Looking back, they'd been fucking naïve. They'd barely been outside more than ten minutes before feet were pounding against pavement in a bid to get away from the infected. Having bags only served to weigh them down, but they couldn't ditch them like they had the last. It wasn't long before the weapons they'd chosen for themselves came into use – as they were running Mike had made the mistake of looking back, and in that split second had caught his foot on something, sending him sprawling across the sidewalk with a yell.

The next minutes felt like they happened in a blur; Mike was stumbling to his feet just as fast as he'd fallen, trying to pick up his bat from where it'd come out of his hand. Harvey had back tracked and had grabbed the collar of Mike's shirt, trying to drag him up and keep him going. But by now any distance they'd put between the infected and themselves was null and void; within moments Mike was yanked backwards into the group and out of Harvey's grasp, his bag being grabbed at by desperate, sickly hands. Even if he'd managed if get himself out of the straps in time, there still wouldn't have been room to get himself away. In the seconds he couldn't spare he guessed there were at least a half dozen surrounding him, fingers tearing at his shirt and grabbing at his limbs. If he'd been alone, this would have been it.

Game over.

But then Harvey was beating them back, gripping Mike's wrist painfully hard as they set off again, though this time it wasn't for long – Harvey took them both through another set of doors, weaving between tables and another doorway before he finally let Mike go, at which point his legs practically turned to gelatine. There wasn't anything for him to hear at first – it was just blood pumping in his ears like war drums and ringing, white noise almost, the tight feeling in his chest refusing to let up. He felt cold, his stomach was in knots and when he lifted his hands he couldn't stop them shaking to rest his head in his palms.

Then Harvey was there in front of him, kneeling down and taking his hands away from his face and saying something that Mike couldn't pick up straight away. He felt his face being tilted up, Harvey's hands on either side of his head repeating what sounded like his name over and over. Gradually he began to calm down, though having Harvey pull their heads together and rub his fingertips therapeutically into his hair helped considerably. He found that he'd been grasping at Harvey's sleeves as if he was ensuring he'd still be there when he opened his eyes again, though he would have been hard pressed to really see anything through the sting of hot tears that were dripping to the floor. When was the last time he cried…when his grandmother had passed away?

Slowly but surely, his breathing regulated enough for him to speak properly, though his eyes remained clamped shut for the time being.

"Are you okay…"

"Don't even think about worrying about me right now. That's an order – come on, give me your arm"

"No, I have to know"

"Mike, I'm fine." Finally accepting his answer, Mike gingerly rested his head back against the surface behind him as Harvey got up to do something. He was finding a first aid kit – something easily found in a restaurant kitchen. Turning Mike's arm over, he first examined the scratches that ran the full length of his forearm – when he'd first seen them he'd felt like throwing up, like his lungs had filled with cement. Because in every zombie story, a scratch means you turn. You die and become undead and the left behind loved one is forced to die alongside them or save themselves. There was also a large graze splayed across his right arm where he'd fallen and slid across rough concrete, the skin raised and red and sore.

"…I always thought I'd last longer"

"What?"

"People make plans for this kinda thing…'what's your plan for the zombie apocalypse'…I always figured you'd be involved somehow, but…it hasn't even been two months and I'm already screwed"

"No, you're not" When Harvey glanced up, Mike's eyes were open, looking anywhere that wasn't at his arm as he tried to stop himself from crying any more.

"You're not." Harvey repeated, keeping his cool as best he could as he began to clean the wounds with antiseptic. Mike immediately tried pulling his arm away, the usual hiss of pain coming out as more of a whimper as Harvey brought it back gently.

"They said it was spread through blood and saliva – Mike, listen – these aren't deep, they didn't say anything about getting scratched. You're going to be fine"

"What if-"

"No, no 'what if's'. You're going to be alright. Look at me." A request Harvey almost wished he hadn't made when he fully took in his partners expression.

"Do you trust me?" Mike just replied with a feeble nod. Clasping his hand, Harvey made him look at him again as he continued.

"I screwed up…I let you get hurt. But you're gonna be fine, I promise. They barely broke the skin; the risk of you catching it is minimal at most."

"There's still a chance" Instead of answering him, Harvey just continued cleaning up his injuries, dressing both arms carefully. Just as he finished, a quiet, hoarse voice broke the silence.

"I'm sorry"

"What..?"

"…I'm sorry – for tripping, for…this, I'm sorry" He repeated, motioning vaguely to his arm as a small sob escaped his throat. Stopping himself from getting upset suddenly became one hundred times harder – he'd seen him angry, confused, frustrated, and laughing until air became optional. But in all the time Mike had worked for him, Harvey had never seen him cry. Not like this. When he tried to reach out to him Mike pushed his hands away roughly.

"No, just -This wasn't how this was supposed to happen, this wasn't how any of this was meant to – this doesn't happen in real life, this is such bullshit. Fucking…'zombie viruses' don't exist, we don't let them, we stop them before the entire world goes to hell! But now look, look at everything…" He'd started shouting early on, but as his sentence trailed his tone fell into a angry, scared whisper. Pushing his hands through his hair, he kept his head down, half hidden behind his arms as he brought them up to rest on his knees.

"…This is on me, what happens now…I've been a pain in the ass for you for so long now, I kinda forgot how fucking shitty it can make me feel when I screw things up for you…This is the worst, so far…I've screwed up cases in the past, but this…" Harvey could only shift round to Mike's side, and pull him into his arms, just holding him for a while. He wasn't sobbing his heart out, but he was still crying, evident through the tremors that shook him every few seconds. When Harvey felt like he could speak without losing it, he did so gently, is tone heavy with sincerity.

"I knew you'd be a pain in the ass when I hired you. But you're so much more than the mistakes you've made. And this one isn't on you. It's on me. I said I'd protect you and I haven't. You've always been my responsibility and I've let you down…don't apologize to me, Mike. For anything. Especially not this."

"You're so full of it…"

"So I've been told" Relief forced a smile across his face when he heard Mike laugh a little. His grip around him tightening just a little, Harvey rested his face on Mike's head, taking in the smell of his hair and how he seemed to fit perfectly into the crook of his body.

"You're going to be okay, Mike. I'll make sure of it."