Chapter Disclaimer: Same as before. I don't own John Cena, or anyone currently under contract to World Wrestling Entertainment, or Titan Sports. I am merely a writer, and a drop dead broke one at that. Don't sue; there's nothing of mine that you would want, I'm confident of that much.

Two Weeks Later - May, 2006

Having been given a few weeks off from hunting his WWE Championship from the current champion, Triple H, a.k.a. Paul Lévesque for his wife's funeral, John rolled over in bed, groaning as his head spun from dizziness and hangover. Falling out of the bed, he was immediately shaken into wakefulness when his body hit the cold floor.

And the cold slap of reality stung his face, numbing him to the core.

Ali was dead. She wasn't coming back at all. She was dead and buried, and there was nothing he could do about it, besides fuck his life up so he could join her. John loved her that much, that he would give up his life, to be with the one he loved. Hell, he didn't give a damn about his wrestling career anymore; people hated and despised him for using the ever-infamous "Five Moves of Doom!", and winning every single match with the same five moves.

If they hated him so much, what the hell was the point in going back to the WWE anyway? Those fucking fans wouldn't do a thing, except boo him out of the building. Well, that was more than fine with him. Before, he'd get fired up at all the people who cheered and booed him; they were the ones who urged him on, to never give up. He fought for anyone and everyone who cheered and jeered him; they were the reason he was still there, and he had been grateful to them for every single second they had shared his experience.

But now? Now, John couldn't give two shits about the fans, and what they wanted and expected of him. Before Ali's accident, John's last clear memory of her was the two of them arguing about his career. She'd wanted him to spend more time with her in West Newbury, and he couldn't, because of his wrestling career.

Flashback - Six Months Before - November, 2005

"John, I think it'd be a good idea to cut down your schedule," Alisha said, laying a hand on her husband's arm, concern written all over her face. "Seriously, you're gonna burn out one of these days, I mean it. When was the last time you've had a decent night's sleep?"

John sighed as Ali followed him down the stairs. "Ali, baby, please, there's no need for you to worry about me, really," he said, getting aggravated. That whole weekend, Ali had been worried about him being tired, and nagging him about cutting down his work schedule. "It doesn't matter that I haven't had that much sleep. I'm the WWE Champion, I have an obligation to my fans."

"Well, what about your wife? What about your health? You can't defend your title looking like hell, not eating right, and not getting enough sleep. John, I'm really worried about you. Maybe it's best if you do lose the title."

John turned and faced his wife. "Ali, stop worrying about me!" he cried. "Please! It's suffocating me, honestly. I do get enough sleep; it may not be a full eight hours, but hell, what wrestler in the WWE does get eight hours or more of sleep?"

"One who doesn't have the heavy ass schedule you do," she snapped. "You want me to stop worrying over you, John? Fine! I won't worry about you anymore!"

"Thank God," he breathed, heading for the door.

"You know what, John? One day, you're going to get tired of all those people. You're going to get tired of all the people booing you, and cheering you. You're going to resent your schedule, and everyone backstage. And that's when you're going to have a breakdown. That's why I worry, John, because I love you. And I don't want to see anything bad happen to you."

John turned at the door, and hugged his wife. "I love you, Ali. I'm truly sorry."

"It's alright," she whispered. "You do what you think is best. You just come back to me in one piece." She winked at him, and he grinned.

"I'll be back in a few days," he said, kissing her lips. As he pulled out of the driveway of their house, he saw Ali waving at him, a beatific smile gracing her face.

"I love you!" she yelled for everyone to hear. He only grinned and tossed her a thumbs-up sign, as he pulled off into the street.

End Flashback

John groaned again, and sat up on the floor, an exhausted look on his face. "Lord, I wish that you were still here," he sighed, running his hands over his face. He sat back on the bed, and looked at the alarm clock next to his bed. 12 noon. If he maybe went back on the road early, and threw himself into his matches more, then maybe he wouldn't have to think about how alone he now felt.

He looked at an empty bottle of Jack Daniel's on the nightstand behind his clock, and groaned again, grabbing the bottle and tossing it agitatedly against the wall opposite his bed. He flopped facedown into the pillows, wanting to block out everything in the past five months that had fucked his life up. Just as he was sure he was going to smother himself, a loud noise brought him out of his trance.

Someone was moving in next door.

Outside…

"Bro, can you be a LITTLE more CAREFUL?" Krystle London asked, running a hand through her dark brown and red streaked hair. "I mean, that DID cost a lot of money, you know."

"Lady, chill," one mover said, as he and his partner brought a giant portrait out of a monstrous U-Haul truck. "We're doing the best we can."

"Well, maybe you can be a tad less King Kong-like with your moving skills?" she suggested, climbing into the truck, and bringing out a dresser on a cart. "Put the painting on the second floor. I'll hang it up later, once I get everything settled. And when you come back, you can take this dresser, and place it in the front bedroom." Krys looked around her, and squinted. "Wow, this place looks sort of… dead."

"Krys!" a voice called. Krystle turned around to see her friend Martinique Evans come pulling up in her Jeep. Martinique and her cousin, former WWE Superstar Rodney Mack, got out of the car, and hugged Krys. "I'm surprised you're here so soon."

"Well, the only reason I stayed in Texas was because of Paul." Krys looked down at her wedding ring, her eyes getting misty. "And now that he's gone…" her voice wavered "…I have no reason to stay there. So I thought, 'What the hell, I might as well come back up north with you guys.' So, here I am, moving in early."

"It's great to see you, girl," Martinique said, wrapping her arm around Krys' neck. "You will absolutely LOVE West Newbury. It's no Cambridge, or Austin, or even Philly, for that matter; but it's still a damn good place to live. And you have to meet the residents around here! They're great, I'm telling you. You'll fit right in."

Krys looked around her, and squinted once again. "Well, I guess I'll have to wait for my warm reception, huh?" she said jokingly. "While you're here, want to help me unload some of this crap I got while down in Austin?"

"I don't see why not," Rodney said, climbing aboard the truck, and handing out blankets and draperies to Krys and Martinique. "I'll handle the heavy stuff; you girls just grab whatever you can carry, and take them in."

"Thank you, boss man," Martinique joked, then took the bundle of fabrics with her into the house. "Hey, Krys, where do you want me to put these?"

Krys turned her attention to Martinique, who was in the doorway of the house. "Um, in the front bedroom," she called. "Paul Junior's staying with his grandparents and uncles in Austin, but I told him as soon as I got settled in, I'd send for him," she said to Rodney, who nodded.

"Char can't wait to see the little runt. Here, catch." He tossed her a box full of clothes, and Krys caught it easily.

"Thank goodness that wasn't my china!" she said jokingly, mocking a shocked look at her friend, grinning when he made a fact at her. "I'll take these in, be back in a few."

Walking inside her house, Krys placed the box in her bedroom near the side

window of her room. "When you guys bring in the bed, headboard, and footrest, put them up against the wall between the windows, preferably under the second window." The workers nodded, and left the room to go back outside and bring in more items to fill the house.

Standing in the middle of the spacious bedroom, Krys realized that she was alone for the first time in her life. Granted, she had Martinique, and her family to keep her company, but she wanted more of a love interest, or a prospect willing to have a relationship or a long-term affair. That was exactly the way things were with Paul… she thought to herself, looking back to the promise ring on her right ring finger. He'd given her that ring back when they'd first started dating, because he knew that she was the one for him. She then looked to her wedding band on her left ring finger, and a lone tear coursed its way down her cheek. Why she did what she did was unexplainable, and inexcusable. That was the only reason she'd had to move from Austin to Boston/West Newbury.

Krys turned quickly when there was a knock at the door. "Krys?" Martinique asked softly, walking into the room. "Are you alright?"

Krys nodded quickly, wiping her face quickly, so as not to concern her friend. "Yeah," she said quickly, trying to cover the sadness in her voice. "I… I'm fine. I'll be alright."

"Is it about little Paul?"

"No. It's just… I don't know why I had to do it, M. It hurt so bad to pull that trigger, but he hurt me. I just… I couldn't take it anymore, and now…" she sighed "… my husband's dead."

"You never did tell me the whole story, Krys," Martinique said quietly, looking intently at Krys. "Just… why did you kill Paul?"

Krys looked Martinique right in the eyes, and said, "I'll tell you when the time is right. Right now isn't the time."

"Take your time, sweetie." Martinique hugged the young woman, who was almost like a sister to her. "Open up to me when you're ready. You know I'll always be here."

"I know. Thank you." M, she thought sadly, you'd never forgive me, if I told you the real reason Paul had to die.