Title: Everything That Rises Must Converge
Author: Empress
Email: Empress@thewaysideinn.net
Distribution: Empress' Private Library and The Wayside Inn  All others ask first.
Category: Number 19 in the Behind The Scenes Series. Follows number 18 All That You Are.
Characters: You know what? I'm not doing this anymore. I figure since that every single WWE character is fair game, that if I keep listing 'em all, eventually the cast of characters will be longer than the actual chapter. So you're hereby on notice. Any WWE character, or one of my own creation is liable to show up at any time. Be prepared. And if you don't know by now that this is a Hunter/Nan story, then for God's sake! What are you doing reading this one first?! Go back to the beginning and start over!
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None…except language – and that ain't really a surprise anymore, is it?
Summary: I'm not doing these anymore either, unless I'm especially so moved. You wanna know what happens? Read it.
Author's Notes: My sincerest apologies to a wonderful American author, Ms. Flannery O'Connor for the borrowing of her title. My own trifling ramblings here pale in comparison to the sheer brilliance she created in her tale of desegregation in the South of the 1960s. So, I guess in my own way, I'm showing my admiration for what she accomplished by borrowing said title. Although, were Ms. O'Connor still alive, something tells me she'd be less than honored.
Feedback: What? Are you kidding me? I live for it!
Disclaimer: Not mine – Vince's. Some are mine and I'm keeping those. No money made. Vince has lots of money. I have very little. Maybe we should meet up in the middle somewhere. Whatcha think? Nah, me neither. On with the show.

Part One:
The Past Always Comes Back To Haunt You 

 
Just beyond the border of your waking mind
There lies another place
Where darkness and light are one
And as you tread the halls of sanity
You feel so glad to be unable to go beyond
I have a message from another time…
       Prologue – Electric Lights Orchestra

September 21, 2004 – 6:03 a.m. EST
Brun Elliott's Home – Moccasin Gap, North Carolina 

She knew she was dreaming.  She'd had this particular dream one too many times before not to know it.  As in past journeys into the vortex that was REM sleep, she knew her time of cognizance was limited.  Soon, she'd forget she was asleep and that the scenarios playing out in front of her weren't really happening.  She'd no longer be a dispassionate observer, but an active participant in whatever psychological torture her demented subconscious found appropriate for the evening.

But she was still semi-cognizant and she had a small window of opportunity to wake herself up.  In those precious few seconds, she fought for consciousness.  Fought desperately, almost like her sanity depended upon it – and perhaps it did.  So she continued to struggle for waking.  But it wasn't meant to be.

She could feel herself losing, slipping into the staring in the nightmare de jour.  As she slid into the mind of her former self – the woman in the dream – she was aware of two things.  One, that the dream always started out the same way, as well as ended the same manner.  Crying out in her sleep only to wake, finding herself twisted in her sheets, sweating, with her pillow soaked with tears.  And two, just as she lost her grip on reality completely, she noted that even though it started in the familiar beginning, it didn't stay that way. 

This time, it was…changing…
 

Only a few minutes.  Only a few minutes had passed while she'd been gone.  Going to get a Mt. Dew should make her feel guilty.  But it did.  She shouldn't need the escape.  Caffeine was just an excuse.  She should still be in there – in ICU – watching the man she loved die. Propriety and tradition said her place was at his bedside, and she respected him too much to let him down.  Not now.

God, she hated this.  She had loved him desperately once.  And watching him die, little by little, was shredding her into itty-bitty pieces, leaving her confused about how she really felt about him.  She'd watched him die for almost two years now.  But so much of what made him who he was, was gone, leaving an empty shell behind.  Only rarely did he surface from the drugs being pumped into his bloodstream, drugs that kept him from screaming or whimpering in agony, to show her that somewhere deep inside, the man she adored still existed.  And that was the cruelest twist to all of this.  Letting her see him for brief seconds, only to have his eyes glass over again, leaving a mindless zombie in his place.

That shell…that zombie…was the man she used to love.  Sort of still loved.  On some level.  The body lying in that hospital bed wasn't her fiancé.  He wasn't the man she loved, not really.  He was more like a shadow of who he used to be.  They were supposed to have gotten married, have a beautiful life together, and grow old and crotchety together.  But that wasn't going to happen now.  He wasn't going to come out of this one.  She knew it. He knew it, as much as he knew anything.

And now, it was only a matter of time.

"Hey, hon. How are you holding up," a quiet voice called to her.

Looking up, she gave her friend a watery smile, feeling her eyes flood with tears.  She held out her arms to her, happily embracing the other woman.  "I'm so glad to see you.  You have no idea."

The taller woman hugged her shorter friend close to her.  "How is he?"

She pulled back to look up at her, wiping at her eyes.  "Not good.  Dr. Romero say's it'll be any time now."

Her friend reached out and smoothed her hair out of her face.  "You know I'm here for you."

"Thanks.  You've never let me down when I needed you."

She laughed a light and pleasant sound, smiling down at her friend.  "You've never needed me for much.  Seems like I'm always the one you're bailing out of trouble.  I'm the one that most of the people we know want to rush out and befriend."

The shorter woman wiped at her eyes again.  "That's because you don't let people get close to you.  I never did figure out why you let me in."

Her friend shrugged, still smiling.  "Have you eaten today?"  At the negative headshake she received, she added, "Come on.  Let's go down to the cafeteria and grab a sandwich or something."

She got a nod this time.  "Just let me check on him before we go."

"Want me to come with you?"

"No," she shook her head.  "Last time he was conscious, he requested no visitors but me.  And his aunt, of course.  Just wait here.  I'll be right back."

She turned and pushed open the door, slipping silently into the dimly lit room.  She eased up to his bedside, ignoring the blips and beeps of all of the equipment monitoring his status.  Leaning over the railing, she trailed her fingers over the back of his hand, then curled her fingers around it. 

To her surprise, he opened his eyes.  Those eyes that always could convey so much without him saying a word went straight to her.  And they were clear. 

"Hey."  His whisper was so low that she had to wonder if he'd really spoken at all.  Until he did it again.  "What…day…is it?"

She sat down and ran her fingers through the long locks lying limply on his pillow.  "It's Monday.  The thirtieth.  Around eleven-thirty.  Letterman's on.  Want me to put it on for you?"

"No," he breathed heavily.  "I just…want…to look…at you."

"I'm right here, sweetheart.  I'm not going anywhere," she promised him.

His lips, once full, now thinned with his illness, curled up into a familiar loving grin.  "I…love you.  And promise…promise me…"

"Promise you what, sweetheart?"  She ignored the tears now trailing one after the other down her cheeks.

"P-p-promise…you'll not…stay…alone.  I know…you have…feelings…for him…"

"I love you," she interrupted.

He moved his head a fraction in an aborted nod.  "I know…you do…babe.  But…I've got…to go…soon…"

"No," she denied immediately.  "You're going to be just fine."

He smiled at her again and tightened his fingers a fraction around the hand still covering his.  He turned his head slowly into the light caresses of her wandering free hand as she played with his hair.  "Still…my biggest…fan…thinking I…can do…anything…"

Her own heart tripped over a beat, stumbling for rhythm, leaving her breathless for the split second that he exhaled and his chest didn't immediately fill again.  But then he took a deep breath, and his voice came out even more halting and raspy than before.

"…babe…promise…i don't…want to…worry…about…you…promise me…go to him…shawn…shawn…promise…"

"Okay, I promise," she placed a hand on his chest and he relaxed instantly, his gaunt face smoothing over into a sweet smile.

"…love…you…" He gave a last shuddering breath and was quiet.  The muscles under her palm didn't rise again.

"Sweetheart?"  She asked in quiet horror, not really believing he'd ever actually leave her.  "No, no, no, no.  You're gonna be fine," she sniffed back the flood of tears that doubled almost immediately with his last words.  "You're gonna be fine.  Come on, sweetheart.  Open your eyes.  Please?  Don't…no.  Come back to me.  Please?  It's not supposed to end this way!"

But the long, monotonous single tone from his heart monitor claimed otherwise.  She dropped her head to the mattress, cupping his limp hand to her face as she continued to talk to him, her shoulders shaking with her tears.

"Hon?"  Her friend's voice called quietly as she eased into the room.  She placed her hands on the grieving woman's shoulders.  "Come on, now.  Let's get you out of here so they can do their jobs."

She looked up to see the nurses standing just inside the hospital room.  But she couldn't seem to move, unable to bear the thought of letting him go.

"Come on," her friend urged her.  "It's over, honey.  Let him go."

Barely able to stand on her own, she nodded and let her friend begin to lead her from the room.  She stopped at the door and looked back at her fiancé laying so still in the bed.  Her friend had to strain to hear her whispered words.  "No.  It's not over.  It'll never be over." 

She shifted in her sleep, rolling away from the tear soaked pillow and gave a distressed little whimper as the dream then changed again… 

Instead of walking out of the ICU and into the hospital corridor with her friend, she suddenly found herself standing outside of an arena.  In the dark.  And she was alone.

Looking around wildly for some familiar point of reference, she took short desperate breaths, her lungs protesting at the oppressively humid, hot air.  Almost immediately, her blouse was stuck to her body with perspiration, and she could feel beads of sweat begin to trickle down between her breasts.  She knew this place.  And part of her knew what was about to happen.  Panic started to rise up the back of her neck as she could see nothing around her with the exception of the building itself, a black car parked some feet away, and a fork lift a bit further from the car.

Without warning, the door behind her burst open and a huge figure of a man, clad only in dark wrestling trunks, ran hell bent for leather past where she stood.  He never saw her, didn't even glance her way.  He raced towards the car, wrenched the door open, and scrambled behind the wheel.  He'd barely closed the door and cranked the engine, before a set of lights pinned him in place.

The sound of a diesel engine starting up caused her to nearly jump out of her skin.  Horrified she, and the man behind the wheel, watched as the forklift moved forward to spear the car.  Then it proceeded to lift the vehicle high into the night air.

"Oh God," she whispered.  "No!  Steve, no!"

Neither the man behind the wheel of the car, nor the man at the controls of the forklift heard her.  But the driver of the car began to echo her pleas, his voice raw with anger and fright.  "Austin!  No!  Don't do this!  Austin, you sonofabitch!"

But the man at the helm of the forklift paid no heed to either of them.  Instead, he laughed.  The sound chilled her blood as he released the lever, allowing the car, after turning over, to plummet over thirty feet to the pavement below.  The automobile landed in a horrific explosion of metal and glass, upside down, crunching the top almost flat against the body of the car.  Positioning alone defied the possibility of anyone surviving that.

With a speed she didn't know she possessed, she raced over to the mangled wreckage.  Mindless of the glass slicing into her skin, she slid across the pavement on her belly trying to get to the man still trapped behind the wheel.  But she couldn't reach him.  The top was completely smashed into the car frame, with barely a crack between the shattered remnants of the windshield and the hood.  Laying her cheek on the ground, she peered inside, and bit back a cry as she saw him.

His face – or what was left of it – was turned towards her, his eyes wide open, and staring straight at her.  But they didn't see her – would never see her or anything else ever again.  Yet, he had one hand stretched out as if in entreaty.  She knew death when she saw it.  And it was staring her right in the face.

He was gone.

A loud, high-pitched ringing filled her ears and the smell of death hung heavy on the air, filling her lungs and mouth as she fought for breath.  He was dead.  She loved him.  And she'd never gotten to tell him.  She could feel what was left of her heart shrivel within her chest as she stared into his lifeless eyes.  Eyes permanently fixed on her.

"You killed him."

Startled, she scrambled backward, stifling a scream, as she looked up into the cold, dead eyes of her fiancé.  He was still dressed in the blue suit she'd buried him in, his long hair blowing gently in the hot breeze.  He stared down at her, his handsome face a cold, expressionless mask.

Her eyes wide, tears pouring down her cheeks, she pulled her hands away from her face.  "Wh-what?"

"You killed him," he repeated, taking a shuffling step forward. 

Her face paled as she watched the skin on his face slacken, then begin to melt down his cheekbones like the wax from a dripping candle, leaving foul brownish black splotches where what had been skin dripped onto his suit jacket.  The suit ruffled in the breeze and changed from well fitting, to tattered rags as he took another step towards her. His eyes rolled wildly, sliding backwards, then puddled up and again melted like his skin had, dripping down the gore that was his face, until she was staring at empty sockets.

Now crab-walking backwards away from the apparition before her, she could feel blood trickle from her mouth from where she'd bitten back screams as he'd begun to change.  "N-no...I...I didn't...he...didn't know..."

The remaining skin on his face slid downward, splashing onto the rags fluttering in the breeze.  Foul smoke and a hissing noise came up with each blop of liquefied skin that hit him or the ground, leaving her staring into a skull mottled gray and green with rot and decay.  And still he moved forward, stopping only as she found herself back up against the forklift.  No where else left to run.  She curled in on herself, unable to tear her gaze away from him.  He lifted now skeletal hands, strings and chunks of rotting flesh hanging from the bones as he reached for her. 

"You killed him," he repeated again, his voice now gurgling with a fluid thickness her mind refused to identify.  His talon-like fingers clawed into her scalp.  "Just like you killed me."

Her scream echoed on the night air, "No!!!!" 

The sound of her own voice woke her, sending her flying off the bed and scrambling out of the room, down the hall to the bathroom.  She barely made it to the toilet before she began to retch.  Once the spasms subsided, she collapsed on the tiled floor.  Drawing her knees up to her chest, she rocked back and forth, sobbing in the darkness, unaware that she was murmuring quietly the whole time.

"… it'll never be over …it'll never be over… it'll never be over… " 

~<>~

Sister Christian, oh the time has come.
And you know that you're the only one,
To say okay.
Where you going – what you looking for?
You know those boys don't want to play no more with you.
It's true.
You're motoring.
What's your price for flight?
In finding mister right?
You'll be alright tonight.
       Sister Christian – Night Ranger 

 
September 21, 2004 – 8:13 a.m. MST
American Airlines Flight 2385  – Tucson, Arizona 

Still over half asleep, he leaned back into his seat with a sigh, and closed his eyes, tuning out the bustling noises of his fellow Superstars as they boarded the plane.  The only consolation to this ridiculously early flight was that while everyone else was making a connection in San Antonio, he could just go home to his wife and his one-point-five children.  A grin played at the corners of his mouth.  Becky would have swatted him if he'd actually said that and she had heard him.  God, but he missed her and Cam.  Focusing on the smiling faces of his family behind his eyes, he settled further into his seat, trying to get comfortable.  He was a hair's breadth from being completely in dreamland when a familiar voice caused him to crack an eye open, looking up at the speaker.

"Who's the freakin' dolt who booked a flight at this insane hour, anyway?  Bastard oughtta be gutted and strung up with the ring ropes."  Lillian groused, with a sour twist to her normally bright smile.  "Scootch it over, HBK.  You're in my seat."

Grumbling as he moved over to take the window seat, Shawn responded in a near growl.  "I always knew that perkiness of yours was an act.  Thanks for confirming it for me, Lil."

"Oh, blow me," she snarled, causing his eyebrows to arch dramatically.  "You've known me long enough to know that I'm not a morning person."

"Ain't that the truth," he retorted, pushing his seat back a little to buckle his seat belt.

"You're no ray of sunshine yourself there, wisenheimer," she muttered peevishly, kicking her carry-on under the seat in front of her a little harder than was necessary.  She plopped down with a huff and began to fumble with her own belt.  It slipped out of her fingers twice before she gave up and left it lying unbuckled on her lap.  Her upper lip curled back into snarl.  "Just once I wish some damn airplane person would make a seat belt that actually fuckin' worked!  This isn't supposed to be fuckin' rocket science!  Since when do I have to have a damn Ph.D. to buckle my goddamn seat belt?!" 

With gentle hands and easy movements, Shawn brushed her fingers aside and deftly clicked her seatbelt into place, tightening it just a bit. 

She threw a guarded glance at him.  "Thanks."

He just nodded, squinting at the look he saw on her face.  "Okay, Lil.  Even Hunt isn't this nasty without reason.  What's bothering you?"

Her head bobbed in a sarcastic nod.  "Oh great.  Compare me to him.  What a way to make a girl feel better.  Way to go, Heartbreak.  And stop calling me Lil!  You know I hate that!"  When he didn't respond, she turned to see him just staring at her, expectantly awaiting a real answer, his eyes concerned.  "Why does anything have to be bothering me?  Can't I just be an asshole once and a while?  You guys are certainly allowed!"

Although she glared at him with angry eyes, Shawn could see the hurt lurking under the anger.  He shook his head.  "No.  Anyone else, maybe.  But not you."

"Why not me, huh," she countered.  "I mean, haven't you heard what a mind-game playing, manipulative, scheming, lying, psychotic bitch I am?  Everyone else certainly has!"

Shawn's brows knitted together in a frown.  "Who was the idiot who told you that?"

Lillian cut her hazel eyes at him.  "Who do you think."

He wracked his brain trying to remember who he'd last seen her keeping company with before he went out from Kane's attack with the chair.  Then he remembered.  "Venis actually said those things to you?"

"Not in those exact words, no."  She sighed, looking down at her hands, her anger finally beginning to subside, allowing the hurt to bubble to the surface.  "But his meaning was pretty clear."

Shawn didn't speak, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  When she didn't continue, he prompted, "And?"

She didn't answer at first.  With a heartfelt deep sigh, she whispered, "And…I caught him diddling one of those new T and A bimbettes."

"Which one?"

"Does it matter?"

"No."  He shook his head.  "Not really."  When she raised a hand to scrub at her cheeks, Shawn pulled a handkerchief from his jacket and passed it to her.

Taking it with a watery smile, Lillian blotted her eyes and said with a sniff, "Why do guys always do this to me, Shawn?  What's wrong with me?"

Shawn shifted in his seat and put an arm around her shoulders.  "Not a thing, Lil.  And any guy who can't see that is a fool.  Deserving of your pity.  Not your tears."  He hugged her a little tighter.  "And you really shouldn't put too much stock in a man whose ring entrance is based on him being an ex-porn star."

Lillian gave a half-chuckle, half-sob.  "Still hurts though."

"I know, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry too."  He paused, then added, "One of these days you're going to find some very lucky putz who'll truly appreciate the beautiful woman you are.  Inside and out.  I promise."

She laid her head against his shoulder.  "Damn you for being married, Shawn Michaels."

He didn't respond, knowing from experience with upset women, that sometimes just being there and being quiet was all they really wanted.  He smiled to himself, remembering having almost this exact conversation with another bitter, broken-hearted female many years ago.  But that one had ended much differently that this one would.  He was sure of it. 

++++

We all had our reasons to be there
We all had a thing or two to learn
We all needed something to cling to
So we did
We all had delusions in our head
We all had our minds made up for us
We had to believe in something
So we did
       Forgiven – Alanis Morissette

May 12, 1989 – 8:45 p.m. EST
Chesterbrook Academy  – Charlotte, North Carolina 

Smirking at his reflection in the rear-view mirror, Shawn pulled the rental car into the packed parking lot of Chesterbrook Academy.  Finding an empty space behind a white stretch limo, he parked the vehicle.  He reached over and scooped up the clear box on the seat beside him, and with a final fluffing of his long, ash-blonde locks, Shawn stepped out of the car.

He couldn't help but grin, as he walked across the parking lot.  Boy, was she going to be surprised to see him.  He'd gotten to Charlotte a day early just to see her – to hang out for a while before the show tomorrow night, maybe have a chance to really talk for a while.  And he'd gotten no end of ribbing about it from Janettey either.  Of course, Marty didn't know her as well as he did.  He didn't understand the connection between the two of them.  So Shawn had just turned a deaf ear to his buddy's teasing. 

He'd called her house the minute he'd put his bags down in his hotel room.  But she wasn't there.  He'd forgotten that tonight was her Senior Prom.  He felt so stupid when he realized he'd forgotten that, considering her letters lately had talked of practically nothing but this event for weeks.  Enchantment Under The Sea – how cheesy could you get, right?  He'd been told that even though she didn't have a date, she was going anyway.  That's when he'd decided to surprise her by escorting her.  He'd found a formalwear shop that was still open, gotten himself a tux, including a bow tie and cummerbund in metallic emerald green to match her dress – that important little tidbit provided to him by her mother – and had even picked up a corsage of white rosebuds for her.  Granted, they weren't her favorites, but at least they wouldn't clash with her dress.

He'd been relieved her mom had answered the phone.  He and her dad didn't really get along very well.  Shawn rolled his eyes.  That was an understatement…and a big one.  Her dad hated him.  Well, maybe not hate, exactly, but sometimes he sure acted like it.  Shawn couldn't blame the man, really.  He understood it too well to blame him. 

He'd known her for a little less than three years, having met her when she was only fourteen.  Of course, he'd not known she was that young when they met.  She certainly didn't look it.  He'd assumed she was closer to his own age at that time – eighteen.  He'd found out later how young she really was…way later.  Too much later. 

He frowned, not having a ready explanation of why he'd gone to all this trouble to surprise her.  Maybe it was because he'd like to put a smile back on his baby doll's face.  In those few years he'd known her, she'd not had a lot to smile about.  Most recently, having her grandfather die just last year.  But the bubbly vivacious teenager he'd first met, the one with the wicked sense of humor and lethal flirting skills, had changed an awful lot since…Shawn ducked his head and sighed.  Since she'd had the baby, and had put it up for adoption.

He'd tried to convince her not to, unable to stand the thought of her giving it up.  He started formulating preposterous ideas.  He'd told her that he would quit college – which he'd done anyway, he realized.  He'd promised to help her take care of the baby as much as he possibly could.  Hell, he'd even offered to marry her, if only she wouldn't give it up.  But she'd turned away all of his offers, even laughing at that last one.  After months of him trying to get her to change her mind, she was still going through with the adoption.

She'd finally told him that she had no choice.  Under North Carolina law, since she was a minor, her parents were automatically the legal guardians of the baby and they had final say on what happened to it.  And her parents were adamant that she give it up.  Shawn had nearly flipped out, demanding to know what the North Carolina government dictated regarding paternal rights.  Two ugly words summed that inquest up quite nicely.  Statutory rape.  She was a minor and that definitely equaled statutory rape.  Paternal rights were null and void if those charges were levied, because in North Carolina, statutory rape held a twenty-five year jail sentence.

So in the end, she'd given it up anyway.  And the birth had been so hard on her, due to the baby's large size.  It had done so much damage; she'd almost died.  The baby too.  Yet, they'd both pulled through, although she'd been informed afterward that she'd never be able to have any others.  And she didn't even been able to keep it.

It. 

His frown deepened.  He didn't even know if she'd had a boy or a girl.  And that lack of knowledge weighed heavily on his mind.

As he rounded the corner towards the gymnasium's entrance, he heard her voice drift from the opposite corner.  "You amoral, insurgent, deceitful, filthy, hypocritical, syndactylic, old snake in the grass!" 

Shawn chuckled to himself, pausing to listen as she read someone the riot act.  Oh, she had a temper, no doubt.  What redhead didn't?  She could curse with the best of the boys in the locker room.  Maybe even better and she could get vulgar enough to peel paint off the walls.  Also, as long as she was doing that and yelling too, you were still okay with her.  There was still a chance to make amends. Only those people closest to her, those that had known her as long as he had, or at least as well, knew that when she stopped cursing was when you needed to worry.  When she started using more formal speech and those big fifty-cent, words like mayonnaise, that was when there was only one option left for the person who'd raised her ire. 

Dig a hole.  Because she was about to plant you in it.

But then he heard something that made his laughter dry up and made his blood run cold.

"I mean it, Stan!  Get off me!"

A slurred voice chuckled, "Oh give me a break, Nan.  You're no innocent.  Everybody knows you spread your legs with just a wink and a smile. Who the hell do you think you are to just go and dump me a week before prom?  I dated you for three months and never got past first base.  Well that changes now."

A loud crack sounded across the night air, and the unknown male just laughed.  "Go ahead and fight me, you bitch.  That'll just make me enjoy this all that much more."

Dropping the corsage, Shawn spun around and headed towards the voices at a dead run.  He rounded the corner to see Nan struggling against a much bigger, taller boy.  He was pressing himself against her, pinning both of her hands in just one of his above her head against the brick wall of the gym, while he fumbled clumsily at the zipper on the side of her dress.  Shawn's vision went red.

Without stopping to think, he latched one hand on the back of the kid's jacket and the other on the waistband of his pants.  He pulled back sharply, yanking the kid off of her.  Before he could do more than give off more than a frightened yelp, Shawn was hurtling the boy, full strength, at the brick wall.  The kid hit it with a rebounding thump and accompanying grunt, then crumpled down to an unconscious heap on the sidewalk.

Shawn immediately turned to Nan, who was looking up at him, her brown eyes wide.  "You okay, baby doll?"  He held out his hand to her.

Nodding, she took the hand and allowed him to pull her close.  Shawn hugged her tightly, his heart still pounding furiously in his chest, realizing by the tremors racing through her body, that she was more afraid than she'd let on. 

After a moment, she pushed away.  "Shawnie, what are you doing here?  Not that I'm not glad as hell to see you."

Slightly winded, he quirked a cocky grin at her.  "Came to take you to prom.  Surprise."

She grinned, laughing.  "Don't you look spiffy."  She tweaked the bow tie that matched her dress perfectly.  Then her glanced strayed downward to where Stan lay on the ground.  "Piece of shit."

"Looks like he's out cold."

"Let's test that theory."  Before he could stop her, she planted a pointed shoe in his midsection with a sharp kick that left Shawn wincing.  Stan didn't move.  She bent over and pulled his wallet from his pants pocket, riffled it for cash, and threw it back on the ground beside him, after tucking the money down the front of her strapless gown.  "Twenty bucks.  Figures.  You always were a cheap date.  Shit-head," she spat.

"What the hell are you doing?  Stealing from him?"  Shawn asked, his cobalt blue eyes wide in the dim light of the nearby parking lot.  "Shouldn't we call the cops or something?"

"Once a Boy Scout, always a Boy Scout.  Deliver me from 'em."  She rolled her eyes.  "Shawnie, he'd been drinking.  And he never saw you.  This way, he'll just think he got rolled."  At his dubious look, she propped a fist on her hip.  "Unless you particularly want to spend the evening in the county lock-up for assault on a minor?  He's only seventeen.  You're twenty-one.  And a rising celebrity too.  They'll throw the book at you, Shawnie."

Shawn shook his head.  She was protecting him.  It just didn't sit right.  "What about fingerprints?  On the wallet," he asked as she tucked her fingers into the crook of his elbow and began to lead him back around to the front of the gym.

"I've never been printed.  Besides, you're forgetting that Brun's on the force.  Nothin' will happen to me.  You, on the other hand…" She let her implication hang in the air between them.  "If anyone asks, I came outside for some air about a half-hour ago and you surprised me."

"And where have we been for the last half-hour?"

"In your car.  They'll believe it.  Trust me."  She grinned up at him.  But through her smile, he could see the hurt behind her eyes.

Knowing she'd not appreciate having attention called to her pain, he forced a laugh, then found a real one right behind it, and began to relax.  "You were always one of the sneakiest girls I'd ever met."

"Damn proud of it too," she agreed with an emphatic nod.  The tip of her shoe hit something and she looked down to see a corsage box lying in her path. 

"Oh!  Those are for you."  Shawn bent over to pick it up, glad to see it hadn't gotten trampled.  He opened the box and pulled the flowers out, and slid the elastic band over her wrist.  He frowned when he noticed her wrist was scraped and starting to bruise.  At least the corsage would cover it. 

"There.  Pretty flowers for a pretty girl."

Her face softened into a genuine smile.  "They're lovely.  Thank you, Shawn." 

He tucked her fingers back around her arm and they walked slowly, casually around to the front.  She hesitated when they got to the entrance, surrounded by other prom attendees and the various teachers serving as chaperones.

"Don't you want to go in?  That's what I came for, ya know."

She looked up at him.  "Mind if we sit out here for a minute?"

"Sure.  How about over there?"  He pointed to a group of stone tables and benches.  Her schoolmates occupied most, but the one right in the front was empty.  She nodded gratefully, not really caring to talk to anyone at the moment.

They sat side by side on one stone bench, just enjoying the night.  They sat in silence, listening to the DJ inside blast out Word Up by Cameo on the speakers, and then laughing as the crowd inside sent up a collective cheer.  She looked over at him.  "I'm glad you came, Shawnie.  It's good to see you.  But why tonight?  I thought you wouldn't be in until tomorrow."

It was his turn to shrug.  "I wanted to see you.  To…talk."

She recognized the look on his face and sighed.  "Shawnie, I can't talk about that.  Court order, ya know."

He nodded.  "I understand that.  I just…I need to know that you're…okay."

"I'm as good as can be expected."  She turned to face him straight on.  "But Shawn, why now?  It's been two years."

"I dunno, baby doll.  It's just bugging me lately.  I feel…"

"It's not your problem, Shawn," she interrupted.  "It never was."

He fixed her with an irritated look.  "You've said that from the beginning and I still don't agree with you."

"And knowing you, you never will either.  Stubborn male."  She just looked at him, her eyes narrowing.  "I'm not allowed to talk about this.  You know that.  And you also know it tears me apart whenever you bring it up."

"I don't mean to hurt you.  I just need to know…"

"What, Shawn?  What will it take for you to drop this once and for all?"

Shawn sighed, then plunged ahead.  "What…was it?"

Her lips tightened.  "If I tell you, you have to promise me you'll never bring this up again."

"I…"

"Never, Shawn."  She was adamant.  "I mean it."

He swallowed hard.  Never was a long time.  But he had to know.  He nodded.  "Never."

She stared at him for a long moment, then whispered quietly.  "A girl."  Then she looked away.

His breath left him in a whoosh.  He was unaware that he'd been holding it.  A little girl.  He'd thought knowing would make it easier for him.  Somehow make him feel less guilty.  But it didn't.  Not that it mattered.  He'd promised her he'd never bring it up again.  And if nothing else, Shawn Michaels was a man of his word.

Nan sighed deeply.  "God, I need a smoke."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.  "Do your parents know you smoke?"

She fixed him with an incredulous stare.  Her voice dipped low to prevent being overheard.  "Shawnie, I had a baby out of wedlock at fifteen.  You think I give a rats ass whether or not they know I smoke?"

He chuckled at the truth in her words.  "Guess not."

She didn't pay him any attention, her eyes scanning the crowd.  Finding who she was looking for, she called out, "Duck!  Over here!"

A tall, lean, young black man loped easily over to where they sat.  "Hey, Red-hot!  Lookin' fly!"

She didn't mince words.  "Duck, you packin'?"

"But of course, sweet thing.  What's your pleasure?"

"Menthol.  Long if you have it.  And a canister too."

Grinning, he fished out a pack of cigarettes, passed her one, along with a black 35mm film canister.  "That'll be a buck fifty, Red-hot," he answered, With a flourished flick of his wrist, a Zippo lighter appeared, and he held out the flame, lighting the cigarette she held between her lips.

Nan took a deep drag off the cigarette, held the smoke in her lungs, and then let it out with a sigh.  "Put it on my tab."

Duck winked at her.  "Maybe we can take it out in trade."

She glared up at him, "Pound sand, Duck.  Before I pound you.  Now go away.  Grown-ups are talkin' here."

He held up his hands.  "No need to go medieval on me, Red-hot.  I'm goin'."  He looked over at Shawn.  "Hope you know what you're gettin' into with this one, man.  She's a cast-iron, cold-blooded, ball-bustin' bitch."

Shawn quickly got to his feet, his hands clenched into fists.  But Nan's words stopped him from going after the boy.  "And don't you ever forget it, Duck!  Might keep you from eatin' nothin' but soup for the rest of your life!"

She looked up at him.  "Relax, Shawnie. It was a compliment.  He's a friend."

"Humph," he snorted.  "Got a funny way of showin' it."  But he did sit back down.  He didn't say anything else, just watched as she smoked her cigarette, then crushed it under her heel in the grass.  When she popped the top on the canister, and downed the contents, he asked, "What's in that?"

She held up a finger.  Only then did he notice that she hadn't swallowed whatever was in there.  Getting up, she walked over to the trashcan near by and spit into it, then tossed in the canister and lid.  When she rejoined him, she answered, "Scope.  I may smoke, but it doesn't mean I like the way it tastes."

He almost laughed at that, obviously thinking some kind of alcohol had been inside it.  Mouthwash.  It figured.  She wasn't as tough as she wanted folks to think.  He looked across at her, and changed the subject.  Knowing she and Bobby had recently broken up – again – he asked softly.  "So…that idiot behind the gym.  That was the new boyfriend, huh?"

"Ex-boyfriend."

He nodded, pondering the insults she'd slung at him.  "Syndactylic?"

"Means web-footed."

"How's that an insult?"

She shrugged.  "He's easily insulted by anything he doesn't understand.  Besides, it fits him."

"How so?  Is he web-footed?"

"Not that I know of, nor do I care.  But he's on the swim team.  Seemed appropriate at the time," she chuckled, but Shawn was certain he could hear tears behind that bitter sound.  "What's wrong with me?  It has to be me, you know.  It can't be them.  Not all the guys I meet and am interested in can be wrong.  Statistically speaking, it just isn't plausible.  So it's gotta be me. You're a guy.  Tell me, Shawn. What exactly is wrong with me that I keep ending up with guys who treat me like shit?"

"Baby doll, it's not you.  There's nothing wrong with you," he denied.

"Somehow, I knew you were gonna say that.  I'd hoped you'd have been honest and given me some explanation that would at least lead me to something I can change.  Something I can fix about myself.  To make this not happen anymore."  She gave him a look of such disappointment that he felt wounded by it.  Somehow, what he'd said, hadn't been the right answer.  "I swear, Shawn, I'm gonna start collecting cats."

He blinked at the abrupt topic change.  "Cats?"

"Yeah, cats.  You know…there's always one crazy old spinster with about a hundred cats in everyone's neighborhood.  Looks like I'm gonna get an early start."

He wanted to laugh at the outlandish statement, but he could see she was completely serious.  "Now, baby doll, don't be that way.  You'll find someone."

She stared at him, shaking her head.  "Who?  What decent guy would want someone with all of my baggage?  I mean really, Shawn?  I'm only seventeen and my life is ruined.  I'm ruined.  Even if I did find mister right, I can't even do the one thing all women are supposed to be able to do.  Do you have any idea how hard it's gonna be for me to find that one-in-a-million guy and then lay on him that I can't have kids?"  She shook her head.  "Nope.  Gonna start collecting cats."

He didn't answer.  There was nothing he could say that would make her feel better.  Luckily, he didn't have to.  He looked over and spotted the Cavalry, or as he knew them, her best friends, Audrey Lane and Genie Bass.

"There she is!"  Audrey's voice easily carried over the other prom-goers outside.

"Hey, Nan!  Will you please tell Drey that she does not look stupid in that dress?"  Genie complained as they drew closer.  She stopped short, her eyes widening as they fell on her friend's companion.  "Oh, hey Shawn," her cheeks pinked slightly, her brown eyes wide.  "Didn't expect to see you tonight."

He grinned at the teenager, knowing she had a crush on him.  He winked at her, and the girl's cheeks went even redder.  "I just got in about forty-five minutes ago.  Decided to surprise Baby Doll.  Couldn't let her go stag to prom, ya know."

Audrey giggled at her friend's countenance, delighted whenever, no matter how rare it was, that Genie was flustered by something.  "Damn, what I wouldn't give for a camera right now."

"Oh go suck wind, Drey," Genie growled, which only prompted her friend to laugh aloud.

Nan looked up to see two cans of Pepsi in Genie's hands.  She took one gratefully, "Oh, thank God."  She popped the top and began to drink deeply.

"Yeah, I figured you came out here to hunt down Duck and would need it.  Considering that butt-munch was here."  She looked up at Shawn.  "Stan."

He nodded, but kept silent.

Nan looked over at Audrey.  "What's wrong with your dress?  Aside from it not being the one you picked out."

Audrey rolled her eyes melodramatically.  "What's not wrong with it?  Eliza did this to me," she howled, referring to her stepmother.  "I hate sky-blue.  It makes me look like shit, and she did this on purpose!"

Nan cast a critical eye on the gown.  It wasn't the best color for her, true.  But it did flatter her figure.  "It's not that bad, Drey.  You don't look stupid."

"I feel like a fuckin' Smurf."

"You mean Smurfette," Genie chortled.

Audrey glowered at her friend.  "Don't start with me, Bass!" 

"I think you look great, Drey," a male voice spoke from behind them.

Audrey whirled around, her mouth hanging open at the speaker.  "Uh…thanks, Mike."

The tall, brown haired young man offered her his arm.  "Wanna dance?"

"Uh-huh…yeah."  She nodded, her green eyes as big as Buick hubcaps.  "Sure."

As the couple wandered away towards the gym, their friends forgotten, Shawn grinned.  "Crisis averted."

"Thank God. I love her and all that, but damn can she work my nerves," Genie grumbled, impatiently shoving her inky-black bangs away from her face.  She looked over at Nan.  "Have you seen Rat?"

Nan shook her head.  "Not recently."

"Sonofabitch," Genie cursed.  "He'd better hope I don't find him with Mary-Jo McKeckney or he'll walk crooked for at least a month.  See you guys inside," she called over her shoulder as she stomped away.

Shawn looked down at Nan.  "Rat?"

"Her date."

"She's dating a guy named Rat?"

"It's a long story."  She waived her hand dismissively, standing up.  "You ready to go inside?"

"Are you?"

She nodded, breathing deeply.  "Yeah.  Let's do this thing."

Shawn wasn't far removed enough from his own proms to find this one either juvenile or silly.  In fact, he found he was enjoying himself immensely.  As soon as they'd crossed the threshold to the interior of the gym, Nan had pasted on a fake smile, and pretended to be having the time of her life.  Never let 'em see you sweat, she'd whispered to him when they walked in.

But it wasn't long before the fake smile turned into a genuine one.  They'd used the money she'd lifted from Stan's wallet to have pictures taken of the two of them, and Shawn had added some of his own, just to make sure they got a full set.  They'd laughed at the ludicrous decorations, of coral reefs, tropical fish, and multicolored balloons, all designed to give the illusion of being under the sea.  It failed miserably, but it was still kind of fun.  The finger-foods on the buffet were good, although some things just defied identification.  They'd laughed and joked around with her friends, most of them not even recognizing him as a professional wrestler.  One or two had, but Nan had steered them away from those.  It was nice having a bit of anonymity where he least expected it.  He'd met some of her teachers, and her principle, Mrs. Suits.  And they'd danced, resting only when she declared a song to be "lame."

They were currently back on the dance-floor, as the last notes of Wipe Out faded away.  A slow number came on, and Nan moved to pull away, but he didn't let her.

"Afraid you're gonna lead me on?"  Shawn teased.

"You've got to be kidding.  Me?  The spinster?  I'm collecting cats, remember?"  She smiled back.

He looked down into her eyes, relieved to see no pain, only humor shining back at him.  "That's right.  I forgot.  So I guess it's safe to slow dance with you then."

She shrugged.  "The consequences are on your hands, not mine."

"I'll risk it," he chuckled.  They settled into a gentle sway.  And he couldn't help himself.  "Baby doll, about what you said outside…the collecting cats thing."

"Shawnie…"

"Hush up, girl, and let me speak my peace."  When she extracted a hand from around his neck, and mimed zipping her lips, he continued.  "It's not you.  There's nothing wrong with you, baby doll.  The reason you're having so much trouble is because you're light-years ahead of these kids in maturity.  Yeah, it sucks because of what you had to go through to get there, but there you are regardless.  Be patient, give it some time, and I guarantee you, you'll find your Champion someday.  He's gonna adore you, willing to do anything just to make you smile.  And if he doesn't, you call me, and I'll personally kick his ass for being a moronic putz."

She cocked her head, a glimmer of hope shinning in those dark eyes.  "Can I hold you to that?  Not the ass-kicking part, but the other stuff?  You promise?"

"I promise."  He nodded.  "Baby doll, if it's ever up to me, I'll do everything in my power to see it happen.  You're a wonderful girl…wonderful woman…and whoever you end up with is gonna be one lucky bastard."

"Thank you, Shawn," she whispered quietly, her eyes luminous as they stared up at him.

Faintly he was aware of the song they were dancing to, very romantic, in a dark, sexy kind of way. 

Electricity – eye to eye
Hey do I know you?
I can't speak
Stripped my senses on the spot
I've never been defenseless
I can't even make sense of this
You speak and I don't hear a word 

Maybe it was the song playing in the background.  Maybe it was the soft lighting.  Maybe it was the fact that he couldn't remember when she'd ever looked prettier in her emerald green gown and her red hair pulled back from her face in a floppy bow that matched the dress, leaving the ends to curl around her bare shoulders.  Maybe it was the way she was looking up at him, with her heart in her eyes, both scared and hopeful at the same time.  Vulnerable.

What would happen if we kissed?
Would your tongue slip past my lips?
Would you run away?
Would you stay?
Or would I melt into you?
Mouth to mouth – lust to lust
Spontaneously combust  

Before he realized what he was doing, he dipped his head, brushing his lips across hers.  Softly at first, then more firmly.  As her eyes fluttered shut, his did the same.  Her lips parted slightly, and he dipped in for a taste.  Finding her sweet on his tongue, he went back for more, and she sighed, giving him further access.

I struggle with myself again
Quickly the walls come crumblin'
Don't know if I can turn away…
What would happen if we kissed?
Would your tongue slip past my lips?
Would you run away?
Would you stay?
Or would I melt into you? 

Reality returned with the ending of the song, and he pulled away, his eyes wide, his breathing coming in short pants and shuddering.  She stared up at him, blinking, with a mixture of shock and confusion on her face, her fingers going up to cover her mouth.

"Baby doll…I…" he cleared his throat.  "I…uh…we'd better go."

She nodded, her voice sounding unsteady to him.  "Yeah.  Good idea."

As they walked out of the gym and towards his rental car, neither of them spoke.  But Shawn was busily trying to come up with an explanation for that kiss.  Why he'd done it.  What the hell had he been thinking?  He hadn't been.  Maybe…maybe it had been the all of the teenage hormones floating in the air around them.  Yeah.  That sounded good.

Or maybe it was just because he was an idiot.  Unfortunately, that one made the most sense. 

+++++ 

Shawn looked down at the small photo in his hands that he'd pulled from his wallet.  A twenty-one year old version of himself grinned slyly at the redhead in his arms, as she smiled for the camera.  He'd been tickling her, trying to get her to really smile.  He couldn't help but grin back at the image.

His gaze flickered over to Lillian, but she had her eyes closed, leaning against the headrest.  Silently, he slipped the photo back into his wallet, then tucked it back into his jeans.  He leaned his head back, and closed his eyes with a deep breath.  Feeling eyes on him, he peeled open his lids to see Hunter looking at him from across the cabin from where he sat with Tina. 

He grinned at him, with a nod.  Shawn returned it.  When Hunter turned away, Shawn did the same.  He leaned his head back again and closed his eyes.  He could tell by the look on Hunter's face that he'd seen him staring at the picture.  But he'd bet his next paycheck that Hunt thought it was a picture of Rebecca or Cameron.  To his knowledge, Hunt didn't know that Shawn had taken Nan to her Senior Prom.  He didn't know what else his volatile friend knew about Nan's teenage past.  But he did know that Hunt didn't know he'd ever kissed his fiancée.  And by God, it was gonna stay that way.   

~<>~

In my mind I’m goin’ to Carolina
Can’t you see the sunshine
Can’t you just feel the moonshine
Maybe just like a friend of mine
It hit me from behind
Yes I’m goin’ to Carolina in my mind
With a holy host of others standing ’round me
Still I’m on the dark side of the moon
And it seems like it goes on like this forever
You must forgive me
If I’m up and gone to Carolina in my mind
       Carolina In My Mind – James Taylor

September 21, 2004 – 6:23 a.m. EST
Brun Elliott's Home – Moccasin Gap, North Carolina 

Nan crept quietly down the hall and down the stairs, grateful that she was the only person – for now – sleeping upstairs in one of the four newly remodeled bedrooms.  Brun, his wife Cindy and their three children, Geoffrey, Justin, and Jessie, all had their rooms on the first floor of her old homestead.  She stopped long enough to peek into Justin's room where Jack slept curled up with Dixie in the spare bed.  She smiled at the sweet little boy, her heart twisting at the sight.

Satisfied that she'd not woken anyone, Nan continued down the hallway into the family room and towards the screened in porch.  She grabbed Hunter's old leather and denim jacket off the coat rack by the back door.  Tugging the bulky coat over her shoulders, she tucked it securely over her tank top and shorts, and silently slipped out into the dew covered grass.

It didn't matter to her that the sun was barely up, or that a thick fog enveloped the landscape as far as the eye could see.  This was her family's land, the house she'd spent most of her life in, until moving in with Bobby.  She could have picked her way across this yard in her sleep.  Come to think of it, she actually had done just that once or twice. 

It was a short walk from the back door to the old porch swing strung from an ancient oak tree in the side yard, next to the drive, behind the azalea bushes she and her Grandma Elliott had planted when she was ten.  By the time she got to the swing, her feet were soaking wet with dew and freshly cut blades of  grass dotted her pale skin up to the ankles.  And her toes were numb.

She climbed up into the swing, tucking her feet up under her, after using the sleeve of the jacket to wipe off the grass before it made her start to itch.  Snuggling down into the oversized garment, she buried her nose in the collar, breathing in Hunter's faint scent, letting it fill her and calm her screaming nerves.  She smiled against the leather.  She loved this coat, almost as much as she loved the man who once wore it regularly.  He'd given it up when he left Smackdown and Steph behind for good, preferring the dress attire and suits he sported now.  Sure, he still donned his jeans and tight T-shirts when he wasn't being "The Game."  But not this jacket.  Well, not until she'd confiscated it, then asked him to wear it on occasion so it would smell like him.  It was a great source of comfort to her when they were apart and when she missed him badly.  Like now.

Her smile faded as she thought about what had sent her scurrying for her favorite thinking spot in the rising dawn.  She'd dreamed about Bobby's death and her ex-best friend's presence that night more times than she could count.  But never before had her subconscious combined it with one of the more memorable heart-stopping moments of Hunter's wrestling career.  And then to have Bobby show up and…rot…in front of her…she shuddered violently, causing the swing to begin a gentle sway.

That was just dirty pool, as far as she was concerned.  And it hadn't even really happened that way.  Hunter hadn't died in that car.  But he'd come close. 

++++

 
Without love I wouldn't believe
In anything that lives and breathes
Without love I'd have no anger
I wouldn't believe in the right to stand here
Without love I wouldn't believe
I couldn't believe in you
And I wouldn't believe in me
Without love
       Believe – Sir Elton John

November 19, 2000 10:55 p.m. EST
Survivor Series – Tampa, Florida 

"Let go of me!  I've got to– "

"–stay right here and let the paramedics do their jobs, Nan," he whispered in her ear.  They were standing outside of the arena in the parking lot, between two black vans, far from any eyes that might question their presence.  He had both long arms wrapped around her from behind, anchoring her against his chest to keep her from running head-long into the wreck that had been Triple H's car.

"Edge, you don't understand!"

"You love him," he answered.  "I do understand.  Or have you forgotten who it was that stayed up until dawn with you to keep you from falling apart the night you found out he'd married the Billion Dollar Princess?"

"I've not forgotten," she whispered.  Nan stopped struggling, half-turning in his embrace.  She lifted too-big eyes, full of pain, terror, and tears, up to him.  "I can't…I can't lose him, Edge."

He leaned over to press his forehead against hers, then pulled back.  "Nan, you don't have him.  Stephanie does.  For better or worse, ya know?"

"Don't remind me," she lowered her eyes, then turned her gaze back to where the EMTs were now loading Triple H's battered, bleeding body onto the gurney and into the ambulance. 

Neither of them spoke as the ambulance's sirens and lights came on and it sped away into the night.  The silence in the parking lot was heavy, and anxious, as the onlookers, mostly the tech crew and a few of the talent began to head back into the arena, in absolute quiet.  What they had all just witnessed was too fresh and too appalling, even to those who truly hated The Game, to believe.

Only when they were alone out back, did Edge finally speak.  "You're with Jericho now.  Why can't you just forget about Triple H?  He barely knows you and has no idea how you feel about him.  Not that it would matter, probably."

With a sharp shove, she broke his hold, glaring angrily up at him.  "One of these days, Edge, you're going to meet some woman who'll you'd walk across broken glass for, just to make her smile.  One who captures your heart, to the point that you feel like part of you is missing when you can't be with her.  And I pray I'll be there to see it happen.  But you mark my words, if something ever should happen to keep the two of you apart – God forbid – then I'm gonna ask you why you can't just forget her and move on.  Then you can tell me just how much you fucking like it!"

As she stomped back towards the arena, his voice stopped her.  "Nan, I didn't mean it like that."

"I don't care.  You shouldn't have said it."

"Where are you going?"

"Away from here," she retorted.

"What am I supposed to tell Chris?  He's already pissed off about losing to Kane tonight.  And this is just gonna set him off again.  We were all supposed to go back to my place.  Remember?"

"Tell him…tell him I'll meet you guys there.  I've got some business to take care of."

"Lemme guess.  Triple H business."  His lips twisted into a frown.  At her resounding silence, he sighed.  "He loves you, Nan.  And you're gonna end up hurting him.  He doesn't deserve that."

She knew he wasn't talking about Hunter, but Chris.  Sadly, she nodded.  "I know.  And that's my cross to bear."

Turning on her heel, she left him in the parking lot and went back into the arena.  Determinedly, she headed straight for the men's locker room, and ran into Jeff Hardy coming out.

"Hey, Rainbow Bright," she called with false cheer.

The young North Carolina wrestling phenomenon just glared at her.  "Do you have to call me that?"

"No, I don't have to, but you make it so easy.  Sorry," she apologized, unrepentant.  "Anyone left in there?"  She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the closed locker room door.

"Just Holly, Guerrero, and Austin."

" Congratulations, by the way.  Hell of a match tonight."

"Thanks," he muttered as he headed towards the exit.

Once he was out of sight, she took a deep breath, and shook the tension out of her shoulders.  With a determined tilt to her chin, she pushed the door open and walked into the heart of No Women's Land.

"Hey!  No girls allowed!"  Crash Holly yelled as he ducked behind an open locker door.

A disgusted male voice answered.  "Idiot.  You're dressed."

"Oh, yeah."  Crash popped back out with his customary overly happy smile.  "Forgot there for a minute."  He immediately sat back down on one of the benches and finished tying up his sneakers.  Then he propped his face in his hands, bracing his elbows on his knees and stared at the two of them.

Eddie Guerrero rolled his eyes, and turned towards Nan.  "¡Hola, cariña! Yo no supe que usted estaría aquí esta noche."  He took both of her hands in his and gave her smile, looking her up and down.  "Damn!  You're lookin' fine, fiera.  Casi me hace deseo que yo no fuera casado.  Almost."

She gave a little laugh.  "Yeah, you let Connie hear you say that and she'll cut both of us."

"Hey, cariña," he chuckled teasingly.  "What mi esposa doesn't know…no me dolerá.  ¿Tu sabes?"

"Entiendo, Eddie.  I know," she grinned. 

"You have a hug for tu novio favorito?"  He held open his arms to her with his most charmingly wicked grin. 

She gratefully walked into the shelter of his support, returning his squeeze.  She whispered, "Usted es un perro, Eddie.  But that's one of the things I love about you.  Yo le he perdido."

He laughed.  "What's not to miss, fiera?"  He stepped back and got a good look at her face.  His smile immediately disappeared.  " Ay Dios, cariña.  ¿Qué es su problema?  Who put that look in your eyes?"

She just glanced behind him to the showers where the water had just shut off.  "Can I have a few minutes alone?"

Eddie fixed her with a serious, dark look.  With a grave nod, he directed his words to Crash, who still sat on the bench, his eyes popping back and forth between the two of them like a spectator at a tennis match.  "Vamanos, Crash.  Let's go."

His head popped up off his hands.  "Ooooh no.  If the mouth there is gonna tear Austin a new one, I ain't missin' it!"

"Mouth?!  Why you–" Eddie began a stream of curses in Spanish that left Nan's cheeks flaming.  He picked up his gear bag and would have thrown it at the young wrestler, if Nan's hand on his arm hadn't stopped him.

"Eddie," she began.  "Would you please escort Elroy Jetson outside?"

He grinned.  "My pleasure."  Eddie slung his bag over his shoulder and stalked over to him.  Crash immediately jumped up on the bench, bracing his legs, ready for a fight.

"Now-now-now-now, I don't wanna hurt you, Latino Heat.  But I will.  If ya make me."

Eddie only laughed as he drove his shoulder into Crash's abdomen, effectively pushing the wind out of the younger man's lungs, doubling him over Eddie's back.  That position made it very easy on Eddie to simply stand up and carry Crash, gasping for air, towards the door, kicking the young man's bag with every step.  With a wink to Nan, he left the room.

She didn't have to wait for long.  Almost seconds after Eddie and Crash left, Steve stepped out of the shower area and into the main locker room.  Focused on knotting the towel around his hips, he didn't see her at first.  When he looked up, he stopped dead in the middle of the room, only his eyes showing any hint of surprise.  Quickly he looked away, and moved towards where his gym bag lay open on a bench to her left.

He chuckled to himself with a self-effacing grin.  "I shoulda known you'd show up sooner'n later."  When she didn't speak, he began pulling clothes out of his bag and laying them on the bench.  "You gonna say somethin' or are ya just gonna stand there and stare at me?  'Cuz I kinda need ta get dressed here."

"Who's stopping you."  Her voice was low, icy cold, yet trembling.

Steve looked up at her, his mouth turning down in the corners into a scowl.  "You are."

"I'm not doing a damn thing.  Change if you want.  I don't give a fuck one way or the other."

His cold blue eyes met her blazing brown stare and held.  Without wavering his gaze, he unknotted the towel at his waist and let it drop.  Her eyes didn't even flicker, latched onto his with a determination that spoke loudly that she wasn't going anywhere no matter what he did.  He propped his hands on his hips and just stared back, neither of them seeming to even notice that he was completely naked.  Enjoying the stare-down, his lips turned up at the corners.

"Expecting me to be impressed," she murmured with ice in her voice.

"Most women are."

"I'm not most women."

"No.  Ya definitely ain't."  Finally Steve chuckled again, turning around to slip into his underwear.  His jeans followed suit.  "Ya got balls of pure steel.  But ya always did.  So, what's on your mind, kid?  Not like I don't know already."

"How could you?"

"Ya knew the answer to that question before ya even asked it.  Ya think I was just gonna let it slide?  Let him get away with him runnin' me over?"

"Oh bullshit, Steve!"  She exploded.  "That might have weight with other imbeciles around here, but it won't wash with me, and you know it!  That dog won't hunt!"

"He almost killed me, woman!"

"No he didn't!"  She was yelling now.  "You got hurt, yeah.  But you've been hurt worse in the ring and you know it.  So you ended up getting that neck surgery that you needed anyway from Owen dropping you on your thick head!"

He sat down heavily on the bench and began pulling on his cowboy boots, shaking his head.  "Doesn't matter.  He tried to kill me."

"Hunter wasn't even driving that car, goddamnit!"

Steve's head popped out of the shirt he was pulling on, his eyes ablaze with fury.  "He was the man behind it!  Paid Rikishi to do it!"

She threw up her hands in frustration.  "Yeah, he did.  But Keesh is the one who did it!  He didn't have to, wasn't forced to.  He chose to do it!  So why in the hell aren't you going after Rikishi?!"

He laughed at her.  "Why waste my time with the middle-man?  It was Triple H's idea.  Let him pay the consequences for it."

Nan stared at the man she once considered a friend, not even knowing who he was anymore.  "You don't even care if he lives or dies, do you?  How it'll affect Stephanie.  Or me."

"Why should I?  And don't be puttin' how this affects you at my feet.  You're the one that got yourself all tangled up in that weird little triangle.  Not me."  He picked up his bag, settling the strap high up on his shoulder.  "And don't fool yourself for one damn minute that Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley gives a shit about him.  Or you.  We both know better than that."

"I know that better than anyone."

He nodded gravely at her, his eyes going a bit sad.  "Yeah, ya would.  I tried ta warn ya…back when ya almost begged me ta go save her from the Undertaker and all that…crazy shit he was doin' ta her before she hooked up with Test.  Ya didn't listen to me then."

"And I'm not listening to you now either. She was there the night Bobby died.  She kept me from going completely insane.  I owe her."

He dropped his bag back down with a violent curse, and stomped over to her, grabbing her by the upper arms.  "Damnit, kid!  I know you two were friends.  And I know how close you two were, better'n most of the numb-nuts around here.  But what her daddy did to her – all in the name of business –  fucked her up good.  She ain't the same gal you were so tight with!"

She pushed away from him.  "Don't you think I don't know that?!  She married the man that she knew I'm in love with to get even with Vince.  But she also did it to get back at me.  So don't preach at me, Steve, about not knowing what she's like now.  I know.  Better than you."

He looked at her for a moment.  "Ya still love him…even though he's married to her."

"Yeah."

"Yer mealy-mouthed little boyfriend know how ya feel about Triple H?"

Nan shook her head.  "No.  And don't start with me on that either.  Edge has already given me enough of that tonight."

Steve shrugged.  "Don't particularly care one way or the other about Fountain-Head.  But The Game, he doesn't know either, huh?"

  "No.  He never got the chance to even know I was interested in him, much less love him.  Steph married him before I could tell him.  And now…he might never know.  Thanks to you."  Nan walked away from him, rubbing at her arms. 

Steve scratched his head, not liking how he was feeling.  "Don't ask me to be sorry for what I did tonight."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," she laughed sarcastically.  "It might have to make you admit you were wrong about something."

Grumbling, Steve marched back over to the bench, and rifled through his bag.  Finding what he was looking for, he pulled it out, and went back over to her.  Grabbing her shoulder, he turned her around, and thrust a ball of black fabric at her.  "He'll be at Memorial.  Go."

Nan unfolded the shirt he'd given her, to see an official WWF Staff polo shirt.  That, plus her ID badge given to her by Chris for her backstage access would get her through the door with no questions.  She looked up at him, her eyes wide.  "Why?  Why do this for me?"

"I like ya, kid.  Not a lot, but I like ya.  But maybe I hate the McMahon's more."  He stared at her, his hand poised on the locker room door.  "If ya end up workin' it out…I'd like an invitation to the weddin'."  And with that cryptic statement, he walked out of the room.

  Ten minutes later, dressed in the WWF shirt and her hair stuffed up under a WWF cap she'd found lying backstage, Nan walked through the emergency room doors to the Memorial Hospital of Tampa.  She walked up to the duty nurse, and pulled out her ID badge, waving it briefly before the woman could get a good look at it, and stuffed it back down her shirt.

"I'm here to check on Hunter Hearst Helmsley.  He was brought in a little while ago.  When can I see him," she asked, with no small amount of nerves, but still projecting the attitude that she had every right to be there.