The rest of Mike's week is comprised of commentating Main Event and more media for Wrestlemania and Marine 3, his schedule busy enough that he doesn't really have time to think about all of the things that have been weighing him down the past few months. He does take a few minutes to check in on Alex now and again, make sure he's hanging in there after Kane's attack, but the kid seems like his normal self so Miz goes about his business, fulfilling all of his obligations until it's time for Raw.
He and Alex drive there together and spend the time before Mike's triple threat match wandering through the hallways, mostly quiet as they just take it all in, the buzz that proceeds Wrestlemania infecting them despite both men having no spot on the card thus far- until the air is taken over by something else. Something horrible. Piercing, desperate screams of agony that send both men running to the nearest monitor, Mike skidding to a stop as he stares on in horror at Ricardo Rodriguez writhing around on the ground, gripping at his ankle and begging the swarming referees to not touch him. The camera only gets a brief glimpse of a sweaty, dazed Del Rio struggling to stand and stagger over, before it goes to commercial.
They stand in awkward, tense silence before Mike slaps Alex on the shoulder. "Come on." They make it to the gorilla as Swagger and Colter make their way through and Mike's suspicious are proved as he glowers at the "True American". "That was you?" he snaps, waving back towards the ring where they can still hear Ricardo's cries of pain through the curtain.
"Wanna make something of it?" the deranged man asks, glowering down at him. They stand there, eyes locked in mutual disdain. "You're honestly friends with those... illegals?" he spits out, disgust in each word. "It's so typical of you, Miz. You're no better than all of the others who can't stand up for their rights, their homeland. You have no pride."
Mike continues to stare at him, thrown speechless as the heartless man looks almost pleased as Ricardo's painful cries continue on, until Colter finally intercedes, muttering something to Swagger and guiding him away, not wanting to be around when Del Rio makes it through with his ring announcer on the stretcher that they'd put him on. Mike is so angry that he's almost trembling, his eyes an icy cool blue as the curtains finally part and the group of referees appear, pushing Ricardo's stretcher along the uneven tiles, Alberto's hands on either side of the younger man's face, murmuring to his pale, sweaty friend. Miz and Alex join them, Alberto looking up suspiciously but relaxing slightly when he sees who it is, Mike nodding grimly at him as he takes in the look of shocked horror in the Mexican aristocrat's eyes.
The younger man is still whimpering, his hands trembling as he covers his face, soft mumbles too quiet for any of the men present to catch. Mike, not sure what else to do, rests his hand briefly on Ricardo's shoulder, squeezing slightly, catching his eye too when the ring announcer peeks through his fingers at him, tears of pain dripping down his face. Not a word is said as they arrive at the trainer's office and they begin to set up what equipment they have to run a quick exam on the poor man and his ankle. "I want a real doctor with full equipment looking at him, I'm taking him to the ER," Del Rio says after a moment. The trainer looks up, still in the middle of dictating where things go, but his mind is made up. "He's in too much pain, this is taking too long-"
"Alberto, you'd just have to wait in the ER too," Mike says softly, shaking his head as Ricardo whimpers again, barely focused on what they're saying.
"You clearly forget who you're talking to," he snaps through gritted teeth. Turning his attention back to the injured man, he takes a deep breath and sighs, cupping his face until their eyes lock. "Amigo, I want to take you to the ER. We'll get this sorted as quickly as possible, alright? It won't be like last time, I promise you." The two murmur back and forth briefly in Spanish, Mike and Alex exchanging glances as the trainer steps back, displeased with it all. Finally Ricardo nods in agreement and watches tearfully as Alberto immediately goes into action, ordering the men lingering around to help push the stretcher back out to the parking lot where an ambulance is always waiting for chance injuries like this.
Mike follows them to the exit, pausing. He can't go with, not with the triple threat match for the Intercontinental title lingering, but Alex has nothing scheduled for the night. "Hey, kid," he says quietly. "Go with them, huh? Help keep Ricardo distracted for me?"
Alex nods quickly, knowing that Mike's grown to think of Ricardo as a friend, and trusts Alex to do what he can to make things easier for the younger man. "I'll call you with news when we have it," he tells him before taking off at a run to clear this with Alberto and the EMTs.
"Thanks," Mike calls after him, watching from the doorway as Alex hashes it out with Del Rio for a bit, their conversation ending when a still frantic Ricardo reaches out from the stretcher, snagging Del Rio's arm. Finally Alberto concedes and the two men enter the ambulance after the stretcher, sitting on either side of Ricardo. He closes his eyes and returns to the locker room to begin preparing for his match, though he doubts he'll be able to focus on it at all, the ring announcer's horrific screams trapped in his mind.
He's right, though he tries and even comes close a couple of times- in the end his distraction and everything else going on in the match helps Barrett to sneak in and get a cheap schoolboy pin in on him, Mike staring up at the lights in disbelief at how quickly that happened. Jericho seems as annoyed as he as they walk back up the ramp, but Miz's mind is far away from the match's conclusion. "Hey, Jericho," he says once they're backstage again.
"What, Junior?" he asks, shoulders tensing like he thinks Mike might be looking to start something.
"You know Ricardo, right?"
"Yes, he was on The Highlight Reel a few weeks ago. Hyperactive, odd guy but seemed alright. Why?"
"When you wrestle Swagger this Friday," Mike says slowly, almost not believing he's requesting anything of the man who'd been his opponent barely five minutes earlier, "don't let him get back up. Alright?"
Jericho's grin is quick and more than a little dangerous, recognizing a friend's need for vengeance in the former WWE champion. "I was planning that already," he admits. "But since you asked so nicely..." He smirks. "I'll make sure to."
Mike nods, watching him leave, and he's about to return yet again to the locker room when he almost runs straight into- AJ. He swallows, staring down at her for a moment before remembering through the fog in his mind how exactly they'd left things, the tight, pained look on her face finally registering with him. "Sorry," he mumbles, brushing past her. He'd overheard, while waiting for his match and half-listening for any possible updates on Ricardo, her terms on a tag title match for Big E and Ziggler against Team Hell No, and he wonders if Kane and Daniel can hold it together long enough to retain their titles at Mania. The few weeks he'd spent involved with the tag team months back had left him semi-invested in their friendship, something about their dysfunction reminding him a little of how he and Morrison had been in the early days, but he'd gotten distracted by AJ and then Ricardo's troubles, all of it now just a wild jumble in his mind as every part of his life seems to be collapsing in on each other in strange ways.
He's only taken a few steps, though, when he remembers something else and looks over his shoulder at the girl as she still lingers in the shadows, head tilted as she stares at him. "Happy birthday, AJ." He almost expects her to lunge after him, screaming and striking out, but she doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He shrugs tiredly and continues walking, relieved and dejected all at once. He's almost done stuffing things in his bag when his phone rings, quickly answering. "Hello?"
"Hey," Alex greets him, his voice low and solemn. "Did they announce it on TV?"
"Yes," he confirms. "Broken ankle... Did Del Rio bribe a tech or something? Those results were in within half an hour, at least."
Alex pauses, chuckles weakly. "I didn't dare to ask, but I'm pretty sure..." They both sit silently for a minute, Alex's breaths crackling against the phone. "Anyway I'm calling because once he's released, Ricardo is going back to Florida to rest at home. Del Rio wants me to fly back with him though, since he has media the next few days and Ricardo is insisting he doesn't cancel them because of this."
Mike thinks about his best friend accompanying the ring announcer home and nods slightly, knowing that Alex understands better than anyone how it feels having to be stuck at home injured while the wrestling world continues on without him, since that very thing had just happened to him a few months ago. "Ok, man." His eyes fall on Alex's duffel bag at his feet and he tilts his head, doubting that the younger man had even remembered leaving his stuff here. "I'll drop your bag off at the hospital when I leave."
Alex's sudden sigh causes Mike to chuckle slightly. "I forgot about that. It's a red-eye too, I would've been in so much trouble if I left that there." He laughs. "Thanks, Mike."
"Leave it to the Awesome One to straighten out your problems for you," he teases lightly. "I'll see you soon." He suspects that, if they're talking about releasing Ricardo already, he's doing a fair deal better than the broken, crying mess that Swagger had callously left behind on the floor of the arena a couple of hours ago, and Mike's relieved that he'll be able to replace those images and sounds rattling around in his head with a more stabilized Ricardo as he shoulders both his bag and Alex's and heads for the exit.