Mike feels better after a few days of rest at home. His body isn't one throbbing mess anymore, and both Bo and Axel sound better when he talks to them on the phone. "Think things will be alright by Monday?" AJ asks with a small smile on her lips as she rests her head on Mike's shoulder.
"Yeah, I think so," he says, eyes shut as he plays with her hair. "I mean, I don't think Angle will be doing anything against me in response to anything I've done to his son this week. That's good."
She nods. Kisses his chest. "It is." She toys around with his shirt for a moment before sitting up to look at him, a curious expression on her face. "So, um, as we stand right now, you don't have a match on Summerslam. Considering everything, does that bug you?"
He mulls it over for a moment. "In a way, yes. In a way, no. I've gone back and forth so many times between being champion and not being champion that it's kind of nice to just be able to sit back and enjoy holding the belt through a PPV. Although it wouldn't surprise me if Angle changes his mind and grants his lovely little son a title opportunity after all." He makes a face. Kisses her forehead. "But either way. I'm not losing just because of nepotism."
"That's what I like to hear," she chuckles, leaning up to kiss him. "Sara and I'll be watching from home if something like that happens. She can actually cheer her daddy on now."
"It's so crazy," he mumbles, wrapping an arm around her. "She's getting so big... I'm missing so much."
AJ nods. "True. But she loves her daddy either way."
He smiles. "Well, I love her too. And you." AJ beams up at him, leaning in to kiss him before they settle in for a quiet night at home before he has to fly out in the morning for Raw.
-x
Raw is bustling. Mike sits on the fringe of it and watches- he has no match on Sunday, so he gets to witness it all take shape around him. He rolls his eyes at Ambrose and Rollins arguing, brawling, then ultimately holding their fists together in unity. Blinks and grips his belt a little tighter when Neville loses his title to Tozawa, and ultimately lets the rest wash over him. Maryse, Heath, Rhyno, Bo and Axel are all as detached as he is except for the brief period of time when Mike decides to go talk to Angle and gets a match against Jason Jordan later that night instead of Axel. Their discussion gets derailed, of course, because Mike can never be taken seriously or given the respect he deserves, but whatever.
By the time the match comes, Mike is prepared. Ready. In his gear and up for a fight. But he's not alone, so of course Bo and Axel jump in to help when needed, the match coming to an end until the Hardyz run down for the save, Angle intercedes to make another stupid announcement and the match quickly turns into a six man. Which they lose, to Mike's disgust because nothing can just go right for him anymore. He sits in his locker room, surrounded by all of these people and none of them can help him win. Help him retain his title. He gnaws at his lips, remembers the look on Neville's face after losing and considers how it would feel to lose again. Have to hand his title over to Jordan, when Jordan has done nothing to deserve a title opportunity but may receive it anyway for the mere fact that his new father is Kurt Angle and they're desperate to "make up for lost time".
He scoffs, then laughs bitterly, ignoring the sudden silence surrounding him as everyone stops what they're doing and looks over at him. "He won't win this belt from me," he says to the room in general. "I won't let him. We can't let him."
"Of course not, Mike," Maryse says soothingly. "We'll do our best to make sure you keep that belt right where it belongs." She sits next to him, rubs his shoulder. Her hand feels cold, the touch impersonal.
He wishes, not for the first time, that AJ was with him, that it was Morrison and Ricardo staring at him instead of Bo and Axel. He exhales, closes his eyes, tries to calm down. "Thanks," he finally says quietly. She smiles at him, not seeing past the surface of his words.
He looks up and locks eyes with Heath. Heath knows though, can see it. Something's off, has been for awhile now and Mike still can't quite put his finger on it. "I need some air," he finally says, slipping calmly out from under her hand and walking quietly to the door. "I'll be ok. Just... give me a few minutes, yeah?"
"Whatever you need, Mike," Bo and Axel chorus and Mike nods, clipped, heading outside.
The air is cool. The breeze is gentle. He licks his lips and eyes the moon, wonders if Sara and AJ are seeing the same thing. He sits down on a bench and cups his face in his hands. "She's walking now," he mumbles to himself, picturing his daughter toddling around, babbling to herself. "Speaking. Soon she's gonna be learning to read and write, and then going to school and I'm... I'm missing all of it." His troubled gaze heads back to the arena. "For what... To lose to some punk just because of who his daddy is, and run myself ragged doing all of the media under the sun for this company..."
It's a bitter thought. One he's not sure what to do with. "I'm sorry, Sara Lou," he mumbles, realizing he's turning into a distant father, much like his own was.