Despite Raw being done in Mexico City, Miz isn't surprised to learn that some of the Raw guys, not just Alex and Morrison, decide to remain in Mexico City, relax for a few days before having to travel to Vengeance in Texas that weekend. It's a last minute decision when he calls the airport and has his flight schedule changed as well to that weekend. With Smackdown still to happen, the city is full of WWE crew members and Superstars.
Though Truth and he had begun to team months back so he could distract him from Morrison, things had slowly changed when they had gotten fired. The demented man is still hard to be around sometimes but somewhere in the struggle to get their jobs back, Mike had grown used to him and his ways. Not that it makes it any easier when John or Alex is in trouble or hurting and he's stuck in the hotel or locker room listening to Truth's ramblings about this conspiracy or that. Luckily for Mike, Truth is called back to America early Tuesday for some media in his home town and he never quite bothers to tell his tag partner that his return trip to the States isn't happening as planned.
Instead of getting twitchy at not having an interview or anything to do himself, Mike takes a deep breath and leaves the hotel room, flipping his phone from hand to hand as he heads down the hall to where he knew Alex and John are staying. Last he'd heard from Alex, John had been released from the hospital; was sore and miserable after the match the night before with Mark Henry and could barely sit up without cringing at every movement. He knocks a couple times before leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed as he looks around at the soft brown wallpaper. Despite his tolerating Truth a little more lately, he still can't help but feel like breathing's easier when the man isn't looking over his shoulder at every little thing.
After a few minutes, he's about to knock again when finally the door slips open and he shifts to look inside, surprised to find Morrison leaning against the wall, peering out at him. "John," he greets with a frown, his arms falling to his sides. "Where's Alex?"
"Out getting food and stuff," he mumbles, shifting gingerly to the side to allow Mike inside. As soon as the door's shut behind him, he turns slowly to head back to the beds, his arm wrapped carefully around his midsection to brace his ribs. "What're you doing here?"
"I just wanted to check in, see how you're both doing," he says, making sure to include Alex in things in an attempt to not aggravate Morrison's pride.
"We're fabulous," John says with a sigh as he awkwardly settles back down on the bed, grimacing in a way that makes Mike ache for him.
"Can I get you anything?"
"No." He stretches out slowly, his whole body relaxing into the mattress with the ease only one used to doing so on a hotel bed could manage.
"Mind if I stay till Alex gets back?" Mike feels awkward, their interrupted conversation the week before still weighing on him, not to mention everything from the night before.
John doesn't answer for a moment, his gaze distant and not all that focused as he peers at the TV. "No," he finally shrugs. "It hurts to talk or... anything really, though, so..."
"That's fine, I just want to hang out," he says. He knows that it might be easier to sit on Alex's bed but it just feels so far away from his former tag partner that he ignores it outright and sits carefully on the bottom of John's bed, laying back with his legs hanging over the edge and pillowing his head with his arm so they both can see the TV.
He quickly understands why John looks so out of it, the show they're watching in Spanish, of which neither men know a lot of so the dialogue is mostly going over their heads. "Where's Rodriguez when you need him?" he cracks, letting his head drop back against the bed in time to see Morrison groan through a laugh, shooting a glare down at him afterwards. He sobers. "Sorry." When the other man loses some tension in his face from the pain, he takes a deep breath. "Truth left this morning for an interview in North Carolina. So I can spend more time over here till you're up to leaving. In fact, if you and Alex are alright with it, I may just stay here with you guys. There's no need keeping two rooms if we're just going to hang out here for the most part."
John shrugs, hissing slightly as his upper body protests that movement. As he breathes through the pain, Mike sits up and rests a hand on his upper arm, squeezing slightly. "Fine," he finally manages, eyes fluttering open. "Alex won't mind either, you know that."
He nods, lips twitching as he leans back against the pillows next to Morrison, picking at his fingernails as he half-watches the show. Remembering John's earlier words, he struggles to remain silent and still, not wanting to aggravate his injuries any further. It's near torture for the hyperactive man, though, so he's relieved when the sound of a keycard in the door attracts both of their attention, Alex soon entering the room with groceries.
He blinks at Mike before grinning, setting the bags down on the oval table a few feet from the TV. "Hey, man. Get away from the conspiracies for awhile?"
"Yeah, thankfully." Pulling himself off of the bed, Miz joins Alex in digging through the bags to pull out food and drinks. "Truth was called off for media events in America, but I decided to stay here for awhile longer." His eyes flicker quickly over to John and Alex nods, understanding. "I was telling John maybe I'll just crash here, since you guys are hanging around too. Don't see the point to two hotel rooms if I'm just staying alone, you know?"
"Sure man, that works," he agrees easily, resting a bottle of coconut water next to Morrison so he doesn't have to move to get it. "Need anything, John?"
"No." He looks tired, Mike notes, unsurprised when Alex nudges him a little later, pointing a fork covered in tamale filling at a fast asleep Morrison. They watch him for a moment, his breathing deep and even despite the rib injury, before returning their attentions to the food.
They only leave the hotel for brief periods the next couple of days, despite Morrison regaining some of his strength in that time. Wednesday, they walk with him down to the lobby, his pace still slow and hesitant as each motion shoots throbbing pain up his ribcage and back, but when he settles down in a plush couch peering out to the street ahead, he looks pleased to be out of the hotel room, if a little flushed. On Thursday, Morrison wants to go outside for awhile, and after some quiet discussions, Alex and Mike agree. The weather is mild and warm, and sun beats down upon them as they wander around the street outside of their hotel, taking in some of the nearby businesses and people in the area.
On Friday, they're all preparing to leave back to the states the next day, packing and confirming flights and enjoying one last day of Mexican food and sights. The day passes peacefully enough, though John seems oddly quiet, thoughtful. That evening, Mike leaves briefly to get them all something to eat and returns to find a fretting Alex pacing in front of the beds, his hands tangled in his short hair. His head jerks up as Mike enters, his face falling as he catches sight of his former mentor. "Alex?" Mike demands, quickly shutting the door behind him. "What's wrong?" He looks around the room, his breath catching slightly. "Where's John?"
Alex looks even more anxious now, his eyes roaming here and there, not daring to lock gazes with Mike. "He... He wanted a soda," he says, ringing his hands anxiously. "I went to get it from the machine down the hall but when I came back, Mike, he was gone. I swear, it was only five minutes- I don't..."
Placing the bags of food on the table quickly, Mike holds a hand up to stop Alex's rambling and pulls his phone out, staring at it for only a moment before snapping it shut. He curses vehemently. "Come on," he orders in a clipped tone. "I think I know where he is."
"Wha- what?"
Mike looks grim as Alex quickly grabs his wallet, phone and keycard, stuffing them into his jean pockets. "Smackdown taping is going on right now." Alex pales and follows him.
They arrive too late, John already in the ring and wrestling Mark Henry- again. How he's working through the pain, they're not sure, but Morrison actually hits some offense and gets the much larger man down a few times. In the end, though, it's not enough, Mike and Alex unable to do anything but watch as Mark grabs John midair once more and slams him bodily down against the mat. "Oh God," A-Ri cringes, his hands clenching together in frustration.
Mike is so angry he can't even talk, grabbing Alex by the sleeve and dragging him to the gorilla position where they wait, hiding in the shadows until Mark Henry's past. As soon as the referee assists Morrison to the back, they step forward. "Shoo," Mike tells the referee, remembering how good it had felt to take the man down just a few weeks ago- had caused him his job, but in this moment, it feels like the least he could've done after the refs had all but ignored John on Monday. "We have him," he insists, glaring at the shorter man until he releases John's arm and walks off, shaking his head. Alex quickly ducks down a bit and loops John's arm around his shoulders, Mike repeating the motion on the other side.
The walk through the arena and to the rental car waiting outside the exit seems to take a lifetime but finally they arrive, John groaning slightly as Alex supports him and Mike unlocks the car. They work together quickly and efficiently to get the hurting man into the backseat, Alex running across to the other side as Mike kneels down to look him in the eye. "No pride BS here, Morrison," he says, tone dark and serious. "Do you need another ER visit?" As John struggles to breathe normally, his hands slip over his ribcage, murmuring apologies as John tries to squirm away from the probing touch.
"N-no," he stutters, strains as Mike lets his hands rest there quietly for a moment, pressing slightly. "Mike..."
"I swear to God, Morrison. If you start breathing even a little weird, or anything, I'm taking you, I don't care what you say," he snaps, thisclose to poking John in the face as he points a shaking finger at him. "You idiot, what were you thinking?"
"I felt better," he almost whimpers, rolling his head against the edge of the seat. "I thought... maybe... I could prove to myself I could do it on my own, this time. Without tag partners to abandon me or..." He hisses out a tired breath and shakes his head. "It was stupid."
"No friggin kidding." Mike leans back, still frustrated and angry, but too tired to continue arguing with the agonized man. "I don't know what to do with the plane trip tomorrow," he says after a moment. "You're in no condition..."
John grits his teeth, eyes gleaming with desperation. "Mike, I just want to go home." He sounds as desperate as he looks and it tugs at Mike, leaves him feeling sick and horrible.
Mike bows his head, hands pressing against John's shoulders. "You jackass," he sighs. "Fine, we'll plan on leaving tomorrow but if there's one complication tonight, I'm leaving you here." He looks over at Alex, who nods grimly, and pulls himself out of the car. "Watch him," he orders the younger man. He paces around the car a few times, ignoring his NXT rookie's worried gaze following him, trying to calm down before getting behind the wheel in this foreign place. If he could, he'd march back into that building and teach Mark Henry, Teddy Long, the referees, everyone a lesson, but he's just gotten his job back and something tells him Morrison wouldn't appreciate Mike fighting his battles for him anyway. He scrapes his fingers through his hair a time or two before kicking the nearest tire viciously. "Dammit, dammit, dammit." His anger slowly fading away into dull exhaustion, he grabs the doorhandle and wrenches it open, not even caring anymore about the possibility of damaging the rental.
"You ok...?" Alex asks hesitantly as he drops into the driver's seat, staring at him in the rearview mirror.
He peers back at them, taking in Morrison's glassy gaze and Alex's wide-eyed look, shaking his head. "I'm fine," he mumbles, forcing the keys into the ignition. "Last chance, Morrison. ER?"
"No," the stubborn man gasps, shifting once more and pressing his hands to his ribcage. "I just need to lay down for awhile."
"Sure you do." Taking a deep breath, he shifts the car into drive and pulls away from the arena.
That Sunday, Mike stands at the edge of Morrison's hotel bed, glaring down at him. Neither John or Alex were on the card but Raw was in Texas as well, and with them all in one place, it was less likely for John to be able to do something stupid and risk injurying himself further once more. "Alex, you do not take your eyes off of him for a minute while I'm gone, ok?"
"Got it, Mike," Alex agrees readily, eager to make up for his slight from the Friday before.
"I swear, John, I see you anywhere near Vengeance tonight, I'll SCF you myself." The two men glare at each other for a few minutes before Mike turns away and grabs his bag, a thought coming to him as he peers down at it. "Alex, burn his ring gear if you have to."
"O-ok, Mike."
As he leaves to meet up with R-Truth, he overhears John mutter, "Judases."
"Drama queen." He rolls his eyes.
Nothing goes normally in the WWE anymore so when Nash runs in and takes out HHH, opening Punk up to their attacks, ensuring their victory, he's unsurprised. Their attack against Cena later in that evening has been planned for awhile, most of the idea coming from Truth since he's been so distracted thanks to Morrison's carelessness the past week. When Alberto Del Rio retains the WWE title as a result, it feels like payback to Mike- for Cena taking his title in the first place, and everything that's come since. To his relief, everything goes as smoothly as it can at a WWE pay per view, there being no sign of John or Alex the whole evening.
The next night, Morrison is back in the wrestling ring again, Mike rolling his eyes at Laurinaitis being as thoughtless as Teddy Long in sanctioning a match after the week prior. Even so, he can't do anything, Truth and he busy brainstorming for their tag match later that evening against Zack Ryder and John Cena.
He keeps his expression blank as Morrison loses after some vicious shots to his back and hip, ignoring Truth's mocking comments against his former tag partner, having no choice but to leave John's care to Alex this evening. When they attack Zack Ryder later on, he lets out some of his aggression on the younger man, destroying part of the interview set as well.
After a quick promo about how they're taking down the faces of the conspiracy one by one, the match against Cena, made a 2 on 1 by Laurinaitis, begins and they hold their own for awhile, despite Cena's constant rallying. After awhile the tide begins going the other way, Mike struggling pointlessly to get out of the Attitude Adjustment, when Truth clocks Cena with a bottle of water, quickly ending the match in a DQ. Not bound by tag rules any longer, the two resume what they had started the night before, beating Cena down with hard fists and kicks, desperate to keep him on the mat so he can't do the Superman thing once more. Their fun is interrupted, however, when Laurinaitis appears once more and announces that at Survivor Series, it'll be them against Cena and a partner of his choosing.
The rumors about a return at Survivor Series prove true as Cena announces that The Rock will be his tag partner. Mike grimaces, unimpressed. Great. Truth is nearly rabid at this, in his ear for the rest of the trip back to the hotel about how they should handle Rock and Cena in the weeks upcoming to Survivor Series. He nods vacantly, finally holding a hand up as they stand outside of their hotel room. "Look, we'll figure it out, ok? But for now, I just need some air. I'll see you later."
Truth looks surprised, almost suspicious, but nods anyway. "Alright. See you."
Mike walks slowly down the hall, waiting until the door clicks shut, and peers over his shoulder to make sure Truth is inside before he heads for the lobby. He wants to go to Alex and Morrison's room, see what the damage is now thanks to Wade Barrett, but Truth's expression weighs on him so he decides to play it safe. He goes outside, breathing in the late evening air, and leans against the side of the building, staring up at the stars for a few minutes. He tugs his phone out and dials quickly, listening as it rings in.
"Hey."
"Hey. Thought I'd check in. You alright?"
"Sore, as always." John huffs a faint, derisive chuckle. "But I guess it could've been worse, I could've been rescued by a bottle of water."
"Ha-ha," Mike rolls his eyes with a mock laugh. "Alex there?"
"Yeah, he's being a dedicated babysitter."
"Don't give him grief, you know he's just trying to help you. We both are."
There's a long pause and Mike squirms against the rough brick wall, hating not being able to know directly what's going on. "I know," John finally says quietly. "I do appreciate it."
"You have a great way of showing it," Miz comments with no heat, his eyes softening. "Look, I should go, I don't want Truth growing suspicious-" Or more suspicious, he thinks with a frown. "-... take it easy, alright?"
"Yessir, Miz, sir."
"I really feel for Alex," he cracks, smiling as John chuckles.
"Yeah, whatever. Bye."
"Bye." He leans his head against the wall and sighs, letting go of some of the strain as he peers upwards once more. Things will get better. Can't get a whole lot worse, right?