Heroes fanfic: Another Family Affair
Title: Another Family Affair
Rating: T
Warnings: Mild swearing
Characters: Peter Petrelli, mentions of the rest of the Petrelli family, Alex Petrellli (OC)
Summary: Arthur had another son from an affair that Peter and Nathan never knew about. It's only after Nathan dies that Angela confesses they have a younger brother, Alex, who lives with his neglectful mother and realises he has an ability of his own. After his mother dies, Alex is sent to a terrible foster home and found by Peter who decides to take him in and teach him all he knows.
A/N: I'm not sure how many people will read this, but this is my first fic for an Original Character and I thought I'd post it up just in case anyone else is interested.
He could still hardly believe he was here. Was he angry? Hell yes. His mother had lied to him, his father had betrayed them all, and Nathan - he would never know about any of this. He would never get the opportunity that Peter had now, not that he particularly wanted it. It was just something he had to do.
Oh, ma. Why now of all times? Nathan is hardly even cold yet, now you spring this on me? Since the loss of his older brother and his father, he had assumed that half of the Petrelli family were gone forever. Now it looked like a part of them existed in someone else. He trembled slightly, exhaling shakily.
Peter, there's something you need to know about your father, he replayed his mother's voice in his head, he had an affair when you were ten-years-old. You have a younger brother.
Of course it had been a shock, and it had taken him weeks to warm to the idea. He had a little brother, for God's sake. He was nearly thirty years old, and all this time he had been used to being the youngest. Now it looked like he had to be the oldest. He had to meet this kid, no matter what kind of person he was, or on what grounds he had entered this world. He had to meet the boy who shared his name and had the same blood running in his veins.
"Who are you looking for?" a woman at the desk of the foster home asked him, her smile forced and her eyes tired.
"Uh, Alex Petrelli," he answered. The name sounded strange on his tongue.
A look of realisation overtook her features, "Alex? You know him?"
"I'm his brother," Peter replied, trying his best not to fidget. The woman got to her feet.
"I didn't think he had any family left."
Me neither, thought Peter.
"He'll probably be in his room. Follow me."
Peter chewed on his lip as he followed the young woman through a crowd of children, chatting away, or listening to their ipods, or watching television. Peter wondered why he wasn't out here with the other kids. Perhaps he still needed time to adjust, he concluded.
Finally, they reached a once-white corridor that appeared aged and grotty. The ceiling looked yellow and Peter wasn't impressed to find the word "Freak" scratched in to what seemed to be Alex's bedroom door. The woman forced another smile and tried her best to seem concerned.
"He doesn't really get on with the other children. We're trying to work with him, but he doesn't want to listen."
Peter frowned sympathetically. He knew what it was like when other people didn't like you. He wasn't exactly popular at school, and he spent a lot of time feeling angry and bitter towards everyone. He understood what this kid must be going through, he just thought it was a shame to see history repeat itself.
The woman knocked hard on the door, not really waiting for a reply when she swung the creaking door open. A dark, hooded form was huddled over on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest. The only part of him Peter really saw was his deep brown eyes as they glanced curiously at the door before they retreated back underneath his hood in to the shadows. Suddenly, Peter feared what he had set himself up for.
"Alex, you have a visitor," she said to him loudly, as if he were deaf. Kid didn't bother to reply. She spoke again, more rudely this time. "Did you hear me, Mr. Petrelli?" It was strange to hear her address a stranger with that name. "See, it's your -"
"Peter," he quickly interrupted before she gave away the big surprise. The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm the boy too quickly. After all, he had no idea Peter even existed. "I'm Peter."
The boy ignored him and picked at the hole in his ripped bed covers. It was only then that Peter realised how awful the room was; the window had a small crack in it and desperately needed a new paint job, the plaster on the walls had gradually been peeling off, the floor was stained with God knew what, and the smell was pretty unpleasant. What kind of place had they sent this kid to?
"He's always like this," the woman explained, not noticing Peter's critical glances around the room. "Just stays to himself really. You'll be lucky if you get much out of him. He's a troublemaker, this one."
He smiled politely at her, "Right. Thank you."
"Let me know if you need any help, okay?" she edged towards the door. "He can get pretty mean when he wants to."
"Sure," Peter nodded, unnerved by her comment. "Thanks." He was grateful to see her walk away at last. He turned his attention to the teenager in front of him and he sat on a chair beside the desk.
"Bitch," the boy muttered, his voice low.
"Excuse me?"
"Look, man. I don't know anyone called Peter," he muttered, turning to face him. "So just leave me alone, will ya?"
Peter was speechless for a moment as he analysed the boy's face. It was intriguing how much he looked like him. As he continued to stare, he thought he could see similarities between him and his father, and even Nathan. The eyes in particular caught his interest this time, as they gleamed in the light from the window. He certainly looked like a Petrelli.
"What? You wanna take a picture or something?" Alex spat, his face a mixture of confusion and annoyance.
Peter realised how rude he was being and broke his gaze, smiling awkwardly. "Sorry."
Alex rested his head against the wall and sighed. "What do you want, man?"
Peter inhaled nervously, "I, uh….look, I know what you're going through, okay? I get it."
Alex scorned, swinging his legs round to face this stranger. "Excuse me? You know what I'm going through?" he repeated, voice loud. Peter was taken aback at this.
"I know what it's like to lose someone," he assured him truthfully.
"You don't know shit, man!" he exclaimed, "You have no idea what's happening! What this is like! Who the hell are you anyway? What the hell are you doing here? Who are you, man?"
Peter raised his hands as if in surrender. Obviously, he was taking the loss of his mother very hard indeed. Peter had watched the funeral from a distance a few weeks back and saw the pain in Alex's eyes as he said goodbye to his mother. It was understandable, but this kid was making it increasingly hard to talk to him.
As if having read his mind, the kid sprang up suddenly and eyed Peter carefully. "I've seen you before. You were at my mom's funeral, right? Are you following me or something? Who are you? Answer me!"
The boy spoke so fast, Peter could hardly explain himself at all. He swallowed hard. "Alright. Have you ever heard of Arthur Petrelli?"
The boy repeated the name, felt it on his lips. He sat back down on the bed, the anger and panic vanishing from his face. Arthur Petrelli. Arthur Petrelli. Peter knew he recognised it.
"Did your mom ever mention him?" he asked carefully.
"My mom never told me anything," he replied bitterly, avoiding his gaze.
"But you recognise the name?"
Alex didn't answer. He chewed on his lip and rested his head against his palm, as if replaying something in his head. He furrowed his brows suspiciously. "Who is he?" he asked finally.
"He's your father," Peter told him bluntly, awaiting his reaction.
"My father," he repeated. It was hard to decipher what he was feeling from the tone in his voice, and Peter couldn't bring himself to read the kid's mind.
Peter cleared his throat and fidgeted slightly. "He's my father too."
Alex nearly spluttered and looked across at him, disbelief in his face. "What?"
"Alex," he inhaled gently and looked him in the eyes seriously, "I'm your older brother, Peter Petrelli."
Those sharp brown eyes pierced in to his, staring at him, watching. His lips were slightly parted as if he were dumb-founded. He leant forward slightly on the lumpy bed and broke his gaze, eyes wide and focusing in to blank space.
"Are you sure?"
Peter bit his lower lip and leant forward, nodding. "Pretty sure."
He didn't look at him. He was so still; like a statue, his concrete eyes fixated on the floor below and his stone back hunched over slightly in thought. "Why are you telling me this now?"
The older Petrelli inhaled, "My mother told me a couple months ago. She's known about your existence all along, she never told me until now." He paused. "I needed….time before I saw you."
"Time?" He looked up and the sudden movement almost made Peter jump.
He swallowed. "I recently lost someone special to me. My older brother -" he stopped himself. "Our older brother. Nathan. I needed time to adjust….to get used to the idea of losing a brother…and then gaining one."
A line formed between Alex's dark eyebrows and his nose wrinkled slightly. "I don't even know you. I don't know anything about you. Any of you."
"We're your family, Alex."
"I don't have a family. So we have the same name, so your dad screwed my mom - it doesn't mean we're a family."
"I can help you."
He stood up again, angrily, his lip curled. "You can't help me, okay?" he yelled, "Do you have ANY idea what I've been through? The shit I've put up with during the years! Where was your precious little family then?"
Peter got to his feet, holding up his hands defensively. He could hear the angry thoughts inside the boy's head, the insults boiling up in his mind, the agony he was feeling projecting on to Peter. He stood back, listened, and heard something which might explain Alex's troubled behaviour.
His eyes fixed on to his, his head shaking. "It's not your fault, Alex."
Alex froze, his eyes glistening with confusion and sadness, his anger receding back inside himself. His mouth was dry as he tried to speak. "What did you say?"
What the hell?
Peter risked a step towards him, "The accident. It wasn't your fault. I know you think it is." He could feel the guilt, the bitter regrets. He heard them play inside his own head, overwhelming him.
Alex's lower lip trembled, and Peter stopped reading his mind. "Get out."
"Alex -"
"You heard me, man. Get the hell out, whoever you are!"
"I only want to help -"
Alex yelled over him, "GET OUT! Leave me alone! Understand? Get out! Get out!"
Peter, strangely enough, felt a wave of fear wash over him, knocking him down with astonishment. He had braved wars, fell from thirty-story buildings, fought battles and faced Sylar, the strongest and most evil being that ever existed - at least, he had been - but dealing with the violent response of this teenage boy deemed much too challenging for his taste. He raised his hands again and stepped backwards towards the door where two large men who seemed like orderlies shoved past him to restrain the boy who continued yelling and fighting.
"Get off me! Get off!"
Peter watched, stunned, as they grabbed the boy and pushed him on to the bed, his legs kicking wildly in the air as he screamed. As he turned, he saw the lady from earlier watching over his shoulder.
"Told you, he gets so out of hand. He needs a little discipline if you ask me," she commented, unaffected by the violence that was occurring in front of her.
Peter couldn't believe his senses. Over the madness, the shouting, he could hear Alex's voice in his mind once again.
Not again, not again. Leave me alone! Don't touch me. Don't touch me!
He tore his gaze away and faced the woman in front of him, a frown on his lips. "I'll be back tomorrow." And that was a promise he wouldn't break.