Michael's POV

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Five years.

It doesn't seem like a long time, but in the wrestling business, five
years is forever.  Careers have begun and ended in five years; new
faces replace the old, names change, personas grow stale, injuries
take their toll.  I've seen a lot in the past five years and I
remember it all, but I remember one wrestler, one man, in particular.

Tazz.

But then he was always Peter to me.

I have a picture of the two of us here on my desk; maybe that's why I
remember him so well.  At least that's what I tell myself when I wake
up crying in the middle of the night.  I have a lot of photos of the
two of us working together in an album under the sofa, but this one
is special because it's us away from the announcer's table.  We're at
the WWF's annual Christmas party and Peter has an arm around my
shoulder as we toast whoever was holding the camera with twin smiles
and twin glasses of champagne.

JR, I remembered fondly, my throat tightening a little.  Jim Ross
had died six months later doing what he loved; a massive heart attack
had taken him while he was commentating a match.  I still miss him,
especially during a pay-per-view.

But not as much as I miss Peter, because it wasn't just friendship
with us.

It was love.

I still can't believe it hurts so much to think about him.  Like I
said, it's been five years. It shouldn't be this hard without him
after so long.  I don't know why it is.

That's a lie; I know. Feelings that strong, that sure, don't go away,
Not after five years, not after fifty.  The pain doesn't go away,
either, and it doesn't get easier with the passage of time. I know
that, too.

Sighing, I put the picture down and picked up my pen.  Brooding about
it wouldn't change things, and even if I could, there wasn't much I
could do.  I didn't even know where he was.

But that doesn't change the fact that I still think about him every
day, even if only for a minute or two.  I wonder where he is, if he's
doing well, if he's happy.  I worry about him being alone and needing
someone, maybe being injured and unable to wrestle.  What would he do
then?  I like to think he'd come back to me if something like that
happened, but then Peter's always been proud.

I let out another heavy sigh as I reluctantly pushed thoughts of my
missing love aside.  My musings wern't getting "Cole's Comments"
done, and the column was due across the editor's desk next week.  I
was better off thinking about things I could change rather than
things I couldn't.

"Daddy?"

I turned around in my chair, my eyes widening when I saw my daughter
at the foot of the stairs.  I glanced at the clock; she should've
been asleep long ago.  "Sabrina, honey, what are you doing up?"

She ducked her head down, her long brown hair falling over her
face.  "Rain woke me," she murmured, pulling on the ear of the orange
teddy bear she was clutching.

I glanced out the window.  The light fall shower had turned into a
downpour, complete with lightning and cracks of thunder.  I had been
too lost in thought to notice the change.

I held out my hand.  Sabrina didn't like thunder.  When she was a
baby she used to scream the house down everytime there was a storm.
"You want to sit with Daddy for awhile?" She nodded and came
scampering over.

I lifted her into my lap and wrapped my arms around her, burying a
kiss in her hair.  She curled into me, laying her head on my
shoulder, her bear held tightly in her grasp.  "There," I said,
shifting her weight a little, making sure she wouldn't fall.  "That
better, honey?"

"Yeah." Her dark eyes turned to the papers littering my
desk.  "Whatcha doing?"

"Writing my column for the magazine," I explained, laying my cheek
against her hair.

She looked up.  "Then you're busy working?"

I had to smile at that; Sabrina's only seven, but she knows that when
Daddy is at his desk, he's working and don't bother him unless it's
important.  "Not right now, honey.  Daddy's taking a break for a
little while."  I kissed her cheek.  "Never too busy for you."

We sat together for awhile, listening to the rain hitting the
windows.  I get so little time with my daughter; usually we're both
on the run with Smackdown and pay-per-views for me, school and my
sister's for her.  Pretty soon she was going to be too old to climb
into Daddy's lap for comfort; she was getting so big already...

I gazed down at her fondly, watching her little fingers pluck at the
fur of her bear.  It was showing signs of much love; the plush was
worn away in some spots with the rest faded from numerous washings,
the ribbon that had once been around it's neck had disappeared long
ago and the right leg had been sewn back on after a mishap with a car
door.  In fact, I was suprised it looked as well as it did; Sabrina
carries it everywhere with her and she's had it since her second
birthday.

I ran my finger over the bear's nose.  "Orange is looking a little
worn," I said quietly.  "Maybe it's time for a new bear, hmm?"

She gave me a stubborn look and clutched it tighter.  "No," she said
firmly.  "Uncle Tazz gave her to me."

Tears stung my eyes; she remembered? It was so long ago... "You
remember Uncle Tazz?" I asked softly; she hadn't seen him since not
too long after that birthday.

She nodded.  "Some.  He used to play airplane with me and hug me
lots."  She paused.  "Where is he?  I want him here."

So do I, I coulen't help thinking.  "I don't know where he is," I
said truthfully.  "Daddy hasn't talked to him in a long time."

"Why?" She wrinkled her nose, confused.  "Don't you like Uncle Tazz
no more?"

I swallowed hard.  "Daddy likes Uncle Tazz very much," I
replied.  "It's just...I don't know where he is, honey.  He went away
a long time ago."

"Why?"  Sabrina looked up at me with those big brown eyes of hers and
I felt my heart ache.  Peter used to give me that same look and it
was one I could never deny.  "Where did he go?"

"He went to wrestle somewhere else," I explained as simply as I
could.  How do you explain factions and alliances to a seven year
old?  How can I tell her that her Uncle Tazz had left her behind for
a dream?

Because in the end that's why we drifted apart; Peter's dream of a
championship belt around his waist had driven him back to Paul Heyman
and into the newly formed Alliance.  Although I can't give them all
the blame; being bumped up to head commentator after JR's death also
had a lot to do with it.  Not to mention the guilt we both had been
feeling over the fact that we were cheating on our wives with
eachother, and me with a baby, too.  Combine it all and it's a wonder
how we stayed together as long as we had.

There wasn't even any good-byes in the end.  No final parting, no
wishing eachother well, nothing.  He went with the Alliance and I
stayed with the WWF.  One month turned into six, six months became a
year, and soon I was far too busy with job and family to give him
more than a passing thought.  And when my wife was diagnosed with
advanced cervical cancer, I didn't even have time for that.

It wasn't until I was left alone that Peter's picture went back on my
desk and I tried to find him.  The Alliance had bottomed out by then
and some of their wrestlers had returned to the WWF.  Peter hadn't
been one of them.  My luck wasn't any better when I contacted the
independent leagues.  It was as if he had dropped off the face of the
earth.

Japan, maybe? I mused. Or maybe he's in Europe or Mexico? They're
starting leagues everywhere now. But I had put out the word to the
main leagues there as well.  Nothing.

"Will he come back?" Sabrina asked, dragging me out of my thoughts
with wide eyes.

I surveyed my little girl solumnly, brushing a long lock of hair out
of her eyes.  "I don't know, honey," I finally said.  "Maybe someday."

She laid her head back on my shoulder. "I hope so," she finally
said.  "I miss him."

I tightened my hold on her, giving her a hug. "I know.  I miss him,
too."

We sat like that for I don't know how long, until the thunder and
lightning turned back into ordinary rain.  When it did I set Sabrina
back onto her feet.  "Okay to go back to bed now?"

She peered out the window doubtfully for a moment, then finally
nodded.  "Will you come and tuck me in?"

I nodded.  "I'll be right up, honey.  Let Daddy get the lights."  I
leaned down to kiss her.  "You go on."  She headed up the stairs,
dragging her orange bear behind her.

I watched her go up with a smile on my face.  I may not have Peter,
but at least I wasn't all alone.  Someone would always be home
waiting for me while I had Sabrina.

I went through the house, checking windows, locking doors and turning
off lights. Might as well go to bed, too, I mused, pausing at my
desk.  The column could wait another day and God knows I wouldn't be
able to work on it in my present state of mind.

I was climbing up the stairs when I heard a faint knock at the front
door.  I checked my watch, frowning.  It was late and I definitely
wasn't expecting anyone.

Probably someone stranded from the storm, I guessed, heading back
down.  Clicking on the hall light, I unlocked the door and opened it,
about to ask the person standing there if he needed help when I
noticed who it was and stopped dead.

The person standing at the door was Peter.

He looked wonderful, even dripping wet.  It took a minute for me to
see the subtle changes in him: the circles under his dark eyes, the
weight he had lost. Fear shot through me when I saw the cane he was
leaning on; so he had been injured.  How bad?

But it was the look in his eyes that made my heart ache.  Resignation
and sadness combined with the briefest flash of joy and more than a
touch of fear.  So glad to see me and yet scared to pieces at the
same time and so tired that he was ready to drop.  I couldn't help
wondering just what he had been though the past five years to cause
him to look so sad, so exhausted, so defeated.  Whatever it was, it
had left it's mark.

We stood in the doorway, simply drinking in the sight of eachother
after so long.  Finally I couldn't stand it any longer; without a
word I threw my arms around him and gave him the hardest hug I could
muster.

I felt his arms slide around me, hugging me just as tightly, just as
close.  "You're getting all wet, Mikey," he said, his voice choking
on the words.

I couldn't help letting out a little sob. "I don't care." I'd stand
out in the rain forever if it meant hearing that sweet Brooklyn-laced
accented voice of his call me Mikey again. "God, I've missed you!"

"Missed you, too, baby. So much." I felt him kiss my hair. "You don't
know how...damnit...Michael..."  his entire body shook hard in my
arms as he buried his face in my shoulder.  It took me a minute to
realize what he was doing, but when I did my heart almost stopped
from the shock.

Peter was crying.

I've NEVER seen him cry. Never.

"No...oh, no, love don't." I found myself whispering into his ear,
fighting back my own tears.  The fact that his defenses were
crumbling now told me just how hard our five years apart had been on
him. "Don't, please don't cry.  It's all right, love.  You're home
now. Shh, now.  Shh."

I held him tightly, murmuring love words and nonsense until we were
both soaked through.  A shiver ran through me; we'd both end up with
pneumonia if we stayed outside much longer.  "Come on.  Come in with
me," I coaxed, tugging at him.  "Please, love?  You'll get sick out
here."

Somehow I managed to get him inside and into the downstairs
bathroom.  "Get out of those clothes and dry off," I ordered,
wondering for a moment just what I was going to do for clothes for
him.  Even with the weight he lost, he's still a lot bigger than I am.

He must've read my mind.  "Duffel in the front seat," he said as he
peeled off his jacket.  I nodded and went to get it.

I came back a moment later to find him still struggling with his
sweatshirt.  "Want some help?" I asked quietly. God, it hurt to see
him like this...

He didn't say anything, just stopped and let out a resigned little
sigh.  Dropping his bag by the door, I went over to him and gently
tugged until it was over his head and on the floor. "There. Okay?"

He nodded.  "Yeah. I can manage the rest." He didn't look at me.  "Go
on.  Before you catch cold."

I drew away, a little hurt but understanding why he needed to be
alone.  Five years is a long time.  "Sure.  I'll make some coffee.
Come out into the living room when you're done." He gave me a nod and
I closed the door behind me.

After changing my own clothes in the laundry room I put the coffee
pot on, my mind full of questions. Yet I was equally detirmined to
give him the space he needed as well; if he didn't want to answer
questions, that was fine.  I was just glad he was here.

I was just setting two cups on the coffee table when he came out,
dressed in black sweats and leaning heavily on his cane. He waved
away my offer to help with a shake of his head.  "It's not too bad.
Just stiff from driving so long, and the weather isn't helping." He
sat down on the sofa. "Trust me, it's been a helluva lot worse."

"What happened?" I asked as I pushed the table a little
closer.  "Here.  Put it up if you need to."

"Thanks."  He eased his leg up, wincing as he did so.  "Blew out my
knee while I was teaching over in Russia.  Tried to show one of the
kids I was working with how to crash a knee into someone without
getting hurt and I landed wrong.  Fucked it all up."

My eyes widened.  "Russia?" No wonder I hadn't been able to find him.

"Yeah.  Didn't you know?" I shook my head and a frown crossed his
face as he continued. "I got a call after Alliance folded.  Someone
over there saw me training the kids on Tough Enough and thought I
could do the same thing over there.  Didn't have a lot of options, so
I went."  He paused.  "Thought for sure someone would've said
something to you."

I shrugged.  "Not a lot of the Alliance members came back," I
explained; it was partially true.  A lot of them hadn't for whatever
reasons.  But the real truth was that a lot of the time I kept to
myself backstage.  I didn't want to get too close again.

He gave me a look that told me he knew I wasn't telling him
everything, but he let it go.  "So how have you been?"

"Pretty good.  Busy." God, we sounded so normal playing catch up.
Like it had only been yesterday instead of five years ago.

"Yeah.  I saw you on Smackdown last week.  You sounded good."  He
suddenly grinned.  "Who was the dork sitting next to you though?"

I couldn't help smiling as well. "New guy.  They've been trying me
out with a bunch of people since Kevin left and I don't get along
with either Paul or Jerry.  So far they haven't had much luck."  I
shrugged.  "I just haven't clicked with any of them."

"Yeah.  Noticed that, too."  He took a sip of his coffee.  "You were
like pulling teeth to get a comment out of him."

"Yeah.  Jason's a good kid..." I shrugged again, trying to find the
words.  "It was always so easy with the two of us, you know?"

"'Cause we knew how to play off eachother," Peter said quietly.  "And
we got along so well, even before...even before."  He closed his eyes
for a moment, sighing.  "I never should've left you, Mikey.  It's
been damn lonely without you."

"For me, too," I murmured. "But I know why you did.  Vince wouldn't
give you the chance you wanted. Stephanie and Shane did."

"Yeah.  Fat lot of good it did me.  Shoulda stuck to what I knew best
instead of chasing a pipe dream."  Just when I was about to
contradict him, he changed the subject, his tone turning from bitter
to somber.  "I heard about Karen.  I'm sorry."

Now it was my turn to sigh as I looked down at my hands; I had put my
wedding ring away, unable to deal with the grief of seeing
it. "Thanks." I glanced at his own hands; his wedding ring was gone
as well. "Beverly?"

"Left me before I went to Russia," he said shortly. "It got to her,
me being gone all the time and that was the last straw.  Last I
heard, she moved to Fresno and was gonna marry a dentist."

"I'm sorry," I murmured; what else could I say?

He shrugged.  "Better this way, really," he said, putting his cup
down.  "She never said, but I think she knew my heart belonged to
someone else."  He looked directly at me.

I felt my cheeks ggrow hot.  "Karen said as much, too, right before
she died," I said quietly.  "She said that she had never seen me
happier than when I was with you."

We were both silent for a moment, then Peter asked
softly, "So...uh...is there...you know...anyone?"

"No."  Putting my own cup down, I moved from my chair to sit next to
him on the sofa.  On an impulse, I reached over and took his
hand.  "Except for you.  There's always been you."

"Ah, hell, Mikey," I've never seen him look so embarassed, but he
didn't let my hand go.  "Don't tell me you waited for me."

"Of course I did," I answered, a little suprised.  "Why shouldn't I?
Just because you left doesn't mean I stopped thinking about you,
stopped loving you."  I paused, ducking my head.  "My feelings never
changed." Had his? I didn't want to think about that.

"It's not that," he said, running his thumb over our clasped
fingers.  "God knows I never stopped loving you, either.  It's
just...coming back...I didn't wanna assume nothing, you know?
Especially after I heard about Karen.  And with this."  He gestured
to his knee.  "I mean...I never expected you to welcome me back into
your life with open arms or anything.  I figured you'd have...you
know...moved on.  'Cause the last thing you need when you're shining
through is an ex-wrestler with a gimp leg whose got nowhere else to
go."

I stared at him; did he honestly think I'd push him away just because
of his injury? What kind of a man did he think I was?

Then I realized what had provoked the words. Peter's always been two
things; very stubborn and very proud.  That combination had always
been the cause of our few and far between fights; Peter was usually
too stubborn to admit something was wrong and too proud to admit he
needed help. I think it's the Brooklyn in him.  I know it was the
only thing about him that drove me absolutely crazy.

Time for some convincing, then.  "Peter, love, look at me." I ordered
gently and after a moment he did.  "You know, you're dead wrong."  At
his confused look, I continued.  "I do need you.  I need you now more
than ever."  I paused for a moment, thinking back.  "Do you know how
many times something's happened to me, doesn't matter what, and all I
could think was "God, I wish Peter was here to see this?""  I
squeezed his fingers.  "It felt like I was missing the one thing in
my life I needed the most, the one person who always kept me sane.
And I am NOT going to let my sanity walk out the door when he just
walked back in."

"But..." he began and I silenced him with a kiss.

"No buts," I said firmly.  "And none of that stuff about having
nowhere else to go, either.  You're here now.  This is your home."

"No," Peter whispered, his dark eyes wide.  "Mikey...baby, I can't
ask..."

I kissed him again; maybe if I did it enough he'd stop protesting and
just accept things.  "You're not asking me. I'm telling you how it's
going to be."  I smiled.  "The way I see it, you don't have a hell of
a lot of choice in the matter."

By the look on his face I could tell that what I was saying was
slowly sinking in.  He was still being stubborn, though.  "And this?"
he asked, putting a hand on his knee.

I looked him squarely in the eye.  "Do you honesly think that matters
to me?" I asked softly.  "It doesn't.  If anything I admire you for
dealing with it in a foreign country all alone."

"I can't wrestle anymore," he said quietly, sadly and my heart went
out to him.  The one thing he loved to do, and he couldn't do it
anymore.

"Well, we'll just have to find you something else to do, then," I
said, trying to be cheerful for his sake.  An idea suddenly came to
me.  "The chair next to me at ringside is still open.  And God knows
we need someone who knows what he's doing."

He surveyed me solumnly for a moment, but I could tell by the way his
eyes had brightened that he liked the idea.  Liked it a lot.  I made
a mental note to talk to Vince tomorrow.  Knowing how frustrated he
was getting with not finding a permanent partner for me, he'd
probably welcome Peter back with open arms. "You got everything all
figured out, haven't you?"

"Pretty much."  I couldn't contain the grin I was hiding.  "Well?
Are you going to keep thinking up excuses or are you going to give up
and give in gracefully?"

"Well...since you're probably gonna pester me until I do..." He
reached over and ran a finger along my beard. "I love you, Mikey."

I mirrored the gesture, my heart bursting with joy. "I love you,
too."  My hand went to the back of his neck and I pulled him into a
gentle kiss.

We sat there for quite awhile, simply learning eachother again when
my daughter made her presence known.  "Daddy! You said you'd tuck me
in!" she yelled from the top of the stairs.

Be broke apart, both of us turning toward the staircase.  "I sent her
back up right before you knocked," I said, feeling a little
guilty.  "The storm woke her."

"I remember," Peter said quietly.  "You always used to come in with
the worst circles under your eyes the day after a thunderstorm."  He
paused, a look of longing crossing his face.  "Think she'll remember
me?"

He missed her, too, I thought, a smile crossing my face as I heard
Sabrina thump her way down the stairs.  "I think so," I whispered,
wondering what her reaction was going to be.

I didn't have long to wait.  She got to the landing, clutching her
bear in one hand while she held onto the railing with the
other.  "Daddy, you SAID..." she began indignantly before stopping
dead in her tracks when she saw I wasn't alone.  It took her a moment
to realize who it was, but when she did her face lit up with one of
the biggest smiles I had ever seen.

"Uncle Tazz!" She shrieked before breaking into a run.  She hurled
herself into his arms, wrapping her little ones around his neck ans
squeezing hard.  "You came back!  I missed you SO much!"

He slowly slid his arms around her.  "I missed you, too, sweetie," he
said, choking on the words.  I couldn't blame him for that; my eyes
were filling up, too.

Sabrina drew away enough to cup Peter's face in her little
hands.  "Don't ever leave again," she said sternly.  "Never ever
never.  Promise?"

He nodded, swallowing hard.  "Okay, sweetie.  I promise," he said,
brushing a lock of her hair back with shaking fingers.  "Never ever
never."

"You stay with me and Daddy from now on and not go away no more," she
persisted stubbornly.  I couldn't blame her for that; her Uncle Tazz
had left her once, and she was going to make damn sure he didn't do
it again.

Well, we'd both make sure of that.

"Promise, Uncle Tazz?" she pleaded, her dark eyes wide, giving him
the same look she always gave me when she wanted her own
way. "Promise?"

"I promise, sweetie," he said softly, drawing Sabrina back into her
arms.  "I won't leave you two alone again.  I promise."

Unable to contain myself any longer, I wrapped my arms around them
both, my heart overflowing with joy.  Kissing Sabrina's long hair, I
leaned my head against Peter's, whispering into his ear the words I
never thought I'd ever have the chance to say. "I love you," I
breathed, kissing his cheek.  "Welcome home."
 

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