"Shane, please. I've never asked you for anything."
Shane McMahon was many things, young business mogul and generally pleasant person among them. He was not, however, a pushover, and it was that particular aspect of his personality that was making Edge's life rather difficult.
"So let me get this straight," Shane interrupted, rubbing his temples and swaying back and forth a bit in his leather office chair. "You and Christian both want to go on vacation for some unknown amount of time, to go to some unknown place, for some reason you won't tell me about." Edge nodded, to which Shane raised an eyebrow. "What makes me think you two airheads joined the mob while I wasn't looking and you're trying to ditch a body somewhere?"
"Well, we're . . . uh . . . looking for some personal bonding time, y'know? We're trying to mend burned bridges and all that."
"Uh huh."
"Honest!"
Shane shook his head sadly, putting his hand over his eyes. "Seriously, Edge -- do you really think I'm that stupid? I'm not that much older than you, you know. I know you probably just wanna go fool around and get paid for it."
Edge tried his best "shucks, you caught me" grin but ended up looking like a frightened deer instead. "We really won't be gone *too* long, Shane, I promise. Just long enough to get things straightened out."
Though he appeared more than a little skeptical, Shane waved his hand and signed the paper in front of him; it was Edge's request for personal leave for both himself and his brother. "Alright, alright, fine. But just incase you two get thrown in jail for public drunkenness or something just as stupid, you don't work for me or my father. Got it?"
"Got it. Thanks."
"No problem. Oh, and on your way out, will you tell Julie to hunt down some Tylenol?"
Once he stepped out of the elevator when it reached the lobby of the office building, Edge neared Christian and caught himself smiling lightly to see Christian curled up on a couch, sound asleep and oblivious to the bustling office workers around him. Edge had roused him from a deep sleep barely before seven a.m., insisting they go to see Shane about some time off and then embarking on a potentially deadly road trip. Christian, being Christian, had cursed and kicked and then rolled over and pulled the blanket up over his head. Consequently, Edge had more or less dragged him out to the car and driven the short distance from their hotel in New Jersey to their company's headquarters, hoping against hope it would be one of those rare days when Shane decided to show up before noon.
"Hey," he started, shaking Christian's shoulder gently. All he received was a grumbled protest. "Chris, c'mon, man. We gotta go."
"Go 'way," Christian moaned into the couch cushions.
"Christian, don't make me have to carry you again."
"Hey Edge."
"Yeah?"
"Go screw yourself." Christian rolled over and glared up at his brother, stuck his tongue out, and then promptly rolled back onto his side and pushed himself against the cushions, making it quite clear he had no intentions on leaving anytime soon.
"It's funny. I thought you were cute when I first came in, looking all like a little kid and everything curled up asleep. You're the only person I know who could completely ruin that image in under a minute."
"My heart's breaking, Edge, really. It is. Now leave me alone."
"I'm not telling you again to get up off the couch."
Not given any hint of a response, Edge shrugged and motioned for the burly security guard at the door to come closer. The next thing Christian knew, he was on all fours thanks to the couch being tilted up to a ninety degree angle on its end. He glared up at Edge, who was currently shaking the guard's hand and thanking him for the help, and he couldn't quite think of a comment rude enough to make, so he settled for flipping him off and resentfully picking himself up off the ground and brushing the knees of his jeans off.
"I tried to tell you."
"I'm not talking to you," Christian mumbled almost incoherently, shooting a hateful glance at the guard as he pushed his way through the revolving doors, hoping against hope he could manage to smack Edge in the face as he did. Or, better yet, squish him. Neither happened, so he stuffed his hands in his pockets and silently fumed the whole way across the street to where his brother's Rodeo was parked, but not without having a close encounter with a taxi driver who rounded the corner and very nearly ran him down.
"I swear to God, I wish Gangrel would just find me and get it over with already," he groused sorely, climbing into the front passenger seat before anything more could happen to him. "I think I'd be safer."
"Would you please stop complaining for at least a few minutes?" Edge pleaded while searching for his keys and then starting the car. Immediately, Christian reached for the CD player's buttons, but he pulled away when his hand was smacked. "Hey, no. You remember the rules. Driver picks."
"You're not the one being chased by some bad Anne Rice throwback!"
Edge considered the remark, then sighed in resignation. "Fine. But no rap, country, gospel . . ." He paused, smirking. "Well, maybe it'd help you if you tried listening to gospel."
"Have I mentioned today how very much I hate you?"
"Not yet, but you've only been awake for maybe twenty minutes altogether."
Christian opened his mouth to make a rebuttal, then closed it when no decent comeback came to mind. After finding a local rock station, he directed his attention out the window, watching with little interest as people filed past on their way to work. Normal people. He was willing to bet that they didn't have stalkers. He envied them their simple, pathetic little humdrum lives of work, home, golf course, repeat.
"You okay?"
Knocked from his thoughts, he nodded absentmindedly, then reminded himself he was supposed to be mad at Edge and not speaking to him. "Leave me alone."
Unfortunately for Christian, Edge was used to his moody attitude and knew by then the anger was mostly just for show. "Chris, look. I'm sorry about all this, okay? And I promise, when we get it all straightened out, I'll try to explain what I can. But for now you're just gonna have to trust me and go along with it." He stopped at a red light, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel in time to the song playing that he couldn't recognize offhand. "Even though I should probably just let you get whatever you've got coming to you after what happened in September, I'm trying to help you out."
"You're probably leading me right to him so you can have a big pig roast or something."
"Nah. I don't think your mouth's big enough to fit an apple in it." Edge grinned innocently at the shocked look he was given. "Joking. I know it's big enough."
"Hey Edge, guess what?"
"Hmm?"
"You're a dick and I hate you and I wish plague and pestilence on your unborn children."
Edge laughed quietly as he took an on-ramp to the main highway. Sometimes, it was like they had never parted ways.
******
It was probably a bad sign that Edge was still up and pacing at nearly two a.m. Far be it for him to realize that, though, hence the reason he walked an unerring path from the far end of the small motel room to the bathroom to the door and back again. Several hours of straight driving with no real cares as to where they were going had drained both he and Christian, who'd ended up taking turns at the wheel once Christian finally decided to stay awake. They had been making fairly good time, only making stops every few hours for food and bathroom breaks. That was the only reason Edge could find that explained how they were already in Indiana. Christian's frequent whining about being tired finally convinced Edge to check into a Motel 6 sometime just past eleven p.m. for the rest of the night. Of course he would never admit as much to his brother, but he was tired as well and wished vehemently for sleep to claim him every time he closed his eyes.
The only problem with that was that every time his eyes slid shut, long-buried memories creeped back to the surface, and he found himself a scared teenage boy on the brink of death, huddled in an alley and praying for an angel to appear out of the snow. All he'd been given was the devil in disguise, and like a fool he'd fallen prey to him.
So, rather than spend the night scaring himself with the memory playing over and over in his mind, he paced. Constantly. Sometimes fast, other times slow, but always pacing. He'd stopped long enough to go out to the car and get a can of Mellow Yellow from the cooler in the backseat, but then he always returned to pacing. As proof of how very tired he really was, Christian had only yelled at him about it twice before giving up and going to sleep.
Edge rounded on his heel when he reached the door, sipping from his almost empty can of soda and watching his baby brother. The fact Christian was even alive at all was testament to his stubborn nature. Their father, jewel of a husband that he was, sent their mother into premature labor while pregnant with her second child. Edge couldn't recall the entire ordeal, having been only two and a half at the time, but some nights if he tried hard enough he could vaguely remember seeing his brother in the incubator, tiny body covered with tubes and wires and dwarfed by his surroundings. He hadn't been expected to live but, as he would come to do so many times later, Christian spat in the face of all those who doubted him and grew bigger, stronger, until he was finally released from the hospital and into his parents' care.
"Go," a voice mumbled, muffled and almost incoherent. It took a moment for it to register in Edge's mind that Christian was tossing and fighting some invisible enemy and succeeding only in wrapping the blankets impossibly tight around himself. "Ungh," he groaned miserably, whimpering slightly as he did so. Too used to his brother's frequent nightmares, Edge crossed the distance between them in two long-legged strides and seated himself at the foot of the bed, nudging Christian in attempts to wake him up. The smaller blonde's eyes immediately snapped open; he shot back against the headboard, eyes terrified and a gaping mouth to accompany them.
"Edge?" He asked meekly after a bewildered moment. The slight nod was all the answer he needed; he dove into the open arms before him and broke down into a mess of frazzled nerves, trembling violently and sobbing against the shoulder presented to him. The room and the entire world faded away, leaving nothing but he and Edge's arms wrapped protectively around him, Edge's hand running over and through his hair, Edge's uncharacteristically soft voice delivering a chant of comforting words.
"Shh," Edge soothed, trying in vain to quiet his brother's pained crying. "Shh, Chris, don't cry. Don't cry, buddy, it's okay. It's alright. Everything's okay. No one's gonna hurt you now, you're safe. Shhh." To his surprise, Christian's sobbing became much more pronounced, and Edge clutched onto the small body in his arms as if he could keep the sobs from ripping it apart. "Oh, God...Chris, please don't cry ..."
He poked his nose into the messy blond hair atop Christian's head, fighting to keep his own tears at bay. For Christian's sake, he had to be the strong one now, he had to keep from falling apart just to keep Christian even somewhat calm. He felt fingers digging into his back as Christian tightened his grip, holding on for dear life, and he began rocking his brother gently back and forth, trying everything he knew to ease his troubled breathing and choking gasps for air. "Chris...Chris, you're gonna have to calm down, okay? I want you to try to calm down." He pressed a kiss to Christian's temple, wishing for all the world he knew how to take all the pain from his baby brother. Too much of his life had been spent this way, trying to lull Christian back to sleep after whatever demon creeped into his dreams in the middle of the night. Worse still was the knowledge that most of the nightmares were caused by memories rather than an overactive imagination. Their childhoods had not been happy by any means, and even while they were both quite successful as adults, the gods of fate had neglected to end their game of plaguing Christian's nights with recycled memories to torture him.
Though he would admit it to no one and was terribly offended whenever it was even suggested, Christian was emotionally dependent on his older brother once the sun went down and memories came creeping to the edge of his mind. Edge was the only one who could drive them back, keep him sane, or put him back together after a nightmare shredded his every sense of peace. The nightmares had haunted him for as long as he could remember, and he always had a different way of dealing with them. At times he would wake up screaming, crying, and throwing any object within reach. Others he would wake himself up with his tears and bite down on his hand in a desperate attempt to keep his sobs to barely audible muffles for fear Edge would hear him. Still other times, usually after a particularly vivid nightmare, he would crawl into bed with his brother, shaking and crying hysterically and rambling in a jumble of nonsensical words, just to prove to himself he was awake and the events in his dreams couldn't touch him.
"Make it go away," he pleaded in a pitifully small voice, wavering with fright but nevertheless hopeful. Edge pulled him away just enough to cup his face in his hands, brushing the tears threatening to fall with his thumbs.
"I can't, Chrissy," Edge answered, oblivious to the use of the nickname he hadn't attributed to his brother since they were small children. "I wish I could, but I can't. I'd do anything to make it all go away, but I can't. I promise, though...I promise, Chrissy, no one's gonna hurt you again, okay?"
Christian nodded and let himself be pulled back into the strong embrace, burying his face against Edge's chest and wetting the thin t-shirt over it with his tears. Edge paid no attention to it, instead concentrating on running comforting circles along Christian's back and hoping against hope his brother wouldn't notice he was crying as well.
"I love you, Christian," he murmured to no one in particular. "I love you so much. I'll never let anyone hurt you again."
"Love you, too," Christian responded, almost unintelligibly.
"I know you do." Edge squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "I wish you didn't, but I know you do."
Shane McMahon was many things, young business mogul and generally pleasant person among them. He was not, however, a pushover, and it was that particular aspect of his personality that was making Edge's life rather difficult.
"So let me get this straight," Shane interrupted, rubbing his temples and swaying back and forth a bit in his leather office chair. "You and Christian both want to go on vacation for some unknown amount of time, to go to some unknown place, for some reason you won't tell me about." Edge nodded, to which Shane raised an eyebrow. "What makes me think you two airheads joined the mob while I wasn't looking and you're trying to ditch a body somewhere?"
"Well, we're . . . uh . . . looking for some personal bonding time, y'know? We're trying to mend burned bridges and all that."
"Uh huh."
"Honest!"
Shane shook his head sadly, putting his hand over his eyes. "Seriously, Edge -- do you really think I'm that stupid? I'm not that much older than you, you know. I know you probably just wanna go fool around and get paid for it."
Edge tried his best "shucks, you caught me" grin but ended up looking like a frightened deer instead. "We really won't be gone *too* long, Shane, I promise. Just long enough to get things straightened out."
Though he appeared more than a little skeptical, Shane waved his hand and signed the paper in front of him; it was Edge's request for personal leave for both himself and his brother. "Alright, alright, fine. But just incase you two get thrown in jail for public drunkenness or something just as stupid, you don't work for me or my father. Got it?"
"Got it. Thanks."
"No problem. Oh, and on your way out, will you tell Julie to hunt down some Tylenol?"
Once he stepped out of the elevator when it reached the lobby of the office building, Edge neared Christian and caught himself smiling lightly to see Christian curled up on a couch, sound asleep and oblivious to the bustling office workers around him. Edge had roused him from a deep sleep barely before seven a.m., insisting they go to see Shane about some time off and then embarking on a potentially deadly road trip. Christian, being Christian, had cursed and kicked and then rolled over and pulled the blanket up over his head. Consequently, Edge had more or less dragged him out to the car and driven the short distance from their hotel in New Jersey to their company's headquarters, hoping against hope it would be one of those rare days when Shane decided to show up before noon.
"Hey," he started, shaking Christian's shoulder gently. All he received was a grumbled protest. "Chris, c'mon, man. We gotta go."
"Go 'way," Christian moaned into the couch cushions.
"Christian, don't make me have to carry you again."
"Hey Edge."
"Yeah?"
"Go screw yourself." Christian rolled over and glared up at his brother, stuck his tongue out, and then promptly rolled back onto his side and pushed himself against the cushions, making it quite clear he had no intentions on leaving anytime soon.
"It's funny. I thought you were cute when I first came in, looking all like a little kid and everything curled up asleep. You're the only person I know who could completely ruin that image in under a minute."
"My heart's breaking, Edge, really. It is. Now leave me alone."
"I'm not telling you again to get up off the couch."
Not given any hint of a response, Edge shrugged and motioned for the burly security guard at the door to come closer. The next thing Christian knew, he was on all fours thanks to the couch being tilted up to a ninety degree angle on its end. He glared up at Edge, who was currently shaking the guard's hand and thanking him for the help, and he couldn't quite think of a comment rude enough to make, so he settled for flipping him off and resentfully picking himself up off the ground and brushing the knees of his jeans off.
"I tried to tell you."
"I'm not talking to you," Christian mumbled almost incoherently, shooting a hateful glance at the guard as he pushed his way through the revolving doors, hoping against hope he could manage to smack Edge in the face as he did. Or, better yet, squish him. Neither happened, so he stuffed his hands in his pockets and silently fumed the whole way across the street to where his brother's Rodeo was parked, but not without having a close encounter with a taxi driver who rounded the corner and very nearly ran him down.
"I swear to God, I wish Gangrel would just find me and get it over with already," he groused sorely, climbing into the front passenger seat before anything more could happen to him. "I think I'd be safer."
"Would you please stop complaining for at least a few minutes?" Edge pleaded while searching for his keys and then starting the car. Immediately, Christian reached for the CD player's buttons, but he pulled away when his hand was smacked. "Hey, no. You remember the rules. Driver picks."
"You're not the one being chased by some bad Anne Rice throwback!"
Edge considered the remark, then sighed in resignation. "Fine. But no rap, country, gospel . . ." He paused, smirking. "Well, maybe it'd help you if you tried listening to gospel."
"Have I mentioned today how very much I hate you?"
"Not yet, but you've only been awake for maybe twenty minutes altogether."
Christian opened his mouth to make a rebuttal, then closed it when no decent comeback came to mind. After finding a local rock station, he directed his attention out the window, watching with little interest as people filed past on their way to work. Normal people. He was willing to bet that they didn't have stalkers. He envied them their simple, pathetic little humdrum lives of work, home, golf course, repeat.
"You okay?"
Knocked from his thoughts, he nodded absentmindedly, then reminded himself he was supposed to be mad at Edge and not speaking to him. "Leave me alone."
Unfortunately for Christian, Edge was used to his moody attitude and knew by then the anger was mostly just for show. "Chris, look. I'm sorry about all this, okay? And I promise, when we get it all straightened out, I'll try to explain what I can. But for now you're just gonna have to trust me and go along with it." He stopped at a red light, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel in time to the song playing that he couldn't recognize offhand. "Even though I should probably just let you get whatever you've got coming to you after what happened in September, I'm trying to help you out."
"You're probably leading me right to him so you can have a big pig roast or something."
"Nah. I don't think your mouth's big enough to fit an apple in it." Edge grinned innocently at the shocked look he was given. "Joking. I know it's big enough."
"Hey Edge, guess what?"
"Hmm?"
"You're a dick and I hate you and I wish plague and pestilence on your unborn children."
Edge laughed quietly as he took an on-ramp to the main highway. Sometimes, it was like they had never parted ways.
******
It was probably a bad sign that Edge was still up and pacing at nearly two a.m. Far be it for him to realize that, though, hence the reason he walked an unerring path from the far end of the small motel room to the bathroom to the door and back again. Several hours of straight driving with no real cares as to where they were going had drained both he and Christian, who'd ended up taking turns at the wheel once Christian finally decided to stay awake. They had been making fairly good time, only making stops every few hours for food and bathroom breaks. That was the only reason Edge could find that explained how they were already in Indiana. Christian's frequent whining about being tired finally convinced Edge to check into a Motel 6 sometime just past eleven p.m. for the rest of the night. Of course he would never admit as much to his brother, but he was tired as well and wished vehemently for sleep to claim him every time he closed his eyes.
The only problem with that was that every time his eyes slid shut, long-buried memories creeped back to the surface, and he found himself a scared teenage boy on the brink of death, huddled in an alley and praying for an angel to appear out of the snow. All he'd been given was the devil in disguise, and like a fool he'd fallen prey to him.
So, rather than spend the night scaring himself with the memory playing over and over in his mind, he paced. Constantly. Sometimes fast, other times slow, but always pacing. He'd stopped long enough to go out to the car and get a can of Mellow Yellow from the cooler in the backseat, but then he always returned to pacing. As proof of how very tired he really was, Christian had only yelled at him about it twice before giving up and going to sleep.
Edge rounded on his heel when he reached the door, sipping from his almost empty can of soda and watching his baby brother. The fact Christian was even alive at all was testament to his stubborn nature. Their father, jewel of a husband that he was, sent their mother into premature labor while pregnant with her second child. Edge couldn't recall the entire ordeal, having been only two and a half at the time, but some nights if he tried hard enough he could vaguely remember seeing his brother in the incubator, tiny body covered with tubes and wires and dwarfed by his surroundings. He hadn't been expected to live but, as he would come to do so many times later, Christian spat in the face of all those who doubted him and grew bigger, stronger, until he was finally released from the hospital and into his parents' care.
"Go," a voice mumbled, muffled and almost incoherent. It took a moment for it to register in Edge's mind that Christian was tossing and fighting some invisible enemy and succeeding only in wrapping the blankets impossibly tight around himself. "Ungh," he groaned miserably, whimpering slightly as he did so. Too used to his brother's frequent nightmares, Edge crossed the distance between them in two long-legged strides and seated himself at the foot of the bed, nudging Christian in attempts to wake him up. The smaller blonde's eyes immediately snapped open; he shot back against the headboard, eyes terrified and a gaping mouth to accompany them.
"Edge?" He asked meekly after a bewildered moment. The slight nod was all the answer he needed; he dove into the open arms before him and broke down into a mess of frazzled nerves, trembling violently and sobbing against the shoulder presented to him. The room and the entire world faded away, leaving nothing but he and Edge's arms wrapped protectively around him, Edge's hand running over and through his hair, Edge's uncharacteristically soft voice delivering a chant of comforting words.
"Shh," Edge soothed, trying in vain to quiet his brother's pained crying. "Shh, Chris, don't cry. Don't cry, buddy, it's okay. It's alright. Everything's okay. No one's gonna hurt you now, you're safe. Shhh." To his surprise, Christian's sobbing became much more pronounced, and Edge clutched onto the small body in his arms as if he could keep the sobs from ripping it apart. "Oh, God...Chris, please don't cry ..."
He poked his nose into the messy blond hair atop Christian's head, fighting to keep his own tears at bay. For Christian's sake, he had to be the strong one now, he had to keep from falling apart just to keep Christian even somewhat calm. He felt fingers digging into his back as Christian tightened his grip, holding on for dear life, and he began rocking his brother gently back and forth, trying everything he knew to ease his troubled breathing and choking gasps for air. "Chris...Chris, you're gonna have to calm down, okay? I want you to try to calm down." He pressed a kiss to Christian's temple, wishing for all the world he knew how to take all the pain from his baby brother. Too much of his life had been spent this way, trying to lull Christian back to sleep after whatever demon creeped into his dreams in the middle of the night. Worse still was the knowledge that most of the nightmares were caused by memories rather than an overactive imagination. Their childhoods had not been happy by any means, and even while they were both quite successful as adults, the gods of fate had neglected to end their game of plaguing Christian's nights with recycled memories to torture him.
Though he would admit it to no one and was terribly offended whenever it was even suggested, Christian was emotionally dependent on his older brother once the sun went down and memories came creeping to the edge of his mind. Edge was the only one who could drive them back, keep him sane, or put him back together after a nightmare shredded his every sense of peace. The nightmares had haunted him for as long as he could remember, and he always had a different way of dealing with them. At times he would wake up screaming, crying, and throwing any object within reach. Others he would wake himself up with his tears and bite down on his hand in a desperate attempt to keep his sobs to barely audible muffles for fear Edge would hear him. Still other times, usually after a particularly vivid nightmare, he would crawl into bed with his brother, shaking and crying hysterically and rambling in a jumble of nonsensical words, just to prove to himself he was awake and the events in his dreams couldn't touch him.
"Make it go away," he pleaded in a pitifully small voice, wavering with fright but nevertheless hopeful. Edge pulled him away just enough to cup his face in his hands, brushing the tears threatening to fall with his thumbs.
"I can't, Chrissy," Edge answered, oblivious to the use of the nickname he hadn't attributed to his brother since they were small children. "I wish I could, but I can't. I'd do anything to make it all go away, but I can't. I promise, though...I promise, Chrissy, no one's gonna hurt you again, okay?"
Christian nodded and let himself be pulled back into the strong embrace, burying his face against Edge's chest and wetting the thin t-shirt over it with his tears. Edge paid no attention to it, instead concentrating on running comforting circles along Christian's back and hoping against hope his brother wouldn't notice he was crying as well.
"I love you, Christian," he murmured to no one in particular. "I love you so much. I'll never let anyone hurt you again."
"Love you, too," Christian responded, almost unintelligibly.
"I know you do." Edge squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "I wish you didn't, but I know you do."