This another Andy-centric fic. Andy is hurt, hurt bad, so bad that he may never walk again. How does he deal?

Rating: R, for some depressing stuff and mild language

Disclaimers: Don't own it.

A/N: This is going to be a pretty depressing story. This is just the prologue of a multiple chapter story. The chapters might be far in between so please bear with me. Please read and review, when you don't, I'm not encouraged to write more. *pout* Prologue mostly explains a quote from the movie, the other chapters begin right after the end of TBC, when Andy enters his dad's truck.



Regrets (the temporary title, may be changed in the future)
By: Molly


//You know, sometimes........I wish my knee would give and I wouldn't be able to wrestle anymore. Then he'd forget about me.//


Andy hadn't really meant that. It'd just been something he said in the heat of the moment, when all the rage inside of him boiled up and just exploded as he opened up his heart for the world to see. It wasn't something he did often. He never *really* talked with people. He'd never told anyone about all his pent up frustrations about wrestling, about his father, about how the goddamn world had been shoved on top of his shoulders when he wasn't looking. He didn't talk about that. He tried hard to not think about it.

Sometimes though, when he let his guard down, it just spilled out. All the hate, all the anger, all the fear. Fear. It wasn't something he thought about a lot but fear was one of the things that was holding him back. He was afraid of himself, and afraid of his father. Andy was afraid of Andy, of who he truly was, of who he wanted to be so he went along with the idea that friends and family had planted into his mind of who he *should* be. Andy was afraid of his father. Afraid that his dad wouldn't care about him anymore if he didn't wrestle. Oh, sure, he said he'd like it if the guy just left him alone but there was the part of him, the bigger part of him, that liked it when his dad talked to him.

Andy loved his dad, though sometimes he thought he didn't. Sometimes he thought he was the scum of the earth and anything was better than being his son. Then there were the other times which seemed so few to him. Times like when his muscles got sore, the first person there with an ice pack was dear old Dad, and his concerns seemed to be more about if he was in any pain than if he'd be able to wrestle. When he'd gotten the German measles that one summer, his dad was the one who helped him get to sleep at night, telling him stories about when he was in high school, and caring to Andy's every wish.

The problem was, he didn't have the German measles, and his leg was just fine. So all his dad would care about was wrestling. Those were the times when Andy wished that he'd bust his knee and he couldn't wrestle anymore. Then his dad could get off his case and he could fade away into until he was invisible to his father and to the jocks.

Andy knew he'd told them all with such passion that he'd love it if his knee would give, and at the time he'd believed it to. Believed that everything would be perfect if he could never wrestle again.

Just thinking about it, moments after he said it, gave him a migraine. These terrible headaches had been coming frequently, almost blinding him with pain. It was stress the doctors said.....Would it affect his wrestling? Was all Mr. Clark had asked the doctor. Shit. All the pondering over that one sentence that he'd uttered that had stunned them all into silence, except Bender, always there with a wise crack. God, he wished he could be Bender. Just tell everything that was bugging him to just fuck off because he was going to smoke some dope. That would be great. Perfect. And he could just see the look on his father's face too, and hear the lectures rolling off his tongue, about respecting your father, and not taking drugs because it'll screw up any chance you have at a scholarship. B.S. Andy was beyond caring by now anyway.

Those thoughts passed though, and came back to what he'd told the others. Would he like it if he could never wrestle again? What would it be like? Would his old friends, the other guys in the letterman jackets, would they shun him from their crowd because he couldn't play anymore? Sure, maybe they'd be sympathetic for a little while.....

//Hey man, that sucks.//

//Tough break Clark, but ya know man, we're always on your side.//


But soon, other wrestlers would come and he'd be forgotten, just some guy limping through the halls.

//Oh, yeah, Andy? He used to be this awesome wrestler, but then he got injured. He's a little weird now, acts kinda creepy. Walks funny too. I dunno. He used to be cool.//

Andy sat in silence, wondering....."If it really happened, if my knee really got busted up, would I regret it?"

Somehow he didn't think he wanted to know the answer.


TBC