Keep walking

Hunter grumbled as the orderly told him to take it easier. He didn’t want to take it easy. He wanted his damn leg to start working properly again, and his damn weak quad to start filling out again. Reluctantly, he stopped pushing so hard on the machine, respecting the wishes of the physical therapist who was watching him like a hawk, to the relief of the orderly.

One, two. One, two. The pain was still there, but the pace was so, so very slow. Finally, he was given a break. Frustrated out of his mind and feeling like he was getting nowhere, Hunter looked around the room, watching as other people with injured parts worked on walking, lifting things, and pushing light weights with pain on their faces. He grimaced. He really, really hated rehab.
His eyes lingered on a young man who was taking baby steps with a walker, closely watched by another therapist. Hunter grimaced. Poor kid looked in shape, but he would be lucky to reach 40 and still be wrestling.

John hated rehab. Despised it. He tried to to show the pain he felt in his expression as he limped with the walker. He loathed using it... but his knee was just in so much pain. He had torn a few tendons in his knee. He prayed he'd be able to get back to work soon.

Eventually, his therapist told him to sit down and take a break. He grumbled and sat down in a chair. His green eyes scanned the room, seeing all the other athletes going through rehab. He wasn't surprised to see Hunter one of them. the man didn't know when to take it easy. But John didn't say anything. He just looked down and quietly iced his knee.

Hunter scrutinized the young man's face from accross the room. He looked familiar, now that the handsome features weren't screwed in pain. Hunter's eyebrows raised in recognition. John Morrisson. WWE employee. Midcarder just waiting to get pushed to main events. Checking up on him couldn't hurt.
Hunter grabbed his crutches, and escaped the stern gaze of his trainer with a muttered promise to be back soon, before limping his way to the young wrestler and sitting next to him. He nodded in greeting.

"Hey kid. How long are you out?"

John jumped a little when he heard the voice on Hunter. "Oh, um... they said maybe a month." He sighed. He knew he'd pay for doing all his high risk moves. And now he was. A month out. That tore him apart. He hated being put on the sidelines. He knew he needed to be more careful with his moves before his permanently injured himself.

"What about you?" He asked.

Hunter offered an encouraging smile.

"A month isn't too bad. Don't rush your return, it'd be pretty reckless, especially for a high flyer. Better take 5 weeks and come back a hundred percent than 3 and get injured even worse."

Hunter patted his own bandanged quadricep.

"With my history... I'll be lucky to get in the ring again. I'm not exactly in the prime of my career anymore."

There was no kidding himself. At 40 years old, he had, at best, a couple of matches left in him. Sure he would work behind the scene, but it just wasn't the same. He felt a twinge of selfish jealousy for the young man next to him. He shook himself and attempted a grin.

"Which is why young guys like you should be careful. I can't carry the company on my back anymore."

John chuckled slightly and nodded. "Yeah, your right." He said. "But I've always been used to pushing myself. I was a former gymnast, and the sport is brutal. Guess that's why I always stuck to hugh flying."

GYmnastics almost killed him. He needed to be careful, before he seriously hurt himself. He did not want to start over again. ANd he definitely did not want to give up wrestling.

He looked up at Hunter. "I think you have more than a few more matches in you. But I wouldn't know. I suppose it's better to quit before you get seriously injure. I know that much."

Hunter looked over the young man's body critically. Lean, defined muscles and not an ounce of visible fat. John Morrisson certainly had the look of a high flyer, and good high flyers always entertained the crowd. With the right push he could probably get into main events. But in Hunter's mind, unless you had the charisma of a Shawn Michaels, being a high flyer is more a hindrance than anything else if you're aiming for the world title. Well, he supposed that since Rey Mysterio was the World HEAVYWEIGHT Champion once, anything was possible.

"Maybe," he answered. "As long as I'm healthy and can move properly I'll be in the ring."

The words were bittersweet as Hunter looked down at his leg, knowing that he was far from healthy and hasn't moved properly for about two years. He shifted in his seat, the low burning in his left quad distracting him.

"A former gymnast, huh. Well keep in mind that careers in gymnastics are meant to be pretty short compared to ours."

A grating voice interrupted the conversation, and he waved back at his trainer to shut him up. He took back his braces, went to his feet and leaned on them heavily as he looked back at John.

"I'll see you around, John. Seems like we're both stuck here for a few weeks anyway." With a grin and a wink, Hunter hopped back to his rehab spot for another gruelling session of slow exercises.