Takes place after Miles' Leap of Faith.
-
The last street lamp turned - now just a profusion of erratic nonsense - plunging them into darkness. Miles' eyes adjusted with the moonlight.
Peter is the only one left, slumped against the wall. He presses the little piece of plastic into Miles' hand, insistent.
Miles can't stop shaking. Can't stop hearing the screaming and crying that had reverberated throughout the alley. If he can't do that, what can he do?
"What's the point anymore?" Miles whispers hoarsely. The mask tastes of salt and he tugs it off in a rush.
Peter doesn't say a thing. His fingers curl slightly around Miles' and gently squeeze, ever reassuring.
And then-
"You're gonna be the best of us."
