"Your Excellency, sir -" Alexander chased Washington across the camp as the older man searched for breakfast. Washington had burned his own breakfast.

"No, Alexander."

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask you."

"You're going to ask to join Laurens in South Carolina again."

"And why shouldn't I go?" Alexander persisted, following Washington.

"Because I need you here," Washington answered. "End of story."

Alexander frowned, cutting his losses and returning to his quarters.

It was around that time that Alexander sunk into a deep, deep depression.

Depression was hardly a new concept to Alexander. In fact, it was an intermittent part of his life as an orphan with no prospects. And now, with the black cloud looming overhead, he knew that it would only be a matter of time until he sunk to the low point that he only visited on the worst of occasions. Washington must have known it, too, because the day after his final rejection of Alexander's request, he obtained something that he believed would resolve Alexander's bout of depression.

"Alexander," Philip Schuyler called him - unbeknownst to Alexander, acting at Washington's request. "How are you, son?"

"I'm good, sir." Alexander lied. "How are you?"

"To tell you the truth, son, I'm in dire need of some good company. I think that with both Junior and Angelica out fighting in the war, we're all getting pretty stir crazy. How would you like to spend a weekend at the mansion with the family? I'm sure that Eliza and Peggy would love having someone under the age of thirty around the house for a little while."

Alexander perked up. In the craziness of the war, he'd forgotten about Eliza Schuyler.

"I don't know, sir. The General seems reluctant to let me go for any purpose." Alexander recalled - bitterly - the rejection of his perpetual proposals to go join John's forces in the South.

"Well, that's a shame." Philip did not sound too concerned about it. "But it is worth a shot. Why don't you ask anyway? I might be able to make a few calls, convince him that your time would be best served in the service of the Schuyler family."

"I would appreciate that, sir," Alexander said with a small smile.

"Then I would be happy to do it. Pack your bags, son. We'll expect you this weekend."

In what seemed to Alexander to be a miraculous change of heart, Washington assured Alexander that he could spare his aide for a week. He permitted Alexander to pack a bag, saddle a horse, and make his way to the Schuyler mansion.

Upon his arrival, Alexander allowed one of the Schuylers' servants to take his horse to the stable they now maintained. Another servant went to fetch Philip Schuyler to alert him to Alexander's presence. Philip then emerged from the mansion, a wide smile on his face.

"Alexander!" He called, approaching Alexander. He shook his hand enthusiastically. "How the hell are you, son? I hear that you've been making an exceptional effort on the war front. Did you really have a horse shot out from under you at Monmouth?"

"Yes, sir." Alexander was glad that the story had reached the Schuyler mansion. He hoped that Eliza had heard about his bravery at the battle, too.

"You'll have to tell us all about it." Philip decided, putting his arm over Alexander's shoulder paternally as he steered Alexander into the mansion. "I know that Peggy is just about foaming at the mouth for war stories. Angelica calls every other night, and not even that can satisfy her. She turns eighteen in a few months, you know. I'm sure that you'll see her around camp soon enough."

"Three children fighting in the war." Alexander let out a low whistle. "You must be proud."

Philip shrugged. He led Alexander into his office, where he gestured for Alexander to sit in one of the overstuffed leather chairs. He offered Alexander a drink and a cigar. Alexander accepted a drink but turned down the cigar. "I'm proud of all of my children, whether they're fighting in the war or not. All of them fight for what they believe in. Philip believes in fairness, which is why he's off at war. Angelica believes in equality, which is why she's off at war. Peggy believes in adventure, which is why she would gladly go to war. Eliza believes in goodness, which is why she chose to remain at home with Mrs. Schuyler and me, tending to every soldier who staggers up to our doorstep."

"Wow." Alexander took a long sip of the drink that Philip had poured him. It was whiskey. Alexander didn't care for whiskey. Still, he smiled as it burned his throat. "And what do you believe in, sir?"

"I believe in family," Philip answered thoughtfully, taking a drag of his cigar before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. It smelled like a hamper full of dirty laundry. "Which is why I'm happy to support all of my children, no matter what kind of life they choose for themselves."

"That's very admirable, sir."

"And what about you, Alexander?"

"What about me, sir?" Alexander forced himself to take another gulp of the revolting whiskey.

"What do you believe in?"

"Well," Alexander hadn't really thought about that question too much. "I suppose I believe in more than one thing. I believe in fairness, principally, I believe in equality, morally, I believe in adventure, recklessly, and I believe in goodness, optimistically. But I guess if I had to put my finger on just one thing, I'd say that I believe in myself."

"Clever answer." Philip grinned, taking another drag of cigar.

"Thank you, sir." Alexander returned the smile before forcing down another gulp of the disgusting whiskey. He silently questioned why people paid actual money in exchange for such a vile substance.

"Papa?" Peggy poked her head in the office doorway. Her eyes immediately sought out Alexander. They lit up as the two made eye contact. "Oh, good! He's here! Eliza, he's here!"

Philip chuckled as Peggy's head left the doorway. She shouted to her sister, informing her of Alexander's presence again.

"They've been anxiously awaiting your arrival," Philip explained quickly and quietly, likely expecting Peggy's return again. "With their brother and sister gone, they've been starved for the company of peers."

"I understand completely," Alexander said, trying his best to ignoring his heart jumping around as he heard Eliza's voice from the upper level of the mansion. He lamely reached for his bag, which contained the thank-you letter that never got mailed. He hoped that Eliza would believe him when he assured her that he had intended to send it all along, but had been foiled by Angelica's sudden change in phone number.

"Alexander!" Peggy returned to the office, throwing herself onto the couch across from Alexander's chair. "How have you been? How is General Washington? Did you really get shot at during the battle of Monmouth? Did you see Aaron Burr there? He told me all about it."

"You know Burr?" Alexander asked with some interest.

"He stayed here a few weeks ago," Philip answered. "Along with Charles Lee."

"Ah." Alexander suddenly remembered that the Schuylers were on the designated route that Lee had been forced to take when returning to his home state of Virginia. "Uh, yes. I did see Aaron Burr. We were both in the hospital together after the battle."

"He told me that he fought the entire battle," Peggy argued.

"Then I'm afraid he lied." Alexander tried to lighten his protest up a bit with a playful smile. "I'd like to be able to tell you that I fought in the whole battle, too, but the fact is that it was dangerously warm out, the Hanoverians were fighting like hell, and the conditions were just too awful for any man to withstand the whole time. We fought in waves. Aaron and I were among the first wave. It's only natural that we expired before the affair was through."

"Hm." Peggy flopped back against the couch, dejected. Apparently, Aaron Burr had been her perfect adventurer before Alexander had come along and spoiled it for her.

"Say, son, why don't you go on up to your room and get unpacked before dinner? You might have time to fit in a shower, too. I'm sure that you're feeling just shy of human right now." Philip suggested, sensing the tension between Alexander and Peggy.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea." Alexander smiled gratefully. "Thank you, sir."

He downed the rest of his disgusting whiskey before grabbing his bag and heading up the stairs towards the residential area of the mansion. He sought out the bedroom that he had stayed in during his last visit at the Schuyler mansion.

Once there, he began to unpack his belongings as he would use them. He had brought his nicest clothes. He still worried that they were not nice enough. He was not used to hanging around wealthy families like the Schuylers. Sure, General Washington was a wealthy man of aristocratic stature, but everyone was an equal at camp. The same did not ring true at the Schuyler mansion.

As he worried over his worn sweaters and ripped jeans, a hauntingly familiar voice drew his attention away from his social inadequacy.

"Alexander?"

It was Eliza.

He turned around and smiled. It wasn't his charming smile, so carefully employed. It wasn't his polite smile, either. It wasn't any sort of smile that was mindfully crafted for a specific purpose. It was a genuine smile. It was an almost relieved smile; like Alexander had been drowning and Eliza was the fresh breath of air that he so desperately needed.

"Eliza, hey."

"You remembered my name." Eliza seemed surprised.

"Of course I remembered your name." Alexander looked at her strangely, like he couldn't imagine the possibility of forgetting Eliza. "You're the only person who sent me a Christmas card this year. How could I forget something like that?"

"Oh." Eliza blushed furiously. "I wasn't trying to -"

"It meant a lot," Alexander assured her. "As a matter of fact…" He began to rifle through his bag in search of the thank-you note destined for Eliza. It had slipped to the bottom of his bag at some point during the journey, causing it to crease, fold, and tear. Still, he offered it to Eliza sheepishly. "I meant to thank you sooner, but I couldn't find your address."

Eliza accepted the note, smiling down at it like it was made of pure gold. "That was so thoughtfully of you!"

"Well, it's a little bit worse for the wear, but -"

"I love it," Eliza said firmly, clutching the note to her chest. "Thank you, Alexander. Really."

"Yeah, of course."

"Dinner!"

Eliza suddenly fluttered her hands, like she had suddenly remembered herself. "Oh, but you wanted to shower before dinner, didn't you? I should go down and help Mama set the table. I - thank you for this again, Alexander. I'll see you at dinner."

She rushed out of the room before Alexander had time to say anything else. Alexander watched her departure with a grin, amused at just how adorable Eliza Schuyler was. He would marry that girl. He was sure of it.

But he would not impress her by smelling like a sweaty horse. Nor would he make a very good impression on the Schuyler family. So he shut the door behind the fleeing Eliza and turned on the shower.

"Do you have to go back to camp?" A week had passed and it was soon Alexander's last night at the Schuyler mansion. He and Eliza sat on the porch swing out front. They had spent every night on that porch swing, talking about just about everything in the world. Alexander had told Eliza about his life in the Caribbean before being sent to America to live with the Stephens. Eliza told Alexander about her job at an orphanage in the city. Alexander confessed that he was terribly afraid of the country's future. Eliza told Alexander that she was unwaveringly optimistic about the country's future.

But now, on Alexander's last night at the Schuyler mansion, they carried out a different conversation altogether.

"The General is planning to move the camp next month. He needs me to figure out the logistics of the move."

Eliza pretended to frown, but the ghost of a smile graced her delicate features. "I guess I'll let you go. For the sake of the country."

"I'll visit every night until we move," Alexander promised.

"Will you really?" Eliza sat up, her posture rigid. Her dark eyes lit up with excitement. Or maybe it was the moonlight's reflection. Either way, Alexander's heart did a backflip in his chest.

"Every night," Alexander vowed.

"Papa will like that." It was obvious that Eliza was trying to temper her enthusiasm. "And Peggy. Peggy loves your stories."

"You're the only one I'm interested in seeing here," Alexander told her.

"Really?" Eliza seemed hopeful but wary. "Why?"

Alexander smiled wryly. "Why do you think?"

As promised, Alexander spent every night of that month at the Schuyler mansion. When Washington moved the camp a few miles Southwest of its original location, Alexander journeyed the extra few miles each night to continue to see Eliza.

He wouldn't profess his love to her; not yet. He didn't feel that it was fair to do so. She was the girl who had everything, and he was the guy who had nothing. He couldn't possibly give her anything. He couldn't offer her a fancy ring, a secure future, or even a life of happiness. He didn't think it would be right to claim any sort of emotional investment from her until he could offer her at least one of those things.

But she knew. Judging from the looks and the inflection in her voice and the constant stream of texts, it was easy to see that Eliza knew exactly how Alexander felt. She was just being patient with him; not forcing him to say anything until he was ready.

That night was fast approaching.

As Alexander staggered home, drunk off of happiness and a little bit of Philip Schuyler's disgusting whiskey, he encountered the trench of the fort and two of the soldiers guarding it. As was standard procedure for camp, they demanded that Alexander tell them the password before he could enter the camp.

"Right, sure, of course. It's -"

It was then that Alexander realized that he had forgotten the password.

"I'm sorry, fellas. I can't…I can't remember it."

"Alexander, we can't let you in if you don't remember the password." One of the soldiers said apologetically.

"I understand." Alexander conceded. "Would you mind if I stayed here? I might crash a little bit, but as long as you make sure no one slits my throat in the middle of the night, I won't require much."

"Yes, sir." The other soldier agreed with a laugh.

That was how Alexander wound up sleeping with his back propped up against the ridge of the trench and his jacket serving as a blanket. And that was how Lafayette found him the next morning, sound asleep as the rest of the camp sprung into life around General Washington's headquarters.

"Alexander?" Lafayette shook him awake, laughing.

"Hm? Oh, Lafayette, hey." Alexander said groggily, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes. "I forgot the password last night, so I had to stay out here."

"You were at the Schuyler mansion, no?" Lafayette crouched down next to him.

"I was," Alexander confirmed.

"So." Lafayette's smile grew less amused and more grave. "When are you going to tell Laurens?"