Emma slowly opened her eyes. She removed the blanket from over her head and sat up, looking around her room. What time was it?

She looked at her digital clock and her eyes widened. It was almost 11am. Why did she sleep in so late?

Realization struck her and she let out a groan, laying back down. She pulled the blanket back over her head and closed her eyes. She would have cried if she weren't already all cried out.

She felt drained. Both emotionally and physically. There was nothing she could do except relieve the other night over and over again in her head.

She would have laughed if she could. It was just so ridiculous. What was she thinking? Steve Borden interested in someone like her? Yeah, right. She should have known that there was something wrong there.

Two silent tears trailed out from under her lashes and down her cheeks. Emma's eyes suddenly flew open and she quickly sat up, dashing the tears away.

No! No, she wasn't going to do this. She wasn't going to give in to her misery. She had done enough of that last night.

She surged out of bed and went into the bathroom to wash her face. As she dried it she began to stare at her reflection in the mirror.

The woman looking back at her appeared exhausted, her face pale and drawn. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. She was actually surprised they weren't swollen.

"Ugh." she muttered and promptly turned away. She couldn't stand to look at herself any longer.

Emma wandered out to the living room and drew to a stop. The truth was, she didn't know what to do. She was at a complete loss.

She supposed she should just take a day to deal with what had happened. But that would mean having to deal with her emotions. And she was still too raw, too devastated, to do that.

She needed to do something. But what?

Look for another job, she thought with a smirk.

The smirk began to waver, though. Soon her bottom lip was trembling and she had to fight not to cry.

She let out a groan and rubbed her hands over her face. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to think about this. All she wanted was to be numb.

She removed her hands and it was then that she noticed her answering machine was lit up. Dread welled up inside her. She really didn't want to listen to messages right now.

And yet curiosity got the better of her. She just couldn't help herself.

Emma wandered over to the couch and curled up at one end. She hit the button for the machine and leaned back, closing her eyes.

"Emma," Tara's voice called out, "Sweetie, I am so sorry about what Bischoff did to you. Give me a call, okay?"

"Em," Chris Sabin's voice filled her apartment next, "Man, this sucks! Alex and I are gonna trash Bischoff's car. Maybe slash his tires and put sugar in his gas tank, too."

Emma couldn't help but smirk at that.

"Emma."

Her eyes opened and she slowly turned to the answering machine.

Sting.

"Emma, we've got to talk." his voice tried to appear even but she could hear the anxiety just below the surface, "Look, I'm sorry for-"

She quickly reached over and turned off the machine. She didn't want to deal with this right now. She didn't want to deal with him right now.

Correction, she didn't want to deal with him ever again.

She rose to her feet and went into her bedroom. Reaching under her bed she pulled out her suitcase and opened it. She began opening drawers and pulling out clothes, tossing them into the case. She grabbed a few clothes from her closet and added them to the pile.

She needed to get out of there. Away from everything, if only for a few days. If only to think.

She was packed and ready to go in a few minutes. She locked her apartment door and crossed over to her jeep. Throwing the suitcase in the back, she climbed in and started it up.

Within seconds she was taking off out of the parking lot and down the street.

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Sting sat in his gym later that morning, working out. It had been a long, rough, sleepless night. When he had staggered out of bed that morning he was still filled with anger. Anger he needed to get out.

And so he'd been in the gym, purging himself with an intense workout for hours.

Lowering the weights onto the bar, he leaned forward, scrubbing a hand over his face. Rising from the bench, he grabbed a towel and a bottle of water. He took a healthy swig of it before rubbing the towel over his face.

He emerged from his gym and began to make his way into the kitchen. As he did so Bongo came cautiously up to him, whining.

Sting leaned down and gave him a few healthy pats on his side, "Sorry, buddy. I know I'm not in the best of moods right now."

They went into the kitchen and he let the dog out. As he closed the door and turned around his eyes landed on his machine. Nothing.

As much as it was a long shot, he had hoped that maybe Emma would have called. He needed to talk to her. He needed to apologize again.

He closed his eyes and sighed, raking his hands through his hair. He could feel his anger simmering just below the surface, ready to erupt.

He needed to know what it was going to take for her to trust him.

Yeah, he was guilty for using her passwords. And she had every right to feel angry, maybe even violated, at that. He didn't fault her if she did.

But how could she believe he had been using her? After all the talks they had had, everything they had shared with each other, everything that had happened between them. . .how could she believe he didn't care about her? Why did it always come down to her not trusting him?

Sting leaned back against the island and crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing in thought.

He wondered why he bothered. Why did he have to keep going back to her? No woman had ever given him this much difficulty before.

But realization came over him as he slowly straightened, his arms falling to his sides. No woman had ever meant as much to him as Emma did. And she did mean something to him. He didn't know if it had an exact name. All he knew was that it was intense. And it never stopped.

He began to pace the length of the kitchen. She had to feel something for him, too. He was no longer convinced that she only saw him as a friend. She wouldn't have opened up to him the way she had. She wouldn't have reacted to him the way she had. The looks she'd given him, the shy smiles and sweet blushes. No, there was more there. He was sure of it.

He closed his eyes and went back to last night. To that horrible part where she had looked up at him with those dead eyes and taken his hand and placed it over her heart.

"This is my heart. And you just broke it."

For him to have broken her heart, that had to mean that she cared about him. Or, at least, she had. And if she had, he couldn't let her go now. He had to make things right between them. He had to. . .No, he needed to make things right between them.

He needed to see her again.

He opened his eyes and headed off to get changed. He had to see her. Make her hear him out. And if she still couldn't believe him after that. . .

He didn't know what he would do then. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

But he was going to see her. And they were going to finally have it out.

He got changed in record time and took to the road, driving towards her apartment building.

It wasn't long before he reached it. As he climbed out of his SUV and made his way towards her door his mind raced. He tried to figure out what he was going to say to her but, for once, he was at a loss for words.

He stepped up to her door and knocked urgently on it.

When no answer came he tried again.

When still no answer came he tried a third time, this time calling out, "Emma, open up! We need to talk!"

But still there was nothing.

"Oh, she's not there."

Sting turned around, noticing the neighbor in the apartment adjacent to Emma's was standing there watching him. The attractive young woman regarded him with a bright smile and cocked her hip to one side, hand resting on it.

"Sorry but you just missed her by, like, an hour." the woman told him.

"Do you know when she'll be back?" Sting inquired.

The woman shook her head, "I couldn't say. Sweet girl, that one, but awfully quiet. Anyway, I saw her leaving this morning with a suitcase. So I think it might be awhile."

Sting swallowed, everything in him going still. A suitcase. . .

"Are you okay?" the woman took a step towards him and offered another bright smile, "Would you like to come in and talk about it?"

"What?" Sting blinked, coming out of his thoughts, "Um, no. No thank you."

He turned and headed back towards his SUV. As he did so he pulled out his cell phone and quickly punched in a number.

"Hello?" Tori answered a few seconds later.

"Tori, have you talked to Emma?" he got right to the point.

"Sting. . ." Tori's voice trailed off and he could tell she was thinking.

"Tori, please." he implored her, "I've got to talk to her. Please, if you've spoken to her-"

"I. . ." he could hear her taking a breath before she went on, "I did. She called me a little while ago. She told me she was leaving for awhile. She said she needed to get away and take some time to think."

"Where?" he asked.

"I don't know." Tori replied, "The truth is, Emma's not so sure herself. She said she was just going to drive for a little while and see where she ended up. She promised she'd call me, though, when she found a place to land.

"I'm really sorry." she went on, "I wish I could tell you more."

"No, you've been great. Thanks." he paused, something in his mind clicking, "Is Bischoff there?"

"Eric? Yeah." Tori told him, "He and Gunner are working on some promo for Gunner. They're filming it right now, actually."

"Do you think I still have time to get there?"

"Sure." Tori replied, "They've just started and you know those things can take all day. Why?"

"You'll see." Sting said before hanging up.

He quickly jumped into his SUV and went tearing out of the parking lot.

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Eric stood behind the camera and watched Gunner as he recited his promo. The Impact owner's closed, his hand clasping the bridge of his nose.

"Cut!" he bellowed in irritation, "Cut! Gunner, you're putting me to sleep back here. Either do it again, and do it right, or I'll get Bully Ray to do it!"

Gunner looked over at the smaller man, his eyes slowly constricting. Eric noticed that his fists began to clench and he took a slight step backwards.

"All right." Gunner muttered darkly, "Sorry, Mr. Bischoff."

"Action!" Eric snapped and the Immortal member started again.

He turned away, not really concentrating on Gunner's promo. The truth was it wasn't even the promo, as bad as it was, that made him angry. No, he had been angry ever since last night.

He had been so certain that Emma would have come begging for her job back by now. In fact, he expected her to have done it last night.

But no. When he had gotten back to his office he hadn't found the sweet young thing waiting for him. Instead he had found a disaster area. The she-bitch had torn the place apart.

He couldn't help but smirk at that. She really was a little spitfire and he was sure she would be a firecracker in bed.

He let out a sigh and returned to Gunner. Oh well. She'll swallow her pride eventually. And then he'll go easy on her. He began to smile slowly. Well, maybe not quite so easy.

Eric watched as Gunner stepped into the ring and stood on the ropes.

"This is my house." the young wrestler growled into the camera, "And if you come into my house, you're gonna get stomped."

He took a few steps back, slamming his fist into the palm of his other hand. Even Eric had to admit that he looked ridiculous.

"I'm Gunner and I-"

Whatever else Gunner was going to say promptly died when the lights did. The arena was unexpectedly pitched in darkness.

"What the hell?" Eric raged, "What the hell is going on? Turn those lights back on now!"

Almost as if in answer the arena was once again lit up. Eric's eyes widened as he discovered that Sting was standing behind Gunner. The older wrestler was decked out in his ring gear and face paint, his baseball bat in his hand.

"Gunner, look out!" Eric warned.

But it was too late. As Gunner spun around Sting delivered a vicious blow to his gut. Gunner gagged and, clutching his stomach, sank to one knee. Sting grabbed a hold of the younger man's hair, his eyes never leaving Bischoff's face. Though his face paint was that of the Insane Icon, there was nothing but malicious intent darkening the wrestler's features.

"Yo-you let him go right now, Sting." Eric demanded, "Let him go right now and leave and I won't fire you."

"You don't have the stroke." Sting growled, "Besides, I'm not some innocent woman you can screw over for the fun of it."

And with that, he sent another brutal shot, this time to Gunner's back. The Immortal member's back arched as he cried out in pain.

"That doesn't concern you!" Eric yelled, "What happened is between me and Emma!"

"Like heck it is!" Sting snarled and sent another blow to Gunner's back, "You set her up, Bischoff. You set her up to get fired so that you could force her to sleep with you to get her job back!"

"It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't used her passwords." Eric spit back at him.

Sting paused, glancing down at the bat in his hand. He shook it a few times, his eyes narrowing in thought.

While that was going on Tori slipped into the arena and made her way down the ramp to ringside. She looked back and forth between wrestler and owner, her eyes wide. She had heard the commotion and come to check it out. She was completely surprised by what she had found.

"I know." Sting looked back at him and muttered, "I know my part in all of this. And I'm going to do whatever I can to make it up to her."

He cast dark eyes to the fallen Gunner, "And if that means I have to go through ever single member of Immortal to do it, I will."

He slowly turned back to Eric and finished, "Ending with you."

"Don't you threaten me, you freak." Eric snarled.

"Oh, it's not a threat, Bischoff. " Sting offered a cold, dark laugh, "It's a promise."

And with that he yanked Gunner up by his hair. Turning him around, he delivered a Scorpion Death Drop to the injured man.

As he rose to his feet he retrieved his baseball bat and slowly pointed it at the Impact owner.

"Give Emma her job back." he warned, "Or I'm coming after you."

At that the lights went out again. When they came back on Sting was gone.

Eric gulped, his concerned gaze going to the fallen Gunner. The Impact owner's face was ash white and he was shaking ever so slightly.

He slowly looked around and noticed that the crew was staring at him with disgust.

"What are you looking at?" he demanded, "Get some help down here, dammit!"

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Emma leaned back against the headboard of the hotel bed. It was getting late and she was beyond tired.

She had spent the entire day just driving. Where, she didn't really know. She hadn't had much of a plan, aside from getting out of Orlando. And the only reason why she had eventually stopped was because she had grown too tried to drive any farther.

She laid down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. This was the moment she had been dreading. With nothing left to occupy her mind her thoughts turned to Sting. She had been able to put him out of her mind the whole day, but she knew it was just a matter of time until he crept back in like some marauder.

She closed her eyes and let out a shaky sigh, a single tear trailing down her cheek. As she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling more tears began to fall. Hugging herself, she rolled onto her side and cried out her grief.

Grief. Such an aptly named word. She felt like she was grieving; suffering some undeniable loss like the death of a loved one.

And, in a way, she supposed that was what it was. She had been in love with him. And she had lost him. Forever.

How could this have happened? How could she have allowed herself to fall so hard, so deeply, in love with him?

She opened her eyes and wiped at her face. Rolling onto her back she once again cast sad eyes to the ceiling.

The truth was, she hadn't allowed herself. She couldn't stop herself. Falling in love with him was like breathing. It just. . .was.

The girlhood crush of her youth had grown into love the moment she had gotten to know him. Actually, 'knowing' him didn't quite describe it. No, it was more like 'experiencing' him.

And what she had experienced was a man who was brave and courageous. Who was selfless and big hearted. Who stood up for whatever he believed in and didn't back down no matter the cost.

Or, at least, that's who she thought Sting was. The savior of Impact, willing to do whatever it took to get rid of Immortal.

She felt a cold smile cross her lips. Yeah, he'd do whatever it took to get rid of Immortal, all right. Even if he had to use her to do it.

She let out a shaky sigh and sat up. She couldn't think about that right now. She'd just make herself go crazy if she did. No, what she really needed right now was sleep.

Emma eased off the bed and knelt down to retrieve her suitcase. Lifting it onto her bed, she threw it open, pawing through it to find her pajamas.

As she did so she slowly paused, her eyes widening in surprise.

Her notebook was sitting at the bottom of the case. She hadn't even realized she had packed it.

Reaching out, Emma slowly took hold of it and lifted it up. Her fingers trailed across the cover as she regarded it silently.

She eased back onto the bed and opened it, flipping to a new page.

Whenever she had a an idea that just had to be put down, a problem, or a bad day, or just needed to let everything out, she would turn to her notebook and write.

But she hadn't written in so long. The words hadn't come in so long. What if they never did again?

She turned to the nightstand and opened it, relieved to find a pen inside. She turned back to the empty pages and stared down at them.

Slowly, cautiously, the words began to come. They were tentative, tripping and stumbling over one another. She had to do much crossing out and adding, but they came. Soon they were flowing at a faster pace and she had to hurry to keep up with them.

She ended up working on and on late into the night until, at last, she fell asleep, clutching her notebook to her chest like a shield.. . .

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She was awoken that next morning to the sounds of her phone going off. She quickly sat up and looked around in confusion.

Eventually realizing where she was, she reached over and picked it up off the nightstand.

"Hello?" she yawned.

"Where are you?" Tori's worried voice filled her ear, "Why didn't you call me?"

"Sorry, Mom." Emma laid back down and rolled onto her side, "Don't ground me."

"Not funny." Tori muttered.

"I'm sorry." Emma sincerely apologized, "I got in late last night and crashed. I'm sorry for worrying you."

"It's all right." Tori asked, "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know." Emma replied, thoughtful, "I think I'm too tired to feel much of anything right now."

"So where are you?" Tori asked.

"About twelve hours outside of Orlando." Emma remained vague. Not that she didn't trust Tori, but she thought it best that nobody knew exactly where she was.

"Do you have a laptop with you?" Tori unexpectedly asked her.

Emma sat up, her eyes narrowed in confusion, "I don't have a laptop. I have a desktop. Why?"

"Can you get to a computer?"

Emma pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it in bewilderment.

Bringing it back, she answered, "There's a cyber café right down the road. Why?"

"Just go there and call me when you're online." was all her friend would tell her.

Worry began to well up deep inside her chest. Had something happened?

Had something happened to Steve?

Despite all that had happened between them, at the first notion that something might have been wrong with him she instantly felt afraid.

Emma jumped out of bed and quickly got dressed. She walked out of the hotel and down to the café.

As she entered she punched in Tori's number.

"Okay, I'm here." she told her as she took a seat at an empty computer, "What's going on?"

"Go online and go to the Impact site." Tori instructed her.

"Tori, why can't you just tell me what's going on?" Emma demanded, her panic starting to rise.

"Trust me, it's better if you see it for yourself." was all her friend would say.

Emma went online and typed in the address for Impact. As she clicked on the site she leaned back in her seat, her eyes wide.

Staring back at her was a picture Sting, standing over a fall Gunner, baseball bat in his hand. Under the picture was the caption: STING OUT FOR REVENGE

She clicked on the picture and was instantly taken to a video. Her eyes widened as she silently watched on.

Gunner was in the empty Impact Zone, performing a promo for the camera. Suddenly the lights went out and there was Sting. He attacked the younger wrestler, knocking him to the ground. He then proceeded to threaten Eric in between issuing vicious shots to the fallen man.

"Give Emma her job back. Or I'm coming after you." was his final warning before the arena was once again bathed in darkness.

"Well?" Tori prompted after a few minutes of silence.

Emma closed out of the site and turned away. She blinked back her tears, fighting to stay in control.

"It doesn't matter." she murmured, shaking her head.

"Doesn't matter?" Tori repeated, surprised, "Emma, didn't you watch the video? He's going after Immortal to get your job back!"

"And it wouldn't have been in jeopardy to begin with if he hadn't used me." Emma argued as she rose to her feet and started walking out of the café.

"I don't think he used you." Tori told her gently, "He just made a mistake."

"Yeah, well I'm getting tired of his 'mistakes'." Emma muttered.

"Emma, come on." Tori tried to get her to see reason, "If Sting had used you, then why would he try to get your job back?"

"Maybe he feels guilty." Emma replied, "Maybe he can't get anymore information without his little mole around, who knows."

"Emma-" Tori sighed, but the other woman cut her off.

"Thank you for what you're trying to do." Emma told her, "I do appreciate it, Tori. But I just don't believe it. Once bitten, twice shy. Only now it's been about three times bitten and I don't have anymore blood left to give."

She bid her friend goodbye and hung up the phone. She walked a few more steps until she came to a bench. Sitting down, she leaned forward, head in her hands.

She couldn't do it again. She could risk taking another chance on him. Her heart couldn't take it.