Sometimes, Mike forgets. He's walking down the halls at another arena, lost in thought over his nonstop schedule of Miz and Mrs tapings, autograph signings, interviews, this project, that media stop, not to mention the upcoming birth of his second child, and day to day responsibilities as a father and husband. And then he sees Shane McMahon, and it all comes crashing back to the forefront of his mind like a steel chair to the skull and he forgets how to breathe normally for awhile.
The guy had beat Mike, had taken him down at every turn, and now he has Elias, and McIntyre, and the Revival, and a gaggle of other wrestlers with questionable morals at his beck and call, and really. Truly, it would not take much for him to take things one step further and just reveal Mike's secret. Even without the flashdrive that Heath had so helpfully destroyed. All it'd take would be a whisper here, a pointed comment there, maybe delve into Mike's records a little- home ownership, prove that his only listed residence is in California, while it's Maryse and Heath living in Texas with Monroe, and...
"No, no," he grits out, digging his knuckles into his skull. It can't happen, it won't. He's finally in an ok place with his father, he has a beautiful daughter and an incredible wife, and the new baby on the way, and there's just no way he can possibly ruin it by letting his pride get any more in the way than it has already.
Then Ziggler happens, and he's convinced Shane to let him be the guest on this week's MizTV. And Ziggler knows, because Ziggler had wanted AJ too, once upon a time, and they had fought over her, what feels like not that long ago, even though it's been years, but it would be just like Ziggler to fixate on something that's not his to fixate on anymore, like he has with this whole Kofi nonsense the past few months. Mike isn't sure how much he's been keeping up with AJ's life since he'd taken his little hiatus months back, but there's this strange look in his eye and then Dolph is spouting off all of these weak insults which Mike scoffs off, but he moves on to something about Mike's wife, and it's pretty much what he feared from the instant he learned Ziggler's been getting in Shane's good graces.
Possibly not the best idea, but Mike strikes out, Mike takes him down, and runs him out of the ring, leaning against the ropes and glaring at him as he tries to catch his breath, not completely hyperventilate as the show moves on. His hands are trembling as he makes his way backstage, and he shivers as cool air from an overhead fan hits the sweat trickling down his neck just right, adding to his discomfort. He settles in a quiet room and closes his eyes, just needing to hear AJ's voice right now as he lifts the phone to his ear and dials home.
"Mike?" She sounds concerned and he exhales, pressing his forehead against the receiver. "Mike? What was that? What's he doing?"
"I don't know," he says quietly. "I have no clue. I just... I'm sorry, I needed to hear your voice. You weren't asleep, were you? I didn't bother Sara?"
"I was awake, watching Raw," she answers after a moment. "Sara's fine, she's sleeping peacefully. But Mike, what if he's working with Shane, do you think...?"
"They could be fishing for another way to prove the truth about us, about Maryse and Heath," he whispers. "I know. I'm going to try to reign my temper in, sweetheart. I promise you. I just... I don't know. This could get very bad very quickly."
AJ, to her credit, doesn't seem to react in any obvious way. Her voice even sounds strong and calm when she speaks again. "It doesn't matter," she tells him. "I love you, and I love our children, and the four of us- you, me, Maryse and Heath, we'll sort it out. We'll figure things out, just like we would have if Shane had had anything to come forward with. Everything will be just fine. I have no doubt."
Mike sniffs, his vision growing blurry. "I love you, sweetheart," he says softly. "I'll be home really soon."
She blows kisses down the phone at him. "Good, you'd better, I miss your massages." She giggles a little when he chuckles, yearning for her. "I love you too, husband. Sleep well. Things will look better in the morning."
He sincerely hopes so as he hangs the phone up, squares his shoulders, and prepares to leave the arena, pointedly ignoring any glances aimed at him, or questions poised towards him from noisy interviewers who are constantly scoping backstage, looking for some soundbite or bit of news from the competitors.