Chapter 32

When she opened them again, she was backstage behind the curtain away from all those people and Batista. Paul rushed over to her, but Emery immediately made a beeline for the trashcan nearby and emptied the contents of her stomach. Vomiting until there was nothing left, Emery felt a cool cloth press against her forehead and hazily looked up at Paul, who had a hold of her. The cloth would take away the writing from the sharpie as well as hide it from others, but it was no use. Everyone had saw it already, the entire world. She took a second wet cloth and wiped her mouth off with it, her head spinning as she lost her footing. Swept up again in strong arms, Emery could only close her eyes and prayed her head stopped pounding sooner rather than later, feeling a little better after getting sick.

Paul was hot on Mark's trail, refusing to leave Emery's side after what just happened.

"What's going on?" Larry demanded when the Undertaker all but ran in, taking note of the semi-unconscious woman in his arms.

Emery was trying to speak again, but it was coming out slurred and he bet her head and stomach were killing her. Mark had no idea how long she had been out and doubted the whiskey was still in her system, even if he could smell traces. "Ether poisoning."

"What the hell?!"

"She was knocked out with ether, but the dosage was too high." He knew, he had to play chemist to get the right dosage back in the day. "She needs an IV to flush it out."

"You'll have to walk me through it."

"Ether poisoning?!" Paul felt his jaw drop while standing in the doorway, looking at Emery while Larry started an emergency IV. "You need to take her to the hospital!" Batista had overdosed her with ETHER?! "This needs to be reported…"

"SHUT UP, LONDON!" Larry was concerned about the young lady on his table, having known her for 10 years and he wasn't about to let her die on his watch.

Paul gritted his teeth and stalked off to try to get a hold of Randy, but he stayed nearby in case Emery needed him.

Once the IV was in, Larry said a quick prayer to the heavens, he watched the water start to slide into her body and looked up at Taker, breathing somewhat raggedly. "Her heartbeat is growing stronger along with her pulse. She'll probably sleep the rest of the night. She needs to go back to the hotel, get her out of here."

Mark shook his head negatively. "No. She stays here. You'll leave me the supplies and I'll tend to her myself. I won't have her moved." She'd be vomiting, weak, and passed out throughout the night. He'd move her in the morning. When Larry and Paul both started in on him, he cocked an eyebrow. "Paul, why don't you put your anger to better use and go find Matthew?"

"Why?"

"So we can overdose him."

"Maybe we should call the police…" Larry watched Mark pull a sheet over Emery before sliding a chair to sit by her, noting the other man's eyes were fastened on the IV bag.

Sometime in the AM, Emery slowly felt her body awaken, eyes fluttering open and reached a weak hand up to touch her head. Holy cow…that had been one HELL of a dream she'd had. Maybe cutting back on the Jack Daniels wasn't a bad idea after all. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Emery managed to roll on her side and nearly fell, cursing at the tiny padded bed she was on. What the hell? This wasn't her house…this wasn't her room either.

"What happened?" She whispered to herself, sitting up slowly and screamed when she heard a low baritone through the darkness, falling off the padded bedding with a thud. "WHAT THE HELL?" Oh, shouting was not a good idea as her temples began pounding.

All he had done was go to grab a quick coffee. Shaking his head, Mark set aside his cup and moved to gently help Emery off the floor, sitting her back on the bed, resting his hands on her sides to steady her. "Darlin', it's me." He said softly, wondering if that would help anything. "Stop trying to move or you'll throw up." Again. She would probably be dizzy and a little tired, maybe hungry. A forced detox… not fun and he had cleaned her up so many times throughout the night, including removing that sharpie off her head, what had been left of it. "Emery, do you remember anything from last night?"

"M-Mark?"

What was Mark doing here? The confusion on her face said it all. She didn't remember anything, not right away at least. Then suddenly, as if someone took a taser to her brain, memories of the previous night flooded through her. Waking up in David's dressing room, to being forced out in front of all those people, watching the montage he'd put together for her and then…the sharpie…Emery reached up to touch her forehead, beginning to tremble violently, unshed tears in her eyes and her breathing kicked up several notches.

"Y-Yeah…yeah I remember…"

Oh god it wasn't a dream! She'd been humiliated by David Batista in front of millions of people on national television! Shaking her head, Emery stumbled off the bedding and held onto it, shutting her eyes tightly.

"I-I gotta get out of here…"

Now, he could have watched her fall. He had seen it coming, she was panicking and panic made people act stupid. A lot of things made people act stupid. Fear and anger, for example, they both knew all about those. But, he caught her when she let go of the bedding.

"Everyone is gone, Emery." He whispered, pulling her up against him. "It's just us." Paul had texted him, so had Orton, and when he found out who had given those annoying pricks his cell number, he'd feed them his battery pack.

"Get off me!"

Emery didn't want to be touched right now, not after what happened to her and shoved his hands away. She quit the WWE, she wasn't supposed to be here and David had dragged her back. Gritting her teeth, Emery wasn't nearly as panicked as she was angry, resentful and full of hatred at the entire company for letting this happen.

"I'm going home, where I should've fucking been this entire time."

Looking down at the clothes she had on, she scowled at the black pants and red dress shirt, wanting to kick David's teeth down his throat. She shivered, feeling incredibly nauseous, but she had nothing left in her system to hack. Some water, lots of water, and aspirin is what she needed along with some toast or crackers. First, she had to get away from Mark and headed for the door to leave. When she collapsed backwards again, he was right there to catch her.

"Emery, you have ether poisoning." Mark confessed quietly, knowing he was the last person she wanted to deal with and he didn't blame her. Not after everything that had happened between them. "We've flushed most of it out, but you're going to be incredibly weak for a while. Let me help you." He even said it in a pleading tone, about as close to 'please' as he was going to get.

"Ether…poisoning?" She said it in a slow, weak voice, looking up at him upside down and felt him sweep her up in his arms to lay her back down on the padded bedding. "He…poisoned me…"

It was no longer a question, just a statement as she stared up at the ceiling and looked away from Mark, silent tears sliding down the corners of her eyes. Some of them dripped to her nose and Emery didn't wipe them away, never feeling so helpless in her life. David had kidnapped her, dosed her with ether and apparently nearly killed her in the process.

"So it wasn't the alcohol..." That didn't comfort her at all as she felt Mark wipe her sweat-covered forehead and tears away. "When I'm better, I'm gone." Shutting her eyes, Emery fell back to sleep again, having exerted herself a lot more than she should've.

She'd be fine soon enough, but now was a good time to move. Mark gathered up his belongings, drained his coffee and texted dumb and dumber, letting them know he was relocating her to a hotel room. Trying to explain why he was carrying a woman through the parking garage and then at the lobby desk was more awkward than he had anticipated. Things had been so much simpler before all this technology had taken over. Sneaking someone into a room had been easier as well. Once she was settled in a room, in a bed, Mark began removing the clothing David had put her in, instantly regretting it. Ether… and sweat, from her body pushing both out of her system after the IV. He'd clean her up, put her in a shirt… and just wait.

Another 8 hours passed by before Emery woke up again, this time feeling a lot better than she had. Her head didn't pound anymore, her vision was clear and she remembered everything that happened. There was no impairment to her memory. She hated David Batista, wishing him a slow and painful death while chomping on some toast and crackers Mark had gotten for her. Just water for the moment – her stomach was still queasy. The bastard hadn't bothered bringing her any identification or anything, so for now Emery was literally stuck with the man who broke her heart. She didn't say more than 3 words to him, keeping to herself and ate silently.

Once the toast and crackers were ingested, she felt ten times better and reached up to scratch her forehead absentmindedly. Vince had tried calling several times to talk to Emery, but she didn't want anything to do with him and Mark had taken care of her former boss. After a shower, Emery felt back to normal again and knew it would be a little while longer before she regained her full strength. Mark lent her another t-shirt to wear and she took it without any problems along with the fresh undergarments he'd paid the maid in the hotel to buy for her. Money spoke volumes these days and could get anyone to do anything, apparently. Walking out, she sat back down on the bed and took the brush that was on the nightstand, beginning to get the tangles out of her hair.

"Orton is at your house." Mark briefed, getting off the phone for what felt like the millionth time today, shaking his head. Randy apparently was having a major guilt trip for leaving her there, after he had gone out to check on her. He had stayed for a few days and then bailed, unable to deal with her depression and… now felt at fault for what had happened. "He's having security installed." Guilt had led to the man going overboard. "And brought a maid in?" That was curious, he remembered her house being clean.

"He shouldn't be doing that." Emery muttered, continuing to brush her hair and finally stopped, tossing the brush to the side on the bed.

How the hell did she get here?

Just a few months ago, her life was damn near perfect and quiet. Then Mark began pursuing her and everything snowballed after that. She was convinced, more than ever, Matthew was helping Batista. Emery supposed she deserved everything that had happened – serving penance and all that. At Mark's curious look, she merely looked away from him and stared out the window, drawing her knees up to rest her cheek on them. Randy's suspension would be up after Backlash, so no doubt he would return to the road when Tuesday rolled around. By then, she would be back in Sedona and hopefully never stepping foot inside a WWE arena again as long as she lived.

"He feels like this is his fault." He said slowly, sinking down at the tiny table, setting aside his cell and returning to the breakfast he had been trying to eat for the past hour or so. It was cold. Mark was famished and kept his gaze on her. "He was there, he left, and you were kidnapped. Paul has been looking for Matthew, but that squirrelly little bastard is gone. Vince said he had put in for TNA, but hadn't lifted his contract yet." He shrugged, letting her make of that what she would.

"I could care less what happens to him. I don't care what happens to Batista either. I just wanna get the hell out of here and go back to Sedona."

Though she would be selling her house, deciding it had too many memories there for her to withstand. The pain in her chest, the hole in her heart, hadn't sealed. It was still there and Emery had to find another way to close it, mend it, without resorting to drinking herself into a stupor. She didn't move from the bed, though her eyes did turn from the window to bury her face in her knees, holding herself tightly. Being in Mark's presence killed her inside and her heart throbbed with pain, gritting her teeth against it. All he could see was a head full of black, her face completely buried since she was under the comforter.

"Yeah, I figured."

Mark finished his food, pushing away from the table and ran his hands through his loose hair, staring at the mass of black. He had booked her a flight, Orton would be at the airport to take her home. He had a feeling Randy was going to wear out his welcome very quickly with Emery in her current state, but… guilt did crazy things. Like right now, he wanted to go hold her, apologize for everything, but had been the one to say no more. That love wasn't enough, and he knew he couldn't keep breaking her like this.

A knock on the door made Emery's head slowly lift while Mark went to answer the door and in walked none other than Vince McMahon himself. "Get out."

"Emery…"

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say, Vince." Emery couldn't look at him, staring at the wall directly in front of her and clenched her fists tightly at her sides.

Vince was stubborn, nodding at Mark and walked over to sit on the bed somewhat away from her. "Listen to me Emery, please. I had no idea what Batista was planning and after Backlash, he's being suspended."

"Great." Emery snorted, rolling her eyes and shook her head, finally turning cold ice blues on her old boss. "What the hell do you want, Vince? Just spit it out."

"Well…" Vince cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together slowly. "I know the type of position I put you in and for that, I'm…"

"Don't you dare apologize to me. It's a little late for that, don't you think, Vince?" Emery stood up from the bed, trying like hell to keep her temper in check. "You gave me a job to do…and it destroyed lives. This wasn't supposed to go like this. Do you know that Matthew, my ex-proxy, is the one who's been helping Batista? The proxy YOU gave me because it was YOUR idea, solely, for me to have one so I didn't have to deal with the wrestlers' attitudes when a line popped up they didn't like! Well guess what, Matthew is getting his revenge against me by ripping apart my life and all you have to say to me is SORRY?"

"Emery…"

"No! No, Vince. I didn't have a problem with dealing with the wrestlers and their attitudes, but you thought I couldn't handle it. You thought LYING to your employees about who the lead script writer actually was, and putting someone in that kinda of situation, was the way to go. You were WRONG! And so was I. I never should've let you talk me into having a proxy. I never should've came up with half the stupid, ridiculous ideas for you to use against the wrestlers, especially Mark. I should've never taken this damn job in the first place! And now you're going to tell me that you want me to stay until Backlash, right? Because 'DC' has been exposed on your television, on your watch, and now you want me to go out there with Mark to watch him destroy Batista, right? RIGHT?" She was trembling with barely contained rage, her eyes nothing more than ice.

"Y-Yeah…" Vince swallowed hard, not remembering the last time he'd gotten a tongue lashing of this magnitude from a woman. "People are already talking about you…"

"I'm sure they fucking are after seeing what Batista put me through." Emery shook her head sadly, placing a hand over her forehead as if covering it up and shut her eyes. "Fine. Fine Vince, I'll do it. But I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because I DO want to watch Mark destroy him and being front row and center will be the best seat in the fucking house. Now you can exit the way you entered and thanks for everything. MUCH appreciated." Storming into the bathroom, she slammed the door shut so hard, the walls shook throughout the room.

"Well then…Mark, talk to her. I know she said she would, but… if you could-" Vince swallowed hard when the giant stood up, taking a step backwards. "Now, you know…"

He knew quite a bit and wasn't impressed. "Out."

"It's just business."

"Out."

"Now Mark, you need to sign for Backlash and-" Vince let out a yelp when he was physically picked up and tossed out of the room.