Title: So Much Time And So Little To Do
Author: Empress
Email: Empress@thewaysideinn.net
Distribution: Empress' Private Library and The Wayside Inn  All others ask first.
Rating: NC17 - thar be sex in this 'un! Times two!
Category: Chapter 29 in the Behind the Scenes series, following Chapter 28 M-O-T-H-E-R Spells Monster.
Characters: A Hunter/Nan story, and anyone else I feel like playing with. And I've never meant that more before than I do now!
Spoilers: Not a damn one! Well, maybe if you've not seen Blade Trinity yet. But if you haven't seen it by now, then you deserved to be spoiled. Slackers!
Warnings: None, unless you happen to be allergic to melodrama and mush (high mush content in this one). And if so - considering you're reading this story? Well then, let's face it. You're fucked anyway.
Summary Quote: I would walk through Hell barefoot to fight by your side. You said it yourself. I'm a forever kind of gal, which means, I'm not ever leaving. You're stuck with me, Champ. For better or worse.
Author's Notes:
1.I'm breaking some of my own rules here…the one about not mixing the reality of the man who plays Triple H with my fiction. But hey, I wasn't the one who told him to go make a movie that the WWE hyped to Mars and back, now was I? I'm ignoring the book he wrote out of ethical concerns and professional courtesy. Isn't that enough?? Also, the answers Triple H gives to the reporter's questions are mostly his own words when asked those same questions, taken from various interviews and reports I've read. So I take no credit for them.
2.And in keeping with that, I'm playing hard with the premiere of Blade Trinity. Yes, I know it wasn't on December 3rd. Yes, I've heard that Wesley Snipes is allegedly no where near as nice as I made him, but remember the definition of fiction?  And while I know that the movie premiere was actually held at Grauman's Chinese Theater, I do know it wasn't covered by Entertainment Tonight. But if I stuck to the reality of it, I'd have to explain Stephanie's presence, and that just ain't gonna happen. Besides, this way I really got to play and have some fun. So I did. Pppppbbbffffffttttttttt!
3.The Hollywood actors and actresses mentioned here actually did go to the premiere. How cool is that, huh?? With the exception of the ET reporter Sylvia Newsome, of course. She's entirely mine.
4.Most if not all of the factual information regarding Yale University and the Commencement described herein is taken from the graduation ceremonies detailed in the 2003 edition of the Yale Bulletin & Calendar. Any content from that site is set apart in italics. Therefore, any incorrect names of buildings, places, and persons are completely my own, and not intended as an insult. As I've never attended a Yale graduation, I have only my own collegiate commencement to draw from. That said, my deepest apologies to any Yale Alumni should the events described not match up to what a real Yale graduation would be like.
5.Parts of Tender Indulgences were used, at the time of the initial writing of this chapter, with the permission of the author.
6.We cover a hell of a lot of ground with this one. So hang on. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.
Feedback: Will write for feedback – and without it, the writing just may stop.
Disclaimer: All wrestling personalities and characters depicted here are property of the WWE and all of their subsidiaries and partners. I do not own them. I do not claim to own them. I make no money on the use of them in this work. I know I'm borrowing them without the permission of the owners. I just hope that should they ever find my insane ramblings, that they'll like what I've written enough not to sue me. Or, tell me to stop. Any and all characters and places not copyrighted by the WWE machine, or those that I've temporarily borrowed from the Hollywood populace, belong to me. I do own them. And I'll play with them to my heart's content. On with the show.

 
Oh I love how you see right to the heart of me
You're a waterfall, washing over me
I'm a thirsty man let me drink you in
Well I am on my way, you're a mountain top
When I reach for you, your love lifts me up
All that I want to be is where you are
       Where You Are - Rascal Flatts

November 29, 2004 3:15 a.m. EST
Embassy Suites - Room 217 - Baltimore, MD 

Her bouts with insomnia seemed to be happening more and more frequently the closer they got to the actual wedding date.  Three days ago she'd run out of her prescription sleeping pills that her shrink friend, as Hunter liked to refer to her old college roommate, had given her.  And simply put, she'd forgotten to get them refilled before she left Connecticut.  Not surprising, really, considering she had enough stress in her life in that exact moment to buckle your typical female. 

Oh, she could get them filled here in Baltimore.  She had the empty bottle with her, and it still had refills left on the scrip.  But for some reason, she couldn't seem to bring herself to call it in to the pharmacy drug chain she used.  Hunter would be furious with her when he found out.  As much as she hated making him mad at her, she just couldn't do it.  And she couldn't explain why she felt the overwhelming sense of dread whenever she reached for the phone to call the drug store.  So she'd not bothered to call them in.  So now she was paying the price. 

Sleepless nights.  Mind numbing, body draining, and brain-mush making insomnia.

But hey, better than taking a stroll down the corridors of the hotel, right?  And as long as she could lie next to him, knowing that with him there, she wouldn't walk in her sleep, she was willing to pay that price.  Hunter would just have to deal with her not doing as he expected her to do this time.

Besides, when had she ever done what was expected of her?  Since when had she ever played by anyone's rules other than her own?  And when was the last time anyone ever accused her of being typical or - God forbid - normal?

"June 16, 1985," she whispered quietly in the dark.  And she made the same vow there in the quiet of the hotel room that she'd made almost twenty years ago.  "Never again."

Nan gave herself a quick shake, refusing to think about that now.  With everything else she'd gone through today, there was no way she was taking that branch of memory lane.  Not tonight.  No sir.

She gave a soft sigh and tried to get comfortable.  If she were doomed to spend the night watching the shadows on the wall dance and change shape, at least she could be comfy while doing it.  A virtual impossibility since her hand was now aching like she'd put it through a plate-glass window.  God, what she wouldn't give for the book she was reading whenever she got the chance.  Burnt Offerings by Laurell K. Hamilton. 

It was times like these that the trials and tribulations of her favorite vampire executioner called to her.  She was dying to find out if Anita had finally gotten her head out of her ass and told the werewolf king Richard to take a sugar-frosted-fuck off the end of Jean-Claude's dick.  Richard was such a damn boy scout that it made her nuts.  She just wanted to slap the taste out of his morally high-grounded mouth.  Plus, the author had just introduced a scarred, golden-haired vampire named Asher that peaked Nan's interest.  Not to mention her libido. 

She grinned.  There was just something about those blonde-haired vamps that set her blood to boiling.  Then the grin faded.  She could turn on the light and it wouldn't disturb her bedmate.  But if she got up to get the book, Hunter would wake up within seconds wanting to know if she were okay.  And after today, he needed his rest.

They didn't discuss the revelations of their visit to Hilltop after they'd left.  They hadn't had the time, truthfully.  Their schedule permitted only enough time to get Lilly ensconced in their home in Greenwich with Dixie, pack for the upcoming trip to Baltimore, and then catch their plane.  They'd checked in later than usual, ordered room service, watched a movie on cable - the first Blade movie ironically enough - and then turned in for an early night. 

Hunter had claimed he was tired.  And she couldn't blame him either.  After all, it wasn't every day a man turned over the family business to his fiancée, fired all of the staff in his family home, evicted his mother, almost murdered said same woman after his fiancée had punched the woman out, and then confessed to killing his brother when they were children. 

They'd had a busy day.

And she didn't believe for a minute that Hunter had killed Erik.  He believed it, obviously, but that was the memory of a five-year-old child.  Sketchy at best.  Yes, Erik had died.  And somehow, Hunter felt responsible.  But he hadn't offered any details and honestly, she'd been so glad of that, she'd not pressed for any either.  It was bad enough that she had visions in her head of a seven-year-old version of her fiancé having his nose broken at his mother's hands when she slung him down the stairs and into the wall.  All for playing ball in the house and breaking some dumb vase. 

No, whatever had happened to Hunter's younger brother wasn't his fault.  Of that, she was certain.  As certain as she was of her own name.  No matter what type of child he'd been, the man he was now, the man she loved, was no killer.  Had he been, her calling his name when he could have finished off his mother wouldn't have stopped him.  And it had.

She glanced over at the slumbering man beside her, smiling softly as she watched him sleep.  And she couldn't help but wonder, considering how their day had gone, what was he dreaming about that put that smile on his face? 

+++++

 

You who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so become yourself
Because the past is just a good bye.
Teach your children well,
Their father's hell did slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picked, the one you'll know by.
Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.
       Teach Your Children - Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

April 22, 2014 4:39 p.m. EST
Lyon's Cove - Front Foyer - Moccasin Gap, NC 

Breathing a heavy sigh borne of pure bone-deep exhaustion, Hunter paused at the front door of his home, after having been on a ridiculously long four-week tour of Europe and parts of Asia.  The first weeks hadn't been so bad.  He'd been excited to be on the road more than just once a week again.  He'd looked forward to the tour…although he'd really wanted his wife with him.  They understood she couldn't just leave their family behind for a month.  It was bad enough that he'd be gone at least that long.  They had to have one parent present, so she stayed behind.  But even still, the first weeks were great…until he called home one night and he'd gotten that sweet little voice, on the phone, the one sniffling and trying so hard not let him hear it, asking, "Daddy, when are you coming home?"

After that, some of the shiny of the tour was rubbed off.  He missed his kids and his wife, but it had been bearable.  As the second week droned on into the third, he started getting tired.  Missing his wife and children even more, and all the chaos that came with them.  By the fourth week, he was snapping at everyone, starting fights, and he'd even made one of the newest Diva's burst into tears.  And that was unheard of from Triple H, WWE's head announcer.  At least from the latest batch of Superstars.  It didn't shock many of the older crew, those former wrestlers who'd stayed on behind the scenes as road agents.  Those men and few women who'd tasted the business end of his hammer more than once.  But the newbies, they didn't know that side of him.

These young kids had heard that he'd once been a complete asshole in the ring, someone nobody wanted to cross…ever.  But they'd never really seen him that way.  Now, some five years after he'd hung up his wrestling boots and picked up a microphone, the new kids in the back saw him as he'd once seen Naitch, Superstar Billy Graham, Arn Anderson, and even Steamboat.  A legend.  A mentor.  A confidant.  And even - God forbid - a role model.  Like it or not, need it or not, want it or not, that's how they saw him.  Heavy responsibility. 

And after making that newest Diva - Strawberry, for God's sake - cry, he'd known it was time for him to go home.  He'd caught an earlier flight after calling his wife, telling her he'd catch a cab from the airport, and finally here he was. 

Home. 

He walked in the front door completely unsuspecting, to that one sanctuary of tranquility and calm in an otherwise hectic life.  That castle.  That harbor safe from the storms of his job.  That bastion of love, caring and understanding, to his loving progeny and his devoted spouse.  He walked in the door exhausted, from a day of sweat and toil that only extended travelling can bring.  He opened the hall closet, hung his coat on the provided hanger, set his suitcases down on the floor, and dropped his keys into the basket on the foyer table.  Shrugging some tension out of his shoulders he walked through the foyer door into the front hall, and the first thing to greet his eyes…was a demon-possessed woman.

"You must do something with your children!"

Hunter stopped dead, staring at his beautifully furious wife.  No hello.  No hi, sweetheart I've missed you.  Not even a hug.  But a you must do something with your children.  Years ago, that would have set him into a rage.  Hell, even six months ago it probably would have pissed him off something fierce.  But at that moment, he was so glad to be home, even in the face of somebody having screwed up badly, that it didn't even budge his anger needle.  In fact, if he hadn't missed her so much, he probably would have said something nasty back to her.

Instead, he put both hands on his wife's shoulders and leaned down, and pressed a light kiss to her lips, trying not to chuckle at the fury on her face.  "I missed you too, baby."

Her dark eyes still popping with wrath, she glared up at him.  "Why the hell do we have five kids?!"

"Because you're as fertile as the Napa Valley and I couldn't say no to you at least twice?"

"Not funny, Hunter."

He grinned mischievously at her, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her up close.  "Sure it was…come on, admit it…a little anyway."  He watched her try to fight a grin and then chuckled.  "See told ya."

"I hate it when you do that."

"No you don't," he laughed outright.  Then something occurred to him.  "Five kids?  What'd Tina do to make you include her in the kid category?"

Nan shook her head, causing that white blaze of hers to fall into her face.  She shoved it back impatiently, pulling away from his embrace.  "We'll talk about Tina later.  I'm more concerned about something else.  Seriously, Hunter, you've got to do something about this."

"What this?  They must have seriously screwed up if they've just become my children.  Because up until now they've been the direct result of the gene pool of your family.  But now they've messed up and they're my kids and I have to do something with them."  He stated, pulling his tie loose and unbuttoning the top two buttons on his dress shirt.

She crossed her arms over her chest.  "Oh, no.  This one is definitely yours."

"What's happened?"

"Someone got suspended from school today, Hunter.  For three days."

His brows drew down into a black scowl.  "Suspended?  For what?"

A smug look crossed her face.  "Fighting.  Using a wrestling move, to be exact."

Hunter's frown turned into a rueful smile.  "No shit?  Did he win?"

Her smirk grew more pronounced.  "Wrong kid."

"You're kidding me."

Nan shook her head.  "Wish I was.  A wrestling move, Hunter.  They can't do this."

Nodding, Hunter sighed.  "I know, baby.  I'll deal with it.  Where are they?"

"Holed up upstairs somewhere.  Plotting an escape, I'm sure."

He grinned as he walked down the hallway to the left of the stairs towards their bedroom, with Nan right behind him.  "That or planning a coupe.  You realize," he said as he stripped off his shirt, and unbuckled his belt, "that they out number us now.  If they ever align forces and stand against us that we're in deep shit."

She smiled, the first genuine one since he'd come in, and took his shirt from him.  "Yeah, but you're used to Texas Tornado matches.  I've got faith in ya, Champ."

Hunter laughed, shimmying out of his pants, passing those to her as well.  "True, but I can't use weapons against my kids.  Although every now and then, the idea does have merit.  God, I need a shower," he groaned, stretching.

"You're gonna make them wait?"

He shrugged, scratching at his arms and stomach.  "Sure.  Let 'em sweat it out a little bit.  It's good for 'em."  At her dubious look he added, "Would you rather I go up there now, kick the door in, tell them to go lay down out in the drive way?  That I'm gonna tie their feet to the bumper of the truck and drag them around the block?  And just so they learn their lesson, I'll get Montgomery to tailgate some?"

Nan laughed.  "You've been hanging around my dad too long."

"Maybe so, but that was his method and you guys turned out okay."  He sank back down on the bed.  "So what's up with Tina?  Do I need to go kick some ass?"

His wife rolled her eyes.  "Honestly Hunter, I wish you'd let that go.  That was over ten years ago.  I thought you were okay with it."

"I am," he affirmed.  "But she's still my little girl too. And it's my goal to never let him forget it.  So what's up?"

"She's pregnant."

Hunter blinked slowly.  "Again."

Nan nodded.  "Again.  Due near the end of November."

"A Turkey baby."  He swore colorfully.  "Jesus, can't those two do anything else?!"

"Apparently not," she smirked at him.  "And you've got no room to talk you know.  You're the one with five kids.  This is only their third."

He ran a hand through his hair.  He loved his stepdaughter to death…her husband…him too.  And then again, well, not so much sometimes.  And sometimes more than others.  But every time they announced another child, all those ugly feelings from so long ago would come rushing back to the top, and every time he'd have to fight them back.  Because to hurt him meant to hurt Tina, and they'd all had enough of that long ago.  He dropped his hands to his lap and looked up at her through his hair.  "How are you holding up?"

She gave him a tight smile.  "I'm fine."

"Liar."

"Okay, so I'm not," she admitted, leaning against the closet door.  "It's just kind of weird knowing that my youngest is going to be only a year older than his nephew or niece.  Not to mention he's got two nephews older than he is."

"That it?"

"I'm in my very early forties, Hunter, and I've already got two grandchildren.  It makes me feel really old."  She shrugged a shoulder.  "But I guess that's what you can expect when you have your first child at fifteen like I did."

Hunter stood up, intending to offer comfort, knowing how much that still bothered her after all these years.  "Baby -"

"No," she shook her head.  "I'm okay.  I love those boys to death and they know it.  And as stupid and as petty as it sounds, I'm just feeling kind of sorry for myself.  I'll be over it shortly and Tina will never know."

He smiled at his wife, already seeing the joy and excitement of her baby having another baby start to grow behind her eyes.  Soon enough she'd be shopping for baby stuff like crazy, buying far more than the kid would ever need.  She'd done it both times before.  Yeah, she'd be over it shortly.  Sooner than he would.  But she was right.  Tina would never know that they both always had a little trepidation every time they mentioned the words new baby in conjunction with her.

He strode over to her, stopping within arm's reach in only his boxers, and held out a hand.  She dropped the clothes on the floor, and stepped into his embrace.  He wrapped her up in his arms, sighing as she laid her cheek against his chest.  They stood that way for a moment before he pulled back and slowly lowered his head, capturing her mouth with his, kissing her in a long, slow, tender, yet thorough kiss that when he pulled back, her cheeks were flushed and his breathing elevated.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," Nan murmured.  "I've missed you."

"Me too," he whispered huskily.  Then his eyes took on a definite gleam.  "Think we can farm the rug rats out to the grandparents tonight?"

Nan shook her head.  "No, they've missed you too much.  Now, tomorrow night is a definite possibility."

Hunter groaned.  "Baby…"

"Sweetheart, I didn't say no to anything…after all, with four kids in the house, we've gotten quite creative over the years.  I'm just saying that we can't run naked through the house and swing from the chandeliers until tomorrow night."  She nibbled on the tip of her index finger, then trailed it down his chest.  "Can't you wait just one night for the roof rattling bellowing to begin?"

He actually pouted playfully at her, and sighed with great exaggeration.  "I suppose so."

"You get a shower, and deal with today's drama.  I'll make some calls and get them packed up for tomorrow."  She glanced back at him over her shoulder.  "I'll even dig out the edible body oils and Naked Twister game that Stacy and John gave us for our anniversary."

He leered at her, dropping his shorts.  "You're on." 

Knowing she was watching, he purposely turned on his heel and strode into the bathroom, all but bursting with laughter at the lusty sigh that followed in his wake.  Fifteen minutes later, after washing the road dust from his body, he dressed in an old black wife-beater that still made Nan's cheeks red, and a pair of black jogging shorts. He was now ready to face whatever his kids could dish out.

Hunter walked up the stairs, listening for the sounds of his progeny, hearing nothing.  The loud thump of music that normally came from his youngest daughter's room was suspiciously absent.  All of the upstairs doors were closed…always a bad sign.  Stopping at the first closed door he came to, he listened.  And from within came the sounds of loud whispering.  The kind only plotting children can seem to achieve.  He knocked only once…loud and hard…opened the door and quickly took stock of the enemy.

His middle daughter was in the center of her canopy bed with a burgundy sheet pulled over her head, and he could tell by the lump that she was hugging on to her old ratty stuffed penguin.  The youngest boy was in the pink painted toy box, his unmistakable green eyes peeping warily at him through the slats.  His oldest son and youngest daughter stood in the middle of the room balancing on their toes looking for all the world like they were ready to take him on. 

His eyes fell on his son, and he had to bite back a chuckle.  Laughing now would not be good.  But he could almost hear the boy's thoughts, his face was so easy to read sometimes.  And he suddenly could hear his voice echoing in his own head, "Fake him to the right!  No, no, fake him to the left!  I'll jump on him!  The rest of you head to the window!  I'll sacrifice myself - go for freedom!"

Hunter schooled his face into a severe mask.  Folding his arms in front of him, he leaned against the doorjamb.  "Out."

Jack stepped forward, just as Hunter had expected he would.  "Dad," he began and got no further.

Hunter held up a palm.  "I don't want to hear it.  Go mow the lawn.  And make sure you get Nanna Lilly's weeds too.  I want the front, and Nanna Lilly's yard completely done by the time your mother has dinner on the table."

His fifteen year-old son's eyes widened, taking in the scope of the size of their yard.  Even at his fastest it would take more than the two and a half hours his father had allowed him.  "But Dad!  That'll take me forever and Pepito and I were supposed to go up to the Roust About after supper tonight!"

"Then I guess you'd better get started, instead of standing here jawin' with me, huh?"

Jack sighed, looking far more dejected than he should have.  "Yes, sir."  He started for the door, then had a thought.  "Can I use the tractor?"

He countered with a question of his own.  "Who's at the roller rink tonight that you wanna see so badly?"

"Chandra," he answered, naming his cousin Pepito's flavor of the week, from what Nan had told him while he was gone.

"And?"

Jack's face flushed.  "Taffy."

Taffy Reindhart, his son's wanna-be girlfriend.  Jesus, he never would figure out people naming their kids after food.  And it wasn't even a nickname.  Rolling his eyes, Hunter sighed.  "Figures."  He really didn't like the girl.  She was  two years older than Jack was, far too polite, and a little too starry eyed whenever she came over to the house.  He had a sneaking suspicion that she was more interested in the Helmsley name itself, and the bank accounts that came with it, rather than the boy who carried it.

His son's voice pulled him back to the issue at hand.  "The tractor, Dad?  Can I?"

Hunter thought it over, watching the figure of his daughter under the sheet begin to tremble.  "Yeah, I suppose."

But Jack wasn't done negotiating.  "How about if I can get Pepito to do Nanna Lilly's weeds?"

"Absolutely not," his father answered.  "I don't want him near a weed-eater or gasoline after what happened last time."  Hunter relented a little seeing the look on his son's face.  "If you can con him into using the electric mower, then yeah, he can help.  But keep anything that could start a fire away from him!"

Grinning brightly, he answered, "Thanks Dad!" and headed for the door, only  to stop and look back over his shoulder.  "Don't be too hard on her, Dad.  She had a good reason.  You're on your own, Snotball!"  And with that he was gone, taking the stairs two and three at a time.

Hunter turned his attention to where his other daughter stood almost defiantly in the middle of her sister's bedroom.  "You have something to say to me?"

The redheaded eight year-old grinned happily up at him.  "I missed you?"

He barked out a laugh.  "Yeah, I'll just bet you did."  He opened his arms and she rushed into them.  He scooped his daughter up, hugging her tightly.  "Missed you too, Giggles.  You got a kiss for your old man?"

Giggling brightly, laying claim to her nickname, she caught both of his cheeks in her hands.  "Daddy, you're silly!"  Then she pressed her lips to his whiskered cheek and blew hard, making a very loud, wet, raspberry sound.  Grinning widely, she pulled back beaming at him.  "All better?"

"Perfect," Hunter smiled back, kissing her cheek.  Then he set her down and guided her towards the hallway.  "Go on downstairs, now."

His daughter pouted up at him.  "Daddy, she didn't-"

"Giggles, this is between me and your sister.  Your mother needs your help with the laundry."  At her pained groan, he added, "Go on now."

Nodding, yet looking concerned, she headed for the door, dragging her feet, taking her time about it.  "And no listening at the door, or you and I will have to have a little talk too, young lady."

That seemed to put some speed in her step.  Her eyes got wide, and she bolted for the stairs.  He watched as she slung one leg up high, and pulled herself up on the banister, twisted herself around, and shot downward on her belly, feet in the air, arms splayed out to the sides.

"Rachel!  Not head first!"  But she was already gone.  "She's gonna give me a heart attack doing that."  Sighing, he turned sternly to the unblinking green orbs staring at him through the toy box slats.  "Come on out of there."

Gradually, the toy box lid lifted, and a dark-haired boy, climbed cautiously out.  He carefully closed the lid and turned, limping slightly to his father.  That's when Hunter noticed the thick white bandages on the little boy's knees just below his shorts.  Immediately Hunter's frown was back. 

"What happened to you, Gizmo?"

"Fell down."  The child raised far too serious eyes to him.  But that was their Joshua for them.  At three  years old he was a very quiet, serious little boy who often acted too much like his oldest sister for his own good.  Far older than his tender years belied.  He looked at Hunter steadfast.  "Am I in trouble?"

"No, Giz, you're not in trouble."

"Sissy?"  He cocked his head to the side in a gesture that was so much like Nan and Tina that Hunter had to smile. 

"We'll see." 

Hunter walked over to kneel in front of his son.  "Let me look?"  At the little boy's nod, he peeled up the edging of the white tape holding down the gauze.  Abraded skin, raw, red, and still slightly bleeding lay beneath both bandages.  Tenderly he smoothed them back down.  "Does it still hurt?"

Joshua nodded his head again, his chubby cheeks flushed.  In truth, he looked more mad than hurt. 

"Can you get down the steps by yourself?"

The little boy shook his head.

"You want Mommy to carry you down?"

Joshua nodded, squeezing his eyes closed, then opening them again, his dark lashes now wet.

"It's okay, buddy."  Hunter picked his son up, and Joshua immediately wrapped his arms around his father's neck and laid his head on his shoulder.  Hunter strode to the door, carrying the little boy to the top of the stairs.  Knowing what was coming, Joshua laid a little hand over his ear. 

"Baby!"  Hunter bellowed.  "Come get Giz!"  He stood there, waiting, comforting the little boy, until Nan climbed up to them.  Hunter passed off his son to his wife.

"Come on, Dumplin'," Nan cooed over the child.  "Let's go downstairs and get you a snack.  You want to help Mommy make some cookies?" 

Joshua nodded then turned to look at Hunter.  "Daddy, you come too."

"I'll be down in a little bit, Giz.  I need to talk to your sissy first."  Once they were gone, Hunter turned and went back into his middle child's room, quietly closing the door behind him.  He sat down in the rocking chair next to her bed.  "You can come out now, Doodle-Bug."

Slowly the burgundy sheet with fairies printed on it lowered, revealing his wife's chocolate eyes set in an angelic face, framed by slightly curling blonde hair.  Those eyes were red-rimmed with tears streaking her face, making her sniff miserably.  Hunter wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and dry those tears, but he had to remain firm, and find out what had happened to make her get suspended from school.

"I hear you had some trouble at school today."  She nodded timidly.  "Wanna tell me what happened?"

She dropped those dark eyes, and plucked nervously at the stuffed penguin in her lap.  "I got into a fight," came the whispered reply.

"So I heard.  Care to tell me why?"

"Myron Watson pushed Joshua down on the playground an' he skint up his knees real bad."

Hunter ground his teeth.  Those Watson kids again.  It seemed as if that family was destined to torment anyone related to his wife.  They'd been doing it since she had been in kindergarten; them and the Crenshaws.  He thought for a moment.  Jack had been right.  His daughter did have a good reason.  Still…"You don't have recess the same time as Gizmo." 

"No sir," she answered not looking up.

Thinking about it, he wanted to know why a fourth-grader was out on the playground with a bunch of pre-school kids in the first place.  The kid couldn't be so stupid that he'd been held back that many times, could he?  Hunter gave a mental shrug.  With that family he wouldn't be surprised.  Looked like he was going to have to give Montgomery a call after all.  "And if I remember right, that Watson kid isn't in your class either."

"No sir."

"Come on, Leah.  Spill it."

She hesitated and took a deep breath.  "Barbara Jo told me," she answered, referring to one of her little friends.  "Her little brother saw it, an' told her an' she told me."

Now he was getting a better picture of what had gone on.  "So you waited until after school, found him, and what?"

She lifted her eyes, now blazing with a fire he recognized…his own.  "I got up on the monkey bars where he was, an' told him not to mess with my little brother anymore.  He called me a nasty name so I kicked him in the face."

Hunter bit back a choke of laughter, unable to help but being proud of his little girl.  "Did he fall?"

Leah shook her head, her hair swirling around her face.  "No sir.  So I pushed him off the bars."

He felt himself losing the battle with his burgeoning grin.  "Then what?"

She tilted her chin up, a proud look on her face.  "I put my foot on his neck an' made him swear to leave Joshua alone."

At least she'd not taken a stick to the kid as her mother had once done to his father, he thought.  But then he really thought about what she said.  Those moves sounded awfully familiar, and Nan had said she'd used a wrestling move to take the kid down.  His eyes narrowed.  "Leah, where'd you learn to do that?"

The proud look drained away.  "Aunt Skye," she whispered miserably, confirming what he'd already suspected.  He'd always known that as far as this daughter was concerned that Stacy could do no wrong in her eyes.  Leah adored her Aunt - the sun rose and set in her.  Still he couldn't quite believe that she'd encourage this.

"Leah Helmsley, I know perfectly well your Aunt Skye would never teach you how to do that.  Not to another kid.  And certainly not one as old as Myron Watson."

"No, sir."

Hunter sat staring at his daughter, the last of the puzzle falling into place.  "You and Rachel have been sneaking into Daddy's office and watching my old wrestling tapes again, haven't you?"

Her face crumbled and the tears started up again, and she nodded, now wailing piteously, the story finally spilling freely.  "We missed you!  An' we just wanted to see you more than just for a little while on Monday night.  So we sneaked in an' watched some of your old tapes.  An' I saw Aunt Sky kick some mean lady in the head an' then choke her with her foot. Rachel an' I tried it until we got it right.  So when Myron called me that name, it just happened, Daddy!  An' now you an' Momma are mad at me an' won't let me go to Massachusetts for Uncle Johnny's birthday party this weekend!" 

She ended on a barrage of genuine tears that just tore Hunter's insides to shreds.  Even in absentia, this was his fault.  With a groan, he reached out to her, and the little girl tumbled into his lap, stuffed penguin and all.  He glared at the toy briefly, never having liked the damn thing since Jericho had given it to Nan nearly fifteen years ago.  But, if it brought his baby comfort, he couldn't hate the damn thing.  No matter how much he wanted to.  Pushing aside the thoughts of his annoying brother-in-law, he rocked slowly back and forth, just holding his daughter until her tears started to abate.  Once her sobbing quieted some, he jostled her enough so that she looked up at him.

"Okay, Doodle-Bug, let's clear the air, huh?"  At her nod, he asked, "Do you know why what you did was wrong?"

"'Cuz I disobeyed you an' Momma by sneakin' into your office?"

Hunter nodded.  "And?"

"An' for takin' up for Joshua?"

"No, not for that.  He's your baby brother.  You should always take up for him.  It's part of your job as a big sister," he explained patiently.

"Then what?"

He tapped the smaller never-been-broken-version of his own nose with an index finger.  "You tell me."

She screwed up her face, giving it serious thought.  "For fightin'?"

"Not quite…keep thinking on it."

The little blonde cherub in his lap fell silent and thought it over some more.  Finally she said, "For doin' one of Aunt Skye's fancy tricks?"

He nodded solemnly, "Exactly.  Leah, you can't ever use something you see me, or any of your Aunts and uncles do on television against anyone else."

"But Rachel says she's gonna.  Jack too."

He grinned at her, hugging her close.  "That's different.  They want to be wrestlers.  But they can't do any of those fancy tricks outside of a ring, or without me or your Uncle Shawn to show them.  And even then not until they're older.  Much older."

"So I can't fight?"

Hunter sighed, never thinking he'd have to have this conversation with his eight-year-old daughter.  Not this one, at least.  "Doodle-Bug, I'll never be mad at you or punish you for defending yourself.  But that's not what you did.  You kicked a boy in the face for calling you a name.  What should you have done?"

"Told a teacher."  Leah said dejectedly, knowing all along that's what she was supposed to have done.  Then her head popped up.  "But he made me so mad!"

"I know, honey.  Believe me I know," Hunter sighed.  "But you still should have told a teacher.  Understand?"

She nodded.  "Yes sir."

"Now about this weekend," Hunter started, looking down into those chocolate eyes.  "I think that your Uncle Johnny will be very upset if you don't come to his birthday party.  In fact, he may even cry."

Her gaze widened, then immediately looked misty.  "I don't want to make Uncle Johnny cry."

"Then I guess that means you'll just have to go with us, huh?"  At her infectious smile, he added, "However, you still disobeyed Momma and me.  So here we go.  You're on restriction for two weeks starting when we get back.  No television, no friends coming over after school, no computer," he looked down into her eyes, bringing them only inches from his own, "and no telephone."

"But Daddy!"

"Nope.  No buts.  Disobeying your mother and me is a very serious thing, young lady."

"Yes sir," she grumbled.  Then a look, too calculating to have come from anyone but him, crossed her face.  "I wasn't the only one who disobeyed."

Hunter grinned.  "I know.  Rachel's on restriction too."

That seemed to pacify her.  At least she wasn't taking the fall by herself.  She looked down and traced the long, faint scar on his left knee and thigh.  "Joshua's gonna have a scar on his knees now too."

"Mmm-hmm.  But not like that one," he answered.  God, please, not ever like that one, he prayed silently.

She looked back up at him.  "Does it still hurt?"

"Sometimes," he answered honestly.

Leah's face pulled down into a scowl just like his.  "I hate it."

"Really?"  Hunter asked.  "I don't."

That confused her.  "How come?"

Hunter smiled and whispered conspiratorially to her.  "Because without what caused that scar, I never would have gotten your mom."

Leah's mouth opened into an exaggerated 'o'.  Then she snapped it shut and snuggled back against her father's chest.  "Oh.  That's okay then." 

+++++

"Hunter.  Hunter?"

Reluctantly, Hunter dragged himself to consciousness.  Peeling his lids back, he blinked against the bedside light that was currently shining in his eyes.  Squinting in the soft glow, he struggled to focus on the woman calling his name.

"Wha -" He cleared his throat and tried again.  "What's wrong, baby?"

"My hand hurts."

The statement was withdrawn, quiet, and almost timid, with a hint of tears behind it.  He reached for her hand, which she extended to him tentatively.  Blinking, he couldn't make what his eyes took in make any sense to his brain.

"I can't get a good look here.  Come on," he instructed, sliding out from under the covers and easing off the hotel mattress.  He slipped into the pair of boxers laying on the floor by the bed as she shrugged into her robe.  He grabbed his smaller bag from the dresser and joined her at the table provided near the drawn drapes.  Flipping on the hanging lamp over their heads, he laid his hand on the tabletop, palm up, and wiggled his fingers.  "Let me look at your knuckles."

Annoyed that she'd gotten hurt because of him, Hunter tried to examine the amount of damage to her hand when she laid it in his.  The skin over the middle knuckle was split and bleeding.  It wasn't a great amount of blood, but it was enough.  The tissue around the other knuckles was scraped and showing signs of serious swelling and promised spectacular bruising.  There were even dark brown spots of dried blood on her hand, and travelling all the way up past her wrist and up her forearm.  He could tell from the spatter that it wasn't her blood.

Hunter bit back a snarl as he got up and stalked into the bathroom.  Presently, he returned with the ice bucket now filled with warm, slightly sudsy water.  "Why didn't you say something earlier?  Or at least clean the blood off?"

Nan lifted an emerald green silk wrapped shoulder and let it fall.  "Didn't think about it.  Other things on my mind at the time."

"Adrenaline finally wore off, huh?"

She nodded.  "Something like that."  She watched as he lifted her hand from the table and placed it in the water, and she hissed.  "Damn but that stings.  She must have a face made out of corrugated metal."  There was no need to define she.  They both knew whom Nan meant, and she'd promised herself after they left Hilltop that she'd never again refer to that woman as his mother.

The corner of Hunter's mouth lifted up in the beginnings of an amused grin.  "You hit her pretty hard, baby."

"She deserved it," Nan announced with determination.  Yet, her voice wobbled a bit, and a flicker of guilt mixed with anger as she glanced up at him.  "This is the part they never tell you about in all of those action movies.  Punching someone really messes up your hand."

Her fiancé nodded.  "Like you said, though.  She deserved it," he replied, lifting her hand from the water.

Nan fell silent as he rubbed a washcloth across the injured appendage.  He saw her eyes water a bit, and he eased his motions, washing the whole arm, removing the last traces of the incident hours earlier.  Gently he dried her arm and hand, wiping it slowly as if it belonged to a small child rather than of a woman who made his blood heat just by the way she looked at him sometimes.  Laying the towel aside, he reached into his kit and pulled out a travel size bottle of peroxide and some cotton swabs.  He held her hand as if it were a paw belonging to a skittish pet and carefully dabbed at the split skin with the peroxide.

Again she hissed, this time flinching like she was going to pull her hand back.  He tightened his grip on her fingers and she stopped.  "Is peroxide supposed to sting this bad?"

"Dunno if it's supposed to or not, but when you've got a cut this deep, it tends to do that."

"Stitches?"  She asked fearfully.

He gave her a quick smile, and shook his head, retrieving a sealed package from the kit.  He held it up for her to see.  "Butterfly bandage.  Flexible too."

She favored him with a watery grin.  "My hero."

Hunter gave a grunt, pulling something else from the bag.  "And don't you forget it."

"Not likely."  Her eyes fell on the tube he was currently unscrewing the cap from.  "What's that?"

"Antibiotic cream with an analgesic.  Should help with the pain some," he said, squeezing a small amount onto the cotton padding of the butterfly tape.  He glanced up at her, placing his thumb and forefinger on either side of her knuckle.  "Now this is probably gonna hurt a little."

Nodding, the redhead took a deep breath.  "And it wouldn't have if I'd taken care of it earlier, I know.  G'head."

Taking her at her word, he pinched the skin together, striving to ignore the small whimper of pain that managed to slip past her tightly closed lips and applied the bandage, sealing the wound.  With small motions, Hunter smoothed the edges of the bandage to ensure the adhesive would stick.  The movements turned into a tender caress that traced the puffy bruised skin gently as his thumbs traveled up the back of her hand, and deep lines appeared on his brow, his mouth turning down into a frown.

"Thank you."

Hunter nodded at the barely whispered comment, his eyes trained on the back of the hand, still held in his.  "You bruise too easily."

Something in his tone made Nan's heart skip a beat and her stomach to take a dip.  Hunter was a man of very few words sometimes.  So when he got that particular sound in his voice, she always made a point of listening with both her ears and her heart.  Not for what he said, necessarily.  But more for what he didn't say.  Because in the middle, usually lay the truth.

"I don't mean to be."

He pursed his lips, thumbs still rubbing the skin on her hand, and gave a half-shrug, that indefinite movement of sinew and muscle that with him meant everything and nothing at the same time.  "Not your fault.  Some people just bruise easier than others do.  Now me, you have to beat me with a broom handle before I get even more than a red mark."

Please God let it be just an exaggeration, she prayed silently.  But she knew in her heart it wasn't and she just knew she was going to be sick.  No, they'd not talked about Hilltop.  But little gems like this had been coming out of his mouth sporadically ever since they'd left Connecticut that afternoon.  First his nose.  Then a casual mention of a dog getting killed, the circumstances around its death ringing suspicious, but no details.  That was followed by a half-murmured statement about needing oral surgery when he was ten that she cringed over not asking about.  Now an obtuse comment about a broom handle. 

It was almost like he couldn't help it.  Couldn't stop it.  Like now that there was a crack in the dam that had held it at bay for all these years, the memories were finding more and more weak spots to punch through.  There was more to come…a lot more.  And she had to wonder just how much of what he said was he actually aware of giving utterance to.

She fought back the rising nausea.  Losing it now would cause him to clam up.  He'd never tell her another thing if she broke now and she knew it had to come out before it ate up what was left of him.  She stuffed her desire to start screaming and not stop back down deep inside.  She'd just have to find a safe place to fall apart later.  When he wasn't there to see it.

"A broom handle," she murmured softly, ignoring the tightening sensation in the vicinity of her lungs, her stomach plunging even further.

"Mmmm," he grunted, confirming nothing.  "You put up with a lot to be with me.  Maybe too much."

Cold fingers gripped her heart and squeezed.  "What are you saying, Hunter?"

"I didn't want this.  You weren't ever supposed to be hurt by my life.  That night…the night I called you from Arkansas and asked you to meet me in Chicago?"  At her mumbled acknowledgement, he finally glanced up at her, but then dropped his eyes back down.  "I promised myself then, that I'd keep you safe from all the ugliness that comes from being close to me.  You don't deserve to be…immersed in that sewer.  But I failed.  I failed to protect you, and you got hurt because of it."

"Sweetheart, I got hurt because I punched Kit in the face and broke her nose.  Not because of anything you did."

"Doesn't matter."  He shook his head.  "I exposed you to her and you got hurt.  That makes it my fault."

Nan was quiet for a moment.  Then something disturbing occurred to her.  "That's why you pushed me away.  Back in Texas, in Shawn's hospital room...that day that Chris asked me out."

"Not only then," he clarified in agreement.  "Baby, I've been pushing you away since the first time I ever saw you.  I knew…I knew that you'd be able to see through all that crap and that you wouldn't stop until you'd clawed your way through it all.  And I'd never be the same again."  A self-derisive laugh slipped from his lips.  "Hell, I wasn't the same even after I spoke to you that first time, and you never knew who I was."

"I knew who you were," she replied softly, intending to remind him of the night they met at Smackdown's premiere.

"No, you didn't."  He lifted his eyes and they were filled with such sadness, it wiped away whatever it was she'd wanted to say.  "The first time I ever saw you, you were in the chapel at the Veteran's hospital.  You were praying.  And crying.  I gave you a tissue.  You called me kind."  And I've not been the same man since, he wanted to add, but found it impossible to form the words.

Her head reeling, clearly remembering that night and the subsequent months afterwards, Nan blinked away tears, and embarrassment.  "That was you?"

"Yeah," he swallowed hard.

She licked her suddenly dry lips, dread gnawing away at her insides.  "Then why did you stop?  Pushing me away, I mean."

"Because," he paused, his breathing slightly elevated.  He rarely, if ever, talked about his feelings and she could only guess at what a confession like this was costing him.  "Because I woke up in the middle of the night one December with you wrapped around me like you belonged there.  It was the first time I could remember in forever that someone was in the room with me who wasn't either pushing me away, or there to hurt me somehow.  I woke up again later, you were gone, and I was alone again…this time for good.  It…changed something…in me.  Then I came back in January.  Everyone seemed happy to see me, some more than others.  But you were the only person I wanted to see, and there you were.  But I didn't know if you wanted me…then you told me you did, and I guess I just sort of lost it.  That's why I kissed you that first time…I decided then that I couldn't let you get away again…unless you wanted to go.  And if you did, I wouldn't try and stop you.  Just like I won't now."

"Hunter," Nan rasped, feeling a part of her die with the question forming on her lips.  "Are you breaking up with me?"

His head popped up, whiskey eyes wide with shock.  "No!  God no.  No, baby, not that."

Feeling her hand shake in his, relief flooding her system and tears now even harder to hold back than before, she asked carefully, "Then what are you trying to tell me?"

"Just that," he sighed.  "Just that it's going to get a lot nastier before it gets better.  There's…I've never talked to, that is, really told anyone…any details…I guess, of what…there's just a lot more that I've not said."

"No one?"

"Outside of my junior-high school guidance counselor, not really.  And even she couldn't handle it."  Hunter looked up at her, his eyes bleak, lying bare his soul to her through those whiskey depths. 

Maybe perhaps for the first time ever, she could see the vulnerability that she'd always known he'd carried locked away from the world.  Actually seen it.  And her heart ached for him.

"I just wanted you to know…before you married me…that you should know exactly what you're getting.  You're a forever kind of gal, and you need to know just what forever entails with me.  That's why I took you to Hilltop.  You deserve the truth, no matter how ugly.  And no matter what the consequences may end up being."

"My God," she murmured.  "You think I'm going to leave you."

He nodded his head, then lowered his eyes again, his shoulders bowing.  "Steph never saw it.  Never cared enough to find out.  She met her, sat in her study, had tea, and never once saw her for what she was.  What she did.  But you did.  You knew without ever having met her."  He gave a bitter laugh.  "But then Steph and I weren't exactly a love match, now were we?"

Nan didn't think she could feel such burning hatred for anyone more than she did Kit.  But at that moment, she hated his ex-wife more than nearly anyone else on the planet.  Any guilt or regret she'd ever harbored in association to her old friend died in that very second.  Steph's machinations as far as she and Hunter were concerned had cost them so deeply, and in ways she'd never begun to imagine.  She'd always known that a lot of Hunter's swagger and arrogance was for show, but she'd never realized just how much.  Nor had she known how much damage his marriage and betrayal by Steph had done to him.  And thereby to them.

"Hunter?"  She waited until he looked up at her.  "I'm not going anywhere.  You're not getting out of us that easily," she spoke softly with a sideways grin at him.

She watched as relief flushed his face, the tension in his shoulders draining away, leaving him looking more relaxed.  Then she added, "I know this whole topic is hard for you.  Probably the hardest conversation you've ever had."

"Oh yeah."

"But I promise you this, sweetheart," she reached out and wrapped her free hand around his.  "I won't press you.  I won't ask questions, and I won't prod.  What I will do is listen if you need to tell me.  Whenever, however, you're ready."

"And if that means I'm never ready?"

She nodded, expecting that might be a possibility.  "Then you're never ready.  And I'm okay with that.  Whatever you need."  She bit her bottom lip for a moment, then plunged ahead.  "The only way that will ever change is if - and I do mean if - what happened to you ever starts to affect any children we have."

"It won't," he vowed immediately, his eyes determined, the set of his jaw firm.  "I swear to God, it won't.  I'll have myself committed first."

"I believe you," she whispered.

He stood up, and held out his hand to her.  Nan took it, and stood up also.  He wrapped his arms around her, and tucked her head under his chin.  "Never gonna leave me, huh?"

"Nope."

"What if I cheated on you?"

She shrugged carelessly, clearly not afraid by his suggestion.  "Then I'd just stick around to make your life as miserable as humanly possible.  And I'm real creative, when I put my mind to it."

He laughed and she could feel him finally smile against her hair.  "I think I just figured something out," he murmured.

"Oh really, now?"

"Yeah," he nodded.  "When Chyna and I went to Hell, I turned to you, even though I pushed you away again.  When Steph and I went to Hell, I still turned to you.  And when Hell kicked you out, I found you sitting on a couch backstage, with Nash hulking over you like some damn protector, and with you looking up at me like you were just waiting for me to come by and pick you back up."

Nan nodded with a small smile against his bare chest.  "Which you did."

"Yeah.  I did.  Didn't I?  But what I've figured out is, maybe if I turn to you now, rather than continue to push you away and being an asshole, then maybe, just maybe neither one of us will have to go through Hell again."  Growling, he crushed her to him, nearly squeezing the breath out of her.  His voice husky and thick with emotion, he said, "I swear to God, I'm not going to let you get away from me this time."

His fiancée snuggled in closer, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle, and mumbled.  "I've got news for you, Hunter."  She pulled back a bit, lifting her face to his so he could see the seriousness there.  "I'd walk though Hell barefoot to fight by your side.  You said it yourself.  I'm a forever kind of gal, which means, I'm not ever leaving.  You're stuck with me, Champ."

"My schedule is open for forever."  Hunter chuckled deeply, his eyes lighting up from within.  He pressed a kiss to her forehead.  "Let's go back to bed."

Nan nodded, trying to suppress a yawn and failing.  It gave her hope that she might actually sleep a little.  "I'm down with that."

As they stripped back down, and slid under the covers, Nan laid on her back and Hunter maneuvered himself until he lay on his belly with one arm pinning her around the waist to the mattress and his head pillowed between her breasts.  Nan pulled up the sheets and blankets until they were covered, her fingers playing lightly with his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

Reaching over, she flipped off the light, plunging the room back into darkness.  Hunter sighed deeply, his breathing evening out, and Nan smiled, recognizing the sound, reminding her of watching him sleep earlier.  "Hunter?"

"Mmm?"

"Before I woke you up, you were smiling.  Why?"

"Dreaming," he replied, his voice now thick with impending slumber.

"Of what?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Our kids," he mumbled sleepily against her skin.  "Gonna have to watch those girls, too.  They're gonna be the death of me."  His breath came out in a sigh.

Biting back the bubble of laughter that rose in her chest, Nan smiled and closed her eyes, marveling at the turns their relationship had taken in a space of mere hours.  Bring the wedding and all of its stressful chaos on.  She was ready for it. 

~<>~

Cold hard bitch
Just a kiss on the lips
And I was on my knees
I'm waiting give me
A cold hard bitch
       Cold Hard Bitch - Jet

November 30, 2004 10:37 p.m. EST
Mariner's First Arena - RAW Backstage - Baltimore, MD 

Hunter raged at his companions in the Evolution locker room.  "Can you believe this?  Can you believe this?!  Can you believe Orton is gonna have me defend the World Heavyweight Championship against both Edge and Benoit?!"

Ric stepped forward, trying to soothe Hunter's frazzled nerves.  "Champ, champ.  Relax.  If anything goes wrong, I got your back!  You know that!  I'm behind you all night, every night!" 

"I know what you can get him for Christmas, hon.  A set of pompoms.  He's a great cheerleader."

"Shhh." 

Hunter nodded at the sixteen-time Champion.  "You got my back."

Ric nodded a gleeful smile on his face.  "Every night!

The World Heavyweight Champion turned to Dave, held out his arms and nodded his head as if to say, "Well?"

Dave gave a short laugh and a calm smile.  "Yeah, I got your back too, man."  As Ric and Hunter turned away, the camera zoomed in on Dave's face, staying there as the easy, calm smile bled away into a calculating, measuring look. 

"You're taking this awfully calmly."

Nan turned away from the monitor in the VIP lounge, where she, Rebecca, Shawn, and John had all been confined to since their arrival at the arena earlier that evening.  On the orders of the General Manager of the night, one Randy Orton.  She spared a glance over to her friend, then returned her gaze to the monitor to find the scene hand changed.  The pseudo-GM was now currently abusing his power out in the middle of the ring and having the new girls, Candice Michelle, Melina, along with Maria, Hemme, and worst of all…Stacy…strip for him, while under the guise of calling it a Lingerie Fashion Show.

"Pig," Nan grumbled.

"Are you listening to me?" Rebecca asked.

"Yes, Beck."

"Then why aren't you pulling your hair out and threatening to eviscerate him or something?"

"I think that part of our evening is aptly covered right now.  Would you rather I follow his example?"  Nan asked with a careless wave of her hand in John's direction.

The young man in question was all but snarling at everyone as he paced the entire circumference of the room.  Over, and over again, pounding his fist into his palm, muttering to himself the entire time.  Of all of them banned from backstage at Randy's insistence, John was taking it the hardest.  And each time another girl stepped up to the sexy music pumping from the speakers, his rumblings grew louder.  Because Stacy was last in line.

"No," Rebecca answered, absently rubbing a hand over her bulging stomach.  Her eyes took in the damages already incurred that evening.  A broken table, overturned plants, and even a hole punched in one of the walls.  "I suppose not."

Suddenly Nan pointed to the monitor.  "Beck!  Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"Orton's reaction to Maria…like she was the last ice cream sandwich on a hot July day.  He's all but got drool running down his chin," Nan pointed out.

Rebecca blinked at her friend.  "So?"

"So," the redhead drawled slowly.  "He's never reacted that blatantly to anyone but," she glanced around and lowered her voice so John wouldn't overhear, "Stacy.  Could have possibilities, don'tcha think?"

The ebony-haired woman paused, thinking over what she'd seen in Stacy and John's apartment between Randy and Tina, and bit at her lip.  "I dunno, Nan.  She's half naked and he is a young man…red-blooded and all that."

Nan waved a hand in the air, dismissing her friend's caution.  "Yeah, but so was Melina and that Candy person.  This was different," she murmured thoughtfully tapping her chin.  "Maybe I need to talk to Maria.  After I get even with Orton, of course."

"Nan, no."

"Don't worry, Beck."  She answered, her eyes still fixed on the monitor as Hemme stepped up to strip.  "I won't do anything Hunter wouldn't do."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Yeah, well Orton's forgotten one important little fact," she pointed out.

"And that would be?"  Rebecca asked.

She turned blazing eyes to her friend.  "Next week Baby Boy's in my building.  Payback's a bitch, and so I am I."  With a sharp nod, she returned her attention to the monitor, where Hemme was now stepping up to Orton.  "God I hate that woman," she snarled.

Sighing, the former Nitro Girl waddled over to where her husband sat watching the monitor, sipping a bottle of water, and plopped down beside him, as gracefully as she could under the circumstances.  Rebecca leaned into her husband's shoulder.  "She's plotting."

Chomping happily on his gum, Shawn grinned.  "Yeah, I know."

"Shawn."

"What?"

She narrowed her eyes at her husband.  "Stop her!"

"Becky, even if I wanted to, which I don't, there's not a hope in this world when that woman gets her mind set on something - especially something as tasty to her as revenge - to get her to change direction."  He shrugged, raised an arm, and dropped it across his wife's shoulders across the back of the leather couch.  He lifted his legs, and propped them on the low coffee table in front of them, crossing his feet at the ankles.  "When she's like this, she's sort of like a really big wave," he explained, knowing his wife would understand the surfing analogy.  "You just hunker down, paddle for all you're worth, and ride it out.  Besides, this could be kind of fun."

"Fun," she snorted, tossing him an irritated glare.  "At least try to calm him down before he does any more damage," she groused

Shawn laughed, his wide grin growing even broader.  "After how Orton showed his tail earlier at their place today?  Heh-heh.  Not a chance."

Silence reigned as all eyes turned to watch Stacy do her little dance, and shimmy seductively out of her clothing.  But when she kissed Randy's cheek, all hell broke loose.  With a bellow of rage worthy of rivaling Hunter, John picked up a lamp from one of the remaining tables and hurled it straight at the concrete wall behind them. 

He turned to go out the door, and Shawn yelled out, "Hold up there, Tex!"

"Shut it, Heartbreak!"

Shawn didn't move from his seat, but turned serious eyes on him.  "You can go out there and start all sorts of trouble.  But if you do, he'll just take it out on her.  And you.  Just like he said he would."

"You can't expect me to stand here after that," he jabbed a finger at the television monitor.  "And not do a fuckin' thing!"

"Sure I can," Shawn replied easily.  "He didn't hurt her.  Didn't do anything to her she doesn't do just about every night she performs.  You're a big boy.  You can handle this like a man."

"That kiss-!"

"Was exactly the same type of kiss she gives me, and Nash, and just about every other man she trusts," Shawn countered.

"Oh, yeah!  Like he's trustworthy!"

"We didn't say he was."  Rebecca added.  "But, she didn't mean anything by that peck."

John glared down at her.  "But he did."

"That's not your problem, now is it?"  Shawn rebutted.  "Know who you are, John."

Frustrated, and feeling completely unable to ride to his girlfriend's aid, he turned to the one person in the room who'd not yet given their two cents.  "And I suppose you agree with them?!"

Nan turned away from the monitor very slowly, and laughed bitterly.  "Fuck no.  I'm just waiting for someone to go out there and annihilate that power drunk prick.  Personally I think you should go out there, gut the sonofabitch, and wear his empty skull as a beanie.  Mount a propeller in it and have a party."

John blinked at her.  "You know, when you and I start seeing things the same way, it's probably time to go outside and start jumping up and down on the lawn.  Because Jesus is about to come back."

She laughed, this time a more pleasant sound.  "No, that'd be when you agreed with Hunter."

The young Smackdown superstar couldn't help but grin at that.  Then he asked deadpan, "Where's your gun?"

"At home.  Sorry."  She sighed.  "I agree with you, John.  He needs his ass-kicked.  In the worst way.  But I also see the wisdom in Shawn and Beck's advice.  If you do it, and most especially tonight, it'll just cause more problems for both you and Stace.  You're gonna have to let this go.  At least for tonight.  Be the bigger man and tell Orton to go take a flying fuck at the moon."

"There's something very wrong with my world when you're the voice of reason."

She shrugged.  "Even a blind squirrel gets a nut sometimes, John."  Nan crossed the distance to where he stood.  She reached out, placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, then looked him dead in the eyes.  A cold, flat, blank look that almost made him want to back up.  "You know what they say about revenge being a dish best served up cold?"

"Yeah," he murmured warily.

A serpentine smile slithered across her face.  "I promise you, that even though you won't be around next week to see it?  I swear to you that I'll make turning Randy's night into a living hell the number one thi