Broken Machine [07/29/2014]

Two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye and Lyv Jackson was really starting to worry about her husband. Jackson had been sullen and withdrawn for the last week, wallowing in his own misery. He'd been spending more and more time away from their room, taking advantage of all the activities that the rehab center offered, despite the fact that he was in near-constant pain. Between that and his morning and evening counselling sessions, she was barely seeing him. She heard his heavy tread in the doorway before he said anything, but the muffled groan that passed his lips served as a greeting as he shuffled past her, making a beeline for the tiny ensuite bathroom.

"Hey, babe," she said, offering him a wide smile. "How'd it go?" It was getting difficult to be so perky all the time— she felt like she was giving herself an ulcer.

"Great, fuckin' great," he mumbled, shaking his head.

"I was thinking," she paused, fiddling with the frayed hem of her cut off shorts, "if you wanted, I could go into town and get you whatever you wanted to eat. Chinese, maybe? We haven't had that in a while."

He didn't bother to reply, instead soaking a washcloth and rubbing it over his face. He wasn't intentionally stonewalling her with silence, but after daily therapy sessions, he simply had nothing relevant to say.

Walking to the bathroom doorway, she watched him— every movement was so stiff these days, every motion so deliberate that he almost seemed angry even as he wrung out the cloth. "I could call Ellie and ask her to bring Christian—"

"What fuckin' part of 'I don't want her to see me like this' was lost on you?" The words came out harsher than he'd intended; that much was obvious by the stricken look on her face.

"I just thought..." she trailed off, realizing he actually was angry, "maybe it'd be nice to—"

"So call her. Go have dinner with them. Nobody says you have to stay here, Lyv."

That smile remained but it was brittle, "you asked me to be here, Jackson. You called me on the phone that first night and YOU asked me to come here. I didn't insist on tagging along." She couldn't help but feel discouraged at this shift in his mood. None of this was working out as she'd hoped.

"You wanted me to come home," the words came out in a hoarse rasp as he dropped the wet cloth on the sink. He avoided her eyes in the mirror's reflection, leaning forward and grasping the edges of the basin. "I have a right to privacy, Lyv— bad enough they're still talking about how motherfuckin' Lucy Pinder ran me—"

"Who?" she stared at him, puzzled.

"Jones," he corrected himself, shaking his head slowly. He couldn't keep names straight. They said it was a symptom of his treatment, weaning himself off the poison. The damage had already been done. "Pinder's a porn star. Same tit size, I think. Doesn't matter. One slut in a bodysuit is the same as the next."

Lyv shook her head, those mental gymnastics lost on her completely as she snapped, "I couldn't care less what size her tits are."

"Fine. Whatever. Lucy-motherfucking-Jones... that Decker Watts dipshit was already yanking my chain about losing to Tits McGee. What the fuck's it matter if I have her name right? I'm never gonna be back there..."

"What?" She found herself asking the same questions over and over, finding it hard to follow where his train of thought was bouncing. "I thought Sabra said you could return as soon as they sign off on it?"

He stated at her. "I'm not talking to you about this. This is what it is— maybe you can order some Eagle Wings from me. I'll get into that."

"Baby," she stared at him, "I don't understand what you're saying— you're scaring me."

"Not like anything I say anymore's important, is it?"

"It is when I'm trying to..." she broke off, shaking her head as the smile dropped from her lips. "Do you..." she trailed off, not sure she even wanted an answer to the question she'd almost blurted. Suddenly she felt like she was going to either deck him or burst into tears. Maybe both.

"When you're trying to what? Make me feel like garbage for not wanting my goddamn kids to see me limping around like some crippled up piece of shit?" He lifted his head, staring at her in the mirror's reflection. He looked so tired that it broke her heart— she knew he hadn't been able to sleep more than a few hours a night. "I told you that at least a hundred times, for fuck's sake. Bad enough I've got all these fucks poking and prodding and treating me like some human Fabergé egg. It's either that, or that look of pity right before some dipshit asks for an autograph for their nephew or somesuchshit—"

"What's wrong with them wanting an autograph?" She stared at him in confusion, "you used to live for moments like that—"

"You don't fuckin' get it," he snapped, turning his head to actually glare at her. "This isn't the guy they want to see, Lyv. You think I look like the guy who held that Global Championship for almost two months? Do I look like the guy who defended the MWA World Title with a fuckin' cracked collarbone?"

"Jax, y—"

"—do I look like the guy who held that crackerjack belt for a year?" He glared, "be honest. Do I look like that guy that CWF was jizzing all over themselves to sign? Well?"

The look on his face was scary and for a moment she remembered what he'd been like in Louisville when he'd broken her ribs. Taking a step back, she shook her head, "Jax, I..." her voice faltered. "I... don't know what you want me to tell you. You look the same to me, baby. You never looked any different, ever."

"See?" He shook his head, his voice filled with irritation as he returned to staring down at the cold water that was still running, "you don't fuckin' get it. Give Ellie a call... get outta here for the night—"

"What?" Her smile faded. "You don't want me here?"

"Don't say that," the anger bubbled to the surface as he snapped the words, knuckles white where he still gripped the edges of the sink.

"You asked me to come here, Jackson— which I wanted, don't get me wrong— but now it's like you can't stand to even be in the same room as me." Her arms came up and folded against her chest. "If I did something, tell me."

"It's all about you now?" Incredulity was in his voice as he lifted his head, finally looking at her. "Is that it? Have I been neglecting you, baby?"

Her posture stiffened as she stared up at him. It was on the tip of her tongue to lash out at him; there were so many frustrations running through her. "You—" with effort she actually bit her tongue, "you know what? Never mind." Her voice was calm as she turned away from him. "I'm going to just go read in the sun room; I'll just leave you alone." Her hand closed around the battered copy of Flowers in the Attic that she'd brought with her and she hugged it to her chest.

"Whatever," his tone came out flat— he didn't want her to leave but he couldn't bring himself to break down that last wall that the goddamned therapist had been trying to chip away at for days. He was already so damned weak. The last thing he wanted to come of this whole exercise in futility was for her to start seeing him for what he truly was. "Just stay here. I'll go for a walk."

The way he said it sounded more like he planned to go find someone or something to punch. She knew that look in his eyes all too well— if they'd been at home, he would have already been heading down to his weight room to lift until the point of exhaustion. She wondered if he could even lift anything right now with the way he was moving but couldn't bring herself to speak those words aloud. "Maybe," she hesitated for a second, "I should just go home for a couple of days." She turned her back to him, making every effort to keep her tone light. It was an empty suggestion, but she honestly wanted to see how he'd react. "It'll give you a chance to relax and you won't have someone nagging you."

He was halfway towards the door, wondering if he could find someone to mooch a cigarette from when her words penetrated his haze. Freezing, his hands curled into fists at his sides. "Is that what you want to do? Didn't know I was keeping you here against your will, Alyvia— if you want to go home, you're free to leave whenever you want."

"You don't want me here, Jax." She sounded pretty sure of it as she kept her back to him. He couldn't see the expression on her face, but it was pained. "I feel like my very presence aggravates you." Her shoulders finally slumped and he could tell she was trying to hold it together.

"I didn't say that," he muttered, shaking his head as he watched her try not to break down.

"Then why won't you let me help you? You're shutting me out." She finally turned and faced him. "I feel like it's last year all over again and we're falling apart."

"You can't help," he sighed, shaking his head. "Are you going to unfuck my head? Are you gonna erase the pain? You gonna fix my knees… my hands? Be realistic, babe."

"I thought that's why you wanted me here… to help." She was looking at her feet, feeling like a spoiled child who wasn't getting her way; she felt ridiculous. "Do you want me here?"

"You don't get it, do you?" He watched her avoid looking at him, feeling like a bag of shit— it did nothing to lessen the anger he was feeling.

"Do you want me here?" She asked him again, wanting a straight answer.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" He almost screamed the words, letting the anger out, "YES, YOU GODDAMN IDIOT… I WANT YOU HERE!"

She stared up at him, eyes widening— the sheer force of his words, scaring her. Shrinking back, she clutched her book to her chest and backed up against the bed. Her head bowed as she whispered, "I'm sorry," her voice shook. "I'll be good."

"Don't do that," he growled, taking a few steps towards her, "look at me."

She did as she was told, her body visibly trembling. She met his eyes, unable to hide the fear she felt.

"You know how much it kills me to see that fear in your eyes and know I put it there?" The question was rhetorical at best.

"I'll… I'll go and leave you alone, Jax. I'm so sorry."

"What're you afraid of?" The words came out before he could stop them, his voice shaking as he forced himself to face her. "You think I'm going to hurt you again?"

"No," she lied.

"Then what?" He scowled at her, trying like hell to read her mind. "Tell me!"

"Stop yelling at me." She brought her hands up and covered her ears. "Please, just stop yelling at me." Her eyes clenched shut as she kept her hands in place.

He had to count to twenty-five before he spoke, barely managing to keep his voice level for her sake. "I feel like shit," he turned his back on her, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm tired… I'm fuckin' mentally and physically drained and you want me to have a motherfucking smile on my face? Are you serious right now?"

Her eyes widened as she just stared at him. "Do you think you're the only one stretched to the limit here? I am trying to be Mary Fuckin' Sunshine twenty-four-seven, because I'm hoping it'll make things easier—"

"I don't want that," he turned around, eyes narrowed as he glared at her. "You think I want this fake bullshit? You think I want all smiles and subservience?"

"Then tell me what you want! I'm not a mind-reader; if you don't tell me, I have no fuckin' clue!" She fired this back at him. "You tell me that I'm your best friend, but you don't let me in. You're always holding back and when I do get too close, you shut down." Her arms were wrapped tightly around her; it felt almost as if she was wearing a straight-jacket. "No secrets, remember?"

"Yeah," he snorted in derision, shaking his head, "okay. That's what you want? You want me to tell you what's inside my head?"

"Jesus Christ, yes!"

"I'm scared, Lyv." He turned away, reaching up with a shaking hand to scratch the back of his head. "For a guy like me… that's not good. You know how much I need everything to be planned and carefully controlled... I don't have that... and I fall apart. I've got a contract with SCW for the next year, and I don't have a single fuckin' clue how I'm going to fulfill that."

"Sabra said they would work with you, remember?"

"She doesn't control the board, Lyv."

"Jax, I know you want to be in control, but sometimes unforeseen things happen." She walked over to him and dared to put her arms around his waist. "You have to know that whatever happens, we'll get through."

"I'm not ready to retire," he muttered, bowing his head although he made no effort to extricate himself from her embrace. "I still had stuff I wanted to do. I…" he swallowed hard, "wanted to go out on top— not like this."

"You still can."

The muscle in his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth, almost as though he was chewing on his answer before spitting it out. "How'm I gonna do that when I'm broken, huh? Can barely grab my dick hard enough to feel it and you think I can go out there and give it my all?"

She brought a hand up to rest on his cheek. "Jax—"

He pushed her away, growling under his breath. "Don't fuckin' patronize me— you know it drives me up the wall!"

"I am NOT patronizing you," she shook her head, hating the words even as they passed her lips, "I just want to help you get better."

"You wanna help?" He spun around, almost laughing bitterly in her face. "How much, Lyv? Where are we drawing the line? You gonna wipe my ass? Dress me from now on? You gonna go out and make the big bucks now to support me while I lay in bed, drooling and pathetic?"

"I'm your wife; why in the hell would there be a line?" She fired back, her eyes narrowed. Her anger was starting to get the best of her and she couldn't hold her tongue any longer. "So yes, if that's what it comes to, God forbid, you better believe I will be doing all of that. Jesus Christ, you're so convinced that I'm going to leave, you're shoving me away with both hands." Her hands came up and rested on her hips. "Well, I've got some news for you— the ONLY way that I'm leaving you is if you kill me."

"It'll come to that eventually." He said the words with conviction, "despite what you believe, Lyv, I am my father's son. Always have been."

"I can't win with you, can I?" she turned her back on him, going over to the window.

"What's winning?" He echoed her word, letting out a sigh, "me tossing you out's probably gonna be far less painful than—"

"You just don't fucking get it," she sounded so defeated and just sad. "Do you know how shitty it makes me feel knowing that you expect us to split up? Knowing that you expect the world, you expect OUR FRIENDS to kick you to the curb... you expect this business that considers you a goddamned LEGEND to just spit in your face now that you're..." she trailed off, not even knowing what to call his state of mind. "You said it yourself, Jax. You still have a contract signed with SCW to last until December. They won't risk the legal action—"

"Nothing in this business is a fuckin' given—"

"Fine. Fuck wrestling, then! Let's talk about us. Let's talk about what's happening to YOU, Jax. This has nothing to do with you being hurt— you've lost your faith—"

"—what the fuck does that even mean?"

"You don't have any faith in me or us and I can talk until I'm blue in the face, but it doesn't do any good." She shut her eyes, hoping to fight the tears that were ready to fall.

He was silent for so long she wondered if he was even going to bother replying. Finally he moved to his feet stiffly, wincing as his knees popped. "Don't cry… don't you dare start crying over this stupid shit." The words came out harder than he'd intended, almost like a verbal slap.

"What're you gonna do?" She asked, not looking at him.

"Nothin'," he snapped back at her, just the hint of that Southern accent creeping into his voice. "Same thing we're fightin' for, Lyv… NOTHIN'!"

Her face crumbled and she kept her back to him. Bringing a hand up, she covered her face, not wanting him to see her like this, even though he had so many times before. "M-maybe, I sh—"

The door was thrown open and three nurses they'd come to know over the weeks stood in the doorway. "Is there a problem Mister and Missus Jackson? We've gotten a few complaints about yelling coming from your room."

Jackson shook his head, "just havin' a conversation with my wife… is that a crime?"

The head nurse, who was older by at least ten years than Jax, shook her head. "Well the doctor wants to talk to you about your little conversation... both of you."

"Now?"

"Right now," she replied with a hard tone.

"Lovely..." Jackson muttered, his gaze cutting to Lyv. "Go wash your face before we go so he doesn't think I was in here slapping you around..."