New chapter! Good lord, I am rusty, especially when it come to writing in-ring action, and I'm trying to create the connective tissue between the remaining big story moments that I have planned. But I tried my best - that's all we can do, huh? Enjoy!

Thank you to Sazi94for leaving a review. You are an absolute rockstar and I really appreciate the response.

Peace!

Chapter 31: Straight to Hell

Matt ran both hands through his dark hair, sighing heavily. The ache from the tag team bout and the post-match beatdown had eased back to a tolerable, if omnipresent, level - the price of hurling your body around for at least half your life without a thought of the consequences - and he and Jeff were back in his hotel room.

He had just gotten off the phone with Ashley, who had been frantically blowing up his cell since the conclusion of the match, anxious to know how he - and Jeff - were doing. During their conversation, they had talked largely of stuff that didn't matter, as though addressing the big thorny event lurking in the pauses between their sentences would somehow make it more real, more awful.

It wasn't until their awkward attempt at normal chatting weakly petered out, and Matt was just about to tell her he loved her and hang up the phone, that the punk rock Diva finally gave voice to what they were both thinking:

…Melina?...

He remembered the worry, the concern in her voice - something he wouldn't have expected to hear a week ago, at least where the Dominant Diva was concerned. One of the most unbelievable things to emerge out of the past weekend was that Melina and Ashley actually got along. Somehow, in spite of all the bad blood and the in-ring grudges and the specter of Maria looming over all of them, the pair had quickly bonded, exchanging pop culture opinions and giggling over their own in-jokes - which seemed to be largely at the (good-natured) expense of the Hardy brothers.

(I like her… the Diva Search winner had admitted on the car ride home. I should hate her guts, but I…can't. I LIKE her. She's not at all like she is in the ring. She looked over at Matt. And you're right: she and Jeff…they fit.)

Matt had hesitated at the question, wanting so badly to say something, anything reassuring, before finally settling for the truth: I don't know. I hope…I hope to God that she's…but I don't know…

There had been a long pause on the other end of the line, then:

…and Jeff?...

The elder Hardy brother felt his chest grow tight, the way it always did when his brother was concerned, and his gaze involuntarily drifted over to the hunched figure sitting silently on the edge of one of the twin beds. He grasped for words again, struggling to find a way to express the ineffable, eventually just saying:

…Lost…

Now Matt eased himself down onto the bed opposite, taking in his brother. The Charismatic Enigma had washed his face and pulled his multi-hued hair back into a low bun, but the manic energy, the impatient tension that was ubiquitous with him was nowhere to be seen, as though it had been tapped out of him. He sat motionless, his gaze fixed on the carpet, and Matt could tell from the dull glazed gleam of his emerald irises that he had retreated far within himself.

He thought back to that loading dock in Manchester, when he'd berated his brother for losing his mind over a girl, and impulsively wished that he could take it back - because he hadn't understood, not then. He'd thought whatever had occurred between Jeff and the paparazzi princess had been nothing more than a misguided crush; it hadn't been until he had actually seen them together that he'd realized how much deeper it ran - how they bloomed around each other; how they brought one another to life.

And now Melina was gone, torn away from Jeff in the most violent and ugly way possible, and Matt was here, helplessly watching his brother die on the inside all over again.

Silence stretched out between them, until the elder Hardy brother finally leaned back, clearing his throat. "So…what are we going to do?"

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior didn't respond; merely sat there, like a figure carved from stone. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he stirred; the motion faint, like ripples over a still pond. "I…I don't know." His voice was soft and dull. "Right now, he has her, and I–"

He broke off, glancing over at his cell phone, sitting silent and still on the nightstand. He didn't need to finish the thought; Matt knew how many times he had tried to call the Dominant Diva; had seen worry course through his brother's wiry frame like electric current each time the call went straight to voicemail. "-and I don't have the slightest fucking idea what to do next."

His gaze shifted, meeting Matt's for the first time, and the elder Hardy brother could see the two extremes warring in their green depths: explode with panic or shut down completely. "She warned me, bro." the Charismatic Enigma whispered, and Matt felt pain stab through him at how wretched it sounded. "She told me, over and over again, that he was losing it; that he would never let her go without a fight, and I…I didn't listen. I thought that I could handle it. I should have–"

His voice cracked, skittering up an octave, and Matt saw tears glittering in his brother's eyes. "I should have known…that first night I found her crying outside…that he was capable of this. He hit her–because she stood up for herself, because she called him out on his bullshit."

Jeff pressed his knuckles against his mouth, drawing in a shaky breath as he struggled to compose himself. "She apologized to me, you know? For this, for dragging me into all of this. Even in the ring…she was telling me that she was sorry…and I'm the one who fucking let her go–"

"Then we get her back, bro," Matt interjected quietly. "That piece of shit isn't going to stay hidden for long - he's going to want the world to see what he's done - and when he does show his ugly face, we'll be ready for him–" He stopped, noting the confused look on his brother's face. "What?"

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior cocked his head to the side, looking for all the world like he was five years old again. "We?"

In spite of himself, Matt felt a tiny smile touch the corners of his mouth. "What, you think I'm gonna make you go through this alone?" He leaned forward. "When I knocked on your hotel door, what was the one thing I asked you?"

Jeff frowned and leaned back, the act of concentrating forcing him a little bit more out of himself and into the present. "If she and I were for real."

"And what did you say?" his brother pressed.

The Charismatic Enigma let his breath out slowly, the memory of that morning - Melina; the scent of her skin, the taste of her lips - sending a splinter of pain through his heart. "...That we were."

Matt made a There you go motion in the air with both hands, as though that explained everything. "I've got your back, bro - and if you ask me, that's where that asshole fucked up, because he didn't just go after you; he went after us–"

Both brothers jumped as Matt's cell phone abruptly went off. The elder Hardy brother pulled the device out of his back pocket, frowning at the display. "Huh. Don't recognize the number." He pressed a button and held it to his ear. "Hello?" He listened for a second before his eyes bulged and a look of disbelief crossed his face. "You're shitting me."

Now it was Jeff's turn to sit up straight. "What? What is it?" His green eyes went wide. "Is it her? Is it Melina? Let me talk to her–"

Matt quickly pulled the phone away from his ear, holding his other hand over the speaker. "You won't believe this - it's Paul Heyman."

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior felt a puzzled frown cross his face. As if this night couldn't get any more fucked-up and carnivalesque, now the founder and current general manager of the recently reformed ECW was calling them? "Heyman? What does he want?"

Matt held up his index finger, indicating silence. "What? No, sorry, sir - that was Jeff. We weren't really expecting–" He paused, listening. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh." He gave his brother a thumbs-up.

What? What's going on? Jeff mouthed. In spite of himself, he could feel the familiar itch of impatience taking hold of him again, pulling him however temporarily out of the hole of misery he had crawled into.

As though sensing his brother's thoughts, Matt's gaze flicked back toward him again, his dark irises meeting Jeff's green ones. "No, sir, you assumed right - after tonight, my brother and I are looking to send a message."

The corner of his mouth twitched, curling up in a grin. "And what better place than ECW?"

Melina slumped against the bathroom door, legs splayed out in front of her, one hand absently rubbing her bare thigh. The first thing she had done once the two of them had arrived back at Nitro's hotel room had been to wrench her arm free and lock herself in the bathroom, both to separate herself from the self-proclaimed A-lister and to seclude herself long enough to formulate a plan.

Nitro, shockingly, had let her slip his grasp; had not even asked her to unlock the door - and somehow, that scared her even more than the outbursts of violence and rage. The former Intercontinental Champion was not a patient man, not when a title belt or his pride was concerned, and the fact that he wasn't hammering and screaming to unlock this goddamn door right now…well, that meant he knew that he could afford to wait.

Because he had won. He had trapped her. And now, she was screwed.

Melina abruptly dug her nails into her leg, leaving shallow half-moon crescents in her skin, forcing herself to focus on the pain, on the cold tile beneath her thighs, on the door against her back - anything to keep herself in the here and now and not drift away into the ether of shock. The problem with that, though, was that every time she did, all the wrong memories from the past few hours came floating back in.

Nitro's hand, resting on her leg during the drive to the hotel, his little finger grazing the edge of her inner thigh, and the revulsion that surged up in her, the weight of his touch like a contaminant…

When he had pulled out her Sidekick in the hotel parking lot (her phone how had he gotten his hands on her phone) and waved it tauntingly in front of her face before smashing it to pieces on the pavement, the Dominant Diva too stunned to do more than watch…

The look on his face…dear God the look on his face, the look in his eyes–

Melina pressed both hands against her face, her shoulders shaking as the tears came once more. Her mind began to drift, and this time she let it, welcoming the numbness and the disconnect, until it seemed like she was watching herself from a distance - a small shivering figure crying on an anonymous hotel bathroom floor - wondering how things had gotten so fucked up.

This morning…this morning, she had woken up in Jeff's arms, with enough mental and temporal distance between her and the events of Survivor Series to make it seem like little more than a bad dream - terrifying, yes, but ultimately surmountable. She had felt safe. She had felt happy.

They had made love, gently, tenderly, the Charismatic Enigma taking exquisite care not to aggravate any of her injuries. She could still remember his emerald irises going hazy as the feeling overtook them both, as thought gave way to sensation, the desire in his voice as he groaned–

Oh god Melina I love you so much…

–and the way she gasped in response–

I love you too Jeff oh my God I love you too…

–and then they had come to the arena, and with each passing hour, the fear, the dread had returned, so much so that she had begged Jeff to take her to the ring with him, and then–

Let her go…

–Jeff, held fast between both members of Rated RKO, the defiance in his eyes giving way to panic at the sight of her bruised face–

I don't care what you do to me…just let her go…

–in an instant, everything had changed. In one heartbeat, the bad dream had returned and swallowed her whole–and this time, no matter how many times she pinched herself, it refused to end.

She was screwed; that much she was certain of. She had absorbed enough of the contract's verbage to grasp that her ex-boyfriend's hold on her was ironclad and absolute. How far the limits of it stretched, she didn't know, but the lascivious leer in Nitro's eyes, the way his hand rested on her leg…she was pretty sure how far he'd be willing to stretch it. Just the thought of that sent a wave of revulsion crashing over the Dominant Diva, and she swallowed hard, forcing down the hot sour bile that had climbed up her throat.

She hadn't anticipated this. She - the mastermind, the one who usually thought three moves ahead - hadn't anticipated this, and even with no pride left to wound, that realization still stung all the way down to the marrow of her being. Oh, she had expected retaliation, fear, even pain and blood - she'd braced for the slap, but hadn't planned on the backhand that followed.

What had happened in the ring - that was Johnny Nitro to a T, or at least the volatile and violent monster that he had become. But what had emerged afterwards…the scope of the web that he'd woven to ensnare her and ensure her submission…that wasn't him. Not because it was cruel…but because it was cunning.

The self-proclaimed A-lister was arrogant, braggadocious, and impatient - what he wasn't was a planner. That was why he'd had her; to work out all the angles ahead of time and point him in the correct direction. And this was more than a plan; this was a design, created to inflict maximum pain, maximum humiliation.

During her time with MNM, and then subsequently with Nitro, Melina had done countless hurtful, cruel, even humiliating things. But all of them had been in the service of business, and even the worst of them - even Mick Foley - couldn't touch the level of this. This was cruelty for cruelty's sake, this was sadistic - and quite frankly - it was beyond even Nitro's scope.

And for not the first time that night, the paparazzi found herself wondering if he'd had help…

Stop that! the little voice inside her commanded, and Melina felt a low rush of reassurance - this was the cold side of her speaking, the ruthless side, the aspect of her personality that stomped holes in people and walked away without a backward glance. You won't get anywhere trying to figure out HOW he did this - what matters is that he DID it, so how are YOU going to get out of it?

Think! What are your options?

Melina tried to obey, but her mind felt like a rat trapped in a maze with no exit, turning corner after corner only to find yet another dead end. She was locked in a bathroom, bound to a monster she had helped create, cut off from what few allies she possessed, separated from the man she loved–

–and worst of all, she had dragged Jeff into all this.

Tears brimmed in Melina's eyes once more, and she let them spill over her cheeks, not even wincing as the salt stung her open wounds. "I'm sorry, Jeff…" the Dominant Diva whispered. "I am so so sorry…"

"-no, sir, thank you." Nitro's voice on the other side of the door intruded on her thoughts, jarring her from the unwelcome past to the even less welcome present. She had been trying to tune the former Intercontinental Champion out - the locked door between them had proved a wonderful ally with that - but she could make out enough to grasp that he wasn't speaking to her; he was on the phone and (from that smarmy shit-eating tone in his voice) kissing someone's ass.

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh. No, absolutely. I'm calling him right now. Thank you so much - you won't regret it."

Nitro abruptly knocked on the door, startling her. "Hey, babe!" Melina didn't answer, didn't even move, trying to shrink his very presence down to the smallest sliver of her awareness. The self-proclaimed A-lister went on, as though he hadn't be expecting or wanting an answer. "Hope you've got something sexy to wear tomorrow night, because we're going to ECW!"

Another pause, and even through a door, Melina could tell he was doing it for dramatic effect. "We're getting the band back together, baby!"

The paparazzi princess felt herself frown. Band? ECW? Had Johnny finally lost the rest of his mind since coming back to the hotel room? All those questions, however, quickly coalesced into comprehension when she heard her ex-boyfriend speaking on the phone again: "Joey! My man! What's up? What?

A pause. "No, no, Mel and I are fine; we're just going through one of those rough patches - you know how women are. Look, all you saw on Raw tonight was me giving some burnout loser exactly what he deserved."

Nitro laughed, and the Dominant Diva felt a sliver of ice work its way down her spine at how soulless it sounded. "Listen, man - how quickly can you get to Buffalo?"

Jeff hit the mat spine-first with a crash, grunting as pain ratcheted up and down his already-ravaged frame. He stared up at the blinding glare of the light rig above the ring, trying to will control back into his limbs.

When he and Matt had arrived at the HSBC Arena in Buffalo that evening, they had been met personally by the ECW General Manager, who quickly whisked them away to his office.

What I'm looking for tonight… Heyman had announced in that slick, slightly pompous tone of his. …is a little friendly competition between ECW up-and-comers and tag team royalty. Because - between you and me– He leaned forward from his perch on the edge of his desk. –I'm looking to book the two of you in a tag team match this Sunday at December 2 Dismember, and I'd like your competitors to get a taste of what they're up against…

Jeff had looked over at Matt, meeting his brother's eyes in a mutual unspoken What the hell?. But after a couple of seconds, the two of them shrugged and nodded. Competition was competition, and both brothers would be lying if they said that the events of the previous night hadn't left them with some pent-up aggression.

However, he couldn't help but notice a faint avaricious gleam in the ECW GM's eyes that made him wonder if Heyman had brought them here for more than just "friendly competition". No matter how affable he might appear, the ECW founder was a salesman, a showman, and an opportunist (in that order) and any decision he made would always be primarily to benefit himself.

Things had started out okay - their opponents Elijah Burke and Slyvester Terkay were talented athletically, but a little green ring-wise, and it hadn't taken long for the brothers to take control of the match - but eventually two things began to catch up with them: the beating they had suffered at the hands of Nitro and Rated RKO, and the fact that Jeff's head was a million miles away, full of thoughts of Melina.

In the short time that they had officially been together (two weeks had it really been just two weeks since he had come to his hotel room in Manchester to find her waiting for him?) he had gotten so used to having her near him; to being able to wrap his arms around her and hold him against him and know that she was here, she was safe. To go from that to her being gone - not just gone, but violently ripped from him - it felt like half of his being had been torn away from him, leaving him numb and empty and incomplete.

So it was only inevitability coming to pass that Jeff rebounded off the ropes and ran right into a leg sweep takedown from Burke, who capitalized by immediately tagging in his partner. Terkay - who, despite the wrestling singlet they had stuffed him into, looked like he was part mountain man - followed up with a few stiff right hands with his big meaty fists, before scooping up the Charismatic Enigma and hurling him onto the mat with an impressive forward powerslam.

It was this slam that left Jeff lying on the canvas, staring up at the lights and trying to make sense of where exactly he had gone wrong. Before he could organize his thoughts into any kind of order, the mountain man had yanked him up to his feet, whipping him toward the corner.

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior hit the turnbuckle hard, whatever breath he still possessed leaving his body in one explosive PAH! His vision went gray, and in that one single moment, he saw Melina's face as it had appeared back in gorilla the night before, the lights playing over her scared and defeated expression, his voice barely audible as he struggled to make himself heard over the deafening roar of his theme music–

He will NEVER hurt you again…I won't let him…

With a gasp, the air rushed back into Jeff's lungs, and his vision cleared just in time to see Terkay hurtling toward him like a freight train. Moving more out of instinct than any sort of actual awareness, the Rainbow-Haired Warrior tumbled out of the way before he could make contact, stumbling back toward his corner of the ring and bringing his hand up to slap his brother's for the tag.

Instantly, Matt was through the ropes and in the ring, yanking the dazed mountain man out of the corner and clotheslining him back into it several times. He turned as Burke slipped into the ring to run interference, laying into the ECW superstar with right hands, whipping him across the ring. As Burke neared the ropes, Jeff grabbed hold of them and yanked them down, letting the rookie wrestler's momentum carry him out of the ring and onto the floor.

The Charismatic Enigma jumped back in the squared circle, ring instinct and rhythm taking over, pushing aside the haze and the pain. He could feel it coming over him - that synchronicity that he and Matt shared in the ring where all they had to do was exchange a look and know what the other one was thinking.

By now, Terkay had stumbled out of the corner, one hand pressed to his head. He barely had time to register that he was outnumbered before the brothers grabbed hold of his arms, whipping him into the opposite corner. Matt dropped down to his hands and knees. "Jeff!"

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior didn't hesitate - dashing across the ring and using his brother's back as a springboard, he brought his feet into the mountain man's face with Poetry in Motion. The move sent him to the canvas, but Jeff barely noticed; he was already back on his feet and climbing the turnbuckle as Matt hauled Terkay back up and brought him crashing back down with a Twist of Fate.

Jeff cocked his head to the side, eying the big man as he perched precariously on the top of the turnbuckle. For a second, the prone figure of Terkay shimmered briefly, morphing into another more familiar figure with blond-streaked hair and stupid sparkly tights…and he heard Nitro's words pounding in his ears–

You will NEVER see her again…

WIth a wordless guttural growl, the Charismatic Enigma dove off the turnbuckle, sailing through the air and landing on Terkay with a perfect Swanton Bomb. He hooked the leg, dimly feeling the vibration of the referee's hand hitting the mat.

1…2…3… And then the announcer's voice fighting for dominance over the thundering drums of their entrance music: Herrrrrrrre's your winners - Matt and Jeff - the Hardyyyyyy Boyzzzzzz!

The red haze was slowly clearing from Jeff's brain, and he allowed Matt to pull him to his feet, the pair holding their arms up in victory as the ECW crowd roared their approval.

All at once he felt it - that tingle in the base of his skull, a remnant of that pre-evolutionary atavistic sixth sense that once alerted us to predators. Jeff felt his skin prickle up into goosebumps, and was just about to turn to Matt to ask if he felt it too when an elbow slammed into the back of his neck.

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior collapsed to the mat, dizziness swarming over his brain. He could sense someone above him, could feel blows raining down on him, but he was too stunned and senseless to defend himself. With a colossal effort, Jeff forced his eyes open, forced himself to focus on the face of his attacker. At first, all he saw was blurs and streams of color, then gradually those sharpened into an outline haloed by the bright ring of lights…and then finally, into the handsome bruised features and crazed eyes of Johnny Nitro.

The Charismatic Enigma's emerald irises widened. "You–" That was all he got out before the self-proclaimed A-lister's fist crashed into his jaw. Jeff's head bounced sickeningly off the canvas, and he swore he felt some of his teeth wobble in his gums.

From his limited vantage point, he could see his brother a few feet away in a prone position, trying to protect himself as another man nailed him with stomps. Jeff squinted blearily, wondering why that guy looked vaguely familiar and why he was wearing the same stupid sparkly tights as Nitro. Then, all of a sudden, it came to him - Nitro's tag team partner, the one he had ditched before coming over to Raw. What was his name - it was something equally dumb–

"Mercury!" At the sound of his partner's voice, the strange figure looked back at Nitro, nailed Matt with one final kick that knocked him under the ropes and out of the ring, then came over and grabbed Jeff, hauling him to his knees and restraining his arms behind his back. Jeff's head was still bowed, his chin bouncing against his chest, and he sucked in a wad of spit, preparing to launch it back into that pretty boy's face as soon as he got too close.

And then he heard it. The primal scream; a shrill shriek that went on and on and on. The Charismatic Enigma felt shivers run down his spine - not because of its piercing quality, but because he recognized it. After all…how many times had he heard that scream at ringside during his one-on-one bouts with Johnny Nitro?

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior swallowed hard, lifting his head, the word escaping from him in a shocked murmur: "Princess?"

A few feet away from the three of them, Melina stood on the bottom rope, holding onto the top one with both hands as she leaned over. She wore a short black skirt and a revealing black-and-white striped top, hair swept glamorously back from her face, and other than puffiness around one of her eyes, the makeup artist had done one hell of a job covering up her injuries. But it wasn't just the sight of her - here, all right, within reach - that stole the air from Jeff's lungs; it was the look on her face.

Gone was the woman he loved, the woman who had risked everything to be with him. In her place, wearing her face and screaming in her voice, was the harpy, the banshee who sabotaged his title matches, the arrogant Diva who looked down her nose at him while she and Nitro gloated about what a loser he was.

And in his mind, Jeff felt something finally snap and give way as his reality - off-kilter and precariously balanced already - tumbled off its axis and down into the abyss…

Nitro was looming above him now, nailing him with lefts and rights, punctuating his blows with words. "I told you, Hardy," the self-proclaimed A-lister gloated. "I told you that you were in for a world of pain." He kicked Jeff in the gut, causing the Charismatic Enigma to double over, gagging. "This is your own fault - you should have just left us alone; crawled back into your hole and died."

He grabbed Jeff's chin, forcing the younger Hardy brother to look up at him. "So just so you know - everything that comes next…well, you brought it on yourself."

Jeff could barely hear him; his body was shutting down, growing cold. If Melina was gone, then nothing made sense. And if nothing made sense, then there was no point. And if there was no point…then Nitro was right - he might as well crawl into a hole and die.

The Charismatic Enigma felt himself floating, welcoming the notion of oblivion - how much worse could death be when he had already gone straight to hell?

Nitro paused finally, and the Rainbow-Haired Warrior thought that the beating had finally ended. But it proved to be merely an intermission, as the former Intercontinental Champion motioned to his tag team partner. Mercury stood, forcing Jeff to his feet.

The self-proclaimed A-lister rose also, eyeing his rival with contempt. "You honestly thought that she would leave me for you? You're a loser, and it's time you start losing things - starting with that has-been brother of yours." He gave Jeff a long measured look. "You want to know who Heyman booked against at December 2 Dismember? Well…you're looking at them."

His mouth twitched, curling up into a sneer. "And Hardy?" Without tearing his eyes away from the Charismatic Enigma, he nodded back toward Melina. "This time - the odds are back in my favor."

Jeff stared back at him, unable to speak, the breath tearing out of his lungs in ragged gasps. His emerald irises, dull and dazed, slid to the side, taking in one last look at Melina.

As he did, the Dominant Diva's gaze shifted, her dark eyes meeting his, and her entire face changed. The haughty mask of scorn and contempt fell away completely, and all that was left was the woman he loved; fear, pain, concern, love radiating from her beautiful features. He could see tears glistening in her eyes.

Her lips moved, mouthing words only he could see: I'm so sorry…I love you…

In that moment, in spite of all the pain, the fatigue, the worry, Jeff felt his chest ease. It didn't matter what came after this because she was still his. And as long as she was his, he would never stop fighting. As long as there was breath in his body, he would fight to bring her back–

Then Nitro's boot crashed into the side of his head, and for the second time in two days, the Charismatic Enigma knew only darkness.