"You have no idea."

He beamed. For the first time in months, he didn’t feel like a disgusting human being for all he’d put his family through. Taking her by the hand, he led her up the steps, perfectly content with what was about to occur.

~-~-~-~

X-Mas Xtreme.

Three challengers coming for my title.

Actually... three losers that's gonna get hurt and end up with their dreams dashed.

MC Terrible...

You got touched by an angel last time. Your tag team partner bailed you out.

This time though, there is no bail. I am the judge, jury, and the executioner. And your death sentence will take place at X-Mas Xtreme.

But get it twisted, it's nothing personal. I actually respect what you can do in that ring. The problem I have with you, is what you represent in this company. You represent everything that's wrong with it. You represent the old guard of this place, that Jonathyn just let die. No matter how good that new blood is, he always wants to run back to the hasbeens that helped built this place, but can't do shit now. Guys like you, Bigg Rigg, and Steve Jason.

I am the leader of the new blood. And I have made it my mission to make sure that the old guard doesn't rise up again.

Then there's Heather Halliwell.

Some gothic chick whose worked their way up the ranks on Massacre to gain their shot at the big time. I guess Massacre is truly lacking in talent. That's why Jonathyn has a battle royal at every other PPV, to try to get the hasbeens back into the fold. He's tired of watching Daniel Malcolm fail every month.

Well get used to it boss. And get used to seeing me with your World title, cause I can tell you know, ain't no shemale looking bitch gonna take my title. Believe that.

~-~-~-~

House Without a Key Restaurant
10:42 AM

The House Without a Key presented every guest that walked through its doors with the most splendorous views of the Pacific Ocean and beyond. Long-time patrons of the eye-catching eatery would be pressed to tell you the sunsets far away from the hand of man were downright gorgeous; the only way to view a sunset. It was still early morning, but the backdrop was still incredible for the time of day. The sun only had a few hours to arise from the other side of the world, but nary a cloud in the sky gave the ocean a beautiful sun-kissed glow.

Pockets of tourists peppered the outside dining area with their own appearance. Some chatterboxes could be heard applauding the ambience, others more concerned with what exactly would be on their respective plates. At his own table, Shawn couldn’t help but take his eyes off the restaurant’s fabled and well-preserved Kiawe Tree and the seagulls perched atop the branches.

Donning sunglasses and a Seahawks cap to avoid acknowledgment from any internet wrestling nerds/dorks/fans, Shawn partook in a simple downing of piping-hot coffee as he awaited the emergence of his (soon-to-be-ex) wife, Eme Ke’ala.

He took one last look around at his surroundings and actually felt a little at peace. This used to be their favorite hangout way back in the Dark Ages of the Honeymoon Stage. If he wasn’t about to discuss the dreaded D-word with Eme, he would’ve loved to venture here more. Being on the road a lot presented wrestlers with the gift of sight that people wouldn’t get in their lifetimes. They’d never be able to involve themselves in places like this without a lot of financial aid nagging distractions bogging them down.

"You STILL have that stupid cap?"

Speaking of nagging...

Shawn craned his head up to see the visage of Eme Ke'ala-Danielson. Her bronze skin, her luscious brown eyes, that lengthy raven hair that appealed to him in the first place. She was also decked out to the nine in that oh-so -hot business suit he liked to tear off when she got home from work. That evil bitch.

"Hey."

That was all Shawn could muster as Eme pulled up a chair across from him and seated herself. Tending to a cup of her own java, she lets her bag fall onto the table.

"Hey, yourself," she offers back. "You know, it’s been awhile since we’ve been here."

"Yeah. I do believe the last time was… the 12th of Still Happy Together."

A sad, awkward laugh educed from his mouth.

"How’ve you been?"

Stirring some Equal into her coffee, Eme raises her eyebrows, throwing out the token response all couples share when a situation is uneasy.

"Fine. You?"

"Life’s been uh… good. I am now the figurehead of the XWF after an arduous chase. Uh… well… ever seen those Girls Gone Wild videos where people have chronic parties, drunken debauchery, and pants-free escapades?"

"…Yeah? You spent time doing those or time watching them."

"Little of both, I suppose. Minus the aforementioned… well, everything."

History was recorded at that table in Hawaii as the two managed to share something resembling a moment that didn’t involve cries of disregard on the part of the husband or droning of the missus. But the time for uncomfortable banter was over. They both knew what this meeting was about.

"Well?" Shawn jabs with a heavy sigh.

"Let’s… just get this over with."

After she pursed her lips thoughtfully, she reached into her bag and procured a black folder. Letting it fall onto the table with a thud, Eme retrieved a pen and the fabled divorce papers that had Shawn shaking.

"You want to do this first or should I?"

Hesitantly, he extended an open palm. "I guess I’ll sign it first."

She slid the documents his way and put the pen in his hand. Gazing at the paper pensively, he thought long and hard about the repercussions that were to come from ending the marriage.

No Eme.

No Gaby.

Nobody to come home to after each and every long voyage on the road.

For some reason, the irksome voice of his own mother cowing him into doing something to save what was left reared itself.

If you really, truly want to fix things with her, it’s going to take a HELL of a lot more than one phone call…

Trying to read her husband’s thoughts, she searched his facial expressions for an answer.

"What are you doing? Sign it, Shawn."

"…I don’t want to end this now."

Shawn turned his head and looked Eme right in the eye. Caught off-guard completely by his actions, he took her by the hand.

"I’ve… I’ve had a lot of time to think about every wrong thing I did in this life. I’ve had a shitty career, an even shittier personal life and it sickens me still today. I’ve done things to get ahead that nobody should every have to stoop to.."

Clenching her hand tighter, Shawn paused for a moment, choosing each word carefully.

"I had this stupid preconceived notion in my head you would always be waiting for me when I finished my climb to the top of the mountain. I was positive everything was going to be simpatico in our world the second I finished. I kicked you and Gaby to the wayside for far too long and I want to fix it. I want to make things right. We can stop this. We can fix this now. You don’t have to go back to Florida and live with some asshole that doesn’t know you the way I do, Eme. I love you and I don’t want this to end. Let’s not do this here. Let’s go back home and talk about this."

Silence from Eme. Staring at her downtrodden reflection in her drink, her expression changes to that of something resembling antagonism. She shakes her head and snorts, perplexing Shawn.

"You… you choose NOW to try and make things right?!"

Trying not to make any more of a scene than they already have, Eme lowers her tone, but fixates on Shawn.

"You think you’re going to make nice AFTER the fact I’ve pleaded with you for months to help out more at home? You scoffed at any previous attempts before to fix things like marriage counseling, therapy, even a little talking! You sit there and try to sway me with some pretty words, but you and I both know how this shit is going to end…"

"I-" He shoots back. "They’re not pretty words, damn it! I’ m…"

"You spend your life pandering and ridiculing thousands, millions of people, Shawn. But they get MORE attention from you than anybody else you know personally. But you know why this marriage is ending? You’re obsessed. You’ve been doing nothing but chasing a dream for half your life. You made yourself a goddamn credo to abstain from sex while you’re on the road, but when you gave into a moment of temptation, you couldn’t be a man and fess up to what you created. You continued to chase your obsession."

He tries to counter, but faster than Eme realizes, the words continue to pour.

"We had a daughter. We had a child, we had a house, and we had a new LIFE. I wouldn’t have had a problem with any of it if you would’ve helped us out instead of worrying about your next fix in your career. You provided the majority of the paycheck, but you didn’t provide any of the things we REALLY needed. A husband. A father. A caring soul. You treated your own family like dirt when you did make yourself available to each of us and your head was stuck in the clouds, studying your next opponent or plotting out some ill-conceived scheme to screw with some innocent person’s head. Basically, anything BUT fulfilling your goddamn duties in this marriage. Where was all this before?"

"Damn it, I’m saying it now!"

"It’s too late. You got what you wanted out of your career. You’re the fucking champion of your promotion at long last. I hope it was worth the marriage."

Punctuating her last statement, she snatched away the papers and put them into her bag. Taking a moment to collect herself, Eme stood up and grabbed her things.

"You’re right, though. This is a bad place to do it, so… I’ll stop by later."

Left nearly speechless, The World Champion of the XWF did nothing else but nod solemnly.

"Just… think about it, Eme. We don’t have to end this. We can still FIX things. Come over tonight and we can at least talk about this further. Please."

"I’ll… I’ll think about it."

"Thank you."

Concluding their emotional episode, Shawn stood up from his seat and threw money on the table next to his receipt. With quick breathing and hanging heads, the two crossed paths on the way out, powerless to exchange another word. Behind them, the sun finally started to rise above the old Kiawe Tree.

~-~-~-~

... "Jason Mudd.

A man once told me that a single straw... could break a mans back.

My gut tells me... that you... are that kind of man. A man that breaks under stricken pressure. A man... who no longer knows which direction, in which to travel."

Stories of hatred and pain have troubled your mind to the point of insanity. Just remember... it was you who wanted this. It was you, who wanted to be the man."

A chuckle breaks the brief silence.

"It's funny watching a bird dive face first into the ground, Jason. But this time... there will be no hand for your to grab. There will be no aid in your troubles. For now you must experience first hand... what it's like to be on the blunt end of an Icon's wrath... a failed Championship shot... and a failed career. Smile for the camera, Jasons. The spotlight awaits you."

Cracking knuckles.

"Like the words of Jesus Christ... I will shine upon you with a stinging crimson glow of likes you have never seen. Blood will become your sweat... pain will become my pleasure... and you...

Scoff.

"... you will become a lesson learned. For I have learned the hard way... that you cannot turn a daisy into a rose... you cannot create something that isn't there. You can only erase it. You can only let it be what it was destined to be. Jason Mudd... had a destiny. Jason Mudd... was doomed for failure.

Stings... huh, Jason? To know that you'll never amount up to what the magazines said you would. You dug yourself from the fucking ground. The XWF placed you on a fucking pedestal. Jonathyn gave you fame... fortune... championships. And I just stood by and watched... and for what? To hear you call me a loser? Washed up? Bitch... I've done everything you dream of doing, and I've done it easily."

The title is held upward.

"You just have to have it, Jason. And why the hell not? This company has given you everything anyway... what's another Championship to your collection of hand-me-downs. But you can't stand the thought of being second, can you, Jason? No matter what you do, you'll always be second to me. Is that what you want? Is that how you want to be remembered? You've turned your head at roads I've found myself at the end at upon many occasions, Jason. How do you plan on explaining to me that you can walk down this one? The most dangerous of all."

Rolling his neck.

"Simply put... you can't. And you never could. That's what seperates us, Jason. That's what seperates us in life... and that's what will seperate us Sunday night at X-Mas Xtreme. The Boogyman is comin'. And he's coming to erase the embarassment that this company has created."

~-~-~-~

Mental checklist:

Swank-looking clothes? Check.

Champagne? Check.

Marvin on the track? Check.

Beard trimmed? Check.

World Title belt? Resting comfortably on his mantle.

BZZZZZZZZZT!

Shit, he thought, as the doorbell pulled his attention away. Frantically giving himself a once-over in the bedroom mirror, he made sure everything looked great. He didn’t understand why the butterflies were swarming so much in the pits of his stomach. However, this was totally different. Now, it was time to start their lives over again after his torrid affair with his first mistress culminated in tasting the sweet nectar of victory.

Racing out to the living room, he popped in a Tic-Tac and let out a deep sigh. With the eagerness of a twelve- year-old on Christmas morning, he tussled with the locks and nearly ripped the door off its hinges just to see her. When he finally opened it, what he saw on the other side did not disappoint.

"My god."

Those were the only two words Shawn could whisper as his eyes caroused around her all-too-familiar delicate features. From the beautiful bronze skin to that raven-colored hair he loved the scent of. His eyes ventured all the way to those perfect legs he had a bit of a soft spot for. He didn’t regret opening the door one iota knowing she was there, waiting for him like many times before. Her sanguine-tinted dress accentuated the… ahem… womanly characteristics he liked most.

"You’re looking good."

The fact that his eyes couldn’t be turned elsewhere excited her.

"Thank you."

Taking hold of her hand, he coiled his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulders. Kissing the nape of her neck tenderly, a torrent of pleasure washed over her body as he whispered gently into her ear.

"I’m so sorry I turned you away. I was stupid. I…"

His voice was stifled with the taste of her sweet lips. GOD, how he missed the taste. Lips wrestled around in an almost primeval nature. Hands traveled their lover’s respective muscles and curves. A silky finger on his lips prevented Shawn’s journey from moving further. He opened his mouth about to protest, but she managed to stop him with a gentle touch on his cheek.

"What do you say we take this inside? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?"

"You have no idea."

He beamed. For the first time in months, he didn’t feel like a disgusting human being for all he’d put his family through. Taking her by the hand, he led her up the steps, perfectly content with what was about to occur.

As Shawn closed the door behind them, she lets herself fall into the plush cushions of the black sofa. Embracing the feeling of leather against her skin, she was almost at peace as Shawn stood over his liquor cabinet, fixing up two glasses of Merlot. Sure, the evening was young, but with the aroma of her favorite perfume floating around his nostrils, staying in seemed to be on the night’s agenda. Over his shoulder, he spoke in a somewhat downcast manner.

"I am sorry, you know," he began. He couldn’t even begin to go through this without saying his piece. "I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again. I… I almost destroyed what we had by chasing that idiotic gold strap. I never meant to hurt you or toss you to the wayside like you didn’t matter to me. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and I’m glad I have this chance to get you back."

Before he could proceed further with his heartfelt speech, a hand reached out and gently rubbed his chest; that very same way that got his engine revving every single time.

"Sshh." She took the glass off the counter and took a sip. "I know. Things happened that shouldn’t have, but you’ve finally gotten what you wanted out of your career. That was then, this is now and I want to get back what we’ve lost."

"Yeah."

The time for apologizing and past regrets was over. Two virile, consenting adults were about to become one and the thought made Shawn beam even wider. With a glance behind him, he partook of his wine and held onto her hand.

"We… don’t have to talk for this, do we?"

She nodded politely.

"Good," he smirked as he set down his wine glass. SC took her by the hand and started their way towards the master bedroom where a world of endless pleasures awaited them.

"Your money’s on the nightstand, Kayla."

At the foot of the steps, she threw her petite form against his and clenched her teeth around his bottom lip. Like an animal in heat, she pressed him up against the wall and let her hands search his chest, creating a gentle trail with her fingertips.

"I knew you’d come back," Kayla told him. "They all do eventually."

He had nothing to put forward other than reciprocating her lust for him in the form of another hormone-fueled ravaging. Clothes started to disappear. Errant flying high-heels knocked over lamps. Warm bodies start to embrace momentarily before they race their last steps to his room.

In those final moments before he committed another atrocity in a long line of many, he felt sick to his stomach knowing that there’d be long road ahead full of emotional battles.

But if his marriage was going to die, the least he could do was have one hell of a time at the wake.