Peter’s eyes fluttered open to a blur of white and muted sunlight slicing through the blinds. His body ached in ways he hadn’t thought possible—every limb a reminder of the ordeal he’d survived, every breath heavy with exhaustion. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and something sweet he couldn’t place, a scent that made his head spin when he tried to focus. He blinked, trying to remember how long he’d been here, and the memories of the Walk came crashing back in fragments—Ray’s laugh, the way they’d joked to keep the despair at bay, the quiet moments that had felt like lifelines. And now… he realized with a pang that Ray wasn’t here. That brother he’d found in the chaos, the closest thing to family he’d ever known, wasn’t coming back.

A soft rustle at the door drew his attention. His heart skipped a beat, a flicker of life in the fog of his delirium. There they were—the one face that made the world feel a little less cruel, a little more bearable. Peter tried to lift his hand, to speak, but his throat was raw, words failing him. All he could manage was a crooked, weary smile, the kind that carried both relief and sorrow. “You… came,” he rasped, voice hoarse but filled with quiet gratitude. Every inch of him ached, but seeing them there made it just a little easier to breathe.