Welcome to my nightmare,
Welcome to my breakdown,
I hope I didn't scare you.
That's just the way we are,
When you come down!
We sweat, laugh, and scream here,
Cause a laugh is just a dream here,
You know inside you feel right at home.
Yeah, welcome to my breakdown, Ohhhh...
Welcome to my nightmare, Yeahhhh...
       Welcome To My Nightmare – Alice Cooper

December 15, 2004 4:23 a.m.
Master Bedroom – Lyon's Cove – Moccasin Gap, NC   

It was her wedding day…and she should be happy, right?  But she wasn't.  She wasn't happy.  She was hot.  And itchy.  And even a little sick to her stomach, feeling almost as if she'd taken a sharp blow there a few days previous, leaving only the echoes of the ache behind.  She tugged at the starched collar on her wedding dress, struggling to ignore the irritating stinging of sweat begin to trickle down between her shoulder blades under the hot satin of the gown.  An annoying buzzing filled her ears, as she turned a deaf ear to the ramblings of the preacher standing before her and her intended.  Because until he got to the part where she actually had to say something, she didn't want to waste what little energy she had on paying attention to him. 

No, she was too busy trying to keep from throwing up all down her front.  And…to keep her eyes on the tips of the white high heels peeping out from the bottom of her bell-shaped gown…so she wouldn't have to look at the faces of the people who crowded around them.  She didn't want to see the judgment or censure in their eyes.  Or the anger.  The condemnation.  The hate. 

She frowned.  Something was wrong about the way her dress looked.  She stared hard at it, willing her mind to puzzle it out.  Then it hit her.  Her dress was the wrong color. 

"Nanette, repeat after me."  The preacher intoned ominously.  "I, Nanette –"

"It's not supposed to be white," she murmured softly under her breath. "It's the wrong color."

"Oh for the love of GOD, Sweets!  Who gives a rat's ass what color your dress is?!  This isn't about the color of your damn dress!"  Chris' voice called scathingly to her.  "It's about telling the truth!"

"Don't waste your breath, lover," Rosie scoffed as she leaned into his shoulder, turning angry eyes on her.  "She wouldn't know the truth if it bit her on the arse. First you lie to Chris, and now my brother.  When are you gonna tell him the truth, Nan?  Better yet, were you ever planning on telling him?"

"Telling him what truth?" Nan cried, her stomach twisting in knots.  "I don't understand."

"And that's the sad part.  You really don't," a new voice joined into the conversation.

Startled, she looked over to see Kevin leaning up against the church wall, his elbows propped on the ledge of the stain-glassed window behind him.  And he was as naked as the day he was born, save for a large potted poinsettia positioned perfectly in front of his crotch. 

Rolling her eyes, at the redhead, Audrey snorted, propping her elbow on Oz's shoulder where he calmly cleaned his fingernails with the point of a very large wicked looking knife.  "Yeah, you may as well get on with it so we can go home, Nan.  I mean, it's not like your marriage is gonna last anyway.  I give it, what?"  She looked up at Oz.  "A month?  That sound good to you?"

"Yeah.  A month sounds about right.  She always did have shitty taste in men," Genie answered her before Oz could. 

The bodyguard chuckled, nodding.  "You should see some of the shit I dug up on her when I first signed on."

"Eh, we wouldn't be surprised.  We know what a rotten person she can be.  Especially when it comes to getting what she wants.  And bossy?  Jesus!  Yup, she's not happy unless she's controlling the lives of everyone around her."  Dressed from head to toe in Army fatigues, Genie slung her M16 semi-automatic rifle over her shoulder by the strap, and calmly began plucking petals off the poinsettia.  "He loves me; he loves me not.  He loves me; he loves me not." 

"Not even other people's kids are safe," Kevin agreed, shifting the pot so Genie had more petals to pull from.

"Don't let her take me, Mommy!"

Rebecca patted her son on the head where he leaned up against his mother's legs.  "That's okay, baby.  She's not going to take you away from your parents…" she looked up, her dark eyes flickering with righteous anger, "…like she's doing with Jack.  And I'd appreciate it if you'd leave my husband alone, too."

"Nettie, how could you?"

She turned to see her niece waving a piece of paper at her.  "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I – I wanted to, but – I couldn't," Nan choked out in a whisper.

Dave curled Tina into the shelter of his arms.  "You lying bitch!   How could you do this to your own daughter?!"

Tina shook her head against his jacket, "She's not my mother.  Not now.  Not ever."

"Tina –"

"Nanette," the preacher's irritated voice called again.  "Your vows.  We're waiting."

Swallowing hard, she turned from the disturbing sight and trained her eyes back on the minister.  Hesitantly, she stammered out, "I, Nanette, take thee Shawn –" She stopped and shook her head.  "No, why did I say that?  That's not right…"

More feeling the sudden silence in the church than actually hearing it, she turned to where the heaviest of stares stabbed at her skin.  Immediately her eyes fell on the malicious smirk of her former best friend, resting comfortably in the arms of a man whose face she couldn't quite see. 

The brunette snorted, rolling her grey eyes back over her left shoulder.  "See what I mean?  She just can't help herself.  It's sad really, when you think about it."

The man holding on to her nodded, his face tipping into the light so that she could see him.  "You're right, Steph.  But then again, you always were right about her.  Just wish I'd seen it sooner."

"John?"  Nan whispered, stunned to see the two of them together.  "What about Stacy?"

The Smackdown superstar shrugged, and just cuddled Stephanie closer to him, as her hand came up to cup his cheek to hers in blatant affection.  "What about her?"  John asked.  "She's got exactly what she's always wanted.  What she's always deserved."

Alarmed, she looked over to her Maid of Honor.  But her words died on her lips, all of the blood running from her face to pool chillingly in the pit of her stomach.  Her blonde-haired friend stood, not under her own power, but dangling precariously between two male silhouettes, their hands gripping her arms so tightly that she could see the bruises already beginning to form on her pale skin.  One fisted his hand in her hair and jerked her head up so Nan could see the swollen jaw, the blackened eyes, the blood running in a steady stream down her chin, splashing onto the dark material of her bridesmaid dress, leaving an obscene blackened stain over her heart. 

"What –"

The shadows chuckled malevolently, a sound so evil that it raised the hairs on the back of her neck.  One growled out, "We warned her.  If she ever told anyone anything, we'd cut her tongue out."

The other leaned in to nuzzle at the side of her neck, then unexpectedly bit down, wringing a gurgling scream from the helpless woman so firmly trapped between them.  Laughing the other shadow ripped his mouth away and gave her a bloody smile, the only color to be seen in his otherwise blackened face.  "Now she'll never talk again."

Horrified, she stepped back from the gruesome visage.  Knowing only that she had to get away, to get out, to get help, anything, she turned to run.  She was brought up short by an arm made of pure steel shooting out and cinching tightly around her waist, hauling her up against a very solid chest, a feeling she knew well.  Instantly, she relaxed.  He would help.  He would put a stop to this.  He would make everything all right again.

But instead of hearing comforting words of love and tenderness, a voice not quite right echoed through her skull, making her blood run cold.

"You're not going anywhere," he hissed.

She exploded in his grip, shrieking, kicking, and scratching at him to get away.  Striking out with the back of her head, simultaneously, she stomped the heel of her shoe down on his foot and the bands around her waist slackened enough for her to wriggle away.   But she didn't make it far.  He grabbed her hand, wrenching her fingers in his grip, wringing a pained cry from her lips as she felt the bones grind and crack as they had so long ago.

Pain raced up her arm and into her shoulder as he twisted it behind her, exerting tremendous pressure, using his hold to turn her around so she faced him.  He fisted his fingers into her hair and jerked it sideways, straining the muscles in her neck, causing her to cry out again. 

Then the voice changed back to the one she loved most in the world, "Calm down, baby.  I'm right here."  But the tight grip on her hand didn't lessen.  In fact, it intensified.

In pain, and horrified at the thought that the man she would gladly give up her life for would do physical harm to her, she began to sob in earnest.  Confused, she cried, "Hunter, why are you doing this?!"

Ignoring the tears now streaming down her cheeks, he forced her to look up at him. "We're going to finish what we started!" 

She raised agony and tear-filled eyes to his, and felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. The face looking back down at her with hate rolling off him in waves, didn't belong to her fiancé. Brown met cobalt blue and she immediately began screaming, while the sound of Stephanie's laughter echoed in her ears.  

~<>~

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day
       Morning Has Broken – Cat Stevens

December 15, 2004 4:53 a.m.
Upstairs Bedroom – Lyon's Cove – Moccasin Gap, NC   

Shawn came awake with a jerk that left him gasping for breath, his heart pounding frantically in his chest.  Glancing frantically around the room, he struggled to get his bearings, his pulse slowing a bit when his brain registered the comforting presence of his wife, sleeping deeply beside him.  He groaned, running both hands through his hair, and one down his face, trying to rid his mind of the scream echoing through it. 

Why now, he thought silently.  He hadn't dreamed of those pitiful sounds in years.  Yet they still gave him shivers and that icy sick feeling whenever he heard them, just as they had when he'd heard them in person, over twenty years ago.  Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he wondered vaguely if he'd ever purge them from his memories, yet at the same time, he already had his answer.  No, he wouldn't.  Not until his own desire for justice was either satisfied, or he was delivered from it…whichever came first.  And at this point, he thought looking at the ridiculous hour on the bedside clock, he'd gladly take either option.

With a deep sigh, he punched his pillow and started to lay back down when a far off sound caught his ear, his blood immediately running cold when he recognized it.  Damn it, he hadn't dreamed it after all.

As stealthily as he could manage it, Shawn slid from the bed, pausing to turn his pillow sideways, so that if Rebecca leaned backwards against him, as she often did with her pregnancy in its late stages, that she'd find some support there rather than just an empty mattress.  Quietly, he left the room, pausing only to look in on Cameron in the top bunk of Jack's lofted beds.  Satisfied that his son was sound asleep and he'd not been awakened by the eerie sound, Shawn continued his trek down the massive staircase of the antebellum home.

Not really knowing where to look first, he doubled back down the hallway at the base of the steps and cautiously approached the master bedroom, disconcerted to see the door ajar.  Knowing that this would be a futile stop on his search, he still had to check.  He poked his head inside, seeing exactly what he had expected to see, the sight that had made him leave his bed in the wee hours of the morning. 

Hunter lay still fully clothed on top of the covers of his bed, mouth wide open, one bare foot flat on the floor, and one arm thrown out to his side, fingers lax on the empty sheets beside him.  Still inebriated from the night before, Hunter slept the sleep that only the very drunk ever knew, leaving no doubt in Shawn's mind that he'd not heard his fiancée's screams, and even if he had, he would have been in no condition to calm the distraught woman.  As low as her sounds of fright had been, considering they'd not awoken Rebecca, Lilly, Kevin, or Cam, they should have woken Hunter.  They'd only woken him because that pitiful sound was burned into his memories, and he'd give anything to scour them from his brain.  Should have or not, they hadn't woken Hunter.  Because he was drunk.  And it was his fault for not stopping the Undertaker sooner.

Turning away from his friend's room, Shawn gave a sigh, and began the search of the lower floor of the huge home, praying he found her before she managed to get outside.  Because if she did that, he might never find her.  And, he thought humorlessly, he had no idea if he were looking for an asleep or an awake woman.  Either way, if her sounds had been any indication, she would be dangerous when he found her.

Deciding a methodical search was best, he started back up the hall and worked towards the front of the house, ducking his head into each door along the way.  He finally found her in her office, curled up into one of the window seats, one of her swords on her lap, and a wicked looking dagger clenched in both fists.  She had her face turned away from him, staring out into the night, her nose nearly touching the cold pane of glass, eyes wide and mumbling softly as she rocked back and forth. Her dachshund Dixie lay on the Wake Forest University throw at her feet, growling softly at the three kittens swatting her fanned tail.

While the image of the animals nearly made him smile, the look on Nan's face stopped him.  It was a look he would have given anything to never have seen again.  And it rocketed him back in time, making him once again feel like that helpless eighteen-year-old kid who thought he had all the answers, only to find that someone had changed all of the questions. 

He shook himself roughly.  That was a long time ago.  And he was a grown man now, more than capable of dealing with this, when he hadn't been some twenty years in the past.  "Baby Doll?  Can I come in?"

She turned sharply, her face in stark white contrast to the soft yellow glow of the floor lamp beside her.  Her eyes were wide and held a depth of horror that clenched his chest in a vice of his own pain.  Nan stared at him unseeing for a moment, fighting violent shudders and the overwhelming urge to both throw up and to start screaming again.

He looked like he'd just climbed out of bed, his feet bare, plaid pajama bottoms riding low on lean hips, bare-chested, brownish blonde hair laying in tumbled waves around his shoulders.  She blinked at him, and the image didn't waver.  It took her a moment, but after continued staring, it finally broke through the cloud of terror fogging her mind that it might actually be Shawn standing in the doorway to her office.  It certainly sounded like him.   Still, she had to be sure.  After all, she had been fooled once before. 

"Sh-Shawn?"

"Yeah," he ran his hand over his hair, fluffing it out in an absent-minded movement of nerves, to lay curled around his bare shoulders.  "It's me."

She exhaled sharply at the gesture…one she recognized as uniquely Shawn.  He stayed in the doorway until she nodded at him, indicating that it was okay for him to approach her.  He stopped a few feet from her.  "Mind if I join you?"

Nan didn't answer, but instead, shifted her dagger to one hand, and lifted the sword from her lap, then twisted a bit to make some room for him on the cushion.  Shawn settled down on the padded seat beside her, and laced his fingers into a fist, wresting his wrists on his thigh.  He didn't protest over the weaponry that she held, for he knew why she had it.  Instead, he looked at the way she cradled her left wrist in her lap, after laying the bastard sword back across her thighs. 

"Bad dreams again," He asked finally.

"Yeah."

He breathed out heavily then said, "I'd ask what about, but the way you're holding your hand already tells me the answer to that question."

She didn't deny it, or feign ignorance.  Instead her eyes filled with tears, one spilling over before she whispered softly, "Yeah."

Shawn chewed on his bottom lip for a moment then held out a hand.  "Let me have the dagger, Baby Doll.  Nothing's going to get you here."

She made a small sound.  "Promise?"

"Yeah," he whispered huskily, continuing to hold out his hand.  "I promise."

After a tense pause, she passed the dagger to him.  He rummaged around on the window seat for a moment and retrieved the sheath, slid it home with a snap, then set it on a low shelf of the open curio cabinet to his right.  He turned cobalt eyes on her, and she passed over the sword without cue or complaint.  Instead of getting up to hang it back in its proper place, he merely leaned across her to brace it against the wall, point down, close to her right side, so it would be within hands reach should she feel the need for it.  He fought a grin.  Some girls had a security blanket, a special teddy bear, a toy, or something from their childhood that they held on to that made them feel safe. 

Not his Baby Doll.  Nothing child-like for her.  No, she had a two-foot bastard sword with a razor sharp edge that practically sung when she sliced it through the air.

He looked back at her.  "Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Sure?  It might make you feel better."

She shook her head.  "I can't keep running to you whenever things go wrong for me, Shawn."

His brow furrowed.  "Says who?"

Nan lifted a shoulder and let it fall, then absently began plucking at the blue material of her tank top.  "Doesn't matter.  I still can't do it."

Shawn pursed his lips, thinking.  "Hunter."  Nan didn't answer and Shawn shook his head.  "Don't bother answering.  That's who it was.  Baby Doll, we're friends.  And that's what friends do when they're freaked out, or scared, or whatever."

"Maybe so, but if its causing a problem with Hunter, then I need to at least examine it, rather than just write it off to him being a paranoid asshole," she pointed out.  "He's my husband…or will be in just a few hours.  I should be running to him rather than you and Kevin.  It's not your job to protect me.  Not anymore."

He quirked a sideways smile at her.  "You know, whenever I imagined hearing those words, not once did I ever expect them to come from you."

She cocked her head to the side to stare at him.  "Who then?  Stacy?"

"Yeah, actually.  I never thought I'd hear them from you, though."  He chuckled.  "Baby Doll, I've not protected you in years."

"Not true.  You may not have realized you were doing it, but what do you call running to Florida – on your birthday no less – when you found out that Hunter and I had split?"

He frowned.  "Hmmm.  Well, that was an isolated incident."

"How about when you showed up at Uncle Wesley's funeral?"

"Hunter called me and asked me to come."

She rolled her eyes.  "That just makes it worse.  Even he knows you're my protector…when it should be him.  I always thought it was him too."

"Nan, you're over analyzing again.  And you're putting too much stock into what can be explained away as legitimate friendship.  Had the roles been reversed and it was Becky or Stacy in the situations you were in, you'd have gone to their aid.  And you're not their protectors."

The redhead gave his words consideration.  "True, but Hunter's not threatened by Beck or Stace."

Shawn shook his head.  "Hunt's not threatened by me either when it comes to you, Baby Doll.  Trust me on this."

She didn't look convinced.  "I'm not so sure about that.  I've been getting weird vibes from him for a while now."

"Weird vibes?  Very seventies."  He grinned at her. "How do you know it's not just a serious case of pre-wedding jitters?"

Growing more and more uncomfortable with this topic, Nan jumped on his suggestion as if it were gospel.  She laughed breathily.  "I'm sure, that's it.  It's got to be it, right?"

"Most likely."

But she didn't hear him, she was so relieved at finding a logical answer, even if everything she had in her was screaming that, logical or not, it wasn't the right one.  "I mean, it's not like he heard me call your name in my vows or anything.  He was still dead asleep, right?"

Shawn sat upright.  "Whoa, there girl.  You wanna run that by me one more time?"

Appalled at what she'd let slip, she stared wide eyed at him, for what she'd said was nearly as bad – in her opinion – as accidentally telling your best friend that you had a sexy dream about her husband.  Not necessarily anything you could control and while certainly not intentional, it just wasn't something you admitted to.  Not to the husband or the friend in question at any rate. 

"I didn't say anything."

"Yes, you did."

She shook her head, prepared to deny it until the end of time.  "No I didn't, really."

"Yes, you really did.  Now stop lying to both of us and tell me what you dreamed that's got you so freaked out."

The words came haltingly at first, but soon she was spilling every little detail about the nightmare that had her waking up sobbing, gasping for breath, and pushing at the dead weight of Hunter's arm across her middle as if she were fighting for her very life.  She explained all of it, even the parts she knew he didn't want to hear about.  When she finished her recitation, Shawn sat very still, absorbing it all.  Then he blew out a rough breath.

"It still haunts you."

She nodded.  "Always will, I suppose.  On some level."  She gave a rough laugh.  "It's my subconscious' most favored method of torture, making me relive it or setting it up in an unexpected situation."

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

Nan shook her head.  "No apologies from you are necessary, Shawn.  You know that."  He didn't comment, for to do so would be a continuance of a very old argument that neither of them were willing to give an inch on.  So they dropped it.  She did snort self-depreciatingly, however.  "I figured you'd be upset with me."

He cocked his head at her.  "Why?"

"Because of what I said – in the dream, I mean."

He shrugged unconcerned.  "It was a dream, Baby Doll.  It didn't mean anything."

"But I said your name, Shawn."

"So?" he tried to reason with her.  "You could just as easily have said Kev's name, Jericho's, Taker's or any other male name you know.  Honey, you could have said Hugh Jackman and it wouldn't mean that you don't love and want to marry Hunt this afternoon."

A flash of something clouded her face for a moment, then was just as quickly gone.  But Shawn saw it.  "What?  What are you thinking now?"

"That," she paused and swallowed, lowering her eyes to the floor.  "That Hugh Jackman wasn't who I ran off to New York with when I was fifteen."

Shawn went very still, barely even moving to draw breath into his lungs.  "No," he finally said very slowly.  "That wasn't Hugh Jackman.  That was me."

"Yeah," she repeated.  "And then I go and say your name in my dream tonight."

He shifted on the window seat.  "They're still unrelated."

"Are they?"  She turned her head to the side, and very slowly opened and closed her eyes, then fixed him with a pointed stare.  "We didn't go through with it.  Did we, Shawn?"

"You know we didn't, Baby Doll."

She shook her head, her eyes clenched tightly closed.  "No, I don't.  Things are so jumbled up…so confused…that I'm not sure of anything anymore."

Shawn slid closer, wrapped his arm around her waist, and coaxed her head down to rest her cheek on his shoulder.  He sighed when he felt her relax against him.  "No, Baby Doll.  We didn't go through with actually getting married.  But we did come awfully close.  Closer than we should have, probably." 

+++++

And he says...
We're not Romeo; we're not Juliet
How long does it take to fill this emptiness
We're just two lost souls and baby we got no regrets
We don't wanna say bye-bye
Babe it's just you and I
We're not Romeo; we're not Juliet
It has feel right but it never does
It has to be perfect but it never is
You wanna be sure but you never do
We're not Romeo or Juliet - it's just me and you
       Not Romeo Not Juliet – Bryan Adams


March 30, 1985 9:22 p.m. EST
Room 1616 – The New Yorker Hotel – Times Square, NY 

"I…I can't take this, Shawn.  I feel like I'm going crazy," she whispered, ducking her head, allowing the long strands of copper hair curtain her face.

"Nan, Baby Doll.  Listen, it's okay.  We don't have to talk about any of this if you don't want to.  We'll just go to the show tomorrow night, and have a good time.  We'll meet up with your friends, right?" 

"And then go back to Texas and let someone else run our lives for us?" she murmured dejectedly.  "Or at least mine."

Rubbing his sweating palms down his best Sunday trousers, he fought the nervous fluttering in his stomach and sat down on the edge of the hotel bed.  Tentatively he reached out and cupped her shoulder, waiting for her to shrug off his hand.  But she didn't.  Instead, she leaned into his touch.  Emboldened by her lack of rejection, he slid closer and slipped his arm and hand up under her hair, curling his fingers around her opposite shoulder.  She sighed.  And he finally felt a small smile tilt his mouth, thinking that maybe things were going to be okay after all. 

It felt good to have his arms around her again.  Protective.  It was a roll he hadn't played very often before he'd met the girl sitting on the bed beside him.  Most of his ex-girlfriends knew they could depend on him when they'd been dating, but he seriously doubted any of them would have described him as overly protective.  But since the day he'd met her almost a year ago, he'd felt curiously protective of her.  He'd stood there and listened to the crap coming out of the mouth of the asshole standing next to him – the same crap he said about every single girl he'd ever laid his eyes on – and something started burning in Shawn's chest over it.  He didn't know if he'd just had enough of the older boy's mouth in general or if it was about the redhead he'd hung out with once or twice at the pool on the base.

With fire in his eyes and a glower on his face, he'd turned to the jerk spouting filth about her and punched him in the stomach hard enough to double him over.  As he stood there glaring down at the older boy who was coughing and spluttering, his face red and eyes watering, he'd snarled at him. "You ever talk about my girlfriend that way again, and I swear I don't give a damn if you're my cousin or not, I'll knock your fuckin' teeth right down your throat!  Understand me, asshole?!"

Shawn couldn't help but feel like that reaction had set everything that had happened to them in the following months into motion from that point on.  But there wasn't anything he could do about it other than feel badly, and love her anyway…which he did, and had since shortly after he'd gotten to know her.  And, he could do his best to make it up to her, as he had from the moment she'd told him she was pregnant. 

God, that had hurt, he remembered.  He'd held her while she'd cried, sobbing against his shoulder, and he'd even shed some tears with her over it, feeling like his whole world had come to an end.  He remembered feeling like he was watching his whole future going up in smoke before his eyes.  But that feeling had gone away as he stepped up and started making her take care of herself.  So the baby would be healthy…but in the end…it hadn't really mattered anyway…

Nan pulled her legs in close, as if trying to burrow into him, and buried her face in his shoulder.  "Make love to me, Shawn," she whispered.

What?  Now? After everything she'd been through?  That they'd been through?  Not to mention what was coming up in the next couple of months?  All of those questions jumbled up together, tumbling though his brain, but what came out of his mouth was, "I don't think that's a good idea," he said as gently as he could, part of him screaming at him that he was an idiot for turning her down.  He squashed that part, refusing to take advantage of the situation.  "It's too soon.  You're not – "

"You're the only good thing to come out this past year for me," she whispered against his dress shirt.  "You know that what we've done isn't going to matter.  Running away isn't going to change anything.  They took the baby from me, Shawn.  There's no way they're not going to let me stay past the end of May once school's out," she lifted her head to face him.  "Us getting married now won't make a difference to them.  So we may as well not bother.  It's only a matter of time before we either go back or we get caught. Who are we kidding, huh?"  Her voice broke and she gasped in a breath of air.  "How are we supposed to fight for custody?  We don't have any money.  The baby's with the adoptive parents by now.  You're supposed to start training with Mr. Lothario in a couple of weeks and I've still got to finish high school for God's sake.  This was a stupid idea."

That stung a bit, because it was his idea to run away to New York when her father had informed them that she'd be going back to North Carolina at the end of May.  And that they were to stop seeing each other – immediately – or he'd take legal action.  They couldn't stop him.  But they could at least delay him for a little while longer…only a day or two…maybe that would be enough for her parents to realize that the more they tried to control their daughter, the more they were pushing her away.  

He loved her, he really did.  And yeah, he was only eighteen, soon to be nineteen, and a college drop-out – or would be once his father saw this semester's grades – but even though he knew they couldn't stay together, due to the circumstances, that didn't change how he felt about her.  Or the baby.  The baby he still wanted to know…a life he still wanted to be a part of.  Hell, he'd been there during her whole pregnancy.  They hadn't broken up because of what had happened.  If anything, it had drawn them closer together.  He'd watched her grow and blossom, and he fell in love with that 'baby bump' the first time he'd put his hand on her stomach and had felt it kick him.

   "They're taking you away from me, Shawn.  Don't let me go back to Moccasin Gap without something to hold on to.  Something to get me through when the news gets out and everyone in my hometown starts treating me like I've got leprosy.  Something good to remember once you've set the wrestling world on its ear and I'm staying home from Prom."

"You'll go to Prom, Baby Doll," he whispered at her, just as broken up as she was.  He quirked a sideways smile at her, sifting his fingers through her hair.  "I'll even take you myself."

"They won't let you."

"Let 'em try and stop me."

"Love me, Shawn," she pleaded, before turning her face back into his shoulder.

He gave a shuddering sigh.  "I do, Baby Doll."

The rational part of his brain registered the fact that she was using him because she needed comfort, needed him to help vanquish lingering bad memories.  Rejecting her now would only put another layer of pain on top of that still aching wound.  Hurting her was never something he wanted laid at his feet.  The other side of his brain shorted out altogether as she nuzzled the sensitive skin under his ear and nibbled on his earlobe.

His own desire for her, which had been half awake ever since they'd boarded the plane that morning, came fully alive as she pressed her breasts against his arm.  "You're not making it easy for me to be a nice guy," he told her, then gulped as she ran her tongue around the curves of his ear, just as she used to do months ago before their world had been torn apart.

"Don't want a nice guy," she whispered, busy again with his earlobe.  "I want a bad boy with a mouth made for sin and a red '70 Olds 422."

That was his car, the thought registered slowly to his overly taxed brain.  The car that had seen more than a few foggy windows with the two of them earlier last summer.  He pulled back to look at her…to make certain she was sure what she was asking for.

Huge sad eyes met his.  "One good memory, Shawn.  That's all I'm asking for.  Give me something good to remember out of this whole mess, rather than the truckloads of shit I've had since the minute I set foot in Texas.  Shawn, please."

  She had that same broken look in her eyes when he'd gotten to the hospital a few weeks back and she'd told him he was too late.  They'd already taken the baby away from her.  And he suddenly decided she was right.  He wouldn't even consider breaking up with her had it not be for her parents.  Had things progressed normally between them, he'd still be her boyfriend even when he dropped out of school at the end of this semester.  She'd have come to see him wrestle and train.  And yeah, she might have had to go back to North Carolina, but they still would have been together even long distance. 

But things hadn't progressed normally.  He was still her boyfriend.  For now.  But if her father got his way, then he wouldn't be for much longer.  She was right, he thought again.  They were taking him away from her.  And that also meant they were taking her away from him.  He couldn't keep her, no matter how much he wanted to.  But he could give her what she was asking for.

Making his decision, he leaned in and kissed her.  If pressed, he'd swear it was because she'd asked him to, practically begged him to.  But he'd be lying.  He wanted to kiss her, to taste her again, because it had been so long since she'd let anyone near her – most especially him – for anything other than casual touches.  But he'd keep it easy.  No sense freaking her out any more than she already was.  He just held her loosely and enjoyed her soft lips.

As he pulled back, her hands tightened on his waist, and damned if she didn't part those lips and welcome him in by teasing his lip with the tip of her tongue.  No fool, Shawn went with the flow, and right then, realized in that very second, that it was going to happen.  He was about to make her his in every sense of the word.

He changed position on the bed and pulled her onto his lap.  But before she had a chance to do more than register the presence of an erection that promised to alter more than her state of mind, he pulled her head down and captured her mouth.

Firm.  Demanding.  But with a tenderness behind it that nearly made her cry.  Just the way she remembered his kisses being.  The kisses that had made her feel all hot and achy inside.  And while she still had the flutter of fear in her belly, she relaxed a bit.  This was Shawn.  He'd never hurt her.

She wrapped both arms around his neck and met his kiss with one of her own, hot and slick, with nothing held back.  She fed him her desire, her love, and her fear.   He tasted it, the desperation on her tongue, and gentled his kiss, slaking his mouth across hers in an easy caress that still demanded, yet reminded her she set the pace.  His right arm held her securely against his chest, while his other hand smoothed the fabric of her blouse under her jacket in one long exploratory stroke.

Nan released him long enough to shrug out of the jacket, and while her arms were busy freeing themselves from the sleeves, he tugged the blouse out of the waistband of her skirt.  Still mindful of moving too fast, Shawn kissed her again, a long, satisfying kiss that made her forget to breathe until he lifted his head.  He cupped her breast and stroked the beaded, hard nipple with his thumb though the lace of her bra.

"I've gained weight.  I'm bigger than you remember," she whispered, ashamed of the changes her body had gone through over the past months.

"You're perfectly shaped," he said softly.  Pleasure spread under his fingers, making her arch back to meet them, encouraging more contact.  "You're in charge.  We go only as far as you want to go.  Just say the word and we'll stop."

She shook her head, setting the ends of her hair dancing across her shoulders.  "Don't stop.  Just…"

"Just what?"

She bit her lip, a little more fear coming to the surface, but she pushed it back down.  "Keep talking to me…so I'll know…"

He nodded, knowing what she was asking without having to hear her actually say it.  "Your eyes make me think bad things always at the worst moments.  Things come out of your mouth that make me laugh when I'm thinking about what else it can do.  And your body makes me think about you and me together all of the time."

His clever fingers found the front clasp of the bra and snapped it open, freeing her flesh to be touched and stroked.  She gave a breathy moan, more of pleasure than apprehension.  This she remembered.  This didn't scare her.

"You don't mind the extra weight?"

"Are you kidding?"  He smiled at her.  "You went from hot to holy mama…you're beautiful, Baby Doll.  And I love you."

A tense yet relieved sigh flitted past her lips.  "I love you too," she said, gasping as those long fingers slid over her nipples.  He rubbed those sensitive peaks for a moment then slid her off his lap to stand beside the bed, pulling her to her feet with him.  Then he knelt in front of her and skimmed both hands up the sides of her skirt.  "Aha."

With a quick twist of his fingers, he unfastened the button and ran the zipper down its short track.  Her skirt plummeted down her legs, leaving her naked except for hose and panties.  She couldn't resist the urge to run both hands through his hair when he looked up at her.  Was it possible to need anyone more than she needed him at this moment?  Nan felt her breath back up in her chest and she struggled to control emotions that swung from grief to giddiness, from despair to desire, from sanity to madness, between one moment and the next.

"I love your hair long like this," she told him, sinking her fingers into the ashe-blonde mass of loosley layered curls, knowing his father had been giving him crap over letting it grow out while he'd been away at school in Dallas.

"Then I won't cut it."

His hair was soft and warm, alive under her fingers.  A mix of light brown and dark blonde that told her he'd been outside quite a lot while he'd been away.  This was hair that had been partly bleached in the sun.  She smoothed it out of his eyes.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and peeled her out of both hose and panties.  "That's more like it."  His voice was filled with satisfaction and she felt a shiver of anticipation, her fear beginning to bleed away more and more with each passing second that she could look into his eyes and see how he felt about her.    That shiver was repeated.  It tiptoed across her shoulders as his gaze centered on the curly thatch at the apex of her legs.

He leaned in and Nan sucked in a breath as he tasted, not her swollen folds but her inner thigh, kissing his way down her leg, then taking her ankle gently in one hand.  She turned slightly and he kissed the soft skin behind her knee.  The other knee received the same attention and he leisurely kissed his way back up the other leg, taking his time to lick and savor every inch, paying special attention to those most hurt places on her right leg.   By the time he reached the spot where he'd begun, she was trembling with need.

"I love your legs," he said against the long muscles of her thigh.  "Wear short skirts all the time, okay?"

"Anything you want," she whispered.

She forgot he wouldn't be around to see her in those skirts, once Spring Break was over.  And he might not even make it home before she had to go back to North Carolina.  All there was room to think about was his bad boy's mouth and the fire low in her belly that he'd been stoking for months now, by simply existing.  Even when she'd been hurting, terrified past reason, angry as hell, afraid of the future, of the baby growing inside her and later despondence over having to give it up…through all of that, even then, she'd wanted him.  Any way she could have him.  He was the one good constant in her life and he could make her feel something other than scared. 

"I want to taste you while you're standing." His voice was husky, gravelly, pulling her back from that not so pleasant place her mind was trying to go.

That's right, she thought vaguely.  She was in control.  "Yes," she remembered to say, and moved her feet further apart.

A kiss on her inner thigh.  Another.  His nose brushed her curls and she whimpered with need and desire, moving her feet farther apart still to give him access.

His tongue flicked out and tasted her, and she jumped.  Her folds were achy and sensitive, ready and waiting for him.  With his thumbs, he separated her and tasted her again, and the lovely slippery pleasure made her moan.  And then his tongue was everywhere, tasting her, licking, finding her clit and sliding over it repeatedly until she thought she would scream with the pleasure of it. 

"Please," she breathed, "Shawn, I need – "

Somehow he could drive her mad and understand pieces of sentences at the same time.  He resumed his courtship of her clit, stroking her slowly at first, then faster, and the waves of pleasure fanned out while heat built at her very core.  The biggest wave of all crested and crashed inside her, under the very spot where his tongue had created it, and she screamed and grabbed his head to push him away.

Too much –

Shawn immediately backed off, stood, and caught her behind the shoulders and knees as her legs turned to rubber.  His arms were strong and sure as he picked her up and laid her gently on the bed.  "Get," he panted, "Get some rest –"

But he'd misunderstood, it occurred to her.  Her body felt exhausted and energized at the same time with an internal hunger that cried out for satisfaction.  "No.  Don't go."

"Baby Doll, you're not ready.

"I am so," she pouted, yet her bottom lip trembled a bit.  "Shawn, please," she begged, pulling him down on the duvet.

He caught himself on his elbows half on half off the bed, and scoured her face for the truth.  "You're sure?"  At her nod, he grunted.  "One second."  He stripped out of his clothes while she leaned on one elbow and enjoyed every inch of lean muscle and skin as he pulled off shirt, pants, underwear and socks.  It took another second to get a condom out of his wallet, and two or three more to roll it on.

"Wow," she breathed out heavily, taking in the sight of him, a slight tremor wracking her body.

"We can stop," he offered, crawling back onto the bed to lay beside her.

She shook her head at him, the look on her face determined.  "No."  She pulled him on top of her, his long, hard body satisfying the hunger in her skin that had gone begging for so long.  Her legs parted and the feel of his muscles against her soft inner thighs delighted her.  "Now," she urged him.  "I need you, Shawn.  Don't say no to me,"

"I won't.  Don't close your eyes," he whispered.  "I want to really see you.  And you need to see me."

She nodded, the first bit of fear beginning to show on her face again.  Letting a guy see you naked was one thing.  Allowing him into your body was another.  But looking into his eyes as he made love to you?  That was scary.

He kissed her gently, then probed her entrance once, twice.  When she lifted her hips to bring him closer, he smiled at her.  His muscles bunched and he slid inside in one deep stroke.

Nan threw her head back with a moan that he echoed. 

"Look at me," he reminded her, his voice sounding strained.  She obeyed, training her gaze back on his.  When the entire length of him was sheathed tightly inside her, Shawn looked into her face with eyes so dark blue with passion that they seemed to burn.  He had such beautiful eyes, even more so now that they were intently gazing at her, flickering in response to every sound she made.

And when they found that rhythm that built the pleasure of being filled into something deeper, more urgent, his breathing became shorter and hers found that rhythm, too.  Finally he gasped, "N-Nan–" before he threw his head back and the convulsions of orgasm gripped him.

Nan's body contracted around him too, as his arms lost their ability to support him and he fell onto her.  As his skin hit hers and she was trapped under his weight, it sank in what they were doing.  This was what she had been so afraid of, and she waited for the panic to set in.  But it didn't.  This was Shawn, she reminded herself.  He wouldn't hurt her.  And he hadn't.

Smiling, blinking against the wetness that had formed on her lashes, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, reveling in the way those muscles that were so strong could give way completely the throes of pleasure.  That he could lose himself so completely in her.

Trust her.

There was no getting around it, she through as she held him close to her and cried, her soft sniffling causing him to slip his arms under her and return her embrace.  Making love with your eyes open was a very scary thing.

Shawn listened to her cry, wanting to offer comfort, but knowing he'd already given her everything he had to give.  And for the first time since all of this had started, Shawn realized, he might not be as equipped to handle their situation as he'd thought.  As that idea took root, he found it becoming more and more true.  He wasn't ready for this.  Not at all.

Yet, he continued to hold her as she cried, guilt beginning to eat him alive from the inside, because he knew…there was an end in sight for him now…but not one for her…her ordeal was just beginning. 

+++++ 

"Whenever I think about that night," Shawn spoke lowly, feeling just as bad as he had that evening, "I feel so rotten."

"You regret it?" she asked from her spot against the wall of the window seat, where she'd moved to a moment ago. 

He shook his head, lifting earnest cobalt eyes to hers.  There was a hint of insecurity in her dark gaze.  "I regret a lot of things in my life, Baby Doll, and as wrong as it may be, that night has never been one of them.  Nor have I regretted any of the other times we shared before or after then either."

She blinked at his shy smile and felt her own cheeks pinken.  "Really?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.  "We can talk about anything, right?"

"Of course.  We always have," she answered automatically.

"Okay, then.  Straight up.  Back when we dated, and even those times when we weren't a couple but still managed to end up together?  You and I?"  He motioned back and forth between them.  "We've always had an intense attraction between us.  Right?"

It was Nan's turn to nod.  "Prom night immediately comes to mind."

His smile widened, and his eyes darkened just a bit.  "That's one.  Before we got back to San Antonio from the first Wrestle Mania was another.  And so does the night after the very first Hell in A Cell Match, with Undertaker and me."

"Nothing happened between us that night, Shawn," Nan pointed out.

"True."  He nodded in agreement.  "But had I not been doped out of my mind, with enough stitches in my head to sew up a baseball mitt, something probably would have."  He paused for a moment, allowing her to absorb that, giving her a moment her to think about what he'd said, while waiting patiently for her response.

She couldn't refute his statement, knowing on a gut level that he was probably right.  They'd always been attracted to each other, since day one. Before it had been just 'puppy squeezin's' as Rosie had phrased it at her bachelorette party last month. They loved each other deeply now, in a more mature, adult manner, and didn't think of each other in that way any longer – mainly thanks to the other halves of their hearts.  Yet, that didn't negate that once, not so long ago, that old attraction didn't still smolder at times.  The specific night in question, she had gone to Saint Louis to see the show, and to seek support from the one person – until Hunter – that she'd always been able to feel safe with…Shawn. 

Bobby had kicked her out of their house after one of his more violent episodes, as she called them.  Her old roommate from Wake Forest University used the term psychotic break, but Nan just couldn't relegate the man she loved with the hostile and often dangerous stranger he'd become in his final years.  So she sugarcoated it…as had become her tendency of late. 

But that night, she couldn't just show up at her brother or parent's house with any decent lie.  She was out of excuses, and simply couldn't think of another.  She had no place to go really, at least, not anywhere that wouldn't end up with her family going after Bobby with torches and pitchforks.  However, there was always one safe harbor open to her, she knew.  And as was her habit, she'd hopped a plane and run right to Shawn. 

She considered his words again, examining her emotional state at the time, then finally murmured, "Yeah.  We would have hooked up again that night if you'd not been so hurt."

"Mmmm-hmm."  Then he continued.  "My point is, whenever we were both free of other relationships we somehow ended up back together.  Even if it was only temporary."

Nan murmured softly, "Until Hunter."

"And Becky."  Shawn agreed, amazed as he always was that once they'd both met the people the were supposed to be with, that their own on-again-off-again relationship had abruptly come to its eventual conclusion.  Without a single regret, sad feeling, or even a last hurrah.  They'd easily and almost thankfully slipped into the roles that they should have played for each other all along.  The absolute best of friends who'd do anything for the other.

"Why is that?  Us always getting hooking back up, I mean?"

Shawn paused for a minute.  "You were safe for me.  And I was safe for you."

She nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment, then sighed.  "Yeah.  Ever since that summer, you've always been my safe harbor.  Do you remember what you promised me that night…" she swallowed hard, her face losing a bit more of its color, then plowed ahead, "…in the emergency room?"

"That I'd never lie to you and never hurt you," he murmured softly.

Her chocolate eyes wide and trusting she favored him with a soft smile.  "And you never have."

"No," he shook his head.  "And I never will, intentionally at any rate.  But to get us back on track, no, Baby Doll.  I don't regret our previous relationship.  And that's not what I meant when I said I felt rotten about that night in New York.  What I do regret though is feeling relieved after…well…afterwards.  I wasn’t ready. Neither were you.  And it hit me that night what a mistake we'd made.  Not," he gave a soft chuckle, "not being with you, you know…that way.  But us running away in the first place.  I was a snot-nosed kid…and you were so young…"

"Shawn," Nan stopped him.  "My age has never been your responsibility."

"Baby Doll, you were fourteen when we started dating."

She fixed him with a vexed look.  "And you were seventeen and I lied to you about my age.  I said I was sorry for that when you finally found out the truth.  A bit too late, perhaps…"

He snorted.  "If I'd known you were underage when we met –"

"You never would have asked me out.  And good or bad, right or wrong, as horrible and painful as that time was for both of us…Shawn…" she reached out and took his hand in hers, luminous brown eyes staring deep inside of him, "…that whole mess – it gave us Tina.  And I can't ever be sorry for that."

"Neither can I."  Shawn dropped his head and squeezed her hand.  "She may be the only good thing that came out of that summer.  Other than meeting you in the first place."

"You sweet talker," she teased half-heartedly.  "I just wish you didn't place all the blame on yourself.  It wasn't your fault."  Nan reaffirmed her position in their oldest of arguments.

"Say it all you like, but I still hold myself responsible for what happened."  He looked back up.  "I would have done anything to keep you from being hurt like that."

"I know.  I knew it then, too.  And I also know that I can't change your mind about it.  But will you at least acknowledge that I don't blame you?"

Shawn looked into her eyes for a long moment, tensely reading her emotions laid out there for him to see, and nodded.  "Yeah.  I can."

"Good," she grinned smugly.  "And you can stop beating yourself up for New York too.  We were both young.  We were both stupid.  And hormones run amok, angst, melodrama, and a hell of a lot of fear ruled us then.  That's the clinical definition of teenager, I believe.  Then you add everything else into it and I'm not surprised we thought we could take on the world as teenage newlyweds, whether we actually went through with it or not.  So don't feel guilty about being relieved that we didn't stay together.  I don't.  Not now."

"But you did then."

She nodded.  "Of course I did.  Everything got taken away from me that year.  Including you.  And I hated my parents for so long after that.  Even longer once I got back and found out…"  She trailed off, lapsing into silence, then bit her lip at the look on his face.

"When you found out they'd given Tina to your brother," he finished for her, a hard look on his face.  "I don't know if I can ever forgive them for that.  I mean it was bad enough to make us give up parental rights, but then to make you watch her grow up and never being able to let her know who she was … who you were.  Not to mention who I was."

Her copper brows furrowed.  "What do you mean they made you give up rights?  Aside from that not making any sense to me, I was told that the father's name was listed as unknown on the birth certificate."

"Then someone lied to you."  He focused a hard gaze on her.  "Tina's original birth certificate had my name listed as the father. But I had to sign away my rights to her to keep from going to jail for statutory rape, as per your father."

"W-wait," Nan stammered as her face grew pale, never knowing what he'd just told her.  "I thought you didn't know I'd had a girl.  You asked me at Prom what I'd had, remember?"

"I remember," he bit out.  "With everything thing that happened when she was born, I didn't even question it when your parent's lawyer handed me those papers to sign. I figured you'd given my name as her father when they asked you.  Like we'd discussed.  But I didn't see her birth certificate when I signed the papers giving her up.  I was too upset because both of you almost died…and they wouldn't let me see either of you…" He trailed off, pushing the memories back into the dark corner of his brain where he kept them to lessen their painful grip. 

"And I never asked about it before because I knew how upset you got, but I couldn't keep on not knowing…so I asked you that night at Prom.  But once I figured out the baby we gave up was Tina, at the Halloween party at Vince's this year?  Well, after that, I couldn't let it go again, so I went back to the courthouse in San Antonio and looked up the original birth certificate.  And there my name was, listed as the father.  I don't understand how that happened, Baby Doll.  I wasn't even there when she was born.  They stopped me down in the waiting room.  If I had been with you like I was supposed to be, you know damn well she'd never have been taken from you."

"I got to hold her for ten minutes.  By accident," she murmured thoughtfully.  "The nurse in my room didn't know she was to go up for adoption, and brought her in to me. She started asking all of these questions, my name, my boyfriend's name, and I told her.  I wasn't even paying much attention to her because I was too busy looking at Tina, barely even able to hold on to her, I was so exhausted.  Not to mention sore.  But when she asked me what the baby's name was, I thought Momma and Daddy had changed their minds and I could keep her.  So I named her."

"Michaela Eve Elliott," he whispered, then added at the look of confusion on her face, "I read it on the birth certificate.  Michaela.  After Michaels?"

Nan nodded sadly.  "Yeah, I named her after you and your parents because y'all were so good to me during all of that…insanity.  I was going to call her Eve.  But instead, she got stuck with Valentina.  My brother is such an idiot."

"Agreed.  But at least I hung around to annoy and scare the crap out of him on a regular basis."  He gave a bitter chuckle.  "Wasn't I outstanding in that capacity?"

She didn't fight the desire to grin and chuckle.  "Oh were you ever.  Thanks, Bender."

Shawn's head popped up, a bright smile lighting his face, and he laughed softly in the pre-dawn quiet that envelops a home.  "You've not called me that in years…Claire…"

"It's a family name."

"It's a fat girl's name."

"I'm not fat."

"Not a present –"

Nan's laughter stopped him.  "Don't go there, Shawn."

"Okay, okay," Shawn laughed.  "It really has been twenty years, huh, Baby Doll?"

She nodded.  "This coming Valentine's Day, yeah.  Makes you feel old, doesn't it?"

"You have no idea," he groaned, and shook his head.  "How am I supposed to tell Becky about this?"

"You can't," Nan murmured softly.  "Not without the state of North Carolina coming after you."

"I didn't mean about Tina specifically," he shook his head, his cobalt eyes trained on the floor.  "I meant about you, me, New York, my arrest, parental rights, all of it."

Nan recoiled from him like he'd slapped her, her eyes going wide, her face paling again.  "Shawn…tell me…tell me you're not serious.  Tell me Beck knows about all of this, Shawn.  Tell me you haven't let me…let us…go on thinking that she knew about you and me when she didn't!"

When he didn't answer and instead shook his head at her, she slapped his bare shoulder hard enough to leave a red palm print on it.  He absorbed the blow without comment, accepting it as a penance. "You told me that you'd explained everything to her during that huge fight you two had when I first came down to San Antonio when Bobby died!"

"I did explain everything – about your sleepwalking," he answered lowly, unable to meet her eyes.  "But not about us."

"Damn you, Shawn!! You lied to me!  You lied to Beck!  Jesus!  How in God's name am I supposed to be okay with this?  I've always treasured Beck's friendship because I thought I was being up front with her and that she just didn't want to talk about it.  I know I wouldn't have if I'd been the one in her place and it was my husband's ex-girlfriend who was now one of my best friends – his too!"

"What do you want me to do, Nan, huh?!"  He looked up at her, his cobalt blue eyes flashing.  "How do you expect me to explain all of this to the woman I'd only been married to for like six weeks, who we'd just found out was pregnant, that the woman I'd brought home with me was an old flame?!  Yeah, I lied to her because she would have flipped out and rightly so!  Plus, I'm not the same man I was then, and both of you know it!"

"That's no excuse for keeping it from her for this long afterwards," she seethed at him, still reeling from the thought that one of her dearest friends was under false assumptions about her and her husband.  God, she prayed fervently that Rebecca was a more forgiving woman than she herself was. 

Shawn pursed his lips, biting down on his tongue for a moment before he finally replied, "And just how is Hunt handling all of this, Nan?  How did he take finding out that you and I were together before you and he were?"

"I didn't have to tell him.  He already knew."

He snorted at her.  "I seriously doubt that."

She looked at him curiously.  "He did.  You were there when he proposed, Shawn.  I tried to stop him and he said he'd talked to my father and that Daddy had told him about it.  He said he knew everything, those were his exact words.  He knows."

But Shawn was shaking his head at her like she was a confused child.  "And you believe that your father told him all of those details.  That he completely confessed everything to Hunter so you wouldn't have to?  Come on, Baby Doll.  Stop being so naïve when it comes to your dad."

Her gaze clearly stated she didn't believe him for a minute.  "Shawn, why would Daddy have any reason to lie about what happened?"

"I didn't say he lied to him, Baby Doll.  I just said, until you talk to Hunter and find out what's really going on in his head about what he thinks he knows, don't be surprised if he's only gotten the Reader's Digest version of twenty years ago."  At the look on her face, he took her hands in his, his early anger at her washed away in the face of her conflict over her blind loyalty to her father, and the deepening mistrust darkening her eyes.  "I'm not saying he lied outright.  I'm saying that he loves you and has been trying to make it up to you for what happened to you as a little kid ever since your first surgery.  And that because of that, he would have painted the picture of that year in the most positive light towards you as possible."

"But I didn't do anything wrong!" she cried, her eyes beginning to fill with tears and spill over.  "You know I didn't!"

"I know, Baby Doll.  I was there, so I know you didn't," he rushed to reassure her.  "But, speaking as a father, if what you went through – any of it – ever happened to my little girl…" he paused, his voice growing extremely thick with emotion.  He blinked rapidly at the moisture gathering in his eyes and cleared his throat.  "If that ever happened – may God make it never be so – then I wouldn't even want to think about it, much less have to give full details to the man she wanted to spend her life with.  And yet," he coughed again, "as her father, I'd do anything to spare her from having to relive those details.  Even if it meant having to tell him myself.  But I'd still make it as painless as possible for both of us – including leaving out some things."

Nan sat quietly for a moment, feeling her heart shrivel and die in her chest at the very real truth in Shawn's words.  When she finally did speak, it was in a whisper, "So you're saying that Daddy glossed it over and he doesn't know about – "

"I'm saying it's a possibility," he interrupted her, not willing to delve deeper into the past than they already had.  "And that until you talk with him about it, you're not going to know what he knows and what he doesn't."

"I can't talk to him today about it.  He's still drunk and by the time he sobers up we're supposed to be at the church…there's no way…" she looked up sharply.  "What am I going to do, Shawn?"

Shawn thought for a moment.  "You say he knows about Tina?"  At her nod he kept going, "So you know he knows part of it at least.  If he knows that much and is okay with it, then you'll make it through the rest.  It might be bumpy, but I've got faith you'll come out on the other side just fine.  I'm as sure about you and Hunt as I was of Becky and me."  He smiled at her.

"But she's going to think I've lied to her all this time when I haven't."

He nodded.  "And I'm sorry about that.  I'll do my best to make it right."

She glared at him.  "Promise me this time."

He grinned.  "I promise, Baby Doll."

"You'd better," she punched his arm.  "I mean, you and I go way back.  And I love you, Shawn.  But I don't ever want to be the cause of strife between you and Beck."

Shawn's grin widened.  "You won't.  But you've got to give me some time to tell her before you just bring it up out of the blue."

"Shawn, you've had five years.  How much longer do you think you'll need?"

He laughed outright at her.  "I think I can arrange for it to be cleared up by the time we all meet up again in Puerto Rico for New Year's Revolution, when Hunt's in the Chamber again."

Nan shuddered violently.  "Please, God…don't remind me.  He nearly died on me in the first one."

Shawn nodded, suddenly sobered at the memory of what she'd been like in the hospital waiting room, waiting for news if Hunter was going to live or not.  He'd sat with her, much to Evolution's displeasure, similar to how he'd done this past June at Bad Blood.  But the difference was that, that time, Hunter's injury hadn't been at his hands.  Rob Van Dam had been the one who'd struck the blow that had left Hunter literally fighting for his life.  That had been the last time Shawn had held the Heavyweight Championship, and at that moment, it no longer mattered to him, not when his friend – although Hunter hadn't considered them friends at that time – was struggling for breath in the hospital Emergency room.

Shawn shook off the heavy weight of foreboding that settled around his shoulders.  "Don't think about that right now.  It's your wedding day.  You should be happy."

Nan fought another shudder, remember that's exactly how her dream had started out.  She pasted on a falsely bright smile.  "Yeah, I should be.  I mean, I am," she closed her eyes briefly then opened them again to see him looking at her with concern.  She waved it off.  "Ignore me.  Very tired person here."

"Well, in that case," he stood up, and pulled her to her feet, chuckling at the pile of sleeping animals she left behind on the window seat.  "Let's get you tucked back in."

Without another word, Shawn curled her fingers around the crook of his elbow and escorted her back to her bedroom door.   "Try to get some sleep.  You've got a big day ahead of you. It's the end of the fairytale…Cinderella's glass slipper…better yet, the prince slays the dragon and gives the final kiss that wakes Sleeping Beauty.  You know….happily ever after time."

"Shawn, my life has never resembled a fairytale.  Yours migh