A/N: Animal Luvr 4 Life, I'm glad to see someone is so gung ho about protecting Jeffy! ;) And don't worry, Matt'll get his, down the line; slashdlite, glad you're still with me, and I'll try to keep the updates moving a little more frequently from now on; ponygirl-loves-mcqueen, glad you're digging it :) Renna33, McMahon comes across as kind of a pig-headed idiot on the show, so I wanted to portray him that way (and I wish he'd come back to RAW; it was the best when he was on!) Nobody's Love, thank you, and I'll try to keep the unexpected stuff coming; Seraphalexiel, I'm glad you're enjoying the chaos as much as I am! :) Phoenix-Syren, some of your questions will be answered in this very chapter…
Thanks to all who reviewed!
As always, WWE owns all, I own nothing.
Beep. Beep.
The quiet and constant murmur of the hospital machinery was doing its best to lull Mark into an uncomfortable sleep.
He would've fallen asleep hours ago, in fact, were his mind not saturated with restless turmoil.
He couldn't take his stormy eyes off of Jeff's sleeping face. Swollen skin, ugly bruises, and scattered lacerations told the story of what had happened in the garage last night.
He rubbed a hand across his weary eyes, silently berating himself for the thousandth time. He should've known Matt would do something like this.
He should've been there to protect Jeff.
Mark reached out, tentatively, and pushed a stray lock of blue hair behind Jeff's ear, being careful not to touch any of his fresh bruises. Shaking his head slowly, the Deadman took a deep, unsteady breath.
"I'm sorry, kid", he said softly, "I screwed up."
"Mark?" A soft voice sounded from the doorway.
Swiveling his head around, the Deadman frowned when he saw Jay standing there, looking contrite, a vase of fresh flowers in hand. Mark stood, rising to his full, intimidating height, and walked over.
"Put those down", he said, gesturing to the flowers. The tenderness in his voice had been replaced with cold fury. "I need to speak with you."
Swallowing nervously, Jay put the flowers on the windowsill, and followed the Deadman out into the hallway, glancing sadly at Jeff as he went.
He noted the tension in Mark's stance, the way he'd balled his hands into white-knuckled fists. Jay knew that he deserved any and all crap that came his way. He felt terrible for leaving Jeff last night. He hadn't thought that anyone might be following them.
He hadn't signed up for this. Jeff wasn't supposed to get hurt. God damn Adam. He would kill that slippery fucker when he got his hands on him.
"Where the fuck were you?!", growled Mark, with no pretense, "You were supposed to be with him, all night!"
"I was, god dammit!", replied Jay defensively, "I just… We separated in the garage, as soon as he spotted his car. He was right there, man! A few feet away from it!"
Undertaker narrowed his eyes dangerously. "A few feet was all Matt needed to beat the living fuck out of him."
Jay couldn't meet Mark's furious glare. "I know. I fucked up, Mark, okay?" He looked up into the maelstrom that was the Deadman's gaze, his eyes pleading. "I'm sorry."
He knew that the sentiment was insufficient as soon as it left his mouth, but he didn't know what else to say.
Mark just grunted in reply. Without another word, he returned to the room, and to his vigil by Jeff's bedside.
Taking Mark's silence as some sort of acceptance, Jay followed him into the room. He sat down and studied Jeff's battered face, wincing inwardly at the damage done.
Mark took one of the young Hardy's limp hands into his own and bowed his head, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of his concern. Jay bowed his head as well, in silent sympathy.
Silently, they sat, and waited for their friend to wake up.
* * * * * * *
"You did WHAT???!!!", yelled Adam, his hands pulling at his hair in agitation.
"First of all, shut up", said Matt in a warning tone, "I don't want the entire roster coming down on our asses because you couldn't keep your drama queen ass quiet."
Adam lowered his voice to a frantic whisper. "What the fuck are you talking about? You beat Jeff up in the arena parking garage and left a note behind, saying it was you? What the fuck is wrong with you?! Are you mental?!"
Matt slapped his cohort across the face, stunning Edge into silence.
"Now that I have your attention", the older Hardy said calmly, "I can tell you about your part in all of this."
Edge rubbed his cheek where Matt's hand had stung him, his eyes watching Hardy suspiciously. "What part?"
"The part that prevents both of us from getting fired. We need to take steps."
Adam began chewing on his nails and spitting them out. His wide eyes never left Matt's face.
The older Hardy leaned in, a crooked smile set upon his face. "I hate to say it, Adam", he said, "But it's time for you to pay Vickie another visit."
"And I hate to say it, Matthew", replied Edge, furious that he'd partnered with such an idiot, "But Vickie is not the highest-ranked person in this company. Jeff will undoubtedly take your letter to McMahon the second he's able to walk again-"
"Vickie has been with this company for how long now?", Matt interrupted.
"What the fuck does that matter?!"
"Just answer the question", Matt ordered, his tone quiet and dangerous.
Edge sighed, annoyed. "I don't know. At least a decade."
Matt looked satisfied with this answer. "And she's worked on a managerial level for years. Close to McMahon, or at least, closer to him than the wrestlers ever get."
Edge glared. "What is the fucking point?"
"The point", Matt replied smugly, "is that in all that time, she must have gleaned some tidbit of information on McMahon. Something incriminating that would make people sit up and look at him in a different light. Maybe he cheated on Linda with one of the divas, maybe he launders company money. Who knows? I want you to find out for me."
"You want to fucking blackmail McMahon?!", Edge's face was the picture of horror, "Are you out of your god damn mind?!"
Matt just smirked.
The Rated R Superstar shook his head rapidly back and forth. "Hell no", he said, "I am not doing it."
Before he could react, Matt had wrapped a hand around his throat, and thrown him into the wall. He began to cough and choke as the pressure increased around his larynx.
"You will get the information we need", Matt snarled, "Because you're in just as deep as I am, now. We'll be needing that information for leverage when the shit hits the fan. Yes?", Matt leaned in expectantly. Adam let out an uncomfortable-sounding splutter in reply. Matt ignored it. "Now, if I see you again, and you haven't taken care of this, I swear to god, Edge, I will gut you like a fish. Do we understand each other?"
The blonde superstar nodded weakly in reply, desperate for air. He collapsed limply to the ground when Matt released him.
"Go. Get out of here", Matt growled, gesturing towards the door of his private locker room.
Scowling, holding his neck, Adam rose and shuffled towards the door.
He'd go and freshen up a bit before seeking Vickie out in her office.
He shook his head as he walked down the brightly-lit arena hallway. He was fucked. Truly, utterly fucked.
* * * * * * *
Mark sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair the hospital had provided him, one arm resting limply on the side-rail of Jeff's hospital bed. Across the room, Jay slumbered against the wall, lightly snoring.
Mark sighed heavily. He envied the blonde superstar his ability to fall asleep under these conditions. The Deadman knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until Jeff opened his eyes.
Sitting up straight, he reached into the back pocket of his worn blue jeans, pulling a dirty, crumpled piece of notebook paper out. As quietly as he was able, he straightened it out so that it would be readable.
For the fifth time, Mark gazed darkly at the letter Shawn and Hunter had handed to him in the waiting room hours earlier. The fact that it had been left so blatantly on Jeff's unconscious body infuriated him nearly beyond reason.
His eyes scanned over the page, taking in every insult, and every threat.
"I hate you with all of my being, Jeffrey Nero Hardy."
"I will spend every waking moment of my life working to make yours a living hell."
"You don't measure up as a person, or as a man, or as a brother."
This would kill Jeff if he saw it.
His grip tightened on the battered piece of paper, crumpling it in his fist. He pretended that it was Matt Hardy he was crushing with the strength of his monstrous hand.
"Mark?"
A weak, unsteady voice suddenly broke his anger-filled haze, and he dropped the letter into his lap as quickly as if it were on fire.
Mark's gaze turned to the bed, where Jeff was watching him with glazed, half-lidded eyes.
"Hey, kid, it's about time you woke up", the Deadman said, a gentle smile on his chiseled features.
The younger man struggled to sit up, then paused, a wince of pain clouding his features.
"Hey, easy there", said Mark, trying to ease him back down to the pillows, "There's no need to be jumping out of bed just yet."
"Fuck, that hurts", Jeff cursed, holding his bruised side.
Mark forced himself to push down the rising fury in his gut, cresting higher and higher with each wince and gasp that Jeff evinced. He promised himself, silently, that Matt would feel far worse when he got his hands on him.
"How did I get here?", Jeff asked quietly, his pain-filled green eyes locked on Mark, "I passed out after…" He trailed off, obviously not wanting to say anymore.
"Shawn and Hunter found you, laid out in the parking garage", Mark replied, his voice shaking with anger, "They called an ambulance, and they were kind enough to call me after you'd been brought in for observation."
Jeff seemed satisfied with this answer.
"Jeff", said Mark, his rough voice as gentle as it ever got, "The second you're out of here, we're going to McMahon. No more fucking around with this. We're reporting Matt's actions, and you'll show him every bruise on your damn body if you have to, until he agrees to either suspend or fire that bastard brother of yours."
The young Hardy began to nervously pick at the loose threads of his blanket, his gaze directed firmly downwards.
"Jeff?", prompted Mark, watching his young friend warily.
The Enigma looked up, his face pale, his eyes wet with unshed tears.
"He's my brother, Mark. This business is his life. It always has been. I get this feeling that, in a lot of ways, it's all he has left. Even after everything he's done to me, well, I don't know how I could take that away from him", he said quietly, "What the hell am I supposed to do?" He dropped his head into his hands.
Mark wished to god he had an answer for him.
* * * * * * *
"Thanks, Vickie, I had a good time." Edge swallowed the bile in his throat as he tried to suppress the horrible memories of the tryst he'd had last night with Smackdown's GM.
"Oh, me too, Addy-poo", she gushed, smiling widely, her great horse-teeth jutting out the front of her pink-lipsticked mouth. She sauntered up to the blonde superstar, a pouting smile on her wide lips.
Wrapping her arms around his waist, she said quietly, "You won't tell anyone about that little thing I let slip, will you? I know how you boys like to gossip in the locker room-"
Closing his eyes and pretending it was anyone else, Edge leaned down and kissed the nasty beast. Drawing back with a feigned smile, he replied, "Your secret's safe with me, Vickie."
He pulled out of her tight grasp then, and walked out of her office, turning back to shoot her one last crooked grin before his departure. He heard her sigh as he turned his back.
Yup, if there was one thing he'd learned, it was to always leave them wanting more.
He moved down the near-empty arena halls, towards the locker rooms. He had to find Matt.
All of the ass-kissing, pillow-talking, and love-making had finally paid off. Because Vickie had dropped a bomb last night.
Maybe their jobs would be saved after all.
* * * * * * *
A short-ish chapter, but I needed to post something, for God's sake! What will happen if ( or when ) Jeff sees the letter? What did Vickie tell Edge? What else does Matt have planned for poor Jeffro? AH! So much to think about, so little time! REVIEW! I LOVE REVIEWS!!! ;)