UWA World Heavyweight title, FILL Heavyweight title, WCW World Tag Team title, and the JCW Heavyweight title, they all hung on the wall, gleaming in the warm sunlight that shone through the windows of yet another apartment. Ian Hodgkinson stood back gazing at what, any other person in his profession, would cosider a good resume. To Ian, though, all those peices of gold represented was loss. Loss of time, loss of health, and loss of love. He’d spent the last eleven years of his life chasing swaths of gold, when he should have been chasing the only thing in his life that had ever truly meant anything to him. The man known the world as Raven, but known to Ian as Scott Levy.

It was around 1998 when a young kid, known only as Vampiro, walked into the backstage area of WCW. He’d landed his first contract with a major organization, and quickly came to realize that the boys in the back had never encountered anyone like him before. He had tattoos all over his body, his face was made up to look like some kind of zombi, his hair was in long stringy braids that fell in his face, and he was completely dressed in black. It didn’t take him long to realize that he wasn’t going to be well received in the back. That didn’t bother him too much, though, he knew once he got in front of the crowd and was able to shine, everyone would warm up to him. He didn’t get worried until two months later when he still hadn’t stepped through that curtain.

Frustrated, Ian paced through the locker room on most nights, wondering if the money was really worth it. On the night of June 16, 1998, he’d decided it wasn’t. He grabbed his gear, which he didn’t even bother to unpack anymore, and headed out of the locker room to go tell management he quit. That’s when he heard the words that would change his life, although he didn’t know it at the time. “Is it because they’re not using you, or because everyone thinks you’re a freak?” The voice was smooth and low, sending undesired shivers up Ian’s spine. He turned around to see who was talking and couldn’t see anyone there. He turned back around and started back down the hall. “You didn’t answer my question Ian.” The voice said again with the same smooth, low tone as before.

“How the hell did you know my name?” Ian said, spinning on his heels and dropping his gear, once again noticing that no one was there. “I haven’t told anyone my name.” He said, feeling a little foolish, talking to the shadows. He waited a few seconds for a response. The only noise that he heard was the roar of the crowd from the arena. “Show yourself.”

A figure stepped out of the shadows, clad in blue jean shorts, a t-shirt with some skulls on it, and a leather jacket. “I know your name becuase, unlike the blithering idiots we have to associate with in this business, I know how read. You were the UWA World Heavyweight Champion in Mexico, you’ve worked in Japan, and you’ve worked countless independent shows. Oh yes, Ian, I know your name.” The man said, still keeping his face in the shadows.

Ian knew who it was the minute he laid eyes on the mans body. “If you must know, Scott, it’s both.” Ian said, knowing he’d never get away from the infamous Raven if he didn’t answer the man’s question. “I’m tired of just sitting back here with my thumb up my ass. I came here to work. And sittin’ back here isn’t a whole hell of a lot of fun when no one talks to me. So it’s both.”

Scott stepped out of the shadows, showing his face for the first time. His highlighted, curly hair fell around his hardened face and seemed to soften it a little. The light gleamed off the ring through his eyebrow, and his eyes told of horrors that most men pray they never encounter. That’s what Ian found so remarkable about the man that stood before him. He’d willingly put his body, mind, and soul through tortures that most people couldn’t even fathom, and still had the ability to stand there, dripping with sex appeal. “Tonight, you stay with me.” Scott said, putting his hands in his pockets. “I believe I can convince you to stay.” He stepped back into the shadows, leaving Ian to stand there and wonder what lay ahead of him that night.

The alarm on Ian’s cell phone tore him away from his memories. “TNA.” He said, outloud, when he looked at his phone. He went to the kitchen, got himself a beer and flopped down on his couch, seizing the remote. Scott hadn’t been on TV since the whole ‘firing’ angle went down, but Ian watched religiously every week, just hoping to see a glimpse of the man he used to call his. He was especially looking forward to tonights show. He’d gotten a call from James Mitchell earlier in the week, telling him he needed to watch the show.

It didn’t take Ian long to figure out why. The news that Raven had been reinstated rang in his ears like a gong, the vibrations carrying through to his dick as he watched Scott come through the crowd. He looked a little out of shape, but Ian couldn’t have cared less. His true love was on the screen. That’s all that mattered. Disappointment sat in when the show was over and Ian hadn’t gotten another look at Scott, but he had work to do. He finished off his beer and started packing more things up.

Ian had always hated moving, but he’d always thought there was no use in staying somewhere too long also. “I don’t even know why I bother to unpack anymore.” Ian said to himself as he opened his closet door. This was the last of it. After the closet it would be all packed up. All he had to do then was load the u-haul, and he was on to the next town. He was just about finished when he pulled a leather jacket out of the back of the closet. He literally had to sit down as emotions and memories flooded his soul.

“Scott, you’ve been beating yourself up for years.” Ian said, laying in bed and watching Scott pack his bag. “Why do you have to go?”

Scott put the final things in his bag and zipped it up. He looked up at Ian and saw the sadness etched on his face. That was a look he was becoming all to accustomed to seeing. It was there every time he had to leave. He crawled back onto the bed, straddling Ian’s hips and bent down kissing him softly on the lips. “Because, they need me.” Scott said, placing a finger over Ian’s lips to silence his protests. “I told them I’d be there, so I have to go.”

Ian kissed Scott’s finger. “But I need you too.” Ian said, pouting in a way that would have had any Vampiro fan laughing their asses off. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Angel, you know you’re the only one that matters to me.” Scott said, laying another kiss on Ian’s lips. “But, we go through this every time. You know I have to go.” Scott got off the bed, feeling Ian tugging on his cloths, trying to get him back into bed. “It’ll only be a couple of weeks and I’ll see you again.” Ian watched as Scott picked up his bag and headed for the door. “Walk me out?”

Ian got out of bed, throwing on a pair of boxers, and walked Scott to the door. He figured he had one chance at this. Before Scott could open the door, Ian pressed his weight against him and kissed him, passionately. The kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else, except the one that’s in front of you. Their hands roamed freely over the other’s body. When the kiss broke, both men were flush and their chests heaved against each other, their lungs desperately needing air. “Stay.” Ian said, hoping passion would be enough to keep his love there.

“I’ll see you in two weeks.” Scott said, opening the door. “Three tops.” He kissed Ian and was out the door.

Ian turned around, and saw Scott’s leather jacket laying on the couch where it was haphazardly tossed the night Scott had showed up. Ian picked it up and could still smell the scent of Scott all over it. When they’d first started out, it was just about the sex. But somehow, on this crazy journey they were both on, it had turned into something more. It had turned into love. Ian put the jacket on and laid down on the couch, drifting off into sleep and wondrous dreams of a life with Scott.

The pain in Ian’s heart, knowing that was the last time he’d seen Scott ripped him from his memories. He fell asleep that night holding that leather jacket, breathing in the scent of Scott that clung to it as desperately as Ian did.

The next morning Ian awoke, knowing he had a lot of work to do. It took him until dusk to load his belongings in the truck. “Canada’s gonna be cold.” He said to himself as he threw the jacket he’d slept with last night in the passenger seat. He shut the back doors on the truck, got in the driver’s seat, and sat there for a few minutes. The pain in his heart could not be denied. “Who am I kidding?” He said to himself again, snatching up the atlas that lay just beneath the jacket. “Atlanta, here I come.”