Y'dont need to worry your pretty lil Hardy head if she's ready. YOU just better be ready if that lil slap you give her out there leaves one smidge of a bruise, y'hear?

Part of me really did not know what Mark had meant when he said those words to Matt earlier in the evening, but as I walked backstage from the ringside area with Matt silently, following behind me; those words haunted me, and I just knew I had to get to Mark before he got to Matt.

"You fucking asshole."

I heard the words before I saw Mark run out of his dressing room; giving me time to move out of the way, before he practically leaped in the air, crushing Matt to the ground, as he came down.

"I'm going to kill you." Mark practically screamed, as he began beating the living shit out of, supposedly, one of my best friends.

"Mark, stop!" I screamed, rushing towards the two men; trying to pull them apart from one another.

Fortunately for Matt, Jeff had been hanging out, behind the curtains; probably waiting for his match, which was up next and quickly began to participate in helping me get the two angry men on the floor separated from one another.

"You fucking bastard! I swear, boy, if I ever get my hands on you.." Mark began; trying to separate himself from me and the few officials; who had come out of nowhere to help me and Jeff break up the confrontation that was slowly causing a scene, "you better believe there will be a dead Hardy boy around here."

"Well, you better dig yourself a grave-site, deadman 'cause if I go, your comin with me." Matt retorted; angrily trying as well to get away from the referees and his younger brother who were all holding him back.

Please God, make them stop. I thought to myself, as I tightened my hold on Mark's forearm; knowing if they didnt; I wouldn't only lose the grip I had on Mark but I'd also lose a friend, as well.

Neither one of them finding the need to stop, the fight between Matt and Mark continued on until Mr. McMahon, personally, came out of his office, for the night demanding that the officials bring Mark to his office and take Matt to his dressing room; where the eldest Hardy boy would wait for word if he'd be suspended or not over his actions against Amy that evening.

"Now!" Vince said, practically screaming as the two younger men barely moved a muscle; preferring to stand in their same exact positions; staring one another down. "Move!"

"Fine," Matt said, through gritted teeth; angrily snatching his arms away from Jeff, before shooting Mark a look that said this isn't over, and making his way towards his dressing room; his younger sibling following behind him, avoiding the several groups of onlookers that had gathered around, to watch the fight, intently.

"Thank God," I mumbled, not letting go of Mark's arms until Matt, fully, stepped into his dressing room; closing the door behind him.

"You goin' to be okay?" Vince asked, adverting his eyes from Mark, who still hadn't moved yet, towards me; giving me one of his fatherly looks of worry.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." I said, giving him, what I hoped to be, a look of control, "Thanks."
Vince nodded his head, silently saying your welcome, before turning around, and making his way back towards his office; only briefly stopping to give Mark a look that said You have five minutes....

And leaving me with the previous thought that things unfortuantly would never be the same again.