Sorry about the delay. I had a little...familial drama to deal with before getting this one out. It's amazing what a swift punch to the head can accomplish.

In case I haven't, welcome jongoodwife2014!

Meg borrowed Sarah's car and drove to the arena no faster or slower than she would have if she were headed out to get groceries. Her brain simply didn't know how to process what she thought she heard on the phone, so she simply chose to ignore it until her eyes confirmed it. 'I'm just going to see Dave. To help him out. It's kinda like work, but...not. Just think of it like work, Meg. So you don't drive off the road. You saw how that almost ended last time.'

It was impossible for Meg to find the correct section of the arena once she arrived; she knew she'd be looking around the back, where the parking was scarce and the lighting was bad, but the number and letter system for the decks made no sense. Whether that was her nerves or the repeated blows to the head, she wasn't sure, but she threw the car into park and called Dave.

"Meg, don't say you're not coming. I need help." He was breathless, and Meg could hear Randy and Joe still hurling threats at each other.

"I'm coming – I mean, I'm here. But I don't know where you are. What door am I looking for?"

"The one you can hear the yelling through. They're at it again, and I'm gonna call security if they – Randy, no!" Dave dropped his phone, and Meg flung her car into a parking spot. Making sure to stuff her keys in a pocket, she ran along the back length of the arena, listening at each door she stopped at. It took her several minutes in breath-robbingly cold weather, but she caught up to the muffled banging and cursing as both Randy and Joe's voices echoed out into the parking lot from behind the metal door. Meg pounded on the door and waited.

"See? Now fucking stop!" Dave was breathless himself, though not from the weather. "I told you Meg was coming, so fucking stop it!" He was worried about her reaction to the scene; it was sheer luck that Joe had been pounced on after filming his segment, but the damage Randy had caused was significant. "What the fuck got in to the two of you?" Both men were leaning against opposite walls of the hallway; Joe on the floor and Randy slumped over the equipment crate he had been pinning Joe against earlier, so Dave felt reasonably safe in lunging for the door and prying it open to let Meg in.

If he knew Randy's opportunistic streak would rear its head and lead him into charging at Joe again, he would have dragged Randy with him. Meg barely made it through the door before she was shoving Dave to the side, trying desperately to beat Randy in a footrace across the narrow hallway before he collided with Joe. She managed to force her way between the two men on the ground, bracing her shoulders back into Randy and pushing back against the wall to drive space between them. Randy threw his hands up and sat back, hard, suddenly afraid that he'd crushed Meg in his dive to get back to Joe. Her entire body was shaking, and she'd buried Joe's head against her chest, trying to shield the swollen side of his face as best she could. By the time she felt reasonably safe that backing away from him wouldn't allow Randy another vantage point for attack, the front of her shirt was covered in blood.

"What...what the fuck did you do?" Meg's voice was an angry whisper; she'd pushed Joe back against the wall and was now in front of Randy, cupping her hands around his jawline and forcing him to look into her eyes. "Are you hurt? Where did he hit you?" From behind her, Joe started to shift, and she dropped her hands from Randy in order to scramble back to him.

"No. No, don't move. Joe, you need to listen to me. I need you to stay still. Dave, can you get ice, or something? We can't move them from here, it'd be a fucking scene and a half."

Dave froze. "Meg, you're out of your mind. One, you can't be here. Two, I am not leaving you with Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber. If they post up again, you're not going to be able to stop them."

"Dave..." Randy was caught between panting for breath and trying to work his jaw around words, "I'm not...I won't. I won't. I wouldn't hurt her."

"Oh, but you'd knock the shit out of Joe?" Meg was incredulous. "If you can do this," she pointed at Joe's face, "Then you can-"

"Meg, no. No." As much as Randy could open, or even adjust, his eyes, he managed a horrified look.

Pain was starting to override adrenaline, and Joe was starting a low, rhythmic moan in response to his body's inability to ignore the beating he took. Sweat from fighting was beginning to give way to sweat from shock, and Meg recognized the looming signs of the night's second crisis. "Dave, please? I'll take my chances on someone finding me here. The faster you go, the faster you get back, but we need to do something." Her hands had somehow found Joe's, and she was rubbing circles on the backs of his hands with her thumbs.

"Fine. But we need a plan once I get back. I'm going to triage. That gives you sixty seconds."

Once he disappeared into the intersection of the halls, Meg turned to Randy. "What did you do? What did you do? He just had surgery; you could kill him pulling shit like this!"

Stunned, Randy managed to sit there mutely staring at Meg, not knowing what to say. His knuckles were thick with blood – both his and Joe's – and he, too, was starting to shake from the effort of simply sitting and breathing. With immense effort, he reached for Meg, brushing sticky fingers along her arm and then wobbling away from her entirely. "Meggie...the shit he said...it was wrong. He's wrong."

"I don't care if he was giving the entire roster a play-by-play of how I get my legs behind my head!" Meg's voice was far louder than she meant for it to be, and the effort of controlling her volume nearly knocked her from her knees to the ground – which was just as well, her shin was begging for mercy. "Whatever he said, he could not have deserved this! Do you see what you did to him? You're gonna have a black eye and sore ribs; you broke his face!" Frustrated, she dropped Joe's hands and threw herself up at Randy, pushing him further over the equipment crate and dancing her fingers along the bones and angles of his face. "See? Nothing. Nothing's wrong with you. You're gonna bruise. He barely touched you. I mean, he did. But not like what you did to him."

Randy reached for her hands, trying to press them to his jaw. 'She's freezing. How long was she outside? She needs gloves. She's so angry. If she heard what he said...what did I do?' Trying to pull her against him, Randy played emotion over reason as a way to reach her. "Meggie...please. Please believe me. Let's just go. I can tell you what happened when we go." He tried to brush her hair away from her face, keep her from turning back to Joe, hold her still in his arms – anything that wasn't allowing her to leave. The strange, hollow, giddy feeling in his stomach that exploded across him as her frame pressed against his told him everything he'd done was right, but told him nothing about how to make her believe him.

"Go? Ran, you must be out of your mind. I can't just go; who's gonna take care of-'"

"Dave. Dave can do it. But can we go?"

"Randy, stop. Just...stop. Please." Meg shook her head. Randy slumped back against the equipment crate, sliding down along the wall until he felt the cold concrete beneath him. "We'll figure it out, Randy. Okay? Just let me take care of what's going on here." 'I could just...you two are both such fucking idiots.'

Driving back to the hotel, Meg kept one eye firmly on the passenger seat and the giant man dwarfing that side of Sarah's car. The bruising was god-awful, as she'd expected it would be. What she hadn't expected was having to drive back to the hotel with only her left hand on the steering wheel, as Joe refused to let go of her right hand. Meg rationalized it to herself and Dave, even while listening to Randy punch the crate again and again, that Joe truly had nobody to take care of him for the night – his fiancee wasn't in town, and even if she was, she wouldn't know what to do. 'And all I have to do is keep him in one piece overnight, and away from Randy. We can talk. There's a lot to talk about.'

Joe couldn't believe his luck. Horrible, in that he could feel his face tightening and bruising even under the ice Dave had used to bury his injuries. Brilliant, in that Meg was driving him back to the hotel, presumably to spend the night. It wasn't going to end in sex – even he knew better than that – but there were other things it could end in. Promises, for one. It could end in promises.

Meg steadied him on the way to the elevator, feeling the tension that radiated through his body. 'I should call his fiancee. She's not gonna be happy, but she should know.' No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than Joe leaned heavily against her, pushing her into the wall near the elevator call-button. Her left shoulder collided with the wall, and she hissed from the impact. Gently righting Joe, fussing against his efforts to turn her to face him, she tried to work her shoulder in a circle while waiting for the elevator to arrive.

"Babygirl, what happened? Did I hurt you?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Or at least, I'm gonna be sore for a while. Shit happens."

Joe gently pulled her against him as the elevator doors opened. Meg was unprepared for his embrace, and nearly tripped over her feet as they walked into the boxcar, earning a chuckle from Joe. "Do I have to help you upstairs?"

Meg nudged him playfully. "Hush. You're not allowed to give me any shit, walking-wounded." Once in his room, she eased his jacket from his shoulders, and couldn't repress the shiver that followed. He was warm, his cologne was familiar, and the hundreds of nights they'd done this same dance played through Meg's mind rapid-fire. Parallel to the familiarity ran the thought that she couldn't place the shiver – where being that close to Randy had lit her in ways that defied words, suddenly being close to Joe lit nothing other than memories. She shrugged it down, but it left her irritable. 'I want something...from him? This doesn't make sense. Something's missing.'

He winced as she sat him on the bed, and again as she leaned him back against the pillows and helped swing his legs up onto the mattress. "You need to let me see what's going on. I'm serious. And I don't want an argument." Slowly, Joe lifted the bottom of his shirt, and Meg cringed. His incision was raw and weeping, and she knew it was going to be a long night spent trying to convince him to go to the hospital. She sat next to him on the bed and gently lifted his shirt off of him, rubbing at his shoulders and smiling when his tattoo offered no resistance to her mind. 'There's one thing I have going for me. He's not going to make me crazier than I already am.'

As much as he could, Joe reached for her and pulled her back against him. Meg started to protest, saying she needed to get him cleaned up, wipe the blood from his face, find fresh ice, but he was having none of it in the moment. In the moment, he wanted to curl himself around his roses and caramel, around the promise that she would fix everything, and around the possibility she would be there in the morning.

'This feels wrong. Wrong and right. Everything he said when I tried to talk to him...he was so hateful. But I missed him so much. Meg, stop. Stop. Just call his fiancee. And call Randy. Make sure he's okay.' Joe watched Meg drift away into her own mind, and managed half a smile, pulling her tightly against him.

"Let me know when you're ready to talk, babygirl," He murmured, "We have all night."

Meg writhed herself loose from his grasp, shaking her head, but holding his hands all the same. "Ice. Ice and towels. And then maybe we talk. Joe, I don't know what to do. Take care of you, for one. And I need to call your fiancee. Beyond that..." Joe pulled her toward him, gently, feeling Meg tense the entire way. Fully aware of the blood still on his face, the sweat still sticky on his skin, he brushed his lips against her cheek.

"All on your time, okay? You tell me." He slowly released her hands and leaned back into the bed, but never took his eyes off of her. 'Meg, tell me what to do. I don't want to screw this up, and I don't have a plan. Yet.'

Dave was spending an equally long night with Randy. Meg had asked him to drive Randy back home, saying she was worried about what he might do in light of the fact she'd opted to go to Joe's hotel rather than Randy's house. As both men had done so many times before where Meg was concerned, they sat in brittle silence. Randy held a ridiculous amount of ice to his face, couldn't find a comfortable position in the SUV, felt his eyes threatening to brim over, and kept side-eyeing the door handle as though he might open it while they drove.

"Randy...you need to let her go. I know you two weren't talking; maybe it needs to stay that way."

"No. No, Dave. Just stop."

"You're killing yourself over her, and she made it pretty fucking clear that she doesn't want that. Or you."

"Dave, stop!" Randy felt his stomach turn over, and he started pawing at the switch for the window. Dave sighed and pulled over, letting Randy fling himself into the grassy shoulder and alternate between throwing up and screaming. The scene was, by degrees, pathetic and heartbreaking.

"Okay, Randy. Calm down. Meg said she'd call." Dave crouched down, trying to be reassuring and avoid any spatter. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. I'm just...frustrated with her. Sick of her doing this. She gets something good in her life and she runs from it." He sighed heavily. "I heard what you said about Joe, but I didn't hear the conversation. What did he say?"

"He-" Randy was gasping for breath; his ribs hurt, his shoulders burned, his head pounded, and there was a broken ache somewhere further in his center than trumped every other physical concern he had, "He was on the phone with someone. I dunno who, but...but it was about Meg."

"Go on..."

"He's such a douche. Such a douche. Said she's needy. Broken. Was talking about her in bed. That he's going to get her back in bed. His fiancee doesn't know, so he can just fuck them both."

Dave felt his blood pressure jump up and the shooting pangs of a headache lodge firmly at the base of his neck. "Tell me you're kidding. Please."

"Do you think I'd beat the fuck out of him just for dumping her?"

"You might. Honestly, Randy, you might."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Dave." Randy tilted onto his hip, still trying to catch his breath. "And help me get back in. I just want to go home."

After several hours of fretting and dabbing, Meg managed to get Joe cleaned and bandaged to her satisfaction. She finally allowed herself a few moments to relax and breathe, washing her hands in the bathroom and giving herself a few seconds to think – fully aware that Joe was watching her every move.

"You don't have to stare, Joe. I'm right here." 'And I need to get some answers while I'm around.'

"Can't help it. Best thing I've seen all night. Improvement over watching the wall meet my face, anyway."

Meg switched the faucet off and scrubbed her hands dry with much more vigor than was necessary. "Joe...what was that about? Randy kept saying I didn't hear you."

'Shit! Shit. He heard me? Okay, but she didn't hear me. And she's asking me first. Think.' "I was on the phone, and yeah, I was talking about you. That it was good to be able to talk to you." 'I don't have to tell you why it's good to talk to you, now do I?'

"And he went postal over that?" Meg's eyebrows immediately furrowed; Joe could see she wasn't buying it.

"He...Meg, you're gonna be mad. Can you promise me you'll let me get the sentence out first?" 'Spin it, Joe.'

Meg's arms crossed in front of her, and Joe immediately recognized the stance as her bracing for an argument. "Go ahead, Joe. I'll wait."

"I was talking to family. One of my cousins. I'd be willing to bet Randy heard me say you felt broken, and that's when he got mad. I didn't say you were broken, Meg." 'Lies and bullshit, because that's not what I said, and you're a mess.' Joe reached for her, hoping that she'd reach back, but not at all surprised when she didn't. He simply let his hands fall to the bed and plastered what he hoped was a defeated look on his face.

"So he did all this to you?"

"You didn't hear the conversation he had with me on my porch after I...after we...when I was...the day you came back. From Louisiana." Joe shifted his feet uncomfortably. "He was ready to punch me then." 'Except that he wasn't. Oh well.' "Meg...Randy's been pissed off at me for a long time. This was just the first time he's seen me. He's been out, I've been out...I'm not gonna lie and say I haven't been an asshole, but do you really think I deserved all this? You even said he could have killed me, and then what?"

Meg stood still, almost more stone than the night Jackson had driven her through the mirror in the hotel. "Joe...fuck...I'm still angry about that day. But I've talked about it so many times with Randy, and he's never...I don't know. He's so horrible at hiding his feelings. How would I not know?"

"Randy hides a lot of things from you, Meg." 'And you just gave me my in, you dumb bitch. Good work. You're mine, now. Here comes the pity.'

The corner of Meg's eye developed a near-immediate tic. "What are you talking about?"

"Did he tell you about the night he took your medallion? He must have, he gave it back to you."

Meg's hand unconsciously flew to cover it. "Yeah, and he said you were talking shit about me, so he punched you. Well, spit first, then punched you. Exact words."

"No, he spent a few hours getting me drunk, then provoked me into an argument, then kneed me in the balls, then spit, then opened a cut over my eye. Then he stole your medallion. I didn't give it to him, he just took it. And for the record, this whole hernia thing? I started having massive stomach pain after he did all that. He left me on the ground, Meg." 'And odds are you're not going to ask about Dave being there. I win this round.'

Disbelief gave way to horror, and Meg sat down on the bed, groping blindly for Joe's hands. "Okay...okay, let's say that since most of that jives with what Randy said, but has more detail, let's say I believe you. At least on this front. What do you want me to do?"

"Stay away from him, Meg. Every time he's angry, he hurts someone."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Joe. He's never hurt me, and he's been beyond angry at me so many times. He'd never hit me, he-"

"What, he loves you? I know, he told me that, too. Don't tell me you fell for that, Meg."

Joe had to work, and work hard, to hold his face perfectly still. The stunned expression on Meg's face that gave way to shock that gave way to complete and utter confusion was priceless, and Joe realized he had to jump on the moment in order to capitalize.

"Oh, come on, Meg. He never said anything? You never picked up on it? All this cross-country road trip bullshit and he never once said he loved you? It never once occurred to you that he might be doing all this – and let me guess, fancy dinners. Fancy hotels. Fancy everything, parading you around, just like you always told me you hated – all because he had other interests in you, and the dots never connected?" Her eyes looked as though they were beginning to sting, and Joe lowered his tone. "Babygirl...all the time we were together, right up until I fucked up at the end – and I own that, I was the one who fucked up – I always respected you. You were not a trophy to me. You were my Meg." 'Perfect, Joe. Game, set, match.'

Meg pulled herself fully up into the bed next to Joe, eyes still blank and wide. "I don't-" She swallowed, hard, trying to keep some words down, let others out. "And you have-"

"Shh. Not right now, okay? Just...let yourself be. Figure it out, like you say, but later." He nuzzled the top of her head, Meg never seeing the sadistic smile on his face.