He feels numb. All Ricardo had wanted was to accompany Alberto to ringside, support him as he always had... and yes, he knows he probably should've listened to his employer, but it'd felt wrong to leave him alone out there, dealing with Colter and Swagger by himself, and though he couldn't do much due to his ankle, he'd at least wanted to support the older man. But it had all gone wrong, his employer targeted by both men and he feels disgusted with himself, worried about how his employer will react to it all being his fault. He'd tried entering the ring to help him just to get shoulderchecked off of the apron to the floor, where he hadn't been able to move since. Tears trail down his face as he ponders this, how he can't move his arms or legs, everything just a little blurry and distant. Por favor, he thinks desperately, still not sure what's going on inside of the ring. The last thing he had seen hadn't been good, his employer getting laid into with both of his crutches.
Still feeling empty and motionless, he listens as Del Rio screams overhead, spitting out angry, painful Spanish apparently to the two men who'd so thoroughly attacked them. This close to Westlemania. It's not good, if Alberto had gotten injured, now... and all he can think is it's my fault. It's all my fault. I am a fool. Lo siento, El Patron, lo siento. His tears are turning into sobs, into hyperventilating struggles to breathe, and he still can't feel his legs or arms. A referee and trainer has been with him since he'd fallen, the rest in the ring with Del Rio, but he ignores them, barely realizing they're asking him questions, trying to listen to what's going on in the ring.
Finally his fingers twitch and he can feel some discomfort in his limbs, which is an odd kind of comfort as his tears turn to relieved ones. "I can- can feel that," he whispers as the trainer trails an instrument along his unbroken foot. With more time, feeling slowly returns to him and he's helped to his feet, the referees careful with him as he's assisted to the back. Alberto is already back there, the trainer's assistant wiping the oozing wounds along his back and shoulders and Ricardo feels ill as soon as he sees the horrible welts, his eyes filling with tears anew as he's helped over to a cot and laid down. My fault, my fault...
The trainer eventually leaves to check on someone else, giving Alberto time to rest while still sitting up to keep pressure off of his wounds. Ricardo stares at the ceiling, drowning in physical and emotional pain and the silence still coming from his employer, when he can't stand it any longer. Struggling, he slides slowly off of the cot and catches his breath, amazed that he'd gotten back onto the floor without faceplanting or any other mishap. Almost missing his crutches, he plaintively hobbles his way to his friend's side and gets another good look at his back, shuddering painfully. Cream for his welts is still sitting nearby and he stares at it, sniffing slightly, before picking up a couple of unused gloves and carefully putting them on. Alberto says nothing as Ricardo gingerly smears some of the cream onto his fingers and across his employer's back, gently rubbing them into the welts to ease some of the agony he knows his employer has to be in. Despite his vision still wavering due to tears, he holds his hand steady and finishes quickly, angry at the trainer for leaving Alberto to suffer like this but even angrier at himself for all but putting the weapons involved in this into Swagger and Colter's hands. "Lo siento," he finally murmurs, turning painfully back towards his own cot after removing the gloves and tossing them into a nearby garbage pail. "Soy un idiota..."
He's barely taken a step when a hand reaches out and grips his wrist, stopping him. "Ricardo," Del Rio's pain-tight voice says after a moment. He turns slowly to find the older man staring at him and he shudders, eyes falling to the tiles reflecting the florescent light overhead as he waits for whatever his employer will have to say regarding his latest faux pas. "You're not an idiota." he squeezes his wrist. "This is just one of those things, si?" He takes a breath and shakes his head. "Like when I urged you to stay in the back and that perro Big Show got his hands on you, and you forgave me for that before I even said anything. No point in dwelling on it, Wrestlemania is too soon for such things. Let's just move on, si? I don't blame you."
Ricardo's eyes are wet and filled with pain as he looks up at his employer, shaking his head as he sniffs. "Are you sure, El Patron? This- this... your back..."
"Yes I'm sure," he insists, tugging on Ricardo's wrist. "Come here, mi amigo." Once they're face to face, he forces a smile, though it's painfilled and a little shaky. "Are you alright? Your ankle? And... everything else? I saw the trainers with you..."
He's tempted not to say anything, to let this moment be about Alberto and his mangled back, but the longer his employer stares at him, the more he wants to just confess, let go of just how scared he'd been. "I... Swagger knocked me off of the apron," he admits. "I was trying... trying to help you..." Alberto nods, his eyes darkening at just how off-balanced his ring announcer sounds. "I hit the floor so hard, and I couldn't... I couldn't move. It was... my arms and legs, they were... numb for a little bit."
Del Rio turns to him, his eyes narrowed. "How long is a little bit?" He begins looking around for the trainer, to grill him on what could've caused that, when Ricardo rests a trembling hand on his employer's shoulder.
"Not long, it's nothing-"
"It's not nothing," he snaps, easing back slightly when he spots the wide eyed fear on the ring announcer's face at the heat of his temper. "Lo siento, it's just... my body feels like it's on fire, and now you're telling me this- and acting like it's... it's unimportant. It is important, Ricardo. Your pain matters to me same as my own does. Por favor, talk to me..."
His eyes fill with tears and he reaches out to steady his employer, shaking his head. "Just for a couple minutes, I'm ok now, El Patron. He- he said it was probably just the shock of it- I might be sore tomorrow, but I should... should be ok to accompany you to the Empire State Building."
Alberto frowns, already planning on talking in length with the trainer about exactly what had happened, but not wanting to add to Ricardo's pain, take away his excitement for one more thing, nods faintly. "Fine, Ricardo. I'm looking forward to it as well, amigo," he murmurs, taking in how his eyes light up a little, obviously expecting his employer to decline his involvement in the media event leading into Wrestlemania week. He sighs, vowing once more to pay Swagger back in full for all that he'd done to the both of them over the past few weeks.