A/N: So. Now I've become complete Hamilton trash. My history loving ass finally feels at home. I adore these kind of fics, and thought it would be interesting to do my own take on some of the Hamilton character's reactions on the play itself. I know there are many who take these in more of a humorous direction, but I thought I'd keep mine fairly serious, y'know, because I lack a normal sense of humor apparently and live for pain.

Just a note, I've never actually seen Hamilton in it's entirety. I've seen several clips and have friends who have seen it though, so some descriptions will most definitely find their way in alongside song lyrics. I may also include the occasional song that isn't on the official soundtrack or didn't make it in the final show (i.e. the Laurens interlude & Theodosia Reprise etc)

Also, in case anyone questions my dedication to this, my ass just did research on the history of couches for this before I decided screw it.

The room was eerily quiet as the eight people within it attempted to wrap their minds around what they'd just been told. Or rather, what they'd just read. According the papers, far too pristine and uniform and fragile to be anything produced in the Americas, that were clutched in Washington's hand, they were here to watch a production produced in the year 2016, all centered around the life of one Alexander Hamilton.

It was disorienting, nearly terrifying.

One moment everything had been as it should, Alexander and John with arms slung over each other as they reveled in their victory in the duel with Lee while Burr scowled on and Washington approached furiously with Lafayette trailing behind, Eliza and Angelica in New York, listening to their father discuss the last reports from the frontlines, Hercules listening attentively as a group of British troops discussed confidential information while he mended their jackets.

The next moment they were here. In a room without windows or doors, the only objects within a large panel that seemed to take up most of a wall and a sofa in a shape that resembled a horseshoe, with a letter telling them that not only had they won the war, not only had America thrived in its independence, but that a great many of them were seen as heroes, fathers and mothers of the country, enough so that in Alexander's case, an entire play had been created to summarize his life.

There had been moments of panic, of joyful reunion when Eliza had thrown her arms around her husband's neck and Angelica had greeted him similarly, but it didn't take long for an odd sort of calm to settle over them. There was little they could do to change the situation, they all knew it, had all checked.

Eventually, they settled on the sofa, softer than any of them were really used to, which was large enough for them all, surprisingly. Angelica took a place on the right end, Eliza next to her. Alexander settled beside his wife, with John on his other side and Lafayette farther down. Next was Hercules, and a still fuming Burr, who kept a sizable gap between the people on either side of him, Hercules and Washington, who had claimed the other end of the sofa, respectively.

No sooner had they relaxed carefully into their places, than the panel that took up a vast majority of the wall lit up, startling them all.

"How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean by Providence, impoverished, in squalor, grow up to be a hero and a scholar?"

There was a visible jolt through them all as Burr's voice began. Seven pairs of intrigued eyes flicked between the Aaron in their midst and the one that stood alone on a dark stage, illuminated by a single light.

It took Alexander a moment to interpret what was being said, to realize that the 'bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsmen' was referring to him, and while he was used to the low names, it was different with the words coming from Burr's mouth. It stung, and he bristled at the insult to his mother. He (or perhaps Aaron) was saved from a tirade though by Eliza's hand tightening on his own.

A grin spread across nearly every face when, on the stage, John came to stand at Burr's side.

"The ten-dollar Founding Father without a father got a lot farther by workin' a lot harder. By bein' a lot smarter. By bein' a self-starter. By fourteen, they placed him in charge of a trading charter."

Eliza was beaming with pride, even if her smile was a little sad at the reminder of how hard her husband had needed to work to make it as far as he had in his life.

Meanwhile, Washington had latched to a different phrase, brow furrowing. "Fourteen and in charge of a trading charter?" He asked, incredulous. He'd never heard of such a thing, and Hamilton had never mentioned it. Alexander though only shrugged, as though indifferent to the memory.

"I did what I had to."

"And every day while slaves were being slaughtered and carted away across the waves, he struggled and kept his guard up. Inside, he was longing for something to be a part of. The brother was ready to beg, steal, borrow, or barter."

Several quick breaths were drawn in as the form of a man, followed by his own light, strutted across the stage to join the other two. He bore a striking resemblance to Lafayette, though he carried himself differently and when he spoke his voice was devoid of accent. It was disconcerting.

"Is that supposed to be moi?" Lafayette asked no one in particular, and naturally got no answer.

"I can't imagine Hamilton begging for anything, not with his pride." Burr pointed out, in a carefully evened tone, meant to lighten the atmosphere, but Alexander's expression only darkened and he didn't reply, earning Aaron instead reproachful looks from the entirety of the room.

"Then a hurricane came, and devastation reigned. Our man saw his future drip, drippin' down the drain. He put a pencil to his temple, connected it to his brain and he wrote his first refrain, a testament to his pain."

Another man came to join the growing line of people, this one nearly identical to Hercules, who's head cocked to the side at the sight of him.

Eyes still flicked periodically, and completely without subtlety, to Alexander, whose jaw had tightened to the extent that a muscle leapt beneath the skin at mention of the hurricane, and whose hand had returned Eliza's grip in full force. On his left, John clapped a hand to his shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze.

"Well the word got around, they said, "This kid is insane, man!" Took up a collection just to send him to the mainland. 'Get your education, don't forget from whence you came, and the world's gonna know your name! What's your name, man?'"

"Alexander Hamilton."

Alexander found his chin jerking upwards just slightly. He liked to think he'd made the community leaders who had gathered the funds to send him to the colonies proud, though there was a flicker of guild accompanying the knowledge that it hadn't been a priority of his in years. His thoughts on the matter were interrupted though at the appearance of himself, and his friends reaction to it.

From his side, John gave a loud whoop, and was joined by Lafayette and Hercules a moment later, and Hamilton caught himself smiling in response, while Burr rolled his eyes dramatically, and Washington and the Schuylers shared nearly identical exasperated looks at their antics.

"My name is Alexander Hamilton, and there's a million things I haven't done, but just you wait, just you wait."

"When he was ten, his father split, full of it, debt-ridden. Two years later, see Alex and his mother, bed-ridden, half-dead, sittin' in their own sick, the scent thick."

"And Alex got better but his mother went quick."

While Alexander's smile had grown at the sight of his Eliza on the screen, coming to embrace him, his lips twitched downwards at the summation of his childhood. He felt more than saw Burr's eyes boring into him from the other side of the sofa, and ignored it.

"Oh, mon petite lion." Lafayette sighed sympathetically under his breath, quiet enough that he'd hoped no one had heard, though he noticed Hercules nodding just slightly. They knew Alexander to be an orphan, but he'd never discussed with them the circumstances that had led to that status in any amount of detail.

"Moved in with a cousin, the cousin committed suicide, left him with nothin' but ruined pride, somethin' new inside, a voice saying 'Alex you gotta fend for yourself.' He started retreatin' and readin' every treatise on the shelf!"

That was Washington, though outside of a few either ignored or unnoticed glances in his direction the room was still, quiet. It wasn't as though Alexander were ashamed of his origins, in fact he was quite proud of how far he'd risen from them, but it was uncomfortable, and were it not for sheer desire to see the production made in his name, his eyes probably would've squeezed shut for a moment.

"There would've been nothin' left to do for someone less astute."

Alexander smiled then, if thinly. "You think so highly of me, Burr?" He asked, voice light, teasing. Aaron didn't answer, but then he hadn't really expected him to.

"He would've been dead or destitute, without a cent of restitution. Started workin', clerkin' for his late mother's landlord, tradin' sugar cane and rum and other things he can't afford. Scammin' for every book he can get his hands on, plannin' for the future, see him now as he stands on the bow of a ship headed for a new land! In New York you can be a new man!"

Washington found a small grin growing slowly across his face at that. That was what they were fighting the war for, after all, wasn't it? To create a nation where anyone could be free to make something of themselves? It was really no wonder that Alexander was as passionate as he was about their cause, he was the embodiment of their American idea.

"In New York you can be a new man, just you wait. In New York you can be a new man, just you wait. In New York you can be a new man! Alexander Hamilton, we are waiting in the wings for you."

"You could never back down. You never learned to take your time."

Angelica laughed shortly from her end of the couch, shooting Alexander a look. "Great, so you never get over that." She teased without malice.

"Of course not." Washington said, sounding very much like a man who was resigning himself to something great and terrible.

"Oh, Alexander Hamilton, when America sings for you, will they know what you overcame? Will they know you rewrote the game? The world will never be the same!"

The air of confusion and bewilderment in the room was fading, steadily being replaced by a a proud sort of intrigue. Though Alexander would proudly tell anyone who asked what big plans he had and the hero he wanted to become, it was hard to imagine what the general's aide de camp, a boy, still, could do to make him so revered.

Eliza was the only one seemingly unsurprised. Sneaking a glance to the side, her smile only grew. She knew how brilliant her husband was. There wasn't a single doubt in her mind that he would change the world in the most incredible of ways. He caught her looking over at him and his gaze held for a second, a second in which Eliza could feel her heart skitter forward in its pace, before Burr's voice lured their attention back to the screen.

"The ship is in the harbor now, see if you can spot him, another immigrant comin' up from the bottom. His enemies destroyed his rep, America forgot him."

Or perhaps not so revered. Nobody missed the way Alexander seemed to deflate at those words, lips twitching downward and head cocking to side at the contradiction of the fact that he'd apparently both changed the world and been forgotten by it. What sort of life would he come to lead that both could be true?

"We fought with him."

Lafayette and Hercules both jerked forward proudly.

"Oui, of course!"

Their moment of proud celebration was cut off quickly.

"Me? I died for him."

No.

The jubilation was sucked from the room in the span of a second. Alexander's hand found John's forearm, locking in a vice grip that was liable to bruise. John gripped him back, his jaw slackened from shock and eyes widened as involuntary fear at the forced prospect of his mortality that washed through him. Finally he swallowed, shook his head, forced a small laugh.

"It didn't say when I die for Alexander." He pointed out, "I could be an old gray man by then!" The argument was halfhearted and everyone in the room knew it, eyes locked on Laurens with the beginnings of grief in their eyes, like they were already trying to process his death.

Alexander did not let go of John's arm. John didn't pull away, even as one by one, focus returned to the production.

"Me? I trusted him."

George nodded once in agreement with his on stage counterpart. As hotheaded as Hamilton had proven himself to be, he was a good man, or at least tried to be. He trusted him, and something told him that he always would.

As shaken as he still was by the prospect of John's death, Alexander caught sight of the dip of Washington's head and drew himself up the slightest bit in pride. He may be eager, desperate even, for a command of his own, to fight, to die for the country he believed so firmly in, but even then, the man's trust meant a lot.

"Me? I loved him."

Angelica's breath caught in her throat as she saw Eliza, herself, and another woman she didn't know profess their love for Alexander, and her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. No. She couldn't let her secret be revealed, not like this - though, it wasn't as though it seemed she had much of a choice in the matter.

Finally, she chanced a glance at her sister, entirely expecting her to be looking at her with an expression of hurt or anger. Instead, Eliza had turned to look at her husband, who's eyes had gone wide in what could only be described as alarm.

"And me? I'm the damn fool that shot him!"

Everything froze.

"What!?" Several people shouted the word all at once, though Hercules' voice boomed above the others. Aaron's eyes had seemingly grown to the size of dinner plates, expression morphed into one of horror.

"I didn't - No. I wouldn't -" He stammered out, looking at each outraged face in turn before focusing in on Hamilton. "We may not see eye to eye but I wouldn't, Alexander. Not intentionally."

The man in question stared at Burr for a long second, brow furrowed as though he were thinking something through, before he nodded once, as though he'd decided something. "I believe you," he announced, as though that settled everything. And it did, for the most part, even if Hercules noticeably shifted slightly further away from Aaron.

"There's a million things I haven't done, but just you wait..."

"What's your name, man?"

"Alexander Hamilton!"

So. That's that. Favorites, follows, and reviews are always greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think? I know the exposition was really shit but y'know.