Title: I Will Fear No Evil
Author: Empress
Email: Empress@thewaysideinn.net
Distribution: Empress' Private Library and The Wayside Inn  All others ask first.
Rating: R – language only.
Category: Number 16 in the Behind the Scenes series.  Follows #15 Going For The Gold.
Characters: Hunter/Nan; Shawn Michaels; Chris Jericho/Rosie; Tina Elliott; Dave Batista; Kurt Angle/ Emma; Shane McMahon; Stephanie McMahon; and lots of OFCs (Original Fictional Characters) - of Nan's family.
Spoilers:  None
Warnings:  This one is about death.  Read at your own risk.
Summary:  I still hate writing 'em, and this one's no better…Nan's parents 50^th Wedding Anniversary party has been postponed due an unexpected death in the family.  Tina sets into motion something that will change the course of her life and the lives of those around her.
Author's Notes: Back to the numbering thing:
1.       Due to the size of this one, it will be posted in two separate parts.
2.       Moccasin Gap, NC and Douglas Airforce Base are both my own creations.
3.       Song lyrics not credited are "Me And My Bobby McGee" by Janis Joplin and "Angel Band" by Emmylou Harris, respectively.
4.       This chapter has heavy and frequent Biblical and Christian faith references throughout.  And I make no apologies for it.  So if this offends you, or you're not interested, then, skip this one.
5.       Again, please remember I do like Stephanie McMahon and in no way should her portrayal in these words be taken to represent her true character rather than her on screen persona.  Translation:  I still feel guilty for making her into a Mega-Byatche, but as usual, I did it anyway.
6.       However, I do apologize in advance for the heavy depression factor in this installment. But I had to write it or it was gonna drive me insane.
Feedback: Always.
Disclaimer: Most of these are mine.  Only the WWE Employees belong to Vince.  If he wants to sue me over using them, let him.  I don't own anything of value, unless he just has to have my twenty-year old album collection.  But for the record, I'm always willing to barter for a good Southern fried chicken dinner.

 
Up and down that lonely road of faith
I have been there
Unprepared for the storms and the tides that rise
I've realized one thing, how much I love you
And it hurts to see, see you cryin'
I believe we can make it through the winds of change
       Lonely Road Of Faith - Kid Rock

August 23, 2004 - 10:46 p.m.
Sports Complex, Anaheim, CA 

A loud bang, followed quickly by the sounds of shattering glass and even more cursing, though muffled as it was, could easily be heard from behind the closed bathroom door.  Nan rubbed her forehead with a wince as it sounded like the bathroom sink was being ripped off the wall then thrown…she cocked her head, listening…out of the window? 

Whoo boy, she sighed to herself.  She'd known tonight wasn't gonna be pretty.  But she'd had no idea that this was going to happen. 

Hunter was so mad he could barely breathe without spewing obscenities at people.  Herself included.  The tirade continued for what felt like forever.  When she could actually hear JR and King again from the monitor hanging on the wall, Nan's eyes shot over to the bathroom door, fully expecting to see it breathing or something.  Or maybe even explode off of its hinges.

She chuckled to herself as that last email from Rosie sprung to mind.  Hunter's sister was forever sending her things to make her laugh; but that last one reminded her of something she'd say about Hunter and she couldn't help but think of it now.  It was of a little old woman, Maxine, from those Shoe-Box greeting cards, saying Dear Lord, I pray for: Wisdom, to understand a man.  Love, To forgive him and, Patience, for his moods.  Because Lord, if I pray for strength, I'll just beat him to death! 

"Amen," she whispered under her breath.  Yep, that was Hunter and herself to a tee.  She'd have to remember to thank Rosie for that one.

Cautiously, she lifted herself off the couch and reached for her crutches with a small grin.  Even in the face of these dire consequences, she couldn't help but feel immensely relieved that Dr. Ashby had pronounced her well enough to leave Speed Buggy behind and go back on her crutches, a week early no less.  Begrudgingly, she had to give partial credit to Hunter.  He'd diligently worked with her every day getting her to strengthen that ankle and leg, unwilling to let it stiffen up on her.  The man had been a tyrant.  And damn him, she thought with a soft laugh, he had enjoyed every minute of it too.

The utter lack of noise from the bathroom, to where Hunter had retreated, wiped away her grin.  He'd stormed into the room, furious, red-skinned, veins in his neck bulging, and she was truly concerned that he may be on the verge of a stroke.  Then she'd gotten a good look at his face, and she still shuddered, remembering the strings of…snot…dangling from his chin.  For once she'd been glad that he'd done nothing more than skewer her into her seat with a look that brooked no vocalizations of any kind. 

Yeah, she loved the man, and she hated seeing him like this, especially when she understood his motivations for excommunicating Randy from Evolution.  And normally, she'd try and calm him before he gave himself an aneurysm.  But snot was snot.  And a girl did have her limits.

Okay, so Randy was pissed off, probably hurt too, and understandably so.  But hocking a monster lugie in Hunter's face…that was just nasty.  She shuddered again, fighting bile rising in the back of her throat at the memory.  Her thoughts wandered back to the closed door.  If all were quiet on the western front, then it may just be safe enough for her to brave the lion's den.

Before Nan could make it to the door, her cell phone went off, the tones of Bach ringing too loudly in the near silent locker room.  Cursing under her breath at being thwarted in checking on Hunter, she turned on her crutches and hobbled back to where the phone lay singing happily on the low table.

Snatching it up, she flipped it open and answered without checking the Caller ID first.  "Nan Elliott."

She didn't really know why she answered her phone without the normal greetings and only her name instead.  But she always had.

"Oh, hi Debbi."  She grimaced, rolling her eyes. 

Debbi Haley was the former fashion writer for Every Day Living, the women's magazine that Nan worked for.  It was no secret that there was no love lost between them.  And, per the recent emails from her co-workers, that animosity had only grown since Nan had turned down the Managing Editor over the writing staff position.  Debbi had gotten the job in her stead.  But everyone knew Debbi was second choice.  And apparently she had an axe to grind about it too.  But Nan was willing to play nice.

"What can I do for you, Deb?  Yes, I am aware that the company picnic was two weeks ago."  This conversation wasn't starting out well, Nan thought with no small amount of annoyance.  "I was in the hospital, that's why.  Darren was perfectly aware…"

Nan trailed off as Debbi interrupted her.  The locker room door opened to emit both Dave and Ric.  She waved them in and pointed to the phone, making hushing motions with her free hand, balancing precariously on her crutches.

Listening to the whiney voice on the other end of the line, Nan's brows pulled down together into a frown, and a thundercloud gathered on her face.  "Will you repeat that please?  You can't be serious!  Does Darren know about this?!  What about Tim?!  I didn't think so," she smirked nastily.  Her volume then went up considerably.  "Let me get this straight.  I missed a voluntary company picnic due to being in the hospital fighting for my life and you're fucking firing me for it?!"

Ric and Dave both stared at each other, then at her, their mouths hanging open in shock.  Dave shook his head in disgust and fell into a loose legged sprawl in a nearby chair.  Nan raged on at her boss on the phone, unaware that Hunter had come back into the room, drawn by the sound of her voice raised in anger.

"Oh, I get it.  Better than you do, apparently.  Check the laws of termination in North Carolina and you'll know exactly what I'm talking about."  Nan paused as Debbi spoke again.  "Hell fucking no!  You're not getting a voluntary resignation!  You want me gone from EDL, then honey, you'd better have the balls to back it up once Tim and Darren get wind of this horse shit you're pulling!  Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a wedding to attend!  Oh, and Debbi?  Expect a call from my attorney in the morning!"

With a violent snap, she closed the cell, disconnecting the call.  Glaring down at the phone with a look of bloody death in her eyes, Nan breathed heavily for a moment.  No one spoke, all three sets of male eyes wide and staring at her.  In a hot blast of temper, Nan shrieked out a colorful, creative, and truly obscene expletive and hurled the phone at the concrete wall.  It exploded in a spectacular array of bits of plastic and computer chips.  Without another word, or even a glance at the men in the room, she hobbled angrily out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

"Son of a bitch, " Ric murmured in awe.  "Where in hell did she hear that one?"

"Ryan Reynolds."  Hunter answered absently, knotting the towel at his waist more securely.  At Ric's blank look, he explained.  "On the set of Blade Trinity.  It was one of his ad-libs that they left in.  She liked it."

"Damn, but that was ugly."  Dave remarked with an amused chuckle.

Hunter turned glittering eyes on them.  "What happened?"

"They fired her."  Ric explained.  "For missing some voluntary picnic or something."

"But she was in the hospital," Hunter argued.

"So we heard."  Dave nodded.

"They can't do that!  Can they, Naitch?"  Hunter asked.

"It's illegal!"  Ric raged.

Dave shrugged.  "Does it matter?  They just did."

Before Hunter could comment, his own cell went off.  "What now?"  Grumbling, he retrieved it from his bag.  "Yeah!  Oh, hi Mom," he greeted Nan's mother, the anger in his voice bleeding away.  He grinned.  "Yes, our flight out is tomorrow.  We thought we'd swing by the house first and get a change of clothes.  I don't know what's on the agenda for your anniversary party, but I can't wait…What?  No, she ah…had an accident with her phone.  That's probably why you couldn't reach her."

Hunter ignored Dave's rolling eyes and muffled cough.  "No, Mom.  She's not here right now.  She went to Kane's wedding."  He went quiet for a moment.  "What do you mean cancelled?  Why are you canceling the party?"

His face drained of color and he staggered over to fall into a chair.  Nodding, his voice dipped low.  "No…I understand.  What time?  Yeah, we'll be there.  I'll tell her."  He ran a hand down his face, and Dave and Ric were almost positive they could hear his voice wobble a bit.  "Of course.  Okay…see you tomorrow.  And Mom?  I'm sorry.  Love you too.  Bye."

Slowly he disconnected the call.  He closed his eyes for a moment, then shut the phone.  Opening his eyes again, he sat silently, blankly staring down at the phone between his hands. 

Ric began to worry when he didn't speak.  "Champ?"

"Naitch," Hunter spoke softly, "Would you go and sit with Nan during the ceremony?  Once it's over, quietly, and don't draw any attention, bring her back here.  She can't stay for the reception."

"Hunter?"  Dave asked tentatively.

"Dave…find Tina.  Same with her…no unnecessary attention.  I need them both back and ready to go as soon as you can get them here."  Hunter instructed.  "I've got to make a call."

Without asking, assuming that if he'd wanted them to know what was going on that he'd have told them, both Ric and Dave got up and left the room quietly.  Once he was alone, Hunter opened his phone and punched in a number from memory, slightly surprised it came so easily to him.  On the second ring, it was answered.

"Hey, it's me.  Just…just…hold up a second, okay?  I know you don't want to talk to me, and that's fine.  Be pissed at me all you like.  I'm not calling for me.  Can I talk to him please?  Thanks."  Hunter waited a moment until another voice answered.  "Hey.  Wait…wait…come on, gimme a chance…just hear me out, okay?  She needs you.  Can you be at Holy Oaks on Thursday?  Yeah.  No, she doesn't know yet.  Okay.  At two.  You know the way, right?"  Hunter coughed, struggling to swallow against the lump forming in his throat.  "I know.  Okay…see you then.  And Shawn?  Thanks."

First she'd been fired and now this.  Hunter tossed down the phone, and ran his hands through his hair, wondering how he was going to tell Nan that her beloved Uncle Wesley Harrell had just passed away. 

~<>~

God is great indeed
If you believe, in the everlife
Yeah we gotta
Make some sense of the piece that's not defined
And if you just hold on, I won't let ya fall
We can make it through the storms and the winds of change
       Lonely Road Of Faith - Kid Rock

August 24, 2004 - Tuesday, 2:39 p.m.
United Airlines Flight 3189 – Somewhere over the mid-west. 

She was too quiet, Hunter decided, his eyes roaming over to where Nan sat beside him on the airplane.  She'd spoken hardly a word since last night when he'd told her.  He'd thought for a brief moment that she would break down when he delivered the news.  But she hadn't.  Instead she'd sighed, dropped her head for a moment, then quietly got up and began gathering their things to go back to the hotel. 

He even half-expected that she would talk to him about it once they were alone in their room.  But again, nothing.  Other than the unhealthy pallor of her face and a lack of appetite, there was no outward reaction.  Admittedly, his death really hadn't been a surprise.  Her uncle had been diagnosed with cancer a little while ago. 

They'd given him six months. 

He'd made it three. 

So no, it wasn't a surprise.  Regardless, it was still a hard loss for her.  If he had known better, he'd have sworn that she didn't care.  But that was utter garbage, and he knew it. 

The woman had adored her uncle.  He knew that like he knew his own name.  Get those two in the same room and everyone else sort of ceased to exist to them.  The first time he'd seen it, that first summer he'd gotten to know Colonel Harrell, he had thought it to be kind of weird.  But her mother had assured him that their absorption with each other was normal for them.  Her uncle and aunt had never had any girls.  Three boys, and countless numbers of foster children, not to mention the vast amounts of airmen that frequented the Harrell home, but not a girl among them.  She'd explained that when Nan had been born, and her brother had seen that shock of red hair that she shared with their own mother, Colonel Harrell had immediately declared that Nan should have been his daughter and proceeded to treat her as such.

Given their closeness, it really disturbed Hunter that she wasn't grieving for him.  It made him worry that this was only the calm before the storm.  And quite honestly, he didn't know what to do about it.  He'd lost both his grandmother and his father.  But as much as he loved them both, his mother had managed to keep him isolated from them.  At first it had been a physical isolation.  But later, as Kit wore down her son's sense of self-worth over the years, it was more emotional isolation than anything else.  By the time they both died, though many years apart, Hunter didn't know how to handle the grief he felt.  So he didn't.  He just sort of shut down those emotions.  But Nan and her family weren't like his. 

Thank God, he amended silently. 

He'd never known such a large and diverse set of people that were as close as they were.  And although an outsider might think they hated each other given how they treated one another sometimes, they'd be in for a rude awakening if anyone screwed around with even a single member.  Very clannish…but given they were largely Scottish and Native American in origin, he sort of understood it.  It was the old, I can beat the shit out of him because he's my brother, but you try it and I'll take you apart and put you back together wrong, type of attitude.  Given that mentality, it didn't make an iota of sense to him for Nan's lack of emotion to this loss.

He glanced over at her again.  At first he thought she was just sitting quietly, her face turned away from him, staring impassively out of the window.  But on closer inspection, he saw her eyes were closed, and her breathing even and deep.  She was asleep.  Muffling a sigh, he looked away, slipping his hand down into the pocket of his trousers.  His questing fingers curled around the velvet box he'd placed in there earlier that day.  Absently he stroked the soft material, lost in thought.

They'd re-arranged their original flight reservations, electing to catch a red-eye back that night.  They'd landed in Stamford, Connecticut at nine in the morning, after an eight-hour flight.  Quicker than he'd ever thought possible, they'd gotten to the house, re-packed their suitcases, and while Nan got Tina and Dixie settled, he'd gone into town on an errand.  Four hours after they landed, they were back at the airport just in time to catch their flight to Charlotte, North Carolina.  They'd only slept while on the differing airplanes.  And then they still had to look forward to the forty-mile drive from Charlotte to Moccasin Gap, Nan's hometown.  After, of course, meeting the family at Colonel Harrell's house right outside of Douglas Airforce Base, in Charlotte.

He'd not told her what he'd gone into Old Greenwich to do.  But she'd not asked either.  He fingered the box again.  He'd not stepped foot in the Chadwick-Hearst Fidelity Fiduciary Bank since he was twenty years old, right before he left town to pursue his dream as a professional wrestler.  And it hadn't changed a bit in fifteen years; right down to the nearly ancient security guard that escorted him downstairs where the safety deposit boxes were kept. 

Without even stopping to question his own motivations, he used his key to open the box his Grandmother Helmsley had set up for him when he was sixteen.  It really wasn't a box, per se.  More like a drawer, one of the larger ones at that.  And it was more full than he remembered.  She must have continued adding to it until she passed away when ten years ago.  Her legacy to him, her only grandchild.  But that wasn't quite true.  He made a mental note to go through the contents later, get everything appraised and properly insured, if they weren't already.  And he'd pass on a portion of those items to Rosie.  It was only fair; she was Grandmother's grandchild just as much as he was.

In it, he found a copy of his birth certificate, some insurance papers, stocks, bonds, at least two deeds, a collection of antique coins, a stamp collection, several small jewelry boxes, as well as three or four larger ones.  He didn't waste time with all of those, knowing exactly what he was looking for.  Reaching for the square burgundy one in the very back, he pulled it forward, and opened it, and peered down at its contents.

Before he could change his mind, he closed the box with a snap, then shut the drawer, locking it back.  He walked over to the counter, slipped the velvet box into his trouser pocket, and then signed the forms, declaring what he'd taken out.

Leaving the bank, he headed straight for Carlisle's Jewelers, preferring to walk the two blocks to the store.  Once there, he requested Mr. Carlisle, the owner, and after sharing a few pleasantries, he presented the box to him.  Mr. Carlisle's eyes grew wide recognizing immediately what he'd been given, and to Hunter's satisfaction, cleaned the piece and informed him of the size.  Perfect.  No change was needed.  He thanked the elderly gentleman for his time, compensated him well, and walked back to the bank's parking lot to retrieve his car.

As the red Ferrari ate up the few miles back to his house, he gave serious thought to what he'd just set into motion.  No way his mother was going to not know what he'd done.  Not that it really mattered to him one way or the other if she gave a damn, he told himself.  But even he knew that wasn't quite the case.  Nothing going on at Chadwick-Hearst Fidelity Fiduciary Bank ever escaped her notice.  He really hoped that when she found out - and she would since she still owed controlling interest in that institution - that she'd pop a nutty over it. 

He flashed a sinister grin.  Her reaction wasn't the reason for doing this.  But fringe benefits were a wonderful thing.  Granted everything in that box was his to do with as he pleased, and she couldn't do a damn thing about it.  Still, with the removal of that particular piece of jewelry, she'd know what that entailed.  And he really hoped she ate herself alive over it.

He'd growled at the thought, the engine on the powerful car doing the same, as he shifted gears.  "Self-centered, self-consumed, viperish bitch."

The murmured sound of his own voice saying that aloud in the airplane drew his attention back to his surroundings with a jolt.  He really had to stop dwelling on his mother so much.  It made him lose track of what was going on around him.  Very dangerous in his line of work.  Giving the box in his pocket one last light caress, he pulled out his hand and glanced down at his watch.  Another hour before they landed, and the real nightmare began.

Hunter leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him, and closed his eyes.  Usually they rented a car and drove in from Charlotte/Douglas International Airport.  But he was so tired, that he immediately decided to arrange for either a limousine, or a taxi if a limo wasn't available, to take them to the Harrell's and then to the hotel.  They'd get a car for their stay once they got to her hometown.  Surely even a place as small Moccasin Gap had a car rental service somewhere.

But sleep wouldn't come. 

His mind kept drifting back to Nan and Tina's odd reaction to the whole thing.  Strangely enough, Tina had taken the news in the same, stoic, calm manner that Nan had.  Monday night she'd proficiently gotten Dixie ready for travel, said goodbye to Hurricane, and left with them for the hotel.  She couldn't go with them on to North Carolina, since she had to register for the fall semester on Thursday.  So, she'd offered to keep Dixie at their house with her.  Quietly, Nan had agreed and that had been that.  Tina wouldn't be attending the funeral. 

Hunter frowned to himself.  Something was off about this whole situation and the way the two women were reacting…or not reacting, more accurately.  It made him exceedingly glad that he'd had the foresight to get someone to check in on Tina while she was by herself in Connecticut, with her whole family over six hundred miles away.

~<>~

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
       Psalm 23:1

August 24, 2004 – Tuesday, 5:59 p.m.
Douglas Airforce Base – Col. Wesley Harrell's house – Charlotte, North Carolina 

The taxi pulled up in front of a neat, two-story brick home with an expansive green yard stretching in all directions, hemmed in only by a well trimmed hedgerow.  As usual, the first thing Hunter noticed about the house was the Harley Davidson motorcycle parked in the grass near the garage.  He reached back to help Nan from the taxi, and turned his attention to paying the man after he'd retrieved their luggage from the back.  A small distressed sound from Nan pulled his attention from the bags back to her.

"What is it, baby?"

Nan just pointed, then dropped her hand, and wrapped it around the grip of her crutches, starting up the cobblestone walkway leading to the front steps.  Hunter looked to see what caused her upset, and his eyes immediately fell on the flagpole in the front yard.  That was always the second thing he noticed about her uncle's house, the American flag flying proudly, snapping crisply in the summer breeze. 

Today it was at half-mast.

With a heavy sigh, he shrugged a bag up onto his shoulder, grabbed the handles on their rolling suitcases, and started up the walk after her.  Before either of them could reach the porch, the front door opened with a bang as the screen door slammed against the side of the house and two small cherub looking little girls came tumbling out.  Pushing, shoving, and generally smacking each other senseless, they scrapped their way across the porch and down the front steps, stopping short as they almost plowed headfirst into Nan.

She cracked her first smile since Monday night.  "Hello there," she grinned at the two girls, the older of them not a day over six.

The youngest immediately hid behind her older sister, who stood peering up at them, their eyes wide.  "Does I know you?"

Nan's grin grew.  "Yes, Molly.  You do, but I doubt you remember me because you weren't but three when I saw you last."  She looked over Molly's shoulder at Leslie and whispered, "And Leslie there was just a baby."

"She still is!"  Molly declared emphatically with a backward shove of her elbow and a grimace to her dark eyes.  Her black curls bobbed with her motions.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Are so!"

"Am not!"  Leslie denied, still hiding behind her sister.

"Are too!"

Leslie's face looked like it was about to crumble.  She pushed her brown hair out of her eyes.  "How come?"

Molly planted a fist on her hip and gave her little sister a glare that could have frozen water.  "'Cuz I'm older and I say so!"

Hunter barked out a laugh at that childish reasoning, drawing Leslie's attention.  She looked from him to Nan and back again, her eyes growing wider with each pass.  "He'th big."

"That he is."  Nan smiled again.  "That's Hunter.  And I'm Nan, your daddy's cousin.  But you can call me Nettie."

Leslie's mouth dropped open into a perfect 'o,' while Molly hollered at the top of her little lungs.  It was a substantial volume considering her small stature.  "Daddy!  Nettie's here!!"

And with that subtle introduction, the two little girls were off like a shot, fighting all the way around the side of the house and into the back yard.  Almost immediately after they were out of sight, the screen door banged open again.  Nan looked up to see who was there, and her breath caught in a choked gasp.

"Pitt," she whispered, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.  She'd not seen her cousin in almost three years, but it never failed to amaze her how much he resembled her uncle, his father.  It was uncanny.

Pittman Harrell, called Pitt by all of his friends and family bolted down the steps and grabbed Nan up in a back breaking hug, pushing her crutches out of the way, where they clattered loudly on the cobblestones.  He continued to hug her for a moment, tightening his arms, to the point where Hunter could hear her vertebrae pop back into place.  When the two cousins finally parted, Hunter could see the unmistakable sheen of tears in Pitt's eyes, where Nan's remained bleak and dry.

"Damn, Honeybee," Pitt murmured, falling back on the English translation of their grandfather's nickname for her.  "It's good to see you.  I just wish…"

"I know."  She answered when he couldn't finish.  "Me too."

Pitt nodded, then noticed the crutches lying on the walk.  "Damn.  I'm sorry."

"I got 'em."  Hunter bent to retrieve the crutches, as Pitt really couldn't release her without her falling over.  "Here ya go, baby."

Nan hopped away from her cousin, and took the crutches, jamming them up under her arms again. 

"Good to see you, Pitt."  Hunter stuck out his hand.

"Forget that, man.  You're family."  Pitt smacked his hand away and treated Hunter to the same bone crushing hug that he had Nan. 

"Family?"  Hunter chuckled, pounding him on the back

Pitt stepped away and grinned at the taller man.  "Yeah…you're livin' in sin with my cousin, ain't ya?  See?  Family.  Deal with it."  He turned around, and took half of the bags from Hunter.  "Come on in, the rest of the immediate family's already here.  The others should be here by the time of the service on Thursday."

"Others?"  Hunter queried as Nan followed Pitt up the steps.

"Yeah," he grinned over his shoulder at him.  "The foster brothers.  Not all seventeen of  'em could make it.  But I think most of 'em will show.  And don't think for one second you're gettin' out of some serious ribbin' from them over your livin' arrangements with Honeybee here."

Hunter sighed as he went into the house and the bosom of Nan's family.  Seventeen foster brothers.  Damn it was going to be a long week. 

~<>~

A mixed emotion, a state of mind, infatuation of a different kind
Hesitation's holding me back from you, fascination's drawing me near
There's a strange reaction caught between attraction and fear, oh oh
You make me nervous, makin' me nervous
You make me nervous, I wanna hold you, but I'm scared I lose control
You make me nervous, makin' me nervous
You make me nervous, what you're gonna say or what I'll do I never know
       You Make Me Nervous – Sheena Easton

August 25, 2004 – Wednesday 8:47 p.m.
Hunter & Nan's House – Greenwich, CT 

Tina curled up on the large leather couch in her aunt's and uncle's living room, listening to the harsh downpour of rain going on outside.  Fitting, she thought.  It matched her mood.  After an unproductive afternoon, she abandoned her own apartment in favor of the homey comforts of the upstairs a few hours after Nettie and Uncle Hunter had left for North Carolina.  She'd even slept in one of the two guestrooms up here last night. 

She told herself it was for Dixie's sake, as she scratched the little dog's ears absently.  Being upstairs in her own home made it easier on her after being left behind by her favorite humans, Tina reasoned.  If she were even a little honest with herself, she'd admit that it was easier on her too. 

She knew that Uncle Hunter probably thought she wasn't affected by Uncle Wesley's passing.  But that wasn't true, she sniffed miserably, scrubbing at her face with her hand.  She had loved him too.  But she had a meeting with her advisor and the Dean at school tomorrow.  And unfortunately that meeting couldn't wait.  Nor could the one after it.  She really hoped the rest of the family would understand. 

She clicked the remote, aiming it at the television, and continued to watch the tape she'd put in.  Soon her eyes were filling with tears again, and she began to wish she'd not turned down Shane's not-so-subtle hints that he should come stay with her.  She shook her head, irritated at herself.  She still had too much to figure out as far as he was concerned. 

It wasn't like he was pushing her.  Not really.  She knew he was interested in pursuing her more seriously than at the speed at which they were currently running.  But she wasn't sure that's where she wanted to go.  Not yet anyway.

She'd had a long talk with herself after Summer Slam in Canada.  She knew that her fascination with Shane had been a rebound situation.  After all, she'd just fled from her last relationship.  An abusive one at that.  And Shane was the first nice guy to be interested in her in so very long.  So yeah, it was probably rebound.  But that didn't necessarily mean she should dismiss a relationship with him.  He was a nice guy.  Cute, funny, smart, and she really enjoyed his friendship.  But…

Her thoughts drifted back to that kiss, the second one, she and Dave had shared.  Dave…she frowned.  Dave did weird things to her middle whenever she saw him. It felt like her high school marching band was having a parade in her stomach whenever he looked at her with that crooked, sideways smile of his. His dark eyes seemed to stare all the way through her whenever she caught him looking at her, which was more often now than when she'd first met him.  Her heart pounded, her mouth went dry, and her stomach dropped into her feet.  The same reaction Nettie had told her she got when Uncle Hunter looked at her.  And it made Tina wonder….

She knew there was a pretty substantial age difference between them, but that sort of thing had never mattered to her.  Or any member of her family, come to think of it.  After all, wasn't there a fifteen-year age gap between Ramón and Angela?  With Angela being the elder in that case?

And if anything, Dave being older than her made him more attractive.  Tina sighed.  The man was just too damn hot to be legal.  He was lethal, too all right…lethal to her hormones at least.  Now, his being Uncle Hunter's best friend did give her pause.  That could become quite sticky.

Tina huffed at herself, realizing the turn her thoughts were taking.  She was already assuming that they'd end up in a relationship.  And right now that was bloody unlikely, as her Grandma liked to say.

Dave wasn't talking to her.  Or she to him.  Not since she'd stormed out on him in Canada.  And actually, she was sort of glad of that since she'd watched him so gleefully beat the living hell out of Randy the next night.  She still couldn't decide how she felt about that.  Nettie had practically ordered her to talk to Uncle Hunter about it.  But she hadn't yet worked up the courage.  Not that she was afraid of him.  That idea was laughable.  It was more that she was afraid of what she'd find out.  Namely that she couldn't handle that side of him.  And that it would adversely affect their relationship. 

She loved him to death.  In a lot of ways, although he didn't know it, he was closer to her than her own dad.  She and her dad hadn't seen eye to eye in a long time.  Ever since he'd married Katie – whom she really did like, she reminded herself – they'd lost some of their closeness.  And that loss was only magnified when she left for college.

Her logical mind argued that it had been due to her only being sixteen when he and Katie had married.  And then Katie had tried to be her mom.  By that time though, Tina only acknowledged one woman as mom, if she acknowledged any at all, and that was Nettie.  Boy, that had led to some horrific fights, she remembered.  Even with her staying at Nettie's house more than she stayed at her own.  Until Nettie had moved in with Uncle Hunter.

Although she'd never told Nettie, that had been the reason she applied to Yale for college.  So she could be near her aunt.  Nettie had told her back in the Spring of her senior year in high school that she and Uncle Hunter had been talking about moving in together.  Uncle Hunter lived in Connecticut.  And Tina instantly applied to Yale…just in case.  Her dad had nearly choked when she got accepted.  He didn't like the idea of her going so far away…until Nettie had reminded him that Hartford was only an hour from Greenwich.

And that had led to even more fights, but these were hushed up, and often took place between her dad and Nettie, behind closed doors when they thought she wasn't around.  But she knew about them.  And to this day, Nettie wouldn't tell her why they'd been arguing so badly over it, no matter how often she asked.  Eventually she stopped asking.

The blinking light on the answering machine drew her attention.  She didn't have to check the messages to know who it was.  Shane.  He'd already called her six times since Uncle Hunter and Nettie had left.  When she didn't answer in her apartment, he'd started calling her up here.  She probably had an equal number on her machine downstairs.  On the sixth call, she'd finally told him that she really needed to be alone right now.  When in reality, that's the last thing she wanted.  But she couldn't stand the thought of him hovering over her right now either.  He'd said he understood.  He didn't like it though, and he even sounded a little hurt. 

She groaned, propping her head on her hand.  Man, she thought.  My life is getting about as bad as one of those cheesy Danielle Steel romance novels.  All melodrama, tragedy and sex.  Well, minus the sex part anyway.

Tina was jarred back to reality when a heavy knock fell on the door.  Dixie exploded off the couch in a flurry of snarls and growls, barking at the top of her lungs.  Heart pounding because no one had called up to the house to be buzzed through the gate at the end of the drive, Tina sat up, her eyes wide in fright.  Almost immediately though, she laughed at herself.  Uncle Hunter had told her that several of his friends had the code to the front gate, and she had even given it to Shane.  Chiding herself for beings so skittish, she got up and headed for the entryway, with Dixie in front, hauling ass up towards the door.

As she approached it, caution overtook her again and she found herself reaching for, ironically enough, the sledgehammer Uncle Hunter kept in the corner.  She flipped the porch light on.  Hefting the ten-pound sledge, she peered through the peephole at the face beyond, squinting back at her in the sudden shock of light and deluge of rain.  Her stomach slammed into her feet, and she laughed at herself again, laying the sledge on one shoulder before twisting the deadbolt and opening the door.

"Jesus.  First you blind me.  Then you're gonna slug me with that thing?  What'd I do to deserve that?"

She quirked a blonde brow at him.  "You didn't call to be buzzed through.  How was I supposed to know you weren't some deranged serial killer, huh?"

He fixed her with an indulgent smile, and her stomach rolled.  "Serial killers don't knock at the door waiting to be let in by blondes toting sledgehammers.  If they want in, they just break through a window."

"Know this from experience, do you?"

"Are you gonna let me in or not?"

Tina set the sledge back down in its place and made a sweeping gesture with her hand.  "Be my guest."

He came in, shrugging the water off his coat, and hung it on the coat rack, while she shut and locked the door behind him.  He reached down to pet Dixie who was currently all but dancing in place at his arrival.  Standing, he followed Tina back into the living room.  He grinned, seeing Dixie jump up into Hunter's chair, turn around three times, and then settle in with a contended sigh.

"What brings you up this way in this monsoon outside?"  Tina asked as she took her seat back on the couch.

"Hunter asked me to come by and check on you while they were gone."

She nodded thoughtfully.  "You sure that's such a good idea?"

It was his turn to quirk a brow at her.  "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Dave, ever since Canada, you keep looking at me like I'm gonna attack you or something."

"Do I need to be worried," he teased back.

To his dismay, she didn't smile.  In fact, her face fell into a thoughtful frown.  "No.  Not tonight."

He didn't answer that, not really wanting to know the meaning behind it.  After a moment, he huffed,  "You got a towel or something?  I'm soaked here."

"Sure.  Hang on a sec."  Tina unfolded her long legs from underneath her and strode into the kitchen, aware of his eyes tracking her movements.  Odd, but she had kinda missed that about him.

Dave watched her go.  Despite his own teasing words, he had to wonder if she had been right.  When Hunter had asked him to check on her, he'd immediately agreed.  No hesitation.  Later though, he'd remembered what had happened the last time they'd been alone together.  Now he wasn't so sure if Hunter's request hadn't been akin to asking the fox to watch over the hen house.

He gave himself a mental shake.  The girl's just had a death in her family, you idiot.  You're just here as a favor to a friend.  Nothing more.  Yeah.  Right.  He was a paragon of virtue.  Wait…hadn't that been one of Angle's catchphrases?  Ugh.

Tina came back in and tossed a dishtowel at him.  He caught it as she sat back down beside him, just out of arms reach.  Toweling off the water on his face, he ran it over his hair, then folded it up, and laid it on the end table.  Tina was watching him and grinning.

"What?"

She giggled.  "Your hair.  It's sticking up all over your head."  Before he realized what she was doing, she leaned up on her knees and began smoothing it back down into place.  Her actions brought her within close proximity, and their gazes locked.  Immediately her eyes widened and she skittered away, back to her corner of the sofa. 

"Tina…."

"I'm sorry," she interrupted quickly.  "I shouldn't have done that."

"No harm done."  Dave shrugged, willing to let the tense moment go if she were. He changed the subject.  "So you've got to go up to school tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she nodded in agreement.  "I've got a meeting with my advisor and the Dean.  Dave, can I tell you something?  In confidence, I mean?"

He lifted his shoulders in a dismissive gesture.  "Sure."

Her eyes took on an excited gleam.  "I'm done."

"What?"

"With school.  I'm done.  All but my senior honor's thesis.  That's what my meeting is about tomorrow.  I've got to go up there and declare my thesis topic and discuss my internship so I can write my paper.  If things go well, by the end of December I'll be a college graduate."

Dave just blinked at her.  "I thought you had a whole year left."

"Nope," she warbled happily.  "I went to summer school just about the whole time and managed to finish up early."

His face split into a wide smile.  "That's great!  I bet Hunter and Nan are thrilled."

Her smile faltered a bit.  "They, uhm…they don't know yet." 

"Why not?"

"See," she turned sideways to face him.  "My senior thesis is on the psychological ramifications of an outsider being accepted into a closed societal structure.  And to write it, I had to get an internship with a company that will let me observe and work within such a structure."

Dave nodded.  "Okay.  So who's your test subject?"

Tina's smile brightened at his understanding of what she was saying.  "Me."

"You?"  He repeated.  "Doesn't that skew your data?  Make it invalid?"

"Not in this case."

"Where?"

She puffed out a breath.  "And here's why Nettie and Uncle Hunter don't know yet.  It's Nettie's fault really.  She's the one who gave me the idea at the poker game in San Antonio…"

"No, no, no, no."  Dave shook his head violently.  "Tell me you're not talking about…."

"Yep.  I'll be interning with the WWE, traveling with you guys, studying, working, the whole nine yards.  In fact, I've already got an appointment to meet with Ms. McMahon to finalize everything."

Dave's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.  "Did you say Ms. McMahon?  You did not just say that, did you?"

"Sorry to disappoint.  My appointment is with Ms. Stephanie McMahon on Thursday at three-thirty."

Dave dropped his head into his hands with a groan.  "Dear God."

"Why?  What's the problem?"

He looked up at her, not believing she didn't know.  "Tina, Stephanie McMahon is Hunter's ex-wife."

Tina's jaw dropped.  "Oh, dear."

"Hell yeah, oh dear!"  He mimicked.  "Maybe it's not that bad.  Maybe she won't know your name or something.  At least not in being connected with Hunter or Nan.  Jesus, please not with Nan.  I mean, Elliott's kind of a common name, right?  Would Stephanie know you?"

"I…I don't know.  I didn't talk to her, just her secretary."

He breathed a little easier.  "You might just get away with this."  At the look on her face, he frowned.  "What?  What else?"

"It's an internship.  Meaning I had to give…my current address."

Dave groaned again, leaning back against the couch cushions.  "Well, shit!  There's no way in hell she'd not recognize her old address!"

Her face fell and panic set in.  "What am I supposed do?  It's too late to undo this!  The internship's already been approved! The university's already arranged it all.  Weeks ago, in fact!  I'm just going up there to solidify everything.  My meeting with my advisor and the Dean is just a formality!  Dave, I've got to do this or I don't graduate!"

"Don't panic…not yet anyway.  We'll figure something out."  He ran his hands down his face trying to think his way through this mess.  And suddenly it hit him.  "Shane."

"What?  What can he do to help this?"

He shook her head at her.  "Not Shane Helms.  Shane McMahon.  Stephanie's older brother.  He's over her in power, I think.  And he still likes Hunter and Nan both, unlike the rest of the clan if I remember correctly.  Not sure about Linda, though."  He waived at hand at her wide-eyed expression.  "Never mind.  Maybe Shane can help.  Sit in on the meeting and ride rein on Steph or something."

"You think so," she asked, hope shining, though dim, in her eyes.

He couldn't help but smile at her, and reached out to cup the back of her head in his hand.  "Maybe.  I'll help figure this out with you.  I promise."

An awkward silence fell, as they again became aware of each other.  Reluctantly, Dave slid his hand away, allowing her hair to slip through his fingers, before placing it back on his leg.  He turned his eyes to the television.  The tape she'd been watching was still playing, though muted, on the VCR. 

Curiosity got the better of him.  "What's this?"

Tina sighed softly, more than willing to go with the change in topic.  She picked up the remote and turned the mute off.  "Home movies.  Since I couldn't be there, I just thought…" she shrugged her shoulders.

He nodded understanding what she wasn't saying.  "That you?"  He pointed to a curly haired blonde toddler waddling away from a teenage Nan as she chased after her.  Quickly Nan caught up to the child and scooped her up, lifting her shirt and blowing a raspberry on her tummy, much to the toddler's squeals of delight.

"Yeah."

They watched in silence for a few minutes before the tape blipped and another image came into focus.  This was a much older Tina, probably around fourteen or fifteen.  She was on stage dancing at some sort of recital.  Dave watched quietly, seeing a lot of the woman she was now in the girl on the stage.  She was doing some sort of jazz routine to REM's "Draggin' The Line."

"I didn't know you danced."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she answered back.

He flashed a grin at her.  "Yeah, probably."  He turned his attention back to the screen, watching her finish the dance.  "You're really good.  Very good, in fact."

"Thanks.  It was my first love, until I discovered psychology.  Dad was kind of pissed off at me for not pursing dance, though."

Dave nodded, still watching.  "Yeah, dads can be like that.  Mine wanted me to be an accountant…if you can believe it."

She laughed.  "No, can't quite picture you in that setting."

The scene on the TV shifted.  "Who's that?"  Dave asked pointing to the tall, longhaired man standing beside Nan and Tina on the tape.

"Bobby," Tina replied softly.  "Nettie's fiancé…well, ex-fiancé, I guess."

"Didn't work out, huh?"  Dave asked in a conversational manner.

"You could say that.  He died."

Dave dropped his head.  It seemed like he was forever putting his foot in his mouth around her.  He glanced over.  "I'm sorry."

"S'okay.  You didn't know…and it was a long time ago."

"But you still miss him."  At the hesitation, he went on.  "I can hear it in your voice."

"Yeah, I do."  She nodded.  "Bobby was special.  But honestly, she's happier with Uncle Hunter."

Dave chuckled.  "You don't have to tell me that.  It's only a little obvious."

"Ya think?"  Tina smiled.

His attention went back to the tape as another man came into focus.  He wore the dress blues of the Airforce.  He walked up to Nan and hugged her, then did the same to Tina, before another girl dragged her off camera.  The unknown man beamed down at Nan, and his voice came through clear on the tape.  It was a surprisingly deep sound for a man of his lanky frame. 

"You're busting over this, aren't you, Honeybee?"

The image of Nan on the screen nodded, smiling so wide that her eyes crinkled at the corners.  "Oh yeah.  She's so damn talented that I can barely believe it."

The man chuckled and threw an arm around her shoulders.  "You should be very proud of her."

"I am.  Believe me, probably more than you know."

"I kind of doubt that.  I know what it's like to be proud of your kids."

At that moment, Tina came back on the screen dragging one of her friends up to be introduced.  But Dave didn't pay any attention, turning instead to see Tina sitting silently with tears streaming down her face.

"Your great-uncle Wesley, right?"

Tina nodded, and covered her face with her hands. 

Dave reached over, picked up the remote, and hit stop.  Without a word, he slid over and wrapped an arm around her, tugging on her until she turned in his embrace, and laid her head on his chest.  He just held her as she cried against him. 

And somehow, all of those wonderful reasons he'd given himself at Summer Slam for staying away from her just melted under her tears.  He didn't know how long they sat like that; didn't really care either.  All he knew was that it was nice just to hold her close and not feel like he would be facing a firing squad afterwards. 

Finally, she broke the silence.  "Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you…would you stay, tonight?  In the guest room, I mean?"

"Sure.  And I'll even take you to your meeting tomorrow at school if you need some moral support."

"I'd appreciate that," she murmured against his shirt. 

"What about the other one?"  He queried.

She tilted her head back and looked up at him.  "Would you mind?"

He'd bet money that she had no idea how tempting she was to him at that moment.  All wide eyes, glassy with tears, and needing him so badly.  He smiled at her.  "I was gonna suggest it anyway.  No way in hell I'd let you into McMahon territory without me."

Nodding, she shifted, settling against him a little more comfortably, but still leaning on him.  "Thanks."

Hell, he was already in the pool…may as well head for the deep end.  He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head.  "Wanna watch some more?"  Feeling her nod against him, he picked up the remote and started the tape back up.

With an easy quietness between them, they watched the home movies, well into the night, listening to the sounds of the rain pouring down, and the quiet snores of the little dog curled up in Hunter's chair. 

~<>~

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…
       Psalm 23:2a

August 26, 2004 - Thursday 1:07 p.m.
Colonial Inn, Room 217 - Moccasin Gap, North Carolina 

With concerned eyes, Hunter watched as Nan moved jerkily on her crutches around the hotel room, digging through bags, muttering to herself, growing more and more agitated as she continued her haphazard search.  She was treading a very thin line between grief and hysteria, and sometimes he could even see that line start to blur.  He wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around her, soothe all of the pain he could see in her face, and just hold her while she cried those tears he knew were hovering just below the surface.  She'd not shed even one.  But he knew if he offered the comfort he wanted to, that she'd just fall apart.  And she couldn't afford such a luxury.  Not now.  There was too much left to see done.  The service.  The graveside.  And the dinner with the family afterwards.

He sighed.  At least the visitation of friends was over. Oh, that had been fun. 

Not. 

They'd sequestered the family in a small room, just off the area where the casket lay open for the visitors to view the deceased.  Pews and chairs were open to those who wanted to sit, pray, reflect, meditate, or whatever.  Typically, the well-wishers would enter through one end of the small room, offer their condolences to each and every family member seated in a long line around the walls, shake hands or hug, then exit the other end to go into the viewing area.  There, they would look at the deceased, usually make the inane comment of how they looked so natural or like they were sleeping, and then move on out of the room, or sit and stay, depending upon their predilection. 

Personally, Hunter found it to be a tortuous, barbaric process.  Having all of these hurting people whose loved-one had just died to sit in dress clothes in a hot, poorly-ventilated room, expecting them to smile and say polite 'thank-yous' to people they'd either not seen in decades or didn't know at all.  Adding to that torture, the air was thick with the cloying stench of scorching candle wax and mediciney smelling flowers from a florist's freezer.  Not even to mention the hundreds of different perfumes and colognes that people doused themselves in, just before wanting to hug one of the surviving family members.  That alone was enough to make him choke.

And people actually called him cruel.

It had been just a nightmare for him, even taking a hurtful turn he'd not expected.  He was prevented from being with her.  He wasn't married to Nan.  So, in spite of what Pitt had said, he wasn't family.  Had he been married to her, he'd be extended the same courtesies, perhaps begrudgingly, but he'd still have received them.  Granted, the funeral director hadn't said that specifically.  Nor had he said it in front of any family members.  Oh, no.  He wouldn't dare; it would be horribly rude and completely inhospitable, the epitome of bad form.  And everyone knew the Southern people were world renown for their hospitality.  But that hospitality had a darker edge to it sometimes, when it came to protecting one of their own, justified or not.  And he wasn't one of their own.  That had been made very clear. 

Since Hunter was a "celebrity," the director suggested he might be a distraction to the real purpose of the evening.  And it might be best if he kept a lower profile, low enough to keep him from drawing attention away from the grieving family.  One so low that it took him away from Nan and her family and into the shadows, watching from a distance. Not sitting with the family, unable to lend his support for her when she most needed it, hovering in an alcove in the funeral home.  That also had been the funeral director's idea.  And he couldn't believe he'd agreed to it for as short a time as he had.

It hadn't lasted long, though.  After about fifteen minutes, he saw Nan's head pop up and look around, evidently for him.  Not seeing him immediately, he could see the panic begin to set in, her already drawn face losing a little more of its color.  He left the alcove headed straight for her, propriety and subtlety be damned.  There was no way he was going to let her face all of those well-meant, but superficial platitudes, sharp as a razor's edge, on her own.  And if the pencil-necked, Jo-Jo the Rat-faced Boy, look-alike of a funeral director didn't like it?  Well, then that was just too damn bad.

Just before he got to her, Jo-Jo the Rat-faced Boy popped up in front of him, shaking his head, and murmuring something about decorum and family over fame.  But Hunter didn't have to pop the little man's head like a tick, even though his fingers were itching to do just that.  Surprisingly enough, it was Robbie and Brun, Nan's brothers, who interceded on his behalf.  And then Rámon Vega, her brother-in-law.  As well as Lyle, Mac, and Pitt Harrell, her cousins.  Faced with all of these tall, muscular, angry looking men towering over him, Jo-Jo the Rat-faced Boy backed down with a sickly, simpering smile, allowing Hunter to pass through the archway into the visitation room. 

Sliding into the vacant seat beside her, he'd slipped an arm around her waist, and immediately she relaxed into his strength, almost absorbing it.  Yet, she still clamped her own hand around him with a grip so hard that he was positive he had finger shaped bruises on his side.  And thankfully, thankfully, the people coming to offer their sympathy, if they recognized him at all, didn't mention it.

"I can't find it!"  Nan's voice pulled his attention back to her.

"Find what, baby," he spoke softly.

"My cross.  The silver one Uncle Wesley gave to me the last time we saw him.  I know I packed it.  I wanted to wear it today.  And I can't find it!"  Nan punctuated her frustration with slinging her jeans-jacket across the hotel room and almost teetering off her crutches in the process.

Without saying anything, Hunter eased from the edge of the bed where he'd been perched, and walked slowly past her to her make-up bag, where it sat beside his shaving kit on the counter by the sink.  He flipped open the top, and unzipped the pouch inside, retrieving the silver cross on the long silver link chain that she'd been looking for.  She had her back to him, furiously digging through her suitcase again. 

"Baby,"  he called quietly.

She turned quickly, her face lighting up, then clouding back over when she saw the necklace in question dangling from his fingers.  It wasn't overly ornate, with only minor scrollwork in the four points of the cross.  And the chain wasn't fancy, just large silver links looking like real chains.  The chain was long enough that it would lay flat against her skin, neatly below the silver 'H' that she never took off.  Her uncle had made sure of that, not wanting her to have to choose between the two.  Yes, it was a fairly ordinary silver cross.  But it was a gift from her uncle.  And that's what made it priceless.

Blinking her eyes abruptly, she nodded and turned her back to him, pulling her hair aside.  With a gentle touch, he slid the chain around her neck, and fastened it for her.  He dropped a soft kiss on her nape, just before she dropped that curtain of hair. 

She turned around, and looked up at him, her dark eyes wide, and sorrowful.  "Thank you."

He nodded, crooked his index finger under her chin, rubbing it back and forth for a moment before pressing his lips softly against hers.  When he pulled back, she was blinking again, and proceeded to busy her fingers with adjusting his dark tie, and smoothing down the lines of his black suit-coat.  He spied the quick curve of her lips as she partially grinned when running her fingers across the pale pink dress shirt he wore beneath the coat.  She'd always liked that shirt on him, regardless of its stereotypical-less-than-masculine color, making him glad he chose it, rather than another, as he'd almost done.  Capturing her nervous hands in his own, he threaded his fingers through hers.

"We've got to be at the church by one-thirty.  You ready to go?"

"No," she shook her head, then sighed sadly, making Hunter's heart twist to hear the pain in the soft sound.  "But I suppose we should go anyway."

He nodded and helped her into her the black bolero jacket that went over the black sundress she was wearing.  As she turned to leave, she suddenly stopped, and looked back at him. 

"Hunter," she began, then fell silent.

He didn't know how he knew what she was going to say, only that he did.  "I'm not going to let them separate us again.  I'll be right beside you the rest of the way.  I promise."

With a grateful but weak smile, she nodded, and together they left the hotel room, bound for the limousine that would take them to the church for her uncle's funeral service. 

~<>~

He leadeth me beside still waters…
Psalm 23:2b

August 26, 2004 - Thursday 1:57 p.m.
Brookshire Baptist Church - Moccasin Gap, North Carolina 

The mood in the room where the family waited until they would file into the sanctuary was surprisingly light, as far as Hunter saw it.  Not at all what he'd expected.  But then again, his familiarity with funerals was rather limited.  The room was bursting at the seams with people.  He did a quick tally, mainly out of idle curiosity.  That and to keep his mind off of the fact that the small church's air-conditioning system couldn't quite keep up with the volume of people in the Sunday School classroom.  Nan sat quietly on the hard metal folding chair beside him, of course.  Then there was the rest of her immediate family, parents, both brothers and their wives.  Minus the children.  Brun and Cindy, as well as Angela and Ramón, had left the kids in the care of Geoff, Brun and Cindy's oldest boy.  And of course, Tina was back in Connecticut.  So that was ten, including himself.  Then there were Nan's three cousins, their wives, along with Molly and Leslie, bringing the number up to eighteen.  He added in Prudence, Aunt Miriam's sister.  Nineteen.  And so far, thirteen of the seventeen foster brothers had shown up and over half of them brought their wives.  He did another quick calculation.  Grand total…twenty eight to thirty people, give or take.  No wonder he was hot, he thought, tugging at his collar.

And right in the middle of them all was Nan's Aunt Miriam.  She was a tiny little thing.  And he meant tiny.  She stood barely at five feet, and he'd bet his next title shot she didn't weigh an ounce over a hundred and fifteen pounds.  He always felt like he was going to crush her when he hugged her.  But she had laid those fears to rest the first time they'd met.  For such a little thing, she was surprisingly strong.  And in defiance of her soft-spoken manner and slight stature, there was absolutely no doubt as to who cracked the whip around her boys, though.  Hunter still was amazed at how well she was holding up.  Smiling, telling stories of Colonel Harrell and his boys.  And even entertaining her two granddaughters.  He muffled a chuckle, sliding an arm around Nan's shoulders. Aunt Miriam was the living embodiment of the thought that a funeral should be a celebration of the loved-one's life, rather than their death.  Simply amazing.  Her sincerely cheerful attitude was a refreshing solace in an otherwise rotten day.

They'd gotten to the church a little early, and Nan's mother had wanted to go in and view her brother before they closed the casket for the ceremony.  He, Pitt, Lyle, Nan, and Mac had accompanied her.  But Nan had stood rigid up against the wall of the sanctuary, refusing to budge when her mother had walked up to the silver casket, draped in the American flag.  She'd done the same thing at the Visitation of Friends the night before.  He'd leaned down and whispered that he'd go with her if she wanted to go see her uncle one last time. 

She'd only shook her head and whispered, "That's not my uncle in there."

So she'd gotten to say goodbye, and in Hunter's mind, that may not have been the best choice for her to make, afraid she'd regret it later.  But he hadn't pressed.

The arrival of the funeral director seemed to suck all of the previous levity out of the room.  Jo-Jo the Rat-Faced Boy cast a somber look at the room, and then turned to address Aunt Miriam. 

"Mrs. Harrell.  It's time." 

++++ 

The family filed in to the sanctuary from the back, and into the reserved pews.  Chris had known her family was large, but he'd not expected the sheer volume of people who continued to take up the first seven pews.  A small sound to his right caught his attention, and he reached over and took Rosie's hand in his.  He knew what made her make that noise.  Right behind Mr. Elliott, Nan and Hunter had just walked in.  He really wasn't surprised to see Hunter all but hovering behind her, one hand on the small of her back as he guided her into the pew.  That curtain of red hair covered her face from his view, but only partially.  Her eyes were downcast, but her face was pale and drawn tight.  Like she'd crack if someone touched her. 

Once the family was seated, the service began.  It wasn't like most funerals he'd been to.  This one was more like a regular church service.  There was a call and response from the congregation, hymns sung, special music by the choir, and even a sermon.  Only when the sermon began was Chris reminded that this really was a funeral.  The preacher spent his time talking about Colonel Wesley James Harrell.  Wesley to his family, and Jim to his friends and co-workers.  Rosie had cocked her head at that, but Chris got it.  He understood keeping his work life and his home life separate via different names.  After all, wasn't that what most of them did in the WWE?

As the preacher continued expounding upon how much the deceased would be missed, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to the first time he'd met the Colonel. 

++++

December 12, 1999 10:15 p.m.
National Car Rental Center – Ft. Lauderdale, FL 

"Yeah, baby!  Who-ya!"  Chris yelled as he practically flew through the curtain backstage, holding his new Intercontinental Championship high over his head in victory.  Well-wishers swarmed up to him, slapping him on the back, shaking his hand, and generally almost smothering him in congratulations.  But he lifted up on his toes, skimming the crowd for one particular person.

He spotted her – his girlfriend of not quite four months.  She was standing back from the crowd, bouncing on the balls of her feet.  Chris' face split into a wide grin, and he shoved through the glut of people around him towards her.  About the time he broke free, she charged at him, wrapping both arms around his neck.

"You did it!  You did it!"  She laughed loudly as he swung her around in circles.

He set her back down on her feet, and chuckled, staring down into those dark eyes of hers.  "I told you I would, didn't I?" he panted, still winded from his match.

"You did, indeed," she grinned back at him.

"What can I say?  I'm a lucky guy," he murmured, right before he kissed her, long and slow and deep.  Just the way she liked it.

But the couple broke apart as a new voice called out angrily, "Jericho!"

They both turned to see a furious Chyna stalking toward them, one black biker-gloved hand on the small of her back, the other curled into a fist, thumping it against her thigh.  Once she was close enough she pointed a finger in his face and snarled, "I want my title back!"

Chris smirked at her, while pushing his girlfriend slightly behind him.  "A rematch, huh?  Take it up with McMahon."

Chyna fumed at him.  "I'll do that.  This isn't over, Y2J.  Not by a long shot!"  Her hateful gaze drifted over to the redhead standing behind him, glaring at her.  "Hope you like living like a slave, honey.  'Cuz that's the best you'll ever get from this sack of shit!"

As she turned to stalk off, Chris had to wrap both arms around her to keep her from charging after the Ninth Wonder of the World.  "Fuckin' Sasquatch!  Damnit, Chris, let me go!"

He laughed at her.  "Not in this lifetime, darlin'."

"Starting fights again, Honeybee?" a deep voice laughed from behind them.

At her excited squeal, this time Chris did let her go as she threw herself at an older gentleman dressed in an Airforce uniform.  He watched the two embrace and then grinned as she tugged him over to where Chris stood.

With a blinding smile she introduced the two.  "Chris Jericho, meet my Lt. Colonel Wesley Harrell.  My uncle."

Chris straightened up and stuck his hand out.  "Good to meet you, Sir."

Her uncle laughed.  "You too, son.  But I'm afraid she only got it partly right."  He tapped his insignia.  "Not Lt. Colonel anymore, Honeybee."

"Ohmygosh!"  She blurted out, putting her hands over her mouth, then quickly lowered them.  "You made Colonel?"  She hugged him again, and the two men laughed at her excitement.

"Fan-freakin-tastic!"  She crowed, then executed a snappy salute, which her uncle returned with a grin.  "What a night!  You make full bird Colonel and Chris here wins his first WWF title!"

"Did you now?" 

"Yes, Sir."  Chris smiled with pride, hefting the belt up on his shoulder.  "The Intercontinental Championship."

Colonel Harrell rocked back on his heels, his hands clasped in front of him.  "Well then, I'd say this calls for a celebration. I should take you two kids out to dinner.  How about Buca di Beppo, what say?"

"Oh, Italian."  Nan closed her eyes and groaned in pure bliss.  "Can we Chris?"

"Sure, I don't see why n…"

"If you can make her groan like that, Jericho, you must be doing something right!  Congratulations on the win over Chyna."

Chris grimaced at the off-color comment, and at the owner of the voice, as he approached them.  "Uhm…thanks…I think."

The newcomer slapped Jericho hard on the back and turned a heated look on the woman at his side.  "Hi Nan."

"Hey, Hunter," she answered with a soft smile.

"Hunter Hearst Helmsley…Triple H…The Game…The Cerebral Assassin," Chris chuckled as he tapped his chin with an index finger.  "I don't believe you've met Nan's uncle, have you?  Colonel Harrell?"  He asked the question gleefully, taking perverse pleasure in the slightly green look that washed over Triple H's face.

"Uhm…no.  I don't think so."  He offered his hand.  "Nice to meet you, Sir."

With a frown of censure, and a cool tone to his voice, Colonel Harrell shook his hand.  "Likewise, Mr. Helmsley."

"Good luck tonight, Hunter."  Nan spoke up quickly to cover the uncomfortable tension starting to build."

Hunter smirked at her, winked, then tapped the side of his head.  "Don't need luck.  I've got a plan.  You're staying to watch the match, right?"

"We've…ah…got late dinner plans." 

He made a tsking noise at her.  "Ya should.  I think everyone's gonna be really surprised."

Chris frowned.  Everyone knew Hunter had married Stephanie under false pretenses, just to secure himself a title match.  Even the stipulations to his No Holes Barred match tonight against Vince stated that should Hunter win, he'd get himself that match.  And should Vince win, then his marriage to Stephanie would be annulled. 

He wondered what Hunter had up his sleeve this time.  He turned to Nan.  "I've got to shower and get changed.  Why don't you and Colonel Harrell stay and watch the last match, and I'll join you when I'm done?"

"See?"  Hunter chortled.  "All settled."

Just then Stephanie and Vince McMahon walked past them.  Stephanie hugged her father's arm and leveled a look of loathing on Hunter that would have laid a lesser man flat.  Hunter clutched at his heart melodramatically. 

"Whoo boy!  There goes the Ice Princess herself!  Stick around folks.  This one's gonna be good."  Still grinning, he strutted away towards the Gorilla position, waiting to be introduced.

Nan cast a sheepish glance at both Chris and her uncle.  "Sorry about that Uncle Wesley."

He surprised them both by chuckling.  "No need, Honeybee.  I think under different circumstances, I'd probably like that young man." 

+++++ 

Rosie's nudge brought him out of his past, and back to the present.  The service was over, and the members of the congregation were standing out of respect, as the pallbearers escorted the closed casket down the isle and out of the front of the church.  The family followed behind, some stoic, some openly weeping. 

The procession slowed a bit, and at that moment Nan looked up and caught sight of Chris and Rosie.  She slowed her steps a fraction, reached out and grasping his hand, tugging him out of the pew and in front of her in the line up. 

She murmured one soft word at his muffled protest.  "Family."  Then she nudged him forward.

Hunter did the same to Rosie, and the procession continued to file out of the church towards the almost unending long line of waiting black limousines. 

~<>~

He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
       Psalm 23:3

August 26, 2004 – Thursday 2:47 p.m.
Holy Oaks Cemetery, Moccasin Gap, NC  

I've done this too many times, Nan thought to herself as she stood, at the back of the funeral tent at the graveside, with Hunter's hand resting gently at the small of her back.  From her position, she could barely hear the preacher delivering her uncle's eulogy.  But she couldn't have concentrated if she'd had to.  Her thoughts and emotions were too all over the place to pay any attention.  She hated funerals.  Hated to cry in front of anyone.  Hated to cry period. 

I've done this too many times, she repeated internally.  First had been her Grandpa Elliott, her daddy's dad, when she was nine.  Then came her friend Robin who'd died of leukemia when they were twelve.  Unable to halt her thoughts, the names kept coming faster and faster.  Her Granddaddy at seventeen.  Guy, a high school friend, when she was eighteen.  Her Grandma Elliott when she was twenty-three.  One of her best friends, Ray, had committed suicide in '96.  Then Bobby in April of '99.  Followed by Owen in May.  Jason, a college buddy, in 2001.  Now Uncle Wesley.  And she knew that as she grew older, the number would just grow higher.

I'm beginning to think I know more dead people than live ones, she thought morosely.  And I damn near lost Hunter in 2002 when RVD crushed his throat in that sadistic Elimination Chamber thing.