Uncommon Sense

by batistafan

Can a plan by Triple H aimed at destroying Batista's life and career be stopped before it's too late? And will a hot romance with Batista help a shattered woman regain her life or put her right back in harm's way. Sequel in progress.

31. Chapter 30

Uncommon Sense Chapter 30
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.

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"The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn."

-David Russell

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Vicki was borderline livid as she stomped furiously down the hallway, through the crowded arena, weaving in and out of various staff and miscellaneous unknown persons in her pursuit of the one human being upon whom she intended to vent every last droplet of her rage. Since the very moment that she had entered the arena, the biggest buzz from everyone that had stopped to interact with her was that she had been sleeping with Max Hadaway. It was all over the place and people were coming out of the veritable wood-work with congratulations as well as confused inquiries about a possible impending engagement. Of course, there had been laughing and veiled mocking from some, kudos from others as well as genuine slack-jawed appraisal of her, from nearly everyone.

Whipping the door of the Wardrobe room open with ferocious intensity, the rush of air from the door slung her silk scarf past her face and she nearly tore it off in annoyance. She scanned the room rapidly with a brutal gaze, prepared to lock onto her target, but Max was nowhere in sight. Vicki slammed the door shut as she walked back out and upon spinning around, she ran directly into her assistant Paulo.

He caught his balance and straightened his shirt. "You know…I thought he was gay." Paulo assessed with a perplexed expression, lifting his fingers to his dainty chin. "But you two are like really an item, huh?"

"No…we are not an item!" Vicki ground out in frustration, knowing instantly to whom he was referring. "Where did you hear about this?" She asked venomously, her voice strained and angry, one elegant finger jabbing Paulo's chest for emphasis.

"I'm not sure who blew the whistle on the two of you, but everyone's talking about it." Paulo shrugged. "It's no big deal, Max is doing damage control as it is…I guess."

"You guess!" She sneered, half tempted to rip the delicate goatee from his face. "What kind of damage control?" Her eyes narrowed and her cupid's bow lips thinned with her wrath.

"Well, he didn't exactly deny it…he just said that the two of you were in love and that's the sort of thing that happens when two people are in love…but I know for a fact that he asked a couple of the guys from the back not to make a big deal out of it, so he must really have some sense of respect for you."

"Really?" She repeated, derisively.

"He mentioned to Shane Helms that even though you had been with practically everyone on the roster, he was still in love with you...Shane gave Max his condolences." Paulo affirmed, snickering and brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve. "Exactly how many people from RAW have you slept with?" He finally inquired eyeballing the brunette. He wasn't overtly concerned about her sexual exploits for his own interests, but merely because knowing would help him narrow down which male wrestlers might be untouchable for him in the future.

Vicki slammed her hand flat against Paulo's chest, pushing him to the side and out of the way completely, amidst his amused protest. She was determined to find Max and tear his head completely off of his shoulders, with her bare hands. And then she might even carry the damned thing around with her for awhile as a warning symbol to anyone who might contemplate asking her about her sex life again. Even her feet made angry sounds on the floor as she stormed down the hallway.

She body-checked a sound man, sending him along with his 'boom mic', clattering into the nearest wall. Vicki then pressed her palm forcibly against the door to the catered food area preparing to enter. The door flung open, barely missing contact with Victoria, who raised an eyebrow in warning. But Vicki matched her admonishing glare, nostrils flared, and then stalked past the Diva until she reached the table, where Max was currently regaling a group of wrestlers with tales of his last visit to the gym.

Several heads turned, signaling that someone had approached the table, and Max spun around, knowing without question who it would be. A devious smile lit his face as his condescending gaze alighted upon the slender brunette barracuda.

"Vicki, Baby." Max emphasized the word 'baby', and then his expression morphed from disgust to one of endearment for the purpose of suiting the crowd. His arms went out to his sides as he regarded Vicki's taciturn and confused expression. "Let's talk." His suggestion floated out, a stiff undercurrent in his tone. He then turned to Stacy who was apparently still enthralled with his story, and wiping the tears of mirth from the corner of her eyes. "Would you guys excuse me? I have to give my 'lady' some attention…she gets lonely easily…fiercely jealous, even."

"What the fu--" Vicki was cut off her tirade instantly quashed by the firm, insistent pressure of Max's thumb and forefinger squeezing her elbow, as he led her away from the table in his grasp.

"Uh, uh….not here, sweetheart." He whispered through clenched teeth and once the pair was out of earshot, he spun her around, one hand on her waist and the other clasping her slender fingers, as if he were inclined to dance with her even without the aid of music. By all outward representations Max appeared enamored of Vicki…yet inside he was unreservedly revolted and the emergence of her acrid nature had him half tempted to pick her up and toss her head-first into the nearest trash can. "We have to keep up our image, don't we?"

"Is that what you call it?" Vicki hissed, as he pulled her into a feigned embrace and shuffled his feet quite elegantly despite his size, pretending to dance with her past the catered tables, amidst a chorus of 'How cute' and 'Aren't they in love?'

"You mean that's not what we've been doing this whole time?" Max smiled knowingly. "Keeping up an image? Making people think that we're something we're actually not?" He pretended ignorance of her escapades.

"You told everyone we were sleeping with each other." She whispered fiercely, as he dipped her willow thin body backward. "How honorable of you."

"Correction." Max said, holding her head inches above the floor in the dip and then snapping her back upward, bringing their faces millimeters apart he continued the phantom waltz. "I only told one person." His eyes glimmered with contempt as he suppressed a grin, and fought to retain the last vestiges of his patience.

"Who the hell might that be?" Vicki demanded as he spun her underneath his arm to the tune of a song that John Cena and several other wrestlers had now begun to hum comically for the benefit of the dancers.

Max smiled brightly as he nodded obligingly to the crowd of onlookers who were under the impression that he and his 'lady-love' were having a romantic moment. And then he spoke softly against the flesh above Vicki's ear. "I told Maria."

Vicki nearly came uncorked. Her face instantly became a mass of angry lines and angles "You told her?" She whispered angrily, her lips instantly forming a thing tight line. Max spun Vicki again, facing her away from the crowd so that no one would see how badly her expression had contorted. "She couldn't keep her mouth shut if she were in a coma!" Her voice was a low and putrefied growl, as he gripped her hands tightly with his so she couldn't escape his embrace.

"I know." He admitted and grinned devilishly. "Isn't it wonderful?" He held fast to her tiny hand and whittle thin waist as she made a slight move to back away, and pulled her up against him, sashaying to the left and then to the right, all the while, prompted by cheers and accolades from the staff and wrestlers.

"You're apalling." Vicki sneered as he pulled her around, spinning her body effortlessly behind a table and then past a chair.

"Nope," He tugged her close again for another mock embrace and whispered brutally, furiously into her ear. "What you did, to help ruin Nancy was appalling…lying to me was appalling…what I did, tonight, was something you had coming!" His whisper was no longer laughable…it held a decidedly dangerous threat. "And if I didn't believe in salvation by grace, I'd bank on your works landing you in hell, right along with your conspirator!"

"So this is how you get back at me? Do you think that telling everyone we had sex is gonna gain you some favor with the boys in the back…or with Stacy or Maria?" She asked condescendingly, practically gritting her teeth. "No one wants to fuck a slovenly, overweight, no-talent, witless ass-kisser, even if he does have a trust fund."

He couldn't help but laugh. "And yet…you did." His remark slashed straight through her confident façade and he saw her blanch.

"I was paid to fuck you." She said heartlessly, but discreetly so that no one but Max would hear.

"Ouch…such cruelty from such beauty." Max smiled again, deflecting her admission. "But here's the good part…you did fuck me…more than once…and yes, you were certainly paid…" He stepped forward and then backward, pulling her all the while in the dance. "But you're forced to keep that detail a secret…you can never ever tell anyone who paid you and why you were paid?…because if you do, then 'Mr. Stephanie' will be in big trouble, facing jail time…for stealing federal documents, and so will you." He felt her bony body stiffen in his embrace. "Oh…that's right…you didn't know I knew about that." He harpooned her with a stare of mock concern, before continuing "…and if you think good old Stephanie McMahon would risk letting her hubby go to jail, over some unverifiable claim from the make-up artist, then you're dumber than you accused me of being…she'll bury you under a pile of corporate bullshit so high, that even your over-inflated 'sense of self' won't be able to see the light of day." He chuckled against her ear as he held her close, spinning around the floor of the catering area. "And because of that, people are always gonna think that you had sex with me just because you wanted a little bit of the 'Big Max'!"

Vicki was seething, and half tempted to stomp on his foot with her boot so he would release her. "If you're planning on blackmailing me…If you think I'm having sex with you again…you can forget it! There's not enough currency on the face of the planet to compensate me for enduring that again!" Her voice was low as she faked a smile for the benefit of Sean Michaels who had walked in for a quick sandwich.

"Vicki?" Max began, licking his lips for emphasis and whispering. "You're a whore…and I'm so disgusted at the thought of what I did with you that I would sooner reenact scenes of 'Deliverance' with Gene Snitsky, before I'd ever dream of fucking you again." He glared satisfactorily at her shocked expression and then twirled her around to face the crowd of onlookers, abruptly ceasing the dance. "Looks like we have a great audience, so take a bow, Doll." He said out loud, as the small crowd began to clap for the dancers, none of them having heard a single word of the heated conversation.

Vicki extracted her hand from his, "Why don't you take a bow!" She snapped, placing both of her hands on his shoulders, and then raising her knee up, she planted it forcefully into Max's groin. She then swept low for a bow from the stunned crowd and whirled around exiting the room in a flurry of cheap perfume and her own furious expletives.

Max, knelt low, his manhood throbbing and a grunt on his lips, but then he rose up as much dignity as he could muster and faced the stunned group. "Thank you." He waved in appreciation, his face beet red and his voice a guttural squawk. "I'll be here all week." He joked through his pained expression, mimicking a comedian.

"Oh, my God…Are you okay?" Stacy Keibler leaned down and grasped Max's forearm after rushing from the table to his side. "I can't believe she did that…Is she mad at you for something? Can I help you up?"

"Yeah…" Max groaned. "I think if you could just, maybe help me to the Wardrobe…I'll be fine." He made a good show of embellishing the pain he was in, leaning helplessly against the comforting side of the tall blonde Diva, and as the two prepared to exit he cast a wink and a conspiratorial grin toward John Cena, who simply shook his head in amusement, and gave him the thumbs up sign behind Stacy's back.

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The bright morning sunshine, glimmering through the unobstructed wall of windows pulled her from a restful sleep, but it was the irresistible smell of freshly brewed Columbian coffee, that had her raising her head up and placing her feet on the floor. Nancy searched the near vicinity for her clothing, then the walk-in closet with no results and after resigning herself to the theory that Dave would probably continue hiding them from her for years to come, she tugged the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her body, stepping out into the hallway.

Nancy smiled, when she peeked over the balcony and found him in the kitchen, leaning casually against the edge of the counter, reading the newspaper. She couldn't help but notice that he was awfully overdressed for morning paper reading, with his black slacks and a navy dress shirt, his tie not yet knotted, but draped around his collar as if he'd lost interest in it when the paper had been delivered. His suit coat was folded carefully over the back of a chair next to the dining table and his suitcase and duffel bag were packed and waiting obediently in the front entryway. Something was going on…he had somewhere to go…and suddenly Nancy felt a strange sense of urgency to find out.

Nancy found it hard to drag the air into her lungs when he raised his gaze up to the top of the landing and she caught a glimpse of his face, always intense, as if he could see inside her soul…always handsome. A grin of anticipation fulfilled played on his lips and he pulled the glasses off and tossed them on top of the counter, curling his finger so she would come down.

"You hid my clothes again." Nancy softly accused, as she arranged the bottom of the sheet behind her so she could descend the stairs.

A short laugh escaped him when he thought of how he had slid both suitcases under Audrey's bed to continue the running joke of keeping her clothing hostage until Nancy gave him what he wanted. "And yet, still you seem to find a way to cover yourself up…I guess I'll have to start hiding the bed linens too." He poured a cup of coffee for her and then sat in the dining chair, motioning for her to sit on his lap.

A dangerous proposition he knew, considering the diversion that she presented, clad only in the sheet, with the thick coil of curls he loved trailing down her barely covered back. But he had resolved to tell her what he must and now that he could see her glancing at his suitcases as she palmed the warm cup and nestled into his lap, he knew that he had to get the words out. His hand slid beneath the sheet of its own accord to rest against the warm, smooth flesh of her thigh. He listened to her sigh after she took a drink of the coffee and then she started the conversation before he could think of how to begin it himself.

"Gourmet meals at night and coffee in the morning…" She pretended curious contemplation and placed the cup on the table. "I might just never leave…" She joked lacing one arm over his shoulder, grazing the skin at the nape of his neck. "But part of me thinks all of this is just culinary bribery…and that you're buttering me up because you want something."

He laughed, because he was nervous and because like always, she could see right through him. She was waiting on it…the explanation…he could tell by the way her light eyes searched his for an answer. She adjusted herself slightly, and he felt the curve of her bottom press against his groin, sending a jolt of heat through him…making him suddenly thankful that his time constraints would force him to take action, before he lost himself in thoughts of things he couldn't indulge…not right now anyhow. "You're right…I do want something." He curled his other hand around her hip willing it to behave as he spoke. "I got a phone call from Vince McMahon yesterday afternoon." He said, as she sipped her coffee. "They're restructuring the rosters on both brands in order to bring up the ratings. It happens every year in the form of the draft lottery." He watched her nod. "John Cena was brought over to RAW…Randy Orton was sent to SmackDown…"

"I remember Randy…" Nancy mused. "I constantly had to fix his clothes."

The sudden admission of that brought back to mind a comment made once by Randy during Dave's time in Evolution about the Wardrobe girl having a nice ass. The memory suddenly irked him and brought forth a subconscious possessive reaction manifested in the form of his own hand curving firmly around her backside. "Yeah….I know." He said wryly as he arched an eyebrow and continued. "At any rate, Vince offered me a proposal to move to SmackDown and take the Championship with me." He felt her stiffen. "I accepted his offer."

The air in her lungs caught and held for what seemed like an eternity, as her eyes probed his for some indication that he might be joking. "If you go to SmackDown…" She said, willing her voice to be steady. "We'll never see each other." Was that what he'd wanted…to let her down easily?

"I know…" Dave concurred nodding. "Believe me I've already thought about that and come up with a solution." Out of reaction, he leaned in and pressed his lips teasingly against the skin of her upper arm.

"You're not going?" She inserted hopefully, seeing that as the only solution in her mind for the problem.

He chuckled, "No that's not it…" his words were muffled by her skin where his lips remained, 'Here comes the hard part' he silently warned himself. "I think you should come with me."

Nancy shook her head. "There's not an opening for me on SmackDown, unless you plan on plugging me as a Diva…in which case my answer's 'No'." She smiled, playing again with the hair at the thick nape of his neck.

"I know that." Dave said, relieved that she had relaxed again somewhat. "Here's what I came up with…" He explained, tracing a line up and down her thigh with his disobedient hand. "You can quit your job on RAW and stay right here while you rehab your shoulder…there's a clinic down the street." He began to rattle off his plan, all the while finding distraction in her skin, her hair, the cursed sheet. "It's reputable, I already called your doctor and this is the one he recommended."

Funny he'd talked to her doctor…she hadn't seen the man nor spoken to him since dismissal, she prepared to interject her opinion…to tell him that she might as well stay on RAW and use the trainers, but he continued through his stream of well thought out solutions and his physical recreations, without stopping.

"When your rehab is done…six weeks at most, then you can just pack up and come on the road with me." Dave seemed satisfied with his solution, his face holding no trace of doubt that this was the right thing for the both of them to do.

"I can't just quit my job. Max needs me--" Nancy attempted to clarify, but he interrupted, with his lips, those hands…his words.

"Max is a big boy…I'm sure he'll do just fine taking over your position and I can't think of a better person to trust with the job." His teeth scraped her collarbone gently, as he attempted to gain access to what he knew was hidden beneath the sheet.

"I just committed to design a new line of fashion for Stephanie McMahon. I can't back out of that." Nancy groaned, trying to push his face up from between her breasts.

"Well, you didn't sign the contract, yet…you're not bound legally and I know if you just tell her that your life's going a different direction now, she'll understand."

"And which direction is that?" Nancy asked, waiting…on what…she didn't know. The familiar feeling of someone else taking her life by the horns and leading it into unknown territory washed over her and she began to feel nauseous.

"Same direction I'm going, I hope." He said raising his eyebrows. "You love me right? This is better for the both of us, trust me…I can't focus on what I need to be doing on SmackDown, if I'm constantly worried about what may or may not be happening to you on RAW and as long as I know you're here safe or somewhere in the same arena or even in a hotel near the venue I can breathe easy. I won't have my head in the game if I'm wondering where you are all the time." He wished his admission could have been eloquent as his rehearsal had been, wished it could have included the one important thing he knew she needed, but she was the one woman in his life whose presence rattled him and the mere thought of her rejection scared the hell out of him and so he'd left out the one thing he'd planned on asking her.

'Then why leave Raw at all?' She thought to herself, but didn't have the courage to ask. His answer hadn't been what she'd wanted to hear, hadn't been what she thought he'd wanted to say. "Dave, I don't think I can quit my job, I just--" again her words were cut short.

"I'm not saying you'd have to be jobless…Seattle is full of design firms, you could get a job later if you want…or not…the little details aren't important right now…we can hash those out another time." She started to speak again, but he shook his head. "Don't answer just yet…" He said, placing one long finger on her lips. "Think about it today…sleep on it tonight and then we can talk about it tomorrow afternoon when I get back." His jaw clenched reflexively as he glanced at his watch and noticed the time. "Damn, I'm gonna be late." He pulled his hand from under the sheet, after squeezing her thigh one last time.

"Where do you have to go?" She asked as he motioned her up, and then pulled her by the sheet so that she was facing him.

"I have a meeting with Vince and a promotional photo shoot." He pushed the curls over her shoulder, remiss to leave her. "I remembered what you said about Clark Kent, the very first time we had breakfast. I mentioned it to Vince…he liked the idea and so they've decided to use it for the basis of the entire photo shoot." He could sense her discomfort, assuming it was because she was being left alone in a new place. "I'll be 90 miles away, that's all and I'll be back tomorrow afternoon in time for Audrey's birthday party."

"I just wished we had more time to talk." Nancy pulled the sheet closer around her, suddenly feeling a little out of place.

The fact that she was taking a step backward and her face had suddenly fallen let him know that she was dubious about his plan, even though he knew that he could make it work out far better than he had made it sound. "I'll be back tomorrow before three and we'll go to Audrey's party and then I'll help you write out your resignation…then after…" He tugged her forcefully back up against him by taking hold of a handful of the sheet. "We can go upstairs and work out the details." He brushed his lips across hers, knowing that he couldn't fall into the middle of what he wanted to do with her this minute. Vince would not wait on him…even if she would.

Nancy watched him slide his arms into his suit coat and palm his keys, save for the one that he pulled out of the pocket of his slacks and handed to her. "I'm taking the car so if you have to go anywhere the number to the cab company I use is in the drawer by the phone…here's your key." She curled her fingers around the warm metal, her deflated spirit resting like a stagnate weight in her chest. "I'm only gone, for just over 24 hours…24 torturous hours." He admitted ruefully, reaching out to pluck one curl and watch it bounce back. "Keep the door locked while I'm gone."

With a few more parting words…a few more insubordinate forays with his hands, he was out on the porch, slipping his sunglasses down over his eyes. He turned to her with a wicked grin. "I suppose you want to know where your clothes are."

"I do." Nancy said, realizing with misery just how true her statement was.

"Your suitcases are under Audrey's bed."

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She watched the Ferrari back out of the driveway and proceed down the street and then she began a battle with her inner voice.

'He wants to hide you away from the world' The voice announced cruelly.

She turned the key over in her palm as she glanced timidly around the huge space that clearly was not her home. He'd mentioned that the 'solution' of his was the best thing for both of them, he'd pointed out how it would ease his mind to have her someplace where he could keep his eyes on her, but not once had he mentioned how it would benefit her. And it was him she wanted, without a doubt, but not because of his chivalrous obligation to protect her, and not because he needed to keep tabs on her to keep from losing sleep.

She let the sheet drop to the floor of the master bedroom after she'd retrieved a bath towel and wrapped it around her body. She continued trying to push the suspicions from her mind. But words too strong to ignore invaded her peace, giving her sorrowful pause.

'Dave might be willing to invest a lot of time and resources into you now, but as soon as he sees that huge flaw in you, mark my words…he's going to be ashamed.'

Triple H had told her countless weeks ago.

'…he might keep you around for a while because he's noble, but he'll keep you hidden on the back burner so nobody knows who you really are.'

She paced the bedroom, trying to shake the uncertainty that was shrouding her. How could she not believe some of what he had said? Wasn't Dave asking her to quit her job and stay here in the background? He might have presented it under the guise of a need to keep her safe, but he was pulling her out of the light just the same.

'…he won't hold you up and be proud that you're his…because you'll ruin his life if he puts you on display.'

Triple H was right. It was happening just the way he'd said, wasn't it? Dave might still want her, but for how long? And what would happen if she quit her job, to traverse the country with him as little more than a piece of entertaining baggage and then he decided he was tired of her? What would she do then? She would have already burned a bridge that could have led her to countless opportunities. Nancy couldn't let that happen…she couldn't devote everything she was to a man who wanted her allegiance and companionship without any sort of commitment whatsoever.

'…people who have been hurt like you have been tend to love people more deeply, and sadly you tend to hurt people more deeply…'

Nancy did love him, and he had said he loved her, but he was free to back out of the deal at any point if he so chose and she would be left to go crawling back to Max asking for help. He hadn't really left her any other alternative but to do what he thought was best, hadn't asked her if she would be willing to do it…even offering to help her write up her resignation…he'd just assumed that she would have seen it the same way he did…and she didn't.

Nancy was in tears as she tugged the suitcases out from under Audrey's bed, and rummaged through them for her clothing. She donned a pair of beat up jeans and a loose fitting sweater not inclined in the slightest to dress up, she was nearly blinded by a veil of hot tears, digging for her socks when she came across his blue dress shirt…the one she had mended for him the night he'd apologized because of Christy…the night they ridden together. She ran her fingernail across the slit that she had stitched…all the while with him mere feet away, obliterating her focus and sending her poise into a tailspin…She really should return it, she thought, holding it up to her nose so she could catch his scent, but she couldn't…she didn't have the heart to…and so she folded it and stuffed it down into the bottom of her suitcase, knowing that it might be the only thing she had to remember him by, and if he wanted it back, well then he would just have come ask for it.

Nancy made his bed, smoothing out the wrinkles and then she straightened up his kitchen, erasing any sign that she had been there. She then dragged her suitcases to the front door with her uninjured arm, palming her cell phone and rummaging through the drawer of the phone table for the number to the cab company.

Nancy stood outside until the taxi arrived and then stepped back inside and took one last look around to make sure that she hadn't left anything on. Turning, she locked the door and glanced at the shiny new key in her hand, he must have had it cut for her when he brought her here…she could change her mind…throw caution to the wind and try to ride it out, couldn't she?…He loved her…she loved him…

"Ma'am? The meter's running." The driver said, slamming the trunk shut after loading her bags.

Nancy nodded, feeling hot tears prickling against the back of her eyelids. "Okay." She began to chew the inside of her lip, and the tears dripped unchecked from her lashes down over her quivering lips as she knelt beside the door and opened the mail slot, dropping the key back inside. She heard the metal key hit the cold concrete floor and bounce before coming to a rest, but she could have sworn that it was just the sound of her heart clattering to halt…she turned on her heel and trudged down the porch steps, slid into the back of the taxi slumping down in the seat and covering her face as the cab pulled away from the curb.

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He was thankful that the photo shoot would be over shortly…the hot lights were sapping his energy and he was terribly anxious to get to his phone so he could call home. Throughout the monotonous morning drive and the meeting with Vince, as well as the overlong photo shoot, he'd found himself wondering what Nancy might be doing at various given moments. He enjoyed thinking of her in the tub with his MP3 player, or on his sofa watching television…or even in his bed…

"Sir…" The photographer prompted a third time. "Sir?"

"I'm sorry." Dave cleared his throat and went through the scripted motions once more but from a different angle this time, taking off the glasses that he knew she loved, loosening the tie remembering that she was better at tying one than he was, finally opening the suit jacket to reveal the Superman Logo.

"That's great." The photographer announced. "That'll do it, thank you."

Glad to finally be given a dismissal, Dave glanced at his watch, noticing that it was just after five o'clock. He didn't bother changing out of the photo shoot clothing first, instead he lifted his phone and spoke the word "Home" into the receiver, listening for the auto-dialer to kick in. After the 4th ring, the machine picked up and after the tone he spoke.

"I know you're there…" He smiled, his voice deep and liquid. "Maybe you're in the bathtub with the headphones on, and that's why you can't hear the phone…or maybe…you're in the bed…with no clothes on…" He murmured playfully, placing the image in his mind's eye along with his words. Deciding he'd better stop his erotic chatter before he ended up sprouting a hard-on, he quickly quashed his naughty dialogue. "I'll call you tonight after the Smackdown debut taping, love you." He snapped the phone shut and checked his watch again, deciding that maybe she'd opted out of trying to cook and had gone down the street for something to eat.

Dave shucked the clothing from the photoshoot, oblivious of all of the wandering eyes around him and then slid back into his own clothing, preparing for the short drive to the arena for his Smackdown debut taping. Eager to arrive and see Teddy Long again, shake Randy Orton's hand and mesh himself into the camaraderie that he missed, he snatched up his keys, then he saluted the photography team and slipped out of the studio.

He wasn't in fear of why she hadn't answered the phone, he'd simply been hoping that she would, so he could tell her again how much he'd enjoyed having her there this week. This morning was fresh in his mind—with her in his lap, against him, the both of them nervous, on the threshold of something very new—he'd known that this was what he wanted. It was something that he could get used to experiencing every morning of his life.

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The plane touched down on the tarmac, and the stewardess streamed through her announcements, including the current time and the weather in Denver. Nancy waited until more than half of the people around her had deplaned, so that she wouldn't risk jarring her shoulder, and then she extracted her carry-on bag and shuffled down the aisle of the plane and out into the passenger waiting area. A familiar face caught her eye, and though she put on a brave face, Max's mother Jean could see right through it and the look of pity on her face, made Nancy's eyes burn with tears. She had called from the Taxi and explained some of what was going on to Jean, rather than calling Max directly. Jean had insisted that she fly to the ranch immediately and finish her recovery there, telling her that she would be able to gain a better perspective of the situation if she wasn't right there in the middle of it.

"Oh, Nancy." Jean hugged her shoulders and took the carry-on bag from her hand. "I promise it'll all look better after we go shopping." Jean had never had a daughter of her own, just a son who was a human whirlwind. Her only consolation had been that someday Max would hopefully marry and give her grandchildren and then along had come Max's friendship with Nancy. At first Jean and her husband Don had hoped that it would eventually become more than a friendship, but after some time, they had both resigned themselves to the fact that she and Max were more suited as duplicate goofballs than as lifetime partners. Jean always teased the two, saying that they had done God a favor by saving some energy, being as they both seemed to operate off of the same brain.

Jean appreciated the fact that her son's friendship was based on just that…friendship. She enjoyed the playful banter that was a constant part of the dialogue the two shared. Jean always remarked that Nancy and Max had a limitless off the cuff repartee that would have put 'Saturday Night Live' comedians to shame, and she'd repeatedly had to call the two of them down for running throughout the ranch, throwing things at one another and generally behaving like overexcited siblings. And with any hope of Max making Jean a grandmother, fizzling further away into the future, Nancy was the closest thing to a daughter-in-law she might ever be able to spoil.

Nancy stood there in the airport, just content to let Jean hold her. She wouldn't cry, not here, not in public, but she would gladly immerse herself in the embrace. Jean was everything that embodied true motherhood. She smelled like a Mom was supposed to smell and Nancy breathed deeply, she could have sworn she smelled cinnamon in Jean's hair. Nancy also loved the soft lilt of Jean's voice. It was everything that a mother's voice should be like. Jean's was smooth and confident, with the distinct pitch that hinted toward her Canadian heritage, and the strong arms attached to the thin woman's body circled Nancy and gave her a genuine sense of motherly protection.

"I don't wanna put you out, Jean." Nancy said, her voice lifeless as she pulled back from the woman. "If you guys have something going on I can get a hotel."

"Always such a joker." Jean smiled and brushed the curls away from the sides of her face. "We always have something going on…we just never leave the ranch." She jested, with a wink. She took note of the tired green eyes. "You know what you need before we ride out for the house?" Jean commented.

"No, what?" Nancy smiled weakly, as she felt the warm smoothness of Jean's hand clasping hers.

"You need a facial." Jean announced, leading Nancy toward baggage claim.

"Jean, you don't have to…I'm really tired." Nancy protested, thoroughly relishing the prospect of burying her face in a soft and fluffy pillow and never reemerging.

"Nooo, you're not tired…and even if you are a facial will help." Jean began, "It's not good for you to isolate yourself…and I just know I read somewhere that the best therapy for an injured shoulder is a couple of heavy shopping bags, even if you're not the one carrying them." She winked at Nancy and let go of her hand long enough to pull the two suitcases off of the carousel and load them onto a rolling cart.

Nancy smiled and shook her head, glancing at the thin mid-fifties woman, loading her luggage onto the cart without asking for help from anyone, when she was wealthy enough that she could have paid someone to do anything she wanted. Independent, fulfilled and secure…Jean Hadaway was everything that Nancy wished she could be. But Jean was a wife and a mother, a competent business woman, helping to run a multi-million dollar cattle ranch and a profitable jewelry making business. She was balancing family and career at the same time and had done both beautifully. Nancy wondered if she'd ever had doubts about her husband Don…wondered if she'd ever walked away from something she loved…like Nancy had done mere hours ago.

She followed behind Jean as the woman led her through a throng of people and out into the parking garage to a newer Chevy Suburban with the Hadaway family name and a Circle H brand symbol painted on the side doors, along with a phone number and a commercial vehicle license number below it. Max and his family had always been proud of the livelihood that the family had chosen. The cattle ranch was a fifth generation family industry and had been responsible for Max's ability to indulge his whims without fear of poverty.

Once inside of the vehicle, Nancy leaned back in the front seat and clasped her lap belt, immediately changing the radio station from country to classical. Jean only grinned with the challenge and pushed the button switching it back…Nancy changed the station again and the two continued the nonverbal teasing for the next couple of miles, until Jean gently squeezed Nancy's hand and then demanded in a soft motherly tone of voice. "Maybe if you tell me what's bothering you, you'll feel better…besides…it'll kill time between here and the day spa." Jean smiled. "You know you can trust me."

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Backstage, shaking hands with Eddie Guerrero and Chris Benoit, Dave conveyed his eagerness to work with them now that he was a part of the Smackdown roster. And though his exterior was polished and reserved, on the inside, he was a mass of nerves. He'd called home earlier than he'd originally told her on the machine and still she hadn't answered the phone. Dave began to wonder if he'd even left the ringer on, suddenly remembering that he'd shut it off the day they'd arrived, so she wouldn't be disturbed during recovery. But then he must have turned it back on or else Angie wouldn't have been able to call and let him know the time of Audrey's party, nor would Vince have been able to let him know of the Roster change. So a silent ringer couldn't explain why Nancy hadn't picked up the phone in almost 12 hours.

"Dinner?" Randy asked, snatching Dave out of his worrisome reverie. "Several of us are heading out just now…maybe hitting a club afterward…whaddya say?" He clapped a large hand on Dave's shoulder and quirked one dark eyebrow, hinting at old time's antics.

Dave frowned, glancing for the thousandth time at his watch…it was almost 10:00 p.m. "Maybe just dinner." He nodded toward Randy, accepting only the first portion of the invite. Dave was reluctant to go to another club with his good friend, knowing that he would spend a fair portion of his time in the club watching his wallet and guarding his assets from half a dozen of Randy's female fan following.

"Oh, that's right." Randy grinned in the ever familiar, knowing and arrogant way that tended to rile people who weren't well acquainted with him. "You have a little something…um, say late twenty's, curly hair…nice ass, waiting on you at home…don't you?" He knew the comment about her ass would incite some biting retort from his former Evolution pal, and it did…followed by a laugh. "I almost missed seeing the rusted ball and chain hanging out from beneath your pant leg." Randy teased. "But there it is." He leaned over and pretended to inspect Dave's leg.

Dave laughed again, not so bothered by the knowledge that he was off of the market again. "At least I'm not still sharing my bed with a bottle of lotion, and nursing a hand cramp in the morning."

"That's harsh, bro." Randy followed Dave out of the locker room and down the hallway toward the parking garage, grinning when he saw Dave lift his cell phone to make yet another call.

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The esthetician removed two cucumber slices from Nancy's eyes and then replaced them with cotton pads moistened with herbal facial oil, and then after another few blissful moments of reclining on the plush seat, the woman spritzed her face with floral water and removed the herbal-infused bentonite clay.

"You have wonderful skin." The esthetician remarked.

"Doesn't she?" Jean piped up in agreement, from beneath the cover of her hot towel facial-wrap. "I plan on marketing her facial regimen, as soon as I'm able to spy on her and find out if it's skincare or good genetics."

The woman laughed, adorned her skin with toner and gently spread a moisturizer on Nancy's face, instructing her to lie back for a few more moments to give her skin time to absorb the moisture. "I think it's genetics and lack of stress…these young ladies have no clue how easy life is before you start having kids."

Nancy knew the woman was only joking, but the off handed comment reminded her of how truly far away from that facet of life she had just thrust herself by running away from the man she loved.

Jean raised her head and pushed the towel aside, motioning the woman to hand her a dry towel. "Nancy, I think we need coffee before we go any further, what do you think?" The woman finished Jean's facial and the two women left the spa in search of a Star Buck's.

"Thank you for today." Nancy said, glancing askance toward Jean. She sipped her latte and watched the older woman twirl the three carat diamond solitaire on her left finger as if it were a toy ring. "I was planning on sleeping until life got better."

"I know that...you would have been in bed until the Second Coming of Christ" Jean said. "Life's not half bad for you Nancy…our perspectives of things tend to clear up when we have some time away from them…but not too much time…or else you run the risk of losing the very thing you're trying to figure out—I did that once."

Nancy's head snapped up and she arched a brow in surprise. "You did?" She couldn't imagine Jean in any other life than the one she currently commanded and so to hear the woman admit that she had lost someone she loved took Nancy completely off guard.

"Now, don't get me wrong…I love Don with my whole heart and I wouldn't trade Max for a handful of normal boys…" Jean's smile waned and her eyes clouded as she began to hash out the memory. "But I let go of someone I was madly in love with because I was prideful and dumb…and dead set on hearing what I wanted to hear. I took a step back from my relationship to see if I could get a different view of the whole thing and while I was checking out all of the angles, in swooped Miss Tara Cunningham-Fayville."

"Who was that?" Nancy asked, contorting her face in confusion.

"A well bred, high-society, Manitoban with a penchant for poor farm boys." Jean smiled, delicately swept a stray lock from her face and sipped her own cappuccino. "Now I know that 'fate' and the 'will of God' play a bigger part than do 'time' and the 'hand of man', but I can't help but wonder what might have happened if I hadn't purposely walked away from the love of my life, just because he didn't fit the mold I had created in my own mind."

"Did Don fit that mold?" Nancy ventured to ask.

"Hell no, he didn't!" Jean laughed placing her cup gently on the table and leaning forward. "But if you think I was making the same mistake twice in a lifetime, you're crazy. And look where it got me…I have a son who constantly keeps me entertained with his antics, And I have a handsome husband who can't keep his hands off of me, even after 37 years of marriage…" Nancy laughed and looked away in embarrassment. "And I have an experience that I can share with someone I consider a friend." Jean reached across the table and clasped Nancy's hand. "I think that you know what you need to do…and I think that you're a smart girl and you know that you don't have a lot of time to waste in doing it." Jean winked when she locked gazes with Nancy, realizing that the young girl had caught the brunt of what she had been trying to convey. "Now let's go find a new outfit…because I'm not taking you to breakfast tomorrow with the girls, unless I can show you off…maybe even pass you off as my daughter-in-law."

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Dave leaned against the wall next to the entryway of the 24-hour hotel restaurant, and held his cell phone to his ear, listening to the familiar and annoying unanswered ring. It was almost midnight and he was beginning to think something was very wrong. Nancy's cell phone was turned off, and he'd only been able to leave a voicemail message.

"Nancy, I'm beginning to get worried…" Dave sighed in frustration. "Things went very well tonight with the Smackdown taping…" He rolled his eyes and spun to face the wall when he saw Randy mimicking the ball and chain from the table. "I know it's late but I haven't been able to reach you at either number…all day…" He smiled, trying to envision her sleeping…maybe she had turned the ringer off…that had to be it…she was in his bed sleeping like a baby, he just knew it…and she'd be there in the afternoon, ready to go to Audrey's party with him. "If I don't hear from you first thing in the morning…then you're in big trouble…" He then proceeded to describe for her in mischievous detail all of the delicious punishments he could possibly inflict, before telling the voicemail box "Goodnight." And snapping his phone shut.

Dave Batista, normally the picture of complete confidence, was irritated and anxious beyond normalcy. He made his way back to the table, trying to cloak himself in calm, but then visions of her falling and hitting her head whilst trying to get out of the tub, or taking a tumble down the stairs, began to mingle through his cluttered brain, alongside thoughts of her being accosted and left for dead in the street on her way back from dinner. "Son of a bitch." He muttered, tugging the chair out so he could sit back down.

"Not answering, huh?" Randy said snapping his teeth down on a breadstick, as they waited impatiently for the hotel restaurant to serve the late dinner. "Maybe she turned the ringer off so you would leave her alone." He mused.

"That's what I thought." Dave said pushing the breadsticks away.

"You mentioned that the two of you had a pretty serious discussion today?" Randy asked, as he nodded and winked at a young waitress.

"Yep." Dave clenched his jaw, pushing the nightmarish images out of his head and replacing them with the vision of Nancy sleeping soundly.

"Well, maybe she thought that she needed one full day of silence and solitude to process whatever it was that you two talked about?" He hinted toward Dave for more information, but when none came he continued. "Women are like that, Bro…they get all worked up over things we think are simple and then they get wound up like a spinning top…and you just have to give 'em time and peace and quiet to come back down and see things eye to eye." He motioned with his hand like a tornado in the air and then shrugged his shoulders.

Dave frowned and swallowed deeply from his water glass. "And you became an expert on these things, when?" He chomped a piece of ice in frustration. "You're experience with women begins with 'Hi, I'm Randy' and ends somewhere between the morning buffet and a phone number scrawled on a cocktail napkin." He offered, dryly.

Randy laughed heartily when his friend referred to his one night stands and numerous sexual escapades. "Hey, I've called some of them back, albeit from different cities." He said laughing. "I'm just saying…that women don't see things the same way we do, and so if you had a life changing conversation right before you left, then she might just be needing some time in solitude to deal with whatever it is you talked about." Again he hinted toward the mystery conversation and again Dave withheld the pertinent details. Randy watched his friend mutilate his thumbnail with his teeth, and check his watch for the 10th time since being seated. "Damn, Dave…if you're that worried that something horrific happened to her, then take off…why spend the night here? Just go."

"I can't, I have another 'still shoot' tomorrow and a couple of motion shots in front of a blue-screen…I can't leave until noon." He announced, letting out a breath of irritation. Dave was suddenly wishing he'd made her come along after dropping the bombshell in her lap.

"Well, then I think it's only right that you should put yourself through the ringer and be thoroughly miserable with a whiskey & coke in your hand, while watching me attempt to score at the club, as opposed to being completely miserable back in the hotel room…by yourself." Randy grinned arrogantly as the entrees were placed in front of them. "Thanks Sweetheart." He said politely and seductively to the young waitress, who smiled coyly and then went away after discreetly slipping a small piece of paper under the rim of Randy's plate.

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Nancy sat in the bed, propped up on several pillows, turning the cell phone over in her hands. She glanced around the room that was considered to be hers whenever she came to stay at the ranch. Unlike the larger main areas of the house which were adorned with deep, rich, wood accents and decidedly, masculine rusticity, this room had been prepared with an undeniably feminine taste in mind. The walls were a soft muted white as were the linens, save for the gentle blue floral accents, deeper Navy stripes and cream and azure toiles. Yards and yards of flowing fabric and thick downy coverlets had been used as the bedding. Plantation shutters could be closed to keep out the sight of a snowstorm in winter and opened wide to let in the breeze in the spring and summer. The room was spacious with barrel vaulted ceilings and honey colored wide plank wooden floors, covered in plush area rugs, but despite it immense size it felt inordinately cozy. Being in the room was akin to a hug from a grandmother…she loved it, always had…but as beautiful as the room was, Nancy knew she'd rather be somewhere else.

Nancy was hesitant to turn the phone back on, wondering if she would be met with the illuminating icon that signaled a box full of voicemail messages, and so she placed the phone on the nightstand and snapped the lamp off, pulling his shirt against her chest breathing in the scent of him. A split second later, she snapped the lamp back on and sat straight up once more. She reached out and snatched the phone up, her heart beating fiercely in anticipation. Pressing the button on her phone turning it on, she watched the dancing Sony logo give way to the familiar wallpaper background, and then up popped the 'missed calls' icon, along with the 'voicemail' indicator. Her lip was sore from chewing it as she dialed the number to retrieve her voicemails. Dave's deep and liquid voice invoked a feeling of emptiness, guilt and pain. She'd left him without the benefit of an explanation on one of the more important days of his life…she didn't deserve someone like him. And there he was, telling her voicemail box all of the things he was going to do to her if she didn't call him back, things she wished she could be there for…he sounded worried and loving all at the same time.

Nancy realized, when glancing at the time, that she'd just barely missed his call…she could call him back…she could try to talk to him, but how would he react, when he had been thinking this entire time that she was in his home, not knowing that she'd flown to Colorado, little more than a couple of hours after he'd left her this morning? Likely he would be furious with her deception and tell her that he was through with her…she may have already done too much damage. And like Jean she would be left waiting on 'fate' and the 'will of God' for a second chance.