Book 5-Falling Out

Lady Takersangel's Domain | home

It has been a few weeks since the wonderful Thanksgiving holiday, and is now December 19th, morning before the Smackdown taping. Glenn, Will, Mark, and I are at the photo studio, getting ready to shoot for both covers of the WWF and RAW magazines. Basically, we're standing around, waiting for the photographer to get the motorcycle set up just right. "Okay, I think that should be good," the photographer says, stepping back from the bike. "Right, so I want Paul Bearer to the left of the bike and Kane to the right." Will and Glenn go to their appointed spots. "Good, good. Now I want DC scooted up on the front end of the bike, and Taker, you sit back on the seat."

We sit on the bike, and wait for further instruction as the photographer gets his huge camera. He looks us over, and says, "DC, lean forward. We want some sex appeal here." I do as I'm told, rolling my eyes at the thought of drooling males. "That's perfect. Now rest your arms on the inner part of the handlebars. Right. Taker, just lean back a little bit." He shakes his head. "No, nevermind. Just sit up." He looks through his camera. "This is great! Now DC, smile deviously; Paul, the Bearer smirk; Kane, lift your arms like you're raising the flames in the ring; and Taker, just look like you're set to kick ass."

Once we're all doing what we're supposed to be doing, he begins to snap pictures. Flash after flash, I begin to see spots in front of me. "My muscles are weakening here, dude," I say through my tired smile.

"That's nothing," Mark says. "Man, you're torturing me here."

"How so?" the photographer asks, still snapping away.

"I've got this great woman sitting in front of me, and you won't let me touch her!" Mark replies.

The photographer laughs, and says, "Just doing my job here." After a few more snaps, he smiles at us. "All done. The RAW photographer will be in soon. All I know is he doesn't want the bike in the picture. Thanks you all. It's been a pleasure." He walks off the set.

"Damn," I say, "and I was wanting to go for a joyride."

Mark's arms circle around my waist as he asks, "And what type of joyride would you be referring to, Little One?" As one could see, I've been able to accept our relationship much more, and never hesitate or stiffen when giving or receiving affection anymore. It's a big milestone for me.

I untangle myself from his hold, get off the bike, and turn to smile evilly at him. "Not the one that has any connection with the male body," I tell him. Mark smirks back at me.

Will and Glenn are laughing. "Looks like you got shot down," Glenn says through his laughter. "Not the first, and definitely won't be the last." I look at Glenn critically. It seems to me that Glenn has gotten somewhat vicious when joking about my relationship with Mark. Makes me wonder if he is true in saying he's happy for us.

"Looks like I arrived at a good time," a man says behind me. I turn to see the RAW photographer smiling at us.

"Well, you could say that," I simply reply.

"I'm Rob, for RAW Magazine," he tells us. He nods to Mark. "Could you move the bike off the set for me?" Mark nods, gets off the vehicle, and rolls it off the set, just a few feet away from the lights.

"So, Rob," Will starts, "what is it that you've got planned for us?"

Rob replies, "Well, I want to do an above shot, looking down on the four of you. As I see it, Taker and Kane hold DC up lengthwise, and Paul is standing in front of them. Let me get my camera set up, and then I'll tell you where to go."

Rob climbs up a ladder to a camera pole that looks down from above. He sets his camera up, then directs Mark and Glenn to lift me up by one arm each; Mark supporting my upper back area, and Glenn's hand dangerously placed on my thighs. "DC, smile deviously." `Not again,' I think, but put the evil smile on anyway. "Make sure, Taker and Kane, to be seen from under DC. Great. Paul, the Bearer smile, and prefect!" He begins to snap away.

A few snaps into the pose, I feel something slide between my thighs, and begin to massage my juncture through my clothing. I close my eyes in fright and imaginary pain, scrunching my face up as I realize it is Glenn's finger doing the massaging. "DC, look back up here," I hear Rob say.

My mind is screaming, and before I can stop myself, the scream escapes my lips. "What's wrong?" Rob asks, seeming concerned. Quickly, I'm taken down, and I fall to my knees, tears coming down my face; the feeling of his finger is still there.

"What's wrong with you?!" I hear Mark shout. I look up to see him push at Glenn. "Have you lost your fuckin' mind?" He had seen what Glenn was doing, I suppose.

Will is at my side now, and softly murmuring over and over, "It's all right now, Ally."

Although his words are comforting, the sob keeps coming. Suddenly, Mark is kneeling in front of me. "You okay?" he asks. I nod, but more tears pour out of my eyes before I can stop them. Mark gently picks me up, and sets me down on the seat of the bike, hugging me tightly. I cry into his chest.

I look up to see Glenn standing with his arms crossed over his chest, like he's angry or something. "What's wrong with you, Glenn?" Will asks.

"What's wrong with me?" Glenn restates, and laughs. "Let me tell you what's wrong with me. At first, I thought I could handle my best friend dating the woman of my dreams. The more I see them together, the more I despise the moment I said it was all right for Mark to go after her. I can't stand it anymore!" Glenn stomps off, and leaves the studio.

With tear-filled eyes, I look back up at Will, and up at Mark. Mark is looking down at me. "I'm so sorry, Mark," I barely whisper. "I-I never meant to ever get between you guys." My mind tells me, `You're gonna get kicked to the curb if you're not careful. I told you not to get involved. Just you wait.' I shake my head, and bury my face into Mark's leather coat.

He rests his chin on my head, gently stroking my back. "No, it's not your fault, Ally," he says softly. "Glenn's just got some jealousy coursing through his veins right now. It'll pass." He kisses the top of my head. "I think it's because he just broke up with Shell recently. He'll be back to normal soon."

Rob comes up to us. "I think I've got some good shots, anyway," he tells us, then bends to pat my shoulder. "Don't worry, it's gonna be a great cover."

I smile at his comment, given in the most innocent way because he doesn't know what the real reason is. I watch as he walks out of the studio. "Where was he when we were arguing?" I ask aloud. Will and Mark shrug. I stand back up, wipe my face with my hands, and smile at the two. "Come on, we've got a show to do tonight." We gather our things, and leave the studio to head for the arena.

Once we enter the arena, Glenn walks up to us. "I'm incredibly sorry, you guys," he tells us. "I don't know what got over me back there. I couldn't control my anger, and I never meant for it to direct toward your relationship." He sighs heavily. "It's just some repressed anger from my break-up."

I smile at him, and pull him into an embrace. "I forgive you, Glenn," I say to him. "It hurt, but I understand." I turn to look back at Mark, who has a sort of pained look about him.

When he notices me looking at him, he smiles, and gives Glenn a gentle punch on the arm. "You're just a giant time bomb, Glenn," Mark teases him. "Got to cut the right wire to not blow the house down, all right?" Glenn laughs, and nods.

The night passes by quickly, with our little group dominating the show. It's been said by the writers that we will become the greatest thing in the WWF in a long while, and I hope we don't disappoint the fans should this come to pass. During the show, I get this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, and all I think is that something bad has happened to my mother or Luke. I call both, and both are fine. `What the hell? What's wrong then?' I wonder.

We leave the arena late, and head to the airport. We were granted the next week off, as long as we worked on Christmas Day; it was unusual, as I've been told that they usually get off for the holiday. We had agreed quickly, and anticipated the week of rest and relaxation. After an hour's wait, our plane is finally called, and we board quickly.

As Mark places our things in the overhead compartment and sits down beside me, I tell him, "You know that feeling I got during the show that I told you about?" He nods. "Well, it won't go away now. I've already called Mama and Luke, and both are fine."

Mark takes my hand in his warm one, and says, "It's just something you must have ate, Ally. Everything's perfect right now."

I smile at him, and nod, replying, "I guess you're right." I set my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes. "I overreact too much lately." Minutes later, I feel the plane begin to move, and I drift off to sleep.

During the flight, I awaken to see Mark deeply asleep. Gently, I sit up, and lean over to grab a magazine from the seat in front of me. A tight pressure consumes my hand, and I look to see Mark open his eyes. "Hello to you, too," I say as I sit back in my seat, bringing the magazine to my lap.

"How long have you been awake?" Mark asks through a sleep-clogged voice.

"Only a minute or so," I answer. "We should be home soon."

Mark yawns, and replies, "I can't wait to get some real sleep. We've needed this for a long while now."

I smile as I pick the magazine back up, and open it, saying, "I know, Mark. We're `the hottest thing in the WWF', as the writers say. I'm glad they let us have the rest of the week." I look back to Mark, and notice his eyes are closed again.

A few hours later, the plane lands in the Houston airport. I shake Mark's arm. "Wake up, Mark," I say. "Time to go home."

Mark grumbles as he opens his eyes, and slowly stands up. He grabs the overhead bags, hands me mine, and follows Glenn off the plane. We walk through the airport, retrieve our bags, and head out to the lot, where we hail a cab, and leave. We stumble into the house, all three of us quite tired now as it's late. Once we reach the top of the stairs, I break off into my room, plop down onto my bed, and close my eyes.

My eyes open slightly, and I turn my head to the nightstand, where the clock reads 7:15. With a grumble, I get myself up, grab a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and head into my bathroom. I turn on the hot water, plug the drain, and add moisturizing bath bubble stuff. After the tub has filled with the white suds and warm water, I undress, and lay back in the tub, the heat making my body relax.

Not much longer than fifteen minutes later, I hear Mark call out my name. "I'm in here!" I call back, making sure that the bubbles appropriately cover my body. Since we had become closer, I've allowed him to enter the bathroom when he wanted, as long as I was appropriately covered.

The door opens, and Mark walks in. "Just the way I like you," he teases, a smile crossing his lips.

"But the way you can't have me," I reply, smiling at the fake-pained look on his face.

"Ouch, right to the core with your comments," he tells me, and kneels beside the tub. "How long have you been up?"

I shrug, and reply, "About fifteen minutes or so, why?"

"No reason," Mark says, moving a few wet strands of hair out of my face. "What do you want to do today?"

"I don't know," I tell him. "What's the schedule for the rest of the week?"

Mark puts his finger into the warm water, watching as he wiggles it around in the bubbles, and says, "Well, today is Luke's last day of school before break, and he's got to go visit his mom in Washington on Friday. He wants to open presents here tomorrow night, before he has to go." I smiled at him, and rest my head on the titled wall. "What was that smile for?"

"Mark, you assume that every time I smile, I'm scheming," I reply.

"That's because most of the time, you are," he retaliates.

I shake my head in mock innocence, and say, "But I'm not, I swear!" I smile deviously at him. "We've got today to ourselves."

"And Glenn is going to try to talk to Shell today, and should be out for a while Christmas shopping," Mark returns, and smiles just as evilly. "Got an idea in that head of your's yet?"

I roll my eyes at him, and say, "You men are all the same. Anytime you've got a woman alone for the day, your dicks do the thinking for you."

A mock look of anger crosses his face. "I happen to think my dick is pretty damn smart," he says in a totally serious tone before laughing with me at the statement.

"Will you get out of here so I can dress," I ask, waving my hand toward the door, "or would you rather have a raisin as a girlfriend?"

He thinks the thought over, then gives a look of disgust and replies, "Nope, I think I'll leave." He stands upright, and walks into the bedroom, closing the door.

I pull the drain to the bathtub before stepping out and drying off. Quickly, I dress into my jeans and T-shirt, brush my hair until it shines, and brush my teeth. Once I give myself a double once-over, I go into the bedroom, where Mark waits. "Well?" I ask, turning for him to see.

A whistle of approval comes from him. "Very nice," he says, his eyes glimmering with mischief. "What did I do right?

"You should be asking, `what did I do wrong?'" I reply, and pick up my mini-backpack/purse. "Let's go out for a while. Do some last minute shopping. Prices are usually slashed about this time."

Mark groans and rolls his eyes at the suggestion as he stand up. "Do I gotta?" he whines. "I've got some other ideas for us." He smiles again. "And they involve staying in."

"I'm not falling into your trap, Mister Man," I reply, "and yes, you do have to come. I want your opinion on your son's gifts."

Within the hour, we're out in the nearest mall, cruising through the aisles of KB Toys. While there, I'm tempted to make him wear a Santa cap, but think against it as I see the bored look on his face. As I pick up another toy for his nodded opinion, I say, "You know, if you want to go home, we can."

"No, it's not that," Mark replies, taking the toy I hand him and place it in the cart. "I was just thinking about yesterday."

The event of yesterday floats back into my mind, and all I can get out though my lips is, "Oh?"

"Yeah," Mark responds. "I was just thinking about how Glenn had treated you, and how easily you forgave him." I look up at him, but he stops to look over a few of the WWF action figures across the aisle, so I can't see his expression.

"They never can get the eye color right on those things," I comment, trying to lighten the mood.

"You seem especially sweet towards Glenn," Mark continues on, ignoring my desire to change the subject. "It makes me suspicious."

I sigh heavily, and continue down the aisle. "Mark, I'm not going to argue with you over such a trivial thing as that," I comment. "He's a friend, and that's all."

"That's what you want me to believe, but how am I supposed to know that's true?" he replies softly as he rejoins me. "We're not around each other as much as I'd like us to be, so I wouldn't know much."

Exasperated, I turn to look into his intense green eyes. "Would I still be with you if I found Glenn so much more interesting?" I state. "Would I drag you down here to go shopping with me for your son if I wanted to spend time with Glenn? So maybe we don't spend so much time together, but the time we do spend together is precious to me." I take his hands into mine. "You know there's no one else but you. You and Mel Gibson."

He sort of smiles in response to the joke, and I turn back to our cart. I hear him mumble to himself behind me, something like "That's what they said, too, and look where those situations ended up."

"What happened to that overly-hormonal guy that I've been dating for the past month?" I ask over my shoulder.

"He took a break about an hour ago, when we arrived at the mall," he replies, coming up to the cart again.

I turn to him, and respond, "I can't help it if we women like to shop, `cause that's what makes us female. You wouldn't be dating me if I wasn't, you know!" I gently punch him in the arm, and a real smile finally breaks his face. "I promise, another hour, and then we'll go home." Another groan escapes his throat.

When we do get home, we spend most of the late morning wrapping the presents we had bought, having tape wars, and I personally try to make Mark forget his untrue accusations, even if he did call them `suspicions'.

By the time Luke races through the door, we've cleaned up our mess, put the presents under the huge tree, and are watching TV while snuggling on the sofa. "Hey you," I say to him as he comes into the living room.

He walks over with a smile on his face, and hugs me tightly, replying, "Hi Ally." He gives his father an embrace as well, and immediately sits between us. "I'm so glad school's over for a few weeks!"

"I'm sure you are, Luke," Mark says to him with a laugh. "Got anything to do over the break?" Luke shakes his head. "That's good. I remembered when the teachers would do that to us just to annoy us."

"Maybe it was just you they hated," I tease him. He tries to lunge for me, but both Luke and I manage to wrestle him to his back.

At the end of the night, after we've tucked Luke into bed, we manage to get some quiet time to ourselves. We sit on the sofa in the study, his arm tightly around the front of my shoulders as I snuggle against his body, listening to him as he reads aloud from a book in the firelight. "I wonder where Glenn is," I comment as he breaks to turn a page. "Seems like he's made up with Shell." I smile slyly at Mark, but he doesn't return my humor as he closes his book and sets it on the table. "What?"

"You seem awfully concerned about Glenn…again," he comments, taking his arm away from my body, and my shoulders are instantly hit with shivers. He looks into the fireplace. "Why do I even bother sometimes?"

"Mark, look at me right now," I command, sitting upright. He turns to look at me again, although it seems out of reluctance. "You know, I don't know what I have to do to convince you that I'm not cheating on you or anything of the sort." He allows me to gently touch his hand, so I take it into mine. "I know your first marriage wasn't so great, Mark, and neither was your second one; they're almost like my own past now. You don't have to hide that fact anymore, but there's a good thing that came out of it all, and that was Luke. I see how proud he makes you, and how you positively stick out your chest when the other guys are around and telling you about how great a kid he is."

"All fathers are supposed to do that," he comments slowly, turning his gaze to the book on the coffee table. "Didn't your's?"

I choke back the sob at the thought of my father, and nod, replying, "Yes, he did, but Greg didn't, and I couldn't understand that. Not all kids have as great a father as Luke does. I love how gentle and caring you are to him, and that is considerably attractive to me." I sigh when he doesn't look up. "What I don't like is how you compare my actions to both of your ex's."

"I do not!" Mark immediately protests, standing up in outrage,

"Yes you do!" I shout back, standing up as well. "It's the damn truth, Mark, and to be frank, I'm getting just a bit sick and tired of it. They weren't the perfect marriages, and this probably isn't your idea of a perfect relationship either, but for me, it's the best I've had, and the best I ever will experience."

"How dare you twist everything to make it seem like you're the victim!" Mark shouts, pointing his finger harshly at me. "Since when do you get off on telling me what's right and wrong? You haven't the slightest idea what it's like to be in a situation like I was!"

"I don't, do I?!" I yell in return, tears welling up in my eyes before finally spilling over at the thoughts in my head, thoughts from my teenage years. "Let me tell you, Mark, I've seen so much worse that it'd make your messed-up marriages seem like the fantasy fairy tales! My mom married an abusive alcoholic, and he cheated on her with her own daughter and four other girls about my age at the time. Trust me, Mark, I know worse than you could ever possibly think of." The hot tears of watered salt are running down my chin and neck, flying into the air, and falling straight onto my jeans. "I can't even begin to explain how guilty and hurt I felt about everything that my mother went through during that marriage. Not only did I remind her of my father, but I also reminded her of the horrible experience she had with that man. He hit her, hard and repeatedly. I don't think you even had one abusive thought in your head during either of your marriages, even at the end. Damn, Mark! Can you, for one minute, see that I would never wish that type of pain and anguish on anyone, even my enemies? For once, think of how good you and Luke have it, always the best of friends, and of how I can't possibly live without you in my life, not how hard your lovelife has been."

I turn away from him, wiping the tears off my cheeks, and trying desperately to stop; crying is a sign of weakness, I've always thought, and it hurts so much to show that I can cry. Mark tries to put his arms around me, but I violently pull away from the comfort they offer. "Ally, I'm sorry baby," he says gently. "I-I didn't mean to overreact. I'm just overly-suspicious because that's how both of my marriages ended, you know?" He sighs heavily. "I never meant to hurt you or make you cry or anything. I didn't want you to resort to bringing your past up again."

I turn back around, rubbing my eyes to stop the tearing and sniffling. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Mark," I tell him. "I just wanted you to know that I can't love anyone else when my heart's been stolen by you. You just made me so damn angry when you seemed to compare our relationship with your past tragedies." He places his arms around my body tightly, and I melt into his embrace, putting my arms around him. "Mark, I love you, and I'm tired of trying to convince you of it."

"I'm finally convinced, Little One," he softly laughs, and kisses the top of my head. He releases my body, but captures my hand before I can pull too far away. "I think we should get going to bed."

I lightly laugh at him, and say, "No matter how many sweet nothings you whisper in my ear, I'm not giving my body up for your hormones."

"Damn!" he exclaims with a sly smile. "I was so close." I punch his arm, and lead him toward the stairs.

"Daddy, Ally, wake up!" Luke says, jumping on the bed. I open one eye, and watch the boy jump up and down. "Come on, you said I could open presents before I have to go to Mom's tomorrow."

"Luke, I think your father meant later tonight," I grumble, closing my eye again, and snuggling closer to Mark.

"Come on, please?" he continues, shaking my shoulder. I crack my eyes open as he moves over to Mark's side, shaking him as well. "Please, Daddy?"

"Later, later," Mark mumbles, trying to cover his head with the blanket.

Luke grabs the blanket, and pulls it off the bed. "But you said so," Luke argues.

A sigh comes from beside me. "Go get Glenn up then," Mark replies, sitting up slowly. A smile grows on Luke's face as he runs out the bedroom door. Mark chuckles as he looks down at me, watching me trying to cover a yawn with my mouth. "Morning, you."

"Morning to you, too," I respond, sitting up to kiss his cheek. "I need some coffee. Want some?" Mark nods, and I untangle myself from the bedcovers. As I walk down the hall toward the stairs, I can hear Glenn protesting to Luke's pleas.

Ten minutes later, the coffee is made, and set on the table in the living room. Glenn is finally coming down the stairs as I pour the steaming liquid into the three mugs. "Morning," he yawns out as he plops down into the armchair, grabbing a mug.

"Morning," Mark responds as I hand him a mug and sit beside him. "You look like you might need a few pots."

"Shut up," Glenn replies, then takes a long drink out of his mug.

"Can I start now?" Luke impatiently asks, sitting by the tree. When the three of us nod, he tears into the first present.

Once Luke finishes all his unwrapping, he smiles up at us. "I love it all!" he tells us.

"Just wait till you come back from your mother's," Mark returns. "Wonder if there are cargo holds big enough for that stuff."

"Oh yeah!" Luke exclaims, jumping up, and racing toward the stairs. "I got you guys some presents. Be right back!"

"This outta be good," Glenn comments with a laugh.

Luke nearly stampedes down the stairs, and hands Glenn and Mark a gift-wrapped box. "Your's and Ally's are together," Luke explains to Mark.

"I'll go first then," Glenn announces, ripping apart the paper. He opens the box, dropping the lid in front of him. "Aw, Luke, it's great, buddy." He holds up a T-shirt with some of his favorite bands plastered everywhere. He grabs Luke in a hug. "Thanks, bud."

"You're turn," Luke says after he gets out of Glenn's grip and walks over to us. "Open it." Mark rips the paper open, and opens the box. Inside is a dark blue photo album. "It has pictures of you two and me in it. Glenn and Shell helped me make it."

I take it out of the box, opening it. "It's beautiful, Luke," I tell him, looking at and remembering some of the pictures.

Mark flips through a few pages. Some of the pictures came from some wrestling magazines, and the rest were from when we were all together at home. "Very beautiful, son," Mark replies, grabbing his son in a hug.

Once he manages to escape his father, I catch him in another hug. "I'd say this is one of the best Christmas's ever," I comment. The other three nod as we begin to clean up.

The next morning, we saw Luke off at the airport. As the plane takes off, I can tell how hard this is on Mark. Going through this every year, I can't begin to imagine the pain I'd feel. "He'll only be a phone call away, Mark," I tell him softly.

"I know," he replies, just as softly. "I just wish it wasn't every year. I hate joint custody!"

I put my arm around his waist, saying, "Well, you know, you don't have to share me with anybody. We've got all weekend to ourselves."

He looks down, and smiles at me slightly. "Thanks, Ally," he says, taking my hand. "Let's get out of here."

The weekend passes by quickly, leading us to a show that a lot of us wished we could have taped last week instead of coming on Christmas Day. Glenn, Mark, and I enter the arena, and already, a cold chill goes down my spine; a chill of something bad. Mark sees my shiver, and with concern, asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah, just cold," I lie. He put his arms around me, and I lean against him gratefully.

After watching the guys practice in the ring for a few hours, I head to the dressing room to change. As I adjust my ring attire the right way, a ringing sounds from the main part. I head out, and notice the ringing coming from my bag. I pick up my cellphone, press the talk button, and put it to my face. "Hello," I say cheerfully.

"Hello, is this Alisha O'Malley?" an Irish-accented voice asks uncertainly.

"This is," I answer, becoming somewhat concerned. "Who's this?"

"Ah, Ally, this is your uncle Paddy," the voice answers. "I just wanted to see how ye were holding up."

"Holding up?" I restate, confused. "Paddy, what do you mean?"

"I guess ye haven't heard then, eh?" he says with a sigh.

"Heard what?!" I demand.

"Chile, sit down for me, okay?" he asks. When I do what he instructs, he continues. "I'm sorry t' be the one to have to tell ye this, wee one." He sighs heavily. "Your Mama, Ally, she's passed on."

The words hit me like a brick wall. "Sh-She's dead?" I respond in a whisper, my voice quivering.

"Aye, Ally, she passed on Christmas morn," Paddy answers. "She be with your Papa now." I heard him take a sharp breath. "I'll send ye some tickets to come t' Ireland for a week or two, wee one. The funeral's over here, where she'll be buried beside your Papa. How many people are in your family?"

Absentmindedly, I answer, "Four."

"All right, chile," Paddy says, then asks for the address. I give it to him without thinking. "You'll be gettin' those tickets in a few days. See ye soon then, Ally, and be strong."

"Goodbye, Paddy," I strain to say, then press the off button. I stare at my cellphone for the longest time, then anger sifts to the surface. I throw the phone clear across the large locker room. It hits the brick cement wall with a crash, breaks into pieces, and falls rapidly to the floor. After the broken pieces hit the tiles, I slowly sink to the floor myself, somehow managing to get myself in the dark corner, my arms clutching my knees to my chest, and the tears begin to crawl down my face, burning my skin as they do so.

I don't know how long I sit on the floor with my head hidden in my arms, nor if any time passes at all. All I know is that my one last relative that I could count on has vanished from my life. I hear the locker room door open, but then, for a moment, all is quiet. A shuffling of footsteps come toward me, and Mark asks, "Ally, what is it?"

I look up to see Mark kneeling in front of me, all set in his ring attire. He points back to where the busted phone lays. "I walked in, and saw your cell busted up to hell," he explains. "Then you're sitting here, scrunched up like some kinda caged animal." I can only blink in pain, and place my face back into my arms. Mark takes my arms from around my knees. "Talk to me." I look up into his eyes, but the words won't come. A smile comes to his lips. "For once, she's speechless. You look like a raccoon, do you know that?"

I can imagine how I look: mascara all over my face, and tear stains to complete the worn-out, crying look. "You're an ass, Mark," I reply, my throat thick with emotions running ramped. "You really are."

"But that's what you love about me, right?" he responds. When I don't return his smile, he finally sits down completely, the smile being replaced with stone seriousness. "Ally, what's wrong?"

The thought of the words on my lips brings a fresh batch of tears to my eyes. "My mother," I can only choke out. I fall forward into Mark's arms, the tears coming fast and furious, soaking his denim shirt. Comfort comes as he holds me tightly, gently caressing my back. "She's gone, Mark. She's gone."

For what seems like hours, we sit like this; him comforting with his soft words and gentle hands, and me soaking him with my tears. The door suddenly creaks open, and both Mark and I look up to see Vince enter the room, wondering at the broken cellphone just inside the room. He turns to look at us, and with concern asks, "What the hell happened here?" Mark helps me to my feet, and we turn to face our boss. Vince points a finger at Mark. "You didn't hurt her again, did you?"

"No," we respond. I take a deep breath and wipe my face before adding, "I got some bad news, and got so angry that I threw my phone into the wall."

"What bad news?" Vince next asks.

I gulp silently before replying, "My mother passed away this morning."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Vince responds. He tries to say something else, but is dumbfounded. "What happened?" I shrug my shoulder. "Well, do you need some time off or something?"

"No, I-" I try to tell him.

Mark interrupts, "Yes, she does." I glare at him, but he just continues on. "Glenn and I will be taking time off with her."

"All right, I think that's acceptable," Vince comments. "I want you three back in two weeks. We've got the Rumble coming up, and I've got enough plans to change."

"Don't worry, we'll be back," Mark assures him. Vince walks out, telling us that he'll have the leave papers written up by the end of the night.

After the door closes, I shout, "What did you do that for?!"

"Because you're gonna need the time off," Mark replies. "You don't think you're gonna be able to work with this on your mind, do you?" He sits himself down on a bench.

"I can make my own decisions, you know," I respond bitterly, crossing my arms over my chest.

Mark smirks, and says, "Yeah, I know, but sometimes, you're too close to the situation to know what's best." I roll my eyes, and sit down beside him, leaning against him as he put his arms around my body.

Throughout the night, Mark and Glenn stay by my side. That is, until they have to go for their tag match. They then enlist the help of Joanie and Hunter, having them keep me in the locker room. I protest, but give in just as much.

Luke runs from the terminal with a wide grin plastered on his face, and leaps into Mark's arms. "I'm so glad to be home!" he tells us as Mark places him back on his feet. He looks up at me. "You look like you didn't sleep."

I lopsidedly smile at him. He's right; I didn't sleep. I couldn't sleep after learning my mother had died. It just wouldn't come. "You're right, I didn't," I reply.

"Let's go get your stuff," Mark quickly intervenes, taking Luke's hand. "How much more stuff did you come home with?"

"Not too much," Luke answers with a laugh as we start toward the baggage claim. "They could get it all on the plane."

After retrieving Luke's luggage and the few boxes of gifts, we head home.

"So anything new in Washington?" Mark asks as we exit the airport parking lot.

"Mom's engaged to some loser who finds it funny when he calls me `Luke Skywalker'," Luke replies, staring out the window. "I don't like him at all." The rest of the ride home is practically silent after that.

As Mark carries the boxes inside the house and upstairs, Luke and I sit on the sofa, and Luke asks, "So why didn't you sleep? And aren't you guys supposed to be at a show?"

The moment I dreaded the most has arrived. "Um, well…" I stammer to talk. "I got a call yesterday from my uncle. My mother passed away yesterday morning."

"What!" Luke exclaims. He shakes his head in disbelief. "That can't happen! Yesterday was Christmas!"

I nod, tears coming to my eyes again, but I blink them back. "I know, Luke," I reply. "And it did. I was in complete shock."

I look at Luke; I can see the redness of his eyes as he begins to shed his tears. I pull him into a tight hug, and he returns it. "It's all right, Luke," I whisper to him as he begins his sob, stroking his hair.

When he finishes his cry, he sits back up, sniffling and rubbing his eyes. "What about Slayer?" he asks.

I shrug, and reply, "Maybe we can talk your dad into letting him come here." Luke nods, still rubbing his eyes. "We're going to Ireland tomorrow for the funeral on Friday."

"I always wanted to go to Ireland," Luke sadly tells me. "I just didn't want to go this way."

I put my arm around the boy's shoulders. "We'll be staying with my uncle Paddy for about a week," I say to him. "You can meet some of my other relatives."

"What kinda name is `Paddy'?" Luke asks, his nose scrunched up.

"Irish," I comment, then smile. "What kinda name is `Luke'?"

"Mine!" Luke replies, lunging toward me. A little wrestling match ensues.

"Ally!" comes Paddy's voice from off to the right of the terminal. I see him waving toward us, and tighten my hold on Mark's hand as we make our way over to him. "It's so good to see ye again!" Paddy says as he gathers me into his arms.

"Good to see you, too, Paddy," I reply, hugging the older man whom resembles my father so much. I pull out of his arms. I point to Glenn. "This is Glenn." I take Mark's hand again, and find Luke's hand in my other one. "And this is Mark, and his son, Luke."

"Well, hello to you all!" Paddy says as he shakes hands with them. "I'm Ally's uncle, Paddy, her father's older brother." He glances at the wall clock. "We've got to get moving. Let's go get all your things, and head on to the house. Everyone's waiting to see ye, Ally."

"I can imagine," I say as we walk toward the baggage claim area.

Paddy turns to smile at me. "The last time the family saw you was when you were a wee chile," he comments, putting his hand at his waist level. "You've grown so much!"

I finally break into a smile, and reply, "Yeah, I know. I kinda had no choice; I had to grow up." We reach the baggage claim area, and begin to grab our luggage. I look at Mark, and lean toward him as I reach for my suitcase. "What's this, speechlessness?"

He smirks at me as he hands me my luggage. "What did you expect?" he responds, grabbing his own luggage. I shrug, and we follow Paddy out to the car.

Not long after we cruise through the countryside, we reach Paddy's grand house. "Home sweet home," Paddy calls out as we step out of the car.

"It looks even bigger than I remember it, Paddy," I tell him as we make our way into the house.

As soon as the front door is opened, someone loudly shouts, "She's here!" Everyone turns toward the door, and immediately, I recognize many faces from my past. "Welcome home, Ally!" a large amount of them shout. A few of the guys take our luggage up the huge staircase. "C'mon, Ally, don't want to be a stranger to your own family," Paddy says, shooing me toward the large gathering. He pushes Mark, too. "You join her."

I have to laugh as we start toward the group. I introduce Mark to many of the older relatives, whom had never seen wrestling. After many conversations, we head to the part of the family I don't know what to think about: all the cousins that are around my age. "Sorry about ye mother, Ally," my cousin Patrick says, pulling me into an embrace. "She was one helluva woman." When we pull away, he looks up at Mark. "Wait…I know you. Aren't ye the Undertaker?"

Mark sort of chuckles, and replies, "Yeah, that's me."

"Patrick, this is Mark aka the Undertaker," I introduce, then turn to Mark. "This is my cousin Patrick. He's a pretty cool guy, when he's not chasing a skirt." I give Patrick a sly smile.

Patrick punches my arm. "Hey, didn't he beat the crap outta you back in the summer?" he inquires, his demeanor changing to confused anger. "Last month, too, now that I come to think about it."

I see that a big argument could erupt out of this, so I quickly change the mood. I laugh, and answer, "Well, yeah, but all that was scripted. Everything's all right between us, Patrick. I'm a big girl, and I can fight my own fights now." Patrick finally smiles again. I spot a couple of tables with food and drinks, and realize how thirsty I am. "Patrick, show Mark around for a minute while I get a drink." Patrick nods, and I turn to Mark. "Want anything?"

"No, I'm fine," Mark answers.

I make my way over to the tables, and grab myself a can of soda. When I return to the crowd, I notice a few apples of the family tree that I despise talking to Mark; two female cousins, about my age, who have been labeled sluts. Casually, I walk back over, and interrupt their little chat. As soon as I walk up, the two cousins stop talking, and glare angrily at me. "Lizzie, Bren," I curtly say to them.

"Ally," they both reply with the same curtness. "We were just talking with this fellow that Patrick introduced us to," Lizzie explains, motioning toward Mark. "He's a wrestler, don't ya know, and part Irish."

"Is he now?" I mock interest, glancing at Mark briefly before returning my gaze to my cousins.

Bren smiles wickedly, and says, "Aye, and `tis a shame you aren't into men anymore, deary." Her wicked smile turns into a sweet one as she looks back to Mark. "He is one fine fellow. Now, what were ye saying about bein' married before she interrupted?"

"Actually, I'm not married anymore, but I am in a relationship," Mark answers with a slightly sly smile.

"Such a shame," Lizzie comments. "Bein' away from her must be pretty much a strain on ye heart, especially when Ally here drags ye away from her."

I have to hide a smile as Mark replies, "Well, no, not really."

Both Lizzie and Bren smile at the comment, and ask, "Why's that? Nothing seriously wrong, is there?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Mark says, then nonchalantly slides his arm around my waist as he goes on. "It's just not a strain when we're always following each other."