______________________________________________________
"Fuck!"
Edge was burning furious as he made his way through the arena in Puerto Rico on his way back to his locker room. He couldn't believe it... He'd gotten screwed over yet again!
The tall blond man barged his way into his locker room, slamming the door shut, his blood pressure skyrocketing. He'd known he'd be a sitting duck in the elimination chamber. He'd just *known* it! In his rage, he punched the locker, a growl emitting from his throat.
Damn that Shawn Michaels to hell! Oh, sure, he'd speared the man, but it had only been an accident! He'd been going for Randy Orton, but the man had moved out of his path at the last split second, and so he'd nailed the so-called "Showstopper" instead. That fucking Michaels was useless! After all, he'd been directly behind Orton!
After that had happened, Edge had managed to get Randy with a spear after all, and then he'd made the cover. That should have eliminated one of his enemies from the match, but the Heartbreak Kid was still down. So, Edge had risen and made his way over to rouse the idiot - only to get superkicked in the face!
"Fuck!" he yelled again, his hands tearing at his long blond hair. He moved one hand to his aching nose, his fingers coming back bloody. Michaels had busted his nose upon the impact of that damn kick. Edge shook his head, rage continuing to course through him as he rummaged through his bag for a change of street clothes. He was so pissed, he didn't even want to bother sticking around long enough to shower. Fuck that. He just wanted to get dressed, grab his stuff, get Lita and get the hell out of here...
... Lita. The tall blond man calmed down immeasurably as thoughts of the redhead penetrated his brain. He wondered how she was holding up right about now. He hoped her knee wasn't feeling as badly as it did earlier. Quickly, he threw off his wrestling boots and tights and put his street clothes back on, then put his shoes on as well. He muttered to himself angrily as he zippered up his bag and slammed the locker shut, then slipped from the room.
He marched down the hallway again, a purpose in his strides as he made his way to the trainer's room. He hoped Lita was still there and guessed she probably was, as he knew the redhead was damn stubborn and probably refused a trip to the hospital. However, he would make her go. Hell, he'd carry her kicking and screaming to the nearest hospital if her knee was that bad!
"Lita?" he asked, ducking into the trainer's room. Sure enough, the hard-headed, stubborn diva was there, still on the examining table. He felt a burst of tenderness take over him as he made a beeline straight for her. "Are you okay, honey?" His right hand snaked out and stroked at her brow, which was clammy.
"It hurts, Edge," she admitted, a wince coming to her lovely face. Her left leg was elevated, and she hadn't budged from her spot since he'd left her earlier. She threw her head back as a cry issued from her lips. She really was in serious pain, and she guessed she probably shouldn't have refused to go to the emergency room.
Edge cast a quick glance at the trainer, then shifted his green eyes back to the redhead. He swallowed the lump in his throat and ignored the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"That's it," he insisted firmly. He reached out for her, gathering the redhead in his arms and pulling her off the table. "I'm taking you to the nearest hospital - and I don't care if you fight me, Lita."
She let out a whimper of pain but held fast to the tall blond man. She shook her head as she met his determined emerald eyes.
"You'll get no argument from me," she managed in spite of her extreme pain.
"Good."