ECW AU (July 2nd, 2008)
Miz is steaming. There are no better words for it. He figures if he takes a swim right now, the place would be foggy within seconds. As he examines the murky hotel water with a dull eye, he ponders his missing partner.
Morrison is usually the punctual one, annoyed when Miz takes even a minute too long to get ready for a match. So this set of circumstances confuses Miz a good deal.
Fact was, Morrison was supposed to meet with Chavo and he before their match against Matt Hardy, Finlay and the runt known as Hornswoggle. He didn't show, which Chavo took great pleasure taunting Miz about. It was when Morrison didn't show to the match itself that Miz began worrying.
Morrison hadn't acted any differently the last time Miz saw him, so there were no reasons to stress out but one hour turned twothreefour, and no word at all.
Miz sighs glumly, glaring down into the water like it is his own personal enemy and swallows thickly. Something tells him he should notify people that Morrison has disappeared-- it was bad enough that Teddy Long was ticked off due to his no showing--, but John is a pretty private person and Miz doesn't want to piss his partner off just when they were finally cementing their tag title run as something long term.
Finally coming to a decision, he pushes away from the railing and heads back to the room he had booked before the event, staring at the dull brown carpet thoughtfully. He blinks when the carpet turns into two familiar boots. "Morrison?" he blurts, his gaze sliding up quickly to his downed partner, a confused look appearing on his face. "Oh God."
John is stretched out towards the door of Miz's room, twitching sporastically, still in his wrestling clothes from the last time Miz saw him. Bruises cover every portion of his body that Mike can see, some of the cuts scattered among them still oozing blood.
He quickly kneels down by his partner's head, one hand hovering over his back and the other brushing his hair out of his face quickly, to see if he's conscious or not. "John? You with me?"
"Mike?" the downed man whispers, hand twitching slightly by Miz's knee.
"Hey, yeah, it's me." He has so many questions begging to be asked, but the top one is-- "Where were you? What happened?!"
"Fin-lay," he mutters slowly, coughing weakly as even speaking sparks pain through his upper body. "Finlay grabbed me earlier today and locked me up somewhere, I dunno what happened..."
"Finlay," Miz mutters, marking up another reason to hate the man to his already sizeable list. "Do you think you need a trainer?"
"N-no," Morrison mutters, looking away. "Just get me into the room."
Startled, because he's never requested help at all before, Miz automatically leans over and aids Morrison's weary attempts at standing, quickly unlocking the door as soon as he's somewhat secure on his feet. "Do you need anything?" he asks awkwardly, quirking an eyebrow as John falls face first onto the only bed in the room.
"Not right now," he grimaces, bunching a fist into the pillows.
Recognizing it as his partner's usual tactics for hiding pain, Miz weighs calling the trainer as he examines him. "Alright then," he forces out, heading for the bathroom, where his pain pills are at.
"Miz?" John calls as he rustles through the medicine cabinet. "Did... What happened with the match?"
A tinge of regret is present in the man's voice, and Miz pauses, seeing red for a minute because dammit, it's not John's fault. "We lost," he calls back, keeping his voice low and dull so his partner won't catch on to how much the loss bothered him. "But there'll be other nights."
"I'm sorry." John speaks so low, Miz almost isn't sure he's heard him correctly, but he doesn't want to ask and embarrass them both further, so he finishes and tosses a bottle of pain pills onto the bed silently as he reenters the room.
"Think you'll be ready for action Tuesday?" he asks, flooding his tone with sarcasm to hide his worry as Morrison shifts and winces slightly.
"Of course," he grunts, voice gravelly as he slowly reaches out for the pills next to him.
Miz knowingly looks away, fiddling with the TV until he hears Morrison drop the bottle, pills safely taken. "So what're we going to do about Finlay?"
Morrison shrugs slightly, then locks eyes with him, an intense glance passing between them before turning back to the TV like the last few days haven't happened. "We'll figure it out."
It's not much of an answer, but somehow it makes Miz feel better.