Author's Note: I know, you guys probably hate the shit out of me right now and I'm so fucking sorry! I haven't updated in so long but I'm ready to get this puppy in motion again. I've been receiving messages about my return and I think I've found my muse again to write about the mess that is Charlotte and Jon. I'm actually excited seeing as the reception of this story is something I didn't really expect out of it. So with that being said I wish to thank those who reviewed the previous chapter Teanni, ILoveAnime89, ZizFox, Shield316, xSamiliciousx, RollinsInTheDean, ThatGirl54. I'm so sorry for leaving you guys hanging for so long and even to those whom followed and favorited the story – I blow you all the kisses even if my lips get tired of smooching. Honestly speaking, I'm going to try my best to update this story twice a week again. I'm not making promises – but I will promise to put a chapter out every week at the least. Anyways, off we go with the show.

Once again, I owe nothing that corresponds with the WWE – except for Charlote Helana Rove. That is my baby.

XII: Blood & Honey

That night, Jon slept right outside of their hotel room. And by their, he means the devil and his owner. Even if he was inebriated, Jon made sure to fulfill what he calls and has made his duty – and that is to watch over Charlotte whatever way he can. He had to make sure that she was okay, that he, Hayden Park wouldn't hurt her. For his ears were on alert to note any whimper or shout that is to come from that room. But he heard nothing.

It wasn't a rainy nor a thunderous night, but he remembered before they made it back to the hotel, back at the outside of the bar how blushed lips trembled as he rested his head on her shoulder. He remembered that sad gleam in her eyes that twinkled that starlight as they reached her floor back at the hotel. But regardless of that dullness in her stare, there was some sort of recognition in the misty of it all. In a sense, that is what reassured him that the gap between him, the stray dog, and his owner, Charlotte lessened itself. Even if it was barely a budge, at least the two weren't so far apart.

Maybe she's remembering?

Hell, that swing she packed back at the bar was the one he taught her back at Cody's gym nine years ago.

Back home.

In Cincinnati...

Their Cincinnati.

Their home...

That night he fell asleep past his muted chuckles and bitter tears and woke up to that sweet nectar that even in the passing years never changed from what he remembered of it. That poignant scent that managed to tingle ever fiber of his being and bring him back to the time he remembered what it was like to have a home other than the ring itself. Peaches and cream. That musk emitted from the source of his warmth at the moment. The material that was neatly placed on top of him. Just like back then, he knew it was her, there was no denying it.

Whenever he would sleep right outside of her room, he would wake up to her being gone, but him covered in a blanket with a warm plate of food by side him. Jon couldn't help but slightly smile to himself, at the memory and how old habits with Charlotte Helena Rove never died – even if the memories of them two did.

The heavy-nit quilt before him was the reason he slept the night away, well, other than the fact that he had heavy shots of Jameson within the system. Yet, it's what kept him warmth and as his fingers rubbed the texture of the quilt, he noted how it bore resemblance to something of his past. It was the same quilt they would cover themselves with – specifically the time on the bed of his rusty red pick-up truck.

Under the stars of Cincinnati.

Jon's smile quickly faded as he sucked his teeth. The memories he struggled, poisoned, and slaughtered to keep away from his current mindset poured out like nothing in a moment of sheer vulnerability. He remembered before she closed the door how he reached out for her, for her not to go inside, to not go back to Hayden and it angered him. The neglect or her inability to even be with him. To have stayed with him.

He gripped onto the quilt as though it was her shoulders. Just like nine years ago, when he refused to believe that she didn't remember him of all things after the accident. How he was kicked out of the hospital for his inability to remain calm and take in and acknowledge the fact that his baby girl was gone. That his girl wasn't there anymore. Jon held onto that quilt, for although he remains hopeless, this time he knew that somewhere, deep inside of Charlotte, his owner, the only thing he ever loved, remained even throughout all the years – when he was just a figment, a shard of her dreams.

That night, Charlotte went back to the room she shared with her fiancee. But on her way there, before stepping inside of the certain hell on earth, she took in every second she could absorb with Jonathan Good, whom although wasn't in his one-hundred percent state of mind, strongly remained on his feet due to her arms wrapped around his waist, making sure her body supported his so he could walk straight. With his arms around her shoulders, she could, past the whiskey pouring right out of his pores, could detect that raw, organic redolence that wilded her insides.

In her mind, his drunk apologies quietly whispered. Her body, no matter how much she mentally begged herself to snap out of it, couldn't shrug off the burning sensation that consumed her from the nape of her neck. She could feel the light kisses, the moisture of his lips on her flesh and how his teeth would nibble her with just the right amount of force to cause her to wince in glee. Her cheeks flustered from his tongue swabbing the tears that cascaded down her cheeks due to the fact that she felt as though she was the problem. She was the asshole that couldn't remember what she's supposed to not even forget. Because she couldn't figure out why she was so possessive, so willing, so attached to a man she's only known for a month – but according to him, it's been years.

She has this need that she can't comprehend. The need to watch over him, to take care of every wound on his body, to make sure he's nothing but okay.

Because Jon, nuzzled his cheek against her own, just like the dog in her dreams.

But, regardless of him being under the influence, he was exactly like the stray dog.

You don't fuckin' remember me? I'm that fuckin' Stray Dog.

He's actually the dog of her dreams. Jonathan Good... Jon Moxley... Dean Ambrose. The shaggy, auburn dog.

I don't hate you Charlotte...

You always found me. You found me once and here you are, again. Once left for dead and now me drunk out of my god damn ass. This is just the solid proof, that you're the reason, that I, the stray dog has found a home. Regardless of all the lakes set on fire, you always swam your way towards me. Even if I reeked of trouble, you never cared. All you is, that you needed me, as much as I needed you. I'm the shit of a dog you always welcomed home...

She can't for the life of her, even at this instance shrug off anything in relation to him. No, it was stuck to her. She knew that even when she managed to hit those two girls back at the bar with such ease, in her mind she could hear Jonathan Good, a little bit younger, but that resonant voice of his remained the same, was the one thing guiding her to the path of victory. But regardless if she heard his voice her mind can't for the life of it stick the image of him. She can't remember that figure, teenage Jon. No, it was just the dog, the god damn fucking dog she's mentally cursing herself for wanting to put down, because she hopes with the dog gone, the image can be replaced with who it actually is. Him.

That stray dog, right now, currently nibbled on her leg for her not to go. For her not to leave.

"Please, Charlie, don't go..."

She almost choked as they now both stood a couple of feed away from her room. Her lips parted, but no sound would come out. She couldn't spit not even a single word. Because she didn't want to say that she couldn't. She didn't want to deny him. She can't deny him. Jon only slipped away from her hold onto him. Withdrew his arms and now stood before her, hands digging themselves into her shoulder blades. It didn't hurt, no, everything else did. She couldn't even stare right into his eyes. She knew that if she did she would succumb to his pleads. As much as she wanted to stay just with him... to keep him close to her... as much as she felt her insides beg, gnaw to go with him, it's not her place. She didn't belong there.

She's with the monster in her room now. She's the soon-to-be wife of the devil himself. Hayden Park.

Charlotte only shrugged his hands right off.

"Fuck Charlie..."

Fuck is right. His voice was barely audible even with the lack of distance between the two. Charlotte only took a hold his hand a gave it a squeeze. His palms, slightly sweaty, roughened from weight lifting, presumably, yet warm to the touch. Her mind wandered, to what it would be like for him to touch her. His hands, in comparison to Hayden's are much rougher, but there is tenderness to them. Thick, yet smooth, like honey almost.

She didn't look into his eyes as she felt his fingers trying to fight and take a hold of her slipping hand. She wanted to yell, to cry out and beg for air and yet she only swallowed the knot in her throat and began to turn the knob.

"Good night Jon..."

"Charlie, w-wait!"

But the door silenced his words. And she found herself leaning against the frame of the door as she stared into her once neatly organized hotel room, now upside down. Broken glass, disheveled sheets, the overwhelming stench of cognac, her clothes all over the floor. Right in the middle of the mess, was Hayden who was staggering to keep himself on his feet.

Another drunk, this one being her least favorite.

"Charlotte, so nice seeing you again baby..."

She almost threw up, but instead swallowed the rancid content down her throat. His voice, his words alone triggers the utmost forms of nausea. But the look in his eyes right now. Oh, that's the look she dreads above all eyes.

His words slurred like childish cursive. He was approaching her, little by little, like a great white. Charlotte could only sigh as she would close her eyes and braced herself for the impact that is to come. Hayden Park has become predictable and it's gotten to the point she feels almost desensitized to his madness. Yes, it hurts, but, no, it doesn't hurt.

The only thing, right now allowing Charlotte to disconnect herself from the actual world she's in was the image of Jonathan Good on the cab ride back to the hotel. Him, resting his head on her lap as her fingers combed through his messy locks. She couldn't help but smile. She couldn't help but want to cry all the more. She wanted to hold him closer if possible, but at that moment, through the city lights dimming the cab with some lighting, she took in all his features. He would nestle himself into her thighs all the more. This temporary moment of bliss allowed her to fly away from the rotten of her reality.

November 18, 2012 – Fall

Indianapolis, Indiana

Bankers Life Fieldhouse

Survivor Series

"This is it you guys,"

Charlotte since September has worked for this alongside the other two men with her, CM Punk and Paul Heyman who undoubtedly placed their trust in her hands to birth the new stable that is to be known as S.H.I.E.L.D. For those two months, six days out of the week were dedicated for what is going to happen today. All three of them, wearing their all black attire, looking like men part of the SWAT team would begin to laugh as they had their arms wrapped around their shoulder.

"This is exactly what we busted our fucking asses out for tonight. Now, let's make sure these two months that we slaved our asses for don't go in vain! Remember your spots, make yourselves look so damn good that nobody will shut the hell up about it. You three, are the future of this company and we are going to make sure that everyone else believes that!"

Energy was running high backstage, for this was her work being put to the test. She invested her all, regardless of the troubles she's had with Hayden, that seemingly enough get worst by passing seconds, or the encounters she's shared with Jon. Charlotte, for their sake, to make sure this debut was perfect made sure that everything was just that. She fought countless of times against creative who urged that they would make their Survivor Series debut wearing shields. Big, fiberglass riot shields with the word SHIELD written up on it. She couldn't even picture them going into the ring with those... things. Hell, even the guys freaked out about it. She remembered Roman Reigns jokingly, to some degree, state how much of a disaster it's going to be. Seth Rollins would only cry about how they've gotten used to going into the ring a certain way. And Dean, well, was just Dean. He said simply no to that. He also was the one to point that if they can't get through the bottom rope, Ryback will then have to be the last one standing - blowing the whole debut.

Earlier today, Vince McMahon himself approached all four of them while they prepared themselves in the ring before the start of the show. His strut exactly like that on television and he would only give Charlotte a reassuring squeeze. The boys, for some reason didn't want to open their mouths about it - after all they didn't want to ruin the chances of them debuting on national television. Charlotte however, let them know about the issue regarding the attire and he himself scoffed.

"What are you guys, wussies? You need that?"

"Hell no." All three said at the same time. The cadence of their voice even on the same wavelength.

Vince only chuckled as he looked at Charlotte whom only nodded her head agreement. "If you want a clean debut, it's going to be better off without those ridiculous shields. Everyone will know who The Shield is, without having to be so in your face about it."

For a second, Vince appeared upset - but instead he laughed before turning his back on the boys and Charlotte with his last words being,

"Alright, good, leave 'em."

"This is a silence debut, be yourselves, and kick their asses! Make this as clean as possible and tonight I'll cook you guys some dinner! What do you say eh?!"

"Wait, hold up, so if we nail this, you're going to bless us with your cooking?" Roman Reigns would pump his chest and rub his stomach at the same time.

"This is exactly what I've been waiting for! I'm here for this man!" Seth followed suit and Jon simply remained silent. He instead looked at her right in the eyes and she found herself tapping the pen onto her pad. She pried her visage away from the boys, specifically Jon and would only stare at the screen, paying close attention to the match between Punk, Ryback and Cena. She had to make sure to send them rushing right on time.

Jon cleared his throat as he then cracked his knuckles. "I'll give you that much Princess, you sure as hell know how to make a plate of food. Make the steak medium rare, I'll guarantee you that this debut will leave you proud."

Ryback enters the ring and the crowd chants for him. Ryback hits his clothesline on Punk and goes for Shell Shocked again. Ryback nails it and covers Punk but Cena breaks the pin.

Charlotte swiftly pried her visage away from the screen onto a Jon who simply nodded his head. He was reassuring her. Jon knew Charlotte, she tapped that pen, she bit her lip, she played with her hair because she was nervous. He knows much time and how much work she put into this, to make sure that they were prepared, and he knew it himself, and could feel it amongst his partners that they are as well. They wanted to do her proud, and it was something discussed before Charlotte even got to the arena.

For Momma Shield did everything she could to make sure their voices were heard. She catered to their needs and traveled with them anywhere they had to go. She was not only their manager, their voice when they had none, she was the tip of the trio.

"Alright guys! Go! Go! Go!"

Seth, Roman quickly ran past the curtains and Jon before pushing past them would only give Charlotte a wink before she quickly stared up at the screen. The three badass guys in all black, putting Ryback with ease through a table, menacing, nothing like it before. Charlotte could only keep her eyes fixated on her boys.

"I guess I'm fucked, dinner it is."

She knew she didn't have to give them any motivational speech, they were beyond ready. And mentally, so was she. She was ready to spoil them, give them a slight cheat date to eat, and even casually enjoy a glass of wine.

"I heard you were showered with praises after the show Charlotte! Look at that, we put in the work at the ring and our boss wants to get all the credit eh?" Seth teased as he took the last bite of his sea bass before taking the glass of wine to flush down the remains from his mouth.

All three of them were now inhaling the remains of the delicious aroma from the food they had at a rather popular steakhouse in downtown Indianapolis called Prime 47. The service, the building and the ambiance of the place was superb. The valet was quick and above all else courteous. Thankfully, seeing as it was all four of them first time at such a place, they would ask for recommendations and the dishes were excellent. By this time, a bottle of wine in and a belly full of grub, Charlotte, Seth, Roman and Dean laughed and would playfully nudge one another like children whom just received exciting news.

Although, it was promised that she would cook them a home-made meal, Charlotte was far from home so she promised she would take them out for dinner tonight, and whenever they end up in New York City again, she will cook them a meal. The success of their debut was evident enough as the internet blogs and smarks cannot stop raving about the NXT talent (if known who they are) finally debuted on the main roster and those who don't know who the three men were want answers.

Plot thickening has finally ensued within the show thanks to Seth, Dean and Roman putting down Ryback and making sure CM Punk got the win. Charlotte would only raise her glass of a rather strong red wine and the guys would raise their own.

"Ignoring whatever the hell Colby just said, I just wish to congratulate you guys, because without you all, this is something that wouldn't have been made possible. It's always been my dream, from what I can remember for these nine years now to work for a company like the WWE. I'm pretty sure when I was young I must've loved the shit out of professional wrestling. And today, you guys made me so proud. You left everyone in the arena, at home, and even backstage in awe as to how well you guys handled it."

Jon would only chuckle. He remembered about a week ago looking at old videos from the times when he was Jon Moxley, or when he freshly debuted in what is now known as NXT – and he could spot Charlotte, right there, front row. Attentive as always to whatever was going on. She was around a lot of the time for his big independent matches. She didn't remember him, and somehow someway she without any memory of him found herself to him.

And he would bite his lip for all this time he probably could've made her remember. Hell, try again if he had to. But then again, he wasn't the same kid at the time. Once he lost her, and he knew she was gone, he lost himself. But Jon, just watched Seth, Roman and Charlotte laugh like children and drag attention to themselves at the rather sophisticated, sure as hell pricey steakhouse. Charlotte insisted on treating them to something actually nice.

And it was.

Nothing like her plate of food.

But it was nice.

Jon stared down at the last piece of his sirloin and pushed the fork into it. Blood colored his meat, proving its freshness as he would take the bite with much swiftness. He blocked all sounds, he blocked anything else from disturbing this instance right now. The sound of her laughter, the redness of her cheeks and the beam of her pearly whites. Charlotte, would catch his gaze, as she would place the rim of her glass against her lips and she would only nod her head. Her lips grazing into a soft smile.

There she was.

There's the girl he knows.

For that one second and nothing could wash that out of his mind. She felt something poke at his feet and once he glanced underneath the table he saw her foot. Maybe it was the wine that had her feeling overly affectionate, but at this moment he didn't care. He took it. He needed it. He was hungry.

He misses her.

It hurts. I think it needs stitching.

I missed your food, the free clothes, being pampered and your constant nagging. But also you taking care of me.

Mainly I couldn't stand the idea of you hurting or me writhing in pain when I'm away from you.

These words pour themselves into the mind of Charlotte whom shockingly enough holds her drink a bit better than her companions. Seth and Roman already were dropped off in their rooms and this time, Charlotte walked with a sober Jonathan Good whom insisted on taking her to her room. Charlotte only hiccuped as she would take the card key right out of her rear pocket, and Jon, who was directly behind her would find himself now staring at the curves of her bottom.

She was shockingly curvaceous, though lithe. Her body if anything much better with age. Charlotte turn around as they arrived in front of her door. Jon on the other hand sighed as he would raise his hand to wave adieu however she took a hold of it.

"No, not yet. Come inside." And that knocked him right out of his boots. He was confused – she could tell by how deep his blues got and she didn't know exactly how to explain to him what she was about to do. As soon as Jon would step inside and close the door behind him and he tossed his jacket aside, Charlotte would stand before him. Her hands placed on his chest and it felt as though it was going to burn right through him.

"What the hell are you doing Charlie...?" He almost stuttered but by nick of time he caught his words carefully. Charlotte, this time, unlike the times at the steakhouse, didn't look at him in the eye. Whenever they were alone, she never caught him right by the eye. Instead, her eyes trailed from his chest, to his arms, down to his hands and back up to his neck.

It was suffocating him.

And her breathing was far from being light. Charlotte wouldn't answer his question and her silence drove him all the more mad. But her touch set the beast inside at ease as when he least expected it, she began to undo the buttons of his shirt. One by one and before he could pull away, she would hold him by the hem and pull him only closer. His bare chest right before her eyes and her assumptions were true, a scar right across his chest. It looked deep and her fingertips would only trace it. Jon's lips trembled, as he found himself uncertain about what was happening, yet he couldn't help but to tuck that blond strand of hair right behind her ear again.

Charlotte, in that instance, saw it all. The voices cleared themselves up.

"I knitted... No. I stitched you myself... This, this scar opened itself up countless of times... because you would always go out and find trouble even when I took care of it the first time..."

His eyes widened. Was she remembering him? Was she remembering them, back home, in their Cincinnati?

"Charlie..."

"Jon, please, don't talk..." And quietly he silenced himself as he found himself melting like wax and her honey coated lips touching the scar, trailing it all over.

That wound although it no longer remains, opened once again.

When you snap your finger, or wink you eye,
I come a-running to you
I'm tied to your apron strings,
And there's nothing that I can do
I can't help myself,
No, I can't help myself...

-The Temptations, Sugar Pie Honey Bunch.