Out Of The Shadows

Shawn stood there watching and listening to Owen's words, the extreme contempt that he had for him dying slowly with each heartfelt word. As a man, you can't really blame a guy for doing what he got to do to keep his job and survive. That's what this business was all about--survival. Everyday you had to either fight to stay on top or claw your way to get there, which was exactly what Owen was doing. Still, he didn't appreciate this happening without some kind of heads up. Vince McMahon knew full well that while he may have bitched on several ocassions, never in the history of being employed to him, has he ever flat out refused to carry out McMahon's orders. Maybe he would say no and bitch for hours but at the end of the day, if Vince pulled him to the side and said we're doing something a certain way, he'd angrily do it and do it perfectly.

Shawn shook his head, stepping away from Owen and away from eyes that were fucking with him. "Ya'll could have fucking warned me ya know. I don't get very many breaks and you're lucky its only busted. My nose--fuck all of my body has been aching to the point where I could just fucking cry sometimes but I don't. I suck it up and deal with it because no one else gives a damn and I'm not handing anyone my spot, that includes you oh noble little brother of Bretty."

He hoisted the belt of his shoulder, the pain in his right shoulder excruciating but he kept a straight face. "Whatever. I guess I'm stuck handing another Hart his ass verbally for the next couple of weeks. Gee. Thanks a lot, but I get it. I really do." He turned to leave then paused, looking back with a frown. "Anything else you'd like to tell me so I can be prepared to get my ass handed to me next time? Or is this your way of saying, 'fuck you, you screwed my brother so who gives a damn what you want' kinda thing?

Owen shook his head at Shawn.

"No, it's just me doin' an angle, Shawn. I already told ya I didn't have any problem with you. I don't wanna take your belt either. It doesn't really mean much anyway, does it?" He motioned towards the strap. "It's just...a piece of leather with some cheap shiny on it. It doesn't measure a man, just how well he wears a mask for those people out there. And yeah, I am Bret's little brother, but I am also my own man. I like it better when people just call me Owen, 'cause that's who I am. I'm not Bret." On some sort of automatic impulse, he reached out and wiped a bit of the blood away from Shawn's nose. "And I do care. Sorry I busted your nose. On a...better note...at least it hasn't swelled as big as mine."

Shawn's instinct led him to jerk away, holding his hands up. "Look...don't. I don't want or need anyone to care...at least not you anyway." He lowered the belt staring down at the piece of tin. "This shouldn't measure a man, but...it does. At least for me."

He went quiet for a moment as his fingers lightly ghosted over the little dents and such on the belt. "Having this belt," he said quietly, "reminds me that all of the shit I'm going through wasn't in vain and this belt, well, it forces people to give me respect. Unlike your family Hart, no one was eager to push me to greatness and no one treats me like they treated your brother. Even after I won this belt, I still couldn't get the respect I craved and the kind of attention I wanted."

He looked up, shaking his head. "Fuck this is weird. I need a drink. See ya in the ring. I'll be sure to verbally rape you as much as possibly since ya know, its for your career." He bowed, though it was more mockingly than anything before he left Owen to look for Hunter. He needed to hit the bar hard tonight and find someone to fuck him until he passed out. Yeah. Perfect way to end a shit day.

Owen made his way back to his hotel room and crawled into bed. Sleep seemed like the best thing right now, but two hours later it proved to be an elusive luxury. The bed was noisy, it creaked loudly with the slightest movement, and it was quite possibly broken. The sheets were scratchy and smelled strange, and the pillows were flat. Owen was the type of person who could usually sleep on anything, even a plain old floor if it came down to it, but this just wasn't working. He still had a lot on his mind, and although he had many friends on the roster, he missed the close camaraderie of his family. They were always having a good time, pulling ribs on one another, keeping each other sane...this was not fun times. Owen hated the negativity, the tension that was so thick backstage, in the locker room, in everything. Being a part of the roster as it was right now was like living in the middle of a powder keg that was in danger of blowing at any moment.

Lack of sleep found him at a bar just down the street, not so much for purposes of drinking, but more for finding a group to chill out with and have a good time. He tried his best, firing off his usual brand of humor and silliness, but the conversation all too soon turned back to Shawn. Why couldn't they all just stop? They dropped their voices to hushed tones and said horrible things about Shawn, things he didn't deserve being said about him--and especially not behind his back.

Owen tried to turn the conversation to other topics again and again, but they weren't having it. The straw that broke Owen's patience and good nature with them was when one of them called Shawn a whore. The others followed suit with other interchangeable but just as terrible terms for him. They spoke of Shawn as though completely disgusted, and yet these were the same men who lusted for him and fucked him with their eyes or their dicks as often as they had the chance to. It was repulsive, all of it was. Owen shoved his chair back from the table and glared irately around the group of men who had gone quiet. They were too stupid to understand why he wasn't enjoying the conversation as much as the rest of them.

None of them questioned him, however, when he left the table without a word and relocated to a corner near the back of the bar. From his new found seat, Owen quietly watched the various bar patrons. One of those, was Shawn.

Shawn was well aware that all eyes were on him, but just like every other night he hit the bar, he really couldn't give two flying fucks, even if one of the guys constantly chancing glances at him was his best friend. Annoyed, Shawn dropped his shot glass on the table, looking over at Hunter irritably. "For the love of God, if the old man even exists, can you please stop fucking looking at me like that? I'm not gonna drop dead after a few shots of Jack."

Hunter looked away, staring down at his own glass on watered down Coke. "I just...worry about you is all. This...what you're doing to yourself Shawn isn't good. It's like you aren't even you anymore," he said quietly, looking back at Shawn with that same, pained expression that very few seemed to wear when looking at the man before him.

Shawn rolled his eyes, pouring another shot. "Look, when you're WWE Champion or Intercontinental Champion then tell me its not good to drink but until you've felt pain like I'm feeling right now, then fuck off. I'm fine." He looked past Hunter at the table full of of coworkers, one of them being Owen. He scowled, reminded momentarily of the night they spent together.

Hunter looked up following Shawn's eyes to the table. They both watched Owen leave and then came the obvious glances their way, a few of the guys openly wriggling their tongues at them laughing and making no effort to hide what they were looking for later. Hunter turned away. "Shawn, ignore them. Maybe that's why Owen left because he's never been one to hang around a buncha douche bags."

Shawn shrugged, finishing that shot and starting on his next one, his fourth for the night. "Why would I care what Hart junior does or who he hangs with? He's the enemy remember?"

"Shawn..." Hunter sighed. "You've had enough." Hunter tried to take the bottle but Shawn jerked his hand back.

"Go. Get the fuck away from me tonight Hunter," he snapped. "I've had a very long night and I deserve to get shitfaced."

"You get shitfaced enough," he mumbled, but knowing Shawn would make a scene, he got up from the bar. "Listen, don't...you don't have to keep doing this. I care about you. Joanie--all the guys--we care. We can't stand to--"

"Save it for Oprah Hunter," he snapped, cutting him off. "Just go. I can find my way back just fine." Shawn waited for Hunter to start shooting off at the mouth again but when he didn't Shawn knew he too angry to stick around which was fine with him. Hunter could never stay too mad at him anyway because he knew Hunter carried some childish fantasy of being in love with him or some bullshit. The thought made him laugh since right now, Hunter was his best friend and just a means to get off now if he really needed.

Shawn let his eyes scope the bar looking around for anyone who could finish the job for the night. The table of guys where Owen was last seen was quickly starting to dwindle. Only two guys were left sitting there: one who he knew had eyes for him and another whom he was sure to be the classic closet homo. But Shawn didn't care because he loved a challenge. The challenge tonight would be to get them both in his room for a good time.

He downed one more shot then slid off the bench. He made to exit the bar shooting both men sultry looks and his hand brushing Ken's thigh as he exited. He walked down the street slowly, trying his best not to trip and fall on the rocky sidewalk. He had no idea if he was being followed or not but he continued to plant the bait by detouring through a dark alley. It wasn't long before arms grabbed him from behind shoving him face first into the brick wall then there were hands all over his backside.

"Hey--ey guuuuuys. Just a sec," he grunted out. "We're not gonna do thisssss here. Your room."

There was laughter and he thought maybe it was Ken but he couldn't be too sure. Everything--every sound was running together and mixed with the laughter all it was to him was just noise, noise that made him cringe due to the pounding in his head. He felt his tights being shoved down and then his hips pulled backwards. Soon he was screaming into the night, hands rubbing his sides stretching his body in numerous ways. Alcohol...he smelled lots of it but it only heightened the pleasure he felt from being ripped apart. His orgasm came quickly and he spilled himself against the wall, shuddering against his assaulter but between the alcohol, the pills he took before he went to the bar, and the orgasm, his brain shut down and he blacked out only to be left half naked and alone on the ground in the dark stench of the alley.

Owen watched as people began to file out of the bar. Hunter left Shawn, shaking his head a little as he exited. Soon the table Owen had previously sat at had dwindled down to leave only Ken Shamrock and Ray--Big Boss Man. Soon they too were gone, and there was really no point left in hanging around the bar any longer. Maybe now that a couple more hours had been wasted, Owen could get back to his room and get some shut eye.

He pulled his jacket around him at the nippy December air and looked down at his boots, listening to the heels tap against the sidewalk. He was startled when he ran into someone coming out of an alley. He stumbled a couple of steps back, and out of the shadows arms reached and shoved him again.

"Watch the fuck where you're goin' ya dumbfuck!" A gruff, drunken, and oddly familiar voice shouted. Eyes peered at him from the darkness. "Huh--O...Owen, is that you man?"

"Sure it's him." Ken finished. "Recognize that beak anywhere." He reached out and pinched Owen's nose, to which the shorter blond hastily turned his head away.

"Hey, lay off the no--..." Owen paused, and touched his nose. Something wet had smeared onto it when Ken touched him, and even in the darkness he could see the crimson stain against his fingers. "You...what...what have you guys been..." And then he noticed a piece of fabric hanging from the hand of the man who had pushed him: Big Boss Man. Broken hearts adorned the fabric that Boss Man held, and sickeningly he raised it up with a smile and a glimmer in his eyes, as if it was some sort of trophy. Owen felt sick, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a grimace and he reached out to grab the tights.

"What the hell did ya guys do to 'im!" Owen yelled frantically, briefly wrestling around with Boss Man for the tights. The fabric tore in the struggle, leaving both men with just two scraps. "Why ya gotta go pick on Shawn, he's got enough shit ta deal with as it is, leave 'im alone ya bastards!"

With a growl Boss Man pinned Owen against the wall, his 6'6" and three hundred pound frame looming over Owen's modest height of 5'10". The action caught Owen off guard because he'd never had a problem with anyone. This was a new type of scenario for him, and there was no family to have his back.

"Why you takin' up for Michaels so much lately? You forget what your name is, Hart? You're talkin' about that pretty, fussy, little bitch that fucked over your brother in Montreal. It was only a mere few weeks ago, did you already forget? Bret was one of the best--an honorable man and a champ that carried the strap with integrity--he didn't deserve what he got from that little whore." Ken spat that last word like venom. "And you're defending him at eeeevery turn huh. Ya know, there were some nasty lies floating around at one point, that Bret and Shawn had some sorta thing goin' on. I for one never believed it, Bret's no fag." Ken's eyes flashed at Owen's widened ones. "Maybe they pegged the wrong Hart for the fairy hmmm? Maybe little brother has a hard-on for the Heartbreak Cocktease."

Owen's fury at all of the "Kens" on the roster bore back into the other man. His lips were set into a tight, trembling line, his eyes uncharacteristically hard. This was the sort of vibe he set himself into when he was Owen the Black Hart heel, only this wasn't a talented acting job--this was real rage. He kept Ken's gaze and replied to him sharply.

"Doesn't seem like I was the one who just called another man pretty."

That sent fists flying, and a scuffle ensued. Owen was smaller but he was also quicker and the only sober man out of the trio. He didn't get away from the short scrape unscathed, but he had the lesser damaged of the three. He got away and turned down the alley Ken and Boss had come out of.

"Shawn?" He called the smaller man's name, not really expecting him to still be here. By now Shawn had probably stumbled off back to wherever he was staying. He walked a little down the alley, his boots scuffling over the trash littering the ground, his breathing and hammering heart slowly winding down from the fight. He stopped when the toe of his boots hit something heavy laying in the alleyway, and with a nauseating feeling...he just knew.

Owen knelt down and reached out to the slumped form, immediately feeling flesh beneath his hand. He gave the form a little shake.

"Sh...Shawn?"

There was no reply.

"Shawn!" Owen shook him a little harder, terrified that he had stumbled upon the absolute worst scenario. His hands trembled as he pressed his fingers to Shawn's neck. Relief washed over him like a wave when he felt a rhythmic pattern pulse gently beneath the warm skin.

His first reaction was to race back the short distance to the bar, and call for help. However, he found that he couldn't bring himself to move. Instead, he sat down with his back rested up against a dumpster, and pulled Shawn into his lap. Under the faint moonlight he could see the smears of dirt and garbage streaking Shawn's face--and Ken was right about one thing, Shawn was pretty.

Owen's eyes stung with tears, and he wasn't ashamed that they fell onto Shawn's face as he attempted to clean the muck off with the scrap of Shawn's tights he had left from the battle. He had to finally relinquish, all he was doing was smearing the grime around even more. With a sigh and a sniff, he wiped at his own eyes, which had began to dry as the initial fear of finding Shawn's corpse drained away from him, leaving him only tired. And cold. He was cold. It was December, and he was cold, but here was Shawn half naked. Now that he was thinking more logically, he did what he could to help the situation.

He took off his coat and wrapped it around Shawn's waist as best as he could to try and cover him from the biting air. He hoisted Shawn into his arms and carried him the couple blocks back to his own hotel room, apologizing to the guy at the desk, and giving him a hundred to keep his mouth shut. Owen took Shawn to his room, laid him in the center of the bed, and covered him. After that, he just sat down on the floor, back a bit from the bed, and watched the unmoving form. There was still something that needed to be done, but he couldn't quite figure it out. After a few more moments, and a couple more mental replays of the scene that had just taken place, he realized what it was.

He moved from his spot on the floor, disappeared into the bathroom, and came out with a wet washcloth. Owen sat down on the side of the bed, and began to clean Shawn's face. After that was done, he laid the wash cloth on the nightstand, and resumed his seat on the floor, with his back against the wall. He just watched as if to make sure that Shawn really was still alive, and the night wore on. Into the early morning hours, his head began to droop, and then snap up again just as sleep was ready to claim him. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand next to the grimy rag. It read 6:12am.

Throughout the night Shawn tossed and turned. It was typical of him when he slept alone and somehow, despite being completely out of it, his body seemed to just know that he was alone. Images of himself doing completely horrible things swam around in his dream state, the most common reoccurring one being that of himself being found dead somewhere. In his conscience state he often shrugged, disregarding the terrifying dream because honestly, he didn't care so much anymore. He'd already tried to kill himself once on Marty's watch so often times he wondered why he didn't end it sooner rather than waiting for death to find him.

Somehow, someway his body seemed to breathe life into him despite the slow beating of his pulse and he jerked awake, quickly sitting up in bed in a pool of sweat gasping for air. He felt numb, his chest hurt, his whole body ached and he smelled a funky smell which he assumed was himself since he wasn't sure if he even showered after the show or not. He looked down, staring at his trembling hand. They were extremely dirty and felt sticky, no doubt because of a little action he gave a couple of guys last night. He didn't remember who they or he was, but from the looks of things it got him a warm bed to wake up in and that was good enough for him. He didn't need to remember anyway because all it was going to do is remind him that he was in fact, a cheap slut on top of adding to the hushed whispers he received when walking by his coworkers.

Shawn glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. It read almost 7 o'clock which was a little earlier than usual but the bright side to that meant getting a shower early, a work out in and then possibly pop a few pain killers before the next show. He pulled the covers from around him, swinging his legs over the bed not even noticing Owen's presence since he assumed his "lover" slipped away so as not to be seen with him. He slowly stood to his feet but pain shot through his lower back like a mofo and he cried out, plopping back on the bed. He took deep breaths, reminding himself that the pain was only temporary and once he got the pills in his system, he would be fine. Problem was, this wasn't his room so he had no pills.

And now that he was awake, some light seeping through the blinds and hitting parts of his body, he could see better at how much damage was really done last night. There was bruise on his right thigh and cuts all over his sides most likely due to nails digging in him. He was pretty sure his lower back hurt due to being aggravated through the fucking. Whoever he was with didn't seem to consider he was small and frail, but then, most didn't. His head dropped, eyes glued to his dirty feet. He guessed he would sit here a minute until he could find the strength to fight through the pain long enough to get a shower and go back to his room.

Owen winced when Shawn cried out at the pain that so clearly cut him in half. Shawn sat back on the bed, looking down at his feet with a grimace on his face, his blond-brown hair tangle and falling partially over his face. Owen chewed at his lower lip, scraping over the painful, swollen, spot where one of the drunks last night had snagged him in their scuffle. It wasn't a big deal, being a Hart and trained up in The Dungeon by the dungeon master himself, he was familiar with pain, sucking it up, and working through it. But the look on Shawn's face was excruciating.

Owen like others had seen Shawn after matches, barely able to limp to the back, and it was common knowledge though whispered, that Shawn's back was nearly shot. It seemed like it was a ticking time bomb, but Shawn kept going out, laying it all in the ring, and very few people gave him the respect he deserved for working so hard and giving everything to each person who had paid to sit their ass down in a seat and be entertained. Shawn gave as much or even more than the other men and women on the roster, and was perhaps recognized the least for it by his peers. He may be rude and fussy, but that shouldn't take away from his skill in the ring...or his feelings as a person.

The image of Shawn limp in his arms as Owen had carried him back to his hotel room last night pierced through the tired haze that came with lack of sleep. He ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw, and stood up slowly. He was almost afraid to approach Shawn. He was sure that the Texan probably didn't remember much about last night, maybe not even who had attacked him--it was dark, and Shawn was wasted when he'd stumbled out of the bar. Shawn certainly wouldn't remember being found and taken care of through the night by a Hart--who was supposed to be in Shawn's mind his sworn enemy. Owen only hoped that Shawn wouldn't assume that he had been the attacker.

Owen moved closer to the bed, but just as he was about to make his presence known by sitting on the bed, a knock sounded at the door. Before Shawn could react, Owen had moved in the opposite way, and had opened the door a little. His back was to Shawn as he looked at the two men stood in the hallway. It was Ken and Boss. Owen rubbed at his eyes, and sighed.

"Owen--listen man, last night..." Ken lowered his voice, as Boss looked around the hallway through his dark shades. "You...you don't know about any of that, okay? It didn't happen. That shit with Shawn? Don't go and try to be some hero, it's just Shawn. What I'm tryin' to say is, me and Boss don't need any trouble from this. Do us a favor and keep your mouth shut, okay? The other guys on the roster--hell they'd do the same damn thing we did, probably have. But Shawn's Vinny Mac's chosen boy and we don't wanna find ourselves in any trouble with the big guy for fuckin' with his newest plaything." Ken chewed his lip a little. "Nothin' happened Owen, get it?"

Owen narrowed his eyes at Ken, stared at him hard and then to Boss, who looked less than threatening even though he was trying. He only looked like the worlds biggest, hung over, son of a bitch. Owen felt tired of all of it, and once again, wished he could have been in the competing company with his usual running pack. He was becoming angry at many things in this company, and it became harder and harder to find that lighthearted approach that he loved to take to life. He pressed his lips into a tight line, and glared hardly at Boss, not understanding how people could treat each other as nothing more than garbage.

"Nothin' happened? You two listen to me--Shawn coulda died last night, and you're gonna tell me nothin' happened? Ya want me to believe that? Where were the two of you after you took what ya wanted from him, huh? Ya left him! You didn't watch him all night long, you didn't clean the shit offa his face, you didn't hafta hear the whimpers from his nightmares, I did!"

Owen jabbed his finger at his own chest, his voice now raised, yelling at the other two. They had pushed him to a point of real anger that he rarely latched on to. Owen snagged Boss's glasses off of his face.

"You look at me, don't ya hide behind these! You look at me with your guilty eyes, and you tell me again that nothin' happened out there last night--I dare ya to! What are you two tryin' to do, huh? Ya think because I'm Owen Hart, because I'm the good guy, that you can come to me and tell me how it's gonna be and I'll stand up for ya cause...I'm the good guy? Well you better get somethin' straight, the both of ya!"

He grabbed a handful of Ken's shirt, and twisted it, forcing the taller man to hunch over so the two of them were nose to nose. The expression on Owen's face was disgust, as he could still smell the alcohol on Ken's breath and could see the look in his eyes that told Owen he wasn't sorry for what he did to Shawn, and probably never would be.

"Bein' a good guy doesn't mean ya stand up for everybody. Bein' a good guy means, ya stand up for the right person, no matter what the situation is...and nothin' about what the two of you did was right. Nothin'. Don't you think for a moment that I'd go to bat for either of you. I wouldn't even go to the fuckin' ballpark."

Owen let go of Ken's shirt, and shoved him a couple steps back. He still had Boss's shades in his free hand, and he pressed those now into Boss's chest. Boss was stunned at Owen's words, as he took his glasses back. Boss might have been the biggest man there in size, but Owen had made him seem as if he was two inches tall. Boss nudged Ken a little, and spoke lowly.

"Let's just go."

Boss turned to leave. Ken got in one last, half-ass glare at Owen, and went to stepping away with Boss. Owen closed the door, and slowly turned to Shawn, leaning his back up against the door and looking at the other man from across the room.

"I guess they thought we needed a wake up call."

The knocked on the door startled Shawn, triggering his hangover. His ears buzzed and his head felt like it was hit hard by an anvil. He glanced over at the door angrily, about to yell obscenities to whoever the fuck had the nerve to bother him at this hour but when he saw Owen at the door, he forced his mouth shut. Owen. Once again he woke up to find himself in the presence of one Owen Hart and after last night's Raw, he wasn't happy about this at all. However, he kept quiet. He did not wish for anyone to see him in the room with the enemy. Furthermore, while he loathed the Hart family right about now, Shawn wasn't the type to just blatantly ruin someone else's life if they haven't done anything to him. Sure he was pissed off at Owen for that sneak attacked but he understood. He didn't have to like it, but business is business. You gotta do what ya gotta do and now that he was sorta thinking straight, he wondered if Owen felt out of place now that his folk were working for the enemy.

His head shot up when he heard the raised voices. From the sounds of it, Ken was on the other side of the door looking for him. He couldn't be sure but wherever Ken went these days, Big Boss Man was sure to follow. He stretched out his legs a bit studying them. Now that the sun was a little brighter, he could see visible dried blood stains on his legs. He laughed a little. It should have been anything but funny. However, he couldn't bring himself to feel any kind of sadness or loathing. He pretty much asked for last night and to be honest, he was kinda glad he got his ass handed to him. Despite everything, he accomplished his goal which was to get royally fucked and a bed for the night. He got what he asked for so how could he be too upset?

Shawn saw Owen step out in the hall a little and he wondered what was happening. He was certain he heard his name a few times but fuck, his body ached so much that he didn't care to listen to what was going on. It wasn't until Owen came back inside, slamming the door did he get out of his zone. "Wake up call?" He rolled his eyes, staring back down at his grimy legs. "I guess they came by for seconds. That doesn't happen often."

He waited a while before he spoke up again, turning to look at Owen with a scowl on his face. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if you're stalking me. I'm pretty sure I was supposed to wake up in bed alone or with the two idiots that left here just now so why the hell am I waking up in your room again?"

"You're lucky you're wakin' up in anyone's room." Owen said. His fingers went to his lip. He could feel it leaking a bit of new blood, he was so angry he'd either bit it or split it back open a little when he was yelling at those douches in the hallway.

"Shawn...I'm not stalkin' you. When I left the bar last night, those two idiots ran into me all drunked up comin' out an alley. Ken was tryin' to be cute, pinchin' my nose, but he got blood on me, it was on his hands...and then I saw what Boss had...your tights. We got into a scuffle 'cause I wanted to know what was goin' on. They were drunk, I wasn't, so I got away pretty easily and ducked down the alley."

Owen's voice had dropped a little, as what he recounted to Shawn now came back to him as it had again and again through the long night.

"You were in the alley, in the trash, they just left ya there...in the cold..."

Owen's jaw worked a little with his anger, but more than anything else, he was trying to keep some tears back. He didn't like this side of life, it was much better when people were laughing and everything was a joke, even if the joke was on him.

"I brought you here. Nobody deserves to be treated that way. They're sick for doin' what they did. And then they came down here, wantin' to make sure I was gonna stay quiet, not expose them for the scum they are." Owen moved to the bed, and sat down on the corner of it, looking down at his hands.

"That's why you're here in my room. If...ya know, ya wanna get a shower or somethin' or need some time...I'll go and leave ya for a little while. I could go get somethin' from the lobby, if you're hungry...maybe some coffee...?"

Shawn listened quietly to Owen's explanation, some of it ringing a bell and some of it, not so much. He remembered goading Ken and Boss Man and he vaguely remembered being shoved against an alley wall, but the main thing that escaped him was everything after that. He was used to being used for a good time then sent packing after the fact, especially if he was fucking for drugs and on several occasions, he himself would stumble around leaving Hunter to find him slumped over by someone's car or in the restroom of a club, but never once in his life did he have the pleasure of waking up in an alley, abandoned by lovers--at least not to his knowledge. If it wasn't for Owen, he'd have woken up sick with a cold and definitely unable to perform, which he didn't want. Even now as he sat there, he had to wonder if the pain would let up enough by tonight to even get to the arena let alone wrestle.

He chose not to address anything else. Owen's concern for him was starting to really fuck with him because right now, he was really missing Hunter or worse, Bret, but there was nothing he could do about that so with lot of effort, he pushed himself to his feet, biting back the loud cry that wanted to escape him. "I'm going to shower and then I'm leaving. I don't need anything else from you. You've done enough."

He hobbled across the room towards the restroom, pausing briefly as if he were going to say something else, but then he decided against it. What else was there to say? He could thank him but that wouldn't change much, especially now that they were gonna be forced to talk about the very thing that him them both on edge. Once inside the confines of the restroom, he turned the shower on stepping inside, letting the cool water fully jerk him awake. After a while, he switched the water to warm, letting it wash last night's events away. It was a like a ritual. He'd give himself to whoever took interest and then the next morning, he would wash those sins away and start a fresh, forgetting the past and moving forward.

Shawn grabbed the bar of soap, lathering himself up but his hands were trembling so bad that he dropped it. He bent over to pick it up but pain shot through his back again. Not only that, but he was hit with an image of himself lying in a cold dark alley among the trash, homeless and stray animals, soiled and left for dead. He choked out a sob, dropping down to his knees as if to pray and just cried, head in his palms while water beat down on his broken body. This was one time he wasn't sure the water could erase the past.

Owen made his way to the lobby while Shawn was showering. In the corner was a small breakfast area offering a 'continental breakfast' to guests. What that really meant was your choice of stale muffin, those tiny kid sized boxes of cereal, soggy glazed donuts, or biscuits with gravy...which was probably questionable. Owen grabbed two paper plates and put some food onto him. He picked up one of the biscuits, which could have passed for a rock, and with a small smile dropped it onto the floor. It fell heavily, as if it was made of lead, and for some reason it was amusing. He bent and picked it back up, and sat it on one of the plates.

"Damn, who ever knew a biscuit could be a lethal weapon!"

He managed to carefully balance two plates of food (if it could really qualify as such) and two cups of coffee and made it back to his room without any sort of disaster. The worst that had happened was a couple of burned fingers from the coffee that sloshed over the rim of the foam cups as he went up the stairs to the second floor--because the elevator had been adorned that morning with an 'out of order' sign.

Owen sat one of the plates and cups on top of the t.v. that was near the bathroom, so Shawn would see it when he came out. He sat in the middle of the bed with his own. He broke off a corner of toast and dunked it into the thin sausage gravy with chunks of mystery meat. It would do. Coming from a large family that was often poor, he had learned early on that being picky was not an option.

He glanced up when Shawn came out of the bathroom, and a small smile worked onto his face. He had decided that Shawn wasn't allowed to leave until he had been cheered up a little. After last nights dark passage, humor and at the very least a smile was called for.

"Hey Shawn, guess what! They've got a great fossil exhibit goin' on down stairs for breakfast!" He held up the stone biscuit. "This here is a fossil of an ancient kinda food. Cave men used ta eat it for breakfast when the drive through window at McDino's was closed. Just ask Vince, he was around back then! He caused the extinction of the dinosaurs by discovering Hulk Hogan and presenting him as entertainment. It was a so excruciating, Thunder Lizards everywhere were tossin' themselves into tar pits just to get away from that horrible theme music."

He held up the second exhibit.

"Then there's this..." This was an old banana that was left in the fruit basket downstairs. The peeling was completely browned, nearly blackened, and opening it up would probably not be a good idea. "This is an ancient form of er...dildo. Vince could also be consulted on the origins of this, for obvious reasons."

Owen put the two 'fossils' back down, and dipped another bit of toast into his gravy.

"You should try this, it's not half bad. I heard a rumor they don't use real sausage in the gravy though. They use the mice from the traps they set at night. It's real cost effect, helps with the vermin problem, and it tastes just like Momma Hart used ta make it! Just make sure ya watch out for the bones, and the possibility of stuff like the Black Plague and what not." Owen added matter-of-factly, and took a drink of his coffee, which caused him to start coughing. "Oh god...that's...harsh. That's gonna keep me awake for the rest of the month."

Shawn stared at Owen curiously, his attempts at being funny bouncing off of him. He held tightly to the towel wrapped around his waist staring at the food and coffee Owen was offering to him. He knew Owen was trying his best to be nice and make light of an awkward situation but he still just wasn't feeling up to being any kind of friendly. "Thanks but no thanks. I don't drink a lot of coffee. I'm usually still passed out at this time. I'll settle for a burger when my stomach feels up to it."

He limped across the room looking through the closet. Usually most of the hotels he stayed in offered things like complimentary shaving cream, razors, soap, shampoo and if you called the front desk, combs but he had the sneaking suspicion he'd just have to tie back his hair later. Also, he woke up naked so he assumed either his tights got left behind with the trash or his tights weren't worth salvaging last night which sucked because they were his favorite pair. He found some shaving cream and a standard razor. He may have been left behind with the trash, but because of this, he was going to make sure he looked like anything but...at least for now.

He shut the closet door then made his way back to restroom. He emerged minutes later clean shaving and looking like a new man yet feeling anything but. He debated what to do about clothing, but in the end, he knew he had no choice but to borrow something from Owen until he could get to a store. He hesitated to ask, but it was either that, or leave the hotel in his towel for a run to the nearest clothing store--which he wasn't afraid to do. With him being Shawn Michaels, he was sure somebody would recognize him.

"Owen, can I maybe borrow some sweats or something? I only need 'em for as long as it takes me and Hunter to find a clothing store. If you don't want them back, I understand and will be more than happy to buy you a brand spanking new pair."

"Oh, sure, no problem!" Owen went to his suitcase, and pulled out a pair of gray sweat pants and a "Gold's Gym" t-shirt. "Fashion in the style of Owen Hart." He handed the clothing to Shawn, with a smile. "Oh--your hair, ya got some shaving cream in it."

Owen's fingers trailed through Shawn's hair, gently wiping the left over foam from the soft looks. The damp tendrils of beautiful silk left damp smudges against Shawn's bare skin, like kisses. His eyes met with Shawn's, and he found that for moments that seemed to have stopped, he was unable to look away.

Those eyes were breathtakingly gorgeous, and so desperately tormented. They were the kind of beauty that was the sea under the dark hand of a roiling storm. If he didn't look away soon, he was sure he was just going to drift into them forever, on the waves and waves that lapped within the confines of those impossibly blue eyes. Bret...Bret had often mentioned Shawn's eyes, and how easy it was for him to become lost in them, so lost sometimes...that he feared he would drown.

Owen took a small step back. He could feel the warmth creep into his cheeks and resisted the urge to touch them.

"Don't worry about it. I don't need 'em back."

Shawn feared that Owen was going to pull out a Hart tee and matching sweats which would have been really awkward to parade around in, even if it was only for an hour at best. He looked down at the shirt and sweats grateful for Owen's kindness yet still thrown off by it. It wasn't until Owen's finger was brushing his skin did he dare look up, meeting a pair of eyes similar to Bret's only less tormented. In fact, Owen's eyes held a kind of peace to them, one he himself probably would never look in the mirror and find. He forced himself to look away not wanting to react to any of it. The light touch took him back to the night they kissed and even though he was drunk, it was hard to forget a Hart kiss.

"Oh...okay, but I don't like to take so you'll get 'em back." He quickly darted back in the restroom putting on the fresh clothes. The sweats felt warm and the shirt fit pretty much jam up. He looked down at the logo, briefly recalling a conversation he once had with Bret about that gym. He would work out there often with his brothers, mainly Owen and would have a great time doing so. He shook his head. Once again he was looking back when he needed to be looking forward.

He emerged from the restroom minutes later looking a lot better than he did last night, but he knew if he didn't get a fix soon, he would be an emotional wreck by tonight. He called up Hunter on the phone, which he almost let Hunter have it for freaking out too much. Apparently someone saw Ken and his side kick leave the bar after him which had a few guys wondering if he roomed with them, which he didn't, but telling him he was with Owen instead wouldn't have been much better so he lied, telling him that he stayed with some chick he picked up later that night. Hunter seemed to buy it so they agreed to meet up a in a few.

When they hung up, Shawn wasted no time getting to the door, though awkwardly for several reasons he hoped time in the gym and pills would fix. "I'll bring your sweats to the house show tonight. Hopefully this is the last time I have to mooch off of ya."

At the house Show, it was set that Owen was supposed to come out and interfere in Shawn's match a bit near the end, and then get chased away by Hunter. Much the same way that Bret would often chase Owen around the outside of the ring during a tag match in which they opposed each other, Hunter lit after Owen much to the crowds delight. With one wrong footfall, Owen's knee--one that often nagged him from an old injury--gave out and with a yelp he tumbled down.

He started to crawl under the ring, which had been part of the original plan anyway. As planned Hunter grabbed his ankle and pulled him back out, pain shooting through his knee at the motion. When Hunter pulled the yelling blond out, he saw that Owen pulled with him Hunter's weapon of choice, his sledge hammer. While Shawn continued his match, Owen and Hunter scuffled on the outside. Hunter in the end wrangled the sledge away from Owen, and put it to good use.

Owen hobbled away from ringside, glaring at Hunter and shouting obscenities as he held his head, selling the hammer beating as if it had really happened. He got back to the locker room and sat down on the bench, annoyed with himself that he hadn't wrapped that knee as usual to prevent it from fucking up on him. He'd not done it since he wasn't really wrestling tonight, and that had proved to be a bad call. Well, as Stu liked to say, pain was only temporary, and hopefully the swelling would go down with a little ice. He'd get some from the machine once he got back to his hotel.

He got up from the bench and tested his weight on it, wondering if he could just walk it off. Beyond the pain, it just didn't feel right. It felt like it would go again at any moment. He grabbed his bag from his locker and pulled out an Ace bandage, and began wrapping his knee to keep it from further injury.

Shawn hobbled backstage after his match, Hunter's arm around his waist supporting him. The match had gone considerably well and he didn't even notice his usual back pain while he was flying all over the place. Of course, between his knees and back, he was sure to feel one or both later if he didn't get some alchy in his system soon. Hunter escorted him back into the locker rooms, staying just long enough to make sure he was okay.

"Yeah. Go. Give me roughly 15-20 minutes to shower then I'll meet you at the car."

Hunter nodded before he left in search of Joanie. Shawn took very little notice to the other guys in the room. By now, most of them had done cleared out since he was the main event. Most of the guys were probably well on their way to the next city or somewhere grabbing some grub. The few that were still here either were too busy getting their shit together to poke at him right now, or were busy whispering about him no doubt, which of course, he didn't care. By now he was used to everyone talking about him to his face so he carried on as if they didn't exist.

He kicked off his boots then reached up to pull the band out of his hair letting it fall. He set the WWE Championship in his bag, being sure to lock it up in his locker due to someone stealing it once before just to be a jerk. There would be no repeats of this. He sighed, hobbling towards the shower area. On his way there, he finally spotted Owen sitting in a corner off to himself nursing his knee. He wouldn't have given it a second glance had he not been hit with the feeling that he still owed Owen for his kindness, which bothered the hell out of him since he hated owing anyone anything. He walked on by Owen but then paused, turning and nodding towards his knee. "You should probably have that seen about. I just came off of knee surgery six months ago. Tore the cartilage completely off my knees."

Owen looked up at Shawn, a little surprised that he'd stopped to speak to him. He smiled back at Shawn a little bit.

"I don't think it's nothin' serious or anything...it just goes funny on me sometimes. I injured it back in '93 not too long after I won the USWA Unified World Heavyweight Championship from Papa Shango. I shoulda wrapped it tonight...didn't really think it was necessary since I wasn't gonna wrestle. I'll know better next time." Owen paused, remembering that cry of pain that had sobbed out of Shawn when he'd tried getting up from bed that morning. "What about your back, Shawn? Seems like it's givin' you a rough time lately. That shits serious."

Shawn waved it off. "My back's constantly aggravated O. My style of wrestling doesn't do much to prevent that so I deals with it. Besides, the champ doesn't have time to worry about injuries. A pay per view without me could spell doom for us all." He paused. "Sorry about your knee. My knee braces work alright but I occasionally wrap mine too." He pointed towards his bag. "Your sweats and shirt are in my bag. You can go ahead and get them since I have no plans of being picked up by you in another alley tonight. Once was enough."

"Good to know that no more alleys are on the agenda." Owen limped over to Shawn's bag, got his stuff, and turned back to Shawn. "Um...y'know...if you need somebody to stay with on the road, ya don't hafta put yourself through all that. Well, what I mean is, I'm by myself these days too and it'd be kinda nice to have some company. We could split the cost. I don't bite or nothin', really...just tell some pretty bad jokes from time to time."

Shawn looked around the locker room. By now they were completely alone which was good because he didn't need people seeing him conversion with Owen or vice versa. Shawn shook his head. "Owen, you know I've never had any problems with you but I don't think that's a good idea. You and I...just...we don't need to become chummy. I've always traveled with my Kliq crew and only recently just started spending nights alone. I'm a big boy. I need to fucking grow up sooner or later."

He paused for a second, remembering this morning and how Owen was very considerate, bringing him food and allowing him to borrow his clothes. Besides Hunter, he doubted anyone else would have done that for free. "I ran into Ken earlier and they're right. Being nice to me is a very bad thing Owen. What would your folks think if they knew you were helping me out?--Don't answer that cause I already know. Look...don't take this the wrong way. I get it. I appreciate what ya did for me but you've done enough. Let's just...put it behind us."

"I don't really care what other people think, Shawn. I'm a big boy too. But that's fine--I respect your decision."

Owen had really hoped that Shawn would have accepted, but he could see why in Shawn's mind that he wouldn't. Owen wondered why he was one of the only ones who could see past what had happened between Shawn and the Hart family. The rest of his family was still furious over it, and Bret...well Bret was doing his best in WCW but a conversation over the phone had revealed right off that he hated it. The only positive to being in WCW for Bret was that Davey and Jim were there, and he wasn't working for Vince any more.

Owen didn't feel that what had happened was right, the only difference was that he didn't blame Shawn like everyone else really did, he blamed Vince for it. After all, it was Vince who pulled the strings and made all the ultimate decisions. It was Vince who needed to make sure his strap stayed when Bret left, and it was Vince who used his employees often like pawns in a savage game of chess.

"It's hard for me not to care, Shawn. There are so many people in the world who just don't give a shit about anyone else but themselves. They don't see anything else in life but what they can get and do for themselves, and fuck everyone else. If people took the time to show kindness to one another, and laugh instead of spit curses, there wouldn't be so much hurt in the world."

Owen paused, and traced the golden "G" on the front of the tshirt he held.

"But anyway, just so ya know...I cared even before all of this shit went down. Some other Hart just got to ya first. Little brother did what he was supposed to and stayed back in the shadows. In his shadow. Night Shawn. I'm gonna ice my knee."

Owen left the locker room, keeping as much weight off of his knee as he could.

Shawn was glad Owen chose to leave after that because he had absolutely no idea how to respond to any of it--especially the last part. I cared even before all of this shit went down. Some other Hart just got to ya first. Little brother did what he was supposed to and stayed back in the shadows. In his shadow...

Shawn hobbled the rest of the way to the shower, quickly turning on the hot water letting it sear his skin until he could no longer bear it. He switched to a warmer temperature but just stood there, head pressed against the tile as he thought about some of Owen's words. Little brother Hart was very kind like Bret was in the beginning but after a couple of awkward circumstances, Shawn was quickly finding out that Owen wasn't like Bret much at all. By now, with all of the rumors circulating Bret would have freaked out and started bitch fitting over protecting his father's legacy for Bret always felt that their family legacy came before anything else...even his own happiness. That is, provided Bret was ever really happy with him anyway. These days it was hard to say what kind of relationship the two had. Shawn wasn't even sure anymore. Maybe he didn't love Bret at all. Maybe he was merely infatuated, clinging to him for the attention and using him to fill a void he felt after Marty, Kevin and Scott left him. Maybe...and yet he still shed tears over him.

Shawn grabbed the shampoo lathering up his hair. His eyes closed as he pondered more of Owen's words. He had said something about not enough people caring. This made Shawn laugh a little because the statement seemed a little naive. Shawn had to learn the hard way that people generally don't give a fuck unless there's a catch. Unless people were getting something in return, their act of kindness wasn't really kindness at all in his opinion. Only guys like his Kliq friends and the Hart brothers ever really done something for him out the goodness of their hearts. Everyone else had an agenda and the sooner Owen realized this the better.

As he let the water rise his hair, he was hit with Owen's last few words again about caring. I cared even before all of this shit went down. Some other Hart just got to ya first... He stood still, a slight frown on his face as he bounced this around in his mind. He doubted very seriously Owen meant what that statement seemed to imply, but still...it was...quite the something to say. He shook it though. Owen was a very attractive man and maybe it was just because he was a Hart. He didn't know at this point, but what he did know was that there would be no repeats. He made the mistake of taking kindness too far with one Hart. He wouldn't allow a few acts of kindness to mean anything between he and Owen. Not that it would go any further than friendship but he had no plans of testing himself. The longing for companionship got to him quite often. It was lonely on the road and it seemed like everyone but the champ had somebody.

He shut the water off and stepped out drying himself off. He was completely alone now and would be for the rest of the evening. At least he had his smokes and pain killers to make the evening a bit more manageable. He quickly got dressed and met Hunter in the parking lot, heading straight back to his room to light up a few.

Shows came, and shows went. A couple more weeks saw the feud with DX and Owen continue on. Owen's knee was still giving him a bit of trouble, but with Christmas just around the corner, a few days off for the holidays would be the perfect time to rest it. By the time he was back in the ring he was sure it would be fine.

But right now the ring would be at the back of his mind. His bags were packed and ready to head home to Calgary and reunite with his huge family, specifically Bret. He didn't want business to be at the forefront during the holidays, but it was kind of a given with the Hart clan that wrestling would always be around in conversation and thought. It was just in them. Owen did want to talk to Bret before they parted ways again, about WCW.

He'd been doing a lot of thinking and after hearing some inside things from Bret about the state of the competing company, he wasn't now as sure as he had been that he wanted to leave WWF. He wanted to personally, but as a career step? It might not be such a wise idea. Vince was giving him a push right now, and since he hadn't let Owen out of his contract along with his two brother in laws, it was obvious that Vince still saw something in Owen that he wanted to continue to present to the WWF audience in the ring. He still had a purpose for Owen, and despite some of Vince's off ideas, it seemed like WWF may be the wiser choice.

For now, he would put those thoughts away, and leave the ring and lonely hotel rooms behind.

He made his way to the lobby, stopping to wish any coworker he saw a bright 'Merry Christmas!' and to tuck a tiny prepackaged candy cane into their hands or pockets. He gave Sgt. Slaughter two, and joked that he needed them because his breath smelled like ass from kissing it too much.

Soon he was in a cab, and then in the airport. Owen hurried through the falling snow, tugging his stocking hat down and pulling his collar up against the whipping, icy wind. He made it inside, nose and cheeks windburned, and found a few of the other guys who had flights departing around the same time. They went through the security checks in a small group, all eagerly speaking of their wives, children, and families, a fireplace, a favorite chair, the chance to sleep in your own bed again. Now he had nothing left to do but catch his flight to home.

However, things could never be that easy. A voice came over the loudspeakers, and announced to everyone in the airport that all flights had been delayed due to weather conditions. A collective groan rippled through the people gathered and lined up. The excitement and joy that had been going through the group of wrestlers just moments ago quickly changed to disappointment and annoyance. One by one they broke away from the line to find a chair to sit in while they waited, or something to do to entertain themselves while grounded.

Shawn was one of those guys in line when the announcement came over the PA. "All flights delayed, you gotta be fucking kidding me!" Shawn pushed and shoved his way through the crowds of disheartened people cursing loudly and damning all commercial airlines to hell before he found an empty seat. Due to his rant, many people were afraid to sit near him so the two seats next to him remained empty.

"This is all I need right now," he groaned. He leaned forward, hands resting on his knees while his head hung low. The long, thick hair hid his face so that he wouldn't be recognized. He feared if anyone dared ask him for an autograph, he'd say something he would regret ten beers later and at home while he's staring into his fireplace...provided he ever made it home to begin with.

All around him he could hear people praying that they make it home for Christmas while others were on the phone chatting it up with loved ones. All of the fluffy talk was starting to piss him off mainly due to the fact he had no one to call right now except his mom, which he hardly wanted to call her up like this. She'd know something was wrong and he feared the sound of her voice and her unconditional love pouring through it would break him in the middle of a busy airport lobby. So he clamped his hands together and continued to stare at the floor, tuning everyone out as best as he can and hoping he would make it home.