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~ Chapter 5 – Sanctuary ~

It's a place that's available to you when nowhere else will accept you … it's a place that'll protect you and look after you when the world is falling apart. There's no other safe place, no other haven that'll keep you enclosed in the comforting walls, no other room that can keep the harshness and the hate out. You find yourself searching for this place, doing all that you can to find and keep it, because, when it comes right down to it … it's the only place in the world that will be available to you when the world breaks away and you're left all alone.

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

It had been years before Candice Michelle returned to Saints Ville, and the more she thought about it, the more she wished she hadn't come at all. The town brought back memories that haunted her every waking second, making it nearly impossible for her to forget. She couldn't stop the scene from replaying over and over and over again, and every time it did, Candice couldn't get the expressions of her friends and loved ones out of her mind. She could practically feel the judgment and accusation rolling off of them in waves. Leaving Saints Ville, Candice had thought all of her past and all of her troubles would stay behind, but that was only wishful thinking. No matter where she went – San Francisco, Chicago, New York City, Tokyo – her past followed and wouldn't leave her.

Coming back hadn't been because she wanted to. Walking into the Saints Hospital with an anxious expression across her countenance, Candice knew that what she was doing was something she needed to do. After all, what were sisters for if they weren't always there for each other, no matter what trials and tribulations they had been through together?

"Can I help you?" A young woman asked when she walked up to the counter. The smile on her pretty face was comforting and friendly, and despite what she was feeling, the brunette couldn't help but smile back in return.

"Yes, I'm here to see my sister, Eve Torres."

"Oh, Dr. Orton has been expecting you. Unfortunately, he's not here right now, but you're more than welcome to see her. I'll show you the way," The name of the helpful nurse – as shown on her name plate – was Alicia. Walking around the counter after collecting a folder, the kind woman offered yet another comforting smile before motioning for her to follow.

Taking a deep breath, Candice prepared herself for what was to come before following after Alicia. She didn't know what to expect. The only thing the answering machine said was that Eve was in a car accident and that she was needed at the Saints Hospital, that she was the only emergency contact Eve had on record. That fact alone shocked the brunette when she first listened to the message. After the harsh words and the actions that could never be erased, Candice was still the only person on her emergency contact list?

"How did Dr. Orton know I'd show up?" Candice found herself asking. That had been the next question on her mind as she made her way down the hallway. It had been weeks since she received that message and she only arrived in Saints Ville yesterday.

"The good doctor has this sort of intuition about him," Alicia laughed. "He just knew you were going to come."

After giving a small smile, Candice ducked her head and nodded, feeling a bit guilty. What kind of a person was she when she didn't jump on a plane right that second to come to a sister in need? She felt stupid for thinking about the fear of her past coming back then how her own sister was doing. Hell, she even visited a friend before even stepping foot inside of the hospital! She wouldn't be surprised if Eve kicked her out right then and there after getting a good look at her.

"Alright, here we are," Alicia finally said, coming to a stop right in front of Room 618. Opening the folder, the red headed woman looked through the contents before looking up at Candice. "Your sister is a very lucky woman. Besides cuts and bruises, she has a broken leg. The accident could have been a lot worse."

"Oh, thank God," Candice said, realizing that she had been holding her breath while the nurse was talking. She put a hand to her forehead and smiled. "That's good. That's really good."

The look on Alicia's face, however, brought back a lot of the worry, but before Candice could ask any more questions, the nurse continued speaking.

"She is getting very healthy. She's responding to the medication very well, but she's still unconscious."

Blinking, Candice furrowed her brow. "She's been here two weeks …"

"The doctor is on a lunch break. Why don't you go in there and sit with your sister and I'll send Dr. Orton right in when he gets back."

Nodding her head, Candice watched as Alicia made her way back down the hallway, her head in a million places. She didn't want to go into the room, not alone. She didn't want to be alone in her thoughts, knowing that it'd be the only thing the brunette would focus on, consuming her, and accusing her. But this was her sister and she had been waiting for so long. Taking a deep breath, determination flowing through her, Candice lifted her head up and pushed open the door, only to come to a halt.

Sitting on the chair that was angled in the bed's direction – a chair where she was supposed to be sitting – was a man …

He jumped to his feet the second the door opened, realizing immediately that the woman who walked through wasn't a doctor or a nurse. Standing there – one looked shocked while the other looked anxious – the two people had absolutely no idea what to do or what to even say. The silence was getting to be too much for the brunette, and she couldn't help but take a step forward, her eyes going from Justin to the woman lying in the bed.

"Who are you?"

"I …" Justin stumbled over his words, his thoughts a complete jumble as he tried to figure out just what to say to the woman who walked into the room. He had no idea who she was, had no idea why she was even there, but something told him to tread carefully, that she wasn't someone to be riffled with. "I'm Eve's friend …"

Nodding her head slowly, Candice took another step forward, moving towards the other side of the bed, the unoccupied side. Her eyes never left the strange man's. "I have never seen you before."

"You're never around, though, are you?" Justin shot back. He had no idea why he said it, what spurred on him to say it, but just as he was about to apologize for how rough it sounded, Justin couldn't help but take note at how her eyes immediately dropped from his. "What's your name?"

"Candice," She answered, looking back up at the man with fresh tears in her eyes. She did nothing to conceal them or to stop them from falling down her face.

"I'm Justin."

She nodded once more, her dark brown eyes shifting over to Eve's still body, a lump in her throat rising and rising. She slowly sank down to her knees at the sight of her sister, the fear and sadness inside of her growing with each second. A shaky hand reaching over, Candice gently took a hold of her sister's limp one. The tears immediately fall the second contact was initiated.

"What's wrong with her?" Candice gasped as she tried to get past the wave of emotions that collided into her. She sobbed, tearing her gaze from Eve to look back at Justin. "Why won't she wake up?"

He felt hopeless. Not only was he guilty for causing the accident, but he immediately felt at fault for causing this woman to cry, to feel so much sadness. He was guilty for not coming out and telling her that it was his fault. He felt guilty for trying to find an excuse to cover what he so desperately wanted hidden.

"I don't know."

Sitting on the plush cushion, Maria Kannellis drew out a shaky breath as she wrung her fingers together, needing something to do with them. For the life of her, even after all those years, the scars from her abusive – or that's how the therapist described it even though he never laid a hand on her out of anger – past had never healed properly, never dissipated as the time grew longer and longer. Without the right outlet, as Maria discovered, her past and fear would never leave her. It would continue to haunt her until the fight within the redhead died.

She thought she was over it, though. Granted, it had been just a few years, Maria had thought she should have been able to get a better handle over things. Obviously not and, as she sat there with her leg crossed over another and a frown on her face, the redhead couldn't help but wonder if she ever would.

Maria sighed and looked up, peering at the only other person in the room. Jack Swagger was staring back at her with a worried look on his face. Though against his wishes, the redhead was successful in convincing Jack to take over her case, to help her get through the black cloud that was always hanging over her head, despite the impressive façade that was put in place. Jack had refused, of course, claiming that it would be unprofessional, a conflict of interest, but in the end, he resided in the fact that he was the only person who Maria would ever talk to.

"You're nervous," Jack finally said. It was a statement and not a question, and when she looked up with a startled expression plastered across her face, the therapist knew that he had brought her out of her thoughts. "Why?"

"I don't know," Maria shrugged, turning her gaze back down to her hands. Her answer was truthful. She had no idea why she was so nervous and anxious to talk about what had happened to her. It was just hard – finally admitting to a problem that she had been too stubborn to talk about for years, seeking help for the problem after years of trying to figure it all out on her own. It was tough. "I just … I haven't seen him since the day I left and came here to Saints Ville. I haven't spoken to him, communicated with him … and it just feels like I've never really escaped him. There's this presence, this feeling that he's not as far away as I thought he was."

Nodding his head and, after jotting down a few notes, Jack placed the notepad back down on the table beside him and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned closer to his friend. It was now one of the many times Jack wished he hadn't agreed to this. Sometimes he had a problem with keeping his professionalism and his friendship with Maria separate, especially when she was dealing with something as big as CM Punk. Oh, he had heard the story before, knew what he used to do to her, and it burned him up inside. The problem was determining why she was having such a hard time forgetting the man and moving on, why she couldn't just keep the past behind her and get on with her life. The last few months were difficult for her, since the fear suddenly intensified to the point where she had actually ran to his house in the middle of the night in tears.

Clearing his throat, Jack spoke. "Fear is a good thing, Maria, no matter what the situation. He was a bad guy and you were smart enough to get away from him."

"But that doesn't explain why I can't shake the feeling that he's watching me."

"Have you … have you ever considered the fact that maybe you're getting a little paranoid, because of the fear?" Jack questioned hesitantly. He didn't want to upset her. He wanted nothing more than to understand her and to agree with her, but they were in his setting, his world. He had to be the professional she was paying him for, not her friend.

"Of course, I've thought of that. I've tried everything – tried to ignore the feeling, tried to think of something else, tried to picture myself somewhere else. Nothing is working and I have no idea why. I mean, am I going crazy or something? Am I losing my mind and this is the only thing that I'll be thinking of for the rest of my life while I'm stuck in some mental hospital strapped to a bed, getting pumped full of medication?" Maria rambled, her mind going in several directions as she tried to blink away the tears that were trying to blind her. She felt a hand atop of hers and she suddenly found herself several times calmer than she was just a few seconds ago.

"Maria, I promise you … you're not going crazy," Jack reassured his voice full of the calmness and awareness that Maria only wished she possessed. He squeezed the hand he was currently holding before letting up. He leaned back slightly, searching her eyes. "We aren't going to do this anymore."

Blinking once more in confusion, Maria furrowed her brows and shook her head slowly. "I don't … understand. What do you mean we aren't going to do this anymore?" And as if a light bulb turned on in her head, Maria's hand lurched forward, grabbing a hold of Jack's, stopping him from moving away even more. "No! Jack, you need to help me. You need to get me straight! I can't deal with this, please; you've got to help me!"

"Relax!" Jack couldn't help but chuckle some as he laid his hand over hers once more, slowly feeling as the tension drained from her body, though her eye remained as alert and as focused as she stared back at him, those dark green eyes wide with fear. "I'm still going to help you – just not here. Come on, let's go get a bite to eat, settle those nerves down some."

Standing up, Jack helped Maria to her feet before handing her the beige jacket she left on the coat rack when the session first started. Holding the door open for her, Jack followed the redhead out, his heart warming when his friend sent him a grateful smile. Though he had no idea how to help her, he was going to do everything in his power to erase the pain and the fear she was experiencing and allow the happiness and joy to flood through her once more. It was once there, it would come again, and Jack was sure that he would make sure it stayed there permanently.

She was crying, the mascara running down Maryse Ouellet's face, staining her tears and cheeks. Her heart was thundering inside her chest so much, in fact, that she could hear it in her ears. The French-Canadian had no idea how long she had been running, only knew that she needed to get to his house. She needed his comfort to make her nightmares settle.

When the front door opened to her penthouse apartment, Maryse couldn't help but feel those butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. Even after – how long had it been again – a year of dating, the beautiful blonde couldn't get over how lucky she was to be around him, to have him in her life. Of course, like any other couple, they had their differences. They fought, the argued, they ignored each other, and they questioned what they were even doing together, but like the committed couple they were, they always found a way back to each other, always found a way to make it work.

The second Ted DiBiase Jr. walked into the room, Maryse quickly made her way over to him – or as fast as her five inch heels would allow her to go – wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a passionate kiss.

"Hello, handsome," Maryse purred, her French accent pronounced as she kissed him on the cheek, her fingers massaging the back of his head as she stared deep into his cerulean eyes. "I missed you so much."

A sob escaped through her lips as she turned the corner, running down the sidewalk, ignoring all of the people she passed, ignoring all of the rude comments when she bumped into them in her haste to get to him. She tried to be everything to Ted, tried to do everything she possible could think of to make him happy. Nothing seemed to work, though. Sometimes he was the perfect boyfriend, the perfect gentleman. Other times – like tonight – he was a monster, a cold, cruel monster that didn't care about her feelings.

"Doesn't surprise me," Ted growled, unwrapping himself from her clingy grasp. Pushing her away from him – the French Canadian stumbling and almost losing her balance in her five inch heels – the younger DiBiase sibling made his way further into the apartment, a scowl marking his features. "Can I at least walk through the fucking door before you cling yourself to me!"

Blinking back in response to his cold voice, Maryse took a moment to swallow the lump in her throat, to just roll the insult off and put a smile on her face. He just had a bad day … that was all … "I'm sorry, darling. Can I get you anything?"

"Maryse, give me five minutes, please."

Shaking his head angrily, his face flushed with visible fury, Ted smacked a pile of books from the nearby table onto the floor, the hardcover books falling to the floor, making a thumping sound as they connected to the hardwood flooring. Looking down at the books, all lying haphazardly on the ground, Maryse remained where she was at until Ted stormed into their bedroom, slamming the door shut so hard, not only did the French Canadian flinch, but the windows shook in their place. She didn't notice the tear trailing down her cheek until it dripped from her face, landing on her hand. There couldn't be any crying, though. That displayed weakness, and that was something Ted DiBiase Jr. couldn't stand. Making her way slowly over to the mirror that was hanging over the credenza, Maryse pulled a tissue out of the box that was sitting against the wall, and wiped the tear streak, only to find that there were several more streaks that she hadn't noticed or felt.

Maryse knew without a doubt that she loved Ted. There was something about him that just called to her, cementing her fate along with his. They had so much in common – the same problems, the same questions. No matter what, it was like they could always find their way to each other, always be the only person that could provide some type of comfort when the rest of the world was so cold.

When Ted acted like that, though … well, it make Maryse feel like she was all alone, that she was screaming, but no one was there to hear her.

With her heels still smacking against the sidewalk as she continued running through the city, Maryse turned another corner and made her way down, the small house in plain sight, only a few meters away. With the ground below her cracked and unstable, it wasn't surprising that the French Canadian fell, her heels no match for the unsteady ground. And for a moment, Maryse did nothing but lay there, the tears falling down her face while she concentrated on the physical pain, trying to ignore the emotional one. When a light from her peripheral vision flickered on, Maryse looked up and saw his silhouette, her saviour. She had to get to him. In his comfort and in his arms, she'd be alright.

Crawling to her knees and finally to her feet, kicking off the heels that were getting in her way, Maryse made her way to the house, the only thing her eyes rested on was the silhouette standing by the window. He didn't know she was there or that she was coming, but deep down, she knew that he would let her in. He couldn't turn her away.

Taking one step at a time, the French Canadian pulled up the several steps, and was found standing in front of the huge black door … his door. Extending her hand, taking a hesitant glance over her shoulder as though she felt eyes on her, Maryse quickly balled her fist up and slammed it into the door four or five times, her heart racing the longer she was out in the open, exposed and vulnerable. At first there was nothing, only impending silence. The thought of what could happen to her only made her fear grow, and she found herself pounding on the door once more, praying that he wasn't going to leave her all alone.

"Maryse, stop," The voice sounded, the thick Irish accent meeting her ears, turning her attention from the street to him.

Her fear was getting the best of her, trapping her in an endless cycle of pain and undeniable terror. The second his warm hands wrapped around her and brought her closer, however, the fear faded and the shaking subsided as she found herself getting lost in his warmth.

"What happened?" Stephen 'Sheamus' Farrelly asked, his voice low as he ran his hand up and down her bare arms, trying to warm the woman up. It wasn't the first time Maryse Ouellet ran to him and, as periodic as it happened, the Irishman found himself getting all the more worried.

"Please, I …" She whimper, unable to finish the sentence as another shiver crept up her spine. She knew someone was watching her. "Please don't leave me alone. I'm so scared."

"Never, love," Pulling her into the house, Stephen closed the door.

The alcohol on his breath was nauseating, but Maryse merely smiled at her man, holding her breath as she filled up his whiskey glass. He only drank when he was really upset or angry – now being the perfect example. And though she knew that he never meant what he said to her, it still never ceased to shock her at how hateful and uncaring his words were.

"More, more," Ted growled, reaching over and grabbing her wrist, spilling even more alcohol into the cup. When he had as much as he wanted, the younger DiBiase sibling pushed the French Canadian away from him, not knowing of his strength until Maryse crashed into the nearby table, dropping the bottle of whiskey and falling to the floor. "God, you are such a fucking mess."

Her body shaking, Maryse slowly pulled a small shard of glass out of her palm, wincing at the pain. "That hurt, Ted …"

"Hurt? You want to know about hurt?" Shaking his head, his lips curling up into a mean snarl, Ted climbed to his feet and towered over his girlfriend, his fist tightening around the glass he held. "Hurt is when you're all alone in the world. Hurt is when no one cares about you. Hurt is when your own father doesn't give a damn about you and only wants his first son! Do you really want to talk about hurt, Maryse, when you haven't even experienced it!"

She said nothing, only flinched when Ted threw his glass against the wall. He fell to his knees then, his expression somber, but with the dazed look in his eyes, Maryse knew that he had no idea what he was doing.

"You're all I have right now, Ryse. I don't know how I'd go on if you weren't here with me. Don't ever hurt me, Maryse … not like they have," He reached up and ran a hand down the side of her face, wiping away some of the tears from her damp cheek. "I couldn't live if I didn't have you. I'd probably kill myself … but only after I killed you."

I'm so sorry for the long wait. Hopefully, you guys are still here. Please review and let me know what you think! This is probably not one of my better chapters. I did rush the last section, but I'll let you be the judge of that.