Paige loses her rematch. Ricardo swallows heavily as she cries in the ring afterwards, her makeup running slightly. He wants nothing more than to run to her and comfort her, try to distract her somehow, but he can't move from this table until the event is over. She looks desperately towards him at one point and he tries to smile sadly at her but thinks it comes out as little more than a grimace, the diva sniffing and wiping at her face as she despondently makes her way backstage. He swallows and fights the tears he feels filling his eyes as well, turning his attention to the rapidfire Spanish coming from the men next to him, desperate to focus on the action happening in the ring, knowing that the sooner it passes, the sooner he'll be able to go back to Paige.

As the Intercontinental Championship Battle Royal begins, and Alberto makes his way to the ring, Ricardo carefully stares at his papers, obligingly talking about his former employer as he always does, but yet not meeting the older man's eyes as he stands in front of him at the ropes, staring down towards him. He can feel the weight of his stare, but he's distracted enough as it is, so he fights to keep his focus until the match begins and Alberto moves away to compete. Mike falls out of sight at some point and Ricardo holds his breath, the ring slowly clearing until Ziggler eliminates Del Rio. Ricardo closes his eyes and releases a faint little sigh, disappointment for the older man overwhelming everything else he feels right now. It comes down to Sheamus and Ziggler, both terrible options in Ricardo's eyes, but when Ziggler eliminates Sheamus, it's not over- there's Mike, Mike's running, Mike's eliminating Ziggler and... Mike's champion! Ricardo can't help but smile, pleased for his friend.

After the fatal-four way, he trudges backstage and pauses in the hallway, staring at the locker room doors that are only feet away from each other, swallowing. There's the divas' locker room, where Paige is more than likely residing, mourning her inability to regain her title... there's the main locker room, where Del Rio is probably stewing over his loss, and there's the divas' champion locker room and the Intercontinental champion's locker room, side by side, containing a celebrating Miz and AJ behind one of its doors. His loyalties are tested between wanting to congratulate Miz and, yes, maybe even AJ, and consoling his former employer, but... His dark eyes tilt towards the divas' locker room and he squares his shoulders, knowing immediately where he really needs to be. Walks up to it and knocks, unsurprised when Emma answers. "Is, um, Paige-" Before he can finish, there's a flash of black and Emma is pushed out of the way as he finds his arms full of the diva herself, Paige crying bitterly into his shoulder. His heart breaks anew for her as he wraps his arms around her. "It's gonna be ok," he breathes against her hair.

"No, it's not," she sobs. "I want my title back. That was supposed to happen tonight... why did I fail?! Why... why..." Her nails are digging painfully through his jacket but he remains, carefully stroking her back, feeling the heaving of her chest through her tight wrestling gear.

He looks helplessly at Emma, who searches the locker room and finds Paige's bag, carefully handing it over to him. "Gracias," he murmurs to the Australian diva before leading Paige out of the locker room. They had stayed at Alberto's house the night before out of convenience, so he could be with Mike and Alex, but it's just not feasible now. So he takes her to his and Alex's apartment. He digs out a shirt of his and hands it over to her, smiling in what he hopes is an encouraging fashion when she ducks into the bathroom to change, her mascara still pouring down her face in dark streaks that only make her look all the paler, vulnerable. He waits, trying to give her time to pull herself together, but it's too quiet in the bathroom. He worries, he frets, he tries to keep himself busy by poking around his kitchen. Eventually he knocks and, when she doesn't respond to that, pushes the door open, breath forced from him painfully when he finds her slumped on the floor, face buried into his shirt. She's still in her wrestling gear, her makeup is still all over the place, and he watches her, his hands shaking slightly as he finds the strong woman broken and looking so young on his floor. "Paige, oh..."

Kneeling down next to her, he scoops her up in his arms and lifts her, realizing just how thin she actually is, her height always making her seem larger than she really is. But right, she's just a young, trembling woman, suffering and shaking in his arms and he closes his eyes, pressing his face into her hair. "It's going to be ok, mi fuerza..." He settles her on the bathroom sink and cups her face, tsking softly. "I've got you." As she continues to cry balefully, he collects some wipes from the cupboard and soap, lightly unfolding her fingers from their death grip on his shirt. As she looks at him, eyes red rimmed and sad, he quietly washes her face, ridding it of makeup smears and tear trails. Wishes he could wash her pain and disappointment away just as easily. "Here..." He makes sure to keep his eyes trained on the wall over her head as he helps her back onto the floor and softly urges her again to change out of her wrestling gear, slipping his shirt over her bare arms once she's done just that. It stops just short of her knees and he smiles woefully at her as she tugs at the sleeves, unable to look him in the eye. "Come, let's get you to bed."

She clings to him as he wraps his arms around her and leads her out of the bathroom, down the hall to his bedroom. As she settles into the soft sheets, he leans closer and adjusts the pillows before urging her down on top of them. She blinks slowly as he pulls away, but before he can get too far, she grabs him by the shirt and holds on, shaking her head. "Wait- wait," she whispers. Her voice is thick with tears, her accent nearly unrecognizable after the onslaught of tears, but he understands her nonetheless and sits next to her, stroking her hair out of her eyes. "I just- I wanted to say thank you, Ricardo. For- for staying, and helping me, and everything else. Giving me your shirt... which I probably ruined..." More tears start to leak out of her eyes and he sighs, his hand stroking her wrist gingerly as he leans in and lightly kisses them away, the girl shuddering at the feel of him so close to her, so gentle and sweet with his ministrations.

He smiles at her, patting her knee through the sheets. "Just... don't worry about anything, alright? Lay here and rest, and I'll be back in a few minutes." She nods slowly, watching as he leaves the room. He releases a deep breath as soon as he's in the hallway, padding quietly to his kitchen. Before realizing something was wrong, he had examined the stock of items he and Alex have around and had been relieved to find he'd had exactly what he needed for tea. Better yet, proper British tea. Once he's sure it's infused alright, he snags a mostly empty carton of milk and ventures into his bedroom, hoping that everything he's done is ok, never trying such a thing before. The shocked look on her face slowly turning into a watery smile makes him think that he's done alright here. Settling the milk on the bedside table, he rests the tray over her knees. "Does it look ok?" he whispers, giving her some time to look at it, smell the warm steam fogging up from the pot. "I've never done this before, but I thought maybe having a little bit of home with you might help... It, it's chamomile, to help you sleep. I found it at a-"

He thinks he would've babbled until the tea got cold until her soft fingers find his hand and squeeze gently. "It's perfect, Ricardo. Thank you so much."

She shifts like she's about to pour herself some, but he catches her hand this time and shakes his head. "Allow me." Smiling pensively, he pours them both a fair share into the mugs before snagging the milk. "Tell me when."

She watches closely. "When," she says finally when the tea is murky. He nods and stops, handing her the cup. "I don't even know what to say."

He laughs softly, casting an almost worried glance at her. "Just wait until you know if I did it any justice at all first."

She smiles at him. "I can tell already it's going to be perfect." Even so, he watches her intently as she takes her first sip and then, eyes widening, takes another, deeper one. "Ricardo, this really does taste so much like how it did back at home."

"Really?" When she nods, still sipping happily at the drink, his face relaxes into a grin. "I'm so glad, I wanted... I wanted it to be just right for you." He then takes a sip himself, feeling its warmth seep into his bones. It's Florida in mid-July, the last thing they need is something warm to drink but strangely enough, he finds that he likes it nonetheless.

"Thank you," she whispers. They sit side by side, drinking the rest of their tea and she sighs, resting her head on his shoulder, the chamomile working its magic and easing her closer to sleep. He watches her affectionately for a moment before cupping the back of her head and settling her onto the pillows before shifting enough to put their empty cups on the bedside table next to the empty carton, and rests the tray on the floor, under the bed so neither of them will trip over it. This done, he clicks the light off and lays down next to her, rolling onto his side and wrapping his arm around her, holding her close and snug against him. He thinks she's fast asleep when she shifts and turns to look at him, eyes only open an inch. "Ricardo?"

"Mm hmm?"

"What did you call me earlier? In the bathroom? Mi... mi re- something..."

"Mi fuerza," he corrects her softly.

"Fuerza," she repeats. "What's it mean?"

He sighs and nuzzles against her, his lips pressed to her ear as he murmurs, "My strength." She makes a soft noise deep in her throat, lightly kissing him before the tea, the soft material of his shirt, and his warmth pressed against her draws her finally to sleep. He holds her close and watches her until he can't keep his eyes open anymore as well.

Alberto stays at home the next day, which means Ricardo gets some more time to himself, to think, to relax, without the memories of his words echoing in his mind, without trying to be something he's not. Which is just as well, he has enough to deal with, Paige still quiet and grim as they enter the arena later that morning.

And then Miz suffers a seemingly minor leg injury in his match against Dolph, so Ricardo helps him to AJ's locker room while AJ and Paige go out for another tag match against Emma and Natalya. They arrive in time to watch the last half of the match, both happy when their girls win the match... but then everything goes to hell. Paige grabs AJ by the hair and starts slinging her around- into the mat, into the barricade wall, the turnbuckle post, over the commentary table. Mike pushes him away, begins running through the hall to get to his wife, and Ricardo follows him, numb and speechless that Paige- his Paige- could do something so cruel, even if to the woman who had taken her title belt a few weeks back.

Mike's out of sight when he arrives at gorilla, but Paige is heading back to the divas locker room and stops short when she sees Ricardo. He approaches her, his eyes dark and downcast. She is talking happily, her words overwhelming him and everything he could possibly want to say, her hands warm around his as she leads him down the hall, Ricardo barely able to focus on what she's saying, where they're going. It's only when he realizes that they're standing outside of the divas champion locker room that he realizes, pulls his hands away. She tries to reach out for him, questions on the tip of her tongue, but he shakes his head, sidesteps her, not allowing her to speak or touch him before he can find the words himself. "This entire time," he breathes. "All of this between us, were you using me just to get close to her? Is that the only reason-" It all hurts so much, his suspicions towards her, what Alberto had said to him... all of it. "The only reason you spend time with me?"

When he looks up, though, her lip is wobbling. The strong woman who had all but descimated AJ out there two minutes earlier now seems like she's about to cry, her hands fruitlessly reaching out for him and freezing a few inches away from his. Finally she finds her words, shaking her head vehemently. "No! Never! Ricardo, I swear, our... our friendship, the time we've had together had nothing to do with her. I wouldn't do that to you, besides what would be the point of using anyone to get close to her? Management kept throwing us in tag matches, there was no need to get any closer to her!" He watches her, weighing her words, when she slips up to him, cupping his face with her cool hands. "Please, believe me..." She leans up and kisses him, softly, slowly, exploring slightly before pulling him into the locker room, pushing the door open with one hand and slipping her other under his jacket, trailing down and starting to untuck his shirt from his pants. "Let me show you..."

This registers with him and he pulls away, staring down at her with a conflicted, hurt look on his face, the fact that they're in the doorway of AJ's locker room a stark reminder of what she'd done to one of his closest friend's wife. "I don't want this, not like... not in the way you're going about it. When we... if we... I want it to be about us, not because of something that happened, or because you feel you need to prove something to me. I just... I want someone to want me for me, and not because of some agenda or because they're guilty or whatever else." He looks away, wondering why all relationships, friendships, have to be so complicated, when she touches him again, drawing his eyes onto her once more.

"Alright, I'm so sorry," she whispers to him. "Please forgive me... but what I did to AJ had nothing to do with you, and it has nothing to do with us. You're right." He doesn't respond and her face falls. "Please, Ricardo, tell me I didn't mess everything up for us... Please tell me I'm still your fuerza."

He releases a faint breath at the Spanish word he'd used to describe her just the night before, leaning forward to kiss her softly, wanting her to stop sounding so broken and scared. Pulling away, he looks her in the eye and... dammit, despite everything that'd just happened, she's still Paige. Still the woman he'd met in England years ago at her try out so desperate to be accepted, still the competitor he'd been awed by in NXT who was doing things well beyond her years, still the woman who he'd watched become champion so unexpectedly, still the woman he'd held when she'd cried and kissed when she was covered in sand and soda and had never looked so beautiful, and... "Dammit," he finally mutters. "Of course you are, mi fuerza." After all, he had done so many morally questionable things in this business, with or without Alberto, what right does he honestly have to judge her, especially after her sincere declaration that what she'd done had nothing to do with him, nor had she used him to put the pieces into motion. Her eyes light up and a soft gasp gusts from her lips as he kisses her, holding her close.

"You forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," he sighs, kissing her again. For a moment, he wonders if Mike will be able to forgive him for this, but then Paige leans just so against him, the kiss intensifying between them, and he blanks on everything else. "We need to get out of here." He reluctantly pulls away. "Get dressed and I'll meet you in the parking lot." She tries to keep him in place with kisses, but he shakes his head, softly nuzzling into her. "Please, Paige. This doesn't feel right, in here. Just... I'll see you in a minute, alright?"

She doesn't look thrilled but she nods, turning and skipping out of the room. He winces, watching her go, before collecting AJ and Mike's bags and making his way slowly to the parking lot, finding their rental car, unsurprised that it's unlocked (security here is tight so some of them had grown comfortable enough to do this), and resting them in the backseat. "Lo siento, Mike, AJ," he sighs, hoping that this makes up for it all a little bit.

-

Alberto has a match on Superstars, just like Miz had predicted, the Mexican aristocrat stewing as he watches R-Truth approach the ring. It's meaningless, nothing, just a short attempt at working his aggravations out from the situation with Ricardo. Although Miz had made sense urging him to give Ricardo space, it still rankles at him- that he had hurt his best friend in such a manner, that this is happening at all. He grimaces and wishes he could rewind to August, do something differently, put them all on a different road where Ricardo wouldn't constantly be trapped in what ifs. He defeats Truth and he leaves, seeing no reason to remain. Home right now is full of a recuperating AJ, an aggravated Miz, and a strangely quiet Alicia and Alex, curled up together on his couch and eating ice cream. He frowns at them as he passes and finds Sofia, quietly washing dishes. The sound of clanking silverware disturbs him, always has, but her presence does the opposite, so he stays in the kitchen with her and listens to her humming Mexican tunes, the only clear sign that she knows he's there is that the sound grows a little louder, to be heard over the running water.

He sighs, crosses his arms over his chest, leans back against the fridge, and thinks. About Smackdown, about what he'll do when he more likely than not sees his best friend again. Sighs faintly and hopes he won't mess this up as well.

When he leaves the next night, Miz comes with him and they're only a few minutes away from the arena, waiting for traffic to clear so they can continue on, Alberto content to continue ignoring the other man until Mike speaks up. "Del Rio. I'm going to request an interview with Ricardo." Alberto says nothing about this and Mike rolls his eyes. "If you're in the Intercontinental champ's locker room... well, you know."

Del Rio's eyebrow arches as Mike turns back to look out of the windshield. He thinks he understands. So he stays in the locker room, quietly watches MizTV, Mike's commentary during Ziggler vs Bo. Only a couple of minutes into it, camera crews come in to set up and Ricardo follows a minute later, stopping short when he sees Alberto. "Oh," he gulps, trying to continue on with his business, moving around his former employer.

"Ricardo," Alberto mumbles, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. "May I have a minute?"

Ricardo fumbles with his microphone, hands suddenly shaking, and Alberto sighs, releasing him. "What do you want, Alberto?"

"Just to ask... if you're ok," he says softly. "After what happened with Paige..."

"I'm fine," he responds. "She's fine. Everything's fine." He turns to say something to one of the cameramen when Alberto's scoff stops him short.

"Of course it is, mi amigo. It's clear on every inch of your face."

"What do you want me to say?" he demands, suddenly turning sharply to face Alberto, his lips trembling between each word, each breath. "That the girl I have feelings for hates both my roommate's girlfriend and just attacked Mike's wife? That I'm stuck in a maelstrom of loyalty towards all three of them and I don't know what to do?" He releases a breath. "And as if that's not bad enough, I make some stupid tweets and now you barely can look at me. Yes, Alberto. Everything's never been better."

"Wha- what? Mi amigo-"

"Don't say it's not true, it's why you weren't at Raw. I just- I..."

"No! I wasn't booked, and Mike thought perhaps it'd be better if you had some time-"

"Since when do you listen to Mike?!" Ricardo demands, clearly not believing him. "Time, I didn't need time, I needed you here. Yes, your denying my suggestion hurt, but this hurt worse because... I can handle rejection, but I can't... can't go through last year again, the possibility that our friendship was over. El Patron, I just miss the days when things were simple. When I would wake up and you and Sofia would always be there. Not to say that Alex isn't a good roommate, he is, it's just... it's not the same." His lips are trembling and wet now, and Alberto sighs, his breath ridded from him as if he'd been punched in the solar plexus.

"Ay, mi amigo. I'm sorry. Por favor, forgive me. I'll never listen to Mike again, if it makes you feel better." Ricardo laughs painfully at this, Alberto's arms wrapping warmly around him. "Will you be alright in time for your interview?" he asks idly, noticing on the monitor as Mike slings Dolph into a turnbuckle post, laughing afterwards.

"Si," he whispers, quickly pulling himself together and wiping his eyes with a handkerchief that Alberto hands over. "How do I look?"

Alberto examines him. He's a little pale, his eyes a little puffy, but he nods anyway. "You look fine, mi amigo." So Alberto stands aside and watches as Mike enters the locker room, smug and pleased at what just happened. He urges Ricardo to wait a minute until his iced coffee is delivered to him, which he obnoxiously sips as Ricardo finally starts the interview. He barely makes it through one question, however, when Mike starts talking about global box office, and a number of other things that disinterest Alberto. His dark eyes flicker back to Ricardo's face as Mike changes track before a second question could be asked, snapping his fingers at a tech off to the side, who obligingly hands him a piece of paper and a sharpie.

Alberto and Ricardo both look confounded as he signs an autograph for Ricardo, talking the entire time about Ricardo being a big fan of his, and a multitude of other things, ignoring Ricardo's attempts at getting the interview back on track. The picture that Mike insists on next is the most ridiculous thing Alberto's ever seen, Ricardo looking incredulous while Mike grins into the camera like he doesn't have a care in the world. And damn him, he winks at Alberto on his way out of the room, leaving Ricardo gaping after him, flapping the paper with his handwriting sprawled along it aimlessly. "Er- ay..."

"As I said," Alberto grumbles. "Never listening to him again." He joins Ricardo and stares down at the paper, the ring announcer already looking less shocked, more put together. "What does it say, mi amigo?" Ricardo adjusts it so he can read it easier, and Alberto sighs softly. I would say great minds, but that's just too ridiculous a notion, he thinks, rolling his eyes.

Sorry about this, Ricardo, I'm trying to make AJ laugh. Told her I have an interview with you tonight, and she promised to watch it, so I'm acting it up to the hilt. Would've told you sooner but you've been... busy so I didn't get the opportunity before MizTV. By the way: I'm not blaming you for Paige's actions. What she does is on her, not you. Just like Alicia's actions couldn't be blamed on Alex. I understand this all too well. Can't say the same for AJ, but I just wanted you to know that you and I are fine. We'll talk soon.

Alberto smirks and squeezes Ricardo's shoulder. "I suppose he has some brains after all, mi amigo."

Ricardo smiles faintly and folds the letter up carefully, stuffing it into the back pocket of his slacks. "Si, well... I suppose you need to get ready for your match soon, hm?"

"Si, I do," Alberto realizes, looking up at the clock. "See you later, mi amigo."

Ricardo nods and turns to the monitor, sighing as he watches Paige entering the ring for her match against Naomi, skipping like AJ. She wins within minutes thanks to Cameron's interruption, and he slips out of the locker room to meet her in the hallway. She tries to drag him towards the divas champion locker room again, but he shakes his head, leading her towards catering, ignoring her pouts. They sit together and she sips water, Ricardo's eyes locked on the monitor as Alberto vs Roman begins. He only looks away when she leans forward, wrapping her fingers around his hand and squeezing lightly. "Are things ok with you two now? I know things were kind of rough earlier..."

He strokes her palm with his fingers and smiles. "Si, things are better. I still wish he felt differently... would at least consider... but I think I understand. Or at least, I'm trying to." He lightly presses kisses against the soft lines trailing along the delicate flesh of her hand, smiling as she shivers. "We're still friends, that's... that's the important thing, I suppose."

"Yes, it is," she whispers, leaning her hand into his gentle ministrations. "I'm glad." After a moment, she sighs. "And Mike?"

He stills against her skin and looks up at her. "We're friends too."

She nods slowly. "I promise you, Ricardo, I don't want to take your friends away from you. My issues with AJ... I never wanted them to affect you and Mike; or my issues with Alicia to ruin your friendship with Alex."

"I know," he breathes against her hand, tickling her even more as his breath ghosts against her slick flesh. "I never doubted that, Paige." He smiles at her and she nuzzles closer to him, her hair tickling his neck as she hesitates only a few inches from his lips, examining his eyes. "You're so beautiful," he breathes against her. "Mi fuerza."

She smiles, bridges the gap between them, kisses him soft and slow, gentle and searching. "You are as well," she whispers to him, grinning against his lips when his eyebrows raise inquisitively. "In here." Her hands rest softly on his chest, just over his heart. "And you are so handsome..." Shifting, she presses her hands to his face, stroking from under his eyes down to his jaw. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, or if I even do... but I'm not going to regret a moment of any of this."

Another kiss, this time heated and wrapped up in a need to be as close as possible, and Ricardo mumbles, "I'm not going to either, mi fuerza." As she scrapes her fingers through his hair and parts her lips invitingly, he only breaks the kiss when Roman's music plays, showing that Alberto has lost. He sighs and kisses her gently before pulling away, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment. "I have to go check on him. I'll meet up with you later, alright?"

She nods dazedly and watches him go, settling back in her chair with a soft grin on her face as she scrapes her nail under the label of her water, peeling it away from the plastic. "Yes you will..."