Part 17 of, "I've Lost My Smile."
Notes: You guys should know the disclaimers by now, and as always, I hope you enjoy this for whatever it is worth!
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Bret's POV:
I glance up for only a second to see Shawn looking down at me with a curious expression on his face.
"What's the matter?" He asks me in a hushed tone. I hesitate before answering.
"Nothing's the matter," I lie, "but I'm just worried. Have you told Vince yet?"
"Not yet," he tells me. "I haven't had time." I know this is only half-true, but there is no forcing him to tell Vince the truth, either. So, why the hell should I confront Shawn now? It's his decision, after all, so I really shouldn't. In fact, something deep inside of my gut doesn't want him to tell Vince about the knee. What if Vince was to find out what really happened? What if Vince tells him to return home to get surgery? Oh man, I really don't know what I would do then.
Still, there is one part of me that knows he needs to tell Vince as soon as possible. God damned it!
"Shawn, you need to tell Vince. He's going to notice you limping in the ring."
"I know," he says, climbing off of me. "I just…I'm just afraid that he won't let me wrestle anymore. I told you what the doctor said, if Vince was to find out, he won't let me work." At that precise moment, the memory of the pain pills suddenly recurs to me, but I'm not quite sure why. "What if I'm forced to retire? If I tell him the news…" I cringe; I don't need him to finish his statement, because I already know what he is going to say. And he's right: if he does tell Vince about the knee injury, then Vince will force him to return to San Antonio on medical leave, which will mean that we may not see each other again for quite some time.
"I know you love your job," I begin reluctantly, "but I think you really do need to let Vince know about this."
"No, Bret, I can't. You don't understand, I love my job…I love being with you. I can't bear the thought of losing all that. I just can't do it!" With that, he breaks in a fit of sobs and I try my best to comfort him. There really isn't anything else I can say at this point, because I know he won't listen. Maybe he really does care about me, doesn't want to leave me. I certainly don't want to see him go. Not now, anyway. I know, I know…I didn't like him a few weeks ago, but now it's different. We've spent this much time together, and I've been thinking a lot about my feelings for him recently. I mean, I know we couldn't stand being around each other for a few seconds just two weeks ago, but now…Now I actually enjoy spending time with him, strangely enough. Come to think of it, maybe those pain pills were more of a blessing than a curse. That is when I finally realize why the memory of them had recurred in my mind just a few minutes ago: if it hadn't been for them, we wouldn't have done what we did. I wouldn't be holding Shawn in my arms right now, enjoying every second I spend with him. How crazy is that? God, I hope his knee injury isn't too serious, because if it is, I won't be able to forgive myself. I shouldn't have let him hurt his knee on the bed post, I really shouldn't have.
But I did, and that's the worst part of all.
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Shawn's POV:
Damn the pain! I can't stand this anymore. I need those pills…I need them now. But when I look down at Bret, I suddenly remember why it is that I can't take them any longer. I can't put him through that again, not now, not ever. I care about him too much to do that to him. Even though I want to scream in agony, I hold my breath and attempt to move my leg a few inches to the left as he continues to stare at me. If only the pain wasn't so intense…
Before I can finish my thought, however, the room phone rings. Oh no…
Reluctantly, I grab the receiver and answer the call. "Hello?"
"Shawn, this is Vince." Oh God, no!
"Hey," I reply quickly. "Uh, what's going on?"
"Are you busy at the moment, Michael?" Oh no. At this point, I realize what's coming, and I really do not want to face it. Vince knows…God damn it, he knows!
"Not really. Why?" What do I mean, 'Why?' Why the hell am I asking that question? I should be hanging up on him, getting back to my conversation with Bret.
"Because I think there is something we need to discuss."
"Like what?" I ask him impatiently.
"I know about your knee injury, Michael." God, I hate it when he calls me by my first name! It's so irritating.
"Vince, who the hell told you that?" I glare at Bret to let him know that Vince has found out about my knee. I then see Bret giving me a quizzical glance, as if to say, 'He shouldn't know that. Nobody should know that except the two of us.' Yea, keep looking at me that way, Bret, but apparently, this bastard knows. The only question is: how?
"That's for me to know and for you to find out," I suddenly hear Vince say over the line. "But I am concerned. I don't want you wrestling with a knee injury." Damn it!
"Vince, you either tell me who told you that I have a knee injury, or I swear…"
"Swear what, Michael?"
"What is going on with you, Vince? Why are you so insistent on calling me by my first name?"
"Because you weren't planning on telling me, were you?" My heart suddenly skips a beat as I hear Vince continue. "I had a dear friend of mine go in there and listen to you tell Bret the news. By the way, what is going on between you and the Hit Man?"
That's when I finally remember it: the face of the man who had followed Bret and me out of the hospital. The face I knew all too well: Hunter's. Damn him!
"You did not. You did not have Hunter follow me to the hospital!" I shout. There. That should get his attention.
"As I said, that is for me to know and for you to find out. But we are going to do something about you wrestling with an injured knee." At that instant, I can't contain myself anymore. I just light into the old man like my life depends on it.
"Vince, you son of a bitch! You know I love my job and I'm not going to give it up. Especially not to Hunter!"
"What does Hunter have to do with this?" He asks me. Oh, nice one, Vince…Very nice.
"Everything." I tell him. "All he wants is the damned championship. That's it. He doesn't care about me, my feelings, NOTHING! And neither do you."
"Shawn, if I didn't care about your feelings, do you think I would have put you and Bret in the same room to begin with?" Oh my God…He did not.
"You didn't."
"Yes, I did. I knew you wanted to keep your belt, so I gave you the chance to do just that. I put you in the same room with Bret so you know…You could talk things through, get along a little bit, and perhaps manipulate Bret into not wanting to take your belt away from you. I told you I'd make it up to you, didn't I?" My jaw nearly drops as I continue to sit there in silence. I cannot believe him. That manipulative bastard! He knew what was going to happen-he knew! "Well, I have to get going, Shawn, I'm sorry. Perhaps we can discuss this further when you come to the arena Monday afternoon." In a fit of anger, I slam the phone down and glare at Bret, who is simply staring at me.
"What was that about?" He quietly asks me. I shake my head; for whatever reason, I just cannot tell him the truth. I can't do it…Not now, at least. Maybe some other time.
"It was nothing, Bret," I calmly say to his face. "It was nothing at all."
To Be Continued??
A/N: I will admit that this story is taking me a LOT longer to write than I originally anticipated. I know you guys have wanted an update for awhile now, so I apologize for making you wait so long to get one. I hope this chapter was satisfactory, and if you want me to continue, all you have to do is send me a review letting me know. Thanks!