It started with Mike wanting some fresh air. It was late, around 10:30, but not late enough that Harvey was very worried about safety. There were still plenty of people out and about, and the kid was going absolutely stir-crazy. They had been inside all day everyday for an entire week. Mike had been so wrapped up in working that it was sometimes easy to forget about how jumpy he could get. And how sometimes the universe likes to lull people into a false sense of security. They had only gone a little ways from the office when Harvey saw the knife in the man's hand that was up against Mike's back. His eyes were huge and scared, and Harvey went into protective mode. Mike still didn't like to be touched all that much by people other than Harvey and Donna and his grandmother. Much less a random mugger off the street.

Harvey allowed himself to be led into the back alley with Mike without making a scene, but he was tense as the knife-wielder rounded on them. Mike stared at the knife in the mugger's hand. The man was dirty and most likely homeless, or at least addicted to meth. But to Mike, he looked a lot scarier now than he would have several months ago.

"Just give your wallets," He said, eyes shifting from side to side. Mike was frozen to the spot, scared. Harvey, however, was less than impressed at their nighttime mugger.

"No," Harvey said, fixing the collar of his suit, relaxed as ever. Only Mike noticed how he subtly placed himself in front his younger companion.

"I have a knife." The mugger looked confused, as if a knife was end-all-be-all of weapons.

"Yes, and I'm wearing a tie worth more than all of your possessions combined. I will not be giving you my wallet and if you come any closer I will knock your front teeth out." Harvey nonchalantly handed Mike his suit jacket. "Here, hold this. I don't want to get blood on it."

Mike shook himself out of his trance and took the jacket with shaking hands, eyes wide. Harvey wrapped an arm around Mike's shoulders and tugged him back toward the street and away from the bewildered man holding a knife and very little dignity. Suddenly, a hand darted out and grabbed Mike's arm hard enough to bruise.

"I said give me your-" The last words were cut off by a fist smashing into his mouth. Harvey retracted his arm and again wrapped it around a shaking Mike and led him back to the street. Mike was scared and barely able to stand so Harvey hailed a cab. Harvey bundled his associate inside, texting Donna to please bring their things from the office back to the apartment.

The taxi driver looked at Harvey's blood-smeared knuckles when he handed him a twenty to drive faster, and shrugged. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. And the young one looked like he had just seen a ghost.

Harvey handed the fare with a generous tip to the driver as thanks for his only somewhat illegal driving when they arrived in record time. Mike was still quiet, but he wasn't shaking anymore. Harvey took that as a good sign. Mike ended up on the sofa, wrapped in the same brown blanket that Harvey had brought to him in the hospital. It seemed like a long time ago to Harvey, four months seeming to have simultaneously flown by and dragged on. Harvey decided to make Mike some tea for lack of anything else to do.

As Harvey held the mug out to Mike, Mike sat up looking very determined.

"I want to learn how to protect myself." Mike stated. Harvey paused, then sat next to Mike on the sofa.

"You want me to...what, take you to boxing ring?" Harvey clarified.

"Don't get me wrong, having you around makes me feel really safe. But I think I need to learn to take care of myself." Mike shrugged. "I mean, you won't always be there."

"Alright. You have a point." Harvey nodded, convinced it was a good idea. Though he still planned on being around Mike to take care of him.

"But I only want to train with you. No one else." Mike said hurriedly. "I just..."

"It's alright, I know." Harvey leaned back into the cushions. "When do you want to start?"

"As soon as possible would be good?" Mike sounded unsure. "It's kind of up to you."

"How about this Saturday?" Harvey stretched, letting himself relax after the long day. "We have some free time then."

"Sounds good." Mike sighed. "I just don't want to be at the mercy of every mugger and crazy psychopath that happens to find me anymore."

Harvey didn't know what to say.

Tonight was a bad night. A nightmare night. Mike's scream rang through the apartment, terrified and crying. Harvey had been hoping that it wouldn't happen, Mike had gone almost an entire month without a nightmare. That streak was over. Mike was in the throes of a nightmare, and it was a bad one. One of the worst he had experienced in a long time.

Mike woke to soft touches on his shoulders, fingers in his hair and thumbs brushing the tears from his cheeks.

"Harvey!" Mike sat up and buried his face in Harvey's neck like he had done so many times before after a nightmare. Already well-versed in what to do, Harvey crawled onto the bed without breaking contact with Mike, cradling the smaller man to his chest and nearly pulling him into onto his lap.

"I'm right here. I'm here, it's alright, you're safe." Harvey started his repetitions of soothing phrases. Mike clung to him, burning with shame while seeking the only comfort that he could find. This was the regular routine.

"I'm s-sorry." Mike mumbled into Harvey's shoulder. Harvey squeezed him tightly and smoothed the sweaty hair from his forehead. This was also part of the normal after-nightmare. Mike was always embarrassed by how he acted on these nights. Harvey just shushed him, keeping him close until Mike's breathing evened out and his arms loosened. Harvey sat by Mike for the rest of the night, soothing him when he whimpered and dozing in-between Mike's nightmares.

Mike woke to find Harvey sleeping next to him on top of the blankets, hair mussed and shirt wrinkled. Mike blushed, getting up out of bed. He made his way to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Bruises peeked out from under the short sleeve of his t-shirt where the mugger had grabbed him, covering one of the scars Mike had received from him. Mike probed the tender muscles with two fingers, wincing slightly. It would heal, Mike knew it would, but it didn't stop him from stripping off his shirt to see the rest of himself.

Thin pink scars criss-crossed over his pale skin, some very light and almost faded, others still puckered and noticeable. Mike traced the familiar lines with absent-minded motions, watching the motions. He decided it was fitting, being reminded of how messed up he really was every time he was close to forgetting. As if the physical reminders weren't enough, the universe just loved to rub Mike's lack of fighting skills in his face.

"Mike?" Harvey asked from the doorway. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Mike pulled his shirt back on.

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