Better Off

"So, you're really leaving?"

That thick Irish accent soothed a part of Dean's soul that he nearly forgot existed. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "What's it to ya?"

Years of dragging himself around the arenas, forcing himself onto the radar of the elites, and returning to his home in Las Vegas with bruises and little to show for his efforts, all caused Dean's wrestling spark to die out. The business he once loved never reciprocated the feeling. No wonder he grew tired.

Becky, biting her lips to refrain from saying too much, nodded. "There's absolutely nothing anybody can do to change your mind?"

"I've heard it all already."

"We could share my belts," she offered.

Dean chuckled at the thought. Finally turning around, he laid eyes on the newly-crowned champion. "Hell of a match you had out there. Brought back that feeling."

"That feeling doesn't have to be gone, you know. People all around the world get that feeling when they see you in the ring. You can't take that away from them."

"Don't make this into something it isn't, Becks. I'm tired." Dean shook his head and sat on the metal chair behind him. He didn't have a match that night, but it was WrestleMania. He had to show up, if not for himself, for his co-workers who he respected way too much. "I love wrestling. This company just doesn't seem to respect that."

With a quick scratch to her head, Becky slowly began inching towards the man ahead of her. She had known Dean since she started working for the WWE and, despite his reluctance to socialize with more than a few people here and there, they had grown quite close over the years. He even showed her the confidence it would take for her to run with "The Man" gimmick that had been doing her extremely well.

Without Dean, Becky might not have even been in the main event of WrestleMania.

"What do you see yourself doing now that you're hanging up the boots, huh?"

"Who knows," he muttered. "Maybe I'll start fixing cars or something."

"With a personality like that? You ought to capitalize. At least start working birthday parties or something."

They both shared a light-hearted laugh with that one, letting it die slowly. Something about this felt off to Becky. In the years that she had worked alongside Dean, she had always seen that drive within him. That drive that she felt deep within. Thinking that it was possible for such a drive to simply wear away was nerve-wracking. Would she soon follow?

Finding an open spot on a technical crate, Becky hopped up to rest her own legs. She could already feel bruises forming from each blow she took at the hands of both Ronda and Charlotte. "Does it not feel strange to you? Knowing that tomorrow is it?"

"What about it should feel strange?"

"I don't know," she retorted. "I don't see how you can just not feel weird about making a final entrance. You and I both have been doing this sort of stuff for years. I don't know how I would manage just not doing it anymore."

"It isn't that complicated," Dean explained.

"How is it simple?"

"I'm simply done." Shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head, Dean sighed. "They see what they want for the future of their company and I'm not a part of that. Ever since I went solo they have toyed around with me, using me to fill gaps that we all knew wouldn't look right. I'm done being that kind of employee for them. I don't want to be just an employee. I want to be a wrestler."

Becky nodded. "I was in the same boat, don't you remember? I was hours away from being terminated. I had to fight for my chance to even prove that I was worth that chance."

"And it worked out for you," he complimented.

"It could work for you too."

"We," he began as he stood back up, "are not the same."

Becky joined him by popping back up to her feet. "That doesn't mean it wouldn't work."

"It wouldn't." A faint smile crept its way onto the man's face as he reached out, placing his hand on Becky's shoulder. "You've got a good thing going here. I don't. So, I'm taking my bags and I'm going home."

"To do what?"

Dean shook his head. "I guess to do whatever the hell I want to do. I'm a free man, Becks. I've got the world at my fingertips. Hell, I might even start golfing."

"You'd be a pitiful sight on a course."

"At least you'd be watching."

Becky rolled her eyes and looked down at the hand that was still on her shoulder. Grabbing it with her own hands, she brought it towards her cheek and gently rested her head upon it. "You'll be missed, Ambrose."

With a sweeter smile forming, Dean looked at her. "Mostly by you, I would hope."

There were no further words spoken. Dean leaned in, pressed his lips to her rosy cheeks, and then grabbed his bags to leave. Becky returned to her locker room where she threw her championship belts over her shoulders and left with her heart in a puddle of confusion.

On the outside of the arena, back in the parking lot, Dean tossed his bags into the rental car he shared with a few other wrestlers. Turning around one last time, he looked up at the arena where large signs remained lit for the entire town to see. His heart warmed at the sight of Becky's proud face, exuding the confidence she carried around everywhere she went.

"You'll be alright, Becks," he whispered. "You'll be just fine."

Author's Note: What's this? I posted something? After about two years of not posting? What can I say, inspiration is a tricky thing.

I'm not sure how frequent I will be on this site. I would love to return to some of my old stories, but I have been quite out of the wrestling loop for a while now, so it almost wouldn't feel right to just jump back in where I left off. Perhaps some new stories will emerge once I get settled into my new living space and I have some more free-time. Again, I make no promises.

Thank you to everyone who remained patient with me! I hope that this short little one-shot was worth something.