A/N: Over 70 reviews. That's all that I'm gonna say. Thank you all so much and here is Chapter 8 for your reading enjoyment. Keep reviewing! :)
Look After You, Chapter 8
"I'm gonna kill that little bastard," Randy Orton snarled from where he knelt beside Cody Rhodes. Cody had woken up a few minutes ago with a killer headache and a four-inch-long cut on his forehead, but otherwise he was okay. Randy was still pissed, though; nobody attacked his two friends and got away with it. As he pressed a wet washcloth to the cut in Cody's forehead, he found himself daydreaming about what he was going to do to that little weasel Daniel Bryan. He knew that punting had been banned, but perhaps Vince would make an exception just this once.
"Get in line," John Cena growled. He was pacing around the small locker room, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He scowled when he got voicemail again. "Dammit, doesn't Punk ever pick up his goddamn phone?"
"He's out looking for AJ, bro, I doubt he's paying attention to anything else," Zack Ryder pointed out from where he sat on the couch. The Long Island Iced Z had his signature headband off and was wringing it in his hands, a distant look on his face. It was obvious that he was just as worried about AJ as the rest of them. He and John had scoured every hallway they could find and had come up empty, as had Dolph Ziggler and The Miz, who had surprisingly joined in on the search.
"I know Bryan is a vegan psychopath who has an addiction to yelling random one-word answers at the top of his lungs, but I never pictured him as a kidnapper," Miz muttered from his position on the couch next to Zack.
Dolph stared at him. "Dude, do you have any idea how stupid that sounded?"
Next to Dolph, Ted groaned and put his head in his hands. "This is all my fault. If I had been paying more attention, then Bryan wouldn't have gotten in and AJ would still be here."
"It's not your fault, Teddy," Randy said, looking up at his friend. "Bryan snuck up on you like a coward. He's the one who–"
The sound of a cell phone ringing cut him off. Everyone scrambled for their phones, desperate to see who was calling and if they had any information regarding AJ.
"It's mine," Randy called. Everyone went silent as he flipped it open and lifted it to his ear. "Hello? Sheamus? What–"
Randy stopped talking and listened, his eyebrows drawing together. Then his eyes grew dark and the look on his face became murderous. "Where are you?" he demanded. He listened as Sheamus answered, and then he said, "I'm on my way."
As soon as Randy hung up, all the Superstars in the room started talking at once, their various questions melting together into one big wall of noise. "SHUT UP!" Randy yelled, and they all fell quiet once again.
"Teddy, take Cody to the trainers' room," Randy ordered Ted, who immediately scrambled up and knelt beside his injured friend. "Make sure you get that eye checked out, too," he added more softly. Ted nodded and began to help Cody sit up.
"Randy, what did Sheamus say?" John asked, concern lacing his voice.
Randy barely glanced at him as he ripped the locker room door open. "They found AJ," he said shortly.
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"...and then after he beat on me a bit, he left," AJ said. She had just finished telling Punk and Sheamus what had happened, and by the thunderous looks on both of their faces, she had a feeling that Daniel Bryan was going to get torn limb-from-limb the next time they saw him.
"I guess my little eighteen-second humiliation at WrestleMania didn't work as well as I had hoped," Sheamus grumbled. He ran a pale hand through his ginger hair and set his jaw. "I'm gonna murder that little midget the next time I see him."
"Not before I get a piece of him," Punk growled. He had found an old blanket in the supply closet and had wrapped it carefully around AJ. She was now snuggled into his side with her head resting on his chest, listening quietly as the guys plotted their revenge.
"Don't forget Orton and Cena," Sheamus added. "They'll want in on it, too."
"Oh, don't worry. We'll make sure they get their shots in," Punk spat. "Ted and Cody, too. I'm sure they want revenge for the ambushing he gave them."
While the two of them were talking, AJ heard footsteps approaching at a rapid pace. She tensed up, afraid that it was Daniel back to hurt her some more. Punk felt her stiffen, and he looked up, ready to leap to AJ's defense in case it was her exe. But he quickly relaxed when it was Randy Orton who came jogging down the hall instead of Daniel Bryan. John Cena was right on his heels, and Evan Bourne–who had tagged along after spotting them running by his locker room–appeared soon after.
"What hurts?" Randy asked as he knelt before AJ, his voice uncharacteristically tender.
"Everything," AJ said lightly, attempting to joke about her current situation. But when nobody laughed, she sighed and added, "Mostly my face and ribs, but I don't think anything is broken."
Randy nodded. "Okay, but we should still get you checked out by the trainers just in case." He started to reach for her, intending to lift her up, but AJ tightened her arms around Punk's neck, fear flashing across her gaze. Randy quickly pulled his hands back.
"It's okay," Punk murmured, half to AJ and half to Randy. "I'll take her."
He slipped one arm around her back and the other under her legs, careful not to hit any bruises. He lifted her up and backed out of the closet. He carried her down the hall and headed in the direction of the trainers' room, the rest of their little posse surrounding them protectively.
AJ rested her head against Punk's chest and closed her eyes while they walked. The rhythmic swaying motion of Punk's steps and the steady rise and fall of his chest under her cheek were soothing her to sleep, despite all the pain she was in. Before she drifted off, she mumbled, "I'm so happy you came for me, Punk."
Punk lifted her in his arms slightly and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "I'll always come for you," she heard him promise.
And then she sank into darkness.
