When Mike woke up, Harvey wasn't there. Nothing new there, he usually left for a few hours every other day or so, to call Jessica or to just to stretch his legs. Gradually, Mike woke up enough to get up and shower – Harvey hadn't been lying when he'd told him he was starting to look like a hobo several days back. He hadn't realized how awful he was looking – his hair was a greasy mess and he desperately needed a shave, not to mention the dark circles around his eyes. He felt slow, sluggish, like he'd just gotten off a long flight and jet lag had set in. Locking the bathroom door, he pulled off his shirt, wincing at the ache in his ribs that still refused to fade. For the most part, his bruises had gone down, though his chest and abdomen were still sore to the touch. The laceration on his head would leave a scar, but like everything else, it'd fade as well. Apart from the memory of the night it happened, at least.

The hot water helped soothe his nerves at first, but revisiting the event sent a wave of nausea straight through him, forcing him brace himself against the wall. Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to take some deep breaths, but the humidity just meant the air crawled down his throat, sticking to his oesophagus and lungs. The more he tried to not think about it, the more insistent his mind was that he remember it, each moment plastered to the front of his mind like a movie playing on a screen.

At first he'd just thought he'd become another unlucky crime statistic, and to minimise damage had offered the two men what he had on him. Their faces were covered, not that they needed to be – Mike would have had a hard time identifying them in the darkness of the alleyway regardless. Though as it turned out, they weren't interested in his valuables – they were interested in him.

"Guys, look – I don't want trouble." That fell on deaf ears as he was backed further in, the lights of the traffic behind them creating a frightening silhouette of a crowbar gripped tight in the hand of the tallest man.

"We want our money"

"I have cash, you can have it-"

"We were told you'd have it ready – unless you've got some deep pockets in that fancy suit, I doubt you've got ten grand on you" Feeling sweat collecting in his palms and his heart picking up its pace, Mike tried an age old tactic, praying it would work for him.

"I've got it – just not here. You think I'm gonna carry that kind of money with me?" In a second he was being shoved to the ground, losing his footing over a trash bag and hitting the ground hard. While one kept an eye on the mouth of the alleyway, the other hoisted Mike to his feet and pinned him to the nearest wall.

"Just so we're clear, Mike" His name was pronounced with an extra tint of menace. "We're not fuckin' around here. You either give us the money we were promised, or I rip your head off"

"I already told you, I don't have it here-"

"Bullshit" It was around this point that Mike really started to get scared – there was a gun pointed at him, but he didn't see any of the other options Harvey was always preaching about. He had no idea what these guys were talking about, he didn't know what money they were expecting.

"It's not, you've just gotta let me get it – I can get it for you, it's in my office-"

"Do I look retarded? We know who you are, who you work for. You knew what was happening tonight. You don't have the cash on you, you don't have it. Period. We didn't come all the way here to get fucked around"

The following minutes were all too clear – he remembered a fist connecting with his jaw, then his eye, then the ground came up to cushion his fall for a second time, though after that it was just a series of painful impacts and crunches, a booted foot buried itself in his lower abdomen again and again, agonies erupting from different regions of his body all at once. In a feeble attempt to protect himself, he brought his hands up to cover his head and face, though that just meant in more broken bones and pained cries from the associate. This all seemed to go on for hours, though by the time they both let enough to let him try and crawl away, only seconds passed before he was being dragged back the few inches he managed, and with arms pinned behind him, he was forced to his feet. Blood coated his face and into his eyes, it was all he could taste and smell. He felt sick, and could barely focus on anything-

The taller of the men had taken a step forward, closing the distance between him and Mike and then was just more pain. He wouldn't have been able to tell you which had hurt more – the switchblade being pushed into his flesh, or his assailant withdrawing it seconds later. As agony ripped through his side in overwhelming waves, Mike was finally let go, his body crumpling to the floor in a broken pile. Crouching next to him, his attacker leant down, and gripped Mikes face in his hand, pulling his head up to look at him.

"Tell Trevor next time he feels like screwing us around, he'll be the one dead in an alley" With that, he straightened up, and delivered a final, violent kick to the groin, before motioning for his partner to follow him. Within seconds, they had disappeared into the crowds, anonymous as every other face as Mike lay beaten and bleeding.

Some time passed before he finally managed to get himself sat against the dumpster, pain roaring through his system, every part of him hurting so badly he could barely stand it. He wasn't sure if it was blood or tears rolling down his face, and he didn't know why Trevor had dragged him into his latest mess – he couldn't focus on anything now, vision only offering disjointed shapes and ears ringing with sirens and noises too loud and yet too distant. Biting his already split lip, he fought through the pain in his hand and arm as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone, but soon after that he lost consciousness, the ringtone set to Harvey's number accompanying his descent into blackness.

It was unfortunate that his memory wasn't screwed up enough to let him block out how he'd been put in hospital. Leaning over the sink, Mike tried to will himself to be sick in an attempt to rid himself of the nauseous feeling that kept sweeping over him, skin prickling with anxiety. After a minute or two he gave up, and had just finished dressing into clean clothes when he heard someone come into his room.

"Mike..?"

"Yeah, in here -hang on" Quickly drying his hands, he came out of the bathroom, though he didn't get far before stopping dead.

"Trevor…"