It had taken much more rest and physical therapy than Erin would have liked, but she arrived in Chicago as ready as she could hope to be. She and John had arrived two days early to train together, but John wisely left her alone for her usual fight-day rituals. She arrived at the stadium extra- early, heading for her locker room but running into Triple H first.

"Hey, Erin!" he called. Erin smiled up at him. "Feeling ready?"

"Mostly, I guess," she shrugged. He fell into step beside her as they continued to walk.

"So this is really your first Hell in a Cell match, isn't it?" Hunter remarked.

"My first intentional one," Erin clarified, laughing slightly. "Any advice, oh Wise Jedi Master?"

"On how to win, or how to survive?" Hunter asked, in all seriousness.

"Hey, if I could survive that beatdown I got from Randy, I can survive Hell in a Cell," Erin replied, her smile fading from her face. "I promise I'm serious, Hunter. I wouldn't joke around when John's in as much danger of injury as I am."

"I know you'll be as safe as you can, considering," Hunter agreed. "Avoid the walls. They're what get you the worst. If the door opens, do everything you can to keep the match from going to the roof. If you break your neck falling from there, I'm going to smack you upside the head as soon as you're healed. You know that Miz and Jack are perfectly willing to do anything underhanded to get the win, so stay sharp. And be ready to hit your aerial moves from anywhere, because you'll need to."

"Anything else?" Erin asked quietly, seriously.

"Just be on top of your game," Hunter reminded her, wrapping a casual arm around her shoulders. "And get your boy to give you a rubdown before you guys go out. You get a better warmup from it than you would if you got it from a trainer. I know it's way better for me when Steph does mine. Gets me all hot and—"

"I do not need to hear about anything you and Steph may or may not do together," Erin said, clapping her hands over her ears. Hunter laughed, grinning down at her. "You're disgusting, you know that?"

"And I'm not in the least bit sorry," Hunter said unrepentantly. Erin smacked his arm.

"You're a prat," she grumbled. "And that's a brilliant idea that I will immediately suggest to John. Bye!"

Hunter nearly fell over from laughing so hard.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're coming to you live from the Windy City," Jerry announced. "We've seen some amazing matches tonight, but it's time for our main event!"

"The question now, really, is if Erin Harris is anywhere near a hundred percent for this match," Michael Cole remarked.

"I was asking just the same question, Mike," Jerry agreed. "Actually, Justin Roberts is backstage now in the athletic training room, waiting to talk to Erin's physical therapist, Dr. Abraham Olkowski . Justin?"

"Thanks, Jerry," Justin said, appearing on the giant screen above the ramp. "I'm here with Dr. Abraham Olkowski, who's been working with Erin ever since the infamous Hell in a Cell match between Randy Orton and John Cena. Dr. Olkowski, what can you tell us about Erin's condition?"

"Well, Erin somehow avoided any kind of cervical fracture, which was nothing short of miraculous," Abe began. "But she did violently separate the C3 and C4 vertebrae in her neck, and that resulted in a weakened vertebral column in that area as well as several pulled and strained muscles. She was in what we call a hard brace for a week, and she began training again this week in a soft brace, or foam cast. She's been cleared to wrestle, but only just. We told her no overhead presses and nothing aerial."

"What's the likelihood of Erin following that advice?" Justin asked, curious.

"Slim to none," Abe admitted, resigned. "However, she risks cervical fracture, spinal cord dislocation, even permanent paralysis if she competes tonight in this state."

"Thank you, Dr. Olkowski," Justin said, subdued. "Guys, back to you." Jerry and Michael both looked horror-struck, and Jerry shook his head.

"It sounds like Erin shouldn't even be competing tonight," Jerry commented, worried.

"And when have I ever listened to anyone who tells me what I shouldn't do?" Erin asked, appearing at the top of the ramp, arms crossed, microphone in hand. She still wore her soft brace, but she was in ring gear and looked ready to go. "In fact, I seem to have missed the day in school where they taught that skill, because I am fully prepared to not only compete tonight but win. Jack Swagger's attack shows only that he's scared to face me. And that—that honestly puts a bit of a smile on my face." She made her way down to the ring slowly, rolling out her neck slightly within the confines of her brace. She ran a casual hand over the metal of the cage, ducking inside easily. "So if you guys don't mind, I'd like to get this match started. Do you think I could give an introduction to my tag team partner?" The crowd roared, and Erin grinned.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to give an introduction to the man who needs no introduction," Erin began. The crowd roared in approval, and Erin waited until they quieted to go on. "He's the world's toughest chain-gang soldier, and a hero with a heart of gold. He's never said 'I Quit' and he never will. He's not invincible, but he fights like he is; he's a warrior through and through. He's the knight in dirty, beat-up armor—ladies and gentlemen, the WWE Champion is here: John Cena!"

John came down the ramp to thunderous applause, and Erin joined in with a wolf-whistle of her own. He jumped into the ring, pulling Erin in and kissing her soundly. Erin blushed, hiding a smile. "So after an introduction like that, I really can't compete, but I should at least try, right?" John said, and the crowd cheered. He grinned. "Alright, let me give it a shot." Erin looked at him expectantly, half-smiling.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a girl who's stronger than Superman and smaller than Mighty Mouse!" he began, and Erin laughed. John winked at her. "Navy SEALs got nothing on her toughness and no daredevil comes near her level of reckless; she's bigger than her body gives her credit for; she never backs down, never says "can't", and never lets injustice go unpunished. So don't tread on her, 'cause she's the gorgeous G.I. Jane, the World Heavyweight Champion Erin Harris!"

"So are you trying to introduce the next contenders as well?" Matt Striker asked, watching her.

"Do I get to insult them?" Erin asked cheekily.

"Probably not," Matt said honestly. Erin shrugged.

"Well, they're all yours then," she replied. She turned her back to the ramp, stripping off her t-shirt and tossing it into the crowd. Off came her dog tags, and she handed them to the ring attendant.

"Introducing the challengers: the team of Jack Swagger and the Miz!" Matt Striker announced.

As they came down to the ring, he went on, "This match will be a double championship defense match. Should either champion be pinned or submit, their title will go to the challenger who pins them and their partner's title will go to the other challenger."

"Mike, is it just me, or do the odds seem to be stacked against John and Erin?" Jerry commented. Erin looked over, nodding her head theatrically. Jerry laughed in spite of himself, and Erin grinned. "And it looks like Erin and Jack will be the first to face off."

With an ominous clank, the door of the cage was padlocked shut, and Erin vaulted into the ring, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waited for the bell to ring. When it did, she struck first, spearing Jack before he could move. She sat on his chest, keeping him pinned down as she drove blow after blow into his head, releasing weeks of pent-up anger. She rolled off of him at the referee's command, bouncing on the balls of her feet as he rose slowly. He lunged at her, but Erin ducked under his swing, slamming a kick into his hamstring. He managed to catch her leg as she pulled back, throwing her off-balance long enough that he could Irish whip her into the corner. Erin bit back a gasp of pain as her neck hit the corner post, and Jack hit her with a running knee lift that sent her to the mats.

She brought her legs up as he charged, driving both feet into his chest and sending him crashing over the ropes and into the wall of the steel cage. The crowd cheered as Erin made it back to her feet, vaulting over the ropes and hitting a Whisper in the Winds off the steel cage. Jack hit the ground hard, and Erin used the cage itself, climbing up and perching, Spiderman-like, in the corner, waiting for him to rise. When he did, she launched herself at him, going for a modified G.I. Jane. The height of her jump worked against her, though, and he was able to move out of the way. She hit the steel cage hard, feeling the impact in every inch of her body, and Jack rolled her into the ring.

When he lunged for the pin, though, she swept her leg up and around, nailing him in the temple and sending him staggering away. He fell back into his corner, and Mike tagged himself in on Jack's back. Erin was ready for him as he came through the ropes, grabbing his wrist to flip him over one hip. She followed it up with a 180o spun flare that she turned into a leg drop across his ribcage. As successful as it was, the landing still jarred her neck. Mike made it back to his feet, standing between her and her corner, and she feinted left, drawing him in. As he lunged at her, she took a running start and flipped over him, tagging John in.

"There's the tag, and the Champ is here!" Jerry announced. Erin couldn't help but smile, watching as John nailed Mike with a running clothesline, then another. His running bulldog was so forceful that Mike was sent flying across the ring. He scrabbled frantically, trying to tag Jack in, but John grabbed his ankle, dragging him back and into the STF. Jack reached through the ropes, grabbing Mike's leg to pull him towards the ropes.

"Oh hell, no," Erin growled, flying across the ring and grabbing the second and third ropes, swinging between them to drive her feet into Jack's shoulder, sending him crashing into the steel cage. She bounced onto the top rope, hitting him with an elevated standing moonsault for good measure before returning to her corner at the referee's command. Jack rose slowly but steadily, and his battle-weary tag-team partner tagged him in. John didn't wait for Jack to enter the ring, nailing him with a dropkick that sent him back into the steel cage wall once more.

"And that interference by Jack Swagger thwarted by John's partner—partner in more than one sense of the word," Michael remarked. "Jerry, she may not be a Diva, but I think we'd all agree that she's still smart, sexy, and powerful." Jerry glanced over at his fellow commentator, the expression on his face somewhere between amusement and chagrin.

"Could you talk about the damn match, please?" Erin called, keeping her eyes on John as he hauled Jack into a vertical suplex, dropping him into the center of the ring.

"And that's why she's my favorite," Jerry said promptly. John waved his hand in front of his face, as the crowd bellowed "You can't see me!" along with him. "There's Cena with the Five-Knuckle Shuffle—and he nails it!" John glanced back at Erin, who was bouncing eagerly in the corner, and smiled. He tagged her in quickly, and Erin vaulted into the ring, standing over Jack's prone form and going for a standing shooting star press. Jack rolled out of the way, but she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye, landing on her forearms. She was caught by surprise as Jack dropped onto her back, pinning her down as he locked his hands under her chin and pulled back with all his strength.

"And it looks like Swagger is going for an inverted facelock—Mike, I don't think Erin's neck can handle that kind of stress!" Jerry commented. Erin was shaking with effort it took not to cry out in pain, straining with every bit of strength to break free. John waved the crowd to their feet, watching Erin with worry in his eyes.

"Tap out," Jack hissed, just loud enough for her to hear. Erin shook her head stubbornly, and he hauled back even harder. She screamed as her head was wrenched back, pain radiating down her spine. She scrabbled at Jack's arm, but he didn't budge. After what felt like an eternity, he released the hold, throwing her into the ropes. She bounced off limply and hit the mats hard, multicolored spots exploding in front of her eyes from the pain.

"Get to the ropes!" John bellowed. Erin heard him only dimly, and managed to grab the ropes with one hand and drag herself into the corner, hauling herself to her feet. Her neck was screaming in pain, but she had enough presence of mind to slip between the ropes and out of the ring, sending Jack crashing into the corner. She slammed a kick into his temple, still clutching her neck, and grabbed the top rope to flip him out of the ring. When he staggered to his feet, she nailed him with a roundhouse kick that slammed him into the unforgiving steel of the cage. She elbow-dropped him for good measure, going for the pin, but Jack kicked out at two and a half. Erin crawled away frantically as he rose, reaching out as far as she could for John's outstretched hand. Jack caught her ankle, hauling her off the ground with the force of his ankle lock. Erin twisted in his grip, managing to drive her other heel into his jaw. He dropped her immediately, and she rolled away, still clutching her neck. John reached out for her, tagging himself in on her shoulder as she fell towards him. He blasted into action, hitting Jack with a flying shoulder block that slammed him into the steel floor. When Jack finally made it to his feet, John hauled him into the Attitude Adjustment.

"AA! AA!" Michael Cole shouted. Even in her pain, Erin rolled her eyes. John threw Jack up and over the ropes, sliding back into the ring. He stood tall, turning to salute Erin before playing it up for the crowd.

"You can't see me!" they chanted along with him, as John landed the five-knuckle shuffle once more, dropping and locking in the STF. Predictably, Miz rushed into the ring, but Erin cut him off, mustering enough strength to spear him into the ropes as John turned the weary Jack Swagger onto his back for the pin.

"One, two, three—ring that bell!" the referee ordered.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your winners—and still WWE and World Heavyweight Champion, respectively—John Cena and Erin Harris!" Justin announced. Erin ducked into the ring, making her way over to John slowly. The referee raised her arm far more carefully and far less energetically than he did John's, and she still held onto her neck with her free hand.

"Need to see the doctors?" John asked quietly.

"I'm running on an adrenaline high right now, but I'll need them as soon as we're backstage," Erin admitted, accepting her title belt from the ring attendant. "But as for right now—" She grabbed a microphone, looking straight at Jack. "I told you not to tread on me, Swagger." John laughed, wrapping a protective arm around her waist as the referees unlocked the door, helping her out of the cage and up the ramp.

By the time they reached the locker room, John was supporting almost all of Erin's bodyweight.

"My locker room—I need my hard brace," she managed, stopping to hold her neck. "John, I can't walk any further without it." John hastily sat her down against the wall, pushing through several crew members to reach her locker room, digging through her bag and emerging with the hard brace and her Vicodin. Erin had managed to unstrap her soft brace and held her neck still with just her bare hands, but John quickly strapped her hard brace into place, popping open her water bottle and handing over her pill. Erin collapsed against the wall, holding her breath for a moment until her head cleared. "Alright. I think I can move now. Let's go see Dr. Porcelan and Abe." John helped her up wordlessly, and Erin clutched his arm tightly despite the brace and the Vicodin as they made their way down the hall.

"We've got you a table set up already—we've been expecting you," Abe called, and Erin managed a small smile. "I'm not even going to bother lecturing you, because you won't feel guilty and you're probably in enough pain anyway."

"Yup," Erin said unrepentantly, sliding onto the table with a groan.

"You already took Vicodin?" Abe asked, and she nodded. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit," Erin said shortly. "Abe, John pretty much had to carry me back here. I couldn't walk without it hurting."

"Well, no matter what I find, you're taking at least two weeks off. A month, if I can convince Steph," Abe informed her. "So I hear you're off the wagon—as far as straight-edge goes, I mean." Erin looked down, shaking her head.

"I guess I'm not as indestructible as I thought I was," she said quietly. "I just—I wanted to be strong enough to not have to take them."

"Sunshine, if you'd hit your neck much harder, you would have been internally decapitated. And yes, that's a medical term," Abe told her sternly. "If you hadn't agreed to, I would have force-fed you that Vicodin."

"Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it," Erin told him stubbornly. John bent to kiss her temple, shaking his head as he stood up.

"Not in the least, love," he promised her. "Not in the least."


A/N: Here's your next one! Read and review, as ever (though clearly, I have no right to demand such courtesy from y'all, considering how long I took to update. Thus the lack of my typical "read and review" request at the end of last chapter.)

Some quick housekeeping:

1. No, I won't be catching up to current Raw/Smackdown, I'm sticking with the semi-alternative timeline I've got going because I'm just too far behind the current stuff at this point. Also, I like being able to make the rules and not have to react to what's going on in the real WWE. lol.

2. At some point, Nexus will pop up. But not the original Nexus, something more similar to New Nexus. Except since it's the only version of the Nexus I have, I won't actually be called "New Nexus". Hope that's not too confusing!