Whumptober Day 1 - Shaky Hands

Synopsis: From the time Philip was born, Alexander knew his children would be his world. But being a parent isn't always easy. From sickness to pride these are five times Philip caused Alexander's hands to shake.

So, this is like five days late. Idk how long it will take me to catch up, but I will do my best!

Please enjoy!
Warning: Character Death, Mention of Affair

~TH~

Alexander Hamilton had seen many things in his life. He had felt the heartbreak of loss and the shame of embarrassment. He had witnessed the atrocities of slavery and of war. He had seen the death of hundreds, if not thousands, of men.

All these sights, no matter how horrendous, had been fairly easy for Alexander to put into words, or at the least, to paper. It was his ability to write, to express feeling and ideas, that allowed him to progress socially until he was working side-by-side with the commander-in-chief of the Continental Army.

But in this moment, Alexander Hamilton could think of nothing to say. No words were adequate enough to describe what he was feeling.

He stared a moment, frozen in the doorway.

Eliza smiled up at him, looking weak but simultaneously beautiful. "Would you like to hold your son?"

Alexander took a tentative step forward. "My son." He said the words softly. The small bundle of blankets was passed from Eliza's arms to his own.

His hands were shaking and he had the sudden unearthly fear that he would drop his son. His son. He had a son.

As he looked down at the little pink ball of flesh he felt pride well up inside him.

No, no pride. This was far beyond anything he had ever felt before.

With a trembling hand, he reached up and softly touched the babies face.

He smiled with tears in his eyes. "My son."

~H~

"Shh, it's okay Pip. You're going to be okay."

Alexander placed the cloth over his son's forehead. Philip knocked it off, thrashing violently against the fever raging within him.

"Come on Pip," his voice trembled slightly. "We have to bring your fever down. But if you just wake up for me, I'll leave you alone, okay? Just wake up."

There was no response and the elder Hamilton felt his heart break once again.

"Alexander," the door quietly crept open. "Let me take care of Pip for a bit. You've been locked in here for nearly two days."

"His fever won't come down."

Eliza came over to stand by her husband. "I know Love." She lightly placed her hand on his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. "But you need rest. I can care for him while you get some sleep."

"I-I can't leave. What if, what if he-" Alexander couldn't bring himself to finish the wretched thought.

Eliza squeezed his arm, "He won't. It's a childhood fever. He is sick now, but he will get well. The doctor said to just watch a few more days before we truly begin to worry."

"We can't know that!" He pulled away as he began to pace the small room. "If it's just a fever, then it should be coming down! You can never know with fevers. Their severity can come suddenly. Especially in children! I can't, I don't think-"

"Alexander!" Eliza stepped in front of him, taking both of his hands in hers. "Phillip will be fine. You need to get some sleep. You're exhausted."

"I'm fine."

"Your hands are shaking."

He looked down at his own hands. They were practically vibrating. The anxiety he was feeling rivalled nothing he had ever felt before. This was his son. His oldest son. He couldn't bear to lose him.

Alexander vividly remembered the fever that had stolen his mother away. All the death and sickness that he had seen in the war. So many young lives taken. He had even stood at his friend's side when a young infant was stolen away. He couldn't let that happen. Philip was only eight. He had so many more years ahead of him. So many things he hadn't done.

"Alexander." Eliza implored, locking eyes with him. "Please?"

His eyes drifted over to his son. He was lying more peaceably now. The rag had stayed in place as the thrashing had finally stopped.

"Okay," he finally whispered, lightly kissing her hands. "Just... Let me know if anything changes."

As he went to exit the room, he noticed his hands were still shaking.

~H~

Alexander sat up in bed, breathing heavily. His eyes frantically scanned the dark room.

"Alexander? What's wrong?" Eliza murmured, still half asleep.

What was wrong?

"Nothing, I'm just going to check in on the children."

She hummed quietly as he got up. He watched her for a moment, treasuring her presence. The fact that Eliza had forgiven him, after everything he did, was still unimaginable to him. It had taken months for her to even be able to look at him, then the forgiveness was there for him to take. He felt so unworthy. He didn't know if he would ever understand. He had truly been blessed with the best among wives and woman.

He entered the hallways, trying to stay as quiet as possible. This was nothing out of the ordinary. On the few nights Alexander actually slept, he was often awakened by the overwhelming urge to make sure his children were okay. On nights where he worked until early morning, he would sometimes have to stop working to visit the different rooms. As soon as he saw that all of his children were asleep in their beds, he would go back to his own bed or to his work. The children were always in bed. They were always oaky. He wasn't sure why he worried so much.

He pushed the door open quietly. Angelica was safely in bed, holding loosely to her doll. Alexander smiled. Ever since she had turned thirteen, she had insisted she was too old for dolls, certainly to be sleeping with them. This unguarded moment brought his precious angel even closer to his heart.

The next room held James and John safe in their beds. Im the next, William was safely sleeping in his cradle.

He opened the door to his elder boys' room. He found Alex fast asleep. The other bed was empty.

Alexander felt the panic rise up. Where was he? Why wasn't he in bed? It was nearly three in the morning!

Before his emotions cancelled out all logical reasoning, he heard a door slam on the lower level of the house.

"Shh," a voice said in an almost silly tone "my parents are asleep." Philip. It was Philip.

"They'll never know!" Another voice practically giggled. "We're just lucky your dad decided to actually go to bed tonight."

"Yeah," Philip's voice had lost its quietness, "It's impossible to sneak out when he's up writing all night!"

Alexander couldn't take it any longer.

"Is that so?" He said making his presence known at the top of the steps.

The two boys froze, their eyes flashing to Hamilton. It was too dark to clearly make out the second boy, but Alexander was almost positive it was Richard Price. It was confirmed as the boy practically sprinted from the house and Philip let off a whispered, "Thanks a lot Ritchie."

"What do you think you're doing?" Alexander was angry. He quickly descended the steps, lighting a lamp. His son didn't move. It took a moment for the light to actually come on. His hands were shaking too badly for him to get it on the first time. Whether it was from fear or anger he wasn't sure.

"I asked you a question young man, what were you doing?"

Philip shrugged, Alexander was livid. "You come home at three a.m. talking about how you finally got a chance to sneak out, and you won't even tell me what you-" That's when it hit him. The smell. "You've been drinking." The words were said in a low calm manner. He watched as his son bristled.

"I don't see how it is of concern to you."

"You're fifteen!" Alexander exclaimed. "It's my concern because you're my son! I have the right to know where you are and what you're doing."

"Why? So you can publish that too?" The second the words were out of his mouth, Philip paled.

Alexander felt he must have had much of the same reaction.

His voice was cold when he said. "Go to your room. We'll discuss this in the morning." The tone was harder than he ever used with his children.

Philip took a step forward, "Pa- Father, I didn't mean-"

"I said," Alexander gritted his teeth, "we will discuss this in the morning."

The young Hamilton turned, then paused. That's when they both noticed the concerned Eliza watching from the upper floor. Not only Eliza, but Alex and Angelica were also standing there, watching with wide eyes.

Alexander turned away, heading for the pantry. With a shaking hand, he reached for the keys to the liquor cabinet. Maybe some alcohol wasn't such a bad idea.

~H~

"Uh, you want to see it?" Philip looked remarkably sheepish for someone who had just graduated Kin- Columbia College.

Alexander smiled, he took the diploma in his hands.

"Philip Hamilton, graduate of Columbia College." He smiled at his eldest son. "I'm so proud of you."

The boy's manner morphed into one of excitement. Then as if propelled by some undeniable force, wrapped his arms around his father.

"Thank you."

With shaking hands, Hamilton returned the hug. "No," he whispered, "thank you."

~H~

"Where is he?" Alexander didn't even knock, throwing open the door.

"Mr Hamilton-" Dr David Hosack met him as he entered the house.

"Where is he? Is he alive? Please tell me he's alive!" He was panicking. He knew it. He couldn't stop. Ever since he had heard his son had been injured in a duel, he hadn't been able to think straight.

"Alexander," the doctor grabbed him by the shoulders. "You need to understand what's happened. Philip was shot just above his hip. The bullet travelled up to his right arm. I've done everything I can. I can give him something for the pain, but other than that, it's simply a waiting game. The infection already has a tight hold. I'm terribly sorry."

Alexander's head was spinning. No. This couldn't be happening.

"Where is my son." He said forcefully. he didn't want apologies. He didn't want information. He wanted his son.

"He's upstairs. Mrs Church is with him."

Alexander practically sprinted to the upper floor. He heard a soft voice coming from one of the bedrooms. He opened the door, stealing himself for what was inside.

Angelica was sitting on a chair beside the bed. Philip was writhing in pain. Clutching tightly at his aunt's hand.

"Please, please jus-just make it stop. It hurts." He whimpered, his hand trembling with such ferocity that Angelica's were as well.

"Leave us."

Angelical turned around at her brother-in-law's voice. "Alexander? I-"

"Please. Just leave." She nodded, extracting herself from her nephew. As she walked by, Alexander could see the tears in her eyes. He ignored them. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He had to. This was his son. He had to.

He made his way to the now-abandoned chair. "Philip?" He took the shaking hands, realizing his were vibrating just as bad.

"Papa? I-it hurts. R-really, ba-bad."

"Shh, shh, I know." His voice hitched as he squeezed his son's hands.

"I-I, I didn't, I didn't think he would actually, sh-shoot me."

"I know, I know. Just, shh, everything will be okay."

"But it hurts!"

"I know!" He practically shouted, before taking an almost inhumanly soft voice. "I know. Just, shh. Papa is here now. Everything will be okay."

Thirteen hours later, Philip's hands stopped shaking.

Alexander's didn't.

~TH~

There's that!
Let me know what you think!

I'll try to post a new one soonish.

God bless,
Jamie