Jeff made his way into the arena; discontent and wishing he was somewhere else. His strides proved that. He wasn't really walking, more like a slow, plodding meander. He waited, not very patiently, as the security guard checked him in and offered directions to his locker room. After he passed the security check in point, he looked up and groaned, seeing that the day from hell wasn't get going to get any better. "Here comes baby sitter number one, right on schedule."

"Hardy!" Ric Flair greeted jubilantly, a wide smile on his lips. The older man had gone out of his way to be extremely friendly to him since his return but he knew that it was at the behest of their boss, Vince McMahon. Still, he had to hand it to older man. He was thorough and determined. When Ric was looking for you, you couldn't escape. No matter how hard you tried. "You're here early."

"Yeah, smooth flight and no traffic." He responded dully, not bothering to muster any enthusiasm. Life sucked and he didn't feel the need to pretend otherwise. Too bad he couldn't voice his opinion out loud. If he did, he'd have to deal with a lot more than just annoying babysitters. He didn't have the energy or desire to convince a physiatrist that he wasn't about to spiral down again. "Lucky me, huh?"

"Every now and then, things work out like you want them to." The former sixteen time world champion intoned sagely and his gaze turned studious. He struggled to keep his features distant and apathetic but it seemed like the veteran could see right through his carefully crafted façade. "But you seem kind of down. Something on your mind?"

That was a loaded question, one he had no intention of answering truthfully. No one in the company knew about his relationship with Trish and he had no intention of letting anything slip now. He knew what he had to do to end this conversation. "Nope, not down at all. Why would I be? I'm the soon to be Intercontinental Champion. All's right in the world."

"That's my boy!" Ric clapped him on the shoulder, his broad smile once again back to full wattage. "I have to meet with Arn. I'll see you later kid."

"Later." He tossed out quickly, relief flooding through him and hurried down the hallway. However, his relief was short-lived. His body tensed as he saw babysitters two and three approaching him. He inclined his head, "Hey Shawn, Paul."

The two members of DX nodded, grinning slightly but didn't stop to talk. He kept his pace brisk, enjoying the temporary reprieve. Solitude was the only thing keeping him semi-sane these days. His steps slowed as he neared the production office. He walked over to the dry-erase board that listed the night's matches and took a deep breath. His name was up there, opposite Johnny Nitro's and it was in green. That made it official. Tonight, he'd win his second Intercontinental championship.

"Hey Jeff…" A voice to his right greeted tentatively, "Congrats."

A little pang shot through him as he turned his head toward Amy. Once upon a time, they had been friends or to be more accurate, she was like the sister he never had. But circumstances changed the relationship and now, she was little more than babysitter number four to him. "Thanks."

She chewed pensively on her lip and shifted from one foot to the other as an awkward silence settled over them. Obviously, it got too much for her to tolerate anymore because she released an overly loud puff of air and forced a smile. "Well, I have to go find Adam and talk about tonight. I'll see you around."

"See ya." His mouth twisted in a frown as he watched her hasty departure.

Did they all have to be so transparent? He knew that he was being watched. No need to keep parading people in front of him as a reminder. With a shake of his head, he pushed his thoughts from his mind and started moving again. He wanted to make it to his locker room before babysitter number five found him. As cool as Shane McMahon could be, he talked way too damn much. Of course that was better than babysitter number six, the infamous Johnny Ace.

He finally found his locker room and quickly ducked inside. He dropped his bag down onto the wooden bench with a heavy, despondent sigh. His body followed suit, tiredly flopping down on the bench. He leaned his aching head against the cement wall and closed his eyes, determined to enjoy what little peace he had left. But unfortunately, life rarely worked out the way he wanted it to.

He hadn't been in there long before the door opened and someone else entered the room. When the person's footsteps halted abruptly, he knew that whoever had come hadn't expected anyone else to be there already. He briefly considered greeting his roommate but decided against it, not feeling up to making idle conversation.

"Uh…Jeff?"

It was a woman's voice and quickly caught his attention. He opened his eyes and rolled his head toward the sound, his gaze finding Maria. "Yeah?"

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, why?"

She was fighting a grin and losing, "Because you're in the women's locker room. Now unless there's something I don't know about you, I don't think this is where you're supposed to be."

"Shit!" Jeff jumped to his feet and grabbed his bag, face flaming in embarrassment. He knew that he should just scurry away but he felt like he had to explain what happened; before it got completely twisted and made it's way around backstage. "Sorry, the damn security guard gave me the wrong room number. I had no idea…"

"Don't worry about it." She interrupted his rambling apology with a smile and then offered him a wink. "It'll be our little secret."

"Thanks. Already have the reputation of being weird, no need to add pervert to it." He gave her a grateful nod as he crossed the room and hurried out into the corridor. When the metal door banged shut, he leaned against the wall and blew out a ragged breath.

"I better get it together, before someone thinks I've lost my mind and I end up in a mental institution."