For ratings, disclaimers, etc., see chapter one.

Chapter VI: A Poetic Final Straw

Because of Nidia's penchant for dramatics, Victoria related the story. Shortly before Batista was to film the vignette with Cheryl and Evolution, he had tracked down Edge, checking each of the lockerrooms until he abruptly turned around to find the wanted man staring him down.

"I hear you're looking for me. You want something?" the blonde asked with a sharpness to his voice.

"Yeah. How could you let that happen to Cheryl?"

"The car wreck? Man, that was an accident."

"You were driving, you're responsible," Batista said, backing the other man towards the wall.

"Wait, you—"

"If the weather was that bad, you could've waited to leave!" Dave yelled in his face.

"Listen—" Edge started again, holding out his hands to indicate for Batista to back off.

"No, you listen, if you hurt her again, I will hunt you down…" he trailed off, just then realizing what he was about to say.

"Is that a threat?" the blonde barked, leaning towards the other with his nostrils flaring.

"That's a promise," Batista growled, pointing his finger into Edge's bare chest and stalking off.

"He did what!" Cheryl squeaked in response to the tale. The three other women nonchalantly glanced around the dim room, avoiding Cheryl's gaze. "Why would he do that? He's been avoiding me like the plague!" Not to mention that she considered the man to be quiet, much like her, and fairly non-confrontational.

"I think someone's jealous," Nidia teased.

"Wait a minute," Cheryl matter-of-factly stated. "Aren't you the one who wanted me to go out with Edge?"

"Isn't it cool that two guys are fighting over you? If only we were all so lucky…" the brunette sighed dreamily.

"Lucky? It's not l—" The knock at the door stopped the redhead in mid-sentence.

"I'll get it," Lita, the most sensible one in the room at the moment, stated. She rose from her seat and peeked through the peephole, showing no sign of recognition of who was on the other side. Her face was straight, bearing no emotion, when she swung the door open.

Dave Batista stood on the other side, looking quite shy. "Is Cheryl here?" he whispered. Lita nodded. "Has she heard what I did?" Seeing the bob of her head, Dave dropped his own. "Is she mad? Can I talk to her?"

The woman in question had stayed glued to her seat, straining to hear the conversation when she heard the man's voice. "Cheryl, you've got a caller."

There was whispering behind her as she slowly rose, her sore muscles protesting, and met Dave's eyes while the other girls filed out into the adjoining room. "Hi," she said and then stared at the carpet.

"Can I come in? That way you don't have to wear your glasses."

"Yeah," she replied, blinking from the hallway as she looked back up at him. He slipped past her and she closed the door behind him. "So…"

"I'd like to say I'm sorry for threatening Edge but I can't," Dave began right away.

"Excuse me?" she sharply asked.

"I…god, there's something I have to tell you," he nervously said, running his hand through his black curls. Cheryl's legs grew weak from concern over where this was going. She reached backward until she felt the chair and eased down into it, her gaze never leaving his face. "I thought…this isn't easy," he started and sat down on the bed. "I thought you were married." He reached for her left hand and held it up. "I didn't ask but I guess I was just an ass and assumed you were taken. I felt bad for flirting with a married woman and I thought I could get you out of my mind if I didn't see you that often." His fingers ran through the dark locks again and he sighed. "But it didn't work. When I found out you were dating Edge, I didn't know how to deal with it. It was even worse when I found out he was driving when you were in that accident. I was so mad at him for letting you get hurt because…because I really…like you."

Cheryl was astounded. She could only stare and had to force her mouth to stay closed. He waited for her to speak but she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She could barely think while he gazed at her expectantly. Working her tongue around, she finally managed to speak. "I-I don't know what to say." The redhead rose with a small moan from the pain and Dave's eyes followed, too expectant for her answer to ask how she was feeling. Cheryl turned away from him as the anger finally registered. Batista had no business "attacking" Edge over her. It was a complete accident. Between her father and brother verbally expressing quite the anger over the incident and Batista physically expressing his on Edge, she had been pushed over the limit. She could take care of herself and it hardly mattered that Edge was involved. It was her fault they were out in the first place. She promised one more date to the girls and didn't want to put it off. "I don't need you standing up for me," she calmly said and then turned to face him. "I'm a grown woman. I think you threatening Edge was out of line. It was an accident, pure and simple, okay? I think maybe you should go."

"Cheryl, please—" he started, standing and holding out his hand.

"No, please, go," she interrupted and turned back away, her emotions torn between anger and wanting to accept his confession of liking her. "I have to have time to deal with this and—and…"

Batista nodded. "Maybe I am sorry now," he whispered and quietly left.

Cheryl answered the light tapping on the adjoining door. "Can we come in now?" Nidia asked, peeking around the door,and the redhead nodded in response. "What happened?"

"I-I don't want to…to talk about it," she stuttered in reply.

The trio nodded in response and Lita brightened with a smile, hoping to redeem the evening. "Our food's getting cold. Let's finish eating and I'll pour us some shots. Hmm? We have to toast me getting rid of that fake pregnant stomach."

"Yeah," Cheryl replied with a weak smile and began to work the corner of her lip between her teeth. They continued on in their usual manner for Monday night while the newest of the divas attempted not to withdraw into her thoughts.

With one margarita and two shots of tequila in her, Cheryl was grateful when Lita and Victoria drifted off to their respective rooms and Nidia turned in for the night. She too was ready to lie down and rest. All of her body ached from the impact of the car wreck and she had refused to take painkillers during the day so they wouldn't interfere with her work. When her thoughts threatened to overwhelm her, she considered the numbing pills but then forced herself to work through her problems—Edge and Batista.

Nothing had changed since their first date. The blonde never pushed her farther than a goodnight kiss, which was more brotherly than anything. She truly enjoyed his company. He had a sensitive streak a mile wide but the chemistry was at absolute zero. Maybe he felt it too since he had yet to make a move but she couldn't understand why he continued to ask her out. Yet, the nurse who had taken her to the hospital advised her not to pass up someone like Edge. He really was such a great guy. Maybe if I hang on to the relationship a little bit longer, she thought but realized that now she had this new revelation to deal with.

Batista had been flirting with her all that time—something that she was suspicious of but welcomed. Then he backed off so quickly that she was positive he wasn't interested in her. But she was interested in him. Each time she had vehemently denied anything was a way of helping her deal with the fact that Dave had stopped joking with her and rarely talked to her. She hadn't wanted to admit it but now she was forced to. She had feelings for him and they went beyond "nice." Her stomach fluttered thinking about his confession. Of the few guys she had dated since joining the land of the living about a year ago, Dave was the only one close to sending chills across her body when she thought of him. She had forced herself to "keep living" by dating but now she had the chance of starting new with someone she knew she could fall deeply for.

If there's any chance left… Cheryl thought, recalling her somewhat harsh words to him. She had let her pride get the best of her. As a woman fighting for her way in a man's world, she was highly sensitive to such issues. Yet, he had done it for her. He was so upset about her getting hurt that he had threatened and almost attacked Edge over it. Then she remembered the other equation in the relationship—Edge. What do I do about him? Do I tell him that there's nothing between us? Will he blame Dave? she thought, squeezing her eyes tight. She decided on an apology to Dave first and then find a way to tell Edge her feelings.

For one who spent four days thinking about what she would say, Cheryl was still unprepared at the house show when she and Batista crossed paths. He nodded at her and passed on by but she finally found her voice and called out after him.She was still required to wear the sunglasses but she quickly pulled them off to look him in the eyes. "Dave, I am so sorry about the way I treated you last Monday. My father and Craig—he's my brother—they said the same things and it just—"

"It's okay," he interrupted, taking the glasses from her and slipping them back over her ears. "You need these for two more days."

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. "So, are we okay?"

"Yeah…yeah, I think so. As long as you gave your family the same treatment," he said firmly but then grinned.

"As best as I could over the phone."

"So, if we're okay, that means we have to go back to our usual," he said, rubbing his chin in mock thought.

"What, a joke a day?"

"Actually, inviting you out for drinks." He had scared her enough by attacking her boyfriend and then declaring his feelings. The blonde was still a factor and he wasn't going to ask her to cheat with him. So, he thought starting small and edging in would be the smarter strategy. "Come hang out with us tonight."

"I don't know," she replied. The long flight had taken a lot out of her and she still had to break it to Edge that she no longer wanted to see him on a romantic basis, if that was what it could be called. "We'll see," she quietly replied, glancing down, and then making her excuses to leave.

Later that evening the hotel room was so eerily quiet that, when the air kicked on with a whooshing noise that sounded like an old man calling for 'Steve,' Cheryl almost darted back to the door, thinking a person was in the room. Settling her nerves, she dropped her things on the bed and plopped down to enjoy the silence and solitude. She had yet to find time beyond the casual 'hi, how are you doing since we were in a carwreck together?' to talk to Edge. They talked once on the phone in the past week, which was basically a quick conversation to see what their schedule was like for the weekend, which both said was quite full. Neither one spoke to the other at the house show, although both were present. Cheryl had blamed it on not having time but, in the recesses of her mind where she refused to admit it, she knew she was avoiding Edge like the plague because of Dave's 'attack' on him and the subsequent confession, along with dreading breaking her feelings to him.

Slipping out of her shoes, the redhead noticed the book of poetry on Lita's bed, picked it up, and flipped it open to the first page. Nidia's name was signed inside in a flowery kind of cursive. A few of the pages were dog-eared and Cheryl couldn't resist reading what Nidia—or Lita—had marked. The first two were Shakespearean sonnets. The next was one by Anne Bradstreet. Cheryl's eyes widened when she noticed the print on the opposite page. She reached for her glasses to prove that her mind wasn't playing tricks. No, it was still there and she dropped the glasses on the nightstand, rubbing her eyes to stop the sting of the memory.

Cheryl pondered how the autumn day had been gorgeous to the point of perfection and wondered if it could get any better as she and Pierce strolled up to her beach house. She had clung to him, soaking up the warmth of his body against the chill of the breeze coming off the water, during their return walk from visiting friends several houses down. When she started up the boardwalk, Pierce tugged her in the direction of the dunes that separated the beach from the residences. She eyed him funny but he put a finger to her lips and continued to a tiny valley between the dunes where he had laid out a blanket with candles nestled in the sand around it and bottle of wine with fluted glasses settled on one corner.

Shielded from the perpetual wind by the low hills, they sat together in silence and enjoyed the sound of the sea, the tang of the wine, and the brilliant stars. Finally, he took the wine glass from her and rose up on his knees, taking her hands in his and prompting her to mirror his posture.

"How shall I hold my soul, that it may not be touching yours?" Pierce began in a low, husky voice. "How shall I lift it then above you to where other things are waiting?" Cheryl smiled at the words that she vaguely remembered from an English class. He had never recited anything to her before and she was entranced by his voice. "Gladly would I lodge it, all-forgot, with some lost thing the dark is isolating on some remote and silent spot that, when your depths vibrate, is not itself vibrating." Pierce stopped for a moment as if pondering the lines and then licked his lips as she prodded him to continue with a squeeze of his hands. Never had she ever seen him this nervous.

"You and me—all that lights upon us, though, brings us together like a fiddle-bow drawing one voice from two strings it glides along. Across what instruments have we been spanned and what violinist holds us in his hand? O sweetest song." (1) He quietly trailed off as he finished the last phrase. Cheryl found she was holding her breath as she had listened to him, enchanted by the moment. "One voice from two strings," he repeated and slipped his hand into his pocket. "Cheryl," he said, holding out a diamond ring. "Will you marry me and make that voice one?"

Her eyes dropped to the diamond solitaire and back up to his waiting face. He swallowed hard as his eyes searched hers for an answer. From surprise and overwhelming emotion, she couldn't find her tongue to answer and finally nodded.

"You will?" he asked, taking her left hand and starting to slip the ring on to her finger.

"Yes," she squeaked and he pushed the ring in place before enveloping her in an embrace.

"That's it," Cheryl stated out loud, clapping the book closed and then throwing open her suitcase. She sifted through her clothes until she found her least conservative outfit that was not wrestling attire. Quickly dressing, she ran a pick through her hair and added a touch of perfume to her neck. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she picked up her purse and headed to the elevator.

Cheryl held her head high as she strode through the lobby to the entrance of the hotel's bar and restaurant. Stopping inside, she held up a hand to the hostess to let her know that she wouldn't be needed. When she caught sight of whom she was looking for, she ran a hand over her skirt and slowly walked over to where Dave Batista sat.

His eyes widened at that fact that she showed up, and a little at her appearance, and he immediately stood up to greet her. "You came!" he exclaimed and gazed over her body, not able to hide his appraisal of her long skirt that was slit high on both sides of her thighs and a sapphire blouse of faux sequins that was nothing more than a panel of cloth in the front held in place by a tie in the back. He wasn't the only one looking as she took stock of his well-rounded butt in the black pants and his broad chest swathed in a very becoming lilac, a surprise there.

"Yeah. The girls left me alone tonight and I thought I'd take you up on that offer," she lied, knowing the truth was that she couldn't let her memories of Pierce keep controlling her. This was the first step, even though she was terribly frightened of making it since she hadn't begun to care for someone like this since before she met her husband.

"What do you want me to get you to drink?" his silky voice asked and she smiled at him with her answer. "Where's your glasses?"

She glanced around and shrugged her shoulders. "It's dark enough in here. I'll be fine."

"Alright, don't make me hurt you if you're lying to me," he laughed, enjoying her hazel eyes that he had barely seen in two weeks. "I know you've been around for several months but let me introduce you to the guys."

"That'd be great because I don't know everybody's name," she replied, glancing over the group at the large table that included Randy Orton, one of the refs, and two guys from the crew that she did know. Plus, it's a way to hopefully get them to like me, she thought, recognizing one woman's face that had given her a death glare.

With introductions of the staff that she didn't know done, Leila, the death glare woman, asked, "So where's your boyfriend, Edge?"

"He's not exactly my…boyfriend."

"You're dating, aren't you?" she shot back.

"Kinda. We're not exclusive or-or anything," the redhead answered. Which is the truth, she thought, hoping that he didn't think they were exclusive.

"I hope so, because there he is now," Leila pointed out.

TBC…

(1) "Love-Song" by Ranier Maria Rilke

Author's Notes: Did y'all see the "You talkin' to me?" Wrestlemania commercial this past Monday? Batista was absolutely awesome in it! Even if I didn't love him so much, he would still have cracked me up! I thought his part was the best anyhow.