AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is a companion fic to Shining Wizard and contains spoilers for that fic. The other two companion fics I promised are called Shining Stars (about Dean and Nattie) and Shining Hearts (about Taylor and Tenille) and are also officially up on this site. It doesn't matter what order you read these three fics in, because they all go in different directions, but please make sure to read the original fic first! Enjoy Rosa and Drew's sides of the story! Please read and review, and as always, thanks for your support!

CHAPTER ONE

ROSA

I'm just watching the show from backstage. That's pretty normal lately. They hardly use me anymore. I'm not too interested until I see AJ having a total nervous breakdown on camera. You can't fake that. I see the way she's trembling and that she can't breathe. She's all alone in the ring and the girl isn't moving. I barely know AJ, but I know a bad trip when I see one. I also know she won't move on her own.

"Fuck it," I say. "Looks like Rosa Mendez is appearing on RAW tonight after all." I rush out and hurry into the ring. I look at her with my kindest eyes and extend my hand to her. "Just follow my lead," I whisper. I link my arm through hers and skip away, taking her with me. The sound guys play her music and we make it backstage.

She looks like she is gonna go to where Dean and our boss are yelling at each other, but I don't let her. "Uh-uh," I say, leading her in the other direction.

When we are alone, I sit her down. "So, what is it, Girl?" I ask her.

"Huh?" She asks me.

"Your poison. You're too steady for booze, but I know a bad trip when I see one."

"What? Rosa, no, I'm not-" Denial. Yup. That's the first sign.

"It's okay, AJ. I've been there. I get it. Let me help."

"I appreciate it, but I'm not on drugs."

I pause. I can't keep the skepticism out of my voice as I gently ask, "Then what happened?"

"I'm having a bad day," She says. Well, that much is obvious.

"You can talk to me."

She pauses, then says, "Thanks. I'll be okay. They just changed the script without telling me and I froze."

I nod. I really want to ask for details. I'm a super curious person and I can tell she's in trouble, but I know when someone's not ready to talk, and AJ Lee isn't ready. I back off. Instead, I offer her a bottle of water and walk her back toward everyone else.

When I'm alone, I contemplate how to spend the rest of my evening. I'm trying not to obsess about whether or not this girl is going to be okay. I take a deep breath, drink some of my own water, and say, "It's not your problem, Rosa… Remember that." My name's not legally Rosa, but I prefer it. Rosa's pretty and elegant and classy and everything I'd like to be, so that's how I choose to think of myself. Legally, my name is Milena Leticia Roucka. It's not such a bad name, but it carries a lot of crap with it.

I'm a professional at making mistakes. I've made so many bad choices, I should write a book, What Not To Do In Life. I'm trying to be better now. I'm sober. That's a really important step. A while back, I never thought I'd get here. So I just take it one day at a time and do my thing.

Lately, my "thing" is hanging out backstage waiting to see if I'm needed, dancing Fandango out, and wearing a hot dress that makes me feel sexy as hell. I'd rather be in the ring, beating people up, but I've got ring rust. Even I have to admit that much. I'm trying to get past it, but taking all that time off to get clean in rehab hurt my career. It's going to take a lot to get back where I need to be. That's okay. I'm an extremely determined person. I know I can do this.

I go back to my hotel room and turn on the television. As I flip through the channels absent mindedly, I wonder when I'm going to get the hell out of this rut I'm stuck in.

DREW

The day the WWE released me, I believed it was the worst day of my life next to losing my Ma. Nothing will ever beat that one. Ever since, however, I've been back on the independent circuit, and I suddenly can't remember why I wanted to leave. It's great! I'm winning titles in one country and defending them in another. I'm wrestling anywhere and everywhere that I can. Most of all, I'm having fun again.

I'm not trying to say I didn't enjoy my time in WWE. I was Drew McIntyre, the Chosen One, and that gimmick was great. I got to do the things I do best. Vince McMahon endorsed me himself. He doesn't do that. Ever. It was an amazing experience.

Then I got injured. I was shelved until I recovered, and then put in 3MB, the absolute worst idea WWE Creative had concocted in a while. Please don't misunderstand me. Heath and Raj, or as you know him Jinder, are my boys. I love them both like brothers. Heath's a great entertainer and he can wrestle a lot better than what WWE lets him show. Raj is great in the ring, brutal just the way I like my wrestlers, but he hasn't talked to me much since we both got released. He's really jealous that Heath kept his job and we were both fired. I'm not. Heath had literally just had his second kid. They weren't going to release him at that point. I'm glad he's still doing what he loves. And you know? I'm doing what I love now, too.

Speaking of, Scotty Colton, or Colt Cabana, is standing the ring waiting for me. I don't know how I ended up against Scotty tonight. We've never fought before, but he's a nice enough guy. He's funny, I will say that much. I can be funny, too. My fanbase is especially fond of my promo skills, and I'm happy to deliver.

Scotty tries to escape me several times, but I give him quite a beating. We pause at all the right moments and the audience is both cheering and laughing throughout the match. I'm having a lot of fun. It's good times until I hit Scotty with the Futureshock DDT, and he boom-booms no more. Actually, it's still good times for me, but not so much for him. I take the microphone and cut another promo because the fans literally chant "promo" until I do. Then I leave the ring.

When I get backstage, Scotty's all smiles. "That was great, man! You are something else," he tells me.

"Yer not so bad yerself," I tell him. I shake his hand.

"Come on my podcast sometime. People will listen just to hear you talk."

I laugh, but it's true. Apparently, the fans like listening to me, which is weird but very cool. I'm happy to do it. I love this business more than I love anything, and now that I'm free and back on the indies, I love it so much more.

It's been a good night. I top it off with a couple of drinks at Scotty's insistence. I'm happy as I head back to my room, but when I get there and finally check my phone, I see a message from Stephen, or as the fans know him, Sheamus.

CALL ME FELLA. Yes, he serious sends me text messages talking about "fella." That's sort of Stephen's thing, in or out of the ring. I shake my head and call him.

"Fella!" He greets me. He's plastered. "How was yer match?"

"Good. How was yers?" I ask.

"Yer not funny." Stephen's been out on injury.

"I meant against the whiskey bottle ya clearly downed tonight."

"Oh, that? That went well." He's laughing and so am I. I may not be too big on the WWE right now, but Stephen and I go way back, and we'll be friends until the day we die, and even then I suspect we'll be sharing pints in Heaven or wherever.

"Did ya call for any real reason?"

"I can't remember."

I laugh. "Get some sleep, ya lush! I'll talk to ya when yer sober."

"So I'll never hear from ya again, laddy?"

I'm laughing harder now. He's got a point. "Right. I'll talk to ya when yer slightly more sober than ya are now."

"Alright, I can live with that." He hangs up and I shake my head. I miss Stephen and Stu (Mr. Bad News is another old friend of mine), but I still know I'm better off with this new life. I close my eyes, feeling on top of the world, and hope I can stay here for a long time.