You started your wrestling career in California, with promotions ranging from APW, which many didn't even know about, to PWG, where you currently still ran around when possible. You had found your way out of California, to the mid-west and east coast, settling in to matches with AIW and DREAMWAVE and Beyond, among others. And that had led you to ROH, as a regular, as well. You were one of the in-ring announcers, and one of the first to demand a match when the opportunity arose.

Indy wrestling was the world you lived and breathed.

You'd made best friends along the way, such as Colt Cabana and Candice LeRae, Chuck Taylor and the Briscoes. And you'd made other close friends, and just friends in general. It was hard to be on the road with the same people and not become some type of weird-hybrid-friend-family. It was obvious that each other were all you had sometimes, and everyone found someone to be with while away from their loved ones.

You had a way of meeting people, and getting to know them where they were at. You knew better than to expect everyone to be the same, and you expected flaws and mistakes as happily as you accepted changes and successes. What mattered to you was what was at the core of a person; their heart and soul. If they had good intentions, but bad execution, you had no issue helping them figure out how to show the world their true objectives. You tried to be helpful without being intrusive or overbearing.

Having been around the wrestling community for a number of years, and being open to learning everything and anything from anyone who offered, you had a good head on your shoulders. You learned from your mistakes, and the mistakes you saw others make. You had sharpened your ability to think situations through before they happened; looking ahead was a big part of your personality. You liked to envision the pros and cons, the different paths choices could take you, and all the outcomes that could happen.

It was all of this that made it no surprise many found their way to you for advice and support, and a shoulder to cry on and a brain to pick. It was no wonder many called you "momma bear" on the road either.

And then things…changed.

You had been happily in a long-term relationship with your fiancé, Evan, since high school. He was the home you went to when you weren't wrapped up in wrestling. He loved you, supported your wild dreams, and refused to let you settle for anything but your best. He was your best friend, your partner, your teammate. You learned how to share yourself with someone else because of him, and learned how to care for others because of him. When nothing else made sense, when your body hurt, and your brain had a million thoughts…he was peace.

So when he died, the result of a late night car accident where the other driver had one too many drinks and thought themselves invincible, everything stopped making sense. 9 years together, and he was gone. Just like that.

While you believed yourself a strong, independent woman, you realized very quickly that the partnership you had with Evan was what kept you stable in life. Yes, you could keep yourself alive, but he helped to keep you sane and sensible. He had been what you were to so many others on the road. He had been your sounding board, your secret keeper, and without him, you felt as though every feeling and thought and worry was just stuck inside of you.

Your friends tried, bless them, to fill his role.

Candice texted daily, even if it was just a cute picture of an otter or an invitation for a Disney songs Facetime singalong. She redid your makeup after ugly crying had washed it clean away. Chuck Taylor offered to get absolutely shit canned with you, more than once, and you, more than once, took him up on the offer. You knew there was laughter shared with him, but it was always blurry in the hangover the next day. Colt was quick for a joke, and just as quick to see through your smoke screen of a grieving-but-ok-widow. He was more apt to let you come to him with your worries and concerns though. Patience, surprisingly, was a strong suit of Colt Cabana.

Jay Briscoe…he wasn't that way. He saw through your "bullshit", as he said, and called you out on it regularly. Jay didn't allow you to wallow and hide; he forced you to say your worst feelings and fears and thoughts to him. He had tough love down to a science, playing the big brother role to perfection. While you hated him for it sometimes, you also knew he was doing it because he cared. Because he saw you holding everything in, and it worried him what that would do to you. He was a friend that wasn't going to let you slip away.

Which brought you to Adam Cole.

You had been friends many years, sharing many of the same locker rooms and sometimes rings together. The two of you had been in friend groups together before, grabbing food before the show or a beer after. You'd had conversations, sharing similar likes in some music, movies, and video games. He was by no means your best friend, but he was a good friend all the same. He was higher up on the list of people you'd hang out with on the road than most.

You had been involved in the infamous Guerilla Warefare match, which saw you, Candice, Joey Ryan, and Chris Hero taking on Adam, Roderick Strong, and the Young Bucks at PWG. While Candice had taken a thumbtack shoe to the face, which was rightfully so the biggest moment of the match, you had taken multiple big moves from Adam, including being thrown in to the crowd's chairs as while as a piledriver on the ring apron. You had put your life in his hands, and he had delivered in all the right ways. You remembered being on such a high after that match. So had he.

But after Evan died, and through the ensuing months, Adam had pulled away.

At first you hadn't really noticed, too involved in your grief, and trying to simply exist day to day. He had attended the funeral, having been a friend of Evan's in the way all in the wrestling family had been. Evan had been at numerous shows over the years, and had been a part of many post-show beer outings, conversing with Adam on his own. It made sense then that Adam had sent you a couple texts, checking on you, though they tapered off quickly.

When you returned to the locker room a few months after the fact, while others had given you generic condolences or more personalized comments, Adam was just…there. He stood to the side while you were swept up in to separate hugs by each of the Young Bucks, each gently squeezing you to tell you they were happy to see you. Adam had just given you a brief smile, a quiet "good to see you", before walking off.

He stayed distant after that. You worried that maybe you were giving off negative vibes. You had been hyper aware that coming back would be awkward for all involved. There was no handbook on how to handle the death of a friend or a coworker's significant other, especially for wrestlers. You had played the "momma bear" role so well for so many years, and now you were the one in need of "mothering", so to speak. No one had wanted to burden you with their issues knowing what yours were.

So you had taken all of the advice Jay had given you, about moving forward no matter how much it hurt, and trying to find the good in each day, to heart. You thought you were showing everyone you were going to be OK, and they didn't need to tread on eggshells around you. You tried to remember to smile, to let yourself laugh. You were also learning to allow yourself to be the one who did need the mothering, and letting your emotions out to those you trusted most. You thought you were showing that you were getting on with life, in a good way.

Adam continued to be around but aloof though, so maybe you were wrong?

Except, it became clear the more shows you were back at that, you weren't wrong. You were actually doing OK. As time passed, you were faking your inner-peace and strength less and less. You were genuinely beginning to move forward, allowing Evan's death to be a part of you but not a controlling entity. Your laughter was real, and loud as ever. The locker room settled back in to a routine; jokes were shared, plans were made, and the unit seemed cohesive again. Life seemed to be settling back down in to some semblance of contentment.

So then why did Adam continue to keep you at arm's length? It confused you, definitely. But it also irritated the hell out of you. Because he was no longer just quietly away from you, he had progressed to downright blatantly avoiding you.

More than once you had come in to a room, joined a group and conversation he was a part of, only for him to find an excuse to leave within minutes. He wasn't even subtle about it. Adam was always a cocky bastard, sure, but he had never been so outwardly rude to you before. When he saw you in the hallways, he'd give you a blank stare, and often times change direction. The more this went on, the more it hurt. He no longer seemed just unsure what to say; he seemed like he didn't want to talk to you at all. Like you had angered him, or hurt him, in some way.

You had become so fed up after one particular instance, where Adam had practically sneered at you asking Jay Lethal a question in front of him, that you had confronted one of his best friends Matt Jackson on the matter. Your gut wanted to confront Adam, but given his behavior, you figured you would get a blank stare and no answer. So his closest friend seemed a better route.

"You gotta ask him, girlie. I don't even know," was Matt's response however, giving you a look that could have been sympathetic or annoyed, you weren't sure, before walking off.

So after five months of being back, nine since Evan's death, you had hit your breaking point. It wasn't as though Adam and you had a huge falling out, or your friendship had just naturally, slowly come to a halt. He was still just as present, still just as involved with the same people you were, but only not involved with you, by his own obvious choice. You had no idea what you'd done to cause his behaviors, and it bothered you. You were not someone who liked actions without explanations.

It was after a match with Taeler, where the girl, try as she could, had botched multiple moves and genuinely risked your own well-being, that you finally exploded. You were in a corner of the arena, sitting on a table, holding an ice pack to the back of your neck, hating that you were on the verge of tears, when you saw him walking by. He was in jeans, a black pullover hoodie snug on his body, his hair tied in a low bun at the back of his neck.

If anyone asked you why you did it, you wouldn't be able to give them a straight answer, but you removed the ice pack from your neck and with surprisingly good aim, hurled it at him, hitting him square in the lower back. Your anger had apparently put some speed on the projectile, because he visibly jolted at the impact, reaching around to put his hand where the object hit him to soothe the spot. Adam spun on his heels, looking around confused and quickly, trying to figure out what had hit him, how and why.

"What the hell?! …Brenna?" He looked confused, and angry, and also flinched slightly in pain when he took a step closer to you. You got some type of satisfaction from that.

"Fuck you, Adam Cole," you declared angrily, sliding off the table you had been sitting on, advancing towards him. He appeared caught-off guard, not necessarily threatened by your approaching frame, but worried all the same.

"What the hell? What did you just throw at me? WHY did you fucking throw something at me?!"

"Because you're a dick," you declared. "I have done NOTHING to you, and you treat me like shit. And I'm tired of it! If you hate me, or whatever, fine, be that way. But at least fucking tell me what I did before brushing me away like I'm nothing. We were friends at one point, I thought."

"What the FUCK are you going on about?" He retorted, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Did Taeler hit you a little too hard?"

"Don't act ignorant," you demanded. "Ever since I've been back, you've wanted nothing to do with me. I come in a room, you find a reason to leave. You basically refuse to talk to me, let alone be around me. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" You squeezed your hands in fists at your sides, trying to keep the anger flowing, and the tears not. "Just fucking tell me why. Why can't you even look at me anymore?"

"I'm looking at you right now, darlin'. And all I can see is you've lost your damn mind," Adam stated, his tone dismissive, the cocky bastard side of him clearly now in control.

"FUCK. YOU," you snarled, your voice echoing off the concrete walls.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, girlie," Jay Briscoe seemingly swooped in from nowhere, putting a hand on your arm, placing himself to your side but in front of you a bit, a barrier between you and Adam. "What's going on here?" He asked, looking at Adam, and not you.

"Your girl, is crazy," Adam declared, his eyes still right with yours, but addressing Jay's question. You could see the anger in Adam's eyes, along with the tension in his clenched jaw.

"Have I said fuck you, yet?" You asked sarcastically, restraining yourself from also giving him the finger or, childishly, sticking out your tongue.

"Hey, if you want a hate fuck, all you need to do is ask," he retorted, the arrogance in his tone overwhelming.

And that was enough. Your rage boiled over, and before anyone, including yourself really knew better, your hand connected with Adam's face, your knuckles making impact right on his cheek. His head flew to the side, as you followed through in your swing. Your arm dropped down after the punch, and you stared at him, as he remained turned to the side, his eyes closed.

"BRENNA!" Jay exclaimed, grabbing you fully by the shoulders and shoving you back behind him now entirely. "What the hell kid!"

You didn't have a response. You felt like you were watching someone else's life through your eyes, as you looked around Jay's side. You just stared at Adam, as he slowly seemed to come back to reality as well, both of you letting what had just happened sink in. He stood up straight again, reaching a hand up to press gingerly against his jaw, which he moved ever so slightly, assessing the damage. When his eyes opened, the blue in them was practically electric, and he quickly laid them on you.

The stare down between the two of your was tense, to say the least. Adam looked entirely pissed off, but he also seemed…something. Something that your two incidences of physical violence, and verbal lashing, had clearly made worse. And you were seething, hurt, confused.

"You want to know why I've avoided you?" Adam finally spoke, his tone so cold, so quiet, so controlled, it sent a chill into your heart. "This is why."

After pausing for one second longer, he turned, and walked away from you, not once looking back. You were confused more than ever. And then you began to feel the pain in your knuckles.