.

Title: That Which Does Not Kill Us…
Author: Empress
Email: Empress@thewaysideinn.net
Distribution: Empress' Private Library and The Wayside Inn  All others ask first.
Rating: R - for language
Category: Number 9 in the Behind the Scenes series - sequel to #8 It's A Matter Of Trust.
Characters: Hunter/Nan; Kevin Nash; Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley; Al Snow; Stacy Kiebler; Edge; lots references to other WWE Superstars, including cameos of a few, and three new OFCs (Original Fictional Characters - I got creative with this one…may God have mercy on us all.)
Spoilers:  None - can ya believe it???
Warnings:  Several long flashbacks that involve some angst, a whole lot of drama, two broken hearts, and maybe even partridge in a pear tree!   Major mushiness and icky romantical type stuff…bring insulin…and vinegar, just for medicinal purposes, of course!
Summary:  This is the part that some of you have been waiting for…the date of February 2, 2002 is finally explained. Partially.  But you're still gonna have to wait to see what Hunter gets for his birthday present.  Sorry.
Author's Notes:  HunterMuse took over the writing of a good portion of this one for some reason, and a lot of this comes from 'his' perspective.  See, I've got this theory about men.  They really do have real feelings and emotions, and that they think a lot more than women give them credit for - at least the ones I know do.  But, their problem is, that the Vocal Chord Police (a.k.a. conventional societal stereotypes) stop-up those thoughts, feelings, and emotions whenever the guy wants to give voice to them.  So we never know how deep they can really be.  And for some, that's a good thing.  I've been lucky.  Most of the men I've known didn't have this problem, being truly at ease with both who they were, and with talking to me, for whatever reason, about how they were feeling and what they were thinking about. So therefore, Hunter doesn't have a problem with opening up to Nan either.  If ya don't like it?  Four words for ya…willing suspension of disbelief.  Look it up.  And while you're looking that one up…for those of you who keep asking me how I know the real Mr. Paul Levesque (and you know who you are)…look this one up too…fiction.  'Nuff said.
Author's Notes - The Sequel:  This one is technically part one of a two parter (within all the other parts - yes, I know I've got tweeting birds circling my head).  Meaning, I really didn't end this installment; I just sort of stopped it.  So "Part 9 That Which Does Not Kill Us…" will be continued in  "Part 10 …Only Makes Us Stronger."   I feel kinda guilty with these two.  I've tried fairly hard to keep the Superstars true to their on-screen characters  with exceptions made for 'private times,' obviously.  And we know I like to play like the story lines are real and not scripted.  But in this one, as well as the one to follow, I really vilify Steph, and Angle, and a couple of others, too.  Of course, the time period in which I'm writing Steph, her character really was the villain.  But the problem is, I LIKE STEPHANIE.  Both her on-screen and off-screen personas.  So, for those of you who really like Steph, please know that I do I feel terribly guilty over doing it.  But I did it anyway.
Feedback: Always.
Disclaimer: Not mine - theirs. Some are mine and I'm keeping those. No money made. Sue me and you can have…you can have…hmmm…what can you have??  I'd offer you my house, but it's not in my name, even though I do get the joy of paying the mortgage and property taxes for it!!!!!  Oh!  I've got it!  How about the freakin' tree that's growing up between the steps of my back porch???  Yeah, that'll work.  Sue me and you can have a five-foot tall Maple sapling!  But you gotta come dig up the damn thing!

I've got the world
I have it all
In your arms
Wrapped in your arms
The only place I want to fall,
Is in your arms
Wrapped in your arms
Just keep me safe and warm
And wrap me in your arms
       Wrap Me In Your Arms - April Villanueva

July 20, 2004  7:08 a.m.
Casa de Nash - The Beach - Key Largo, FL 

She was having the most wonderful dream.  Lying in sand warmed by the sun, enjoying the sounds of the gulls and the breaking waves upon the shores.  And a deliciously familiar weight pressing her down.  Consciousness was coming slowly, languidly, and she was in no hurry to hasten it along. 

But Reality is a funny thing.  Reality has a tendency to come crashing in on you when you least expect it to.  And it usually does so, creating the most havoc and inflicting the most pain as possible, when it snaps your ass, bringing you back to where it wants you to be.  But sometimes…just sometimes…Reality will throw you a curve ball, using humor to get your attention, rather than its usual modus operandi.  That doesn't mean that the end results are any less devastating, just differently achieved.

That said, it was certainly understandable that Nan's eyes flew open and her breath came in shallow, labored pants, like someone had doused her in ice-water when she heard the little boy yell, "Ma?!  Are they dead?!"

For a minute she didn't know where she was.  The sky overhead was just barely coming alive with golden, coral, and orange streaks poking through pink clouds.  It looked like something right off a painter's palate.  Her eyes focused for a moment on the breathtaking splendor of the morning sky lit up that way before she reluctantly moved her gaze to a very inquisitive pair of indigo eyes, probably not two feet away from her own.  Those eyes twinkled and popped with the patented excitement that only comes from being seven years old, and they were set in the cutest face she thought she'd ever seen.  He had what her Mom called apple-blossom cheeks, rounded, chubby, and bright red in the very centers, with a sinfully deep set of dimples that someday would break many female hearts, if he kept them.  His hair was short, sandy blondish-brown, and it stuck up all over his head in the oddest angles, like he'd used a porcupine to comb it.  He was squatted down beside her, his little arms braced on his knees, grains of sand stuck in patches all over him, and he just stared at her. 

Unexpectedly, he smiled, flashing a Snagglepus smile, both front teeth missing, with those dimples going even deeper.  "Hi."

Nan couldn't help but return his gamine grin.  This one was gonna be a heart breaker some day.  That was for sure.  "Hi yourself," she smiled back.

"He thick?" he asked with a pronounced lisp.

The little boy nodded his head in the direction of Hunter, who still lay on his stomach, his arm around her waist, his head pillowed on her chest.  His hair was completely covering his face and he was breathing deeply, just on the verge of snoring, but not quite.

"He thoundth funny.  Jutht like my father on Thundayth when the preacher'th been talkin' too long."

Unable to keep it in any longer, Nan burst out laughing, his adorable lisp, due to the missing teeth, just sending her over the edge.  The movement jostled Hunter who lifted his head, peering sleepily through a curtain of blond hair.  "Wha…" he cleared his throat.  "What is it, baby?"

"We have company," Nan giggled.

Hunter tossed his head, the motion moving the hair out of his eyes, as he turned his unfocused gaze on the little boy squatted down beside Nan.  "Hey there, sport.  You out here by yourself?"

"Nuh-uh.  Ma'th down there," he pointed towards the tide line which was considerably closer to them now than it had been when they'd fallen in the sand earlier.  "The'th lookin' for thellth with Hannie."  He squinched up his nose and lips, making an obviously disgusted face, and further explained.  "My baby thithter.  The'th two and can't do nuthin'."

Hunter coughed to cover his chuckles, but the smile gave him away, as he rolled to his side and sat up, sliding a hand under Nan's shoulders, helping her up as well.  Before either of them could say anything, the little boy wiped his hand down his swimming trunks and then thrust it out at Hunter.

"I'm Jack," he announced with a serious expression, like them knowing his name made all the difference in the world.

Fighting back a grin, Hunter took his hand, completely swallowing it up in his own, and shook it.  "I'm Hunter.  And this is Nan."

Jack let go of Hunter's hand, and immediately held it out to her as well.  "Nithe ta meetcha, Mith Nan."

Smiling brightly, Nan shook his hand, "Nice to meet you too, Jack."

"Y'all goth any kidth?"

The question hit Nan out of the blue, though innocently asked, and she felt like she'd just taken a mule kick to the stomach.  Luckily, though, Hunter couldn't see her face from his angle beside her, at least, she hoped he couldn't.  Fate spared them from having to answer as Jack's mother realized at that moment that her little boy wasn't at her side where she'd left him.

"Jackson Alexander Chilton!  How many times have I told you not to talk to strangers!" his mother yelled, advancing on them quickly with a toddler planted on her hip.  She had the same color hair as her son, and her daughter too. Even from this distance Nan could see the same indigo eyes.  She wore that look on her face that most mothers got when they first realized they couldn't find their child, only to see them safe and sound a few minutes later…a combination of fury and relief.  Nan couldn't help but notice that she looked a little out of place on the beach this early in the morning with her designer label swimsuit, perfectly sculpted, manicured, and very false nails, and even more perfectly coifed hair.  And makeup that would have made a Stepford wife jealous.

"It'th okay, Ma!  I intro-ducted mythelf tho we ain't thtrangerth no more!" Jack yelled back, standing up and turning to face his approaching mother.

"You're missing the point, Jackson.  But that's perfectly all right.  I'll just let your father explain it to you," she called out as she stepped up to them.

"Uh-oh.  Someone's in trouble," Hunter whispered low enough that Jack couldn't hear, earning him a muffled giggle and a half-hearted elbow in the side from Nan.  He chuckled and got to his feet, lending her a hand up as well.

"Hello.  Beverly Chilton," she introduced herself with an apologetic glance.  "I am so sorry, if Jackson disturbed you.  He knows he's not supposed to talk to strangers, but he just doesn't seem to get it."

"Ma! I told you, they ain't thtrangerth no more!" Jack protested loudly, as he reached out and  tugged on Hunter's hand.  "Thith here ith Mithter Hunter and the'th Mith Nan. Thee??"

Beverly closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a minute.

"Mister Hunter and Miss Nan?"  Hunter whispered softly in Nan's ear as Jack's mother tried to compose herself. 

"It's a Southern thing, Hunter."

"Ah."  He nodded, grinning.

"And secondly, it's 'they aren't strangers any more'," they heard Beverly finish, still giving her son a stern look.

Jack appeared to give consideration to her words.  Then he squinted one eye up at his mother, and asked, "Can I go play now?" 

"Yes," she nodded vigorously.  "Please.  But take Hannah with you," she added, plucking the toddler from her hip and setting her on her feet in the sand.

"Aw, Ma!"

"Jackson," his mother warned.

"Okay, okay." The little boy grumbled.  "Come on, Hannie."

"There's no need to apologize, really," Nan smiled as Beverly turned back to them. "He really is a little charmer."

"And he knows it too, believe me.  Just like his father."  Beverly sighed melodramatically, then turned on them with a speculatively spiteful grin, directing the conversation back to them, addressing Nan first.  "Now, I've seen you out here before, for the past few weeks at all hours of the night,  with that tall, blond Adonis you've been living with.  Kevin, isn't it?  And I've meant to come say hello, but I never could seem to find an appropriate time, if you know what I mean.  Now you," she pointed at Hunter, with a hungry light in her eyes.  "I think this is the first time I've seen you out here."

"I just got in last night."

"Oh. Hmm…." She had the grace to blush just a little, as Hunter's arm stole around Nan's waist.  She turned her gaze on the redhead.  "Sorry.  I'd just seen you out here a lot with Kevin and I assumed…well, never mind what I assumed," she finished with a venomous smile.  "New neighbors?"

Nan's polite smile faded.  She had been born and raised in the South.  And she was more than familiar with the "Southern Way" of asking nosy questions that were veiled just enough in friendly curiosity not to get you labeled as a busybody.  But this was stepping over the line.  This woman's questions were neither friendly nor curious, but more condemning and judgmental.  That and Nan didn't care for the way the brunette kept looking at Hunter. 

Nan's answer, though still polite, was short and clipped.  "No, we're just here visiting a friend for a little while.

"Shame."  Beverly clicked her tongue with an over-exaggerated pout.  "I thought maybe you'd bought the Marsden place.  It's between us and Kevin."

"Is it?"  Hunter turned to Nan with a smile, showing lots of teeth.  It was a smile she recognized, indicating that he was about at the end of his non-existent patience with the not-so-subtle pecking at their presence on the private beach.  "We might want to consider that, sweetheart.  What do you think?"

Biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing aloud at the overly animated and overly friendly tone in his voice, Nan smiled cheekily, her eyes dancing with a devilish light.  "Well, I don't know, dear.  These homes are awfully close together.  That might present a problem for some of our social gatherings." She stressed the last words meaningfully with an upward tilt to her eyebrow.  "Although,  I do like the ocean access.  Might prove handy for some of our more exotic guests."

Hunter caught the gleam in her eye, and gave her a subtle wink before he appeared to look concernedly at Beverly.  "She's right, you know.  If there's a noise ordinance problem, we'd need to know up front.  Some of our sex parties have a tendency to get a little loud."

Beverly blinked for a moment, then parroted back, "Sex parties?"

"Oh, yeah!"  Hunter smiled, warming to his topic, while Nan tried not to choke on her own tongue at the look on Beverly's face.  "Singles swapping, married couples, same sex surprise week, bring your own edible lubricant nights, leather and S&M bashes once a month. Not to mention  a couple of full-blown orgies about once or twice a year.  Is there a Mr. Chilton, Beverly?"

Through his descriptive listing, Beverly's eyes got wider and wider, her mouth dropping open.  Finally she blinked again, and yelled, "Jackson! Time to go!"

She all but ran away from them, scooping up her daughter, latching on to Jack's hand, and dashing down the beach as Jack waved at them while his mother half dragged him through the sand.  Hunter grinned, laughing, and waggled  his fingers at the departing figure of the little boy.

"You are rotten to the core!"  Nan laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist, lacing her fingers together behind him.

"You started it."  He answered, still laughing, turning in her embrace so that he faced her, and pulling her tighter up against him.  "Besides, she was being a complete bitch and I didn't like what she was implying about you and Kev."

"Yeah," Nan agreed with a grumble.  "I wasn't too thrilled with how she kept eyeing you like you were the last ice-cream sundae on a hot day in August, either."

"Jealous?"  He teased, grinning down at her.

"Jealous, no.  Possessive, emphatically yes," she declared with a feral look in her eyes.

"I can live with that."

"Damn good thing."

Hunter threw his head back in laughter.  "God, baby, have I missed you."  He lowered his gaze to hers, his voice dropping down an octave, into a husky whisper.  "I've missed you so much."

He leaned down, lowering his mouth to hers, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss.  Gentle, but one that spoke volumes. Their mouths mated, tongues dueling for the taste of each other.  Her body melted into his.  Powerful arms banding around her, Hunter pressed her more tightly to him, savoring the faint nudge of her taught nipples and soft breasts, that he could feel through her bathing suit, against his chest.  Her hips twisted and turned against him, entreating him to take this one step further. 

But Hunter pulled back, and he had to smile smugly at the look of blatant frustration that she shot him.  He breathed in, shuddering as he exhaled.  "Baby, as much as I want to…as much as it kills me not to just lay you down in the sand and take you right here, I think…I think we really need to talk first." He groaned, closing his eyes.  "If it ever gets out that I said that, they're gonna revoke my 'Macho' card."

"Yeah.  You're probably right. But I won't tell," she teased.

He lifted his head and fixed her with a tender look.  "I know.  I trust you."

That gave her pause and she had to swallow hard against the knot forming in her throat.  She flashed him a weak smile.  "Talking first would be better.  Because we really don't need you getting arrested for public nudity and lascivious conduct." 

"What about you?"

"I wouldn't make the National Enquirer's front page.  You would."

Hunter chuckled.  "Vince would shit kittens."

"I'd like pictures of that.  We could make a killing with them on Ebay."

"Come on."  Hunter smiled.  "Let's go get comfortable on the patio and work this out."

Nan swallowed hard, nodding, knowing the dreaded moment was finally upon her. There'd be no escaping it this time. And there were so many answers he wanted that she just couldn't provide.  But at least this time, she told herself, if it still ends, we'll have ended in calm honesty rather than anger driven insults and epithets.  She wrapped her arm  around his waist and he threw his arm across her shoulders.  They headed back towards Kevin's house, both ready to put the past behind them and move on.  Together. 

~<>~

Life is very short, and there's no time
For fussing and fighting, my friend.
I have always thought that it's a crime,
So I will ask you once again.
Try to see it my way,
Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong.
While you see it your way
There's a chance that we may fall apart before too long.
We can work it out.
       We Can Work It Out - The Beatles

July 20, 2004  7:49 a.m.
Casa de Nash - The Patio - Key Largo, FL 

They were sitting side by side on the patio glider, each turned slightly so they could see each other.  Hunter regularly pushed his bare toes against the patio's coquina stones so the glider would 'glide' gently back and forth as they talked.  It was a soothing motion, one she could especially appreciate right now, with her stomach tied in knots.  She tucked her feet up under her, laid her arm across the back of the glider and rested her temple on her knuckles, content to just look at him.

"So where do we start this?"

"How about at the beginning?"

"Hunter, I'm being serious here."  Nan protested.

"So am I."  He held up a hand at her look and tried to explain a little better.  "Hold up and let me talk for just a second.  You need to know where I'm coming from here."

"Okay.  Shoot."

"This whole mess started for me the day we went to see your parents before Badd Blood.  That morning, remember?  When I asked you when you'd gotten really blitzed the last time?  You answered almost instantly February 4, 2002.  Then you kept changing the subject.  Later that night I found the picture of you…and Al Snow.  And I tried to not let it bother me.  I really did, baby.  Because you were right in what you said, during the argument, about it being before we got together.  But then I saw him hug you that next night at  RAW and then I found the other pictures…and…" 

Hunter stopped, looked down for a minute, and then looked back up at her and she could see the pain in his eyes.  He was trying so hard.  "I guess I sorta lost my mind there, huh?"

"Maybe a little.  Why didn't you just ask me when you found the first picture?"

"I don't know.  Jealous stupidity, I guess.  But would it have mattered if I had?  I mean, you told me you don't remember that night."

"Not exactly," she denied.  "I remember that night too well. With stark clarity.  I remember what happened before going to the nightclub.  And I remember going to that club with the express intention of drinking enough not to 'feel' any more.  What I don't remember is anything after having just a couple of drinks.  After that, there's nothing else.  Just a complete blank.  Not even blurry images."

"So what could have gone on to make the rest of that happen?"

"Honestly Hunter, I don't know.  I went with Al and Edge.  I didn't even know that Shawn was in town.  Do you really not remember what happened before I went to the club?"

He shook his head.  "No.  I've tried.  Really.  But I just can't place the date."

That twisted in her chest, just a bit, but she squashed it down, refusing to get upset over something that she had no right to let hurt her.  She still believed that she deserved what she got that night, and nothing was going to change her mind about it.  So she felt she couldn't legitimately be upset over his memory lapse.  She fell silent, momentarily distracted by his idle caresses.

Hunter lazily trailed his fingers up, down, and around her arm and elbow as they talked, keeping eye contact with her the whole time.  It was a nice feeling.  One she'd desperately missed, this deeply ingrained need of his to have some sort of physical contact with her while they talked with each other.  It reminded her of the first time she'd noticed him doing that with her.  He didn't do it with everyone.  In point of fact, he only did that with whomever he was 'romantically involved,' for a lack of a better phrase. 

She'd watched him do it some with Chyna, but not much as they were already splitting up when she met him.  And she'd seen him do it a lot with Steph, but only in the early days of their marriage. She remembered not seeing him make those tender touches with Steph after his return in January of 2001.  As a matter of fact, except for that horrible week in February, he'd hardly touched Steph at all, doing just about everything he could to get physically as far from her as possible.  And now he was tracing random patterns on her arm with his fingers.  She smiled, thinking they actually might make it through this after all.

"What?" he asked softly.

"What, what?"

He grinned.  "You're smiling at me.  Why?"

"Just remembering the first time I noticed you doing that," she grazed her fingers over the back of his hand in a gentle caress, indicating his own stroking fingers.

"And when was that, baby?"

"Birmingham, Alabama.  Remember?"

Hunter smiled wider, nodding.  "Of course.  You kept me from going nuts." 

He remembered very clearly. 

~<>~

You don't know how you met me
You don't know why
You can't turn around and say goodbye
All you know is when I'm with you
I make you free
And swim through your veins like a fish in the sea
I'm singin'
Follow me everything is alright
I'll be the one to tuck you in at night
And if you
Want to leave I can guarantee
You won't find nobody else like me
       Follow Me - Uncle Kracker

June through December, 2001
Embassy Suites - Room 217 - Birmingham, Alabama  

He'd been in Birmingham, living like a hermit since his injury in May.  Steph had stayed with him while he was in the hospital, doing the wifely-duty gig, making it look good for the cameras.  But except for that one time they'd come back down to film some of his rehab, she'd not been back, saying the show needed her and she'd be sure and call him to check up on his progress.  He'd felt more like a prize racehorse than a husband.  Stud services included.  And to be brutally honest, he was lonely.

Nan had shown up unannounced, on one Saturday, in June of 2001, with a satellite dish and proceeded to explain that the WWF had sent her to hook it up for him in his hotel room since it had crappy cable.  He let her in and she'd proceeded to set it up for him.  And when she'd finished, he'd readily invited her to visit for a while.  He'd known her for a couple of years, mainly through her dating Jericho, and more recently Kane, although he still hadn't been able to figure that one out.  And he'd sort of known her vicariously through her close friendships with Edge and Al Snow, and of course through Shawn and Kevin when they'd all been tight.  But this had been the first time he'd ever been able to really just sort of sit down and talk to her, just the two of them.  And surprisingly enough, he'd found her easy to be around.  He enjoyed her company.  He actually even liked talking with her. He knew she worked from home, a magazine columnist, and could set her own schedule, so he invited her back the next time she found herself in Alabama.

From that point forward, she'd started to come see him a couple of times a month. The first time had only been for just that day.  Then the weekend.  Then a three-day weekend, surprising him by picking him up at Healthsouth, the rehabilitation facility, and taking him back to the hotel.  Eventually her visits moved up to a almost week at a time.  At least twice a month, he could count on her to show up on a Wednesday evening, cart him to and from rehab on Thursdays and Fridays, keep him company over the weekend, then she'd leave on Sunday evenings. 

He looked forward to her calls, when she wasn't with him, just checking to see how he was doing.  And it wasn't long before he was calling her fairly regularly when she couldn't be in Birmingham.  When she was there, he'd found himself getting irritated when Steph would interrupt their visits with one of her whiney bitch sessions, about whatever crap was going on in the company, tacking on almost as an afterthought to ask how he was doing and that she missed him.  Yeah, right.  He'd always hang up with her, feeling bitter and annoyed at the intrusion.  Just about every time, Nan would rush off right after Steph had called, obviously feeling very ill at ease herself.   She didn't know it, but during the last three months of  Nan had coming to visit him in Birmingham, he'd called down to the front desk to hold all of his calls, and that he'd get the messages later.  That way they'd not been interrupted by the looming specter of his wife.

Every time she came to visit, he always told her she could stay in his room, if she wanted to.  And every time she refused.  His invitation to stay was always above-board, because after all, she had a seven-foot-one, three hundred-plus-pound boyfriend with a temper straight from the bowels of Hell, and he was married to the Billion Dollar Princess.  There was nothing lascivious about his invitations.  Just that she didn't have to drag her tired self back to wherever she was staying at three or four in the morning when they'd stayed up too late, watching movies, television, playing chess, cards, or more likely just talking.

Over the course of his eight-month rehabilitation, they'd gotten to know each other fairly well. It surprised him how different they were, and how it didn't really seem to matter.  They shared more commonalties than he'd ever suspected, liking the same types of movies, art, and sports.  She liked some of the same musical groups that he did, but then again, he'd found out she listened to anything from AC/DC to Yanni and everything that hit in between.  They even liked some of the same pieces of classical literature. She had a passion for English literature, and he liked the American authors.  But they'd both read enough of each that they could discuss them in a reasonably educated manner.  They felt similar on quite a few political topics.  Their differences really spiced things up, too.  Like the heated discussions on religion and current events.  They almost always picked opposing teams in football and proceeded to seriously 'trash talk' the other team during the game.  When they'd watch wrestling together, he spent an equal amount of time watching her as he did watching the matches.  She loved the business, and was very vocal about her likes, dislikes, and concerns over the talent in the ring. He really liked how family oriented she was, regaling him with tales of her family gatherings with her parents, all of her siblings and their children.  On more than one occasion he actually had to ask her to stop, because he couldn't breathe from laughter.   And what he liked the most was that she assumed that he was intelligent, rather than being surprised by it.

Looking back on it now, he could easily see what had been happening between them.  But he'd been too dense to recognize it then, though, too wrapped up in trying to get back into the ring.

Only once did she ever agree to stay in his room, and she hadn't actually agreed to stay.  It just sort of...happened.  It had been the last time he'd seen her alone, in December of 2001, right before he'd gone home for a week's worth of rest, more training before his return, and Christmas with his wife and her family. He was leaving for Connecticut the next afternoon, and he'd specifically called and asked if she would come down for his last night there.  She'd agreed, but she'd gotten there later than usual that Wednesday night, for reasons she'd never explained. But she had called him once she was on the road to tell him she'd not be there until around eight. He'd been a little disappointed that they'd not have as much time together as he'd originally planned, so he'd stayed later at rehab than he normally would, getting back to the hotel just in time for her to be there, but not early enough for him to shower.  When she knocked on his door, and he opened it to see her standing there, his disappointment over the less amount of time was washed away.  He decided then and there that whatever had kept her later in leaving had definitely been worth it.

Usually she came to see him in jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers.  Not this time.  This time she was dressed in a cinnamon suede pantsuit, a matching jacket, and cinnamon suede high heeled boots.  A deep coral colored lacy camisole peeped out from the lapels of her jacket, and drew his attention to the line of her throat as it curved into the swell of her breasts, pressing against the jacket.  That mass of red hair was curled up in a French twist, with wisps escaping to curl gently around her face.  She looked beautiful.  And he told her so.

Even with all of that time on his hands, he'd not bothered with thoughts of Christmas at all, not even to figure out if he wanted to try and get gifts for the McMahons, Stephanie especially.  But he had gotten something for Nan.  Didn't even think hard about it either.  Just a simple silver 'H' on a delicate silver chain.  He'd even ordered it off one of those home-shopping channels from his hotel room.  She'd refused it at first, claiming she had nothing for him.  But he'd insisted, saying it was the least he could do for her since she'd helped keep him sane during his recovery.  He fastened it around her throat, his fingers tingling where they came in contact with the soft skin at the base of her neck.  He got a hug for his thoughtfulness, and he still swore to this day that he'd gotten kicked in the stomach - from the inside - when she'd put her arms around him. 

After he'd given her the necklace, he'd told her that they were going to go out. 

She protested. 

He told her he didn't care.  They were going out to dinner, a movie, to a nightclub, whatever she wanted to do.  But they were going out, because if he didn't get out of the hotel he was going to lose it and take half of Birmingham with him.  But he needed a shower first.  He came out of the bathroom, barefooted and shirtless, wearing only his dress pants, toweling off his hair.  He called out to her, but she didn't answer.  So, he stuck his head out of the dressing area to ask her if she'd decided what she wanted to do, only to see her curled up on his bed, fast asleep.  He walked over to the edge of the bed, and gently sat down.  He sat there, smiling down at her for a moment, contemplating waking her.  Then he saw the dark circles under her eyes.  He'd only been in the shower for about fifteen minutes, so she'd dropped off almost immediately.  She was exhausted and it showed.

Quickly making a decision, he stood up, pulled down the covers on the side of the bed she wasn't lying on, and gently repositioned her so she was resting between the sheets.  Before covering her up, he removed her boots, hesitating only a split second before stripping her slacks and stockings off of her as well, leaving her in her the lacy camisole and, he groaned mentally, the matching lacy coral French-cut panties.  He expected her to wake up, but she didn't.  However, she did make small noises of protest when he moved away from her.  She rolled in her sleep, almost instinctively turning towards him. 

He stood at the edge of the bed, fighting with himself.  There was only one bed in the room.  And the thought of waking her up to send her to wherever she was staying that night turned his mouth down into a scowl.  Due to his leg, he really shouldn't sleep in the chair by the table.  And the floor was out of the question.  Before he could change his mind, he shucked off his pants, down to his boxers, draped them over the chair, and slid into bed beside her.  He set the sleep function on the television for thirty minutes, turned the volume down low, and clicked off the lights. 

He lay there, listening to her breathe, refusing to even look at her, even though she was facing him, thinking he wouldn't sleep all night.  So he was very surprised to find himself suddenly wide awake at 2:27 a.m. according to the bedside clock, his heart pounding at the unfamiliar sensation of an arm around his waist, and a head on his shoulder.  He suffered a momentary flash of panic, knowing damn well that Steph wasn't a cuddler.  She usually pushed him away in the night until he was lying on the edge of their bed.  That's when it hit him.  This wasn't Steph.  He shifted a bit, smiling sleepily as she nestled in closer, and put his arm around her, letting his fingers sink into that mass of hair that trailed down her back.  Within seconds, he was fast asleep again. 

When morning came, she wasn't cuddled against him anymore.  He'd rolled to his stomach at some point during the night.  He reached out for her, only to come up with empty sheets.  Coming fully awake immediately, he looked around the room, and even listened for the shower.  Nothing.  She wasn't in the hotel room.  Then he saw the note-card with his name on it on the nightstand. 

Opening it, he knew she'd gone back to her life in North Carolina.  Inside were only four words written in her loopy scrawl, Thank you.  Merry Christmas.  With an odd emptiness that he couldn't explain and didn't really want to examine very closely, he got up, packed up his things, checked out of the hotel, and went back to Connecticut…to his career….and to his wife.

~<>~

Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance.
Another heartache - another failed romance.
On and on!
Does anybody know what we are living for?
I guess I'm learning.
I must be warmer now.
I'll soon be turning round the corner now.
Outside the dawn is breaking,
But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free!
The Show Must Go On - Queen

July 20, 2004  8:15 a.m.
Casa de Nash - The Patio - Key Largo, FL 

"Hey,  where'd you go?" her voice called to him gently.

His lips turned up at the corners, before answering.  "Birmingham.  I was remembering when I gave you this."  He touched the silver 'H' with the tip of his index finger, where it lay just below the hollow of her throat.  Come to think of it, he couldn't remember her not wearing it.   Ever.  "Did I ever tell you that when you hugged me that night that it felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach?"

Nan smiled, leaning into his caress as his fingers trailed up her neck, to cup her cheek.  "Uhm…no.  Can't say as you ever did."

"Yeah," he laughed, tucking a strand of that coppery red hair of hers behind one delicate ear.  "But that didn't begin to compare to how I felt the first time I ever kissed you.  I thought for a minute I'd been struck by lightning."

Suddenly memories he'd not thought about for a while came slamming back into his brain. And those memories brought along with them the all-important significance behind that date that had been plaguing him for over a month now.   It was the date he didn't remember.  Not the night itself.  That night was permanently burned into his brain.

The night he'd first kissed her.

"My God," he whispered, remembering something else too.

It had been the same night Steph had announced to him, and to the world, that she was pregnant. 

~<>~

Maybe it's intuition
But some things you just don't question
Like in your eyes
I see my future in an instant
And there it goes
I think I've found my best friend
I know that it might sound more than
A little crazy but I believe
I knew I loved you before I met you
I think I dreamed you into life
I knew I loved you before I met you
I have been waiting all my life
       I Know I Loved You - Savage Garden

February 4, 2002  4:45 p.m. PST
RAW - Triple H's dressing room - Las Vegas, Nevada 

"You know Hunter, you've really changed."

Hunter rolled his eyes and nodded sarcastically, recognizing the flinty sound in his wife's voice as the herald to another long, tedious bitching-out he was about to receive.  What the hell he'd done to deserve this one, he couldn't even begin to imagine.  He half-hoped his obvious lack of concern would give her a clue.  No such luck.

Steph had already warmed to her topic and was off and running.  "You haven't even publicly acknowledge my contributions to your success!  My contributions to your comeback!  My contributions to you winning the Royal Rumble!!"

He'd heard enough.  "Why don't you make a contribution, right now, to my sanity, and do the one thing you never seem to be able to do."  He paused, chewing his gum as she somehow managed to look up at him and stare down her nose at him all at the same time.  Then he leaned in and growled, "Shut up!"

If he had thought that would be the end of it, he was  sadly mistaken.  However, knowing his wife like he did, he had no such delusions.  Which was why, as she drew in a double lung-full to start her shrieking all over again, he just turned around, headed back to the couch and sat down to begin lacing up his boots.  With a smug half-grin, he turned a deaf ear to Steph's ravings, and focused on more interesting things…like pounding Angle's face repeatedly into an exposed turnbuckle until he looked more like ground meat than a former Olympic Gold Medallist.  He chuckled, thinking that there were definitely some fantasies worth striving to turn into realities.

Then he heard it…and immediately thought that he'd pulled it straight out of his memories.  He stopped lacing his boots and listened harder, only vaguely aware of the annoying buzz in the background that indicated his wife was still bitching about something.  He heard it again.  And smiled, going back to lacing up his boots, his spirits much lighter than in a long, long time.

He heard her laughing somewhere down the corridor outside of his dressing room.  He'd not seen her since December, except for rare glances, shared smiles and waves in the corridors of various arenas every now and then. But she was here tonight, and right outside his door from what it sounded like.  Certainly, he'd not had any chance to actually talk to her. Not with Steph shoved halfway up his ass since he'd returned. 

The woman - his wife, he had to remind himself - had all but abandoned him for almost eight months while he recovered from a career threatening injury.  Oh, she'd been the perfect image of concern and support when the cameras were rolling.  But even that started to fade about a week after he got back.  The things he'd been hearing about her behavior while he was out made his blood boil.  They'd been fighting constantly for a little over a month.  And she wouldn't let him out of her sight.  Not even to talk to a friend.

He heard her laugh again.  And he couldn't stop the stupid grin from spreading across his face.  But it faded quickly enough.

"Hunter, are you even listening to me?!"  Steph sniped at him, her face growing more pinched by the minute, her sharp chin jutting out just a little further.

"No," he answered with brutal honesty, getting up and crossing to the mirror over the counter.  "And before you get good and started, I also have no intention of listening to you either.  Not now.  I'm going out there to finish Angle once and for all.  And I don't need you yammering at me before I do it either.  He fucked with the wrong guy last Thursday and it's time he realized that."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to discuss with you!" her voice rose in pitch yet again.

Hunter leaned forward, bracing on his fists on the counter top in front of the mirror, avoiding looking at his wife who glowered over his shoulder at him. The woman wouldn't know a real discussion if it bit her on the ass.  He knew the difference.  He'd just had about eight months worth of real discussions…discussions that he didn't have any more, thanks to her.

"Steph, we don't have discussions.  We never have.  All we ever do is I listen to you bitch and whine about whatever it is you want.   And if I don't capitulate immediately, then I'm treated to another round listening to you trying wheedle me into doing whatever it is you wanted me to do in the first place.  Well, I'm sick of it Steph.  And it ain't happening tonight."

She puffed up with indignation better than Rikishi could ever wish for, practically spitting her words at him, "Fine, Hunter!  Just fine!  But you'd just better remember one thing.  You may be Triple H, but I'm still Stephanie McMahon, and you might just wanna keep in mind exactly what that entails!"  She whirled around on her absurdly expensive and too-high heels, and slammed out of the dressing room.

As the door shuddered from the motion, he breathed a sigh of relief.  "As long as it gets you outta my face, I don't give a damn what it entails.  Bitch."

Remembering the laughter he heard prior to Steph starting up another one of her tirades, he walked over to the door, opened it, and poked his head out, looking first to the right and then to the left.  But she wasn't anywhere to be seen. Sighing he lowered his gaze to the red-tiled floor, just about ready to go back inside when he heard it.

"Hey, Hunter."

He looked up, smiling widely.  Evidently she'd stepped around the corner just before he'd opened the door.  "Hey.  You got a second?"

"Sure.  What's up?"

"Come on in here, where we can talk in private."  He looked up and down the corridor again, as more and more people started milling around with it getting close to show time. He was grinning like a fool, he knew, but he didn't care.  He opened the door wider and ushered her inside, forgetting to close the door all the way in the process.

She turned around, smiling at him, not noticing the door either.  "How's the leg?"

"Huh?  Oh.  Fine.  Tender, some.  But okay.  Haven't seen you in a while.  You look great."

In truth, she looked fantastic, he thought to himself, still grinning down at her.  He'd forgotten how short she was in comparison to his own height, even in those sexy black heels she was wearing.  But, considering most of the time they'd spent together in Birmingham usually entailed him either being in a wheel chair or leaning on crutches, it wasn't all that surprising. 

He took note of her short, red skirt and black silk blouse, open just enough so he could see the silver chain he'd given her for Christmas, the 'H' gleaming brightly against the skin just below the hollow of her throat.  Only once had he even considered that giving her something with his initial wouldn't be a good idea…and he'd mentioned it to her after presenting her with it.  But she'd informed him that her mother's maiden name was Harrell so, it could easily be a reminder of her maternal grandparents.

"Thanks.  You look pretty great yourself, there Champ," she said a little breathlessly.

Hunter looked down at his boots, pads and trunks, then back at her, slightly confused.  "Just my ring gear."

"Mmm-hmm."  She smiled, her eyes dancing. 

     "You and Kane going jukin' after the program tonight?" he asked, waving a hand at her outfit.

"Kane?  Dancing?  You gotta be kidding me."  She laughed.  "No, Al and Edge and I are gonna hit that new spot down by the Strand.  Pagan's.  Ever been there?"

"Nah.  Save me a dance, though.  I'll be sure and drop by."

"You dance?"  she asked disbelieving. 

"Sometimes."  He shrugged.  "I've been known to 'trip it, as you go, on the light fantastic toe'."

"Oh, very good!  Someone knows his Shakespeare."  Her smile brightened, and he felt absurdly pleased with himself.  "Okay, Hunter.  You show at Pagan's tonight and you've got yourself a dance."

"Kane doesn't mind you going out without him?"  At her negative shrug, he shook his  head.  "Be damned if I'd let my girl go out with two other men dressed like you are."

"And what, precisely, is wrong with how I'm dressed," she asked, her eyebrows narrowing, a spark of a fire he'd not ever seen before dancing behind her eyes.  He liked it.

He held up both hands, his eyes going comically wide, as he warded her off.  "Ease up there, baby.  There's not a thing wrong with how you're dressed.  I'm just saying I'd not let you go without me, if I were him."

"Oh.  Well, okay, then. I think." 

"How're you guys doing anyway?  You two thinking of getting serious?"

Nan shook her head.  "No.  We're about the same as we were the last time I saw you."

"Man's an idiot," Hunter muttered beneath his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."  He denied, falling silent again, feeling tension creep up his spine.

"What'd you need to see me about?" she asked after a moment of the growing tension in the room.

He shrugged a imposing shoulder.  "Just wondering why I'd not seen or heard from you before now.  Except in passing."

Her smile faded a bit, her cheeks going slightly pink.  "Oh, well, I just…Hunter, I don't want to start any bad feelings between you and Steph."

"Why would she get upset for me talking to you?"

She fixed him with an incredulous look, "Now you are kidding me, right?  After what happened with you and Trish?  And that was even innocent.  Well, on your part, maybe.  Not hers.  Still, Steph freaked.  Freaked.  We’re talkin' Daffy Duck kind of freaking too.  She freaked out of the room, all down the hallway and continued freaking right out into the street!  How do you think she'd react if she knew about all the time I spent with you in Birmingham?"

Neither of them noticed the door to the dressing room opening just a cat's-hair wider, or the different shadows that immediately stopped moving outside the open door when she said that, their voices carrying easily out into the hallway.

He nodded, "Yeah, good point.  But nothing happened."

"We both know that.  But do you think she'd believe that?  I mean really.  She caught Trish just bending over in front of you.  What do you think she'd do if she knew I came to see you as often as I did, for as long as I did, and didn't leave your room until almost dawn on several occasions?"  she asked, searching his face as he ran his hand over his beard, thinking.

"And that last night when you didn't leave," He watched her face closely for any reaction.  He'd wanted to talk to her about that night in particular several times, but this was his first opportunity to get her alone where he could.

She seemed to melt into a smile, her whole body relaxing, becoming more approachable than she'd been since coming through the door.  She took a step towards him, laid a hand on his upper arm and squeezed gently.  She favored him with a tender smile.  "Best night of sleep I've had in a very long time."

His breathing hitched in his chest for a second at the sleepy look in her eyes, full of heat that he seriously doubted she was even aware of. He cleared his throat, his voice deep and rough.  "Yeah.  Me too."

They stood in easy silence for a minute just staring at each other, until the tension between them built back up again.  She dropped her hand and moved backward a pace, crossing her arms over her chest.  "She can't find out about that.  She wouldn't understand.  No woman would.  I know I damn sure wouldn't."

Hunter nodded, agreeing with her.  Steph finding out about that night alone might be the end of his marriage, he thought.  And oddly enough, he couldn't really find a downside to that possibility, nor did it bother him nearly as much as he thought it might.  "You've got a valid point there.  No, Steph doesn't need to know about that.  If she did, she'd probably work up a restraining order barring you from ever being on any property that the WWF was performing at.  Or worse." 

Her eyes hardened and that fire in them grew brighter.  "I'd like to see her try and make it stick. The Billion Dollar Princess does not intimidate me."

"And she knows it, too.  I think that's why she never liked you much," Hunter chuckled appreciatively.

"Oh, like I care.  Big sleep loss over that one," she snorted.

"Stick or not, it'd be uncomfortable and complicated.  I don't want that to happen, Nan."

"Neither do I.  It'd definitely put a major cramp in my friendships around here.  Not to mention Kane wouldn't be at all pleased."

Hunter's expression soured at the mention of Kane yet again.  He changed the topic.  "Speaking of Birmingham, how'd you get them to send you down with the satellite dish?  You don't work for the company.  Never have either, if I remember right."

Nan's cheeks tinged with pink.  "Arn Anderson."

"Huh?  What'd Arn have to do with it?"

"I've known Arn since…well, for a long time."  She sighed.  "I told him I had business in Birmingham that week and I'd take it and set it up for you so they wouldn't have to pay someone to do it.  I sold satellite dishes one summer during college so I know how to install them.  He agreed."

"Did they at least pay for the dish?" he frowned, knowing just how tight on the purse strings Vince could be. 

"Oh, yeah.  But since I was going down there anyway…"

"They just saved a buck."  He thought for a moment, his brows drawing together in a frown.   "Wait a minute. You were just starting out with the magazine back in May and I know you still live in North Carolina."

He fixed her with a probing gaze, "Nan, you didn't have any business in Birmingham, did you?"

She hesitated a moment, her eyes going flat, concealing anything in them he might read.  She was good, he had to give her credit for that.  But she couldn't shutter those windows to her soul as effectively around him as she believed, he thought.  Birmingham had taught him that.

She finally shook her head, the pink in her cheeks tingeing even further, and he thought she looked decidedly uncomfortable.  "No.  I didn't."

"Then why…"

"Hunter, please," she whispered, looking away from him.  "Please, don't ask me that."

He stepped closer to her, tipping her face up with an index finger to look at him.  Her eyes were shining.  Not glassy, but shining.  His breath caught in his chest and he felt that inside-stomach-kick-thing again, as when she'd hugged him before Christmas last year.  "Why, Nan?"

"Because…I - I wanted to see you."

"Why?"  He asked again.  "We barely even knew each other then."

She stepped back, breaking the minimal contact between them.  "Because…because I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why," he repeated, having really no conscious reason for pushing this question with her.  He just knew…knew…that her answer was extremely important.  "Why did it matter to you?"

She shook her head, looking around for escape.  She backed up another few paces until the wall stopped her reverse momentum..  "I can't…I can't do this…I can't…you're…you're a married man.  I can't…"

Hunter took another step toward her, putting one hand against the wall beside her head, effectively blocking her escape route.  He looked straight down into her eyes, pinning her in place with his gaze.  "Why, Nan?"

"Because….because…"

"Why," he whispered one last time, his face only inches from hers.

"Because I love you!"  Immediately her eyes widened and her hands flew up to cover her mouth, horrified that she had actually said that aloud.  

Hunter felt like he'd taken a blow to the gut from his own sledge.  "You love me?"

She just nodded behind the hand still covering her mouth, looking like she was going bolt on him.  Hunter  leaned in just a bit to prevent it and reached up, pulled her hand away from her face, then ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek, savoring the feel of the her soft skin against his hand.  When she turned her head and closed her eyes, a look of contrition on her face, he dropped his hand.

"You love me," he whispered almost to himself.

She turned back to look up at him, her eyes wide and glassy, and so filled with regret that it gnawed at him.  She nodded.  It was almost like he'd pulled a cork from a bottle, the words just bubbled up, spilled over, and would not stop. 

"God, help me, but I do.  And I couldn't stand the thought of you being down there all by yourself, in all that pain, with no one…no one…to help you, or make you smile, or even laugh if you needed it.  To get your mind off your injury and career for just one single minute." 

"Even your own wife," she spat the word with more venom and malice than he'd ever heard her use before, and the depth of that obvious loathing did weird things to his insides. But she continued, almost unable to stop the flow of words spewing forth.  "Especially after I found out she'd come back.  Hell!  She's the fucking owner's daughter, for Christ's sake!  She could have taken the time off!  It was  killing me inside, Hunter.  I had to know if you were okay.  I had to."

She wiped angrily at a stray tear that rolled lazily down her cheek, her eyes lit from behind with a tint of rage that he recognized all too easily.  She understood fury, wrath, anger, and hatred because she lived with it every day.  He could see it in that unholy gleam brightening her eyes. Yet unlike his affinity for the darker emotions, which he usually wore on his sleeve, hers were like a deep vein of crude oil.  They had to be tapped before you saw them.  And he could easily imagine that when it was tapped and when  that geyser blew, God have mercy!

He'd had an inkling that she found him attractive.  He'd caught enough covert glances and a slight pinking of her cheeks too many times during their time together in Birmingham to not notice it.  He may have been fixated on getting his career back, but he wasn't stupid.  Or brain dead.  However, he had no idea that her feelings ran this deeply, either for him, or the depth of her anger towards his wife. And again, he found himself liking it.

"You love me,"  he repeated yet again, still rocked from her declaration.

She nodded, wiping at her face, her eyes blazing with anger at herself for being forced into a corner, into revealing her secret.  "May God forgive me, but I do.  I have since '99."

"But you were dating Jericho."

She nodded. "Not at first. You were with Chyna.  You were off-limits.  So when Chris asked me out, shortly after you and I met, I went.  Because, normally, I'm not the type to go after another woman's man."

"You didn't even really know me back then. Just only in passing. How could you possibly..."

"Shawn."

"What?" he asked surprised, his brows drawing together.

She leaned her head back against the wall, and just looked back up at him, her answers coming seemingly of their own volition. "Shawn and I have been friends for a long time. But I think you know about that."

At his nod, she continued. "We've been writing and talking on the phone for years now, about whatever was going on in our lives at the time. When you and he teamed up, he just started including news about you in his letters to me. I got to know you through them. Not once did he mention that you were already involved with Chyna. I found out about that later on. And almost immediately after you and she split, you turned right around and married Stephanie. So actually meeting you in '99 was kind of anti-climactic for me.  I felt like I'd known you all along, and was already half in love with you by then."

Hunter stood silently as she explained, processing everything she was admitting to, almost as fast as the words came out of her mouth. Shawn had done the same thing to him for years too, telling him all about this great friend of his, and how much he'd like her. Sneaky little bastard. He fought back a smile, having to remind himself how much he now hated his former best friend.

"And Birmingham," he whispered low in his throat, his voice more like a rumble.

"Just made it worse.  Stronger.  More real.  And more painful."

Hunter lifted his right hand to slide it in gentle stroking motions, up and down her arm, enjoying the feel of the silk of her blouse against his callused palm.  "Painful?"

"Yeah," she breathed softly, shuddering under his touch just a bit, but enough for him to notice the small tremors, and grin.

"It hurts to love me?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes filling up, and again spilling over.  Something in Hunter's chest twisted, making it difficult for him to draw a deep breath, at the sight of those big dark gypsy-eyes with tears in them.  These were real tears.  Not those forced, fake ones that Steph always used to try and sway him.

"Why?"

"Because you're married, Hunter.  I can't have…it's just wrong, okay?  It goes against everything  I was raised to believe in.  God!"  She bit out angrily, scrubbing at the offensive tears on her face with the back of her hand.  "Why can't I just lie to you?!"

He quirked a half-smile at her.  "Because you love me."

She nodded again.  "I may end up serving drinks on the bus headed straight for Hell, for falling in love with a married man, but yes.  I do."

He couldn't suppress the chuckle at her analogy.  "Well, if you do end up serving drinks on that bus, at least you'll be in good company."

Hunter leaned a hairbreadth nearer, lowering his mouth to taste those sinful lips with exquisite slowness.  The instant their lips met, lightning surged up his spine, racing throughout his body, threatening to explode out of the top of his head.  His muscles gathered against hers, tucking her into all the sculpted places of his body.  He enfolded her in his arms, nearly crushing her to him.

Perhaps it was knowing how she felt about him, or perhaps it was just her, but he'd never felt the way he felt now.  As lightening raced through his veins, it was almost as if his senses heightened, focusing in on this woman in a way he'd never been aware of before.

The too-fast, rapid beating of her heart against his chest.  The feel of her softness under the layers of muscle he'd draped over her.  Her every breath becoming his as his mouth prowled hers hungrily, coaxing her lips wide, thrusting his tongue inside devouring, demanding a reply.

She finally replied with the only answer that made any sense.  Her hands curled around his neck, and he groaned into her mouth when she began kissing him back.  She tasted of sweetness and spice at the same time.  Bold and brassy, while so soft and yielding to him that he craved more.  When she threaded her fingers into the thick strands of hair laying against his neck, he was no longer able to entertain thoughts of propriety, common sense, or conscience. 

Pressing her even closer, he fit  her hips against his, by bending his knees just a bit, to compensate for their height difference, bringing her into blatant contact with the evidence of what their kiss was doing to him.  With a soft mewling noise low in the back of her throat, she cradled him, her fingers twisting even deeper into his hair.  He slid one hand to the small of her back pinning her against him, and moved the other upward to fist in those luscious copper tresses.

A not-so discreet cough from the open doorway had the same effect on them as if someone had dumped as a bucket of ice over their heads.  They jumped apart like a fire had sprung up between them.  And one had.  But this one couldn't be doused with water to put it out.

Hunter ran a hand through his hair, breathing out shakily, his body still blazing from the kiss they'd shared.  Just a simple kiss and he felt like he was burning alive from the inside out.   Turning his attention to the door, he fixed a malicious glare on their intruder.  Al Snow stood just inside the doorway, looking down at the floor, both hands on his hips, obviously doing his best not to look at either of them. 

Hunter quickly turned his gaze back on Nan.  She had her head lowered, her cheeks flaming red in mortification.  She was busily wringing her hands, or so he thought.  On his second glance, he saw that one hand was raking short nails down the back of the other, and the look on her face was filled with self-loathing.

He reached out, covering both of her hands in one of his, stilling the nervous scratching immediately.  "Don't."

She peeked up at him, and he could see the shame in her eyes, before she looked back down again.   That look ate away at him, burning in his belly like acid. But at the same time it re-kindled that raging inferno in his blood.  God, he wanted nothing more than to pull her up tightly against him and lose himself in her softness.  To turn that look of shame and embarrassment in those gypsy eyes of hers into desire, lust, and the passion for him that he now knew boiled in her veins.  Now he knew why she was sure to keep physical distance between them in Birmingham. She'd gone out of her way to stay hands off, except for when he'd needed her help.  And then it was always clinical touches.  Helping steady him as he moved into or out of the wheelchair, lending a shoulder when he first tried the crutches outside of the rehab center.  That sort of thing.

Nothing…nothing…compared to what had just happened between them.  If just one taste of her had inflamed him this much, then it was definitely a good thing she'd kept him at arms length all this time.  He decided then and there that both of them being so exhausted that night they'd shared a bed was definitely divine intervention.  If it hadn't been, then they'd have a lot more to feel guilty over than just a kiss.  A whole lot more.  And divine intervention, fate, karma, whatever you wanted to call it…God, help him….he now craved that 'whole lot more.'

He didn't even realize he was leaning in towards her again, until Al spoke up, "Come on, Nan.  Time to go."

Although he stopped his forward momentum, Hunter placed one finger under her chin, tilting it up so he could look into her eyes.  For a split second, he could have sworn he could see his future shinning in those dark depths.  He smiled, knowing that somehow it would work out in the end.

"You don't have to leave," Hunter stated firmly.

Al answered for her, looking directly at them for the first time since coming into the dressing room.  "Yes, she does.  Kane's looking for you, hon.  And you," he pointed at Hunter, "are on in fifteen."

"He's right.  I do have to go."  Her voice dropped in pitch and volume, adding almost as an afterthought, "I shouldn't even have come in here in the first place."

She turned to leave, but Hunter still had hold of her hand and he wasn't letting go.  She looked down at the floor.  "Hunter, please."

"Don't go.  Not yet," he asked, threading his fingers through hers.

"I have to.  I can't…stay…Hunter, please," she all but cried, but still taking a step back towards him.

Hunter sighed.  "Okay.  But at least promise me you'll wait for me at Pagan's like you said."

She nodded, still not looking at him.  He tugged her around until he could cradle the back of her head in his hand, the fingers on his other hand still intertwined with hers.  "It'll be okay, baby.  We'll work this out.  Somehow."

Not giving a damn about the condemning glare Al tossed his way, Hunter pressed his lips gently to Nan's forehead, then pulled back to look her in the eyes, and smile.  Only once those chocolate orbs were shining again, did he let her go.

He watched her walk out, smiling back at her when she paused at the doorway long enough to look back over her shoulder at him.  Then she was gone. 

Al waited just until she was out of sight down the hallway before he shut the door behind her and turned to face Hunter.  Folding his arms across his chest, he just frowned at the bigger man.

"You got something to say, Snow?  Spit it out."  He moved his attention to tightening his elbow pads.

"Don't do this to her, Helmsley."

Hunter continued his adjustments, moving on to his kneepads.  "This isn't any of your business, Snowman.  So just stay out of it."

"The hell it's not my business!"  Al yelled at him, then immediately dropped his voice.  "Nan's a friend of mine.  A good friend.  One with shitty taste in men, apparently, considering her serious lack of judgment in falling for you. And only God knows why she did! But that's beside the point."

"Then what is your point, Al?  Like you said, I'm on in a few minutes." 

"She deserves better than this."

Hunter looked up at him, glaring coldly, his nostrils flaring.  "You mean better than me, right?"

"You said it.  Not me." Al shrugged.  "But she can't have you, now can she?  Unless, you're planning on divorcing Steph, before you move on to Nan?  Unless that's what you meant by working things out, huh?" 

At Hunter's stoic silence and hard gaze, Al shook his head and sneered.  "I didn't think so.  Some how she's got it in her head that under all those pounds of shit you call a personality, that you're an honorable man.  Honorable.  That's the word she uses.  You're some sort of fucking hero in her eyes.  Only God knows why."

"Maybe she sees something you don't,"  Hunter growled, his rage boiling up to the surface.

"I'd like to think that, but I'm just not buying it.  And I've known you longer than she has."  Al glared at him in contempt.  "If you were an honorable man, Helmsley, you wouldn't have so conveniently forgotten that you've got a wife who might frown on what just happened in here, not to mention what you guys were talking about happening months ago!"

"Nothing happened in Birmingham!" Hunter bellowed.

"Oh, bullshit!"  Al roared back, obviously not in the least intimidated by the Game's wrath.  "Maybe nothing physical happened, but goddamn, Hunter!  You know as well as I do that something happened between the two of you during all that time.  And don't bother denying it, because I sure as hell don't wanna hear it.  Lie to yourself if it'll make you feel better about it.  Ease that guilty conscience of yours over treating a woman who fucking adores you like some damn mistress to be fucked at your leisure and then disregarded when you need the respectability a wife will provide!"

Hunter was shaking with rage, his muscles tense and coiled, ready to spring.  "Get out."

"Oh, I'm going, all right.  But before I do, let me inform you of just how wonderful you've just made her life.  The reason, asshole, that you didn't hear me come in was because you left the goddamn door open!  Every fucking word you two said and everything you did was witnessed by anyone who happened to pass by."

"Who…who was out there," Hunter asked, swallowing hard, a cold knot of dread forming in the pit of his stomach.

"You want the list?  Okay, chew on this, big man."  Al began to tick off names on his fingers.  "Michael Cole, Ric Flair, Undertaker, the APA, Spike, Arn, Regal, Coach, the whole Right To Censor contingency, and Angle.  And that doesn't include all of the toadies, ring-rats, and technical staff!"

Al didn't even try to conceal the vindictive smirk that stole across his face, when he saw the green-around-the-gills look that washed over Hunter's. 

"You're fucked, Helmsley, and not in that warm and fuzzy way either.  And sadly enough, so is Nan.  Good job.  Hope you're proud of yourself.  And as for your wife not finding out about tonight?  Kiss that dream goodbye, Triple H."  Al turned back and glared at him one last time.  "Oh, and Hunter?  Do Nan a favor.  Don't show up at Pagan's tonight."

He slammed the door on his exit.  Hunter just stood in the center of the dressing room for a moment, his mind whirling at how quickly his whole life had unraveled in the space of just forty-five minutes.  He collapsed onto the couch, bracing his head in his hand, elbows planted firmly on his kneepads, unable to slow the thoughts crashing around in his brain. 

Undertaker and Angle saw him kiss her.  Heard them talking.  About them.  About Birmingham.  Angle was probably already on his way to Steph.  And Vince.  Taker was Kane's brother.  No way in hell Taker would keep it to himself.  And what would Kane do to Nan when he found out?  Dear God, what had he done? 

~<>~

What shall we use
To fill the empty spaces
Where we used to talk?
How shall I fill
The final places?
How should I complete the wall?
       Empty Spaces - Pink Floyd

February 4, 2002   6:57 p.m. PST
RAW - Triple H's dressing room - Las Vegas, Nevada 

"I kicked Angle's ass before and I'll do it again!"  Hunter growled as he paced back and forth in his dressing room, behind the couch where his wife sat, smiling to herself.  The very picture of congeniality.

Steph was gloating. Gloating.  Absolutely overflowing with it.  To the point where it saturated the very air he was breathing.  And he was so enraged he was on the verge of exploding.  She just sat there with her smug attitude, her simpering smile, and affected 'doe-eyes,' making him want to puke.  First Snow, then Booker T, then last Angle and now her. He'd been completely unable to locate either Undertaker, Kane or Nan to make sure everything was okay. And he had no idea if Angle had told Steph what he'd seen.  Those damn security guards had made sure he couldn't get to the Olympic twerp long enough to find out.  His blood began boiling again.

"And just what in the hell are you smiling about?!"

She just twittered inanely up at him.  "I have a big surprise and you will have to wait and see.  Because I'll reveal the surprise tonight in the ring!"  She flounced up off the couch, leaned up to give his lips a quick peck then all but skipped out of the dressing room.

Hunter stood, fists on his hips, burning holes through the door with his gaze.  She knew.  He could feel it.  He'd been with her long enough to know when she was up to something and tonight she definitely had something boiling in her cauldron.  Shaking his head, began to change into his street clothes.

Didn't matter, he told himself.  He was done.  He'd had all he was gonna take from that witch.  One way or the other, this farce of a marriage ended tonight. 

~<>~

All alone, or in two's,
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists
Make their stand.
       Outside The Wall - Pink Floyd

February 4, 2002  7:07 p.m. PST
RAW - backstage viewing room - Las Vegas, Nevada 

Edge craned his neck looking for his friends, as he entered the viewing room, where most of the talent either waited to go on, or came back after their matches to watch the others wrestling that night.  Quickly, he spotted Nan's fiery head bent towards Al as she listened and nodded at whatever he was saying to her. But the moment Triple H's music started to play on the monitor, both heads popped up and they stared at the screen.  Edge made his way over to them, noting absently that a lot of faces turned his way as he headed to where they sat.  At first, he thought they were staring at him, but then he saw that they were staring at her.  Covert glances, blatant stares, whisperings behind hands and the occasional pointing of fingers.  He didn't know what was going on, but it was starting to piss him off. 

"You guys about ready to go," he asked as he came up beside them.

Nan waved a hand, at the empty chair beside her.   "Shush.  Steph's up to something.  I wanna hear this."

Glaring around at some of the more obvious ones making murmured comments that he couldn't quite hear, Edge flipped the folding chair around and straddled it, folding his arms across the back.  He turned his attention up to the monitor to see Steph standing in the ring, beaming at Triple H, who was climbing in through the ropes, a suspicious look on his face.  Edge didn't blame him.  He didn't trust her any farther than he could throw her…and that wasn't a great distance.   But her words caught his attention as she began her long-winded speech.

~<>~

Hunter stared at his wife, wondering what the hell she had up her sleeve this time.  He had a bad feeling that whatever it was, it wasn't gonna be good.

Steph lifted the mic.  "I had an epiphany!  It does seem like our marriage is falling apart.  It does seem like we're fighting all the time.  It seems like we're not communicating.  And I realize that there's only one way to prove our love for each other!  And that is…live on RAW next Monday night…that we renew our wedding vows!  Isn't that a great idea?!"

~<>~
 

A collective groan went up in the viewing room at that announcement. 

Rob Van Damn groaned loudly, "Somebody fetch me a bucket!  I'm gonna blow chunks!"

"That's just nasty." Faarooq scowled.

"Pass me a beer, would ya?"  Bradshaw agreed.

Nan went white.   Al reached over and took hold of her hand.  Edge, seeing the reactions of his friends, began to get seriously worried. 

~<>~ 

Hunter gritted his teeth.  "So, let me get this straight.  Live…in front of the entire world, you want me to stand in front of you and the world and express my love for you and you for me."

Steph nodded emphatically, her smile wide.  "Yes!"

"No!" 

~<>~ 

The volume from the cheers backstage where deafening as everyone was now tuned in to the drama unfolding in the ring. 

"You didn't say your vows the first time, ya stupid slut!  How are you gonna renew what you never said??"  A voice, sounding suspiciously like Bubba Ray Dudley, called from the other side of the room.

Nan laughed, and began to breathe again.  Al patted her on the shoulder with a smile and let go of her hand, while Edge was wondering what he'd missed earlier this evening.

 ~<>~ 

"Hunter, don't…Hunter you can't say no!  You can't say no!  You have to do this!  You have to do it for me, Hunter!  There's no other choice!  There's no other choice…you have to…"  Step began to plead with him, screwing her face up, squinting her eyes, and wavering her voice so it sounded like she was crying.

Hunter exploded.  "Why do I have to do it for you?!  Why!  Because you're the Billion Dollar Princess?! Why!  Because you're Stephanie McMahon?! Why!  Because you always get your way?! Why!  Because everything we do…because everything in our lives is about you?!  Is that why?!  That's why I have to do it?!  Is that why?!"

He turned to leave the ring, breathing heavily, enraged past reason, but glad it was over.  By God it was over, too.  He would see his lawyer first thing in the morning. 

But her next words stopped him cold.

"No…Hunter…it's because…" her voice shook with tears and emotion, and she screamed at him.  "Hunter, it's because I'm pregnant!!" 

~<>~ 

"Holy shit,"  was the only sound heard backstage.  And as it was whispered, no one specifically could be pinpointed to have said it.  But it very well conveyed the reaction of everyone in the viewing room.  One more than any of the others. 

~<>~ 

Pregnant.  Holy Christ. He wanted to be angry.  But he wasn't. Stupefied, maybe.  But not angry.  Only five people knew there was something he actually wanted more than the gold.  More than the title, and he'd wanted it for a long time. Kids.  A family of his own. Only five people knew…Shawn, Chyna, Nash, Steph…and Nan.  Nan.  History was repeating itself. Somewhere in the back of his skull he could hear his mother's voice, screaming at him, that he'd end up just like his father.  And she'd been right.  Now he knew how his father must have felt.  Married to one and wanting another. Staying with a woman he couldn't stand because of a child he adored.  His father had done the right thing.  The honorable thing.  Just like he was going to do.  He was his father's son, after all.  Honorable.  The word Al said she'd used to describe him. Snow was right, too.  She deserved someone better than him.  And he prayed to God that she'd find him some day.  God,  please.  Let her understand.

Hunter turned and embraced his wife and unborn child. 

~<>~ 

There wasn't a sound to be heard in the viewing room.  All eyes trained either on the monitor or on the redhead who looked like someone had just hit her in the stomach.  Some faces wore malevolent smiles, pleased at the anguish written all over her.  But others watched with sympathy, wanting to offer comfort, but not knowing what to say.  Or even if it would be accepted.

As Hunter continued to smile, hug, kiss, and celebrate with his wife in the ring over her announcement, Nan stood up.  Her face too pale to be considered healthy, she excused herself.  With her spine ramrod straight, her gaze fixed on the door to the corridors beyond, she looked neither right nor left and walked with a quiet dignity out of the room, ignoring all of the heads that turned to watch her departure.  If they had been expecting a melodramatic spectacle, they were seriously disappointed.  She closed the door behind her softly, giving the gossips no more ammunition tonight.

Al got up, looked back down at Edge and said, "Call Shawn's cell. Tell him to meet us at Pagan's."

"We're still going?"

Al nodde