THE SECOND SET OF HANDS
Late Night
LJ & Ally’s Bedroom
Las Vegas
The past few days had been a wild one since what happened to Carter. Kevin had been over a lot more to hang with Ash or they would go over to make sure that things had been settling. It had become almost second nature for them now.
But for now, the apartment was quiet in that way it only ever got after midnight, the kind of quiet that settled into your bones and made the rest of the world feel far away. Outside, Vegas kept humming, bright and loud and relentless, but in here? It was just soft lamp light, tangled blankets, and Ally sitting cross-legged on the bed like she was preparing for war.
The puzzle box sat in front of her.
Her hair was a little messy, cheeks flushed in that cute frustrated way LJ secretly loved. She’d been at this thing every day since Christmas. Every. Single. Day. And the box was still winning.
“I swear this box hates me,” Ally muttered for the fiftieth time as she slid one of the carved panels again and hit the same dead stop.
LJ stretched out beside her, ribs for the first time free of the bindings, a soft t-shirt clinging to him. He’d finally finished a late-night workout and shower, and now he was propped against the headboard, watching her do battle with the gift he’d absolutely chosen out of pure chaotic love.
He smirked, “I repeat, love...You wanted something challenging.”
“I wanted a puzzle,” she corrected, glaring, "Not a wooden demon forged in hell specifically to ruin my life.”
“I mean...if the shoe fits....and I do have a name you know.”
She shot him a warning glare. He raised his hands in surrender, which jolted his ribs a bit, but he didn’t show it.
Ally huffed, turning the box and running her fingers along the grooves again, "I’ve tried this angle, and this one, and that one, and the weird corner twist thing, and it still won’t do anything. I’m about to throw it at the wall.”
LJ reached out and gently caught her hand before she could act on that impulse, “Hey,” he said quietly, "Look at me.”
She did.
He tapped the box once with his knuckle, "Did you ever think maybe you’re not supposed to do it alone?”
Her eyes narrowed, "What does that mean? You said I could solve it.”
“I said it’s meant to be solved,” he corrected, lips tugging upward, “I didn’t say one person had to solve it.”
She blinked, "LJ... did you seriously get me a puzzle that requires two people? Who the hell does that?!”
“I do. AND in my defense...” he said, leaning closer, “I thought it was romantic.” She stared at him like he was ridiculous, but softening. He shrugged, "Sometimes you need another set of hands. You don’t have to do everything on your own, angel.”
Something flickered in her expression, something warm, something that understood exactly what he wasn’t saying out loud, "...Alright,” she said finally, "Show me.”
He took the box and placed it between them on the bed, "You already figured out most of it. You just keep getting stuck at the same place.”
She groaned, "Yes. The same stupid slide that won’t move.”
“Because it won’t move unless you hold this side,” he said, tapping the far edge, “While I push this part here.”
She froze, "You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Ready?”
“Ugh, fine.” She reached over and held the panel he indicated, fingers steady. LJ pressed his thumb to the opposite side and gave a gentle push.
Click.
Her head snapped up, "What the...did that just...LJ, it moved. It finally moved!”
“Yeah,” he said, trying not to grin like an idiot, "It’s a two-person mechanism.”
“That is so stupid,” she said instantly, but she was smiling, "I can’t believe you picked the one box that needed teamwork.”
“Actually I picked the one box that reminded me of us.”
She went quiet at that. They shifted, working through the next sequence, her sliding a piece while LJ held tension on another. Each movement unlocked a new shift. The box slowly began to unfold, pieces gliding into new shapes like some intricate wooden origami.
Her voice softened, "I can’t believe you did this.”
He chuckled, "You said you wanted something meaningful.”
“I didn’t say ‘give me something impossible unless you help me,’” she teased.
“I feel like I’m going to repeat this til the day I die but...You’re the one who asked for a challenge.”
“And you’re the one who turned it into a relationship metaphor, ya big ole sappy jerk.”
“I’m multifaceted,” he deadpanned.
Another click, louder this time, and the lid lifted a fraction of an inch. Ally inhaled sharply, "Oh my God... oh my God, it’s opening...”
She stopped for a moment like she was afraid to look inside.
“Well...what are you waiting for? Go on, this last bit is all you,” he said, voice low.
She reached out with trembling fingers and eased the lid upward. The soft light of the bedroom slipped into the newly opened space. Inside was a small velvet ring box.
She froze.
LJ didn’t speak. He didn’t breathe. He just watched her, heart hammering, ribs aching, chest tight in a way pain had nothing to do with.
Ally’s hands shook as she lifted the velvet box out of the puzzle. She swallowed hard, lips parted, eyes wide. Ally’s breath hitched instantly, sharp, like she’d been punched with surprise.
“...Lyle,” she whispered.
“Open it, Alexandra...please.” he murmured.
Her thumb brushed the lid and flipped it open.
The diamond caught the lamplight, bright, clean, stunning. Timeless. Classic. Beautiful in that way Ally always said she wasn’t, but LJ saw in her every damn day. Undeniably an engagement ring. It wasn’t flashy or ostentatious. Just elegant, the exact kind of beauty that reminded LJ of her, quietly stunning.
She inhaled sharply, hand flying to her mouth, "LJ...”
Her fingers froze above it.
“...Lyle,” she whispered.
LJ swallowed hard. His chest tightened, but it wasn't from the ribs, not from the cold night air seeping through the cracked window, but from the weight of this moment finally landing.
“Oh my god,” she breathed, "LJ... this is...”
He reached out and took her hand gently, steadying her, steadying himself.
“It is what it looks like,” he said quietly, "I want to marry you.”
Her eyes snapped up, wide and overwhelmed.
“But before you panic,” he went on, thumb brushing her knuckles, “I’m not going to rush this by asking you for a date right away. I’m not expecting us to run off and plan a wedding next month. I know our lives are insane, between my brother and Carter, all of the travel, the ring, Ashlynn, law school starting back up... I know timing is a monster.”
He exhaled slowly.
“I’m not asking you for the when.” He squeezed her hand, "All that I’m asking you for is the ‘yes’.”
Ally’s breath caught, a soft, choked sound she tried to hide with a laugh that cracked and trembled.
“LJ...” she whispered, "Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”
She didn’t say anything at first, she just launched herself forward, careful but urgent, burying her face in his neck as her arms wrapped around him. He grunted slightly from the ribs, but he held her tight anyway, burying a hand in her hair.
After a long moment, she pulled back enough to look him in the eye, cheeks wet with tears she wasn’t even bothering to hide.
“Of course it’s yes,” she said, voice breaking on the last word, "Of course. Yes.”
LJ let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
He took the ring from the velvet box and held it between them. One last check, one last chance for her to pull back if she wanted.
She didn’t.
He slid it onto her finger, slow and deliberate, and it fit as though it had been waiting there all along. Ally stared at it, then at him, then back at it, disbelief and joy twisting together into something luminous.
Then she snorted, actually snorted, through the tears.
“People are going to assume we eloped,” she said, wiping her face with her sleeve.
He grinned, cupping her cheek with a warm hand, "Let ’em assume whatever they want,” he murmured, "They always do.”
Her smile softened, "You know I’m not taking it off.”
“I’d be offended if you did.”
She leaned in, forehead pressed to his, breathing him in like he was the safest place she’d ever known.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” LJ whispered back.
And for a few perfect moments, the world outside, Vegas, wrestling, Bill Barnhart, the upcoming war at Inception, law school, expectations, pressure, it all faded. It was just the two of them, a ring, and the knowledge that they were choosing each other, not in the distant hypothetical future, but now.
Together.
For real.
HIGH ABOVE
Las Vegas never slept, but up here, high above the Strip, the noise softened. The sirens, the laughter, the drunken shouts, and the endlessly thudding bass blurred together until it sounded like the city was breathing. The wind was colder on rooftops, too. It cut sharper, wild and restless, whipping LJ’s hoodie against his ribs hard enough to make him wince.
Not that he acknowledged the pain....actually it was a lot more of an annoyance at this point but he would pretend that it doesn’t exist. Not tonight.
He stepped closer to the ledge, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense beneath the dark fabric. His breath came out in a thin fog. Below him, lights bled into one another in streaks of gold, red, and neon blue. Vegas glittered like a jewel, but tonight its beauty felt indifferent. The world didn’t stop turning just because he was hurt or even because he was angry.
Because “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart had pushed him too damn far.
The camera guy he’d asked to follow him waited silently, gloves tight around the equipment, keeping a respectful distance. LJ didn’t look at him. He didn’t look at anyone. He just stared down at the vast sprawl of Las Vegas like he was trying to steady himself on something bigger than his own fury.
Finally, he exhaled, slow and controlled. The kind of breath you take before you choose violence.
“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.
The camera light flipped red and LJ didn’t turn toward it like a performer or a man cutting a promo. He turned like someone fed up with being polite. Someone tired of letting rage sit unspoken in his chest.
He faced the lens fully, blue eyes lit by the reflection of a hundred casino signs below—cold, electric, unyielding.
“...I watched your little video, Bill.” His voice didn’t need volume; the venom carried it, “That hostage-tape-looking thing you filmed in a hotel room with half the background blurred out because apparently the big, scary Bulldog needs the network to hide him from the ‘thugs’ I supposedly hire.”
He let out a small, incredulous laugh, it was sharp enough to draw blood.
“Brilliant start, that. A man who ‘fears nothing’ hiding behind blurred-out scenery like he’s in witness protection.”
The wind picked up, tugging his hair across his forehead, but he didn’t break eye contact with the camera.
“The absolute amazing part of it was...You can’t even make a threat without sounding terrified, mate.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
“And Bea...Holy Christ.”
The bitterness in his laugh deepened.
“Your wife spent half her time calling me vile, backstabbing, a cheater...yet somehow forgetting that the only cheating happening around here is the constant interference every time she waddles to ringside. Bea Barnhart claiming someone ELSE cheats is like a fox accusing the hens of stealing eggs.”
He scoffed, shaking his head slowly.
“And this whole idea that I ‘hire thugs’?” He spread his arms out toward the city, “Look around. I’ve been here the entire time. My life is right here. My family is right here. The only person in this feud who’s attacked someone outside of a match is YOU. The only man who’s jumped me when my back was turned...not once but TWICE is YOU.”
The wind howled against the railing, but LJ’s voice cut through it, razor-clean.
“You want to talk about cowards? Look in the mirror, Bill. You’ll see one staring right back at you.”
He pushed off the ledge and began pacing, each step marked by the hollow thud of his boots on concrete. The camera followed, but he never left its frame.
“You know what, I think I’ll play your silly little game. In your rant, you went on and on about your stats. Your height, your weight and your ‘decades’ of experience. All the championships you won back when people still had those brick-sized camcorders.”
He stopped walking.
“You think any of that matters when you’re chained to me?”
His tone dropped, dark and steady.
“You think thirty pounds saves you when I’m dragging your carcass across the canvas? You think being older means wiser? All it means is that time caught up to you, and you’ve been scrambling ever since. You’ve been scrambling even before my entrance into SCW a year and a half ago, you’re just too fucking stupid to realize that the world has passed you by.”
He tapped his chest once, solid.
“I’ve survived you jumping me on the ramp. I’ve survived you spiking me on the floor. I’ve survived you knocking over a ladder just to ruin what you couldn’t earn yourself.”
He stepped closer until the camera framed only his upper body and the glow of the Strip behind him.
“You still couldn’t STOP me. All of that, that you managed to do, you could only delay me.”
His jaw tightened.
“And that pisses you off more than anything else, doesn’t it?” He leaned forward slightly, voice low. Deadly, "You need me. You need this feud. You need to feel relevant again. Because without me? Without the Kaseys? Without younger, faster, hungrier stars nipping at your heels?”
He smirked, and it was cold and cruel.
“You’re just an old dog with a tired bark.”
A gust of wind blew across the rooftop, but he didn’t move. He just stared into the camera with eyes gone blade-sharp.
“And then you played Bad to the Bone.” He blinked once, slowly, “A 1982 song from a man who looks younger than you right now.”
A harsher laugh slipped out, "That was your pathetic attempt at an intimidation tactic? That’s your war cry? That’s what you think makes you dangerous?”
His expression shifted, not amused anymore. He wasn’t angry really but it was something a lot colder. Something focused.
“No, Bill. The song isn’t the problem.”
He stepped in until the camera had nowhere to look but into the fire of his gaze.
“The problem is you actually believe it.”
Silence stretched for a moment, broken only by the wind and the far-off beeping of taxis on the Strip.
“You talk about being ‘bad to the bone,’ but the truth is simple.”
Another step forward.
“You’re brittle to the bone. Fragile to the bone. AND WAY past your expiration date.”
And then, quieter, “And at Inception? I’ll put you down accordingly.”
He turned slightly, giving the camera a view of the Vegas skyline behind him, bright, endless, alive.
“A dog collar match isn’t about experience, Bill. It’s not about size. It’s not about who used to be somebody.”
He dragged a thumb across his throat.
“It’s about who can drag the other man straight into hell and keep dragging until there’s nothing left to move.”
His voice became a cold whisper.
“And I promise you... I’m not afraid of the dark.”
He straightened, shoulders square, breath fogging in the night air.
“So enjoy your holidays. Enjoy pretending you still matter. Enjoy hiding behind blurred hotel footage and the woman who loves to start fights she can’t finish.”
He paused.
“Because in Las Vegas on January 11th, at Inception...when that chain locks between us?”
A long, lethal beat.
“By the time I’m finished, Bea won’t be identifying you by your face... she’ll be identifying you by whatever pieces of you they can scrape off the mat. Hell...By the time I’m done, Bea won’t need to identify your body... she’ll be denying it ever belonged to her in the first place.”
He lowered his head for a moment, gathering himself—not in hesitation, but in certainty.
“You want to talk about consequences? You want to talk hell? You want to talk about how you fear nothing?”
He looked up again, eyes burning.
“When I’m finished, Bill...you’ll wish fear had stopped you. And remember, asshole, I didn’t start this shit...but I’m sure a fuck about to finish it.”
LJ backed away from the camera, hoodie whipping in the wind as he walked toward the rooftop door without another word. The camera lingered on the empty rooftop, the neon lights flickering in the distance like they were signaling the inevitable.
