Hello everybody! I know, I'm very late saying Hi to you, but when I first started posting this story, I struggled with the user interface so much that I was glad I got a chapter posted and didn't even try to include notes. But, six chapters in and there still seem to be people reading, which makes me very happy and grateful, so I wanted to try again to give you the basics.

This is actually a completed story that I wrote between September '15 and April '16 for a dear friend and I only decided to publish it once I was sure I could finish the plot. And since it is called 20/20, it is split up in 20 chapters. I'll update every Sunday morning/noon and Wednesday evening (my time zone).

Any questions, comments, don't hesitate to write, I hope you'll enjoy the story!

In early April 2020, Seth Rollins felt that his life, all in all, was going well. How could it not, after all, he was World Heavyweight Champion, again, and as a face this time, so he was not constantly booed. He thoroughly enjoyed being cheered during his long feud with Brock Lesnar which was about to come to a - hopefully spectacular - end tomorrow at Wrestlemania.

It was still pretty early on the day before the big event and Seth was on his way to the lobby, sports bag on the one shoulder and the title on his other. He suppressed the urge to scratch his head because they had just bleached the right side of his hair again yesterday. Just some last hours of practice a couple of interviews and he would be ready for the big day.

He walked into the hotel lobby and checked if the heels had managed to get out on schedule so he and the other faces could get to their cars without being seen together. No, apparently not - his eyes immediately found Roman, who was staring at the somewhat jumbled lobby furniture in an exasperated fashion.

Apparently the Terrible Three - Roman's little son and Daniel's twins, all of them three-year old hellraisers - had somehow managed to entrench themselves in the lobby furniture and both dads were failing to convince them to come out. Seth saw Roman's wife and not-so-little-anymore Joelle standing by the door, waiting and suppressing smiles. When Joelle spotted Seth, she started to wave, but then flipped him the bird instead and immediately got a sharp tap on the arm from her mother. Seth winked at both of them - he knew Joelle was enjoying playing along with her father's heel run way too much, but really, what could you expect from a kid that had been involved in her dad's plotlines since she was seven? Seth knew he'd probably have done the same and loved every second of it.

Finally, Roman had somehow coaxed little Jonah out of his hiding place and scooped him up on his arm. He gave Seth a warm smile and a wave before he put on his sunglasses and his best scowl, awkwardly grabbed the US-Title and went out to face the inevitable cameras.

Seth readjusted his grip on his bag and his title belt and went over to the couch where Daniel sat. He had apparently changed his strategy and now ignored his children as best as he could while still always having at least one eye on them.

"Tough morning?" Seth inquired while sitting down. Daniel sighed. "Someone taught them 'You can't see me' and now they insist they're invisible. I really need to have a word with someone..." He raised an eyebrow and Seth laughed. "Nah," Daniel continued, "it's all good. Match against Roman looks pretty strong right now. How are you and Brock doing?" "Booked massages and physio for the rest of the week, because obviously I'll be in pain," Seth said, putting a hand on the back of his neck and wincing for emphasis.

Daniel made a noise of agreement – no-one in their right mind would book him against Lesnar ever again, even though his ability to beat the odds and come back from injuries was legendary by now. There was a pause in the conversation while they both pointedly looked away from Daniel's daughter, who was trying to sneak up on them slowly.

"So..." Daniel started slowly when it became clear that little Cait would still take some time. Seth looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Just when he thought that Daniel wouldn't, he said: "Did you see Dean at all?"

Seth swallowed, and tried a smile. He knew it would end up looking pained. "Nope. I have no idea what he's been up to." And he didn't. Dean had had to leave WWE due to medical reasons two years back. One shoulder injury too much had left him with a permanent movement restriction and his career had been over. There had been enough time for a haphazard Shield reunion that proved to be a smash hit anyway. After that, many promises of staying in touch, but life had turned out differently. And it still hurt. Seth had tried, he really did. So had Roman. But Seth could see the pain in Dean's eyes when he talked about all the things that happened on the road that Dean wasn't part of anymore. So after a while, Seth did not know what to say anymore, and neither had Dean.

Messages got shorter, less frequently, and then stopped. Seth was used to pain of all sorts and like all pain, he expected this one to heal after a while, or maybe he would just get used to it.

He was still waiting for that to happen.

It actually hurt more and more when Dean started to turn up on TMZ for drunk driving, brawling - all the stupid cliché things an ex-wrestler could get himself into, he did. Seth bitterly wondered if Dean had a list of misdemeanors he was working on. When things got bad, Dean still called Roman, but even Roman's apparently endless patience started to wear thin. Still, Roman had somehow managed to get Dean invited this weekend. Dean was supposed to come to Wrestlemania, shake hands, do interviews, maybe WWE would find a place for the black sheep who still had quite a lot of fans.

Seth had tried to brace himself for the moment he would see Dean again and for two days, he had seen him everywhere - in every boy with a leather jacket, every blond man and even one blonde woman. That had been embarrassing. But he had not seen Dean yet, had not talked to him. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But at this point he wondered if he could still do it.

Daniel just nodded. He had always been surprisingly sensitive to people's moods and didn't press Seth. Instead, he winked at Seth and suddenly jumped from the couch, caught little Caitlin and lifted her up in the air. "There, what do we have here!" he laughed and placed her on one hip. "My little invisible bug! I can always see you! And you too!" With the other arm, he grabbed his son from behind an armchair and lifted him up as well. Both twins gave a high, happy giggle and snuggled up against their dad.

Seth grinned and mused at biology's sense of humor - boisterous Cait with Bryans light eyes and blonde mob and shy little Donny with his mother's dark looks and fine features. Never the best with kids himself, Seth had to admit that Bryan family was as adorable as anyone could be. Well, except maybe Roman's family.

Just in time, Brie arrived, stunning as always, and relieved Daniel of the twin duty. Brie scooped up her son and after some encouragement from Brie and Daniel, Seth got waves from the whole Bryan family before they were ushered outside to meet back up with Roman and his family in the secluded training place, far away from nosy reporters.

Seth remained seated for another moment, bracing himself, going through the day, the match, the moves in his mind. But he could not really shake the pictures of Roman's and Daniel's families. Happy. Always there for each other. Yes, his own life was going well but this... this he didn't have. Well, it was not that unusual that you were still looking at 34, was it? He did not spend many nights alone, anyway, but the older he got, the more he wondered. He had expected to fall in love again some time, with some hot girl with a sense of humor and good taste in music, preferably. He had met those girls. But he didn't fall in love. It just didn't happen the way it was supposed to happen, just like the pain about Dean's absence didn't do the reasonable thing and just ebb away. He felt his heart rate rise and tried to stomp on these thoughts.

He was assisted by one of the dozens of apparently easily replaceable people with clipboards and headsets who suddenly appeared at his side and addressed him. "Mr. Rollins? I'm afraid the reporters were getting a little out of hand. The hotel took the liberty of parking your car on the back parking lot; I'll show you the way." Seth nodded agreement, pocketed his car keys and grabbed his bag and the title belt. The assistant maneuvered them through back hallways and finally opened a door for him that led out into a small and almost empty high-walled parking lot that was bathed in sunshine.

Seth could already see his car in the distance. He knew the red convertible was a hopelessly flashy affair, but he loved it. He heard the hotel door slam shut behind him as the assistant left. He had almost reached his car when there was the sound of fast footfalls, a hand on his arm, pushing him towards the high wall, his back making contact with it. But at the same time, there was the scent. The scent that was long training sessions in FCW. T-Shirts thrown in his face in response to a stupid joke. Waking up in the same hotel bed, much closer to each other than expected. The scent of fighting against each other for the probably 100th time, but still wowing the crowd, still coming up with something new. The scent of nights never spoken about. Two years gone in a split second. Dean. Wrestling Soulmate. Brother. Stranger.

Seth felt numb with shock while approximately ten different emotions fought for his attention. Somehow, while his mind was still reeling, his mouth decided on a course of action. "Fuck, Dean, what?" he managed and finally actually calmed down to look at the man who was holding him by the shoulders. Dean looked horrible. His hair was plastered to his head as if he had just run a marathon; his eyes were red and wide with panic. "Seth." Dean's voice was deep and hoarse and another stream of memories flooded Seth's memory. Seth, get off the internet, we want to order dinner. Seth, are you okay? Seth, please, harder, yes.

He blinked to chase away the memory.

"Seth I can't explain but I need your car keys. Please. Really, I..." Dean shook his head, looked down and loosened the grip on Seth's shoulders until only his fingertips touched the belt on the one side and the fabric of Seth's hoodie on the other. But Seth had no intention of letting him go. He grabbed the lapels of Dean's leather jacket - always those leather jackets - and pulled until Dean reluctantly met his eyes again. "Dean. What. Is. Going. On. Here?" Seth asked, stressing every word. Dean's eyes filled with tears and Seth felt panic rise in his chest. "I can't..." "No. You're telling me right now." Dean's lips quivered and Seth felt the fingers on his shoulders shake. He gave Dean's jacket another firm pull.

"I, There's." Dean swallowed and then rushed into it. "There's a dead woman in my hotel room, I swear I did not hurt her, Seth, I swear, I really do, I..."

"What?!" Seth shouted over Dean's continuing rambling and found one of Dean's hands pressed on his mouth. Now there really were tears in Dean's eyes as he lowered his hand to Seth's shoulder again. "Seth, I need to get away."

"You can't be - God you are serious." Seth felt his own hands tremble now against Dean's jacket. "We'll need to call the police. Now." We. That was quick. Dean let go of Seth's shoulders and stepped back, freeing his jacket from Seth's grip. "You don't understand." he said, pulling his hair with both hands.

"They are already there. I - I called an ambulance as soon as I found her, though-" he gave a desperate laugh - "she was dead alright. Cold and wide eyed and... But I did not do that to her. I have no idea what happened." He started pacing, hands still entangled in his hair. "Well, tell them that!" Seth noticed that he was shouting again and tried to control his voice. "Don't make it worse by running away!" "You. Don't. Understand." Dean came to a halt in front of Seth. "They'd have to arrest me. I've been arrested before, I have a record. I can't go back to jail. I can't. I won't know if I'll ever get out again. Seth, they once locked me up for three days and trust me, if I have to go back, that's it. I can't do it. I swear to God I'll slit my throat at the first opportunity I get. I don't want to, Seth, but I can't handle it. Seth, please, give me the keys. Please."

Seth felt numb with horror. "So you can kill yourself with my car instead? Is that the plan? You can't believe that you can run from the police forever!" he whispered. "No!" Dean shouted. "I just need to get away until they figured out I didn't do it. But I can't wait that time out in jail. Seth! You have to..." he made a grab for Seth, but Seth sidestepped him and threw up his arms. "What on earth makes you even suspect that the police think you killed her? Who was she, anyway? This is just insane." Seth felt like he was losing his mind. He moved another step away from Dean, but Dean followed immediately, first starting to put his hands back on Seth's shoulders, but then stopping in mid-movement.

"Seth, I was with her last night and now she is dead. She has bruises all over her body; I swear they are not mine. I wasn't... I wasn't rough with her." Not rough with her. More images. His wrist held tightly over his head. Checking the shining blue bruises on his hips in the mirror the next morning and feeling... pride. His screams of lust and pain silenced by Dean's mouth, Dean protecting his head with one hand from bumping against the headboard. Not rough with her. Not rough with her.

Seth's ears started ringing as it slowly sank in just how bad this probably looked. He felt his hand slip into his jeans pocket and close around his car keys. This is it, he thought. This is how the story ends. "Why me? Why are you asking that of me," Seth whispered. He could see Dean bite his lip. "Because you are the only person in the world that maybe, just maybe, might actually do it."

Seth closed his eyes. He could feel his heart break. No way out. He opened them again and saw his arms extend, somehow, and the title belt slipped from his shoulder, but he didn't care.

His fingertips brushed Dean's palm as he put his keys there. Dean's hand closed around them. Their eyes met, both brimming with tears. "Thank you." Dean whispered. "Say I took them from you." He turned around and ran towards the car.

Seth looked after him, still stunned, subconsciously gripping the slipping title, when it softly sank in.

That's it. He's going to drive off, and if you see him again alive, that's better luck than you deserve. Who does he think he is, outrunning the police, and who do you think you are, giving him all options to crash himself into a tree instead, or get himself shot? If you call the police now, maybe they'll get him before it gets nasty. Tell them to put him on suicide watch.

But then, Seth remembered the way Dean spoke about jail and no, no matter how foolish that was, he could not do it. Could not take Dean's decision from him. Dean had reached the car and flung open the door on the driver's side. Seth could do nothing but stand still and stare.

Nothing happened. A few noises, the car bucking and... yes. Dean did not know how to drive a manual. He'd probably kill himself - and maybe others - in a road accident before the police were even close. What a brilliant plan.

Seth found that his feet moved on his own, accelerating until he ran to the red convertible. 'So that's what it's like to lose your mind,' he thought, in a slightly bemused, distant way. He opened the door and saw Dean's despair etched in his features. "Move over, Thelma." he said with much more confidence than he felt, tossing belt and bag on the back seat. "I'm driving."