A/N:Yooooooo, I'm back again. ELLO I'm really happy with the positive reception this fic has been getting. I extend my thanks to those who have reviewed the first two chapters and/or followed. That being said, on with Chapter 3. There's more Kaitlyn in this one.

OH, and HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!

Kaitlyn collapsed onto a bench, legs flailing forward as she sat down. She didn't know how she was supposed to be feeling at the moment. She was confused and honestly didn't know how to respond to AJ's current antics. But then again, she wasn't really surprised. Her former friend had been champion for all or one day and she already thought she was the best thing to grace the company with her presence. It would have been disappointing, but after months on dealing with her, Kaitlyn grew to expect certain things. But last week, last week Monday was the day she was thrown for a loop. After weeks of thinking that someone was actually interested in her, she was embarrassed in front of the entire world. AJ had planned the whole thing. She of course, had gotten her revenge, she beat the crap out of her, but Big E. saved her before she could destroy her. When she got backstage she couldn't stand the stares. She couldn't stand the pity in people's eyes. It was unbearable. She was touched that people cared –or maybe they all just hated AJ – but it was incredibly annoying. She just wanted people to ignore her. Maybe that was the problem, she was living in the shell of who she used to be. The old her was dorky, outgoing, and independent. Now, here she was, trying to disappear, only showing up to work because she was obligated to. The only place she was comfortable was in the shadows of an arena hallway, alone.

She leant forward – forearms rested on her knees – and sighed. She was left in shambles, while AJ – once her best friend – sopped up the spotlight. The spotlight she worked so hard for. It was funny to her actually. She was sulking, while AJ was going on with her life, living the dream. "This is ridiculous." Kaitlyn muttered and rubbed her temples before pushing herself up from where she was sitting. She brushed her two-colored locks to the left side of her neck and headed down the hallway. She had no idea where she was going, but she didn't really care. She stared at her feet as she walked, she felt like her feet were sinking deep into the concrete. Her body felt heavy, she was sore, and she was sure that she felt like crap. She was pretty sure she looked like it too. Her makeup was runny and the mascara was smeared under her eyes – she had given up trying to keep it from running – and it was starting to dry. As she lifted her hand to her eyes, she ran into something. Something hard, "Jesus!"

"Oh shit, my bad."

She reached up and took the hand of the person she could quite pin onto a person, "It's okay-" her voice caught in her throat, and her brain lost the ability to form a sentence. "H-hi R-r"

"Roman." He smiled slightly. It was just a quirk of the corner of his lips, be she was positive it was a smile.

"W-what are you doing here?" She wanted to smack herself for stuttering. He was just so intimidating, and she was slightly terrified. Sure they had never attacked a diva – they never had a reason to – but now that Paige was involved, that could change.

"I could ask you the same thing." He spoke just above a whisper, he didn't trust his voice enough to speak normally.

She looked over him, and if she had to tell anyone, she would say it was a force of habit. He was wearing a black muscle-t and jeans, the usual. And even she had to admit, he looked good – even if it were just a shirt and jeans – but she wouldn't admit it out loud. "I- I- was just… I was just sitting-" She turned her body away from him and pointed to the bench. The more she spoke, the more she got frustrated, but she was happy that he hadn't brought up the fact that her eyes were puffy and she had been crying, "I- I was just-"

"You were what?" He crossed his arms over his chest and leant against the wall.

She looked at him and squinted her eyes, "Are you making fun of me?"

He put his hands up in surrender, "No. I wouldn't dare." He lent closer to her so that she had to crane her neck to see his face, "I just think it's cute that you're nervous." She stared at him, heart stopping, and eyes widening against her will. "You have a makeup-" He trailed off while he lifted his hand to her face and thumbed the mascara away from the corner of her eye. She closed her eyes and let it happen. A chill ran down her spine as his calloused finger moved across the soft skin of her face. It was comforting. And after the day she had, it was just what she needed. Comfort. She just never expected it to come from him. Roman Reigns was supposed to be the scary destroyer –he was definitely a trash talker – guys like him, they didn't bother with women like her. He was a Shield member. He wasn't supposed to care. But there they were.

"Reigns! What are you-"

"Shit," he muttered. Kaitlyn's eyes shot open to find him staring at her. His expression was unreadable, but she couldn't help but frown when his hand dropped from her face and he stuck both his hands in his pocket, "What do you want Rollins?"

Kaitlyn felt a blush creep into her cheeks and she ducked her head, hiding her face, "I'm gonna go." She quickly walked past Roman, and glanced up to see Seth with a knowing smirk on his face.

"Sooo. What was that?" Seth crossed his arms and lifted his leg off the ground and bent his knee, before leaning onto the wall.

Roman cleared his throat and passed his hand over his drying hair out of his face, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Seth smirked and followed behind him don't the hall, "uh-huh."

Paige sighed and closed her laptop and stretched her pale arms above her head. She had just finished talking to her family because she hadn't seen them in a few months since the last time she visited them, and she missed them. Family had always been important to her and she always credited them for getting her where she was. To her, if it had not been for her parents being wrestlers themselves, she wouldn't have gotten into wrestling.

She stifled a yawn as she got up from the floor and grabbed her laptop from the table. Walking into the bedroom, she flipped the light switch and put her laptop into her suitcase. She quickly grabbed her phone from the charger and checked her messages. They were from random people congratulating her on an impressive debut. She was thankful for the opportunity, but if she could have done it any other way, she would have. Saving Dean wasn't exactly on her list of things to do. But she also didn't want to see him flattened by Kane either.

Even if she didn't want to admit it, she didn't want to see that happen.

After getting backstage, they didn't even speak. It was awkward and she didn't want to have that conversation. She knew that it wouldn't have been pretty – they would have ended up arguing – and quite frankly, she didn't want to hear what he had to say. It had been too long and she didn't have the strength or will power to do that. She wanted to yell and scream and tell him about how horrible of a person he was, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. So she kept to herself. She had originally planned to get everything off her chest, but after his match, when he still hadn't acknowledged her, she made her choice to let it go.

The ride back to the hotel was silent, and tense. Which had only made it worse. Dean stared out the window, Seth was texting whoever he texted, and Roman had a far off look in his eyes the entire time. She wanted to ask him about it, but refrained. She figured it had something to do with why he had been gone and the slight blush that was on his face when he and Seth had met her and Dean in the parking lot. That was the last time she had seen any of them, she couldn't have gotten away from them fast enough. But not before they all made plans to go to the gym tomorrow morning.

She skipped through random channels, yawn escaping her lips as she fought the urge to sleep. She knew that if she fell asleep, she'd only get a couple of restless hours and wake up at about 3 am. After a sleeping next to someone for so long and then losing that someone, she hadn't been able to sleep in a long time. But she was so tired. She turned off the TV and closed her eyes and took a relaxing breath. As she sunk into comfort of the queen sized bed, there was a knock on the door. "You've got to be bloody kidding me." She laid still a few more moments, wondering if she should just let them stand outside of her door. But the knocking persisted and she was forced to get up and walk out into the small living room, "I'm comin'! I'm coming'!"

Her socked feet trudged along the dingy carpet of her hotel room and she walked to the door looking through the peephole, "What do you want, Dean?"

"Are you gonna open the door?" His voice dragged on – a unique quality in his voice that she had always liked – making him sound drunk. At the hour that he had actually showed up, she wouldn't be shocked to find out that he was drunk.

"No." Paige smirked and Dean was positive that he could hear the smugness in her voice.

"I'm not going away." Dean knocked the door, "I'll knock this damn door down."

Paige stepped away from the door and sat the small table in the kitchen. She wasn't gonna just let him in. Why did he want to talk now? She was willing earlier, they had time earlier. But no, he wanted to wait until a quarter to 1 in the morning. She would leave him out there, but his incessant knocking and kicking on the door would drive her absolutely mad. Sighing – and against her better judgment – she walked back over to the door and unlocked it, "What?!"

Dean stood before her with his arms outstretched in front of him, gripping the door frame, "Were you in bed?"

"Of course I was, you muppet." She quipped, "Now if we're done with the pleasantries, what are you doin' at my door?"

"Asking you to let me in."