GOLDEN || S. REID

𝟻: 𝙻𝚘𝚜 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝙲𝙰

This was a new personal low for Eliza.

As she sat in Limbo, she could help but think about everything she'd done wrong in her life. Working backward from the moment she got shot, she wished she had been nicer to those FBI agents. They were only there to help and her disrespect was something they didn't have to deal with.

She also definitely would have been way nicer to her therapist. Court mandated or not, Dr. Smith did have feelings and Eliza acted as if she didn't. Truely, she was a terrible person.

Surely she could have been a better person. As more and more memories came back to her, she couldn't help but realize that she'd been practically a monster. If she lived... somehow... she'd try to become a better person. That was a promise.

Life was too short for her to be an asshole 24/7.

Eliza always wondered what death would look like. She wondered if she'd be greeted by the generations of Hamilton's that came before her or even just one. Would she have that heart-to-heart so often depicted in movies and TV shows? It was a valid wonder. Until now.

Now, sitting in an inky black void of nothingness, she got to find out that there was nothing. Nothing awaited her in the afterlife. As soon as she died, her stream of consciousness, her entire being, just ceased to exist. It really was an eyeopener and it absolutely terrified her. Eliza didn't want to die. Not yet, at least.

As the dark abyss around her grew lighter, she found her chest growing tighter, a feeling of existential dread settling itself well into her being. If this was her eternity of torture, it hardly seemed fair. Eliza was sure she deserved at least some sort of punishment beyond a heavy feeling. After all, even she would agree that she'd done some shitty things to get where she was.

Damn. She couldn't help but hate how she acted in life a little bit more. What an asshole.

Eliza closed her eyes as she fell backward, the light blinding her until she heard the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. Her brows pinched together in irritation, the noise sounding too much like an alarm clock for her to stay dead.

She winced as she opened her eyes to the too-bright hospital room, raising a heavy hand to block out the sun. At the foot of her bed laid Noah, her hair spread around her like a halo as she drooled on the hospital sheets. Riley had claimed the couch, so it seemed, the young actor sprawled out across the uncomfortable furniture with his legs hanging over the armrest. Eliza snorted. What a gentleman.

At her side rested Julia. One of her hands rested on Eliza's thigh as she snoozed, as if reminding herself that Eliza was in fact still alive. She found it endearing, the action reminding Eliza the way a child would hold onto their mother's hand in a crowd. Just Julia's touch alone brought her some semblance of comfort.

Eliza nudged the sleeping beauty slightly, a weak attempt in waking her up. She groaned out in pain as she shuffled to the side and pressed a hand under her rib. Damn, if this was how it felt to get shot then Eliza didn't want it.

"Julia," she strained, grimacing at the rough feeling in the back of her throat. How long has it been since she'd had even a sip of water? Eliza barely remembered what had happened, unsure of how she had even gotten into the hospital in the first place.

She reached over and shook Julia's shoulder, trying to rouse her once more.

"Five more minutes, mom," Julia moaned, burying her head further into the scratchy material of the hospital blankets.

"Not your mom." Eliza stifled a laugh, a groan of pain taking its place as the slight movement caused her pain.

Julia shot up from the bed, eyes wide as she remembered where she was. She took a moment to let the situation register. Her boss, Eliza, was awake and laughing which was--Oh, God--causing her pain.