Becky found herself in a similar position, barely a month later. She sat in a vacant hallway in whatever arena they were in this week, holding her legs close to her chest. She could still feel the boot print in her back from where Charlotte had kicked her after her victory over the champion.
The last couple of weeks had been hell. She had blatantly ignored the warning signs of Charlotte's change in attitude. She always let her disapproval of her new tactics be known and Charlotte had apologized every time. Becky could say it wasn't her fault, because she was within the situation and didn't have anyone warn her, but that'd be a lie. Paige, in her own mean way, had tried to tell her how Charlotte was changing, but Becky had chalked that up to Paige's own bout selfishness. But Paige wasn't the only one to point it out.
Her and Dean Ambrose had gotten somewhat closer. Charlotte had to do television appearances and strategy sessions with her father that Becky was never invited to. So Becky had started going to catering in her free time, and Dean would usually be there. He'd smirk at her, and if she chose to sit down by him would engage her in conversation. He would never seek her out, however. They'd talk of their indy days and the craziest matches they'd been in, Dean would always win on that front, and every time, as she was going to leave to go back and find Charlotte before the start of the show, the last thing he'd say was always, "Watch your back with that one, Irish."
She would always scoff and glare at him. He knows she didn't like him talking about her friend like that, but he'd turn back around and would never bring it up again until the end of their talk the next day where he'd say the exact same thing. She sniffled, fighting with her eyes not to let a single tear slip through. She should have seen this coming.
"You know, these floors are probably filthy." The gruff voice that she had come to know by heart spoke. She clenched her jaw, hoping he couldn't see how much this was affecting her. She tried to put on an air of nonchalance, like he did so very well.
"Dean, we both know you aren't the poster boy for cleanliness."
He gave her a smirk from his standing position right above her, "True enough." He moved to her right side and slid down the wall to sit with her. Guess he was staying awhile.
"Don't you have better things to do?" She almost snapped at him. She knew he didn't deserve it, but she was just waiting for the 'I told you so.'
He scoffed, "Not really. Though if there was, I'd still be here."
She gazed at him searchingly, but he just moved some of his bangs out of his eyes and leaned back against the wall. "Nice win tonight. It was… Bexcellent." He said this with as much distaste as he could manage, but it still ended up sounding endearing.
A smile tugged at her lips at his use of her favorite pun that went with her name. Dean had quickly learned, as they'd hung out over the past month, how much Becky loved puns. He would groan dramatically every time, but never asked her to stop. "Yeah, at least there's that." The weight of what happened after the match hit her again and she sighed, tears starting to prickle in her eyes.
That's when she heard him move and felt his arm drape over her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. She went with it and leaned her cheek against the cool leather of his favorite, and only, jacket. She felt how rigid he was and peered up at him through her fiery hair. He looked down through his bangs and shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
She let a grin tug at her lips; she knew what would make him feel more comfortable. "Mean Dean Ambrose, the Lunatic Fringe, comforting a person in a lonely hallway. I can't wait to tell everyone in the back about this."
Dean seemed to relax a bit as she diffused his tension with their verbal quips. She knew he was iffy about physical contact with people, something she noticed after one or two lunches with him. She knew he would be more comfortable if she joked about it rather than taking the emotional route. "Yeah, you can tell everyone you want."
She frowned and looked back up at him, surprised, "I can?"
He gave her the evilest smirk she had ever seen on him, "No one would ever believe you."
Her eyes widened at the realization before they narrowed at him, "You bastard." She put her head back down as she listened to him chuckle. It making a pleasant rumbling in his chest that her head felt the vibrations of. She let a small smile grace her face, as she grew comfortable with her new position.
They stayed this way for what seemed like an hour, before she pushed off of him. His arm came off, the second she began to move away. She missed the comforting embrace, but she felt better than she had minutes before. They just sat by one another for a moment in silence before she spoke.
Paige, now Charlotte… does it get any easier?" She couldn't bear to look at him when she was opening herself up this much. He didn't seem inclined to make her, which was good.
"No. You'll have sleepless nights where all you can do is ask the question: why? You'll blame yourself, you'll blame Ric, you'll blame the company itself, you are gonna think this is karma for shit you did in the past, but in the end it'll still be her choice and her fault." Becky winced at his biting tone, oddly touched that he seemed to mad on her behalf, but still trying to make the transition to anger at her former teammate and friend. She had already gone down one of those roads tonight. She thought maybe all the betrayals were some way of the universe punishing her from when she had turned on Bayley back in NXT.
"So, what is the answer?" She asked, hoping that he had figured something out that would help her.
"There is no permanent one." Her face dropped into her knees with a sigh. She felt him take a breath in, "But revenge ain't too bad of a consolation prize." She looked at him; confusion must have been showing on her face, as he looked up towards the ceiling of the deserted hallway. "Royal Rumble is coming up, she doesn't have an opponent as far as I know."
It dawned on Becky what he was saying and she felt fire start to seep back into her belly as she thought of what she could do. He must have seen the look on her face because he smiled. "Haunt her. Kick her ass, take her title, then burn the fucking bridge you used to get there."
"You think I could do it?" She asked, her voice beginning to have hope behind it again.
"Without a doubt." He said without missing a beat. "You are a much better wrestler than her, in my not so humble opinion. Show her the error of her ways the old fashioned way. With a kick to the teeth and a dislocated arm." He gave her a cheeky grin, obviously thinking of her finishing move.
She smiled back at him, "You know what this means, right Ambrose?" His face scrunched into a confused look so she continued, "We're friends now." He rolled his eyes overdramatically as he fought off a smile.
He stood up and brushed himself off, taking his time to answer her, "Yeah, maybe we are."
She beamed up at him, standing herself. He reached forward and ruffled her hair, as she tried to swat his hand away. It was something that he had done since they'd been hanging out in catering together. He smiled at her again before turning around and walking towards one end of the hallway, his hands tucked into his jean's pockets.
"Dean," Becky called after him using his first name. He turned around and looked at her, "Thanks for not saying I told you so."
He shrugged, "That's not what a friend does." He tried to turn back around, but she took a few big steps forward and hugged him from behind, her arms linking around his stomach. She felt him tense up for a second at her touch. As he'd always been the one to initiate contact between them, this was uncharted territory.
"You aren't a consolation prize either. Just so you know." She quickly let go of him and scampered down the hallway, feeling his eyes on her back the entire time.