Before leaving, the Canadian had gone to Stephanie's office, the redhead by his side, as he couldn't bear to leave her alone after her horrible fright - and he'd told the General Manager what had happened.  That is, he'd explained as best he knew how, since he still didn't know for sure what the hell was going on.

The brunette had frowned with concern and confusion, wondering, like him, how a plate, fork and cup of coffee would have such a terrible effect on Amy.  Neither one of them could figure it out - but somehow, Adam knew there were missing pieces to this puzzle.

As he'd escorted the diva out of the arena, they'd gone down the hall the way they'd come.  Adam hadn't even bothered with a shower before leaving - although he was sweaty, there hadn't been any time to waste.  He knew that the most important thing was to get Amy the hell out of there.

Now, back in their rental car, the blond man buckled himself into the driver's seat, and he glanced over at his stricken fiancee.  The redhead was still so obviously afraid of something - what exactly, he wasn't sure.  With still shaking hands, she managed to secure her seatbelt.

"God damn it..." the tall blond man muttered, gritting his teeth, his strong jaw firmly set.  He felt so damned helpless.  He wished he knew what he could do to help Amy, but he didn't have a fucking clue...

"I...I'm sorry, Adam..."

He turned his head sharply to gaze at the redhead, who was now slightly slumped in the passenger's seat, her arms crossed loosely, yet protectively, over her chest.  A sharp, loving type of pain suddenly inhabited his chest at how very small and vulnerable she looked...

"Oh, sweetie..."  Adam reached over for her hand, grasping it firmly but gently, lovingly.  "Why are you apologizing?"

"Because of...the way I acted back there," she said, her voice nearly a whisper as she gazed sadly into his eyes.

"Ames...baby," the blond Canadian spoke, "whatever in hell is going on, it's not your fault...We'll find out what all of this means - together."  He leaned across the seats to press a kiss firmly on her lips, and the redhead responded, grateful for the contact, his love and immeasurable understanding.  She wondered what she'd ever done to be so fortunate as to have him.

Sometimes, deep down, she didn't feel she deserved someone as good and fine as him...

*

"Hey, have you seen Adam and Amy again?" Kurt Angle asked as he spotted Brock Lesnar several feet away in the hall as he exited his locker room.

"No, man...Actually, I stopped by the locker room after my shower to see how she was doing, but...they're gone," the bigger man replied.  He shook his head.  "Whatever happened, it really spooked that poor woman."

"I know," the Olympian replied, his expression sad.  "I've never seen Amy like that.  It's a shame, what they're both going through - they're good kids.  They don't deserve that..."

"Hey, what's going on, guys?"

The two men looked up to see Trish Stratus several feet away.  The little blonde was dressed in a pair of worn blue jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt with 'Toronto' printed across the front, done in glossy red.  She pulled her wheeled suitcase behind her in her right hand.

"Trish...Hi," Kurt said, barely managing a smile for the petite diva due to the dire situation.

"Hello, Miss Stratus," Lesnar replied with a polite nod, which caused the blonde to arch an eyebrow in surprise - she'd forgotten how very formal Brock could be with people he didn't know too well, and she certainly fell into that category.

"Please, Brock - call me Trish."

"Sorry - Trish."

"What's going on?" the petite Canadian asked, glancing from The Next Big Thing to Angle with confusion.  "I just stopped by Adam's locker room, but neither he nor Amy are there...and I know I heard you just mention them."  She looked pointedly at the Olympic Gold Medalist.

Kurt shook his head.  "I guess after what happened earlier, they must have left."

"After what happened earlier?" Trish parroted.  "What happened earlier?"

"Well, I don't exactly know," Angle said.  "But we heard a scream, and then Brock and I ran to Adam's locker room, because that was where it seemed to come from..."

The blonde diva's eyes widened somewhat, a sickening feeling coming over her.  She wondered what had spooked her friend so badly.

"Yeah," Lesnar said.  "And sure enough, it was Miss Dumas...I mean Amy who screamed.  She was on the floor and looked totally freaked out."

"Oh, God..." Trish breathed.  She shut her eyes tightly for a beat, again wondering what had happened.  She supposed Amy had not been asleep this time, so her visions of whatever must have happened in the past must be coming in even stronger now, more demanding.  She shook her head, running a hand through her long blonde hair.

"Trish!  There you are!"

The blonde, as well as Brock and Angle, turned to glance in the direction of the voice and saw Matt and Jeff Hardy rushing their way.

The dark-haired man, the one who'd spoken, reached the diva first.

"We were just looking for you in the women's locker room, but Dawn Marie told us you'd left."

"Yeah...I went looking for Amy and Adam, but they weren't in their locker room."  Then, glancing from the elder to the younger brother, she said seriously, "Guys, something happened...According to Kurt and Brock, Amy freaked out."

"Oh, shit..."  Jeff, who'd been silent up until now, muttered.  He ran a hand through his blue locks.  "What happened?"  He looked at Angle as he asked the question.

"None of us know," Kurt replied, gesturing helplessly.  "I suppose it's something to do with what happened with the baby...Poor girl..."

None of them noticed Paul Heyman lurking several feet away as he spied and eavesdropped on their conversation.  If one of them had looked his way, he or she would have noticed the satisfied smirk on the man's face.