Alex stared down at his hands, vision blurred red. Blinking a couple of times he focused on his hands stained red with blood. Bruises and cuts decorated his knuckles but that wasn't the source of the blood, no the blood came from a much more sinister source; his boyfriend, John Laurens.

Vision blurred again before refocusing on the metal cuffs circling his wrists, short chain connecting them together, which in turn attached him to the table he sat at.

"… Do it?" One of the police officers in front of him said.

Alex tore his gaze away from his hands to gaze up at the officer who spoke. "Huh?" He responded gracefully. The other officer leant over the table, face twisted into a snarl. "He said, why'd you do it? Did you have a fight? Drugs? Did he cheat on you?"

Alex directed his eyes back to his blood stained hands, mind straining to remember anything that had happened in the past 12 hours. The last thing he remembered before waking up in the back of a police van was lunch today with his friends Hercules, Lafayette and John.

The second officer leaned back and raised an eyebrow at him awaiting a response, when none came he looked book to officer one and indicated it was his turn to talk to the suspect. "Look Alexander, this can be easy or hard for you, just tell us what happened tonight."

Alex looked up tears pooling in his large azure eyes. "I don't know." His voice was choked and cracked halfway through the short sentence. The officers exchanged surprise glances. "What do you mean?" The first officer asked. "I don't remember anything since lunch time." The first tear since this whole debacle begun.

The officers exchanged disbelieving glances. "If you don't remember since lunch time what do you remember?"

"I was at lunch with Hercules Mulligan, Gilbert de Lafayette and John, we had eaten lunch and had left, and… and we were going to go somewhere?" He trailed off into a question unable to recall their destination. "Next thing I know I'm handcuffed in the back of the van and dragged into here."

Tears dripped down his face steadily now. "Please just tell me how John is." Alex begged the two officers.

The first officer signaled the other to leave the room. "Officer Daniels has gone to find out about John. Now tell me Alex, how old are you?"

Alex hesitated before answering "17".

"We need to call your parents." The officer, whose name tag read Matthews, said.

Alex's eyes widened in panic at the thought. "Please you can't." He felt panic welling up inside of him, his current placement was with the best family yet but he hadn't been there long enough to establish enough of a relationship with them to survive a criminal charge against him.

"I'm sorry son,"

"Don't call me son" Interrupted Alex.

"It's the law"

At that point Officer Daniels walked back into the room looking grim. Alex's eyes lit up when he saw Daniels. "What news?" he asked excitedly. Officer Matthews nodded at him to reply.

"John Laurens, aged 17, has suffered severe trauma to his head, neck, and legs, he has suffered an intracranial aneurism and is currently undergoing a craniotomy to repair the damage." He read off a sheet of paper which he tossed down in front of Alexander. Alexander read through the list of injuries; bruises, contusions, one sprained wrist, the other broken, dislocated ankle, a severe concussion, mild internal bleeding, and more beyond.

He stared in horror at the list, unable to believe the damage that had been done to his dearest Laurens. He became aware of the officers talking about his age and not being able to ask more questions until his parents got there. Daniels walked out of the room presumably to call his guardians.

"Your parents will be called and you will be detained in a holding cell until they arrive." Matthews walked around the table and removed the length of chain attaching him to the table leaving his wrists cuffed together.

He was lead out of the room by a hand on his shoulder and led to another room with a row of dark jail cells. Alex felt panic growing inside of him at the tight dark cells. He was lead to the closest one and pushed in, the barred doors locked behind him. He was told to put his hands near the bars and Mathews unlocked his cuffs.

"Don't worry, this is just temporary, until your family arrives." With that Mathews turned around and left.

Alex looked around the tiny cell rubbing at his raw wrists. The cell had nothing but a tiny cot bolted to the ground and a toilet and sink in the corner. Sitting on the cot he stared at his hands still coated in dry blood. They had already taken samples of blood from under his nails and off his palms.

Standing up, he went over to the tiny sink, turned it on and attempted to wash the blood off, the water ran red but his hands were still stained with it. Giving up, he sat back on the cot and buried his head in his hands, dread building up inside him. His foster parents would be arriving and a million questions raced through his mind. Would they believe that he was innocent? Would they want nothing to do with him? Would they hate him?

He had only been in America a few years originating from Nevis, Caribbean. In those few years since then he had stayed with 14 different foster homes before coming to his latest one, the best so far.

He had been with them for three months now, he met John through his family's other foster child. After a month of skating around their feelings for each other John finally worked up the courage to ask him out, which of course he said yes to. Two months later they were as happy as ever, but now John was lying dying in a hospital bed and he was locked in a jail cell accused of his assault.

After what felt like an eternity, Alex became aware of footsteps approaching his cell. Mathews and Daniels were approaching his cell both looking grim. "Alright come to the bars and turn around Daniels snapped pulling out a set of cuffs. Sighing resignedly Alex walked the short distance to the bars before turning and putting his hands through the hole designed for this purpose.

Once the cold metal was securely attached around his wrists the door opened, and he was yanked roughly from the cell by Daniels. "Come on scum your foster parents are here"

With every step they took towards what he assumed to be the interrogation room dread grew in his stomach. This would be the moment when the closest thing he's had to a family since his mother died, abandons him.

They lead him back into the same interrogation room as before, at least it looked the same, although they could just be identical. Sitting where the cops were previously, were his foster parents, Mr. and Mrs. Washington faces serious and drawn, they were holding hands under the table and eyes snapped up to them when they entered.

Alex stilled in the doorway eyes locked on the ground unable to look at them. "Sit down." Spat Daniels shoving him towards the empty seat. If he had been looking he would have seen the look of rage the flashed across his foster father's face.

Sitting down, his hands were unlocked and re-chained in front of him to the loop in the table. Alex remained staring down at his hands still streaked with blood.

He knew he was a bad sight to see. Skin and clothes spotted with dirt and blood, hair falling out of his bun and clothing ripped.

"We are obligated to leave you alone for a short time period to sort out a lawyer and other such things." Mathews stated before walking out Daniels following him.

They sat in silence before one of them finally spoke. "Alex, are you ok?" Martha Washington asked reaching out to brush his hair off his face but Alex flinched away as if stung. "Tell us what happened son?" George asked carefully.

Alex looked up at them for the first time eyes wide and scared. "I don't know I can't remember anything but I would never do this, I love John you have to believe me." He kept rambling talking a mile a minute before George carefully grabbed his hands.

"Shh, Alex it's ok we believe you, we see the way you look at John we will get this sorted out." Alex looked at him disbelievingly. "You believe me?" He asked in a whisper.

"Of course." Martha replied "We will always be on your side." Alex blinked away tears a small smile spreading over his face. "Are you injured? Have they been treating you alright?" Martha asked concerned. "I'm ok," Alex replied. "I'm more worried about John, do you have any news?"

George and Martha exchanged concerned looks, seemingly having a silent conversation. "Son, John is out of surgery but is in a coma, his chances of walking up are slim." Alex stared at them in silence before a sob rose up in his throat spilling out over his lips while large tears rolled down his eyes.

"Am I going to jail?" Alex asked in a small voice that cracked. "We will get a lawyer, the best money can get and we will do everything possible to see you released." Washington said reassuringly. "What about bail?"

"None has been set yet but once we get through court in the next few days we will pay bail and bring you home." Alex smiled at that. "Home sounds wonderful." Alex smiled referring to the Washingtons' estate as home for the first time.

Martha wrapped her arms around Alex the best she could across the table. "We are going to get through this as a family, you brother Lafayette doesn't believe that you could do this either, I wish I could understand French because he was talking faster than you when he heard."

Alex smiled at this. "Where is Laf?"

"At the hospital with John and Hercules since he couldn't be here." George responded.

At the moment the door opened and the same officers as before walked in. "Alright times up, a court date for bail has been set for May 17 at 9:00 am." That was in two days' time meaning he would have to spend the next couple of nights in a holding cell.

"Please Dad, get me out of here." He looked pleadingly as his hands were removed from the table and secured from behind him again.

"Don't worry son we will get this sorted out." George said a tear leaking from his eyes at Alexander finally calling him dad. He only wished that it was under better circumstances.

Alex was lead back to the holding cell he was in previously, hands unchained and locked in, left there to sit and dwell on his thoughts, and dwell he did. His boyfriend was in a coma and all the evidence pointed to it being Alex's fault.

Alex still couldn't recall anything after lunch, was he drugged? Knocked unconscious and framed or was it some sort of psychotic breakdown? Could it be possible that Alex had actually done it?

Lying down on the thin cot feeling at least three different springs digging into his back, he lay there and with uneasy thoughts drifted off to sleep.