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Lyra ignores the stares, the murmurs, and - worst of all - the looks of pity as she limps back to the locker room. Not only did she fail to get the Intercontinental title back from Becky, but she took the pin.
Maybe she was blinded by her desire to humiliate Becky, as the fellow Irishwoman had her. Perhaps she was distracted by the ever present sting of betrayal from her former mentor, Bayley.
Or maybe she simply isn't good enough.
Lyra quickly stows the thought. She's spoken to Pearce, and she and Bayley will compete on Monday to determine who will face Becky at Summer Slam for the title.
She moves mechanically, refusing to look anywhere but ahead as she returns to the locker room to gather her belongings. When she gets there, however, she realizes that someone has been through her stuff. As if her evening hadn't been bad enough.
Her wings are missing, and her angry thoughts immediately place the blame on Becky. It's exactly the kind of thing she'd do to try and mess with Lyra, though the cowardly Lynch should know better than to piss Lyra off even more than she already has. Bayley, for all her faults, isn't the type to steal her stuff either.
But if not them, who?
Suddenly, an inhuman shriek of pure, unadulterated joy comes from the corridor outside. To the untrained ear, one might think an animal had gotten loose in the building.
But not Lyra. Lyra knows exactly who, not what, that sound belongs to.
You've got to be kidding me.
She runs out into the corridor...and forgets how to breathe.
Tatum is wearing her wings, the feathers fully unfurled as she twirls with the grace of a ballerina, dark hair flowing.
She's beautiful. The Morrigan come to life.
Lyra stars dumbly at her as her stomach erupts in a swarm of butterflies.
"Just like old times!" Tatum cries, the happiest Lyra ever thinks she's heard her, then starts running down the corridor with reckless abandon.
That quickly snaps Lyra out of her reverie.
"Tatum! Today is not the day!" she yells. Tatum doesn't reply, because she knows Lyra will follow her, and Lyra quickly proves her correct.
"Give me those back!" Lyra sprints down the corridor after Tatum, who's laughter only spurs her on, the pain in her body forgotten.
"C'mon, Tatum!"
Lyra tires to sound exasperated, but to her surprise, she doesn't. She feels alive, she feels right. Memories come flooding back, of chasing Tatum across every inch of the performance center, making empty threats both she and Tatum knew would never be carried out.
She forgets all about Becky, Bayley, her title, everything. All that matters to her is Tatum.
Then, a woman steps into her path.
Lyra skids to a halt, the feeling of joy evaporating as she meets the woman's flinty gaze. She's tall, blonde, and vaguely familiar from Lyra's time at the PC. When she speaks, her voice is smooth, but it sets Lyra on edge.
"You don't need to worry about Tatum. She's my family now."
Lyra stares at her, speechless. The woman smirks and glances in the direction Tatum went, before turning back to Lyra.
"Don't worry. You'll get your wings back."
Without waiting for a response, the woman walks away. People are looking at Lyra with confused expressions. She should say something, anything.
"Well, I...I just really need those wings back! She's important to-"
Her brain screams as she realizes her mistake.
"They're important to me! Th-The wings!" she says, but the woman has already left.
Face hot with embarrassment, Lyra storms back to the locker room. She should have said something, should have gone after Tatum. What did that woman even mean?
She's my family now.
Lyra hadn't liked the knowing look in the woman's eyes, the smirk on her lips, the tone of her voice.
What was Tatum doing with someone like that?
The following Tuesday, Lyra visits the performance center.
Now that she's had time to think, she knows exactly what she'll say when she see's Tatum again.
She'll apologise for not staying in touch, and for not coming to see her sooner. Lyra knows Tatum has had a tough time of it ever since she moved from NXT to Raw, but she's been so caught up in her own career that she hasn't had time to keep tabs on what Tatum's been up to.
That will change after today. She's going to be the friend that she always should have been, like Tatum was for her.
When she arrives, Lyra pays a visit to Ava. The general manager has enough on her plate without superstars from other brands showing up unannounced.
To Lyra's surprise, Ava is expecting her.
"These are yours, I presume?" Ava gestures to Lyra's wings, neatly folded on her desk. Lyra frowns as she runs her fingers over the smooth feathers.
"Did Tatum return them?"
Ava shakes her head. "No. Izzi did."
Izzi Dame, Lyra has since learned, is Tatum's mysterious new friend. The word backstage is that she and her other "friends" - Shawn Spears and Niko Vance - are a part of a faction that call themselves "The Culling".
"Is Tatum here?"
Ava hesitates before answering.
"Yes. But, I'd stay away if I were you, Lyra. I know you two have history but-"
"It's not history," Lyra interrupts. "She's my friend."
Ava's warning only spurs Lyra on, and she searches out Tatum, anxiety gnawing at her. Tatum has always been easily mislead, and if she has joined this group, then it's Lyra's responsibility to get her away from them as soon as possible.
She finds Tatum eventually, but she's not alone. She's standing among The Culling, but something's wrong.
Tatum's eyes are cast downward, and she's nursing her arm with one hand. She looks nothing like the Tatum that Lyra saw only days ago, the one she fell so effortlessly for again. Panic creeps into Lyra's chest.
"Tatum?"
Tatum flinches and looks up, her expressive blue eyes, usually so full of light, are red-rimmed. She doesn't say anything, but her lips move like she's trying to formulate words but is unable to speak them. The rest of the group look round at her.
The woman, Izzi, is still smirking. She leans down and whispers something in Tatum's ear. Tatum nods and slowly walks over to Lyra, the group watching her every movement.
Tatum stops just out of reach, her eyes fixed on the ground.
"I-" Tatum's voice is hoarse, and it cracks when she tries to speak. She's been crying. Lyra's throat tightens. She wants to reach out, to take Tatum into her arms and lead her away, but Tatum won't even look at her.
"I'm sorry that I stole your wings," Tatum says, her voice barely a whisper. "It won't happen again."
Lyra swallows. "It...it's okay, Tatum. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled like that. I...I was actually really happy to see you."
Slowly, Tatum lifts her head, and Lyra see's a flicker of something in her eyes, something she didn't realize just how much she'd missed until now.
"And...I owe you an apology, Tatum, because I haven't been here for you. Since I got moved up to Raw, I've been so focused on what I wanted to achieve that I forgot about the things, the people, that really matter to me."
Lyra reaches out.
"I shouldn't have forgotten about you, and I'm so sorry for that."
Tatum stares at her. She doesn't make any move towards Lyra, but her fingers twitch. Lyra steps forward and gently holds Tatum's arms. Tatum winces, but doesn't pull away.
"But things will be different now, Tatum. I promise. You're my best friend friend, and I love-"
Izzi Dame appears, slipping an arm round Tatum's shoulders like a snake.
"Tatum accepts your apology, Lyra," she says, her voice sickly sweet. Lyra doesn't like the way Izzi's arm coils around Tatum like a noose.
"Tatum actually has something else of yours to return," Izzi says. "Don't you, Tatum?"
She gives Tatum's shoulder a gentle squeeze, and Tatum winces again, nodding. She produces a single black feather, no doubt taken from Lyra's wings, and holds it out to her.
Lyra looks from the feather to Tatum, who always loved collecting feathers from Lyra's in-ring gear. She hoarded them like they were the most precious items in the entire world.
"That's okay, Tatum," Lyra says. "You can keep it. I want you to have it."
Tatum's hand begins to shake. She glances up at Izzi, who gives her a stern look and, almost imperceptibly, shakes her head.
Tatum's body is trembling now. The look she gives Lyra is one of pleading. She holds the feather out more insistently.
"Take it. Please."
Lyra slowly takes the feather. Her fingers brush briefly against Tatum's before the other woman snatches her hand away, like Lyra is contagious and might infect her.
"Good girl," Izzi whispers to Tatum, slowly leading her away.
"Wait." Lyra reaches out, grasping Tatum's wrist. The color drains from Tatum's face, turning her complexion deathly pale.
"Lyra-"
"I want to talk to Tatum. Alone."
Lyra glares at Izzi, a brief flicker of annoyance crossing the woman's features before that insufferable smirk returns.
"It's not up to me." She leans in to Tatum's ear again. The hand around Tatum's shoulder taps a finger impatiently. "
"Tatum, do you want to talk to Lyra?"
Izzi squeezes her arm, and Tatum whimpers, quickly shaking her head.
"I didn't think so" Izzi says, trying to pull Tatum from Lyra's grasp. As she does so, Tatum's hand comes away from the arm she was nursing, and Lyra see's the bruise.
Bruises are a common feature for anyone that makes their living in the ring, but this one is fresh. Lyra's eyes widen, anger boiling in her gut.
"Tatum, what-"
"We're done here," Izzi cuts in, her voice cold and sharp. She tries dragging Tatum away, but Lyra won't let go.
"What have you done to her?" Lyra snarls.
"Like I said, she's my family now," Izzi says, her voice void of any familial warmth as they play a macabre tug of war with Tatum in the middle.
"L-Lyra, just go, please."
Tatum sounds desperate. Worse, she sounds afraid, and it tears Lyra up inside to hear her reduced to this.
"No, Tatum. I'm not leaving you with-"
Tatum's demeanor switches so suddenly that it actually frightens Lyra.
"You already left me!" Tatum screams, her words laced with pain than lances straight through Lyra. She stares are her, stunned.
Tatum snatches her wrist back and covers the bruise on her arm.
"You left me all alone!" Tatum rounds on her, eyes wide, not with anger, but heartbreak. Every word appears to hurt Tatum as much as it does Lyra, who's eyes fill with tears.
"No. Tatum, it's not...it wasn't like that-"
"It doesn't matter anymore," Tatum says, her voice like a cold knife in Lyra's heart.
"I have new friends now. I don't need you anymore."
Lyra let's out a choked sob.
"Tatum, please."
Tatum turns and walks away, not looking back. Izzi watches her go, then turns her cruel gaze on Lyra.
"You heard her. She doesn't need you. I wouldn't suggest coming back here again."
Izzi leaves, leaving Lyra all alone. She wipes the tears from her cheeks as her heart thumps painfully against her ribs, Tatum's words echoing inside her skull.
She collects her wings and cries her eyes out in the car, holding the feather to her chest. Every time she closes her eyes, she see's Tatum's face.
You left me all alone!
The memories she has of Tatum are ruined. She tries, but she can no longer see Tatum's wide, beaming smile, the light in her eyes when she saw Lyra's face, the mad, cackling laughter.
It's all gone.
Lyra holds the feather in her hands like it's her only possession, the only piece of Tatum she has left. She lost her, and it's all her fault. If she'd been there for her, if she'd truly cared, then none of this would have happened, and she'd still have the best friend she's ever known.
This is her punishment, Lyra thinks. She lost her mentor, her title, and now her best friend.
"I'm sorry, Tatum," she whispers into the uncaring silence.
"I'm so sorry."