So given all the teasing we're getting at the moment, I really wanted to write a Shield get back together thing. However, if the real Shield do get back together (crosses several fingers and toes) then this is going to become pretty pointless, so voilà! I decided to make it an AU.

For no apparent reason (other than that they're brilliant) all chapter titles are songs by The Kinks.

Hope you enjoy! Please leave feedback. I'd be really grateful if you did.

Death Of A Clown

Stephanie's office was near the top of the building with uninterrupted views of the city. From it she could see every drug dealing corner and each plume of smoke from the day's burnt out cars. It suited her – the office – Dean thought vaguely, as he easily bypassed his boss' assistant and opened the door without breaking his stride.

Stephanie's assistant – Myrna he thought her name was, although he wasn't really sure because she was far too old to hit on and as a result it had never seemed worth bothering to learn – fumbled in alarm with the phone clamped to her earlobe and stretched to hit the intercom with her spare hand,

"Ma'am, Dean Ambrose is – ,"

She was marginally too late. Dean was inside before the message was over and grinning with a look that made his long-suffering boss sigh.

"Ambrose."

He nodded back at her formally, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Commissioner McMahon."

It wasn't exactly a new thing for either of them. In fact, over the years, it had kind of become their thing. Dean liked to think that one day he might waltz in there and Stephanie would be doing something career-endingly embarrassing. Like getting changed or – he'd thought about this – possibly having sex. It wasn't that he wanted the leverage over her. He wasn't angling to add a bump to his pay. He simply wanted to able to tease her. Although maybe a picture or two wouldn't hurt.

Stephanie raised a brow at him sardonically,

"Do you have to give my assistant a coronary every time you come in here?"

"Don't have to," he shrugged at her, "It's just kinda fun. Gotta take your laughs where you can get 'em around here. Never know which one will be your last, y'know?"

Apparently that was something that Stephanie did not know and as she folded her arms across her chest apathetically, Dean's grin broadened. He knew she loved him really. Or on second thoughts, maybe she didn't but the repartee between them was too well established and was never delivered to seriously harm. Besides which, no matter how heated the tensions got between them, there were very few people whom the other respected more.

Except maybe the Mayor of Suplex City –

Who Dean suddenly realised was standing in the room.

His grin dropped instantly and Stephanie's in turn widened as he took in the figure silhouetted by the blinds. Vince McMahon was standing by the windows, with his back to them and dressed completely in grey twill. It was the suit he wore when he was making press statements and Dean knew it meant business without even a word.

Crap.

Smirking – because she would – Stephanie gestured towards her desk, which had been set up with three chairs in a half-circle around it.

"Take a seat Ambrose."

Typically Dean preferred to stand. She knew it too, but had left him little option and so he grudgingly eased himself onto the leather and slouched down to worry at his thumbnail like a child. Vince still hadn't turned around – or acknowledged him for that matter – and the silence wasn't comforting. On the plus side however, Stephanie was still smirking, which Dean considered a reassuring sign. After all, if she was going to shout at him then no way would she be grinning. Or at least, she never had and she'd shouted at him plenty. Too many times to count. Besides, why would her old man have come along to watch that? He wouldn't have.

Something else was going on.

What?

Almost as if suddenly realising he was there with them, Vince turned abruptly and offered him a nod.

"Ambrose."

"Sir," Dean replied respectfully, "Been on the course lately? How's the handicap?"

It was a question he knew instinctively to offer but had never understood since the day he first asked. For Dean a golf club was best used as a weapon and no way in hell was it an actual sport. Whether Vince was aware of that however or just chose to ignore it, Dean had never really been sure and his confusion doubled as the Mayor grinned proudly and puffed out his chest,

"Pretty good, it's a twelve."

"Twelve huh? Wow that's – uh – I mean, that's great."

Across from him, Stephanie sat down in her desk chair and snorted kinda loudly. She knew he was full of crap. Fortunately he was spared her actually saying that by a voice across the intercom.

"Ma'am?"

Dean got there first,

"Go ahead,"

"Ambrose," Stephanie growled darkly, "What do you think you're – ,"

Dean waved her off, glancing up from the microphone and frowning like she'd interrupted his conversational flow,

"What? I'm tryn'a talk to Myrna here."

"Her name is Valerie."

Wow.

Not even close.

There was a slight pause as Valerie – hell, Dean preferred Myrna – obviously tried to decide what to do. She was a small little thing, all grey hair and glasses and his bullish personality had a tendency to leave her stumped. Eventually however, she continued regardless and Dean grinned a little,

You go girl.

"Your twelve o'clock appointments are here. Both parties. Would you like them to wait outside?"

"Nah, send 'em in."

"Ambrose – ,"

With a solid little click and smile he released the button before sitting back against the leather and making a steeple of his fingers. The joke had left him ridiculously proud but the smugness faded as Vince moved in a step and Stephanie suddenly leant purposefully across the desk. Her expression was more serious than he'd seen it in years.

Or just a little over a year, around the time that –

No.

Dean stopped himself abruptly. No way in hell could he think about that now.

"Listen Ambrose," Stephanie hissed warningly and it jolted him sharply back from the brink, "I need you to stay cool. Whatever happens, I am ordering you not to lose control, is that clear?"

Dean frowned in reply. Who the hell did she have out there? It actually freaked him out just a little and although he always liked to play things cool, not even he could stop from turning around bodily as the door clicked open.

Two men walked in.

One of them was tall and thick-set like tank with a tribal tattoo trailing straight down his forearm. The other one had wavy black hair pulled back tight and a neatly trimmed goatee and –

"Oh hell no."

"Ambrose sit down," Stephanie issued sharply.

Not that Dean had realised he'd even jumped up. He hadn't taken notice of a whole lot of anything except for the pulsating waves of pure shock.

Standing in front of him were his former friends – brothers.

Standing in front of him were Roman and Seth.

Seeing Roman was pretty fucking jarring and he would have been easily bad enough on his own. But Seth as well? Seth fucking Rollins. Wasn't the scumbag supposed to be in jail? As the anger grew, Dean's fists clenched on instinct and his eyes never left the two men as he growled,

"What the fuck is this? Why are they here?"

"Ambrose – ,"

Here together.

Because what was that about? When had they managed to patch things up between them and more importantly why had they left him out? Not that he cared. It wasn't like he was jealous. He was angry. That why his chest felt so tight. It was definitely not because he had realised like a car crash that a part of him had missed them. That wasn't it at all. He was Dean Ambrose, he didn't need anyone and the last twelve months had made that pretty clear.

"Ambrose," Stephanie tried again sharply, "Sit down."

Dean glared back,

"You know what? I'll stand in case there are any more surprises. Who's next? The fourth grade teacher who told me I was dumb or did you track down that old boyfriend of my mom's who used to beat the shit out of me? That'd be fun, huh? Then we could really call this a party."

"Alright Ambrose, that's enough."

Only it wasn't enough – hell, not even close to it – and both of them knew it as they glared across the desk. It seemed strange that in a room which contained his mortal enemy and his former best friend that he was glowering at his boss. But then she was the one who had dragged his ass in there and then sprung the whole reunion, so that was what she got. As the tension continued to ramp up however – casting a lengthening shadow across the room – Vince stepped forward and cleared his throat briskly, before offering out a business-like hand.

"Gentlemen, thank you for coming."

"No problem."

It was Roman who answered and at the sound of his rumble, Dean's heart began to ache. He'd known that voice – he'd known it almost better than anything and yet it had been such a long time since he'd heard it.

A fucking long time.

Like, too fucking long.

In the silence, Vince moved in to stand behind his daughter, at the same time motioning towards the spare chairs. Side by side the family likeness was startling – not that Dean thought Stephanie would want to hear. What woman liked being told they looked like their father? Although frankly that was the least she deserved.

Maybe he would sit on that one until her birthday and then write it across the middle of her card.

By the way, you like your seventy-something father.

Yeah, take that.

He didn't care she was the boss.

"Gentlemen, please," Vince continued, "Take a seat. I think we've got quite a lot to discuss."

Dean snorted loudly, ignoring the glances.

A lot to discuss?

Huh.

Wasn't that the truth? He was actually curious to know where Vince planned on starting. Seth betraying them – no, stabbing them in the back – or Roman leaving at the exact same moment that Dean's world broke like shattering glass? Either one made for a hell of an opening so he guessed it didn't matter providing he covered them both.

As Seth and Roman did as instructed and quietly moved towards the chairs, Dean headed purposefully off towards the window, fighting the urge to simply walk out of the room. His head was in tailspin and his poor heart was pounding with so much force that it actually hurt. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't process what was happening and he hated the way that made him feel.

He didn't need them, he didn't miss them.

Only as it turned out, he really fucking did.

For their part, Seth and Roman gazed back at him quietly and it helped – a little – that each man looked ashamed. At one point or another they had both screwed him over and although the wounds were different, they still ran pretty deep.

In the end it was down to Stephanie to start proceedings, which she did as if nothing was wildly amiss. Clearly it was not just looks that were inherited since both father and daughter ran fantastic lines in what could only be called gross understatement as well.

"So I'm sure you're all wondering exactly why you're here?"

Dean laughed again but the others remained quiet.

He could remember when they all would have smirked at that one. He and Seth might have mouthed something stupid. Roman might have smiled and surreptitiously caught their eye. He didn't miss that and nor was it the reason – it definitely wasn't – that he only half-listened to Vince, who had suddenly decided to put them out of their misery and fill them in on what was going on.

Well, sort of.

He actually began with a story.

"When I became the Mayor of Suplex City, the crime rates here were the worst in the country. You boys were still in uniform back then. I'm sure you can remember?"

Dean glared. Remember? He'd grown up in the city's second roughest neighbourhood. Shit like that was pretty hard to forget.

"We remember," Seth answered for them and his voice made Dean want to punch his stupid head. The fact that he resisted was oddly satisfying and he suddenly wanted to share that with Steph. He figured she would be pretty proud of him. In fact, she would have probably considered it personal growth.

"But through hard work and the establishment of a professional task force," Vince continued blithely, "We managed to turn that tide and Suplex City became – not only a success story – but a nationwide model for how to get things done right. You men were a valuable part of that process."

We couldn't have done it without the work of The Shield.

He didn't exactly say but then he didn't exactly have to and Dean's eyes narrowed as he realised more was on the way. It was nearly three years since The Shield had been abandoned – no, scratch that, fucking broken up – and in all of that time it hadn't been mentioned. Now there they were dancing around it again.

Why?

"We did what we had to do," Roman offered plainly, "We're glad it worked out."

Dean frowned a little. We? Since when did Roman get to be group spokesperson? Since when were the three of them even a group? He might have once had the right to speak for him, but those days were long gone and they weren't coming back.

"It was working out."

Vince's sudden sentence abruptly threw all of them and even managed to slap the taste from Dean's mouth. Over the months he had heard a few rumblings – rumours that crime was back on the up but given that he had never been one for statistics, he hadn't honestly given them much stock. Now there he was with the Commissioner and the Mayor having it confirmed to him.

Dean blinked back,

"Why?"

The answer for that part came directly from Stephanie and although she looked his way, she encompassed them all.

"Confidence."

That was not what Dean had been expecting and his face crumpled on instinct as he frowned at her,

"Huh?"

"Statistics show the criminal element growing bolder. With the task force dismantled they're no longer running scared. As a result we're seeing criminal operations getting bigger and their reach and resources starting to spread. We worked too hard to stamp that out last time and so before it takes hold again, we need it to stop – one gang at a time if we have to."

"How?" Dean asked sharply, "I mean, you said it yourself. The task force is disbanded remember?"

Although frankly dead and buried would have been a far more accurate term. He already knew the rest of the sentence – he could feel it coming – but it still hit him like a blow and even with Stephanie's vague attempts to soften it, nothing much helped.

"We're reinstating you all."

For a second there was silence – no one said anything which in Dean's case was only because he couldn't form words. Were they serious? Were the pair of them actually serious? Vince's next sentence made it clear that they were.

"Now, I know what you're thinking and it's probably a shock but there is no denying the results you boys got and that's what we need right now – results."

"Basically gentlemen," Stephanie continued,"What we want is to resurrect The Shield."

Dean shook his head at her.

No.

He wouldn't do it.

He didn't have –

He didn't know –

Fuck, just no.

But that didn't mean that he didn't feel angry when Roman voiced what was essentially the same exact thing. The big man sounded doubtful about them working together and Dean couldn't help but take that as a slight.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, the three of us? Together? We ain't exactly a team anymore."

They weren't exactly friends for that matter either and Stephanie nodded and her face kind of softened as if she had been patiently waiting for that question all along.

"You've never let us down before."

"Maybe not but we've let down each other – or maybe I should say some of us have."

Dean's appraisal had sailed out on base instinct and was rewarded by the gaze of four sets of eyes. They lingered on him for several seconds and then two of them dropped down in embarrassment.

Good.

Stephanie on the other hand was wearing a frown that was fierce enough to curdle fucking dairy and as she forged on, her tone became icy which she levelled at her detective.

So much for growth.

"Be that as it may, what we need is The Shield back and we need it as soon as possible. Everything's in place. Now I know you three have a difficult history, but you'll have to get past it. This is your job."

Dean's explosion caught everyone off-guard but at the same didn't surprise them at all. Throughout the speech his shoulders had been twitching and in the end it hadn't been if but more when.

It was a mistake that Stephanie should have known better than to make with him. After all, she had been dealing with Ambrose for seven years. On top of that he'd had a difficult time lately and it had made him – more than ever – not prepared to take much shit. Added to the fact that she'd brought in his brothers and it was frankly little wonder that he'd finally blown up.

All she could hope was that the explosion was cathartic.

Which from the outset appeared to be a no.

"Difficult history? Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? Rollins over there left me for dead. Am I the only one who remembers that or somethin'? I mean, forgive me if I'm wrong or whatever but I thought crooked cops couldn't re-join the force. But since you're offerin' him what sounds like a job here maybe I've got it wrong. What? You gonna give him a medal too?"

He already knew the answer to his question and so Stephanie didn't bother to reply. For all its successes their three-man task force – known to those in the room as The Shield – had never been an officially sanctioned body. For much of their tenure they had worked outside the law. At the time it had been a necessary evil designed to fight criminal fire with fire but it had also meant offering plausible deniability. To the outside world, Vince and Steph were not involved.

Being disassociated from the police force however, meant that the job came pretty much without rules. In other words having a criminal on the task force was by no means an issue,

Stephanie heaved a sigh,

"Listen, Ambrose – ,"

But listening had never really been Dean's style, besides which he was far too angry to take orders and especially – especially – not from her.

"Shouldn't he still be in jail or whatever?"

"Actually no," Seth put in suddenly and the sound of his voice made everyone stop, "I've been out for six months now and maybe that's not good enough but I served my time. What else can I do?"

It seemed like he was really asking and there was an honesty there that made Dean baulk. He was Seth but at the same time he wasn't quite Seth. Not the fiery pumped up screamer or the devious turn-coat he had suddenly become. This Seth seemed to be a third fucking version and Dean couldn't cope with it.

He shook his head,

"Leave. I mean, what are you even doin' here anyway? You don't have any family here. You don't have friends. What's left for you, man? Why are you still – like – clinging on to this? Kinda desperate don't you think?"

"Ambrose – ," Stephanie put in forcefully, "That's enough."

For once Dean agreed with her.

Damn right it is.

For the past few years he had done nothing but get stepped on and he wasn't about to let that happen again. Screw the McMahon family. Screw the fucking task force. He was taking his life back.

Baby, this one's for you.

"Y'know what boss? You're right. It is too much, so here's what I think about your plan. I quit."

There was a startled pause as everyone simply stared at him, clearly trying to figure out if he was serious or not. To show them he was, he unclipped his holster and marched across to drop it down onto the desk. His badge was a little bit harder to take off – the damn thing managed to get caught on his belt – but once he was free, he slammed it down forcefully and backed up to glare at them.

Yeah, he was done.

He was vaguely aware of the expressions as he was doing it, registering looks that ranged from outrage to alarm. Vince looked almost angry – he wasn't expecting that – while Stephanie looked totally and utterly stunned. She clearly couldn't believe he was doing it, which made two of them honestly, because neither could he.

Maybe he was crazy.

He was – they all knew that. But quitting? What the fuck had he done? He was still debating pretending he was messing, when Roman spoke up again,

"Dean, come on – don't."

Rather than appealing to his better nature however, it actually fuelled Dean with added resolve. He didn't need them. He didn't need anyone and he was pretty damn certain they didn't need him. Steeling his gaze he stalked towards the threshold, stopping only to affect a deeply mocking salute.

"Good luck with this whole savin' the city deal. Oh and Vinny? I never knew what a handicap was."

Then Dean threw himself with a bang through the doorway and startled Myrna one last time.

Sooo *looks around the room uncertainly* what did you think? Give it to me straight.

Next chapter in a week and in case you're wondering if this is one of those ones the writer gives up on, then no, the whole thing is written barring the last two chapters so it's just a matter of posting it up.

I'll see you then!