Work Text:
Seth has been here before — at least, he thinks so. But, this isn't right. He has been here before, years ago, he remembers. He remembers how he got here the first time, the festering frustration, the pending finality of his carefully measured decision. How that decision led to the clear before-and-after in his life; the heavy emotions softening from a rock in his stomach to an easier to swallow pebble over time.
Hunter’s voice echo’s through the room, “in case you haven’t figured it out yet, what I do better than anybody, is adapt.”
Yes, he remembers, but he does not remember it like it was yesterday. Even though, given the steel chair he is currently carrying in his gloved hands, the strand of blond hair in his field of vision, it should have been yesterday. He just doesn’t remember how he got here now.
Next to Hunter on the catwalk, Randy Orton is smiling at him like he is going to eat him alive — and he will later. To the right of him his brothers, together, for now, and dressed in all black.
“Last night was plan A, tonight,” Hunter laughs, “plan B.”
He swings the demolition hammer he has been holding over his shoulder. “There’s always plan B,” Hunter smirks. Seth remembers, that's his cue.
He has done this before, he’s got his marching orders.
Roman looks at him first, then he looks at Dean, ready to strike.
His heart rate slows down as Dean and Roman take a step forward. Unfortunately, Seth knows what to do, too.
Like the first time, the chair hits Roman’s back. It’s clean, sophisticated, simple, and Roman goes down instantly. Somewhere from the audience, a desperate ‘no’ rings out above the chaotic sound of collective confusion. But then, well, then there’s Dean—
Fuck, he could never quite shake the image of the bewildered look on Dean’s face, and now that image gets forcefully bored into his memory again. There’s something so innocent in Dean’s hesitation. If the roles were reversed. Seth knows he would’ve hesitated to act, too.
But Seth doesn't hesitate, one down, one more to go. He tries to not look Dean in the eyes when the chair finds his stomach. Dean keels over, Seth lands a blow on his back, Again, and again, until the chair breaks.
With all his might, he tries to tune out the way Roman is looking at him. He hits Roman again for good measure — stay down, big dog, stay down.
By the time he gets the second chair, the “you sold out” chant are in full swing. It took Seth over three years and the first tag match with Dean to stop that sound from echoing through his nightmares.
He hates it even more now that it’s fresh again — now that it fills his nightmares again.
Everything comes back to him automatically, he drops the chair on to the mat, runs the ropes, he hits his marks. Dean gets curb stomped face-first into the cold hard steel. Hunter and Orton are looking on with twisted glee as Seth tears apart everything he’s worked to protect.
It’s okay, it all played out alright the first time. Maybe, probably, the rerun ends and he’ll wake up soon.
Next, he picks up the chair, jumps down the apron. He feels heavy on his feet where he lands. He takes a moment — to really look at the chair. The chair is just a chair, some screws and metal and not much else to it. Maybe not worthy of all its reverence, but in this business, it might as well have been a loaded gun. As promised, he hands the chair over to Orton who climbs into the ring to kick his brothers when they’re already down.
Hunter proudly pats his shoulder, his hand is scalding hot. He hears Michael Cole loud and clear when he asks if Seth’s made a deal with the devil. Knowing what Seth knows now, he did. But no matter how Faustian the bargain was, when faced with the same question, Seth would do it again.
Roman’s pained grunts are bloodcurdling, but Seth can’t tear his eyes away. He has to watch, he has to face the consequences of his actions, it's only fair. Randy undresses Roman’s top half roughly as Hunter leads them both back up on the apron to watch.
Seth can’t help but stare, the bruises he just put there on full display for the world to see. He looks down on the mangled corpses of his friends, and he needs to will himself to feel nothing, to stay stoic.
Hunter pulls him in, shows off his new acquisition to the world. He’s smiling, excited, his hand possessively placed at the nape of Seth’s neck. In that moment, Seth feels the tattoo down his spine become a branding of Hunter’s fingerprints. He nods at Seth reassuringly, shakes him around to let him know he’s proud of what he did. Seth swallows, he can finally look away.
The broadcast cuts out, fade to black, he’s ready to wake up from this nightmare.
○
Seth has been here before — at least, he thinks so. He has been standing in the ring for a few minutes, his skin still prickling with Hunter's touch.
But— “in case you haven’t figured it out yet, what I do better than anybody, is adapt.” Hunter’s voice echoes through the room.
He's holding the chair again. Roman and Dean are standing in the ring beside him, both fatally unaware of how Seth is about to change the course of their lives forever.
A tremor travels through his arm, he stops himself from shaking.
Seth takes a deep breath, he waits for Hunter to finish the script so he can perfectly play his own part. He's been having trouble sleeping, it's not the first time the sleeping pills are giving him weird dreams. Lately, the responsibility of shaping the future of the company has fallen back on his shoulders. Again.
“There’s always plan B,” Hunter smirks, and Seth lifts the chair. If he trashes around too much, Becky will wake him up. Everything goes down the same; he hits Roman like he means it before violently, relentlessly, releasing everything he has on Dean.
People ask him all the time if he regrets it. His usual answer is: no, not in the slightest. Roman should be on his hands and knees for that title run; should have a shrine for the remains of the chair that Seth is currently breaking over Dean’s back.
Hell, the chair gave Dean a reason to fight. Hunter was right, they were losing steam.
The chair breaks, rendering it unusable. Seth looks at it again before tossing it aside, it almost looks melancholic. He grabs the tactically placed second chair.
One more hit and then down the apron — hand the chair to Orton, let Orton handle the rest.
Orton beats Roman until he’s barely conscious, undresses him to add to the humiliation. Tribal Chief, what has become of you — or well, this Roman isn’t Tribal Chief yet. This Roman still trusted him.
Multiple mistakes were made by multiple people.
Hunter takes Seth with him into the ring, have Hunter’s fingers nails always felt like claws?
○
Seth has been here before — and it’s getting a little bit concerning. Time works differently in dreams, doesn’t it?
Are you sure you are dreaming?
Well, what else could this nightmare be?
“In case you haven’t figured it out yet, what I do better than anybody, is adapt.”
Okay, so, maybe the third time is the charm.
○
Seth’s been here before —
We get it, I have been here before.
○
It is fully automatic, the way Seth knows where to stand, the way Roman almost seems ready, back arched perfectly to safely take the chair — so it doesn’t do permanent damage. The way all of this feels like the perfect accumulation of where their story was headed. The closing of a literal chapter.
He couldn’t have written it better himself. If someone else were to write this story, it would play out like this, every single time.
A weird feeling, a feeling of being watched — watched beyond the thousands of eyes of the willing participants of the audience — overcomes him. Hunter pulls him in, shows off his new acquisition to the world. Maybe beyond.
○
Seth has been here before — he knows it. Because this is about to be the sixteenth fucking time he’s here again, with no clue how he got here.
Mox — it's Mox now, not Dean — Mox went to rehab. Had said something about the definition of insanity. Trying the same thing over and over and over again, expecting different results.
“There’s always plan B.” Hunter smirks.
Right, plan B. Chair. Roman.
Again.
○
Seth’s been here before.
○
Seth’s been here before.
Please, no more.
I’m sorry, again.
The further he got away from that moment, the easier it became to reframe everything. He doesn’t regret is — look, look what came out of it. For everyone, look how it put us on the map. His brother’s the cheered on victims, Seth an easy villain.
The Karmic Ledger fully erased after Roman lost his title, because he couldn’t help himself. The perfect ending to the story, the epic of Roman Reigns. It feels too circular, too clean of an ending to all of this.
“There’s always plan B,”
Like Seth cannot help himself in this moment. Something tells him, he needs to set the story in motion, there isn’t any other way.
○
“There’s always plan B,” Hunter smirks. Seth remembers, that's his cue.
He takes a deep breath as both Roman and Dean take a step forward. Seth peers down the ring, through the ropes. His brother’s cannot see, but he works up the courage to look Hunter dead in the eyes. Seth shakes his head, and Hunter knows enough.
Seth takes a step forward, too. He can feel Roman’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. They’re in this together.
At the time, he didn't think about it. Yes Triple H talked him into it, made some convincing arguments, but—
They could've made it through together, could they not? They'd have his back, protect him if it had come down to it.
Hunter’s face falls, the crowd holds their breath in anticipation for a plan B that never came to fruition. What a let down this must be.
Orton recognises they’re outnumbered, he powders, pulling Hunter with him. But Hunter gives Seth a look, Seth knows enough.
○
Seth’s dreaming, he can’t fully reach it. The image is so faint, the sounds barely audible. It’s Vince’s office, he can make out the shape of Roman, Dean. Somewhere a memory of a feeling, a worry rises to the top; so, we’re not allowed to share a ride any more, right?
Who the hell is Joe?
○
Seth has been here before. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he recognises the bedroom. He did it, he actually did, and he managed to wake up.
“Seth? Are you okay?”
A strong arm wraps around his waist and pulls him in closer. A nose pressed into the nape of his neck. He relaxes into it, everything is okay.
“You were trashing around a lot, babe.”
Seth recognises the bedroom he just woke up in. It’s just not the one he shares with Becky. This isn't right. He has been here before, years ago, he remembers.
“‘M fine, Rome,” he mutters, when this reality dawns on him. He turns from his side to his back from the spooning position — Roman’s still holding on to him, he plants a kiss below Seth’s jaw.
He's awake, but he’s not home.
Okay so he’s in Florida, with Roman, and they were— he guesses he messed that up too. Or not, it gets weird. He wouldn’t trade Becky and Roux for anything in the world. He doesn’t think Roman would give up his own marriage for Seth, either. Even if the thing that broke them up technically didn’t happen, or maybe, it did? Is it yet to come?
“What day is it?”
“It's Saturday,” Roman says, softly, “or well, it's past midnight so, it's Sunday I guess.”
“No, I mean the date.”
“Oh, seventh of June.”
Seth blinks, “what year?”
“Seriously, Seth, how bad was that nightmare? Are you okay?” Through the darkness, he can see the worried expression on Roman’s face.
“What year is it Roman?”
“2014.”
So, it stuck.
He did it. He had the chance to take it all back. Now, he did it.
But that does mean, “Fuck, Becky”
“Becky?” Roman asks, “who's that?”
Seth digs through his memory. Right, Becky, he's not even sure if she's on NXT yet — they haven't met yet, he thinks. Maybe, in the cafeteria, once.
“No one, Rome, I’m sorry for waking you. Just, a really bad dream.”
Roman nods and gingerly runs his fingers through Seth’s hair. Seth can see the blonde streak fall in front of his face. He wonders what the crowd reaction would be if he brought that back now, or well. Whatever his now will be.
Seth's head hits the pillow, suddenly tired. Roman kisses the crown of his head, he's rubbing circles on his lower back.
Seth’s drifting away, when Roman’s murmuring sweet nothings into his hair.
He's not sure, but he thinks he hears it.
Would you like to try again?
○
He is not sure if he remembers it right, but the stadium looks more, well, more empty. There’s empty chairs, too many for him to actually notice. There’s always an empty spot here or there, but had it always been this noticeable before?
Hunter’s voice echo’s through the room, “in case you haven’t figured it out yet, what I do better than anybody, is adapt.” There’s hunter and there’s Orton, but if memory serves him right — and it does serve him right, he’s lost count after about television rerun number thirty-five — Hunter is supposed to hold a demolition hammer. But, he’s not. Doesn’t matter, Hunter keeps talking, no one is going off script this time.
He hands the chair to Orton, Hunter’s touch feels like a welcome.
○
There’s more empty spots now, the people that are left look like a monolith. No expression on their face, they’re all wearing the same black t-shirt, no logos.
The logo’s, the logo’s too are all gone. He whips his head around, he can hear Michael Cole’s commentary, but the announce desk is worryingly empty. So the printer ran out of ink, it seems.
He looks down, he sees that Hunter is still there, but Orton seems to missing. Which is a little more worrying, because he needs Orton. He needs to hand the chair to Orton and then Orton needs to beat his brother’s to a pulp. That’s how it goes, that is how it’s supposed to go.
Maybe it will be alright, maybe the important thing is that he plays his part right.
“There’s always plan B,” sets everything in motion like it always does. Roman goes down instantly. Somewhere from the audience, a desperate ‘no’ rings out above the chaotic sound of collective confusion. It seems like the lesser crowd has not dempend the noise. “You sold out,” echos through the stadium just as loud. Dean looks just as confused, betrayed. He’s sorry, he thinks. But that’s the point.
With no Orton to gift the chair to, Seth decides to improvise. He’s seen the order in which Randy hit his brother’s more than enough times to play both parts. He continues his assault, so everything ends the same way as it always does.
Hunter comes up to the ring to meet him there. It looks like hunter has also learned to improvise, Instead of Orton, he’s the one that lifts Roman, undresses his torso and shows off all his bruises to the near empty stadium.
Are people still watching at home?
Would you?
○
The bleachers are all empty.
Dean, where is Dean?
“There’s always Plan B.” Hunter smirks.
No really, where is Dean?
Yet, the chair finds Roman’s back.
○
There's the chair. There’s the ring. There’s Roman. Everything else is an endless expanse of white, like a fog. The single decision that led to the clear before-and-after in his life stripped down to its bare essentials.
Triple H is not here, neither is Randy — the crowd, Dean.
But, Roman steps forward like he always does and Seth clamps his fist around the cold steel.
Roman is staring into the abyss where Hunter is supposed to be. Seth pulls the chair back ready to hit Roman, like he has done countless times before.
But before he can, Roman turns around.
“Really?” He raises an eyebrow. Seth’s heart sinks in his chest.
“Even when it's just us?”
“Yeah,” Seth doesn't think about — he has thought about it. “Yeah, that's the point isn't it?”
Roman winks at him, gives him a brief, apologetic smile. “Yeah, I think so.”
Seth bites his lip, smiles back wryly. He wants to open his mouth, to say he wishes it could’ve gone differently. But, that would be a lie, and he is not in the habit of lying to Roman.
He turns around, everything in its right place again. “Okay, I'm ready, little brother.”
Seth hits Roman with a steel chair.
○
Seth's been here before. But so has Roman. Everything looks like it has been the first time, everything in its right place, again.
○
Seth’s been here before — again.
○
Seth’s been here before.
○
○
○