Disclaimer: I own nothing of Hamilton. All rights go to Lin-Manuel Miranda.

Alexander POV

Alexander's father had always hated Jews. Despised them. Filth, he would sneer. Absolute filth. Worst specimen of humans out there.

He claimed that they stole all of his business away from him, but then again, Alexander hardly knew any Jews who were farmers. But again, his father also hated Nazis. He was incredibly angry that they had sectioned off such a large area of town, just for Jewish people.

Alexander tried to tell him that it wasn't like they wanted to live there; they were forced to, but he never listened to him anyway. Alexander couldn't see why he hated Jewish people. They were still people, they just believed in certain things that some people did not. His father was a very harsh, opinionated, and cruel person.

His mother on the other hand, was a saint. She loved everyone, despite what they believed in. Despite their race or gender. His mother was so good inside and his father so bad, that most of the time, he wondered why she ever had married him.

Alexander speculated that he used to be different. Not so full of so many negative and hateful opinions. She used to tell him stories about what he used to be like, before he was a monster.

"He was so kind and thoughtful, Alexander. He treated me like I was royalty." She stared off into space, as if she was in another world.

He could not resist asking. "And then what happened?" She sighed and looked away, leaving his question unanswered. That question would haunt him. How could his father change so drastically, according to what his mother had said. The question still remained unanswered. It always remained unanswered.

She never liked to talk about these things anymore. There was pain in her eyes. It was faint, very difficult to see, but it was there nonetheless. Alexander knew that his mother wanted to leave his father, but she never would, nor could.

His mother didn't work, that was the main reason. She didn't have a very good education, she had left school at a very early age to marry Alexander's father. But besides from that, she was just so… empty. It was like his father had drained the life out of her. She would just nod when asked to do something, and when asked a question, shake her head no, or nod her head yes.

Since he could no longer talk to his mother, and there was no way he would want to talk to his father, he turned to writing. He wrote down anything he could. Stories, letters, journal entries, anything to keep his mind off of the war going on outside the four walls of his bedroom.

Alexander had graduated school, so he couldn't even do his schoolwork to distract himself, so he continued to write. Day after day, night after night, hour after hour. Alexander only really came out of his room when his mother made him food.

He and his mother would eat together, while his father would take his meals in his study and wait for my mother to collect his dishes. When Alexander thought about it too much he hated him. He really hated him. Alexander was also almost positive that his father hit his mother.

The fear in her eyes when his father got angry at he. Alexander clenched his hand into a fist and tried not to think about that anymore. The days had strung together since he had started holing himself up in his room all day, and he expected them to continue as such. The same day, over and over again. The same boring, boring life.

It was the same boring routine. About noon. He and his mother were eating potato stew, all that they could afford with wartime rations, when an extremely loud and fast knock sounded at the door. Alexander and his mother froze, for fear of it being Nazis at the door. His father had made it extremely clear that no one answer the door apart from the man of the house.

Please, Alexander had thought at the time. He is not a man. If he were a man he would protect his family. Not curl up into a ball and hide like a child. He is a defenseless coward. Nothing but a coward.

But at that moment, he couldn't think of that. Fear curled its way up his spine. They would break down the door, destroy their house, and maybe even abduct them. What if they would steal any of their possessions? Or take their entire house, for that matter?

He had heard rumours of families being kicked out of their houses to make new soldier's quarters. About ten seconds went by with the house being completely still, and they thought that the threat was over then. Bu then the knocking came again. Faster. Louder. Almost more… urgent?

He heard his father's angry footsteps come down the hall. He was muttering something unintelligible under his breath, a string of curse words and insults were the most likely. This would be fun. He opened the door a crack, and he was so disturbing looking, it actually was quite chilling. A small feminine voice came from outside the door. It sounded scared, desperate even. Alexander made out a:

"Hello sir, I'm so sorry to intrude but I am in dire need of help, if I could just speak to you inside for a momen-" The girl was cut off by his father. This was the wrong man to ask for help from.

"I don't take in strangers off the street. Get off my porch. Now." He seethed. Alexander stood up from his chair then, hoping to get a glimpse without the girl seeing him looking.

He peered around his father's shoulders from afar, and finally caught sight of her. It was hard to make out her face from so far away, but he could see a few details.

Her hair was dark brown, she had a round face with prominent cheekbones, and she was very, very thin. As if she hadn't eaten in days. Maybe she hadn't. She started to speak again, her voice quivering and the look in her eyes was heart breaking.

"Please sir, I just escaped from the Jewish ghetto.. and they're coming for me… I.. just allow me inside for a few moments please.. to hide myself…"

So the girl was a Jewish escapee. That certainly explained quite a bit. The urgency. The desperation. Alexander was so moved, the girl seemed willing to do anything to hide herself. Alexander's father seemed just on the edge of flying into a rage. Just the tiniest shift. Even more so now that he knew she was Jewish.

"I will not allow stupid Jewish filth inside my house. Get away!" He said very firmly, standing up straighter to make himself appear much bigger than he was. Even his own son was taller than him.

The tears started rolling down the girl's face. Her voice was breaking, cracking, pleading. It was horrible to look at, and he wished he could do something.

"Please sir.. they'll… they'll kill me.. please." She begged.

And that was the shift. His father flew into a rage, it seemed that there was even smoke steaming from his ears. "AND THE WORLD WILL BE BETTER WITHOUT YOU! GET AWAY OR I'LL CALL THEM BY THE TRUCKLOAD TO PUT A BULLET THROUGH YOUR HEAD!" He screamed so loud that the dishes on the table rattled.

The girl looked terrified. She ran off the porch, eyes panicking. His father slammed the door, and marched down the hallway to his study. Once he was out of sight, Alexander walked quickly over to his mother, worry in his eyes and hers.

Her kind eyes seemed as if she was thinking about something deeply. She put her hand on his arm. "Go." She said softly, and in that instant, he completely understood. He raced out the side door of the kitchen and over to the mill that they never used anymore.

He pulled at the heavy steel door as hard as he could and it slowly unwillingly opened with a low rumbling noise. Alexander turned to see if he could find the girl. She was standing in the middle of the road eyes closed, waiting for something he couldn't see. Why was she just standing in plain sight? Was she daft?

He called to her as loud as he dared. "Hey!" She looked over at him, her expression desperate, yet unreadable at the same time. She stayed frozen, looking at him. Was she stupid?

"Get over here!" he called, beckoning her over. "Do you want to survive, or not?" He lashed without thinking. Oops. He didn't want to scare the girl, she already seemed shaken to her very core. But his sharp tone had done its job. She snapped out of her trance and ran over to him and into the mill, stumbling, off balance, as she had one large boot on, but the other one missing.

She dashed into the mill and collapsed on the dirt floor. Panting, eyes wide. She really was terrified. Maybe the girl thought that Alexander would turn her in, for money or food or anything. But Alexander wasn't that kind of person. He was kind, loving and trustworthy. He would never even think of doing something cruel. He realized, that he was the exact opposite of his father.

He tried to make his tone as gentle and sincere as possible, while still being firm. "Stay put and still, okay? I won't tell." She nodded her head very slightly and curled up into a tighter ball. Alexander looked into the darkness, sighed, and then closed the door.

He looked down the road, and a few doors down, three German trucks idled while a Nazi was talking to an older man in the front yard. The older man had such a look of fear in his eyes, and it pained Alexander to see someone looking so scared. Alexander went into a rush, trying to make it seem like he was just doing regular yard work.

The trucks went to every house on the street, then inevitably stopped at the Hamilton dwelling. A stone faced Nazi walked out of the truck, eyes searching the property for any sign of suspicion, and Alexander tried his best to stroll casually over to him. On the inside, he was screaming.

"We are sorry to bother you, but has a teenage girl come by this way? She has escaped from the ghetto and we need her back immediately." The Nazi spoke in such a monotone voice, that Alexander wondered if he had ever been able to show expression in his voice.

Alexander tried to make his voice sound strong and confident. It was so hard to lie when you were scared.

"Yes. But she ran right past here. I believe she was headed for Bielsko-Biala. I heard that there are a large group of Jews taking refuge there." He spoke mechanically. He only said this because he knew for a fact that there were no Jewish people whatsoever living in that area. It had been completely evacuated.

There was a beat of silence in which he panicked, fearing that he would not believe him. The Nazi's eyes seemed to be boring into his own. But of course in a haunting monotone voice, he answered.

"Thank you for your information. Good bye." Yes, a very good bye. Alexander thought to himself. The Nazi trudged through the muddy grass of the front yard and into the dented truck with the mark of the evil black swastika. Both the officer and the truck driver looked at each other for a moment, said something that Alexander couldn't make out, and drove down the road.

Alexander waited a few moments, until they were out of sight to check on the girl. When it was clear that no one was coming down this lonely, quiet road, he walked slowly to the mill, and wrenched the doors open. In the shadows sat a trembling girl. She lifted her head to look at him, and though she didn't speak, her eyes said everything. They said a million things that couldn't even be put into words. Her eyes said thank you. Her eyes showed endless gratitude. Alexander bent down to go sit next to the girl, but when he sat beside her, she flinched away from him. She thought that she couldn't trust him. Alexander tried to comfort her.

"It's okay. You're safe, and I'm not going to tell, okay?"

The girl opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it lightning fast before any sound could come out. She hid her face in her knees. No response. Alexander tried again to get a response.

"I won't hurt you okay? We're going to make sure that you're safe. That no one will find you here. I'm Alexander. Can you tell me your name?"

She didn't move.

Alexander knew that this was hopeless. The girl needed someone who she could talk to. Someone like his mother. His mother.

"I'm going to get my mother." He said bluntly, and the girl's head shot up like a rocket, panic in her eyes, and a terrified gasp came out of her mouth.

"No, no." He said quickly. "My mother knows about you. She told me to come and help you. She's very kind, don't worry."

She nodded, and her hand sunk back to her knees with a soft thud. Alexander exited the mill, closed the metal door, and walked into the house. Once he closed the door to the house, his mother rushed up to him, worry in her eyes.

"I saw the trucks." She whispered. "Where's the girl? Did they take her?" Alexander had never seen her so distressed.

"It's okay, Ma. She's in the mill. The trucks came for her, but I led them on a false trail. I doubt they'll be back." He spoke quickly and quietly, not wanting his father to overhear.

"Oh thank the Lord." She breathed. "Did you talk to her at all? What's her name?"

Alexander explained it then. "That's the problem Ma. She wouldn't say anything to me. I think that she thinks that I'm going to hurt her or turn her in, so I need you to go and talk to her."

His mother didn't hesitate. "I'll go. Hold on, I'll need blankets, food, and water-"

"Ma, you're just going to talk to her. Why do you need all of that stuff?" He was so confused.

"Dear, we have to show her that she can trust us. Which reminds me. You are not, under any circumstances, to tell your father about any of this."

"I wasn't planning on it." He responded.

His mother had gathered up a seemingly endless supply of biscuits, two jars of water, five blankets, and several pillows. She looked as if she was leaving for an expedition. In a way, he realized, she was.

She was just about to walk out the door when he remembered something.

"Ma wait." He ran to get the gas lantern from his room. "Here," he said. "It's dark in there." His mother nodded, walked out the door and into the mill, closing the door behind her.

Alexander quickly came up with a cover story if his father were to come down the hallway and notice his mother's absence. He took a sheet of paper from the kitchen counter and scribbled down a note for his father.

Father,

Mother had gone out on the usual bus to collect our food rations for the week. Once the bus had arrived, there seemed to be many more people than last week, so I suspect she will be absent for some time.

Alexander

Alexander placed the note on the table, and walked down the hallway, towards his room. He closed the door and let out a big sigh. He slid down the door, put his head into his hands, and just sat in that position for a while.

There was so much to process, and he hadn't even started to do so with any of it yet. He realized then, that the only way he would be able to process this, was to write everything down. Alexander pushed himself up from the ground, and walked over to his desk. He opened the cabinet door, and saw his row of untouched notebooks.

He went to go grab one, but hesitated. The notebooks were massive, but at the moment, he only had five more that were unused, and they could barely afford food, let alone notebooks. Eventually though, he decided that it was necessary to write about his extreme day.

He grabbed the sleek, smooth spine of the book and took it out of the cabinet. He laid it on his desk, opened it to the first page, and grabbed a pencil from the jar resting near the back of the desk. He started to write, and the feeling of letting out the bottled up emotions was amazing. He wrote, and wrote, and wrote.

He actually lost track of the time, because when he heard a knock at his bedroom door, he looked out of his window, and it was dark outside. He stood up and opened the door, and his mother walked into the room briskly, closing the door behind her.

She didn't even wait for him to acknowledge her before she started to speak.

"Her name is Eliza, she's twenty years old, she's lived in Krakow all of her life, but in the ghetto for one year. Her primary language is Polish, but she also speaks German and French."

She put her hand to rest on Alexander's arm.

"She's an incredibly sweet girl, Alexander."

Alexander was astonished. He had barely gotten the girl, Eliza, he corrected himself, to look at him, and his mother had gotten all of that. He voiced this to his mother. "How did you even get her to talk to you?"

"Well, she would barely even look at me when I first came into the mill. I sat down next to her, and firstly, gave her a jar of water. Her eyes widened, glanced over to me, and then back to the water. I said, It's okay, the water is yours to drink. She looked at me, and then turned to the water, and drank the entire jar in three gulps. She gave me a small smile once she had finished. She said in an almost inaudible voice, Thank you.

I asked her if she was hungry, and she spoke a bit louder this time, Yes, if it's not too much trouble. I handed her three biscuits, and she ate them so quickly. I asked her when and what she had eaten last and she said, I ate a watered down chicken broth two days ago.

I felt so much for her, and I told her that she could have as many biscuits as she wanted. She had eaten three more, and then she fell apart. She sobbed for such a long time, and I held her. She calmed down and then she told me everything. She trusted me, because I showed that I cared."

Alexander was a bit hurt. "And she did not trust me, because I did not show that I cared." He sighed.

"Oh, no child." His mother said quickly. "She feels awful that she did not speak to you, this is the reason I am inside now. I came to fetch you. Eliza wants to speak to you."

Alexander started to feel a little bit better about himself after he heard that this was so. "She wants to see… me?" He questioned, and then chuckled at his own uncertainty. "Okay, I'll go."

He exited his room, and walked to the closet where his coat was, and put the thin material around his shoulders. Just before walking out the door, he turned back to his mother. "Ma, are you sure that she wants to see me?" His mother put a hand on his shoulder and spoke reassuringly. "I was with her for hours, son. I'm positive that she would like to see you."

He nodded, and pulled open the faded wood door, stepped through it, and closed it behind him. He walked through the wet, muddy grass, and towards the old wooden mill. He peeked through a crack in the doors, and saw that the inside was no longer pitch black, but illuminated by a soft yellow glow, coming from the gas lantern, he expected. He opened the doors a little bit wider, and it seemed as though the mill had been transformed into a small bedroom. A makeshift bed sat at the rear corner. The bed seemed to be made out of multiple pillows as the base, followed by several blankets, with finally the largest pillow placed at the head of the bed.

He pushed the door open eager to see more, and saw Eliza crouched at the foot of the bed, spreading the blankets out smoothly. As he pushed the door farther open, a creak sounded, and she looked up startled. She saw his face, stood up, rushed over to him, and then collapsed on her knees in front of him, almost in tears.

She was mumbling, "Thank you so much, you saved my life… How can I ever repay you…? I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience…"

Alexander didn't feel worthy to have a person at his knees thanking him, so he bent down to her level and sat on the wood floor.

"I am not the person you should thank," He said. "Why don't we start over, agreed?" Eliza nodded her head and happily said, "Agreed." She stuck out her hand, expecting him to shake it. "Elizabeth Schuyler. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He surprised her to an insane degree when he took her outstretched hand and placed a light kiss on the top.

"Alexander Hamilton. The pleasure is all mine."

And they both shared a blush that put tomatoes to shame.

A/N: So, what did you guys think? Should the next chapter be from Alexander or Eliza's perspective? Let me know! I love you!