The room was more than large enough for five people, even when those five people all happened to be professional wrestlers—in Hunter's case, mostly retired—with impressive physiques. Once they had all filed in, though, the space seemed small, almost oppressive, and Seth found himself getting antsy the moment the door was closed. The room looked like it was mostly used for storage, judging from the random stacks of boxes that lined the walls, but there were enough chairs for all of them and just enough space between them to ensure that if Becky had another episode, someone would be able to intercept her before she could do too much damage. Hunter pulled three chairs closer to the wall and motioned to Seth and Roman. "We're just observing, remember," he said, looking pointedly at Seth. "I talked to Bray beforehand and he knows not to ask about anything personal." Then he let out a long breath. "You're sure you're okay to do this, Rollins? Reigns and I can handle it."
"She's my . . . fiancee." Seth caught himself just in time, even though the word felt flavourless and foreign on his tongue after calling Becky his wife for so long. "I want to help her. I won't interrupt; you have my word."
Hunter held his gaze for a long moment. "Okay." Then he gestured for Bray and Becky to sit.
Seth's chest felt uncomfortably tight as he watched Becky sit on one of the chairs, the executive office type that always seemed to be casualties during in-ring contract signings. She drew her legs up onto the seat and swivelled the chair experimentally from side to side. "What's with all the fuss?" she asked, turning briefly to face Hunter as she twined her fingers together, picking at her nails. "Roman has his match soon and—"
"Don't worry, Becky. We won't be long." Bray's voice was strangely soothing. "How are you feeling? I haven't seen you since I was traded to SmackDown." Bray's eyes flicked briefly over to Seth.
"I'm good." Suspicion drew the two simple words out like taffy. "What's going on?"
Bray kept his voice casual and calm. "Nothing. I just wanted to talk." Then he gave her a warm smile. "Want to see some new pictures of Knash? I haven't been posting many online lately; people had been giving Jojo a hard time, so. . . ." He pulled out his phone, swiped the screen a few times, and turned it towards Becky, glancing at Hunter as he did so.
Hunter stood and walked over, flipping through the pictures along with Becky. "Cute kid," he remarked as he sat back down. "Just baby pictures," he murmured to Seth. "Nothing triggering."
Becky's lips curved in a small smile as she flicked through the photos again. "He's got a cute nose."
"Well, he can thank his mama for that, not me." Bray shut off his phone and tucked it back in his pocket. "So what's new with you? How have you been doing?"
There was nothing leading or suspicious in Bray's tone, no matter how much Seth tried to find something there, but it seemed to spark something in Becky all the same. She stopped swivelling the chair from side to side and her fingers finally went still. "My hands hurt." The words were simple and soft, stitched together with subtle agony. Her brow furrowed as she looked down at her hands in her lap, flipping them from back to front and back again before pressing her palms against her thighs.
My hands hurt. Seth replayed the words over and over. There was more than one possibility there. Was she saying her hands were sore, or was that a vague admission of the suffering she had inflicted upon Charlotte?
"What happened?" Bray's voice was low and soothing, the Southern accent—whether it was genuine, played up, or completely fake—as slow and sweet as honey. He held his hands out flat, palms up, and looked to Hunter for a nod of approval before extending them to Becky.
Becky's gaze bounced from his hands to hers. "I don't know," she whispered, resting her hands lightly on Bray's palms. "There was a phone and talking and singing and . . . then they went dark. Numb."
"Your hands did?" Bray asked softly, keeping his gaze on hers.
Nodding, Becky wriggled her fingers experimentally, as if to make sure they still obeyed her. "They did something. I did something." She lurched forward as her breath caught, but Bray's grip kept her from falling out of her chair. "What did I do?"
Hunter started to speak up, but Bray cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. Let her, Bray mouthed as Becky pulled her hands from his and pushed at her knuckles. "You said there was a phone and talking and singing. Were you talking on the phone with a friend? Were you listening to music?"
"No. No." Becky shook her head sharply, balling her hands into fists and pressing them against her stomach. "Not my phone. I didn't need my phone. My friends were there. Talking and singing." Her right hand twitched so quickly Seth wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't been staring at her. "But then they stopped—because of me?" She sat up so abruptly her chair rolled back a bit.
"It's okay. You're okay." Even Seth had to admit Bray's voice was oddly soothing. "You can say it, Becky. It's okay."
Becky's breathing quickened and for a moment, Seth thought she was going to regress the way she had when he questioned her. "My friends were there," she repeated. "There was talking and singing and . . . a video?" She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "And then . . . and then my hands went dark." As she said it, she pulled her hands back to her chest but then, as if on marionette strings, they jerked to attention. "It was too loud." She whispered it so quietly that even Bray had to lean forward to hear her. "It was making everything numb. I . . . I was falling again, so I reached out—" Her hands mimed wringing someone's neck, and picturing Becky's thumbs digging into Charlotte's throat made both Roman and Seth squirm a bit.
"Are your hands still numb?" Bray asked. Seth shot Roman an incredulous look, but his friend just shrugged. When Becky shook her head mournfully, Bray continued, lowering his voice even more. "When did they stop feeling numb, Becky?"
"When the singing stopped. Then . . . then everything popped, like your ears on an airplane, and Roman was there. . . ." She turned to look at Roman and her gaze was trapped between confusion and pain. "What did I do?" she said at last, aiming her words and her gaze directly at Hunter.
"Becky, I can't clear you to wrestle tonight. I'm sorry. We'll . . . make some sort of ambush set-up and improvise from there." Hunter shook his head as he stood. "Rollins, with me. Roman, Bray. . . ?"
Roman didn't need any instructions. "We're good." Then he gave Seth a small but warm smile. "We're good, man. I've got it covered. Go ahead."
"Thanks." Seth trusted Roman more than almost anyone else, but he still felt dread tighten his shoulders as he followed Hunter out of the room. "What can I do?" he asked when they were farther down the corridor. "I'm trying everything I can think of, and I thought she was getting better, but—"
"Seth." Hunter gripped his shoulders and gave him a small shake. "I don't think there's much any of us can do. For everyone's safety—hers, yours, the whole roster—we need to figure out what's going on. I know she was cleared by the therapist, but obviously something's still going on. She can't wrestle until we know what. If she would do that to Charlotte, there's no telling what she might do to someone else."
She doesn't mean it. Seth kept the protest to himself, though. Intentions only counted for so much. "I know. But is it safe for her to be at home by herself while I'm on the road?" The company wouldn't like having one of its biggest stars on the sidelines; if he was gone too, the audience was sure to start questioning why.
Hunter shook his head. "Let me talk with Steph and Shane. We'll figure out a quick fix for tonight and worry about a long-term plan tomorrow. Just . . . keep her as calm as you can. And don't let her watch that video."
Only minutes passed between when Hunter left him and when Roman and Becky emerged from the room, but to Seth it felt like hours. Roman's smile was strained, but at least Becky still looked okay, if somewhat distant. "We should probably head to Creative to see what the new story is," Roman began. "But I was wondering what plans you guys had for the weekend. Naomi's in auntie mode, so she and Jimmy are going to take the kids, and Galina wants the house to herself for a girls' night. . . ."
Seth doubted any of that was true, but he knew when a friend was throwing out a lifeline and when it came to Becky's well-being, he would take all the help he could get. "Just hanging around the house. If Iowa's not too boring for you," he added, glancing over at Becky, "you're more than welcome to come visit for a few days. Cool with you, Becks?"
Becky blinked in surprise, and Seth thought back to what she had told Bray: then everything POPPED, like your ears on an airplane. It was like she was resurfacing after a deep dive, but where she was going, he had no clue, and it was taking her longer and longer to return each time. One day, Seth feared she might not come back to him at all, and he wasn't sure what was worse: the prospect of losing her, or the uncertainty of what might come back in her place.