To The Stars - 11. July, 2018

Tuesday, July 3rd

"Whew, you certainly have your work cut out for you," Doctor Bandyopadhyay remarked with his eyes open wide, returning to the waiting room without Jillian. Diego was confused and perhaps a little concerned that his daughter wasn't with the psychiatrist. Is she crazy or demented? Audrey squeezed his hand in support. "Firstly, I think I need to congratulate you on raising two under the age of four as a single parent. Twins can be challenging and demanding even for parents who are in a committed relationship, so I want to remind you that there's no reason for you to feel like you're failing in any way by bringing your children here today. It happens a lot more than you might think, especially if your daughter and son have been exposed to a toxic home environment - their mother's home."

"Yes," Diego replied. He did feel like a failure, though. I screwed up. I let my babies live with that disgusting woman, and now they need therapy. Troy is in Monterrey with his mother. Nina's the only one I seem to have done an okay job with, and that's all on Audrey being a great mother.

"Julian does appear traumatised, but he will recover reasonably quickly if you get full custody - and I intend to give a comprehensive report as to why I believe you should," the middle-aged psychiatrist wasn't exactly what Diego pictured. He was often spinning a pen around his fingers while he spoke and had a pair of sunglasses resting on the top of his shaved, brown head. "I'd like to see him again perhaps every other week, just to make sure he's traveling well. It's clear to me that he adores and admires you, so I'm confident that with support, he's going to be just fine."

"That's fantastic," Audrey smiled, and Diego agreed with her. That was some delightful news - his boy would be okay. He's just scared of... her. His mother, and her little clone.

"What about Jillian?" Diego asked the question that had been nagging at him. He looked across to the children's play area, where Julian and Nina were having fun with a wooden train set.

"Jillian has a lot of anger and rage in her," Doctor Bandyopadhyay explained calmly. Am I paying you three hundred bucks to tell me this psycho kid is angry? Diego looked at him coldly. He better have made more progress.

"Yeah, she does," Diego broke the silence. "What about it?"

"I'm not sure where it's all coming from," the doctor admitted. Diego was okay with this. He only wanted answers, and 'I don't know' was good enough. "She's hostile to both you and Julian, but she refuses to talk about why. It could be for a number of reasons, but that's not what truly bothers me. Her attempted attack on her brother doesn't fit the profile of a tantrum or a quarrel. From what you tell me, it was calculated and premeditated - I'd very much like to spend more time with Jillian before she returns home."

Diego's mouth felt dry just thinking about the way Jilly waited for bedtime to try and attack Julian with the fork he didn't notice had gone missing from their dinner time last night. He knew there was something wrong with her, as much as he tried to tell himself she was going to grow out of it. She didn't try to hurt her brother in an explosive tantrum - she planned it ahead of time, and that was the kick in the butt he needed to face up to it.

"What do you mean?" Audrey asked on his behalf. I'm so glad I have her. She's the diamond in the rough of my baby mommas. "You'd like to extend our appointment?"

"Well, I was hoping to admit her to a pediatric ward for a brief period," Doctor Bandyopadhyay finally came out and said it. "She's careful with what she tells me, and I think I could make a lot more progress if we could monitor her more closely. Of course, this is entirely up to you, Mr Silva, but I heavily recommend letting my team examine her more thoroughly."

"Oh..." Diego looked across at his other children again. She tried to hurt her brother. Really hurt him. "Can I visit her?"

"Of course!" The psychiatrist seemed surprised. Nearly offended. "I'm not offering to incarcerate her, just to keep her under observation. I want to spend more time with her and try to get to the root of what's going on. You can see her any time between eight a.m. and seven p.m., although we request a period without visitors between one and three. Additionally, you can withdraw her from our care whenever you'd request it. This is all strictly voluntary."

"Diego," Audrey turned her head and spoke gently to him. "I know she's not my child, but I think this is what's best for both of the twins. If it were Nina, I wouldn't even think twice."

"You're right," he mumbled, and he looked up at the psychiatrist, fiddling with his pen. "When do you think is the best time?"

"When you're ready, but cases like this, the sooner the better," Doctor Bandyopadhyay replied calmly.

"Now?" Diego asked timidly, and the doctor nodded.

"I can organise to take her in now if you like," he answered. "But you need to tell her what's going on, first."

"Oh, boy," Diego let out a cold laugh. "Pay attention, doc. You'll see what I'm talking about. If you think I've got my work cut out for me, then you're going to love this. She's been an angel since we got here."

"Don't be like that," Audrey lectured him, standing up and extending her hand to him. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

"No, you probably shouldn't," Diego ignored her gesture and got up himself. He didn't need a woman's help to get out of a chair. His knee was almost better, and he could walk on it without his crutch now. Still had that blasted knee brace, though. "Zoey's going to have a field day with this. It's probably better you stay out of it."

"Suit yourself," she replied icily, folding her arms over her chest. Oh, come on. You don't get to be mad at me. I'm only trying to keep you out of the sights of that crazy bitch. She's not even your daughter.

Jilly was happily playing with the truck set under the watchful eye of Doctor Bandyopadhyay's medical student. Why never with dolls or tea sets? He'd always thought he'd let his daughters bully him into playing with cute dolls and have tea parties and dress up, but the closest he ever got to any of that was with freaking Julian. Both of his daughters were complete tomboys. Nina loved wrestling and Jilly was fanatic about cars and trucks and trains. At least no boy is ever going to push them around, Diego reasoned to himself. Nina will kick his ass and Jilly will probably stab him in his sleep.

"Hey Jillybean," he knelt down beside her, and she looked at him. At first, he thought she was angry, but she smiled at him and gave him a big hug, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Hello, Daddy! Do you wanna play some trucks with me?" She asked excitedly. "The doctor has better toys than we do at home."

"Yeah, I see that," he commented, wanting to call her an ungrateful cow. She had all the toys she could ever want. Maybe that was my mistake. Maybe I spoiled her too much. "How would you like to stay with the doctor for a while?"

"Why?" Jilly asked, pulling away from him and eyeing him off. Oh dear. She had that look on her face. Get a load of this, doc. She was already working up to pre-tantrum.

"Doctor Bandyo...pa..." he struggled to finish the name and shot an apologetic look at the doctor, who didn't seem remotely surprised. "He wants to get to know you better, okay? So we think it might be nice for you to spend some time with some other children in a special hospital. Just for a couple of days."

"No!" Jilly glared at him and turned away. "I hate the doctor."

What do I do? He didn't want to upset her. He didn't want to let her stay in a psychiatric ward for children, but he needed to, didn't he? He had to do it for his other kids. She was dangerous. Julian shrieks of terror last night still played through his mind. There is no easy solution to this, he heard Audrey's voice calmly remind him. It's okay not to have all the answers, but you can't ignore this any longer. But... she's my little girl. I love her.

"Jillybean, please," Diego tried to reason with her, but she was already too far gone and he knew it.

"I hate you too!" She yelled, and her face began to contort and stretch into full-fledged meltdown-face.

"I love you, little darling," he felt himself starting to cry. He hated seeing her like this. He hated the thought that he was doing the wrong thing by her, that she would never forgive him for this. "Don't yell at me. Be a good girl for Doctor Bandy, okay? It won't be a long visit, I promise, and I'll visit you as much as I can."

"No!" Jillian threw the truck right at his face, but his quick reflexes kicked in and he deftly blocked it with his hand. She threw another, and Diego caught her wrists and tried his best to hold her still. She was furious, and the doctor seemed appalled at what he was seeing. She was beginning to scream at the top of her lungs. She's so small. How does she make so much noise?

"Jillian, this is not an acceptable way to behave," Doctor Bandyopadhyay firmly lectured her, and he took over, much to Diego's relief. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. With his career on hold while he covered from an injury - one that was mild enough but put him permanently at higher risk while he wrestled - and problems with Zoey, Julian and especially Jilly, he was starting to feel incredibly run down. The doctor and his pretty med student were both in awe at the power of Jilly's amazing rage.

"I better go," Diego didn't want to cry in front of his daughter. "I'll be in to visit you as soon as I can, baby girl. Daddy loves you, okay?"

"Well, I hate you!" Jillian screeched. I'm sorry, Jillybean, but I've gotta do this. Please forgive me one day.

It was an uncomfortable ride home when Diego finally filled out the forms with an unsteady hand and tears falling from his eyes. He never cried. He didn't like to. Crying was for women and pansy men. Still... this was one of his kids. She was still having her meltdown when he attempted to say goodbye to her. Julian and Nina refused to see her, particularly when she was in a state like that, and he couldn't blame them. Zoey was never going to forgive him for letting their daughter spend time in a hospital. The courts and lawyers were going to hear all about what a terrible father he was.

He hated how peaceful it was at home without her, how Nina's hyperactivity was the worst thing he had to deal with. She was bothersome and tiring, but Audrey was firm with her and reeled her in with little trouble every time she was getting out of control. How does she do that? How is she so confident? I can't do anything with these kids without second guessing myself. He didn't know what he'd do without Audrey staying with him so often these days. I should have married her, he thought as he watched her dress little Julian, who had warmed up to her lately. Maybe we don't love each other, but she's exactly what Nina needs. And Julian. And me.

"Lighten up," she scolded him while the two of them began to prepare lunch together. "You're not helping her with this pity party. I bet when you cut the onions, you'll make them cry instead."

"I suppose that means I'm cutting the onions," Diego replied glumly, and Audrey slapped him on the back.

"Of course you are," Audrey laughed. "That's the rule. You knocked me up without permission, so until Nina's eighteen, you're my bitch."

"Why can't we just hire someone to cook for us?" Diego whimpered.

"Oh, stop being a big baby," she grabbed one of his curls, pulled it out and let it spring back to his head. She loved doing that. She did it to Nina too, and now Julian as well. "It won't hurt you to get your hands dirty in the kitchen. I thought you were getting past all this man's business and woman's business nonsense."

"I'm trying," he admitted quietly, making eye contact with her. "It's weird. Old habits die hard, and all that. It just feels wrong to be in here."

"What a shame," she reached up and playfully tweaked his ear. "If only you'd had this epiphany five years ago. We might have really been something, had you not told me that taking care of a baby is the woman's job."

"Yeah, that came back to bite me," Diego managed a laugh.

"I'm proud of you," she smiled, putting an arm around him and looking back. Julian was sitting on his big sister's lap, and the two were watching more reruns of those freaking Power Rangers. I didn't even know this is what I wanted until I had it, he realised. "What brought this on? This whole change?"

"I started falling in love with a man," he whispered the words to her to keep them secret. She wasn't surprised; she'd called it months ago when he still wasn't ready to admit it to himself.

"I know," she smiled with her rose-painted lips, and she pushed her glasses up her nose. "I would never have guessed until I saw it myself."

"I'm not gay," Diego immediately said, and Audrey shook her head.

"Honey, you don't have to explain anything to me," she reassured him, turning back to the spaghetti bolognese they were supposed to be making. "Falling for Waya does not mean you're gay, and even if you were, it's just a word."

"How can I like him if I'm not gay?" Diego asked, doing his job at last and beginning to slice the onions. They did end up making him cry.

"You're overthinking the labels," she explained, unpacking the mince. "Man, woman, gay, straight... they don't define who you are. I've been trying to tell you this for nearly eight years. If Sean Fox a girl, you wouldn't think twice. Hey, at your rate he'd probably be pregnant by now."

"Hmph," Diego knew she had a point, even if she was teasing him.

"Just... don't freak out," she added, taking a moment to put her hand on his arm. "Whatever it is, why don't you enjoy it? If you're in love with someone, Diego, then the words and the labels don't matter. If he makes you happy, just be happy."

~~~

Friday, July 13th

"Big man!" Jimmy beamed with joy and slapped Diego's hand as the champion limped his way past. "How's the knee? The place hasn't been the same without you!"

"Big man? Look at you!" Diego laughed and hugged the exceptionally tall, broad man. He'd always had a soft spot for Jimmy Vause, even if he managed to leave welts across the Brazilian man's back more often than not. "I think you got even bigger while I was away. How's everything going around here?"

"Oh, you've been missing out on a lot," Jimmy whistled. "Margaret's starting to throw her weight around and people are getting mad. Gloria's about ready to bodyslam her, I think."

"Really? What's she doing wrong this time?" Diego wasn't alone when the very mention of that horrible southern woman sent a shiver down his spine. She had no business running a wrestling program.

"We got a whole new bunch of women signed," Jimmy explained quietly, as though she'd hear him if he spoke too loud.

"What? Isn't that a good thing?" Diego frowned. "We're always getting criticism for not doing enough for the women's division."

"You'd think that, but ah..." Jimmy rolled his eyes. He looked quite handsome with his brown hair neatly tied back and his beard shaved, dressed in a collared shirt. "They're all like Lance Lovecraft. Pretty faces and no wrestling experience."

"Oh, that's all we need," Diego groaned. Michelle was going to be furious. Gloria, Pearl and Rachel as well. Not to mention the online wrestling community, who had been clamouring for a long time to have Gloria return to a prestigious position in the women's division. Now, Gloria would have to contend with more modelesque women almost half her age, and for Pearl, half her weight. This was getting to be beyond a joke.

"Good luck in 'Chelle's office," Jimmy winked at him and gave him a thumbs up. "Great to have you back, Silva!"

Heh. It was nice to be appreciated, he thought. He liked the giant man, but Jimmy was rarely up for socialising. Whatever he got up to in his spare time was anybody's guess - he was a reclusive man who kept his private life quiet. In spite of his fearsome appearance, he was a gentle soul. Nina adored him, of course. She had a big crush on Lance and a big crush on Jimmy, so if she had a specific type, he had no freaking idea what it was. The only thing the two had in common was wrestling, and that was a pretty big stretch, considering Lance's record in the ring.

It wasn't that bad, he reminded himself. Well, the debut last year was so bad that the replay was gone from KADA's website. It was Lance's match against Sean at the pay per view two weeks ago that was acceptable. Three minutes was a very short match, but it was just as well. Lance had done okay. He looked terrific in his new glittery sapphire blue attire, and he played the crowd. He was graceful and athletic and even busted out some impressive technical moves he'd been working on with Gloria during their weekly training session, but he was still slow, scared and very stiff with selling moves. Sean wouldn't admit it, not now that he and Lance had become good friends, but Diego knew that he was frustrated with the limits he was forced to impose on himself. He wanted to wow the crowd, Michelle and Margaret, but without an opponent who could keep up with him and make him look good, he couldn't do that.

He knocked on Michelle's door, to hear her bark at him to come in. Her wrinkly face lit up, and she clapped in joy to see her moneymaker back. She was sitting next to the Queen Wasp herself, Margaret, who was next to her. Marg didn't look as happy to see him, but he didn't expect she would. She was impossible to please, it would seem. Her platinum hair had grown longer since he saw her last, and she'd straightened it today. She and Jerry were partners in the business, and he had no idea why it was this cold, rotten bitch who called all the shots. Jerry didn't seem to have much interest in the business anymore, only its profits. Marg liked to use it to raise her stock in the celebrity and business worlds. Michelle didn't give a damn about that, though. Wrestling was in her blood. Her father and his father were both professional wrestlers, and she lived and breathed the business. He trusted her to call the shots. She did right by everyone on the roster, but while Margaret was pulling strings, the place was not going down the right road. The forty-year-old milf was concerned only with immediate results; she didn't give a damn what happened in the next couple of months.

"Silva, you're a sight for sore eyes!" She even got up and went around to shake his hand warmly. He'd thought she'd even hug him, but she did not. She wasn't much of a hugger. "I never thought I'd miss the biggest thorn in my ass, but here you are! How's the knee, kid?"

"Kid, nobody calls me a kid anymore," Diego laughed. "The knee's getting better, I can run and jump on it now as long as the brace is on. Hello, Mrs Bloom. It's been a while; how have you been?"

"I've been just fine," Margaret smiled at him, speaking in her extreme Alabama accent. "I'm delighted to see you've been cleared to be here tonight. Any more and we'd have to get UPS to bring us our belt back!"

"I'm glad it didn't come to that," Diego knew she wasn't joking or exaggerating. A champion usually surrendered their belt and the title was vacated in the event of an injury that lasted more than a month. Diego was lucky this time. "I'm here now, and I'm ready to tear the house down, though."

"That's my champ!" Michelle grinned at him and punched him in the chest. He'd missed her a lot while he was away. "Now, you're sure you're ready to go out there tonight?"

"I'm not a hundred per cent yet, but with the brace on, I can perform well enough," Diego reassured her, but Margaret wasn't as easily convinced.

"Well enough isn't good enough darlin'," she clasped her hands with the long golden nails and rested her chin against them. Excuse me, bitch? You're the one who thought Lance was good enough to main event the end of year pay per view! Who are you to tell me my best isn't good enough? "We need you to perform at a top tier level if you're going to be our champion. You know how it is. We can't make exceptions - either you're ready to go tonight, or you're not."

"I'm ready," Diego asserted, his voice growing cold with indignance. This freaking woman. Michelle shared his sentiments, she knew, but even though she was the director for the company, she still answered to Margaret, and she was every bit as expendable as he was. This is stupid, he thought not for the first time. Why is she making decisions in an industry she knows nothing about?

"I'm glad to hear it," Marg replied sweetly and superciliously. "We've set the stage for you to come back tonight following Lance Lovecraft's match with Oliver V, and you will save him from an attack."

"Yeah, I got the text," Diego was wondering where she was going with this. Michelle was still looking at him. What's going on?

"Well, as you know, there has been quite a lot of buzz around Mr Lovecraft's influence, particularly with the recent uprising of the gay pride movement. We want to capitalise on this, so Jerry, Michelle and I have agreed that you're going to become lovers on screen," Marg didn't blink once while she was talking, and her hazel eyes were unmoving. What? What??

"No," Diego shook his head. "Absolutely not. No. I'm not doing that. No way. No freaking way! No! I'm not gay!" He looked to Michelle, who didn't avert her eyes but she was evidently not a part of this decision. She wouldn't do that to me.

"I understand that you're not a gay man," Margaret soothed him. "This is only for the camera, Mr Silva. Think of the company. Think of Diego Silva, Heavyweight Champion. Not yourself - not this homophobic man behind the scenes."

"This is a joke, right?" Diego was becoming angry. Lovers with Lance Lovecraft? Nope. Not in this lifetime. "I'm not doing that. No."

"You're welcome to refuse," Margaret had a dangerous edge in her voice. "Of course, if you don't want to embrace this new angle, then that means I'll have to go to the trouble of finding someone else who will. They'll get the championship belt, and we'll find a more suitable position in the company for you. Perhaps Sean Fox would embrace this opportunity. I know he and Mr Lovecraft get along together, and I know he's got aspirations for a championship run. Let's not forget that he would be standing here instead of you if you didn't convince me that you and Lance were a better investment than Waya in the first place. I have to say, Mr Silva, you're just not working out as well as you promised me you would."

Margaret! He looked anxiously at her, and she was smirking at him. He looked across to Michelle, whose mouth had dropped in the face of that realisation. Marg, what are you trying to do to me? Are you trying to sabotage me? Blackmail me? I don't even know!

"I'm not doing a gay angle," he replied simply, his heart fluttering in his chest. "Not with him. Lance? No. I won't."

"I respect that," Margaret smiled at him. "That's your decision in the end. You know I can't force you to do anything. I'm just saying that this is my decision and if Mr Fox has any questions as to why I chose you instead of him, then I'm just going to have to tell him, aren't I?"

Diego was stuck. He hated the sight of Lovecraft. He always had. Even if they did agree to a truce, that didn't mean the feelings of mutual hatred had been resolved. He could live with a gay angle, he thought. If it were Sean, Ollie, Jimmy, Giorgio or literally anyone else on the roster, he would have considered it and even gone ahead with a few certain provisos. Just... not him. Please, not him. What choice do I have, though? She's making it very clear that she'll spill the beans about sticking the knife in Sean's back and career all those months ago. I can't have that.

"What do you want me to do?" He gave up. Give her what she wants. Michelle was selling herself out to make her boss happy. He could do the same. He loved his job, and he pulled down an average of three hundred and ninety thousand a year doing it - depending on the shows he worked and the appearances he made.

"Nothing drastic," Marg reassured him, beaming at him now that she knew she had won. She always wins in the end. Even her stunt last year by putting Lance in the main event had given her a huge boost in pay per view sales - even breaking KADA's record. The backlash had fallen squarely on Lance and Michelle's shoulders, not Marg's. "When you rescue him tonight, we want to see the two of you share a sweet little kiss. I'm not asking you to make out in the middle of the ring."

"A kiss on the lips?" Diego grimaced, and Marg nodded her head. Oh, no.

Michelle followed him out once the meeting was over. She was pissed; he could see it all over her face. She knew his secret now.

"So that's why she got involved back in February," she hissed angrily at him. "You went over my head, didn't you? All that crap that happened to limey Lovecraft is on you! What the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your goddamn mind, Silva?"

"Michelle, I've felt like crap about that ever since I did it," Diego looked at her sadly. "Please don't give me a lecture about locker room solidarity and stuff."

"You're right," she snarled, pointing in his face. "There's no point explaining solidarity to a traitor. Mum's the word, Silva. You make sure nobody finds out about this, because I don't need my entire friggin' roster turning on my champion! You selfish dumbass. I should have partnered Lance up with Sean in the first place and put your miserable career out of its misery. Get out of my sight."

She returned to her office, slamming the door shut behind her. Diego felt gutted. If I could take that back, I would! He tried his best to put it out of his mind. There wasn't anything he could do about it now. He saw Pearl and Lance together as he strode the corridor. They were laughing incredibly hard about something. He wondered what it could have been. Pearl was already in her spandex bodysuit, ready to perform for the night. Lance wasn't yet. He was wearing a frilly long-sleeve shirt, skin-tight jeans and that colossal bowtie that Diego was starting to appreciate. He also had a black miniature top-hat clipped onto his fluffy red hair. What a pair they were, he thought. Pearl and Gloria were the first to defy Jimmy's order about sending the boy to Coventry, and both girls embraced him as a good friend nowadays. Diego put up with it rather than trying to reject him nowadays. If there was anything he'd learned, it was that Lovecraft would never, ever give up.

"Do I get to hear the joke?" Diego announced his arrival with a forced smile. Pearl was lovely. Lance was not.

"You wouldn't understand the joke!" Pearl wiped her eyes and hugged him, crushing her ample breasts against his chest. "I've missed you! It's great to have you back! I would have loved to come to the pool party, but I was too busy, I'm sorry. May I come to the next one?"

"You can come and visit any time you like, Pearly!" Diego grinned and turned his attention to Lance, who was eyeing him off suspiciously. He could hardly blame him. Diego had a history of being unpleasant.

"Hey, you think you can kiss me without barfing?" Diego asked cheekily.

"Oh, honey!" Lance smirked at him, and Pearl giggled. "I've been dreaming about this moment since I was fourteen. It's you I'm worried about!"

"Ha, funny," Diego felt a little uncomfortable. He knew Lance had been lusting after him for a long, long time before he joined the roster, and he didn't like that knowledge. "You're okay with this? This storyline?"

"Are you kidding me?" Lance scowled all of a sudden. His makeup was especially thick today. "I'm finding it pretty offensive to be the damsel in distress who rewards her big, studly hero with a kiss. No, Diego, I'm not okay with it, but it's not like I can do my nut and refuse."

"Sure you can!" Diego was almost ready to beg. "You're a big shot celebrity, right? Marg has to listen to you if you tell her where to stick this stupid storyline."

"Honey, I'm a model and a dancer," he reminded the Brazilian. "I'm not exactly Daniel Radcliffe. I'm just fitter than him. And with all the new women the gaffer's hired today... I know better than to bite the hand that feeds me, you know? I want to keep my job, thanks."

Trying to keep up with Lance was a chore sometimes. English wasn't Diego's first language - or even his second. It was his third, behind Portuguese and Spanish. English was hard enough already, so he couldn't understand why Lance and his people needed to make it that much more complicated with all their slang and their phrases and that stupid rhyming slang crap. At least the red boy had a pleasant voice and spoke with a clear accent. It could be worse.

"Alright," Diego sighed. Get over it. It's only for television. "I'll see you out there later on. You kids have fun."

"You kids?" Lance giggled. "Oh, you're so adorable, honey. I'll try not to kiss you too well, okay? "

"Don't turn him gay!" Pearl remarked as Diego walked away. Ahh, he was so excited about coming back to work ever since he'd hurt himself. This wasn't what he'd been expecting. Stupid gay Lance.

Ollie and Sean were around, but Diego did not go looking for them. He didn't like seeing them together. It made him fiercely jealous to see the way Oliver was always touching his boyfriend. My boyfriend... or at least, unofficially he is. He had no idea what Sean was doing or what he was thinking. It just... it sucked. He would leave Rachel in a heartbeat to be with Sean. It hurt his feelings to know that Sean wouldn't do the same for him. You can't have it both ways. I don't like this.

Gloria and Rachel were happy to spend the evening with him, though. The blond woman loved showing off her brand new Women's Championship belt - the one she earned after defeating Irina at the pay per view. The golden couple, the dirt sheets and press had named them. Fitting, Diego supposed. They were both champions now, after all. It was a shame that was all they seemed to have in common - well, that and another thing. They saw each other rarely nowadays, but at least they were still dynamite in bed together. They always had been. A visit from Rachel often entailed minimal contact, but some terrific sex. Sean hadn't visited since they had their romantic rendezvous, though. He wanted the Cherokee man so badly. I'd do everything he wanted and more, he thought. If only he'd just leave Ollie. There was no room for any intimacy between them now that the big, black man was back on the road with them.

"Babe," Diego greeted Rachel with a kiss on the lips and a stroke down her exposed back, and Gloria with a loving hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey babe," Rachel replied with a smile. She was in a good mood now that she'd finally become the champion. It was nice.

"That's alright, I love being the third wheel," Gloria teased them, running her hand through her black and blue hair. Where most of the girls liked to get their hair and makeup done by the very talented beautician, Jeanette, Gloria wanted to do it herself. She didn't wear a lot of makeup, and her wavy hair was left mostly natural.

"So, six new girls, hey?" Diego asked and immediately wished he didn't. Gloria groaned in frustration and Rachel began to do that annoying, harsh laugh she did when she was upset about something.

"Don't even talk about it, Di!" Gloria huffed. "I'm getting too old and tired even to think about half a dozen Lances sharing the ring with me."

"Women's wrestling in KADA is turning to crap," Rachel added with a sad sigh. "I know I'm not the best wrestler in the world, but I can have some great matches with the girls we had. These new bitches, though? Ugh."

"No disrespect to the new rookies, of course," Gloria bit her lip. "It's just... the females don't get a lot of time on television as it is. The whole division gets around seven minutes on a two and a half hour show to get ourselves over and have a match. What's going to happen to us now?"

"Are they really just a bunch of bimbos?" Diego asked, beginning to worry. Gloria was right - in the last three years, the time since Margaret bought her way into the company, women's wrestling in KADA was losing its heat. The matches were becoming slower, tamer and considerably shorter, and the prettier girls always held the championship. Irina was a gorgeous Russian girl, and Rachel was beautiful as well. The new influx of pretty girls was a sinister omen for Gloria and Pearl - one was nearing forty years of age, and the other was a big girl.

"I don't like your use of the word bimbos," Gloria grinned. "I don't like it, though. Marg told us that she was taking women's wrestling in a different direction, so our careers are about to land in the toilet. I'd love to throw that misogynistic bitch through a table."

"She can't be misogynistic," Diego pointed out. "She's a woman." Rachel began laughing at her boyfriend's naivety and Gloria sighed.

"I love you, little starling," the New Yorker shook her head. "You say the darnedest things."

"She doesn't take us seriously as performers," Rachel flipped her phone out of her pocket. Oh, here we go. "I didn't train for ten years just to be eye candy on-screen like Lance."

"Twenty for me," Gloria added, her voice glum. She looked and sounded exhausted. "It looks like KADA is going to be full of Lances before long while Marg's calling the shots. I've spent half my life in the ring, and now I'm being shafted to make room for the girls with no waists and big tits."

It was uncomfortable to think about it. He was starting to realise that Jimmy and Lance's championship match may have been a lot more detrimental to the brand that initially thought - is this going to become a regular thing? Is Marg going to ruin all of us? This gay storyline was nothing more than a ploy to hustle more support from the LGBT lobbies. It made so little sense, as far as Diego was aware. Even Lance isn't okay with this.

Later on, he was watching the monitor above the curtain. Lance was embroiled in a match against Oliver tonight. At the last pay per view, Sean defeated Lance when Oliver - who had been neutral throughout their feud - allied himself with Waya when he tripped Lance up from ringside, opening up an opportunity for Sean to hit a beautiful Moonsault for the victory. The next week, Sean defeated Lance a second time in a rematch, again with Oliver's assistance. This week, Lance was going to lose again, and Ollie and Sean were going to beat on him until Diego made his return to television to save him... and kiss him.

Lance couldn't wrestle - he just couldn't. Everything was sloppy. He was scared and lacked confidence in himself, and as much as Ollie tried to carry the match, it always looked awkward. It was a mercy when it drew to a close. Oh, well. At least Lance looked great and played the crowd. That's all KADA is now, right? Hmph. As the two beat down a defenceless, beaten Lovecraft, Diego's music blared, and he ran through the curtain. I'm back!

He was surprised, though. Not in a good way. Once his music faded out, the arena was dead. People saw him, they saw him slide into the ring to rescue Lance, but they didn't care about him. It was just like a year ago at the end of year pay per view. Nobody cheered, nobody booed. The audience didn't care that he was back from an injury. They didn't care at all that he'd been away for six weeks. There was a small buzz when he spear tackled Sean to the ground and threw him over the top rope, then delivered an earth-shattering Silva Spiral to Ollie V, but it was like they'd forgotten that he was the hero of the story. Diego couldn't help but feel ripped off. Go to hell, Phoenix. You ungrateful bastards. I worked my ass off to be here and put on a show for you while I'm still in pain. How about just a little appreciation, huh? It's Lance, he reminded himself. They never really cared about you, they only ever liked you because Lance was with you the whole time. Now that he's starting to break out on his own, you're dead in the water.

Maybe Marg knew more than she let on, he thought. Perhaps this new stupid gay angle might do the trick because just having Lance with me isn't working. Listen to them. You might actually hear the fatasses from the back rows slurping on their sugar slushies. What kind of injustice is this, though? All the resentment he had for Lance, all the jealousy and hatred, it came flooding right back. This kid shakes his ass, and everyone in Arizona wants to kiss it. I wrestle for sixteen freaking years to put on the best performances in the entire wrestling industry, and they don't give a crap. Lance knew he needed to save the segment, though. Diego was getting too wrapped up in the awkwardness of the moment, and he threw his arms around Diego's neck, bringing his face closer. Diego looked into those red, red eyes. I hate you, Lovecraft. Let's get this over with.

He whispered something to Lance in Portuguese, something he knew the boy wouldn't understand that expressed his feelings about everything going on right now. That admission of hatred gave him enough juice to lean forward and press his mouth against those cherry red lips, kissing his nemesis like he was forced to. There was no chemistry between them - it was one of the worst kisses he'd ever had, and he couldn't just blame that on stupid Lance being a privileged, entitled little mutt, or even a boy. Sean's kisses were lovely. They lit a fire in him. Lance, though, it was like kissing a dead turtle. He did his best not to let that show to the crowd, though, because a fire had lit under them. I'm glad someone's enjoying this, Diego thought angrily as he pulled away. The Phoenix fans were on their feet, roaring with many different reactions. Shock, horror, laughter, cheering, booing, love and confusion, he could hear all of that. Lance, beaming as though he got that kiss from his crush ten years ago, took Diego by the hand and began to lead him out. The crowd had started a chant.

"Saw it coming! Saw it coming! Saw it coming!"

Really? Well, good for you guys, he thought. I sure as hell did not, and neither did stupid Lance. He saw through the kid's smile and happy waving. He wasn't pleased either. At least we have something in common, then. KADA sucks the meat nowadays. Someone needs to kill Marg before she destroys all of us. I hate this. I hate that I spent sixteen years wrestling and six weeks recovering from an injury for freaking nobody. I hate that I'm in love with the person I threw under the bus for the push no one cares about. I hate that this isn't a show about wrestling anymore. I hate stupid Lance Lovecraft for being better at this than me. I hate him.

~~~

Friday, July 27th

What happened to KADA while I was away? It wasn't much fun lately, he thought. He'd rather be home with Audrey, Nina and Julian. Audrey had become sort of a stepmother to Julian, which was incredibly generous of her. She had her own life to lead; she didn't have to stay at Diego's house and take care of his son in addition to their daughter while he was away in Albuquerque. He was going to compensate her for that generously. Not for the first time, he wondered how Jillian was coping with her mother. The two nights in the psychiatric ward had done little to help Jillian's attitude, but both twins had a weekly visit with Doctor Bandyopadhyay, half an hour each. Nina had one hour every month on Audrey's insistence.

According to the doctor, Jillian likely had Oppositional Defiant Disorder that was being aggravated by Zoey's toxic behaviour, and he was working to help her through that. Diego didn't think much of that diagnosis - it sounded like putting a name and excuse on Jilly being a bitch of a girl. Nina had Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, but Diego had long ago managed to work that one out on his own. While he could hardly say much for the doctor's detective skills, at least Julian and Nina seemed to be benefitting from seeing him. Audrey thought everything was progressing well and he tended to trust her judgment.

KADA's where I'm supposed to come to get away from that madhouse, he thought glumly. It's not supposed to be just as bad here as it is at home. Michelle had as good as written him off after she learned that he spat on the locker room code back in February. She would only talk with him where it was necessary. Oliver was outgoing and friendly, but Diego struggled to be around him, knowing that he had the privilege of nailing the guy that he had feelings for. Sean didn't talk to him much while Oliver was around - which was always, now that they were back on the road together. Gloria was perpetually angry about the way the company was pushing her out. Jimmy wasn't a social animal, and Pearl was fretting about being replaced by the new pretty girls. Pretty was an understatement - they were all playboy material. Sexy as hell. Diego had impure thoughts about all of them. Rachel must have known this because she was growing colder and more distant by the week. Lance... well, they were never friends in the first place, but even he had trouble looking at Diego nowadays. This new storyline they were in, the romance, was as much fun for the younger boy as it was for Diego - not a whole lot.

To Diego's surprise, Lance was already in the ring waiting for him when he stepped through the curtain to the arena. It was empty and well lit - they had arrived four and a half hours early to the Albuquerque arena so Diego could train his student where she could have her spies supervise them. Man, he wished Gloria agreed to come and play referee for them. It was dangerous not to have a neutral party with them when they were together. Nearly two dozen backstage crew members were setting up the rest of the arena - they assembled the ring first on Michelle's orders so Diego and Lance could use it before the show.

"Hello, my lover," Lance teased him, sitting on the ring apron with his legs crossed. The words made him shudder.

"Olá," Diego rolled his eyes. "You know the rules. We don't have to talk about that."

"Why don't you speak Portuguese more?" Lance continued with his impertinence and that irritating grin. "Even when you're swearing at me and thinking I don't know what you're saying. It's the bee's knees."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Diego almost turned a shade of pink. When will you learn your lesson? Stop underestimating him. He spoke his next few lines in his native tongue. "I can if you like. There is no point though if you won't understand me - but you apparently understand more than you let on."

"No, most of that went over my head," Lance narrowed his eyes. "I just taught myself the naughty words so I'd know when you were horrid to me." Diego found that funny and began to laugh. Lance pursed his very red lips, but they did curl into a smile.

"Did you do that for every language, or just for me?" Diego asked, and Lance chuckled.

"I tried to learn them in Cherokee too, just in case Sean got any ideas," Lance shrugged. "But he wouldn't teach them to me. I guess he's keeping that card for later."

"Well, you got through two matches with him, and nobody got hurt," Diego pointed out, and Lance looked down at his nails. He looked ashamed. "Come on. I want you to take a couple of bumps before the show starts."

"Bumps?" Lance's eyes immediately snapped to his. "You want to hurt me?"

"You can't wrestle if you can't take bumps," Diego explained as bluntly as he could. "I'm not going to throw you through a table, you know. This is basic stuff. You know how to land safely, right?"

"Of course I do," Lance muttered defensively, slipping under the bottom rope and getting to his feet. Diego scaled the steps, then he leapt with some agility over the top rope and landed on both feet. He was medically cleared to compete, now, but he was still wearing the knee brace. He hated it, but it gave him some security. An injury doesn't just happen to one part of the body; it etches itself into your mind. Diego was now going to be worried about his knee for the rest of his career. Would he reinjure it? Would it be a problem for him? The knee brace boosted his confidence and let him feel safer in the ring.

"Then you don't have a lot to worry about," Diego shook his left knee. Nope, it felt good. No pain, just some very mild discomfort - and he wasn't even sure if it was real or echoes from his mind. "You'll be fine, alright?"

"Maybe I won't be, though," Lance pointed down at Diego's brace. "You've been doing this forever, and you still hurt yourself. How am I going to stay safe in here? I'm scared."

"You know," Diego leaned against the ropes, bouncing back and forth on them. Man, it was good to be back. "It's nice when you're honest like this."

"Wicked, but that doesn't make me feel better," Lance held his face.

"You're a professional dancer, aren't you?" Diego asked after a pause. "Like, you were on television."

"Yeah, but you know that," Lance eyed him off. "I've been taking classes since I was six. I was the winner of So You Think You Can Dance in 2014 and runner-up in Strictly Come Dancing in 2015. What about it?"

"And that's all choreographed, right? You have a routine and you stick to it?" Diego began to arrive at the point he was trying to make.

"Yeah," Lance was starting to see what he was getting at.

"And not just anyone can do that. It takes years of practice and commitment to get that good, and you did it. Wrestling isn't a whole lot different, you know. A lot more physical, but you're still putting on a show with your opponent. For you, I don't know why it's not just a different type of dance," the Brazilian man pointed out, and Lance's eyes began to soften. "What would you do if you were learning another type of dance? Wouldn't you get over it and start doing it?"

"Yeah," Lance looked him in the eye. "I guess."

"So stop being scared," Diego began bouncing on his feet. He was anxious to get started. "It'll all come to you a lot quicker if you're not frightened to commit. Just think of it as another kind of dancing. You need to get over this mental block."

"What if I don't?" Lance asked timidly, and Diego shrugged.

"Then we'll keep coming back until you do," he replied. "Pull yourself together, Lovecraft. If you weren't cut out for this, you would have gone by now. If the only reason you're here is to be a pain in my ass, then so be it."

Lance grinned at him and exhaled deeply. "What do you wanna do?"

"I'm gonna hurt you," Diego smirked. Maybe there were perks to this training after all. "You're gonna hit the canvas, and you're gonna sell it. When you get knocked or slammed down, you're so scared of it hurting that you look ridiculous on the camera. You need to be okay to hit it hard. Come on. You can trust me, okay? When we're in this ring, we're family. I'm gonna do everything I can to keep you safe. Here. Let me show you. Scoop slam."

"Alright," Lance walked up, and Diego picked him up effortlessly, then flipped the boy over and threw him down on his back - not as rough as he might in a match, but hard enough so that Lance would feel it when he hit the mat. The boy instinctively braced himself and hit as softly as he could. No, that's not good enough.

"Again," Diego shook his head. "Sell it, Lance. This is part of the dance. You need to make it look real."
The boy hopped back up to his feet and let Diego grab him again. Diego did the same thing - he hooked Lance around the leg, flipped him upside down and threw him back down on the canvas. Still, Lance braced himself and barely hit the ground. Diego sighed. This was going to take a while, but he was determined to make it happen.

"Again," Diego commanded. Lance did as Diego told him. The bigger man threw him down again, and again, and again, but Lance was too frightened to take even that small bump.

"I suck at this!" Lance wailed after the fourteenth attempt, but Diego fought his desire to rub salt in the kid's wounds. "I'm so used to defending myself that I can't stop! Argh!"

"What do you mean?" Diego asked, realising implications from what the kid just said. "I'm not attacking you. Why are you defending yourself?"

"Ugh, look at me, Diego," Lance snapped angrily at him. "People have been sending me arse over tit long before you have! It's my instinct to want to protect myself, even here with you, even when I want to turn it off and hit the mat. I can't do it! You're wasting your time. I'm too broken. Grrrr."

"Do you really think that?" Diego asked gently. For the briefest of moments, Lovecraft wasn't stupid Lance from stupid England. He was Julian. The frightened little kid who was a punching bag for the way he looked. For Julian, that was because he looked like his father. For Lance, it was because he looked like a drag queen. Diego felt pity and affection for him that he'd never felt before. He put a hand on Lance's shoulder, and the boy looked at it, confused.

"I don't see how I can get past this," Lance sniffed. "Last Tuesday, someone threw their drink at me because I wore a crop top and they threatened to kill me. Only last Tuesday. I never feel safe anymore, not without my dad here. I miss him so much."

"He's proud of you, isn't he?" Diego remarked, even smiling a bit. If Julian turned out like Lance... I'd still love him. I only... I don't want him to go through what Lance has. I don't want him to go through what Luiza did.

"I don't know why," Lance laughed and wiped his eyes. "All I've done is make life harder for him."

"If you ever have kids of your own, you'll understand, I think," Diego removed his arm and took a step back. "I'll bet you were a much easier kid than Jilly is, and she's still my whole world. Give yourself more credit, will you? You're twenty-two, you've been modelling since you were a teenager and you've had a stellar dancing career already. Even if you decide you don't want to be a wrestler, your dad loves you."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Lance asked him. "It's cooked."

"All this stuff with my son's given me a new perspective on a few things," Diego explained, being completely honest. "Especially when you told me someone was hitting him. You knew it the moment you saw Julian, and it was because people have always been hitting you. I saw that white trash prick shove you right in front of me the night I became champion. And... you still keep on being you. Between us, even though I don't understand you or why you do the things that you do, I think you're probably the bravest kid I've ever met, and if Julian grew up to be like you, I'd be proud of him."

"Oh... thank you," Lance barely whispered his reply. "I want to be a wrestler," he asserted a few seconds later, now starting to smile. Good. He looked less like a gargoyle when he smiled, with all that ridiculous makeup.

"Then you need to take bumps, so now that we know where each other stands, let's get you taking bumps," Diego returned to the drillmaster he was better at being. Acting as a father figure for Lance was way too weird and he liked it more when they hated each other.

"How long will we be doing this?" Lance asked, bouncing back and forth on his feet in preparation. You can do it, kid. I'll make sure of it.

"Until you're not scared anymore."

"What if that takes forever?"

"Then we'll be here forever, won't we?"

Thanks to everyone who reads anything I post, particularly To The Stars, which is currently my favourite thing to write.  You guys rock!
I intended to take a longer break from this story, but I missed it too much!