The first time she met Dr. Linus, her history teacher, Alexandra Rousseau wanted to hug him.
This, perhaps, was not so unusual, because she was an affectionate girl and he was a very dear, gently humorous little man with loneliness behind the smile in his eyes. But Alex knew better than to go around hugging teachers, even though it felt most oddly like she knew him already, as if in some other life he had actually been her father.
Alex laughed at herself, being a good-humored girl with a knack for seeing the ridiculous. But that year she signed up for every history class they would let her take and dropped softball for the history club.