It's Just Rose.

This was it. This was my chance to get a streak going, and show Cancer that even if I don't care about winning or losing I'm still going to try and win. I had Harvey locked in, and just needed to drive him into the mat with the Stop Laughing At Me in order to get him in position to wrap him up with the Smile For Me and call it a night.

That's when the pain kicked in, and the taste of sweaty balls settled in the back of my throat. Then everything went white before I dropped to my knees, and the beads of sweat that had collected on my brow formed a small puddle beneath me on the mat. The Poor Whoresmen’s token old guy had just countered my eye poke with a low blow, and I had somehow fallen victim to one of my own tricks for the second time tonight.

I needed to shake this off before…oh damn, it was too late. I felt his arm wrap around my neck, then as I was yanked forward I saw the mat getting closer before I even had a chance to blink.

The whistles from the crowd were louder than before, for some reason they hated Harvey more than they hated me so I knew better than to get excited, but it felt kind of good. I've only really felt this way once before – in the match I had against Paxton – when I advanced to the second round of the Almasy. It was time to turn it around, to show Harvey that I still had a little left in the tank and bring home a win for the Bandits.

I was on my back, the lights from overhead bright in my eyes as they blinked open. Elvis Nixon was at my side, so I nodded to reassure him that I was okay to continue. He grabbed my arm when I tried to get up, which was kind of odd considering we were in the middle of a match. Another thing I wasn't expecting to see in the middle of a match, was Harvey lighting up a damn cigarette. The balls on that bastard to…Wait, is that music?

“Daredevil” by Dale Hawkins to be exact.

It could barely be heard above the deafening sound of whistles coming from the thousands of fans in attendance, but it was there. Which means the match was already over; but more importantly, I had already lost.

=-=-=-=-=

“You okay?”

Olivia Henderson nodded slightly, hands clasped together in front of her on the table. Every once in a while she twiddled her thumbs, her gaze focused on the people that went about their day on the other side of the window. She wondered about the types of problems they could be dealing with. Her left eye twitches involuntarily, as the memory of the moment she and her mother had walked in and found her father unconscious on the couch booked a room in the back of her mind.

“I'm worried too, sweetie.”

She swallowed softly as she turned her head to face her mother, her eyes still bloodshot. The two of them had spent most of the night holding each other in comfort, unsure why they had found Tony in that state. Olivia wasn't sure if her mother shared her true concern, which was what would have happened if they wouldn't have returned when they did. If they had not come on this trip with him, he would have been there all by himself.

He could have died alone.

A tear slipped free and trickled down her cheek, only to settle in and get comfortable on her chin. She wanted to wipe it away, but just like the thought that she had continued to push out of her mind, she knew another would take its place.

“Hachis parmentier pour vous deux.”

Lips curled into a smile, as she moved her arms off the table so the waitress could place the plate of food in front of her. It had been hours since they had eaten anything, but despite the rumble from her stomach that said otherwise – she didn't have much of an appetite.

“Thank you,” Olivia said to the waitress.

“Merci beaucoup,” Victoria smiled and nodded to the waitress, then turned back to her daughter. “Nice to know that despite what's going on with your father, you haven't forgotten your manners.”

“Is he…” Olivia looked up at her mother, unable to hold her tears back any longer. “...going to die?”

“I don't have an answer for that right now,” the words did not ease the worry in her daughter's eyes, but she did not have a clue what was going on with Gamble and did not want to give Olivia any false hope. “We don't even know what happened to him yet, sweetie. So how about we enjoy our meal, and pray that when we get back to the hospital someone will have some answers for us.”

“I can't lose him, mom.”

“I know, sweetie,” it was her turn to cry, as streaks of mascara and tears left a trail on her cheeks to mark their journey. Victoria reached across the table and grabbed her daughter's hands, a poor attempt of a smile on her face as the two just sat there in silence. “I don't want to lose him either.”

=-=-=-=-=

“I don't understand what's going on in your head right now!”

I wasn't too sure either, but I couldn't tell her that. I just sat there and stared at her, as quiet as I could be because I didn't want to argue with her about this.

“Does she even know what happened to you?”

I sensed a bit of concern in her words, buried deep beneath the anger that passed through her teeth. I still said nothing, just gave her a nod as affirmation to her last question. I think it made her even more angry, and that was the last thing I had intended to do.

“You need to let her know you can't do it,” I watched her hands go up and her head shake in frustration, it made me wonder why she would react this way.

“Are you even listening to me,” I watched the words roll off her tongue as she asked the question, and all I wanted to do was kiss her.

“I am,” was my response. I didn't take her in my arms and press my lips against hers like I had pictured a thousand times, pretty sure I imagined it every time I saw her face. “but I have a contract to uphold.”

“What happens if next time you suffer more than just a mild concussion,” I'm pretty sure that was a rhetorical question, so I didn't bother to answer it. “You didn't see how worried Olivia was, Antonio.”

“I'm fine,” I tried to reassure her, but it was just another lie among the many I had told her about what was going on. “It's just another match like all the other ones I've been in, probably easier since it's against Dusk’s daughter.”

“Why do you do that,” her scoff caught me off guard.

“Do what?”

“Act like you can beat anyone you step into the ring with.”

Wow, that was a shot to the gut I did not expect.

“This is probably why you keep losing,” she continued. “Harley gave you a concussion and yet you still think Rose's lack of experience gives you some sort of advantage over her. Do you really think you don't have to put in any effort against her?”

“I mean, I'll put in a little effort, but I'm not going to go all out like I'm stepping into the ring with Flamberge.”

“Then why do it at all?”

The words stung, but she was right.

Why do I do it?