My Partner is My Enemy

Story: Stuck in the middle with Shawn Michaels as both his tag team partner and his opponent at WrestleMania 23, John Cena must come to terms with how to deal with the Heartbreak Kid.

Time Period: The morning after John Cena and Shawn Michaels win the tag team titles. (So, basically, it's Tuesday, January 30, 2007)

Note: Shawn appears very heelish here. Story told from Cena's POV.

Disclaimer: Although I'd love to say otherwise, I do not own John Cena, Shawn Michaels, or any other person(s) mentioned because let's face it, if I at least owned the Heartbreak Kid, I'd be too rich to spend my free time writing fics. LOL!

I don't know what to make of him. He hasn't been himself lately. Ever since his best friend got injured at New Year's Revolution, Shawn Michaels has been a man possessed. He's totally disconnected himself from the rest of the locker room. He's not the man who two years ago welcomed me to the Raw roster. He's not the man who, along with Hulk Hogan, helped me defeat Chris Jericho, Christian, and Tyson Tomko. We're supposed to be tag team partners - Tag Team Champions - but look at us. We're not even close. We're not buddy-buddy. I can't fill that gap that his fellow degenerate left behind. Shawn said it himself: I'm no Triple H. It's true. I'm not. I can't make Shawn laugh. I can't convince him to spraypaint buildings and dash through the Women's locker room. Triple H is the only guy who can do those things with him. They're like brothers. No matter what happens, they've got each other's backs. If one falls down, the other will be right there to pick him up. I remember when Rated-RKO attacked Shawn in the middle of the ring. I remember seeing Triple H attempt to get his sledgehammer only to get a Conchairto for his troubles. He took the bullet for Shawn that night and there is no doubt in my mind that Shawn wouldn't hesistate at all to do the same to protect his buddy. That's how they operated. They went down together and they reached their highs together. Thinking about it now, I guess that's why Shawn's the way he is now. His friend is laying in a hospital bed and he feels that the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

I open my eyes and am greeted with the buzz of my alarm clock. It's too bad I was already up to begin with. I turn my alarm clcok and wipe my face with my hand. It's no surprise that I woke up with Shawn on my mind. Just last night, we won the tag team titles. We knocked Edge and Randy Orton off their rocker. It wasn't what one could call a fairytale ending, though. While I stood celebrating our victory, Shawn was behind me, setting me up for one of his superkicks. That set a serious rift between us. If I hadn't turned around like I did, I wouldn't be resting comfortably in this bed. I guess the WWE title means more to him than the tag titles. I'm not sure what to make of him. The only thing I am sure of is that I need to take a hot shower, grab a bite to eat, and enjoy a hot cup of coffee before I leave out of this hotel.

I walk out of my hotel room and slip the card in my shirt pocket. I won't have to worry about checking out until this time tomorrow morning. I walk down the hall, step inside the elevator, push a button, place my gym bag on the floor, and wait as I descend towards the lobby. I'm out an hour earlier than I usually am so I can get an early start on my day. I figure all the other guys are still managing to get whatever amount of rest they can get. I look at my reflection on the elevator doors and can't help but notice that I look anything but professional. I'm wearing one of my many cut off jeans, a white t-shirt, and a light checkered jacket similar to the one I wore on my first MadTV appearance. Yep, I'm right. There is nothing professional about my look. Why should I care? It's not like I work for the Secret Service or anything.

"Secret Service Agent John Cena," I chuckle to myself. "Yeah right."

The doors open on the fourth floor and I find myself face to face with him. His eyes scan me from head to toe and he's got this look on his face that says "anyone BUT you". He stands still for a few moments as if to comtemplate whether or not to board the elevator or take the stairs. He steps into the elevator and the door closes.

As he stands watching the numbers decrease, I toggle the idea of speaking to him or staying to myself. I try to be friendly. I clear my throat and open my mouth to speak. While doing so, I audibly take in some air.

"Whatever you're going to say - take it and shove it!" he says without even looking at me.

I shouldn't have said a word. Then again, I didn't! He stopped me before I even had the chance to speak! So much for being friendly...

The elevator doors open and we're finally on the lobby. Shawn steps out first and heads for the coffee machine. I'm headed the same way. He fills his cup and takes a quick sip to taste test it, I guess. He turns around and once he sees me, he gives me a death glare and takes a seat on one of the plush couches in the middle of the room. He makes sure to sit with his back towards me as well. I'm getting the feeling that he really doesn't like me.

I fill my cup and turn around to look at Shawn. Like me, he doesn't look any different than he does when we're on Raw. He's wearing light blue jeans, his back DX shirt with his cross and Triple H's skull logos meshed together, and his black belt with the "Texas" belt buckle that he usually wears during street fights. He's got most of his hair in a ponytail with the rest of it resting on his shoulders. I take a few sips of my coffee and forget the fact that I wanted to get something to eat earlier. I walk towards where Shawn's sitting and analyze him for a moment. He's staring at the floor with an angry look on his face.

I do the unthinkable. Instead of leaving him alone, I sit next to him on the adjoining chair. I hope that we can somehow reach an understanding. He looks at me with pure repulsion in his eyes. I sit forward.

"What the heck do you want?" he said.

"All I want to do is talk." I reply.

"About what? The weather?" He turned his attention back to the floor and then back at me. "Go outside and see for yourself. It's partly cloudy with a chance of kiss my--"

"Shawn, why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like such a jerk. You've been acting pretty strange lately."

"Who died and proclaimed you talk show host? Last I checked, Dr. Phil's still around so stop trying to do his job and do your own."

"My job is to be your tag team partner, Shawn. How are we going to co-exist if you don't work with me?"

"Maybe that's the whole point."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, I don't want to be your tag team partner. I said it once and I'll say it again: You're no Triple H. If he hadn't gotten injured, he would be my tag team partner, not you. We would've put away Edge and Orton for good that night."

"Shawn, you're acting like it's my fault that Triple H is in the position that he's in. It's sad that it happened, but you've got to move forward. We need to be on the same page with these belts. Your concern--"

"My concern should be on that WWE Title of yours, not the tag titles."

I sat back and took a deep breath. I sat looking away from him and thought over everything we just said. Has he forgetten what the words "team player" mean? How come I never see the red target on my chest like everyone else does?

I reach into my gym bag and pull out my WWE Title. I look at it and then look at the older man next to me.

"This Shawn? Is this all you're worried about?"

He sat there for a minute staring at the spinner belt without saying a word. He quickly locked eyes with me.

"It's the only reason we became tag champs in the first place. Vince wanted to capitalize on the situation. Don't act like you don't know."

Crap. He's right. There's no point in denying it. Everyone knows how Vince is. He'll do anything for television. iAnything/i. Shawn took a sip from his cup and continued.

"Why are you trying to play peacemaker? You already know that I don't like you," he said without batting an eye. He said it as if we were in the middle of an everyday conversation, but I could still notice the venom in his voice. "That, Cena, isn't going the change any time soon so get used to it."

He took another sip of his coffee while I wondered what possessed me to talk to this man in the first place. I decided to pursue the situation further.

"Triple H. Why are you guys even friends now? It wasn't that long ago that the two of you were killing each other every night. What's changed?"

Shawn sighed as if he'd been asked that same question many times before. Who knows? Maybe he has. "See? That's part of the reason I hate you. People like you just don't understand the kind of friendship me and Hunter have. We had to settle our differences. It's called sibling rivalry."

"Sibling rivalry? You compare your 'differences' with a man who tried to break your back with a sledgehammer with sibling rivalry? How is that even possible? And people normally use that term with someone they're related to. What gives?"

Shawn sighed even deeper than he did the first time. "Don't play stupid with me. Haven't you ever heard the term 'brotha from anotha mutha'?" He rolled his eyes. "As much as you listen to rap music and you still didn't catch my flow. Aw snap..." he said, mocking me with his best ghetto accent.

"But as much as you guys hated each other during that time, how can the both of you look at each other and call yourselves friends? I haven't done anything drastic to you and you haven't so much as smiled and been a friend. What does Triple H have that I don't?"

"My trust. You're right. Hunter and I weren't the best of friends during that time, but through it all, we still had respect for each other. He knew that I'm a changed person. He knew that the things I used to do I don't do anymore. I knew that he doesn't allow anyone to come in between him and his goals. I knew that he isn't the type to suck up to anybody. He works hard for what he wants and that's why he's so successful. Our friendship began with D-Generation X and our hatred began with D-Generation X. It was our history. It was our story. It was what defined us. And it was D-Generation X that brought us back together and taught us a very important lesson: We misunderstood one another. We took each other for granted. We thought about each other as two seperate people with nothing in common but the company we work for. We forgot that we had similar struggles, similar achievements. Darn it, we could relate to each other in almost every aspect. The fact that Vince targeted us at the same time period proved that. Since then, we got back on the same page and forgave each other. It took some time, but it happened. Now are you done, James Lipton? I'd like to leave the 'Actors Studio' and continue living my life without commercial interruption if that's okay with you."

"You can go. I won't hold you up any longer."

"Good, because I was going to leave anyway, regardless of how you feel."

And with that, he grabs his gym bag and his cup of coffee and walks away.

As I watch him leave the hotel, I reach a startling conclusion: Shawn feels like I'm intruding on the fun he and Hunter could've had. It's not the same thing being tag champion with me. Shawn and I don't have a history together. We've crossed paths from time to time, but never with so much at stake. Triple H and Shawn beat the crap out of each other for years, but somehow it was necessary for them. It was like therapy for them. It allowed them to realize just how much they need eachother. It allowed them to realize just how vital their friendship is. But it's something that only they can completely and truly understand. To Shawn, I'm just another man on the Raw roster. He's right. I'm no Triple H. I realize that now more than ever.

A/N: Long story short, for those who may not know, James Lipton is the host of a show called "Inside the Actors Studio". He asks various celebrity guests questions about their career and personal lives and that's what Shawn's referring to when he says "Now are you done, James Lipton? I'd like to leave the 'Actors Studio'...without commercial interruption if that's okay with you."

On a smaller note, I deliberately had Cena call The Game "Triple H" and Shawn call him "Hunter". I figure that since Shawn and Hunter are friends, he should call him by his first name. After all, Cena's the odd man in all of this. Makes you feel sorry for the man...

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