Targets - A Roman Reigns AU Story

17. bridge//:over_troubled.water//:

Seth stared at the man sitting across his breakfast table. "This whole thing is fucking crazy, you know that, right?" he remarked. "I mean, what are the chances of shit like this happening in real life?"

Roman idly stirred the glass of Scotch in his grasp. "Well, it's happened to me. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo," he replied listlessly.

"So...what? Was she in on this from the start? Did she always know who you are?" Inspecting the firearms lined up on the table, Seth picked up the AK-47 and began cleaning it.

Roman could hear the question beneath the question; how on earth did one of The Authority's best men fail to detect a rival from right under his nose for this long? He didn't even want to find out the answer. He felt like an idiot. He felt like a blind man that had miraculously recovered his sight but hated what he was seeing. He almost wished he was blind again. Truly, ignorance was bliss. "I cannot fucking believe that woman," he lamented, his hair swinging limply around him as he shook his head.

"How do you think she kept this from you for this long?" Seth questioned, "You two have been together for what? Six, seven months?"

"Eight and a half." Roman gazed blankly at the table. "I can't believe she's been lying to me all this time."

The Architect raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You haven't exactly been playing straight yourself, have you now?"

"That's completely different!" the Samoan defended hotly, the first real sign of life he'd displayed since stumbling through Seth's door a few hours before. "I dated her because I actually liked her. I thought she was the only sane thing in my life, the only normal thing I had going for me. And now it's all gone to shit."

Seth took in his friend's morose, disheveled expression. Boy oh boy. The big man was a mess. He was hurting, and hurting bad. Very, very few people got to witness the great Roman Reigns in this unstable state and to Seth, it was kind of fascinating. "Go to bed, man. You're upset. Sleep on this. I'll set up the guest room-"

"Upset?" Roman shot, his features dark with anger, nostrils flaring. "My girlfriend just tried to kill me!"

With a shrug, Seth retorted flippantly, "Well, according to you, you nearly bashed her brains in with a champagne bottle. Of course she was going to react."

"No, Seth, she brought a bomb into my house," Roman reminded him. "That means she planned to blow me up regardless." Pushing the glass of Scotch away from him, he leaned back in his seat and cursed loudly at the ceiling.

"Look, Roman, I know what it looks like, but trust me when I say that Jasmine is probably just as upset and confused are you are right now. She's vulnerable, hurt-"

Roman gaped at his colleague, lifting his arms in exasperation. "Dude, whose fuckin' side are you on?"

"Yours. Always," Seth promised. "But I still think you need to sleep on this. You can't focus properly in the state that you're in."

Shaking his head, it was clear to Roman that Seth hadn't grasped the reality of this situation. "You don't get it, Rollins. Jasmine ID'd me. On a hit. You know what that means."

Seth's expression slowly darkened. He did. Roman nodded, having put his point across successfully. "Exactly."

Both men exhaled deeply, their shoulders slumping in resignation. Roman leaned forwards and placed his hands on his head. He was in fifty shades of agony right now.

"Well, this shit is on you. So what are you gonna do?" Seth broke the silence. "How are you going to find her?"

"Easily," said Roman. "Remember that tracking device Corbin used to tab the Charlotte girl?" Seth nodded. "Well, he gave me one, and I happened to have it on me when Jasmine showed up at my place." He recalled the moment he took down Jasmine; how he'd slipped it seamlessly into her hair tie as they struggled on the ground. He had known she was going to make a run for it, and was disheartened to see that she had proved him right.