*Trigger WARNING* This book deals with a soldier who has been to war and seen and done some shit. Although artistic license has been taken, most of this shit is real. In fact, all of it is, but it has been gleaned from different people and put into one. Please, if you have PTSD or deal with issues around war and gore, proceed carefully or maybe give this one a skip.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, no one in the WWE, no real or stage names. I write this purely as a form of bizarre therapy from my own time over there. I do own my own character Alicia Price. This book contains swearing (lots) and eventual smut, but no slash. It's a slow burn guys, so bear with me. This book is not cannon, and takes place vaguely when the Shield boys were together in the Shield pre-break up. The book focuses on Jon Good/Jon Moxley/Dean Ambrose/OC, but there are cameos everywhere later. I use their real names in here because I think would like to know the real person if I ever met them. I realize Renee is real and I love her and Jon, but, sorry, for this story she's just in the background. Anyway, enjoy!

The idea of this book came from the song Broken by Lovelytheband

I like that you're broken
Broken like me
Maybe that makes me a fool
I like that you're lonely
Lonely like me
I could be lonely with you

There's something tragic, but almost pure
Think I could love you, but I'm not sure
There's something wholesome, there's something sweet
Tucked in your eyes that I'd love to meet

Chapter 2

The plane landed without incident. First class passengers were first off and you were very grateful for that. You grabbed your bag from the overhead. No military shit anymore, you had gotten a black duffle bag for this flight. You were so tired of camouflaged shit. You didn't look twice, just grabbed your bag and headed off the plane. The past was in the past and this, this was you walking to your future.

As you meandered toward the baggage claim to get the only other bag you had to your name, you looked around the airport. There were no signs of welcome home. There was no cheering crowd. That was not unexpected, just different. You were used to your family being there to welcome you home at every turn. They were so proud of you. You don't really understand why, you were really nothing important. Just you. And frankly, you didn't even know who you really were anymore.

The walk to baggage claim was slow but you could make it under your own two feet. The ache in your hip slowly loosening. When you arrived, you noticed the blond man again. He seemed to be speaking to someone quite animatedly on his phone. Not wanting to appear too intrusive, but obviously curious, you crept a little closer to hear some of the conversation.

"I know, I know." He grumbled into the phone. "just shut up one…" he listened to the other voice a minute, "It's not my fucking fault! First I didn't grab the fuckin' bag on purpose. Jeez, Joe, fine. Yep, as soon as I can. I got a car. No, I'm fine. No, nothing was in it. Yes, mom… ok ok, fine. See you there." He hung up the phone and plopped down in the chairs next to the baggage claim. His hand came up to his eyes as he slowly ran it down his face. Man, you thought you looked like shit. Well, you probably did.

"Um," you said as you sat down near him, "I couldn't help overhear your conversation. I know I might be intruding, but are you ok?"

"You're from the plane, the hero?" You grimaced at that. "Sorry, I'm jus' havin' a day, ya know? My bag got taken off the plane and now I have to wait to deal with this shit storm while I'm suppos' to be drivin' to the next show."

You looked at him curiously, wondering if he is going to keep talking. When he doesn't, you ask "well, what does it look like? Maybe I saw what happened since we were sitting together."

"'S a black duffle. Kinda new, jus' got it 'cus my other one broke. Didn't label it right. Just fuckin' brilliant, Good, just fuckin' brilliant." He was starting to mumble to himself. His knees wouldn't stop. His fingers constantly tapping them. You placed your bag on the ground next to him and he glanced over at you again.

"Sorry, I wish I could help." You motion to your bag at your feet. "I just got this one too, it's a little different than my usual fare, but it works ok." You laugh a little ruefully.

He glances down and a grin splits his face. Holy shit that smile. It should be illegal. Those dimples. A whole new meaning to weapons of mass destruction. "Um," you start, "is everything ok?"

"Ya know, I think it is now, yeah. Uh, that bran spankin' new bag ya got there, that's mine." He was chortling for real now. Almost a little child's giggle. Your face was turning three shades of deep red. Oh fuck, what did you do? You've been on so many flights with so many people with the same damn luggage as you. You were always careful. You always check and double check. Mistakes mean lives, you knew that.

"Oh my god I am so so so sorry. I usually, fuck, well, shit, um, here. Here's your bag. I guess I should start looking for mine and you can start on your way. I'm so fucking sorry. Believe me, I can't..."

He shut you off with a wave of his hand. "Seriously, shit happens. 's kind of shit happens all the time. Don't even worry about it. At least you didn't steal it on purpose like some rabid fan or somethin'."

"Fan? Oh, uh, yeah, of course, you're famous." Shit fuck damn, of course you would do this. Who was he? Some sports star? A movie star? You hadn't seen a non-pirated movie in years, and even then they were so hazy that you didn't get really into them. "Um, sorry, been kinda somewhere else for a while and don't know much about what goes on here anymore. So, yeah, here's your bag. Sorry again. Have a great trip." You got up to leave and go to customer service in hopes of finding your luggage. Hopefully it wouldn't take too much time out of your adventure, but then why not start an adventure with another adventure.

He reached out to grab your hand, you immediately pulled back in a defensive posture which made him withdraw his grasp. "Sorry," he said with both hands up in the air "Jus' figured you'd like to know where I put your bag when I thought it was mine."

You nodded slowly, allowing him to lead you to the room where bags were turned in. He pointed out the bag and the customer service lady he spoke to. Within minutes you both had your bags and were headed back out to the baggage claim again. He ambled over to the chairs again, motioning to you to sit next to him.

"I'm Jon, by the way." He said to you when you sat.

"Price, nice to meet you." You mumbled, hating that you had caused the whole ordeal.

"Price? 'S that a family name? Seems a little odd, but 'k Price. Nice to meet you."

You dropped your head into your hands and mumbled "Alicia, not Price. Price is my last name, just been so long since I used my first name. I forget sometimes that not everyone goes by their last names. It gets a little odd for those non-military."

"'S'ok, I've gone by too many names t' count." He chuckles.

His laugh brings your head up. You must have had a curious look on your face because he started to laugh in earnest. It was probably the best sound you had heard in the past four years.

"You really have no idea who I am, do ya? 'S kinda nice, really. Um, I'm a wrestler. I've gone by so many names, current one is Dean Ambrose though. Real name's Jon Good tho'. Nice ta meet 'cha." He held out his hand and you shook it. It was kind of nice to feel another person, even if only for a second. You felt a little empty as he removed his hand from your grip.

"Nice to meet you too. Like I said, been away for a while and I've not really had much interaction with anything entertainment-wise from the United States." You started to pick at your new jeans. Jeans that were purchased with holes in them. Oh boy, Top would shit bricks if he saw that you were out of uniform and in this mess while the unit was still fighting. No, push those thoughts aside. No unit. No Top. No other side. You were here now, and you needed to enjoy this. You needed this to heal.

The baggage claim finally started turning and both of you focused on the bags slowly dropping down onto the carousel. You religiously checked your bag once it came down the chute, making sure that the name on the tag was yours. Thankfully it was, you turned to say goodbye to Jon, but he was busy looking for his bag as well. His hat and glasses had been replaced, and you figured it was just as well. He was famous, he needed anonymity, not some random soldier… ex-soldier?… hanging around.

You made your way to the car rental counter with fifteen minutes to spare before closing time. Thank god, well, thank whatever deity was keeping their eye out for you and your time schedule. You went through the rigmarole of dealing with license and insurance. You had the keys to the SUV and turned to leave just as the lady went into the back to shut down for the night. Tonight was going to be good. You were going to be good. Everything was going to be ok, right? You may not have a direction, but you had a way to get there.

As you walked away from the dark counter in the quiet airport you saw Jon running toward you. Shocked slightly by his appearance, you checked your bag again. Not again, you admonished yourself, no you didn't… Your train of thought vanished as he jogged by you to the now empty counter.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, slamming his hand on the counter. His shoulders slumped as he turned and walked away from the counter. "Fuck, shit, fuckin' shit, fuckity fuckin' shit fuck" he kept mumbling as he went to sit in the recliners that the counter had near.

Not sure what to do, you finally decided you couldn't leave it. You walked over to him and said, "Um, Jon, right? Hey, not to be super weird or anything, but are you ok?"

His eyes snapped up to yours and immediately his face relaxed a little. "Nah, but I'll be ok. Jus' my luck that this podunk ass airport only has one rental counter and it's closed. Wouldn't be an issue, but I got caught up with fans, you know how it is." He waved his hand and stared down at his phone again as if it would suddenly give him answers.

"Uh, yeah, I totally know about all that, got stopped myself like fifty times on my way to the counter." you chuckled.

He looked up again and smiled apologetically. "Yeah, sorry, I'm not usually such a dick, just been a rough day of travel. Y'd think I'd be use' to it by now. Now I have to wait for a rental tomorrow and drive straight through." His groan of agony hit you straight in the chest. He didn't seem harmful. He was famous, right? They have to be good in the public light.

"Hey," you said with more cheer than you intended, clearing your throat you tried again, "Hey, um, I did get a rental and I really am not expected anywhere for a couple weeks. I could help you, you know. Maybe help get you where you need tonight. I know you don't know me, but I feel that if I fucked over your time schedule with baggage then I should at least offer the ride."

He looked up at you from his seat. "Really?" Did he sound hopeful? Was that just you wanting him to sound hopeful?

"Yeah, I mean, sure, it's the least I can do," You offered.

He looked you up and down again, you felt yourself starting to blush. Thank god for the lower lights at night in the airport. He smiled again, and god you liked those dimples. "Yeah, yeah, that would be awesome." He grabbed his bags and yours. You blustered a bit at the help, but he insisted as you led your way to the car.