Aftermath

"Zeke's harmless; he's just gigantic and quiet. Your knee's still bugging you, there's no need to lug your fine ass all the way to the arena. I'll only be a few hours. Go to the hotel, order something expensive and sit around and think about how much you miss me!" Heath does one of his exaggerated smug faces, laughing.

John chuckled. "Well... I have a phobia of being alone, but if you say so. I guess I'll stay. And I think you made a mistake of telling to order whatever I want." He said, smirking. It was no secret that John Hennigan had very expensive taste.

"Well it's a mistake worth making. Like I said, it'll only be a few hours. I promise to call you a bunch of times so you don't forget what I sound like. You cool?"

John chuckled. "Yes, I'm cool." He said, they exited the plane, and went through the airport and out to the rental. When they got to the hotel room, John plopped on the bed, gently massaging his knee.

"Rest up, Darlin, grab something to eat and I'll be back before you know it." He gives Johnny a slow, deep kiss before heading off.

At the show, he's shocked to realize that his ordinary tag match has been changed to a ladder match. He shakes off the surprise and focuses on putting together the best match possible.

The match is going great, the audience is excited and Heath's having a great time. Towards the end of the bout, Otunga is carrying the ladder for another move, but he stumbles, crashing into the ladder that Heath is climbing and knocking it off balance.

Heath, with no time to catch himself, falls off the first ladder, his left side crashing into the one Otunga was carrying. At first, Heath feels a sharp sting, then blinding pain. It's so intense he can barely breathe. He forces himself to push the pain aside, even though the dark, splotchy bruising is starting to mottle his skin.

Heath manages to win the match for his team, as planned, then stumbles backstage. Once he's away from the cameras, he collapses against his tag team partner, unable to keep to his feet.

The rest of the night is a blur. He doesn't remember how he got to the hospital, only that he's getting checked out. Then he's given some pain killers and the whole world softens around the edges.

**

Meanwhile, a man stands in the waiting room doing just that... waiting.

John rushed to the hospital the minute he saw Heath fall on TV. He ran in, not noticing the man. They said he could see him, and John dashed to Heath's room. "Oh Heath..." He whispered, tears in his eyes as he took Heath's limp hand.

Heath is still out cold from some of the painkillers he was given.

The tall man, with dark red hair comes in. Though his huge form is easily recognizable, most people know enough to stay out of his way. "What," the Undertaker begins slowly, stepping into the room and shutting the door. "Are your intentions towards the boy?"

John jumped 20 feet in the air. He turned around, eyes wide. "M-Mark? What... are you d-doing here?" He asked nervously.

Mark's eyes narrow a little; his face is inscrutable, showing no surprise, no anger, no nothing. "Let's just say that I have a good deal more reason to be here than you. Now answer the question: What are your intentions towards the boy?"

"I... I'm dating him." He said quietly.

Heath groans, trying to force his eyes open, but it feels like he's swimming through a fog. "Mmmm," he murmurs, stirring.

John looked at Heath and back at Mark. "Are you... are you h-his... father?" He asked, his heart racing a million miles an hour.

Mark says nothing in response, but closes the gap between himself and the hospital bed in one large step, picking up Heath's patient chart. He opens it up, pointing to the younger man's full name, "Heath Calloway Slater."

John nodded shakily as he looked at the chart. "Oh... w-well... he never mentioned that." He said. "Are... are you okay with me... being with him?" He asked, bravely looking into Mark's eyes.

"I'll reserve judgement on that," Mark growls. "Now, tell me what your plans are for the boy."

"Leave him alone," Heath mumbles.

John glanced at Heath then back at Mark. "Plans? I'm not sure... I just... wanna be with him." He said honestly.

Mark grunts, apparently not impressed with the answer.

"He's fine," Heath mutters. "We're fine, I'm fine. It's okay, really."

Mark looks ready to dispute that, but instead, he turns and leaves, giving John one last warning look before the door shuts upon his exit.

John lets out a breath and sits down in a chair. He looks at Heath. "You could have told me your father was the Undertaker." He said, giving Heath a look.

Heath groans, trying to roll on to his back, but he quickly gives up on that idea; it hurt too damn much. "I don't like to talk about it much, neither does he." He sighs, closing his eyes. "If you could, you know, keep it to yourself too, I'd really appreciate it."

He forces his eyes open when the doctor comes in and the news isn't great: two cracked ribs, two broken ones, and at least six weeks before he's cleared to wrestle again. "Stupid Otunga," he mutters under his breath.

John nodded. "I won't say anything." He promised, and reached up, holding Heath's hand. "You'll be okay?" He whispered.

"I've had worse," Heath settles back a bit, closing his eyes. "Six weeks off."

John sighed. "Well, I only have one week left with you before I have to go on the road again." he said. "Take care of my cat for me." He said, smiling slightly.

"He'll attack me though, won't he?" Heath groans in pain, pulling up his shirt a bit, showing off the bright white bandages wrapped around his ribcage that don't cover all of the vicious black and purple bruising staining his side.

"Just put food in his bowl, keep at least a 5 foot distance, and he'll be fine." John chuckled lightly. "Just try and get better. WrestleMania is coming up and I need to focus... even if I'm just having a match with Snooki." He said, chuckling softly.

"Yeah, well I have match too and there's no chance in hell I'm gonna miss it, six weeks off or no six weeks off. I'll take a couple of days then get back and start training."