I claim no ownership to any characters in this. They are the WWE's, Vince McMahons, and their own selves. This is the continuation of "Goodbye for Now", done by request. Hope you enjoy it. =)

Leaving the WWE that night was the hardest thing I've ever done. Matt was so... sad, I guess. I mean, he didn't want me to go. But he wasn't mad. So, sad's the best word I can think of for it. But I walked away, to Stephanie's fighting and Shane's attempts to stop me. Threats of no job on return. The whole nine yards. But I had to do it. They couldn't see that.

Actually, Matt did see that. I think that's why he wasn't mad. He understood I needed to get away. He just felt like it was him I had to get away from. And maybe it was. I still don't know for sure.

I got a call from Vince later that night. Which was a surprise. I was driving down the highway, and jumped like hell when the phone went off. Laughing at myself, I answered to his voice. My job was guaranteed when I came back. Apparently, I really was good. Even if I never got a good match.

The drive went pretty quiet from there. It was weird, having mine and Matt's favorite songs playing without him in the car with me. I started to regret leaving about halfway home. But I had to go. I couldn't let myself die there. Matt wouldn't let me die there. So, regardless of the gnawing feeling in my stomach, I went back to Cameron, and found myself on Jeff's doorstep instead of my own.

*****

I love having friends. They make the hardest things easier. When Jeff opened the door, he eyed me for a moment, then let me in. As soon as I put my bag down, he wrapped me in a hug. I hadn't realized I needed one. But he did. I buried my face in his chest, being quite a bit shorter than him, and just held onto him for a moment before I let go, blush heavy on my face. "Sorry."

He laughed. "Don't be. You needed it." He gestured toward his room, and I went in, sitting on his bed. He smiled down at me and popped a c.d. into the radio, a mix of a bunch of stuff that all of us liked. Then he sat next to me. "So. Why'd you do it?"

I sighed, looking at my hands. "I couldn't be there. I was dying inside under him. I have to be on my own for a while. I shoulda known it was too soon to try that again."

He nodded, putting an arm over my shoulders. "You couldn'ta known that, Shanny. How long since your last one?"

I looked at my taped forearms for a moment. "Three days."

He sighed, wrapping the other arm around me. Jeff was always good at comforting people. "You have anything with you?"

I glanced back at him, but nodded. I gestured toward my bag, and he reached into it, pulling out a small plastic bag. It had my current razor and a new one in it. I thought he would throw it out. But instead, he dropped it into a bedside bureau drawer. "Why not just get rid of it?"

Leaning back on his headboard, he answered. "Simple. Get rid of it, you'll just get another. Have the reminder always there, in the back of your mind, it helps you stop. It was like the painkillers for me."

I nodded, looking at my hands again. "It's gonna be hard, isn't it?"

Jeff nodded. "Yeah. It is. But you'll get through it. Trust me. If I could, you can. You always were stronger than me."

I snorted. "Yeah, I was stronger, and yet I was always under your brother's shadow, and never able to prove myself, even against him."

The multi-colored man smiled. "Please. You coulda beat Matty a million times. I saw it in your face. You stop right before you beat him, because you think he's letting you win. The company makes you think that."

I raised an eyebrow, but then leaned back, laying next to him. It was comfortable, being close to someone again.

He rested his arm under my back, and we stopped talking, listening to the music. After a while, he took my arm like Matt had the other night. He took the wristbands off of it. But, instead of tracing my scars and wounds, he traced over the outline of my tattoo. Leave it to Jeff to still see the art in a destroyed masterpiece. Where his brother saw only the damage, he saw the whole picture, and how the damage adds to the beauty. Or something like that.

With the music quiet like it was, and the light pressure on my arm, I fell asleep there next to him. And this time, it was comfortable. No nightmares this time.

*****

I woke up early the next day to find Jeff asleep on the couch. Guiltily, I picked him up as carefully as I could and put him back on his bed. It wasn't my place to steal that. I went into the kitchen, made a pot of coffee, and sat at the table with a mug. My phone on the table next to me, it was like being back to normal again. When Jeff came out of his room, smiling sleepily, I laughed and poured him a cup as well. Nothing like coffee to kick off the first day of an indefinite vacation.

*****

The rest of the next couple weeks was pretty similar to that night. Instead of going to stay at my house, where I'd be alone and left to my own thoughts, I stayed with Jeff. The first couple weeks weren't too bad. I started getting shaky. It was exactly three weeks from my last cut that I started getting sick.

Thing is, when you get used to having something happen to your body, and then you suddenly stop doing it, you withdraw. Just like a drug, cutting causes withdrawal. It starts with shakes. Then you get sick. Then you start to hurt because you're not hurting. After that, it gets better, and like any other drug, you find yourself mostly free from it. The temptation's always there, but it's not prominent. Not unless you go back to the state of mind you were in when you were on the drug.

Anyway, back to the story. Three weeks after I left, I'd been shaking like mad. I was sweaty. I had a fever. Withdrawal was a damned thing. I remember Jeff describing it to me, telling me I'd go through it even though it wasn't a drug. But it was still a damned thing.

That morning, I sat at the kitchen table until Jeff got up. He made coffee. I was too dizzy at the moment. He set a cup in front of me. I took a sip, and instantly regretted it. Diving for the bathroom, I leaned over the toilet, and was not pleased to feel my dinner from last night making its way back out. My hair was everywhere, but I couldn't grab it. A second after I realized this, I felt it being pulled back from my face. Now I could concentrate on getting sick.

When the nausea wave passed, I sat on the tile floor next to Jeff and shook my head. He chuckled a bit, but stood me up and helped me balance while I cleaned my face and washed out my mouth. Once stable, I glared at him in the mirror. "So not funny."

He shook his head. "Not laughing at the situation, dimwad. Laughing at how strange it was to see you sit back on the floor with this face that just screamed, 'laugh and you die'."

I eyed him for a moment, then laughed a bit myself. "That may or may not have run through my head at that moment." Sighing, I rested my forehead on the counter near the sink, stepping to the side so Jeff wouldn't have to move. "This sucks man."

He nodded. "I know. Withdrawal from anything will do that to you. But hey, at least you're not alone."

I turned my head to look up at him and gave him a smile. He was right. It was nice to have a friend to hold my hair back while I got sick.

*****

Once I stopped getting sick, which took a couple more weeks, I got a call from Matt. He'd apparently called when I wasn't able to talk, as I'd taken permanent residence in the bathroom for almost the whole two weeks. I called him back, and was pleased to find out that he was coming home to see us at the end of the week.

I was a little anxious. Wouldn't you be, if you left your dream job because you couldn't live in your best friend's shadow? But when he got there, and pulled me into a hug despite the gross, sweaty mess I must have looked like, I knew it was all okay.

The afternoon he came back, the three of us sat around the table. Jeff and him had coffee. I stuck to water. Stomach was still uncertain as to how much it would take.

He eyed me for a minute. "So. How's... that coming?" he asked, gesturing to my arm. I turned it over, showing the healed marks from over a month ago. He smiled, a relieved one. "Good. I'm glad you're stopping."

I laughed a bit, looking at my hands. "Me too, Matt. Me too. But it sucks a bit too. I kind of prefer the taste of food when it's going down, not coming up."

Jeff laughed pretty hard at that, but we'd learned to joke about it. Matt just looked a bit guilty. Seeing the look in his brother's eyes, Jeff stood. "Hey, guys, you should... talk about all this. I'm gonna go in my room for a while. Just... ah... come get me when you're all set."

I nodded at him, and he started for his room. He stopped for a second to put a hand on my shoulder in a way that said, "Just tell him," before continuing and closing the door behind him.

Matt looked at me across the table with a sigh. "So. You never answered me before you left."

I lowered my gaze to my hands again. I knew what he was talking about. "I know. And I need to do that now."

"So, why'd you do it, Shan?" He looked a bit hurt when I glanced up at him.

My gaze dropped again immediately. "Well... here's the thing. I..." I sighed, mentally preparing myself. "When I started under you, with the whole Mattitude thing, I was happy. But then I wanted to be my own person. And the company said, nope! You're not as strong as Matt! You'll be his bitch!" He opened his mouth to say something, but I held a hand up to stop him. "That was why I started. I wasn't myself. I was the mini-Matt, and worse than that, I was beat up for it even worse. Once I started, it just kind of... consumed me, I guess. From there... I was let go the first time, and went to TNA, where the Reject came into play. But no one there knew me. So I had no reason to stop. When I came back here, they swore I would be my own person, no ties to Mattitude again. I stopped for a little while. And then I was losing to guys who I knew I could beat, because they didn't want to lose. And then it was like going back to Mattitude again. I wasn't me, I was the mini-Matt, and everyone saw you as the leader, even though I picked up most of the wins. So I went back to it even heavier. And when I talked to Jeff last time we came home, I realized that the only way to stop was to get away from the whole industry for a while, find myself, and return after I knew who I was."

Matt stared at me for a moment, then looked down. "I never knew... But Jeff did, huh?"

I nodded. It went without saying.

He looked back at me, guilt in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Shan, I didn't know! I just... I couldn't... I..."

Again, I held up a hand to stop him. "It wasn't you, Matt. It was the company. I was the mini-Matt because they told me to be. Not because you told me to."

He nodded. "So... you're not mad at me?"

I shook my head, chuckling. "Nah. I couldn't be mad at you."

He smiled. "Good. 'Cause if you were, I'd have to kick your ass."

I laughed a little louder. "You say so, but you can't back it up, pretty boy."

*****

It took another few months to fully withdraw. Matt went back to the WWE soon after our conversation, and told the boss some of the story, but not all of it. Obviously. So my job was definitely guaranteed, and also guaranteed no more Matt storylines. Unless I was beating him.

In the time between my worst withdrawal period and complete ending, I went back to the tattoo parlor and did some for people. This girl named Kae came in, got one on her shoulder. Said "June" on it. I swear, she had scars like mine. But I didn't ask. Just put a hand on her shoulder before we started, said, "Don't let it take over. The withdrawal's a bitch." She laughed, smiled in a knowing way, and looked back down.

At the very end of the withdrawal, Jeff pulled out my old bag from his bureau. I hadn't even realized he'd kept it all that time. I looked at the razors for a minute, then took the bag. I walked over to the trash and dumped them in. He smiled, walked up, and wrapped me in a hug. "You did it, Shanny. You broke it."

*****

When I left the WWE, I had no intention of going back. I was done with it. There was nothing left for me there. But with the problems gone, and my guarantees in place, I called up Vince and took my spot back. While I started off against the smaller guys again, I was finally winning, and on my own. A storyline was built, and before I knew it, I found myself in the ring with Matt again. As his opponent.

I've never had such a historic match, in my mind. When I finally hit the Halo... the crowd's never been louder than it was that night. A three-count never felt so good. I'd finally proved myself. Out in the ring, Matt acted pissed off. But I could see in his face, he was proud. I lifted my arms, which were uncovered at last, and headed backstage.

Once there, when Matt found me, he smiled wide. I laughed. He pulled me into a warm hug with a laugh. "Nice job, Shan. You kicked my ass."

I laughed, hugged him back, then punched him playfully in the ribs. "Told you height don't matter!"

He shook his head, smile still there, and sat on the bench. "Glad to have you back."

I sat next to him. "Glad to be back. See? I told you it was only goodbye for now."

*****

And thus, my story ends. My leaving, withdrawing, and returning to the WWE, in my own words. Trust me when I say, this wasn't easy. But that's life. It took some hard knocks to be me.

Ahah, and there it is. The completion. And, the sentence at the end has his tattoos in it. HARD KNOX is on his knuckles, and 2-B-ME is on his stomach. Thought that would make sense there. Hope you enjoyed! If you like this, please take a look at my other one-shots. Like this one, they'll be made longer on request only. Thanks all! =)