Work Text:
Peter did not mean to come to this quiet area of Central Park in the middle of the night. The nocturnal joggers were few and far between. He was all alone at this side of the lake, with the moon as his sole companion. Lifting his face to the sky, cool breeze ruffled his hair and he closed his weary eyes.
“I heard that it’s not safe out here after 10.”
A corner of Peter’s lips curled up slightly as he turned to the left, “Sylar…”
The strange friend smiled with a hint of mischief. “Are you happy to see me?”
“You’re a distraction, that’s for sure.”
Sylar tilted his head, observing him blatantly. It was unnerving how the former serial killer was the only person who can truly see him these days. Sometimes he felt invisible, weightless – not in a good way. He felt like he was disappearing while the world caught fire.
“You shouldn’t worry too much.”
“How can I not?” The empath countered. “They just launched a national Registry for evos by the way, as if we don’t get targeted enough. A patient of mine died today because his colleagues stabbed him. All he can do was change the colour of objects with a touch.”
An orchestra of crickets started chirping from far across the water. Otherwise, the night was hushed as Sylar stared at him.
“What?” Peter glared at the man, who merely lifted a brow in response. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we should take over the world.”
Peter frowned. “What?”
“We’re the most powerful specials on earth. We should take over the world.”
“What are you talking about?” Peter huffed a soft laugh, amused. Sylar drew closer to him and he appreciated the body heat.
“We should start a revolution,” the man whispered in his ear playfully. It got Peter trying to hide a snigger, mood promptly lifted. That was the goal all along, wasn't it?
“How do you always know where to find me?”
“You know how I know, Peter.” Sylar said quietly. Peter looked into the friend’s eyes and felt his mental bond with him strengthened. The unspoken intimacy pulsed with a serene, golden hue. It almost felt like they were alone in their own world all over again.
They stayed with each other until 1am. Sylar walked him back to his apartment and left after he fell asleep.
“Dispatch, Unit 12 responding to an OD. Patient is unconscious, shallow breathing. We’re transporting him to Mercy Heights, ETA 6 minutes.” Hesam glanced over at Peter, “How are you guys at the back?”
“Rhythm stable, breathing still shallow.”
“Alright,” Hesam started pulling into the traffic with the siren on, “do what you nee-“
A sudden, strangled shriek from the patient on the gurney nearly gave the paramedics a heart arrest. The ambulance swerved a little and Peter barely managed to dodge when the six-foot lanky man shot up and tried to take a swing at him.
“What the heck is going on?! Peter!” The vehicle screeched to a hasty stop and Hesam bolted out.
Peter panted in terror as the man extracted a short blade from the pocket of his ratty jeans. The guy looked vicious and out of his mind, fully focused on Peter.
“Hey, listen man, calm down.” Peter urged, hands held out imploringly to a drugged beast. If only he had Matt’s telepathy today, or even Edgar’s speed or Mohinder’s strength. But alas, he had accidentally gotten x-ray vision from someone in the hospital yesterday. “We’re paramedics. We’re here to help you. You’re in an ambulance.”
“You’re not taking me to the cops!” the man roared. It was terrifying. Hesam chose that moment to fling the rear doors open, startling the two of them. The crazed patient lunged at Peter again and the knife slashed across the empath’s right forearm deeply this time, spilling blood all over the place.
“Peter!” Hesam yelled. The panicking partner threw something heavy right at the junkie’s head and knocked him right out. The big man fell like a log onto the floor, toppling over a first aid box in the process.
“Peter, are you okay?!”
Peter was dazed scanning the chaos in their little space, “You fell him with a bottle? Just like that?”
“It’s a Stanley cup. It’s heavy.” Hesam took his arm to inspect the bleeding. Some road users and pedestrians were now crowding the opening of the ambulance, concerned.
“Are you okay, Peter?”
“A little dizzy. I think I lost a lot of blood.” There were red pools on the floor. The stab wound itched and Peter was pretty sure the night would end in at least 20 stitches.
Hesam was quiet for a while, still gripping Peter’s arm. “Well, that’s the thing. You’re not injured.”
Peter frowned and peered at the carefully blank face of his partner. He then looked down at his blood smeared, but otherwise smooth and unharmed skin. The empath turned to the junkie again and activated his x-ray vision. It was indeed still working, which only meant…he was using 2 powers at the same time.
“How can it be?” he breathed, head spinning.
“Clean the floor.” Hesam ordered sternly. The partner had a stressed look on his face, “make sure no one knows you got cut, Peter. Clean the floor.”
Sylar came to his apartment that night. He knelt down in front of Peter as the empath stared vacantly at the commercials on the TV.
“Are you alright?”
“I got regen,” Peter told. His voice was void of inflection. He was simply too exhausted.
“Claire’s around?”
“She’s in Washington. Haven’t seen her in months.” The uncle and the niece will never be able to see eye to eye on evos exposure. Peter wondered when Claire will finally admit that things were going downhill with each passing day.
Sylar got up and sat next to him on the couch, a formidable fortress next to his drifting soul. “Did you get hurt?”
“A guy stabbed me. He was on drugs.”
“Did anyone see you heal?”
“Hesam.”
“What is your current power?”
Peter sighed and threw his head back to glower at the ceiling, “I have x-ray vision, but then regen came on too. I have both now.”
For a moment, Sylar was speechless. Peter can tell that multiple analysis and possibilities were running through his head but there was just no way to determine the complexity of this ability. “How is that a bad thing though?”
The paramedic turned to the man with a slight glare, “My power doesn’t work that way anymore. I can only copy one at a time, which means there’s something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” It was said with utmost certainty and confidence. Peter wished he had Sylar’s conviction, but he can feel his equilibrium wavering dangerously like a boat in the storm. He cannot see straight. He was overwhelmed with hundreds of thoughts every minute.
“It’s your empathy, Peter.” Sylar continued, a hand slunk over and rested on his thigh, anchoring him. “Your empathy is working overtime because of the situations and sufferings around you. It’s bringing back the full potential your empathic mimicry.”
There was a time when Peter mourned the loss of his original ability, but now there was only a sense of dread at its return. He did not have the strength or the clear-mindedness to handle everything at the moment.
“Do you want to take over the world?” Sylar suddenly asked, drawing out an instinctive chuckle from Peter.
The ambulance was tensed the next time they were on shift. The paramedics did not know how to deal with the elephant in the room. Peter took a quick glance at his partner guiltily. Hesam should not have to bear the pressure of whether to report Peter to the federal agents guarding the hospital.
“Hesam, listen…”
“You’re one of them all along.”
The partner’s tone was scalding and Peter flinched. “Hesam, I-“
“It was you all along,” Hesam reiterated, “all those miraculous saves, wasn’t it?”
Peter returned his eyes to the road. They were stuck in traffic going back to the hospital. There was nowhere to run. He had to face it. “Listen… I was just trying to help.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
The hurt in the man’s voice surprised Peter. A quick glimpse at the partner’s face showed his apparent disappointment. Peter swallowed the sudden bile lodged in his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who to trust. I was afraid of scaring you, and with the registry in place now, I’m just…”
The sentence died as Peter’s mind wandered. He cannot even be sure he was not on the Federal government’s evo list now. The White House knew about him and Nathan when Sylar tried to impersonate President Nelly, did they not?
“I’ll not out you to the registry. Those agents at the hospital can kiss my ass. They’re always in the way.” Hesam grumbled. The reassurance was heartfelt to Peter despite its bluntness. The FBI had dispatched their people to every hospitals and medical centres in the country, watching for abnormal blood work and strange patient conditions. Peter did not even know they had that many agents in employment.
“Peter,” The empath was startled out of his thoughts, only to find Hesam watching him with compassion, “everything will be alright, okay?”
“Okay…”
Claire was waiting for him outside his apartment when he came home that day. The girl looked defeated standing there in a plaid work suit and heels. “Hey…” she greeted weakly and Peter immediately opened his arms to her.
Half an hour later, Peter had changed into a sweater and they were both lounging at the dining table. There was a melancholy in the air and the empath already knew the niece came bearing bad news.
“You were right,” Claire confessed quietly, “jumping was a bad idea.” It did not need a response. They both knew Peter was vehemently against her action that night.
Despite that, he still mustered a kind smile for the niece. “How are you doing, Claire?”
“They’ll force us to wear bracelet tags with trackers. Permanent ones. We won’t be able to take them off, at least not that easily.”
Peter froze, completely horrified as realization sank in. “What are you talking about?” Evos were already trying to hide themselves to escape prejudice and the Registry, surely the White House would not aggravate the delicate situation further.
“They’ve just decided on it, the Cabinet. The President will announce the executive order tomorrow.”
“No, this is a bad idea. We can’t let them do this!”
“It’s happening, Peter. They have their agents and the military in place to arrest any evo who doesn’t comply. It’ll be a lightning operation, fast and unavoidable.”
“This will put evos in danger. There’re already so many hate crimes.”
“I know!” Claire exploded. Her young face contorted in anger – but not at Peter. “I know we’re being segregated. They’re considering whether to assign our residential and jobs by force too. They don’t know whether some of us deserve our positions in the workplace since we have extra advantage. They’re talking about cutting down our pay.”
“What does that even mean? Shouldn’t they encourage us to work in the field that can benefit from our abilities?”
“I don’t know! We argued with them but it’s like railing against the wall. They’re not budging.” Claire sprang up from the chair and paced the room in frustration, hands in her hair. “Tracy ran, by the way.”
Peter frowned. He was hearing her, but everything appeared underwater right now. He cannot untangle the situation. All he perceived was the guilt eating Claire whole.
“She knew where this was going and she disappeared two days ago, left her position in the White House just like that.” Claire exhaled shakily, “guess she’s smarter than the rest of us.”
“Claire…this is not your fault.”
“Peter,” tears were starting to spill from the girl’s sad eyes, “don’t patronize me. You were right.”
Peter was quick to hold her as she wept. His heart broke at the innocence stolen from her. It was unfair to put such weight on her, but the White House only accept 3 evos as advisors – Claire, Tracy Strauss and the former Company director, Angela Petrelli.
"I’ve been to several futures. Evos are public knowledge in each of them regardless of what’d happened, you understand me? It’s just the path we must take, a fate of evolution.”
Claire’s sobs quietened down slowly as she pondered at his revelation. “Did it all end badly? In these alternate futures?”
The empath could not answer her. He cannot bear feeding her a lie.
Claire nodded bravely and let go of him. “Peter, you must be careful. Even if your name is not on the Registry at this point, they would be watching you because of your family and me.”
“I know,” Peter said softly, “I know.”
At 7 in the morning after the President’s new policies announcement concerning evos, the hospital personnel on shift at that time were all gathered at the emergency point just next to the ambulance bay. There were hundreds of them. The air was stifling as they all stood alert and tense. Surrounding them were SWAT teams with rifles, like hounds guarding the sheep due for slaughter.
Emma met Peter’s eyes with trepidation. She was a short distance away with a group of administrative staffs. The empath nodded at her with a weak smile.
“Welcome all.” The CEO of Mercy Heights had taken the stage with a few other hefty men in suits. “I know we’re taking your time but please bear with us. We have all heard the President’s national address an hour ago. The FBI is here with us today. They will start implementing the tracking bracelets now. So I’ll pass the time to our Head of HR Mr. Singh. If he calls your name, please make your way to the tent at my right. The officers will set you right up. It’ll only take a few minutes, won’t be long.” There was a strained smile on her face the entire time.
It was the same with Mr. Singh.
“Alright everyone, let’s start with Adam Manfred.”
Adam was a radiology tech hand. He had been there for more than 10 years. The nearing 40-year-old man jumped at his own name and spun around in panic.
“Adam Manfred, low-threat evo. Please follow the agent to the tent.” Mr. Singh pointed, smile still on his face. Adam was quickly led away by a SWAT member. His panic had passed and now he looked downright scared and defeated.
Peter closed his eyes in anguish.
“It’s alright, Peter.” Hesam whispered to him. Names were continued to be called – some expected and some unexpected. The crowd of staffs was starting to get slightly loud and rowdy with surprise and disbelief. The list went on and on and on until finally, Emma’s name was called. She did not even glance at Peter as she squared her shoulders and made her way to the tent. He knew she was trying to protect him, but it just broke him down further.
Peter heard the window to his apartment slide open and close but he was completely unbothered. It was Sylar. He simply knew.
The friend came into his bedroom and sat on the floor next to his mattress, yet he found it too tiresome to get up from his sprawl.
Sylar placed a hand on his back, firm and comforting. “Emma?”
“Yeah, they got her. I don’t know how they knew.”
Sylar hummed. The atmosphere of the city was hushed with despair tonight. It did not help that the weather was turning biting cold as the days crept into December. It pained the heart to know that most evos would be robbed of the joy and normalcy of Christmas.
“Where are you staying?”
For a minute there, Sylar did not answer. Peter almost thought he was not going to. It would defeat the purpose of him disappearing right after Claire’s Ferris wheel jump after all.
“The Circus. It’s at New Jersey right now, hidden in plain sight.”
“I kind of knew it.”
“I know you knew, Peter.” Sylar inclined his head. “Just like I know exactly when and where to look for you.”
Peter continued staring at the dining chair legs in his line of vision. He was starving but he cannot gather the strength to cook. His body was fatigued eventhough he had regeneration. Nothing made sense.
“I didn’t leave you because I was scared of getting caught.” Sylar suddenly told. “I left because I knew you needed the space.”
That got Peter to shift on the futon to look up at the friend curiously.
“I didn’t abandon you. I needed to give you time to grief Nathan in the real world. Do you understand?”
Tears leaked from Peter’s eyes and he nodded. He knew that too, just like he knew the warmth of the sun would heal his soul. Understanding Sylar just comes natural since the mental prison.
Just like it was natural for Sylar to understand him too. “I’ll go make you some pasta, alright? Take a nap.”
The following day was met with an incident so horrifying that it took Peter’s mind off the Registry and bracelet tag situation. Hesam and him were called to New York Times Square itself - the busiest part of the city. A troop of fire fighters and another team of paramedics were already on site, looking up at an SUV dangling out of the 5th floor parking lot of a school theatre building.
“What on earth…” Hesam echoed Peter’s shock. They can see a woman and at least three children in the car, suspended by their seatbelts. There were a number of rescue workers up there trying to calm the panicking family down.
“A truck drove into them and they hit the wall. The wall gave out,” one of the worried onlookers helpfully told them. The NYPD Captain barking orders at everyone was just too busy to talk to the EMT.
“So what? We just wait here?” a tall paramedic from the other team asked with unease. The crowd control was not going too well either. Throngs of people swam around the police officers who were trying to herd them away from the scene. Most of them had their cellphones out for the viral-worthy sight.
“Can you see whether the woman is bleeding?” the paramedics started assessing.
“From the ears, yes I think so.”
“We have to prep the gurney. They’re gonna move the fire trucks around an-“
A loud, chilling screech raised the hairs on Peter’s neck. They all looked up at the car again. It seemed to have inched forward and its body was more outside of the building than before. The New York crowds gasped and murmured in trepidation. They can all hear the children in the car shrieking in fright.
A talkie from a fire fighter nearby came alive. “The SUV cannot grip the floor. There’s an oil spill up here from the crash. Hurry up with the aerial ladder. Over.”
“Negative. No road access, blocked by a restaurant patio and bus stop. We’re getting the truck up to pull the car back.”
“Negative, oil spill on big area, no traction, narrow space.”
Peter heard the fire chief cursed. The first responders were all sweating. “What do we do?” the NYPD Captain asked, but no answer was forthcoming.
Peter shot a troubled look at Hesam before marching over to the people in charge. His exasperated partner was close at his heels to see how far his stupidity goes. “We should get an evo who can help.” Peter blurted out to them.
The reaction was instant and transparent. The fire chief was surprised and the NYPD Captain was scowling at him with vehemence. “Stand aside, medic. Let us decide what to –“
The sentence was left unfinished as the SUV squealed one last time and started falling. Peter was not sure what truly happened, but he can see a number of officers and accidental passersby right in the path of the car’s fall. There was no time to think, really. The heavy vehicle was plummeting fast towards the ground and the petrified faces of the victims inside the car was enough of a motivation.
Peter lifted his hand, and the plunge of the vehicle halted midair.
Did time freeze? There was silence all around him except for the creaks of the car. The mother inside the SUV was slowly opening her tightly shut eyes in confusion. Peter grunted at the strain of the telekinetic hold.
“What the hell…” he finally heard the incredulity of the Captain. This was a bad idea. At the back of his mind, Peter wondered how was he using telekinesis when his current powers were x-ray vision and cellular regeneration. When did he get it from Sylar?
“Peter…” Hesam’s voice was barely above a whisper, tensed and stressed, “Put the car down slowly. The people below are gone.” True enough, the officers and passersby had scrambled away from the SUV’s trajectory.
Peter slowly lowered his hand. His muscles were pulled taut from the mental exertion. The car was heavier than he expected, but he had to be gentle – the woman in the car was already injured.
Once the car landed on the ground, everyone released their pent-up breathes but none of them utter a word. Peter bent over and panted, wiping away blood from his nose. His head rang but not from the telekinesis usage. Instead, he can feel the three powers fighting to settle within his core, and he did not have the peace of mind to resolve it.
“Medic,” a stern voice called out to him. He raised his eyes to the displeased ones of the NYPD Captain. “Go home.”
Peter did not go home to his empty apartment. Instead, he flew up to the rooftop of a luxury condominium near his place. He needed the quiet but he did not want to be alone. The pigeons pecking on the floor here were poor substitutes for human companions, but at least his overthinking mind stilled as he watched the animated birds listlessly.
“You went viral, pup.”
Peter jumped, whirling around immediately. To say that he was startled by the ghost of his past was an understatement. Claude Raines was standing right before him in the flesh.
“What?” he breathed. Peter was staring too long, he knew, trying to match the person in front of him with the mentor he remembered. Claude’s beard was trimmed tidily and his hair was combed back. His wore a body-fitting shirt under a nice, dark blue trench coat. “You’re the last person I expected to see.”
“Is that so?” the man smirked, but it was without his usual bite. He started to walk and circle Peter very slowly. “You have no reason coming here this often then? The unusual presence of this many pigeons did not intrigue you?”
“I-“ Peter frowned, “It’s you? The pigeons are here because of you?”
Claude chuckled softly, “I’m feeding them here. I bet you went to every rooftop within your vicinity to get that nostalgic feeling back and found this one.”
Peter did not favour that with a reply but his cheeks pinked. It was true. It was not because he missed Claude that badly but he did wonder where the man was sometimes. “You look good,” he told genuinely. It stung a little that the mentor had moved on without making a single contact to let Peter know that he was alright.
“I saw the news of your explosion. They called it a meteor.”
“That was ages ago.” It truly felt like another lifetime.
“I straightened up after that,” Claude told, suddenly very solemn. His pale blue eyes reflected the sun. “You practically disappeared. I thought you were dead for a long time.”
Peter furrowed his brows, not knowing what to say. Was Claude worried? Did Claude grieve for him? That made one of him. No one noticed that Peter was gone.
“I reconnected with my kids. Got a job. Got a lovely loft.”
“That’s nice…”
“What I’m trying to say is, Peter… You do change lives.”
Peter instantly blinked away unbidden tears that sprang to his eyes. His chest felt hot and constricted, like it was hurting from cuts he did not even knew he suffered. He never felt appreciated. All he had ever been was a burden or an idiot, most of the time both.
“I say fuck them, Peter. You do you. We can be heroes.”
The next day, with a good night sleep and the warmth of Claude’s encouragement, Peter plodded into the hospital with a one-minded focus on the ambulance bay like any other day. The staffs ogled at him as he passed, but he weathered through it all and gave Emma a brave smile when he drifted past her. The orange bracelet on her wrist was an eyesore, and she told him how the other clerks in her department were afraid to talk to her after the tag. This would be him too now, he realized with a strange sense of acceptance. Come what may. The serious evos hate crimes was a bigger concern right now. He needed to do his job.
A military team was standing by at the bay when Peter arrived. The paramedic hesitated and slowed his steps.
“Peter,” Hesam looked choked with apprehension, like he wanted to warn Peter but they all know it was of no use.
“It’s okay, Hesam.”
“Mr. Petrelli, we’re from the Defense Department under the President’s Executive Order to put a bracelet tag on you,” one of the men there addressed him. He did not look particularly mean-spirited or vile, just merely doing his job.
Peter sighed in resignation and held out his right arm. Two other military personnel came to put the bracelet on him. Small and thin metal spikes pierced into his flesh once the bracelet locked in, causing the empath to hiss in pain. But at least he was already expecting it - Claire and Emma had told him.
“What the fuck…” Hesam could not contain his distaste, glaring at the departing men.
Peter though, was stunned and taken aback by Matt Parkman’s presence at the entrance of the ER. He was a hundred percent certain that the telepath was not there earlier.
“Come, Peter.” Matt called out to him. He was fidgety. Peter quickly followed him to the side of the ambulance bay. Meanwhile, Hesam seemed to be absorbed in checking their trunk all of a sudden.
Peter frowned, “Are you controlling him?”
“Yes,” Matt said bluntly, looking very nervous. “I’m manipulating those guys too,” he gestured at the military team that idled in the ER like lost tourists, “I’m supposed to be with them.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “You’re working for the White House?”
“I have no choice! They’re forcing me!”
“What?” Peter was taken aback, immediately concerned, “Matt are you alright? What’d happened?”
The telepath began pacing. Nurses and doctors walked past them but no one gave them a second glance. “They found Rebel, Peter. He’s just a kid, a teenager, but he’s also a powerful technopath. The White House wants to use his ability. They placed him under my care and made us work for them. They threatened us using each other.”
“What are you talking about?” Peter shook his head in disbelief. “They got you? Where’s your family now?”
“They’re with Mohinder.” Matt met his eyes and the empath felt his own heart throbbed with desperation in sync with the friend. “I sent Janice and my son to India the day the agents approached me. Mohinder is over there trying to find ways to break this off.” Matt lifted his right arm to show the orange bracelet tag.
“What did they have you do, Matt? And Rebel?”
“And other powerful evos, Peter. Some under employment contracts like your mother and Claire, some by force like me.” The telepath swallowed anxiously. “They’re planning to contain all the powerful evos in a facility, ready for their use. They want to go to war with the Middle East again, but you know how the Arabs have allies on their side too. The White House needs evos to guarantee a win.”
“So they’re ready to imprison us in a facility to help them fight a war?”
“Probably multiple wars, and multiple other uses too. They’re planning it right now. They know they can’t control us while we roam free. Their scientists are finding ways to subdue our powers when needed so that we don’t do shits like this right now behind their back.”
Peter’s stomach churned at the information. How naïve of him to only fear hate crimes and the revival of Building 26. The US government wanted to turn them into slaves…
“Peter…”
“What do you need me to do? How do I get you out?”
“Peter, listen carefully.” Matt told with a frightening intensity. “I need you to get Sylar, alright?”
The empath instantly nodded.
“I need you to get Sylar to the White House to kill the Secretary of Defense and the Vice President.”
Peter flinched, horrors piled up on horrors. The empath was starting to doubt his own comprehension of the conversation. “What?”
“You mother would know. I need to leave now. Their other team would realize we’re gone too long.”
“Sylar just…recovered from his urge to kill. We can’t do this to him. We can’t ask him to just kil-“
“Peter!” Matt reproached fiercely, “This is between the life and death of our kind. It’s the sacrifice required of him, of you, of us all.”
The empath meekly backed down, unwittingly picking up on the telepath’s distress. “I’ll call Mohinder to make sure your family is okay. We’ll come for you too.”
Matt nodded, his eyes wet with turmoil. Without another word, the man left and rejoined the military personnel.
It had been months since he visited the Petrelli mansion. His mother was outstationed most of the time and he cannot bear to linger in a house built on lies and grief all alone.
“Peter,” Angela greeted him with an affectionate smile and a touch to his cheek. Physically, she looked healthy and well but the empath can sense that she was weighed down by troubles. “I knew you would come find me,” she began as she led Peter to their dining room. Striding past a hallway full of photos frames, Peter sent a silent prayer to Nathan.
“You know why I’m here, ma?”
“Do you know what you need to do now?”
“Did you send Matt Parkman to me?” he asked warily.
Angela’s brows lifted, “No, but I did guess it would either be him or Tracy Strauss. The result would be the same – you need to get Sylar to kill the Secretary of Defense and the VP.”
“But why them, mom? Is there no other way? We’re talking about assassinating two of the most powerful people in our country!”
“It has to be them. They have to be eliminated permanently.” Angela’s delicate hands came up to gently clamp on her son’s face. “You have to do this, Peter. Sylar would only listen to you and he’s the only one among us with a killer instinct. Those two men are the masterminds behind the evos policies and entrapment. The President and his Cabinet are being pressed by these two to take drastic, mindless actions. They’re spreading fears towards us. They’re rallying for war with other countries. I was at their council meetings and sessions. I heard everything. They’ll tear not only our nation, but the world apart.”
Peter stepped away from her to exhale his uncertainty. Flashes of some vanished futures sped across his mind – visions of the earth split in two. His thoughts ran in several different directions and the clanks of the pots and silverware in the kitchen was suddenly too much for him.
“You have to do this, Peter.” Angela urged softly, “Sylar has to do it. Those men are on an official diplomatic travel throughout Europe to rally support next Monday. They’ll be back in two weeks. You and Sylar have to plan everything to the t by then and execute it perfectly.”
“But it doesn’t really fix everything, ma. Killing those people don’t guarantee everything going back to the way it was.”
“You’re right. But it would guarantee our survival.” Angela drew near to him again. Her fondness for him tided over him in waves. “You’re stronger than you think, Peter.”
“Mrs. Petrelli, dinner is ready.”
They startled a little at the interruption. The maid went away quickly.
“Once they’re dead, there would be less strong voices calling for evos’ heads. I would be able to speak to their councils more freely. Claire and I would show them our subservience to them for the time being, let them get use to our existence and slowly do away with their backward intent for slavery. You understand that right, Peter?”
Peter nodded reluctantly.
“How did you come up here, Peter?”
It was absurd that they were literally on top of the crown of the Statue of Liberty. The wind was much stronger here than inside the observatory, but the view was much more unobstructed.
“I flew.”
“You flew?” Sylar examined him with his sharp, midnight eyes. “You gained another power?”
“I was thinking of Nathan a lot these past few days.”
The ex-serial killer hummed and took a few steps out onto one of the spikes. “You miss him. You need him. Are you alright, Peter?”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.” Peter took a deep breath and ventured out to join Sylar on the narrow path. “Matt came to see me. He got taken by the military. Rebel is with him.”
After ten minutes, everything was laid out in between them. The man was still watching him intently but the empath can sense the distrust and betrayal Sylar felt. Peter hung his head in remorse.
“I’m sorry, Sylar. I didn’t want to put this on you either.”
The December sky was dark and hushed, but the city below was a wonder of lights and motions. The contrast was beautiful. What can he say? He promised the former serial killer that he will stop him if he becomes that man again, and yet he was the one asking Sylar to soil his hands once more.
Peter tugged at the friend pleadingly when words failed. The cold winds ruffled their hair and Peter shivered.
“I know it’s not your fault. It has to be done,” Sylar drew near to him like a moth to a flame. Their eyes met. The watchmaker looked determined and strong, always a dependable protector when it comes to Peter, strange as it may sound.
The empath conveyed his gratitude across their mental bond, wrapping the friend in his warmth. Sylar, in turn, came to embrace Peter, physically shielding him from the icy breeze.
“It has to be done,” Peter repeated to himself.
Peter had been on edge the whole day today. Hesam had some urgent family issue and travelled back to his hometown in Iran. Their Field Supervisor Terry had brusquely asked Peter to ride with Jones despite the coworker being vocally hateful of evos since Claire’s jump.
Peter’s patience was severely tested by lunchtime. He was quick to bolt away from the ambulance. They brought in an evo involved in a traffic accident earlier, and Peter swore Jones jostle the patient intentionally while transporting the injured girl on their gurney. She was gray with pain by the time they reached the ambulance. He knew he cannot report this to HR because Jones would just deny it. He had to be tactful seeking the right help.
While running through options in his head, the paramedic happened to spot Emma at the top of the stairs in their hospital lobby. There were a few other people with her. He recognized two from Radiology and one from Neurology. Emma looked distressed as they crowded in on her.
Peter frowned. “Hey!” his voice was lost among the chatty lunch mob and frazzled loved ones of patients. One moment he was heading towards the quartets, the next Emma was pushed down the stairs.
“Emma!” he took off running. There were yelps of surprised and alarm as people noticed the commotion. Peter was the first to reach her at the bottom of the stairs. “Emma, you okay?”
She looked up at him with hurt eyes, shaken and speechless.
“Does anything hurt?”
She shook her head and tried to give reassuring smiles at concerned onlookers, moving to stand with Peter’s help.
The paramedic shot a furious look up at their hostile coworkers. The culprits had blatant smirks on their faces, watching the whole scene with amusement. It blew Peter’s mind that such professionals can do such thing in a professional environment where it was their duty to help people. With a compulsion for justice, Peter started to advance on the group but was instantly stopped by Emma with a hand on his tagged wrist.
“Peter, it’s not worth it.”
“Emma, they pushed you. I saw it.”
“They are counting on us to make a scene, to make the hospital think we’re not worth the trouble. They want us gone from here.”
Peter gritted his teeth and continued to glare heatedly at them. The one from Neurology suddenly flinched whole bodily. And then the other two followed. They swiveled and eyed the empty air around them in apprehension. Peter, in the meantime, bit his lips. He saw blue electricity sparked and fizzled along their backs just seconds before that. He did not know whether he was the one who caused it.
“Peter,” Emma drew his attention back to her. She looked resigned and tired. The empath’s heart softened at the sight. “Can you have lunch with me?”
Later that night, alone in his apartment, Peter watched the colours formed by the noise of his TV.
Sylar’s melancholy led Peter to Coney Island Beach at 2 in the morning. He joined the friend on a lone bench facing the sea. The full moon had pulled the tide in and waves lapped at the sands near their boots, but never touching them.
“Do you know your Haitian friend is missing?”
Peter startled, “Renee?” The empath panicked when Sylar nodded. “But he went back to Haiti last year. Did he go missing in Haiti?”
“Your mother called him back here to help when evos became public knowledge and all. He went missing last week.”
“And they didn’t tell me?” Peter felt frustration crawled up his chest. “He helped us so much. Why aren’t we doing anything to help him?”
“Maybe we are.” Sylar said calmly. Peter felt a gentle telekinetic tug flipping his jacket’s collar up. It raised the hairs on his neck and calmed him all at the same time. “Maybe that’s why your mother set things in motion so suddenly. That’s why they were eager for me to start killing again. They want to save their own.”
Peter turned away, letting cold wind whip against his face. “The military… They’re trying to create a power damper, isn’t it? That’s why they need Renee. They don’t know how to make it. They don’t have information from the previous Company.”
Sylar hummed in agreement. A long arm snaked across Peter’s shoulders to rest against the back of the bench.
“How did you know all these?”
“Noah Bennet’s office is interesting to visit after 11 at night. He isn’t aware that I know all his passcodes.”
The two men relaxed on the seat for a while. The night was quiet and serene today, balanced by the vibrant energy painted from the city skyline in the distant. A nocturnal bird flitted across the dark water.
“Sylar,” the empath’s voice was soft and docile, “you’re…off.”
The watchmaker looked over at him, “Am I now?”
“Yeah, it’s like… you’re disappearing.”
Sylar tilted his head at him with a condescending yet fond smirk, “I’m right here, Peter.”
“You’re hurting.”
The watchmaker sighed and turned back to the sea. Peter, in the meantime, watched his friend with an arguably unmerited compassion.
“You don’t have to kill again, Sylar. We’ll find another way.”
“There’s no other way,” The killer’s face was emotionless, “It’s the reason I broke into Noah’s office - to retrieve stolen copies of government official minutes. I knew he and your mother are monitoring every meeting closely, and true enough they have records of everything. The Secretary and the VP are the ones pulling strings against us. They’re very convincing figures. People listen to them, including the President.”
“There’s always another way, Sylar.” Peter reached out to grab the friend’s hand. The mental bond in between them flared with fervor. “The thought of killing again is stressing you out. You’re scared of the hunger coming back. You don’t want to do it.”
“We have no choice, Peter.”
“There’s always a choice and you’ve made yours in Parkman’s prison. We can’t ask you to reverse it.”
“Then who’s gonna do it?” Sylar snapped at him, temper raging against the impossibility of it all.
Peter met his eyes calmly, beseechingly. “I dreamt of a mountain top, high above everything else. There’s no one else there except us.”
Sylar frowned, but then he became mildly amused. “You want to lock us in a mind prison again?”
“I’m saying, maybe the wars they want did happen.”
Realization dawned in the watchmaker. “Nuclear wipes out everything and there’s just us. We’re the only ones who survived.”
Peter nodded.
Sylar stared at him in silent awe, “I’m so sorry, Peter. I’ve done you in.” The man raised a hand to stroke the empath’s hair in an unfamiliar affectionate gesture, taming his hair in the wind. “Do you really value my redemption enough to sacrifice the rest of the world?”
The empath’s brows furrowed. Both outcomes were unthinkable and Peter battled within himself.
“Your compassion for me is overpowering your logic, but that same compassion will realize that our sacrifice is needed to save our kind.” Sylar drew him closer, gently touching their foreheads together. “And if I fall from grace again, remember where my kill spot is, my dear friend.”
When Peter and Hesam arrived at Chinatown at 2 in the afternoon, the street in front of a dim sum restaurant was already swarmed by police officers. They had barricaded the area this time and their guns were drawn, pointing at a feral-looking man who had a little girl of about eight years old in a chokehold. There was a woman crying and reasoning with him right there at the front line.
“Tend to the mother. She was slashed in the side,” an officer barked at Hesam and himself. The scene was hectic and the two paramedics struggled through the crowd to get to the distraught woman.
“Ma’am, please let us help you,” Peter urged softly, taking her by the arm to lead her further away from danger. He can see blood flowing and staining her shirt red. It did not look like a minor cut. Hesam was already opening their medical kit.
“He has my child!” the unmoving woman told Peter in distress. “Please help her. Those cops wouldn’t get her back.”
Peter frowned and looked at the situation more closely. The little girl was turning blue. The brute was cutting off her airway. “She’s one of them!” he screeched like a mad man. “We have to exterminate them! They’re gonna kill us all!”
Peter blanched and shared a look with Hesam. This was another evo hate crime.
“Sir, let the girl go,” one of the officer ordered, almost lazily. Their arms were getting tired and a few guns were already lowered. And eventhough there was a clear shot of the man, there did not seem to be any plan being sorted out. It was like they were all watching a zoo exhibit with a misbehaving lion.
“Mommy!” the little girl cried out despite weakening down, small voice filled with terror. Her face was red and smudged with tears. Peter clenched his fists. There was no way he was going to let things get worse because of the cops’ inaction.
All of a sudden though, the little girl started glowing.
Her skin shone and pulsated with increasing intensity – like an erupting star. She looked confused and scared. Her eyes searched for her mother but her irises were turning luminous.
Peter’s jaw dropped in shock. It brought back an unpleasant memory. “What on earth…” he heard Hesam faltered. Peter knew this power well. The instability and the uncontrollable force of its nature was no joke. The man holding the girl hissed in pain and let go of her. His skin was starting to boil.
“She’s burning me!”
“What’s happening? She’s getting brighter!”
“Ella! Baby, I’m right here-“
“Mommy, I can’t see clearly.”
“She’s gonna explode!”
A gunshot.
The little girl collapsed to the floor. Peter gaped without comprehension.
The little girl had a bullet in her head. Her eyes were vacant as she stared up at the cloudy sky. The light from her radiation dimmed and blood started spreading on the ground like spider webs.
“Ella!” the woman they were tending to shrieked hysterically and ran to the girl. For some reasons, the cops released a few more shots at the dead child. One of the bullets hit the mother in the chest by accident.
“What are you guys doing?!” Peter bellowed, finally freed from his catatonic horror.
The officers only favoured him with a brief, dismissing glance, “we had to make sure.”
Peter felt his fury rise dangerously, “Make sure of what?! She’s a kid held captive by a man, and your solution is to shoot her?” His powers pulsed within him, ignited by sorrow and rage. The whole arsenal of abilities warred with each other for dominance.
The cops suddenly looked worried. “Evo, stand down,” they shouted at him, eyes going to his bracelet tag. Peter followed their sight and noticed that his own hands were glowing.
“Peter…” Hesam called out to him. He was on the ground next to the fallen mother. She managed to reach her little girl in time, delicate hand gripping her tiny one.
But they were both dead. It was too late.
In the midst of it all, Hesam was calm. His eyes had a stony resolution for vengeance. “Do what you need,” the partner said to Peter, giving near reckless support for whatever he plans to do next.
The empath lifted his hands to look at them. He can feel the force of his powers flooding his entire being. Possibilities and futures flashed across his vision and a strange stillness overtook him. “You didn’t have to kill her,” he coldly addressed the officers.
It instantly startled the cops into shooting at him, but with a brisk swipe of telekinesis, their bullets fell to the ground. Peter can see them blanched in his peripheral vision. His glow got more intense as the seconds ticked by. The mother and daughter’s bodies fueled Peter’s wrath and without warning, his radiation detonated like blazing bomb to engulf the cops and the forgotten brute.
There was a sense of justice served as they screamed in terror and pain. These bullies were suddenly so helpless. All these months of people with special abilities getting hurt and killed because the law enforcements were not protecting them anymore…
But what was he doing? Peter recoiled at his own cruelty and lawlessness. What was he doing? Was he trying to kill police officers?
There were terrified cries as throngs of onlookers scattered hastily. Within the veil of white haze, the empath only saw frightened faces looking back at him.
Peter’s radioactive blast instantly died, but not before melting off his bracelet tag. He took one last look at his partner, who nodded at him, before taking off into the sky. He knew that he was never coming back again.
“Ah, there you are.”
Peter was not astounded this time. He watched dispassionately as Charles Deveaux walked into the room. The gentle old man had an affable smile on his face. He settled down on his leather couch with a smile and looked at the paramedic expectantly.
“You’re walking.”
“Excellent observation, my boy.”
“And you’re younger…”
Charles grinned with kindness. Wrinkles were not lastingly etched on his face yet. He looked to be in his 40s. Nonetheless, he seemed at peace in his dusty, unsold penthouse. It had been abandoned for years after Simone’s death and plastic sheets covered almost everything except this leather couch. There was just nowhere else Peter can find safety.
“I still can’t figure out whether I went back in time or you’ve come to me in the present, but how could that be? You’re gone.”
“Does it really matter?”
Peter gulped, “How long do you know me, Charles?”
“Since you were a baby.”
“Yes, but…how long?”
Charles’ face softened with understanding and comfort. “I’m with you all your life, Peter. You’re important.”
Peter squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach rolled and there was no way out of this current mess. “Then you should know what I’ve done. I tried to kill some cops in public. My face is on the news and it just made things worse for us evos.”
“Specials,”
“What?” Peter frowned and looked back at the man.
“You used to call us specials, Peter. You’re losing faith.”
“I’m losing my sanity,” the empath trembled with a whisper. “I don’t know what to do.”
Charles laid a firm hand on his back, grounding him. The fatherly warmth that he used to long for from Arthur had always been found in Charles instead. “Peter, you’re the most powerful one of us all because of your unconditional love. Yes, you may slip sometimes because love is a fire, but you will eventually find your way as usual. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Charles, I…” Peter took in the man’s countenance. He did not know whether he will see his ghost again. “Thank you for watching over me.”
The graceful man lit up with fondness for him, “My pleasure, son.”
Peter heard Sylar’s approaching footsteps crunching the leaves underneath his boots. It was one in the afternoon but the graveyard in the middle of New York City was serene and untouched by metropolitan hubbub. The watchmaker sat next to him in front of Nathan’s grave. The empath can sense his concern.
“Your eyes are white, Peter.”
“I’m seeing multiple futures even when I don’t want to,” he told. “All my past powers have returned to me. I can’t control them.”
“Yes you can,” was the sure reply. He wondered whether Sylar can see the boundless drone of powers running through his veins, centering at his brain. There was a time when he was just a prize to the former killer.
“They want to arrest Claire and my mother for my crimes.”
“They didn’t get to. Noah hid them at the Carnival. I made sure of that. They’re safe.”
“I know,” Peter said softly. “Thank you, Sylar.”
“You have to come too, Peter. They’re looking for you,” the man urged. Sylar’s genuine and pervasive care towards him was strengthening their mental bond. Peter felt closer to him more than ever. He had always been the empath’s sentinel, even when they both did not realize it.
“I can’t go with you, Sylar.” He told softly. He had thought about it for two whole days, weighing the outcomes of the world carefully. “I’m seeing many possible endings for us, and the differences converge right at this point. If we go into hiding now and work in the dark, the White House will gain more control and use evos to attack other nations. It’ll spark a world war which will worsen the health of the planet. Billions will die. And you’re right, I can’t live with us letting it happen,” he turned to the friend. Visions of horror faded away and he was looking right into Sylar’s midnight eyes. Those grey orbs never skip past him or underestimate him, even when they were still mortal enemies. “We have no other choice…”
Sylar’s thick brows furrowed, “Peter, we have a choice. You said it yourself.”
“My choice is that I won’t let you do it. You cannot stain your soul again. Let me do it. I’m already a monster in their eyes.”
“Killing the VP and the Secretary may not change much. Somebody else might-“
“That’s why I’m going to kill all of them. At least there’ll be international attention and the successors will be in the spotlight. They won’t be able to continue with their plan.”
“Peter!” Sylar was angry. He looked frustrated and worried. His heart ached for Peter, the empath can feel it all the way to his core. “Let’s think about it, Peter. You don’t want to stain my soul? What about yours?!”
“I’m already turning into a bomb.” Tears leaked from Peter’s eyes “It’s going to be alright. I’m sorry, Sylar.”
“Peter!”
The empath was gone in a blink.
Sylar cursed and hurriedly dialed a well-memorized number on his burner phone with an unaccustomed sense of urgency. He had been invincible since becoming Sylar, but now distress overtook him like a drowning wave.
“What now?”
“Edgar, is Hiro at the Carnival? I need him to come to me right now. Peter teleported to the White House. I can’t fly there that fast!”
There were at least forty people in the conference room hidden at the West Wing of the White House when Peter appeared – the highest powers of the nation. The Secret Service were the first to move, pushing their charges down and pulling their guns out to shoot at the evo. Peter merely shrugged off the bullets like irritating bugs. An unintentional glance at the long table in the middle of the room showed scattered papers of top secret locations, action plans, the Registry report and individual information of evos. Among the litter, there was a photo of Renee, shackled to a metal table in a laboratory, unconscious and drained of colours.
Peter’s fury boiled. The door slammed shut, locking them all in.
“You’re that evo…” President Osdell exclaimed in shock. All their faces paled, panic overtaking their stance.
“Evo, stand down!”
“We can talk about this,” the VP, a cunning man named Justin Belsh, tried to reason with him. “We understand you’re upset. We can hash out some deals for you, son.”
A tingle travelled through Peter’s whole body. Lie detection came in so handy at times like this.
“How many more are you keeping like this?” Peter pointed to Renee’s photo on the table. The VP blanched.
“That’s just the one. He’s a violent criminal. We’re just keeping him contained until we can find a suitable rehabilitation for him.” It was the Secretary General who replied this time, a prideful man shrinking behind a few agents.
Another tingle though.
“Is he still alive?”
No one dared to answer Peter. The empath knew his tolerance had come to an end when the things nearest to him started to vibrate and melt with heat.
He was burning. He remembered being so afraid the first time he exploded, but that fear was pushed beneath the surface now.
A hum that emanated from his exceedingly volatile powers got more and more deafening. The people in the room were starting to cry out in fright, scrambling to the bolted door. They would not be able to open it, Peter made sure of that.
“How many are in your lab?”
“Please, we’ll let them go!” A prominent Attorney General cried out. But it was just another tingle down Peter’s spine.
“How many have you all killed?”
“We don’t execute anyone. There’s no killing involved.”
“Where is Rebel?”
“Evo, we will release them. Let’s talk properly. We give you our word.”
“We just want to protect both evos and humans. We don’t intend to harm anyone. We’re still smoothening the process,” the others started butting in.
“We’ll bring your friend to you. Let’s just all calm down and talk.”
“You can be our advisor on matters relating to evos. We need some guidance.”
“You’re all liars!” Peter roared. It came out like the thunder, shattering glasses in the room. Some people shrieked. The empath can feel his radiation starting to spread. The table and chairs near him were starting to disintegrate. The most powerful people in the country were now all cowered at the farthest corner of the room, terrified of the Frankenstein’s monster they created. Peter took in a deep breath as visions started to roll in his mind again. The chaos of his powers generated a boiling whirlwind that revolved around him like gravity.
“Petrelli!” a familiar voice called out. A woman had come out from the huddle of people to stand as close to him as possible without getting burned. Peter recognized her instantly.
“Agent Hanson.”
“Good memory. Is it because I’m the first officer you met after discovering your power?”
Yes it was. Peter stared at her through white irises.
“I believed Matt Parkman when everyone thought he was the criminal for knowing things. And I didn’t pursue you after your brother bailed you out, because I believed you were innocent.”
“I was trying to save Claire.”
“And I believed you.”
Peter’s destructive radiation stopped spreading, but it did not dim.
“I’m here fighting for you guys,” Agent Hanson told lowly. There was no tingle. This conversation was private in between them. “I’m the one who helped Matt Parkman’s family escape.”
“I can let you go, but the rest of them stay.”
“Peter, this is not you.”
“This is me. I was the exploding man. I’m still the exploding man. But I’m done letting innocent people pay the price of me playing it safe.”
“You’re not a killer Peter,” Agent Hanson insisted with conviction. It echoed the sentiment of a former killer that saved the empath from the guilt of a murder, and Peter was momentarily drawn into the memory. “Even now, you’re willing to spare me. You’re still trying to save lives. You’re not a killer.”
“I have to do it. I have no choice. You don’t understand. Those politicians will not just hurt evos, they will destroy the world.”
“You’re not a killer, Peter.” A new deep voice joined them. Sylar and Hiro had teleported into the room between one blink and the next, standing right next to Agent Hanson.
“Hiro?”
“Peter Petrelli, do not worry. We have come to save you!”
The irony was not lost on the empath. They should save the rest of the White House from him instead. The room was heating up fast and the occupants were screaming at Agent Hanson to speed up the plea for mercy. Peter knew he had to get her and Hiro out before their organs started boiling.
“And the President, Peter. The rest of his pathetic gang too,” Sylar added with a tilt of the head that reminded him of Nathan. He remembered a time when the older brother chose to turn his back on their kind. Looking at the politicians in the present, he wondered if any of them were worthy of redemption like Nathan and Sylar.
“I can’t control it, Sylar.” Peter told regretfully, “I’m gonna explode anyway.”
“That’s okay,” the friend replied nonchalantly, stepping closer to him. His skins boiled and regenerate concurrently, death and life vying against each other. As if recalling a forgotten task, the watchmaker turned to look at Agent Hanson and Hiro.
“Yes, I’m Gabriel Gray, I’m the Sylar you hunted,” He told the FBI agent, whose brows lifted at the confirmation. She suspected it. She recognized him. “But Rebel also told me that you knew I’ve changed when he scrapped my info from your database. You’re caught up on everything. You’ve talked to Matt about me.”
Agent Hanson nodded reluctantly. That surprised Peter. He did not know that.
“Peter saved my life. Let me take care of him. You and Hiro get those people to safety. No matter what happens next, I’ll be with my friend.”
Peter watched vacantly as Hiro and Agent Hanson hastily gathered the politicians together. The weeping folks looked far from impressive and authoritative in their hysterical state. In fact, they appeared ineffably fragile. Peter could annihilate them with a snap of the finger.
And yet, how could he? They were just another Sylar, another Nathan Petrelli, another Adam Manroe. In the end, they were all just another human being, and Peter was not a god.
“Peter…” It was only him and Sylar now. He was the only one who could withstand the empath’s raging powers.
“Sylar, I’m sorry.”
Sylar closed the distance in between them and embraced him, as if he felt no pain. “Settle down, Peter.”
“I can’t…” The heat evaporated any tears left to cry, “I can’t control my powers. I can’t detach from futures I’m seeing where everyone dies. You have to kill me, Sylar. It’s the only way.”
Sylar’s palm pressed on his back, as if trying to hold him together by will alone. “Why don’t you look much further into the future, Peter?”
“What?”
“Close your eyes and see 1000 years into the future, Peter. Every future. What do you see?”
The empath frowned. But the way he felt unexplainably safe in Sylar’s arms made him obey and follow the instruction. Time sped up in his mind and he was a visitor to strange eras and universes as years go by. Some were better than the other - livable, survivable, blooming. But regardless of their endings…
“We’re always together, even 1000 years later. There’s not one future where we’re without each other.”
“So do you understand now?”
Peter looked up at the friend in awe. The visions were starting to fade, and along with it, the radiation. His sight returned to normal and it was just him and Sylar again, with no ghosts and expectations.
“I’ll never kill you,” Sylar told calmly. “Whatever happens now, I’ll be with you. A millennium later, I’ll stay by your side. When the planets start crashing down, we’ll watch it together. You’re my friend. You’re mine.”
Peter observed the certainty on the former nemesis’ face – the undeniable affection Sylar had for him. Their mental link had them bound together with the intimacy of a family tie, built on severe trials and adversity. The hatred, tears and bloodshed in their past formed an unbreakable foundation. How bizarre was their journey into each other’s life? Had it been written in the stars all along?
Peter felt a serenity settle over him at last. Everything else seemed small when there was a love so big in the present. The glowing embers of his wrath began to cool. Each ability settle down contently in its own place. The whirlwind of destruction circling him died down and the empath spread out freezing vapors to counter the heat in the room.
“Let’s stay on top of the mountains. Just you and me.” Sylar said softly to him.
Peter nodded meekly and teleported them away.
Snowflakes drifted down like cherry blossoms from the clear, blue sky outside their tent. There was a tranquil hush all around them save for the howling of winds. Even birds and animals were scarce up here.
It was funny that their first visitor was Noah Bennet, and of course Hiro, who brought him there. They were wrapped in layers of heat tech and thick wool jackets, wincing at the mountaintop climate.
Sylar and Peter had made their dwelling at the North Face of Mount Everest since disappearing from the White House one month ago. The temperature lied below 0 degree Celsius but they were the most powerful evos on earth, were they not? No one can come for them here. The authorities and their hound dogs will not survive an extradition for them.
“Noah…”
“Peter,” the man hugged him fondly and gave a grudging, grateful nod to Sylar, who was lounging comfortably at the corner of the tent like this was all he ever wanted out of life. Peter’s eyes, on the other hand, watered involuntarily. This isolation had given him peace and anxiety in equal measures. He was unsure whether his people would start despising him. After all, he had wreaked havoc back home and bailed.
“Peter Petrelli and brain man, we have good news! Your government is backing down. They’ve released evos prisoners and they’re going to trial people who do hate crimes on evos!” Hiro told excitedly, unaware of the empath’s internal turmoil.
Peter gaped at the teleporter and exchanged a confused look with Sylar, “What?”
Noah chuckled. “Charles Deveaux came to your mother in a trance a year ago and we knew your original power is coming back online soon. We didn’t know what to do except to have people map out the possibilities of each event, just like we did after Claire’s jump. The government is our main concern. But we didn’t see this right here as a possibility because we’re just thinking you’ll either leave them be or kill them all. We’ve never expected you to abort halfway. Turns out scaring them works better than anything else.”
“They released evos who were captured in secret? Renee?”
“He’s healing. He’s gone back to Haiti with his people. Mohinder is going to him next week to check on him.”
“Matt? His family?”
“He’s free. He’s given monetary compensation for the inconvenience. Though he’s not gonna stay in the US anymore.”
“He’s moving to Tokyo! Ando and I will take care of him, baby Matt and mother.” Hiro chimed in happily. Peter cannot help but smiled in response.
“And Rebel,” Sylar finally spoke. Peter knew how much the kid meant to him despite the former killer never wanting to meet him again to avoid humiliation. He was aware how mentally unsound he was back then.
“Rebel was released back to his cousins and aunt. Tracy is making sure that they won’t be disturbed.”
“Just like that?” Peter frowned, “It can’t be that easy. Are these traps?”
“They’re scared of you, Peter.” Noah took a seat on their carpeted floor in the little insulated hut they had built. “They realized that they can’t win against human evolution. Your mother, Claire, Tracy and a large group are protesting against the government’s mistreatment of evos. And with the distraction you brought, there’re members of Congress and senators rising up against the White House’s plan to provoke other countries into war.”
“Weaken the house,” Sylar intoned thoughtfully.
“Exactly. They’re divided and scared. We’re forming a Rebellion that’ll stay neutral if they’re playing nice, but if they act up, we need you and Sylar.”
Peter turned to his friend again. Sylar’s midnight eyes shone with mischief, unafraid and always prepared. “We’ll be there, Noah.”
“The FBI have become an ally too because some of their agents encountered evos before and knew your powers can help save lives.”
“Or take them…” Sylar murmured but was exasperatedly ignored by the company man.
“You’ll be the face of the Rebellion. Both of you.”
“Do we get royalty fees?” Sylar quipped and moved next to Peter. It was his way of monitoring his wellbeing, to make sure he was not overwhelmed. As powerful as Peter was, he felt fragile like never before. The watchmaker was helping to put him back together again piece by piece.
Feeling more hopeful with the positive reports, Peter squeezed Sylar’s hand and returned their guests’ soft smiles. “Thank you, Noah. Hiro. We’re honored. We’ll be your backup.”
That night, long after Noah and Hiro had left, the two friends laid down side by side, relishing each other’s company. They were taking this second self-inflicted seclusion much better than they thought they would. The gentle sound of fire crackling was luring the former paramedic to sleep. “It’s just you and me again.”
“It’s written, Peter.”
“Will I be okay?”
“I’ll make sure you are.” Sylar looked at him with eyes that conveyed much more than he was saying, and Peter reciprocated.
“Do we have to stay here forever?”
“We can go wherever we want, Peter. Even the stars.”
◇ The end ◇