A/N: After careful consideration, I decided to continue this story onward and depict Dean Ambrose's reaction to his feud with Seth Rollins post-Shield. This is going to hurt but of course I'm going to enjoy it anyway, because I'm Ambrollins and Shield trash. I hope you enjoy it, too. ;)

June 16, 2014

Things are changing.

For one, we don't have a WWE champion right now. D-Bry got asked to step back because of his injury. The Authority came out on Raw tonight talking mad shit about the former champ, then announced a Battle Royal to determine Orton's competitor for the belt at Money in the Bank.

Oh but guess who DIDN'T get the opportunity to compete in the Battle Royal? To quote Trips, "certain superstars who have yet to EVOLVE, certain superstars who didn't comply with the Authority." *giant obvious winking face, elbow nudge*

MEANING: me and Roman. That's right.

I fucking hate Triple H.

Didn't stop me from getting out there. Rollins had a match against Sir Ramen Hair and I jumped into that ring and beat the hell out of him.

I thought it would feel good. I thought it would feel GREAT. He deserves far worse pain than that for what he did to Ro and me. Here's the thing, though, it didn't help at all.

It hurt me so much to hit him. If he hadn't scampered out of that ring like a little bitch, I just might have stopped willingly. I was angry. I was almost crying. I wanted to tear his hair from his scalp as much as I wanted to hug him and tell him I still miss him against everything logical.

Instead I told him it wasn't over. His extremely punchable face was long overdue for a beating. I baited him back to the ring so I could finish what I started while my fury was still pipin' hot.

Part of me wishes he had. Part of me was relieved he didn't.

Suddenly Hunter's also extremely punchable face took up the entire TitanTron and he implored I calm down. I've never hated him more than I did seeing him just above the face of my former brother, my best friend turned bitter rival. It's his fault. It's all Hunter's fault. Hunter stole Seth from me and I was going to give SOMEONE hell to pay for it.

So Trips sic'd Bad News Barrett on me.

Which, fine. Okay. Whatever. I can beat a man half to death and not have to look into the beautiful, sad, angry eyes of Seth Rollins. Fuck, I can't even write his full name anymore without shaking so bad. Rollins it is.

I was good. I was rolling in upcoming victory. I ached from his hits—guy's a good fighter—but I was holding strong.

Until.

Rollins showed up before the end. He stood on the announce table, calling out to me as a distraction.

I wish I was cocky and tenacious enough to admit he couldn't get to me.

But he did. He always had and I'm pretty sure he always will.

I threw Barrett out of the ring and knocked both of them out with a dive through the ropes. My shoulder was screaming at me for ice and meds but this had to be done. One way or another I was going to get Rollins back.

Rollins tried to crawl away. Coward. I trailed him over the barricade. "YOU FEEL THIS!?" I asked him while swinging a punch into his back that could have had way more force behind it. "DO YOU FEEL THIS!?"

I didn't care about the match or the ref counting down. I cared about Rollins. NO, THAT ISN'T THE TRUTH, I CARED ABOUT HURTING HIM. He wasn't fighting back and that's what sucked the most. At least if he hit me in response I could counter it. Wailing on a guy who doesn't want to fight, bur rather run, is just pathetic.

Especially when he put up an arm, as if to say, "Please…don't hurt me."

He's still my weakness.

So I stopped.

I reentered the ring just as Barrett was declared the winner and struck him down like lightning. Dirty Deeds'd him, took my anger out on him instead. A hit worthy of Rollins, cast down upon another.

I'm pathetic. I am such a wreck.

How am I going to do this?

Anyway Roman was able to manipulate his way into the Battle Royal. My boy. Guy ended up winning the whole thing too, which is crazy awesome and I know I should be happier for him. But the night started off a disaster, so I can't make myself be any merrier than I am right now.

I am proud of Roman, though, damn proud. I hope he makes it all the way.

June 17, 2014

Couldn't sleep last night.

Can't remember the last time I had a full night's rest.

Even when the Shield was together, some nights were hard to catch up on rest.

Now it's every night.

So I did a weird thing. I grabbed this book and went up to the roof of our hotel. Got a nice view of the sunrise going. Pink and orange streaks like the ends of paintbrushes stirring in a dark sky. It's nice.

Sorry I know I'm rambling but I'm so tired. You know the pain of being so exhausted but you can't go to sleep? Hurts. Hurts everywhere, brain, body, heart.

Staying in home sweet home Ohio for Smackdown this week. Feels nice to be back, that's for sure. Roman said he'd take me to lunch later. Guess he's not up for moving on without me like Rollins is. Thank God.

He knows what's going on in my mind.

And that can't be said about just anyone.

What are Roman and I up to now? I don't know. He's got a solid future ahead of him, probably, for that championship belt. I don't really have anything to do. Maybe shoot for Barrett's title or something.

Never been so lost before.

Dammit, Rollins, why does the world make way more sense when you're here?

June 18, 2014

Main Event was last night and Rollins? Boy oh boy. You're asking to die now. You are ASKING to die. Congratulating Reigns for his victory Monday but saying there will be repercussions from the Authority? You make us both suffer by the day, you think he can't handle your little bosses? To hell with you.

Calling us his "former business associates" was another knife to my back, too. "FORMER BUSINESS ASSOCIATES"!? We were brothers, Seth! WE WERE FAMILY! How dare you, you son of a bitch.

But why does that kind of behavior even surprise me anymore? It shouldn't.

Anyway I'd had enough and I got enough of a charge to get out there and kick his ass until dainty little Kane showed up and tried interfering. But to hell with him, too. (HA. Pun totally intended.) I got out of there unscathed. Now I gotta face Kane on Smackdown.

Glorious.

Roman and I had a good talk last night, too. We went out to both lunch that afternoon and a late dinner after Main Event, and I made the decision to be honest about my feelings. He knows, of course he knows, but if I get it out in the open, maybe it'd help.

It's a process. I'm still feeling rotten but small steps, right?

"Backstabbing elephant in the room?" is how I started the conversation.

"Forget him," Roman answered me. "He's not worth it, Dean. He's not."

Yes. He is. Or he was, and he wasn't supposed to be anymore, but this was Honesty Hour. "I'll kill him. I could."

"You're hurt. I know you are, and I am, too. But we can't linger in the past, Dean. We've got to look forward."

Look forward? To what? His championship run, and my what? My nothing with a side of Rollins loathing? "You're handling this way better than I am."

"I'm really not. Look, I'm just as broken up about it as you are."

I doubted it. That or the guy's in denial which isn't any healthier.

"Then why are you so calm?" I asked him.

"I don't know," he said through a sigh. "I don't know, maybe…" His fingers drummed on the table. We were eating outside, on the restaurant's patio. It was a beautiful day. Table for two. "Maybe I'm just still in shock."

"Well, that, and you've got a good thing going for you. Rollins has his new mommy and daddy, you've got a title match up and coming. I'm happy for you."

"You jealous?"

I almost snorted. "I'm jealous you have a distraction."

"We're gonna make it big in the company, you and I. You hear me? Rollins made the biggest mistake of his life, leaving the best guys in the business. Hunter thinks he's such an artist, a master in the profession. But that's all he's got is his power. Us? We've got power, we've got strength, we've got skill. Everything he once had and traded for a suit and tie. He can't do anything to us anymore."

I felt like smashing a glass again. My fists clenched under the table.

"Anymore," Roman repeated for my sake. "So he stabbed us pretty hard in the side, out of nowhere, turning Rollins against us. But if Rollins wasn't truly with us, if he had the potential to do something like that, then he wasn't good to keep around anyway, was he?"

I couldn't buy it. Rollins kept the Shield together for longer than I could have managed, if me and Roman continued snapping at each other. Seth wasn't just truly with us—he WAS us. He WAS the Shield, on days we didn't have the strength to be.

But I didn't want to argue with Ro. He's only trying to help. I know he feels me. It's gonna hurt like a bitch when that shock corrodes and all that remains is pain.

After all, I'd watched Seth beat Roman down before my eyes. I'd seen it coming in a way Roman couldn't have anticipated. He'd just felt the chair on his back without the chance to brace.

I wonder what hurts worse. Watching it happen like I did, or just feeling it and knowing, oh, this is the life now. Rollins is gone and I have literally nothing left but the other guy laying next to me in agony.

Spoiler alert: both feel pretty shitty.

June 19, 2014

Slept till noon today. Nightmares kept jerking me awake until at least five or so, when my body finally caved and said, "Look, you're just gonna have to power through these bad dreams, dude, because I've gotta rest up." Now I'm all jumpy.

Smackdown tomorrow. Wonder what else is in store for us.

I hate the word us. Used to mean something else. Something better.

Hope Roman doesn't get the belt and drop me like deadweight.

Dunno who to trust anymore.

June 20, 2014

Wish I had a job where you can call in sick. I usually love my job more than anything but eh. You already know the story. Not gonna waste my ink repeating myself.

Orton challenged Roman in the ring and Roman beat the hell out of him. Good. I blame Orton too, now that I think about it, for what happened to Rollins. He played a part in it, I know he did. He's the one Rollins handed the chair over to, after beating the shit out of me. Orton annihilated Roman with that thing.

Seth changed his gear. Changed his music. Waiting for him to change his hair now. Get rid of the blond, you look like a tool. He came out against Kofi Kingston and won. Poor Kofi. I totally had you picked as my winner, man. Rollins grabbed a mic and tried to brag to the world about what a special snowflake he was but I interrupted him. Got myself access on the TitanTron and guaranteed I was gonna get even with him. When? Dunno. I sure as hell don't. I gotta get a game plan going.

He called me by my name which nearly weakened me until he threatened to kick my teeth out. Ah, that's the Seth I know now. Coward. Angry little small child. I told him to stop it. Told him I'm sending him and his little buddy back where they both belong: hell.

Figures Rollins was on commentary for my match against Kane. That was the hardest part: focusing on Kane when my heart and soul went out to defeating another opponent, one who was dressed in a crisp suit and not even in the match. I hate him. I hate him so much.

Congratulations, Rollins, whatever tactic you plotted sitting ringside sure worked because I couldn't stand looking at his face anymore. I needed him to bleed. I attacked him after getting Kane out of the ring. "AMBROSE COULDN'T CONTAIN HIS EMOTIONS!" I remember Cole declaring. What a pitiful truth it was. Kane grabbed me and managed to finish me off. Stupid, really. Can't just blame the two of them. I blame myself.

I've got to get a handle on my feelings. I need to learn how to fight him and win, not fight him and back down. Not fighting him certainly ain't an option anymore. Not after what he's started. Not after what I WILL finish. To quote Ro, believe that.

Because Rollins hauled his ass into the ring after Kane and Curbstomped me to the mat. Waves of "YOU SOLD OUT! YOU SOLD OUT!" drowned us. I could feel him standing above me, hearing him snarl over the chants. The same snarl I'd hear past his lips when someone like Orton was hurting me. When he was angry for me, not at me. When he cared about me.

Why so angry, Rollins? You did this, not me.

He left me there, alone, hurting. Again. Better get used to that crap.

Anyway the night ended with John Cena, Sheamus and Roman versus Orton, Alberto Del Rio, Cesaro and Bray Wyatt. It was a long match I had to enjoy backstage, from a monitor, while a medical examiner checked out my shoulder and ribs. My boy Roman won for his team by Spearing ADR.

Nine days till MITB.

I have a feeling that belt belongs to him.

June 21, 2014

Watched the sunrise again this morning. Couldn't sleep, again. Might invest in NyQuil or something for a while until I can get back to a decent schedule. In this company, yeah, that's a laugh, but I won't be able to walk in a straight line let alone fight anyone, let alone win, if I don't heal myself physically.

I remember this one time, me and Roman and Seth were driving to Colorado for Raw. We took a lot of road trips back then, driving everywhere instead of flying, because I totally understood Seth's aversion to airports. We'd been driving for a couple hours and the sun was about to come up. Seth turned to me, driving with eyes half open, and said, "Can we pull over?"

We were in Kansas. Middle of nowhere on an endless highway. Why did he wanna pull over?

"For what?" I asked.

"You look ready to pass out. I don't want you to crash and get us all killed."

"I'm going out in a fiery explosion, remember? No stupid little car wreck is gonna take this guy out. Michael Bay's gonna direct my death."

Through a smile he said, "Just trust me, Dean."

So I pulled over. Roman was snoozing in the backseat. The angle of the car towards the highway got us a full look of the distant horizon. The sky was blood-red, bursting spurts of orange the higher the sun elevated. It was too bright to look at for too long. I closed my eyes, falling asleep for a little bit when I heard Seth sigh and it woke me up.

I opened my eyes and looked his way. He had a composition book open in his lap, twirling a Bic pen around his thumb.

"You alright?" I asked, wondering about the book.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"You know what I've wanted my whole life, Dean?"

"That's an easy one. To be the WWE champion." He'd had the dream as a kid and he was closer than ever at that point. I was proud of him. Was.

"And I keep reminding myself, day by day, that everything I've done in my life up until this point—whether it was a smart decision or something really, really stupid—everything I've done has brought me here. To you guys, to the company. Life shaped a path and I walked right down to my destiny."

I'd never heard him talk like this before. I figured he'd been listening to that emo music again recently. But he was sounding a bit more cheery than those screaming monkeys. "So you believe everything happens for a reason."

"Absolutely, I do. Whether you know the reason or not, whether you love what's happening in your life or you're raising your head to the sky and wondering, what the hell? It's all for a purpose. It's all to whittle you into the man you're meant to be."

Yep. He'd been listening to it, alright. I wondered what song he was quoting. Sounded profound.

"If there's anything you remember me teaching you, Ambrose, when we're old and senile and bitching about how modern wrestling is terrible compared to the good old days, remember this: don't live with regrets. Not a single one."

"No regrets," I repeated.

"None. It's a waste of your time crying over things you can't help. If you can't make a difference, forget about it. No regrets. Do what you gotta do. Everything happens for a reason."

I wasn't sure if I believed him word for word, but I remember loving how confident he was in himself.

He scribbled something in the composition book.

"What is that?" I asked.

"My journal."

The answer actually surprised me. "You keep a journal?"

"Yeah. I write songs in it, just my thoughts sometimes. Good way to keep my head clear of unnecessary crap that clogs my focus."

"Are they nu metal songs?" I teased him.

"Ha. Maybe. If I ever get around to singing them."

"Please don't. Spare my ears."

Seth laughed heartily. "You know, you should try it sometime."

"What? Writing songs or keeping a diary?"

"It's not a diary, first of all, it's a journal. Sounds tougher. Second of all, yes, you should invest in keeping one. Feels good to just get everything in your head out there without hurting anyone, y'know? Nobody will judge you for it."

Roman might have, for the act of keeping a journal alone. Maybe that was why Seth reserved confessing the fact for me, just me, while Roman was out of it.

"I'll look into it sometime," I told him.

Eventually listening to him.

You're right, Rollins, it does feel good to get it all out there. Unfortunately that isn't enough. I'd rather write how I feel and then hit you so hard your nose breaks off into your brain.

And you're also right, Rollins, when you say it's better for a man to live with no regrets. I won't regret anything I do to you from this day on. After all, things happen for a reason, right?

Maybe it still hurts me so much knowing the right thing to do is make you pay for what you did.

But I'm learning I'm capable.

Gets easier by the day.

June 22, 2014

Roman's starting to lose it.

We still share a hotel room, if that wasn't made clear, mostly for my sake, but I like to believe I'm helping him out with my company too. But he came out of the shower earlier and I noticed his eyes were red.

"What's wrong?" I asked. Looked like he'd been crying.

"Shampoo got in my eye."

Lie. The eyes didn't look enflamed, just red. Little puffy, just a little. "Ro—"

"Hey, don't worry about me. Let's get packed, okay? Airport time."

He was deflecting which isn't his usual way of dealing with stuff. He usually tackles it head-on without thinking it through. Rollins was the one to calm him down into a more sensible mindset. Now that he's gone, we both have to start over in more ways than one.

"If you're upset, you can tell me, brother. I've cried on your shoulder too many times now—"

"Dean. I'm fine. Drop it."

I wanted to help but I was already pressing a wedge between us enough as it was. I let it go. We got dressed and left without talking about it.

I should tell him to invest in a journal.

Seth Rollins might be a sniveling, backstabbing, arrogant, feeble little bitch, but he did help shape me into a better man and a better wrestler. I used to feel I owed him for it. And now…

Yeah. I supposed I do owe him a little payback.