Author's Note: Okay so I just wanted to make a few things clear before we dive into the story. This is a reincarnation fic. I don't think I'm going to do any gender swapping, but I am doing some mild name changes for the characters. This is going to happen during college years so I'm making Alexander, John, Lafayette, Hercules, and Eliza freshmen. Aaron, Madison, Jefferson, and Angelica are sophomores. Peggy is a high school senior. Washington will be the history professor and debate club advisor. King George will be in this fic, not sure where yet, but no he is not evil. A dick probably, but not evil. Now that's out of the way I will advise you that this will have mature content and language, you've been warned. And finally, I do not own anything by the work of Lin Manuel Miranda, I'm borrowing historical characters, and the plot line is mine. Enjoy!

~Alexander Hamilton~

"Then a hurricane came, and devastation reigned, our man saw his future drip, dripping down the drain. Put a pencil to his temple, connected it to his brain and he wrote his first refrain, a testament to his pain."

The breeze of a New York fall shifted the air around him. Leaves danced at his feet as his hair tried to fly away on the wind but was held firm in his hair tie. Looking around he took in the not so distant sight of the large looming skyscrapers and sounds of traffic that defined New York from anywhere else. Yes, this state was unlike any other, but New York City itself? It might as well be a different planet entirely. A city always awake, always on the go, always improving, always…always rising up! A place that seemed made for him and somewhere, for the first time, he felt he could actually make a life for himself in. Mainly because in many ways there was nothing here that even held the slightest trace of familiarity of his first home. And what had been left after the disaster of said home, both physically and emotionally. He still remembered the hurricane. Six years later and the nightmares about that one horrible night are just as vivid as ever.

*Flashback*

The island of Nevis was just a tiny speck of place in the Caribbean, barely enough of a spot to warrant tourism like the bigger islands. St. Croix was a small town, it was a place of a population which numbered around three thousand and where people knew each other well. People didn't have much there as poverty was rampant and the school system was hardly worthy of such a name, but it did its best and the children knew how to read, write, and do basic math. Those who wanted to learn more had to learn from someone else, relatives or tutors. The former being limited by said person's own intelligence and the latter a rarity given the poor economy. It was a burden for those who were too intelligent and yet couldn't afford a better education.

Alexander Hathaway was one such boy. He read more and wrote faster than the other children in his neighborhood and people noticed. "Crazy" they called him and "Insane" just because he wanted to know as much as he could. And his mother wanted that for him too. His mother had been a beautiful woman, smart too, and had been married to his father up until the bastard left them when Alex was just six years old. His mother had to take on two jobs just for them to get by and, as rumor had it, slept around to make any extra money. They called her a whore and Alex, even as a child, had gotten into fist fights with any kid who dared call her that in front of him. His mother was his hero, teaching him French even when she was exhausted from working all day. He loved her and to him she was the world.

Then she got sick when he was only twelve. The local doctor, Dr. Powell, had diagnosed her with cancer when Alex was only eleven. He told them that the cancer had developed too quickly for treatment to cure it and that she didn't have more than a year at most. It was the only time Alex had ever seen his mother cry. She was a strong woman who took whatever life threw at her and brushed it off. She hadn't cried when her husband had left her, not when she lost her job at one of the few stores the town offered, and had remained dry eyed whenever people openly insulted her about her lot in life. So, seeing her sob into her hands at the news devastated him. It made him feel utterly helpless to know he wouldn't be able to save the one person who loved him. Alex thought his life couldn't get any worse.

Then the hurricane came knocking at the island's door not even seven months later. No one had been prepared for the ruin it would bring. The rain fell in buckets from the sky and caused the ocean to rise and flood the streets. The wind was loud and even with the windows and doors closed it made no difference. Alex spent the night huddled in his mother's bed as water came into the apartment. His mother had been bedridden for about a month as she was so weak. But even as sick and exhausted as she was, she still wrapped her arms around him, murmuring soothing words in both Spanish and French trying to sooth him. It reminded him of when he was still small and she would tell him stories to chase away nightmares.

It was when the eye of the hurricane passed over the island did her words fade entirely. For just a moment there was nothing but silence. No rain thrashing against the roof, no wind howling at the door, but there was no sound from his mother either. Alex wasn't stupid. He knew even as he screamed for her to wake up, still wrapped in her final embrace that she would never wake up again. He was alone for the first time in his life.

Then the rest of the storm came, but he didn't even notice as he screamed through his tears.

The aftermath of the hurricane was the worst time of his life, but it also had brought him an opportunity he never had dared to dream of. With any storm of course came news reporters from the mainland wanting to squeeze out any kind of story they could. It had been one such reporter that had approached Alex as he sat on the rubble that used to be the small food store where he bought the meager groceries they could afford. He had been writing in a notebook his mother had gifted him on his tenth birthday, one he treasured and only wrote important things in, when a woman held a voice recorder to his face.

"Hey kid! Anything to say about the storm? What's your story?" she asked.

He looked up at her for a moment, his face felt numb. Well, he had felt numb all over since his mother was buried. He held up one finger to her as he focused back on the paper, his pen dancing across the page. When he had finished, he tore it out carefully and gave it to her. The woman looks confused but took the page. He watched as her eyes scrolled down the paper and were wide by the end of it.

"Did you write all of this? By yourself?" her voice held a tone of disbelief and wonder. He only nodded. "Do you mind if we use this for our paper? We'll give you full credit for it if you do, this is what we've come here looking for."

Frankly he didn't care as the letter she held in her hand was something he meant to burn later anyway. It was a letter to his father, one never meant to be sent even if he knew where to send it, that explained his life since he left. The hardships of his mother, the harshness of reality shown so often to a small child, and of course capping it all off with the storm and its damage. It was his life summed up in a letter practically telling his father not to come back. It was too late now. Of course it was what reporters like her were looking for, stories to twist and manipulate into some sob story for people to read over their morning breakfast. Why not let her have it? No one would remember it later anyways. She probably was just in disbelief that a boy of twelve knew such words and could spin them to his liking.

Alex stood from the debris with his notebook in hand and nodded once again to her as he turned to leave. Before he had gotten far the woman reached for his arm.

"Wait! I need to know. What's your name kid?"

He didn't even look at her. "Alexander Hathaway. My name is Alexander Hathaway."

And that one interaction sent everything in motion. Hardly a week after the reporter had talked to him that he was told he would be sent to the mainland to be put into the foster system. That had punched him in the gut. He always dreamed of leaving St. Croix and making a name for himself elsewhere, but the foster system?! The hellish stories passed around by the other children on the island made him shiver. It was true that he had a grandparent that once came from America before winding up here on the island, but it was shocking that that one connection gave him a pass to enter the country. Still, what kind of future could an orphaned immigrant have in the American foster system?

Apparently, the islanders thought the same thing. Two days before he was to be sent off on a boat his old neighbor, Ms. Delany, had brought him a thick envelope. Inside was more money than Alex had ever seen! He had questioned her about it with shocked eyes and if they were a little watery, she didn't comment on it.

"For your future Alexander. That was collected from everyone. You go get your education and make something of yourself young man, it's what your mother would have wanted. But don't forget where you came from, you hear me?"

Without thinking he threw his arms around the woman's middle and squeezed. That was the one and only hug he had ever given anyone who wasn't his mother.

The day he left the island, as he stood on the boat, he looked over the island that had been his world his whole life. It looked so small now that he was leaving. Only when the boat pulled away and the island was lost from his sight did he turn away, looking forwards. They would land in Florida and then a plane would take him to New York City where he be put into the foster program. He had been scared, but also excited.

Because in New York he could be a new man.

*End of Flashback*

Now here was standing in front of large iron gates surrounded by a low stone wall. It was the north entrance to the King's College campus, where he had been accepted on a scholarship. Six years of being bounced around more foster homes than he cared to count throughout the state and the short teen had finally gotten free. Free of the endless fake smiles, honest frowns, abusive words, and, more than often, abusive hands as well. Sure, some of the foster homes weren't nearly as bad as the old stories told on the island lead to believe, but one or two were even worse. The better homes were still filled with other kids who didn't understand him and wanted nothing to do with him, same for the adults in charge. The worst ones though, well, they had left scars. Mentally, physically, and emotionally they were there and would probably never go away.

Alex knew he was a smart person and never let anyone think otherwise. In school he knew his top-notch brain would be his ticket to achieving his dreams. And oh, the dreams he has, an immigrant making a difference by leaving his fingerprints on this country politically. With high goals in mind he always strived for perfection and when he did anything he always excelled. His skills with a pen and paper (and when the school had a good budget a computer and printer) were undeniable.

Of course, with all that knowledge and thirst to stand out came fights and confrontations. He got into arguments with teachers because he would point out their mistakes or make comments on better ways to do things. They of course didn't appreciate how he always went overboard with his homework or projects. But really? What was an extra page or two on an essay when he had so much to say? Well the teachers had issues with it, but it never stopped him from doing it again.

The other kids never liked him because he was so far ahead. Always reading chapters ahead in textbooks or even different books entirely if he finished the textbook. He had always had the homework done and ready to had in long before anyone else and his projects took top spot and grade. Then there were the bullies that would make fun of him for being so short, for his accent, for his tan skin color, for looking younger than he was, and for basically being not white and not American. He had to learn to fight quickly because he was never going to slow down for anyone else's sake. It wasn't his fault they were all so stupid.

Readjusting his backpack over his shoulder and the duffle bag in his hand he marched through the gates onto campus. First things first, he had to get to his dorm and settled into his room. The only problem was his acceptance letter hadn't come with a map of the large campus. And this particular college didn't really believe in pre term orientation. Nope, everything got explained first day of the semester in lieu of actual classes. Idiots. What moron was put in charge of freshmen orientation? Did no one bother to think that new students might not know where to go or who to talk to before hand? Looking around the sprawling grounds he noticed a table set up on the lawn to his left. It was set out under a large red canopy tent with signs saying 'NEW STUDENTS REGISTRATION'. Well then. Problem solved somewhat. Maybe someone at the administration level wasn't a complete idiot. He turned and headed over.

"Excuse me." He said as he came to stand in front of one of the tables, they were in alphabetical order, and this one had 'H' hanging off the front. The guy standing there looked to be a few years older than himself. Probably an upperclassman. He was tall, much taller than himself and twice as wide with muscle. He assumed the upperclassman was a sports player. "I'm looking for my dorm, but I don't know where it is."

The guy, his name tag easier to see now that he was closer read 'Jackson', smiled. "Hey no problem, that's what I'm here for. Can I get your name?" he smiled at Alex as he picked up a clipboard full of names.

"Hathaway. Alexander Hathaway."

Jackson ran down the list and eventually checked something off. "Alright Alex it looks like you're in the Franklin Quad dorm. It's on the west side of campus."

"Okay, which way to the west side?" Alex asked as he turned and tried to figure it out by the sun's position.

Jackson just smiled. "We actually have a student advisor here to guide you to your dorm. Lucky for you most of the other students arrived in the last two days so he'll be free to help you at your own pace. He's a sophomore so he'll know where to take you and you can ask any questions. He's right over there."

Looking to where Jackson was pointing, Alex saw another guy. This one looked to be his age, but of course taller. He had dark skin and hair that was so closely shaved to his head he almost looked bald.

"His name is Aaron Burns, he'll take care of you. Oh, and welcome to King's College!" he bid Alex goodbye as he turned to the next person to make their way over to the table.

Alex moved away and made his way over to his guide to be. The guy, Aaron, had his back to him as he talked to a girl with curly hair and a bright smile. Alex stepped up behind him and tapped his shoulder.

"Pardon me. Are you Aaron Burns, sir?"

Author's Note: Alright so that's it for my first chapter! Let me know what you think of the introduction to what I know is a grand adventure for Alexander Hathaway. If you have any questions or have a comment, please leave a review. I hope to have my next chapter out by Wednesday. Thanks for reading!

Final Edit 5/15/18