Dark Saviour

Chapter 10 - Painful Truths and Hurtful Memories.

….

Undertaker and Kane walked into the locker room to get ready for their matches that night. All the wrestlers had one more house show to do before they left for the next town. Orton, Edge and Hunter occupied the lockers next to the door, while Rey and Shawn took over the lockers in the middle of one of the sidewalls.

Kane walked over to where Rey was sitting, putting his bag into the locker next to his. Shawn was sitting on the bench watching as Rey tightened the laces on his boots. Taker walked to the other side of the room, taking up a spot away from everybody else; he was the Deadman after all, he couldn't socialize like the others.

"Hey, Mark. Why don't you drag that fine looking ass over here and stop being such a loner?" Shawn called out, earning himself a smack from Rey and laughter from the other Superstars.

"I don't think Rey likes that idea all that much," Kane laughed.

"I don't think he has a problem with Mark joining us in civilization," Orton joked. "But rather that Shawn is staring at his ass."

"Guess he should just stare at yours to be safe," Hunter smirked. "Because Rey knows you don't stand a chance with Shawn."

"Ha, ha. Very funny," Orton replied sarcastically. "Who are you trying to fool, Hunter? Everybody knows you want him to stare at yours."

Hunter stood up and stared down at the other Superstar. "As long as it keeps him from looking at your ugly ass, he can stare all he wants," he smiled, smacking his ass.

"Now who's looking at whose ass?" Edge laughed, earning a glare from both Orton and Hunter.

"For the record, I don't want Shawn looking at anyone's ass but mine," Rey piped up.

"Aw, come on," Shawn said. "There's enough of me to go around."

"If that's how you want it," Rey pouted slightly. "Then consider me off limits," he said as he got up, picked up his bag and walked over to where Undertaker was getting ready. Rey placed his stuff in the locker next to Taker's and went back to getting ready.

"Rey," Shawn hung his head.

"Aw, the greatest couple in all the WWE has called it quits," Edge said sadly.

"Should we call the tabloids?" Orton whispered to Edge.

"How much do you think we'd get for the story?"

They both looked over at Shawn who had his head in his hands, shoulders shaking slightly. Kane put an arm around Shawn's shoulders as he shook his head.

"About a hundred dollars each," Orton answered.

"Not good enough," Edge waved Orton off.

"Oh well. It was a nice thought," Orton said, turning back to his locker.

"Are you two finished yet?" Taker asked, directing his question to Rey and Shawn.

"No," Shawn said, pretending to sob uncontrollably while Rey could no longer hold back his fit of laughter. Taker merely rolled his eyes at the display. He swore those two pretended to split up at least twice a week.

Before anyone could answer, Jericho burst into the room, looking around quickly. "Drat."

"What's the matter there, kid?" Hunter asked his brow furrowed.

"Nothing," Jericho replied, distracted.

"No, there's definitely something up. What is it?" Edge asked, concerned.

"It's nothing, really. I was just looking for Jeff."

"Why?" Orton looked over at Jericho, confused.

"We have a match tonight and I just wanted to go over it with him," Jericho answered.

"Did you try calling him?" Shawn asked.

"I tried the hotel but he didn't answer."

"Try his cell," Kane suggested. "He could be running a little late."

"Do any of you have his number?"

"I do," Rey said, fishing out his own cell phone so that he could hand it to Jericho.

"Thanks," Jericho said as he looked through Rey's phone book and quickly put the number into his before calling it. After a few seconds, Jericho shook his head. "No answer."

"That's odd," Hunter said, slightly confused.

"Did the phone actually ring?" Edge asked, looking at Jericho.

Jericho nodded. "Yeah it did. But he didn't pick up."

"Could still be hung over from last night," Taker shrugged as everyone turned to look at him.

"What are you talking about?" Jericho asked.

"Come on, it was a party to send his bother off," Kane answered, looking between his older brother and Jericho. "People often get drunk when they're upset."

"How could he have done that?"

"It's called drinking too much," Orton replied, shaking his head.

"But that's impossible. He only had one drink at the party," Jericho shook his head. "I saw him. He wouldn't get drunk that quickly."

"Even the strongest drinkers can get drunk fast on an empty stomach," Hunter shrugged.

"Besides, he may have had more once everybody left," Kane added. "When he was all alone."

"Maybe," Jericho shrugged.

"Just to make sure, how about Jericho and I go back to the hotel and see if he's still there?" Taker suggested causing everyone to turn and look at him funny again. "It's just a suggestion."

"Yeah but, not one we'd expect from you," Shawn replied.

"You worried about him?" Hunter asked, trying to tease the Deadman.

"No," Taker replied simply. "I was only thinking that I would be the faster driver. I do have my bike with me."

"That is true. Mark can be fairly reckless on his bike," Kane agreed.

"What should we do then?" Rey asked, looking at Taker, worry etched on his own face.

"Keep calling the hotel and his cell. See if he finally decides to answer it and also look around here. He may just be hiding in some dark corner," Taker answered. "Maybe playing hide and go seek."

"Why would he do that?" Edge asked, curious.

"I don't know," Taker snapped, his gut clenching as his memories surged. "All I know is that I don't want a repeat of what happened last time."

Shawn patted Taker sympathetically on the shoulder. "Don't worry, that won't happen again."

Taker shrugged off Shawn's comfort. "Obviously you don't know Vince all that well," he said.

"Or do you forget what happened to Punk when someone else didn't show up on time."

Shawn nodded, stepping away from the big guy. "Well, at least Jeff is the one who holds the title and his brother did just leave. Vince may be a little more understanding."

Taker didn't respond, he merely grabbed his coat and walked out of the locker room, a confused Jericho following behind him. Undertaker was silently grateful that he hadn't changed into his ring gear yet as he walked with determined strides down the hallway and out to the parking lot.

After the two men left the room, Orton and Edge looked at Shawn in confusion. "What the hell was that about?"

….

Jeff lay wide-awake in his bed, eyes closed against the dream that continued to plague him. Yet, even as he tried to convince himself it was only a dream, the pain that traveled the length of his body continued to tell him the truth. As Jeff lay there, it felt like the pain seemed to be slightly more intensified then before. It almost felt like the bruises that had bruises now had bruises.

Closing his eyes, he found that he could remember very little from the night before. He remembered the party and he remembered talking to Matt as they waited for a cab, but everything after that became a confusing blur.

I went to bed, that's it. We had a party, I drank a little too much and I dreamed that Matt left. I dreamed that . . . he paused in his thoughts as he opened his eyes. His throat constricted a bit when he saw that the other bed was empty. Okay, maybe Matt did leave last night. That doesn't mean that the rest of it wasn't a dream, a nightmare.

Jeff closed his eyes once more, willing everything to go away. He didn't want to think about anything anymore. It was too confusing to think about it. He slowly drifted down into a fitful sleep, vaguely hearing his cell phone ringing. Jeff knew he should answer it, but he was too exhausted to lift his arm. Eventually, the phone stopped ringing and the room fell into silence again, allowing Jeff to continue drifting in and out of consciousness.

He didn't know how much time had passed since he first woke to find Matt's bed empty. He swore that he had heard his phone ring a couple more times, but he was so out of it that he couldn't be sure.

It wasn't until he heard the heavy pounding on his door that Jeff even moved. He rolled painfully onto his other side and looked at the door, swearing he could see it shake with each knock.

"Who is it?" he finally managed to croak.

"Jeff? Are you in there?"

Chris? Jeff thought, trying to figure out why he would be banging on his door. "What do you want?" he cried hoarsely.

"We came to find you. Can you let us in?"

We? Jeff's brow furrowed, trying to think of who else would come knocking on his door. "The door should be open," Jeff replied. I think . . .

"Okay, we're coming in."

Jericho opened the door slowly, poking his head through the opening. He scanned the dark room slowly until he saw Jeff curled up in bed, the blankets pulled up all the way to his chin. Jericho walked in the rest of the way, followed shortly by Undertaker.

"What are you guys doing here?" Jeff asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

"You didn't show up at the arena. We were worried about you," Jericho answered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You were?"

"Of course we were," Jericho smiled softly, brushing hair out of Jeff's face and flinching slightly when he saw the massive bruise along his jaw. "What happened to you?"

Jeff didn't look at them, nor did he answer.

"Jeff, what happened?" Jericho repeated.

"Nothing."

"Damn it, Jeff! What did you do last night? You better not have done something stupid" Jericho snapped, turning away in frustration. With his back turned toward Jeff, he did not see the smaller man cringe away as he yelled, but Taker noticed.

"Look, nothing happened, okay?" Jeff said meekly, his voice barely a whisper.

Jericho sighed, closing his eyes in anger. Before he could speak, Taker put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. "Interrogating him like that isn't going to do anyone any good."

Jericho didn't respond, instead he thought about Taker's words of advice. "You're probably right," he nodded in agreement as he looked back toward Jeff. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, I didn't mean to. If you don't want to say anything, you don't have to."

"Thanks," Jeff smiled weakly.

"But you do have to get up and go to the arena," Jericho smiled back.

"Why?" Jeff asked, confused.

"Because, we have a match tonight and we don't want Vince having a hissy fit cause you're not there," Jericho explained.

"Oh," Jeff eyes were down cast.

"But, if you want, I could tell Vince that you're sick?"

"No," Jeff shook his head. "I'll get up."

"What?" Jericho asked, unsure if he had heard correctly.

"Could I be alone for a bit?" Jeff shrugged. "So I can get ready and all."

Jericho smirked, rolling his eyes slightly. "Okay, but if you're not out in fifteen minutes, we're coming in after you."

Jeff smiled. "I know you will."

Jericho nodded as he stood up and left the room, Taker heading out just a few seconds before him. Jeff lay in the bed for a few seconds longer, trying to muster the courage to move. He really didn't want to get up and confirm what his body was already telling him. After five minutes had passed Jeff sighed and finally pulled the covers away so that he could swing his legs to the floor.

….

Twenty minutes later, Jeff hobbled out of his room to find that both Jericho and Undertaker had taken up spots on either side of the door. Smiling slightly, Jeff walked past his two guards and made his way over to the elevators. He didn't have to look behind him to know that Jericho and Taker has fallen into step behind him. The trio walked onto the elevator and rode down in silence. The silence was only broken once they reached the parking lot.

"Um, how do you plan on getting us all to the arena on one bike?" Jeff asked, his eyebrow arched as he gazed upon Undertaker's prized mode of transportation.

"Mark is going to drive you to the arena," Jericho explained. "I'll be taking a taxi."

Jeff tried to keep his excitement from showing on his face. He had always loved Taker's taste in bikes and had imagined riding on one for years, but that had merely been a dream, a fantasy. Jeff had never once thought that he would actually be able to ride on one.

"Why?" Jeff managed to say.

"You need to get to the arena faster then I do," Jericho shrugged. "You still need to check in so you don't get into trouble with Vince for being late."

"Hopefully the others kept their mouths shut around Vince," Undertaker remarked.

"Why would they have to do that?" Jeff asked, confused.

"You didn't show up so you're late for the show," Jericho answered. "You know Vince hates it when people are late."

"And if we don't get going soon, we will all will be late," Taker interrupted, looking between the two smaller men.

"Go on, don't worry about me," Jericho smiled.

"Okay," Jeff nodded, waiting until Undertaker mounted his bike, before sitting behind him.

Jericho stepped back from them as the bike was kicked into life. Taker nodded once to Jericho before speeding off down the lot and was quickly lost amongst the evening traffic. Jericho stood there for a few minutes before making his way to a waiting taxi, feeling slightly jealous. Even though Jeff had tried to hide his excitement, Jericho had noticed it.

Why does that bother me? We aren't together and we probably never will be. It shouldn't be bothering me this much. It was a one-night stand. He's allowed to move on. Sure, Mark is a lot older then him. Hell, he's older then me! But if it makes Jeff happy I should be happy for him. I should be happy that he found someone to care for him, Jericho paused in his mental tirade as he felt something tear within him. He placed his hand against his chest as the cab drove to join the traffic. Turning his gaze out the window, he felt like he could still see Jeff riding on the back of Taker's motorcycle, his arms around the Deadman's waist, their bodies pressed close together.

As that thought entered his mind, it was quickly taken over by his own memories of that unforgettable night before New Years, when their bodies had been close together. Jericho turned away from the window.

It was one night, that's all, nothing more, he looked out the window once more, the arena finally coming into view. But then, why do I feel like I just lost a part of me?

….

Jeff sat in the locker room, his head leaning against the wall. His eyes were closed as he waited for someone to come tell him that his match was next. He let his mind drift away, hoping to keep himself from thinking about the night before. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't shake the memories.

Flashback

"What's the matter, Jeff? Don't you want to play anymore?" Cena laughed as Jeff tried to roll away. "Or do you want to play with JBL again?"

"Please . . ." Jeff pleaded weakly as he tried to focus on what was happening.

"Please what? Do you mean, yes please?"

Jeff merely groaned as he subconsciously tried to burrow into the bed; the blankets had long since disappeared.

"What was that?" Cena smirked, looking up at JBL who was on Jeff's other side.

"Don't . . ."

"We can't understand you, kid," JBL said, leaning over Jeff's form. "You have to speak a little clearer."

Jeff mumbled something incoherently, causing both Cena and JBL to start laughing as he shivered.

"Sorry, you can't have the blankets back," Cena smiled, stroking Jeff's back. "But there are other ways to keep you warm."

Jeff tried once more to move away as he felt Cena's bare skin touch his own. If his limbs didn't feel like lead, he would have killed the bastard for just being in his room, let alone having Cena actually touch him. The few moments he was conscious, he silently wished that he were dead, instead of having to lie there and feel their bodies against his.

End of Flashback

Jeff shuddered involuntarily as the memories swam into his mind. He could feel a lump growing in his throat as his heart began to tighten. Squeezing his eye's shut, he tried to block the feeling of their touch.

God, I wish Matt was here.

"Hey, Jeff?"

Jeff opened his eyes, blinking away the little black dots that had formed. Shannon was standing next to him, his face full of concern.

"Hey, Shan, how are you?"

"Better then you it seems," Shannon stated, sitting next to Jeff, his hand on his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Jeff replied a little hoarsely.

"Then why are you crying?"

"What?" Jeff asked, his hand going to his face. "I . . . I didn't realize I was crying," Jeff said as he wiped the tears from his face.

"Jeff, you know you can talk to me, right?"

Jeff nodded, trying to smile. "I know I can, but nothing's wrong, honestly. I just miss Matt more than I thought I would."

"Why are you lying to me, Jeff? I know something else is bothering you?"

Jeff shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

"So there is something else wrong!"

"Nothing I can't handle on my own," Jeff replied, his thoughts once again going back to the one thing he could clearly remember from the night before, the one warning Cena had given him.

"Jeff," Shannon looked away. "If it's got you this torn up . . ."

"I can handle it, okay? You don't have to worry about it," Jeff said, putting a hand on Shannon's shoulder.

Shannon looked over at Jeff. "You should call Matt."

"No," Jeff replied quickly, standing up.

"Jeff, he's your brother. If you can't talk to me, then at least talk to him."

"I'm not going to drag him into this," Jeff muttered, looking away from Shannon.

"Drag him into what?"

"Forget I said anything."

"You know I can't do that," Shannon replied as he tried to get Jeff to look at him. "So, why won't you tell Matt what's wrong?"

"Because I don't want him to get hurt because of me!" Jeff snapped, storming out of the locker room, leaving Shannon alone to wonder what had gotten into his friend.

….

A/N: Aw . . . poor Shannon . . . poor Jeff.