I'm back. This was completely unprecedented but a reader gave me the idea so here it is. Enjoy!

Alexander opened his eyes.

Which was strange, because when he'd closed them he'd been laying on a bed, with his dearest Eliza and Angelica by his side, a bullet in his ribs from the duel with Burr. He's still laying on his back. But now it's all faded away, all to blinding white light. No pain, no blood. There's absolutely nothing, in fact. All is calm, white light.

Except….a lone shape is emerging from the brightness. A small dark shadow that grows larger as it approaches, taking on form and color. As it gets closer, Alexander's breath catches in his throat.

It's Washington.

Not the old man he was at the time of his death, but the stern and commanding war general, dressed in black, looking neat and dignified. And he's clearly heading in Alexander's direction.

Remembering the man's firm aversion to dueling, and the manner of his demise, Alexander swallows, stands up, and smooths down his own black clothing. Just in time for Washington to reach him.

"Hamilton!" Washington is smiling, which is something he didn't do often when he was alive. But now he takes Alexander by the shoulders and holds him an arm's length away, examining him. A sigh escapes his lips when he sees the faint stain on the fabric where he was shot, but it's quickly replaced by a fond look. "You look like you're twenty-one again." Alexander remembers being twenty-one. He remembers the war, the long nights of endless writing, the camaraderie he found in Laurens, Mulligan, and Lafayette.

Washington folds him abruptly into his arms. For a moment, Alexander is stiff in the embrace, but it's somehow soothing and he allows himself to lean against the older man and return the hug. "I missed you, my boy." The former President smiles again. "I missed you as well, sir."

"How dare you duel with Burr. Have you lost your mind?" Washington's voice has slipped back into the commander's tone, as though reprimanding a foolish subordinate. Though he hasn't let go of Alexander. "What on earth were you thinking, young man? You've got some explaining to do."

"I-I'm sorry, sir."

"I know, son. I know. Hush. No more talking. It's been five years. I missed you." The man pulls Alexander closer. Unwilling to let go, it seemed.

"However, I am still absolutely furious with your behavior. You should have lived for many more years, should have had many more disagreements with Mr. Jefferson, should have had the chance to retire with your wife. I know that it wasn't all your fault," he added, when Alexander opened his mouth to protest. "I am just sorry to see your life cut short."

Washington rubs gentle circles on Alexander's back, chin resting atop his head. Alexander breaths a soft sigh, ruffling the other man's cravat. "F-father. Father. Father I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't mean to disappoint you."

"My dear boy, I have always been so proud of you. So, so proud. When I met you, you were young, loud, and rash. Granted, you are still loud and rash." Washington chuckled. "But Alexander, I promised that I'd be around for you. It's been a pleasure to watch you and be with you through your life, son. I love you very much." Washington smiled down at his adopted son.

Alexander had buried his face in the older man's coat during his speech. Now, he lifted his head enough to look into Washington's eyes. "I-I love you too, Father." Tears pricked slightly at the corners of his eyes.

"My dear boy." Washington ruffled his hair and slung an arm around his shoulders. "I'm afraid we must get going; Laurens misses you very much. So does your son. My grandson." The former President's eyes lit up with happiness. Alexander laughed, long and loud, and let his father lead him off to greet his old friends and family.

MMMMMMMMMM. I cried while writing this. I'm sorry. I hope you guys enjoyed that. ~RedCoatsRedder