A/N: So sorry I haven't updated in a while! Hope you all haven't forgotten about Alex! I still plan to update this when I can. I have plenty of ideas and I still plan to make a video about this fic :D

The heat that night was unbearable. Alex was used to sleeping uncomfortably, but this time he felt suffocated. He turned over on the couch, resting his head against his arm and feeling the moisture against his skin. Pushing down the warm blankets, his breathing became faster and he adjusted his position again, screwing up his features in frustration. He swallowed when he heard a voice amidst the shadows, his eyes snapping open and his skin perspiring even more as the chilling whispers dripped ferociously in his ears:

"You'll never be free. Never."

He glanced around him, the moonlight from the window illuminating only half of the apartment. The rest fell under a deadly shadow and it was the darkness that made Alex's heart beat faster. He sat up on the sofa, trembling slightly, snapping his head in any direction he heard a noise.

"This is all your fault, you ungrateful little shit. Look at what you've done. You'll pay. You deserve to pay."

His mouth ran dry and he sat back in horror as a shadow flung towards him. His eyes blurred for a moment, and then the terrifying figure came in to focus. His fears were confirmed.

"Tom?" he croaked anxiously, clutching at his chest as if to try and calm his racing heart.

The dark figure leered, leaning over him in amusement, laughing and cackling and staring at him with a sinister gaze, blood splattered all over his uniform. He neared the boy, grinning wildly. You'll pay. I'll make you pay.

Alex couldn't move. He felt frozen, his eyes fixed to the figure's threatening stature as he loomed over him, preparing to strike. He didn't even blink. His heart thudded violently. He could feel it in his brain, in his wrists, the veins bulging. Thud, thud, thud. He was going to die.

But to his surprise, he realised his attacker wasn't Tom like he initially thought. The eyes were just as frightening, piercing in to him angrily. His features were dark and his tall build towered over him like an animal trapping its prey. He bore his sharp teeth and hissed, and for some reason Alex recognised him as the man he saw earlier. The man Peter warned him about.

Sylar.

The next thing he heard was his panting breath as he sat up in a panic, clutching his blankets to his chest and shaking violently. He felt sick. He glanced back up to Sylar but he had disappeared. Along with Tom. He searched frantically around him, breathing heavily, sweat dotting his face. Everything was normal. He caught his breath, closing his eyes and trying to gather his thoughts. It was all a dream. Just a mad dream. Nothing more.

He sat back and tried to slow his breathing, fighting the desperate urge to cry, either from child-like fear or from utter relief. His heartbeat gradually slowed, and he stared up at the dark ceiling above, contemplating just who this Sylar person was and why he frightened him so much.

Perhaps it was what Peter had told him last night - that Sylar had murdered his brother, Nathan. But how? Why? Peter didn't reveal anything else, just that he should stay away from the man. Just how dangerous was he? Should he be this scared? These questions kept running through Alex's mind and the more he thought about it, the more he kept imagining those dark eyes again, that intimidating smile. It reminded him so much of Tom, and he shivered, turning over again and refusing to close his eyes.

After another few minutes of this, Alex sighed and sat up again, wiping at his face. He felt sticky in his t-shirt and boxers and was suddenly painfully aware of how much his previous wounds were stinging. He tiredly pulled himself up and shuffled towards the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, but on the way his eyes were drawn to a chest of drawers and he suddenly felt his curiosity get the better of him.

Feeling the need to discover more about his new half-brother, he edged towards the drawers and started sifting through them. There wasn't a lot there; some boring files, newspaper clippings, old photographs. His eyes were drawn to the old family pictures and he suddenly felt a lump in his throat. He recognised Peter in several of them, and there were several of Nathan too. They were together in a lot of them. There were pictures of them fishing, pictures of them at the beach, pictures of them in the city, and pictures of them young and happy with their toothless grins and childish poses. Alex frowned and almost felt suffocated again. What was he doing here? He didn't belong here. He needed to get out. He needed to go.

As he placed the captured memories back in to the drawer, he spotted some cash sitting at the bottom, hidden away from sight. He hesitated for a moment before pocketing the money and glancing towards the door. He looked towards Peter who was still asleep and oblivious to Alex's nosy wanderings. Now was his chance. He went to grab his clothes when something else caught his eye. Another picture in the drawer. He recognised the two boys again, grown up and happy like they were in the photo Peter showed him yesterday. But they were with an older man. Alex recognised him immediately. He looked a little more aged, but he was still the same man Alex saw in his mother's memories.

It was his father, Arthur Petrelli, standing tall and proud with his two sons; his real sons. Alex gripped the picture angrily in his hands. This was the man who abandoned him and his mother. The man who ruined their lives. He felt so much hatred for this person he never knew, but he still felt a curiosity that had never been satisfied. He glanced back at Peter and knew he was the only one who could fill in the blanks for him. Sighing, he placed the photograph along with the money back in the drawer and crawled back on to the couch. He would have to stick with this for now if he was going to get what he wanted.

Breakfast was fairly quiet. Peter offered him some cereals, admitting with some embarrassment that he needed to buy some more food as he opened empty cupboard after empty cupboard.

Alex took the cereal gratefully, hesitating to speak aloud what he was thinking. He couldn't put Sylar out of his mind, or his father for that matter. After a few spoonfuls, he swallowed and looked up at his half-brother who was already starting to clean up. Peter had told him to speak his mind, after all. It was worth a shot.

"That guy yesterday," he began awkwardly. "Sylar…"

"What about him?" Peter frowned, hardly looking up from what he was doing.

"Well, are you going to tell me about him? He seemed to hit a nerve with you yesterday."

"Look, I know you're curious, Alex," Peter said, returning to the table and this time looking the boy in the eyes. "But some things you're not ready to know yet. All you need to know is that you should stay away from him. He has a lot of - issues."

"Like you and me have issues?" Alex scorned.

Peter sat down opposite him, unamused. "No, not like you and me have issues. Sylar has a dark heart. Sometimes he can't help it, but he's very dangerous. He's a killer."

Alex gave him a quizzical look. "Right, you said. How did he kill your brother again?"

Peter's eyes dropped again and he felt the desperate need to change the subject. How could he explain everything Sylar had done to him and his family? How he had threatened them, murdered them, tortured them? How he had maliciously cut the throat of his older brother and thoughtlessly left him to choke on his own blood, dying, alone, in agony. He couldn't imagine hearing the words aloud, and so he avoided it all together. "It's complicated," he replied, his voice low and quiet. "I'll tell you some day. But for now, can we just drop it?"

Alex shrugged, obviously disappointed. But he wasn't too worried. He would find out one way or another, whether he had to use his own methods of collecting the information or not.

"Will you at least tell me about my father?" Alex added hopefully. "What's he like?"

For a moment he thought Peter was going to dodge the question again, looking at Alex with hesitance, his eyes gleaming regretfully. But he leaned forward, cleared his throat and began to answer.

"He was a very busy man," Peter said simply. "He didn't have a lot of time for me and Nathan…but he was a good dad."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "He was?"

"I know you have a lot of presumptions about him. I know you hate him for leaving you and your mom, but he did it out of loyalty to my mom. She needed him and he made the decision he thought was best."

Alex gave a sarcastic chuckle and rolled his eyes. "She needed him? What about my mom? I had to witness her kill herself everyday for that jackass. She suffered because of him."

"I know, and I'm not defending him. Our dad…he was very conflicted. He may have not always made good choices, but he always did what he thought was best, even when it hurt others."

"Sounds like an asshole to me."

Peter smiled a little, understanding Alex's response. "Well, I guess he was a little bit."

"And he isn't anymore?" questioned Alex, suddenly aware that Peter had been using the past tense.

Peter paused, realising with shock that he hadn't told Alex what had become of their father. He sighed, wringing his hands together nervously before speaking. "He's dead," he told him bluntly, the sadness remaining in his eyes.

Alex's mouth hung open. He wasn't sure how to feel. Even though he had detested Arthur Petrelli since he was a little kid, he had never considered the possibility of him being dead. He would never get the opportunity to meet him and silently, he tried to decide whether he was disappointed or relieved. "How?" he asked after a few moments. "When?"

Again, Peter hesitated. He knew Alex wanted answers and he knew he had promised to give them, but it felt too soon to reveal their father's true nature. His family history was complicated, and he couldn't bring himself to get in to the painful details right now, so he did what his mother had done to him before all this began. He lied.

"He had a heart attack," he said. "Nathan found him on the floor of the dining room one evening, just lying there. When they got to the hospital it was too late."

This was the version of the story that Peter had believed for so long, only he knew now that it wasn't entirely true. He wished it had been, but sadly, there was a lot more pain and conflict to come between him and his father; a series of events that Peter wished had never taken place, and now the memory of his father had been tarnished. He didn't want Alex to experience the same feeling. He hated him enough already and so Peter had lied to save Alex any more disappointment. He had never understood before why his mother had deceived him for so long about his father, but now he knew that when you love someone, you want the people they cared for to think the best of them. His mother didn't want him to know what Arthur was capable of and now Peter wanted to do the same for Alex. He knew he would find out the truth eventually, just not now. Not when Alex was still so troubled and untrusting. He could see the surprise in his expression, the awkward look in his eye that told him he was unsure how to feel, and yet at the same time there was a slight look of suspicion that made Peter panic.

"That was a while ago now," he added, clearing his throat. "My dad's been gone a long time." That much at least, Peter thought, was true.

Alex nodded, grateful that Peter had answered his question, but he couldn't help the feeling that he wasn't telling the whole truth. He thought about reaching over and using his ability to find out the truth for himself, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door and so Peter, reluctantly, walked over to answer it, leaving Alex alone at the table.

Angela was waiting at the door, her gloved hand outstretched to knock again when Peter emerged, his mouth open in surprise.

"Mom? What are you doing here?"

She smiled tightly. "I just came to see how you were. Isn't a mother allowed to check up on her son? I know you've been troubled lately with all the unpleasantness that has been happening the last few days." Her eyes wandered over to the teenager behind him, sitting with unease as he glanced in her direction and then turned away awkwardly. "Who is that?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Peter turned towards Alex who was busy pretending he couldn't hear their conversation. He closed the door slightly and joined his mother in the hallway outside. "That's my brother," he told her, folding his arms. "That's Alex."

"You brought him home?" she asked, almost horrified. "Peter, you don't know anything about him, what he's capable of ¾"

"Actually, I know exactly what he's capable of. I know more about him then you think."

"But Peter, you don't know anything about taking care of a child."

"He's seventeen years old. I think I can handle it."

"Really? Do you remember what you were like when you were that age? You weren't always the perfect little angel you are today, dear."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Look, I know it won't be a walk in the park, but I had no choice. You don't know what it was like for him in there, what they were doing to him. I had to get him out, alright? For his safety."

Angela frowned, although inside she felt a strange sort of pride. "You care too much. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Peter sighed. "No, but I'm okay with that. I'm going to do the best I can to help him, no matter what you think."

Angela bit the inside of her cheek, knowing she had raised a stubborn son, but at the same time she understood and respected his decision. She nodded and forced a smile. "Well, if you think it's for the best, I trust you."

"Thank you." They smiled at each other briefly. "Do you want to meet him?"

She looked up at him, her smile vanishing and her eyes widening. She hesitated responding for a moment. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I understand," Peter smiled sympathetically. "But I think it would be great if you two met. He's part of the family now."

She glanced through the gap in the door, feeling her heart race at the thought. She was very skilled at keeping calm and clear-headed during tense situations, but when it came to this, she felt like a little child again ¾ so nervous and terrified. She shook her head, forcing a nervous smile. "Maybe another time."

"Okay." He kissed her on the cheek. "Another time then."

She smiled again, but her gaze seemed panicked and her lips trembled. She took a step back before pausing, pursing her lips together tightly and holding back her emotions.

"He has his eyes," she said simply, looking towards the gap in the door once more.

Peter smiled slightly, nodding gently. "I know," he said softly before catching one last glance of his mother before she turned and disappeared down the corridor.

TBC