Unfiended

Chapter 3

The room Hunter used as an office obviously changed from venue to venue but he always had a way of making the space look utterly his own. Part of it was his stature, but it was mostly his energy—the essence of power with veins of calculating shrewdness and unwavering precision. This particular office was larger than most, but as soon as Seth and Roman led Becky inside, it suddenly felt like a vise. Glancing down at the desk, Seth spotted Hunter's cell phone, the screen paused on the pre-attack portion of Sasha's birthday video for her brother, and Seth gritted his teeth. There was no possible way this could go well.

To his surprise, though, Hunter flipped the phone screen-side down and stood. "Roman, why don't you and Becky wait outside for a couple minutes? I'd like to talk to Seth first."

Roman gave a small nod, looping a friendly arm around Becky's shoulders. "Sure thing. C'mon, Becks. I've got some new pictures of the kids on my phone I wanted to show you. Trips will call us when he's ready." Becky resisted at first, asking why they couldn't have stayed out in the parking area if Hunter didn't need them right away, but Roman steered her out of the office and shut the door behind them.

Hunter pointed down at his phone, not taking his gaze off Seth. "You've already seen that, I presume?"

Seth nodded, pressing a fist to his mouth. He had covered up a lot of things for Becky in the early days of her recovery and he knew Hunter had too, but there were limits, and this went far beyond them. "Yeah. I . . . don't know. I honestly don't know what happened. I wish I did. She can have great days—so many good days in a row that I almost forget anything was wrong—and then she'll zone out and stare at the wall for an hour. I don't know what to do."

"Zoning out is one thing, Rollins." Hunter sat back down and motioned for Seth to sit as well. "We can explain that away in a match by feeding a line or two to commentary; she's too unpredictable for us to add it to a storyline. But if she does something like that out in the ring?" He tapped the back of his phone for emphasis. "What if she attacked her tag team partner or the referee—or a fan at ringside?"

"I know." Seth struggled to keep focussed, keep calm. Becky was his fiancee, practically his wife, and in a matter of weeks she had gone from his best friend to a complete mystery. It made him feel like a failure, like all the worry and indecision and criticism they had endured early on in their relationship was going to win. "Trust me, I'm open to suggestions."

"I'm glad you said that." Then Hunter grabbed his phone, closed the video, and tapped the screen a few times. Mere moments later, there was a knock on the door. "Come in."

Seth's first thought was Roman, which didn't make sense; it would have been so easy to simply stand, open the door, and call him in. Hunter also wouldn't risk bringing Charlotte in so soon after Becky had snapped, and Bayley and Sasha were probably still helping Charlotte calm down. "Hey, Hunter. Hey, Seth." The Southern drawl wasn't as pronounced as it had been during the Wyatt Family days, but that voice was unmistakable. "What's going on?"

"You can help," Seth growled, "by either getting the fuck out of here or telling us what you did to Becky." He wrapped his fingers around the chair arms so he couldn't hit Bray, and the wood groaned in response. I called him. I called him and I told him Becky was back and I apologized to him. It all seemed so surreal now.

Hunter got up and moved to stand in between Seth and Bray. "Seth, calm down and listen. Bray's only here to help."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Seth snapped, standing up. He glared at Hunter first. "You don't get to tell me to calm down after my wife just tried to choke out her best friend. And you," he added, turning his angry gaze on Bray, "you just stay the fuck away from her. You can claim all you want that you didn't do anything, but I know you did—"

Seth swore he caught a glint of malice in Bray's eyes, but of course by the time Hunter looked over at him, it was gone. "Seth, we've been through this. Whatever trauma Becky's been through, she needs stability, simplicity, and honesty." Bray's voice was cloyingly concerned. "Calling her your wife when you're not married yet could be confusing to her—"

If Hunter had been even an inch further away, Seth would have managed to get his hands around Bray's throat. As it was, he got a handful of shirt instead. "Rollins, stop it!" Hunter bellowed, wrapping both arms around him and tugging him back. Bray was infuriatingly calm, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "Do you want me to suspend you and Becky?"

This is for Becky, Seth kept telling himself. There wasn't much he wouldn't do if it meant keeping her safe, but that didn't make it any easier. "Fine. Fine." He stepped back and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. This . . . this is about Becky. If you can help, then I'm all for it. I don't know what else to do." It was hard to admit and not just because Bray was there, but this wasn't a time for inflated egos and toxic pride. "What can I do to help?"

"Has she talked to anyone?" Bray asked, keeping his gaze on Seth. "A professional, I mean? Family and friends are great and all, but therapists are going to be more objective."

Before Seth could reply, Hunter cleared his throat, keeping himself between Seth and Bray. "We had her talk with a therapist we've used before. It was a condition she had to meet before we would clear her to compete." Then Hunter shrugged. "Obviously the therapist couldn't tell me what was said. Patient confidentiality and all that. But she confirmed that Becky did attend all her appointments and that they discussed her disappearance." Once he seemed confident that Seth and Bray weren't going to tear each other apart, he went back to his chair.

Seth gave a small nod. "She always seemed a little unsettled after those sessions, but mostly in a good way, if that makes any sense. Like she was moving past something that was uncomfortable."

"It's possible that things just . . . got mixed up in her head, you know?" Hunter sat back and stroked his beard. "The two of you were feuding, so maybe Becky's brain did some . . . creative editing. She had a trauma and didn't know how to process it, so her brain picked something she could fathom—the Firefly Fun House—and used that as a mask."

Bray kept his hands in a placating position. "I'm happy to help however I can. Becky's always been kind to me, even when I didn't necessarily deserve it. But I honestly don't know what good you think I can do—"

"No puppets," Seth said firmly. Becky hadn't been able to even talk to Paige for weeks, spooked by her resemblance to the Abby the Witch doll, and anything with grey fur made her flinch. "No masks. No gimmicks. And I get to be present." Glancing over at Hunter, Seth relented. This is for Becky, he reminded himself again. Get your ego out of the way. "I'm there or Roman is. I want someone there who's a friend, but not. . . ."

"Not someone she's likely to overpower?" Hunter stood. "I had a room cleared out farther back. We'll all fit, as all as we all promise to get along. I just want hear to what Becky will say to Bray." He looked back and forth between Bray and Seth. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Bray widened his eyes and shook his head. "No problems here. I just want to help."

One of the gloves still says HURT, though, Seth thought, trying to keep his frustration off his face. At last he nodded, standing slowly so his movement wouldn't be construed as a threat. "No problems from me. I just want Becky to get better."

"Good. We're on the same page then." Hunter gestured to the door. "Let's get Becky and Roman and get this mess sorted. Seth, after you."

Seth rolled his eyes. "Hunter, I'm not going to—"

"After you. Hunter's tone brooked no argument, so Seth stepped out of the office first. Becky and Roman were sitting on some equipment trunks, and Seth was glad they were both engrossed by the photos on Roman's phone. It gave him an extra moment to compose himself so Becky wouldn't see the frustration in his eyes—or the fear.