It's almost Christmas, Mike finds himself thinking, a small smile spreading across his face as he stares at a calendar. It'll be his and AJ's first together as a couple and, as much fun as Thanksgiving had been for them, he truly looks forward to seeing the look on her face as he presents her with the gifts he'd picked out for her, kissing her under mistletoe and ignoring the catcalls from Alex and John. He'd always enjoyed the holidays well enough, but now he has a whole other reason to, feeling somewhat overwhelmed with happiness at being able to share it with her and the group of friends he'd kept or gained over the last year.
Unfortunately, not everyone in the WWE feels the same as he; the further he goes down the hallway, the chillier the air seems to get, a distinct vibe about the area. It stops feeling like Christmas, a spooky undertone to everything that fits in with Halloween more. He frowns as he hears running footsteps coming his way and panting breaths, Mike's dark blue eyes darting here and there while he waits for whoever it is to show themselves. It doesn't take long, Miz's breath seizing in his throat as he realizes- Ricardo Rodriguez is dashing down the hall towards him, shoes only just keeping traction against the tile floor as he almost runs past Mike without looking, only the competitor's fast reflexes allowing him to grab and stop him from running face first into the wall at the end of the hall. "Ricardo!" he gasps out, spinning him back around to face him and planting his hands on his shoulders to keep him in one place. "What's going on!?"
"The Wyatts," the pale, sweaty man pants out, clutching his wrists. "They're coming- we need, we need to run! Now, Mike!" He looks so desperate, so horrified, that it makes Mike's chest ache for him and he nods, all too aware of the kind of fear the Wyatts can inspire in a person.
"Alright, alright, come on!" There aren't many options considering they're close to the end of this particular hall but he grasps Ricardo's wrist and drags him to the left, down a small hallway leading away from the exit, stopping when they find an empty, dark room. He pushes the ring annoucer inside before shutting the door tightly behind them, ducking into the shadows to stand side by side with the trembling man, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to calm him. "Shhh, we'll be ok," he's whispering to him, when he cuts himself off- he suddenly hears them too, his fingers digging into Ricardo's flesh in fear as the man shudders and fights not to whimper.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Bray's lilting voice singsongs, too close to the door they're hiding behind for comfort. "Oh, little ones, do you really think you can hide from me?"
Ricardo's breathing is harsh and rough, echoing through Mike's skull, and the Awesome One pushes him backwards, trying to get him further into the room while keeping his body between the younger man's and the door to try to give him some sort of a chance should the men enter the room, but he suspects that the Wyatts are unencumbered by darkness, seeming to embrace it as much as the equally as worrisome trio, The Shield, if not more. Finally he inadvertently sandwiches Ricardo between himself and the opposing wall, the ring announcer gasping at the abrupt impact as a doorknob digs into his spine and Mike acts quickly, hearing the knob spring back into position once Ricardo moves gingerly away.
He can only guess that it's some sort of a closet but it'll do, he suspects, as he forces it open and pushes Ricardo bodily into the room, shutting the door behind him. "Sorry, man," he mutters. "Consider it my Christmas gift to you... Free pass from the Wyatts..." He stands tall as the mutters of Bray continue, the three men still patiently waiting in the hallway for their targets to show themselves or make some sort of mistake. Finally, he seems to have outwaited them as Bray's mutters grow fainter, the three men walking away from the door, and he closes his eyes, sighing in relief. He's just turned back to the closet to free Ricardo, however, when there's a loud bang on the outside wall leading away from the room and he jumps, knocking something over and causing a huge clatter.
He knows it's over, he's found, as Bray's echoing laughter resumes, mocking him as he waits yet again for the three men to storm inside, and they do, prowling through the darkness towards him. He barely sucks in a breath before rancid breath washes over his face as thick fingers grip his hair, tugging the short strands as they pull him closer, a shuddering sensation drifting down his spine while it feels like someone is staring at him, unhindered by the lack of light. Please, just don't find Ricardo, he thinks as he feels his fear-frozen body twisted, Bray's lips pressing against his forehead, sickeningly gentle, before, once more, he feels the bite of Sister Abigail's kiss, unconsciousness taking every other sense away from him immediately.
As soon as he's out for the count, Harper and Rowan's tall bodies converge upon the door hiding Ricardo, moving to kick it open, when Bray's voice, quiet but forceful, echoes through the room. "Stop. We have what we've came for," he says simply, the two men immediately leaving the door behind and rejoining him, lifting Mike up bodily between them to carry him out, as they have done in the past to Kane, and Daniel Bryan.
The only difference there was Kane had nearly burnt their woods down entirely until they had no choice but to kick him out, leaving him to regroup and find his way back to the WWE after shaking off the Wyatts' control, which had taken time and stripped most of his own supernatural essence away, leaving him as nothing more than the Authority's Director of Operations... and Daniel, as Kane's former tag partner, had been allowed to remain living his life, Bray digging his influence into the shorter man with his words more than his actions, learning his lesson from the mistake of letting Kane's raging anger anywhere near the home they all lived peacefully in. Miz, having no such worrisome affiliations, wouldn't be so lucky. Bray finally has what he's always looked for, another brother to join the flock. "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night," he sings softly as he follows the two men out of the arena, eyes locked on Mike's limp form slumped between Rowan and Harper's bodies.
Alberto Del Rio frowns as he looks around the arena, wanting to find Ricardo so they can talk. Things are still uncomfortable between them but they'd made some in-roads at TLC, the ring annoucer finally looking like he could perhaps forgive him. Which, he suspects, is a Christmas Miracle all in itself, considering all of the horrible things he'd done to the younger man, especially the last couple of months. However, there's no sign of the ring announcer, even when he asks various people if they'd seen him around, adding to his worry. He's about to go look for Miz or Riley when he turns a corner and runs right into Alex, who looks troubled as well.
"Have you seen Ricardo?" they ask each other at the same time, both pausing and staring at the other strangely. "No," they yet again say at once.
"I haven't seen Mike in awhile, either," Alex mutters, though Alberto doesn't necessarily care about him. "God, where could they be? Do you think something's happened?" Considering Alberto feels about as worried as Alex looks, he suspects that something did happen, and it must show on his face because A-Ri's falls in response. "Will you help me look for them? Please? I know you don't care, but-"
"I'm worried about Ricardo, and if he's with Miz, then yes, fine, I'll look for him too. But my number one priority is mi amigo," he tells Alex simply, eyes flashing when the other wrestler nods grimly, looking annoyed but seeming to understand. "Let's go." They search the whole building, even examining where The Shield had been rumored to be hiding out this week, but both man's hope falters more the further they go without finding anything, nor receiving any clues from the people they ask along the way.
Ricardo's number of enemies had dropped considerably when he'd stopped being affiliated with Alberto, but Mike has more than enough for both of them, perhaps only 3MB seen as more annoying in the locker room. Though Alex is sure very few of them would honestly resort to kidnapping or whatever this might end up being in the end- The Shield and The Wyatts being the main ones he can think of at this point in time... which does absolutely nothing to comfort him. The thought of Ricardo and/or Mike being held by either of those two factions, scary and dangerous in very different ways, is so horrible that he wants to hide somewhere and refuse to believe it until his roommate and former NXT pro are back, safe and sound, but he knows that would do neither of them any good- they need all of the help they can get now, to find them, bring them back from wherever they might be held at safely.
They're peering down a particularly shadowy hallway, Alex shuddering against a weird feeling creeping up his spine, when Alberto glances into a dark room whose door is yawning open, glancing around inside. "Nothing," he hisses, about to back away and move on to the next when- "Wait, wait." He peers back inside and listens intently, Alex hovering behind him anxiously.
"Wha-"
"Shut up, perro!" he snaps, ducking into the room. "Ricardo? Mi amigo, are you-" Alex has just entered the room, affronted by Alberto's attitude, when he hears it too- rough thuds against the door just visible in the dull light coming from the hallway. Alberto storms towards it and grips the doorknob, realizing that the door is jammed, perhaps by being shut too roughly, and he gives it a sharp tug, making it come loose from the frame with a protesting groan. He stares inside for only a second before dropping to his knees inside of the closet, choking out, "Ricardo!"
Alex, only just acting fast enough to flip the light switch so he can actually see, then races over to the closet and stares down at his roommate as Alberto hovers over him, helping him to sit up from where he'd been sprawled out across the floor, kicking aimlessly at the door. "What happened?!" he demands, slipping closer to help as Ricardo sways even though he's barely in a sitting position. "Ricardo?"
"El Patron," he chokes out, worrying both men anew. He hadn't called Alberto that in months, since he'd been fired as his ring announcer, so for him to say it now...
Alberto reaches out and cups his face, trying to force him to look him in the eye. "Mi amigo," he breathes. "Hey, hey, look at me-" But Ricardo seems incapable of focusing, his gaze far away and dazed. Alberto mutters in Spanish and drags Ricardo closer, holding him, stroking his hair as he tries to comfort him, help him to stand up. "Mi amigo? It's ok, you're safe now." But they're both pretty sure- it looks like the younger man is concussed, and Alex tries to help support him with a hand on his back as Alberto guides him out of the closet and through the room, Ricardo trembling harder the further he walks, squinting against the light.
"Just a little further," Alex urges him on, ignoring Del Rio's harsh gaze as he tries to ease his roommate to the hallway. "We've got you." Ricardo makes it, somehow, and they help him to sit down in the hallway to rest for a few moments, Alberto peering back inside and biting his lip. Something about the room... there's an eerie feeling about it, it alone reason enough to drag the injured man out as quickly as possible. The hallway seems to echo with the sensation, too, but not as intensely. "They have Mike, don't they?" A-Ri asks Del Rio after a few painful moments of watching Ricardo blink blankly, pale and clammy.
Alberto has just opened his mouth to answer when the ring announcer acts, grabbing Alex by the collar and dragging him down to his level, eyes dark and deep as he seems to regain awareness, if only for a moment. "The Wyatts," he whispers, staring intensely at him. "Help Mike. Help him, you have to help him-" But as quickly as it comes, it fades away, the injured man lost once more in the sea of disorientation caused by the concussion as he releases Alex, who stumbles back until Del Rio actually reaches out and steadies him, kneeling down once more by his best friend and pulling him off of the floor, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and dragging him towards the trainer's office as he had done a million times in the past, muttering comfortingly to him.
Alex scrubs at his face desperately before following them, lip trembling as he thinks about what the Wyatts could be doing to Mike. The last time had been so ugly, so horrible- and to see Ricardo so injured, and not even know how it happened... He groans softly and looks around, desperate for some clue, some way to find his friend. "Hang in there, Mike. I'm not sure how, or when, but we'll find you. I promise..."
"Explain it again," John Morrison orders, already throwing clothes into a bag as he tries again to make sense of what Alex is imparting about the Wyatts and Ricardo Rodriguez, how Miz is now missing. "Alright," he mutters, subdued. "I get it. I get it..." He leans forward and zips his bag in determination. "I'll be there in a few hours. Alex? He's going to be alright. You know that, right?" When the younger man mutters confirmation, he smirks. "Good. Hang on to that. I'll see you soon." He hangs up and shakes his head, quickly shouldering his bag before storming out of his apartment. "How do you get yourself wrapped up in this crap, Mike?"
The flight is frustrating, full of fussy children and obnoxious people taking full advantage of the new leniency on cell phone usage when all he wants is to get off of the plane and start the search for his best friend, but he can't exactly do that when they're thousands of miles above ground. Even his parkour abilities aren't that great. And so he sits, and he stares at the seat in front of him, and he thinks. He had heard something about the Wyatt's compound so he had looked it up online, finding raw footage taken by some cameraman, the men living in the middle of nowhere, the house creaky and looking like it could collapse at any moment. If he hadn't known better, he would think it was some horror movie he was watching, but no...
The thought of Mike stranded there leaves him jittery and desperate, but there's nothing he can do for now. So he waits, counting the minutes until this flight lands. His meditating isn't much help right now. Mostly because he had also found clips of what the Wyatts had done to Miz in the past that he'd only heard about in the past- abducting him and chaining him up and writing Liar across his chest... When he lands in Florida, his normally calm body is nearly vibrating with a determination to get started on the rescue mission, have Mike home well before Christmas, and Alex greets him with a grim look on his face. "Hey, A-Ri," he says somberly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Anything new?"
"No," he says. "Thanks for coming here, we decided to stop at Florida for a little bit before figuring out where the Wyatt family compound is. Mostly because we wanted to make sure Ricardo is settled in before we actually do anything."
"No problem," John shrugs as they walk towards Alex's waiting car. "How's he doing?"
"Trainer says he has a moderate concussion, it looks like he hit his head on something getting away from the Wyatts, and he's a bit disoriented from it, but after he rests for awhile, he should be ok... and who knows, maybe he'll be able to tell us something that could help Mike." Alex doesn't look like he fully believes this but he forces a smile anyway, clearly desperate to cling to any chance Miz could have to get out of this situation in one piece.
"That'd be nice," John nods, slipping into the passenger's seat and twisting to look at Alex. "But in the meantime... what're we going to do to figure this out on our own? I saw those clips that WWE aired of the Wyatts' compound. I guess the cameraman could give us some hint regarding where it's located? Have you talked to him yet?"
Alex winces as he stares out at the road leading to the highway that'll take them to the residential area from the airport. "Well, about that-" he's starting to say when the second thing he was dreading discussing with John comes to the Shaman of Sexy's attention, causing him to interrupt Alex.
"Um, Alex, I haven't been to your apartment much, but I remember the way to it well enough. This isn't it. What gives?" he wonders, frowning as he looks around at the fancier houses surrounding them.
"Yeah, well," he mutters, floundering as he tries to change gears from explaining one thing to the other. "About that. Del Rio and Ricardo are... kind of friends again, it's a long story, but Alberto helped find Ricardo and he insisted on him staying at his house, so Sofia can take care of him while we all search for Mike."
"Wait, Del Rio wants to help us look for Mike?" John asks, wondering what alternate universe he's ended up in when he walked off of that plane. "Pinch me, I think I'm hallucinating."
"If you are, so are the rest of us," Alex laughs weakly. "But anyway, as I was trying to originally explain... the man who went into the Wyatts' compound..."
John is far from thrilled as he exits Alex's car ten minutes later, slamming the door shut and leaning against the roof of the car to stare, perplexed, at Alberto's spacious grounds and home. "Damn," he mutters, barely caring about the size of it all as his thoughts continue to circle around what he'd just been told. "So... the man made it out of the compound, even brought the footage back for Raw, but... had a breakdown within a couple of weeks?"
"Yeah," Alex nods, burying his hands into his jacket pockets and wondering, wherever Mike might be, if he's cold, as he probably hadn't been dressed that warm when the men had grabbed him... "By what I've been told, he just lost it one night after one of Bray's little speeches. I think maybe something about Follow the Buzzards brought it out in him, but how the hell am I supposed to know?" He sighs and leads John inside Alberto's home, smiling at a woman who greets them at the door, her dark eyes locked on Morrison as she holds a hand out towards them. "John, this is Sofia Mendez. Sofia, this is John Morrison."
"Hey," John greets her with an easy going smile.
"Hola, Senors," she inclines her head soberly. "May I take your jackets?"
Alex smiles at her and nods, allowing her to take his, John following suit after an awkward moment, and they follow her down the hall, where she stuffs their clothing in a nearby coat closet before turning towards the bedrooms, the two of them quickly mimicking the woman's soft step as she rests a hand on what used to be Ricardo's bedroom door when he lived here, slowly pushing the door open to look in. John's a little surprised to find the ring announcer asleep in there, considering everything that had happened the last few months, thinking perhaps Del Rio would've opted to put him in a different room to keep him from panicking or becoming distressed, but he seems comfortable and Alex says little as he walks in to check on his roommate. "Gracias, Sofia," he whispers to the woman, who smiles at him and waits at the door, wanting to see how Ricardo is doing as well.
"Why is he in here?" John asks quietly, looking down at the dark haired man as he sleeps on.
"We considered moving him to another room, but the only other rooms down here are Del Rio and Sofia's. The bedroom Del Rio has set aside for his brother was considered for a moment, but Memo is going to be visiting for the holidays soon and Alberto didn't want to move Ricardo there just to have to move him again upon Memo's arrival. Our decision was made a little easier when he woke up in here earlier and didn't competely lose it, so I think he'll be ok in here for now. It won't be forever, either way. We'll find Mike and things will go back to normal." Alex stands at the head of the bed, gingerly stroking a hand through Ricardo's soft hair, recently washed with some help from Sofia.
John's just nodded in full-fledged agreement when he hears footsteps and looks up to find Del Rio peering in at them, his lips twisting in some aggravation at seeing them with his best friend, it all fading away when he steps closer and sees just how content Ricardo seems. He does, however, step aside and let the Mexican aristocrat come closer, remembering how badly off the younger man had been following what Del Rio had done, when John had taken him in at his apartment for the weeks leading up to Summerslam and a bit beyond it. He hadn't seen Alberto often since being fired, truly, so this is awkward and strange, John having more reasons to dislike him since his own career, when he was one of Del Rio's favorite targets, but the Mexican aristocrat doesn't exactly seem as Morrison remembered him- subdued and almost... tired as he stares down at the resting younger man.
"Has he woke up?"
"Not since this morning, Senor, when you helped feed him breakfast," Sofia whispers back, stepping into the room a bit more to answer her employer.
"I see," he mutters. "The sleep is good for him, I suppose. Gracias, Sofia," he tells the housekeeper, trying to keep the emotions out of his voice and failing as she rests a hand on his upper arm.
"Of course, Senor." She smiles at him before leaning over Ricardo, eyes soft as she checks his temperature with the back of her hand, relieved to find that he's not feverish. "I'll be waking him up shortly for lunch. If you want me to notify you-"
"Si, por favor," Alberto nods immediately. "For now, we'll be in the living room, sorting out what to do about finding the Wyatts." She nods and he sweeps out of the room, not waiting for Alex or John to follow him.
Alex pats Ricardo on the chest gently before leaving the room, John close behind him. "Del Rio's been very hands-on since we found Ricardo in that closet," he whispers to him, aware that Del Rio can probably hear them. "Any time Ricardo needs to be awake, he insists on being there. Somehow, despite everything, it seems to be helping to comfort Ricardo, so you know... I'm glad that he is here. Even if it's a little weird..." He falls silent as they enter the living room, Morrison only momentarily marveling at the pure size of this place.
"So what's the plan?" he asks idly, leaning against the doorframe and staring at Del Rio, who has just finished a phone call, placing his cell phone down on the nearest table before turning to face them.
"I have convinced the psychiatric hospital that WWE has placed the cameraman in to allow us a few minutes with him. Perhaps he can tell us how he found the compound... or at least tell us the general area." He sneers at the vaguely impressed look on Alex's face, his own request denied outright every time he had asked either the hospital itself or WWE management for assistance in getting answers. "We will be allowed in briefly this afternoon, as long as we don't disturb the patients."
"Great," Alex mutters. What about three men he doesn't know coming in to ask him questions about the Wyatts could possibly disturb the man? Especially when you throw in Del Rio's temper...
It's dark and cold. Miz can't stop shivering, though he tries his hardest. But he also can't even move, much less find any sort of warmth, so he lays back against what he guesses is a wall and tries to think, struggling to remember... what had happened... Suddenly he gasps at a few memories that choose that moment to flood back, trying to spit out "Ricardo" just to find that his mouth is gagged, no words making it far past his throat. His eyes widen in the darkness and he flails anew, feeling something tight tear at the flesh of his wrists and ankles with each movement. The only senses he has left is hearing and touch, both of which are violated at once as rough hands grab him by the arms and tug him up, a familiar voice, starting off softly and growing louder the longer it speaks. Bray Wyatt, he remembers, the voice only haunting his nightmares since that night months ago that he had been chained up, the word liar written across his chest before he'd been left to be found by his girlfriend and her enforcer.
"I promised you we would always be able to find you, didn't I, little lamb?" Bray whispers, his breath washing over Mike's face as he leans in closer, laughing in his demented way. "I apologize for it takin' us so long to rescue you from what your life had become, but we did, 'n' now you're where you belong. Where you've always belonged." His touch is soft, almost loving, against his cheek, trailing lower, and Mike flails again just to receive a punch to the gut, followed by another to his face, which whips his head back, his neck protesting the pain. "Don't do that again," Bray warns him quietly. "We just wanna help you, we just wanna help everyone. And we will, with time. There's no point in fightin' us."
Mike falls silent and still as Bray slowly pulls himself up and walks off, leaving him alone with someone- he can't tell who, probably Harper or Rowan, their breathing loud and all he can hear as he tries to ease the strain on his wrists from the ropes still biting into his flesh. He allows his aching face to fall forward, trying to block out the sound of the other man. Ricardo, he thinks, fear for the ring announcer far exceeding the fear he feels for himself. God, please, don't be trapped here with me somewhere... please...
Alberto stands near his best friend's bed, watching as Sofia gently helps him to sit up, the young man blurry eyed and more than a little confused as he looks around at them all, Alex and John in the doorway and watching as he re-orients himself with what's going on around him. He licks his lips and yawns slightly, scrubbing gingerly at his face just to wince when he brushes his fingers against his bruised forehead, the housekeeper tsking softly as she pulls his hand away to keep him from hurting himself further. "Sofia," he murmurs.
"Yes, Senor, it's alright," she tells him soothingly, helping him to lean back against his pillows. "Are you hungry?"
He shakes his head, eyes locked on Alex. "Mike," he breathes out. "Find him. You have to- you have to find him, Alex."
His roommate walks closer and rests a hand on the troubled man's shoulders, trying to comfort him as well. "We will, Ricardo. Don't worry, I promise you. Mike will be fine, he's too stubborn to let some hicks get the better of him for too long. You know this." Ricardo's eyes are dark and large, too young looking for his nearly 28 years as he stares up at Alex, and it hurts him to stare into them for too long. "John's here," he finally says, pointing over to where Morrison is standing. "He's going to help us find him... but can you answer some questions for us?" The time until they can go see the cameraman is passing by much too slowly and Alex thinks perhaps getting some answers from Ricardo will help ease some of his jitters, the not knowing eating away at all of them.
"I'll try," the injured ring announcer murmurs. "I don't... remember... some stuff is foggy, but... to help Mike..."
"Ok," Alex whispers, sitting down next to him and purposely ignoring the warning glare Del Rio is leveling at him. "Can you tell us what you do remember?"
Ricardo glances around once more, catching the encouragement on Sofia's face, before nodding plaintively. "I was helping Renee Young prepare for an interview segment," he explains faintly. "She was having problems with her microphone, but it started working once I showed her a couple of tricks, so I left to see if there was anything in catering that looked good. I had only walked for, maybe, a minute, when the lights in the hallway flickered, then died away. The next thing I knew, Bray Wyatt's laughter was echoing from every direction and- I didn't know what to do. So I began to run. Mike stopped me before I could run past him and once I was able to tell him what happened, he tried to hide me. We went into this dark room, and... for a minute, things were quiet, but then... we could hear him- Bray- and Mike was standing between me and the door, and... I don't remember much beyond that." Fretful tears fill his eyes and he shakes his head, looking up at Alex worriedly, as if afraid he'd disappointed them all. "Lo siento, I wish I could remember-"
"No, no, mi amigo, you did fine," Alberto tells him softly, patting his hand. "Relax." Sofia bustles around then, collecting a bowl of what looks like soup and bread with a glass of milk, sitting down in front of the distressed young man, talking softly to him in Spanish as Alberto takes Alex's place on the bed, his presence being the only thing that encouraged Ricardo to even attempt to eat earlier in the day.
"We'll be in the living room," Alex tells him lowly, smiling at Ricardo as his former employer nods and waves an empty spoon at the younger man, he and Sofia speaking back and forth in their native language as the younger man watches them with a weary smile, eyes still filled with sadness and guilt at not being more help during this whole situation.
Alex looks up at John as he shakes his head. "I don't know," he mutters. "What are we going to do if the cameraman isn't able to tell us anything? How will we help Mike then?"
"One step at a time," John says quietly. "We'll figure it out after talking to the cameraman, but we can't lose hope now." Alex nods as John squeezes his shoulder, the two of them sitting side by side on the couch, lost in their thoughts, until Del Rio and Sofia leave Ricardo's bedroom, the housekeeper taking the mostly empty dishes back into the kitchen.
"We should go now," the Mexican aristocrat tells them blandly as he spins his car keys around his fingers. "By the time we arrive at the institution, it should be about the time we've been cleared to talk to him."
"Right," Alex breathes after a quick glance at his watch. "Let's go." He's equally looking forward to and dreading this all at the same time, unable to move past the fact that, what they're told could either guide them to Mike or make the journey impossible forever.
All he wants is his friend back.
When they arrive at the hospital, a nurse meets them and, expecting them, leads them back to the visitor's room once they introduce themselves, pausing outside of the door. "He still tends to get anxious or scared," she tells them grimly. "If I tell you to leave, leave. Understand?" The three men nod at varying degrees of reluctance and she examines them for a moment before using her work ID to unlock and open the door, stepping aside so they can enter. It's clean and almost too calm inside for such an establishment, throwing Alex for a moment, but when their eyes fall on the man, they know they're in the right place. Soft mumbles are audible over the TV droning on the opposite wall, and when they approach him, he glances up, his eyes a little too wide and his fingers fumbling against his shirt, gaze quickly skittering back to the floor where it looks like he's counting the squares in the tile.
Alex's doubt grows until the gaunt, shaking man looks up once more and stares at him, a strange look on his face. "I know you," he mutters, words slow and shaky. "You... you're... Alex Riley."
"That's right," he manages to spit out, eyes lost in the horror filled irises staring up at him. "Alex Riley. It's good to see you again, Pete." He recognizes him now, as one of the cameramen who had been nice to him when he was new and starting out, unsure how to handle some of the weirder shoots for that happen from time to time. It only makes all of this worse. He kneels down by the chair that Pete is sitting in and smiles warily up at him. "I know you've been through a lot, but if you could help me... one more time...?"
"I'll try," he breathes, gaze flickering from John to Alberto and back, before resting uncertainly on Alex.
"Great, thank you," he tells him. "My friend... Miz, do you remember him?" The cameraman nods wearily, twisting his hands together anxiously. "He was taken by the Wyatts." Pete's face tenses in discomfort as he whines lowly in his throat, Alex worrying that the nurse will kick them out before he can get answers. "I know you probably don't want to think about it, but we need to find him, and save him. Can you tell us anything about how you found them to begin with?"
Pete closes his eyes and shakes his head, trembling. "No, no," he mutters. "Not... you can't save him. Not now." His eyes shoot open once more, causing Alex to jerk as he stares down at him. "It's over, he's gone."
"I can't believe that, Pete. He's one of my best friends. I need to try. And you're the only one I can think of to help me. Please..." But Pete starts rocking back and forth, shaking his head desperately, muttering rapidly, and the nurse approaches them, a displeased curve to her lips that can only mean one thing. Alex tries once more, leaning in a fraction of an inch closer. "Please, Pete- don't let them do to him what they did to you-"
"You need to go, now," the nurse snaps, not liking the look of her patient as she tries to usher John and Alberto ahead, to join up with Alex so she can push all three men out of the room at once.
Alex has just reluctantly gotten to his feet when Pete surges forward and catches his wrists, stuffing something into his hands with a momentarily look of lucidity in his gaze before the nurse begins pushing him towards the exit as well. "Sorry, Pete," he mutters, gripping tightly to whatever it is that he'd been given without looking at it until they reach the car, troubled by the apparent failure this trip had become.
Alberto is driving, Morrison in the passenger's side seat, all three of them silent and somber, when Alex finally unfolds the crinkled up thing that Pete had stuffed into his palm. He realizes quickly that it's a picture and... a closer glance shows that it's of a highway surrounded by fields and, and... "Wait," he mutters, eyes widening as the pieces begin to click with him. "No way..."
"You say something, Alex?" John asks, glancing over his shoulder at the other man.
"Look, look-" he hisses out, holding up the picture in front of John's nose, watching as he examines it with some surprise. "Is that what I think it is?"
"It's a sign that says Eunice," Morrison says, already typing the info out in his mobile web search engine. "The only results I'm getting is for a Eunice, Louisiana," he comments, staring at google. Switching over to image search, he digs around for awhile before finding the exact sign in some random picture someone on vacation in Louisiana had taken and posted to Instagram, feeling slightly relieved to be living in the age where anyone would upload a picture of anything. It's usually annoying as hell, but in this situation, he can't hate it too much. "So now we know where we're going."
"Yeah, I guess so," Alex mutters. "Pete pulled through after all." They both look over at Alberto, who is glancing at them. "Guess it's time to book some plane tickets."
"I want to check in on Ricardo and Sofia before we go," Del Rio says, eyes gleaming with some relief when the other men nod, Alex also wanting to make sure his roommate is alright before they get on the plane to find and rescue Mike.
Ricardo can't see. Everything's dark and muffled, his breaths frantic and rattling in his chest as he tries to see through the shadows. He's sure Mike had been there, had heard his voice, felt his touch, but now... nothing. He's alone and can't make heads or tails of where he's at. He whines and kicks out, memories rushing back to him viciously. He needs to get free, he needs to find Mike, he needs...
"Mike," he calls out weakly, hoping that it was all just a nightmare, but the darkness remains and he chokes, flailing around and trying to kick out but-
Fingers brush down his forehead, soothing him and he sits up with a painful gasp, tears pouring down his face as he looks around, disoriented and hurting until soft hands wrap around his midsection, easing him back down onto the bed. "Mike," he groans out again, desperate to locate his friend.
Sofia bites back her own emotions as she leans him against her shoulder, stroking the sweaty hair out of his eyes, staring down at him worriedly. "Senor, shhh," she breathes as he trembles and coughs, not sure where he's at. Finally awareness returns and he looks up at her and she smiles sadly, kissing his forehead gently. "You're safe, and Senor Del Rio, Riley and Morrison are out looking for Senor Mizanin, remember?"
He blinks a few times, looking impossibly young, before he nods slowly, wincing. "Right... I, I remember... I think..." Her smile grows slightly as he reaches out for her, Sofia cupping his hands in hers, massaging them gently. "Sofia."
She nuzzles closer to him, trying to comfort him with her presence and lingering touch, and whispers, "Senor, I'm sorry it is because of such a scary situation, but I'm glad you're here. Even if it is just for a short while." She had missed taking care of him, seeing the general camraderie between her employer and the ring announcer... everything. Though she hates seeing him hurt and scared, worried about Mike, she is relieved to be here for him, holding him and comforting him against the nightmares those nasty Wyatts had caused him.
She helps him drink some water before he dozes back off in her arms, sleep seeming a little more calm and peaceful now, when the sound of the front door opening roughly a little later echoes through the hall and makes Ricardo's bedroom door pop in response to the change in air pressure, Ricardo immediately jerking awake, once more trembling horribly. "No, no, it's fine, we're safe," she murmurs to him, stroking a hand down his clammy neck. "It's just Senor Del Rio, see? Listen." And they lay there silently, listening to the soft murmurs of who has to be Alex and John, accompanied by the thick accent of Alberto, this finally easing Ricardo's fretting.
He sits up a little when his former employer opens his door and peeks inside, smiling slightly. "Lo siento, mi amigo, did we wake you up?" He walks in quietly and nods at Sofia before the housekeeper moves aside, allowing him to take her place. As he shifts Ricardo and squeezes his shoulders, the younger man looks up at him, hope and worry bleeding together in his eyes. "We haven't found him yet, but we have a lead for where the Wyatt compound is located at and we will be leaving soon. Riley and I wanted to look in on you first, however. How are you feeling?"
"Tired," he sighs, closing his eyes for a brief moment before looking back up at the Mexican aristocrat.
"And sore?" Del Rio guesses, knowing how concussions can feel all too well.
"Some," he mutters, wanting nothing more than for all of this to be over, Miz to be back and safe, and his head not to be pounding like this. "But, Alberto, why are you here? Shouldn't you be- be searching for...?"
"Si, si, and we will, we all just wanted to make sure you're alright before we leave," Alberto tells him, cupping his face with a warm hand. "We think we know where they have him, and it's in Louisiana, mi amigo." Ricardo gapes up at him, swallowing painfully, before reaching out to grip his sleeve. "Si, we will be leaving soon... but don't worry, we'll find Mike and we'll get him out of there, in time for the holidays, si? Everything will be fine, mi amigo."
"I wish I could help," he breathes out, staring up at his former employer with more than a little guilt in his eyes. "Mike wouldn't be in trouble if not for me-"
"Don't talk like that," Alberto chides him quietly. "Many have been targetted by the Wyatts, I am just glad he was there to help you. And I'm sure he is as well."
"But if they're hurting him-"
"Shhh," Del Rio tells him. "Don't think about it. We'll rescue him and he can come here and rest until he's back to annoying anyone within the vicinity of his voice, alright?" When Ricardo's lips twitch at this, he hugs the younger man gently, relieved and so thankful that they're friends and he can do this once more. "Just rest and listen to what Sofia tells you, we'll be back as soon as we possibly can." He pulls back and taps Ricardo on the jaw, beaming down at him. "After all, we can't let you and Sofia go through Christmas all alone, hmm?"
"No you can't," he agrees, watching Alberto closely as he helps him lay back against the pillows, ensuring that he's comfortable before he turns to leave. "Alberto?"
"Si, mi amigo?" Del Rio asks, turning back towards him.
"Do whatever you need to to find him," he beseeches him with a desperate look in his eye. "Por favor..."
"Si, I will, Ricardo," he nods before exiting the room to locate Alex and John and get this show on the road.
It's cold. What clothes he was kidnapped in are torn and shredded, barely hanging off of his shoulders, and all he wants is to disappear into the nothingness of his dreams, where AJ is at, warm and soft, holding him close and whispering soothingly to him. But it's not allowed, Bray's presence all-encompassing as his family members wander back and forth, watching him closely, lamb masks flickering in the soft glow from the lamps surrounding them. But it's not AJ's voice he hears, nor her touch brushing down his face. No, that would be the Wyatt leader's, his hand curled loosely around Mike's jaw as he hums softly, sometimes singing his 'lullaby', the words echoing eerily in the darkness.
Mike almost wants to abide by them, the only thing keeping him going after all of the abuse he's endured, all of the psychological terrors he'd seen since arriving here. He's not sure if Ricardo is here or not, sometimes thinking he'd seen the younger man in the ranks of all of the other wild eyed Wyatt family members, wondering who they had been kidnapped from, if their families still look for them, or if they'd been given up on long ago. Opens his icy blue eyes and stares back at Bray, trying not to be swayed by his soft lyrical voice. Thinks about his friends, about AJ, John, Ricardo and Alex... How his mom would react if her baby boy was never seen again, or, God forbid, returned as a brainwashed member of the Wyatt family... Don't give up on me, he thinks desperately, unsure if he's talking to himself or his friends. I'm not done fighting yet... please find me...
As his internal struggles continue, Bray's soft words deepen their hold on him, sounding more and more enticing the more he hears them. "... Walk with the reaper, leave this world behind..."
They drive until they find the picture's origin, a highway marker on the outskirts of Eunice, Louisiana. But not entering the town, no. It's leading away and they drive until they start to see signs for Crowley, Lousiana, this somehow seeming fitting that the Wyatt compound would be settled somewhere around here, between the two towns. John is driving when he abruptly pulls over, stopping the car with a deep frown. Alberto and Alex watch, perplexed, as he gets out and looks from side to side, nothing but trees and wild land on either side of them. The men join him outside, wondering what he's seeing, when they sense it too. Now that they're out of the vehicle and still, there's a sense of darkness in those woods, promising bad things, and neither of them would've noticed if not for John stopping the car when he had.
Alex looks up at him, somehow not surprised. Mike had always explained with a weird look on his face how, when they'd first won the tag titles back in 2007, his tag team partner's connection to the world had creeped him out until they'd become close friends, and he had accepted it as just another quirk's of John. If due to the hours of meditation and exploring the oceans and nature, or perhaps because there was something to his Palace of Wisdom- which neither Alex or Mike had understood, or had explained to them in all of the years they'd known him (All John would say when asked was it's a place beyond explanation, which had given Mike even more teasing material)-, either way it doesn't really matter. What does matter is that whatever it is may end up saving Mike and Alex has to smile a little at the thought. It just feels right.
When John begins to walk forward without speaking a word to either of them, Alex swallows and follows him through the copse of trees, careful not to trip over the bushes. Del Rio is behind them, muttering viciously in displeasure at the surroundings until Riley spins on him, hissing. "Quiet!" The Mexican aristocrat looks peeved at this but concedes, painfully aware that none of them wants to be caught by whatever may be lurking in these trees, or busted by the Wyatts before they even arrive. The rest of the walk continues on in silence, little more than their breathing audible over the general noise of nature surrounding them. Less than half an hour has passed when Morrison raises an arm, stopping the other two mid-step. Alex looks up and gulps, finding a ramshackled building poking out of the tree tops feet ahead of them.
They had been too distracted by walking to feel it, what Morrison had been leading them into, but now that they're here, the sensation of terror and darkness is overwhelming, Alex unsurprised now that Pete had lost it so thoroughly, glancing over at the other two men worriedly. What if the same fate is waiting for us? But if it's this bad for us out here, how horrible must it be for Mike wherever they're holding him? He feels ill. Mike, good God, man... hang in there, we're here. We'll find you.
The grounds are suspiciously empty, unlike how they'd been when Pete had ventured here to meet the Wyatts, and this only adds to Alex's foreboding as he follows behind John, feeling like a very young child trying to keep up with its parent in a strange, new place. Del Rio looks about as comfortable as he feels, his dark eyes darting from left to right as he tries to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Or, well, more suspicious than the whole situation they find themselves in. The porch creaks and snaps when they step on it but John ignores it, continuing to the front door. He stares at it intensely for a moment before resting his hand over the handle, turning it sharply. It's unlocked, the old wood swings open easily, allowing them entrance as if no one has lived here in awhile. Not for the first time, Alex begins to doubt all of this- Pete's info, well, had been fragmented at best, and quite a few months old, no less. Perhaps the family had found a new compound, and it's just the remnants of their aura that they're affected by, but... no. That can't be, because they need to find Mike, he needs to be here, and they can't have come all this way for nothing.
So when they walk inside and see a lantern burning feebly from the corner of the room, as if encouraging them to come pick it up and take it with them, Alex releases a soft sigh of relief. Fire means someone is still here, means they might still have a chance at finding Mike. John grimaces as he walks over and picks it up, a shudder brushing down his spine as if he had just dunked his hand in ice water, but Alex doesn't dare to ask- the look of concentration on his face doesn't look like something anyone should interrupt, no matter what. As they continue through the dusty, dank house, it grows darker and more terrifying, as if it's suddenly become nighttime outside, no light at all coming through the windows that they can see. The only thing allowing them to see at all being the lantern in John's steady hand, he lifts it up so it casts a wider glow upon their surroundings, Alex swallowing as he spots a door just ahead on the right, the three of them hovering a few feet away from the doorway leading out of what appears to be the main room of the house.
Morrison and Del Rio see it too and follow him as he ventures forward, gripping the doorknob and turning it slowly, scared of what he might see within. Once he pulls the door open, they all peer inside and stare. Beds from one side of the room to the other in what looks like something out of a horror film's version of the movie Matilda, Del Rio muttering lowly in Spanish until Alex glares at him warningly once more, the older man realizing what he's doing yet again and clamping his mouth shut.
They quickly back out of the room and turn, looking further down at the line of doors they can now see, that overwhelming sensation building with each step as they approach the next knob, on the left this time. Alex yet again reaches out to open it but before he can even graze it with his fingers, everything goes numb- he can't see, can't hear. Words rush through his mind, in a voice he's only heard in the WWE, or...
There's a place in the meadow...
Hands roughly grip his shoulder and he gasps, snapping out of whatever he'd just been lost in as something white bites through the evil enveloping him, looking up in horror as John stares deep into his eyes, brown clashing with dull blue and drawing him back to reality. "Alex," he hisses. "Here. Watch him, Del Rio." Pushing the lantern into his hands, Morrison brushes past him and opens the door himself, staring into the depths of the room. Alex is still panting and pale, relieved perhaps for the first time ever since he'd first met him for Alberto's presence, when John returns, seeming unaffected by the room. He takes the light back and grips Alex by the neck, yet again staring deep into his eyes. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah, yeah- I... what was that?" he demands, voice weak as he grips John's wrist through his trembling. He feels like he's run a marathon, shoveled ten driveways, wrestled all of the WWE locker room at once...
Morrison simply shakes his head and leans his face against Alex's shoulder for a moment before urging them ahead, visibly shaken as well.
"Can you smell 'em?" Bray whispers to Mike, still curled around his battered and abused body like a snake about to lunge for the kill. "You may think they're here to rescue ya, but they'll fail... you're mine... Daniel Bryan may refuse me, and I underestimated Kane's hatred, but you're a good deal weaker than either of 'em... There's nothin' you can do, Miz. You'll never have to lie to me like you have to everyone else, wantin' nothing more than just to be liked... We'll take good care of you... just accept us... We've already accepted you, for everything you are... and all that you aren't..."
Blood is now dripping sluggishly from Mike's split lips, his face bruised and tender. His thoughts are vacant, faded. He wants to sleep forever, forget the pain, leave it all to Bray to sort out... but it's not right. He'd always fought for his goals, determined for so long to be a WWE superstar, and now... now... he merely wants to be with AJ and his friends, celebrating Christmas and...
Bray is singing again, his thoughts drifting away as he loses more of himself, and all he can do is breathe and listen. "There's a place in the meadow, a place where you can't hide... walk with the reaper, leave the world behind..." Bray's voice is comforting, enticing, and...
"I accept," he breathes, feeling the beard scraping against the side of his face shift as Wyatt smiles, his body twitching when his new brethern begins to laugh softly.
"Of course you do..."
Things change when they reach the end of the hall, John tensing immediately. The air feels different, more stifled... choked in agony and terror, Alex barely able to breathe as tears prick at his eyes. Alberto glances at him and they just know, John not even waiting as he kicks in the door, storming inside. Alex nor Alberto waits, following him, and- both stop short, in horror at what's in front of them.
Harper and Rowan are blocking their path, just allowing them glimpses of Mike around their girth, his head lolling forward lazily as Bray strokes the side of his face, softly murmuring his demented lullaby over the bleeding man. "He's ours," he whispers, laughing yet again. "You're too late."
John stands his ground, however, far from intimidated by the much larger men leering down at them, Rowan wearing the sheep's mask as always. "You're wrong," he says, kneeling to place the lantern down by the door. And just like that, he surges forward and punches Harper, sending Alex and Alberto into action against Rowan as the three of them try to fight their way to Mike. Alberto seems to be holding his own against Rowan well enough so Alex moves to help John against Harper, relieved to find that some of the tension in his chest eases as he does something finally, fighting alongside the Shaman of Sexy. Finally the three of them have Rowan and Harper on the ropes, Morrison snapping the redhaired man in the skull with a kick that staggers him and opens him up for one of Alex's powerbombs on the floor, which cracks under his weight and leaves him in a crater of wood and nails, motionless. Alex and John have just regrouped when Alberto slams Rowan's upper arm against his knee, leaving him writhing as he tries to ease the white hot pain coming from his visibly snapped appendage.
Bray tsks and gently kisses Mike on the forehead before leaving him against the wall, standing to address the three men determined to rescue him. "You may be able to get him out of here physically, but mentally, he will always be here, with us, his true family," he tells them. "You lost him before you even stepped into this house."
Alex is terrified that he's right, staring down at his former NXT pro, when...
"You don't know what family is," Morrison spits at him, undisturbed by anything around them as he steps forward, staring across at Bray. "And you never will." He lifts the lantern that had been left abandoned before they'd started fighting the Wyatt family members, Bray's dark eyes flickering over to it. If Alex didn't know better, he'd think the man looked... fearful...
And this is proven factual mere minutes later as, with every forward step John takes, Bray steps backwards, his footing uncertain and wary in his own home. "What are you?" he whispers, all color draining from his face as he stares up at the man.
John smirks and shakes his head. "I'm his best friend," is all he says as he reaches out and punches Bray hard in the face, sending him completely away from Mike.
Bray gasps and spits out some blood, the two men then exchanging blows as Alex lunges forward and grabs Mike, trying to pull him away from the wall. He's not tied up, which confuses Alex, but he doesn't question it, relieved when Del Rio joins him and the two of them lifts him bodily up, looping his arms over their shoulders before dragging him towards the door. "Morrison!" Alex exclaims as they're almost clear, walking over Harper's twitching body and Rowan's motionless form.
John knees Wyatt in the abdomen before following it up with one to his skull, leaving him rocking. A quick Chuck Kick to the face and Bray falls over, grasping his face while moaning pitifully. John sneers at him before rushing to join his friends, leading them down the hall with the lantern held high. It's only a few moments later that they realize it's unneccessary, the sun yet again gleaming through the windows. Even so, John keeps it with him and only lays it down once they're back at the front door, rushing forward to pull the door open so Alex and Alberto can get Mike out without hurting him further. "We'll walk for a few minutes," John mutters to them as they walk hurriedly through the grounds back to the trees, where they only feel a little less vulnerable, still not sure whose eyes may be on them. "Then we'll check Mike's condition out."
Not that it's truly necessary, it had been obvious in the house he wasn't doing well. Bruises and cuts along his face and arms are visible even from this angle for both Alberto and Alex, the two men only walking as quickly as they dare, unsure what other injuries may be hidden by the shredded clothing, blood and discolored flesh. Finally John stops them when they're halfway to the car and helps them ease Mike down to the ground, pulling him close to keep him from getting too chilled. "Hey, hey. Mike," he whispers, patting his face. "Hey. Come on." No response and he closes his eyes, Alex worrying that perhaps, after all of this, Wyatt will end up being right. Mike will turn outlost to them after all... He can't even imagine how that will impact their little group, or if Ricardo could even recover from such a blow, especially since he's already so guilty over it.
He kneels down next to the men and rests his hand on Mike's, looking up at John in fright as the other man leans his forehead against Mike's, breathing in and out regularly. Alberto hovers nearby, clearly uncomfortable, but needing to remain for, if nothing else, the sake of his best friend, who could've easily been in a similar condition had Miz not reacted the way he had back in that arena.
Darkness. No pain. It was just as Bray had said it would be- clear, no illusions, no fright, nothing. Just pure contentment to his very bones. He feels no disappointment over his career failing, he feels no regret over how he mishandled so many things, nor guilt over his various past actions against his closest friends. He doesn't want to leave it... but yet...
There's a soft touch on his face, on his hand, and whispers surround him. Familiar whispers, sad murmurs. They make him thrum with sympathy, wanting to help the owners of those voices feel the way Bray had helped him to, but the closer he comes to them, the more things seem wrong. There's something eating at the darkness surrounding him and he wants to embrace it, he does, but he's not sure how, if it's even capable after everything he's been through. He feels so weak and dependent and... Wait, why am I feeling like that... He breathes in and out softly, feeling the familiar rising and falling of a chest against his back and... John. Another murmur and... Alex. A name is spoken nearby and he sighs faintly. Ricardo... AJ.
His eyes flutter and open, allowing pure sunshine in for the first time in he's not sure how long and he winces away, crying out as pain shoots up his body, but John is there, and Alex, and... Del Rio? His friends sooth him and whisper to him until he can look again without panting in agony, tears welling up in his blue eyes. "I knew you'd come," he slurs out, relieved when they grin at him, looking less fearful. "I knew..." He continues to mumble, barely making sense to himself, when John cups his face, immediately quieting him as they stare intently at each other for a few minutes.
Whatever John is searching for he apparently finds because he pulls away with a small smile and nods at Alex and Del Rio, who look about as confused as Mike feels. "Let's get him home." It's a painful process, the three of them working to get him standing and situated between Alex and Del Rio, but the further they move away from the trees, the clearer Mike's thought processes feel. They're halfway to the stateline, opting to drive back to Florida to avoid questions from airport security, when Mike falls asleep.
AJ's voice is what revives Mike as she screams herself hoarse, demanding answers from John and Alex, Ricardo wide eyed next to Mike's bed as he soberly strokes his fingers through Miz's hair, unaware that he's aware of what's going on around him. "Why didn't you tell me he was missing?!" she yells, tears pouring down her pale face. "I could've... I could-" She's all but hyperventilating and it's making Mike's chest hurt even more to look at her, hear the audible pain in her voice.
"AJ," he breathes out, smiling slightly when everyone in the room twists around to look at him, the girl's face immediately crumpling as she scrambles over to him and cups his face, kissing him gently, trying to be mindful of his injuries. "I'm gonna be ok," he promises her when she finally pulls away, her tears stinging against the small cuts along his lips and nose. This, however, only makes her sob harder as she collapses on top of him, unable to hold herself up against the weight of the world anymore but he doesn't complain, stroking her hair gently even as he grits his teeth against the pure agony even her slight body is causing him.
He doesn't stay awake long, blinking blurrily as AJ sobs into his shirt, only just nodding wearily at Ricardo, who also looks teary eyed as he nods back, struggling to smile at his friend, before dozing back off, his hand steady on her back until she cries herself to sleep as well.
Except that their rest doesn't last long; Mike is choking in darkness, unable to move an inch to try to escape this madness, and there's soft whispers steadily growing louder until... There's a place in the meadow... "NO!" he screams, all but tossing AJ clear off of him as he jerks upright to escape the nightmare-memory-whatever, immediately regretting it as his body protests vehemently, cool sweat pouring down his forehead as Ricardo leans forward, horrified and shaking.
"Mike, Mike-" he gasps, reaching out for his friend. When Mike recoils, he freezes and stares up at him. "It's ok, Mike. It's me. It's Ricardo."
Miz shakes his head and sniffs, the echo of Bray's voice only fading enough for him to distantly hear Ricardo's voice. "Ric- Ricardo?"
"Si, yes, it's me," the ring announcer breathes, regrouping and gingerly sitting next to him on the bed, resting a hand on his shoulder. A groggy, frightened looking AJ joins them on the other side, brushing her hands through Mike's hair, her dark eyes filling with tears as he shudders and leans into her touch. "You're ok, it's going to be fine. I promise."
"Hurts," he mutters, relaxing slightly when their warmth eases some of his discomfort. On top of that, Bray's words and reality war with each other in his mind until his eyes snap open and he stares ahead blankly. "Oh God," he moans, feeling ill.
"What is it?" Ricardo whispers, eyes wide as he brushes his fingers down Mike's arm. "Mike-"
"I accepted, I- I agreed to be a..." He scrunches his eyes shut tight and shakes his head, not wanting it to be real. "I gave up, I agreed to be a Wyatt family member." His eyes are blazing when he twists to look at, first, AJ, then Ricardo, reminded of what he was willing to give up just to stop the agony. "I'm so sorry. So damn sorry." The two 20-somes exchange glances before sandwiching him in a hug, trying to stop his guilt-ridden speech.
"You have nothing to be sorry about," AJ breathes into his hair. "Nothing at all. Baby, you were so beat up when you got here..." She sobs at the memory of when she'd first seen him, while John and Alex were still trying to clean him up, Alberto tasked with keeping Ricardo distracted until Mike looked somewhat more presentable. "None of us will blame you for just wanting for the pain to end."
He wants to believe her, but...
"She's right," Ricardo speaks up, his voice trembling with self-loathing and pain as he stares at what of Mike's face he can see from this angle. "I am the one who is truly sorry. This is my fault, all of my fault. If I could've defended myself at all against them, you wouldn't have felt the need to sacrifice yourself to protect me-"
But Mike shakes his head. "They didn't want you," he explains lowly. "They used you as bait, because they knew I would want to keep you safe, it was just to get to me. If it hadn't been you, it would've been someone else." His arm tightens around AJ and she looks up at him, terror in her eyes for a whole other reason.
Ricardo says nothing else, though his eyes are dark with guilt, staying nearby as Mike once more falls asleep, his breathing stilted and a bit uneven.
Recovery seems to be slow, Mike having to take everything a minute at a time. Holding AJ, talking with John, Ricardo and Alex, all of it's a blur as he tries to ignore the whispers that he can still hear all too clearly in his thoughts. Bray's voice is a hard one to forget and some nights the only thing helping him to remember to breathe is the soft moonlight pouring in through Del Rio's guest bedroom's window, all too aware that there were absolutely no lights in the Wyatt compound, no matter the hour. How he finds the strength to make it to his feet on Christmas, he's not sure, but he does, leaning on AJ as she leads him to the living room. When he gasps at the soft lights flickering from every corner of the room, she smiles and squeezes his side, helping him to sit down. "Merry Christmas, Mike," she whispers, kissing his nose as he takes it all in.
Alberto's house looks amazing, he has to admit- its size and his money leaves it open to be decorated impressively, and he feels a little jealous when he thinks back on the meager decorations he has around his house in comparison. He doesn't even want to imagine what Alberto's electricity bill must be. He's still sitting there when the others begin trickling in- Tamina, Alex, Ricardo, Alberto, even Alberto's brother Memo is there. John is the last to enter and immediately sits on the other side of Mike, staring intently at him before relaxing, a smirk overtaking his features. "About time you decided to get out of bed," he tells him teasingly.
"I would do anything for gifts," he smirks back.
"Oh really?"
"Well, yeah. What, did you think it was for the company?" He laughs when John narrows his eyes at him. Things are still far from normal, and a part of him worries that it'll never be completely the same ever again, Bray's haunting whispers still faint in the back of his mind, but as he looks around at the room of people who had been so determined to see him back here safe and sound, he thinks that perhaps today will be a good start towards at least making that a possibility.