Brave New World

It was quiet back here amongst deserted stalls. With the constant neon swish of lights spinning around and around and around on their displays. Two figures slowly made their way through Central Park, taking their time, getting their breath back now that the danger was over for tonight. The air chilled the pair's faces as they ambled along, side by side, both overwhelmed with the pure vastness of freedom, as the future that had haunted them for so long had finally come to pass. Now that the security of a known "destiny" had eventually been lifted from their shoulders, the road from here on out was uncharted.

And that was both equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

Peter Petrelli took the time, now that he had some, to look at his surroundings. It had been so long since he'd had the dream, but in the relative five years since that night it had followed him still, a constant, looming presence of his and Sylar's uncompleted quest. So now, in the very place where it had all finally taken place, the truth of tonight's events was so much more than just hazy, dream-like visions: Sylar had saved Emma, the world was no longer in danger from a crazed terrakinetic, and Peter could finally let himself relax. At least, he should be able to relax.

A brief, ear-piercing bleep of a siren made both men wince, still unused to loud noises. A police car trundled past them on the way to the street and Peter watched the dark shadow of Samuel Sullivan's head through the back window. The man didn't see him, but Peter's gaze lingered on the vehicle until it disappeared from sight. Strange... he'd almost forgotten what cars looked like.

The smoky tang of fate still lingered in the air tonight, and even though the bad guy was now in custody and all the civilians were being safely taken care of, he couldn't help but feel that things weren't quite over yet.

"...the lights, the cello and everything – everything was exactly as you said it would be, Peter... and I knew right then that I didn't have to worry, because I would be the same too. I knew I was going to do the right thing..."

Sylar was reminiscing as he walked alongside Peter, chattering about his rescue and enthusiastically recounting every detail in how he'd stopped Doyle and rescued Emma. Peter flashed a small smile his way that Sylar gladly accepted, but really he couldn't focus his attention enough to properly listen. The full aftermath of Samuel's "show" was unfolding before them as they continued on their way: broken and discarded props from the carnival littered everywhere; flagpoles strewn across the grass; trails of bunting left abandoned to flutter helplessly in the wind; half eaten boxes of popcorn; people's scarves and hats cast haphazardly around. Everything was left where it had been dropped in the mass panic that had ensued here just recently. Peter ignored the shiver that ran down his spine.

It had been way too close.

Trying to shake off the clammy fingers of fear, he thought back to Emma, currently on her way home. She was safe. Because of Sylar. He'd really come through in the end, he'd really been a hero and saved the day. But if the day was already saved, why did Peter still feel so uneasy...? He swallowed, a subtle attempt to soothe his frayed nerves without alerting Sylar to the stubborn coil of panic that refused to diffuse within him. The former killer seemed none the wiser as he continued blabbering, oblivious, still riding high on the buzz of saving someone – and, in effect, the entire world. Peter knew the platinum joy of that unique feeling and didn't want to ruin it for his friend, so he just composed his features and nodded along, intending to keep his troubling thoughts a secret.

He was over-reacting anyway, right? The danger was over, the crisis averted, the embers of the night dying down to a peaceful slumber. This was the moment where Peter should have been celebrating with his friend! Congratulating him on doing so well, thanking him for his help and jointly basking in the afterglow of the successful endeavour (one that was five years in the making). Maybe it was the daunting freedom of stepping off the deliberate path that had directed his every action for what felt like forever, or maybe it was that suddenly the world just felt so... huge, alive, and Peter was very aware that he was just a tiny, insignificant ant in the swarm that covered the entire planet... but whatever the reason, he just couldn't relax. The hairs on the back of his neck wouldn't stop prickling.

He took a subconscious step closer to his companion, so that their arms brushed in the sway of walking, and felt relief tickle at the warmth and presence of Sylar's body. At the familiar.

The base of the Ferris wheel came into sight, along with a gaggle of reporters and cameras, all scrambling for an explanation to the night's events. Peter slowed, just a little, content to keep a distance between himself and dozens of loud, bustling people (journalists or not) now that the night's mission was over. There hadn't been time to dwell on the thousands of civilians around him while Samuel had needed to be stopped, but now... well, one step at a time. He wasn't needed anyway: in the distance the tall, squared figure of Noah Bennet stirred a fleeting moment of calm within the empath. Peter had assumed Noah left already, but clearly things were still in the process of being tied up.

He let out a breath that proceeded a great deal of his anxiety. So, it turned out, there really was no need to worry! Anyone who was familiar with that man knew that all things ability-related were bound to be smoothly covered up by clever words and years worth of impeccable training. No doubt by tomorrow news of a "gas leak" would be plastered over the headlines, Noah would work his magic to tidy away any incriminating evidence, and the world would continue as normal...

But then Peter noticed the small figure scaling the Ferris wheel. And his niggling worry slithered over and consumed him anew.

"...It's amazing, Peter." Sylar concluded at last, his gaze burning eagerly as if for approval.

"What is?" Peter snapped harshly, too busy trying to untangle the threads of the inevitable, impending future that was possibly running out ahead of him to give Sylar his full attention. Surely she wasn't going to...?! The swish of a blonde ponytail up high in the sky was unmistakeable... as was the reporters' excitement... as was Claire Bennet's intention.

"When I saved her." Sylar continued, oblivious. "I didn't have a thought for myself – I could have killed Doyle but I didn't! It felt...good. It felt right -"

"What the hell does she think she's doing?!" Peter blurted across Sylar, feeling his insides disintegrate as the foreseeable event finally made sense in his tired mind. No way... not after everything that had been done to stop this exact thing from happening...? Claire wouldn't be so dense, surely, to commit the very same act that had got her biological father shot?! Not after Peter had fought so hard...? "She's gonna change everything!"

Claire – her ability – the cameras! Peter felt the seconds slipping past like sand in an hourglass, too fine and fast for him to catch. There was no escaping what was about to happen. Breath catching in his chest, Peter had only taken half a step before it was all too late and the world as it had been was ripped apart at the seams by one teenage girl.

It all happened so quickly. It was all Peter could do to watch helplessly, heart hammering, as the future he had repeatedly tried to prevent unfolded right before his eyes. His niece stepped off the Ferris wheel before he could even think of a way to stop her, plummeted the full, deadly height of the structure to accompanying gasps of shock and horror that echoed through the crowd, and broke loudly upon impact.

The sickening thump of a body hitting the ground rang out like a judge's gavel sealing fate's decision. Peter flinched and stumbled back into Sylar's steadying arms at the noise, his hands coming up in front of him.

At first, nothing happened. Silence – thick, heavy, impenetrable – seeped over the park. It was as if the world had frozen while the Earth's crust cracked and split beneath Peter's feet. He could see it all so clearly, there was nothing he could do to prevent it, and this time he couldn't even teleport back to his own, safe, timeline for a second chance! He just gaped, unable to quite believe what his eyes had just witnessed, unable to believe that Claire could really have just done something so momentous, so selfish! A hot stickiness dripped down over his head and body as he stood, unblinking, as if to see the world literally transforming before his eyes into the hell from a future he'd once avoided. Or so he'd thought, anyway.

It was Sylar's hands tightening on his arms that jolted Peter back to reality. "We have to stop her!" He grunted furiously, wriggling free from his friend's hold in order to do something – anything – to stop what he knew was hurling straight for them like a tornado. He caught himself on dizzy legs and sprinted right at the reporters to... to... he didn't even know what! To fling himself over Claire before it happened? Before anyone saw? Before everything was ruined forever...?

But he was too far away. Another ripple of gasps rang out from the herd of witnesses and Peter's joints locked and froze him in place, helpless and heartbroken as he watched the fallen girl stir from across the other side of the park. He only caught a glimpse of his niece staring directly into a camera, dramatically popping her shoulder back into place, before he lost sight of her behind the violent swarm of greedy journalists. Before the world was changed forever.

Instantly, everything erupted into too much noise, too much change, too many people and too many colours as the carnival continued to twinkle and chime around the centre of the beginning of it all. Central Park broke out into a frenzy of stampeding feet – the congregated reporters descended at once to get the first big scoop, whereas most of the lingering victims fled before they were dragged into this new life without their knowledge, opinion or consent. The previously almost serene place was suddenly buzzing and hostile, too compressed, too claustrophobic, especially for the recovering men who were still daunted by a world that held more people than two.

"Peter -"

Sylar was once again at his side. "We have to do something – we can't just let this happen!" Peter looked around wildly through the scared and scampering bodies for his next, desperate plan of action.

"No, we have to leave." Sylar said softly, as if stating the obvious. Peter turned back to him with an accusing frown, shocked and offended by the man's calm demeanour. "This whole thing is about to be blown wide open and we can't be here when it happens." The pair were jostled by an escaping, forgotten carnival member, and Peter resisted the urge to grab onto Sylar and shake him to his senses.

"What're you talking about?! Didn't you see what just happened? If we leave now then it might be too late to fix it!"

"And how do you intend to "fix it"?" Sylar asked, throwing an arm out at the hysteria unravelling around them. This time there was a panicked edge to his tone that betrayed his earlier, composed exterior.

"Wh... I dunno. I dunno! ...H-Hiro!" Peter gasped, spinning on the spot and squinting his eyes for the Japanese teleporter who had been around here somewhere...

Of course! Hiro! Hiro would fix it, right? Or at least his power to time-travel would, so if the man himself wasn't willing to undo this travesty, then Peter could do it himself with his ability. All he'd need to do was stop Claire before she even went near that wheel! It was difficult to concentrate in the midst of the loud and busy mania, but Peter's heart skipped a beat as he caught sight of a small, dark haired man at the other side of the stage, his glasses reflecting dancing rainbow lights like Morse code.

"C'mon -" Peter reached behind for Sylar, ready to physically drag him across the grass if he had to, but then Hiro Nakamura screwed up his face and, in an instant, was gone. Shit! Thinking fast, Peter scanned the crowd for anyone, anything else that could help. But, without Hiro...

"We can't do anything here, Peter!" Sylar insisted, towering above Peter who felt like he was shrinking by the second. "If they find one of us – never mind both of us – do you really think that's going to make things better...?"

Peter swallowed roughly past his constricted throat, letting the truth in those words sink in, even though the thought of just running away when people might need him was perhaps even more sickening than staying behind to get caught. As one last, desperate attempt to find the easy answer, Peter cast wide eyes over the steadily emptying carnival once again.

By the looks of things, almost everyone outside the press party seemed to have scampered away. Everyone but –

"...Peter?" Noah Bennet's voice was distant but audible across the grass, as was the questioning threat in his tone.

Vice-like fingers clamped around Peter's wrist from behind, and only then did he remember that no one else here besides himself, Eric Doyle and Emma knew Sylar was working with the right side. Until now, Noah wouldn't even have been aware that Sylar was even here – let alone with Peter. He turned back to face the wanted killer, likely identifiable from miles away: tall, slim and dressed all in (still slightly dusty) black, eyes currently locked onto Peter's, large and wary, with that unmistakable face on clear display for all to see. He was a walking target, always had been, a magnet for trouble on the best of days... and already Peter resented the dangerous look growing on Noah's face.

At once, defensiveness for his friend overrode every other emotion bubbling away inside him. Peter put himself deliberately in front of Sylar and watched, trapped, as the seasoned agent strode over with a hand reaching conspicuously under his jacket and the reporters flocked over from a distance, targeting the last few stragglers with a revealing, neon hunger glinting in the unflattering eyes of their cameras. The world was closing in around the duo, and the park even more so, there was no escape and no easy do-over, disaster was descending from all directions and Sylar was right... there was nothing they could do here like this.

With one last look beyond the stampeding herd to an identifiable, blonde head, Peter's stomach knotted painfully and he allowed Sylar's strong grip to drag him away into the winding back paths of the carnival before any pursuer could catch them.

( )

Noah followed the two men until he was out of sight of the cameras. The truth of it was: he was getting too old and too unfit to keep up with thirty-somethings with great stamina and immortality on their side. His aim, however, was a skill that was exercised to perfection.

With one hand twitching on his concealed weapon, he watched as the two figures ran side-by-side in perfect stride, allowing the absurdness of the sight to fully roll through his mind. Peter Petrelli: probably the world's most loyal brother, suddenly best buddies with Sylar: Nathan's murderer, of all people...? Something didn't add up, but there were more important matters at hand tonight than the disconcerting allegiance between the two prospective most powerful people on the planet. It was just reflexes, really, that armed Noah's guard whenever Sylar came into sight. He knew even a perfectly-aimed bullet wouldn't kill the son of a bitch, but it would sure do wonders for relieving Noah's stress for one thing.

Taking recent history into account, that creature wouldn't even have sniffed at this place unless he wanted something for himself. And Noah doubted he'd turned up to a super-powered carnival for a fun night of popcorn and palm reading... He itched to aim at the taller figure's back as the unlikely duo disappeared into the empty depths of the carnival, but knew it would be pointless to take a useless shot. Releasing his gun to the sounds of reporters approaching behind him, his intelligent brain mulled over the unnerving appearance of the serial-killer here tonight, and what his inclusion with the carnival might really mean.

Noah pushed his way past the many cameras and microphones that were thrust into his face, refusing to comment and craning over the heads of the crowd to lock eyes with the defiant girl who he'd sacrificed everything for a hundred times over, only for her to have broken his heart here tonight.

( )

Peter and Sylar wound through the twisting maze of abandoned trailers and stalls until only their pounding footsteps, heavy breathing and racing heartbeats rent the night. The ruckus surrounding Claire dulled in volume with enough distance between them and the Ferris wheel, however the rotating lights still loomed high above against the night sky. Only when certain they were safely out of range, Sylar jogged to a stop and offered his hand to the upset, panting Petrelli.

His meaning was understood without even a single word being uttered between them, and Sylar basked in the wonderful, long-missed and still fresh sensation of an ability at work as Peter drew flight from his fingertips. They waited in silence as Peter caught his breath (Sylar's stitch having been erased by regeneration – oh how he had missed it!), while both men allowed the full ramifications of Claire Bennet's moronic actions to hit them.

While Sylar had to agree with his companion's unease over the entire subject (even if maybe not to the same extent), he wouldn't admit so aloud only to advance Peter's fears. One of the many results of being trapped in an otherwise empty dream world: getting to know the sole other inhabitant was inevitable. Sylar recalled the times Peter had recounted his ventures in the future, and he knew precisely how sensitive the little man was about that particular topic and timeline, and how badly the memories and possibilities scared him to this day. He could only imagine the pain and horror twisting Peter up inside right now: having a fear come true, the literal foresight to expect the worst of it, and enduring the guilt and agony of believing to have failed the world in his duty. Clearly Peter currently needed an anchor to keep him strong, and so tonight Sylar would be that which Peter had repeatedly been for him in the past.

Here in the dark and quiet, with only each other for company, Sylar almost forgot for a second where they were. Which world they were in. It probably should have worried him that he preferred hiding out here in the back with the dumpsters and broken props to mixing with other people out by the stage, but he didn't dwell on it. He was too intent on Peter who, only now, Sylar realised, seemed to be taking too long to settle from the run over.

He was still bent over, hands on his knees and struggling for shaking breaths. "It's going to be okay, Peter." Sylar assured him, and rubbed a hand gently, encouragingly, on his back. For a brief second the thought flashed by him... maybe affectionate touches such as this weren't appropriate anymore? But then it faded as quickly as it had arisen. Peter was his friend, right now he needed to be comforted, and Sylar saw no reason why they should behave any differently than in their last years together as soon as other people inhabited their world. Or, well, they inhabited other people's world.

Chest still heaving, Peter peeked up through his hair and surveyed Sylar with wide, fearful eyes and his broken, distressed lip. "How... d-d'you know that?" He gasped. Sylar worried that the guy was either having or about to succumb to a panic attack, however he hid his nerves and smiled reassuringly at his only friend, still drawing soothing circles with his fingers on the rough fabric of Peter's jacket.

"We're superheroes." He stated simply, revelling in the inclusive truth of 'we'. "We'll think of something."

For a moment he was sure Peter was about to laugh, but no such sound broke the tension. Instead he straightened up and shook some feeling back into his legs, all cool and composed and ready for business. At least, that was the impression he tried to give off, but Sylar saw right through it. "We need to lay low for the night – it's only gonna get worse." Peter turned back to stare up at the distant Ferris wheel with worry still etched firmly into his fine features. The guy still appeared to be resisting the temptation to either scream or cry, and all Sylar knew right then was that he was determined to prevent either outcome.

"You can stay at my apartment, we can watch it from there." He suggested. Then, despite himself and the the morbid events of the night, found a genuine smile form on his face. "I seem to recall that you don't have a TV."

( )

The thought hadn't even occurred to Peter that he might have to go home alone tonight. He'd almost forgotten that he didn't live across the hall from Sylar here, but miles away across the city. The thought alone of venturing out into the crazy nightlife of New York just after abilities had been revealed to the world (not to mention on his first night back here!) was a little too much to handle.

So he nodded and readied himself to get moving, immensely grateful for Sylar's offer but unable to quite express that in words.

( )

The reformed murderer waited patiently until the paramedic fretted himself into the decision to leave for sure, nodded again, and squared himself for take-off. "Alright. Let's go." He almost whispered this time, his voice gravelly and lips tight.

Just before they lifted up into the night sky, Sylar felt the quiet, light pressure of fingertips against his shoulder. He didn't acknowledge them, but he knew perfectly well what they meant: gratitude, affection and comfort – both given and received. A hidden smile curved his lips and he basked in the knowledge that despite the brave new world stretching out ahead... he was to face it with Peter Petrelli by his side.

Together they rose high above the carnival, the majestic display of lights twinkling innocently like stars strewn out beneath them while expertly disguising the cataclysmic event that was unfurling in its midst.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

I recently (as in, after planning this fic) read the official e-book continuation of Heroes set before the events of Heroes Reborn, and while it made for an interesting read, I'm not going to follow it's confines for this story. (Peter and Sylar deserved so much more than they got in the e-book in my opinion :P) So while this fic intends to fill in the gaps between Heroes season 4 and Heroes Reborn, if you've read the book consider it an alternate universe running parallel with "Save the Cheerleader, Destroy the World".

If you haven't read that book, then you can safely ignore this author's note X)