It was over now, I realized, reeling in pain. Pin me - one, two, three. The body that had just fallen from almost four feet in the air didn't remain on me long - he rolled away and his brother dropped down for the pin. It was a loose pin - he was tired, too - but I was too exhausted to kick out. I felt hands on my boot, however, and I was gruffly pulled from under the elder Hardy before a three count. A little too gruffly, if you ask me, because the pull not only broke the pin but also bodily dragged me out of the ring and I fell flat on my back on the concrete. Overkill, thy name is Gangrel. Before he could strike again, Doc Hendrix came to my rescue. He was most likely more upset that Gangrel had just cost his proteges the match and not that Gangrel was senselessly abusing me, but either way I was left alone long enough to crawl to my knees, wheezing, to peer over the ring apron.
Well, that was unpleasant, too. I got up just in time to see the darker Hardy hit a Northern Lights suplex into a pin on Edge and watch the ref drop his hand three times. Done. I crawled back into the ring as the Hardys celebrated and went to check on Edge who hadn't moved yet.
"Edge?" I whispered, kneeling next to his head, my mouth close to his ear. His chest was rising and falling deeply because he was winded.
"This sucks," he muttered, almost causing me to smile.
"Are you going to lie there all day?" An angry voice growled. That quickly changed my mind about smiling and I looked up to 'Grel. There he stood, having put his sunglasses back on as if to further display how comfortable he was, towering over Edge and I who were sweating, exhausted, and defeated. I looked back down to Edge with a grimace, but instead of arguing he used energy that I couldn't even imagine where he was hiding and got up to follow Gangrel - who was already leaving. Despite an urge to yell for Edge to not move, I once again held my tounge, regained my composure, then grudgingly got up to follow them.
Once backstage, we walked in silence towards the locker room, Edge and I side-by-side following Gangrel. It was a good thing that neither of them were watching me or they would have seen the daggers in my eyes at Gangrel. It wasn't even a matter of winning or losing anymore, Gangrel was attacking me. What, was he trying to fight me for Edge? Did he think that he could make me leave Edge that easily? Fuck you, 'Grel, blood is thicker than kool-aid.
"Hey, good match, guys."
I stopped for a second and turned to the speaker. The older Hardy brother, Matt, smiled at me then took a drink from a bottle of water which he passed to his little brother. I would have smiled back, I'm sure, if I wasn't about to rip someone's head off. Instead, I just watched him blankly before turning to catch up with Edge and 'Grel who hadn't even stopped long enough to acknowledge Matt's hospitality.
"Those guys are kinda weird," I heard Jeff tell Matt quietly.
"Like y' have room t' talk," Matt shot back with a slight laugh. I tried to wall off the corner of my mind that was trying to drudge up memories of when Edge and I used to play around like that. Unsuccessful. I looked bitterly between Edge and Gangrel, unsure of who was to really blame for his change, as we entered the locker room and found our respective bags. A nice shower would cool me off, I hoped. And I don't mean physically.
Before I found the showers, though, Gangrel loudly zipped his bag shut and hefted it on his shoulder. Edge and I both turned slowly as he walked to the door.
"You're leaving?" Edge asked, genuinely surprised.
"Let me know when you're ready to be serious about this."
"'Grel, I..."
Edge looked positively crushed as the door shut. I watched silently, then turned back to my bag before throwing out, "It's better this way, really..."
"What?" Edge turned to me, blankly. He wasn't asking for clarification, he was asking for repetition. Christ, he hadn't even been listening to me.
"It's better this way," I repeated, louder. "Him being gone."
"He thinks I'm a terrible wrestler. I am a terrible wrestler. I shouldn't have lost."
"I don't think that was your fault," I said, turning to face him.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, after 'Grel took me out of the match, who was supposed to help you?"
"He took you out of the match?"
"You didn't see that?" I asked, incredulous.
"See what?"
"After Jeff hit the Swanton on me, Matt went for a cover but Gangrel pulled me out of the ring."
"Well, he was trying to help. Break the pin."
"Bullshit, Edge. He pulled me straight out of the ring and dropped me on the floor."
"Well, I'm sure -"
"You don't need to defend him. He did it on purpose."
"Why would he do that, Christian?" Edge asked, not believing one word of what I was saying. He turned back to his travel bag.
"I don't know."
"Because there is no good reason," Edge explained. "He's trying to help us."
"Help us?" I asked in disbelief. "He's using us."
"What are you talking about?"
"He sees our potential, I'm sure - or at least yours - and is trying to ride that to help himself."
"I'm showing off my potential by laying on my back the whole time?"
"He's holding you back. He's holding usback."
"And I'm sure you think the Hardys would be better to learn from?"
"I'm not saying that they're better to learn from. I am saying that they beat us tonight." He finally stopped moving, his back still to me. He'd heard that. I crossed my arms over my chest in triumph.
"Fine, fine, learn from the Hardys. If you don't want to do that, go learn from that ancient Doc Hendrix. It makes no difference to me."
Back so soon? I held my tounge and flashed an angry look at Gangrel.
Edge finally turned and protested more eagerly than he should have. "No, 'Grel, it's not that..."
Speak for yourself.
"What is it, then? Are you not disciplined enough?" 'Grel raised a hand as if to strike Edge. Edge's eyes widened in surprised, like a deer frozen in headlights. Like hell I was going to let him do that.
"Hey - !" Before I could complete my thought and the vicious blow that was to accompany it, 'Grel had turned on me and beat me to it. I fell back, reeling and tasting blood in my mouth.
"Hey," Edge repeated, much more weakly than I had declared. Through my haze, I noticed that there was a look of abject concern on his face. He took a step towards me but 'Grel stopped him, violently jerking his arm.
"He deserved it. Do you agree?"
"'Grel, I..."
Oh, this was good. He really was trying to turn Edge against me. I looked to Edge, honestly afraid of what he might answer. Refusing to give Gangrel the pleasure of seeing me suffer, I stood up without rubbing my jaw and glared defiantly at Edge. Say it. No, I did not deserve that. Edge blinked in surprise, casting glances between 'Grel and me.
"Too long," 'Grel cut him off in a singsong voice as he finally opened his mouth to speak. In a flash, Gangrel had snatched up a chair and smashed it against Edge's left side.
"Hey!" I yelled again, almost feeling the chairshot myself. Not that it was necessary to, because, as I went to help Edge, Gangrel brought the chair down on my head. I fell back, again, blinking. Gangrel looked at the both of us with disgust, dropped the chair, and left again. After the initial shock, I looked over to Edge. He was likewise in a daze. Not so much from the pain, I assumed. He'd been through worse. This was some kind of confusion. I grimaced and put my hand to my forehead, not sure if the pain was worse from the punch, chairshot, or headache my dork chop brother was giving me for being so slow.
"You ok?" he asked after a minute.
I sighed. Edge was getting up and heading my way. When he reached out his hand, I took it and let him pick me up. "Do you believe me yet?"
Edge frowned. "Not now, Christian."
With that, he headed towards the showers.
"Then when, Edge?" I yelled, pissed off. He didn't respond, just vanished around the corner. "Edge? Goddammit!"