IT's now 9 to 7 in favor of Pepsi. I'm trying to figure in where that will become important. Soon, hopefully. I knew what i wanted to do with it, but now I can't make it work. Dammit!

Anyway, after over a week of me delaying, here is the next part. I'm a little nervous, so any feedback will be met by my undying love. Thnxs. SKG

BTW, How many people saw that coming on Friday? I mean really. As soon as McMahon came out I said it was either going to be Morrison or Matt would be coming back. Still an awesome match.

P.S. I hear Jeff's leaving the WWE. Say it isn't so!

Killing Loneliness

October 16, 2008

"Babe, I can't make it better if I don't know what's wrong," he said softly, trying to calm her down.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, pushing his hands off of her. "What isn't wrong? My best friend—or the woman I thought was my best friend—just stabbed a burning hot poker through my back! She had an abortion!"

Punk blinked, surprised by her ire and sorrow, and decided it wouldn't be a good idea to tell her he was pro-choice.

"She knows what I went through, yet she did it anyway! She didn't even tell Alex that she was pregnant!"

Punk was immediately lost again. "Babe, you have to talk to me. Tell me what happened," he said again, gently pulling her back against his chest and rubbing little circles on her back comfortingly.

Jen's shoulders shook as she cried into his t-shirt. Her emotional state was a complete mess. She was so upset that when Punk took her back to her apartment, she wouldn't get out of his car. She just gave him her key and vague instructions on which drawer contained what articles of clothing. When he entered the apartment, he found an equally upset Nicole crying on the couch. She wouldn't tell him anything other than,, "We fought."

So he took her to his apartment. He hadn't imagined she'd be in tears the first time he brought her here, but if things always worked out the way they were supposed to they never would have met in the first place.

"You'll hate me. I hate me," he gasped through the tears, trembling from crying so hard. She wasn't in her wet clothed anymore—Punk had made sure she changed out of them into dry clothes. She was physically warm in her black sweatpants and his sweatshirt, but it did nothing to ward away the cold she felt.

"I won't hate you, I promise. It's okay. You can trust me," he said softly, still holding her close to him.

It was a few minutes before Jen was able to speak clearly. She wiped her eyes with her hand and took a few more stabling breaths before starting. She wouldn't meet his eyes though, and she hugged her arms across herself defensively despite him holding her. "When I was sixteen I was with a guy I shouldn't have been with—he was older than me," she started, her voice quiet. "I was so stupid, but he told me he loved me and that I was beautiful. I hadn't been told "I love you" by a man since my dad had died, so I believed him," she confessed.

"Jen, I don't care about guys you were with before—"

"I got pregnant," she broke his statement with a whisper. "I denied it at first. Only stupid girls got themselves pregnant, and I wasn't a stupid girl. I still went out and partied and drank and I never said, "No," or, "Stop," when he hurt me—and he liked to hurt me," she continued, taking little sobbing breathes.

Punk didn't know what to say, and in his shock his protective embrace faltered slightly. It was enough for Jen to take a few steps away from him and sink to the floor against the wall, hugging her knees.

"Bambi knew. She knew what I was trying so hard to hide. I didn't even tell her and she knew," she continued in a low voice. "At first I hated her for knowing and not buying into my lie like everybody else. But I wasn't taking care of myself—I was destroying myself and the baby inside of me. Nicole's right. I am just a selfish bitch," she said with raw pain in her voice.

Punk, his jaw stiff, sat down slowly next to her and gathered her against him again. She buried her face into his chest again, hiding herself. He held her tightly as she broke down. She was so upset she couldn't even cry. Her voice just stayed flat as she told more. "She made me go to the doctor. I didn't want to, but when I saw the picture of my baby on the ultrasound, I changed my mind. I loved that baby. It was a part of me. But I had already messed things up so much. There's a reason you're not supposed to drink when you're pregnant. Around the 25th week, they saw something on the ultrasound—or a lack of a something more like. Thanks to my drinking and partying and bad habits, my baby had a heart defect they couldn't fix. I didn't want to deal with it, and I was scared, and I got an abortion. I felt so empty. I had left him a few weeks before, but I went back to him. When I told him, he said, 'Good. I don't want to be stuck taking care of a kid anyway,'" she whispered, her whole body shaking.

"Jen, it's—" He couldn't bring himself to say "okay." "I'm here," he said instead, kissing her hair—still damp from the rain—and holding her tighter.

"I hate myself so much," she sobbed, almost hysterical. It was some time before she was calm enough again to speak. When she could talk, the first thing she said was, "How can you even look at me?" She finally met his eyes that were clouded with concern.

"Because I don't hate you, Jen. I can look at you because you're still the most beautiful woman in my life. You're hurting, and I hate seeing you hurt, but I'm not going to leave you for this."

"I don't deserve you," she said softly, resting her head back on his shoulder. "Kaily," she whispered a few moments later.

"Huh?"

"Kaily. That's what her name would have been," Jen answered.

"It's pretty," he responded, his voice soft.

What he should have been doing at nearly two in the morning was sleeping. He had a flight in the morning at seven thirty, which meant he'd have to leave in about four hours to get to the airport and through security in time. But Jen needed him, and the only place she could stay right now was there.

"Come on; let's get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning," he promised.

"I don't want to go to sleep. You leave in the morning," she answered. "I don't want you to leave yet."

"But I have to," he said. "I can't not go."

"I know."

*~*~*~*~*

Hours later when Punk was trying to get dressed so he could leave, he kept glancing back at Jen, still asleep and curled around the pillow he had substituted himself with. She slept with a small smile on her lips in the center of his bed. His male pride was pleased to see her sleeping so soundly, especially after the breakdown she went through the night before.

He left his spare key on the table next to a note telling her to stay as long as she wanted, along with an envelope containing about two hundred dollars for her if she chose to stay. Punk was well aware that there was minimal food in the apartment (mostly since he was rarely home), and didn't want his girlfriend to die of starvation while he was on the road.

Jen must of felt his eyes on her because she slowly blinked her bright green eyes and yawned almost silently. She sat up and glanced next to her, only she didn't see Punk.

"Hey," he said softly, zipping up his duffle bag full of his gear.

She turned her head in his direction and smiled until she remembered that he would be leaving. "What would your boss do if I called him and told him you couldn't make your flight because I had you tied up?"

"Kinky," he remarked. "I gotta go. I can't stay."

"I know," she answered, and Punk had to pull his eyes away from her. It was too tempting just to drop his bags and crawl back into bed.

"Next week come with me," he said, surprising himself.

She blinked again, but this time in mild shock. "What?"

"Come with me next week," he said again, setting his bag on the floor after all. He sat on the edge of the bed and faced her.

"I can't. My job," she answered immediately.

"Alex'll understand. He'd let you go," Punk pressed, determined now to get her to agree.

"He can't afford to give me that kind of time off," she answered back, hugging the pillow across her lap.

"I miss you," he said softly. "I'm so use to putting work before a relationship, but it gets harder to leave every time," he continued, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch and moved to wrap her arms around his neck in a tender hug. Her sweet scent filled his senses, and he buried his nose in her hair.

"We both knew it'd be like this," she said sadly.

"It wasn't like this with other girls."

"Good. Then I don't have to wonder if you'll keep coming back," she answered, resting her head on her favorite place—his shoulder. It was strong and tough and stable, and he tucked her head under his chin protectively.

"Just for a few days? For my birthday?" he tried again, actually using the birthday card for once in his life. He never put much stock in birthdays, but she might. It was worth the try if it worked.

"And when is that anyway?" she asked.

"October 26," he answered.

"You're very frustrating," she answered. She bit her bottom lip, so he knew she was going to cave. "I'll talk to Alex tonight."

He grinned his usual crooked grin and pressed his lips to her. She smiled into the kiss and returned it, trying not to think about him leaving.

*~*~*~*~*

Early morning, April 6

Several hours after leaving the arena, Punk and Jen were as close as they could get to each other in their hotel room, despite the fact that they were in a king-sized bed. They laid on their sides sharing one pillow, face to face. His thumb made little circles low on her back as his other hand served as a prop for his head. He watched her sleep with a soft smile on his lips. Her soft skin was so hot against his, but he wouldn't have it any other way. She nuzzled her head gently against his chest in her sleep, nearly accidently catching a few strands of her hair on one of his nipple rings. Very carefully so he didn't disturb her, he untangled the few strands.

"Pillows don't move," she mumbled anyway.

He grinned at the statement that was so similar to something she had said the first time they had slept together. "Good thing I'm not a pillow," he teased.

"No. You're better. You're a boyfriend-pillow," she uttered back softly.

"I guess I can live with that."

"Damn skippy," she answered, finally opening her eyes and kissing his chest. "Is it morning already?"

"Na. Couldn't sleep," he answered, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "And you looked too tired to wake up."

"Well," she started, tracing the lettering over his stomach, "that's weird. Usually I'm the one who can't sleep."

"Yea, usually you ware me out," he grinned with an eyebrow raised teasingly, his thumb still tracing little circles on her back.

"Are sex and wrestling the only things you think about?" she joked.

"Na; I think about sex with you, too," he smirked.

"And you say I'll be the death of you," she grinned back.

"At least I'll go with a big ol' smile, right?" He winked at her and she broke out in giggles. For being such a "good boy," Phil was a very dirty-minded man. He was sweet and an incredible guy, but he was still a guy. At least she didn't have to worry about other women—he was a pervert with morals and standards, a truly rare find.

"You know I love you, right?" she asked, suddenly quite serious. "Because I do. I really do."

"Good, 'cause I love you, too."