Requested by: MichaelaTheWordsmith

The days seemed to have gotten longer. Each one dragged on until it was unbearable to even open your eyes. There was a sense of guilt hanging in the air, that everyone could sense.

Precisely a week early, there had been a sudden alert of a victim in a duel. People had been pushed out of the way as the parents of the boy tried to reach him. The moment he was pronounced dead in the newspaper late the next morning, the townspeople knew things were going to change. And so they did.

Taking his children to church one early morning, Alexander couldn't get rid of the throbbing pain in his chest. His mind kept drifting to the mistakes he had made on that fateful day.

Philip. He silently looked up at the sky. His son was up there, safe in heaven. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he thought of the worry that his son must have felt. How the bullet hit him straight on and how much he cried.

"Father, why isn't mother going to church with us?" He snapped out of his thoughts as one of the children spoke up. The tears kept falling down his cheeks when he squeezed the little one's hand in his.

"She wanted to stay home." He knew exactly why his dear wife had refused to go to church. Eliza could barely stand to be in the same room as him. She would flinch away at his touch, never looking him in the eyes.

Alexander remembered when his son's heart had stopped beating. There had been a shrill scream from his wife and she had clutched her son's limp hands even tighter. Gone. Their son had been swept away from them.

He had tried to comfort Eliza, tell her that he was there for her. But he had forgotten of all the pain he had previously caused her. Being with another woman in secret for too long, and then sending their son to his own doom, all of his mistakes.

So when she had pulled back her hand from his, the only thing he wanted to do was to join his son. He didn't deserve to see his lovely wife suffer any longer. And he especially didn't want her to suffer because of him.

Reality flooded back in. Angelica, his oldest daughter, linked her hand with his. "Are you alright?" She gazed up at him, just like her brother had. Philip always managed to look up at his father like he was the greatest man in all of the world. And as the father he was, he had managed to fail that role.

"I'm fine, my dear." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, ushering the children into the church. There were a few deep stares he received from nearby adults. All of them looked at him with either shame or sympathy.

Alexander hesitated in the doorway, watching his children bound forward into the chapel corridor. Hands shaking, he reached for the doorframe. Just as he went to enter, the door in front of him caught his attention.

Placed at the top was a single cross. At the sight, his knees felt weak. Alexander collapsed on his knees and covered his face. Somewhere in the distance, his children were calling to him. And somewhere even farther, his wife was sobbing alone, mourning her son.

"Lord..." Completely lost for words, he raised his hands together at the cross. His face felt wet with tears, even more than before. He didn't know what to pray. Always faithful, but never able to form words to pray.

Alexander broke down in sobs, unable to complete the prayer. A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and he felt himself rising. When he opened his eyes, knees still shaking, he met eyes with his daughter.

Angelica placed one hand on her father's arm, letting him calm down. She was only a year or so younger than her brother and was able to understand the struggle her parents dealt with.

She linked arms with him, helping her weak father into the church. No words were exchanged between them as they passed other people, not even when they found their family seating. But as the ceremonies began, she leaned against him and silenced his cries.

Later that evening, Alexander found himself once again writing away at something in his study. The ink stayed wet as he continued to write. He was getting frustrated, as the side of hand began turning black.

After an hour of cursing under his breath, he threw his chair back, standing up. The glasses he wore were tossed somewhere in his study, left to be found at another time. He stormed out of the room, without looking back.

He went to take a fresh breath of air outside, only to be stopped at the sight of his wife. In her window chair, Eliza stared out at the world beyond the glass pane. She didn't turn to face her husband, who had noticed her.

"Eliza," he murmured into the empty distance between them. She didn't even flinch at the sound of his voice. He took a daring step forward, a step that made the floorboards creak underneath his feet. Those were the same floorboards his son had learned to walk on.

When he was close enough to touch her, she rose from her chair, muttering the words to only him, "Don't touch me."

Shrinking back, Alexander held his head low, by didn't budge from his spot. He snuck a glance up at his wife, who was still staring out the window. She hadn't slept in days, with her face all tear stained and hair a mess.

"Eliza, please." He reached forward again, this time she faced him. Eyes flashing with worry, she half shouted, "Leave me alone!"

The words echoed around the room. It felt like the ground beneath their feet was shaking ever so slightly at the impact. Alexander kept trying, refusing to leave her.

"I don't deserve you, Eliza."

She glanced at him, but didn't speak. He cleared his throat and continued, "But that doesn't mean that I won't stop loving you. I know that there have been many faults on my account, faults in which have caused you endless pain. Our son has passed, and I know how difficult it is for you. It's just as hard for me too, Eliza."

Eliza crossed her arms. "And you want me to give you sympathy? You're the one who told him to go duel that boy!" She shook her head before pushing past him and heading towards the hallway.

Desperate for her forgiveness, he grabbed her arm. She cried out, "Alexander!" There was distress in her voice, making him drop her arm from his grip.

Alexander took a deep breath. "Look, I'm not asking for your sympathy. I'm telling you that I'm here for you, whether you believe that or not. I don't want to see you suffer." He reached out again, this time not feeling her pull away.

"If there was a way I could go back in time and reverse it, I would be the one in that grave. For your sake, my dear." He bowed his head, feeling the tears forming. Shudders escaped from his mouth and he gripped her hand tighter.

"I love you." He swallowed down the lump in his throat and stuttered, "And I'm sorry."

The only thing heard was his sobbing. Eliza looked down at her husband, who had his head down, weeping uncontrollably. After all he had caused, after all the pain she experienced, the slightest bit of forgiveness slipped into her heart.

She placed her hand on his back, pulling him closer. Alexander weeped more in relief at the feeing of his wife holding him. Tears of her own formed, and she shushed him, rocking him back and forth.

The thought of Philip crossed her mind and she held her husband closer. She couldn't seem to say anything to him. All she wanted to do was hold her beloved and never let go.

Alexander buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing even more. The relief had washed over him almost instantly, when she accepted his affection. Eliza soothed his weeping, rubbing her hand up and down his back.

There was nothing they could to erase what they had lost. Nothing to erase the pain each of them was feeling. The only thing they could do was move along and keep each other by their side for the rest of their days.

. . . . . . . . . .
A/N: Thank you to MichaelaTheWordsmith for the request! This is based on Its Quiet Uptown, which is one of the most heartbreaking songs I've probably ever heard. I can't even begin to imagine what Alexander and Eliza went through at the loss of their son.