Adam was almost certain that something else might be lying in wait - something that, although innocent unto itself, had sinister overtones and would spook Amy yet again.

As he pushed the door open, he could see nothing awry.  They stepped inside.  Everything certainly looked clear.  But, as he'd come to realize over the last couple of days, looks could be very deceiving.

"Thank God..." the diva breathed, and he knew she meant she was relieved to be back here so she could get some rest.  Then, as though confirming his thoughts, she said, "All I want to do is sleep."

The tall blond raked a hand through his hair as he shut the door, locking it behind him as well.

"Are you going to be okay, Ames?"

"Yeah...as soon as I fall asleep, I'll be fine," she said, then regretted it.  "I...I'm sorry, Adam...I sound like I'm trying to escape from you in sleep.  I-I didn't mean it that way."

"I know," he replied gently, placing a hand on hers as he sat beside her on the edge of the bed.  "But baby, something's really been bothering me since we left the arena..."  That was only partly true, as a lot of things were bothering him - Trish's guess about her past the worst and most pressing.

"What?" the redhead asked as she eyed him speculatively.

"I just...Well, I can't get this out of my mind," the Canadian said, letting out a sigh before he continued.  "Why...What made you freak out when you saw that cup of coffee and plate?  I've been thinking about it non-stop since we left the arena, and..."  he met her hazel gaze squarely but gently.  "I just can't make any sense of it."

Amy blinked, swallowing hard as she shifted her eyes from him to the floor beyond.  How was she going to answer this one?  She didn't even know the answer herself.  Unless...

When she still didn't respond after a full five minutes, the blond man gently touched her shoulder.  "Ames?"

"I...I'm not sure..." she finally admitted, though reluctantly.

"You're not sure?"  As he voiced the question, Adam felt a horrible, sinking sensation in his gut.  What could that mean?

"No...unless...unless it's got something to do with my dreams."

"Oh..."  The Canadian eyed her with a further sinking feeling.  Oh, God... Little by little, slowly but surely, what Trish had speculated was making more and more sense.

God damn it...

*

"Well, if any of you guys run into Adam and Amy later, give them my regards," Kurt said, glancing from Trish, then to Matt and fnally Jeff.

"Sure thing," the petite blonde said.  A moment later, Angle and Lesnar walked away to return to their respective locker rooms, leaving the blonde diva and the Hardys alone.

"Man..." Jeff said, running his free hand through his purplish-blue locks.  "Poor Ames...God, I have a horrible feeling about all of this..."

Trish frowned.  "God...I...I wonder what exactly happened in their locker room," she said in a soft voice.

Matt ran his hands through his long dark-brown hair.  "I wonder about that, too...maybe we can ask Adam about it later.  Come on, guys...Let's get out of here."  The elder Hardy began to walk down the hallway, heading in the direction of the parking lot.

Trish turned her head to gaze up at Jeff, noting how the young man's face looked so pensive.  He appeared almost to be holding back tears.

"Jeff?"

"Damn it...I just wish there was something I could do to help her," he said, his green shining eyes watching after his retreating brother.  He quickly shifted his gaze to the diva's brown eyes.

Trish shook her head sadly.  "Me too...I wish I'd been wrong about-"  She abruptly stopped speaking, her eyes narrowing as she stared at something - or someone - behind Jeff.

The rainbow-haired man turned his head to see what the problem was and frowned when he met the cold gaze of a smiling Paul Heyman.

"Isn't this cozy?" the man said, eyeing the two of them.  "Big brother stepped away, so now little brother has the fair lady all to himself..."

"What do you want, Paul?" the blonde demanded, her pretty face grown angry.

"I already told you, honey," Heyman said, stepping closer and reaching out to touch a lock of Trish's hair.  She recoiled back as though in horror, a feeling of disgust taking over.

Then, suddenly, he turned sharply toward Jeff, a look of shock and fear replacing his sly grin.

"Don't ever touch her again, Heyman..." the younger Hardy warned as he released the man's shirt collar.  "Now, get lost."

Paul did as he was told, a slight scowl taking form on his fat face as he backed off.

"Thanks, Jeff," the little blonde diva said gratefully.

"Don't mention it, Trish," the young man replied with a wink.  After a beat, he said, "C'mon...let's get out of here before Matt starts to wonder..."