Part 2: I don't understand why the hell they keep playing my new entrance music. Don't they realize that I have a head ache? All of the sudden I remember what happened; I had just gone for the Hell's Fury when something went wrong, and I landed on the mat head first. Well, that would explain the throbbing in my head that makes Devil's Dance sound like a nursery rhyme.

I take a moment to wiggle my fingers and toes- yep still in working order- before trying to open my eyes. I don't have the energy to bite back the groan when I see not only the federation doctor, but half of the roster standing around me.

Adam "Edge" Copeland and Jason "Christian" Reso are standing at the foot of the bed, and right beside them are the Hardys, who have somehow managed to find themselves wrapped around one another. Note to self: must include them in little revealing Truth or Dare game planned for later on this week. Mark, Sean, and Erin are all standing by my right side holding various parts of my hand/wrist. Kurt Angle, Paul, Stephanie McMahon, Shane McMahon, and a few faces I don't recognize are all standing around me like I'm dying or something.

That sure as hell isn't a sensation I want to repeat any time soon.

"Liz, Liz can you hear me?" Dr. Brown asks, shining a light right into my eyes.

"Yes, Doc. I can hear you. I'm just a little woozy not deaf," I growl, sitting up only to have the world start spinning around on me again.

"You might wanna lay back down," Erin tells me, then points out the obvious, "you're as white as a sheet."
I fight the urge to look at her and tell her,"No shit, Sherlock," and just groan and close my eyes.

"You've sustained a minor concussion," Dr. Brown explains before adding the inevitable, "I want to take you to the hospital for observation."

"Dr. Brown, I'm not at the hospital, I'm backstage in the Minneapolis arena," I tell him. "Which means I couldn't have been out more than what five, ten minutes at the most, because more than that and I would be waking up in a hospital instead of an infirmary backstage at RAW."
"That's true, but..."

"Well then, I'm rooming with Erin. She can wake me up every four hours to make sure I'm okay. I'll make sure I don't go in the ring tomorrow and aggravate the condition, and I'll take the next three days off from house shows as well." I tell the doctor, concussions are a part of the business that can't be avoided. Hell, they practically teach a class in wrestling school called Concussion Care 101.

"Well Liz, I'm glad to know my input was valued in this decision. After all(,) it's only MY life being interrupted here," Erin sarcastically remarks, brushing a lock of my hair out of my eyes. I can tell she's teasing, and I really don't have the energy to get her back, so I just lay there and let her dote on me for a moment.

------

"SEAN WALTMAN! Put me DOWN!" I yell, ignoring the fact that I've always wanted to be carried in his arms. "It's not like I can't walk!"

"Right, Liz. I believe you are the same person who couldn't make the fifteen feet from the arena to our car," Sean scolds, ignoring my pleas. I look at Erin and Mark, who just nod in agreement with him, then as a last resort start punching the hell out of his shoulder.

"Put...Me...Down...you...idiot."

"No," is his simple response.
I finally realize I'm going to get nowhere, and just hang on for the ride.

"Erin, door,"he orders when we finally stop in front of our room.

"Yes, Sean Sir! Master Sir!" Erin barks out, with a smart little solute, then steps up to open the door with her copy of the key.

"You know Sean, you could have let me carry her, and saved your neck a lot of strain," Mark points out, holding the door open.
"I've got her," is all Sean says in response. I guess he doesn't wanna ruin his tough-guy image and admit he's weaker than someone.

Erin rushes ahead of him and pulls back the covers on my bed. I try to explain I'm not tired as Sean sits me down, but the look in those brown eyes shuts me up quickly and I find that I'm drifting off to sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

It's funny, I'm dreaming almost as soon as my eyes close, because just before I slip into a deep sleep I feel Sean pressing one of those light, airy kisses to my lips.

All in all, that night was the most restful nights I'd had in weeks...even if Erin was waking me up every four hours asking stupid things like my age, my birthdate, and who the president was. One time she even asked me who Sean Waltman was to me, and I think I said something stupid like, "the one man I'll always want, but never be able to have."

The next few days seem to drag past. I can't wrestle, can't write because I don't have my computer with me, and I can't work out because they're afraid I'm going to drop something on my head. But those days also give me time to plot.

Erin has this wacky idea that Sean is in love with me, and since I've never told her the story from 2000 there's no way I can tell her differently. And I know that Mark is in love with her, it's in his eyes.

You see, most of the time Mark's eyes are green with just a hint of blue and a hint of brown, but when he sees Erin, his whole body softens- including his eyes, which turn baby blue- and he looks at her like she's the most precious thing on earth. Personally, I don't see how she misses it.

So we hatched a plot. First we enlisted the aid of a good friend of both Mark and Sean, Glenn "Kane" Jacobs, and then we made sure that he would have the guys off by themselves at the perfect time.... we're going hunting for information, and we don't care how we find it.

And then after we get the information, we're going to invite them, along with Matt and Jeff Hardy(,) back to our hotel room for a drink and a late-night card game.

What we don't tell them is that we're also planning on playing a game of high-stakes Truth or Dare, and to me the happiness of my best friend is on the line.

When it's time for me to go and play spy, I quietly duck into Paul's flight case and thank god that Triple H's dressing room is right next to the Undertaker's. For some reason, the theme to Mission Impossible kept running through my mind, which was just what I didn't need.

"Hey, Mark!" Glenn calls out. I almost gag at how fake he sounds, but keep that to myself. I really don't wanna get caught.

"Hey Glenn, what are you up to?" Mark asks. I can see the silhouette of him taping up his wrists through a crack in the case I'm using for oxygen.

"Nothing much, just getting ready for tonight's show. I thought I'd come by and check up on you," Glen hedges. "You know see how you're doing since the big break-up."

"What? The break up of The New Outsiders?" Mark asks.

I guess Glenn nods, because I can't see up that high and he's not talking.

"I knew it was coming months before it happened."

"What about the break up with Liz?" Glenn asks, all mock sincerity.

"What about it, yet another thing I knew was coming. They thought Fury would be better as a heel with X-Pac and I agree," Mark tells him.

"Oh so you, like working with Erin?" Glen prods. I have to bite back the laughter in my voice at all of the emphasis Glenn is putting on the word "like."

"Like working with her? I love working with her. She's smart, she's athletic, and she has the character for a long term face team, which is what they are trying to bill us as," Mark explains. "And while I loved working with Liz, I know that knee of hers isn't going to last too much longer, and while X-Pac can get away with a manager who's not active in his matches, The Undertaker can't."
I have to count to ten to keep the hurt from welling up inside of me; sometimes when you listen in on people's conversations you get to hear the unpleasant stuff too. The truth hurts, and while Mark's a tell-it-like-it-is guy, he's never been quite this blunt about my knee before.

"So you think Erin's good for your career, and not your life? I mean I guess considering what you're going through with Sara right now, you wouldn't want to get right back into a relationship," Glenn goads. He's trying his best to get Mark to talk on a personal level. I sigh for a moment.

"Maybe I should have sent Stephanie in there, she'd just talk it right out of him," I whisper to myself. "Never send a man to do a woman's job."

"See, that's the thing. I'm starting to see this kid on more then a professional level, and that's poison for her. She doesn't need to hook up with a broken down old man like me... not that she'd want to anyway," Mark finally spills.

I silently let out the mental breath I've been holding since I wedged myself into this damn case. So he thought she wouldn't want a broken down old man like him...hmm... we'll just have to let him know otherwise.

I hang around in the case for what seems like forever, waiting for Mark and Glen to walk away. They talk a little more about work and about the storylines for the next few shows, then exit the dressing area together. As I am tumbling out of the case, I all of a sudden find myself nose to boot with..

"Would you mind telling me what you're doing in my flight case?" Triple H asks, barely able to keep the laughter out of his voice.

TBC....