He feels it coming before it really starts, the familiar thickening of his throat and constricting of his chest. It takes only a few moments of uncomfortable limbo before the panic spreads down from his mind into the rest of his body. Closing his eyes, he rests his head in shaking hands.

This isn't the first time Alex has had a panic attack, not by a long shot. They plagued him throughout his teenage years, before he figured out how to stop dread from overtaking him. But ever since Eliza came into his life, the attacks have become few and far between. There's a profound calm in her he's never known in himself and luckily for him she has the uncanny gift of spreading it to others. As long as she's with him, he's able to believe everything will be okay.

The problems arise when he's alone. Without someone to interrupt his thoughts he tends to lose control of them, letting them escalate until they consume him. Sometimes this works to his advantage, allowing him to hone in on nothing but the issue at hand until he finds a solution. It seems tonight is not one of those nights.

Really, he should have known better than to Google "parenting advice" alone in his office on a Wednesday night. But after taking Eliza to an ultrasound appointment earlier that morning his mind was buzzing. Up until that point he was enraptured by the idea that the two of them had created a life together. Now it's finally occurring to him that he's actually going to be a father to that life.

Alexander Hamilton considers himself an expert on many things, but fatherhood does not even begin to make the list. His father left their family when Alex was ten and didn't really do much parenting before that anyway. And what Alex lacks in a reference point, he certainly does not make up for in parenting instincts. Sure, he's always liked kids, but the idea of having the ability to shape one's entire life is enough to make his stomach churn.

He snaps back to reality when he hears floorboards creaking just outside his office, alerting him to his wife's presence.

"Alex? It's almost eleven, you should come to bed," Eliza says softly, her voice husky with sleep. She comes up behind him, placing a cool hand on the back of his neck.

Alex keeps his head down, trying desperately to compose himself. The last thing he wants is to put Eliza under more distress than pregnancy has already caused her.

Of course, she notices his unresponsiveness and refuses to let it slide. "Hey," she murmurs, gently prying a hand away from his face. "What's going on?"

"Don't worry about it." He hates the way his voice wavers. Looking up at her, he gives his best attempt at a smile. "It's just been a long day."

She shakes her head, squats down so she's level with him. "Sweetheart, don't do this. Let me in."

The look in her eyes, so gentle and concerned, is enough to make him want to cry. Thankfully, he's gained just enough control to push the tears back before they fall. Eliza places a hand on his knee, silently urging him to open up to her.

"It's not a big deal," he mumbles, resolutely avoiding her gaze. "I'm just feeling a little panicky."

Eliza sighs. She knows him well enough to understand "a little panicky" is code for having a panic attack. "Alex, we talked about this. You don't have to hide this stuff from me. I can help you." Her voice is quiet, but the note of worry in her tone is unmistakable.

Guilt fills Alex instantly. He knows that all she's ever wanted is help him, to give him peace of mind. Regardless, he's always tried to shield her from this side of him, doesn't want to expose the darkness to her.

"I'm sorry," he replies, finally looking at her. "I just didn't want to put you under any stress."

Her expression softens even more. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be yelling at you while you're upset." She stands slowly, the sizeable swell of her abdomen a hinderance. "Let's go to bed," she says, reaching out a hand to pull him out of the chair.

She wraps an arm around his waist, knowing it's hard for him to stand on trembling legs. Together they walk to their bedroom, where she sits him on the bed and climbs into his lap. It's slightly awkward at first, her belly pushing against him, but she shifts until their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Alex leans to press their foreheads together and tries to time his breathing to hers.

As usual, Eliza knows exactly what to do to calm him down. She buries one of her hands in his hair, gently raking her blunt nails across his scalp. The other rests on his shoulder, solid and comforting. "It's okay, sweetheart, you're okay," she soothes. "Just breathe."

After a few minutes his heart stops racing, his breaths deepening. She must sense the change because she pulls away so she can look into his eyes. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" she asks carefully.

He doesn't. He knows it's absolutely idiotic to get so worked up about this, that no normal man would have a panic attack over impending fatherhood. A nagging voice inside his head says that she will think less of him if he tells her. But she promised to love him for better or for worse, and he's never known Eliza to break a promise.

"I know it's stupid," he starts, hoping that this statement will make what he's about to say less embarrassing. "But after the ultrasound today it really hit me that I'm going to be a dad and I...I don't know if I can do it. My dad was never around, so I don't really have a lot of material to go off of. I've never been one for domestic life and I'm trying to do better for you, I really am, but I don't know if I can be enough."

To Eliza's credit she listens intently to his rambling, but she's frowning and her eyes are welling up with tears by the time he finishes. "Oh Alex, you can't really think that."

Alex turns his head away from her, face burning with shame. Not only is he hurting himself by being irrational, but now he's hurting Eliza too. He wonders, not for the first time, how much better life would be if he could just keep the negativity inside of him. Feeling her eyes still on him, he wishes they could just forget about the whole thing, but he can tell by her expression that she has something to say.

Eliza takes his hand in hers and places it on her stomach. "Alexander Hamilton, you are going to be the best father our child could ever dream of. I've seen you with the kids at the orphanage, they love you. You are kind and supportive and I have never met someone who has the capacity to love as deeply as you do." She catches his chin in her hand, forcing him to look at her. "There is no one else in the world I would rather have this child with. Please believe that."

This time he can't stop himself from crying, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto his shirt. Eliza wipes them away with her thumb, kisses his forehead. He runs his hand across her stomach, trying to ground himself. She loops her arms around his neck and Alex feels some of his anxiety begin to fade.

He rests his cheek on the top of her head, exhales deeply. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"You are you," she replies gently. "That in itself is enough."

They stay in silence for a few moments until she stifles a yawn and Alex realizes it's half past eleven and his pregnant wife is still awake. A lack of sleep has never been kind to Eliza, but now she's lucky to make it past nine.

"It's past your bedtime, Mrs. Hamilton," he teases. She nods against his chest, apparently too tired to speak and he chuckles. He helps her up and pulls back the blankets so she can crawl into bed.

After stripping down to his underwear he crawls in beside her, shutting off the bedside lamp. Normally he'd lie awake for at least an hour, but he can already feel his eyelids drooping. The last thing he's aware of before he drifts off is Eliza snuggling into his warmth, sighing blissfully. He may not be perfect, but for her he is enough.