They do not belong to me. If only...Summary:
Its during that fourth Spinebuster that it all goes wrong.AN:
Written after the RR'10 when I was exceedingly worried about the state of Hunter's knees.
When he hit that fourth spinebuster in a row, that’s when it happened. Something in his knee just went.Fuck.
He knelt over Ted’s prone body for just a second longer than necessary before pushing himself to his feet. There was a flare of pain from his right kneecap, movement that wasn't supposed to happen and the uneasy sensation of pieces not fitting together properly. He turned his gesturing and roaring at the crowd into a way of letting the hurt out, pushing the pain to the back of his mind. It didn’t feel like he’d torn the quad fully again, but there was definitely something not right and he moved just that little bit more gingerly.
When Shawn’s music hit, minutes later, he felt something akin to relief. Not that he didn’t trust the other guys, but it was Shawn. Shawn, above everyone else, Hunter could trust. All the attention went to Shawn, even as Hunter hauled himself to the corner of the ring and leant heavily there while the others threw punches at him. They continued on as normal, Shawn eliminating the majority of the ring before he managed to stand, moving over to where Shawn was involved with Drew. They both threw punches for a while, playing him like tennis ball, before rushing at Drew and eliminating him over the top rope.
He limped away, clutching heavily at his knee, and turned to face Shawn. The crowd noise had risen to exponential levels and it was under this cover that he spoke.
“You need to put me over early.” He spoke quietly, hardly moving his mouth so the fans wouldn’t notice anything too amiss.
Shawn’s eyes widened fractionally for a split second before his game face was back on. He could see something was wrong, just by the way Hunter was standing and his gaze flickered to his knees, always Hunter’s problem area. They didn’t have much time before Cena’s music hit and Hunter needed to know everything was going to be okay.
The familiar opening started, the crowd turned as one to the entrance and Shawn nodded, almost imperceptibly, and then turned to watch Cena’s entrance.
“I’ll pedigree him.” Hunter muttered. “But you have to find a way.”
“I will Hunter.” Shawn assured him and Hunter knew he was in safe hands.
Hitting the pedigree on John hurt like hell, his knee protesting vehemently and he couldn’t hold back the yelp of pain as white hot nerves exploded inside his kneecap.Fuck! This was so fucking ridiculous!
He wanted to go on, he wanted to tell the story with Shawn and compete but it was the Rumble, there was a chance to get out early and salvage his knee as best he could without ruining the night for the fans. Both Shawn and Cena were expert ring generals, Shawn especially, so he knew the show was in good hands and they would help to steer the other younger, less experienced wrestlers in the right direction. He could guess that Vince had already realised that something was wrong and contingency plans were being put into place. He got up, leaving John on the mat and headed for the ropes, knowing Shawn would pick up on his cue. He heard the crowd noise build as Shawn prepared and he turned to meet Sweet Chin Music, hoisting himself over the ropes and onto the ground below, catching himself briefly before he landed too heavily on his injured leg.
He looked up to Shawn, aghast on the outside, relieved inside. Shawn was giving him an inscrutable look, but Hunter could see the worry behind. He ducked his head and turned, limping only slightly as he made his way up the ramp, shrugging off any help from Earl or the other referees. Vince was waiting for him in the guerrilla position.
“Knee?” He asked, and Hunter nodded, suddenly exhausted.
“Good decision on coming out early. Trainer for you now.”
“It doesn’t feel as bad as before.”
Vince gave him a sceptical look. “Just go to the trainer.”
Back in the ring, Shawn pushed his worry for Hunter to the back of his mind and focused solely on performing. After Batista eliminated him, after he’d shown the world his disappointment and his rage, he headed straight through the building to the trainer’s room. He nodded at those who called congratulations to him for the match but didn’t stop. He pushed open the door and found Hunter lying on one of the raised beds, knee heavily strapped and one arm flung over his face.
Hunter uncovered his eyes and looked up.
“Did you win?” He joked, and Shawn cracked a small smile.
He moved to stand beside him, hand hovering over the bandaging.
“What’s the damage?”
Hunter sighed and fisted a hand in his hair. “Dunno. Doc tells me there’s a lot of swelling. It can’t be properly assessed until it goes down.”
Shawn placed his hand comfortingly on Hunter’s thigh, as Jim, the doctor, came into the room. He smiled at Shawn.
“Here to collect the walking wounded?”
“Yeah, figure I might return the favour. He’s done it for me so often.”
Jim laughed and turned back to Hunter. “Crutches. No weight on it at all Hunter, I mean that. Nothing. Rest up till tomorrow and I’ll come by in the morning to assess it more fully.”
Hunter nodded, resigned. “You’re driving then Shawn.”
“Let me just go change. I’ll be back.”
He caught Vince in the corridor, for the fuller picture. Hunter had been known to omit certain truths, in order to not be seen as weak. Vince had no such qualms.
“It’s not as bad as before is it?”
“No Shawn, we don’t think so. Might be a tear of some sort but they don’t think it’s as bad as last time. We’ll find out fully in the morning.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if he went to hospital?”
“You try telling him that. Jim says there’s nothing we can do until the swelling goes down and that won’t be until the morning at least. He wants to go back to the hotel.”
“Stubborn git.” Shawn gave a rueful smile. “I’ve just got to get changed then we’re away. I take it I’m not needed for anything else?”
“No, we’ll be round in the morning, just after nine. And Shawn, great show tonight¸ amazing. Thanks.”
Hunter hated how easy it was for him to get back to using crutches. Ten metres from the trainer’s office and his body remembered the easy swing and hop rhythm. He swung through the hotel door, heading straight for the bed and sat down, casting the crutches aside with a disdainful look. Shawn puttered around in the living room for a moment, shutting and locking the door and putting down bags. When he came into the bedroom Hunter had already manoeuvred himself into a horizontal position and was hauling the sheets over his body.
Shawn dropped down on the bed beside him, stretching out his back and sighing as something cracked satisfactorily. He twined his fingers in with Hunter’s, and squeezed gently.
“It’s gonna be okay Hunter.”
“I know. It just sucks.” He shifted closer. “Thank you for being here.”
“What else am I going to do? Don’t be stupid, go to sleep, don’t worry about tomorrow.”
Shawn pressed a kiss to Hunter’s forehead and watched Hunter fall asleep, hoping and praying with everything inside of him that it wouldn't be too serious.