~*~Lights, Ladders, and the Law of O’Connell Christmas~*~
The inside of the house had been perfect for weeks. The tree stood tall in the front window, a real one, fat and full, trimmed in white lights and ornaments that told the story of a family still becoming itself. Baby handprints in clay. A tiny wrestling boot ornament Mal pretended not to be emotional about. One with Máire’s name painted in crooked gold letters that Bella insisted was staying forever. The whole place smelled like pine, cinnamon, and whatever Bella’s mom had baked and left behind “by accident” the last time she visited.
Inside? They had crushed it.
Outside? Outside was where they’d dropped the ball.
Bella hadn’t even realized it until Máire, who was bundled in her pink coat and tiny knit hat before they left for some quick shopping, pressed her hands to the big front window and frowned like she’d just uncovered a betrayal.
“No lights,” she announced solemnly.
Bella paused mid-coffee sip, "What was that, baby?”
Máire turned around slowly, eyes wide with concern, "No lights, Mama. House look sad.”
Malachi froze where he stood, halfway through tying his boots. He glanced out the window, then back at his daughter, then at Bella, "Well,” he said carefully, “That feels like a personal attack.”
Bella bit her lip, "She’s not wrong. I can’t believe we completely forgot about the outside of the house.”
“Well, it is the first year and we have been super busy as of late.”
“Well, we are going out, I wonder if we can find anything.” Bella said with Mal giving her that look that told her she was absolutely nuts for it, “Look, I know that look but it’s not just for me, it’s for your daughter.”
“Ok...ok fine, but just ONE store, I’m not bloody driving all over creation for just a few twinkle lights....”
It was five hours later, a very long long trip to three different stores, a big ouch to the credit card and dealing with an over-caffeinated Bella and Máire who was a bundle of energy in her own right, and Malachi O’Connell found himself on the roof of their wrap-around porch.
The porch roof wasn’t especially high, but it was high enough that Bella had planted herself directly below with her hands on her hips, issuing commentary like a very stressed foreman, “Don’t lean like that.”
“I’m fine.” Mal grunted moving a line.
“You said that last time and you slipped.”
“That was one time.”
“ONE TIME TOO MANY.”
Mal, dressed in a heavy jacket, beanie pulled low, gloves on, carefully clipped another string of warm white lights into place, "You married a professional fighter, Bells. I think I can handle a ladder.”
“Yeah, and I’ve taped ribs on that ‘professional fighter’ before,” she shot back, "You fall, I’m dragging your ass inside myself.”
Máire stood next to her in the driveway, holding Luka’s leash with both mittened hands like it was a sacred responsibility. Luka, the husky menace herself, sprinted in frantic circles every time Mal shifted above them, barking like she was attempting a rescue operation. Thankfully she wasn’t yanking little Máire around.
“Luka thinks you’re in danger,” Bella called up.
Mal glanced down, "Luka thinks the mailman is a threat to national security.”
As if on cue, Luka skidded to a stop and let out a furious bark at nothing.
“See?” Mal added.
The yard had slowly transformed around them. From a glowing reindeer family stood near the walkway to a row of candy-cane lights marked the path to the porch. There was also a cheerful inflatable Santa waved near the front steps, already threatening to tip over every time the wind kicked up. And then there was the 10 foot Abominable Snowman. The inflatable had actually been Mal’s idea.
“I thought it’d be funny,” he’d said.
Now, as the blower kicked on when Bella plugged it in, the massive white creature slowly rose from the ground, blue face stretching into existence, arms lifting in a permanent roar. It was at this point that Luka lost her ever loving husky mind. She barked, lunged, skidded, tried to circle it like it was a living enemy, fur bristling, tail whipping behind her.
“DOG,” Máire shouted excitedly, pointing, "BIG MONSTER DOG!”
Bella laughed so hard she had to lean against the ladder, "Oh my God, she thinks it’s real.”
The Abominable finished inflating, towering proudly over the lawn. Luka planted herself in front of it and barked again and again and again. Mal leaned over the edge of the roof to look, "Is she... guarding us?”
“She is 100% prepared to die for this family,” Bella said, wiping tears from her eyes from laughing at her dog and her daughter losing it.
Máire giggled, the sound bright and pure in the cold air, "Good girl, Luka!”
Luka puffed her chest out like she understood the praise and barked louder.
Mal shook his head, smiling despite himself, "This is my life now. I fight grown adults for a living and lose to inflatable snow monsters.”
Bella looked up at him, lights glowing behind him, snow crunching under her boots, their daughter laughing beside her.
“Pretty good life,” she said softly.
He met her eyes and nodded, "Yeah. It really is.”
Finally, Mal climbed down, stepping onto the driveway as Bella reached out to steady him despite his protests. She brushed snow off his jacket, tugged his beanie down straight, kissed him once, quick and warm.
Máire clapped, "Daddy done!”
Mal spread his arms wide, "Daddy is ALL done. All that’s left is for mama to turn it on. You ready?”
“READY!!! MAMA!!! LIGHTS ON!!!”
Bella quickly ran over to the door, opened it and flipped the switch. The house came alive with warm white lights that traced the porch and roofline. The tree inside glowed proudly through the massive front window, visible from the street like a promise. The reindeer shimmered, Santa waved and the Abominable Snowman loomed triumphantly.
Máire gasped, "WOW.”
Bella crouched beside her, arm around her tiny shoulders, "What do you think, kiddo?”
Máire nodded seriously, "House happy now.”
Mal laughed quietly behind them, sliding an arm around Bella’s waist. Luka barked one last triumphant warning at the Abominable before flopping into the snow, exhausted but victorious.
Bella leaned into Mal, watching the lights twinkle against the night sky. It was their First Christmas in the house. First year like this. It was hard-earned, well-loved, chaotic and perfect. And for the first time in a long time, Bella felt something settle in her chest that had nothing to do with fighting.
Home.
~*~Steam, Scars, and the Things That Don’t Wash Away~*~
The bathroom was warm in that quiet, cocooned way that only happened late at night, when the house had finally exhaled.
Steam fogged the mirror, blurring the edges of reality until the world felt smaller, safer. The only sounds were the low hum of the heater, the gentle slosh of water, and the faint, rhythmic creak of the house settling into sleep. Lavender bubbles piled high in the tub, a ridiculous amount of them, spilling over the porcelain edge like Bella had lost a personal vendetta against moderation. She sank deeper into the bath with a contented sigh, shoulders slipping beneath the surface, muscles loosening one knot at a time.
Blessed the Gods, this felt good.
Her blonde hair was twisted up into a messy bun, a few damp curls already escaping and clinging to her neck. Her skin flushed pink from the heat. For once, there was no rush, no crazy schedule, no wrist to tape and at the moment, no flight to catch. Just warmth and stillness and the kind of quiet she didn’t trust but secretly craved.
Malachi leaned against the bathroom counter, arms folded, still fully dressed in a worn hoodie and sweats, watching her with the expression of a man who knew he’d already lost any argument he might attempt tonight.
“You’ve officially used all the bubbles,” he said mildly amused to watch his wife in the large bathtub. There would be every so often that he would join her but he didn’t think now would have been the time, especially with the 2 year old knowing to wake up at any given moment.
Bella cracked one eye open, "That is completely incorrect, sir. I left some in case of emotional emergencies.”
Mal snorted, "That explains why the bathroom looks like a rabid unicorn exploded in here.”
She grinned, lifting one foot out of the water just enough to flick bubbles in his direction, "You love it.”
“I tolerate it,” he corrected, swiping a bubble off his sleeve, "Out of deep marital devotion.”
“Damndabe lies,” Bella said lazily, "You’re just jealous because I’m warm and you’re not.”
“False. I’m emotionally warm and a few other feelings sitting here watching you..”
She rolled her eyes, sinking again, arms floating atop the foam. For a moment, she let herself just be, wife, mother, woman and not a fighter, not a champion, not a problem waiting to happen.
Her eyes drifted to her left forearm where a scar was faint but permanent. It came from an old barbed wire spot. There was another from a ladder rung that bit back. This was among the myriad of a constellation of smaller marks, some faded, some stubborn, but every single one of them...all earned.
Her gaze moved without conscious permission from her knuckles to her wrists. She took one finger and traced her collarbone take the mental notes of the body she lived in that wasn't broken, but it had been paid for.
Mal noticed the shift immediately. He always did, "You okay?” he asked quietly.
Bella hummed, "Mm. Just... thinking.”
“That’s never ominous at all,” he replied, but his tone softened as he moved closer, perching on the edge of the tub. One hand rested against the porcelain near her shoulder, fingers brushing the water, "What about?”
She shrugged, bubbles popping softly against her skin, "It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“How easy it is to forget.” Her voice was calm, almost amused, "How hard it was to get here.”
Mal followed her line of sight, his jaw tightening just a fraction. He didn’t interrupt, he never did when she got like this.
“I love this,” Bella continued, "Everything that we have. From the house, to the quiet. You and Máire. The crazy dog that loves to bark at inflatable monsters.” A smile tugged at her lips, "I love being... gentle.”
She turned her head to look at him, "But I’m not built for it alone.”
There it was and that caused Mal to exhale slowly, "You don’t have to be just one thing, you know that right?”
“I know.” She reached up, dragging a line of bubbles onto his sleeve deliberately, "But I tried babe. For a long while I tried being nice and I tried playing polite. I’m pretty sure that I even tried pretending that if I just smiled and behaved and waited my turn, things would sort themselves out.” Her hand disappeared beneath the foam, "And instead,” she said softly, “I felt dull.”
Mal didn’t flinch. He nodded once.
“I should have learned this from you....but...peace doesn’t sharpen you,” she went on, "It cushions you and makes you forget where the edges are.”
She shifted, sitting up slightly, water cascading down her shoulders, bubbles clinging to her skin. Steam curled around her like a shroud.
Mal reached out, brushing a damp curl from her face, "And that scares you?”
“No,” Bella said honestly, "What scares me is pretending I’m not dangerous. There were people saying that I had just spent so long playing nicey nice with people that it may have actually cost me chances that I should have had a while ago.”
Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t heavy, and it most certainly wasn’t strained. Just real like it always was between them.
She looked down at her hands again, turned them over, palms up and palms down.
“These hands don’t know how to be delicate when it matters,” she murmured, "Lately it seems like they only know how to endure, how to hold on and how to break things if they have to.”
Mal’s thumb brushed her shoulder, "They also know how to rock our kid to sleep.”
Bella smiled, soft and small, "Yeah, they do.”
There was a moment of silence between them and then something behind her eyes shifted.
It was acceptance of what she had to become. It wasn’t anger, nor bitterness. Just the solid truth that she had to evolve into something more. She leaned back, letting the water reclaim her, closing her eyes and just calculating her next set of moments. When she opened them again, the playfulness was back.
“Hey,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“When I get out,” she said casually, “Can you hand me the wraps from the drawer?”
Mal raised a brow, "Planning a late-night cardio session?”
“Something like that.”
He studied her face for a long moment, then nodded, "I’ll get them.”
She smirked, "You always do.”
When the water finally cooled, Bella stood, stepping out onto the mat, dripping and unhurried. She wrapped herself in a towel, steam rising from her skin like smoke from a fuse finally lit.
Mal handed her the wraps without a word. Their fingers brushed and that was enough. She began winding the fabric around her hands, methodical. Familiar. The motions came without thought, muscle memory clicking into place.
Each layer felt like armor sliding back where it belonged. Mal leaned against the doorframe, watching, knowing better than to interrupt the ritual.
By the time she finished, Bella flexed her hands once..just once.
The Hardcore Queen hadn’t arrived with a roar, she arrived with a quiet certainty.
And somewhere in the house, the woman, the wife, the mother stepped aside, she was not erased or abandoned, but she was simply making room.
Bella met Mal’s eyes, "Christmas is almost here,” she said lightly.
He smiled, "Yeah.”
“And then?” She tightened the final knot, Bella said, calm and deadly, “It’s going to hurt again.”
~*~Rules of Engagement: Sometimes It Has To Be Your Friends~*~
Denver didn’t feel like December and that was the problem. The winter in Denver was supposed to have teeth bared where it didn’t matter how many layers you had on, it was supposed to be sharp.
Instead, the air was dry, thin, and carrying the faint smell of asphalt and pine instead of snow. There was no bite whatsoever, no frost and not even the glimmer of a flurry. It was just a strange, almost defiant warmth lingering in the low fifties, the kind that made people forget it was supposed to be winter at all. There were Christmas lights still stretched across the plaza, glowing uselessly against bare concrete and brick, twinkling without snow to soften them.
Bella stood beneath them anyway. Across the way, people laughed as shoppers hurried by with bags in hand, kids tugging at parents, begging for cocoa or photos with Santa. There was the normal life and festive life.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A message from Mal she didn’t need to read to know the contents of.
You good?
She was and she wasn’t.
The plaza outside the old Denver market hall buzzed with life, street musicians playing off-key carols, tourists lingering longer than they should because the weather let them, kids darting between planters instead of trudging through slush. A massive Christmas tree rose behind her, fully decorated, proud, almost out of place without snow clinging to its branches. Wrapped boxes sat at its base, pristine and untouched.
It was too clean and Bella hated that.
She wore black, boots solid against dry pavement, her coat open just enough to show the wraps on her hands. No gloves tonight....There was no need. The warmth felt wrong on her skin, like the world had forgotten what season it was supposed to be in.
And on top of it all Sunday loomed with Climax Control. The last before Christmas, which was always gimmicked up with unknown stipulations on every match. Of course they were always...well majority of the time...Christmas themed.
She exhaled slowly, watching the breath barely fog, another reminder that things weren’t lining up the way they should.
“Alicia Lukas,” Bella said quietly, tasting the name like a truth she respected, "Wolfslair. Stablemate, which I’m sure some of you guys completely forgot about. Someone that I consider a friend and even a mentor. AND the current reigning SCW Bombshell Roulette Champion. And the woman that I'll be standing across from in a few days, and while her title is not on the line, pride very much in play.”
Bella leaned back against the railing, eyes lifting toward the skyline, toward the mountains barely visible through the haze. Denver always felt like a city that tricked people, thin air, high elevation, things catching up to you faster than expected. It fit her mood perfectly.
“This isn’t about disrespect,” Bella said aloud, voice calm, controlled, "You’ve earned everything you’ve got, Alicia. Every spin of that wheel, every scar you carry.”
Her jaw tightened.
“But you have to know something, I’m done waiting and I’m done giving a shit about people that don’t give a shit about me. We have this unknown match style hangs over us thoughts like a bad idea nobody had stopped yet. Christmas lights wrapped around weapons, tables painted festive red and green, candy canes that snapped instead of sweetened....A holiday theme that would turn cruel the second the bell rings.”
Bella’s mouth curved, but not into a smile, not quite.
“They can make it as cute as they want,” she continued, "They can dress it up and slap tinsel on it and pretend it’s fun. But violence doesn’t care about the season, and as we know pain doesn't give a SHIT about Christmas.”
She stepped closer to the tree, fingers brushing the edge of one of the wrapped boxes. The shiny paper reflected her back at her, fractured, distorted, multiplied. A woman shaped by impact, by endurance, by refusal.
Her scars prickled beneath her clothes, "Every mark on my body is proof,” Bella said softly, "Not of what I lost but of what I survived. I have had to evolve into someone who just puts their entire BEING on the line every single fucking time, without so much as ‘thank you’ nor a ‘fuck you’ from anyone. I know that Mal is worried about me, "
She straightened, shoulders rolling back.
“Alicia, I don’t want to hurt you,” she admitted, "But I will not hesitate, not now. I can’t afford to, not with Inception breathing down my neck and another legend of Kayla Richards being right there waiting on me to slip. Not when everyone seems content to keep me in limbo while Crystal Caldwell and Mercedes Vargas play queen of the mountain with their horrible Telenovela soap opera shit going on.”
Her eyes hardened.
“This Sunday isn’t about friendship or mentorship, it’s about the clarity that I’m still searching for.”
Bella’s fingers flexed inside the wraps, tension finally cracking through her composure.
“Alicia,” she said again, slower this time, heavier, "You’re not just another name on a card to me. You’re someone I’ve watched battle whole ass wars without whining. Someone who never ducked a fight, even when the Roulette wheel damn near tried to ruin her career week after week. You stood in that chaos and you owned it.”
She shook her head once, a faint, bitter smile touching her lips.
“And that’s exactly why this sucks.”
Bella pushed off the railing, pacing now, boots scraping against concrete.
“Because if this were anyone else, I wouldn’t even hesitate. But you?” Her eyes narrowed, "You force me to look at myself. You force me to ask whether I still hesitate when it’s someone I respect. You have ZERO issue in shoving that mirror directly in my face. Especially when it’s someone who stood next to me under the same banner, when it’s someone I’d normally trust to have my back.”
She stopped, dead still.
“And here’s the answer.”
Bella lifted her chin.
“I don’t.”
Her voice didn’t rise. It hardened.
“I won’t pull a punch because we share a locker room. I won’t soften the blow because you’ve been a mentor. I won’t apologize for making a point just because it hurts more when it’s someone I know can take it.”
Her jaw clenched.
“If I’m going to call myself the Queen of Hardcore, if I’m going to walk into Inception with my head high against Kayla, then I don’t get to pick safe opponents. I don’t get to choose comfort. I have to prove that when the line is drawn, I will cross it no matter who’s standing on the other side.”
Bella’s eyes burned now, not with anger but with full resolve.
“So Alicia, understand this,” she said firmly, "This isn’t betrayal...This is brutal honesty. This is me telling you that on Sunday, I’m not your stablemate. I’m not your friend.”
She exhaled once, sharp and final.
“I’m the storm you survive or the one that proves why I wear the crown.”
Bella reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a velvet bag, small and unassuming. She loosened the drawstring and tipped it into her palm. Metal caught the light.
A crown, it was dark steel, jagged, twisted into thorns that looked like they’d tear into flesh as easily as they’d draw blood. It was not remotely elegant. But it was very symbolic.
She held it up beneath the Christmas lights, the warmth of the night and the festive lights doing nothing to soften its edges.
“This isn’t decoration,” Bella said evenly, "This is a statement.”
She lowered it, grip firm.
“I’m coming out with this on because I have fucking EARNED this. When this is over, when the lights are broken, when whatever holiday nightmare they throw at us is finished, I am going to put this on again and I’m going to make my way to Vegas.”
Her gaze burned with certainty.
“Not because I beat a champion and it’s not because I survived another match. But because no one else has paid the price I have as of late.”
Bella lifted the crown just slightly, shadows cutting across her face.
“I am the Queen of Hardcore and I’m going to show everyone that this is a monster that not even her friends can stop.”
The plaza buzzed on, oblivious with all the laughter, music, warmth and Bella turned away from all of it.
Sunday was coming. And even without the cold...
Christmas was still going to hurt.
