A/N: I dreamed something similar to parts of this. My subconscious hates me, heh.
Elimination Chamber has come and gone. To both Alberto Del Rio and Ricardo Rodriguez' relief, the pay per view passes as they'd hoped. Del Rio retains against the Big Show and there's no sign of Ziggler afterwards, so they continue celebrating his being champion, refusing to let the lingering threat weigh either of them down.
That is, until the following Smackdown, when Wrestlemania tension is at an all-time high. Most of the competitors that fought to face Del Rio and failed are all there... Jericho, Henry, Orton, Sheamus, Daniel and Kane. Also uncomfortably aware that no one had seen Dolph Ziggler tonight, all factors which add to both men's worry, Alberto keeps Ricardo behind him, away from the angry superstars all bickering amongst themselves. When the first punch is thrown, Alberto moves quickly. "Get out of the ring, now," he orders Ricardo in a strained voice as he pushes off his title onto the younger man.
Ricardo nods and quickly follows his commands, standing anxiously outside and watching as the men brawl inside of the ring, Henry throwing Jericho out of the ring and following him to cause more damage to him, until Sheamus and Orton knock each other to the floor below and Alberto, struggling to hold his own against both Daniel and Kane, finally sends Daniel over the top rope, where he lands with a rough thud near where Ricardo is lurking, just to knock Kane back with a harsh enzuigiri. Daniel, angry and desperate to let out his rage on his tag partner, grips the top rope and sends the much larger man out of the ring when he stumbles against it.
Now with Alberto left alone in the ring, surveying the scene around him as Sheamus and Orton fight through the crowd and the tag champions argue up the ramp, looking like they could come to blows at any time, Henry and Jericho still exchanging blows though the much larger man visibly has the upper hand, Ricardo hesitantly inches back inside and hands the title over to him. Smiling in thanks, the Mexican aristocrat wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer, talking lowly to him in Spanish as they watch the angry men from the Sunday prior disperse.
They think they're done for the night but are ultimately proven wrong when, just as Alberto is about to lead Ricardo to the ropes to leave, the audience begins reacting negatively to something. Del Rio tenses once more next to Ricardo and the ring announcer follows his gaze, swallowing when he realizes- Roman Reigns is in the crowd, staring up at them from behind the barricade wall. Which means that Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins are somewhere nearby as well. "El Patron-" he starts to say, hand clinging to his employer's bare shoulder.
He shrugs him off, turning to look him in the eye once more. "Go, Ricardo. Get out of here." There's a strained determination in the older man's eyes- Ricardo had already been attacked once by The Shield, and he refuses to let it happen again. "Move. Now."
"But-"
"Now! Go, mi amigo," he orders, quickly turning his attention back to the three approaching renegades. Not wanting to be more of a distraction, Ricardo slips out of the ring and stands by the commentary table, watching on in horror as Reigns, Rollins and Ambrose circle his best friend, smirks on each of their faces. A cold chill washes down his spine as he watches on, frozen in place and unable to do anything as they climb up onto the apron and regard him cruelly. Alberto turns in a circle, trying to watch for some sort of offense he can get in against them, but their every movement is calculated- perfectly timed. All move at the same time, slipping into the ring like they'd practiced it until every step was done in concert.
Ricardo bites his lip as it starts, the three pounding his friend down and, no matter how Alberto tries to fight back, there's no ground to be gained against the three. His face is tight with tension and pain and Ricardo knows that he won't be able to take much more. He considers trying to help, his eyes falling on a nearby steel chair, but as he looks back into the ring, Alberto is staring at him, as if reading his mind, and shakes his head at the ring announcer. He swallows and hesitates, not wanting to go against his employer's wishes but also not wanting to see him hurt further by these three men. Still lost in uncertainty, he gapes as the choice is taken away from him- The Shield throw Del Rio out of the ring savagely, his body landing with a vicious thud near where Ricardo is.
He's about to go to him, try to pull him to safety, when his vision is blocked out by black- Roman Reigns sneering across at him as he ruthlessly pulls Alberto back to his feet, yelling in his face as the other two get into position. No, no, no, Ricardo chants mentally, speechless as the three prepare for the Trio Bomb, time seeming to slow as the younger man's trembling fingers tighten against the title belt he'd almost forgotten he was holding onto, then speeding up when Alberto crashes through the table, barely twitching afterwards. Unexplainable mission complete, The Shield leave as quickly as they'd arrived, Ricardo frozen in place as he stares down at his motionless best friend. He's just taken a step when-
Here to Show the World echoes through the arena, leaving his chest feeling even more constricted as he looks through the ring ropes to find the trio that had tried a couple of times to cash in against Alberto fruitlessly racing down the ramp, Big E. strong arming a referee along with them. Reality crashing down around him once more, he forces himself forward and drops to his knees next to Alberto, gingerly touching his shoulder, face. "El Patron- El Patron, wake up!" he chokes out, second guessing himself even as he shakes him, trying to wake him up. He has no idea what injuries Del Rio might have, but...!
His thoughts are disrupted when rough hands grab the back of his tux, forcing the fabric against his throat and cutting off his oxygen for a moment before he's sent flying backwards and crashes into the wall surrounding the timekeeper's area, gasping for air as soon as he lands. Slumping to the ground, he's forced to watch helplessly as Big E. now turns to his employer, bodily lifting Alberto out of the crumpled table and throwing him thoughtlessly under the bottom rope into the ring, Ziggler quickly rolling in after him.
From this angle, Ricardo can't see what's happening but he can guess as the bell rings, the audience holding their breath as the briefcase is cashed in. He's just crawled towards the apron when the bell rings again, his eyes closing as the music playing is yet again Dolph's. The title is still in his hands and he holds it close, trembling when he realizes that all of Alberto's hard work and determination to finally be World Champion had ended in the worse possible way. He thinks if he could get up and run, he'd probably be tempted just to leave with the title, but before he can even try to force himself to his feet- using the ring apron curtain to stand- Big E. pushes him back down to the floor, smirking down at him with danger in his eyes.
"Hand it over, little man," he sneers, gripping the leather strap and pulling it clean from his hands, the ring announcer helplessly clinging to thin air. As he goes to hand it over to the new World Champion, Ricardo hits his head against the side of the ring, shuddering anew. Slowly collecting himself bit by bit, he crawls back up to his knees and looks into the ring, finding Alberto laying not too far from the ring apron. Scraping together his energy as quickly as possibly, he reaches under the bottom rope and drags his friend out to the apron, supporting him as best as he can while still shaking so roughly.
Pulling him the rest of the way out of the ring, Ricardo cradles his upper body as he lands on the floor, sprawled out limply in front of him. "I'm so sorry, El Patron. So sorry." Tears prick at his eyes as he buries his face in Alberto's neck, wishing that he could've done something. Anything. "Please forgive me." He's still repeating these words over and over again when he feels something shifting against his hair, teasing along the back of his skull. Pulling away with a weak sigh, he stares down to find Del Rio's eyes fluttering open. "El Patron?"
He grimaces, staring back at his ring announcer wearily. Ricardo can tell just by looking at him that he knows, that gleam of pride that had been in his eye since winning the title dull, fading away the more he regains awareness and puts the pieces together. "My title," he breathes out in a choked tone, confirming the ring announcer's thoughts.
Sniffing, Ricardo brushes his sleeve over his face, wiping some of the escaped tears away before turning his focus back to the hurting man, helping him to sit up as he struggles against visible dizziness. "I'm so sorry, El Patron, this is all my fault-"
"No," he interrupts immediately, almost shaking his head but catching himself in time as he rests a hand to his throbbing forehead. "It's not your fault. What were you supposed to do? I couldn't even hold my own against all of them, how could you be expected to?"
"I could've tried-"
"No. You've been attacked more than enough recently, mi amigo. I'm glad you're fine, I need you healthy and whole while I get back my title belt." Ricardo stares at him, still trembling so thoroughly that Alberto can feel it through his own pain, and he sighs, wrapping an arm around the ring announcer and pulling him closer, resting his cheek against the top of his head as they lean on each other. "You up for that? Hmm? Helping me regain what's mine?"
"Of course, El Patron. I always will do what I can to help you," he breathes, his tremors slowly easing as Alberto runs his hands up and down Ricardo's arm in a comfortingly repetitive motion.
"I know." Del Rio smiles faintly as he already begins working out a plan on how exactly to get his title back, first starting with revenge against The Shield to get them out of the way. "If anyone should apologize, I think it should be me," he admits after a moment of listening to Ricardo's breathing. "If I had gotten revenge against them when they'd attacked you and Dreamer, maybe this wouldn't have happened..."
Ricardo looks up, surprised. "If I hadn't convinced you to not go after them... I just... didn't want you to be distracted from your own goals. I was in the wrong place, wrong time, and didn't want to destroy your chances at a title opportunity because of it..."
The Mexican aristocrat chuckles mirthlessly, realizing that they could just go in circles on who the culpability of this all lays on forever and ever. "Either way, next time it won't end this way." He squeezes Ricardo's shoulder and sighs as the ring announcer once more rests against him, a bit calmer now. "Anyone messes with us, they'll pay."
"Of course, El Patron. That Barbie Ziggler was just lucky tonight. You'll be champion again very soon."
"That's what I like to hear."