The tweet Alex Riley had made to Zeb Colter about joining We The People wasn't serious, at least not in the way that most would think. Many before him had tried suggesting things on Twitter, allegiances, tag teams, solo matches, even just people to manage, but yet... none had stuck, ignored by WWE for their own plans and ideas. So when Alex had made his tweet, he knew nothing would come of it, and it was more of a way to annoy the old man because everyone knew all too well by then that he and Ricardo lived together. The thoughts of Zeb willingly working with someone who lived with one of those nasty illegals made even the former ring announcer chuckle, Alex quickly dropping the topic when he'd seen the pain in Ricardo's eyes. It's a delicate subject for him, Alex knows all too well, especially after everything he'd been through.
Time passes and people forget what he'd suggested, as he'd expected they would. He does, however, wrestle his first match in almost a year not long after he'd made the tweet, and it's a relief. Considering that Ricardo too is now competing once more, he thinks maybe there is some truth to the saying that good things come to those who wait, especially when things with he and Alicia begin to pick up. His body gets sore very easily, however, the matches he has leaving him stiff and tense, making walking back to his car near torture. But he'll be home soon, able to take a hot shower and a long nap, and in time, his body will readjust to competing and everything will be fine again.
At least that was the plan... until heavy footsteps sound behind him and, before he can turn around to see who's coming, he feels a sharp pain in his skull and everything goes dark as his knees buckle, leaving him sprawled on the blistering hot pavement. He only stays there for a few moments, however, before someone grabs him under the arms and begins dragging him away, his head lulling as he struggles to regain control, get back to his feet. Unfortunately, the pounding in his head is just too severe, and he quickly falls completely unconscious.
When he awakens again, Colter is standing over him with a smirk just visible under his scraggly beard. "Stand up," he says gruffly. "And put your hand over your heart and in a loud, clear voice, say, "We the People!"
Alex can hear Swagger doing as ordered but he merely looks at Zeb like he's insane, feeling no such inclination to do so, knowing what exactly such things mean. "Never," he mutters, not too surprised to find that he's bound and gagged.
Colter sneers down at him. "No, hm? Well, that's fine. We'll convince you eventually..."
As Swagger and Colter surround the uncomfortably hard cot that he's currently sprawled across, he swallows harshly. I don't think this is gonna end well for me, one way or another...
Ricardo had collapsed, exhausted, into bed as soon as the NXT event had ended the night before. He and Alex had arrived separately, because Kalisto had wanted to go over some tag team combinations before the event, so they had also left separately. Ricardo hadn't had a match, just came to observe and support his roommate and tag partner, but the more he wakes up, the more he realizes the apartment is much too quiet. Neither he or Alex sleep in late- except for after international flights, when jetlag is at its worse- so he's amazed when he looks at the clock to find that it's almost noon. "Maldita sea," he gasps, scrambling to his feet.
He had intended on running some errands, visit with some friends from California, do other general things before the night's UFC. He could still do it all, of course, but he would be running against the clock every step of the way.
Except that... he doesn't even get the chance. As soon as he leaves his bedroom, he knows something is wrong. Everything is too quiet, too... untouched. Alex, good roommate though he is, can't leave anything uncluttered for too long before he's scattering food around, or leaving the remote in the middle of the couch, in threat of being eaten by the cushions, or... whatever else mayhem that's possible. Which isn't the case right now, the apartment is exactly how Ricardo had left it upon arriving back home the night before. So Ricardo turns and knocks on Alex's bedroom door. "Hey, Alex?" His worry grows when there's no answer. "Um, Alex..." He pushes the door open, relieved that neither of them have locks, and peeks inside. "Hello?"
It's empty inside, the bed untouched. He swallows, eyes wide and fearful. "Oh no." He returns to his bedroom and finds his phone, rocking back and forth anxiously on his heels as he listens to it ring in, his worry growing the longer Alex doesn't answer. When the voicemail clicks in, he closes his eyes. "Alex, hey, it's Ricardo. I noticed you didn't come in last night, and I just... wanted to make sure you're ok. You know, um. Call me when you get a chance, alright?" He hangs up and stares at the phone for the next ten minutes, begging for it to ring.
Nothing happens.
Mike is enjoying a rare day at home with AJ, rubbing circles against her hip while they laze together on the couch when his phone rings. She groans in protest as he shifts up, reluctantly grabbing it. "Oh, it's Ricardo," he mutters, answering it. "Hey, man, what's up?" He listens for a minute before tensing and sitting up. "What? No, wait, what? How long has it been?" He lightly shifts AJ away and stands up, pacing around the room as he listens to the troubled younger man. "No, I'm glad you called. You last saw him at the NXT center? Ok... yeah, I understand. I'll... I'll get a flight out and help you find him. Don't worry about it. If you hear anything, let me know." He nods, running his hand through his hair as he hits a couple of buttons on his phone. "Alright, yeah, I definitely will. See you in a little bit."
"What's going on?" AJ asks, brows furrowed as she joins him, resting a hand on his chest.
"Alex didn't come home and Ricardo can't get ahold of him..." He hisses, pulling his phone away as if it had burned him. "Dammit, he's not answering me either." He leans in and kisses her. "Sorry, sweetheart, I'm going to have to fly out there and figure this out." He curls their fingers together and hugs her, sighing.
"It's ok," she says, squeezing his hand. "Do you want me to come with?"
"Not unless you want to," he whispers. "It's your day off too. Just relax, I'll call you as soon as I know Alex is ok." She nods, pursing her lips as he kisses her again and goes off to collect his things to pack hurriedly before leaving for the airport. Another kiss and exchanged I love yous and he's out the door, wondering what exactly his former protege has gotten himself into now.
Ricardo meets him at the airport later that afternoon, an intensely troubled look on his face. "Sorry to pull you away from home like this, Mike, but I still haven't heard from him. Should we notify the police, do you think?"
Mike tries dialing Alex's number again, getting the same frustrating lack of response. "Let's give it a couple of more hours, drive around and look for him. Who knows, he might've lost track of time with some girl, or something." It's out of character with Alex, but anything's possible, especially lately. The younger man had done plenty of mystifying things while Mike was filming Marine 4, so what's one more?
Ricardo nods and they do just that, exploring Florida for what feels like days, Ricardo's worry visible on his face as they search all of Alex's favorite places, finding absolutely no sign of him, nor anyone who remembers seeing him since the night before. "This isn't good," the former ring announcer mutters once they've exhausted all easy options. "What do we do now?"
Mike sighs, trying to think quickly about what the best course of action could possibly be. "Let's... go back to the apartment, if he's still not there, then we'll call the police. Alright?" Ricardo nods anxiously, staring out of the windshield silently as Mike drives them back. They're both watching closely as they approach the building, Mike releasing a soft breath when he spots a car in the parking lot. "Well, then," he mutters, parking Ricardo's car next to it and getting out. "Let's go see, huh?"
"Si," Ricardo agrees tensely, following him to the building and unlocking the door to his and Alex's apartment. "Alex?" he calls out, glancing around. Alex's keys and hat is sitting on a nearby table and his shoulders slump in relief as Mike claps him on the back.
"Alex! Get out here," Mike orders, walking over to Alex's bedroom door and peeking inside. He's just turned around when Alex peeks out of the kitchen, blinking at them. "Where the hell were you, man?"
"I ran into some friends outside of the arena last night and lost track of time." He glances from Ricardo to Mike and then double-takes. "Mike, what are you doing here?"
"Ricardo couldn't find you, and you weren't answering your phone, so I decided to come here and make sure you hadn't fallen off the side of the planet." Mike sprawls out on the couch and smirks up at him as he glances over at Ricardo. "Don't bug him about overreacting, I was kinda worried too. You've never ignored both of us before."
"I wasn't ignoring you," Alex shrugs. "My phone died, is all. I forgot to charge it before the event and I was so busy with my friends, I just didn't notice, I guess."
"Alright," Mike says, the explanation sounding more than feasible. "Well, now that I'm here, and you're home safe, how do you two plan on entertaining me until we have to leave for Raw?" He laughs as the roommates exchange uncomfortable glances, frozen at the prospect of doing so. "Oh come on, I'm not that complicated a visitor... let's just go for a swim or something."
"Sounds like a plan," Ricardo agrees with an easy-going laugh, Alex nodding. "Let's do it."
To Mike's relief, things seem normal, Alex not acting off in anyway as they spend the day at the beach before wandering around Tampa, looking for entertainment and somewhere to eat. So he lets them do their own thing as they fly to Raw, eager to see his bride after this event concludes. "Look, if you need anything else, or if something else happens, just call," he tells Ricardo. Though things seem normal, he knows, especially in this business, that it's best to keep ones' eye on situations, no matter what.
"Si, alright, thanks, Mike," the former ring announcer agrees, smiling at him. "But he seems fine now."
"Better safe than sorry, man." He pats Ricardo on the shoulder before heading off to film something for the WWE Network, this past weekend quickly forgotten as business responsibilities distract them all.
But things quickly devolve. Alex begins acting oddly again after Raw films that week, anxious and tense as they drive to the next town, Ricardo watching him as he stares blankly out through the windshield into the darkness. "Are you ok, Alex?" he finally asks an hour into the ride.
"Never better," he says, not even bothering to look over at his roommate.
Ricardo frowns but decides not to push, focusing as best as he can on the rest of the drive to their hotel, eager to go get some sleep. Hoping that that's all Alex needs too, unable to think of anything he'd done or said to piss the other man off. Finally they arrive and Ricardo parks, relieved as he looks up at the tall building. "Come on, let's go book a room," he tells Alex as he moves to grab his bag out of the trunk.
"I want a room to myself," Alex says suddenly, already half way to the building. "I want some privacy tonight."
Ricardo stops short and watches him enter alone, a shiver of foreboding making its way down his spine. "O- ok..." He grimaces and enters the hotel, trying not to show that anything's wrong as he goes to the side opposite of Alex, yet barely paying attention as he books his room. "Mm hmm, thanks," he mutters, taking his ID and credit card back from the hotel staff, collecting his things and going to the elevator in time to see the doors close behind Alex. "What is going on?" he whispers to himself, his fingernails digging into the straps of his bag. "What'd I do wrong?"
A good night's sleep does nothing to fix things. Alex stays distant during the events the next few days, they travel back to Florida separately, and by the time Ricardo arrives back at their apartment, Alex is long gone, the place empty and quiet. Ricardo swallows and looks around, thrown by how odd things feel right now. "Ay dios mio," he mumbles, dropping his things by the door and wandering through the apartment. His only comfort is that Alex's things remain scattered throughout the house, some proof that at least A-Ri would return at some point, so perhaps they could talk.
But this doesn't happen. Ricardo falls asleep before Alex returns and when he wakes up, the lights are off and Alex's door is shut tightly. He stands in the hallway between their two rooms and stares at it, not sure what to do to fix things. He closes his eyes and digs his nails into his palms, shaking his head. Unable to think of what to do at this hour, he slowly turns and enters his room, hoping for clarity in the morning light.
But days go by and nothing changes. Alex does his level best to avoid him, and Ricardo eventually gives up trying to drag him into conversation, his deathly silence making things quite tense and uncomfortable around the apartment. They don't travel together anymore, they don't room together, they don't even hang out in the locker rooms anymore. Alberto notices, Miz notices, but neither are sure to what extent how bad things have gotten. Until, anyway, Ricardo finally grows sick of the silence and grabs Alex by the arm. "No, this is done- talk to me," he demands of his roommate, voice wavering as he tries to hold onto him. "Por favor-"
"Don't touch me, you dirty- nasty-" Alex wrenches his hand free and punches the ring announcer, sending him to the floor in one fell swoop. "We speak English here, this is America!"
Ricardo is staring up at him in a daze when Miz and Alberto intercede, Mike holding his former protege back while Del Rio kneels next to Ricardo to check on him, his hand warm and solid against the former ring announcer's shoulder. "What is your problem?!" Mike demands of Alex, Del Rio seemingly speechless with anger, his eyes locked on Ricardo's bruising jaw. "Talk to me, Alex! This isn't like you! You- you sound like that xenophobic nutjob, Colter!"
"Never insult Zeb Colter to me-" Alex yells, trying to take a swing at Miz this time, but failing as first, Mike blocks the blow and second, Del Rio sweeps out and takes Alex's legs out from under him, knocking him down and allowing Mike to pin him against the tiles. "Aaah!" he yells, flailing around wildly until Del Rio acts again, kicking Alex harshly in the skull.
Things are calmer for the moment so Mike steps closer to Ricardo, gripping his hand and pulling him up from the floor. "Are you alright?" he demands, searching his face as Alberto trails a hand against the growing bruise, trying to make sure nothing's broken.
"No, I'm not," he sniffs, trying and failing not to cry. "I don't understand, he's been so... so distant, and mean for so long, I was trying... trying to give him his space, but... I just thought if we talked about things, maybe we could be friends again..."
Mike sighs and pulls him into a hug, ignoring Alberto's weird glance. "It's ok, Ricardo. But can you tell me one thing?"
"What?"
"When did this start?" Mike pulls away so he can look Ricardo in the eye, taking in his confusion and wounded uncertainty. "Was it right after he disappeared after the NXT event?"
"I- I, yeah, I think so," he nods after a moment of thought. "I don't know why, or what I did... he's just... he's so different, I don't know what to do." Fresh tears fill his eyes and Mike cringes, patting his face.
"That tweet he sent to Colter," he mutters. "May have put him on the man's radar." He glances around for Alex's phone, patting down his pants pockets until he locates it. A quick passcode later- Alicia's birthday, no less-, he's skimming through texts and emails until he finds what he needs. Pressing a few buttons, he puts it to his ear and listens, face tensing up as an audio file plays.
"What is it?" Del Rio demands, watching with a frown as Mike presses the speakerphone option and lets them all listen to it.
"Stand up, put your hand over your heart and in a loud, clear voice, say We the People!" It's Colter's voice repeating the same rhetoric over and over and they all exchange troubled glances before looking down at the twitching man at their feet. Mike curses vehemently before searching the phone desperately, deleting any sign of Colter he can find on it. Voicemail messages, emails, text messages, audio files, absolutely anything that he thinks might have caused this. He's tempted to break the phone but he knows all Alex would have to do would be exchange his account to a new phone and still access all of the files, so instead he does his very best to delete everything that he can think of from it. He only leaves one recording, for a extremely last-ditch effort in case he should need it later.
By the time he's done, Alberto's taken Ricardo to the trainer's office to get checked out and Alex is stirring at his feet, groaning and muttering curses. Mike looks far from sympathetic as his friend slowly sits up, holding his head gingerly. "What... what happened?" He looks up and finds Mike's eyes, faltering when he sees how angry the other man looks. "Mike? What's going on? Is... is that my phone?"
Mike puts the offending device down on the trunk next to him and glares down at Alex. "What's going on? Hm, let's see. You punched Ricardo and spewed some of Colter's rhetoric, and now I find all of these messages from the xenophobe on your phone and I'm just wondering when exactly he got his hands on you, and if you actually believe all of this BS or if he's just brainwashed you like so many others."
"It's not BS," Alex mutters, still massaging his forehead.
"Yes, it is! Ricardo's your roommate, one of your closest friends. You never would've talked to him like that a few weeks ago. You definitely wouldn't have punched him. So you talk to me, what the hell is going on with you? I will beat it out of you if I have to," Mike warns him. "I don't want to, but I will."
Alex stares up at him blankly, struggling to his feet. Mike quickly joins him, staring at him with a grim determination. "It's none of your business, now give me my phone back."
"No, see, you're my protege, you're my friend... you are my business, especially if I think you're going down the wrong path; I will do what I have to to help you, and to help Ricardo. Now talk to me."
"No-" Alex tries again to push past him but Mike blocks him, his forearm pressed warningly against his chest. "Mike, move, or-"
"Or, what? Are you going to try to punch me again too?"
Alex falters and shakes his head. "Why are you doing this? I just, I need to go-" Mike is still unyielding and Alex growls, growing annoyed. "You won't understand! No one ever tries to understand Zeb! Let me go!"
"I'm not doing it!" Mike yells in his face. "Make me understand!" In a wild moment of impulsiveness, he grabs Alex's cell phone and plays one of the messages, watching Alex's face suddenly turn rapt and focus on the phone, following its every movement as though it's Zeb himself, preaching to him the vulnerability that immigrants have on American society. Half way through the message, he holds the device up and slams it to the ground, stomping it with his heavy wrestling boot. The shocked, horrified sound that comes from Alex's mouth maybe would've been funny in any other circumstance but as he collapses to his knees and scoops up the pieces, Mike isn't finding any of this amusing.
"Why did you do that?" he chokes out. "All of Zeb's teachings, all of my new-found beliefs, gone... gone-" He's still moaning when Miz grabs him by the collar, forcing him to his feet despite their sharp differences in heights and he slams the pieces of phone out of his hand, holding up a picture. Alex takes one glance at it and starts to writhe around, shaking his head desperately. "No, no, get it out of my face- Mike, please!" But his fight seems to have left him with the shattering of his phone and Mike holds onto him, making him stare at it.
"No," he says lowly. "You look at this picture and you damn well better remember every second of this moment, or I swear to God I will knock you out and drag your ass to a therapist so fast..." He watches closely as Alex stares at the picture, his breath hitching so hard that his chest crashes against Mike's fingers with each rough exhale. It had been taken a year ago, at the belated 4th of July celebration they'd held during Summerslam, Ricardo still reeling from everything that had gone on with Del Rio only weeks earlier, but struggling to have fun. "That's you," he says lowly, pressing his thumb against Alex's visage. "You're hanging onto Ricardo, trying to convince him to relax. Del Rio had just betrayed him a couple of weeks prior, and we were all trying to help him through it. He didn't want this picture, because he's still a little bruised up and sleep deprived in it, but you somehow talked him into it. Not long afterwards, you invited him to be your roommate, and you two were instantly close friends. You can't let Colter's hatred for people like Ricardo affect that. He's hurting yet again now because of what you just did, probably about as much as he was in this picture."
Alex's face falls as he grips the picture, staring down at it with an intense look on his face that Mike can't decipher. "I can't..." He sobs brokenly, looking up at Mike suddenly. "I can't make his voice shut up, it just keeps repeating over and over again in my head." Tears pour down his cheeks as he stares down at the moment in time where they were all friends, and Ricardo had no reason to be scared of him, and... "Oh God, Mike help me," he chokes out, collapsing to his knees and tearing at his hair, Zeb's control losing some of its power. "Please... please... I just want him to shut up, I want to... I want to be myself again."
Mike nods, his own eyes prickling as he grabs Alex around the neck and pulls him in closer, hugging him. "We'll figure it out, it's gonna be ok. Just breathe, man. I'll make sure everything works out... By July, you're gonna be good." He holds up the picture. "We'll all have moments like these again, I promise."
It takes time. Some visits with a therapist. Hypnosis and hours of talking finally breaks Colter's control over Alex, the therapist Mike had found for him helping him to find tricks to shore up his emotional defenses against further attempts by the old man to sway Alex back over to his side. The first time Colter had tried, it was almost worth everything just to see the look on his face when Alex merely stared at him and then punched Swagger hard in the face, leaving him sprawled out on the ground, barely twitching. "Next time, it'll be you, Colter," he promised before leaving with a proud Mike by his side.
Ricardo's forgiveness had come slowly, though as the therapy had begun to show more results, his trust in the other man had also grown. Their friendships now mostly recovered, the group of them are once more on the beach, enjoying another post-4th of July celebration, Mike smiling fondly at his friends and wife as they await the nighttime to shoot off fireworks, his promise to Alex upheld strongly. "Here's to another year," he says simply, staring at Alex who smiles and is the first to clack their glasses together, the others quickly joining in, eager to put the last twelve months behind them and move on to better times.