But you're probably thinking the wrong thing. She's loaded herself on cough syrup to combat a miserable cold that the chill of early autumn (the freeze that begins at the end of August) in her hometown instilled in her during a visit home the week before. To make matters worse, Darcy wasn't at home - he'd gone to an uncle's funeral in the next state with his parents who, by that time, were already trying to bribe him into getting her knocked up so they could fufill some freakish, second-chance grandparent fantasies. Amy had elected not to go because funerals weren't exactly her forte, she didn't need to hear ''So when are you gonna give me grandchildren?'' and, to put icing on the excuse, she was sick with a cold.

She'd rolled the big screen into the bedroom and set up her nightstand with all of the essentials - remote control, various candy items, cola, her cell phone and a bottle of Hydroxycut... you know, to stay in shape despite the bedridden circumstances. Her fitness was a running joke but despite eating like a pig, Amy was lean and toned... which Darcy's best friend was about to find out. When he barged into the room, the tattoo-riddled redhead was adjusting the temperature through the dial next to her bed - standing in full view of the doorway, and wearing exactly what you'd expect a young woman to be dressed in when she was alone and getting ready to lay down.

When the door opened, Amy spun around to find Johnny standing there, uninvited as usual, with his mouth agape.

''God damnit, Johnny! Again?!''

''In my defense,'' he stammered, trying to avert his eyes while pointing to his best friend's wife, ''I did not expect... y'know... the... Superman bra and panties... on Darcy's girl--oh what the hell, I'm gonna die anyway!''

''He's not gonna kill you,'' Amy said while she pulled the comforter off of the bed and cloaked herself in it, ''But if you don't learn to knock, I might. Now what the hell do you want? Darcy's out of town.''

Johnny's panicked eyes suddenly brightened, ''Good! He doesn't need to know I was here,'' he smiled rather falsely, ''Now do you, uhh... you happen to have a gun?''

''You jackass, I'm not gonna shoot you.''

''I need the gun.''

''... How many times do I have to call you a jackass before you get it?''

Seemingly in a random fit, Johnny flailed his arms, ''There were these Armenians... they... damnit! I'm gonna be in a shitload of trouble.''

Amy didn't want to take the bait and continue the conversation. Really, she didn't - but Johnny was Darcy's best friend and, melodramatic as he could sometimes be, his trouble was her trouble in a roundabout way.

She sighed, ''Okay, I'll bite. What did you do?''

''Me? Nothing!'' Johnny squealed, ''I just bought some weed from this dude in Hollywood last night, and then these other guys came over and... Jesus, I'm as good as dead.''

Amy raised her eyebrow. Wasn't pot supposed to slow people down? She shook her head. ''You're high right now, aren't you?''

''... Lil' bit.'' he confessed, ''But that's not the point, Ames! Gimmie your gun!''

''Could you at least do me one favor before you go on your crusade?'' she begged, almost entirely ignoring a situation she knew wasn't as pressing as Johnny was letting on, ''Let me put some clothes on so I'm a little less irritated about having to have this conversation.''

Johnny bowed his head and backed toward the door, but Amy promptly halted him, ''Oh, and while you're out there, go into the bathroom and grab me some Advil.''

The second he was out the door, Aimz made haste in pulling on a tanktop and her favorite Happy Bunny pajama pants. The concept of a nap or lounging in bed all day was lost, but there was no sense not to be comfortable. Now, what did Johnny need...

''You decent?'' he whispered into the door while opening it again, eyes shielded with his hands.

''If I say no will you leave the hou--- well, looks like you're coming back in no matter what. Fuck it - yes, I'm decent - you don't need to worry about the Superman panties.''

She sat on the edge of the bed and patted a seat for Johnny. Some people might think it looked like flirting, but Amy was far more likely to have sex with a mousetrap, ''Now, what's going on?''

''You can't tell Darcy 'cause he'll think I can't take care of myself.''

''Don't worry,'' Amy grinned, ''Your boyfriend won't know a thing.''

''Funny. Anyway, I bought some pot from this Armenian dude... he says it's good, I paid for a brick of the stuff and it turned out to be bunk. So I go back and I might have said something like 'I know people', etcetera...''

Amy rolled her eyes as Johnny continued, ''Then he kinda backs me against the car... my wallet fell out while I was, uhh, scuffling with him.''

''So it fell out of your pocket when you were running like a scared girl into your Prius?''

''Pretty much,'' he nodded, ''But now the guy knows where I live, Ames. And he had a gun... I'm fucked! I need my credit cards, I need everything in the wallet... and I need to make sure that little prick doesn't get at me. So, I need your gun...''

The redhead contemplated things for a moment. Johnny wasn't the smartest guy, and she wasn't sure how he'd even know what an Armenian-born man looked like. Unless...

''John, how exactly did you know the guy was Armenian?''

''I was in Little Armenia, in Hollywood... and dude was covered in tattoos, had 'Armenian' written on his stomach. Killer abs, I was kinda jealous...''

Amy laughed and burst out, ''Crow!'' Meanwhile, Johnny gazed out the window, ''I don't see any birds, and what doe--''

''No, Crow. He's this little Armenian guy who does stunt cycling. I met him a while back at a clothing store, he's a big fan. It was back when I was still drugging, we did some shit... I didn't know he still sells,'' she sighed, ''Sucks to see he's still in that, he was making good money with the FSAS moto team.''

Johnny's clueless look didn't come as any sort of surprise. She continued with a chuckle, ''I'll sort this out. I just need to go on Facebook and get his number again, it's not in my new phone.''

''Drug dealers have Facebook?''

''Dogs have Facebook,'' Amy answered with a sigh, pulling the laptop she'd swapped with Darcy up to her lap from the endtable, ''Just gimmie a second here...'' she said, opening the Macbook up to find the iLife application consuming the desktop, ''Weird, Darcy's got a bunch of doctor's appointments on here...''

''Yeah, his back appointments. So?''

''... His back?''

His back?! Why would he be going to the doctor for his back? It was fine, it had been for years. It'd been half a decade since he'd broken it, and he was doing great. Right? Amy's wide eyes told Johnny to shut the hell up for the sake of his best friend's testicles.

''His, uhh... can you just get this pot guy's phone number? I promise I'll tell you after that.''

''I'll have you by the balls if you don't,'' she growled, furiously mousing through her Facebook Friends page before coming upon the photo of a thick-eyebrowed, heavily tattooed Armenian man with a stretched lip piercing, ''This the guy?''

''Holy shit... yeah, that's him.''

Within a half second Amy had thumbed his listed number into her smartphone and raised it to her ear, smiling when the connection was made, ''Gerard? It's Amy. You've got a wallet... it's my husband's buddy's, if I ever want to have married sex I've gotta get you to drop it off here. Yeah, he is kinda pansy. Anyway... be a peach and bring it down tonight sometime? Sweet. Thanks, see you after dinner! Oh, by the way... how many times have you used your gun? He just wants to know. Nice, have a good one!''

Even though her friend replied 'Never' over the phone, when Amy hung up she raised her brow at Johnny, ''You're lucky you have me, he's killed men for less.''

''Gerard?'' snickered Johnny, deliberately trying to blow off the suggestion that he'd get shot without the little redhead marrying his best friend, ''What kind of ghetto mama names her kid Gerard?!''

''Ahem...''

When Amy cleared her throat, Johnny knew he was licked. He had to tell her...

''Okay, okay... his back is hurt worse than he's letting on,'' he sighed, touching on Amy's prior discovery that Darcy had been going to the doctor without her knowing, ''That's why he tries to take it easy on matches and avoids shows, he doesn't want anyone catching on and injuring it EVEN worse.''

Amy looked way too angry, and John backed away wisely, ''IIIIII... I'm gonna head out, my... uhhh, the wife wanted me to... BYE!''

Once he shot out the door, Amy had to lay back in bed. She shed her clothes again and curled up, hoping to sleep and keep her mind off of what her husband hadn't been telling her.

They wouldn't be meeting up within the next few days, and it was a problem she wanted to deal with face-to-face. In the morning, she was set to take off for pre-event press and, later that day, he would be in the exact same position that she was - comfy and cozy in his own bed. It wouldn't be until the day of the pay-per-view that their paths crossed.

This is gonna be one hell of a match.

DREAMLAND
---------------------------------------
''Kids, breakfast!''

Amelia Markson was flipping pancakes when the toddlers came running. She carefully inspected each one of their faces for smudges or any telltale signs of their playdate earlier in the morning. It was 8:30 AM, far too late for breakfast, and she'd already been awake for three hours. Darcy was tooling around the house, somewhere behind them, when he finally wheeled in after the children.

''Hey hun,'' he smiled, ''Did you mail off the cheque for the light bill? We're gonna be a little tight this month, but it has to be paid.''

''I did. Your disability coverage didn't go far this month.''

Three kids and a wheelchair-bound husband eagerly ran up behind her, Dollarama paper plates ready and in hand to recieve their daily stacks of Aunt Jemima pancakes.

The perfect future. All she could dream of having...
.

.

.

''JESUS!''

Amy screamed and sat up in the bed. She checked the clock - still 2007, and she was still in a hotel with a long day of press ahead of her. She was also still alone - Darcy and his back both laying at home.

But what the hell kind of nightmare had that been?!

MEANWHILE, BACK AT HEADQUARTERS...
Darcy Markson lived practically his pre-professional life entire within the familiar confines of California’s eastern bay. Leaving for a short time on a family vacation, or for longer excursions like his aborted attempt at college, it made no difference – he always knew he’d return. It was home. Save for a list of names that could fit onto the smallest sticky post-it, every person he’d ever met, loved and cherished called East Bay home as well.

And yet, on this idle Wednesday afternoon...he could scarcely recall a time he felt more lonely.

Any professional combatant of the squared circle can readily admit that life on the road is hardly comforting. For over a decade in playing his role/alter-ego of Darcy Crisis, it seemed that Markson had been living out of a suitcase for more days than he cared to count. Rarely could any location hold him for more than a day or two, with three being a luxury he was all too happy to afford when the opportunity was presented. And while leading this life was certainly glamorous, and attracted a staggering amount of fans and followers...they weren’t friends. These were much harder to come by.

Even now, with the years passing and Darcy able to cut back on his schedule to spend more time in the only home he’d ever known, company still was hard to come by. As the big 3-0 rapidly approached, everyone Darcy knew and had grown up with, not counting those who had left for other shores, was fully engrossed in their own full-time occupations, raising families of their own. Truth be told, sitting still was not something that Darcy was quite used to... and while his aching back certainly thanked him for taking the time out to do so, his mind was as restless as ever.

His thoughts were about to once again turn to the aforementioned acclimation when he was jolted by the vibration eminating from his front pocket. Before the reader could take this situation to an unnecessarily dirty place, Darcy reached for his cellphone and flipped it open to answer whoever was about to grant his desire for human interaction. ''Y’ello?'' he answered, trying to sound more enthused than he was.

''Gahhh, I am BORED! What would it take to get you on the next flight out here?''

Darcy smiled. Gazing toward his left hand, he eyed the ring that his caller shared on her own delicate digits. He’d spent practically as long as he could, doing whatever he could think of to postpone his marriage to this woman, for reasons he could no longer understand. Somehow, this symbolic connection he’d always viewed as overstated and over-hyped had proven itself to be the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to him. He had much more than a friend, a lover, a confidant and a tag-team partner...he had them all, rolled into one, as a partner for life.

''I’m tempted, believe me...'' Darcy answered. ''But I really shouldn’t.''

His wife was on the other line, seemingly jostled after waking up in a different timezone. They'd missed one another by mere hours thanks to scheduling conflicts through FUSE, but they'd be reunited before their fight in Washington. She had two matches at the event, in fact. Little did Darcy know, the fiery redhead had a completely different bout in mind at that very moment...

''Alright, stay there then...''

She continued, ''But tell me...

When were you going to tell me that your spine is still like dental floss?''

Darcy swallowed nervously.

Ruh roh...