"I thought you said you didn't want to team up with anyone but Hunter?"
Shawn didn't look up, though he had to chuckle as he recognised the voice. The tape he'd been unwrapping from his wrists was hastily thrown to the side, dangling on the edge of a trashcan before falling to the floor. He'd clean that up later; right now he was just glad that -- for once -- blood had not tainted the sticky tape.
"Hello, Chris," he murmured, raising his head to look at the figure in the doorway.
Even though the same thing had happened not long ago, he was still surprised to see Chris Jericho leaning against the doorpost. It was familiar, having seen him walk around these parts for years, yet he had changed. Physically he was different, his body thinner though still filled with strength, and his hair no longer rolling down his back, instead much shorter and barely falling in his eyes. The biggest change was internal, though. Instead of constantly wondering what to do next, how to impress others by some marvellous stunt, or trying to remember what he could and couldn't say, he looked calm, at peace, sure of himself. He wasn't obligated to do anything anymore, at least not where wrestling was concerned. He'd probably be wise enough and stay clear of whatever would make Vince think that offering him a job again would be stupid, but there was more of a carefree air about him.
Shawn wondered what to answer, what to say that didn't sound too petty. He realised he'd been quiet for a lot longer than expected, wondering about how Chris had changed, but the younger man hadn't said a thing, merely remained leaning against the wooden frame, watching. Thinking about Chris' comment, he was struck by the knowledge that Chris was bringing up something that had been said on Raw a while ago. He'd been watching. The thought made Shawn smile, though he wasn't sure why. Probably the irony of someone so happy to be gone still watching the thing he'd left.
"I did say that, and I meant it. Unfortunately, what I want isn't always what Vince wants."
It could have come out bitter, but it didn't. He knew how this business worked, and even though he'd much rather not team up with someone besides Hunter, that wasn't how things were done. Not even when the Showstopper was concerned. The business wouldn't change to benefit him, even though there had been so many times when he'd sworn it had. It would to a degree, but only if whatever happened benefited the business as well, probably because of the loyalty created. It would only go so far.
"Vince needs you. Adam is good, but he cannot carry both Orton and Cena to a point where they can care about more than just their appearance. John's been rattled enough, he doesn't need the pressure."
He was right, of course, and it was exactly why Shawn had understood. If only his body could stop screaming at him about it. Jumping brands constantly, one night on Smackdown, the next on Raw, did nothing but tire him, cause him to walk around in a daze. The daze was good, though, because if he really paid attention he'd notice the strain in his own voice, the way his muscles twitched annoyingly when he walked up stairs, hell, he'd notice all the things he should have been aware of but didn't want to. Mark had expressed his concern, that one evening after Smackdown, but Shawn had waved it away, instead mentioning the improvement Dave Batista had gone through lately. Mark had looked at him for a bit longer, but had then allowed Shawn to change the subject. Some people knew him too well.
"I know." He tiredly wiped at his eyes, glad there was no mirror in sight because he knew he'd find his eyes slightly red, with lines surrounding them that weren't there before. It was an annoying reminder of how horrible he felt, the temporary high of so many people chanting his name wearing off way too soon. He didn't just age, he broke down. People often compared life to the fast-lane, always buzzing with traffic and the fastest way to get where you wanted to go. Well, if life was the fast-lane, then he was that old, dusty pick-up truck, only barely keeping up with the shiny new toys, but bound to break down sooner or later. He knew it; he felt it.
Pain shot up his spine as he reached for his bag, but the sensation was ignored. He'd been distracted by Chris, so it had taken longer for that particular assault to sink in, but he knew it would have shown up eventually. It always did, though years of living with it had taken the edge off. It was one of those things that he had to live with, and he'd learned how.
"Your back, I presume?"
Chris was closer now, bending down to grab a hold of the bag, dropping it next to Shawn on the bench. For a second Shawn resented him, felt jealous at the ease with which his current companion did things like picking up a bag, but then he shook his head at himself. It wasn't fair to Chris, to anyone, to think like that. He'd gotten more in return than most had, and he knew that if he could do it all over, he wouldn't change a thing. Hunter would say it was because he was an attention whore - but then Hunter was vulgar - whereas Shawn preferred calling it living his passion. The latter sounded better in a biography anyway.
"Of course."
He realised that he'd have to hurry up. It had become a habit of most of the younger stars to wait till he'd finished showering, out of respect for him and talking to Chris had slowed him down. Usually he'd be out of the building by the time his back started aching, not sitting on an uncomfortable bench in some generic locker room.
Hoisting himself to his feet, lacking any kind of grace, he took the towel Chris offered to him and walked over to the shower, clothes thrown on the floor as he moved. Chris had seen him naked before – and in a worse state – he wasn't going to get self-conscious now.
"How is Hunter doing?" Chris asked, barely audible over the noise of the shower. He had sat down, now occupying the spot Shawn had been sitting at earlier. A hand brushed through short hair, and Shawn could not help but notice how different he looked, even through the water tumbling down, like leaving the wrestling world behind had changed him completely. And not for the worse, either, though if Shawn was being honest he'd admit that he preferred the longer hair.
"Like you care," he said, grinning at the chuckle that elicited.
There was something strange about this situation. Not that Shawn was naked, showering, and talking to Chris at the same time, though that wasn't normal in itself, nor the fact that Chris was asking about Hunter – they'd never been great friends – but something Shawn couldn't pinpoint. He wished he could, it seemed important.
"I don't, but you do. How is his recovery? Will he be returning soon?"
Shawn could well remember the way Chris and Hunter treated each other. It wasn't open hostility, not even hidden annoyance, but still they never really got along. They'd be perfectly fine making small-talk, but whenever something serious happened to be brought up they'd clamp shut, not willing to share personal things with the other. (that's highlighted just because it's a perfect example of what I was talking to you about the other day in terms of sentence structure. There are maybe more concise ways to put things, but I'm reluctant to suggest it because it would be changing your style, and that is something I would NOT suggest doing!)It was like they didn't want to get to know each other, and it had been another reason why Shawn and Chris never really got the chance to talk. Shawn would feel guilty, knowing Hunter would roll his eyes and make snide comments, and Chris didn't seem like he wanted to either.
"He's doing fine, of course. He's never been able to do anything just halfway decent. He has to do it faster and better than anyone else. With some luck he'll be back in time for Summerslam."
He grabbed his shampoo, massaging it in and then quickly rinsing it out. He wanted to see Chris' reaction and he couldn't do that with his eyes closed. He was sure there'd be amusement and some sort of annoyance. That was usually the reaction Chris had to Hunter, or at least to people talking about him. This time all Chris did was smile, though, and again Shawn was certain he was missing something.
The hot shower had done wonders for his back, momentarily at least, and he forgot to be careful as he walked out of the shower, wrapping the towel around his waist and almost falling flat on his back in the process. Quickly he regained his balance, looking up to see the alarm in Chris' eyes.
"Careful," the other man muttered, slowly sitting down again. Shawn hadn't even noticed he'd moved. What he i did /i notice was the burning sensation in his cheek. How very stupid of him to forget where he was. How very embarrassing, too, no wonder he was blushing. He'd never been able to live down humiliation well, but at least this one wasn't that bad.
Shawn smiled sheepishly. "Uhm, so, do your regular visits mean you're returning to us soon?"
"Nah, I've been at TNA too. Keeps everyone guessing," (LMAO!!!) Chris said, grinning slightly.
"TNA?"
He was curious to see if Chris would catch the lie of acting clueless. He didn't have to ask about TNA, everyone knew. The difference between him and Chris was, however, that he was still WWE, while Chris was in between. He could go either way, but right now he was neither.
"Oh, yeah, TNA doesn't exist, sorry about that."
Shawn chuckled. He knew Chris was joking, figured that he'd thrown in the TNA comment just to make fun of where they were. The WWE was like a lion munching on its kill, allowing the vultures to come in and pluck a bit of meat from the carcass. The lion would allow it, more concerned with its own piece than what was left, but would occasionally – seemingly out of nowhere – strike out at the bird, showing its dominance. The WWE was the lion, TNA the vulture, and the rotting carcass the men and women forever changed due to the industry. It was a sombre thought, very bleak, but Shawn knew that even among the animals of Africa, some survived, escaped the perils, and died of old age. He planned to be like that.
"You'd fit in at TNA, you know. They'd make you a star," Shawn commented, knowing it was true. Chris would probably be a bigger star there than at the WWE. Still, Chris seemed to see the WWE as his home, which could change how the man saw things.
Chris had never been given the chances he'd deserved, Shawn knew. Politics, like it did with all things in life, never ceased to ruin careers. The man had taken it all in stride, though, and had done what he could with the things he'd been given. Crappy storylines or not, the fans had always backed him. It was strange that he'd never become more of a star, like Rock or Austin, but perhaps he'd just lacked the will to screw others over. It was a necessary skill required, Shawn knew, if you wanted to make it big. Oh yes, he definitely knew, he'd accomplished everything he had that way. He respected Chris for it, though he'd always wondered what could have become of the charismatic and athletic man had things been different.
"I know. I'm not sure that's what I want, though. I don't want to i be /i a star, I want to become one," Chris answered, giving a wry smile as Shawn looked at him in confusion.
It appeared that there was some subtle difference there, though Shawn had trouble figuring out what exactly it was. He was pretty sure the way his face scrunched up when he was confused – Hunter had held up a mirror once – amused Chris, though, because his eyes had that familiar twinkle in them again. He didn't mind, there was something almost satisfying about making the guy smile, even though it was pretty easy to accomplish.
Letting the issue go, not sure he was in a position to ask for an explanation, Shawn absently started dressing, all the while watching Chris. Chris hadn't explained why he was here yet, just like he'd never really said anything last time. Shawn was curious to find out where these surprise appearances would lead, though, and secretly he feared that the easy conversation they had going would turn into another stressing factor he had to worry about once things got more personal. He was reluctant to let it become as such, because it was rather refreshing to talk to someone like this.
"Isn't Benoit jealous that you're visiting Raw instead of Smackdown?"
A hint of surprise in those blue eyes, and then humour again. It felt rather good, knowing he had surprised Chris Jericho. He obviously hadn't expected Shawn to bring up things that would interest Chris more than they would Shawn, or perhaps he'd thought Shawn hadn't paid any attention at all to Chris' friendships.
"He shouldn't be. I spend more time phoning him than I spend phoning my wife. Though she isn't constantly travelling, and I don't use her to stay in touch with wrestling, so the comparison is pretty moot."
"So, you visit Raw because…? If you have Benoit feeding you information, then why bother showing up at live shows?"
"Hey, I didn't say I trust everything the guy says." Chris chuckled. "Besides, I figured with Hunter gone i someone /i has to keep an eye on you, and the only people I trust to do that are on Smackdown. Though I could be using that as an excuse to watch wrestling again, who knows?"
There was a strange sensation fluttering around in his stomach, though Shawn pushed it aside. Part of him was angry at Chris for acting like he was a five year old that needed guidance, and then there was the part of him that was annoyed because he made a joke out of something so serious. However, there was also the part that felt…appreciated. Knowing that people cared, that Chris cared, it was quite a foreign sensation. Usually people expected him to be the one to worry about what was going on, to make it right. He was Shawn Michaels, after all, and all his years in the business should mean that he had a clue, unlike everyone else who were still trying to figure out what the this business was all about.
Shawn was the poster child for bad choices, no matter how his wrestling career looked to outsiders. Yet now he was supposed to be one of wrestling's pillars, support it and not snap in two under the weight. Hunter cared, cared a great deal, but he was feeling the strain as well. And he had a family of his own to support, one that was much more a part of wrestling than Shawn's. Shawn couldn't ask him to share his load, nor to take on even more. It wasn't right.
"I don't need people to keep an eye on me."
A lie, but what else could he say? He was in his forties, a huge star in a multimillion business; he couldn't admit he felt like he was breaking. The look of sadness in Chris' eyes shocked him, caused his breath to catch, but Chris seemed to regroup soon enough, getting up from the bench and heading for the door. He nodded, something Shawn barely caught as he sat there staring.
"Chris, wait.."
Chris turned. "Yes?"
"You haven't reminded me of last time yet."
"I'll remind you when it matters."
"And when will that be?"
The smile on Chris' face didn't say much, though his eyes shone with amusement again. Strange. There was a cat-and-mouse quality to their conversations, though he wasn't sure who the cat was and who the unfortunate prey about to be swallowed.
"I don't know. We'll see."
Shawn watched him leave, just like last time. He wondered if this was going to be a pattern. Two times didn't mean anything, but the things Chris had said indicated this wasn't all. There was something there, a hint of a promise, like Chris was curious to see if Shawn would figure out what he had planned. It should have been disconcerting, but Shawn felt relieved, happy to talk about things with someone who wouldn't see them as an attack on him, or on their boss. For once he had been talking to someone who didn't care, who didn't mind listening, but would have been just as happy talking about the weather, or something equally as mundane. It was refreshing, like he'd stepped out of the clammy grasp of wrestling, slipped away from his responsibility to the business, and had walked into a vibrant garden full of life.
Then the aches returned, and the dull brown of the door reminded him of where he was. Fingers rubbed his legs out of habit and he could feel the painful pulling sensation in his muscles. Soon his back would flare up again, pushed back now because of the more urgent pain in his thighs and the earlier shower. That was usually how it worked. One pain cancelled out the other, until there was nothing left to cancel out and they all attacked him at once. He was used to it, knew it would happen while travelling, or when he was in an elevator a couple of feet from his hotel room. Always when he i almost /i expected to make it, thought he could escape the pain just this once. Never when he was prepared.
Sighing, he grabbed for his phone. Now seemed like a good time to call Hunter. If his friend was feeling like he was, then he'd welcome the distraction. Hell, who knew, perhaps Shawn would tell him about Chris, though he doubted it. That seemed like one secret he'd better keep to himself. At least for now.
"Hey, buddy, how are you?" he asked quietly, throwing the bag over his shoulder and walking out the door, eyes looking to see if he could spy Chris, but failing. Eventually he walked out the entrance of the building, a smile on his face as he tried to let Hunter know what Chris had shown him earlier; that he cared.
