TWENTY-THREE: Mistakes [CCW]

It had taken every single ounce of self control not to lose his mind on the Uber driver that had kept some Latin fusion music blaring at the most obnoxious volume for the entire trip from the airport. By the time the car pulled up to the curb, he had the worst headache imaginable. It didn't help that after wrestling two days back-to-back in a foreign country, jet-lagged with no sleep, that his flight home had been delayed and then cancelled. He was in dire need of rest, of a damned shower because he could feel the layer of grime like it was an entity hanging over him – it was a wonder it wasn't visible at this point. He staggered out of the car, slamming the door hard in the hopes that it would lift his mood. It made his head ache worse and as the car peeled away with a strip of burnt rubber, he was left coughing and wishing he'd never left home at all.

The fact that he'd been out of the country meant that he was now required by law to stay home and he wondered just how thrilled Charity was going to be when he told her that he was going to sleep in the spare bedroom. The last thing he wanted to do was take another stupid chance. Going away this weekend had been a ludicrous mistake – he'd thought a company named Christ-Centered Wrestling was going to be safe. Something good for the children and instead it had been the most ludicrous circus he'd ever been a part of.

He hoisted his duffel bag that contained his soiled wrestling gear over his shoulder, making his way towards the garage rather than the house – if he went in through there, he could strip off everything and throw it directly into the laundry. The moment the door started to roll open without him pushing the button, he knew he was in for it. It was almost as though he could taste the ozone in the air, that electricity before a storm. "Six feet back," he muttered, letting the bag fall from his hand once he was even with the car. "Might've been exposed."

Charity stood in the doorway that led from the garage into their house. Her arms were folded against her chest and above her pregnant stomach. Usually if Bruce had been gone and she hadn't been able to go with him, she would have been eager to see him, at least had a smile on her face. As glad as she was that he'd made it home safe, it was obvious she was very unhappy with her husband. As she looked at him, she had an eyebrow raised and her posture was stiff.

"Fine." Her reply was short and she turned and went back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

He didn't follow her. Not at first. Instead he knelt next to the bag and shoved his hand into the side pocket, feeling around for the crumpled pack of cigarettes he knew was in there. They'd been around for almost a year at this point, half the hard-packed tobacco had come loose and floating around so when he pulled his hand out, it was covered in little brown flecks. The pack had three left in it and he pulled one out with his teeth. He put the contraband pack back where he'd found it and straightened up with a groan, everything cracking at once in a hideous symphony of old age. He dragged in a breath, feeling like he was going to keel over but sheer pride kept him on his feet and he picked up the barbecue lighter from the workbench, bringing flame to the tip. The first inhale was rough, harsh and burning his already raw throat but he forced himself not to cough. He'd damn-well earned this. Three drags later and his head was spinning and he had to put it out. It was either that or he'd be puking his guts out – he didn't want that. He pinched off the cherry with his fingers, not even feeling the heat. The remains he dropped on the workbench to be dealt with later. If there was a later.

When he shuffled through the door, she wasn't in sight and he wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. He didn't bother to ponder, stripping down to his underwear and tossing everything into the empty washing machine.

After leaving Bruce alone in the garage, Charity had gone into the living room where she'd been folding clothes. A big part of the clothing she was folding were clothes for their twins that were coming in June. Even though they still had two and a half months, it still felt like there wasn't enough time to do it all. Focusing on the babies had helped keep her mind on things other than the fact that Bruce had put himself in danger by going to Saudi Arabia. When she'd found out he was traveling out of the country to compete, it hadn't been long before he had to leave and by the time her shock wore off, he was gone. She had decided that she wasn't going to be angry while he was gone, life was too short and anything could have happened to him. Once he was home and she knew he was safe, she could be as mad at him as she wanted.

The blonde was seated on the comfortable couch with the television turned on and a tiny onesie in her hands. Her ears perked up when she heard the door leading to the garage open and she felt her jaw clench. Still, she didn't say anything, instead she focused on the little blue article of clothing.

She heard the sound of his bare feet on the hardwood floor, each slap bringing the tension one notch higher. "Awright." His voice came out hoarse and she looked up to see him standing in the arched doorway, nearly naked. She could see a bruise on his ribs and more on his legs, standing out starkly against his pale skin. "Let's have it then."

"What you did was stupid and shitty." Her attention went back to the laundry, every action radiating how upset she was. "Fucking stupid, Bruce." Breathing in through her nose, she exhaled through her mouth. She had to remind herself to stay calm for the sake of the twins.

"If yer looking for me tae argue..." he shook his head, "don't have it in me."

Charity looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. "Why was this so important?"

"It-" he started to explain, but she cut him off sharply.

"I saw the stream. I saw your little dance competition."

She'd always watched him compete. It wasn't a stretch to think that she'd sought this out too and now he felt the shame washing over him. "Cherry..."

"No, Bruce. I need you to tell me why that shitshow was important enough to not just put you at risk, but potentially the babies and me?" The more she thought about it, the more baffling it was. "So, what's the reasoning behind that?"

"Wouldn't understand," Bruce grumbled, torn between coming further into the room to try and calm her down and maintaining his distance. He wanted to take a shower until he'd peeled away a layer of skin beneath the filth but that would obviously have to wait. He raked a hand through his disheveled hair, letting out a sigh. "Was suppose tae be safe, was presented as such. In an' out, two days of good, clean..." he couldn't even finish the thought, the bitterness oozing in to join the exhaustion. "Was a mistake, Cherry. Was that what yeh wanted tae hear? It was a goddamned mistake."

"So, what now? You said you might have been exposed..." It wasn't as much anger as it was how terrified she was that he might have caught something. "Do I need to go stay somewhere else until we know you're okay?" She pushed herself to her feet, her arms wrapped around herself as best as she could. "I can't let anything happen to these babies." She'd lost two babies in the past and with the twins so far along, she knew she wouldn't survive losing them. "And if you're sick.... How am I supposed to be there for you?" She also knew if she lost him, she wouldn't survive that, either. "Jesus Christ." Her hand came up and rested over her eyes.

"I was careful." He said, knowing that it wouldn't matter. He was already compromised by the lack of sleep and the huge toll he'd put on his body. "I left the country. That's all I meant. I don't..." he couldn't bring himself to assure her – the last thing he wanted was to be wrong, to jinx himself. "I'll go. Get a motel for a few days... a week at most. Supposed tae be tested tomorrow. Already made the appointment so there's no use wasting energy on it now-"

"You're an asshole." Her hand dropped and the tears she'd fought like the devil to hold back, had begun. "You've spent nights unable to sleep because you're worried about Vic and Maggie being healthy. Yet you didn't give it a second thought to get on a plane and leave the country. You didn't even talk to me about it, just fucking told me right before you had to go."

"And if I'd talked to ya? How would that've gone, hmm?" He moved a little further into the room, staring at her. "Would've said no. Would've talked me out of it, wouldn't yeh?" Bruce's eyes were narrowed now, the frustration and irritation boiling over. "Tell me yeh 'don't fuckin' unnerstand my motivation'." His voice rose a few octaves, meant to mock her. "Not workin', love. That fuckin' Glory hole's never gonna reopen, never gonna get my dick sucked the way I did there ever again. Yeh think I don't know that? It was a one-time deal... an' for all the wins I racked up there, still couldn't get the job done when it mattered."

The self loathing was pouring out now and he hated the fact that he'd actually admitted it to her. He'd been lying for years, acting like it didn't matter as long as he got out there, got to be part of a good show. "I wasn't thinkin' about you or the weans. Wasn't thinkin' about this damned pandemic or the state of the blasted world – was thinking about myself. Yeh want me tae crawl on my belly over broken glass for penance 'cause I made a decision without consultin' you, the fuckin' Queen of the Manor? Fuck right off with that shyte, Cherry. Yeh goddamn well know why I did it."

Standing there, she wiped at her eyes and shook her head. There was a battle raging inside of her that was a mixture of wanting to comfort him and wanting to shake him. What she knew without a shadow of a doubt was that she needed to get out of the house. She'd been housebound for weeks and it was only adding to the stress she was under. Also, the thought of being alone for another week was scaring her. Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep and calming breath. The babies were getting active and she knew it was because she was getting worked up. Opening her eyes, she stared right back at him.

"Well, you do whatever you need to and I'm going to do the same." She moved from her spot and made her way to the master bedroom. "Don't worry about booking a motel; you can stay here."

He trailed after her like a lost puppy, still itching for a fight now that he'd allowed himself to get all riled up. "Do whatever I need to? The fuck's that even mean?!" He stopped in the hallway outside the bedroom, not wanting to touch anything. "It's over with. It's done. The only thing I've left on the schedule is that Triad thing in May – that one. Single. Fuckin'. Thing. What else do yeh think I've got cooked up here, huh? Think I've made some more plans behind yer back? Oh aye, love. Gonna do a geek show fundraiser in New York City next. Ground zero. Couple thousand dollars for me to lick a toilet seat an' then kiss you right on the lips after. Kill us both – how's that sound?"

She heard every word he said, but that didn't cause her to get distracted from what her mission was. Into the closet she went and pulled out a duffel bag. "Do whatever you want." The bag was tossed on the bed as she went to her dresser and started pulling out clothes. The less she said to him at this moment, the better. She could feel her blood pressure start to rise and that had to stop. As much as she loved him, she needed a few days to decompress.

"What..." past the anger and the despair at his failing career, he finally realized what she was doing and something in him snapped. He let out a strangled sound and crossed the room, grabbing her by the arm. "What the-" he stopped talking and froze, realizing what he'd just done. Thankfully his fingers had closed over the worn cotton of one of his old long-sleeved Harley tees but he still immediately released her and took a step back. "Shit. I-I'm sorry."

"It's fine." It startled her at first and once he'd stepped back, she made a beeline for the bathroom. In there, she stripped off the shirt and washed her hands and arm. She wasn't altogether worried that minuscule physical contact did anything. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. Hanging on the back of the bathroom door was her hot pink bathrobe that she threw on and tied shut.

Going back into the bedroom, her arms were crossed against her chest. "I was just gonna go for a couple of days... take Loch and just decompress, Bruce. That's it." She didn't meet his eyes, hers were staring at the carpet.

"Wheesht," he visibly winced, taking another step back as though she'd started swinging. "Is that really necessary?" He felt the doorframe against his back, feeling more defeat in this retreat than any other in his entire life. He'd gone to that event hoping for another shot at glory, another chance to revive his career and instead he'd embarrassed himself and torn everything else apart. "Cherry? Mebbe it'll be... I'll go wash up. Clean all my things I took with me. I didn't touch anything... wore gloves most of the time. Threw them out at the airport." The more he said, the more those words fell from his lips, the more apparent his panic was even though he was trying to hide it. "Kept to meself most of the time. I shouldn't-" he broke off, realizing how huge of a mistake this trip truly was. He wanted to turn back time and undo everything. He felt an ache in his chest and knew it was despair rather than the onset of the dreaded virus. "Yeh don't have tae leave, Cherry."

"Okay." The word came out quietly as she went and started to put the clothes she'd gotten out, away. "I just didn't want to be alone for another week. Hannah had said I could go stay with them if I needed a change of scenery. Those few days you were gone... it just felt eerie here – this place is too big for one person."

"I know." He turned away, unable to look at what he'd done to her. "If a change is what's needed..." he struggled to get the words out past the growing lump in his throat, forcing himself to swallow back his temper. The argument was pointless. His motivation for going had been foolish – he knew that.

"Bruce, I-"

"Cherry..." they both started to talk at the same time, both falling silent. He remembered the fights they'd had when Sam was little, when she'd lost what would have been their firstborn son. The last thing he wanted was to tax her body like that. "Just a couple days... might be for the best. I don't wanna..."

As much as she didn't want to be in that house alone, seeing how freaked out Bruce was cemented her decision. "I'm gonna stay here, be productive and once we know you're fine, you're going to come home and stay until that other event in May."

"I'll sleep in the spare room." Bruce said softly, unable to bear the thought of being away from her, even if it was something he'd caused. "For tonight. Until I've had the testing... there's... fuckin' hell." He broke off, shaking his head, ashamed to realize there were tears in his eyes. It was all hitting him too hard. The reality that the world had been irreparably changed was the least of it. "Nae, can't do that, can I? Should go – have tae go. I'll shower first. Clean up the soiled things. Clean everything I've touched so yeh don't..."

"Okay." She nodded, the lack of sleep she'd had over the past few days was starting to catch up with her. "I'm going to let Loch in and lay down for a while." Looking at her husband, it was hard not to go over and fall into his arms. "You're going to be fine, my love. And when they tell you that you are, I'm never letting go of you."

"When they do, am gonna kiss you until our lips fall off." He stared at her for a few seconds and then turned away, heading out of the room to do the chores he'd promised. Pausing in the hallway, he turned to look back at her, tears in his eyes. "Am sorry, Babylove. For all of this... for bein' a horse's arse. Truly am."

"I know," came her soft reply and he made sure he could see that acceptance in her body language before he finally turned away, shambling off like a zombie to start fixing the mess he'd made.

If the test came back positive, if it turned out he'd put his family in jeopardy over a jaunt to Saudi Arabia that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, he'd be hard-pressed not to put a bullet in his brain for the sheer stupidity. Some things were worth fighting for. The twilight end of his damned joke of a wrestling career certainly wasn't it.