Permanently at Square One

Darcy Quinn ventured out the fire exit of the FCW building, mindlessly heading in the direction of her safe place. The secluded corner had become her place of solitude since being signed to a developmental contract, hidden away from the world and prying eyes.

As she walked towards her spot, she saw two feet, crossed at the ankles, poking out from behind the wall. The realisation that someone else knew of her secret almost made her search the outside of the building to find somewhere else to smoke and be free.

"You just gonna stand there or are you gonna to join me?" She had only ever heard the voice in passing and on television; it had always sent a chill down her spine. Smoke appeared, seemingly out of thin air, from head height.

Darcy pushed her shoulders back and, as confidently as she could, walked up to her space, stepping over the outstretched legs of Jon Moxley and leaning against the stone adjacent to him. Cigarette smoke filled her nostrils, she could taste it in her mouth, and she craved one of her own even more than before.

She patted down the pockets of her pants, digging into the left one for a packet of cigarettes. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Moxley looking down at her, watching her as she drew one out of the box. Placing it in her mouth, she repeated the process of patting down her pockets this time to find her lighter.

"Fuck sake," she grumbled to herself, the sound muffled as she tried to keep the cigarette between her lips. Before she could even ask, a hand appeared in her face and flicked a lighter, a flame dancing in the wind before her eyes. "Thanks."

"Harlequin?" He drew her attention with the use of her old ring name. She had never used it in an actual match but it had become part of her. A few appearances at Ring of Honor as a devout fan of The Briscoe Brothers gave her a certain amount of exposure. Despite that, she shook her head and finally looked up at him.

"Darcy's fine," she corrected him, as she became intimidated by his imposing stature. He stood over a foot taller than her and had more than 100 pounds on her. He could easily have snapped her body in two. Averting her eyes to the wind beaten trees, she swallowed the lump in her throat. "Moxley?" she knew that he had been going by Dean Ambrose since he had been signed but she held the name Moxley dear to her heart, a reminder that the best started on the independent circuit.

"Sure." Goosebumps broke out on Darcy's skin, a combination of the bitterly cold breeze and the roughness of his voice. "You Graves' girl?"

The question didn't confuse her nor did it shock her. Corey Graves, or Matt Polinskey as she called him, was one of few friends she had in FCW and the assumption was often made that they were closer than they let on.

"Not his girl, no." The implication being that she did have a boyfriend and the tone of her voice letting him know that the issue should not be pressed.

Nothing else was said; Darcy and Moxley smoked their cigarettes in silence. Every so often Darcy would look to him discretely thinking that she should probably try to make a new friend. It was no use, though. Darcy felt like an outsider even with all the diverse personalities FCW had to offer. Not one person would truly understand her.

It did not surprise her at all when five minutes later Moxley dropped the last of his cigarette, grinding it into the concrete and without a word he turned his back on her and walked back towards the fire exit.

Darcy's only regret was that she hadn't asked for his lighter.

When she stepped back into the building, cigarette smoke clinging to her clothes and breathe, she took note of the quieting laughter. At 14 her uncle had told her she sucked all the happiness out of a room, 8 years later she still had that ability.

She made sure to hold her head high knowing that hanging her head could have been seen as a sign of fear. She had been on the receiving end of worse hazing at Ring of Honor's Wrestling Academy. The super models and pretty boys giving her evil eyes were the least intimidating thing she'd ever been subjected to.

What she didn't understand was that they were still doing the same thing 6 months after she'd been signed.

"Darcy that better not be you smelling like a damn ashtray." Like a deer caught in the headlights, Darcy's eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up dramatically. She turned to Tom Prichard slowly and wearily. Few people scared her, he was one of them.

"I thought I was finished for the day, sir," she responded cautiously hating that everyone around had turned to look at them.

"And what made you think that?"

"It's 2.30 and you told me I was in from 9 until 2?" It came out as a question because she knew better than to argue outright with her trainers. Tom stared at her and just from the look in his eyes she knew what was coming next.

"Suicides." Darcy sighed in frustration, rubbing hands over her face roughly. Tom pointed at the section dedicated to such drills and Darcy marched over obediently, pulling her coat off as she went. "Five minutes. Go."

Darcy did her best to ignore everyone who was watching her. They all got some sick satisfaction out of seeing her in pain so she wasn't going to show any. She was going to run.

She had barely done three sprints when Tom spoke again, is voice bellowing over the quiet whispers of the observers. He wasn't speaking to her, though.

"Ambrose! I can smell that smoke from over here." He pointed towards Darcy. "You're going to join Miss Quinn."

Darcy felt Moxley's presence when she returned to the starting line and was unusually comforted when he started to run the second she did.

"Let this be a reminder to everyone that if you want to smoke you do it on your own time. You do not do it near my building; you do not do it during my time. Stop."

Moxley and Darcy halted at the starting line. Darcy could feel her lungs starting to hurt but she stood up straight, resisting the urge to bend over and wheeze. Moxley didn't seem to be having the same problem, he looked absolutely fine. Darcy stole quick glance at the people watching her, they all looked delighted to see her running suicides.

They were told to start again. Darcy was always a few steps behind Ambrose – his legs were longer than hers and she convinced herself that that was the reason – and by the time Prichard told them to stop again he had lapped her.

He looked at her, noticing the dramatic heaving of her chest and the masses of sweat beading on her forward.

"You okay?" he asked her under his breath, making sure no one else could hear.

"Fine," she responded in the same manner. She felt like she was going to vomit up a lung and she just wanted the five minutes to be over.

"Again!"

At the next break, Darcy quickly pulled off her sweatpants; they were weighing her down and causing her to heat up. Someone wolf whistled when she stripped down to her shorts and revealed a large crow surrounded by red poppies on her right thigh. She didn't look up to see who it was; she kept her eyes on the end line.

The last one began and Darcy could feel her stomach churning, she knew she was ready to vomit but she couldn't stop. Stopping would mean having to run again. Her heart was pounding uncontrollably, adding to the need to vomit, and Moxley was still running laps around her.

"You're done. Darcy, you are now finished for the day. Do not light up until you are at least 300 yards away from this building."

She couldn't respond verbally but she nodded. With one quick motion, she picked up her sweatpants and her bag and ran back to the fire exit. Three steps outside and she vomited against the wall. The movement caused her to start coughing as well, leading to a horrendous mixture of both.

She could feel her heart and lungs trying to crawl out of her chest, wanting to get away from the pain she was in.

When the door opened a few minutes later Darcy half expected to see Moxley smirking at her, telling her that she was weak and wouldn't last much longer if she reacted to suicides that way. She was much relieved to see Seth Rollins looking down at her.

"Damn, Harlequin." In any other situation he would have dropped down beside her but the pool of vomit kept him on his feet.

"I feel so gross, Colby."

"I know but you should put your pants on at least. Probably shouldn't show anyone anything else."

She obeyed and slowly pulled her sweatpants on, taking care not to step in her own vomit. She was breathing less erratically and felt that she had nothing less to spew up so she moved to another wall. The door opened again, both she and Colby turned, seeing Matt walk out carrying a bottle of water.

"Thought you might need this." He handed it to her, kneeling in front of her, his hands resting on her knees. "I think we should move you out tomorrow, what do you say? You can just rest tonight."

"I'm not broken," she grumbled, swatting his hands away. She drank half the bottle of water in one shot.

"No, but you're exhausted and need rest," Matt told her sternly. "Ashley's offered to drive you home, okay?"

Darcy groaned but knew she was in no position to argue. She pushed herself up, using the other half of the water bottle to clear away her vomit. Colby held the door open for her, handing her bag as she passed.

"I have to get back, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Thanks, Colby," Darcy said with a small smile. Matt followed her to the front of the building here Ashley Miller – Audrey Marie – was waiting for her patiently. "You don't have to do this."

"It's fine, I was on my way home, anyway," Ashley assured the blonde. "You aren't going to vomit in my car, are you?"

"I think I got it all out," Darcy grimaced slightly, the taste of vomit still lingering around in her mouth.

She followed Ashley to her car after saying goodbye to Matt. She was thankful she had someone to take her home – saving her the half an hour walk back to Matt's house. She wasn't entirely sure she would have made it. Ashley had proven to be her only female friend at FCW. She was the only person not entirely put off by Darcy's anti-social attitude.

"You did well to not give up," Ashley commented, the sound of her car starting bringing Darcy out of her thoughts.

"Running alongside Moxley makes it pretty damn impossible to give up. Besides, no one would let me live it down."

"Everyone's shocked. You looked green long before you stopped. I'm surprised you didn't vomit all over Jon." Darcy laughed at Ashley and relaxed back into the seat.

"Who whistled at me?"

"Bo Dallas. Can't believe he was the only one, most of them have a teenage boy's mentality."

"Good to know I can feel like utter shit and still get that reaction," Darcy smirked to herself.

"You took your pants off; those boys were looking at your ass and legs not how green you were."

The short drive ended with Ashley telling Darcy to look after herself as they stopped outside Matt's house. Darcy had been sleeping on his couch since she moved to Florida in November, right after being signed to a developmental contract. The plan was to move her out of Matt's and into Colby's that day but neither man thought it was a good idea to move her if she was feeling unwell.

She let herself into the apartment, throwing her gym bag to the side and moving to the couch, flopping down onto it instantly.

"Fuck me."