A/N: So I decided to write this based on a couple of tumblr posts, so a shout out to alexdanderhamphilton who put the idea into my head of making a story where Jefferson and Hamilton have to endure their kids falling in love and macaroon22 who's beautiful art inspired most of the Jefferson family feels you are about to read ahead in this chapter.

I am warning you now, this first chapter is very angsty because it follows the death of Thomas Jefferson's wife, Martha. Most of my time writing included researching this. Some historical fun facts that I included was the fact that Martha asked him to promise her that he wouldn't remarry and Thomas never did. He also fainted when his wife died, so badly that they were afraid he wasn't going to wake up. He also fainted at the sight of seeing his kids as well. Also Martha was known to be a very musical and kind lady, who had a temper like nobody's business. Just a few facts for your lovely readers.

And final note, the first two chapters of this story will be more of a prologue and setting stuff up. Jefferson also had a daughter around Philip's age, but she was four years older than him and married by the time he was eighteen. But when researching it I actually found out that Jefferson had a daughter born the same year as Phillip, sadly though she died when she was a toddler because of whooping cough (which is absolutely horrible i had it and was never the same). Though I decided since this will be pretty AU from what actually happened, why not have her not die of whooping cough and grow up and fall in love with Philip? Why not? This is fanfiction, after all.

That's all I wanted to explain. Also I dedicate this to Daveed, a beautiful human who left the Hamilton cast less than a week ago. Okay, I'll stop now. Just enjoy this mess of feels.

Spring 1782

In the middle of the night, it seemed all of the Monticello household was on edge.

Two little girls stood quietly outside a bedroom, knowing if they made a sound they would be caught and receive a scolding for being up so late. But neither of the girls could help it, being woken up by their mother going into labour caused quite a stir. Both girls had been waiting for this for months, eagerly having debates on the gender of their new sibling to be.

Their father shifted, having stayed in the room the entire time, shaking in the corner from nerves. Thomas couldn't help but worry for his wife, knowing that she had been in delicate health for some weeks prior to the birth. He couldn't help but flinch every time she screamed in agony as the midwife encouraged her to push. Despite going through this many times before, nothing would calm him down as his heels clicked across the floor as he paced, creating an annoying tapping sound that irritated his wife.

"THOMAS, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON'T STOP PACING I WILL HALT THIS LABOUR RIGHT NOW AND COME OVER THERE AND HIT YOU!" Martha yelled sharply at her husband, causing the man to pause in utter surprise. He wasn't aware his pacing was annoying her so, but her demand was more than even to make him stop in his tracks completely. Thomas knew better than anyone not to challenge her temper.

Martha resorted back into her aggravated screams as the midwife made the announcement that it would all soon be over. Suddenly the entire household was filled with an even more shrill and high-pitched cry. The midwife smiled as she brought the crying child into the world, looking to the mother who let out of a huff and fell back on the bed.

Another moment was not wasted as Thomas moved to his wife's side. She turned her head towards him slowly, her face covered in sweat. Any anger she presented to him a few moments ago were washed away when she met his gaze. "You did so well, my love." The man leaned in to whisper, earning a weak smile from Martha. He reached and took her pale hand, squeezing gently. The husband and wife turned both their heads to the midwife who was settling the newborn into the world.

She looked up at the couple, who looked up at her tentatively as if they were new parents. She smirked gently, knowing that was far from true but noting that it was a nice sight to see. The midwife looked back down at she wrapped the baby in a blanket, who was an undoubtably small thing who looked up at her with wide eyes. "Time to meet your parents." She told the child with a soft smile, standing up and walking to the couple. "Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson, meet your new baby girl."

After the midwife's introduction, she placed the child in Martha's arms. Thomas almost looked jealous. His wife already knew he truly was but was trying his best to hide it. She knew he couldn't wait to get his hands on something he created, especially his child. But the mother delighted in holding her youngest daughter in her arms, her fingers gently brushing over the tiny hands of the infant.

"Hello Lucy Elizabeth," Martha adjusted the infant in her arms, grinning as her daughter wrapped her entire hand around her index finger. "Lucy Elizabeth? As in-" Thomas cut himself off when he noticed Martha's face had changed drastically. The woman had been a wreck after the death of their last child, a girl of the same name. Martha was too familiar with the loss of children, having a son from her previous marriage that had passed. But in their years together, Thomas and her had both suffered the loss of three.

Martha brought a smile onto her face as she tried to remain hopeful. "She'll make it. I know it." Martha whispered, more to herself than to her husband. Thomas pressed a kiss to his wife's temple, moving onto the bed as he wrapped an arm around her. His eyes went down to their youngest in her arms and he nodded his head softly. "Lucy Elizabeth, second of her name." He commented, smiling along with his wife.

The midwife was washing her hands as the door to the room was suddenly thrown opened by an overexcited four year old. Mary Jefferson, more affectionately known by her nickname Polly, wasn't even tall enough to reach the handle and was thus accompanied by her older sister Martha, named after her mother.

Polly was a spinning image of her mother, sharing her fair complexion and long black hair. Martha took after her father in looks with a crazy head of dark curls that she contained by pinning it away from her face, in a puff of curls that collected around her head just below her chin. Their personalities couldn't vary more from each other, as the young four year old bounced with excitement at the sight of their new sister, and the nine year old immediately caught on to the glare their parents gave them.

"Girls," Martha began, using a tone her eldest daughter would never forget,"it's one in morning. What are you doing still awake?" The mother scolded them. The younger Martha was quick to look apologetic, but Polly was a different story however, as she completely ignored her mother and ran to her father's side.

"You said her name was Lucy Elizabeth, does this mean I have a little sister? I'm not the youngest anymore?" Polly seemed too overjoyed over that fact, and Thomas was quick to indulge his daughter, bringing her into his lap. Polly giggled as he brought her closer to the baby.

Both parents were shocked when Polly was rendered speechless at the sight of Lucy Elizabeth. The four year old was a giggly ball of energy a few seconds ago, and now she was quiet as her older sister was.

"She's so tiny... like a bean... she's a bean. My bean." Polly finally whispered, reaching out to touch her sister just as Thomas lifted her off of his lap. He set Polly back onto her feet, sending her over to his eldest daughter. "To bed. Both of you." He ordered.

For the first time since she entered the room, Martha finally decided to speak up. "But that's not fair, Polly got to see her-" The nine year old protested, earning a raised hand from her father to quiet her. The girl immediately crossed her arms, looking down to her sister with a fierce glare. "Nice going. You couldn't have kept your hands to yourself, could you?" She scolded as Polly shrugged her shoulders innocently as she skipped out of the bedroom.

Martha looked back to her mother with a small pout, and her mother finally relented. Thomas found himself being pushed away gently by his wife. He stopped and watched Martha swinging her legs over the side of the bed as she held her newborn in her arms. She stood up slowly, taking a few steps towards her eldest daughter.

Just as Martha took another step, a wave of dizziness washed over her. The mother collapsed onto her knees, clutching her baby to her chest in fear she might drop her or hurt her as she went down.

"Martha!" Thomas cried out, running to her side along with the midwife. The midwife took the child away from the woman, who had now began to sweat once again. Thomas helped his wife up, his eyes going to his daughter who stared with great concern for her mother. "Martha, go to bed." He demanded, yet his voice was too soft to appear stern.

The young girl stood in shock as she watched her mother, a dread falling over her as she couldn't help of thinking of other times when her mother was weak like this before. "Papa-" "Martha, go to bed!" Thomas yelled, noticing he had started to shake again as he led his wife back to the bed to lay down.

As soon as she was laying down, she met Thomas's eyes with a frown and reached to touch his cheek. "Do not yell at our daughter, Thomas." She warned him, her tone soft as she dropped her hand. Thomas laid Martha on her side, looking back to his nine year old. "I'm sorry." The man apologized quickly as looked at her.

She didn't appear like she had accepted her father's apology however, and turned and left the room without another word. The midwife stared at his wife, holding his daughter in his arms with an uneasy look in her eyes. Thomas quickly moved to her, taking her aside. "Will she be alright?" He asked her, his voice filled with fear.

The midwife didn't say anything at first, she just held out his daughter, handing over the baby to Thomas. "I don't know what to tell you, Mr. Jefferson, other then if she doesn't recover soon I suggest calling a doctor. All you can do now is take your daughter and leave Mrs. Jefferson to rest." She instructed and Thomas looked down at his daughter who was now peacefully asleep in his arms.

He nodded his head gently, moving to the door to take her to the nursery. The man paused, turning back to look at his wife. Martha was still awake, watching him with soft eyes. She smiled as he looked at her, and his heart swelled with grief to think of a world where Martha wasn't in it.

Autumn 1782

A few months had passed since Lucy Elizabeth Jefferson had entered the world, and Martha was still bedridden. Thomas would often enter her bedroom, in hopes of finding her miraculously in good health again. But sadly as he passed the door to the bedroom, the best he could get from her was occasionally reading a book or writing something down on a piece of paper.

This day wasn't any different, as he passed by the room. The door was closed, and he often took that as a sign she didn't want to see him. Thomas didn't understand why. When the doctor delivered the terrible news to him, he only wanted to spend as much time as he could with his wife before her time came. But Martha kept him at an arm's length, maybe more than that, often telling him to look after their children.

For someone who considered himself so smart, he was blind to see what she was truly doing. He couldn't see Martha was preparing him to be in a world without her.

He made his way downstairs, surprised when a familiar sound filled the house. Piano playing. The man immediately smiled at the thought, rushing down the stairs and practically sprinted to the music room. When he opened the doors however, Thomas found the Martha he expected to be playing was not his wife but his daughter. Although he couldn't hide his disappointment as his daughter turned to look at him, he tried his best.

"Sorry I interrupted your playing, I just thought-" "That I was Mother?" Her voice sounded so small as she cut him off. He nodded his head a little to answer her.

Martha nodded her head back at him, looking back at the piano keys. "I miss her playing too. I thought if I played... it would make it better." Martha explained, pursing her lips and lowering her head. "I miss your music too, Papa." The little girl admitted. She sounded so defeated as she confessed, and Thomas couldn't help but make his way over to her.

He placed his hand gently on her shoulder,"I miss it too. Why don't you go back to playing and I'll play along with you?" Thomas offered. She smiled up at her father before nodding in agreement, turning back to continue playing. As her music began to fill the room, Thomas went over to the corner to where he left his violin case.

It seemed like ages had passed since he had opened the case, and when his eyes finally laid on the instrument he smiled at his old friend. Countless of times he spent with his wife playing this violin as she sat and watched, just enjoying his hobby. His favorite time however was when she accompanied him on the piano.

Thomas spent a few seconds tuning the instrument, before he finally dragged the bow across to produce a magnificent sound. Martha grinned from the piano seat, and her father soon joined in on her melody. The violin and piano were often perfectly paired instruments, and the two had no trouble in producing a great sound which filled the room.

As he decided to speed up, the nine year old could hardly keep up with him. She stumbled across some keys, earning a teasing chuckle from her father. Thomas began to play loudly, reminding him that he had almost forgot how fun it was. His tempo didn't seem to slow down, much to his daughter's displeasure.

However she remained determined to keep up with him, and soon caught up. The lively music came to a climax as Thomas hit higher notes, and Martha took his cue as she began to bash out some chords she knew to carry them towards the end. The chaos of their music finally came to a grand ending as Martha finished her last chord, and Thomas dragged out a vibrating note on his violin.

The two met each other's eyes with enormous grins on both of their faces, and their little performance was met with some clapping much to their surprise.

In the doorway, stood the older Martha leaning on the frame. She was fully dressed, wearing one of her favorite dresses. The yellow dress Thomas had often compared to sunshine, which is why he purchased it for her. He smiled fondly when he remembered her reaction. It was probably the only time she had genuinely praised his taste in fashion.

"You're up." He put his violin and bow back in their case without another thought as he went over to her. Thomas didn't waste a moment before kissing her, surprised at how hot her skin felt underneath his finger tips as he cupped her face.

When he pulled away and met her eyes, the man suddenly figured out the reason why she was so hot. "You're feverish, Martha." He pointed out, and she nodded her head. His wife knew she couldn't deny it, despite getting dressed and even putting together her hair, she still looked quite ill.

She ran a hand down his magenta sleeve, reaching his hand and gently wrapping her delicate fingers around his palm. "One good day. One last normal day. It's all I ask, Thomas. I just wanted to see our Lucy, but then I heard you two playing." She explained, looking past her husband to her daughter. "Martha, that was beautiful." She complimented her daughter.

The nine year old smiled up at her, oblivious to her mother's true nature in that moment. She was convinced that out of bed meant that her health must've gotten better.

Thomas nodded his head at his wife, knowing he couldn't deny her anything at this point. Martha smiled, letting go of him, and moving towards the direction of the nursery. Before she left however, she looked back at him. "Play with your daughter." She instructed firmly, narrowly her eyes into a playful glare at her husband.

Soon it was replaced with a smirk as Thomas proceeded to stick his tongue out at his wife. "You're no better than Polly." She rolled her eyes, finally turning and walking down the hall. Thomas turned back to his daughter with a smile on his face, not realizing that being with his wife had truly relieved him of any worry he carried for her.

"You heard your mother. Play!" He exclaimed with a chuckle as his daughter nodded her head and began up again, this time playing a different melody.

Thomas and Martha had been playing for nearly an hour when they heard the crash. It was loud, almost like something had shattered.

He didn't waste any time as he quickly put away his instrument once again. Martha stared at her father with worry,"Papa, do you think that could've been-" "Martha, stay here. Okay? Please stay here." He ordered his daughter as he rushed out of the room.

Nothing could prepare him for what he found when he threw open the door to the nursery. His wife laid painfully still on the ground as their infant daughter cried in her crib. Thomas fell onto his knees, turning his wife over and pulling her into his arms. He brushed her black hair aside, his eyes noticing the broken glass on the floor from the lamp that must've fallen over.

Martha was dangerously pale, and the man couldn't tell if she was breathing or not. His mind fell into panic to think that this would be the moment where she would die. But the woman soon stirred, fluttering her eyes open and slowly adjusting to sight of her scared husband.

"Thomas..." "Shh, you don't need to speak. All that matters now is that you're okay– that you're alive." He quieted her, his voice quivering as he stroked her cheek softly with the back of his palm. The couple was soon reminded of their crying infant as Lucy let out a loud wail, and Thomas helped his wife up. Martha leaned against the crib weakly, reaching in and shushing her daughter quietly.

A tear slipped down her cheek as she stared at her young daughter, and Martha looked over at him. "My mother died when I was just six days old. I never knew her. I know our Lucy is a little further along than that, but..." She trailed off as her eyes burned with more tears. Thomas placed his hand on her back, but it didn't make her feel any better.

"Promise me you won't remarry." Her voice was a whisper when she finally said it. "I know it's a lot to ask but I'm not doing it because of you. I mean in no way to stop you from ever loving again. I grew up never getting along with my step-mothers. I don't want that for our girls. I couldn't stand another mother raising my children. Maybe this is wrong of me to ask but-" She was cut off by her husband pulling into a hug.

She decided not to argue with it, and just embrace Thomas back. They stayed quiet for a few minutes, holding each other as if it were the last time. And truly, it could've been. Thomas finally pulled away, meeting her eyes. "It's not too much to ask." He answered. "I promise you. I will never remarry."

Hearing him promise her brought more tears to her eyes, and Martha cried softly as Thomas gently wiped her tears with both of his thumbs. "I'm sorry I have to leave you, my love. Ten years is not enough." She said gently, and he nodded his head in agreement. "No amount of time on Earth with you could've ever been enough. I wished for forever, but wishes don't always come true, do they?" He frowned as the words left his lips.

"You're wrong. They do." She whispered, leaning in. Thomas furrowed his brows as her response, and Martha simply smiled weakly. "I was able to meet you. I got the chance to love you, and to have you love me back." When she finished, a tear trailed down her husband's cheek as he pulled her into a kiss.

Outside the nursery, a nine year old stood against the wall. Martha couldn't contain her tears as she clutched her hands close to her chest. She had long suspected it, but never could truly imagine her mother was dying. She heard movement towards the door and quickly ran to hide around the corner.

She watched her father take her mother slowly back to her room. Martha stayed silent until they were out of her sight, and the girl quietly moved into the nursery.

The girl paused at the sight of her baby sister in her crib. Martha looked down, making sure to carefully step over the broken glass as she leaned against the crib. She watched the young infant inside, who had now settled back into sleep.

"Martha?" She almost jumped at the voice, whipping her head around to find her five year old sister at the door. Polly was usually the one to have a goofy smile on her face, but the sadness in the young girl's eyes only matched Martha's. The older girl held out her hand,"Watch the glass." She reminded as her sister made her way to her side.

Both of them went to stare down at Lucy, who was oblivious to the nature of all the commotion in Monticello. Martha wrapped an arm around her younger sister, and Polly rested her head on Martha's shoulder. "This is Mama's last gift to us, Polly. We have to protect her no matter what, okay? We can't lose her." She said softly.

Polly nodded her head a little, sniffling as she looked up at her sister. Martha frowned sadly to see the younger girl cry. "Why does Mama have to leave us?" Polly asked, her voice cracking. At first, her sister didn't know how to answer her, but finally decided to respond.

"I don't know why. Some things are just unimaginable."

Less than a week had passed before Martha's death. Thomas didn't leave her room during the last couple of days, staying by her bedside and often sharing conversations with her where he did most of the talking. She was content to hear him talk though, and never lost a smile no matter how weak she felt. The couple did their best to ignore the obvious, thinking it could be pushed off if they acted like it wasn't coming.

"Thomas." Martha began weakly, reaching for her husband who slept peacefully in a chair by her bed. The man shifted slightly, not fully waking up until he peeked his eyes open a little to see Martha staring at him. He jumped up in his chair, slapping his cheeks lightly to wake himself.

He looked around, rubbing his eyes a little. "What time is it?" He asked quietly, looking to his wife. "Sunrise, most likely. I'm thirsty, will you get me some water?" She asked him, and by the sound of her voice he did not doubt she was terribly dehydrated.

The man stood up, pausing as he went to the door, looking back to her. "You didn't sleep at all, did you?" He questioned. Martha pursed her lips, knowing it was more a rhetorical question. She knew how she must've looked by now, in no better shape than she was when she gave birth.

Her hair was never dry, instead it was always damp with her feverish sweats. Her skin was white as a sheet, and looking down at her hands she knew she must've already looked like a corpse. Martha frowned as she leaned her head back against her pillow.

"Just hurry back, okay?" She said, trying not to sound too demanding. Thomas smirked to think her temper wouldn't even leave her during this state. "Martha?" Thomas spoke gently, smiling fondly at her as he looked at her. "Yes, Thomas?" She asked hoarsely, still a little annoyed.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

With that, Thomas took off towards the kitchen. Normally he wouldn't enter this particular room of the house, as the man was too used to his slaves serving him. It took a few minutes to actually find the pantry with the cups, and when he did he frowned at the sight of tea cups.

He couldn't ignore her demand however and instead of looking for the right cup, he just grabbed a tea cup. Thomas chose one from the top, probably one of their finest ones. A white tea cup that was painted beautiful with tiny blue and pink roses. He found it would definitely be something to cheer her up, or at least something she could tease him about.

As soon as he filled the tea cup with water, he made his way back upstairs to the bedroom. He found Martha laying on her side, back facing towards him. Thomas smiled,"Don't tell me you've fallen asleep after I so graciously prepared a cup of water for you." He said, surprised when he didn't hear an annoyed response from the woman.

Something must've been wrong, but instead of listening to his first thoughts Thomas moved around the bed to the other side of her.

"Martha?" His voice cracked when he saw her face. She was still in a way someone sleeping could be, all her features were relaxed and she even showed a small hint of a smile. But a sleeping person breathed, and Thomas couldn't see her chest rising up and down.

She was just so still.

The tea cup dropped from his hands, splashing water all over the floor and breaking the cup in two much like the man's heart at the moment. "Somebody help!" He yelled, unable to move from where he was standing. His sister was the first to answer his cry, bursting through the door in her nightgown.

Martha Carr was Thomas's younger sister, a woman who had lost her husband, who had been a close friend of his, years ago. She often stayed at Monticello, getting along merrily with his wife of the same name. She had been looking after the girls all week while he locked himself away with his wife. Martha stared at her sister-in-law's still body and her mind immediately went to the worst.

"I'm calling the doctor." She decided, turning away to leave. His hand flew up, the most he had been able to move since he had found his wife like this. "No! Please... don't leave me in here." He begged.

It was the first time his sister had realized that since she had entered the room, he hadn't moved an inch. Martha quickly understood and walked carefully around the room. She took his arm, and began to slowly direct him out of the room.

He was painfully quiet as she led him down the hallway. Sometimes he would stop and she would practically have to drag him. It was hard for to look at her brother, so Martha kept her face forward. She knew if she looked back, she would only find him in tears.

She got him to his library, knowing it was one of his favorite rooms in the house. Martha thought her brother would recover in this room if anything. She opened the door, leading him inside slowly. The woman caught a glimpse of his face, and it hurt her heart to see he was now a mess.

"Papa?" The voice of Thomas's eldest daughter appeared outside the door of the library. Both brother and sister turned around to see the nine year old girl rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Martha looked up at her aunt and father, her eyes slowly coming into realization when she saw her father's face.

Thomas let out a loud sob that he had been holding back and fell onto his knees. He toppled over on the floor of the library, and his sister looked down at him in shock to realize he had fainted. "Thomas!" She yelled, falling down onto her knees next to her brother's side.

Three weeks had passed since the funeral, and all was quiet in the house. No children laughed or cried, not even Lucy who was just a baby.

Martha's ten birthday passed and no one celebrated it. Her aunt had prepared her a lovely breakfast though, even wishing her a happy birthday. Polly also presented Martha with a drawing of their baby sister which looked much more like a bean than anything. But the one person she wanted on her birthday was her father, but he remained locked in his room.

A few days since her birthday passed, and the ten year old stood outside the door to her father's room silently. Often she thought of coming in here, but could never find the courage. Thomas couldn't speak at the funeral, so Martha took it upon herself to speak in front of her family about a woman they all loved so dearly.

She convinced herself that if she could speak to them, she could speak to him. Martha pushed gently against the door to his room. Her eyes settled on the man who was hunched over on the floor. Thomas held his wife's music book, running his fingertips over the cover.

"Papa." Her voice surprised Thomas, who hadn't noticed that the door had been opened. Martha walked over to him, kneeling down and letting her black dress pool around her knees. It was sad to look at him, still dressed in the same black suit he wore for the funeral. "Papa, it's been three weeks since Mother's funeral and you haven't left your room once."

He didn't need her to point out the obvious, but as he looked up to catch a glimpse of the young girl's desperation he knew he had to appreciate it. She was trying. Thomas placed the music book on the floor, taking his daughter's hand.

Usually he found it so easy to state his opinion, but he couldn't seem to find the right words here. "What to say to you?" He wondered out loud, his voice cracking when exposed for the first time in weeks. Thomas looked up and met his daughter's eyes. "You have my eyes." The man commented, swallowing a lump in his throat. "You have your mother's name." Martha shed a tear as he added his last comment.

"I don't want her name. I don't want to be sad anymore. I don't want you to be sad anymore. I want to look at Polly and not cry because she looks like her. I want her back more than anything in the world-" She stopped as she let out a soft sob, and Thomas quickly pulled his daughter into his arms. He had been so wrecked with grief that he had forgotten that he wasn't the only one suffering.

"I want her back too." He whispered into his daughter's curly locks, gripping her waist tightly as he held her. Martha cried into his shoulder, letting out tears she felt like she had been holding back even since she heard of her mother's death.

The pair sat in their own sadness for a while. Neither one of them said a thing, and nothing needed to be said.

Finally, Thomas pulled away from the embrace. The man moved to wipe his tears, afraid that he had possibly been crying more than his daughter. He had to show her that he could recover from this, for her sake.

He couldn't raise three daughters like this, so if Thomas could start pretending he was strong maybe he could be in the long run.

"Why don't we go for a ride? Together?" Thomas suggested, and Martha was astonished at his response. Her father hadn't left his room in weeks for anything, but he wanted to go for a ride with her.

Before he could change his mind, the ten year old nodded her head quickly. She helped her father onto his feet, and Thomas weakly took a few steps. He balanced himself only by placing both hands on her shoulders, and as Thomas looked up at his daughter he was met with a smile.

When they exited the bedroom, they were found by a slave who seemed in great surprise to see their master up. Thomas hadn't stirred so long it wasn't hard for his slaves to be convinced that their master would die of a broken heart.

"One step at a time, Papa." She encouraged as they moved past the slave who had stopped in their task of cleaning just to watch. Thomas looked down at the floor as he linked arms with his daughter. "Thank you." He mentioned quietly to the girl.

Much like before when he had anchored himself to his wife, Thomas would now find that in his eldest daughter.

They reached downstairs slowly, passing the dining room. Polly sat eating her lunch with her aunt as they both noticed Thomas walking by. Her aunt simply smiled gratefully, taking a small sip of her tea as Polly let out a loud gasp. Martha and Thomas didn't pay attention to them as they made their way to the front doors.

Sunlight hit his eyes immediately as Martha opened the doors. Thomas staggered back a bit, a little taken back from the world he hid from for so long. Despite it creeping into the middle of autumn, the sun still shined over Monticello.

The beautiful day only sunk his heart however, as he felt it more fitting for it to rain or snow in the absence of his wife.

"I'll go get the horses." Martha said, letting go of his arm. Thomas was about to protest to the girl about leaving him alone, but she had already turned the corner when he opened his mouth.

Instead of whining about it, Thomas took a few steps down the front stairs, and sat on the top one. He stared across his estate, frowning as he did so. Thomas was always so proud of his home, but his mind couldn't help but wander to a time when this place hardly existed.

He would've married Martha right away when he first met her. She was a recent widow with a young son, but still beautiful as ever. As materialistic as Thomas was, he was often in love with the idea of most women than who they actually were. With Martha it was different. Maybe it was because she wasn't always kind. That her good nature hid a fire he was drawn to. All he could do was think of how much he loved her, and how hard it had been for him since her passing.

Martha approached with her horse and his, interrupting his thoughts. He tried not to show how he had been feeling as he stood up. Thomas walked over slowly and took the reins of his horse. He looked to his daughter and forced a small smile.

"Let me help you up." He offered, taking her waist before the girl could disagree. Martha was lifted onto her saddle with a blush on her face, frowning down at her father. "Papa, I could've done it myself." She pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest.

This time, Thomas genuinely smiled. "I know. I just wanted an excuse to help you." He admitted, and his daughter rolled her eyes at him as he went to mount his own horse.

Once the two were both settled onto their horses, Thomas took off riding down a path he was quite fond of. Martha followed behind him, riding at a slower pace that her father. Things got quiet between them as they toured the estate, venturing deeper into the greenery surrounding Monticello.

Martha often looked to her father, still concerned with his well being. Even if he made a point to hide his sadness Thomas couldn't stop the fact it was still written in every feature of his being right now. Every part of him ached at the fact his wife was no longer with him, and the man desperately tried to contain his pain.

However, it was still his first day being out of his room. Thomas was too fragile, and his daughter should've seen it coming.

Without a word of warning, her father paused his horse by pulling harshly on the reins. Martha furrowed her brows in confusion as her father dismounted his horse quietly. She watched him as he took a few steps. The young girl opened her mouth to say something, but she was cut off by her father.

Thomas let out a violent scream. He felt like he was shouting into the void, the whole world and his daughter disappearing around him as he yelled. His body shook with grief and the man angrily kicked his feet at the dirt of the path. He was angry. Angry at a world where he no longer had his true love in it. He balled his fists into his wild hair, pulling apart at the curls. As the man roughly pulled apart at himself, his daughter let out a sob at the sight of her father being a victim to his own suffering.

Just as quick as his screams went, silence soon engulfed the two when Thomas finally calmed down. Nothing was said for awhile, instead the only thing that could be heard was a distant song of a bird who was content with their afternoon.

Finally, it was Martha who broke their silence.

"I get it now." The ten year old spoke, her voice cold as she stared at her hands. Her father was confused, taken aback when he realized that the world still existed and that his daughter was still with him. He took a few steps towards her, clearly apologetic when he realized she had to witness that.

When he made her way towards her, she shook her head, quickly dismissing his guilt.

"No... no it's okay. I get it now. Nothing's ever going to be the same now. Is it?" She asked a question, but her face showed no indication of wanting it to be answered. Still Thomas answered her anyways.

"No. It's never going to be the same. But I promise it's not always going to be like this." Thomas said weakly. His words didn't make his daughter look at him however.

Instead the girl gripped onto her reins tightly. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Papa." She said, pulling on the reins and rushing off on her horse further down the path. Thomas stared as he watched her disappear into the line of trees, and all he could do was stand numbly for a few moments.

Since leaving his room he had been desperately trying to get back into a normal routine, but he found the only thing that helped was taking a ride. He no longer took Martha with him though, instead resorting to being alone on his horse where no one had to deal with his sorrow.

He had finally mustered the courage to go through his wife's belongings, knowing that no matter how much he hated it he would have to get rid of certain things that he didn't have the room to keep around. Thomas knew exactly what he wanted to keep, knowing any book belonging to Martha would surely survive.

There was one book which was his top priority: her favorite book. Thomas couldn't find it at first, making the mistake of thinking it would be kept on a shelf. When he thought about it however, it suddenly hit him as the man looked back to the bed she spent her last moment on Earth on.

She spent most of her time in bed reading, or writing something down. Whenever she wasn't resting or asleep, he could always find her curled up with it. Thomas never took notice of what book because he thought his wife wanted to be left alone. He should've known better that it would've been her favorite.

His hands slipped underneath the pillow, and as sure as she had left it, there it was. His fingers traced themselves over the texture of the cover, his eyes scanning the title. Tristam Shandy, a book by Laurence Sterne. One he could always remember Martha having.

As he opened the book, a folded piece of paper fell from the pages onto the floor. That must've been it. All the times he had found her writing was that one piece of paper perfectly folded which now sat perfectly across from his toes. The man quickly snatched it up, unfolding the paper to release its contents.

The paper disappointed him, mostly because Thomas was expecting a letter written by his wife that would be quick to heal his broken heart. However, what was written on the paper was not from his wife, instead only in her hand. It was quote, from the very book it came from.

His disappointment would've continued if he hadn't realized what quote Martha had written.

Time wastes too fast: every letter
I trace tells me with what rapidity
life follows my pen. The days and hours
of it are flying over our headers like
clouds of windy day never to return-
more. Every thing presses on–

Thomas was confused as he reached the end, and when he looked back to the book he realized that Martha never finished the quote. Months spent in bed, and all she had been doing was reading and trying to write this passage down and she never finished it. He couldn't help but think it was such a metaphor for life.

You spent all your life working towards finishing something, and your life could still end without ever reaching it.

What he planned to do next came with no hesitation. Thomas was quick to his office with the paper and the book between his hands. He didn't stop rushing until he had his quill between his fingers. He would finish this quote for her. This was something he could still do for her.

and every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, every absence which follows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make!

He stopped shaking when he finished the quote, and Thomas sat back in his chair as he let the ink dry.