Ricardo stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets as he walks side by side with Rob, the two of them moving away from Mike and Alex's hotel room to find somewhere quiet to talk. Rob had observed the ring announcer's lingering sadness and confusion from Friday, finally convincing him to tell him what's been going on. It seems easy to decide where to go, the two of them almost laughing as they both reach for the door to the roof, ignoring all signs that warn only hotel staff are allowed to use it. Finding it unlocked, they do grin then, Rob motioning Ricardo on ahead.
He walks up the stairs slowly, staring up at the late morning sky as Rob joins him. It at least will be a quiet place to confess, so he sighs and settles in by a grate, looking over his shoulder at his friend as he sits down crosslegged across from him. "So what's been going on with you, man?"
Ricardo closes his eyes and breathes in the soft air, sighing. "Well, um. I know I should've told you this sooner, especially considering- I don't want you to think that it's going to affect my ability to work for you, or my dedication to you becoming World Heavyweight Champion." Rob begins to look worried so he finally just lets it all out- the dream he'd had before Night of Champions, how it had weighed on him the past few weeks, and now... this past Friday, Alberto admitting to him that he'd apparently done it all to protect him... and what Mike had said afterwards, about the bowtie, that had pieced it together and made it all so very painfully real in Ricardo's mind. By the end of his recollections, he's back on his feet, pacing distressedly. "I don't want you to think that what Alberto has said, what I think I'm remembering, will cause me to betray you, or anything. Two wrongs don't make a right, and I would never do to someone what Del Rio has done to me. Por favor, Rob-"
Van Dam finds his feet and stops Ricardo's pacing with warm hands on his arms, squeezing. "Hey, man, I don't doubt you, ok? I trust you, and I know you mean it when you say you want to help me become World Champ. Don't worry about it." He rubs his hands up and down his biceps briskly before moving away, once more sitting crosslegged. "But you honestly mean, through all of this, he was somehow doing it all in your best interests? He has a weird way of showing it, huh?"
Ricardo nods, sitting back down across from him. "Yes, he does. But the more I've thought about it, the more... it kind of made sense, I guess. That whole match that Del Rio and I had, it was weird in and of itself." He distractedly massages at his recently injured arm, sighing. "See, first of all, the trainer himself said it. The injuries I received from the armbar were... minimal compared to most. I was too scared to realize it at the time, but he barely had ahold of me, was only applying enough pressure for it to look painful. Maybe if I hadn't struggled so much, nothing bad would've come from it." He bites his lip, still replaying that horrible night over in his mind, as well as he can remember considering how fast everything had happened, how dazed he was... which reminds him. "On top of it all... That superplex?"
"Yeah?"
He sighs. "It was a move that Alberto taught me how to defend myself against." He stares at his hands. "There's no way he did it accidentally, Alberto does nothing accidentally, especially in the ring."
Rob nods, leaning closer while maintaining his crosslegged positioning, Ricardo envying him his flexibility for a moment before focusing on what he's saying. "Listen, man. I understand why you feel conflicted, but you don't need to be. I've enjoyed having you working alongside me, and I'll be honest... what I know of this whole Del Rio situation, it doesn't sound like it was a healthy friendship, if you don't mind my saying. But ultimately it's your decision. If you continue working with me, that's great, and if you want to try to sort things out with him, that's fine too. I won't make you choose between us. I know how twisted up things can get in this business, friendships come and go, and sometimes are reborn when you least expect it. You're a good guy and I trust you to keep things professional when it comes to being my ring announcer, so either way, I'm not gonna pressure you into anything."
Ricardo swallows heavily and shakes his head, smiling wanly. Alberto rarely if ever was so understanding, he thinks grimly. "Thank you, Rob," he breathes out. "I'm not planning on making any big decisions right now, however. I still haven't worked out what I think about what Alberto has told me, much less everything else. If you don't mind, I'd be pleased to remain on as your ring announcer."
Rob chuckles. "Of course, man. I told you, I trust you."
The younger man sighs, warmth from his new friend's easy faith suffusing him and easing some of his worn confusion. "Gracias, Rob."
There's a strange vibe about the arena that following week's Raw, not that Alberto exactly cares about what else is going on to the others this evening, as usual, but the building just feels... off. He realizes why quickly when he notices that Ricardo isn't there, spotting RVD alone wandering the halls with that typically infuriatingly easygoing look on his face. The part of him that'd been quietly yearning just for a glimpse of his best friend after Friday night grows all the more vocal, Alberto wondering why exactly he's so deadset on it, unable to distract himself even during the match against Zack Ryder later that night.
The annoying man even gets a couple of nearfalls, Del Rio only just kicking out both times, his anger and disgust in himself growing as he fails to get much of any offense against Ryder, until finally he forces himself to think back on something other than Ricardo's not being at the arena again, finding focus in hte match finally as he recalls in the past how Zack had mocked Ricardo relentlessly, even going so far as to pour milk over his head apropos of nothing one night, which is why Alberto had so often been amused whenever the man had been put into matches against him, finding some joy in locking in armbars on him over and over again, making him give up quicker each time, his own measure of gaining revenge... He regains composure at these memories, whipping Ryder's arm against the bottom rope before twisting him into the armbar, the broski quickly tapping.
But the victory holds no pleasure to Alberto, who remains frustrated at just how long it'd taken, in comparison to the past matches when he could have the man beat within three minutes or less. After kicking Zack in the head, he leaves the ring, still tense with displeasure. He grows all the angrier when he watches RVD doing an interview, airing a clip of his past matches and what he was capable of doing in a hardcore match, sneering as he watches it. Meh, idiota gringo. Haven't yet seen what I'm capable of in such a setting, now have you?
He closes his eyes, wishing that Ricardo would also be kept out of this situation, but somehow knowing that that's very unlikely, especially after the last PPV, when he thought he was in the clear, just for RVD and Miz to work together and have Vickie reverse her own decision. He can only imagine what the ring announcer could do this Sunday, the dread swirling up within him as he considers the multitude of possibilities, all of the things that Ricardo had done for him during ladder matches and other weapon-based matches, what he might risk to assist RVD. Ay... Ricardo. For once, try to keep yourself safe. Revenge against me isn't worth you getting injured, mi amigo. He shakes his head, shouldering his bag and leaving the arena, unable to fight his uncomfortable jitters as time passes somehow alternatively quickly and slowly all at once towards the Battleground ppv.
Smackdown comes along and it's hard to miss Ricardo in that bright pink Rise Above Cancer t-shirt with RVD's logo on it, his Battleground opponent standing next to him in the matching black one. Alberto swallows, staring at them as they talk carelessly in the middle of the hallway, Ricardo grinning and motioning with his hands as he tends to do when happy and at ease. He can't remember the last time Ricardo had been like that around him, before the suspension, he thinks. Maybe after the Payback PPV, which feels so long ago now... He sighs and ducks into his locker room, not wanting to be caught staring at them. As it happens, anyway, Van Dam has a match against Fandango and he watches with a small smile as Ricardo looks on incredulously at the dancing man in the ring.
The match doesn't last that long, RVD about to win when Summer Rae comes around and pushes him off-balance on the top rope, the match going by DQ. Fandango begins looking for a weapon after leaving Rob in the ring, struggling to recollect himself, Ricardo yelling at the man while trying to stay out of his way. He doesn't find weapons under the ring so he goes to the other side, just for Ricardo to approach and slam a fist against the steel beams that hold the ring apron together painfully hard, the sound it makes causing Del Rio to wince. It accomplishes what he'd wanted, however, distracting Fandango from his mission- long enough for RVD to finish regrouping and kick him away from the ring announcer, Alberto's tense stare relaxing infinitesimally until he refocuses, a trash can being rolled into the ring. As Ricardo holds it in place in a manner that's way too similar to the night Alberto had lost his tooth, Van Dam climbs up on the other side of the ring and dives, hitting another Van Terminator as the younger man lets go of the weapon and steps aside just in time.
Del Rio hisses and rolls his eyes as he watches the two men laugh and examine the shredded trash can, sneering before he angrily clicks the TV off and goes out for his own match and the interview that is scheduled just before it. He's just said he's going to throw RVD into a trash can and send him back where he came from- which is a nice visual, especially when, for a wild moment, he imagines also reclaiming his friendship with Ricardo after doing so... though he logically knows it's not going to happen, no matter what happens this weekend. He had worked too hard to get them to this point, allow the man to find some independence and happiness far away from Alberto and his various issues.
He's interrupted, however, from both his interview and fanciful thoughts by a hesitant looking tech who approaches with something that Alberto quickly recognizes, telling him it's a present from RVD. He stares down at the battered trash can, swallowing harshly as he takes it from the man, forgetting everything else as he stares down at it, his daydreams about this Sunday- leaving with his title, RVD left battered and bruised, and Ricardo once more where he belongs- shattering into a million pieces at his feet. With a snarled yell, he throws the trash can angrily before storming off for his match against Dolph Ziggler.
Even through the haze of anger, he spots the current Money in the Bank holder, Damien Sandow, at the announcer's table, and he glares out at the other man as he waits for Ziggler to make his way to the ring. The match is brutal, and he starts to worry again for his dental work, but by the end, everything but his teeth hurt, Alberto holding his neck post-victory as he stares out over the crowd, title held high in success. He drops uncoordinatedly back to the mat with a bone rattling impact and winces, wishing again that Ricardo was there to help him back to the trainer's, distract him from the pain with his softly spoken Spanish, careful fussing.
But he's not, Alberto has to find his own way or appear weak to the thousands of eyes on him should he allow the referee to assist him, so he trudges up the ramp and to the trainer's office stubbornly, eyes only half opened as he sits down to wait... when an odd flash of memory comes back to him, of this room and... hurting dark eyes, so familiar but... "Why?"
It feels like some sort of strange deja vu, distant and muffled as though he's reliving it through thick, confusing fog, as he swallows, hears himself ask "Why do I do anything, Ricardo? ... To protect you of course, tonto. That's all I've wanted to do..."
He pales, neck pain all but forgotten as he sits up with a jerk, eyes wide. "Maldita sea! No, no..." He stares ahead, horrified as he realizes that it's highly possible his carefully crafted plan is about to crash and burn at his feet, depending on what Ricardo had heard out of his own lips the week prior. "Ay, fool!" he grouses at himself. "Why did you have to say anything?" But the longer he sits there, the more of the memories begin to register with him, causing him to wonder. "And what was Ricardo doing in here with me?"
He stares at the calendar, realizing that the next night would be a complete two months since he'd put this all in motion. "No, no, it cannot end like this... I've done too much, I can't allow it to..."
His resolve had clearly become too weak after all of this time, he can't allow forces beyond his control to make it any harder to uphold. Quickly forgetting his post-match exam, he leaves with a new determination, aware that having less than 48 hours before Battleground is giving him very little time to properly brainstorm, figure out what to do before the PPV to make sure that his plan won't be in any further jeopardy. But he has to salvage it, somehow.
And he will.
