PART 33

"Randy, I..." Dave trailed off, finding himself - not surprisingly - at a loss for words.

He couldn't even begin to imagine the plethora of emotions Randy had to be feeling. He knew how much he loved Trish, and he couldn't even pretend to understand how horrifying this experience had to be for him. Sitting around, just waiting, unknowing of her safety, whether or not she'd be alright... it had to be unbearable. And what was even worse, knowing that his best friend had been part of the attack that landed her in the hospital in the first place.

At this point, Dave wasn't sure who was feeling worse; Randy, or himself. The guilt which had consumed his mind and body grew rapidly and by the second as he stared at his helpless-looking best friend. Best friend. Some mockery of the word he was. A real friend would never hurt someone they cared so much about in such a terrible way. A real friend wouldn't have put his career before that of another's safety.

As far as he was concerned, he was not only a poor excuse for a man as well. Paul had talked about it all the time, the difference between ordinary men and real men, the type they should always aspire to be. He felt attacking Trish to send a message to Randy would show the young Superstar who the real men were. To Paul, it was always about Evolution separating themselves from the ordinary men. And assaulting Trish did make them different from the others. It made them scum.

"Dave..." Randy began, already finding himself choking over his thoughts and words. "...How? How could you do this to her? To me?"

The emotion, the sheer betrayal in his tone stabbed at Dave's heart like a rusted dagger. Batista forced himself to look away, knowing full well if he were to keep his gaze locked on Randy he would surely throw up. It wouldn't be the first time since that dreadful event that Dave had to purge himself of his guilt by purging the contents of his stomach.

"I... I don't know, Randy," he replied quietly, shaking his head. "I knew it was wrong, and I hated myself for taking part in it, but I had to. Paul, he just... he forced me into it..."

Randy snorted at the comment, shaking his head.

"It's no excuse, Dave. I know how Paul is, and I know how hard it is to break away, but it can be done. You took the cowardly way out. You took Trish's safety and placed it not only in the hands of a madman, but you placed it beneath your career. I would think, after all we've been through together, you'd have the respect for her, for me, for yourself, to say no and to warn someone," Randy said, his voice strong and firm despite the fact that he was dying on the inside.

"I... I don't know what I was thinking... I guess I just..."

"How could not tell me this was going to happen?!" Randy cried suddenly, startling both Dave and himself by the intensity of his outburst. "How, when you knew Trish didn't deserve it, and you knew how much I love her, could you not tell me? You're supposed to be my best friend..."

Dave inhaled deeply, drawing his gaze back up to him, his stomach dropping. No longer attempting to hide his emotions, tears plainly glistened in Randy's eyes, slipping down his cheeks with each blink. Dave swallowed hard, an ominous lump forming in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing - no words, no sounds - came out. He simply stared; blank, dumbfounded, and pained all at the same time.

"What did you do?" Randy asked, biting back the sob that was aching to be released from the back of his throat. "I know what Paul did... what did you do?"

"Well..." Dave began, pausing to clear his throat, in hopes that he could make the waiver in his voice disappear. He squeezed his eyes shut, painfully recalling what happened on that dreadful night.

The look in her eyes alone was enough to make Dave want to kill himself. Her eyes - the normally cheerful, radiant chocolate orbs - were now full of terror. Terror that he was in part responsible for. He could barely bring himself to look at her at all.

"Why are you doing this?" Trish had asked him, gazing back at him as she received another blow to the cheek, courtesy of the so called Nature Boy, Ric Flair. "Dave, help me..."

He looked at her again, the already broken pieces of his heart shattering into billions more as he noticed the tears spilling down her cheeks. He sent her a look containing a thousand apologies, but he knew they would never be enough. He desperately wanted to talk to her, to let her know he wanted nothing to do with all this, but doing so would cost both of them more than they could afford.

"You're letting her go, Dave!" Paul's voice called, and even though he was standing right in front of him, Dave could barely make out his words.

He reluctantly tightened his grip he had on Trish's arms, which he was holding steady behind her back. A nauseas feeling rose in his stomach as she struggled to break free from his grasp. Her head snapped to the side as Paul viciously balled his hand into a fist and swung, connecting with her cheek. After that, Dave's senses vanished. He simply stared; and even though he could see everything that was happening, he had become so numb that none of it was sinking in.

Paul yanked Trish from Dave's hands, shoving her over to Ric, who in turned shoved her, face down, to the bed. The elder man sat beside her, using his body weight to hold her still. Dave's knees went weak, and he too dropped to the bed, sitting in front of Trish. From the corners of both their eyes, Dave and Trish could see Paul's hands sliding to his belt buckle, undoing it hastily. Realizing exactly what was going to happen, a terrified Trish could not hold back a scream. Dave felt as though he was going to be sick, and squeezed his eyes shut again, attempting to rid his brain of the images plaguing him. When he opened them, Trish was staring at him, fresh tears filling her pleading eyes.

"Dave, don't let him do this to me!" she begged. "Please... don't let him hurt me..."

Her grief-stricken words caused the bile in his stomach to rise rapidly, quickly shooting to his throat. He rose from the bed and bolted to the sliding door leading to the balcony, flinging it open and rushing outside. Leaning over the railing, he released the vomit that had been souring his stomach for hours, purging himself of his guilt, not to mention his lunch.

When the heaving feeling finally stopped, he lifted his head, taking a deep, slow breath. From the inside of the room, he could hear them. Trish and Paul. He could barely make out what Paul said... nothing sunk into his head except for Trish. He could hear her screaming, begging, and crying for help, but Dave froze, not daring to turn around to look. But the sound of the Trish so helplessly calling for help, his help, became too much. He leaned over the railing again, his system finding more waste to expel. God, he just wanted Paul to leave her alone...

Retelling the tale caused the same nauseas feelings that had caused Dave to throw up at the hotel to rush back to his system. He removed his gaze from Randy and placed it on the floor, swallowing hard, doing his best to force the taste down his throat. Still, it rose, and when Dave realized he was fighting a losing battle, he hopped up from his seat, his eyes frantically searching for a bathroom. When he located it, he ran to it, not even able to make it into a stall before vomiting again. He threw his head into the sink, heaving again and again, until there was nothing left in him.

Batista dropped to his knees, resting his head on the cold porcelain of the sink. For the first time since the previous night, the severity of what he had done sunk in, and hot tears burned at his eyes. He couldn't contain the sob that pushed its way out of his throat, and for a man who had nothing to say five minutes earlier, the words flowed from his mouth.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" he cried, a tear slipping from his eye and sliding down his cheek. "I never wanted to hurt her! I hate myself so much for going along with it, for even giving that ludicrous plan a second thought. I'm sorry for letting Paul control me, I'm sorry for hurting Trish, I'm sorry for betraying Randy... I'm just so damn sorry..."

"Me too."

Dave gasped, lifting his head with a sniffle and turning to the door. Through his tear-blurred vision, he saw Randy, who was slowly approaching him. He opened his mouth, but Randy shook his head, placing his hand to silence him. He came to a stop before him.

"Dave, I know you," he said. "I know you're not like them. I know you're better than they are. It just... that's not enough. It's not enough to make Trish better, and it's certainly not enough to make what you did okay."

"I know it isn't," Dave replied, lowering his head in utter shame. "I wish you could know how I sorry I am, Randy, for everything."

As Dave glanced back up at him, Randy sighed. He wanted to kill him for what he did, to ring his throat and make him suffer every bit of pain Trish was forced to feel, but he couldn't. He didn't have the energy or will to fight. And on top of that, there was still a small piece of him that needed Dave. Despite the insanity surrounding them, they were still best friends.

He gestured for him to rise from the floor, motioning in his direction. Dave gazed up at him in complete silence for awhile, before slowly picking himself up. He stood before Randy, the emotions of both men running high as they stared at each other with tear filled eyes. They remained that way for some time, reading each other's thoughts, until Randy extended his arms to him - the first one hesitantly, the second tentative as well, until both arms were outstretched. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Dave opened his arms as well, and the two men collapsed into a tight embrace. As ironic as it seemed, they needed each other now more than ever.