After Raw, Miz is off- heads to London. When he had tweeted that he was going to be worldwide in the next few weeks, he wasn't kidding. London, back to America, over to Australia, back to America... His head spinning already, he stares out of the window. This life, as hard as it can be, definitely has its perks, especially to those who love to see the world. The autograph signings and commercials that he films there goes well, and he's sitting around tired and bored early Sunday morning, picking at the couch he's sitting in, watching some show on the BBC. Turning it down so he can just hear the soft droning of the British accented people, he picks his phone up and, not even minding the international charges, he dials Alex's number.

It rings a few times and he's starting to wonder if maybe the kid is still wrestling during the current house show, but finally it's answered, his voice strained and a little breathy. "Hey, Mike."

"Hey, I wasn't sure if I'd called while you were wrestling or what."

"Nah, man, I just wrapped up. Beat David Otunga. You know they're giving him this whole ridiculous presentation with his posing? Like, special music and lighting and ... Yikes. I pretty much had to save the poor crowd from that one."

Mike grimaces. "I don't even want to picture that. So how was the crowd?"

"Good, Peoria had a lot of energy."

"No two Zacks this year?"

Alex laughs at that, remembering the year before when somehow Zack had managed to be at both the Peoria house show they had competed in that year and on Smackdown. "No, I've only seen one. So far."

"Thank God. One of him goes a long way."

"Aw, he's not a bad guy."

"Maybe not bad, just really, really annoying." Alex laughs and they sit quietly for a minute before Miz overhears one of the techs in the back, saying something. "Hey, man, if you have to go, I should get some sleep anyway. I'll be heading over tomorrow for Raw."

"Alright, Mike. I'll see you soon then."

"Bye." Clicking the phone shut, he leans back against the cushions and sighs, staring at the ceiling. If only he could sleep, too many thoughts and plans rattling around in his skull...

By the time Raw rolls around, Alex, despite having sounded perfectly normal on the phone the day before, keeps giving him odd looks. He notices, it's hard not to- the younger man's gaze is difficult to ignore, impossible to shake. When he doesn't see him, he feels it like a heavy weight between his shoulder blades. He almost feels bad, knows that he's only been acting even stranger since winning the Intercontinental title, and keeping his plans from his former protege isn't helping things. He would like to tell him but the kid literally has no poker face, one minute too long with the wrong person and all of his careful maneuvering would prove pointless. He can't have that, no matter what.

Word can't get out, he doesn't want the guilt added onto his disappointment should things not play out the way he hopes they will. So he keeps quiet, goes to visit AJ just to get away from the odd stares aimed his way. She's sitting primly in her office, head tilted as she assigns officials to this match and that, Miz smirking as he finds Jerry hovering outside the door, obviously itching to discuss what Punk had done the week before to him. King says nothing, trying and failing to ignore him as he smirks over at him, cockily rubbing his hands along the sleek Intercontinental championship.

Once the half-dozen referees leave the room, AJ walks to the door and peers from side to side from Jerry to Miz. "Mike," she finally says with one of her dreamy smiles. "Come in, please."

One last confident smirk at Jerry and he brushes past her, pausing only momentarily to smile down at her in the doorway, their bodies just close enough to be suggestive, let her feel his warmth, before he enters the room, adjusting the title belt across his shoulder. She shuts the door calmly behind them and turns to face him, her eyes gleaming as she watches him look at the various posters and pictures covering her walls. Finally he turns to her and takes her in, subtly licking his lips. "You look pretty today," he tells her lowly, smiling as she flushes anew.

"Thank you." Trying to return to professionalism, she shakes her head roughly. "What can I do for you?"

He walks up to her, brushing a hand across her arm before running his fingers along her palm, not quite touching but not quite moving away either. "I missed you," he mumbles. She smiles, all pretenses failing as he leans in, pressing a faint kiss to the side of her mouth. When he pulls back, her eyes are fluttering open, glinting. "I'm glad you're coming with to Australia."

"I missed you too," she breathes out, leaning into him.

He discreetly pulls back and her face falls slightly, until she notes his hand still teasing hers. "Not here," he reminds her, smiling faintly. "We don't want a repeat of your issues with Daniel, do we? People thinking that you're just being used for your power."

"Right," she nods. "Well, then." She clears her throat, steadies herself. "On that note, I need to talk to you about your opponent tonight."

He'd rather talk about the board, if there had been any advances in that, but by the time she tells him who he's competing against, he loses that train of thought, suddenly seeing red. He barely clings to his temper, wanting so badly to snap at her. "Cena? Why him?" he finally asks, his dark blue eyes narrowed as she examines a sheet of paper with the various matches the board had approved for the evening. He feels like he's back in 2010, getting overshadowed by the Chain Gang Soldier yet again.

"Because we think it'd be good to have a Wrestlemania rematch, and with Rey still injured from the concussion, it will give you the chance for a big win leading up to Night of Champions." She smiles up at him. "How does that sound?"

He breathes heavily, nodding impatiently. "Fine," he finally mumbles. "I will defeat him, no doubt about that." She nods as he turns and leaves, finally letting some of his anger out in a fierce glare to King.

"Things didn't go so well?" his former rival smirks at him, before knocking on the office door. Mike storms away as she beckons him in.

His anger and impatience makes him sloppy. One off moment and he loses, just like that. Alex watches quietly as he throws his things into his duffel, backing away whenever Miz looks at him warningly. "Let's go," he snaps, unable to stand being in the same building as AJ right now. He can't risk his temper getting the best of him, all of his carefully set inroads to the suseptible GM failing now when he's so close.

They're in the rental car, driving back to the hotel, when Alex brazenly turns the thrumming radio off, the silence shocking both men at its suddenness. "What did you do that for?!" Mike snaps, about to slap his hand away and turn it back on, needing the eardrum blasting distraction, but Alex holds on steadily, turning in his seat to stare at him.

"What is going on with you?" the younger man demands, his lowly spoken words sounding all-encompassing in the silent car. "Talk to me, Mike. What are you up to with AJ?"

Mike shakes his head, closing his eyes for a moment before training them back on the road. "There's nothing going on, Alex," he says through gritted teeth. "Just the same tired crap. Can't you tell?"

"Mike-"

"DROP IT!" he finally yells, slamming his fist roughly against the steering wheel so hard that it cracks. "I said it is nothing, so let it go!"

Alex falls silent immediately, his eyes impossibly wide in his pale face. Not another word is spoken the car ride to, or the time spent, in the hotel as they prepare for the trip to Australia. Mike can't resist a glance over, finding almost a look of relief on his former NXT rookie's face when he realizes that they're not sitting together on the 18 hour flight. As much as it hurts him, he's relieved too. Less time that he might crack, the burden of it all slowly becoming almost too much to bear. If you only knew...