Alex was used to this by now. Packing his things because another foster family couldn't handle him, ready to go from the orphanage to yet another home. It wasn't like any of this was even his fault.
Alex never knew his father, who'd left before he was born. He never knew who he was, let alone if he was still alive. And even if he was still alive, he probably wouldn't want anything to do with him anyway. So growing up, it had just been Alex, his mother and his brother James. Alex was asthmatic and always falling ill and his mother would always look after him. She knew he was weaker than James. James knew it too. Though it never occurred to him to pick on his younger brother. Instead, he would protect him.
Alex was seven when he was diagnosed with diabetes. His mother worked hard to be able to afford his insulin. They could hardly afford anything else and certainly no luxuries. Not once did Alex or James complain.
Two years later, the small family was dealt yet another blow. Alex was having trouble moving around without pain. His joints were always stiff and hot. His mother took him to the doctor who diagnosed him with arthritis. Again, Alex didn't complain. He knew he had to keep going, moving forward.
Most of the time, his joints hurt him so badly that he was unable to attend school, so he educated himself with library books. Sometimes his neighbor would come over and teach him things. Usually it was writing, other times it was mathematics, but she would always use different languages-English, French, Spanish and Hebrew, she was Jewish after all.
When Alex was twelve, he fell ill. At first it was muscle pain, a headache and a lot of vomiting. Alex's mother did her best to take care of him, even when she fell ill herself. He didn't get better. In fact, he got worse. And so did his mother. His mother could only afford medicine for one of them and because Alex was a sickly kid, she gave it to him. His mother died trying to comfort Alex as he was writhing in pain.
James found them and called the doctor. Neighbors raised money for Alex's medical treatment and eventually, he recovered. He had been suffering from Yellow Fever, his mother unfortunately unable to afford a vaccine for him. He thought it was just a normal bug. And he figured so did his mother, since he was probably given the wrong medicine. Alex was devastated. What his mother had had was curable. But it had left him with kidney failure.
As Alex had been in the hospital, James was placed in a foster family and Alex never saw his brother again. Because Alex went to live with his much older cousin Peter. It lasted about two months. That was when Alex found Peter's body when he chose to commit suicide-by hanging.
So Alex went to live with a foster family about five minutes away from his old home. He loved that family and they loved him. Everything went fine. Until the hurricane. They all died. Even the dog. Alex-by some grace of God-survived.
This hurricane was massive news around the world, after all, an entire island had been destroyed. For some reason-an American family from New York, the Hamiltons, chose to adopt Alex. That was really weird. But Alex had a feeling that they adopted him out of pity-maybe to look good to the neighbors-and weren't really aware of his complex medical history. When they found out just how bad it was... Well, that was Alex's first experience with the American Child Protective Services.
Since then, Alex had bounced around from foster home to foster home, none of them able to care for his medical needs for very long. And in his most recent foster placement, he'd been diagnosed with leukemia. The parents were nice-good people. As had been the other families he'd stayed with. Alex considered himself lucky in that regard. The family felt so bad for him, but they just couldn't (afford to) look after him. So they wanted to give him up to some family that could. But Alex knew that there probably wouldn't be anyone who could look after an arthritic, diabetic teenager with serious kidney issues. Oh and cancer. So he didn't keep his hopes up.
Alex was sitting on his backpack in the orphanage. Lin, the chief social worker there, had told Alex something probably comforting-after all, he spoke with a smile-but Alex wasn't paying attention. He knew Lin well enough by now to know what he was saying. Lin was nice. He liked Alex and Alex liked him in return. They'd bonded over the fact that they were both immigrants from the Caribbean. Lin would take Alex to his appointments at the free clinic. Buy Alex sugar free ice cream and other treats whenever Alex got an A-all the time. Yeah. Lin was nice.
In fact, there were two items that Alex considered dear to him-a leather bound journal with 'A.F.' embossed in the corner-Alex's birth initials-that was given to him by his mother on his twelfth birthday and a rather expensive looking fountain pen gifted to him by Lin the first Christmas that Alex arrived at the orphanage once Lin had seen how much that Alex loved to write. Lin was just the kind of guy to get all the kids personal Christmas gifts. But while other kids left and got fostered or adopted, Alex kept coming back because of his medical issues. So of course none of this was his fault.
When there was a knock at the door, Lin went to answer it. At the door was Phillipa, Alex's social worker. She was wearing a sympathetic smile as she took Alex away from the orphanage to yet another foster home. Alex said a rather emotionless goodbye to Lin, the man who'd cared for him over the past three years, and the two of them climbed into Phillipa's car and then she drove away.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Phillipa spoke out first. "I'm sorry your last placement didn't work out."
"They could handle the arthritis. The diabetes. The kidney failure. But the cancer was too much." Alex folded his arms angrily. "Why does nobody care about me?"
"People do care about you, Alex." Phillipa said. "I care about you."
"No you don't." Alex said. "I'm just your job."
"Lin cares about you."
"I'm his job too."
"Yet you treasure that pen he gave you." Phillipa sighed. "Alex, I've done my best to find you a new foster home. I called around through the state, but nobody could take you."
"There's a surprise." Alex's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"But there's a wonderful family out of state that would be delighted to take you."
"You're kidding?"
"I'm not kidding." Phillipa glanced at Alex in the passenger seat. "But unfortunately, they're in Virginia."
"Virginia?!" Alex's hands snapped to his sides and he grabbed the seat as tight as he could. "Phillipa, I don't wanna go to Virginia!"
"I'm sorry, Alex, but you don't get to decide." Phillipa said. "This family, well, I feel they're a great family for you. The Washingtons."
"Oh great." Alex rolled his eyes. "What's the catch? They have Kids? Pets?"
"They have four other foster children."
"Sending me to a crowded house. Way to lose your job, Phillipa."
"Alex, don't take that tone with me." Phillipa said. "The Washingtons are your best chance at a family. Don't screw this up."
Alex knew she meant it.
They drove in silence the rest of the way to the airport, with not even the radio on. When they got to the airport, Phillipa parked the car and let out a long sigh.
"Alex. You're a good kid." She said. "You try, despite your many obstacles. I chose the Washingtons because they have a reputation with kids like you."
"Useless, you mean."
"Alex, you're not useless."
"I am. Nobody wants me."
Phillipa took a printed out plane ticket from her bag. "The Washingtons want you. And you-"
Alex snatched the ticket. "We'll see how much they want me when they realise they have to care for me."
"This is probably the last time we'll ever see each other, Alex."
"I know." Alex said. "Thank you."
"Don't forget to take your medication." Phillipa said as Alex exited her car for the airport.
Over in Virginia, George and Martha Washington were rounding up their children, ready for another day. But this wouldn't be another day. This would be the day where they get a new member of their growing family. It was also a Saturday morning. That meant running practice for Lafayette, art classes for John, sewing club for Hercules and cooking classes for Aaron. Just as long as he didn't injure himself again.
"Come on, Hercules!" George called out. "Everyone else is at the table having breakfast already!"
Lafayette was giggling as they took more of Martha's crepes. For them, it was almost like being back in France.
John had his hands over his ears, rocking and muttering to himself. Soothing himself to the chaos around him.
And Aaron was trying to tune out the back and forth shouting between George, Martha and Hercules. He felt sorry for John now. It must be hard for him with his hypersensitive hearing. And Aaron was Deaf!
Finally, Hercules zoomed into the kitchen in his wheelchair, snatched a piece of toast off the table and carried on going. George loudly cleared his throat to get Hercules' attention. It worked. But it also garnered snickering from his siblings-Aaron and Lafayette in particular. John was still muttering 'turtle' over and over again to himself. Hercules spun around and sheepishly looked at George.
"And where were you going?"
"Um... Sewing club?" Hercules offered.
"No." George said simply. "You're going to have breakfast here. With your family."
"But George-"
"But George nothing." George said. "You know how John is with routine."
Hercules nodded and grudgingly went over to the table, seating himself next to Aaron.
"Don't forget, Hercules, you have a hospital appointment this afternoon." George said. "Martha will be taking you."
"But it's always you." Hercules frowned.
"Yes, well today it won't be." George scooped up some scrambled eggs and put them on his plate. "Because will be picking up your new foster sibling from the airport."
"Why the airport?" Lafayette asked.
"Because they're coming from New York." Martha said. "John, honey, eat your food with your fork."
John grunted and picked up his fork.
"New York?" Aaron asked. "Do they know Philip Schuyler?"
"I doubt it, Aaron." George said. "They're sixteen years old."
"Yeah, but I know Philip Schuyler."
"You're actually from New York. Your new foster sibling is originally from the Caribbean."
"Really?" Lafayette stopped eating. "Wow."
"You'll get to meet them later, Lafayette." George said.
"What's their name?" John asked. "Turtle."
"Alex Hamilton." Martha said.
Alex hated the plane ride. He was put next to a man and his wife and their crying baby. The crying baby annoyed him to no end. He tried to look out of the window and think about other things. Like the Washingtons and their four other kids. What would they be like? But still that failed. Because the baby was too loud. And every time he had to take his medication, the husband would look at him as if he was taking hard drugs. He just wondered why Phillipa couldn't go with him.
When Alex's plane touched down, he had to wait to leave the plane. Behind the family with the baby. And though his head hurt, his joints hurt even worse-he could feel the heat radiating out of them. Suddenly Alex found himself wishing he could sit down again and take some pain pills. As he left the plane and walked to the baggage carousel, he almost collapsed twice. He hadn't eaten anything on the plane-not exactly good for his diabetes. Still, he managed to stagger out to the arrivals hall, dragging his backpack behind him. It was there that he was met by an older man.
"Are you okay, son?" He asked.
"Don't call me son." Alex snapped.
"You look like death warmed over." The man said. "Where are your parents?"
"Dead and a deadbeat." Alex hitched his backpack on his shoulder and began to walk away.
The man pondered for a few seconds. "Are you Alex Hamilton, by any chance?"
Alex turned around to face the man. "Yes." He frowned. "How do you-don't tell me. You're Mr Washington?" He wasn't expecting Mr Washington to be Senator George Washington. That was certainly a surprise.
"Mr Washington is too formal, son, call me George."
"I'm not your son." Alex said through gritted teeth.
"Do you want to go and get your suitcase?" George asked.
"I've got all my things."
Somehow that hurt George. He should have been used to it, after all. John came with next to nothing and Aaron came with next to nothing. But Lafayette had a number of belongings and so did Hercules, so maybe it was just John and Aaron's bad luck that they had to go through numerous foster homes. Just like Alex.
"Come on then, son-"
"Call me son one more time-!" Alex stopped himself from going any further. People were staring. "Let's just go." He dropped his voice to little more than a whisper."
George would be lying if he said he didn't feel affronted by Alex's shouting, but still cleared his throat. "Oh, I'm sorry. I suppose it's my fault for assuming pronouns. Would you tell me what they are?"
"Why do you care? You're only going to end up abandoning me anyway." Alex said quietly.
"Alex-"
"Alexander."
"Fine. Alexander, I've looked at your file. You've not stayed with a family for more than two months and that includes your former adoptive family. I assure you, your home with us will be permanent."
Alex scoffed. "That's what they all say."
"You'll see what I mean when you meet the rest of the family." George smiled.
Alex shrugged. "We'll see how long this lasts."
Alex was led out of the arrivals hall by George, who also insisted that Alex eat something after seeing him struggling to stand and walk. George also led Alex to his car, a navy sedan. Normal. Understated for a politician. Even more so for a politician in the South. Didn't exactly scream out 'family man' either. Still, Alex got into George's car, sitting in the passenger side and dumping his backpack at his feet. George got into the drivers side and talked as he drove. Alex tuned him out. He knew that George would only abandon him somehow, just like all the other families.
It was only after George had put on the radio that Alex noticed that they were driving through a very well-off area. He was both fascinated and afraid. He'd never seen such big houses before in his life. George clearly wasn't looking to cash a check for looking after him. Then again, he was a senator. So of course he could afford to live in a massive house like the ones they were passing.
George slowed down as he approached gates. Gates? Alex couldn't help but think to himself; Holy crap this guy is loaded. George drove through the gates and chuckled to himself at Alex's reaction. Though Alex heard it, he didn't say anything. He was too in awe of the biggest house-no, mansion-that he'd ever seen. George came to a stop in the driveway and got out of the car.
"Looks like Martha's not home yet." George said.
"Martha?" Alex asked, getting out of the car.
"My wife." George locked his car and walked to the front door.
Alex followed him. "Oh." He said with a nod.
"She's taken our foster son Hercules to a doctor's appointment." George said. "Alright, Alexander, come in."
Slowly, Alex followed George into the house-mansion-and looked around. It reminded Alex of the TARDIS in Doctor Who-a favorite of Lin's-everything looked bigger on the inside. He was ready to take back what he said to Phillipa earlier. This place was not overcrowded.
"Hello?" George called out loudly, to no answer. He turned to Alex. "Looks like we have the place to ourselves. I'll take you to your room and you can get settled."
Alex nodded. "Okay." He said.
Alex followed George around the mansion and listened as he talked. Listened in the loosest sense of the word. He didn't really care what this man had to say. He knew he would be out of this place faster than he could say 'Alexander Hamilton'. They walked up some stairs, Alexander grateful that the Washingtons had a stair lift. Once upstairs, they passed by some rooms, clearly bedrooms. There was a colorful one with clothes strewn about the floor and was that a leg? And then there was two contrasting rooms-a dimly lit one with a fluffy carpet and a lava lamp in the corner and a very well lit one with a lot of space, no carpet and a lot of lamps. Alex frowned. Weren't there supposed to be four other kids, not three? Still, he carried on walking after George until they reached a bedroom near the end of the hall.
"Well, Alexander, this is your bedroom." George opened the door to a room that looked a lot like the colorful room. Only it was in shades of green. And a lot cleaner. And tidier. With no legs on the floor.
Alex took a tentative step inside. "Um... It's green."
"Yes it is." George nodded. "Martha and I, we didn't know what color you liked. So we left the color as it was."
"No. Green is fine." Alex said. Still confident that the Washingtons would throw him out-even though it would look bad on George, being a senator and all.
"Good. Good." George nodded. "Why don't you get settled in? I'll call you when it's time for dinner. Then you can meet the rest of the Washington family." He smiled.
Alex nodded and closed the door once George had walked away. Green. He liked green. But he probably wouldn't be at the Washingtons long enough for them to find out. He put his backpack on the floor and sat down on the bed. Springy. Almost like being back at the Jacksons. Their house was nice too. But a house it was. Not a mansion.
Alex sighed as he took out his precious journal and pen and made another entry.
A/N: So it's a foster family fic with a twist! Inspired by some other foster care AU's I've seen and by my mother, who is a social worker.
Apparently, disabled kids are the hardest to find foster homes for and sometimes, once they're fostered, other disabled kids get placed with that family too. So all the Hamilsquad have disabilities of some kind.
Alexander is inspired by real life Alexander Hamilton, who did have some serious health issues like kidney failure caused by the Yellow Fever he suffered as a child. When Eliza sang 'the fact that you're alive is a miracle', she was being serious. It's not only amazing that he lived as long as he did, but that he died from a gunshot wound, rather than his illnesses.
Aaron is Deaf-blind. He has cochlear implants which help him hear and he's legally blind. But not he's not fully either, like most Deaf-blind people.
John is autistic. Like me.
Hercules has spina bifida, which makes him paralysed.
And Lafayette is an amputee.
You'll find out their backstories as we go along. Also, all these abusive foster fics bothered me because that's not what most of them are like. And I know this because my mother is a social worker. So none of the Hamilsquad will have experienced abuse that isn't from their original homes-the ones they were taken away from. I hope I get this right-I've been asking my mother for advice, but she's a social worker in Britain, so bear that in mind.
Also, Lin and Phillipa are not Lin-Manuel Miranda and Phillipa Soo, they are simply OCs that are named for them.
Lastly, because his father left before he was born, Alexander's birth name is Alexander Faucette, not Hamilton. He was adopted into a family called Hamilton, which is why his last name is Hamilton.
(Title from ITH)
