A/N: If you haven't listened to Metallica's "Unforgiven" trilogy while thinking of Kane, you're missing out. Seriously, those songs are so good for this character that if I didn't know any better, I'd say they were written specifically for him.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction using characters from World Wrestling Entertainment. I do not claim ownership of these characters or the universes they inhabit. This story is written purely to entertain and is not intended to be read as canon. All rights to their respective owners.
So I Dub Thee
Winter is setting in, and the basement has moved from cold to frigid.
He huddles under his moth-eaten blanket, breath ghosting out from behind his unkempt hair. He always keeps his face hidden, nowadays. He's seen the way Paul tries so hard not to cringe when he catches a glimpse of the scars. It makes Kane feel worse than if Paul would just flinch openly.
He's too tired to shiver. His fingers are numb as they fist in the too-thin fabric of his shirt. Hugging himself doesn't help with the cold. It doesn't help with much of anything, really. But he does it anyway.
Slowly, he starts to rock back and forth, head bowed low over his knees.
Around the corner and up the stairs, the door opens. Light floods down the stairwell, a tantalizing pulse of warm air. Then the door shuts, and the dark and the chill descend back upon him as heavy footsteps creak their way down the stairs.
Paul calls out for him in his soft voice, and now Kane does shiver.