Author's note: Thank you, you awesome people for sticking with me through this ever-growing story! You rock!
Just a quick shout-out to ThatGirl54 - Thank you for your kind words. I really appreciated hearing from you. I got your message first thing when I came back home from Italy and it was a very nice welcome-home-present.
"You're an idiot, Miz. It's like you just started the countdown on a nuclear bomb. Once he gets his hands on Mike what do you think he will do?"
"Beat the shit out of him?" the Miz supplied with a sheepish grin.
Chris nodded and started moving in the direction Stephen had disappeared. "Get Stu and then find me! The two of us alone won't be enough to restrain him physically. And for God's sake hurry!" For once there was something other than cool nonchalance in Chris' voice. He was far from being nonchalant. He was worried. "Go!" Jericho screamed at the younger man and both of them set in motion.
Jericho ran down the corridor of the arena, praying he would be fast enough to catch up with Stephen. The backstage area was a labyrinth. It was difficult to find your way around it. When he rounded the next corner, his feet briefly skittering over the linoleum floor, he spotted the Irishman's retreating back.
Like nearly everyone Chris had enjoyed watching cartoons as a child. For some reason now he had the oddest flashback to those scenes when two pillars of smoke shot out of the tomato-red head of an enraged cartoon character. Probably because Stephen was just as mad.
Almost simultaneously they both spotted Mike Spencer, Stephen's former writer, heading towards the exit of the arena. Stephen let out a roar and started charging down the hallway like a raging bull. Mike just stood there for a moment with a deer in the headlights expression before he started running like the devil incarnate was chasing him.
Jericho sprinted forward and when he was close enough, launched himself at Stephen's back trying to hold him back. It was a comical image: the slightly smaller blonde man hanging from the back of the taller redhead. Despite Jericho's daring show of courage, the effort wasn't quite enough. All it did was slow the Irishman down and piss him off. "Let go of me!" Stephen roared.
Jericho just shook his head. He knew he was seconds away from being slammed into a hard concrete wall back first. Lucky for him that was when the cavalry, in the form of Stuart and Mizanin, arrived. Three people were finally enough to restrain Stephen. Mike had stopped running and turned around to watch the spectacle with something akin to morbid fascination.
"Mike Spencer, you vile coward! Come on over here and face me like a bloody man!" Stephen shouted. For some reason he managed to still drag the three men forward, throwing his entire weight against their hold. "Get the fuck off me! I'm going to beat the crap out of that bloody wanker!"
"Whoa!" Miz exclaimed and planted his feet a bit firmer into the ground to hold back the raging Irishman.
Stuart was the same height as Stephen. His strategy was to position himself in front of the other man and scream in his face. "Oooooiiiii!" That not all too subtle move finally managed to claim Stephen's attention, though only for a brief moment.
"Now you listen, mate. I get that you want to bust that bloke's noggin open, but he's not worth it. Just think for a second. Do you really want to have a lawsuit on your hands?"
Stephen was staring past him, his eyes burning holes into Mike's face. Stuart was daring enough to break the eye contact between the two men again by stepping into Stephen's line of vision. The Irishman glared at him in irritation. "What's it gonna be, Farrelly? Jail time or time with your girl? Think hard."
A growl escaped Stephen's lips. But it was one of defeat.
"You can let go of him now," Stuart told Jericho and Mizanin. The two men did, but still tensed as Stephen turned to his right and kicked at the transport box that stood there with all his might. It rattled and hit the wall behind it with a loud and unpleasant crunch as those metal edges buried themselves briefly in the concrete wall. Mike was clever enough to quickly scurry out of the exit. Stephen sacked down on the transport box he had just used as a football to release his anger in a way that was not harmful to any other living being. He was still breathing heavily. His eyes were unfocused and empty like those of a madman.
"Whoa! That was a close call," Miz remarked.
"No shit, Sherlock," Chris remarked sarcastically, still slightly out of breath from his sprint after Stephen and his football-star-worthy-tackle.
"Anyone wants to fucking explain to me what the bleeding hell's just happened?!" Stuart told them.
"I'm not sure I want to tell you in front of him," Miz nudged his head in Stephen's general direction. "He looks about ready to bash anyone's head in."
"Póg mo thón, Mizanin," Stephen growled and made all three men look at him.
"It speaks," Mizanin observed shrewdly. "But it speaks in tongues."
"Shut your bleeding gob, Miz!" Stuart admonished.
"Seconded," Jericho approved with a grin.
"So?" Stuart glanced around.
Jericho decided to speak up. Contrary to the Miz, he was able to hold his tongue in check and be diplomatic if need be. "I guess Mike was trying to spread some rumors about Nina. Miz never got as far as telling me the whole thing..."
Stuart's gaze inevitably landed on Mizanin again. "Tell us."
"Well," the Miz started, looking insecure for the first time since they'd known him, "he basically said Nina was sleeping around. After having gone through you guys," he looked at Stuart and Stephen, "she was going to work her way through the whole roster."
Stuart instinctively laid a hand on Stephen's shoulder, who was about to jump to his feet again. "No, you stay where you are," he admonished. There was ice cold rage in his eyes now too. Stuart's rage however was of a different variety than Stephen's. He didn't go overboard. He started plotting. After all, his good name had been disgraced too.
Physical violence would not resolve the issue. They would have to take different measures because this was a different sort of game. This was the real world, not one of the company's storylines. In the real world things weren't resolved by getting in the ring together. If an injustice befell you, which clearly had happened to Stuart, Stephen and above all, Nina, there were legal measures you could take. Right, legal measures that sounded like a plan! Stuart grinned.
"Oi, Farrelly, cheer up, mate! I think I've got an idea about what we're going to do," he slapped the man his hand on his shoulder, his enthusiastic tone and the gesture immediately claiming his attention, "I don't know about you, but I feel deeply offended and outraged," the evil glint in Stuart's eyes could have sent armies running screaming in the other direction. "I think I will have to get in the phone with my lawyer. What about you?"
Stephen's scowl slowly turned into a malicious grin that almost rivaled the one of Stuart's face. The Brit continued to speak, now directing his attention on the Miz. "Slander is a serious offense. After all we have enough witnesses. Right, Mizanin?"
The younger man let out an unnerved groan. "This is so not awesome. I think I'm gonna puke."
She had an appointment at Dickson's office at nine o'clock. She had received an email yesterday evening that requested her presence there in cool, professional and very impersonal words. There was no doubt in her mind that this meeting wasn't good news, so she had been nervously shooting glances over her shoulder all morning.
Her office was on the same floor as Dickson's and the WWE building was very modern, which meant it was light-flooded, there were lots of windows and most of the doors were partially see-through. When she saw two large, muscular men in suits breeze past her office Nina jumped right to her feet. It was not only their stature which had claimed her attention. It was the fact that she thought she had recognized Stephen and Stuart. Of course that was rather stupid, because right now they were supposed to be several hundred miles away preparing for yet another show. Nevertheless she decided to risk a peek outside her door.
Despite the two men's unusual attire, she recognized them immediately. "Stephen! Stuart!" she called out in her surprise. Both men froze. There seemed to be some sort of hushed exchange between them, which she wasn't able to catch because they stood with their backs facing to her. She just managed to overhear the end of it. "You haven't called her, Farrelly? You'd better go and explain this."
Stephen approached her with an expression on his face that was disquieting because it was very serious and laced with guilt. She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. Her posture was stiff, her back rigid and her jaw set tightly when he came to stand in front of her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked without any further ado. No gentle words of greeting. They got straight to business right away.
He had been dreading this moment ever since the happenings of the previous evening because he knew she would not approve of what he and Stuart were trying to do, she would see it as an unnecessary interference in her affairs. For a moment he pondered on what to say and came up with nothing diplomatic or smart that would make things easier for both of them, so he just went with what popped in his head first.
"We're here because we're going to sue Mike Spencer," he told her looking down at the tips of his shiny shoes almost ashamedly.
"Sue Mike?" Precisely in the moment she asked that question he saw something behind her eyes click. There was no doubt in his mind she had already partially figured out what was going on. Did that mean he still needed to answer her question? Seconds grew into a whole minute and behind him Stuart was clearing his throat impatiently. Apparently she did expect him to answer her question.
"Yes, sue him," he confirmed.
"I got that the first time. Why?"
He shifted on his feet. "He turned up yesterday at the arena after the show and started spreading rumors about you backstage." Her eyes flashed. He could tell she was angry but she tried to suppress that anger. "Continue," she just said. He wasn't sure that was wise, but it made no sense to stop now. "He went around telling people that you had slept with both Stuart and I and were going to work your way through the entire roster to climb up the career ladder."
Now that he had told her, he looked at her, waiting anxiously for her reaction. He waited for a spectacular explosion, for screams, for a red light flickering behind her pupils, rotating heads, little puffs of smoke coming from her nostrils... Instead her reaction was comparatively meek.
"That asshole!" Nina muttered quietly. Currently her eyes were trained on the floor. He could tell her anger had been somewhat quenched by pensiveness. Her eyes had a strange faraway look to them as they stared at the carpet. Suddenly they settled on him again. Apparently she had come to some kind of conclusion. "Well, he's at least right about the two of us. We did sleep together. If you get a lawyer involved, you will have to tell him about us," she pointed out in a strangely neutral tone of voice.
"Yes, I guess I would have to," he said. That only occurred to him now. Despite the fact that he had been lying awake the better part of last night to make sense of this situation, his mind had been too clouded by his rage to think of every detail, even the important ones.
What angered him more than anything was how Mike could go around saying things like that about Nina. She was clever, outgoing, funny... What on earth had she ever done to merit such treatment? If there was one thing he absolutely hated, it was most definitely bullies. He despised them; ever since school. He had been picked on a lot as a child. Perhaps it was because of those negative childhood experiences that he hated the sort of people who picked on others to feel better about themselves. Maybe that was also why he felt like he had to protect her.
When he looked at her, he couldn't help but get angry again. Some of that anger was directed at Mike, some of it against himself because he hadn't been able to see what was going on and protect her from it. It was paradoxical, because he couldn't have done anything, but nevertheless he felt guilty. There was a look on her face that nearly killed him. It was one he would never be able to forget. She was deeply disappointed in him.
"And you thought it would be a good thing to just come breezing in here and do this? What the hell were you thinking? Why didn't you call me to talk this over?"
"Look, I know I should have called," he admitted. He was fully aware his behavior wasn't very thoughtful, but all he had wanted to do was help her out. After all, suing Mike would clear her name. "But it only happened last night," he tried to justify his actions, "And you should have seen me then. I was in no state to call. I was so pissed off I snapped. It needed three men to restrain me: Chris, Stuart and the Miz. If it weren't for them, I would have done something incredibly daft, like beating Mike into a bloody pulp."
It was too much. She felt overwhelmed. One minute everything had been alright, the next things went downhill rapidly. All she wanted to do right now, was run away and never ever look back. But running was no solution in real life. It sure sounded tempting sometimes, but it wasn't an option. "Do you really think playing the knight in shining armor will solve the problem?" she asked. "I might as well start stitching a big red "A" to all my clothes now. This rumor is never going to go away, no matter how many times we sue Mike, no matter how untrue it may be."
He had not been prepared for her being angry at him for trying to protect her. He just stood there unable to say anything as she walked past him with the words. "I'll come with you." Her demeanor was all cool and business-like. There was no spark of warmth, no friendliness underneath. He didn't like what he saw or what was happening, but there was nothing he could do about it now.
"Where were you going to take this? McMahon or Dickson?" she asked both men after she had nodded at Stuart in salute. She was trying to appear calm and collected, but on the inside she was barely keeping it together. She was angry, disappointed, sad... Christ, she was feeling a whole lot of things she didn't even have a name for. If fate was merciful, the name the guys would now tell her would be Dickson, because she had never even talked to McMahon face to face. Yes, she had seen him and been in the same room with him, but she had never had one single conversation with him and actually she'd prefer it stayed that way, because frankly, she was intimidated by the man.
Of course the answer she received was as to be expected: McMahon. Fate was a cruel mistress after all.
"Stephen! Stuart! Ms. Stewart! To what do I owe this pleasure?" McMahon sonorous voice asked loudly. He quickly rounded his desk to shake their hands. Like everyone else inside this room he was towering over Nina, who felt even more like she didn't belong because obviously
she didn't meet the height standards.
"We had a rather unpleasant run-in with Mike Spencer yesterday evening at the arena, sir. We're thinking about pressing charges against him for slander," Stuart informed his boss in a carefully neutral voice. He wasn't one to mince around matters. Instead of making small talk first he preferred to get straight to the heart of the matter. "But we wanted to come to you before we did anything. Maybe you see another way this can be resolved."
McMahon frowned. "Slander? You want to elaborate on that, son?"
Stuart opened his mouth to say something in reply, but Nina beat him to it. Quite inevitably everybody's eyes were on her. "Mike's has had something against me ever since I started working here. After Wrestlemania he already tired something similar. He told everybody Stephen and I had hooked up in the men's. Now he's just become more radical. He tells people I sleep around to make up for my lack of talent."
McMahon's gave her a long appraising look. No doubt he was trying to make sense of her before he continued this conversation. "So are you sleeping around?" The question was brutal and to the point and she felt Stephen behind her tense, but before he could open his stupid mouth and say something even more stupid to defend her honor, Nina decided to speak for herself.
"No, of course not. I've got certain standards. Casual sex is nothing that interests me. There have to be a lot of woman who see things my way. After all vibrators are still highly in demand."
Her words were crude and she could see McMahon was surprised to hear them coming from a woman's mouth. But surprisingly he also seemed to find them amusing. He smiled.
"You're quite outspoken...," he remarked.
"Mr. McMahon, with all due respect, most of your employees are men, so in order for a woman to survive in this industry she has to be somewhat outspoken," she told him matter-of-factly, appearing completely calm and collected on the outside, even though her hands were cold and sweaty and her knees were shaking.
"How come that despite that I have a feeling though that there is something more you're not telling me?" Mr. McMahon was a clever man. You didn't get to be the boss of a multimillion dollar industry for nothing.
Stuart made a declining hand gesture and stepped back. This wasn't his story to tell.
"Do you want to or should I?" Stephen asked Nina. She had not looked at him once ever since they entered the room, which wasn't a good sign.
"I'll do it," told him, without meeting his eyes. "Mr. McMahon, you're right I neglected to tell you about one particular thing because it's a private matter. He's right about Stephen and I..." she paused. Perhaps she was thinking about what their current relationship status was. Stephen wasn't too sure about that as well. Given the fact that she had vastly ignored him ever since he had broken the bad news to her, it was at present unclear to Stephen whether their relationship still existed or not. "We have been seeing each other outside of work."
