* * * *

Sometimes Pete figured that his life would be so much easier if he really
was Tazz. If he really was an uncaring hard ass that got his jollies off
watching people experience pain. Maybe if he was just a little colder and a
little more jaded he wouldn't be feeling like someone just put their foot
through his gut.

He didn't care anymore. He couldn't bring himself to give a damn about his
ex-wife, his daughter, his job, or even about living. Some days, he just
wanted to sleep for at least twenty hours and spend the remaining four
brooding over a cup of coffee, or staring out the window and pretending that
everything was fine.

The fact was, everything *was* fine. Everything was fine in Michael's life,
back to normal after his little foray into the *exciting* world of
homosexual shame and mystery. It had all been a new experience for him,
another little check in the column of all the things he wanted to accomplish
in his life. Michael wasn't the neat and tidy little man he played on
television. He was cunning and slick, with a mind almost as dangerous as his
tongue. He used people without noticing or even meaning to.

Michael knew that Peter was hurt, and he was trying to reassure him that
their fling was more than that. That it was meaningful to him somehow. But
the words sounded hollow to Peter, and every time the phone rang, he pulled
the covers over his head and ignored it.

His job was suffering, he knew. According to Vince, he was one more poorly
phrased comment away from being switched with Jerry on the RAW brand. He and
Michael could never seem to get along anymore, and what was once friendly
banter became something more deep and personal. All the words they exchanged
had a biting tone and underlying meaning. Everyone knew that something had
changed between them; something drastic had moved between them until no one
knew quite who they were anymore.

Unlike Pete, Michael was perfectly fine outside of his job. Andrew Martin,
who was a really good friend of them both, told Pete that Michael and his
wife Karen were doing great, and that they'd finished their marriage
counseling and were actually working on having another child.

His eyes had burned instantly upon hearing that, and Andrew left quietly
with a parting pat on the back and a sympathetic smile. He wondered vaguely
if Andrew reported everything back to Michael.

* * * *

Andrew sank down into a plush white chair and gladly accepted the steaming
cup of coffee that Michael handed him. His friend looked great, shiny and
happier than he'd seen him in months. Michael sat down in a matching chair
across from him and set down his own cup of coffee on a table.

"Don't think I'm not glad to see you, but what is this visit really about?"
Michael asked right away, looking at Andrew openly.

Shifting in his seat a little, Andrew blew on his coffee a moment before
answering. "I wanted to see how you're doing."

Michael nodded a little. "I'm fine. Is this about Peter?"

Andrew couldn't fight back a quick smile at his friend's bluntness. Michael
never had been one to beat around the bush. "He misses you, Cole. Have you
even talked to him since the breakup?"

"Yes, a few times," Michael answered. He looked past Andrew's shoulder and a
quick flicker of regret crossed his face. "I know what he thinks. He thinks
I used him. And who knows, maybe he's right."

Andrew's eyes snapped back to Michael's, searching them for something -
anything - that would give him a new insight. "Did you use him?"

He took a quick sip of coffee and then, "I don't know, Andrew. I don't know
what to say to him, how to reassure him, when I'm not even sure myself."

"Did you love him?"

Michael smiled mirthlessly. "It was never about love."

It was a cryptic statement and Andrew felt a quick burst of anger towards
Michael that he quickly pushed away. He was supposed to be the neutral one,
the mediator. Taking sides right now wouldn't accomplish anything positive.
"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to push the irony out of his voice.

"What do I mean? I mean exactly what I said. Our breakup was never about
love. It was just something that needed to happen."

Andrew narrowed his eyes in confusion. "I don't get it. I'm sorry if I'm
being dense, but I don't understand what you're telling me."

Michael sighed. "Alright. You want the truth? The truth is that I'm a
selfish bastard and that's never going to change. We broke up because I
wanted to. Because I didn't want to sleep with a man anymore. I wanted Karen
back in my life and I wanted my children. When I was with Pete, Karen
wouldn't let me anywhere near Christine or Jessica. She said I was wrong and
disgusting and maybe I was. At any rate, I made my choice. Do I regret it?
Sometimes. Am I going to reverse it? Not for anything in the world."

Andrew listened intently, letting Michael spill everything out in the open.
When he was finished, the silence between them was thick. And even though he
didn't quite agree with everything he'd heard, he did understand. With a
nod, he stood up. "Say no more, man. Look, I'm sorry if I hounded you about
it. You're both my friends and I hate seeing him like this."

Michael nodded and stood, letting Andrew embrace him loosely. "Thanks."

"One thing, though. Does Pete know everything?"

With a reluctant sigh, Michael shook his head. "No. But I'm going to call
him."

* * * *

Pete's guard had raised the second he answered the door to find Michael
standing there. He'd listened, suppressing his urge to interrupt at some
points, not letting himself get emotional. He tried desperately to channel
some of Tazz's impassivity, and thankfully it worked.

Michael finished and looked down at his hands, his body tense. For a minute,
Peter found the whole situation almost humorous and had to fight back a
round of quick laughter. For some reason, he and all his friends had
envisioned him being the one to end things with Mikey. He'd imagined being
the one to explain why the relationship wasn't working. And he'd always
figured it would be Michael combating tears. It was never supposed to be
him, not the self-professed thug. It just wasn't supposed to happen.

"Okay," Pete said slowly, unconsciously rubbing his hands on his thighs. "It
makes sense to me now. You've done your good deed to me, so you can go now."

Michael looked up and Pete was momentarily pleased at the surprise and hurt
on his former lover and best friend's face. "Do you really want me to go?"

"What, do you want me to invite you into the kitchen for milk and cookies?"
he retorted sarcastically. "You made your decision and finally got around to
telling me about it. Do you want some kind of humanitarian award?"

"Don't be like that, Peter."

In the back of his mind, Pete knew he was being a little irrational and
unnecessarily cruel, but he didn't give a damn. "Don't be like what? Don't
be honest? Don't be pissed off because you dropped me like a wet rat? How
would you prefer I act?"

"I gave you my reasons, Peter. If you don't want to accept them, I can't do
anything about it," Michael said, resignation in his voice. Pete could tell
he didn't want to argue anymore, and that fueled his fire all the more.

"Look Cole, I understand that you had to see your girls. No one understands
that more than I do. But dammit, I thought I meant more to you than a thirty
second call on my answering machine telling me we were over."

Michael stood up hastily, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch
he'd slung it over. "I'm done fighting with you about it, Peter. I'm
finished with everything that has to do with you. I don't want to talk to
you and I don't want to see you. Let's just make this easy on the both of
us, okay? I'll put in for a transfer as soon as I get back home."

His words were like a slap across the face, but the blow was softened by
growing unsteadiness of his voice. Pete watched as Michael tried to open the
door, dropping his coat in the process. He bent down to pick it up, and a
sob escaped his throat as he did.

"Michael?"

With a wave of his hand, Michael picked his coat up and turned to face Peter
again, tear tracks on his face. "Goodbye," he said softly, opening the door
and disappearing out of it.

"I'll be damned," Pete said to himself, storming out the door after Michael
and grabbing his shoulders from behind, spinning the other man around.
"Listen to me. Listen," he insisted as Michael began to pull away. "It's
over. I know that. But I need to know, Mikey. I need to know if you still
love me."

"Why do you need to know?" Michael choked out.

"Because I do, okay?" Pete answered, looking Michael in the eyes. "Humor
me."

"Yes. I do," Michael whispered in defeat.

Pete pulled Michael soundly into his arms, sighing deeply at the feeling of
Mikey's little body pressed fully against his own. A pair of arms circled
him, almost clutching in their tightness. Finally, they pulled away and Pete
tilted Michael's chin up so they were looking eye to eye.

"Go and do what you feel like you need to do. Put in for a transfer if it's
what you really want. But you have another option. You can pull away from me
completely or you can help me rebuild our friendship."

Michael looked at Pete uncomfortably. "I don't know."

Pete shook his head. "No, you probably don't. Think about it awhile, okay?
Because Denise really misses her Uncle Mikey. Almost more than I do."

Michael smiled and nodded. "I'll think about it. But that doesn't mean -"

"No," Pete cut in. "It doesn't mean anything except that I'm tired of Andrew
being my best friend. He's great and all, don't get me wrong, but I *hate*
trying to make eye contact with guys that are taller than me."

"So that's why you don't have any friends."

"Keep pushin' it, Cole. Keep pushin' it."

Michael gave him a goofy grin and started walking towards his car. "I'll
call you later, okay? Answer the phone this time."

Peter nodded, waving a little as Michael pulled out of the driveway. For a
moment, he felt like a fool for letting himself do a complete 180 with his
emotions. It was a bittersweet ending to their relationship, but something
inside told him that Michael would never be out of his life for good.

For better or for worse.