009: The Answer

Déjà vu was settling over him in waves as he walked across the dead lawn, remembering the time he'd come back on New Years Day from a fight he never should have taken in Philadelphia – it was for money, some last hurrah tournament of bullshit for the ill-fated Warped Wrestling. He couldn't remember who he'd been facing but he knew he'd lost the match because he remembered getting paid fifty grand despite that fact. He'd come home just a few hours into the new year to find that Hannah had completely unraveled. This time, he thought maybe the roles would be reversed.

He could feel this steady pressure building at his temples. He could feel panic clawing at his insides and the more he pushed it down, the more his head throbbed. The rest of the aches had been the same as that mostly-forgotten fuckaree of a match although he'd had his forehead gouged up with razor wire that time. He remembered recording something for another booking while he'd been backstage with ringing ears and congealing blood on his face, feeling like a badass because the adrenaline had him flying high, still bulletproof. If he had that to do over now, he wouldn't have. Hindsight was the worst.

The comedown was always the worst, comparatively and definitively. His throat was raw from puking his guts out for the first hour of the flight until the Dramamine had finally kicked in and put him to sleep. He felt like he hadn't slept in years, felt off-kilter and displaced as though it was still the wee hours of 2015 and he was struggling to figure shit out. He wasn't about to step into the ring with Aurora Jansen, a woman who had once been a friend that hadn't spoken to him in over a year. No. He was going to rub shoulders with Shane Mitchell – make hot tags to – against Filth Factory. Maybe that was the reason it all felt so surreal. Completely surrounded in gold, closing out the year on top of it all in a company that seemed to like having him around – it was the most fucked up thing to have ever happened.

He pinched himself. It hurt. So did his groin as he almost rolled his ankle when he stepped into a hole in that lawn that hadn't been there when he'd last mowed it. When was that? A month ago?  

He stopped, looking up at the house as the first rays of sun broke over the roof line, catching him in the eye. Lex chewed on his lip, tasting blood from the split in the middle of it. His bag felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, a reminder that no hardware had been lost despite all the doubt. He switched it to the other hand, dawdling there on the lawn as he flexed his fingers to get the circulation back. It was quiet, not just in the yard but on the street in general – ominous-as-fuck – he couldn't help the shivery unease crawling down his spine. Letting the bag drop, he pulled out his phone, forgetting that he could have just made the pretense of checking the time on his watch. The screen lit up and he squinted, trying to make out the notifications through the polarized haze of the cheap sunglasses. Christmas lights were still on across the street and a part of him found that comforting because he'd missed the big day.

Damned flights had been delayed, overbooked and he'd been bumped. He could have rented a car and pushed it, but he didn't trust himself behind the wheel, not the way his head felt right now. He expected to be greeted by the dogs, eager for breakfast even though it was barely morning. Instead he found the front door unlocked.

He closed his eyes. Held his breath. Tried to tamp down the panic because the cars were both in the drive and he was being irrational. They'd both grown up past the need to punish each other, to be selfish and childish over things that were beyond their control. The door swung open and Christmas punched him in the face. The hall smelled of cookies and cinnamon, the banister still wrapped in garland and the twinkling fairy lights their daughter loved so much. He let his bag drop with a thud, hearing the crackling of a fire that pushed his heart into his throat before he stopped short in the living room doorway to find it was a yule log on the television, a cheery fire snapping around it. Walking into the room, he went for the remote on the table and almost tripped over Hannah on the floor. She was wrapped in a blanket, surrounded by unspooled ribbon and a gift that looked like she'd just finished wrapping it before nodding off.

The tree glowed, ornaments that she'd saved from childhood catching his eye as he took it all in. This was home, this was what coming home should always feel like. This was what he'd been missing with Claire and again with Jana even though it had been so damned close – the warm feeling was like a hug, like the best feeling of pride washing over him as all the good things asserted themselves in his mind. He was still holding two championships. He was going to team with the World Champion at the first Anarchy of 2019, against the tag team champions. After fifteen years, he'd finally made it. The climb was over and he felt a little let down because the view hadn't really changed.

He had to bite his lip hard enough to taste blood as the skin split all over again, had to keep himself from being overcome by the emotion. Not until he knew where he stood. His hand shook when he reached out to brush the hair from her face, kneeling and leaning in to gently kiss her forehead. "Morning, beautiful."

Hannah’s eyes opened as she kept the blanket wrapped in place. She'd made herself into a toasty burrito after finishing the gift. "Hey…." The word was mixed with a yawn. She smiled, thinking she was dreaming because she'd had so many variations on this very same theme over the last four years.

"I'm home." He said it softly, eyes flicking back and forth as he tried to get a read on her.

"You're home," she repeated, unwrapping herself a little before grabbing his hand. "Safe and sound."

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped as she squeezed his fingers. A part of him wanted to tell her about his struggles over the last couple days, about the things he'd said when the cameras were rolling this time around. He wanted to say that he was safe, relatively speaking, but that there'd never been a such thing as 'sound' where his mind had been concerned. He forced a tired smile, "little bruised, junk's a little bit tender so prob'ly no Christmas nookie," he paused slightly, feeling that surge of emotions again. He'd always hated Christmas but this year, it felt different. "C'mon. Let's get you up off this floor."

Nodding in agreement, Hannah let him help her up. Once to her feet, she hugged him tightly, fiercely.

"Easy now, easy." He held her tight though, afraid to let her go. He buried his face in her wild hair, that familiar sweet scent taking him back.

"I figured I'd get the rest of the presents wrapped while the bug was sleeping. She wanted to go to bed early because she knew when she woke up, you'd be home."

"Wish I'd been back sooner." He murmured, kissing the top of her head. "Kinda sucked...not bein' here for the first Christmas we've had together since she was too little to remember."

If she'd been feeling tension or stress, it melted away as he held her. "You didn't miss anything." Hannah pulled back and looked up at him. "When Allegra wakes up, we're going to do the usual Christmas Eve stuff and then tomorrow Santa comes, and we celebrate Christmas Day on our own schedule." She smiled up at him, "Allegra asked me to make a special call to Santa to see if he wouldn't mind coming on the twenty-sixth so that her dad could enjoy it."

"You got that kinda pull with the guy?" He pulled back slightly to look down at her. "Glad I got someone with that kinda power in my corner."

"I gotcha covered." She grinned as she studied his features, noticing each minor change. His was a face that she'd had memorized for a long time. "Wasn't gonna let you miss any of this. You've missed way too many."

She watched as a shadow passed over those familiar features and he averted his eyes, sighing. "I know. Wish I had some way to go back… undo my stupid." He wanted to say more, to tell her how worried he was to fail completely this year after being absent so long, but the words were caught behind the lump in his throat.

"Nope. Not on Christmas Eve," she brought his hand to her stomach where their unborn daughter was moving around. "This is the future – our future, Lex – and big changes are coming. The mistakes we both made won't happen again. We've got it this time around."

"Making up for lost time." He said it softly, feeling that strange sense of déjà vu that he'd felt earlier. He'd been here before, making promises while feeling that little flutter of new life. He remembered how terrified he'd been right up to the moment Allegra was born. He remembered rejecting the news the first time she'd told him. Now, he couldn't wrap his head around that hatred, that denial. It seemed like someone else's choices. Another life.

He couldn't wear those shoes because they didn't fit. Maybe they never had.

Clearing his throat, he met her gaze. "I have something. For you."

"You do?" Her grin had shifted into a soft smile. "Is it a popcorn machine?" Biting down on her lower lip, she couldn't help feeling some butterflies at the boyish grin on his lips. "Do I have to wait 'til later?"

He shook his head. "Only if you want to. If not…" he shrugged. "You can have it now. We used to do that. One gift on Christmas Eve. I remember...always had this strategy about it. Tried to guess what was in each one beforehand so I knew the one I wanted early." The smile was wistful now.

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she nodded. "Yeah… I mean if it's okay?"

"Course it is." He pulled away from her and went over to the end table, opening the drawer and reaching into the back, behind all the random clutter to pull out a little black velvet box. "I didn't get a chance to wrap it. I thought...I was gonna give it to you way early but never found the right time." He crossed back to where she stood, holding it out to her.

Her eyes followed him and when they settled on the gleaming silver ring. "Oh, Lex…" That lump in her throat had gotten bigger. Tears were visible in her eyes. "Baby…"

"It's an anniversary ring." He said softly, feeling his own eyes welling up. "A stone for every year we've been together. I... didn't wanna be cliché an' ask you to marry me again. But... I thought maybe this is better."

"Ask me." Her voice came out low, something there in her eyes besides joy and hope and devotion, something almost primal.

"I…"

"Say it," Hannah's gaze lifted from the ring with its diamonds and interwoven, unbroken knots. She didn't want to assign meaning that wasn't there – she wanted to have clear and honest communication. "Baby, it's okay. I'm here. It's Christmas Eve and you're here and no matter what you're feeling right now, it's going to be okay because I love you so much."

He blinked. Hot tears fell, and he didn't feel the aches anymore as he dropped to his knee there in the living room, the ring free from the box now as he took her left hand in his, slipping it onto her finger. Of course, it was a perfect fit. He'd made sure it would be. The first time he'd done this was in a park, in the middle of the night. There'd been no planning, just a desperate need to make sure that he wouldn't lose her again. Nearly eight years had passed, and he still didn't have the right words. "Han." He licked his lips, "it makes sense when we're together. You… the voices are quiet when you look at me, when you touch me. I blamed you when I left, I said we were poison for each other, so fucked up co-dependent we weren't gonna ever do more'n take little pieces outta each other for the rest of our lives but that's not true. I… tried too damn hard to be what I thought everyone else wanted me to 'cause I just wanted to be a real boy. Wanted to stop feelin' like a fraud, like goddamn Pinocchio an' that was never your fault, okay? I was a coward. I was dumber'n ditch-water. What the fuck was I even chasin'? I don't know, Han. I wanted to be a big deal, I wanted to have people like Freddie fuckin' Lombard stop lookin' at me like a lesser being. I wanted to win everything, but it was never enough, never felt real."

"Lex," she brought her hands up and wiped at the tears on his cheeks, hating the abuse he was heaping on himself. "Honey, no. Please don't do this to yourself."

"I…" he almost stammered, "no. I was explaining. But you're…" he nodded. She was right. All the self-loathing, all the doubt and fear of inadequacy was still crawling around in his head, burrowing deep like parasites. He had concrete proof that he was enough right here, with this home and these people who loved him. Twenty pounds of leather and gold in his bag that said he was one of the best in the business right now and a hell of a win streak that was still just begging to be broken. He'd beaten Rob Riot, had cut the line in front of Erik Black in a one-off and earned an enemy the hard way. He'd beaten Andi Snow, finally righting that first misstep and it had been a hell of a fight. He had let Jana go, freed her from the toxicity so that she could rebound to find love with someone else. She had. She was happy and he didn't feel it under his skin like splinters any longer. He'd barely been paying attention to social media these days and he didn't really miss it. Progress happened even if you weren't paying attention and he was so far removed from the bitter, broken piece of shit that had begun 2018 that it could have been a thousand years or an alternate reality. He'd beaten D without any outside interference to fuck up the match and on some level that felt like the biggest accomplishment ever. Hannah was still staring at him, waiting for him to break the silence. He couldn't because there was nothing left to say. 

"Baby?" There was concern in her eyes.

"Tired," he murmured, letting her pull him to his feet again, "just tired. I didn't… shit – I didn't ask like you wanted."

Her smile was watery, "it's okay. Really. You know my answer."

"Right." He nodded quickly, "an' if it changes," he tried like hell to keep it light, to keep from ruining the moment. "you'll let me know."

"I will. But it won't because we're gonna make it work this time. No giving up. No running away. No matter what." Hannah put her arms around his neck, stepping on the toes of his boots to boost up high enough to look him in the eyes. "You've always been worth waiting for, Lex. You understand me? You're good enough… more than good enough. You're my perfect match and I want to spend the rest of my life raising our little girls and a house full of dogs with you and only you. Okay?"

He shifted his weight, sweeping her off her feet. His lips found hers and he put everything into that contact – words were too clumsy, and his heart was too damned full. When it broke, they were halfway up the stairs and he felt like he had on their wedding night, carrying her because she'd worn the silliest, most uncomfortable shoes. "Merry Christmas," his voice came out strained, rough with emotion. She clung to him, completely trusting, giggling in utter abandon as they arrived on the landing.

This was the missing piece. This was what he'd been searching for.

This was what a homecoming felt like: joyful and triumphant. Welcoming. Happy. Warm.

Something in him broke. It didn't hurt. It wasn't missed as it crumbled to pieces and he carried her into their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

"I missed you."

"I love you."

They spoke at the same time, words rolling over each other, intertwining like their fingers and legs and breath as they got lost in each other for the first time in months. He let go and found that the fall wasn't scary at all. There was no difference in the meaning. His lips were against hers when he whispered, "marry me."

Her answer was the same.