"DAMMIT!" Mark hurled a priceless china vase accross the room. It soared over Amy's head, crashing head-on into the window and flying through it with an almighty crash. "I scared her way, I scared her away!" He said, pacing the room in a panic. "Why the hell did I have to open my goddam mouth? Why couldn't I have just shut up?"
Amy did her best to calm him down, talking to him calmly and apologising.
"There's nothing for you to be sorry for, Amy," Mark said. "You're not the problem. I am. I'm the one who's caused all this crap."
"Maybe we should go to the airport, try to stop her from running?" Amy suggested, although for some reason it felt like a bad thing to do.
Mark stopped pacing and looked at her. "Good idea."
"So this is goodbye, then."
Mark stared into Rose's eyes as those final, fatal words ripped through his mind and made him wonder if there really was any reason for him to smile. But he watched helplessly as his body smiled anyway. He heard his own voice speak, but he didn't want it to say what it was going to say. That was giving up...
"I guess it is."
"I'm going to miss you, Mark," Rose said, eyes welling up. Had Mark been his usual self he would have made some comical vomiting gesture.
"You too..." he paused. "Squirt."
Rose gave a gentle laugh.
"You...you don't have to..."
"Will you keep in touch?" Rose interrupted, pain drenching her face. Mark gave up on that note. She had shot him down.
"Definitely," he said wholeheartedly.
Rose looked like she wanted to say something else, but at that exact moment, her flight number was called. Before she could turn to go, Mark caught her arms and held her in a tight hug. It was hard to fight back urges and tears.
At length, he released her. Rose said her goodbyes to Glen and Amy and turned to go board her plane.
As the aircraft roared into the sky, Rose sat in her seat, silently crying. She hoped there was some way...some way they could be reunited.
FIVE YEARS LATER
Mark never forgot the vow he had made to Rose. Everywhere he went his belongings were not only including his photoalbum, but all the letters he had recieved from her. But after four years, they had started talking less and less. Mark had still sent letters but with no reply. And Rose's parents were worried about Rose spending long nights out and days locked up in her room.
She was now 24 years old. Her hair reached the base of her spine. And her figure was one of a confident, beautiful young woman. Her face was soft and supple, her eyes still shone, but they had not seen happiness for a long time. She never told her parents what happened at night, or why she spent so much time alone.
She had been watching him every week. She had felt lonely and sad and wondered where he was every second of the day. Little did she know that he felt exactly the same.
Neither of them could take the pain forever. Something had to happen.
That night, Mark had a match. He was in the Main Event at Wrestlemania 22. Hell in a Cell versus Randy Orton.
Near the end of the battle, Mark's mind was not on his career at all. He was on top of the cage with Orton, who was showboating himself and planning to powerbomb him through the cage. Idly Mark wondered if Orton could even lift so much weight in a gym, let alone in a person. But he didn't really care. He didn't care about the fans anymore, either.
As he was thinking this, the Arena lights cut to nothingness. Orton instantly released Mark. As Mark stood up to stare at the entranceway, he was mystified. There were no dramatics in this match. Not until the climax.
A black figure ran down the ramp carrying a steel chair. They climbed the cage. As Orton was preparing to attack from behind, the stranger ran toward him and caught him full force in the face with the chair. Randy collapsed to the cage roof like a broken doll.
Mark blinked and the figure was already retreating up the ramp. His mind was a dizzy turmoil. Who the hell had that been? He stared at the silhouette, who was at the top of the ramp, watching him. Staring at him as he did to them. Waiting.
Mark suddenly realised the deafening noise from the crowd had reached a crescendo. He didn't need to think - automatically his body acted. He reached down and wrapped a hand around Orton's throat like a vice. One-handed he hoisted him to his feet, before lifting him 10 feet into the air and Chokeslamming him through the steel-chain-link roof of the cage.
Orton crashed through the cage with astonishing force, force enough to make Mark stumble backwards a step with the sheer power of the throw. He thundered into the Ring canvas, breaking a crater into it that hid him almost completely from sight.
Mark climbed, exhausted, down the cage side and ripped open the door, before climbing into the ring. As he covered Orton, his eyes were fixed on the shadowy figure of the stranger at the top of the ramp.
Through the exhaustion-induced heat haze, he saw them peel off a mask. But he couldn't make out the blurry face. All he knew was that it was female.
But that was impossible.
Mark jumped up with suddenly-renewed strength and fought his way out of the cell to give chase as the stranger left. He followed her footsteps and what glimpses of her he could catch, until he came to the parking lot. She was sitting astride a motorcycle, helmet on her face. He saw her just long enough for a tyre screech to rip through his ears and a choking cloud of dust to mask her departure.
The next night, Mark arrived at the arena for the taping of Raw. He was still wondering who the female had been who had come to his aid the night before. As he walked into his locker room, he saw a note on the mantlepiece. It was addressed to him. He picked up the note, sat down on the sofa and opened it up. It read:
"Mark,
I know you didn't recognise me last night, I have grown a lot since you last saw me. I have missed you a lot since I last saw you. I hope you remember who I am, considering you havent seen me for over 5 years. Talk to you soon."
Mark sat there in shock. He couldn't believe it. He hoped it was who he thought it was. He put the note on the mantle again in a daze. The daze lasted so long that he only came to his senses halfway through a speech to the fans about his perfect 14-nil Wrestlemania record.
As usual, the fans were hanging on his every word. His ego soared, having a field day. He knew he went out there to this every week but it was still hard to keep up his persona and his cool with this much adulation to soak up and enjoy. He was halfway to the end of his segment, now. And he knew he would be interrupted soon. Some upstart always interrupted him.
"Which brings me to the end of my match at Wrestlemania 22," he boomed. " I know someone back there thought I needed help to get my ass out of that spot," he went on. The crowd roared in sympathy. " I didn't even need any help. Orton would have gotten what was coming to him!" Another roar. But this time not because of what he was saying.
He froze and stared at the ramp as the arena lights cut. He felt for a second like he was staring at himself as a mysterious person, astride a motorcycle, appeared at the top of it. There was a distinctive roar as the unknown - yet unmistakeably familiar - person powered down the entrance ramp towards him. Mark said nothing as the slender, leather-clad form of the rider dismounted and bent under the middle rope to enter the ring.
Not taking off her helmet, she merely stood, facing him. Her face was totally hidden by her tinted mask.
"So," Mark growled. "You're the one who had to stick your pretty little nose in where it didn't belong." The stranger's only reaction was to relax on her heels, giving the impression that she was totally in control of the situation.
"So are you gonna tell me who you are under that mask?" he said, pointing at the helmet and speaking with fierce authority.
The woman popp ed her hips as she reached up to take hold of the helmet. Slowly, she lifted it off.
The crowd fell into silence. They had no idea who this person was. Mark, on the other hand, needed an act of supreme willpower to stop his jaw from dropping. It was a good job the microphone was nowhere near his face as he stared at her.
"Rose?!" he exclaimed, voice hoarse from shock.