Please accept a million apologies from me. Firstly, I forgot to say sorry for setting up the whole HBK angle with the sisters and then making Heather get hurt. That wasn't really my initial plan, but while I do outline major plot points, sometimes the in-between or getting from point A to point B is anybody's guess. I know it's sort of a cop-out, but in this instance, I couldn't plausibly or logically have Kev and Heather circling each other for another month with what I want to do. Sorry for that!

Second, ugh, I don't know why I tell of my impending plans. They never pan out for me. T_T This was supposed to be a short scene at the beginning of the chapter. Now, it expanded into a whole chapter itself. So we're STILL not where I want to be and obviously, I didn't make my goal. I got stalled because a certain character (not naming names) was trying to take things in a direction they were not scheduled to go yet and had to be reigned in. XD Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this a little. Yeah, it's short because it was supposed to be. :P

Thanks, to Idcam. It's bizarre but your comment about Heather running to Kev made me think of an episode of Spongebob where Pearl tells Mr. Krabbs she's going to run away and find a new daddy. XD Yeah, I'm strange.

Also, thanks to Ember. I know what you mean! I love Taker too. He's definitely one of my all-time faves, but if Heather wasn't there, Kev probably would have hit him. Not gonna lie.

Heather had been fortunate in the sense that she had only suffered a Grade 1 ankle sprain. It was the least serious grade of injury she could incur with minor damage. Only requiring rest with minimal activity as to not agitate the muscles, a compress to keep the swelling down, and ice if need be.

Heather had been somewhat surprised by that diagnosis as the pain felt much more severe. Perhaps it was the heightened sense of mortification or the fear of repercussions from either her father, Mr. McMahon, or both that seemed to increase the pain. Although her injury was minuscule, Mr. McMahon had grudgingly decided to write her off of television for the next three to four weeks - or at least until she healed, whichever came first. Such were the plans for the current storyline she was involved in, thwarted due to her mishap. That consensus didn't dishearten Heather in the slightest - except where it pertained to one person in particular. Heather hadn't even been afforded the opportunity to thank him for his assistance to her and she found that dismaying.

No matter. It would be just a few weeks, she reassured herself, ignoring the yearning tugging at her heart.

Presently Heather was sitting on the bed inside the hotel room she shared with Reves. Her foot and ankle were wrapped in a compress and elevated by a few pillows to improve circulation. She was reading while her father was busy at the local gym and Reves was holed up taking a shower in the bathroom. She was having a difficult time concentrating on her tale. The tome, Atlas Shrugged, felt weighty in her hands, more so than merely due to its substantial size. This was actually her second time reading through the over one thousand page epic. Reves had called her nuts (in a less polite term) for such an undertaking, not once but twice. Heather normally welcomed the enterprise as it kept her occupied for a lengthy duration, but not in this instance.

Heather suddenly gave a start when there was an unanticipated knock on the door. She didn't know who would be coming to call on them at this time. Perhaps they would simply return later? No sooner than she had the thought the knock came again. "Reves," she called. "Rev! Someone is at the door." No response from her sister. Heather deduced that she could not hear her due to the stream of the shower and the din of music she had playing. It wasn't as if projecting were a proclivity of hers, at any rate.

Heaving a sigh, Heather set the mammoth tome aside and slid off the bed as carefully as possible. She grabbed the pair of crutches that Rob had given her and placed her weight on her left leg. She was to be resting as often as possible these next few days, but she still had to maneuver around until she would be back home in Houston later that evening. This had better not be a futile endeavor, Heather thought as she dragged herself towards the door with the aid of her metal supports. She did not find herself in the most pleasant disposition following everything that had happened the previous night. Balancing on her uninjured foot and her crutches, Heather reached for the door and with a degree of effort, slowly opened it a few inches wide.

Heather had not been anticipating the individual standing there before her. Frankly, in spite of everything that had happened, he was the last person she predicted she would see on the other side of that door. He stood there, towering over her as she timidly took him in. His warm hazel eyes seemed to smile as they fixed on her. His long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. The sleeveless shirt he wore exposed the strapping muscles of his brawny arms. Arms that had rescued her from every ill-fated predicament she had endured during her time there and held her gently in their strong embrace. The very sight of him robbed the breath from her lungs and sent her heart racing into palpitations at warp speed. She gawked up at him, struggling to find the courage for a simple greeting.

Staring down at her crutches, he asked in a feigned reprimand, "Little One, what the hell are you doing?" although he was elated to see her.

"Well, I…you were knocking on the door," she deadpanned. It was probably the most direct response she had ever given him.

"I was, wasn't I?" He smirked down at her. "Is Mark around?" he questioned suddenly, eyes scanning the room as he peered into it. He could hear some metal music playing from the bathroom, which clearly had to be Reves.

He hadn't expected Heather to be up dragging herself around. In the same token, he would have been in deep shit had Mark or even Reves answered the door. He realized his plan of action was anything but wise, yet his urge to see her before her departure was so consuming, it clouded his judgment. He'd definitely have to use more caution in the future.

He was inquiring after her father. Heather strived not to appear as crestfallen as she felt. "He is at the gym. H-he should return in approximately fifteen or twenty m-minutes," she informed him in a meek voice, her anxious stammer returning.

He looked pleased by that answer. "Good. How are you doing, Little One?"

She was wearing that endearing glow that made her oh, so adorable. "A-about as well as one would anticipate, I suppose." Heather opened up the door a little farther and caught sight of a bouquet of dazzling, violet-colored blooms. She smiled towards them in her reserved manner. "Bearded Iris," she recognized. "They are quite lovely," she stated in a delicate tone.

Kevin had been so preoccupied gazing at her lovely visage, he had completely forgotten that he'd been holding the bunch of flowers and now felt like a damn stooge. Regardless, he offered them up, holding them out towards her. Blinking, she cocked her head and gaped at the blooms as if they were of an alien species. The expression on her face did little to assure his confidence or his ego. Maybe this had been a stupid idea. He wasn't typically in the business of spending copious amounts of money on things that were going to wither and die within a week.

She continued her fixation on them for another few moments. Then her sparkling emeralds drifted to gaze languidly up at him. "Th-those are….for me?" her voice was meek and almost breathless, a puzzled expression painting her features. She hadn't even made the correlation that they were intended for her until he had presented them.

The goliath shrugged his massive shoulders and smiled. "Well, a huge dude like me doesn't normally make a habit of carrying around a bunch of dainty flowers for no good reason," Kevin jested as he held them closer towards her.

Eyes trained upon him, Heather reached out tentatively to retrieve the flowers from his grasp. Her nimble fingers softly grazed his own as she received them. It sent that growingly familiar electricity from her fingertips, shooting up the length of her arm, straight to her heart.

Kevin watched Heather as she cradled them gently in her arms like a precious and fragile infant. She stared at them for a moment and then averted her gaze upon him, a glassy reflection in her eyes. "Thank you," she murmured graciously as if she had never been given anything in her entire life. Kevin knew this to be untrue as he was well aware as austere and aloof that Mark was, he would give her just about any material thing her heart desired.

With relief, he felt validated that the flowers were not such a stupid idea after all and he was certain had it been even one single flora, she would have reacted in exactly the same manner. She was so starved for true affection and attention he may very well have handed her the moon and stars in her eyes. Her humility both broke and warmed his heart. "Irises are among some of my favorite perennials. H-how did you…" her voice trailed off as she was left speechless.

He peered down at her, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. "I saw them on a bookmark you had and I guessed that was probably so. I hoped maybe they'd make you feel better," he confessed.

Heather noticed her heart clench. He was speaking of the day in the catering area that he has been inquiring after Scott. Even as she avoided him, he took in these subtle details and committed them to memory. The realization was enough to knock the air from her lungs. To keep the tears forming in her eyes, she began to speak, spouting off her expertise as a defense mechanism, "Irises are christened after the Greek goddess whose name is derived from the term for a rainbow, which is quite fitting as they come in an array of colors. Iris was known as the messenger between Heaven, the Underworld, and Earth." She paused a moment before continuing. "The purple variety, such as these, represent royalty and wisdom. The Fleur-de-lis, an emblem of the French monarchy was modeled after it. Several of the motifs were destroyed during the French Revolution, as you may imagine."

"I'm sure guillotine day was not a good one for old Loui," Kevin quipped somewhat darkly as he referred to the eighteenth-century king.

Heather's face was painted with a stunned expression before a subtle smile played on her lips. "Did you know the blossoms themselves contain little to no fragrance? It's all concentrated at the roots. Even still, it takes six years of aging to reach maturity for extraction. It is quite the labor of love and patience if I do say so myself," her eyes were downcast for some reason as she spoke. After a few moments, she lifted her gaze to him again, raising the bouquet up towards him the way a child might. As she did so, her balance became precarious and she nearly toppled over.

"Woah. Careful, Little One. You'll hurt yourself even more," he lectured as he moved into the room and grabbed a hold of her tiny body in order to stabilize her. She peered up at him timidly, and Kevin shook his head, scolding himself for being such a jackass by allowing her to stand there for so long.

His self-reprimanding ended when they heard the shower in the bathroom cut off. Heather glanced at the door cautiously then her gaze shifted back to him. "Reves," she stated plainly.

Nash rolled his eyes at the very utterance of the girl's name. "Guess that's my cue to split," he said offhandedly. If Reves exited the bathroom and saw him she would probably raise hell on the simple premise that she could. And if Mark caught wind...he'd probably know exactly how Loui felt, the poor bastard.

Heather silently lowered her head. She was certain that was for the best, but she couldn't contain the dejected emotions that washed over her. She wished for him to remain there with her. She knew it wasn't tenable - foolish even, but she sensed a wanting that she couldn't rationalize, nor could she comprehend. "M-my apologies, I…I've never taken the opportunity to express my gratitude for the benefit of your aid to me," she murmured shaking her head. Every single instance, she thought. She fell silent for another moment. "A..are you going to be disciplined?" she inquired in a concerned fashion, recalling Mr. McMahon's threats of suspension and a fine.

Grinning, he shook his head. Her question was wholly innocent, but it still threw his body on edge. Fuck. If you want me to be, Little One, he had to stop himself from uttering. He wouldn't mind possibly being disciplined- by her of course. Not Vince. He shuttered inwardly at the thought. Damn. He really was getting as bad as Kid.

She was still staring towards the ground when Kevin's hand came up under her chin, lifting her face towards him. He observed her dismal expression as she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

Before she could register what was transpiring, he descended upon her, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that detonated her heart like napalm. This imposing man had captured her lips in a firm yet supple connection, that left her defenseless. She had been so unassuming that she nearly lost her balance while her only useful leg buckled at the knee. If not for Kevin's firm grasp holding her steady, she was certain she would have found herself crashing to the floor.

Just as Kevin was beginning to pull away, Heather leaned into him, responding in her own timid manner. It was like a welcomed punch to the heart and against his better judgment, he returned to the kiss for another moment or two, slightly deeper and more fervent than before.

Once he did reluctantly separate from her, pulling away unhurriedly, she released a faint whimper of protest that thrust his body to the brink of desire. For a fleeting moment, he was seized by the impulse to carry her straight to the bed and love her exactly as she needed to be, even if she had yet to understand it.

Grasping her face in his hands, his thumbs tenderly caressed the porcelain skin of her cheeks as he appraised the glowing blush that lit her face with a delicate heat. "Let's consider that one paid in full, shall we?" he murmured in a low timbre. His visage still hovering just inches above, she stared up at him, mystified. His ego played a big role here, no doubt, yet he couldn't help but relish the fact that she was looking at him like he really had been the one responsible for the moon and the stars. Her breathing slightly erratic, she said nothing but shook her head faintly. "It's not gonna be the same without you around, Little One," Kevin told her. "Heal up quick, okay?" He wished he was afforded more time with her, but at least they were both left with something. He winked at her and turned to leave, a semi-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

In her elation, Heather closed the door with more force than intended, inadvertently slamming it shut. Grinning broadly, she turned to see Reves had emerged from the bathroom. The next instant, fear seized her as she questioned how much - if anything - that Reves had seen. Reves did not appear to be any the wiser, but that didn't negate the suspicious glare she was sending.

"What are you doing standing in the middle of the room, grinning like an idiot?" Her eyes widened, as they zeroed in on the bouquet in the younger girl's hand. "And where the hell did you get those from?" she demanded.

The grin had long since faded from Heather's visage, leaving only apprehension and doubt. "I...i-it was the g-guys..." Heather did her best to convey aplomb, but she was an atrocious liar and Reves knew that.

"The guys? Really?" Reves arched an eyebrow at her sister. Heather never used slang terms in reference to people. Just in case her panicked expression was not telling enough that blew her little fib wide open, but she continued nevertheless, "And who exactly are these guys?"

"Y-yes. Sh-shawn and K-kid and Paul and..." Her voice dropped off there, her breath catching in her lungs when she thought of him. She could feel her face ignite and she cursed herself for it.

Reves's eyes narrowed. "Nash-hole?" she inquired resentfully as she watched the unusual reaction that flickered across her sister's face. "Let me see these things," Reves commanded as she snatched the bouquet from her sister's limp grasp. She glanced them over as if looking for something. A card, perhaps? She appeared disgruntled to find nothing of the sort. "Huh! They don't even smell like anything," she stated after bringing them to her nose.

"That is because the fragrance-"

Reves didn't let Heather finish before she shoved the bundle back at her. "You better get back on the bed before Old Man Calaway comes back and sees you up hobbling around. He'll think you faked it and he'll have a damn aneurysm." Reves then eyed her dubiously. "Did you fake it?"

"Of course not! Please, do not be absurd," Heather retorted as she threw herself back on the bed. Her face contorted in discomfort. Her injured ankle was enough to contend with, but the other now felt weary from employing all of her weight on it.

When Mark returned, he too questioned the flowers. Heather blanched, uncertain that she could bluff her father, even if she wished to. "Amy and the boys brought those by," Reves interjected, glancing up furtively from her sketchpad which she was drawing in. She didn't look at Heather as that would tip off Daddy Dearest, but she could feel the other girl's incredulous stare fixed on her.

Heather was staring at her sister in astonishment. That was the second instance that she had substituted their friends in a predicament that involved these notorious men. Granted, the first time was most assuredly to conceal her own culpability. Heather had to wonder how just it was to their three friends to place that sort of accountability upon them.

Mark glared at the girl, not fully buying what she was trying to sell. Those three didn't seem the type to do something like that. Then again, they were just fucking weird, and sometimes you'd never know what they would do. Dismissing the thoughts for the moment, Mark commanded, "C'mon, let's get ready to go. The flight is comin' up soon. I don't wanna be late."

Heather furtively acknowledged her father. To say she was disenchanted with his deportment as of late would be an understatement. However, she knew it wasn't her place to make such determinations. She clutched the flowers that she had yet to release as though they were a lifeline. Looking down at them, a yearning ache had bloomed in her chest once again and she was suddenly more dismayed by her impending absence than she was relieved.

Hope that was ok! Still grinding. See ya next time.