INTERLUDE: The Price of Being Fearless

Manhattan || May 26, 2017 (off camera)

Two months, he'd been coming here. Two months today and while all the files were requisitioned and sent over from Bennett's office in Chicago, they'd still spent the first three sessions rehashing. Not that he'd really minded much – after two months idle from the ring and with Claire completely immersed in training for and competing in her LFL matches, the silence was grating. He'd kept the twice-a-week schedule after the onset because it broke up the monotony. Now, though, he was grateful to have a place to vent.

"Got my feet wet there," he muttered, eyes on his scuffed black Converse, "guess that's all'at matters. Even if I didn't – well, alright, to be fair I did win last night 'gainst some local talent scrub. Pity bookin', y'know?"

"Why do you say that?" His therapist leaned back in his chair, one hand coming up to twist his ponytail around his fingers – it was an absent twitch, one that meant he was trying to focus on listening.

When Lex had first laid eyes on the beatnik-looking guy with his douchebag hat, ponytail and glasses, he'd wanted to turn tail and run. Moreso when the guy had explained that while the name on those framed wall diplomas said, 'Quintin Matthews', he preferred to just go by Q. Now he was glad he hadn't let that initial impression throw him off. If nothing else, the guy was a good listener.

"Behind the curtain, man. You sure you wanna know what's down that rabbit hole?"

Q shrugged. "I honestly don't think you're ever going to catch me sitting through a wrestling show," he chuckled ruefully, "so go ahead."

"Sometimes," Lex sighed, lifting his hand to rub it across his lips, like he wanted to scrub away the words before they even came. "Sometimes, they see a guy strugglin', flounderin' out there in the waters and they feel pity, y'know? Maybe you never asked for it. Maybe you were just tryna see how far out you can go, battle the undertow an' the current to see if you're still strong enough to swim when it really counts – the shitty ones never bother to ask. They just throw you a bone an' expect gratitude – rubs me the wrong way. See, I came in there in a rumble," at the blank look he got from Q, he struggled to clarify, "battle royal, y'know? More'n two in the ring at the same time, over the top rope elimination rules. Kinda helter skelter an' I've," his voice dropped lower, shame on his face, "I've never won one of them. Never. Mean I came close a couple years ago. Simon Swinger had to damn near rip my arm off to get me to let go of the rope but-" he broke off, chuckling.

"But?"

"There's too much goin' on. I can't… can't focus. One-on-one is better. Can see the circles then – there's this sorta geometry to a fight. Intersection an' angles an' if you can see the circles, you can pick your battles. You can control every aspect an' prob'ly nine times outta ten, I can pull out the win. Get too many circles clashin', too much overlap an' it's just noise," he lifted his hand up to gesture vaguely beside his ear, "in here. I get turned around. Miss openings, make mistakes. An' then I get to watch a worthless you-know-what like Fujiko Mine walk out with a victory."

He shook his head, "I found another place. One Claire's not gonna like much – just gettin' started like Apex, like that Engage place I found 'fore I ended up in Olympus. Rules're written in water, lenient. Close as fightin' unsanctioned as it gets." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips, "I know she thinks I can do the big time, go back to a place like SCW, but baby steps, y'know? Fucked up last time by rushin'. Never woulda chose Olympus if I wasn't, if working local wasn't the only draw 'cause I wanted to…"

"You wanted to stay close to home because of Claire's work, didn't you?" Q cut in smoothly, using those active listening skills of his.

"In part, yeah. But not wholly. I was scared. Goin' back home, pullin' off the road was my way of graspin' control to soothe that hurt. Spent six months, damn near top of the food chain an' then that dumbfuck bitch spit all over it, dismissed me like I was nothin'. After all the time I put in, all the shit I endured an' all those legends I stood up to an' beat an she just," he shook his head. "Fuck it. Don't even wanna get started on that again. I gotta... I gotta rebuild from the ground up. Go back an' walk the familiar trails, find where I fell out."

"Makes sense to me," Q nodded. "And this place in Virginia, that's part of it?"

"Yeah. An' now, I ain't superstitious, man, really not. Barely signed that contract, first fight's only just been announced but there's already been rumblin', people sayin' since I got all this bright an' shiny history, I'm the guy to put down first. Means I got the biggest target on my back. Someone's gonna be gunnin' for me straightaway an' I'm not sure how I feel about that. Half of me feels good, Q. That's the fucked up part. Like maybe what Tarja did, maybe it didn't... maybe it never mattered an' I just completely invented that fall in my head. The other part of me's kinda... I dunno. Not scared. Maybe wary's the best word. Like I know I could misstep an' fuck this all up. Gotta walk gingerly in the minefield."

"What do you plan to do?"

"Same as always," Lex murmured, "go out there an' fight my hardest. S'what I do." He paused, "it's the only thing I've ever been good at."