamp cracking under the tension of being pulled. Alex started reading: “Dear Alexander Hamilton, I am sorry to inform you over mail like this but on Tuesday the 27th, my son was killed in a gunfight against British troops retreating from South Carolina. As you know, John dreamed of emancipating and recruiting 3,000 men for the first all-black military regiment. His dream of freedom for these men die-” Alexander dropped the letter. He couldn't even finish that sentence.
John was dead.