"Hey man, where's Bren?" Colt Cabana asked, coming up to Jay Briscoe, who was sitting on a road case in the back hallway, next to his brother. Jay Lethal was standing with them, as was Christopher Daniels. They were in Atlanta for a ROH event and TV taping, and it was early afternoon, so everyone was still arriving and the crew was setting up the ring and venue. It left time for the roster to mingle around backstage, catch up with one another, or complete any production filming that was needed.

"Put her in a back room, told her to sleep for a bit," Jay answered.

"She shouldn't be here," Mark chimed in.

"Yea, tried tellin' her that," his brother replied. "Makes me miss Nigel. She never argued him."

"Is she OK?" Lethal asked, confused and concerned, looking between the other men.

"Sick as shit," Jay explained. "Been this way for a few days."

"She looked like hell when I saw her," Colt stated. "Like, ready to pass out."

"She almost did last night when we got to the hotel," Mark said. "She said she hasn't been able to keep anything in her for at least two days."

"Can't you get Cary or Delirious to tell her she's not doing anything today?" Christopher questioned. "They can't let her go out there if she's that bad."

"Thought about it," Jay agreed. "But knowing Bren, she'll put on some fuckin' act or argue her way to what she wants. She thinks she's gotta do her job tonight, and nothin' should stop her."

"She can't wrestle like that though, it's not safe," Lethal argued.

"I know," Jay replied, appearing to grow irritated with the conversation. "Look, when I see Delirious, I'll bring it up to him, a'ight?"

None of the men noticed Adam Cole and The Young Bucks mingling nearby, with Nick and Matt sitting at a table and Adam standing beside them. And though he tried to focus on Nick speaking, Adam couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation the others were having.

He hated that he heard Brenna's name and immediately zeroed in on it. They weren't friends anymore, that much he felt confident in saying. He hadn't seen her in a month, when his birthday gift/peace offering had been thrown back in his face, resulting in yet another argument. At least she hadn't punched him that time. But it had put yet another nail in the coffin of their friendship, and he was beginning to want it to closed altogether. Why should he keep trying to make things right when she obviously hated him? It wasn't worth his time and effort. He hadn't done anything wrong in letting her move on with her life.

But then why the hell couldn't he just ignore her existence entirely? Why did hearing her name perk his ears?

"Sounds like Bren's in a bad way," Nick's voice broke in to Adam's thoughts, causing his eyes to cut towards the younger Buck.

"Huh?"

"Bren, sounds like she's pretty sick," Nick reiterated. Adam looked blankly back.

"So?"

"Man, c'mon," Matt chided him. "You were totally listening to them talk about her just now. You didn't hear anything we said." Adam looked at them with what he hoped was an expressionless face, trying to play off the situation. "You gotta stop this, whatever it is, with her. She did nothing wrong to you, dude."

"She literally punched me," Adam flatly reminded them.

"Because you were being a dick," Nick replied. Adam went to argue his side, but Nick held up his hand to stop him. "I know, OK? You think you're justified in all this, but man…you're just not. By this point, yea, you've both screwed up, big time. But it all started with you. Have you even tried to explain yourself to her?"

"Yes, I did," he answered, smugly. "And all she did was get mad at me."

"Did you get mad first? Or act like an arrogant ass the whole time?" Matt questioned, clearly knowing his groupmate.

"…not the whole time," Adam defended himself.

"Look, you both obviously have unresolved issues. And you both need to resolve them," Nick stated. "We spend way too much time in the same places for you guys to keep this up. Just…talk to her. And not like Adam Cole, the guy in the Bullet Club. Talk to her like Adam, her friend. Explain yourself to her. I know Bren, man, and she's hurt and she's mad. She just wants to know why you can't be around her anymore. You had a good thing going when Evan was around, and she doesn't get why you don't now. I also know if you actually tell her everything, really talk to her, things will get better."

"Do you think I care anymore? Honestly, it's whatever at this point," Adam stated, trying to be as dismissive about the subject as he could be.

"You're a terrible liar," Matt declared, his brother nodding in agreement.

The Bucks let the topic drop, instead talking about their matches for the night, and coming up with ideas. Adam was grateful, and tried to be engaged in the conversation. But in the back of his mind, the brothers' words rested, not allowing him to fully focus elsewhere. This whole thing with Brenna was such a clusterfuck at this point, was it even worth trying to fix? He was doing just fine without her being a regular part of his life. Maybe it was time to…move on. Nick did have a point when he said they had to be around each other consistently, so maybe a truce was in order. But he had already tried to mend fences, and she hadn't wanted that. So…it was, what it was. Right?

"Brenna," the quiet voice cut in to your sleeping mind. You shifted on your makeshift bed, having put down a couple sweaters to soften the floor you were laying on, and an airplane pillow under you head.

"Bug, c'mon," the voice requested again, a hand gently squeezing your arm. "Ya gotta wake up, kid." You moved again, letting a tired groan escape your mouth. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, before letting them crack open, finding Jay Briscoe crouched down in front of you. "Hey."

"Hey," you mumbled back, curling your body into itself, before stretching out your legs and then arms. You bent yourself as far back as you could, savoring the feeling of your muscles being pulled taught as you woke up. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to get up," Jay answered, causing your eyes to narrow. "I promise, you've got time to get ready. To be the prettiest ring announcer in the whole world."

"I have a match," you replied, letting your limbs fall down on to the floor, sprawling yourself on your back.

"…ya don't," he responded. Instantly your head whipped over, your eyes meeting his. He looked at you sheepishly. "You're not well, Bren. It wouldn't be safe to for you to be in the ring tonight."

"I'm well," you argued through gritted teeth.

"OK, but no one believes that so…figured it would just be best to have you hosting tonight than wrestling," Jay explained.

"And who's idea was that?"

"…group decision," he answered, apparently trying to protect himself and whoever else had been involved in the conversation. You glared at him, just knowing he had been the one to get the ball rolling on getting you taken out of your match. "Come on, Bren… You're not OK. You practically fell over last night, and you've been asleep most of today. We just…don't want anything to happen to you."

"Don't try to be sweet, I'm mad at you," you replied, turning over onto your other side, so your back was facing him. You placed your hands under your cheek, pulling your knees towards your chest, sufficiently pouting. You knew in your heart Jay was just being your "big brother", and trying to look out for you. But you also knew being a woman wrestler in ROH was a tough situation, and any match was a blessing to have. Getting taken out of one was a curse.

"Bren, c'mon," he pleaded again with you, placing his hand lightly on your shoulder. You wanted to shrug it off, but were too tired to do so. "You're still out there, still a part of the show. And I know you'd rather be wrestling but…it's just not gonna be tonight, OK? You're the fucking best woman on the roster, so you know next match will be yours no question."

"You suck," you grumbled, hating the sense he was making, and that you had no counter-argument. And you really hated that you knew this decision had already been finalized without your input.

"Love you too, kid," Jay responded. "You OK to get up and ready?"

"I'm sick, not dying," you stated plainly.

"A'ight, just checkin'," he removed his hand from you. "I'll see ya in a bit."

"Yep," you affirmed, your tone fairly irritated. You listened as Jay got up, and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. You laid there for a few more moments, allowing yourself to come to terms with your adjusted role in the show for the night.

Slowly, you sat yourself up on the floor, feeling lightheaded still. It took some time, but you found yourself standing. You got yourself ready, taking your time to pull on a red-orange dress, that stopped about mid-thigh. It was form-fitting, though over the shoulders was a bunch of material hanging that was almost cape-like. A black belt accentuated your waist, and you slipped your black heels on your feet. You put your hair in a fishtail braid, laying over your shoulder, and completed your look with light makeup. You did your best to hide the bags under your eyes, give yourself some color, and overall make yourself look more alive than dead.

Exiting the locker room, you came upon the buzz of activity that usually happened for an ROH show. People were coming and going constantly, setting up this and that, confirming everyone knew their place, and nothing would happen that would cause problems. You sluggishly made your way through the hallway to the production office, hoping to find out the match line-up for the night and your part in it. You were barely spared a glance as papers were handed to you, and you slipped back out of the office without a second thought.

As you meandered through the hallway, hoping to find a place to sit and read through the papers, you felt your body getting warm, and almost sweaty. Clammy. Another fucking hot flash, really? You had your fair share of them the last few days, usually leading up to you vomiting. The backstage suddenly felt suffocating, overwhelming, and you ducked out the first door you saw that led to the outside.

The cool night air was a welcome feeling to you, as you found yourself in the back parking lot of the arena. You wished you had a coat or sweatshirt so you could sit down without having your dress get dirty. Instead, you settled for leaning back against the door, hoping no one tried to come through it. Closing your eyes, you took in a small breath, attempting to relax your body in to some semblance of steadiness. You felt like shit.You swallowed, trying to keep the nausea at bay. You stood as still as possible in hopes of keeping your stomach contained.

Unfortunately, it seemed to be for naught, as you felt yourself ready to wretch. You scampered to the edge of the building, preferring to be sick out of sight. Your body heaved, in an attempt at expelling your stomach contents, which unfortunately for you was basically nothing. You found yourself just heaving, eventually spitting up a minor amount of stomach fluid and spit, and not much else. You hurt, with tears leaking from your eyes at the actions your body was forcing you to endure. After a handful of lurches, which resulted in nothing but more pain in your abdomen, and messed up make-up, you felt that the sick spell was over. You wished you had tissues to wipe at your eyes and cheeks, and water to rinse out your mouth. And a soft bed to lay down in.

"Brenna?"

Oh...no. No no no. Please. No. Not now. Not now, universe, I can't. I already feel like shit enough. Don't add to this.

"Hey, are you…no, you're not OK, but…"

"I am OK," you cut off his rambling voice, which was coming from somewhere behind you.

"You're not," he argued, his tone stiff. "…do you want me to get Jay?"

"I'm a big girl, I can handle myself," you retorted, refusing to be the damsel in distress he seemingly saw you as, despite the fact that you were leaning against a brick wall, probably looking like a disaster. You stood up straight, reaching up to wipe fingers beneath your eyes, blindly attempting to fix your makeup. You sniffled, and took in a shallow breath.

"Bren…"

"Go away, Adam," you sighed.

It was a few seconds before you heard him walk away, the door opening and closing after him. At the close, you let yourself sag back against the side of the building. You felt exhausted, unsteady, unwell. You hated being like this, and hated even more that others were seeing you in such a state. But your drive to always be the workhorse and reliable had overridden that, and brought you to the ROH show tonight. You had no one to blame but yourself.

A minute or so later, you heard the door opening again. You tried to make yourself tiny against the wall, hoping whoever it was wouldn't realize you were standing in the shadows. Your hopes were dashed quickly however as footsteps came closer to you.

"Here." You would have had a more shocked reaction when you realized Adam was holding out a bottle to you, but you were just too fatigued. It appeared to be a yellow Gatorade, and after a moment of hesitance, you reached out to accept it. He stood to the side of you, a good foot between the both of you.

You cracked open the bottle, taking a swig, which you swished around in your mouth before spitting it out on the ground around the corner. So ladylike. You took another sip after that, gingerly, scared of putting anything in your body at this point.

"Thanks," you whispered, the ingrained manners in you taking over. You took another small drink from the bottle, before capping it, not wanting to test fate. You lifted your head, finally looking at the man nearby. He was dressed in black dress pants and shoes, a black dress shirt unbuttoned and hanging open over a black t-shirt. His hair was pulled back in his signature messy bun, higher up on his head than low to his neck. He was looking at you, almost sadly, definitely pitifully.

"How rough do I look?" You asked, trying to lighten the situation.

"I've seen you worse," was his answer, his eyes calm as he looked you over. "Why are you here, Bren? You're sick."

"I've been worse," you replied, using his words against him. He didn't seem to react to your answer, continuing to just look at you, assessing you. You hated that you were still leaning against the wall, physically unable to do more. You didn't want to be weak in front of him, of all people. An involuntary shiver went through your body, the night air now too cold as your hot flash and vomiting episode had passed. You wished you weren't ill, that you were able to just stride away from him, head held high. Instead, he was seeing you vulnerable, physically downtrodden, and overall pathetic.

"I think you need to get inside," he stated.

"…I'm good here," you argued, and even you knew it was a weak response, done just for the sake of disagreeing with him. You expected him to say more, debate you further on the matter. What you didn't expect was him slipping off his dress shirt, and placing it over your shoulders.

"Put that on at least," he directed, his tone leaving no room for dispute. You set down the Gatorade bottle less than gracefully, and balanced yourself inches from the wall as you slipped your arms in to the shirt, adjusting the material of your dress within its confines. You secured two of the buttons in the middle section to keep it closed around yourself. Though it was light, it offered some barrier to the night air, and you welcomed the warmth it still contained from his body. Once it was on, you leaned your back against the building wall, facing towards him.

"Brenna, can you even walk right now?"

"Yes," you answered quickly, trying to sound offended he even second-guessed such a thing. He leveled you with a disbelieving look, and you stared back stonily. "Adam, I'm fine."

"…stop, Bren…just…stop," he requested, sounding tired of your assertions and somewhat annoyed. "You're not, you and I know it. And you should be anywhere but here right now."

"I'm fine," you repeated, though your voice had lost most of its strength. He stared at you more, and you stared back, trying to suppress another shiver that went through your body. You didn't want to look as bad as your knew you were. This illness, stomach flu, whatever it was, was wreaking havoc on your body, but he didn't need to know that. You didn't want him to know that. You didn't like him around you at your best, let alone at your worst. Only friends should be allowed in these moments, and he certainly wasn't one of those.

"C'mere," he said, shifting his right arm in a beckoning manner towards you. You stared at him blankly, confused and suspicious. "We both know you're not going to go back inside so everyone can see you like this, and we both know you're cold…so, come here." He lifted his arm more, indicating he expected you to move to him.

You slightly appreciated that he said cold, and not weak.

You weren't entirely sure why you did what he asked of you, but you did. You did know you were worn out, hurting, desperate to not feel so awful anymore. You slid from leaning on the wall, all but stumbling towards him. Once you were close enough, Adam put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. He waited a moment, to make sure you didn't change your mind, before putting his other arm around you, securing you in his embrace. He held you tight against his body, arms overlapping around your shoulders, his head light against the side of yours. You kept your arms curled in to yourself, between your bodies, as you let your forehead rest against his chest, closing your eyes.

You didn't know what to make of the situation, and you were somewhat wary of it. Here was this man who had at one point been a genuine friend, who had then become someone you were distrustful and angry towards, but was now someone offering you comfort? None of it made sense. The last you had spoken to Adam, or rather argued with Adam, had resulted in him walking away from you. Again. Why did he want you near now? Why did he care at all about your well-being?

"You shouldn't be here," he stated, repeating his earlier thought, his voice quiet near your ear.

"I'll live," you replied.

"Will you?" Adam challenged. "You need rest, not to be on this show."

"Stop trying to tell me what I need," you demanded. It irked you that he thought he had any idea what was best of you, let alone that he had any say in your current matters. You knew you weren't well right now, but it wasn't like you were collapsing at every turn. And maybe he was somewhat right, you shouldn't be at the show given your illness, but he didn't have to know that. You were tough, you could make it.

"Listen to me…I get it, OK? I've worked sick before too. But there's a difference between that, and when you aren't even able to stand. This isn't you just getting over something, you're really sick, like right now. And you're just making yourself worse by being here. Do you want this to be me and pneumonia all over again, but for you?"

"Why do you even care?"

"Why are you letting me hold you?"

"…because you're surprisingly better than a brick wall," you retorted.

"Well, gee, thanks," Adam replied, his tone teasing. You couldn't help but smile slightly at his response, a little surprised he hadn't had a more aggravated reaction. Silence fell upon you both after the exchange. He adjusted his arms around you, lowering them so they were wrapped around the middle of your back, creating a more warm cocoon for you to be in.

"Please, be honest with me Bren…do you really think you can make it through the show tonight?"

You wanted to tell him you could, that you were a warrior that wouldn't let some little stomach bug keep you from doing your job. You wanted to prove him wrong, let him see that you were self-sufficient, and he didn't need to give a shit about you anymore. You wanted to be done with this entire situation. But you knew it would all be lies, and you were exhausted. And something in his voice, in his actions, tugged at you to be honest with him like he wanted.

"…no."

"Alright," he said, accepting your words without hesitation. "Then let's find a way to get you back to the hotel."

"Adam…"

"It's not up for debate, Brenna," he cut off your feeble objection. "Everyone's worried about you, and you're clearly not OK. You need to get out of here, and sleep somewhere that isn't a locker room."

Another protest was on the tip of your tongue, but you let it die there. You knew, you just somehow knew, he wasn't going to let you win this one. And to be honest, part of you didn't want to. The idea of getting to be out of this dress and heels, in sweatpants and in a warm bed…it sounded really, really good right now.

"Let me take you to Jay, OK?"

"…yea, alright," you acquiesced. Adam released you from his embrace gently, and you immediately missed the warmth it had been giving you. You stood yourself up, and wobbled slightly in your shoes, having not had your entire weight upright in some time now.

"I got you," Adam stated, sliding his arm around your waist, keeping you from stumbling again. He pulled you against his side, and your head fell to rest against his shoulder. You felt heavy, like your whole body was being pulled down extra hard by gravity. "We'll go slow."

Adam left his arm around you, keeping you on your feet, as the pair of you gradually made your way back in to the building. You could only imagine what people thought when they saw you both going down the hallway. You, wrapped in his dress shirt, tucked in to his side. He, an arm around your waist, holding you firmly. It was no secret among the locker room that you two weren't on good terms, so the sight was probably confusing, to say the least.

"Yo, Bren, what happened?!" Apparently you weren't going to have to go the locker room after all. Jay came upon you and Adam in the hallway, having been walking already in the direction towards you both, dressed in his ring gear.

"Same ol', same ol'," you answered, giving him a slight smile. "I'm fine, just probably need to go lay down."

"She needs to be back at the hotel," Adam countered your words. "She isn't doing the show tonight." Jay looked at Adam, his face displaying his confusion as to what you were doing with Adam to begin with, and why he was getting such a say in your business.

"And you decided this?" Jay questioned him, his tone giving away that he wasn't happy Adam was calling the shots right now. You could feel Adam straighten next to you at the negative reply, as though he took it as some type of challenge.

"We decided this," you cut in, before the brewing confrontation could really kick off. "I shouldn't have come here. You were right Jay." It was a moment later that Jay finally took his angry stare from Adam, and looked at you but with sympathy.

"Yea, I know," he stated, making you roll your eyes. "Well, c'mon. We'll get someone to take you back." He reached out to you, and you untucked yourself from Adam, who loosened his arm to let you go, transferring yourself to Jay's side. It didn't go unnoticed by you how Jay pulled you as close as possible once you were within reach, as if shielding you from Adam.

"I got her," Jay stated, dismissing Adam, who in response held his hands up in an innocent manner in front of himself

"Just helping out," he explained, before turning his gaze to you. "Get some sleep Brenna."

"Adam…" You considered him, suddenly at a loss for words. It was just now becoming clear to you how caring he was being towards you, how gentle and concerned his actions had been tonight. In your sick haze you hadn't realized until now that, despite whatever anger and hate he had towards you, it didn't matter to him when he saw how unwell you truly were. This was the Adam you had known for years, but had lost in previous months. This was the person you had called friend once upon a time, and not foe has you had recently. This was the Adam you wanted back in your life full-time.

"Rest, Bren," he repeated, not allowing you time to gather your thoughts enough to say more to him. And with a curt nod towards Jay, he walked off down the hallway.

As always, reviews/feedback are so welcome! :)