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"Philip Hamilton, get back here right now!"
For someone who had a baby in her stomach, Eliza was surprising fast. Philip crashed through the trees, desperately trying to escape his scissor wielding mother. Spotting an opportunity, he ran towards a fence and hopped over it, hoping the bulge in his mother's stomach would prevent her from jumping it. To no avail, however. Eliza took one long stride before lunging over it unimpeded. They rushed right past the Burr's house, where Theodosia was reading peacefully on the porch. Philip gave her a suggestive wink as they raced past. She rolled her eyes. Just another day of Hamilton drama.
Philip threw open the door, running through the living room where his little brothers were playing. Pain shot through his leg as he stepped on a stray building block, but his mother, looking like a demon on steroids was right behind him. He'd deal with the bruise later. Luckily, James started crying as Eliza knocked over his Lego tower, and she stopped for a moment to calm him. This gave Philip enough time to slip into the hallway and move towards the stairs. Maybe he could lock himself in his room and wait for it to blow over. Then he felt a menacing presence behind him.
"Philip," Eliza said, grabbing the back of his collar. "Stop being ridiculous."
Philip struggled in her vice like grip. "Let me go!"
"Come now, cutting your hair is not that bad," Eliza chided, dragging Philip towards the kitchen.
"Mother, I told you, I like my hair long," Philip protested as he was dropped into a chair. A stray lock fell into his face and he blew it off.
"Only rogues let their hair grow this long."
"No, it makes me look cool!"
"Hush now, hold this mirror for me."
Philip groaned.
"Angie, help me out here!"
Angelica set down her mixing bowl. She had been trying not to get involved in this argument in this all week, but now that her only older brother was asking for her help, how could she refuse?
"What about a compromise?" she asked tentatively. Eliza and Philip both looked nonplussed.
"A compromise?" Eliza echoed. "I want to trim it to an appropriate length."
Philip hissed and held on to his hair protectively. Angie took off her hair tie and moved behind Philip.
"It's okay Philip," Angie assured as she gently touched his hair. Philip held on. "Trust me?"
Philip reluctantly let go. She tied it into a quick ponytail.
"How's this?" Angie asked. Eliza was looking into the mirror and gaping.
"It doesn't get into my eyes anymore," Philip muttered. "And Pops has the same style. It's perfect! You don't have any arguments now, right mom? I'm going to show pops!"
Philip quickly stood up and headed for the study before turning back.
"C'mon Angie, you can tell him it was your idea!"
Angie gladly followed, leaving their mother in the kitchen. They sprinted down to the study, quietly opening the creaky door. As always, their father was writing furtively at his desk, no doubt work.
"Not now Eliza," he said, not even lifting his head. Angie turned to go, but Philip stood stubbornly. This was too important a matter for their father to brush off.
"Pops, it's Philip. What do you think?"
"Of what?" Alexander asked absently.
"Of my new hairdo! Angie came up with it."
Alexander finally gave them a passing glance, before shooting up out of his seat. His eyes were wide with surprise, lips parted slightly, looking more alive then he had in years. He stretched out a hesitant hand, caressing Philip's cheek, face melting into an adoring expression.
"John..."
With that he pulled Philip into a bone crushing embrace. Tears slid down his cheeks; every breath a ragged inhale. Philip stood still, unsure of what was going on.
"Papa, that's Philip," Angie said, moving to pry Alexander's hands off him, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Feral and wild, a wild animal ready to pounce. Frightened, she backed off, and Alexander visibly calmed, refocusing on Philip.
"John, John, thank god," he whispered, tightening his grip. Philip could barely breathe.
"Mom, help Philip!" Angie called. "Papa's strangling him!"
"What?"
Eliza rushed in, and took in the scene. She approached Alexander carefully, like a tamer approaching a wounded animal.
"Alexander, that's not John. That's your son."
Alexander went back on the defensive, growling audibly. Angie flinched again, but Eliza didn't back down.
"Please, I don't want to take him from you."
She reached towards them. Alexander took one hand off of Philip and pushed Eliza hard enough that she fell backwards, Angie barely breaking her fall. Eliza finally looked up at Alexander, shocked, and saw the pain and protectiveness in her husband's expression. She shrank back.
"What the hell!"
Philip finally started to struggle, trying to reach his mom, but his father wouldn't let him go.
"John, don't do this, don't leave me again," he pleaded.
"Who the heck is John?" Philip snapped. Something changed in Alexander's expression, and he released his grip. Philip ran over to his mother's side.
"Are you okay mom?" Philip asked, helping his mother to her feet.
"Yes," Eliza said, though her voice wavered. Alexander slumped in his chair, lost and broken.
"Could you two do something for me?" Eliza asked. Philip and Angie nodded. "I need a moment with your father."
The two siblings began protesting right away.
"But he pushed you!"
"He hurt you."
"I'm alright. Me and Alexander have to have a talk."
A talk. Both Philip and Angie knew that phrase meant trouble. Despite their earlier reluctance, both of them scrambled out as fast as their feet could carry them. Eliza shut the door and turned to Alexander.
"John.." Alexander whispered, voice hoarse with sadness. Eliza bent down and hugged him close, despite the sadness in her heart; despite the knowledge that whatever she did, however many children she bore, she could never replace the freckled John and his blinding smile.