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Adam stared ahead at nothing as he sat on a chair in his locker room.

His mind was about a million miles away as Chris Benoit spoke, discussing strategies for their match later that night.

"Hellp? Earth to Adam!" the Crippler spoke, waving a hand in front of the blond man's face.

Adam snapped out of it and back to reality.

"Oh, hey...sorry, man. I guess I just blanked out for a second there, huh?"

"More like for the entire twenty minutes I've been here..." Benoit countered. "Look, you know the drill...I've got to head back to my locker room, so I'll see you later..."

"Okay..." Adam said, raking a hand through his hair as he stood up to see the other man out. "And sorry about spacing out on you..."

"No problem - as long as it doesn't happen in the ring..."

As soon as the Wolverine was gone, Adam stared at the closed locker room door for a beat, his nerves running circles on him. He was distracted by Amy and by everything he knew and suspected. He knew the Hardys knew a lot more than he did, and it tore him up inside.

No matter what, however, he knew one thing for certain - the redhead needed counseling. Even though she didn't remember or realize that the dreams she was experiencing were in fact memories, she still needed it...

Adam had to think up a way to broach the subject of this with the diva. He didn't want to frighten her - although, lord knew, she was already terrified. But when he really got down to it, the only way to do that was to just spit it out to her - gently but firmly tell her straight out...

At the very moment, she was not even here... She was in the divas' locker room, speaking with Trish about their respective spots on SmackDown that night. The blond man knew, however, that she'd be back soon enough - and then, there would be no more stalling...

Then, as though she'd read his mind, a knock sounded at the door. Instinctively, Adam knew it was Amy and no one else. And when he opened the door, sure enough, it was her.

"Ames..." Adam breathed, his face taking on a look of concern.

Surprisingly, the redhead smiled.

"Trish and I had some good girl talk..." she said, and she reached out and hugged him.

Adam wrapped his arms around the diva, a wince coming to him at how very slender she felt in his arms. She was by no means 'fragile,' but damn if she didn't feel that way in his embrace at that moment.

He rested his chin on the top of her head, gently rubbing against her long auburn hair. His hands were gentle as they held her around the waist. He couldn't help the uneasiness he was feeling.

Amy pulled back slightly so as to gaze up into his green eyes. She frowned when she noted the worry therein.

"What's wrong?"

"Err...Well, funny you should ask that..." he began, and he allowed one of his hands to travel to hers. He squeezed her fingers gently as he decided to just broach the subject that was so prevalent in his mind.

"I think you need some therapy, baby..."

The redhead met his eyes sharply, and her expression darkened at his words.

"Therapy? Adam what are you talking about? How can you not believe I heard that maniac's voice the other night? You of all people should believe me!"

"I do..." Adam said, hating himself for the fact that he was lying about that. While he didn't doubt she had heard this man's voice, he had doubts that she'd heard it anywhere other than her subconscious.

"But Amy, something is going on with you, and you need it taken car of - and sooner rather than later..."

"Don't you patronize me, Adam Copeland! I'm telling you, I heard John's voice last night! I-"

"You remember the guy's name?" Adam asked, interrupting her.

She eyed him, a look of stark terror now clear in her hazel eyes.

Dear God... The blond man held his breath in anticipation. He now wanted more than ever to get to the bottom of this horrifying mystery...