He's been battling with his identity for a while, but when he had told George he thought he was a boy he didn't see disappointment or disgust. He saw excitement, which is goddamn weird. He'd hugged him and asked him if there were any names he wanted to go by.

 

"I'm not sure," he had replied, shuffling his feet.

 

And now he's here, googling baby names for boys despite his embarrassment. None of the first few names that start with A call to him, as most trans men said they had. He's by Alek when he sees it, a few names down.

 

Alexander, it reads. He has to stop himself from yelling in delight. He clicks and sees it means 'defending men' and that its origin is Greek. Something about the name demands his attention; like it means something he doesn't know about.

 

"Dad!" he exclaims; it's eight and his dad's already home, so he should be here to listen. He takes his laptop and puts it on George's desk, smiling at him.

 

"What is it, son?"

 

The mere way he calls him son fills him with delight. "I think I found a name I like," he announces, doing jazz hands and jiggling his leg. He's smiling big and bright, and George seems so happy to see him this excited.

 

"Oh! What name is it?"

 

"Alexander." He tries not to think too much about how George gasps. "It means defending men in Greek and it just — calls to me?"

 

"One of the Founding Fathers was called Alexander, you know," he says, pausing as if thinking his words with care. His son stares at him with wondering eyes. "Hamilton. I saw him as a son of mine, as I couldn't have children."

 

"You couldn't have children?" Alexander furrows his eyebrows. "But I thought you had some? Before, I mean."

 

"Yeah. Stepchildren. My Martha had children before she married me."

 

"Ah." Alexander loves his mom; she's nice and funny and she's helped him through his traumas of the hurricane and the loss of his biological mom. "She's making dinner now, right?"

 

"Mhm," he nods. "Go tell her about your new name, yes, son?" he suggests, although it's more of a command. His dad has always been a leader.

 

Alexander nods and runs off to the kitchen, careful to leave his laptop in his own desk beforehand. He sees his mom's cutting carrots and he taps his foot until she turns around. "What is it, son?"

 

"I found a name for myself!"

 

Martha grins, tilts her head. "What name?"

 

"Alexander!"

 

She gives her the same surprised but thrilled look George gave him. "Oh, I'm glad. Can we call you Alex?"

 

"Sure."

 

"I feel like it suits you," she tells him. He beams at her and hugs her. He's only fourteen, and he's gone through a lot, but at least he has a happy family now. He doesn't know why looking at the name filled him with something he can't even begin to describe, but he'll figure it out sometime.

 

He goes give food to their dog. He thinks about his identity— how everytime they called him Isabela he felt uncomfortable. He'd come across the term transgender while surfing the Internet, and it made sense. He'd told his dad on impulse, and he'd immediately told his colleagues and Alexander had come out to his friends, them calling him Liz in the meantime of him choosing a name.

 

-

 

His mother is dying in his arms, hugging him; it smells like death. Then there's water all around him, there are screams and he's all alone on the island. There's a ship on fire, there are quills and paper, there's a man named Aaron Burr and there's a man named Laurens.

 

He makes love to him, they kiss, they fight in a war and against one General. They win Yorktown. He becomes the Treasury Secretary, he becomes a politician. He cheats on his wife. He releases a pamphlet about it. He ruins his own life, he ruins his wife's life and he kills his son.

 

Weehawken, dawn; guns, drawn. A. Ham.

 

He wakes up crying, his entire body shaking and him feeling the terrible pain in between his ribs. He'd died in a duel. He was Alexander Hamilton.

 

He breathes hard, eyes closed and trying to let himself relax a little. But he remembers too much, and it's all overwhelming. He had a relationship with John Laurens, another man, in the eighteenth century. He had a crush on Aaron Burr, who was who ultimately killed him.

 

"Dad?" he says, voice quiet, although he wants to scream. He hears the creaking of the wooden floor and sees George, looking at him with clear concern. "I got my memories back."

 

"Alex, oh," he says, immediately running and enveloping in his arms. "I knew you were him, but I was afraid of bringing it up. Too many people have talked about having memories forcibly brought back."

 

"It's… it's too much. It's just the hurricane, and my mom, and Laurens. Did you know about me and Laurens? Or did you think..."

 

"I think I had an idea," George responds. "But I wouldn't tell the authorities." He laughs airily."I didn't want my right-hand man to be executed."

 

"Mhm," he mutters, his heart in his throat. Suddenly his immediate connection to his name makes sense, suddenly his feeling of déja vù as the hurricane destroyed his town makes sense. "It's just… also Burr. It's... I think I—" he stops himself. He can't say he liked him. George will think he's crazy.

 

"You think you what, son?"

 

He replies, voice shaky; "I think I liked him."

 

"Oh." George pats his back, hugs him tight. He's only fifteen and he can't bear with all these memories, all he knows. He can't bear with knowing he was Alexander Hamilton, Founding Father of the United States. He's just a Puerto Rican kid. He can't, he can't, he can't. "I know it's overwhelming, son. I was so scared when I got them back when I was your age."

 

"Did... did your parents believe you?"

 

George laughs. "After a while." He pats his head and pulls away, not hugging him anymore. He misses the contact immediately. "They were just Iowa farmers. They didn't expect their son to be George Washington. Or a reincarnate, at all."

 

"I have to register, right?" The Reincarnate Register is a tool that's bound to cause trouble, but it's also very useful for people who are looking to find the people from their past incarnation.

 

"Mhm. You can also change your name legally."

 

The thought fills him with hope. "And my sex too?"

 

George hugs him quick. "Yep."

 

Alexander grins. He loves the idea.

 

-

 

It takes them until the next week, but by Friday they go to the place to get registered in New York. They ask a lot of questions, like when did he get his memories back and whether he wanted to change his name and his sex or not.

 

"I'd like to change my name and my sex legally, yes," Alexander replies without an ounce of doubt. "I'm transgender, anyway, so this is an opportunity I'd have to wait until I was older if it wasn't for my status."

 

"Mhm," the man behind the counter nods, a bit annoyed by his rambling. Alexander doesn't notice and just hugs George as the legal procedures are handled by Martha. He's so happy he's getting his name legally changed, along with his sex.

 

"You'll have to specify a lot when you go to the doctor, though, son," George tells him. "Are you sure you want to change your sex in your ID?"

 

"Most definitely. I'll just tell them I have a vagina and that should be enough." He doesn't pay mind to the way the man behind the counter looks disgusted by the mere mention of genitalia.

 

Alexander looks at the Reincarnate Register; it's divided into figures of different places, and he's filled with interest when he sees a few of his past life there. Jefferson, Angelica, Eliza, and Laurens are all there. But nothing about where they are.

 

And, a little farther down— Burr.

 

He bites his lip and gives the record back, the man smiling warmly at him. His insides burn with something akin to worry. He wonders how old this Burr is, if he's around his age or not, how does he feel about him now. Does he still hate him?

 

"Are you alright?" George asks.

 

"Yeah, I just... feel sick," he half-answers, his heart in his throat. He has so many questions he can't answer until he does meet Burr in this life. "Can we leave?"

 

"Martha's taking care of the last few papers," George answers. Alexander breathes through his nose and does his best to regain his composure. "Okay, baby? We're good to go?" Martha gives him a thumbs up as they walk down, outside the place for registering.

 

"Did you check the list?" Martha asks as she turns her car on and starts driving.

 

Alexander nods. "Mhm. I saw Laurens, Angelica, Eliza, Jefferson and..." he shifts in his seat. "Burr."

 

"Ah, that's nice." Martha's tone is almost sour after he mentioned Burr. He understands; he had been the one to kill her faux-son. "I hope you meet them soon, Alex."

 

Alexander breathes and closes his eyes. It's too much, to have to deal with these memories, this feminine body.

 

When he goes back to school, it's mostly a blur of trying to explain the fact he is one of the guys they teach about. Someone suggests he should do the class on Hamilton and he laughs airily; no one questions why he'd change his name.

 

He's a trans man, he's sixteen and he's Alexander Hamilton. He couldn't be prouder of who he is.