They'll Tell the Story of Tonight

I may not live to see our glory

"Alexander? There's a letter for you." Eliza's soft voice broke Alexander out of his reverie. Her voice was hushed for fear of waking their son Phillip.

"It's from John Laurens. I'll read it later," Alexander dismissed the letter, not wanting to leave his son. Eliza stepped forwards slightly and opened her mouth to speak again.

But I will gladly join the fight

"No. It's from his father." The first hint, her words. The second, how softly she spoke them. Something was wrong.

"His father?" Alexander asked, worried now. He turned to Eliza, face twisted in confusion.

And when our children tell our story

Eliza nodded and Alexander asked, "Will you read it?" Eliza took a deep breath and began to read.

They'll tell the story of tonight

"On Tuesday the 27th, my son was killed in a gunfight against British troops retreating from South Carolina." Alexander's heart stopped, but Eliza kept reading.

"The war was already over. As you know, John dreamed of emancipating and recruiting 3000 men for the first all-black military regiment

His dream of freedom for these men dies with him."

Alexander stared blankly at his wife as he processed the news. His closest friend was gone. Dead. And so were John Laurens' dreams.

Tomorrow there'll be more of us...

"Alexander. Are you alright?" Eliza's voice was laced with worry. Her husband was staring at her without seeing, tears filling his blue eyes.

Alexander gave himself another second to mourn his friend before telling his wife, "I have so much work to do," and going to his office.