After getting the night off for Main Event, still hurting from Brock Lesnar's attack, Miz makes sure to be at Smackdown, lurking and watching unhappily as the show goes on around him. He'd spent the past few days at Alex's house, recovering as quickly as he could, absorbing the Floridian sun and trying not to stew on AJ's words or MizTV's destruction again. So it's a slightly less pained Mike that rushes the halls of Smackdown and finds where Cesaro's having his interview, attacking the current US champion viciously. The brawl gives Miz the chance he needs to take out some of the aggravation he's been feeling- but it's not enough. He thinks it'll never be enough.
That Monday, he's wandering the halls when he spots something on the monitor and stops short: Alex Riley and Yoshi Tatsu stupidly enough mocking Big Show just to get caught and laid out by two of his massive fists. He checks the clock, uncomfortably aware that his match is coming up soon, but goes to the trainer's office anyway. His friend is laying on one of the cots barely twitching, and he rests a hand on top of his shoulder, shaking his head. "Dammit, Alex, what were you thinking, kid?!" He's still standing there, dwelling on all of the bad things that'd happened the past few weeks, when the trainer's office slams open again and Zack Ryder is dragged in by unsettled referees, the trainer immediately moving over to him.
Mike winces as the Long Island Iced Z coughs viciously, smears of red visible on his hand as he looks up and catches sight of the other two men in the room. He'd just competed against Jack Swagger and had taken some horribly rough hits, worse than most had realized if it'd caused internal bleeding. Miz knows that it's his turn, his match against Cody Rhodes now, and brushes a hand through Alex's hair before wandering by Zack. "Hey, man, try to keep an eye on him for me, huh? I'll be back soon," Mike tells the Internet Champion, nodding quickly at his best friend.
"Sure," he agrees in a slightly raspy voice, glancing over at Alex. "I can do that."
"Thanks." Leaving with a purpose in his step, Miz bites his lip. He's tired of all of the people he knows and likes getting hurt- Alex, Ricardo, Zack, AJ, Morrison... Although he knows all too well that it's just a part of the business it's still extremely tiresome after awhile.
But in the end he joins them in the trainer's office sooner than he'd expected, alongside Alex in unconsciousness, and Zack grimaces. "This room is filling up quick," he sighs, coughing into a towel as more blood is expelled. "Dammit..." He wants payback, he wants to bash Jack Swagger's face in for tonight, and for taking his US title almost a year ago, but he knows he has little chance of that now. He's still sitting there, balefully spitting out pink tinged saliva, when the door clicks open once more. "Now who?" he's starting to ask when he falls quiet. "Oh."
Ricardo Rodriguez inches in, looking uncomfortable and a bit out of place. For perhaps the first time in two months, he's in the trainer's office for a reason outside of being injured himself, and he looks beyond fretful as he glances from Alex's prone figure to Mike's, his eyes lowering in worry. When he catches sight of Zack staring at him curiously, he swallows and inches past him, standing between the two unconscious men's cots as if unsure where to begin. He'd suffered many of Big Show's KO punches in the past few months, so he understands how A-Ri especially is feeling right now, but he knows Mike the best of the two men.
His thoughts are cut into, however, by the shrill ringing of a nearby cell phone- probably Alex's, since Mike's would be left in the locker room- both he and Zack jerking at the sound of it. Downstait blares through the room and Zack cringes, his sharp movements only exacerbating his injuries. "Ugh, answer it, bro."
Ricardo hesitates and shakes his head. "But... I don't..." Despite his discomfort with the prospect, he ventures towards it and looks down at the lit up screen. "It's John Morrison."
Zack grins sharply, before his lips tug back down, a confused look on his face. "Wait, I thought he was dead." Shrugging, he waves a hand towards the device. "Answer it, bro. We're all friends here."
Ricardo's eyebrows raise in surprise at this claim before he complies, frowning as he holds the phone up to his ear. "Hello?" He hadn't talked with the Parkour Master for a very, very long time- their last conversation being from years back when they'd held a bit of a parkour challenge and Ricardo had walked away with bloody shins, to his employer's displeasure.
There's a long pause before Morrison asks slowly, "Is this the trainer?"
"Oh. Um. No, lo siento, this is Ricardo Rodriguez." The ring announcer grimaces, hesitating. "I came to see how Miz and... and Alex were doing, and his phone was ringing. Zack Ryder encouraged me to answer when we saw it was you." He flinches, holding the phone up as Zack yells a quick "Hey Bro!" to Morrison, it immediately causing him to double over as he coughs unstoppably for long moments, blood trailing down his chin afterwards. Cringing, Ricardo turns his back to him and looks at Mike.
"How are Mike and Alex doing?" John asks after a moment, once Zack's quieted down.
"Alex is still unconscious," the younger man admits lowly. "Mike... he's out too. It looks like his shoulder was messed up pretty badly." He examines the icepacks wrapped from the edge of his collarbone down his arm, eyes squinting in worry.
"I see," John mumbles in a strained voice. "Hey, can you give them a message for me?" Ricardo, taking a moment to think, relieved that Alberto's match is still almost an hour out, agrees quietly. "Great. Just tell whichever of them wakes up first to call me, alright?"
"Of course, John, I can do that," he confirms. The two men fall silent, Ricardo waiting patiently for a few moments. Figuring that John has nothing else to say, remembering how quiet the man was unless in certain circumstances, he speaks up again. "The trainer's taking good care of them, they'll be fine."
"Thanks, man. Look, I've got to go. Thanks for this."
"No problem. Goodbye." Hanging up the phone, Ricardo presses his thumbs to his eyes and sighs, examining the two men before looking over at Zack. Things still awkward between the two men after all of the months that Del Rio had beaten Ryder down, neither say very much. The Long Island Iced Z continues coughing through the pain in his lungs and Ricardo keeps an eye on Miz and Alex, watching as Alex drifts in and out of consciousness, Mike only just starting to come to when the trainer's office door opens once more and Alberto enters, eyes lighting up when he spots his ring announcer.
"Ah, amigo, there you are!" he says quietly, quickly joining him between the two cots. "Are you alright?" At Ricardo's nod, he rests a hand between the younger man's shoulder blades. "Why are you here then?" He glances suspiciously over at Ryder, who ignores him pointedly as he wipes at his mouth with a towel.
"I wanted to check on Mike and Alex," he admits. "Did you see what happened? Big Show-?"
"Ah. Si, I did see that," he murmurs, face crunching up distastefully as he squeezes Ricardo's shoulder. "Don't worry, mi amigo. He'll pay this Sunday, for everything that he's done to you and everyone." Neither of them notice the surprised look on Zack's face at this, the man- also a recent victim of Big Show- finally witnessing their change in attitude first hand, and surprising himself by believing in their sincerity. When Ricardo nods, believing him immediately, easily, he smiles faintly. "Now, my match is soon. Are you ready to go prepare?"
Ricardo starts to nod before remembering. "Oh, just one moment, El Patron." He looks around quickly until he finds a pad of paper and pen on the trainer's desk and scribbles down Morrison's message as hurriedly as he can, with it still looking legible. Propping it up on the table near Mike's cot, he then turns to his employer. "Ok, lo siento, I'm ready now."
Once they're gone, Zack coughs once more into his fist and shakes his head. "What do you know, bros, I guess people really can change, even in this business."
Awhile later, Mike stirs upon hearing the office door slamming open hard enough to leave a crater in the wall, a loud, grating voice yelling into the room. "Hey! Hey. Check AJ out, would you? I'm fine, she's the one who-"
"Babe, I'm fine," a fondly exasperated voice that leaves him wide awake and fumbling to sit up through the pure agony stabbing through his shoulder all the way to his neck speaks up, their eyes locking from across the room as soon as his are open. Her voice grows more subdued as she says quietly, "Big E. caught me, nothing even hurts. You're the one who had the match against Kane, let him check you-"
The trainer, ignoring them both, calls his assistant over and urges him to examine AJ while he looks Dolph over, the two then switching once he's certain Dolph's not suffering anything serious. The trio thankfully doesn't remain for too long, AJ idly stroking her fingers along her boyfriend's arm to sooth him as he tenses at the prodding and poking against his match-weary body.
Even though he knows it's only a few minutes, it's torture for Mike to watch and listen to their saccharine sweetness, so he forces himself to his feet, things going full circle as he ignores the trainer's reprimands and makes his way over to Alex's cot, relieved to find his friend conscious, though blurry eyed and pale. "Hey, kid," he whispers, turning sideways and sitting gingerly on the edge so they're facing each other. "Good to see you're awake."
Alex blinks a couple of times before trying to focus on the ice packs covering his friend's arm, eyes watering at the strain. "Are you... ok?" he asks slowly, licking his lips.
Mike nods. "Yeah, man. Hurts, but I'll be fine. How about you?"
"The same as you," he breathes, glancing over to where Dolph, AJ and Big E are lurking around, the trainer talking lowly to them. "Are you...?" He falls quiet when Miz shakes his head sharply, fingers tightening against the thin sheet covering the cot. "Sorry."
Finally the three leave, Dolph sneering at Mike's back on his way out, arm trailing around AJ's shoulders possessively as they go, and Alex turns his head to stare worriedly at his former NXT pro. Once the door clicks shut and the trainer wanders off, grumbling to his assistant, Mike leans over, trying to take some of the pressure off of his throbbing shoulder. "Maybe you should lay back down, Mike. You look..." Alex whispers, his voice trailing off when pained blue eyes glare right at him, stealing his words away in a rush.
"You still want to know what she told me last week?" he asks, a bitter smile trailing along his lips. Alex can do no more but stare at him and he laughs angrily, having had a week to think about it, the salt in the wound from watching them together just now in the office leaving him feeling all the more raw and jaded. "She wants... she wants to be friends. She tells me she's all about Dolph right now, and she... she doesn't want to go from guy to guy anymore. She wants to be different for 2013. She wants... him." He stares at his hands, lips trembling slightly. "I finally realize I might be interested in... something serious and she, she just... She chose him." He shrugs angrily, barely wincing against the renewed rush of pain in his shoulder that follows. "Damnedest thing is I was listening to her talking, explaining all of these things to me, and all I could think was... I deserve this, because in the beginning, I only showed interest in her because I was using her. Who wouldn't choose him after all of that? I brought it on myself, and... I care enough about her to want her happy. So I agreed. But I... I don't know how..." His words die away as he trembles and shakes his head, eyes closing tightly as if to keep the emotions inside.
There are no words. Alex, still scrambled from the KO punch, can barely think straight. All he manages is to quickly sit up and wrap an arm around his friend, holding him together as he fails to do for himself. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, catching sight of Ricardo's rushed note facing him, only able to see that it mentions Morrison. Resolving to point it out to Mike once he's calmer, he simply runs a hand through his friend's short hair and waits, riding out the storm as both injured men breathe raggedly against each other's shoulders.