Disclaimer: My one share of WWE stock entitles me to very little besides a random Spanish announce table…in pieces.

Invisible Sun

April 2, 2012

Monday Night Raw

Punk woke up to the incessant beeping of his phone. He opened his eyes to find John sprawled over his chest typing away at they keys.

"What are you doing with my phone?"

"Sending out our engagement announcement. The general consensus is that I must be crazy to take you on for a lifetime and everyone was dying for me to let you know that they told you so. I've sent out this email blast to all our friends so you can't decide this was a bad idea and give your engagement string back. You're stuck with me."

"After everything it took to get us here I'm not letting you go anywhere."

"As if I would."

John and Punk walked into the arena hand in hand, both men smiling broadly. It looked like John's email blast from that morning had expanded beyond the intended recipients. They entered the locker room and were both passed around from person to person for congratulatory hugs, the amount of which probably long passed Punk's quota of daily allowable hugs. Once John left the joviality of the locker room and their friends he felt the full effect of what had happened last night with both the engagement and Lesnar when every time he turned a corner some furtive conversation would come to an abrupt halt.

When Punk joined him in the monitor bay they were faced with the other side of the reaction to their engagement. Some people were watching them with odd expressions on their faces while others were outright sneering. There were also a few jealous faces in the crowd and John was sure it wasn't because he was officially taken off the market. Ziggler seemed to still be carrying a torch for his new fiancé.

John was trying to figure out where to bury Ziggler's mangled body when a road agent approached him and said he had been summoned to Laurinaitis' office. John walked into the office and took a seat, waiting for the absent Laurinaitis. John had no idea why he had been called into the new permanent GM's office. It was fifteen minutes before Laurinaitis showed up.

"John we have a problem."

"What's that?"

"After your losing effort against the Rock last night your worth to this company has been greatly diminished."

"What?" John asked, shocked by the words that were coming out of Laurinaitis' mouth. "That may be your opinion but I'm sure the McMahon's and the Board of Directors think otherwise."

"I am the permanent GM of both Raw and Smackdown, the only authority I recognize is my own and I believe that you are a poor representation of the current roster of the WWE."

"You can't just fire me."

"You're correct. I cannot fire you out of hand but you will be on probation until Extreme Rules and after that I will conduct an evaluation of your performance. My decision after the evaluation will be final. Considering your recent performance I cannot say that my decision is likely to change."

"Show me the door and you know what you'll get? A new face of the WWE and guess who that will be…CM Punk...and you know how much he loves you."

"I wouldn't count on your precious fiancé running to your defense anytime soon. Punk has problems of his own that he will need to deal with."

"What are you talking about?" John said, suddenly more worried about Punk than he was about his standing in the WWE.

"Why don't you step outside this office and see what kind of shape your beloved is in. You're dismissed."

John flew out the door and ran to the monitor bay. Every person that he and Punk considered friends were missing. Everyone in attendance turned to look at him. There was a mix of emotions on the faces of his co-workers. Some seemed smug while others looked at him fearfully. There were a few faces that showed actual distress but he would rather find Punk on his own than ask anything of Ziggler. He turned to rush to the gorilla position but ran smack into Jericho who had a victorious look on his face and smelled like a distillery.

"Looking for your sweetheart? You'll probably find him in the trainer's room. Coughing up blood is never a good sign."

"What the fuck did you do to him?" John yelled, slamming Jericho against the wall.

"We just had a post match drink is all. It's not my fault he can't handle his liquor," Jericho responded with a sickening laugh.

John let Jericho go, he could deal with him later but finding Punk was more important than squeezing Jericho's throat until he turned blue. He ran to the gorilla position and was greeted with the worried faces of the backstage techs.

"Where is Punk!"

"They're all down the hall, to your left."

John raced down the hallway and came upon a scene of complete pandemonium. Truth and Kofi were trying to kick a door down while Hunter and Stephanie looked on.

"Where the fuck have you been Cena!" Hunter yelled angrily at John.

"Laurinaitis called me into his office."

"It's unlikely that was a coincidence," Stephanie said.

"What the fuck happened!"

"Henry threw Punk out of the ring and Punk got counted out. Henry was angry that the title didn't change hands and gave Punk a World's Strongest Slam on the arena floor. Then Otunga and Laurinaitis came out and said Punk would be defending his title on a consistent basis. He made some vague threats and then Jericho came out of the audience with a mic talking about how he was going to drive Punk to drink and insulted his family again. For some reason there were bottles of Jack Daniels at ringside, no doubt who arranged that for Jericho, and he poured the bottle all over Punk. He kicked Punk in the head, got another bottle and smashed it over Punk's head. His hands were twitching but he wasn't moving beyond that. Laurinaitis just stood at the top of the ramp and watched the whole thing. The ringside doc and some officials came out to help him. When they got to the gorilla position Punk took off and locked himself in here. We sent the officials to look for the key but they aren't back yet," Hunter said, filling John in on the situation they found themselves in.

"Stand back," and Truth and Kofi stepped back and John tried to force he door open with his shoulder but the door was metal and wouldn't give. "Phil! Phil, its John. Unlock the door and let me in!" There was no movement and John began to pound frantically on the door and kept yelling Punk's name.

Finally an official showed up with the key and opened the door. John was the first in and ran to the shower where he could hear the water running. He took one look at Punk and ran back into the main part of the locker room.

"He's okay. We need a minute, please," John begged and the crowd left the room and John locked the door behind him, rushing back to the shower where Punk was hunched over on his hands and knees under the blazing hot spray of the shower. Punk was sobbing and retching continuously. John could see blood circling the drain. John turned down the temperature of the water and pulled Punk into his lap, rocking him gently. The retching stopped but Punk continued to sob, shaking uncontrollably in John's arms.

"Phil, love, I'm here, it's okay, I'm here," wetness forming in his eyes at Punk's extreme distress and the sound of his heartrending sobs.

"He poured alcohol all over me, it got in my mouth. I keep trying to throw it up but I can't get the taste out of my mouth. John, please, help me, please."

John pulled his hand back from Punk's head and it came back bloody. Punk needed to see the trainer's or better yet go to the hospital but John knew Punk wouldn't leave this room in the state that he was in for everyone to see him at his weakest. John set Punk down and walked to the door, unlocking it and sticking his head out.

"Can one of you get his bag for me?"

"I'll do it," and Truth ran off towards the locker room, the rest of the assembled group gaping worriedly at John's soaking wet clothes and the blood stains on his shoulder.

"John, if he's hurt he needs to be taken care of immediately," Stephanie said, staring at the stain on John's shoulder.

"Just give us a few minutes okay? Can't you understand…"

"John, I get it but if you aren't out here in 15 minutes I'm coming in there," Hunter said, his tone relaying his seriousness of his statement.

John returned to Punk who was slumped against the wall and there were trails of blood running down his shoulder and out the corner of his mouth.

"Phil, we need to get you to the hospital."

"No hospital!"

"You're coughing up blood, you could have internal injuries."

"When Jericho kicked me in the head I bit down on my cheek."

"Open up, let me see."

Punk opened his mouth and John peered in, seeing the ragged inside of Punk's cheek.

"You're right, no hospital, but we have to get you to the trainer's room."

There was a knock on the door and John opened it, Truth handing John Punk's bag. John dug though Punk's things and found his shower gel and his mouthwash. John watched as Punk went through the entire bottle of mouthwash, wincing as the liquid burned his injured cheek.

"The taste is gone but I smell…"

"Let me help you."

Punk stood up on unsteady legs and John stripped him of his clothes and tossed them in the corner. He washed Punk's body clean until he could no longer smell the stench of alcohol. John dried him off and helped him into his street clothes, giving him a towel to hold against the laceration in his scalp. He put one of Punk's arms over his shoulder and they walked into the hallway but Punk's legs were still unsteady and Kofi stepped forward and slung his arm around Punk's waist.

"Truth, can you get Punk's bag. His gear…"

"Throw the gear away, I don't want it."

Truth nodded understandingly and entered the locker room to get Punk's things.

"Kofi, help me get him to the trainer's room."

They walked awkwardly to the trainer's room to find them already waiting for Punk. They laid him down on his stomach to work on the cut on his head and not to create further pain to the livid bruising that was starting to develop on his back. Kofi reluctantly left after a road agent called him to the arena entrance for his match also knowing Punk wouldn't want him to hover.

They gave him some gauze to put in his mouth that stopped the bleeding and started to staple the wound on his head shut. John sat next to Punk, squeezing his hand but he was seething on the inside. Jericho was going to regret doing what he did to Punk, he guaranteed it.

The door to the room opened and Otunga stepped in. "Mr. Laurinaitis wanted me to remind you that you're expected in the ring after the current match ends."

"There's no way in hell I'm leaving him."

"Mr. Laurinaitis said to remind you of the conversation you had in his office."

"That fucking…"

"John, go to the ring," Punk mumbled around the gauze.

"No fucking way am I leaving you!"

"John, you have to go out there. There are things that need to be said and if you let the Rock walk out of the arena tonight without saying them you're going to regret it."

"I don't care."

"Well, I do!"

"Is he alright?" Stephanie said, walking into the trainer's room.

"They're patching me up. Can you get John to go to the ring?"

"I'm not leaving…"

"I'll stay with him. That's okay isn't it Punk?"

"See, Stephanie will be here and she'll fire anyone unwelcome that comes through the door, or she'll sic Hunter on them, whatever…"

"Fine. I'll be right back," and John reluctantly left the room. He made his way to the arena entrance just as Kofi came through the curtain.

"Is he okay?"

"He's getting fixed up right now. Can you do me a favor and go to the trainer's room and sit with him until I come back. I left him with Stephanie and she's not exactly…"

"Florence Nightingale the Billion Dollar Princess is not."

"Thanks Kofi."

John had his music cued up and entered the arena to a chorus of boos but the audience's reaction didn't have the least effect on him in his current mindset. He grabbed a mic and was determined to get this finished as soon as possible. Hopefully the Rock had talked his fill when he had been in the ring earlier in the night. He tried to slip into his John Cena persona but it was impossible, he was so worried about Punk. Hopefully the crowd just interpreted it as embarrassment at losing the match to the Rock the night before even though John couldn't give a fuck about what had happened the night before right now. He just stared unseeing into the jeering crowd for a few moments. For once he couldn't think of a damn thing to say.

He managed to force the words out, admitting that he never thought in the year building up to WrestleMania that he could lose. He denied wanting to lash out at the fans for their treatment of him and in this moment he couldn't care less what they thought of him. He congratulated the Rock on his win and invited the Rock to the ring so that he could tell him so in person. John waited and waited and that's when the familiar music cued up. Was the whole fucking world against him? Brock fucking Lesnar? The crowd went insane as Lesnar made his way to the ring. John just mindlessly stuck his hand out for Lesnar to shake, not caring to do anything beyond that. Lesnar obviously had other ideas when he found himself draped over Lesnar's shoulder and the victim of an F-5. He laid on the mat, pain radiating up his back, wondering how a day that started so perfectly had gone so wrong.

AN: This would have been out a lot sooner had I not lost the jump drive all my writing is saved on. I found it eventually. Why it was in the kitchen I don't know. Hope you enjoy.