[Heal All Wounds] Dear Philip

[youaregonecas]

wordcount: 7.515 words


You and I

Lost to the winter like Kansas

And all my goodbyes

Flat on the table like Kansas

-Vienna Teng, Kansas.



John had imagined this day in many different ways in the weeks leading up to it. The Alexander he knew was in a way unpredictable under stress or when being told to wait; he practically knew he didn’t handle it well. John had been there for numerous nights of him drowning himself in the writing of papers, anything to take his mind off the more important and looming tasks for just a few moments.

In a way, he was impressed with his lover. Impressed in the way that he had not yet reached for any of his usual comforts; no  alcohol had touched his lips in the past few days and even now, he wasn’t working, there were no papers waiting to be graced with ink.

The three of them - Alexander, his daughter and him - had been sitting outside on the porch or the last hour or so, had watched the sun set on the horizon. Angelica and Peggy had chased them away inside when labor had picked up for Eliza when she’d needed her privacy. John had been no less than eager to go outside and not witness or hear another birth.

He didn’t quite remember exactly how Angelica had worded it, but he the overall gist had been that ‘they really didn’t want to clean up Alexander’s blood too’ and that if Alexander wouldn’t leave, someone would ask for his help in a matter that was not his to be an active part of.

He figured it was the only sensible thing to do, to take them all out to the porch. It had proved to be the right thing to do, for it was calm outside. It was so quiet too, barely any sounds other than Alexander’s pacing and Frances’s running around. Every once in a while, there were the smallest of noises coming from inside of the house - something that caused him to perk up and turn to the door faster than a dog on the hunt.

John had so many favorite spots in the Hamilton house, but this had to be one of them. He loved it for precisely those reasons. Not that Alexander was appreciating it in the slightest. He’d been pacing for the last hour or so, walking up and down and up and down the porch like a man on a mission. John had attempted, he really had attempted to have him sit down, relax, but it never lasted more than five to ten minutes. Alexander jumped up each time he heard the smallest of sounds coming from inside. In a way, it was like keeping a nervous horse calm and quiet, but having no experience with horses.

“Does it always take this long?” Alexander asked again, stopping in front of the rocking chair John sat in. “It’s been at least an hour now.”

“Yes, Alex,” he sighed. John honestly wished that he could give Alexander another answer, to settle his nerves a little bit, but he couldn’t. “It is. This takes some time.” Waiting with Martha had been gruesome and he himself had hated every second of it. In her case, things had gone wrong, she’d had a very tough and long birth, but he too had been confined to Alexander’s fate after a while. He’d waited outside while his daughter cried and the doctor worked.

“But she’s been in this much pain since last night!” He had heard a vast variety of those exact words the past hour. Everything between the range of ‘but it’s been happening since last night’ to ‘but she’s been in pain for so long’. John had quite frankly lost count of how often he’d said that thus far. Each and every moment, he was starting to sound more and more like Frances did, like the moments she didn’t get what she want or needed to go to bed while she didn’t quite want to.

In all honesty, he’d been close to telling him exactly that. He’d been close to telling him ‘You’re sounding more like Frances every minute Alexander. Are you sure she’s not related to you?’ He was wise however and kept his mouth shut. Alexander was worried, it was normal. John after all had been there too, had been in his shoes before.

“So you’ve said.” He wished that he would just stop pacing for a moment. One moment. Five minutes of him not having to turn his head every five seconds, just a little while of less pain inflicted by his headache. He reached out to Alexander, grabbing him by the hand. “It probably means that things will start moving along sooner rather than later. Trust me.”

Alexander sighed and threaded his fingers through his. John didn’t fail to notice how his eyes flicked to the side, to make sure that not everyone was there. As if he had done that if anyone was there. “Fine. But does it always take this long?”

“Alexander. Please.” One day, Alexander Hamilton would be the death of him. He knew that for a fact. “She will be fine.” He stressed every word, hoping - or more praying to God - Alexander would finally get it.

“Papa?” Frances had sneaked up on them, back from where she’d been playing with the dogs. She stood next to the rocking chair, a worried look in her eyes as she stared up at the both of them. Alexander let his hand fall out of his at the sight of her. “Is auntie Eliza okay?” John couldn’t help but smile at his daughter and the worry in her eyes. The smile melted away when she looked up at Alexander and back at him, started speaking again. “Will she end up like momma?”

“Of course not. She’s going to be just fine.” He hoped Alexander noticed the way he looked at him as he said the words. “Mommy was sick, Frances. Auntie Eliza is going to have a baby. This is a good thing. This is different.”

“Oh. Okay.” She smiled. “Can I hold the baby when it's born?” Her eyes grew wide with excitement. “Will it remember it kicked my hand?” After John and Frances had come to live with Alexander and his wife for a little while, both to get away from the Laurens family and to get away from the house where his wife inhabited every corner, she’d grown to love Eliza. He didn’t quite understand why she had chosen to bond with her, but they had. The last couple of weeks, she’d been more than helpful, helping fold the clothes for the baby and bring tea, smiling and giggling each time Eliza let her touch her belly because she loved to feel the child kick.

“Are you okay?” He hadn’t even noticed he was rubbing at his temples again or how Alexander was now crouching in front of him. Frances and Alexander both had a worried expression in their eyes. How could a child of barely three already been so worried about her papa?

“Fine,” he sighed, “The headaches still aren’t completely gone while the rest is. I’m not drinking a thousand cups of coffee again Alexander, don’t even attempt it.” John would never know how grown men got away with almost pouting, but Alex did and it infuriated him to no extent.

“Papa hug?”

“No, don’t worry sweetheart, papa is okay.” It warmed his heart that she wanted to help, wanted to make them feel better. “But thank you. Will you hug your uncle Alexander? He’s a little nervous.” She giggled as he turned towards her and lifted her up in her arms. It had become a bit of a habit by now, one John had to admit he loved seeing. They had all accepted each other in their lives so quickly, so easily, even if they had to be careful.

“Thank you, Frances.”

“Auntie Eliza is going to be fine,” she said before hiding her face in his shoulder. “Papa says so! You can always trust papa.”

“Well, if two of my favorite four people tell me she’ll be fine, it can’t be a lie, can it?” He spoke so quietly that John barely picked it up over the sounds of footsteps on the stairs and the slamming of doors inside.

“So I’m one of your favorite people?” he asked quietly.

“I never claimed otherwise.” Alexander put Frances down when more noise came from inside and someone yelled. He was back to attention, back to a nervous wreck faster than anyone could have said quill. Frances seemed to notice the change in his posture because she looked up at him with big eyes.

“She wants to see you, Alexander.” Angelica stood in the door, a warm smile on her lips. John could barely see her from where she was sitting, but he thought there was blood clinging to her hands.

“Is she okay?” Frances asked, eyes big, eyes focused on her hands as well.

“Yes, she is,” Angelica was still smiling, “she’s tired, but she's doing okay.”

“We told you uncle Alexander!” she said cheerfully. “She’s alright!” John felt his heart drop at her choice of words. He shifted her gaze up, just to check if her expression, but if anything, Angelica didn’t’ seem to think anything was wrong. He just hoped they were safe, for now.

“You did, indeed.” Alexander loosened up visibly before rummaging her hair. “Thank you. Frances here did a wonderful job of keeping me calm.”

“Come on up, while he’s still awake,” she said, nodding at him. “I’ll take the toddler out of your hands, John.”

”He? So she was right?” Alexander completely ignored her comment, grin stretching over his lips. “It’s a boy?”

”She was, indeed. Come on, before he goes back to sleep.” Frances crawled closer to him as Alexander followed his sister-in-law inside and closed the door behind him.



The woods had always been a place where John could calm down, let off some steam, come to himself. The rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds brought with it the feeling of being home. It was a home away from home, but a home he could always find, wherever he was.

When Frances had been born, he’d hoped she’d take after him. He had hoped that she’d love drawing and nature, that she’d be as interested in the wonders around him. And he’d been lucky. When he finally managed to bring his wife and daughter back, she’d been happy and enthusiastic. On their first walks, she stopped at every other ochre leave and examined it.

Today, it was a little bird that had captured her attention. He’d taken her out for a walk so the Hamiltons could have some time alone with their family, to spend some alone time with little Philip. This way, he got some alone time in with his daughter as well, something he’d lacked significantly in the past couple of weeks. Alexander and Eliza had been kind, in allowing him to stay, but they should be getting ready to move on now. It had been weeks since Martha’s death, the worst of the grieve processed and pushed away in a darker corner of his mind.

John knew, knew that they had to pack their bags and go back home. Yet, what he’d found here was calm and bliss. The Hamilton house had begun to feel like a second home in a way, a second place he felt comfortable and good. He’d seen Frances brighten up again, had seen her smile more, it was that that he perhaps wasn’t ready to give up. The ease and comfort, the happiness.

“Look, papa!” Frances said excitedly as the little bird she’d been staring at for the last five minutes finally took its first jump. For a minute, they both watched with held breath as the bird seemed to fall straight to the forest floor, before opening its wings and soaring up, catching the wind beneath his feather

“It did well, didn’t it?” he asked her as she clapped, cheering the little bird on. It was moments like this that he realized how much like her mother she was. Martha could get excited about little things as well, would be happy and cheerful at just being awake to witness dawn. Even by the end, she always had a smile for their daughter.

The relationship between the two of them had never been what it seemed like. They’d married mainly to keep her honor, she’d been five months pregnant by the time they were pronounced husband and wife. In a way, it had changed the relationship they developed. For John, it had never gone past platonic affection, a deep caring that was no more than friendship. He was sure she knew, that she accepted it in a way.

He couldn’t lie and say that he hadn’t admired that part of her, the part that always saw the good in things. She struggled, sure, but eventually she had accepted so much. While John didn’t dare show how romantically affectionate his relationship with Alexander was, she knew about it. Martha always asked what their day had been like and if he had a good time, she always seemed to back him up to some extent.

Frances was so much like her already. Perhaps one day, seeing her smile wouldn’t hurt as much. Even in little things like now, now that she had stopped by a patch of flowers and was staring at them.

“Papa?” she asked curiously, “do you miss mommy?”

“I do,” he admitted softly, crouching next to her. “Some days more than others, but I always do miss her. Do you miss your mommy?” She seemed to think about it for a moment, eyes up at the sky.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, running her fingers down one of the fallen petals. It stained the tops of her fingers vaguely pink, but she didn’t seem to care. “Auntie Eliza said that she’s right here.” Frances pointed at her chest, where her heart would be. “She’s looking out for me. From up there.” She fell silent again. “Papa, I think we should bring her flowers.”

“Perhaps we should. Which ones do you think she’d love? These ones? The roses?” He had seen her stare at a similar patch earlier, so perhaps she’d been considering for a while now.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. How about we finish our walk and then when we come back, we cut them off?” She nodded, the earlier sadness disappearing from her face.

“Can we pick some for auntie Eliza too? To help make her feel better?”

“I’m sure she would love that,” he said with a small smile on his lips, “but Frances, can you listen to me for a minute?” She nodded, pouting slightly. “Do you remember what momma and papa told you, about auntie Eliza and uncle Alexander?”

“That she’s not really my auntie?” she asked, clearly confused.

“Yes and what else did we say? What do you need to be real careful with when it’s not just the now four of us?” Her mouth fell open as if she only now realized what she’d said earlier. John couldn’t hold it over her, children didn’t always think. He didn’t always remember it himself.

“I’m sorry papa!”

“It’s alright, don’t worry love. Angelica probably didn’t even notice. Just try to be careful, okay?”

“Okay, papa. Around them okay?” She frowned again.

“Yes, of course.” He could help but smile at the memory of Alexander’s grin the first time she accidentally said uncle Alexander to him. It had seemed so honest and he had seemed so happy, even if it was just for a moment. It was an image John had stored in his mind. “Uncle Alexander loves it.” John wished that he knew what Eliza thought of it. She was oddly quiet about the whole thing. It was great and in all honesty, John appreciated how calm she was surrounding it, he just wished he knew what was going around in her brain.

“Can we pick the flowers now and go back?”

“Of course,” he sighed. “Pick the pretties ones, okay? Auntie Eliza had a rough day, I’m sure she could use the brightest ones.”

“Okay, papa!”



Alexander was sure his heartbeat was faster than that of a Colibri as he followed his sister-in-law up the stairs to their bedroom. They had never seemed so daunting nor so long. The climb seemed to take ages, even if he knew it barely two minutes. With each step he took, he could feel the pounding of his veins, the hammering of his heart.

It came to an abrupt stop as he heard the vaguest of cries carry through the hall, accompanied by his wife’s laugh and Angelica’s chuckle. She turned around to him, shaking her head at him.

“Peggy probably took him,” Angelica said to him, “he’s been fussy about being away from Eliza. No more than a few minutes before he goes to look for her again. Peggy has been…disappointed by that.”

“He’s a smart boy already,” he said, a small smile on his lips. “Your sister is a real treasure. How is she doing?”

“You better treasure her, Alexander.” Her voice turned sharp. “You know our father will be out for your blood if you dishonor her.” She seemed to hesitate for a moment. “I will be out for your blood if you do. She is doing well, however. She’s sitting up and not complaining. She’s strong like that.”

“She’s one of the strongest women I know.” Only his mother had been stronger, had been through more and she reminded him of her so much already. “Are you getting at something, Angelica? Do you see a problem?”

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just a warning, one that was meant to be said a while ago,” she admitted. “My sister is important to me. I’m just sending out a warning.” Angelica sighed, but he didn’t dare look at her. So she had been paying attention. “Go see your son, Alexander.”

They stopped at their bedroom door. “I won’t do anything to hurt her.” Angelica didn’t answer, she just nodded at the door. He could already hear Eliza speak through it, her soft laugh. Only as he pushed it open could he understand what she was saying. For a moment, he couldn’t do anything but just stand there, stand there and stare at the view he was presented with. Eliza looked tired, but she was smiling. Actually smiling, warmer than she had done the previous weeks.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” she said to their son lying in her arms. “Already thought so. Already fond of me, aren’t you?” Alexander couldn’t help but stare, stare at the dark head of hair, couldn’t help but hear the little sounds. “I’m sorry, Peggy.”

“Oh that’s alright, I’ll go downstairs and make you some tea, okay?” Peggy said from her spot next to Eliza. He saw her reach out her hand to do something to their son. “He’s so beautiful, Eliza. Congratulations. To the both of you. Do you want me to unfreeze your husband for you?”

“Yes please,” she said, but she was still smiling, he took it as a good sign. “And thank you.” Eliza shifted her gaze up to him. “Here’s your papa, Philip. Come here Alex, come meet your son.”

Alex sat down on the edge of the bed, unable to hide his smile as Eliza shifted so he could meet his eyes for the first time. The little boy just looked up at him, eyes wide, his little nose pulled up as he yawned.

“He’s so tiny,” Alexander couldn’t help but whisper as Eliza handed him over to him, careful to support his head until he had a proper grip on him. “Is this alright? Okay. He’s so small. So fragile.” He brought his free hand up to stroke his fingers down his hand, laughed a little as the boy clasped it tight. “Hello, Philip. Already proving you’re strong, aren’t you? Taking after your mother, already?” The little boy just yawned before letting his eyes flutter closed, his finger still clasped in his. “I promise I will be here for you, no matter what happens. You look so much like your mother, I’m glad.”

“If he becomes anything like the charmer his father is, I will be a happy and proud mother.” Her hand fell to his arm. “Is he asleep already? He must feel safe. He was with Peggy with just a few minutes.”

“I’m sitting closer by, you’re still right there to him.” Alexander couldn’t stop watching, at the long lashes, small eyes, the little button nose. He looked so innocent. “I don’t think he’s letting go,” he whispered. “Is this your way of keeping me here, so I don’t go back?”

“Maybe. Possibly. I wouldn’t tell you if it was, would I?” She was just teasing, but he knew the tone in her voice, just how much she hoped he wouldn’t have to leave again. “He has your nose, I think.” Her finger reached out to run it down his nose. “Maybe your jaw, we’ll have to wait for that.”

“He has your eyes. Angelica wasn’t lying, he is beautiful.” He couldn’t help but smile at his son, look back at his wife and press a kiss to her temple. “That just means he’s taking after you, my love.” Even after all this time, Eliza still blushed when he complimented her. It was the little things like this that would always make this is safe haven, that would always make her his safe haven. She could calm him down so quickly, could always reassure him so quickly. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“I am,” she promised, “a little painful and sore, but it was worth it. He is worth it. I’ll be fine soon enough, don’t you worry about me.”

“Can you believe it?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper. “We’re parents now.”

“Not yet. We’ll believe it soon enough.” She laughed a little as Philip’s eyes fluttered open again. “Wait until next morning, when he wakes us up before the sun is even up.”

“Somehow, I don’t think we’ll have a big problem with that. Look at how calm he is now.”

“He ate not too long ago.” Her finger stroked down their son’s cheek again, triggering the little smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “He’s like a drunk man now, but then the only responsible way. Aren’t you, little one? Milk drunk.”

“You know I love you, right? I don’t know what I deserved to have such a beautiful wife and such a calm little son. Thank you.”

Eliza smiled at him, rested her head on his shoulder. “I know. I love you too, Alexander.”



It was quiet when they came back from their walk. Frances had grown tired on the walk back, exhausted enough for John to take his daughter in his arms and carry her the rest of the way home. She rested her head against his shoulder and slept peacefully, only rousing when he stumbled a bit, or when the wind caught in the flowers she’d plucked and they brushed against her face.

John himself had to stop a few times, to pick up a flower that had gotten away from them, or when the scarf she had brought along dared to fall to the ground. He didn’t quite know what would happen if they lost it. It was the scarf that Martha had worn most in the end. Especially on the days she was cold and shivering at the least bit of cold coming in through the windows. Frances had clung to it like a safety blanket, refused to let it go some days. She slept with it hugged close to her on the days she missed her mother most.

For this walk, he’d carried it with him, held it safe until she needed it. It wasn’t until after they’d picked the flowers that she’d reached out for it, took it from his pocket. John had offered to wrap it around her, but she had refused to. I’m not like mommy yet. Oh, how it had made his heart ache. So he’d just let her hold it, hoping she found some comfort in it.

She babbled in her sleep. Small words and noises that he couldn’t make into sentences or sense of for that matter. Every few words, there was the mention of her mother, the quiet mumbled ‘mama’ that broke him. When she woke up, he wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head and let her settle again.

“It’s alright love,” he whispered as he sat down with her in one of the rocking chairs. She shifted against him, head lifting ever so little. “You can sleep on.”

“Okay papa,” she mumbled.

“Are you cold? Do you want me to wrap the scarf around you?”

“No.” Frances shook her head, clutching the cloth closer to her lips. He’d noticed that she’d started doing that lately, almost as if it reassured her. “It’s cold.”

“We can go inside in just a minute,” he promised her, before slipping off his overcoat and wrapping it around her. The small smile she threw him was enough, for now. “You really miss your mother today, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, bringing the scarf back to her lips. “Now auntie Eliza is a mommy too, but mommy is gone. It’s not fair.”

“I know, oh I know darling.” He’d been thinking the past days, of returning. Going back and settling their lives. Of giving the Hamilton’s some time on their own again. “Do you want to go back home?”

John himself wasn’t quite as opposed to it as he used to be. Life would be easier, it would make so many things run smoother. He wouldn’t force his daughter to run away from the grieve if they went back. Sure, he'd miss it, miss spending time here, but it would help his daughter.

“I don’t know. I miss my bed.” She fell silent for a bit and for a while, he was sure that she had fallen asleep. “I miss mommy’s stuff. But, papa, I’d miss auntie Eliza and Uncle Alexander too.”

“We would still see them, you know that,” he promised her gently, “we could come by and you could see Philip, but it would take some off the pressure of their backs. They’ve been very kind in letting us stay for as long as they did.”

“I think I’d like that.”

“Okay, we’ll talk to them later,” he promised. “See how they feel.” John would miss it at the Hamilton household. The past couple of days, the business had been nice; he enjoyed the company of the other Schuyler sisters. Peggy was vibrant as ever, lovely around Frances. Each time they spotted each other, he knew his daughter threw her a wide smile and that Peggy answered as enthusiastically, even with other company around.

Angelica was quieter, more observant. It was her that she was most cautious around, that he retraced every step and thought about what he said each time. He didn’t know what it was about the eldest sister, but something made her act differently around him and it threw him off.

“I already thought I heard talking.” He looked up to see Peggy standing in the door, smiling at him. “Mind if I sit? I brought a quilt, for Frances. You have to be freezing.” And he was. It was still January, it was relatively cold. He wasn't important in this case, however.

“Of course not. Sit down." He threw her a small smile. "How are they doing?”

“They’re good, I think,” Peggy said before sitting down in the chair next to him and passing him the blanket. Frances woke up for just long enough to throw her a smile and wrap herself in the blanket before settling back against him. “Last I saw, all three of them were practically asleep upstairs. That was an hour ago, they could be awake right now. You took quite the walk.”

“It was needed and we wanted to give them as much time as possible without getting in the way.” He left out that he himself had needed the break from all happiness. “I’m glad things went well.” John had only vague memories of Frances’s birth, but knew how problematic it had been, remembered how his daughter had cried and cried, how swollen her leg and hip had been. They were the days he couldn’t remember because he was barely there, but the sharp cries coming from her mouth were engraved in his memories. “Even Alexander is asleep?”

It was good that he finally took the time between his hours upon hours of writing to spend some time with her. John had watched the first weeks as he practically locked himself up in his study and wrote down his ideas - often political - until sundown until Eliza (or he, when the stairs really became too much for her) came to persuade him to come to bed.

“Even Alexander,” she said with a small smile, “I think Philip was sleeping on his chest. He wouldn’t run away to just get some work in when his son is there, I hope.” Peggy shifted her gaze to the flowers Frances was holding. “Martha’s didn’t go well?” He’d talked to her about Martha, about the short five years they had been married.

“Not quite. Both of them were recovering from it for months. By the time I got them here, a few months had passed and she was still exhausted and in pain. I don’t think she ever fully got over it.” He looked down at his daughter, at how she was curled up in his lap, and couldn’t help but smile. “She loved her, though. I don’t think the pain ever cut into that.”

“A mother’s love for a child goes deep. I’ve seen that today. Did she pick them for her?”

“For Martha? Yes. She saw them and said her mother would love them. When we travel back, we’re putting them on her grave.” John wished that they could just come back and hand them to her. “She insisted on picking some for Eliza.”

“Seeing her in pain threw her off, didn’t it?” Peggy asked, smiling when Frances blinked her eyes open again. "Good morning Frances.”

“Good morning, Peggy,” she mumbled against the scarf, blinking against the brightness. The sun had come back since they’d taken their seats and while it had been pleasant for John, it had to be a sudden change.

“It threw us all off, I think," she continued. "She’s such a strong woman. Even the strongest have a rough time sometimes, but when it happens…it’s odd. Eliza thinks it's worth it, however. You should have seen Philip, he's beautiful. You'll see what I mean when you see him. He’s incredibly sweet. If I could, I’d steal him from under their noses.” She laughed. "He looks just like Eliza, but there’s a lot of Alexander there already.”

"I guess I'll see later. Alexander must be glad then,” John remembered the letters and words exchanged, of how beautiful yet plain he’d thought Eliza to be. How she was mesmerizing in a way, beautiful in her brain. I’ve always fallen in love with intelligence. My engagement with Elizabeth is only the prove of that. "He's always been...appreciative of her."

"Oh, he is. Have you all eaten yet?” Frances shook her head, already a little more alert at the mention of food. She was so much like her mother sometimes. John himself hadn’t either, but he could later. He was sure no one in the house had gotten a lot of time and there were other mouths to feed, like those of Alexander and Eliza. Other people ought to come first, for now. “We still have some oatmeal left. Would you like some?” Frances looked up at him, eyes questioning.

“You can go. I’ll wait here for you and then we can see if they’re awake yet.”

“I can bring her up when she’s done eating if you’d like to go up now,” she offered. “It wouldn’t be a bother.” Peggy reached her hand out, which Frances hesitantly took after sliding off his lap. “They should eat as well. Would you be so kind to go up and ask them if they’d want something? Angelica had to leave for a minute.”

“Of course. Unless you’d rather go ask yourself? I can keep my eyes on her.”

“No, you go. I’ve already met Philip, you haven’t. You go on ahead."

“I’ll go see. Thank you, Peggy.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, little one, let’s go eat.”

John took the stairs up two at a time, careful to be quiet even when knocking. If they weren’t awake yet, he didn’t want to be the one to rouse them from sleep and disturb their calm. If Eliza felt even a fraction of the pain and weariness that Martha felt, she deserved to get a break from it, to step away.

Yet it was her who bid him in softly. She was already sitting up in bed, looking down at her husband and the child sleeping on his chest with affection. There were soft noises coming from both men; snores from Alexander and the barely there noises that had to come from Philip. He looked so tiny laying on his chest, barely there compared to the father he so gladly used as a pillow. Most importantly - John noted - she looked happy and content. There had always been something tugging at her before, now that seemed to be gone.

“You must be tired of hearing this, but congratulations Eliza,” he whispered to her, suddenly feeling a little awkward in the center of the room. He’d hoped, deep down, that Alexander would be awake, that he’d be there to me a mediator between his wife and his lover. It had always been a bit awkward, not knowing what to talk about. Even Martha had been easier in communicating with her and they’d barely spoken. Perhaps it was because they both were women and both of them were in a situation where they shared their husbands with another man. John couldn’t tap from that.

“Not yet,” she promised, “the only thing I’m tired of is sitting here while everyone takes care of everything for me.” Eliza smiled slightly as both of her men made noise at the same time. “Even if they’re taking care of me. These walls get boring very quickly, thank the lord for having someone much more interesting to look at now.”

“While we’re on the subject, Peggy asked me if you were hungry. She offered to bring something up for you.”

“Maybe later, I’m not quite hungry yet, though thank you for relaying the message.” She was lost in thought for a minute. “John, do you think you could help me to the chair in the corner? I don’t think I can quite walk that length without having someone to put some weight on.”

“Of course.” He walked over to her and held out his arm, supported her on the way there. She walked in short steps, clearly still in pain. “How are you doing, Eliza?” It had to be another question she had to be tired of hearing, but he’d like to hear it from her. As much as she was no more than Alexander’s wife, he’d grown to care for her in the past couple of weeks. “Peggy told me you’ve been strong, through this all.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” she sighed as she sat down, pulling the plaid over her lap, “that she said that, that is. I’ve been doing well, however. There is some pain, but it’s manageable. My mother warned me for worse. Sit down, you don’t have to stand there so awkwardly.”

“It’s a relief to hear you’re doing well,” he mumbled as he sat down. From the hallway, he could hear the stumbling of feet, a warm laugh. He could only imagine that was Peggy and Frances, coming up. “If things had taken any longer, I think you might have had to bring in someone to repair the porch out front. Alexander was pacing quite a number of miles.”

“So Angelica said. Apparently, you had my husband calmed down, however. Thank you, for keeping him calm.”

“It was more Frances’s doing than mine. I’m afraid my daughter has a better effect on him than I do.” Even though he laughed, it was the truth. Frances’s hug and the reassurance had been what calmed him down long enough for Angelica to arrive and bring him to his son. “I’m glad there was anything I could do to help.” John shifted his gaze to bed, to the source of the shifting and noises that by now had shifted into a quiet cry. “He seems to be a calm baby.”

“Oh, he is. So far, at least, I don’t want to jinx it. If he doesn’t see me or his father for a while, he’ll start to cry a little, but otherwise, he’s quiet, observant.”

“A little like Alexander, then, but with a better filter?” Eliza laughed at that.

“Yes, in fact. A small version of Alexander.” She glanced over when he cried again, higher pitched and more persistent. “Do you think?”

“Do you want me to bring him here?”

“If you could? Alexander will - in all likelihood - not wake up. He’s cried earlier and Alexander didn’t notice.” She shook her head. “I would go fetch him myself, but -”

“Oh no, I understand. I’ll bring him to you.” John was careful as he walked to Alexander’s side of the bed, weary as he lifted the child in his arms. He stirred for a moment, hand reaching out or the spot where his son had been lying, but he didn’t rouse from sleep.

“Be careful to support his head with your hand,” Eliza reminded him gently from her side of the room. “He should be relatively calm.”

It had been such a long time since he’d held a child so small. Even with Frances, he hadn’t held her for more than a handful times before leaving them behind in England. They were so vulnerable and small the first few days, he could so easily do something wrong. He hated having to leave them, but he had had no choice.

Philip was mesmerizing in a way. When he was so close to Alexander, they looked a lot alike, seemed to have some of the same mannerisms, but then he looked over to Eliza and Philip was indeed - as Peggy had told him - all her; the eyes most explicit of all.

“Here your mother is,” he whispered before passing him to his mother. “Eliza, if you need me to step outside if he’s hungry, tell me. I’ll go.” Alexander shifted in his sleep, clearly closer to waking up now. “It’s no problem.”

“Oh no, it’s alright, see?” She smiled as she cradled him close, stroked her thumb over the top of his head. The child quieted almost instantly. “He was just missing his mother, weren’t you, Philip? I thought so.” She was silent for a little bit. “You know, I’ve never seen Alexander sleep this deep. It’s a nice change.”

“I could hardly believe it. He’s been working long days the past few days, perhaps it finally caught up to him.”

“Perhaps. I just hope he’s not starting to fall ill again. He just completely recovered.” There was a gentle knock at the door as she said this and when the door swung open, he could see Peggy lead Frances in. It had been a while since he’d seen her so shy and reserved, holding both her mother’s scarf and the flowers close to her. The second she spotted them however, she started walking. The smile on her lips grew as she saw Eliza and the fact that she was holding a baby. The baby.

He hadn’t seen her this shy in a long time, hadn’t known her to hide so close to him in at least a few months.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said gently, “it’s just a baby. It’s Philip.”

“For whom did you bring the flowers, Frances?” Eliza asked gently, eyeing the roses she was still holding. Peggy must have taken her to her room first and brought the other ones there. It had to be why they’d taken so long before coming to the room.

“You!” she said, a small smile on her lips. “To make you feel better.” Frances took the few steps to Eliza, holding them up so she could see them better. John just watched as Eliza took them, smiled and thanked her, told her that they were beautiful. “Phi - Phiip?” His daughter frowned as if she was willing her mouth to form the word.

“Well seen.” She shifted Philip in her arms, so she could see him better. “This is the baby.” Her brother, in a way. John banished the thought out of his mind. He wasn’t and he should never start seeing him like that.

“Hang on,” he muttered before picking her up and holding her up so she could see more than just a top of hair. Almost experimentally, she reached out her hand, laughed when she touched Philip's nose and his gaze fixed on her. “Careful with the baby, okay Frances?”

“Of course papa.” She laughed again as Philip took hold of her finger and wouldn’t let go until Eliza ran her thumb down his fingers, replaced Frances’s finger with hers.

“A man goes to sleep with no one but his wife and son in the room and suddenly everyone living in his house and some more people are there.” John looked up to see Alexander sitting up, hair tousled and still sleepy it seemed, but awake. “I believed that you’d wake me.”

“We didn’t want to wake you, Alexander.” Eliza threw her husband a smile. “You seemed to need the sleep as well. Come, sit with us?” John’s attention was drawn back to Frances when she reached forward in his grasp and pressed a kiss to the top of Philip’s head.

When Alexander walked towards them, he was smiling.

So this had to be what it was like, to have a happy birth, to not worry  as much. Of course, there was still the chance that they’d lose him in infancy; John himself had seen many of his siblings pass away before they reached the age of eleven, his brother later than that, but he had survived birth and so had Eliza. They’d passed their first obstacle.

John knew a lot of things and knew that there would be challenges to face, but there was one thing that he was sure of. Philip would grow up in the warmest, most welcoming environment he could quite possibly have. With a mother clever as Eliza and a father like Alexander, with the rest of the Schuylers so close by, things almost couldn’t go wrong.

All John could hope was that he too could be part of that.