____________________________________________
Edge found himself relieved when he looked down at the woman in his arms. For once, she was blessedly asleep - and from the looks of it, this time, soundly.
His heart absolutely broke as his mind whirled with all of the unfathomable events that had occurred that night. The thought that his own brother had done *anything* to hurt Lita tore him up inside. And knowing that Christian had done the utmost unthinkable and raped her... Thinking about it all made his head spin and hurt, and it churned his guts. And damn it, he thought he was going to be sick.
In a hurry, but in the gentlest manner he could manage, the tall blond man detangled the redheaded woman from his arms. As quickly and discreetly as he could manage, he placed Lita on the softness of the blanket and pillows, then raced to the bathroom.
Everything was too much for him. He was a man who prided himself on being strong in a multitude of ways, but he'd met his match tonight... His brother had driven him to becoming physically ill - physically ill and to the point of weakness of his mind and body alike as he felt the nausea hit him hard. He hastily raised the toilet seat, leaned over and purged his stomach of all its contents.
In moments, Edge found himself sunken down to his knees, his fingers desperately clutching at the porcelain bowl as he choked and hacked. It was sheer agony. All the images jumbled around his head, making him dizzy on top of the nausea and vomiting.
He raised himself to his feet, his knees shaky as he reached over to flush the toilet. His eyes felt red and irritated as he inched over to the sink. He washed his hands and washed his mouth out - snatching the tiny complimentary bottle of mouthwash the hotel had left - and he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He looked haggard, his eyes slightly sunken in and haunted-looking. His brow was beaded with sweat, his long blond hair mussed. And of course there was the darkening bruise on his jaw where Christian had belted him. He was a fucking mess... He could care less about his physical appearance, however - it was his mental state he cared about. Damn it, he had to be strong for the sake of the beautiful but battered woman laying asleep in the bed just out in the main room. In spite of the fact that she had Trish and Jericho there for her as well, she seemed to be relying mostly on *him*. Edge would be damned if he wasn't the rock she so desperate sought to keep her safe in her time of need.
Rinsing his hands one last time with cool water, the Canadian moistened his sweaty face. He wrung his hands out as he stepped out of the bathroom, sucking in a breath of anticipation as he returned to Lita...
... The diva was still sound asleep in the center of the bed, her head turned slightly toward him in her slumber. One of her arms was curled up beside her head, her legs stretched out in front of her.
Edge cocked his head as he watched her in silence for a moment, his heart catching. This seemed to be the first real bit of sleep the redhead had caught all night, ever since they'd taken her out of that damn hospital. And on that thought, he was grateful Chris had turned up when he had to assist him in getting her the hell out of there. That damn doctor had wanted to drug Lita... What he was now witnessing was enough evidence in his mind that the diva definitely hadn't needed to be medicated.
The tall blond man was suddenly reminded of how very tired he was. He wasn't merely tired - he was downright exhausted,
in both body *and* mind. He needed some rest before their little group faced tomorrow.