A/N - No, I shouldn't post a new story but honestly, it's like a serious illness or something lol. I wrote this ages ago and decided what the hell, I may as well post it. I hope you like it and that it will keep you all distracted from the fact that I haven't updated a story in forever...whoops... Enjoy lol...
"Memory is all we are. Moments and feelings, captured in amber, strung on filaments of reason. Take a man's memories and you take all of him."
― Mark Lawrence, King of Thorns
The arena was deafening, so loud he could barely hear himself think.
"To the outside," Bryan called the spot, preparing them for a transition into the climax of the match. Triple H would get knocked outside, Bryan would do his dive, they would battle back to the ring and enter the finishing stretch.
Paul hovered by the ropes, his body aching in every possible way imaginable. One knee was on the ground while he planted his other foot, holding steady so he could stand up and get knocked out of the ring. But before he had a chance to realise what was happening, Bryan's boot connected squarely with his jaw, sending him harshly through the second rope. He was unprepared for the contact and even more unprepared for the sick crack of his skull on the exposed concrete floor. Suddenly everything began to fade away and the last measure of control over his conscious slipped to darkness.
Behind the monitors in the infamous Gorilla position, Stephanie watched the scene unfold in sheer horror. The sickening thud of her husband's head smacking off the ground seemed to reverberate around the vast arena. When he made no move to get up or even move at all, she knew something was wrong. She knew it before he had even hit the floor. After spending countless hours standing at ringside watching him and even more hours watching from behind a screen, she knew every single little thing about him when he was in that ring. She knew when he was hurt, she knew when he was confused or when something went wrong and he had to improvise to try and fix it. She knew when he wasn't pleased with a particular move and could always tell how he felt about a match from his mannerisms and body language. She was his wife and she made it her duty to watch and study all of his matches so that when he walked back through that curtain she could tell him exactly what he needed to hear. It was a skill developed through endless worry and sheer admiration for his craft. Paul was her husband and they belonged together but if there was one other place on this earth that he belonged it was in a WWE ring and under those bright lights.
All of these things were the reason why her heart suddenly jumped into her throat. And Paul still wasn't moving.
"Hunter! Hunter!"
Faint calls. He could hear faint calling.
"YES! YES! YES! YES!"
The fans. The sound was muted but he could just about make out what they were shouting. A strange warmth spread across his right cheek.
"Paul…"
Mike Chioda stared down at the glazed eyes and distant expression on the face of his boss and winced. He'd seen Hunter fight through a catalogue of injuries but he'd never seem him like this before. He legitimately looked completely out of it. In his ear he could hear Vince asking if his son-in-law was okay. With regret Chioda raised his arms to make the dreaded 'X' symbol, indicating to everybody in the back that Paul was most certainly not okay. As soon as the sign was made he knew the cameras would be off them. In an instant Doc Sampson was at his side and Chioda took the chance to signal to Bryan that they needed a bit of time.
"Hunter can you hear me? It's Doc Sampson. If you can hear me I need you to say something….move….do anything to let me know. Can you do that?"
Paul could sense that somebody was talking to him but he couldn't make out a damn thing being said. The lights were blinding, the fans were deafening yet oddly silent. They were too loud yet he could barely hear them. A quick rush of excruciating pain hammered at the back of his head. It was so severe that he was certain he had passed out and came to a few seconds later.
Doc Sampson's face was tight. Hunter wasn't responding to his voice, he wasn't responding to the light shining in his eyes. He was simply staring at everything and nothing all at once, a faraway look on his face that fluctuated between heavy blinks and a pained expression. In his opinion this match needed to stop right now but somehow he had a feeling that that wasn't an option. The rematch between Triple H and Daniel Bryan had been building for months. Everybody involved was invested in this but that wasn't important. The health of an injured talent was his primary concern and right now, Paul Levesque was in no condition to compete. At the very least he had sustained a serious concussion. There was no way he could let him go back in there and finish the match.
In the back of his mind and somewhere between the onslaught of throbbing pain that now subsided there, Paul managed to figure out that he was in the middle of a match. At that point autopilot kicked in and he feebly brushed away the faceless people huddled around him. He stared ahead but couldn't see. Everything was a blur. With every ounce of energy in his body he managed to sit up, fighting down the sudden rush of nausea that threatened to make him puke his guts out at the movement. A blotchy image appeared and he decided that it must be the ring. Paul grabbed at the apron wildly as he lost his balance and fell against it, once again brushing off the hands that tried to help. He had to finish the match. Somebody was waiting for him in there to finish the match. He couldn't even remember who it was.
"What's the finish?" Doc Sampson asked Chioda warily.
"Knee to the face."
"This is a mistake."
Chioda shrugged his shoulders. "Unless you jump in there and stop him there's nothing we can do." By this stage the fans had grown restless while Bryan kept them distracted with "YES" chants. But they were anxious for their hero to best The Authority once again and the sight of Triple H staggering back into the ring brought about a huge cheer. Chioda knew he just had to get them through this as safely as he could. The order came through his earpiece to end the match ASAP. He walked to Bryan, discreetly telling him to finish it up and moved out of the way to let them go at it again.
"YES! YES! YES! YES!"
Bryan threw his arms into the air with every cry from the fans. He waited with baited breath for Hunter to get into position for his finishing move. The other man's movements were slow and Bryan knew something was wrong. Even from across the ring he could tell that Hunter had no clue what the hell was going on. His eyes were rolling all over the place and legs were like jello.
It was a weird feeling, Paul thought to himself for the split second before he hit the mat and was counted out; to have all your senses on edge yet still not know what was happening around you. The atmosphere was at fever pitch, the excitement almost tangible. He could hear the loud chanting and could just about make out the dark red kickpads across the ring. Suddenly they began to move before taking off. Paul didn't know what hit him. In a flash the knee connected with his face and he fell down hard, the back of his head once again smacking against the ring. He faintly felt his leg rising in the air, just dangling for the briefest of moments before it fell down. Simultaneously an eruption of noise shook his chest. He felt it rather than heard it. His eyes blinked once….twice….three times, before everything blended together in one big hazy mess. And that was it. His eyes fell closed as a searing pain ripped through head.
"Oh my God."
Stephanie's hushed words matched the atmosphere in Gorilla. Everybody knew something was wrong. It wasn't hard to decipher, not with Paul in the state that he was. The bile in her stomach rose as the horrible smacking noise of her husband's head meeting the concrete floor permeated her brain once more. Despite the deafening screams and scenes of joy from the fans, it was the only thing she could hear; his far off, glazed over eyes the only thing she could see. Her eyes tore from the first camera feed to settle on the camera not being used for the live shot. It was focused on the now frantic scene of her husband being tended to by WWE's medical staff. It would probably be best to wait until they brought him back here but she simply couldn't wait.
"Stephan….." Vince stopped in his tracks at the look on his daughter's face as she spun to face him. She was going out there no matter what he said. "…just go." She was gone in a flash and joined the various medical staff as they made their way to the ring in a frantic clump.
Faint boos rang out around the arena at the appearance of Stephanie McMahon running down the ramp but most fans were still too immersed in Bryan's triumphant victory to notice. It wasn't until the champion slowly made his way to the back that the reality of the situation started to seep throughout the arena. Triple H still hadn't moved, he was surrounded by medics and his wife looked absolutely heartbroken.
Stephanie pushed her way through the throng of people huddled over her husband, her eyes desperately running over him as she softly cupped his cheek. "Paul….baby? Baby it's me, can you hear me?" She looked to the doctors in concern. "What's going on? What's wrong with him?" His cheeks felt warm under her hands but that wasn't unusual, not after a grueling match.
"We need to get him looked at, Steph. Now," Dr Amann urged gravely. He concurred with Doc Sampson. Hunter needed to get to a hospital and immediately. From their brief examination he'd be surprised if the prognosis came out as a concussion because he had the unfortunate feeling that this was going to be worse. A lot worse. The man was knocked out cold and wasn't responding to any triggers. The sooner he got to the hospital the better.
"Then what are you waiting for? Move him!" Stephanie barked in frustration. She didn't care if it was uncalled for. Her husband was lying unconscious before her; that was uncalled for. Good god, her stomach with churning with anxiety. Dr Amaan's tone had shaken her right through to her bones. This was serious. Her watery blue eyes looked back down as the medics carefully braced Paul's neck and rolled him on to a stretcher. Cautiously, the stretcher was manoeuvred outside the ring to a gurney and Stephanie was at his side in an instant, reaching down to grab his hand. If he was awake he'd probably joke that she was cutting off his circulation but the cold hard fact was that he wasn't. He wasn't awake to make silly jokes or make her laugh and Stephanie chocked back a sob at the thought. She studied his face as they wheeled him up the ramp, barely cognizant enough to recognise that a standing ovation had broken out all around her. If she wasn't so distressed she would have acknowledged the show of respect from the fans but she wasn't thinking straight. The only thing she was thinking about was her husband and getting him to a hospital as soon as possible.
