Quick note: I am not using Glen Jacob's real family. In this fic his wife is Jenna Jacobs who is a character I created.
Chapter 1
When you were a kid did you ever have a favorite stuffed animal? You know, the one that was all thread-bare, it leaked stuffing from under the armpit, it was missing one of its button eyes, and it smelled bad. It didn't matter did it? No it was yours and you couldn't let it go until it fell to bits. So, okay, maybe you weren't the teddy bear type. But I'm sure you had the 'blankey'. I bet it was a little patched up tatter of a thing that was brown from dragging it around on the ground. Of course, you wouldn't let your mom wash it, you couldn't be parted with it for even five minutes or you would go into fits. No, no, that's not the right comparison at all. It's really hard to put into words. When you have something like that it's for comfort and you have it constantly because you want to have it, not because it wants to have you. God, that thought just makes me want to shudder. I guess sooner or later I'll have to admit it to myself in not so kind words. He isn't a child's toy or a baby's snuggle-buddy.
It just seems so stupid to me. Maybe I'm imagining it, maybe I'm just working too much, that's probably it. I'll have to nag at Vince for a break. Maybe my half-brother The Undertaker can take me out and lock me in a coffin…I mean Kane. Maybe he can lock Kane up, because I am not Kane and Kane is not me, I'm Glen Jacobs. Okay, don't freak out, it was just a meaningless little slip of the tongue. So what, I referred to Kane as myself or I referred to myself as Kane it's no big deal. It's really no big deal at all.
Why does this make me feel unnerved? I'm never this way. I am never this way at all. Just calm down, please. I get up out of bed where I've been laying awake staring at the ceiling. Jenna stirs a bit and mumbles my name but I ignore her and move out of the room and make my way to the kitchen. I look down at my hands as I lumber down the hallway and am surprised to see them tremble slightly, just at the finger tips, but still, it's a tremble and it has no need to be there.
I think back over the dream I was having before I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. As I enter the kitchen I look at the range and the electronic red numbers let me know it is now nearing five in the morning. I pull out a chair and dump my large frame into it sighing frustrated at this whole thing. I prop my arm on the table and rest my head in one hand. My brow is still damp with sweat. It's Kane, it's just Kane. Sometimes when I try to pull the plug on him it just doesn't work. It's like in one of those freaky movies where the horrified woman unplugs the phone, because some scratchy, growling, voice keeps calling her from 'beyond the grave', but even when she holds the disconnected chord triumphantly between her fingers the object of her terror still rings. It is impossible, but it happens. Well, of course it can happen it's a movie so…maybe that's not a good analogy. By the way, speaking of bad analogies, I'm not comparing myself to said helpless girl on aforementioned thriller. I am neither a girl nor helpless.
Geeze, I'm over analyzing stuff again. I've been Kane, I have had the gimmick of Kane might I correct myself, for so many years that he's just a part of me now and occasionally he shows up outside of the ring. Now hey, I'm not saying I randomly fly in to psychotic fits of lunacy, I don't. I'm laid back, level-headed, a normal average guy who happens to have an awesome job as a wrestler known as "The Big Red Monster". What I mean is I've been having dreams lately. They're more than dreams they're like…like…memories. That's the stupidest thought that has crossed my mind yet. I can't remember something that never happened to me. Like I said, I've done the Kane thing so much that's all. Despite repeating this to myself it doesn't help too much. I groan into the empty room as I can taste ash and feel the burn of smoke bite the inside of my throat. I try to swallow it down and make it go away but instead my stomach starts to protest. It turns itself all sour and sickening like the stupid organ is contemplating whether or not it should purge itself. Not only does the smoke swirl around in my throat but it rises and fills my nostrils. It stings so bad that my eyes water and leak tears all down my face as though my eyeballs are some built in biological sprinkler system. The hand that I was resting my head in curls up into a fist as I feel the need to cough into it. My lungs are hot and itchy with these nonexistent fumes. It's really getting to me, God, get it together Glen! I try to suck in air and I'm surprised at how it hurts so bad and rattles around in my chest like I'm some kind of asthmatic or something. I start to gasp and I squeeze my eyes shut. Images of blistering, seething, flames burn themselves into the back of my eyelids. They are like red blazing demons licking, biting, taunting, sneering, taking, not taking, but stealing. Suddenly I am to my feet and I let out a booming, frustrated growl. As though I can not control my fist it slams hard into the table dumping over some flowers and the two shakers of pepper and salt. Rage, I feel such rage barreling around inside of me that I can barely stand it. It's going to burst out at any moment and anything that is in my way is going to be crushed and crumbled, beaten and bloodied, and otherwise pummeled into a screaming, crying, splotch of whimpering grease on the floor. Another hoarse yowl escapes my snarling mouth and pierces the quiet of early morning. Bitterness, it is almost overwhelming. I hate that man, I hate my brother.
"Glen, Glen?"
I blink confused at this voice that is calling 'Glen'. My hand goes to my head because it's throbbing from painful imageries which refuse to die no matter how many times I try to smother them or bury them away. Those feelings start to recede slowly like fog rolling out over a lake, like fingers of mist clearing and letting you see the placid glass water lurking underneath. I groan again, but it's not full of rage or hate, just exhaustion.
"Glen, baby?"
"Jenna." I feel relief at seeing my wife in front of me. I fold her into my arms and lick my lips as the nauseating taste and smell of smoke begins to subside. To help it along a little I bury my nose into her hair and inhale the sweet smell of her shampoo.
"What are you doing up babe, can't sleep? Are you having dreams?"
"I'm okay." I manage to say, it comes out a bit muffled since my face is stuffed into her strawberry blond locks.
"Come back to bed then." She pushes against my chest letting me know she wants me to release her. I don't want to but I do anyway. She pulls away gently and looks up into my face. Her hand reaches upwards and cups my cheek which is rough with overnight stubble. She rubs it gently with her thumb. Her touch is nice and soothing.
"You're getting dark circles." She informs me with a little smile that morphs into a yawn.
"Go ahead back to bed Jen, I'm coming."
She raises herself up on her toes but I still have to bend down a bit. She's puckering her lips up wanting to give me a goodnight peck. We share a short, sweet, kiss and then she heads back to the bedroom to burrow up in the covers and have better dreams than I've been having. Before following her I go to the cabinet and pull down a glass. I fill it half full with water and take a drink to get rid of the last lingering bits of smoke that taint my tongue. As I leave the empty glass in the sink and turn to join my wife in our bed, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window. My heart thuds up suddenly as though someone has given me an electrical shock. I stop and peer at the glassy image more closely. It was just my imagination. For a moment I could have sworn that I saw a glimmer of pale blue in one eye. My real eye color is a deep chocolate brown and that's what I'm looking at right now. Yes, I'm just looking at two brown eyes accented by darkening circles beneath them. Jenna's right, I need to get more sleep. Maybe she should suggest that to Kane.
Please let me know what you think, this one may be a slower update than my 'Hardy' fics. I'm liking it so far and it's a different turn from doing my other fics. It's a bit short but I think it's a nice start. Hope you enjoy. :D