It was all flooding back to him now; those hateful crowds, those mocking stares. He could never stand it before and he couldn't stand it now. But he had no choice in the matter. If Peter was going to let him stay in his apartment, he had to go to school.

Alex and high school never mixed very well. Even before he knew he was different - that he was some abnormal freak - the other kids disliked and ridiculed him. Even the teachers seemed wary of him. It probably didn't help that his mother turned up drunk to every parent's evening she bothered to attend.

Alex didn't like learning anyway. Instead, he preferred being by himself out in the city, away from all the prying eyes and petty conversations. He'd sit outside abandoned buildings, smoking and thinking. Thinking about what he was going to do with his mother when he got home, how he was going to sober her up or how he was going to stop her from crying in to the night. He may not have known much about literature or mathematics, but he knew how to make the perfect hangover cure or how to take care of a grown woman who had gone off the rails.

He took a drag from his cigarette and observed the crowds of students bustling about as he waited for Peter outside the building. It had still only been less than a week since Peter took him in and they hadn't established rules and boundaries yet. Only the fact that he needed to go to school and get an education. Of course Alex had protested. Going to school meant having to deal with those bratty school kids and arrogant teachers. It also meant that this whole arrangement was permanent, and Alex hadn't planned on staying long.

The worst thing though was that Ryan was going to be there. As if it hadn't been bad enough living with the pompous jerk, he had to go to school with him too. He was suddenly overwhelmed with memories of being shoved in to bathrooms and crushed against lockers. He and Peter had discussed the idea of starting a new school, but with just under a year to go until graduation they decided (or rather, Peter decided) it was best for him to continue on at his old one just outside the city.

He had exhaled another breath of smoke when Peter emerged from the school entrance. "I spoke to the Principal," he said. "He'll take you back as long as you're on your best behaviour."

Alex frowned and gave a half shrug as he raised the cigarette to his lips again. Peter batted the little stick out of his fingers.

"Rule number one: no smoking. Ever."

Alex sighed as he stared at the burning ash on the floor. "I thought going to school was rule number one," he muttered.

"Fine, then it's rule number two. You do realise how bad those things are for you?"

"Are you my doctor now?" Alex questioned him sarcastically.

"No, but in case you hadn't noticed, I'm your guardian now and what I say goes. Okay?"

"Fine," the boy replied, rolling his eyes. "It was an expensive habit anyways."

Peter softened a little bit. "How are the bruises?" he asked. "They don't seem as visible anymore."

"They're fine," Alex murmured, eyeing the people around him cautiously

Peter noticed his anxious glances. "Hey, don't worry about today, alright? Ignore those kids, you're stronger than that."

"How do you know? You barely know me."

"I do know you, Alex."

"Right, because you have that same thing that I do with the memories, except you don't really." He wrinkled his nose.

"It's complicated. Look, I'll explain more in good time. For now just…go to school, learn something." He smiled at him. "You're a Petrelli. I know you can get through this."

Alex didn't seem so sure. Peter handed him some money.

"For lunch. Make sure you eat something."

"How do you know I won't just take this money and get on a bus somewhere?"

Peter shrugged and offered him another smile. "I don't. I'll see you later," he said, already backing away.

Alex was hesitant to let him leave. "Peter?" he called. Peter stopped and turned to face him again. "When will you tell me about my father? And Nathan? About what happened to them?"

Peter sighed and broke eye contact for a moment. It was obvious he thought it was a terrible idea to tell the truth so soon. After a moment he tried to smile positively at him. "When you're ready," he said. "Soon."

Peter left Alex alone outside the school.

He felt like he was being abandoned again, but he knew how to take care of himself by now. He had done it for so long, it was like second nature. He sucked in a breath, pushed back his fears, and walked through the doors.

The school hadn't changed one bit, and that's probably what unnerved him. He pushed through the mob of teenagers, holding his breath. He caught the snippets of tedious conversations, the insolent laughs, the childish shoving. He felt as though he were trapped in a cage with a bunch of hyenas. He didn't belong here.

He remembered what lesson he had that morning. He always wondered how speaking Spanish was supposed to enrich his learning. Nowadays, the schooling system was exceptionally flawed. Of course, he hadn't always been this cynical. He used to enjoy school as much as the next kid. Like any other young boy, he couldn't wait to run home and tell his parents what he had discovered in class that day, but unlike other children his age his home situation wasn't exactly normal. And if his mother didn't care what he had been learning, why should he?

He felt the bruising around his ribs start to burn again and he noticed some of the foster kids standing outside the classroom. Ryan stuck out like a sore thumb; he was huge. He towered over most people. Perhaps this was why Tom never beat him.

"Hey, look who it is," he said mockingly, leaning against the wall and folding his large arms across his chest. "How's your new foster family working out? They sick of you yet?"

"Give it a rest, Ryan," he murmured, shooting him a hateful glare.

"I'm just making conversation, bro. We've really missed having you around. Haven't we, boys?"

The guys around him sniggered and nodded.

"By the way, Alex," he added as he leant closer, voice lowering. "Tom says hi."

Just the mention of his name made him shiver. Ryan was loving this. Alex wanted to smack that dirty smirk right off his face, but he restrained himself. He knew Peter wouldn't be happy if he got in to a fist fight on his first day back (although, why did he care what he thought?). Besides, he didn't have the energy to battle with Ryan at the moment anyway. He walked in to the classroom and sat at a desk near the back.

"Ah, hola Alex," Señor Garcia said with surprise as he walked in to the room. A herd of students followed him. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Did you get bored of loitering out in the streets? Finally decided that getting an education is worthwhile and not beneath you?"

Alex smiled sarcastically at his teacher.

His teacher smirked to himself before turning to the other students. "Hola Clase. Please sit down."

Alex tried to ignore Ryan's cruel smile as he sat down somewhere behind him.

Peter shoved anything he could in to the shopping basket. He needed food; teenagers ate a lot of food. He needed school stuff too; books, pens, paper. What else? His mother's words began to ring in his ears. Of course, he knew she was right. He didn't know a thing about taking care of a teenage boy. But she did. He thought about calling her but as he pulled out the mobile phone, he froze. She would only try to convince him to take Alex back where he found him. And besides, this whole thing had been so hard on her. He didn't want to cause her anymore pain and stress. She wouldn't even meet the kid. That told him enough about the level of involvement she wanted in Alex's life. At least for now. He hoped one day she would change her mind.

Alex would need something to occupy himself with while Peter was at work, when he wasn't doing homework of course. Since he no longer had a TV, he thought he could get Alex some comic books. Sometimes Nathan would buy him the odd graphic novel when he was a kid and he remembered being engrossed by every page. He'd lose hours of his life reading the things and then he'd get yelled at by his older sibling for not studying hard enough.

He made a mental note to find some and bring them home with him.

Eventually, he found himself in the health aisle next to the contraceptives where he realised, with a twinge of discomfort, that he would need to add yet another talk to the ever-growing list of topics he had to discuss with his younger brother. He doubted whether the subject of girls had come up whilst he was living with his mother, but there was plenty of time for that discussion. It was far too early for that kind of talk and so with a breath of relief he wandered on towards the checkout.

As he joined the queue, his gaze drew to the television set in the corner. He recognised Claire's face. The footage was familiar too. The Carnival. He watched for the hundredth time as she recklessly jumped off that structure and revealed her healing power to the world. At the bottom of the screen were the words "Elaborate hoax or superhuman ability?"

He hadn't heard from her in weeks. Last he'd heard from Noah Bennett she was lying low like the rest of them. That was probably for the best. At the moment, the public seemed divided on what they believed. There were those that thought Claire's stunt was merely a clever prank or misunderstanding, whereas many others who called themselves 'Believers' were convinced that Specials existed. Some even claimed that they were one of them, which probably helped convince the other half of the population that this was clearly madness.

His thoughts returned to Alex again and he wondered how he was going to shield him from all of this. He was only just starting to understand his ability. This whole mess was only going to exacerbate the situation.

He wondered what Nathan would do. He knew how to be the protective older brother, after all. Would he have felt this confused? This overwhelmed? He wished he was here. He missed him more than anything.

"Is that everything?" he heard the woman at the checkout ask.

He turned to look at her, realising that his hand was suddenly touching hers, and then her face began to blur and distort. Before he had the chance to question this, however, he found himself in a garden. He was at a swing set, pushing a little girl, watching happily as her blonde hair waved in the wind and she giggled with joy and asked to go higher. He knew her. Her name was Emily. She was eleven years old. She liked horse-riding and swimming at the beach and her favourite teacher was Mrs Wilson. She was eleven when she died. Peter found himself staring tearfully at the child's limp body as he pulled her from the ocean. He wanted to save her, wanted to do something, but he couldn't. He was at her funeral. He could see the family gathered around in black, crying and holding each other. He was crying too. He missed Emily. He missed Emily because her mother did.

He pulled back with a jolt, a tear running down his cheek.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked him with a frown, watching him with impatience.

Peter looked at Emily's mother with distress and wiped the tear from his face. It was becoming obvious what had happened. He caught his breath. He noticed the queue of people watching him with bewilderment. "I'm fine," he said shakily, throwing the money on the counter. "Sorry." He grabbed his shopping and got out of there.

Spanish class couldn't have been any more boring. It was all Alex could take not to close his eyes and drift off since he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. Even without Tom's ominous shadow lurking outside his door, the nightmares reminded him that he was never too far away.

"Make sure you're listening, Mr. Petrelli," Señor Garcia warned him in Spanish.

Alex turned to the front, waiting until his teacher's authoritative gaze settled elsewhere, and then his eyes wandered over to the window where he could see the oak tree standing tall outside. He noticed its brown leaves lying dead on the floor below. It made him think how cruel nature could be; to give life and let it grow only to let it die so that the cycle could be repeated. It was pointless, he thought, just like this lesson.

He could barely hear Señor Garcia's annoyed commands for him to face the front. He was too distracted by a figure standing behind the tree, watching him. He was tall and dressed in dark clothing and he seemed somewhat familiar. He noticed the man grin unsettlingly and he felt his heart begin to race.

A loud thump on his desk made him jump and it was then he noticed Señor Garcia standing right above him, his hand on his desk and his expression furious. "Finally, I have your attention," he spat. "Stand up."

Embarrassed, Alex stood, glancing around the class as everyone stared. He noticed Ryan watching smugly.

"I'm disappointed in you, Alex. I thought this could be a second chance for you."

Alex didn't say anything.

"Why is it that you have no respect for your teachers? I'm trying to teach you something here and you're more interested by what's going on out there."

He waved towards the window and Alex turned his head to see if the figure was still there, but he had disappeared. His teacher raised his voice, causing him to snap his head back to face him.

"Look at me! You will never get anywhere in life if you continue with such an attitude." His expression softened a little bit. "We've all been through hard times. I know it must be difficult for you, but we can't help you if you don't help yourself. Do you think your mother would want you to stray down the same path as she did?"

Alex blinked, feeling his muscles tense. "What did you say?"

Señor Garcia tilted his head to the side and frowned again. "I'm worried about you, Alex. I know it's been a tough couple of months for you but you need to let us help you."

He clenched his teeth together, fighting the urge to hit him, anything to get him to stop talking. This false concern was sickening. Where was Señor Garcia when his mother died? Where was he when he was turning up to school with bruises across his face? Where was he when he was alone in that foster home, too afraid to sleep at night for fear of Tom creeping in with the intent on hurting him again?

"It's not too late for you, son. But you need to get your act together." He paused, his concerned frown deepening. "What would your mother think of you acting this way?"

Alex felt his jaw stiffen. He knew exactly what his mother would think. She didn't have the patience for this bullshit and neither did he. He narrowed his eyes at Señor Garcia, trying to hold back the rage he felt at the mention of his mother. How dare he bring her up in front of all these people, how dare he use her as a way to patronise him? He could feel his fists ball up with anger. For a moment he could see a flicker of panic in his teacher's eyes as he attempted to keep his composure.

Alex broke his gaze, feeling the eyes of the whole class upon him. He didn't say a word. He couldn't. He felt that suffocating feeling again, as if something was pressing down hard on his chest. He couldn't be here any longer, and so, avoiding the faces of his classmates, he slowly trailed off towards the door in silence and left Señor Garcia alone with his attentive audience.

He dropped down behind the bleachers on the football field and stayed there for what seemed like hours. He fumbled with the cigarette in his hand only to throw it angrily on the floor. He never liked smoking anyway. He only did it because his mother had and because he thought it helped. But it never really helped at all. He watched it burn out on the ground, the smoke rising and then disappearing in to the air.

He wanted to leave. Go home, wherever that was. He wasn't really sure where he belonged anymore. All he knew was that he didn't want to be here. He knew coming back here would be a mistake.

"You couldn't even sit through one class. That's got to be some kind of record, Petrelli," Ryan's smug voice came from behind him. He could hear the arrogant footsteps of him and his friends approaching. He always hunted in packs.

He released a sigh and let his head fall back on to the beam he was resting against. "Not now, man, okay?"

"I think right now is a pretty good time to put you in your place," he snapped. "You think you're so much better than us, don't you? Little cockroach, I could squish you like a bug."

Alex swallowed. "How do you know what I think? You don't know anything about me."

"I know a few things," he said, smiling darkly. "So, does Señor Garcia know?"

"Know what?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"That you were the one driving?"

He froze. "What?"

Ryan looked at his boys with a sense of accomplishment. He turned back to Alex. "When you got your mom killed. You were driving and you crashed the car."

Alex jumped to his feet and stormed towards him. "How do you know about that?"

Ryan's smile grew. "You're not the only one who can read files."

"I told you I didn't read them!" he yelled furiously.

"Give it up! How else would you know that stuff about my parents?"

"I can read minds," Alex said ironically.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a great sense of humour? Is that something you inherited from your mom?"

"Stop talking about her," he seethed.

"I saw your face in class. I thought you were going to lay in to Señor Garcia for a moment there."

"I mean it, Ryan. Just stop."

"No, I won't stop," he barked. "I wanna know where you get off thinking you're superior to the rest of us, that you can get away with all kinds of shit, when you're just no-good trash like the rest of us. Poor Little Orphan Alex, always trying to pull the sympathy vote. Well, it's not working."

Alex couldn't take this. "No. That's not true, Ryan. And I don't care what you read about me, you don't know shit. Now will you leave me alone?"

Ryan snorted. "We're not finished. You want to know why Tom treated you the way he did? Well this is why. This act; it's not fooling anybody. It didn't fool Tom and it ain't fooling me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You want to know something else too? I think you let Tom do those things to you."

Alex swallowed painfully, his nose wrinkling at the remark. "You think I let those things happen?" he asked, horrified. "As if I wanted to be treated like that?"

Ryan leant closer. "I think," he murmured almost in his ear, "deep down, you let that crazy son of a bitch torture you because you know, after what happened with your mom, that you deserved it."

The words rolled off his tongue and hit Alex is if he'd been literally slapped in the face. Ryan shouldn't be telling him this. Ryan shouldn't even know any of this. And if Ryan had known what he had been through in the past couple of months, he wouldn't have even considered what he was saying right at that moment.

Nobody deserved what Tom did. Nobody. And he felt physically sick at the thought of him doing the same to anyone else. Ryan, as always, didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

"But I don't know why you're so hard on yourself, man," Ryan continued, his voice sharp like a dagger scraping along his vocal cords. "Depressed drunk like that, it probably would have happened one way or another. She'd have killed herself just as easily without your help."

Even Ryan's boys thought that had been over the line. They took a cautious step back. Alex could feel his skin burning, his fists trembling as he exploded with anger. He punched Ryan right in the jaw.

Tbc

A/N: if you're reading this, thank you! Sorry it's taken me so long to update. If you're still interested in Alex I hope you will continue to read and check out this character study video I finally got round to making:

GcLSkrrYkxc (just add the youtube URL bit at the beggining and put forward slash - and put a fullstop/period between the 'U' and 'B' of 'youtube')

There might be a few spoilers, but it's more like teasers than anything else! Happy Christmas/Holidays x