It was 2016 and, let's be honest, the political situation was more of a "shituation" that anything else. The bipartisan structure that had so long been the arena of American politics had split into miniscule factions, leaving dozens of small groups bickering amongst themselves over even the most remote issues. Getting 27% of votes was considered a "landslide." Things were bleak.

Enter: One Alexander Hamilton & Co.

Hamilton was a Federalist, but that hardly mattered. He was a seventeen year-old immigrant orphan, stealing away to the library whenever he could lay his hands on an extended curfew pass. They were few and far between. Still, Hamilton continued on with his self-taught course of study. He analyzed the political policies of surrounding nations, of past civilizations, and theories come up with by the best and the brightest. He dreamed of going to a good school and studying political science…maybe even ultimately becoming the answer to the calamity encompassing the country.

But he was an orphan with $0 to his name and 0 acquaintances to his reputation. The chances of any of this happening were very slim.

These thoughts haunted him as he made his daily journey from his terrible foster home with the Stevens to his terrible high school. His second-hand textbooks knocked around in his backpack, causing his already terrible posture to worsen.

As this precocious young man allowed himself to dwell on his thoughts, ignoring everything around him, he fell victim to a catastrophe that was to be expected - he ran into another man walking down the street. Judging by his clothes, his grooming, and his expensive phone, this man was well to-do. Such a social blunder surely would not do Alexander any favors.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled, casting his eyes downward. When he did, he couldn't help but notice the book the man was holding at his side. Alexander's demeanor suddenly became sunny without him even realizing it. "Is that Thomas Payne's new book?"

He didn't bother trying to hide his excitement.

The man looked at him with the same pleasantly astonished look that all of his teachers afforded him at school.

"Have you read his other works?" The man asked, his tone kind.

Alexander shook his head vigorously. "All of them. I've written reviews in my school's paper. No one really reads them, of course, but I'm sure they're still online. Not that you'd want to read a high school review of any of Payne's books when you've actually read them, but -"

"High school?" The man echoed. He laughed. "You're so young! What're you doing reading Thomas Payne?"

Alexander never understood why his age seemed to be such an important factor to adults when he was trying to discuss interesting things. His eyebrows knit together and his lips tightened into a straight line. "It's the only way to find footing in the political climate right now. I might not be able to vote yet, but I want to be ready when I do."

The man cocked his head to the side with another laugh. "Who are you?"

"Alexander Hamilton."

"Hamilton." The man mused thoughtfully. "I don't think I've heard the name before. What do your parents do?"

"Oh, uh," Alexander looked down at the ground, embarrassed. "They're…not around."

"Oh?" The man didn't seem to understand but didn't know how to ask.

"My mother died a few years ago…" Alexander shrugged, not wanting to reveal that, though his mother had fought with every fiber of her being to remain with her two sons, his father had left them on his own free will.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Alexander." The man said respectfully. "Are you staying with relatives now?"

"The Stevens." Alexander admitted reluctantly.

"The Stevens?" The man seemed surprised. "I know their son, Edward, but…unless…are you…?"

"They're my foster parents. For now." Alexander did not like the way that this conversation was guided, especially because he was so particularly disposed towards the kind man he'd met on the street.

"Really?" The man couldn't seem to believe it.

"Really." Alexander's face reddened.

"That's…" The man shook his head, clearing himself of disbelief, evidently. "No, that's wonderful. The Stevens are wonderful people and Edward is a bright young man. I'm sure you're very well suited together."

Alexander nodded. The man was starting to pity him. He didn't want to be pitied. "Anyway, I have school. I'm running late as it is. It was nice meeting you."

And with that, he escaped the sympathetic smile of yet another stranger.


"Alexander!" Edward was already at school. Edward was always at school earlier than Alexander. His mother gave him a ride to school on her way to work. She never offered to take Alexander, too. Alexander had too much pride to ask. Edward knew better than to interfere. It didn't make Alexander like him any less.

Alexander grinned. "Edward. Did you finish your paper on time?"

Edward wrinkled his nose. He was a much slower writer than Alexander. "Barely. It's not very good. Dare I ask how much you've written this morning alone?"

"Not as much as I should have." Alexander answered with a grin that suggested otherwise. "Are you walking home today?"

Edward shook his head with an apologetic smile. He was always so affable. "Soccer practice."

"Right." Alexander grimaced. "Well, okay. Then I guess I'll see you at dinner."

"Yeah, probably." Edward agreed. He didn't sound like he meant it. He probably didn't. He was a few months older than Alexander - meriting a whole grade level ahead - and surpassed Alexander's popularity by far. He wasn't worried about the political landscape of the world, nor was he concerned about the economic turmoil following the student loan crisis. He was worried about parties and girls and everyone liked him better for it. He was handsome, charming, and always knew how to talk to people. He undoubtedly had a date that weekend.

"Alexander!" Hercules Mulligan - Alexander's best friend - called from down the hallway. Class was about to begin and Alexander couldn't be late. The teacher, Dr. Cooper, disliked him enough as it was.

Alexander turned to look at Edward one last time. Edward smiled warmly.

"See you." He said, nodding at Alexander before walking towards his own classroom.

"So, Hammie," Hercules said conversationally. Alexander looked over, already grinning. "What are your weekend plans?"

"The library." Alexander answered automatically. His answer was already the same.

"With Laurens?"

John Laurens was Alexander and Hercules' mutual friend. Lately, Alexander had developed a devotion to Laurens that exceeded the normal bounds of friendship. As Alexander's best friend, Hercules recognized the signs of affection almost immediately. Alexander was hardly secretive when he harbored such feelings. And, as Alexander's best friend, Hercules knew that it was his duty to tease Alexander about those feelings.

"Probably." Alexander didn't mind. He knew that Hercules' teasing was all good-natured. Hercules liked both Alexander and John, and couldn't have been less concerned with their involvement.

"Any good books on the itinerary?"

"Thomas Payne's newest, probably."

"Hm." The two boys slid into their desks next to each other. "I've heard good things about it. Would you mind me dropping by at some point? I don't want to interrupt anything, of course, but,"

Alexander rolled his eyes. "You won't be interrupting anything, Mull. We're just reading."

"For now." Hercules teased.

Alexander rolled his eyes and turned to face the front of the classroom, his lips twisting into a reluctant smile.


"You sure you don't want to hang out at the shop for a little while? We don't have that many fittings scheduled, and we could work on our article for the paper about the presidential rallies in town." Hercules suggested as he and Alexander walked home. Hercules worked at a tailor's shop after school to save up for college.

"No, I'm meeting Laurens at the library." Alexander declined, shaking his head.

"Ooh," Hercules teased with a goofy grin. "Hammie and Laurens sitting in a tree -"

"Oh, shut up!" Alexander couldn't help but laugh. "We're working on French homework together. Apparently we're getting a French foreign exchange student soon, and I want to be able to talk to him about the rise of xenophobia in Europe."

"Studying French, eh? Oo-la-la!" Hercules blew a kiss in Alexander's direction. Alexander rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress another laugh.

"Go to work. You're going to be late."

Hercules glanced down at his watch. Despite his jolly nature, his work ethic was something to be admired. He was never late for school, never late for work, and neither his homework nor his alterations suffered as a result of him juggling the two.

"Okay. Call me later, though, alright? We need to work out the outline for that article." Hercules said. His serious tone conflicted with the playful expression that was constantly on his face.

"You got it." Alexander agreed readily. He enjoyed talking about politics with Hercules. They almost always agreed. "And don't forget to hem a few skirts just a little too much, alright?"

Hercules laughed. "Just for you, Hammie."


When Alexander arrived at the library, he found John sitting towards the back of the library. A stack of books were already accumulated by his feet.

"Don't tell me that you skipped class again." Alexander said, shrugging off his backpack and tossing it by the chair nearest to John.

John's baby blue eyes flicked up from the book to meet Alexander's own lavender eyes. A roguish smile graced his features.

Though the two had very similar opinions, Alexander and John were very different in composition. While Alexander remained in foster care and had very limited resources, John possessed all of the resources in the world. His father was a member of Congress and was constantly making use of his connections for John's benefit. John attended a private school just down the street from Alexander's public high school. He was handed internships at the most influential offices. He almost always skipped out on them in favor of skulking around the library or causing trouble at political rallies. He kept company with obscure figures of society, he smoked and drank more than any sixteen year-old ought to, and he opposed nearly everything just for the hell of it. It was hard not to like him solely for the novelty of it all.

"I've learned more from reading these books than I've learned all year in those stuffy classrooms." John answered, digging through his jacket pocket and procuring a pack of cigarettes. He placed a cigarette between his lips and fumbled around for his lighter.

"The point of those stuffy classrooms isn't to teach you anything very important," Alexander protested, plucking the cigarette from between John's lips. "It's to give you connections for the future. You know you can't smoke in here. It'll ruin the books."

"I know, I know." John agreed reluctantly. Alexander didn't know what he was agreeing to, exactly. "But it's so difficult to sit there when none of it matters. I feel like I could be doing so much more, you know? Well, of course you know." He carried on as though Alexander had already agreed. "You're smarter than all of us put together. It's got to be killing you."

"You're smart, Laurens." Alexander reminded him, his face reddening just a little.

"I know." John agreed easily. "But you're smarter. And you're more qualified than me for every job my dad throws my way. You know, I tell him every time that he ought to try you. I don't know what's stopping him."

"I think I have a hunch." Alexander replied, rolling his eyes. It was obvious. He was a nobody. He hadn't proven himself. Not yet, anyway.

John let out a frustrated sigh and reached for another cigarette. After meeting Alexander's disapproving stare, he tapped his fingers on his kneecap and sighed again. "But that's ridiculous, isn't it? It shouldn't matter who you know, or who knows someone you know. It should only matter what you can do. We've got to change it. We've got to."

"And we will." Alexander assured him, covering John's jittery hand with his own. "But in order to do that, we've got to fight this from the inside. That means you have to start going to class."

"Why do I have to be the martyr?" John asked with a wry grin.

"Oh, not the martyr." Alexander assured him, patting his hand. "Dying is easy. Living is harder."

John rolled his eyes. "You're a cliché, Alexander."

Dinner company tonight 6. Either be home or do not come home until dinner has ended.

Alexander frowned at the text sent by Mr. Stevens. The tone wasn't cruel, necessarily, but it wasn't too inviting either. Still, he needed to eat and he couldn't afford to eat anywhere other than at the Stevens household.

"I've got to go." He told John regretfully.

"Dinner time already?" John asked, glancing down at his own watch.

"It would appear so." Alexander replied. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Sure." John agreed easily. "The foreign exchange student should be here by then."

"So soon?" Alexander wasn't eager to share John's attention just yet. They had only just begun to see more of each other one-on-one.

"It would appear so." John seemed bemused by Alexander's obvious disappointment. "Don't worry, I think you'll like Lafayette. He's one of us. And he's already read Payne's new book. Says he loved it."

Alexander nodded. He trusted John's judgment of Lafayette. Besides, as a general rule, Alexander liked people. He didn't necessarily trust them, but he liked them. "Then I look forward to meeting him. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." John agreed, nodding towards Alexander as he departed.


Alexander crept through the front door, listening for the sounds of clinking silver utensils. He was still thirty minutes early, but the Stevens were not known for following a strict schedule. Luckily, he could hear Mr. and Mrs. Stevens discussing the place settings in the kitchen.

Alexander quickly shuffled upstairs to change his clothes and put away his books.

"Alexander?" Mr. Stevens' voice came from the kitchen. "Is that you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Will you be joining us for dinner?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Stevens made a gruff noise before speaking again. "Have you met General Washington?"

"Washington?" Alexander's ears perked up.

Everyone knew about George Washington. He was the beginning of the new era. Every revolutionary had dreams of working alongside of Washington; of taking down the bipartisan structure by his side. If Washington was on your side, you were destined for greatness.

"Yes," Mr. Stevens seemed to know exactly why Alexander took an interest in the name. "But he's only here to have dinner. He is not here to discuss politics."

"Of course." Alexander agreed readily. He would have said whatever was necessary to keep his invitation to a dinner with George Washington. "No politics. What's for dinner?"

"Quiche." Mrs. Stevens responded smugly. She knew that Alexander hated quiche. He did everything that he could to resist wrinkling his nose. Dinner was of little importance compared to the chance to meet George Washington.

The doorbell rang.

"Are you coming down, or aren't you?" Mr. Stevens asked impatiently.

"Yes, sir!" Alexander called, his voice muffled by the semi-clean sweater he was attempting to yank over his head.

"Hurry up, then!" Mr. Stevens grumbled.

The moment Alexander's head cleared the neck of the sweater, he bounded down the elegant stairs and into the foyer. Mrs. Stevens spared him a look of disapproval before opening the front door, allowing an artificial smile to cross her face as she turned to face Mr. George Washington.

"Mr. Washington!" Mr. Stevens quickly brushed Mrs. Stevens out of the way. Though her artificial smile remained intact, Alexander could see the anger behind her eyes. He quietly stepped out of her way, eager to remain unnoticed. Mrs. Stevens had a nasty habit of lashing out at whoever was nearest to her.

"Mr. Stevens." Alexander finally caught his first glimpse of George Washington.

Except, it wasn't his first glimpse at all. It was just the man he'd run into on the street. He'd run into George Washington without even knowing it! And to think of the absent-minded, tactless way he'd behaved! Alexander blushed furiously as Washington's eyes landed on him.

"Right." Mr. Stevens noticed Washington's interest in Alexander. "I don't think you've had the pleasure of meeting our foster son, Alexander."

"On the contrary," Washington interjected with an amused smile. "We met this morning."

"This morning? But Alexander was at school." Mr. Stevens turned to look at Alexander, silently demanding an explanation.

"I was, sir." Alexander agreed hastily. He might have respected George Washington, but he was not going to get in trouble because of him. "I only ran into Mr. Washington on my way."

"Quite literally." Washington added, unhelpfully. Mr. Stevens glanced at Alexander, disapproving. Alexander would be receiving a lecture after dinner. Maybe the Stevens would even send him back to the orphanage. Quite possibly the latter. Alexander had been upsetting them fairly often these days.

"Poor boy, you must forgive him. He doesn't possess the manners that you and I take for granted," Mrs. Stevens interjected, grabbing Washington by the arm and guiding him towards the dining room. "And I'm sure he is just mortified by his conduct. Now, why don't we sit down and enjoy dinner? I've had the cook prepare a nice quiche."

"Quiche." Washington didn't look like he was much of a fan of quiche, either.


Revolutionary talk. There was revolutionary talk and Alexander was not permitted to engage in it at all. What made matters exceedingly difficult was that Mr. Stevens was so stupid and George Washington was so guarded. Mr. Stevens' stupidity was forgivable; the poor man hadn't chosen to be such an idiot, but Washington's conduct horrified Alexander. This was the most accomplished man in New York, and he was too reserved to even say what he thought about the place settings! How was anything going to change if no one spoke their mind?

"What do you think, Alexander?" The blessed question came from Washington two-thirds of the way through dinner.

"About what, sir?" Alexander asked, glancing at Mr. Stevens nervously. Mr. Stevens shook his head, forbidding Alexander to speak his mind.

"Anything we've been talking about. You've been quiet as a church mouse."

Alexander snuck one last glance at Mr. Stevens. Mr. Stevens shook his head again. Alexander turned back to look into Washington's warm eyes.

"I think that we're not doing enough by talking about it; by electing a few delegates to a committee that may or may not have any authority over its intended subjects."

"Is that so?" Washington asked.

"It would appear so to me, sir." Alexander answered, jutting his chin out proudly. He may not have had money, or connections, or the support of his family, but he had his thoughts. They were excellent thoughts.

"What do you recommend we do, instead?" Washington asked. It was then that Alexander remembered that Washington was working closely with the committee he had just criticized. Alexander smiled graciously.

"I think we ought to declare the current government null and void, outright." He said decisively.

"Alexander!" Mr. Stevens admonished. "Think of the consequences!"

Well, if he was already going to be lectured by the end of dinner, there was no use in holding back his thoughts.

"I am, sir! As it stands, whichever faction has the most cult-like following has the authority to do whatever they like; to promote their interests over everyone else's! If we moderate and speculate in the hopes that they will reform on their own, we will only see one single faction grow stronger until we are suddenly faced with a dictatorship."

"The government is not out to get you, Alexander. If they are overruling the majority's decision, it is because they are doing what is best for the people."

"No, it's not." Alexander objected, growing excited. "It's because they are doing what's best for their party. Why should it matter if women get abortions?"

"Alexander!" Mrs. Stevens objected shrilly.

"Why should it matter if two gay men want to get married?" Alexander demanded over Mrs. And Mr. Stevens' joint protests. "Why should it matter if a couple of immigrants want to come into the country to work? That could only strengthen the economy! No, when the government acts, it is most certainly not in the best interest of the people. It is only so they leave us so limited, so meek, that they may rule over us for centuries to come."

"So you'd have us overthrow them?" Washington asked, unbothered by Alexander's treasonous talk.

"No," Alexander smiled, shaking his head. "We should refuse to recognize them at all. We don't have to overthrow that group of men and women, because they will have no authority in the first place."

"And if they use their troops against us?"

"Most of the troops dislike the president in the first place." Alexander argued.

"That may be so, but that still leaves quite a bit of troops to oppose us." Washington reminded him. That kind smile of his hadn't left his face all dinner.

"Well, then, we fight."

"And if we lose?"

"I would rather perish a lion on the battlefield than a lamb to the slaughter."

"Hm." Washington nodded thoughtfully.

"Alexander." Mr. Stevens' tone was firm. "I think that you had better go start your homework. You're exhausting Mr. Washington."

"Yes, sir." Alexander knew to quit while he was ahead. At least George Washington knew what he thought. That was enough. For now.

As he ascended the stairs, he heard something that caused his heart to stop in his chest.

"In a few years, I think Alexander Hamilton will become a household name. Mark my words: history has its eyes on that one."