Chapter 15

Echoing throughout the arena was a sudden scream from the fans as the sounds of glass shattering permeated the building. Several minutes later, the Undertaker's theme music rumbled, sending yet another scream through the audience. The main event had arrived and Geneva would be getting another patient most definitely.

Question was: who would it be?

Steve narrowed his icy eyes, staring across the ring as his on and off-screen enemy just stood there, an almost indifferent look on the Taker's face. Well, he was fixing to change that into one of pain.

After fixing another dislocated shoulder, Geneva decided it was time to take a break as she cleaned her hands and walked out of the office. Thankfully, it wasn't that crowded, though she still hadn't seen hide nor hair of her Uncle. It wasn't that crowded now that the show was nearly over. She walked down the hallway, peaking around corners, trying to find the cafeteria and arched an eyebrow.

"Damn..." Geneva cursed, rounding another corner, seeing it was a darker one than the rest and immediately turned back around hoping she could find her way back to her office. All she wanted was a damn water!

"Who the hell are you?" Demanded a deep voice from behind the petite woman.

A tall, African-American man with strange symbols painted on his chest stepped out before her. He stared down at her, behind him, flanking two more men, both wearing black. One with another strange symbol appearing carved into his forehead.

"You can't be here lady. This is the Undertaker's corridor."

"She's Austin's doctor." The man with the carved forehead spoke up quietly, his eyes glinting almost feverishly as he stared at her.

"No, I am the new on-road physician for the World Wrestling Federation and I work for Vince McMahon." Geneva corrected them, crossing her arms in front of her chest, and raised an eyebrow at their symbols. "Okay, I didn't know this was kindergarten. Those look ridiculous on you." She commented, shaking her head, seeing three men surrounding her and wondered briefly if they even worked for this company. "Look, I don't know who you are or what you want, but I'm looking for the cafeteria. Can one of you help me out before I die of thirst?" There was no fear in her ocean blue eyes whatsoever, just pure curiosity and fatigue.

"I'll show her."

Farooq arched an eyebrow, staring down at Mideon. "No. You won't. We need to be ready for Taker's signal." He grunted, turning his back on the doctor altogether. "Cafeteria is down this way, keep following the red line on the floor." He said without turning back, guiding the others in the opposite direction.

"Thank you." Geneva replied, her eyes narrowed slightly, confusion registering on her face.

What did they mean this was Undertaker's corridor? A private locker room wasn't enough for the man? Geneva didn't care, walking away from them and looked down at the floor where the red line began. So she wasn't that far off.

Geneva sighed with relief when she finally found it and went straight for the water machine, pulling a dollar out of her pocket. Slipping it into the machine, Geneva wasn't able to get those three men out of her mind. They sounded as though they were followers of some sort to Undertaker, which confused Geneva more.

Since when did Undertaker have followers?

Gathered around a monitor in the cafeteria was half the roster, all watching the fight between Taker and Stone Cold Steve Austin. "Shit! Did you see that?" One of them yelled. Then cursing followed. "The damn Ministry! Hell, too bad for Steve…"

Steve was gesturing the Ministry on. "C'mon son, fight your own battles." He snarled at Taker.

"This isn't a battle, Austin." Taker rumbled evilly. "It's genocide."

Things had changed in the WWF, that much Geneva gathered, as she headed over to the monitor to watch it with the other Superstars. Geneva briefly wondered what she'd gotten herself into and felt her eyes widening in shock by what she saw, covering her mouth with her hand. It was like watching a horrific car accident happening and, no matter how hard she tried, Geneva could not pull her eyes from the monitor, not even when Steve was cracked with a baseball bat upside the head.

'Oh my god! Someone has to help him! He's bleeding!' Her mind screamed, ignoring the people around her and kept her eyes focused on the monitor.

Jeff Hardy, looking much better, turned to glance at her. Seeing the obvious concern on her face, he offered a reassuring smile. "Hey, it's okay. They know better than to actually hurt each other seriously." Well they knew better, but generally these two didn't follow the rules so to speak.

In the ring, Taker gestured his Ministry forward, staring down at Austin. He held out his hand, a coarse rope being placed in his palm almost immediately.

"Oh shit..."

Geneva felt sick to her stomach and actually backed away from the monitor, her eyes widened and couldn't believe nobody was stopping this. Granted, she remembered being on the road back in 1997 with Uncle Mick going through tables and being hit with steel chairs, but this was too much. What the Hell was going on?

Not able to handle seeing anymore, Geneva ran out of the cafeteria with her water, heading back to the office. What the hell kind of company was this? They were allowing a man to hang someone in the middle of the damn ring! This company had gotten edgier, Geneva surmised appallingly, and looked up when Larry walked through the door.

"I know." She whispered before he could open his mouth, trying to control her emotions.

Larry nodded grimly. "Be ready."

Steve snapped two seconds before the noose was placed around his throat. He grabbed the loop and jerked, sending Taker flying head over heels. Before anyone could stop him, he started tossing the Ministry morons out of the ring, collapsing against the ropes when they began their retreat. He could feel a gash bleeding just over his eye and groaned, knowing a trip to the trainer's room –Doc- was in order.

Geneva whatever she could in the office; cleaning, pacing, and just trying to keep her mind off of what she witnessed on the monitor in the cafeteria. Her door hit the wall forcefully, causing her to jump out of her skin and whipped around with wide eyes. Steve stood there with a bloody gash over his right eye, blood slowly gushing from it.

"Jesus." She whispered, rushing over to him as he stumbled into her, already snapping on a pair of gloves and laid him down on her table, shaking her head.

"Hey Doc." Steve greeted, turning his head to spit out some blood that had seeped into his mouth. "How's your first night goin'?" He tried to smile at her and stopped, realizing the blood would have stained his teeth, making it a gruesome gesture. "Sorry 'bout earlier, didn't know ya were Foley's niece, honey…"

"That's alright." Geneva whispered soothingly, cleaning the wound over his eye and sighed heavily, shaking her head. "Just relax, Steve. You have a concussion." She'd checked his pupils and tossed away a huge cue tip before grabbing a needle and stitches, setting her flashlight down. "You know the drill."

Steve already knew that, he'd been working on a concussion for a while now. Almost every week, Taker gave him a new one. Of course, if the Deadman ever grew a set and could face him man to man, things would be different. As long as the bastard had his Ministry, it never would be that way though, his teeth clenching.

"I hate needles…" He grunted, eyeballing the contraption in the Doc's hand.

"I can't believe nobody came out to help you…"

Growling, Geneva tossed the needle in the sink and gripped it with her hands, needing a minute to calm down. Deep down, it bothered her to watch Taker be so…barbaric in the ring to Steve and she didn't understand why. What had changed him in the past two years? She finally picked the needle back up and loaded it with numbing solution, placing her hand on his face.

"Hold still." She ordered, sinking the needle into his gash and pulled back, starting the stitches.

Steve frowned, staring up at her incredulously. "Honey, this is wrestling. Most of it is fake, but accidents happen. It's sports entertainment, but it's still a sport." He loved wrestling and would defend it to his dying day. "You should know since you worked here once before..."

Geneva shook her head, frowning. "Back then it was way different and less barbaric." She muttered, continuing her work on Steve's eyebrow, where the laceration was.

Refusing to admit this to anyone except herself, Geneva had watched the 'I Quit' match between Uncle Mick and Dwayne at the beginning of the year and vomited at all the chair shots he sustained. It was possibly the most brutal, ferocious match she'd ever seen him in and that included the Hell In A Cell match he had in mid-1998 with Undertaker. She watched that match too, immediately calling Colette as soon as Uncle Mick had been tossed off the roof of the cell. Never had she witnessed something so horrifying and Geneva felt helpless since she was stuck in Seattle instead of in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where the King of the Ring pay-per-view was held.

"You look deep in thought, honey." Steve observed, biting back a wince when she began slipping the stitches in his skin. "You can talk to me, Doc."

"I just…I don't understand how you or my Uncle does this for a living…" She finally whispered, not trusting her voice at the moment and looked away to blink back tears, grabbing a different instrument.

Steve wasn't about to tell her he didn't usually get the hell knocked out of him with inanimate objects until Taker and him started feuding outside the ring as well as inside. "I'm crazy, I admit it honey, but I love my job." He inhaled softly, beginning to get jittery. "So Doc, how 'bout a cup of coffee or somethin' after this? You know, to help keep me awake." He smiled teasingly at her, changing the subject.

She frowned back at him, seeing how jittery he was, and knew he had to calm down as she checked his heart rate. "Steve, look at me. Look at me." Geneva ordered gently, taking his face in her hands, staring into his deep blue eyes. Almost instantly, the jitters slowly stopped as she ran her hand up and down his arm, smiling. "That's it, relax." She coaxed softly, quietly, knowing she had to keep him awake, but that didn't mean he couldn't relax and started the stitches again.

"Sorry, Doc." He said apologetically. "I just really hate bein' patched up, no offense. Hospitals and usually doctors just aren't my thing. You're the exception, of course." Steve became acutely aware he was still in just his wrestling trunks, when she ran her hand down his bare arm, and mentally began thinking of every non-sexual thing that he possibly could.

Where in the blue hell had THAT come from?

"Believe it or not, I hear that a lot." Geneva chuckled, rolling a chair over and sat down as she continued working on him, taking her time, not wanting him to leave yet. "Steve, I know it was you who went to Mr. McMahon about me. Why?" She asked, looking at his wound, her voice full of curiosity, no anger evident.

He chuckled, looking almost like a little boy as he shot Geneva a sheepish look. "Because I liked you." He said simply, studying her face inquisitively. "You did such a good job, you made me feel at ease in a hospital of ALL places. I figured you could do a great job here. I guess what I didn't figure on was you bein' upset by what we do."

"It's not that I'm upset, I should be used to it given who my Uncle is. I'll get used to it again, it's just been a minute since I've been in this type of environment." She replied, patting his arm reassuringly and finished the stitches, tossing the bloody gloves in the garbage. "My eyes nearly fell out of my head when I got the offer over my answering machine. Though I must admit, I didn't know you were serious when you offered it to me at the hospital before you left." She turned back around and faced him, a small smirk on her face, remembering his vacation comment.

"Of course I was serious! I'm a very serious man, Doc, or didn't you notice?" Steve retorted in a stern voice, though mischief twinkling in his eyes gave him away. "Yeah, Vince tends to be very generous when it comes to his employees, providing they do their job well. So honey, how 'bout that coffee?" He glanced at the clock. "Damn, it got late. Never mind Doc, I'm sure you're tired."

"Actually, I'd love to go get a cup of coffee with you, but caffeine isn't good for a concussion. How 'bout we both just have some water or juice?" Geneva suggested, smirking when he groaned in protest and raised a slow eyebrow. "Now you can either listen to me or get jittery again, which would cause your heart rate to skyrocket, which would send you back to the hospital…A hospital that I'm not involved with. Now is that what you want, Steve? Because if it is, I'll drive you to the hospital myself and save you a trip."

Steve sighed melodramatically, shaking his head. "Damn, henpecked by a doctor." He smirked, arching an eyebrow. "I suppose a beer would be out of the question too?" He wasn't surprised at the look she gave him. "Alright Doc, lemme get dressed." He gestured to his bare chest. "And we'll go get a...juice."

Geneva giggled at the disdain on Steve's face, amusement shining in her ocean blues and started cleaning up, knowing he was her last patient of the evening. "Go on, I'm not going anywhere."

She turned her back as he walked out the door, laughing softly to herself, and turned the sink on as she washed her hands before drying them off. A drink with Steve wouldn't hurt anything, they were just friends after all. Geneva felt the butterflies erupt in her stomach, hoping that's all Steve wanted to be because her heart belonged to someone else in the WWF.

Hearing footsteps sound behind her, Geneva smiled thinking it was Steve turned to open her mouth to speak, stiffening. Geneva's mouth went completely dry at the sight of the man standing in her doorway, her heart thumping powerfully against her chest, blue locked with pure acid. She often dreamed of this moment happening, of running into his arms if she ever saw him again, but all Geneva could do was stand there completely frozen.

"Undertaker."