Hello! Thanks to all reviewers! I will respond to you if you have a question but for now, mostly I just read them and giggle to myself because you guys are great.

To lams pickles: well I don't know of that would work out, see, I'm a fifteen year old who's never had a boyfriend or girlfriend for longer than like a week. Lol. There are plenty of Hamilton fics about that stuff... I guess. There's 'archive of our own' too, which has a bit more fanfiction than this site has.

To Ranger corpses: Yeah, I'm putting in French translations now. Sometimes when I write in French I want to put in a translation but it makes the text took all broken up and akward, but I think my readers understanding what the characters are saying is a bit more important than the 'aesthetic'.

Kinzey thatwritermadeofpotatoes is still helping me out! Thanks Kinz!

In this one George Washington and Laf are a bit reckless, Alex is sad, Martha is a boss and things are a bit angsty.

Alex sat on his bed, the room lit up with a peachy, incandescent light around him. It was sunset and they were just about to have dinner. Well, everyone else would have dinner. He usually ended up sipping at water and pushing the food on his plate around with his fork.

He got up and started to change, taking of his shirt. Alexander examined his appearance in the mirror and shuddered slightly. His ribs were clearly visible through taught, stretched skin. His stomach had turned an ugly, mottled collage of stormy colours. There were faint traces of red edging the particularly bad bruises and they ached in the familiar way he had grown used to when living with Pace.

Aside from that, the cuts on his forearm were now visible and he winced when he saw how may there were. Some were pink, shiny stripes healed to scars over the past month or so and some were dark, sangune scabs from some time in the past few days.

His complexion had changed from it's usual dark, coppery beige to a sallow dun. He'd hoped that he might gain at least some colour back from the september sun but it seemed that his less than healthy eating and sleeping habits had cancelled it out.

He pulled off his socks and discarded them to the other side of the room before putting on an oversized shirt and collapsing onto his bed.

He lay there awake for what seemed like hours, but couldn't have been more than thirty minutes. When he got up again there was still a faded crimson hue seeping into his room from the sunset.

He reached into his top drawer and pulled out the metal tin he'd hidden there weeks ago. He pulled off the lid and curled up onto his bed, shutting out the part of his mind that was screaming at him to stop. That part of his mind wouldn't resurface until he'd finished. There was time for regret later.

No one left to care

What's it like just being an after thought?

When that later came, he dabbed at his arm with an old tee shirt and pulled his bed covers around him tightly. He fell into an uneasy sleep, completely forgetting about dinner. He was sure he would awake soon so he allowed his old tee shirt to absorb the blood currently leaking from his arm.

He awoke not long afterwards to a presence in his room near the door. Alex blinked blearily and looked up to see George stood there, his hand raised to knock on the wall. Even though the door was open and he could easily come and jerk Alex awake, he still had the courtesy to knock. It got stranger and stranger everyday, Alex mused.

He sat up and looked at the clock on the wall. He'd only been asleep for about thirty minutes, they hadn't even eaten dinner yet. They'd waited for him. Alex felt guilt clench in his stomach and he stood up quickly, letting the black tee shirt he'd lain under his arm fall to the ground.

He'd forgotten about the cuts.

"I thought you should probably come down for some dinner Alex."

Alex nodded and moved to his draw to grab his hoodie, praying that George hadn't seen the gashes on his arm. The room was only half lit, the curtains were open and a beam of light split the room in two. Alex reached to open his drawer and his arm rested in the light for a few moments, his cuts clearly visible.

He pulled his arm out of the light quickly and glanced fearfully at George, whose gaze was still fixed on the spot Alex's arm had been a moment earlier.

"Alexander..."

George's voice was sharp and crystal clear now, a world away from the usual gruff, amused tones he spoke with to Martha, Lafayette and Alex.

Alex jumped and turned to face him, his hand reaching not so subtly to cover his cuts.

"What are those on your arm?"

Alex stiffened and said nothing, his heart was pounding in his chest, he couldn't move. His legs had become lead weights.

George walked a few steps forward and Alex backed up, trying to put more distance between himself and his foster father.

"N-nothing. I'm fine."

George shook his head slowly, his face disbelieving and concerned. He walked forward again, doing his best to appear calm and non threatening as he reached out to gently take Alex's arm.

Alex flinched somewhat but didn't struggle against George's loose grip. He let his foster father examine the cuts of his wrist for a moment before dropping his arm and fixing the boy with a piercing stare.

"You did this?"

Alex snorted, though there was no amusement in his tone, "what does it look like?"

He bit his tongue, already regretting his words and started at the ground, awaiting the blow he was sure would land on his face any second.

When nothing happened he dared to look up at George and saw his eyes were full of sadness and concern.

"Alex... I- when did this start?"

Alexander shuffled slightly and fixed his gaze on George's collar.

"Since I was thirteen."

He heard George take a slow breath and took to opportunity to pull on his hoodie quickly, relaxing when he felt the thick material settle over his forearm, covering the red slashes.

"They were still bleeding Alexander."

He winced at the sound of his full name said in that tone and shrugged, not having quite mustered the courage to talk properly. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

George rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly at a loss for what to do.

"You should eat something now and we can bandage them and talk later."

Alex nodded numbly and shuffled out of the room behind George, his hand clenched tight on his forearm which was still stinging painfully.

Alex could already hear the low hum of chatter and the clink of cutlery in the kitchen below. They'd obviously started eating, which he had no problem with, he just felt bad he'd made George waste his time.

Martha looked up to George as they entered and a look passed between them. She raised her eyebrows inquisitively and he shook his head slightly and cleared his throat.

"Later." He murmured, as he passed behind her to grab a glass from the kitchen cupboard.

Alex slid into his seat next to Lafayette and the French teen nudged him conspiratorially.

"Alexandre, qu'est qui se passe?"

Alexander, what's going on?

He kept his eyes on the plate in front of him and awkwardly tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

"George as vu les coupures, ce n'est pas important."

George saw the cuts. It's not important

Lafayette gaped at him, his eyes wide, "merde, Alex, ils seront fous!"

Shit, Alex, they'll be mad.

Alex buried his head into his hands, "je sais, je sais... j'ai tout baiser."

I know, I know, I fucked up.

Lafayette grasped Alex shoulder and shook his head frantically, "non, not because of that! Because-"

At that moment George sat back down at the table and Alexander looked up, settling back into his seat properly. Lafayette was cut off and looked pleadingly at Alex, as though trying to silently communicate with him.

Dinner was a quiet affair that evening, Alex barely registered what he was eating. Well, to be more accurate, what he was pushing around his plate.

He was dimly aware of George and Martha trying to start a conversation but couldn't muster more than a brief nod or shrug.

The panic in his gut was seizing him in an iron grip, there was a ringing in his ears and he could see the fork in his hand trembling.

Dinner ended far too soon. Alexander's near full plate was scraped clean into the garbage disposal and Martha stacked the empty plates and glasses next to the sink.

George stood up from his seat at the table and cleared his throat.

"Gil... Alex, Martha and I need to talk about something. Do you want to go to your room?"

It was phrased as a question but Alexander knew it was a command by the way George's stare fixed on his son and the nod he directed towards the door when he finished speaking.

Lafayette, to Alex's great surprise shook his head and moved towards Alexander, gently reaching out to take his hand.

"Gil," Martha's voice was gentle but firm, "this is not up to you. This is between Alex, George and me."

Lafayette moved even closer to Alex and the latter leant into the touch, glad to have a comforting presence there. If only he had John here right now...

"Laf can... Laf can stay." . Alex choked out, not making eye contact with anyone in the kitchen. What was the harm? He already knew about all of this.

He looked up to see George nodding and Martha looking between the three males.

"I still don't understand what's going on George."

She placed a gentle hand on her husband's shoulder and looked up at him, her eyes full of agitated concern.

George sighed and looked at Alex, who fiddled with his hoodie sleeve. Martha walked the few steps towards him and gently put her arm around his shoulders, hugging him close while Lafayette kept his grip on the teenager's hand.

"Alex, honey, is everything okay?"

Alexander looked at George desperately, not knowing how to explain the situation or able to muster up the courage to say anything at all.

"Alex, you could show her your arm."

Martha's eyes creased in confusion and looked curiously at Alex. The boy turned to look at Laf who held him tighter and let go of his hand so he could pull back the sleeve of his hoodie.

He didn't quite reveal the extent of the cuts along his arm, just showing the first few gashes so she knew what they were. Martha didn't gasp or cry out, she remained actually quite calm, but Alex could tell she was horrified.

"I saw them just before dinner." George had sat down at the table and was rubbing his face with his hand, as though in utter despair and confusion as what to do.

Martha still hadn't said a word but was now at the cabinet, pulling band aids from the top shelf. She hastened back to Alex, who carefully pulled his sleeve back again and let her tend to his cuts.

Lafayette guided Alex back to the table and sat him down gently, whispering to him in French under his breath.

George looked from Alex to Lafayette, his eyes narrowed.

"Gilbert, did you know about this?"

Lafayette looked up, his expression scared for the first time. He fiddled with his ponytail and nodded.

"How long have you known?"

Martha was next to them now, a mug of tea in her hand which she slid across the table to Alex. He wrapped his hands around it, warming them and took a tentative sip

"Uh... un mois?" Lafayette responded, knowing full well George wouldn't understand him.

"Gilbert, English with us please. As I have said before."

For the first time Alex had known him, he actually looked slightly angry. His jaw was set in a way that Alex was all to familiar with when it came to foster fathers and his eyes were impatient.

"A month..."

Lafayette's voice was meek and subdued, sounding so different from the usual excitable tones Alexander was used to.

Martha's face was stony and George's fist was clenched tightly, the dark skin of his knuckles light with the tension there.

"A month Gilbert? You've known for a month?"

Lafayette said nothing and stared down at his hand, his other arm still latched around Alexander's shoulders.

"Papa I-"

George was on his feet now, his posture stiff and his eyes furious.

"It's nearly October now Gilbert, you've known for a month," his voice rose to a near yell now, "and you didn't think once to tell me?"

Lafayette was stood up now and his face was a mixture of defiance and shame.

"I didn't tell you because-"

George held out his hand, it was trembling slightly in anger and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

"I don't want to hear it Gilbert! You've known that Alexander's been doing this for a month! You didn't think to try and stop it! Is there anything else you've been keeping from me?"

If Alex hadn't been so terrified, George's anger would have been awe inspiring. His yell seemed to fill the entire room, reverberating off the kitchen walls. Lafayette was standing directly in front of his father now, he looked slightly ashamed of himself but not in the least bit scared.

Alex wanted to jump up and defend him, put himself as a barrier between his friend and this man, this man he had trusted but now appeared to be just as much of a threat as any foster father of his had been.

Martha had moved to stand beside George, attempting to calm him down and placing a hand on his forearm.

Lafayette was yelling in French, his flurry of words almost too fast for Alex to make out.

"Maybe if you'd actually paid any attention around here you'd have realised! Instead of leaving me, the fifteen year old, to deal with this mess! It isn't even remotely my fault you spend so much time working on the fucking Senate campaign you don't know what's going on in your own goddamn house!"

Alex clapped his hand to his mouth and looked from George to Lafayette in horror. George threw a quick glance at him, his eyes narrowed with anger and his voice took on a ominous, low growl.

"Gilbert! For the very last time, English!"

George had taken a step forward but Lafayette wasn't deterred.

"Okay! Sure, a quick translation then!"

Lafayette's voice was more frantic know, cracking slightly but edged with a pervading fury.

"It's not my fault you have no idea what's going on in your own house! Yeah, sure, it's fair to leave the fifteen year old responsible for every burden that comes his way!"

Alex buried his face in his hands and felt his breathing quicken. He was just a burden on Lafayette. He was the reason this whole argument had started! He could feel Martha at his side but the yelling from his foster brother and father hadn't yet ceased.

She was rubbing slow circles into his back, whispering soothingly as the argument went on.

"Merde! What was I supposed to do? I freaked out!"

Lafayette and George were standing directly in front of each other, George's considerable stature towered over Lafayette, but he was not deterred. He only squared his shoulders and scowled up at his foster father.

"Gilbert! I expect better of you, if your brother is physically harming himself, it's common sense for you to tell us!"

"Jesus Christ! Aren't you listening to me? I said-"

Alex couldn't hear what Martha was saying over the yelling, he could just feel the panic overwhelming him. This was bad. It was never good when adults got angry, especially foster parents. George was going to hurt him. Hurt him. Hurt him-

But he deserved it! Didn't he? Lafayette was arguing for him, he was innocent in all of this! He wasn't the one who'd been cutting his own flesh every other night.

He was hyperventilating now, he could faintly hear Martha trying to say something, but her voice was lost in the mess of yelled words flying around the room.

He looked briefly up at her, his eyes even larger than usual with tears. Martha put her arm around him now, feeling his breathing getting faster and shallower by the second.

Alexander could feel his vision start to blur, he was going to pass out if he couldn't calm down soon. But how could he? Lafayette and George were still yelling at each other, the former's voice taking on a more desperate and frustrated tone.

He felt his shoulders slump forward as he briefly fainted, now only Martha's arm was holding him up, stopping him from collapsing forward onto the table.

Martha next to him stiffened and a voice louder and clearer than either George or Lafayette's yelled out amidst the verbal melee, silencing everyone immediately.

"SHUT UP!"

He had never expected such a yell to come from someone so tiny and kind, but now her face was livid and she was staring at her husband and son in a loss for words. She shook her head at them in disappointment before turning back to Alex and letting his head lean into her shoulder.

"One, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five."

Lafayette and George where stock still, eyes fixed on Alex's trembling shoulders. Guilt and shame working its way onto both their faces.

Alex didn't count along with her but gradually allowed his breathing to mirror her calm voice.

After a minute or so of this continued before Alex had the strength to sit up in his chair and take slow sips of his tea.

Martha stood up and walked over to George and Lafayette, fixing them both with a piercing stare.

"And you talk abut not knowing what's going on in his own house Gilbert!"

Lafayette winced and nodded, throwing extremely apologetic looks Alexander's way.

"And George, you're an adult. You should know better than having screaming matches like this. Especially when Alex is in the room."

Alex cringed at this. He supposed it was obvious why he didn't like adults getting angry and yelling around him, but he didn't really like people mentioning it.

George looked shame faced and nodded, moving away from Lafayette to sit at the table next to Martha.

Alex decided this was as good a time as any to speak up.

"I... I asked Laf not to say anything to you."

Martha looked at Lafayette who nodded slowly.

"Why didn't you want us to know?" George was considerabley calmer now, his hand was still shaking with adrenaline but his voice was steady.

Alexander looked to Lafayette, remembering the conversation they'd had.

"Ils sont éveillé."

Alex's eyes suddenly widened and he gripped Lafayette's bicep.

"Laf, please, don't tell George and Martha. Please, they'll kick me out. They'll be so mad, please Laf."

He looked so frightened that Lafayette embraced him again.

"Mon ami, I will not tell them. Though if I did, they would not kick you out or be mad. However, I will keep the secret."

Neither Alex or Lafayette said anything however and sat silently, making knowing eye contact.

George raised his eyebrows expectantly and Alex decided to tell the truth.

"I've been kicked out of two homes before because of... that. I didn't know how you'd react."

Martha glared at George for a moment, furious that he'd made Alex's fears partially come true.

She reached forward and gently took Alex's hand in hers.

"We're not going to make you leave because of this. We're not angry either, you can tell us this stuff without worrying how we'll react."

Alex nodded and smiled weakly, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"I- can I go to bed?"

George and Martha nodded and Alex stood up. Lafayette made to come with him but Martha sighed.

"Oh no, you are not getting off that easily."

Her son frowned and sat back down, folding his arms moodily.

Alex turned to leave the kitchen and walked up the stairs. He'd reached the upstairs landing when he realised George was behind him.

"I uh... I can't let you keep whatever you use Alexander."

Of course. Alex felt his stomach drop but he nodded numbly and walked into his room, retrieving the small metal tin. He handed it to George, his eyes on the ground, silent.

His foster father put the tin in his pocket and held his arms out, asking if he could hug Alex.

Alex nodded and they embraced for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry Alex. I shouldn't have allowed that argument to even start. It was childish of me."

Alex shrugged, "it's okay. Thanks for... well, everything really."

George nodded slightly and suddenly grinned. It was a welcome transformation from the anger he'd displayed just a few minutes ago.

"We'll work this out Alex, you're strong."

His voice was gruff again but it held a certain warmth and well, George-ness that was inexplicably comforting to Alexander.

"Thank you."

They stood there, in front of each other for a moment. The hallway was dark and quiet. Through the blinds filtered white light onto Alex's face in neat, geometric stripes.

George smiled once more and walked back downstairs, leaving Alex stood in the half light on the landing.

When George walked back into the kitchen Martha and Gilbert were sitting silently at the table across from each other, both looking quite angry but both for different reasons.

George decided to sit next to Martha, sensing Gilbert still wasn't best pleased with him.

"I'm disappointed in both of you."

Martha's voice was exasperated and angered.

"You should know better than to argue like that in front of Alex, that was the worst I've ever seen him. He all but fainted."

George closed his eyes and regret tore through him. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid.

"Gilbert, why did you make those remarks about George's work?"

Lafayette looked up at George for a second and shrugged.

"C'est ne pas juste, mais, I didn't fully mean it. Cependant, I don't think it's fair I should have so much pressure on me. I'm the same age as Alex, it was hard to know what to do."

He was mixing his French and English together again but George felt it would be unwise to comment, considering the argument they'd just had.

"But why didn't you tell us Alex told you not to say anything?"

Lafayette sighed and rubbed his face, "I didn't want it to seem like I was blaming him. He was obviously panicking, aussi, he didn't ask me to start an argument. It was fair I left him out of it."

George felt his heart swell with pride at his son's empathy and selflessness. He smiled slightly and caught Martha's eye who also looked quite impressed.

When this mutual feeling of parental satisfaction died down however, Martha frowned at George, obviously still angry at him.

"Aside from that, George. What the hell were you thinking!"

He winced and felt remorse flood his insides. He pictured Alex's limp frame against Martha and heard his shaky breaths. He'd been so stupid...

"You know how that kind of thing affects him, I thought you'd be a bit more careful!"

George grimaced and nodded.

"I know, I know, I just couldn't stand the thought he'd been doing that for so long even when someone who cared about him knew. Obviously I see now it's not really Gilbert's fault at all."

He took the tin out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

"I asked him for what he used and he gave me this. I didn't think it was right to let him keep it."

Martha picked up the tin and rattled it, hearing thin metal clattering inside. She didn't dare open it.

"What do we do? Gil, do John or Hercules know?"

Lafayette shook his head, "I don't think they do."

Martha fiddled with a curl.

"Does he need therapy? Does he need medication?"

George thought for a second.

"I don't know but I'd say it's worth taking him to a physicist and- oh. Gilbert, I think its time you went to bed. This conversation should be between your mother and I."

He had thought Lafayette would protest, that he would kick up a fuss, noramlly he was intransigent and stubborn in these situations, but the boy's maturity surprised him. He nodded gravely and hugged Martha tightly before nodding to George and turning out of the room.

George all at once felt such nostalgia for the boy he'd raised for the last four years. He was a man now, a good, capable one at that.

They listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall and George put his head in his hands.

"I expect better from you in the future George."

She sounded like a disappointed teacher or parent, but he nodded again gravely.

"Its just... We couldn't do anything about Charles Lee and George Frederick, we can't do anything to whoever's abused Alex because he won't say a word about it, we couldn't help him when he was self harming here, in this house! The Senate campaign is stressing me out too. Lee is making things difficult, again. Last week he tried to spread a rumour that I wasn't a U.S. citizen or some bull like that. It's just racism, the same as Obama."

Martha sat next to him and gently rubbed his shoulder.

"We'll prove them wrong, you'll win and I'll get my position as an assistant district attorney."

They looked at each other for a long moment before Martha leant in to kiss him softly,

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"But you acted like a ten year old today."

George laughed and rubbed his head sheepishly.

"Shall I look for psychiatrists in the area?" He asked, his voice steady now.

"Yeah. Don't give them much detail before we know enough about them though, just find a good one."

"I will."

Martha was rinsing off their dinner plates at the and stacking their glasses up in the cupboard.

George moved to help her and she rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. They stayed like that for a while, only the quiet and rhythmic beat of the tap dripping softly in the background.

Okay, some fluff kinda. But no one knows about Lee and George... oh no!