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!"

"Lovely," Jedi groaned, still slightly winded from the fall.  "No one even asks if I'm okay."

Denise, who'd observed the whole scene from her point against the wall, grinned.  "You okay, sweet-buns?"

Jedi rolled his head towards her and winked.  "Fine, thanks.  Care to join me down here?"

Relieved laughter erupted around them as Jedi continued to lie there leering at his wife.

The old lady grinned down at him.  "A little old to be taking your leisure on the floor, aren't you counselor?"

"Thanks, Miss Millie.  So glad you care," Jedi grumbled.

Nan fixed him with a grateful look.  "Thank you, Jedi.  You are all right, yes?"

"Yeah.  Besides, I've hit that door at full throttle, Crusher.  Falling on my ass hurts a lot less.  Believe me," Jedi grunted, picking himself up off the floor.  He stood up, brushing dust off of his abused posterior while his wife sniggered lowly with Nan.  He glared at them both, then fixed a twinkling smile on Hunter.  "Well.  Ready to take a look at the grounds and basement?"

Hunter set Jack back on his feet, and the little boy scurried over to the steps to retrieve Doc the Bear, where he'd fallen once Jack had taken flight from the banister.  He scooped up the toy, then stopped, staring down at something on the bottom step.

Pointing, he asked, "Mith Millie?  What'th that?"

Millie craned her neck over to see what the child was looking at.  "A hoof print, Anitsasgili."

He turned wide eyes on her.  "You let hortheth inthide??"

"No, punkin'," Nan answered while Miss Millie laughed.  "The Union army used this house as their headquarters during the war and they even rode their horses right up those stairs when they rousted the Lyon family out of it."

"They took possession in 1863.  And in early '64 they began to use it as a Union hospital as well as their headquarters,"  Millie spoke absently.  "My great-great-grandfather William died three months after the war ended, losing four of his five sons to it.  Great-grandfather Leonard actually had to go to Washington and petition President Andrew Johnson to have it returned to my family after Union General Joseph Hawley refused to turn it back over."

She looked up at Hunter with a curiously blank expression in her black eyes.  "He had to ask for a pardon to get our home back.  A pardon.  For defending his home and family.  He never even served in the war.  I only have one memory of him…Great-grandfather Leonard.  I was three, but it's clear as a bell behind my eyes.  He seemed very tired.  And sad.  He died in 1927."

A far off look came over Millie's face and she absently traced the hole that Hunter had noted earlier, thinking it was just regular wear and tear on an old house.  Now he recognized it for what it was…a bullet hole…shot from a musket over 140 years ago.  He mulled that over in his brain.  A Union hospital.  That mean people…probably a lot of them…had…died here.  He wasn't a superstitious man.  Wasn't even sure if he believed in an after-life of any kind.  But that information settled in his stomach like...he looked over at the bullet hole in the wall…well, like a lead ball.

Jack broke the uneasy silence that fell over them.  "That wath thilly.  Even I know hortheth don't thuppothed ta be in a houth.  They're thuppothed ta be in a barn with hay an' thtuff!"

Chuckling at the naiveté of the innocent, the group headed back down the hallway and towards the kitchen.  Hunter stopped them at the small closet behind the stairs.  "What's this?"

Jedi turned the key in the padlock that barricaded the door, and tugged down on the lock.  It popped open under the protest of metal not used in a very long time.  He threw back the latch, opened the door, and flipped an ancient looking light switch.  "Normally, it's the interior access to the basement, but you can see why we're going in from the outside."

Hunter looked easily over Jedi's shoulders and could see that about halfway down, the stairs just disappeared, leaving only the broken spines and teeth of splintered wood.  He looked over at Miss Millie.  "What happened?"

The older lady gave a careless shrug.  "Don't rightly know.  They've been that way all my life.  And since we never used the basement for anything other than storage, there wasn't any real reason to have it fixed."

As Jedi turned off the light and secured the door, Nan turned to Jack.  "Punkin'?"  She pointed to the door.  "Off limits.  Period.  You go into the basement only from the outside and only with an adult.  Okay?"

He nodded brightly up at her.  "Okay, Mith Nan."

Their merry band continued on through the kitchen and out the back door onto the porch.  They went down the flight of steps and turned to the right to go down to the basement.

"I know the carriage house was converted into a cottage," Hunter began, referring to the house that Nan had occupied when he first met her.  He nodded his head at the larger building he'd never been in, one that obviously was dated around the same time as the house itself.  "But what about that one?"

Miss Millie suddenly became very interested in the toes of her sneakers.  Jedi, Nan, and Denise all shared a look that wasn't lost on Hunter.  But Jedi answered, "We can't go in there.  It's unstable.  Gutted by a fire a while back."  Jedi shook his head.  "Not safe."

"A fire?"  Hunter asked, his eyebrows shooting skyward.  "When?"

Millie answered this time.  "Nineteen sixty eight, if I remember it correctly."

Hunter took in the reluctant looks on their faces, thought about the time period around the date, then glanced back at the innocuous red brick two-story building.  His eyes narrowed, not liking the conclusion he was coming to.  "What was it for?"

"Before the fire, we used to rent out the rooms," Millie answered.

Rooms, he thought grimly.  She still hadn't answered the question he asked, though.  "But what was it used for when it was first built," Hunter pressed.

"Servants quarters," Nan answered shortly, moving towards the basement steps.

"Servants?"  Hunter murmured thoughtfully, eyeing the building.  "Don't you mean –"

"I said servants quarters and that's what I meant," she interrupted, her back ramrod straight and stiff.

"Baby, come on.  You know –"

"Hunter," Nan rounded on him with a fierce look in her eyes, "How did your family make your money?"

Startled at the unexpected question, he answered haltingly.  "My mother's family brought some of it over from Norway when they came here in the early 1700s.  And Dad's family's wealth came from England.  But mostly it was from more modern land transactions.  Industry.  Business trade.  That sort of thing."

"Uh-huh."  Nan nodded, then pointed to the larger of the two buildings.  "That was the servant's quarters.  Now don't ask me how my family made ours."

Not liking the non-answer he'd gotten, yet expecting nothing less, he stood staring at the building as the others began their decent into the depths of the semi-underground basement, his brows drawing together into a frown.

That building gave him the creeps.  Always had since the moment he laid eyes on it.  Hunter wasn't the type of man to be scared of anything that drew breath on this earth.  But like most men of his caliber, it was the things he couldn’t see that made him exceedingly nervous.  Oh, he scoffed at anything he couldn't touch, taste, hear, smell, feel, or see.  But sometimes, he'd get a feeling that he couldn't explain.  And it made him nervous.  Not afraid, he told himself.  Just…nervous.  It was bad enough that Miss Millie had tagged Jack with that Apache nickname Anitsasgili that roughly translated into ghost child – a child that was wasting away on the inside, she'd explained.  Yeah, that was bad by itself…now this…this…building.

He eyed the structure with distaste one last time.  Maybe he should bulldoze the damned thing.  It really creeped him out.  And that thought led him to another.

"Miss Millie," Hunter stopped her just before she headed down the stairs.  "You said earlier that Genie hated this house and wanted nothing to do with it.  Is that why you agreed to sell it to us rather than leave it to her?"

"Yes and no."  Millie shrugged.  "Genie didn't live here long, just from the time she was sixteen until she enlisted in the Army when she graduated high school.  She always knew that this house would go to Sally at some point."

"What do you mean?"

"Game," she smiled sadly at him.  "This house was going to be Sally's wedding gift from me when she married my Bobby.  She doesn't know that, though," Millie added seeing the look on Hunter's face.  "Genie never stood to inherit it.  And she never wanted it.  Especially not after Bobby crossed over.  It's only fitting that Sally end up with it after all."

Digesting that bit of information, Hunter asked, "But why does she hate the house?"

She grinned slyly at him, and patted him on the butt before preceding him down the steps.  "Because it's haunted."

By the specter of Bobby Wallace, no doubt, he thought involuntarily.  He may have been the man who would marry Nan and live in this house with her, but her deceased fiancé haunted him, not her.  With a pained groan, Hunter dropped his head, shaking it slightly and followed them down into the bowels of the house. 

+++++ 

Long after the tour of house and grounds had ended, well past the point of Jedi and Denise Flynn's departure, Miss Millie had convinced Hunter and Nan to stay for dinner.  Nan had called her parents to let them know they were there and everything had gone well.  She was somewhat irritated – but in a good way – to know that her parents had also been in on Hunter's secret, which was why they'd not demanded the couple to come straight to their house.  With promises of getting together for dinner in two days, they admonished their daughter to stay where she was and enjoy her birthday present.

Taking them at their word, Hunter and Nan curled up on the double swing on the front porch.  Indulging in an all too rare lazy afternoon, they watched Jack with sharp eyes as he ran around the front yard chasing Dixie.  The fifteen-pound terror of a dog barked joyously and ran after a red ball that the little boy kept throwing for her.

"How's Shawn?"  Nan asked quietly as Hunter clipped his cell phone back onto his belt.

"Not too good.  He's going in for surgery on Friday," Hunter answered with a thundercloud in his eyes. 

She glanced upwards at the gathering storm across her fiancé's face.  She'd weathered many such storms with him, but this one she couldn't ride.  This one was directed inward; he was taking responsibility for Shawn's knee surgery.  And he shouldn't.  "It's not your fault, Hunter."

He sighed, not surprised that she knew what he was thinking.  She usually did.  "He keeps saying the same thing.  I tried to talk him out of it, but he just wouldn't listen!  And now he's gonna be out for God knows how long, all because he insisted on wrestling me."

"Did you tear his meniscus?"

He blinked looking down into her face in puzzlement.  "No, but – "

"Were you the one who speared him and damn near drove his kneecap out of the back side of his leg?"

"That was Edge," he replied, shaking his head.  "But I worked that knee pretty good."

She just stared up at him, her lips twitching.  She fought it for a moment then burst out laughing.  "Oh, come on Hunter.  I watched you out there.  Front row, remember?  I know when you're holding back and making it look like you're not."

"I wasn't."

"Bullshit."

"Nan, I don't hold back in the ring.  You know that.  Any time one of those guys wants to try and take me on knows they'd damn well be a hundred and ten percent when they step through those ropes.  I take no prisoners and I show no mercy."  Hunter's voice was without heat.  He was only stating what he knew to be as truth.  Cold calculated fact.  "And they all go down the same way.  Hard."

"Bullshit," she repeated, grinning up at him.

He frowned at her.  "How can you keep saying that?  I don't –"

"Hunter," she interrupted.  "You're forgetting who you're talking to here.  I know how talented you are.  Even Edge said it himself.  You can take a broom into the ring and make it look good.  But I also know how good Shawn is."  At his look of skepticism, she held up a hand.  "That figure four?  You reversed it.  You made sure that all of the pressure was put on Shawn's good leg and that the bad knee was cushioned between the mat and your calf.  You gave him a rest period.  And you don't do that.  Unless you care.  The same way that you always have your hands raised into the air long before he takes flight off that top turnbuckle long before you should.  Face it, sweetheart, you care about Shawn...even when you were fighting with him and were doing some horrible things to each other, you held back a little.  You don't want to be the one who seriously hurts him."

He stared down at her dumbfounded, but she prattled on before he could say anything.  "Who's the one person you want to have in a room alone so you can pound the living shit out of them…for real…outside the WWE?"

"Mike Tyson," he answered without hesitation.

Her smile widened, and she lifted a brow.  "And we both know the reason behind that, now don't we?"

He only muttered, "Shawn."

"Bad Blood, last year.  You did the same thing with Deez.  Granted you two damn near exsanguinated yourselves.  But you weren't as vicious as you could have been."  She rushed on to stop his coming protest.  "If Scott Hall were to challenge you and step through those ropes, would you beat him into a grease spot on the mat?"

"Scotty's got his own demons to fight.  He doesn't need me adding to them," Hunter spoke sadly.

Nodding, Nan continued.  "And despite what happened between the two of you, if X-Pac called you tomorrow and asked for your help, what would you do?"

"Whatever I had to."

"Hunter, 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."  She smiled at him.  "I've watched you do it your whole career.  That's why you and Deez, Taker, and Shawn – now – are friends again.  And I fully expect that one day Scotty and X-Pac will fit back into that category as well.  Everyone in the locker room knows that about you.  You don't hide it at all.  And any that don't know it, well, they're not worth the effort anyway."

He noted that she left Randy out of her analogy.  "You can't hold a grudge forever in this business," he told her.  Then his voice dropped an octave and he looked away.  "Besides, friends are too hard to come by for me."

She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek, turning his gaze back to hers.  He looked down into those dark depths and saw her eyes shining with emotion.  "And that's why I've always seen you as an honorable man."

At her declaration, he could clearly hear Al Snow's words from almost three years ago echo through his head.

Some how she's got it in her head that under all those pounds of shit you call a personality, that you're an honorable man.  Honorable.  That's the word she uses.  You're some sort of fucking hero in her eyes.  Only God knows why.

But before he could tell her just how wrong she was, she was talking again.

"Now I'll admit, Shawn sold that figure four like he was being sawed in half and you played the consummate sadist.  Hell, you both deserve Emmy nominations for that performance.  But face it, sweetheart.  You…held…back."  She punctuated each word with a poke to his stomach.

And suddenly, he didn't want to tell her he wasn't honorable.  Wasn't a hero.  Wasn't her hero.  Because he wanted to be.  Then Shawn's voice now filled his head. 

Your insecurity of losing her, or her deciding you don't measure up, is what's gonna be your undoing if you don't get a handle on it.  Hunt, what I'm getting at here is that you are the only one who can ever take her away from you.

Hunter pursed his lips, and then finally a small twitch curved his mouth.  "Maybe I held back a little."

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured with a satisfied look in her eyes.

"C'mere you," Hunter growled with a full grin now curling his mouth upwards.  He snuggled her closer as she slid across the swing.  "Jack, not too high now!"  He called out, seeing the boy head for the bottom branches of one of the Magnolia trees.  The little boy waved in response, and Hunter pushed against the porch setting the swing into a gentle sway.

They sat quietly for a moment before Hunter spoke softly, "I didn't mean to make you angry earlier."

"You didn't."  When he nudged her, she added, "Okay so you did.  A little.  It's a touchy subject."

"So I see."

She sighed.  "Hunter, I'm very proud of my heritage.  Being Scottish, and Native American, with a little smattering of English means a lot to me.  And I'm Southern down to my bones.  I love the South.  But while I love it, there's a lot of things about the South that I'm not proud of.  The racism.  The stereotypes.  The willful ignorance.  And parts of our history.  People, non-Southerners, assume things about who I am just because of the way I talk.  So when our history comes up, and it always does, I get defensive."

"I can understand that."  Hunter agreed.  "It pisses me the fuck off when people yammer about the Vikings being nothing but mindless raping, pillaging, killing machines.  They weren't all like that."

She nodded.  "I know.  But that doesn't change the fact that I shouldn't have gotten so defensive with you.  You didn't deserve it for just asking a question.  I'm sorry."

He could have said a lot, pounded the point home even further, but he chose not to.  Instead, he just nodded and spoke a quiet, "Thank you."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence until Hunter chuckled and said, "Why does Jedi call you Crusher?  Something you need to tell me, baby?"

Nan trilled a light laugh, more than happy to go with the change in subject.  "No, nothing like that.  He and I are huge Bugs Bunny fans."

When she didn't continue, Hunter made a rotating motion with his hand.  "More."

"During exam time in college, we'd watch classic Bugs Bunny and Loony Toons to blow off steam.  My second favorite Bugs cartoon features a hugemongous muscle-bound wrestler named–"

"The Crusher," Hunter finished for her, he laughed, recognizing the reference now.  "The one with Bugs as the mascot for Ravishing Ronald the De-Natured Boy."

"Exactly."

Hunter grinned for a moment, then added, "You know he was patterned after Gorgeous George."

"Of course," She smiled back.  "I always liked the way The Crusher talked when Bugs dropped the safe on his head."  She crossed one eye, dropped her voice an octave, and impersonated the cartoon character.  "Just passin' by; just passin' by.  Thought I'd drop in and say hellew, dooyee…"

"Not bad, baby.  Not bad."  Hunter took a drink from his water, and set the bottle back down on the porch railing, pushing the swing back into its gentle motion.  "I always thought The Crusher looked a lot like Stiener."

Their joined laughter rang out across the front lawn, and Miss Millie couldn't help but smile as a warm feeling filled her chest from where she watched them from inside the front parlor. 

She nodded to herself and whispered lowly, allowing the lace curtain to fall back into place, "You were right.  They'll be good for this place." 

~<>~

Goodnight, my angel
Time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say
I promised I would never leave you
And you should always know
Wherever you may go
No matter where you are
I never will be far away
       Lullabye – Billy Joel

October 21, 2004 8:03 p.m. EST
Carriage House – Lyons Cove – Moccasin Gap, NC 

Nan crept silently as possible down the back hall of her old house.  After what Stacy had told her about listening to Hunter read to Jack and Cam – and Shawn, she reminded herself, stifling a giggle – at their house a few days ago, there was no way she was gonna miss this.  She didn't know how much longer she'd have her little boy – because that's how she saw him now – and she wanted to store up as many memories as possible to keep close to her heart once he'd gone back to his parents.  She stumbled mentally over that title, silently echoing Miss Millie's sentiments.  It took much more than biology to make a parent, and if there were any justice…

Pausing outside the door to Tina's old room, now Jack's, she offered up a silent prayer.  Father, I don't know why You brought the child into my life only to take him away again.  Your Word says 'Ye have not because ye ask not'.  Well, I'm asking.  I want this child.  He needs me.  He needs Hunter. 

Jack's laughter pulled her attention back to the occupants of the room, and Nan peeped around the corner to spy the little boy wrestling with her fiancé on the bedroom floor.  He had Hunter in a headlock, and the blonde behemoth was doing an admirable job of selling his nearly comatose state.  With one arm locked firmly around Hunter's neck, clasping on to one ear for leverage, Jack lifted Hunter's arm with his free hand. 

It dropped.  He lifted it again.  It dropped again.  One last time.  Drop. 

Jack immediately moved to cover him as Hunter flopped backwards onto the floor and the little boy became both opponent and referee as he gave out his own three count.  "One!  Two!  Three!  I gotcha Mithter Hunter!!"

Hunter popped up, scooping up the child and tickling him as Jack gave way to childish shrieks of laughter, Dixie's exuberant barking joining in on the cacophony going on in the smaller bedroom.  "You sure did, sport!  Into bed with you now."

As the little boy scrambled up onto the high antique gait-legged twin bed, he asked, "Mithter Hunter?  Can I be a wrethclar when I grow up?"

Hunter paused only for a moment before sitting down on the edge of the bed, and helping the little boy under the covers.  "Sport, you can be anything you want to be, if you want it badly enough.  Anything."

Jack flashed his gamine grin at the big man.  "I wanna be a wrethclar!  Will you teach me?"

Nan could see Hunter swallow hard, and she felt moisture prick at her own eyes as her fiancé leaned down a bit, and said very seriously, "I'd be honored to teach you, Jack."

"Actthion Jackthon!"  The little boy crowed.  "That'th gonna be my name…jutht like the Doctor of Thugamithkth callth me!"

Laughing, Hunter acquiesced.  "Okay, Action Jackson it'll be.  Now…what's the story for tonight?"

Jack pointed to a book laying on the bedside table.  "That one."

Hunter's laughter increased as he picked up a book he recognized well, and began to read: 

Come one, come all, to Wrescal Lane.
It's the bestest place to see
Your favorite WWE Superstars
As kids like you and me!
First there's young Mick Foley,
With missing teeth and dirty shirt.
One look at him will tell you
He's not afraid of getting hurt! 

" Mick!  He'th the one that gave me that book at Tabooooo Tuethday!  Bang bang!"

Hunter laughed and looked down at the little boy.  "Jack, you make sure that I teach you to wrestle, and not Mick, okay?"

"How come?"

"Because," Hunter paused, images of Randy covered in thumbtacks after his infamous encounter with Cactus Jack from a year ago flashing in front of his eyes.  He remembered all too well what that felt like from his own street fight with the Hardcore Legend back in 2000.  Hunter felt a little queasy at the prospect of this little boy being decorated in the same way.  "Because Miss Nan will cry if she finds out you trained with someone other than me."

"Or Unca Thhawn?"

He smiled.  "Yeah, or Uncle Shawn."  He picked up the book and began to read again, but didn't get very far before he felt the need to comment. 

Kurt Angle thinks he's brave and strong;
He's really quite the boaster – 

"Ain't that the truth," Hunter rumbled, but continued on. 

Till he visits Mr. McMahon's new theme park
And sees the roller coaster!
Triple H calls himself The Game;
He's good at any task. 

"That'th you, Mither Hunter!"  Jack announced proudly.

"Humph," Hunter remarked, surprised to be in the book in such a non-derogatory way.  "Sure is." 

Kane's a real big, scary kid.
Why does he wear that mask?
Check out Lita and Matt Hardy,
Always leapin' before lookin'.
And The Rock keeps shouting for everyone
To smell what he is cookin'!
Say hi to Stacy Keibler;
She's cute and easy to like. 

"Aunt Thkye!"

Hunter chuckled, and continued on, beginning to get into Jack's running commentary. 

But what's up with Al Snow
And that doll's head on his bike?
Look, there's Stephanie McMahon,
Selling some of Dad's old things. 

He nearly bit his tongue over that one, but as Jack kept quiet, so did he, and went on with the story. 

Uh-oh, those mean ol' Dudley Boys
Gave Shane a bruise that stings!
These kids still have a lot to learn
About playing nice and sharing.
Perhaps we can learn with them
To become a bit more caring!
Now get ready for lots of fun,
Come shine or come rain,
As you read over and over
These Tales from Wrescal Lane! 

He needs us.  And we need him.  Amen.  Nan quickly finished her prayer and moved back up the hall to await Hunter in the living room. 

+++++ 

She didn't have to wait long.  Hunter came ambling down the hallway and back through the small kitchen rubbing a large hand over his head.  But there was a smile on his face.  He stopped by the refrigerator and snagged a bottle of water, grabbing one for her as well.

Joining her on the couch, he passed her the bottle of water and reached for the bowl of cheddar corn she'd made.  He had to admit, he was glad she'd insisted on going grocery shopping after they'd signed the deed and finished up the closing.  That way they didn't have to go out for food unless they just wanted to.

He looked up at the television currently showing Billy Kidman damn near killing Chavo with his Shooting Star Press.  "What'd I miss?"

"Teddy smoothing over Booker T's abused and over-inflated ego.  Oh, and Carlito versus Rico jerked the curtain."

Hunter snorted.  "Now that's a match made in hell."

Nan punched him lightly.  "Hey, I like Rico.  He's funny as all hell and a good wrestler.  I was a big fan of his when he was an American Gladiator."

"Baby, don't tell me things like that," Hunter admonished.  "It makes me lower my opinion of your good taste."

She punched at him again.  "Jerk!"

Laughing, Hunter took her into his arms, and maneuvered them around into that odd pretzel style of laying down that they usually were in when watching Smackdown.  He let out a low whistle as Chavo clotheslined Kidman over the top rope.  "That was sweet."

Nan murmured in agreement, her attention on the screen as they showed the highlights from the Survivor Series press conference.

"A straight-jacket?  Oh give me a break!  Who booked this crap!?"  Hunter groaned, after a brutal-on-the-eyes-not-in-the-ring squash match between Heidenreich and Shannon Moore.  He then chuckled, watching Heidenreich wipe his nose on Heyman's jacket after the match.  "Okay, that was funny."

Nan just laughed with him.

"Do you think he did it?  Carlito, I mean," she asked after watching Teddy Long question the obnoxious US Champion on John's stabbing, only to have the annoying young wrestler lawyer-up.

"No."

His answer was so final, and so definite, that Nan looked up at him.  He had a hard look on his face.  One he wore usually only when he was about to bury someone in the ring, and she thought she saw a tinge of something else in his eyes.  Was that…fear?  "Hunter?"

"I mean, come on, baby.  Does the Caribbean Chia Pet look like he'd have the balls enough to take on Matt, Boog, Danny, Cena, and Guerrero in a parking lot?"  He looked down at her, and he smiled, wiping away the granite look, his eyes warming as he gazed at her, convincing her she'd been mistaken on what she'd thought she'd seen. 

Put that way, how could she argue?  "I guess not," she laid back down.

They watched quietly, for a few more minutes, then Nan tensed up as Mark Jindrak and Luther Reigns came down to the ring.  She relaxed quickly, hoping Hunter wouldn't notice.  She was wrong.

"Baby?  What is it?"

She shook her head against his chest.  "Nothing."

But he wasn't buying.  He knew her too well.  He fell quiet though, waiting to see what else would her body language tell him.  Whatever it was she didn't want him to know.  He didn't have to wait long.  She seemed to shrink involuntarily away from the television every time Reigns was the focus of the camera.

"Okay, Nan.  Enough of this crap.  What aren't you telling me?"

She curled even closer to him.  "It's nothing, Hunter, really.  He just…scared me, is all."

Unwinding himself from her, Hunter leaned over, snatched up the remote, and turned off the television.  He turned her around to face him.  He fixed her with a stern glare.  "I thought after that discussion we had over you keeping Randy's bullshit from me that we weren't going to lie to each other anymore."

"That's not fair."

"And neither is you not being honest with me.  Damnit, Nan!"  He hissed furiously.  "This is exactly one of the reasons why I hired Oz!  How am I supposed to protect you if you don't tell me when one of these idiots decides to take his life in his hands and steps over the line with you?!  I thought you trusted me more than that!"

"I do trust you!" she cried.

"Then tell me what the fuck happened for Reigns to scare you so badly that you shrink away from his image on the fuckin' TV!"

"He hit me!"  Her eyes widened in horror, and her hands flew up to cover her mouth.

"He what?!"  Hunter roared.  "And you were gonna tell me this when?!"  He expected her to blow up at him.  To yell and get as angry as he was.  That's how they usually fought.  But not this time. 

To his consternation, she immediately began to cry.  "I couldn't tell you!"  And suddenly her words just spilled out of her, like they'd been bottled up and he'd unknowingly popped the cork.  He listened intensely, as she told a tale of Angle, Jindrak, and Reigns cornering her in the gym after he'd left her with Guerrero and Big Show on the morning of Summer Slam.  She was quick to rise to their defense, saying that she'd told them to leave.  That she'd declared herself more than capable of getting to her room on her own.  But then Angle and his cronies had shown up. 

Some how he'd found out about Tina, and who her real mother was.  Nan had smarted off at all of them, not realizing the danger she was really in.  When Angle had gotten tired of her mouth, he'd jerked Reigns' leash.  The bastard had hit her.  And that wrote him off as a walking corpse in Hunter's book.

It was then that she found out what Angle really wanted from her.  He'd tried to use that information to blackmail Nan into helping him get Bischoff fired so Angle could take his place to get rid of Hunter.  And all of this stemmed over Angle's obsession with his ex-wife.

Jesus Christ, but the man was mental.

He barely caught the part about Undertaker finding her, and getting her back to their room after the two of them had made peace.  But he did catch that Taker had seen her face, gotten her some ice for the swelling – that set off a growl from him – and then made her promise to tell Hunter and to let him in on it when Hunter decided to do something about it.

"I know I should have told you, but I just couldn't…the courts…."

"It's okay, baby," he murmured soothingly, when her voice trailed off into quiet tears, punctuated by the occasional sniff.  "You've had to carry this secret alone for far too long.  Not anymore.  I know now.  And no.  Hush," he placed a finger on her lips, as she was about to say something else.  "I'm not going to ask you to talk about it.  I know you can't.  But you should have told me before now about Angle."

"I didn't know what to do…I couldn't talk to you about it then, because you didn't know…and even if I wanted to talk about it, that fucking court order prevents me from doing it.  There was only one person I could turn to.  So I had Jedi draw up a restraining order against Angle."

He nodded.  "Jedi knows the whole deal then?"

"He had to.  He's my lawyer," she replied as if that explained everything.

Hunter didn't know with whom he was angrier at that very moment.  Her parents for putting her through this twenty years ago?  Her brother for perpetuating the lie that should have been revealed long before now – or whenever he chose to reveal it?  A lie that inadvertently had put his sister in danger all these years later…and because of him.  How about the man he was almost a hundred percent positive got her pregnant at fourteen in the first place?  Or should he blame Angle who'd terrorized her and had one of his lackeys raise a hand against her?

No, he couldn't be mad at her parents, because he knew them well enough to know that they were only doing what they thought was best for their daughter, no matter how wrong it turned out to be.  Yeah, he could be angry with Robbie, and was.  But he couldn't do a thing about that without hurting Nan and Tina even more.  And Tina's father…well, he wanted to be more than almost certain before he did something about that.  Too many other people that he cared about would be hurt enough when that truth came to light.  So that left…Angle and Reigns.

Hunter felt the slow burn of anger bleed through his veins, turning into rage as it burned.  And he reveled in its dark embrace, welcoming it home.

Nan's sniffle broke through the blaze of red and black behind his eyes.  "What're you gonna do?"

"Take care of it."

She nodded slowly and turned to wrap both arms around his middle.  He returned her hug, and turned the television back on, then lightly stroked her hair, holding her tightly against his chest, right over his heart.  Where she belonged.

Looked like he and Angle had another score to settle over the woman in Hunter's life.

Angle would definitely be in Cleveland for Summer Slam.

So would Evolution, the Kliq, Y2J, Taker, and maybe even Cena, if his instincts regarding the brash young superstar were on the money.  They'd all want in once he told 'em the deal.  All they'd need to know is that Reigns slapped her and Angle had ordered it.  That'd be enough.  The rest he could keep to himself.

Hunter grinned over the top of Nan's head.  An evil, malicious, sinister smile. 

It was gonna be a hot time in old Cleveland town that night. 

~<>~

Little lady standin’ next to me,
Isn’t she a pretty thing?
I’m the one who put that ring on her left hand!
Another fella can tip his hat,
And I’m as gentle as a pussycat.
But let it go much further than that,
And he’s a dead man!
       A Good Way To Get On My Bad Side – Tracy Byrd

October 22, 4:19 p.m. EST
Tri-County Agricultural Fair – Moccasin Gap, NC 

"I can't believe I lost that bet!"

"I told you not to wager with me.  I make it a point not to lose, baby.  You know that."  Hunter watched as she rubbed the mane of the stuffed lion against her cheek, and laughed aloud at the sultry look she shot him through her lashes.  "Give it up woman.  Don't even try to convince me that you're upset that you lost."

"On principle only," she murmured as she slid under his arm as they made their way towards the carousel at the center of the fairgrounds.

"Oooh!  Mither Hunter!"  Jack called from his perch on Hunter's shoulders.

"What is it, sport?"

"I wanna ride the hortheth!  Can I, huh?  Can I?"

"That's where we're headed, punkin'."  Nan replied.

"You ride with me."  Jack declared authoritatively once Hunter set him on his feet near the brightly decorated carousel.

Nan looked at Hunter and he nodded.  "But Doc and Wyatt have to stay with Mister Hunter.  No toys on the ride, okay, punkin'?"

"Athlan too?" he asked pointing at the lion she had tucked under her arm.

"Aslan too," she answered, passing the toy to her fiancé.

"Okay."  The little boy thrust the bear and the newly acquired stuffed Clydesdale at him, then tugged on Nan's hand towards the line for the ride. 

Hunter walked forward to lean against the railing, a little farther down than the other people waiting to wave at their families, kids, or friends.  He shifted the white paper sack he carried, tucking the stuffed animals into the large curl of his arm, and watched Nan and Jack board the carousel.

He unclipped the flip phone from his belt, holding it up as Jack and Nan made their first pass and snapped a picture of them waving at him.  Quickly he text-messaged Stacy's cell number and uploaded the picture to her with the simple message:  Ain't we havin' fun now!  He snapped several other pictures of the two of them on subsequent passes, sent those as well, then closed off the phone and hooked it back on his belt.

With a content warmth filling him, he felt himself smile.  He'd balked at first when Nan had proposed the idea of going to the large fair that encompassed three counties.  But after numerous assurances from Nan and Miss Millie that they'd be allowed to take in the fair in peace, and the begging look on Jack's face, he gave in.  Hunter had taken precautions though.  He'd pulled his hair back into a ponytail, rammed a ball cap down on his head that he'd borrowed from Brun that had the PD's insignia on it, donned his amber sunglasses, and off they'd gone. 

For the most part, Nan and Miss Millie had been right.  They'd been there all day, and had thoroughly enjoyed themselves.  On the few occasions when a stray fan or two had looked like they were going to approach the trio, someone Nan knew intervened, preventing it.  Once it had been Ruby of Vern's Vittles when they'd stopped at a stand for the Longview United Methodist Church, where she was selling her famous country ham biscuits.  Hunter had bought a dozen.  Four of which were already gone.  One for Nan, one for Jack, and two for himself.  The others were earmarked for Red Elliott.  Knowing they were going to TCAF – the Tri-County Agricultural Fair as the natives called it – Red had all but threatened Hunter with not letting him marry his daughter if he didn't bring him back some of those biscuits.  It was a fair bride price in Hunter's opinion.

Another time a curious person had approached was at the 4-H sponsored cake decorating display.  Hunter had just been introduced to Viola Wilburn, Nan's old Sunday School teacher, and the lady who was going to make their wedding cake.  Viola couldn't have been more pleased that they'd stopped by, as she'd just won first place with her Castle in the Sky cake.  It was very flowery, sickeningly romantic in nature, and Hunter ordered it on the spot.  Once he'd seen the look of longing in Nan's eyes.  While they talked cake, a fan had approached and Viola had brandished a spatula full of homemade frosting at the person, threatening them with it if they didn't leave her customers in peace.  He liked that woman.

And the last time it was Reverend Credle where he worked the Test Your Strength booth, the proceeds going to the Brookshire Baptist Church Youth Retreat.  They were going on a mission trip to Belize and needed all the help they could get.  That's where Hunter had won Nan's lion and Jack's Clydesdale.  He'd laughed the minute he'd seen the tall tower topped with a bell, with a sledgehammer leaning against it.  How could he lose?  He hadn't, much to Nan's reluctant chagrin, since she'd bet him his choice of forfeit if he won. 

He'd nailed it twice in succession, first shot out, winning his lady and the little boy their choice of prizes. It was him swinging the hammer that had gained the attention of a troop wrestling fans.  But Reverend Credle had shooed the curious people on, claiming that they shouldn't pester a devoted member of his congregation.  Hunter turned away, covering a grin, and murmured to the good reverend that he was under the impression that lying was a sin.  But Reverend Credle's answer still had him chuckling.  The pastor had calmly told him that he'd only be lying if Hunter didn't attend his services, with his new bride when they weren't on the road.  Once they moved, of course.

The ride came to a halt, with Nan and Jack right in front of him.  "We're going to take another turn, okay?"  She yelled to him.

"Okay!"  He hollered back, watching as they walked around the carousel out of his line of sight to pass the required tickets to the man running the ride.

Yeah, Hunter thought to himself, Reverend Credle was a cagey one.  But he liked the man.  Hard not to when he found out that he and Nan had been schoolmates.  They'd grown up knowing each other all their lives, and he had some of the most interesting stories to tell about his fiancée before he'd met her.

He grinned and waved each time as Jack and Nan passed by on the carousel.  He'd never lived in a small town.  Never had been part of a real family before.  Or a community of any kind outside of the WWE, either.  They weren't that different, really, when he thought about it.  Both were cliquish, very close knit, and they protected their own.  Very much like his place of work.  He nodded.  He could live here.  Oh, sure, small towns had their downside.  But he was sure he could cope with that part too.

A voice he recognized caught his attention.  "Hey, Hunter!"

Hunter stiffened his spine.  Speaking of downsides…Hunter turned slightly as the newcomer sidled up next to him at the railing.  "Montgomery."

"Surprised to see you here.  Nan around?"

He nodded towards the stopped carousel.  "Over there."

Bo chuckled.  "Yeah, she always did love the rides.  Though, if I remember correctly, she preferred the Ferris Wheel.  Loved getting stuck up on top."

He chuckled again, and Hunter pursed his lips, fighting the urge to plant the guy like a lawn dart.  Head first.

"I hear ya bought Lyons Cove."  At Hunter's blank look he added, "Miss Millie's.  That's what it's called around here."

"Mmm-hmm.  Lyons Cove," Hunter murmured, not knowing why he was even talking to the jackass standing beside him.

"Original owners named it that.  The Lyons family…Miss Millie's folk.  Her great-great granddaddy – or somethin' like that – built it back at the height of the South. Old man Lyon owned all of it, the whole cove.  It was a big tobacco and rice plantation way back when."  Bo paused, then grinned.  "Back before the War of Northern Aggression."

"You mean the Civil War."

Bo chuckled, thoroughly enjoying himself.  "If I'd a meant that, I'd a said that.  Yankee."

Hunter turned his head and hissed, "Don't fuck with me, Montgomery.  You'll lose."

The younger man's grin only widened.  "Yeah, that was a cheap shot.  I was raised better.  I apologize."

"Uh-huh."  Hunter stared at him, knowing he was anything but repentant.  Then he turned back away.

"So you did buy it, huh?"

"Yeah," Hunter answered shortly.  His eyes scoured the crowd, growing anxious waiting for the carousel to start up again, not liking them to be out of his sight.  "We did."

"When y'all movin' in?"

"December.  After we get back from our honeymoon."  He stressed the word in a rumbled warning.

Bo grinned again.  "Where ya gonna take her?"

Hunter turned on him quickly, his eyes narrowed, his mouth turned down in a frown.  "Are you writing a fuckin' book or somethin', Montgomery?  Leave that chapter out."

The dark haired man held up his hands and laughed.  "Ease up there, pard."

"I'm not your partner."

Bo shook his head, still grinning, and scratched his chin.  "No, no.  That you most certainly are not.  Can't murder a man for bein' neighborly, though."

"I'm not your neighbor either," Hunter growled, turning back to watch for Nan.

"Now see, Game?  That's where you're wrong."

Hunter snorted sarcastically.  "Oh really."

Bo laughed again.  "Really.  I am your neighbor.  One of the only two in the cove, actually."

With a slow turn, Hunter fixed those amber tinted sunglasses on him.  "You're shittin' me."

"Nope.  I'm up on the point.  To your right.  Welcome to Moccasin Gap," Bo grinned at him, knowing better than to extend his hand, lest he find it ripped off at the wrist.  And fed to him.

His dark eyes snapping with mischief, he knew full well that the professional wrestler engaged to his friend would like nothing better than to stake him over an anthill somewhere.  But he couldn't do thing one to him.  And that made it all the more fun to needle him whenever he got the chance.  Damn, this was gonna be fun!

The music from the carousel started up again as it began to move and Hunter turned back around to watch for them.  Nan and Jack waved at him on their first pass.  He could see her eyes light up when she saw who he was talking to.

"Bothephath!"  Jack cried, spying him.

"Hey Jack!  Ride 'em cowboy!  Whoooo-eeee!  Lookin' good, Sugar!"  Bo called out, waving back at the pair on the carousel.

Hunter ground his teeth together.  And the sonofabitch was his new next door neighbor. 

Just fuckin' perfect. 

~<>~

In a spiral never-ending are we drawn toward the source
Spinning at the mercy of an unrelenting force
So we stare into the emptiness and fall beneath the weight
Circling the Nexus in a fevered dance with fate
Wealthy the spirit that knows its own flight
Stealthy the hunter who slays his own fright
Blessed the traveler who journeys the length of the light
       The Nexus – Dan Fogelburg

October 23, 12:42 p.m.
The Nexus' Mythical Creations  – Downtown – Moccasin Gap, NC 

The jangling of the bells trilling merrily over the Celtic music piped through the speakers over head caused the proprietress to call out, but not glance up.  "Be right with you."

"Take your time, Anne.  I'm in no hurry."

Anne Pegasus, owner of The Nexus' Mythical Creations, immediately lifted her head at the voice.  "Well, I'll be dipped in cat litter and deep fried!  Girl, why didn't you tell me you were coming to town?!"  She moved out of the display window, leaving a rather well endowed mannequin only half dressed.

Nan, as always, had to grin watching the lady come over to where she stood.  A sturdy-built woman, her father had called her, taking an instant liking to the former Florida native when they'd met years ago.  Anne was almost as big around as she was tall, which wasn't very.  She claimed to be five-foot-one, but Nan knew better.  That was only when she was wearing heels, which she usually didn't, unless they were very small block heels on antique looking black button up granny boots. 

She had shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair, and pale green eyes giving testimony to her Irish heritage.  But the rest of her screamed of German ancestry.  Broad shoulders, strong arms and hands, she was easily the physically strongest woman Nan had ever met.  She had a heavy frame, which looked bigger than it was due to a natural bosom that would make those plastic princesses of implants green with envy.  But her queen size carriage never served as a detraction when it came to the male species.  If anything it – or, perhaps it was her attitude – seemed to draw them to her, if the way she always had some man sniffing around her skirts were any indication.  And damn if she wasn't powerful to boot.  She wore her inborn sense of command like a cloak, draping herself completely in it.

Anne had a wicked sense of humor, keen intelligence, a shrewd eye, and a wounding tongue, though she rarely used it on her.  And Nan loved her dearly.  She'd agreed to be their wedding planner, and Nan could think of no other person more fit for the job.  If Anne Pegasus couldn't keep reigns on the rowdy bunch of professional wrestlers in this wedding, then no one could.  She'd even bet that the mighty Vince McMahon would stagger in her presence.  Nan chuckled to herself at the image, looking forward to witnessing that encounter.

Above and beyond all that, Anne was the best seamstress and costume maker that Nan had ever worked with.  She had to stoop a little to embrace her friend.  "How are you, Anne?"

"Oh, honey, if I were any better, they'd have to split me in half to contain it all," she swept a hand around her shop.  "How do you like the new digs?  Bigger than that hole in the wall I had the last time you were in town."

Nan's chocolate gaze swept the myriad of colorful fabrics, clothing, and costumes decorating the shop.  Her eyes stopped at the mannequin in the window.  "Anne, that is positively obscene," she declared with a laugh at the heavily bosomed female mannequin, complete with protruding nipples.  "You need to cover it before Brun has to come down here and get you for disturbing the peace."

Anne made a pshaw sound and casually threw a swath of fabric over the bare-breasted mannequin.  "Sweetie, that isn't obscene.  This is."  With a casual flick of her wrist she flipped up a kilt on a male mannequin, and laughed loudly as Nan's eyes bugged out of her head.

"Oh wouldn't I wouldn't give to meet the man they modeled him after, " Anne grinned wickedly.  She tilted her head to the side.  "Wonder how he'd look in chains…"

"Anne," Nan gurgled a laugh, knowing her friend was all too serious.  "If you start cooing, I'm outta here."

Her friend rolled her eyes, and motioned her back to the table where she was working on a at least an acre of confectioner's white and pearled satin.  It shimmered as she moved it around on the table and looked like to be a replica of a dress that Marie Antoinette would have worn.  She picked up her needle and began to sew beading onto the bodice.  "Honey, please.  He has to have a pulse to make me coo. You find me one that can do that, and I'll marry him.  So what brings you by, sweetie?  Checking up on your brothers' kilts?"

Nan gave a negative headshake, then stopped.  "Kilts?  They're wearing kilts to my wedding?"

"Kilts, tams, sporrans, the whole she-bang.  I did insist on tuxedo jackets, though," Anne grinned with a nod, spearing another pearlescent bead.  "Didn't they tell you?"  At Nan's pole-axed expression, she shook her head.  "Idiot men.  But don't you worry, sweetie.  I'll not let them look like dumb-asses at your wedding.  They'll be as authentic as I can make them."

Breathing a sigh of relief, she explained the first reason for her trek downtown.  "I'm here for two reasons.  One, I need to know if you've got a dress I can wear tonight."

"Casual or formal?"

"Semi-formal.  Hunter's taking me to the Palladium for dinner tonight," she mentioned the newest upscale restaurant in Charlotte.

"And let me guess, you're going back to the War Memorial for Phantom, afterwards, right?"

The War Memorial Theater was part of the Harrell Coliseum complex and currently they were hosting Phantom of the Opera.  Hunter had contacted Audrey Lane, Nan's general manager, and had her hold one of the box seats for them months ago.

Nan sighed, "Oh yeah.  I can't wait.  I've wanted to see that play forever." 

"Mmm-hmm,"  Anne murmured, sewing on yet another bead.  "What's Hunter wearing?"

"Black, what else?  Oh, and a maroon shirt."

Anne laid down the fabric, and came back around the table, motioning for Nan to follow her.  "Good.  What I've got in mind won't clash then."  She led her to the far wall where another mannequin modeled a flame colored sheath that fell in lovely strips of ribbon from mid-thigh to just below the knees.  The fabric was iridescent and changed colors as it moved under Anne's palm.  The colors ranged from blood red, to burnt orange, to a pale gold.  Nan could tell that the ribbons would give the illusion that she were literally on fire. 

"I love it!  My size?"

Anne shrugged.  "Close enough.  Try it on before you leave and I'll make any alterations if I need to.  Though I doubt I will."  She eyed Nan's figure with an expert eye.  "Might want to take it up in the bosom a little.  Give you that how-dare-you-stare-at-anything-but-my-cleavage look that most men can't resist, huh?"

At Nan's agreeing laugh, Anne turned her speculative gaze on her and put her fists on her hips.  "Okay, sweetie, you said one.  One implies two.  So what's the other reason you came to the shop rather than visiting me at home?"

Nan sighed, "I need a favor.  A big one.  Huge.  I know you're busy and you've already agreed to be the wedding planner.  But – "

"Spit it out, Nan."

"I need a dress."

"We just covered that."

Nan shook her head.  "No.  I need a wedding gown.  I've not found anything I like in Greenwich and to be truthful, I've not spent very much time looking.  If you can't do it, then I understand.  And due to our travelling schedule, we'll need help with fittings for the bridesmaid dresses.  Hunter's offered to pay you extra and comp your flights and accommodations if you can come to us for them as the alterations are needed, if any.  Genie and Audrey are here so that won't be a problem.  Then there's Jessie, Madison, and Lindsay.  They're all here or in Charlotte too, but the other attendants are all over the place.  I didn't think about that when I ordered their dresses.  Not to mention that Rebecca will be almost eight months pregnant by that time –"

Anne grinned at her.  "Nan, shut up.  And follow me."

This time Nan followed the shorter woman towards the back of the shop and stopped when they reached a curtained alcove.  Anne placed her hand on the curtain, but didn't open it.  Instead she turned to her friend.  "Your colors are still hunter green and antique gold, right?  Have the dresses come in yet?"

"Yes, to both questions.  Everyone's got theirs already.  I dropped off the junior bridesmaids and flower girls dresses with my folks just yesterday."

"What about the gents?"

"Tuxes…Hunter says he's taking care of that."

"Uh-huh."  Anne grumbled.  "I'm sure they'll need some minor tweaking on the day of, but I can handle that.  Though how he's gonna find tuxes to fit those mountains of muscles, I'll never know.  But one trip to wherever you are should take care of the girls.  And if it doesn't, I can catch you the week before the wedding.  Those guys have got a performance at the Coliseum, right?"

"Yeah, December sixth."

"I'll take a second fitting on the pregnant bridesmaid then, just to be on the safe side.  You tell Hunter, that I'll take him up on that offer, but only if Fiona can come with me," she answered, meaning her nine-year old daughter.

"Of course.  That goes without saying."

"Good, because if she doesn't get to meet the Undertaker, she's never gonna forgive me."

The redhead laughed, wondering what it was about the tall, tattooed, mostly-scary man that enthralled little girls.  Because her niece Jessie had a crush on him too.

Anne smirked.  "I was gonna give this to you as a wedding present anyway.  Was just about to call you and tell you to take back whatever off the rack monstrosity you'd already bought."  She whipped the curtain back.  "You like?"

Nan stood stock-still, her mouth dropping open, at the vision before her.  She raised a shaking hand to touch the delicate fabric.  "Oh, Anne," she breathed, her voice thick with emotion, unable to get anything else out. 

The strawberry-blonde smiled up at her friend, in a rare moment of gentility, as she began to take the dress off the dummy.  "I'll take that as a yes." 

~<>~

After one of those nights
Just like last night
Oh my, what a beautiful thing
Just you and me
Those tangled sheets
Were wrapped around us
Baby, thanks to your love
It was one of those nights that leads
Right to one of those days that leads
Right to one of those nights
When everything's perfect
When you want me
You touch me
You move me       One Of Those Nights – Trace Adkins

October 23, 2004 12:15 a.m. EST
Carriage House – Lyons Cove – Moccasin Gap, NC 

"Remember our bet.  I name my forfeit.  You can watch.  But don't touch."

Nodding, she offered up a silent prayer of thanks that Jack was having so much fun with Pepito at the fiesta en la calle that he'd decided to stay the night with her sister and brother-in-law.  Deciding to drop him off earlier in the day in efforts to bolster his desire to stay with Angela and Ramón, they'd stopped by on their way to dinner, rather than afterwards.  Jack had declared then and there that Pepito was cool and would definitely be sleeping over.  He hugged them both and quickly scampered off with Nan's nephew.  After, of course, telling Nan how purdy she looked, as his Grampa had taught him to do.

She drew her thoughts back on the mouth-watering specimen currently taking off his clothes in front of her.  The black suit jacked he'd worn to the Palladium restaurant where they'd gone for her birthday dinner was the first casualty.  Then the deep maroon shirt, which – oddly enough – made those whiskey eyes pop and look oh so sexy, followed the jacket. 

His chest. 

Oh, God…it was a work of art. 

Just looking at it made her want to touch him, to run her hands slowly up and down with her eyes closed so that nothing got in the way of all the lightly tanned silky skin.  She wanted to thumb those seemingly always-erect nipples, latch on to one, and not let go until his eyes rolled back in his head.  Her mouth watered at the very thought of it.

As if he could read her musings, he tossed his shirt with a casual arrogance onto the chair sitting in the corner of the room.  His eyes latched on to hers, smoldering with a lazy heat that promised to raise up into a roaring inferno.  Thoroughly enjoying having her watch him, he shook his head, those golden strands settling over incredibly broad shoulders, and trailing down his back between his shoulder blades.  She didn't have typically girlie moments very often, but when they did raise their head, they did it with a vengeance.  Her palms itched to run those silken strands through her fingers.  She wanted to rub her face in it, feel it tickle her eyelashes and stroke her cheeks like tiny kisses.  Fighting a building groan, she thrust her hands under her thighs, sitting on them to keep from breaking their bargain until he said she could.  Sometimes she really hated wagering with him.

Her groan broke free into a delicate sigh as he undid his belt.  That was in her personal top ten erotic moments.  The Undoing of the Belt.  It was such a simple act, a prelude to so much.  Fingers specific.  The softest hiss of leather.  Then the button, one handed, and the slow drag of the zipper.

Oh yeah.

He toed off his shoes, and let his dress slacks pool at his feet.  Mmmm, she liked the black silk boxers.  Unable to help it, she let loose a small chuckle.

He raised an eyebrow.  "Not the best time to be laughing at the man you've agreed to spend the rest of your life with."

She withdrew a hand from underneath her leg and waved it dismissive in the air.  "I was just thinking that Boy Scouts could camp under that tent."

He looked down, then slapped his cheeks in both hands, a la Macaulay Culkin, his eyes wide in mocking laughter.  "Oh my God!  What's happening?!  It just keeps growing!"

It might not have been the best time to laugh, but she loved this.  Laughter, love, and the man she adored enjoying it with her.  And they were home.  The world was hers, at least for the moment.  All of her burdens were set outside the door.  Tonight was for fun.  For passion.  For rediscovery.

"Come here."

She stood slowly and crossed the short distance to him.  He'd taken off his socks, and now his hands were at the waistband of his shorts.  She stopped him with a kiss, moving his hands with her own.

"You lose," he whispered sensually, reminding her that the exact wording of their bet had been that she had to keep her hands to herself until he was fully naked. 

"Name your forfeit.  And sweetheart?  I win."  When he didn't argue, she lowered herself along with his underwear, revealing his hard, thick erection.  "For me?" she whispered as she settled her knees on his crumpled pants.

"Baby…" His hand went to her cheek.  He lifted her chin until he was looking deep into her eyes, the wealth of emotion he read there humbling him a bit.  "My God."

She smiled, then turned her attention to the proud beauty before her.  The scent of sex mixed with the flowers Miss Millie had left all around the small house Nan used to live in.  Her thumb dipped in the pearl of moisture, spreading it over the mushroom head.  She tried to think of anything she'd ever touched that was quite a silky, but she couldn't come up with a thing.  Wrapping her fingers around him, she stroked him all the way down, then back up again.

He moaned above her and when she steadied herself with a hand on his hip, she felt him tremble.  Such power.  This man could break her with the barest touch, without even breaking a sweat or giving it any really serious effort.  That he so easily restrained that power that was so innately him was more potent than any aphrodisiac she'd ever read about.  Had to be.

She wanted to feel his blood pulse.  To hear his harsh breath.  The sound of his need.  And she knew of a very certain way to accomplish that.  She leaned forward and ran her tongue in a circle around the head.  Her eyes closed as she let her other senses take over.  He smelled so wonderful.  Clean and spicy.  And then there was that undercurrent, that ozone smell of lust.

Her lips closed over him and she rubbed her tongue on the sensitive underside, waited for his shuddering gasp, for the shiver to run through his body.  And she wondered if he could feel her smile.  Taking him as deeply as she could, she pleasured him, loving this, feeling naked and erotic and aching.  Most men and women, she knew, didn't prize foreplay anymore, thinking only of the end result.  And she felt so terribly sorry for those poor saps.  Hunter wasn't like that.  This man knew how to build anticipation.  And how to let it be enjoy it's building intensity in return.

His hands went to her face, but his touch was light, a gentle caress, following as her head moved back and forth.  She wondered if he was watching her, or if his eyes were closed, his head thrown back, the muscles in his neck straining.

Her own eyes were still shut, but she could tell that if she didn't stop soon, he was going to come.  But it wasn't time yet.  Giving him one last long suck, she sat back.  His hands dropped as he made a small noise that almost could be classified as a whimper.

Saying nothing, she wrapped her hand around his wrist, and he helped lift her back to her feet, laying a steadying hand on her hip, his fingers lightly stroking the flame colored silk of her dress.  Without speaking, he followed her lead and together they walked into the same bathroom where they'd first…ripped down the shower curtain.  Only now, the freestanding claw foot tub was gone.  In its place sat a spa, comfortable for no more than two.

"When did this happen?"

Nan pressed a few buttons.  The engines running the jets were surprisingly quiet.  "After I moved out.  Miss Millie thought it would add to the value of renting out the house."

"But she never rented it, did she?"

She shook her head, smiling.  "No.  She fell in love with the hot tub and decided she'd just keep it here out of the way."  Nan stepped away from the spa, still smiling.  Then she reached for the side zipper on the flame colored sheath she wore, and lowered the zip.  She covered her breasts with one hand while she shrugged out of the single strap on her right shoulder.  Then she dropped her hand, and the silk shimmered, falling to a fiery heap at her feet.

Hunter forgot to breathe a he saw that she was naked.  Totally, completely naked.  Except for her engagement ring, her 'H' necklace, and the fire tinted ankle strapped low heels she'd worn to match the dress.  It was damn fine look, he decided.

She grinned at his distress.  Not a terribly nice thing to do, she knew, but it was too heady to resist.  "Your turn…to watch," she tossed another teasing glance his way as she lifted one leg to place a foot on the edge of the tub. 

With graceful movements, slow enough to be sensual, yet not sleazy, she bent over and unbuckled the tiny ankle straps on her shoe, slid it off her foot, and dropped it to the floor.  Then she repeated the motions with the other foot.

And Hunter had to wonder if a man could die from an erection.

Had to be on the books somewhere.  Blood flow all centering between his legs, leaving none for his heart to beat, or his lungs to pump air had to cause death at some point, right?  Damn if it didn't make sense to him…because he could swear he was dying if his sudden inability to breathe were any indication. 

Hips swaying gently, breast bobbing with her easy motions, she reached the side of the spa which was churning with bubbles and heat.  In a few steps, she was waist deep and sighing with pure bliss.  She sank down, the bubbles jetting into all the right places.  She shifted around until her eyes fluttered shut, and tilted her head back, bringing her breasts bobbing to the surface of the churning water.  She shifted slight to the left and her eyes flew open and she gave a soft, "Oh!"  The surprised look on her face curled into a sultry smile he recognized all too well.

Yup.  Death by hard-on coming right up.

Without realizing he done it, Hunter climbed in, wincing as he settled close to her.  "You're a cruel woman, Nan Elliott."

"Yes, I am."

"You don't have to be so smug about it."

"Why not?  It's fun.  And I so rarely get to see the immediate response to one of my devious plots."

"Exactly what is your devious plot?"

She leaned over and kissed him.  Not a minor kiss either, but deep and full and long.  And that wasn't all.  She touched him again, grasped his erection, and pumped him as she thrust her tongue.  When she was about ready to come herself, she pulled away.  "I'm going to make you forget your own name," she said, her lips very close to his ear.  Then she stuck her tongue there, too.

He turned around to kiss her again, but she wanted to keep up the tension, so she reached for the bottle of chilled champagne she'd set there before they'd left for dinner.  There were glasses, but to hell with them.  She popped the cork and drank from the bottle, and then…moved it…sliding it between her lips.

His mouth was open, his eyes wild.  "You…you…"

She smirked at him.  "I think the word you're looking for is bitch."

He shook his head.  "I'd never call you that."

"Liar," she kissed his forehead, openmouthed with a hint of tongue trailing over a predominant scar.  "But you'd think it."

Hunter chuckled.  "True."

She grinned and moved to replace the bottle.  He took it from her, surprising her by taking a long pull from it, then put the bottle back in its ice bucket.  When he looked at her again, his eyes held mischief.  "You know, two can play at this game."

"Oh?"

He nodded.  And she felt his hand on her thigh.  "Be afraid," he said, his voice a low, sexy growl.  "Be very afraid."

The moment the words left his lips, Nan took them as the challenge that they were, and wrapped her hand back around his cock beneath the churning surface of the water.  Hunter closed his eyes, concentrating on the hot water bubbling against his body instead of Nan's hand.  Which was not easy.

He'd been on the edge for what seemed like hours, and he had to do something about it soon.  He tried to recall the last time he'd been so pent up and was somewhat surprised to realize it had been years.  Since before she moved in with him.  When he was alone, he took care of things himself, and when she was with him, he was usually the one in control, so when he wanted to wrap it up, he wrapped it up.

Normally, he was the one using delaying tactics, taking her to the brink over and over.  He had to admit, though, this turnaround had its good points.  But now it was time to back to the natural order of things.

He took her by the shoulders and pulled her into his arms.  The water made it easy to position her just so.  Neatly between his legs so he could feel her tight nipples rubbing against his chest, so she cradled his cock against her stomach.  Then he kissed her.

She opened her mouth to his questing tongue, then responded almost shyly.  This wasn't the same woman who'd taken him on her knees.  This one had a sweetness and vulnerability that she only showed to him.  Trusting him not to take advantage of that soft underbelly she kept hidden from the rest of the world.  And as usual, whenever that thought hit him with all its weight of responsibility, he felt something primal and protective rise up from deep inside, roaring for all the world to hear that she belonged to him.

Suddenly the water was too hot, the feeling of the bubbles too coarse.  "Come on," he said.  "Let's get out of here."

She stood.  The water cascaded down her body, dripped from her firm nipples and he couldn't help but lean forward and take the hard nub in his mouth.  As his tongue circled the areola, he could feel her get harder, all the little bumps and ridges that surrounded the nipple itself reacted to his caress, and he knew she was getting harder elsewhere.  He wanted to taste that too, but he could when she was under water.  Not without drowning anyway, and that was definitely not on his list of things to do that night.

He let her go, and as he leaned back her fingers caught a lock of his hair, stroking the strands as they slid through her fingers.  Then she climbed out of the spa, and he followed.  There were two large towels, and even though it was chilly now, dripping as they were, she wrapped a towel around him first.

With unexpected tenderness, she dried him, patting and rubbing his back, his chest, then lower.  He felt her shiver and stopped her, folding the towel around her body, hating to hide it, but wanting her comfortable and dry.  He studied her profile for a moment as always finding himself smiling at the high cheekbones, knowing how proud she was of those and her dark eyes being the only outward symbol of her Native American heritage.  But he was drawn to the tiny hint of a cleft in her chin, and that almost button nose.  On impulse, he curled his index finger under her chin and lifted up until he could drop a small kiss on the end of it.

They didn't speak as they moved away from the spa and back towards the master bedroom.  But they did touch.  Her head against the crook of his neck his arm around her shoulders.  He felt her breathe, thought about everything he wanted to do with her.  To her.

Inside the bedroom, he stopped her, and lifted his hands to her hair.  He pulled the clasps free that held that mass up into the knot she'd twisted it into.  In one fell motion, that copper mass tumbled down around her shoulders and his hands as they sank into it, reveling in the way it felt against his skin.  He turned her back against the door that separated the two rooms, kissed her as he grabbed her wrists and lifted them up above her head, allowing the towel to fall to the floor at their feet.

She gasped into his mouth as he pinned her with his body, so tightly he could feel the press of her breasts against his chest, the hollow between her thighs.  Finished with games, he ravished her mouth.

Nan took his punishing kiss and gave it right back.  She pushed her hips against him, rubbed his erection, wishing he would take her, right there up against the door.  She loved being helpless  with him.  Loved the abandon, the complete weight of everything draining away when he completely dominated their love-making.  But as he'd called her only once before, she was his tigress.  And his kitty had claws.  And teeth.

So she bit his lower lip just hard enough to make him jerk.

He backed up, still keeping her hands above her head, pressed against the door.  He stared at her with darkened eyes, his lips curled in a wicked smile.  He said nothing.  Instead, his hands abruptly dropped.  The next thing she knew, she was in his arms and she had to grab his neck as he took her the remainder of the way to the bed.

"Why, Mr. Helmsley," she whispered breathlessly as he laid her down.  "You are full of surprises."

Hunter laughed darkly as he stood up.  She moved to reach for the coverlet, but his voice stopped her.  His tone had dipped down into a voice she normally only heard when he was in the ring, the one that never failed to cause heat to pool up between her thighs.  Sandpaper and silk, thrilling her as much as the challenge in his whiskey gaze.  "No.  Don't cover yourself.  I want to see every inch of you."

She spread herself across the bedspread, lifted her arms until her hands curled around the wood of the headboard, and even as her face heated in a wild blush, she spread her legs and lifted her hips.

His moan turned into a wry chuckle as he climbed onto the bed, right between her spread legs.  "You, my sweet Nanette, are evil.  And, I might add, you have wiles."

"Wiles?"

"A deceitful or seductive manner."

She twisted her lips at him.  "I know what it means.  How can you possibly claim this is deceitful?  I'm offended."

"Like hell you are, you vixen," he smirked at the decidedly un-offended look on her face.  "I say wiles, because you show me facets of yourself that I've never seen before, right before my eyes."

"Is this a good thing?" she asked shyly.

He moved up her body, their skin barely touching.  His heat infused her, his whiskey gaze held her transfixed.  "Oh yeah."

She gasped in each breath, her breasts rising and falling rapidly as he moved in for the kill.  But she still had one trick up her sleeve.  One she knew he loved and couldn't resist.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking them together at the ankles.  Squeezing her thighs, she held him fast.  Then, using his body for leverage, she lifted her hips.  His swollen cock was caught just above her mound, and she rubbed him.  Hard.

"Shit," he whispered.

She laughed at his breathlessness, using all of her muscles to maintain control.  She had him, helpless, even though she never released her hold above her head.

He could tell by the triumph in her eyes that she'd thought she'd won.  He grinned.  She was wrong.  He waited until she could see it too.  "You should know by now never to wrestle with me…."

He took her mouth again, a searing kiss that made her lose her rhythm.  His tongue thrust, filling her.  And then he pushed back, breaking her hold.  Her legs went down to the bed, and he was up on his knees.  He inched up until she couldn't see past him.  He towered above her, but this wasn't anything like her little tease by the spa.  He held her chest down with his thighs, with the weight of his stare.  His hand went to his cock and he stroked himself slowly, from the base to the crown, a quick thumb over the slick, and back down again. 

Hunter was hard and hot, and all she could think of was getting him inside her.  God, she wanted him.  She hadn't felt this…needy excitement…on this level in some time.  She always wanted him, always found him arousing.  But tonight…this was deeper…more acute than it had been since...probably since the night of the Black and White ball in September.  It wasn't just physical, either.  She wasn't the only one with wiles.  She could see his need, his desire, on his stunning face, in his brilliant eyes.

That thought alone made her smile.  Heaven help her but she loved this man. 

"I name my forfeit."  He leaned over, his lips coming close, but not touching hers.  "Don't move.  Keep your hands right where they are until I tell you to let go," he whispered. 

Oh, she would.  Every part of her wanted this, couldn't wait.

He stirred between her thighs once more, and his hands cupped her legs, then lifted them to his shoulders.  He smiled at her with so much arrogance she nearly screamed, and then he thrust inside her, all the way, so deep the whole bed moved, and she did scream.  He stayed there for a minute, dragging in a deep breath, then he withdrew, slowly.

"Come on, Hunter," she panted, knowing she was edging towards danger, but loving every second of it.  Loving that her mind was turned on  as her body.  Loving that he could always bring out her baser side with just a look, a glance, or in this case, one deep, long stroke.  "You can do better than that."

"Better?"

"Show me what you've got."

He laughed, a rich sinful sound.  He slammed back into her, making her cry out again.  Making her eyes drift closed, her back arch and her body tremble.  "Is that what you want?"

She opened her eyes again.  "More…."

"Oh, you're asking for it, baby."

"I'm so scared."  She pulled her head up off the pillow.  "Can't you feel me shaking?"

Hunter shook his head.  "That's not shaking," he whispered.  His tempo changed as he thrust faster, leaning over her so she was almost bent double, his penetration stealing every thought she'd ever had.

"This is shaking," he said, slamming into her harder than he ever had before.

She cried out, gripping the headboard so hard she thought she might rip the bed apart.

"Let go, baby."  His lips were just above hers, causing him almost no effort to steal them again in a deep, brain-melting kiss.

She released the headboard and clawed at his back as her body began the fabulous convulsions of the most intense orgasm she'd ever had.  He tensed, threw his head back, his mouth open in a rafter-shaking roar, shuddered once, then collapsed on her.

"I love you," he panted, raising up on one elbow to look down at her.

Nan smiled gently into his eyes, curling her arms around his shoulders, pulling him back down to rest his head between her breasts.  "I love you too, Hunter." 

~<>~

When I am down and oh my soul so weary
When troubles come and my heart burdened be
Then I am still and wait here in the silence
Until you come and sit a while with me
You raise me up so I can stand on mountains
You raise me up to walk on stormy seas
I am strong when I am on your shoulders
You raise me up to more than I can be
       You Raise Me Up – Celtic Woman

October 23, 5:09 p.m. EST
Boathouse – Lyons Cove – Moccasin Gap, NC 

He found her sitting on the end of the dock.  He stopped just before stepping onto the dock and just watched her.  They'd be leaving, going back to Connecticut, tomorrow.  Then on to the next RAW show.  So this was her last chance at a sunset on this lake for a little while.  And he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't miss it if she could help it.

She had one leg dangling over the end of it, scarlet tipped toes dangling in the water, teasing any fish swimming near by. The other leg was drawn up, her chin resting on her knee as she stared off at the blazing sky as the sun set slowly over Lake Shaconage.  The mountains on the other side of the banks looked like they were on fire between the fall foliage and the setting sun.  Her face was turned towards those mountains, and he knew without seeing her eyes that her gaze was directed at the smoky blue silhouette of the biggest one – Grandfather Mountain – far away in the distance.  He also knew there'd be longing in those gypsy eyes of hers.  Longing mixed with contentment, for she was almost home.

That glorious copper mane was swept to the side, and, hunched as she was, it pooled up on the dock beside her.  Her green T-shirt was riding up in the back, exposing that sweet dip in her spine, just above the curve of her bottom.  A bottom that was barely covered by a shameful pair of Daisy Dukes…complete with holes.  White deck shoes sat beside her on the dock.  And she appeared to be rocking slowly back and forth, lost in whatever thoughts were running around in her brain.  He couldn't help but wonder how often in the future he'd find her sitting in exactly the same place.

"Hunter's Gold is gonna look awfully sweet tearing up the lake this summer, you know."

He chuckled, never failing to be surprised that she just seemed to know whenever he was around.  He'd only fooled her once…and he'd been so angry then…but he wasn't going to think about his stupidity that sent her running from him nearly four months ago.  Hunter toed off his sneakers and strode down the dock, happily taking note that considering all of the repairs and construction they'd have to do before they could move in December, that there was relatively little to be done to the dock and boathouse.  Some landscaping maybe, a coat or two of paint – something not white…and a thorough inspection of those lifts.  But other than that, it was good to go.

He sat down beside her, and she immediately cuddled up against him, settling against his body as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  He lowered his feet into the water and set to moving them lazily back and forth, surprised to find it still relatively warm for this late in the season.  "Happy?"

"Infinitely," she replied softly.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?"

Nan paused, wondering how on earth she could explain to him what was going on inside her.  How she heard almost primitive music in her head whenever she looked at the earth, almost being able to see the history of this land, far back even before the house had been built.  How drawn to it she felt.  How her feet itched to feel the rich soil beneath them.  How much more she loved this place now that it was all hers.  Theirs.  Her name may have been the only one on the deed, but this was to be their home.  No, there was really no way she could convey the depth of longing she'd had for this place. 

So she settled for a simple, "Home," and hoped he'd understand.

He seemed to, for he didn't ask any other questions.  "It is beautiful," he commented looking up at the sky.

"Mmmm," She murmured in agreement.  "Where's Jack?"

"In the main house.  You know he's even picked out his room?"

Nan smiled, even as she felt another chunk of her heart break away at that pronouncement, wishing it would come true.  "Which one?

Hunter yawned.  "That back bedroom on the second floor.  The one right over the master suite."

"Good choice.  It's got a great view of the lake."

Her fiancé nodded.  "I thought so too, but the view isn't exactly why he annexed it as his."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Hunter laughed.  "Get this…he wants it because it's the best place to watch out for pirates.  He's been listening to Miss Millie spin tales for him about all of the pirate activity in this area and it's really sunk in.  That's where he is now, learning all about someone called the River Fox and One-Eyed Pete.  I had no idea North Carolina even had pirates."

She smiled, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.  "She's probably telling him about our notorious river pirates back when they'd barge goods up the Catawba River from Charleston, South Carolina, back in the 1800's.  Lake Shaconage feeds the Catawba.  But we did have our share of the scourge of the seas, too."

"No shit?"

"No shit.  Black Beard.  He was the most famous, but he stayed near the Cape Fear for ocean access.  Matter of fact, they found his ship the Queen Anne's Revenge sunk off the coast of Beaufort's Inlet in 1996.  I'll never forget when Jedi called and told me about it.  He was so excited."

"Jedi?  I thought he was a lawyer."

"He is," she asserted.  "But his passion is archeology."

"Beaufort, huh?"  Hunter mused.  "Isn't that where Linda McMahon's from?"

"So rumor has it."  Nan nodded against him.  "Ironic isn't it?"

Hunter laughed.  "Not really.  I'm not a bit surprised that a McMahon is originally from a pirate town."

She joined him in easy laughter, then lapsed into an easy quiet.  They sat there for some time, watching as the sun continued to go down.  When it was almost set, she whispered, "Hunter?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Thank you."

His only response was to tighten his hold on her and lay his cheek on her head.  It was in that easy silence that he knew he'd made the right decision in buying the house for her.  He was actually even looking forward to moving after the wedding.  Now all he had to do was tell her about Lilly. 

And face his mother.

One last time. 

<End>

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