Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Lily and Madison.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Past Mpreg, Storyline Fic, etc.

OOOO

Hunter made quick work of the remaining paperwork, and resolved to reexamine the contract for a WrestleMania match between himself and Daniel Bryan at a later date. A dull ache had started to form in his arm, around the area where it had been broken just last year by Brock Lesnar, and Hunter knew exactly why. He shuddered to think what would happen to the Dead Man's streak should he be caught in that offending Kimora Lock, or the damage that would be done to the Dead Man's psyche should Brock Lesnar find a way to beat the streak. The streak, after all, was all that he had left.

Once he had finished, he gathered up Lily and made for the door. He threw his satchel over his shoulder along the way and handed Lily her little Barbie-themed backpack, watching as she slowly and carefully slipped it over her shoulders. He didn't know why she wanted to carry an empty backpack, but the look of pleasant contentment on her tiny face made it rather easy for him to keep his silence. His stride was quick and confident, and she shuffled slowly behind him. It would seem as if he was not the only one with something on his mind. When he came upon the elevator, he pressed the 'down' button.

"You feeling alright, sweetie?" Hunter asked. He adjusted the satchel at his side, using his free hand to ruffle her locks affectionately.

"Yeah, 'm fine." But, from the way that she was digging her feet into the floor, staring anywhere but at Hunter, he knew that she was not telling him the truth. "We go home, Mommy?"

Hunter offered her a sympathetic glance. He wouldn't push the matter, though. "Yeah, we're going home. It's really late and way past your bedtime, anyhow." He paused, then, "Do you want me to read you a story before you go to bed?"

Lily never turned down a story, but tonight seemed to be different. "No thanks."

The elevator arrived and they both entered inside, watching silently as the doors slid shut behind them. Hunter pressed the button for the 'ground floor', before taking several steps back and leaning against the wall. Lily just stood in the middle of the elevator, rocking back and forth on her heels and staring at the wooden floor. Something was very obviously wrong, but what? With a soft ding, the doors swished open and both filed out. Hunter offered Lily his hand, but instead of taking it, she merely grabbed onto the material of his pants. She sniffed and continued to stare at the floor as they made their way into the parking garage.

Hunter located the car and opened the door, undoing the straps of the child safety seat and placing Lily into it. As he started to buckle her in, he tried once more, "Do you want any of your dollies?" She shook her head. "Do you want me to put in a movie?"

"Go home." This was all that she said. Hunter took that to mean that she didn't want to see a movie.

Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Her blue eyes slid closed, and re-opened when Hunter drew back. "Hmm… you're a little warm. Are you sure that you're okay?"

Once again, all the little girl said was, "Go home."

OOOO

Hunter entered the bedroom after tucking Lily into bed, a look of distinctive worry on his face. "I think that there is something wrong with Lily." He said frankly.

Mark slowly lowered the book that he was reading and offered Hunter a quizzical look, "What makes you say that? She looked fine to me."

"She was with me in my office signing paperwork." Hunter explained. "She could see how anxious I was about… one of the papers…" he forced out that last part in a breathless rush. "I think she might have been feeding off of my distress."

Unfortunately, Mark had heard what he said and just had to ask, "What match could upset you that much?"

Hunter sighed. He now had all of Mark's attention and any attempts at lying or diverting the question would only lead to a fight and a possible night on the couch. He sighed once more and mumbled, "Your match with Brock Lesnar."

"You approved it?" From his tone, it was clear that Mark hadn't expected to hear that.

"Yes… Yes, but… I was so upset afterword and I think that she fed off of it." Hunter said, remembering how he had shook.

Mark cocked his head to the side. "Why is it upsetting you so much?" Subconsciously, Hunter stroked a hand over the arm that he been broken last year by Brock Lesnar. Mark caught it. "That's not going to happen."

Hunter didn't mean for it to come across as hopeless and insecure-sounding as it did, but he whispered, "How can you be so sure?" Because nobody, not even the 'great' Paul Heyman, knew what was going through the beast's head.

Now, it was Mark's turn to sigh. It was unusual to see Hunter so visibly distressed – it was even more unusual for him to show such discomfort in front of their daughter, Lily. The only other time that it had occurred had been after their WrestleMania encounter three years earlier, where Mark had to be carted off in an ambulance because he couldn't get to his feet. There had been an entire slew of fears about possible injuries, potential surgeries, and, of course, there was the risk that he'd never again be able to lace up his boots and enter the squared circle as a competitor. Hunter had suffered with the enormous weight of knowing he was the cause.

Lily had started to pick up on Hunter's discontent and had started to demand that they spend more and more time at the hospital, and if Hunter should try to refuse, she would refuse to take naps, do her work, and once, even refused to eat. Hunter had since tried incredibly hard to house his emotions inside, but this… he didn't know how to feel about this. Brock Lesnar was about to walk back into their lives and turn everything upside down again, and Hunter wasn't sure that he could handle the emotional turmoil of the streak finally meeting its bitter end. He didn't know what would become of them if the streak ended.

If he were to be really honest with himself, then he would admit that he knew exactly what this was about. He knew how much the streak meant to his husband… but he didn't know where he stood in comparison to the streak. He couldn't take the match away from Mark, because he knew that Mark deserved a say in his opponent – and, really, Brock Lesnar vs. The Undertaker was best for business. But if he kept the match and Mark lost… the streak meant everything to Mark. And as emotionally straining as nursing him through his post-war battle wounds would be, he couldn't even begin to comprehend the potential pain of Mark leaving him.

"Hey, hey," Mark offered him a half-smirk, half-smile. "The odds are currently in my favor, considering there are currently no stipulations. If he starts going all psycho, like he has recently, he'll be disqualified."

"Yeah…" Hunter trailed off, ashamed to admit that that was not what he was most worried about.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you know that… why are you so worried about it?"

"I don't know." Hunter said, sighing exasperatedly. "I just don't know, okay?" But he did know, and that was the problem. "Anyhow… do you think Lily could stay with you tomorrow? I have to film Main Event and I think it will be good for her."

Mark looked confused at the prospect of ever denying care to his daughter. "Of course she can. But she might be upset about you leaving her behind. She loves going to the arena with you."

"I'm thinking that, maybe after tonight, it would be best to leave her behind for a little while." He said.

A pause, then, "She knows about Brock Lesnar, Hunter. She knows what he did to you. She's just scared."

Hunter gave a frustrated grunt, "Yeah, she's scared and I have no clue how to make it better. I'm an utterly fantastic parent."

Mark rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Hunter started to strip out of his clothes, careful to avoid the still-sensitive area on his abdomen were the doctor had cut for the C-section. Quickly, he dressed in his pajamas, more than a little put-off by the slight chill in the room. Walking up to the large four-poster bed, he turned down the blankets on his side and slid underneath them. During this time, Mark had resumed his book. It seemed to be a rather interesting text, filled with the doom and gloom that was common in Gothic literature. The doom and gloom of the earlier topic seemed almost entirely forgotten.

Hunter plopped down, back away from Mark, and started to tug at the threads that made up the green satin sheets on the bed. "You meet up with Brock Lesnar for the contract signing next Monday on RAW."

Without pausing, Mark responded, "I'll be there."