Alberto's morose ponderings throughout the weekend are answered quickly that Monday, as he enters the Seattle arena to find he has a rematch against Sin Cara. He stares at the match board, lips twisted in an angry sneer, before entering the locker room where he throws his bag into a corner and quickly gets ready for the match, not wanting to lose focus or determination while he ponders all of the different ways he would weaken the other Mexican, leave him thrashing in agony in the middle of the ring. It makes him smirk as he heads for the ring, nothing to deter him tonight. Not even the fact that the World title, his World title, will be seen for the last time tonight before it's rebranded into the Unified championship this Sunday at TLC.

And he does hold the advantage for a short while, but Sin Cara quickly fights back into prominence and leaves Del Rio floundering, the taller Mexican landing badly on a sunset flip powerbomb off of the top rope. He knows as soon as he hit the mat that things aren't right- he's disoriented, barely able to stand, but he struggles through the rest of the match, ignoring the referee. No matter what he attempts through the fog he finds himself in, he yet again loses to the other man, staring blankly up at the oddly colored ceiling. The trainer is on him immediately, not liking the dazed look in his eye and talking briskly with him as he quickly determines that he has a concussion. Even that won't keep Alberto from the ring to get one last look at his World title before the unification match this Sunday, and so he makes his way back to the gorilla after dressing in the tux he had brought just for this, fully intending on looking the role of sophisticated Mexican royalty, no matter how much the lights and crowd will make his head pound all the more.

His balance is bad and impossible to straighten out, his lips unbearably dry as he walks toward the gorilla position, squinting around as the lights grow more and more bothersome. He grunts as his step wavers yet again, sending him right into someone, who pushes him off cruelly, only just able to focus enough to realize that it's Miz, the man's blue eyes flashing at him as he snaps at him, demanding what his problem is. Alberto shakes his head at his luck before struggling out, "Conmocion," unsure if Mike will even know what that means, but apparently he does as realization dawns and the other man reaches out for him, his attempts at helping denied as Del Rio backs away. "Off of me, Perro!" His own voice adds to his pain, however, and he digs his fingers into his temples, not sure how he'll be able to handle the scene in the ring shortly, but knowing that he has to, for closure, just to say goodbye to the belt that he'd inspired to make his since before he had joined the WWE.

Once they make it to the ring, finally, he stands by blankly as the Authority talks, his headache only adding to his disinterest in what they're saying. He can feel Mike's eyes on him from across the ring but he doesn't care, staring up at the contraption that will hold both title belts over the ring this Sunday, awaiting its champion to come and collect. He aches, wishes it could be him, that he could once more be in ownership of the belt that had meant so much to him the last three years. When Orton and Cena's insults turn physical, he's so distracted by these thoughts that it takes him awhile to act, halfheartedly trying to keep the men apart with the rest of the competitors in the ring.

However, things devolve even further and when Stephanie McMahon is knocked down, everyone who can leaves the ring, not wanting to get caught up in the drama surrounding the Authority, Orton and Cena. He's just walked past gorilla when Miz joins him. "You're coming with me," he declares, not paying any mind when Alberto all but laughs in his face.

"Que?" he demands, realizing quickly that Mike is serious, repeating himself before adding that Alberto doesn't need to be alone tonight. He feels a surge of anger towards the man, wanting to scream at him, but... "Why would you bother? We hate each other," he says instead, something in Miz's face stopping him from letting out all of his rage on the other man. When Mike mentions Ricardo's actions when Del Rio was sick a few weeks ago in England, that breaks Alberto's remaining disdain at the thought and he doesn't even fight as his bag is sweeped up by Mike. "Ricardo always was too kindhearted for his own good," he mutters, troubled.

Mike shrugs it off and yet again orders Alberto to move, the two men walking slowly side by side to AJ Lee's locker room, where she stares at him in some confusion as Mike explains to her what's going on, Del Rio standing awkwardly by, leaning against the wall when his balance sways yet again. Finally they leave and Alberto finds himself in the backseat of Mike's rental car, Tamina Snuka staring at him suspiciously as they drive to the hotel. He does not like this at all.

But he's so exhausted and out of it that even Miz's obnoxiously loud voice is little more than a muffled mutter to him as he sinks into the second bed once they arrive, relieved just to have somewhere to stretch out and get some rest. "We'll be waking you up sometimes just to make sure your brain hasn't melted overnight," Mike tells him while standing nearby, setting his cell phone alarm clock. "Don't kill any of us."

"Sin promesas," he mutters, eyes fluttering closed despite his certainty that he wouldn't get any decent sleep with Miz and his little girlfriend and the enforcer all surrounding him in this relatively small room. But he does...

Until he feels a soft, warm hand on the side of his face and he grunts, leaning into the familiar touch. "Ricardo," he mutters, smirking through the haze surrounding him as his best friend pulls him closer and presses his face against Alberto's hair.

"El Patron, it's ok now, I've got you," he whispers to him. Alberto blinks awake and stares at what he can see of his best friend through the darkness. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, mi amigo," he mutters through dry lips. "But I thought you were stranded in Washington DC, how are you here?"

"Caught a late flight," he shrugs. "I missed Raw but when I heard you were hurt, I had to be here..."

Alberto smiles, for what feels like the first time in a long time. "Gracias, mi amigo. What would I do without you?"

"You tell me, El Patron," he says quietly, something niggling at Alberto but he valiantly ignores it as Ricardo rests against him and strokes his forehead, like he used to when Alberto had a headache and couldn't sleep. He forgets all of the stress weighing on him when the ring announcer begins to hum Christmas tunes softly, soothing the Mexican aristocrat further.

But the moment is ruined when a shrill alarm sounds, startling Del Rio awake, his dark eyes darting around in confusion as he realizes that his best friend is nowhere to be found, Mike fumbling on the other bed to shut the cell phone up as AJ whines next to him, Alberto's face falling as he realizes.

It had just been a dream.

After the IMPACT tests that morning, which he passes and is cleared for competition, he leaves with Mike and they go to the airport for the annual visit to a base which will be host to Tribute to the Troops in a couple of weeks. Neither talk, which is fine with him, bits and pieces of his dream still fresh in his mind, Alberto wanting nothing more than to cling to the wispy memories of his best friend's voice, his soothing touch. He selfishly wants those days back, remembering last year almost to the day when he'd finally begun trying to prove just what Ricardo had meant to him as a friend. It hadn't lasted long enough, his actions in the months to follow last year's TLC PPV hadn't made up for what came before, or what he had done after, and he hates himself for it.

After visiting the troops, he travels on to Portland for Smackdown, spending the next couple of days wondering if Ricardo had gotten away from all of the delayed flights Mike had mentioned to arrive in the city, though he can't bring himself to search the younger man out. Not after the week he's had, still trying to psych himself up for the last event that the World title will be contested for this Sunday before it is absorbed into the unified title. He grimaces upon arriving at the arena that Friday and finding a rematch listed for him against Kofi. Sin Cara on Mondays, Kofi Kingston on Fridays, he thinks. Will I ever get away from the repetition? He tires of it, all of it. He has no interest in the event as it carries on around him, and he doesn't want to listen to the general stupidity in the main locker room so he goes for a short walk around the arena, stopping short when he realizes an interview is being held not that far away from the champions' locker rooms.

He's about to roll his eyes and walk the other way, not wanting to get broadcast by mistake and yelled at by the cameramen or crew, when... A familiar voice speaking Spanish brings him to a harsh stop, his shoes squeeching against the tiles as he rapidly twists back around, gaping. Ricardo is standing with a microphone in hand, speaking into the camera with a small smile on his face. Alberto watches, frozen, as Sin Cara approaches, talking with his former ring announcer and Alberto swallows, closing his eyes as he angrily turns away. He won't do anything to the man who brought him two losses in a week, he has that ridiculous rematch to focus on, and besides... his best friend is right there. He won't ruin his opportunity, not after everything he'd been through. So he heads for the ring, relieved that his match is soon. He needs the distraction.

Except that Mike ruins it. Kofi's still outside of the ring, doing his pointless entrance, when Miz runs down and grabs his opponent, hitting the Skullcrushing Finale against the floor, ending the match before it could even start. Del Rio stares on in disgust before he leaves the ring, chasing after Mike. He catches up to him quickly, gripping his arm and twisting him around. "What was that, perro? What made you think I needed your help?!"

He's so angry that when Mike volleys back, reminding him of the immediate aftermath of his match against Sin Cara, insulting him further to a degree that he's not sure if Miz is still speaking of the concussion or of what he'd done to Ricardo- perhaps both- that all it takes is Mike pushing him to the point that he staggers, the damn headrush returning as he glowers down at him. "Shut up, idiot, you know nothing-" he's just screamed, getting in the other man's face, when something beeps loudly and they both jerk, surprised to find that it's coming from Mike's cell phone clenched in the hand currently pointing angrily at Del Rio... which allows the Mexican aristocrat to see the screen well enough to read the first couple of lines of the tweet alert, swallowing harshly when he sees that it's from Ricardo.

Mike reads all it quickly before holding it up in front of Alberto's face, allowing him to skim the rest of the lines as well, and he swallows, reading some of the words out loud, a small, pained smile twitching at his lips. "Mi amigo," he whispers, Mike's words following this barely registering with him as he stares at his friend's first tweet mentioning him that doesn't seem completely fueled by anger or sadness in he's not sure how long.

Until... "Tell him the truth. Don't you think he deserves that much?" Alberto stares down at Mike for a moment before turning and leaving, not sure what to do. Or if he could do anything to fix this whole mess of a situation he's put them all in. Either way, the last thing he needs or wants right now is Miz's smug suggestions...