Monday Night

People who have grey eyes will probably tell you their eyes change with their mood. Light grey is an easy mood, storm grey is a colour only one person sees on me now days. But black? Hell, my 4 best friends love me beyond death and even they find a sudden need to check under the bed for dust bunnies when my eyes hit charcoal, let alone black.

But does the moron in front of me stop? Does he look? Does he have half a brain? Okay, so nobody I call friend has ever said Seigal had an IQ. Or a personality, for that matter.

Blah blah blah Scott, blah blah blah trouble, blah blah blah addictions, blah blah.

"You fucking prick."

Oops, don't think I meant to say that out loud, but what the hell.

Remember those black eyes? If the person with 'em starts smiling... run and run fast!

As I'm standing here, I'd be deathly still if I wasn't vibrating with the need to put my hands around the throat this bullshit is coming out of and squeeze tightly until the words and his breath stops.

It's not that his murder wouldn't be worth the jail time. Oh it would and then some. But there is nothing on this or any other planet that would be worth my being separated from Scott for longer than a day, let alone 50 years.

So I'm standing here, trying to figure out how to murder the simpering shit in front of witnesses and get away with it, when the voice that lives inside my head pipes up. Strangely enough, it sounds like a certain kid I know. One day I'll figure out how to shut both him and voice up, but it won't be tonight.

*Walk away Kev, turn around and walk away*

And leave this life form in one piece and not bleeding? I don't think so. I said the voice lived in my head, but I never said I listened.

Fuck, he's still droning on. I don't give a fuck about your reasons asshole! You will not keep doing this to Scott! And for all my so called power I can't seem to make these wasted piles of DNA understand that.

Does he seriously think me of all people doesn't know, hasn't lived, each one of Scott's mistakes? Binges, arrests, girlfriends, divorces, rehabs, shatterings? Survey for you; pick the constant�ummm, that would be ME!

Okay I've had enough. Between the troll in front of me, and the voice in my head I've had enough of words. Time for bloodshed.

Then the voice says the one thing it knows I won't ignore.

*Walk away you long streak of pelican shit. Scott needs you*

My eyelids close like the curtains drawing on a play. This act is over, that's for fucking sure. The troll has stopped droning on about Scott. He's screaming my name now.

I wonder how he likes the view of my back as I walk away. I know I'll pay for it later, but right now I couldn't possibly care less. My locker room is around here somewhere and in it is somebody I need to be holding right now.

The doors only partly open before I know the room's empty. Scott's smell is still there, but his essence is gone.

The room's quiet. For some reason Scott didn't want a monitor in here tonight and it's not like I did anything worth watching.

There's a note sitting on one of the benches, held in place with one of my shoes. I don't need to see Scott's familiar chicken scratch to know who it's from but I pick it up anyway.

**Sorry baby, just couldn't take waiting in the quiet.

I'll meet you at the motel.

If I'm not there when you get there I won't be far.

Love you chico**

Fuck fuck fuck! If I hadn't been side tracked by that heap of fungus I might have caught him!

Fuck! Not now! Not fucking now! Scotty's clean, he's well, this can't happen now!

I'm fairly sure that shoe wasn't meant to go flying across the room. Just like I'm sure I didn't mean to throw that water bottle. I dunno why I picked up my cellphone, but I think I'm about to throw it, too, when it rings.

I debate about letting it go through to voice mail when that fucking voice pipes up again.

*It may be Scott*

"Scotty?"

"Kevin?"

No, not Scott. But it is the original owner of the voice that lives in my head.

"Why are you answering the phone with Scott's name?"

Translation: How have you fucked up this time?

"He just left the arena kid, I just thought it'd be him."

Oh that's lame, and so not going to fly it's not funny.

"Why has he left Kev? Isn't tonight-"

I just can't let kid finish that statement.

"No. It's just another fucking fuck up. Not ready, no room, reason or gimmick. Too much trouble, too volatile. Pick a reason. Seigal, Bischoff. I give up Sean. I dunno why."

"Scott's healthier than he's been in years, and fuck it, he IS clean. So he still has demons. Who the hell doesn't?!"

Not me, that's for sure.

"You want the guts of it kid? He won't beg! Beginning and end. Christ he barely came through this with any pride at all and those pricks want what's left handed to them on a platter!"

My voice gentles, the anger is lessening, the fear creeping in.

"He can't loose what little is left. He can't beg, Sean. And I won't let him. I won't let them break him. He'd never make it back again."

I still, listening to the gentle breathing on the other end of the phone line as the light bulb that also lives in my head finally springs to life. Fuck, I can be dense at times!

As mad as I've gotten at the spawn of Satan, other wise known as WCW bookers, I've lost it with Scott once or twice in the past little while also. Not badly, but just enough to let Scott know I didn't understand what the big deal was. I mean all he had to do was ask. Beg. Break.

"Have you ever noticed, Kev, you have the unique ability to be on the phone with somebody and have a conversation, completely without the participation of that other somebody?"

The harsh factor has gone from kid's voice now. Relief is the overwhelming emotion there now.

"Finally figured it out, didn't ya old man? Scotty would quite calmly slit his wrists for you, Kevin. Please, don't ask him to."

"I love him Sean, he's my life force. How could I not see this earlier? Why can I never seem to get it right?"

"Calm down Kevin, you haven't gotten anything wrong - trust me. Who knows how many people have given up on Scott in the past 40 odd years. You haven't. Ever. That fact alone makes up for the fact you're a little slow off the mark at times. It's okay Kev, honestly. The fact you don't understand at times is good - it means you haven't hoed this road, and quite frankly, one more kliq member with this kind of monkey would have shot the whole thing to hell."

Sean's voice drops another level as the next words come from his mouth. I understand what they've cost him.

"You're not alone Kev. Either of you. Talk to Hunter, baby, when you loose sight of the light at the end of the tunnel. He can tell you what Scott and I can't possibly comprehend. We love you. Always. Remember that."

I can picture Sean shaking himself free of the darkness. Hearing Sean's breath quicken, I know Hunter's at his side now, his hands on Sean's hips, his lips at his neck.

"Kid?"

"I'm okay Kevin. More than okay if the truth be known. Now go find Scotty, tell him you love him, gently smack him upside the head, fuck his brains out for a couple of hours, tell him you love him again and get the dumb prick to ring me tomorrow."

"Yes, kid." The meekness in my voice only half in jest. "Y'know, who ever thought you were just our mascot sure as hell got the wrong end of the stick. I love you - and Hunt. Tell him I'll call him - soon."

I hear Hunter's "Do that" and then kid say "I love you too, Kevin" and then the phone is quiet.

After hunting down my thrown shoe I shove things in my bag with no fore thought what so ever. There's no room for trivial bullshit - every sense is focused at a certain chico right now.

I hear the troll and his trollettes start yelling for me, at me, who cares. Finding Scotty, holding Scotty is important. These guys aren't worth the time it'd take to sucker punch them.

I'm outside the arena and in my car before I realise I don't have a clue where to start looking. Should have thought to ask the kid - he'd probably know. But can't ring him now - Hunter hates being interrupted.

My minds ticking over the 2 million bars there probably are in this area when that damn light bulb clicks on again. A quick turn of the wheel and both the car and me are heading back to the motel room.

I've just spent hours wanting to commit murder because those pricks won't trust Scott. I will not be them! He is clean. I trust him. I. Trust. Him.

I will go wait for him for him. And I will never show what it cost me.

I'm still fumbling with my shit and the lock when the door opens.

Hey, a half naked Hall is standing in front of me, of course I forget how to speak.

"Hey, chico," he says as he stands to one side to let me in. "Show ain't over," is what he mumbles as he points his head in the direction of the TV.

I drop my shit somewhere where neither of us will trip over it later on, and move to turn the TV off.

Then I drop to my knees beside the form huddled on the couch.

Stroking his hair, there's only one thing to say, really.

"I'm sorry."

Fuck, move like that again Scott and you'll re-injure that neck.

"For what?" he asks so quietly I can almost not hear him over the tears running down his face.

"For not catching on earlier. I'm so sorry Scott. I should have realised why you won't ask."

"I can't, Kev. I love you more than life and I want to be out there with you more than just about anything. And maybe if asking was all that was required... but I can't, I just can't."

Moving faster than I've needed to in years, I'm on the couch holding Scott before he can finish.

"Don't! Just don't. It's okay." I keep making what amounts to a cooing noise. As I hold him, I feel Scott's tears seep through my shirt and I am vaguely planning various murders when Scott finally lifts his head.

"I'm sorry, chico. I know I'm meant to be stronger than this now."

My hands slide up to hold either side of Scott's face, making him look me in the eye when I know he'd rather hide for days.

"Why, baby? You've been kicked in the teeth - again. You have a lover that's as thick as two planks and your emotions had to go somewhere. You have nothing to be sorry for Scotty, nothing at all."

I drop my chin to chest for just a second or two, praying to whoever will listen that what comes out of my mouth next is at least half way right.

A deep breath, raise my head and the words come.

"Haven't you worked it out yet, baby? You are stronger! You walked away tonight. From a fight, from a bar and I am so sorry I wasn't better support. So you cried? Big fucking deal! Baby it's when you try and keep everything inside, when you won't cry, yell, swear, whatever. That's when we get into trouble. Scotty, it has to come out, by crying, by talking. I dunno, I'd rather you didn't take to punching Bischoff, but hey! Whatever's going to work huh?"

God, I'd deck Bischoff nightly if it got me that smile every time.

"Why chico?" Scott's voice has none of that machoism he's supposed to ooze right now, and I hate for that.

"Why what, baby?"

I'm still holding his face, my world, in my palms.

"Why do you put up with me? You'd be in such a better place if you didn't have to keep stopping and waiting for me to catch up."

"I can't keep walking with out my heart baby, and that's been yours for longer than it's been mine. That's the only answer I can give you. I love you, beginning and end." And with that I press my lips to his forehead. Just holding them there, feeling him breath and knowing that whether he realises it or not he's stopped and waited for me to catch up a time or two as well.

I feel Scott shudder and I know fucking him through anything is totally out of the question tonight.

Leaning back again, I look at that face I see more often than I see mine, see the lines and the shadows. Standing to my feet, I pull Scott up with me and then into my arms. There are some bonuses to be 7' and being able to lift your 6' 8" lover is one of them.

Testament to how tired Scott is, he doesn't yelp when I lift him, carrying him the short distance to the bed. He smirks at me as I lower him to the bed.

"Off with the clothes, baby, and into bed."

"What, no helping Kevin hands tonight?"

There's life in him yet.

"No. Bed, not groping, is what you need."

But I can't help watching with the upmost attention as he strips then climbs under the covers.

Scott's smirking at me as he gently asks, "You are joining me, aren't you?"

I hate that that last bit came out as a question.

"Try and stop me, Scotty," and I'm stripped to my boxers and under the covers before he has time to think any more.

Pulling him into my arms gently, I kiss him with love, then gently encourage him to lay his head on my chest.

Stroking his hair again, there's only one more thing to say.

"I love you, Scott Hall. Always. Remember that."

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