Isolation

Progress

Mike was quiet for the next few days. Most of the time, he spent in the corner of the room, fiddling with the camera. Or watching the sky from the still broken window. At times, he would wander around the pad aimlessly, looking for something he could never find. He never seemed bothered by it though, just more confused. Eventually, he'd give up and go back to his corner. Only to continue his search a few hours later.

He was asleep when Micky found him, his head pressed up against the wall, the camera still in his hands. Since getting it, Mike practically never put it down. Micky smiled slightly and went to the table where Peter and Davy were watching Mike carefully.

"How long has he been out?" He sighed, sitting down.

Peter looked at the clock and frowned.

"'Bout an hour or so."

Micky frowned and looked back at Mike in his corner.

"Do you know what set him off?"

"He had a headache," Peter said sadly, looking down.

"Oh," Micky looked down too, fiddling with his hands.

"Has he been like that all day?"

Davy sighed and shook his head.

"He was a little disoriented and confused, but it wasn't bad until a little while ago."

"He was still acting like himself, though," Peter piped in. "If that's what you mean."

"For the most part," Davy corrected. "He's still not Mike, but he's better than he was. Not as weird about everything."

Micky smiled a little. Mike was getting better.

A memory came into his head, causing a slight smirk to form on his face.

"Hey, Davy?" He called out and the Brit's head shot up at the sound of his name.

"I think we should bring out the lists again." Micky joked.

Davy smiled slightly, but it went away when Peter glared at him.

"You still have those?" He asked, almost angrily, and Davy sighed.

"It was only a joke, Peter, and we haven't made one in years," he said, a little ashamed as he thought about it. "But we saved all of them, yeah."

The "lists" were something that Micky and Davy created together, mostly just for kicks. Partly because they were actually concerned about him. Every week for the first few months of them knowing each other, they made one of their lists. On it, they charted every word Mike said, every emotion he showed, every reaction he felt, pretty much everything he did on each day of the week. Peter hated the "lists" and he hated having to keep them secret from Mike. But over time, the lists stopped being made. Davy, especially, hadn't intended it. It was only supposed to be a joke, but it had become something much more profound with the more entries they made.

They had become the visual representation of the walls and barriers Mike had built around himself over the years, slowly being broken down.

"Peter," Micky said sitting up. "It was only a joke. We're not actually going to make them again."

"Okay," Peter nodded and sighed.

Micky nodded slightly and frowned, turning back around to face Mike.

"He really hasn't done much lately, has he?"

"He was talking again," Davy shrugged. "At least, that's something."

"What did he say?"

"Not much," Peter looked down and tapped his foot on the ground nervously. Davy smiled and looked up.

"He said good morning and asked us what we wanted for breakfast. I told him it was already afternoon. He said okay and asked what we wanted for lunch."

Micky smiled and looked between Davy and Peter. There was a mood change and Davy looked down at the ground.

"And then I told him that I already ate and he said okay and went to his corner. Then he started acting like he has been and then..."

"Oh," Micky sighed and looked back over at Mike, curled up in the corner.

"Well," he put on a smile and put his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Progress is still progress, right?"

Peter nodded, a smile forming on his face. But Davy sighed and shook his head.

"I guess," he looked at his hands. "It still isn't much though."

"So what if it's not much? It's something, isn't it? He's gettin' better all the ti-i-iiiime," he sang which caused a grin to grow on Davy's face. He tried to fight it.

"I can see your smile, Jones," he said slyly. "You can't hide it from me."

He sighed and let out a slight laugh when he did.

"I just hope you're right, Micky."

"Hey, Mike," Micky said softly, walking over to him as he regained consciousness. Peter and Davy had gone out to pick up dinner, and they offered for Micky to come, but he had said he wanted to stay "just in case."

Mike opened his eyes and looked around, a little confused by his surroundings. He glanced up and saw Micky. He stared at him with practically no expression on his face. It was only for a moment though, Mike rubbed his eyes open and smiled slightly at him.

"Morning," he said through a yawn. "Have you eaten yet? I can make breakfast."

Micky smiled.

"It's about seven pm, actually. Davy and Peter went to get dinner."

"Oh," he frowned.

"How're you feeling?"

He thought about it for a little while and looked down.

"Fine."

"That's good," Micky smiled, noticing the camera in Mike's hands. It was on and recording, but he didn't seem to notice that.

"I'm glad you like your camera."

"Huh?"

He looked up again and Micky pointed at it.

"Oh, yeah." Mike looked at it carefully and turned it off once he saw it was rolling.

Micky frowned and took another step toward him.

"Mike...?" He asked hesitantly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said, setting the camera on the floor.

"What're you doing?"

"Thinking..." he muttered to himself, leaning his head back against the wall.

"What're you thinking about, Mike?" Micky sat down beside him, turning his head to try and get Mike to look at him. He didn't and he didn't answer the question either.

"What's wrong?"

Mike frowned, clearly concentrating on the question before looking at Micky.

"I don't know," he said honestly, shaking his head. Micky sighed and put on a smile.

"It's okay, Mike. It'll be okay."