No Way Out 2003
She stood strong in her personal office for the night, tailored suit in perfectly pressed form. Her long brown hair was styled in a slight curl, her blue eyes fixed intently to the television monitor.
SmackDown General Manager Stephanie McMahon wanted all of her brand's matches to go smoothly. She had a reputation to uphold, after all, and she wanted more than anything to prove to her father that she was capable and competent at her job.
She sighed at the thought of always being 'Daddy's Little Girl.' It hadn't been that long before, actually, only a mere few months earlier, that she'd approached Vince to request being put in charge of the roster. She'd wanted more than anything to prove her worth, her leadership skills, and, most importantly, her dedication and success.
She smiled confidently to herself as she stepped out of her office and into the hallway. She wanted to have words with a few members of her staff, not in a bossy way, just to encourage them. She felt an easy smile coming to her lips as she spotted one man in particular, and she allowed her gaze to scan over him as he stood, unaware of her.
To say that Stephanie had never noticed him before would be a lie... a big one. Edge was one of her top superstars, but more importantly, he was exceptionally handsome and an all-around good guy. Even when he'd been teaming with Christian before their split in September of 2001, she'd always sort of found herself attracted to him. And now was certainly no exception.
The tall blond man was standing in a nearby corridor, engaged in a conversation with Chris Benoit and Brock Lesnar, his tag partners for the evening. Stephanie inched nearer, not to overhear the men's discussion but genuinely to wish them luck.
"Stephanie," Benoit, the first to notice her, simply said. He offered her a nod.
The other two shifted their gazes toward her, and the brunette smiled, instantly feeling the delightful ripples running up her spine.
Edge's bright grin nearly had her melting in a puddle.
"Chris," she said, "Brock... Edge." She smiled even larger, unable to move her gaze off of the taller Canadian. God, he was so handsome! He took her breath away. Yeah, she definitely had a crush on Edge. She couldn't deny it, least of all to herself.
"How's it going, Steph?" the tall blond man asked cordially. He raked a hand through his mass of long curls, his green gaze poring into her.
"It's going great," the brunette replied with an appreciative grin. "I just came by to wish you luck. Kick some Team Angle ass out there, will you?"
"For you, Steph, I'll do that," came the reply. He chased that down with a wink.
Benoit and Brock exchanged glances. What was going on here? It was as though they weren't even there.
"Terrific... Well, I'll see you guys later." With that, Stephanie continued on down the hallway. She had a few more people to greet, and then she planned to return to her office to watch the matches.
As she retreated down the corridor, Edge's gaze followed. The moment the clicking of the brunette's heels was no longer audible, Benoit smacked him in the arm with the back of his hand.
"What was that for?" he asked, brought back to his senses.
The Wolverine, although nice, seemed a bit exasperated.
"We were going over strategy," he reminded the taller Canadian. "So, stop with the googly eyes."
Edge frowned.
"I wasn't making googly eyes."
"Yeah, you were," Lesnar offered. "You got a thing for our little General Manager, huh?" He laughed, which surprisingly prompted a chuckle out of Benoit as well.
"Do not," the tall blond man protested, but it was half-hearted. Damn it, he knew deep down that he had a crush on Stephanie McMahon. It was kind of silly, though. Not only was she the boss' daughter, she was also his boss. How could he even think for a second that he would or could ever get a chance with her? Fortunately, Chris changed the subject back to their match strategy.
"Okay, so here's what I propose..."
*
Stephanie hadn't been making rounds in the hallway for too much longer before it happened. She was in the middle of a conversation with one of her show's divas, Torrie Wilson, when a stagehand rushed over.
"Ms. McMahon, come quickly! He's been attacked!"
The brunette's brow furrowed. Great, this was just what they needed to happen, and on such an important night, at a pay-per-view, of all times.
"Who's been attacked?"
"Edge, Ms. McMahon."
Stephanie's heart leapt up into her throat at that moment, and when it seemed to be back in the normal position in her chest, it was hammering much too quickly. In a haste, she followed the backstage worker in a brisk half-run.
She held back a gasp, her very soul filling with horror as she saw him.
He was laying unconscious, his head actually in a trash can, as though he'd been discarded like a piece of trash. For what seemed like eons but was actually only seconds, she simply stared at the scene in disbelief. Who would do this?
Quickly, she sprang back to reality as she realized Chris Benoit and Brock Lesnar were there, attending to Edge as EMTs raced over.
"Be careful," she told them, feeling so small as she rushed over to the fallen Canadian. "Please be careful with him." She felt her eyes welling with tears but held them back.
The EMTs tended to Edge, one man gently pulling him away from the receptacle, another placing a neckbrace on him. Gingerly, the picked him up to get him on a stretcher they'd brought out.
"Careful," the brunette eked out. She was horrified. She wanted to go into the ambulance, ride to the hospital with the blond man, but she knew she couldn't do that. She had the rest of her staff and the show to oversee... She felt awful because of that... But she would definitely make a point of visiting Edge the moment the show ended.
She followed the EMTs as they toted the injured and unconscious wrestler into the back of an awaiting ambulance. As she stood there, she turned and met the intense, concerned eyes of The Crippler.
"Chris, who would do this to Edge?" Stephanie inquired.
Benoit moved his gaze from the now retreating ambulance to his boss' horrified face. He shook his head helplessly.
"I don't know, Stephanie," he said and swallowed hard. "I don't know."