Chapter 51: Crashing SmackDown
Batista paced across the hospital waiting room, hands clasped behind his head. The past few hours had been a blur, and he was only now starting to take notice of his surroundings. When the ambulance had arrived and the paramedics had loaded the stretcher containing the unconscious form of Elektra into the back, Batista had climbed in with them, mindless of the fact that he was still clad in his wrestling gear. The first paramedic to suggest that he might be more comfortable if he changed and followed behind in his car was met with a wordless glare. It may have been a tight fit in the back of the ambulance, but the Animal was not going to leave Elektra's side for even a second.
When they arrived at the hospital, Batista was forced to stay behind in the waiting room while they wheeled Elektra into the treatment area. He had caught one final glimpse of her beautiful wan face before the double doors swung shut, severing her from his view. Flair had arrived ten minutes later with a change of clothes and a sandwich. The Animal had taken the clothes, but disregarded the sandwich. Right now, food was the last thing on his mind.
The Nature Boy was sitting in one of the waiting area chairs a few feet away. He appeared to be reading a magazine, but judging by the fact that he hadn't turned a page in the past twenty minutes, he was just as worried about Elektra as Batista was. They weren't the only ones; Trish Stratus was sitting on the other side of the room, a zip-up sweatshirt thrown on over her wrestling attire. She was staring at her hands, which she kept wringing together in her lap. Next to her was Chris Jericho, who had his arm wrapped protectively around the shaking shoulders of the Women's Champion.
Triple H, for once, was absent. Whether he knew he wasn't welcome or whether he just didn't care--either way, his presence was not missed.
All of them were sharing the same barrage of wild thoughts and emotions, but none felt them more keenly than the Animal. To Batista, this was just like another Monday night, a cool one in Austin, Texas, where he had stood in the ring, staring speechlessly down at the senseless form of the woman he loved. Just like then, Elektra had fallen victim to a champion looking to exert power. And just like then, Batista had been unable to save her.
Okay, maybe he hadn't tiger-bombed her this time around, but he had still watched, helpless, as that limousine slammed into her, hurling her across the parking lot. The Animal wondered vaguely when it would be his turn to put his body on the line for her, to protect her as he had swore he'd always do. Common sense told him that he should be thankful for escaping without even a scraped limb. Like every other Superstar, his physical health was his livelihood—but at what price?
What could the main event at Wrestlemania possibly be worth if it meant sacrificing Elektra in the process?
There was a soft creak of hinges as one of the double doors swung open, and the emergency room physician—who looked like he was still in high school—stepped out. The three Superstars and one Diva all snapped to attention, rising to their feet in anticipation. The doctor swept his gaze over all of them, his eyes lingering perhaps a little bit longer on Trish (but really, who could blame him?) before falling back down to his clipboard. "Which one of you is Dave?" he asked.
Batista quickly stepped forward, taking care not to knock over the physician in his eagerness for news on Elektra. "Right here."
The doctor looked up again, registering the Animal's size and build for the first time. "Holy crap, she wasn't kidding," he remarked with only a hint of surprise. He tucked the clipboard under his arm. "She's been asking for you. Follow me." The physician turned to go.
"What about the rest of us?" Trish's voice was the complete opposite of what it was in the ring: quiet, but filled with worry and concern. She moved toward the doctor, crossing both arms over her chest. "Do we get to see her?"
Whether it was the emotion in her voice or just the fact that Trish was one of the most beautiful women in the world; either way, the physician's face relaxed. "Let's see how she deals with one visit. If it doesn't tire her out, I won't object it, as long as you do it one at a time and keep it to five minutes. Okay?"
Trish didn't answer; just nodded. She stepped back to stand next to Jericho, who put his arm around her shoulders again.
The doctor looked at Batista again. "This way." Turning around, he pushed open the double doors and stepped through, the Animal following him. The physician waited for him to catch up, then extended his hand. "I'm Dr. Kline, by the way. I'm the physician on duty."
Batista shook his hand distractedly. "How is she, Doc?" he asked.
The urgency in his voice must have been evident, because Dr. Kline didn't waste any more time on pleasantries. The doctor took a deep breath. "Okay, here goes." He began ticking items off on his fingers. "The majority of her injuries were sustained on the left side of her body; I understand that's where the vehicle struck her. Her left leg is broken in two places. Ligament damage in her left knee. Dislocated shoulder. Severely sprained wrist. Three cracked ribs; two on the left, one on the right. A moderate concussion. Add to that some mild abrasions and bruises and you've got yourself one lucky young lady."
The Anima's head was spinning from the laundry list of injuries he had just been given. For a few moments, he couldn't speak. All he could see was Elektra lying on the pavement, her silver eyes rolling back into her head as she lapsed into unconsciousness, the screech of tires fading into the distance. After what felt like an eternity, he finally found his voice. "Lucky?" he managed to say. "Tell me what's so lucky about a broken leg and cracked ribs." He realized he was dangerously close to shouting and lowered his tone. "She could have been killed."
"That's exactly my point," Dr. Kline's voice was soft, but incredibly sure of itself. "She could have been killed. People involved in collisions like that have been killed. If the impact with the vehicle doesn't do the job, the impact with the ground does. But with the exception of the concession, your girlfriend doesn't seem to have sustained any major injuries to her head, neck or spine. We did a CAT-scan, MRI—everything looks clear. We're checking for any internal injuries, but that looks like another big no. In short, Elektra is damn lucky to be alive."
As he spoke, the doctor began walking again, halting outside a recovery room when he came to the end of his speech. The door to the room was closed. Dr. Kline glanced at it, then back at the Animal. "Ideally, I'd like her to stay here a day or two, just so we can properly treat all of her known injuries and catch any that we don't know about yet. However, ever since she regained consciousness, she's been telling me that that's not an option." He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you can convince her."
Batista must have made a face at this suggestion because the doctor burst out laughing. "My wife's the same way," he admitted. "Good luck." With that as conclusion, he turned the handle on the door and motioned the Animal into the room, closing it quietly behind him to give him and Elektra privacy.
Batista didn't even register the sound of the tumbler clicking into place. The moment he stepped over the threshold, all of his focus had been drawn to the figure lying on the hospital bed.
Elektra's complexion was ashen, and there were lavender-colored circles under her closed eyes. Her dark hair, so carefully coiffed at the arena, was now spread out loose across the pillow. There was a sheet draped over the right half of her body, leaving the bulky black cast on her left leg, and the smaller one on her left wrist, in full display. Just seeing her lying there like that made Batista feel more helpless than he ever had in his life, and he couldn't stop tears from stinging his eyes. "I did this," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I brought you into this." Moving to her side, he knelt down and took her uninjured hand in both of his, bringing it to his lips. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, tears now sliding down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry…"
On the bed, Elektra stirred. "Dave?" Her voice was weak, almost a whisper.
The Animal practically sprang to his feet, just in time to see her open her eyes, those beautiful pale eyes that lit up the moment they saw him. He tried to speak, and found that he couldn't; his throat was too choked with emotion. Instead, he bent down and gently kissed her forehead, then her lips. He pulled back a little, gazing at the contours of cheekbone and chin that he knew so well. "Hey, baby," he murmured tenderly.
"Hey," Elektra replied, her mouth curving into a subdued version of her usual radiant smile. For a moment, they remained like that, drinking in the nearness of each other. Finally, Batista pulled back and moved away, but only so he could grab a nearby chair and drag it next to the bed. He sat down, taking her hand in his once again.
"So," he eventually said, gently entwining his fingers through hers. "I know that I'm going to sound like the biggest asshole for asking, but…how do you feel?"
Elektra let loose a soft burst of laughter, which quickly died as her face creased in a grimace of pain. "Well…as you can see, it hurts to breathe, I can't feel my leg or my arm, and my head is killing me. The good news is they just gave me a shot of pain meds. The bad news is that I'm probably going to get loopy in a few minutes, so I better make this quick." Her ghost of a smile disappeared. "Dave, I'm so sorry. What I put you through—"
Batista reached over and pressed his fingers to her lips. "Shhh…" he interjected soothingly. "Don't talk, just rest, okay?"
"No!" With some effort, Elektra pushed his hand away. Batista sat back, stunned by the intensity burning in her eyes. More than just intensity—there was fear. Fear of the accident…or of something else? The Animal quickly gave himself a mental kick. Elektra had just been hit by a limousine, for God's sakes; had probably seen her goddamn life pass before her eyes. She had every right to be terrified.
Her gray, fear-filled irises bored into his. "You don't understand; this is my fault! If I had just listened to you—"
"If you had listened to me," Batista interrupted, his tone bordering on harsh. "I would be the one lying in a hospital bed tonight." His features softened. "You saved my life—don't you get that? You saved my life." He moved closer, reaching out to take her hand a third time. "I just wish that it didn't have to happen this way."
"But—" Elektra started to say.
"No buts," the Animal interjected firmly. "As far as I'm concerned, there's only one person at fault here." His expression darkened. "And that's JBL." He paused, reaching over to brush some hair from Elektra's forehead with his free hand. "And tomorrow night, I'm gonna go to his show…and I'm gonna hurt him." He pressed her hand to his lips. "I'm gonna make him pay for what he did to you."
Elektra didn't answer, and when Batista looked up, he saw that her eyes had closed. His mouth curled into a smile. Guess the pain meds had finally kicked in. Rather than disturb her, he stood and laid one final kiss on her forehead. Letting go off her hand reluctantly, he moved toward the door. After one more longing look, he turned the handle and stepped out into the hall.
As soon as the door closed, Elektra opened her eyes. Batista had been half-right: the pain meds were kicking in, but she was a ways from sleep. Instead, her mind, teetering on the edges of logical thought, played over Batista's promise to her.
I'm gonna make him pay for what he did to you…
They were words that she had heard from the Animal before—only then, he had been referring to Triple H.
As she drifted off into a dreamlike state between sleep and awake, Elektra wondered if her intervention had created the catalyst for Batista she had been dreading.
Upon coaxing from the Animal, Elektra remained in the hospital for another day. During that time, Batista did indeed go to SmackDown, and as he had promised, he did cause JBL some pain. Upon arrival at the arena in Cleveland, where the taping was taking place, the Animal's first order of business had been to attack the vehicle responsible for so much suffering—JBL's limousine. He had accomplished this with an aluminum bat to all ten of the limo's windows. He had then run out to the SmackDown ring to confront the man himself, but unfortunately, the WWE Champion was able to slither out of harm's way, leaving his Cabinet behind to deal with the raging Batista. The Animal made short work of Orlando Jordan and the Bashams, but could only glare at the huge Texan as he fled toward the back.
Elektra heard all this after she finally emerged from her semiconscious haze brought on by the pain medication. And while Batista couldn't hold back the triumph in his voice as he recounted his destruction of JBL's personal property, he also couldn't disguise his dissatisfaction, his disappointment that he hadn't made the WWE Champion truly pay for his actions on Monday night.
"He says he didn't have anything to do with the accident," he told Elektra with evident disgust. "But trust me, baby, the guy's a liar." That was why, he added, he was going to be there at No Way Out on Sunday. One way or another, he was going to make his presence felt on the Thursday night franchise.
Elektra didn't say very much at that. Perhaps the one good thing about being injured was that you weren't expected to say very much. But deep inside her brain, where even Batista could not penetrate, she was screaming. Screaming because the Animal was targeting the wrong Champion. Screaming because she couldn't say or do anything to stop it.
Screaming because a month ago, she hadn't looked Batista in the eye and said "Triple H paid Randy Orton to hurt you."
What made it even harder to bear was that when he wasn't talking about punishing the WWE Champion, Batista was nothing short of the perfect boyfriend. When Elektra was released from the hospital on Wednesday afternoon, Batista accompanied her back to her home in Maryland. The gray-eyed Diva protested at first, but in the end, was glad that he did. Until her wrist and shoulder healed, she was confined to a wheelchair, since she couldn't support herself on crutches. And no matter how many times the Animal had to carry her or the chair up steps, he never complained; only made the occasional joke about how heavy she was getting.
Those two days together were filled with such sweetness that Elektra genuinely wished that Friday would never roll around. Unfortunately, it did, and she found herself boarding an early morning flight with Batista to Michigan. After being involved in such a horrific accident, no one would have judged Elektra harshly if she had chosen to stay home that week. After all, with a broken leg and multiple other injuries, there was no way she could even be at ringside, let alone wrestle. But Elektra had been wrestling for so long that skipping was not an option, even if the extent of her involvement would be to sit backstage in front of a monitor all night. Besides, as she told Batista on Thursday morning while he was brushing his teeth, she was coming with him to No Way Out.
The Animal spat the mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, and walked out into the bedroom to stare at her slack-jawed. "You're not serious—" he began.
Elektra had been lying down, but when Batista spoke, she pushed herself up to a sitting position with her good arm. "Dave," she interjected in a quiet voice, her silver gaze unwavering. "I'm coming with you." The undercurrent in her voice left no room for negotiation.
Now, three days later, at the Mellon Arena, reclining in a private room requisitioned by Theodore Long, the gray-eyed Diva wondered exactly why she was here. She supposed that yes, a small part of her did want to see John Bradshaw Layfield pay. But it was only a tiny part, and try as she might, she couldn't muster up any real feelings of hatred for the WWE Champion. She disliked him, that was true, but JBL had never terrorized her the way Triple H had.
Whenever she thought of Bradshaw, all she saw was a SmackDown contract with Batista's signature adorning the bottom. That scared her more than the memory of those headlights bearing down on her.
Elektra sighed, leaning her head back against the padded armrest of the couch. The room was tastefully decorated; a small table in the corner holding bottled water and snacks, and a television monitor turned to the pay-per-view. When they had arrived, Batista had wheeled her in, moved her to the sofa, checked to make sure she had everything she could possibly need within easy reach, and then disappeared to some other part of the arena to bide his time and wait for the ideal moment to exact his revenge. Unfortunately, this meant leaving Elektra alone with her thoughts, which was the last thing she wanted at this particular point in time.
There was a knock at the door. The silver-eyed Diva looked toward it with some surprise. "Come in," she called.
The door opened and John Cena stuck his head in. His face lit up in a grin when he saw her. "Score! Right place!" He pushed the door open wider and stepped into the room. Elektra immediately noticed the stuffed bear nestled in his massive arms. A string tied to the bear's paw led up to a large silver balloon bouncing against the ceiling with the words "GET WELL SOON" written on it.
Cena noticed the line of her gaze and looked down. "As you probably guessed, this is for you." He walked over and bent down to hand the bear to her. "Me and a couple of the other guys chipped in. Just a way of letting you know that we're not all bad here on SmackDown." He paused. "Since, from the way things seem to be going, your boyfriend is headed here real soon."
Elektra's features, which had relaxed into a smile at the sight of the gift, crumpled with misery when Cena uttered those words. It was as though the Doctor of Thuganomics had just fired a bullet into her heart. Raising both hands to her face, she burst into tears.
Cena's cocky grin instantly vanished, replaced by a look of worry. "Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry! I was just kidding! I didn't mean—" He broke off and knelt down beside her, reaching over to gently touch the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," he said again. Elektra didn't respond, just continued to sob. Cena touched her hand again. "Look, whatever bothering you, it's gonna be all right—"
"No, it isn't!" Elektra brought down her hands with such ferocity that she accidently smacked Cena's. The United States Champion brought his hands down, but didn't say anything. He was still a little stunned by the force of emotion that was pouring out of the gray-eyed Diva. Elektra continued. "It's not all right! It'll never be all right! Everything in my life is falling apart, and it's all my fault—"
"What, you mean it's your fault that JBL mistook you for a speed bump?" Cena interrupted, but Elektra didn't seem to hear. She gestured wildly with her uninjured hand.
"He's here tonight because of me. He's going to war tonight because of me." She stopped and looked at Cena. "And I can't even tell him. I can't even tell him the truth—"
"Then tell me!" the Doctor of Thuganomics interjected before he could stop himself. "Tell me before you go beating yourself up any more than you already have." He paused and lowered his voice. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. It's none of my business. But it doesn't take a genius to see that something's eating away at you, and it's going to kill you if you don't say anything." Impulsively, he touched her shoulder. "You can trust me." he finished.
Elektra looked at him, at those blue eyes full of concern and openness, and the next thing she knew, she was telling Cena everything. Everything. Meeting Triple H. Falling in love with Batista. Her eviction from Evolution. Her constant struggle to stay one mental step ahead of the Cerebral Assassin. And finally, her unholy deal with the one man she truly despised, all for the sake of Batista.
"…If he goes to SmackDown, it'll be because I never said anything," she said in conclusion. "But if I tell him…he'll never forgive me…and that'll be even worse than him leaving." She looked over at Cena, reading the expression on his face. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that because he power-bombed me once, he can hurt me again. Listen to me," With some effort, she pulled herself up to a sitting position. She fixed her gaze on Cena. "Dave has never hit me. Not once, not ever. He was the one person who was there for me when no one cared. He is the one good thing in my life. I know that you can only think of the violence, but you have to understand that he is a much better person than you are willing to give him credit for."
Cena was silent for a few seconds, and when he spoke again, his words were few. "Then tell him the truth."
Elektra blinked. "But I can't! He'll—"
"If he loves you as much as you say he does, he'll forgive you." the United States Champion interrupted. "He'll be angry at first, but he'll forgive you." He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. "Either way, the truth has got to be better than the guilt."
Elektra stared back at him for a long moment. Finally, she nodded. "You're right," She started to add something, but instead merely repeated her previous statement. "You're right."
Cena smiled, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Just remember, you've always got a friend for you here on SmackDown."
Batista didn't express his exhilaration in words, but Elektra could feel it emanating off of him like heat. When they were safely in the hotel room, and he had carefully lifted her from the wheelchair onto the bed, he sat down next to her. Taking her face in both of his hands, he kissed her, a long passionate kiss that swept the air from her lungs. When they finally broke apart for air, he embraced her gently, holding her against his chest. "It's over, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with undisguised pleasure. "Between what Big Show did to JBL inside that steel cage and what me and Cena did to him outside the cage, it'll be a while before he'll be bothering anybody." His tone grew sober. "He'll never hurt you again."
"Hmm..." Elektra murmured. Her stomach was twisting itself into knots, dreading the anticipation of this moment as much as the moment itself.
Batista frowned, looking down at her. "Elektra? Are you all right? You've been preoccupied ever since we left the arena."
Elektra sighed. It was now or never, and it had to be now, because she couldn't live anymore with never. Reluctantly, she pulled herself from the Animal's embrace, staring into his face with pale eyes full of nervousness and sorrow. "Dave," she said slowly, her voice a hair above a whisper. "There's something I have to tell you..."
