Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Are you gone and onto someone new?

~~x~~

Hunter watched the screen intently, barely even blinking as he took in every detail of what it was showing him. The match was going well, the crowd lapping up every move and showing their loud appreciation. Two men swung each other around the ring in the bizarre ritual that only professional wrestlers and their fans could appreciate. The difference between their styles was almost engulfing but it was seemingly entertaining enough.

It had taken some convincing from Hunter for creative and Vince to buy that there was going to be enough heat to carry a televised two heel match but they trusted his judgement and luckily he was not wrong. He smirked as he watched the crowd leap from their seats as the pump kick connected with Jericho's face and he dropped to the floor as if he'd just been shot. It had connected beautifully and Sheamus stood above the motionless body with his arms aloft before beating the hell and the yell out of his chest.

The gorilla was pretty quiet as the match he'd just watched had been the last of the night. As Sheamus appeared through the curtain Hunter strode forward and grabbed the younger man in a strong hug, whispering his thanks as he spent a moment in the warm reassuring embrace. Ever since the young Irishman had come onto the scene Hunter had felt protective of him, giving him guidance and assistance where he could. He knew the kid had a great work ethic, great potential and most of all, a sense of loyalty that both he and Shawn had picked up on straight away. He was willing to risk the locker room heat for the good of his career and that was something both the older men empathised with having endured years of it themselves.

It hadn't been easy to call in the favour, in fact it hadn't been an easy decision for Hunter to make to go down that road at all but he had to send a warning shot across the bows to Paul. There hadn't seemed to be a better way of doing it and Hunter had capitalised on the fact that Paul hadn't yet confronted Chris about the evidence of his misdemeanours. Hunter understood entirely; the love of the man who appeared to be betraying him was stopping him from bringing the situation to a head. Paul's reluctance was proof that they were living perverse carbon copies of the other's life.

Sheamus eventually made his way to the locker room leaving Hunter stood alone in the shadows. He heard the rattle of the stretcher coming up the ramp and ducked behind one of the loose curtains, waiting until the EMT's came into sight to see what effect the full power kick had had. From where he hid the stretcher was in clear sight and he saw Chris sliding himself off it, rubbing at the lower part of his jaw which bore a bright red mark and the faint pattern of the sole of Sheamus' wrestling boots.

The gathered medics ushered Chris towards the treatment room to be examined and suddenly silence descended where Hunter stood. For a moment he closed his eyes and was back in the moment where Shawn was on a stretcher just like that one. The image reminded him of what he was there for and only served to strengthen his resolve to do what he'd come to do.

~~x~~

Chris had cut a less than dashing figure as he came through the dressing room door, his dishevelled and distressed look a million miles away from the smart slick image presented in the incriminating pictures. Hunter stood silently behind the ajar door of the built in wardrobe and waited for his opportunity. His target's back was turned and Hunter lunged forward in one fluid motion, planting one hand over Chris' mouth and the other wrenching a heavily strapped wrist up the smaller man's back.

"So, Chris. How's things? Good match tonight?"

Hunter ensured that his tone was smooth and metered, knowing that in conjunction with the earlier attack that Chris' heckles would already be well up and he was determined to make his mere presence alone as effective as possible. He felt little other than disgust at having the man anywhere near him but accepted the contact as a necessary evil. There was a time for action and that time was upon him.

Chris struggled hard but the effects of the full tilt kick to the face seemed to have left him more than a little fuzzy headed and he soon stopped writhing. Hunter had always known he had the beating of Chris whenever and wherever and with a well placed knee to the bottom of the back he lowered the limpened body to the floor. Kneeling beside it he lowered his head to whisper his carefully chosen words into Chris' ear.

"Nobody's around Chris, nobody's gonna hear what you have to say so maybe take it easy on yourself. Don't scream, don't bother to shout. I'll warn you, I'm right on the edge of the patience I have with you right now. You'd be wise not to test how close I am to beating the living fuck out of you and leaving you here in a worse state than Shawn is. Do you understand me Chris?"

A slow and deliberate nod answered his gruff threat and Hunter slowly moved his hand away from Chris' mouth. He scraped his straggly hair back out of his face and planted the free hand between Chris' shoulderblades ensuring he wasn't going to be able to go far.

"Hunter, what the fuck is this about? First your new boyfriend kicks me in the face and nearly takes my head off and now you're jumping me in my own dressing room. If you wanted me that badly, you only had to ask!"

The snarky tone of Chris' voice was doing nothing to calm Hunter down and instead became the equivalent of pouring petrol on the flames. Hunter hadn't expected him to be either honest or remorseful but seeing as Chris had already linked in his mind the legit kick and the way he'd been overpowered there had at least been hope for a still-absent scrap of humility.

"You know why I'm here Chris. Its time for you to explain yourself little man, time to explain why you made a move on Shawn. A move, as it happens, that's left him busted up in hospital half dead for the past few weeks. And a move that is about to turn into the biggest fucking mistake of your life."

After a long period of near silence when only Hunter's breathing, charged heavily with raw aggression and hate, filled the air did Chris dare to speak again.

"Hunter, you feeling a little jealous, maybe a little threatened? Did you just come here to see what Shawn wanted, to see what a real man looks like? To see what someone who can satisfy your crowned prince better than you can looks like? Someone who makes him play away from home on his long-term, boring, inadequate and pathetic lover?"

The pointed sneer that came at the end of the tirade flicked a switch in Hunter that hadn't been touched since that night when Shawn got hurt. The mist slowly descended over his brain and almost appeared before his eyes, paling everything into insignificance apart from his thoughts of Shawn and his desire to make Chris pay, to make their alleged affair stop, to take him out of the picture altogether.

Dragging Chris to his feet Hunter slammed him into the nearest wall, forcing the breath from the smaller man's lungs making him cough and splutter and a pink tinge appear on his cheeks.

"Chris, get real. The entire roster knows you couldn't satisfy three of the fingers on your left hand. What makes you think Shawn could be interested in someone like you, huh? You're the pathetic one, making shit up to make people think you're the man, that you could even dream about having someone like Shawn in your bed."

The words were spat harshly, every single word pointed and intentional. Bitterness dripped off the statement and Hunter hoped that the minuscule part of him that feared that it was indeed the truth that Shawn had turned to Chris was not making its presence felt in his words. The last thing he wanted was to give any sign at all that he'd considered even for a moment that any of it could be true. He raised his hand and pulled it back, ready to land the first of an intended string of blows. It was only when the sight of the face before him, turned to the side and wincing, came into focus that he had a split-second's thought. If this was the man that Shawn wanted, if this was his choice, if it was all true, could he really do it?

He grabbed Chris by the shoulders and threw him to the ground, turning away and putting his hands on his hips, not caring about the loud bang behind him in the room as Chris was struggling back to his feet. For a moment he wished he hadn't started this, and certainly that he'd had the courage to finish it already. Hunter felt as if he owed that much to 'his Shawn' but was tormented by the notion of Shawn hating him for injuring Chris if everything being said was true, if all the evidence pointed to the truth rather than some kind of illusion or lie.

A rustling noise caught his attention and he turned around sharply with his fist drawn back only to see Chris foraging in the depths of his holdall, clearly looking for something. His face was concentrated as he searched and Hunter watched carefully, half expecting Chris to pull some kind of stunt or produce some weapon to get himself out of the room physically unscathed at least.

Hunter heard the room fall quiet again and saw Chris' arm outstretched towards him, brandishing a long thin box in his hand, the same sick smirk as before on his face. He snatched the proffered item and opened it, not knowing what to expect. Inside was a gold identity bracelet, laid out in the fastenings of the box and glistening under the fluorescent strip lights that flickered above his head. The bracelet was upside down and it curved away from the bottom of the box, the inscription on it clear to see and painfully easy to read.

'With all my love, Shawn.'

"See, that's how much he loves me Hunter. When did he last buy you pretty trinkets? When did he last tell you that you had all his love, bought you something to wear that told everyone just how much you meant to him? Yeah, I thought so."

"Where did you get this? When?"

The anger rose again in Hunter's voice and he snarled the last word. His head was spinning. Photos were one thing. They could mislead, be creatively interpreted but gifts were a different matter. His last shred of hope was that this was some kind of elaborate ruse, something Chris had made for himself to try and firm up his story. The niggle at the back of Hunter's mind told him that it wasn't likely that Chris would go to all this trouble to mock it up as a gift from Shawn and then not wear it. He noted that the box was worn at the corners and assumed that it was from its long-term storage in his bag. If it meant nothing, if it was all a trick why did Chris seem to carry it with him? Shaking his head he stared hard at Chris, trying to get some kind of read on what the truth of the situation was.

"It's nothing to do with you Hunter how I got that, or when, or any of the other details. The only thing you need to concern yourself with is that you and Shawn, whether you like it or not, are over. He loves me now, just be a man for once and deal with it."

Hunter saw the smug and self-satisfied look on Chris' face and wished that he could be anyone else and anywhere else in the world. Everything he loved and believed in seemed to hinge on the degree of truth in spiteful words that fell from the narrow smirking lips. With two strides across the room he grabbed Chris by the throat and unleashed the punch that had already been recoiled twice. The blow sent the smaller man crashing to the floor, bleeding from the nose and apparently knocked out cold. His body slumped awkwardly against the bench on which his bag rested and Hunter poked at the unconscious form with the toe of his shoe to make sure that he had achieved what he came to do.

Ripping the sides of the bag as far apart as they would go he set about checking what else Chris had got stashed in there. Apart from the stock standard clothes, towel and toiletries there didn't seem to be a lot else. That was until he unzipped the front pocket. In there was a wallet and a diary, both of which he removed to inspect more closely. Opening the wallet he looked firstly for a picture of Shawn, almost expecting the perverse thrill of seeing his lover's face staring back at him, or more appropriately, at Chris. There was nothing but a handful of notes, some cards and odd receipts for recent shopping. Tossing it back into the pocket he moved his attention to the black leather bound diary which bulged with papers that he hoped would reveal some further clues.

Opening the cover he flicked idly through some of the pages, most of which contained at first glance anyway, innocuous information – appearances, appointments, flight times, birthdays; the sorts of things to be expected in any pro's personal paperwork. It was only when he started to flick through the loose sheets that he saw the more interesting items. Receipts for hotel rooms, fancy restaurants, flowers; all kinds of luxury items. On opening one of the documents up some loose bits and pieces slid to the ground and Hunter stooped to pick them up, more out of his continued curiosity as to what they were as opposed to any desire to respect Chris' belongings.

As he stood working through the handful of sheets he flipped a plain piece over, the same size as one of the unanswered event invites he'd discarded as irrelevant already. A familiar feeling washed over him as he gazed down at it. A black and white photograph, just like the others. Only this one showed Shawn cupping Chris face gently, their foreheads pressed together in a tender gesture that he and Shawn had shared so many times before. The pain seared up the centre of his chest and choked the breath out of his lungs. He stood staring at the image until he started to feel dizzy through the lack of air. Stumbling back against the wall he studied it carefully. This one had been taken much more closely. It didn't look like a spy shot but it didn't seem to be a studio shot either.

Shoving it back inside the diary he rammed both that and the box into the pocket of his jacket then zipped it shut. Taking one final look at Chris he checked that the rise and fall of the unconscious man's chest was regular and turned on his heel to leave, pausing for a moment as he placed his hand on the door handle. Closing his eyes for just one second he allowed himself to think that none of this were true, that it was all a bad dream. That when he left the arena and got in his car to make the long drive home that Shawn would be waiting for him in their bed at home, propped up watching some trashy crime drama and drinking Tropicana by the gallon. For that moment his system flooded with the sense of relief that he'd craved since the moment he saw Shawn had been hurt.

The problem was that with his next breath it ebbed away and he felt just like every desperate working man who let themselves dream of that lottery win, spending the money before even buying a ticket. In the cold strip lit room false hope was still false hope. The only thing was that for Hunter, its seemed to be all he had left.

~~x~~

A/N: I'm sorry that its taken me so long to update this story. I have kinda lost my way with anything involving Shawn for several weeks and to be honest, if I hadn't got so little of him in this ch. I'm not sure I'd have been able to write it.

It would be helpful if anyone reading and reviewing this ch/story in general could let me know if they want me to finish it as a chaptered fic. I'm kinda conflicted about whether or not to carry on with it given HBK's retirement. If the general consensus is to stop it I'll probably just post up a brief synopsis as to what the end is/was going to be.

So, all thoughts on that appreciated as much as your continued reads and reviews! Thanks all for sticking with me on this one :)