Summerslam week. It's treated similarly to Wrestlemania, with multiple media events everyday and Axxess on the weekend. The main difference, however, is in most recent years, it's always occurred in LA, California, and has been branded the biggest party of, obviously, the summer. After months of traveling from this town to that, being in multiple states in a single week, to spend so much time at home in his own bed, only driving briefly to make it to each event- in his own vehicle, no less- feels strange, foreign.

He sighs, lifts his head up to absorb the early afternoon sun as he leans against his car, taking a minute before he enters the building for an autograph signing. It's been a long week, each day dragging on a bit more than the one before as Summerslam nears. He has no actual match announced even at this late date, though there are rumors that he'll have something to do.

Alex has been mostly off the grid, though Mike knows he's in town. A text here, and a text there, are the only communication he's had from the younger man. Morrison hasn't approached him physically or electronically since the attack ten days ago, not that he really blames him.

He blinks his eyes open, squares his shoulders as he pushes away from the warm comfort of his car. "Here we go."

That Sunday, he is given a last minute match- and he wonders bitterly, briefly, in the end who really is the worst master. The anonymous GM with all of his behind the scene shenanigans, who even so would at least take the time to announce and advertise his pay per view matches- or HHH, who seems to be overlooking everything but the WWE title situation.

He's brooding over this when the locker room door opens and Alex enters, a grin on his face that falters a bit when he sees the look on Mike's face. "Hey, man."

"Hey." He picks at the wrist tape roll, trying meticulously to straighten it before applying it, and doesn't look up at his former protege again.

"Sorry I haven't been in touch much the past few days... it's been busy, huh?" he offers awkwardly, settling down towards the end of the bench Miz is currently occupying.

"Yeah, it's been a regular madhouse," he says blandly, finally sorting the tape out with a hard jerk. He's not mad at Alex, far from it, but here, now, the separation he's had from both Riley and Morrison recently eats at him. We started this crap for the GM's benefit but he's obviously lost his power. Could we...? Would it be worth it or maybe we're all better off without each other's drama in our lives...?

"Are you ok?"

Mike jerks out of his thoughts and looks over, surprised by the question. "I'm fine."

Alex looks frustrated for a moment before leaning forward, wrenching the wrist tape from Mike. His match is first, his chance against Dolph to get the US title- something he's wanted, hungered for, for awhile-, and he knows now is not the time to get into an argument, to get distracted, but the locker room is empty, the Anon GM hasn't been heard from for weeks, and it seems as good a time as any to get this off of his chest. "I listened to you last week, y'know? I heard every word you said, and I understand it, maybe better than you realize. I'm relatively new to this business but I understand. It's been a hell of year, for all three of us. And honestly, it looks like it's not even close to ending for any of us. But I've stuck by you, and so has John.

"At least, we've tried to. Lately, all it feels like you're doing is pushing us away. The Anon GM has been basically rendered powerless since HHH took over, but still you don't say anything to suggest we stop acting like we hate each other. Do you really think HHH cares who likes and who hates each other? I doubt he sees very far beyond his own nose, much less to anything beyond the title scene at the moment." He pauses for a moment, features softening as Mike chuckles despite himself, a small noise from the back of his throat but noticeable none-the-less. "I know you hate that you've lost the WWE title, but pushing everyone away isn't going to fix things. We just wanna help, Mike." He taps him on the shoulder with the roll of tape before standing up. "Think about it, huh?"

As he leaves, applying the tape even as he walks off, Mike scrubs a hand through his hair, gaze distant and thoughtful. The monitor in the corner of the room shows feed from the arena, in the ring, backstage segments, whatever the cameras catch that's deemed relevant enough to be filmed.

Still focused on Alex's words, he watches his match against Dolph. Mike can feel his desire for the US title from here as he fights and fights, never completely gives up, until that final Zigzag that ultimately takes him out of commission long enough for the three count. He's out of the room and by the gorilla position before he can even fully think about it or come to a conscious decision.

Dolph comes through first, sneering over at Mike with a glowering Vickie by his side, his US title held securely in his hand. Wisely, the bleach blond doesn't approach, instead attempting to lead Vickie away even as she wrenches away from his hand on her back, walking quickly away from him with her head held high.

Miz rolls his eyes at their drama, quickly forgetting it as the curtain brushes aside once more, a tired, sweaty and breathless Alex stumbling through. He pauses mid-step as he catches sight of Mike, his eyes widening. "You waiting for me?" he struggles to say, trying to steady his breathing at the same time.

Ignoring this, he takes a hesitant step forward, and another, watching as Alex rubs at his neck and upper back, cringing at the results of the Zigzag. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, there'll be other opportunities, right?" Despite his sure words, Miz catches the slight frustration behind his tone and smiles slightly, reminded of a younger version of himself who wanted everything now, now, now... and still does. Probably always will.

"Of course there will be," he says simply. He shifts to the side, allowing Alex through, and the two men head back to the locker room quietly. "I, uh, thought about what you said," he offers once they're outside of the room. "I... You're right." He scuffs his shoe against the floor, eyes locked on the same area. "I'm sorry."

"The apology's unneeded, Mike." Alex smiles when his former mentor looks up at him, a bit surprised. "I told you, I understood. I just wanted you to understand a different viewpoint of it. Besides, I think someone else needs that apology a little more than I do."

Morrison. His heart sinks slightly, mouth dry. "You're right. Again. Why does that keep happening?" He grins a little when Alex's smile grows and looks down the hall. "Do you... know where he is?"

Alex shakes his head, holds a hand up. "I'm gonna give you a bit of advice, Mike."

He sighs, wondering when exactly Alex changed, grew up. "More of that too, huh? Ok, what?"

"Let him come to you? You forcing an apology on him before he's ready to see you might not be the best thing to do right now."

Mike's lips twist as he considers this, remembers past fights they had during their first run as tag partners and how they had been resolved up until the last few weeks leading into the draft. He had known that too but time and bitterness had wiped his memories of how best to handle John, the past year only helping to remind him bit by bit. "What if he doesn't?"

Alex shakes his head. "This is John Morrison we're talking about; he didn't give up on you when the Anon GM forced you two to work together, did he? He stuck by you for months, until you could cash in the briefcase. He'll come to you. Just be patient."

Mike huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "My worst event," he teases slightly. Their conversation, however, is interrupted as he stiffens. "Crap, my match. I almost forgot. I'll see you later?"

"Sure, man. Good luck." As Mike rushes back to the gorilla position, Alex watches him for a moment before going back into the locker room to finish cooling off, a funny look on his face as he recalls something Morrison had said earlier on the way to the arena, quickly putting two and two together. "Hopefully their being on opposite sides of this match won't cause more tension..."

As he climbs into the ring, Mike stews over knowing so very little about this match, just that he's in it and that it's a six man, thanks to the announcement during his entrance. His gaze drifts as Truth comes out- again? Seriously?-, followed by Alberto Del Rio. He watches grimly as the Mexican hands off his briefcase to his ring announcer, Ricardo Rodriguez. Nearly a year ago, that had been him and Alex Riley.

His fists clench as his opponents come out, his suspicions upon seeing Truth confirmed: his first glance of John Morrison since last Monday is here, now, as rivals yet again. John doesn't look him in the eye as he enters the ring, focusing instead on Truth with an intense, angry stare. Patience, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Alex reminds him persistently. He distracts himself by stretching a bit during Kofi and Mysterio's entrances, unimpressed.

When Truth eventually loses to Mysterio, Mike huffs in disgust and bails as quickly as he can, leaving the celebrating faces behind. Even in a match with as little fan fare as this one, a loss is a loss and it eats at him- though seeing Truth lose is always a positive.

He wanders the hallways for awhile, trying to distract himself from dwelling on how far he's fallen since being WWE champion, when it gets just a bit too much and he turns, abruptly punching the ungiving wall next to him. He hisses, shaking his fist out, and rolls his eyes at himself. "Dammit."

"A broken hand won't make you feel better," a bland voice says quietly from behind him.

He jerks, hope rising within him even as his heart sinks slightly. He turns to find John watching him, arms held rigidly at his sides as if he's not sure what to expect either. His lips part slightly, so many thoughts and feelings rushing through him that he's not sure what to do, where to start. "John," he finally manages, wincing at how lame that one word sounds coming from him after the last few weeks.

"Mike."

He looks away, shifting slightly. "I... talked with Alex earlier."

"Oh?"

John sounds uninterested, despite his sharp gaze still locked on Mike, but he bolsters himself and forces on. "Yeah, he... made some good points." Straightening his shoulders further, he locks eyes with John, not wanting there to be any doubt in what he's about to say. "Since losing the title, I've been distancing myself more and more from, well, from both of you. Even with the Anon GM gone, I hadn't made steps to fix things between Alex and I... and then I started taking it out on you, too. I'm not saying that this is going to be an instant fix- I'm a slow learner, sometimes... but I don't want to do that anymore. To either of you."

He rarely apologizes to anyone, it tends to go against his very nature, but he remembers how it felt to take his temper out on Morrison two weeks ago. Far from being the stress reliever he had expected, it had left him sick and hating himself- one wrong move could've taken John out of commission once more (maybe even permanently), especially with his nerve damage still causing him problems, not to mention how delicate neck injuries can be anyhow. Adding onto that that he had been helping Morrison's most hated enemy, the very cause of his injury in the first place, and... well...

He takes a deep breath, releases it. "I'm sorry, John. It all just went... too far. I didn't mean to..." The look on John's face is inscrutable, his dark, anger-filled eyes boring into Mike's. For the first time in a long while, the former champion feels true, choking fear and he wonders if maybe listening to Alex, waiting until Morrison came to him wasn't long enough.

When John moves a moment later, he stiffens, trying not to listen to his flight or fight response as his former tag partner grabs the side of his arm, squeezing slightly. "I know. I hate what you did, that you helped Truth... but I know." He still looks unhappy, like the words are leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, and Mike wonders for a moment if he's been struggling between what he knows and what he feels since that Monday night attack. "I've had time to think." He mercifully releases his grip on Mike and steps back, his eyes downcast. "I was beyond pissed at first but time and talking to Alex helped, some." He strains a bit, obviously fighting to think of how to word what's on his mind, before sighing, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "No harm done, right?"

"You sure about that?" Mike asks shrewdly, watching him with a tired frown. "John..."

"I'm fine," he insists, holding a hand up. "Hey, if I got over 2009, I can get over anything with enough time, right?"

"Sure," he says, unconvinced.

The next night is a mixed bag in results for them all- John has another opportunity against R Truth in a falls count anywhere match, his own suggestion, and Mike watches quietly as Truth all but trashes John further, his neck once more coming into play as John begins holding onto it midway through. Somehow, though, it's not the death knell it'd been the previous weeks and Morrison rides it out until he's able to get in just enough offense- involving an office chair, of all things- to knee Truth in the skull and get the three count.

He wonders if this will do it, if John will be appeased with that victory or if he'll continue to stubbornly go after the man who took away months of his career and ruined their friendship. Or if Truth will fall off of the rails worse and continue to target Morrison. As John walks through the curtain, looking a little pained but pleased, Mike nods at him. "Feel good?"

"Damn straight," he breathes, raising an eyebrow at him. "You're up, eh? What are you going to do?"

"You'll see." Mike smirks as John rolls his eyes. He has no match scheduled for real this time, so he decides instead to target a celebrity in attendance... well, sort of. Jared the Subway guy is in the front row and he directs his attention to him, stealing the sub he's carrying around and giving his own Subway advertisement to show he could be a better spokesman than who they currently have. Afterwards he announces his intentions to be champion again- Alex's words from the night before convincing him it is time to attempt to force his way back into the mess of people struggling to get a chance at the world title- and leaves, taking the sub with him.

He walks for awhile, looking for Alex and Morrison. He finally finds them hanging around catering and heads over, still working on the sub. "You know, really, this isn't all that bad," he mumbles, taking another bite from it. "Too bad there isn't enough for you two-

"Oh, but there is," Alex responds.

"What?" Mike shifts so he can see around them and frowns. The whole catering table is covered in Subway sandwiches.

"They're catering this tonight, that's part of the reason why Jared was in the audience," the rookie explains, John nodding next to him as he bites into his own sub.

"...Well, now I don't feel so special," Mike huffs as the other two chuckle slightly.