Title: The Liberator
Part 17
Author: Angel Eterno
Rating: NC-17 - slash
Content: Slash, Romance, Abuse
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me. They belong to WWF and Titan Sports. No copyright infringement intended.
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Fuck! Why did his fucking head hurt so much? And the bed - it was so hard - felt like he was lying on the floor - wait - shit! He half-opened his eyes, squinting around - he was lying on the floor! And his fucking head was killing him - not so much the dull ache on his jaw, it was the back of his head that was getting at him; it felt like an iron bar had been driven through it. In agony he screwed his eyes shut again. His poor head couldn't cope with all the sensations bombarding it: pain in his jaw, excruciating throbbing at the back of his head, and now on top of that a strange tickling sensation on his cheek and forehead - only it wasn't really tickling, more of a soothing, stroking caress that somebody's fingers might offer - somebody who cared that he was hurting...
He couldn't open his eyes: the light pained them.
"Chris ..." he murmured the name of the person he'd been closest to recently. "What happe' t' me ..." his speech was slurred: it hurt to talk.
He absently wondered why Chris Jericho didn't reply. But took comfort in the growing closeness of the other man's body as he was cradled closely in his arms. He tried to open his eyes again, managed to keep them open a crack, but the image was blurry. He could make out Jericho's long blond hair, it seemed lighter and more wispy somehow ... his features hazy. He reached out a hand to touch the other man's face - surprised to find his cheek wet.
"Chris ... why..."
A quick twinge shot through the back of his head curtailing his words, and he squeezed his eyes tight shut again. Through it all he heard a muffled sob. Opening his eyes again, his vision was now much clearer - eyes widened even more as he recognized the man holding him.
"Christian!"
Christian shook his head, closing his own eyes now, forcing out his next words.
"I'm sorry! Rob - I'm so sorry ... never meant it to happen ..."
Rob just stared incredulously at the blond, memories of exactly what had just happened flooding back in a sudden torrent. He re-lived in his mind Christian's angry face as he'd approached him, saw his fist coming toward his face - could re-feel the blow - after Christian had punched him he must have whacked the back of his head with something else ...
His strength returned and he struggled out of Christian's arms. An agonizing twinge shot through the back of his head - but he disregarded it. He glared at Christian. When he spoke his voice was low and threatening.
"You are a fucking psycho - you deserve Edge - you deserve each other!"
"No - I've never ..."
"Don't give me that crap!" Rob started yelling but it hurt his head. Determinedly he ignored it, struggling to his feet. "You didn't just punch me - where's that fucking iron bar?"
Christian frowned, incomprehension in his eyes.
"What iron bar?"
"The fucking iron bar you hit me on the back of my head with - after you punched me, motherfucker!"
Rob advanced menacingly toward Christian.
"I never hit you with no iron bar!"
"What about THIS then?" Rob demanded. Gingerly he touched the back of his head, examined his hand and saw more fresh blood there. He advanced some more - Christian looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car.
"I tell you I didn't hit you with anything - I punched you, yes! You got me mad - but I never did anything else!"
Christian's face was the picture of bewilderment - it was evident he really didn't know what he was talking about. Rob stood still, studying him, his hand fingering the wound at the back of his head again. It hurt like crazy! But through the confusion and pain he believed Christian; then how ...? Christian started talking again, raking his fingers through straggly hair, then spread them out in supplication.
"I hit you, you staggered backwards, then tripped over that bag there!" he pointed at a black and purple gym bag laying on its side. "You hit your head on the corner of the bench as you fell." Rob glanced quickly at the bench, saw a few strands of his own hair caught up in the jagged splintered bit that stuck out. Christian's voice faltered, his eyes on the floor. Determination then possessed him as he insisted "I didn't hit you with anything - I've never hit anyone with anything. I've never even punched anyone in anger before - not since I was a kid. What I do in the ring is one thing - but outside of it - I'm not that kind of guy! You gotta believe me!"
Rob did - Rob believed him. Christian wasn't that kind of guy - even when Edge beat him up - he never fought back, that much was evident. But when he, Rob, had verbally assaulted him, he had. Rob's eyes narrowed as he started advancing on Christian again. Christian deserved to be taught a lesson. This one was already half-learnt, as evidenced by his attack on him.
"And why should I believe you, motherfucker? You've had plenty of time while I was unconscious to hide the iron bar or whatever the fuck it was ..."
And Rob Van Dam continued advancing, ignoring Christian's frantic pleas.
"No.....!"
End Part 17