This isn't canon, but I've had this idea for awhile. I just had to write it. -C

   Philip used to be a calm child. His parents would comment that he's almost too good. He would never get in trouble. He just wrote poems in the back of the class, shy and withdrawn. He was content to be forgotten.

   Then, he turns nine. His baby sister is born, and he's not the center of attention. That life has been stolen away from him. His poems don't seem to compare to her baby gurgling, and his little games can't be measured against her trying to talk.

   So, he starts acting out. The teachers notice the abrupt change, email his parents. Philip stands firm though, getting reckless and shameless. Why wouldn't he?

   It starts becoming the norm. He never gets into fights though. Fights seem below Philip...

   It's in sixth grade that a fight finally finds him. A boy picks up his journal, reads his poems to the entire class. Philip blushes and runs away crying, not able to keep up the façade.

   The boy confronts him. Calls him a baby. A wuss. A girl.

   Philip punches him in the eye, completing willing to leave a mark.

   He doesn't know how the boy moves the fast, how the boy gets the weapon.

   All Philip realizes, five seconds too late, is that he found a bat. The bat cracks against his ribs, making him collapse. It's right across his ribs. And...And it hurts so much. His eyes water, and suddenly he's on the ground, and what happened?

   The boy is screaming, wailing, and Philip blacks out...

   But he doesn't?

   Because there's a man screaming in the background while he presses his hand against his bloody wound. One hand is still wound like there's supposed to be a gun there. He can picture it. Smoking, aimed at the sky. And the boy's face, no, the man's face after he shoots him. At seven, of course. Not ten. Seven.

   Then, the man is in front of him. Black ponytail, olive skin, and definitely his father. Except not. This is his pops. Philip knows this. That's why he chokes out "Pa."

   He's so desperate, and words are flooding out of his mouth for no reason, and it doesn't make sense. He wasn't in a fight, or a duel, and he wasn't holding his head up high but...

   He wants his pa to understand. He wants him to hug him. He wants to be kept safe. He wants to be cuddled. Or something!

   Then, he blacks out again.

   And he's back in the real world, back in the world where he's in sixth grade and not nineteen. Not graduating from college. His vision is spotty, his chest is achy, but not quite like it just was. There's a sickly trail of crimson running down his chin, connecting at the bottom to make a middle drip. It's hard for him to breathe, but he doesn't quite get it.

   "What's going on?" He struggles to say. What happened? What is he missing? Why is Philip so confused? Why is there blood everywhere? Where is his pops? His pa?

   They act like they don't understand him. They tell him to calm down, and they rub his head like he's a dog. The boy who hit him, who Philip is suddenly a lot less mad at because he's not Eacker which is a huge improvement, is sobbing and blubbering which makes no sense. Philip dimly thinks that he wanted to hit Philip with a baseball bat. It's not the other way around.

   He desperately tries to raise his arm, to wipe at the blood, but pain ripples up his arm, and it's clear the bat went across his body. Snapped his arm. And he's screaming and wailing for his mom and dad, and why aren't they there?

   Black dots dance across his vision, but they aren't all black. They show an image of a girl wailing over his body. And he gratefully closes his eyes, submits himself to the darkness. Because...

   "Mom, I'm so sorry for forgetting what you taught me," he gasps out the moment he's fully in the world. Eliza glances up, half shocked and half frantic about it.

   They keep talking, keep praying, keep singing. But he doesn't want to...He doesn't want to pass out. A sickly feeling starts churning in his gut, climbing through his body. His blood feels like it's freezing over, and everything is going numb. Everything is ending. Everything will end, but he has to stay with his mom.

   There's so much he wants to say to her. There's so much he wants to say to his pa. He wants to ask if they remember when he was nine and rapped at the piano, and his pa had laughed at the jokes and his mom had beat boxed. He wants to ask if they remember the Pamphlet, but of course they do, and of course they remember how he held his mom for the entire hour while they both cried. He wants to ask if they remember him graduating, and he's nineteen, and he will never become twenty.

   But his tongue is too loose, his conscious is too fleeting, and he can only count with his mom.

   "Un deux trois quatre cinq six sept huit neuf."

   "Good." And his mom is desperate. Philip is desperate too. He doesn't want to leave.

   "Un deux trois..."

   His last breath comes out in a puff.

   He's dead, he's dead, his mom is screaming, he's dead...

   But this time, he's shorter. This time, he's in sixth grade. This time, he's done and failed and disappeared. This time, he isn't Philip Hamilton.

   They're setting his arm, and it appears that they're fixing something within his stomach. He starts crying, but they murmur something, and a floaty feeling starts filling up his senses.

   Morphine or something. Something they didn't have back in the early 1800s he realizes dimly. At the same time, he's so excited and thrilled and dancing. He gets to go back to his mom? Or dad? Or someone?

   But this time, all that awaits is another man. Curly haired. Philip is confused as he wraps his arms around him. Laurens. His father's best friend, a friend that might have been more of a friend, but Philip doesn't question it. His aunt, Peggy, is squealing and dancing around yet somehow looking sober. His grandmother, the one he never met, is laughing, overjoyed at seeing her son again. He gets it. Philip can barely contain his excitement over seeing his father again. George Washington is standing behind them, formal but excited with his arms crossed. Washington might as well have been his grandfather, so of course Washington would wait for his 'son'.

   All of them are looking at the scene unfolding below them.

   His dad's gun is pointed towards the sky, and Burr's isn't. Burr, Dosia's dad. Burr instantly regrets it, the moment his dad aims towards the sky. Alexander is crying as the bullet strikes him, and he starts fading away.

   Philip pushes everyone back and leaps at his father. His father's face goes lax, completely shocked, but then the giant smile spreads across his face.

   Right as Philip's arms start wrapping, he wakes up.

   In a hospital bed, in a cast, with so many bandages, so many aches and bruises and hurts. Philip starts crying, but nobody gets why.

   How could they?

   How could they understand Philip longs for a life that doesn't exist to them? That he misses his real father, his real mother?

   And Philip misses himself, the him he used to be, too.

Okay, I'll explain in case you didn't get it. Philip is going back and forth between modern days and his dying day in Stay Alive (Reprise)/Hamilton's dying day.