A/N: Hi again! Ready for another wonderful installment? I know I am. Thank you all for the reviews, as always, I appreciate them. For those that bumped into this story randomly, thank you, I'm so happy for all the support. Stay cool!


The man looked at the icon blinking on his phone, his stomach churning. One missed call. One new voice message. From a number he didn't recognize. An area code that he didn't know…

This could mean one of three things.

First, it could be, and most likely was, the WWE headquarters. They'd cordially invited him to the Hall of Fame ceremony, where his former partner would be inducted this year. He'd denied the request of course, since he'd cut all his ties with the company after they'd cut all their ties with him.

He'd dreamed about going back for so long now, but he'd really managed to piss off a lot of people. He'd done a lot of things that he wasn't proud of. But, on the flipside, he was much more accomplished now; making even bigger a name for himself than he already had prior.

After all, he was Willow now, the psychotic superstar that carried an umbrella as a weapon and prop. He was no longer a rainbow-haired warrior. He was no longer the locker room joke. Maybe he could get himself back to the WWE with all of his new claims to fame.

But those stupid drug tests…he was barely skating by now. He'd pop a few pills now and then to get rid of the pain in his lower back. Sometimes, he'd sneak a hit from his glass pipe when his wife wasn't around. She'd be awfully disappointed in him. He told her he'd quit when their baby was born…

Shaking his head as though to free himself from the negativity, he began to weigh the other possibilities. It could be…him. The very same him who knew his demons and knew how to challenge them. Just a bag here, a line there. He gave the best deals and went through the best drug lord; the very same who had previously dealt with big-name superstars in the past.

But, his supplier hadn't spoken to him since it was revealed that he'd been dealing within the locker room. He had been let go almost immediately when they'd issued a search of his hotel room, finding a ridiculous amount of, well, everything. Rather than take it up with the police or MEG unit, they'd slapped UNHIRABLE across his record, and he would only wrestle in the littlest of little arenas ever again.

The final possibility could be…her.

He hadn't heard from her, either, since he'd told her he was getting married and didn't want anything to do with her ever again. Since he'd put her through hell and back, introduced her to the horrific world of drug use. Since he'd broken her down, stolen her heart, and demolished every bit of trust she'd had for people. He knew he'd done all of those things, but still found it hard to believe it had actually been him. Could he really hurt someone that badly? Did he really get physical with a little…girl?

He didn't know much of what happened to her after she'd called that final time they'd spoken. She was sent off to rehab, supposedly she had responded really well to it, and returned to the WWE with a boom. He didn't watch anymore, because it made him feel a little empty inside.

That, and he knew he couldn't handle seeing Chelsea on TV, let alone in person. Once in awhile, he face would pop up on Bleacher Report. He checked in time to time to see if he was on there, but he wasn't really a hot topic right now. Apparently she was, though. And that little skinny girl that dated CM Punk. Ugh, he loathed him.

He wanted to apologize to Chels, but how could he? He didn't even remember everything he had actually done to her. He had been told of some of the things he did. He remembered scattered bits and pieces, but certainly not everything. He knew he'd slept with her innumerable times, done some fucked up shit that even his girlfriend (and now, his wife) would never dream about doing in the bedroom. He knew that he was drunk or high or both for most his final weeks.

He also knew that, despite the bullshit, he felt truly sorry and responsible for Chelsea's downward spiral. Someone that could've been the top diva, and now, probably would never see the title at all…because of him, and the habit he'd created.

He always believed that there was the possibility of multiple soul mates. He'd always loved and cherished Beth, no doubt. But Chelsea was amazing in her own unique way. He believed that had he met Chelsea first, things would have turned out to be much, much different.

Unfortunately, timing was a bitch. And he met Beth first, been through some serious bullshit with her. He wouldn't be able to leave her, no matter what. No matter what he wished, or what Chelsea had hoped for. She had told him all the time that she loved him and wanted to be more than what they were, but he'd always let it roll off from his shoulders. He didn't want to give her false hopes; to him, all she was was a bedmate.

Maybe it was Chelsea calling. He decided it was time to clear the air a bit between them. Some of the memories he'd had still haunted him at night, and he hoped that she was happy, doing whatever it was she was doing.

Even though he still somewhat believed that she should be doing whatever she was doing…with him.

He watched her across from the bar, her long, black hair neatly piled high into a tight bun. Her makeup was expertly done, and the way her eyes reflected the bar lights made him curious. She was bright looking, a bubbly yet dark creature. If vampires existed, she'd make a perfect one. She was drawing Jeff in with those eyes.

"What's up, man?" asked Davey Boy Smith, sliding right next to his seat.

"Her, man," Jeff nodded across the way, and Davey laughed loudly. "Her? That's Natalie's best friend."

"So?"

"So, she's out of your league," he said, getting hold of the bartender. "Besides, you've got someone. Let Chelsea find someone worth her time. Not someone like you, or like me. She's a good girl with a lot going for her."

But Jeff couldn't just ignore her, or her eyes. He saw her repeatedly in the locker room, at the hotel bars they stayed at. He watched her from far away, only feeling confident enough to catch her attention when she had gotten hurt.

Jeff was strung up that night, of course. He didn't have the amount of humor or chivalry necessary to talk to someone as beautiful as this girl...and that's where the drugs would play in.

Chelsea's eyes flashed again in Jeff's mind. God, she was beautiful, more so back then...before he got to her.

No, no, no. That's not how he was supposed to think at all! But something in him told him…that if he did go to the hall of fame ceremony, he'd feel that feeling all over again. That, or he'd run into his old friend—his dealer.

He gave in and called into his voicemail. A bubbly voice greeted him on the other end. Natalie Niedhart.

He groaned. He had never really had a big problem with Nat, except that she was friends with Chelsea. They were still friends, weren't they? Of course they were. She'd probably set up Nat to call him, urge him to come to the hall of fame ceremony. They probably had either a sick revenge plot against him or Chelsea wanted to fuck him like never before.

Well, shit. In that case, he just might go.

But…wasn't Nat the one that had gotten him into so much trouble with Beth? Of course she was. Because Chelsea was jealous. What really happened? It was so foggy…

There had been tears after the phone call. Many, many tears, cried by Beth. Cried by Jeff. He had admitted to his long-term girlfriend that yes, part of him loved Chelsea in a sisterly sort of way. That no, he didn't cheat on her. That yes, they smoked and drank together. No, he didn't want to be with her.

He was a liar. He was a huge liar. Covering his ass at every turn. But Beth was never supposed to find out about Chelsea Schwedt, her black and teal hair, her long, lean body and the way she flaunted her perfect skin. The way they'd flirted nonchalantly for the whole world to see. Beth should never have found out the abuse he'd put Chelsea's heart through. That's why, after she found out about their pseudo-relationship, Jeff had no choice but to be cruel and cut ties with the other woman to save his relationship with his first love.

At the time, it seemed like the right decision. Because the backlash began quickly. Because, he presumed, Chelsea was so irate that he'd ultimately chosen Beth over her that she began calling and texting, but never saying anything. After that phone number was blocked, Natalie gave Beth a jingle, telling her everything and anything she knew.

Someone, most likely Chels, had told Natalie about the naughty, dirty deeds they'd done together. The detail was so accurate that he was a dead man—who else would know about his willow tattoo on his inside thigh if they hadn't been close enough?

Chelsea was trying to screw Jeff over, just the same as he'd done to her. She'd brought in other people. Natalie!

But the thing that never made any sense to him was why Chelsea was offered her job with the WWE back and Jeff wasn't. He'd made a name for himself there! What the hell did she do that was so damned special?

"If you want to be with me Jeff, you better try like hell to prove it!" Beth had screamed. "That girl needs to disappear, and if she doesn't, I'll make her!"

She did disappear. Beth had taken away Jeff's cellphone at the time, smashed it into a zillion pieces, and he had no way of getting hold of her ever again.

Until now.


Natalie smiled evilly as Summer Rae and Rosa sat across from her at the nearby Starbucks.

"That was awesome," Summer breathed. "I can't believe you!"

"You little devil," Rosa agreed.

"Jeff just needed a little persuading," Nat flipped her hair. "I know he'll be at that ceremony now. He's got some close ties to my family, if you know what I mean."

Summer Rae cocked an eyebrow. "No, I don't," she said. "Should I?"

Nat licked her lips. "You know, Chelsea acts so clueless. Why do I hate her? Because she couldn't keep her damn mouth shut. She stained my family. Ruined a career and an image of a family member. And that's why she should disappear forever."

"I don't understand," Rosa pouted.

"There's nothing to understand," Natalie said briskly, and the other two women shut up. That tone usually was a shut-the-fuck-up tone, and they'd learned it quickly when they were with the Hart Foundation team member.

"I made sure that Jeff ruined her at the end. Sent her flying off the handle, and that I did…he believes that she told Beth about all of their late-night rendezvous but it was me who had made those calls. Because I thought they were both rats! So I try ruining both of them, just as they'd done to my family. And I thought I succeeded. Put their psychotic relationship under a damn microscope, and boom! The whole world knew they were an item."

The other two women looked at each other, confused looks across both of their faces. They had no idea what the Canadian beauty was talking about. She seemed to be in some sort of trance, validating that everything she'd done to Chelsea was justified. That the reason she was putting her through hell and back was to avenge her family. Whatever her family secret was, it was something that Chelsea had to have known.

Or something that Natalie believed that Chelsea knew.

Summer Rae racked her brain. Alright, so...Natalie hated Chelsea for talking about her family? But who? And why was it such a big deal? Did she really hate her so much that she was going to force Jeff Hardy and Chelsea into an uncomfortable relationship? Sure, Summer Rae didn't know much of Chelsea's deal with Jeff was...but she had heard. It was quieted information, but common knowledge. And part of her was starting to feel kind of...guilty.


"Roman, this is amazing!" Chelsea shrieked, rocking her feet to the loud, banging music. Skillet was in full-swing now, and she was having the time of her life.

"Don't thank me, babe. Thank Dean. But truly, they are great to see live," he agreed, and he meant it. The violins—violins! In a rock band!—they were wild, unbelievable, and peppy. The lead singer had some kind of charisma about him that really got the crowd going. But the other one that sang once in awhile, the drummer…she was by far the crowd favorite. Understandably so, she was wailing on that drum like no other, and her English voice was beautifully measured out.

Though Roman didn't really know anything about this band, it meant a lot to Chelsea. He understood what it meant to her friend, too. But Dean…now that didn't make sense. Sometimes, Roman felt like he was strung up in a web of lies. Or maybe not necessarily lies, but…misconceptions. Chelsea and Dean were friends. At some point, they were previously friends. Prior to the Shield, prior to the Anti-Divas. Dean had dated Allison, who he had broken up with to date that Marissa chick…who, he'd been told, had also broken up with Marissa because he was still so hung up on Allison.

Ugh, all this was a whirlwind. Deep in the pit of his stomach, though, he knew something was missing.

Allison was missing. Which meant that it wasn't that Dean was hung up on Allie…he was hung up on Chelsea.

"Ro, are you alright?" Chelsea's perfectly painted eyelashes fluttered, and it calmed him. At least she didn't return the feelings. It seemed like she was the only one in the dark.

"I'm alright, Chelsea," he lied, but tried to show that he was having a great time regardless. He put his hands on her hips, and rocked slowly to the beat, listening to the words of the song. As if they held some secret to this mystery.

I'm so sick of when they say,

It's just a phase, you'll be okay, you're fine.

But I know it's a lie.

This is the last night you'll spend alone,

Look me in the eye so I know you know, I'm everywhere

You want me to be.

The puzzle pieces were there, but none of them fit. And Chelsea wasn't talking...but she had to eventually, right? He was sick of the mind games, honestly. Sick of guessing, sick of the secrets. He promised he wouldn't egg her on, force her to talk about the past when she wasn't ready to. But this was getting a little ridiculous to him.

On the other hand, he had never been in such a devoted relationship like this before. His cousins had even noted how much time he was spending with Chelsea, and they jokingly called her "the wifey." Not that it was a bad thing or anything. Roman never really had the playboy status; he was much more humble and careful. In fact, the only out of character thing he'd done in a relationship was the night he'd cheated on Alicia Fox. Fact aside, he was much more choosey about who he spent his days with, and, most especially, his nights.

He wasn't about to give up on the mystery quite yet.

Roman spun around Chelsea to face her and give her a kiss, but instead, he was met with tears.

"Chels? What's wrong?"

"Just this song, it always…gets to me," she said quietly, wiping a black streak from her cheek.

"I love you, so I want you to know, that you can tell me anything."

Chelsea nodded. "I know. And I will. I want to. But…it might be easier to show you."

Roman gave her a questioning look.

"When we get my things from my house. I've got to show things to you that are too difficult to come out and say."

"Chels…"

"I mean it, Ro. Jeff Hardy isn't the only bullshit I've been through. I've had a rocky life. And some rocks are too hard to push by yourself." She took a deep breath, calming herself. "Sometimes, you meet people that change everything. Your outlook, the way you think about yourself, and the way you see your future. And sometimes, God takes those people away from you. It took me forever to realize people aren't always meant to be in your life forever. They're placed randomly in it when they're needed. Like actors in a play. But when you get too attached to someone, it hurts like hell when they're not on the set anymore."

Roman considered what she meant. People seemed to be in and out of Chelsea's life all the time. Her mom didn't speak to her anymore. Her brother was making a life for himself in another country. Natalie, her former best friend and co-trainer hated for her God knows what. Jeff Hardy. Dean, perhaps. That Allison girl that she'd roomed with...

Holy shit.

Roman figured it out. Well, at least he had started to. Allison was Lennon, Dean's girlfriend was Allison, and Chelsea's rehab friend was called Lennon. For whatever reason, she called her by her stage name. Which was why Toby had sent the link to Lennon's song. He didn't think anything of it, but Allison/Lennon was the missing link, indeed. Allison had introduced Chelsea and Dean at some point while she was in rehab...which was why Dean had acted so weird at first.

He already knew Chelsea. He had met her before. And at the time until recently, he didn't like her. Maybe Dean and Allison/Lennon had gotten through things and their differences, and everyone was happy, or trying to be.

But if that was the case, why was Dean acting so strangely at Chelsea's birthday party? And around him?

"Does it somehow relate to Dean?" Roman found himself asking. His heart sank a little bit when she quickly nodded.

"Did you—"

"No!" she cut him off quickly. "No, nothing like that. I promise you. I will show you the…I'll just show you."

Although Roman didn't like the answer much, at least he was getting somewhere with this. And with Chelsea's past that she pretended didn't exist. It did put him at ease that there was nothing between Chelsea and Dean in the past…but that didn't mean anything for the present, did it? Dean had gotten these excellent tickets for the girl that he claimed he couldn't stand just a few months ago.

Chelsea turned back to Roman during a short intermission, giving a weak smile.

"I love you, Roman. And I want you to know that every day I'm with you, I feel alive."

Roman pulled her in again for a hug, and a quick kiss.

"Then be with me every day," he said into her hair.

"I will be," she answered, "I live in your house now."

Roman let out a low laugh. "You're right, you do. But I want you, one day, to be more."

Chelsea smiled, slowly understanding the implication.

"One day," she nodded.

"One day," he agreed.

Maybe.