QUESTIONS & ANSWERS (Chapter 25: Run) [WGWF]

She’d found the black canvas bag on a shelf in the closet, discarded there among extra insoles for her husband’s boots and another bag full of winter hats and mittens – the weight had been a clue to what was inside even before she’d opened it, but that irrational fear had won out and for a moment that panic clutched at her chest. It was too flat to be that damned candlestick, but she dumped it on top of the laundry basket and took it downstairs. After tossing the rest of the load into the machine along with the scarves and mittens she’d pulled from the closet, she carried the bag over to the folding table in the corner, upending it on top of the towels she hadn’t finished sorting. There was a streak of blood across the golden surface along with a few sooty fingerprints that certainly belonged to Sev, likely from the war paint he smeared around his eyes. Now that it was out of the bag, she could see this was the IIW Legacy Championship belt. She was certain by the weight and the minute imperfections that this was the real deal and as she stared at that royal blue leather, she realised this was the first time she’d looked at closely. So many things had happened in such a short time that he’d been champion for only a couple of weeks when her father had done his best to tear their lives apart.

She ran her fingers over the raised edges, feeling an ache in her chest. She knew how much it had meant to him when the match had been announced, the surprised look on his face when those dashed hopes had been restored. He’d lost to Mac Bane, washed out of that tournament only to be given a second chance – it had been so rare for him and that broke her heart. She knew he was better than 90% of the wrestlers in the business, much more dedicated and skilled but it seemed like the universe needed to keep kicking him, keep forcing him to climb that mountain over and over again. Gently setting it aside, she turned to unload the dryer, thinking that maybe she’d clean it up a little before returning it to the closet.

Sev’s eyes snapped open as he rolled over on the bed, completely disoriented. Glancing over at the clock, he realized that his internal alarm had clearly broken along with everything else in his head because that three-hour nap he’d intended to take had turned into at least seven by his estimation. He was alone in the bedroom and for a second, he simply lay there, listening to the sounds in the house. The silence was overwhelming and made him panic before he realized that the baby monitor was still on, and he could hear the soft sounds of Lenore’s breathing. LJ wouldn’t have left him alone with the baby without waking him up first which meant she was here somewhere and the relief that washed over him as that reality asserted itself was palpable. Gingerly, he crawled out of bed, still feeling twice his age as his stiff muscles protested at the movement.

A few minutes later, he was headed towards the basement, led there by the clues of a dropped sock on the stairs. He froze midway down the stairs, the wind forced out of his lungs like he’d just been punched in the gut. His hand gripped the banister so hard that the bracket holding it to the wall squeaked in protest; the sound was lost under the flapping of linens as his wife expertly folded them. His eyes were locked on that belt, sitting there on the table as if it meant to mock him.

LJ was humming, on the verge of singing when she caught sight of her husband on the stairs. All at once the smile on her lips faded, the melody dying on her lips when she saw the stricken look on his face. "I’m sorry," she tried to explain when she followed his gaze to the belt, "I found it in the closet with the winter things. I was going to clean it up a little for you."

"Wh-" he couldn’t even finish the question, couldn’t even move beyond the spot he was frozen in. His voice came out sounding strangled and what he said made no sense to her ears. "Don’t do this right now. I..." his knees came unhinged slowly and he sat down hard on the stairs, immediately cradling his head in his hands.

"Sev." Her eyes were pleading for him to understand that it had been an accident. She hadn’t known he was intentionally keeping it out of sight, that the damned thing provoked such irrational anger in him that he wanted to tear the entire universe apart. "It’s just a thing, inanimate – it holds no power. All those negative vibes, those shitty associations are in your head."

It was so fucking ironic that she was saying the same thing to him that he’d said to her when those damned iron candlesticks had arrived by courier. She’d told him that he didn’t understand; she could feel that evil radiating. He could feel something too, the laughter of everyone who’d managed to get one over on him again.

You big dummy.

She approached him slowly, holding out her hand as though he was a spooked dog that she was afraid might bite. "Sev-"

He snorted in derision, cutting her off. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, "you do not understand." It was about more than the damned championship. It was about more than his failure to pick up the UK Title before they decided to close the doors. It was about more than the ever-growing collection of championships and the win streak that was looming over his head. It was everything. And nothing. And history repeating in these patterns that were making him want to set the whole damned wrestling industry on fire. 

Godzilla. Tokyo. Who will stop us? 

"Then talk to me," she swallowed hard, "because lately it feels..." she trailed off, unable to finish that thought. If she told him how helpless she truly felt, how the slightest silence and flinch from him made her want to curl up and die, he’d surely run screaming, disgusted by her weakness.

"Feels like what?" His voice was softer now, his gaze locked on her.

"I heard what you said to Vaughn. About the past. I know you’re trying to move on but hiding that thing away in the back of the closet isn’t going to erase what you feel."

"You think I don’t know that?" Sev shook his head. "Out of sight, out of mind. This is what I need right now, Elle – to focus on moving forward. There are other places to be. There are more names to cross off the list, and more opportunities. WGWF could be the start of something perfect, something to fill the gaps between Entity shows. XWF's Madness could also fit that bill. I am testing waters, seeing what fits. In this moment of transition, I just need..." he trailed off, realizing he couldn’t really put what he was feeling into words.

"Your family…" she tried finishing the sentence for him. "We’re always going to be here for you." She knelt in front of him and gently grabbed one of his hands. "Don’t turn your back on me – on us. No matter what, you have my support, Sev. Even if the situation is far from perfect right now."

His hand was shaking, and he knew she could feel it. He couldn’t stop the words from passing his numb lips, knowing they’d hurt her. "I am sorry. I need a moment alone." He pulled his hand from her grasp, turning and walking back up the stairs in silence.

Funny how things work out, isn’t it? A little over a month ago, I wrestled my last match for IIW – my, how quickly time flies. And the sad irony of that whole place was that I felt like Godzilla on a rampage, a larger-than-life monster, tearing apart the city only to find that everyone who had been shoved between the ropes to face me was nothing more than a straw man. A fall guy. Padding for a record that I never asked for, that is until the last one.

Oh, Johnny. Do you remember what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that spear? Do you remember what it felt like to hit me with everything you had in you only to fall short? Ah, but I complained about the lack of true competition. I lamented the fact that my skills – and my TIME – were squandered. Be careful what you wish for, you may just get to take another pass. Poor Johnny. A part of me truly feels bad for what I am about to do.

And maybe getting that guilt off my chest will help me sleep a little better. Maybe a little magic absolution is good in these twilight hours. For one brief shining moment, I was king of the mountain in IIW, working my way towards Jmont himself. Months of blood and sweat wasted. Months of hard work for nothing, only for high tide to come. The mountain turned out to be a goddamned sandcastle, washed away. And now I got nothing to show for it but sand in my gear bag that's going to take years to get rid of.

Ah yes, I realise being sarcastic about the whole thing paints me in a bitter hue, doesn’t it?

Two companies folded up while I was on a roll – oh sure, PWE claims they are coming back any day now. I will believe it when I see it. The thing is, I am sick and tired of proving myself over and over again. I hope this company doesn’t lock the doors the moment my hand is raised in victory. Oh, but please tell me that I am wrong. That it will never happen here, in a place that is well-established and rich with history. I should not be bitter. Shit happens, right? There are a thousand companies out there; they crop up overnight, making promises they can't keep. I am just the DUMMY foolish enough to swallow those big words and jump at the chance.

So now I'm back on the road, gearing up for a match that brings me no measure of joy and I wonder which of these interchangeable assholes are going to pretend not to know who I am. Chatman would rather captivate a drooling audience of middle-aged horny women than wrestle a match with me. And Cable? Will he even be recovered enough after that bout with Mac Bane? The silence from all parties is deafening. What’s the play here? To provoke me to anger before I even get into the ring? How adorable. As if I haven’t been on edge for weeks.

YOU WILL NOT LIKE ME WHEN I’M ANGRY.

Silence is fine. Golden, in fact. I do not require your recognition. I managed to hold that LEGACY Championship just fine without a peep from most of my opponents, dipshit illiterate Johnny Stylez included. Go on, then. Dazzle me with your sparkling wits. Tell me all the things you wish to do to me. I will do my utmost to pretend to care. 

SoAk SoMe Up!!!

For once, I would like a fight against someone WORTHY. After all this shit lately, I think I have earned that. Here’s the truth: all the time they were bleeding me, trying to cage and humiliate me, I was happy to comply. Why? I felt useful. I felt important. 

THAT WAS NEVER MY PURPOSE.

I SEE THAT NOW.
DO YOU?

And yet I am still here, in this cursed business that has never once given me back an ounce of the love and passion I have poured into it. Why? Why do I keep doing this to myself? Because I crave your loathing? Because I want to ruin something that was once beautiful? Because I am sick of watching lesser pieces of shit gather all the accolades and parade them around and then have tantrums like babies the moment they lose a match? You know who I am talking about. We will address that offensive shit soon enough. In the meantime?

I WANT YOU TO HATE ME.

TO REVILE ME.

TO TRY AND DESTROY ME.

When the time comes that nobody gives a shit about you anymore, when the revolving door spits you back out on the street... I want you to think about this moment. I want you to know I saw every last one of you for the polished turds you really are. I want you to think of me when you're laying there broken, counting the lights, wondering why you can no longer move your legs without excruciating pain. As your soul leaves this cursed world, you will thank me for the liberation. You will understand the truth that I bring to this business. You will finally grasp what I have been trying to tell you all along. Run away while you still can.

HEROES ARE EXPENDABLE.
WORTHLESS.

You think you can take me out? You think you can end my DOMINION? You think you have what it takes to weather the coming storm? That's hilarious. 

DREAM ON.
YOU ARE DAMNED.
ALL OF YOU.

He could have slept for a month, and he'd probably still feel ragged at this point. Every inch of his body was on fire, his hands and wrist throbbing from spending far too much time in the gym. The screen of his phone had a halo around it that didn't fade when he blinked. He pushed it away, not even caring when it slid off the side of the mattress, bouncing on the floor.

A sleepy purr came from beside him, LJ's warmth against his side as she cuddled in close. "Mmmmm... I love you, Sev."

He wanted to deny it in that moment, to tell her that he wasn't worthy of that adoration because the guilt was still on him. "Love you too," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly over the emotion that suddenly welled up. "You should be sleeping."

"You should too," reaching out, she gently put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I heard you... recording that promo."

He tensed under the press of her hand, the darkness too thick for him to see anything but a vague shape. His chest was so tight it felt like his heart would burst. "Oh," he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut as he rolled over on his stomach, bracing himself for what she might think of his insane ramblings. None of it was scripted. He just went in there and said whatever came to his mind. Lately, that lizard part of his brain was taking over more often and he'd stopped playing the recordings back. He didn't like how unhinged he sounded. 

"I was curious where you were at this morning when you weren't curled up with me. Checked on Lenore. Thought you might've been in there with her."

"I was. For a moment." His voice radiated warmth, the love he felt for his daughter evident. "Couldn't sleep. Had to get the poisonous thoughts out." His hands curled into fists, and he hid them under the pillow, turning his face. It was too dark to see her – his tired eyes hadn't adjusted yet. "You know how it gets sometimes."

LJ sighed. "I do. I know... just like snuggling up with you."

He felt a smile tugging at his lips as his hands relaxed. "Makes two of us. When I wake up and see you there, feel you… it is like instant peace. If I could bottle that and sell it, I'd never have to work a day in my life again."

"I have my moments."

He said nothing, lost in his thoughts. These moments felt so fleeting now, so ephemeral that he wanted to grab them and hold them close – he knew even his hands would never be strong enough to make that happen. It would all come crashing down again. It was only a matter of time and he was just waiting to see if it was going to be his career or his personal life that took the hit this time.

"You'll do great, even if I don’t know what the hell a Metal Mayhem match is." Her lips found his in the dark and she kissed him softly, her fingertips like ice against his warm cheeks before she broke that contact. Her forehead rested against his for a moment before she sighed. "I know it, Sev. You’ll take WGWF by storm the same way you did all the others."

For once, her faith didn't send that shame spiraling up from the depths. Instead, he felt warm. Content.

"Don't question it," her voice came out soft, breath tickling his ear, "take it for what it's worth, and push your fist down their throats. Theoretically, of course."

"It is hard not to look for the other shoe to drop. For the curtain to get whisked away so I can see the guy pulling the strings, laughing." He sighed, closing his eyes again, "and maybe that's my own paranoia talking but it's just... all I wanted the last year and now it's just falling in my lap?"

"Let it fall into your lap." Sounded so reasonable when she said it like that, "then pick it up and run with it." She ran her hand along his neck, "when one door closes, another opens, right?"

He hesitated, enjoying the feel of her fingers, "I am going to run until my legs fall off. Time to do it for me... on my own terms."

"Run, baby, run. Take the ball." She snuggled in close, wrapping her legs around his torso before softly kissing the back of his neck, her arms curling under his, her hands softly grazing along his chest. "No matter what...... always...." she trailed off into silence.

"Always what?"

"My champion." She whispered sleepily, curling her head against the back of his neck.

"Always," he echoed, amending it slightly, "yours."

She said it so low he almost didn't hear it, more contented sigh than actual articulation. "Perfect."

"Yes." He intertwined his fingers with hers, "together, we are."