After spending his Wrestlemania taking out Dolph and opening things up for Snooki to finish off Michelle, John Morrison follows his two tag partners around, half-listening to their chatter as they head for catering, his eyes sliding from one monitor to another while Miz and Cena's match is broadcast to the backstage area. Thankfully there's a monitor within view of the catering table so he keeps one eye on the match as he downs some bottled water, nodding along to whatever it is Snooki and Trish are saying about Laycool.
Not that long into the match, the action ends up on the outside and he gapes, losing all pretense of listening to the women, as Cena clotheslines Miz over the barricade wall, both men hitting the concrete floor- Miz taking the worst of it, as the back of his head thuds off of the hard surface. Morrison's muffled curse attracts both Snooki and Trish's attention. "What?" Trish asks, turning to also stare at the monitor.
A replay runs just in time and both women gasp as Morrison starts to move, ignoring everything around him as he heads for the gorilla position, his mind swimming with too many thoughts. He's not surprised to hear Justin Robert's muffled voice announce it a double countout, or the various boos that follow this statement, but he is somewhat surprised to see The Rock rush through the curtains to confront the participants in the match.
Even with just peeking through the curtains, John can tell Miz is unstable, his balance tenuous at best. When the GM email tries to intercede and Rock interrupts him just to restart the match, he hisses and runs a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face. "Dammit." The "restart" only lasts a few moments, however, as Rock immediately Rock Bottoms Cena, opening him up to Miz taking the advantage and pinning him quickly. He releases a deep breath, glad that it's over, just to blink as Rock attacks and eventually delivers the People's Elbow to Miz, downing him completely.
Alex isn't in great shape either after his earlier attempts at getting involved, so it seems to take him a life time to get Miz out of the ring and even longer up the ramp, even with the referee's assistance. Morrison watches until they finally reach the curtain, quickly joining them. "I have it from here," he tells the tired looking referee. "Go take care of Cena." Not that he really cares about Cena, but it's an easy way to get the referee to move away as he hooks Miz's arm over his shoulder, taking barely a second to look the WWE champion over, before helping Riley ease him through the hallway.
Mike's eyes are open, but glassy, his chin bouncing against his chest with each step as he seems unable to keep his head up. His breathing is so heavy and all-encompassing that Morrison barely hears as he murmurs, "John?"
Unsure, he peers down at his former tag partner's head and whispers, "Mike?" There's no response and he looks up, locking eyes with Alex briefly. The protege shrugs helplessly and they walk a little faster, both men worried at the lack of bragging or anything from the usually very vocal man between them.
The trainer's examination of Miz is as thorough as it can be and seems to take a lifetime, as Alex watches from an uncomfortable leather chair, his hands gripping the edge of the seat between his legs. Morrison settles for standing rigidly near where Miz is settled, his gaze on the ceiling overhead as a muffled lamp lights the trainer's way.
The instant they had entered the office earlier, Miz had recoiled from the bright overhead LED lights enough that he almost fell over Morrison's feet and would've possibly hurt himself worse if both Alex and John hadn't moved quickly to grab him, John getting him under the arms and A-Ri grabbing him around the waist just long enough to ease him down into the nearest chair before Morrison had slapped the light switch, casting the room into mostly darkness.
The trainer clicks his pen light off with a sigh and faces Alex and Morrison, who both sit or stand straighter at the pensive look on his face. "It seems like a pretty severe concussion," he explains. "He needs to go to the ER, no ifs ands or buts about it. I just don't have the equipment here to make sure it's nothing more serious. He took a hard fall against the floor and it's better safe than sorry."
Morrison was moving before the trainer was even half through the first sentence, easing Miz up off of the cot that the trainer had collected since he could barely sit in a regular chair without slipping back out of it. "I figured," he mutters. "We'll take him." It seems almost common to suggest such a thing by now and he almost smiles at the startled look the trainer still gets on his face when these things happen- first with Alex a few weeks ago, now this variation of the situation. He wonders how the trainer'll react if his turn ever comes to need help out of the arena, well... if Miz would provide it.
Alex nods, taking up Miz's other side almost immediately. "Let's go."
The drive to the hospital is quiet, Morrison navigating the streets knowledgeably as he takes some lesser used streets to get where they need to be all the quicker, avoiding the more common paths away from the Georgia Dome. Alex stays in the backseat with Miz, keeping an eye on him and making sure he doesn't remove the dark towel the trainer has provided to keep the garishly lit downtown area from enraging Miz's headache further.
As they arrive at the hospital, John glances over his shoulder. "Think he'd kill me if I get a wheelchair?"
Judging by the momentary look on Alex's face, it seems like he thinks Morrison is a genius for even thinking about it. "Do it anyway," he says with a smirk, leaning back over to adjust the drifting towel across the top half of Mike's face.
"Be back in a minute then," he says with an eyeroll as he stops the car in front of the ER doors and slips out.
"You'll be fine," Alex tells his mentor, not even sure if he's awake at the moment. Shouldn't concussed people be kept awake? Or was that little suggestion changed now? Ugh, researchers... they change their minds every five minutes, he thinks, a thrill of terror slithering down his spine at the possibilities. "Then we'll celebrate like the awesome people we are. Maybe we should even invite Morrison, even though he's far from awesome..." He grimaces a little, both the awesome thing and mocking John falling a little flat without Miz aware enough to even roll his eyes at Alex's antics or anything else.
When Morrison returns, it's with a wheelchair and calm determination, which somehow eases Alex as they work at getting Miz out of the car without slamming his head against the door rim or dropping him on the pavement. "There we go," Morrison sighs once he's finally safely settled. Alex takes over pushing him into the ER, needing to feel at least somehow useful as John leans over to adjust the towel across Mike's eyes once more. "You'll be ok," he mumbles, as the doors slip open automatically.
Nurses converge on them almost immediately, obviously alerted to the situation by Morrison- due to recent attention from both the public and Congress, concussions were treated a lot more serious now, especially by athletes. Alex reluctantly moves aside as a nurse takes over pushing the wheelchair, taking it into an examination room off to the side.
"Follow me," another nurse urges. "We need to get some information before we can do anything."
This process seems to alternate between taking forever and rushing past, as Morrison and Alex work together to answer what they can. The original nurse is fussing over Miz in the corner, taking his vitals and talking quietly with him to try to get a sense of how bad the pain is, if he has any other symptoms, various other questions. Sometimes John overhears her ask other questions- like who the president is, what month it is, what city he's in. Despite the answers being slow, Mike manages to answer all correctly and even confuses the nurse briefly by asking where his title belt's at.
Someone's feeling a little better, I guess, Morrison thinks, glancing over at Alex. By the relieved look on his face, he had overheard too.
They end up spending the night in the hospital, as this test and that test is performed on Mike. Alex is fast asleep around 5 AM when the doctor comes in with the latest test result that confirms there's no bleeding or swelling in his brain. Morrison almost melts into his chair at this, smirking as a much more alert Miz squints at the doctor, carefully sitting up. "So I can go?"
The doctor briefly hesitates before glancing at Morrison and Alex, grimly nodding as his eyes finally settle back on Mike. "Fine. But I don't want you to be alone. And you need to rest. This is a severe concussion, young man. Your brain needs time to heal, among other things. I'll leave a list of things to avoid with the nurse, who'll be in shortly with your release papers."
Before Miz can protest, John nudges Alex and sits up. "We'll make sure he abides by it, Doc."
"Huh? What?" A still half-asleep Alex groans, jerking forward in the horrible ER chair. "Where am I?"
"Shut up and agree," Morrison mutters, rolling his eyes.
"Oh. Yeah, ok, I agree. Wait, what am I agreeing to?"
The doctor- whose name none of them had remembered when they first met hours earlier- chuckles, heading for the door. "Yeah, I can tell he's in good hands," they vaguely hear him mutter sarcastically as he leaves.
By the time they get out of the hospital, it's nearly 6 AM and the sun is just starting to peek up through the dark twilight, Miz's eyes protected by both a pair of sunglasses and the ever-present towel. The doctor had commended the trainer for thinking of it, and encouraged Mike to wear it whenever the lights bugged him just a little too much. As long as one of them keep Miz from walking into something, he's a little steadier on his feet by now, so with a little guidance, they all get to the car without any major mishaps.
"You ok to drive?" Mike asks after a few moments. It takes Morrison double that time to realize he's talking to him.
"Oh, yeah. I'll be fine," he nods. Thank God the hotel is only a few minutes away, he thinks, rubbing a hand over his face. They had all been running on fumes the week of Wrestlemania, working WrestlemaniArt and various Axxess commitments, not to mention many, many media things. Spending the night after Wrestlemania in the ER wasn't exactly in his plans. He glances into the rear view mirror and watches as Alex slaps Mike's hand away from the towel, shaking his head. Weird how things work out, he thinks. Despite his bone deep exhaustion, he's just glad to have heard with his own ears that with enough time Mike would be back to his annoying, abrasive self.
"You can't be serious," John finds himself saying, so exhausted that he feels like he's watching someone else's life as Mike picks at the suit he's wearing, Alex shifting anxiously next to him. "It was barely twelve hours ago that the ER doctor was telling you to avoid watching TV and rest... and now you want to go be ON TV in front of thousands of people? What the hell, Mike?"
"I regained the title," he argues, squinting out at Morrison from behind his sunglasses. "I can't just not show up tonight. I'm not stupid, I won't challenge anyone to a match. I just... need to keep this momentum going somehow. You know?"
Morrison lowers his head, the cascade of hair that follows shadowing his eyes so Miz can't see anything. When he finally looks up, he glowers at Alex, the combination of his wildly disheveled hair and thick facial hair making him look all the more menacing. "You keep an eye on him, understand me? If he does anything stupid and you let it happen, I swear to God..."
Alex nods, bowled over by the intensity in Morrison's dark gaze. "It'll be fine, it will," he babbles, uncertain what the former ECW champion would do and not wanting to find out.
Mike huffs. "Yes mother. Can we go now?" Without waiting for a response, he motions to Alex and they leave, the rookie glancing back uncertainly at John before clearing the door.
Morrison half listens to the monitor as he prepares for his match, glancing up as the various Tough Enough kids introduce themselves. He smirks, remembering his own experiences in the original Tough Enough, when the telltale "AWESOME!" cuts into the walk down memory lane, his attention immediately focused on the screen as Miz comes out, Alex tagging along. Even in the split second glance he gets of the rookie, he sees how nervous he is. As he should be, he thinks grimly, dropping wrist tape back in the bag resting between his legs blindly.
Miz talks from the top of the ramp for awhile, showing how he gained the concussion, before heading for the ring. John's ears start to ring as he watches this, flushing with anger at Miz's stupidity. "Oh yeah sure, you have a concussion but let's walk down to the ring anyway where Austin is waiting!" he mumbles, almost tempted to go out and kick Miz's ass himself. He listens intently as Miz continues talking, starts to wonder if his ears are playing tricks on him as Miz comes straight out and asks if Austin thinks he has enough for one more run. He is not! That idiot...!
Morrison catches another glimpse of Alex, who is looking like a squirrel's just ran over his foot, as Miz challenges Austin to a match. Before Austin can say anything, Alex attacks him and actually holds his own long enough for Miz to come back to his senses and scatter, the champion getting far away as Austin regains his upperhand and hits a stunner, planting Alex into the mat.
Feeling like his life is going in circles, Morrison finds himself back at the gorilla position as Miz follows the referees assisting Riley to the back. "What were you thinking?" he growls at Miz, pointing from him to Alex. "I won't challenge anyone to a match. What was that, another lie?" His words are sharp, drowning in anger but Mike doesn't flinch away as they glower at each other, both men at the end of their ropes, itching for confrontation.
"It was impromptu," Miz mutters, voice pitched low and dangerous as his icy blue eyes bores into Morrison's darker gaze. "I didn't plan on it, but I wasn't completely stupid- I know I'm not in any condition to wrestle... but I also knew Austin wouldn't accept either, since he's not cleared to wrestle because of his neck."
Morrison snorts and waves over at Alex, who's watching them tiredly from where the two referees settled him when he refused to leave due to their arguing. "It didn't stop him from stomping a mudhole in Riley, or laying a Stunner on him!" He huffs, closing his eyes. "It could've been just as easily done to you, Miz. Considering you can't even watch TV right now on Doctor's orders, what the hell do you think a Stone Cold beat down would have done to you? Huh?" Suddenly feeling drained physically and emotionally, he turns away. "I have a match."
After he and Trish beat Dolph and Vickie, he heads into the back and quickly collects his things, desperate to get out of this arena, this city. Home in LA is sounding ridiculously great right now, even though it's Miz's home too- they tend to not search each other out when they are both in town, so he's not worried- but before he can even collect all of his things scattered around the locker room, there's a knock on the door and Zack Ryder peeks his head in. "Oh, hey," he says. "I was looking for Primo. Have you seen him?"
"No," Morrison says shortly, still packing.
"Oh." Ryder watches him for a moment, frowning. "Uh, you know you can't leave, right, bro?"
"What? Why not?"
"Tornado warning, the weather is really bad out there right now. All of us have to stay until it clears up some. The fans have been told to stay at the arena too for awhile," Zack explains. As soon as he finishes talking, a loud, drawn out boom of thunder washes over the area, rattling the walls with its intensity.
Morrison groans. "So we're stuck here?"
"You know it. We're all meeting in catering to wait it out. You should come join us, bro." Receiving no response to this, Zack shrugs and leaves to continue his search for his tag partner.
Giving up on packing as a worthless endevour, Morrison leaves the locker room. Instead of heading towards catering, he goes the opposite way and turns towards the exit. The hallways are empty, quiet. Almost creepy in their unnatural peace. After breaking the silence by opening the squeeching door, he slips outside quickly and lets it slam softly behind him. He stands for awhile, absorbing the cool, strong wind rushing against his skin like it wants to push him over but isn't sure how to manage it, the soft spray of spring-time rain sticking his hair to his face and neck, the loud rumbles of thunder shaking the ground beneath his feet and sharp slivers of lightning crawling across the dark sky, showing precisely where the line of clouds begin and the sky ends.
He's been among the elements for about ten minutes when the door opens behind him and someone joins him, not saying anything as they stand behind him, watching quietly. Nothing needs to be said, he only knows one concussed idiot who would dare to follow him out in a storm like this one.
Finally, "I'm sorry."
"I know," John mutters after a few moments, spent waiting for the loud crack of thunder that had followed to die away. His anger has dissipated since witnessing the power of nature, leaving him with a cold sense of what if? If Austin had moved faster than Alex, if Miz had hit his head again, if, if, if... One wrong move and Miz would've had more to worry about than not being able to watch TV. After another minute of watching the storm crawl across the Atlanta landscape, he turns and smirks awkwardly at Miz, watching as the lightning reflects off of his sunglasses. "No more random match challenges until the doctors clear you... right?"
Miz sighs, grimacing as more rain pours down his face, taking the product out of his hair and making it stick to his forehead. "Right. Can we go inside now? Damn rain."
"If we must," Morrison grins as Mike huffs, the eyeroll visible through his drenched glasses. "If you don't challenge anyone while we wait for these storms to pass, I may even let you tweet." John and Alex were alternating between taking care of Mike's phone, since the doctor had included it in the list of things to keep him away from, only letting him use it to make phone calls when neccessary.
"Don't tease me," Mike grumbles, glaring over at him as they head for catering.
a href=/#!/mikethemiz/status/55363062139596800After the tornado warning expires and they make it back to the hotel, all manage a solid few hours of sleep before they have to face reality again. Morrison keeps his word./a