Title: Where It All Begins...Again
Author: Empress
Email: Empress@thewaysideinn.net
Distribution: Empress' Private Library and The Wayside Inn  All others ask first.
Rating:  R - for language and violence.
Category: Number 12 in the Behind the Scenes series, following #11 Just Like Bogie & Bacall.
Characters: Hunter/Nan; Chris Brannan; Y2J/Rosie; Evolution; the Diva Wannabes; Coach; Hurricane; a new OFC; and of course, Dixie the Wonder Wiener Dog!
Spoilers:  None.  Takes place during RAW of July 26, 2004.
Warnings:  Language, and maybe a couple of disturbing memories.  That's about it.  No sex in this one, sorry.  Well, there is a little foreplay and teasing, but it doesn't go anywhere.  However, there is the lovely description of a naked Hunter running across a hotel room!  Gotta use your imagination for that one though.
Summary:  I hate writing 'em…but you want 'em…so here ya go.  Hunter and Nan show up at RAW for The Iron Man Match.  Someone meets them there and needs their help.  Nan and Ric have a conversation.
Author's Notes:  Got a lot this time…so I'm gonna number 'em.
1.  There's really not that much of a single story to this one.  But when you stop and consider that I ended one story arch with the last chapter, then it only stands to reason that I'm setting up another story arch with this chapter.  Yeah, some things from the last arch will carry over into this one, like the unanswered questions.  But for the most part, we're moving forward and bringing in new problems, new characters, and just generally stirring up the batter a little bit.  Makes for a much spicier cake!  Guess we'll have to see how this one bakes out, huh?
2.   Also, please note that this chapter is just the setup to the Iron Man Match.  The actual match and what happens 'behind the scenes' will take place in Chapter 13: Man of Steel, which according to my current timetable should be out before the end of the coming weekend - September 26, 2004.
3.  While I'm aware that there was absolutely no interaction between the Diva Search contestants and the RAW Superstars, I ask you…where's the fun in that?  So, for the purposes of my own sick, demented, and twisted mind, they aren't kept separate backstage, and can come and go, and interact as they so please.  And of course, that means, if you're a Christy Hemme fan…hate it for ya.  Again, please remember that this chapter was written before the winner was announced.
4.   Lastly, some of you are gonna have a problem with how this story starts.  And some of you may even want to express your opinions to me on gun control.  But, I'll tell you this before you start.  Express away; just leave me out of it.  Regardless of the fact that in this fictional tale, 'little Nan's' first experience with a gun was at seven years old, the story itself of the gun and the rats is entirely non-fictional.  Except for one part.  'Nan' was seven.  I was five.  My paternal grandfather taught me how to use a gun in this exact same way.  And my older brothers are still pissed off that I'm a better shot than they are.  Hey, I'm a country gal, having grown up in rural North Carolina.  What do you expect?  However, I do not advocate handing a seven-year-old a pistol!  Now, a five-year-old….
Feedback: Always.
Disclaimer: Not mine - Vince's.  Some are mine and I'm keeping those.  No money made.  I'm out of witty repartee this week for the disclaimer.  So I'll just go with this: 

SPACE FOR RENT
363-555-7846 

On with the show.

It was 1970-something
In the world that I grew up in
Farrah Faucett hair-do days
Bell bottoms and eight-track tapes
Lookin' back now I can see me
And oh, man did I look cheesy
But I wouldn't trade those days for nothin'
It was 1970-something
       Nineteen Something - Mark Willis

October 3, 1975 - 4:43 p.m.
The Harrell Coliseum - North Carolina 

She wasn't supposed to be down here.  She knew it, too.  She'd probably even get a whippin' for it when Granddaddy found out.  And he would find out.  He always did.  But she'd figured it out a while ago that some things were worth the whippin'.  And this was definitely worth it.

He was here.  She'd seen him in the parking lot when she came in after school.  But he was already going downstairs when he spotted her dangling half-over the railing, hollering his name and waving for all she was worth.  He'd smiled at her, blown her a kiss, and said he's see her after the show.  And he never broke his promises to her.  Never. 

Except he didn't know that Momma had called and told Granddaddy that she was on her way to pick her up.  Daddy was home early and they were gonna go to the fair.  Daddy knew he was here and that she'd be upset at not getting to see him, but he said he'd make it up to her.  He promised to buy her a green apple covered in caramel, ride the Ferris wheel with her, and he might even win her a new bear, at the shooting game.  And if she were real good, he'd even let her shoot some, too. 

That excited her.  She had told Daddy every night when he called, while he was on the road, how Grampa had taken her down to the pack-house next to the corn-crib and taught her how to shoot rats when they came out when he whistled for 'em.  Grampa had called her a 'natural,' whatever that meant.  'Course, Daddy had muttered somethin' about his daddy knowin' better than givin' a pistol to a seven-year-old girl. 

That made her mad.  So she told Daddy that she could shoot better than her cousin Kenny could, and he was a boy and older than her, too.  Daddy had laughed at that.  But he still said he was proud of her.  And he wanted to see for himself how good she could shoot.

All of that sounded wonderful!  And she wanted to go to the fair.  But if she went with Momma and Daddy now, she wouldn't be there after the show to see him.  And she had to see him.  She just had to.

Granddaddy would be mad, 'cuz she'd disobeyed him.  Again.  Real mad, too, pro'lly, she told herself as she steadily crept down the stairs leading to the dressing rooms.  She frowned.  He might even use that 'd' word.  Disappointed.  Her chin wobbled a minute, knowing that hurt worse than any whippin' she might get.  But she pressed her lips together, stuck her sharp little chin into the air, and doggedly plopped one scuffed black Mary Jane, patent leather shoe down onto the next stair, her ponytails swinging over her ears with each step. 

S'okay, she thought as she reached the landing that was right outside of the green double doors that led to the dressing rooms beyond.  Yeah, Granddaddy was gonna be mad.  But not mad enough to keep her from going to the fair with her Daddy, since he'd been gone all week.  And she'd still get to see him.  

She stopped at the doors and looked back up the stairwell.  Empty.  Then she looked down the stairs leading to the underground parking area where the wrestlers always kept their cars and stuff.  Nothing but a stack of pallets and some of those big metal boxes on wheels that they put 'lectrical stuff in.  No one to run back to Granddaddy and tattle on her. 

Just as she reached to pull on the handle to open the door, she heard voices.  Stopping, she froze, her eyes wide, her heart pounding in her chest hard enough to make the picture of the Cowardly Lion and the Scarecrow on her blue and white checkered dress jump up and down.  Then she grinned, recognizing the voice.  It was him and he was getting closer.  But her smile faded. 

He sounded mad.  Really mad.  Really, really mad.  She bit her bottom lip, chewing on it for a minute while she worried the Carolina blue and white ribbons tied around one ponytail, between her fingers.  Maybe she should go back upstairs.  But before she could move an inch though, everything seemed to happen at once.

The door exploded outward about the same time as she heard him yelling in a voice angrier than she ever heard him use before,  "I told you before that you're not allowed down here!  In fact, I don't ever wanna see your face again!  Now get out and don't come back!"

About the same time, something heavy and cold hit her hard on the side of her face, lifting her up off her feet and knocking her backwards.  And she was falling…and falling…and falling.  A voice was yelling but she didn't understand the words.  But she heard cloth tear, knowing she'd ripped her dress.  Momma was gonna be so mad, 'cuz Momma had just made that dress, too. 

She landed hard, splinters digging into her back and bottom.  And she hurt!  Not even crashing her bike into the pear tree headfirst had hurt this bad!  When she opened her eyes, everything was all red and wobbly.  Like red glass, smeared with dark red Crisco.  And her eyes burned too.  She opened her mouth to cry but she couldn't breathe right.  So her cries came out in choking, little screams between the small puffs of breath that she could get.  Panicking, she struggled to sit up but the room started spinning like she was already at the fair and on the Tilt-A-Whirl. 

Then she heard him cry out like he was really frightened,  "Sunshine!  Don't move!"

He sounded like he was right over her, and terribly afraid.  But she was more scared.  She couldn't see good; she couldn't breathe good; and she hurt so bad!  She tried to sit up again, holding her arms out for him to pick her up, looking up for him through that weird red glassy smeary stuff.  She thought she saw him move towards her. 

But something heavy smashed into her right leg and then the stairwell went black. 

~<>~

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the jungle of doubt
To the river so deep
I know I’m searching for something
Something so undefined
That it can only be seen
By the eyes of the blind
In the middle of the night
       River of Dreams - Billy Joel

July 26, 2004 - Monday - 4:43 a.m.
The Omni Hotel - Room 217 - Pittsburgh, PA 

Nothing pulls a man instantaneously out of a deep, peaceful sleep quicker than the sound of the woman beside him crying out in pain or in terror.  But when she does both, the man in question usually comes up fast, fists swinging, heart pounding, and ready to kill.  Hunter was no exception.  He was the rule.

He bolted upright in bed, scrambling for the bedside light, knocking over his water bottle and the digital clock in the process.  Light blazed into the room with the flick of the switch, searing his eyes, rendering him blinded for a moment.  Unseeing, he groped for her across the sheets.

"Baby?  Nan!  What is it?  What's wrong?!"  His only answer was a pained, frightened moan a little further down the mattress than he had expected.  Blinking furiously, trying to get the floating blue ball of light out of his vision, Hunter jerked the sheets and blankets back, only to illicit an even more intense moan from her.

"H-hunter…it h-hurts!  M-make it s-stop!"  Nan cried, choking on her tears, and stuttering, her face contorted in agony.  "P-please!"

She was curled up further down the mattress than she should have been, and lying on her right side facing him.  Her arms were wrapped around her lower legs, and she was trembling so violently that the bed was vibrating.  Her leg.  He breathed a smidgen easier, his pounding heart taking its time to slow.  This he'd dealt with before, also in the middle of the night, when her leg was giving her trouble.  But this was the first time she'd not just either walked out the cramp or simply woken him up.  This was the first time he'd ever heard her scream in her sleep over it.

"Okay, baby.  Hang on.  Let me see," He dropped his voice to a soothing timbre, almost crooning too her, as he tried to pull her arms away from her legs.  "Come on, baby.  Let me see it.  I can't help you if you fight me."

His touch was feather light and delicate, knowing from past experience that when her leg was acting up, the skin on her ankle and foot became super-sensitive and a rough touch would send her through the roof.  Not for the first time he was glad they both usually slept nude.  Because just getting her to let her leg go, and unwrap the tangled sheet from it was hard enough.  Having to peel away a gown or pajama bottoms would have been excruciating. 

He got the sheet stripped away from her leg, leaving her foot and ankle covered.  With a gentle touch, he slid his hand between her leg and the mattress, running his fingers down her calf, counting the knots as he went.  Three.  And that was just on the side, not counting the back or any cramping in her foot.  This one was going to be bad.

Cupping his palm around the back of her head, he stroked her hair.  "Baby, I'll be right back.  You need to soak this one before we work those knots out.  Hang on tight."

She just nodded, with a slight whimper, her eyes tightly closed and biting at her bottom lip.  He paused, shocked to see a slight crimson stain on her teeth and lips.  She'd bitten them bloody. 

With a speed he didn't know he possessed, Hunter surged up out of the bed, nearly slinging Dixie across the bedroom in the process.  He bolted for the sitting area of their suite, jumping up onto the chair that blocked the path, placing one foot on the back and riding it down, kicked it out of his path, then dashed into the bathroom beyond.  He flipped the lever that activated the stopper, turned on the huge tub's hot water at full blast, twisted the cold only slightly, then headed back at a fast trot to where she lay.

She'd not moved from where he left her.  And that may have scared him more than anything else had since he'd heard her scream.  That was, until he finished pulling the sheet away from her foot. 

"Oh, shit," he murmured, one hand coming up to his forehead, pushing the hair out of his face.

Her right foot was swollen slightly above and below that discolored patch of skin, but not on the patch itself.  And her toes were bulging just enough to make it look like bending them was impossible.  But her ankle was what caused him to swallow hard.  It also was bloated.  But badly so, making it almost three times its normal size.  His previous thought of this one being just 'bad' was an understatement, and she proved it a second later.  Usually she would just about climb him when he began touching her foot if it was bothering her.  But this time, when he touched it lightly to check for fever, she screamed. 

She muffled it into the mattress as much as possible, but it still split the air around them.  Hunter's ears rang.  Dixie immediately started snarling, growling, barking and snipping at him, obviously thinking he was the one doing the hurting.  He put a quick stop to that just by fixing her with his patented cold stare and yelling her name just once.  She continued to growl and snarl, but the snipping and barking had stopped.  He didn't fault her for that.  He felt like growling and snarling too.  But that wouldn't do Nan any good.

Hunter bent over, and slid his arms under her.  Instinctively she turned towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her head against his shoulder, as he turned to carry her into the bathroom.  He set her gently into the steaming water, taking care to flip her hair over the side so it wouldn't get wet.  She hissed sharply and arched into him as her skin hit the hot water.  And she wouldn't let him go, either.  Seeing no other viable alternative, he slid down into the steaming water with her, taking the opposite end of the tub from her so he could work on her leg.

"Baby, you're gonna have to let me go or we're both gonna drown," he said softly with a half-smile as he pried her fingers from around his neck.  "Now, lean back, and try and relax, okay?"

She nodded, her eyes fluttering closed, but still pinched around the corners.  She propped both arms up on the sides of the square Jacuzzi style tub, and lay her head back against the rim.  Hunter reached over and twisted the taps off, then punched the button to turn on the Jacuzzi jets.  In a few seconds they were enveloped in frothing, bubbling, damn near boiling water.

He repositioned her just a bit so that her leg was lying across his knee, her heel braced on his thigh, so that the jets repeatedly pulsed hot water against her calf.  As gently as possible, he began a light massage on the worst of the knots in her leg, specifically avoiding the swollen ankle.  She withstood his massaging the knots as quietly as she could.  As his strong fingers probed at the cramping muscles, she stiffened, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the sides of the tub.  But he could tell she was in agony.  Pained moans would escape her throat.  Tears trickled slowly from behind tightly closed eyes.  Her whole body would shudder when he'd leave one knot to move on to another.  And every time he brushed that ankle with his movements, she'd almost come up out of the water.

He'd been working steadily on the knots for about fifteen minutes, when she sank her teeth back into her lip. Hunter spoke up.  "Talk to me, baby.  How'd this get so bad?"

Groaning, she shook her head and immediately arched her back as he worked down her calf towards her ankle.  Her movement brought her breasts up out of the bubbling water, long enough for Hunter to notice and frown.  The black and blue bruise from the spiked volleyball two days ago was still there.  But now nice shades of yellow and green were joining the mix.  With the bruise, the knotted calf, the swollen ankle, and the hints of blood on her mouth, she looked like a domestic violence victim.  His stomach rolled at that thought, and his hand slipped, just enough back towards her knee to find that the knot he'd spent about five minutes working out was now cramped up again.  And Nan was starting to pant from the pain.

"That's it.  We're going to the emergency room," he announced, switching off the jets, and flipping the lever that would let the water out.

"No!"  She moaned, her eyes flying open, wide and desperate.

"You don't get a vote in this one," Hunter informed her as he hefted himself out of the tub, and quickly toweled off with one of the thick fluffy towels provided by the hotel.  He spread one towel across the extra-wide ledge of the tub. 

"Arms, baby," he spoke quietly.  When she'd wrapped her arms around his neck as he'd instructed, he bent over, slipped his arms underneath her, and lifted her out of the water.  He set her easily on the towel he'd laid across the ledge, then wrapped her up in another, patting her skin dry so he could get some clothes on her.  Because by God she was going to get medical help.

He hadn't realized he'd said that aloud until she answered him.  "Call Chris then.  Don't take me to the hospital."

"What good can Jericho do?"  Hunter answered shaking his head. 

"Not him,"  she groaned again, stiffening under his touch.  "Chris Brannan.  Your trainer.  He's here in the hotel right?"

"Yeah, he is.  What of it?" 

"He's…he's dealt with this before with me," she almost grunted as he rubbed her leg with the towel.  "He can help, Hunter.  The hospital will take forever, do the same thing Chris will, charge me the same price as to send another Mars mission into space, and we'll be there all day long.  You've got to fight Benoit tonight.  We both need the rest."

"Maybe, but he's not a doctor.  I'd rather you see the doc."

"When we get home.  First thing.  I promise.  But please, don't make me go tonight.  This morning.  Whatever."

Squatted down in front of her, he just stared into her eyes for a moment, his expression just as serious as she'd seen it when he was in the ring, his scowl just as dark.  After scrutinizing her with narrowed eyes, he nodded slightly.  "But only if Chris says it's okay."

When she started to protest, he pointed a finger at her.  "Baby, if Chris says you go, then that's it.  No more arguments.  Period.  You hear me?"

She nodded, just relieved that she didn't have to go to the ER yet again.  "Thank you," she whispered.

Some of his harshness melted away from his face at her quiet words, and he favored her with a long, soft look and tender kiss to her lips, taking care to avoid where she'd bitten herself.  Then he went back to drying her off.

Once all good and dry, he picked her up again, and carted her back into the bedroom, setting her on the bed.  After removing the towels, he began positioning pillows and even going so far as to grabbing the seat cushions off the chairs in the sitting area so that her ankle was elevated high enough to suit him.  Surveying his handiwork, he stepped back and put his hands on his hips, nodding to himself.  A burst of pained chuckles from her caught his attention.

"What?" he asked with a puzzled look.

"Us."  She waved a hand at them.  "Neither one of us are exactly dressed for visitors."

Hunter looked down, a grin curving his lips when he realized both he and she were still naked.  But his smile died away when she bowed up off the mattress, as her leg tightened up again.

"Oh, God!"  She cried out, tears slipping out behind eyelids tightly squeezed shut, as she clutched at her leg.  "Call him, now, Hunter!  Please!"

Fifteen minutes later, they were both covered enough for propriety's sake.  Chris was stumbling sleepily into the room with a little black bag clutched in his hand. Hunter, wearing only a pair of shorts, practically pushed the big trainer through the bedroom door.

Chris came awake immediately upon seeing the redhead lying in The Game's bed. He hadn't known they were still a couple, since he'd not seen her around the arenas in a while.  But then again, he really didn't keep up with the talents' lives.  Just their injuries.  And God knows he didn't socialize with them.  Normally, he didn't treat non-employees. But he had a personal rule.  If someone around him was in pain, and he could help, then he would.  Period.  He'd treated this lady on two different occasions, this being the third.  Vince would hand him his walking papers, if he knew about it.  Maybe.  Then again, maybe not.  The big boss seemed to like the redhead.  But Stephanie, now, if she found out about it, he'd definitely lose his job. 

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her, though.  But he did remember the last time he'd treated her.  Hunter had brought her to him with some pretty ugly abrasions on her knees, like she'd taken a seriously bad fall.  Bad, bloody cuts, deep and filled with little pieces of asphalt, gravel and even some glass.  And with no explanations, either.  But he didn't ask.  If he recalled correctly that'd been almost two years ago.  Right after Hunter had filed for divorce, he thought. 

But her knees weren't the problem this time, though she still bore the scars, faded as they were, on both knees from that fall.  It had to be that leg again.  And he'd only helped her with it once before, back when she had been dating Jericho.  Regardless, none of that was helping her now.  He took a good look at her.

Her face twisted into a pained grimace, tear streaks down her cheeks, and hints of blood around her mouth.  The pale green tank she wore did nothing to cover the horrible bruising across her chest.  But all of that paled in comparison to the twisted calf and swollen ankle that poked out from the thigh-length, black nylon shorts she had on. A little dog was beside her whining, long tail thumping steadily on the mattress, looking up at him like he had all of the answers to solve her mistress' problems.

Chris sat down on the edge of the bed, ignoring Hunter hovering in the background.  Gently, he manipulated her calf, tensing only momentarily at her muffled shriek of pain when he probed her ankle. That sound brought Hunter full up behind him.  "Well, your lungs definitely are working fine.  I know it hurts but I need to see how bad it is.  What'd you do, Nan?"

"Why'd she have to do something?"  Hunter bit out.

"Because her ankle looks like it's badly sprained, Hunter.  And ankles, even as bad as hers is, don't sprain themselves."  He turned back to her.  "So what'd you do, Nan?"

"Volleyball.  On the beach."

"That how you got the bruise?"

"Yeah," she panted, then chuckled stiffly.  "Returned a spike…got the point though."  

"Mmm-hmm," Chris nodded, and reached into his bag for a syringe and a vial of milky looking liquid.  "When was this?"

"Two…two days ago," she ground out, avoiding Hunter's accusatory gaze.

"You wore your brace, right?"

"Brace?"  Hunter barked.  "What brace?!"

But he didn't get an answer, as Nan just shook her head back and forth against her pillow.  "Didn't have it with me."

Chris tsk'd at her.  "And then you walked on it for two more days, too.  You know better than that.  You've been dealing with this for how many years now?"  He adjusted the amount of liquid he was pulling into the syringe, adding just a tad more.

"Almost…twenty-nine," she answered.

"Mmm-hmm.  So you do know better.  Hunter, give me a hand and roll her over so I can get to her hip," Chris asked him.

Shooing Dixie to the other side of the bed, Hunter climbed up on the mattress with her and rolled her towards him just a bit.  She snaked her arms around his neck, nuzzling in.  And Hunter melted.  As much as he wanted to be mad at her, as much as he wanted to grill her about this injury that she never seemed to want to talk about, when she whimpered against his shoulder as Chris slipped the needle into her skin, he just didn't have the heart.

"Okay."  Chris announced, as he tossed the used syringe back into his bag, and stood up.  He looked at Hunter.  "Muscle relaxer.  That'll make the cramping stop and it'll knock her out for a few hours too.  When you get to the arena tonight, come by early and I'll have a some crutches she can borrow until she can get to her brace.  Make sure she stays off that ankle.  And I mean completely.  No pressure on it at all, even once you get the crutches.  At least until tomorrow.  Got me?"

"I got ya," Hunter answered gravely.

Chris tossed him an elastic wrap from his bag.  "Keep it elevated.  Iced.  Wrapped.  No shoes.  You know the deal.  And Hunter, make sure she sees her doctor when you guys get home.  I don't like the way that bolt above her ankle is rubbing so close to the skin.  Don't get up.  I'll see myself out."

Hunter nodded, continuing to hold her close to him, running his hand down her back in a light caress.  "Hey, Chris," he called to the trainer, who stopped and turned back, a question on his round face.  "Thanks."

Chris smiled at the couple in the bed, glad to see her already slipping away quietly into slumber.  "Anytime, Game.  Anytime."

Hunter lay back down, holding her to him but at the same time trying to keep her leg elevated.  He really needed to get to the bottom of this injury, he decided.  He hadn't even known she had a brace that she was supposed to wear.  How could he have lived with her this long and not known about her being on her college volleyball team?  Or that she wore a brace on her ankle when she played?  And why didn't he know all of the details about this injury?  Why was a 'childhood injury' still giving her fits nearly thirty years later?  What else did he not know about her that he should?  Was he that self-absorbed?  Or was she really that secretive?

Then something Chris had said before he left penetrated his brain.  Bolt?  What bolt? 

~<>~

Let Freedom ring, let the white dove sing
Let the whole world know that today is a
Day of reckoning
Let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong
Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay, it's
Independence Day
       Independence Day - Martina McBride

July 26, 2004 - Monday - 6:50 p.m.
I-76 West - Mile Marker 57 - Pittsburgh, PA 

She checked the map once more, jerking the wheel back to the left as the car veered off the road towards the right hand shoulder.  Then she immediately had to pull the rattling deathtrap she was driving back over to the right again as a semi barreled past her, air horn blasting loud enough to make her heart jump out of her throat.  Rattled from the close shave, she trained her eyes back on the road in concentration, actively searching out her next exit.

She couldn't be that far away now, which was a good thing. According to the directions she'd gotten when she'd stopped for an over-due bathroom visit and some kind of grease-ball burger that threatened to come back up, she was only about a half-hour away, give or take, away from the sports-complex, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Spotting her exit, she signaled, exited the Interstate, and began weaving her way through a city she'd never be to in her life.  Checking her gas gage, her heart almost stopped.  Quarter of a tank.  It might get her there in time and it might not.  And she was out of money.  Well, not completely, but close enough.

Of course, Chip had seen to that.  She shook her head, honey blonde waves dancing around her shoulders, fighting back the tears.  No.  Not now.  Crying wouldn't solve anything and it would just make her eyes hurt.  Her eye!

Glancing in the rearview, she breathed easier to see only a hint of the bruising showing through the concealer she'd put on earlier.  It'd be all cool if she could just remember to touch it up when she got to the arena.  No one would ever even notice it.  Hell, she'd spent enough years in drama classes to know how to construct a believable black eye with make-up.  You'd think it'd be almost as easy to conceal the real thing.

But it wasn't.

She couldn't believe she was running.  Finally.  The opportunity had just fallen into her lap and she'd latched onto it with all she had.  If she could just get to Pittsburgh, it'd all be okay.  They'd make it okay.  And she was finally free.

When she'd come out of the bathroom after her and Chip's latest fight, the one that left her with a spectacular black-eye, he was gone.  He'd taken everything, the car, her luggage, her keys, all of her money including checks, credit cards, and cash.  He'd even taken her cell phone.  All he'd left her with was her make-up bag, which she'd taken into the bathroom with her, and her purse.  The purse itself he'd left alone, so all of her collective crap that went into a young woman's purse was still there.  But he'd completely stripped her wallet, leaving only her library card, all of her insurance information, photos of her family, her identification, including driver's license, and some lint.  Which meant he was coming back for her.  Some day. 

He'd done this to her before.  Taking off after a massive fight, which usually he started, leaving her stranded wherever they'd gone, and leaving her only with her ID.  She knew without having to ask that he'd not checked out.  He'd just up and left. 

The first time he'd done that, then shown back up at the hotel two days later to get her, she'd asked him why he'd left her license and stuff.  He said it was a reminder that, unless she wanted to turn tricks to pay for the room, she'd stay right where she was and take her punishment.  Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.  She never had figured out exactly what he'd hoped to accomplish that stupid stunt whenever he'd pulled it.  Well, except for maybe just proving to her he had total control over all aspects of her life.  Control she'd given to him.

Well not any more, by God. Stranded in a seedy motel room that she couldn't even pay for in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, she'd almost broken down right there.  But something odd had happened.  She'd grown a backbone.  Maybe it was because he'd finally crossed that line and actually hit her. 

Regardless of what had caused it, she suddenly heard Nettie's voice in her head,  "If a man ever hits you once, Squirt, you can be guaran-damn-teed that he'll do it again.  Only question is, when?"

So she locked herself in the bathroom with her make-up kit.  When she'd come out, Chip and all their things were gone, as she'd expected.  She just wished she'd had the foresight to take her wallet with her.  But that'd just probably pissed him off even more.  This way, he thought he was 'punishing' her again.   That bought her some time.

She'd sat down on the edge of the bed, and pondered her fate, not really knowing more than she had to get away. Every nerve in her body was screaming for her to run.  But to where? Somewhere, anywhere, but right damn now,  while her window of opportunity was still open. 

The television was on but she hadn't paid any attention to it until she heard that RAW would be in Pittsburgh live tonight.  She knew where she was going.  All she had to do now was to figure out how to get there.

But as smart as Chip Davis thought he was, she was smarter.  Or at least more clever.  Cunning.  Okay fine.  Down right deceitful and sneaky.  Nettie would be proud.  Actually Nettie would probably kick her ass, she'd thought with a bittersweet smile, but then she'd be proud.

There was a pawnshop next to the No-Tell-Motel.  With mixed emotions of regret and fear, she had marched right over there and pawned every piece of jewelry she had on.  Funny how it was that a gold watch, two gold rings, two pairs of diamond stud earrings, a diamond pendant on a gold chain, and one diamond solitaire engagement ring only added up to just a little under a grand.  She really didn't care about any of the jewelry, except for the gold charm bracelet with three gold charms on it, a shoe, a rose, and a hammer.  That one she'd not pawned.  No way.  It had been a gift and she wasn't parting with it.  And she didn't even hesitate over the engagement ring.  It wasn't like she was ever going back to him.  Not breathing, anyway.

With cash in hand, she walked back to the motel, paid the bill, and checked out, without going back to the room.  After all, it wasn't like she had any luggage to go back and retrieve.  When she'd asked, the desk clerk informed her that Lafayette's Motors was the closest used car lot to the motel.  It was even within walking distance, and she'd headed right over, determined to get something that would last just long enough to get her to Pittsburgh.  If it got her to Pittsburgh, then she didn't give a damn what happened to the car she'd spent all but ten bucks on. 

So it stood to reason that, five hours and fifteen minutes later, some seven blocks from her intended destination of the sports-complex where RAW was being held in Pittsburgh, the 1976 Chevy Chavelle she'd paid almost eight hundred dollars for died.  The little bucket of rust and primer coughed once, sputtered, and gave up the ghost.

Muttering curses under her breath, and fighting tears, she swallowed down her fear and anxiety, ripped the white headband off her head, and tied it to the door-handle. With only a buck fifty in her pocket, all that was left after she'd spent five of the remaining ten dollars on food, and three-fifty on tolls, she hefted her purse up on her shoulder, clutched her make-up case to her like a weapon, and set off on foot, praying she'd get there in time. 

As well as in one piece.

 ~<>~

It's a great day
For me to whoop somebody's ass
It's a bad day
So you'd better get offa my back
You might get cold-cocked
If you cross my path
'Cause it's a great day
For me to whoop somebody's ass
       A Great Day - Paul Thorn

July 26, 2004 - Monday - 7:15 p.m.
Monday Night RAW - Arena Entrance - Pittsburgh, PA 

"Volvo."

"No."

"Honda?"

"No."

"Toyota."

"You've been reading Consumer Reports again, haven't you?"

"Hyundai."

"You're kidding me right?  No!"

"Subaru."

"How safe a vehicle is depends a lot on the way it's driven."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about.  Why give you any more ammunition?"

"Ammunition?  Ammunition!  Tell me this.  How many speeding tickets have I gotten in the last two years?"

"One, that I know about."

"One, period.  And how many have you gotten, Earnhart?  Huh?"

"I refuse to answer that question on the basis that it'll get me thumped in the head, I'm sure."

"Eight!  Eight!  The defense rests.  Ammunition, indeed."

"What about a Volkswagen?"

"Your suggestions are getting more ludicrous by the second.  You do know that, don't you?"

"I'd agree to a Lexus or a BMW."

"Oh, great.  Why don't you just pin a hundred-dollar bill to my ass and holler, 'Victim here!  Victim here!'  Do you have any idea how fast those cars get jacked?"

"All right then.  How about a Nissan?"

"The safest car in the world is one that never leaves the garage."

"Now that's a good idea."

"So says the man who drives both a Humvee and a Ferrari.  And speaking of which, when do I get a set of keys to the Ferrari?"

"I'm gonna ignore that.  Chevrolet."

"Now I know you're out of your mind.  Put me down."

He just smiled at her.  "No."

Heads turned through the crowded backstage area of the arena as talent, techs, crew, and security guards alike all stopped and stared as they witnessed something very few had ever seen before.  Triple H, The Game, was walking calmly into the arena, laughing, smiling, and generally engaging in teasing banter with the redheaded woman he carried with no apparent effort in his arms.  And they were laughing about cars of all things. 

Some openly enjoyed the spectacle the couple was making of themselves, those that knew them both.  But others either frowned in disapproval, or some other sinister emotion, or they turned away quickly, not wanting to be seen watching.  After all, he may be laughing and completely at ease, but he was still Triple H.  A man known for his quicksilver changes in mood.  Absolutely the most hated professional wrestler alive today, and in some cases, even one of the most feared.  But watching him with the woman in his arms, a very select few couldn't but help smile.   And an even smaller number went so far as to forget about The Game's truer nature.

"Well, well!  Isn't this cozy," a female voice called out.  "If this a transportation service, sign me up.  I didn't know you had a thing for redheads, Triple H."

Hunter literally saw the warmth and laughter die out in Nan's eyes as she recognized the voice coming from behind them.  A snarl curled her upper lip back, her reddish-brown eyebrows furrowing over dark brown orbs now snapping with fire.  Gypsy eyes, he thought to himself briefly.  And ready to commit murder too.  She hadn't been kidding.  Not at all.  This was an irrational reaction coming from a very rational woman.  Base and primitive.  And utterly serious, unlike the petty jealousy he'd thought it was and had laughed off before.  He wasn't laughing now. 

With a whispered, "I'll handle this,"  Hunter turned around, with Nan still cradled securely in his arms. 

The flexible nut-job, as Nan had called her in Florida, stood there, in a flame orange bikini and insanely high heels. Her red hair pulled up into two ponytails on either side of her head, and she continually twirled the end of one around her finger. With the other hand, she ran a fingernail across her bottom lip in what she obviously thought was a seductive gesture, practically undressing him with her eyes. He'd be the first to admit that she had a great body. But the "little girl sleaze" look did nothing for him. Matter of fact, he found it disturbing. He even disliked it when Nan put her hair in two braids…it made him feel like a dirty old man.

Hunter stared at the bouncing redheaded contestant for a moment, letting his gaze sweep her up and down, with a bored look on his face. She was coming on to him right there in the arena with another woman in his arms. Nan had been right.  This one did have ideas where he was concerned.  Time to set her straight.

"Do I know you?"  Hunter asked, his tone laced with irritation and boredom.  His volume went up a bit, guaranteeing the attention of just about everyone in the backstage area.

"Oh, Triple H!  Like you don't remember me!  But I'll play along."  She giggled as she stuck her hand out.  "Christy Hemme.  Diva search contestant." 

Hunter stared at her until she dropped it, as he evidently did not intend to put Nan down to shake her hand.  "Yeah.  So."

His reaction took her back for a moment.  But then she saw the possessive manner in which he held the woman in his arms.  Like she belonged to him.  And the other redheaded woman was eyeballing her like she wanted to split her skull open with a pickaxe.  While whistling 'I've Been Workin' On The Railroad.' 

Christy's eyes narrowed. She didn't see a wedding ring on his finger or hers.  Which made him free-Game as far as she was concerned.  You wanna play it that way, huh, she thought to herself. Fine, then.  Let's play.

With a catty smile, Christy purred, "Oh, now Triple H, don't be like that.  I thought we understood each other pretty well in New York that night."

The low snarl that went through the arena, for once, didn't come from The Game, but from the wildcat he now held tightly against his chest.  Hunter didn't bother struggling with her.  Instead he simply tightened his arms until she squeaked, and stopped trying to get at the other woman. 

He tilted his head, and whispered in her ear.  "Ease up, baby.  I said that I'll handle this.  Now, stop it."

Nan continued to shoot daggers at the Diva contestant with her eyes, but she breathed out in a huff through her nostrils and nodded reluctantly.  Her acquiescence earned her a quick press of warm lips and tickling whiskers against her temple.  His breath was hot, dancing along her nerve endings, firing off every single one of them.  And she could have sworn she felt the feather-light touch of the tip of his tongue against her skin.  The kiss was fleeting, but it was definitely noticed.  And by more than just the now fuming, bikini-clad woman in front of them.

Christy watched their love-play, her eyes narrowing to slits, a sneer forming across her own face.  She glared coldly at the woman Triple H carried.  She didn't know her name, but she hated her already.

Rhyno strolled past them.  And Hunter could have sworn he heard him mutter, "Oh hell, gonna be Diva Wannabe splattered all over the walls in a minute.  Damn.  And they just mopped this floor too."

He fought back a chuckle, his jaw working lazily as he chewed his ever-present gum.  His lips twitched at the corner just a bit.  But the twitch died and his eyes went cold and flat as he saw the way Christy kept eyeing Nan.  Dismissively.  Like she didn't matter. Granted, she didn't know that Nan meant more to him than just a chick he'd picked up for the night, but that wasn't the point. She was trying to start something, to get Nan mad at him, maybe even mad enough to leave.  Because that's how she'd phrased that insipid statement about New York.  And a lot of women he'd known worked like that.  Manipulative.  He had no tolerance for it any more. 

And he'd just gotten Nan back.  No way was Little Miss Wannabe gonna ruin it, either.  As Steve Austin would have said, Oh, hell no. 

His anger began to boil.  Enough playing around.

He sneered contemptuously at her, his words ice cold and he growled low, but loud enough for their audience to hear them.  "What in that bottomless pit you call a brain makes you think I give a damn about who you are?  What do you matter to me that I should even care whether or not you draw breath on this planet?"

Christy's eyes widened.  That stung, but she wasn't ready to back off yet.  "But, Triple H.  In New York, at the hotel…"

"There was nothing in New York, you stupid bitch," Hunter started to get loud, but halted as he received a nudge from Nan.  She nodded her head over his shoulder.  Turning, he could see the Coach headed toward them. 

"Coach!"  Hunter yelled.  Now he had everyone's attention.

Quickly Coach altered his course and jogged over to them.  He greeted them warmly with a big smile on his face.  "Hey, Hunter.  Hey, Nan!  Good to see you back.  Oh, man, honey!  What'd you do to your ankle?!"

But Hunter interrupted before Nan could answer, growling low in his throat.  "Coach, one of your trained bimbos has escaped.  Get it outta my face before you're minus one contestant."

Coach's eyes went wide and he immediately threw up his hands.  "Not a problem, Game.  Right away."  He flashed a toothy smile, winked, made a clicking noise, and mimed his fingers like a gun at Nan.  "Catch you later, pretty lady?"

Nan genuinely smiled at him, finding him as always, extremely amusing in an over-zealous sycophant sort of way.  He'd have made a great used car salesman.  "Sure thing, Coach."

Nodding, Coach turned, grabbed the stunned woman by the upper arm, his easy smile now gone, and began leading her away at a fast pace, muttering to her all the way.   

Hunter watched them walk away,  with a chilling smirk twisting his lips.  Then he remembered what Christy had tried to do.  And what she'd implied.  He faced the woman in his arms, and began walking back through the arena towards Evolution's dressing room.  "Baby, about what she said…"

"I believe you,"  she interrupted him with a smile.

"You don't even know what I was gonna say."

"Don't I?"  She raised an eyebrow at him, smiling, with no little amount of heat in her eyes.  She lowered her lids halfway, and moistened her upper lip with the very tip of her tongue, then grinned at his involuntary groan.  "See?  Right there you told me all I needed to know about New York."

"She-devil."

"Yup."

"Temptress."

"That too."

"Heartless vixen."

"Damn proud of it."

"And mine."

"Oh, most definitely," she sighed, tangling her fingers in the silky strands of blond hair laying on his shoulders.  She slid her hand up his neck underneath the hair and scored his scalp lightly in small circles with her nails.

"You're making me crazy.  You know that, right," he bit out, blinking his eyes so he wouldn't crash them into a wall.

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the pulsing vein in his neck, stroking it gently with her tongue in time to his heartbeat. 

He withstood that new onslaught for about five more steps.  Finally, Hunter just stopped about three-quarters down the corridor that led to the dressing room.  Giving himself up to her torment, he leaned up against the white cinderblocks, leaned his head back, and sighed deeply. 

"And hotter than the ninth plane of Hell," he moaned, as she began to suck on his skin, very lightly.  Not hard enough to make a mark, because he had to go on tonight.  But just hard enough so his pulse rate sped up and he had to shift his legs.  "Evil.  Pure evil, doing that to me when you know I've got to wrestle an hour long match tonight."

"Two," she murmured, as she continued her torment, sliding up just a bit to the sensitive spot under his earlobe, scraping it lightly with her teeth, before bathing it in gentle swipes with her tongue.

"What?" He queried dazedly, feeling like his eyes were crossing.

"You've got to wrestle twice tonight.  Once with Benoit, and again later with me,"  she chuckled, being very sure to keep her voice low and breathy.  She was thoroughly enjoying herself, knowing he couldn't do a damn thing about it right now.  He'd probably get even with her later.  She was hoping so, anyway.

"You're a tease."

"Never."  She abandoned his neck and pressed her lips against his, slowly running her tongue along the seam.  But she pulled away the moment he parted them to deepen the kiss.  "And I don't tease.  I promise."

"I'll get you for this," he grumbled, but with a smile, again shifting his stance to accommodate…things.

"I'm counting on it."

He laughed loudly, smiling wide.  "I can't believe you sometimes."

"Well, you'd better believe it, brother," a new voice called out.  "She's the real deal."

Hunter turned his head to see Ric poking his head out of the door to their dressing room, a big toothy smile on the older man's face.  But the smile faded to a thoughtful frown the moment he spotted her swollen, wrapped ankle peeking out from the bottom of her skirt.  Randy's quickly followed Ric's head, and then  Dave's as well.

Hunter pushed himself away from the wall as Randy and Dave walked out into the hallway.  "Hey guys."

"There she is.  Hey, hey, Nan!"  Randy called out with a big smile.

She smiled back.  "Hey, Randy.  Lookin' good there, Killer." 

Randy spread his arms wide in what she privately called his 'check-it-out' pose, his patented cocky grin firmly in place.  "As always."

"Nothin' wrong with his ego, that's for sure."  Dave shoved the youngest member of Evolution.  "Good to have you home, kiddo."

"Thanks Dave," she smiled softly, then looked at Hunter.  "Good to be home."

Dave noticed Nan's ankle and asked Hunter,   "Want me to take her, man?"

"Nah,"  Hunter answered, moving around the big man to set her gently on one of the three black couches in the posh VIP dressing room.  "I've got it under control."

"Mmm-hmm.  Sure you do."  Nan spoke with a dry smile.

"Hush, you."  Hunter admonished with a wink as he fussed over getting her ankle elevated enough on the low coffee table to suit him.  Again, he pulled a cushion off of one of the other couches and laid it down on the table,  then repeated the action with another cushion.  Once it was satisfactory, he spoke over his shoulder.  "Randy.  Go see Brannan.  Tell him I sent you to get whatever it is he has for me.  Crutches, I think."

"Sure thing, Hunter."  Randy left the room at a trot.

She looked very pretty sitting there.  Almost like she was holding court rather than simply chatting pleasantly with Dave, he thought.   Hunter's whisky gaze swept her from head to foot, taking in the form fitting burgundy top with matching flowing, gauzy skirt, both of which were overlaid in places with black lace.  She'd pulled that mass of copper hair over one shoulder so it was hanging loosely over the arm of the couch.  Modest, yet sexy as hell.  A combination he approved of whole-heartedly.  The only thing marring it was the beige elastic wrap on her right foot.

"Comfortable, baby?" He asked. She looked comfortable, but he knew from the way she held that ankle stiffly that she was still hurting.  Not as much as this morning.  But she was still in pain somewhat.  And would be until he got her to her doctor.

"Remote.  And I'll be as happy as a hog in slop," she spoke with a smile, holding out her hand.

"Gross image there, baby," he answered with a chuckle as he place the remote control to the television mounted on the wall in her palm.

She simply shrugged her shoulders.  "I'm a country gal.  Comes with the territory."

Hunter nodded indulgently, and noted that Ric had been hanging back, his earlier smile long gone.  He gave an inward sigh.  He'd thought by the way Ric had all but threatened to castrate him if he didn't go after Nan, that maybe the older man would have let go of his animosity towards her.  An animosity that Hunter understood, since it was so blatant that the two hated each other.  He just wish he knew why. 

Normally, Ric would 'play nice' when he was around.  But this time he was just staring at Nan.  No, Hunter noted with a frown.  Not at Nan specifically, but at her foot.  Whatever, he thought dismissively.  He didn't have the time, or the inclination, to figure it out.  Let them work out their own battles.

"Naitch.  Dave."  He motioned for them to come over towards the back of the room so they could speak privately.

Nan clicked on the television, switched it over to Spike, and happily watched the opening credits to Star Trek: The Next Generation until RAW started.  Then she'd planned on switching over to the closed circuit monitoring signal that fed into these televisions.  That way she wouldn't have to watch the commercials.  She turned a deaf ear to the males gathering in the back.

"Listen up.  And make sure you tell Orton this too."  Hunter began seriously, fixing each of them with grave stares.  "Under no circumstances is Nan to be allowed anywhere, anywhere in the arena without a member of Evolution with her.  I don't want her left alone, at all.  That means if she's gotta go take a leak, one of you guys had damn well better check out the can before she goes in there.   Get me?"

Ric frowned.  "What's going on, Champ?  You think she's in some sort of danger?"

"Yeah, what's up, man?"  Dave echoed.

His eyes flicked over to where she sat, peering up at Jean-Luc Picard, with a big grin on her face.  His gaze skipped back to them.  "She's hurt.  And I'm not taking any chances."

"Yeah, I get that.  But isn't this a little extreme for her having a sprained ankle?" Dave asked.

"It's more than sprained, " Ric whispered quietly.  Hunter fixed him with an intense look but he moved on before the younger man could say anything.  "But Big Man has a point.  Why all of this cloak and dagger crap?"

Hunter pointed a finger at each of them, punctuating his words.  "I just had my eyes opened these past few weeks.  I realized that she's got a big target painted on her.  And anyone who wants to get at me can go through her to do it.  Hell, I would if the situations were reversed.  So, better safe than sorry.  At least until she's got use of both legs again."

Ric's frown deepened.  "You don't think someone would intentionally hurt her to get to you, do you Hunter?"

The look on their leader's face was so intense and so dark that it gave them both a cold chill.  "Somebody already has, Naitch.  Somebody already has."

"Who?!"  Dave growled, then repeated softer as Nan turned to see what the Animal of Evolution was upset about.  "Who?"

"I've got a couple of people I'm lookin' at right now."  Hunter commented casually, then clapped a hand on Dave's shoulder.  "But when I'm a little more sure than I am right now, I'll let you know.  Count on it."

"And then?"  Dave asked with an evil smile.

Hunter grinned malevolently.  "And then, their ass is mine." 

~<>~

I wouldn’t if I were you
I know what she can do
She’s deadly man,
And she could really rip your world apart
Mind over matter
The beauty is there but a beast is in the heart
       Maneater - Hall & Oats

July 26, 2004 - Monday - 8:02 p.m.
Monday Night RAW - Arena Corridor - Pittsburgh, PA 

Once Coach saw Hunter and Nan head down the corridor towards the dressing rooms, he let Christy go and turned on her with an angry glare.  "Have you lost your mind?  Rule number one, never engage with The Game.  Not if you don't just want a severe beating.  And rule number two, if you're gonna take your life in your hands and do it anyway, especially don't do it in front of his girlfriend!  You're lucky neither one of them decided to paint the walls with you!"

"He wouldn't hurt me, not if I'm gonna end up being a Diva," she huffed.  "And I'm definitely not scared of her."

"Yeah, you keep thinking that way, and you'll see just how not hurt the Diva wrestlers get.  Especially at The Game's hands.  And you should be scared of her," Coach admonished the petulant woman.

Christy was still pissed, and embarrassed at the harsh rejection of the leader of Evolution.  "She doesn't look like much.  I could take her in a fair fight."

Coach rolled his eyes, clearly unbelieving she could be that dense.  "She doesn't fight fair.  Ever, that I know of.  But especially not when Triple H is at stake.  And she doesn't wrestle.  Or kickbox or any of that other stuff you claim to know how to do."

"Good," she spat.  "What's so damn special about the way she fights then, huh?"

"Because you wouldn't be fighting just her.  You'd be fighting her, and all of Evolution. Not to mention any of her other friends among the talent.  But Evolution, now…they're seriously different.  They protect their own.  And as long as she's with him, she's with them.  Like a family.  A big, mean, violent, severely dysfunctional and emotionally disturbed family, but a family nonetheless.  And I don't think you're ready to take on, say, Batista, now are you?"

She rolled her eyes and grumbled, "Don't be stupid."

He could tell by her posture that she was dismissing his words as trivial.  "Hey!  Listen to me! Nan's unpredictable.  She'd be as likely to just shoot you between the eyes as anything else.  Literally.  Understand me, woman.  Leave…them…alone.  Or you can kiss this contest goodbye, tonight.  We clear?"

Pouting, and still fuming, she mumbled, "Crystal."

He'd meant every word he'd said about Nan. He figured that any woman that lived with The Game day in and day out had to have some serious violent tendencies herself. Just to survive, if nothing else.  He knew from personal experience that she had a quick temper and a wounding tongue.  Plus, he had been there the night she'd laid Jericho on his ass with a vicious right hook to the jaw.  And, frankly, the woman scared him a little.  Although he'd never let her know that.

But Coach could tell the Diva contestant wasn't gonna let this one go that easily.  She had her crosshairs locked on the Game and his girlfriend. And Coach had a bad feeling that this would get a lot worse before it got any better.  He gave a mental sigh.  Maybe she'd lose the competition and it'd be a moot point.  But somehow…somehow he doubted he'd be that lucky.

~<>~

Help me if you can, I’m feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won’t you please, please help me.
       Help - The Beatles

July 26, 2004 - Monday - 8:15 p.m.
Monday Night RAW - Arena Entrance - Pittsburgh, PA 

She was so tired, and her feet ached so badly in those damned high-heels she was wearing that all she wanted to do was to sit down and cry.  But crying wouldn't do her a bit of good.  Nope.  She still had to wait. She'd already spoken to a security guard, told him who she was and who she was there to see.  But he didn't believe her.  No ticket, no entrance.

So here she stood in a crush of screaming fanatics as they tried to get their favorite wrestlers' attention as they walked past them, through the security barrier, and into the arena for the show.  She didn't know who was who.  She never watched wrestling.  Ever. 

But she was looking for a familiar face among those coming and going from the building.  Any familiar face would do, too.  It wasn't like she didn't have a few options.  At least eight that she could remember.  Probably more if she really thought about it.  Yeah, she'd never seen a single showing of WAR or Throwdown or whatever it was called.  But that didn't mean she didn't know a few of the athletes.  And right now, she'd be happy to see any single one of them.  Even the ones she didn't like.  Somebody had to get her inside.

The crowd exploded around her, chanting what sounded like "Y2J" as another wrestler walked past.  This one had a pretty brunette by his side.  She saw his face and immediately knew her chance had come.  But suddenly, she couldn't remember his name. She should know this!  It had been five years since she'd seen him last.  She'd only seen him once or twice back then, but she heard his name all the time during that year and a half.  God!  What was his name?! She wanted to scream in frustration, and pound her fists against her head.  Just as he walked past where she stood, she heard Nettie's voice in her head again, calling him by a nickname she knew he hated.  The word erupted from her lips before she could even think about it.

"Blondie!"

Chris stopped walking so suddenly that Rosie almost plowed into him.  He looked around, a dark frown on his face.  He hated that nickname.  And only one person had ever been allowed to call him that.  But it wasn't her voice.  Someone else had yelled it.  One of the fans in the crowd.  Oh, just great, he thought.  Now it'll be all over the net by tomorrow morning.

"Chris?  What is it?"  Rosie peered up at him anxiously, seeing the tense anger on his face.

He forced a smile down at her, and patted her hand where it was hooked around his elbow.  "Nothing, Rosebud.  Everything's fine."

Determined to ignore it, he started to move forward, when the call came again, this time with some desperation in the tone.  "Blondie!  Please!"

The 'please' stopped him.  Whoever was calling him that knew him.  That or it was one hell of an act.  Either way, his curiosity was now getting the better of him.  He slid his sunglasses up to the top of his head, ignored the screaming hordes of people pressing against the security barrier, and took a good look around.  He passed the face by twice before it clicked in his head. 

"Oh, man!  Tina?!"  Practically dragging Rosie with him, he walked right up to the barrier to the scared looking young blonde woman.  "What are you doing here?"

The minute she opened her mouth, Chris could hear the tears in her voice struggling to come to the surface.  "Nettie.  I…need…Nettie.  P-p-please…get me to Nettie!"

"Okay, Tina.  Okay.  I'll take you to her.  Give me your hand."  Chris extended his hand to the young woman who immediately put hers in it, and steadied her as she climbed over the barricade.  A difficult task in her short skirt and heels.  But she did it.  The minute both of her feet hit the pavement on the other side, the crowd rushed the barrier, pushing the young woman against Chris.  She flung both arms around him, to keep from falling, as he put an arm around her waist to steady her.

He leaned back a bit, tilting her chin up with a finger.  "You okay?"

Tina just nodded shakily, as Chris turned and led all three of them towards the arena open air entrance.

Rosie watched the exchange, her eyes wide, bouncing back and forth like Ping-Pong balls between Chris and the young woman.  She couldn't quite decide if she should be jealous or not.  Just as she was about to introduce herself, since Chris had so rudely forgotten to, a security guard bustled up to them.

"Mr. Jericho, you can't do this.  Only one guest per Superstar.  Mr. Bischoff's orders."  He fixed the blonde woman with a glare.  "Besides, I've spoken to this woman.  She's already tried to get in here before, claiming to be…"

"I know exactly who she is, you assclown!"  Chris retorted, clearly angry.  "And screw Bischoff!  I'm taking her in to see who she came to see and if Bischoff doesn't like it, then let him take it up with them himself!"

In the face of his animosity, the guard held up his hands but still trailed after them.  "Fine.  But she still has to have  a VIP pass and she's not going past the security station until someone authorizes it.  And that means Mr. Bischoff!"

"Then call him and tell him to authorize it!  And get out of my way."  Chris growled at the man as he stormed off.  He led Tina over to a folding chair next to the security station.  She sat down gratefully.

"I feel so stupid," she whispered as Chris squatted down in front of her with a gentle smile gracing his handsome face.

"Why's that?"  He asked softly.

She looked at him, then over at the woman with him, and them back to him and smiled a little wobbly.  "Because I can't remember your name.  Among other reasons.  That's why I called you what I did."

He chuckled.  "You never change, do you, Tina?  Names still aren't your forté."  At her negative shake, he smiled again.  "It's probably a good thing you didn't remember.  I'd have ignored you if you'd yelled that out instead of…well, the other name.  It's Chris.  Remember now?"

"Chris!  Chris Jericho!"  She rolled her eyes.  "And the walls come tumbling down."

"Exactly."  He turned to the brunette beside him, with a smile so full of love that Tina was awed by it.  "And this is Rosie."

"Good.  I'm glad you found someone.  You deserve it."  Tina nodded, extending her hand to the brunette.  "Nice to meet you, Rosie."

"Good to meet you too, Tina."  Rosie smiled as she shook the young woman's hand, her eyes full of questions.

"Oh, you're Australian!  I just love your accent!  I've always wanted to go to Sydney."  Tina grinned, beginning to feel a little better.

Before Rosie could respond, Chris spoke up again.  "Rosebud, I need you to do me a favor, while I deal with Bischoff's stupid ass." 

Rosie nodded.  "Sure, honey.  What do you need?"  Chris looked around at all of the curious faces watching them, realizing they were drawing far too much attention for him to be comfortable.  He stood up and whispered something into Rosie's ear. 

When he was done, she pulled back and looked at him, her eyes huge.  "You're kidding me."

"Nope."  Chris shook his head, smiling.

Rosie beamed, and turned back to Tina.  "Very nice to meet you, Tina.  I'll be right back."

As the brunette practically ran into the heart of the arena and down a corridor to the left,  Tina commented casually,  "She seems very nice.  But what was that last about?"

Chris grinned.  "I told her who you were."

"Okay."  She deadpanned.  "Why does that matter?"

"It doesn't to most people.  But it does to her."  At her confused look, he continued.  "Don't worry about it.  You'll find out soon enough, I'm sure."

He noticed the security guard motioning to him about the same time that Bischoff came barreling through the doors at the opposite end.  "Uh, Tina.  Sit tight.  And don't leave until Rosie comes back.  No matter what.  I'll be right back."

Tina watched him go halfway into the heart of the building to argue with a black haired man.  She was alone again.  With distrustful, suspicious, and even openly hostile glances being tossed her way.   

~<>~

It's so hard for me to say I'm sorry
I just want you to stay
And after all that you've been through
I will make it up to you
I promise too
       Hard To Say I'm Sorry - Az Yet

July 26, 2004 - Monday - 8:20 p.m.
Monday Night RAW - Evolution Dressing Room - Pittsburgh, PA 

Randy sat on the floor at Nan's feet, twisting the wing nut on the metal crutches that Brannan had given him.  This made the fourth time Triple H had made him adjust the height of those crutches.  After the second time, Randy had given up and plopped down on the floor, in his wrestling gear, leaned back against one of the couches, crossed his long legs at the ankles out of in front of him, and adjusted the crutches again.  He ignored how much the rough carpet made the backs of his thighs itch.  And how the cheap vinyl of the couch made his back sweat, and stick to it.  He didn't say anything though.  Because sometimes, with Triple H, it was better to keep your opinions to yourself.  He'd learned that the hard way early on in his association with The Game and The Nature Boy.  And that's exactly what he was gonna do too.  Shut up, and adjust the crutch.  As ordered.

He looked up at the redhead, who stood leaning into Hunter's side.  Triple H sat on the coffee table, his arm around her waist, his fingers curled around her hipbone.  She stood precariously on her good foot, her arm around Hunter's shoulders for balance, while Dave and Hunter argued about the proper height of the crutches to do her the most good.  Randy could tell by the look on her face that it was irritating the snot out her that they were discussing it like she had no say in the matter.  Silently, he agreed with her, knowing what it was like to have three other people decide for you, how best to live your life.  Hell, she was the one who had to use the damn things. 

But she caught his look and rolled her eyes a little.  He nodded, barely, the corner of his mouth crooking upward in a hint of a smile.   He could see that she was now fighting back a full grin.  So he did what any self-respecting 'Legend Killer' would have done.

He crossed one eye, stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, jutted his jaw and chin forward, and arched one eyebrow right up into his hairline.  She broke up, her laughter swelling up, and bubbling over until she was tearing up over it.  It was infectious, and soon Randy was laughing along with her, much to the irritation of Triple H.

"Will you two knock it off!" Hunter snarled.

Randy immediately ducked his head, fixing his gaze back on the crutches laying across his thighs.  He did his absolute best to cover his snorts of mirth…and failed miserably, unable to keep his shoulders from shaking.

"Orton," Hunter growled in warning.

"Hunter, lighten up."  Nan chuckled, moving her hand from around his shoulders to run her fingers through the hair hanging in his face, smoothing it back from his forehead.  "It's just a set of crutches.  Not brain surgery.  No need to be so serious about it."

He fixed her with a censoring glare.  "It's a serious thing to me."

"And very sweet, too," she nodded.  "But Hunter, you've only been dealing with me about this for two years now.  I've handled surgeries, wheelchairs, casts, braces, infections, and yes, even crutches since…"

Her eyes flicked over at Ric briefly, not surprised to see him turn abruptly away from her gaze.  "Since I was a little girl.  How about trusting me to know how to deal with it?"

"You don't deal with it.  You ignore it."

"Point taken,"  she sighed, knowing this argument was just beginning.  Maybe not now, but soon.  And if the truth be told, it was overdue.  So she gave in.  "Okay, how about trusting me to at least know what height the crutches should be?"

Hunter just looked at her for a moment, then slid his gaze first at Dave and then Randy, both of whom nodded.  He cast his eyes over at Ric.  But the older man was engrossed by the image of Deanna Troi on the television.  He turned back to Nan.  "Alright.  But I'm not apologizing for taking care of you."

"I'm not asking you to."

"And this conversation is far from over."

She nodded.  "I understand."

Hunter consented with a snort.  "Do it."

Nan turned a bright smile on Randy.  "What notch you got it on there, Killer?  From the floor up?"

"Third," he answered with a matching grin.

"Set 'em both at fifth, raise the grips up one, and hand 'em over."

As the youngest member of Evolution set about to do just that, Hunter grumbled at her, "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

Nan leaned down and bussed his cheek.  "Because you looked like you were having fun.  And far be it from me to spoil your good time."

Surprising her with a quick spin, Hunter grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down onto his lap.  "Brat."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she smiled, and whispered softly, "Bully."

"Here ya go, Nan."  Randy grinned, holding up the crutches.

Dave helped her up off of Hunter's lap and stood by as she tested them out, walking beside her a few steps as she pivoted around the room at a faster gait than any of them would have expected.  She halted in the middle of the room.

"Pretty impressive, kiddo," Dave grinned.

"Hey, watch this."  She balanced the stoppers firmly on the floor, pushed up, and swung herself back and forth briefly, both feet off the floor, then set her good foot back down.  With a big grin, she lifted one crutch off the floor and spun it around in her fingers like a really big baton.

Hunter, however did not appear to be amused at all.  He stood up and pointed first at her and then at the sofa.  "Now."

"Bully," she repeated, lowering the crutch back to the floor, and jamming it back up under her arm. She hopped back over to the couch, and lowered herself down on it, placing her ankle back on the cushion before Hunter could do it for her.

"Damn, Nan," Randy commented.  "You move around on those things better than most people do on their own two feet."

"I should,"  Nan said with a laugh. "I've spent a good portion of my life on the things."

Unexpectedly, Ric collapsed onto the couch, hard enough to make the cushions hiss, and covered his face in his hands, bracing his elbows on his kneepads.  Before anyone could question his odd behavior, someone knocked on the door.  At Hunter's nod, Dave went to answer it.

"Well, well.  Look at what we have here."  He said in a low appreciative tone.  He kicked his head back in a short nod.  "Rosie.  How you doin'?"

The attractive brunette smiled with a low laugh.  "Fine, thanks.  Is Hunter here?"

Dave stepped aside as Hunter walked up to the door.  "Rosie, what's up?"

She peered around her brother, seeing Nan sitting on the couch and waved at the redhead, who waved back with a smile.  She looked back at Hunter.  "Can I talk to you outside for a few minutes?"

"Yeah, sure.  I've got a little while before I've got to get into my gear."  He looked back at Nan.  "Back in a few, baby.  Remember what I said, guys."  He closed the door as he left with Rosie.

Silence reigned for a moment in the dressing room, until Dave addressed Ric.  "Naitch?  You feeling okay?"

"Randy.  Dave.  Take a walk."  Ric replied, without looking up.

"What?"  Randy asked, surprised at what he thought the wrestling veteran was saying.

Ric looked up, but not at them.  "I need to talk to Nan.  Alone."

After sharing a perplexed look and getting a confirming nod from her, Dave and Randy left the dressing room, leaving Nan and Ric by themselves.  For a moment, Ric didn't move.  Or speak.  He simply stared down at the floor.

Just as she was beginning to get a little uncomfortable, he finally spoke.  "Have you told him?"

She hesitated, "No."

"But you will."  It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," she sighed.  "I've kept it from him for too long already.  You heard him.  He's not going to let me dodge it this time.  I really don't see where as I have much of a choice other than to tell him.  Do you?"

Still looking at the floor, Ric spoke slowly.  "No.  I really don't.  Guess I'd better pack up my things then."

"What?"

He looked up and held her gaze.  "You really don't think he's gonna let me stay around after he finds out, do you?  You know how he is when he thinks someone's betrayed his trust. No, once Hunter finds out what happened between us, it'll be all over.  Someone better tell the fat lady she's on in five." 

~<>~

That was one of the drawbacks of the older arenas.  The doors and walls were paper-thin.  People could overhear just about anything.  He stood just outside of the doorway, a sinister grin curving his lips.  Oh, this was too good.  The Nature Boy was screwing The Game's girl.  He laughed softly, feeling a deliciously evil warmth spread throughout his body.  Finally, finally, he had something.  Some leverage.  Now, how to use it? 

He turned his head sharply, hearing footsteps headed his way.  As quickly and as quietly as possible, he slipped further down the corridor and away from the Evolution dressing room.  Everyone he passed on the way couldn't help but notice the smile on his face, and wondered what had caused it.   

~<>~
 

"Ric," Nan began, her brows furrowing together.  "You didn't do it on purpose."

He vaulted up off the other couch and began pacing, his face flushed and angry.  "You think he's gonna care about that?!"

"I thought we settled this back when we met up at the café.  I told you then that I knew it was an accident.  I've always known.  Please don't tell me you still feel responsible for what happened."

"Don't feel responsible?"  He stared at her, his eyes wide.  "How can I not feel responsible!  In one stupid moment of inattentiveness I left you a…"

Her eyes narrowed, anger sparking in their dark depths.  "Go on, Ric," she sneered.  "Say it.  A cripple.  Right?"

"I didn't say that!"

"You didn't have to!  Your whole attitude towards me since I came back tonight says it for you.  You won't look at me, and when you do you stare at my leg, and all you see is a poor little crippled girl!"

"That's not true!"

"Then what is, Ric?!  What is it that you see?"

"A woman whose life I almost ruined!"  Twice, he wanted to add, but didn't. 

Nan stared at him.  "How in the hell do you think you ruined my life?"

Ric stalked over and stared down at her.  "Do you still dance?  Ice skate?  How about wrestling, Nan?  You wanted to be a wrestler when you grew up, remember?  Did you get to do any of those things?  Did you?!"

"No," she whispered softly.  "No, you're right about that.  Partly.  I can't skate anymore, that's true.  And dancing I can do, sparingly.  But you're wrong about the wrestling part.  I never wanted to be a wrestler."

"That's not what you told me."  He snorted in disbelief.  "Once you told me who you were, I thought about it a lot.  And I figured that's why you hated me when we met up again when I left WCW."

"Then you're remembering it wrong," her voice wobbled for a moment.  "I told you I wanted to grow up and be your manager.  Not a wrestler.  I wanted to wear those long pretty dresses and walk with you to the ring.  And that's not why I hated you when I first met up with you again three years ago."

"Then what is?"

"Because I thought you hated me.  I've thought that for almost twenty-nine years."

"What the hell are you talking about?  I didn't even know who you were…" He paled and practically ran backwards away from her as her meaning sank in. 

"Exactly.  You didn't remember me," she whispered, an old pain surfacing in her voice.