Thanks to all my reviewers, you all are so awesome. In response to Jeff's
Favourite Skittle's question, um, there's a story behind that. I do like
Triple H, a lot, in fact. It's just his character right now is killing me.
I really despise it. Back when I wrote this, I basically used the layout
as I have it now. Hunter, in a manner of speaking, is more important than
Shawn. On my list on my bio, I do say I like Shawn more, but only now,
because of Hunter's character. I do respect them both equally. I hope I
answered your question!
A/N: Well, I haven't said much of the time frame, but I guess I'll do it now. It's set back in the day, I've screwed with time, and Hunter and Shawn are still not in the WWE. I know Chris, Hunter, and Shawn are closer in age, but like I said, I've screwed around with time.
Disclaimer: Just in case you do not know, I do not own Chris Irvine, Paul Leseveque, Shawn Hickenbottom, or Joanie Lauer. I own none of these people, the WWE does or they do.
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From Here to Heaven
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Part 3: Chris- There Is No Second Chance
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For a moment, I didn't fully comprehend what the man in the driver's seat had said. I was in too much pain. My knee was aching so fiercely I though I as going to pass out and every time I breathed, I felt a shudder pass long my ribs. The scrapes and the bruises weren't too much to worry about; it was my knee that threatened me the most. I felt slightly light- headed, but it wasn't hurting me too badly. All that mattered was my fucked up knee.
So I didn't hear what the man that had been called Shawn said too clearly. It was only after the man called Hunter gave a little cry that I realized.
He wasn't going to take me to the hospital.
I felt glorious, sweet relief surge throughout my body, dispelling the pain for a few moments. If he wasn't going to take me the hospital, I was free.
Relief had been the first emotion I had felt when these two men had chased off the drunken gang who had attacked me. I had been grateful; I would have been toast if they hadn't arrived. The gang had attacked me just because they had been drunk, and because of the fact, they hadn't hurt me badly. The scrapes and the bruises were the only new additions to my ribs and my knee, though they had greatly reinforced the halo of pain that surrounded them both. They hadn't been attacking me long when Shawn and Hunter had shown up, and for that I was eternally grateful.
Then, of course, good Samaritans have to be good Samaritans. At least the man named Shawn had. I had taken a liking to him almost immediately. He was open, and seemed honest enough. He had a smile that fit rather easily on his long face, yet the smile was also rather tragic. His blue eyes showed no sign of malice or any dishonesty; he was good and kind and strong. Of course, he had tried my patience after I had refused to leave to the hospital with him. He had done it out of the kindness of his heart, and though I hated him for that, I respected him almost instantly.
His friend Hunter was an entirely different story. I didn't like him. I didn't trust him. Surprisingly, even though Shawn had been the one who had forced me to leave with them, it was Hunter who I distrusted the most. The grooves in his forehead ran long and deep, giving him a forever mean, thoughtful appearance. His eyes were calculating, and he was a man who knew what he wanted in the world. He was a man who knew his place and thought he knew everyone else's; and that included me. He had already formed his judgment about me, and it was not good. No, I didn't trust him. My faith lay with his friend.
Apparently I had been rewarded and my white lies hadn't been challenged. Shawn proclaimed in a louder voice: "No."
"But Shawn-"Hunter protested.
"NO!" I shouted, surprising myself. "No, he's right! He's absolutely right! Listen to him!"
Shawn offered a small smile in the mirror and pulled off the freeway into a dark street.
"What exactly do you propose we do?" Hunter asked, outraged.
I tried to smile back at Shawn, but a sharp twist of my leg stopped any attempts and produced a yelp.
"He's hurt, Shawn!" Hunter said furiously. "He's really hurt and he needs a hospital! We shouldn't get involved, Shawn, listen to me, we shouldn't get-"
"Hunter, I respect your decision," Shawn said in his carrying way that overrode everything. "I respect you and you know that. But this isn't just some dog, Hunter- this is a kid."
I felt touched my Shawn's speech. Somebody was caring.
NO.
Nobody cared. Nobody ever cared. He was listening to his conscience, and he would sleep easier at night once he deposited me somewhere. He'd go to bed and think, "wasn't it swell we helped that poor kid? Aren't I such a good person?" It would fuel his almost non-existent ego and he'd be happy. He didn't care. It was to help his own ease of mind. Nobody cared.
"I think I can see that, Shawn," Hunter said slowly. "I can see that. But listen, if we tell them he was abused-"
"I wasn't abused," I said hotly. I hated the word. I hated it with a vengeance. "They just hit me, okay? It wasn't bad, but I hated it." Words came to my lips and I said them, even though they were in the same category of me telling them I could fly. "I've been doing it for a year and a half, okay? I can take care of myself."
"But maybe if we told them they'd listen-"
"Nobody ever listens," I hissed. "They had proof of that every time they packed me away and yet I came back up the way I went in. Do you think they'll listen to you?"
"We can try-"
"Alright," Shawn interrupted loudly, parking the car along a deserted street next to a pockmarked and vacant park. Good, this was a perfect spot to spend the day in solitude. I could find a shady spot next to a trash can and park myself for the next few days until my knee felt reasonably better. Then I'd pick up and start the trek as far away from Massachusetts as I could. I'd have to be careful, because they'd be looking for me, but I'd most likely be able to pull it off.
"Thanks for the help," I said shortly, already making preparations in my mind as I touched the door handle. Suddenly there was a loud click. For a moment, I didn't realize what it was. When I did, I furiously turned to Shawn. "Why'd you lock the doors? Let me out!"
I was treated to a look of confusion on his face. "Whoever said I was going to let you go? I said I wasn't going to let you go to the hospital."
It was my turn to be confused. "Then what are you going to do with me?"
Hunter groaned loudly. "No, Shawn, don't say it, it's not our business, it's not our problem! You can't-"
"You're not living alone anymore, Chris," Shawn said in a stern voice. "You're going to live with me."
There was only shock for a minute or two. Then I laughed, though it burned my ribs to do so. "You're crazy, man. You're really fucking-"
"Don't cuss," Shawn said automatically.
I had humored him before, and I did it again. "You're crazy, man. Who do you think you are?"
"I am the savior of your ass, that's who I am," Shawn said, his voice dead serious. "And you are a fifteen year old kid with no place else to go with a busted knee and running from a foster home. You're going to live with me."
"You're crazy!" Hunter erupted and for the first time and probably one of the few times in my life, I agreed with him. "You're crazy! You don't have the money to raise the kid! Where do you get the authority to do any of this? Are you a fucking retard, man? You've got to be crazy!"
Shawn watched us both with passive eyes, and then he turned to me. He spoke gently. "You're a kid, Chris. You're only a kid. You need a home. I'll fix your knee and I'll give you a home. I won't take you back to Canada or anything like that, so you won't need to worry. All I'm offering is a roof, a little grub, and that's all, but it's better that what you've been doing."
"You have no idea what I've been doing!" I shouted furiously. "You have no idea! You have no right, no FUCKING right to come in and tell me what to do! Let me out of this fucking car, I'm leaving!"
"When was the last time you ate?" Shawn asked.
The question took me so by surprise I actually stopped moving. "Huh?"
"When was the last time you ate?" Shawn said slowly.
The dawn was streaking across the sky and as if in accordance to his words, my stomach roared. It had been days since my last scrap of food. I had stomached some puddle water, but I had not been able to salvage a piece of food I was sure had not been contaminated. I was practically starving, and only when Shawn mentioned it, did I realize the fact. But I couldn't tell him that. He was crazy and needed to be set straight. Telling him I was drop dead from lack of nutrients would not help.
"I ate yesterday," I lied. "I found some food next to Sizzler across town." For a moment, I thought they were going to believe my lie.
Then Hunter, in a slow, thoroughly confused voice, asked, "What's a Sizzler?"
"It's a restaurant, Hunter, but they don't have any in Massachusetts," Shawn said, and guilt washed over me. "Our little friend is lying."
Hunter's eyes went wide and angry. "I don't like liars, kid. Shawn would do good just to boot your ass across the street."
"Talk sense into him, then," I said, quickly overstepping my lie. "I want this as little as you do."
"So when was the last time you ate, Chris?" Shawn interrupted, as if I had just not spoken. "You look pretty thin and I'm pretty sure I could hear your stomach a minute ago."
My stomach grumbled loudly and Shawn and Hunter looked at each other.
"He's hungry," Hunter said, smiling a tight smile, as if he had just won a game. This was no game.
"Just let me go, okay? I don't need you."
"It's either me or the hospital, no choice." Shawn folded his arms against his chest and sat back against the seat, his eyes watching the mirror.
"I don't want to live with you!" I felt anger and pain. "Just let me go, okay? It's none of your concern! All I am to you is some low-life kid you saved from a mob, okay? I'm a hurt cat you saved from a bad dog. I'm not yours, I'm a stray, now let me go!"
Hunter, in the mirror, appeared taken aback by my little speech, but Shawn seemed nonplussed and he smiled gently in the mirror again. "All I'm asking is a chance, Chris. I won't make you go to school or anything; all I want you to have is some food and a roof. It's not much, but it's better than what you have. It's all I'm asking."
"Thanks, but I'm not interested." I kicked at the door with my good leg, but it didn't budge. "Unlock the door, Shawn."
"Would you like to go to the hospital, then?" Shawn watched me closely with his eyes.
Unbelievable frustration welled inside my heart. "No, I don't want to go! Just let me alone! I swear, I'll call the cops and say you're drug junkies or something!"
Hunter, to my utter surprise, cawed laughter. "That's a good one, kid. It's an anonymous tip to the public: watch out for two drug junkies. They avidly pick up homeless kids off the streets and offer them homes. Watch out. You surprise me, kid. You seem smart enough."
"I am," I challenged, wondering where Hunter was aiming.
For a moment, he didn't say anything, and then turned around in his seat to gaze upon me with his full face. "Shawn's offering you a home, kid. If it were me, and plus half the sane people in this world, I'd boot you out and back into your shitty life. But Shawn's been dropped on his head one too many times by an unfortunate idiot of a wrestler, so he's not sane. He's offering you a damn window, you ass. It ain't his problem, but now it is. So stop acting like the bastard kid you are and live up."
If it had come from anybody else, I might have been surprised. But from Hunter, it sounded like the most bullshit thing I'd ever heard in my life; yet it worked.
"So Hunter does care," Shawn mocked.
"I hate smart ass kids who think they're God," Hunter replied tersely. "Don't think I'm helping you, Shawn. I've got my own hide to worry about."
If it had come from anybody else but Hunter, I wouldn't have said yes.
But he was different. He had shown me nothing but brutal honesty and had just reiterated that.
For a few moments, I felt like a complete and utter jerk. I was dirt and a bad person. There was too much of a good thing and I was turning away from it.
It wasn't the hospital, and it wasn't a foster home. If he hit me, I'd hightail it out. But looking at Shawn, it seemed colossally impossible that he was capable of inflicting damage upon another human being. But then again, so had everybody else . . .
But it wasn't the hospital. It wasn't Canada, nor was it Mr. and Mrs. Strong who took their name literally and beat the shit out of every living thing their way. It wasn't hell; but if it turned out to be lightning from a blue sky, there would be no second chance. I would scram as fast as I could, and this time I wouldn't stop running until I reached the waters of the Pacific.
I looked up in the mirror at Shawn and said, with as much resentment as I could muster, "You wouldn't force me?"
Shawn's eyes lit up and that was kind of nice to see. Hunter looked as pissed off as ever; his little speech had worked and he hated it.
"I wouldn't force you," Shawn said, struggling to keep the excitement from his voice.
"You wouldn't make me do anything I didn't want to do? I could leave if I wanted to?"
"All I want is a chance," he replied sincerely.
I didn't want to say yes. I wanted to say with everything in me. I wanted to run.
But Shawn's eyes were too blue, too big. Hunter was too mad, too resentful, too angry.
And my leg was dying and it hurt to breathe and the awning hole in my stomach grew bigger by the second.
"All right, then," I said. "Let's roll."
A/N: Well, I haven't said much of the time frame, but I guess I'll do it now. It's set back in the day, I've screwed with time, and Hunter and Shawn are still not in the WWE. I know Chris, Hunter, and Shawn are closer in age, but like I said, I've screwed around with time.
Disclaimer: Just in case you do not know, I do not own Chris Irvine, Paul Leseveque, Shawn Hickenbottom, or Joanie Lauer. I own none of these people, the WWE does or they do.
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From Here to Heaven
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Part 3: Chris- There Is No Second Chance
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For a moment, I didn't fully comprehend what the man in the driver's seat had said. I was in too much pain. My knee was aching so fiercely I though I as going to pass out and every time I breathed, I felt a shudder pass long my ribs. The scrapes and the bruises weren't too much to worry about; it was my knee that threatened me the most. I felt slightly light- headed, but it wasn't hurting me too badly. All that mattered was my fucked up knee.
So I didn't hear what the man that had been called Shawn said too clearly. It was only after the man called Hunter gave a little cry that I realized.
He wasn't going to take me to the hospital.
I felt glorious, sweet relief surge throughout my body, dispelling the pain for a few moments. If he wasn't going to take me the hospital, I was free.
Relief had been the first emotion I had felt when these two men had chased off the drunken gang who had attacked me. I had been grateful; I would have been toast if they hadn't arrived. The gang had attacked me just because they had been drunk, and because of the fact, they hadn't hurt me badly. The scrapes and the bruises were the only new additions to my ribs and my knee, though they had greatly reinforced the halo of pain that surrounded them both. They hadn't been attacking me long when Shawn and Hunter had shown up, and for that I was eternally grateful.
Then, of course, good Samaritans have to be good Samaritans. At least the man named Shawn had. I had taken a liking to him almost immediately. He was open, and seemed honest enough. He had a smile that fit rather easily on his long face, yet the smile was also rather tragic. His blue eyes showed no sign of malice or any dishonesty; he was good and kind and strong. Of course, he had tried my patience after I had refused to leave to the hospital with him. He had done it out of the kindness of his heart, and though I hated him for that, I respected him almost instantly.
His friend Hunter was an entirely different story. I didn't like him. I didn't trust him. Surprisingly, even though Shawn had been the one who had forced me to leave with them, it was Hunter who I distrusted the most. The grooves in his forehead ran long and deep, giving him a forever mean, thoughtful appearance. His eyes were calculating, and he was a man who knew what he wanted in the world. He was a man who knew his place and thought he knew everyone else's; and that included me. He had already formed his judgment about me, and it was not good. No, I didn't trust him. My faith lay with his friend.
Apparently I had been rewarded and my white lies hadn't been challenged. Shawn proclaimed in a louder voice: "No."
"But Shawn-"Hunter protested.
"NO!" I shouted, surprising myself. "No, he's right! He's absolutely right! Listen to him!"
Shawn offered a small smile in the mirror and pulled off the freeway into a dark street.
"What exactly do you propose we do?" Hunter asked, outraged.
I tried to smile back at Shawn, but a sharp twist of my leg stopped any attempts and produced a yelp.
"He's hurt, Shawn!" Hunter said furiously. "He's really hurt and he needs a hospital! We shouldn't get involved, Shawn, listen to me, we shouldn't get-"
"Hunter, I respect your decision," Shawn said in his carrying way that overrode everything. "I respect you and you know that. But this isn't just some dog, Hunter- this is a kid."
I felt touched my Shawn's speech. Somebody was caring.
NO.
Nobody cared. Nobody ever cared. He was listening to his conscience, and he would sleep easier at night once he deposited me somewhere. He'd go to bed and think, "wasn't it swell we helped that poor kid? Aren't I such a good person?" It would fuel his almost non-existent ego and he'd be happy. He didn't care. It was to help his own ease of mind. Nobody cared.
"I think I can see that, Shawn," Hunter said slowly. "I can see that. But listen, if we tell them he was abused-"
"I wasn't abused," I said hotly. I hated the word. I hated it with a vengeance. "They just hit me, okay? It wasn't bad, but I hated it." Words came to my lips and I said them, even though they were in the same category of me telling them I could fly. "I've been doing it for a year and a half, okay? I can take care of myself."
"But maybe if we told them they'd listen-"
"Nobody ever listens," I hissed. "They had proof of that every time they packed me away and yet I came back up the way I went in. Do you think they'll listen to you?"
"We can try-"
"Alright," Shawn interrupted loudly, parking the car along a deserted street next to a pockmarked and vacant park. Good, this was a perfect spot to spend the day in solitude. I could find a shady spot next to a trash can and park myself for the next few days until my knee felt reasonably better. Then I'd pick up and start the trek as far away from Massachusetts as I could. I'd have to be careful, because they'd be looking for me, but I'd most likely be able to pull it off.
"Thanks for the help," I said shortly, already making preparations in my mind as I touched the door handle. Suddenly there was a loud click. For a moment, I didn't realize what it was. When I did, I furiously turned to Shawn. "Why'd you lock the doors? Let me out!"
I was treated to a look of confusion on his face. "Whoever said I was going to let you go? I said I wasn't going to let you go to the hospital."
It was my turn to be confused. "Then what are you going to do with me?"
Hunter groaned loudly. "No, Shawn, don't say it, it's not our business, it's not our problem! You can't-"
"You're not living alone anymore, Chris," Shawn said in a stern voice. "You're going to live with me."
There was only shock for a minute or two. Then I laughed, though it burned my ribs to do so. "You're crazy, man. You're really fucking-"
"Don't cuss," Shawn said automatically.
I had humored him before, and I did it again. "You're crazy, man. Who do you think you are?"
"I am the savior of your ass, that's who I am," Shawn said, his voice dead serious. "And you are a fifteen year old kid with no place else to go with a busted knee and running from a foster home. You're going to live with me."
"You're crazy!" Hunter erupted and for the first time and probably one of the few times in my life, I agreed with him. "You're crazy! You don't have the money to raise the kid! Where do you get the authority to do any of this? Are you a fucking retard, man? You've got to be crazy!"
Shawn watched us both with passive eyes, and then he turned to me. He spoke gently. "You're a kid, Chris. You're only a kid. You need a home. I'll fix your knee and I'll give you a home. I won't take you back to Canada or anything like that, so you won't need to worry. All I'm offering is a roof, a little grub, and that's all, but it's better that what you've been doing."
"You have no idea what I've been doing!" I shouted furiously. "You have no idea! You have no right, no FUCKING right to come in and tell me what to do! Let me out of this fucking car, I'm leaving!"
"When was the last time you ate?" Shawn asked.
The question took me so by surprise I actually stopped moving. "Huh?"
"When was the last time you ate?" Shawn said slowly.
The dawn was streaking across the sky and as if in accordance to his words, my stomach roared. It had been days since my last scrap of food. I had stomached some puddle water, but I had not been able to salvage a piece of food I was sure had not been contaminated. I was practically starving, and only when Shawn mentioned it, did I realize the fact. But I couldn't tell him that. He was crazy and needed to be set straight. Telling him I was drop dead from lack of nutrients would not help.
"I ate yesterday," I lied. "I found some food next to Sizzler across town." For a moment, I thought they were going to believe my lie.
Then Hunter, in a slow, thoroughly confused voice, asked, "What's a Sizzler?"
"It's a restaurant, Hunter, but they don't have any in Massachusetts," Shawn said, and guilt washed over me. "Our little friend is lying."
Hunter's eyes went wide and angry. "I don't like liars, kid. Shawn would do good just to boot your ass across the street."
"Talk sense into him, then," I said, quickly overstepping my lie. "I want this as little as you do."
"So when was the last time you ate, Chris?" Shawn interrupted, as if I had just not spoken. "You look pretty thin and I'm pretty sure I could hear your stomach a minute ago."
My stomach grumbled loudly and Shawn and Hunter looked at each other.
"He's hungry," Hunter said, smiling a tight smile, as if he had just won a game. This was no game.
"Just let me go, okay? I don't need you."
"It's either me or the hospital, no choice." Shawn folded his arms against his chest and sat back against the seat, his eyes watching the mirror.
"I don't want to live with you!" I felt anger and pain. "Just let me go, okay? It's none of your concern! All I am to you is some low-life kid you saved from a mob, okay? I'm a hurt cat you saved from a bad dog. I'm not yours, I'm a stray, now let me go!"
Hunter, in the mirror, appeared taken aback by my little speech, but Shawn seemed nonplussed and he smiled gently in the mirror again. "All I'm asking is a chance, Chris. I won't make you go to school or anything; all I want you to have is some food and a roof. It's not much, but it's better than what you have. It's all I'm asking."
"Thanks, but I'm not interested." I kicked at the door with my good leg, but it didn't budge. "Unlock the door, Shawn."
"Would you like to go to the hospital, then?" Shawn watched me closely with his eyes.
Unbelievable frustration welled inside my heart. "No, I don't want to go! Just let me alone! I swear, I'll call the cops and say you're drug junkies or something!"
Hunter, to my utter surprise, cawed laughter. "That's a good one, kid. It's an anonymous tip to the public: watch out for two drug junkies. They avidly pick up homeless kids off the streets and offer them homes. Watch out. You surprise me, kid. You seem smart enough."
"I am," I challenged, wondering where Hunter was aiming.
For a moment, he didn't say anything, and then turned around in his seat to gaze upon me with his full face. "Shawn's offering you a home, kid. If it were me, and plus half the sane people in this world, I'd boot you out and back into your shitty life. But Shawn's been dropped on his head one too many times by an unfortunate idiot of a wrestler, so he's not sane. He's offering you a damn window, you ass. It ain't his problem, but now it is. So stop acting like the bastard kid you are and live up."
If it had come from anybody else, I might have been surprised. But from Hunter, it sounded like the most bullshit thing I'd ever heard in my life; yet it worked.
"So Hunter does care," Shawn mocked.
"I hate smart ass kids who think they're God," Hunter replied tersely. "Don't think I'm helping you, Shawn. I've got my own hide to worry about."
If it had come from anybody else but Hunter, I wouldn't have said yes.
But he was different. He had shown me nothing but brutal honesty and had just reiterated that.
For a few moments, I felt like a complete and utter jerk. I was dirt and a bad person. There was too much of a good thing and I was turning away from it.
It wasn't the hospital, and it wasn't a foster home. If he hit me, I'd hightail it out. But looking at Shawn, it seemed colossally impossible that he was capable of inflicting damage upon another human being. But then again, so had everybody else . . .
But it wasn't the hospital. It wasn't Canada, nor was it Mr. and Mrs. Strong who took their name literally and beat the shit out of every living thing their way. It wasn't hell; but if it turned out to be lightning from a blue sky, there would be no second chance. I would scram as fast as I could, and this time I wouldn't stop running until I reached the waters of the Pacific.
I looked up in the mirror at Shawn and said, with as much resentment as I could muster, "You wouldn't force me?"
Shawn's eyes lit up and that was kind of nice to see. Hunter looked as pissed off as ever; his little speech had worked and he hated it.
"I wouldn't force you," Shawn said, struggling to keep the excitement from his voice.
"You wouldn't make me do anything I didn't want to do? I could leave if I wanted to?"
"All I want is a chance," he replied sincerely.
I didn't want to say yes. I wanted to say with everything in me. I wanted to run.
But Shawn's eyes were too blue, too big. Hunter was too mad, too resentful, too angry.
And my leg was dying and it hurt to breathe and the awning hole in my stomach grew bigger by the second.
"All right, then," I said. "Let's roll."