Leaving AJ is always torture, especially when she's unsure what's going to happen with the rest of her career from here. Mike stares out of the airport window, grumpy and wishing that he could do more for her. Leaving for Smackdown after barely getting a day with her is aggravating but there's little he can do about it, needing to be around in the lead up to the Rumble. Even though he's not booked in a match, he's almost glad when a camera catches him backstage laying into Mizdow for embarrassing him on Monday while pretending to be X-Pac. Especially considering the Uso twins confront Mizdow about the Rumble being one for all. He grits his teeth and listens to them trying to turn his stunt double against him.
As soon as the camera cuts off and the Usos presumably go off to try to ruin someone else's life, Miz meets Mizdow at the locker room door, staring at him. "What the hell were you doing talking to those idiots? You really considering eliminating me? After everything I've done for you? Do you remember, you were nothing before me, trying to gain attention by pretending to be this person and that person, and now you have a purpose, you've been in the presence of greatness, of a Slammy winner and tag team champion." He pokes Mizdow hard. "You better remember that in three days."
The rest of the weekend is tense, quiet, and Miz spends what little free time he finds between autograph sessions and interviews to talk to AJ on either the phone or through Skype, glad that her spirits are staying high even though she's missing the events in her homestate of New Jersey. "I'll represent you," he promises, glad to see her laugh at the thought of it.
"Will you skip to the ring too?"
"If it makes you smile, sweetheart." She beams at him and he presses a soft kiss to his fingertips before holding them to the screen. "I'll see you soon, alright?"
"Yep. Kick ass tonight, husband," she tells him, blowing him a kiss as well before the screen goes dark.
He sighs and turns his phone's app off before looking around, unsurprised to find Mizdow analyzing him, mirroring his expressions and reactions as he puts the device down and begins to dig around in his bag for the things needed for the houseshow in a couple hours. He ignores him through the event, through the match itself and afterwards until they arrive back at the hotel. It's there that he crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Mizdow as he echoes the motion, the two of them gazing at each other. "You've been a disappointment the past few weeks," he says simply. When Mizdow starts mouthing his words, he holds a hand up. "No, this is serious. Stop." Mizdow immediately listens, even allowing his hands to fall to his sides limply. "I trusted you. Invited you into my home for the holidays just to learn you've been filming me almost from the moment I hired you as my stunt double. While I was injured, and needed help. I should've considered why your prior tag team partnerships always seemed to crash and burn so publicly, but I thought ours would be different, and that was foolish of me, especially after everything I've done in former partnerships of my own. I should know better to trust in such things, especially in this business."
He sighs and paces in front of Mizdow before turning to stare at him. "But we have a tag team title rematch tomorrow, so I'm willing to put this behind us for now... the cameras, the X-Pac thing, everything. Just don't do it again, alright? When I ask you to do something, just do it." Mizdow nods, clearly not able to find the words to verbalize his confirmation, and Miz relaxes a little, wanting so badly just to believe that everything would be alright in twenty-four hours, that they would be champions and he would perhaps have a title shot heading into Wrestlemania...
The next day they all arrive early for the Rumble, a number of superstars still needing to draw numbers for their shot in the match, one of which is Miz. He gets in line, Mizdow lurking in the shadows behind, watching, but definitely not allowed to get a number of his own. Mike had told him in no short terms that he was not going to be in the Rumble, this was Miz's opportunity to get back in the World Heavyweight title scene and he didn't want to have to embarrass his stunt double in such a manner.
He's just grabbed his ball, however, when warm arms are thrown around him in an overenthusiastical hug, almost lifting him off of the ground. "Bro! Bro! I'm back, bro! I drew number nine, but I'm in the rumble, bro!"
Mike can't help but laugh as Zack Ryder finally releases him and allows him to turn around to face the ecstatic broski, neither of them noticing as Mizdow sneaks towards the chamber holding all of the rumble balls. "You're looking good, man. Guess I shouldn't be surprised that Cena got the details wrong... or else you're the true superman, returning from an injury that was supposed to have you off of the shelf for six months after two months." He reaches out and lightly kneads Zack's shoulder, staring at him as he grins blindingly.
"I had a medical procedure done that took stem cells from my hip and put them in my arm to try to keep me from needing surgery. Thankfully it worked, so I was able to return so early. Now I can WOO! WOO! WOO! my way into the rumble, and maybe into Wrestlemania." He grins even wider, though Mike hadn't thought that was possible, and immediately turns, spotting someone in the crowd. "Hey! Zig-man! There you are... Bye Mike," he offers quickly before racing through the line of people. "What number did you get, bro? I'm number 9!"
Miz smirks as he watches Dolph and Zack staring down at their numbers, Zack looking a little envious before his grin returns with a vengeance, motioning between their numbers, obviously offering a swap. Dolph laughs at him and shakes his head, dropping an arm around his shoulders and leading him away as Zack continues to try to convince him. Mike releases a breath and stares down at his ball, turning it over to look at the number printed there. Immediately, he feels worse than Zack had looked when he'd seen Dolph's number. "Shit," he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. When Mizdow joins him, he stares at him suspiciously. "Where have you been?" Mizdow mirrors him but offers no true response. Too tired to force it out of him, he shakes his head and storms out of the room, his stunt double following him.
Losing their tag title rematch, and getting eliminated so early in the rumble by Bray Wyatt, is bad enough but Mike is sitting backstage, stewing, when he hears his theme music playing. He gapes at the nearest monitor before he realizes that it's Mizdow coming out, despite Miz's demands that he not have a place in the match. Teeth gritting, fingers forming into fists, he barely remembers rushing through the halls to the gorilla position but his surroundings become real once more as soon as he's in front of Mizdow, demanding that he return to the back and give Miz his spot. He yells at him that he's the star, that Mizdow is nothing, and... he's barely made it onto the apron when Reigns pushes him down, and Mizdow rushes into the ring anyway. All Mike can do is gape at him and watch as he's eliminated within minutes, wasting the second opportunity that should've been Mike's, to make up for earlier. He yells and pitches a fit right there on the ramp, Mizdow having the gall to drop down next to him and repeat his actions, adding fuel to Mike's fire. When he stands, he grabs Mizdow under the arm and drags him up the ramp, screaming in his face the entire way, everything just adding up to be way too much for him.
Once they arrive backstage, he pushes him away and tries to catch his breath, so angry that he can hear his pulse in his ears. "You bastard," he breathes. "You ignorant bastard. I could've won, had everything I ever wanted and deserved, but no you had to be greedy and get yourself eliminated. Why did you do that?!"
Mizdow doesn't say anything for a long moment. "Because," he finally says when it's clear that Miz isn't going to let this go. "You took the titles, the Slammy. This was my one chance at having something for myself."
Mike gapes at him for a moment before laughing, harsh and bitter. "Something for yourself? Like how I had privacy in my own home the last few months? Oh, wait, no I didn't!" Mizdow thankfully falls quiet once more and Mike huffs at him before storming into the locker room, collecting his things and tossing them into his bag. The drive to Hartford for Raw is spent quietly, Mike content just to drive and not think about anything beyond the steering wheel, turn signal and gas/brake pedals. When they arrive, Mizdow is quiet, fast asleep, and Mike glares at him for a moment before wadding up a napkin and throwing it at him, out of the car before he jerks awake.
Before Mike can even make it to the hotel, Mizdow is behind him, quietly echoing him as he books their room and signs the necessary paperwork, talking as little as possible. Hotel staff always give Mizdow a strange look, as if thinking that he's touched in the head, and usually Mike tries to explain, but this time he lets it go, allowing them to think whatever they want. They walk side by side to the elevator and Mike breathes a little easier once they're heading up, looking forward to collapsing onto his mattress and not moving until they have to leave for Raw the next day. Except that he can't sleep and, thankful for the time zone differences, calls home, needing to hear his wife's voice.
"Mike?"
He hisses. "Did I wake you, sweetheart? I'm sorry, I thought you might still be awake..."
"No, it's fine," she yawns into the phone. "I'm glad you called." She hesitates. "Sorry about the PPV tonight. I'm still proud of you, though. Two matches on any night... it's not easy. Especially when you're trying to wrestle three times in a night," she adds teasingly.
He huffs a little, but finds himself smiling anyway. "Yeah, well, what can I say... I'm a glutton for punishment." Just talking to her soothes him and before long, he fights off a yawn himself. "Sweetheart, I should go to bed," he murmurs. "Be well rested for Raw and all of that delightful stuff... I also have some interviews for Sirens on Tuesday, I think..."
"Ok, husband. I'll talk to you soon. Good night."
He smiles. "Good night. I love you."
"I love you too."
He hangs up reluctantly and drops the phone down on the table between his and Mizdow's bed before rolling over and immediately falling into a heavy, much needed sleep, thoughts of seeing his wife in a couple of days making him smile.
When he wakes up, the madness begins. He receives a text that an interview he was scheduled for a couple of hours before Raw has been canceled due to weather and, when he checks weather alerts, his eyes widen. "Shit," he breathes. The forecast is calling for upwards of thirty inches of snow, which means... He looks up, paling as all hopes of getting done with Raw and flying home to be with AJ are squashed in just a few words. On top of that, he and Mizdow will be snowed in together. Things escalate from there as it's reported around the Internet that Raw will be canceled for the evening and, only a little later, the arena confirms it, finally headquarters emailing as much to the other wrestlers. He's not sure who to feel more sympathy towards- the handful of wrestlers, announcers and techs sent back to headquarters to put together a show on the fly, or himself for being stuck here with Mizdow until Thursday, for the live Smackdown that will be held to make up for the lack of Raw.
When he sits up and crosses his arms over his chest, staring across at the other man, Damien mirrors him, of course. Let the games begin, Mike thinks grimly, determined to survive waiting out this storm, no matter how angry he still is towards his stunt double for everything.