Dark Saviour
Chapter 12 - Big Mistakes
….
Jeff walked silently into the arena feeling incredibly alone. He had been tempted to call in sick, but this was an important taping. Jeff's match tonight would set the tone for his match at the Royal Rumble this Sunday. As this was to be the last episode of Raw before the big pay-per view, if he had called in sick, Vince would have had his head. Even as miserable as Jeff felt at that moment, he really didn't feel like being chewed out by Vince tonight.
Although, staying late and being yelled at by Vince does have a certain appeal to it. Especially compared to what I get to look forward to instead, he sighed.
Jeff wandered down the hall, not a single soul in sight. Not that he had really expected to see anyone down at the back end of the arena. He had been supposed to travel with Shawn and Rey to every show once Matt left but the two Superstars had been no were to be seen at the hotel. All the Superstars had apparently left the early, leaving Jeff behind.
Jeff sighed, his entire being hurting as all of his doubts circled around his head. He didn't want to believe what Cena had been telling him for the past few nights, but with what had happened this morning, it was hard not to. There were so many different, logical, reasons as to why he had been left behind, but in Jeff's current state-of-mind, none seemed to fit properly.
When he finally made it to the locker room door, Jeff paused just outside the room, wondering if he should really go in there. If there were other Superstars in the room, he might make them feel uncomfortable. Taking a deep breath, Jeff decided that he had to go in, no matter what. He wasn't about to go hide in a corner in order to avoid the other Superstars. Taking a deep breath, he entered the locker room, only to have his heart constrict painfully in his chest. There were only two other Superstars in the room, but they were the last two he wanted to see: Undertaker and Jericho. Adverting his gaze, Jeff walked to the corner locker and dropped his bag on the bench.
The silence in the room was deafening and the tension was thick. Jeff continued to look directly in front of him, not wanting to see what was in the other Superstar's eyes. He was so focused on trying to avoid their gaze that he barely heard the door open and only looked up when he heard the door close. Turning, he noticed that Taker had left, leaving only him and Jericho in the room. Jeff turned back to what he had been doing, then stopped.
"Uh, Chris?"
"What do you want?" Jericho asked, snapping the words out.
Jeff flinched slightly at the venom he heard in Jericho's voice. "About last night . . ."
"Forget about it."
Jeff turned to look at Jericho. "But . . ."
"No, really forget about it. Forget I was even there," Jericho said, turning to look at Jeff, his eyes reflecting his mood.
"I just wanted to tell you that . . ."
"No," Jericho snapped. "I don't want to hear it."
"Chris," Jeff pleaded softly. "I . . ."
"No," Jericho repeated as he turned to leave the room.
"Please, don't do this. I don't know what I've done wrong. I . . ."
Jericho didn't reply, he merely walked out the door, not bothering to look back.
"I need your help," Jeff whimpered, feeling the tears wanting to spill over again. Damn it, he thought as he sank down onto the bench, his head in his hands. Could John have been telling the truth? Did they only talk to me because of Matt?
Jeff didn't look up when the door was opened once again. He didn't even bother moving when he felt someone sitting beside him.
"What's the matter, babe?" Cena asked.
"Get lost," Jeff muttered, not feeling up to dealing with any of Cena's bullshit.
"And not tell you the good news?"
Jeff looked up then as he turned to look at Cena. "You mean they found out you have cancer and you won't be able to be here any more?"
"No, silly," Cena smiled, slapping Jeff lightly on the arm. "I've been cleared. I'm coming back."
"What?"
"I'm coming back to Raw. I get to wrestle again."
"Great," Jeff muttered, letting his head fall back into his hands.
"I thought you would have been happy about that. I mean now, we get to spend all our time together."
Jeff merely groaned at that thought. My dream come true.
"Just think," Cena continued, not hearing Jeff's groan as he pressed up to the smaller man's body. "You'll win the title from Randy at the Royal Rumble. I'll have my triumphant return that night as well and then we can have title matches against each other until WrestleMania. We'll get to see each other every day and we'll get to work together too."
Kill me now, Jeff leaned back, wanting to cry even more now, but he couldn't, he wouldn't allow himself. He had already broken down once in front of Cena and he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing him cry again.
The door opened for yet another time, this time revealing one of the work crew. She looked around quickly before spotting Jeff sitting in the corner. "Um, Mr. Hardy? I was told to tell you that your match is up next."
Jeff nodded slowly, closing his eyes for a second before getting up. As he went to walk away, he was stopped when Cena grabbed hold of his hand.
"You be careful out there."
Jeff shook off Cena's hand and walked out of the room without a sound. He could feel the girl's probing gaze on his back as he walked to the gorilla position. He could almost hear her unspoken questions as he waited for his music to start.
I don't know how much more of this I can take.
….
Jeff's P.O.V.
This isn't too bad. I just have to climb up this stupid thing, do the leg drop and I'm home free. I can sneak out of here, hurry to my room and lock the door. There will be no need to see them tonight. There won't be any need to see anyone if I do this right. Hell, Mark and Jericho already hate me. They won't miss me if I'm not around.
What the hell am I thinking? Just do the stupid leg drop and pretend to be severely injured. Let them take you out on the stretcher and run as soon as you're cleared. Just do it like it was planned. There is no need for anything more extreme. I mean I don't really want to commit suicide here do I? Ah, what the hell, one more level won't hurt, will it? I'll just go up to the next beam and do the leg drop from up there. It can't be any worse then when I did it off the twenty-foot ladder.
Damn, that's high. Maybe I shouldn't have done this. Maybe I should have just stuck with the plan . . . and then what? Everything would go back to the way it was before? Ha, like that would ever happen. You're a damn fool Jeff, if you think that everything would be fine even if you did it from this height. The only thing left to do now is to wait until death comes to claim you, unless you make it claim you early.
Damn it, the crowd is cheering. At least they might miss me a little if I don't make it. I wonder what would happen to Randy if I changed the move a little? I don't want him to die too; I only need me to die, preferably quickly with little pain. Just a quick snap of the neck or something should do it, but I don't want Randy to die if I fail at this. He should be okay if I do this, but am I willing to take that risk? If I jump, I could die. If I don't, I'll fuck things up even more.
Ah, fuck it.
….
Jeff could hear the screams as he Swantoned off the lighting rig. The wind rushed past his ears and he felt almost suspended in mid air for a moment. Then, all too soon, he landed with a whomp on the padded flooring, the breath knocked out of him.
He could hear the ref's and medical attendants surrounding him, some talking to him as he tried to regain his breath. Blinking rapidly, he felt them putting a collar around his neck just to be safe and loading him onto a stretcher.
Damn it. That didn't work like I planned. Jeff thought as he was wheeled out of the stage area. Before he was taken away, he lifted his hand, giving his sign to the crowd. At the same time, he was sending a message to Matt, whom he was sure, was watching.
Yeah, fuck you, Matt. I don't need you to baby me. I don't need you to bribe people to be my friends. I don't need any of that shit. Apparently you can't get rid of me that easily.
….
Shannon ran around backstage, searching for Jeff. He had just seen what Jeff had done and was in a state of near panic. No matter who he ran into, no one knew where the Rainbow Haired Warrior had gone. Some seemed to think that after he was taken away from the stage, Vince had sent him to the hospital. While others seemed to believe that he was still around or had gone back to the hotel. Shannon had the feeling that Jeff was still somewhere around the arena and that he was just not looking hard enough for his friend. As Shannon continued to run around the halls, he finally came across the one Superstar who might be able to help him find Jeff.
"Hey, Jericho! Wait up!" Shannon yelled, running toward the Superstar.
"What is it, Shannon?" Jericho asked, looking at the younger man.
"I was wondering if you could help me."
"With what?" Jericho said, his voice full of concern. "Did something happen?"
"I don't know," Shannon shook his head. "I just want to make sure nothing did."
"What are you talking about?"
"Never mind," Shannon replied. "Have you seen Jeff?"
"No, why would I?"
Shannon couldn't mistake the hint of anger in the Canadian, nor the tick that worked in his jaw. "What's your problem?"
"Why would I have a problem?"
"Jericho."
"What?" Jericho shrugged.
"You're pissed off. Why?"
"No reason."
"Come on, man. I don't need you telling me lies too."
"Who else is telling you lies?" Jericho asked, confused.
"It doesn't matter," Shannon said, waving his hands. "I just don't understand why you got all hostile on me when I mentioned Jeff."
"Why don't you ask him?" Jericho retorted.
"I'm asking you."
"Well, if you want an answer to that, talk to Jeff. Or, better yet, ask Mark," Jericho snapped, storming off down the hall.
"But to ask him, I need to find him," Shannon called after him, his words falling on deaf ears as Jericho walked out the door.
And why would I ask Mark? It isn't like Mark has a crush on him or anything.
Shannon shrugged, slightly annoyed that Jericho wasn't going to help him out. He knew that he needed help to find Jeff, but no one seemed to be willing to lend a hand. Not sure what else to do, he made his way back to the locker room that Jeff was, or had, been in earlier hoping his friend had gone back to collect his things while he was running around. As Shannon got closer, he could hear sounds emitting from the locker room. Once he got to the door, he swore he heard the sound of a hand contacting with flesh.
"What the hell do you want?"
Thank god, I finally found him, Shannon thought, stepping closer to the door. Wonder if he's talking to Mark.
"I came to ask you what the hell you thought you were doing?"
That's not Mark's voice, Shannon peeked through the crack in the door and saw Jeff sprawled on the ground, Cena standing over him. What the hell?
"What did it look like?" Jeff asked, standing up slowly.
"Don't you dare take that tone with me!"
"What tone? The one that says I don't give a fuck?"
"What were you hoping to accomplish tonight? Huh?"
"To get away from you," Jeff snapped, turning away from Cena.
"Don't you dare turn your back on me!" Cena growled, roughly grabbing a hold of Jeff's arm so that he could turn him around.
Shannon flinched as he saw the multitude of bruises that ran up Jeff's exposed skin and the way he had tried to hide the pain they caused him.
"Why not? You didn't seem to mind that before? You actually asked for it," Jeff said sarcastically, earning himself a backhand from Cena. If Jeff had been standing one step closer to the wall, his head would have bounced off of it. As it was, he was able to brace himself against the wall instead.
"What did I say about that tone?" Cena snapped, roughly forcing Jeff to face him again.
Jeff looked up at Cena, a small trickle of blood flowing from his split lip. He rubbed at it roughly, never letting his gaze leave Cena's face. "You don't own me."
Cena laughed malevolently. "Think again."
"Why don't you just get lost? Nobody wants you around."
"I don't think so. They don't care if I'm around. It's you they don't want around."
Jeff looked away, trying to hide the hurt in his eyes. "You're wrong."
"Are we going to have to go through this yet again?"
"Leave me alone," Jeff muttered, turning his attention back to his belongings. As soon as his back was turned, Cena shoved him against the wall, pinning him there. The push was rough enough that it made the bench shake which caused Jeff's bag to fall to the floor where all of its contents scattered across the ground.
"You better watch that tone, Jeff, or I won't play nice any more?" Cena whispered.
"This is nice?"
Cena grabbed a fist full of Jeff's hair, pulled his head back and nearly smashed his face against the concrete wall. Fortunately, the small bottle that had rolled to a stop at his feet diverted his attention. Shoving Jeff's body into the wall instead, Cena bent over to pick up the bottle.
"What the hell are these?"
"What do they look like?" Jeff asked sarcastically.
Cena backhanded Jeff before he asked again, "What the hell are these?"
"Pills. What do you think they look like?" Jeff said as he spat out the little bit of blood in his mouth.
"What for?"
"To kill you."
Cena smacked Jeff again. "What are they for?"
"What do you think? I have a lot of bruises right now."
Cena nearly hit Jeff again, but then seemed to reconsider it. "There is no such thing as pills for bruises."
"No shit."
Cena glared at Jeff. "You're back on the painkillers, Hardy?"
"Hmm, I wonder."
That earned Jeff another hit, this one a little less forcibly. "Why?"
Jeff shrugged; trying to act like none of this affected him.
"Are you trying to destroy your career?"
"According to you, I don't really have a career, do I?"
"So what?" Cena paused, looking off into the distance as a thought came to him.
Shannon still stood silently in the hall, holding his breath. He had a feeling he knew exactly why Jeff was back on the painkillers. There were only a handful of reasons that he would ever go back to those and Shannon could see that this would definitely count as one of those reasons.
"You were trying to kill yourself, weren't you?" Cena asked finally, looking at Jeff strangely.
"And the last horse finally crosses the finish line," Jeff smirked, giving an exaggerated bow.
"So that stunt out there?"
"Botched it."
Cena's furry seemed to grow as Jeff's words sank in, the anger in his eyes flamed. Jeff shrank away slightly, backing into a corner.
"Looks like we're going to have to teach our friend here a little lesson in what happens when someone tries to leave."
Shannon quickly moved away from the door, not completely sure what to do. Jeff had tried to kill himself. Once with pills and another by doing that Swanton. Now he was going to get attacked by Cena and his accomplice for his attempts.
I need to go get help, Shannon thought, turning to run down the hall again. But as he went to turn, he felt large arms encircle him and pin him in place. Oh shit!
Shannon was lifted off his feet and carried into the locker room, the door closing firmly shut behind them.
"Looks like we have some company."
Cena and JBL turned from where they were and looked at Shannon. A hint of fear was in JBL's eyes while Cena couldn't have seemed more delighted by the sudden turn of events.
"Well, well. This is unexpected," Cena murmured, moving toward Shannon.
As Cena walked toward him, Shannon was able to see Jeff lying curled up on the floor, trying his best to protect his head. More bruises were already forming on his arms and he could see the cuts that littered his exposed flesh.
Shannon shuddered, not quite wanting to believe the extent of damage that had been done to his friend. Especially when he thought about the damage that he couldn't see. Cena stood before him, smiling brightly.
"So, you were planning an ambush, Jeff?" Cena asked, looking over his shoulder at the lump on the floor.
"No," Jeff managed to whisper hoarsely, as he struggled to a sitting position.
"Tsk, tsk. I just hate liars."
"I'm not lying," Jeff breathed, getting up weakly. "What are you doing here, Shan?"
"What's going on, Jeff?" Shannon asked, his eyes pleading.
"As if you don't know," Cena shook his head.
Jeff didn't answer. He only looked at Cena, his gaze never wavering. "Let him go, John."
"I don't think so," Cena smirked, walking back toward Jeff. "I think this is a good time to set an example."
"What?" Jeff looked at Cena, panic flashing in his eyes.
"Shannon?" Cena asked, ignoring Jeff's question. "Why did you come looking for Jeff?"
"I . . . I wanted to make sure he was okay."
"And is he?"
"No! How could he be? You're torturing him!"
"Why would you say that?"
"You're beating him to a bloody pulp!"
"And that's torture?"
"Yeah. Hell, you're making him pay for taking Jericho away from you!"
"Where did you hear that?" Cena asked, looking at Shannon sharply.
"I . . . I over heard you talking to JBL after he returned to Raw."
"What were you doing there?"
"Jeff left something for me at the arena and I had heard Dave talking about him the night before. I just wanted to check up on him."
"Oh, aren't you the loyal one," Cena smiled, grabbing a hold of Jeff's hair. "Now, I want you to watch closely, Jeff. I want you to see what happens to those who piss me off and to those who try to stand in my way," Cena nodded at the man holding Shannon, who promptly let him go.
Shannon stood, rubbing the circulation back into his arms when he was hit from behind. The force of the blow sent him sprawling to the ground. He rolled over quickly, just in time to see JBL's foot come toward him, catching him in the ribs.
Shannon cried out in pain at the same time Jeff yelled at them to stop. Cena kneed Jeff in the stomach as he tried to get up to help Shannon. Jeff buckled over as the wind was knocked out of him and his body cried out in pain. Batista moved to stand behind him, holding onto Jeff's arms to prevent him from trying to go anywhere again.
Jeff could feel the hot tears flowing freely as the beating continued. He cried out for them to stop, to leave Shannon alone, but his cries were to no avail. He was forced to just sit there and watch as the only person left in his life that still cared for him got beaten to a bloody pulp just because he had wanted to help him. Jeff let his head fall forward, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the site before him. After a few minutes, his head was jerked back up.
"Look at him!" Cena yelled, yanking at Jeff's hair painfully. "Look at him!"
Jeff reluctantly opened his eyes, his cry of horror lodging painfully in his throat. He could barely see Shannon's face behind the blood that now coated it.
"Just remember, if you ever try and get out again, that bloody mass on the floor will be Matt. And it will be a hell of a lot worse for him," With that, Cena roughly shoved Jeff to the ground, stepped over the lump that was Shannon and walked out of the room, followed closely by his two goons.
Jeff crawled his way over to Shannon, praying that he wasn't dead. As he reached the bloody mass on the floor, Jeff let out a shaky breath as he saw the slow rise and fall of Shannon's chest. Lifting the smaller man into his lap gently, he cradled him there for a few seconds, just thankful that Shannon was still alive.
"I'm so sorry, Shan," Jeff whispered, rocking slightly. "I never meant for this to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen."
….
Jeff walked toward his room at the hotel in a daze. His mind had all but shut down after Randy and Hunter had found him holding onto Shannon on the locker room floor. He vaguely remembered one of them leaving to go get Vince and the medical attendants. When Vince had shown up, he had been pissed. He had demanded an immediate explanation from Jeff, but when he saw that he wasn't going to get one, he told Jeff to go back to the hotel; Vince would look after Shannon personally.
So, there he was, slowly walking down the hall feeling completely lost and numb. He still didn't want to believe what had happened. He didn't want to think that, because of him, Shannon had been hurt and could have possibly been killed.
Damn it! Jeff closed his eyes tightly, trying desperately to hold back the fresh tears that wanted to be released.
Once Jeff reached his room, he stopped, just staring at the doorknob. He really didn't want to be alone tonight. He didn't want the voices in his head to yell at him for being an idiot. A bastard. A screw-up. Nor did he want to find out if someone was waiting for him on the other side of the door. Making up his mind, he drifted over to another room and knocked softly on the door. After a few minutes, Jericho opened the door.
"What do you want?" Jericho snapped.
"I wanted to talk to you," Jeff replied, biting his lip in an attempt to keep himself from breaking down.
"That makes one of us."
"Please, Chris . . ." Jeff pleaded softly.
"Why do you want to talk to me?"
"I . . . I need . . ."
"Oh, I get it. You need to ask me what to get your lover, huh? Well, I don't think so."
"My, lover?" Jeff looked at Jericho in horror. He doesn't think that I'm with him, does he?
"Yeah, I know all about it. You don't have to deny it any more."
"But he's not . . ."
"Don't fucking lie to me!" Jericho yelled, causing Jeff to shrink away.
"Chris, I'm not lying!"
"Sure, sure."
"I'm not! I don't have a lover! I'm alone!"
"Yeah, right. Why don't you go find your friend there and fuck him tonight instead of bothering me?" Jericho looked at Jeff with contempt before slamming the door in his face.
The tears that had threaten to come before, now spilled over. Jeff leaned against the wall, his arms encircling himself as he cried silently. He didn't know what to do anymore. The one guy he had hoped would still be his friend had just shut the door on him, locking him out. Before Jeff even realized what he was doing, he had made his way to yet another door and knocked on it in the manner he had used on Jericho's.
This time, Undertaker came to the door. As soon as he saw the emotion in Jeff's eyes and took in his tear stained face, Taker's own face became full of concern, his irritation at being disturbed forgotten. He quickly moved to Jeff's side, putting an arm around the younger Superstar and led him into the room. Undertaker moved Jeff toward the bed; the only free spot to sit in the room and got Jeff to sit on the edge before taking a seat next to him.
"What the hell happened to you, Hardy?" Taker asked.
Jeff shook his head, trying to regain his voice. "It's all my fault," he finally managed to say.
"What's all your fault?"
"Shannon," Jeff whispered so softly that Undertaker was unsure if he had heard him properly.
"Shannon?"
Jeff nodded, leaning against Taker's shoulder. "It's because of me that this happened."
"What happened?" Undertaker asked, putting his arm around Jeff, bringing him closer. He didn't know why, but he felt a strong need to comfort the younger man.
"I . . ."
"It's okay, take your time."
Jeff nodded, clinging onto Taker for support. "He was beaten because of me. If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have . . ."
"What? Shannon was beaten up?"
Jeff nodded into Taker's shoulder. "He came to find me and got beaten up for it," Jeff sniffed softly, not sure why he was telling Undertaker this. For some reason, Jeff felt safe in Taker's powerful arms.
"Who beat him?"
Jeff shook his head, unable to answer.
"Jeff, who did this?" Taker repeated.
Again, Jeff didn't reply. Undertaker sat there, holding onto the sobbing Hardy, rubbing his arms slightly. Looking down, he saw the cuts and bruises covering the soft flesh beneath his hands. Undertaker winced inwardly. He had suffered many injuries and hardships over his lifetime, but nothing quite like what the man in his arms seemed to be facing.
Jeff buried his face into Taker's chest, his tears staining the Deadman's shirt. "Why doesn't he like me?" he muttered.
"Hmm?"
"Why doesn't he like me?"
"Who doesn't like you?"
"Chris Jericho. He hates me. Everyone hates me. Why do they hate me?"
Undertaker didn't know what to say, his brow furrowed in confusion. He couldn't think of a single reason as too why Jericho would hate him, let alone the entire roaster. "Where did you get an idea like that?"
"You'd say something like that, wouldn't you?" Jeff said, looking up at the Deadman, his eyes full of accusation. "He's bribing you to, isn't he?"
"Bribing? Who's supposed to be bribing me?"
"Why do you pretend to like me?"
"I'm not pretending," Taker replied softly. "I have a great respect for what you do. You should know that."
"I know but . . ." Jeff whispered as he hung his head.
"There is no one I respect more than you," Undertaker said, wanting to easy the smaller man's obvious turmoil
When Jeff didn't reply, Taker looked closely at him, wondering if the young man had even heard him. It was then that he realized that Jeff had fallen asleep. Undertaker smiled lightly as he shifted so that he could let Jeff lie on the bed. As soon as Taker tried to move away, Jeff clung even tighter to him. Shaking his head, he carefully repositioned himself so that he could lie beside Jeff, his arms still wrapped protectively around the Rainbow Haired Warrior. He didn't want to hurt Jeff, nor wake him up, by forcibly removing his hands from his shirt. Undertaker held onto the smaller man tightly, not sure exactly why he was being so caring.
He just needs someone there for him. He was crying. I couldn't turn him away. I'm not that cold-hearted.
….
Jericho paced around his room, still fuming slightly from his encounter with Jeff. He couldn't believe the nerve of the kid. Jericho was about ready to grab something and throw it when his cell started to ring. Walking over to it, he glanced at the caller I.D. and saw that it was Vince.
"Hey, what's up?" Jericho asked, trying to hide his frustration.
"I was wondering if you knew where Jeff was?" Vince replied simply.
"No. Why should I?"
"I thought that he might have gone to see you since you two seem to be good friends. I doubt that he wants to be alone at the moment. Actually, he shouldn't be alone at the moment."
"What are you talking about?"
"Shannon was attacked in one of the locker room. He's doing all right, but he was beaten up pretty badly. I was just wanting to get in touch with Jeff so that I could let him know that Shannon is being taken care of."
"Shannon was beaten up?"
"Yeah, didn't you know?"
Jericho ran his fingers through his hair as he hung up on Vince. Damn it. That's why he came to me tonight! It wasn't about Mark. It was about Shannon. Shit.
Jericho flew out of his room and ran down to where Jeff was staying, pounding on the door as soon as he got there. When no one answered, he tried the door and found that it was open. Walking in, he saw that Jeff was nowhere to be seen. Jericho quickly searched the room before leaving, panicking slightly.
Where else would he have gone?
Not sure what else to do, he went to Undertaker's door and knocked lightly on it. Though he really wanted to pound on it, he knew that he would be dead if he tried that on Taker.When no one answered, he tried the door again. To his surprise, the door was unlocked just like Jeff's had been. Walking in quietly, expecting to have something thrown at his head, he quickly scanned the room.
Jericho's gaze fell on the bed where Jeff was lying sweetly upon it, wrapped protectively in Undertaker's arms. Jeff's head lay on Taker's shoulder while one hand lay on the Deadman's chest. A look of peace was on Jeff's face, but the light from the hallway showed the tears that still glistened on his cheeks.
Jericho swallowed against the lump in his throat as he silently walked out of the room, locking the door before closing it quietly. He leaned his head against the door for a moment, collecting his thoughts.
If he had been telling the truth, that they're not together, then they should be, Jericho sighed, letting his emotions settle down. That is the type of person he deserves and I will make damn sure that he gets what he deserves.
….
A/N: Poor Shannon. I have got to stop being mean to these guys one of these days.