Chapter 26

"Let me get you some ice."

Sliding off his lap, Emery walked over to the freezer, grabbing a Ziploc bag in the bottom drawer to fill it up with ice. A minute later, she had pressed it against his jean covered crotch and frowned when he hissed out in pain, wincing. Emery hadn't meant to kick him and felt terrible for hurting him, kissing his forehead softly.

"You meant it." He read and interpreted her thoughts from the myriad of emotions dancing in her vivid blue eyes. "You meant it because you were scared and angry."

Mark would admit, to himself, that she had every reason to feel that way and he maybe deserved it. He knew himself. He knew how his moods and sometimes even his entire personality took an abrupt turn. Something darker and more sinister; he had unleashed it all on her. He was worn out now and she looked it too. Sighing, he held that ice pack there and just stared at her.

"I'm making us something to eat and then we're going to bed and getting some sleep."

Emery had no more strength, fight or energy inside of her, trudging into the kitchen while he nursed his wounded pride and nether region. She made something quick, pouring some cans of Campbell's chunky potato soup into a pot to warm it up. It was cheating, but she honestly couldn't stomach anything else right now. While stirring the soup, silent tears slid down her cheeks and didn't bother wiping them away. It was from the after effect of the horrible fight they'd had…and Mark's volatile temper. Reaching up into the cabinet, she grabbed some crackers before procuring bowls, plates and spoons.

She had made them soup. His first reaction was to not touch it at all because… she may have poisoned it or something. The woman HAD threatened to shoot him after what he pulled. Apparently, she noticed his hesitation and promptly took a bite from each bowl. Mark wasn't starving, but it gave him something to do and it felt… ridiculous actually. They just had a major blowout… he had terrorized her, she had squashed his balls and now they were sitting here eating soup and crackers. Mark began laughing at how insane it all was.

Staring at him like he'd lost his mind, Emery started laughing as well, the sound heartbreaking instead of humorous. She couldn't stop laughing, half of her soup gone and had to set the bowl down on the coffee table, their laughter mixing together. What would've happened had she not pulled that gun out after kicking him below the belt? Would Mark have hurt her? What other games did he have in mind prior to stopping him? Emery was no longer hungry, touching her throat and could tell Mark wasn't hungry anymore either, their eyes meeting briefly.

"Come on, bedtime." She whispered, taking his bowl to set it on the coffee table and rose, extending her hand to him.

Mark hadn't missed the way her hand had moved to her throat and felt something very akin to remorse pulsate through him. He stood up, letting the ice pack fall to the ground and sighed inwardly. It looked like they both had given each other new issues and, whether or not they could fix them, and restore at least a friendship was something he wasn't sure they could do. He didn't trust her and she was afraid of him. Slowly, making sure she could read his intentions, Mark moved until his arms were around her, pulling her slowly in until she was folded against his chest.

'I'm sorry.' He mouthed against her hair, unable to get the actual words out just yet.

The embrace told her all she needed to know as her arms tightened around him, her face buried in his chest. Emery did trust him, he'd just scared her with the sleeper hold and everything else. At least World War III was over with because that's exactly what it'd felt like. They'd been in a war. Slowly pulling back from him to look up into his remorseful eyes, Emery did something she never thought she would do. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and forced his mouth down on hers, softly kissing him.

There was way more than friendship between them, Emery had no idea what it was, but hopefully in time she would be able to find out.

His body tensed at first with the kiss, but Emery felt him relax against her and her feet left the floor to be eyelevel with him, deepening the kiss a little more. It felt like her shattered heart had mended back together, no more tears falling from her eyes or fear and pain radiating from her body. That kiss was all she got from him, knowing that anything beyond that wouldn't help either one of them so much as hurt. Sex complicated things and, right now, neither of them needed anymore complication in their life. They needed sleep and then a long chat, or maybe more silence. Also… his balls hurt and not in the 'need empty' sort of way.

Soft classic rock played through the kitchen as Emery cooked breakfast, up much earlier than Mark and let him sleep. She knew he needed it, wanting the slightly dark circles to vanish from his eyes. Keeping the noise level down, she did her best to be quiet and had made waffles. It was a simple, she'd cheated and used pancake mix along with her Belgian waffle maker. With a side of scrambled eggs, made in butter, and bacon, she made each of them a plate and turned around, jumping slightly at the sight of him. She had on cotton white shorts and a black tank top, setting the plates on the table in front of him and looked up into his eyes. It felt wonderful sleeping in his arms the previous night, both of them having passed out almost as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

"Morning, I hope you're hungry."

He had fallen asleep in clothing and changed into a pair of black sweatpants this morning, not overly caring that they had sunk low on his hips. His black hair was tousled about his face and, in the morning light, he had noted dully that he needed a shave. "A little." He rumbled, moving over to the coffee pot, noticing she already had it going and reached for the mug she had set down, pouring himself a cup and simply stared at the cupboards.

With coffee and breakfast ingested silently, Emery put the dirty dishes in the sink and decided to do them later. They had to talk. Really talk. Not yell and scream at each other, but actually talk to find out where they stood. Sitting down on the couch, Emery sat Indian style and put her hands in her lap while he sat next to her, the tension thick between them.

"I'm thinking of…leaving the company." She finally broke the silence between them, keeping her eyes averted to her lap and heaved a sigh. "I just don't think I can repair what's been broken…and that includes us, whatever we had. I know it's damaged and I accept that. I can always get a job somewhere else, but…I wanted you to hear it from me in case I do decide to leave."

Mark had refilled his mug and occupied himself with it, taking a slow drink, studying her thoughtfully. "You don't have to leave your job because of me."

He accepted her terms; she would never touch his scripts again. Regardless of where they stood now, the fact that she had been sleeping with him, while also basically directing his career, didn't set well with him. Professional and personal never mixed. Her biggest issue had been him and David.

"I think the blowout from all this coming to light will be fast."

"It's more than that."

Emery had been publicly humiliated at the hands of David Batista. Someone had given him that footage, someone had planted cameras in her rental vehicle. She had a great memory and remembered having that conversation, it'd just been her, Paul and Randy in the car, nobody else. They'd been recorded and now the entire world saw it.

"I don't feel comfortable doing my job anymore. I don't want to be a script writer anymore, especially not the lead. Cheryl can have that position, she's more than earned it and has been there almost as long as I have. I think it would be best if I just…walked away and started over somewhere else where nobody knows me."

Go back to be the dork chick that everyone overlooked.

For a minute, Mark did not recognize this woman. He could only stare at her, wondering who had snatched Emery's body. That was her. That was her voice, but it wasn't her. "Darlin'," He reached out to take her hands in his, frowning when she tensed, angry at himself, not her. "Since when do you quit, hmm?" When she peered up into his face, he managed a soft smile. "You went toe to toe with me, several times, and didn't back down. Why would you start now?"

"I don't know…I don't know what to do anymore."

Emery felt so lost and confused, battling with herself because, on one hand, all she'd done was her job, but she had also lied to Mark about being responsible for the lines, specifically the WrestleMania fiasco. In truth, she was terrified to walk back into the company and face all the wrestlers because there were several lines Matthew had to take punishment for on her behalf. Now she couldn't touch Mark's scripts anymore…and she didn't know if Vince would allow that seeing as how she was the lead script writer.

"I just said I was thinking about it…I don't know if I'm gonna do it yet or not…"

Mark had already taken care of Vince, not that she needed to know that. He had made it very clear that he was fine with anyone except her coming up with lines from here on out, but HE reviewed everything and cleared it. He had worked for too long, giving breaks and holding everything together -the Monday night Wars came to mind-, for writers to think they could screw with him based on what they thought was right. Not happening anymore. He'd drop his streak, his legacy, but to someone of HIS choosing.

"Take a few days, darlin', think about it."

Despite her gut instincts to leave WWE and start over, she kept her job, after having a long meeting with Vince regarding her position in the company. Instead of being the lead script writer, she was now just part of the writing team. Cheryl had taken over her position as the lead script writer, at her request, and the woman had cried her heart out to Emery. She assured Cheryl she was deserving of the position and no other words were spoken about it. Over the next couple weeks, Emery kept to herself and left Mark alone, him doing the same, both deciding it was better not to mix business with pleasure any longer. They didn't have a long discussion about it; he simply left her in Sedona that weekend from hell and they'd gone on as if they didn't know each other.

As if that month of mind-blowing sex and passion hadn't taken place.

So, Emery had no friends, no allies and alienated herself from society, adopting her old ways of working, eating, gaming and sleeping. Since Vince had the dress code changed to where everyone had to dress up, besides a select few, whenever they had to work, Emery's jeans and t-shirts were a thing of the past. She stepped out of her rental, wearing a black skirt and light blue buttoned up blouse, her hair braided over her shoulder. She headed inside the arena to start the hectic day and walked into the writer's room, frowning at a package left on her desk.

He didn't mind the changes and kept to himself for a while, knowing he had hurt Emery with his abrupt leaving. Now not seeing her unless they had a chance passing in a hallway. Mark had to sort out his own thoughts and issues about what had happened. To decide whether or not he could learn to trust her again, providing she ever got over her fear of him. Time, period, was what was needed.

"What the hell?" It was a videotape with WATCH ME in bold black lettering on the front and side of it. There was a setup in the writer's room with a TV and VCR, so she walked over to pop it in, turning it on. Her eyes went wide, listening to her voice and Vince's talking about the Corporate Ministry angle.

"Emery, this line is…brilliant, but are you sure it's the right thing to do?"

"Trust me Vince, when the fans see the McMahons and the Undertaker with his Ministry working together against Austin, it'll sell tickets like hot cakes. You won't have a vacant seat in the arena, I promise you."

"The Ministry of Darkness is Mark's sole idea…I don't know if he'd be alright with it being tampered with…" Vince sounded hesitant in the video.

"Who's the boss? You or him? Vince, if you want to keep the ratings as high as they are, you've gotta do something to shock the fans. You've gotta WOW them or else WCW will start beating you in the ratings again. It's all about the ratings at the end of the day, so who cares what anyone else thinks?"

"Alright – alright, push it through." He handed over the paperwork to his assistant. "I trust you, Emery, I just hope this doesn't come back to bite us on the ass."

"Me too."

"Hello Emery…" David smiled into the video now, his brown eyes cold and devoid of emotion. "You know…you're a conniving bitch, messing with Taker's career the way you have. Imagine what he would do if he saw this, hmm? Actually, I think that's a great idea. Tonight, this will be shown for the world to see during my segment with him. Time to fuck your world up as well as his, sweetheart. You really should've been nicer to me."

Swallowing hard as the footage ended, Emery felt eyes on her from behind and turned, seeing the writing team staring back at her with sympathetic expressions on their faces. "Excuse me." She whispered, ripping the tape out of the VCR and bolted out of the writer's office, needing to speak to Mark immediately.

Mark had found his designated dressing room in shambles. It was a total mess and what was even more interesting, and obnoxious, were all of the T's and X's, his symbol, spray painted everywhere. And then the center point… a very large image of him and Vince, celebrating the announcement of the Corporate Ministry. He had HATED that and knocked his boss out.

Scrawled over the imagine were the words: Do You Know Who's Pulling Your Strings?

"Mark, I – oh my god…" Emery blinked at all the damage in the dressing room, her jaw dropped and looked around at all the T and X's, along with the picture, feeling a sick feeling erupt in her stomach. "It was Batista." She quietly said, not having spoken a word to him since he left Sedona a few weeks ago and clutched the tape tighter against her side.

This was NOT a good time to show him what Batista had left her in the writer's room.

He was still staring at the picture, his hands clenched in tight fists at his side. Mark remembered his boss coming to him, informing him that HE was the employee and VINCE was the boss, his say went. He had co-cocked Vince right in the face.

"Batista huh? How would he know about this?" He asked, his voice calm and quiet, never very good signs. "This was way before his time."