Chapter 4

Now that was a topic Mark could go on for hours, though he also knew certain things to omit. Just things that might make one of those eyebrows on her beautifully gaunt face arch. He began describing how professional wrestling, the way he did it, the company he worked for, was different than wrestling in college, high school, or the Olympics. She seemed to be… very, very interested in wrestling. By the time Cameria returned with the food, Anciana was even smiling and laughing softly. He had been describing some of the wrestlers and their 'characters' to her. Harmless names, harmless characters, nothing like what he was. Some of these characters Mark told her about sounded out of this world and made her laugh, which felt good. Not laughing for 3 months couldn't be good on the human body. She asked him about his character and Mark had gotten quiet, asking her if she truly wanted to know.

"Yes of course. You're my husband, so I want to know everything about you…again."

Anciana assumed she knew a lot about him prior to getting married, even though it sounded like they had a whirlwind romance. This man was gorgeous from head to toe, the black hair only making him more appealing and attractive. Something about Mark made a small twinge form in her mind and heart, Anciana figuring that was the wall that prevented her from remembering all their good times. Mark was reluctant because his character wasn't everyone's cup of tea and, while she was definitely going to find out about his… alter ego, so to speak, he wasn't in a hurry for that to happen yet. Admittedly, he was mildly curious about how Anciana had been prior to him running her pert little ass over, but… he would take what was now in his figurative lap.

"You're looking tired, darlin'." He stood up, moving out of Cameria's way, so she could set up the tray and all that. It was odd, he thought, how she had been 'sleeping' for the past 3 months and a short conversation had left her looking tired and worn out. Mark knew it would take time for her to adjust and moved away from the women, though his thoughtful gaze never left his 'wife'.

After Anciana fell back to sleep and Cameria knew she wouldn't wake up, her eyes fell on Mark, who was watching the sleeping beauty. "You better take care of her." She spoke in a low voice, trying to inject malice into it, but all that came out was exhaustion and defeat. "She means a lot to me…and, if anything happens to her, I WILL hurt you. I don't care how big and bad you think you are. You better take care of my little sister. She's a good kid and deserves only the best. And I know you don't like me and, quite frankly, I don't like you either, but if you could, please have her call me once in a while to check in. That's basically all I want." When he nodded stiffly at her, Cameria stood up from the chair and leaned over to brush her lips against Anciana's forehead. "I'll be back tomorrow to talk to her some more, try to jog her memory. You should get some rest, Mark. Good night." Then she walked out, closing the door behind her and headed home with more tears falling down her cheeks.

That was… weird, very weird, Mark mused, moving to sort of curl himself into the armchair in the corner. The nurses had brought it in for Cameria since he had been regulated to the hallway. Catching naps in the waiting lounge had been both uncomfortable and awkward, given his size. He leaned back, eyes never leaving the woman in the hospital bed. All the arrangements on his end had been made today; he was simply waiting on Dr. Horris. Mark had called in an old friend to assist and, with the around-the-clock personal nurses, he figured she'd be back on her feet in no time. Her memory, on the other hand… he knew right now, as curious as he was about who she was before he had basically erased her, he didn't want her to regain her memory.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

Three days later, after making considerate progress and eating regular foods, along with rebuilding her strength, Anciana was released from the hospital. Mark took her out in the wheelchair and lifted her, placing her in the passenger seat of the car. She buckled up, still feeling somewhat weak, which was to be expected, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. Mark already had their flights scheduled to Houston and she couldn't wait to sleep in a proper bed. Hospital beds weren't comfortable, even in a 5-star hospital.

Cameria called earlier that morning, wishing her well and hoped she kept in contact, which Anciana planned on doing. Cameria was her best friend…even if she couldn't remember their friendship. They were taking a private jet – Mark's boss had insisted on it due to what happened – and it was luxurious, to say the least. Anciana wound up sleeping throughout the flight, leaning her head against Mark's shoulder and his arm around her, soaking in his warmth.

All things considered, this was turning out better than he had expected. Anciana had no family, at least none that she had spoken to in years, from what he had learned, so about the only person he would have to worry about for some time to come was Cameria. However, there was considerable distance between Vegas and Houston and Cameria had missed more than enough work. She would need to start saving again. And if she became a pain in his ass again, he might run her over next. When the private jet finally landed, Anciana was still asleep and he disembarked with her in his arms, leaving their scant luggage to the flight attendants. He had already arranged for a ride home, something roomy for her to lay out in, knowing she was still rather weak. Glancing down into her sleeping face, Mark studied her intently, his own eyes hidden by the sunglasses he was now wearing.

The small diamond on her left ring finger caught the sunlight glinted in the sunlight shining through the tinted window. It was Mark's Ford F-250 truck that he left at the airport when he came to Vegas. WWF was in Vegas the day Mark had struck her down with his car and he'd missed that show, for obvious reasons. Anciana didn't wake up until later that day in a huge, heavenly bed. She slowly opened her eyes, smiling softly at the note on the pillow beside her along with an apple. Mark was outside working and if she needed anything, all she had to do was page him.

Along with the apple and note was a brand-new pager. Hers had been destroyed during the accident. Slowly sitting up, Anciana took a bite out of the apple and sighed softly, looking around the unfamiliar room. The sheets and comforter were black; she wondered briefly if Mark would mind having a few things changed around the house, more specifically their bedroom. After the apple was demolished, Anciana slid out of bed and padded her way downstairs, taking her time since she was still weak.

In anticipation of her eventually realizing his house was not set up for a woman, and to maintain the 'marriage' lie they had fed her -at least until it was no longer a lie, he was working on that-, Mark had his associates procure some personal items from Cameria prior to Anciana's release to put around the place. They had established she had been 'staying' with Cameria, but month-long marriage or not, it would be a good assumption on her part to assume she had been here before, even if not to stay permanently. So, scattered throughout were tiny things of hers, spare used toothbrush in the bathroom alongside his, things of that nature. He had committed himself to this thoroughly.

Anciana enjoyed the small, yet spacious home she shared with Mark, noticing little trinkets and whatnot that belonged to a woman. It had to be her. She remembered what he'd said about traveling a lot and her staying in Vegas with Cameria while he was on the road. It was obvious she hadn't spent much time here, but that would change now that she was on the road to recovery. Her legs…surprisingly, she didn't need much physical therapy. It was like riding a bike to walk again and she'd gotten the hang of it before leaving the hospital. She still had to hold onto stuff like the wall and counters, but for the most part, Anciana had it down.

Making her way to the window, Anciana saw how beautiful it was and the stretch of land they lived on, wondering what Mark was doing outside. Some fresh air would do her some good, so she opened the door and stepped out, sighing in contentment at how warm the sun felt against her skin. It'd been a long time since she felt the sun and been outside for more than a few minutes at a time.

Mark was busy digging a narrow trench outward from the house towards the septic tank. He had bought the house and immediately began renovating to suit his own rather unusual, somewhat peculiar tastes. When he was home, he liked doing the work; it was a great way to exercise and he rather liked the pride he felt, the satisfaction, knowing he had gotten his hands personally involved. He wore just a pair of black, skin-tight jeans and work boots, his hair pulled back into a tail at the base of his neck, blue bandana around his head and shades on, along with copious amounts of sunscreen because he wasn't burning and hadn't been tanned in years. Mark caught movement out of the corner of his eye and straightened up, head turning in her direction.

"I-I know you said to page, but…I wanted some fresh air." Anciana explained shyly, tucking a strand of blondish, wine hair behind her ear.

Cameria had pointed out she needed a dye job, but honestly, it looked somewhat like an Ombre style with the blonde and wine. Anciana rather liked it and decided to keep it for the time being. She looked past him at what he was doing, arching a brow and moved her gaze back to him, trying to stop her heart from racing. For the first time, Anciana noticed he had tattoos from shoulder to wrist, though the sleeves still had a few spots to be inked. They made him even more handsome if that was possible.

"It's beautiful out here, Mark."

Hearing his name from her lips, especially how easy it seemed to be coming to her today, brought a rare smile to his own thin mouth. "It is, darlin'." He chuckled, nodding his head in agreement and moved to lean the shovel up against the house before filling in space between them. At the same time, he was mindful to give her room. "One of the reasons I picked the place." Another, he really liked his privacy. "How're you feeling?" And how the hell was she up and walking? His eyes dropped to her legs, knowing she would wear her little pert ass out.

While Anciana was in a coma, the hospital made sure to work her arms and legs on a daily basis to prevent muscle atrophy as well as losing her muscle mass. She was muscular compared to other women, but not too much to where she wasn't feminine. "Better than I was, that's for sure," Anciana remarked with a smile, shrugging her shoulders and looked up at the sky, closing her eyes to let the sun warm her skin. "This feels so nice being outside and not in a hospital bed. I can't stay in bed anymore."

It was driving her crazy; she had no idea what she did prior to this, but her body looked to be physically in shape. It was strange…Cameria hadn't said anything about what she'd done prior to the accident either, only that she'd married Mark and stayed with her whenever he was gone. For a very good reason since Mark Calaway was a professional wrestler and more than likely worked with Anciana's family.

"I am hungry, are you?"

"Got lunch sitting in the fridge, just needs to be heated up," Mark informed her, surveying her thoughtfully. If she wanted, he'd haul out one of the lounge chairs from the garage and let her bask in the sun for as long as she wanted. "Come on, I could use a break." He bent down to retrieve his t-shirt, using it to mop sweat off himself before wrapping his arm gently but firmly around her shoulders, drawing her into his side and bent down to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

Why did it feel foreign to have him kiss the top of her head? Didn't husbands do that with their wives? At least he was affectionate and showed her kindness, she must've picked well and seen something special in him. Through the gothic look he had going on was a strong, sweet man who had taken great care of her. Granted, he'd been the one who ran her down, but…Anciana found herself forgiving him easily. Probably due to the fact that they were married and somewhere, in her recesses of her mind, she did love him. Why would she marry him if she didn't?

"What did you make?" She asked while they ventured back inside the house, leaning against his side.

"Potato soup." He shrugged when she gave him a pensive look. "Don't cook often, but when I do, it's usually something filling."

Also, he was having a cheat day: starch and carbs. Mark guided her to the kitchen, gesturing to the small table in the corner. Strong but sturdy, it had to be to hold his weight. Fluttering around would be one of the nurses, though he was also paying them well to remain unseen and out of his hair unless their services were required.

"You'll have to do some physical therapy, darlin'." He instructed, his back to her as he began warming up the soup. "Though the way you're getting around tells me not too much."

"Yeah, Doctor Horris said the same thing." Anciana grinned, nodding at the physical therapy comment and inhaled the aroma of the potato soup once a bowl was set down in front of her. "This smells wonderful, Mark." She dipped the spoon into the soup and held it up to her mouth, a thoughtful frown suddenly crossing her face. "What else did I call you besides by your name? I know there's…terms that couples use with each other. Did I call you baby or sweetie or something like that?" She'd noticed he'd called her darlin' a few times, his southern drawl seeping into his somewhat dark toned voice.

Mark could think of a fair few things he wouldn't mind her calling him and he couldn't keep the darkly amused grin from flickering across his face. "Don't like being called baby… or sweetie…" He informed her, that wasn't so amusing. Mark wasn't letting anyone call him 'baby'. He'd have to run her over again and, this time, at a higher speed so the impact was greater. "You called me honey a few times." He said finally, deciding that one he wouldn't mind so much, better than sugar pie or some shit.