Mark's eyes were closed, oblivious to what was going through Rose's mind. She sat there, eyes fluttering open and closed in shock, completely at a loss for what to do next. Her body was paralysed, nothing except her lips seemed to be moving.
"Mark," she said as her voice suddenly returned. "Stop." Mark giggled a little bit, thinking she was just playing.
But Rose pushed him off her. "Stop, now!"
Mark sat back, eyes wide. He was afraid. Had he gone too far? "What?"
"I...this...it doesn't feel right."
The words blew over Mark like a harsh wind. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."
"I liked it," Rose interrupted desperately. "I'm not saying I didn't like it...it just didnt feel like the right thing to do."
"What do you mean?" Mark asked. "If you like it, how come it doesn't feel right?"
Not sure how to answer the question, Rose went suddenly quiet. She looked down at the floor, away from Mark. Mark followed her dejected gaze to the ground.
"I'm really sorry, i shoulda controlled myself," Mark said quietly. "Fourteen years of showmanship and I completely lose it like a total rookie."
"Don't do that," Rose said.
"What?" Mark asked, mystefied.
"Blame yourself," Rose clarified. You didn't know what was going to happen."
"Are you alright?" Mark asked. He went to put a comforting hand on Rose's shoulder, but she backed off.
"I just...need some air," Rose said, then she stood up and, ignoring Mark's protests, left the room.
"Hey Rose!" Came a voice, halfway down the corridor. Rose threw a fleeting glance behind her and saw Glen coming down the corridor towards her. She turned away and walked faster. She didn't want anything to do with anyone right now.
"Hey! Wait up, where's the fire?"
"Glen, SHUT UP!" Rose yelled, turning, shouting, turning back and storming off in one swift movement.
Glen froze on the spot, right outside the door to Mark's room. He stared at her quizically, then at the door. "What the hell is going on here?" he said to himself. Then he knocked on the door.
Rose paced around in the confined space of the elevator, her mind in total disarray. She was shocked, she was saddened, she was confused. She felt literally like she had just kissed her brother. Not metaphorically, but physically. After a tortuous wait, the doors clinged open and she stepped out onto the corridor of the 21st floor of the building. She hurried out, not really sure where she was going. She had walked dazedly halfway down the corridor before she realised where she was. She was on the same floor as Amy Dumas.
Rose made a split-second, on the spot decision. She walked down the hallway until she found Amy's room, and knocked.
A ruffled, towel-clad Amy answered, surprised to see Rose there at all, let alone in a state of total mess.
"Rose?" She said, surprised. "What's going on? What is it?" Of course she could tell that something awful had just happened.
"It's...It's..." Rose steeled herself and tried to control her breathing. "It's Mark."
Amy looked either side of the door then ushered Rose inside. She sat her on the bed and sat next to her. "What about him?"
"He...he told me he had feelings for me," Rose said. "And he kissed me."
Amy's eyes were wide in shock. She didn't know much about Rose and Mark but Glen had told her repeatedly that they were like family. "What?!"
"I don't know what to do," Rose went on. She cradled her head in her hands. "I'm so confused."
"Tell me what happened," Amy said, putting a hand around Rose's shoulder. Rose leaned against her friend's chest, a tear rolling softly down her cheek.
"Well, he hadn't been in a good mood all day," Rose began. "So when we got back to the hotel room we talked about it. He told me that he had feelings...feelings he hadn't felt in four years."
Amy understood what that meant and where it was going. She knew like most people what had happened between Mark and his ex-wife.
"He told me he liked me, Amy. Not as a sister or as a family member. Before I could say anything he just leaned over and kissed me. And I..." she hesitated. "I liked it, but It just didn't feel right."
"What do you mean?" Amy asked.
"He's my brother, not my lover, I honestly feel like that. Like he is my blood-relative brother. And it felt so wierd to kiss him. Wrong, even."
"But you liked it right?" Amy asked.
"That isn't the point," Rose dismissed. "I felt like I was being incestual."
"Look," Amy said, sitting Rose up and taking her hand. "I know you two have a deep and close friendship but you never know, this could just be the natural evolution of it. How about I go talk to him? You can stay here if you want."
"You'd do that for me?" Rose asked. Amy nodded and smiled. "Of course, we're friends aren't we?"
Rose looked up at the door to see Glen walk in. He had a confused and dismayed look on his face. "I just talked to Mark, he told me what happened. I think you two need to talk it over."
"I'm going for her," Amy said, standing up. "Just let me get some clothes on first."
Glen looked indignant for a moment but Amy silenced him with a look. "Don't argue with me, Glen. This is what Rose wants. I'm going to go talk to Mark. And she is staying here for now, okay?! If what I'm doing is going to help, then I'm doing it."
Glen did what he always did when Amy was adamant about something: he shut up.
Amy walked down the corridor, face alight with determination and curiosity. What the hell was going on between those two? What had Mark been thinking? How could Rose possibly feel? And why, WHY did they have to do this when she was enjoying her day off?
She shook off the selfish thought as she approached Mark's room. She knocked on the door, listening for Mark coming towards it. When he opened it, he was suprised in no small way that Amy was on the other side of it.
"Amy?" he asked. "What're you doing here?"
"I came to talk to you," Amy said flatly. "I want to help you and Rose."
Mark stood back for a moment, wondering why she would want to. Then he heard his own voice. "Did Rose ask you to come?"
"Yes," Amy said, agitation trickling through her words. "She did."
"Well then, come in," Mark said, opening the door.
As Amy stepped in, Mark closed the door a little harder than usual.
Amy sat down on the sofa and looked up expectantly at Mark as he got himself a drink. He didn't offer her one, but she didn't really care. "I've heard Rose's side of the story," she said. "I want to hear yours."
"What is there to say?" Mark said. He downed the glass and placed it on the side.
"Cut the crap, Mark!" Amy said loudly. "What's going on?"
Mark looked indignant for a moment. "Well," he began. "Since the night she got the feeling back in her legs, I've started having feelings for her that I feel aren't appropriate." He searched for the right words. "I mean, last night she slept in my bed, and I wasn't complaining. In fact I was sleeping there right up against her, arm over her stomach, holding her." He stopped, breathless.
Amy looked on and raised an eyebrow. She had her own thoughts here. Maybe Rose had been telling the truth about how Mark had felt, the signs were certainly there. Breathlessness, the glazed eyes, the whistful sentences, the hurried speech...
"Why are you so scared about the feelings you have for her?" Amy asked, point blank. The suddenness and accuracy of Amy's words took Mark completely by surprise. He almost stumbled, but he managed to recover.
"I've treated Rose like a little sister from the day she was born. And now I feel things for her, like...like..."
"Love?" Amy said the word for him, because he seemed to afraid to say it himself. Mark again looked taken aback.
"...Yeah," he said slowly. "And I shouldn't feel like that about her."
"Why not?" Amy said. "Face it, Mark. You're in love."
Mark's face flitted to anger in the space of a blink. "Why her?" He demanded. "Why her, Amy?"
"Because somewhere underneath those rippling pectorals and sinewy muscles, there's a heart. A heart that's found one just like it that it responds to. And you know deep down that she is the only woman in over four years who can make you feel truly happy, no matter what happens in your life."
Mark stared at Amy and suddenly thought he had been missing something about her all along. "That was probably the most insightful, corny thing anyone has ever said to me," he said with a very small smile. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"It's the truth," Amy said. "Isn't it?" She watched Mark's face as he realised that he was totally and helplessly cornered.
"I can't explain that to her though," Mark confessed. "I mean, she's never even had a boyfriend before."
"Do you know why?"
"Yeah," Mark remembered. "She told me it was because guys don't like the way she dressed."
Amy scoffed. She had felt like that once but nowadays it was hard to keep the guys off her even with pepper spray. "Anything else?"
"Yeah, she said she's not exactly a...'girly girl'. She likes Bikes, cars, metal & blues music, she doesn't mind getting her hands dirty..."
"In otherwords the same things as you."
Mark froze. Amy was absolutely right. Again. And it was beginning to annoy him. She was right about his feelings, she was right about the stuff he and Rose had in common, right about his fears...
Amy sat and watched as she saw Mark do something she had never expected him to do, ever. He flopped onto the bed, and burst into tears.
Amy scooped him up (with considerable difficulty) and held him for a few minutes.
"I'm scared," Mark said. Another first. "I'm scared that if I did act any more on those feelings, I'll lose her. I'll lose all the memories, all of those memories in my photo album."
Amy briefly wondered if this was the real Mark Calaway or some impostor in her arms. It was certainly possible. People had often posed as people she knew or exaggerated things and cried a lot, just to get a hug from her. Mostly for physical reasons. One or two had even tried to cop a feel.
"You have a photoalbum of her?" Amy clicked on. Mark nodded, clearing his eyes.
"Yeah, all the pictures I've got of her or me, or both of us, I put them all in that album."
"May I see it?"
Mark sat up, leaned over Amy and retrieved the old, leather-bound volume from a drawer next to the bed. He brought it towards her, wiped off a thin sheen of dust and laid it in her lap.
The first picture Amy saw was an old one, because Mark was wearing his first-version Makeup, from the 80s. But he was smiling, something the Undertaker never did in those very early days. In his arms was a child, a newborn baby wrapped in towelling, with a rose embroidered into it. Amy almost cooed. Mark must have ran from work to see Rose's parents that day. She almost giggled at the thought of the Phenom running through a hospital to find a baby. He must have looked like the Grim Reaper on speed.
A few pictures afterward, a picture of "Rose, 4yrs", in a pink bathing suit. She was sitting on Mark's shoulders. He was almost totally submerged in a pool so only his head and the top of his shoulders were visible. Amy looked through the whole book and suddenly understood Mark's fear of losing Rose.
She looked up at him as she placed the book back into his hands. "You love her more than life itself, don't you?" She asked softly. Mark looked at the book, and silently nodded. A tear was rolling down his cheek.
A loud bleeping stopped Amy from comforting Mark again. Irritably she reached into her pocket and dragged out her cellphone. She listened, becoming more and more alarmed with every second. Mark saw the look of shock and fear on her face.
"What?" Mark demanded as Amy put the phone back into her pocket. "What is it? What's happened?"
"It's Rose, she just called her parents."
Mark looked so dejected one might almost have heard his heart crash into the floor.
"She hasn't said anything about you two," Amy said. Mark looked relieved. Then he looked sad again as he said, "But...?"
"She's going home."