Hey guys! I know I'm writing like I'm running out of time, but I keep getting the urge to continue this story!

Trigger warnings: this chapter is dark, flashbacks to abuse, description of injuries sustained by abuse, mention of hospitals, mentioned panic attack.

Some French in this. It's a long one... word count is: 4,771

By the way, to clear up, they are in Virginia. I said west Virginia last time but that was the hospital.

Alex was quiet for a long moment before coughing, "you have another foster son? No one told me..."

Martha swallowed and reached to rub his arm, "we thought they'd have told you about Gil, we would have mentioned it but, well, things got a little hectic."

God damnit, you're such a burden they didn't even get a chance to mention their SON. Once he gets back from wherever he's been he'll immediately hate you, then they'll send you away. You'll go back to Pace, he's the only one that will take you now, he's gonna want revenge.

Alex nodded, not voicing his innermost fears.

"Well," George scratched his scalp awkwardly, "I really do need to get to the airport. Martha will fill you in on Gil and us."

He walked to Alex and ruffled his hair in a very fatherly gesture. Alex successfully bit back a grunt of pain when George's hand grated over the spot Pace had smashed his head into the wall.

George smiled at him and walked out the door with a small wave, the room was silent as he and Martha listened to his heavy footsteps retreat down the bleached white corridor.

"Gil is your age you know, well, maybe a few months older. He turns sixteen in four months, what about you?" Martha was attempting conversation now

"Uh, six..."

"Ah, okay... Gilbert's been in France for the past two weeks since it's August and school only resumes in September. He's from France you know, moved here after his parents died when he was eleven to live with relatives. Unfortunately they were set to move back to France but couldn't take Gilbert with them, so we took him in. He's been with us for five years now."

Martha explained all this animatedly, her eyes softening when she thought of the boy.

"Huh, that's a long time." Alex said, trying not to mentally calculate how quickly he'd be kicked out when this boy got home.

Martha nodded.

"What's he like, Gilbert?" Alex couldn't fight his natural curiosity.

"Well, for one thing, he goes by Lafayette or Laf more than Gil or Gilbert, we just call him that. He's extremely bubbly, extremely French. His English is pretty good, but cut him some slack, five years isn't that much when it comes to learning our 'strange, ugly sounding language.'"

She did air quotes there with her fingers and grinned. Alex couldn't quite hold back a laugh. Gil sounded like fun, even if he was going to be the end of Alex's few hours of rare affection.

"Do you speak any French Alex? Or any other languages?"

"Yeah... I'm fluent in three I guess, French, Spanish and English."

Martha stared at him in shock.

"Oh Gil is going to love you."

George fiddled with his keys as he stood in the arrivals lounge. Gil's plane had just landed, he would be here any minute now.

Putting his hands in his pockets he ran his fingers over a stray five dollar note and an idea struck him.

He walked quickly to the seven eleven opposite the arrivals board and scanned the candy shelf. Grinning, he grabbed a bar of Hersheys cookies and cream for Gil.

It was his favourite candy and they didn't have it in France. Knowing him, he'd be craving one by now.

After some quick deliberation he picked out the same for Alex, he had no idea what the boy liked chocolate wise but knew enough about teenagers to guess that anything with sugar was bound to be okay.

Besides, that boy could do with something to eat.

His shoved the chocolate into his jacket pocket and walked back over to the doors were Lafayette would come out.

After what was only about five minutes he heard an excited french voice that could only be Lafayette's coming down the corridor.

"Mon père is waiting for me! I haven't seen him in deux semaines! We have a foster boy joining our family this week you know!"

"Great..."

George grinned when he heard the weary voice of the unsuspecting victim who had been unlucky enough to sit next to Lafayette on the flight.

The grey doors swung open and a torrent of passengers streamed through, Gilbert at the front, his long, frizzy hair was tied back haphazardly in a ponytail and his fashion was as carefully casual as usual.

Black ripped jeans and white vest with French words scrawled across it in black messy pen. They seemed to have been written there by Gil himself.

'marre des criminels en uniforme.'

George didn't know what the slogan meant, making a mental note to ask his son later.

He raised his hand in greeting and a broad grin stretched across his face.

Lafayette cried out and sprinted towards George, dropping his suitcase and embracing his foster father tightly.

"Tu m'as manqué! So much!"

"I missed you!"

George chuckled, letting the french slide. Usually he and Martha tried to encourage him to speak english as much as possible but he had just returned from France, he would cut him some slack.

"I did too son, ruffling his hair affectionately and pulling the candy bar out of his pocket."

Lafayette gasped and ripped open the packet, popping a square into his mouth and closing his eyes.

"You know me too well, papa!"

George chuckled and put his arm around the boy's shoulders. He had grown a little since he had last seen him but was still almost short next to George, he was about five foot ten and was admittedly tall for his age.

"So, the... how do you Americans say it again? Something about an animal in a room?"

George grinned, "elephant."

Lafayette snapped his fingers and continued, "yes, the elephant in the room, what is Alexander like? He arrived last night didn't he?"

George frowned. "Yeah, he did."

Lafayette furrowed his brows, "what is it? Is he what we feared? A diligent?"

George couldn't help roar with laughter at this. "A diligent!" He guffawed.

Lafayette folded his arms angrily, "well at least my language sounds nice, yours is just grunting."

"No he's not a delinquent."

"Oh, so why do you frown so?"

"Let's talk about it in the car okay Laf?"

Lafayette nodded and hastened his step through the car park. George clicked his keys and he opened the car door, getting into the driver's seat. Lafayette jumped into the passenger seat next to him and buckled in his seat-belt.

They drove out onto the freeway in comfortable silence and Lafayette sighed at the familiar surroundings of his second home.

"So, tell me about this boy Alex. He's no delinquent yet your frown at his name?"

George nodded. "Alex hasn't had a very happy life..."

"More than any other 'gamin' in the system?"

George didn't know if that meant orphan or boy or teen but got what Lafayete was saying.

"Yeah, more than most. He wasn't lucky enough to be placed in a home like ours straight away, like you were."

"How many houses has he had?"

"Homes has he stayed in, Laf, he's never owned a house, he's fifteen. He's stayed in nine."

"Oh you get what I mean," he murmured something under his breath and George caught one word, merde.

"Oy! My french isn't totally useless, I know a curse when I hear it."

"L'homme pense il peut comprendre française! Ha!"

"The man thinks he can understand french!"

"I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you were telling me how much you missed my sharp wit and excellent sense of humour."

Lafayette laughed and George grinned, glad to have Gil back with his halting English and smirked French taunts.

"Anyway," continued Lafayette, "how has his life been hard?"

"We don't really know yet. I don't want you to get worried or anything, he's fine now, but we had to take him to the hospital today."

Lafayette gasped, "merde, porquoi?"

"Shit, why?"

"Well, its a long story."

"It's a long drive."

George smirked, "well, he passed out after breakfast. I haven't had a chance to look at the medical report yet but I have it with me, you can look at it if you like."

George reached into the glove compartment for a few sheets of paper. Before he handed them to his son he spoke again.

"Look, I wouldn't let you see this if I didn't think it necessary but if you're going to be his brother you should know without having to grill him about it. I know you know not to share this with anyone, but I'm just reminding you again."

Lafayette nodded seriously and took the papers carefully. Brushing some hair behind his ear he started to read.

Medical report for: Alexander James Hamilton, 7th Aug 2017

Reason of admission: verified unconsciousness for over two minutes, reported panic attack, reported vomiting.

Other injuries: minor bruising around left eye, severe bruising on upper shins, upper arms and wrists, chest, neck, stomach, shoulders and back. Defense wounds on knuckles and scratching on palms. Mild concussion due to to mild head trauma on the left side.

Scars/ moles/ physical identification: scars on upper and lower back and shoulders from repeated striking, burn scar on bicep from long, thin object. Burn marks from cigarette on shoulders and arms. Mole on left shoulder blade, shin and large freckles on biceps.

Physical appearance: dark brown hair, Brown eyes, tanned skin.

Ethnicity: Latino Caribbean.

Gender: male

Height: 5'5

Weight: 103 lbs

Cause of fainting: exhaustion, drop in blood pressure due to panic attack, malnourishment.

Cause of other injuries: suspected past child abuse.

Current guardian/s: George Washington, Martha Washington.

Parents: Rachel Fawcett (deceased), James Hamilton (whereabouts unknown)

Date of birth: 11th January, 2002

Age: 15.5

Admission time: 7:43

Nurses and doctors that treated the patient: Nathaniel Pendleton (nurse) Abigail swan (nurse) Dr Henry swave (paediatrician), Dr Samantha Warren (psychiatrist).

Diagnosis: generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, possible other mental disorders, malnutrition, anaemia.

Prescription for Prozac and iron attached.

Lafayette finished reading the report and felt his eyes stinging.

"Ce n'est pas bien. This isn't good."

George nodded, staring straight ahead at the road, hands clenching the steering wheel tightly.

"He's been abused, he's pretty badly beaten up."

"What other injuries has he got?" George looked at Lafayette in concern, "I only know about the ones on his hands and wrists."

"Il y a beaucoup, bruises on his arms, legs, back, chest, stomach and shoulders. It mentions scars from being struck repeatedly on his back and a burn from something unspecified and cigarette ends."

George's jaw clenched shut.

"C'est horrible! Je n'y crois pas! This boy is barely taller than my eleven year old cousin and weighs as much too! He's no threat to anyone!"

"I know son, I know. But people are cruel. Martha and I are trying to help. Though, he's a little scared of me, I have to admit."

Looking at his father, Lafayette wasn't surprised. George was tall, dark and handsome. The intimidating features of his appearance however lay in his shocking height that dwarfed even relatively tall men and muscular body.

Lafayette didn't say it out loud but to an abused kid, George's exterior was something from a nightmare. And yet, he was the kidnest and most gentle man Gilbert had ever met.

His eyes were stern but lit up with mirth at very joke. He had a rather endearing sheepish grin when Martha was scolding him and a safe, protective nature. When he was angry, which had never been at his family, he was truly terrifying.

Once Lafayette had been bullied at school by some classmates for his immigrant status and Principal Adams had refused to take action, despite Lafayette's black eye.

Needless to say, after George was through with him the boys left Mr. Adam's office crying after a personal lecture from George. If it hadn't been so terrifying, it would have been absolutely hilarious.

They pulled into the driveway and got out, George slamming the door slightly too hard after Lafayette and opening up, his keys trembling in his hand with rage.

When Lafayette first met the Washingtons five years ago, this would have scared him half senseless, however now it merely concerned him. Although, Lafayette was glad Alex wasn't present at the moment.

They stepped into the house and as though George sensed Lafayette's concern he swept him into a hug.

"I'm sorry your first night back was like this, but if there's anyone who can be the best brother to Alex, it's you."

Lafayette hugged this father even tighter and George stroked his head.

Lafayette spoke, his voice muffled against George's shoulder. "Tu as un coeur sensible, papa."

You've got a soft heart.

George grinned and patted his son's back.

"You've gotten taller young man," he said, holding Lafayette out in front of him.

"And you've gotten some new freckles."

Lafayette shrugged sheepishly, "it's très chaud in Paris right now. Very hot."

George grinned and ushered his son into the kitchen.

"Do you want some hot chocolate before bed, huh?"

"Mon Dieu! Oui, it was too hot to drink it in Paris, but it's strangely chilling here."

"Chilly, son."

"You and your funny words that all sound the same but mean different things..." huffed Lafayette, pouting.

"Oh! Mr chapeau, château, cadeau! As if every French word is completely different!"

These words all just mean random things (hat, castle, gift)

Lafayette laughed and nodded in agreement, "but our words sound better, non!"

George had to smile at that and ushered Gil off to bed with his hot drink and a quick goodnight.

At the stop of the stairs Laf flicked of the light and yelled a "bon nuit!" Down the stairs to his father.

Flopping onto his bed he just managed to strip his jeans off before passing out completely, thoughts of Alex in his mind.


The next morning Alex and Martha were picked up by George at nine thirty, Alex mercifully back in his regular clothes and conscious.

The drive from the hospital wasn't long but was filled with conversations and questions from the Washingtons about Alex. Mercifully, they were no more prying than his hobbies and favourite colour.

"So, Alex, what kind of things do you like to do?" Asked Martha kindly.

"I uh, I like to write I guess. Essays, letters, debates. I read too."

Wow, you are a nerd. No wonder you have no friends.

George spoke now

"That's pretty cool Alex, my job pretty much revolves around debating and writing, so its nice to see someone your age take an interest."

"What do you do?" Asked Alex, feeling guilty he hadn't asked already.

"I'm a politician, not a major one at that, but with the election for Senate coming soon, I'm hoping that will change."

"Oh, what party?" Asked Alex, squeezing his fingers crossed.

"Democratic, I'm one of the very liberal ones they warn you about." He chuckled at this and Alex stopped panicking. This was good, he had left, egalitarian views the same as Alex.

"Cool," Alex started, "My beliefs align with the Democratic party's ones far more than the Republican's. I think it's important we hold the government accountable for the well-being of the country and allow them to change legislation for the better."

Yeah, yeah, he knows, spare him the lecture why don't you?

"I do think it's important not to place blind faith in them however, many politicians hold views that are detrimental to American values of equality. I'm sure you're angered at the recent election results, frankly I'm astounded a business man could ever win election. I guess it shows the place we've come to as a country, that we would trust a person with the most money over a person with the most experience."

Alex paused for breath and immediately regretted his rant.

Why does it always come to this? You can't shut up and they get angry. Do you ever learn?

Before he could apologise George and Martha were laughing loudly.

"Looks like we've got a budding politician on our hands. You've got some strong opinions Alex."

George smiled. "Though I completely agree with you."

Alex nodded sheepishly and grinned, surprised at their lack of anger. Even Katherine, his best host, hand asked him to 'please quiet down' a few times.

They parked the car and got out, Martha opening up and hanging her jacket on the hook in the hall.

Halfway down the hall to the kitchen Alex heard a faint scrambling from upstairs and a frantic French voice.

"Il est ici! Il est ici!"

"he's here, he's here!"

Alex jumped. That must be Gilbert. Oh God, he was going to take one look at him and hate his guts.

He looked expectantly at the stairs and watched as a dishevelled but extremely handsome boy swung like a cat around the banister and slid down the smooth wide rail on his back to land with a clatter in front of Alex.

His hair was tied back in a ponytail and his skin was dark and smooth. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. He was quite tall, certainly much taller than Alex and muscled too, showing off his lean biceps in a tank top that read 'marre des criminels en uniforme'

Fed up of criminals in uniform.

Alex grinned at this internally and stuttered a tentative "hello..." to the taller boy, cringing at the dissonance his confident interior persona and the tentative one he showed everyone else.

The boy smiled cheerfully and reached out to shake Alex's hand. Alex hesitantly held out his bandaged hand to the boy and shook it firmly. If he was surprised at the injury, he didn't show it and instead grinned down at Alex.

Not pausing to consider if he spoke French or not he commented,

"Il est assez mince et petit mais il serre les mains comme un homme. Quelle drôle!"

"He's small and thin but he shakes hand like a man, how funny!"

Alex stiffened and dropped his hand and responded sharply in the same language.

He knew it was a bad idea, he knew he'd most likely get a punch for it, but again, his mouth just let the cutting words pour out of him, pushing each other to reach the boy the fastest.

"Excuse moi, mais, Je ne pense que ma taille affecte ma virilité, vous êtes trop grands, je ne suis pas trop petit et tu ne derails pas m'insulter car, je suis plus fort que j'en ai l'air."

"Excuse me, but, I don't think my size affects my masculinity, you're too tall, I'm not too short. You shouldn't dare insult me, because I'm stronger than I look."

If Alex had had a camera in that moment to capture the expression on Lafayette's face, the result would have been priceless. The taller boy stood stock still for a moment, eyes wide with a mix of embarrassment and utter awe.

"Tu... tu parles français?" He finally managed to stutter, as if he couldn't believe a five foot five, bastard foster kid could possibly speak French. Or maybe that was just how Alex interpreted the silence.

"Oui... ma mère etait française."

As if a switch had been flicked Lafayette's face burst into a huge grin and he rushed forward to swing Alex into a hug.

"Ce gamin est fou!" He cried.

Alex stiffened and crouched down, wrapping his arms around himself, expecting the inevitable blows for his insolence.

George reached out a hand to stop Lafayette from jumping on the boy and pushed him gently back.

Lafayette stopped and mentally slapped himself when he looked down at the petrified boy.

Slowly, he knelt down and put his arm loosely around Alex's shoulder, making sure the hold felt comforting rather than restraining.

"Alexander, je suis très desole, I didn't mean to give you a fright. You're okay here, it's okay."

Alex tilted his head to look Lafayette in the eyes and for the first time Laf noticed how pretty the boy was. That was probably a weird observation to make given the situation, but he couldn't help think it. He noticed those sorts of things, occupational hazard of being a fashion forward, pansexual teenager

Alex's eyes were large and emotive, framed by long dark lashes and a deep brown in colour, like something earthy and warm. His skin was a dark tan and faint rouge and freckles from the sun decorated the space across his nose and cheeks.

His face, although too thin and set anxiously, was all together not unlike the face of John Laurens, one of Lafayette's closest friends. Not so much in shape or form, but in the shade of tan they shared and the deep brown of their eyes.

Alex blinked a few times in what Lafayette read as a mix of embarrassment and shock.

Shocked that you're not about to beat him...

Lafayette's stomach squirmed guiltily and he stood up along with Alex, giving him a quick, brotherly pat on the shoulder.

Martha and George had watched the entire exchange with a variety of emotions, Martha who had known Alex could speak French, barely managed to keep in a laugh at her husband and son's expression upon discovering Alex's confidence with the language.

Both their hearts soared however when Lafayette had crouched down to comfort Alex, and both has stood on silently, not wanting intervene in this moment of bonding.

Martha clapped her hands togetger, pretending not to notice the way Alex flinched, and smiled.

"Well, I think it's time I get started on breakfast, Alex, I think you could so with eating something, you picked at that hospital food last night. Though I can't say I blame you."

Wait, Lafayette knows about the hospital? Why else would Martha mention it in front of him so casually? Shit, he thinks you're a freak. A broken, sick, orphan, freak. They all do. You're just a bother. I bet they wished you just died yesterday. Maybe you should have.

Alex stumbled back a little and let out a tiny whimper, unheard by anyone. He hadn't thought like that since... no. He wouldn't think about that. He wasn't going to remember that.

Pushing himself forward he stumbled after the family and into the kitchen.

"Alex, dear, you should sit down, you look tired."

Martha was taking in his pained expression with worry, she gestured at the chair.

He nodded and slid into it, closing his eyes and letting the morning sun stream through the kitchen window and warm his face. What seemed like only a few seconds later he was being shaken gently at the shoulder.

"Alex, Alex, réveillez-vous."

He opened his eyes and jumped, feeling the stares of the entire Washington family on him.

"Sorry... I guess I drifted off." He apologised, hoping to God they wouldn't be angry.

"Please don't be mad, I'm sorry."

George and Martha looked at each other, Geirge spoke up, "look, Alex, no one is angry you fell asleep. You had a tiring day yesterday. It's no wonder you're fatigued."

Alex nodded quickly and sat up straighter, correcting his usually poor posture. Pace had hated it when he stood up straight, he had always wanted Alex to seem as small as he could be, as beaten down as possible. As a result, his slouch was pretty habitual.

He sat in silence as Martha and George brought the breakfast over, thankfully they had put the dishes in the middle, so Alex could take as little as possible.

He waited until everyone else had taken a sizeable portion of the scrambled eggs and bacon before taking a small serving of the eggs and the smallest strip of bacon he could see.

Slowly, between gulps of water he made his way through the eggs, trying not to think of all the boys back at the foster home, what they would say if they saw him now.

Greedy, ungrateful, burden, undeserving.

Shutting this voice out he continued, nearly halfway through his small serving. Deciding he had eaten enough of the eggs, he turned his attention to the bacon.

Then the memories crashed over him like freezing ice water.

Bacon had been Mr. Paces favourite. That wasn't exactly a unique trait, everyone seemed to love the food, but he could still remember how the smell every Saturday morning made his empty stomach feel even more hollow.

One morning, Mr. Pace had left the room to get changed as the food on the pan cooked.

Alex, sensing an opportunity to relive himself from the unbearbale hunger pangs that racked his body, had carefully stepped his way over all the floor boards that creaked (he had memorized the noisy ones so he could move around quietly).

Making his way into the kitchen he had rifled through the bottom draw under the sink for a minute before finding the granola bars stashed there. Grabbing two, he had quickly crept back towards the kitchen door and had gotten as far as the fridge when Pace came in again, fully dressed.

He remembered the smirk on his foster father's face when he had seen the granola bars clutched tight in his bony hand. Pace had taken an ominous step toward him, breath smelling strongly of beer, even though it couldn't have have been past 9:00 am.

He remembered how much taller the man had been than him, how much stronger. The way his hands had curled around his neck and slammed him into the wall had the casual air another man might apply to picking up a jacket or opening a cupboard.

Pace had snarled angrily at him, "so you think you can steal from me, huh? You think you can sneak into my kitchen like the little rat you are and steal from me?"

Alex had shook his head frantically and dropped the granola bars, letting them hit the floor with a light thump. Pace had laughed at the fourteen year old struggling in front of him, his legs kicking helplessly.

The first punch in the gut came like a sledge hammer, the following ones battering into him like stones in an avalanche. He remembered sliding onto the floor and curling up against himself, trying to brace himself for whatever pain Pace decided to inflict on him next.

A strong kick in the ribs had forced him out of his ball, leaving him too stunned to curl back in on himself.

Pace had just laughed as he lay there, taking the kicks like rag doll, too weary to even try to defend himself. He remembered how he thought it was all over when the kicks stopped. How he had gasped in relief and let the tears in his eyes finally well up and flow.

Pace had crouched down next to him, holding something large and black in his left hand. He had grabbed Alex's arm roughly and held him in place as he pushed the burning frying pan to the boy's bicep.

Alex remembered how be had been to shocked to react instantly, how it had taken the sizzle and steam to rise from his arm before he had started to scream.

The smell of bacon and human flesh burning had melded together and it struck Alex that they weren't that different after all, was there a difference between human and animal flesh anyway? He didn't think so.

Sorry this was so long! I apologise for pushing my political agenda through fanfiction lol. I guess I'm a scary feminist leftie!