Perseverance

by Bob the Taco Thief

The 4 Horsewomen in the world of MMA: The story nobody asked for.

8. Chapter 11

Becky

Surprise filled Becky's eyes. Her own brown eyes reflecting back at her from the cracked mirror. A tiny smattering of red at the epicenter of a spider web in fractured glass.

Without bothering to do anything about it, the redhead turned and walked out of the washroom. Shutting off the light and leaving the cracked glass behind. Out of sight, out of mind.

As she shuffled back into her room at the gym Becky lazily looked around her room. Settling on a marginally clean sock and wiping away the blood that flowed from a tiny cut on her knuckle.

Becky sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled out her phone. Ignoring the notification of a new message and scrolling through her contacts. Knowing who it would be and not wanting to deal with it.

After finding the number she was looking for her finger quickly pressed the call button. Putting the phone on speaker and dropping her head into her free hand. Eyes closing tighter with each ring that went unanswered.

An odd combination of relief and frustration when no one answered. The voicemail message filling the empty room and making Becky feel even worse. Something she hadn't been sure was possible until hearing her voice.

"Hey! You've reached Carmella! I must be having a fabulous time right now so just leave a message and I-"

Becky swiftly hit the end call button.

Maybe Carmella not answering was actually for the best. As she was making the call Becky felt unclean. Still feeling the lingering self-loathing. Disappointment in herself rising steadily.

What would she have done had Carmella actually answered?

The redhead wished she didn't know the answer, but she wasn't calling to simply say hello.

She had been, and still was looking for a distraction. Something to throw herself into for an escape.

The anger built until Becky's grip around the phone tightened. Her arm rising into position to hurl the electronic device against the wall when the sudden chirping of her ringtone got her to stop the throwing motion.

She brought the phone down and peered at the name that was calling. Of course, Bayley would call her after she ignored the texts. Becky should have guessed this was coming.

With a heavy heart, she declined the call. Typing out a quick message, "I'm fine. Don't worry about me." and sending it off in hopes the other woman would accept such a meager offering, and leave her alone.

Rather than leaving it up to Bayley to not try contacting her anymore Becky powered down her phone and tossed it on the other side of her bed.

Not bothering to take off any of the clothes she had carefully picked out, Becky laid down on top of her sheets and let her head rest on the pillow. Closing her eyes and trying to force sleep. A part of her hoping that this whole night had been a bad dream. That she hadn't just made a fool of herself and alienated the only person that seemed to always be in her corner. Even when she didn't deserve it.

Becky knew that Bayley wouldn't just let this go and her mind continued to constantly buzz in thought. Any actual sleep feeling impossible with her brain running constantly yet never really getting anywhere. Worrying about the same thing for nearly an hour without making any real progress.

A growl of frustration and grief filled the room. Becky pushing herself up off the bed. Grabbing her phone and keys before walking out through the gym. Uncaring of the fact that she had a light training session with Bobby in ten hours.

It was only a little after one in the morning. Plenty of time to find a distraction.

Bayley

One could call Bayley Martinez a worrier with some justice. At least when it came to her relationships with others, she did tend to worry. But how she was feeling right now was well past that. How she feeling now was to worry what a hurricane was to a gentle summer's breeze.

Bayley was scared.

She wasn't scared for herself, she was scared for her friend. She was terrified in fact. She was terrified that somewhere out there right now Becky Lynch was alone. And she would be alone, Bayley was certain of that. Becky wouldn't be seeking a shoulder to cry on in this situation, she'd be trying to hide from the pain.

What she did when that inevitably didn't work was what had Bayley so scared.

She'd already helped talk Becky back from the ledge twice. Two times Becky had been in danger of slipping back into her old destructive patterns and both times Bayley had, somehow, managed to help her back. Bayley didn't consider herself any kind of expert at this sort of stuff, so she was just profoundly grateful she'd gotten lucky.

But now it seemed that luck had run out.

Ever since the disaster of their 'date', Bayley had been trying desperately to reach Becky. Texting, calling, even showing up at the gym. Nothing had worked. She wanted to tell her friend so many things right now. She wanted to assure Becky that everything was fine, that nothing had to change, that it wasn't a big deal. Except it was a big deal and she knew it.

Becky Lynch, who had for so long been living in a kind of emotional bunker, had reached out. Maybe the first time since she'd been a child that the Irish woman had really done so. And she'd had her hand burned in one of the most painful ways there was. Burned by a woman she'd considered a close friend.

Burned by Bayley.

This recollection was enough to bring tears to Bayley's eyes. The expression that had slowly spread across Becky's face as the Irish woman had realized what was going on, was one that Bayley thought would haunt her forever. And it was the knowledge that she had caused all the pain that was tearing at Bayley's heart.

What was wrong with her? Becky was a beautiful, funny, and (in her own way) caring person. Why couldn't Bayley just be the woman that Becky wanted her to be? Would it be so bad to be with Becky? To be with your best friend?

But her heart always provided her with the same, decidedly negative, answer.

Becky deserved someone who was in love with her as much as she was with them. Not someone who was forced to cudgel her heart and head into the relationship.

But none of this did anything to assuage her guilt or quiet her fears.

Taking out her phone again, Bayley dialed Becky and waited. There was no answer, of course, so she waited for voicemail. "Hey, Becky...I...I just wanted to check on you. Tell you again how sorry I am and that I really hope we can stay friends. But even if you never want to speak to me again, please…PLEASE, Becky, just...tell me you're OK. I just want to know that you're safe, I love you." Bayley hung up after leaving this message and put a hand over her eyes.

After a few moments she lifted her phone again and composed a text before sending it off to the Irish woman. It read: "Think about it."

Without any other recourse, Bayley Martinez settled in for a long night of waiting for her phone to buzz. She just hoped that if it did, it would be her friend on the line and not someone telling her about what had happened. Wherever Becky was that night, Bayley just hoped she would think about it.

Becky

It had taken a while but Becky had finally found a place that seemed quiet and off the beaten path. The small amount of souls still up at this time on a weekday content to sit by themselves and not bother the woman sitting by herself at the far end of the bar.

Two glasses of dark brown liquid in front of her. One, half empty and the other still full. The bartender raising an eyebrow when she had asked for a diet coke and rum in separate glasses but following her order nonetheless.

She had tried walking into some club to try and quickly pick up a warm body that could help distract her for a time but had immediately been turned away by the loud bass and loud atmosphere. There had been a time when that wouldn't have bothered Becky but she seemed to have lost any tolerance built up prior.

Picking up the half-empty glass the redhead took another sip. The artificial taste and caffeine bitter against her tongue. The glass making a small noise as it returned to the counter. Becky's eyes moving over to the other glass and looking at it with a morbid curiosity.

'It's just one drink. I can handle it. Now that I know its a problem I will be able to stop. My only real problem was drinking too much. I can drink responsibly though.'

Even though these thoughts dominated Becky's mind something held her back from just draining the glass of liquor.

Regret, sadness and an all too familiar loneliness combining to grow in her gut from seeds that had been planted long ago and never been fully extracted.

Becky knew what was going to happen. Bayley would apologize profusely and do everything in her power to make Becky feel better about it. Try to convince her that it was no big deal and that they can get past this. Probably give her a line about how Bayley will always be her friend and be there if she needs to talk… But it would all be bullshit. Bayley would go back to California and inevitably the awkwardness would make the brunette less inclined to contact her. No doubt she would try and overcompensate at first by calling Becky consistently, acting as if everything could just go back to the way it was before.

Sudden realization swept through Becky and she pulled out her phone. Hitting the power button and turning the device back on. Quickly hitting ignore on the notifications she was inundated with and opening her email. Scrolling down till she found what she looking for.

With a few swipes, her finger hovered over the screen. Becky wistfully looking down for a moment before she canceled the flight. Sure that the woman would be able to get some use out of them even without her being there. Shutting the phone right back off and putting it in her pocket.

Becky stared blankly at the wooden counter for a minute. Trying to wrangle her thoughts but finding them impossible to corral and control.

Her hand inched closer and picked up the full glass. Abruptly tilting it back and allowing just a small amount of the bitter liquid to rush down her throat. The old familiarity of its taste a forgotten friend that you found yourself smiling at despite knowing why you forgot them.

The newly half empty glass hit the counter with more force than Becky intended. A loud clang making the other occupants briefly look her way before returning to whatever they were doing.

In that moment Becky hated herself. Wanting to push the liquid away but instead draining the rest.

Letting the empty glass gently back down and becoming still. Frozen in time. Unaware of how much of it passed before she felt someone approaching.

Sasha/Becky

"You're in the wrong place," Sasha Banks said as she sat in the stool next to Becky Lynch. Sat next to the woman that, bizarrely, could be both credited with and blamed for all the monumental changes that had occurred in Sasha's life in recent times.

Junkyard Dog's was a dingy little shit hole of a dive tucked away among several traditionally black neighborhoods in Boston. Sasha's own father had loved the place and had even brought her there for Shirley Temples when he'd been alive. But that had been a long time and Sasha hadn't been there for years and years. Yet spurred by some impulse that evening Sasha had decided to take advantage of her last night in Boston to visit.

At first, the bar's patrons had been excited and a little suspicious to have an honest to god celebrity in their midst. But the affection had become more genuine when it had been recalled that Sasha was FROM this area. Sasha had done her best to be gracious, part of her new leaf, but eventually, her wish to be alone had communicated itself to the others and she'd been left in solitude in a corner booth.

She'd been there for almost three hours drinking terrible beer and feeling sorry for herself. This was something she did quite often when she drank. Making matters worse, with every sip she could imagine the expression Bayley would give her if she could see her now. This wasn't enough to make her stop, but it was enough to make her feel, if possible, even worse.

She hadn't been paying much attention to anyone else in the bar except for a younger woman who had been there earlier. But the girl had left a while ago leaving Sasha alone with her beer and brooding. Then she'd heard a loud clunking sound from the bar, the sound of glassware being set down too hard, and, like all the other drinkers, had turned to look.

It could have been almost anyone else at the bar, and she would have been less surprised. And probably less annoyed. The red hair, black jacket, and strong frame were unmistakable.

Had she been sober Sasha would probably have ignored Lynch, or even just insulted her from where she sat. She knew the bar would have her back. Instead, she lurched unsteadily to her feet and nearly tipped over. Grabbing hold of the booth until the room came to a complete stop, she walked over to the bar as purposefully as a drunk person in heeled boots could manage.

Nodding at the bartender over Lynch's unsuspecting shoulder and making a 'give me another' gesture she sat heavily next to the Irish woman and said: "You're in the wrong place."

Becky turned to confirm what she already knew from sound alone. Her state of mind not improving any. "Are you the hostess?" Throwing Banks' own words back at her. "I can go where I please."

"Maybe I'm just not as blind as you," Sasha said dryly as she waited for her drink.

"Start making sense." The redhead fired back. Genuinely confused by the comment. Paying far more attention to the thoughts in her head then what she had walked into.

Sasha snorted as her drink arrived. "What do you have, that I have half of, and no one else in the bar has?" Riddling was a new development for her drunk behavior but Sasha supposed it could have been the beer.

Becky took a moment to actually take in her surroundings. Quickly noticing the odd stares she was getting and putting two and two together. "I don't see color." She mumbled. Not wanting to admit she simply hadn't been paying to where she had been walking tonight.

Sasha's snort was MUCH more pronounced now as she took a deep pull from her drink. When she resurfaced she said: "OK, whatever you say Taylor Swift."

The irony was too hard to unsee. "That's low. Even for you. Though I could probably give the girl a few song ideas." Her tongue loosening as the first alcohol in over six months hit her system. Sizing up the woman to her right and grinning. Her old persona coming back out. "So what's a girl like you doing out all alone?" Raising an eyebrow before continuing. "Where's the cameras and the entourage?"

Any number of acidic retorts suggested themselves to Sasha. But maybe it was the booze or maybe it was her new clarity, either way, she didn't say any of them. Instead, she settled on: "Camera's stayed with my... " she almost said 'fiance' here but couldn't manage it "...The woman I have sex with. And I'm guessing we're both here for the same reasons."

Becky tried to get the bartender's attention. "Classy…" she muttered. Her fingers drumming against the bar as she cursed her luck. Sasha Banks being the last person she wanted to speak to after the night she had so far. "I highly doubt we are here for the exact same reason tonight."

Sasha looked sideways at Lynch for a while before she shrugged. "You know, there are probably about seven BILLION other people on this planet I'd rather be talking to right now, but you're here. So try me," she said as drained a good five ounces of beer.

To her own shock, Becky found herself considering it. The fresh glass set in front of her remaining untouched as she peered into the amber liquid. She knew that there would be consequences for what she was doing but she couldn't care right now. That was a problem for the future. A small bitter laugh escaping her. "I made a mistake. Thought something was there and made a fool of myself." Flashes of their last fight taunting her. "Seems to be a pattern."

Sasha considered the Irish fighter's words for a while. "We both know someone who would tell us how to deal with the mistakes we're both trying to drown," she finally said, though in a voice so laden with regret that she barely recognized it. The truth was that person wouldn't approve of a single thing happening this evening.

Part of Becky wasn't sure to cry, scream or laugh at Sasha's implication. Unknowingly hitting the mark. "I'm sure she would…" Becky thought about the messages on her phone that were ignored and tried to justify it to herself. Her voice sounding more gravely than usual from the burn in her throat. Quickly downing the entire glass as soon it was in front of her. Guilt over how she knew Bayley would feel if she knew what was happening right now making her feel even worse. "What she doesn't know…"

A bitter bark of laughter escaped Sasha's lips at that. It felt strange to say but she felt as though there was almost a connection between them based on nothing but the shared experience of knowing Bayley. And, perhaps, of being her reclamation projects. This was a sobering thought.

Was Sasha ready to really start doing what she'd told herself she would? Was she ready to start acting like Bayley would?

Maybe

Even as she motioned for the bartender to bring them both drinks she asked: "I thought I saw on TV you were sober these days?"

Becky flinched at the reminder. Swallowing against the lump in her throat the simple question brought. "I was." She stated, just trying to ignore the shame creeping up on her. The buzz of alcohol helping silence some of it for the time being.

Sasha might have been drunk, and a generally insensitive person, but even she didn't miss this cue. Putting aside Bayley, she knew most people in the world would have tried to offer comfort at this moment. Yet somehow Sasha's first instinct was to pounce on this weakness as though she'd seen Lynch start to limp in the cage. She suppressed this quickly but then was pulled under by a riptide of shame. What kind of person did that make her?

For lack of anything else to do she ordered another drink and asked: "Boston isn't working out for you?"

"Boston's fine," Becky admitted. Looking sideways at Sasha and wondering why on earth the woman was pretending like they didn't hate each other. The funeral was over and the truce was finished as far as Becky was concerned. "I'm just having a bad night. Looks like you might be too."

The shift in tone was unmistakable. Sasha's own hostility, never far from the surface, stirred but she forced it down. In a strange way, her time with Bayley had taught her how to handle this. Though previously she'd always been the one snapping and Bayley had been the one refusing to rise to the bait. And she at least needed to try.

"I am, a bad time for a long time," she said, evenly.

"Is that supposed to make me feel bad for you?" Becky asked flippantly. Old jealousy rising in her at the thought of everything Sasha had taken from her. The other woman an easy scapegoat to avoid thinking about her own responsibility for how she acted after the fight.

It turned out that Sasha's newly turned leaf could endure exactly ONE bitchy comment. Twisting to face Lynch she said: "Frankly I don't give a fuck what a drunk thinks about anything!"

Seeing Sasha get angry made Becky feel better. The other woman's relative calm irritating her into prodding till someone felt as shitty as she did.

Misery really does love company.

"Then why'd you come over her sweetheart? Looking for a nightcap? Because I can tell you right now that even drunk I have better taste."

"That's a good fucking question…" Sasha hissed. She was furious, which she was more comfortable with than the thing she'd been trying before. Her eyes flicked toward a bottle on the bar top and briefly considered snatching it up. But then she noticed the other people around and forced her hands into her pockets as she stood.

She'd decided it was time to launch her most destructive verbal attack.

Turning to the bartender she flung a few hundreds across the bar and said: "Let the white girl drink free, in fact, pour her another shot right now." Sasha turned to glare at Becky as she said: "After all, she's only here because of me anyway."

Becky's eyes narrowed. "You must be more drunk than I thought. Aren't even making sense anymore." Not bothering to thank Sasha for covering the tab. Knowing that it was more a show of power than out of kindness.

Sasha gave her most patronizing smile as she asked: "How long you been out here Rebecca? Gotta be about 5 months now right?"

Even Becky couldn't help feeling perturbed by the smile Sasha sent her way. Sneering back as she responded in clipped tones. "Somethin' like that. You 'ave a point?"

Sasha's grin turned from sickly sweet to that of a tiger that had just cornered its prey. Leaning in so her lips were near Becky's ear she whispered: "Who do you think sent you the note, Champ?"

"You're lying." Becky threw out quickly.

Sasha leered as she whispered: "We've all have fallen short at times in our life. We're owed a fresh start once in a while, so here's your chance." With that she gave Lynch's back a slap much harder than could be considered friendly before, with a toss of her hair, she left the bar.

Becky was stunned into silence. Not even reacting to the hard thump on her back.

Suddenly questioning everything that had happened since she stepped foot in Boston.

She wanted to say Sasha was lying but she had only mentioned the note once in an interview with Bayley but had never said what was written.

Without looking Becky snatched the shot Sasha had ordered and threw it down. Hissing as the liquid burned its way down to her stomach. The thought of Sasha being the reason for her getting this second chance filled her with a sick feeling. To have the other woman being the reason for her injury and the force behind bringing her to Boston threw her emotions into a blender.

The bartender followed Sasha's orders and Becky drank for another hour before a random thought blew through her hazy mind.

Charlotte and Sasha had known each other for a brief period of time. Was that why Sasha had come to the funeral?

Her mind making connections and the blame suddenly shifting to another target. Unsteadily jumping off her stool and walking towards the door. Moving towards her new goal without any idea of what she would do when she got there.

Charlotte/Becky

A loud thump awakened Charlotte from her slumber, but the following crash and repeated thumping made her jump up wide awake. Moving towards her bedside table and opening the top drawer. Her eyes idly moving up to her charging phone and briefly making note that it was nearly four in the morning while pulling out a metal case from inside the drawer.

Mind quickly supplying the necessary combination for the case while her fingers automatically put it into the small electronic display. The latch opening and allowing Charlotte to reach her hand inside. Wrapping her fingers around the cold metal grip and pulling the pistol out of its safe.

Automatically checking it over and making sure the bullets were loaded. The loud banging noise from her apartments front door not ceasing despite its inconsistency.

With the grace of a dancer her feet carried her silently out of her room. Her hands holding the gun steady at her side. Only pulling it up and aiming it towards the door after she called out, "Who's there?" and getting no response.

Charlotte moved closer to the door but decided to try and peak out the window to the left of the door to get a look at whatever had decided to wake her up.

Before she even started moving the blinds back she got the answer to her question indirectly.

"I know yer fuckin' in there Charlie. Jus' com' open the door… And what's wit' all the flowers?" Another crash that Charlotte just now realized must be the pots outside her door where she maintained a tiny garden for herself.

With a small sigh of relief Charlotte put the gun down. Moving towards the door and letting the other woman inside.

She had noticed that Becky was speaking with a much stronger accent than normal but hadn't really processed it. More annoyed that the redhead had decided to wake her so early and apparently break some of her flower pots.

Charlotte wasn't awake enough to have any real guesses for why Becky was at her apartment but when she stumbled inside reeking of alcohol the blonde couldn't help feeling a profound sadness.

This week had already been easily one of the worst of her life just from having to bury her own father, but seeing this made it worse.

"This is yer place?" Becky said while teetering on the edge of losing her balance. Twirling around in place and looking around the interior. "Cozy."

"Becky… Have you been drinking?" Charlotte felt stupid asking the question. It would require someone to be blind and deaf to somehow not notice the state her fighter was in.

Becky clapped her hands together repeatedly. Grinning over at the blonde. "Let's not make this all 'bout me Charlie." A tiny fraction of anger creeping into her voice. "Why not talk about you and t'at piece of trash Sasha Banks."

The words caught Charlotte off guard. Visibly recoiling from how confused she was in this moment. "What?"

The redhead unsteadily stepped forward with her finger pointing at Charlotte. "You and Sasha mus' be 'aving a laugh. Playin' god and toyin' wit' me."

"Becky what the hell are you talking about?" Charlotte could hardly keep up with how fast Becky lobbed vague accusations in her direction.

"I know yer game Flair… Everythin' you've done was jus' ta set me up. You brought Lexi in jus' to make things harder fer me. You sent her away. Kept pushin' me and actin' like I didn't deserve to be in yer stupid gym."

"Becky! Calm down. I don't even-"

Even though the movement surprised her Charlotte was easily able to react and dodged the sloppy tackle coming her way. Becky's body slowly tumbling forward past her intended target until the wall helped stop her momentum.

"You don't get to tell me what to do. Not anymore." Becky spoke in a steady, slow tone that seemed to defy her drunken state.

Charlotte sucked in a deep breath. The blonde had expected that Becky was more hurt by Charlotte's attitude than she let on, but the idea of opening herself up to someone who could, and by all accounts, probably would hurt her still scared her.

But it wasn't acceptable to hurt someone else just because she was afraid. It wasn't something profound. Most would say it was obvious, and Charlotte would have always agreed with them. Maybe that was why she always had to convince herself that the person beneath the fighter wasn't right for her whenever she glimpsed the real Becky. Running away from what she was scared to want, because one day it might be gone.

Far easier, and safer to simply avoid going after it. Not because she was scared of rejection, but rather of everything going perfectly. Growing closer and developing a bond that when clipped hurts more than any physical pain possibly could.

Charlotte made sure she was looking Becky in the eyes, even if the other woman's were dull and unfocused because of the liquor. "I'm sorry."

Even in her drunken state Becky was off put by the apology. Wobbling slightly in place. The ground beginning to feel like it was moving beneath her feet even when she wasn't moving.

"I'm sorry for a lot. But I have no idea what you are talking about with Sasha."

The reminder brought back Becky's anger and she already forgot about the apology. "She told me."

"Told you what?" Charlotte was trying not to lose her patience but Becky's half answers and ramblings were difficult to put together.

Fighters are trained to move as efficiently as possible. Take as few steps as needed and make every movement count.

It took Becky twenty steps to traverse a few feet forward and not topple over. The alcohol hitting the fighter harder than normal with a combination of not having drank in so long and having ate nothing since lunch this afternoon. Her stomach feeling tied up in knots the closer it had gotten to when she would pick up Bayley, opting to skip dinner and not risk it.

"She tol' me 'nough. You and 'er got me here… Was this all some sor' of sick game for yous two? String me along, all the while yer laughin' b'hind me back."

Charlotte could see this wasn't going anywhere. Becky was obviously too far gone at this point and wasn't thinking rationally. Still, she had a question that she hoped the redhead would actually answer. "What happened tonight?"

The array of emotions Charlotte watched cross Becky's face was alarming and she quickly realized that she wouldn't be getting an answer tonight.. So many emotions trapped in such a deceptively small person. Her personality always making her seem bigger than she really was. Sometime Charlotte forgot that Becky was just a person beneath all the bluster and outward confidence. She shouldn't need to be reminded but the redhead didn't allow many to see the woman that hid behind the fighter.

Charlotte did know one person that Becky had let truly know her and sighed. Pulling out her phone and scrolling down till she found Bayley's contact. Not looking forward to having to wake up the journalist at almost four thirty in the morning but knowing that Bayley would scold her if she mentioned the time as a reason for not telling the reporter about her friends status.

"I'm going to call Bayley." Charlotte flippantly stated. Informing the fighter out of politeness rather than just ignoring her and looking down at her phone. "You look like you might need a friend."

The massive haymaker that followed her words was easy for Charlotte to sidestep. Becky's punch telegraphed and lacking the coordination to properly throw it and remain balanced. Momentum sending her tumbling forward again but with no wall to stop her this time.

Stumbling ahead till she toppled forward, crashing through a wooden coffee table and scattering the few items that had been sitting on it across the room. A decorative glass vase containing marbles that Charlotte couldn't even remember buying broke. Sending tiny marbles to cover one side of her living room which the blonde knew would be annoying to clean entirely.

Her immediate concern of course was Becky and she rushed to the woman's side. Kneeling down and offering a hand to help her out of the mess of broken wood she found herself in.

She quickly found herself pulling up mostly dead weight. The redhead''s body finally falling to the alcohol and giving up. Muttering something that Charlotte couldn't hear.

With quite a significant amount of effort the taller woman was able to lug Becky's unhelpful body to her white couch and gently lay her down. Taking care to point the fighter's head over the side of the coach in case she suddenly feels the urge to throw up. Running over to her kitchen and pulling the garbage bin over to the couch. Kneeling down beside her and brushing the hair out of Becky's scrunched up face.

The redhead still muttering something. When Charlotte made a move to walk away her hand grabbed onto Charlotte's elbow and weakly held on.

"Don't. Don't call her."

Charlotte blinked at the request. Figuring that Becky didn't want Bayley to see her like this. "I won't… Under a few conditions."

Becky softly groaned. Her eyes still closed while she spoke. "Whatever. Just… Please don't call her. I don't want her to blame herself."

"Why would she?" Charlotte asked. Not getting any answer as Becky's hand lost its weak grip on her arm and lifelessly fell to dangle off the side of the couch. Even though she wasn't sure Becky was still conscious Charlotte continued to speak. "Alright… We will talk in the morning."

Rising to her feet and cleaning up the worst of the mess from the broken table.

Silently watching the redhead sleep for a moment before she moved to grab a pillow and slip it under Becky's head.

Walking to her room and trying to get a couple good hours of sleep in before dealing with everything that had just been thrown on her plate.

She had finally accepted that she had assuredly failed in a multitude of ways and knew she needed to better.

This wasn't much, but it was a start.

Charlotte/Bayley

Bayley had always had it in contemplation to visit the gym one last time before she left Boston the next day. But she'd always envisioned the visit as a fun, if potentially bittersweet, moment of goodbyes. Now she found she was dreading the possibility for so many reasons, but two opposed outcomes stood out from that pack. Bayley wasn't sure which would be worse, if she ran into Becky or if she didn't.

Despite a veritable barrage of texts, calls, and even emails, Bayley hadn't heard from her friend. IF Becky was still her friend. Bayley pushed this thought aside angrily, of course she was this was just a big misunderstanding. She was hoping if she kept saying that she'd eventually start to believe it.

She knew that she was overdoing it, that she should be respecting Becky's obvious desire NOT to talk to her. But she couldn't leave well enough alone in this case. She was so worried that Becky might do something self-destructive that she didn't care how clingy she seemed.

As her rideshare stopped out in front of the gym she had to take a few deep breaths before she could force herself to exit the vehicle with her bag. Just seeing the building brought back so many memories, most of them good, and many of them also involving Becky. It made Bayley's gut twist with guilt just to see the facade. But she did force herself to go inside.

The first person she ran into was Liv Morgan, who greeted her in a friendly way that made Bayley think she didn't know what had happened between herself and Becky. After their initial hello's Liv studied her critically and said: "You look like hell."

"Thanks," Bayley said, trying to muster a smile at what she knew had been meant as a joke.

"Everything alright?" Liv asked, sounding concerned.

"We'll see…" Bayley told her as she put a hand on the other woman's arm before walking back toward the stairs.

Charlotte was annoyed to admit that Molly's advice had helped make her work a little more organized and less hectic. Even though it seemed counter-productive to Charlotte, giving herself a scheduled chunk of time to do whatever she wanted helped make the endless work that needed to be done easier to deal with.

Her father may be dead, but Charlotte was more determined than ever to make this gym a success to be proud of.

"-It was great talking to you… I'm glad we could actually speak today… I'll let you go Toni… Have a great day."

Throwing her phone back down on her desk as she tried to think about work. Even if all she could think about was Becky.

She had known the woman wouldn't be up and left a note with instructions on where to find certain things, like aspirin or water, and to call her when she woke up.

Charlotte knew Becky wouldn't be open to a conversation upon waking. Most likely needing some time to nurse away the surely massive hangover that would make any talking basically worthless. Better to let the redhead lick her wounds in private for a small time and have a productive conversation.

A soft knock on her door captured Charlotte's attention away from the hypothetical scenarios she created for when they conversed. "Come in." She called out.

Bayley tried, she really did, to be her usual chipper self. She'd even scripted out how she should handle this interaction in an effort to pull off the ruse. Charlotte had just lost her dad and Bayley had no desire to add any more problems to her plate. Yet for all of this, when she entered the other woman's office all she managed was: "Hey."

By just the voice alone Charlotte could tell Bayley was holding something in. Add in the visual and it was even more obvious. "Hey, Bayley. What's on your mind?"

"I just came by to see how you're doing after the funeral, and see if you need any help," Bayley said, delivering the line she'd prepared. It would have been a lot more believable if there had been some enthusiasm in her voice.

Charlotte appreciated the sentiment but knew something else was going on here. The reporter's behavior worrying her, even as she contemplated how much she should tell Bayley. Wanting to respect Becky's wishes but knowing that guilt would eat her up if she lied to someone she knew Becky was good friends with. "That means a lot, Bayley. It really does… Can I flip that question on you? Do you need any help?"

Bayley sat in the chair across from Charlotte and sighed. Charlotte was far too smart to be deceived by this act, especially given that Bayley didn't buy it herself. "I'm not doing a good job at selling the 'I'm fine' thing am I?" she asked dryly.

"Might as well be wearing a neon sign to me. Maybe it's easier to see since I'm trying to do the same thing." Charlotte admitted with a smile. Being open about her own mental problems was a suggestion of Molly's and there were very few people she felt comfortable trying this with.

Bayley debated on how much she could share here. She knew Becky would be devastated if she found out that Charlotte knew what had gone on between them. And it was this concern for her friend's privacy that made Bayley say: "Becky issues."

This admission made it even harder for Charlotte to withhold. "I don't want to lie to you." Biting her tongue for a moment. Becky saying that Bayley would blame herself coming back to mind. Still missing the full picture but putting enough pieces together to know something had happened between the two. "Would these 'issues' be the reason for Becky showing up at my door around 4 am?"

Bayley's eyes widened slightly at this. But the surprise was quickly swamped under a huge tidal wave of shame and guilt. Not even trying to look Charlotte in the face she stared at her lap as she asked: "Probably...was...was she OK?"

Charlotte felt like pinching the bridge of nose but fought the impulse. Walking around her desk and laying a hand on Bayley's shoulder. Knowing that the woman would feel horrible even if it wasn't her fault. "She's sleeping it off at my place." Tiptoeing around outright saying it since she could see Bayley was already blaming herself for whatever went down. "She didn't want me to call you… Said you would blame yourself."

"Oh no, oh no, oh no…" Bayley was saying into her hands over and over. It was her worst fears realized, confirmed even. Becky had fallen off the wagon, and it sounded like she'd fallen hard, and it was all her fault. Unbidden, a tear fell as she sniffed loudly. "What did I do?" she whispered to herself.

Even though she still didn't know what went down between them Charlotte knew it hadn't ended well. She squeezed Bayley's shoulder. "This wasn't your fault. Becky made a choice. A bad choice, but it was hers. You aren't responsible for what she does." All of the words ringing hollow when she saw how devastated Bayley was by this.

Bayley couldn't answer, she was fully crying now and there would be no easy ending to it. Sobs followed shortly after as her body jerked with each one. She was crying over her guilt in her role in Becky's relapse primarily but she was also crying about everything else that was wrong in her life. Oddly, she was crying about both Becky Lynch and Sasha Banks at the same time.

Seeing Bayley so low was an odd experience for Charlotte. Having come to see the woman as such a pillar of emotional strength that seeing her being anything but made her feel horrible. Like the whole world stopped making sense.

Charlotte surged forward and grabbed tightly onto the shaking woman. Sobs wracking through Bayley's body into Charlotte as she tried to take away even a fraction of the suffering she was going through. Squeezing tighter in a hope to give back some of the comfort and caring Bayley had given her.

One hand moving to gently cup the back of Bayley's head and stroke her hair softly. "I'm here for you. You don't have to always be the strong one." She whispered. Noting how easily the last sentence could apply to her.

Bayley cried for a long time, something she hadn't allowed herself to do in a very long time. She was realizing that what Charlotte had said was actually very true. She'd been forcing herself to always be the strong one first for Sasha and then with Becky and Charlotte. During all that time there hadn't really ever been anyone looking out for her.

This didn't exactly make her feel 'better' but she was a bit more in control.

"I'm sorry….the last thing you need a weepy reporter on your hands this week of all weeks," Bayley said, though she still clung to Charlotte's arm.

"It's actually kind of nice to do something for another person. Got tired of everyone telling me how sorry they were." No real vitriol in her voice. Just trying to speak honestly and make Bayley feel comfortable.

Bayley managed a choked sort of laugh at this as she broke their hug. "Thanks, Charlotte, you're a good friend," she said with real gratitude. She dried her eyes with a tissue Charlotte helpfully offered her before saying: "I wish I could tell you what was wrong but...I kinda can't."

Charlotte wanted to protest, but she didn't want to push beyond Bayley's boundaries. "I get it… Just know that I'm here if YOU need anything. Doesn't matter the time. I'm always just a phone call away."

"Thanks, Charlotte," Bayley said gratefully again. She thought for a moment and then just decided to ask: "You have some time tonight? I leave tomorrow."

Charlotte thought on it and realized that in all the times she and Bayley had sat and talked she had never invited the woman over to her actual apartment. "For you, of course. You can come to my place and I can actually cook for someone other than myself." Giving a small but warm smile.

Bayley just blinked in dumbfounded stupefaction. It was absurd but she realized that on some level she associated Charlotte so heavily with the gym that she hadn't ever considered that the blonde had a life outside of it. That and the fact that Charlotte was usually so reserved made Bayley very surprised at the invitation. Realizing she'd been quiet for too long she cleared her throat.

"Sure, yeah...that'd be great. What can I bring?" she asked.

"Uh… I wouldn't say no to something sweet." Charlotte offered. Pleased that Bayley was at least feeling slightly better. Her smile widening just a bit. "I can see why you like being the one doing the comforting. It actually does make you feel good… Don't tell anyone I said that." A world without a happy Bayley was a sad world indeed, and by the end of the night, Charlotte would make sure to get at least one genuine laugh from the reporter.

And she didn't make a claim like that lightly. She would make it happen if it took all night… But hopefully, it didn't.

Becky

Waking up with her head feeling like a basketball that had just been dribbled up and down off the court was not pleasant.

Nor was coming to grips with and remembering why she felt like this.

The splitting headache felt like nothing compared to the shame of having her first relapse since making the decision to finally kick the habit. The devastating taste of failure added to with each memory that flickered in and out of her head.

She wanted to bury her head in the soft pillow she didn't remember falling asleep on and ignore reality but that wasn't a real option. Not if she wanted a chance at pulling herself out the hole she dug herself.

With a strong effort, Becky managed to fight one eyelid open. The bright sunshine filtering through semi-closed blinds challenging her will. Headache steadily pounding like a bass drum in the back of her skull. Her thoughts reminding her of the time she had been watching Bayley wake up in a similar state.

For a moment Becky wished that she had had enough to somehow forget the last twelve hours. Or perhaps be struck by divine brilliance and know how to create a time machine.

But those thoughts were quickly drowned by the vivid recollection that seemed to be playing in her mind on a loop. From the disastrous and apparently stupid date she put together, to even going in that bar in the first place, Becky knew she had fucked up. With everything else that had happened Sasha being in the same bar she wandered into felt like a sign. A sign of what, Becky hadn't been sure. At least not until Sasha's parting words.

Apparently, the universe thought it would be hilarious to make Becky question how much she owed Sasha.

Before she had received the note sobriety had been the only goal in mind. There was no plan to make a comeback. Even if she had been on a better path Becky hadn't really been living. She hadn't made any friends from going to the meetings. Feeling far removed from the others even if they all shared a common flaw.

She could feel the stares no matter what group she joined. Always feeling like she was a caged animal that the others would sneak glances at. Knowing that everyone watching her could know all her dirty laundry with one quick google search if they weren't already aware.

Only when she got the note from Banks had she started daring to dream of maybe getting back in the cage. She wished that it didn't bother her but knowing it was Sasha muddied the waters.

There was a tiny part of her that wanted to be grateful, but the overwhelming feeling she couldn't fight was that Becky would rather never step foot in a cage again than feel like a charity case. Sasha showing pity on her after winning and ripping apart her knee was worse than death in her eyes. A blow to her ego and self-worth. Even if the other woman had sent the note out of whatever kindness was buried in her heart it didn't stop Becky from feeling utterly humiliated by the gesture.

She wished that somehow she could blame her relapse on Banks but that was a lie. Even before Sasha had sauntered over Becky had already thrown away months of sobriety and progress for a few hours of numbing the pain.

Shifting her head created a noise Becky knew but couldn't place. One hand moving up to paw around and find a piece of paper that had been tucked carefully beneath her pillow.

Quickly opening the piece of paper and regretting it immediately. ' Call me when you get up. We need to talk. -Charlotte p.s. Bathroom medicine cabinet; top shelf

And she had thought that the bad news was over.

Becky/Charlotte

The two women sat at opposite ends of Charlotte's couch. One choosing to give the other the space she needed and the other not wanting to be involved in this conversation at all.

Charlotte did her best to remain calm and tried to not let any judgment show, but dealing with this sort of setback was another reminder why Becky Lynch was not someone to trust in. She had used this excuse before to avoid dealing with Becky when she was in a mood, but this was something entirely different.

Becky Lynch falling off the wagon was exactly what she had worried would happen from the moment her father gave the woman an opportunity.

She remembered telling Becky that she wouldn't be allowed to drink while staying at the gym. A couple months ago and Charlotte would have had no problem following through right away but she was hesitant to do so now.

If there was anything she had learned about Becky it was that she didn't respond well to Charlotte telling her what to do. Doing so now could easily result in Becky simply fighting everything she said. But using kid gloves around the redhead would only serve to anger her.

The Becky that sat on the other side of the couch was oddly resigned to waiting for Charlotte to start this conversation. Staring down at her fingernails and picking at dirt where Charlotte knew there was none.

"Don't need me to tell you that drinking was a bad idea." Charlotte started off. Catching her guests attention even though she continued to pick at her nails.

The blonde sighed and scooted across the couch to close the distance between the two. Her hand coming up to rest on Becky's shoulder and give her a small squeeze.

"You're going to go see a counselor at least once a week. I'm not going to pretend this didn't happen… I know something happened between you and Bayley." Becky flinched and Charlotte was quick to reassure her. "I don't care what it was. We both just want you to be healthy and happy."

Becky snorted and crossed her arms.

"It might not seem like it right now but Bayley still cares about you. Don't push her away."

"Fine… I'll see the counselor. Can I go now?"

Charlotte closed her eyes and counted to five. Becky was trying to make her lose her cool and she couldn't allow that to happen. "That's great but we aren't done yet."

"What more is there to say? I got drunk. Won't happen again." Came the almost flippant response.

"I'm sorry."

"... Say what? I must be hearing things."

"I said I'm sorry. For a lot of things. I shouldn't have said-" Charlotte had a hard time reconciling the words she had harshly thrown. She hadn't even forgiven herself, so why would Becky. "-those things. You don't need to forgive me or anything. I just needed to make sure you know I was wrong and I lashed out at the wrong person."

Becky was uncustomarily silent. "Why are you apologizing right now? This feels weird."

Charlotte shook her head and surprised herself by squeezing Becky's shoulder again and slowly wrapping the woman in a hug. Giving her enough time to run away if she so chose.

"Uh… Charlie?"

The blonde rolled her eyes at the nickname Becky usually reserved to try and annoy her.

"What the hell is this?"

"Becky… Just shut up." Charlotte said. Holding onto the other woman's stiff upper body for almost a minute before Becky reluctantly relaxed into her arms. "This isn't the end of the world. You made a mistake, but now you just have to pick yourself back up and keep moving forward."

"Find that nugget of wisdom in a fortune cookie?" Becky tried to keep her voice joking but the longer she stayed in Charlotte's embrace the more she felt some of her barriers crack.

"It's alright Becky. Don't let a moment of weakness ruin all the progress you've made." Continuing to try and fight the redhead's cynicism with positive affirmations.

Becky stayed quiet and Charlotte worried that the Irish woman was going to retreat back behind her walls when she heard whisper so quiet she never would have guessed it came from the same woman she knew. "What if I already did."

"Then you work hard. And Rebuild what's worth it." Charlotte offered.

A comfortable sort of silence fell over the two. Right before Charlotte released the woman from her hug she felt Becky squeeze back for just a moment. "Thanks… But I need one thing from you."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow and backed away. Quick to give Becky back her space and not crowd her.

"Don't hug me again without my permission."

"I'll try to resist." Charlotte countered. Becky obviously wanted to downplay the serious moment they just had and the blonde decided to allow it. For now at least.

Charlotte/Bayley

Charlotte looked around her apartment and frowned. It was nowhere as clean as it normally was, but it had taken quite a bit of time to gather up all the scattered marbles and clean the room enough so that it didn't carry the stench of alcohol any longer.

Bayley should be here any moment and Charlotte wanted everything to be perfect, or as close as possible at least. She didn't invite people to her apartment often. It was her safe zone to decompress and escape, but more often than not had become more of a tomb where she would go to avoid. Molly had offered inviting someone as a challenge and this seemed like an easy person to try it out.

The enchiladas she had made filled the room with a strong aroma from their place in the oven. While rice continued to slowly cook on the stovetop.

Her friend needed someone to be there for her and Charlotte was going to try her damnedest to make up for her poor track record.

When the doorbell rang Charlotte suddenly remembered that she hadn't cleaned up the flower pots Becky had smashed last night. The dirt and shards kicked to one side but not actually picked up and thrown out. Silently rebuking herself for overlooking it. Knowing how much Bayley already blamed herself Charlotte hadn't wanted an obvious indicator of Becky's relapse to be out in the open.

Sighing she walked towards the door and moved to let her guest in.

Bayley had taken extra care with her appearance before leaving her hotel room. Privately she had to admit to herself that Charlotte could be intimidating. She was so tall, statuesque, and elegant that she sometimes left Bayley feeling awfully plain. Thanking provenance that she'd thrown a second dress into her bag, Bayley was wearing it as she approached the door. She didn't have the shoes for this though so she'd just worn her usual sneakers, the look was unconventional.

But dressing and the process of planning her outfit had been a welcome distraction from her larger problems. Bayley doubted she'd ever felt worse than how she'd felt earlier that day. The news that Becky had relapsed, and the undeniable fact that it was Bayley's fault, had devastated her. She doubted she'd feel 'good' for a very long time. Actually, it felt like she never would again.

But she also recognized what a big step it had been for Charlotte to invite her over. And Bayley refused to let her problems, no matter how major, with one friend, ruin her newly repaired relationship with another.

She pressed the doorbell.

In an attempt at starting things off lighthearted after their earlier conversation Charlotte opened the door with a flourish and swept her arm out in an overly grand gesture. "Welcome to La Castilla Flair. Come on in."

Bayley blinked at this response before something incredibly unlikely happened. Her mouth twitched twice and then the laughter began. In a moment she was giggling so hard that she had to lean against the side of the door. Even to her, she knew that it sounded a bit manic, as much a way for excess emotion to escape as a sigh of actual amusement, but it did feel good.

Charlotte couldn't help herself from joining in. The laughter feeling good after the week of bad news followed by yet more bad news. "You know I was actually hoping to get you to laugh a bit. Just didn't expect it so soon."

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry…" Bayley wheezed as she finally managed to straighten "...it's just your accent." She snorted then and almost lost herself to more laughter but she was able to control it. As she looked around she noticed a pile of what looked like broken pottery off to one side of the doorstep. Frowning now, Bayley asked: "Abstract art illustrating the futility of the human experience?"

She didn't want to bring the brunette's mood down but she really didn't want to lie. "I don't think that's what she was going for."

The implications of this statement kicked the humor out of Bayley instantly. But, not wanting to be a downer, she forced a smile and said: "Well, I'm going to pull back hard on the conversational stick now so we don't crash into that topic if that's alright."

"Probably for the best " Charlotte admitted. Giving her best smile to try and counter the sudden chill that had crept over them at the reminder. "You want a drink? Dinner should be ready in twenty minutes or so. I tried to make some Mexican food. Hopefully, we both aren't dead tomorrow of food poisoning, but I followed the recipes exactly."

Wishing to get back to a more convivial atmosphere Bayley tried a joke as she stepped inside, saying: "Oh Charlotte, first the accent and now the food...I don't know how more my culture can take."

"Wait until I bring out the pinata." Charlotte joked. Trying her best to keep Bayley focused on something other than what she clearly still blamed herself for.

Bayley was about to respond when her shoe crunched on something. Bending down she came up with a tiny piece of splintered wood in her hand. "The same thing as the pottery?" she asked, trying desperately to keep her voice light.

Her smile slowly faded into a thin line. She really should have paid someone to professionally clean, but she hadn't let Becky leave her place till their conversation was concluded. Which left her with only a few hours to prepare for Bayley's arrival. "Thought I got it all cleaned up but I was clearly wrong." Once again opting for honesty rather than trying to bend the truth. Gesturing over to the empty space in front of the couch. "Used to be a coffee table there. Might try keeping it this way for a bit though. Really opens the room up." She tried to joke and quickly realized that it wasn't working. "Anyways…" Scratching the back of her head while coming up with a way to steer the conversation away from Becky. "Thanks for coming. It uhh, means a lot. I can't remember the last time I had a friend over."

Taking the conversational lifeline, Bayley moved to sit on the couch and said: "Somehow...that doesn't surprise me. I remember thinking while I was here full time that you must not actually spend much time here."

Charlotte walked over to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. Opening one for herself and taking a large gulp. "I didn't back then. I'm just trying to separate myself from the business a bit." Walking over towards the couch and offering Bayley the other bottle of water. Summoning up some courage before admitting, "On the advice of my therapist." Her eyes focused on the ground rather than her guest. Anxiety and fear rolling around in her brain at revealing that she was going to therapy. The vulnerability of admitting something so personal, even to a friend, was terrifying.

Bayley's eyes widened slightly at this. She'd thought that both Becky and Charlotte would benefit from seeing a therapist, but hadn't ever expected either to actually do it. Even despite her generally low mood, Bayley's small smile became much more genuine as she reached over to squeeze Charlotte's wrist. "I'm really proud of you Charlotte," she said earnestly.

Now that it was over and done with Charlotte honestly didn't even know what she had been afraid of. The idea that Bayley would be anything other than supportive seemed ludicrous after the fact, but that didn't stop the intense relief that flowed through her. The tension in her body she hadn't even been aware of disappearing like it had never been there in the first place. "Thanks." Looking up at Bayley for just a moment before she frowned and looked back towards the ground. "I also feel like I never gave you the apology you deserve, so here goes. I was wrong to get rid of you the way I did. I took the cowards way out and had Alexa pull the rug out from under you so I wouldn't have to… I'm sorry for that and being such a gigantic bitch last time." Charlotte paused for a moment to wipe a tear from her eyes. "I'm truly sorry Bay. Please just smack me next time I act like an idiot."

It was Bayley's usual habit to try and deflect a comment like this with humor. But not now. She knew Charlotte was opening up in a way that she probably never did. She needed to take that seriously. Reaching over to take Charlotte's hands she said "You know how much it hurt me the first time, it made me feel like you didn't care about our friendship. And in the bar, what hurt me most was that you used personal information that I shared with my friend to hurt me." Bayley let this hang in the air for a moment and she saw how badly it had affected Charlotte. So she added: "But I know you're really trying to make it right, and I'm sure you know by now I love you, so I accept your apology."

Charlotte tried her best to smile through the misery she felt from hurting someone so kind and understanding. It felt like only a true asshole monster could take advantage of someone like Bayley and she hated knowing she had done so at more than one point. Squeezing Bayley's hands and looking back up into the reporter's eyes for a second. "Thanks. I still don't feel like I deserve it, but I will try my best to keep on earning it."

Bayley looked at her friend, looking positively wretched. So she relented. Charlotte wasn't looking so it was hardly fair, but Bayley's hand flashed up and cracked against her cheek. It wasn't a hard blow but it was enough to leave Charlotte looking stunned. Bayley grinned at her and said: "Happy now?"

Charlotte was surprised for a moment until she remembered her own words. A tiny chuckle breaking her stunned silence. "Well, I did give you permission." One hand coming up to rub at her stinging cheek. "Damn! You really pack a deceptive punch. Looking to get into the other side of fighting? I'm still looking to bring in some new blood."

Bayley laughed at this as she leaned in to hug Charlotte. As they embraced she repeated: "I'm proud of you chica"

Normally praise like this made Charlotte feel awkward, but Bayley had an aura about her that made you feel safe and she returned the hug. "You're too damn nice for this world. You know that? Hopefully, you find someone who treats you like you deserve." Charlotte automatically thinking about Sasha and what Bayley had told her about their 'relationship' if one could truly even call it one.

This sobered Bayley as she pulled back from Charlotte and picked at the label on her bottle. She did some furious thinking for a few moments before she made a decision. "Before we eat, can I share something with you that you can NOT ever tell anyone else?"

Charlotte had watched the small internal battle Bayley went through before asking and knew whatever it was she had to say was not something she felt excited about sharing. Settling back into the couch in a relaxed pose. Sipping softly from the water bottle before speaking. "Of course. You don't have to worry about me. I've already sworn you to secrecy a few times so it's only right I return the favor."

Bayley didn't answer beyond a small smile as she looked down at her water. Taking a few deep breaths she swallowed and said: "I...know why Becky was so...off...last night."

The vague answer made Charlotte a little nervous about what the full answer would be, but she nodded along anyway. "You don't have to explain if you don't want. I get the sense it's something personal." Offering Bayley an out from an obviously uncomfortable subject.

"No, it will probably end up concerning you anyway…" Bayley said, reluctant to stop talking now that she'd started "...Becky...kind of took me on a date."

Charlotte had to blink several times. If she didn't know her hearing was perfect the blonde might have questioned if she heard that correctly. As is, she honestly didn't know how she was feeling but hid it behind her worry for Bayley. "It didn't end well I take it." More a statement than a question.

"Well...the problem was that...Becky thought it was a date, I didn't," Bayley explained sadly.

"Oh…" Charlotte exclaimed before silence took over both women for a moment. "That's… uncomfortable." She lamely finished.

"Yeah...well...you saw better than I did what happened…" Bayley said, now sounding dejected.

Charlotte didn't feel comfortable speaking on Becky's behalf but knew the redhead hadn't yet spoken to Bayley even after Charlotte's prodding. "Don't blame yourself. I know she hasn't contacted you yet…" Taking a deep breath before revealing one of the terms they came to an agreement on. "She did agree to talk to a counselor for at least one session a week. I'm only saying this because I know she will avoid telling you if she can…" Debating if she wanted to reveal one more thing. "There was one thing she wanted me to tell you though. Wanted to say she's sorry for putting you in that position and to not feel responsible. Kept saying there was more to it than you knew."

This didn't actually help Bayley feel better but she still appreciated Charlotte's efforts. Reaching for the chain at her neck she held out the sobriety chip for Charlotte to see and said: "She gave me this…"

Charlotte wasn't terribly familiar with the program herself but knew enough to know what the chip meant. "I'm sure she'd want you to keep it." She said softly. Not knowing what else to say at that moment that could possibly make Bayley feel any better.

"I just feel so guilty Charlotte...and I'm worried something is wrong with me. All my relationships seem to blow up on me," Bayley said miserably.

Charlotte laid a hand on Bayley's shoulder and squeezed. Once again pulling the other woman into an embrace she sensed was needed. "Nothing is wrong with you. You are the kindest woman I know. And because of that kindness, damaged people tend to gravitate towards you. You have a gift for making people feel loved despite whatever shitty things they've done." Speaking about herself as well as the other two fighters. "Don't ever change Bayley. None of it's your fault."

"I really appreciate that Charlotte, even if I can't access it right now…" she said and then she sniffed the air before adding: "...Your enchiladas are burning by the way."

It took only a moment for Charlotte to begin scrambling off her own couch and crossing her home in record time. Grabbing an oven mitt and opening her oven to the sight of smoke billowing out. Quickly turning the hood vent onto high and pulling out the completely inedible food. "Damnit. I was actually looking forward to those." Hands moving to her hips as she looked at her attempt at enchiladas with disappointment. "Well… Delivery it is."

Mandy

The blonde reporter closed her laptop once it finished powering down. Her work for the day finished. A satisfied smile on her face as she leaned back in her chair and pulled out her phone to check all her social media accounts for anything that seemed salacious.

News in the MMA world traveled quickly and if you didn't pay constant attention it would pass you by. With someone else getting the increased traffic that came with being first. Mandy hated the idea of missing out on any chance for increasing her profile no matter how small.

She hadn't gone to college for this job. Just starting a blog and being an attractive blonde had given her a built-in audience that wasn't difficult to appease. Coming from where she did gave Mandy the advantage of not caring for the outdated concept of journalistic integrity. Not following the 'ethics' of journalism had allowed her to flourish online in an age where being first was more important than being correct.

Click-bait would be an accurate description of Mandy's style but she had no qualms about it. Wearing the accusations as a mark of pride. Why wouldn't she try to get the most views on her stories? It would be stupid and self-sabotage to let something like due process or personal privacy get in the way of advancing her career.

The news lately had been relatively slow. Ric Flair's funeral dominating most headlines with retrospectives and musing on his life and legacy.

Mandy was just about to declare there to be nothing of interest to her when she got a call from a name she hadn't seen in some time. Not since they had been cut off from the source of their insider information.

Still, the out of the blue call piqued her curiosity and Mandy answered with an open mind. "Didn't think I'd hear from you after she kicked you to the curb. You have thirty seconds to stop me from just hanging up. What do you got for me Carmella?"

The phone call lasted quite a bit more than thirty seconds.

Bayley/Becky/Charlotte

Becky pulled up in front of the gym. Throwing her freshly purchased 2019 red Jeep Wrangler into park and taking a moment to gather herself before going inside.

Charlotte had insisted that Becky needed to be here this morning but hadn't been forthcoming with exactly why.

Even though she had no plans prior to step inside the gym Becky relented and texted that she would stop by. Her plans for the rest of the day hopefully only delayed by a bit.

She looked at the paper sitting in the passenger seat that listed several apartments around Boston than fit what she was looking for.

Money wasn't a huge problem for her anymore. Not after getting two win bonuses and living so frugal since coming to Boston. The jeep had been an impulse buy. The need to be able to get away from everything finding her walking over a mile to the dealership and buying it outright. If Becky had been in a better mood she may have laughed at the stunned expression of the dealer when she interrupted his practiced speech and told him to go get the papers, or else she would find another dealer to give the commission.

Looking for an apartment of her own away from the gym was something she probably should have been looking into a long time ago. As much as she hated to admit fear had been a primary reason for not moving out the gym.

Becky sighed loudly in the jeep's interior. Not excited to go face whatever Charlotte needed her for but wanting to get it out of the way as quick as possible. Slipping on the pair of jet black aviator glasses she had just paid way too much for and stepping outside in the chilly Boston air.

Right when she entered the gym Becky had a bad feeling about this. Something about the silence had her on edge in seconds. Not bothering to take off her sunglasses as if they would somehow help shield whatever was coming.

"Charlotte?" She called out as she walked through the lobby. Mumbling quietly to herself, "If this isn't important I'm going to be pissed."

The blonde's voice rang out from her office and down the stairs. Easy to hear without the normal noise level in the gym. "I'm up here."

Becky rolled her eyes and stuffed her hands deep in her jacket pockets. "Are your legs broken?"

"Just come up… Please."

Her steps were slow and unhurried. Moving up the stairs at a glacial pace with her entire body screaming how much she didn't want to be here right now.

Charlotte was waiting for her in the doorway to the office behind her and was looking at Becky in a way that didn't sit well with her. She couldn't put her finger on it but something in the blonde's eyes was already setting off early warning bells.

"Well? What the hell am I here for?" Becky asked while making no effort to hide her displeasure.

"How about you step in my office. That way this conversation can actually happen."

Becky shook her head and slowly began to walk past Charlotte into the office. "We already talked. What more is there to say?"

Charlotte waited until Becky had stepped inside the office before responding. "I never said that I needed to speak with you." Closing the door behind herself and locking them inside, "Be angry at me if you need to. This was mostly my idea."

The words registered somewhere in Becky's mind but they never got processed. Her entire focus shifting as rapidly as her heartbeat raced.

She wasn't ready for this. She didn't know if she ever would be, but this… This was way too early.

"Hey, Bayley. Long time no see."

In this moment Becky truly hated that Bayley knew her so well. Her best armor recently was nonchalance and playing things off like they didn't bother her but the reporter knew that.

Bayley might know the Becky Lynch of today, but the old Becky might have a few tricks up her sleeve.

She knew the small smile she put on was forced, and that Bayley would easily see through it but she tried anyway.

Bayley had only been waiting for about ten minutes, but it had felt like an hour. During that time she'd tried hard to think about what she might say if/when Becky arrived. Everything she'd come up with had felt horribly artificial and staged. She was still grappling with this problem when the moment arrived.

"H-hey Becks," was all she managed to say.

Becky kept quiet for a moment. Already finding it difficult to listen to Bayley speaking so unsurely. Her hands formed fists that were hidden inside pockets, attempting to redirect her stress away from showing through her face. The lens of her sunglasses helped hide the truth that she knew Bayley would be able to see. She wasn't fine, but the thought of adding to Bayley's guilt was unacceptable. "So… What are we doing here? I'm assuming Charlotte set this up for a reason."

"I asked her to…" Bayley said as she stood, and made a herculean effort to not look down at the floor. She knew she looked like a mess, and that her eyes were probably still a bit red, but she forced herself to look at Becky. "I...I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am."

The redhead just shrugged. "No need. You shouldn't have to apologize for having good taste." Becky grinned widely and wiggled her eyebrows above the top of her aviators. "But if you want I wouldn't say no to a sample before you go. On the house."

As answers went, this was not what Bayley had been hoping for. It was, in fact, not an answer at all. It was the kind of deflection that the Becky she'd first met would have used. She thought they'd moved past that, but it seemed she'd pushed them right back. Bayley couldn't think of anything to say to it however, so she just gave a grimace-like smile.

Charlotte saw that Becky had already thrown Bayley off and stepped in. "Becky. Can you be serious right now."

Several popping noises filled the room when the Irish woman rolled her neck. Her grin dropping for a moment before she shrugged again and it returned. "I guess… Let's get this over with." She said.

Bayley took a deep breath and said: "I know that I hurt you Becky, and I am sorry. But I don't want to lose you as a friend and- damnit…" Bayley said as her voice broke and she looked down. She was furious at herself for crying at this moment. Becky would never respect someone who got weepy after one sentence.

Becky's lips pursed as she tried to fight the inherent desire to beat up whoever made Bayley cry. It just wasn't a sight she liked seeing. It felt wrong. There was a part of her that thought maybe this would be easier if the other woman hated her but she quickly shot that down. "It's fine... We're fine. Don't worry about it." Her armor already failing her and allowing a small hiccup in her cadence that most wouldn't think anything of.

"No...no…" Bayley said as she sniffed "...I sorry, I just…" She trailed off and made herself to take a few steadying breaths. She forced her voice back to normal as she said: "I'm sorry I ruined things Becky but I hope we can be friends again. If you're not ready I understand but...someday?"

There had never been a moment in Becky's life when she had thanked sunglasses, but there's a first for everything. She wanted to stop speaking as soon as she started but forged onward despite how shaky her voice was. "You didn't ruin anything." Pausing for a moment to try and pull together her heart for the next few minutes at least. A fresh and hopefully more convincing smile back on her face. "It's all good. There wasn't a moment when we weren't friends… I just needed some time to put things in perspective." Purposefully avoiding talking about her relapse and trying to move past it.

Bayley nodded, glad she was feeling a bit more in control. Standing slowly, she approached Becky. Moving very slowly, as though she thought Becky might flee at any second. When she was only a few feet from the Irish woman, her eyes fixed on Becky's sunglasses, she carefully drew the chain holding her 4-month sobriety chip from under her shirt.

"I know you gave this time me hoping it would mean something else. I know you wanted to give it to your girlfriend, and I just wish I could be her…" she said as she slowly unclasped the chain behind her neck "...But maybe you'd still like to give it to her someday?" She said this last as she offered the chain to Becky. Bayley was pleased her voice was calm, though she knew that she had to look like she might cry again at any moment.

Becky was glad her hands were still deep in her pockets as Bayley approached, lest the brunette see how tightly her fists clenched.

When Bayley held out necklace she wasn't sure what felt worse; Bayley initially rejecting her, or this. Fighting back to urge to recoil from the chip like she would be burnt if it touched her. "Keep it." Becky paused to suck in a breath. "It would probably just end up in a trash can."

Bayley nodded as she stepped slowly forward, again giving Becky every chance to pull away. When she didn't Bayley wrapped her in a hug during which she tried to convey all the love and comfort she possibly could. She sensed Becky tensing at first but Bayley didn't let go. As she hugged Becky she brought her lips next to Becky's ear and whispered: "I'll take good care of it until you replace it with another one."

Becky forced herself to stay in Bayley's arms and pretend like everything was normal, but it was impossible. She was tense from the first contact and no matter how hard she tried to relax into the hug like she had always been able to before,) it never came.

She was able to return the hug and coax her arms around the reporter but knew the gesture was a cover. A way to try and convince Bayley that she was alright when she had no clue if she was.

Rather than respond Becky just nodded stiffly. Her eyes dropping to the floor behind mirrored lenses. The guilt from making Bayley so sad keeping her mouth shut.

Bayley sensed Becky's discomfort so when she released her she turned away. Looking at Charlotte she made her way over to the other woman and hugged her as well. But as Charlotte bent down to receive the hug Bayley hid her lips in Charlotte's blonde hair and whispered: "Take care of her, OK?"

Charlotte peered over at a statue like Becky. Whispering back, "I'll do my best."

Becky watched the exchange with rapt attention. Her mind suddenly swirling with a cacophony of thoughts that seemed to all be trying to shout over the others.

Breaking away from Charlotte Bayley put a hand on her arm before she walked to the door. Putting a hand on her roller bag, she managed the first legitimate smile of the day as she looked back at the room and said: "I'll see you both soon." Then she was gone.

Charlotte looked over at the woman still standing perfectly still in her office and shook her head. "You could have at least taken off the sunglasses and looked her in the eye."

"What would you know?" Becky sniped back in an already defeated tone.

"I know you just hurt the only person who actually believed in you from day one. It certainly wasn't me." Becky turned on Charlotte, "Don't get mad, I'm just being honest. I thought you were a risk from day one. Bayley was the only person other than my dad to tell me you were worth it. To stick it out."

Becky didn't know if she could respond without breaking down so she simply remained quiet.

"It took me a while but I think I've seen what they were talking about." Charlotte turned towards the door started to walk out herself. "But I have to be honest. You can be your own worst enemy." Looking back over her shoulder before leaving. "But you don't have to be."

Becky could have whipped out a sarcastic comment but chose to remain silent. Continuing to stand even once Charlotte had been long gone.

The regret that washed over her came suddenly and Becky sprinted out of the office and into the parking lot hoping to catch Bayley before she left, but the brunette was nowhere to be found. Probably long gone by the time Becky actually acted, came out prepared to apologize for acting like an ass and beg for forgiveness.

All that greeted her was a mostly empty parking lot and a fresh helping of disappointment in herself. The silence inside her new Jeep only lasting for a few seconds before she couldn't stand it anymore and started her playlist. The beginning chords of Pearl Jam's "Just Breathe" filling the space and seeming to mock her mood.

She and Bayley had first found common ground with their taste in music.

Becky punched the power button and turned the radio off after the lyrics kicked in. Sitting back in her seat with one hand moving to her forehead. Finally pulling off her sunglasses and throwing them into the seat next to her. The red eyes and tears they had helped hide finally exposed.

Only one word could sum up Becky's emotions right now. "Fuck… FUCK-FUCK-FUCK!" Fist bouncing off the steering wheel to punctuate each word before she deflated and slumped down in her seat. "...Fuck me."

Sasha

It didn't surprise Sasha at all to find that Zelina had moved out when she got back to her home. She supposed that, under most circumstances, someone would be devastated to find that their fiance had left. Sasha found that she didn't much care.

She wasn't even pleased or relived. Which she would have expected. It was as though Zelina Vega was a matter of total indifference to her. This apathy was so strong that she wasn't even annoyed to find that Zelina had decamped with several items that had definitely been bought with Sasha's money. In Sasha's calculations, they seemed a small price to pay.

Yet, though she'd probably never even LIKED Zelina, the house did seem particularly empty now. Dropping heavily onto one of her couches Sasha automatically drew out her phone and began to thumb through her contacts. It was sobering to realize that with over two hundred names in her phone, none were her friends. Many of them would drop everything to come over this instant, some would even sleep with her, but she wasn't close with any of them.

Sighing, Sasha let her head slump back so she could stare up at the ceiling. Teddy had called shortly after she'd landed to inform her that Simon Dean had also quit. This wasn't any great loss in itself, but it was fairly in keeping with her circumstances at the moment. Those she hadn't driven away were leaving on their own. Leaving Sasha alone, or almost alone.

There was still the Boss.

Sasha could almost SEE her other side in front of her. Identical her in every way, clad in flashy clothes and her trademark jewelry. The Boss beckoned, as she always did, with the easy way out. Sasha could go back to her and sink back into a world where anger and superficiality would shield her not only from the world at large but her own feelings as well.

It had been easy to leave her behind when she'd gone to Boston. The very real grief she'd been feeling over Ric had held the Boss at bay to the point where Sasha could almost have forgotten she was still there. It had even been easy to toss her rings into that grave, to hope that gesture by itself would be enough.

But now, back in her own slime pit again...it was different.

Sasha had actually ordered multiple copies of her boss jewelry and she was staring now at one of her other pairs of sunglasses. She didn't remember placing them on the coffee table but there they were.

Sasha had created the Boss originally to help her. Sasha Banks was fallible, nervous, and a little scared of the MMA world she'd been stepping into. But the boss? She was confident, self-assured, and not scared of anything or anyone. The fact that she'd shared Sasha Banks' face and voice didn't matter. The boss was Sasha's protector, or she was supposed to be. Somewhere along the way, she'd become her master.

On some level, Sasha had known this for a very long time. She was also aware that this wouldn't make sense to any rational person who heard it. Because in addition to being the master, the Boss was also a dodge. A way for Sasha to avoid accountability for her own actions, not just from others...but with herself.

Now, the glasses almost called to her. Life could be easy and pleasurable again. Who cared if it was hollow and lonely. She could just continue to use the money, drugs, booze, and sex to fill her life. She could get comfortable there again, and just coast. There was no one to stop her and now that Zelina was gone, no one she even had to pretend to care about.

All of that was sitting in front of her.

Yet, she didn't want to take it.

Perhaps Boston had affected her even more profoundly than she realized. But she suspected there was to it than that. Her conversation with Becky Lynch that night in the gym had left a lasting mark. Their discussion of Bayley had driven home to Sasha just how far gone she was. Bayley did indeed ALWAYS see the best in people, they both knew that. But this just made it all the more damning that she seemed to have given up on Sasha.

What kind of a monster would it take, for Bayley Martinez to walk away from them?

Even the boss couldn't make Sasha want to be THAT person. Or voluntarily return to being them.

Standing, and walking past the glasses she found herself in her kitchen. Sasha had thought before that it didn't really make sense to call the room a 'kitchen'. It had top of the line appliances and was equipped well enough to make a 5-star chef envious. And yet it wasn't really a kitchen, 'food storage' was a better term as Sasha never cooked. Or at least she hadn't in a long time.

Then her thoughts strayed back to Bayley, the person Sasha missed most in the world. And the one whom she had the least idea of how to try and get back. If that would be even possible. But for now, she'd have to settle for a memory. In their earliest days together, Sasha HAD cooked for Bayley. Not much, and with no variety, but she'd done it. She only known, and still only knew, one dish: blueberry banana pancakes.

It took Sasha a very long time to get started considering this was, notionally, her own kitchen. But as she'd noted before, she didn't spend much time in here. But when she'd finally managed to gather all the ingredients she would need, she set to work.

It struck Sasha how easily she remembered and carried out the steps. Sifting the flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar and then adding the eggs and butter. She stirred and stirred until she had a smooth batter before adding the blueberries and bananas. Then she heated the pan, added the butter, and waited until it was the right temperature. Doing her best to pour out equal sized discs Sasha made far too many pancakes for someone who lived on her own.

She made enough for two people.

When she finally turned off the stove she took a plate and two pancakes for herself. This wasn't at all within her 'fighting' diet, but it seemed she had a few months vacation in front of her anyway. Grabbing syrup and butter from her fridge she sat down at the island and added these last two things to the cakes in front of her. As she sat, she just happened to look around the cavernous kitchen.

She was still alone.

Her face falling Sasha picked up her silverware with hands that suddenly trembled. She managed to cut herself three bites before the silverware clattered down to the plate. Sasha had just looked to her side and seen the row of empty stools there. As she'd done so, she could only imagine the person who should have been there. As she did, all appetite fled her. Standing so quickly that her stool fell backward, Sasha almost ran out of the kitchen. Fleeing both the enormous mess she'd made and the ghosts there.

Everywhere she looked and went it seemed that the house was taunting her. Looking out the large windows that faced the ocean, she imagined what it would have been like to sit on the balcony with Bayley. Passing her workout room she imagined the reporter looking up as she ran on the treadmill, and giving Sasha that perfect smile. In the study, she could picture Bayley sitting at the desk, absolutely focused on her laptop with her tongue protruding slightly from her lips.

It could have been perfect, it should have been.

But Sasha had ruined it. And it was with this sobering knowledge that she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. As she walked she automatically noted several pieces of memorabilia that had, apparently, moved out with Zelina. Not that it mattered to her. Stepping into the palatial bedroom, the site of so many attempts to blot out her conscience or hide from her issues, Sasha suddenly found she couldn't stomach the idea of sleeping there.

So it was in one of her home's five guest bedrooms that she dropped, fully clothed, onto a bed. In a perfect world, sleep would have claimed her then and there But of course it didn't. So she was forced to reflect, and mourn for what might have been until she finally drifted off to sleep.

Bayley

Bayley's trip back across the country was long and depressing.

She spent most of the trip staring listlessly out the window, lost in her thoughts. Ordinarily, Bayley paid to access wifi on flights but she wasn't going to even try to work today. Her mind was still back in Boston. Still with Becky.

Unconsciously her hand kept rising to her neck to touch the chain that held Becky's gift. The memory of their exchange over it was still enough to make Bayley feel depressed. The haunted and haggard look in Becky's eyes, the way she'd spoken. Bayley felt like the biggest villain in the world right now. It was a role she was just not meant to play. Some people like Becky or Sasha could power through such things, even gain strength from being the 'bad guy'. Not Bayley.

Bayley wasn't soft-hearted in any traditional sense. When pushed she never hesitated to stand her ground. She'd once stared down an angry Brock Lesnar while he threw a tantrum over a question she'd asked him. And she could be downright ferocious if she felt like someone was attacking one of her friends.

Maybe the term 'kind-hearted' would be more accurate. Bayley hated the idea of causing other's pain, especially if they were close to her. In an odd way, she would shy from a confrontation with friends and family. This was demonstrated most aptly in her relationship with Sasha Banks. Rather than meet Sasha head-on in a confrontational manner, which would have only resulted in an argument that would have accomplished nothing she'd perfected a kind of 'bend but not break' method. Allowing people to rage themselves out while staying calmly within herself.

But that approach wouldn't work here. Becky wasn't mad, in fact, it would have been MUCH easier to deal with. Becky was hurt, and worse, she was hurting and she was spiraling. What made Bayley feel all the worse was that she was helpless in this situation. Because she was the cause of Becky's current state, Becky wouldn't allow her to help.

She blamed herself for this as well. It was selfish of her to be concerned about how helpless SHE felt. This was Becky's crisis and not hers. But Bayley had allowed herself to be arrogant enough to take on the role of 'problem solver' for both Becky and Charlotte. And look how that had turned out for her. She'd very nearly lost Charlotte and now it seemed she'd lost Becky.

How could she let this happen?

Breaking another norm for herself, Bayley had a glass of wine on the flight. And then another. She was three in by the time she landed in LA. She'd hoped that the drinking might help raise her mood and allow the rest of the day to pass in a pleasant haze. She'd been wrong about this as well though, it was becoming something an unfortunate trend with her. Rather than lifting her mood, it just made her even more depressed.

It was a positively melancholy Bayley that slunk into the back of her rideshare. After giving her address, Bayley slouched in her seat and took out her phone. Still, no response from Becky, though she did have a few messages from Charlotte. It did manage to make her grin feebly to think that she and Charlotte were not only back on good terms, but that the other woman cared enough to reach out.

She also had another message from a number she didn't initially recognize. Then she saw the area code and realized it could only be about one person. One of her sources that she'd cultivated while in Boston, specifically one to do with the hush-hush dealings Charlotte was having with Bob Orton. Bayley had forgotten about the issue because it had become irrelevant to the story she'd ended up writing about Becky. As such, she hadn't contacted those sources for many weeks, so it was odd to see them reaching out now. Whatever the case she resolved to deal with it later as she started composing a message to Becky.

Hey, Becks...I miss you and I wish I could make it so that night never happened. But I can't so I just want to tell you that I love you and I will always be your friend and that you can always reach out to me.

Love, Bayley

She stared at this message for a long time, unsure if she should send it. She was worried she might be pushing Becky away by reaching out too often. But, in the end, she decided that she couldn't handle not doing anything. So she sent the message and then started to read Charlotte's messages.

Most were fairly generic expressions of support, which Bayley appreciated even if they didn't make her feel any better. But there was something odd about the messages when viewed as a body. Extracting meaning from such things was part of Bayley's job as a journalist so she did it automatically. Charlotte's messages told the tale of someone who was trying very hard to be supportive but was also under a great deal of strain.

For example, when she was trying to reassure Bayley, Charlotte's messages were very friendly. Full of emojis and punctuation. Where there were misspellings they were obviously deliberate. But when Charlotte spoke about her day at the gym, things changed. The words were very clipped and precise. Grammatically impeccable and yet giving the impression that they were delivered through clenched teeth. Bayley decided she would call Charlotte when she got home. Not only was she worried, but it would also make her feel better to be useful.

She didn't end up making the call.

When she got back home she leafed through her mail and then threw most of it away. Next, she turned on some music because she couldn't stand the idea of being alone in silence. After that, she picked up the phone and dialed for some Clex's delivery, and dealt with a surprisingly sullen and uncooperative employee. Which was odd because the restaurant was usually very friendly. Even the driver, when they arrived late, was cold to her. It was almost as though the company had somehow taken against her.

Or maybe she was just seeing sadness everywhere now.

Her next step was to call Emma and invite the other woman over the next day. She'd been horribly absentee to her friend as of late. It was only then that she noticed that one of the pieces of mail had fallen as she'd moved the pile. Picking it up she was surprised to see that it was addressed to 'Bay' and not 'Bayley'. There were really only four people, aside from her parents, who called her that. And she wasn't speaking with one of them.

Picking up the envelope she opened it, wondering if it could be some kind of weird tip. Reaching inside she drew out a pair of tickets. Turning them over, her eyes bugged out of her head as she saw they were courtside Warriors tickets. These must have cost a small fortune, well that ruled out Emma as the sender at least. Bayley's friend was a Herpetologist specializing in large reptiles. She did very well, but not so well that she could splurge like this.

That left Charlotte or...

Bayley froze at this thought. The mail couldn't have arrived today, she hadn't gotten it yet. So it had probably been sent a few days ago at least. Her hand was quivering now as she reached into the envelope and drew out a small folded note. Unfolding it she read: 'Hope you can find someone to take'. But there was no signature. Unable to tear her eyes away from the note her shaking hand dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

"Call, Charlotte Flair," she told it in a voice that threatened to break at any moment. It would be almost 4 AM on the East Coast, but she wasn't aware of this at the moment. Or anything else. She listened as the phone rang.

Charlotte's phone lit up her bedroom and woke the blonde from her sleep. Lethargically reaching to her bedside table and picking up the device. Briefly looking at the Caller ID before picking up. Her voice still heavy and slow with sleep. "Hello?"

Without bothering with any sort preamble Bayley asked: "Charlotte…?"

"Bayley… What are you calling for?" Her mind finally starting to wake up. "Did something happen? Are you alright?"

Bayley didn't even hear her friends word as she spoke in a hollow voice: "Did...did you buy me, us, basketball tickets?"

"You called me at four in the morning to ask if I bought basketball tickets?" Charlotte's tone incredulous and slightly annoyed.

"Charlotte!" Bayley said in a voice she hardly recognized. It was more of a desperate plea for reassurance than anything.

"Alright! Alright. No. I did not buy you basketball tickets. Happy?"

Bayley never answered, the phone just dropped from her hand at the same time as the envelope. The awful truth that she had suspected since seeing the tickets confirmed to her. Horror, sadness, and guilt welled up inside of her, threatning to make her burst.

Charlotte's voice continued to buzz through the phone. "Bayley? What the hell was that? Bayley? Bay! This better not be some weird joke… Come on answer me Bay."

Becky

Bayley had been gone for some time now and Becky had tried to refind her normal.

Her new studio apartment had almost no furniture other than a foldable rocking chair, a small table she had picked up at a local homegoods store, and a mattress she had shipped over and thrown onto the floor. Not bothering to set up the frame or headboard and opting to let it remain on the ground. Throwing on some high thread count and expensive black sheets she had found at the same store.

The only other thing she had bothered having set-up was a wireless modem so she could access the internet through the shiny new laptop that sat on the floor. Tiny speakers filling the room with two voices that sent her blood pressure skyrocketing dangerously high.

Back before her injury Becky had been one of the saviest fighters when it came to self promotion over social media. Using every platform to drive her name into the public consciousness with ease. After the injury her posting had become less creative and revolved mostly around Carmella. One her more infamous moments in her downward spiral being a ten minute long livestream from her phone where Becky was high on pain pills, drinking and rambling about nothing with an equally smashed Carmella trying to get her attention by any means necessary.

Since her return to the ring Becky had made a concerted effort to avoid social media and try to focus on herself rather than uneducated opinions of her. But when she noticed her own name trending on a news outlet Becky couldn't stop herself from finding out why.

Forcing herself to watch Mandy interview Carmella while her blood slowly worked up far past the boiling point.

"-that would mean Ms. Martinez has been lying to the media then. Correct?" Mandy's voice serious and outraged.

"That's right. When Becky came onto me I had no idea that they had been together for months. I was so angry at her for putting me in that position." Carmella sounding every bit the aggrieved party. Her voice wavering so perfectly that Becky knew it had been practiced extensively prior to this interview.

"As one would." Supplying her interviewee with a fresh tissue to dab at her damp eyes.

"I just think that Bayley clearly deserves better than someone who would cheat at a great man's funeral. Even if she is upset now I know one day she will thank me."

"Coming forward is the only way to take the power away from women like Becky Lynch. You were incredibly brave to do so."

"Thank you. I really struggled with the decision to share my story." Carmella made sure to flutter her eyes and give Mandy a grateful look. Pretending to blow her nose into a tissue before finding her best angle on the monitor behind the cameras.

"Thanks so much for your time and openness, Ms. Dale." Mandy turned to directly address the camera, "Before we leave today I would feel guilty if I didn't ask the hard questions. I hate doing this to a fellow journalist but I have to call into question Ms. Martinez' journalistic integrity. It's only logical to question what else she would be willing to lie about after her rebuffing of earlier rumors. If she would like, I would graciously extend an invitation to Martinez to come onto 'The Rose Report' and explain herself. Until next time this has be-"

Becky slammed the lid of her laptop shut. Vibrating with barely restrained rage. Giving half a thought to chucking the laptop through a wall for that fleeting moment of catharsis before deciding that wouldn't solve anything.

She had no idea which part of the interview angered her more. Every sentence was just more misinformation or attempted character assassination.

The urge to defend herself and Bayley from Carmella's twisted version of reality had the Irish woman quickly jumping onto her phone and contemplating what to do.

A fresh layer of anger thrown on top when her first thought was to call Bayley and see what she wanted to do about this. But that would require Becky actually talking to her and it simply wasn't going to happen in her current frame of mind. Even seeing red she knew talking to Bayley in her current mood would only lead to her saying something she would regret.

Early afternoon sunlight beamed in through her windows and heralded the arrival of an idea to set things right quickly.

After calling in a quick favor and dealing with an initially skeptical producer Becky got through to her target.

"It's already been a busy day here on the Hypecast, but we have a last minute call in that I couldn't refuse. Becky Lynch joins us. Becky are you there?"

"Of course."

"Considering the recent Rose Report I assume you have something you'd like to say."

Becky rolled her eyes and paced the length of her apartment. "No shit. Would you sit by and say nothing while someone lies about you on national television."

"By all means. The floor is yours, Becky. I appreciate you calling in even if it was completely unexpected."

"You were the only MMA show on live right now." Becky deadpanned. "Just shut up and listen. I don't know what her game is, but everything in that interview was a lie. Maybe Mella can't take being rejected, but I don't know and I don't care."

Mojo tried to reign in the conversation, "Carmella said a lot in that interview. If she is lying; What actually happened?"

Becky scoffed. "If? I know she is lying. For one: She came to Ric's funeral in a dress that had less fabric than some swimsuits. If I had the choice I'd never see her again but she won't let it go."

"We're getting a bit off topic. What was she lying about?"

The pacing stopped and Becky breathed in through her nose to try and calm herself. "She came onto me for starters. I've wanted nothing to do with her for over a year and that hasn't changed."

"Alright. What about the rest of her claims? I have to admit that me and Bayley Martinez do have a professional relationship but I will be as objective as I can be. Bayley has been on this very show and rebuked the rumors that you two were in a… personal relationship. Carmella claims that you and Bayley confirmed to her that both of you have been an item for months."

Becky's voice raised. "She didn't do anything wrong." Suddenly she wasn't sure if she was speaking more to Mojo or herself. "She made a joke about us dating to get Carmella to stop screwing with me. She left and we went back to the funeral. That's it."

"Is it possible Carmella thought the joke was actually genuine?"

The question's wording tripped Becky up. Her mind automatically swapping out Carmella's name for her own. "Only a completely oblivious moron would think that." Pausing a moment before remembering herself and adding, "Even if she did believe the joke was real she still made up all that other crap.

"So she-"

"And another thing!" Becky interrupted Mojo. "That blonde waste of space really needs to keep her mouth shut."

"Mandy Rose?"

"YES MANDY FUCKING ROSE! Who else would I be talking about? Keep up Mojo Jojo. The Man is talking. I'm done listening to her lie about my life like she is the authority. The next time I see her she better run in the opposite direction."

"We are running a bit short on time but I want to make sure we clarify a point. I hate to ask, but I want to make sure to give you the final word on the subject. You and Bayley have not been together romantically at any point in time and she never lied when asked about it. Is that correct?"

Becky swallowed and stopped pacing. "There was never anything romantic about it… She was nice to me when I hadn't earned it. We became friends. Nothing more to it. I'm pissed that I even have to explain this. This entire story is like a TMZ nightmare. Even if we were together, what would be so bad about it? Huh? Why would it be so bad?" She asked while wishing she had the courage to ask who she really wanted to.

"I'm-

"It's not even any of your business what the hell I do with my personal life."

"Becky-" Mojo tried to speak before being talked over.

"Why the fuck does anyone care anyways? Is me having a life that interesting?" Becky stopped to breathe for a moment after her rant. "I'm done."

"What do you mean-" Mojo started before the line abruptly disconnected.

Sasha

Sasha was, for the first time in over a year, feeling self-conscious.

The keyword being that 'Sasha' was self-conscious. The Boss was never self-conscious, she owned every room she entered simply as part of the act of doing so. But Sasha was trying to bury the boss. And her errand today would hopefully help her accomplish this.

Despite not wearing the rings or glasses, Sasha still looked like the boss. Her jacket had cost several thousand dollars, and that was nothing on her boots. The whole look simply didn't fit in the neighborhood she was in. In many ways, it reminded her of the streets around the Flair gym in Boston. The same cracked pavement, faded signs, and general air of neglect. The only difference being that at least this place was warm and sunny, so it had that at least. But if her clothes weren't enough to indelibly mark her as an outsider...the magenta Lamborghini Aventador certainly was.

Her visit to this place hadn't gotten off to a good start. The strip mall had a large sign in front of it that listed the business' present, but had somehow neglected to label them on the building itself. Sasha also privately doubted how up to date the sign was because most of the spaces seemed to be empty. But she guessed that her destination would be one of the two larger anchor spots on either end of the complex. So figuring she had a 50-50 shot to get it right on the first try, Sasha picked one.

She had chosen...poorly.

Upon stepping inside the building it had taken her eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim light. But when they had it became very obvious that this couldn't be a gym. The room was very large but it was mostly filled by long rows of folding tables with rickety chairs. There was some kind of dais on one side of the room and then a kind of cube on another wall. It took her another few moments to realize she might be in a bingo hall.

But she'd had no more time for quiet contemplation after that.

" Oye! ¿Eres la nueva chica?" a sharp voice had demanded of her. Whirling around she'd found herself facing a short, annoyed-looking, woman holding a carpet sweeper. Sasha had tried to learn some Spanish when she'd been friends with Bayley. But she'd found she just didn't have a head for languages. All this to mean she'd only understood the word ' chica'.

"Uh, I'm sorry I think I'm in the wrong place-" she started to say but then she got cut off.

" ¡Llegas tarde! Te contraté para estar en un momento determinado! ¿Por qué debería pagarte si no haces tu maldito trabajo?" the short woman demanded, her eyes flashing.

"I'm just going to-" Sasha tried to explain as she pointed toward the door, only to take a quick step back as the woman hurried forward brandishing the carpet sweeper.

" ¡Ponte a trabajar! ¡Ahora!" she snapped, once again trying to make Sasha take the sweeper.

"OK...bye," Sasha said turning to leave. She was almost to the exit when something passed so close by her head that she felt it brush the top of her hair. A second later she saw something blue hit the wall in front of her. Looking down at it she realized it was a flip-flop.

"What the hell?" she asked, starting to get annoyed. But as soon as she started to turn another flip-flop hit her full in the face.

" ¿No quieres trabajar? ¡Multa! ¡Salí! ¡Estás despedida!" the woman bellowed as she reached for her back pocket.

"Hey! Now just a damned-" Sasha said before being forced to duck behind a trash can as yet another flip-flop zipped through the air like a fastball. "WHY DO YOU HAVE MORE THAN TWO SHOES?!" Sasha demanded from behind her cover. When she finally managed to escape the building, it was only after being struck twice more.

So it was a slightly miffed Sasha that pushed into the other anchor section of the building. This was most definitely a gym, or maybe it had been. If the Flair gym had been a bit rundown, this one looked positively dilapidated. There only seemed to be three people present, two sparring in a ring that threatened to collapse at any moment, and third watching them. She was beginning to wonder if she'd gotten the wrong address when someone cleared their throat from behind her.

"Yeah?" a tall and extremely powerful looking man asked her testily.

"Are you Meng?" Sasha asked. She guessed this was who she'd come to see but she wasn't sure.

"Who's asking?" the man demanded. Sasha almost said something waspish like 'you know damned well who I am' but bit this back.

"I'm Sasha Banks," she said, offering a hand that the man ignored.

"Yeah, I know who you are," he grumbled as he turned to walk away.

Annoyed despite her best efforts, Sasha demanded: "Than why did you ask?"

Meng rounded on her and snarled: "Isn't this my gym?"

"Yeah?" Sasha shot back, not flinching.

"Then I can do whatever the fuck I want," he countered. Sasha narrowed her eyes at this, not so much at his words but at the realization that this was something she'd say. She didn't speak as Meng walked away, she didn't even react until his gruff voice cut across her thoughts.

"Are you coming or not?"

A minute later Sasha found herself sitting in an imbalanced chair in an office that was less than one eighth the size of her closet. For all of that, Meng had managed to cram an improbable amount of stuff into it. Sasha thought that any sudden movements might result in them both of them being buried under an avalanche of paper.

"What do you want?" Meng asked, sounding bored as he painstakingly typed something out on his ancient computer using two fingers.

Sasha had to bite back another retort before she said: "I wanted to ask you to train me?"

"Way I hear it, you don't 'ask' for much Banks, ever."

Sasha gritted her teeth before nodding and saying: "Maybe, but I AM asking you."

"Why should I?"

Sasha blinked at this, thinking he might be asking about compensation she said: "Well, I can offer you generous terms-" But Meng cut her off with a loud snort.

"Not 'how much', why should I train you?" he demanded.

"I don't understand the question."

Meng gave her a pitying look before saying: "You had the best-damned trainer in the business, you might be talented Banks but you're where you're at because of Bobby Lashley. Then you dumped him and went with the fuck wit, Simon Dean. Why should I bother training someone who would rather have a spineless dumbass than a good trainer?"

Sasha clenched her fists at this reminder of her mistakes. She wasn't mad at Meng, she was mad at herself. She knew full well that she'd thrown away a great thing on a temper tantrum, and now she was forced to try and find a new way.

"I made a mistake-" she began to say but Meng barked a laugh.

"I should fucking say so, you had the best god damn MMA trainer in the US and probably the world on hand and you pissed that away. Smart move 'boss'," Meng taunted. Sasha had to close her eyes and take a deep breath before she could answer.

"Well, you trained Lashley, didn't you? Doesn't that make you better?" she countered. But Meng just laughed again.

"Oh, is that your angle? You thought that old Meng would be able to outsmart his apprentice for you? This isn't a fucking movie Banks, wake up. I might have taught Bobby everything I know but he's damn sure learned a lot more since then. So no, I'm not better than him," he said derisively.

Sasha closed her eyes and said: "I need your help, sir, what can I do to get it?"

"SIR now is it? Did you ever extend that courtesy to Bobby I wonder?" Of course, maybe I'm giving him too much credit. He made you, so I'm sure he didn't put his foot down hard enough early on before you turned into whatever you are now," Meng mocked.

"Hey-" Sasha began to say but Meng pounded his desk for silence.

"No! You shut up for this part!..." he thundered "...But whatever mistakes he made with you I know he LOVED you. We talked and still talk and he was so proud of you. And unless you ARE as dumb as you seem then you had to know that. And you STILL tossed him aside. So I'm asking you again, why should I bother with the woman who did that to my friend?"

Sasha felt like hanging her head, but she didn't. Narrowing her eyes challengingly she glared back at Meng and whispered challengingly: "Because if you were half the hardass YOU pretend to be, you'd want to do it just BECAUSE Bobby is the best in the world. You'd want to know if you could beat THAT."

The silence that followed this remark was molten. And it stretched.

Meng broke it first.

"You have access to one of those high-end sports complexes right?" was all he asked.

Sasha was taken aback by the sudden change of subject but she answered saying: "Yeah...the Madjai center."

"Then we'll start there, tomorrow morning at three," Meng said as he returned to his work. Sasha blinked again at this.

"I don't think it's even open at that time…" she said.

"You're Sasha Banks aren't you? GET IT OPEN," Meng snapped.

"You don't want to train me here?" Sasha asked, confused.

Meng sighed heavily as he removed his glasses and glared at her: "What did I say earlier Banks? This is isn't the fucking movies! This isn't the part where the old trainer shows you how we did it 'back in the day. If you've got access to state of the art facilities, why the hell would I want to train you out of this hell hole?"

Sasha decided that the answer was fair enough.

On her way out to her car, her phone buzzed. Taking out of her pocket she looked at it and frowned. Why was Shane McMahon calling her? She got into her car, started it, and transferred the call to its console.

"I thought I didn't meet your 'professional standard' or some shit," was how she answered.

"You don't, but since when do you care?" Shane McMahon answered without a hint of embarrassment. That wasn't surprising, the man was utterly conscienceless.

"What do you want Shane?" Sasha asked as she slumped back against her seat.

"For us to get paid," was the unhelpful answer.

"Oh yeah? How's that?" Sasha answered, determined not to be helpful.

"Banks vs Lynch two," was all Shane said.

Sasha almost rocked backward at this. When she'd won the title off Lynch she'd initially always assumed there would be a rematch one day. But then Lynch had gone through her troubles and Sasha had forgotten about the idea. Even once the Irish fighter had resurfaced, she still hadn't really thought about it. Lynch wasn't her old self and Sasha, whatever her faults, was fully aware that she was on another level. Which awareness, she had to concede, probably caused all or most her problems.

But now, it was actually here.

Sasha knew enough about the business of what she did to know that the money on the line here would be...unprecedented. She could assert, with all humility, that she and Lynch were probably the two biggest personalities to ever happen to women's MMA. The circus around this fight would be every bit as enormous as the purses would be. And for a moment, she was intimidated. Could she handle that? She, meaning Sasha Banks and not the Boss. Sasha desperately wanted to turn over a new leaf in life but the people would want the boss. And Sasha was concerned that if she let herself become the boss again, even a little, that she'd lose herself once more.

Was it worth the price?

It was only then that she realized she hadn't been paying attention to Shane while she'd been thinking. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" she said abruptly. Now it was Shane's turn to fall silent for a long time. Long enough that Sasha had to ask: "Shane?"

"I just- wow...I've NEVER heard you say 'I'm sorry' before," he said, sounding almost disappointed.

Sasha grimaced and just asked: "What did you say?"

"I said..." McMahon sounded testy now "...That if you both sign off I'm guessing we can bring in a new MMA record for money. But it's going to involve the biggest press tour we've ever put on."

This made Sasha even more concerned about her stability. The kind of pressure that would be applied…

"But I'm confident in saying we could see a number north of four million dollars to the winner," McMahon added.

Sasha licked her lips as she stared at the car's screen.

It was decision time.

"I'm in."