I'M BACK! Did you guys miss me? ;) Anyways, this is just a bunch of letters I imagined. More ridiculously fluffy Washingdad- Hamilton stuff. Lots and lots of fluff. This is kind of bad, so please no super harsh feedback. Not historically accurate in any way shape or form. Also I own nothing, like always. *sighs*

If one is never going to send a letter, what is the point of writing it at all? This question fills the mind of Alexander Hamilton as he shuffles through the stack of letters he had written to his employer, George Washington, over the years. The man had been Alexander's commander, President, and maybe a little bit more, though he'd never admit it. Still, it didn't make the thought behind the words untrue. He had meant every single thing he wrote, but he'd never be able to send these letters. Picking one up off the pile, he read over it again, recollecting on the past.

Dear General Washington,

I have recently become engaged to dear Elizabeth Schuyler, and our wedding is taking place in two weeks. I was wondering, if perhaps you would like to attend. And, if I may ask, would you stand in for my father? I know it is quite the strange request, but it would mean a great deal to me. I've always considered you to be the closest thing I have to a father, and if you would feel comfortable doing so, it would be an honor to have you attend as my father. Oh, no, no, no, I can never send this, I just can't.

He put the letter down with a sigh. Yes, that was the first time he had written a letter like that to Washington, but he hadn't disposed of it. Over the years, as he wrote more and more, he kept them in locked boxes, stowed under beds or in wardrobes, or in a firmly secured drawer, away from the world.

Another letter slid to the floor, dislodged by a slight breeze wafting in through the windows. As Alexander stooped to pick this one up, he recognized the first sentence. This one had been difficult enough to write, it had been more like a diary entry than a letter. He had written it after John's duel with Lee.

General-

Please I must be blunt. I simply cannot allow you to call me "son." I know I made this rather clear, but I am not your son. I have a father, and he left, and thus left me and my mother and brother alone, without a way to survive. I just cannot allow anyone to do this to me again. I trust you, but I trusted him, and he left, he abandoned us to die. Please, sir, understand that I do not mean disrespect, I just want to fend for myself in a world that seems to wish me dead.

Anyways, why would you even want me to be your son? I myself know that I must grate on the nerves of everyone around me with my incessant talking, and I apologize. It appears that it may be physically impossible for me to keep my mouth shut. Not to mention my background would likely tarnish your reputation. If things were different, sir, I would be glad to be your son, but things are still the same, and so I distance myself.

I really do wish that I could be your son. That I could be more than just your aide, and that I could actually have a father who cares about me. But I am only looking out for both of our best interests, and maybe one day you'll not be angry with me and I can show you this letter. Maybe one day I'll be able to send this to you. Maybe one day I could be your son.

.

Alexander gazed down at that one for a while, rereading it over and over again. Every single word was still true, and would always be true. And he knew he would never send this letter, or any of the others. He swept them all back into the box and place it in the wardrobe, forgetting to cover it up as thoroughly as he usually did.

ELIZA'S PERSPECTIVE! Ok so this is a new one for me, I'm going to try my best.

She was walking up the stairs, a candle in her hand, stifling a yawn. It was quite late, and even Alexander had gone to bed. She'd stayed up so she could finish a letter to Angelica. It was hard having your sister an ocean away, and they wrote frequently.

Her husband was snoring quietly in bed. Smiling to herself (getting Alexander to sleep was quite a victory), she opened their wardrobe to find a nightgown. When she did find one, she also found a small wooden box, clumsily concealed at the back of the shelf. On the lid the words, "Letters I'll Never Send" was written in ink.

Checking to make sure Alexander was still asleep, she carefully opened the catch. Inside, a pile of letters lay scattered and unorganized. Snatching one up, she peered at the heading, trying to see who the intended recipient would have been. Angelica, maybe? Or one of his friends?

Washington?

A quick check revealed that all of the letters were indeed for the former President. Picking one up, she brought it over to the candle so she could read it better. The letter said,

Mr. President

It is with a heavy heart that I write this. I wonder if you had heard that John Laurens, a man who was fighting the revolution down in South Carolina, was killed by the British, and after the war had ended, too. Lafayette is going back to France, he's hoping to bring freedom to his people. And I feel that I may be losing people that I care about. I feel rather childish for asking this of you, but please don't leave.

The letter cut off there, no signature. Eliza shuffled through a few more letters, all addressed to Washington. Some were as brief as the one she held in her hand, others were several pages long. Alexander was probably too embarrassed to send the letters, but she knew him well enough to know that he had always looked up to and admired the man. She also had a feeling that Washington would like to read these letters, recalling a story Alexander had told her, about how he had gotten incredibly angry with Washington for calling him 'son'. Eliza guessed that if the man wanted Alexander to be his son, it was more than likely, based upon these letters, that Alex wanted Washington to be his father.

Well, she was going to send the letters. Gathering them up, she shoved them into a packet along with a quickly penned note to the Washingtons.

Dear Mr. Washington,

I found these letters in a chest Alexander hid (though not very well). I thought it to be a shame that he'd never sent them, and decided to take matters into my own hands.

Eliza Hamilton

Satisfied, she ventured downstairs, laying the packet inconspicuously under a candelabra, where she would be sure to see it in time to give it to the postman.

Days passed. The letters were on their way to the Washingtons. And Alexander still didn't suspect a thing. Good job, Eliza, what if your plan goes horribly wrong? No, it would work. Everything would be fine. She hoped.

Meanwhile in Virginia…..

George Washington still received quite a bit of mail, even though he was no longer holding a government office. People asking for advice, opinions, and even just the occasional random letter from a friend. So he received the packet from New York, he ignored it at first, thinking it to be simple political nonsense.

Then, he noticed the name written on one side. Eliza Hamilton. Was something wrong? Had something happened? He picked up the packet and opened it. Two things fell out. One was a thick bundle of letters, and the other was a simple note from Eliza, explaining that she had found letters Alexander had written, and she was passing them on to him, for some reason.

Frowning slightly, he held up the bundle of letters, pulling one out. As he read through the papers, he grinned, delighted. Immediately he ascended the stairs, entering his study, ready to pen a letter to New York.

My Dear Alexander,

I recently received a letter from your wife, Eliza, which was accompanied by a packet of letters. I have a lot to say to you. Will you come down to Virginia for a day or two? I look forward to seeing you.

G. Washington

The letter arrived back at the Hamilton residence a week after the packet of letters was sent.

Alexander was sitting in his study when Eliza came in with a letter. "It's for you, from President Washington." He removed the wax seal and scanned over the paper. As he read, his stomach plummeted. The letters, oh no, Washington undoubtedly wanted to yell at him for being so ridiculous. It didn't matter, he was still being summoned to Virginia, he'd have to go.

How had Eliza managed to send the letters anyways? He must have left them out, and she'd assumed they were business papers. Alexander packed a small bag, he wouldn't need much for a quick stay in Virginia.

Descending the stairs, he explained to Eliza where he was going. Was it just his imagination or did Eliza look slightly pleased with herself? No, it must've been a trick of the light.

Mounting a horse, he steered it out of New York City. The ride to Virginia was quite long. Alexander settled back into the saddle and gazed around him at the countryside.

After many long hours of riding, and several wrong turns, Alexander rode into the yard of Mount Vernon. The house was huge, and incredibly beautiful. A man came up and took his horse, so Alex walked up to the front door.

Knocking twice, he stood awkwardly waiting for the door to open. It did, after a short wait. A woman he didn't recognize peered back at him. "Yes?"

Shuffling his feet, Alexander responded, "I'm Alexander Hamilton, I was asked to come here."

She nodded. "Oh. Come inside, you can wait in here." The woman led him into a small room, and Alexander sat down on a chair, shifting around, nervously awaiting Washington.

Footsteps in the hall heralded the President. Jumping to his feet, he bowed when Washington entered the room. Hands pulled him to stand upright, and he looked up, confused. Washington smiled down at him. "Alexander, it's good to see you. Here, come with me. I want to talk to you."

Nervous, Alexander trailed behind the President, and the man led him into a room that must have been his study. Washington closed the door behind them, and turned to Alexander.

He gazed at the floor, anxiously awaiting a lecture from Washington. He wasn't prepared for the fierce hug Washington gave him. "Alexander, dear boy, I read the letters that you wrote. You could've sent them, you know."

Too shocked to do much, Alexander could barely choke out his response. "Sorry, sir, I -I really didn't, I just wanted…." He suddenly can't speak. To be your son. Alexander closes his eyes. Another sentence he'll never say.

Washington seems to understand, and releases Alexander. Going to his desk, he picks up a piece of paper. Alex recognizes it as the letter he wrote before his wedding, asking the President to attend. "Son, no need to apologize. Really." Washington gazes down at the paper in his hand, smiling as he read it over again. "I would have, Alex. I would've been there for you. I still would."

Alexander hangs his head, muttering, "I was too embarrassed to ask."

"And I promise I won't leave. I'll be here for you."

"Really?"

"Yes."

He drew a shaky breath, and barreled into Washington, hugging him. "Dad?"

"Son."

Yay, done! That was too fluffy, I apologize. Anyway, I hope you all liked it. If you want me to write anything else, just let me know in the review section! Bye! ~RedCoatsRedder