The first time he opened his eyes, Alex felt tears running down his face. His son, his son had lauren's eyes.

The first time Eliza heard the name "Phillip" came out of Alexander's mouth as he held their son with teary eyes, she knew it was perfect.

"Phillip. It's perfect." She smiled. Alex had turned his head to he and gave a painful smile--why? she did not know-- "It's more than perfect." He chuckled, already facing his son.

John...

The first time John knew of the baby's name he cried clutching the letter by his hands.

"My dearest love, John.

He has my eyes, and he bares the name we gave--"

The first time a letter came from South Carolina that wasn't from his dear John, he felt time stop. Foreboding flooding his whole body with cold water.

God no.

He heard Phillip's soft cry from the other room. Eliza's words echoed through his mind. Dead... His love...dead.

He turned to his side, John.

No. John wasn't here. Nor will he ever be. Reality came crushing down and time begun to move once more. He heard his wife's worried voice ask out his name but he paid no heed and turn his heels.

"I have so many things to do."

Work. Work would distract him for a little while. Boy was he wrong. Work. Work, for the future John wouldn't see.

He had so much to do.

The first time Phillip grew bigger than a babe he couldn't take the pain. He had John's curly hair. And bright smile. He turn his back and and continued to write.

The first time Alexander noticed he held back the urge to scream. Phillip had freckles lightly kiss his cheeks. How? Why? Did God hate him so much? He remembered how he used to kiss John's freckles one by one. Will memories never stop haunting him?

The first time Eliza convinced him to stop work and listen to his son. He honestly thought he couldn't hold back the tears. Phillip would be a Poet. And Phillip...was everything they wanted.

"My name is Phillip." His son's nervous voice wavered.

Just like Lauren at times.

"...and I'm a poet." Hamilton smiled. He could just imagine his son sitting on John's lap , saying this poem. And John would do background noises, either repetition of some phrases or some encouraging provocative noises.

Eliza smiled. She finally made him smile.

The first time Hamilton notices his son's wavering voice finally dripping with confidence yet still filled with warmth, a mixture of Lauren's and his. He knew. He closed his eyes, forcing tears back. He knew. John wasn't forever gone. John would always be there--here.

In some funny way, Hamilton knew John watched over 'their' Phillip, even in death. Since Phillip was still a kid wouldn't it be natural for him to feel, or even see, ghost? Hamilton inwardly chuckle at the thought.

Hamilton knew John may be gone--his works gone, but in a way Phillip was still there, carrying some of John.

He opened his mouth and ohhhed at his son's poem. He laughed and smiled.

It was the first time ever since John's death, that his lover's death didn't haunt him. It was the first time he accepted it and carried on. It was the first time he could think of John again -- his smiles, laughs, eyes, every curve, every touch , ever single detail-- without grieving like it was the end of the world.

And it wouldn't be the last.