WWE Dedication 

This chapter, although it doesn't feature him, is dedicated to Eddie Guerrero, who passed away this morning, November 13, 2005.  I'll say more about this in the future, but for now, after much discussion and prayer, I have decided to continue to feature Eddie's character where appropriate in Behind The Scenes.  If this offends anyone, I apologize.  But I have to deal with this in my own way.  My heartfelt prayers and sympathies go out to his wife, and three daughters.  

I loved you Eddie, as did many others.  You will be missed.  But not forgotten.

Chapter 24

Title: There's No Place Like Home
Author: Empress
Email: Empress@thewaysideinn.net
Distribution: Empress' Private Library and The Wayside Inn  All others ask first.
Rating: NC-17...for sex…what else would it be for, huh?
Characters: A Hunter/Nan story – along with anyone else that I feel like playing with.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Not much…some sex, lots of foul language, some North Carolina history, and a smattering of small-town Southern culture.
Author's Notes: Notes 1-4 really apply to this chapter and most of any forthcoming chapters that deal with North Carolina…but I'm only gonna mention all of this crap once. And there will be a quiz later on note #5. So pay attention.
1.For the most part, I'm obliterating what passes for true North Carolina history, and re-writing it to suit myself. However, there is some of it in this installment. I've just changed it to fit BTS. And I've also changed names of places, added lakes where there aren't any, moved cities all over the state, and altered the flow of several rivers. Now, for those of you who do live in NC and care about such matters…I apologize. But most of you don't live here, don't know the history, and probably quite honestly, don't care. So just enjoy.
2.Please remember that Douglas Airforce Base and the town of Moccasin Gap are my own creations and don't exist…well, actually they do. Just not where I say they are and not under those names. The same goes for Lake Shaconage and the Catawba River…well, the river is real, and I didn't change it's name. I just made it bigger, deeper, and moved it…like several miles northwest. But the lake is entirely my own. And the only way you can see Grandfather Mountain from somewhere near Charlotte is with a telescope. Hee-hee!
3.Karen has convinced me that she likes to actually see the things I'm talking about sometimes…so for her, I've included pictures of Miss Millie's house. For those so minded, this house does indeed exist in NC. It's the Mariemy Mansion, located in downtown Wilmington, North Carolina. I fell in love with it when I was 14 and first saw it when it was covered in soot and smoke damage from a fire decades earlier. My mother and I crawled through a hole in a back wall to walk up onto the porches of the old mansion and peeked in through dirty windows at what I still say is the most beautiful home I've ever seen, even in it's dilapidated, burned, and nearly condemned state. Since then they've restored it, the grounds, and the outbuildings, and it is currently on the tour of historical homes. And I have yet to see it in person…maybe some day, I'll get to see it as it would have been over 150 years ago. In reality, the Mariemy Mansion has five and a quarter stories: a sub-basement, a basement, first, second, third floors, a full attic, and an enclosed widow's walk. For BTS purposes, I've removed the third floor and the sub-basement.
4.Any history of Miss Millie's house revealed in this installment or future ones – unlike that of the Mariemy Mansion – is completely contrived by me and is entirely fictional. Except for the references to President Andrew Johnson, and Union General Hawley. That's legit. For the real history of the beautiful building that Miss Millie's house is based upon, please go here: Mariemy Mansion.
5.The excerpt read by Hunter in this chapter actually is from Tales From Wrescal Lane by Mick Foley.
6.Oh, and let us not forget that the Taboo Tuesday referred to in this installment is the one that took place in 2004. Not week before last. I know…it's confusing. Just relax. It'll be okay.
Dedication: Once again, for my Mother. Momma, you've waited 23 years to finally see me write about this house. I hope it was worth waiting for and lives up to your expectations. I love you.
Feedback: What? Are you kidding me? I live for it!
Summary Quote: You take friendship very seriously. More serious than most people I know, myself excluded. And when a friendship is betrayed, you meter out your own version of justice until that betrayal is satisfied. Then you let it go. Really let it go, leaving it up to the other person to decide where you two go from there.
Disclaimer: Not mine – Vince's, Linda's, Shane's, and Stephanie's. And probably Hunter's too, now come to think of it. But some are mine and I'm keeping those. No money made was made off the writing of this idiocy. But I do get some pretty nice emails about it. Sue me and you get…lemme see…well, I managed to get rid of the Beethoven movie. So, I guess all that's left to claim is a bag of unmated socks. You know the ones…their mates disappear somewhere between the washing machine and the dryer, even though the two machines are less than an inch apart. Sue me and you get the Sock Bag. Yeah. That'll do. **sound of crickets chirping** Okay! Don't touch that dial! We'll be right back!

Face to face, out in the heat
Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry
They stack the odds 'til we take to the street
For we kill with the skill to survive
Risin' up, straight to the top
Have the guts, got the glory
Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive
       Eye Of The Tiger – Survivor

October 19, 2004 6:55 p.m. CST
Front Row Ringside – Taboo Tuesday – Bradley Center – Milwaukee, WI 

"Don't you wish, sometimes, that you could bottle all of that energy?  And sell it?  You'd make a mint.  Hell, I'd buy some."

"What?  Is Chris wearing you out that badly?  Do I need to talk to him?"

"Don't you dare!"  Rosie feigned offense.  "If anything, I wish he weren't so tired lately.  I mean its not like we don't.  More like we just don't for long enough, if you know what I mean."

"Too much information, Ro," Nan cut her off with a choked sound.  "I can't handle a conversation like this without alcohol, or in the present company."  She winked at the woman sitting next to her.  "Save it for later, and I'll be happy to hear all of the details."

"Spoil-sport," she pouted playfully.  "But you're on for later."  Then her eyes strayed to the bundle of energy she'd mentioned previously, and silently agreed with her brother's fiancée.  "Yeah, not a good natter in front of little ears."

Nan had to laugh at her soon to be sister-in-law's sardonic comment and following blush.  She watched the blonde-haired rag-a-muffin as he swiveled his head in all directions as fast as he could, trying to take in every little sight and sound.  He scrambled from Rosie's lap to her own, then from the folding chair between the two women, to leaning his elbows on the barricade separating them from the ring, and then back again.  The whole time, he kept Doc the Bear tightly clutched under his arm or in the crook of his elbow.  And every few seconds he'd point out a new discovery or delight.

"Lookit, Aunt Ro!  That lady hath a thign with Unca Chrith'th name on it!  Mith Nan!  Thee!  That kid over there hath on a thirt like mine with Mithter Hunter'th fathe on it!  He'th got a lot of teeth when he yellth like that don't he??"

"Not as many as Edge," Rosie murmured with a chuckle.

"Be nice," Nan smiled wickedly grinning down at the picture of her toothy friend where he bared all of those white teeth back at her from the open program on her lap.

"Me?  Triple H's sister?  Be nice?  Surely you jest," she whispered so no one around them would overhear.  Not that that was really likely, given the volume in the arena as the tech-crew came out to change the set, preparing for the evening's pay-per-view.

"Rosie," Nan rumbled warningly, glancing Jack's way.

"Oh relax already, will you?"  Rosie muttered, pushing a stray lock of chestnut colored hair away from her face.  "He's too excited to pay either of us any attention at all."

The redhead wrinkled her lips skeptically.  "I wouldn't bet on that, Ro," she murmured softly.  "I think we'd all be very surprised at what he picks up on."

Rosie started to shift around a little in her chair, finding Jack's enthusiasm contagious.  "Fffttt," she scoffed.  "Normally I'd agree with you.  But tonight all of his attention is focused on our friends and that big brother of mine.  And you know it.  He'll settle down and sit still soon, I'll bet."

Nan had her doubts on that, but she kept quiet.  Still, she thought to herself.  Right now he couldn't be still if his life depended on it.  And it was just going to get worse, because he was gonna get to watch Mister Hunter and Unca Shawn wrethcal tonight, as Jack had put it earlier.  She just hoped that the audience didn't vote to have two of the most important men in her life wrestle each other since she knew how badly Shawn was injured.  But she didn't think she'd be so lucky.  The WWE fans loved to watch those two beat the living hell out of one another. 

But with Benoit in the running too, it could be a close vote.  Oddly enough, even though she loved her friend Edge dearly, she really didn't think he stood a chance in the voting.  Not with Shawn and Benoit up against him.  And that was a shame too, she thought.  Edge deserved a chance at the title…although she'd cut out her own tongue before she ever admitted that aloud to Hunter while he held the championship.  Some opinions just weren't worth the argument that the expression of said opinions would guarantee.

Nan's lips curved upwards in an expression of content adoration as she watched the little blonde-haired boy as he bounced back and forth on a single unlaced sneaker like someone had dropped a live fish down his underpants.  It wouldn't surprise her, though, to find that he really was oblivious to their conversation.  Jack's cheeks were flushed, and his eyes sparkled with excitement as they darted around the arena.  Her heart clenched then swelled at the emotions filling her at the gleaming bright-eyed, gap-toothed gamine smile that he flashed at her as he pointed at an arena staffer carrying bags of flamboyantly colored cotton candy on a pole.

"Ro?  Want any?"  Nan directed her question to the now laughing brunette as she read one of the fans' more explicit signs more on the other side of the arena.  Something likening Randy…to a litter box…and what cats do in it.

"No thanks.  I'll just have a bite of Jack's if he doesn't mind sharing," Rosie teased the little boy.

But Jack was vibrating in place, waving Doc the Bear at the approaching cotton candy vendor, and completely ignored her implied question.  Nan peeled off the requisite number of bills from the cash she'd stuffed down in the front pocket of her denim skirt and paid the vendor, then passed the bag of sticky sweets to Jack with an admonition to go slow and make it last.

However, her warning was drowned out as fireworks went off and music blared for JR and King to make their entrances, signaling the end of Heat and the beginning of Taboo Tuesday. 

~<>~

You only learn where you are inside, when life gives you the test
Will you back down, turn and run, or stand up with the best?
When your back's to the wall, what will your answer be?
Will run for the door...will you run out on me like it's hard?
       No Holes Barred – WWE Anthology

October 19, 2004 8:37 p.m. CST
Backstage – Taboo Tuesday – Bradley Center – Milwaukee, WI 

Nan fought down giggles, watching Stacy, still in her schoolgirl costume as she bounced Jack on her knees.  Both of them seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, which was a far cry from the state the little boy had been in when he'd first demanded to go see his Aunt Skye.  Demanded, she nodded to herself.  That had definitely been the right word choice.

The night had started out well enough with the Divas coming out first.  Stacy had been the third one out.  Jack had seen her and gone nuts.  She had to laugh when he all but climbed up on the barricade and had bellowed  "Hey Aunt Thkye!!"

She'd tried to tell Jack that Stacy couldn't possibly hear him, then nearly dropped her teeth when Stacy lifted a hand, winked right at him and waved cheerily, her face brilliant.  Then she remembered where she was and gave the fans her patented Stacy smile and waved at them all.

And Jack hadn't settled down a bit after that.  When they panned the eligible wrestlers to go up against Chris for his Intercontinental Championship title, Jack had squealed, "Dave!  That'th Dave, Aunt Ro!" 

It only got better from there for the two women laughing at his antics when, during Chris' match, Shelton threw Jericho over the top rope and he crashed into the barricade right in front of where they sat.  Jack climbed up on the railing and leaned so far over that Nan and Rosie both scrambled for him, snagging him by the belt to keep him from falling on his head. 

Jack was oblivious and yelled, "Unca Chrith!  You okay?!"  Leaving no doubt to anyone in earshot as to who he supported in the match.  Chris glanced up at the little boy and winked, sending the child into a fit of giggles.

But the real shocker of the evening thusfar had been when Jack morphed into Mini-Game at Stacy's abuse at Trish's hands during the Diva Battle Royal.  When the Women's Champ had started choking Stacy with one of the black ribbons that came loose from her ponytails, Jack had gone ballistic, pounding on the barricade with his little fists, and screaming at her, "You let my Aunt Thkye alone!!"

By the time Stacy landed hard on the mat at ringside, Jack's face was mottled with rage, his chest heaving.  He'd spun around and demanded to go make sure Stacy was okay. 

And now here they were.

Nan looked at her friend again.  "You know, Buffy, Momma's gonna love those shoes."  She pointed down at the saddle oxfords on Stacy's feet.  "Expect a call from her later on it."

Stacy grinned at her friend, "Looking forward to it, Faith."

"I knew I'd find you two together, if I looked hard enough," a familiar voice called out.

Stacy was the first one on her feet, quickly setting Jack back down.  "Mick!"  She cried, racing over to hug him tightly.

Mick Foley returned the hug and patted her hair.  "You doing okay, Stacy?"

Her blonde head bobbed, her smile blinding.

Mick turned to Nan.  "Hey girl.  You gotta hug for me too?"

"Always."  Nan embraced her friend with a smile on her face.

He let her go and spied Jack clinging to her leg, peeping out shyly from behind her.  "Who's this?"

"Jack," Nan said gently.  "Can you come out and say hello to Mick?"

But Jack disappeared back behind Nan.  She cast an apologetic look at her friend.  "I'm sorry.  He gets a little shy around strangers sometimes."

"No, that's okay."  Mick waved off her concern. Then he gave her that charming toothless grin.  "But someone tells me that there's a little boy back here who just loves wrescalling.  I've been looking all over and just cant seem to find him."

Jack peeped one indigo eye out from behind Nan, and spoke very softly, "I love wresthcalling."

"You do?"  Mick's eyes were wide with child-like wonder.  At Jack's nod, he continued.  "Well, then maybe you're the little boy I'm looking for.  But, nah.  You can't be him.  This little boy likes Triple H and Shawn Michaels too."

Jack moved a smidgen further out from behind Nan's hip, so that both eyes could be seen.  "I like Mithter Hunter and Unca Thhawn."

"Is that so?"  Mick grinned.  "Wow, that's strange.  Two little boys somewhere back here, who love wrescalling, and who like Triple H and Shawn Michaels.  Maybe it is you.  Let me think…" he tapped his finger against his scruffy chin.  "Tell me Jack, do you like…bedtime stories, too?"

Jack stepped out completely from his protected spot.  "I love bedtime thtorieth!  Ethpethially when Mithter Hunter readth them to me!  We jutht finithhed The Lion The Witch And The Wardrobe with Cam an' Unca Thhawn latht week.  And Mithter Hunter thayth we're gonna thtart on The Voyage of the Dawn Treader netht!"

Mick squatted down to his level and presented a book to him.  "Then you are the little boy I'm looking for.  Here ya go.  For you."

Jack took the book after a cautious look at Nan, who nodded.  He glanced down at the shiny yellow cover with a bunch of kids on the front.  "Taleth From Wrethcall Lane, by Mick Foley."  Jack read haltingly.  He looked curiously at Mick.  "You wrote thith?"

"I did.  Open it."

Jack did as he was bid, and read the scrawling print there.  "To my friend, Acthion Jackthon.  Love, Mick Foley.  Bang bang!"  The child didn't say anything for a moment, then threw himself at the burly wrestler turned author, hugging him tightly around the neck.

Mick laughingly returned the hug, patting the boy on the back, then released him to stand back up.  Jack scrambled back over to the box where he'd sat with Stacy.  The leggy diva picked him up and sat him down on it, watching with misty eyes as he tucked Doc the Bear into the crook of his arm, and set about reading bits of the book to the stuffed toy, pointing out all of the colorful cartoons.

"That was very sweet, Mick.  Thank you," Nan murmured.

"Oh, no problem, Nan."  He watched the child for a moment, then added.  "Makes you think he's never been given a present before, doesn't it?"

"It does make you wonder, " Stacy agreed.

He looked back over to Stacy.  "How's John?"

She beamed up at the Hardcore Legend.  "Wonderf–"

"Oh, isn't this just too great!"  A saccharine voice said.  They looked up to see Trish coming out of the Diva locker room.  "The loser diva and all of her loser friends!"

Nan started forward, fearing Jack would lash out at her like he did Randy in the Cena's basement, but she never reached him.  Before anyone of them could say anything, the little boy stunned them all.  "Mith Trithh?"

Trish turned her brown eyes on a blonde haired little boy she'd missed seeing when she came out.  "Yeah?"

He widened his eyes, and gave a shy smile.  "You really did good tonight."

Blinking at the unexpected praise, she stammered, "Thank you…uhm…"

"Jack." He announced, then gave a sly grin.  "An' you look purdy too."

"Well aren't you sweet!"  Trish gave a dazzling smile.

Jack's eyes drifted downward to land on the black ribbon from Stacy's ponytail that Trish still had clasped in her fingers.  "You gonna keep that?"

Trish threw a nasty smile at Stacy where she stood scowling.  "Tell you what, little man.  You keep it as a souvenir.  From the Women's Champion."  She handed the ribbon over to him.

"Ha!  Big ole thupid-head!"  He pronounced, jerking the ribbon from her fingers with an audible zip.  He passed it back to Stacy.  "Here ya go, Aunt Thkye!  I got your ribbon back for ya!"

"My hero!"  Laughing, Stacy took it, tied it back around her ponytail, and kissed Jack's cheek. 

Trish's mouth dropped open at being so obviously played by a six-year old.  "Why you miserable little –"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever.  Keep walking," Jack muttered, his face drawn down into a familiar scowl.  A perfect mirror on a child's face of Triple H's patented sneer.

Her pleasant smile long gone, the blonde screeched, "Where's your parents?!  I'll have you thrown out –"

Nan stepped forward, "He's with me, Trish."

The Women's Champ turned outraged eyes on Nan.  "Are you going to let him talk to me that way?!"

The redhead pursed her lips, with narrowed eyes and nodded, surprising her friends.  "You're right, Trish."  She turned to Jack with a stern look in her eyes.  "Jack?"

His triumph bled off his face and he answered lowly, "Yeth ma'am?"

"Remember the conversation we had about not talking to strangers?"

Jack's shoulders slumped a little.  "Yeth ma'am."

"Well, there's someone else we need to add to that.  You don't talk to nasty women either, okay punkin'?"

He looked up at her, then at Trish's furious countenance, and grinned brightly sitting up, realizing he wasn't going to be punished for what he'd done.

Trish leaned in and hissed into Nan's face, "You're one to talk about nasty – "

Mick stepped forward and spoke softly, but with a hint of steel in his eyes.  "I think it'd be best if you just left now, Trish."

Her own orbs snapping angrily, she snarled, "Fine.  But this isn't finished, Nan."  She whirled around and stomped away.

Nan sighed.  "It never is with you, Trish."

"Na-na-na-na!  Na-na-na-na!  Hey hey hey!  Good bye!"  Jack cackled at the retreating form of the Women's Champion.

Mick laughingly whispered to Nan, "He may not be Triple H's son, but he sure acts like him.  That was another Cerebral Assassin in the making if I've ever seen it."  He grinned at Stacy and Nan.  "I'd better be going.  You ladies take care." 

He held out a palm to Jack.  "Catch you around Jack."

Jack slapped the outstretched hand, and yelled, "Bang-bang!"

"Yep.  Getting him started out right!"  The corridor rang with Mick's laughter as he walked away.

Nan settled down beside the boy.  "Now, about what you said to Trish." 

"I'm in trouble, ain't I?"  He whispered dejectedly, slumping in again.

"Aren't I," she corrected automatically.

"Aren't I," he whispered just barely.

"No, you're not in trouble.  Not really.  I just want you to understand something." 

He looked back up at her.  "What?"

"Getting your Aunt Skye's ribbon back for her was a very nice thing to do.  But I didn't like what you called her or what you said after you had the ribbon.  All the stuff before that was just fine."

"I thought you wasn't mad."

"Weren't mad," she repeated.

"Weren't mad," he parroted back.

"I'm not mad, punkin'.  I just didn't want to say anything in front of Trish."  She looked down at the little boy, looking so sad.  She could have left it alone, but his safety backstage depended upon his behavior.  And he had to get this now.  "Jack, I don't want you talking to any adult that way.  Not strangers, not nasty women, or men.  Not any adult.  You feel like you have to talk that way to a grown-up and you come get me or Mister Hunter.  We clear?"

He nodded straightening up again.  "Yeth, ma'am."

She wrapped an arm around him and gave him a squeeze.  "Come on, punkin'," Nan started.  "Say good-bye to Aunt Skye so she can get changed and get back to Boston."

"You gonna go thee the Doctor of Thugamickth?"  At her nod, Jack looked up at Stacy.  "Will you tell him thomething for me?"

"Sure baby.  What is it?"

He curled his finger so she'd bend down.  "Thith!"  And he blew a loud raspberry on her cheek.

Laughing, Stacy vowed to deliver the exact message, kissed the little boy on the head, hugged her friend, and disappeared into the depths of the Diva's locker room.

Nan and Jack ambled down the hallway, intending to go back to their seats, when the door to Evolution's dressing room opened, and Hunter stuck his head out.  "I thought I heard your voices out here."

"Mither Hunter!  Look what Mick gave me!"  He presented his book as Hunter swung him up into his arms.

"Very nice of him.  You told him thank you, right?" 

"Yuh-huh!  Bang bang!"  Jack peered over Hunter's shoulder and spotted the other Evolution members.  "Hey Ric!  Hey Dave!"  The two men came out and exchanged greetings with the child. 

Hunter motioned to the security guard that was standing sentry outside of the dressing room.  When the large brown-haired man came over, Hunter turned to Nan.  "Baby, this is Dennis Oswald.  Dennis, Nan Elliott."

"Nice to meet you."  Nan smiled, shaking his hand.

"Miss Elliott," He didn't smile, but did nod his head.

Hunter braced his shoulders, for the fight he knew was coming.  "Nan, Dennis is going to be your shadow while you're here tonight."

A fire lit behind her eyes.  "Why."  She asked belligerently.

He glanced over at Jack, playing his trump card early.  "That tabloid.  His face was plastered all over it.  I'll be more comfortable if you've got protection while you're mingling among the fans.  Okay?"

Nan stared up at the man.  He was big, but not in a beefy sort of way.  More lean muscle and quick speed.  He didn't have on a WWE security T-shirt like all the others, but he wore a black suit, with white shirt.  He had a craggy face in a nondescript kind of way.  She'd love to have known the color of his eyes, but they were hidden behind black sunglasses.  There was a microphone on his shoulder, and she'd been around cops too long not to notice the bulge under his left arm for what it was. 

Gun. 

This guy screamed bodyguard, or FBI, though she seriously doubted the latter.  Although, he did have a military stance about him.  He could have been ex-FBI, CIA, or some other branch of the military.  She'd not put it past Hunter to hire that type.  No, he was definitely a bodyguard and not the typical rent-a-cop kind either.  This guy was a professional.  Something had Hunter spooked, and badly for him to hire a bodyguard.

She looked over at her fiancé, and seeing the set of his jaw, she knew she'd get no answers from him until he was ready to share them.  But she was a fairly patient woman.  She could wait.  "Okay."

Hunter blinked.  "Okay?  That's it?"

She nodded, and turned back to the bodyguard.  "You don't look like a Dennis.  Doesn't suit you.  You got a nickname?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Lemme guess.  Oz?"

The big man nodded just once.  "Yes ma'am."  At the sparkle in her eyes, he added.  "No relation."

Nan grinned.  "A sense of humor as well as intelligent and deadly.  I like that.  Okay…Oz it is then.  You need to meet Jack."

"Yes ma'am."

Nan turned to make the introductions, not at all surprised to see Jack hide his face behind Hunter's neck.  While she smoothed it over and made Jack understand that he was a good guy, Hunter watched.  He hated having to do this.  But he couldn't take the chance of anything happening while she was out there in the arena and he was back stage.

Slowly Jack was coming around, but he peered down the hallway and immediately the tentative smile was gone, and his face started turning red.

Seeing the change in the little boy, Hunter looked around and saw Randy Orton headed down the corridor.  He passed Jack to Dave.  "Dave, uh, take him inside for a minute."

Seeing Randy, and knowing what had happened in West Newbury, he nodded, plucking Jack from Hunter's arms and taking him inside the dressing room.  He looked at Nan.  "You coming?"

"Not on your life.  I'm not missing this." 

Dave grinned at her and shut the door, leaving them in the hallway.

"Lookee what we've got here!  The Heavyweight Champ…and his pet ass-kisser!"  Randy smirked.

That was all the opening Hunter needed.  He spun away from Nan and Ric, and body checked Randy up against the wall.  As fast as he'd moved, Oz was faster, putting himself between Nan and any threat of danger.  She poked him in the back.  "Hey!  I can't see!"

She thought she heard a chuckle, but the big man stayed in place.  Rather, he lifted an arm so Nan could peep through the opening.  Hunter had Randy pinned to the wall, his forearm against the younger man's throat.  And he was snarling in his face.

"I warned you, you punk bitch!  I told you what would happen if I ever caught wind of you doing anything against my family, didn't I?  And yet you go and intentionally hurt her in the Cena's basement!  What's the matter, Randy?  You afraid to take me on again, so you go behind my back and hurt the woman I'm gonna marry and scare the hell out of a helpless little boy?!"

 "Hey, man, that was an accident!  That was before you gave me that warning!  I didn't know she was already hurt!"  Randy yelled pushing Hunter off his throat.  "And that little boy is about as helpless as a porcupine in a nudist colony!"

"I don't give a goddamn!  You stay away from her!  You stay away from Jack!  Or so help me God, I'll break every goddamn bone in your fuckin' body!  Your roll will be real clear!  You'll be my bitch!  You understand me, Orton?!"

"Oz, come on.  He's not gonna do anything.  Let me out."

"No ma'am."

"Champ!  Champ!  Not here, Hunter.  Come on," Ric placated, shoving his way in between the two men.

"You."  Randy glared down at Nan where she was half-hidden behind Oz, no longer concealing his animosity towards the redhead.  "You knew that was an accident!"

At the hostile tone in Randy's voice, Oz took a step forward.  It was just the chance she'd been waiting for.  Nan slid out from behind the bodyguard, looked up at the so-called Legend Killer, and smirked.  But she kept silent.

"And you know I wouldn't hurt Jack!"

She cocked an eyebrow at him, a wicked smile playing at the corners of her mouth.  "Do I?"

"You bitch."  Randy's face drew up into a mask of hatred.

He took another step forward and found himself face to face with a wall of lethal force barely contained.  He looked up into a pair of black sunglasses.  "Move along, sir."

Randy swallowed hard, but held his ground.

Hunter stepped up and shoved against Randy's shoulder, making the young superstar stumble.  He snarled, "You heard the man.  Back off, Orton."

"You wanna take me on, Hunter?  Don't hide behind your hired goon!  Come on, Champ!  Right here!  Right now!"

"We'll have our day, Orton.  Count on it!"  Hunter flared back.

Growing tired of Randy's presence, Nan muttered deadpan, "Oh Hunter.  Kill him.  Make the bad baby-face go away."

Ric grinned, showing lots of teeth.  "That's my job tonight, Sunshine." 

~<>~

You have to stand your ground when someone's standing in your way
You have to be a stronger man, each and every day
       No Holes Barred – WWE Anthology

October 19, 2004 8:46 p.m. CST
Evolution's Dressing Room – Taboo Tuesday – Bradley Center – Milwaukee, WI 

"Strategy?  What's strategy, huh?"  Hunter sneered at Josh Matthews.  "You don't have strategy in an event like this.  Taboo Tuesday – this whole thing with Internet voting – is a bunch of crap!  You don't have strategy when you don't know who your opponent is.  And as far as Shawn Michaels' injury goes…are you buying that, huh?  You really believe Shawn Michaels is hurt?  Because I don't.  I've known Shawn Michaels for ten years.  I know him better than he knows himself and he's full of crap.  Shawn Michaels is gonna talk to that ring tonight hoping that I think he's hurt and that I let my guard down so he can score an easy victory." 

Hunter shook his head just barely.  "It's not gonna happen.  Shawn Michaels might be telling the world that his leg is broken.  Well if it's not?  It's gonna be by the end of the night." 

He pointed at Matthews.  "You count on one thing.  You count on the fact that I will would out of here tonight as the World Heavyweight Champion."

His voice dipped down into the lower depths of his customary growl.  "Now get outta here.  I got some thinkin' to do."

Hunter waited until Matthews had gone, continuing to pace in his dressing room.  Finally he stopped, placed a hand on his hip, and muttered, "Damnit.  I gotta talk him out of this."

He wrenched open the door with an almost explosive force and strode off down the hall, snarling at anyone who got in his way, in search of The Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels. 

~<>~

Most people only know the easy way, they'll always close their eyes
Will make the same excuses, will you buy into their lies?
What will you do, what are you born to say?
Will you measure up...when people make it so hard
       No Holes Barred – WWE Anthology

October 19, 2004 8:49 p.m. CST
Concessions – Taboo Tuesday – Bradley Center – Milwaukee, WI 

"See anything else you like, punkin'?"  With Jack perched on her hip, one hand twisting into her hair, stroking it across his palm like he would a security blanket, the little boy's eyes widened on the treasure trove of WWE merchandise and paraphernalia.  Nan had decided to take him to the souvenir stand after Hunter's promo had aired, not really wanting to watch the lingerie pillow fight between Carmella and Christy.  And she hadn't wanted Jack to see it either.  The less exposure the child had to Hemme, the better off he was.  No need in scarring the boy for life, right?

"Yuh-huh," the little boy nodded vigorously.  He pointed at the inflatable sledgehammer hanging overhead.  "I like that."  Then his eyes lit up even further.  "Oooh!  Thocko!"

Grinning, she told the man behind the counter.  "A hammer, a child's HBK T-shirt, and a Mr. Socko, please."  She passed him her credit card, waiting as he rang it up. 

"Mith Nan?  Ith Mither Hunter mad at you?"  Jack spoke up as the man behind the booth gave her the card and slip to sign, and handed her a WWE Shopzone bag with her purchases in it.  She opened it and slid in the book that Mick had given to Jack a few moments earlier.

Quickly following his eyes, she spotted the Triple H T-shirt displayed on the wall with the other shirts.  It was the new one with the four-point 'H' iron cross and the longhaired redheaded skull on the front.  She looked at Jack, seeing his head tilted to the side, staring alternately between the shirt and her hair.  Between that and the corresponding motions his hand had on the lock of her hair still wrapped in his fist, Nan's laughter rang out.

"Miss Elliott, we need to be moving along.  I don't like how close these people are," the security guard spoke lowly to her from his position to her right. 

"In a minute, Oz."  Nan nodded, irritated at the comment of the man whose presence she hadn't wanted.  But a loud comment somewhere behind her made her change her mind.

"Hey!  Isn't that Triple H's kid?!"

The voice was unknown, but others quickly took up the cry.  "Yeah!  I saw them on the cover of the Tattler!"

"What's your name, kid?!"

"What's it like to have Triple H as your daddy, little boy?!"

For some unknown reason, Nan looked up and right into the eyes of a blonde haired man she'd never seen before, about fifteen people back.  He was staring at her and Jack with a smirk of knowledge in those icy blue-green eyes.  And she knew he'd been the one to ask that last question.

It took only a split second for those fans further back from the ones asking the questions to hear Triple H and start up chants.  "Asshole!  Asshole!  Asshole!"

Jack screwed up his face, trying to block out the noise by coving his ears.  When that didn't work, he wrapped both arms around Nan's neck, burying his face into her hair, with Doc the Bear dangling down behind her.

Oz put his hand on the small of Nan's back and began to propel them away from started away from the souvenir stand.  He punched the button on the microphone on his shoulder.  "I need back up on level one stand 2B, now!"

She heard the rapid tattoo of running feet on the tiled floor and suddenly WWE security was everywhere, taking almost no time at all to answer Oz' call.  When one of the fans reached out to touch Nan, the hapless man found himself face down on the floor, with two other security guards on his back while four more waded into the crowd and cleared a path so Oz, Nan and Jack could get out unmolested.  Once they were clear of that group, and moving back towards the entrance to the actual arena, she slowed her steps, reaching out to touch Oz' elbow, getting him to slow as well.

"You okay, punkin'?" she asked, slightly winded at what almost had happened.

The child in her arms nodded, but refused to lift his head.  She rubbed his back and looked up at the security guard.  "Thank you, Oz," Nan murmured softly, trying not to show how much the questions and near riot had spooked her, now grateful for his presence.

The big man nodded at her, his scowl barely curving up at the corners.  It was close enough to a smile for her.  "No problem, Miss Elliott."  He turned those black sunglasses back to the crowd, scanning faces, as he turned the corner past a concession stand.

She and Jack followed in the wake behind Oz, as he continued to plow through the throng of bodies around them and back to their seats.  But Nan couldn't get the face of the stranger out of her mind, and wondered if he were the reason Hunter had insisted upon a bodyguard for her, and infinitely grateful that he had. 

~<>~

I look at you and see what you've been through, and it's all because of me
Brother you know you make me proud, you gave me something to believe,
But it's my turn now, I won't let you down,
Gonna make things right, turn it all around
Love goes far...when it's no holds barred...
       No Holes Barred – WWE Anthology

October 19, 2004 9:26 p.m. CST
Front Row Ringside – Taboo Tuesday – Bradley Center – Milwaukee, WI 

She couldn't believe what she had seen.  Batista had raced down to ringside, to take out Shawn when Hunter was down, but had gotten himself a taste of HBK's fist, knocking the bigger man off the ring apron. Then Hunter had walked right into some Sweet Chin Music, and he'd gone down backwards.  Hard.  Sending spittle and sweat upward in a miniature version of the water spray he always did in his entrance.  That, she could believe.  But what threw her was when, right before Shawn could get the cover and take the belt, Edge had come out of no where and speared Shawn nearly through the mat.  Hunter was able to crawl over to him and capture the pin.

One.  Two.  Three. 

Then Lillian's voice had rung out.  "Your winner and still Heavyweight Champion, Triple H!"

The Game's music played loudly over the speakers while the audience cheered and booed…more heavily on the booing side, though.  And Batista helped Hunter up the ramp towards the back, while the Titan Tron replayed the last few minutes of the match for the crowd watching at home.

Hunter had paused only for a moment when he and Dave passed by.  Long enough to motion at Shawn then at her.  She caught his meaning, almost hearing his voice in her head.  Stay here until Shawn gets up, then come back.  She did exactly that.  Shawn was helped to his feet by two referees and Brannon, their trainer.  He winked at Jack as they helped him up the ramp.

"You staying for Ric and Orton's match?"  Rosie asked her as she gathered her own purse.

"No," Nan murmured.  "I don't think he needs to see that."

Rosie nodded and glanced down at Jack who was still watching Shawn – silent and still, just as Rosie had predicted earlier – as he went up the ramp and through the curtain.  "Jackie, you okay?"

He nodded slowly at her question, then turned troubled eyes on Nan.  "I wanna go thee Unca Thhawn."

She took a deep breath and looked over at the security guard.  "Oz?"

"Right this way, Miss Elliott."

Ten minutes later Nan and Jack were backstage once again, and Rosie had gone off to find Chris.  This time they waited outside of the male communal dressing room, waiting for Shawn to come out.  But he had yet to make an appearance, and Jack was getting antsy.

"When'th he gonna come out, Mith Nan?"

She ran a hand over his head.  "I don't know, punkin'.  He's probably in the shower.  It might be a minute or two."

Jack's eyes clouded over, not liking that answer, and he set about kicking his feet against the equipment box upon which he sat.  Not in a display of temper, but more in just a rhythmic thumping noise.

"Miss Elliott," Oz called her attention, then nodded his head down the direction of the corridor. 

Nan turned to see Hunter and Dave headed her way.  She stood up and walked a few steps in Hunter's direction, and right into his embrace.  She wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her cheek on his chest, and hugged him tightly.

"I thought you were coming back."

She answered without moving.  "Jack's worried about Shawn, and he wanted to see him.  But Shawn's not coming out."

"Dave," Hunter turned his head to the bigger man.  "You mind?"

He nodded.  "Sure thing."  Dave walked over to where Jack sat.  "Hey there, Jack."

Jack had his chin propped in his fists and elbows planted on his knees.  He didn't even look up.  "Hey Dave."

Dave's eyebrows shot up.  "Not even gonna ask how I'm doin'?"

Jack looked up at that and cocked his head sideways.  "Nah.  Mither Hunter thayth you've got a hard head, tho I know you're okay.  You thhoulda gotten to fight Unca Chrith for that pretty belt though."

Ah, the innocence of children, Dave thought laughing aloud.  You could always count on them for telling what they perceived as the truth, no matter how brutal.  Hard head, huh?  He'd have to file that one away for later.  "You sound pretty down, kiddo."

The little boy bit down on his lip and jutted his jaw out stubbornly.  "I wanna go thee Unca Thhawn."

"You do?"  Dave said with an exaggerated smile.  At Jack's vigorous nod, he added, "Well let's go then."

Hunter watched Dave as he picked Jack up and carried him inside the locker room, leaving the door open since everyone had already cleared out.  Only Ric and Randy were left, and they were in the ring.  And he really didn't want Jack back there when they came back, expecting them both to be covered in blood.

Shawn was sitting on a folding chair, draped in only a towel, with a big ice pack on his knee.  He was holding his head in his hand, bending over slightly.  He looked up when the door opened, his face contorted in a grimace of pain that quickly smoothed over into a slight smile as he spied Dave carrying Jack inside. 

"Got a visitor for you, HBK."  Dave announced, setting Jack down on the bench beside Shawn's chair.

"Unca Thhawn?"  Jack said timidly.

Shawn's smile grew as he held out an arm to the little boy.  Jack stood up on the bench and carefully wrapped his arms around Shawn's neck, hugging him.  Hunter felt a sharp kick in his chest.

And Nan was still clinging to him like a barnacle.  Then he felt the tremors.  "Baby, you're trembling.  What's happened?"

She mumbled something about a crowd and some comments.  Hunter looked up and motioned for Oz to come over.  "Talk to me."

"There was an incident at the souvenir stand, Mr. Helmsley."

Hunter listened with growing trepidation and anger as the security guard explained what had taken place.  Once the security guard finished his report, Hunter nodded.  "You're assigned to her whenever she's at a WWE event until further notice.  Whether I'm around or not.  Got me?"

"Yes sir."  He moved back to his position against the wall, where he could see anyone coming near them from any direction.

"Hunter," Nan whispered, tilting her head back to look up at him.  "There was a man…staring at me and jack…like he knew us or something."  She then filled him in on what she'd seen, and what she thought he'd said.  "Are you getting death threats again?"

"No, baby.  At least, not anywhere outside the ring.  He's probably just a rabid wrestling fan.  You know how crazy they can get."

She sighed, and laid her cheek back down on his chest.  "Yeah, they're a weird bunch sometimes."

He tightened his grip on her, holding her close, and gritted his teeth.  Only one person he knew fit that description.  Could it have been him?  Or was it just another nutzoid out there who just had a deep and abiding hatred for Triple H?  Damnit, but he needed to be sure.  He couldn't afford to take any chances here. 

Hunter glanced up and into the open door of the locker room where he could see Jack now sitting on the bench beside Shawn, raptly listening to whatever Heartbreak and Dave were telling him. 

As if feeling Hunter's eyes on him, Shawn looked up and caught his friend's stare.  Hunter pulled one hand away from the woman wrapped around him and pointed first at Shawn, then at himself, and lastly mimed the motion for talking.  Shawn's cobalt eyes dipped downward to Jack then raised slowly to meet Hunter's, his pained expression melting away into a blank mask, his eyes burning hotly in the center.

He nodded. 

~<>~

Everybody knows everybody,
Everybody calls you friend.
You don’t need an invitation,
Kick off your shoes, come on in
Yeah, we know how to work and we know how to play
We’re from the country and we like it that way
       I'm From The Country – Tracy Byrd

October 20, 2004 3.23 p.m. EST
Lyons Ridge Road – Moccasin Gap, NC 

"Are we there yet?" a small voice piped up from the back seat of the SUV Hunter and Nan had rented at the Charlotte airport for the duration of their stay in Moccasin Gap.

Hunter's face automatically split into a wide grin at the question as his fiancée answered, "Almost, punkin'.  Just a few more minutes and we'll be at Miss Millie's house."

"That'th where you lived when you lived in Moccathin Gap, right?"

Nan's dark eyes flicked upwards to look into the mirror over the visor she'd pulled down to ward off the sun beating down through the windshield.  She met Jack's curious eyes and smiled.  "Sure was.  In the old carriage house."

"Are we gonna thtay there thith time?"

"Yup," she answered, tossing a loving look over at the man behind the wheel.  "But Angela and Ramón have asked if you'd be interested having a sleep-over with Pepito tomorrow night.  Some of their friends and children are getting together for una fiesta en la calle.  And they thought you'd like to go with them."

"Watth that mean…oonah fee-estah en lah kai-dyay?"  Jack asked, struggling with the foreign words.

"It means a street party."

Jack's brow wrinkled in thought.  "I'm not thuppothed ta play in the thtreet."

Nan couldn't help but laugh.  "It's not actually in the street, punkin'.  That just means the whole neighborhood is invited.  Everyone who lives on their street.  See?"

The little boy nodded.  "Will you an' Mither Hunter be there too?"

Hunter and Nan exchanged a glance.  "No, sport.  I'm taking Miss Nan to a fancy restaurant for dinner," Hunter answered.  He glanced in the rearview mirror and caught the troubled look on the little boy's face at this news.  "Tell you what, sport.  You go with Aunt Angela and Uncle Ramón to their party and we'll stop by after dinner and check up on you.  If you want to stay the night, then you can.  If not, you can come back with us.  Sound good?"

Jack visibly relaxed and smiled.  "Okay."

At the grateful look Nan tossed his way, Hunter grinned.  "What are they celebrating this time?"

"Ocho's new baby," Nan said, referring to her brother-in-law's youngest brother.

"How many does that make for him and Pilar?"

"Five…and all of them under ten years old."

Hunter whistled lowly as he slowed the vehicle, signaled for a left turn and pulled the SUV into the long winding driveway that would take them to Miss Millie's house.  "Think he's living up to his nickname?" he asked, referring to the odd moniker Ramón had tagged him with as a child…ocho…meaning eight.

Nan giggled.  "Could be."

They all fell silent, as Hunter maneuvered the sports utility vehicle down the paved drive, marveling at the brilliant fall colors.  It was almost as if the trees and woods on Miss Millie's property were on fire.  He could easily count red, orange, and yellow maples.  Splashes of deep gold beeches filtered through, countered by the blood red dogwoods, rusty oaks, and the even more rare purple-gold leaves of the sycamore.  All of that glorious color was dotted every so often by evergreens.  He spotted Frasier and Douglas furs, cedars, pine, and…as they made the curve around that monstrous oak tree in the bend…Hunter's personal favorite on this property, the two ancient Southern Magnolias that stood at least eighty feet tall, silently guarding over the house.

As he parked the car on the slab near Nan's former residence and opened the door, he couldn't help but pause and take a deep breath, the scent of October in North Carolina lingering heavily in the air.  It was a mixture of burning leaves, the faint tint of magnolia blooms that had yet to fall, and pine, with a deeper heat and a hint of crisp air to come.  Autumn in New England was always beautiful, but this…this was spectacular.  While Nan helped Jack from the car, Hunter ditched the bomber jacket he'd worn on the flight down.  Evidently Moccasin Gap was in the height of an Indian Summer, as the temperature had to be at least above seventy degrees.

"Leave the bags," he instructed.  "I'll get them later.  Let's go see Miss Millie first."  He bent over and scooped up Jack, bear and all, while Nan tended to Dixie, unleashing her to run around in the yard.

"Hunter," Nan looked at him with narrowed eyes as they made their way through the break in the boxwoods.  She spotted a car she didn't recognize as belonging to Miss Millie.  "What are you up to?"

"Moi?  Up to something?  Now why should you think that?" he teased back at her, his eyes wide in false innocence.

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured, climbing the stairs that led up to the back porch, and knocked on the door.  "Dixie!  Come!" she called to the little dachshund that was happily chasing away a covey of quail that she'd flushed from underneath a red-tip bush.

While they waited for Miss Millie to answer the knock, Hunter took a really good look at the house, still amazed at how wrong he'd been about the size of the place the first time he'd been there.  He couldn't believe that he'd ever thought it to be just big.  The place was huge.  And it wasn't two stories either.  Well, there were at least two stories above ground. 

But he'd forgotten the fact that to even get to the first floor you had to go up a full flight of stairs, in both the front and back.  There was a full basement half underground that ran the length and width of the house, he noted, looking down at the half-flight of steps that led to the bricked cellar, as Miss Millie called it.  Hell, he'd never seen a cellar that big.  A family of four could easily live in the damn thing.  That wasn't all though.  A complete attic topped the second floor, easily disguised by the architecture of the house.  And that curved spire he'd first spotted two years ago?  An enclosed widows walk…although why the house had a widow's walk so far away from the ocean, he'd never understand.  The back door was thrown open, jarring Hunter from his musings about the house.

"Sally!  Game!  'Bout damn time you got here!"  Miss Millie Lauder cackled as she spotted the little boy perched happily on Hunter's hip.  She held out her palm to him.  "What say there, Anitsasgili?  Slip me some skin!"

Giggling, the little boy slapped the old lady's palm as he always did whenever she used that special nickname she's thought up just for him.  As he passed by her when Hunter, Nan, and Dixie moved into the house and then further into the kitchen, he asked.  "Mith Millie…where'th Luthifer?  Can I play with him?"

"Sure thing, honey," Millie smiled fondly down at him.  "Just make sure that he and Dixie don't tangle again."  She looked up at Nan and winked broadly.  "Don't think old the devil can handle having his pride humbled at being beaten up by a dog again."

Hunter set Jack on his feet and instructed, "Stay in the house, and don't go upstairs without telling us, understand?"

Jack's eyes darted downward to where his knee was still bandaged from his last unsanctioned trip upstairs in another house a few days ago.  The stitches had come out, but Miss Nan said to keep it bandaged for the next few days.  But he was proud of the scar that now matched the one on Mister Hunter's left knee, so keeping it covered was a task in itself.  Either way, though, it had hurt, and he didn't want do to that again.  So he nodded and answered, "Okay, I promith."

With a ruffle to the child's hair, Hunter watched as the little boy bolted out of the door that led into the long main hallway that bisected the house, calling out for that devilish feline, with Dixie fast on his heels.

"Suits you."  Miss Millie commented absently.

"What does?"

Her black eyes snapped with hidden knowledge.  "That contented look of fatherhood."

Hunter just grinned at her, but it was Nan's quiet voice that got their attention.  "He's not ours, Miss Millie."

"I know that, Sally girl.  But it takes more than biology to make good parents."  She looked over at Hunter and they shared a secret smile.  "Ready to get this show on the road, Game?"

"Okay, what gives?"  Nan asked, forestalling Hunter's answer.  "You've been acting awfully suspicious since we got on the plane this morning.  You wouldn't even let me go see my folks before we got here, and now," she turned on Miss Millie with a glare.  "He's got you in on whatever he's got cookin'."

The two co-conspirators shared another grin and Hunter tipped his head back, "If ya sm– "

"Don't…you dare!"

Millie's sinister sounding cackle filled the room.  "Okay, Sally, okay.  Just go on into the butler's pantry and all will be revealed, I promise."

Nan glared at Hunter.

"Come on, baby.  Let us have our fun."  Hunter stepped up beside her and kissed her forehead.

Throwing up her hands, Nan capitulated, knowing she'd get no further information if she didn't, and took the opposite route as Jack had taken, and pushed open the swinging door that led into the butler's pantry.

As the door swung closed behind them, and Millie heard the echoing screech from Nan as she discovered the owners of the unknown car in the driveway, the older lady clucked to herself, her grin as broad as could be.  She picked up a tray laden with apple cider and cups, then turned to join the young folks. 

She stopped in just before going through the door, and glanced upward to a far corner of the kitchen ceiling.  "Yeah, he may not be your child yet, Sally.  But he will be."  She paused for a minute, as if she were listening to something, then nodded.  Laughing to herself, she walked through the swinging door into the butler's pantry. 

+++++ 

"Jedi?!"  Nan screeched upon reaching the room and seeing her old friend and lawyer sitting at the butler's pantry table. 

"Hey, Crusher."  Her longtime friend answered.

Her head swiveled to the petite brunette beside him and the stack of papers on the table between them.  "Denise?  What're you doing here?"

But Denise Flynn only smiled and shrugged a slim shoulder.

Hunter held out a chair for her and she took a seat just as Miss Millie came into the room bearing her famous apple cider.

Nan turned on the older lady.  "What's going on?!"

"Well, Sally, it's like this," Millie began as she poured out cups of her cider and began passing them around.  "I'm gettin' too old for these cold winters, and this old place is just too much for me.  I've decided to move to Florida."

Nan blinked, unable to process what she was hearing.  Miss Millie Lauder was a staple in Moccasin Gap.  She couldn't be leaving.  "What about the shop?" she asked, referring to Lauder's Florist downtown that Miss Millie had owned and run long before she'd even been born.

"Selling it to Kimberly.  She's been really running it for a while now.  Besides, she loves that place."

"And Genie?"

Millie shrugged as she took a seat at the table.  "She hates flowers, you know that.  And this old place too, if you recall."

Nan nodded sadly, remembering how much Genie detested the house she'd lived in since she was a teenager.  She had always thought her friend was a bit nuts for saying the old Southern home gave her the creeps.  "So you're selling it," she sighed, a bit dejected.

She felt her heart give a twist.  She couldn't stand the thought of coming back home and not being able to come and go here as she pleased.  "Well, Jedi's the best lawyer in Moccasin Gap.  He'll do you right."

"I'm not worried about him doing me right,"  Miss Millie's eyes sparkled.  "I changed that boy's diapers.  And kept the pictures.  I know he'll not cross me.  Will ya Jedediah?"

Jedi's mouth twitched.  "No ma'am."

Millie nodded sharply.  "And I'm not too concerned with what the new owners will do to the place, although I understand there'll be a bit of construction before they're ready to take up residence."

Feeling like she was losing a bit of her childhood, Nan put on a brave face, and forced a smile.  "So who's buying it?  Anyone I know?"

The old lady's grin grew brilliant.  "Oh, I think you know them pretty well."

Jedi slid a paper over in front of Nan.  Reading the top she spotted the address, which she recognized as Miss Millie's…then scanned down to the original name of the once great house and surrounding lands…Lyons Cove.  That brought a smile to her face.  Then she looked down a little further, and felt her stomach drop to her feet.  It was a deed.  With her name on it.  Her name.  Only.

She looked up at Hunter, her eyes wide and luminous.  "Hunter?"

He smiled tenderly at her.  "Happy Birthday, baby.  Welcome home." 

~<>~

Grand slam, your moment's at hand, the day holds a costly bargain
Lost lamb asking the lion's share
Homespun, a prodigal son, comes begging a humble pardon
But no one rises to hear his prayer
Lone star, you've wandered so far and long in the unfamiliar
That now you travel a map unknown
Starbright, a constant delight to those in the dark
And still your birthright's to shine in the night alone
       The Lion's Share – Dan Fogleburg

October 20, 2004 5:03 p.m. EST
Lyons Cove – Main Hallway – Moccasin Gap, NC 

Surprises never were high on Hunter's list of his most favored things.  And he definitely didn't like spending his day getting one major shock after another.  But evidently the fates had other ideas, he thought dazedly as he followed Jedi, his lovely wife Denise, Miss Millie, and his own fiancée through the home he'd just bought.  They'd just bought, he corrected himself, even though Nan's name was the only one on the deed.

He'd known Miss Millie Lauder for as long as he'd been coming to the quaint little town of Moccasin Gap.  Three years this coming March.  And in all that time, he'd never gone farther into her home than the kitchen or butler's pantry.  He'd known the house was big by today's standards and the remaining lands attached extensive.  But nothing had prepared him for this.

The place is a friggin' museum.  Or should be, he thought, trailing along behind the group as they roamed from floor to floor, room to room.

When Jedi had said he'd wanted to give them a top-to-bottom run-through, he hadn't been kidding.  He'd trudged them out of the butler's pantry, into the hallway and up the biggest staircase Hunter had ever seen, outside of a movie set.  Only at Nan's insistence did he give them any time to look around.  Hunter's eyes grew wider every time they opened yet another pocket door.  Nine rooms, five on one side of the hallway, and four on the other.  One side held the kitchen, a butler's pantry that Hunter had always thought was the dining room, a dining room that could easily hold twenty to twenty-five people, and two other rooms, that when the pocket doors were completely opened, made up what he could only be described as a ballroom.  An overly large bedroom  – which Miss Millie informed them had once been a sitting room – complete with a master bath, a small library, a gentleman's study, and a lady's parlor made up one side.  And there was even another half-bath under the stairs.

Strangely enough, for a house that spent several decades shut off, it was in relatively good shape.  He did see, however, a small hole on the wall near the banister at the base of the stairs, and made a mental note to have it repaired.

Jedi led them up the grand staircase, down the balustrade that circled the entire floor, to the attic door.  From there they transversed the attic to the Southwest corner and climbed a wooden spiral staircase that led up to the widow's walk on the roof.

It was from that lofty perch that Hunter realized this widow's walk wasn't just a lovely topper to an already breathtaking architectural masterpiece.  No, this one had a purpose.  Standing there in the glow of warm sunlight, he was almost blinded by the spray of diamonds dancing off the surface of possibly the clearest lake he'd ever seen.

This was a lakefront home.  A large lake, fed by a natural river on its way to the ocean.  And he'd never known.  No way he could have really.  From where he stood, he could see the pathway that cut through a row of cedar trees, behind the two other buildings on the property.  That path wound down to the stairs built on a gentle slope of land leading to a set of wooden stairs, and an unimpeded view of the lake beyond.  Never having gone past the row of trees on any previous visit, he'd never seen, nor knew, of the massive body of water behind the house.

He barely registered Jedi's explanation that the house sat on twenty-seven acres of land in the middle of the lower U-shaped cove of Lake Shaconage.  Once the entire acreage of Lyons Cove had belonged to the plantation's original owners, but parcels, two precisely, had been sold off years ago, to help support the family living in the home.  He vaguely noted that they had two neighbors, one on either side of the cove's crab-craw-like peninsulas, and thought he heard Jedi say the names of the neighbors, but he couldn't retain the words flowing with the effervescence of a babbling brook from his fiancée's attorney.

His eyes, as well as all of his attention were captured by the very modern, but in sore need of a new coat of paint, boathouse that housed two slips and what promised to be a complete studio apartment above.  He grinned, his vision entranced with the thoughts of steering Hunter's Gold all over this lake in the coming months. 

"Jedi," Hunter interrupted.  "How much shorefront?  And depth?"

The young attorney stopped his ongoing litany about the lands, with a knowing grin.  "The depth is a gradual decline that drops off to almost ten feet at the end of the dock.  After that, it runs level for a few yards more, then drops again to about fifty feet.  Plenty of deep water for boating.  Oh, and you've got three hundred and sixty feet of shoreline.  The cove is marked against trespassing and posted as private property.  So you shouldn't have any problems with unwanted boaters this summer.  The other two homes have lake accesses from the other side of the cove.  Basically, Hunter, once you're about fifteen yards past the mouth of the cove, Nan owns it all.  No one you don't expressly want to come in should."

Hunter flashed a feral grin.  "Sweet."

At that point, Jedi led them back down through the house on the tour.  This time though, he'd slowed his pace.  Hunter had been taken aback at the sheer size of the attic.  He'd known it stretched the entire length of the house, but unfettered by walls – only the supporting beams spaced here and there – it was enormous.  Hell, that football game at the Cena's could have taken place here, with plenty of running room.  On his first trek through, he'd seriously considered making his gym up here, but then vetoed that idea knowing that the trek downwards after one of his more vigorous workouts would be a bad idea.  Especially since there was no plumbing in the attic. 

Now, a smaller training ring up here, that thought had merit.  Once they cleaned it up, reinforced the floors, and got rid of whatever Miss Millie didn't want to take with her.  That had been one of the conditions of the sale.  She took what she wanted and left anything else for them to deal with.  Nan had been thrilled, knowing – as did he now that he looked around at the stacks of trunks, boxes, and dusty white sheet draped furniture – that she was bound to find antiques and sentimental treasures up here.

Once on the second floor, they ventured from room to room. These, like the ones on the main floor were also ridiculously large.  But there was something odd about them, that Hunter couldn't put his finger on.  From what he gathered from listening to Jedi and Miss Millie, there had originally been eight rooms up here, just like downstairs.  But two upstairs rooms had been converted into bathrooms – large ones by today's standards – when indoor plumbing had become all the rage.  That still left six very large bedrooms upstairs.  And two of the downstairs rooms had been cut up to form the kitchen and butler's pantry, as well as a half bath, and a full master bath.

Stepping out onto one of the two small private terraces that flanked the front of the house, he figured out what was strange to him about these bedrooms.  There weren't any closets.  Come to think of it, he couldn't remember seeing any downstairs either, except for the small one behind the stairs, and he wasn't positive that really was a closet either.  Then he recalled his history lessons.  There wouldn't be any closets here.  They didn't use them when the house was first constructed.  He toyed briefly with the idea of having them built, but didn't like the way they looked in his mind's eye, and decided to look in to customized armoires.

Shaking his head at the sheerly domesticated ideas floating around in his brain, he followed the group ahead of him back down the staircase to the first floor, while Jack and Dixie took turns chasing each other around and around the balustrade that left the lower floor open below them.

Twenty five thousand square feet, Jedi had said.  He did a mental tally: six bedrooms, four and a half baths, kitchen, butler's pantry, dining room, huge family room, two rooms that could convert into offices, one that would double nicely as a walk-in closet, or nursery, a full attic, and full basement.  That's a lot of house, Hunter told himself with a grin. Bigger than his own in Connecticut. 

He finally had his mansion. 

And that made him smile.

He then wondered how long it would take them to fill those upper rooms with children.  He chuckled, thinking of the expression on Nan's face if he told her he wanted one kid for each room.  She'd probably kill him.  But it'd be fun to tease her about.

"Doctor William Lyon built the house in 1823."  Jedi's voice cut through his mental ramblings.  "It was constructed in the Greek Revival style as was so popular for the time period, as I'm sure you can tell from the portico columns and elaborate scrollwork.  Doctor Lyon commission the house to be constructed at his wife Millicent's discretion.  She's the one who favored the larger than average – for the time period – rooms, presumably to accommodate the large hoop skirts that were the absolute height of fashion," Jedi chuckled pleasantly.

"Oh for the love of God, Montressor!  Shut up!"  Millie yelled finally, rolling her eyes.  "I swear to God above, Jedediah Flynn!  You could make a deaf man long for silence when you get started on antebellum history!"

Hunter lowered himself down behind Nan where she'd sat on the steps of the immense staircase once Miss Millie and Jedi had begun their teasing squabble.  His legs on either side of her hips, he draped his arms over Nan's shoulders, lacing his fingers into a loose fist in front of her.  She leaned back and propped her arms on his thighs.

He leaned forward a little and whispered in Nan's ear, "Montressor?"

"Mmm," she gave a bare nod.  "Edgar Allen Poe's The Cask of Amontillado.  Montressor walled up Fortuno, the jester, alive in an empty wine cask, leaving him there to die."

"Humph.  Sounds like my kind of guy."

Nan smothered a naughty giggle by whispering, "You are so bad."

His voice dropped to a low growl that sent shivers of desire down her spine.  "Sneak off with me under the Magnolias and I'll show you just how bad I can be."

She snuggled backwards even further against his chest, reveling in the heat that radiated off of him.  "Later, sweetheart."  At his groan, she grinned and turned her attention back to Jedi and Miss Millie.

"I take offense at that, Miss Millie."  Jedi mimed straightening an imaginary tie, his face fixed into a highly convincing mask of pompous effrontery.  Highly convincing if you didn't happen to see the deviltry dancing in his blue eyes, which Nan did.  "I've always preferred Moriarty to Montressor."

Nan turned slightly to her right.  "Moriarty was –"

"I know that one," Hunter growled into her ear.  "Professor Moriarty.  Arch rival to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's world-renown detective Sherlock Holmes."

She twisted her head around to glance upward at him.  "I do love an intelligent man."

He smirked back at her.  "Good thing I am one then, huh?"

"Yeah," she nodded, shyly biting her bottom lip.

Hunter dipped his head to caress her lips with his in a gentle kiss.  With a sweet sigh, she melted in his embrace, one hand sliding upwards to tangle in the silky blonde strands of his leonine mane.  Before their kiss could get out of hand, Miss Millie's screech broke them apart.

"Incoming!"

Hunter wrenched his head away in time to spot a blonde-haired giggling blur as it sped past, sliding hell-bent for leather down the ancient banister, headed right for the closed foyer door.  Hunter and Nan both lunged for the Jack-bullet, but both sets of grasping hands fell short.  The banister curled into a beautiful swirl at the bottom step, but with no newel post to stop the Jack's breakneck speed, the laughing little boy shot right off the banister and was airborne.  At the last second Jedi stepped into his path and caught him full force in the chest, keeping the little boy from crashing into the very solid oak door.  However, Jack's momentum did bowl Jedi over, and they landed with Jedi flat on his back, and Jack cackling on his chest.

"Jack!"  Hunter's bellow shook the rafters.

"Punkin'!  Are you okay?!"  Nan called, scrambling down the steps towards the two on the floor.

Instead of answering her, Jack beamed down at the man upon which he sat.  "Hey Jedi!  That wath cool, huh?  You've gotta try it!"

"Okay, sport," Hunter announced, plucking Jack off the attorney's chest.  "No more banister rides without an adult holding on to you.  At least until you learn how to break.  Get me?"

Jack beamed up at him, his eyes ablaze with happiness.  "Gotcha!"