TripSteph03, scoffie05, HHHungry, and PlayTheGame, I can't thank you guys enough for your Chapter 6 reviews. They were all just so lovely. I scrambled to get this chapter ready for you all. Thanks again! I hope you love this one. This chapter was the very first I wrote for this story. It birthed Lovely.

No Mercy 2003

"Coincidence"

Ric Flair had family in Baltimore. It was the only reason Hunter was in the same city as her and the God-awful pay-per-view. To further the coincidence, or because of demonic-intervention, they were in the same hospital as each other too. Ric's niece was sick, very sick. And though their relationship had begun as a bit of a mentorship, it was now in the realm of best friends. For the past year, Ric had been by his side through good and bad. Hunter felt obligated to return the favor.

Which meant he watched No Mercy from a waiting room down the hall from the Pediatric ICU in John Hopkins Hospital. He was alone; free to react to the television with huffs, sighs, and scoffs. Until her match.

If you could call it a match; which Taz and Cole were. He knew no one could intervene. He knew it would be a beat down. And he knew that it would be painful to watch. People had quipped to him about the match and had asked if he was happy to be away from all the McMahon family drama for once. Hunter laughed and joked about his ex-wife's predicament. But he didn't mean it.

In general, he didn'treally wish her well. He smirked at any misfortunes that came her way. He supported any and all of Bischoff's attempts to sabotage her position as the SmackDown General Manager. But seeing her be physically hurt; it made him feel… weird. He didn't like it. It set him on edge and stirred up old feelings. Feelings that ought to have died alongside his trust in her, their marriage, and any love between them.

It was only the day before that confirmed he'd be in Baltimore the same night as the Father vs. Daughter match. Since then, he kept feeling the urge to go to the arena; to interfere. But he couldn't and he wouldn't. She meant nothing to him now despite his discomfort with watching her be tossed around.

So he sat in total silence in a cold hospital waiting room under piercing fluorescent lights and watched Vince pummel Stephanie. One of his hands clenched onto the arm of his chair, the other was balled in a fist over his mouth. A lead pipe had entered into the fight. She was being choked out. He was a second away from crying out to the television when Linda threw a white towel into the ring. He was relieved when the tension left his body.

That was it. She was gone from SmackDown. It was what he had been wanting since she was announced as the GM. He didn't have to see her anymore. No more run-ins at joint pay-per-views. No more watching her on Thursday nights. Out of sight, out of mind. Hunter didn't need or want to be reminded of his past.

He watched the rest of the show with far less reactions than before the McMahon spectacle. When it ended, he paced around the room. A teary-eyed Ric approached him an hour later.

"Hey, man," the two embraced. "I can't thank you enough for being here."

"Don't. You'd do the same for me." Hunter watched Ric sniffle and listened when he recounted his niece's progress.

"That's great, Ric."

"Yeah, thank God. The doctors should be back for their rounds soon. I'm gonna wait to hear that and then we can get out of here. Get some food."

"Sounds good, " Hunter followed Ric into the hallway. "I'll go grab the car. You take your time, alright?"

"Yeah," but Ric had stopped and was staring at him.

"What?"

The older man fiddled with the cell phone in his hand, "I, uh, got some texts from a few of my boys from SmackDown,"

Hunter looked away.

"She's here," Ric said, looking concerned.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

An awkward moment of silence before Ric spoke again, making Hunter meet his eyes.

"Did you watch?"

Gulping, Hunter answered, "Yes."

"I heard it was –"

"We can talk about it later. You take care of your family and meet me outside."

They nodded at each other before parting. Both of them knew they wouldn't be discussing it later.

Hunter made his way down the hall and hated how it felt like he was walking in quicksand. Like his body and the hospital were trying to keep him there, near to her. There were several people entering the available elevator when he reached it so he waited for the next one. It gave him time to read the directory.

Would she be in the ER? Or a private room already?

He looked down at his watch. It had been just about two hours since her match. Most people would still be waiting in the emergency room. But her family was powerful and wealthy. She was probably on an upper floor. How the hell was he supposed to find her room?

No! You're not finding her. You don't care. She deserves everything that comes to her. The image of Vince strangling her with the pipe flashed across his mind and he felt a stab of guilt. He shook his head as he got on the elevator with a group of others. Patient families and medical personnel buzzed around him. He half listened.

"I really hope they discharge him tomorrow."

"Did you get Dr. Wilson's memo?"

"Want to try that new Thai place tomorrow?

"Oh my God! That wrestling family is here."

Wait! What? He tuned into the conversation being had by two nurses at the front of the elevator.

"Yeah, I heard! I think there was some kind of accident."

Noise as the doors opened to a new floor and the nurses stepped aside to let an elderly couple off. Hunter used the opportunity to move closer to them. They continued talking when the doors shut.

"Sheryl texted me, she was floated to 3B tonight, and she said the daughter can't breathe."

"That's –"

But Hunter had stopped listening. Stephanie couldn't breathe? She was in 3B, whatever that was. The elevator stopped again. Everyone but him exited onto the fifth floor. His eyes fell to the board of buttons to the right of the closing doors. The number one glowed red but he was staring at number three. He had two seconds to decide. The doors slide shut as he punched the number three with his index finger.

Stepping off onto the third floor, the wall opposite of him dictated the location of patient rooms. Rooms 301-324 were to the left. They were labeled as Unit A. An arrow to the right listed Rooms 325-350. Unit B. He was on the third floor. 3B. This had to be it. He took a few steps towards the 3B hallway.

A familiar blonde bob caught his eye.

The sight of his ex-mother-in-law seemed to pull him like a magnet down the hallway. She was agitated, talking quickly on her cell phone. When he approached, their eyes locked and he was taken aback by her outward sigh of relief at seeing him. She thought nothing of his presence, like he was supposed to be there. She dropped her phone to her side, hanging up on the caller.

It was like being taken back in time.

"Hunter," Linda let his name hang in the air for a moment. Tears were in her eyes. "Did you see what happened?"

He looked away. He was ashamed to have watched and done nothing.

"Yeah."

"Oh my God, Hunter. It was so bad," her voice cracked and Hunter found himself embracing the older woman. She cried quietly on his shoulder for several minutes. It felt awkward for him, but she took the comfort he offered.

Her cell phone interrupted them. Still in her hand, it vibrated against his chest as the generic ring rang throughout the hallway. They both ignored several looks from passerby medical assistants as she silenced the device.

"People have been calling non-stop. The whole roster is panicking," a brief image of Kurt Angle had him fighting an eye roll.

"How did things get like this, Linda?"

"Vince," she looked up at him at a loss. "He's worse than he's ever been. I don't understand it. He's been on a warpath for months now. He hasn't come home. He's got Sable at the penthouse in New York and doesn't answer my calls."

"And what about with…" He let the question drift. He couldn't remember the last time he actually said her name.

A sad smile pulled at the corners of Linda's mouth.

"I don't know," she looked towards the closed patient room door behind her. "All those years fighting with him about her. He spoiled her rotten. Now she's finally grown up and he's shunned her. I don't get it."

When she turned back to look at him, it was to see longing on his face. He too had been looking towards the door. Quickly, an impassive mask replaced his expression.

"Would you like to see her?" Linda didn't even attempt to hide the encouragement in her tone. She didn't want to be alone in this. She sniffled and wiped her wet eyes as an added incentive. Fucking McMahons.

When Hunter looked nervous, she added, "She's asleep. They," sincere emotion interrupted her then and she cleared her throat to continue. "They sedated her. She kept getting worked up and couldn't breathe."

A fresh wave of tears hit Linda with a force. She buried her face in her hands allowing the emotion to leave her. Hunter placed a hand on her back, but offered no more support. A lump had formed in his throat and he was still looking at the door with apprehension.

"Mrs. McMahon," a nurse interrupted their shared misery. "The attending sent for a otolaryngologist to come check on your daughter. He should be down within the hour."

"Oh okay." The nurse handed Linda some tissues which she took with a quiet thanks. Another moment and the matriarch seemed to compose herself.

"I'm sorry, Hunter. This isn't your problem anymore."

He avoided her eyes uncomfortably, "Is there anyone coming to help you?"

"Shane landed almost an hour ago. He should be here soon."

She didn't look to him for an answer and he didn't offer one. Hunter watched her quietly open the door to her daughter's room and enter. She left the door ajar behind her, letting him choose. He looked to his left, down the hallway and towards the exit. He could leave. He should leave. There was nothing for him here. The older woman had even said it, this wasn't his problem anymore; this insane family that he had once been a part of.

But that magnet still pulled him. That invisible, undeniable pull that led him down the hallway was now pulling him passed the room's threshold. His feet dragged across the floor. When he shut the door behind him, the busy sounds of the hospital were deafened. A calm, persistent beep filled the quiet room. His ex-wife's heartbeat was being monitored.

He delayed looking up at the patient bed by watching his feet take a few more steps into the room.

"I don't think she'll wake up."

At Linda's whisper, he looked to her and then, finally, to the motionless younger woman. Hunter was robbed of breath.

Stephanie looked lifeless. Still in her ring gear, a sheet covered her legs and hips. Her arms lay limp at her sides with her palms open and unmoving. An IV was attached to her left arm and a pulse oximeter was clamped around her index finger. Her head leaned to one side, facing him. An oxygen mask partially covered her face. It emphasized, and oddly complimented, her cheekbones.

He felt sick looking at her. Disgusted with Vince and himself all at once. But he couldn't look away.

"He could have crushed her throat, that's what the doctors said."

Eyes still on Stephanie, he briefly thought of Rob Van Dam and the Elimination Chamber the year before. The pain he had felt, taking his opponent's knee to the neck and then even more pain in the hospital later that night. It had been excruciating. But Rob hadn't done it on purpose. And Rob wasn't his father.

Vince had. Vince McMahon had choked his own daughter with a lead pipe and had almost crushed her throat. And no one did a damn thing about it; including him. He thought back to the first time they had ever spoken to each other. She had approached him with an idea, a plan. He would get back his title and she would gain her freedom. He hadn't taken her seriously in 1999.

"Go back to your daddy, princess. It's not safe here."

"I'm safer here than anywhere with him."

Hunter tore his eyes away from Stephanie and all the tubes that were attached to her. He studied Linda as she stroked the top of her daughter's head. He hadn't ever known them to be close. During their marriage, his ex-wife seemed to only have eyes for him and her father. Things had obviously changed in the year and a half since their divorce.

His curiosity propelled him to approach the opposite side of the bed. He was close enough to Stephanie to touch her, if he wanted. For several minutes he stood staring at the two women. He listened to Linda ramble on, speaking more to herself than to him. Though he assumed she found consolation in his silent presence.

"She should have just quit. I told her so. We could've figured out another way to get through this. She's worked so hard to turn things around. She's different. No more games. You wouldn't even recognize her, Hunter." She paused for a moment, "But that temper. God, she's always had that temper. How did we get here? My baby," the older woman's voice croaked as she looked towards him. "How could Vince do this to his own flesh and blood? She's always been his favorite."

Hunter met her eyes but didn't speak. He didn't know what to say. What had happened was horrifying. Everyone knew that. He kept up with Smackdown. He knew she didn't ask for this; she hadn't done anything to deserve it. But Vince could be vindictive and cruel. She had threatened him in some way. The Chairman lashed out most venomously when he felt insecure.

He felt Linda watching him as he looked towards Stephanie again. Her chest rose and fell almost in time with the beeping of the heart monitor. He was close enough to see goose bumps on her skin.

"She's cold."

Her mother moved swiftly to a stack of blankets on a table opposite of the hospital bed. The blankets were white with two small stripes on either end, pastel blue and pink. His mind thought wildly of baby swaddles. And then of her lie. And how much he hated her. Eyes focused on her sternum, and not her unconscious face, he felt every faded feeling of malice rise to the forefront of his mind and chest. It manifested on his face.

When Linda finished draping a blanket over her daughter's body, she looked to him and her eyes widened with shock and hurt. He was sneering. She gripped Stephanie's hand with both of hers, comfortingly, protectively. As though Stephanie were awake and aware of her ex-husband's disgusted expression.

Fresh tears swelled in Linda's eyes.

"She's changed, Hunter."

He wrinkled his nose in disbelief and Linda looked heartbroken when she tore her eyes from him to Stephanie's face.

"It's what changed her."

There was no need to clarify the 'it.'

A commotion in the hallway snapped them both into the present. Confusion and fear held Linda in place. Hunter took a step towards the door, but then Shane's voice boomed from the opposite side.

"I'll show you my ID after I've seen my sister!"

Halting, the wrestler allowed Mrs. McMahon to quickly brush passed him and leave the room. He could hear her try and quell Shane and the security's tantrums through the door. He knew they would argue for just another moment. History had taught him that the McMahons rarely lost a confrontation. It was time for him to leave.

He turned to take one last look at his ex-wife.

The uproar had disturbed her. Her brow was frowned in discomfort and the fingers of her right hand twitched. Her eyes were still closed. It really was time for him to leave. But that magnet. That pull was still there and he was powerless against it. Two small strides and he was at her bedside again. With one hand on the bed's safety bar, he rested the other beside her twitching fingers on the mattress. He leaned over her.

Eyes glued to her face, he half listened to the muffled argument in the hallway and wondered how well the doctors had sedated her. She seemed fidgety now that he was closer. He should leave.

"Telling me to calm down, won't make me calm down!"

Shane's shout was answered with an almost equally loud retort from security. Stephanie's long eyelashes fluttered. Her fingers bumped his and electricity singed up his arm. He ducked his head closer. What the hell am I doing here?

"Steph?"

His whisper was so quiet; he could barely hear it himself. But her eyes opened all the same.

The drugs were still partially working. She seemed disoriented. She flexed her hand again, their knuckles bumped. At the touch, she looked upwards, towards him. He kept his expression neutral as she came to.

Stephanie searched his face, confused, and he knew a moment of terrible fear. Was there something wrong with her? Mentally, not just physically. Had her father caused even more damage than they knew? But then she met his eyes and recognition reflected within them.

She gasped into the breathing mask and he felt himself drown in the blue of her eyes. She stared at him as though he was water and she was dying of thirst. She was trying to communicate something, but all he could see was desperation. His peripheral vision saw her lips moving, but her voice wouldn't come. Another gasp fogged the clear mask around her mouth and nose.

And then another electrical jolt as she touched his hand. He broke their stare to watch her ring and pinky fingers curl around his thumb. Her grip was weak, half conscious. He didn't move. Eyes moving up her body from their hands, he listened as she struggled to speak. She only managed a quiet wheeze. It was painful to even hear it.

"Shh," he whispered to her.

Tears of frustration swelled in her eyes and quickly spilled over. He pulled his hand from hers to wipe them away, and then onto the blanket covering her.

The blanket.

Baby pink and baby blue stripes. He met her stare again. He hadn't cared if they had a boy or a girl. Hunter had just wanted a baby with those blue eyes of hers. The anger rose again. Would it ever quell? Would he ever be able to remember that time and not feel angry? Clenching his jaw, he watched her react to his sudden change in demeanor.

The eyes he now wished would never reproduce, reeled with hurt. More tears leaked from them but he didn't wipe them away. They were instantly able to silently communicate with each other again. His disappointment in her radiated off of him. Stephanie managed to look even more defeated without moving a muscle.

Their stare continued as he heard Linda and Shane enter the room. When he moved to leave her bedside, his ex-wife's body jolted. Eyes wide, her mouth opened and closed beneath the mask.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

Shane was at Hunter's side in a second, angry and looking at him accusingly.

But then he looked to hospital bed.

"Stephanie," her brother's tone lost its aggression at the sight of his sister. Horrified, he added, "Oh my God."

Hunter took two steps backwards. Linda looked to him but said nothing. Shane was leaning over his sister trying to get her attention. But Stephanie, once again, had eyes only for Hunter. They were still wide and panicked. Her breathing had elevated and the heart monitor began to beep erratically.

"What did you say to her?" Linda sounded desperate as Shane's frightened face looked to Hunter.

"Nothing," he whispered, watching Stephanie in awe.

She was begging him to stay. Strangled, incoherent sounds were muffled under the oxygen mask and her chest rose and fell dramatically. She was fighting to talk but her throat wouldn't allow it. She was hyperventilating.

"Someone help!" Shane was hysterical. In a moment, a nurse joined him and Linda, crowding around the youngest McMahon, trying to calm her down. They blocked her view of Hunter.

He bolted from the room. If his pace increased any further, he'd be running. He moved down the hallway, passed the elevator, and to the stairwell. He flung the door open and ran down the stairs. It took him barely a minute to reach the first floor. He sped across the lobby to the main exit and gasped the autumn air into his lungs. He shouldn't have gone. He shouldn't have seen her. He thought of her wheezing into the oxygen mask, the fear and pain in her eyes. He looked back at the hospital.

No!

Hunter pictured the blanket. He conjured up the hurt that he disguised as hate and walked to the parking lot.

He and Ric discussed nothing of importance over a late-night dinner. Ric's niece was, hopefully, on the mend. He didn't want to dwell. The Father-Daughter Match was equivalent to a live grenade within the restaurant bar. Neither Ric nor Hunter touched it. Instead, they discussed the weather and politics. Both of them mildly interested with far away stares. There was no tension between them. Now the best of friends, The Game and The Nature Boy were more at ease with each other than they were anyone else. Ric didn't comment on Hunter pushing his food around his plate, hardly eating anything.

But afterwards, when they both departed to their separate hotel rooms, it was only Ric who slept peacefully. Hunter chose to empty his room's mini-bar at a record speed. He didn't bother mixing the liquor with soda or juice. He downed the nips consecutively, barely cringing at the intensity of the vodka, whiskey, scotch, and gin. When he ran out, he commanded that room service bring him more. Within the hour, his vision was blurred from impairment.

He lay on his back, staring at the now doubled ceiling fan, wishing he were anyone else. Then he wished he was strong enough to let her go, to forget her or forgive her, and move on.

No. You wanna be weak. You wanna grovel. You wanna crawl back to her. Imagine that? The Game. A fucking coward, too pathetic to find someone else.

It hurt to swallow the lump in his throat, but he did it anyway. Then he flipped open his cell phone and scrolled down to her name.

A text. Send a text.

It sounded like a good idea. So he texted her; all night. He sent message after message.

I'm sorry.

Are you okay?

I love you.

Please forgive me. I was wrong about everything.

Everything.

Before anything even happened, I was wrong. I was so wrong.

I love you so much, Stephanie. I hate everyone else.

I'm sorry.

I miss you so much. I'm lonely all the time.

I'll fucking kill Vince.

Sorry.

I know you love him.

I love you too. I love you more than he does.

Steph, I'm so sorry.

Please, baby. I can't do this anymore. I can't live without you. I want to die everyday. I hate the title. I hate the women I've been with.

I hate myself.

I love you.

Please come back to me.

So many messages. He was horrified when he woke up to housekeeping knocking on his door. His head spun and his stomach clenched, but he found a bit of comfort in the cold shower he took before checking his phone.

She never answered.

Like she should, the back of his mind taunted. You're a fucking mess and she deserves better.

He read back all his texts and wanted to vomit. Or maybe that was the alcohol? He counted how many times he sent 'I love you.' Nope, it definitely was not the alcohol. He'd spewed everything. She knew now just how much he pretended to be okay. She knew he was lost. She knew he wanted her, loved her, more than ever. He needed her.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Ugh, you fucking loser. You need her? Really? How about you man the fuck up and treat her like it then. Why didn't you stop her dad? Why do you keep punishing her?

The questions swarmed in his head until he really was puking. He leaned over the toilet and was ill until every ounce of liquor was expelled from his stomach. Then he brushed his teeth while staring at his phone. He should call her. Just get it over with.

For one, fleeting moment, Hunter felt relief like no other. His heart swelled and pounded with the realization that he'd be talking to her. Really talking to her. He'd have to own up to the messages. He couldn't hide anymore. It was an electrifying moment of awareness of his own soul. And how tightly it was bound to hers. Her voice, he needed to hear it like he needed his very next breath.

He didn't have to hide anymore.

Then the other line jingled its death tune.

"The number you have dialed is no longer in service."