Title: Is This Our farwell
Author: Empress
Email: Empress@thewaysideinn.net
Distribution: Empress' Private Library and The Wayside Inn  All others ask first.
Rating: R for language…maybe.
Category: Number 7 in the Behind the Scenes series.  Sequel to #6 Distance. 
Characters: Hunter/Nan, Karen, Ric Flair, Dave Batista, Kevin Nash, Shawn Michaels, a brief mention of Dixie the Wonder Wiener Dog, and a few OFCs (Original Fictional Characters)
Spoilers: Oh yeah….RAW of 07/5/04; Vengeance of 07/11/04; RAW of 07/12/04; Smackdown of 07/15/04; and the even possibly the RAW Diva Search of 07/15/04, but I doubt that last one.
Warnings:  None to my knowledge…that is of course, if you really despise flashbacks, or the thought of finding out more about Nan's past and how she knows all the WWE folks, then you're definitely gonna hate this one.  Oh, and it's a long one too.
Summary:  I suck at summaries!  Ugh…here goes…Kevin finally gets Nan to talk to him, Hunter doesn't deal well with not knowing where Nan is; Karen threatens Hunter's genitalia; and the Baltimore Police have a surprise for everyone.  Sorry…no reconciliation between Hunter and Nan….yet.
Author’s Notes: Unlike the others, you will have had to read at least #5 "Seeds of Suspicion" and #6 "Distance" in order to understand this one. Mr. Nash does indeed have a house somewhere in Florida, but no, I don't know where it is.  I chose Key Largo, because I've always wanted to go there.  Grateful big huge heartfelt thanks go out to my bestest buddy Tom for so graciously donating his own personality as a basis for that of Kevin "Deez" Nash, and providing the best plot twists a girl could hope for!  Oh, and the song being danced to is "Higher and Higher" by Jackie Wilson.
Dedication:  "Is This Our Farewell" is lovingly dedicated to the memory of the real "Bobby Wallace," may he finally be resting in peace.  I miss you, wild man.
Feedback: Always.
Disclaimer: Not mine - theirs. Some are mine and I'm keeping those. Sue me and you get bupkiss because, I've decided that I love my 15 year old car and you can't have her!  She may be old, but that V-8 under her hood kicks ass!! Absolutely no money is being made off of this venture.  That said, I’d like to announce on a totally separate note that I am now accepting donations for the Buy Nan A New Front Porch Foundation.  For those of you willing to contribute, please email my attorneys at the following address for more information:  dcrookes@cheatem_screwem_&_howe.org.  On with the show!

In my hands
A legacy of memories
I can hear you say my name
I can almost see your smile
Feel the warmth of your embrace
But there is nothing but silence now
Around the one I loved
Is this our farewell?
       Our Farewell - Within Temptation 

July 5, 2004  2:15 p.m.
Kevin Nash's house - Key Largo, FL 

Four days.  Correction.  Almost four days.  Almost four days since she'd last come out of the room he'd put her to bed in that first night.  Once her tears finally had dried up, she had just sort of crumbled.  Her knees had turned to soggy noodles and if he hadn't already had his arms around her, she would have fallen and probably cracked her head open on his coquina walk-way.  But he had caught her, and swung her up in his arms, her head lolling unconsciously  over his elbow, that red mane of hers dragging on the ground, tripping him as he walked back to the house.  And he'd carted her off into the sweltering Florida night air towards his lair.

Sounds like something straight out of a bad 'B' movie.  A lot like the script his agent had just sent him.  Some imbecile wanted to do a re-make of "The Night of The Comet," the absolute worst movie ever made, in his opinion.  And his idiotic agent had sent him the script, specifically for the part of Hector Gomez, the truck driver that the guy from Star Trek: Voyager had played the first time. Lt. Commander Chakotay.  Yeah, that was it.    His moronic agent thought he would be perfect for the part.  Yeah.  Right.  A seven foot tall, blond haired ex-pro wrestler could convincingly play a guy named Gomez.  Funny, he didn't think he looked Hispanic.  Rock does The Mummy II, The Scorpion King, Rundown, and Walking Tall.  Hunter does Blade III and possibly Conan.  And I get The Night of the Comet.  I gotta get a new agent.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he sighed, closing his eyes.  Lowering his hand, tucking it back under his arm, folded across his chest, he leaned his head against the door jamb, and watched the unmoving bundle in the middle of the bed.  He was positive she'd talked to someone on her cell.  Probably her mom or dad.  He'd heard the phone ring and then her low voice mumbling something he couldn't understand.  The conversation hadn't lasted long, and he'd not heard the trill of her cell phone since.  She'd probably turned it off.  

And he knew for a fact that she'd gotten up at least once in the days she'd been there, because he'd stopped her from walking out of the house, with her keys in her hand, in just her T-shirt and underwear.  She'd been sleepwalking.  Jesus.  She hadn't walked in her sleep - that he knew of anyway - since Bobby. 

Kevin sighed again.  God, he'd not thought about Bobby in relation to Nan in years.  Even though it hadn't been all that long ago, it seemed like a whole lifetime had passed since then.  She'd been so very different back then.  Young.  Naive.  Radiant.  Sweet as spun sugar.  And very much the "baby girl" her dad always called her.  She'd grown up a lot since those days.  She'd become harder, more cynical, jaded, and award-winningly sarcastic.  She'd learned to take life's nastiness on the chin and come up swinging.  But her heart, now that's where that fragile little girl he'd first met still thrived. Yeah, she could handle damn near anything life threw at her now, but if it hit her in the heart, she'd fold like a house of cards.  That hadn't changed at all. Which is why it had terrified him for her when he'd found out she'd fallen for Hunter.

Losing Bobby had almost killed her.  And it looked like, unless he stepped in and did something, that Hunter was going to finish the job. 

~<>~ 
July 19, 1993
The Coliseum 

The trunk lid slammed with a dull thunk, echoing through the empty parking lot.  Kevin swung around to his traveling partner with an incredulous expression.  "Tell me you did not just do that."

"Do what?" Shawn asked, looking up at the big man.

"Shawn, you closed the trunk."

"Uh, yeah," Shawn drawled, chomping on his gum lazily, a half-smile on his face.  "That's what you do when you don't want people to steal your bags out of your car.  You close the trunk."

"Very funny, smartass."

"I thought so.  What's the big deal anyway?  You leave something in there that you needed?"

"No," Kevin smirked, shrugging his gear bag up onto his shoulder.  "But you did."

"What?"  Shawn looked around, seeing his bag right by his feet where he'd left it.  He patted down the pockets of his jacket and then moved on down to his jeans, and stopped short.  "Oh, shit."

"Yup."  Kevin nodded with a smirk.

"Shit."

"You said that already," the big man drawled.

"Fuck!" Shawn bellowed. 

"Well, at least that one was different."

But Shawn continued on as if he hadn't heard him. "Of all the stupid, lame-ass, retarded…"

"I really hate to stop you when you're so obviously on a roll.  But come on, shit-for-brains," Kevin tugged at him.  "Maybe we can call the auto club or something inside."

Shawn stopped short, his self-depreciating tirade forgotten as his face split into a wide grin.  "Oh yeah!  Forget the auto club, my man.  I've got something totally better in mind!  Come on!"  He waved at Kevin over his shoulder as he set out for the side entrance of The Coliseum at a trot.

Kevin shook his head and harrumphed.  "That's what worries me."

They'd been travelling together for just a few weeks, but Kevin already felt like he'd found a kindred spirit in the Heartbreak Kid.  Forging a bond as close as brothers, maybe even closer, had sort of snuck up on them in the short time they'd known each other.  But they were definitely solid.  They were young, talented, good-looking, and had the world by the short-hairs.  And heaven knew they'd already set tongues to wagging among the upper echelon of the World Wrestling Federation with both their in-ring and on-the-road antics.  Usually, usually, Shawn was at the root of the mischief, but they still had a hell of a good time.  And reprimands.  Lots and lots of reprimands.  Which was why when Shawn told him he had something better in mind, Kevin got that nervous tick in his left eye. 

"Come on, Nash!  What are you waiting for, Christmas??"  Shawn yelled at him from the open doors.  When Kevin caught up with him, Shawn clapped him on the shoulder, reaching up to do so, and chortled at him.  "You're just gonna love her.  I've been wanting you to meet her for a while now."

"Her who?" he asked as they stopped long enough to stow their bags in the locker-room. 

"Friend of mine."  Shawn murmured as they walked back out of the locker-room and down the corridors of the Coliseum, his head swiveling back and forth, pausing only to cock his ear as if listening for something.

He sort of reminded Kevin of a cocker spaniel he'd had once whenever he did that listing thing he was doing.  But he wasn't gonna tell Michaels that.  Nope.  He liked his spleen just where it was.  He chuckled, anticipating what this particular friend would look like.  No doubt about it, Michaels had the absolute best quality of ring-rats in the business.

"Hey, man, any friend of yours will be a great friend of mine, I'm sure," he said with a definite leer in his tone.

Shawn whirled around with his brow furrowed and teeth bared, planting an index finger in Kevin's chest and snarled up at the big man.  "Don't you ever talk like that about her!  Ever!  She's a nice girl.  Real decent.  The kind you'd take home to your Momma.  You get me!?"  He punctuated his words with sharp pokes to the bigger man's sternum.

Kevin's eyes widened at the ferocity in his friend's tone.  "Yeah, yeah.  Sure man.  I get you.  Lay off, already."

With a final glare and a sharp nod, Shawn turned back around and once again headed down the maze of the corridors, continually listing his head first to the left and then again to the right.  Finally, he heard what he was listening for.  "Come on.  This way."

Kevin heard it too once they rounded yet another corner.  Somewhere, up ahead, someone was playing music, and loud too.  "Damn, but that's an oldie."

Now once I was downhearted
Disappointment was my closest friend
But then you came and he soon departed
And you know he never showed his face again

They rounded the corner and Kevin stopped dead as Shawn's arm came up and bumped his chest.  He made a move to say something, but Shawn motioned for him to be quiet and pointed just a few feet ahead of them. 

The corridor spilled out into the main commons area of the Coliseum, where the concessions and merchandise stands would soon be set up for the night's coming show.  In the middle of the large area was a young woman, kind of short - for him especially - nice figure though.  Her jeans fit her well, but weren't painted on, and her Carolina blue T-shirt that read "Coliseum Staff" was snug enough for him to appreciate her curves, but it wasn't skin-tight.  She had chin-length copper-red hair that moved around her face like it had a life of it's own.  She looked to be about twenty-two or twenty-three years old.  It was hard to tell really, because Kevin couldn't get a good look at her face.  She was too busy dancing with the mop that she would slap to the floor every few minutes, swish it around, dance a bit, then dunk it back in the bucket.  On the down-beat, she'd wring the mop, slap it to the floor, and repeat the whole process over again, her once-white Keds barely touching the floor.

That's why your love (your love keeps liftin' me)
Keeps on liftin' (your love keeps liftin' me)
Higher (liftin' me, liftin' me), higher, and higher (higher)
I said your love (your love keeps liftin' me)
Keeps on (liftin' me, liftin' me)
Liftin' me (liftin' me) higher and higher (higher)

He stifled a chuckle when he saw Shawn's eyes dancing with mirth, his head bobbing in time to the music, seemingly content to watch the young woman mop.  A movement off to their right caught Kevin's attention.  He motioned to Shawn, whose smile disappeared immediately as they spied a tall, tanned young man watching her mop as well.  Since they'd sort of come up on her from behind, the other man couldn't see them from where they stood, but they had a good view of him.  He wore black military issue utility pants - the kind with more pockets than necessary - tucked into black fringed, knee-high moccasin boots, and a black, skin-tight muscle shirt, showing off very well defined, if not developed, biceps.  He had black hair, long, thick and stick straight, parted right down the middle, hanging loose over his shoulders, and hooded, obsidian black eyes that never left the dancing woman.  He swayed his head from side to side slightly with the music, a gleaming predatory grin appearing on his face.  When he licked his bottom lip, Kevin thought he was going to have to sit on Shawn.  But the man was on the move before either of them could blink.

He strolled over to her with a noiseless, slinking grace to his movements, reminding Kevin of some sort of jungle cat, and slid up silently behind the young woman.  With a growl that even they could hear from their positions, the man wrapped his arms around the girl and lifted her up off her feet.  Her shriek of surprise, and the clatter of the mop handle on the tile, echoed strangely through the almost empty building.  But again, before they could react, she'd turned in the stranger's arms, and was currently pummeling the now laughing man.

"Damnit, Bobby!  You scared the living shit outta me!  Don't do that!"

"Don't see any splatters."  At her glare, he wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her up close to him.  "What?  You're not glad to see me?"

Relaxing into an easy smile, she wound her arms around his neck, sinking her fingers into his hair.  "You know I am."

The two just stood there for a moment before the young man swept her around the room dancing with her through the soapy mess on the floor, his deep baritone voice singing the next stanza of the song still playing from the not-so-small jam-box on one of the concession counters.

I'm so glad I finally found you
Yes, that one in a million girls
And I wish my lovin' arms around ya
Honey, I can stand up and face the world
Let me tell ya your love (your love keeps liftin' me)
Keeps on liftin' (your love keeps liftin' me)
Higher (liftin' me, liftin' me), higher, and higher (higher)
I said your love (your love keeps liftin' me)
Keeps on (liftin' me, liftin' me)
Liftin' me (liftin' me) higher and higher (higher)

Once the song finally stopped, and slid right into another, the couple shared a deep, passionate kiss that made Kevin feel like he was definitely intruding.  He glanced over at Shawn, not really surprised to see a scowl on his friend's face.

Once they parted, neither of them breathing too evenly, Shawn began clapping loudly, moving out of his and Kevin's hiding spot.  "So when do you two get to audition for Star Search, huh?"

The couple whirled around, the young man stepping front of the girl at his side, pushing her behind him protectively.  His hands immediately fell lax at his sides, fingers barely curled, his feet braced slightly apart.  He glared at the two interlopers with malice in his gaze, and Kevin felt a tingle of trepidation.  Granted, he was a big man, probably even out weighed the guy by fifty to seventy-five pounds of muscle.  But this guy - he was dangerous. He wore it with the same ease that Kevin put on his shoes every morning.  His whole posture dared them to make a move and it screamed military.  Ex-military, judging by the length of his hair. It was unnerving.

But the red-head wasn't going to be shoved into the background quietly or willingly.  Her head popped up over his shoulder, her eyes wide.  "Shawn?  Shawnie?  Hey-hey!"

"Baby doll!"  Shawn yelled back.

She ran out from around the man and flew at Shawn, who caught her, as she wrapped both arms around him, laughing.  Kevin watched as his friend hugged her tightly, his eyes closed, a big smile on his face.  Then his gaze slid back to the dark-haired man still standing a pace or two away.  His stance had relaxed somewhat, although he still looked like he could spring at any second, but it was the look in his eyes that caught Kevin's attention.  He was smiling.  That indulgent, kind of sappy, whole face smile that clearly said Isn't-She-Cute-And-Back-Off-She's-All-Mine, that most men got when looking at the woman they loved, when said woman wasn't looking at them.  The dark-haired man's gaze caught Kevin's and he nodded at him, the smirk on his face growing in size.  Kevin returned the nod.  And both immediately relaxed.  They understood each other.  It was gonna be okay.  No bloodshed today.

"Shawn…oxygen…becoming an issue." 

"Sorry, baby doll."  At once, he let her go, a chagrined look on his face as he smiled at her, his eyes dancing, proving he wasn't the least bit repentant. He fingered a copper strand of hair.  "And what's with the Prince Valiant?  I thought you were going for the Farrah Fawcett wings."  He tossed his head with an exaggerated pout, his own long blondish-brown locks bobbing with the motion.

She raised her hand, self-consciously to her shorn tresses, a blush tingeing her cheeks.  "Got it caught in the dish-machine right before graduation.  This is all that's left."

"Aww…I'm sorry, baby doll.  But it'll get better…"

"…before you're married!" she laughingly finished for him, sharing the catch-phrase her grandfather used to tell both of them many years ago.  "I don't think that'll happen this time, Shawn.  I want you to meet someone."

She turned and waved over the dark-haired man who had stood so silently, hovering protectively in the background while she chatted with her friend.  With a beaming smile, she made introductions.  "Shawn Michaels, meet Bobby Wallace.  My fiancé."

Shawn's eyes widened, as he stuck out his hand.  "No shit!  Well, congratulations man.  This is one hell of a gal you've got here."

"Thanks.  I like to think so."  Bobby grinned and returned the handshake.  His dark eyes flicked over to Kevin and then back to Shawn, who just stood grinning at the red head.

Shawn grabbed her left hand, pulling it right up to his nose.  "Well, lemme see the rock.  Where is it?  Little bugger's hiding.  Oh there it is!"

"Get outta here!" she pulled her hand away and shoved at his shoulder.

"When's the date?"

"December 18.  The Saturday before Christmas."  Bobby answered.

"Can you make it, Shawn?  I really want you here."

Shawn smiled at her, and reached out his hand, cupping her head.  "Yeah, hon.  I'll be here.  I wouldn't miss it for the world.  Just make sure I get my invitation so I can clear it with the Boss."

She nodded, and Bobby curled his arm around her waist, gently moving her against his side.  The possessive gesture didn't go unnoticed by Kevin who, this time, couldn't contain his amused chuckle.  Both sets of eyes, one black, one a deep chocolate brown clicked over to him then back at Shawn, who still just continued to grin at the couple.  Finally Kevin knocked his elbow into Shawn's back, pushing the smaller man forward a bit.

"Miss Manners you ain't."  Kevin laughed at Shawn's glare when he turned around.  Ignoring him, he extended his hand.  "Kevin Nash.  HBK's bodyguard.  But you can call me Diesel."

"Nan Elliott.  Nice to meet you, Diesel."

As Bobby and Kevin exchanged greetings, Shawn finally found his voice again.  "Say, baby doll, we need your expertise."

Nan planted a fist on her hip.  "My expertise?  What did you do, Shawn?"

Shawn looked down at the floor and mumbled, "Locked the keys to the car in the trunk."

Sighing and shaking her head, she elbowed Bobby as he laughed quietly.  "Slide bars or straight up and down?"

"Slide bars."

"Figures.  Power or manual locks?"

"Power."

"Damn, Shawn," she muttered. 

"Want me to get your blackjack, babe?"  Bobby asked.

She shook her head.  "No, that blackjack is old and it only works on manuals.  I'm gonna have to pick this one.  You can grab my kit though, please. Come on guys.  Let's go."

Bobby trotted off towards Nan's office while she, Shawn, and Kevin headed back out to the parking lot.  "So you're managing the place now?"  Shawn asked, seeing the direction Bobby had taken.

"Technically, no.  Ferd is still in charge.  I'm learning.  He's gonna retire in January and then I take over full time.  And then she's all mine."  She smiled softly.  "I think Granddaddy would be proud."

Shawn nodded, his eyes going soft.  "Yeah," he murmured.  "He certainly would."

Bobby caught up with them at the car, and passed Nan her kit.  She took out two picks that looked for all intents and purposes to be dental tools.  Working quickly, chewing on her bottom lip she set about trying to pick the trunk lock.  But to no avail.

She pushed her hair out of her face.  "You got a release on the inside for the trunk?"

"Yeah," Kevin spoke up.  "But the car has to be running for it to open."

She nodded.  "No problem."

"No problem?"  he parroted back to her.  "The keys to crank the car are locked in the trunk."

"I heard you the first time, Deez," she mumbled plying two different tools to the door lock.  With two quick twists and a counter-clockwise turn, the door opened with a pop.  She stepped aside and waved Bobby towards the driver's seat.  "After you, darlin'."

Bobby leaned down, gave her a quick peck on the lips and slid sideways into the front seat, reaching under the steering column for the wires at the base.  Kevin's eyes bugged out of his head. 

"Hot-wiring. She broke in and he's hot-wiring the car. Nice friends you got here, Michaels."

"Relax, Kev.  It's cool," Shawn assured him.

"And how many years did you do in juvy?"  Kevin directed his question to Nan.

"None, thank you.  My cousin's a cop.  He taught me a few things."  She shrugged.

"What about Grand-Theft Auto down there?"

"It wasn't juvy," Bobby answered from inside the car.  "But I guess it could be considered prison, depending on your point of view.  I did five years in the Marines.  Been out for almost two years now."

"Desert Storm?"  Shawn spoke up.

"Yeah."  Bobby grunted, then peered up at them from underneath the steering column.  "I could tell you what I was doing over there, but then I'd hafta kill you both."  He winked at Nan, then went back to work on the wires.

Kevin caught a look in those black eyes, that made him wonder briefly if the young man was actually kidding with them like his wink proclaimed.  He wasn't so sure.

Nan grinned up at Kevin, her eyes taking on the unholy gleam of mischief.  "But if it'll make you feel better, Deez, I do have friends in the state pen."

"Leave Wayne out of this."  Bobby admonished.  "Not his fault he got sent up for attempted murder."

"Not the first time maybe, but twice?"  Nan queried. 

"Nope.  That guy deserved to have his liver handed to him."

"Oh, so Wayne's real crime was getting caught and not actually trying to kill him in the first place?"

"Something like that," Bobby agreed.

"Sorta like stealing is only a crime if you get caught.  Is that it?"

"Something like that," Bobby agreed again, flashing a wide grin at her.

As the couple continued to banter back and forth, Kevin turned to Shawn who was about to choke from suppressing his laughter.  "Are these two for real?"

"Who the hell knows?"

Anything else he was going to say was cut off by the sudden firing up of the car's engine.  Bobby reached over and pushed the trunk release button, causing the lid to swing up suddenly, almost clipping Shawn on the chin.  Kevin grabbed his jacket, pulling him backward in time. 

"Easy there, man.  Can't have you getting laid out before you have a chance to give Jannetty what for tonight."

"Damnit, Kev."  Shawn swore softly under his breath.

Nan spun around, her eyes wide.  "You're fighting Marty's tonight?  He's going to be here?"

"Don't, baby doll.  Just…don't."

"But, Shawn.  It's Marty."  She grabbed his arm, but he shrugged her off, reaching inside the trunk for the misplaced car keys.  She dropped her hands as Bobby came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"No, Nan.  I don't wanna talk about this any more.  We've talked about this on the phone.  We've written letters about it.  It's done."  He shoved the keys into his pocket, then sighed, the kicked puppy look in her eyes getting to him.

"Listen to me, baby doll."  He put both hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently before tipping her face up with one finger.  "I know how you feel about Marty.  And me.  But this is between the two of us.  There are some fences, sweetheart, that just can't be mended." 

~<>~ 

Kevin was jerked violently back to the present from a low sob from the lump in the bed.  They'd all been so young.  And stupid.  The wedding that had been scheduled for the week before Christmas all those years ago had never happened.  He'd honestly thought they were going to lose her when she'd lost Bobby.  They hadn't.  But she'd never quite been the same again.  Nan had been young and Bobby was her first serious love.  But she had gone on and loved again.  This one was much deeper, much more mature, and therefore much more painful.  He'd heard Scotty say once that he always had another 'use' in him, but that he didn't know if he had another recovery.  And that's what he was worried about with Nan and whatever had happened between her and Hunter.  He wasn't sure if she had another recovery in her.

Shawn's words from eleven years ago ran through his mind again.  Some fences just can't be mended.  Kevin pushed himself away from the doorjamb and straightened to his full height.  He'd be damned if he'd let this fence go unmended.  With a determined step, he strode into the room, absently noting the empty water bottles on the floor.  At least she'd been drinking; he wouldn't have to worry about her dehydrating.  Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he pulled back the coverlet, only to reveal a mass of snarled red-hair.

"Shug, wake up."

Nothing.

He shook her shoulder, trying again.  "Rise and shine, Nee."

She only pushed at him, tugging the cover back up over her head.

"Okay.  Fine.  You want it the hard way?  You got it."  Kevin stood up abruptly, jostling the bed.  In one fluid movement, he stripped all of the blankets and sheets from the bed, dumping them on the floor.  She curled in on herself, drawing her knees up to her chest and shivered a little.  He felt a brief pang of guilt over what he was about to do, but damnit!  He wasn't going to let this fence go unmended! 

Before he could change his mind, he scooped her up, absently noting that she felt lighter today than she had a few days ago, and turned on his heel, striding from the room in his ground-eating, long-legged gait.  The bounce of his walk finally seemed to jar some consciousness back into her. 

"Deez?  What're ya…"

"Time to rejoin the land of the living, baby doll.  You can't hide forever.  Well, you can," he admitted, kicking open his patio door with his foot, and striding outside towards the in-ground swimming pool.  "But I ain't gonna let ya.  Best take a deep breath, now!"

With  a mighty heave, he tossed her into the deep end of the pool. 

He could have sworn her scream could be heard all the way back to Miami just before she hit the water.  She came up a few minutes later, her "No Hype Necessary" Triple H T-shirt plastered to her curves, spluttering and screeching curses.

"You sonofabitch!"

"Leave my mother out of this," he yelled, laughing.  "She hasn't done anything to you."

"You'd best watch your balls, boy, 'cuz I'm gonna feed 'em to ya before I leave here!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he continued to snicker at her as she swam towards him.  "Bigger and meaner men have tried and failed long before you came along, sugar."

She stopped swimming and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool by his feet, treading water.  She looked at the red, nasty looking cut across the back of her right hand.  "Damn, that stings."  She wiped the hand down her face, slinging the chlorinated water droplets at him.  "That was a nasty trick, Deez."

He squatted down, balancing precariously on the balls of his bare feet.  He braced his elbows on his knees, and smiled at her, his eyes twinkling.  "Got you out of bed and talking, didn't it?"

"You could have just woken me up, you know."

"I tried to, sugar.  But you wouldn't respond to me.  I've tried for three days."

Her eyes flew open wide as she stared at him, water running down the bridge of her nose.  "Three days?!  I've been asleep for three days?!"

Kevin nodded.  "Technically four, but you needed that first night of rest, so I didn't bother trying to wake you."

He could see her doing a fast mental calculation.  "So it's, what?  Monday? Dear God, my parents! Dixie!  Hun-" 

She stopped short, her face going pale again.  "Hunter," she whispered.

"You ready to talk about it now?  Tell Big Daddy Diesel what's going on?" Kevin teased gently.

She tipped her face up, her eyes heartrendingly sad.  "Not quite yet.  There's something I need to do first.  And I need your help.  You mind?"

"Not at all."  Kevin lifted an eyebrow.  "What do you need me to do, sugar?"

He should have seen it coming, but he didn't. 

"Just this." 

She lunged up out of the water, locked her fingers around his neck, and dropped back down into the pool, neatly flipping him over her head and into the water behind her. 

~<>~ 

July 08, 2004  2:45 p.m.
WWE Headquarters - Stamford, CT 

Sweet darling you worry too much, my child
See the sadness in your eyes
You are not alone in life
Although you might think that you are
Our Farewell - Within Temptation 

Hunter glanced down at his watch as he headed towards the employee exit of The Tower.  He had about thirty minutes before he had to head to the airport in time to catch his flight for the weekend's allotment of house shows. He'd decided not to go home at all this week, staying in hotels instead.  He was tired.  Taping promos for Vengeance and Summer Slam for the past few days had been both physically mentally exhausting.  He hated doing them.  He'd rather wrestle a Handicap Iron Man match - if there were such a thing - with Kane.  And Taker.  

But it had kept his mind off wondering where Nan had gone.  Or who she'd gone with. He missed her.  He didn't want to, but he did. He'd not talked to her in eight days.  And the gut-wrenching worrying was making him nuts.  Just  a few weeks ago he'd stood in the middle of the ring and had told the world that he didn't have a conscience, that he didn't feel remorse.  And maybe when it came to business, he didn't.  But personally?  When the cameras were turned off?

Yeah.  Right.  And if ya believe that, then I've got some ocean front property for you in Vegas.

Debating for a minute, he sighed deeply, his mouth turning down at the corners. Setting down his bag by his feet, he reached for the white courtesy phone set into the nook in the hallway.  Picking up the receiver, he hesitated for just a moment before punching in a number.  It was answered almost immediately, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the woman answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Munchkin."

The woman paused, then bit out, "What the hell do you want?"

Hunter dropped his head and closed his eyes at the bite in her tone, half-hoping she wouldn't be involved in this mess they'd made of their lives.  He should have known better.  "Kay…"

"Don't you 'Kay' me you arrogant ass!"  She all but yelled into the phone.  "I swear to God, if I could get my hands on you right now…"

"Do you know where she is, Karen?"  Hunter interrupted her.

"No!  And it's making me sick, Hunt!"  She paused, and he thought he could hear her sniffing hard.  "I've not talked to her at all since Thursday night when she dropped Dixie off asking me to take care of her while she went to be with Anita, for some operation that didn't exist.  Anita's fine and hasn't heard from her either.  And I swear to God, if I find out that you had anything to do with her running, the next time I see you, you're gonna be dangling by your balls from my living room ceiling fan!"

"Did it ever occur to you even once to take my side in this?  That I might be the injured party here?! Hell, woman!  You've known me a lot longer than you've known her!"  Hunter growled now becoming angry.

"Yeah, that's true," Karen agreed.  "But you said it yourself.  I know you Hunt.  I know  what a serious Madonna/Whore complex thing you've got going on with women.  Personally, I blame your mother."

"You gonna try and psychoanalyze me now, Munchkin?"

She snorted.  "Hell no.  I'm not nearly qualified and I think it would take Freud himself to work through some of your issues from that woman.  But damnit, Hunt!  How can I take your side - or hers, for that matter - if I don't know what's going on?  Or where she is?!"

"I keep asking myself the same thing," he muttered.  "How's Dixie?"

"Fine.  Sad.  She misses her mommy and daddy though, I think.  You coming to get her?"

"No," he denied.  "I can't.  Call Mom and ask her to take her off your hands if she gets to be too much.  Spending some time with 'Granny' might make her feel better."  He chuckled, remembering how Nan's mother always referred to Dixie as her granddog.

"Okay.  I'll probably do that.  Hunt?"

"Yeah?" 

"Do you want to let her go?" 

He knew she wasn't talking about the dog, and didn't even pretend that she was.  "I…I don't know, Kay.  I miss her."

"Then keep calling her.  Fix this, Hunter."

His voice was soft, and husky with emotion.  "I don't think I can."

"I have faith in you, big guy.  Damnit, why can't I stay mad at you?" she laughed.

So did he.  "Because you love me, and you know it."

"So does she."

He didn't say anything for a minute.  "I gotta go, Munchkin.  Got a plane to catch.  Talk to you later."  Before she could say anything else, he disconnected the call. 

With a determined glare, he punched in another set of numbers.  The phone rang four times, and the voicemail kicked in once again.

Hey, this is Nan.   Sorry you missed me, but leave a message and I'll call you back. Hunter, quit it! I'm trying to record the message on this thi…beep.

"Hey, it’s me," he breathed in through his nose gathering his thoughts before continuing.  "I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from, but you've got a lot of people freaking out, kiddo.  Karen's losing it.  Dixie's moping.  Edge tried to eviscerate me in the ring on Monday, and I think your brothers have put out a contract hit on me.  Point is, they're all worried."  He paused again.  "I'm worried.  Where are you, baby?  Call me, soon.  I…I…"

"Hunter?"  a voice spoke directly over his shoulder.

Still holding the phone to his mouth, he turned quickly, surprised she'd snuck up on him like that.  "Steph…" 

~<>~

July 8, 2004 8:15 p.m.
Kevin Nash's House - Key Largo, FL 

Exhausted and dripping with sweat from his evening run, Kevin staggered into the blissful air-conditioned sanctuary of his home - and stopped dead in his tracks.  Looking around, his eyes wide, he shook his head, blinked twice and looked around again.  If he didn't know better, he'd have thought he had stepped right back into this same month of 1999, right after she'd lost Bobby. 

His house was clean.  No, more than that.  It was…really clean.  And he could smell food cooking in the air.  Kevin shook his head, a half-smirk on his face.  She'd been there for a week and in the three days since he'd dumped her in the pool he'd still not gotten her to talk about what she and Hunter had fought about.  He didn't really mind though.  It was nice having a woman in the house again.  And she really was the domestic type.  A real homebody.  After her impromptu dunking, she'd proceeded to throw out just about every scrap of food in his refrigerator, and then demanded that he take her to the nearest grocery store so she could fix something worth eating, as she'd put it.  For the next two days, she'd done her damnedest to completely pack his freezer, filling it with whatever concoction that struck her fancy.  Evidently today she'd decided to tackle his house.

And he'd indulged her, knowing she needed something to keep her hands busy while she was working up the courage to talk about the fight that sent her running to him in the middle of the night.  Morning.  Whatever.  Besides, he was sort of used to it.  This wasn't the first time she'd come to his place to heal.  And back then, she'd done the same thing, cook, clean, talk, cry, heal, and move on.  And it wasn't like he was complaining.  So it made him sound a little chauvinistic to admit he liked walking into a house that didn't smell of sweat-socks, with good food on the table or waiting to be fixed, clean clothes, and a living room he didn't have to wade through.  Okay….a lot chauvinistic.  But, he was what he was. 

And what he was, was a man who was in desperate need of a shower.  He didn't even want to consider what she'd say if he tried to sit down to whatever dinner she was making in his current sweat-soaked state.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped into the living room, pulling a T-shirt down over his head.  The wonderful scent of something cooking had turned.  The something was now burning.  He sprinted to the kitchen, and jerked down the oven door.  Grabbing two oven mitts, he pulled out the black, charred, and now smoking rolls and dumped them into the sink, turning on the faucet, to put out the little puffs of flame that had just started to appear. 

Coughing, and fanning away smoke, he called out, "Nee?!  You burned your rolls, shug!"

There was no answer.  He flipped the switch on the disposal and shoved the offending charcoal-briquette-wannabes down into the spinning blades.  Flipping the switch back, and turning off the water, he rounded the corner out of the kitchen, sticking his head into the living room.  Not there.

"Nee?"

Again no answer.  He headed down the hallway to her room.  And there he found her, sitting on the edge of her bed, her cell phone cradled in her curled fingers.  But she wasn't listening to it.  She was staring out into space, far to pale for him to be comfortable with it.

"Nee?"  he called softly from the doorway.

"Yeah," she answered, no emotion in her tone.

"You burned your rolls."

"Okay."

"Mind if I come in?"  He took her half-shrug as a yes and walked into the room sitting down beside her on the bed.  "What is it, sugar?"

She didn't look at him, but just handed him her cell phone.  Confused, he took it and lifted it to his ear.  You have one new message.  To play the message, press one now.  He pressed one.  It was Hunter.

Hey, it’s me.  He paused. I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from, but you've got a lot of people freaking out, kiddo.  Karen's losing it.  Dixie's moping.  Edge tried to eviscerate me in the ring on Monday, and I think your brothers have put out a contract hit on me.  Point is, they're all worried.  Another pause. I'm worried.  Where are you, baby?  Call me, soon.  I…I…

Hunter?  A new voice - one he knew too well - then Hunter spoke.

Steph…

The automated attendant came on again.  End of messages.

Kevin just closed the cover on the phone, and laid it down on the bed.  Damn his black heart to hell.  He looked over at her, just sitting there looking like all her nightmares had just come true.  And he had no idea what to say to her to make that look go away.  Oh, he knew what he'd love to do, and that was go to wherever his buddy was and beat the living shit out of him.  It'd make Hunter hurt a little, and make him feel a whole lot better.  But it would hurt Nan more.  Broken-hearted or not, she loved the moronic jackass, and she'd not let anyone hurt him if it were in her power to stop it.  Outside of the ring, of course.

"Nee," he began, but her sharp move towards the drawer of the nightstand stopped him.

She jerked it open, pulled out a brown envelope, and slammed the drawer shut again.  Standing up, she pulled yet another Triple H T-shirt over her head - this one with the wings on the front and the back saying "Blood, Sweat, and Pain,  Triple H" - revealing a shimmery robin's egg blue one-piece beneath it.  She shimmied out of her shorts and kicked them aside. 

"You wanna know what happened, Deez? He found this."  She dropped the envelop into his hands. "I'm going for a swim."

Vaguely he heard the patio door slam as he opened the envelope and spilled the contents into his fingers.  "Oh, man," he murmured beneath his breath, to the empty room.  No wonder Hunter had gotten pissed. He could only imagine what his friend had said to her.  And he had no doubts that it had been nasty too.

Granted, the poses were bad, and they definitely looked incriminating.  But aside from the shot of Nan's backside, no skin was showing on any of them.  He looked a little closer at the looks on their faces, shaking his head.  These were not the faces of men who were about to pull a train on a girl.  Al looked worried, and Edge pissed.  And Nan was out cold. He lifted the one of Shawn closer to his face, unwilling to believe that his former partner would even consider taking liberties with a woman who Kevin knew he considered to be a 'little sister.'  Shawn's jeans were zipped up, not down.  And his hands were under her belly, not her breasts.

Yeah, at first glance they looked like something kinky was definitely going on, but not so if you looked a little closer.  And provided you weren't a jealous, egomaniacal, emotionally insecure shithead like Hunter was. Hell, those guys were helping her, not screwing her.  Someone was setting his friends up!  Then his brow furrowed as a thought occurred to him as he looked through the pictures again.  Who was the photographer? 

~<>~

July 11, 2004
Vengeance - Hartford, CT 

Never thought
This day would come so soon
We had no time to say goodbye
How can the world just carry on?
I feel so lost when you are not at my sight
But there's nothing but silence now
Around the one I loved
Is this our farewell?
Our Farewell - Within Temptation 

Hunter was sitting quietly in the locker room, lacing up his white boots, when Ric came in.  The camera crew would be coming back there soon, and he wanted some time with Hunter before he had to be the Nature Boy and before Hunter had to turn into Triple H.  He just watched the former champion for a moment before crossing the room and taking a seat beside him on the bench.  He didn't say anything at first, because he really didn't know what to say. 

He'd known something was bothering his friend since Thursday before last, when Dave had picked Hunter up a day early for the Canadian house shows.  Then Monday night, Edge had gone berserk.  And it had taken a whole day of constant badgering before Hunter had finally told Ric, and only once they were alone, what had happened.  And he'd told him all of it, the pictures, the fight, everything.  Long story short, Nan had left him.  Sort of.  Hunter had asked her to leave.  Sort of.  Either way, she wasn't at home and nobody seemed to know where the red-head had gotten to.

Had this whole debacle gone down a few weeks ago, he'd have been jumping for joy, thrilled to have Nan finally out of the picture.  But that had been before they'd talked two Thursdays ago.  Before they'd called the cease-fire.  Before he'd realized he'd known her and her grandfather just about all of her life and then lost touch with her when he went to NWA.  She wasn't what he'd thought she was when he'd met her again in 2002.  Hell, she wasn't even who he had thought she was.  But, since they'd talked last week, he'd realized that the little girl he'd hurt so badly back in 1975 - albeit unknowingly - was the woman his best-friend now lived with.  And it had changed everything for him.

"How ya doin', Champ," Ric spoke quietly.

Hunter just shrugged, and continued lacing up his boots.  "It's gonna be weird without her sitting up in that sky box tonight."

Ric nodded.  "Yeah."

"I can't find her, Naitch.  I'm not so sure I should even try anymore."

The older man sighed, his mind spinning at what he was about to say.  Had someone told him a month ago that he was about to defend Nan, he'd have punched their lights out.  Oh, well, as the French said, Çes't la guerre.  "Have you really tried, Hunter?"

"'Course I have.  What kind of question is that, anyway," he bit out between clenched teeth, jerking at the laces.  "I've called her parents, Karen, her sister, brothers, her friends in Miami, everyone!  Nobody's seen her."

"Obviously you've not contacted everyone, or you'd have found her by now.  What about Michaels?"

"No."  He shook his head.  "She wouldn't go there.  Not with him hurt."

"You sure she's gone to a friend and not off somewhere by herself?"  Ric pondered.

Hunter stood up and stamped his feet, settling into the white boots he wore only for Pay-Per-Views.  "Yeah.  She doesn't do well on her own when she's upset.  She sleepwalks.  Says she's afraid she'll drive in her sleep one night and kill somebody."

Ric's eyebrows went up, never knowing that about her.  "Well, then she's gotta be with someone she knows.  Keep trying."

Hunter shook his head again.  "No.  I don't think so.  I've left messages on her cell.  She doesn't want to talk to me, or she'd have called me back by now.  This is it.  I think we're done."  He placed his hands on his hips and looked down at the floor, emitting a humorless laugh.  "Maybe now I can go find my Beth, 'ey Naitch?"

Ric just looked at him funny for a minute, knowing damn well he was referring to his own second wife.  The one who'd stood by him all these years, reminding him of who he really was when the chips were down.  His anchor.  His rock.  She was something special, all right, and he loved her with all of his heart. 

And his friend was an idiot.  "Hunter, I love ya like a brother, you know that.  But listen to me, Champ.  Nan is your 'Beth.' If you let her get away, you'll regret it for the rest of your life.  I know what I'm talking about.  Okay, so you both  hurt each other.  Take my advice this time. Don't screw this up."

Hunter listened, but didn't say anything for a second.  Then he looked back down at his boots.  "She always used to get nervous when she packed these for me.  She said it gave her butterflies in her stomach whenever I had a title shot or a big match coming up.  Especially last time.  Steph never did.  Never acted like it mattered to her one way or the other."

"Well, that oughta tell you something, kid.  Speaking of which," Ric commented.  "What in the hell were you thinking, letting her bring you to the arena tonight?  You've been spending a lot of time with that she-devil for the past few days, and Hunter…I…don't…like it."

Hunter chuckled, flashed his famous Cerebral Assassin grin, and clapped Ric on the shoulder.  "Relax, Naitch.  Steph wants something."

"Damn right she does.  You."

"Maybe."  Hunter agreed.  "But until I know what that something is for certain, I figure, I've got a title shot tonight, and what better way to get me good and riled up for it than spending a few hours in the company of my ex-wife?  Besides, how else can I figure out what The Princess is up to, huh?"

Ric shook his head.  "You'd better know what you're doing, brother.  If word gets back to Nan that you've been keeping company with that viper, she might not understand, and think you've gone back to her.  Then you'll never find her.  Not without an act of God, or somethin'."

"Yeah, you might be right about that."  Hunter's smile faded and his eyes widened.  "Oh, fuck!"

"What?!"

"The message.  The last message I left on Nan's cell.  Steph came up behind me and said something while I was leaving a message.  God almighty!  I hope that didn't go through on the voice mail," he groaned.

Ric nodded, agreeing with him as the locker-room doors opened and the camera crew began to file in.  "I hope so to for your sake, brother.  'Cause if it did, you're a dead man."

~<>~

July 11, 2004
Vengeance - Key Largo, FL 

The day she'd gotten Hunter's last message, Kevin had finally gotten her to talk to him.  He'd followed her outside and onto the beach.  He sat down in the sand, and watched her swim in the ocean for a minute.  He never understood why she preferred the beach at night, especially when swimming in it at that time was so much more dangerous than during the day.    But maybe that was the draw for her.  She obviously liked dangerous.  It was apparent in her choices of men, friends or lovers.  Regardless of her reasons, he still sat and waited for her on the sand until she was ready to come talk to him.  And boy did they talk. 

She'd finally told him all about it.  Every nasty little detail.  Some he really didn't want to know about.  But he'd been loathe to stop her, afraid she'd just clam up again.  She even had told him about her meeting with Ric when Hunter had been asleep.  That had surprised him the most.  He'd never thought she'd be willing to put aside those old hurts and make peace with a man she'd spent most of her life hating.  She'd done it, not for herself or Ric, because those two could have gone on easily - happily - hating each other for eternity.  But she'd done it for Hunter.  And then she'd come home to him and he'd shot her between the eyes.

He'd listened to it all.  Hadn't made a single suggestion or offered advice, because he knew she wouldn't take it right then.  She wasn't ready.  Besides, he wanted to make sure that she still loved him as deeply as he thought she did.  And he knew damn well that if he asked her outright, she'd deny it.  He'd have to bring it out of her somehow, without her figuring out what he was doing.

With that thought in mind, they sat side by side, a huge bowl of popcorn between them on the couch, getting ready to watch Vengeance.  It was the first time she'd watched any WWE productions since her arrival almost nine days ago.  He didn't really care about the matches one way or another, aside from the fact that he still missed wrestling.  He was more interested in watching her watch Hunter.  That would tell him what he needed to know.   Well, that and he really was hoping Edge would hand Orton his ass tonight. 

He wasn't disappointed either.  That had been a hellacious match too, keeping both of them on the edge of their seats.  Nan's breathing got ragged, and uneven every time it looked like one of them was going to get a win over the other.  And she got into just about every match like that.  Kevin smiled to himself.  Yep.  Wrestling was in her blood.  Whether she wanted it to be there or not.  Not as a competitor, but as a staunch supporter and fan.  Sometimes you just couldn't ignore destiny.  Maybe there was some hope left after all.

Near the end of the Pay-Per-View, he got what he was waiting for. When Hunter's music queued up, she tensed, her face going a little pale, and she shrank back away from the television, pressing herself into the cushions. Kevin frowned.  He didn't like that reaction at all.  It was almost like she was turtleing - pulling back into her shell, so to speak.  Well he knew what would bring her out.  Rallying to her man's defense was always a good way to make her shake off that timidity she was displaying.

Hunter didn't look good, to him.  And he said so.  "Damn, that's the softest I've seen him since WrestleMania.  He okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, look at him, sugar."

"I am looking at him, Deez," she whispered quietly.  "Beautiful as ever."

He groaned loudly and rolled his eyes.  "Oh, please!  Take off those rose colored glasses for a second, gal, and really look at the man!  He's pasty.  There's no definition from the pecs down anymore.  He's got a gut for God's sake!"

"Fuck you, Kevin!"  She all but shrieked at him.  "I don't give a rat's ass what he looks like!  He could outweigh Rikishi and be as bald as Angle and it still wouldn't make a flying fuck at the moon to me!  I'd love him anyway!

Okay!  Pressure valve is off and building up steam.  Now to stoke the fire and push her over into protective mode enough to remind her that she doesn't belong here, but with him.

"Humph!  He still looks like shit.  And he's getting lazy in the ring too."  He waved his hand at the screen.  "Look at him!  Panting like a Russian race horse.  And against Benoit of all people!"  In actuality. Chris Benoit was a tough little fucker, and a great wrestler, but he wasn't going to tell her that.  Not now, anyway.

"He's tired!  He needs a break!  He's…he's…" she stopped, her eyes going wide and her voice dropping back down to a whisper.  "Dear God, he's red-lining again."

Kevin nodded, glad she'd made the connection so quickly.  "And the last time he did that…"

"…he blew his quad."

Just then, Hunter took a chair shot to the head, felling him like a California redwood.  It was over.  He'd lost the belt.  He knelt in the ring, holding a hand to his head, his face a mask of stupefied shock, which quickly gave way to rage, as he turned an evil glare on the crying Eugene. 

She turned big watery eyes on him.  "Deez?"

He nodded again.  "I'll check on him.  Just give them enough time to get back to the locker room."

"Don't tell him."

Kevin sighed.  So close.  Yet so far.  "I won't tell him where you are.  For the record, I think it's a mistake."

"It's my mistake, then." 

~<>~

July 12, 2004  8:30 p.m.
RAW - New Hannover, NH 

He'd gotten a message on his cell phone, which he'd yet to return, from Nash telling him he'd seen last night's match and was just wanting to make sure his brain hadn't been damaged.  Asshole, he thought fondly, reminding himself he really needed to take some time off and go down to the Keys to visit for a while with his friend. Hell, who knew.  Maybe Nash could help him figure out where Nan had run to.  He pushed that thought away, and re-focused on the Keys.  A beach trip. Yeah.  A week on the sand and surf, soaking up the rays, driving a fast boat, eating some serious seafood, and doing a whole lot of nothing.  That sounded like a little slice of heaven to him.  But right now, he was in Hell. 

An innocent comment, one he would have normally overlooked, was probably going to get him fired.  By Bischoff of all people.  Arrogant prick.  His nerves were already shredded from the personal stuff going on in his life. Add in the previous night's fiasco with Eugene hitting him in the head with a steel chair, costing him the Heavyweight Title, and his temper was frayed at best.  But the spark to the powder keg had come from no less than a simple sarcastically asked question.  He'd been walking down the corridor in the arena, headed for Evolution's locker room when he'd heard it.

"Hey, Beast.  Where's Beauty?"

He knew that voice.  Al Snow.  A red haze suddenly clouded Hunter's vision, a buzzing filled his ears, and Hunter snapped.  He didn't remember much after that, other than it taking Ric, Randy and Dave to pull him off of Snow.  Somehow Edge, Jericho and Hurricane had gotten involved too.  And he vaguely remembered hearing a woman screaming for them to stop.  Lillian?  Stacy, maybe.  He wasn't sure.

All he knew was he was now in Bischoff's office awaiting being taken to task like he was twelve or something.  Finally the man himself came in, and Hunter stood up and got right in his face.

"Listen, Bischoff, about Snow…"

"I don't give a damn about Al Snow, Hunter.  Kill him if you like.  That's not why I wanted to see you."  Eric flashed his best used-car-salesman smile at him.

Hunter suddenly felt like he needed a bath.  In bleach.  "It's not?  Then what did you want, Eric?"

Bischoff put his hand on Hunter's shoulder and the smile widened.  "I wanted to talk to you about tonight.  And Eugene." 

~<>~

July 12, 2004  8:52 p.m.
RAW - Key Largo, FL 

Sweet darling you worry too much, my child
See the sadness in your eyes
You are not alone in life
Although you might think that you are
Our Farewell - Within Temptation 

"Hey, Pocahontas.  Whatcha doin'?"  Kevin asked her, as he walked into the kitchen. 

She hated being called Pocahontas, which was why, whenever she wore her hair in two braids, he called her just that.  Actually, he thought it was cute.  And it was the only time he could ever see her Indian heritage.  Around her eyes mainly.  She had the high cheekbones of the Cherokee people. But due to her bold Scottish coloring, people didn't usually associate her with being Native American, even though with being able to prove she was one-eighth Cherokee did allow her to list Native American as her race on any government document.  She was fiercely proud of her lineage, and very few did she allow to tease her at all about it.  He was one of those few.

She glared at him for the Pocahontas reference, but answered him anyway. "Making me something to eat." 

"Sounds good.  What're we having?"  He easily looked over her head at the stove.

"You are having leftovers.  Find something in the freezer.  I'm having this."

"We watching RAW tonight?"  Kevin asked nonchalantly, but very keen on her answer.

"If you want to."

Kevin shrugged, and opened the freezer.  He didn't mind leftovers.  Especially not some of the kinds she came up with.  Not even caring, he grabbed the first decent sized plastic container he saw.  A clearly printed label read "Spaghetti - 7/08/04."  He pried the lid off and shoved it into the microwave, setting the cooking time, and turned around.  "Have you seen my script?"

"Night of the Comet?  Yeah, it's on the coffee table.  You thinking of doing that one?"

"Dunno, maybe.  It was a bomb though."

She nodded.  "A real stink-fest.  Could be worse though."

"How?" he asked.

"They could be offering you Attack of the Killer Clowns From Outer Space."

Kevin shuddered.  "Good point.  I'll think about the offer again."  He glanced over her shoulder to see what she was making for herself. 

It looked to be some sort of sandwich.  On toast.  His eyes scanned the items on the counter as he watched her build her monstrosity.  Peanut butter.  Bananas.  Marshmallow cream.  But when she reached for the slices of fried bacon, and a huge Kosher dill pickle, the words burst from his mouth before he stop himself.

"Jesus Christ, Nee.  Are you pregnant?" 

Immediately her hands stilled, and he could have kicked himself. "Not funny, Deez."

"Damnit, sugar.  I'm sorry…I forgot."

She just nodded and went back to constructing her sandwich.  But he couldn't leave well enough alone.  "Have you told him?"

"That I can't have kids?  No."  She gathered up her food and turned to head into the living room.  "And it's a moot point now anyway.  Isn't it?"

He watched her walk away, her head held high and stiff.  And he couldn't help but feel she was slipping further and further away from them all, the longer this separation continued.

~<>~

July 15, 2004
Smackdown &RAW Diva Search - Key Largo, FL 

"Nee!  Come on, already!  It's starting!"  Kevin called from the couch as the opening title shots for Smackdown! began to play. 

"Coming!"  She hollered back from the kitchen.

Word Life! This is basic Thuganomics! This is ba-basic Thuganomics!  Word Life! I'm untouchable but I'm forcing you to feel me…

"Is John on?" Nan came sliding around the corner, nearly spilling the bowl of cheddar popcorn she'd made, and plopped down beside Kevin on the couch. "Did I miss anything??"

"Not yet.  Now shush up.  I wanna hear this."

"Since when do you like Cena?"  she asked around a mouthful of the savory snack.

"Since the soap incident with Heyman.  Now, shush!"  Kevin answered, ramming his hand down in the bowl.

"No shit?!  Me too!"

"Nee!"  He practically wailed at her, cheddar popcorn kernels flying out of his mouth.

She laughed and he stopped for a second, a wide grin splitting his face.  It was the first time he'd heard her laugh since she'd gotten there.  Things were looking up.

Her laughter continued through the first fifteen minutes of the program. He joined in with her, to the point where the were both holding their sides, as John Cena tore into Booker T, Rene Dupree, Kenzo, Michael Cole, and the Geisha chick, whoever she was. 

"Representative of the Lollipop Guild!  That's what I used to call Benoit!"  Nan crowed, wiping at her eyes.

"Hell, I used to call the little runt The Vanilla Midget."  He smiled again as her laughter picked up again at that.

She wrapped an arm around her middle.  "Oh, God, Deez!  No you didn't!"

He held up a hand.  "Swear to God." 

"To his face?"

"Every damn day." 

She continued to giggle through the rest of John's opening comments.  And those giggles turned to cheers when he yanked Kurt Angle out of his wheelchair.  "Kick his sorry bald ass, John!"

Kevin barked out a laugh.  "How do you know his ass is bald?"

"Shut up, Deez!"  She reached out and punched him on the thigh, then clamped down on his forearm when Luther jumped John from behind.  "You're a fuckin' shit-heel, Luther!"

He pried her fingers off his arm and rubbed at his leg.  He suddenly remembered why Shawn and Hunter both had warned him never to sit beside her, or at least in striking range, when she was watching a match she really could get into.  He laughed at her.  "Uh, Nee, you do know this is taped, right?  This isn't happening now."

"Shut up, Deez!" 

Almost two hours later she wasn't laughing anymore.  Almost two hours later, she had her fingers pressed to her lips, her eyes as big as Buick hub-caps whispering, "No, Eddie, no.  Oh, God.  No, Eddie.  No!"

What resulted was an absolutely spectacular Frog-Splash from the top of the cage on to JBL laying prone beneath.  As Guerrero writhed around on the mat in obvious pain, she turned big eyes on Kevin.  "Why didn't he just go over the top for the win?"

Kevin shrugged, and took another swig from his Corona.  "Dunno.  Maybe he had something to prove."

"Prove my ass!"  She growled, snatching up her cell phone.  He watched, in blatant amusement as she stabbed the numbers into the phone, huffing as she waited for whomever on the other end to pick up.   Finally, someone did.  "Hola, Vicki.  Es Nan.  Bueno, bueno.  ¿Vicki, es Eddie alli? ¿Puedo hablar con él?  Gracias."  She looked back over at Kevin.  "I'm gonna fuckin' kill him."

Kevin winked at her.  "Go get 'im, Tiger."

"Eddie?  ¡Ta vato loco!  What the fuck is wrong with you?!  Don't you 'cariña' me!"

Kevin just laughed and watched the finish of the match, turning a deaf ear her tearing Eddie a new one.  He shook his head.  She may not be able to wrestle, but he dared anyone to get a three count on her if the match were a verbal one. He couldn't help but laugh as Angle got exposed to the world for being El Grande Luchador, and the one who cost Eddie the belt.

After about ten minutes, the angry tone faded to concern, and then eventually to laughter. "Okay.  Yeah. I promise.  As soon as I can.  Summer Slam?  Oh, Eddie…I don't know.  Yo no sé.  Well, see, Hunter and I are sort of …having problems.  Okay.  Yes, Eddie, I hear you. Sí, sí.  Claro que sí, ese.  Me too.  Y tambien.  Bye."

He switched the channel over to Spike to watch the RAW Diva Search.  "Do you always talk in two different languages at the same time with him?"

"Huh?"  She closed the phone and laid it on the coffee table.  "Oh.  Ramón got me started doing it.  His English is good, but his Spanish is better, obviously.  And mine's just the opposite.  Angela's fluent.  When he and Angela first started dating, I had to use both languages to make sure he could understand me.  Now it's just a habit with anyone who speaks  Spanish, I suppose." 

She finally noticed what was on the television, and frowned at him.  "You can't be serious."

"Sure I can.  Do it all the time."

"Deez."

"What?  You can't really sit there and tell me that you're gonna begrudge me a little T&A after watching you drool for two hours over John Cena."

"I was not drooling over John!"

"Were so."

"Was not."  She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Don't make promises you've no intention of keeping, sugar."  He winked at her.

"I can't watch this atrocity."  She got up and moved towards her room.

Coach had just introduced Hunter as one of the guest Judges.  Hearing his music, Nan stopped, walked back around the couch and sat back down.

"Yep.  A real atrocity."  Kevin gloated at her.

"Shut up, Deez." 

~<>~

July 18, 2004  1:39 p.m.
Baltimore-Washington International Airport
Long Term Parking Lot - Baltimore, MD 

"Lt. Peagram!  I've got blood in this one, Sir!"  Officer Tom Edwards called to his superior, stepping away from the destroyed navy blue sedan, and moving back to the squad car.  Shame.  It was an older car, but it had been a fast runner, he was sure of that.  It wasn't going anywhere now.  Except maybe to the scrap yard.

"Damn.  I was really hoping this would just be a normal vandalism call.  A really big vandalism call.  Call it in to forensics and get them out here!" He called back.

Peagram looked across the long term lot at the some twenty-five to thirty-five completely destroyed.  Windows smashed in.  All tires shredded.  Puncture marks through the hoods and down into the engine blocks.  Shimmery puddles of antifreeze, transmission fluid, oil and brake fluid all mixed together leaving the parking lot a hazard for walking.  Sort of reminded him of one of those modern art pieces at the Baltimore Museum of Art that Trudy had dragged him to last weekend.  Roll a canvas in this shitty mess, slap a stupid name on it, and he could make a mint and retire.  Call it Vehicular Blood, or something equally as absurd.  Yeah.  That'd be good.

"You run the plates on this one yet, Edwards?"  Peagram asked, walking up behind him.

"Yes, Sir.  It's registered to a Nanette Elliott, 928 Sherwood Place, Greenwich, Connecticut.  No telephone listed.  But, when you run the address, the home is listed under Hunter Hearst Helmsley same address.  Hunter Hearst Helmsley."  The younger officer laughed.  "Yeah, right.  Can't be."

"Can't be what, Edwards?"

"Hunter Hearst Helmsley." The younger officer repeated.

"Am I supposed to know the name, Officer Edwards?"  Peagram sighed, in no mood to play guessing games.

"Triple H.  The Game.  The Cerebral Assassin."  At his commanding officer's continued blank look, he added, "He's a wrestler with the WWE."

"Ah.  Gotcha."  Jesus, everything comes back down to wrestling with this rookie.  "Okay so there are two guys with the exact same name in the same city?  I doubt it, not with a name like that anyway.  Get me a phone number or a work address or something."

"Yes, Sir."  Edwards tapped something into the computer interface mounted in the squad car.  "Holy shit! Lt. Peagram!  It is him!  See?!  Right here!" the excited officer tapped the screen where it clearly said, work address WWE, Inc., Stamford, Connecticut. "There's a phone number too."

"Great.  Get him on the horn and see if he knows this Nanette Elliott." Peagram ordered.

Edwards turned to him with a look of stunned surprise on his face. "I…uh…you want me…uh…t-t-t-o…uh…"

"Christ, Edwards.  I didn't ask you to call God.  Get the man on the horn."

"Uh, no, Sir.  I mean, yes, Sir.  I mean…" he shook himself.  "He's not there, Sir."

Rolling his head on his neck to relieve the building tension, he counted to ten like his doctor had told him, then asked, "And just how do you know this, Edwards?"

"Because he's in Frederick performing tonight, Sir.  I'm going.  First balcony, but I've still got a ticket."

Peagram smiled.  "Of course you do." 

~<>~

July 18, 2004  9:30 p.m.
House Show - Frederick, MD

So sorry your world is tumbling down
I will watch you through these nights
Rest your head and go to sleep
Because my child, this is not our farewell.
This is not our farewell.
Our Farewell - Within Temptation 

"Mr. Helmsley?"

Hunter moved to side-step the uniformed police officers with an easy gait.  "Sorry boys, I'm too tired tonight for autographs.  Maybe another time, huh?"

The older officer stopped him by stepping back into his path.  "I'm sorry, Sir, but we're not here for autographs.  I'm Lt. Peagram.  This is Officer Edwards.  We're with the Baltimore Police Department."

"Baltimore, huh?  A little out of your jurisdiction aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir."  Peagram agreed with a tired half-smile.  "But considering the nature of our visit and the fact that you were in the area, we decided to come see you about this in person."

"What's the problem, Officer?"  Hunter asked, his eyes narrowed and a little nervous fluttering began in his middle somewhere.  Police were never a good thing to see show up on the job, unless you called them first.

"Mr. Helmsley, do you know a Nanette Elliott?" Peagram asked.

The fluttering in his stomach immediately turned to a sickening roll.  He spied someone walking by.  Dave.  He waved him over.  "Yes.  Yes, sir.  I do.  She's my girlfriend.  We live together."

"What's going on, Hunter?"  Dave asked as he walked up.

"And your name, Sir?"  Peagram inquired.

"Dave Batista.  What's this all about?"

Lt. Peagram ignored the question and turned back to Hunter.  "Mr. Helmsley, when was the last time you saw or spoke to Miss Elliott?"

"Ah, Thursday.  July 1.  We had a fight and I left for Canada.  I've not had any contact with her since."

"Hunter.  Don't say anything else without a lawyer."  Dave whispered.

"Why?  I'm not being charged with anything.  Am I Officer Peagram?"  Hunter asked.

"No sir.  Not at the moment."

"What do you mean at the moment?!"  Dave snarled. 

"Dave.  Dave.  Settle down."  Hunter swallowed hard and asked the one question he had been dreading since the officers had identified themselves.  "Why are you asking all of these questions about Nan, Officer?"

Peagram sighed.  He hated this part.  "We were responding to a vandalism call on about thirty-five cars in the Baltimore-Washington International Airport long term parking lot.  Miss Elliott's car was one of the cars vandalized.  Totaled actually."

Hunter smiled, relief flooding his features, not giving a damn about the car.  He could replace that.  "You hear that, Dave?  She's in Baltimore." He laughed a little shakily.  "Who the hell does she know in…Stacy.  Stacy lives in Baltimore.  I should have known."

"Mr. Helmsley?"  the officer interrupted.  "We're not positive as to Miss Elliott's whereabouts.  Normally we'd just leave a message at your residence regarding the damaged property and wait until you contacted us."

"But not in this case, obviously."

"No, sir."  Peagram agreed.  "Mr. Helmsley, we have to inform you that we're now doing a preliminary trace on Miss Elliott.  If nothing comes of that, a missing persons report will be filed with the FBI since she's been missing since, July 1, did you say?  And an APB will go out across the wires on her disappearance."

"Why all the official….stuff?"  Hunter asked.  "She's just gone to a friend and she won't return my calls.  I told you.  We had a fight.  She's pissed at me and making me sweat it out a little."