The week starts off slow. Mike is still hobbled, walking around on his crutches, pondering his knee, the various media calls he's still scheduled for, how determined Sara is to play with him- which is made very difficult considering he can't put weight on his leg at all. He's poking listlessly at the chicken and vegetable bowl AJ had bought him for supper when his phone goes off. He closes his eyes, wondering which of their friends it is this time- he loves them, but man, he just wants to wallow right now, maybe even take a nap to pass the time.

Then he realizes the name on the screen reads WWE Doctor and he grabs for it immediately, fumbling a few times before he finally accepts the call. Breathes a sigh of relief when the call hadn't been ended, or gone to voicemail. "Hello?" His voice shakes. He hopes the doctor didn't notice.

"Hello," the familiar voice greets him. "Mike Mizanin?"

"Yes," he says impatiently. "This is him. What's up, doc?" It'd be funny any other time, but now it's just born of exhaustion and desperation.

"I'm calling with the scans from your knee injury. I discussed it with your primary doctor and we agree. It's a partial tear, so we're recommending you wear a knee brace, and remain not putting weight on it. Ice it, and we'll discuss further in the future treatment options. We'll want to x-ray it again in a few weeks, see how you're progressing."

Mike exhales, a sudden warmth spreading throughout his chest. He almost wants to cry. "Great," he mumbles, picking at his sweat pants with his free hand. "Um, can I..." He exhales gustily. "Can I return to Raw? Not to wrestle," he hastens to add when the man responds to this with silence. "But to host my talk show segment with Morrison, or- I mean, there are all of these media things I was scheduled for. You know?"

The doctor exhales. "Yes, I suppose that would be fine. But take it easy, don't try to be a hero. Nothing physical, and you will remain on crutches and follow my instructions when I see you."

Mike breathes in and out for a minute, for sure feeling tears well up in his eyes now. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Absolutely, I'll- I'll be a model patient, you'll see." He hangs up and just sits there, wishing he could jump up and yell. But nope, his words to the doctor echo back to him, so he remains where he is. Instead, he thrusts his fist up in the air and lets out a choked, "YES!"

When AJ peaks in on him a minute later, startled, he laughs through his tears and holds his arms out to her. She rushes over, brushing at his cheeks, distressed. "Mike? What's wrong? Are you-?" After he finishes telling her through bursts of laughter followed by short waves of tears, she swats at him. "Goof, you scared me." But she's smiling too, tears welling in her own eyes as she hugs him. "I'm so happy for you." She pulls back and cradles his face. "Should I come with you? Make sure the first flight goes ok?"

"I'd love that," he murmurs, moving to kiss her fingers, her palms, every inch of her hand that he can reach. "But no. John and I got this. It'll be fine." He stares at her, relief and hope shining in his eyes, and she leans forward to kiss him, warm and deep. "I love you," he breathes against her.

She smiles, wipes her eyes, then his. "I love you too, Mike."

-x

"So you're good to go?" John asks once they're settled.

It had been a long journey through the airport, even with one of those golf carts transporting Mike everywhere possible, but man, he'd made it. He's sitting in his own seat on the plane, he has a drink in hand- non-alcoholic, unfortunately, due to the pain meds required just to get this far without screaming at the jostling and lengthy excursion on the crutches it took just to get here. "Yeah," he breathes out. "i'm good. Thanks, John."

There will be more for his best friend to do later, but for now, they're content just to sit, marvel that, after worry he'd be out for the better part of a year, he's here, now, back by John's side, heading to work like that whole mess with the zombies and Priest hadn't happened. He tilts his head and smiles at John. "Hey, man, really thanks. For everything. I know it's a pain when I'm hurt and slowing everything down, but-"

"Hey, don't talk like that about my best friend," John chides playfully. "But seriously, man, you've had my back throughout all of my injuries the past few months. Of course I've got your back."

Mike stares at him, smiling slightly. "Yeah, alright, still. Thanks."

John's laid back patience holds steady the rest of the day- when Mike is doing media with Titus O'Neil and insists on taking a couple steps without his crutches for the camera, when they're back at the arena and everything in between. Constantly running around, getting water and food and whatever else Mike might need so he doesn't have to walk around too much. Then they're about to head out to the ring for MizTV with Rhea and Charlotte, and John disappears for a couple of minutes, and when he returns-

Mike looks up, hanging off of his crutches, and then bursts out laughing. "Uh, John-" he says slowly, examining him. The mess of denim he chose to wear today is suddenly punctuated by a chain of garlic around hi neck. "You know garlic does nothing against zombies, right? That's for vampires-"

"Hey, man, you never know, they might hate garlic too," John says with a grin. "Either way, I'm gonna protect us out there, no matter what supernatural baddy tries to get us next. You'll see." He hooks a thumb at himself. "You just hang out, do your hosting thing, and I'll handle all the rest. It'll all be juuuuust fine."

Mike smiles, overwhelmed by a flood of affection for this ridiculous man who's had his back through all of the highs and the lows of the last thirteen years. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I know it will be."