Hunter arrived at the hospital right behind the ambulance
thanks to some nameless stagehand. He didn't remember who it
was, or even if it had been a man or a woman. Still, he
thanked them from the bottom of his heart, because if he'd
stayed back at the arena for even another minute, he would
have killed Bischoff. How dare the slimy fucker imply that
he would beat Shawn like this? Pedigreeing him in the ring
was one thing -- Shawn had the training to take it without
being seriously injured -- but using his head to smash a
hole in a car window? He could have a skull fracture, a
concussion, maybe even brain damage. He might want to pound
some sense into the Texan's head, but hurt him? Not in this
lifetime.

Some idiot got in his way as he headed into the emergency
room, but at least he was smart enough to get out of the way
as soon as he got a good look at Hunter's face. Hunter just
ignored him as he looked around for someone who looked like
they might be in charge. He wanted answers, and he wanted
them now.

"Yes?"

The frosty question came from a woman in a nurse's uniform.
Unlike the stereotype, though, she was tall -- nearly as
tall as Hunter -- with black hair, native features, and a
slim build, Hunter could probably break her in two without
trying, but the expression on her face told him he better
not.

"Shawn Michaels. He was just brought in. Where is he?"

The nurse stood in his way, her hands on her hips. "He's
with the doctors now, and before you ask, no, you cannot go
back there."

"Listen--" Hunter said, stepping forward with his finger
raised to point at her, but she didn't shift an inch.

"When the doctor is done and Mr. Michaels is admitted for
observation, he will be asked if he wants to see you. If he
says yes, you will be taken to his room. Until then, sit
down or leave."

Hunter's jaw tightened, but the nurse's expression told him
that the only thing he would get by protesting was the boot,
although he'd like to see the hospital security try. He
snarled under his breath, then spun around and found an
empty seat. One kid over in the corner was staring at him
with an awed expression, but he ignored him. He stretched
his legs out, crossed at the ankles, crossed his arms over
his chest, leaned back and glowered. He was not leaving
until he saw Shawn. Until he was sure that Shawn was going
to be all right.

Shit. How the hell could anyone do that? Sure, Shawn could
be an annoying shit, but this was beyond teaching him a
lesson. This was trying to put him out of commission
permanently, maybe even kill him. Hunter throat tightened
up. Damnit, if he'd just gone to meet the man in the parking
lot like Shawn had asked, instead of letting Bischoff
maneuver him into that whole ring confrontation, Shawn
wouldn't be in this position. They would have talked, and
Shawn would have accepted the position as his manager. But
no, after screwing it up last week with his high and mighty
attitude, the new GM of RAW had made it even worse by
insisting that Hunter had to convince Shawn publicly, out in
the ring, instead of out of sight, on their own, where
Hunter could have sweet-talked him into playing ball. And if
Shawn didn't play ball, Bischoff would see to it that he
never worked in the pro-wrestling world again, and Hunter
knew that wrestling was Shawn's life.

"Any word?"

Hunter looked up to find Big Show and Jeff Hardy standing
next to him, both men attracting a lot of attention; one for
his size and the other for the green hair and tattoos.
"Nothing," he said sourly. "What are they saying back at the
arena?"

Jeff shifted his weight from side to side, not quite meeting
Hunter's eyes. "Well, people have come up with a bunch of
theories, but there's three main ones. One lot think you
beat Shawn up, no matter what you said to Eric, or got
someone else to do it for you. Another lot say Eric arranged
it because Shawn blew him off last week. Third group say
that someone did it because they think it'll get them in
good with either you or Eric, but hasn't fessed up."

Hunter leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.
"Shit. 'Bout what I figured," he said. People actually
thought that he could do this. Fuck.

"Hey, don't get too down. There are even a few who think *I*
did it, 'cause Shawn ignored me earlier," Show said in that
slow voice of his.

Hunter sat up and frowned at the man. "What?" Show was big,
and he was a tough opponent in the ring, but outside of it,
he was a softy. Everyone knew that

Show shrugged. "I wanted to talk to him about something, but
all he was interested in was finding you. Sure, I didn't
like it, but I know Shawn. He didn't mean anything by it. He
was just worried."

"Me, my money is on Booker and Goldust," Jeff said.
"Booker's got it real bad for Shawn, ever since Shawn
superkicked him. Doesn't care that it was on Vince's orders.
And both of them were right there when you reached Shawn.
Booker wasn't wearing his shirt either. Like maybe he had to
ditch it because it had blood on it?"

Hunter growled low in his throat. "If it *was* him, he
better run fast, 'cause I'll rip him apart," Hunter said,
clenching his hands into fists, then relaxing them.

"Mr. Helmsley?"

Hunter stood up as the nurse from before came over. "Yes?"

Her eyes were wary, but she nodded. "Mr. Michaels is about
to be moved to his room for the night. You can see him when
he gets there."

"How is he?" Hunter asked, drawing in a deep breath, then
letting it out.

"Actually, very lucky. There's no skull fracture, and his
neck -- I understand he has a history of neck and back
injuries? -- looks to be fine. He has a severe concussion,
so he'll have to be watched overnight to make sure he
doesn't slip into a coma. He did need several stitches for
the cuts on his forehead, though. But he should be fine."

For a moment, Hunter's knees went week. Shawn was going to
be all right. "Where is he?" he finally asked.

She gave them directions, and Hunter got to the room just as
they were wheeling Shawn in. His eyes were open, but they
looked glazed. His face was pale under his normal tan, and
the bandages on his head were almost painfully white. Hunter
waited at the door, trying not to fidget, while the injured
man was transferred from the gurney to the bed, then the
gurney was wheeled away again, leaving the two of them alone
in the room.

"How ya feeling?" Hunter asked, feeling more than a little
nervous.

"Like I ran into a brick wall," Shawn said. "You?"

Hunter laughed bitterly. "Pretty damned awful," he admitted.
"You scared the shit out of me."

Shawn frowned. "I scared *you*?"

Hunter glanced around and found a chair. He pulled it up to
the side of the bed and sat down. "Yeah. You were..." He
swallowed hard. "And then, when they were loading you in the
ambulance, that piece of crap, Bischoff, had the gall to
start congratulating him. He actually believed that *I*
would do this."

"You didn't?"

The confused question was like a slap in the face. "Shawn?"

"I don't remember anything. The doctors say that's normal."
Shawn touched the bandage over his forehead, and winced.

"You don't remember who did this?"

"Nothing. I thought... I left a message for you to meet me
out there."

Hunter shook his head violently. Shawn actually thought he
was capable of doing this? "Bischoff said no. Ordered me to
call you down to the ring. I wanted to talk backstage but he
said he would... Aw, crap, Shawn. We fight, and stuff, but I
would never hurt you. Not like this." He reached out and
touched the other man's arm, very lightly, then let his hand
drop back.

"And last week?" Shawn's eyes were pained, and not just from
the injury, Hunter could see.

Hunter closed his eyes in embarrassment. "That was me being
pissed off. After jumping through hoops to get Bischoff to
agree to letting you be my manager---"

"Whoa," Shawn said, trying to sit up. Hunter jumped up and
pushed Shawn back down. Shawn fought him for a moment, then
relaxed back into the mattress again. "What do you mean,
hoops?"

"Stephanie wasn't willing to let you move over to SmackDown,
so I agreed to sign with Bischoff, as long as you were
there. He wanted to fire you, now that the NWO is gone."
Actually Stephanie's language at the suggestion had been
downright foul, and Bischoff's had been nearly as bad, but
the man had already gone on record claiming that he was
going to get Hunter, and that was the price Hunter had
named.

"He said... I thought he was pushing it on you. The way he
talked... I thought you didn't want it." Shawn's troubled
expression was starting to ease.

Hunter shook his head. "Hell, no. Shit, Shawn, who else
would I want at my back? Even after that ultimatum shit you
guys tried to pull," he added with a wry smile.

"Then why didn't you just say so?" Shawn said sarcastically.
"If not then, then when you tracked me down backstage
later?"

"Because I'm a moron who can't see his own nose," Hunter
admitted. "Because my pride was hurt."

Shawn snorted softly. "Quite the pair, aren't we. I let Kev
try to blackmail you into joining up with the NWO, you let
Bischoff try to strong-arm me. And where does it get us?
Vince fires Kev and ships Sean off to the farm leagues
'cause he doesn't like it when the wrestlers get too
organized, and I end up here."

"Yeah, we are a pair." Hunter reached out and took Shawn's
hand. "I missed you," he said, trying to put all of his
feelings into his voice. "Even when Stephanie had me dancing
to her tune, I missed you. I want you back. Will you sign up
as my manager?"

Shawn's hand turned in his to squeeze it. "Is that all you
want me to be?" he asked, his heart on his sleeve. Hunter's
grip tightened.

Hunter could hear the pain in the question, and he knew it
was his fault. He'd let Stephanie trick him into a marriage,
and then she'd used threats to keep him faithful. As Daddy's
Little Princess, she had a lot more power than he did in the
organization. He'd pushed Shawn away without an explanation,
blowing one of the best relationships he'd ever had, and now
here he was, hoping Shawn would take him back. "I'm
selfish," he said. "I screwed it all away, and now I want it
back. *All* of it. But I promise, Shawn, this time no one is
going to get in my way. You and me, all the way. The only
person who can say no is you."

Shawn was silent for so long that Hunter started to worry.
Then he smiled sadly. "Since when have I ever said no to
you?"

Hunter breathed a sigh of relief, then grinned. He raised
Shawn's hand had brushed his lips across the back. "All the
way," he promised again, and he swore that this time he
would keep that promise.

Shawn nodded, then closed his eyes, lines of pain clear on
his face.

Hunter stayed where he was, holding Shawn's hand. At a soft
sound, he looked up to see Jeff and Show standing at the
door. Jeff was grinning, and Show gave him a big thumbs up.
Then they disappeared, probably heading back to the hotel.

Hunter settled back, planning on staying until he was thrown
out -- and it would take a lot to throw him out of that
room. From his own experiences with concussions, he knew
that Shawn wouldn't be allowed to sleep more than an hour at
a time, to make sure he didn't slip into a coma, and he
wanted to make sure that he didn't wake without a friendly
face there. Besides, after all this time, he didn't want to
leave. He had Shawn back, and God help whoever tried to take
him away, because no one else would be able to. The
wrestling entertainment business would have to wait until
tomorrow for him.

"Get well fast," he whispered to the sleeping man. "And then
we'll show Bischoff just how in control he really is."

And in the meantime, he was going to find out who had done
this, and make sure that they were never capable of trying
again.

THE END