The week had taken it's toll, and finally... it was Saturday.
Their house was officially empty, the for sale sign was stuck into the gront gate, and they were finally parting ways from the house that held tons of memories. They were staying at a hotel tonight, to save the trouble of keeping the beds in the house, that way everything was packed away and on it's way to the new house.
Punks mom and sister had came over for the dogs to take some ease off of Punk and AJ. It was hard enough hauling the twins through the aiport, but two dogs as well? It seemed impossible.
But right now, he wasn't thinking of the house, or his dogs, or even his children. His head was in fight mode. The madness had commenced. The weigh ins, the pre conference, it was all done and dusted. Now it was time to fight.
He sat in his dressing room, AJ sat on the opposite couch with the twins beside her, running her hands through Heidi's hair while they played on their DS's, trading games and settling down for the night. It was the first fight they had ever witnessed, never mind their first fathers fight. He had butterflies, he hadn't felt this excited way in so long.
"Knock knock..." Dean and Seth trailed through the dressing room, Punks head shooting up as he sat in his shorts with his sweater on, giving a small smile up to Dean and Seth, clasped hands in front of him while he thought deeply. He guessed he was just thinking about everything. How wonderful a career he'd had. How it actually felt right to be leaving now.
"Phil..." AJ stood up, "I think we're going to get out there." AJ said as Punk nodded. She figured he'd need some time alone with Dean and Seth. She'd gave him all the support she could, now it was all up to him.
"Ok." Punk stood up with a smile, watching the twins hop off the couch with a smile, running towards him, racing each other to wish him good luck like their mother had told them to.
"Good luck, daddy." Dylan smiled while Heidi pitched in, standing beside her brother as Punk crouched down to them.
"Thanks... but..." He tilted Heidi's chin up with a smile, rubbing Dylan's hair playfully, "Luck is for losers." He told them as they looked to him with confusion. They'd catch on one day, and hopefully grasp the concept of the phrase he lived by.
The twins went on and waited by the door while AJ gave her husband a hug, having been here many times before, only... this time it meant so much more. It had been a long time coming, and a long time ending.
"I know you'll be fine, but... be careful." She smiled up at him as he rolled his eyes, "I love you." She whispered, her arms wrapped around his neck as he smiled.
"I love you too." He said, pressing a soft, gentle kiss on her lips, watching her walk away, holding her hand until the grasp they had at each other broke and she had disappeared out of the room with the twins. It was a matter of minutes now.
"You ready?" Dean asked Punk who looked in the mirror, staring deeply at his reflection. He was still standing. Miraculously. This time, around six years ago, this was all his life was, and he thought it was all his life would be. But he really had grasped the real meaning of life, and how valuable it really was. He'd seen it all, done it all, made mistakes, terrible and unforgivable mistakes, but here he was, back where it all started.
"Yeah." He nodded, pulling his hood on his sweater up over his head, tearing away from the mirror and out of the dressing room with Dean and Seth behind him, the camera's following him as he walked through the backstage halls to get to the main entrance area. It was time.
He bounced on the balls of his feet, the loud music booming in his ears, the sound of the loud crowd going crazy behind the curtains he stood at. He was terrified that his mistakes would have changed the way the crowd reacted to him.
He was going out tonight, and he was going to give the fight of his life. He was going out of this place with a bang. He wanted to be rememebred. Respected. And that was hard when he had done such stupid things.
"Ok, you're up." A member of staff backstage patting him on the back as he took a deep breath, Dean and Seth behind him with some other trainers he trained with. This was it. It was go time. It was time to end this past year of returning to normality. To shut out all the hard times and look back at them with pride. To remember the things he had lost and gained. To keep in his mind the poor boy he had the pleasure of knowing in his first week in prison, to keep in his mind the daughter he never got to hold, or kiss, or talk to. To keep in his mind how hard it had been to fit back into his life again. Because that was his journey. This was what he was ending, and moving on from.
He took baby steps, taking his two hands and parting the curtains, walking out with the world on his shoulders, looking around at all the flashing lights, the deafening response to his return. He hadn't lost it. Of course he hadn't. He was way too powerful to be disrespected. No matter what he had done.
He got only time he had ever gotten goosebumps, was his first fight. He guessed it was rather appropriate from that perspective. In a way, he was upset, but he was also over the moon that he still had so much support from so many amazing fans. This one was for them.
After taking his time to the ring, soaking in the arena and how wonderful it felt to be back in his second home, he looked around at ringside, scanning through the people in their seats, waiting with anticipation, spotting his wife and children in the corner. Heidi was curled into her mother, no doubt a little taken back by the noise and flashing lights, but Dylan was looking around with fascination, swinging his legs back and forth on his seat and looking over at his father. He hoped his son would be moved by boxing the way he was. If not, that was fine too.
"Alright you two." The referee for the match pulled in Punk and Remen to the center, "I want a clean fight. You know the rules. Touch gloves if you want. But let's get this started." He said as Punk looked Remen in the eye.
"I ain't touching your gloves, Brooks." Remen shook his head as Punk laughed.
"I can't hear you from all the chants!" Punk yelled with a smirk, swelling with pride at the Punk chants filled through the arena, turning his head and looking around, taking this image in and never letting it go.
They separated from the middle, going to their corners to get their gum shields and pep talk from their coaches and trainers. Punk was beyond the stage of that though. He was his own coach. He was ready to go.
The bell rang, the final time it would ever ring to start a fight for him. They both wasted no time in getting into it. He took some hard hitting punches, but he also gave out some. Overall, the first round was pretty even in his defense. It was back and forth. He gave a punch, he'd recieve one. He was just getting comfortable. Loosening up his rusty hinges from being away from the beloved sport for so long.
Whenever he parted after the round to go to his corner, he'd turn to look at his wife and children. They were the only motivation he could ever get. The whole place was nuts. He felt like the ring was shaking with how loud it was. He'd never seen anything like it in his life.
Round two he fell short. He stumbled a few times, got caught up in a variety of swift hooks to the side of his head, but he was still sturdy on his feet, adimant that he would not go down.
Round three, four and five came and gone too, and they were finally on to round six. He was tired, but he was hanging in there. He was bleeding, so was Remen. But everyone expected it. They always put on a brutal fight.
He hadn't planned or wished for it, but they had went all the way to round twelve. Collapsed in his corner, he sat on the small stool, trainers rushing around him to make sure he was ok and comfortable, holding ice against his colourful chest and soaking him with water. He was exhausted. He wasn't a spring chicken anymore.
It was the last round, and he didn't want to go to unanymous decision. Especially when this fight would be forever remembered. He wanted a clean knock out.
"You have to dodge those left hooks, he's going to catch you out." Dean told Punk as he nodded with an exhausted gasp, lip swollen, eye black, nose bleeding. He looked like shit. Of course he did. But it had been a nasty fight, and a very memorable fight.
He turned to his other side, and to his surprise, he seen AJ climbing through the bottom rope, making her way in front of him as he sat up.
"Hey." She smiled, "You ok?" She chuckled, dabbing his lip with a wet cloth softly.
"What are you doing? You shouldn't be in here." He shook his head.
"Look... I know how much you want this fight to end without a predicted decision. I just... I want you to focus." She cupped his cheeks as he stared into her eyes, "Close your eyes." She said as he shut his eyes over, "Pretend there's no one here." She said as he tried his best to blank out the loud crowd and flashing lights, the soft palms of her hands comforting his cheeks felt amazing.
"Just think about everything we've gone through. Think about Jeremy, what he done to me, what you done to him, think about prison, how awful it was, how terrified you were..." She said, not knowing where she was going with this from his perspective, "Think about coming out, and Heidi being terrified of you, think about Rachel, and knowing how hard that was to come to terms with." She said, "Now open your eyes." She told him as he had thought about all of the things she'd asked, opening his eyes and looking back at her, "You're ok now. Everything is ok. Just... use all of that, all the strength you have to have gotten through everything, to end this fight. So we can go home, with our children, with our baby." She smiled as he smiled sweetly, "I love you... so much." She said, pressing a kiss on his cheek while he sat speechless, watching her leave the ring, Dean helping her down and back into the crowd.
"Round twelve." The referree called as Punk stood up, shaking his shoulders to loosen the stifness that had been created from sitting around.
And he done what his wife had told him. He took the strength he had used to get through everything he had, and he lashed it out. Right, left, right left. Over and over again, until finally, Remen collapsed, out cold, flat on his back.
He leaned against the ropes as the referee started to count. He looked over at Dean and Seth, jumping around in his corner like the children they were. Then he looked to AJ, who sat on the edge of her seat, hands clasped in front of her mouth. And the twins, who were looking on with her.
"Stay down!" He yelled, blood pouring from his mouth as he looked at Remen who was completely out of it.
If he thought it was loud when he had entered the arena, there was nothing compared to the noise that was created when the referee reached ten, the verdict of the fight...
"And your winner by knock out... Phil Brooks!" The announcer roared as the crowd cheered, so loud it sent Punk to his knees in awe in the center of the ring, looking around with a lump in his throat, not sure if he ever wanted to leave this place really. He knew he would. But it was hard. He wasn't really leaving. His legacy. His career. It would go on forever.
Kings never died.
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