Mike paces, tugging lightly at his hair. He breathes deeply while AJ watches him, a frown on her lips.
"I don't like this," she says after a moment. "Mike..."
"I don't like it either," he tells her. "But I can't let last week stand either. Truth got injured trying to save me and I have... I have to do something. You know?"
She sighs and untucks herself from the couch, standing and walking over to him, trailing her hands gently over his shoulders before lacing her fingers at the back of his neck, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss him. "I do know. I just don't want you to get hurt," she mumbles, kissing him. "I know you need to do it. Just try to be careful. For my sake? And the kids? Please?"
"I will do my best," he says, pressing kisses against her forehead, down her jaw. "I know you'll probably watch no matter what I say, but don't let the kids watch, alright? Make sure they're in bed."
She nods. "I'll make sure they'll be ok." She traces her fingers over his lips and kisses him again. "Come on, let's go to bed ourselves," she murmurs against his lips, lacing their fingers together and leading him out of the living room.
His flight to Raw is early in the morning, but he obliges her, needing the intimacy of being with her for a little while longer to sustain him through whatever may come.
-x
Weapon matches aren't his specialty. But Mike tries. Damn, he tries so hard. With chairs, and kendo sticks, and anything else he can get his hands on. He actually has brief moments of hope, when he thinks he might have a chance, but then Bronson gets ahold of him and puts him through a table set up in the corner, the damn thing collapsing upon him and dazing him even further, the pain too overwhelming.
Bronson immediately follows it up with a tsunami and Mike gasps, choking as his chest burns, agony twisting through his sternum up into his stomach. He's barely with it, blinking up towards the lights, when Bronson moves for the ropes again. He can't stop it, he can only lay there and wait. If this is what Truth and Seth experienced the last few weeks, well... shit. He's not sure he'll survive it. He's already close to passing out just from one, anymore, and...
Bronson's forward motion stops suddenly and Mike feels the referee's hands on him, rolling him to safety. He gasps as he hits the floor, the referee too desperate to get him to safety to consider that. "Sorry, sorry," he says, kneeling next to Mike's prone body.
Mike closes his eyes and exhales, feeling bruised, sore, but still breathing. Better off than Seth or Truth, at least. He groans softly and tilts his head to look over at the referee. "Is that... is that Braun Strowman's music?" he mumbles.
"Yes," the referee says. "Come on, let's get you out of here."
Trudging back up the ramp to the back, to safety, hurts, but it's a relief. He's been spared. For now.