Back to Basics: Against the Grain (part 1)

[corneroffandom]

This is set whenever during Miz's world title reign but before TLC. It's obviously set in Back to Basic's universe, but it doesn't completely connect to anything storyline wise over there. Yes, this is my AU of an AU. lol I'm not a psychiatrist or a doctor, but tried to make things seem real...

Miz shifts the WWE title against his shoulder and smirks as Alex Riley follows him through the hallways. Sometimes he likes to just walk with it out in the open, absorbing the annoyed glances that jealous co-competitors shoot his way as he walks past them. He's just ahead of the gorilla position when he realizes that Alex isn't following him any longer. He turns to find his NXT rookie lingering by the titantron, gaping out at the ring along with a growing crowd of people. "What's going on?" he demands, a little put out that even his apprentice's attention has been dragged away from him. The evening's house show is still hours away from starting so whatever it is can't be that amazing, he thinks grumpily, before elbowing his way into a position where he can see down the ramp and into the ring perfectly. What he sees takes a minute to register but when it does, his jaw drops-- pausing only momentarily before he instinctively goes into action, grabbing Alex by the collar of his "My Name is Awesome" shirt. "Get a chair, now," he orders, pushing his title belt into the hands of a nearby crew member before dashing after him to find something to defend himself with.

He passes by R Truth a few feet away and it's a split second decision, his hand snaking out and grabbing his arm. Before he can swing a punch at the man waylaying him, Miz pushes him back. "There's no time for this, grab a chair or some kind of weapon and follow me! NOW!"

If anything, it's the desperation in the WWE champion's voice that's rarely ever heard that causes Truth to listen to him, quickly grabbing the nearest chair. As soon as they've all found chairs, they meet up at the gorilla position. Truth only looks for a second before the meaning of all of this madness comes to him. He's running down the ramp before Miz can even say anything else.

"Dammit," Miz grumbles before nodding briskly at Alex. They quickly rush down, Alex sliding into the ring too as Miz stays on the outside, watching with wary eyes as Husky Harris and Michael McGullicutty are taken down first. Otunga, attracted by the sound, turns just to get a face full of steel from both men as they do an impromptu and unplanned conchairto, downing him immediately. Slater and Gabriel are now all that stands between the two and Wade Barrett, who is ignoring everything around him while punching and kicking John Morrison relentlessly.

Alex moves first, taking a wild swing and missing as Heath ducks under and goes for Truth. Miz rolls his eyes as Gabriel manages a drop toehold, sending Alex facefirst into his own steel chair. Mike takes the moment of distraction his apprentice's bumble causes and slams his chair into Heath from the outside after Truth pulls a partial split, his own forward motion sending the redheaded Nexus member into the ropes nearest the WWE champion. As Gabriel goes after Truth, the speedy wrestler slings his chair up and slams it right into Justin's skull, downing him.

As soon as the path is clear, Miz slides into the ring and dashes past the various downed Nexus members, a wobbly Alex-- who's barely regained his footing-- and R Truth watching over them all with chairs at the ready, just waiting for any movement.

Wade is still pinning Morrison in the corner, his hands now wrapped viciously around the thinner man's throat. Even though Mike only manages glimpses now and again of John, he can see from where he's standing how the man's lips are slowly turning blue, his struggles growing weaker as more time passes. "HEY!" he yells, moving to swing his chair straight at Barrett's head. He's not surprised when Wade quickly retreats, releasing Morrison-- who slumps bonelessly against the turnbuckle before slipping down to the mat-- and slides under the bottom rope to recollect Nexus.

The instant Barrett is gone, Miz abandons his weapon and drops down in front of John, grabbing the limp man by his shoulders. "You better be breathing, you idiot," he mumbles softly, dragging him closer so he's half leaning against Miz's shoulder. He relaxes slightly when he feels his chest rise and fall against his arm. "John? Johnny?" It feels like they sit there forever, Miz's focus on every twitch and labored breath coming from the man.

"Mike?" John mutters hoarsely after a few moments, his hand weakly reaching up to grip Miz's sleeve.

"Finally," he sighs, pushing back a bit so he can get a better look at Morrison. Finger shaped bruises are already forming around his throat and Mike cringes as he sees the damage. However, his lips are steadily returning to a normal shade so Miz doesn't say anything, tugging John back against him once more as he tries not to think about how bad things could've been if he and Alex hadn't walked by the gorilla position at that moment. "You're ok," he mumbles. It's only a matter of moments before relief turns to anger though, as he wonders why exactly Nexus would choose now to go after Morrison, when they've stopped randomly attacking people for the most part, the bulk of their aggression aimed on Cena in recent weeks. Maybe they've grown tired of him, which I can't say I blame them but... why go after Morrison?

"Is he alright?" Truth asks, squatting down to get a good look at his former tag partner.

"I'm fine," Morrison whispers, still leaning against Miz as he struggles to breathe normally once more, his throat tender.

"You don't sound it," Truth comments, pressing a hand against John's shoulder. "Think the trainer should look you over, man."

Morrison groans at this prospect but says nothing as Miz nudges him, easing him against the turnbuckle once more before standing up. "For once, I agree with Truth," he says with an overexaggerated painful look on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, if you did more often, maybe you wouldn't have half the problems you do," the rapper snaps, grinning down at Morrison as he shakes his head at his former tag partners' argument.

"If you two could stop bickering, I'd like to get this over with," he forces out, a trembling hand going to his throat barely halfway through the sentence. It's this show of discomfort more than anything that gets the show on the road, as they ease him out of the ring, to his feet and help him to the back. Alex follows slowly behind, steel chair at the ready in case Nexus comes back for round two.

The trip to the trainer's office goes easily, however, as Nexus is nowhere to be found and every wrestler in the building seems prepared to defend themselves, steel chairs and other weapons held at the ready as they watch Miz and Truth help Morrison to the small room set aside for the trainer to do his business in. Yeah, sure, they have no problem preparing now but could they help John at all earlier? Of course not... bunch of mindless children, they're only mimicking my actions. They'd all be nothing without me, Miz thinks angrily, focusing once more on John's uneven breathing to distract himself from the emotions building up within him.

"Just a little further," Truth says, Miz glancing over at him briefly. Worry is visible in his dark eyes as well as he secures Morrison's grip around his shoulder, ignoring the intense shaking that they both can feel.

This sucks, he thinks, wanting to glance back at Alex but not willing to let go of John as they continue hesitantly down the hallway. They finally reach the trainer's room, all three of them releasing a sigh almost simultaneously as they settle Morrison down on the couch to be looked over.

Truth wanders over to tell the trainer what exactly happened as Miz pats John on the shoulder briskly. "I'll be back in a little bit," he comments slowly, marching purposely to the door.

"Miz--" Alex says, confusion bleeding into his tone.

"Let him go," Miz overhears Morrison before the door slips closed, his voice still raw and painful.

He swallows as soon as he's out of sight of the people within the trainer's office, resting his head against the cool wall. He's fairly defenseless right now, Alex's chair still inside the room and the other chairs left in the ring in their rush to get Morrison checked out. Hell, he realizes with a mirthless chuckle, I don't even know where my title belt's at... Some champion I am. He begins pacing back and forth in front of the trainer's door, mumbling to himself as he tries not to think of the examination going on inside. He'll be fine, he'll be fine. He was breathing, talking. It'll take more than Barrett's weak grip to do real damage... right? He anxiously reaches out for the door, as if his very touch will reveal to him what's going on behind the walls, but he steps back a few seconds later, unwilling to enter. I'm stressed out and when I'm stressed out, I get hyper. He needs to stay calm right now, so I'm better staying out here. Let R Truth handle it... Did I really just think that?

He's still standing out there, staring blankly ahead when Alex comes out to find him, despite Morrison's earlier comment. "I don't know what to do," he confesses. "Even pacing back and forth doesn't feel right... you know? I want to do something but there's very little I can do. And by the way, never ever google search strangulation. Every article goes right to the worst case scenario." He frowns down at the phone held tightly in his right hand and shakes his head, dropping it into his pocket to keep from smashing it in his grip. "Has the trainer said anything yet?"

"He wants Morrison to get checked out at the ER," Alex says slowly, waiting for Miz to react before continuing. As soon as he nods, the rookie takes in a deep breath and proceeds. "He wants to make sure there's nothing he's missed but he thinks he'll be alright. He said, um... since Morrison is breathing alright on his own and the hospital's only a few minutes away, he could either be driven in or an ambulance could be called--"

It only takes Miz a split second to decide-- ambulance would take too long, who knows where Nexus is hiding-- and Alex looks unsurprised at the words that flow from his downturned lips as he looks around, obviously weighing his decision and possible fall out from it even as he speaks. "We'll take him."

R Truth looks up as they enter and nods briefly before turning his attention back to John, who's still holding onto his throat. "I'll check in with you after my match tonight. Do you need help getting him to the car?" This is directed to Miz but before he can answer, Morrison shakes his head.

"I can walk," he mumbles, the return of that familiar stubborn pride making them all feel a little better.

"Yeah, we'll be fine," Miz agrees, relieved to be rid of Truth for right now. Sure, I'm the one who dragged him into this, but Riley and I are quite capable of getting Morrison to the ER on our own...

After they tell the trainer no ambulance and listen to his warnings of what to watch for despite the hospital's proximity to the arena, the walk from the trainer's office to the parking lot is slow, somber, as Miz hovers near Morrison, taking in every grimace and strained breath he releases and comparing it to what the trainer had said. Alex stays a bit behind them, eyes darting back and forth, over his shoulder and to the path in front of Miz and Morrison in case Nexus should try another ambush.

The instant they walk outside, the chilly December air that greets them freezes a path down Morrison's already abused throat, causing him to cough hoarsely. He groans and grips at his raw throat, trying to catch a deep breath despite the pure agony each causes. Miz grabs him by the arm instinctively, keeps him upright as they pause a moment, his breathing echoing around the immediate area. "Take it easy, John. Just breathe slowly." It's a testament to how crappy the prideful Morrison is feeling that he doesn't shake his grip off immediately, and just makes Mike mentally go over everything the trainer said again as they wait to make sure he hasn't missed anything.

Alex stands between them and the door, trying not to make a face at the horrible wheezing sounds coming from Morrison as he struggles to follow Miz's commands.  He distracts himself by keeping an eye on the surrounding area, mentally begging Nexus to stay away as he shifts his grip on the steel chair that he's not let out of his sight since the initial attack against Morrison. It's a relief when Morrison forces out a strained, "I'm fine. Let's go" and Miz accepts it, despite the disbelief flickering on his face.

When they finally arrive at the car, they all release sighs of relief. "Here," Miz mumbles, for once not paying attention to the cold steel keys biting into his gloveless hands, quickly unlocking the car doors so Morrison can get in. Before Alex can say or do anything, Mike flips the keys towards him. "You drive," he says once his apprentice has a steady grip on them. He prods Morrison with a brusque "Move over" before joining him in the back seat.

It's a side of Miz Alex hasn't seen a lot of-- sure, he's always present, badgering Alex to admit when he feels like crap after a match or harrassing the trainer about what's wrong-- but to actually take all the responsibility upon himself... I wonder if he'd go to this much trouble if it was me, he thinks, feeling guilty and uncomfortable almost immediately at the thought. He shakes his head and forces himself to stop watching through the back window as Miz frowns at a motionless Morrison, who is leaning back against the seat with his eyes closed, and slips into the driver's seat. He vaguely remembers seeing the hospital on the way to the arena earlier so he pulls out of the parking lot silently, leaving Miz to focus on Morrison's breathing and keeping him awake.

As soon as they arrive at the hospital, Alex hesitates while Miz taps Morrison on the arm until he peeks over with an unhappy glower. "We're at the ER," he says simply. "Stop being lazy." Despite his bland tone, his face is pinched worriedly as he slips back out of the car, leaning over to watch as Morrison awkwardly pulls himself towards the door. As soon as Morrison is standing safely on the pavement, Miz nods briskly at Alex. "Go park the car, I'll get him inside."

"Alright," Alex mumbles, only pausing for a minute to watch as they awkwardly make their way through the ER doors before pulling away from the entrance to search the parking lot for a free space.

Miz leads Morrison over to the front desk, keeping an eye on him as they wait for the rapidly typing nurse to pay them attention. Finally he clears his throat and the dark haired woman looks up with a raised eyebrow. "Yes? May I help you?" she asks, sounding a bit put out.

He ignores her, tugging John closer so she can get a good look at him. "My friend here was attacked and strangled, maybe he should be checked out some time tonight?" he suggests, biting sarcasm overwhelming her own reaction ten fold, at least.

She glances over at Morrison, taking in the finger shaped marks along his throat, and immediately snaps her mouth shut on the equally caustic response. "I see. Take him back to that room," she comments, pointing to a small room off to the side. "A nurse will be in shortly to get information. Then we'll get him into an ER room ASAP to be looked at by a doctor."

"Ok," Miz mumbles, nudging John towards the room indicated. He's just settled against the wall across from where Morrison sits to wait with him when he happens to glance out the window into the waiting room just visible past the desk, catching sight of a worried looking Alex. He rolls his eyes and presses a thumb to the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "Hey, I'll be back in a second," he says reluctantly. After Morrison nods slightly, he pulls away from the wall and joins Alex as he shifts his weight anxiously from leg to leg. "What is it?"

"One of the techs called me just after I parked the car," he says, fretting his lip. "People are freaking out because you're not there--"

"Of course they are," he mumbles, automatically falling back on cockiness while only half listening to Alex, mind running through the possibilities of what Morrison's condition could actually be, why Nexus did what they did, and what it all could mean for the upcoming weeks. As if I needed more stress tacked onto my championship reign, he thinks before refocusing on A-Ri, who appears to be waiting for some sort of reaction. "What?"

"They want us back at the arena, or else," Alex repeats himself, taking an instinctive step back from Miz as the news sinks in.

His eyes dart to the side, where he can just see Morrison through the window, tentatively rubbing the area around his throat. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, trying not to dwell on how easy it is for him to just breathe when John could barely gasp not even half an hour ago, due to Wade Barrett. "Fine," he grumbles. "Let me talk to Morrison for a minute and we'll go."

"Alright," Alex nods, eyes lit in quiet sympathy for his conflicted mentor as he reenters the room. He watches through the window as Miz rolls the only other chair in the small room over to sit next to John, his frown widening as he talks softly to the exhausted looking man. John nods blankly and Alex wonders how much of Miz's speech he's grasped when the champion stands up, reaching out towards him. Morrison tenses up, the sudden cornered look on his face visible even through the streaked glass separating Alex from his mentor, and Miz pauses immediately, lips parting worriedly.

In the end he shakes it off, walking towards the door. "We'll... be back a little later, Morrison," he calls over his shoulder, glaring at the floor a moment before grabbing Alex by the sleeve and pushing him towards the door. "Let's get this over with."

The match is some nothing tag match, held at the end of the card and Alex watches as Miz paces around for at least half an hour before their turn to enter the ring. "I'm sure he's fine," the rookie offers hesitantly before their cue.

"Of course he will," Miz brushes off his comment like it's nothing. His eyes are always a big give away though, no matter what he may be saying, and Alex feels better when he sees a glimmer of appreciation lingering there as they fall into their positions for the match.

Their team loses but it doesn't seem to matter very much to Miz as he nudges Alex and heads up the ramp, an angry glower on his face. There's a meeting afterwards to go over the traveling schedule the upcoming week and hotels booked for the superstars, boring things like that, when Mike clears his throat, interrupting the road agent's speech. He looks annoyed before sighing, putting his clipboard down. "Yes?"

"As you might've heard, Nexus attacked Morrison earlier, before the event began." When the agent looks unsurprised, he continues, struggling to keep his tone level as his co-competitors whisper amongst each other. "He's in the ER right now."

"Any word on how bad it is?" the agent asks, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

"I had to come back here before I could find out. Doubt he'll be around for Raw tomorrow night, though," he says with determination, raising an eyebrow at the man as he continues writing on his sheet of paper.

"Fine. That's all for this meeting."

"Finally," Miz grumbles, motioning to Alex as he hurriedly walks back to his locker room, Alex keeping a close eye out for the Nexus members as he follows him.

Packing their things, remembering at the last moment to also grab Morrison's bag that was left behind after the attack earlier, and the trip back to the ER goes by in a blur, as Miz drives fast even for him. Alex wisely says nothing, simply making sure his belt is clasped securely as they rush towards the hospital.

Miz doesn't even wait for Alex as he's out of the car as soon as it's stopped, roughly pulling the keys from the ignition. "Come on," he urges, already walking towards the hospital as Alex slams the car door shut, the small chirping noise from the keychain locking the doors automatically following the sound almost immediately.

Almost two hours have passed since they left the ER to go back to the arena but shifts haven't changed yet, as the nurse recognizes them. "John Morrison, right?" she asks with a calm smile as they shift anxiously in front of her.

"Yeah, can we see him?" Miz asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Of course, follow me." As she makes her way around the desk, they follow her back to an ER room where the lights are dimmed, a plastic blue sheet stretching from floor to ceiling from hooks blocking the bed from view. "He's been sleeping," she explains softly as she pushes the door open and slips past the sheet. "I thought some privacy would be warranted so some fan wouldn't recognize him and come barging in on him or something."

"Good idea," Miz mumbles as he takes in his sleeping former tag partner, curled up on his side with his hand tangled up in the thin white sheet covering him. "How's his breathing?"

"Better," the nurse offered. "We have him on a pulse oximetry." She smiles and points to one of the monitors near his bed. "See that percentage? 96%. That's how much oxygen he's getting. We don't have him on any oxygen so this is his natural level. As long as it's over 90%, we're comfortable with it." She then whispers, "The doctor will be in shortly to talk to you more. I'll be back a little later to check in on him."

"Ok. Thanks," Miz whispers back before pulling a chair next to Morrison's bed. "You're really great at getting yourself into some deep crap, huh, Johnny?" he mumbles, sitting down quietly as Alex settles down in the only other chair in the room, not bothering to move it from its place near the counter across from the bed. From this angle, even in the dim lighting, he can see how the finger shaped bruises have darkened around his throat. He remembers how John had frozen when Miz reached out to touch him earlier and looks away, hands clenching around the chair arm angrily. If I had gotten there sooner... If the guys content to just sit around and watch from the gorilla positon had spines... maybe it wouldn't have been this bad? "I'm sorry."

The silence that follows Miz's quiet apology is broken after a moment when the door opens to admit a doctor. As soon as he sees that Morrison is asleep, he murmurs, "In the hall?" At Miz's nod, he and Alex follow the tall, dark haired man out of the room.

"How is he?" Miz asks once the door click shuts behind them, not bothering to wait for introductions, the need for silence fading away as soon as he knows that they don't risk waking Morrison up.

"He's doing well," the doctor begins by saying, smiling as Miz releases a breath. "We ran a few tests and scans of his throat, just to make sure, but there looks to be no permanent damage. In fact, as soon as he wakes up enough to sign discharge papers, which will be brought in shortly, he can leave. As long as someone will be with him, to keep an eye on his breathing."

"He'll be with us," Mike says immediately, not even needing a minute to consider it.

"Alright, I'll tell the nurse to bring the papers in ASAP," the doctor nods, holding his hand out to shake Miz's. "By the way, I'm Dr. Gold. If you have any questions or concerns, please ask for me."

"Alright, thanks, Doc." As soon as the social pleasantries are handled and the doctor turns on his heel to presumably check on his other patients, Mike reenters the ER room, unsurprised to find Morrison stirring slightly as he and Alex wordlessly return to their seats.

Miz waits, quietly picking at his fingernails, unsurprised as John calms, remains asleep. He looks up and smirks at a frowning Alex. "You don't have plans, do you?"

"What?"

"Might be here awhile, is all," he mumbles, attempting to settle in a little more comfortably in the hard-backed chair. "He can be a heavy sleeper sometimes..."

"Oh. No, I've got nothing," A-Ri replies, blinking. It's relatively early on a Sunday night, he could find something but leaving Miz alone in some strange hospital while Nexus is still out to do... who knows what doesn't sit too well with him. Tonight feels weird, he decides, shifting to the side as he glances out into the quiet hallway, watching the nurses hovering around the front desk that's just in view of Morrison's temporary room. Probably just paranoia though. That attack was... He sighs, a muted little sound, as his hand twitches into a fist around the chair's armrest.

"Brutal," Miz says a few moments later, eyebrow raising as Alex's head jerks up, a shocked look on his face. "The chairs," he explains with a distracted flutter of his hand as he looks back over at John, who's shifting once more in his sleep. The muted glow from the strip of lighting over the hospital bed is just enough to cast a shadow beneath his face, making the dull bruises along his throat look even darker. Miz forces himself to look away, unable to stare for long at signs of the abuse he had endured while others were content to stand around and watch without wanting to explode or punch something. Or both.

"Yeah," Alex mumbles, unsure what to say. Morrison sighs softly, his eyes fluttering restlessly, when the plastic sheet blocking Morrison's bed from the main hallway's view is pushed aside and the nurse enters, the release forms held securely in one hand.

She smiles, bemused, at finding him still asleep and locks eyes with Miz, who shrugs as if to say What can ya do? "The ER's not really busy so we don't need his bed right now," she whispers, quietly handling the clipboard to him. "He can sleep a little longer, looks like he needs it. Just make sure he signs that before he goes."

"Will do," Mike nods, relieved that he won't have to deal with getting a groggy, persumably grumpy Morrison to sign forms and then walk to the car right away. Once she leaves with a small smile, he falls quiet once more, eyes drifting from the bland beige tiles over to the different machines still monitoring John's vitals back to the floor.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's thinking about-- the Nexus attack is weighing heavily on both of them. Alex has no idea why they attacked now, what the purpose of it was. Something about it makes him uncomfortable though, and if his mentor's facial expression is any indication, he feels much the same.

Their thoughts are interrupted when, almost fifteen minutes later with no warning, Morrison wakes up coughing harshly, his hand immediately going to his still tender throat. His eyes widen as he looks around in groggy confusion, the heart monitor's beeps speeding up as he fails to recognize his surroundings right away. Before Alex can even attempt to think of what to do or say, Miz leans forward and rests a hand on John's shoulder. "Hey, John. It's alright. You're in the ER, remember?"

His dark eyes settle on Mike as he sucks in a deep breath, shaking his head. "Mike?" His voice is still rough, thick with sleep. It makes Alex cringe almost as much as the heart monitor's repetitive beeps just seconds ago did.

"Yep." He watches as John looks at the different equipment still connected to him and smiles slightly, patting him on the arm before leaning back in his chair. Feigned nonchalance bleeds off of him, mostly to calm Morrison down more. His heart rate slows a little and Alex sighs, looking away. "You're going to be fine, by the by. Nurse was in a little bit ago with some forms for you to sign-- then we can get out of here."

Miz's calm speech seems to do the job as the heart monitor's rapid beeping eases down to a more normal level just during that sentence. Alex can't help but wonder just how many times over the years they've gone through something similar as Morrison takes the forms from Mike and skims them, mumbling tiredly to himself before quickly signing next to the bright yellow X's the nurse had thoughtfully placed on the forms.

"Now that that's done... ready to get out of here?" Mike asks, pushing the chair back as he stands up. At Morrison's nod, he tugs the clipboard out of his hands. "I'll take this to the nurse's desk, be back in a second."

The awkward silence that follows his departing footsteps is nothing short of incredible as John and Alex look everywhere but at each other. The two don't really care for the other but a sort of silent agreement had been made between the two back when Miz and Morrison started getting along better, mostly because of the tension already surrounding Miz due to the Email GM and the issues dogging his first title run. It's just easier for Alex to ignore Morrison and vice versa, especially when around Mike.

So the wait for Miz to return seems to take forever, A-Ri releasing a soft sigh of relief when his mentor finally returns, a nurse in tow. "Well, good morning," she says cheerfully, smiling at the still sleepy-looking John Morrison. "I hear you're ready to get out of here." With expert fingers, she carefully unclasps the different monitors connected to him and, digging around inside a closet, pulls out a bag. "Here are your things."

"Thanks," he murmurs, tugging out his shirt and pulling it automatically over the scrubs top they had him change into before the tests. As soon as he stands up, Miz shifts slightly so he's standing within arm's reach of him.

"Ready?"

"Yes," John says quietly, nodding at the nurse as he follows Mike out of the room. Alex stays a bit behind and simply observes as the two men quietly walk through the hallways towards the exit.

Once they arrive outside, he moves ahead of the other two, leading the way to the car. He mindlessly rattles the keychain back and forth, his thoughts and worries clearing briefly as he breathes in the cool November air. Something tells me we're far from done with all of this, he thinks as he unlocks the car and slips into the driver's seat, unsurprised as Morrison slides into the back seat and Miz follows him, obviously taking his job of keeping an eye on John and his breathing very seriously.

The drive to the hotel is silent, Alex not even bothering to turn the radio on during the relatively short ride. Morrison doesn't talk, content to lean back and half-doze as they drive, still worn out and in pain from the attack. The bruises spanning his throat look even worse in the pale gleam from streetlights and Miz alternates between not wanting to see and unable to look away.

Miz and Alex exchange a glance as soon as they arrive at the hotel, both knowing: As glad as they'll be to get inside and settled, Nexus will more likely than not be registered to the same hotel, which opens them all up to a whole other possible set of problems. "Park the car," Miz says tersely before Alex can stop at the front door to drop them off. "We'll all go in together."

The relief that Alex feels at these simple words is almost staggering and keeps him from parking very straight but Miz doesn't complain, already distracted as he tries to nudge John back to complete consciousness. "Come on, Johnny. We're at the hotel. Time to go inside."

He groans and scrubs at his face but slowly comes to, looking around. "Ok," he mumbles, hand immediately going to his throat. He starts patting his pockets, face relaxing vaguely as he pulls out a hotel key. "Room 239," he mumbles, squinting at it in the half light as Miz reaches over Morrison and opens the car door.

"No, John, you're not going back to your room tonight," he says, rolling his eyes at how that sounds. "Alex, can you...?" Before he can finish the sentence, Alex gets out of the car and pulls the door open the rest of the way, waiting as Morrison pulls himself out of the car gingerly. He's barely on his feet when Miz joins them, looking around the quiet parking lot pensively. "Come on, let's get our bags."

Alex hisses through his teeth, shaking his head as he realizes how close he's come to forgetting about the three duffels waiting patiently in the trunk. Yeah, forgetting your gear in the trunk of some nondescript rental is just asking for trouble, he rebukes himself. In the end, he carries Morrison's and his own while Miz takes care of his own, which is a first in their mentor-rookie relationship.

"Let's get moving." It's somewhat slow going, with John too sleepy and sore to go very fast, so Miz and Alex keep a close eye on the surrounding areas, some of the tension leaving them as soon as they get inside the hotel. "I think Nexus is staying here so keep an eye out," Mike mutters to Riley, who nods quietly, glancing around. "If we weren't all wiped out, I'd suggest we change hotels but who knows if we could find anywhere good to stay at this hour. When we go to Raw tomorrow, we can scope out a better hotel then."

"Alright," Alex agrees, relaxing even more as they enter the elevator. He's normally not the paranoid type but with the way this evening's going, it feels very good to be locked in these four walls, away from stares and whispers, even for the short time it takes to go to floor three. He goes first, leaving Miz to keep an eye on an amenably exhausted Morrison, peering down the hallway-- left and right and once more for good measure before ducking back into the elevator. "Coast is clear," he says, feeling like some top secret spy or something equally cool.

Miz nods, relief flashing across his intense blue eyes. "Good. Let's go, Morrison." He reaches out for him, faltering as he remembers the reaction his sudden movement earlier in the hospital room caused. However, this time John barely reacts, yawning with a grimace as he makes his way out of the elevator. Miz sighs and shrugs, face heating up slightly as he looks everywhere but at Alex. "This way, John," he mumbles, walking to the left. Morrison follows, looking around blearily as Alex trails along after them.

Thankfully the hallway is quiet as they hover outside of their door, Alex patting his different jeans pockets upon putting the duffels down safely. "Come on," he mumbles, it being his turn to blush slightly as Miz stares tensely at him. "Aha!" He grins as he finally finds the keycard. "Here we go." He sticks it inside the key slot, closing his eyes in relief as the lock clicks open. Thank God.

"Go on," Miz mumbles, hoisting his own bag up higher as Alex turns to pick his and John's up. Morrison leads the way inside, immediately sinking into the nearest chair. Miz keeps quiet as he walks past him, dropping his bag under the window across from the beds. As Alex drops the other bags near his, Mike straightens up and faces Morrison, raising an eyebrow at the man. "Up."

"What?" he rasps, grimacing at that simple word.

"Take one of the beds," he says slowly, prodding Morrison's boot with the toe of his own when he doesn't respond immediately. "Move it."

John looks like he wants to argue but the instant he opens his mouth, the lines of pain across his face grow more pronounced. He presses his lips together tightly and releases a shaky breath, slowly struggling out of the chair. Halfway to the bed, he turns back towards Mike, who shakes his head wordlessly. Giving up, John huffs faintly and collapses onto the mattress, not even caring that the sheets are starched almost to the point of being able to stand up on their own.

Appeased, Miz enters the bathroom. He pokes his head back out a second later and looks back and forth from Morrison to Alex, who's still standing near the bags, uncertain what to do next. "Keep an eye on him," Mike orders before ducking back into the bathroom and closing the door behind him with an echoing click.

Alex glances over at John, who's since melted fully into the bed, the bruises along his throat moving in time with each of his shallow breaths. Probably fell asleep soon as he laid down, the rookie thinks, lips twisting awkwardly as he realizes what exactly he's feeling as he stares at him-- sympathy. He sighs and sits on the edge of the bed to wait for Mike, eyeing the chair that Morrison had been forced to vacate. After tonight, even that looks comfortable, he thinks tiredly, eager to just sink into anything and sleep. He's so exhausted, he thinks he could even sleep standing up.

The clicking of the bathroom doorknob catches his attention and he's half off of the bed when Mike finally reappears, scrubbing his hands through the damp hair that's plastered across his forehead. "Don't bother," he says, waving at him to stay where he's at. "I don't plan on sleeping right now."

"Wha--?" Alex is halfway through asking when Mike manhandles the chair over to between the two beds, sitting down heavily in it and turning to examine Morrison. Oh. "He's been fine," he finally says once he's found his voice again, the awkward sensation that he's intruding on a private moment between the two easing away slightly as Mike glances over at him, nodding.

"Thanks, A-Ri," he mumbles, tilting his head as he looks back at John once more. The nickname relaxes Alex further and he settles in against his own pillows, head still turned towards Miz and Morrison's side of the room as he falls asleep as well, Miz picking at his nails as he leans closer to check John's breathing once more the last thing he sees.

Darkness. All he sees. His thoughts are muddled, breathing rapid as he presses down on something, his fingers curled tightly around whatever it is. He thinks fleetingly if his nails were any longer, he'd be tearing straight through it as something smacks into his shoulder, distracting him briefly. If anything, the strangely muted sensation of getting hit does nothing but encourage him, his grip tightening.

He senses more than feels as the last bits of fight leaves the thing he's holding onto, something heavy slumping over onto him as his grip slips, instinctively holds the slumping form up. His eyes finally open, reality imposing itself on the darkness that had invaded his mind as he gapes at what-- who­-- he's holding onto. John Morrison's pale, lifeless form is propped up by his hands, finger marks-- his finger marks-- branded into his skin.

Alex jerks awake with a gasp as something hits him in the forehead, pulling him out of his warm sheet cocoon. He groans and feels around, finding a box of Kleenex on the bed next to him. Before he can yell at whichever of the two he's currently sharing a room with is responsible, he hears a muted groan and sits up immediately, recognizing the sound.

Miz mumbles quietly as Alex and John both glance at each other in the faint light coming from the window. Morrison moves first, leaning out of bed reluctantly. By the time he reaches him, he's shifting restlessly, his lips twisted unhappily. "Mike, hey," Morrison mumbles softly, gripping his shoulder to wake him up from the nightmare he's caught in.

"Stop!" Mike gasps, jerking forward. He would've fallen out of the chair and face planted on the floor if not for John's hand on his arm. He blinks away the sleep and stares up at Morrison, lips parting in shock.

"Mi--" Alex starts to speak but his voice dies away as his mentor lunges up, knocking the chair against the table, which in turn crashes against the wall, and walks quickly to the balcony door, exiting before either man can say or do anything. "Uh."

"Awesome," Morrison says drily, cringing. Alex shifts, working at untangling himself from the clingy sheets but Morrison waves him off. "Give him a minute," he says hoarsely, the most he's said at once since the ER.

Alex huffs but stays where he's at, glancing over at the balcony door quietly as Morrison fumbles in the semi dark, reaching out to the bedside table where the bottle of water has tipped over since Miz's freak out. Thankfully the lid is on it but it's rolled to the other side, just out of John's reach. The rookie sighs in exasperation before pushing it towards him. They barely glance at each other as John grabs it and takes a slow, tentative sip. Somehow his throat feels worse than it did earlier, just after leaving the ER.

Alex slides back down into his bed, looking at the ceiling as he waits for something, anything to happen. He's unsurprised when, a few minutes later, Morrison sighs and puts the bottle down, awkwardly dragging himself out of his own nest of sheets and pillows and pads quietly across the room, walking carefully due to the aches and pains from earlier. This more than anything keeps Riley from speaking up as he pushes the doors open a bit and slips outside.

He shivers immediately as soon as he steps outside, realizing a little too late that he's left his shoes in the room but he doesn't feel like making a further spectacle by backtracking just to return a moment later. "Miz?" he asks quietly, not having to look far to find his former tag partner since the balcony is relatively small. He waits, watching as Miz breathes evenly, his back to him.

Mist streaming from his lips proving just how cold it is outside, Morrison rubs his hands up and down his pant legs, wishing for gloves or warmer clothes or all of the above. Miz isn't dressed much better for late-November early morning weather.  I wonder how long he would've stayed out here alone, he thinks, taking his silence as neither an acceptance or dismissal. Steeling himself, he settles awkwardly down on the cold, hard floor, grimacing as the chill seaps through the jeans he's been wearing since the attack.

The silence holds as the two competitors gaze out at the nightlife, taking in the muted 3 AM bustle of the city in front of them. "What do you want, John?" Mike finally speaks, startling Morrison. "I'm fine," he adds as John struggles to think of something to say.

"I can tell," he mumbles, picking idly at his cuticles. "What happened inside, Mike?"

The silence that follows is tense and combustible and John can't help but think if it wasn't already freezing outside that the air around them would drop another ten degrees, despite Miz having not moved an inch since Morrison joined him. "I just needed some air," he finally growls, his voice cracking slightly.

"You hate this weather," the words tumble out of John's mouth before he can think or stop himself, give Mike a minute. Take it easy, Morrison. This is why you stopped Riley from coming out... pushing too much won't help matters, he reminds himself.

Miz says nothing, leans over so his forehead is resting against the cold, metal railing.

Is he... shaking? Morrison frowns, having had enough of the silence. He's on his feet and by Mike's side within seconds, gingerly reaching out.

Before he can even get close to touching him, Mike stiffens and brushes past him. "Don't, just don't," he mutters, huffing slightly as he turns back to the doors that lead into the hotel room.

"Mike," John attempts one more time, annoyed that, despite only having said ten words at most the whole time he's been out here, the cold air and previous injury to his throat are working against him and it feels like knives through his vocal cords just to get that one word past his dry lips. "Please." That said, he gives up, his throat hurting too much to continue trying to get Mike to open up. I can't force him to talk. This sucks. I just want to sleep, forget this crappy day... but something's wrong, I know it is. Something other than the attack earlier. But what?

Mike stops at the doors, fingers hovering just over the knob before his hands clench into fists. "It was a nightmare," he mumbles, keeping his eyes locked on the plain white curtains covering the inside of the balcony doors. He sighs and glances out of the corner of his eye when Morrison says nothing, almost statue still as he waits for more. "I don't even really know... I just, I couldn't see but I felt my hands around something and when I finally opened my eyes, you were there and you weren't moving and..."

John clears his throat, cutting off Miz's anxious ramblings. "So you took Barrett's place."

"Basically," he mutters miserably. "What if it's my subconscious telling me something?" His voice is almost as shaky as the hand that Morrison can see pressed against the glass door. "Our past isn't exactly drama-free, after all. There have been some insanely tense moments between us. One wrong step and that dream could become reality."

The biting cold and throbbing pain that feels like his throat just wants to explode and be done with it at every word spoken is forgotten as he stares at Miz's back, taking in how tense he is standing. As if he's afraid to move, to look at Morrison. "We went through almost two years of being pissed at each other after the draft," he points out, swallowing as his voice cracks and comes close to failing once more. "Neither of us tried to kill the other then. The subconscious is just a weird thing, Mike. It doesn't mean anything."

Miz shakes his head, not willing to believe Morrison's words, however logical they may seem. "Can't take the chance," he mumbles so quietly that John barely hears it over the wind.

Annoyed at being ignored, John rocks forward on his feet and glares. "Look at me," he commands. "Mike." His voice is strained, obviously close to giving out completely. It's this more than anything that makes Miz turn to face him, his eyes skittering everywhere but on John. "Lo-- Look at me." Finally, their eyes lock, John's intense, dark gaze a sharp contrast to Miz's wide eyed, freaked out look, and the seconds tick away tensely, the city noises dying away as if also holding its breath to see how this would be resolved. "I know we both said a lot of crap after the draft. But, even when we basically hated each other," he forces out, "did you ever want to really kill me? End my career? Anything like that?"

Mike hisses and scrubs his hands through his hair, looking away again.

"Did you?" Morrison demands, his throat all but forgotten as he glowers over at Miz, unwilling to let this topic drop. "Mike--"

"No! Happy now? Of course I didn't, but, dammit, John--" His voice dies away as John holds a hand up, stopping him.

"No. That's all I needed to hear. Dreams are weird, Mike. Just random mixtures of whatever we're thinking about on any given day; most times, there are no meanings behind them, despite what people say." By now his voice is cracking and just plain giving out almost every other word so Miz simply nods, deciding to believe him-- for now.

"Fine, fine. Can we go inside now? It's freakin' freezing out here," he adds, knowing that his moaning about the weather would encourage Morrison to believe he's returning to normal quicker than anything else.

"Took you long enough," he breathes, following Miz back into the delightfully warm hotel room.

Alex is sitting on the edge of his bed, unabashed at being caught peering through the sheer drapes out onto the balcony, turning to glance at Miz. His mentor looks a lot calmer and put together now so he glances thankfully at John before quietly handing over the bottle of water, lips twitching upwards as Morrison sighs in relief at the soothing liquid washing over his painfully dry throat.

Miz grimaces, pulling on a sweater from his duffel bag. The conversation on the balcony had only distracted him briefly but now that he's back inside, all he can focus on is how cold he feels. He wishes for California warmth, pressing his hands as close to the heater running fruitlessly in the corner as possible and sighs, shaking his head.

Morrison settles quietly on the bed, pain and general exhaustion making him sink further into the sheets, relieved to be out of the cold. He may not hate it as much as Miz does but when he aches like this, the last thing he wants to do is stand around in the harsh winds and feel even worse. But, he supposes, it was worth it because Miz now looks much more at ease as he turns back to the chair he'd been settled in barely fifteen minutes beforehand.

He's about to sit down when Morrison clears his throat and shakes his head, staring at Mike. "What?" the world champion asks in exasperation, pausing mid-movement, unnerved by Morrison's intense stare.

He opens his mouth briefly before cringing, his throat still feeling like it's on fire. "Y-you were out on the balcony longer than I was," he manages on the second attempt, voice a little stronger thanks to a quick sip of the water. "I'm fine, Mike. Get some sleep."

He looks petulant almost, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands up straight once more, twisting his lips unhappily as he stares at John.

Alex wonders if he's missed something when Miz grumbles, moves away from the chair. "Budge over," he mumbles, purposely not looking up when Morrison shifts to the other side of the bed and he settles down on the mattress, blatantly uncomfortable with the situation. It doesn't stop him from settling under the sheets with a bit of a shiver, still cold despite the extra layers he had pulled on before trying to return to the chair.

John settles quietly back, his arms crossed under his head as he stares at the ceiling, relieved that the beds are fairly large as Miz tugs at the pillows, adjusting them just so. "No title belt tonight?" he mocks in a croak.

"Shut up," he mumbles, shifting once more before rolling onto his side with a vague, exhausted sigh. He's floating in a half-asleep haze when something almost soft drapes across his frame, waking him up just enough to realize it's a blanket, his hand curling around the edge of it as he finally gives in to his body's need for rest.

"Night," Morrison's whisper is the last thing he hears.

The rest of the night goes quietly enough, despite Miz waking up a couple of times and instinctively peeking over at Morrison, who's so deeply asleep that he doesn't even twitch when Miz shifts. As soon as he sees that his breathing is still regular and deep, he falls back asleep.

When he wakes up again, something feels off but he can't place it, peering tiredly at Alex's empty bed in the pale sunlight streaming through the drapes. He instinctively grabs his phone from where it's resting on the table between the two beds and peers at the time, yawning blearily as he registers the time. 8 AM, he thinks, relieved that it's a rare media-free morning. His mindset is far from one of a world champion due to everything that's happened with John. Crap, Morrison, he remembers a second later, sitting up.

The room appears empty, except for the light gleaming under the bathroom door, and Miz pales as he struggles to free himself from the blankets, uncoordinated and still half-asleep. That feeling of wrongness continues as he finally frees himself and stands up. "John? Alex!" Before he can take a step, the bathroom door opens and Alex peeks out, toothbrush in one hand. He's blurry eyed and seems about as alert as Miz but it doesn't stop the champion from walking quickly towards him. "Where's Morrison?"

"Uh," he sighs, hesitating. "I-- I woke up in time to see him leave," he manages, instinctively cringing away from Mike's now-wide awake glower.

"You let him leave?" His voice is low, frightening in a way that he doesn't often use on Alex.

"I-- I couldn't stop him," he says, knowing instantly it's a mistake. "He--"

"You couldn't stop him," Miz says, laughing mirthlessly. "What about Nexus is in the building do neither of you understand? I'm surrounded by idiots," he mutters, blinking down at his phone as if just remembering it's still in his grip. He turns back to Alex and locks eyes with him. "You, stay here. If Morrison comes back before I do, call me. Can you manage that?"

"Of course," he mumbles, still frozen in place as Miz angrily storms out of the hotel room. He had received the brunt of Miz's anger once or twice before about things to do with their careers but this time, it felt... personal. I really screwed up. With a tired sigh, he returns to the bathroom to finish up.

Miz stays by the elevator for perhaps two seconds before his jitters become too much and he gives up, storming over to the stairs. Adrenaline and anger makes running down the three floors go by quickly, while giving him the sense that he's at least doing something, unlike waiting around for the elevator to reach its destination. When he reaches the lobby, he doesn't even stop to catch his breath, already on his way to the front desk to ask if anyone's seen his wayward coworker.

Halfway there, he stops, his tired eyes resting on familiar, disgustingly perfect brown hair visible over the top of a plush couch facing the windows and away from the elevator. No frickin way, he thinks angrily, his fists clenching at his sides. He pauses uncertainly, wanting so badly just to march over there and slap Morrison upside the head for freaking him out but just enough relief is mixed in with his anger that he takes a couple deep breaths, forcing his fists to relax before he walks rigidly over to the couch and sits down next to Morrison.

The tense silence remains unbroken as both men stare out the window at the city life trickling by slowly in the mid-morning hour, such a contrast to how it looked out of the balcony merely five hours beforehand. He takes the time to focus on breathing-- his, and Morrison's-- until he feels less likely to explode the instant he opens his mouth. "What were you thinking?" he finally asks, each word spoken slowly, an even amount of time between every syllable, as if highlighting just how much anger is hidden beneath the seemingly bland statement. Before Morrison can answer, he turns to face John and nudges him on the shoulder with two fingers, keeping his eyes off of the nasty bruises along his throat and spreading towards his collarbone. "I made it clear yesterday that the Nexus were probably in this hotel so why did you do this? Why take the first chance you get and run off alone somewhere? Might as well have just taped a target to your back, begging the Nexus to come after you again."

Morrison looks annoyed as he glances down at the fingers still pressed against his shoulder, shrugging the touch off after a minute. "I was thinking that I knew this hotel pretty well and they give out ok breakfast food, and that I was going to be in a lobby full of people."

Miz frowns, not seeing much to argue about with that logic, before glancing over at the bag resting on the coffee table in front of John. He releases a deep breath, softening slightly as he leans away from Morrison. "That breakfast?"

"Yeah," he mumbles. "Nothing special. Donuts and stuff."

"Donuts? Hell, why didn't you say so?" Miz asks, lips turning up slightly as Morrison glances at him out of the corner of his eye, relaxing a bit in response. "Come on, man. Let's go back to the room. I gotta get ready to go to Raw."

"Wait a minute," he says, not moving. When Miz turns to look at him, he shifts anxiously. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh?" Uncomfortable with the look on John's face, he sits back down and faces him. "What?"

"I remembered something... Something Wade said last night. He said that they came after me to get to you, that he still wants the WWE title, no matter how distracted he's been by Cena lately. And he said... he thinks Riley would make a good member of Nexus." Morrison presses his lips tightly together as he turns to look at Mike. "I'm only telling you this so you'll be careful. Nexus is... well, Nexus. Who knows what they'll do next."

Miz listens solemnly, his eyes narrowing as Morrison finishes. It doesn't really surprise him that they've resorted to using people against him, to make it easier to go after his title belt. Has been kind of expecting something like this for awhile now, despite being too distracted by drama with the GM Email and Orton to really give it much attention. After some thought, he sighs and stands. "Come on, let's go eat breakfast; we'll worry about this other stuff later." This time he's content to take the elevator, while trying to get the bag of donuts away from Morrison as they wait.

The trip up to the third floor goes peacefully, Miz relieved to find the hallway deserted as they venture back to the room. As soon as they enter, Alex meets them anxiously, glancing back and forth, taking in the calmer looks on their faces. "Everything ok?" he asks, looking away as Miz stops in front of him after finally tugging the bag out of Morrison's grip and handing it over to Riley.

"Leave me a few, huh?" is all he says, patting Alex on the shoulder before brushing past him towards the bathroom.

John chuckles faintly, shaking his head. He always did suck at apologies, he thinks, but Riley looks a good deal more relaxed none-the-less as he sits back down on the bed, digging through the bag full of various pastries and donuts.

When Miz finally emerges from the bathroom, showered and ready for the day, the bag of donuts are back with Morrison, who quietly hands them over when Mike grabs for them. "Morrison," he mumbles a few minutes later, mouth full of the glazed treats. After swallowing, he continues. "I told the road agents what happened to you. They've given you tonight off." He watches as John stiffens, obviously unhappy with the news. "Look, I know you don't like it but you look like crap, man. And what if Nexus goes after you again? Just... hang out here today, Alex or I'll come back with food when we can."

John looks disgruntled at the notion of staying away because of Nexus but, after a lengthy silence where he just sits there, fiddling with the bag of donuts, "Fine," he finally relents, wincing. If at the pain of speaking or saying that damning word, or both, Miz is uncertain.

"Ok," he says lowly, leaning over to grab his duffel. Alex echoes his motions across the room, double checking to make sure the briefcase is secure in his own bag before heading for the door. "See you later, Morrison."

"Bye," he mumbles disgruntledly, scraping his fingernails against the bedding.

Mike pauses at the doorway and sighs, turning back around. "John?"

"What?" After a moment of silence, he looks up and their eyes lock, Miz's dark and somehow compassionate in comparison to his dull, exhausted gaze.

Whatever he's about to say dies in his throat and he hesitates for a long moment before remembering that Alex is waiting for him. "I... you're going to stay here today, right? No random donut runs the instant my back is turned?"

John sighs heavily before nodding, his eyes shadowed in the faint light.

Miz swallows before continuing to speak, somehow feeling like a real heel (no pun intended) despite knowing he's only doing what's best for the beaten, weary man before him. "Why don't you get some sleep? We'll be back in a few hours."

"Uh huh," he mumbles as Mike finally slips out of the door, closing it securely behind him.