A/N: EuM is going on a brief hiatus after this chapter because I'm going to be spending some time with my best friend, and I won't be watching WWE while I do so. As soon as I get caught back up on it, I'll write and post BtB 166 and EuM 6 and 7, presumably at some point around the beginning of the week of the 23rd. Thanks for your patience and hope this chapter holds you all over until then!
Del Rio had tried to be good. Just. A fair champion. For awhile, anyway. But the people still had disliked him, cheering on the likes of Dolph Ziggler and even Jack Swagger over him, with their We The People disrespect, and a multitude of other things that had ate at him, until finally he opted to turn his back on them as they had to him. Which was fine, he'd always been fine with limited support, only ever truly needing Ricardo by his side to bolster his attempts in the business.
Except that it was clear that couldn't last forever, especially when the ring announcer had been suspended. So he had freed him as soon as he'd returned to announcing, to break the misery that he'd visibly been in that month, help him to find a new path. A new way. And although he hadn't been surprised by the words coming from Ricardo afterwards, knowing that some of them are probably even deserved, it had still hurt worse than anything Del Rio had ever endured to hear Ricardo's interview the week prior, that he was looking for good people to surround himself with.
So he's not sure why, at Raw, he ultimately compounds the misery he's been through during the weekend, spent dwelling on those words unceasingly, when RVD is out, wrestling Sandow in a rematch from Smackdown. His feet lead him out to the ramp instead of just allowing him to stay backstage and observe from a monitor, however, watching as Ricardo and RVD both look out at him, the ring announcer appearing annoyed and yelling towards him for a few moments, his words barely indecipherable over the crowd and Alberto's entrance music, just to quickly turn his attention back to the action in the ring. He doesn't look back at his former employer the whole time, Alberto swallowing as the match continues on like he's not even there, as if he's meaningless. He closes his eyes and winces, forcing himself to resume watching as Ricardo and the crowd continue to support his rival for the title resting against his shoulder.
He paces the ramp a time or two, smirking when Ricardo has to make a visibly concentrated effort not to look over at him when he nears the ring, but it all falls apart when RVD wins again, and he grits his teeth as the younger man enters the ring to celebrate Rob's win, clapping for him and dusting his hands off as if to say how easy it is for his new employer when he turns to look at Del Rio, the two men smirking out at the Mexican aristocrat as they continue to enjoy the moment, reminding Del Rio of the times that Ricardo had been by his side like this for his victories. He grunts and shakes his head before returning backstage, unable to stand much more of this.
He's about to leave the arena, exhausted despite doing very little and completely over this evening, when Brad Maddox stops him. "HHH has requested you to be out on the ramp with the rest for Daniel Bryan vs Big Show," he says, eyes wide when Del Rio snaps viciously at him in Spanish, pushing past him to storm back to his locker room. Dropping his bag on the floor once more in disgust, he turns back around and slams down the halls back to the gorilla position to wait for their cue to go out, nearly biting through his lip in frustration as once more the area fills with the other superstars and divas, the noise level growing more and more annoying while time ticks by slowly. He closes his eyes and hisses until finally Maddox motions them out, Del Rio finding that once more he's near the front, Miz right across from him, but he doesn't see Ricardo as easily this time, the man lost in the sea of superstars on the other side of the ramp.
He sighs and lets his mind wander, still far from caring about this Daniel Bryan situation. After all, in less than two weeks, he'll be defending his World title against RVD, with Ricardo doing what he can to keep him from walking out champion, as he had during the #1 contendership match a couple of weeks ago. It'll be the first pay per view where they face off against each other, leaving him on edge and antsy. He sighs and closes his eyes, dreading that moment, having to fight while keeping his attention off of his former ring announcer and try to focus on regaining his title. "Ay," he grouses to himself, holding the belt close to his face as he checks the ring out, watching as The Shield beat Bryan down, HHH trying to get Big Show to KO punch the man. Finally the show ends and they're allowed to filter backstage, prepare to leave.
Del Rio makes his way haphazardly through the crowd, not minding who he knocks out of his way just to get through, finally reaching some free space, breathing in relief before he turns to look back for a moment, breath seizing in his chest as he locks eyes with Ricardo, startled. They stare at each other, the ring announcer still looking a conflicted mix of sad, angry and determined, Del Rio releasing a soft breath before he turns away sharply and continues on his way, relieved to now be able to put this evening behind him, get a few days to relax before he has to turn his focus to Smackdown.
His house hasn't felt the same, a deep, dark void within its many walls, since that week after Miz and Riley had taken everything of Ricardo's away, leaving him with an empty room directly across from his own that he thinks in any other situation would be acceptable as a guest room for when his brother or anyone else comes to visit, but it just feels wrong to even consider touching it. So he hasn't looked at it since that night he had come home after firing the ring announcer, unaware if Sofia has even found the strength to go inside to clean it.
Things with the housekeeper also haven't been the same, though he hasn't seen her a lot, so busy with all of the media events in California leading up to Summerslam and then the various events since. She'd missed out on the worst of the aftermath of the bar fight with Miz, unsure of the whole story with that, and he's a bit relieved for that much. As if getting laid out with one punch wasn't bad enough, that it was on account of the Miz, and that he had to be rescued by 3MB, eats at him. The only comfort he gains from it was that it had been proof how far Mike would go to protect Ricardo if needed, easing some of the uncertainty he'd had with leaving Ricardo's only friend being the very man who'd mocked him cruelly on the commentary desk only a couple of months ago.
As the last of his responsibilities are dealt with- making sure the bills are saw to, errands are run, his cars are being maintained properly and all other various things it takes to keep his house running properly, things that Ricardo used to handle with ease but of which he now struggles to slough through alone- he sighs wearily and sinks into a hammock set up between two trees not far from the pond, carefully rocking back and forth with his eyes closed as he breathes heavily, too lost in thought to even relax, much less doze off into the nap he'd hoped to have under the warmth of the Floridian sun. His thoughts have finally begun to fade away, quiet, when something new strikes him and he sits up, almost overbalancing and falling out of the other side of the hammock.
Grabbing for his phone once he's settled again, that weightless horror of gravity trying to take him over fading away as his heart regains its regular rhythm, he holds it up and presses a button, swallowing hard when it shows him the date. September 5th, he realizes, closing his eyes. A month ago exactly, he had kicked his best friend in the skull and began putting this madness in motion. "Ay," he mumbles, suddenly sick of his own thoughts, being stuck in his own skin with nothing to distract him. Scrambling out of the hammock, he walks back to the house and sighs softly, finding himself in the kitchen and watching Sofia quietly bustle around, making supper. The menu had changed, the woman abruptly not making any of Ricardo's favorites any longer, as if it hurt her too much to even look at the recipe cards she'd wrote up for the younger man long ago, much less smell or taste them, and he agrees silently with this.
"Is there something you need, senor?" she asks quietly, not even looking over at him as he continues lurking in the hallway between the kitchen and bedrooms.
He jerks back to awareness at her voice, surprised she'd even talked to him, before venturing further into the kitchen. "I suppose... I just wanted to see how you are doing." He can't tell what kind of reaction this garners, her expression not changing as she continues to season what looks like beef.
"I am fine, senor." But she sounds far from it and he walks even closer to her, lips held so tightly that he feels like he could burst at any moment. "Dinner will be done in about an hour."
He licks his lips and nods, staring vacantly into the pots and pans scattered around the range. "That's fine, Sofia." Finally fed up by all of this, he doesn't even mind about the mess on her fingers as he grips her by the arm and turns her around gently, staring down into her face. "Do you hate me?"
She blinks up at him, overwhelming fear hidden in her eyes and it hits him anew- she must think... if he could do something so callous to Ricardo, his best friend and loyal ring announcer of almost three years, then what's keeping him from doing something similar to her should she do even the slightest thing he sees as wrong, though perhaps not as physical, since he'd impressed upon her the few times his temper had gotten the best of him outside of the WWE that Alberto Del Rio wouldn't ever lay a hand on a woman.
Realizing just how unfair asking such a question of her right now is, when she's already uncertain about a lot of things because of him, he quickly releases her and steps back. "Never mind. Alert me when it is time to eat, por favor." He turns sharply and walks away, hands trembling at his sides as he heads towards his bedroom, glancing over his shoulder at the still closed door to what had once been Ricardo's bedroom, swallowing harshly. "Ay dios mio," he huffs, entering his room and shutting the door securely behind him.
Sofia comes to find him awhile later, knocking a time or two until finally she opens the door, beginning to worry at the lack of response, just to freeze in the doorway upon finding her employer fast asleep on his bed. He's still wearing his shoes and laying on top of the sheets, looking distinctly uncomfortable as he sleeps on, hands twitching against the straps of his title belt as it rests against his chest. She swallows and closes her eyes, looking away for a moment. She'd been unable to watch WWE since August the 5th, the pain she feels towards the whole situation proving too much for her to bear should she want to continue doing her job well, so she hadn't been privy to what had been going on between the former ring announcer and the man she's currently staring at, though she'd heard here and there that he'd found a new employer and they were currently going against Del Rio for the title belt.
Warily approaching the bed, she ponders if a title belt could've possibly been enough for Alberto to turn his back on three years of dedication, wincing to herself as she leans down and tries to free the belt from his grasp. He only clings to it tighter and she gives up on that idea, instead opting to wake him up a different way. "Senor, your meal is ready," she calls to him, grimacing when he only stirs slightly. Stepping hesitantly closer, she touches his arm. "Senor, it's dinnertime-"
He comes awake with a jerk at this, gripping her hand instinctively. She gasps and that's enough for him to awaken the rest of the way, become aware of what he's doing, soften his hold on her. As they stare at each other, he can't help the sleep-slurred words that once more escape his lips. "Do you hate me, Sofia?"
He never knows later on if it's because of the hold he has on her, or if because he's still half-asleep, but she actually stays, offers an answer, her voice quavering. "No, Senor," she breathes after some thought, her eyes shining with tears. "Hate is not the word I would use... I just fail to understand... why... this had to happen..."
He wants to explain so badly, it's just on the tip of his tongue, but... She gently slips her hand free of his, straightening up and brushing a hand over her face, across her eyes, to compose herself. "As I came in to say," she whispers. "Your meal is ready for you." Before he can say anything, she turns and leaves him to find his own way to the kitchen.
He watches her go, shaking his head. "Sometimes I don't understand it myself," he murmurs before going to eat, his eyes downcast and troubled.
Alberto is tense from moment one of Smackdown, watching as, once again, all of his fellow competitors file out onto the ramp. This time, Ricardo and RVD are right across from him, close to the microphone HHH had set up so they could speak their mind, but he purposely purses his lips together tightly, unwilling to risk his job on such stupidity. To his horror and disgust, RVD approaches the mic. What he says is inconsequential to the Mexican aristocrat, but the mere fact that he is up there is beyond Del Rio's comprehension, watching as Ricardo stands anxiously next to him in the garish red shirt that he's begun to hate more and more. That he would so willingly risk his career, along with Ricardo's, is beyond foolish, he thinks with a huff. Patético...
Thankfully HHH doesn't do anything in response to RVD's brazenness- until he grows bored of the talk, or so it would seem, and begins making matches. Puts RVD against Randy Orton. Though part of Del Rio is amused by this, anxious to see his former rival take out his current opponent, he also remembers. All of the times in the past Orton had targetted his ring announcer, kicking him, throwing chili and coffee on him, among other things. Thus as all of the others return backstage, his feet once more lead him where he doesn't want to go: to the commentary desk. He tries his hardest to avoid the Ricardo subject, but Cole and JBL push him to discuss it, and, still trying to sell his plan, he begins spitting out insults, once more falling silent after he targets the man's physical appearance, mentally skidding to a stop as he realizes what he's doing, closes his eyes.
With Ricardo's self-confidence dreadfully low after the suspension, not to mention how bad it must've been after he'd attacked and fired him, it's the last thing the ring announcer needs to be hearing, especially from him, but what's been said can't be taken back so he shakes his head and tries to focus once more on the match. It's then that RVD gets thrown from the ring, falling in front of them on the floor, and Ricardo races over to check on him. Orton, however, moves quickly as well and slides out of the ring, nearly landing on top of the ring announcer, who scrambles backwards and loses his balance, falling back against the floor with his hands held up to show he means Orton no harm.
Randy turns his attention once more to RVD and Del Rio comes back to himself just to realize he'd stood from the commentary table, instinctively about to race to the younger man's defense, only the luck of Orton not actually going after Ricardo keeping him in place. But before he can take his seat back, he looks over to find JBL staring up at him in calculating confusion, as if trying to deduce the purpose of his actions, his shrewd, dark eyes boring into Alberto's as if he can read his mind, see what's running through Del Rio's mind. Unable to imagine, after the last hellacious month, that everything he'd attempted could go up in smoke because of one movement due to something deeply ingrained within him after three years of friendship and a journalist desperate for the next great scoop to keep his career from falling stagnant, he remains standing and watches as Ricardo leans over just feet away, cheering on RVD.
He swallows, closing his eyes as he considers what is to come. A month and a day, he thinks painfully. A month and a day... This racing through his mind, he then does leave commentary, but this time to grab his former ring announcer and ram him unforgivingly into the turnbuckle post. The younger man flips off of it, landing hard on the floor near the barricade wall, immediately slumping limply against the mat. Del Rio stares down at him, eyes dark with regret and anger at even having to do it just to keep his ruse afloat, when there's a flash of grey overhead and RVD lands on top of him, smashing him into the mat in defense of Ricardo. Del Rio groans and rolls away, watching as Orton quickly regains control of his opponent, throwing him into the commentary table before back into the ring, where Orton manages the victory.
Alberto laughs breathlessly as he forces himself to stand, eventually making his way into the ring to stand over his Night of Champions opponent, locking in the armbar. After being forced to break it, he once more looks out over the crowd, grinning proudly as if to say this same thing will occur at Night of Champions. Deep down inside, however... it takes everything in him not to look down, see his still dazed friend on the floor below, and go to collect him as he had many times in the past, get him to safety. He stares down at RVD, pondering just how easily it had come to the other man to get him away from the downed Ricardo, barely a moment passing from his slinging Ricardo into the post before Rob had dove down atop of him, this moment of defense ultimately costing him the match.
He closes his eyes, knowing now that this could be a clear cut way to win for Night of Champions. If it comes down to that, anyway, and he can bring himself to do it, that is... His gaze grows troubled as he walks back up the ramp, his inate need to try to do right by Ricardo warring with his desperation to remain champion.