It's Not Over
Usual disclaimer - see Chapter 1 for the full details, but I own nothing, all the people own themselves, WWE owns the trademark names, I'm doing this to exercise my creativity and for the sheer pleasure of writing. Ask my therapist!
Chapter 7
Glenn woke up and stretched, looking over at the clock beside the bed. It was still early, Mark and Isabelle wouldn't even be awake yet. But he felt energised, and threw back the covers, shivering a little at the slight chill in the early morning air. He grabbed his bathrobe and headed for the kitchen. If he knew Isabelle, there would be coffee in the cupboard. He could brew a pot and maybe wake Dacey with a cup.
That thought alone had him grinning. He set up the coffee pot and then headed back to brush his teeth and pull a brush through his hair to neaten it a little. By the time he was done, there was a smell of coffee from the kitchen.
He poured two cups of coffee, adding cream to Dacey's, and headed down the hallway of the guesthouse to her room. Seeing the door open, he peeked in, and was surprised to find her bed empty.
"Dacey?"
He checked the bathroom, and then paced back through the rest of the guesthouse, beginning to be concerned when he could find no sign of her. He was on the verge of getting dressed and going up to the main house when he heard the low rumble of a bike out in the courtyard.
Glenn opened the guesthouse door, and watched as Dacey dismounted the bike, turning off the ignition as she did. She pulled off the borrowed helmet and hung it on the handlebar and smiled at him, taking off her sunglasses and tucking them into the pocket of her denim jacket.
"Good morning!" Her greeting was cheery, and she turned to the bike, opening the rear pannier and bringing out two travel mugs and a large brown paper sack. "I come bearing breakfast!"
Dacey approached the door, her steps faltering as she saw the look on Glenn's face. "What?"
He waited until she got inside, and closed the door behind her. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"Excuse me?" she looked up at him, startled.
"I've been worried out of my mind! Didn't it occur to you to leave me a note?"
She carefully put down the bag and the mugs and gave him a flat stare. "Excuse me again, but when did you decide to become a complete asshole?"
Glenn blinked in surprise. "This isn't about me, damn you!"
"Yes it goddamn is!" she hissed at him. "And if this is the way you act when the relationship moves beyond friendship, then it's never going to work between us."
"What?" he was stunned.
"This . . . ownership thing. The idea you have a right to dictate my comings and goings. I don't play that way, Glenn. Most women in the twenty-first century don't. Get over it!"
Ownership? Oh shit, was that what she thought? Glenn was horrified - he was doing it again. Saying one thing and having her think he meant something completely different.
"Wait. Please, Dacey. Let me say that again - hear me out, please."
She looked at him, her arms crossed over her chest, no expression on her face. But at least she was listening.
He rubbed at his forehead and took a deep breath. "What I meant to express was concern for you. I didn't know where you were." He pointed to the mugs of coffee he had poured some fifteen minutes earlier. "I went to wake you with a coffee and found you gone. I'll admit, I probably wasn't thinking clearly, because had I stopped to think, I would have dressed and gone looking for you. Maybe found you in the gym, or found the bike gone and realised you'd gone out riding."
"Is that any reason to jump down my throat when I came back? Jeez, Glenn!"
"No, it's not, Dacey, and I apologise. It's just . . . well, damnit, you keep surprising me!"
Now it was her turn to look stunned. "What are you talking about?"
He crossed to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "You keep sneaking up on me. First it was keeping that incredible sexiness of yours under wraps so that it blindsided me when I saw you in a bra. Now, when my head says 'Take it slow', I find that you're already in my heart, that I already love you. So I react as if you should know that, and of course you don't. Am I making any sense at all?"
Dacey looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Well, kinda. You reacted as if we were already lovers, and you're right, if that were the case, yes I would have left you a note saying where I was going. But when I woke up this morning, I was still very determinedly being just friends. And I've never had to account for my whereabouts to you as a friend. I mean, if you had been awake, I would have said something . . ." she trailed off and then moaned. "Oh Glenn, if we keep getting tripped up with simple communication, how is this ever going to work?"
He hugged her, then, very gently. "Oh, I think we'll work it out. I know I'm plenty motivated." He smiled at her. "Now, you mentioned something about breakfast?"
She smiled at him. "Well, I have coffee and fresh bagels. But I kind of figured on contributing the bagels to breakfast with the Calaways. Do you think Isabelle would be offended?"
Glenn shook his head and grinned. "Darlin', Isabelle is a Jersey girl who lived in New York for years. She's gonna love you for fresh bagels for breakfast."
Dacey looked relieved and handed him one of the thermal mugs. "Then what say we have some coffee and talk before we go to breakfast?"
They sat and sipped their coffee and Glenn raised something that troubled him, though he tried not to let it. "Dacey, what is it about motorcycles? I mean, I don't quite understand the attraction. It's one of the reasons I overreacted this morning, seeing you get off the bike. I had these sudden visions of you being hurt in an accident on it."
Dacey looked at him, honestly surprised. "I don't know, Glenn. I mean, I started riding bikes when I was just a kid, because they were a cheap form of transport, and because my dad would happily have the Army ship a motorcycle to his next posting, where a car - well I'd have to keep selling and buying again. I guess I've just been around them so long that I don't even think about it anymore. I like them - there's a real connection between bike and rider that isn't there with a car. I know they're risky, they don't offer any protection in the event of an accident, but I've always known that, and I ride with it in mind."
Glenn nodded. He realised that this was something he was going to have to learn to live with, probably in the same way Isabelle learned to live with Mark's attraction to bikes, and his long absences sometimes. At least he and Dacey would get to spend a lot of time together if things worked out. Hell, even if they didn't, he still got to spend a lot of time with her as a friend, and that was worth it.
He excused himself to shower and dress and then they headed over to the main house, where they found Mark looking a bit concerned as he fixed Maeve her breakfast. Isabelle walked in, her face pale, but a huge smile on her face. Mark looked at her, a question in his eyes, and she nodded. He was at her side in an instant, hugging her, picking her right up off the ground.
Glenn and Dacey looked at one another, and Glenn spoke. "Ah, we can come back later if we're intruding."
Mark and Isabelle looked over at them, wreathed in smiles. Isabelle laughed. "No, Glenn, please come in. But I'm afraid there won't be coffee for breakfast this morning."
Dacey looked puzzled. "Oh rats, Isabelle, if you were out of coffee I wish I'd known, I could have picked some up for you when I was out getting these." She held up the bag of bagels.
Isabelle's eyes lit up. "Bagels? Dacey, you're a treasure! That's exactly what I'd love!" She took the bag from Dacey with a smile and bustled about the kitchen gathering plates and knives, and Dacey followed to help.
Mark smiled and moved back to Maeve, getting her started on her own breakfast, still grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Glenn looked at him and Isabelle.
"Okay, what's going on? And if there's a coffee shortage, I know there's some in the guesthouse."
Mark and Isabelle smiled at each other and Mark shook his head. "Oh, we have plenty of coffee. But Isabelle can't stand the smell of it in the morning. Not in the condition she's in."
"Condition?" Dacey looked at Isabelle, concerned. She'd only known the woman a day, but still it worried her to think she wasn't well.
Isabelle smiled. "I'm pregnant - the test confirmed it this morning."
Dacey grinned. "Well heavens, that's not a condition, that's a blessing!"
Glenn clapped Mark on the back and walked over to Isabelle, giving her a hug and a kiss. "Congratulations to you both, that's great news!"
Breakfast was a cheerful meal, despite the lack of coffee, and Glenn leaned over to whisper to Dacey, "Thank God you went out this morning and got me a caffeine fix."
She chuckled and whispered back, "God had nothing to do with it. But you're welcome anyway."
They smiled at each other and then Maeve piped up with a question and Glenn turned to answer her. Isabelle watched them together, and as she and Mark were in their bedroom together later, she sat on the bed and thought about it before turning to him.
"Mark?"
"Yes, darlin'?"
"Are Glenn and Dacey . . . well, should I have just given them the same room in the guesthouse?"
Mark looked at her in surprise. "Not as far as I know, and I've been travelling everywhere with them. They're just friends."
Isabelle frowned a little. "I could have sworn at breakfast that there was more than that. Ah, maybe it's just pregnant woman vapours." She smiled at him, her hand going to her belly.
He sat down with her, his large hand covering hers, leaning in to kiss her. "Isabelle, you've never had any kind of vapours, and you're pretty perceptive about people. Who knows? Maybe there is something going on that I've been too blind to see."
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Later that day, Mark, Glenn and Dacey loaded their wrestling gear into the SUV for the ride to the arena, and Mark watched them together. Perhaps there was a new closeness there, he couldn't be sure. There was nothing unusual about the tussle for the keys, which Dacey won with a grin, slipping into the driver's seat and adjusting it and the mirrors before either of the men had a chance to even voice an opinion.
She grinned out of the window at them, much to Isabelle's amusement. "You snooze, you lose, boys. Come on, get your asses in here, we've got a show to get to."
Mark bent to kiss his wife gently, smiling at her as he took the backseat behind Dacey, and Glenn took the front passenger seat. Dacey turned the keys in the ignition, giving them both a wicked a grin as the CD player started playing. Nodding her head in time with Outkast's "I love the way you move", she reversed the SUV and roared off down the drive, pumping up the volume.
Glenn shook his head. Dacey and her damn dance music. He looked over at her, as she grooved behind the wheel, singing along in a low voice, "I love the way you move, I love the way, I love the way."
He had to admit, it was rather appropriate. Dacey moved with the innate grace of most athletes, enhanced by her work as a personal trainer and aerobics instructor. He grinned to himself - he just bet she was hell on wheels on the dancefloor at a club, and he promised himself to see if they couldn't do that one night. He couldn't dance worth a damn, but it would be incredible to see her in action.
Tonight's match was a turning point in the Darkness storyline. Ginger's match against Jazz was going to become ugly, and Taker and Kane were going to step in to stop the interference. There had been a lot of talk about how that could advance the storyline more quickly, with Ginger accepting the help, but Dacey had stood firm.
"No way. She's going to be pissed at them for this," she insisted.
"But they're helping her!" one of the writers protested.
Dacey looked at him. "That's my point. Ginger doesn't want help, especially from Taker and Kane. Don't you get it? She doesn't trust anyone, she's almost clinically insane at this point. Something a lot bigger than this is going to be needed to make her snap . . . and even then, it needs to be an even-money bet as to whether she accepts them or just flat-out goes nuts."
Mark had nodded. "Dacey is right. It's a beginning point, but don't try taking any shortcuts with this. We know what we're doing here."
Jim Ross had backed them up, trusting their instincts, which had proven right to this point. Dacey and Jazz had worked out a spectacular looking match, especially given the size disparity between them. At one point, while they were blocking it out, Jazz had suggested a German suplex, and Dacey had just looked at her.
"You're kidding, right? I mean, I'll sell it, but seriously?"
Jazz just grinned. "Let's try it, and then you tell me if you'll sell it."
Dacey shrugged and they moved around the ring. Jazz suddenly whipped behind her and grabbed her around the waist. Dacey barely had time to push off with her feet to help out with the move before she was laying flat on her back. Jazz released her hold and Dacey rolled to her side, eyes wide.
"Damn! Jazz, if I ever question your ability to pull off a move again, you have my permission to kick my ass for me. This match is gonna open some eyes, I think."
Jazz's response had been a broad grin, and they had shifted their ideas up a notch or two, testing one another's abilities as they created a match that was bound to attract attention. Later, talking with Mark, Glenn, Theodore Long and Rodney Mack, broadly outlining the interference that was going to occur outside the ring for the most part, they were deliberately vague about the match. As Jazz said, why not give the men a surprise that didn't involve lingerie? Dacey had howled with laughter at that.
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She sat in the women's locker room later, lacing up her boots, deep in thought about the coming match, and didn't hear the footsteps behind her. The tap on her shoulder made her jump, and she looked around quickly to see Joanie Lauer smiling at her.
"Hi, I'm Joanie," she said, holding out her hand, which Dacey took automatically, still in something like a state of shock.
"Dacey," was all she managed to say. It was a wonder she even got that out - Joanie, or, as she was probably better known, "Chyna", was her idol. Meeting her like this was one hell of a turn of events.
Joanie sat on the bench not far from her with a smile. "Didn't mean to interrupt your preparations, but I've been wanting to meet you since I first saw you on the shows. You're a hell of a wrestler, Dacey."
Dacey just blinked, and hoped she didn't look too stupid with her mouth hanging open. Chyna thought she was a good wrestler? She couldn't have been more surprised to hear the voice of God himself. She swallowed hard and tried to smile in return.
"Thank you . . . so much! I have to admit, I've idolised you, wanted to be like you ever since I started wrestling."
It was Joanie's turn to grin. "Well thank you, that's always nice to hear. You're the first one to say it in a while though. Most of the gals coming through lately want to be Divas first and wrestlers second it seems."
Dacey snorted in disgust. "Barbie dolls belong in toy boxes, not in a wrestling ring. But, who am I to argue with the bosses? The Divas seem to appeal to a certain segment of the audience, so I live and let live."
Joanie laughed. "I hear you insisted on a clause in your contract about none of that Diva bullshit. Good for you. And don't under-estimate the impact you're having on another segment of the audience. Women love to see a strong female role model who doesn't have to be flashing her boobs to get attention."
There was a knock at the locker room door, and a production assistant poked her head in. "Dacey, five minutes. And Joanie? Paul's looking for you, I said I'd let you know if I saw you."
Joanie nodded and looked at Dacey again, smiling. "Got to go, I guess, let you get into your match mode. Knock 'em on their asses, girl."
Dacey laughed. "Just watch me!"
"I intend to," Joanie grinned as she left, and Dacey sat for a moment, taking it in. Her wrestling idol thought she had talent. That alone made everything worth it. She finished lacing her boots, and stood up, stretching carefully to keep her muscles warm. She'd seen too many people injured, even in her short time with the big show. At the two minute mark, another production assistant came to escort her to the backstage area.
She bounced lightly on her toes, focused on the coming match. As the opening bars of her theme music hit, Ginger's trademark smile curled her lips and she assumed the swagger as she made her way up the stairs to the Titantron to make her entrance.
The roar of applause and catcalls still surprised her every time she heard it, but Ginger hardly ever acknowledged it. She stopped at the top of the ramp, looking down at the ring where Jazz waited for her. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, and then allowed a smirk to cross her face as she began a slow walk down the ramp towards the ring. At the last moment, she put on a burst of speed and hit the springboard hard, vaulting high over the top rope to land behind Jazz. The moment her feet touched the mat, she hooked a leg around Jazz's and threw her over with a hipshot. Jazz came up off the mat with her usual athletic speed, the bell rang and the match took off. She allowed herself a little grin to Jazz as the crowd exploded at some of the moves, and the energy of that fed their work even more.
Just as Ginger looked to be getting the better of Jazz, Rodney Mack, accompanied by Theodore Long, headed down the ramp to begin the interference that had been planned. Leaping up onto the apron, Rodney reached out and grabbed Ginger by her hair, breaking the chokehold she had on Jazz. She turned to him, snarling, and launched a roundhouse punch at him, which he blocked. Jazz, meantime, had grabbed Ginger round the waist and pulled her into the German suplex, which had the crowd on their feet. Ginger rolled out from under Jazz and pinned her, and Theodore Long pulled her off the smaller woman, breaking the count.
If the crowd had been excited before, the appearance of Undertaker and Kane at the top of the ramp had them in a frenzy. Ginger, on the other hand, was incensed, and screamed at them to get the hell away from her. Jazz took advantage of her distraction to hook a leg and drop her to the mat, getting her in a painful chokehold. But this time, as Taker made short work of Rodney Mack, it was Kane who grabbed at Jazz and forced her to break her hold.
Ginger got groggily to her knees as Jazz leapt over the top rope to land on Taker's back, interrupting his blows to Rodney Mack, and Kane stalked Theodore Long around the ring, finally backing the man up against the crowd barricade. As she shook her head, Ginger snarled in rage, and in a well-timed move, threw herself into a baseball slide at Kane's unprotected back. But he grabbed Theodore just at the right moment, and swung him around, and Ginger's boots impacted solidly with his shoulders, propelling him into the steel stairs and over them into the crowd barrier.
Jim Ross sounded astonished. "Well that's taken Theodore Long out of this scheme, but you know King, I could have sworn Ginger was aiming for Kane when she made that move."
Ginger and Kane locked eyes, and in a sudden move, she was up from the mat, and over the top rope, launching herself at Kane, who caught her as he fell back onto the mats at ringside, setting her up for a move they had been working on. Her hands positioned at his throat, Ginger pushed up into a full handstand, standing upright for a long three count, before dropping backwards over his head and holding in a bridge, her hands still in the chokehold around his neck.
It looked as spectacular as hell, and the crowd roared its approval as King and Jim Ross fell over one another to describe what they were seeing.
"I have never seen a move like that in all my years, that is the damnedest thing. She's got him in a killer chokehold right there and I don't see a way for him to get out of it," Jim enthused. "What in Sam Hill do you call that move?"
"I'd call it goodnight nurse, because she is not letting go, not for a second," King responded.
"It looks like Ginger's forgotten exactly who she was supposed to be wrestling, because as far as I could make out, Kane and Taker were there trying to stop Theodore Long and Rodney Mack from interfering in a match she looked like she was in a good position to win."
But Jazz hadn't, getting up from where Taker had tossed her rather unconcernedly a few moments earlier, and she threw herself at Ginger, breaking her hold on Kane's neck and propelling her into the crowd barricade. Kane sat up, looking around at Jazz, who backed away a little, even as Ginger got to her feet and rolled back into the ring to break the referee's count out. She rose to her feet, still snarling at Taker and Kane, and reached down over the top rope to grab a handful of Jazz's hair to pull her up onto the ring apron. Once Jazz had her feet under her, she swung herself backwards over the ropes and into the ring, and the women resumed their match, Taker and Kane retreating to the ramp, watching Theodore Long and Rodney Mack carefully.
Ginger ended the match by subjecting Jazz to her own version of Brock Lesnar's F5, which had been dubbed the "Feel Good" after she had grabbed the mic after using it on Victoria for the first time, leaning down to her and purring, "Feel good now, do we?"
Covering Jazz and waiting for the three count, Ginger was smirking in triumph, but when she caught sight of Taker and Kane still holding position on the ramp, the smirk turned to a snarl, and she bounced to her feet, wrenching her arm from the referee's grasp as it was raised in victory, and motioned for a mic.
"When will you two freaks get this through your heads? I don't need your goddamned help! Stay the hell away from me!"
The lights dimmed to the now familiar red, and the Nickelback theme blared as the two big men stood their ground on the ramp, staring her down. It was Ginger who broke first, tossing down the mic and leaping out of the ring and over the crowd barrier, making her way through the crowd rather than face the men on the ramp.
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Backstage, there were congratulations all round. Dacey and Jazz just grinned at the praise for their match, especially when Mark had looked at them both and drawled, "Seems there was a little left out of our pre-match briefing there, ladies."
Dacey chuckled. "Please. You didn't need to know all the little details to do what you had to do - which you did beautifully, thank you kindly."
Paul Levesque, with Joanie at his side, broke through to look at Dacey and Jazz, shaking his head. "You keep that kind of thing up, you're gonna make some of the guys on the roster look bad."
To which Joanie just laughed. "So keep doing it! Any guy on the roster who can't come up with a match like that isn't worth his paycheck anyway. But damn, Dacey, that bridge chokehold . . . that was pretty damn spectacular."
"I can't take all the credit for that," Dacey protested. "Glenn saw me do a handstand walkover one day when we were working out together, and suggested that maybe I could work it into a move. The chokehold part . . . well, hell, if I'm gonna be teaming up with two guys who use a chokeslam finisher, I figured maybe I should have my own chokehold finisher."
Glenn grinned at her. "Only thing left is to work out what to call it."
Dacey gave him a sweet smile. "Didn't they tell you, Glenn? I'm here for the muscle part - I leave the creative part to the pencil pushers." She poked her tongue out at him and he grabbed her into a hug.
"You're way too smart to just be muscle, Dace, and you know it," he smiled at her.
She gave him a little shrug and smiled back, and Mark watched them. It seemed Isabelle was right, there was something new about their relationship, but he got the feeling that it was early days yet. And he hoped it would work out - there were plenty that hadn't. Paul and Joanie were one of the few lucky ones, there had been plenty of other relationships that had gone supremely wrong, his own marriage to Sara among them. Well, there was nothing for it but to move on, and keep out of it if he could. The last thing he needed was to end up caught on one side or the other if it went sour.
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After the show, they headed back to Mark's place, Dacey for once happy to hand over the keys and let someone else do the driving. She slipped into the backseat, her eyes closing with a sigh as she rested her head back on the seat.
"You okay, Dace?" Glenn turned to ask, as Mark drove the SUV out of the parking garage and headed it home.
She nodded, without opening her eyes. "Just tired. That was a long match."
Mark made a quiet noise of assent. "We both know that feeling, Dacey. You'll sleep like the dead and feel a whole lot better in the morning, trust me."
As they pulled up at Mark's house, he stopped to let Glenn and Dacey out at the guesthouse before taking the SUV to the garage. Dacey gave him a little wave as Glenn said goodnight, and she shouldered her dufflebag and headed to the guesthouse at Glenn's side, smiling as he looped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"That really was a hell of a match, Dacey. I knew you had talent, but tonight showed me what kind of potential you have too. When the three of us get to wrestling as a team, the sky's the limit."
She grinned up at him. "I can hardly wait. Tonight was incredible, but I know I can do better." Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight with her enthusiasm, and he bent down to kiss her gently.
"One step at a time, okay?" She knew he was talking about more than wrestling, and nodded.
"Well, my next step is to crawl into bed and sleep. See you in the morning?"
He smiled. "I'll make the coffee, if you promise not to take off on that bike again."
"Deal. I won't take off on the bike, but I can't make any promises about not hitting the gym first thing," she laughed as he opened the door of the guesthouse.
"Well at least I'll know where to find you. Goodnight, Dace," he leaned down to kiss her gently and she smiled.
"Oíche mhaith Glenn, codladh sámh," the unfamliar language sounded musical and he looked at her, puzzled. "Sorry, slipped into Gaelic for a moment there."
"And it meant?"
She smiled and translated. "Goodnight Glenn, sleep well."
He nodded. "It sounds lovely when you say it that way. See you in the morning, Dacey."
She smiled and headed for her room, pushing the door closed behind her and dropping her duffle on the floor. She yawned and stretched, and stripped down to her panties and a t shirt before heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Five minutes later, she was, as Mark had predicted, dead to the world.