“I knew it!” Amy says, pacing in the waiting room of the hospital. The other four glare at her. She shrugs.
      “Hey, Adam, man, thanks for helping out,” Jeff says.
      “No problem, besides I had a feeling Chris was eventually going to be in over his head,” Adam replies.
      “Yeah, and ‘in over his head’ is putting it mildly,” Matt adds.
      Benoit stands up. “I’m going to see how he is.” He walks down the hall.
      Adam jerks his thumb towards the hall. “What’s with him?” The others shrug.

      This is *not* the way that the Undisputed Champ should be treated. I fold my arms over my chest. I shouldn’t even be here. I should’ve just been given some aspirin and told to get a lot of sleep. Big deal, so I have a concussion. Feh.
      The door opens, ending my diatribe, and Benoit stops in the doorway. “You’re an idiot, Irvine.” He closes the door after himself.
      “Thank you, Benoit, I *really* needed to be told that,” I say, the sarcasm just dripping.
      “Look at where you’ve ended up…” he starts again.
      “Oh, please. This is just another 'Vince screws over Chris Irvine yet again’,” I say, interrupting. “The man must have a personal vendetta against me since it seems he cannot stand to see me happy… well, completely happy, anyway. I *loved* being the fan favorite, Y2J, but I didn’t have the *real* gold. I finally get said gold and everyone except the die-hard Jerichoholics hate me. Either way, I’m losing in some way.”
      “Are you done?” Benoit asks.
      “I’m never done, I thought you knew that,” I say, sounding *just* a bit spiteful… okay, very spiteful.
      “The others are out there. I think they wanted to see you, but I don’t think you’re ready for more visitors yet. We’ll come back when you stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Benoit says, then leaves.
      *I’m* feeling sorry for myself?! I just don’t like having *either* the gold or popularity. Well… if ever there was a time I needed to think, it’s now. And I do *not* feel sorry for myself!

      2am. I can’t sleep. I guess that’s what happens when you keep getting knocked unconscious and when you’re on the receiving end of a ‘Benoit tongue-lashing.’
      I need to get out of here. Not many things scare me, but being in a hospital is *definitely* on that short list. Every time you’re in a hospital, they find something else wrong with you, even if there really isn’t. I just want to go back to the hotel and be non-existent for a few days.
      A mischievous smile spreads across my face. I toss the blankets off and get up, careful not to get a draft in the meantime. Feh. I had a concussion. For *that* I couldn’t keep my own clothes on?
      I gather my stuff and change quickly. I open the door quietly and peak out into the hall. Won’t this be an interesting finding for the staff in the morning. Ha!

      Amy’s in the hotel lobby, reading a book. She looks up at one point and guess who she spots sneaking in. “Chris!” She gets up and comes over to me. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s almost 3am!”
      “I know what time it is. I just couldn’t stay there any longer,” I say. “I just want to go and be non-existent in my room.” I start to pass her, but she grabs my arm.
      “Listen, we’re just trying to help. If you ease up on being so stubborn, we’ll ease up on acting like your parents,” she says, then accents it with a smirk.
      “I’ll remember that,” I say, then head for the elevator. Thankfully, there’s no one else around (besides Amy). I lean back, waiting to reach my floor, thinking about what she said. Dammit, she had to go and make a good point. I guess I am being stubborn. Well… that’s the way I am, so there’s not much I can really do about it.
      The elevator stops and I finally get out on my floor. I pull out my wallet and find the pass-card for the door. I swear I’ve never been this happy to get to my hotel room. Anything… almost… is better than in a hospital.
      I toss my wallet on the nightstand and drop face-first onto the bed. Everything will be fine in the morning…

      *pound, pound, pound*
      Ugh… I pull the pillow over my head, hoping that noise will go away… it won’t! Damn, they’re persistent, but I’m not answering! …It stopped! I slowly remove the pillow from my head and glance at the door. Good, now I can go back to sleep…
      “Chris!” I hear and get hit with a pillow.
      I know I must really be out of it because the surprise makes me yelp and my “attacker” laughs. I pull my face out of the other pillow and look up to find Amy… so I smile at her. “Hi.”
      “It’s ten o’clock,” she says.
      “So, why’d you wake me?” I ask. “It was only seven hours since I came in.”
      “Chris, it’s 10*pm*!” she corrects.
      “Oh,” I say. I hadn’t exactly been planning on sleeping for nineteen hours.
      “I just don’t think this was a good idea,” Amy says.
      “Fine, then get the others to haul my sorry ass back to the hospital,” I say.
      “I didn’t tell them you snuck out,” she says.
      I sit up. “You didn’t tell them? Why?”
      “Maybe because I was hoping you’d come to your senses, but considering you *slept* all day…” she says.
      “Stop, please!” I say, covering my ears.
      Amy removes my hands from my ears. “Listen to me. We just don’t want you to get hurt… well, anymore than you already have. I know what you’re trying to accomplish and I’m all for helping you, but if it means shortening your career by wandering around in the middle of the night with a concussion, well… then, you’ll end up being what you’ve called a lot of other people.”
      “And that is?” I prod.
      “An assclown,” she replies, simply.
      “Alright, I had that coming,” I say. “Just let me stay here instead of the hospital. You can keep tabs on me all you want. Call or stop by every two hours or something and check on me. Anything.”
      “Well, considering I told Matt and Jeff that I was going to stay with a *friend*, I think maybe I’ll just stay here,” Amy says.
      “I get the feeling that I was the ‘nameless friend’, right?” I say.
      “Yeah, but, of course, Matt gave me the third degree before I could leave. I tell you, for a tv-only boyfriend, he can really seem like a real-life boyfriend,” she says.
      I smirk. “Such are the problems with being single. Thankfully, I’m married.”
      “Which entitles you to a whole different set of problems,” she says, returning the smirk.
      “Touché,” I say.
      “By the way, I got the outcomes for WrestleMania,” she says.
      “Yeah? Wanna give me a hint?” I ask.
      “Paul’s gonna win,” Amy answers.
      I pause for a moment, then let out an uncharacteristic, “Yippee!” She laughs. “Well, that title’s more trouble than it’s worth, I’ll be glad to be rid of it.” She’s still laughing. “Stop laughing at me, Amy!” I have to give the hospital one thing: it would’ve been quieter.
      Finally, she composes herself. “I’m sorry, Chris, but I just can’t help but keep thinking that you’ve just been acting really weird lately, even for you.”
      I pout… and she laughs again. “It’s the painkillers!” I argue.
      She winks. “Alright, that’s what it is.” She pauses. “You want anything to eat?”
      I immediately perk up. “Food!?” I give her a wide grin. “Anything you can get, Red, I’m *starved*!”
      “I’ll see what I can find,” Amy says, then adds, “just make sure you stay put.”
      “Yes, ma’am,” I say, giving her a mock salute.
      “You’re so dead when you’re back to normal,” she says, then leaves.

      The next morning, I wake up at about 5:30am... which is *way* too early, but considering I'd slept about nineteen hours yesterday... I look over and spot Amy on the other bed, sleeping on top of the blankets, with her feet on the pillows, and her head where her feet should be.
      I move quietly so I don' wake her and go into the bathroom. Squinting against the light, I check out my reflection. Either that bruise on my face isn't going away or I keep getting a new one in the same place as before. I splash some water on my face to wake myself up some more.
      Damn, I really got banged up. I can't believe this is the first time I've noticed the tape around my ribs. I quirk an eyebrow (*my* version of the People's eyebrow) wondering when that could've happened. Not able to remember, I shrug, then go about my morning 'ritual.'
      At about 5:45am, I emerge from the bathroom and, seeing as how Amy's still asleep, I make up my mind to go get breakfast--that whole pizza I had seven hours ago wasn't enough, so I throw on some clean clothes and leave the room.
      I end up waiting for the elevator and I feel a hand clamp onto my shoulder, causing me to jump about three feet in the air.
      "Little jumpy?" Benoit asks. "I thought you were supposed to still be in the hospital."
      "Wouldn't you be a little jumpy, too?" I snap, not appreciating his scaring the shit out of me. I sigh. "I'm sorry." I leave it at that because I don't want him to know I snuck out, too.
      "What did you do, sneak out?" he asks, reading my mind, apparently (not another!). I nod. "Should've known." the elevator finally reaches our floor and we get in. "Have you seen Amy around?"
      "Uh..." Do I *have* to answer this? "I kinda came in around 2:30 last night and she was in the lobby. Then, after I slept away nineteen hours yesterday, she came and stayed with me. She's still sleeping."
      "Now I know why you always get a double room," Benoit says.
      "Why?" I prod.
      "You're married, yet you still get women that actually want to spend the night with you," he answers.
      I grin. "Just don't tell my wife that." The elevator stops and we get out in the lobby.
      "Mind if I join you for breakfast?" Benoit asks.
      "Sure, why not... wait, how'd you know I was getting breakfast?" I return.
      He shrugs. "You said you slept all day yesterday, so I know you've got to be hungry."
      "The funny thing is, I had a whole pizza last night," I tell him.
      "Come on, then, Mr. Bottomless Pit, I'll treat you," Benoit says.
      "Great!" I say, then add, "Maybe you aren't Mr. Roboto after all." I grin.
      "Don't make me not pay for your food," he warns.