Recovery.

[Ayla St. James]

{Kyle was reading the paper carefully. As a wrestler for almost two decades, he'd become adept at reading medical reports and Doctor speak. The report was Ayla's latest blood test results, coming in the mail from her appointment earlier in the week. She'd seemed fine since her promise last week, but Kyle was always sure of the calm before the storm. Probably comes from being a Red Sox fan all those years. Ayla stepped out of their walk in closet, dressed in a low cut blouse and a skirt that showed off her figure.}

You've been reading that all day. How have you not deciphered it by now?

I know every word of it. What bothers me is that it says there's nothing here.

Maybe because I'm ok. Like I said I was.

Even someone recovering from a sickness would have some sort of trace remaining. Platlets, antibodies, some kind of enzyme residue. But there's nothing here. I know it's one of those general blood tests and that means that it won't show everything. But..

{She took the paper from him, sliding it onto the nightstand and she slid her lithe body on his.}

Look, I know you're a worrier. But it was a stomach bug, nothing more. I was sick, I got over it. I wrestled on monday, I was fine. I went to the doctor, like you insisted, and everything came out normal. I'm good to go, ship shape, one hundred percent. I'm going out with the girls tonight, and we're gonna do what we do. You're welcome to come, are you sure you don't want to?

Nahh.. I won't ruin the girls night out. You go, have fun and do whatever it is you girls do.

Oh, you mean dance naked on tables and pleasure each other while random men watch?

Yes, that.

{She giggled sweetly, then leaned down and kissed him softly. She slipped off him, gathering her purse, phone and other essentials. Then took one last glance over at herself in the mirror to make sure everything was in order, then she was out the door.}

Please.. tell me I'm wrong then.

{He picked the paper up again, and resumed his study of it.}

------------------

You know, Kat. You almost had me fooled. If there's anything you learned from your husband it's a fine way with words. The way you can articulate feelings of both negative and positive emphasis with equal amounts of furvor and enthusiam. The problem with all of that is I see right through all of it. The way you pass back and forth between reluctant praise and vengeful insult, it's seemless, really.

Like you were talking out of both sides of your mouth, as you clearly have been.

See, the thing about me is that I speak from my heart every time I open my mouth. Sure, there will be some times where I'll be sitting here, mentioning people and events that have nothing to do with whoever I'm facing that week. Because I don't sit here reading from notes, or spend all week thinking about what I'm going to say. I sit down, hit record, and then the words come from my brain, straight out my mouth, and you get what you get. I didn't come here for any sort of grudge against you, but let me make one thing clear.

That wasn't about what you would do, that was about what you did.

I know all about how you crowed to everyone who would listen about how you "future endeavored" us. Taking all sorts of credit for things you had absolutely nothing to do with. That was what was on my mind when those words came out. So forgive me when I point out that someone who would do that sort of thing..

Is not only a bigger bitch with a worse attitude than I'll ever be.

But also, all that respect bullshit you were spewing, is exactly that. It's a load of crap. You expect me to believe you think I'm one of the best women around, when your first instinct when I took my leave was to try and smear my name with the disgraced of being labeled as "fired". You were grinning like the cat who ate the canary at the thought of using those words against those two names to cement yourself as the head of the starlets. It was like posting a huge neon sign on your office door that says "Don't mess with me, or you'll get what those two got." You can try to deny it all you like, but everything is there in black and white. You can label me whatever you like, bitch, brat, annoying..

But at least I'm not two faced.

My problems with Lockheart stemmed from our actions in the ring. Things got heated, as they do, and words were exchanged. We stopped being professionals for a moment and became vengeful women. You know what?

We got over it, and grew up.

You? Your problems stem from the fact that you think she still wants your husband. You can tell me I'm wrong, but how many times has some floozy come into his life and then your marriage was "so in danger of being over"? My issues stem from my actions, and what I've done to rectify or correct them. Your only concern seems to be petty backstage garbage. The mindless nonsense that makes all those guys out there believe that we're not legitimate competitors. So congratulations, in your efforts to become the best Diamond, you've set us all back a dozen years.

Frickin A, woman.

I'm not real concerned about this whole Heiress thing. Not concerned with your fake respect. Not concerned with your fake fire. Or your petty antics. Just going to go out there, put my heart and soul on the line as I do every week, and let what happens, happens. Because for all my flaws and imperfections that you seem to enjoy nitpicking at, I'm a fighter. You want to try and take that away from me?

I dare you.

Kisses,

Love Ayla.

P.S. For someone who doesn't want to be me, nice of you to steal my schtick.

-----------------------------

{The club night was wandering down, and Ayla was on her way out with a couple of friends. They were laughing and having a grand old time. Being responsible, Ayla reached her hand out to hail a taxi and that caused her shirt to come up a little, showing off a discolored bruise on her side. One of the friends noticed it.}

Ay? What happened to your rib?

{Ayla turned, confused, then looked down. She lifted her shirt up, and saw it. It was about 3 inches long, shaped nearly flat like a pancake.}

Huh? I have no idea.

Must've been when you walked into the bar.

{Ayla had a quick thought of "that was on the other side", but then thought she might not be remembering it clearly, and dismissed it.}

Yea. Must've been.