Legacies [PWX: 04/15/2014]

Technically, it was only going to be his birthday for another seven hours or so, but Jackson was trying his best to keep that game face on. He'd begged his wife not to make any plans for the day or the evening— more than once he'd stressed how he wanted to just have a nice, quiet day doing nothing. Pariah's video had gone live half an hour ago. He'd already watched it four times and was on the fifth when the iPad dropped the WiFi signal, forcing the video to freeze-frame on Pariah's face. A sigh escaped his lips as he reached for his drink on the bedside table. His wedding ring pinged against the glass as he grabbed it, bringing the club soda up to his lips. Closing his eyes, he pretended it was laced with vodka and forced himself to swallow like a good boy.

He still had them closed when the video auto-resumed, stuttering slightly. "L-legacies are f-forged in steel…or in this case, leather and gold. Brad— I can't see the future, so I don't know what will happen on Saturday Night. I can promise you this. Two legends will walk down this very ramp—" The signal faltered again, this time crashing the entire app.

Jackson's hand closed around the damned tablet, ready to hurl it at the wall and smash it to bits when a soft sound made him freeze. His eyes snapped open and he spotted his wife standing in the doorway.

She had spent the hour before getting herself dressed in some sexy lingerie and in general all dolled up so that she looked perfect for her husband. He needed a pretty little package to unwrap and she was going to give him just that— dressed in a crimson silk nightgown with her long blonde hair curled and resting against her shoulders, she knew she looked like a million bucks. Grinning at the birthday boy, she began to make her way over to him. However, she seemed a little confused when she saw the tablet clutched in his hand and the pad of paper and pen resting on the mattress beside him.

"Jax, what are you doing?" She asked this as she raised an eyebrow and stared at him.

"Just watching some stuff on YouTube— no big deal." The lie was out before he could stop it. She might have bought it if the video hadn't chose that moment to start playing again, looping that same line of dialogue all over.

"Legacies are forged in steel…or in this case, leather and gold. Brad— I can't see the future, so I don't know what will happen on Saturday Night. I can promise you this. Two legends will walk down this very ramp. Two hall of fame caliber performers will step through those ropes and they will shake hands…"

He fumbled with it, finally mashing the power button in frustration and then sliding his thumb across the screen to shut it down. The damage was done and even if she hadn't recognized the voice of John Pariah, she was bright enough to grasp the context.

"What's going on, Jax?" She asked, even though she had an idea. Her arms came up and wrapped around herself, covering up the scantily clad nightgown. "Something you haven't told me?"

"Nah, I told you about this, remember? I made the bucket list of guys I wanna face before the end of the year." He tossed the iPad on the floor before putting the notepad and pen into the nightstand drawer.

"Yeah, I remember." She was watching him cautiously, the whole thing bugging her, but she couldn't place her finger on it. "But none of these matches are gonna take place for awhile, right? I mean, you still need to heal up."

"Facing Pariah on Saturday," he averted his eyes, reaching for the almost empty glass on the table. He tossed the contents back, crunching the ice between his teeth while he waited for all hell to break loose.

"You don't mean THIS Saturday, right? Of course you don't, because that would mean you're willing to risk yourself for this match and that would be ridiculous." Even though she tried to hide it, she was sincerely disturbed by all of this.

"Yeah," he kept the glass between his hands, tapping his ring against the edge of it. "This Saturday… the 19th. But it'll be nice for you because it's in Chicago so you can see your brother while we're there."

She stood there, just staring at him in stupefaction. Finally, she shook her head. "No… I don't want you doing this, Jax. " Her stance was firm as she shook her head once more.

"It's booked, Lyv. I can't back out on it and leave them in the lurch— they're hyping the shit outta it. Two legends collide or some such shit… and I—"

"And what about your health, Jax?" Bringing a hand up, she ran her fingers through her hair. "What about Christian and me?"

"It'll be okay. It's just one match."

"Then can't it wait until you're better?" She was looking at him wide-eyed as she walked over and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was full of bitterness as he met her gaze levelly, "there's no 'getting better', Lyv. This is what I've got. Another month… another two months of rest so I can lose every last bit of popularity I ever had? It's been since February and nothing's changed."

"I just don't want you to do anymore damage to yourself." She swallowed hard and removed her hands from his body."I worry about you, Jackson… I worry a lot."

"Well don't." The words came out petulantly as he kept twisting that glass between his hands. "I'm not going anywhere, Lyv. It's just Pariah. The guy's washed-up, wrestles in that Crown Point shithole—"

"He's been active this whole time, hasn't he?" She countered his point, standing her ground.

"Well, yeah, I guess but—"

"But nothing, Jackson." Lyv let out a soft sigh before sitting down on the bed next to him. She was far enough away that she wasn't touching him at all. Leaning forward, she brought her hands up to her face, letting out a muffled but very exasperated groan. "You haven't been in a ring since February. You haven't even trained since then and—"

"Then you can stay here. If you're not going to support me, you can just fuckin' stay here."

"Jax… I…." her mouth worked but no sound came out as she shrank away from the anger she heard in his voice.

"I shoulda just let you go to Chicago. You could be watching that piece of shit brother of yours wrestle his heart out."

"Stop it," Lyv's head turned towards him, "he's my only family. You know that. But I'm here with you right now b-because," her voice faltered, tears filling her eyes as she looked away again.

"Because I gave you no choice in the matter." He shrugged, the springs creaking as he got off the bed, walking over to the window. "Listen, okay? What happened in SCW was bullshit. Defending the belt with no hype on a weekly show. I refuse to let that fucking embarrassment be the last match I have. This needs to happen, Lyv and this match is already booked. You've got no choice but to deal with it."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," she murmured, her voice blurred by the tears she was trying to hold back. "I listened to you, Jax. Now I want you to listen to me. I want you to actually HEAR what I'm saying. You need to stop. I know you feel like you have to do this because of your pride—"

"The legacy, Lyv." His voice came out rough as he kept his eyes on the view of the rippling water in their swimming pool. "It's about the goddamn legacy— shit, even Pariah gets that. Why can't you?"

"Maybe because it doesn't make any sense! This is who you are, Jax. You're a living, breathing person— you're not a superhero in some computer-generated movie— you get hurt and you bleed! You're not The Dark Horse. You're—"

"What, Lyv? If I'm not that, what the fuck am I?"

"You're everything."

He turned around, snorting in derision. "I don't even know what that means, Lyv. Neither do you."

"You don't need to do this." Her eyes were pleading with him behind the tears as she met his gaze. "Please don't do this."

"Happy birthday to me," he muttered, knowing that he could play on her guilt and twist the conversation back into his control, "guess this is at least better than horse-face serving me with divorce papers."

"Jax—"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "Just drop it for tonight, okay? I don't want to talk about it anymore." Holding out his arms to her, he sighed, "c'mere, babe."

She got up slowly, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand as she moved towards him. Her mascara smeared slightly, but he didn't care as he pulled her into his embrace. Wrapping his arms around her tightly, he ran his hands down her back. When he reached the edge of her panties, she drew in a little gasp, flinching slightly.

"What's wrong?"

A sad smile was on her lips as she pulled back slightly, "I almost forgot— it's part of your present." Turning around, she tugged down the lacy edge of the thong panties she was wearing, revealing a small tattoo.

Jackson's hands rested gently on her hips as he looked at it, understanding the context immediately. She'd gotten Jackson's signature tattooed, along with a date.

"I've been yours since that first drink," she said softly, turning back to face him. "I know you said the only thing you wanted today was peace and quiet but I needed you to know that I'm always gonna be here. There's nothing more permanent than this."

"I love it," he replied, pulling her in tight against his chest. He rested his cheek against the top of her head. "You can come out to the ring with me when I face Pariah. If things get bad, jump in— get me disqualified."

"What?" She tried to look up at him, but he was holding her too tightly. She remembered the last time she'd misread his signals and gotten a match thrown out in PCW— he'd blown a gasket. "Jax, are you sure?"

"Yeah." She could hear the tremor in his voice before he paused, "I'm sure."