"Hey," Alex says as Mike leaves the hotel bathroom, looking up at him. There's something about his expression that Mike doesn't like, in fact it worries him. He frowns at the younger man for a moment as he crosses the room, stuffing his street clothes in his bag. "Can we talk?"

"Sure man, you know we can." He straightens back up, kicks his bag against the wall and sits across from Alex, eyes fluttering as he sinks into the surprisingly soft hotel bed. It's been a long few days and he can't wait to just settle in and sleep until they have to get up and start the cycle all over again, but he forces himself to stay awake to hear Alex out. "What's up?"

Alex fiddles with his phone for a long moment, his brows furrowed. "Um, there's... I." He sighs, his hesitation to just come out and say whatever it is that needs to be said only adding to Mike's discomfort. "I've been talking with Dr. Andrews."

Mike stares at him blankly, not understanding. "Wait, Dr. Andrews? WWE's surgeon? Why?"

"You noticed... the last few weeks I've been wrestling with a heavy brace on my arm?" he asks lowly, his hand absently massaging at the arm in question. "I, um, have been working through weakness and pain for awhile now. In my knee too, and we thought it was something that I might be lucky and avoid needing surgery for but the latest tests have kind of confirmed that doing so will only jeopardize my future as a wrestler, risk shortening my career. So he's going to do both surgeries at once, and I'll begin rehab and hopefully be back competing soon."

There's a distant look in Mike's eyes as he listens, takes this all in. Weakness... pain... He shakes his head, trying not to compare how a similar conversation with Morrison had gone the year previously, how it had only led to the eventual end of his time in the WWE. "How long?"

"A while. You, you were in Canada when it started," he admits lowly, almost wincing away from Mike as he expects the massive blowup that is sure to follow.

Mike looks like he doesn't know whether to yell or laugh, his face frozen in a tense expression with his lips parted slightly. "Oh my God," he finally hisses, standing and pacing between their beds. "Why do you and John do this crap? Over and over, it's like neither of you can learn a damn thing." He skids to a stop and grips Alex by the shoulders, staring down into his eyes. "Wasn't hiding the hip injury enough for you? What is it about telling me when you're injured that freaks you both out to the point that I don't find out until it's too late for me to do anything?"

Alex licks his lips, eyes downcast. "Mike, please... It's not that we don't want to tell you," he insists, his hands coming to rest on top of Mike's. "You're always so busy with media, and then the movie, and everything else you film and do for WWE, I'm pretty sure John doesn't want to burden you... and neither do I. Telling you when you were stuck up in Canada, unable to leave without getting yourself in some pretty serious trouble, seemed needlessly cruel. So I kept it to myself, and then you won the Intercontinental title and it still didn't seem the right time to tell you, until I knew what Dr. Andrews was going to say."

This knocks the wind out of Mike's sails, his anger fading into sadness as he realizes he'll be on the road alone from now on, with no Alex or John to hang out with, and he sinks onto the bed next to Alex, shifting until he wraps an arm around his shoulders, squeezing slightly. "You two are idiots," he says slowly, lips twitching into a solemn grin as Alex rolls his eyes at him, "but you're not burdens." They sit quietly for awhile, Alex leaning into Mike's touch slightly. "When is the surgery? I wanna be there. And don't even think about arguing with me," he warns him when he turns to look at him.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he shrugs, lifting his hands in agreement. "Well, apparently... I'm going in on Wednesday." He tilts his head at Mike, smirking a little. "Don't tell anyone I told you but it seems ol' Cena needs surgery too and he gets first crack tomorrow."

"Of course he does. Wait, do you know how long he'll be out?" Mike's expression turns calculating but all of his hopes are dashed when Alex shakes his head. "Well, damn. Either way, a possible break from him? I'll take it."

"That's mean, Mike." Even so, he finds himself chuckling. "So we're ok, right?"

Mike stares at him for a long moment until he squirms anxiously. "Of course we're ok," he finally lets him off of the hook. "Just next time, tell me from the start. No matter what's going on, ok?"

Alex sighs. "Alright, Mike. I'll try. But I think it's John's turn."

"Oh hush, let's just... no one have a next turn, alright?" He huffs as Alex smiles at him.

Although he hates that it has to happen at all, Mike is relieved that Alex's surgeries is scheduled on one of the few days that he has a brief break from media responsibilities. He's sitting in the Florida hospital's waiting room, tapping his foot and looking at his watch. The surgery'd just started and he knows it'll be a few hours at least, but that's not what he's counting the minutes about. Finally his phone goes off and he peers at it, rolling his eyes. "About damn time," he mumbles, getting to his feet and going down to the nurse's desk, pausing for a moment to just look.

John Morrison stands with his back to him, his hair looking as disgustingly perfect as ever, and despite his drastically reduced wrestling schedule, he still looks thin and toned and annoyingly put together. Even when Mike's in a suit and John's in jeans and a shirt, he still feels a little plain next to his former tag partner. He rolls his eyes and stuffs his hands in his slacks pockets before making his way over. "Took you long enough," he grouses, slapping a hand on John's shoulder as he jerks in surprise, turning around and smirking at Mike. "Take the wrong flight again?"

"Hey, you caused that to happen...! Someone forgot to book the right tickets," John teases him.

"Oh sure, blame me and not your own faulty information," he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. They crack quickly, however, Mike breaking into small chuckles as John laughs at him. "C'mon, man," he says, dropping an arm across the back of John's pleather jacket and leading him through the halls of the hospital back to the waiting room he'd left. "Surgery just started so we'll probably be here for a bit. Hope you're not hungry."

"Well, while you're mentioning that," he hedges, grinning as Mike glares over at him. "What?"

"You ate on the way here, you jerk?" He looks innocent as Mike jokingly slaps at him, a harmless smack against his arm. "I don't believe you, no wonder you were late!"

John just grins as the people around them look on in curious confusion. "Well, if you'd let me finish," he smirks. "I brought you something too." He reaches into his duffel bag and pulls out a white bag full of something that smells so delicious that Mike almost tackles him just to grab it.

"Is that...?" He gapes into the bag, looking up. "Ok, I take back everything bad I said about you," he laughs, pulling out two white containers. "Chili and a cheeseburger," he mumbles, honestly surprised. "You remembered."

"Hey, nothing like some comfort food while waiting for someone to get out of surgery, huh?" He claps Mike on the shoulder before settling in next to him to wait.

"Let me guess, you got pea soup and a grilled chicken sandwich?" he asks, smiling slightly as John peels off his jacket and gets comfortable. He notices the disgusted looks coming from some of the people around them and, deciding to capitalize on it, takes a huge bite of his burger, chewing obnoxiously until they finally turn back to their own business.

The food is long gone, John and Mike listlessly watching some strange daytime show on the TV hanging over the wall leading out of the waiting area, when finally a nurse appears in the vicinity, everyone remaining looking up as one, anxious for news on their own loved one. Thankfully her eyes fall right on Mike, recognizing him from earlier when Alex had been prepped, and smiles. "Here for Alex Riley?" He stands immediately, flanked by John, and she looks surprised for a minute before turning to professionalism. "He's out of surgery," she tells them. "He's in recovery right now, the anesthetic should wear off soon and we'll send him to his permanent room then."

"Can we sit with him?" Mike asks, anxious to see his friend after waiting for so many hours. "The plan is still for him to be released tomorrow, right?"

She nods and smiles at him. "Yes to both, just stay quiet and don't disturb the other patients."

"Haha, yeah, Mike, quiet," John whispers only loud enough for Mike to hear. To his credit, he barely responds, only elbowing his former tag partner once the nurse is walking in front of them so she can't see. They quietly enter the room, nodding at a nearby family member by another bed, and follows the nurse through the row of beds, stopping next to Alex's.

"He's doing quite well," the nurse tells them softly. "He'll probably be in and out for awhile, this is normal. When he does wake up for a longer period of time, please tell Samantha." She motions to a nurse who's overlooking Alex and a couple of the other nearby patients, who looks up with a small smile.

"Hey are you on Smackdown this week?" John asks after a few minutes, leaning back in the uncomfortable hospital chair that he'd just lifted over closer to the bed.

Mike glances over, his hand trailing across Alex's forehead, brushing some of his ungelled hair back. "No, why?"

Morrison smirks. "Well, this is one of the few weekends I have no plans. What say you we spend a few more days in Florida, make sure A-Ri doesn't see a squirrel and freak out so severely that he ruins his own recovery before it begins?"

"I heard that," a tired sounding voice coming from between them stops Miz's response, both men looking over in surprise to find Alex staring up at them in a bit of a drugged daze.

"Hey look who decided to join the land of the living," Mike says quietly, looking up with a slight nod as John gets up and approaches the nurse. "How do you feel?"

"Floaty," he mumbles, eyes fluttering.

"Do you think you'll be able to make room for us along all of your sneakers?" he asks, smiling. Alex blinks tiredly at him, half-smiling until the nurse comes over to talk to him, Mike joining John at the end of the bed to give her room to examine him. "Looks like he's gonna be alright."

"Yep. Did you doubt it?"

"No, not really."

"Sure. Mother hen," Morrison teases him slightly. Miz just rolls his eyes, huffing as John laughs at him.

Raw seems oddly quiet after a weekend spent in Florida with John and Alex, Mike recalling finding Morrison looking on with a startled expression on his face as he finally gets a good look at the closet where Alex leaves all of his shoes, a new pair that had been on the porch when they'd arrived at Alex's house in his hands waiting to join the others. "Dear God, are they shoes or bunnies? I swear they're multiplying before my very eyes."

Mike laughs at the memory, sighing as he prepares for the match he has against Ryback tonight. He used to be able to tell himself that he could handle being alone and competing as a pure singles competitor but it had changed, between Morrison getting fired and all of those weeks he spent in Canada... He wishes he weren't alone, trying to get ready to go up against the freakish large man. "Damn, damn, damn," he mumbles.

The match goes about as bad as he'd assumed, Ryback dominating him early on. His shoulder starts throbbing after a throw that he lands roughly on and all he can think is That's going to leave a mark... Even though the match seems to last a lifetime, he can tell that it ends pretty quickly, Ryback defeating him within two minutes. He trembles and tries to get out of there, get far away, as his shoulder protests each little movement. Thankfully Ryback has seemed to lose interest in him once the bell rings and he scrambles to the back, almost confused that Alex isn't there waiting for him. It takes him a minute to remember Alex's surgery and when he does, he feels even worse.

The trainer checks him over, puts some ice on his shoulder, and orders him to hold it there while he goes to look in on other superstars still cooling down after their matches. Mike sighs, feeling lonely. "Guess I better get used to this," he mumbles, wincing as he presses the ice against his bruised shoulder a little too hard.

He's still sitting there, eyes closed, when the paper sheet covering the cot crinkles next to him, his ears just barely picking up a soft sigh that sounds about as sad as he feels. His lips twitch slightly. "Hey, AJ." He can almost feel the girl blushing as she looks over at him.

"Hi, Miz. Are you alright?" she asks softly.

He opens his eyes and smiles grimly at the girl. Her night had been nearly as bad as his and he had seen her in tears yet again- this time on national television- before his match, though he had been far from the right state of mind to actually go and see her without risking saying the wrong thing and jeopardizing everything. He knows it's a little hypocritical of him but he kind of hates Paul Heyman for going there with her- even though he too has his own agenda during most of his dealings with AJ, he finds it a bit despicable of the much older man to pull the proposal bit on her after her painful recent relationships. "Just sore, nothing I haven't dealt with in the past. I'll be fine." She tilts her head, probably trying to deduce if he's being honest or not. "How are you?"

She shrugs, her eyes dark with sadness and pain. "I'm alright." He just smiles sympathetically at her, tentatively resting his hand on her back as she leans over and rests her head on his shoulder. "Is this ok?"

"Yeah, sure." He had been annoyed with her the prior week, MizTV being pretty much the exact opposite of what he had wanted, but the segment ending badly hadn't been her fault- that had all fallen on Booker T's shoulders, as had the match against Ryback tonight. The Smackdown general manager had put it all into motion... When she reaches over and rests her hand on top of his, he shifts his fingers so that they're palm to palm, slowly interlacing their fingers. He feels her smile against his shoulder, smiling slightly too as she relaxes against him. "It's all gonna be alright," he whispers. As she nods, he plays with her hair a little, smoothing it as it tickles against his skin. I hope, anyway.