Chapter Three

"Hey, Rocko! Look at the nerve of that Drago! His men put you on the news! Look at the crap they're sayin' about you!" Rocky glanced up from the book he was trying to read and focused in on the TV on the hospital wall facing him.

"Turn it down, Paulie, I'm growing deaf here." Rocky complained as the pounding in his head worsened. Where Paulie did so, Rocky gazed, slack-jawed, at the video of him first knocking out Ivan and then collapsing himself. A broad smile spread on his face, and he said, "Hey, Paulie! I'm on the news! Tell Adrian, would ya?"

"This is bad, Rock! You look like a schmuck!"

"Don't be such a...what's the word...pes-pessimist!" Rocky straightened when Adrian entered the room, teary-eyes, and his stomach dropped.

"Yo, Paulie, could ya give us a minute?" Although he grumbled under his breath, Paulie stood up stiffly and waddled out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Hey, how ya doin'?" He said in an attempt to be cheery to Adrian, noticing the red around her eyes.

"I heard. I heard about the fight. I heard that you have permanent brain damage. Did you not think to tell me? To tell your son?" Her voice shook, but Rocky couldn't tell if it was from sadness or anger.

"I'm sorry, Adrian. I just didn't want you to worry about me." Rocky said sheepishly, looking away.

"Did you see the news? I mean, come on, Rocky! How could you? Not only did you embarrass yourself, but you embarrassed our family. You hit someone who was trying to help you on National television!" Rocky felt defenseless against her accusations. Each word hurt worse than a blow from even Ivan, and he just gazed imploringly at Adrian.

"You know I don't want to hurt ya none! I love you!" Her lower lip trembled, and she seemed to be torn. Running a hand through his jet black hair in frustration, Rocky cleared his was he supposed to do? After a moment, Adrian approached and unexpectedly reached forward to put her hand on Rocky's cheek, meeting his dark eyes tenderly.

"Rocky...I love you. I always will. But I can't do this anymore. I can't sit around and watch you destroy yourself. Destroy our family. Everything has to be a fight for you. You always have to prove yourself. I'm going to be gone for a little while. I'm taking Robert with me."

"No, Adrian, please, I need you now more than ever!" A tear slipped down her pale cheek, and she turned around, clutching her purse tightly against her chest.

"I'm sorry." With that, she left. Unable to think, to breathe, to move, Rocky gaped at the spot where Adrian had just been. What had just happened? How had he let this happen? A strangled cry escaped his lips, and a lump formed in his throat. He couldn't do anything right. His heart...was so empty. So cold. Where had everything gone? His fighting career, Adriana, his son.

With only anguish in his head, in his heart, Rocky rolled out of his bed, ignoring the massive headache that began plaguing him, and began running in his hospital gown. He ran out of his room, through the halls, past rooms that flashed before him, and up stairs. More stairs and more stairs until he was outside on the roof. When he finally stopped, listening only to the furious pounding of his heart, Rocky let out a cry of misery and pain. His life was over. What else did he have? Paulie? Fighting was over. Mick was dead. Adrian had left. He staggered to the edge, where he just sat down; sat with his legs dangling over the side of the building that was more than ten stories tall. The dots rushing by were cars. No one was stopping to look up at him. Noone cared. He shouldn't have to care either; he didn't have to feel anymore; face anyone.

"Yo...Rocko! I say you running down the hall! What-what are you doing up here? You should be in your bed!" He recognized Paulie's panting voice immediately, but didn't respond. "Can I come over? Is it okay with you?" Rocky nodded numbly, still staring forward. "Why don't you come back over here with me?"

"Why? Why should I?" Rocky burst out, his words slurred with emotion.

"What do you mean? I just don't want you to get hurt!" Paulie's voice went higher and became more grating as his desperation grew.

"It doesn't matter if I get hurt, Paulie! Can't you see that? Everything's gone!"

"What's gone, Rocko? I care!"

"Adrian! All gone! All gone! What have I got? Nothing!" Paulie closed his eyes, his lips moving as if silently in prayer, before sitting beside Rocky with confidence.

"That's what I thought, too. But now I know I got God." Sniffling, Rocky squared his shoulders.

"What about him?"

"You said you lost everything. But not him."

"Then why did he make Adriana leave?"

"It's all for your good, Rocko. Just...please don't do anything you'll regret later." Scoffing, Rocky swiped at his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

"My good? I just don't know anymore, Paulie! I just don't know." Slumping over, Rocky tried to convince himself internally that God loved him. But how could he know? He messed up.

"Why don't you just come down so we can talk about it?" Paulie's hand was gentle on Rocky's arm; an unusual occurrence between the two. Somehow, it worked to calm Rocky down so that although his chest still heaved with labored breaths, he nodded and wearily stood to retreat from the edge.

"You make me go nuts there for a second, Rocko." Paulie said, relieved that he had managed to diffuse the situation.