A/N: A couple things. No matter what happens next week, I have no plans on ending Back to Basics any time soon. I still enjoy writing it, and so we will roll on. Despite that being said, this chapter is mostly somber so if you're looking for a happy-go-lucky Thanksgiving chapter... I'm sorry. Thank you to my readers and a happy Thanksgiving to the Americans, happy Thursday to everyone else! ;)

Sunday. Also known as Survivor Series. With Thanksgiving looming, Miz can't help but wonder what, if anything, he'll have to be thankful for by Thursday. It all depends on the match against Cena and the Rock he and R-Truth will be competing in later this evening, whether or not they can be successful. He may be cocky and arrogant on the outside but somewhere deep inside, he keeps hearing those ads repeating over and over about how they're the most dynamic tag team ever and are basically unstoppable and... He sighs, grimacing. I remember when Morrison and I were the most dynamic tag team, and the division actually seemed to matter. But many things had changed since then, including Morrison himself. He half listens as Truth says something, still caught up in his wayward thoughts.

The night is also a make-or-break one for John too, his "mojo" having returned leading him into a US title match against Dolph Ziggler. It had been a rough road for the Prince of Parkour since his injury, even now his neck an issue for him. Any hit hard enough and he's out for awhile, squirming and holding his neck. It makes it hard just to watch him compete, worries that one wrong move could send him out of commission longer or, God forbid, permanently. His vague comments from weeks back and still depressed sounding tweets now and again does little to comfort Mike. Unfortunately with the partnership of Truth growing in importance by the week, Mike hasn't gotten to spend much time with either John or Alex, the younger man apparently also out of the loop with Morrison. When inclined, the other man is just ridiculously good at keeping his cards close to his vest. Mike is almost equally good at getting things out of him with time, but there just hadn't been any.

As it is, he has his own issues to worry about, his blue eyes locked on the clock overhead. Time is ticking cruelly slowly up to the pay per view start time, ratcheting up Mike's anxiety every time he bothers to check, just to find that the hands have only moved centimeters, if that. He's still sitting there, brooding, when the door opens and Truth returns. When, exactly, he had left, Mike is unsure. He flushes at this oversight, looking over at his tag partner. Despite Mike's own tenseness, Truth seems calm, his steps steady and even as he joins Mike. "Hey, man," he says quietly.

"How.. the hell are you so calm?" he demands after a moment of staring oddly at him. "You're usually as hyper as I am. This makes no sense. You're focused, right?"

Truth smirks slightly, an unreadable expression on his face. Miz may not know him that well, but he's gotten good at reading him in the past few months, so it's strange to him. "Course I'm focused, I know how big tonight is for us. It's just... Rock and Cena. They can't get along for two minutes, they won't last this match. I don't see us havin' anything to worry about." His grin looks strained, Miz thinks, but he has so much going on that he decides to take him at face value.

Finally the PPV starts and Mike is relieved that Truth's left the room again to do- whatever- when the first match ends up being Morrison vs Dolph for the US title. He watches closely, holding his breath every time Morrison comes close to winning. It had been obvious that John had been off of his game since his injury and Miz holds onto hope that he could win again tonight to turn things around fully. He won't admit this to anyone- even A-Ri- but he kind of misses the confident, annoying Morrison that would take great delight in mocking him at every opportunity.

Unfortunately, Vickie's distraction seems to rid Morrison of whatever focus he had gained, Ziggler continuing to work his neck and back over viciously. It's only a blink later when the bell rings to announce that Dolph's retained, leaving John laying dazed against the mat as he celebrates with Vickie. By the time Zack appears, Morrison has rolled out of the ring, away from the cameras.

Miz scrubs at his face, feeling bad for his former tag partner. Hopefully he doesn't... Oh, screw this. He's out of the room instantly, jogging through the hallways through to the gorilla position. He's not surprised to find Alex already there, looking confused as he peers around. "Alex? Hey." He pauses as Alex jerks at his voice, a worried look across his face. "Where's Morrison?" he wonders, looking around.

"Umm..." Alex flushes, his eyes darting around fretfully.

"Alex?" He frowns, once more taking in their surroundings and fully grasping that Morrison just isn't there. "What the hell? Didn't he come back?" He peers out to the ring and sees nothing.

"I think... I think he left," the rookie mumbles. "I came here to meet him when the match ended but he was already gone. I- the referee said he didn't even stop, just went right for the exit."

Mike groans. "Ok... fabulous." His worry returning ten-fold, he taps Alex on the chest and returns to the locker room, trying unsuccessfully to refocus on the looming main event. Ok, I can't do anything about Morrison now, but... the only thing I can do is win my own match. No point in all of us losing tonight. Match after match goes by and he realizes just as he's getting ready for the tag match that he's only seen Truth for a few minutes here and there through the evening. "What the hell is going on with him?" he mumbles, roughly tying his boot laces together. "I swear, if he costs me this match..."

Truth returns five minutes before they have to go to the gorilla position, a solemn look on his face. "Hey, man."

"Hey." Mike stands and grabs his wrist tape, starting to wound it around his arm when Truth grabs him. He looks up suspiciously, frowning. "What?"

"I... uh, we need to talk about somethin' after the match. Just... give me a few minutes before we leave, a'ight?"

Miz's frown grows at the crypticness of Truth's statement. "Yeah, ok. Is this why you've been... away all night?"

"Uhh. Yeah, somethin' like that."

"You're not gonna tell me anything?"

"No, wanna wait till after the match." Truth's sober glance finally cracks and he smirks. "Don't wanna bring the mood down right now when we're so close to embarrassing Rock and Cena."

Mike sighs, his focus on the match shaky yet again. "Yeah, fine. We'll wait till after the match." His bad feeling grows all the more as they walk towards the ring and Truth doesn't look at him once, the rap all but forgotten. Sure enough, things go downhill quickly in the match and, even though there's visible dissension between Cena and Rock, Miz and Truth lose, quickly forgotten as it becomes all about Cena and Rock's issues... again. They stumble up the ramp, both annoyed and angry, although unsurprised.

As soon as they return to the locker room, Miz slams the door shut behind Truth and turns to face him, eyes glinting dangerously. "Alright. Enough of this teasing wanna wait till after the match crap. The match is over, it is what it is. Now tell me what the hell it is you're being so weird about."

Truth sighs, slumping down on a bench. "You ain't gonna like it."

"Of course I'm not, I haven't liked a lot tonight. Now tell me." He stands next to the door, arms crossed as Truth shifts anxiously under his gaze.

"There was a round of wellness tests, and I was checked."

Mike closes his eyes, rubbing his thumb along his nose. "Don't tell me. You tested positive for something." He kicks the wall behind him, gritting his teeth. "Dammit, Truth!"

"I know, I know. It was dumb. I..."

"We were in the middle of something that could've been great!" Mike yells at him. "We could've gone to the top, working out who was behind our being held down. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn't!" he spits back, kicking the bag nearest him. "Do you think this is easy for me? We went for weeks fired, and I wasn't sure what was gonna happen to me. If HHH hadn't been kicked out of power, I could've been massively screwed, man. There aren't that many options in wrestling, y'know!"

"Oh, don't give me that," Miz responds. "I went through the exact same thing as you did, hell, we were by each others' side for most of it, but I didn't do anything stupid to risk my future!" He huffs, banging the back of his head against the wall. "God, I can't deal with this right now. I'll catch you later." He jerkily leans down and wrenches his bag up, leaving the room.

Alex looks up, hope turning to surprise as he finds Miz standing in the doorway. "Oh, hey."

"Hey. No word from Morrison?"

"No..."

Mike sighs and settles next to him, nudging him with his shoulder as he digs through his bag. "He took the rental when he left, didn't he?"

"Yeah." He picks at some lint on his jeans before looking up, his eyes gleaming with worry. "Do you think he's gonna be ok?"

There's an awkward pause until finally Miz sighs. "I don't know. Hope so." He pulls out some clothes and stands. "Look, I'll get dressed and we'll get out of here, alright?"

"What about Truth?"

"... What about him?"

Half an hour later, Alex peers down at the dark strip of carpet just visible under the door to his and Morrison's hotel room, exchanging a glance with Mike as he unlocks the door quietly. "Shh," he mutters, offput by the darkness and quiet of the room. They've spotted his and John's rental car in the parking lot so he has to be here, but a quick search of the pool, hotel gym, and bar had given them nothing as to the whereabouts of their wayward friend. He leaves the light off, listening for awhile. Finally he nods and enters the room quietly, unsurprised to hear the soft sound of breathing in the room. "He's here," he whispers, quietly dropping his bag down near the corner. As he begins to feel his way around in the dark, Mike huffs and flicks the light on, flooding the room. "Mike!" he hisses, glaring over at the door.

"He's not asleep," the former heavyweight champion says unrepentedly, dropping his own bag next to Alex's before turning to look at the chair across the room. "Isn't that right, John?"

Alex looks up to find him sitting exactly where Mike had looked, eyes closed as he breathes steadily in and out, hands stretched out to his sides as he meditates. "You could tell that just by his breathing?" He shakes his head, weirded out, and not for the first time, by how well the two know each other.

"He used to meditate in the dark all the time," Mike mumbles, not feeling the need to share that he had done it mostly towards the end of their first partnership, when things were growing more tense between them by the day, the need to succeed overwhelming their friendship. What end does this foretell?

Alex sighs. "Alright. This is a first for me." He inanely looks through the room service menu, putting it down upon realizing that they'd stopped serving hours ago. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Mike?"

"No idea. I have media on Wednesday, I'll probably decide after that." His gaze darkens as he thinks about what he'll have to say about Truth's suspension, shaking his head. "What about you?"

Alex makes a face and shrugs. "Not really, I have a match on Superstars."

"Seriously?"

"Ye-"

"And how's your hip?" John chooses that moment to join the conversation, drifting out of the chair to rest on the floor.

"Wait, what? I thought you were fine," Mike says warningly, barely able to decide where to turn his attention to first- his former protege with a recent affinity to hiding injuries, or his former tag partner who's suddenly ok with running from loss and leaving Alex in the lurch. "Alex..."

"It was, uh, the match on Superstars a couple weeks ago. I guess I wasn't as ready for it as I thought." He grimaces as Mike starts looking angrier with each word. "Doctors examined me, suggested surgery... but I don't want to go that route just yet. I'm ok for awhile, as long as I take it easy."

"You idiot. What the hell did I do to deserve being surrounded by ridiculous fools!" At the end of his rope, Miz grabs Alex by the jaw, fingers digging in harshly, and stares at him, eyes blistering with anger. "You're risking permanent injury by pulling this bull, A-Ri. You know this, don't you? I know I taught you better," he snaps, shaking him slightly with each word. "You don't disregard doctor's orders because you're prideful and just know you're going to be fine. What'll happen the one time you're not? And you," he snaps, turning his anger to John. "You knew he's hurt and you still leave him behind at the arena with no way to get back to the hotel?"

"I knew you wouldn't leave him stranded." John looks calm, too calm. It makes Mike all the more angry, disgusted with everyone in his orbit keeping things held under a facade of calmness.

"No, that's apparently your job," Mike snaps, now leering down at Morrison. "How dare all of you. I try so damn hard and you all are just carrying on like none of it matters, like injuries and losses and stupidity means nothing! Well, it does, dammit! You can't just... keep doing this. God!"

"Mike-" Alex says quietly, watching as John's whole body tenses up, his face frozen as he peers up at Mike. "Just-"

"I don't know what your problem is, Mike, but I don't see Alex laying into me for leaving him at the arena. Like I said, he was fine, I wouldn't have left him behind otherwise. Not sure if you've noticed but I haven't had the greatest night myself here, because, yeah, y'know, I think the GM kinda threw me to the wolves. No one cared I was out there tonight, they all wanted Zack frickin' Ryder. Which is great for Zack, but makes me feel like crap. I try hard too and no one cares, it doesn't matter. So just... I don't care." He stands up quickly, almost knocking a surprised Mike over, and pokes him in the chest. "If you think Alex has a reason to be mad at me, then let Alex tell me about it, I'm sure he doesn't need you to fight his battles for him. You were fine letting him go off on his own months back, maybe you should actually let him do things on his own now."

"And what, so he can end up like you, injured and returning too damn early and ending up here?" Mike volleys back, slapping John's hand away. When even that small bit of contact leaves the other man cringing, Miz nods viciously. "See! See what I mean! You wrestle one match and it's like you never even had a post-op recovery period! God, John!"

"Oh, shut up! I'm fine, it's just going to take time!" Before anything else can be said or done, Alex is between the two of them, pushing them apart with enough strength that Mike ends up against the bed and John is dumped unceremoniously back in the chair he had just vacated minutes earlier. They both gaze up at him in surprise as he glares from one side to the other.

"Stop it. We're not helping each other by arguing like this. Mike, I don't know why you're this pissed off, but stop taking it out on us. My hip issues are manageable, and we knew John's nerve damage would take awhile to heal. You yelling at us isn't helping things any!" He huffs desperately before returning to his own bed, officially done with listening to them. As Mike drops onto the other bed, he flicks the TV on and mindlessly turns from channel to channel while waiting for the next explosion to come. It never does, all three men too exhausted to even look at each other, much less pick battles.

The next day, Mike arrives at Pennsylvania's arena, desperately holding his temper even as Truth follows him slowly, his duffel held awkwardly over his shoulder. His suspension is scheduled to begin the next day, Truth explaining that he had spent the PPV yesterday somehow convincing the WWE higher ups to hold off until after tonight's event. What his trick was exactly, he hadn't revealed. Mike had returned to their hotel room the night before, too tense while in the same room as John and Alex, but they had barely talked up to this point.

"Mike, wait!"

Well, all good things come to an end. He sighs and slows, turning to look at Truth. "What?"

"Are we good?"

Mike sighs. "Yeah, we're fine. Come on." They stop at the board with the scheduled matches and segments, staring at them for a moment. Nothing planned, again, for any of them. He tilts his head, frowning at it. It had become a much too common occurence, this lack of regular activity in all of their careers. Without a word to Truth, he turns and heads for their locker room. As he watches Truth set his stuff down, he can't help but think about the next month that will be free of the other man. It actually sounds nice, after so long of listening to his rambles about spiders and conspiracies and every person from Evan Bourne to HHH holding him down.

Mike leaves the room within the first hour, wanting to talk to Alex and John. After the night before, he had felt a lingering sense of wrongness, not liking how he had left things with either man. He remembers the things he had said in anger, grimacing, as he comes across Alex standing alone near catering. "Hey."

Alex jerks, surprised once more. "Oh, hey, Mike." He looks off yet again and Mike merely frowns at him before he crumbles. "I haven't seen John since last night," he admits quietly. "He... he went home, I think. Mike... I get the feeling... I think he's done."

Mike closes his eyes, the harsh words he had yelled at him the night before echoing back mockingly. "Son of a bitch," he hisses tiredly.

Alex nods slightly. Neither seem willing to leave so they hang around for awhile, watching people come and go. "What's going on, Mike? Usually you're so obsessed with not cluing Truth off that we're all working together, you barely say one word to me during a show, much less hang around."

"I don't want it overheard," he says blandly. "You'll know soon enough."

"Oh, ok." The younger man frowns, confused. The silence is almost painful, both unsure how to break it or if they even want to, but they're even less interested in going their own ways. Mike only leaves at the bottom half of the second hour to catch up with Truth, half-heartedly waving at Alex as he goes.

Cena is in the ring, going on and on about the night prior when Truth and Mike make their way down. It feels good to Mike, carthartic mostly to mock the former rapper, until Truth takes over and starts going on with his own weird rambles. Miz's aggravation ratchets up, only fueled further when Cena takes back over, telling Truth that Mike thinks he's insane- who seriously doesn't, though?- and Mike that Truth thinks he's an egotistical glory hog who only became lucky after his stint in the Real World. It's such a tired old argument, and Mike is far from angry about it, but Truth looks suspicious as Cena leaves.

The argument that follows has so little to do with what Cena said, at least from Miz's point of view, that he's not even sure where it began, this pure level of animosity that he had grown good at controlling since they had been fired together. With Truth in his face, screaming at him repeatedly not to call him stupid, he snaps all the further and pushes him. The punch that follows is surprising, sends him tripping over his own feet into the corner. He collects himself and finally seems to be getting through to the other man about this all being Cena's big plan, the wheels spinning at hyper speed in his mind. Morrison, Alex... The world championship, my career, he thinks wistfully of everything that this team with Truth had caused him, however briefly. The more subdued emotion mixes with the pure anger and he speaks before he can think it through fully. "Let's go get Cena, this is all his fault!" He quickly tears off his jacket, relieved when the motion is mimicked by his tag partner, before following Truth up the ramp, eyes locked on his back as they head towards the back.

They're at the very top, where the metal is the sturdiest, before Mike grabs him and slings him around, arm wrapped around his neck. This is for John, he thinks viciously, this is for everything. One sweep of the leg later and he smashes Truth into the grating, watching with a pleased gleam in his eye as the maddened superstar stays down even when referees begin swarming to check on him. Enjoy your suspension. He's turned on many partners during his many years in the business, left quite a few behind as well, but none feel as right as this one.

As he storms into the back and stares at a shocked Alex, he smiles for the first time in what feels like forever. "I'm free," he comments with a small laugh. That is something to be thankful for. The only thing missing from the moment is, of course, the look on Morrison's face, his exasperated, amused comments. "I think I know what we need to do now," he comments quietly, gripping Alex by the arm and leading him back to the locker rooms.

Mid-afternoon the next day, they inch down the hall, hissing at each other the whole way, smiling awkwardly whenever they walk past other people living in the apartment complex. "Careful! ... Quiet! ... Alex, I swear, if you drop this..." Finally they're at the right door and Mike gingerly rests his half of the burden onto the carpet, pulling out the key Morrison had given him while injured. He rolls his eyes at a hesitant looking Alex, quickly pushing the door open. "Go! If he attacks, defend the food at all cost," he orders grimly, leaning over to pick up his own sacks. "Damn stuff's expensive."

By the time he makes it into the apartment, Alex has his settled on the kitchen counter, frowning. "Are you sure he's home?"

"The car's out front, so yeah, probably. Unless he walked somewhere. Hmmm." Mike shrugs and puts his own bag down before venturing into the next room. He stops, troubled. "John?"

Morrison, sitting on the couch staring out the window at the nice California weather, barely reacts to his voice. "What do you want, Mike?" His voice is dull, exhausted.

Mike's heart feels heavy as he wanders further into the room and sits across from him, shaking his head. "Alex is with me, Johnny. We... um, we brought some food. He has a match on Thursday and I have media tomorrow but I thought we could have an impromptu Thanksgiving thing." When John finally looks up, Mike's smile doesn't waver though he feels a little ill at just how worn down the other man looks. What have I missed while stuck with Truth? I didn't know it was this bad... "I managed to find coconut cream pie. There's pumpkin too, of course."

"I-" he looks like he's about to refuse so Mike moves quickly, drops a hand on top of his, squeezing slightly to shut him up.

"Come on. Two kinds of pie, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, rolls, the turkey... you're not really going to leave Alex and I to handle all this food, are you?" He sobers slightly, digging his fingers into John's palm to get his attention. Once they're eye to eye, he smiles slightly. "We won't talk about anything, alright? It's just food. We'll eat, we'll find something crappy on TV, and that'll be the crux of it. Does that sound ok?"

Some of the pain on John's face slowly subsides and he grins slightly. "Ok, yeah." He unfolds himself from the couch as Mike stands and they walk side by side towards the nice smells wafting from the kitchen. "Where the hell did you two manage to find a turkey this close to Thursday?"

"Well, it is California. Thank God for tofurkey taking the attention away from proper Thanksgiving for some," Alex says with a chuckle.