PAGING DOCTOR ROSS

SMACKDOWN, MAY 3RD, 2001

"So yeah, Angel. I saw the Noah Wyle doctor again on my way in this morning. He is so fine, no kidding. I was going to talk to him, but he was in a hurry. He was saying something like 130 c.c.s of O Negative, stat. I just love how doctors talk. They’re so smart! Oh and I swear this really is the ER hospital, because I saw this other doctor – George Clooney, I swear! And the nurse who came to check on you when I was in here – just like that curly-haired woman who was with George Clooney. Isn’t that amazing?"

Trish could make small talk like that all day. It was a gift. And it was a good thing she had the gift, because today she was the only one at the hospital. Everyone else had piled into one rental car and driven the four hours to Indianapolis for Smackdown. Trish, figuring she wouldn’t have any hope of getting a match, decided to stay behind.

This morning had been pretty heavy. Angel was still in intensive care, serious but stable; no better, no worse. The problem was that tomorrow, all six of them would have to fly to London for the British Pay Per View Insurrextion. They were all booked for matches and there was no getting out of it. Leaving Angel alone was going to be tough, but it would have to be done. The only thing than made them feel any better was the fact that Angel’s parents were due at any time. If they made it before everyone had to leave, it’d be okay.

Despite the fact that there was no change in Angel’s condition, these past few days had been surprisingly ordered. Between the six of them, they now had one rental car and one hotel room which slept four. So they’d arranged themselves into teams of three – Lita and the Hardyz; Trish and the Chrises and took turns sleeping and holding vigil. The mood was pretty dark and it was really only the schedule that kept them sane.

But now five of them were gone and it was up to Trish to look after Angel. She thought that she was up to the task and if she just kept thinking of interesting things to say, maybe Angel would even wake up. Then they could go hunt down Noah Wyle and George Clooney together.

She suggested this to Angel. "And you know what? Since I miss you so much, you can even have first choice. I don’t know which one is hotter, so you can choose, okay? It’ll be so great!"

Trish peered over at Angel’s face, but still her friend didn’t move. Trish sighed. Now she had to think of a new topic.

"So, I suppose you’re wondering what everyone else is doing today – why you’re stuck with me all day. I’m going to tell you. They’ve all gone to Indianapolis. They’re going to fight for you, Angel. They came up with a plan. Chris Benoit’s going to keep on bugging Kurt Angle while Chris Jericho and the Hardy Boyz are going to fight Edge, Christian and Rhyno. Lita didn’t want to go, but I told her you’d be fine with me, so she’s going to help Matt and Jeff. They’ll get revenge for you, Angel, don’t you worry. By the time we get you out of here, those guys will be wishing they never even thought of hurting you!"

* * * *

"You sure you don’t want a match?" Jericho asked as the five of them reached William Regal’s office.

Benoit shook his head. "She makes my matches. She’s not here. That means I don’t have a match. But don’t worry, I intend making Kurt Angle’s night a real misery."

"Whatever," Jericho shrugged.

He was tired and somewhat depressed. The past few days hadn’t been easy on any of them and fuses were starting to get very short. It was a good thing they were fighting tonight.

"Come on, guys," Jericho continued, leading the Hardyz and Lita into the office. "Okay, assclown, I’m gonna make this quick. We want a match and you are going to give us what we want."

Regal sat back in his chair, his expression uneasy. "Oh, is that a fact?"

"Yeah, it is a fact, jackass."

"Then do tell, Mr. Jericho. What is your request?"

"We want Edge, Christian and Rhyno and we want them tonight."

Regal took his time replying, switching his gaze slowly between the four of them.

"Done," he said at last.

"What?" Jericho cried disbelievingly.

"Your request is granted," Regal replied.

"You’re kidding me," Jericho blurted. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Jericho slowly shook his head and shrugged at his friends.

"Well, thanks, jerky."

"You’re most welcome," Regal grinned as they turned to leave. "Oh, Jeffrey? Not so fast. I’m yet to inform you of your match. It’s most interesting, believe me."

All four stopped short.

Jeff turned back with a frown. "But I’m with them."

Regal smirked at him. "No, I’m afraid you’re not."

"Yeah, I am," Jeff insisted, glaring at Regal. "I want a shot at those guys. It’s payback time."

"Well, that’s unfortunate, because I’ve already booked you in a title match tonight."

"What?" Jeff cried. "What title?"

"You were so impressive in your battles with Triple H recently, it was decided to give you another attempt."

"IC?" Jeff questioned. "I don’t want it."

"You…you don’t?" This completely threw Regal.

"No," Jeff insisted. "This is more important. This is about…this is about…well, I’m not going to tell you what it’s about."

Regal shook his head with mock sympathy. "I’m sorry, Jeffrey…"

"It’s Jeff."

Regal didn’t even skip a beat. "The decision has already been made. You will face Triple H tonight."

"No, I won’t," Jeff cried.

"You bloody well will, young man!" Regal screamed.

Jeff had a sick smile on his face. He was fearless now, absolutely fearless.

"I’m not gonna show up. Hunter can battle Stephanie for the title for all I care. I’m going to help Matt and Chris beat Edge, Christian and Rhyno."

"You most definitely will not."

"Well, who else is going to be their partner? Benoit?"

"No," Regal said quietly. "Nobody will."

Jericho was back on the case.

"What?" he screamed.

"Now, don’t you start again. I gave you what you wanted, did I not?"

"No, you did not! We wanted six man tag!"

"Well, I am sorry, but young Jeffrey is otherwise occupied."

"No I’m not," Jeff protested. "I’m very available."

"You have a title match!" Regal snapped.

"That I’m not going to."

"Yes, you bloody well are."

"Why don’t you just blow me!" Jeff cried.

Regal’s eyes widened. He was feeling very besmirched. When he spoke he hid his anger well. "How does three month’s suspension sound, young man?"

Jeff’s mouth dropped open. "That’s blackmail!"

"Yes, my boy," Regal mused. "I suppose it is."

Jeff glowed at him, then threw his hands to his sides and marched towards the door. "This is bullshit!"

"Mind your language, young man."

"Suck my dick, you son of a bitch," Jeff spat.

Then he stormed out of the office and slammed the door.

"That young man is unbearably crude," Regal muttered.

Matt raised his eyebrows, then glared at the commissioner. "He only swears like that when he’s really, really pissed off. Just so you know."

With that, he grabbed Lita by the shoulders and led her from the room, leaving Regal alone with Y2J.

"You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you, jackass?"

Regal frowned. "Whatever is the matter? I granted your request. What more do you bloody well want?"

Jericho broke into a smirk. "You and me, Regal. This is going to end. I will take you on in the ring and that will be the end. Just one thing. Don’t expect to come out alive."

He turned quickly and left the room.

Regal watched him, a curious frown on his face.

"Well," he muttered, pouring himself some tea. "Of all the needlessly melodramatic scenes."

* * * *

"So, I think it’s going to be good, Angel. Matt and Jeff will be fighting Edge and Christian, so they’ll get some more hits in for you. Chris Jericho has Kurt Angle in a best two of three falls match. I’m not sure who has Rhyno because Chris Benoit has William Regal for something called the Queen’s Cup. Me and Lita have a number one contender’s match. Ivory, Jackie and Molly are in it too. I don’t expect to win it, but I’ve been practicing a little when I can. Yesterday, while Chris Benoit was sleeping, Chris Jericho was helping me with my armdrags. He didn’t teach me anything new, but that was still nice of him, wasn’t it?"

Trish paused to think of a new topic.

"You should see Chris Benoit with Kurt’s gold medals, Angel. It’s hilarious. He wears them around everywhere and if you ask him why, he’ll look you straight in the eye and say ‘I am an Olympic Champion’. Deadly serious. He’s funny. You can never really tell if he’s being serious, but this is very weird, it’s almost as if he’s been possessed by Kurt and…Angel? Do that again!"
Trish’s eyes were wide. Had she really seen that? Had Angel’s eyelids really moved? Soon, her face fell. Angel hadn’t repeated the movement.

"Angel. It’s me, Trish. Blink at me. Please, Angel. Blink at me." She sighed. "Oh well, it was a nice thought, wasn’t it? Now, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Chris and the medals. He’s so proud of himself. You should see it. I think he’s planning on rubbing it in Kurt’s face tonight, so I don’t know what Kurt thinks about…oh my God!"

Trish frantically pressed the nurse’s call button and a nurse soon appeared. Trish was hysterical.

"She moved! Her eyelids moved! Twice! I swear it, I’m not making this up!"

"I’ll call the doctor," the nurse told her.

"Thank you! Did you hear that, Angel? She’s calling the doctor. You’re getting better!"

Trish sat down again and resumed her speech about Benoit and the medals until the doctor arrived.

"Oh my God, Angel," she hissed. "It’s George Clooney Doctor!"

The doctor flashed her a smile. "Hi there. I’m Doctor Ross."

"Oh course you are," Trish breathed. "I’m Trish and this here is Angel. She’s getting better!"

"I think you’re right," Doctor Ross smiled. "But I’m just going to examine her to make sure."

"She moved her eyelids twice," Trish explained. "I saw it, I swear."

Doctor Ross turned to smile at her. "Well, that’s a good sign."

Trish watched entranced as he ran some tests on Angel. Finally, he adjusted his stethoscope and straightened up.

Trish peered at him, right on the edge of her seat. "Well?"

"I think we’re going to move her."

Trish frowned. "Is that good?"

Doctor Ross nodded. "It’s looking very hopeful. She’s been breathing on her own for 48 hours now. We just have to sit back and wait for her to wake up. I’m going to admit her to another ward so things will be more homely for her when she comes around."

"So, she’s going to be okay?" Trish cried.

Doctor Ross’s lips formed a line. "Like I said, things are looking very, very hopeful."

"Oh, wow!" Trish cried, leaping to her feet. "Did you hear that, Angel? You're going to be okay! Oh thank you, Doctor Ross!" She leaped around the bed into his arms and kissed him hard on the lips. "Thank you so much!"

Doctor Ross grinned. "You’re welcome. I’ll just send some orderlies to move her."

Trish nodded enthusiastically.

"Guess what, Angel?" she said, patting her friend’s hand. "We’re moving!"

* * * *

"Arrgh," Jeff groaned as the trainer manipulated his left leg.

"Sorry," the trainer replied, taking it a little more gently.

"That’s okay," Jeff said through clenched teeth. "Just try to do it a bit faster. I’ve gotta help Matt and Chris Jericho. They have a handicap match against Edge, Christian and Rhyno and I have to help them. They need me."

"You got a Pedigree too, right?" the trainer asked.

"Yeah, so?"

The trainer sighed. "Okay, sit up for a moment."

Jeff rolled painfully, grabbing his knee. The trainer reached for a penlight and shone it in Jeff’s eyes.

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Yeah, it’s Thursday. I’m not concussed," Jeff cried, slapping the penlight away.

"Just a precaution. Do you remember what you had for breakfast this morning?"

Jeff scowled. "I had a muffin. I was at the hospital, visiting my girl. Edge, Christian and Rhyno put her there. That’s why I have to help Matt and Chris get revenge."

"Of course, of course," the trainer said patronizingly. "Your girl’s in hospital, I understand. Do you remember who you were fighting tonight, Jeff?"

"Yes, Triple H," Jeff snapped. "I’m not concussed."

"I believe you, but you got a Pedigree so I have to go through these questions. Did you win your match?"

Jeff sighed. At this rate, he wasn’t going to be in time for Matt and Jericho’s match. He’d have to wait until Insurrextion for revenge. Two days until Insurrextion. Two days too many.

* * * *

Benoit walked quickly down the hallway, a smirk on his face. Kurt had cried, he’d actually cried! And all because Benoit had his medals. This was the most perfect revenge ever. He could beat Kurt in the ring. He could beat Kurt in the hallways, in the back rooms. It didn’t matter. He could beat Kurt over and over and over again but still Kurt wouldn’t see what he’d done. But now Kurt knew. Oh, he knew. It was all he could think about. Those medals were more important to Kurt than anything else in the world. And now Benoit had them. Now he could really, truly hurt Kurt Angle, far more than fists or submissions ever could. The man was lost, he was a shadow of himself. It was so damn perfect.

"I’m not concussed, okay?"

Benoit was almost to the trainer’s room when he heard the shout. He burst in there and found Jeff Hardy screaming like a psycho.

"What’s going on?" he asked coolly.

Jeff stared up at him. "He thinks I’m concussed. I’m not. I’ve gotta help Matt and Jericho beat Edge and Christian. I’ve gotta do it for Angel, man."

Benoit frowned. "So why don’t you leave?"

"Like it’s that easy," Jeff muttered.

Benoit just raised his eyebrows, then turned to the trainer. "He’s leaving."

The trainer backed off. "I don’t advise it, but I can’t stop him."

Benoit nodded and turned back to Jeff. "Come on."

Jeff blinked disbelievingly, got painfully to his feet and followed Benoit from the room.

They didn’t speak as they walked towards the ring, until Benoit shot Jeff a sideways glance and noticed he was limping.

"What happened to your knee?"

Jeff was still cringing from the pain. "I hurt it in my match. That’s why I went to see the trainer in the first place."

"I don’t think the trainer knows my name," Benoit muttered and they continued their journey.

"Where in heaven’s name do you think you’re going?"

Jeff glared at William Regal. "To the ring. What’s it look like?"

"I’m afraid that’s not a very good idea."

"Well, I’m afraid I don’t give a crap what you think," Jeff snapped.

"Stop right there! If you take another step toward that ring I will have no alternative but to suspend both of you for three months."

Of course, they both stopped short and spun back around.

"Excuse me?" Benoit asked, eyebrows raised.

"I believe you heard what I said, sunshine."

"This is bullshit!" Jeff cried.

"Three months suspension," Regal said again.

Jeff glowered at him. "Don’t you even care? Those guys beat up Angel! I thought you liked her."

Regal blinked. "I am very fond of Miss Torres, but that doesn’t change the fact that the two of you are banned from ringside. Now, kindly remove yourselves immediately."

Jeff slowly shook his head.

"Chris Jericho’s right," he spat, bumping shoulders with Regal as he pushed past. "You are an assclown."

Regal formed his besmirched face before catching sight of Benoit, who was smirking right back at him.

"I don’t think I need to tell you again. You’re looking at three…"

Bam! Before he even finished his sentence, Benoit sucker punched him and he hit the deck. Benoit calmly stepped over his body and headed after Jeff.

* * * *

Matt wearily used the ringpost and the ropes to pull himself up. Somehow he’d managed to tag Jericho and was ready for a much-needed break. They were battling valiantly, fighting for Angel, but that didn’t change the fact that they were outnumbered. Just Edge and Christian would have outweighed them. Throw in Rhyno and it was a recipe for disaster. But still they battled on. No matter what their opponents threw at them, they fought back. They were going to win this match, no matter what it took, no matter how they had to sacrifice their own bodies. It was payback time. It was all for Angel.

Right now Jericho was cleaning house. Down went Christian. Down went Edge. Bulldog on Edge. Lionsault, a cover and one…two… Unfortunately, Christian jumped back in and broke the count. Christian whipped Jericho into the ropes, but Matt made the blind tag as Rhyno pulled Jericho from the ring. Christian was slow to turn, so Matt took him down with a flying clothesline, before stumbling to his feet. He went to grab Christian, but someone was walking down the ramp.

Eddie Guerrero, the man Matt had beaten for the European title only one week ago. A man who himself had participated in a beating on Angel a couple of months before. Needless to say, Matt was distracted.

Before he knew what was happening, Edge brought Matt down with a spear and made the cover. However, the ref was outside the ring and didn’t see. Edge jumped to his feet.

"What’s going on? I’ve totally got the cover!"

"Hola, essa."

Edge spun around at the voice. "Eddie, dude. Check this out. We’re totally laying a beating on this Hardy and Y tool J."

Eddie nodded, gave Edge the thumbs up, then grabbed his head and bounced it off the ropes. Edge stumbled backwards, right into a Twist of Fate. The ref was back in place so Matt made the cover and one…two…three. The match was over, moments before Christian arrive to bail out his brother.

The Hardy Boyz music played and bewildered, Matt grabbed the ropes and watched as Eddie backed up the ramp. Jericho was equally stunned.

"Junior, what the hell was that?"

"I don’t know," Matt replied, still watching Eddie. "I don’t know what that was."

Eddie was giving nothing away. He was happy to let it remain a mystery.

* * * *

The mood was both good and bad as the five of them drove the four hours back to Chicago. There was Matt and Jericho’s win, Jeff’s loss, Kurt’s distress over the gold medals, Jeff’s knee, Benoit punching out Regal, confusion over Eddie’s motives, not to mention concern over Angel. They’d heard nothing from Trish. Was Angel better? Was she worse? Had her parents arrived? That’s why it was both a relief and a new worry when they finally reached the hospital. It was late, but the staff were used to seeing them. There’d be no problem. Or so they thought.

When they reached Angel’s room, someone else was in the bed, and Trish was also gone.

"Where the hell are they?" Benoit muttered.

Lita was frantic. She sprinted to the nurses’ station. "My cousin! Where did they take her? Where’s my cousin?"

Matt quickly caught her from behind as the nurse frowned up at her. An outburst like that at three in the morning and it wasn’t even the ER.

"What's your cousin’s name?" the nurse asked calmly.

"Angel. Angel Torres," Lita replied urgently.

The nurse’s face relaxed into a smile. "Oh, we moved her to a general ward. It’s on the fifth floor, go left from the elevator."

"You moved her?" Lita asked, not quite comprehendingly.

"Yes, she no longer needs to be here."

Lita let out a huge sigh of relief. "Fifth floor, to the left of the elevator, you said? Thank you."

She turned and explained the situation to the others and they set off again.

* * * *

Trish was sitting on a bench near the nurses’ station, touching up her makeup and stressing over the dark circles under her eyes. She was in desperate need of a deep cleansing facial and this twenty-four hour makeup was playing havoc on her skin. Even her pore-refining cream didn’t seem to be doing the job. It was tragic.

‘But Angel comes first right now,’ she reminded herself. ‘And when she’s better we can go to the beauty salon together. It’ll be great.’

With that cheering thought, she snapped her compact closed and looked boredly around. She’d memorized the dedication under the painting across from her long ago, not to mention the poster on skin cancer. Just then she saw yet another familiar sight, but a welcome one. The five travelers had returned.

"Hey guys."

"Trish," Lita frowned. "Where’s Angel?"

"In there." Trish raised a hand and pointed.

"Why aren’t you with her?" Jeff demanded. Trish noticed he was limping and gave a sympathetic pout.

"Because they won’t let me," she shrugged.

"What?" Lita cried. "Don’t tell me we have to go through this whole family thing again."

"No," Trish replied. "But because this is a ward and not the ICU, there are visiting hours. No one’s allowed in until tomorrow."

"You gotta be kidding," Matt sighed.

"No," Trish said again. "They’ve made me sit here since ten. That’s what…five hours? I’m going crazy."

The others weren’t exactly sympathetic.

"So we can’t see her at all until morning?" Jeff asked.

Trish shook her head. "Not until nine."

"I say let’s go back to the hotel and get a few hours of sleep," Benoit suggested. "Tomorrow we fly out of here."

The others thought about it, then nodded. Thee wasn’t anything they could do for now. Tomorrow they were flying to England. Tomorrow, Angel’s parents would arrive. Tomorrow, as Trish was explaining, Angel might even wake up. Well, technically it was today, but tomorrow sounded so much more promising. Tomorrow held the answers.