Chapter 13
A low groan escaped Grace's lips a few hours later, the pain all rushing to her at once, and slowly fluttered her eyes open, wondering where she was. Her head was killing her along with her arms and upper torso region. She tried sitting up and hissed out, immediately regretting that move before lying back down, feeling an ice pack on her forehead. She slowly removed it, wondering who she was with, and suddenly saw a pair of acid green eyes flash through her mind.
'Oh no.' She thought, the panic consuming her, and closed her eyes as a tear fell down her cheek, her stomach tightening even though it hurt to do so.
"Don't sit up." 'Taker instructed, pulling the sheet higher on her. He had removed her shirt in order to examine her ribs, somehow not surprised to find her torso bruised. "You're very lucky that nothing is seriously wrong with you besides some bruising and a mild concussion." He removed the ice pack and sighed, not moving from his place by her on the bed.
This wasn't happening. She was with the Undertaker, her brother, and she didn't have a shirt on. Grace began to tremble slightly, hissing when her torso warned her with a stab of pain not to do that. Grace took deep breaths, trying to calm down, and finally opened her eyes to stare up at him, swallowing hard.
"What happened?" She whispered out, feeling him replace the ice pack on her head, knowing it was probably bruised too. "The last thing I remember was my dad...our dad..." She suddenly looked away from him and bit her bottom lip, tears falling down her cheeks.
"Paul is currently in the hospital with a concussion and multiple lacerations to his head, as far as I know he is also still unconscious." 'Taker said with no remorse at all in his voice or on his face. "And you got in the way of Kane and myself, inadvertently, but..." That was that, she was officially up to date. "And if it eases your mind, I didn't touch you in any way other than to bandage your midsection."
Grace swallowed hard and nodded, slowly moving to sit up again, very slowly and managed to do so. "Can I have my shirt please?" She asked quietly, feeling the material in her hand, and slipped it on, realizing she still had her bra on. Good. That was a good sign. "What am I doing here?" She finally asked, pressing the ice pack to her stomach underneath the shirt, letting out another hiss.
"I thought that would have been obvious. I brought you here." He said sounding annoyed with her apparent slowness. 'Taker stood up, walking over to the mini bar to pour himself a drink, studying her. "You look nothing like me." He said flatly.
"And you look nothing like me." She replied softly, staring at him with curious amber eyes. "You actually remind me of someone." She quietly admitted, chewing her bottom lip, and raked a hand through her hair as she sighed sadly. "But that's impossible considering he's dead." It was the eyes and she knew it. She'd had that dream and couldn't stop thinking about the eyes and how similar they were. "Thank you for...treating me, I think..." This was awkward as hell, considering what this man had done to her, and shivered involuntarily with dread at the thought.
"Who do I remind you of?" He asked, his voice deceptively soft. Deceptive simply because she had never heard him speak this humanly and no doubt she'd think it some sick sort of game he was playing with her. He shot down his drink, refilling the tumbler and went to pull his own shirt off then stopped, knowing that would only cement in her mind he was playing aforementioned game.
"My best friend." She softly said, wincing a little as she leaned back against the headboard, closing her eyes. "I haven't thought about him in years until I came to work here. I know why. It's your eyes." Her voice remained softly, slowly opening them and leaned forward a little, trying to stretch her ribs out even though they were killing her. "He had green eyes like yours. His name was Mark. He um...he died when he was eleven years old. Died with his family in an accident." She didn't know why she was telling him this, but now that Grace knew this was her brother, she had a feeling he wouldn't hurt her or attack her.
His eyes narrowed somewhat, contemplating that before deciding to keep whatever he was thinking to himself, shrugging. "Sorry he died." He said finally, walking around to drop down into a chair, dangling one long leg over the arm and stared broodingly at her. "Paul never told you before tonight then?"
"No." She whispered, her eyes lowering to the bedding below, and wrapped her arms around herself, clearing her throat. "Believe me, if I knew you were my brother, do you really think I would've kept something like that hidden?" She scoffed, slowly standing up, and had to sit back down as she held her side. She'd been crushed, literally, by over 600 pounds. She had a right to be in a lot of pain. "I had no idea about you or Kane." Grace felt her eyes swell with tears again and started crying. "I had no idea..." She buried her face in her hands, both crying from the pain of what happened and the pain of her father's deceit.
He had seen people cry before and it always amused him to no end, normally. "Would you like something for the pain?" He asked, not wanting to see her cry, feeling uncomfortable and looked away as if her tears were indecent, getting up to move to the window, looking out.
"No." She whispered and laid back down on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest as the tears soaked it, her entire body shuddering. She wanted Steve, craved to have his arms around her, missing him more than words could say. Everything was crashing around her as Grace wiped her tears away frantically, trying to stop crying. "You have two other sisters by the way." She didn't flinch when his head snapped to face her, his green eyes glowing. "I'm the youngest out of the three."
"I could care less." 'Taker said flatly, not about to be drawn into whatever happy family, druggie hippie commune they came from. Paul had more kids than a dog had fleas, honestly. The man must be a cult leader or something. Yeah, that was it. He snorted. "Do they all look like you?"
"No, they have my-our dad's eyes...and black hair from our mother." She swallowed hard, slowly standing up from the bed, needing a drink desperately and poured herself a glass of whatever he was having. "My hair is dyed. It was originally sandy blonde, but with my eyes, it didn't work too well. I was too pale so I switched." Her father had sandy blonde hair while her mother had black with amber orbs. She slowly turned around to face him, knowing they had to make some kind of reconciliation. "Undertaker, whatever has happened between us, I'm not mad at you about it anymore. You're my brother. I know you probably don't care what I think, but..." She sighed and downed the shot of bourbon, groaning as it burned down her throat and set the glass down. "I just wanted to let you know..."
He snorted, turning to look at her with an arched eyebrow. "You're right, I don't care." He said flatly, wondering just how in the hell she was up walking about considering it looked like she had been steam rolled. "And given what I did too you, the fact that you're standing there extending an olive branch is a bit weird."
"You're my brother and you didn't know we were blood related." She simply replied, wincing slightly as she walked over and sat back on the bed, not taking her eyes from him. Family was everything to her and knowing she had two big brothers out there, no matter how different they were, warmed her heart a little. "The past is the past. It can't be changed. But we're family whether you like it or not and blood is always thicker than water." She seen him raise a slow black eyebrow and stared into those green eyes again, eyebrows furrowing together. "Can I ask you something about Kane?"
This woman was on drugs. What had he been thinking? He groaned, envisioning it now. Holiday cards, family pictures sent to him whether he wanted them or not. Being publically acknowledged by this little freak of nature. He felt a headache coming on. She was so much more likeable as an object.
"You can, whether I answer or not is another story." He said slowly, green eyes narrowing.
This was going to sound completely out of place, but Grace couldn't shake this feeling inside of her. "How old was Kane when he was burned?" She asked softly, remembering Mick telling her Undertaker had set the fire, which was when she bolted out of Larry's office. This was so confusing; Mark was dead so why was she trying to piece a puzzle together when there was no reason too? 'Mark is dead.' She thought and pulled out the wallet from her jean pocket, pulling out the picture and unfolded it, shaking her head before tucking it away again.
"I don't know, seven or eight." He said emotionlessly, turning his head to look out the window. "Why? Would you like a family history? I'm afraid I couldn't give you a very detailed one, I know very little about him. He spent most of his life in an institution from my understanding and I don't know anything about him before the fire either. So ask your father."
"Seven or eight..." She whispered painfully, closing her eyes. "Glen..." She didn't notice the Undertaker's eyes stare at her as she stood up from the bed, feeling sick to her stomach, and needed another shot. Something to numb the pain. It was over thirty years ago and she still missed them to this day. Something was wrong, something wasn't right. Glen and Mark were dead. DEAD! She downed the shot and poured another, downing that one before sinking down on the floor, raking her hand through her hair. "What if my dad is lying, Undertaker?" She suddenly asked aloud, looking up at him. "How do we know we're related without proof? Is Undertaker even your real name? Kane's?" There were so many questions that had to be answered.
Definitely drugs, had to be. Grace was insane. "Of course Undertaker isn't my real name, are you daft woman?" He demanded crossly, dropping back into his chair with a grunt, looking at his empty glass as if staring at it would make it refill itself. "And Paul has been known to on occasion, one of the many traits of his I rather admire. Get to your point."
She stood up from the floor, not knowing why she was doing this, and walked over to stare into his eyes, seeing something familiar in them, but she couldn't pinpoint it. Glen had been seven when he died in a fire...Her father had told her Mark had died with them, all of them, both boys and their parents, and they hadn't found the bodies. Grace felt breathless and didn't break eye contact, pulling her wallet out and the picture before unfolding it.
"Do you recognize this?" She slid it into his hand, taking his glass from him, and sat on the bed that was right across from his body. "Do you recognize those two boys in the picture?"
Audibly sighing, letting Grace know he was nearing the point of annoyance, 'Taker stared down at the picture, both eyebrows rising for a moment. "It looks like me." He said finally, handing the picture back to her. "I don't know who the other boy is though. Where did you get that and how?"
"That's Mark." She softly said, pointing to the boy with the green eyes and auburn hair. "This is his brother Glen. Mark was my best friend when I was ten years old. Glen was seven. They died in a funeral home with their parents in a fire..." She swallowed hard, beginning to tremble slowly. "M-My father said that the boy's bodies were never found in the fire and he buried their parents. He took me out of town right after it happened." She looked back into his green eyes. "What's your real name?" Grace asked, pain and confusion in her amber eyes.
"It's Mark." He said stonily, standing up when her mouth dropped. "Don't start asking me a million and one questions either because I have no memory of my childhood." 'Taker stared at her, watching her heart in her eyes and it looked like it was breaking all over again. "I don't know a Glen either."
"Well...do you know what Kane's real name is?" When he shook his head, Grace sighed as she lowered her head, biting her bottom lip. This was too coincidental. What if this was Mark? What if her father had lied to her about them dying in the fire? What if... "Oh my god..." She whispered, dropping the picture to the floor. It was all coming together now, there was no two ways about it unless these two men went through the same thing Mark and Glen had. "The bodies were never found and Kane wears a mask. To hide burns. Marcus..." She watched as he froze dead in his tracks and jumped back when a low growl escaped his lips, her eyes widened as he held his head in his hands. It looked like he was in some serious pain. "Undertaker?"
It felt like a thousand sharp knives were trying to cut a hole in his skull, pressure building against a dam, a dozen other things he couldn't describe at the moment, hissing and leaned against the wall. He held out a hand when she took a hesitant step forward. "Keep back!" He shouted.
"W-What's wrong?" She jumped again when he let out a roar, blinking, and didn't know what to do. Did she stay back or did she try to ease his pain? She was a doctor after all. "Mark, I'm walking very slowly. Listen to my voice." She was ignoring her own pain, swallowing hard. "I'm moving very slow." She didn't listen when he warned her away again and grabbed his head in her hands, using a technique she learned in medical school. "Don't concentrate on the pain, concentrate on me, hold onto my voice." She ordered and began massaging his head, her eyes never leaving his, seeing how much pain he was in. From what she had no idea. Too many drinks? She didn't know.
Didn't she listen? And then to call him Mark on top of everything. 'Taker pushed her away, hearing her shriek of pain and knew he had gotten her bruised torso, wincing as her cries of pain intensified his own. Then just as suddenly as it started, the pain stopped and he straightened, staring down at her, breathing heavily. All he could do was focus on breathing and just look at her.
Grace was holding onto her torso for dear life as the fire raged through it, biting her bottom lip as he simply stared at her. Through the pain, Grace couldn't look away from his green eyes, swallowing hard, and slowly moved to sit on the bed. They were emeralds...they were familiar, very familiar. That's how Mark's eyes always reminded her of.
"I-I was just trying to help..." She whispered out painfully and took the ice pack, which was halfway melted by now, pressing it under her shirt again, hissing out. He was still staring at her, not even blinking.
"Next time I tell you to stay away, stay away." 'Taker said gravely, walking over to open the nightstand drawer, tossing her a bottle of Vicodin. "I had Mideon procure those for you, take one." He ordered, raking both hands through his hair, hoping he wouldn't be feeling that pain ever, ever again. It was worse then how he had felt after Hell in a Cell with Foley and that had HURT. "And my name is 'Taker, not Mark."
Grace could only nod, refusing to take the Vicodin, and laid down on the bed. "I'm sorry." She whispered softly, pulling the comforter over her, knowing she couldn't go anywhere. Not tonight. She was in too much pain both physically and emotionally. Her mental stability was shot. She actually thought he was Mark. It couldn't be him...it just couldn't. Grace decided she was going to talk to Kane, no matter what, needing to find out the answers only he could answer for her.
"Take the pain killers." 'Taker grunted, the bed dipping as he sat on the edge, taking the bottle and opening it, tilting a pill in his hand. "It'll lessen the pain and make it easier to sleep." He said firmly, looking prepared to force them down her throat if necessary, which he was. "Grace, you don't have to be tough and pretend it doesn't hurt." His tone changed, it was gentle now.
"I-I'm fine." She whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks, the pain excruciating. Grace looked up into his eyes, seeing the worry swirling in those acid pools and sighed before taking the pill and glass of water he handed her, downing it. "Thank you." She whispered, lying back down on the bed, snuggling against the pillow. In no time flat the Vicodin had kicked in and she was fast asleep, her blood red hair splayed all over the pillow, her face full of dried tears though otherwise she looked like an angel.
He stared down at her, a frown creasing his brow, green eyes troubled. Almost hesitantly, he took a strand of her blood red hair between his fingers, rubbing the silky locks for a moment before letting go. If Grace was his sister then he was a fucking goat. There was no way in hell she could be, absolutely none. He hoped, else wise he would wind up having to go check himself into a clinic to get rid of the sick thoughts in his head.