Sixteen

Celeste was waiting impatiently for Mark to return. He hadn't called, and he missed his flight. She knew why. He was probably still at the hospital. She was scared to death, and she was disgusted with Brock and Paul. Using Matt Hardy, they had lured Mark to the back of the arena, where Brock had jumped Mark like a coward. Taking a propane tank to his hand, Brock had shattered Mark's hand and left him screaming in pain backstage. She watched it unfold on the television in horror. She wished she had been there to warn him, to shout at Brock to leave Mark alone, but he wouldn't have listened. She was frustrated; they were trying to keep Mark from getting his hands on the title, and they were trying to break Mark until he brought them to her.

It was getting close to midnight, and she was getting worried. Just how badly was he hurt? She didn't think Brock would be so insane as to attack one of WWE's top guys and injure him right before their big rematch. Zeus was curled up on the couch, his head rested on her lap. He had taken a shine to her; she assumed it was because she was the only one in the house. She wondered how late he was going to get in. She could only imagine how angry he was. She cringed when she had heard the propane tank connect with Mark's hand.

At four o'clock, the door opened. Zeus' head perked up. Celeste had dozed off on the couch, her chest moving softly with each calm breath. Zeus got off the couch and made his way towards the door. Mark placed his bag down on the floor in the foyer and locked the door behind him. He was high out of his mind on pain medication, but he could still feel the throbbing pain in his hand. Brock had shattered several bones in his hand. Next week, I'm going to fuck Matt Hardy right up, Mark thought in irritation and rage. Then, I'm going to bust up Brock and his little 'agent'. He pet Zeus with his good hand.

"You been keeping Celeste company?" he asked softly. Zeus emitted whimpers of excitement at seeing his owner back home. He wondered if Celeste was still awake. He could hear the TV in the living room. He sighed. I told her not to wait up...

He made his way into the living room and found her asleep on the couch. He smirked. She looked beautiful, curled up in white slippers and a white robe, her head resting on her hand as she dozed. He leaned in front of her and shook her awake with his good hand. "Celeste...Celeste, darlin', wake up." Her eyes slowly came open. She sat up quickly.

"Mark...oh, my God...your hand..." She took the cast into her hand. He flinched. She offered him a sheepish apology. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Mark. This is all my fault."

"Hey. Don't start blaming yourself for Brock. He's a grown man," he said, moving the cast out of her hand. "Besides, he probably would have done something like this if you were around anyway." She nodded; she knew he was right, as much as she hated to admit it. Mark knew she still blamed herself over what happened. He wouldn't be able to convince her that she shouldn't hold herself responsible. He studied her face. The bruising was almost all gone. "Come on. Let's get you to bed. Lord knows I need some sleep myself. It's been a long night, and these painkillers have me pretty tired." She nodded. He stood and moved out of the way so she could get off the couch. He draped an arm around her shoulder and together, with Zeus in tow, they disappeared upstairs.

The morning sunlight made its way through the curtains. Celeste's eyes opened when the sunlight reached her face. It was going to be a beautiful October day. Sitting up, she stretched before leaning over to pet Zeus, who was sleeping at the foot of the bed. He had opted to spend the night with her instead of Mark, like he had been doing in the past few weeks. She pulled back the blankets and got out of bed. She was still exhausted, despite all the sleep she'd gotten. The clock read nine-thirty. Digging in her bag, she grabbed a white T-shirt and black sweatpants. Tying her hair back into a low ponytail, she quickly got changed and made her way out of the bedroom. She decided to go check on Mark, to see how his hand was feeling.

She walked into his bedroom with Zeus hot on her heels. He nudged the door open with his head and bolted inside, running and jumping on the bed.

"What the fuck?" Mark roared, agitated. He sat up. "Zeus!"

"Not much of a morning person, are we?" she asked. He shot her a look as she walked into the room, disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. She returned with a small cup of water and two painkillers. She handed them to Mark. He took them and leaned back against the pillow, taking a deep breath of frustration. His hand was still screaming in pain, and he knew it would be for a while.

His cell phone rang. He picked it up. "Yeah?" Celeste watched him with an eyebrow cocked. "Hey, Stephanie...Yeah, it's broken. Of course it's broken...I'm in a world of pain, Stephanie, how the hell do you think I'm doing?" He sighed. Stephanie was talking; Celeste could hear her voice on the other end of the phone. "You're fucking right I'm still good for No Mercy. Don't you worry about a damn thing. It'll take more than a propane tank for me to back out." He stopped and listened to Stephanie speak. Slowly, his trademark demonic smile crossed his face. "Yeah, Ms. McMahon, I totally agree with you. I think that sounds very fair. You tell those sons of bitches that I'll be seeing Brock's narrow ass inside Hell in a Cell." He hung up the phone and smirked.

His eyes fell on Celeste and he smiled. He was suddenly in a good mood. Since its inception, Hell in a Cell was considered Mark's match. The term they coined for it backstage was "The Devil's Playground". He loved it. He couldn't wait to get his hands on Brock, with Paul Heyman forced to watch as he laid waste to Paul's investment. "So, what did you want to do today?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "I haven't really thought about that. We should probably take it easy, though...your hand..."

"Oh, it'll be fine. You worry about me too much," he told her dismissively. She blushed. He was happy to see her acting normal, not like some scared and traumatized prisoner. He could still sense discomfort radiating from her in waves. He pulled back the blankets.

"Do I get to sign your cast?"

He looked at her incredulously. Was she kidding? She looked serious. "Um...if you want to," he told her. "But I'm going to take a shower."

"I'll go start breakfast," she told him, getting off the bed.

"Celeste, you don't have to..."

"I know. I want to," she told him. "You just watch that cast in the shower. Keep it covered. I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast."

"Sounds good."

"What do you mean you don't know where she's at?"

Brock had caught up with Celeste's sister Elise on her morning jog. Elise stopped and turned to Brock, glaring at him with hazel eyes that reminded him so much of Celeste.

"I mean I don't know where she is, Brock," Elise told him, exasperated. "Yeah, Celeste and I are close, but she hasn't called me in weeks. She only called Mom, and she didn't tell Mom anything other than she's safe."

"Where do you think she is?"

"I don't know, Brock! I don't know what her life on the road with you is like. She hasn't said anything about that side of her life. But let me ask you this, Brock: what did you do to her to make her run off without saying anything to you?"

Brock's eyes blazed. He took a menacing step towards her, but Elise stood firm. "You would really like to see things end between Celeste and I, wouldn't you?"

"You're a snake, Brock. You always have been. Evidently, my sister's finally seen it."

"You..."

"You what? You aren't going to say or do a damn thing to me, Brock. I'm not Celeste; I won't put up with it for a second. Do you want help finding her? You won't get it from me. Look for her yourself. Because even if I did know, I have no intention of telling you." She turned to go back to her run, but Brock grabbed her roughly, dragging her back to him.

"Where is she, Elise? I'm not going to ask you again," he snarled. He could see fear flickering in her eyes, but Elise Marlowe-Stevens had a spine of steel.

"I'm going to say very slowly so you can understand me, Brock: I. Don't. Know."

"I don't believe you."

"Then go check my phone records and fuck off." She shook out of his grasp and continued her jog. He watched her disappear from his vision, seething. How in the hell was he going to find Celeste when nobody would tell him where she was?