Jon was sitting on the bench in his locker room, taping his wrists. His shoulder was still tender from last night and he knew it would hurt with the bumps he was going to take tonight, but he decided against getting the medical staff to tape it. He didn't need a reason for them to keep an eye on him. He heard his locker room door open, and turned to see Roman pulling his bag behind him. He gave him a raised eyebrow greeting then looked back at his wrists.
"Hey man," Roman returned as he set his bag down. "What's up with Claire?" Jon looked up at him blankly. "What do you mean?" he asked genuinely. He'd not seen her since he got here; he knew they were having some important meeting before the show, where they both hoped she was going to switch house show rotations. She said she'd swing by after it was over, if she could, otherwise they were going to catch a cab to the airport together. That was the plan, and as far as he knew nothing was 'up'. Roman turned to look at him. "I just walked past her and Zee in the parking lot. She looked pretty upset. She didn't even say anything to me." Jon narrowed his eyes. Upset? That's not like her. "What were they doing out there?" he asked. Roman shrugged. "I thought you might know. He put her in a cab and it took off. She had her bag with her and everything." What the hell? Jon dropped the tape and rummaged through his bag for his phone. No messages or missed calls. "That's f-king weird," he said, while he began typing out a message to Claire. "That's what I thought," Roman said. "It looked like she was about to cry." Jon felt his chest contract a little. He'd not seen Claire cry. He never wanted to see that. Maybe someone died? Grandpa or Mrs Allen or something. Whatever it was, he needed to hear from her. He wanted to pull her close to him and tell her everything was going to be okay. Even though he didn't know what was wrong.
Before he could press send on the message, there was a knock at the door. He exchanged a look with Roman, who called for the guest to enter. Zane's head appeared around the corner. "Hey guys. Bit of a reshuffle, I'm afraid. You've got me tonight." He gave Roman a long look before turning to Jon. The look on his face made Jon feel uneasy. There was something in his eyes which felt judgmental. Almost challenging. Jon rolled his shoulders as an instinctive reflex, then winced at the ache. "Great," Zane said, tapping the clipboard in his hand. "We can use that injury. Those pictures of you from last night went off the charts. You guys good to go now?" he asked, looking between Jon and Roman. Other than the look in his eye, he certainly wasn't acting like anything unusual was happening, even though it was very rare for him to be arranging pictures and working off the script. There was no reason to not follow him out into the hallway.
As they walked, Jon looked at Roman, who had a questioning look fixed on the back of Zane's head. They rounded a couple of corners, and as they came around a third, Lucy ran full on into Zane. "Holy crap, Luce!" Zane shouted, picking his papers up off the ground. Lucy look flustered as she tried to regain her composure. She looked at Jon, her eyes wide and desperate. Her mouth hung open like she wanted to say something. She knows, he thought. She knows what's wrong with Claire. Zane interrupted his thoughts. "Where were you off to in such a rush, huh?" he asked her. His head turned slightly towards Jon before he continued. "Pretty sure you'll find Heath Slater that way," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders to steer her in the right direction. Lucy threw Jon a quick glance over her shoulder before Zane pushed her gently towards where she needed to be. "Sorry about that," he said casually. Roman looked at Jon, a sense of knowing in his eyes. I need to talk to her.
Once they'd finished with Zane, Jon told Roman he needed to talk to Lucy, and took off down the hallway he'd seen her disappear down. He looked down each corridor and through every open door. He saw every person on their team except her. He continued, noticing a few of the staff look at him for longer than usual. They probably think it's weird I'm powering around on a mission, he thought. Usually it's them hunting me down, not the other way around. Not that they knew who he was looking for. He'd kept his mouth shut. After a second loop of the corridors, he looked a TV screen. His match was in two segments; he needed to get ready. God Lucy. Always popping up when you're not wanted but now... He returned to his locker room, and checked his phone, hopeful Claire had made contact. Nothing. What the hell is going on? he asked himself, as he prepped himself for the match.
He met Roman in the corridor and they walked towards the backstage area. "Any luck?" Roman asked. Jon shook his head. "None. Nothing from Claire either." Roman lowered his voice. "It's not you, is it? You've not done anything?" Jon searched his brain. "I haven't done anything. And I don't think there's anything I've not done either," he said cautiously. Claire was happy and upbeat when they'd said goodbye last night, if only a bit concerned about his injury. Nothing in her text that morning was out of the ordinary. She was too busy to see him before leaving the hotel but said she'd find him at the venue. He had taken it on face value; there had been no reason not to. He replayed their time together last night in his head. Maybe I said something I shouldn't have? Maybe this is my fault? Chicks overreact about all sorts of shit. But not Claire. That's part of what made her different. She's got her shit together. He tried to shake it from her mind. "Anyway bro, I'll see you out there," Roman said, placing one hand on his shoulder and holding the other out in a fist. Jon nodded, and touched his fist to Roman's. "Let's bring it," he said, trying to sound more together than he was feeling.
Jon heard Brock's music hit. He slapped himself gently on each cheek a few times, jumped up and down on the spot, trying to get his head in the game. He fell to the ground and pumped out some press ups. He found comfort in getting the blood moving around his body. This was routine and familiar; his body was doing its best to distract his mind, to help him get into character. Roman's music played through the venue. He rolled his wrists, took a swig of water. Twenty minutes. Just drop it for twenty minutes. Do your job. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feet fast approaching. He turned to see Lucy running towards him. Shit, now? He took a step towards her. "In ten words or less, what the hell is going on? Has someone died? Why is she not here?" Lucy looked panicked. "No, no one's died. Has she not been in contact with you?" Exasperated, Jon threw his water bottle to the floor. "Do I look like I know what's going on? I've not heard a thing. Tell me. Fast." Lucy took a big breath, and spoke quickly. "We were in the team meeting talking about the house show allocations and things got tense. Carl got angry and he yelled..." She trailed off. He yelled what? Jon followed her eye line. She'd spotted Zane walking into the room. She took a step back from him, just as the loud sound of a chainsaw filled the building. One of the stage crew called his name, beckoning him quickly. Shit. He leaned towards Lucy. "Do not go anywhere" he said, with more bitterness than intended. He ran up the stairs towards the curtain, and stepped out on to the stage. He felt the crowd roar for him, but it didn't make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as usual. He shook his head vigorously to try and compose himself. Thank god Ambrose can get away with doing pretty much anything. He made his way to the ring, rolling his sore shoulder a few times. When he met with Roman across the canvas, Roman held out both his fists, their usual on-camera greeting. "You alright?" he asked over the crowd noise. Jon nodded, sure to stay in character. "Focus, okay?" Roman continued. "You can't do anything about it from here. So be here, okay?" Jon nodded. I'm here. Dean Ambrose is here.
/
Their segment had closed the show, and Jon had to lie crumpled next to the ring steps until the cameras stopped rolling. While he exaggerated his pained face, his shoulder did hurt. He wondered where Claire was. Is she still expecting to ride to the airport with me? He waited for Brock and Heyman to exit the ramp before pushing up off the stairs to his feet. He threw Roman a look, needing to remain in character until they got backstage. Ordinarily, he'd high five a few fans on the way out, maybe take a few selfies and sign a few autographs. But tonight, he was not in the mood. He was thankful Ambrose hadn't been triumphant and in a celebratory mood. Roman hung back, however. He had a fan base to win over, and didn't have Claire to worry about.
He pulled back the curtain and rushed down the stairs. A few people hurried towards him; one handed him a towel and a water bottle, one was a camera for a backstage segment, and the other was Zane. Jon felt a spike of frustration. He didn't know what had happened but whatever it was, he had to be a key player, considering the way Lucy was behaving around him. Zane ordered him to stand back against a wall holding his shoulder, and Jon followed his instruction without saying a word. He gave Zane a long look before taking off towards his locker room. I'm going to find out what's going on, and if you're behind upsetting her, you better watch your back.
He opened the door to his locker room and jumped when he saw Lucy sitting across from him. "Holy shit," he said, recovering from the fright. He hadn't been expecting to see her in there. He slammed the door behind him, hoping the noise would discourage anyone else from knocking. "Now. No interruptions. What is going on?" He watched as Lucy swallowed, seemingly nervous. It wasn't like her to be shy of speaking up. She was wiggling her fingers back and forth in her hand anxiously. "Look, I don't know what happened. All I know is in front of everyone, Carl blurted out she was sleeping with you, and Zane ordered everyone else out of the room. Next I saw he was escorting her from the venue." Jon felt his heart rate increase rapidly. F—k. F—k f—k f—k. He couldn't put together any coherent thoughts. All he could compute is that this was bad. Lucy continued. "She won't reply to my texts. I don't know what Zee said, but she looked rattled when I saw her." She started saying something about how she called Claire's cellphone, and their hotel room, but Jon had stopped listening. He closed his eyes and tried to catch up the multitude of things that had flooded into his mind. The sound of his rapid breathing grew louder inside his head. He could feel a heated anger building in his throat. That dirty piece of shit. He threw his towel against the wall and turned on his heel, throwing the door open and storming out of the room.
Jon's thoughts hadn't even turned to Claire. Where she was or what she was doing. He was simply blinded by rage towards Carl. He knew exactly what would've happened, he had pieced it all together. Claire would've been praised, Carl would've been criticised, and in a fit of jealousy, he'd have deliberately revealed their relationship in the hope of ruining Claire's advancement. He opened and closed his hands into fists as he walked around the hallways. He didn't stop to acknowledge anyone he passed. He stomped towards the door to the parking lot, hoping Carl hadn't yet left. He peered into the luggage room, which proved to be empty. He opened the door to the parking lot, seeing some of the roster heading towards their vehicles. He huffed under his breath, and worked his way back through the corridors. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of Carl's back, rounding a corner. Jon increased his pace, walking so quickly he was almost jogging, and turned behind Carl, taking a quickl look ahead to see if anyone was approaching from the other direction.
"What the hell have you done, asshole?" he said curtly. Carl spun around in surprise, locking eyes with him. A buzz went through Jon's body as he saw the fear run into Carl's eyes. Damn straight you're afraid, boy. Carl's eyes shifted quickly and he turned to walk away. Jon grabbed his wrist and shoved him firmly against the wall, feeling his body bounce off the cold concrete. He held his wrist tightly, and leaned in close to his face. "I know what you did. And I know why you did it." Jon spat the words out, feeling his pulse thump in throat. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't rearrange your face." Carl's eyes were wide, and he was leaning against the wall as tight as possible, trying to create as much space between him and Jon as he could. Jon saw his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallowed. "Because you'd get fired," Carl finally said, his cracking voice giving away his fear, despite his brash words. Jon felt a smirk rise on his face. He leaned closer. "I am 100% sure they would get rid of you before they got rid of me, boy. You're a commodity. You're replaceable. And you're threatened by someone who does your job better than you. I see right through you. Don't forget I've made a career out of being an asshole, so I know one when I see one." He took a deep breath and strengthened his grip on Carl's wrist. "Listen to me," he said, his voice deep and rough. "I swear to god, if anything, anything, happens to Claire as a result of your little outburst, I will personally ensure that every bone in your face is broken. " He let Carl's wrist go, throwing it against the wall. He could see him shaking, and continued to stare him in the eye. He took a step back, slowly, and then another, in time with his big, long breaths. With the space, Carl found his courage and his voice. "That is a threat. This is workplace bullying," he said, again with a quiver in his voice. Jon's face remained steeled as he leaned closer to him. "Here's a news flash for you: I do not give f—k," he said, slowly and calmed. "Stay away from Claire, and stay the hell out of my way. You're damn right that's a threat." He flicked Carl's hat off his head on to the floor, then turned to walk away. He closed his eyes, letting out a long exhale, and made his way back towards his locker room.
I've got to talk to Claire.