Title: Drowning Slowly

Chapter 3: Fix

Author: Kora

E-mail: KrazyKora@aol.com or WinterViolet24@aol.com

Rating: R

Disclaimer: The following characters belong to WWE and all the people and companies who deal with all that legal stuff. I am simply using the characters for my own twisted enjoyment. The lyrics are by Ben Folds Five and belong to them.

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She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly

Off the coast and I'm headed nowhere

She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly

-Ben Folds Five, 'Brick'

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Stephanie sat at the tiny table in the motel room, picking at the Chinese food while Shawn spoke into the phone. He called the local hospital to let them know they were coming. He talked clearly and tried to sound calm but there was a slightly higher pitch to his voice then usual, showing his stress.

She overheard his side of the conversation as she stared at an eggroll with an almost abnormal amount of attention. She had stopped crying, which she found to be a relief. When she had started she was scared to death that she'd never stop. However, the crying and her subsequent vomiting, had left her throat raw and dry. She would have loved a drink but she didn't get one.

Slowly she was returning to the land of the living, feeling starting to come alive in her body despite her wishing different. She'd rather return to her catatonic shell then deal with how her body ached. Every throb that shuddered through her system caused her to remember what had happened, what he had done.

Suddenly she heard the phone click down on its handle. Shawn walked over to her, trying to look confident, "Doctors' said they're ready to see you. They said we need to bring your clothes in a brown paper bag."

Stephanie nodded, her eyes casting down to the clothing she wore now. Shawn hadn't had much in the way of woman's clothing so she found herself wearing a buttoned-up blue dress shirt and baggy jeans held to her body by one of his belts. Shawn took a seat across from her and reached out his hand to cover hers, giving it a light squeeze, "Hey, everything will be okay."

She managed a weak tug at the corner of her lips. Not quite a smile. She didn't think she'd ever smile again. Shawn saw the full plate of food before her. He felt foolish. Had he actually thought food would make her feel better? Nothing was going to make this any easier. He let out a sigh and rose to his feet, "Come on, let's get going."

Stephanie rose to her feet and watched as Shawn bent down to slip on his shoes. Ever since...what had happened to her earlier tonight, she found herself staring at the strangest things. Paying close attention. She was studying and analyzing quietly. She imagined it was because she would do almost anything to try and not think about what had happened. To not think about his fingers digging into her, his hot, stinking breath on her face.

Even now her thoughts drifted away from her jagged memories as she focused on Shawn's simple task. He looped together the laces on the old white sneakers, his fingers performing the required movements effortlessly. He had surprisingly quick fingers. They were tanned, long and graceful. Artists' hands. But working in the WWE had taken its toll; she could make out calluses, turning the image of fingers away from that of an artists' and closer to that of a farmer. Work man's hands.

His hair was loose; oddly enough she hadn't realized that until now. Normally his hair was pulled back but now it hung loosely around his face. It was still wet from the rain earlier, so it was remarkably curly, reminding her a bit of Hunter. The strands were a golden brown that probably nicely offset his eyes. She soon discovered this to be true as he looked up, locking his eyes with hers as he said, "Are you ready to go?"

She looked deeply into his eyes, examining them. They were perhaps his most startling feature because they stood out so acutely. A maelstrom of green and blue fibers all sewn together to form his perfect iris. His eyes also had such character. Looking into them told you exactly how he was feeling as well as providing a suggestive note of his nature. She could tell just by looking that he was someone who could be trusted, perhaps that was why she felt safe.

Those eyes narrowed as he frowned, "Stephanie?"

She had been pretty responsive earlier so the idea of her sinking back into that practically comatose state worried him. She assuaged his fears as she replied, "Yes, let's go."

He rose to his feet and went to the door, her at his heels when a thought occurred to him. She was puzzled as he turned away from the door but her unspoken question was soon answered as he walked over with his coat. He gently wrapped it around her shoulders and she looked up at him. He seemed a bit embarrassed as he grunted quickly, "It's still raining."

She couldn't help but be touched and pulled the jacket around herself tightly, "Thank you."

He gave a curt nod and opened the door for her. She stepped out, him following behind her and she let out an unsteady breath. Whether or not she was ready for it, the time had come. She was going to the hospital.

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"Ms. McMahon?" A young nurse asked sweetly. She held a metal clipboard in her hand and looked at Stephanie with the utmost concern.

Stephanie managed a wobbly nod. The nurse gave her a warm smile; "My name is Nurse Patterson. I'm going to take you to see the doctor, okay? We're going to run a few tests, including a sexual abuse evidentiary examination, do you understand?"

Stephanie gave another nod and Nurse Patterson nodded in return, "Good. Now if you'll just follow me I'll explain the exam on the way."

Nurse Patterson and Stephanie walked off, leaving Shawn all alone in one of the hospital hallways. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, wondering what to do next when suddenly another nurse appeared to his right, "Mr. Michaels?"

Shawn turned to her, "Yes?"

"I'm Nurse Filmore, you talked to me on the phone about your friend, Ms. McMahon?"

"Oh, yeah, hi."

The nurse gave him a sympathetic look and handed him a clipboard with papers on it, "Here, this will keep you busy while the exam takes place. You forgot to peruse these when you checked Ms. McMahon in. Most of these papers have legal and insurance information that perhaps only Ms. McMahon knows but you can try your best to fill in the blanks. I've seen people waiting for their loved ones during this time and I know how difficult it is for them to sit around and feel as if they're 'doing nothing'."

"Yeah, thanks. This'll help." Shawn said, managing to drum up a white toothed grin. Pleased, she walked away and he found a seat. All in all, he had been honest. Doing some paperwork would definitely help to try and take his mind of things until the exam was over. He worked for quite sometime, struggling with some of the questions when he felt the presence of some one standing over him.

He looked up to see a heavy set woman in her forties, "Are you the one who brought in Ms. McMahon?"

"Yes, Shawn Michaels." Shawn said, holding his hand out to the woman.

They shared a short shake and then the woman continued, "I'm Doctor Russell, Mr. Michaels. Tell me, is Ms. McMahon your wife or fiancée? Your girlfriend, perhaps?"

"No, she's just a friend."

"Ah, well," Doctor Russell drew out a clipboard similar to the one Nurse Patterson had, "I'd like to ask you a few questions. Now it says here you found her in a gutter after the assault?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hmm, how was she?"

"In a state of shock, practically frozen to death."

"I see. Did you bring her clothes?"

Shawn held out the brown paper bag to her. She took it from him and scribbled a few notes on the clipboard before turning to face him, "Now realize what I am about to tell you is only because Ms. McMahon requested it, not because I think it is wise. While you may have found Ms. McMahon you are of no relation to her and technically speaking I should not allow you to be privy to this information but as I said, she was adamant that I inform you."

"I understand."

Doctor Russell nodded, obviously appeased as she began, "Ms. McMahon was indeed a victim of rape. She is, however, not pregnant nor host to any STDs to speak of so far as we can tell."

"Thank god," Shawn breathed, a weight leaving him.

"However," Doctor Russell interjected, "She is suffering from a mild case of amnesia. I tested her system to see if she had possibly been drugged but found no evidence of such. This suggests that the amnesia has been caused by the shock she suffered. Should this be lifted, she may remember her attacker. From what I managed to gather, she was able to recall that the attacker was male and that he took her by surprise when she was exiting the coliseum. However, her memory of his face and anything truly identifying are blurred. Can you think of anyone who may have had motive to do such a thing?"

Shawn shook his head and Doctor Russell sighed, "At least eighty percent of sexual assaults occur between people who know each other. I assume since you are her friend you know people she knows. With that in mind, if I was you, I would keep a sharp eye out. I asked for the clothing because it may contain possible evidence the police can use if, and that's only if, Ms. McMahon chooses to report the assault. She has made no mention of doing so, so far. I have informed her of what she's entitled too, including the use of a sexual assault victim advocate.

"The advocates have special training in working with victims of this nature, especially in building a bridge between the victim and law enforcement. Still, everything is up to her. Rape is about taking away someone's power and control. Ms. McMahon-Stephanie-needs to be allowed to be in control and make her own decisions after what happened. She informed me of your actions and I applaud you for them, you handled yourself very well but I suggest reading this pamphlet to help you understand all of this better."

Doctor Russell handed him a pamphlet and sighed, "She's resting in her room right now, I've written the room number right on top of the pamphlet there, and you're welcome to see her. In fact, she was asking for you. I'd like to keep her overnight for further observation."

"No problem, thanks, Doc!" Shawn took the pamphlet in hand, checking the room number quickly then squeezing it tight as he headed to Stephanie's room.

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Stephanie lay in bed, her eyes closed in thought when Shawn entered, he gave her a tentative smile, "Hey there."

She opened her eyes as he came over and drew a seat up next to her bed, "How are you doing?"

"Good. I suppose." She whispered, fiddling with her hands, "They said it was a shame I took a shower because then a greater amount of evidence could have been preserved but they said that it was okay."

"Yeah, it is," Shawn assured her. They sat in silence for a moment until he managed to wrestle up enough courage to ask, "So what are you going to do now?"

She swallowed and leaned her head back, blinking back tears, "I don't know. I just want things to go back to how they were. I want things to be normal again. I came to the hospital because I thought maybe they could-I dunno, fix it. Fix me. But I guess that was silly. Nothing will be the same ever again."

She shook her head, her voice coming out thin, "You know that old saying? About how when you hear about this sort of thing you never ever think it could happen to you? Well, I was never like that. I could see this possibly happening to me. I mean, I'm a McMahon, a lot of people are gunning for me. And trying to be a diva? A sex symbol? I don't kid myself to that fact that somewhere out there there's some obsessed pervert who beats his meat off to me twenty four seven and dreams about what it would really be like to take a crack at the cherry pie. But, I don't know, even with that in mind I always thought-"

Her voice broke, "I always thought that even if it did happen I could protect myself-I could fight off whoever tried to attack me. I've always prided myself on being a strong person-physically and mentally and I just thought that if something like this came up they would never succeed in," she trailed off, waving a hand limply, "But I failed, Shawn. I wasn't strong enough. I cracked like an egg the moment he got his claws into me! He broke my strength physically and mentally, I mean you found me, you saw it, I was on the edge of my sanity!"

Tears began to roll down her cheeks, her voice had been rising to a shout as each angry thought poured out of her, "This is my fault. I should have fought back! I should have been stronger!"

"Ah, Stephanie, no, shh." He rose to his feet and took a seat next to her on the bed. She fell into his arms without hesitation and he held her close, running a hand along her hair soothingly as he spoke, "This was not your fault. It could never and will never be your fault. No matter what. You didn't commit the crime, the man who attacked you did. And I don't want you feeling guilty for not fighting back. I know that you acted back in the best manner you could when it happened. You did what you needed to, to survive and I am so thankful that you did survive. You're a wonderful person, Stephanie McMahon, and the world would be a wanting place without you in it."

Stephanie felt a watery, dry laugh escape her, "I am quite fortunate to have you, the silver-tongued Heart Break Kid, here to reassure me."

"Hey now," Shawn said softly and turned her eyes to meet his, "I meant every word I just said."

She sighed, "I know, Shawn. And I thank you for it. I thank you for a lot of things."

He pulled away from her and rose to his feet, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

She bit her lip, obviously thinking about something. At last she relented, "I want you to call Shane. I want him here."

"Your father?"

"NO! No, just Shane, please. My father would probably just be embarrassed about the whole situation."

"Stephanie, I'm sure he wouldn't..."

"Look Shawn, I'm just-I'm not ready to tell him. I can bearly take telling Shane, okay?"

"Okay, call Shane. I'm on it." Shawn headed towards the door.

Stephanie watched him turn, the muscles in his back catching her detailed attention this time. They were easy to see under his shirt. They weren't as big as Hunter's but they were ripped enough, tight steel bars hidden under a layer of skin and cotton, showing off his strength and vitality. He was almost out the door when she called to him again. He turned back to her, concern creasing his brow, "Yes?"

"Shawn, promise me...you'll come back. I-I don't want to be alone."

Shawn gave her a warm, toothy smile, "After I call, I'll come right back. We can split your jello."

Stephanie felt the corners of her mouth tug again. Earlier she had thought she would never be able to smile again. She got the feeling now, however, that if she kept hanging out around Shawn, that worry might be put to rest.