"No, I just--I don't know," Burr says, and he doesn't. He feels exposed, and stupid, and vulnerable. He doesn't want to look at Theo, or see her, or think about her. His eyes are watering, as he takes the cup and drains it, anything to buy him more time.

He knows he has to nurse her. That she is his child, that no one else can do it, but he does not want to.

"I'm sorry," he says, through tears. "You can give her back to me," though he does not hold his arms out, turns his body away from them both. Hamilton is good with her, she does well with Hamilton. He likes her, even as she is wailing and screaming, and here he is, having done nothing in bed for days while everyone else rushed to take care of him and he cannot even look at her.