Separate Ways

By Jean-theGuardian


Here we stand

Worlds apart, hearts broken in two, two, two

Sleepless nights

Losing ground, I'm reaching for you, you, you

Feeling that it's gone

Can't change your mind

If we can't go on

To survive the tide, love divides

Someday love will find you

Break those chains that bind you

One night will remind you

How we touched and went our separate ways

If he ever hurts you

True love won't desert you

You know I still love you

Though we touched and went our separate ways

– "Separate Ways", By Journey


Survivor Series, War Games

AllState Arena - Chicago, Illinois

11/25/2023, 10:25 p.m.


Crazy. This is crazy.

That was the one thought that kept running through the mind of Phillip Jack Brooks as he stood hidden in a sealed-off area near the gorilla position where he had been hiding out at for the last four hours. It felt like he had been waiting forever.

But then again, he mused, looking around the familiar sights around him—the dark tarp curtain, the familiar sounds and frantic instructions being given in the production hub, the audible chatter and laughter from the WWE Superstars in the back, the familiar electricity in the air of a hot Pay Per View event with a hot crowd waiting behind the curtain in front of him—the irony had not been lost on him…

…the real wait had felt even longer than that.

For the man that the world had come to know famously, and sometimes infamously, as C.M. Punk, he had never been a very patient man. Yet it felt like most of his life had been a waiting game.

Waiting to find a place he could call home. Bitter memories of growing up in a dysfunctional family on the streets of Chicago, Illinois flashed in his mind…

Waiting to make a crazy dream come true. Memories of every dive, every gym, every VFW hall wrestling in front of 10,20 people for a hotdog and a handshake, meeting friends, making enemies, making friends that would become enemies, flashed before his eyes.

Waiting to be given a chance. All the times scummy wrestling promoters laughed at him, declined to book him. Telling him he was too unathletic, too unconventional, that they didn;t like his look, his tattoos, better yet, his attitude…

Waiting to make it to the big time. Finally breaking through in the independents, becoming an urban legend in Ring of Honor, wrestling all over the world in whatever places would have him, slowly building his name, building a myth around him as the best damn wrestler on the underground scene, remembering all the times people doubted him and using it as his fire to fuel his drive to prove those fuckers wrong, to prove that he could belong in the same ring as the heroes Rowdy Roddy Piper, Stone Cold Steve Austin, Bret "the Hitman" Hart and Eddie Guerrero…

Waiting to be taken seriously. Finally making it to the WWE, the same company his heroes became famous in. Grinding in OVW and the new ECW, constantly running into old and out of touch fossils who dismissed him with one look. Telling him that he was not good enough, didn't have the right look, that he would never be a champion, never make it to TV, that he would probably be released. Using that as his rage to drive him to prove them wrong again, fight against the system, push back against the glass ceiling that held him down and punch it and punch it until his knuckles cracked and bled, until the glass started to give just a little more with every win, with every championship, every stunning masterpiece promo, every performance that got the crowds wowed and the people at home buzzing and the backstage people talking about him….

Waiting to find love, he mused as he looked at the precious gold wedding band on his right finger. All the broken hearts, the missed opportunities at love. Thoughts of old flames and dead fires of the heart flickered in his mind. Maria, Daffney, Beth, Lita…so many incredible women, so many chances for love and happiness that fell apart at his feet for one reason or another, sacrifices to his dream that mattered more than anything else in his life…before her. Before April. His wife. His great love. His AJ.

Waiting to make his dreams come true. Finally getting tired of the politics, getting frustrated with the machine and the injuries, deciding he wanted to leave…and then…The Pipebomb. The six-minute masterclass speech that forever changed his life, forever changed the trajectory of his career. The buzz around him that grew into a wildfire. The match with Cena at Money In the Bank in this very building. Finally winning the WWE Championship that he had been chasing since he was a boy. Losing it, stumbling close to the edge of irrelevancy, then winning it back and cementing his name in history with his record reign, hearing the crowds roar and cheer and chant his name in love and adulation, finding his lady love AJ in the process, becoming the star he knew he could be, the summit of the mountain in his sights for his ultimate dream: to main event WrestleMania…

Waiting to find his footing. Losing the title. Betrayal by his mentor Paul Heyman. His injuries mounting yet again. The frustration of having to climb back up the mountain despite a senile Vince McMahon and his lackeys trying to push him back down the cliffs. Denying him his dream to main event the Showcase of the Immortals again and again and again. Pushing friends away in frustration. Pushing almost everything away in frustration. Watching in anger as the company even tried to deny his friend Daniel Bryan the main event of Wrestlemania that he had deserved, all to push their antiquated agendas for one stubborn and senile old man. Working sick and hurt from staph infection that was slowly killing him without him knowing. Finally deciding on a cold Jan. 27, 2014 that he was done fighting this war. Telling Vince and Hunter to their faces that he was tired of their games and was going home.

Waiting to heal. The termination papers Vince sent him firing him on his wedding day to the woman of his dreams. Watching Stephanie McMahon smugly run his name through the mud in his hometown while he sat at home watching. The anger and fury that he turned into a flurry of lawsuits and counterlawsuits that had him in and out of courtrooms for years. The podcast that cost him his friendship with his once-best friend Colt Cabana. Hating wrestling and pushing it away from him, cutting it and everyone connected with it out of his life so he wouldn't be reminded of what he lost. Struggling to find who he was without his gift and passion, dabbling in comics and movies and UFC, the latter being something he failed at, his ears ringing with the sneering and mockery by strangers on social media and his old company. Being so angry with everything that it even started to affect his relationship with April at times before she convinced him to talk to a mental health expert…

Waiting to make a difference. Finally being talked into coming out of retirement by a young and naive billionaire's son with a dream and a premise of a new wrestling company that promised him fame, promised him respect, promised to give him his love of wrestling back. Returning and setting the world abuzz with his return, putting All Elite Wrestling on the map, watching the company rise to incredible heights guided by his stardom, his hard work, eagerly working with young talent who idolized him, wanted to learn from his experiences, his scars, his struggles seeming to be worth it as he shared his knowledge with a new generation of future stars, working with legends he had always idolized as heroes like Sting and Jake 'The Snake' Roberts. Finally starting to show the world that he was the star that he knew he could be…

Waiting to catch his breath, scowling as he thought of it. Old ghosts coming back to haunt him, smiles suddenly turning into sneers as young amateurs thinking they were better than they were and former friends with agendas of their own started to turn against him. His name smeared in a whisper campaign that had half of the fans that were throwing his roses months ago now cursing his name, calling him 'cancer', 'fraud', 'diva', 'trouble-maker'. Lashing out and fighting back, publicly, violently, physically. Hearing the whispers against him now murmuring and shouting loudly for him to leave. Reminding him of why he left his passion in the first place. Only this time, planting his feet. Deciding he would not leave. That he had found his passion for his gift again, and that the only way they would get him out is to drag him out. The rebel finding his cause again, letting his star shine brightly, pushing away the negative, surrounding himself with the positive and making history once again…until…

Wembley

Punk closed his eyes as he thought of it. Waiting…for release.


Sept. 1

Chicago, Illinois

Punk's Apartment Home


Punk felt almost numb as he stared into the eyes of his longtime friend, one of his best friends, Bryan Danielson, formerly known to the WWE as Daniel Bryan.

"You're serious?" Punk asked, disbelief in his voice, his green eyes bloodshot and full of anger, indignant.

Bryan's sad blue eyes met his old friend's stare. He hated everything about this moment. Every single thing. After all, he had never thought he would ever have to fire someone before. And never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd have to do it to a friend…a brother.

"Yeah, Punker," he sighed, unhappily. "The committee voted unanimously. Believe me, I hate that this is happening. But given what happened at All Out last year, and with everything with the Bucks, and now this thing at Wembley, the corporate policy is pretty clear. We have no choice but to recommend termination of your contract with AEW, with cause."

Punk turned the words over and over in his head. "Unanimous." He frowned at his old buddy, someone he respected and admired, someone he came up through the system with, who helped him as they both smashed at the glass ceiling that held them down in WWE together. "So you voted against me, too."

Bryan sighed again, rubbing his hand over his tired face in frustration. "Punk…Phil…you didn't give me much of a choice. You punched Jack Perry in the face. At work. In front of Tony."

"And you know why, right?" Punk demanded, folding his arms across his chest indignantly.

Bryan took a deep breath. "Phil…"

"You know why, right?" Punk repeated his question tersely.

"Yes, I know why," Bryan said tiredly, trying to keep the snappishness out of his voice. "But you can't just do that, Punk, there are rules—"

"It's really funny how the rules seem to apply to me and yet a different set of rules goes around to everybody else who thinks it's cool to be unprofessional assholes at work, isn't it, Bry?" Punk snapped. "You know, I didn't ask for any of this. I came here to help this place, I really did! Do you know what it took to get me back in the ring, after everything that happened to me years ago? How hard it was to do that? What I had to put myself through mentally? How much that scared AJ, how worried she was that I was going to turn back into that same asshole I was years ago that hated everything? If I wanted to deal with a bunch of drama, I'd have signed up for more lawsuits. I didn't have to come here, you know, I was just fine hanging out in my place with my gorgeous wife and my dog and doing whatever projects I wanted to do without having a bunch of bullies smear my name on the internet over ancient history! Without having people feel like they can just come after me whenever they want—"

"I get it, Punk, alright?" Bryan said tersely. "But there are rules in place—"

"That's BULLSHIT, Bryan, and you know it!" Punk all but shouted, his nostrils flaring, arms wide as he spread them out like a condor in frustration. "Do you know what they call that place online, Bryan, huh? Do you know?"

Bryan quietly seethed. "Yeah, I know."

"They call it 'All Friends Wrestling', that's what they call it!" Punk spat. "Is that what you want? To have people think of this place as a joke? I'm trying to help that place! I'm trying to make it money, I wanted to see it grow, I'm trying to see it reach its potential, and we're so close, Bryan, we are SO close to doing that, to making something special for the entire industry as a whole, but you and Tony are letting a handful of stupid kids and a couple of has-beens who care about lining their own pockets steer this place into a toilet, and you can't even see it! Don't you care, Bry?"

"Yes, I do care," Bryan said, closing his eyes briefly, his voice louder as he began to lose his patience. He meant that. He really did care. Silently, he agreed. There was a lot about what his friend was saying that made sense. But this wasn't a battle that Bryan could fight. Not Punk's way. Maybe not any way. Maybe 10 years ago, sure. But not now.

"Then why are you letting them fuck this up for everyone?" Punk loudly demanded, unable to understand why this same man who fought with him in the trenches didn't want to fight this battle with him, didn't want to fight for the change that Punk had hoped and fought for for so long.

"BECAUSE I HAVE A FAMILY, ALRIGHT?" Bryan shouted back, his blue eyes scowling as they clashed with Punk's heated green-eyed stare. "And because there are rules! And you broke them! You honestly think I want to be doing this? Phil…this is me we're talking about! Do you know how close Tony was to firing you after the shit you pulled at All Out last year? Who do you think bailed you out? It was me! I had to beg Tony to let things cool off. I had to convince him just how much you helped this company by reminding him of all the money you made us, all the positive attention, the whole vibe you brought, what we started together two years ago! If it wasn't for me, your crazy ass would've been surfing the couch months ago instead of earning those big pay checks you've been collecting since you came back!"

A tense silence fell between them.

It stretched out forever.

At last, Bryan's scowl melted, giving Punk a sad smile. This man was like family to him, but he learned long ago that when Punk got worked up about something, if it was a hill he wanted to die on, he would fight to the last man. And those weren't always battles Bryan could afford to fight with him, as much as he wanted to. "You're my brother, man, I love you to death, always will…but I can't bail you out this time. Tony said he would back whatever decision the committee made. We're handing it to him this afternoon. I just…I didn't you to read about it in the dirt sheets or something. You deserved to hear it from me."

Punk took a moment, closed his eyes and then sank down onto his couch, hands rubbing his face in frustration. And resignation. It was over. Just like that. His run in All Elite Wrestling. His chance to end his career on his terms. His chance to leave a legacy behind. To mentor young wrestlers and give back to the business he loved.

His reputation.

Maybe his career.

Gone…

And yet, his thoughts weren't all on him…it was to his people. His friends who stuck up for him. His family, who supported him. His beloved family. His dog. His wife, AJ. They all believed in him. Supported him. Had faith in him. Defended him.

And he failed them. Again…

That thought alone made Punk feel like he was two inches tall.

"I don't want to…I don't want to be remembered like this," Punk silently confessed, his eyes full of regret.

A sad look in his eyes, Bryan silently sunk down onto the couch next to him. "I know," he responded, just as quietly.

Punk looked at him, sadly. "It's really over, isn't it?"

A corner of Bryan's lip quirked to the right, wryly. "In AEW? Yeah."

Punk sighed as he sank back on the couch, frustrated hand running back over his shaved scalp. "Then it's over for me," Punk said in almost defeat. "That was my last shot. That's how CM Punk is going to be remembered. Punching out someone backstage and sabotaging a PPV. And the damndest thing is that I can't even defend myself. Not with that stupid NDA I had to sign months ago just to come back to work. This is…" Punk could almost feel a lump in his throat form at the thought. "This is how my career ends."

And he hated that thought. He had come so far. Had he only come this far just to come this far? Was this really how it was meant to end, after everything he had done to come back?

Was it really over?

He almost didn't notice a twinkle of an idea in Bryan's eyes.

Punk frowned. "What?"

Bryan studied him with curious eyes. "Phil…level with me. When you were backstage at that WWE event…what were you doing there?"

Punk hadn't expected that question. Thinking it over, he finally answered, "I…I dunno, man. Maybe…maybe I was just trying to get a rise out of Tony and those idiots he hired around him. Remind them of who they're dealing with, get a little leverage, grease the wheels so I could finally get back to work…"

Bryan gave him a knowing look. "That wasn't it."

Punk frowned, slightly annoyed. "Okay, Smart Guy. Then what was it?"

Bryan smirked a little, knowing that Punk wasn't going to like hearing this. But knowing he needed to hear it. "You wanted to know if it was okay."

Punk threw up his hands, confused. "Okay to…what, exactly?"

Bryan gave him a knowing smile. "To go home."

As predicted, Punk did not like hearing that. He bristled at the words. "That's not my home, Bryan," he grumbled, shaking his head in denial. "That's just a place I used to work."

"The place that made you rich," Bryan corrected. "The place where you became famous. Where you and I got together again and rode up and down the roads just like in the old days. Where you made new friends. Inspired millions of people." He smiled at him again. "It's where you met her."

Punk sighed, fighting a smile as he knew what Bryan was referring to. "AJ," he half-whispered quietly.

That was true, as much as he didn't want to admit it. For all the bad WWE had caused him over the years…there was also a lot of good. He met the love of his life there. Had he been working anywhere else in those years, it never would have happened. She might have married someone else, or maybe just walked on alone. He might have settled for someone else, or just kept walking in and out of one empty relationship after another, and kept doing so forever.

Instead, through the wildest of chances and the strangest of circumstances, they had found each other. Befriended each other. Fallen hard for each other. He still remembered their first kiss, in front of millions of people on live TV, how sweet her lips, her tongue had tasted. How he felt something shift and move in him, like an earthquake had just rocked his very soul. Through AJ, the hardened and often-wounded heart of a cynical street kid from Chicago learned what it was to find love.

Yes, Punk silently admitted, WWE had given him much to be thankful for.

"Punk…" Bryan said. "Look…don't ask me how I know, but…I think they'd want you back more than you think."

Punk scoffed at that. "C'mon, Bryan, after everything that happened? The way I've been shit-talking them the last decade? And there's no way the old man would want me there."

"Forget Vince. He's history," Bryan said. "Look, Tony would have my head if he knew this or heard me even saying this to you, but I've still got people there who are close enough to the top who clue me in on things. He's not allowed to come into the buildings anymore. He's just a figurehead after that whole TKO merger thing. It's Hunter's show now. He runs everything."

Punk rolled his eyes. "Oh, perfect. So instead of the old and out of touch asshole I hated, it's the guy whose wife I called an idiot and personally called a doofus. Great."

Bryan laughed. "Yeah, probably not the best idea. But trust me, Hunter's different now. The guy almost died from heart problems years ago. He looks at life a lot differently than he used to. And he's really gotten into teaching the younger generation at the performance center. He wants to help those young guys and girls…just like you do. He's a new man, trust me, Phil. It's not the same place from before. Vince is gone, Laurinaitis is gone, Carrano is gone, a lot of those guys you hated are gone. It's a totally new place now."

Punk frowned. He wasn't truly sure. Was it truly possible that he could come back? Even if he could…did he really want to? "I don't know…"

Bryan reached out and placed a hand firmly on Punk's shoulder. He gave him a knowing look. "Punk…you need to talk to Hunter. I have a feeling that if you do…you'll get what you've been looking for."

Part of Punk really wanted to believe it. But he had been burned so many times walking that road. He remembered well how it ended last time. He didn't want to be burned the same way twice.

Yet a part of him couldn't help wonder…what if Bryan was right? What if WWE really was a different place now? Wouldn't it be something if he could return?

Finish what he started a decade ago? Prove the doubters and his critics wrong and end his career on his terms? Maybe help some of that amazing talent he saw down there in NXT that were inspired by him and his wife's journeys? People like Roxanne Perez, like Cora Jade? Wouldn't it be cool if he could finally accomplish something he never thought he would have the chance to do…finally main event a WrestleMania? Maybe win more championship gold? Retire in a ceremony for the Hall of Fame?

Heck, Punk smirked a bit devilishly, it might be worth it just to see the look on Tony's face, or the faces of the jerkoffs that drove him out of AEW. A big middle finger to them for having the stupidity of picking their clique-y friendships and petty squabbles over him and a chance to make real money and help the business. Or to see how certain dirt sheet writers that smeared his name in the mud backpedaled and tried to justify how the impossible had happened.

But more importantly, he thought as he looked at his wedding band…he wanted to do right by her. His wife. He wanted to make her proud. He wanted to make her and Larry happy.

As if on cue, the pitter-patter of little feet came scrapping along the floor as the tiny chihuahua came onto his lap, happily licking his face. Punk laughed as he scratched behind his ears, the tiny dog that had become his and AJ's de facto child giving him some kind of assurance. As if the tiny hairless dog was somehow telling him silently…"It's okay, dad."

Bryan smiled at the sight. The old friends locked eyes. "Punk," he said, his tone friendly but firm. "Talk to Hunter. Make this right. Finish your story your way."

He gave his rebel friend an earnest stare. "Punk…you need to come home."


Punk snapped back to reality.

Somehow, he had found his way back here.

It still almost felt surreal.

It had all happened so quickly. The meeting with Hunter. The negotiations. All of it happened so fast. Picking up that phone was one of the scariest calls Punk had ever made. But man, was he ever thankful that he took Bryan's advise. The amount of money that Hunter and Nick Khan put on the table for him was one of the biggest contracts he had ever seen in his life. True, there were clauses in the contract that ensured that WWE could terminate his contract if he acted out the way he did in AEW, but that was fine with Punk. He was always fine with betting on himself. When this deal was done, it would all but ensure that neither he nor his family would ever have to worry about money ever again, assuming he could keep out of courtrooms from here on out.

Yet as time was counting down to his big moment, he felt the familiar butterflies in his stomach. Yes, this was his hometown. But it was a WWE crowd. Would they accept him back, as he had hoped? Or had the rumors about him and the smear campaign he had dealt with for months damaged him in their eyes, caused them to turn on him too?

As if on cue, a familiar, muscular form clad in an Armani suit walked through the curtain that kept him hidden from everyone else the last few hours.

Triple H.

His old nemesis. His new boss.

Crazy, Punk silently thought, still not quite believing that this was real life.

The two had broken bread before the contract weeks before. Punk tentatively asked him about his wife and kids. Hunter had responded that they were fine, even asking genuinely how AJ and Larry were doing, to which Punk smirked in response before telling him that his own family was doing well and sent their regards.

Just like that, the tensions of the past had been buried between them.

"Showtime in 1 minute. You ready?" Hunter asked, genuinely concerned.

Punk took a calming breath. He laughed a little. "I feel like I'm at my first tryout match here from years ago."

Hunter smirked a bit at that. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. That Punk didn't just have to be here…that he wanted to be here. That he was excited about being here.

He knew that not everyone was going to be happy about this news, but if nothing else, The Game knew that ultimately, like the old man had taught him, always do what was best for business.

And signing CM Punk back to WWE just ahead of Wrestlemania season was indeed what was best for business.

"Best feeling in the world, isn't it?" Hunter asked, a little envious. His days of competing in the ring were over for good, but he would never stop missing that feeling that Punk was describing. Adrenaline rushing through his body, the butterflies in his stomach, the nervous energy, the anticipation…it made one feel truly alive.

Punk flashed him a half-smile. "It's the juice, man. The action is the juice."

Hunter laughed as he caught the reference. "Well, let's see if you still got the juice. Your public is waiting for you. Break a leg, knock 'em dead, pal."

"Pal?" Punk said incredulously. "My God, Hunter, you really have become Vince, haven't you?"

Hunter laughed even louder. "Just because I'm starting to like you now, I'll pretend I didn't hear that. 30 seconds."

"Got it. Showtime," Punk nodded. Hunter nodded back before he disappeared towards the curtain.

No sooner than he had did a text message appear on his phone. Quickly as he recognized the tone, Punk picked it up.

And what he read made him smile.

Welcome back, boo. Show them who you are. Again. Love you forever. 3 3- A.J.

He felt a wave of warmth come over him as a smile spread across his face. Even in the biggest storms of his life the last few years, his April had become his rock. His shelter among the storm.

As long as he knew she loved him, in his eyes, everything else was just details.

VZZT-VZZT!

The familiar static echoed through the sold-out All-State Arena for the first time in almost a decade and the familiar chords of "Cult of Personality" by Living Color blared over the speakers as a mass of thousands of humanity suddenly screamed—SCREAMED—in shock and joy and disbelief. Like this was the World Cup and their country had scored the winning goal. Like the Cubs had won another World Series. Like Michael Jordan himself was flying through the air and dunking on his foes as he soared to another NBA championship.

And Punk smiled. He could feel that energy. Let it feed him. Let it cleanse him. Let it wash and burn away all of his past failures. The friendships he lost. The bridges he burned. The restless nights he had spent leading up to this moment.

And then he walked out through the curtain.

The screams and cheers of adulation for him were deafening. He could feel them. It hit him like a second sonic boom.

"Look in my eeeeeyes!

What do you seeee?

The Cult of Personaaaality!"

He just stood there, took it in.

So much of his life was about "What's next?" Always rushing to the next big moment, the next big score, the next goal and milestone. He never took the time to stop and smell the roses.

Maybe it was age, maybe it was time, maybe it was the experience or nostalgia or something else. But Punk decided to remember all of this. Take in every detail. The way his hand smacked the pavement in pure emotion as he stood on the ramp in the spot where he made his most famous speech ever 12 years ago. The way the fans screamed "IT'S CLOBBERING TIME!" at him on cue.

The way that the other WWE Superstars across the ring from him stared at him after a brutal and exhilarating War Games.

The surprised smile from Cody Rhodes.

The quirky grin from Sami Zayn.

The familiar pearly-white smile of his old friend Jey Uso.

The dumbfounded stares of Rhea Ripley, Damien Priest and Finn Balor.

The resentful stare of Dominik Mysterio.

The cheeky smirk of approval from Randy Orton.

And definitely one in particular…the stare of shock, of outrage, of absolute seething hatred from Seth Rollins, the reigning World Heavyweight Champion.

How he raged. How he cursed. How he flipped him the middle finger as he screamed and shouted at Punk like a madman, like Punk had stolen money from him.

I definitely stole his moment, Punk smirked in amusement. Much as he didn't like dealing with toxicity anymore, he had to admit, he looked forward to dealing with Seth "Freaking" Rollins down the road. He had been calling him out for years. Punk had to admit…it would be nice to teach that kid the meaning of "Be careful what you wish for."

Ignoring him again, Punk turned back to the fans, letting them embrace him with open arms. Screaming, hugging him, crying, shaking, some even trying to kiss him.

Thundering and rocking the building as they shook it to its core with chants of "CM PUNK! CM PUNK! CM PUNK! CM PUNK! CM PUNK! CM PUNK!"

And it all felt…right.

For the first time in almost a decade…CM Punk felt like he was home.

And it felt awesome.

With one loud yell, he shouted to the world. A guttural sound. A sound of pure emotion. Of pure exhilaration.

He let it be known…

The Best was Back.

And he was here to stay.

He was here to finish his own story.

He was here…to shock the world.


One Hour Later


Punk barely had time to pull himself away from the people in the back that had swarmed around him, Superstars and staff and even fans alike.

A lot of them were happy to see him.

Some, he noticed by the scowls and looks of suspicion, were not.

But that was okay. He wasn't here to make friends. This wasn't about a popularity contest, it never was. He was here to finish his story his way, not the way that a few immature jerkoffs thought they had by doing a victory lap in his city on what were supposed to be the ashes of his career.

He was here to remind everyone just who in the hell he was.

He's CM Punk.

The Best in the fucking World.

And he would never let them forget it.

As he made his way out to a garage space safely away from fans, he smiled as he saw a familiar face waiting for him near his rental car.

A face he loved.

AJ. April. His beloved wife.

Squealing, AJ Lee sprinted towards him, leaping up into his arms as she wrapped her small, but muscular legs around his waist, arms encircling his neck, peppering him with kisses, to which he laughed at before he returned the kisses in kind.

"I'm trending, aren't I?" he smirked, almost ruefully.

AJ giggled. "You're trending. You troublemaker, you." She kissed him again.

"Worldwide?" he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Universe-wide, baby," she smiled, laughing as she kissed him again.

Gently setting her down, he held her hand, a smile on his face as he took all of it in.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" he asked aloud.

"Yeah. It is," AJ nodded. Biting her lip in concern, she reached up and touched his face. "Phil…are you sure about this? Coming back?"

Punk hadn't been sure before he stepped through that curtain. But now, he was definitely sure. It was a brand new WWE. The landscape had changed. It was new territory again. With new challenges to conquer. New obstacles to overcome.

And it excited him. For the first time in years, he felt truly excited about being a part of WWE again.

"Yeah, babe," he nodded. "This is just something I have to do."

Nodding, she smiled. All she had ever wanted was for the man she loved to be happy. To find his happiness, his peace. If this is what he had to do to finally find it, then she was with him all the way.

"Then, no matter what…I'm with you," she promised him, gazing at him adoringly with those expressive brown eyes that had enraptured him from the moment he first saw her.

He gazed into her eyes, loving her more than anything in the world right now. "I love you."

She squeezed his hand, smiling. "I love you back," she uttered softly.

Their lips met, their arms encircled one another.

This, Punk decided, was home. She was home. Larry was home. This was the center of his universe.So long as she was in his life, in his eyes, he would always have a home.

And for a long moment, nothing else in the world existed but them, and them alone…

"Ahem," a familiar voice called from behind them.

Breaking apart, Punk and AJ glanced towards the person that had interrupted them. Punk smirked. "Hunter. Bad timing," he smirked.

Hunter laughed, giving them an apologetic look. "Sorry, couldn't let you leave without giving you congratulations. We're breaking the internet. ESPN, USA Today, they're all calling right now. Our PR team is going to be working overtime tonight."

"Tell them coffee's on me, then," Punk chuckled.

Hunter's eyes turned to AJ.

"Hey," he greeted warmly.

AJ gave him a warm smile. "Hey." She regarded him for a moment. "You look good."

"So do you. Great, actually," Hunter nodded, impressed. He then smiled as he opened his arms. "Hey, come on, it's been years. Bring it in."

AJ pretended to give him a wary look, smiling in teasing fashion. "You don't have your sledgehammer nearby, do you?"

Laughing, Hunter went along with it. "Nah, I left it in my other suit. Come here, girl."

The two hugged each other, the first time they've done that in years. Punk smiled as he watched them, all of this feeling like it was really the start of a new beginning.

AJ pulled away. "How's the family?"

"Steph? She's good. Kids are good. How's Larry?" Hunter smiled.

"Still adorable," she smiled back.

"Well, I won't keep you two long. Punk, here's your travel arrangements, I'll have you fly over to Raw on Monday.We're going to set the damn world on fire," Hunter grinned as he handed Punk an envelope.

Punk smiled. "I'll be there."

"Better be, we're paying a lot of money for you," Hunter quipped.

"And you'll make back every penny and then some," Punk replied, his trademark cocky smile on his face.

Hunter laughed. "That's what I want to hear. Let's show those fuckers in Jacksonville what a real victory lap looks like."

Punk couldn't agree more. He was going to show everyone why he was who he said he was. He couldn't wait.

"I'll catch you later, Hunter. Me and my lady are going to go and get some celebratory steak," Punk said as he walked around to the car door.

"It was great seeing you, Hunter," AJ smiled, hugging him again.

"Same here, kid," the King of Kings grinned, hugging her back.

As she stared to turn to go, Hunter's voice stopped her.

"Oh, and AJ?" His eyes twinkled mischievously. "If you ever get an itch that needs scratching, just remember…we always have room for one more."

AJ's eyes widened for a moment as she understood what he was saying.

Exactly what he was trying to say.

Laughing nervously, AJ shook her head. "I don't know if you're ready for me to dust my Chuck Taylors off yet…but I'll remember that, H."

Triple H shrugged, but his smile never wavered. "Fair enough, just putting it out there. But just remember…"

Hunter's eyes trailed to Punk, then returned to AJ. "Never say never, kid."

He winked at her, then waved goodbye to the couple as The Game returned to the arena to face the room of clamoring reporters buzzing about the biggest shock return in professional wrestling history.

Trying to downplay his new employer's words, Punk laughed as he reached and squeezed AJ's thigh affectionately. "Funny guy, that Hunter. Always working."

AJ's face, however, grew a bit pensive as the Game's words echoed in her mind. "Yeah…" she smiled shakily. "Funny guy…"

Punk caught her eyes. He could tell something was on her mind. "Apes? AJ? Babe, what's up?"

Plastering a smile on her face, AJ tried to laugh it off. "Nothing. Not important."

Punk didn't buy it. He knew her better than that. He had learned to read her moods almost as well as she had learned to read his. When something bothered him, he couldn't shut up about it. When something troubled her, she grew quiet. Internalized it. Thought it over and analyzed it every which way.

"That's not a 'nothing' face you've got," he said. "Is that something you think about? Getting back in the ring?"

AJ sighed. She would be lying if a part of her didn't still love this. She would always love it. Wrestling was a part of who she was. It gave her everything she wanted. It gave her the man she loved, this sweet, handsome, funny, crazy mess of a man that she couldn't help but love with her whole heart and soul.

But there was a reason—many reasons—why she walked away. And why she stayed away.

"Wrestling is…was a dream, baby," she sighed wistfully. "It was a beautiful dream. But that dream is over for me. I'm…I'm done. And…" she paused, swallowing for a moment, as if she had to coax the words to leave her mouth. "I'm okay with that."

Punk looked at her, a little sadly. He would be lying if he didn't say that sometimes he felt a little guilty about this. While AJ had long ago explained her frustrations with him about the business and why she walked away at the height of her popularity, part of him couldn't help but wonder if the way he left played a role in why the most talented woman he ever knew decided to leave her passion as he had.

Silently, he promised himself to talk with her about it when the time came.

"Okay, enough sad talk," AJ said, giving him a real smile as she lovingly stroked his cheek. "Let's get out of here and try not to run over your adoring fans on the way to dinner."

Smiling, he brought her soft hand to his lips, adorning it with a kiss. "Yes, m'aam."

The car roared to life and the couple began their slow drive out from the All-State Arena parking lot. As expected, mobs of fans gathered to meet them, excitedly taking pictures and shouting adulations at them.

"Welcome back, Punk!"

"We love you, Punk!"

"Punk, you're the man!"

"BEST IN THE WOOORLD!"

"CM PUNK! CM PUNK! CM PUNK! CM PUNK!"

"Hey, that's AJ LEE!"

"AJ! Oh my God!"

"I love you, AJ!"

"We miss you, AJ!"

"PLEASE COME BAAACK!"

"AJ! AJ! AJ! AJ!"

Punk smiled and waved, and a blushing AJ giggled as she waved to the rabid fans while they drove out of the arena.

Yet the chants still echoed behind them, chanting for both of them. And AJ would have been lying to herself if she said she didn't feel a little…

…something.

A longing. Nostalgia, maybe. Maybe…maybe…

…an itch…

Shaking it off, she squeezed her husband's hand tenderly as they continued to drive into the night.

Neither of them knew what the future had in store for them.

But if there was one thing they both knew, it was this: whatever it was, it was no match for the two of them together.

CM Punk and AJ Lee.

Phil and April.

A rebel and his crazy chick.

Them against the world…

Punk looked at the love of his life smiling excitedly while looking at the open road ahead of them.

And he smiled from deep inside his soul. The world won't know what hit it…


A/N: The Best is Back ;)

Oh, yeah, and CM Punk is back, too. lol jk!

A lot has happened since I last wrote any kind of fanfic WWE-related. A LOT-a lot. Haha

But since the return that shocked the world, I've been talking with a good buddy of mine online on Twitter (not calling it "X"), and his shared love of wrestling helped drag me out of retirement. Back to a fandom I thought I'd probably never write about again. And revisiting probably my favorite romance of this genre: Punklee.

CM Punk and AJ Lee.

The Best in the World and the Black Widow.

The Rebel and his Crazy Chick.

God, I missed them :)

(Thanks, Ed!)

I'm busier than ever these days, so I have no idea how long I will be writing this, but the title of this fic, "Separate Ways", will follow the paths of four people.

Four icons whose stories need to be finished. (Oops, did I give something away? ;) )

Maybe it's just four one-shots. Maybe it goes on longer. I honestly don't know. But what I can say is that I hope it will be a fun read for y'all.

Like, comment, and follow for more. Until next time, and Happy Holidays and a fantastic New Year!


-Best,

Jean-theGuardian