The crowd was roaring with excitement as, for another year in a row, they saw the mighty McMahon family fall before them in defeat. Hunter could hear, over the sound of his own pumping adrenaline and accelerated heartbeat, fucking Rousey and Kurt making loud exclaims of joy and his stomach sank. Mostly though, he was concerned with, after some loud screams of immense pain, how silent his wife had gone.

It was definitely disorienting, a loss was, but in that moment, he just wanted to be with her. She'd rolled out of the ring though and slid down the side of it, so that her back was pressed against the apron. As he got to her, the medic staff had already begun checking her out and her eyes were closed and she'd been screaming so loudly before, as that stupid wannabe, half-assed wrestler fucking tried to pull her damn arm from her body, but she was so quiet now. Silent.

To say he was concerned was an understatement.

"Steph," he whispered as he sank down onto his knees beside her, the rest of them be damned. It was so deafening, 'mania always was, but in that moment, as his wife sat before him broken and beaten, none of it mattered. Honestly, not a single person in that crowd mattered. They were all just nameless, moronic, senseless yelling that felt numb and distant. His entire focus fell to his wife and everything else went mute. "Stephanie..."

She blinked at him and she looked like there were tears welled in her eyes, but he had no idea if it was from the pain of loss or the pain of physicality. He figured both. At the sight of him though, the tears really began to fall and she wasn't even responding anymore, to the medic who was questioning her about her arm. Only held the wounded appendage close to her chest and let the tears flow openly.

"I'm sorry," she told him through a choked sob. "Hunter. I'm so sorry."

Because she wasn't crying because she was hurting or because their dream had been crushed, but rather, it was the idea that she'd, once more, disappointed him. Caused him to lose. On the grandest stage of all. She was a failure, always had been, but only recently had she started to drag him down with her again.

What was the year?

2018?

Or 2002?

He felt something in his gut as somehow he made perfect sense of her words. There was chaos going on all about them, but all he heard were her words and he knew exactly what she meant by them. They were that in sync. 1999, 2002, 2018, it didn't matter. He'd been keyed into her from the start and he'd never fallen out of it.

"Steph. Hey, Steph, don't. No." He even shook his head. "You didn't do anything. You-"

"I lost, Hunter. I made you-"

"You didn't make me anything."

"I-"

"Look at me." When she tried to turn her head, he only reached out and brushed his hand rather harshly, really, down her cheek. It was just the way he was. Staring deeply into her eyes, he said, "Look at me. Stephanie. You didn't do anything. I'm the one that should have stopped that. Her from hurting you. Now look. You… You did so well, Stephanie."

"I lost."

"We lost," he corrected as the medics were trying to shove him out of the way once more. They had to get her backstage to properly tend to her. Not to mention get the show back on the road. Still, he only shoved them back. He was fucking Triple H. Nobody rushed him from the ring. No one. "Steph, listen, I… I'm so proud of you."

"Hunter-"

"No matter what you hear today or tomorrow from anyone else, just remember that, alright?" Finally, he stood and took a step back to allow her to be properly tended to. "I'm more proud of you than you could ever imagine."

And he was. He meant that. Completely. Stephanie wasn't some sort of world renown fighter. Anything she'd ever gotten had been gifted to her either by her father, mother, brother, or more often than not, him. Hunter. She was never going to be someone people feared physically. Only through the implications of her power. And he was that power, that day, in the ring. He'd let her down. Him.

But her...Stephanie…

She'd done more than he could ever hope for her to do. She'd been stronger than he'd have ever imagined her to be. She wasn't some kind of warrior or great brute. She was, at best, someone who tagged along with her superstar husband to the gym because she was bothered by the idea of him thinking someone looked better than her. She worked out to impress him, she stepped into that ring to impress him, hell, the woman still probably just bullied the roster in a twisted way of getting his approval.

And he gave it.

All of it.

He might not always agree with it, but damn if Stephanie didn't make him so proud. Every single day.

Even as she laid up later that night in bed, with her arm in a sling, nursing her injury in the same way that she'd done for the past two 'manias.

Still, as he gently kissed her eyes that night, when he fell into bed beside her with a soft sigh, on his lips were a few short words.

"You held your own, Stephie, in the ring with a fucking legend in the UFC, at the biggest wrestling event in the world." When she refused to look at him, her cheek got a kiss then before he rested on his back beside her in the hotel bed. "No one else can say that. But you. You can say that. I've always thought you were the best wife a man could get, but to see you out there, my chest got all swelled and I-"

"Dad," she cut him off, "says I have to go make peace with her. Tomorrow."

"Oh, baby, you do."

"I hate her."

"So do I."

"But," Steph conceded, "I hate everyone who's not you or one of my children."

"Lucky me."

Turning her head to the side, she eyed him for a few moments before saying, "I wanted to win, Hunter. For you. For us."

"It didn't matter, Steph." Smiling at her in a way only reserved for the woman, he said, "Win or lose, you were my wife, who trained night and day for this, and did it. Ddin't chicken out. You went out there and did it. I couldn't ask for anymore. You're always at my side, during battle. I wouldn't have it any other way. Win or lose, I want you there every time."

"It'd be nice to get a win though," she grumbled softly as her eyes shut. "Just once."

"That's the great thing about 'mania, baby." He let out a long sigh. "There's always next year."

Just something quick and short, since I've been away for a bit. Anyone who's seen the clip of Paul comforting Steph after the match at 'mania, knows it was no doubt a really personal moment between the two of them, but canonically, it probably was between Hunter and Steph too. At least in my mind.