Notes: Story not set in present. Just before Taker came back as the American Bad Ass.
Disclaimer: This is fiction... as in non-real... As in I don't own any of these people.. So don't sue.. I have nothing!
Part One
A bed, Chris thought as he got off the elevator. All I need is a shower and a bed. It had been a long week on the road for him and all he was looking forward to that night was a good night's sleep. Using his keycard to open the door, Jericho dragged himself and his suitcase into the room. Maybe if he had been a little more alert, he would have noticed the other suitcase in the corner. But instead, he just dropped his bag and headed for the bathroom. Looking forward to a long, hot shower, Chris was more than shocked by what he saw when he opened the door.
Kane, surrounded by steam, dripping with water from head to toe, and, save the towel he held over his crotch, completely naked. Chris wasn't sure where he should look. His gaze traveled up Kane's muscular thighs, stopping momentarily to try to see what was under that towel through the mist, over his flat stomach, broad chest, and strong shoulders. Chris's jaw dropped open when he saw his face. Faint pink lines across pale skin were the only evidence that of that horrible fire that Chris could see. From behind a mane of long brown hair stared two piercing blue eyes. Realizing he was ogling, Chris mumbled a feeble apology and turned to leave, barely noticing the faint gleam of silver in Kane's hand. He grabbed his bag that he'd left at the door and headed for the elevator, prepared to give the receptionist a verbal bashing that would make Steve Austin blush.
Later that night, after getting another room and taking his own shower, Chris lay in bed unable to sleep. He kept replaying the events in his head and kept coming to the same conclusion. Kane, the big red machine, the monster, actually... wasn't! Sure, there were some scars, but nothing like the grotesque things that Chris had imagined. To be truthful, Chris thought, he was pretty good looking. Nice eyes, a body that went on for days, long hair that Chris could almost imagine running his fingers through...
"Where the hell did that come from?" he asked aloud. Realizing that no one was going to answer him, he decided to close his eyes and try to get some rest. But his mind kept wandering back to the bathroom scene. "Dammit!" he yelled, tossing the covers back and getting out of bed. He knew that he wasn't going to get any sleep anytime soon. Getting dressed, he decided to go on a walk to clear his head.
An hour later, Chris came back to the hotel, more confused than when he had left. His whole view of Kane had changed in a matter of hours and that was doing something crazy to him... making him think thoughts that he had never imagined would cross his mind. "Of all the guys in Federation to have a crush on, I pick that one," he said as he got on the elevator. "I'll probably get killed cause I saw his face in the first place... I never did apologize properly..." Chris got off the elevator. "But that's crazy," he continued. "Only a raving lunatic would go back there after he had gotten out safely." Stopping at a door that clearly wasn't his, Chris raised his hand to knock. "So I'm a raving lunatic," he thought.
He knocked twice and go no answer. He could have gone out, Chris rationalized. But where would he have had to go? He was about to leave when he noticed that the door was ajar. "Might as well get this over with," he thought. Opening the door, he noticed an odd odor in the air. Keeping his mind on the task at hand, he walked into the bedroom area. He stopped in the doorway, seeing Kane lying on the bed. The moonlight shone through the curtain-less window onto his body. Taking note of the way his hair lay spread out on the pillow, Chris thought he looked like a fallen angel. He slept so soundly that Chris was rethinking whether he should wake him. The urge to run while he still had the use of his legs was beginning to take hold of him. But something in his mind told him to stay.
"Did you know you left your door open?" Chris said. "That's very dangerous." There was no movement from the bed. He must be a heavy sleeper, Chris thought. Feeling bolder, he walked towards to the bed. "Not that anyone would want to run into you," he continued. Still nothing... this was definitely strange. Standing over him, Chris admired how Kane's face looked in the moonlight. It was even better than when he saw him surrounded by mist. Smiling, Chris bent down, placing his hand on the edge of the bed. His smile disappeared as he noticed the bedspread fell wet and sticky. Raising his hand to his face, the metallic smell hit him. Trembling, he reached for the nearby lamp and switched it on. The sight before him brought him to his knees. Blood everywhere. Wrists slashed to the bone. Kane lying limp, unmoving.
"This isn't right," he whispered, tears forming in his eyes. "This.. can't... be..." He had been alive a few hours ago. He was kicking ass and taking names in the ring. How could this have happened? Placing one hand on the bed to steady himself and the other on Kane's chest, Chris slowly rose. He almost collapsed again when he felt it. A heartbeat. Faint, but still there. Filled with a new strength, he grabbed the phone and, after getting an outside line, called for an ambulance. He gave them the hotel address and room number. "Don't you dare die on me," he said after placing the phone back on its cradle. "Do you hear me?" he yelled. "Or when I die, I will find you and beat the crap outta you!" He smiled weakly. Even in crisis, he could still make jokes. The tears began to fall and he wiped them away, covering his face with blood.
The ambulance arrived within minutes and carted Kane away on a stretcher. Without being asked, Chris jumped in the back with him. Looking like a mad man, his hair, face, and clothes stained with blood, no one objected. He rode to the hospital in silence, his eyes never leaving the face of his fallen angel. When they arrived, Kane was whisked into the emergency room with Chris only being able to wait outside. He paced up and down the hall. He stood. He sat. He couldn't keep still. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of minutes, a doctor approached him. Tall, with black hair slightly grayed, a white coat and clipboard, she introduced herself as Dr. Stone. Her eyes were a soft gray and he felt like he could trust her with anything he told her.
"You're the one that found him?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied. He couldn't stand the waiting any longer. "Will he be... Is he..." Tears threaten to fall again.
Dr. Stone placed a soft hand on his shoulder. "We're doing all we can. You're lucky you came by when you did. Any later and he might have..." Her voice trailed off as she saw the look on his face. She made a note to avoid mentioning the possibility if she could. "He's lost a lot of blood," she continued. "He's going to need a transfusion. And it looks like you're a match for his type... perhaps in more ways than one."
Chris didn't seem to hear the doctor's last comment. All he knew was that he could help. "Take as much as you need," he said. "Whatever it takes to make things better."