Chapter 53: Do It Now, Remember It Later

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: DO IT NOW, REMEMBER IT LATER BY SLEEPING WITH SIRENS

Oh my, don't they hate to see us try?

One awkward, unusual confrontation with what turned out to be nothing more than a scared, confused Tomasso Ciampa, and life was looking up. Just another guy manipulated by, surprise, surprise, Paul Heyman. I sat down with the kid and he told me everything, and I found none of it surprising. Paul made him feel like he'd never get out of the Indies unless he did everything Paul told him to. I explained how Paul could never get to him now, and he seemed incredibly relieved. Upon leaving the basement, I've become good at reading people, and he was telling the truth. And now, if you'll allow me to interrupt my recollection with a quick real-time update, for those skeptics, [for the love of all that is good, I'm working to accommodate people who don't exist. Just when I thought my mental health was in order.] Over a year later, Tomasso hasn't laid a hand on me and continues to enjoy success in ROH.

Demetri was right about a lot of things, and I consider him to be a real stroke of luck, but he was wrong about Tomasso being a bad apple.

He's a little strange, no doubt, but he's a good guy.

come on say what you think,

I lean against a wall in gorilla and mull the whole thing over again. What kind of reception will I get? What has everyone heard about it? Are they angry I've been gone? I can't think of a better angle to come back to. In Chicago too! A huge part of me says they went to the trouble because of all the shit I've been through.

it won't mean a thing,

But after being gone for so long, where else would they have me come back?I take another deep breath. I don't think I've ever been so nervous about being in front of a crowd. Especially not an ordinary RAW. But this isn't just an ordinary RAW. The foundation of my confidence has been shaken like an earthquake, and everything is different now.

in the end we're gonna be just fine.

Breathe.

It's an empty slot in the card, they haven't announced my coming back and the crowd is probably expecting another match from the announced card. They've been chanting my name sporadically since I left, especially when AJ is out there, but that's different than being face to face with them. What if they change their minds? Everyone's done great keeping this under wraps. I just hope I can deliver… and keep it together.

We'll stare straight-faced, don't hesitate, see, why would we want to make you bastards wait?

I take role of potential problems. Randal is back here somewhere, and I think if I see him before I go out I'll lose it. I know Randal has been champ the whole time that I've been gone. And I know he's having a title unification match at TLC against Cena. And I know he's booked to win it. Which means that the self-righteous asshole will be parading around here like he's king of the mountain just because he's a world champion ass-kisser. I know I'm going to have to deal with that mess sooner or later, but I'm picking later because I have a thousand other things on my mind right now. Brock isn't here. Pompous bastard works about three days a year. Forgiven or not, he's still a pompous bastard. Glenn doesn't worry me. I stand by my word that he didn't know what he was doing, he's apologized on multiple occasions. He's a good guy, really.

My stomach is in my throat.

Breathe.

I flip the hood up on a zip-up sweatshirt they gave me. I take it for granted sometimes, all the stuff they do for me. McMahon is still an asshole who hates my guts and doesn't care about my well-being. But they've pumped out brand new merch for me the day I come back. It's got my signature fist holding a lighting bolt with the Illinois flag stars in bright yellow on the front, and it says "Best Since 2005" on the back, the 00 in 2005 being the same Illinois stars. I put on my boots and kick pads earlier today and it felt almost foreign, but at the same time, right. I'm not wrestling tonight but I have a little scuff and I'm happy to welcome back my old friends. I'm on for TLC in a program with one of my dream opponents. I feel better just wearing them again. They meet black athletic shorts at my knees. I stare at the yellow stars for a while, until I hear the TV static that signals my entrance theme. I wait a split second before walking out to meet my first WWE crowd in months.

Thank god, I got this chance, now I can say, so now we'll say, we'll say, we're gonna do what we want!

It gets my heart pounding out of my chest, to hear the deafening roar of these people, who haven't forgotten me, haven't stopped loving me. I kneel down and rub two fingers against the ground, shaking them out and holding my wrist to my ear.

Breathe.

I allow myself to go into autopilot as I have done this part a million times. "IT'S CLOBBERING TIME!" I yell as I get up, and take my hood off, turning around and holding my arms out to my sides. I walk backwards a couple steps before turning back, then climb the steps and up the ropes to each corner, holding my hands up and screaming ,"BEST IN THE WORLD!" After I'm done with my little ritual, I lean over the ropes to get a microphone from a tech around the timekeeper's area. I sit down in the middle of the ring and turn off my autopilot. Now comes the hard part. I fall all the way down on my back and keep my legs crossed, just staring up at the lights and soaking up Chicago's welcome back. Jeff's right, I think, smiling to myself, I am a hometown boy, through and through.

Remember when they said that what we want could never be done?

I wait for it to calm down enough that they won't drown me out. "So I take it you guys missed me a little?" They start a loud "CM Punk" chant. I get up to a sitting position and shake my head. Holding the mic up to my mouth, I tap the mat with my other hand. "It's been a while, hasn't it? You guys still make it feel like home. Feels good to be back in my ring." Smiling, I remind myself that this was the reason I got myself better.

Breathe.

No turning back.

They quiet down a little as my expression grows serious. "I'm sure you've heard a lot of talk as far as the reasons why I've been gone so long. Some of it probably seems pretty ridiculous, or bizarre, but that weird stuff is probably the closest to the truth out of everything you've been told. But I'm here to set all of it straight."

When it all comes crashing down, we'll do what we want to, said we'll do what we want to yeah.

"You guys know me by now, you know I'm not going to make my words 'soft and sweet' because I don't care if I have to eat them later. You people deserve the truth, and I need to say it, because I'm tired of living in fear of this and I'm tired of letting them win. You guys know that I'm not perfect, I F' up and make mistakes. But I'm man enough to admit to it, and you know, you can't erase the truth. So I'm here to offer you the true story, before anyone else feeds you more BS. There are certain people in the back who did some stuff to me… some sick, twisted, sadistic stuff. I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of hearing me address them by name on television. What I can say is that my 'best friend'," I make air quotes with my fingers, "Paul Heyman and my boss, the lovely Triple H wanted to…" I trail off and stare at the mat, trying to keep my composure and searching for the right words. I look back out into the audience, to be met with complete silence and people attached to my every word.

Breathe.

"Let's just say they wanted to hurt me. Really, really hurt me. Bad. They're both nutcases, let's just be clear on that." I get some nervous laughter. "But really that's just stating the obvious. Here's where it gets real, though. The night of my Best vs. Beast match at Summer Slam, the last time you saw me, I was jumped in the hallway of my hotel in Los Angeles. Which is how I ended up in a basement in a random house somewhere in California. I was kept there for a week. Do you guys by any chance know of a guy name of Jeff Hardy?" The mention of his name alone stirs the place into a frenzy. Jeff's name is almost as taboo as Benoit's, he's hardly ever mentioned around here anymore. I'd get in major trouble for it, but they promised me open mic and I intend to make the most of it. Warms my heart to see his rabid following hasn't dissipated in his absence. "Well you might've heard that he's been out for a while. But I bet you're thinking 'CM Punk, you hate Jeff Hardy, what do you care if he's out or not?' Right? Not quite. Jeff and I have actually been close friends for a long time. So why don't you know that? The 'powers that be'," I look to the ceiling and wave my hands in the air, "aren't real pleased with him. So they couldn't know we were friends. Which means you couldn't know we were friends. But getting back to the point, our main form of contact was on the phone, because we couldn't have other people figuring it out. So I've called him just about every day since the beginning of time."

Remember when they said that what we want could never be done?

"But believe it or not, I couldn't call him when I was locked up in a basement. He thought something was up and came looking for me, and he ended up getting locked up too. Like I said, they've got their own vendetta against him. So the whole goal of taking me captive was to mess with me on a mental as well as a physical level." I run a hand through my hair, pausing for a minute on the uneven plane that resulted from the staples they had to put in my head.

Well look who's laughing now!

"And they did. That's a major reason why I've been gone so long. It's hard to express just what went down there and how it felt, but if you want to really get your head wrapped around it, take this into consideration." I take a deep breath and get to my feet, leaving the mic on the ground. I chew absently at my lip ring and tug the zipper of my jacket down, taking it off and leaving it on the mat. There are audible gasps all around me and I pick the mic pack up. I run my fingers around the white ridges that make up the faint word "WEAK" in scars on my midsection.

We'll do what we want to, said we'll do what we want to yeah.

They're even worse on my back, standing up purple in long slashes that stretch all the way across. Those aren't even close to being gone. I'll have to wrestle with them for a long ass time, but it doesn't really matter. It'll give the heels something to target in promos anyway. I see shock and horror, expressions that mirror those of my friends a couple months ago. "So I'll let you use your imagination as to how I got these. Bear in mind that similar crap happened to Jeff. That, I think, was the worst part. It wasn't what they did to me physically, it was how they used us against each other. By that I mean that they'd hurt Jeff to screw with my head and they'd hurt me to screw with Jeff's." I start pacing the ring slowly. "Damn, this is hard." CM Punk chants rise up again and I grin at them. "Thanks, you guys." You've gotta keep going, I tell myself. This is your one chance to set the record straight with them. "I honestly have no earthly idea of how long they intended on keeping us there or how they planned on covering it up, but it turned out I didn't have to. That's because these jerk-offs tried to mess with the wrong guy. That guy, along with a handful of other guys in the back got us out of there. I'm forever in that guy's debt, that's all you have to know about that. I don't play well with others though, and they are not by any means my friends. I don't have friends and I don't want or need them. So I was gone all this time to rehab physically and emotionally. But I'm back," I slip back into kayfabe as simple as falling asleep, "to prove to those jerks that they did not win. I'm back because, to be honest with you, there isn't a person in this world who should let a past nightmare dictate or cloud their future dreams."

We'll do what we want, right now!

"And, you know, I might've missed you guys too, just a little. Now all of that being said, I'm sure now that I'm back I've got a nice big bull's-eye on my messed up back. Maybe there's people who don't think I can back up all my talk anymore. Or that I'm weaker now than I was before. Or that I'm an easy target. Everyone is telling me I shouldn't come back."

come on, come on, with or without you.

"That I'm too hurt, that I'm mentally scarred, that I'm done, that I'll never wrestle again. One of my personal favorites was 'Punk, you're too scarred up, no one's gonna want to look at you anymore.' Nothing will stop me from doing this, because this is what I love to do. All you people, the ones telling me I suck, the ones cheering for me, these lights that are always trying to blind me, this ring with the gallons of sweat absorbed in it, the locker room where everyone hates me, this microphone that always seems to get me in trouble, we all know how I feel about Chicago." I laugh. "All of it."

We will never regret that,

"There's nowhere I'd rather be. There's nothing I like more in the world than hearing someone tell me I can't do something. Because then I get the all too wonderful chance to say 'watch me'." I shrug. "But I could be wrong. God knows it's happened before. Perhaps I'm just ripe for the picking? Do you people think CM Punk is down for the count? Have you ever, in the ten years you guys have been stuck with me, seen me go down without a fight?" I raise my voice as I get more excited. "It's gonna take a hell of a lot more than that to keep CM Punk down, Paul! You'll have to run me over with a car to get rid of me, Hunter! It—"

"Sierra, Hotel, India, Echo, Lima, Delta… SHIELD." I get a good shocked expression on my face, mixing "I'm fucked" with "I'm not backing down". Reigns, Rollins and Ambrose, respectively, make their way down the stairs in the crowd, taking their time with arrogant smirks on their faces. I keep some shaky confidence as I pick up my sweatshirt and throw it into the audience. I stay within vicinity of a corner so I can back into it when this gets started. They each come up on one side of the ring, meeting in the middle and backing me up a step. Seth looks at his teammates smugly.

"We think this is all very touching, Punk."

don't you cross the line, don't you cross that line.

Roman speaks next.

"The Shield realizes that you were at some point one tough hombre, whether you still are is up for debate. Problem is, man, sometimes you let this," he points to his chest, "get in the way of this." He taps his temple, then crosses his huge arms across his chest. Dean slowly walks towards me, forcing me a couple more steps back. I put up my fists and get into a tentative defensive position. He taps the plastic box with the WWE logo on it that holds the mic with his finger and leans close to me.

"Don't go getting it in that little smartass head of yours that anyone is gonna take it easy on you in light of any of that crap you were complaining about. Especially us." Seth stalks over to us as well. He sticks out his bottom lip and makes a mock sad face.

"Poor baby." Roman closes the gap and they're now all dangerously close to me.

"We've been waiting over four months for you to get your ass back here." Ambrose's face clouds over as his tone turns serious.

"Just because you're crippled emotionally and physically does not excuse you from justice." I laugh halfheartedly as I back all the way into the turnbuckles behind me.

"What 'injustice'," I say it like it's ridiculous, "could I possibly have committed? I haven't been here in months, remember?"

We'll stare straight-faced, don't hesitate.

Ambrose aggressively gets up in my face, inches away from me. When he speaks it's low and predatorial, and he eyes me like a piece of meat. It makes me shiver involuntary. The guy is so intense.

"First of all, do not interrupt me." His voice is eerily calm, but there's a definite threat of danger in his tone. He traces his fingers along the white ridges that make up the scars across my abdomen. I make a face, conveying that it's uncomfortable but I'm not in a position to jump on him for it. "But you're exactly right, Punk. Exactly right. You've left the entire WWE high and dry for months while you attempted to clean up the train wreck that has become your life." I let anger come into my expression and my eyes widen, my fists clenching at my sides.

"You had be—" I'm stopped short by his open hand striking my face.

See, why would we want to make you bastards wait?

I drop my mic and go after him with forearm shots and one roundhouse kick before I'm planted on the ground by a standing enziguri from Seth. They proceed to put the boots to me until Ambrose calls them off above me. I blink slowly and try to get up but my equilibrium is messed up now. Before I know it Reigns and Rollins have picked me back up to my knees and they hold me there while Ambrose picks his mic back up. I fight feebly but a hard hitting right hand from Roman quells my efforts. Ambrose leans down to eye level with me.

"What did I tell you about interrupting me, Punk?" I pick my head up and glare at him with rage and frustration. Chicago is booing up a storm but the adrenaline of being out here again pumping in my ears drowns them out. "Now if you'll let me finish… you never gave any sort of explanation to us," he motions to his fellow Shield brethren, "or them," he points to the Universe, "during that time. All anybody ever talked about was 'Where's CM Punk?' You weren't here for months and yet they still care more about you than workhorses like me, my brothers, Dolph Ziggler, Tyson Kidd or anyone else who's been working their asses off while you're off playing 'damsel in distress' with Jeff Hardy. That," he points his finger in my chest and I try to lunge at him, only to be yanked back by Rollins and Reigns, "is injustice. We, as I'm sure you know by now, are a Shield against injustice. And we're going to make you pay." It starts with the pair of them throwing me back to the mat, then they're suddenly on me like a pack of dogs. I hold up my arms in an effort to cover up, but it does next to nothing. Every time I try to get up it's met with a combat boot, and I never even see whose it is. They're masters at the three-on-one assault, and they've always made it look really good. I told them not to hold back, and I wanted it to look as real as possible. If that means I end up getting the hell beat out of me for real, so be it. It'd be far from the first time that's happened. They go all out with a Dirty Deeds, pause for me to get up, Spear, pause for me to get on my hands and knees, Curbstomp. My ears ring after, those kids have a hell of a finish. They're not done yet either. Dean and Seth's hands bringing me back to my knees and a huge scream from Reigns signals a triple powerbomb is on the way. They lift me on his shoulders and slam me down with an intensity unmatched by any other team I've ever witnessed. As I lean over so I'm face down on the mat, I sell unresponsive/knocked out, but I want to laugh, do ring-angels, something! This is wrestling, man! This is all I've ever known. This has been my life since I was seventeen!

Thank god, I got this chance,

And regardless of what Hunter and Paul took from me, they can't take this. I'm comfortable in my own skin for the first time in months. Being in front of thousands of people, doing the one thing I love, the only thing I loved for a long time, until April came around. There's nothing like it. The rush is incomparable. I love these people for loving me, even when I didn't love myself. I love them for putting up with my shit. I love them for cheering me while I bore my soul tonight. I love all the people who stopped their booing for ten seconds at home and actually listened to me. I love them for keeping an open mind, for being able to step back and remember that it's a show, and actually believe me when I tell them what happened. These people, who don't even know me, supported me when my own friend turned his back and tried to destroy me. Life works in mysterious ways. Ambrose picks up the microphone that fell from his hands during the attack and starts pacing the ring. "I didn't want to do it, Punk! We were friends, we helped you, you turned your back on us, you left us for dead, you forced our hand! Why'd you make us do it?!" He screams, bordering lunacy. I smile into the mat. It's so funny to me, the way our business works. This guy, standing victorious above me with his little 'thug' friends, ranting like a madman, they all think he hates me for leaving, when in reality, I'd still be gone if not for him. When in reality, Dean rescued me in my darkest hour. When in reality, Dean dragged me out of hell when my on-screen 'best friend' put me there in the first place. The crowd, aside from the smarks, would never believe that the men determined to be my 'undoing' are the ones who stopped it. In short, Dean saved my life, even though he's now acting as if he wants to end it.

now I can say,

Oh, wrestling.

so now we'll say,

You crazy bastard.

we'll say,

Finally, all this crazy anxiety has subsided.

we're gonna do what we want!

Look at me, Hunter, look at me, Paul, get it through your thick skulls that nothing you do will keep me down. Things don't always work out the way you want them to. That doesn't mean the way they work out is wrong. Maybe this all happened for a reason. Maybe I needed to prove it to myself that I'm actually what I say I am. Maybe it took being stripped of everything to find out what I really had. Maybe this is what I needed. Maybe before I can really live, I needed to die. So I've done that. Somehow, I feel better than ever. Maybe a little less trusting, maybe a little more damaged. But more down to earth. I'm closer to who I want to be, and after all, isn't that what life is about? It's the journey, not the destination, that's what they say. My journey sucked, but I won the war. Everything comes full circle in the end. Who's panicking now?

«««««»»»»»

Remember when they said that what we want could never be done? When it all comes crashing down, we'll do what we want to, said we'll do what we want to yeah.

Well it isn't me.

I know that when I think back to all the bad things that have happened to me in my lifetime, this will be at the top of the list. I still can't wear a belt. I still flinch when Glenn comes near me. I still get nervous when I have to work a match with Randal. I can't use thumbtacks. What I could do, rather easily, is throw a giant pity party and think of everything I lost, and feel really bad for myself. But where would that even get me? Instead, I prefer to look at everything as a lesson. So, what did I learn from this? I made a list while I wrote this, and I pasted it to the bottom.

That which does not kill me can only make me stronger.

Friendship transcends hardship.

It's okay to trust someone else more than I trust myself.

Just because someone betrayed me once doesn't mean everyone will.

I don't have to do everything on my own.

The only thing that can overcome hate is love.

Forgiving, and being forgiven, is the kind of joy I didn't know existed.

People make mistakes.

Focusing on the positive makes it easier to forget the negative.

People aren't always who they seem to be/ who they say they are.

I'm stronger than I give myself credit for.

Strength means standing up, standing tall, and sticking to my guns. But it also means keeping my emotions in check, myself under control, my pride at bay and knowing my own limitations.

It doesn't matter what people say about me as long as I know who I am.

Wrestling has always been there for me and will always be there for me.

It's okay not to trust someone as long as I have a reason.

There's no substitute for a strong spirit and a thick skin.

Unrealistic expectations lead to disappointment.

Set attainable goals, and know what qualifies as attainable.

There's just no good left in some people. Know how to recognize that.

The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies. It creates enemies, though, and lights a fierce fire in you to exterminate those enemies. USE THAT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE!

Backstabbers are only powerful when my back is turned.

Hope is only lost if I let it go.

It's okay to accept compliments, and it's okay to believe them.

Giving up doesn't always mean I'm weak. It means I'm strong enough to let go, and confident enough to admit that I'm not always right.

Victory is so much sweeter when I achieve it after suffering defeat time and again.

Life isn't black and white. There's a lot of gray area.

Revenge is ugly. It's so easy to just hate someone. It's so much harder to forgive.

Strength comes in many different forms.

As long as I have my friends, my family, I'm never truly alone.

I'm lucky to have friends that I can count on to help me no matter what the circumstance.

My shortcomings do not define me.

32. I need to take a page out of Hardy's book and live life to the fullest.

So what does all this mean? What's even the point of this whole damn thing, which I've spent over a year finishing? There's something final about writing things down. It's like a confirmation, that they aren't just thoughts in your head, they actually happened and that's actually how you feel about it. That's seriously it, Punk? Not exactly… I'll tell you why. Maybe this knowledge will help you, like it helped me. Maybe someone will learn something from those two insurgents with a distaste for authority and an inability to surrender. What did I accomplish from writing this God forsaken epic? Something priceless. The most important thing I learned from this experience.

NEVER LET PANIC TAKE OVER. YOU ARE IN CHARGE OF YOUR OWN DESTINY. NEVER FORGET YOUR PAST, BUT DO NOT LET IT CONTROL YOUR FUTURE.

I really do hope that Hunter and Paul read this. I don't know how they would, but they do all kinds of shit they shouldn't be able to do. Guess what, you guys? I took this shitty fucking thing you did to me, and I turned it into something valuable. So I'm gonna keep doing me, and I'm sure someone is doing you in prison. Hey, don't drop the soap, guys. As the good man Ivan Moody once said, C'est la vie, adios, good riddance, fuck you.

And just in case you were wondering, I didn't survive without leaving a piece of myself in that hellhole.

Because I'm not a survivor.

I'm a fighter.

And this battle doesn't stand a chance.

Remember when they said that what we want could never be done? Well look who's laughing now! We'll do what we want to, said we'll do what we want to yeah.

A/N: Ivan Moody is the vocalist for heavy metal band Five Finger Death Punch. This quote is from their song Under and Over It.

A/N: Can't believe I'm saying this, but this is the end, you guys. Thank you for taking this journey with me. I've learned so much from all of you. I can't even begin to describe how you've changed my life. Thank you to Deb, for being my mentor through all of this. Thank you Angelina, for sticking with me and helping me build confidence. Thank you for not making me more uncomfortable than I already am in my own skin. This experience has changed my life, and I am so incredibly grateful for all the chances I've had to grow as a writer and as a person. Thank you for allowing me to share my passion with the world. Thank you for allowing me to infiltrate your imagination for 15 minutes a night. I worked my ass off to write this, thank you for making me feel like it was worth it, for encouraging me and making me smile. I hope I can be a writer that you all can be proud of. I have more stories in the works, so keep your eyes peeled.

If you take anything away from Panic, I really hope it's "be yourself". At the end of the day, no matter what anyone says or does to you, you always have your integrity and your self-respect. Never let anyone take that from you.

I love you guys. Thank you for everything.

Godspeed. Live long and prosper.

-SOSXE