So I'm enjoying writing this fic way too much. It's given me all types of excuses to go back and watch my own little golden era of wresting: '99 to '03. I had almost forgotten the absolutely fabulous character development that was given to Steph and the absolutely fabulous asshole-attitude that embodied all things Triple H. *Sighs
This is usually where I shout out all the reviewers, but tbh, it's 1:38am and I'm exhausted. I promised this upload to two of my favorite fandom homies though so here I am. Please know that if you've reviewed, favorited, and/or followed this story, it made my heat smile when I got the email notification. Thank you forever for that.
Armageddon 2002
"I Need Her"
Ric Flair did not consider himself to be a good man. On the contrary, he thought himself quite a bad one. One didn't become a stylin', limousine ridin', jet flyin', kiss-stealin', wheelin' n' dealin' son of gun, and get to keep good morals. But he did have a family. Wives that came and went, but he still cared for, and children who needed his support and guidance. He kept them, and any other pure parts of his life, private.
He had begun to notice this similar pattern with his protégée. For almost six months, Ric had been mentoring Triple H. The young man was smart, talented, and visceral. He was everything Ric had been and more. Offering The Game advice, and helping him strategize, was second nature to Ric. It was a pleasure. It gave him a purpose. It kept him relevant in a business accustomed to discarding former champions. But more importantly than anything, it presented him with a friend.
The longer Ric rode with Hunter, the closer they became. On top of everything they had in common in the ring, they had even more outside of it. For hours, they would talk about almost everything. The business, cars, women, the stock market, bodybuilding, upcoming talent, their childhoods; the list was endless.
There were a few exceptions. Ric's difficulties with his youngest son were clearly off limits. And the sixteen-time champion wasn't too big on discussing one of his daughter's aspirations of becoming a Diva. These were easily avoided. And Ric openly admitted to not wanting to talk about them.
Hunter was not so forthcoming. In general, there wasn't much he wouldn't talk about. His parents phoned him a few times a week, and he always answered, speaking kinder to them than Ric heard him speak to anyone. He wouldn't elaborate on his discussions with them but it was clear he loved them. His sister called less frequently, but Hunter would sneak away for privacy whenever she did. Ric got the sense that those conversations were off-limits to prying. He respected that, assuming that Lynn was the current champion's closest confidant. Fair enough. He wasn't much interested in the topics of their discussions.
In truth, the only aspect of Triple H's personal life that piqued Ric Flair's interest was that of the younger man's former marriage to the McMahon heiress. Hunter never spoke of Stephanie. He never commented on her SmackDown appearances, he didn't look her way during joint Pay-Per-Views, and he avoided discussing any of his previous feuds that involved her.
This could be tricky. The years of his short marriage were the first years of Hunter's status as a main eventer. Him and Ric would compare their early ring-wars and re-watch their finest moments. It was research and allowed for strategizing. It was also awkward. Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley had accompanied her husband to almost all of his matches. Every time the two men sat down to review an opponent, her presence on the screen was felt in the room. Hunter refused to comment on her. And Ric had noticed that he looked away from the television whenever her image appeared.
But her imprint on his life went beyond reviewing matches. Hunter would instruct Ric to manage him in a way the older man knew was reminiscent of how his ex-wife had. Hunter wouldn't say it explicitly, he was an expert at avoiding her name, but Ric heard it all the same.
"Jericho's easily distracted, Ric. Just jump up on the ropes and make a scene. He can't help himself."
"Don't let Rob hit the frog-splash. I've been told there's no getting up from it if he hits wrong."
It wasn't bad advice, and Ric was fine taking direction. He didn't know Stephanie well, but he knew she wasn't an idiot. Hunter had been very successful under her watch.
So Ric had been applying this logic for almost six months. He mentored and managed The Game throughout his current reign as World Heavyweight Champion. It was a tough job that had become even tougher recently. Hunter's feud with Shawn Michaels was a violent one. As former best friends, their matches were absolutely brutal. They anticipated each other's moves and strategized to destroy the other.
It pained Ric to see. But he had chosen his alliance.
He stuck by Triple H from start to finish. Armageddon 2002 was no different. Hunter had battled Shawn through Three Stages of Hell. It was a long battle. It was a bloody one too. Hunter's hand was raised in victory for just a second before he collapsed again to the floor. Ric and medical personnel half-carried the champion from the ring, to the back, and straight to an ambulance.
When they arrived at the hospital, the emergency room was a bundle of morbid energy. Doctors and nurses crowded around Hunter's bloody body, calling for medicine and help. Ric watched his friend struggle to breath from across the room. Until the champion's gurgled voice called out. Then, Ric pushed himself off of the wall.
"What's he saying?"
The young nurse ignored him.
"Sir, step back please."
"What is he saying?"
Hunter coughed, clearing his throat, and spoke louder.
Clearly, he rasped, "Steph."
"What?" Ric couldn't believe it.
"Get. Steph."
Ric bypassed the nurse and approached Hunter's bedside.
"Hunter –"
"I need her."
He was half out of it, bleeding and sore. He could barely see, squinting against the hospital's bright lights. But his voice was deep and filled with authority. Ric reeled backwards.
"What's that, Mr. Helmsley?" The nurse was still bustling around them.
"Steph," continued Hunter. "My wife. I need her."
"Okay, we'll get her here. Can you squeeze my fingers?"
Ric looked between his protégé and the nurse, unsure what to do. He flipped open his cell, scrolling to Stephanie McMahon's number. His thumb hovered over the call button. He looked to Hunter once more, but he had passed out. The nurse was shaking his shoulder and calling his name. He hit call.
Three rings and Stephanie's voice was greeting him.
"Stephanie, it's Ric Flair."
"Oh God."
"Yeah. We need."
"Where is he?"
"The Sunrise Medical Center, down the road from the arena."
"Is he okay?"
"Uhh," but Ric didn't know how to answer that question. "He asked for you."
It was an answer that spoke volumes.
"Oh my God!"
"Just get here, princess."
They simultaneously hung up. And Ric was forced to watch sedatives and painkillers be pumped into Hunter's blood stream via an IV drip. He watched anxiously for what seemed like only a minute. Then Stephanie was in the doorway, gorgeous and fear stricken. Her blue, hawkish eyes never lifted from the hospital bed. Her head didn't turn at his greeting. She was beside Hunter in two strides.
"Hunter," she called.
Her ex-husband was unconscious. Only then did she look to Ric.
"What are they doing?"
"Sedatives and pain killers. He has a broken rib but there's not much they can do about that. It looks like muscle fatigue mostly, but he lost a lot of blood."
"I can see that." Her eyes cringed at the crimson stains on his head and chest.
They stood there, on either side of Hunter, and felt an awkward silence descend over them. Ric couldn't take it.
"He doesn't wanna stay here."
"That's why I'm here," she answered. Ric cocked an eyebrow.
"I'm used to this routine," she explained. "I'll show you how to get him out of here and get him back to the hotel."
And she went to work in doing just that. Ric watched her command the medical staff back into the room. She barked and argued, until they were forced to agree to discharge him from the hospital.
"And who might you be," asked a particularly ill-humored doctor.
"His wife," snarled Stephanie.
She did everything after that. She shook Hunter awake, although Ric doubted he even knew where he was, never mind who was rousing him. She signed his release papers as his 'wife.' She instructed a nurse's assistant to clean the blood from Hunter's body. She ordered another bystander to get a wheelchair.
It was amazing. Money and power: the mecca of marriages. And Stephanie McMahon, heiress to the wrestling kingdom had them both sitting in the palm of her hand. She made demands and gave out orders effortlessly. Her presence alone forced people into action.
Ric tried to observe, to learn. He wanted to be able to emulate her should something like this happen again. He had a suspicion that Hunter would regret requesting his ex-wife. But Ric was grateful that he had asked for Stephanie. He didn't think he would be this effective. Her voice, her vocabulary, her looks, her last name, everything worked together to form a figure of absolute authority.
As the ER's head doctor left the room, after stating his disagreement of discharging the wounded wrestler, he snuck a quick up-and-down look at the former Mrs. Helmsley. The male hospital assistant that conjured a wheelchair from nowhere did the same. Ric couldn't blame them. Stephanie was dripping sex-appeal. The faded jeans and jacket she wore did nothing but accentuate her icy stare and imposing persona.
They all helped to wrap Hunter in as many hospital blankets as possible. Stephanie had arranged a stretch limousine to meet them at the hospital entrance. He would only be exposed to the slightly chilly South Florida air for a moment, but she was insistent that he could not be cold. When they managed to secure the extremely groggy Triple H into the car, Ric and Stephanie flanked either side of him. The wheelchair was stuffed into the trunk.
It was an uncomfortable trip to the hotel. Hunter was conscious but disoriented. All he seemed to recognize was Stephanie. He leaned against her, mumbling incoherently and resting his face in the crook of her neck. Ric watched these interactions a bit protectively. This woman had hurt his friend. It was the only logical reason Ric could think of as to why Hunter avoided her so passionately. So he watched, ready to intervene should Stephanie do anything wicked.
He soon realized this to be unnecessary. Stephanie looked as uncomfortable as anyone could ever be. She sat stiffly, with her hands balled into tight fists on her knees and her eyes staring straight ahead. Her jaw clenched every time Hunter moved. As they entered the parking lot of the hotel, the limousine bounced harshly. Hunter groaned her name. Ric was intrigued to see her face cringe. She looked to be in pain at the sound her ex-husband's voice.
But then she was barking orders to the driver and they were being driven around the building. Ric spotted several male hotel staff members waiting outside the employee entrance.
"They're here for us?"
"Yes," she answered. "They've been paid to help us get him upstairs."
"And to keep their mouths shut?"
"That too."
Maneuvering an over 6ft tall man that weighed 250lbs, out of a car and into a wheelchair, was no easy feat. But it was done and they were escorted into a facility elevator up to Hunter's suite. As the men helping them opened the door and wheeled Hunter inside, Ric looked to Stephanie in dread that she might leave. But her domineering demeanor from the hospital had returned and she paid him no mind.
"Thank you, gentlemen. We can take it from here."
Resounding, 'you're welcomes' and 'yes, ma'ams' were formally said. And then they were alone.
Ric looked again to her. Questioningly, he cocked his head.
"I can help you get him in bed and set up for the night, but then," her voice trailed off as she looked to Hunter, slumped in the wheelchair. She cleared her throat, "then I have to go."
Ric tried to say 'okay,' to say anything really. But he just nodded. She locked the wheelchair and stepped between Hunter's knees. Ric watched in subtle alarm when she bent forx what first looked like an awkward hug, but then he realized she was lifting him onto his feet. He moved towards them to help, but he had no idea where to put his hands. Stephanie arms were wrapped around Hunter's midsection; he was practically draped over her once he stood.
She grunted from the effort and it caught Hunter's attention.
"Steph." It seemed the only word he was able to mumble.
"You're too big," she whispered. "Help me."
It was like Ric wasn't even in the room.
They moved in unison, side ways and oddly reminiscent of a crab, until the back of Hunter's legs hit the bed. He tried to collapse backwards.
"No yet," she told him. "Try and stand for just a second."
When he appeared to stabilize a bit, she bent to yank down the covers just enough for him to clumsily sit between the sheets.
"Good, now just wait – No, baby, not yet."
Hunter had tried to flop backwards again, but Stephanie didn't let him. She grabbed his waist again and kept him sitting up on the edge of the bed. She knelt before him.
"One more minute, Hunter. Then you can lay down, I promise."
Stephanie looked to Ric and he remembered that he was not actually a fly on the wall.
"We should change him."
"What?"
"Just bottoms, anything."
Her attention returned immediately to Hunter so Ric found himself scrambling into the suite's living room. He rustled through his protégé's luggage until a pair of black boxer briefs appeared. He carried them as he would his son's, without humor or discomfort.
As he returned to the bedside, Stephanie jumped onto the bed, beside Hunter to guide him.
"Okay, lean back," she instructed him gently. And Ric felt panic bubble inside himself.
"I'm not touching his trunks."
It was blurted out. He felt his face turn red as she looked to him with an eye roll.
"Just unlace his boots."
When Hunter's boots, socks, and kneepads were peeled from his legs, Ric stepped back. He had seen Hunter naked before. They'd gone skinny dipping with a bunch of young women in Vegas. It was no big deal. And he probably would have helped his friend out of his ring attire had there been no one else.
There was a tense moment of silence as he realized what he had just subjected her to do. Or maybe what he had just subjected Hunter to. He was suddenly confused. Unsure as to why he so easily considered Stephanie an ally.
But there was no denying that her intentions were good when she carefully pulled down her ex-husbands trunks. She barely touched him, her fingertips dragged down the leather material carefully and quickly. Her eyes stayed glued to the bed, never looking up or down at him. Then she held out her hand for his briefs and repeated the same pattern in reverse. Hunter lifted his hips both times to assist her. Ric felt like running from the room.
"Help me move him."
Again he followed her directions and shifted Hunter into a more comfortable position with his head resting on the pillow. He and Stephanie pulled the covers up to his waist and waited with bated breath as the champion began to moan and groan.
"Stay awhile longer," Ric said.
She didn't answer, but hovered by Hunter's bedside with an expression of anxiousness. Ric sat in a lounge chair in the corner of the room.
Stephanie seemed to anticipate Hunter's needs before they even occurred. Ric watched, learning and appreciating, and tried his best to not show his surprise at the young woman's nurturing demeanor. She inspected his stitches, massaged his joints, and helped him move into more comfortable positions. She lunged off of the bed to grab the wastebasket just 30 seconds before he emptied the contents of his stomach into it.
Ric too jumped up to help. Taking the small trash bin from her, he gently encouraged Hunter to relax. Stephanie pulled the champion's hair back from his face. Ric watched her grip the blonde locks with one hand and pull her own hair tie out with the other.
"Shh," she whispered while pulling Hunter's hair into a bun. He'd begun groaning as he vomited but quieted at her hushing.
When he finished being ill, Stephanie took the wastebasket and moved from the bed. Ric's eyes widened at Hunter's immediate protest to her attempted absence.
"Steph," he whispered, hand gripping her knee.
"I'll be right back. You need water."
When she disappeared, Hunter's heavy-lidded eyes finally closed. He slouched in a seated position at the edge of the bed, hands resting on his thighs, breathing heavily.
"You got this, man," coached Ric. Hunter faintly nodded.
Stephanie returned with her arms full of supplies. She kneeled beside both men and held the freshly washed waste-bin up to Hunter.
"Spit."
It was amazing to see Hunter follow her directions. The typically stubborn and hotheaded wrestler offered no resistance to any of his ex-wife's instructions.
She wiped his mouth with a damp towel and then pressed a fresh one to his sweaty forehead. Then she joined them again on the bed. Kneeling beside Hunter, she guided his head back to tip water into his mouth. He sloshed the liquid in his mouth three times before spitting it into the trash.
"If he doesn't rinse," said Stephanie, glancing at Ric, "he'll wake up dry-heaving later."
"Ugh," grunted Hunter.
"He hates to puke."
"Fucking gross," added the champion to further her point.
Ric gave a small smile before again helping Stephanie lower Hunter onto his back.
"You need to rest," she whispered.
"Everything hurts."
"Want more drugs?" Ric interjected with a louder voice.
Hunter half huffed but didn't respond.
"You should, Hunter," added Stephanie softly. "You shouldn't suffer unnecessarily." Her hand rested on his chest, fingers soothing him.
"We gotta leave tomorrow –"
But Stephanie hushed him. Ric watched her lean a bit over her ex-husband, making their eye contact direct. Softly, she convinced him to rest and recuperate. She explained that the medicine would help and not hinder him. She reminded him that his repaired quadricep needed time to settle after such a gruesome match.
Ric busied himself preparing the painkillers and another bottled water. He kept his expression neutral as Hunter replied to her speech with a soft, "Okay, Steph."
The drugs worked quickly. Hunter's grunts of pain subsided to shallow breaths within a half-hour. Stephanie sat cross-legged beside him on the edge of the bed as he slept. Ric moved back to the lounge chair in the corner of the room. He watched silently, off and on, for hours.
All night he drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time he nodded off, the last thing he saw was Stephanie quietly staring at Hunter, hand still resting on his chest. Whenever Ric woke, it was to see the same image.
1AM, 2AM, 3:30AM, 4:15AM, all night, she sat awake watching over him. Her face drained of blood as the hours ticked by without sleep. Dark, purple bags formed under her eyes and Ric guessed that she'd been up for almost 24 hours. Bischoff usually got to the arenas around seven. The SmackDown GM would definitely do the same. His eyes fluttered again.
He awoke just before seven in the morning. There was a squeak from the bed as Stephanie finally stood from her perched positioning. Ric cringed as she stood and stretched. Her joints snapped and cracked after sitting uncomfortably all night. She faced away from him so Ric was free to unabashedly assess her.
She was beautiful. There was no denying it. Her face and body complimented each other perfectly and Ric appreciated Hunter's choice of a spouse even without the added bonus of her last name. Not to mention the way she had cared for him… There was now wife-material written all over her in a way Ric would never be able to not see.
Where had they gone wrong? He knew what had happened in public, of course, but Ric wanted to know more. There had to be more than people knew. There had to be. They loved each other. Then, now, still. It was obvious.
Painfully obvious, Ric thought as Stephanie rubbed her tired eyes. She met his stare afterwards.
"I should get going," she whispered.
"He wants you here."
"Yeah," laughed Stephanie. "When he was out of it. That won't last."
"Just stay til he wakes up."
She looked to the sleeping man, chewing her lip as she contemplated it.
"I really don't think he'd want me here."
"He asked for you."
"I know, but…" Her words trailed off as her eyes raked over her ex-husband. Her expression was one of longing but exhaustion lowered her eyelids in slow blinks. Ric felt sorry for her.
"I don't want him confused or upset," he added to further persuade her.
Stephanie offered one more look of anxiety before nodding in agreement. He sighed in relief and got up from his seat.
"Lie down," Ric said and gestured to the empty side of the bed. "I'm gonna try and sleep on the couch."
Stephanie's eyes widened in panic.
"No," she answered firmly, walking away from Hunter's bedside. "You should stay, I'll –"
"Don't be ridiculous. He'll only be out for a bit longer. Take a nap."
"I can't get in bed with him." Her voice had amplified so he gestured for her to calm down.
"He won't –"
"He'll kill me."
Ric shot her a look of annoyance.
"He said he nee –"
"He was out of it. He wouldn't want me here."
"Steph?"
Her name was grunted faintly from the bed. Hunter's eyes remained closed but the frown on his face showed they'd disturbed him. Ric looked to her in triumph but his smirk faltered when he saw that she was about to cry.
Quietly, he left the room and found his blazer to pull over himself like a blanket. He purposely lay on the sofa with his head facing the doorway of the bedroom. Hunter had returned to sleep but Stephanie had not joined him on the bed. She sat, with her legs curled beneath her, on the floor. Her back rested against the bed. Ric admired the column of her neck as her head tipped backwards to rest just beside Hunter's hand on the mattress. Her eyes were closed but she still looked restless.
7:51AM. He could feel someone staring at him. It woke him from the light sleep he'd slipped into. His muscles cramped and protested as he looked up from his awkward position on the couch. Stephanie still rested on the floor, but her head now tipped to the side as she had finally allowed herself to sleep.
Ric's eyes jumped to the bed. Hunter stared back at him. He looked severe. The legend scrambled off of the couch and to his protégé.
"What is she doing here?" Hunter's voice was still strained in pain, but his anger was most apparent. It was obvious that his mind was clear. He spoke at a normal volume, unconcerned if he woke up his ex-wife.
"You asked for her," whispered Ric.
"The fuck I did."
"You did."
"I must've –"
"Been a mess? Yeah," Ric interrupted, his voice still low. "You said you needed her."
The snarl that encompassed Hunter's features confirmed Stephanie's earlier pronouncement. He looked murderous.
"Get her out of here."
Ric made a mental note to discuss the younger man's tone later. No one spoke to the Nature Boy that way. But for the meantime, he crouched down in front of the woman who'd taken such good care of the WWE champion.
"Stephanie?" Her eyes fluttered open, bloodshot and exhausted. "It's time to leave, sweetheart."
She looked confused for a moment, still half asleep.
"Sweetheart?" Hunter snorted from the bed. "That bitch doesn't have a heart."
His voice seemed to fully wake her. Ric tried to say with his gaze that he was sorry. She had been right. She should have already left. So he helped her off the floor and returned his attention to Hunter, trying to smooth things over.
"Do you want some more meds?"
It was useless. The wrestler didn't even spare him a glance. He was too busy glaring at Stephanie as she collected her jacket and purse.
Ric tried again.
"You should at least take one more dose, champ. It'll make you more com –"
"Steph."
Ric rolled his eyes at the pigheadedness.
Stephanie stood at the foot of the bed. Her belongings were held limply at her sides in a way that emphasized defeat. She looked as bad as someone as attractive as her could look, eyes red-rimmed and sunken, cheeks pale.
"You will tell no one that you were here," instructed Hunter. Stephanie nodded immediately. "I am not hurt or injured and my leg is just fine."
"I know –" she started.
"Shut up."
Ric bit his lip to keep from protesting.
"I walked out of the hospital alone last night. You were never there."
Stephanie nodded again. Ric watched her eye the doorway, desperate to leave.
"If I hear from anyone that –"
"I won't say anything."
"I mean it, Stephanie. I could've done much worse a few months ago. And I should've. One word about this and I'll blow your shit up faster than you could ever call daddy. You hear me?"
"I know, Hunter." She said it quietly, with little effort. Ric knew her tone was a result of exhaustion, not exasperation. But he also knew at once that Hunter would not think the same. He watched the younger man's nostrils flare with rage.
"You think I won't?"
A second before he lost it.
"I'll tell Ric here, and everyone else, everything I know about that fucked up family of yours. I'll let everybody know about those little meetings your daddy would set up for you. And all the gory details of you finalizing business for him. Nothing will be off limits. I'll ruin every last bit of your reputation. I'll erase any doubt in anyone's mind that you McMahons are as rotten and perverse as we all assumed. Got that?" He paused again for just another second and then added, with a snarl, "Whore."
Ric's jaw dropped in shock. Hunter did not back down from his threat, he did not look away, and his expression never softened. He watched his ex-wife try and hide the disbelief and hurt she felt. She took a step backwards and met Ric's stare for a millisecond. A strange look of pain and shame contorted her face before she hung her head and quickly escaped the room.
Guilt filled Ric's stomach but shock paralyzed him. There was a moment of silence as the two men listened to the suite's door click shut behind Stephanie. Ric pivoted towards the bed but found it difficult to look at Hunter. He felt more remorse for Stephanie than he had ever felt for anyone.
Without speaking, he prepared some more medicine and water. Hunter grumbled words of thanks before rolling over to sleep again. For the remainder of the morning and early afternoon, this pattern continued. Ric showered and brooded over room service while Hunter napped off and on restoring his strength.
It wasn't until the late afternoon when Hunter felt healthy enough to finally leave the bed. Ric helped him get to his feet and waited a moment to ensure Hunter was balanced before leaving him to shower and change. From behind the bathroom door, the champion instructed him to organize their travel plans to Raw.
Ric did so without hesitation. They would attend the show and then take the next three days off. They did so after every pay-per-view. Ric hadn't ever looked forward to the time off so much. This sentiment was soon proven mutual as Hunter made a phone call in the next room. Ric stood in the doorway and listened to Hunter answer his mother's questions.
"I'm alright."
"I am, I promise."
"Don't be worried. I'm okay."
"No, mom, there's no fixing it."
"What do you want me to say? Shawn and I are just two very different people."
"No, we have Raw tonight."
"I know, but then I'll be off for a few days."
"Oh. I'm happy about it too, believe me."
"I'm okay."
"Yes."
"No, mom."
Ric felt the atmosphere change. Hunter stood, with his cellphone balanced on his shoulder while he buttoned his shirt. His shoulders tensed at something his mother said.
"I was with Ric."
"Yeah, he made sure I was alright."
"I'm alright, ma."
Softly, he said, "I was in good hands."
"Yes, I promise."
"I will. I love you too."
Hanging up the phone after wishing his mother goodbye, Hunter took a moment to look down at his feet. Ric watched the younger man's reflection in the mirror and saw his demeanor had finally softened. This wasn't unusual as Hunter typically settled after speaking to his parents. But Rick sensed a bit of embarrassment this time. He chose not to comment, wanting nothing more than to return to the time before the match. When his protégé's former marriage was nothing more than a silly interest and he had not heard Hunter lash out so viciously at the woman that had taken care of him without sleep, question, or hesitation.
"The things I said earlier," started Hunter, still looking down, "about Steph. Don't repeat it. Sh –"
"I wasn't gonna, man. Don't worry." Ric was desperate to ease the tension so he smiled. "Everyone knows that family's got some freaky shit going on."
Hunter's face twisted. Ric didn't know if it was in disgust or pain. Clearly his throat, and timidly meeting Ric's eyes, he said, "She was 16."
A dreadful, pregnant pause.
"What?"
"She was just a kid," continued Hunter, looking down again. "It wasn't her fault."
Ric's eyes continued to widen as the realization of Hunter's words set in. Shock and repulsion mixed to send his head reeling. The sound of Hunter's voice cracking simultaneously grounded him and skyrocketed his blood pressure.
"Don't say anything," Hunter met his eyes, "to anyone, please."
Ric's stomach turned. Charlotte was 16. And he was not a good man, but he now knew, at least, he was a better man than Vince McMahon. Because he would never use his daughter like that. He kept his children away from the business. He protected them from the greed and violence of his profession. It was what any father would do.
His interest in understanding Hunter's former relationship had suddenly taken on a whole new form. Where his curiosity before was fueled by entertainment, he now wondered, sadly, if there was any chance of the two reconciling. He suddenly wanted the woman who had stared at Hunter so lovingly to be back under his protection. And for her to never be spoken to like that again.
He realized Hunter was still looking at him for an answer, his face inquisitive and covered in shame.
"I won't say anything."
Both men nodded. Hunter turn again to finish buttoning his shirt, but avoided his own reflection in the mirror.