Author's note: Thank you for reviewing, favouriting and following the story. I hope you'll enjoy the next part as well... Let me know.


Shortly after her alarm went off. She saved whatever progress she had made on her USB stick and packed her bag.

On her walk towards the exit she discovered that the building was deserted by now. She passed security on the way out, enquiring whether it would be possible at all to stay at the office late. The answer she got was encouraging.

"Simple as that, let us know if and when you plan to work late and we won't lock you in."

Nina made her way over to her red Mini Cooper that she had parked at the edge of the huge parking lot and drove home. Home was a little apartment in the city centre of Stamford.

As was to be expected, the little red light on her telephone was rhythmically pulsing. She got the USB stick and her cellphone out of her bag before she threw it in a corner. Nina hit a button on the phone and it started playing the missed messages.

"Hi, honey," the voice of her mother cooed through the speakers. Nina, on the way to the kitchen to get a snack and something to drink, rolled her eyes. "How was your first day at work? Everything okay? What are your colleagues like? What about your office?" In the background she heard her father mutter something that sounded like: "Give her a break. She's probably tired." Her mother, clearly disapproving, replied: "Yeah, sure faking disinterest is such a clever idea. That way she's never going call us. You don't seem to be interested in..." Bleep! "End of message!" A robotic sounding female voice announced.

Nina grinned while she was fixing herself a sandwich. "Next message received at 8:15." Her mother again. "Aren't you home yet, honey? Busy first day? Anyway your brother called and wanted to know whether you would come to see us this weekend, so here I was wondering if..." Bleep! "End of message!"

She smiled as she took her first bite from her sandwich and headed over to her working space, a can of soda in her hand. The laptop hummed into life when she pressed the power switch and she mentally prepared herself for a couple of more hours of work. Before she could get to work again however, she would have to give her Mum a call.


It was like a weird experiment. A really weird one. She reckoned people working for companies that sold caffeinated beverages would be delighted to get her hands on her because that way they could find out how long someone could survive on just four hours of sleep, luxurious amounts of coffee, energy drinks and junk food. How she had even managed to come here after the rough two days she'd been through was beyond her. But here she was.

She felt a bit like fraud when she walked up to the security guy and told him: "Hello, my name's Nina Stewart. I should be on the guest list." Though his eyes were flitting over the list of names under his nose, she expected him to look up at her any minute now, shake his head and tell her that she wasn't on it. But nothing of that sort happened. Her lucky streak continued. Just like this morning when she had handed in her script and Mr Dickson had patted her on the shoulder with a satisfied smirk once he had skimmed those pages. Now, instead of a pat on the shoulder, she was rewarded with a backstage pass which read all areas and hung around her neck like a medal.

She inspected it more closely as she walked through the backstage entry. Behind the door a strange world opened up to her. The laminated card slipped through her fingers and dangled forgotten on its chain.

One thing was for sure, the only place she'd ever seen that many people walk around in that little clothes was the beach. Actually it looked like she had stumbled into the male section of that beach. Around all that testosterone and muscle it was hard not to feel out of place.

Of course there was staff too. They wore street clothes, because the alternative would have been ridiculous. Thanks to those street clothes they sort of faded into the background, but there was no doubt they ran that place. She saw people with clipboards, people whispering orders into headsets, people running down corridors. Nina's pulse sped up as she took in the level of activity backstage.

She tried to find an individual that didn't look quite as fidgety as the others and politely asked where she could find Mr Stephen Farrelly. The young man just gave her a curious look like he knew who she was talking about but wasn't quite sure whether he had understood correctly. She amended her mistake. "Sorry, I meant to say Sheamus," she supplied.

That seemed to do the trick. "Down the corridor, take a left, then a right. First door." She nodded and started walking. People brushed past her, someone shouted something down the corridor. A tall man passed her. Wait, wasn't that John Cena? Wow! And how come he was allowed to wear regular clothes while all those other wrestlers were walking around in their swimming trunks?

Nina continued to follow the directions the nice pimple-faced young man had given her. She took a right and shortly after came to a halt because she saw Stuart Bennett walking towards her. As nearly every wrestlers she had met so far, he was tall and therefore towered over her comparatively small height of 5 foot 8. For a moment she internally debated whether she should introduce herself, but seeing as he wore a scowl on his face, it didn't seem like such a good idea, so she continued walking.

As they were about to pass each other, his eyes fell on her T-shirt. A crooked smirk briefly appeared on his face during which the other corner of his mouth miraculously managed to stay down turned. "Nice shirt," he commented and nodded at her.

Inevitably her eyes fell down on her own black T-shirt that proclaimed "Barrett Barrage".

"Thanks," she said simply and added "Good luck tonight!" as he walked past her.

Suddenly feeling a bit flustered, she took off her leather jacket and slung it over her right shoulder. After a few more steps she had reached her destination. The sign next to the door read "Sheamus", but suddenly she was unsure whether she should come knocking at his door just moments before the show started.

The decision was taken out of her hands because the door was ripped open, revealing Stephen on the other side. Instead of a greeting, all she got out was something unintelligent like a "guh" sound. Last time they had met he had been wearing a regular outfit. Now he was sporting a grey T-shirt that read "Brogue kick" in the front, his wrestling trunks and boots and that was it.

"Hey, you made it. Howya doin'?" he said with a smile.

"Your legs a really white," she said dumbly. Again with the awkward situations.

An uncomfortable silence settled upon them. The seconds they stood there in the door frame looking at each other seemed like an eternity to her. Then, quite unexpectedly, Stephen started laughing. It started as an amused chuckled, then turned into booming laughter. Poor Nina was still unsure how to react to the whole situation.

"Oi, relax, would you?" Stephen patted her shoulder. He was wiping at the corner of his eye with the back of his hand as he tried to suppress another fit of laughter for her benefit. It was plain to see how uncomfortable she was with the situation.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for," she apologized.

"Ya mean the shirt?" For some reason his Irish accent was particularly thick right now. "I'd say you're bang on."

She threw him a questioning look, trying to determine whether he was joking or truly offended. He was leaning in the door frame now, his pose very casual, arms crossed over his chest. It didn't look like he was offended, she concluded.

"You'll like the shirt," she said, even managing to conjure a little smirk, now that she was starting to feel a bit more self-assured. "Business in the front, party in the back."

She turned around slowly, showcasing the shirt to him. The front consisted of half of a Wade Barrett T-shirt and the back was half of a Sheamus T-shirt. Her very unique creation, accomplished thanks to the creative use of a pair of scissors, a mad idea and sleep deprivation, was held together on both sides by a couple of safety pins. Because she didn't feel like showing off too much skin, she had opted to wear a black tank top underneath.

"Deadly," he commented.

"Is that good?" she arched an eyebrow.

"Jup." He grinned. "But why did I get the back?"

"Cause someone had to," she shrugged. "And it's no better or worse than the front." Her grin had grown cheeky now because she was very aware of the fact that there was no way he could make a retort without sounding chauvinistic or putting his foot in it.

He seemed to be aware of that too and resigned himself to a shrug. "I won't be up for another half an hour, but I have to meet up with Paul and go over the routine again," he explained. "I'll drop you off at catering. That's where most of the guys hang out anyway. Is that okay?"

She nodded and followed him, admiring the way he seemed to know precisely where to go despite of the chaos around him. True to his earlier words, catering was packed with some of the WWE's most famous faces. As she walked in, she immediately spotted the Big Show, Alberto del Rio and Chris Jericho among the mass of people. They were steering towards the Big Show, also known as the world's largest athlete. If she had felt small before, now she felt positively like a midget.

"Shit, I'm stuck in Brobdingnag," she muttered to herself.

Judging by the slight twitch of Stephen's mouth, he had heard her comment, but because they were so close to the other wrestler now, he pretended like he hadn't for propriety's sake.

"Hey, Paul, meet Nina Stewart. She's the newest addition to the creative team," he introduced her to the other man.

A huge hand was held out to her. The other man was really quite imposing. He seemed to be aware he had that effect on other people. That was probably why he smiled a particularly nice smile at her as she hesitantly shook his hand.

"Pleasure meeting you," she said.

"Likewise, but whatever happened to Mike?" Paul enquired in that deep, rich voice of his.

Nina chewed her bottom lip for a moment, looking between the two men, unsure how to defuse the situation. "He's been assigned to another storyline," she said diplomatically.

Her explanation, which strictly speaking wasn't untrue, seeing as Mike had managed to get in on a storyline centred around the championship title, seemed to satisfy Paul.

"Okay, so I'll meet you back here after my bit with Paul, right?" Stephen asked, looking straight at her, obviously wanting to give her the opportunity to back out in case she felt uncomfortable. But that was unnecessary. She didn't, so she nodded with a smile, looking with unconcealed longing towards the table behind her that was packed with food. Also, to her right there was a makeshift sitting area with steel chairs and a huge plasma screen. That was probably the place the wrestler who were not fighting in the ring would be watching the show. It didn't get anymore authentic than that.

"No worries," she waved him off. "Heaps of food? An almost obscenely big plasma screen? I'll get by."

"I'm sure you'll do. Just remember, don't break anything," he teased, already walking away.

"Same goes for you," she called at his retreating back.

He waved her off, throwing her a parting grin over his shoulder. As the two men walked away she heard Stephen ask: "Hey, Paul, does Brobdingnag ring a bell with you? Kinda sounds familiar..."

With a smile on her face she walked towards catering. She had skipped dinner in favour of finishing her workload and making her little bipolar wrestling fan-shirt. Her mouth started watering as she laid eyes on the tasty pasta dish displayed in front of her, so she loaded her plate with noodles and in passing grabbed a sparkling red apple for dessert.

She sat down at an empty table, not wanting to intrude on other conversations or appear like she was desperate for company. The pasta had been an excellent decision, so the food distracted her from the thought that she didn't know anyone.

A tray was placed next to her and she was forced to look at it. The combination on it was a little odd. Salad and three slices of bacon. She looked up and made eye contact with none other than Chris Jericho.

"Hi, you're with Stephen, right? I figured any woman willing to load her plate with that many carbs is worth meeting. Mind if I sit here?" the line was delivered with a dazzling smile which made it especially hard to say no.

She hastily swallowed down the pasta she had just stuffed into her mouth. "Not at all," she said, still looking in fascination between his plate and his face. "I should warn you though, I have a bad case of verbal diarrhoea..."

"Too bad and here I thought you were nice," he smirked as he sat down. "Any known cures?"

"Nope," she popped the 'p' in that little word, shaking her head regretfully. "I hope you don't mind me asking," actually that was a sentence she used a lot, "all those greens and the bacon, doesn't that sort of defy the purpose?" she finally enquired no longer able to suppress that particular question.

He gave her a smile she had seen on TV before. It was sort of cocky. On other people it might have seemed obnoxious and arrogant, he however made it work, coming across as a charming, yet self-assertive individual.

"It's good to be bad once in a while."

"Sounds like a line from a rock song."

"Maybe it is," he told her spearing a piece of lettuce with his fork. She waited for him to stop chewing, then held out her hand to him.

"Nina Stewart."

He looked down at his t-shirt that spelled his name in huge letters.

"Yeah, I know," she smiled. "And hey, you get to wear pants," she added in an afterthought. "Not wrestling tonight?"

If he thought her comment to be annoying, he didn't show it. In fact he even grinned at her. "Highlight reel," he explained. "Not up for another 15 minutes."

"Wow! I couldn't be eating 15 minutes before I go on stage," she said, pretty much blown away by his total lack of nerves.

"I've been in this business for a while," he winked at you. "You? Upcoming diva? Writer? Big Red's girlfriend?"

"One of the above is actually correct..." She left it up to him to figure out which.

"The verbal diarrhoea thing has me thinking writer," he grinned smirking at her as if she had already told him he was right.

She never got around to verifying his suspicion. They both looked up in unison as another man interrupted their conversation by sitting down across from them. "Hey, Chris, I didn't know it was "Bring-your-kids-to-work-day"," Mike Mizanin teased as slid into a chair across the table.

"What makes you think I'm his daughter?" Nina asked the man with an incredulous expression on her face.

"I don't know," the Miz shrugged, inspecting his fingernails. "You kind of look like him. Plus, you sort of give off that vibe. Similar hair, rock star attitude... A bit too pale maybe. And less full of yourself. So you're his daughter, right?"

"Really?" she asked in disbelief, apparently unaware she was stealing on of the Miz's most used lines.

"Really," Mike smiled back.

"I would be very glad if my Dad was that cool...," she started which Chris commented with a mocking "Awww!" from the side. "Don't get me wrong, I love my dad...," another "Awww!" now from Mike which she acquitted with a frown. "But Chris would have had to be very and I mean VERY young to have me."

Mike smiled. "Yeah, right," the way he said those words made clear that the topic wasn't off the table yet.

Chris sighed in resignation and pushed the tray away from himself. He would have loved to get back at Mike for his stupid joke, but it was time to go. "Thanks for jumping to my defence against that jackass here," Jericho told her with a friendly smile, already standing up. The ill-humoured, yet affectionate way he said the word 'jackass' implied a typical male friendship. "I gotta run. Real nice talking to you, Nina. Later, Mizanin."

"Later," Mike nodded and smiled, holding up his hand in salute. As he saw Alberto Rodriguez walk past their table, however, he grasped the opportunity to get in a parting shot before Chris was out of hearing range. "Hey, Bertie, have you met, Jericho's daughter?"


The match against Paul had gone well. Quite predictably it had been physically taxing, after all he had once again heaved his partner's considerable weight across the ring. After having signed a couple of autographs and taken a nice hot shower, it occurred to Stephen he had a guest to take care of.

He was actually curious to see what Nina had been up to in his absence. He found her sitting in the lounge chatting with Alberto, Mike and Chris. Stuart Bennett was on the other side of the room, staring down at a plate of food ill-humouredly. He sometimes got a little to deep in character, Stephen reckoned and clap him lightly on the shoulder to get his attention.

"What's got your knickers in a twist, mate?" he addressed him, taking in the scowl on Stuart's face.

"It's that little chatterbox over there if you must know. I doubt she ever stops talking long enough to catch a breath," he pointed his fork in Nina's direction accusingly.

"Have you talked to her yet?" Stephen asked with a grin, already able to see where this conversation was heading.

"No, any reason I should?" Stu asked, looking up at him in wonder.

"Nina's new. Actually she's supposed to work as a writer for both of us from now on," Stephen told him calmly, taking a perverse pleasure in delivering that particular piece of news.

"Bugger me," the Brit swore next to him which made Stephen grin in amusement. "How's a bird like her supposed to write for guys like us, Farrelly?" Actually that was a very good question. As a matter of fact it was so good it had been running through his head ever since he met her.

"Well, she's nice enough if that helps...," he tried to appease Stuart and partially himself. "Besides, she wouldn't have gotten the job if she wasn't any good at it."

"Yeah, but have you read any of her stuff yet?"

Stephen shook his head. "No, but we are going to get the new scripts in the next couple of days."

"You wanna wait that long?"

"No," Stephen replied begrudgingly.

"Damn right," Stuart agreed. Frankly Stephen hadn't expected the Brit to agree so readily with him on anything. It wasn't like they hated each other, it was just that they were two very opposite ends of the spectrum character-wise. Stephen saw himself as outgoing and easy to get along with, whereas Stuart had a more closed of character. When he communicated, there was always a purpose behind it. He didn't just talk in order to socialise or pass the time.

"So what do you propose?" Stephen asked, stroking his beard with his right hand pensively.

"I say we put her to the test ourselves," Stu suggested, getting up from his seat, his meal for now forgotten.

"Test?" Stephen watched the group across the room that was merrily talking and laughing. Laughing... Now there was a thought. "Come on, Bennett," he slapped the other man on the shoulder companionably, "I might have an idea."

They made their way over to the others. As Mike Mizanin saw Stephen approaching, he cheerfully greeted him with the words: "Have you already met Jericho's daughter?" For a second Stephen was perplexed. Apparently Mike had finally snapped. Chris had an adult daughter? That just didn't seem right. His kids were barley older than ten, right?

Realizing that his friend still hadn't gotten the joke, Mike pointed at Nina, who was sitting next to Jericho. Stephen suddenly understood what the other wrestler was talking about. There were certain similarities. Like for instance they both wore very similar haircuts and dressed like wannabe rock stars, but that was where the similarities ended, he supposed.

"Met Jericho's daughter?" he quirked his eyebrow with a smirk. "Actually I invited her here."

Mike's eyes grew large. He shot up from his seat, raising his hand to claim everyone's attention. "Did you all know that Jericho's daughter is dating Red?"

His remark got him a uni-vocal "Shut it, Mizanin!" from both Stephen and Chris. Mike, however, wasn't bothered by their disapproval, he laughed and along with him most of the group. Nina shrugged her shoulder at Stephen, pointing at Mike as she exaggeratedly mouthed the words "He's crazy". He nodded at her and gave her a thumbs-up. She threw him an answering grin and got up to continue their conversation in a more conventional manner. Less miming, more actual talking.

"Good fight," she complimented him when she finally stood next to him. "You too of course," she addressed Stuart Bennett in a less self-assertive way.

Stephen opened his mouth to thank her, but the other man beat him to it, so he just snapped it shut and listened. "Thanks. The name's Stuart Bennett by the way," he held out his hand to her.

"Nina Stewart. I'm the newest addition to the creative team. I'll be writing for you and Stephen from now on."

Stuart acknowledged her words with a nod.

"Why don't we sit down?" Stephen suggested, dragging three chairs over to where the others were sitting. They took a seat and were soon included in the group's conversation again.

"Hey, Stuart, nice to have you over here for a change," Alberto remarked.

"Yeah, how come? Special occasion?" Chris asked.

Before the guys could ask any more questions regarding Stuart's sudden urge to socialise, Stephen decided to set his plan into motion. "Now that we've got Stuart here among us, remember our game from last SummerSlam, fellas?"

"Make Stu laugh?" Alberto supplied with a grin.

"How high was the jackpot anyway?" Chris asked, showing only mild interest in the idea.

"100 dollars," Stu announced darkly, making everyone look at him.

"Wanna give it a go, Nina?" Stephen suggested.

"I don't know," she hesitated.

"Come on, I thought you writers were such an insightful bunch," Stephen tried to encourage her.

"Yeah, humour us. We're curious to see what you can do," Stuart added.

Nina's eyes narrowed as she looked between her two charges. Whether they were narrowed in suspicion or disapproval remained unclear. She finally nodded. The look on her face changed from relaxed, to determined and finally settled on focused. "Any rules I should be aware of?" she asked, scooting to the edge of her seat.

"No rules, except it has to be intentional, otherwise it doesn't count," Stephen informed her.

"How long have I got?"

"One hour," Stuart informed her, thinking that that was a reasonable amount of time to get the job done.

The conversation moved on, but from now on it did without Nina's participation. She had grown quiet and her eyes were fixed on Stuart. She reminded Stephen of those animal explorers who spent hours spying on certain animals, hidden behind a hedge with a pair of spy glasses pressed to their faces. He wondered whether being under such close scrutiny made Stuart uncomfortable. If it did, he didn't show it.

"So Stuart, you're from the North, right?" she suddenly asked, leaning forward in her seat.

"Yes," came Stuart's rather monosyllabic and predictable answer.

"How could you tell?" Stephen asked.

"I lived long enough in London to spot a Northern accent when I hear one," she told him matter-of-factly. Apparently something did irritate her, because he had gotten to know her as quirky, bubbly and energetic to be point of being bouncy, whereas now she had sort of retreated into herself.

The interrogation continued. Stephen was reminded of a tennis match. Nina fired her questions at Stuart who mostly replied to them with one-word-answers.

"Soccer fan?"

"Yes."

"Doctor Who?"

"TV show for kids," Stuart scoffed.

"Top Gear?"

"Brilliant." There was something close to a smirk on Stuart's face as he said that.

"Python?"

"Too silly."

"Gervais."

"Just right."

The rest of the group had by now fallen silent and started to observe Nina's and Stuart's odd way of making conversation with something akin to morbid fascination.

Chris suddenly interrupted Nina's rather aggressive and innovative approach to getting to know Stuart by asking her a question himself. "Remember this one scene from Skyfall where Bond is questioned by some shrink?"

Nina turned her head and quirked her eyebrow at him. "So Stuart is Bond and I'm the shrink?"

"No, Stuart isn't Bond. If anyone gets to be Bond, it's me," Chris flashed her a toothy and very cocky grin.

"You're American," Nina dead-panned and Chris' face fell. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Stuart's mouth twitch.

"Actually I'm an American born Canadian," he pointed her index finger at her with a mock stern expression. "Remember that."

"I will... Wow, you guys, I've suddenly realized something! I guess that makes me half Canadian. Right, Daddy?" She threw him a cheeky smile. "That finally explains why I like ice hockey so much... That and the fact that I enjoy seeing the occasional tooth fly over the ice."

"Ah, violent tendencies... Careful! Blood lust in a girl is not that attractive," Mike scolded her with an amused smirk on his face.

"So if I went to 'Holiday on Ice' that would make me more attractive?" Nina asked.

"Don't answer that, Mike, it's a trap," Alberto advised.

"Yeah, like 'Do those pants make me look fat?'," Chris supplied.

"Or 'Do you think I've put on some weight?'" Stephen added with a grin.

"Or the question of whether it's better to have your logo on the front of a girl's T-Shirt or the back?" she looked at Stephen pointedly.

"Come on Nina, don't be like that. There is no way a man can answer those questions without getting himself into trouble," Alberto grinned at Nina.

Nina, however, had spotted her opening and was determined to make the most of it. If the way she was grinning was any indication, she took great pleasure in saying the next words. "Actually there are some answers to those questions, gentlemen. They will of course get you in trouble, but sometimes a good laugh is worth all the trouble in the world," she paused for effect.

"So let's hear those answers," Stuart challenged her.

There was a dangerous sparkle in her eyes. "Okay, here goes: 'Yes, those pants make you look fat, dear. You'd better shop at the men's department from now on. They might have something in your size.' " The men were staring at her incredulously.

"Number 2: 'You're right, you've put on some weight, darling. Ever wondered why I keep humming 'Baby's Got Back'?" Chris was laughing softly and Stuart was faking a cough, so he wouldn't erupt into laughter. Nina's grin broadened and assumed gazillion-watt qualities now that she turned her head to look at Stephen. She actually possessed the cheek to flutter her eyelashes at him before she spoke.

"But the last one's my favourite. 'Sorry, the back's worse than the front, because I'm a breast man. Don't take away the only decent excuse I have to look at them.' "

Stuart's barking laughter burst into the embarrassed silence that followed her last remark and mingled with Mike's and Chris' suppressed chuckles that were slightly muffed because they wouldn't dare to openly laugh at Stephen's expense.

The latter had jumped up from his seat with a disgruntled "What?!", trying to cover up the fact that he was mortified to the bone by her remark.

To be fair to Nina, upon seeing his reaction, her smirk vanished and turned into a look of genuine concern. Despite appearing calm on the outside, internally she was praying she hadn't misjudged Stephen. Hopefully his sense of humour was as well developed as she thought. Quite anxiously she watched the movements of his blue eyes which were sparkling in irritation. They settled momentarily on her face, then inevitably focused on Stuart who was still guffawing and wiping the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand.

She stood up and placed herself in front of him. She stretched out her hand, smiling at him. "I'm sorry, Stephen," she said, "I really am, but I think you owe me 100 dollars."

He looked down at her, his face still flushed with anger. They didn't talk to each other, but something transpired between them nevertheless that was merely conveyed by looks and body language. Her expression was serious, if not a little embarrassed as well. The tips of her ears glowed in a pinkish hue. She was blushing which indicated that she was not as brazen as she had wanted to appear. Her hand hesitantly touched his left arm and gave it a brief squeeze before she let it drop again. For some reason he could tell that her brave facade was seconds away from getting its first cracks or even crumbling. Even though he was still slightly disgruntled, he decided to not embark on the warpath this time.

"We can make it 80 dollars if you want?" She shot him a shy smile, obviously desperate to salvage the situation.

The left corner of his mouth curled into a crooked smirk as he stroked his beard and looked down at her in amusement. "Stuart's laughed his cacks off, so I gotta compliment you on job well done. However there's still one thing..." he intentionally let her stew a bit there.

"What?" she asked anxiously.

"You should turn around your T-shirt now."

She laughed at his remark and actually tugged a little at he top. "So we're good then?"

"Yeah, we're good. No worries," he reassured her.