A/N: We are now off of hiatus! Back to your regularly scheduled programming... As of this chapter, Miz is still US champion. I never really had him lose it. Since Back to Basics tries to stay true to what WWE does, when WWE seemingly forgot about the US title for a few months... in a way, I did too.

February 28th, 2011

To:

From: [Unknown]

Notify John Morrison- he doesn't have a match scheduled, I'm giving him the night off. If he refuses to leave the arena, kindly escort him off of the premises.

Mike "The Miz" Mizanin rolls his eyes as he watches the latest recap of Rock and Cena's tired back and forth on one of the many backstage monitors cluttering the hallways further. "It's like they've forgotten who the champion is," he grouses, not even needing to look to know that Alex Riley is nearby, hanging on his every word.

"You should remind them then," the rookie suggests, a knowing smirk on his face as Miz stares intensely at the monitor. In the half-lit hallway, the screen's glow off of his title belt is almost creepy.

"Oh, I will," he mumbles, his brain already working at double speed to think up the best way to go about it, something controversial that'll get everyone talking for weeks to come, something special leading up to Wrestlemania.

He's so busy thinking about what to do, how to spend the next few weeks reminding people Cena isn't facing Rock at Wrestlemania, oh no, far from it, that it's not until he's back in his locker room, preparing to go out to the ring and address the Rock and Cena and everything else that comes to mind that the small whisper in the back of his mind that he's been ignoring for awhile now becomes a little louder, a lot more persistent. It takes a couple of moments before he realizes why. Something's missing.

World title, check. Carefully selected suit for tonight, check. Protege, check. Silver briefcase, check. Duffel bag, keys, outrageously expensive designer sunglasses, wallet, check, check, check, check. He frowns and picks at his sleeves, a rare nervous habit.

"Something wrong?" Alex asks, watching him worriedly.

"Feel like I'm missing something, but can't figure out what..." he mutters, going back over his quick check off list. Troubled blue eyes peer around the room as he tries to think about something he forgot to do or bring. "Dammit, this is going to bother me all night long."

Alex smiles bemusedly as they finally head to the ring, a weird feeling shuddering down the rookie's spine. He's about to say something to Miz when the world champion skids to a stop, his gaze locked on the outfit designer down the hall who's fastening sequins to one of the diva's shirts.

"I got it!" he exclaims, shaking his head in disbelief at not figuring it out sooner. "Where the hell has Morrison been tonight? He usually bugs me at least once by now."

It's just luck that a passing tech overhears and pauses midstep. "John Morrison? I overheard Cole talking about it, the anonymous GM gave him the night off."

Miz gapes after the man, who slowly slinks away, a bit unnerved by the WWE Champion's wide-eyed stare. "What the hell?" he finally manages, a grimace on his face. "Great, sounds like the anonymous GM is back to screwing with everything." To almost anyone else in any other profession, a night off would probably sound like heaven but to guys like John Morrison- who seem to breathe competition-, it's tantamount to torture.

Alex watches quietly, that slight, niggling feeling still there, making him want to say something but unable to, in case Miz should realize he's really nothing more than an uncertain rookie still trying to fit in with the big boys. Finally he shrugs the sensation away and opens his mouth. Instead of saying what he wants to, he manages, "As long as the GM only messes with Morrison, right?" Miz doesn't look pleased with this, in fact he looks madder than he did just moments earlier, and Alex immediately clamps his mouth shut, that uncomfortable squirming feeling spreading through his veins.

"Hardly. We're former tag partners, it's enough that if the GM is messing with him, it's only a matter of time before he starts going after me again too. I knew the last few months of him leaving me alone was too good to be true- Wrestlemania is coming closer so he's back to being a nuance." His frown deepens as Alex watches him carefully, worried to say something wrong again. "But I'll handle it. It'll be fine."

It's not until they're in the ring and Miz suggests that Alex wrestle Cena- Alex's career on the line- that the almost nauseous feeling returns to him with a vengeance, his vision swimming slightly as the Anonymous GM's sounder goes off and he puts the match in a steel cage. There's no way, he thinks with a sinking feeling as if he'd just dropped off of a cliff and had no choice but to stare down at the ground coming up too quickly to swallow him whole. He doesn't blame Miz, not really. The man has bigger things to worry about than his protege's career but still it bothers him that he can be thrown under the bus so easily on the off chance that Cena will lose and declare Miz the best champion ever. This is the GM's doing. Whenever he gets involved, Miz gets careless and desperate to prove himself...

Miz, on the other hand, is the prime example of confidence as he claps Alex on the back once they get back to the locker room. "It'll be fine. You'll see."

But it's not, and Alex knows it. He's lacking in experience and confidence, which is a bad combination when going against someone like Cena. His worries distract him so he only half-watches as Miz attacks Daniel Bryan before his match, shoving his face into the barricade wall and yelling at him. Why exactly, Alex doesn't know but it gives him less time to wait before he has to come out to face Cena.

Miz finally throws Daniel away from him, a pleased sneer on his face as he stands tall over his twitching body. "You'll never be what I am. US champion, WWE champion, the most watched..." he pauses to kick the man in the ribs once more, "champion of all time... NONE OF IT, you understand me?"

Alex watches blankly as referees ease a beaten down Daniel to the back, Miz not even bothering to come back for him. Instead, his mentor settles down at the commentary table and he takes a deep breath, hands sweaty and shaking. It's time.

In the end, even Miz's help isn't enough as Cena overwhelms Alex and ultimately defeats him. As the cage is slowly lifted around him, Alex stares blankly ahead, his body throbbing in time with each heartbeat. Mike didn't even wait. He can't help but think maybe it's a good thing- after all, the last time anything remotely close to this happened, Miz didn't hesitate to kick his tag partner in the stomach and hit him with a Reality Check. His hand clenches into a fist as he struggles not to lose it in front of the audience members still clustered around, jeering and mocking him. His dream is gone, his career is over. He'll never wrestle in this ring again.

With a heavy sigh, he pulls himself off of the ring apron and slowly makes his way up the ramp. Despite not liking the man, he can't help but wonder how Morrison felt the night of the draft in 2009, having to leave the ring after Miz's betrayal. This... this is on a different level but he can't help comparing the two situations. Whereas Miz has only been his mentor for a few months, he and Morrison had partnered for years at the time of Miz's attack. Who knows, if I had been around him for longer, maybe he would've gone that extra mile. Maybe he would've stayed.

He keeps his eyes cast down on the ground as he makes his way towards the exit, not even bothering to get his duffel or figure out a way to leave here. It's New York, public transportation isn't that hard to find, after all.

His hand is on the door when he hears footsteps behind him. Even with his back to them, he recognizes the sound, closes his eyes in anticipation of what'll happen next.

"Alex? What are you doing?" The confusion in Miz's voice cuts through Alex like a knife and he freezes, his very skin feeling brittle. Breakable. "Alex? Did you hear me?" His mentor- former mentor- drops a hand on his shoulder and Alex spins around, staring at him. The emotionless gaze that's drilling into him causes him to step back, jaw dropping slightly. "Alex-"

"You left," he says dully, hating himself for sounding so pathetic in those two small words. But he's unable to stop with just them. "You put my career on the line, after everything I've tried to do for you these last few months, I lost and got fired and I looked up thinking maybe you'd at least stick around long enough to ask if I was ok, and you were gone. You did what you had to do and you left. Like me getting fired was no big thing. What was the point of all this?" He finally stops, drained verbally and emotionally, peering into Miz's face as he tries to catch his breath.

Miz looks frozen now, his eyes icy and cold as he stares at the younger man. "Did you honestly think," he says softly- for a moment Alex wonders if he's gone too far, if maybe now Miz will attack just because of his own stupid mouth- "that I put you in that position without a Plan B? I thought you trusted me more than that, Alex. This ... is far from over." He holds out Alex's dark blue duffel bag, his face softening slightly. "Trust me?"

"Y-Yeah," he mumbles. "Of course." He thinks he should apologize, should say something else but all he can manage is to grab his bag and hold it closely, feeling the wrestling gear and plain clothes through the rough canvas.

"Get ready to leave," Miz commands, some of the volume returning to his voice. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Sure." As Miz walks off, Alex takes one quick look at the arena. Despite his mentor's words, despite Alex's faith in his sincerity, this still feels like the end of a chapter of his life. He sighs heavily and heads out to the parking area