After all the fights ended, everyone from the gym went out to celebrate at a nearby bar on the North Shore. Without any discussion, Mike and Spencer tagged along. The group surrounded Jimmy, reliving highlights of his fight, an experience enhanced with lots of pantomiming and sound effects. Mike summoned a smile every time Jimmy looked his way, which happened frequently. The thumbs up gesture made repeat appearances as well.

As the first round arrived, ordered by who he did not know, Spencer intercepted the shot glasses intended for them and pushed them towards others in the group. "Sorry, everyone, Ski and I aren't drinking tonight."

Silence fell over their corner of the bar. Crazy Cody broke it. "You've got to be joking. Mike's not drinking?"

"Yeah," Spencer said. "I'm his AA sponsor. It would be great if everyone helped Mike with his sobriety."

Crazy Cody took both shot glasses and threw them back. "Guess I'll pick up your slack, Mikey." The rest of them went back to hounding Jimmy like the celebrity he was that night.

Mike leaned close to Spencer. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Keeping you sober."

"Why would you ever think I'd welcome your 'help'?"

Spencer crossed her arms. "I heard that when everyone got back from deployment they found you living out of your car, having given away or drank away every bit of money to your name."

"Who the hell was still talking to you after we got back? Everyone from my unit hated you, Spencer."

"I was actually more popular than you. They might have been more political with you since you were one of them while I was only attached to the company during the deployment. But I wasn't the one who sucker punched a marine and made our lives hell."

Mike clenched his fist and drove his knuckles into his thigh. "So what, you're a better person than me? Is that why you are playing nanny to me now?"

"Have you ever for one second thought how I feel about this whole mess? I like to think I'm a good person, Ski. I did something stupid and it blew up in a big way. It's not possible to go back and undo my mistake, but I can try to atone for it. Right now, that means keeping drinks out of your hands." Spencer checked that no one was listening in on them before continuing. "Ski, you might not have been the best looking guy on base, but you were sculpted. More so than Jimmy is now. Your arms and abs could have been on the cover of a magazine. Now . . . the nicest way to describe you is 'husky'. And your life is a wreck. If I had just an ounce more self-control, none of this would have happened. Yes, yes, you're just as much to blame as me, but . . . I still own some of the blame. I can't have this hanging over me for the rest of my life."

"I'm not some charity case," Mike growled. "I'm poor because the government came after me for a gift tax when I gave Susie's life insurance to her parents. In a few more years the debt will be paid off and things will be better. The drinking is just from stress. Money stress. Marius stress. Jimmy stress."

"Jimmy stress?" Spencer stared at him like he was insane. "Were you really so worried about the outcome of his fight?"

Mike scowled. "No. Just forget about the Jimmy thing. My point is that I have a lot going on right now."

"Maybe instead of drinking, you should talk to a professional, figure out a productive way of handling all this stress."

"Great idea. I'll pop in to see a shrink and tell him how much stress I'm under from being taught to use my superpowers. That will go over well."

Spencer rolled her eyes. "How does Varanelli put up with you?"

"I'd tell you to ask her some time, but she would probably claw your eyes out if you spoke to her." Mike stopped himself from saying anything further as Jimmy came to stand between the two of them.

"Guys, thanks again for coming out to support me. This was the most important fight of my life and it means a lot that you were here for it."

"Most important so far," Mike said. "You're going to get to fight on a big stage some day."

"No doubt," Jimmy said. "And some day I'll climb the corporate ladder, too. You've always been a positive in my life, Mike, and there is no way I can ever repay you for giving me the chance to chase my dreams."

Mike patted his friend on the back. "Just remember that next time I'm desperate for warm bodies at a party."

Jimmy laughed, then turned to Spencer. "Hey, Erica. Sorry I haven't been in contact. I had tunnel vision during my training camp for this fight."

She nodded. "It's fine, Jimmy. Though it would have been nice to get an invitation to the big event."

"You made it here, that's what matters. Now . . . I need to get out of here before Crazy Cody drags me to a strip club or Wayne orders me more tequila. Could I get a ride?" The tilt of Jimmy's chin made it clear he hoped for more than just a car ride.

Spencer nodded towards Mike. "Sure. This guy has to leave at the same time, though."

"There a grain of truth in that AA gimmick?"

Spencer pinched her fingers together in the 'little bit' sign. Not saying much, Mike waited by the door as Jimmy made his final round of the group, ignoring Spencer. As they made their way down the street, Mike glanced towards his friends. They seemed intent on taking the same route as him back to the parking garage -- or rather, Spencer seemed intent on following him to make sure he didn't misbehave. Sudden inspiration struck him.

Mike turned a corner and strode down an alley between two buildings to get out of sight of the light street traffic. As the other two stared at him, Mike extended his corona and launched himself into the sky. The last he heard of them was an exclamation from Jimmy. "Shit, he's strong enough to fly already?"

Knowing he had only a minute or so before exhaustion, Mike soared over the rooftops away from the parking garage, towards more bar dense areas. The chill night wind whipped at him, flapping his clothes and forcing his eyes to squint. With his head excluded from his push, he could feel the rush of his acceleration as he dove lower to weave between buildings. The flow of animas began to lag and Mike drew lower to the ground in caution. Then, in an attempt to replicate what he had done earlier that day, Mike sloshed around the precursor inside him until power raged through him once more at full power.

He took to the sky once more after that, shooting straight up to pierce the veil of a low cloud. He kept going, rising until the chill became brisk enough that he had to use his corona to heat himself and the air began to feel thin. There, hovering higher than he had ever been, Mike looked down on a city obscured by clouds, little pinpricks of light twinkling through mist. Though he found himself having to gasp at the air faster to compensate for the decreased density, Mike felt like he could breathe better than he had on the ground. Everything that had been weighing him down had been left behind.

Even the urge to drink had gone. He didn't doubt it would return, but for the moment all that mattered was the fact that he owned the sky.