Title:  Just Like Bogie And Bacall
Author: Empress
Email: Empress@thewaysideinn.net
Distribution: Empress' Private Library and The Wayside Inn  All others ask first.
Rating: NC-17 - for language, violence, sex, drugs and rock n' roll!  Sounds like a hell of a party doesn't it??
Category: Number 11 in the Behind the Scenes series - sequel to #10 …Makes Us Stronger.
Characters: Hunter/Nan; Edge/Karen; Kevin Nash; Al Snow; Kane; Shawn Michaels; Stacy Kiebler; Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley; Brian "Brun" Elliott; Jack Chilton, other new OFCs; and Dixie the Wonder Wiener Dog!
Spoilers: None.  Takes place during the week of RAW, July 19, 2004 through July 25, 2004.
Warnings: The information listed here about 'Special K' is legitimate and I offer this warning.  Never leave your drink unattended.  Anywhere.  Always go to places like this with a buddy you will also leave with, or at least travel in packs.  'Nan' was lucky.  Very lucky  and only because I control her life. This crap can paralyze you for life, kill you, or at least make you wish you were dead. You can overdose with just one hit.  It is a controlled substance, and possession of it without a license alone can result in sweet long prison terms with a big, ugly, sweaty cellmate named Crunch.  Nice stuff, huh?
Summary: You're kidding right?? This is the Pagan's story.  But you want a summary, I guess I'll give you one.  Edge & Karen show up with a tale to tell.  And Karen's pissed at Edge - oh, like there's a surprise.  (Love ya!  Mean it!)  We have a mystery guest arriving, too.  Steph's a villain.  Kurt's always a villain, mainly because he's so good at it.  Kane's been screwed over and is starting his trek to full blown villain-hood.  Hunter's sort of an anti-villain, but still not quite a good guy.  Lots of villains, huh?  Come to think of it, this particular part of this story doesn't have a hero.  And if it does….it'd hafta be Shawn Michaels.  Go figure.  Oh, and Kevin contemplates upping the amount of coverage on his homeowner's insurance.
Author's Notes: This one takes some really weird turns at more than one point.  Sorry, my muses are a little off kilter these last two weeks.  The song lyrics quoted at Pagan's are from "Bela Lugosi's Dead" by Bauhaus.  But, for those of you who read this and go "What the fuck was all that shit back there?" when you get to that scene that takes place at Pagan's, please know that I also have no idea where Derek St. James came from or who he is.  Or even if he'll show up in another installment or not.  But something tells me, he very well just might.  And he's cute too! Think Rudolf Martin.  And bonus points to anyone who can tell me something he's acted in.  I know.  Do you??
Author's Notes the Sequel: Strap in.  This one bounces back and forth between flashbacks and present day worse than the Energizer Bunny on Crack.
Dedication:  This one is dedicated to my Mom.  A wonderful, yet sadly under-appreciated woman, who spent the entire three-day weekend with me, watching wrestling tapes and DVD's - something she's got no interest in whatsoever beyond this story - in between bouts of the "Food Network," just to help me bust up the worst case of writer's block I've ever had.  In her own way, and I doubt she knows this, she also convinced me to "right a wrong" in this chapter, and pull out all of the stops for an upcoming chapter as well.  I know that this might not make much sense to you guys, but it will to her.  For you, Momma.  I love you.
Feedback: Always.
Disclaimer: Not mine - Vince's. Some are mine and I'm keeping those. No money made.  Hey, if I was making money off of this stuff, do you really think I'd still be driving an hour one-way to an from work twice a day, five days a week??  In the words of the greatest wrestler alive today, Triple H, "Are you out of your tiny little mind?!"  Oh, and Halle?  Call Coach. 

July 22, 2004 - Thursday - 7:59 p.m.
Casa de Nash - Key Largo, Florida 

"Baby!  Hurry up!  It's starting!"  Hunter yelled into the kitchen where Nan was putting the finishing touches on two oversized bowls of her cheddar popcorn, one for Hunter and herself, and one for Kevin.  She came sliding around the corner, the wobbling bowls balanced precariously on each other in one hand, two bottles of water and a Corona in the other.

"Incoming!"  she yelled, chunking the beer at Kevin and the two bottles of water at Hunter, fully expecting the men to catch them.  Which, thankfully, they did.  She quickly passed Kevin his bowl of cheddar corn and plopped down on the couch beside Hunter.  "What happened?  Did I miss anything??"

Kevin shook his head, laughing, enjoying the odd sense of déjà vu  he was experiencing.  Evidently Nan's penchant for careening into the room just as the opening credits for Smackdown began to roll was a regular thing for them.  His suspicions were confirmed when he realized Hunter had called out to her that the show was starting even before the opening credits began to play, and, Kevin noticed, his friend hadn't even bothered to look at the clock.  Oh yeah.  These two had it bad.

"Might wanna get your pads, Runt.  I'm still bruised from last week."  Kevin advised, twisting the cap off his beer and taking a deep pull from the chilled bottle.

Hunter smirked smugly at him.  "There's a trick to it." 

"Do tell."  Kevin replied with a raised eyebrow.

Quite comfortable in only a pair of shorts, apparently the official dress code for men in Key Largo, Hunter lifted his bare legs and laid them on the couch, sliding one down behind Nan.  She immediately shifted to make room for him as he turned to press his back along the arm of the couch, pillows stuffed down behind him for additional padding.  Nan then lay back slightly against Hunter's chest, turning to lay on her hip, one hand snaking down between his side and the couch cushions.  Hunter lifted his other leg to cross them both at the ankles over hers.  Then he wrapped one arm around her, and threaded his fingers through hers on her free hand.  Once the complicated maneuvering was finished, Hunter grinned at Kevin.

Kevin just shook his head, noting absently that it was the same way he'd found them wrapped up together on the glider two days ago.  At first he'd just thought it simply nauseatingly sweet.  Now he realized it for what it was.  Self-preservation.  Because there was no way, unless she sat up - which Hunter's muscular legs pinning her down prevented almost completely - could she pummel him to oblivion in her excitement over the night's wrestling matches. 

He lifted his beer at his friends.  "Salud."

Nan lifted her hand, with Hunter's, and still managed to flip Kevin the bird.

They settled in to watch the show.  General Manager Kurt Angle proved he was getting drunk on his own power by demanding referee Tony Chimmel get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness.  And then he announced that Eddie Guerrero would have to do likewise if he wanted to keep his job, which of course set Nan to fuming.

"He's lost what's left of his mind," Hunter commented dryly, interrupting her tirade of obscenities, most of which revolved around Angle's parentage - and something to do with a live chicken and anything that involved either a gas/oil mixture or a clutch, but he wasn't even going to try and figure that one out.  "Really.  He's finally snapped."

"And this surprises you?"  Nan retorted.

Hunter chuckled, and returned his attention to the show.  They all cheered and enjoyed the matches between Spike and Chavo, and then the one following between Bubba Ray and Billy Kidman. 

When JBL came out and started that endless raft of shit about having no one fit to be matched up against him, Nan snorted, "You know, I liked him a lot better when he drank more and talked less."

"Everybody did, baby."  Hunter agreed.

But then the Deadman's gong went off and Nan came unglued. Hunter damn near lost control of her. Kevin choked on his beer watching Hunter struggle against his girlfriend, draped across him, trying to keep her from punching him accidentally, while trying not to hurt her at the same time.  He didn't think he'd seen anything more entertaining in a very long while.

Undertaker came out, choke-slammed JBL, and announced, "You.  Me.  Summer Slam!"

"Yes!  Hot damn!"  Nan crowed.  "I'm going, right?  Right, Hunter?"

He laughed down at her.  "What kind of question is that?"

"Just checking."

But when they came back from commercial break to the next match, Kevin could no longer contain himself.

"Jesus Christ."  He groaned.  "A Fatal Four-way Lingerie match.  I could definitely get into that!"

"You're a sick man, putz."  Hunter grinned.

"Do I have to sit here and watch this?"  Nan groused.  "It's almost as bad as that Diva Search atrocity."

"What?" Hunter teased.  "You don't care for the Diva Search, baby?

She turned and looked up at him, her eyes lit up wickedly.  "You mean the 'Future Whores of America'?  No, can't say as I do."

Hunter's eyes narrowed.  "You've been talking to Stacy."

"Always, dear." 

"What else did she tell you?"

"Why?  You got something to hide?"

"Oh, please."  He snorted rolling his eyes.  "It's just that I get this overwhelming feeling that if you two were left alone long enough, you could plot the downfall of mankind.  And I'm not talking about Mick Foley either."

"Thank you."  She raised an eyebrow.  "And by the way, yes, some women do have a tendency to 'bounce' when they get excited.  At least, the natural ones do.  Liked that, did you?"

He chewed on his lip for a second.  "You saw that, huh?"

"Yup."  She nodded.  "Thank Mr. Walking Libido over there.  And let me tell you another thing, Hunter Hearst Helmsley," she fumed, warming to her topic.  "If that flexible nut-job Christy gets anywhere near you ever again where I can see it, you can be guaran-damn-teed there's gonna be a homicide at a WWE event!"

"If she wins, I may not have a choice in the matter."  Hunter grinned at her.  "And besides, I thought you said you weren't jealous."

"I'm not."  She announced, a feral, wild smile gracing her face.  "I just know when to fight for what's mine.  And that woman has ideas where you're concerned.  Mark my words.  She'd better not win.  I'm not kidding here, Hunter."

"So who do  you like for the winner," Hunter asked grinning at her display of ferocity.

"Anyone who isn't Christy.  But I do kind of like Carmella.  And Amy."

"Amy.  Isn't she the one in that video by that country singer you like so much," Kevin smirked, taking another deep pull from his beer.

"Yeah.  Whisky Girl by Toby Keith," she nodded at him, then turned back to Hunter.  "I'm very serious about this, Hunter.  I don't like the looks I saw her giving you at the competition.  And I won't be responsible for my actions if she steps over the line."

"Okay, baby.  Okay.  I hear you.  Let's just settle down and watch the rest of the show."

Kevin covered his chuckles with a cough and after casting a dark glare in his direction, Nan did calm down and thoroughly enjoyed the rest of Smackdown.

"Ya know, Runt, this may not be the best time to mention this," Kevin commented just before the show went off the air, as they were still laughing heartily over the look on Vinney Mac's face as Eddie kicked in the hydraulics on his low-rider.  "But, Angle's looking good for this, too."

"I'd thought of that."  Hunter nodded, losing his laughter.

"Why?"  Nan asked, instinctively knowing they were talking about the pictures yet again.  "What did he have to gain by sending them now rather than back then?"

"Stephanie."  Kevin answered.

"No way, Deez," Nan protested.  "If he had wanted Steph that bad, he could have had her when she and Hunter were splitting up."

"Jericho was in the way."  Kevin pointed out.

"Doesn't matter," Nan argued back.  "That didn't stop him when she was married to Hunter.  Or have you forgotten that kiss he planted on her right before Summer Slam in 2000? And then he left Hunter to be massacred by the Hardys and The Rock?!"

"Okay shug, retract the claws.  We all know you hate the man.  I'm just trying to point out that he's as likely a candidate than anyone else is.  Maybe even more so."

"I still don't see it."  She denied vehemently.  "And before you accuse me of defending him, get that thought right outta your head.  Angle and I have three things in common.  One, I hate him.  Two, he hates me.  And three, we hate each other.  It's a mutually beneficial relationship.  No one questions that.  But my point is, now he has no reason to give a flying damn what Hunter and I do.  Steph's free and clear.  Have at her.  No one would care.  If he is  behind this, there's got to be a reason that I'm just not getting."

Kevin reaffirmed his earlier position.  "I still say he's a good suspect." 

"A suspect with no motive," she countered.

"He's got a motive."  Kevin assured her.

"And what would that be?"  Nan asked.

"Revenge."  Hunter answered, quieting them both.  "For a man like that sonofabitch Angle, that's all the motive you need." 

~<>~

July 23, 2004 - Friday - 2:37 p.m.
Casa de Nash - the Beach - Key Largo, Florida 

"We had it all!  Just like Bogie and Bacall!  Starring in our old late, late show, Sailing away to Key Largo," the too cheerful voice sang loudly on the other end of the phone.

"Please don't sing that song.  I've had it stuck on my brain for almost a month now.  It's making me nuts."

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"You're right.  I'm not,"  the voice on the other end agreed happily.  "How long have you been down there anyway?

"Since around July first.  I know I worried you and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am.  Looks like I screwed up big time.  All the way around," Nan finished on a sigh. 

Her eyes wandered back down to the ocean where Hunter, Kevin, and Jack were playing some odd game that seemed to be a cross between keep away and tag football.  Kevin and Hunter would regularly tackle each other, with Jack tucked firmly under the arm of one of the battling behemoths, plowing headfirst into a breaking wave, only to come up spluttering a few seconds later, much to Jack's delighted cackles.  And apparently, Jack was the football, since she couldn't see another such object anywhere in sight.

"Well, you certainly scared the hell out of me."  Stacy's voice sounded both angry and relieved at the same time, on the other end of Nan's cell.  Her friend sighed, then spoke a little quieter, "Are you guys…okay  You did get back together, right?  I mean, the way he tore out of the arena on Monday night, I wasn't sure if when he got to you if he was gonna hug you or kill you."

"We're good.  No, really," she protested at her friend's snort of disbelief.  "We're very good," she purred, her smile even obvious on the other end of the line.

"Ah-hah!"  Stacy laughed brightly.  "That's the sound of a woman who's been soundly fucked into the middle of next week!"

Nan's mouth dropped open, surprised at her friend's verbiage.  "Stacy Kiebler!  When did you turn into a potty mouth?!  That's my job," she added with a laugh.

"Must be the company I've been keeping lately."

"Got somethin'  you wanna tell me there, Stace?"

"Nope."  Nan could hear the grin on the vivacious blonde's face.  Stacy quickly turned the topic away from herself.  "But you guys are back together, though, yes?"

"Yes.  We are."

"It's about damn time.  You two are gonna give me gray hairs, you know that?"

Nan laughed,  "Not before you come down here and go for a ride on Hunter's Gold."

"Hunter's gold what?"  Stacy paused, perplexed as her friend immediately started laughing.  "Oh!  The boat!  How'd he like it?"

"Loves it.  Loves it!  I mean, I'm surprised I'm sitting on the beach now rather than out cruising the ocean somewhere.  Ever since I gave him the keys, we've been out on it every day, just about all day.  I barely even had the time to call into the office and turn down that new job they offered me.  And we've been sleeping on it, too.  You know…to give Deez his house back for a little bit before Edge and Karen show up tonight."

"You don't sound to thrilled with that prospect."  Stacy observed. 

Nan frowned, tracing random patterns in the sand with her fingers.  "I'm not.  I can't remember much and I really don't relish the thought of re-hashing it all tonight."

"Can't say as I blame you.  I'd come down for moral support if I could.  I mean, I really can't contribute that much to what happened.  I wasn't with you the whole time and you disappeared for so long.  But I did come to see you in the hospital." 

"I know."  Nan sighed.  "Shawn told me."

"Speaking of," Stacy commented casually.  "Have you spoken to him?  You know yesterday was his birthday."

"I sent him a card," Nan mumbled

"Nan.  Shame on you."  Stacy's voice was censoring.

"I know, Stace, but I just didn't want to put more on his plate right now.  He's got enough going on."

Stacy sighed.  "Did you at least tell him where you were if he decided to call you?"

"Yes, mom."  Nan paused for a moment, then continued.  "I told him in the card that Hunter and I had decided to cool things off a bit and I was staying with Deez for a while.  I'll call him before I leave here and tell him everything's okay.  I promise.  Happy?"

"No."  Stacy pronounced emphatically.  "When did you send the card?"

"Monday."

"Oh God." Her friend groaned on the other end of the line.  "You realize that means he's already gotten it probably."

"So I'll call him today."

Her friend sounded preoccupied.  "What else is bugging you, Nan?"

She paused for a moment.  "Bobby's bound to come up in this conversation."

"So?"

"So…"  Nan sighed.  "So, I've not told Hunter about him, or other things."

"Don't you think it's time you did, then?"

"Et tu Brute?"

"Easy one.  Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, said by Caesar to Brutus right before he stabbed him."  Stacy warbled happily into the phone.  Her voice then took on less levity.  "But I'm not stabbing you and it doesn't change the subject.  Tell him, Nan.  It'll be okay."

Nan didn't answer right away, her attention being caught by movement down at the tide-line.  Kevin continued his rough horseplay with Jack in the surf.  But the sight of a soaking wet Adonis striding cockily up the beach towards her, took her breath away.  Hunter's hair lay in wet strings, plastered to his face, and neck.  Beads of salt water slowly ran down his chest, and dripped from his wet jockey-style trunks.  He favored her with an incendiary  glance, just before he dropped down onto the blanket beside her, both of them fitting easily under the shade of the huge beach umbrella.

"Who's on the phone, baby?"

"Stacy."

"What?" the blond asked.

Hunter held out his hand.  "Give."

Nan passed him the cell and immediately grabbed up the bottle of sunscreen beside her.  With slow, calculated movements, she poured a big dollop in her hands, and  rubbed them together before turning to him and beginning to spread it in an even layer across his chest, arms, and shoulders.

"Hey, Legs.  How's it going back on the home front?  No shit.  Anything I need to be worried about?  No shit?  Good for you!  Yeah, well, I guess I am a little more relaxed than usual."  He smiled, winking at Nan who picked up the bottle of sunscreen again, and this time poured some straight on to his skin.

"Hey!"  He yelped, protesting at the temperature since she'd kept the bottle in the shade of the umbrella. 

With an evil smile, Nan flicked his nipple with a fingernail. 

"Quit it, minx!  Nothing, Stace,"  he said with a glare at the woman leaning over him.  "Nan's just basting me again.  Basting!  Not tasting!  Get your mind out of the gutter, woman.  No, sunscreen.  Hell, I don't know.  SPF Five Million or some shit. Can't have me going into the Iron Man match against Benoit with a sunburn, now can we?  No, I don't bother with that sort of stuff, 'cuz Nan worries about that crap enough for the both of us. Yeah, spoiled absolutely rotten," he laughed, smiling.

"Ask her if she's gonna be in Pittsburgh on Monday."  Nan instructed, moving to slather the sunscreen onto his thighs and lower legs.

"Say, Stace,  Nan wants to know if you're gonna be there on Monday.  Oh, the Democratic National Convention, huh?"  He shook his head at her, and Nan made a circular rotation with her index finger.  "What about next week.  Yeah, San Antonio.  Yeah.  Okay.  I guess we'll see you there then.  Okay.  Later Stace."  He shut the cell phone, and pitched it into the open straw bag sitting nearby.  "She says that she'll look at the pictures when she catches up with us in Texas.  What pictures?"

"The ones of your new boat and Jack and Hannah.  Not to mention Deez.  And…"  she grinned down at him.  "Our new vacation house."

"That's not a done deal yet, baby."

"Oh please, Hunter."  She scoffed, motioning for him to turn over so she could do his back  "When have you ever not gotten something you wanted?"

Hunter sat up and grinned lasciviously at her, leaning back on his palms.  "When I didn't get you in Birmingham."

"Roll over, you horn-dog."  She smiled, pushing at his shoulder.  He chuckled but did as she instructed, groaning slightly as she straddled his hips, keeping most of her weight on her knees.  She began to rub the sunscreen into the smooth, warm skin across the broad expanse of his back.  Every so often, she'd slide her fingers down his spine, searching for 'kinks'.  Whenever she found one, she'd push down with her palms folded across each other, just about lifting herself up off him, popping his vertebrae back into place.  Then she'd settle back down on his bottom, and begin tracing his spine all over again, rubbing in the sunscreen at the same time with her massage.

"Oh, God," he groaned after about the fourth vertebrae she'd popped back into place.  "You've got exactly fifty years to stop doing that."

Smiling she retorted, "I don't think that my fingers will have the same amount of strength in them when I'm eighty-five, Hunter."

"S'okay," he mumbled, his eyes half-closed, a definite teasing smile in his voice.  "Hopefully my back won't be this bad either.  But by then I'm sure you'll have run off with a man half my age.  Like our pool guy's son or something."

"His name is Rafael and he's fifteen, Hunter.  I'm old enough to be his mother."

"Maybe," Hunter groaned as she hit a particularly sore knot in his left shoulder and began working it out.  "But I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching.  'Sides,  by then he'll be a spry sixty-five and I'll probably be gumming my food and wearing adult diapers."

"Humph.  Not likely," she snorted.  "I know you, Hunter.  At eighty-four you'll probably be standing in the middle of the ring, leaning on a frighteningly expensive walking stick - shaped ironically enough like a sledgehammer - yelling for the newest Heavyweight Champion - John Cena, Jr. or Randy Orton the third - to come out and prove he's man enough to beat the Game."

"God, I hope so."  His face split into a smile, and he laughed hard enough at that mental image to jostle her a bit. "Say, in this scenario, do I still have my hair?"

"With that hairline you've got?  Of course.  But I'm sure I'll have convinced you to grow it back out long again by then.  Say as long as it was in the nineties?" 

"You realize, baby, that by then it'll be solid white and I'll look like Father Time."

"Only if you grow your beard too.  Nah, you're too big to be Father Time.  You'd look more like I've always imagined Odin would look like in human form."

"Father of the Norse Gods, and King of Valhalla, huh?  I can live with that," he grinned against his arm.

She moved her massage up to dig deeply into his trapezius muscles, the strong bands of tissue just above his collarbones leading into the thick tendons of his neck.

"Oh, sweet Mary, Mother of God, don't stop," he moaned.

 She chuckled then it hit her that, even though they were teasing each other, and joking around, they were still talking about being together for as far into the future as either one of them could see.  She swallowed hard at that, realizing it was the first time Hunter had even remotely mentioned something as long-term as their future together.  And also, it was the first time she'd contemplated a future other than one of her by herself since Bobby. 

She was shocked to feel a craving, a bone-deep hunger, build up inside of her at the thought of growing old with Hunter.  She wanted it so badly that she could taste it.  But that brought up a lot of other things.  Maybe Stacy was right.  Maybe it was time to talk about Bobby….and other issues.

Sighing, she asked quietly, "Hunter?"

"Yeah, baby," he half-moaned into his arm, where his head was pillowed.

"Hunter, I…we…"  Nan trailed off, biting her bottom lip.  She hated talking about this.

Hunter moved to roll over, and Nan went to slide off of him.  But he grabbed her legs, so she settled back down across his lap, still bracing herself mainly on her knees.  He brought up his feet to lay them flat on the blanket, giving her some support against his thighs as she settled back against him.  He was laying on his back, one hand behind his head.  Of course, seated the way she was, it brought her in direct contact with another part of his anatomy, and by the gleam in his eyes, that fact wasn't lost on him, either.

But she wasn't smiling, like he'd expected her to be.  She looked…worried.  "What is it, Nan?  You nervous about tonight?"

She nodded.  "There's gonna be some stuff that you don't wanna hear.  Me either for that matter."

He rubbed his palm up and down her thigh in a soothing gesture.  "I kinda figured that, baby.  But we'll get through it.  We'll find out who did this to us.  I'll hand 'em their liver in a box, and we'll go on with our lives."

"Hunter, there's something you need to know before we go through this."  She sighed heavily.  "I was engaged to be married before I met you...and I…can't have…"

"Bobby, right," he interrupted, surprising her. 

She stared down at him dumbfounded, the other thing she had been about to confess completely forgotten at his statement.  "How…how did you know…"

Hunter favored her with a gentle smile.  "Baby, remember how you told me once that Shawn used to write to you about me?"

"Yeah," she answered suspiciously. 

"Well, he did the same thing about you to me.  But he didn't write about you.  He usually read your letters to me.  Or parts of them, anyway.  I know all about Bobby."

He trailed his fingers steadily up and down her thigh as he talked.  "I know how he ignored his illness for a long time so he could keep on being a Vice cop in your hometown.   About his death, how you took care of him that last year or so.  And how badly it hurt you when he died.  I also know how he didn't marry you just to leave you a widow.  I'm sure there's some finer points and private stuff I don't know about, but I do know you don't like to talk about it."

"You knew…all this time, and you never said anything?"

"I didn't see the point in bringing it up when it was so obvious that it hurt you to talk about it.  I'm not a 'what if' kind of man.  I deal with what's here and now.  You know that.  Were Bobby still alive, I might feel differently about it.  But he's not.  So,  I figured you'd tell me about him when you were ready."  He folded his fingers over hers.  "And baby, if you're still not ready, then leave it alone."

Nodding slowly, she just stared down at him.  "I'm not ready."

"I didn't think you were.  So, when it comes up tonight, we'll just deal with it as cursorily as we can and move on.  Okay?"

"Okay."  She paused, then her eyes narrowed as something occurred to her.  "If Shawn read my letters to you, then you know about what Granddaddy left me in his will."

Now he had the grace to look slightly abashed.  "The Harrell Coliseum.  Yeah.  And that you worked in it since you were twelve, and even played there as a child.  That's how you met Shawn and all of the other wrestlers from damn near every wrestling faction ever to perform there."

"Which means you know I still own it."

Hunter nodded.  "Yeah.  But that's your finances.  None of my business.  And I'm not asking."

"Jesus Christ, Hunter!  Is there anything about me you didn't find out from Shawn?!"  She cried, terrified of what else Shawn may, or may not, have told him.

"Now, baby, don't be like that."  He tried to placate her.  "There's a lot about you I'm sure I don't know.  Like anything he didn't tell me.  Private stuff.  Stuff you'd have probably slugged him over telling anyone else.  The things he told me weren't secrets.  He was just passing the time on the road.  Sorta like letters from home for the guys in the service.  You read them to your buddies, but not the private stuff.  And I rode with him for a long time.  So, I sorta got to know you through those letters, like you did with me.  But I'm sure he edited out some stuff."

"How do you figure that?"

"Cause he'd pause sometimes, and just skip over paragraphs.  You know, and make that 'yadda yadda yadda' noise.  Then he'd fold up the letters and shove 'em into his bags or wherever.  I figured it was private stuff, between the two of you, so I didn't ask."

Nan sat silently for a moment, relieved that Shawn hadn't betrayed her confidence, but knowing she'd have to tell him eventually.  Then and there she decided that today was not that time.  It could wait.  Not much longer, she knew, but she still had a little more time.  She smiled down at him.  "We've been set up, yet again."

Hunter returned her grin.  "Yeah, by a Catholic Yenta, if there is such a thing."

She laughed, sliding off his lap to sit between his spread legs as he sat up.  She pulled her thick braid over one shoulder, and presented her back to him, passing him the bottle of sunscreen.  She sighed slightly as she could feel him leisurely slide the tank straps of her swimsuit down her shoulders until they rested in the crooks of her elbows.  She raised one hand to clutch at the top her of bathing suit to keep it covering her breasts.  "If you start singing 'Matchmaker Matchmaker', I'm gonna bury you up to your chin in the sand.  Right in the tide-line."

She could hear the grin in his voice as he curled sunscreen slicked palms over her shoulders, kneading the muscles there, rubbing the lotion into her skin.  "Now would I subject you to that?"

"In a New York minute."

Hunter chuckled, loving how easily she read him sometimes.  "Damn straight."

He re-applied the sunscreen and worked it into her back, down her arms and around her hipbones where the one-piece suit came up to cover her backside.  He leaned in and rubbed his whiskers against the sensitive column of her neck, nipping her earlobe as he whispered, "What is it gonna take to get you into a bikini?"

Nan leaned back slightly, looking over he shoulder at him through her lashes with enough heat in her eyes to turn the sand on the beach into a solid sheet of glass.  Even at the odd angle, she pressed backwards until she caught his lips with hers, kissing him softly, then catching his bottom lip between her teeth in a playful bite, before pulling away.  With her lips parted, and her pupils dilated, Hunter's own eyelids drooped to half-open at the look in her eyes, just before she answered him.

"The Second Coming," she whispered.

Hunter blinked a moment before her meaning penetrated the lustful fog that had enveloped his brain.  But he wasn't quite so easily deterred.  Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he bent his head, skimming his lips and beard along her collarbone, knowing it drove her insane.  "Come on, baby.  What's wrong with bikinis?"

Tilting her head to the side to give him better access, she breathed heavily, "Nothing.  Other than they make me feel sleazy.  I'll go stark naked for you anywhere, that one - we're alone and two - won't get us arrested.  But I'm not wearing a bikini in public."

He lifted his head up at that.  "You're serious?"  At her nod, he grinned wickedly.  "You've got a deal."

"Make sure you get lots of pictures."  a new male voice called out.

With a pained groan, Hunter dropped his forehead back down on her shoulder, but he didn’t release her.  "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to know that you're getting more action on a semi-private beach than I've seen in the last three days."

Hunter turned his head to look up at the newcomers with a scowl.  "How is it my fault that you don't know how to keep your lady happy?"  He looked over at the woman in question who was standing just behind the man, looking very irritated, her arms crossed over her ample chest.  Hunter's eyes softened, and he smiled.  "Hey, Munchkin. You cut your hair.  Looks good."

Slightly self-conscious, she raised her hand to her hair.  She'd shorn those loose blonde waves around her shoulders to a cap of golden curls that gave her a pixyish look.  Even more so than usual.  Karen smiled at him, forgetting her irritation at Edge, on seeing Hunter and Nan happily back together.  Her grin grew as Hunter slid Nan's straps back up on her shoulders and helped the redhead to her feet, one arm curled around her waist, his fingers clamped possessively on her hip. 

"You're looking mighty pleased with yourself, Hunt.  You sound a lot better than you did the last time I talked to you too," Karen grinned up at him, hopping up to his side, giving him a one-armed hug.

"I am better, Munchkin.  Thanks."

Nan stepped out of Hunter's grasp to embrace her friend.  Edge returned the tight hug silently, then took a step backward, but kept both hands on her upper arms.  "You okay, Nan?"

"Yeah," she whispered, a lump forming in her throat, growing even more nervous now that they were actually there.

"It'll be okay,"  Edge assured her.  "This conversation is long past overdue."  He looked up at Hunter, his green eyes hardening just a bit.  "For all of us."

"You know, Edge,"  Hunter began, just a bit of bite in his tone.  "If you weren't such a goddamn boy-scout, you'd make fine addition to Evolution."

Edge grinned sinisterly at him, showing strong white rows of overly even teeth, his eyes popping with animosity.  "Careful there, Gamezilla.  Put me in Evolution, and you just might turn around one day to find me having taken over and you out on your substantial ass."

Hunter's brow furrowed into a deep scowl, his nostrils flaring.  "Now you listen to me, you punk…"

"Please don't do this.  Not now," Nan's whisper cut through what Hunter was going to say more efficiently than the loudest protest could have.  "I can't handle it today."

Both Edge and Hunter were spared having to respond to her quiet plea by a deep bellow.  "Tinkerbell!"

Immediately, Karen's head swiveled around, and the five foot three, buxom blonde was off and running towards her giant-sized friend. "Kev?  Kevin!!"

Laughing, Kevin caught her easily as she vaulted herself at him, swinging her around, making the little boy at his side cackle with laughter.  The childish laughter caught her attention.  Once Kevin set her back on her feet, she knelt down to smile at the cherubic face with the huge indigo eyes and sinful dimples.

"Hello there.  My name is Karen.  And that's Edge," she pointed at where Edge stood with Nan and Hunter struggling not to laugh.

"Hi, Mith Karen.  Hi, Mithter Edge.  Nithe ta meetcha." 

"And what's your name?"

"Oh!  Thorry!"  He stuck his hand out, then quickly retracted it, wiping it down his shorts to scrape the excess sand off of it.  Then he stuck it out at her again with a gap-toothed smile that had what was left of Karen's heart melting, oozing all down her insides.  "I'm Jack.  I'm theven yearth old, and I live netht door.  I've got a thithter, Hannie, but the'th boring.  Unca Kevin and Mithter Hunter were playing tackle feetball with me and I wath the feetball!  Wanna play?  I'll thow you how!"

Karen glanced up at Kevin, who shook his head just barely.  She turned her attention back to the little boy.  "I can't right now, Jack.  How about a rain-check?"

Jack squinted up at Kevin.  "Unca Kevin?  What'th a rain-check?"

"Means she'll catch us on the rebound, Slugger.  Some other time."  Kevin caught a movement in his peripheral vision.  "Besides, looks like your Mom's looking for you.  You'd better run along.  We'll catch you again before they have to leave."

"Kay," he grumbled mildly, then brightened, waving at all of them.  "Bye Mith Karen, Mithter Edge.  Bye, Mith Nan, Mithter Hunter.  Later Unca Kevin!"  Kicking up more sand than a whirling dervish, he sprinted off towards where his mother waited, obviously impatient even from the good distance that she was from them.

"He's a heartbreaker."  Karen grinned as he walked away with his mother's hand firmly wrapped around his.

"Yeah," Kevin smiled wistfully.  "Wish I really were his uncle.  Then maybe I could do something to help him get out of there."

"What do you mean, Kev?"  Karen asked, her smile turning into a frown.

Kevin looked easily over her head to where Hunter, Nan, and Edge stood, apparently deep in conversation. "Put it this way, Tink.  Jack and Hunter have a lot more in common about their parents - mothers especially - than meets the eye."

Karen's eyes widened.  "Oh, no."

"Yup."  Kevin nodded.

"Damnit!  Why do people have to be like that?!"

"I don't know, Tink.  I just don't know," he replied sadly, draping his arm over her shoulders and steering her back towards his house.  "Come on.  Let's go see if we can't scrounge up some grub.  I'm starving!" 

~<>~

July 23, 2004 - Friday - 8:13 p.m.
Casa de Nash - Key Largo, Florida 

They'd ordered pizza.  Nan had volunteered to cook for them all, but when Hunter had seen how badly her hands were shaking he'd put the kibosh on that idea very quickly.  Deciding maybe it was best to go ahead and get this whole mess behind them, they'd settled into the living room after devouring more pizza that probably was humanly possible under normal circumstances.  But about the time they were ready to begin, someone knocked on the door and Dixie went ballistic.

Since it was his house, Kevin got up to answer it.  His surprised exclamation echoed through the house.  "Holy shit!  Damnit!  How did you know she was here?"

"She wrote me, how else?  Where is she?"  A well-known and mostly well-loved gravelly voice barked out from the direction of the front door.  And it was getting closer.  "Baby doll!  Are you in there?!"

"Shawn?"  Nan called, stupefied that he'd shown up.  Then her cheeks flamed as she remembered that she'd forgotten to call him like she'd promised Stacy she would earlier.

"Sonofabitch!"  Hunter bellowed exploding out of his seat beside Nan on the couch, heading for the front door with Nan fast on his heels.

"Oh, this is gonna get ugly," Kevin muttered, as he stalked back into the living room and threw himself down into his recliner.  He lifted his hands to the ceiling, as well as his eyes.  "What did I do to deserve them in my house?  Huh?"

The voices, as well as the barking, coming from the foyer started going up in volume and Edge grabbed at Karen as she stood up.  "And just where do you think you're going?"

"To say hello to Shawn."

Edge shook his head.  "Oh no you're not.  No way are you getting in the line of fire."

"What are you talking about?  They're both friends of mine.  They wouldn't hurt me!"  Karen protested.

Her lover pulled her back down onto the couch.  "Maybe not intentionally, but I'm not taking any chances.  Now sit."

"Edge!"

"Stay put, Tink.  He's got good reason,"  Kevin agreed.

"Fine!"  She fumed, crossing her arms across her chest, and tapping her foot, the very picture of a pissed off female.  However, her anger was forgotten as the argument coming from the foyer heated up and they could hear what was being said.

"I can't believe you threw her out over pictures you didn't even know existed.  Do you know how long ago that was?!  And you didn't even have any claim on her then!"

"I didn't throw her out!"  Hunter bellowed.  "She left me!"

"No, I didn't."  Nan protested.  "I asked you specifically if you wanted me to be there when you got back."

"And I said I'd call you and let you know!"

"You did what?"  Shawn hollered.

"Stay out of this!"  Hunter glared at him.  "And I did call you!"

"Yeah!  You called me all right!  And who did you think I heard in the back ground during your phone call?!  Your ex-wife!"

"You went back to Stephanie?  God, but you're warped!" 

"I didn't go back to Steph!  I happened to run into her at the Tower!  God!  Why am I explaining myself to you?!"  He turned back to Nan.  "I didn't go back to Steph, baby.  Tell me you believe me."

Shawn  announced.  "Come on, baby doll.  Let's get you out of here.  You don't need this."

"She's not going anywhere!"

"You don't own her!"

"And neither do you!"  Nan yelled.  "I'm not a kid anymore, Shawn!"

"That's right!"  Hunter agreed.  "She's not a member of your little clique of faithful ring-rats!"

"At least my women could be faithful!  I never drove any of them into the arms of other men the very minute they showed they weren't perfect!"  Shawn's voice rose as much as possible given his injury, but it still carried easily to where they were seated.

"Perfect!"  Hunter roared, veins in his neck beginning to bulge out.  "Oh that's rich!  You're just the one to talk about perfection aren't ya, HBK?"

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, oh Pious One," Hunter sneered.  "That I know exactly what I'm getting you for Christmas!  A big wooden cross.  So any time you feel like you need to show all of us sinners just how perfect you are, you can climb up on it and nail yourself to it!"

"That's enough!"  Nan's bellow topped them all.  "I have had it with you two!"

"Oh hell,"  Edge mumbled, covering his eyes.  "I know that tone."

"You called down the thunder, well now you've got it.  And hell's coming with her."  Kevin quoted, with a slight twist.

"Shush!  I wanna hear this!"  Karen admonished them both, waving her hands in the air.

"…and when you insult his faith, you insult mine.  And I may not be overly vocal about it, but Hunter, I just won't put up with that!" 

"This isn't your fight, Nan!"  Shawn declared.

"Damn right!"  Hunter chimed in.

"The hell it isn't!"  She disagreed, her voice going up in pitch.  "Who the fuck do you two think is always stuck in the middle?!  Me!  And normally that's just fine, but right now I'm sick of it!  You two wanna kill each other?  Fine!  Go ahead!  But take it outside where I don't have to deal with either one of you!"

There was a moment of silence, then Hunter spoke, his volume a little lower than before.  "You don't mean that, baby."

"Don't I?"  She yelled at him, her voice wobbling.  "Just try me!  I swear to God, Hunter!  I love you more than life itself!  But if you make me deal with this shit tonight just one more second, you won't have to worry about Benoit on Monday!  I'll push you off the bluff on the other side of the island myself!"

With an infuriated glare, she pivoted on her heel and stormed back into the living room, with her faithful fifteen-pound protector trotting happily behind her.  Hunter and Shawn just stood there for a moment, staring after her.  Then unexpectedly, Hunter's face split into a wide smile, and he threw an arm around Shawn's shoulders, causing the other man to raise his fists up defensively.  Shawn's mouth dropped open when Hunter just slapped his hands down, and thumped his stomach like he used to. 

"Hear that?  She still loves me." He grinned at his former friend, looking far too much like the man Shawn used to know.  Hunter pulled his arm from around Shawn's shoulders and pushed at the smaller man's head, shoving him off balance before he chuckled and turned to follow his girl back into the living room as well.

"Glad someone does," he muttered.  Shawn stood staring after the both of them feeling like he's just stepped into the Twilight Zone.  Then he chuckled before joining the rest of them.  "And she's not alone, either."

Shawn stepped into the living room, surprised to see Edge and Karen sitting on the loveseat.  After he exchanged greetings, and a hug with Karen, he settled next to Nan on the couch, on the opposite end of Hunter.  He reached into his jeans for his wallet.  "Got something for you, baby doll."

Nan smiled shakily at him, from her place, curled up against Hunter's right side.  "Your birthday yesterday and you've got something for me?"

Shawn nodded, pulling a photograph from his wallet and passing it to her.  "Way over due, too." 

She took it, and immediately tears started flowing down her cheeks. "Oh, Shawn.  Really?"  She covered her mouth with her free hand when he nodded. 

Hunter leaned over, his eyes widening at the picture in her fingers.  "No shit?"

"Okay, this I gotta see."  Kevin announced.  Nan handed the picture across to him.  He took it and blinked rapidly, not believing what he was seeing.  He held a photograph with the date from two days prior on it, July 22, 2004.  In said photograph was Shawn with his hands curled fists, his knees bent and grinning from ear to ear, the old Rockers' pose.  And right beside him was Marty Jannetty, in the same pose, an equally large smile on Marty's face.

Kevin looked up, smiling as well.  "Another fence mended.  I guess all things are possible."

Nan nodded, still crying, but smiling as well, and holding out her hand for the picture.  "Mine.  Gimme."

"Not still a kid, are you baby doll?"  Shawn teased her.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'd say she's entitled to be a little childish tonight."  Hunter announced, looking over at Edge.  "Well?"

But Kevin answered before Edge could.  "I've called you all here tonight to inform you that one of you…is a murderer."  He stared back at the blank stares greeting his attempt at levity.  "What?  I've always wanted to say that.  Sheesh.  Stone a guy for trying to lighten the mood a little, why don't ya?"

"It's okay, Deez."  Nan spoke up quietly.  "I do remember a little, so I guess I should start." 

~<>~

February 4, 2002 8:54 p.m.
Pagan's - Las Vegas, Nevada 

"Who the fuck are you, my mother?  Look, I'm American, free, and way the hell over twenty-one.  So back the fuck off.  I'll do what I damn well please."

"You need to listen to us.  This is not where you need to be tonight."

"The night is young and so am I!  And by God, I'm gonna go in there, dance, drink, flirt, and generally have a great damn time.  Hell, I may even get laid.  And if you two nuns wanna go back to your hotel and sleep, then be my guest.  Go,"  Nan informed the two men trying to stop her from entering the club, with a blazing anger in her dark eyes. 

The two of them just looked at her, with a look of such profound pity on their faces that it turned her stomach.  Al was the one, as usual to voice his logical protests.  "Nan, look around you at these people.  It's Goth night.  Most of these idiots are dressed up right out of something Anne Rice would write about."

"Fantastic."  Nan declared, her eyes dancing with reckless bravado.  "I always liked Armand best.  Maybe I'll find me one and take him home."

"Honey, they're playing rave music in there.  You know how these type of parties get,"  Edge tried to reason with her.

"A better guarantee that I'll have a rocking good time tonight then, huh?"

"Nan," Al began again.

"No.  I've heard enough.  Get it out of your heads right now that you're gonna keep me from doing exactly what I just said I was gonna do.  Face it gentlemen.  With or without you, I'm going.  Game Over.  Remember?"  She gave them a watery smile, and whispered, "Besides, I told Stacy we'd meet her here in about an hour.  Can't stand-up the new gal, now can we?  Come on.  Live a little."

"Hey, hey, hey!"  Stacy's voice called out from the crowd waiting to get inside, as she skidded up to her new friend.

"Speak of the Devil and she shall appear!"  Nan answered brightly.  "You're early."

"Yeah,"  Stacy giggled breathlessly.  "Decided I didn't wanna wait.  So, you ready to go lose yourself in this den of iniquity here?"

"Oh, in the worst way,"  Nan grinned wickedly up at the blonde.  "After you, Buffy."

Stacy grinned back.  "Right behind you, Faith."

"Ooh, I like that."  Nan flashed a saucy smile over at the guys.  "Have a good night, boys."

Arm and arm, the two women walked up the steps of the club, chatted a moment with the muscle-bound, Mr. Clean look-alike bouncer, and with huge smiles, slipped past the man holding back the velvet rope.  Edge and Al were right behind them, looking none too happy about it, either.

They'd been there for almost an hour, when Nan went back to the bar for her fourth drink.  Stacy vibrated beside her, having more fun than she could remember in quite some time, as was evident by the size of the smile on her face. 

"Double Gentleman Jack, on the rocks, right?"  The bartender yelled to her over the music, as he leaned in over the bar with a grin.

"Right!"  Nan yelled back.

Stacy leaned in too,  "Bottled water if you've got it."

He nodded.  "Coming right up, ladies!"

"He's cute,"  Nan told her friend.  "He's eyeballing you hard, too."

"Nope."  Stacy shook her head.  "Not my type.  Too refined.  I like my men a little more rough around the edges, if you know what I mean."

"I hear that."  Nan grinned at her, knowing exactly what she meant.  But shockingly enough, thinking of her own penchant for blonde rough around the edges men, one in particular, didn't cause the pang and lump in her throat that she thought it would.  She couldn't be over him already, could she?

As the bartender fixed their drinks, Nan looked around the club, actually slightly surprised that she really was having as good a time as she was.  Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was the music and atmosphere of the place, but she really couldn't seem to get too upset over what had happened earlier that night.  And for some reason, she started to grin.

Stacy noticed, and commented on it as she passed Nan her drink, accepting both from the bartender with a smile.  "Boy, you sure look like you're in a better mood than you were earlier."

"Oh yeah,"  Nan smiled dreamily, while still looking around the club, then taking a deep pull from her tumbler, enjoying the burn of the whisky as it went down.  She felt like she was floating.  Like the music was tickling her underneath her skin and through her veins.  And the lights in the club were making the neatest vapor trails through the air that she'd ever seen.  It was really cool.

"It's the damnedest thing, ya know? Earlier I would have begged you to cut my heart out with a spoon.  But now?  Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

"You're mixing quotations."  Stacy laughed as Nan shrugged a shoulder.  "Why a spoon, cousin?"

Grinning the two women spoke simultaneously,  "Because it's dull, you twit!  It'll hurt more!"

Laughing, Nan asked,  "You see our watchdogs anywhere near by?"

"Over there."  Nodding, Stacy pointed to a table right off the bar, in full view and access of both the dance-floor and the hallway to the restrooms.  "Think we should get 'em on the dance floor?"

"What the hell."  Nan responded.  "I'll take Edge.  You can have Al."

"Let's do this."  Stacy agreed as they set off for the guys in question, a predatory look in their eyes.

After much protesting, they finally got them both onto the dance-floor, and the music picked up a pace or two, The frenzied motions of the dancers following suit.  Nan blinked, feeling like her eyes were suddenly packed with sand. The music had turned, now sounding heavy, weird, and strangely compelling.  And the lights, while still having that strange prismatic effect on the strawberry scented fog enveloping the room, now were very intense. But she ran her hands up into her hair and continued to gyrate to the beat, losing herself in the harsh rhythms.  Halfway into the second song, the sensation of being watched was too strong for her to ignore anymore. 

Turning around, but still dancing with her back to who she assumed was still Edge, she caught a glimpse of lightly tanned skin, and long black hair.  Her breath caught in her throat, and no one heard her whisper, "Bobby?"

Before Edge could stop her, she disappeared into the crowd. 

~<>~

July 23, 2004 - Friday - 8:13 p.m.
Casa de Nash - Key Largo, Florida 

"And that's the last thing I remember,"  Nan finished quietly.

"But not you.  Right, Edge?"  Hunter asked, his voice hoarse and thick.

Edge shook his head, his hands clenched into fists on his knees.  He looked over at Nan for a moment, his green eyes sad.  "No.  Unfortunately, I remember a lot more."

 ~<>~

February 4, 2002 11:27 p.m.
Pagan's - Las Vegas, Nevada 

They'd been on the dance floor in a crush of bodies for a while now, but he just couldn't seem to stop moving with the beat. The music had turned eerie.  And he couldn't see Nan anywhere.  He didn't know exactly when he'd lost track of her, but he had, and it was starting to worry him.  Suddenly, through the compelling rhythms pounding out of the speakers along the black walls, a deep, melodious, yet slightly menacing voice began crooning the words to the song played by the DJ.  It gave him the shivers.

The bats have left the bell tower
The victims have been bled
Red velvet lines
The black box

"Al!"  Edge called out over the music after spotting him dancing with a woman he'd never seen before.  But Al didn't hear him.  Edge grabbed his shirt and pulled him in towards him. 

"Hey, man!  What?"  Al protested, not expecting the sharp movement.

"I can't find Nan!"

"What do you mean you can't find her?"  Al yelled back, before looking at his watch.  "Shit!  We've been out here, what, almost an hour and just now you're telling me you can't find her?!  Where the fuck is she?!"

"If I knew that," Edge yelled back.  "Do you think I'd be telling you I couldn't find her?!  And where the hell is Keebs?"

Al's head swiveled almost in all directions at once.  "Shit!  I don't know!  Come on."

As the two of them left the dance floor, they almost had to fight their way through the throng of bodies mashed together as the song playing went on and on, growing louder and louder, almost like it was building up to something they didn't understand.  But the others around them did, looks of euphoria on their faces, totally enthralled by the pounding music, the lights, everything.  It was almost hypnotic, and Edge felt himself being drawn back in.

"Al!  Edge!  Over here!" 

Looking up, Edge could see Stacy waving at them from near the bar, standing beside Shawn, who was looked about ready to kill.  Shaking off the weird feeling, Edge made his way towards them as quickly as possible, with Al right beside him.  When they drew up even with them, Edge could see tear streaks down Stacy's cheeks.

"I can't find her!  Where is she?"  Stacy cried, worried almost to the point of hysteria.

"We don't know."  Edge answered.

"You don't know?"  Shawn ground out angrily.  "You call me in almost a dead panic to tell me to get here after you laid on me what happened tonight?  And if that wasn't enough to blow my brains right outta my head, now you're telling me you can't find her?!  Well, listen up, jackasses!  You two had better find her and I mean now!"

Before they could respond, the crush of bodies seemed to part a bit, allowing a tall, lean looking man dressed in a black turtleneck, black jacket, and black dress pants to glide through the crowd. He had a heart-shaped face, very long and angular, with high cheekbones.  His skin was a bit pale, but had a golden tint to it, giving testament to a mixed ethnic background, possibly Creole.  His hair was long, so black that it had a bluish tinge.  He wore it parted down the middle and spread over his shoulders.  But his eyes were what caught your attention.  Deep-set and coal-black, almost as dark as his hair, they were piercing beneath the heavy lids, looking right through you rather than at you.  And he positively reeked of danger.  The resemblance to Bobby Wallace, except for his unhealthy pallor, made Shawn very uncomfortable.

Following closely on his heels was a very tall, very muscularly built man with long brown hair, hanging almost to his knees, with skin so pale he could have been carved out of marble.  But his eyes were a deep blue, almost violet, they were so dark.  Alert and very aware of his surroundings, those deep eyes took in everything around the man walking so gracefully towards them, the barest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

The voice kicked in again over the speakers.
The virginal brides file past his tomb
Strewn with time's dead flowers
Bereft in deathly bloom
Alone in a darkened room
The Count

"Gentlemen.  Chéri.  Allow me to introduce myself.  Derek St. James.  Owner of Pagan's."  He made a slight bow at the waist, keeping his hands in his trouser pockets.  The deep Creole-Louisiana drawl confirmed his heratiage, but was still unexpected to be so strong this far from the bayous.  "Richárd," he called to a different bartender than the one who'd served them their drinks earlier that evening.  "Call for the ambulance."

"Right away, Mister St. James."

Derek tilted his head barely at the man behind him. "Sébastien, please see the lovely lady safely into a cab.  Complimentary of Pagan's of course.  And if you gentlemen would be so kind as to follow me."

The brunette turned to Stacy, offering her his elbow.  "Miss Kiebler, if you will please?"

Speechless, Stacy took his elbow, but not before she glanced back over her shoulder to see Edge, Al and Shawn all moving away with St. James towards the back of the club.

They'd taken about three steps away when Edge asked, "What's this about St. James?  Do you know where our friend is?"

Derek nodded, continuing to move deeper into the nightclub.  "I do.  I've had the pleasure of Miss Prynne's company for the past hour.  However, she claimed to feel unwell just recently, and I thought it best to summon an ambulance, given her color and shallow breathing.  She asked me to fetch you.  I assume, " he looked over his shoulder at them, those dark eyes hard to read.  "That you are Al Snow, and Edge, I believe it was?  Yet, I was unaware there would be a third joining you."

"She didn't know."  Shawn spoke up.  "You said 'Miss Prynne'?"

"That was how she introduced herself to me, yes.  Miss Hester Prynne."

"Oh dear God."  Shawn murmured.  "That's not her name."

Derek chuckled as he paused by a closed oak door marked with a brass plate that said simply 'Private'.  "I thought not.  Very unlikely that parents today would name a child after the most notoriously fictionalized adulteress of the nineteenth century."

"Yeah, well, Nan's always been a little different.  Especially in the sense of humor department."  Edge commented dryly.

"Delightful lady."  Derek murmured.  "Under different circumstances I would have loved the opportunity to get to know her better."  He opened the door, gesturing them to enter what was obviously his office, which they did.

It was empty. 

~<>~

July 23, 2004 - Friday -  9:08 p.m.
Casa de Nash - Key Largo, Florida
 

"But the story doesn't end there,"  Shawn murmured into the quiet room.  "The really bad part, for me anyway,  was yet to come."

Nan seemed to withdrawn in on herself, tucking her knees up under her chin, and wrapping her arms around her legs, not really wanting to hear what else had happened that week.

~<>~

February 7, 2002 1:24 p.m.
Lake Mead Hospital - Las Vegas, Nevada 

He stared at himself in the mirror, inspecting the three days worth of beard growth.  He looked like an old man.  But going through this shit would age anyone prematurely.  For three days she'd been laying as still as death in the hospital bed.  He'd never been so scared in his life. Or felt so helpless.  This must be what she went through for years watching Bobby slip away from her.  Especially that last year when he hardly ever left Intensive Care.  Now he knew, personally, why she hated hospitals so much.  Watching someone you love just waste away, and you had to stand by, helpless, unable to prevent it, was not his idea of a good time.  It was more like his idea of…purgatory.

But she wasn't wasting away, he reminded himself firmly.  They'd taken her off the respirator two days ago, about twelve hours after she'd been brought in.  And she was breathing on her own.  With the benefit of an oxygen tube, granted, but she was doing it by herself.  The doctors had told him repeatedly that her brain functions seemed to be just fine.  Perfectly normal. 

But she just wouldn't wake up.  It was almost like she didn't want to.  And he couldn't really blame her, not after what Al and Edge had told him had gone down three nights ago.

He'd faced some nasty things in his life.  And usually those nasty things were over two hundred pounds of raw hatred in the squared circle.  But the worst had been when he had to call her parents the morning after he'd brought her into the emergency room to tell them she was unconscious, and wasn't waking up.  Her mother almost had  a nervous breakdown on the phone, torn between needing to be with her husband and wanting to go stay with her daughter.  That's when he found out that her Dad was also in the hospital recovering from quadruple by-pass surgery. 

None of her family could come stay with her.  Actually, he'd not even asked once finding out about her dad.  He'd volunteered to stay with her in their place.  And her mother had gratefully accepted.  So it had just been him, with a few exceptions, like Stacy Keibler's visit the next day.  He hadn't even known the two women knew each other, before running into her at the club when he'd gone to get Nan. 

Stacy had been a wreck, mumbling something about she should have stopped Nan from drinking so much.  He'd tried to tell her that it wasn't her fault.  That the alcohol Nan had consumed hadn't done this to her.  And that there was only one man alive today who ever had the ability to stop Nan from doing something she had her mind set on.  And that man lay in another hospital room fighting for his life, some two thousand miles away.  He wasn't too sure that the leggy blonde Diva believed that, but at least she'd stopped crying.  And she hadn't been Nan's only visitor.  Edge and Al had stopped by to say they were leaving, on to the next show, but they promised to check in.  And Kane had come as well. 

That one bothered him the most, he thought with a grimace.  He never had understood what she saw in the Big Red Machine.  No one really did.  But what disturbed him the most was watching the huge wrestler sit silently beside her bed, holding her hand, and just staring at her as she lay there, unmoving.  He seemed…sad…as sad as one could be behind a mask making no noise.  He'd asked if Kane wanted him to leave.  So he could have some time alone with her.  But Kane just shook his head.  After about an hour of no movement, no sound, save for the soft hiss of his breathing behind his mask, Kane stood and turned to him, that one pale eye gleaming with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine.  Kane had asked him…no, ordered him…to call him when she was ready to go home.  He'd come and get her himself.

She was really lucky, he supposed. They'd found her sprawled over a table right outside of the Ladies Room, out cold, her skirt hiked up to her waist, and her underwear was missing.   Shawn was positive he'd aged ten years right there on the spot. 

But they'd gotten her up, into the ambulance that that St. James guy had called, and to the emergency room.  Immediately, he'd sent Al and Edge back to their motel.  He wasn't on the WWE payroll anymore and couldn't be touched.  But they were.  And considering how things had gone down a few hours earlier with the McMahon-Helmsley regime, he didn't want those two to lose their spot for helping a friend.  No, he was more than capable of handling the heat with this one on his own.

And there his nightmare had begun.  Tests, toxicology reports, physical exams, police reports, forms to fill out, dealing with her parents, and convincing the hospital staff that he had permission to act as her next of kin for the duration of her stay.

An extraordinary case of wrong place, wrong time, the cops had told him. The police had also told him that no less than four other women had been given Special K at Pagan's that night.  All four of them had been beaten and raped.  One of them had died.  If it hadn't been for St. James, squirreling her away in his office, until she'd decided to go to the bathroom, Nan probably would have been the fifth.  And he hadn't been so sure when they'd gotten to her that she'd not been raped.  After all of that, he'd seen the doctor, only to play the good news bad news game. 

Good news:  She'd not been raped.

Bad news:  She was unconscious and they didn't know when, or even if, she'd be waking up.

The room reeked of roses.  Single roses, in pairs, in large vases filled to the brim, even wrapped in the Velcroed clutches of the most sickeningly adorable white Coca-Cola Bear he'd ever seen.  Every one of them were deep a blood red color.  And all of them were from St. James.  None of the flowers had cards, yet Shawn knew they were from him because that's what the delivery person had said each time.  But the bear had a card.  It simply read,  'Derek St. James, day or night' in a very bold and precise scrawl, followed by a telephone number.  Only the bright purple Mylar balloon with a happy face on one side and "Get well, NOW!" on the other side was from someone not St. James or her family.  And that one was from Jericho.

On impulse, Shawn pulled the card off the bear, and turned it over, something he'd not done before when it had come in that very morning.  In the same scrawled handwriting it said, The perpetrator has been discovered, and has been summarily dealt with.  If you ever pass this way again, I would dearly like to see you.  If not, have a happy life, 'Miss Prynne.'  DSJ.   

"Summarily dealt with," Shawn repeated quietly to himself.  For some reason, the phrasing alone made him uneasy, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.  Unsure as to why, he pocketed the card and tore up the envelope, tossing the bits into the wastebasket by her bed.

He sighed, watching the doctor scribble something on her chart as the nurse took her blood pressure.  That had been two days ago, and he was having serious doubts if she would ever wake up again.  They'd warned him that was a definite possibility, since they still really didn't know what the long-term effects were of the drug she'd been given when it was mixed with alcohol.  But he wasn't wrestling right now, and he had the time to take.  For a while at least.  But he was giving serious thought to stepping back into that ring, just to beat the ever-loving shit out of Hunter for what he'd done to her. 

Yeah, Al and Edge both, as well as other inside sources of his, had told him that Hunter wasn't the one who'd drugged her.  He hadn't even been at the club.  But to him, it didn't matter.  His ex-best friend was a married man who knew how she felt about him, and he'd encouraged her anyway, only to turn his back on her a few minutes later. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if Al hadn't walked in on them when he did.  No.  As far as he was concerned, Hunter was responsible for her laying here in this bed, just as he would be if he'd have been the one to drop that shit into her drink three days ago.

"Doctor, I think she's coming around," the nurse called quietly as she checked her instruments again.

The doctor fixed him with an encouraging look.  "Mr. Michaels, she might respond better to a familiar voice."

Shawn scrambled to her bedside, clutching at her hand.  "Hey there, hon.  Come on.  Open your eyes.  You can do it.  Please, baby doll.  Open those big doe eyes and look at me."

Her eyelids fluttered, then opened.  But they closed again immediately, squinting up as she moaned painfully.

"The light.  It's hurting her."  Shawn looked up at the doctor.

He nodded.  "It's normal.  A side effect of the drug.  She'll be photosensitive for a few days.  But it should wear off within a week or so."

Once the nurse had closed the blinds and turned off the overhead lights, leaving only the light beside the hospital bed burning, the doctor nodded at Shawn.  He lifted her hand up to his face and rubbed the back of it against his stubbly cheek.  "Baby doll, come on.  Open your eyes again for me.  We've dimmed the light.  It won't hurt this time."

After a moment or two of coaxing, her lids fluttered again, and opened tentatively.  Those glazed brown eyes went straight to him.

"Hey there."  Shawn's face lit up in a bright smile, and an unexpected lump formed in his throat.  "You scared me, kiddo.  Not fair to do to an old man like me."

Her lips parted to say something, but no sound came out.  Alarmed, her eyes flashed to the doctor then back to Shawn.  The nurse offered her a sip of water from a straw in a plastic cup.  Nan's face contorted into a painful grimace when she swallowed. 

"Burnsss," she rasped.

The doctor stepped forward.  "Yes, it will burn for a little while, but it'll fade soon.  I'm Doctor Berliner.  Think you're up to answering a couple of questions for me," he asked as he flashed a penlight in her eyes briefly, testing her pupil response, and noting something on her chart.

"Ssshoot," the raspy sound came again.

Berliner smiled at her.  "What's your name?"

"Nannn-ette Ellll-ee-an-nor Ellll-ee-ott," her words slurred badly, her mouth not forming around them correctly.  She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, her brows furrowing together as she heard how she sounded.  Like ET.

He nodded.  "And who's this man sitting here with you?"

Her eyes moved over to him, and this time she made a concentrated effort to speak clearly.  "Sssh-Shawnie." 

Immediately Shawn felt a cold knot of dread form in the pit of his stomach.  She'd not called him 'Shawnie' in years.  He shared an intense glance with Dr. Berliner.

"But your haiiir…what'd you dooo to it?"  Nan questioned Shawn curiously, her words coming through a little more clearly, the more she spoke.

"What's wrong with his hair, Miss Elliott?"  The doctor's mouth turned down slightly.

"Wrong colorrrr…he's a blonnnde."  She dropped open her jaw and began to move it around in circles, trying to work out some of the stiffness.  Her eyes clearly showed her frustration at sounding like she did.

Shawn felt like he was going to throw up.  He'd not dyed his hair blonde since he was teaming with Marty, some eighteen years ago.

"Miss Elliott, can you tell me who the President is?"

Nan's eyes looked puzzled up at him, once she tore them away from Shawn's hair.  "Yeah…Ronald Regan."

Berliner nodded, making a note on her chart.  "And what year is it?"

"Nineteen eighty-six."  Now she was speaking clearly as herself again, and she smiled.

"And how old are you, Nan?"

"Seventeen.