Title: Reparations, Recompenses, and Rediscoveries
Author: Empress
Email: Empress@thewaysideinn.net
Distribution: Empress' Private Library and The Wayside Inn  All others ask first.
Category: Number 27 in the Behind the Scenes series, following number 26 What Happens In Cleveland Stays In Cleveland
Rating: R
Characters: A Hunter/Nan story – along with anyone else that I feel like playing with.
Spoilers: None.
Content: Uhm…fighting and cursing mostly.
Author's Notes: Hey, guess what?! No a numbered sequence this time! Just two small notes – and if ya want 'em numbered, write 'em in yourself. Any and all materials quoted in "Tina's" paper are either written by yours truly or are taken from the clinical definition of subcultures. The one quoted can be found here: Subcultures. Also, parts of Tender Indulgences were used, at the time of the initial writing of this chapter, with the permission of the author.
Feedback: Will write for Feedback.
Summary Quote: You care. And that's a rarity these days. Unfortunately, you care so much, that sometimes you forget that your friends need to fuck up on their own sometimes. You can't protect everyone all the time. And you shouldn't even try for most of us.
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 way am I taking any money for this. 'Cuz if I did that, then that just might give someone the idea that they get to tell me how to write my story.  However, if Vince wants to pay me for it, then of course he can dictate how it goes. But he's the only one, and only if he pays for it. Hey, I never said I couldn't be bought. I just don't come cheap. Point made? Yeah, I thought so too.

 
A friend of mine called up said 'I finally had some luck
Could I have a minute of your time?
I met a girl last night and try as I might
I can't get her off of my mind
She walked through the room and right then I knew
I finally found somebody for me
But to tell you the truth I don't know what to do
Should I go ahead or wait and see?
       No Holding Back – Rod Stewart

November 24, 2004 2:37 p.m.
Casa de Nash – Key Largo, FL 

He sat staring at his telephone, feeling rather disgusted with himself as he allowed such an innocuous bit of machinery dictate his actions.  After all, it wasn't like the damn thing had eyes…and was watching him.

Okay…so it did.

And it was.

The stupid thing did actually have eyes and in the way it sat on the table next to his chair, it was actually looking at him.  It was one of those novelty phones – a duck.  Not as in Daffy, but a real mallard shaped telephone.  Scotty had actually given it to him as some twisted sort of joke that he'd never really gotten.  The damn thing quacked instead of rang.  And it was staring at him.  He didn't like things staring at him.

Call her.

"No."

Call her.

"Are you deaf?  I said no," he grumbled aloud, then rolled his eyes realizing what he was doing.  "Great.  I'm arguing with an electronic duck."

Then shut up and call her.

"I really hate you."  With a pronounced huff, he grabbed up the duck, tuned it over, and began dialing the number written on the creased sticky note he'd been staring at for some time now.  "Gonna run you through a wood-chipper one of these days."

Sure you are.

"Shut up."  He waited patiently as it rang twice and then was answered, grinning at the surly voice on the other end.  "Hey, Squirrel."

…click…

Kevin jerked the mallard way from his ear and stared into one painted eye strangely.  "You bug me for over an hour to call her and then you hang up on us?"

Wasn't me.

"Shut up," he repeated, punching the numbers back in.  Again it rang twice and then was answered.  "Squirrel, I think we got dis–"

…click….

"–connected," he finished lamely.  He ripped the mallard from his ear with a growled, "Not one word."

Wouldn't dream of it.

"Uh-huh," he snarled, turning the telephone over, angrily punching the buttons.  "Gonna use you for kindling, just wait and see."  He listened to it ring.  Three times this time before it was answered and he blurted out, "Genie, don't hang –"

A cackling laugh interrupted his blurted plea.  "Cool your jets, Big D."

Kevin breathed a sigh of relief, then found himself smiling.  "Sorry Miss Millie.  How are you?"

More laughter followed his reaction.  "Oh, I'm just fine, handsome.  But I know damn good and well you didn't call all the way here from wherever you're at just to chat up an old dried up bird like me.  Now, I ain't no genius, but I'm thinking you want to talk to my Genie, huh?"

Kevin chuckled.  "Yes, ma'am.  But I don't think she really wants to talk to me."

"What makes you say that, Big D?"

"She hung up on me twice already. "

Miss Millie grunted.  "Did she now?" without waiting for him to answer, Kevin could hear her do something to muffle her voice, like putting her hand over the mouthpiece, and call to her granddaughter.  "Regina!  You get in here and take this call.  If you hang up on him without saying hello, I swear I'm not too old to turn you over my knee and tan your hide, gal!"

Kevin listened as Genie's familiar low grumbling game closer, then Miss Millie warned, "Act like you've got some manners, gal.  You were raised better."

"Don't lecture me, Grandma."  Genie retorted, but with definite warmth and affection in her tone.  But that same tone was all business, and snarlingly cold as she answered the phone.  "Hello, Kong."

Kevin leaned backward with a wide grin, sinking back into the cushions of his recliner, holding the duck to his ear.  "Hey, Squirrel."

"What can I do for you?"

He gave a shrug.  "I just thought...maybe we should...I dunno.  Talk maybe?"

"About what?"

He felt his grin widen even more at her detached tone, so indicative of her desire to maintain her distance from him.  But he couldn't get their evening together out of his head – or the morning after it.  "Oh, I don't know.  Politics?  Religion?  Sexual proclivities of one-night stands in Cleveland?  The propensity you seem to have of throwing the clothes of your partners over the hotel room balcony the next morning?"

Genie gave a loud sigh, and then her voice came back and it was brittle and icy.  "If that's all you have to say, I think this conversation is over."

"Squirrel, wait."

"What?"

"I just…"

She sighed again at his hesitation.  "I don't have time for this.  It's been nice talking to you."

"Genie wait –"

"Goodbye, Kong."

…click….

This time, Kevin merely set down the duck-phone and stared back at it.  Resignedly, he reached for the phone, and punched in a different number.

"Nan Elliott."

"Hey, Shug."

Nan smiled, and sat down on the floor, setting aside her paint­brush in the nearby paint tray.  "Hey Deez," she greeted him brightly.  "To what do I owe this honor?"

Kevin didn't answer right away, wondering at the echo he could hear behind her voice.  His brows furrowed.  "Shug, where are you?"

"Lyon's cove.  Upstairs.  I'm painting."

He grinned.  "I didn't think the upstairs bedrooms needed anything but another coat of white-wash."  When she didn't answer right way, he frowned.  "What room are you working in, Shug?"

"What does it matter?"

"Okay," he decided to change tactics.  "What color are you painting with?"

She hesitated only briefly, then spoke in a low whisper, "Carolina Blue."

"Shug, you hate Carolina Blue.  Hell, woman.  You damn near blacked my eye the last time I even mentioned Carolina beating State in the playoffs."  He thought for a moment with her continued silence and didn't like the conclusions he was coming to.  "Nan, you're painting Jack's room, aren't you?"

"What if I am, huh?  Alex told us that he could come to visit sometimes.  And it's the room he picked out," she replied petulantly, then fell silent.  He heard her sniff once.  "Deez, he...I..."

"He's fine."

"Don't," she hissed into the phone.  "Don't you dare lie to me."

Kevin sighed, hating that she always seemed to know when he was placating her.  "He's...Shug, he's not good.  He's lost weight.  And he talks about you and Runt constantly whenever he's over here.  And he's got a death grip on that bear dressed like Slim that Cherry Pie gave him."

Nan reached up, and wiped tears off her of cheeks, her dark eyes darting around the pale blue walls with darker wood-grain trim.  "Promise me, Deez.  You swear to me right now that the next time Jack even sets foot in your house just to go pee or something that you call me and let me talk to him."

"Shug," he started.  "I'm afraid it might hurt more than help."

He heard her slam her hand down on the wooden floor as she began to yell.  "Now you listen to me, goddamnit!  That is my son we're talking about and I'll be the one who decides what is and what isn't likely to hurt or help him!"

"Your son?!"  He retorted, nearly coming up off his chair, pressing the duck almost violently into his ear.

"Yes!"  She shouted back.  "My son!"

"Shug," he said angrily.  "How in the blue hell do you think that Jack Chilton is your son?!"

"Hunter 's going to get him for me."

"Where the fuck am I, the Twilight Zone?!"  Kevin roared "Have you been drinking?!  How the fuck is he going to get Jack for you??"

Nan sighed, knowing she probably sounded like an insane person.  "Kevin, Jack is being abused.  Neglected.  His mother is already under investigation for multiple homicides."

"How –"

"Brun," she replied tersely.  Hearing him give a shuddering breath, she plowed ahead.  "Jack's father runs off and leaves him with strangers for months at a time.  Those two don't deserve to have him, and they won't.  Not for much longer.  Hunter and I will see to that."

Kevin couldn't believe what he was hearing.  "Are you still under the care of that shrink friend of yours?  I think you need to give her a call."

"Not funny."

"I wasn't kidding!"  Kevin thundered at the telephone.  "Do you have any idea how insane you sound saying things like 'he's my son,' and 'Hunter's going to get him for me.'  Jesus Christ, Shug!"  He paused to run a hand down his face.  "You're talking about acquiring this kid like he's another piece of property for you to annex like you did when you expanded the coliseum back in ninety-five!  This is a living breathing little boy, for fuck's sake!"

"Don't you think I'm aware of that?!"  She growled into her cell phone, infuriated that he couldn't see or understand what she was doing was for Jack's own good.  "If he says with those people, his abuse is just going to escalate.  He'll go from neglect to, physical abuse, and maybe even worse!  Do you want to see him grow up like Hunter did or worse yet Stacy?!  Is that what you want?"  At his deafening silence she continued on.  "Answer me!"

"No," he finally croaked out, horrible images of miniature versions of his now-adult friends playing out behind his closed eyes.  Shaking his head to rid himself of the sickening thoughts, he answered more clearly.  "No, I don't.  I can't believe you'd even think such a thing.  Hell no!"

"Damn right, hell no, Deez.  If there is anything I can do to help that little boy, then by God I'm gonna do it.  If that means reporting his parents for child abuse, then that's what I'm gonna do.  If by reporting them, that means there's even the slightest chance that he'll get away from those people before they do any more damage, then all the better."  She paused to take a deep breath.  "Yeah, I'm using the Helmsley money and connections to do what I can to get him in my house where I think he'd be best off.  So what?  You would do the same and you know it!"

"You're talking about taking a child away from his father," Kevin pointed out.  "Yeah, Beverly is a genuine candidate for the pretty white jackets that tie in the back.  But Alex is still his father and I can't stand back and say that I'm going to be quiet about this, when I'm suspect of your motivations!"

"I love that little boy, Kevin."  She answered calmly and without heat.  "And to me that means I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure he's safe."

"And if that means he doesn't come to you in the end?"

Nan sighed.  "Then so be it.  As long as he's safe.  That's all that's important."  She paused to let him absorb that, then ask, "Are you going to fight me on this, Deez?"

Kevin's voice was low, but sincere when he finally answered her.  "No, Shug.  I wouldn't do that to Jack.  Or you."

"Thank you," she answered softly, but with another sniff.  "It'll be much easier knowing we've got your support on this when the time comes

"You expecting a big custody battle or something?"

"Dunno," she shrugged, getting up to cross the room and. look out of the bank of windows facing Lake Shaconage.  "I have no idea what to expect really, believe it or not."

"Don't expect Alex to give up his son easily."  Kevin warned.  "I don't know any father who would."

"I think you'd be surprised there, Deez," she contradicted, remembering her only meeting with Jack's father.  "That man didn't even have any physical affection with his son after not seeing him for over a month.  Something weird is going on there, and I intend to do my damnedest to find out what it is."

Kevin thought back for a moment at what he almost told her when he'd called the Cena household from Japan.  He hesitated for a moment, thinking again that maybe he should tell her what he knew.  But he was surprised to hear himself say, "Anything I can do to help, just let me know."

Nan smiled, and Kevin could hear it in her voice, although there was still the distinct wobble of tears in it.  "Have him call me."  She took a shuddering breath.  "I need to talk to him, Deez.  And he needs to talk to me."

Kevin sighed into the duck.  "Okay, Shug.  The next time he comes over, which shouldn't be too long, I'll have him call you."

Nodding with a deep snort, she straightened her shoulders and asked, "So what did you call me for?  Did you need to talk to Hunter?"

"No," he paused.  "I...uhm...Shug, I need to know something."

"What?"

"How to get past this wall of ice and stone Gene's throwing up at me."

Nan started laughing.  "Wall of ice?"  She choked on a chuckle.  "Deez from what I saw – and believe you me, I definitely got an eyeful – she's anything but icy to you."

"Ha-ha."  Kevin rumbled.  "Yeah, there was one point she definitely wasn't cool to me –"

"Spare me the details, okay?"

"But afterwards she kicked me out and threw my clothes over the balcony," he continued, ignoring her interruption.

Nan tried to bite back a chuckle.  "She kept the coat."

"Shug," he growled.

"What'd you do to piss her off so bad, Deez?  Did you fart and hold her head under the covers or something?"

"You're not helping...and if you're going to be this way, I'll –"

"Okay, I'm sorry," Nan rushed to apologize.  "You're just going to have to cut me some slack here, man.  I'm not used to seeing you all in a tizzy about a woman."

"I'm not in a damn tizzy."  He immediately denied. 

She did snort at that.  "Oh really?" 

"Really," he affirmed adamantly.

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured with a thoughtful sound.  "Lemme ask you something, Deez.  How many times did you call her before you called me?"

Once again, Kevin pulled the duck away from his head.  He mouthed the words I hate you at it then lifted it back to his ear to answer her question.  "Three, and before you ask, yeah, she hung up on me all three times."

"And then you called me for advice."  She turned away from the window, and walked back across the empty room to retrieve her paintbrush.  "Sounds like a man preoccupied with a woman if you ask me."

"Are you gonna help me or not?!"

She laughed.  "Hang on."  She left the room to walk out into the hallway to retrieve her headset from her small backpack.  Sliding it over her head, and popping the plug into place, she happily reached for her paintbrush to continue her work on the walls.  "Okay, Deez.  I'm on hands free and I've got unlimited minutes.  So what do you want to know?"

"About Genie?"  Kevin grinned, propped his feet up on his coffee table and made himself comfortable.  "Everything." 

~<>~

As I sit here I'm surrounded,
By these priceless memories.
I don't have to think about it:
There's no place I'd rather be.
Than Carolina or in Georgia,
Smell the Jasmine and Magnolia.
Sleepy sweet home, Alabama,
Roll Tide Roll.
Muddy water, Mississippi,
Blessed Graceland whispers to me.
Carry on, carry on:
Sweet southern comfort,
Carry on, carry on:
Sweet southern comfort, carry on.
       Sweet Southern Comfort – Buddy Jewell

November 24, 2004 3:15 p.m.
Lyon's Cove – Side Yard – Moccasin Gap, NC 

It never failed to amaze her how one simple action, or reaction, decision or indecision, could change the course of someone's life in ways that they'd never even really considered before.  It was never the big decisions that caused the most widespread upheavals.  No, it was always those almost instinctive gut reactions that began like a pebble dropped into a pond.  One little ripple begot another, and another, each growing wider and reaching further with each consecutive ripple until it finally swirled and faded out.  Finally, leaving nothing behind except for the person standing the vortex of these ripples, looking around, and saying – What happened?

Prime example – making the bone deep, gut instinct to do the right thing and stop an atrocity that was being committed.  And what had it gotten her?  The victim was dead anyway, the perpetrator remained unpunished, and she'd gotten her ass blown up – okay, shoulder rather than ass, but the end result was the same.  Drummed out of the service on a medical discharge, her military career flushed completely down the toilet, complete with a Purple Heart and a glowing record behind her, guaranteed to open any door for whatever future job she may want.  Didn't matter that everything written there, from her last two months of service on, was utter bullshit.  Praise to keep her quiet – to buy her silence.  But what her superior officers didn't know was that they didn't have to buy her off to keep her quiet.  That's not a part of her life she was ready to talk about anyway.  Yet.

So, she'd made the right decision, done the right thing, and nothing good had come from it.  The good guys lost, the bad guys went free, and her career was tanked.  And the really sickening part?  She'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Rolling over on her back, placing one hand behind her head, she automatically raised her left arm to do the same, and hissed in pain as the motion caused her right shoulder to pull a lot more than she'd expected.  She gritted her teeth against the sharp lance of pain and lowered it until her palm lay fingers up, the back of her hand against the ground at a little lower than shoulder height.  Breathing easier now that the sharp white-hot feeling in her shoulder had settled to a dull ache, she brought up one leg, laying her bare foot flat against the grass.  Throwing her other leg over the first, she bounced her foot up and down, watching the clouds roll lazily past over head.

She breathed in deeply, savoring the heavily magnolia scented air, wondering if this would be the last time she ever smelled those blooms.  It was really the only part of this place that she liked, those big huge magnolia trees that she used to climb in as a child, have picnics and tea-parties under in the summers, and even swing from the higher branches as a teenager.  She even lost her virginity under that leafy canopy.

Genie gave a rich chuckle, wondering what Nan and her blonde brute of a fiancé would say if they knew that.  Hell, Nan knew when she'd lost it, but just not where.  She closed her eyes as the sun poked its face out from behind a cloud, feeling the tension leaving her limbs, almost making her melt into the grass and soil beneath her.  Her mouth curved into a gentle smile, and she wiggled a bit, thoroughly enjoying the on-going Indian Summer.  She smiled.  The day before Thanksgiving, and it was at least seventy-five degrees.  She loved it. 

Contrary to what most people thought, Iran and Afghanistan this time of year was just as cold, if not more so, as it was on this side of the globe, only worse.  It alternated.  Freezing cold and blistering heat, unrelenting sun and wind, and constant sand.  Genie had loved her time in the military, having served in places such as Okinawa, Japan, Frankfort, Germany, a brief stint in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, Fort Benson, Georgia, Fort Bragg, North Carolina, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and finally Iraq.  And in all her travels, no place felt like home.  Not even Moccasin Gap, though she'd grown up here.

Granted she felt that she came the closet here, but something was missing to make her have that deep sense of contentment that she envied in her redheaded friend.  And she knew she'd never put down roots until she found that place...wherever it may end up being.  And she didn't care where that was.  As long as it didn't involve sand.  At all.  She'd seen enough, felt enough, tasted enough, and had enough sand burned in weird crevices of her body to last he a lifetime.

She might make an exception for somewhere near the beach, because beach sand was different than the kind she was thinking about. Iraqi sand was more like fine dirt and bits of rock.  It'd peel the skin of your bones at ten clicks, leaving you cursing, bleeding, and usually with the great start of one killer infection.  But beach sand was just that…normal sand.  Uncomfortable, yeah, but not deadly.

So, okay.  Her future home could have beach or playground sand.  But it'd better have grass.  And sun.  And a good view of the ocean.  Or lake.  Or whatever.  As long as she was near a body of water.  Yeah, that sounded really good.  And maybe she'd rent a hunky pool-boy to come over, clean her pool, because of course, she'd have one.  No good fantasy was ever complete without one.  And he could scratch whatever itches she may develop.  Her grin deepened at the idea, beginning to formulate an image behind her closed lids.

Yeah...some tall, long legged guy with a killer smile that made her knees turn to jelly. Bluish-greenish-hazel eyes that just gleamed with mischief.  Thick ropes of muscles around his chest and arms.  An ass you could chip a tooth on…blonde haired –

The grin immediately turned down into a scowl.  Brunette, she told herself firmly.  No blondes for her.  Nuh-uh.  Those of that ilk were nothing but trouble...and how he'd ever ended up in her bed, she still wasn't sure.  And now he was calling her.  She sighed.  Nope.  Blondes were nothing but a pain in her ass.

"Lucifer!"  She heard her grandmother screech across the yard.  "Get your sorry hide back here!  Lucifer!  Yushdé'!"

Wait for it, she told herself.

"Doolé!"

"Right on time," she grumbled, rolling back over to her belly, pulling her elbows up underneath her, careful to place the bulk of her weight on her left elbow.  She bent her knees and stuck her bare feet into the air, spitting her ebony hair out of her mouth and eyes.  "Over here!"

Miss Millie didn't bother coming over to where her granddaughter lay enjoying the sun, but rather just yelled across the expanse of green between them.  "Doolé, get that damn cat back over here, would you?"

"Okay, Grandma!"  With a beleaguered sign, she pushed herself to her feet, wiping the grass and dirt off her cut off desert camouflage shorts, smacking at the grass stains on her loose fitting khaki T-shirt.  With another sigh, she looked up at the monstrous house, knowing full well where the cantankerous feline had run off to.

What the hell, she thought.  She needed to talk to Nan anyway.

"Lucifer!  Get back here!"  Genie's cry carried easily across the expansive lawn as she stalked back towards the main house on the recently slate-paved walkway laid down to the two out­buildings on the property on which she'd grown up.  The stones were warm beneath her feet from the sun beaming down on them all day, almost to the point of being uncomfortable, but she sprinted across them lithely. 

She knew where the damn cat had run to, but she'd hoped to get him to come to her without having to chase him back to the only home he'd ever known.  She spotted the corpulent tom cat scamper across the grass around the side of the house near the back, figuring he could find a loose door or an open window somewhere near the back porch.  He stopped half way though, to chew on some tasty blades of green grass.

Genie immediately dropped down to a squat, balancing on the balls of her feet.  She held out one hand, and rubbed her index finger and thumb together in a gesture that always seemed to work for her grandmother.  "Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Come to Genie," she continued to speak softly and soothingly as she inched closer. 

Lucifer looked up and made eye contact with her.

"Come on, Beelzebub."

He raised himself to his feet.

"Good kitty."  Genie said, shuffling a bit closer.

The cat backed up a pace.

"No," she rumbled in warning.  "No, Lucifer.  Come here."

He backed up again.

"Don't make me chase you, you fat bastard.  You'll regret it.  I promise.  Come, you demon possessed cat."

But it wasn't to be.  Lucifer stared at her and then in a streak of white and gold, belying his beefy frame, disappeared around the back of the house.

"Goddamn fucking flea-bitten feline," she grumbled under breath only raise it to a bellow, as she stood up.  "When I get my hands on you, you sonofabitch, I'm gonna turn you inside out and turn you into a fuckin' tennis racket!"

"If you wanted to talk to me that bad, all you had to do was knock," Hunter laughed, sticking his head out of one of the first floor windows close to where she'd been squatting, and scared Genie half out of her skin.  His laughter faded, however, when he saw her face pale and the reflexive scrambling she did for a sidearm that was no longer there.  "Sorry Genie.  Didn't mean to frighten you."

Fighting back a case of shudders, Genie tossed him a half-glare, half-smile.  She shrugged off his concern.  "Not a problem, Game," she answered, using her grandmother's normal manner of address to him "You know what they say, you can take the girl out of the military," she paused, allowing the rest of her meaning to hang between them, almost unconsciously cradling her right arm against her body.

He propped his arms on the windowsill.  "What'd you do in the service?"

Genie's chin came up a notch, and he saw something on her face that he'd never since in the time he'd known here.  Pride with a touch of arrogance, both he was intimately familiar with.  "Military police."

Hunter nodded and the corner of his mouth turned up in a grin.  "Cop. Must run in the family."

"Something like that," Genie smirked back Her gaze lifted to over his head, taking in the changes he'd made to the room inside.  "Purple?"

"Lilac."

Her grin broadened.  "You don't look the lilac type."

Laughing, Hunter held out his right hand.  "Come on."

At the glint of challenge in his eyes, Genie slapped her left hand into his and curled her right arm very loosely around his neck, biting back a wince.  Hunter slipped his free hand around her waist and lifted her from the ground, pulling her through the window and into the room.

"Damn, but you're a strong one," Genie chuckled as he set her back on her feet.

"I work out a lot."

"So I've heard," she murmured absently, looking around the room.

Gone were the floor to ceiling bookshelves that had graced the walls formerly, leaving behind newly hung drywall, half of which was indeed painted an absolutely beautifully soft shade of lilac.  The old carpet had been ripped up, exposing honey colored hardwood floors, and as well as antique looking scrollwork on the moldings. 

"The old library," she almost whispered, her voice was so quiet.

"The new nursery," Hunter commented gently behind her, paint roller clutched securely in one fist.

Genie turned a wicked gleaming smile on him.  "Optimistic shit, ain't ya?"

"Maybe," he agreed with a slightly smug look.  He dipped the roller in the tray, rolled away the excess, and began rolling the paint once again on the walls.  "We've been talking about this for a long time and we decided to actively work on having a family once we get married.  I just didn't see a reason to delay getting a nursery started just in case."

"Makes sense," she commented absently, continuing to look around the room like she'd never seen it before.  "'Sides, the way I hear you two go at it, she'll be pregnant in two weeks."

Hunter laughed.  "Not likely.  She says her father would kill me."

"She's right."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hunter watched her as she walked slowly around the room, and then wandered almost unconsciously into the master bedroom that had once belonged to her grandmother.  He laid down his paint roller back in its tray and followed at a distance.  He tracked her from room to room, listening as she made small sounds under her breath that he couldn't quite make out.  When she stopped at the base of the magnificent staircase, he couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"Genie," he began.  "Are you okay with us moving in here?"

She turned slowly and fixed him with an intense stare.  "Would it matter if weren't?"

"Of course," he affirmed instantly.

Her lips curled up in a disbelieving grin.  "You'd stop your work on this place and cancel the sale to Grandma?"

Hunter took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before he answered, "No, I wouldn't.  The sale's gone through, and Miss Millie's already deposited her payment in the bank.  That money will support her for the rest of her life.  So, no.  I wouldn't renege."  He fixed her with an equally intense glare of his own.  "But I would do whatever I could to make sure that you –"

Her laughter cut him off.  "Well, I'll be damned.  The Game has a heart."

"Only where the people Nan loves are concerned," he fired back. 

"Bullshit."

He winked at her.  "Don't let it get out; it'd ruin my rep."  She held up her right hand, fingertips to shoulder height – the highest she could get them, without losing her breath to pain – and placed her left hand on her chest.  "Swear to God they'll never find out from me."

He chuckled.  "You're good people."

"I used to be," she answered, her grin falling away.  She squared her shoulders.  "I'm good with you guys having this place, Game.  I just wanted to see where your head was at."

"If you listen to Nan, I'm sure she'd tell you that it was up my ass most of the time."

"If you think that," she began, "then you don't know your fiancée worth a damn. "

"What?" he asked, his eyes widely mocking.  "She doesn't talk shit about me behind my back like other guys girlfriends?"

Genie cocked a camo-clad hip against the banister, hooking one thumb in her belt loop.  "You fishin', Game?"

He grinned.  "Maybe."

"I like you."  She matched his grin.  "But go bait that hook somewhere else, This fishin' hole's done gone dry."

Hunter threw his head back and laughed loudly.  "I do love the way you guys talk."

"Y'all," she corrected sassily.

"Nan made me promise to never try to say that again until I lose some of my New England whang, as she puts it."

"And that'll happen when?"

"When hell freezes over," he retorted.

Genie laughed.  "The Blue versus the Grey all over again."  She lifted her eyes up to the second floor.  "Nan upstairs?"

"Yup."

Nodding, she climbed up three of the steps, then stopped, turning back to him.  "If you see that damn cat of Grandma's, do me a favor, would ya?"

Hunter lifted a massive shoulder casually and let it fall again.  "Sure, Genie.  What?"

"Shoot the damn thing," she grumbled, stalking up the stairs, to hunter's laughter resounding below. 

~<>~

I'm so tired of this town
Where every tongue is wagging
When every back is turned
They're telling secrets that should never be revealed
There's nothing to be gained from this
But disaster
Here's a good one
Did you hear about my friend…
       Dirty Little Secret – Sarah McLaughlin

November 24, 2004 4:41 p.m. CST
The Heartbreak Ranch – San Antonio, TX 

Baby hormones were an absolute bitch, she decided.  They made you do all sorts of crazy things that no sane woman would ever consider.  Like waiting until your husband was outside, playing in the pool with your son, so you could snoop through his office.  She knew they'd be gone for at least an hour or two, and that gave her just the amount time she needed.

She hated this.  Absolutely hated it.  But she had this deep, gut-wrenching feeling, that this was the only way she'd get any answers.  She had questions, and no one was talking.  That alone fed her suspicions.  If her friends were all blabbing away like they usually did, she'd not even give it a second thought.  But Nan was claming up, Kevin was in the dark, Skye gave her denials that didn't echo true in her eyes, and Shawn…he wouldn't directly answer a question.

She adored her husband; she really did.  He was everything she'd ever prayed for.  Good looking, intelligent, funny,  sincere, a good husband, great father, and a devout man of faith.  But he wasn't always like that, and he didn't usually talk about that time in his life.  Unfortunately, though, that's the time of his life she needed to know about to get the answers to her questions.

So here she sat, in his office, going through packs of pictures that he'd meticulously organized over the years.  Her husband may be a lot of things, but he had almost an obsession about keeping photographs in their packages, labeled, dated, and complete with negatives.  And for once, she was grateful of it.  She pulled a pack from the file dated September 1 – 12, 1999, and frowned, flipping though it. 

The week of his surgery…when Nan was there right after her fiancé Bobby had died some months earlier.  She stopped sharply at a picture that she'd not been expecting. Nan stared back at her, her head resting on the shoulder of a beaming Chris Jericho, a small stuffed cartoon penguin between them.  She'd completely forgotten about that day.  She'd taken the photo herself – the day Nan and Chris had started dating. 

+++++

 
No matter how hard I try
You keep pushing me aside
And I can't break through
There's no talking to you
It's so sad that you're leaving
It takes time to believe it
But after all is said and done
You're gonna be the lonely one
       Believe - Cher

September 1, 1999 2:12 p.m.
Methodist Hospital – Room 233 – San Antonio, TX 

"How's he doing?"

The quiet whisper from the doorway pulled Rebecca's gaze upward away from the magazine lying open on her lap.  She smiled gently at the look of trepidation on her husband's friend's face.  She waved the visitor inside, glad to have some company. 

"He's sleeping right now, but the nurse will be in shortly to check his pressure or something.  He sat up for a whole two hours this morning.  They're going to check his incision and sit him up again and see how long he can hold it this afternoon.  If he does well, they'll cut back on his meds and talk to us about when we can take him home."

"That's great, Beck."

"Have a seat."  She patted the empty chair next to her.  She watched with concerned eyes as the woman whom her husband had brought home just a few days ago, inched cautiously into the room, and lowered herself into the vacant seat.  The redhead held herself stiffly, still not very comfortable around the other woman.

And with good reason, Rebecca told herself.  After all, it was not every day that your husband brought a woman you didn't even know  to stay for a week or more with no prior notice.  Yes, she knew of her, as she and Shawn had been friends for several years…all the way back to their teenage days.  But Rebecca had never met the woman.  And then to find her curled up in her husband's arms asleep on the couch the morning after her arrival…suffice it to say, there was a tension between the two women.

But Rebecca wasn't heartless.  She didn't believe…now…for a moment that this woman had designs on her husband.  She'd just buried her fiancé in April, after spending years taking care of him through a very debilitating illness.  And well, she'd have to be a complete witch to not feel some sympathy for the woman.  So it was easy to believe it when Shawn had told her that Nan suffered from sleepwalking and nightmares after her fiancé had died, thus explaining their presence together on the couch.  Some would call her terribly gullible and naïve for believing that nothing had happened.  And that was fine with her.  She had to live with herself, not them.

Now she felt better about it, and would give anything to have met this woman under completely different circumstances.  Especially after a call to an old friend had set her straight.  Kevin Nash had never lied to her and he'd encouraged her to befriend the redhead, promising her that she'd not regret it.  She had a feeling though, that irrespective of how they'd begun their tentative friendship, the fledgling bond would strengthen with time and they'd become as close as…well, as close as she and Skye. 

Rebecca smiled to herself, thinking of her blonde friend from her Nitro Girl days.  And her smile deepened, allowing her thoughts to stray at how much fun these two would be to get together with.  Of course, once they'd both healed a bit.  Personally, she couldn't wait.

She turned to her husband's…correction…her friend.  "I thought you were going riding this morning and would be by later." 

Nan shook her head slightly, and hunched over slightly to rub her calf.  "Can't.  Not today."

Rebecca's smile turned into a frown, seeing how the redhead was obviously ill-at-ease in the hospital room, and the way she kept wincing, alternate reaching down to rub at her calf or stretch the denim clad leg out before her.  "Is there anything I can do?  Maybe call a doctor or–"

"No," Nan interrupted harshly then cast an apologetic look at the raven-haired woman.  "Thanks, but no.  It's just a cramp.  It'll pass soon enough.  All a doctor will do is give me meds to knock me stupid and I really don't wanna deal with the ramifications of drugs like those."

"Oh, I don't know," a gruff whisper came from the hospital bed beside them.  "I'm kinda fond of mine."

Both women looked up at him, grins lighting their faces, but his stare was only for his wife.  Rebecca locked eyes with her husband, delighted to see some clarity, and only a little haze of the medication he was on clouding his cobalt gaze. 

"Of course you are," she smiled at him, reaching out and laying a gentle hand on his cheek.  "I would be too if I had two pounds of metal holding my spine together."

He smiled at his wife and turned his eyes to his other visitor, her methodic rubbing of her calf catching his attention.  "Hey Baby doll.  Leg bothering you?"

Nan shrugged, and stretched her leg out again, flexing her ankle, trying to stave off another cramp.  "Nah, nothing I can't handle.  I'll be fine."

"Humph," Shawn grunted.  "You always say that."

"And I'm always fine," Nan countered, a teasing look in her dark eyes.

But Shawn looked at her strangely, not rising to her teasing banter as he usually did.  "Not, always, baby doll.  Not always."

Rebecca found herself pivoting back and forth between the two of them like a spectator at a tennis match.  Although the words were light, and seemingly meaningless, they had a deeper subtext to them, she could tell.  Shawn was saying something important to his friend, reminding her of something, without actually saying anything.  She shook herself, chilled at how easily she read her husband of only five months.  She'd known the man for less than a year, had been married to him for the better portion of that, and still felt like she'd known him all her life.  It was kind of freaky sometimes.

But before she could comment on the weird vibe she was picking up on, the door opened and the nurse and an orderly came in.  "Oh, good, you're awake.  Ready to sit up, Shawn?"

"Melanie, as much as I like being horizontal with these two," he winked again at his wife and friend.  "I'd really rather not do it here.  Know what I mean?"

"Shawn!"  Rebecca gasped, her face flaming, while Nan didn't help matters by bursting out with naughty laughter.

"Come on, Beck," Nan said, still laughing.  "Let's get out of their way."

The two women moved to the opposite end of the room, and chatted softly, both of them keeping one eye on the man in the hospital bed as the nurse and orderly help move him slowly to a sitting position.  In just a few minutes, Shawn went from lying on his side, to sitting up at a relaxed angle in the bed, but he now wore a pinched look around his mouth, and there were beads of sweat on his brow.

"How does that feel, Shawn?"  Melanie asked.

"Ah, hurts," he answered in a short pant.

"Uhm-hum," she murmured, making a note on his chart.  "It should pass in a moment or two."  She turned to Rebecca.  "We're pulling back on his medication.  If his pain doesn't pass, or gets worse, buzz me.  Doctor Youngblood will be in shortly to check on him."

"Understood," she nodded.  "Can I adjust his pillows without hurting the incision?"

"Of course.  Don't fuss over him too much, though.  It spoils a man."  Melanie turned back to Shawn.  "Well now, Show-stoppa, you sit here and enjoy your company for a little while.  Might do you some good and put a little color back in those cheeks."  She pulled her glasses down her nose, and stared at him over the rims.  "And I ain't talkin' about the ones you're sittin' on either."

Shawn mustered a grin as Rebecca helped adjust a pillow behind him.  "If I weren't already married, Melli, you'd find yourself leg-shackled to me fast enough to make your head spin."

The nurse laughed, as she and the orderly left the room.  "Honey, you'd die of exhaustion the first week!"

Laughing weakly, Shawn turned tired eyes on his wife, and they blazed up with emotion, watching as she smoothed over his blankets, readjusting here, tucking there.  "Leave them off."

Nodding, his wife pulled them back down, but left the sheet in place.

Shawn pushed at it.  "I'm hot, Becky."

She glanced up, a naughty smile curving her generous mouth.  "I know you are, honey.  But this isn't Playgirl.  Keep it covered, okay?"

Slowly Shawn slid his gaze over to the redhead leaning against the wall, and grinned at her.  "See why I married her now?  She's sassy."

Nan's grin brightened into a full smile.  She returned his wink.  "Sassy enough to keep you in line, I'll wager."

"I'll take that bet," a new voice called from the doorway.

Shawn's face broke into a broad laughing smile.  "Hey Hunt!  Come on in!"

Hunter grinned widely through the crack he'd made in the doorway, spying his friend sitting up in the hospital bed, and his wife perched cozily on the edge of the mattress down near the footboard.  "Feel up to some company, Heartbreak?"

"You know it," Shawn grinned, his eyes darting back and forth between his best friend and the redhead the other man had yet to see, as Hunter came into the room.

The moment he'd crossed the threshold, allowing the big door to swing closed behind him, he spotted the copper-haired beauty leaning against the far wall.  Nan straightened up the moment Hunter walked into the room, and when he swung those whiskey eyes of his towards her, his leonine mane flowing gently with his movements, she felt herself flooded with warmth.  And a smile lit her face.  She knew she was grinning like an idiot, but she just couldn't help it.

Uncharacteristically, he was thrown off kilter, not expecting to see her there.  His eyes widened; his mouth dropped open, and he actually almost staggered a bit, he was so surprised to see her.  "Nan."  Hunter swallowed hard.  "Hi."

"Hey Hunter," Nan spoke almost shyly. 

"Good to see you again," he smiled at her.  "How are you?"

She lifted a slight shoulder, shoving her thumbs down into the back pockets of her jeans, causing her ample bosom to thrust forward just a bit more.  "Better, thanks."

Rebecca almost laughed aloud at the look on Hunter's face as his eyes dipped briefly to her chest, then practically flew back up to her face.  Anytime the mighty Triple H could be caught off guard was a moment to be reveled in, Rebecca thought perversely.  Not that she didn't like him, because she did.  It was just that he was always so together, for lack of a better word, that she just loved little moments like this when he absolutely lost some of his precious control for a moment.

Then her eyes strayed to Nan and her breath caught in her throat.  She was glowing.  Not that insane rabid fan look that brightened the eyes and cheeks of most women who met the blonde wrestler, but that soft glow from inside that only comes from a woman when she's got it bad for a man.  Her eyes were lit up and glittering, her cheeks awash in soft color and she was giving the big man a smile that Rebecca had never seen before.  Okay, so she'd only known the woman for five days.  Still, five days was a long time to go without smiling.

"Becky, you're staring."

Her husband's voice came to her, whispered so lowly that she doubted the other two people could hear him.  Then again, a bomb could go off in the hallway, and she doubted that they'd hear that either.  Surreptitiously, she slid from the foot of Shawn's bed up to the chair where she'd previously sat, her eyes never leaving the couple across the room as they stared at each other.  "I can't help it, Shawn.  I've never seen him so –" she trailed off looking to him for understanding.

"Smitten?"  Shawn grinned, obviously enjoying himself.  "Yeah, it is kinda revolting isn't it?"

"I think it's sweet.  But Shawn, isn't he a little too much for her right now?"

Shawn shook his head slightly, making sure to keep his voice low enough that they wouldn't overhear.  "Not at all.  Don't let her demure behavior fool you.  She's been through the wringer lately so you're not seeing her at full strength.  She's more than capable of handling him.  Even at his worst."

"If you say so, though I have my doubts."

"I don't."  He grinned at her, and reached down to take her hand in his.  "I'm as sure of them as I was of us."

Rebecca smiled sweetly at her husband and kissed him gently.  "You're such a romantic soul, Shawn Michaels."

He was about to reply when he heard Nan ask, "So, Chyna didn't come with you?"

"Yeah, Hunt," Shawn piped up.  "Where is she?"

Hunter cast a dark glance at the man lying in the bed, knowing he knew full well where the lady wrestler was, since he'd just told him the day before his surgery.  "She…ah…moved out a few days ago.  It's not common knowledge in the company yet, since we've still got to work together.  But a few people do know."

Shawn's grin just broadened.  "Awww…you two crazy kids broke up?  That's too bad."

"Shawn, don't be mean," Nan jumped in, unwittingly defending the blonde by her side.  "The man's just broken up with his girlfriend.  Show some compassion won't you?"  She turned back to Hunter, looking up into his surprised face.  "Sorry about that.  I'm sure he doesn't mean to be a dick," she threw an ugly glance at him, then lifted her eyes back up Hunter's.  "I just don't think he can help it sometimes."

"Told you."  Shawn murmured out of the corner of his mouth at his wife, who only nodded, her eyes lighting up with the possibilities between these two.

"Knock-knock?  Is this a private party or can anyone come by and pass on well wishes?"  The door opened to reveal Chris Jericho, a newcomer to the WWF family, only recently joined in July.  But by taking on The Rock on his first night out, Y2J was a rapidly rising star in the company.

Rebecca immediately stood up to embrace her friend from her WCW days.  "Hey, Lionheart." she greeted warmly, genuinely happy to see him.

Chris returned the hug, then stepped back.  "Thanks Whisper."  He looked over to Shawn who sat, not exactly scowling at the younger man, but not welcoming him with open arms either.  "Hey HBK.  You're looking good.  Glad to see you sitting up."

Shawn nodded at him.  "Thanks Jericho.  It's good to be semi-upright."  He tossed a glance over at Hunter who just shrugged.

Chris turned at Shawn's look, surprised to see two other people in the room.  "Triple H."

"Jericho."

The shorter blonde's eyes fell on the redhead standing beside Hunter.  He knew that the current WWE Champion had recently been dating Chyna.  Although there'd been some rumors floating around that they'd split, and if the rumors were true, they were keeping it quiet for whatever reasons.  So he couldn't help but wonder who the redhead was.  He stepped forward holding out his hand.  "Hi.  Chris Jericho."

She slipped her fingers into his.  "Nan Elliott.  Nice to meet you Chris."

He smiled widely, shaking her hand.  "You a friend of Whisper's?"

Nan grinned.  "Yeah, recently though.  But I've known Shawn for…" She looked over at her friend, tugging her hand free with only minor resistance.  "How long is it now?"

He saw the devilish sparkle in her eyes and mirrored it back at her, much to the confusion of the others in the room.  But, they were used to the two of them acting weird, claiming it came from years of friendship.  "Fourteen years.  Two months ago.  And about ten miles from here."

She grinned at him.  "You remembered."

"I'll never forget it.  You made quite an impression."

Silence settled around the room as Shawn and Nan continued to smile at each other.  Rebecca stuck her hand in the air.  "Uhm…hello?  Other people in the universe."

Shawn laughed, breaking the spell.  "Sorry, darlin'.  I forget you guys weren't there.  I met Nan at the pool on the base."

"I can see where that'd be memorable," Chris commented, his eyes gleaming.

A low rumble came from Hunter, but Shawn's voice drowned it out.  "It was.  She pushed her cousin into the deep end."

Rebecca frowned.  "Okay…not such a big deal."

"He was fully clothed at the time," Nan announced.

"I stand corrected.  Very big deal," the former Nitro Girl amended with low laughter.

The door opened again, and with the arrival of Dr. Youngblood, Shawn's surgeon, came in and swept the room.  "Well, this is quite a gathering you have here, Shawn.  How're you feeling today?"

"Pretty good, Doc.  A little stiff and plenty sore, but otherwise, not bad."

The doctor nodded.  "Good, good.  I need to check your incision and I really don't think you want your friends here for that, now do you?"

"Get out, guys.  Unless ya just wanna see me in my skivvies."

"We've already seen that," Hunter and Chris spoke at the same time.

Rebecca coughed, smothering a laugh.  "I do hope you're referring to the locker room."

"Don't go there, Whisper," Chris grinned at her, while Hunter just growled.  Something he'd done quite a bit of since Jericho had come into the room.

"Don't mind me.  I've seen it too," Nan answered with a grin, which widened at the looks tossed her way.  "What?  I've got the infamous issue of Playgirl…and it's not like he doesn't drop his pants at every available opportunity, now is it?"

"Okay, okay."  Shawn laughed.  "Then get out unless you wanna see 'em drain nasty lookin' and smellin' stuff from my back and then change the dressing."

"That worked," Chris chuckled, mimicking vomiting. 

Hunter held up a hand.  "That's enough for me."  He turned to Nan with a question in his eyes and on his lips, but Chris beat him to it.

"Say, Nan," Chris began.  "Care to go get a cup of coffee or something?"

Before she answered, Nan's gaze slid over to where Hunter stood now frowning at them both.  Her dark brown eyes were wide and full of questions, none of which would be answered that day.  Hunter stared at her for a moment, then slowly lowered his gaze, turning away.

"Hunter," Shawn hissed, knowing what his friend was about to do.

"What?"  The blonde tossed back, challenge clearly in the air.

Shawn stared at him then set his jaw.  "Nothing."

Chris looked from Shawn to Hunter to Nan and then back again.  "Hey, if I've tread on toes here –"

"No."  Hunter practically barked.  "Not at all."  He turned his face to stare out of the window.

Rebecca almost cried out at the look of pain that washed over Nan's face briefly as the weight of Hunter's rejection slammed into her.  But almost instantaneously it was gone, and she pasted on a bright smile, and turned those dark, but shuttered eyes, back on to Chris.

"Coffee sounds great, Chris."

"And maybe a sandwich or something," the young blonde wrestler added with a smile, hoping to ease some of the tension in the room.

Nan shrugged.  "Maybe.  Though I have to admit, I've lost my appetite."

"So, we'll be back in what, Doc?"  Chris looked up at Dr. Youngblood.  "An hour?"

The doctor nodded.  "That should be plenty of time."

"That's not necessary," Shawn spoke up with a hard voice.  "You two go out and have a good time.  Matter of fact, Baby Doll?  Take him back to the ranch and you two go riding, or swimming,  or something."  He turned cold hard eyes on Hunter.  "No telling when you two will get to see each other again and I don't see a point in everyone wasting this beautiful day."

Hunter didn't see him, still focused as he was on the scenery outside the hospital room window.  But Rebecca could tell by the stiffening of the man's shoulders and spine that he heard every word.

Chris, sensing the weird tension suddenly filling the room again, simply wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.  "Uh, yeah.  Thanks HBK.  That sounds really nice.  Ready to go, Nan?"

She nodded.  "Yeah.  I'll see you back at the ranch, Beck."  She crossed the room to hug Shawn and kiss his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Baby Doll," he whispered.

"Don't.  It wasn't meant to be," she whispered back sadly.  "I'm sure Chris is a very nice man."  Standing, she cast one last longing gaze at the angry looking wrestler leaning against the wall.  "See you around, Hunter."

He turned flat eyes to her and said stiffly,  "Goodbye, Nan."

Straightening her shoulders, the redhead walked over to where Chris waited for her beside the door, his blue eyes dancing, and an infectious grin on his face.  She couldn't help but grin back.  She slid her fingers around the elbow he crooked out for her and they left the room.

"Come on, Hunter," Rebecca offered sympathetically.  "I'll buy you a juice in the gift shop."

Still looking angry and now disgusted with himself, Hunter shoved away from the wall and fell into step beside her.

"You're a damn idiot, you know that, right?!"  Rebecca heard her husband call out as she and Hunter left the room.

"He didn't mean that," Rebecca spoke gently as they moved down the hall towards the gift shop.

Hunter shook his head.  "Yeah, he did." 

He looked like he would say something more, but his gaze zeroed in on a movement ahead of them, and he came to a complete standstill.  Rebecca's eyes followed his, falling on Nan standing with Chris just inside the gift shop, laughing at something the blonde was saying to her, while he danced a small stuffed penguin in front of him.  Presently, he scooped up another toy, this time an orange cat with its tongue lolling out to one side, and mimicked an odd dance between the two famous cartoon characters.  Nan's laughter abounded and she laid her hand on Chris' arm, the other wiping at her eyes.  Both Rebecca and Hunter watched as Chris used the opportunity to slip an arm around the redhead's waist and draw her just a little closer to him.

Abruptly, Hunter turned away, much as he had in Shawn's hospital room, unwilling to observe whatever may come next.  Without a word, he began walking in the opposite direction.  Rebecca had to jog a few steps to catch up with him. 

"Hey, Hunter.  Slow down."  Rebecca swung around in front of him, and wasn't at all surprised to see that he wasn't focused on anything.  Acting on impulse, she steered him to the waiting area right outside of the gift shop, and pressed him down onto one of the couches.  She sat down on the table in front of him.  She'd only known this big blonde giant of a man for a little less than she'd known Shawn.  But she'd immediately taken a liking to her husband's best friend, and she didn't like to see something so obviously bothering him.

"Talk to me," she ordered gently.

"What's to talk about, Beck?"  He shrugged, looking down at the floor rather than at her.

Rebecca smothered a grin at his shortened usage of her name.  He'd always called her either Rebecca or Whisper.  Never 'Beck.'  But let him hear it just once from her new redheaded friend, and it seemed she was forever branded as Beck to both of them.  "Nan."

"What about her?"

"Oh, don't play ignorant, Hunter.  It doesn't suit you."  She frowned at him.  "Why didn't you say anything when Chris asked her out?"

"He wasn't askin' me out on a date, Beck."

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

"Yes!"

"No," Hunter disagreed.  "I don't think I do.  Spell it out for me."

"You like her," she pointed out.

He didn't deny that.  He even went so far as to nod.  "Yeah.  I like her.  She seems like a nice girl.  A little sad maybe."

"She's got reason to be."

"Don't we all," he murmured, looking back down at the floor.

Ignoring that, Rebecca plunged ahead with her original train of thought.  "You like her.  You're attracted to her.  She's attracted to you.  So why didn't you say something…anything…"

"What would you have had me say, Beck?  Huh?  Oh, don't go out with Jerky there, Nan because Mrs. Michaels here thinks we'd make a cute couple."  He sneered the last, finally showing some emotion rather than the mechanical coldness he'd displayed since the moment Chris had asked Nan out on a date.

"I never said anything about you two making a cute couple."  Rebecca didn't even bother to hide her grin.  "You added that all on your own, Hunter.  Sounds like you've given the matter some thought, huh?"

"Okay, so I'm attracted to her.  So what?"  He threw his hands in the air, exasperated with her incessant questioning.  "That doesn't mean she's interested in me."

Never in her life had she so badly wanted to kick a man in the head.  But she was seriously giving consideration to doing it right here, right now.  "She lit up when you came into the room, Hunter."

"You need to get your eyes checked, Beck."

"I saw it," she insisted.  "If that's not a sign she's interested in you, then I'm completely ignorant when it comes to men and women."

Hunter snorted at that.  "Ignorant when it comes to men and women?  You?  That's a laugh.  You're the one who landed and branded the Heartbreak Kid within a month of meeting him."

"Then don't argue with me about whether or not she's interested in you.  She is," Rebecca vowed firmly.

"Doesn't matter," Hunter huffed, raking a hand through his hair.  "Even if it were true – and it's not," he said pointedly, "It doesn't matter.  She's going out with Jericho now.  Right now, point in fact."

"Hunt –"  But Rebecca chopped off her words as a movement caught her eye.

He glanced up in time to see the woman in question and her new suitor walk past them towards the elevators, the penguin from the gift shop now clutched tightly in the redhead's arms.  They never noticed the couple seated in the waiting area.  Hunter's eyes followed the petite copper-haired woman. 

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he whispered so lowly that Rebecca almost didn't catch it.

Rebecca's mouth dropped open, and she quickly closed it with a snap.  That was the same thing Shawn had said about her, according to Kevin, when he'd first seen her dance on Nitro.  Rebecca turned speculative eyes on the short redhead where she stood smiling at Chris Jericho.  She'd not given her new friend's looks much thought, other than to think she looked exhausted.  And she still did, Rebecca thought, sweeping her up and down with a critical eye.

 While Rebecca was no lover of women, she also wasn't shallow minded enough to not admit that a woman was attractive or had a nice body.  Attractive, yes.  Stunning, that was a good word for her friend.  Yet that was when she was at her best, according to pictures she'd seen.  Very different than she was today. Right now?  Pretty.  Dressed as she was, and without any make-up at all, she definitely qualified for pretty.  But not beautiful. 

With hair the color of a new penny tumbling down past her waist, the barest ends curling gently under, she definitely caught her share of looks cast her way.  Her expressive slightly almond shaped dark eyes added a hint of mystery to her.  She didn't have either a model or a dancer's body, being too short and relatively compact.  But she did have rich curves that most men would find appealing, with a naturally well endowed bosom and nicely rounded hips.  Standing at only five foot six – while by no means short in the norm, yet the WWF wasn't exactly the norm – she was even small enough to make an average height wrestler feel big and protective around her. 

She wasn't dressed to impress, wearing a simple black Pink Floyd T-shirt, its ends tucked up and tied into a knot at her hip.  On her feet were black knee-high moccasins boots that had definitely seen better days.  Acid washed jeans, ripped at both knees, and enclosing relatively short legs, disappeared into the tops of the moccasins.  Her legs, while nicely shaped, weren't exactly a hundred percent.  One of them Rebecca knew was bad, and by the way she was standing, it was bothering her again.  Although you couldn't tell it in her face.  That made Rebecca smile, remembering how the cramps that had plagued Nan since she'd shown up earlier seemed to just go away while Hunter had been in the room.  Now they were back, and the redhead was ignoring them.  And not too convincingly, either.

But today, she hadn't looked beautiful.  Today, she had looked tired.  Sad.  And a little bit lost.  At least, she had until Hunter had walked in.

"Beautiful, huh?"

"God yes," he affirmed, again, not realizing he was speaking aloud.  Then Chris laughed deeply at something Nan said to him, prompting a growled, "I really hate that sonofabitch."

Rebecca's lips curved into a smile, liking the admiration and touch of awe she had heard in the big blonde's voice when he spoke of her redheaded friend.  And the anger and jealousy wasn't a bad start either.  Maybe Shawn was right.  Maybe, now that she was done grieving, she'd be just what Hunter needed.  After all, he did know Hunter and Nan better than she did.

Hunter and Nan. 

She rolled that phrase around silently in her mouth, liking the taste of it.  But her smile turned into a frown as Hunter spoke again.

"She doesn't deserve someone like me."

Had that exact phrase been said in the wrestling ring, it would have had a completely different tone and meaning.  She would have expected to hear it then, accompanied by his normal arrogant stance and mocking smirk.  But none of that was present now.  He looked dejected, almost mournful, and worst of all, resigned. 

"Why don't," she paused, searching for the right words.  "Why don't you let her decide that for herself?"

"Meaning what," Hunter asked absently, his eyes still glued to the redhead as she allowed Jericho to usher inside the elevator.  The young WWF superstar followed suit, and advanced on her as the doors closed with a soft hiss. 

"Meaning, you're not with Chyna anymore, and unless you're not telling me something, you're also not seeing anyone else," Rebecca clarified.  "Hunter, she only agreed to go have coffee with the man, not marry him.  Ask her out yourself, and let her decide if she deserves you or not."

Hunter turned slowly back to face his best friend's wife.  He gave her a half-smile.  "Beck, I love ya like you were my own sister – if I had one, that is.  You know that.  But  you don't know me a quarter as well as you think you do.  I've done things that would make you turn away in disgust and even try and revoke me being that baby's godfather," he said calmly, pointing at her just barely starting to plump-up abdomen.  "So you're gonna have to trust me on this one.  While yeah, she's a beautiful woman – inside and out – she's had enough pain in the last few years of her life to ever deserve getting hooked up with someone like me.  She comes from a good family.  One that loves her."

"Is that what this is about?  Your parents?"

"Parent," he clarified, then smiled fondly.  "Dad's great."

Rebecca pursed her lips in frustration.  "Okay, your mother then."

Hunter turned burning eyes on his friend's wife.  His look was so intense, that she almost felt the need to back away.  "The subject…of my mother…is not…open…for discussion."  His words were cold, clipped, and vibrating with hatred and wrath.  And deeper, underneath that?  Pain.

This time Rebecca did visibly shrink away from the face of his rage.  She had no idea what to say.  But fortunately, she didn't have to find out.