She hurried through the arena, hoping no one noticed where she went. She doubted anyone cared, but if she ran too fast, someone might catch on that something was wrong. She had to get to the roof. He would be up there. He always made his way to the roof of any arena when he needed to get away.
She had seen it. She had seen the black eye he worked with. The entire world had seen it, but she was probably the only one who knew how he had gotten it, and it wasn't from a wrestling match like everyone else probably assumed. And she had seen his girlfriend walking around backstage even though she was supposed to be on SmackDown.
She took a look back to make sure no one was watching before she opened the door to the staircase. She took the stairs two at the time, her heart beating fast as if she was still out there in a match again Dana. That had been a dark match before RAW. That was a couple of hours ago. All that mattered now was finding him.
She opened the door to the roof, and there he was. He had either taken a chair with him, or someone had left it up there at some point. Probably the latter. He was sitting on the chair, staring out at nothing. His eyes landed on her when she came through the door.
"Dean," she sighed.
She walked over to him, and he pulled her in to stand between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her, rested his head against her stomach, and cried. She ran her fingers through what little hair he had left, letting him cry while comforting him.
"I'm sorry, Anette," he moved his head away. "I got your shirt all wet."
"Fuck my shirt! What is she doing here? Why is Charlotte here?" She asked.
"Triple threat at Wrestlemania between her, Becky and Ronda. You know this. The rumor has been out there for ages," he answered.
She tilted his head, and forced him to look at her. He hated that he made her worry about him. She was his beautiful angel, always ready to comfort him. She was definitely the beautiful one between her and her twin brother Heath Slater. They shared the same red hair and brown eyes, but that was about it.
"Dean," she traced his black eye with her fingers. "Did she do this?"
"No, it was... It was..." He struggled to find the words. "House show."
"Don't lie to me. I've been here all week. You didn't have this eye last night after your match, and now that Charlotte is here, I wanna know what went down in your hotel room last night," she said.
"Forget it," he mumbled.
He buried his head in her tee again. He was embarrassed, and he felt pathetic. He was seen as a big, strong man to the world, yet he found himself at the receiving end in an abusive relationship. He knew he could easily pacify Charlotte, but that meant he had to put his hands on her too, and he couldn't do that. He couldn't hurt a woman no matter what. And even if he could, the world would spin it around and make him look like the bad guy.
"Dean," she tried again.
"Can't we just sit here for a little while?" He asked.
"Yes, we can," she answered.
She moved around, getting her legs on the outside of his, straddling his lap, and holding him. He pulled her as close as he could, laying his head on her shoulder, looking out in the darkness while she stroked his head and neck. It always felt so good having her near.
He'd never understand how she had managed to see through all his bullshit and lies, how she had managed to figure out the truth about him and Charlotte, but she had, and in a way he was happy. At least he had someone on his side that didn't judge him or laugh at him.
"Do you wanna go out for a drink after the show?" She asked.
"I can't. Charlotte wants to go home," he answered.
"Of course," she said. "How about Friday then? Or is she coming with us for the house shows?"
"No, she'll jump between the brands like Becky. I'm alone for the house shows. Friday sounds good," he said.
He leaned out and looked at her. His tears had stopped, but his eyes were still wet, and his cheeks were bright red. She never looked at him differently. She smiled at him like the guardian angel she seemed to be.
"Can I get a smile?" She asked.
"Anette," he shook his head while smiling.
"There's my pretty husky," she said.
"Husky?" He chuckled. "Remind me again why you're always comparing me to that breed."
"My favorite breed, and you're my favorite Dean," she winked. "There's a good dog inside that breed. And you, my dearest Dean, you are a good man. You just need to see it yourself."