Angel Dust

A/N: Just a quick note today - the news story that I reference in this chapter is an actual story that I read this week here in Michigan. It's been on my mind a lot, so I decided to incorporate it - I just thought I should disclaim that not even the Queen could come up with something so completely unthinkable! Anywho - thanks to everyone who is still reading this story. I know it's a lot longer than some of my other works, and I appreciate the fact that you've stuck with it all this time. Your reviews mean everything to me - so thank you for taking the time to send them my way! You guys are the best. Enjoy!

"Um, no, that's fine," Courtney sighed into the phone as she leaned back on the couch with a hand on her forehead. "Just collect the poll results from all five barrios and then you can head home to your husband and your beautiful baby for the night," she assured her eager assistant, Ashley Massarro. "Oh, and Ash? Tell Carlito I said "hi," okay?"

As Courtney clicked her phone shut, she looked at the computer screen on her coffee table and let out a huge sigh, nudging it with her foot as she pouted. She had seen first-hand with her father how tough being a senator could be. But trying to be one was even harder. Especially with a rival pundit who was determined to sling every bit of mud he could find on the former Mrs. Batista.

The front door opened before she could actually kick the laptop from the table and she turned to see Randy, two large paper bags in hand, beaming at her. "I've got way too much Chinese for two people, and an entire night to help you," he announced, moving quickly to the couch and dropping a kiss on her forehead before moving around the living room and setting the bags on the table. Loosening his tie, he dropped into his recliner. "So, what can I do, Senator?"

Courtney raised an eyebrow and couldn't help smiling. For a few days after the engagement party, she had been plagued by questions. Of course, she couldn't ask Randy point blank if he had murdered Dave, so she had suffered with them alone. Until days turned into weeks, and she hadn't heard another word about Booker T and his outrageous allegations. With her time increasingly consumed with campaigning and wedding planning, Courtney had been able to push the suspicions to the most remote corner of her mind without much effort.

"So," she said as she slid from the couch onto the floor and dipped a pair of chopsticks into a carton of Moo Shoo, "What brings you home so early?"

Randy also sat on the floor, tearing open a crab rangoon as he smiled at his fiancee. "Lashley and I are heading to Detroit at eight in the morning. I have successfully delegated everything on my desk for the next couple of days."

She nodded as they continued to discuss the story that Randy was chasing. It was Lashley's first production, and Randy had to be there to help him navigate the tricky waters of a virgin project. When she had first read the story, she had known that Randy would want to cover it.

The tale of two women, one dead and the other in a coma, their identies confused by the responding emergency personnel, had immediately drawn the opportunistic Randy in to it's web. There was something for everyone, whether it be emotional or political, and he couldn't wait to be the first to capitalize on the ratings gem. While one family buried their daughter, the other sat by their child's bedside, praying for her quick recovery. Five weeks after the accident, long after a funeral, and weeks of intensive surgery and therapy, the living girl was able to speak, only to reveal that she was not the daughter of the family holding vigil over her bed. She was the one they believed to be dead.

A brief lull in the discussion left Courtney thinking over the entire situation. "Ya know, I still can't wrap my head around it," she shook her head and looked at Randy thoughtfully. "How do you accidentally tell someone that their child is dead?"

Randy shrugged. It was a great story, and one that would do wonders for Lashley's career, and his own. But there was something deeper swimming around his head. "I don't know," he sighed. "I just can't even begin to imagine how the other family must be feeling. All that time, hoping and praying for recovery, never knowing that it's way past too late."

Though they were only a couple of months away from walking down the aisle, Courtney knew she couldn't honestly say that her relationship with Randy was any better than it had ever been. They still talked, still fucked plenty, and still attended events together. But sometimes she forgot that he was still Orton. He was still the man who had stayed up with her at night while they waited out one of Dave's near OD's. He was still the one that made her feel like things would work themselves out, even if the world seemed dark and lonely for the moment.

"I have a confession," she whispered, setting her take-out carton on the table and resting her elbows beside it. How did she tell this man, the one who adored her and wanted to give her a happy life, that she couldn't stop thinking about her dead husband? That planning her second wedding had only served to amplify thoughts of her first?

Randy sat his food down and leaned back against the chair. His blue eyes held Courtney's with deep sincerity. "You spent the day wishing someone would tell you it was all a mistake? That something got mixed up at the Coroner's office and that Dave's still alive?"

Biting her lip, Courtney lowered her eyes. She felt guilty enough for not giving herself over to Randy completely. The fact that he knew what she was doing only twisted the knife. "I don't want to feel like this. I want to move forward, into a world with you," she gave him a half-smile of reassurance before taking a deep breath. "But every time I feel like I've started to move in that direction, something completely random reminds me that this is a world without Dave."

He reached across the coffee table and rested his hand on hers. "I thought the same thing today," he admitted, smiling when Courtney shot him a surprised look. "Dave and I had our disagreements. There were things that we would never see eye-to-eye on," he said, his thumb rubbing softly over the palm of her hand. "But he was my best friend. And if I could bring him back. . . "

"I love you."

Randy stopped speaking and looked at her, as if frozen. They had been together for a year, engaged for almost three months, and she had yet to say the words. He had convinced himself that he didn't need to hear them. He told himself that he could convince her that he was right for her in time. He didn't have to be perfect for her; he would settle for good enough.

Courtney Lane had always been known for choosing her words carefully. She was known as the woman who could tell someone to go to hell and make him anticipate the journey. She was tactful and graceful. But she never said anything she didn't mean. So if she was telling Randy that she loved him, he knew better than to doubt it.

Pulling himself up off the floor, Randy flopped onto the couch and reached for Courtney's hand. "Come here," he smiled.

She pushed the coffee table back a few inches and turned, laying her body on top of Randy's on the couch. She did love him. She loved him for never losing faith in her, for never giving up on the woman she could be. She loved him for all of the selfless nights he had foregone torrid affairs with eligible bachelorettes to help her clean vomit off the bathroom floor. She loved him for saving her from her own lonely self a year ago. And she loved him for trying his best to give her the life he believed she deserved.

"Court?" Randy's low rumble interrupted her thoughts. She mumbled something as she rested her head on his chest and let her eyes drift shut. "I don't want to push my boundaries here, but I was thinking about something today. What if we scrap the idea of a big wedding blowout and just fly our parents to Stintino? Get married at the villa?"

Courtney's eyes shot open as she sat up and stared at him in awe. "Are you kidding?"

Feeling slightly nervous and wondering if he had said the wrong thing, Randy leaned against the arm of the couch and shrugged. "I know you've been working really hard on planning this wedding, and I don't want you to feel like I don't appreciate that, or that you've wasted your time. And I know that Dave bought you the house in Italy, and I really don't ever want you to feel like I'm trying to replace him." He took a deep breath and shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought maybe it would make you a little more comfortable or something."

There were tiny tears pricking the back of Courtney's eyes as she watched him bumble through his explanation. For the first time in their relationship, she felt a deep, unbreakable connection to Randy Orton. She felt like he understood her, like he was hearing everything she hadn't had the nerve to say in the last year. "Randy," she giggled, lunging forward and attacking his lips.

His hands ran up and down her back, pulling her closer to him as they continued to explore each other's mouths with their tongues. Breathing was heavy and Courtney was in the process of wrestling with Randy's belt when there was a knock at the door.

Sitting, she shovelled a handful of blonde hair from her face. "You expecting company?"

Randy rolled his eyes and stood from the couch, straightening his dress shirt and smoothing out his pants. "My mom said she might drop some theater tickets off tonight," he shrugged. "I'll get rid of her fast, baby."

With a wink, he walked to the door as Courtney raked her fingers through her hair and watched the muscles in his back as he took a deep breath and tried to collect himself to face his mother. She couldn't help the little flutter in her tummy as she realized something. At one time, Randy had been her closest connection to the man she really wanted to be with. He had been her only link to the real Dave. But he had managed to become the man she really wanted to be with himself.

"Kurt," Randy stepped back in shock as he opened the door to a burdened Kurt Angle and a smug Charlie Haas. "What brings you gentlemen to the city?"

Shaking his head sadly, Kurt produced a pair of handcuffs from his jacket. "Randy Orton, you are under arrest for the murder of Dave Batista. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be held against you in a court of law," Charlie quoted as his partner cuffed the young man.

Courtney watched in horror as Randy calmly accepted the words that were being spewed at him. Her body was numb, and even if she had tried, she wouldn't have been able to read the expression on his face. It was as if her life was suddenly moving in slow motion as her mind went completely blank.

"Courtney, Sweetheart," Randy spoke in an even, authoritative tone. "Call my father. And Shane," he ordered. She nodded as she watched his lips moving, but could barely process what he was saying. "And baby?" When she met his gaze with an empty one of her own, Randy smiled slightly. "Don't worry. It's a misunderstanding, okay?" She nodded. "I love you."

Without a struggle, he asked Kurt to shut the apartment door and then walked down the hall between the two detectives. Pulling her knees to her chest like a scared child hiding in the closet, Courtney buried her face and wished that she could wake up. She blinked her eyes and licked her lips, tasting the tears she hadn't even realized had fallen over her cheeks.

Another husband. Whether or not Randy had killed Dave was up for debate. But one fact was inevitable. She had brought another scandal into the Lane family, and her father was going to kill her.