Ricardo enjoys traveling. Even when there are problems and his flights are delayed and whatever else. To see places rarely visited, meet new people, experience new things... it was his favorite thing about wrestling and he's happy to be able to return to it. Even with the heaviness of what Paige did still weighing on him, he enjoys being back in England and competing at PCW UK, even if it's a losing effort against Ligero. He then makes a quick trip to Germany to do a seminar, happy to be able to teach, pass on what he's learned in his years in the business, and not get rebuked or snubbed for trying to help.
He wanders around for awhile, taking pictures of things for Alberto and Sofia, before returning to his hotel room for a couple hours of sleep before his flight back to the States. He has a few things to sort out before flying out once more- with Alberto- to go to Australia. It makes him feel terrible, but Paige is on tour with WWE, so he won't be able to see her before leaving on Wednesday, and he's glad for it. He's still not sure how he feels or much else, certain that the time apart will, hopefully, help things to be clearer for them both.
A lot of things are happening anyway, helping to distract him further from his emotional dramas. Alberto had been scheduled to compete at a AAA iPPV but it had gotten rained out, which effectively canceled it, to Ricardo and Sofia's relief, due to his quad injury. It had been rescheduled to Monday night but that too had fallen through since it had been a holiday and the government buildings were all closed, keeping them from getting permits to hold the event on the revised date. Rescheduled again to Wednesday, Alberto had had no choice but to cancel his match since he was supposed to be flying out to Australia then. He's uncomfortable with canceling one appearance for the other, especially considering how welcoming AAA had been to him after everything with WWE went down, but all in all it works out because they arrive at the airport just to be told that there's some snafu with Ricardo's passport, and there's talk of not letting him out of the country.
Alberto and Ricardo exchange glances before the Mexican aristocrat steps forward, talking lowly with the woman who's staring boredly at Ricardo, quickly gaining her attention. Things move rapidly from there and the woman makes a few calls, fixing whatever the problem is, and soon she hands over Ricardo's ticket and his passport with the needed stamps on it. "Have a nice trip," she intones, looking relieved to turn her focus onto the customers behind them.
Ricardo walks hurriedly to keep up with Alberto then glances behind his shoulder at the freaked out woman. "What'd you say to her?" he demands, eyes wide.
"Best you not know, mi amigo," he grins, resting a hand on Ricardo's back and guiding him through the sea of people going this way and that in their desperation to make it through security onto their flights in time. Ricardo pouts but Alberto doesn't give in so he accepts that it's just going to always be one of those things involving Alberto that he has to wonder about.
They land safely in Melbourne and wander around, taking in some of the sights before the event. Ricardo competes against Brad Smyth and, although he loses, walks out content in his attempt and happy because it had been a pretty fun match. He smiles and shrugs at Alberto before ducking into the locker room to shower and change so he can announce Alberto to the ring for his match, standing under the hot water for a few minutes before shampooing his hair quickly. He gets out after rinsing off and sighs, speeding through the drying off process as quickly as he can. The clock ticking behind him is taunting him as he gets into his clothes, then tries to style his damp hair into something that isn't entirely ridiculous. He's back with Del Rio in ten minutes, his former employer examining him with a faintly amused smile. "Alright?" he asks anxiously, adjusting his dark jacket, the shirt, his slacks, desperate to look as decent as possible considering he's representing Alberto once more.
"Si, mi amigo, you look fine," he tells him, catching his anxious hands and squeezing them. "Relax."
Nodding, Ricardo tries to believe what he's saying, releasing a long breath. "How's your leg?" he wonders, glancing down at his thigh.
"It's fine," Alberto says, taking a few steps around to prove it to the ring announcer. "See? You and Sofia's making sure I rested and took it easy last week was all I needed." He smiles at Ricardo, wrapping his arms around the younger man. "Gracias."
"I'm glad," he murmurs, hugging him back. They're still standing there when they're told Alberto's match is next, Ricardo slowly pulling away so they can watch Ken Anderson make his way to the ring. Another man who had been left bitter and exhausted by WWE before moving on and finding some measure of happiness in his career, he stands in the ring and smirks as he begins to introduce himself loudly, Ricardo glancing at Alberto.
"Go show him how it's done, mi hermano," Alberto says, pushing him towards the curtain.
Ricardo nods and does just that, overpowering Anderson's voice with his own. When he introduces Alberto, the crowd responds excitedly and he smirks, standing aside as his employer makes his way out, spinning his white scarf around a few times before leaning over and clapping Ricardo on the chest, winking at him. They make their way to the ring where Ricardo stands at ringside, watching the competitive match between Anderson and Alberto. He's not planning on getting involved until Ken, attempting to squash Alberto's offense, kicks out and lands a hard strike right to Alberto's thigh, downing him immediately. Time slows for Ricardo as he gapes at his downed best friend, shaking his head desperately. Leaping onto the apron, he yells at Anderson, attracting his attention away from Alberto and giving him a chance to recollect himself.
Ken smirks and approaches him, eyebrows raised. "What?"
He keeps an eye on Alberto as he stares at Ken. "You want to try that announcing thing again? I know I outshone you in spades earlier, but I'm feeling charitable right now. I'll give you a second chance."
"Right now?" he demands on a laugh, narrowing his eyes at Ricardo. "Not sure how you missed it, but I'm in the middle of kicking your employer's ass-" Something dawns on him and he turns in time to see Alberto rushing towards him. "Nuh uh!" He ducks the incoming enziguri and watches as Alberto kicks Ricardo hard, the ring announcer hitting the apron and rolling off onto the floor. "Well, shit," he mutters, getting to his feet. "Sorry 'bout that!"
The match doesn't last that long afterwards, as least it doesn't seem to to Ricardo, who remains face down on the ground, cradling his face and trying not to die as the volume of the fans and the rattling of the ring overhead only seems to make his headache worse. When the bell rings, he grits his teeth against the pain, breathing out when Alberto arrives, his boots appearing in the corner of Ricardo's vision before a warm hand rests on his neck, the other cupping his face and drawing him upwards, worried brown eyes peering into his face. "Mi hermano! Are you alright?" he demands, brow furrowed.
"Si," Ricardo mumbles. "Gimme a mic."
"What?" But he listens, finding the mic that Anderson had abandoned after his interrupted entrance, and hands it to Ricardo. Refusing to allow the usual ring announcer to do his job, Ricardo cuts him off and announces Alberto the winner, gritting his teeth against the pain as he holds the consonants of Alberto's name for as long as he can. He's sweaty and feeling a little ill once he finishes but it was worth it to see the look on Ken and Alberto's faces both once he puts the mic down and struggles to catch his breath, Alberto laughing and hugging him carefully. "Come, mi hermano," Alberto tells him, leading him up the ramp. "Let's get you looked at, and find some aspirin for your headache."
"Sounds nice," he sighs. They're still sitting in the trainer's office, cooling down and waiting for Ricardo's headache to ease so they can leave, when there's a knock on the door.
Ricardo grunts, his eyes barely opened, when Ken Anderson peeks in. "Mind if I come in?"
Alberto looks like he's about to stop Anderson but Ricardo shakes his head. "Sure, why not."
Anderson glances at Alberto before slipping inside, settling down next to Ricardo and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Didn't mean for you to get your bell rung out there, man. You alright?"
"Yeah, just a headache." Ricardo glances at him. "It's fine." Anderson seems sincere enough so he decides not to prolong the other man's misery. He's had worse, after all. "I just needed to give Alberto a minute to get to his feet."
"I had a minor quad injury a couple weeks ago and some people are quite protective still," Alberto picks up Ricardo's story with a fond little smile as he stares at Ricardo.
"Ah, so you weren't sincere about that announcing rematch," Anderson deduces. "Too bad, I was kinda looking forward to it." He sits back with a laugh and claps Ricardo on the shoulder. "Ya know, you should meet up with Rockstar Spud at some point, you two would get along great, I think."
"He works for TNA, right?"
"Yeah. And he's got an Alberto of his own," Ken says, poking a thumb towards Del Rio, who blinks in some surprise. "Except things haven't been going so well for him currently." Anderson smiles wanly. "Not that you'd know it, the little guy doesn't let much get him down."
"Sounds familiar," Alberto sighs, raising his eyebrows when Ricardo peeks over at him. "How are you feeling, mi hermano?"
"Better," he says, realizing that he means it. Somehow, through the course of their conversation with Ken, his headache had abated. He smiles and nudges Alberto. "Can we leave now?"
"Si, I suppose so," he agrees. "Onwards to Perth, mi amigo."
They visit kangaroos and koalos and whatever else in Perth, Alberto laughing and helping Ricardo to feed some of the animals, their fur bristly but comforting under their fingers. Things with WWE were always so busy, they never had much time for actual sightseeing. That night, Ricardo competes with a Bollywood wrestler in a multi-team tag match for an opportunity at the tag titles, but loses. Alberto wins his match but either outcome matters little afterwards.
The group of wrestlers sit somberly in the hotel bar, talking some here and there, but mostly keeping each other company. No matter who's feuding with who, or who outright hates the others, wrestlers are a bit like a brotherhood and what could happen to one could happen to any of them at any time. As the hours pass, their numbers diminish. Shortly after Anderson leaves, Drew claps Alberto, then Ricardo on the shoulders, and heads upstairs for a couple of hours of sleep. Ricardo shifts his drink around on its napkin, the sweaty glass soothing against his palm, until finally Alberto leans closer. "Mi hermano, let's go to our room. You look exhausted."
"You do too, El Patron," he intones, the two of them taking a minute to figure out Australian currency enough to pay before they take their leave.
The elevator ride up is quiet, Alberto watching absently as Ricardo unlocks the hotel door. Once they're inside, Alberto lightly pushes Ricardo towards the bathroom. "Go ahead, Ricardo." He waits until Ricardo finishes getting ready for bed, coming out in his favorite black tank top and shorts, before taking his turn. Once done, he runs his fingers through his hair and walks out into the main room, yawning lazily. Ricardo's sitting up in bed and their eyes lock, Alberto heading over to his bed, relieved that he's still awake. "Mi amigo?"
"Si?"
"Can we pray?" It's a vulnerable question, one that he had only asked Ricardo before his Wrestlemania Heavyweight title match against Swagger when he had been unsure about his ability to get revenge for Ricardo's broken ankle.
"Of course," Ricardo agrees quietly, holding his hand out to him. Alberto smiles faintly, linking their fingers together. Ricardo watches him as he bows his head, murmuring in Spanish so lowly that his words are barely audible even to Ricardo's ears.
Alberto's lost in heavy thoughts and bittersweet recollections when Ricardo's fingers go slack in his hand. He ceases murmuring and looks up, realizing that Ricardo's fallen asleep. He watches him for a moment before leaning forward, adjusting the sheets around him so he's tucked in more comfortably. "This business is a little scary sometimes, isn't it?" He sighs, hands stilling against the soft fabric under Ricardo's chin. Leaning closer, he kisses his forehead. "I love you, mi hermanito. Buenas noches."
