Title: And the World watched

Summary: Au. Hamilton was ten when his father left him and his mother.

He was twelve when his mother died. Now a year later he is in America with a whole new life ahead of him.

Not to mention a new family.

Notes: Hello, I know I shouldn't be working on a story

while I have another on process but I couldn't resits making a Hamilton FanFic.

Anyway thanks for stopping by and I hope that you enjoy.

I did mess with the timeline just a little, like with the hurricane he was seventeen

but here he is thirteen. Just roll with it. Do review, and tell me what you think so far.

Chapter 1

Hamilton watched the snowflakes fall from the yellow sky, his whole life was on the floor. His home was nothing but rubble as he watched people that he knew once running and screaming for their love ones. The hurricane not only brought the end of his world, but his home that he has taken shelter was in his feet. He looked up and saw the snowflakes fall on his face, how delicate it felt, like silent tears.

People were ignoring him, strangers were screaming as they dig dead people out of the rubble. He closed his eyes, he took deep breaths, like Mama taught him to. But he found it difficult to. His lungs were burning. His eyes stung, his body shook, he could feel the cold spreading through his body. How long he was paralyze like this? When he watched the yellow sky, people with the white helmets were ushered people away. But he just stood there.

His mother would be angry if he was just being there and not somewhere safe. All of his prize possessions were probably buried down there. So he pulled his sleeves and began to dig like those around him. His cousin was nice, he could help.

No he's dead.

The voice that kept him alive answered back. He knew that. He was smart enough for that. All of his things were washed away, all but one thing. It was a small book that he could fit in his pocket. Inside was a picture of him and his mother. His throat was closing up again. His vision was getting darker, more blurry but he had to keep looking. A small pen, a watch and a ripped photo. This was all he had remaining of his life.

Oh what would his mother say? What would she say when he says that the storm ate their precious possessions were washed away? He shook his head. He needed to be strong, like his Mama said. He needed to keep his head high, and not back down. And like this he could get away from this island and get a good life somewhere better. But he told her that he liked it here, and with her. She just laughed and smiled sadly at him.

He didn't know how long he was there, but his hands and feet were bleeding. But the sky was still yellow, and the snowflakes still fell. He found more. He small backpack that his father gave him. Thinking about it, this was the only thing that he ever gave him, apart from the bruises. He missed his Mama. He wanted to hear her voice, telling him to keep his head up and to be strong.

Then the people came. They were the rescuers that were pulling people away from the rubble, and apparently he was one of them. They kept saying how badly his hands or feet hurt, and he told them the truth.

It didn't hurt.

He was numb. He didn't feel the pain or the blood pushing through his injuries. They tried to force him away from his home and he fought. Like Mama told him if somewhere ever tried to take away his home he should fight tooth and nail. And he kept truth to his word. Even the town's people tried to pry him off the rubble. He was staying firm on his grounds. The yellow sky was getting darker.

They forced him into a truck as they were forced to carry him. He was silent as he was next to others who they too were silent. Some were sobbing, others were praying. He didn't do either.

When they arrived at the camp, they ushered him to a white tent and cared for his wounds. He didn't know how long he was there but eventually he was allowed to roam out. The yellow sky was still there, and the snowflakes were still falling at his face.

For the first time, he couldn't deal with this. He didn't now what to do so he sat down and took out the small journal. He learned that all of the pages were blanked. So he took the pen and began to write. He didn't know what he was writing about, just anything that kept him away from this destruction. He remembered how hid mother praised him whenever he wrote a small poem or a piece of work. And how not many knew how to even read or write like him, and his Mama was a constant reminder of that. The pen meet the paper and he paused for a second. What should he write, he wondered.

So he wrote.

He wrote about his pain, how his home was destroyed how his cousin committed suicide, how his mother died while he lived, how his father left them with nothing but dept. He didn't know that he was causing attention. He was out under the yellow sky armed with nothing but a pen and paper. There was a journalist there. He quickly noticed the small boy hunched over writing in a small journal. He had the same look as the others, but there was something else there. Something more and he quickly snapped a picture.

The town's people began to notice too. They were a very small town, where all they did was work in the field or mountains. All those who knew how to write or even read were either gone or dead. He was neither. He was young, too small but big enough for a future. Word got around and they slowly began to surround the child. They had not seen someone write so fast, so perfect either.

When he lifted his wary eyes up he noticed that the town had his eyes on him. One man stepped up and spoke for them all.

"What's your name kid?" He held his breath for a minute. His name?

"My name is Alexander Hamilton," And he watched the grey snowflakes fell around them.