Sting stood in his dressing room Thursday night. Outside he could hear the hustle and bustle of the crew as they ran the show. The sounds of wrestlers as they walked by, either laughing about things that had happened in their personal lives or discussing their upcoming matches.

But inside his dressing room all was still.

His eyes were cast intently on the mirror, staring at the figure before him. The reflection regarded him evenly, brown eyes narrowed slightly in deep thought; his mouth a slash against his face.

It wasn't long until he heard a knock on the door, a voice calling from the other end, "We're almost ready for you, Sting."

He blinked, slowly coming out of his thoughts. He stared at his reflection for a few more moments before giving it a nod. The man in the mirror looked set, determined.

He turned and made his way over to the door, opening it, "Thanks, Jason."

Jason nodded and walked away, speaking into his headset.

Sting stepped out into the hallway and quietly closed his door. He began to make his way to the front, his pace steady and his eyes straight ahead.

As he walked a few of the wrestlers called out to him, wishing him "Good luck", telling him to "Go get 'em". But he paid them no heed. He didn't even hear them over the thoughts rattling around in his brain.

He came to the entrance of the stage, everything in him tensing. Soon the sounds of 'Slay Me' hit the arena and he stepped out to the cheers of the crowd.

The fans may have been expecting to see the Insane Icon, but there was no joyfulness coming from the wrestler. His eyes were locked on Goldberg and Bischoff. A long conference table stood on the middle of the ring, separating Bischoff and Goldberg from the Icon. Jeremy Borash stood at the head of it, contract laid out before him.

Sting stepped into the ring, he and Goldberg staring intently at each other. The other man regarded him coldly, his own stance taut.

"Thank you for joining us, Stinger." Jeremy spoke up, sliding the contract over to Goldberg, "Goldberg, if you'll go ahead and sign the contract."

Goldberg looked down at the contract, studying it for a few moments. He looked over at Sting and offered him a sly smile before taking up the pen, leaning over and giving it a sign.

Jeremy looked down at it as the mammoth wrestler shoved it over to him. He nodded, content, and passed it over to Sting.

"Sting, if you'd go ahead and sign please." he requested.

Sting slowly reached over and took hold of the pen, turning it round and round in his fingers. He stared down at the contract for a moment before turning back to Goldberg.

Not taking his eyes off of the other man, he signed his name in the dotted line.

Bischoff's gaze constricted. It had always unnerved him that Sting was able to do that.

Jeremy picked up the contract and began to smile.

"In three months, at Bound For Glory, the Icon Sting will face-" whatever else he was going to say was cut off as Goldberg snatched the microphone out of his hands.

The crowd began to boo him but Goldberg paid them no heed. His narrowed eyes were locked on the Insane Icon. Sting regarded him evenly, his body tensing as he prepared for whatever was to come.

Goldberg looked him over for a few moments. And though he began to sport a smirk it didn't mask the rage dancing in his eyes.

"'Icon'?" the massive wrestler repeated, "Did I just hear Borash call you an 'icon'?"

Not waiting for the aforementioned icon to answer, he went on, "So what makes you such an icon, Sting? What makes you so worthy to these pieces of garbage?"

The fans began to boo loudly at the insult.

"Everywhere I go all I hear about is Sting." Goldberg snarled, "The Icon. The Franchise.

"I should have been the Franchise of WCW!" he bellowed, "I came in when that company was down on it's knees and I was the one that brought it back up! Me! Nobody else had the record I had! Nobody else had more wins than me! Nobody!"

He began to laugh coldly, "But no. No, all anybody remembers from WCW is the all holy Stinger."

His smile twisted, becoming ugly, "But they forget, their great and powerful Sting never beat me."

Sting's eyes narrowed slightly at that but he remained silent.

"Remember that, Icon?" Goldberg snickered, baiting him, "Remember all those matches you and I had? Remember how hard you tried. But you never pulled it off, did you?"

Eric began to grin. He remembered back on those times quite fondly.

"Not too long ago I got the call from Eric." Goldberg went on, "He asked me to come in and take care of a little problem for him. And what do you know? The little problem was you. I jumped at the chance. I couldn't wait to come back and embarrass you one last time."

"So what happened to you, Bill?" Sting wanted to know, "I used to think you had integrity. I used to think you had honor. You were one of the few people in this business that I believed would never sell out."

At his words the crowd began to chant "You sold out! You sold out!" Goldberg regarded them darkly, but said nothing.

"But you did, didn't you, Bill?" Sting went on, his voice gaining in volume, "You got in bed with the devil himself! And for what? Money?"

"No, Stinger." Goldberg interjected, "Though the money was a nice incentive."

"So what is this all about, Bill?" Sting inquired, "Are you angry that I care about these fans and they in turn care about me? Are you angry that they bestowed such a humbling honor on me by calling me an Icon?"

He paused, a slight smirk dancing on his lips and a twinkle beginning to shine in his eyes, "Or are you angry because the only thing anyone is going to remember you for is that lackluster match you had with Brock Lesner at Wrestlemania?"

Goldberg's face turned red and he began to tremble in fury. Surprisingly he stayed put, though. Sting imagined it must have taken all of his resolve to do so.

Sting's smirk grew, his white teeth baring in a wide grin, "Is that what this all comes down to, Bill? Jealousy?"

"You're damned right I'm jealous!" the behemoth wrestler suddenly bellowed, causing even Eric to flinch, "What the hell makes you so special? What the hell did you do to deserve being called the Franchise? The Icon? I beat your ass so many times. . ."

His voice trialed off as he realized that he had allowed Sting to get to him.

He turned back to the Insane Icon and began to smirk, "When it all comes down to it, you're nothing but a joke. I mean, look at you! You look ridiculous with that stupid face paint! You act like a goddamned idiot and these dumbasses still cheer you!"

As if on cue the fans began to cheer, some of them chanting Sting's name.

"Face it," Goldberg went on, "You've lost it. Both in your head and here in the ring. You couldn't beat me on your best day. Do you think you've got a shot now, you broken down old man?"

The fans began to chant "You still got it!" but Sting's own smile slowly began to fade. He would by lying to himself if he said he wasn't nervous. If he didn't doubt himself. He just had to look at his record against Goldberg as evidence.

But this time wasn't about a championship. It was about so much more. It was about getting Dixie's company back from that weasel, Bischoff. And more importantly, it was about freeing Emma from her contract and getting her manuscripts back to her. Where they belonged. He couldn't lose. There was just too much at stake.

"I won't lie, Bill." he replied as the cheering died down, "I won't lie and tell you our past matches together haven't been on my mind. You are a great wrestler. I won't deny that."

He turned and looked at the other wrestler, set, "But this time, it's not about just you and me. There's no championship on the line. There are more important things here at stake. You see, what I'm fighting for, is to take the power away from that piece of garbage right there."

He pointed at Eric, earning a noticeable gulp from the smaller man. Eric caught himself, though, and slowly began to smile as he remembered that he had Goldberg watching his back.

"I'm fighting to take the company away from him," Sting went on, "And put it back in the hands of it's rightful owner, Dixie Carter."

The crowd began to cheer at his words.

"I'm fighting," Sting went on, his voice gaining in both volume and passion, "To get a good, talented woman out from under the thumb of that man." he again pointed to Bischoff, "I'm fighting to get her out of a sadistic contract and get her manuscripts back where they belong!"

"And that's why you're gonna fail." Goldberg countered, his cold grin returning, "Because I'm not doing it for a couple of stupid women. I'm doing it to show each and every one of these people what a pathetic, washed up, has-been you are. I'm doing it to show them who the real Franchise, who the real Icon, is.

"Oh, and by the way, how is your little girlfriend doing?" he asked with a smirk, "There is one thing I noticed when I was spearing her to the ground and knocking her out cold. She's got a sweet, soft little body. I liked the feel of it underneath me."

Sting regarded him silently, everything in him still. At his almost hollow expression even Eric began to get nervous. He knew that look. Had seen it quite a few times before. It was the look Sting had just before he was about to snap.

He no sooner thought that when the Icon reached over and took hold of the head of the table, flipping it over. The fans began to cheer as both men stormed to the center of the ring, forehead-to-forehead.

"What are you gonna do, Icon?" Goldberg asked with a grin, "Huh? What are you gonna do? Gonna hit me? Try it, old man. Try it and see what happens."

Sting's lips pursed, a dangerous light dancing in his eyes. Without a word he hauled off and sent a vicious punch into the other man's jaw. That was all that was needed for a full fledge brawl to breakout. Sting and Goldberg went toe-to-toe, drilling each other with blow after blow. Neither man seemed to feel the shots, each one more intent on doing damage to the other.

It wasn't long before security and even a few of the guys in the back came racing to the ring to break it up.

AJ, James and a couple of security backed Sting into a corner. Bobby Roode, Al Snow and a couple of other security guys did the same with Goldberg in the opposite corner. That didn't stop the two from taking trash to one another, though.

"Just like old times, huh, Bill!" Sting yelled with a grin, adrenaline humming through his body.

"Come on, Icon!" Goldberg yelled to Sting, "Come on, Franchise! That the best you got?"

That seemed to set Sting off again. He quickly ducked away from the guys and launched himself across the ring and at Goldberg. They were once again trading blows to the sounds of the crowds' cheers.

It wasn't long until they were once again broken up. Eric tugged at Goldberg's shirt and eventually the massive wrestler slipped out of the ring and walked backwards up the ramp. He grinned up at Sting as he and Eric made their ascent. It wasn't long before they slipped behind the curtain and were gone from view.

"Now that's what I call a good time." James grinned up at the Icon.

Sting shook his hand, as well as AJ's. The three left the ring and made their way up the ramp and to the back.

A few the wrestlers called out encouragement to him as he made his way down the hallway and towards his dressing room.

Even before he reached it, though, he could hear his phone ringing. He quickly entered the room, closing the door behind him.

"I'm all right." he grinned, answering the call.

He heard Emma sigh on the other end, "Good to know. So did it feel good to get out all of that pent up rage and frustration."

"Sweetheart, that was just the tip of the iceberg." Sting took a seat on the couch, leaning back against the cushions, "I haven't even begun to get out all of my rage and frustration."

He heard her snicker on the other end and it caused his smile top grow.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, instantly serious.

"I'm all right." she replied quickly, maybe a little too quickly for his liking, "Just resting here on the couch."

"Good girl." he said gently, "Do you have your ice pack?"

"Yes." he could hear the smile in her voice as she added, "And my ice cream."

"For the rib, of course." Sting replied with mock seriousness.

"Of course." Emma concurred before adding softly, "Just be careful, okay?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Sting couldn't help but rib.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Emma exhaled.

There was a small pause, followed by, "So are you coming over after?"

Sting drew silent, his eyes closing briefly. He wanted to take her up on the offer. More than anything, he wanted to see her. Touch her.

But he couldn't do it. Since her attack the guilt he had been feeling continued to eat away at him. Every time he looked at her all he could see was Bully Ray hitting her with the bat and Goldberg spearing her. Over and over again.

It was worse when he slept. He couldn't escape the nightmares. He had woken up on more than one occasion, sweating and his body shaking; panic running through his system like a locomotive.

"I. . .ah, I don't think so." he replied at last, "I'm going to get out of here pretty late and you need the rest. But I'll come over tomorrow for dinner. Hey, I'll even bring Chinese. I think I hear the Kung Pao Chicken calling your name."

"Yeah." Emma said, trying to hide her disappointment and failing, "Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Get some rest, sweetheart." Sting murmured before reluctantly hanging up the phone.

He exhaled, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling.

What was he going to do?

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Emma walked through her apartment with relatively more ease that she had four weeks before. She wandered into the living room and retrieved her notebook. Clasping it to her chest, she turned and walked back into her bedroom and took a seat at her desk.

She flipped open the book to the page where she had left off. Turning to the computer she began to type, her fingers flying across the keyboard as her eyes moved from page to screen and back again.

She glanced back towards the book and paused, her eyes landing on the picture on her desk. It was a photo Tara had taken weeks ago, one night after an Impact show. It was of she and Sting. She was leaning back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, his chin against the top of her head. They were looking at the camera, smiling brightly.

Back when times were happier, Emma thought with a frown.

She let out a sad sigh, leaning back in her chair. In those four weeks since she had been let out of the hospital Sting had made himself scarce. Sure, he would call her every night to see how she was doing. And he came by at least twice a week to have dinner with her.

But other than that, she'd barely saw him at all. A sarcastic smile crossed her lips. In fact, she was sure she saw him more on TV than in real life.

Emma looked up at the ceiling and sighed. She knew he was spending all of his free time training. Focusing all of his energy on Goldberg. That's what he was supposed to be doing. She understood that.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that. It was almost like. . .almost like he was pulling away from her.

She wasn't blind. When they were together he was considerably more quiet. Thoughtful. And he was starting to put her at arm's length.

What she didn't understand was why. Surely he couldn't be feeling guilty. What had happened to her wasn't his fault. It was because of Goldberg and Eric. He had to know that.

She rose to her feet and began to wander out of her bedroom and back into the living room. She needed to get up. Walk around. Something.

She made her way over to the coffee table and pick up the remote. She turned on the television and sat down, beginning to channel surf.

After a few minutes, and finding nothing on, she sighed and tossed the remote onto the couch. Running her hands over her eyes, she leaned back against the couch and looked up at the ceiling.

He was slipping away from her. She could feel it as keenly as she could the dull ache in her ribs.

Actually, the pain of possibly losing him hurt much worse.

What could she do to bring him back? How could she show him that what had happened to her wasn't his fault?

How could she reach him?

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A little over two months passed since that contract signing at Impact.

Sting had spent the majority of that time in the gym, either working out or working in the practice ring.

His nights were spent going over his previous matches with Goldberg. And the matches the behemoth had had since then. Sting would stay awake night after night, studying. Scrutinizing. Picking up every subtle nuance he could from Goldberg.

He wondered if Goldberg was doing the same? Probably not, the more he thought about it. The arrogant wrestler was so sure he would have an easy win that he probably felt he didn't need to study his opponent.

Sting was hoping for that. Banking on it. And if it proved to be true he was going to capitalize on it.

He closed his eyes and kept his breathing slow and even as he raised and lowered the barbell.

While he did so his mind began to flash on image after image of Bill Goldberg. His conceited smirk. His brutality in the ring.

But again and again he kept going back to the spear he delivered to Emma.

With each flash of that image he felt his anger begin to grow. And he pushed himself just a little bit harder with the barbell.

He did nearly twenty more reps before having to stop. His eyes flew open and he practically dropped the massive weight, taking a few steps back and bracing his hands on his knees. Leaning over he took a few deep breaths to try and steady his pounding heart.

At last he stood, raking a hand through his hair. He snatched up his towel and scrubbed it over his face. He tossed it around his neck, grabbed his baseball cap and slipped it onto his head. As he picked up his bottle of water he turned and began to make his way towards the locker room to shower and change.

He had just entered it when he heard someone call his name. The wrestler drew to a stop and turned around, surprise filling him. His eyes slowly began to constrict, his jaw tightening.

Eric Bischoff stepped into the locker room, looking it over with disdain before giving the other man his full attention.

"Didja get lost, Bischoff?" Sting asked with a cold smile, "Or maybe you wanted to hurry up and get the crap kicked out of you right now."

Eric gulped, noticeably nervous. He forced his trepidation down, plastering what vaguely passed for a cocky expression.

"I just wanted to give you one last chance to back out, Stinger." he replied smoothly.

Sting couldn't help but snicker at that. Bischoff was getting desperate.

He took a step towards him, Eric quickly taking a step back.

"Now why would I want to do that?" Sting inquired casually.

"Come off it, Sting." Eric snapped, his temper coming to light, "You might be able to fool those idiots in the Impact Zone with your false bravado but we both know you're worried about Goldberg."

He began to smile, "As you should be. I mean, I know I'd be worried if I had to go up against the guy. Especially considering that you never beaten him."
Sting bowed his head, rubbing his neck, "I have to hand it to you, Bischoff. That was a good move, bringing Bill in. Pretty smart on your part."

He looked back at Eric, his expression fixed, "But what makes you so sure this time it's not going to be different? Like I told Bill at the Impact Zone, I'm not doing this just for me. I'm doing it for Emma and Dixie. For the men and women in the back. I can't lose. I have too much at stake."

As he spoke he began to make his way towards the smaller man. Eric's eyes widened and he began to back up until his back hit the wall and he discovered he had no other place to go. He had no choice but to look up at Sting in fear, terrified at what the other man was going to do to him.

"I'm going to keep coming." he replied, his voice low and even, "Do you finally get it, Bischoff? Goldberg is going to have to put me down for good to stop me. And I know I have to do the same thing to him. I'm ready to go to that place. Is your guy?"

Eric remained silent, studying him. He could tell the man before him was a much different Sting. Even when he had donned the crow face paint and took to the rafters he wasn't as resolved as he was now, standing before him. He knew that the other man meant what he said. Goldberg was going to have to put him down for good to get him to quit. And even then he wondered if that would be enough to stop the Icon.

Eric swallowed, the wheels in his mind turning. He might not be able to shake his confidence in his wrestling ability, but he could get to him another way. If the head and body were unwilling he would just have to go for his heart. And if there was one thing Eric was a hundred percent sure of, it was that the man before him acted with his heart.

"That's all well and good." he replied easily, his megawatt smile once again sliding into place, "For you. But what about sweet little Emma."

Sting's features tensed, his expression becoming fearsome, "If you lay one hand on her you're a dead man."

Eric raised his now trembling hands and laughed weakly, "Who said I was going to do anything to Emma? In fact, last time I checked, I've never laid a hand on her. Or put her in harm's way. You were the one who done that."

Sting turned away, smiling coldly. He turned back to Bischoff with a smirk, "Did you just say you've never put her in harm's way? Or does that python in your office not count?"

"Have you forgotten that the first time she was laid out it was because she was coming to the ring to help you." Eric countered, "Or what about this recent accident-"

"That was no accident." Sting practically snarled, "She was attacked! Because of the animal you brought in here!"

"Be that as it may," Eric went on with a sudden burst of bravery, "She was, again, hurt because of you."

He began to smile slowly, "Let's face it. Any time she's been hurt, either physically or emotionally, it has been because of you. Ya know, I might have gotten her a job here-"

"Against her will." Sting muttered darkly.

Eric chose to ignore that, going on, "And, sure, maybe I took control of her manuscripts. But I wasn't the one who kidnapped her and locked her in a closet. You did that. And I wasn't the one who aired her private business for all the world to see. Again, you did that. I wasn't the one who stole her passwords and got her fired-"

"If you finish that sentence there'll be nothing left of you to run Impact." Sting threatened.

Eric paused, at last worried that he had finally pushed the Insane Icon too far. He glanced away, trying to weight his options.

At last he turned back to the wrestler, his tone quiet, "I may have disrupted her life a little bit, but let's be honest here, Stinger. Which one of us has really caused her more pain?"

Suddenly Sting hauled off and drove his fist into Eric's gut. Eric let out a grunt and instantly fell to his knees. He clutched at his now injured middle, his face red. He coughed, gasping and struggling for air.

Sting leaned over and gripped Eric's hair in his fist, yanking his head up.

"Get out of here." he sneered, shoving the Impact owner away, "Or you're not going to need Goldberg cause there's going to be nothing left of you to run Impact!"

Eric staggered to his feet and, slumping against the wall to hold himself up, began to stagger out of the room.

"You think this is over?!" Bischoff coughed, "Goldberg is going to destroy you, Sting! He's going to destroy you! Impact is mine and Impact's going to stay mine!"

Sting actually let out a growl, advancing on the smaller man. Eric's eyes widened and he hurried off, escaping out of a side door and into the night.

The Insane Icon stared daggered at the closed side door, his chest heaving as he fought to control the rage building up inside him.

He bowed his head and closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down.

Bischoff's words cut deep. Deeper than he had wanted. Deeper than even Bischoff probably knew.

Because he wasn't saying anything that Sting himself hadn't thought over the past two months.

The truth was, he did blame himself of Emma's injuries. He wasn't a fool. He knew that she would have never been hurt if she hadn't tried to come to his aid. Not once but twice. He knew that it was because of him that she had almost lost her manuscripts for good.

The truth was, she probably would have been a lot better off if he hadn't been so selfish and went after her. He should have pushed his feelings aside. Buried them deep down.

She would have been so much better off he had just kept his distance like he had planned to do in the beginning. She wouldn't have gotten so hurt and he could have focused all of his energy on Immortal. Like it should have been from the beginning.

His eyes slide closed as memories began to wash over him.

"I. . ." Emma glanced down at her hands as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say to him.

She finally looked up at him, sincere, "Be careful."

Sting's grin widened as he promised, "Enjoy the show."

He unexpectedly started making his way back to her. Emma looked up at him in worry. But she didn't move. She wast frozen on the spot.

"One more thing." he murmured and suddenly reached behind her.

He took hold of her clip and quickly removed it, letting her hair fall down her back and on her shoulders.

She closed her eyes and sighed in irritation, "I just put my hair back up."

"And I just took it back down." Sting replied, larger-than-life, before handing her the clip, "Ta ta for now."

A flash. And then:

All of a sudden music began to play out over the restaurant. A haunting tune filled with strings, guitar and piano chords. Emma's eyess narrowed in thought as she listened to the tune. Her eyes suddenly lit up as she began to recognize the melody!

"Find me here. And speak to me." the singer's soulful voice washed over the room, "I want to feel you. I need to hear you."

Emma slowly turned to Sting, finding him grinning at her.

"How did you. . .?" her voice trialed off in wonder.

Sting rose from his chair and held out a hand to her, "Wanna dance with a madman?"

Emma smiled and took his hand, allowing him to lead her out to the dance floor. He gave her a little turn before pulling her into his arms, holding her close to him. Emma began to blush as she bowed her head, looking at his chest.

Sting looked down at the top of her head, his smile fading away. In it's place was an expression at once poignant and thoughtful. His arms tightened around her as he pulled her closer.

Another flash:

As he wheeled back around to face her he put his hands on his hips, mainly to keep from reaching out and shaking some sense into her, "After everything that's happened between us you really think I would spend time with you just to try and get something on Bischoff?"

"Then why did you?!" Emma screamed, upset.

He yanked his shades off and she could see his eyes were flashing with fury. It caused her to involuntarily backed up another step.

Sting tossed his shades over his shoulder before suddenly grabbing either side of her face and yanked her to him. He leaned down, swiftly pressing his lips to hers.

And still another:

"No!" Emma snapped, her walls finally coming down, "I fell in love with you and-"

He opened his eyes and leaned against the wall, looking out into nothing. All the anger and pain he had been feeling suddenly slipped away. In it's place came an eerie calm as he realized what he needed to do.

He straightened from off the wall and collected his things. Slinging his bag over his shoulder he turned and made his way over to the showers. He needed to hurry before he lost his nerve.

He just prayed he had the strength to do what needed to be done.