Musical... sort of.

Joy hadn't left the corner for a long time.

How long it had been exactly, Sadness couldn't say for sure. She had lost count. Days, weeks, perhaps even months - all had gone by in a blur. All without Joy's warm yellows at the polished wooden console, or on the elegantly carved memory shelves. Blue, yes. Plenty of that, as usual. Purple, green and red all saw equal shares on those shelves. But no yellow. Once upon a time, yellow had gleamed among a near-majority of the memories, with blue making up an equal part. Nowadays, there was very little color at all. The memories that were created were all a deep ashy shade, with only a hint of any color within them. Sadness couldn't help but entertain the idea that it was her fault that color had almost entirely left Headquarters. She hadn't gone over to talk to Joy since she had first slumped down in that corner.

Sadness had forced herself to focus on her job and not Joy, but that didn't mean she didn't notice anything. She could see Joy's soft glow, flickering ever-so-slightly as the yellow girl shivered, in grave danger of going out for good. It seemed to grow worse with every sob. Perhaps that was what affected her most. Most of the time, Joy simply sniffled, but every once in a while, Joy wept. Every cry twisted Sadness's heart further, every tear shed seemed to burn away at her own skin.

The other emotions… well, they hadn't exactly been sympathetic to Joy's situation. Sadness had conversed with each of them privately. Fear had also noted Joy's state, but she had no idea how to speak with her, or if it would help matters in the long run. As for Anger and Disgust, they blamed Joy completely for everything that had happened since that visit from their sister, with no desire to welcome her back anytime soon.

So much had happened since Joy's touch had last graced the console. Joy had briefly stepped away as they had read the booklet, pressed into their hands by their ever-loving sister. She had tugged open the Core Memory podium, gazing at the gleaming yellow orb that marked the very moment their host had been bound to the love of her life, the man of her dreams. Running her fingers over it, again and again, revisiting the moment their lips had touched. The memory had suddenly fallen out of the podium, the connected Island of Personality going dark and limp. Joy had picked the memory up, cradling it in her arms like she was holding a newborn child. That had been when the crying started.

After that, Joy had still helped out at the console occasionally, mostly while dealing with family matters. No one dared speak of what they had read. No one felt they needed to. After all, losing one Core Memory was not exactly an emergency. They still had quite a few, enough to constitute a well-fleshed personality. Islands dedicated to the people in the host's life, intermingled with the proper, ladylike qualities that had been so emphasized throughout her education. Everybody entertained the hope, however dim, that the darkened Island could return to its former glory someday.

Then came the night when Fear, sorting through the idea candles one night after Dream Duty, had discovered one that made her gasp and throw it across the room. Anger had caught it. She had gone down to the sleeping chambers showed it to Disgust. Then Sadness, then Joy. Joy had shaken her head and whispered a protest upon hearing Anger's intent. She had received a strike across her face.

Everyone but Joy had, wearing nothing but their nightgowns, gone to the console to wake the host and implement the idea. Joy stood back, holding the ousted Core Memory. As the idea went into action, the barren island quivered briefly before crumbling into ashes. The two central statues crumbled first. Then the paper-white foliage surrounding them. Down into the Memory Dump, it all went. Joy had watched in horror, only Sadness daring also to peek back at the destroyed Island.

That had been when Joy slumped into her corner, still cuddling the Core Memory. She had not moved since.

Then, not long after the Island had disappeared from the Mindscape, yet another tragedy struck.

All but Joy were at the console, watching a life slip away before their eyes. Out of nowhere, a small flame sprang up. No one knew how it had appeared. It slowly traversed across the console, leaving any space it touched a deep, inky black. No longer did any buttons, levers, or knobs respond to a touch of an emotion once they had blackened. Anger had stormed off in frustration, tearing at her long black hair as she muttered something unhearable, but the rest had stayed behind, desperately attempting to work the console. The fire had continued to spread until every inch of the console's surface had turned black.

That had been some time ago - again, Sadness wasn't sure how long. Disgust had joined Anger in retreating to their chambers, convinced nothing could be done. Fear was also currently in her chambers, but she had brought all the Mind Manuals with her in hopes of discovering a solution to their little problem. Only Sadness had stayed behind, gazing through the window at the outside world, contemplating how it all went so abysmally wrong.

A soft whimper came from the corner. Sadness turned slowly. In the corner, Joy quivered. Her long, dark hair was obscuring her face and arms, but Sadness knew exactly what positions those were in. Joy's bright blue eyes would be flooding with tears, her arms protecting the neglected Core Memory.

This had gone on for long enough, Sadness decided. This isn't safe. Not for any of us. Certainly not for Joy. And not for… our family.

Sadness came closer to Joy, gathering up her pale blue skirt and kneeling to her level. "Joy?" she whispered.

Joy's head elevated by the slightest angle.

"Would you like me to hold the Core Memory for you?"

Joy stayed motionless for a moment, then let the memory fall into Sadness's arms. Part of the memory turned blue, but only part. As Joy had so often done before, Sadness rewound the memory over and over again, Joy looking on. They watched as their girl fell hopelessly into the arms of her then-new husband, and their lips touched in a passionate but sweet and simple gesture. This memory was many years old, and it was beginning to show its age. The surface, once perfectly smooth, was beginning to crinkle like paper.

Sadness knelt there, beside Joy, for what seemed to be hours. Neither emotion had the courage to speak.

Sadness was the first to open her mouth again. "I wish I had known this would happen," she admitted.

"You couldn't," Joy answered, her voice rusty with lack of use, though still as melodic as ever. "No one could."

"There must have been something we could do, though."

"Not we. Me. It's my fault."

Sadness placed a hand on Joy's shoulder. "Don't say that…?"

"Why not?" Joy whimpered, tears beginning to flow. "I should have been there. I could have helped. I could have taken that candle far away from the console, broken it in half, and tossed it into the Memory Dump. But I didn't."

"Joy, look at me."

"I feel so powerless, there's nothing I can do… I'm… I'm…"

"Joy, look at me."

Joy did as she was asked almost instantly.

"Listen to me. This memory - the fact that this memory still shines so brightly, even after all of… that… only proves that you have played more of a part than you could ever imagine. Sometimes, keeping a memory alive is the greatest power of all." Sadness paused. "You… you understand me, right?"

Joy slowly nodded.

Sadness slipped her hand into Joy's. "I know I haven't been there for you. None of us have, and that hurts me more than anything you could have done. I want to change that. I should know how it feels to be in your shoes. How it feels to be… helpless."

She glanced up at the window. Something was beginning to happen. Something Joy would certainly appreciate.

"It's time to come back, Joy."

Joy's eyes widened, but Sadness noticed a gleam. A gleam that hadn't been there in so long. "Come on," Joy whispered, standing. "You're right. It's time."

The two walked to the console, side-by-side, their dresses swishing gently with each step they took. They heard the quiet plea. They smiled at each other. Then, in tandem, they touched a single button.

The console returned to its rich brown color, the blackness flaking away as blue and yellow light shone from within.

A flash of light, the chime of a bell.

Joy turned and, for the first time in ages, smiled brightly. The freshly-formed, bittersweet Core Memory took its place in the podium, replacing the one Joy had been cradling for so long.

Joy didn't notice, but Sadness also smiled.

Meanwhile, on the outside, in a small garden in uptown New York City, a passerby could see a couple, an older couple, both dressed in black, hands clasped, smiling tearfully at each other.

The man, sporting glasses and grey hair, looking far older than he had any right to, was well-known as the revolutionary and politician, financial mastermind, Alexander Hamilton.

The woman, less well-known but with an equally great purpose in history, was the love of his life, Eliza Schuyler Hamilton.

I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I'd been wanting to give Eliza her own chapter for a while. She's such an emotional character! Here are your hints:

1. The wooden console and shelves, candle-based ideas, and window to the outside, as well as references to paper and the console burning instead of shutting down, hopefully imply a pre-industrial time period.

2. Five girls. Y'all should know what that means by now.

3. Sadness and Joy appear to share the role of the main emotion. Eliza is noticeably more optimistic and joyful in her youth, detailed in Act 1 of Hamilton, and while she is a bit more melancholy from "That Would Be Enough" onward, she never quite loses that joyful spark - although it does become more subdued and mature over time.

4. The emotions are described with long, dark hair and long blue dresses. Eliza usually wears blue throughout the musical, and her original actress, Philippa Soo, has the hair described here. I figured that the original Broadway cast would be what most people automatically picture when they think about Hamilton's cast.

5. I didn't explicitly describe most of the Islands of Personality, but they are noted to be related to Eliza's more ladylike qualities, as well as her relationships with her family. The Island that this chapter centers around represents her love for her husband. The "paper-white foliage" represents the love letters they exchanged. The initial Core Memory is, of course, the climax of "Helpless", the Hamiltons' wedding.

6. Sadness and Joy express sentiments held by Eliza herself - specifically, her feelings of helplessness and her knowledge that keeping a memory alive is as important as making a memory (as detailed in "Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story".)

7. I went with more of a sequence of events for this particular chapter. I started with Eliza receiving the Reynolds Pamphlet from her older sister, Angelica. Although her love for her husband takes a clear hit, Eliza keeps it together for the kids... until she gets the idea to burn his letters to her. That's when the Island crumbles, hence the references to ashes. Then, upon Phillip's death, Eliza's console undergoes a "depression greying", like what happened to Riley's console in Inside Out proper. The scene that's actually happening during all this is the climax of "It's Quiet Uptown", where Alexander begs for his wife's forgiveness and she decides to grant it. This is what allows her to feel emotion again, and this moment becomes the new basis for her relationship with Alexander.