A/N: Thank you for all the favorites! I meant to write the first chapter last night, but I guess I wanted to see how the prologue went over, first. Here's chapter one.


Stepping out of the bright yellow taxicab, Chelsea tilted her face towards the arena. She noted how many people were already bustling around, even though the show wouldn't start for nearly eight more hours. She squinted through her white cheap-o plastic sunglasses, trying to spot anyone that she recognized.

Already, the city center intimidated her. She willed her heart rate to slow down a little bit and began walking forward, pulling her luggage bag along. She was nervous to meet again with Stephanie McMahon. They'd spoken on the phone, and that went well. Stephanie was happy to hear Chelsea had completed her classes with flying colors, and told her she'd fly her across the country to the show in Tampa Bay that evening.

"Well, look who we have here!" Chelsea whipped around, nearly knocking herself off-balance. Nikki Bella grinned at her, perfect white teeth gleaming. Chelsea was glad she still had her sunglasses on; to face those teeth, she'd need them. Nikki gave her a quick, awkward side-hug, still smiling. She wore athletic shorts and a John Cena "Hustle, Loyalty, Respect" t-shirt.

What the fuck? The Nikki Bella that Chelsea remembered didn't get herself twisted with wrestlers. And, if she remembered correctly, the diva had rolled her eyes at John Cena in the past...what the hell? The twin's new found love for arrogant John Cena was new. So were the giant tits.

"Nice, Nik. Your boobs grew a few sizes."

Nikki puffed out her chest. "Thanks! I love them. You look a hundred times better than when I saw you last." She nodded towards the water bottle in Chelsea's other hand. "That better really be water and not vodka," she said, a concerned look crossing her face.

"It's definitely water. Trust me, you'd know if it wasn't." Chelsea couldn't help but feel embarrassed by her old friend's comment. Everyone knew she had a problem last year, but nobody really called her out on it. In fact, most of her old friends pretended that they didn't know a thing, even though soon enough, it was common knowledge.

The pair began walking towards the entrance, and Nikki chattered about her relationship with John, some new show they were doing, and her run for the championship belt.

"Well, if it isn't Wednesday Addams herself!" another voice said, causing the women to turn. Both had huge grins now. Brie came bounding towards them, her hair in braids and wearing a long, flowy skirt and revealing white tank top. She looked beautiful.

"Brie," responded Chelsea, giving her other friend a hug. She couldn't help but chuckle at her old nickname. When she'd first started, the beautiful blonde bombshell Maryse began calling her Wednesday, a reference to the Addams family, as a personal shot to her somewhat Gothic appearance. Maryse was her pro during NXT, and although at the time, the women could not stand each other, they ended up very respectable towards one another. They were definitely not the best of friends; in fact, they were polar opposites. But when it came to in the ring, they both left their feelings in the locker room. Last she knew, Maryse was awaiting the arrival of her first born baby.

"You look great," Brie said, pulling Chelsea's still dyed black hair. Now, it had teal dye at the bottom, giving it a weird ombre effect.

"A little less Addams family, a little more Malibu Barbie," Nikki commented, comparing her tan to Chelsea's. Chelsea snorted, grabbing her arm away. She did finally catch a little color during her stay at Straight Forward, which was in sunny California.

"You and I both know that that's a long shot," Chelsea said, shaking her head.

"But for real, Chels, you look good," Brie said again. Chelsea thanked her friends. She had put on about twenty pounds of toned muscle, which was a huge upgrade from the bag of bones she was when she'd started rehab. In fact, at her initial weigh-in, she'd only clocked in at 103 pounds. Her once brittle hair now had a keen shine to it, which (almost) made it look natural. Her skin was radiant, no longer full of pock-marks and blackheads. Her bright blue eyes had color again, the life they used to have in them dancing wildly. Chelsea no longer had the walking dead girl appearance that made her both famous and infamous. She really started to take care of herself, a trait she'd picked up from her roommate in rehab. Straight Forward housed tons of upper class people, including politicians, celebrities, and even lawyers. Chelsea found herself sharing a beautiful ocean view room with a young, talented musician that went by the name of Lennon. They got along immediately; and although Lennon wasn't a big hit on the music scene yet, she knew her stuff. She knew the ropes through the industry. Specifically, she knew that the better you looked, the further you went.

It wasn't purely superficial, of course; but Chelsea learned quickly that it had its upper hand. She began to work hard on herself, both the inside and outside. She never wanted to be like Maryse except for in-ring; she just wanted to be herself. But she also knew a cokehead hot mess like herself wasn't going to gain the support she needed to go forward. Lennon agreed, showing her the right way to contour and highlight her cheekbones, and even holding her feet down while she did hundreds of sit-ups a day.

"So, where's Nat?" Chelsea found herself asking about her oldest friend at the WWE, the woman who had trained hard with her in the ring prior to WWE. Sometime during all the conversation, they had made their way to the arena, where a hundred people frantically tried to set up the ring, pyro, and cameras.

She'd heard that Natalie had finally gotten married to TJ, which was great. She was slightly saddened that she didn't get an invite to the wedding; though she supposed that she wouldn't have been allowed to go under the strict supervision of the rehabilitation center.

The Bella twins glanced sideways at each other, and Nikki sucked in a breath.

"She's around here, somewhere," she started. "But Chels, she might need a little more time…"

Brie nodded, confirming her sister's words. "She's not too happy about how things between you two went down…"

"No, she isn't." Natalie Niedhart interrupted, then joined the trio, looking amazing as always. But she had a dark scowl, leering at Chelsea as she sized her up.

"Ladies, we're supposed to be doing a promo with Eva Marie in ten minutes. Let me handle this," Natalie clearly dismissed the twins, who waved to Chelsea and left in a flash.

"Nattie, I wanted to say that I'm so—"

"Save it. You're not sorry! Not only did you almost kill yourself and ruin your life, you made the entire Hart foundation look bad! We trained you, we supported you, and I loved you like you were my sister!" Natalie's face was now stained with red, her tone beyond pissed. If she had claws, they'd be out now, getting ready to dig into Chelsea's face.

"But I am sorry," Chelsea said quietly. "This meant everything to me."

Natalie guffawed. "Did it? Or did getting high with that loser Jeff mean more? Because personally, I think it's the latter."

Chelsea felt a pang of sorrow at the mention of Jeff's name. She'd done so well trying to erase that part of her life, she thought she'd be better prepared for just the mere mention of him than she actually was. Natalie must've noticed the pain in Chelsea's eyes, because she laughed a truly bitchy laugh, shaking her head.

"You haven't changed at all," she said, stalking away from her former friend. "If I were you, I would stay far away."

Chelsea watched Natalie leave up the ramp, who never even glanced back. She felt terrible. She didn't exactly understand the diva's motivation for her direct hate. Sure, they had grown close, and they'd grown apart at the hands of Jeff Hardy and his magic white powder. But she didn't understand why that meant they couldn't patch things up.

"Ooh, you're in trouble now," a petite, dark-haired girl was seated in the front row of the arena, not looking up from her cell phone. She had the Divas championship belt on the chair next to her. Her feet were up on the banister: a pair of scuffed Converse.

Acknowledging the woman, Chelsea walked towards her and sunk down in the seat next to the belt.

"I guess I just don't know what everyone expects," she admitted, feeling strange that she was confiding in this person, even though they didn't know each other.

"Honestly? She's changed so much since that stupid show," the smaller woman looked up, eyes connecting with Chelsea's. She was pretty; very simple makeup behind dark glasses, with dark hair and soulful eyes. She couldn't help but take note of the glimmering engagement ring on her left hand.

"You're Chelsea," she smiled, extending a hand. "I've heard about you here and there. Not all good," she said pointedly.

As if Chelsea really needed to hear that.

"That's fantastic," Chelsea said, shaking her head. "I'm fucking trying. This company was my life!" she started to feel her blood boil, then put her feet up on the banister, too. She was beyond frustrated.

"Do or do not. There is no try," the other woman commented. "That's a direct quote from Yoda."

"Star Wars," laughed Chelsea. She felt a little better, having met this nerdy girl.

"We'll get along just fine. As for the Total Divas, I'd watch yourself. They think they have it all made. They kiss a lot of ass, get a lot of things handed to them—including matches. Some of us actually have to work for what we have," she tapped the championship belt next to her.

Chelsea nodded. She knew that the McMahons played favorites often; she supposed in a sense, she was even granted that immunity. After all, under Stephanie's rule, she was able to be here today. Jeff hadn't been so lucky.

"What in the world is Total Divas?" she asked.

"A ridiculous show following some of the girls. Just like Jersey Shore or the Surreal Life. I don't get it. I already put myself out there for the world to see. Why would I want them to see the deepest parts of my life? My fans should like me for my wrestling, not who I'm dating...ahem, Nikki...Some of us like privacy."

Chelsea couldn't believe her ears. The WWE had seriously enlisted divas in some damn reality TV show? She wondered if that was why Nikki was proudly wearing her John Cena shirt, in order to promote him. He needed all the support he could get, she remembered. His career was falling apart, and he was crashing from the top after a pretty gnarly injury. But this chick had had insinuated that Nikki wasn't only Cena's personal cheerleader...

"Yes, the Bellas are on it, too, special guest appearances by their wonderful boyfriends," the woman read Chelsea's mind.

"John Cena and Nikki?" she asked, trying to hide the disgust in her voice. "Isn't he married?"

Tossing her head back, her confidante laughed. "He was. I don't get it, either. Before the show, I didn't have any issues with the Bellas. Or Natalie, for that matter. But when I declined the invitation to join the show, they all had their sights set on destroying my career. I told them how I felt. I figured Cena was using the show to gain some hype. I always thought John Cena was a bit of a douchebag." she shrugged at the last comment.

He was, Chelsea thought to herself. He probably still is.

"Oh, where are my manners. My name is April, but you can call me AJ."

"AJ," repeated Chelsea, 'Divas champion."

"Longest reigning, even beating your pro's record," she declared.

Chelsea raised an eyebrow. This AJ bitch really knew her wrestling.

"I was the NXT season right after you," she explained. "I watched everything and anything."

"So you know more about me than I want you to know," Chelsea sighed.

"Don't be down on yourself. Seriously, it isn't fair to judge someone based on what they used to do, or who they used to be friends with. For what it's worth, Jeff Hardy was an amazing wrestler."

Pain. AJ seemed to be immune to the hurt in Chelsea's eyes. Or maybe she ignored it. She was so glad to have met AJ, who really seemed like her head was screwed on the right way. The other girls, on the other hand...

"I like your tattoo," AJ turned Chelsea's wrist to show a red and white medical logo, the very same that appeared on Eminem's album, Recovery. That whole album was something that Chelsea looked up to. She'd gotten the tattoo to remind herself that even the best, like Eminem, can pull themselves up from the darkness and be the greatest at what they do.

"Thank you," she responded, not ready to explain it.

AJ gave her a warm smile, then her eyes quickly averted upwards. She rose to her feet, hand extended.

"Stephanie, glad to see you," the Divas champion shook her boss's hand. Chelsea rose to her feet, too, a phony smile plastered across her own face. Stephanie looked great as usual, her business suit crisp and her hair styled perfectly. Her lips were pursed; and she was a spitting image of her mother, Linda. It was hard not to feel intimidated by this woman.

"Stephanie," she said in a breath, her heart pounding again.

"Chelsea, glad you could make it. We need to chat."


A/N: Oh, man. Things sure do change in a year.