A/N: That's right; I'm BACK! And this time, I'm not going anywhere. No, I'm sticking through to the bitter end with this story. I have to say that, even when this story was on hiatus, I was still thinking about it, still thinking of how to make it better. I watched a lot of my PPVs from 2005, and those gave me a TON of inspiration. So hang on, because it's going to be a bumpy ride from here on out. But...it'll be fun, too, so hopefully you'll stick around. And if you're joining for the first time, welcome! I actually starting writing this chapter before I put the story on hiatus, and I do apologize for it being a little short; blame it on me being a little rusty. :)
Before I begin, I really want to give a shout-out to my best friend, Rosie, aka Nastygrl25. She's been so supportive of me during this whole writer's block crisis that I have with this story, and I want to take the time to dedicate this NEW CHAPTER (yeah, that's right, I said NEW) to her. By the way, you should check out her story on this site, Second Chance. It's a Dave story, and it's awesome, and I highly recommend it.
SHOUT OUTS to all those folks who reviewed WAY back in the day...Thank you to SandraSmit19, coolchic79260, ThatGirl54, Westfan, Esha Napoleon, Jemima Flute and Joviper54 for reviewing the last chapter! You all rock!
Woo-hoo! I am fired up now! Read, hopefully review, but most of all...ENJOY! Peace!
--Katelyn, aka DarkAngelElektra
Chapter 9: Painful Reminders
You don't understand...I have this image...
Batista frowned as he deftly maneuvered the car down the road, the steering wheel turning easily in his hands. He had spent all day traveling; first the early-morning flight from San Antonio to Baltimore, then the half-hour-plus drive from there to the small town just outside of Annapolis. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally--understandable, after having spent the past four days wrestling a pay-per-view, a SmackDown taping, and several house shows. In less than ten minutes, he would arrive at Elektra's house, where he would receive some welcome respite from his grueling schedule as a WWE Superstar--and some even more welcome alone time with his fiancee.
Normally, at this stage in the journey, Elektra would be the only thing on his mind: her eyes, her smile, the soft warmth of her body curled up against his. But for some reason, on this particular afternoon, another Diva was occupying his thought. A Diva as starkly opposite from Elektra as black was from white.
For some reason...he couldn't stop thinking about Melina.
It wasn't the paparazzi princess that intrigued him, however, so much as her behavior the night before. The Animal had had more than his share of encounters with MNM's manager since being traded to SmackDown, none of them nice, and he would have banished this one from his memory as well if it hadn't been so...well...weird.
You don't understand...I have this image...
Was that Melina's version of an apology? An explanation? And her demeanor--so contrite, so sincere...so unlike what he had glimpsed from the Dominant Diva since coming to SmackDown. In the four months that he'd spent on the Friday night franchise, Batista had watched Melina--with those two boy-toys of hers in tow--stomp on anyone and everyone who got in her way.
Regret, remorse, compassion--if the paparazzi princess possessed any of these traits, he had yet to see them. For her to suddenly offer up an apology--not even to him, but to E--was, for want of a better term, weird.
The World Heavyweight Champion abruptly shook his head, switching mental gears and shoving this particular train of thought back into the depths of his subconscious. With everything going on in his life right now, he didn't have time to worry about the Dominant Diva's apparent change of heart. It was hard enough, being the top athlete, the champion, on a brand that still wasn't entirely sure that it wanted him. And then there was this whole situation with E...
Batista stopped as a big wall of guilt slammed into him. He hated using words like "complicated" or "problematic" when referring to the love of his life, the woman he planned on marrying--but sometimes, there just was no other way to put it. Her suicide attempt--as much as he would have chewed off his own arm than use that term, there was no other choice but to identify it as what it was--her suicide attempt had driven a wedge between them, barely perceptible, but there nonetheless. And if E persisted in keeping up this self-imposed barrier of silence, then things between them were only going to become more and more strained.
The love was still there; the love would always be there. But there was distance between them now; distance that, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't seem to bridge.
The Animal sighed. What had Elektra done, what had either of them done to deserve what had happened three months ago? Everything had seemed so perfect: he had just successfully defended his title in the Devil's Playground against the Devil himself—and in doing so, had driven away the last and the worst of his fiancée's tormentors. He was the World Heavyweight Champion, engaged to the woman he loved, the woman he adored. They had already set a date for the wedding—everything had been right. Everything had been perfect.
But then, all of a sudden, everything had changed. He had been traded to Smackdown—and from that point on, everything had gone straight to hell…
He'd thought that, once he'd pinned Hunter inside that steel cage, that it was all over, that he and Elektra had survived the worst thing life could possibly throw at them. How wrong he'd been. The Cerebral Assassin was a sick bastard and the Devil Incarnate, but he was also only human. He could be overpowered, beaten, bloodied; Dave had done it before, and had no qualms about doing it again. But all that brute force, that raw animalistic strength and power he possessed…what good was it when the threat, the danger, was now lodged inside the psyche of the woman he loved?
Three months ago, Elektra had tried to kill herself. Three months ago, she had reached a point where she'd had to choose between him and death—and had still decided that dying was somehow the better option. And that scared him more than anything, even more than not knowing why, because it meant that love was not enough.
After everything that he and Elektra had been through, the one thing, the only thing that either of them could count on was that they loved each other. But now, all of a sudden, that love was no longer sufficient. If his feelings for Elektra were no longer enough to keep her from slashing her wrists open with a razor blade, then what chance did he have of saving her if—God forbid—there was a next time? What if he couldn't save her?
And if he couldn't save her…then what good was he to anyone else?
Batista's thoughts returned to the present as he pulled into Elektra's driveway. Even though his mind had been elsewhere, his body knew the route by heart, allowing him to arrive without incident. The World Heavyweight Champion put the car in "Park" and turned off the ignition, easing his massive frame out of the driver's side.
The Animal paused, taking in his surroundings. All around him were two-story houses, backyards, white picket fences. Everything seemed so calm, so serene, so normal. When he came here, he could almost forget that his own life was anything but.
We could have this...Batista thought to himself. This could be our life, too... He glanced over at the adjacent house, where three or four of the neighborhood kids were playing tag in the front yard. The children barely glanced in his direction; they were more than accustomed by now to the periodic comings and goings of the SmackDown Superstar. Those could be our kids playing out there...the Animal mused. Our kids...E's and mine...
The World Heavyweight Champion felt a slow smile slip onto his face. He could always tell when he was getting close to Elektra, because this extraordinary sense of peace would fall over him; this feeling that no matter what was happening—either in the ring or between the two of them—somehow, it would be all right in the end. It didn't surprise him; the emotional connection between him and Elektra had existed long before the consummation of their physical relationship. During their time in Evolution, they had been forced to deny their feelings for one another, to look but never touch, to imply but never say. Therefore, they would never need words to describe how they felt about each other.
All he had to do was look into her eyes to know that she loved him—just as he loved her. He would always love her, and despite the obstacles that life kept putting in their path, he knew in his heart that they were meant to be together.
Stopping long enough to grab his suitcase out of the trunk, Batista jogged up the front steps, letting himself in with the key Elektra had given him. He and the silver-eyed Diva had been trying to move in together since the summer, but unfortunately, just like everything else, that too had been forced to take a back seat to their careers. So they'd compromised, settling for trading house keys and alternating weeks; one week, he'd stay with her, and the next, she'd come down and stay with him.
The Animal cautiously stepped inside. "E?" he called softly. There was no answer. The living room was deserted, its appearance only slightly less chaotic then it had been back when he'd first visited in December. Batista set his suitcase down next to the door, moving quietly through the downstairs. He checked the kitchen, the dining room--he even poked his head in the sunroom at the back of the house, where Elektra seemed to be content to spend more and more of her time lately. No luck; the glass-enclosed space was empty, too.
Moving back into the living room, Batista jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He paused for a moment to admire the large framed magazine cover that hung at the mouth of the upstairs hallway. The picture had been taken for the May issue of Raw Magazine, and featured him and Elektra standing together, her leaning back against him, his arm wrapped protectively over her chest. The powers-that-be at the magazine clearly must have also had a sense of humor; the headline they'd chosen read: "Beauty & the Beast".
The World Heavyweight Champion glanced down the dimly-lit hallway, his smile fading. The silence filling the house, previously peaceful, now seemed ominous, unnerving. Nowadays, silence terrified him more than the loudest pyrotechnics. It would always remind him of how quiet it had been that night, before one phone call had changed his life forever...
He hadn't been there--that accusation would haunt him forever. And he was always gripped by the irrational fear that life was going to punish him for not being there; that Elektra was going to try again, and he would arrive just in time to see the pool of blood--but too late to save her.
Up ahead of him, the door to the master bedroom was slightly ajar, a beam of weak autumn sunlight spilling out into the hall. Resting his hand lightly against the wood, Batista took a deep breath and pushed it up. The air immediately exited his lungs in a relieved sigh when he saw the silver-eyed Diva lying on the king-sized bed, asleep. She was wrapped in an oversized white hoodie that he quickly recognized as his, and a white knitted afghan covered her legs. Her beautiful face was serene, the worry and sadness absent for once, and the tiniest smile touched her lips.
Slipping off his shoes, the Animal tiptoed across the room, climbing onto the bed and crawling over to where Elektra lay. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
Elektra stirred, her eyes fluttering open, her silver irises lighting up the moment she saw him. "Hey," the gray-eyed Diva whispered, her voice still husky from sleep.
"Hey yourself, Sleeping Beauty," Dave murmured, his face creasing in a tender smile.
Elektra scrunched her face up in disagreement. "Yeah, right--I look like hammered shit."
The Animal chuckled softly, draping his arm over her body and pulling her close. "Baby, if you look like shit, then the rest of the female population might as well just give up because you are, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I've seen all day."
A smile touched the corners of Elektra's mouth. "Liar."
"Never." Dave whispered, dipping his head down to seal her mouth in a kiss. The pair embraced for a while before the Animal reluctantly pulled back, biting back a yawn. "Sorry, E--it's just been a long day."
The silver-eyed Diva merely smiled, reaching out to touch his cheek. "You're here now," she replied. "That's all that matters to me."
Dave wrapped his arms around Elektra's slender frame, pulling her against his chest. "I missed you, baby."
"I missed you, too."
The Animal was already drifting off to sleep; his final words were so soft that only Elektra could have heard them. "I worry about you, E...all the time." And then he was gone, deeply ensconced in the oblivion of slumber, his massive body rising and falling with each breath.
The gray-eyed Diva's smile faded, her expression crumpling into one of pain. Taking care not to wake Dave, she inched her body upward, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I know..." she murmured, her voice cracking. "And I'm sorry..."
"I'm so sorry..."
Elektra reclined on the sofa, her head pillowed on Dave's huge thigh, while she flipped idly through a wedding dress catalog. Above her, the Animal was using the remote control to channel-surf, but from the way he kept glancing down at her, his focus was clearly not on the television. Reaching over, he brushed a stray lock of hair back from her face, his fingers caressing the line of her jaw.
The silver-eyed Diva gazed up at him, smiling. "See anything you like?" She gestured with the magazine.
Without taking his eyes off her face, the Animal jabbed his finger at the glossy pages. "That one."
Elektra glanced at his selection, unable to keep back a giggle. "Dave...that's a measurement chart."
Dave shrugged, chuckling. "What can I say, baby? I'm a guy." The two of them burst out laughing. "But seriously, E," the Animal added when both of them had calmed down. Elektra arched her head back, looking up at him. Dave touched her face, running his fingers over her lips. "The only thing I care about is putting that ring on your finger, looking into your eyes...and promising to love you for the rest of my life."
"Dave..." The silver-eyed Diva pulled herself up into a sitting position. Tears were glistening in her pale irises. Dave reached out, touching her cheek, pulling her to him--but just before their lips could make contact, Elektra pulled back, emitting a yelp of pain.
Instantly, the Animal's amused countenance turned to one of concern. "Oh my God, baby, did I hurt you?" he asked, his tone bordering on frantic.
The gray-eyed Diva immediately shook her head, still wincing in discomfort. "No...it's my neck; I must have slept on it funny. Plus, you're so hard--" She stopped, realizing what she was saying. She shot a Look at Dave, who was already struggling to keep the grin off his face. "Get your mind out of the gutter."
The Animal laughed. "Can I help it if you turn me on?" Leaning over, he placed a gentle kiss on the curve of her neck. "Hang tight; I'll grab you some Advil."
"You don't have to do that--" Elektra protested.
"Yeah, but I want to," Dave interrupted, cutting her off and effectively ending the argument. Rising to his feet, he sauntered over into the small downstairs bathroom, snapping on the light and opening up the medicine cabinet. The Advil was exactly where he remembered it: on the third shelf next to the Band-Aids. As he reached for the container, Dave paused, his attention arrested by the objects on the shelf directly above it.
They were prescription pill containers, two of them; the same generic orange pill bottles that you see anywhere. They had both been prescribed to Elektra; both of them within the past two months. Dave didn't understand the scientific terms written on the label, but he recognized the brand names.
One medication was for the treatment of anxiety. The other...was for treating depression.
As Dave stood there, frozen, captivated by the sight of these two orange containers and the cold clinical language printed on their sides, all he could think was that things were never going to get better, never going to go back to okay. How could things ever go back to the way they were when there were all these painful reminders scattered throughout their lives?
"Dave?" The tentative sound of Elektra's voice jolted the Animal out of his reverie and he jumped, almost losing his grip on the Advil container. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything's fine, baby," Dave replied. Quickly, he unscrewed the cap and tapped two Advil into his palm, before returning the pill bottle to its original. He slammed shut the medicine cabinet door--much harder than he intended--turning his back and walking back out into the living room.
Dave sank down onto the couch next to Elektra, handing her the pain reliever. The gray-eyed Diva accepted the capsules gratefully, popping them into her mouth and taking a few swigs from a water bottle she had on the coffee table. The Animal watched the contours of her throat undulate as she swallowed, his gaze unconsciously traveling to the flash of white scar tissue peeking out from her sleeve.
Were you thinking about me, baby, when you did it?...the World Heavyweight Champion asked his fiancee silently. Were you thinking of ANY about us, of what we would go through without you here?
Or were you only thinking about yourself and your own pain and how to make it stop?...
Elektra set the water back on the coffee table, and Dave hastily swung his gaze back up to her face. The silver-eyed Diva smiled, and the sight of her face lighting up with happiness was enough to send the Animal's doubts scurrying to the back of his mind. All that mattered, all that had ever mattered, was being here, with Elektra. The woman he loved. The woman who was going to become his wife.
Elektra stretched a little, crawling over and climbing onto Dave's lap, her legs straddling his waist. "So..." the gray-eyed Diva purred, her voice falling to a seductive murmur. "What kind of dress do you think I should get?"
"Hmmm..." the Animal mused, reaching to grab onto her waist, pulling her a little closer against his body. "Well...there's always a burlap sack--"
Elektra shook her head. "Nah-ah, too itchy. Plus, it'll look weird in the wedding photos." She gasped a little as Dave's hands slipped under her shirt, traveling slowly upward. "Any other suggestions?"
"Yeah," Dave replied, his voice growing husky. Plucking at the edges of her long-sleeves shirt, he tugged it up and off her body. "How about nothing at all?"
Elektra lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Normally, lying here, wrapped in Dave's arms, was enough to send her falling away toward sleep, but tonight was different. Tonight, she was gripped by a kind of insomnia, plagued by both the inability to sleep and the fear of what would happen if she did so.
But then again, a good night's sleep was yet another thing that had slipped from her grasp over the last months, wasn't it? Along with her sanity, her sense of security, her self-worth--she was running out of non-tangible things to lose. Pretty soon, it would be the tangible things in her life--her career, her few remaining friendships, her life with Dave--that would start disappearing...and when that happened--
No. She could not let that happen. Being alone--totally alone--once again would be worse than anything she had endured. Worse than being Batista-Bombed. Worse than Triple H. Worse than Randy Orton.
Worse even...than being raped.
With slow, cautious movements, the silver-eyed Diva carefully extricated herself from Dave's embrace. The Animal stirred, and Elektra froze, certain that he was going to wake up and ask her what she was doing. But the World Heavyweight Champion merely groaned quietly in his sleep, and rolled over onto his back.
The gray-eyed Diva let her breath out in a quiet sigh. With the same tentative caution, she eased her slender frame off the bed and padded toward the door--making sure to grab a small carved wooden box off her vanity before exiting the room.
Elektra knew the layout of her own house well enough to navigate through the darkness without incident. It wasn't until she reached the sunroom that she turned on a light, a floor lamp that cast golden light across the glass-enclosed space. Elektra walked over to her favorite seat--a white padded chaise lounge--and sank down onto the cushion. She held the box out in front of her, studying it for a moment before taking a deep breath and lifting the lid.
The box contained her favorite and most treasured pieces of jewelry. The diamond pendant she had wore at Wrestlemania 21. The silver ring Dave had given her last Christmas. The velvet box that contained her engagement ring. But Elektra pushed aside these precious trinkets, seeking out something far less attractive...and far more insidious.
The razor blade was small, only an inch or so in length, and when the silver-eyed Diva lifted it out of the box, light glinted dully off the honed edge. She turned it to one side, then the other, studying the blade with a kind of morbid fascination.
It seemed so strange that such a small thing could be responsible for so much destruction; that it could tear her life apart as easily as it had torn her flesh. And it still scared her how quickly she'd been able to make that critical decision; how she'd coldly analyzed all the factors in her life, all the people her death would have impacted...and yet somehow determined that death was the better option.
Maybe that was one of the positives of surviving; it had afforded her the common sense and clarity to see just how stupid and selfish her actions had been. But in some ways...surviving was worse, because it meant going through life in a world that was now half-afraid of her, a world that could no longer truly accept her.
Dying was easy, living--now that was hard.
Elektra closed her hand around the blade, feeling its honed edge dig into her palm. She no longer felt the urge to cut--that had been bled out of her back in July. But she would always contemplate the blade. She would always keep it close to her, to remind her that for a few dark moments of her life, it had been her only friend...and her only option.
And if things kept getting worse; if her life continued to disintegrate as she feared it was destined to...then there was a good chance this tiny scrap of metal could once again become her sole ally.
The gray-eyed Diva shook her head, tears gathering and spilling down her cheeks. "No..." she whispered. "I can't...I won't...I won't make him go through that...not again...not because of me..." But already, memories were starting to overwhelm her--
The way I see it, we both have something that we want...
--memories that refused to stay buried--
I know what you want...
--memories that threatened to destroy her from within--
...So are you going to give me what I want?...
Elektra clapped her hands over her ears, but it wasn't enough to keep the voice out, that hated voice spitting out the phrase that had haunted her for three months...
It's called quid pro quo, Elektra...
With a low cry, the silver-eyed Diva burst into tears. She sobbed so hard that she could barely breathe, her body heaving with the effort of crying. But Elektra clapped her hands over her mouth, muffling the sounds of her misery...lest Dave overhear her. Still, that didn't stop a few words from trickling out into the open:
"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...I never wanted to hurt you...I never wanted to hurt anyone..."
Elektra collapsed onto the chaise, pressing her face against the white fabric as she wept.
"Forgive me, Dave....please...forgive me..."
She was so wrapped up in her crying, she never saw the figure standing in the darkness of the doorway. From the shadows, Dave silently watched his fiancee weep...his own heart breaking as well.