As the road to Survivor Series rolls on, Dolph finds himself antsy and impatient for updates on Zack's condition, but there's nothing really to be known until his procedure in a couple of days so he decides to get up to speed on what exactly a torn rotator cuff could mean, what the road to recovery might mean for Zack. A quick google search later and Dolph is swallowing hard, reading through what Zack had told him about the stem cell treatment, his eyes locking when he reaches the description for surgery. "Six months?" he hisses out, slapping his phone down onto the table he's next to.
HIs blood boiling at the injustice of it, he storms out of the arena and stares up at the dark grey skies of Liverpool, England, needing something to do, some way to let out his anger before his match later. There are odds and ends that the techs had left out here, empty crates and scattered equipment, and he starts throwing it all, tearing at everything and anything in his path, aware that he probably looks pretty insane right now and not caring. His own career circling the drain more times than he'd care to admit since losing the World title and the concussions and everything else, it was made just a little more tolerable with Zack around, and the thought of having to be without him for so long, not to mention Zack's own worry about his career's security during such a lengthy recovery period...
He snarls and throws another empty crate against the wall, yelling blankly at the sky before sinking to his knees and holding his head. "This is all my fault," he finally sputters out, not that surprised when he hears footsteps behind him and looks up to find Cena approach, his leader at Survivor Series. They stare at each other for a minute before he sinks down next to Dolph.
"What is?" he asks levelly, no judgment in his eyes. No censure. Just concern.
"Zack," Dolph breathes out. "The Authority put him against Rusev to get to me, now his arm is jacked up and he might be gone for six months, and it's all my fault."
Cena sits quietly for a minute. Looks at everything Dolph's wrecked in the last few minutes. "Did he blame you for it?"
"No, of course not," Dolph snaps impatiently. "He wouldn't... not out loud, anyway, but it doesn't matter. I know it's my fault. They're using him against me and now he's hurt." Cena watches him for a few minutes before Dolph looks up. "What?!"
"Then make them pay for it," he says simply. "Go out there tonight, beat Mark Henry, shut up the Authority, and then go home and be there for Zack."
Dolph stares at him for a minute. He still doesn't trust him, not after their own history, not after what Zack endured partially because of him, but it's sound advice. He decides to go along with it, heading out to the ring when it's time to wrestle Mark Henry. His focus is scattered, however, and he eventually makes one mistake too many and eats a steel chair for his trouble, winning by DQ. Mark then throws him into steel steps but, before anything else can happen, Big Show arrives and declares he's on Team Cena.
After Sheamus joins too, the team disperses and Dolph goes to the locker room to change, eager to leave, get some sleep. One night closer to returning to the States, to see Zack. At least, that was the plan... until he's grabbed and thrown into the wall, then kicked roughly in the head, before being grabbed by the back of the head and dragged away, randomly thrown into things as he goes. He's all but unconscious when he's thrown into the Authority's locker room, sputtering and coughing through the agony as Luke Harper stands over him and tells HHH and Stephanie McMahon that he's a team player.
HHH, smirking so widely that even Dolph could see it through his flickering vision, calls maintenance and tells them that the office needs cleaned up, leaving him sprawled there and helping Stephanie to step over him as well. When the door opens again, he's almost relieved to see Cena, despite how demoralizing it is to get dragged up by one of his least favorite people, guiding down the hall to the locker room he'd been trying to get to earlier. Cena grabs his things and eases him down the hall to his private locker room where he locks the door after helping Dolph sit down. "Do you need the trainer?" he asks in a take-charge, no nonsense voice that isn't too common for Cena.
"No," he grunts, holding his head.
"I think-"
"I said no," Dolph insists, looking up and glaring at Cena as they regard each other for long, tense minutes.
"Fine," Cena sighs. "But it's clearly not safe for any of us to be alone anymore, so just... hang out for awhile, yeah? Catch your breath, I'll get you some pain killers, and then we can leave."
Dolph's just nodded when he realizes that Cena is screwing around with his cell phone, a pinched look crossing his face. "Hey, what the hell-?" But his huffy exclamation dies away when his phone is slapped into his hand and a groggy sounding voice comes from the speaker.
"Bro?"
"Kid?" he demands, holding the phone up to his ear with enough pressure that it almost hurts. "Hey, how are you?"
"I think I should be the one askin' that," Zack murmurs. "I caught some of Raw. You alright?"
"Don't worry about me, I'm fine," Dolph sighs, relaxing a bit at hearing Zack's voice. "You sound sleepy. Did Cena wake you up?" He casts a suspicious glare at his leader, who merely shrugs innocently before turning away to pack up the last of his crap scattered around the room.
"I texted him," Zack says. "Told him to find you, get you somewhere safe. To let me talk to you."
Dolph closes his eyes, a warm rush of emotions overwhelming him. Even across an ocean, Zack's doing the best he can to keep him safe. "Thanks, kid," he murmurs. "BIg day tomorrow, huh?"
"Yeah. Getting that procedure done. I don't think I'm going to get much sleep the rest of the night. My dad snores."
Dolph laughs softly. "Well, if you want to talk, just text me. I'll be up for a little while longer myself."
"Alright, I will," Zack agrees, sounding close to sleep already. "I'll make sure to call you after the procedure tomorrow."
"You'd better," Dolph tells him. Both linger, neither wanting to get off of the phone, content just to listen to each other breathe for a few minutes longer. "I love you, kid."
"I love you too, bro." Another few seconds, the two of them breathing in time with each other, before Zack sighs softly. "G'night, bro."
"Night, kid." Dolph scrubs at his forehead, feeling a little more centered. He looks up at Cena. "Thanks."
Cena nods, aware that he's sincere. "Let's go."
So they do, keeping an eye out for The Authority or any of their goons. No one comes, the arena is empty and quiet, and before Dolph's ready for it, he finds himself back in the bus that WWE rents for these oversea events once more, looking over at Zack's empty seat while waiting at a red light. Sighing, he finds his earphones and sticks them in his ears, chuckling when Backstreet Boys is the first thing to play, something Zack had clearly put in his playlist before he'd left.
Closing his eyes, he lets it play as the bus drives deeper into the night to get to the next stop on the European tour.
