Hello to all. Thanks so much for the reviews!!! I like reviews . . . they help me decide what to do with these characters that really aren't mine. Much thanks to Lisa, Leap of Fate, and everyone else for the cool reviews, and for sticking with me. Now to questions and comments:
Huntress: Taker/Steph??? . . . interesting. I haven't read any of those in soooo long!!! Anybody feel like writing a Taker/Steph, so I can get my fix???
Kat: Ooh!! I made you write a fic??? I feel spedecial!!!!!
Damian: Hog-tie?????? I must say . . . that was something I didn't even think of, what's gonna happen when Austin gets his hands on Hunter. Ooh . . . thanks for the idea!!!
Eliseth: Thank you thank you *bows* And of course, Edge rules!!!!
DCFanatic: Your patient waiting has paid off . . . here's Jericho!!!!!!
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Just when I'd stopped opening doors
Finally realizing the one I wanted was yours
Making my entrance again with my usual flair
Sure of my lines . . . was somebody there?
Chris Jericho limped out of the MRI room, cursing under his breath. Trust that Olympic Jackass to actually sprain Chris's ankle . . . two more seconds, and it would have been "buh-bye ankle". The incompetents that the WWF called medics had said it was "nothing to worry about". Chris had felt otherwise. So he'd driven to Mercy Medical Center and gotten it checked out. He checked his watch, noticing it was well past two. If he wanted to get back to the hotel and get any sleep at all, he'd have to leave now. If the damned MRI hadn't taken so long to get done, he would've been in bed by now. He continued down the hall, limping past the private rooms in the pre and post natal section, wondering if he was too tired to drive himself to the hotel. He did feel extraordinarily tired . . .
As he passed the rooms, a small voice from the interior of one caught his attention.
"No . . . please . . . please stop!! No!!! Hunter please . . ."
Wait a minute . . . he knew that voice!!! Feeling highly confused as to why she'd be here, especially at this time of night, he knocked softly on the door and then opened it.
"Steph??", he asked. No answer from the darkness of the room.
He walked in the room, eyes adjusting to the dim light. He caught a glimpse of a still form curled up on a hospital chair . . . one that strongly resembled Shane McMahon. Chris wondered what his best friend was doing sleeping in a hospital room, especially if Steph was here. Vince had most likely checked her in, and the last time Shane had shown his face in the WWF, Vince had gotten him thrown out, and pounded on a few times for good measure. Vince would never let Shane around his precious baby girl. The guy didn't look too good though . . . Chris thought Shane-O could use some medical attention of his own.
He bypassed Shane's chair and continued to the hospital bed. Steph laid on her back, sleeping quite peacefully. She looked so much younger, more innocent, without the heavy makeup. Her hair was spread out on the pillow, free of the waves and straight once again. Chris was struck by the change in her. He called her name again softly to see if she was indeed sleeping . . . she looked like she was fast asleep, or so he thought.
Stephanie had woken up when Chris had first walked in her room. She didn't understand what he was doing there . . . he was Shane's best friend, not hers. In fact, she believed he hated her more than anyone else. The way he insulted her behind Shane's back, calling her a whore and a slut, telling whoever'd listen that she was actually screwing half the locker room . . .
Chris pulled out Stephanie's chart, muttering comments under his breath as he read. "McMahon-Helmsley, Stephanie Marie . . . hey, she never told me that Marie was her middle name!! . . . age 26 . . . birthplace: Greenwich, Connecticut . . . *coughs* Preppyville!!! . . . parents: Vincent K. and Linda R. McMahon . . . brother: Shane B. McMahon . . . Shane-O!!! . . . husband: Hunter Hearst Helmsley . . . *another cough* JACKASS!!!"
Stephanie had to work very hard to stifle a laugh at that one.
"Hmmm . . . height . . . weight . . . nah, not gonna comment . . . BP: 118/90 . . . heart rate . . . ugh, this is getting boring . . . let's see . . . blood type: AB- . . . wow, that's my blood type . . . yadda, yadda, yadda . . . oh, well this is interesting . . . multiple contusions, bruising around ribs and across back, head wound requiring stitches . . . HOLY SHIT!!!", Chris yelled, nearly dropping the chart. He couldn't believe what he was reading. "Miscarriage!!!! What the hell did I miss?? What happened?"
Stephanie spoke up quietly. "Hunter happened . . ."
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Review??? O pwease????
