A/N: I recently read "Rise Up" by ohNooOOOOoo and became intrigued by the idea of a modern day Alexander coming to the United States and being thrust into the foster system. In doing so, this came about. I do not have a medical degree, so I apologize for any medical inaccuracies that may come about during this. Furthermore, I have never visited the Caribbean. Yes, I am aware that Hamilton himself was born on Nevis, not Puerto Rico, but for the sake of the plot, I altered it slightly.

"You'll be back! Time will tell."

Alex shrunk against the side of the car, shivering at the harsh words echoing from the doorway. His foster father, well his former foster father, George, leaned against the doorframe, the bruise a stark contrast against his otherwise pale face. Alex's sides and face ached with their own bruises. This time had gone too far. It was just too much. Everything had been too much. His whole damn life…

"Mr. King?" Alex's caseworker, Mr. Seabury, greeted as he finally stepped out of the car. Alex bit his lip, drawing blood from the small cuts that littered the flesh there. The man never took up for him; never noticed how his recent fosters treated him. No one ever did. Not back at home after his cousin's death, and not here in the states.

"Samuel," George returned.

Samuel walked around the car and placed a hand firmly on Alex's thin shoulder, causing the boy to flinch at the touch. Samuel either ignored him or didn't notice. Alex could never tell with the man. Regardless, he knew Seabury saw him as a huge inconvenience. That's all he'd been since the Red Cross workers pushed to bring him to Florida after the hurricane. No one truly cared.

"I'm sorry to see each other under such circumstances," Samuel stated.

"Well, I knew the risks when I took him in," George sighed. "Given his upbringing." Alex bit into his lip harder; fighting would get him nowhere right now. "Anyway, what comes next?"

"Special placement." Seabury pushed his glasses up on his face. Alex bristled at the words. "Given his recent difficulties and extensive health problems, we've been granted permission to break the rules and allow him to leave the state. A couple in Virginia –some politician and his wife –agreed to take him in."

"Virginia politicians?" George rubbed his chin as if he was actually thinking. Alex knew he wasn't. He could tell by the fake smile on his face. "Oh you must mean the Washington's! Old friends of my father's, you know! Heard they were turning into a little home for wayward wards." He smiled down at Alex for a moment, sending another shiver down the teen's spine. "Well, awesome, wow! Aren't you lucky! They'll straighten you out for sure." He ruffled Alex's hair, leaning in close to the boy's ear. "When they say they hate you, don't come crawling back to me."

Alex pushed himself away, slamming his back into the car. He struggled to breath for a moment, nothing new but frustrating all the same. He wanted away, but knew he couldn't make it far. He chest already felt tight and sore, just as it had for the past few weeks. He wouldn't make it past the end of the block.

"Well, we best be off, Alexander," Seabury finally ordered. "We have a train to catch."

Alex glanced at Mr. King one last time before climbing into the passenger's seat. He clutched his worn messenger bag tightly to his aching chest. There wasn't much in it. A few books and journals sandwiched between a few days' worth of clothing. Nothing much. Definitely not enough for Virginia's weather this time of year.

"Alex, I'm taking you to the train station and handing you over to the staff. They will take over your care at that time, and you and I will no longer be associated, understood?"

"Yes," Alex mumbled, relieved to be rid of the useless man beside him. Since first meeting the man in the hospital four months ago, Alex knew Seabury wanted rid of him. His case was complicated, he would never doubt that. A bastard immigrant from the Caribbean with a heart condition brought to the US for aid by Red Cross workers following a Hurricane? Yeah, he knew that was bound to draw media attention if things went to shit. It was the makings of one of those damn lifetime movies Mrs. King watched all day in her room over while George reigned over the rest of the house with his iron fist.

Seabury may not have been the smartest of men, but he knew that Alex would draw attention if he weren't careful. It could be a mess. Hell, it should be a mess now with everything the Kings had put him through. Alex had no doubt that that was exactly why the state had agreed to ship him off without much fuss. No one wanted a powder keg on his or her hands.

"Alex?" Seabury huffed. "Are you listening to me?"

"Of course, sir," Alex lied, leaning back in the car seat. He settled in for what he assumed would be a fairly hellish journey. He could only hope that the end result would prove less damning.

xxxxxxxx

They could no longer see their coffee table for all the papers and pictures covering it. Seabury's office in Florida had emailed everything that had on one Alexander Hamilton, age 15. Every traumatic detail of the boy's life lay out before them.

"George," Martha gasped as she picked up the most recent photo of Alex. It showed a thin, sickly child in a hospital bed. He managed to muster up a sad smile for the camera, but it was obvious that it was forced. His face was pale and drawn, his body gaunt.

"I know, sweetheart," George replied, squeezing her hand. He picked up some papers with the other and began to read softly. "Alexander Hamilton, born in Puerto Rico to Rachel Fawcett, deceased, and James Hamilton, location unknown. Currently, age 15, weighing in at 105 pounds and height of five foot three."

"He's so small," Martha added.

"Not surprising." George laid the papers back onto the table and massaged his scalp. "From what I can gather, the boy's father left shortly after his birth. He was never married to Alex's mother. Rachel worked as a housekeeper for various businessmen on the island, meeting James at one such job. She continued to work, hiding her pregnancy as much as possible and receiving little by way of medical care. From the meager medical records of his childhood, it doesn't appear as if she was able to afford healthcare after he was born either."

"But you said he had a heart defect, correct?" Martha removed her hand from her husband's and began to rub his back as he summarized Alex's history for her.

"Atrial septal defect…that was likely present at birth. Remained undetected until the boy was twelve and contracted a rather severe case of pneumonia alongside his mother. According to what Alex has told social services, his mother forwent treatment for herself in order to try to provide for Alex. Despite this, she was unable to afford surgeries to repair the hole in the heart and instead could only obtain medications to treat symptoms and the pneumonia. She herself continued to worsen and died from complications soon after."

"God," Martha gasped.

"Alex moved to his cousin's small house for a few months where his health continued to decline and medications became more scarce. Everything culminated in the cousin committing suicide a few months after Alex moved in. Social services on the island stepped in at that point and he became their ward. Looks like he was placed in an emergency foster home."

"Why do I have a feeling that things continued to worsen?"

George sighed deeply, massaging his forehead as a headache began to form. "Because it did. A hurricane hit the island a few months later. Alex's foster siblings and father perished in the flooding, but Alex survived. Solely because his foster parents locked him in the attic space that the mother tried to claim was his bedroom after the fact. Emergency services and Red Cross workers found him barely alive in the small space. Doctors checked him over and found the heart condition….they heard the heart murmur that accompanies it. Alex was given medical attention and apparently regained consciousness after a day in the emergency center. The workers became quite taken with him and his story, so much so that the director convinced the Florida government to allow Alex entrance into the states for treatment and assistance. He was provided the surgeries and treatments he required a few weeks after his arrival. He spent time in a Miami hospital before being placed in a small group home and then ultimately the Kings' foster home."

"The Kings? Any relation to that wretched man you used to work under when you first joined the military?"

"His youngest son I'm afraid. Appears to take after his father in terms of personality." George handed Martha another photo where Alex sported a set of bruises along his jaw and a split lip.

"This poor child."

"Seabury does not believe that King was abusing Alex."

"But—"

"I know, sweetheart," George continued. "I didn't say I am agreeing with the findings. Seabury stated that King told social services that Alex became violent towards himself and his wife. That the bruises and cuts were purely self defense and Alex fighting him back."

Martha stood and began to pace. "This boy…"

George stood and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. "We'll help him. We'll make sure he is healthy and safe."

"I know." Martha pulled away. "I'm just glad that the idiot Seabury thought to call in favors with people who know us."

"Mmm," Martha agreed. "Good things happen when your former acquaintances call in favors regarding supposedly troubled boys."

George laughed. "Very true. Now to inform our boy of his new housemate."

No sooner had George spoken, the front door clicked open. A blur of curls rushed past the Washingtons, headed towards the stairs with a quick greeting thrown out along the way. George half laughed, half sighed at his young ward's antics as he jumped up to stop the boy.

"Lafayette," George called, "can you spare a moment? We need to talk to you before you go upstairs, please."

"Oui?"

George wrapped an arm around the taller boy's shoulders. "How was the movie? Did both Herc and John get to go?"

"It was good. Plenty of explosions to appease Herc and just enough plot for John and I," he replied as George steered him towards the den. Lafayette's eyes appeared to fall on the mess of files across the table. "What is going on?"

"Hello, baby," Martha greeted. She placed the pictures she had been holding back into the file folders, here eyes misty with unshed tears.

"Guys, you are scaring me. What's wrong?"

"Laf, please sit down," George gently ordered.

"Yeah, sure." Lafaette followed orders, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Now will you tell me what is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, son," George stated.

"But we need to talk to you about a change that is going to occur," Martha added.

"Yes," George continued. "An old acquaintance of mine from Florida called in a favor this morning. He has a boy, about your age, in need of emergency housing."

Lafayette's brow furrowed. "You mean like me?"

"Not quite, sweetheart," Martha replied. "You see, this boy doesn't have a family."

"An orphan?" Lafayette asked.

"Yes," George answered. "He's from Puerto Rico and hasn't been in the states for long. But he's not had an easy go of things. He has some health problems and not been placed in the best of situations since arriving."

Lafayette noticed the pictures on the table. "Merde," he cursed, fingering the edges of the images, eyes trained on the bruised face staring up at him.

"Laf? Son?"

"Huh? Oh…sorry, George."

George squeezed his shoulder. "No need for apologies. I simply asked if you were okay with this new arrangement? Alex, the boy we are talking about, will be our foster son for the foreseeable future. He needs a safe place and help. This is his shot at that. Are you okay with this?"

Lafayette looked back at the photos and nodded his head. "Oui. Of course."

George sighed in relief, clapping the boy on the back. "Good man."

Martha pulled Lafayette away, the two talking a hundred miles a minute about everything they needed to do to prepare for Alex's arrival. George could hear them discussing clothes and shopping and decorating of rooms—George couldn't help but smile. But as soon as his eyes caught a glimpse of the photos again, he knew it wouldn't be that simple. They had a long road ahead of them.

xxxxxxx

Alex woke with a pounding headache as the train came to a halt. He was getting used to the pain. Between his head and sore muscles, he was getting used to it. He blinked around at his surroundings, trying to gain focus.

"Sweetheart?"

Alex startled at the voice despite its soft tone. "I'm sorry," he quickly apologized.

She smiled at him. "We have reached your destination, sweetheart." Alex sat up straighter and peered out the window, noticing the station and the people running around the pavement by the tracks. "I have been asked to make sure you make it to your family. Can you follow me?"

Alex bit his lip at the word family, but nodded nonetheless. He didn't have a family. That word hadn't applied to him in a long time. She didn't need to know that though. Knowing that, brought pity. He didn't want pity. So he followed. He kept his mouth shut. Kept quiet, suppressing the slight groans of pain that threatened to escape as his sore body was forced to move.

"Watch your step, dear," the lady cautioned as they stepped off the train and onto the platform. "Right this way now. Your family should be over this way somewhere. If you see them, just let me know."

Alex nodded again. He had no idea what these new people, the Washington's he reminded himself, actually looked like. He scanned the crowd nonetheless. He figured it would be hopeless, yet his eyes soon landed on a brightly colored sign baring his name. He allowed his gaze to follow up towards the person holding the sign. He took in the sight of a boy around his age. He had what looked like a mess of curly hair pulled back into a bun. He wore patterned black and white pants with a brightly colored band t-shirt and purple jacket. Alexander had not been expected this.

"Um, I think I see them," he stuttered and pointed towards the other boy.

The lady laughed. "It looks that way. I—"

"Thank you for the help," he interrupted. "But I think I can manage from here, ma'am." He smiled politely, hoping she would take her leave.

She looked between Alex and the boy, her brows knit, before finally nodding for him to walk over. Alex could feel her eyes on him as he turned away from her. There was no chance of running. Hell, even if he wanted to, he couldn't. His chest ached, reminding him he wouldn't make it far. He inwardly cursed his body, the same body that was supposed to be fine by now. Granted, nothing ever seemed to go the way they were supposed to for Alex.

He sighed and walked towards the boy with the sign. He shoulders slumped with each step. He couldn't muster the energy to appear stoic. Not after spending the last two days on a damn train. His feet shuffled forward, the exhaustion weighing him down.

"Alexander?" the boy greeted once he noticed Alex walking closer. His voice was thick with a French accent, something Alex had not expected either. He nodded in response, finally standing next to the boy. "Fantastique! I am Lafayette. George and Martha wanted to be here to greet you, but were unable to get away from work on such short notice."

"Ok," Alex stated, unsure what to make of the boy in front of him.

"Not that I mind," Lafayette continued. "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance and be at your service!" He bowed to Alex. "Do you need to get any bags or anything?"

Alex blushed. "I only have my backpack."

"Here," Lafayette reached over and removed it from Alex's hands. "Let me." Alex wanted to protest, but refrained for the moment. "My car is just outside. Martha, she requested that I stop by the store and have you pick up a few necessities on the way home. If you feel up to it."

Alex nodded, despite the growing exhaustion sweeping over him. He started to follow Lafayette to the car. He remained quiet for the majority of the walk, but curiosity soon won out. "Are you the Washington's…"

"Ward…basically," Lafayette supplied. "My parents, well my papa mainly, are old friends of George's. Papa works for the American Embassy in France. They met during some political event of some form or another. They travel a lot. My parents I mean. So I was in boarding school in France. It was, well, a disaster to put it simply." Lafayette laughed as he gently steered Alex towards the car. "I managed to piss off the headmaster of not one, not two, but three schools over the course of the last three years. Papa sent me here for school after that and asked the Washington's to be my legal guardians while I attend American high school." He shrugged and slid into the car. Alex followed suit.

"Oh," Alex stated, suppressing a yawn in the progress. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be, mon ami. The Washington's are wonderful. I've seen more of them in the last two years that I've lived with them than I did my parents." Lafayette started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. "Enough about me. How are you, Alex?"

"I'm fine," he lied.

Lafayette smiled and shook his head. "I feel that is less than true." He stopped at a nearby red light and looked Alex up and down, causing him to squirm under the scrutiny. "You look exhausted, mon cher."

"I'm fi—"

"Saying it twice does not make it true." Lafayette kept his voice gentle. "Look, Alex, I do not mean to pry. I know that we have just met and you have to be a tad, how you say, overwhelmed at all of this. And, given that bruise I can see around your face, I'm going to bet that there are more of those, no?"

Alex bit his lip and looked out the window.

"I'm sorry. Again, I do not mean to be harsh. That is the last thing I want to be towards you."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Would make you the first." He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"I am sorry to hear that, mon ami, and promise you that I will not be the only one to care. The Washington's, they are good. They will care."

Alex didn't respond. He went back to looking out the window, silently processing what the other boy had just said.

"Alex? Can you please tell me how you really feel?"

Alex sighed, inwardly debating how to respond. Lafayette seemed genuine, but so had others in the past. He was exhausted, and honestly felt sick. "I'm tired," he relented. "I was on trains for the last two days to get here."

"Damn, that's insane. They should have given you a plane ticket. Merde. Who the hell sticks a person on a train for two days worth of traveling?"

"Fucking Seabury," Alex replied without thinking.

Lafayette snorted. "He sounds like a piece of work."

"A dog speaks more eloquently."

Lafayette laughed loudly at that, causing Alex to finally laugh a little. Unfortunately, the laughter turned into a minor coughing fit.

"Oh, that does not sound good. Alex? Are you okay?"

Alex swallowed and did his best to suppress more coughs. "Yeah." He coughed slightly again, but less violently than before. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, but I think I better get you home. I don't think shopping is in the cards for you today. We will make do! I can text Martha to stop and pick up some things for you."

"I'm sorry," Alex stated again, slumping in the car seat.

"Really, Alex, it's fine. Martha won't mind. And there is no need for you to be out in the cold with that cough. We'll get you home. I can show you around and then you can get some rest in your room. Martha changed the sheets and freshened up earlier, though I believe George forgot to remove the old law books he had been keeping on the bookcase in there. We can always change things for you later though! Oh, and we should have cough syrup in the cabinet if you would like."

Alex's head swam with the new information. He would have a room all to his own? With legal books on the shelves? And medicine? He didn't know what to think of it all. The confusion became even worse once they pulled up in front of a large estate. The house was nothing short of incredible, both inside and out. Alex didn't know where to look or what to say as Lafayette took him on an abbreviated tour of the house. However, the other boy must have taken Alex's silence as a sign of his exhaustion and illness. Before Alex knew it, Lafayette was guiding him to a bedroom and shoving cough medicine into his hands.

"Feel better, mon ami. I will come for you at dinner." With that, Lafayette took his leave.

Alex blinked at the spacious room, trying to take it all in. His head felt like it was about to explode once again and his chest twinged from the cough. His body ached to explore the new space, to see where he could hide his journals, and where he could hide himself if things took a turn for the worse. But his body ached more from the long journey. Before he could even consider his options, he found himself curling up on top of the comforter in the bedroom. He shouldn't get comfortable. Nothing good would come from it.

But for now, it looked like he had little choice. His eyes grew heavy and his body betrayed him once more, sleep pulling him under at long last.