Uncommon Sense Chapter 27
By Batistafan
Rating - NC-17 for violence
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to
your site that's fine, just let me know.
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).
Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not
be deemed appropriate for all readers.
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim
to them as they are property of their respective companies of
license. Thank you kindly for not suing.
THIS CHAPTER AND THE CAMEO, IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF EDDIE GUERRERO. GOD BLESS YOU EDDIE!
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"In the absence of love, there is nothing worth fighting for."
-Elijah Wood
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Her perfectly manicured fingernail scraped the blue metal of the United States Postal Service box, as she fumbled with the lid, struggling not to touch more of the package than necessary, and allowing the inner envelope to slide in. Now it could only to be recovered by a postal employee the following morning when the mail would be taken out.
"Thank God that's done." Vicki muttered as she tossed the outer envelope in a trash receptacle several feet away. She hugged her sweater around her thin frame to abate the slight chill and gave silent praises that her segment of Triple H's plan had gone off without a hitch. And it seemed as if Christy's had as well…no one could deny that Nancy had revolted though…and Christy would definitely have gotten the upper hand had not Nancy decided to ram her foot into the petite Diva's chest. She subconsciously ran her fingers over her own collarbone, grimacing at the pain she knew Christy would likely have to endure the next morning if she wasn't nursing a wound already.
Vicki had unfortunately missed most of the aftermath of the match, having gone straightaway out of the arena and across the street, to mail away the documents the moment the belt had been retrieved. She was certain however, that Batista would be contacting a damn good knee surgeon within the hour and that Nancy would not likely have gotten away without some sort of in-ring tussle with Triple H. Vicki could only guess the degree of fury that Triple H must be feeling this very minute and she was thankful that his cannons wouldn't be trained on her.
Slipping back into the parking garage, having resolved to tell anyone who might have wondered about her whereabouts, that she had gone around the corner for food again was a bad idea, being as she currently had none in her hand. Perhaps, she should just tell anyone who asked to go to hell. She was a few thousand dollars richer after being paid for her duties tonight alone, not to mention the amount of money she'd racked up by being pimped out for Triple H's interests, and so she really didn't give a damn what anyone else thought.
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"I did everything you asked me to!" Christy blubbered, her cheeks and eyes swollen with tears, as she held an ice-pack against the front of her chest. And she had done everything to the letter…even though several times during the match she had been solicited by Nancy to do otherwise.
"I just can't help wondering what it was she was constantly telling you…or asking you." Triple H, eyed the auburn-haired beauty with curious amusement. "Do you mind giving me a clue as to what that was all about?"
"I told you!" Christy nearly shouted. "She asked me to help her prevent you from hurting Dave, and I didn't…I did what you told me to." She leaned her head back against the wall, letting the tears drip down the sides of her face. Nancy had been the dissenter in this entire plan, and thank God for that…despite the searing pain in her collarbones, she owed Nancy a debt of gratitude…because in her rationale and her need to do the right thing, she had ended up saving Christy's ass. Christy couldn't deny that Nancy had known that as long as she was unconscious, she could never have been blamed, for allowing Nancy to win the match…not by anyone and certainly not by Triple H. It had been a painful favor and one that Christy hadn't deserved.
Triple had to consent to the fact that she had followed his demands right down to the very second she had been on that turnbuckle…she couldn't have known that Nancy would take her out of the game. Hell, he hadn't completely bargained on Nancy's loyalty to begin with…but never had he banked on her love or her pity being channeled into a rebellion that would slam a monkey wrench in his plan. Despite the glitch, her reputation was about to be ruined and he still had a few more tricks at his disposal, yet. He smiled, coming out of his reverie, "That was a hell of a kick…" He nodded suitably impressed, despite the fact that he had lost his only possible chance at a rematch for the remainder of the time that Batista held the belt.
"You're telling me." Christy grimaced and continued to hold the ice pack to her chest. She felt a measure of relief because he seemed to be unreasonably calm in spite of his loss and in spite of the fact that his intended injury had not hit its mark…had not done the damage to Dave Batista that he'd planned. "You promised me that you'd give me all of the copies of the tape once you were satisfied that I obeyed you…are you?" She placed her palm flat on her knee, praying that he would agree and hand them over.
"Indeed I did say that…" Triple H smiled and with fluid ease, reached into his bag, withdrawing from within another mysterious manila envelope that housed yet another envelope addressed to a major east coast news publication. Obviously he had been prepared to expose whoever turned on him. "Here's your prize." He handed it over, watching her greedily snatch it up, tossing the ice pack aside. She tore into the envelopes with icy, naked fury, retrieving the tape and ripping the black magnetic strands from it mercilessly. Christy didn't call the matter finished until she had set the whole mess of it on fire inside of the metal trash can in Triple H's locker room and watched it quickly shrivel into a singed disarray of ashes and plastic. She then fell onto her knees in front of the trash can, buried her face in her hands and sobbed…the sheer knowledge of how close she had come to losing everything overwhelming her.
"You're welcome…" Triple H laughed callously.
"My prize was supposed to have been Dave…and now that he's not injured, I'll never get the two of them away from one another."
"Whipping boy…" Triple H tossed the remains of his wrist tape into the trash.
"What are you talking about…can't you ever just make anything clear?" She was beginning to feel much braver, now that the tape was smoldering in the trash can. "You always just skirt around the issue."
"See that's the thing about bad shoulders, Christy." He said stuffing his trunks into his bag. "Once they go out, then they're never quite as strong as they were before…don't you think that's why I did what I did in the ring tonight?" He shook his head in disbelief at the difficulty that Christy had in understanding simple strategy, no wonder she had been so easy to manipulate. "I knew all along that she had a bad shoulder and I planned all along to exploit that old injury if she failed me." His lips twisted into a cold smile. "If she's hurt, then don't you think he's hurt…he's in love with her…his focus is out of kilter…he's messed up and you could see it all over his face as soon as he came out of his daze."
"But you mailed those documents away and now he'll find out and leave her, right?" Christy said with a bittersweet regret pooling in her belly. She had wanted to be with Dave, yes…but not as his second choice
"Yes he will, and he'll be kicking himself the entire time, even though he knows he made the right decision…because he loves her…the whole thing's bound to destroy him on a few levels at least…" Triple H smiled thinking of his trump card. "And then that's when I'll swoop in and implement the final stage of my plan."
"There's more?" She could hardly believe her own ears and she couldn't help but wonder who else would be dragged into the mess by past indiscretions.
"There's always more, Christy." He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Did you actually think that I would put everything on the line and not have a back up plan?" He pulled his shirt on and turned toward the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find Mommy Dearest, and make sure she has a ride to the hospital."
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The gurney rolled rapidly down the arena hallway past curious and pitied looks from other wrestlers who currently were in a state of angry unrest after what had just transpired in the ring. Max was no less furious and terrified as he rushed the gurney from one side, his hair sticking straight up and his disheveled clothing still evidencing the black brake dust acquired from his adventure under the bus.
"Nancy!" His voice was panicked and trembling, his eyes riveting furtively from her arm to her pallid face. "Oh God, please be okay." He was in near tears when she opened her eyes and rolled her head to the side to see him. Her arm, though held close to her body by a rolled up towel, was clearly not in top shape and he resisted the urge to pull her off of the stretcher and carry her to safety. As it was, the gurney was moving fairly fast toward the locker room and he could barely keep up. "Stop rollin' the God damned thing, so I can talk!" He growled furiously through his tears, glaring with menace at the trainers and then leaning down, he whispered in her ear. "I stuck my fat ass in the big middle of a place I don't belong…and I don't care if you get mad…" His tears fell on her throat as he hugged her, on the verge of weeping…feeling relief when her free hand came up to squeeze the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I couldn't get there fast enough to stop him…I tried…" Max said referring to his attempt to get through the curtain and being restrained by security. "Everything's gonna be okay…I promise…you just have to trust me." He whispered and then he rose up sniffling and met Dave's stare of pity. "Please take care of her…I can't go in there…and see…I can't be in there when they…" Max's voice broke.
Dave nodded in understanding and compassion. He wasn't so sure that he would be able to stomach watching while they reset her arm either. Dave reassured Max that he wasn't leaving…he knew the two were close, he knew Max was fond of Nancy, but at this moment in time it was more than just attachment…Max loved her. Not in the same way as a lover did, he was sure of that…but nonetheless his love for her was apparent. Max planted a kiss on Nancy's forehead brushing her hair out of the way and after she told him she would be okay, he turned on his heel making a dead bee-line for the wardrobe room.
John Cena appeared from behind the group as the gurney resumed it's trek to the locker room, holding Dave's bag and keys, ever at the ready to help whomever he could, all the while chewing the inside of his cheek angrily.
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Once inside of the locker room, the trainers began to prod and touch the dislocated shoulder in an attempt to assess the damage and that's when Nancy began to panic. Her breathing escalated in fearful anticipation of the pain she knew would come with the relocation of the joint into its socket. Suddenly she was reaching frantically between two trainers with her free hand, in search of the hand she knew she would find…strong and sure, there to steal away the terror. And it was there, grasping just as eagerly for hers in an attempt to soothe her anxiety, Dave stepped between the trainers and in warm liquid tones, he told her to close her eyes.
"Nancy, just be still if you can, okay?" The head Physical therapist, Spencer Whiles spoke and then watched her nod hesitantly. He then gave a subtle signal to Tim that he was ready to proceed.
Dave was half panicked himself, a grimace settling on his features as he watched her clamp her eyes shut, her chin quivering. He knew there would be pain and she must have also, for she held onto his hand tightly trying desperately to right her breathing. He bristled when he saw Spencer lift her arm gently, and then press inward on the joint and upward. Her eyes flew open in shock and pain, her body nearly levitating off of the table and her face contorting, as a very unladylike roar ripped past her lips. The shout was followed by a sob and her trembling hand clenching Dave's so tightly that it turned her knuckles white.
"It's not in…I'm gonna have to try again." Spencer bit off a curse and shook his head as he announced it a low voice, but Nancy heard his comment and in alarm, wrenched her free hand away from Dave's grasp ready to fight off a second agonizing attempt. Nancy pushed at Spencer as he readied himself and tried to rise up from her reclined position with frenzied tears and a round of fearful beseeching.
"Nancy…" Dave caught her flailing hand, trying to speak above the din of her words and he held onto it not allowing her to let go. The therapists were spouting medical jargon, trying to reason with her that she must let them try again, telling her all sorts of dangerous scenarios that could occur should the shoulder be left like this for very long. The situation was very quickly becoming chaotic, and it wasn't helping to convince her to lie still. Dave scowled as he put his hand up in impatience, motioning for the trainer to be quiet and then he leaned in closely above her, tracing the line of her brow with his thumb and speaking in hushed tones. "Nancy, listen to me." He began trying to realign her focus…and his…everyone else in the room held no significance to him, it was only the tremulous shaking of her hand as he held it and the trust mixed with pain and fear in her eyes that he cared about. "They have to put your arm back in. It can't be left like this…Hold my hand, close your eyes and be as still as you can…if they can't get it this time then I won't let them try again." And he meant it.
"It hurts…" She whimpered softly. "…so bad." He nodded as he continued to caress her forehead.
"I know…just once more, okay?" He persuaded her gently, never looking elsewhere but in her eyes and not allowing her look away. Dave continued to lean over her, prepared to brace her body should she buck, as Spencer nodded and motioned for Tim to hold her legs down. "Just hold onto me…shut your eyes." He whispered, as the trainer made a second attempt to reset the shoulder, lifting up and then pushing in. There was no violent screaming this time, only the sharp arch of her back as she strained with a strength that surprised Dave. He swallowed deeply and nearly groaned in pity as he held onto her hand, using his body weight to keep her on the table. The sob of the explosive pain that tore from her throat along with her tearful pleas in his ears, begging for him to make them stop, sliced at his heart and he knew that he couldn't allow them to do anything more to her.
"It's not gonna stay in…I can hear bone on bone." Spencer said in frustration…try as he might, the stubborn joint refused to seat itself in the socket. "Either this has happened before or the muscle around the joint just swelled up too damn fast…she's gonna have to go to the hospital...barring any complications, they might just be able to sedate her and put it back in."
Dave nodded, the frown never leaving his face, as his hand continued to hold hers. "Okay." He reluctantly released her hand as Tim prepared her for the ride.
John Cena who had been fidgeting nervously in the corner of the room, unable to watch, stepped forward and began to shuffle articles of clothing into Dave's hands so he could dress as he spoke to the therapist.
"Ideally I'd like as little jarring as possible so we'll just transport her there in the ambulance…non emergency of course…we need to get a hold of her file so we can contact her family." Spencer scratched the pen across his tablet, scrolling some unknown medical text as Tim stabilized the arm with tape, to minimize the risk of tendon damage.
"She has no living family that I know of." Dave explained quietly to Spencer as he glanced at her from his position across the room. Still speaking in a low voice he said, "I'll just ride along." And then turning to John he spoke. "Would you take my rental car and make sure Max gets to the hospital at some point?" He shook his head trying to clear his mind so he could think straight and then leaned in toward John so he couldn't be heard. "Her things are with mine back at the hotel…could you just reserve another day or so, on that room…I have no clue what we're dealing with."
"Not a problem." John nodded his head as he squeezed Dave Batista's shoulder in encouragement. "Whatever you need, man."
"Just mainly, I need Max there…I don't know anything about her medical history, and he might. I'm sure the doctors are gonna have a lot of questions, so could you just…find him." Dave leaned over so Tim could apply butterfly tape to his head laceration until he could get stitches.
John Cena nodded, taking the keys in hand and stepping out into the hallway, his anger over the situation threatening to overtake him. "Yep…" He said to himself. "I'll find Max, as soon as I take care of something else first."
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Chris Jericho/Irvine tossed his own bags into the back of his car, sighing in frustration over the escapade in the ring. It had clearly gone too far…it had been somewhat like the match he'd participated in with Nancy. Seeing it on the monitor had given him a definite insight into his own foolishness. It didn't matter whether she had thrown his keys in the trash as Christy had said…he was mature enough to have dealt with it better…his wife had reminded him of that during a recent tongue lashing along with a few nights of being banned to the sofa.
As it stood, everyone who had a basic knowledge of how the business worked could see that what had been done tonight in the ring was over the top…and it certainly hadn't needed to be. Glancing across the garage toward the row of gleaming sports cars, he could clearly pick out the one that belonged to Triple H…the Ferrari 360 Modena…a bright yellow demon on wheels. And evidently, he wasn't the only one who had spotted the car and taken a keen interest in it. At present, he could make out the stocky figure of the recently drafted WWE Champion stalking the mechanical wonder…something long and stout dangling from his hand.
Chris walked forward out of the shadows and the two men exchanged glances…both having appeared to share the same opinion about the bedlam that had just transpired. Chris returned the young champion's knowing smile and held his finger up as if to say 'one moment'…he rounded the back of his Bentley, and popping the trunk he reached inside, his hand finding the cold carbon shaft of his Calloway 9 iron. His fingers wrapped around it and he raised it up in the air, assessing the expensive club with pride and then held the head of it to his lips and blew an imaginary speck of dust off of it.
John nodded appreciatively as he locked gazes with Chris, the two having approached the front end of the spotless, shining, canary-yellow Modena as if it were a downed animal and the two of them pack leaders ready for the kill. John Cena then held his hand out in a gesture of kindness. "Be my guest."
Chris smiled and returned the gesture. "You were here first John…I must insist." His voice was oily, highly schooled and polite...as if he had suggested that John take first turn in a game of chess, rather than initiating the brutal anarchy that the two were currently contemplating.
"Insist on what, Ese?" The distinct Mexican drawl of one of WWE's most elite talent, drew the attention of the two men. Eddie Guerrero sauntered toward the men, boots tapping lightly on the concrete floor of the parking garage a slightly reproachful look touching his features, with his bag draped casually over one shoulder. "You're not gonna do what I think you're gonna do, are you?" his accent laced through his question as he tilted his head to the side and motioned to the car with one hand and then to Chris' club with the other.
"Eddie, hi." Chris said nervously, as a small wave of guilt lapped at his conscience. He had almost forgotten about the SmackDown Talent that had attended the joint pay-per-view, so engrossed was he, in the task at hand.
"You know…" Eddie said shaking his head reprovingly and regarding the two men through hooded eyes, "From where I was standing it looked like you two were planning on bashin' up this car…" He grimaced as if the mere thought of the plan had somehow inflicted pain, his tone lifting on the last word of his sentence. "And this…" He said running his fingers over the smooth hood. "Is a nice car." He smiled and nodded his head in appreciation of the stunning vehicle.
John Cena, bit his lip and looked away, shuffling the lead pipe behind his back as if somehow doing that simple act would make the pipe invisible. He felt as if he'd just been caught red-handed by the principle after tagging the side of the school building.
Eddie scratched his head and then glancing once more toward Chris' golf club he finally announced. "Sorry, Ese…but I can't let you do it." He shook his head, clicking his tongue in scolding. His eyes held a twinkle as he lifted the trunk lid of the car next to the Modena, tossing his bag inside. "I can't let you ruin a five-hundred dollar golf club, man…What kinda friend would I be?" He looked at Chris as if he should have known better, and then he reached inside of the trunk and pulled out an aluminum baseball bat. "Walmart…$12.99, holmes!" He handed the bat to Chris who smiled, in exchange for the club, hitched his thumb toward the arena door and announced with his trademark smirk, "I'll keep my eye on the door."
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The ambulance rolled peacefully through the streets, no lights or sirens, on its way to the hospital. The EMT, a small slender woman in her mid thirties was currently sliding the metal shaft of an intravenous line into the vein of Nancy's uninjured arm.
"Big stick, Sweety…" She said and found the vein with practiced ease. "I'm just gonna do this now so you don't get stuck by one of those crabby night nurses." She joked, winking at Nancy. "Hurt anywhere else?" The nurse asked, checking her vitals and attaching a pulse-ox monitor on her finger.
Nancy shook her head, but couldn't help but be reminded by those words of the New Mexico hotel room. She shut her eyes and lay still as her body rocked gently along with the movement of the ambulance. Opening them again, she found the nurse, motioning discreetly for Dave to lean over so she could examine his head.
"Couple of stitches…no big deal." The nurse said as she handed him an ice pack which he placed on the quadriceps muscle, just above his knee.
The sight of the already darkening bruise made Nancy want to vomit. How close had he come to a career ending injury because of her lies? She wanted to tell him she was sorry…sincerely…wanted to ask why he was evenstill here, why he hadn't gone on to the hotel and left her to deal with everything all alone. The smallest glimmer of hope still burned inside of her and it flared up when she felt his lips on her brow. He spoke no words, held no air of anger or frustration…she couldn't help but wonder if he had known all along. He had certainly been able to deflect many of the attempts to injure him throughout the match, besides the fact that he hadn't been open to hearing the truth from her…but more than that…it had been the look on his face when she had pulled the belt from the hook. Bittersweet triumph was all she could equate it to…his wounded smile and the relief in his eyes as he had stayed on the ground led her to believe that he had somehow known.
If that was the case, then she had a lot of explaining to do, especially since by tomorrow morning her entire past would be splattered all over the tabloids and other checkout line trash-rags. "Dave…I have to tell you something." She tried again to tell him and again she was gently rebuffed, when he shook his head and encouraged her to relax. "It's important…I have to tell you now, because tomorrow it'll be too late." He cut her off.
"I already know…" Dave told her. "Not everything…but I know he's blackmailing you…I know he's probably already mailed everything out, whatever 'everything' is. I knew before the match." He breathed out heavily, another pulse of emotional pain hitting him when he thought of it.
"How did you know?" She might have had a guess as to when he had discovered.
He leaned over her, unable to go very long without touching some part of her, he grazed the back of his knuckles over her cheek. "I knew when I took you in the closet." He whispered, feeling the moisture of a tear on his knuckles. "I meant what I said in there." He clenched his jaw instinctively.
Before anything more could be exchanged, the ambulance came to a halt and the shuffling of bodies forced him to break free from her, leaving her to wonder which one of the many things he'd whispered in the midst of touching her that he'd meant, but he was sliding out of the back of the ambulance and yet again, her questions along with her explanations would have to wait until…later.
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Max made a mad dash for the parking garage, with Nancy's bags in tow and a tightly guarded secret folded and stuffed deep inside of her purse, upon which he currently had a frightening death grip. His eyes were swollen along with the walls of his throat, his brain unable to comprehend the magnitude of what he had just been reading. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was willing to exercise the force of a linebacker to get out of the arena and to the hospital all the while protecting her secret.
He swiftly traversed the halls and reached the door in no time, pushing it open with unwarranted force, welcoming the smog scented air that hit him like the blast of a civil war field gun. He had knocked someone out of the way in the process and upon the realization that it was Eddie Guerrero, he swallowed, prepared to apologize. The breaking of glass and the loud sound of metal upon metal brought his gaze up to the sight of two wrestlers venting their rage on a yellow Ferrari.
John glanced up for a split second before bringing the lead pipe down on the driver's side mirror, detaching it from the door in a heart beat. "Be with ya…in a minute…Max!" He said through a grunt of exertion as he swung yet again causing the windshield to spider-web, crackling as soon as the lead pipe connected. "You want a crack at this?" John offered Max as he swung upward destroying a headlight.
"Is this Triple H's baby?" Max asked, walking toward the pandemonium knowing the answer already.
"Yep…" Chris confirmed, slamming the aluminum bat forcefully into the other front headlight, smiling when it shattered. "It is."
"Then, yeah…I do." He dropped Nancy's bag at his feet and turned to Eddie. "Here hold this." He handed the beaded handbag to Eddie, who looked at the purse in puzzlement, but shrugged his shoulders and held it between his thumb and forefinger.
Max's belly jiggled slightly as he walked with furious determination toward the front of the car, accepting John Cena's offer of the pipe. He first bounced the tip of the pipe off of the front grille, watching as it creased mercilessly, and then in a gesture of athleticism that surprised both men, Max jumped onto the hood of the sports car and hammered the pipe repeatedly into the windshield until it gave completely…he was not only spent, but weeping with his anger. Loud curses and threats flew out of his mouth like missiles, as he struck the top of the car over and over again, every memory of Vicki coming to mind…her lies, Triple H's lies and the things he had read in the papers he was protecting…all feeding him for the task at hand.
He heaved the pipe one last time and then let it fall from his hands, bouncing off the badly dented hood, clattering to the concrete. He was weak and saddened and livid, but at least this was some measure of vengeance…even if Triple H would just go out the next day and buy another car.
"Max…" John Cena said calmly as he reached up for him. "Come down Max." He wasn't surprised at the anger Max felt, hell, half of the people that knew Triple H were angry with what he had done. He was, however blown away by the sheer rage with which Max had destroyed the biggest portion of the car. It was as if something inhuman had driven him to it, something else that the other two men had no clue of…something more than just Max's usual propensity to get revenge for his friend. "Come on…let's go to the hospital." John said to the portly man in a friendly, gentle tone meant to clear away some of the tears that he saw falling. Max nodded, palming his tears away and as Chris picked up the evidence of their satisfying vandalism, he approached Eddie who was still holding the handbag and guarding the door.
"Here's your purse, holmes." Eddie said quietly, smiling and patting Max on the back, hefting Nancy's bags into Max's other hand and then helping to usher him into Dave's rental car and get moving himself before anyone else came upon the wreckage.
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Once inside the hospital, the disorder of admittance, the absence of her driver's license and the sheer confusion over nurse's questions about her medical history, that he simply could not answer, had him half tempted to put his fist through a wall. The only answer he'd been able to give with any degree of surety was how she'd received her injury, and only because the referee had told him…Dave was remiss to admit to the doctor that he'd been unconscious when it happened. Nancy had already been wheeled back to an exam room after the doctor's promise that he wasn't going to try to reinsert the joint. He'd been soothing and very reassuring as soon as he'd learned the nature of the injury and determined that she was vehemently against any further attempts to reset it if she had to be fully awake through it.
At the present moment, he was trying to relate the specifics of the X-ray findings to Dave, who was leaning nervously forward on a chair in the waiting room.
"It's only a matter of getting the joint back into the socket, there's no tendon damage and very little soft tissue bruising." The doctor began. "There is however, a fair amount of swelling and some random pieces of floating cartilage…Is she an athlete?"
"No, not…I guess other than a couple of wrestling matches…I'd say no." He lifted his eyebrows in uncertainty.
"Well, I wondered, because after speaking with Spencer Whiles…I'm apt to think this has happened more than a couple of times…the reason I asked if she was an athlete was because of the amount of wear on the socket and rotator cuff and sometimes that's typical in baseball and softball pitchers…men and women both."
"She's not a pitcher." Dave said chewing his lip, holding off a smile when he thought of how she'd had thrown her shoes at the bus the night they'd first formally met.
"I think the best plan of action is going to be to put her under and surgically reinsert the shoulder, scrape the bone so we can get it to bleed and form a new type of cartilage, and then we can remove the floating cartilage…very simple, typical surgery…necessary though, because she won't let me try to put it back in while she's awake." The doctor clicked his ink pen and slipped it into his pocket.
"I knew she wouldn't let you try." Dave said, images of her ready to fight the young doctor off played over in his mind and it made him smile. "When do you plan to operate?"
"Well obviously I'd like to do it sooner than later, but I need a second form of consent…she's being prepped right now on her own consent." The doctor held out the clipboard and slipped his pen into Dave's hand. "This is only in the case of an emergency…or if something goes wrong and someone else has to make decisions. Obviously there's risk in any surgery…but we don't expect complications. So if you could just sign where it says blood relation, next of kin…then I can get started"
Dave rolled the pen in his fingers and shook his head. "We're not married…" He explained.
"That's a problem then." The young physician explained.
That very moment, a young female nurse poked her head out from around the triage desk, having just received word from the O.R. "Doctor Davis, they've administered the anesthesia for your shoulder patient, if you're ready."
"That's a really big problem, then." He turned to Dave, chewing his lip. "Parents?" He offered.
"Her parents are dead." Dave said, trying to think of a way to cajole the doctor into accepting his signature, or a convenient way to scare him into accepting it.
And then like an answered prayer, Max came skidding around the corner hauling a handful of bags on one arm, along with Nancy's purse tucked tightly under the other.
"Is she okay? Did they fix it?" Max sputtered, his face swollen and his eyes jaundiced. "Can I see her?" He looked at the doctor who regarded his shoddy appearance with clear confusion.
Before Dave could answer any one of his flurry of inquiries, the doctor piped up.
"Don't tell me you're her husband." Dr. Davis was just as confused as everyone else and the fact that his team had prematurely administered anesthesia, having been under his mistaken impression that the tall wrestler was her husband, had him rethinking his entire medical career.
"Well, no…why?" Max panicked, practically buckling at the knees. "She's not dead is she?" He croaked.
"No…Max." Dave held onto his arm to keep him from falling. "She has to have surgery to fix her shoulder and she's already under…they have to have a signature from next of kin or they can't operate, can you do that for her?" His words were calm and measured, masking his internal conflict and fear.
"Yeah, yeah whatever…give me the pen." He said shaking off the cloak of dread and grasping at the clipboard in the doctor's hand.
"If you're not her husband, then you're…her…brother?" The doctor probed, still confused.
"No, I'm her assistant." Max said wagging his fingers motioning for the doctor to hand over the clipboard.
The doctor, shook his head incredulously. "She has an assistant…how ironic is that…I don't even have an assistant…I'm sorry but unless you're related to her by blood or marriage, or unless you're her power of attorney, then I can't accept your signature."
"Just gimme the damned thing…nobody's gonna sue you!" Max barked furiously.
"Look." Dave began, putting himself in front of Max. He hadn't ever seen the jolly man lose his cool and he wasn't sure that Max might not decided to body slam the doctor, when all Dave was concerned about was getting someone in there to operate before the anesthesia wore off and forced the whole thing to be postponed. "Max, here…has sort of lived with Nancy for a couple of years at least…he's the next best thing to a relative." He offered.
Dr. Davis tilted his head, his mouth popping open. He was more confused about the odd trio than he had been when the cadaver from his med school exam had disappeared when he'd gone to the bathroom…a well orchestrated prank executed by his professor. "Okay, let me get this straight…" He began. "She came here with you…but she lives with him." He closed his eyes, contorting his face into a mass of bewilderment. "Never mind…I don't wanna know…but somebody's gonna have to sign a 'power of attorney' and get it notarized…and soon because I can't anesthetize her again for 48 hours if this wears off."
"Whatever…I'll write it on a damned cocktail napkin…just tell me what you want me to write." Max pushed past Dave Batista as the doctor directed him to the triage desk.
"Dr. Davis…I have a blank power of attorney, and Cindy's a notary." The tall blonde nurse announced, having listened with sympathy to the conversation. She put her hand on Max's shoulder as she guided his hand to the lines he had to sign, and then smiled at him squeezing his hand as Cindy stamped the paper and put her signature to it.
Dr. Davis snatched it up with a swift "thanks" and instructed the nurse to make the remaining two-thirds of the odd trio comfortable. She was preparing to lead the two men down the hall, to a private room for families whose relatives were in surgery and then turning to Dave, she reiterated that he still needed to have the wound on his head looked at. "After I know she's okay I will." Was his dismissive response.
"Sure thing." The nurse responded, turning to Max to ask if she could get him anything.
"No, thanks." Max refused her offer, in a hurry to seclude himself with Dave Batista so that he could give him the information that he knew he deserved to have knowledge of.
"I'll check on you in a bit." She told Max, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Once inside of the empty room, Dave sank down into a chair and let out an exhausted, frustrated groan as he watched Max fumble with Nancy's hand bag. "What are you doing?" He asked irritably.
"I…have to show you something…but I have to ask you a question before I do." Max said, his hand foraging through the bag. "It's about Nancy."
"Max, I already know that she has something bad in her past…and unfortunately I also know that it's in the mail on the way to some newspaper." Dave said ruefully.
"Not exactly…" Max said rummaging through her bag, his hands clasping around the neatly folded stack of documents that he had earlier commandeered and hidden. "It might be on the way to a newspaper, but whoever opens that envelope's just gonna get a handful of dress patterns." He confirmed. "I overheard…I mean I sort of eavesdropped and then I locked Vicki…I kinda butted in again…anyway." He stuttered and then he held up the papers, his eyes filling with tears. He began to speak, his voice wavering.
"I sort of knew that Nancy had something that she was hiding…I thought…she had bad dreams and she talked in her sleep…" Max explained as he attempted to clear his throat and ducked his head. "But I never thought that it was…this…I mean I wasn't gonna read it but she's my best friend…" His voice quivered. "I was just gonna set them on fire and help her keep her secret without even looking at it, but I'm fuckin' nosey and…I wish I hadn't…"
"You lost me." Dave sat forward, unable to quash the dreadful curiosity bubbling within him. "Does Triple H know you intercepted this?" He asked motioning with his fingers.
"No, and neither does Vicki, and I really don't give a shit." Max said swiping at his tears.
"This is priceless." Dave laughed ironically, softly…Nancy was clumsy, had horrible timing, seemed to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and yet in the past few weeks she'd had more luck thrown her way than anyone had a right to. He couldn't help but think that there had to be some sort divine intervention on her behalf.
"It's really important that you see this…I know she lied to you…hell she lied to me too, but I know if you read it you'll understand." Max explained, but before handing the private documents over to Dave, he had to know. "Do you love her? Because if you don't…then there's no reason for you to see these, and no reason for you to even be here…I'll just take her back to Colorado with me and save you the trouble." Max's face hardened into an uncharacteristic seriousness. "If you don't love her, then I appreciate your efforts but I'll take it from here. This is the only copy and I have no intention of it going anywhere." He was banking on honesty, and he found that he was disappointed at the mere thought of her being abandoned by the Champion. He held the papers up like a torch of illumination, waiting for the answer.
Dave watched the man, his own thoughts and emotions rattling around inside of his soul like sharp tacks. His inner animal, who usually had a sarcastic retort every time he thought of love, remained strangely silent. "What do you think?" He asked lucidly, the seriousness on his face matching that of the man in front of him.
"I gotta know, man." Max told him, holding the papers, unwavering. He required it, had to hear it and believe it or else he would walk right out and burn the papers in the parking lot, cover her indiscretions and take her abuses to the grave without a second thought for the tall champion's feelings.
Dave knew what he'd told Nancy in the broom closet, he could remember verbatim, all of the promises he'd made, he could put an exact physical pain to the emotions he'd experienced when he'd thought she'd betrayed him…he could clearly recall her body's response when he'd told her he loved her mere hours ago…he also couldn't deny the way he had felt when he'd seen her rebel against Triple H's tyranny and lay Christy out cold, so that she could retrieve a belt that meant far less to him than she did.
"I do love her." He said it, and the weight of the world that he had been carrying slipped away as if it had never been there…and though an apprehensive anticipation began to settle in his belly at the thought of reading those papers…he knew that no matter what they revealed, he would never be able to push her to the wayside. He knew he could never call it quits…whatever it was, he would deal with it, because he did love her, no matter how she felt about him.
Max swallowed hard and handed the papers over to Dave Batista, whose muscular hands curled around them. He believed him…and as he watched Dave wander out of the waiting room and down the hall in the direction of the cafeteria, he was sure, that for once Nancy would be glad he had interfered.