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“Why didn’t you lie to them?” The voice drifts through the empty locker room.
For a moment, Nigel can’t even process it. It’s not a question any sane person would ask him. Then he recognizes the voice, and indeed it’s no sane person.
A moment later, the anger hits.
“Why didn’t I lie to them?”
It’s fascinating really, the anger is so all-consuming and yet Nigel feels a sense of clarity he’s never felt before. Maybe he never will again.
“I didn’t lie to them because I didn’t think I needed to. You and I both know I’m in much better shape than you.”
Nigel doesn’t need to look at Danielson to know the prick’s face is some unappealing contortion of guilt and pity. He certainly can’t let that stand. Nobody pities Nigel McGuinness. Especially not Bryan Danielson.
So, Nigel continues, “Plus, and you may have never considered this given everything about you, I consider myself an honest man.”
Nigel’s still standing at the locker, hasn’t yet been able to turn around and look at the man behind him. But he hears the footsteps cross the room, and the man halts merely a half step behind Nigel.
And waits.
Nigel turns to face him. Less than breath between them and Nigel flashes back to –
Blood-stained kisses in quiet, empty locker rooms like this one. Violent and hateful arguments had on car rides, where the root of the problem was the fact that he cared about Danielson’s safety. The final moments of Glory By Honor, Danielson with his godforsaken farewell speech and how even though at the time Nigel still thought he’d get to move forward at Danielson’s side – in the moment Nigel had felt, deep at his core, like he was losing something.
And then Nigel is pulled from his reminiscing by Danielson’s voice.
“All wrestlers are liars. I thought you understood that.”
Nigel barks a bitter laugh. “It’s you who doesn’t understand. You’re not a liar because you’re a wrestler, you’re a wrestler because you’re a liar. Not everyone’s like you.”
And there it is, the crack in Danielson’s façade. Anger steals over his face for a mere moment before the placid calm returns.
This is the moment Nigel strikes.
He meets Danielson’s gaze and calmly says, “And though I am an honest man, because I am not like you, I will do you this one favor.”
Nigel draws a breath. “I won’t tell them what I know.”
For the first time in his career, Nigel sees true and unrelenting panic overtake Bryan Danielson. For a single moment, the victory is sweet.
“Nigel -” Bryan starts, stepping forward like he has somewhere to go only to run smack dab into Nigel’s chest. The contact lasts a fraction of a second before it dissipates.
“I’ve already said I won’t talk. Besides, isn’t this what you wanted? For us to be apart and never see each other again?”
It’s cruel, and Nigel knows it’s cruel. He doesn’t yet know if he’ll regret it in the morning.
Danielson reels back like he’s been struck. “Nigel, that’s not-” But he can’t complete the sentence. Because just as there’s a part of Nigel that yearns to break Bryan’s legs and render him useless in the ring, the dragon has always existed in Bryan. And the dragon has certainly thought about ripping Nigel’s throat out.
Sure, Danielson probably didn’t mean those words. He said a version of them in the last fight they had, twitchy for all the wrong reasons as their time with ROH was drawing to a close.
But for all the mania that was involved in the situation, those words were still a cutting attack. Thrown in Nigel’s face after Nigel dared to say that no matter what happened next, they would always be each other’s best opponent.
For Nigel, a moment and statement of fondness. For Danielson? Apparently, an aspersion on his talent. How dare Nigel McGuinness say Bryan Danielson had already had the best matches of his career. Bryan Danielson has a future. He’s going to wrestle on the biggest stage in all the world and Nigel McGuinness will have nothing to do with it.
(The worst part is, for both of them, that someday Bryan will be right.)
But Nigel was not about to listen to that sort of thing, so Bryan says the dreaded line as Nigel’s walking away.
Two days later, they wrestled on Glory By Honor VIII: The Final Countdown. Bryan did his weird silent apology routine backstage, they went out and had a match neither of them were happy with, and yet.
The future seemed bright again.
Then the rest of it happened.
---
The plan was – Danielson vs. McGuinness. The first Wembley show.
And then Bryan bloody Danielson had to break his fucking arm.
---
Everybody talks about Bryan and Nigel; the young talent coming up in the industry, the men who shared locker rooms with them around the globe.
And every one of them knows what Nigel’s lost.
---
It’s horrifying, the vindication Nigel feels when Daniel Bryan announces his retirement.
But in a way, he feels justified. The London Punk and The American Dragon had been each other’s match. Dragon’s a couple years late, but he’s finally back to Nigel’s level.
Neither of them wrestlers anymore.
---
Wembley, take two.
Two months to go – Nigel’s been dropping hints on commentary for months, and the fans have been responding in precisely the way he hoped. Bryan got through Double or Nothing and Forbidden Door unscathed.
What could stop them now?
---
The issue is, Nigel’s never been able to keep up with Bryan. In the ring, of course, Nigel always knows where Bryan’s going to go. But the rest of the time?
For what feels like endless years he’s been chasing Bryan’s coattails. At first, Bryan was only steps ahead.
But then the gap widened.
And widened.
Now it’s a bloody chasm, and the only constant between them, even as they stand in the same room.
Almost nobody thinks of them as McGuinnes and Danielson anymore. Their names haven’t been tied in the way they once were for many years now.
Which is why nobody thinks to warn Nigel that Daniel Bryan is returning to the ring.
Nigel shatters his television set.
---
Nigel’s attempting to work quietly at his computer when the door opens.
Interest perks up inside him when Swerve Strickland steps through the door.
But Nigel knows better than to show his hand a single moment before he must, these days, and so he merely raises his eyebrows; he gestures for Swerve to take one of the seats across the desk from Nigel. Swerve sits, languid as he drapes himself into a position fit for a king, and Nigel closes his laptop.
Swerve looks at Nigel, holding the silence for a moment, before he speaks.
“I feel I might owe you the courtesy of an apology.”
And that’s not what Nigel expected. Fuck it all to hell and back.
Of bloody course.
Nigel’s good at keeping his cool, at his age, but Danielson always tends to get under his guard even when Nigel can see the blow coming.
And he truly, genuinely, did not see this coming.
So the pain and the anger and the longing shows on Nigel’s face, because it always will, and Strickland looks slightly taken aback.
There’s a level of uncertainty in Strickland’s voice as he continues, “I- wasn’t supposed to be the one delivering this news. I am sorry that you’re learning it from me.”
Nigel leans his elbows on the desk, rests his head on his hands.
“When was this decided?”
“Forbidden Door. They figured Bryan Danielson challenging for the World Title in a possible retirement match would sell tickets. I figured I’d give you a week to get over the worst of the rage before I tried to apologize. I really thought he’d have told you. He said he would.”
The unasked question sits directly in between them. Why didn’t he?
Why couldn’t the patron saint of wrestling itself simply open Nigel’s door and tell him that it was over?
Nigel’s got his theories.
Sighing heavily, he raises his hands and rubs his face.
Finally, he meets Swerve’s gaze. For the first time, Strickland sees The London Punk hiding just beneath the surface as Nigel speaks.
“I appreciate your integrity, Mr. Strickland, in having this conversation with me. Unfortunately, I am not in a fit state for company at the moment, so I’m going to ask you to kindly leave.”
Strickland shifts, and then rises slowly from the chair. He looks at Nigel for a long moment, then says, “I don’t love how this whole thing has gone down, so I’ll tell you this. If I need something in the lead up to Wembley, I plan on giving you a call.”
Nigel nods, unwilling to thank the younger man who’s stolen his final moment of glory, but also unable to overlook the implications of that statement.
The AEW World Champion exits the room.
And there Nigel is.
Alone.
And he can’t help but think, you got your wish Dragon.
Because Nigel McGuinness will always define his career by the matches he had with Bryan Danielson.
But to Bryan Danielson (and to all wrestling history) Nigel is but a mere footnote in Bryan’s story.