006: Blue Skies Over Bad Lands

He could hear Clay's voice coming from his little sister's room when he shut the front door, watching the last car pull away from the curb as the relatives and well-wishers finally went home to their perfect lives. He couldn't hear the words, but he recognized that cadence, feeling sick as he moved down the hall.

Ten-year-old Alyvia lay on the bed, hugging a tear-soaked pillow. Clay sat beside her, dangerously close, with his hand on her shoulder. The little girl's bottom lip quivered as her voice squeaked, "is Mommy in heaven?" They were the only words that seemed to come out easily, everything else was stuck.

"Suicides don't go to heaven, Lyvvie. You're old enough to know that, I think." Clay sighed, shaking his head as though he was saddened to be telling her this. "She's going to burn forever in the lake of fire. She did a very bad thing."

"Mommy wasn't bad! She's good and she loves me!" A sob caught in her throat as her little hands clutched at the pillow she'd stolen from her mother's bed the night she'd gone away for good. "S-she would've never... l-left me." She wanted to seem brave, but Lyv couldn't stop herself from crying even harder. At the look in his eyes, she scuttled back, trying to hide the pillow behind herself – the sobs that escaped her mouth were heartbreaking.

Clay grabbed her by the arm, hauling her back towards him even as she tried to flee. The sobs coming from the girl were annoying, the sound of her wails shrill enough to make his head pound even as he got a sick little thrill from how easy it was to get inside her head. "I'm not a liar, Lyvvie." He said the words softly as he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly. His mouth was right beside her ear when he spoke again; she could feel the warmth of his breath, "look around. All those casseroles and cakes in the fridge... that's because that cowardly little cunt put my gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger. She. Left. You. She didn't love you enough to stay. Shhh... shhhhhh," he kissed her cheek, his lips pressing right where the fresh tears were rolling down, "it's okay, Lyvvie. I'll love you..."

He was making her feel sick in a way she'd never felt before. Sitting on his lap felt wrong and the kiss he put on her cheek felt even worse. His words, the way he said them made her feel hot and strange and she wasn't sure if she wanted to cry or punch him in the face. Something hard was poking into her butt, making her instinctively wiggle to try and get more comfortable and when she did his warm breath was back in her ear. She couldn't bring herself to say anything. She didn't understand what was happening, but the atmosphere seemed to have shifted.

Clay smiled, lifting one hand to stroke her cheek and that poisonous tone was gone. He seemed nice now. Cheerful. "Mmm, see? That's better... that's my girl – so pretty. Are you a good girl, Lyvvie? Can you be good for Daddy?"

He wasn't her father. She knew that was true because her real father had been in her life briefly and even though she hadn't seen him in four years, she knew this wasn't how a Daddy was supposed to act. Her real one had been a deadbeat and a drunk, but he'd never touched her in a way that made her feel as tiny as an ant. "I… I'm not sad anymore." She tried to smile, "can I go play outside?" Her voice came out small as she kept a tight grip on the pillow, staring at her wall, not wanting to look at the man. If she could get away, she could hide.

His eyes were locked on her, watching her silent suffering. The water hit him in the face so suddenly that he gasped, choking on some of it as his grip on the girl loosened. He looked up to see the boy standing there, still holding an empty glass in his hand. That sadistic smirk returned as he let the now wet little girl slip out of his clutches before he moved to his feet.

Lex stood his ground, eyes narrowed as he glared at Clay. "Leave her alone! She didn't do nothin' to deserve this."

Lyv had fallen directly onto the floor and stared up in shock at her step-brother who had just saved her from whatever depraved thing Clay had in mind. She fled and wedged herself into the space behind the chair in the living room, holding her breath as she covered her face with her hands. The sound of breaking glass came from the other room, followed by the sound of flesh smacking against flesh. Every blow made her flinch, expecting to hear voices raised in anger or her brother yelling in pain. Instead there was just the strangely clinical sound of a fight before silence reigned again, only to be broken by heavy footsteps as Clay made his way down the hall, passing where she hid before storming out of the house.

As she heard the front door slam and her step-father's car start up and pull away from the house, she slowly crept from the couch to her bedroom. Peering in through the doorway, she saw the young man sitting on the floor. Cautiously, she walked in and knelt beside him. "Are you okay?"

He looked over at her, his eyes sad as he dragged the back of his hand across his split lip to wipe away the blood. Not saying anything, he stared at her for a few more seconds before breaking eye contact as his shoulders twitched in an idle shrug.

"Sorry I got you into trouble." She sounded so sad and remorseful. Sitting with her back against her bed, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

He lifted his other hand from where it rested against the floor, pulling a shard of glass out of his palm. Listening to her breathing, he could tell she was struggling not to cry. "Y'know," he broke the silence before it became too awkward, speaking directly to her for the first time, "I never knew mine – my mom, I mean. She went away when I was littler'n you. I got a picture somewhere, but I don't really even remember what she looked like." He sighed, leaning back against the nightstand as he closed his eyes. "Yours was nice. I liked her a lot."

Nodding, she rested her cheek against her knees, looking over at the boy beside her, surprise written all over her face. "She was the best and I really miss her." She sniffled, "I want her to come back."

His gaze returned to her, studying her for a few seconds. "It's alright to miss her," he said the words softly, the way he spoke far more soothing than Clay had been. "He was wrong... she's prob'ly up there right now, singin' with the angels. She got lucky." He cleared his throat, "you don't gotta worry," he shifted tracks so quickly that she was almost confused. "He won't touch you like that again."

"I don't want you to get hurt again."

He chuckled, shaking his head as he tried to lighten her mood, "don't worry about me. Been livin' this life a lot longer'n you."

Alyvia scuttled closer and wrapped her arms around him, feeling a strange sense of familiarity with him that she hadn't before. It felt like he needed the comfort far more than she did. "I hate him," she whispered.

"Don't," her brother murmured, vehemence in his tone, "don't you ever give a monster like him power like that."



"Someone once said they envied how I could 'manufacture angst over the littlest thing'. At the time, it irked me. Never saw my sheer disbelief as raging at anthills. Now, it makes me think a little more about what I'm puttin' on display. See, this business is tricky. We operate on gut feelings, on first impressions forged from these bite-sized interactions. We've gotten lazier now that social media is a thing, now that our lives can be on display in so many different forms. You can get an idea of what music I like, where I eat lunch, what kinda shoes I'm into all in a few minutes surfing through a feed – no different, really, than judging off some rhetoric spewed into a microphone. There's a level of cherry-pickin' to it that leaves a lot to be desired… guess that's what I'm sayin' in a roundabout way."

There's a soft chuckle in the pause after a muffled breath, almost as if he's got his hand over his mouth for in those seconds.

"But, see, I'm not that myopic – sure as shit not that lazy either. Not by a long shot. I didn't make it a decade in this glorified meat grinder by favoring the ostrich approach. Eyes're open. An' I guess it's fair to say I spent a lot of my life watchin' people, studying all the cues. Everyone's got a tell, some little tic. You watch long enough; the whole story unfolds without a word."

There's another soft sound, almost a clearing of his throat before he continues.

"I know, I know… haven't shirked the usurper label placed on me yet. This week's bookin' ain't gonna do much to fix that, neither. Rob Riot. The guy – the fuckin' measuring stick right now – an' I got this showcase match against him an' Erik Black like I'm just plopped in the middle of that rematch as the odd man out – I get it. One of these things just doesn't belong 'cept if that's the case, why the fuck's my title on the line? Could be another scrap for the Anarchy strap. But hey, you gotta go big, right? Put on a show. Logistics all sorts of fucked 'cause the smart play is to just do enough to make sure I still have hardware when the music hits – the fuckin' smart play."

There's scorn in his tone now.

"The other part of me, the shitheaded suicidal part keeps eggin' me on. Tells me to go all in, man – throw all the chips down 'cause it feels real good on paper. Actuality might be a little less predictable, but y'know, we play it where it lands an' don't sweat the small potatoes. I don't bitch about the curve-balls. I expect them. Nothin' in this business, despite what you wanna believe, has ever come to me easy. Everything I ever accomplished in my life's been through blood, sweat an' tears. I didn't come into this company lookin' to suck dick, make backroom deals with douches, knowin' how it'd pay off later. I didn't use some bullshit alliance to finagle myself into a main event, into a fuckin' title shot. It ain't right to point fingers, to name names. You know who I mean. It'll be dealt with in due time. Circle back to my first point, to what we do. You have to see more, an' I spent a long time studyin' people, lookin' for the cues.

You think that's off-base? Nah. Any poker player worth their salt knows how to read a person. Look around. Watch the interactions, watch the body language. You wanna find a reason to hate someone, it's all right there – like seein' Kavanaugh's wife give him those sidelong looks in that press conference, seein' her tense every time his hand came down on her back – I saw the way Alyssa looked at you, Riot. I don't need anyone to spell it out to me like I'm some short bus reject. I see the signs, the tension in the air. Somethin' ain't right an' again, I feel like the universe puts this shit on my shoulders on purpose. I survived when I shouldn't have – gotta repay that debt, right?"

He sighs.

"Maybe I'm crazy, seein' shit that ain't there. Maybe this is 'manufactured angst' again – or maybe I recognize that behavior, maybe I can see a predator a mile off thanks to banked experience. I'm just waiting in the wings for the other shoe to drop, for the bastard in sheep's clothing to pull down the zipper, shirk the costume an' show off the teeth, the claws, that gaping hungry fuckin' maw. It'll happen. This business has a way of pushing us to the most extreme behavior, even if we try our best to stay in our own lanes. It's easy to play God in your head, to feel like you're the most powerful in this place. It's easy to play any game when you're the one changin' the rules on the fly though, isn't it? Can't make it? Just fake it. Lie – be creative, though!"

A clink of metal on metal follows in the silence, almost a rhythmic tapping. That old skull ring against the rim of a soda can, perhaps? His tone drops lower, softer and more earnest.

"Look a little deeper, past all the shit-posting I do online. Look into my eyes an' you can see I'm the real deal. I belong here in the trenches, waging war. Tell yourself that I don't identify with those lyrics about bein' beaten down, bein' misunderstood, bein' alienated. Nah. 'Cause I got a daughter, right? I got a family, I got a girl who can't wait to get rid of my last name an' one who can't wait to take it back – aces, man. I'm the coolest guy around with my face out there in the gossip rags an' my name up there on the marquee – who wouldn't want that? Most wanted. Fuckin' MVP. An' maybe you hate me a little more 'cause I can't just smile, nod, count those blessings an' be satisfied. Can't escape this Damoclean nightmare – sword's still up there, pendulum swingin' – each pass gets it closer to the end of it all. You think I wanna build myself up with lies? Puff up so I can get my head a little closer to the razor's edge? Fuckin' hell. That's a level of suicidal even I'm inclined to balk at."

He sniffs a few times before continuing, his whisper rougher now.

"All that snark an' hubris aside, you gotta be true to yourself. Build that foundation on lies – shifting sand – only way to hold it is to dig deeper, keep buildin' and buildin' until you forget where you started in the first place. I can't forget. I came from death; I came from darkness. I came from a place where you have to MAKE your future, instead of havin' it handed to you an' I know that doesn't equip me for glory when it comes to makin' a run at double champ Rob Riot… or even the dude who took him to the limit last time in Erik Black. Fuckin' know I'm in over my head on this one. Not the first time. Fairly certain it won't be the last. To hell with the smart play, forget about heroes an' villains… predators an' victims – we exist outside the norm. Can't explain that in words anyone'll understand. It's deep down stuff – past the gut feelings an' the grim certainties. Hardwired into my DNA, maybe? This business changes you. It makes monsters from the meek. It breaks the weak. It's like Darwin's survivalist camp and the longer you're here, the less you recognize yourself in the mirror. You gotta stop, ask yourself that baseline question to snap it all back into focus. When the answer changes, that's when you know you're outta time."

He doesn't reveal that litmus testing question. Instead the audio lapses into silence and then static.



His nephew, Christian, was trying to teach Allegra how to shoot a basketball. It wasn't a regulation hoop – too low for that – neither of the kids seemed to care. The ball was bigger than her head, but the boy was tall for his age, already looking more and more like his father every day. He watched his daughter's face fall as she missed, watched as Christian chased after the ball, coaching her gently on how to throw it better. Their words were lost across the patio, the haze of the sun off the pool's surface making everything seem surreal. He could have been watching himself and Alyvia if they'd been together at that age, a memory playing out solely for his benefit. Stifling a yawn, he turned his head to find his sister watching him with a knowing smile.

"It's nice to see you relaxing for a change," she rested her hand on his shoulder gently, "I just kinda wish we saw each other more."

"Yeah, me too." Lex sighed, "you'd think with a lighter schedule, I'd have more… but I feel like I spend so much time goin' that it just gets away from me, y'know?" He glanced back at the kids, "can't believe she's gonna be five in February. Feels like just yesterday we were sittin' right here, talkin' about how terrified I was."

She laughed, nodding as she followed his gaze. "With that little bundle in my arms – can't believe he'll be six in April."

"We've done alright." He looked away, staring down at the patio stones as he fidgeted with his ring. "Keep runnin' it over in my head, wondering..." he trailed off into silence, reaching for the bottle of water he'd been drinking.

Lyv watched him, wishing she could see what was going on inside his head. "Wondering what? If you made the right choice in leaving Jana? In coming back to Hannah?" Her tone was gentle as she nudged his shoulder, "only you can answer that, Lex. The world doesn't get a say in what's right and what's wrong. You told me that, remember?"

"Did I?" He chuckled softly, bitterly. "Sounds like absolute bullshit."

Biting down on her lower lip, Lyv watched her son and she couldn't stop herself from thinking about how much she owed to the man sitting beside her. She owed him her life, her sanity – she wouldn't have two beautiful children or the man of her dreams if he hadn't intervened every time Clay had tried to do something to her. He was so good at drawing the sadistic bastard's attention, pushing every last button so that she could disappear. "Lex, there's something I have to tell you," he looked up, his expression almost wary, "about when we were kids."

He was quiet for a few seconds as he watched her. "I," finally breaking the silence, he shook his head. "I don't wanna talk about that, Loo. Not today."

Unable to keep herself from doing so, Lyv leaned in and hugged her brother tightly. "I wish to God I'd have told Grammy and Grandpa what was going on. They knew something in that house wasn't right—"

"No." He said the word softly, but she kept going as though he hadn't spoken.

"They knew but couldn't prove it. I was afraid if I told them the truth, they'd take me away from you." She shook her head and exhaled as she pulled away. "I couldn't leave you alone, Lex."

He shrugged, "you coulda left me there. I wouldn't have been mad. Was my world for fourteen years 'fore you an' your mom came an' it woulda been easier to stay that way." Sighing, he glanced over at her, "didn't have to watch as keenly when… y'know," he cleared his throat, lifting his hand to the back of his neck only to find that it was ice cold. He dug his fingers into the knots he felt there, wishing he'd been sleeping better lately.

"You didn't have to watch out for me," Lyv replied.

He didn't dignify that protest with a response because it was idiotic of her to even say it. Of course he'd had to.

"Never in a million years would I have left you to face that monster alone," she said firmly.

"I wasn't alone." He said it so quietly that her words rolled right over top of his.

"You're my brother."

He nodded, knowing what she meant. They'd had a bond from the first moment they'd met, one that finally made sense when they'd found out a few years ago that they shared the same mother.

"Right from the beginning, I felt it; I know you did, too." Shaking her head, "you and me were in that hell together." She'd said it so many times over the years that the words had been stripped of meaning to his ears. The details about everything that had gone on in that house were somewhat blurry for her – sometimes it was hard to make the pieces of her memory fit so that it was a clear picture. She'd seen a therapist for it and it had helped immensely. She'd managed to move past the trauma. The only thing that was clear for her now was how Lex had saved her time and time again and she didn't understand why he refused to take the credit for it.

He didn't reply for a few seconds, watching as Christian lifted Allegra up so that she was closer to the hoop. She finally managed to get the ball in and Lex couldn't help but smile when he heard her joyous whoop carry across the water.

Lyv stared at him for a moment, a smile breaking out on her face. She could see he still had that darkness inside but watching that joy on his face now was contagious – he'd taken to fatherhood like a duck to water. "How far along is she now?"

"Almost twenty-three weeks," he murmured, "pretty sure it's another girl. Prob'ly find out for sure at the next ultrasound. Think I'm gonna have to… she's showin', Loo. We're gonna have to announce it soon an' the blow-back is gonna be bad. We're back on American soil now for the shows an' she wants to keep comin' on the road with me. I can't hide it."

"Why the hell should you?" His sister was angry, shooting to her feet as she stabbed a finger in his direction. Hannah was her best – her oldest – friend. "Don't try to cop out with that macho bullshit. You're not working with crazy people. Nobody will attack her–"

"It's not that. It's… you know what they're gonna say?" He rolled his eyes, "they'll do the math. If not today, when the baby's born. They'll be able to tell it was before… an' then they're gonna come out with a bunch of shit to tear apart my reputation – what fuckin' little I have left. I already got the adulterer label, Loo. Every last one of those trolls said Jana was better off, like I'm already worthless in their eyes. Like she… like I… goddamnit. You just don't get it. I can't fuck up Riot Star, I can't… I need this. You want them to… to fuckin' bury me in lies? You want them to say the worst? You want Hannah and Allegra to have to deal with those shit-flingin' monkeys in the media?"

Lyv rolled her eyes, shaking her head at his melodramatics. Nobody in the business who mattered cared what a few keyboard warrior trolls had to say. She knew that for a fact. Morality was a million shades of grey. Her husband had taught her that good intentions mattered far more than a few broken eggs. Or hearts. She expected him to know better, to be above the need for the approval of the masses. Sighing, she shook her head when he threw his hands up in frustration. "You're being ridiculous. You know that, right?"

"Maybe I am. An' maybe assuming worst case scenarios means I can get in front of the damage before it's done?" 

Neither of them noticed the patio door sliding open or the sleepy brunette that stood there, rubbing her eyes as she tried to wake up fully from her nap, drawn by the sound of her lover's voice.

"And what's that?" Lyv finally took the bait, asking the inevitable question, "what could possibly make it worse?"

"I only left Jana 'cause of the baby."

The way he said, with that hollow matter-of-fact tone, it cut deep. Hannah could barely breathe as she turned and fled, knocking her glass of water off the counter in her haste. It smashed on the floor and both siblings froze.

"What was that?"

Lex shot to his feet, bolting inside, fearing the worst. When he saw the glass on the floor and the bottle of prenatal vitamins that was open on the counter, he knew who'd just been here. The bottom dropped out and he reeled for a moment, grabbing the counter as both dread and a head rush hit him hard. "Han?!" He heard running footsteps and took off after, catching sight of her just as she opened the front door and bolted to their car. The engine was already running before she was behind the wheel and he bounced against the hood, catching sight of her stricken expression in that split second before she backed out and sped off.