AN: Sorry for the delay, I'm a slacker with a bad memory. It's a horrible combination. Chapter 45 will be up tonight or tomorrow!

Email from: [Unknown]

To:andiquote at wwe dot com

Notify Miz that if he lays a hand on R Truth, he forfeits his title opportunity this Sunday.

After a long, tiresome Mexican tour, Miz is glad to be back in Texas, the promise of a small period of downtime lurking just out of his reach after the evening's Raw, to last until traveling to Over the Limit. He runs his fingers through his hair, grimacing as he ponders over the past few days. He knows he should be keeping his focus on regaining the title belt this coming Sunday but with everything going on, it's near impossible.

"Miz? You ok?" Alex asks after a few minutes of watching Miz staring blankly ahead.

"Huh?" his mentor mumbles, looking up. After blinking a few times, his eyes refocus as he shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"About?" he asks quietly though he's pretty sure he already knows.

"Everything," he replies after a strained moment. As he looks away, fiddling with his ring gear, Alex stares on sympathetically, unable to think of anything to do or say to make things easier.

Cena, of course, kicks off Raw, and Miz nor Alex can pass up the opportunity to interrupt and annoy him. How exactly it ends with the Anonymous GM cutting in just to give Miz free reign with Cena's match and opponent, neither are sure. "I don't like this," Miz mutters as they trudge back up to the gorilla position. "It's just too easy. Especially after what the GM decided about R Truth. Why do this now?"

Despite their own suspicions, Miz spends the next hour and a half going from wrestler to wrestler, talking to them about taking Cena out and why it would be to their advantage: mostly, the fact that Miz is a fighting champion, and Cena the thorn in most of their sides. He purposely avoids R Truth, desperation to lay the annoying man out warring with his equally desperate need to regain his title this Sunday- a feat thus impossible if he forfeits his opportunity by going against the GM's edict.

He manages fairly well until close to match time, his decision already made, when he's leaning against a wall watching the techs and various other wrestlers and divas wandering around, decompressing a bit, when he hears, "I could take Cena easily, and that's the truth."

Biting back a muffled curse, he takes a deep breath and turns to face Truth, digging deep to hold onto his poker face as anger and bloodlust wars within him as he thinks about Melina's blog about Morrison post surgery. "Oh?" He curses himself for even leaving himself open for this kind of crap when Truth joins him, a maddening kind of smirk on his lips.

"Of course. You saw what I did to Mysterio..." His smirk grows as Miz stares at him blandly.

Don't you dare say-

"Not to mention Morrison. Cena would be on the shelf for months. Especially since he already has a neck injury- easy target, know what I'm talkin' about?"

Ignoring the rest of Truth's babbling, Miz takes a few deep breaths as he tries not to slam his newly formed fist into that smug, ugly face leering down at him. Relax, relax, he thinks desperately, his lips twisting as he pretends to listen to Truth arguing his happens to glance over in time to see the camera panned on them and shakes his head minisculely, wondering if Morrison is watching. Leaning closer, he keeps his voice low and face calm as he cuts off what Truth's saying, not wanting to garner the Anon GM's notice. "You listen to me. I wouldn't pick you if you were the last guy on the roster, ok? Hell, I'd pick Hornswoggle before you."

"What's wrong with you, man?" Truth demands, his face twisting angrily as Miz looks over once more and notices the cameraman now walking away for something else to film for the show. "We're on the same-"

"If you say we're on the same side, I'm gonna do what I've been wanting to do for weeks now," Mike warns, his icy blue eyes flashing as Truth slowly backs away, mumbling randomly to himself. "Get out of here! Now!"

His mumbles growing more desperate and loud, the deranged man lunges down the hall, almost knocking Riley over as he blasts past him.

"What happened?" Alex wonders, frowning as he looks back and forth between Miz and the still retreating Truth, his rants to himself still echoing down to where they stand. "I saw you two talking on the monitor and thought I'd better try to defuse the situation... but you didn't touch him?"

"God, I wanted to," Miz mumbles, his eyes tracking Truth's path too. "So badly. But Morrison did tell me to leave Truth to him, and he would be pissed at me if I gave up Sunday for something he wants to do himself. Sucks, though."

Nodding, Alex looks up as Swagger joins them, an intense, angry look in his eyes due to what Cole said about him.

"You ready?" Miz asks, eyeing him too. They pretty much all know there's little chance Swagger might actually be able to take Cena but any damage is better than none this close to an I Quit match.

"Yes," Swagger says simply, his dark gaze turning towards a monitor showing the ring as Cena heads out for their match.

Miz nods and heads out, Alex at his side, to announce the match type- No Holds Barred- and his opponent, but before he can, Swagger rushes out and lays into Cena. He's stuck between being annoyed at the second interruption of the night and appreciating Swagger's gumption at bringing the fight with no warning.

Despite his obvious rage towards Cole fueling all the offense he does get off in the match, it isn't enough and Cena regains the advantage and defeats Swagger. Not willing for things to be done like that, Miz heads for the ring, vocalizing his thoughts about all the different ways to make Cena quit- his favorite coming to fruition as Alex digs under the ring and comes up with a steel pipe. The cool cylinder shaped weapon feels good in his hands, great even, but even after he slams Cena with it, it seems to barely do anything as the WWE champion lunges back to his feet only moments later and takes Riley out before Miz can even comprehend anything, using the pipe on the younger man as Miz rushes out of the ring before he too can be struck. Son of a bitch...! Mike thinks, eyes wide as he retreats up the ramp. What the hell needs to be done...?

Cena leaves off as Miz makes it to the top of the ramp, his gaze tracking Mike's progress as they glare at each other from many feet away. When Alex rolls out of the ring, the former champion sighs in relief, rejoining his protege as he stumbles up to the ramp, obviously in pain from the attack. Unlike some people, Miz thinks, glancing back over at an uneffected Cena once more before dragging Alex's arm over his shoulders. "Come on," he grunts, leading the limping man the rest of the way to the relative safety of the locker room areas. "Sit down," he orders, pushing him down onto the nearest folding chair. "How do you feel? Think you need to see a trainer?"

Alex takes a few deep breaths, his eyes closed tightly in pain as he slumps in the uncomfortable chair. "I don't know."

"What hurts? Maybe I should bring the trainer to you..." he frets, looking up briefly before Riley tugging on his sleeve turns his attention back.

"No, no, I think- just give me a minute," he whispers, releasing a loud breath through his nose. Shifting, he tenses up slightly as he presses around his abdomen where the pipe had struck him, carefully checking his ribs.

"What do you think?"

"Sore... but I don't think broken," he manages, moving his hands gingerly. He glances around tiredly, looking for Cena, before glancing back at Mike. "Let's just go. Alright? There's nothing the trainer could do for a broken rib anyway. I just... I just wanna leave."

It's hard to come to a decision but Alex sounds and looks so young in the moment, dependent on Mike to get him back to the hotel and away from the multitude of weapons laying around, the various enemies they both have gained over the months, that he nods and, supporting Alex with a hand under his arm, helps him up from the chair. He pauses for a moment, remembering helping Morrison in a similar fashion only a couple weeks previous. And look how that turned out, he thinks before shaking himself mentally. "Let's just get our stuff and we're out of here," he says, relieved at the decision as well now that he's verbalized it.

"Thanks."

As if he needs to thank me, Miz can't help but think as he watches Alex support his probably bruised midsection as he walks down the hallway to the locker rooms. "Hey, you're not doing Smackdown this week, are you?" he asks slowly, uncertainly.

"I'm not sure. Why?" Riley wonders, relieved at the distraction as they continue walking.

"Come back to LA with me. We'll drop in and annoy Morrison before the PPV," he suggests with a smirk. "Then you can see me throw the first pitch at the Dodgers' game Wednesday." His smirk grows into chuckles as he catches the look on Alex's face at that suggestion.

"Shhh," Miz hisses as they lurk outside of the apartment doorway, raising his eyebrows as Alex looks around worriedly. "I swear to God, A-Ri..."

"Hey, I can't help that that squirrel chased me all the way to the stairs," he defends himself, making a face. "Ricardo Rodriguez wasn't kidding when he said California was full of squirrels... damn things." Turning his attention back to the door, he shrugs. "So what're we going to do? Knock?"

"John didn't answer his phone," Mike mumbles with a disgruntled glare at the large number plate mocking him from the wall next to the apartment. "But we don't have to knock." Riley had been busy having a stare off with the latest squirrel seemingly determined to annoy him so Miz had gone on ahead, wanting to keep the fact he had a key a secret a little longer. By the time Riley had made it to the complex, the main door had been open and Mike glared at him as he held it open, relieved to not have to ring the annoyingly loud buzzer to gain entrance, Morrison's apartment key working for both doors.

"What do you mean? ... Are you going to pick the lock?" he asks, eyes wide as Miz digs around in his jeans pocket.

"... Say it a little louder, why don't you, Alex? God," he mumbles, thankful that the hallway is devoid of wandering, suspicious neighbors as he pulls out the key and waves it in front of Alex's nose, making him go crosseyed as he attempts to focus on it. "Morrison gave this to me," he manages to explain before it could be suggested that he stole it or something equally ridiculous. "Figured I may as well put it to good use." He brushes past Alex, quickly unlocking the door as he feels uncomfortable lurking around this strange hallway. As he pushes it open, he notes out of the corner of his eye A-Ri gingerly rubbing his still tender midsection once more and he softens slightly, stepping to the side. "Go on."

Blinking in surprise, Alex enters first, taking in the soft lighting of Morrison's apartment reflecting off of scattered decorations and pictures. He turns uncertainly, obviously feeling out of his element. The difference between his attitude here and at Miz's own home is startling as he stands tensely, not wanting to take a step out of bounds.

Miz sighs and shakes his head at his NXT Rookie's still randomly occuring lack of confidence. "Go put those in the fridge," he urges, pointing to the bag in Alex's hand that had thankfully made it out of the latest squirrel-war untouched. "Kitchen is just to the right," he points. "I'm going to look for Morrison."

"Alright," Alex says, a little less tense now that he has a mission.

Miz watches for a moment before continuing on to the living room, amazed that after two years of only being in the apartment a time or two, he still knows the way to each room like second nature. Freezing in the doorway, he stifles a small chuckle before entering completely, his eyebrows raising as he takes in John sitting up on the couch, fast asleep with throw pillows supporting his back. He sobers when he realizes the awkward looking position more than likely is John's attempt at keeping some pressure off of his incision as he tries to grab some sleep, and walks quietly over to the couch, sitting down on the coffee table in front of him. He glances at the sleeping Morrison with a strained frown before staring down at his hands, trying not to disturb the man.

It's minor, the trainer tells them. Some rest, a few days not spent in the wrestling ring or training and he should be perfectly fine. Morrison hates not being able to do his parkour thing while his sprained ankle regains its strength before the weekend events but the trainer and Miz both insists, Miz's feedback having more sway as they travel together and happen to live in the same city, so it's hard to avoid him no matter what Morrison does or where he goes.

Miz is only pushy when it comes to injuries and abiding by the trainer's warnings because he had watched John's face go pale as his leg gave out beneath him during his attempt to leave the ring, remembers the worry in his eyes reflecting with the pain in his co-tag team champion's as he attempts to help him, so if he hovers a little afterwards... well, that's not his fault, John had honestly scared him and he's not used to feeling that way- especially because of someone else, in this business.

Morrison blinks awake, a vaguely unsettled look on his face before his eyes focus on Miz. "What the hell, man?" he asks groggily. "You watching me sleep?"

"No!" Miz all but shouts, embarrassed. "Just thinking." If he had been staring while drowning in thoughts, well... who would know?

"Well, quit. You stare hard enough to wake the dead."

He smiles slightly, careful not to look at Morrison just in case history should repeat itself. He glances over as Alex all but tiptoes into the room, mindful of the sleeping man as he settles on the floor close to the table where Miz is sitting. "Find the fridge ok?"

A-Ri rolls his eyes before nodding. "Yeah, it's put away."

"Good." They sit in silence for a few more moments, John's soft, steady breathing the only noise in the room.

Alex fidgets, growing bored. "We staying long?" he finally whispers.

Miz bites down the temptation to facepalm, glancing over. "I want to talk to Morrison. If you wanna go to the car and brave the big bad squirrels all by yourself, feel free."

"Ah, no, I'm good here," the protege retracts quickly with a frenzied arm flap.

Before they can continue bickering, Morrison shifts and they hold their respective breaths as he releases a deep sigh, squinting through the sunlight streaming onto his face. "Am I having a nightmare?" he slurs sleepily, gazing at the two of them as they exchange glances.

"See what you did?" Miz hisses.

Alex's jaw drops. "What I did!'

"Yeah-"

"Oh, shut up," John groans, sitting up straighter as he swats the pillows out from behind him, grimacing uncomfortably as he settles gingerly back against the couch cushions. "What are you two doing in my apartment?"

Sobering, Miz turns to look at him, eyebrow raised. "We need to talk."

"I guessed," he comments, rubbing a hand slowly down his face. "You R Truth's new best friend now or something?"

The words dig into Mike in a way not much has in awhile, his face falling slightly before he catches himself. "Hell no!" Damn that camera, he thinks, dwelling again on how it must've looked. Most of the other competitors had taken to avoiding Truth like the plague since his descent into madness following Morrison taking the #1 contendership from him, so his being shown talking to the man must have had the gossipers in the back going insane.

"It's ok, you can hang out with whoever you want," he says blandly, leaning forward to ease pressure off of his neck once more. "I don't need an explanation."

"Truth cornered me!" he yells, desperate to make John listen to him. When he glances up, Miz takes a deep breath to calm down. "I avoided him all evening," he continues after a moment. "You can ask Alex. I had already made my decision but Truth came out of nowhere and started lobbying for why it should be him facing Cena while I waited for the right time to go announce Cena's opponent and match. It was all I could do to not punch him but if I did, I'd lose my shot this Sunday."

Morrison's mouth clacks shut at this as his half-formed words die away. "Wait, what?"

"The Anon GM is back at it," Alex explains quietly as Miz pulls his phone out and quickly looks through his emails for the correct one. As soon as it's found, he thrusts the phone at Morrison and watches his eyes darken as he reads Cole's missive to Mike about the GM's decision.

"Damn cowards," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I saw you talking to him and just assumed- it was stupid."

"Don't worry about it," Mike says, waving it off like an annoying fly. Morrison continues staring at the email, an intensity in his eyes that causes Miz to worry about the lifespan of his cell phone held tightly in John's grip. He quickly nudges Alex, who almost falls over.

"Oh," he stumbles, regaining his balance in time to scramble back to his feet. "Be right back."

John looks up at this and frowns suspiciously. "Where's he going?"

Miz smirks. "You'll see."

"That's not comforting at all."

"I know. Great, huh?" Mike laughs at the glare Morrison levels on him, both distracted as Alex returns, the shopping bag from before in hand. "Took you long enough."

Alex and John both roll their eyes at him before glancing at each other, startled. "Uhh, yeah," Morrison mumbles. "What do you have there?" he wonders, leaning forward slightly as Alex places the bag on the table next to Mike.

"Coconut milk," he explains with an awkward shrug. "We happened to walk by it at the store and it was on sale so I figured... why not."

His eyes brighten as he glances into the bag. "Ha, awesome." He pauses. "Don't say anything," he warns, cutting Miz off before he can open his mouth, not succeeding at killing the smirk covering his tanned face. "Anyway. Thanks, I was running a little low on this stuff." As Alex returns the items to the fridge, he looks at Mike, sobering slightly. "Saw Cena trash Riley yesterday. He doesn't look too bad off today, though."

"His ribs are a little sensitive," Miz hedges, shrugging. "Kid's getting good at just dealing, like all of us do."

"Yeah, as long as squirrels aren't chasing him, huh?"

"You heard that, huh?" Mike snorts, scrubbing at his face. "I've never seen anything like it. Good God..."

"How do you think Sunday will go?"

"Honestly? I don't know. When I hit a guy with a steel pipe and he somehow walks it off five seconds later, well..." He holds his hands together between his knees and shakes his head. "It doesn't look great." He looks up, spotting the barely hidden longing in Morrison's face. It has to suck, wanting it to be him going after Truth this Sunday, not Mysterio, so bad, but unable to do anything about it. Leaning forward, he nudges his knee softly. "How are you going to do on Sunday?"

Morrison swallows thickly, his gaze bouncing around the room for a moment before returning to Miz. "Honestly, I don't know. I can't even remember the last time I missed a pay-per-view." His voice lowers. "I hate it."

"I know you do," he murmurs, sympathizing with the man before him even though he's never been kept off of a pay per view due to an injury- knock on wood. "But you'll be back before you know it, Truth will be waiting for you- I'll make sure of it- and you'll put him on the injury list and all will be right with the world."

John chuckles, a bit of the forlornness fading from his gaze. "Thanks."

Nodding, Miz looks up, wondering where A-Ri's disappeared to. "Hey, Alex! Stop snooping. We're leaving." Not wanting to drag the visit out and tire Morrison out, or send it further into the sappy waters it was heading into, he stands up as Alex scrambles into the room, looking frazzled.

"I wasn't snooping! I was trying to find places in the fridge for all of the coconut milk so I could get rid of the bag-"

"You might want to keep it to scare the squirrels off," Morrison suggests, struggling to keep a straight face as Alex looks at him blankly.

"You think that would work?"

"Oh God," Miz mumbles, shooting a "See what you did?" look at John as he gives in to his amusement. "See you around," he manages, carefully pushing a reluctant Alex towards the door.

"Bye," he says around his chuckles.

Well, at least we humored him, Mike thinks with an eyeroll as Alex looks carefully outside before rushing for the car.