iAm A Fighter

The next week had flown by. Wendy was nauseous, and, for the first time in weeks, her pregnancy wasn't to blame. Shelby was back in the ring tonight for the first time in nearly a year, putting her world championship on the line.

This wasn't the issue. This was never the issue. Wendy loved Shelby deeply and fighting was what she did, but she felt that a tiny part of her died each and every time that her partner stepped into the ring, World Heavyweight Champion or not.

"Shelby, please!" Wendy begged, as she always did.

"You know I can't, Baby…"

"But we're going to have a child, Shelby… What would I do if… if… if…" Wendy choked back melodramatic sobs. She always thought the worst before Shelby entered the ring.

Shelby wanted to be tough and masculine and ice cold to the core, as she had trained herself to be, but this was Wendy. This was the girl she had met completely by happenstance – the girl who had stolen her heart, mind, body, and soul.

"Nothing's going to happen to me, Tinkerbell…" Shelby used her pet name for her girlfriend in an attempt to lighten the mood. It made Wendy smile, but it was clear that she was still upset. Shelby continued on. She knew to get it out of the way. They did this each and every time that Shelby was contractually obligated to lace up her gloves.

"Besides, my love… Three more after tonight, then I take that broadcasting job, like we talked about, I promise…"

Wendy was touched and broken all at the same time. She spoke in a deflated voice, sobbing into her partner's shoulder.

"You promise?"

Shelby's warm caramel eyes locked on her partner's.

"Yes, of course I promise… We have a family to think about… and besides that, believe me, I'm in good hands. You won't need to worry about a thing."

Shelby dropped to one knee, just as she had the night that she had asked Wendy to be hers. She planted a gentle, yet firm kiss on her navel.

"Be a good girl… Mama's gotta go to work… Be good for Mommy. I love you…"

At first she thought that she'd imagined it, but the look on Wendy's face told her otherwise. Shelby had just felt her daughter kick. In her own mind, she thought of it in terms of her own training. In Shelby's mind, Megan had just given Mama a knuckle bump.

Shelby kissed Wendy gently and quietly left their apartment. Wendy had company coming over and Shelby knew what she needed to do.

Wendy, though resigned to her fate tonight, spoke gently to the one she loved.

"Be strong, Shels…"

The prizefighter brushed a strand of auburn hair from her partner's face, wiping away a tear.

"Always am, Wendy Darling… Don't worry. My back is got…"

Shelby kissed Wendy gently on the cheek, as she did every night before drifting off to sleep. She zipped up her jacket and walked out the door. Before crossing the threshold into the hallway, she looked back over her shoulder, shooting Wendy a playful look. This was their routine on fight nights when Wendy couldn't come with her.

"Don't wait up…"

It was a little white lie between the two of them. Shelby knew that Wendy absolutely would.

KEYARENA, FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER…

There was a knock on the dressing room door. Shelby Marx was a million miles away. The sound broke her concentration, disrupting her silent prayer. Her hands were wrapped. She was ready to go. She was simply spending her private time alone with her thoughts. She stared at the photo of Wendy taped to her dressing room mirror, taken on their first date. A familiar voice caught her attention.

"Ten minutes, Champ…"

"Thanks… I really appreciate you doing this for me."

"Of course… I…"

Shelby interrupted her corner man.

"Here…"

Shelby passed a handful of personal items, including her ring, her rainbow freedom ring necklace, and Wendy's picture, over. Her entourage and training staff – her professional inner circle – were the only ones who knew the details of Shelby's private life. She was a champion – the best in the world at what she did – but Shelby Marx was human, nonetheless. If you cut her, she would bleed just the same.

Content that she had made peace and was now ready to walk in the light, Shelby Marx quietly crossed herself in front of the mirror, pulled the hood of her robe over her head, and stood up.

"Okay, let's go…"

TWENTY MINUTES LATER…

"…and the winner by knockout, at forty-eight seconds of round number one… still heavyweight champion… Shelby Marx!"

The house lights came up. Shutter clicked and strobes flashed. The locked door to the octagonal cage swung open. The champion's entourage rushed in, immediately basking in the warm glow of another victory. Her opponent, formerly the international women's champion, had come all the way across the pond from Wales to be thoroughly embarrassed. Shelby Marx wore her championship belt around her waist, her newly-won title belt slung across her shoulder. She was all smiles. Her new cornerman took her hand and raised it in triumph for the cameras, a small chain with rings, all the colors of the rainbow protruding from the pocket of the corner jacket. The pay-per-view cameras caught it, but the only eyes that truly saw were half a city away.

Shelby was preening for the cameras. This was all choreographed. It fed the public image of Shelby Marx as the self-absorbed world champion, although nothing could have been further from the truth. It all had a meaning. Shelby kissed both of her fists, showing off for the cameras. She flashed the cameras, holding three fingers across her chest, where her heart beat steadily in her chest. To the masses, this meant nothing. To those who knew better, however, it wasn't simply Shelby counting down the three remaining fights of her professional career. This was W. W for Wendy.

Shelby rested her head gently against her cornerman's shoulder. In the safety and privacy of the tunnel heading to her dressing room, Shelby spoke.

"Thanks for keeping my things safe…"

Sam Puckett turned to face her friend.

"I told you… Your back is got…"

Shelby no longer cared. Her career in the ring was nearly over. She slipped her necklace back on. She felt like a complete human being again. She knew Wendy would be waiting, no doubt along with a houseful of friends. It was time to go home.