Beth made a slightly displeased sound as she cranked at the gears of the van. "Fucking stick shifts, they should be illegal," she grumbled.

"I told you you didn't have to drive," Cena said from the front passenger seat. "There's almost a dozen of us who can all drive."

"Shut up. I said I would drive and I'm gonna drive." She leaned forward, glaring through the windshield. "It's just a couple more minutes away anyway, right?"

Cena glanced down, consulting the map in his hands, looking around and checking the name on a street sign they passed, tracing the street on the map again. "Yeah, looks good. Another mile up this road and then a left, and it should be right around in there."

Keith leaned up from the seat right behind them, looking over Cena's shoulder at the map. "Aren't we a little bit earlier than we said?"

"So we'll be the first ones there. No big deal. D'Amore knows we're coming," Jeff said from the very back of the van, where he, Morrison, and Batista had managed to squish themselves in beside their few remaining bags. "He's probably already pacing back and forth wondering what fresh hell we're bringing in on him."

"Boy, is he gonna be surprised," Chavo muttered. He, Eddie, Keith, and Josh were in the middle seat, with Eddie holding Rey in his lap so that Rey could keep his leg stretched across Chavo and Josh's laps to keep it from hurting too bad. Keith had checked on the surgery wound earlier, and re-cleaned it and bandaged it again. It wasn't infected, wasn't gaping or anything, was about as clean as it could be under the circumstances, which was all good news.

However, it had taken some effort for Eddie to wake Rey up to allow them to work on him, and though Eddie had offered him breakfast and Rey hadn't eaten since the day before, he'd barely eaten half of a breakfast bar and wouldn't take anything else. He was silent, morose, and withdrawn, would barely even make eye contact when spoken to, just staring blankly down at the ground or sitting quietly with his eyes closed-not asleep, just sitting. Keith had told them he was probably just exhausted and in pain, but the others weren't convinced, and Eddie suspected that Keith wasn't either, just trying to keep them from worrying. It hadn't been a successful attempt, but they did appreciate the effort, somewhat. But he was still worried that even though Rey had seemed to be able to keep up with them so far, that he was starting to slide somewhere they might not be able to reach him. Then again, after everything that had happened to them just in the last two days, Eddie knew he was mentally worn, and Rey had far, far more to work through than they did.

The respite had done the rest of them well, though. Josh had returned with jeans and plain black shirts and coats for all of them (which to Eddie's eyes, made them seem as though they were in some sort of bizarre uniform, but he kept that thought to himself), Keith had brought back this van, and Dave had ordered food from a small burger place just down the road that Keith had fetched to keep them from being seen. Beth, Chavo, Josh, and Keith had taken turns all night keeping watch, but nothing and no one suspicious had come through, and they were able to leave completely unmolested this morning, picking up a map from a gas station and starting towards Windsor, and Scott D'Amore's school.

"Start gathering up our things, guys," Chavo said to the three in the backseat. "Once we get there, Jeff, you go on ahead and make sure Scott's there, then we'll all hurry in as best we can to keep from getting noticed, if we can."

"What if there's already media people standing around?" Keith asked.

"For a wrestling press conference? No, they won't come until we call them with something very specific, and something really big."

"Right..."

"Here we are," Beth called back, pulling the van into a driveway and down towards a large concrete building. There was a single red Jeep in the parking lot, and there were no lights on, but Beth pulled as close to the door as she could anyway, grinding the van into park and swearing violently under her breath. "I will be glad to see the back end of these fucking vans."

Jeff managed to crawl over the seat and to the side door, starting to push it open. "Wow, this new place looks a lot better than that old garage he used to have," Jeff said, pulling the door. Even as he did so, a door on the building swung open, and Scott D'Amore stepped out, wearing black windpants and a red hockey jersey, adjusting his glasses and looking over at them, obviously quite frazzled.

"Hardy, get your shit and get in here now!" he barked out, before disappearing behind the door again.

"Yeah, he's here," Jeff said, hopping out of the van.

Eddie carefully lifted Rey into his arms, starting out of the van, sighing softly. "C'mon, wowito. It's almost over, buddy. We're in the home stretch."

Rey just leaned against him, closing his eyes, not saying anything, but he did reach one arm up to drape around Eddie's shoulders, hanging on as he was carried towards the building. Eddie sighed softly and kissed the top of his head gently, following after the others as they gathered things and started into the building. Eddie wasn't quite sure how they were going to go about explaining the situation to D'Amore without sounding completely insane...but he had the most important part of the whole thing in his arms right now. That would be explanation enough.

( )

Chavo and Josh made their way down a hallway of the building, glancing around, until Josh finally pushed open a door to what looked like a small lounge of sorts, with a couple of couches and a TV. "Looks like just the place to sprawl out and catch a few," Josh said.

"Probably won't get a chance to get too comfortable," Chavo said, even as he went to one of the couches and flopped onto it, stretching out.

"Yeah, but once the rest of the TNA guys get here and the media gets called, God knows when the next time we'll get to just sit and relax will be. We're gonna get called in for questioning and have to do Senate testimony and go on Oprah about how we feel and David Letterman will be doing brainwashing jokes for the rest of the year. I'm taking it while I have it." Josh headed for another couch and settled on it, sighing deeply.

Chavo shrugged a little, staring up at the ceiling. D'Amore had been somewhat agitated and irritated with them, lighting into Jeff for "dragging me into whatever mess this is," the instant he had come through the door. But as soon as Eddie had followed behind him, carrying Rey, Scott's face had gone completely white, and he, Eddie, Rey, Keith, and Batista had vanished into his office. D'Amore had taken just long enough to tell the others to make themselves at home, so they had, everyone going searching for whatever they could get their hands on in order to relax a little bit. Chavo and Josh had wandered off together, not in any particular search, but had decided on this lounge as soon as they were aware of it's existence.

"Where'd the others go?" Josh asked.

"Jeff and Johnny went exploring, I think Cena was going to see if he could find something for that burn in his ribs. I don't know where Beth got off to but I frankly don't care, because I feel bad for anyone who screws with her right now."

Josh snorted, then shook his head a little, sighing softly. "I can't believe we actually made it through," he said, rubbing his face. "After all the bullshit, we made it. It just doesn't even seem real."

"None of this seems real. I keep feeling like I'm going to wake up and roll over and reach over to the next bed, and poke Eddie and say 'Dude, you won't believe the crazy ass dream I just had,' because, I mean...honestly. All we need is some dinosaurs at this point."

Josh nodded. "It's weird, though. Doesn't seem like it should be so easy to slip away from a bunch of people with that much power and ability."

"Well, we got lucky. Keith was our turning point. Without him coming to warn us, we'd have been sitting ducks at the hotel."

"But what about that craziness with Kane and those other guys, that Alexander bastard? They had us and surely there was backup coming, all they would have had to do was hold us there, but they ran away."

"But they were outnumbered, and deep down, those crazy prisoners, those kinds of people, are cowards or narcissists or at the very least just don't want to risk their own hides. They don't want any part of a fair fight so they sure as shit don't want to tangle when they're at a disadvantage. Kane's a complete psycho, but he's not a stupid psycho."

"It just doesn't seem right, somehow."

"It's just because we've spent the last two days looking over our shoulders every second of every minute, being attacked and hurt and whatever else. Now we're safe but you haven't come out of the adrenaline rush. It might take a little while before everything's okay in your head. Don't worry, you get used to the fear thing after a decade or so in the business."

"I guess so. I just...it just all seems too easy."

"I'd hate to see what you think of as not easy, then," Chavo chuckled. "Because this has been really fucking difficult to me. Then again, you've been surprising me from the word go. I can't believe you're satisfied to be an announcer when you obviously know how to kick a few asses just fine."

"Yeah, whatever." Josh grunted, sitting up. "I'm going to go find something to drink. You want anything?"

"If you can find just a bottled water or something like that. I just want to lie here."

Josh nodded a little. "All right, I'll see what I can track down." He made his way to his feet and went to the door, letting it slip mostly shut behind him.

Chavo closed his eyes, yawning widely, resting a hand over his mouth, then rubbing his face, groaning slightly at how good the simple motion felt. He almost felt lazy, as though he could just fall asleep right there on the old sofa any second. He wanted to, actually, but he also knew that the instant he started to doze off, he'd have to wake right back up again, which would be even more annoying than just sitting here wishing for sleep. So he forced his eyes back open, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what sort of attention this would receive, how the world, how the government was going to respond to it. What was going to happen to them?

He hadn't let this on to the others, but he was terrified. Bad things happened to those who fucked with Uncle Sam, and even to innocent people like Rey who'd never done anything weren't safe. He was entertaining a notion of gathering his family and hauling ass to Mexico as fast as he could once he got home, though he wondered whether even that would do any good. It was very, very hard to keep from being pessimistic about everything.

He wasn't going to take this back, though. It had to be done and he was one of the ones who had to do it. That was all there was to it.

( )

Cena stripped out of his clothes as fast as he was able with his hurting body and stepped into the locker room's bathroom, heading for the nearest showerhead and standing to one side, turning the water to get it as hot as he figured he could stand. He and Beth had ended up falling asleep where they lay last night, in the middle of their conversation, and so far as he knew, he hadn't moved until she had waved a McMuffin under his nose this morning. He hadn't said so, but if anything, he was even more sore all over today than yesterday, and every time he moved, it was like setting his muscles on fire. Part of him protested that taking a shower at a time like this seemed very inappropriate. The rest of him had long ago given up on appropriateness and was just worried about doing whatever was necessary to maximize his own comfort, and he hoped that, given the lack of decent painkillers, heating pads or even a nice bath available, that maybe a scalding shower would suffice.

The water finally got hot to a level that he appreciated, and he stepped under, hissing a little bit at the heat. Steam poured up from the water, causing him to close his eyes, sighing softly, but grunting when the water hit the burn on his side, reaching down to put a hand over it, grumbling softly to himself. "Fuckin' scientist fucks...better hope I never catch up with them or we'll see who jabs who with what..."

"Well, since we'll never see that guy again outside of maybe a courthouse, you'll just have to settle with knowing Dave and I kicked the living hell out of him for you."

Cena blinked his eyes open at the voice and turned his head quickly, not able to see clearly because of the steam and water in his eyes, but very aware of the shape of a smaller, blonde, distinctly feminine shape standing in the doorway to the showers...completely nude. Cena slapped one hand over his eyes and turned away quickly, hesitating, turning the other way, feeling his face flush as he did a somewhat bizarre shuffle as he tried to figure out exactly what part of himself to shield. "Beth, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Oh, relax," she responded in an annoyed, yet amused tone of voice, and he heard the padding of bare feet on tile floor as she came in, past him, and to the next shower, cranking on that water as well. "I already told you I've seen you naked."

"A picture on the computer is a very long step away from taking a shower together!" Cena responded, crouching to try and hide his own nakedness, still with a hand over his eyes. "And I don't want to get the crap kicked out of me for seeing you!"

"John, honestly, like I'd waltz in here in the buff if I cared if you saw me."

Cena hesitated, turning his head towards her but keeping his eyes closed. "You sure?"

"Hell, I just wanted a hot shower of my own and I didn't want to be by myself. Glamazons can get a little spooked once in a while, too."

"You're just very direct in what you do, aren't you?" he asked, slowly standing and opening one eye a crack, peeking at her.

Beth had her head tilted down, letting the water pour through her hair, hanging in half-soaked and half-still-dry wads around her shoulders. "I don't play a lot of games, if that's what you mean. I just do what I do."

"Yeah, that's what I mean." Cena mentally shook himself, taking care to keep his gaze fixed on the wall, gentlemanly instincts kicking in despite Beth's assurances. "At least Scott keeps the water cranked up nice and warm."

"He does do that. It's very fortunate." Beth blew out a breath. "So, how are you feeling?"

"I'm hurting, I'm tired, I want to go home. How about you?"

"Yeah. Especially the going home part. My head's actually feeling better, it's just everything else is worn out and tired."

"Not a huge surprise, considering everything that's happened to us," Cena said, a hand going to the burn again.

"It looked like those guys beat you up a little when we came to save you," Beth said, looking up at him.

"Well, it must not have been too bad. It doesn't feel any worse than getting thrown through a spotlight."

"I'd imagine not much does." Cena felt a hand on his arm, and glanced over at him, blinking water out of his eyes as Beth stepped a little closer, looking up at him, seeming strangely somber for her. "I was really worried about you, man. I mean, anyone bad enough to get the upper hand on you has to be dangerous, and they called us and we could hear you screaming in the background...I've never heard anything like that before."

"Well...you know, I'm fine. I've been in worse scrapes than that, and besides, I got you guys to back me up." He flashed a quick smile, taking her hand and squeezing it. "So far you're my big hero."

"I'm serious!" she said, pushing his hand away in a sort of slap. "John, you didn't hear you screaming, you didn't hear...you were trying to tell us to leave you behind and we...for God's sakes, John, look at this!" She stepped closer, putting a hand to his ribs. "They fucking burned you-!" She stopped a moment, blinking, glanced down, then stepped back quickly, wincing. "Right, I know you're a guy and can't help it so I'm not holding that against you, but holy crap."

Cena blushed immediately, turning and starting out of the shower, grabbing at a handful of paper towels from the dispenser near the sink and starting to do his best to dry himself off. "Sorry, sorry, just...what the hell do you expect, I mean, geez..."

Beth stepped out behind him, picking up the jacket she'd worn in and pulling it on as a sort of makeshift robe. "I told you I'm not holding it against you. I know you can't help it. But good lord, how do you wrestle with that thing in there? No wonder you wear shorts past your knees."

"Good God, Beth, do you ever not offer such lovely commentary?"

"Sometimes not, I-,"

In his haste, Cena swiped hard across his ribs, and involuntarily yelped in pain, grabbing at the wound, dropping the towels. "Damnit, I will be so ready when this thing stops hurting!"

Beth sighed a little, and all but pushed Cena to sit down on a bench. "Let me look at it." She scooted around to his side, swatting his hands away from the wound and starting to look it over. "It looks a lot better than it did, at least, but it might be getting infected. You'll probably need to see a doctor once we've got people coming."

"What else is new?" Cena asked, then grunted as Beth probed at the wound. "Um, hi, ow. What are you doing?"

"It looks like you've got a knot here, like a lump, you know. That's weird, there shouldn't be a knot in a burn."

"Well stop poking at it!"

"It's weird-looking, John, it might be something bad, I just want to..." Beth stopped mid-sentence, frowning, and crouched down a little, looking closer. "It looks like there's a little cut here."

"A cut?" Cena looked down at where she was pointing, lightly touching the spot himself. "What the hell did they do to me that has a cut?"

"Well, whatever this is, it looks like they tried to cauterize it or something with the burns, it's sealed shut but it's definitely a cut..." She frowned, touching it again, despite a curse and a swipe from Cena. "That bump is right underneath it."

"Well maybe they stuck something in there, then," Cena muttered absently, brushing her hands away from touching the wound. "Just stop-," Cena froze mid-sentence, glancing down at the wound, seeing Beth looking up at him with huge eyes, and he probed at the wound just as she had, but more urgently, growling in pain but finding the lump Beth had mentioned, pinching it between his fingers, testing the feel of it, discovering it to be a round shape, hard, and somewhat loose, as though he could roll it around underneath, it wasn't attached to anything...

"Son of a bitch!" he shouted, leaping to his feet. "Those motherfuckers put a tracker in me! I'm going to fucking kill those sons of bitches if I ever see them again! I don't believe this!"

"John, John!" Beth grunted, grabbing at his hands, trying to silence his fit. "John, if they have a tracker in you, they know where we are!"