Alexander Hamilton's POV:

I shivered in the rain as I wandered slowly through the cold city streets. I couldn't remember where I was, nor did I know how or why I'd ended up here. All I knew was that I needed to find shelter. For the first time in a long while I longed to be back on the island, where I knew people and there was always a door to knock on where a friend would offer you a night's stay. But I had no friends anymore. I had no one. There was no one left from the island but me. No one cared. All of them were gone. Dead.

The wind picked up. Thunder crashed and lightning split the sky. I doubled over. My head was spinning. My knees went weak. My ears rang with the echoes of the screams. Some small part of me knew that this was only a storm, but the rest of me was locked in a losing battle against memory, trapped inside the lingering memories of another storm entirely. I laughed hysterically, the pain taking over. I no longer had any control over myself. I tilted my face to the sky, opened my mouth wide to scream, and then the world went black.

Martha Washington's POV:

I awoke, startled. A crash broke the night. I then realized that it was only lightning. I had just rolled over to go back to sleep when I heard a much smaller crash, this one right at our doorstep. Quietly, as to not wake George, I climbed out of bed and slipped downstairs. I tiptoed through the hallway to the front door, cautiously opened it, and screamed, " GEORGE!"

A young man of about thirteen or fourteen was collapsed across our doorstep. He was the skinniest boy I'd ever seen. He had dark curly hair and an olive complexion. He could've been mistaken for a homeless teenager taking shelter under our awning, except for the fact that there was a large gash down the side of his head where it must have hit the steps. Blood covered our stairs. I squatted down beside the boy and tried to take his pulse, but my hands were shaking. I screamed for George again.

"Martha! What is it?" He came rushing out, still in his pajamas. He took one look at the boy. "Oh my God. Martha, call an ambulance. We need to get him to the hospital. NOW."

I nodded. "Should I tell Laf we're leaving?"

He shook his head, leaning down to check the boy for a heartbeat. "He'll text us if we're not back when he wakes up. Just call the ambulance."

I hurried inside. I picked up the phone and dialed 911, my fingers trembling. I heard a woman's voice on the other end. "911, what's your emergency?"

"Hi, my name is Martha Washington- Senator George Washington's wife- and there is a teenage boy lying unconscious on our front steps. He appears to have suffered a serious head injury. I have no idea who he is or what happened, but I need an ambulance as soon as possible."

"Yes, I will send an ambulance immediately. What's your address?"

I told her our address and hung up. George came in. "What did they say?"

"An ambulance will be here in a few minutes," I told him. My voice was weak. His brow furrowed momentarily before he pulled me into a hug.

"Hey, it's going to be okay. I have some good news."

"What is it?" I said. I could really use some good news.

He held up a worn black wallet. "I found this in his pocket. His ID was in it. Apparently his name is Alexander Hamilton. He's sixteen."

"Sixteen?" I said, shocked. "He doesn't look a day over fourteen."

George sighed. "Well, I'm no doctor, but it looks to me like he's suffering from malnutrition. I'm going to have one of my guys do a thorough investigation once he wakes up and we can get some more information."

I sighed. "We should get back out there." He nodded, and I quietly followed him outside before sitting on the steps beside Alexander. It was oddly relieving, knowing his name and age. Like he had gone from being a half-dead teenager to a real person who we could help. Gently, I brushed his hair off his face. He had soft childish features, marred by the bleeding gash that ran down the side of his head. He really did look younger than sixteen.

Flashing lights appeared around the corner, tearing my attention away from Alexander. The ambulance pulled up outside of our house. Three men came out, two of them carrying a stretcher, which they used to transport the boy into the vehicle. The third man came up to us.

"Thank you, Senator and Mrs. Washington, for contacting us so quickly. We'll take it from here."

He turned and started to walk away, but George caught up with him, motioning for me to follow. "No, we're coming with him."

"But sir- the protocol- only family-" he began, but he stopped after one icy stare from George. "Yes, sir. If you follow in your car, I'll make sure that you can visit the boy in the hospital."

George started to speak, but his time I cut him off. "His name is Alexander, and we're staying with him." The man looked to George, who nodded firmly.

"Very well." We got into the ambulance. Alexander looked so weak and pale. I shivered, wondering where his family was and how he had ended up passed out and bleeding on our front porch. George squeezed my hand reassuringly. I took a deep breath. We would just have to wait until he woke up.