A/N: I'm putting BtB on hiatus for a couple weeks after this chapter. When I start writing it again, I'll catch up on the weeks that I miss. No worries, chapters will still be posted for the weeks spent on hiatus, just a whee bit late. :D

It's been a long few days. Matches on both Smackdown and Elimination Chamber. Mike hasn't been put into a match and he's pretty relieved at the prospect of an off night- come out for a bit, address what Rock said the past week, talk about his main eventing Wrestlemania, and anything else that comes to mind, then go relax in his locker room and watch as the show struggles on without him- but of course, it doesn't go as planned. The Email GM has other ideas and places him in a tag team match with John Cena against the Corre for the tag belts.

Even Alex seems to know how serious this is and remains quiet as they walk through the hallways, Mike's glower at everyone passing by keeping them from speaking or even looking at him for very long. They're almost at Miz's locker room when Alex blinks and he's gone. Startled, the younger man looks around for his protege before spotting him standing next to John Morrison, the anger on his face growing. Riley is glad that look isn't aimed at him.

"Sit down before you fall down, idiot," Mike is growling as Alex joins them, pushing a heavily limping Morrison over to a trunk. "Where the hell's the referee or... anyone?" he demands once John is safely settled, looking around.

"I told him I could make it on my own," the stubborn man explains, his face lined in pain as he breathes through his nose, hands clenched at his sides. "Heard about your tag match," he attempts to change the subject, lips twitching slightly as he looks up, relieved that his eyes have, actually, slowly gotten better so he can see the murderous look on Mike's face. "Teaming with Cena, lucky you. Email GM must like you as a tag champion."

"Shut up," the WWE champion grumbles, kicking fruitlessly at the trunk.

Morrison actually chuckles, his face smoothing briefly as he smirks over at his former tag partner. "I know what your problem is... He's making you team with the wrong John, huh?"

Mike groans, choosing not to justify him with an answer. "Think you can make it to the trainer's office on your own now? Some of us have real championships to focus on." He turns in time that only Alex catches the flash of aggravation and bitterness on Morrison's face before he shifts his knee to stand, the pain caused by the motion wiping out every other emotion on his face. The rookie hesitates for a split second before turning on his heel and following Miz the rest of the way to his locker room.

Around an hour after the initial announcement, Mike stands in the ring with Cena, staring down Heath Slater and Justin Gabriel. He doesn't even look twice at Cena, breathing steadily as he shakes his wrists out, loosening up a little more before the match begins. It doesn't take too long for him to get the advantage and keep it, refusing to tag Cena in more than neccessary- his whole career up to this point, he's felt like he has something to prove and this is no difference as he keeps Slater and Gabriel down as much as he can. When he hits the Skull Crushing Finale on Heath and wins yet another tag title, he can't help but feel a bit vindicated. Ordering Cena around to mirror his pose with the tag belts- the obvious exception being that Cena only has one belt to hold, of course- is just the icing on the very delicious cake that this is.

He doesn't want these belts anymore than he wants to look at Cena's face ever again so when he watches Corre freaking out on the outside of the ring, he can't help but be humored. Slater is yelling for help from Barrett and it's only a matter of time before something gives- and give it does. Barrett demands they have their rematch right now, and the Anon GM accepts. Miz smirks. For once, the GM does something I wanted him to do.

It takes awhile- Miz lets Cena in the ring more often this go around, waiting for an opportunity, a distracton, Cena to not be looking... anything. It comes when Mike gets knocked almost clear out of the ring. He's laying on the apron, trying to catch his breath, when he sees Cena prepare to set Slater up in the Attitude Adjustment. Here's his chance but the four matches he's wrestled in four days now and all of the abuse he's taken has left him tired, sluggish. He closes his eyes briefly and... "...the wrong John, huh?" His eyes snap open as he remembers Morrison's mocking words, shaking his head to clear his mind. The memory is enough as he somehow manages to make it to his feet and lunges for Cena, hitting an awkward Skull Crushing Finale on his blessedly temporary tag team partner. He can't help but laugh as Slater collects himself and pins Cena, taking away Miz's tag titles almost as quickly as he had won them.

He's lighter this time around as he makes his way down the various hallways to his private locker room, smugness bleeding from his very pores. He doesn't even falter when he comes across John Morrison still sitting on the trunk that he had left him on, tentatively shifting his leg around. "Have you moved at all since earlier?" he asks, rolling his eyes.

"Of course I have," Morrison mumbles, smirking slightly as Miz settles next to him, thoughtfully running a hand over his remaining title belt. "I see you weren't thrilled with being co-champion with Cena."

"What, would you have been if it had happened to you?" he demands, raising an eyebrow.

"No, not really."

Mike leans his head back, staring up at the shadowy ceiling over their heads. After a few moments of strained silence, he sighs, uncomfortable words crawling to escape from his thoughts, become real. The sensation makes him twitchy. "You weren't wrong," he finally manages to say- the closest he can come to admitting it at all, that for a split second when he was listening to the Email GM's order, he thought perhaps there was going to be "Morrison" after that John, and it hadn't felt necessarily bad. Then Cena's name had been said instead and the slight, incomprehensible bit of hope lingering within him had disappeared along with his wish for a relaxing night. "Come on, A-Ri," he mutters after a second, pushing himself off of the trunk.

After they disappear from his sight, Morrison leans his head back against the cool wall, his eyes slipping closed. "I know."