A/N: So here it is, the final chapter, the end of the story. I first started writing this story about 3 years ago, and right now, I can't believe that it's finally finished. I want to thank everyone who's reviewed, favorited, or alerted this story; just the fact that you did so means that you took the time to read this story and that, more than anything, means a lot to me.

This story may be over, but the adventures of Dave and Elektra are far from finished. Sequel, you say? That's exactly what I'm talking about, so if you liked this story, keep an eye out in the very near future for the sequel, All I Want Is You.

Finally, I want to give a big shout-out to my bestest friend in the world, Rosie (Yes, I'm aware that "bestest" is not actually a word). Rosie stumbled onto the story when I was getting toward the end, but she has been my wrestling buddy and fellow Batista lover for many years, and in a few weeks, we are going to go to our first live show and grope some Superstars. Rosie, you're the best! Thanks for all your support!

And with that--ENJOY! Peace!

Chapter 57: You and Me

Elektra raised her hand to knock, then stopped, glancing right, then left, in apprehension. Wrestlemania 21 was in full swing, and the corridor was jammed with crew members and Superstars, but no one gave her so much as a second glance. Everyone was too wrapped up in their own tasks, whether it be their jobs, their matches, or just succumbing to the indescribable excitement that comes from experiencing the biggest event in sport entertainment.

The silver-eyed Diva was not immune to this sensation; she could feel it rippling through her insides like a mild current of electricity. Her heart was pounding, and she felt as though she was going to throw up from the anticipation. In a little bit, she would join Batista in the gorilla position, and together, they would walk down to the ring for his main-event match against his former friend (and her ex-boyfriend), Triple H.

But before she could do that, Elektra had one more task to compete. One more door to close before she turned her back on Evolution forever.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand again, and balling it into a fist, rapped sharply on the door of the Evolution locker room. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, the door opened a crack to reveal Flair, who peered suspiciously out into the hallway. When he saw that it was Elektra, he pulled the door open wider, and motioned her inside impatiently. "Quick, before someone sees you!"

Elektra almost replied that the majority of the WWE roster had already seen her standing outside Evolution's locker room, but kept her mouth shut instead and moved swiftly into the room. Flair closed the door behind her, then turned around, his expression unreadable.

For what seemed like an eternity, the two of them regarded each other silently; the Nature Boy and the former First Lady of Evolution. Elektra shifted her eyes toward the door, then back at Flair. "Is Hunter around?"

"He's off with Motor-something or other, getting ready for his big entrance." the Nature Boy answered. "If you're asking whether he's going to come back, I can't guarantee that he won't, so we better make this quick."

His brusque tone left the gray-eyed Diva momentarily lost for words, and another span of silence stretched out between them. Finally, the 16-time World Champion cleared his throat, casting his gaze toward the floor as he spoke. His voice was gentler this time. "So…how's the leg doing?"

Elektra looked down for a second at the limb in question, then back up at him. "It's healing; hopefully, I'll be getting the cast off in a few weeks." She hesitated. "My doctor thinks, though…because I broke it twice…that I'll probably always walk with a limp."

Flair's expression briefly twisted with pain, and he looked away. His voice was low, his slight lisp barely noticeable. "I'm sorry."

Elektra didn't know what to say to this, so she kept silent, clasping her hands in front of her and twisting Batista's ring around her finger nervously.

The Nature Boy's moment of vulnerability passed, however, and he met her eyes again, his countenance once more inscrutable. "No offense, honey, but I doubt you came here so we could talk about your injury." His gaze bore in hers. "So why are you here?"

The silver-eyed Diva lowered her lids, staring down at her hands. "Because…" she began tentatively. She raised her head and stared at Flair, some measure of confidence returning to her voice.. "Because in a little while, we're going to go out there as enemies—and before that happens, I just wanted to let you know that I don't blame you…for anything that's happened to me. I don't blame you—and for what it's worth, I'm sorry things turned out this way."

The Nature Boy's expression didn't change, and Elektra found herself looking away again. "It's just that…" She faltered, took a moment to compose herself, and continued. Her voice was just above a whisper. "I've spent so much of my adult life being unhappy…and even you have to know that was all I was ever going to be with Hunter."

Several seconds passed without either of them saying again. Eventually, Flair sighed and his face softened. "I let you down," he said, his tone full of quiet regret. "I didn't step in when I had the chance…and I hope that, someday, you'll find it in your heart to forgive me."

Elektra looked up sharply, tears pricking her eyes. Quickly, she stepped toward the sixteen-time World Champion, reaching out to grasp his arms affectionately. "Ric, I don't hate you, okay? Sure, you've got a fucked-up idea of loyalty, but you're not a bad guy…and I know that, even if no one else does."

The Nature Boy stared back at her, and his lined face creased in a smile. "Thank you, honey," he whispered, his voice betraying only the barest quaver of emotion. His grin broadened. "Now if Dave ever gets out of line, you just let me know and I'll straighten him out."

Elektra smiled at this joke, but she wasn't through yet. "Seriously, Ric—you know that, someday, he's going to turn on you, too. Just like he turned on Randy, on me, on Dave…" Her smile faded. "Just walk away now while you have the chance. Don't wait for him to beat you senseless. Just…just walk away."

For an instant, Flair's expression sobered, and he glanced down, refusing to meet her eyes. "You go find Dave, and you two be happy together, and you don't worry about what happens to me, understand?"

Elektra slowly shook her head. "I don't get it," she replied after a long moment. "How can you be loyal to someone who doesn't know the meaning of the word?"

The Nature Boy looked up again, and this time, his smile was slightly sad. With one hand, he reached up and patted her cheek gently. "When you've been here a few years…you'll understand." He gathered her close in a fatherly hug, and Elektra returned the embrace, squeezing her eyes closed to keep the tears from spilling down her face.

Flair pulled back, and the gray-eyed Diva saw that he, too, was struggling to keep his emotions in check. "You look so beautiful tonight, honey," he answered. "Now why don't you go and find Dave?"

As Elektra stepped back out into the corridor, she realized that she was trying not to cry. Stop that…she told herself sternly. When Dave wins the title, you can bawl like a baby. But until then…put a lid on it…

At the mere thought of that upcoming match, the bout that would determine the World Heavyweight Champion, the silver-eyed Diva's stomach gave another anticipatory lurch, and she swayed back and forth unsteadily. She felt light-headed, and pressed one hand to her temple, hoping that she wasn't going to pass out and hurt herself. The last place she wanted to spend her Wrestlemania was in the trainer's room, watching the main event on a monitor.

At that moment, a strong arm looped itself around her shoulders, bracing her and holding her up. Surprised, Elektra turned, and was greeted with the handsome face of Chris Jericho. The former Undisputed Champion grinned. "Good thing I stopped; you were looking a little wobbly there. Been starting our celebration a little early, have we?" he joked.

Elektra smiled, albeit a little weakly. "Just the usual title match jitters," she shot back, but beneath her teasing tone, there was real strain in her voice.

Jericho must have noticed it, because his expression sobered a little. "Well, then, allow me to be your escort so that you get to gorilla without keeling over." The devilish glint appeared in his eyes again. "Of course, after that, it's pretty much out of my hands. If you faint on the ramp…well, not much I can do about that."

The gray-eyed Diva laughed, feeling some of the tension drain from her body. "I'll keep that in mind." she replied, leaning a little against Y2J for support.

The two of them made their way toward the gorilla position, Jericho taking care to keep pace with Elektra's limping gait. "So…" he asked after a while. "How's your Wrestlemania been so far?"

Elektra grimaced. "Fine…except for the pounding headache and the tremendous effort not to puke." She glanced over at the Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla. "I'd ask you the same question…except I know how yours has been." Her expression softened. "Sorry about the Money in the Bank match."

Jericho dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it, E. Knowing Edge, he'll probably get impatient and drop the ball within a week…letting the rest of us who actually earn our title shots step in." His voice became joking again. "Speaking of which…when Dave's Champion, do you think you can put in a good word with him for your favorite sexy beast, Chris Jericho?"

Elektra laughed, tilting her head back. "Sure, Chris. When Dave wins, I'll make sure you're the first one on the list." The former Undisputed Champion pumped his fist in a "Yes!" motion. Elektra looked over at him, casting her eyes down as she spoke. "If you do something about that ring attire."

Jericho glanced over, following her line of sight down to his brightly-colored wrestling trunks. "What? These? What's wrong with them?"

The silver-eyed Diva raised one eyebrow. "Well, the sparkles, for one—"

"Hey, don't diss the sparkles!" Y2J interrupted. "How do you think I pick up women? Chicks dig the sparkles!"

Elektra giggled. "And I'm sure Trish would love to hear you say that."

Jericho twisted his features into an expression of mock chagrin. "No! Please! Not that!" The two of them dissolved into laughter.

By now, they were almost at gorilla. Elektra's smile faded, and she turned toward Jericho again, her expression completely serious. "Chris, before I go, I just want to say…" She stopped, trying to find the right words. The former Undisputed Champion gazed back at her expectantly. "The stuff that I did to you…when I was in Evolution…I just wanted to say that I'm sorry—"

Jericho waved his hand, cutting her off. "Don't worry about it," he replied. "That was a long time ago, and we've both changed a lot since then." He hesitated for a second, tenderness blossoming on his face. "Besides…you gave me back Trish…and believe me, that's more than all the apologies in the world." The two of them shared a quick hug.

Elektra moved away from him, limping toward the darkened gorilla position. She had only gone a few steps, however, before she turned back toward Jericho. "Just one more question, Chris—how do I look?"

Jericho stroked his chin thoughtfully with one hand. "Let me put it this way," he began. "Is Dave wearing socks?" Elektra frowned, uncomprehending. Y2J's face lit up in a grin once more. "Because if he is…they're going to get knocked off as soon as he sees you."

The gray-eyed Diva couldn't help it; she burst into giggles, rolling her eyes as she turned away from the Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla. As soon as her back was turned, however, her smile faded, nervousness marring her delicate features once again.

Slowly, on legs that no longer felt like they belonged to her, she limped into the gorilla area. As usual, it was crowded with people, but she had no problem spotting the Animal. Batista, like the night before, was deep in thought; he didn't even notice her approach until she gently touched his arm. The Animal turned sharply, his jaw dropping—literally dropping—when he beheld his girlfriend.

Elektra wore a pair of low-riding, wide-legged gauzy white pants, and a sleek form-fitting white satin corset. Her long dark hair was pinned up in a loose bun at the back of her head, adorned with a narrow hair band studded with rhinestones. A simple diamond pendant adorned her neck, its solitary gem nestled in the hollow of her throat.

Batista couldn't speak. To him, Elektra looked like an angel, gliding toward him out of the darkness like a beacon of light, reminding him that no matter what the outcome of this match was—there would always be one thing that the Game could never possess. He reached out, took her face tenderly in both hands, his jaw finally unlocked and allowing him to form words again. "Wow," he managed to say. "You look…amazing." Leaning closer, he placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. "Seriously, baby, after seeing you, standing here like this—I don't even feel like I need to win anymore."

Elektra turned her head to the side, pressing her cheek against his. "Let's not be too hasty," she joked. "We've made it this far, haven't we?"

The Animal pulled back, staring into her eyes. "Yeah, we have," he answered, his mouth curving into a wry smile. He bent down, pressing his lips to her forehead. "You ready?" he murmured into her hair."

The silver-eyed Diva very slowly shook her head. "No…are you?"

"Uh-uh," Batista straightened up, trailing his hands down her face, her neck, her shoulders, down to her waist. He pulled her close, sheltering her in the curve of his body. "So let's go out there and fake it."

Elektra rested her head against his chest, listening to the sound of the Animal's heart beat, savoring this momentary peace. "Bring it on," she whispered.

With what seemed like absolutely no effort, Batista hoisted the Cerebral Assassin over his head, turning and throwing him onto the mat with a brutal powerslam. Dropping to his knees, he hooked the Game's leg for the pin. Referee Mike Chioda was right beside him, slamming his hand on the canvas.

1…2…

Triple H's shoulder shot off the mat before the ref could get to three. The Animal sat back on his haunches, disbelief etched across his features.

Elektra slammed her hand down impatiently on the ring apron. "Come on, Chioda!" she ranted. "Get your head out of your ass and count to three already!" The criticism was useless; her screaming was not going to phase the referee, and besides, the Game had clearly gotten his shoulder up before three. But, dammit, it made her feel better.

The gray-eyed Diva paced the length of the ring, her eyes glued to its occupants. Batista clearly was having the same thought as her; he was arguing with Chioda, holding up three fingers. The WWE official shook his head, holding up only two.

While the two of them bickered, Triple H slowly rolled out of the ring, planting both feet unsteadily on the floor and staggering a few paces before collapsing against the Raw announce table. Elektra crept to the corner of the ring, holding onto the ringpost with one hand and gazing warily at the Cerebral Assassin. The match had been an intense bout from the beginning, with both men gaining and losing the upper hand. The silver-eyed Diva hadn't realized until now just how little physicality there had been between Batista and Triple H prior to this match. Sure, there had been words hurled back and forth, there had been indescribable tension—but there had never been anything like this. Just like the fans, this match was something she was witnessing for the first time.

And just like the fans…she had absolutely no idea how it was all going to end.

The Game's head had been busted open during an earlier collision with the ringpost, and blood stained his crude features like a bright red mask. Even in his weakened state, however, Elektra was loath to go anywhere near him. She had seen the Cerebral Assassin walk away from worse. As she watched, he slid off the table onto the floor, wedging his upper body into the space between the announce table and the security barrier.

Behind him, Batista jumped down off the ring apron, heading toward the World Heavyweight Champion with grim determination in his features. He was temporarily distracted by the intervention of the Nature Boy, who flew at his former mentee with a barrage of wild punches and chops. Flair had asserted himself in the match from the beginning, and even a couple clotheslines courtesy of the Animal had failed to slow him down.

Batista turned, and with a right hand, nailed the sixteen-time World Champion in the jaw. Flair went down hard, clutching his face. The Animal looked down at him for several seconds, but whether with satisfaction or regret, Elektra couldn't tell. Behind him, Triple H was getting back to his knees, inching his way out from the space between table and barrier. As he emerged, Elektra noticed that both of his hands were wrapped around something. Horror flickered through her as she realized that it was a steel chair. If the Game used it…he would be disqualified, allowing him to escape with his tenth title reign intact. And from the looks of it, that was exactly what the Cerebral Assassin intended to do.

The gray-eyed Diva opened her mouth to scream—and was saved from doing so by Mike Chioda, who leaned over the ropes, admonishing the World Champion and grabbing onto the chair to tug it out of his grasp. Triple H tugged back, however, and Chioda lost the brief battle of tug-of-war, the momentum sending him sailing over the ropes. He landed awkwardly on the floor, just barely missing the steel steps, and immediately clutched his knee in pain.

The Game stood still for a moment, regarding his handiwork with absolutely no emotion. He turned away, and soon learned that Batista's attention was once again on him. The Animal nailed him with a stiff boot to the gut, and grabbing a handful of the Cerebral Assassin's hair, hurled him back into the ring.

Triple H rolled once or twice before landing in a sitting position. He quickly scrambled backward on hands and knees as Batista entered the ring, moving toward the World Champion with methodical, deliberate slowness. The Game held up his hands, his mouth moving in pleas that Elektra couldn't hear.

Batista motioned for the Cerebral Assassin to get to his feet. "Come on, Hunter," he taunted, his tone mocking. "You wanted to go; so let's go!" He leaned over Triple H, his bulk like an impenetrable wall.

Elektra caught a blur of motion at the corner of her vision, and turned in time to see Flair slide under the ropes and charge the Animal, the massive gold-and-leather World Heavyweight Championship in hand. Almost as though he had eyes in the back of his head, Batista turned, and ducked just in time. Flair screeched to a halt, but before he could get his bearings, the Animal scooped him up and slammed him down with a powerful spinebuster. The Nature Boy lay motionless on the mat. Batista stared down at him, his expression a mixture of bitterness and regret.

The referee was back in the ring now, kneeling over Flair and trying to bodily roll him out of the ring. Batista turned his attention back to Triple H, who had gotten to his feet, his back to the Animal. As Batista reached out to grab him, the Game whirled around, and Elektra saw—too late—that he was clutching his World Championship. The belt caught the Animal between the eyes and he went down hard.

The silver-eyed Diva shrieked wordlessly, clapping both hands over her mouth in shock. She looked around frantically, trying to think of something she could do, but the Cerebral Assassin was already hooking Batista's leg for the pin, the ref beside him, his hand thudding against the canvas—

1…2…

Batista's left shoulder shot off the mat with such force that the power of it threw Triple H off him. The World Champion's skull connected with Chioda's, and the referee collapsed to the canvas, holding his head in both hands and writhing in pain. Neither man seemed to notice; they were both too preoccupied with getting to their feet. Batista was still shaking his head to clear away any remaining dizziness; Triple H had to use the ropes to pull himself up. Once he had done so, he charged toward his former protégé, but just as he had with Flair, the Animal grabbed him and with one swift motion, nailed him with a spinebuster.

The entire Staples Center leapt to their feet, screaming and cheering. Batista was up, pacing around the ring, shaking the ropes, roaring wordlessly. Down by the apron, Elektra nodded in approval, clapping her hands. "Come on, Dave," she murmured. "End it. End it now."

The Animal turned toward the gray-eyed Diva, who enthusiastically gave him a double thumbs-up. A quick affectionate smile flashed across Batista's face, but when he turned back toward Triple H, he was all business again. Grabbing the Game, he hauled him up and set him up for the Batista Bomb—but with a quickness that astounded even Elektra, the Cerebral Assassin dropped to his knees, bringing his forearm up between the Animal's legs in a vile low blow.

His action was greeted with a chorus of boos almost as deafening as the cheers encouraging Batista. Chioda, of course, had missed the entire thing. The Animal bent over, clutching himself with both hands, his face a portrait of shock and agony that would have comical if the circumstances hadn't been so deadly serious. He collapsed to the mat, his momentum temporarily halted by the simplest and most illegal of counters.

"No!" Elektra screamed, grabbing onto the ropes with both hands and shaking them violently. "Fucker! You fucker!" Rage tore through her, obliterating everything else in its wake. If her anger had had the ability to manifest itself, Triple H would have been little more than a smudge of ash on the canvas by now. Unbidden, her mind returned to New Year's Revolution, to how Randy Orton had pinned Batista using that very same tactic—and how, just like now, she had been powerless to stop it.

His smirk barely visible through the veil of blood, the World Champion pulled Batista up, shoving his head between his thighs and wrenching his arms behind his back in preparation for the Pedigree. He looked up, and caught Elektra's eye. The Game had never been one to pass up an opportunity to gloat, and now was no exception: the wink he gave her was unmistakable.

The gray-eyed Diva backed a step or two away from the ring, hoping that the cameras were picking up the expression of absolute loathing on her face. "Damn you," she spat. "You fucker, goddamn you to hell!"

The Cerebral Assassin apparently was not going to waste any more time taunting her, however. He started to launch his body upward—then stopped, frowning. He tried again, and once more, was unable to propel his body off the ground. Triple H looked bewildered, then suddenly glanced down in surprise at his clasped hands.

As he, Elektra, and the rest of the world watched, the World Champion's hands began to draw apart, as though by an unseen force. The Game looked around frantically, his eyes wide. Outside the ring, Elektra couldn't suppress a gasp of shock and jubilation. In the year that she had been here, she had never seen anyone power out of the Pedigree, certainly not to the extent that she was witnessing right now. "Come on, Dave," she urged. "Come on…"

With a roar, the Animal straightened up, inverting the Cerebral Assassin. Grabbing onto the World Champion with both hands, he hit him with a modified power slam. Elektra heard the WOOSH as all of the air was driven out of Triple H's lungs. The silver-eyed Diva squealed with delight, jumping up and down on her good leg.

In front of her, Batista grabbed the top rope with both hands, almost tearing it out of the ringpost. He bellowed with rage and triumph. Elektra clapped her hands. Her eyes glued to Batista, she pointed at the Game. "Finish him!" She was vaguely aware that she was screaming, but she was too pumped up with adrenaline to notice. This was the moment more than a year in the making, the moment she had known was inevitable when she turned that corner and came face to face with Dave Batista— "Finish him! Powerbomb his ass straight to hell!"

Whirling on his heel, the Animal turned back toward his former friend and mentor. Striding toward Triple H, he grabbed him, and for the second time in the match, set him up for the Batista Bomb. This time, there was no low blow; with a grunt of exertion, Batista hoisted the Cerebral Assassin up onto his shoulders.

In that instant, time seemed to hesitate, and in a blinding flash, Elektra saw her past year in the WWE flit past her eyes. And in that single moment, she realized that all of it, all the pain, all the heartache, all the anguish, all of it had been worth it, because it had led to this, to this one instant in time. Evolution hadn't rejected her and Batista; rather, they had evolved beyond it, and that was what terrified the Game.

Because what she and the Animal felt for one another was more powerful than any faction.

The force of the Batista Bomb shook the ring, and for a second, the silver-eyed Diva was sure that it was going to collapse. But, miraculously, it held, and Batista dropped down to his knees, almost falling across Triple H, grabbing his leg, hooking it for the pin. Chioda crawled to his side, his arm rising and falling with what seemed like indeterminable slowness.

1…

2…

3…

Elektra blinked, her mouth falling open. With numb fingers, she reached over and pinched her arm, and the sharp pain that followed told her more than words that she was not dreaming; that Dave Batista, her Dave Batista, was the new World Heavyweight Champion.

The gray-eyed Diva tried to scream with excitement, but no sound would come out. She clapped both hands over her mouth, trying to calm the breath that was tearing in and out of her lungs. She swayed on her feet, and only the cast immobilizing her left leg prevented her from collapsing to her knees. She grabbed onto the ring for support, trying to will herself into action, but she couldn't move past this moment—and deep down, she really didn't want to.

In the ring, Mike Chioda handed Batista the World Heavyweight Championship, its title plate still bearing the name of Triple H. The Animal clutched it to his chest, falling forward on hands and knees onto the canvas as though in prayer. His face was contorted with emotion, tears rolling down his cheeks. Just seeing him in this rare moment of strength and vulnerability affected Elektra deeply, and she burst into tears as well, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.

Batista rose slowly to his feet, still holding onto his hard-fought title. He turned toward the far corner of the ring, and Elektra noticed that Triple H—the now former World Heavyweight Champion, she noted with extreme satisfaction—was up as well, panting for breath, leaning heavily against the turnbuckles for support.

For a long tense moment, the two rivals stared at each other. Finally, Batista raised the World Championship with one hand, clenching the other into a fist. He roared wordlessly, as though somehow saying: This is mine now…and if you want to take it away from me, you better kill me first…

Slowly, the Cerebral Assassin's head drooped down toward his chest, and he sagged to the ground, rolling out of the ring in defeat. He was met by Flair, who wrapped both arms around him, supporting him as he led him away from the ring. The Game did not turn around.

Elektra watched him go for a second or two, and in the midst of her tears, a coldness came over her features. Her lips moved soundlessly, forming two words:

Goodbye, Hunter…

With that, she turned back to the ring, and in doing so, turned her back forever on Triple H.

As soon as she saw Batista, emotion overcame her again, and fresh tears began to run down her cheeks. The Animal, with obvious effort, climbed up to the second rope, holding up the title belt—his title belt. Above him, pyrotechnics exploded, filling the arena with noise and light and smoke. Elektra saw and heard none of it, however; all of her attention was on the man she loved. More than anything, she wanted to be there in that ring with him, but still, she hung back. As much as they had endured together, this moment was for him, and him alone.

Just then, Batista looked down at her, and the love for her that shone in his eyes spoke more than words ever could. He hopped down off the ropes and motioned for her to come into the ring. Without waiting for him to assist her, Elektra slid awkwardly under the bottom rope. The Animal was instantly at her side, pulling her carefully to her feet. As soon as she was up, he held her at arm's length, regarding her with what could have been awe.

Elektra moved in to kiss him, but he held her back. "Wait a minute, baby," he protested. "I've got blood all over me; I don't want to mess up your clothes."

The gray-eyed Diva shook her head incredulously, amazing that at this moment, all Batista could think about was something as trivial as her attire. "I don't care!" she retorted, moving in closer again. "Dave, you did it. You did it!"

Batista shook his head. "No, baby…we did it." With then, he leaned in and sealed her mouth in a kiss. Wrapping his free arm around her shoulders, he crushed her against him, his lips devouring hers. Elektra held his face in her hands as she kissed him back.

She could have spent the rest of the evening in that ring, kissing the Animal, but Batista pulled back abruptly, holding up his index finger. "Hang on a minute." Turning away, he walked toward the other side of the ring while Elektra watched, puzzled. She couldn't hold back a shocked gasp as he dropped the massive World Championship on the canvas, stepping over it as though it had ceased to mean anything.

The Animal stuck his head through the ropes, leaning over to say something to Lillian Garcia, who had moved up to the side of the ring. The Raw announcer smiled, nodded, and handed what looked like a microphone to the new World Heavyweight Champion.

Batista thanked her, then pulled his body back into the ring, turning around and walking back toward his girlfriend. He halted a few feet away, raising the mic to his mouth. Elektra cocked her head to the side, staring at him with obvious bewilderment.

The Animal's voice was rough, rasping with raw emotion. He seemed to be having trouble catching his breath. His dark eyes bored into Elektra's. "I had a whole speech ready, but after everything that's just happened…I can't remember what the hell I was going to say." He paused a minute, took a few more deep breaths, and continued. "All I do know is that I love you…and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Another pause, another breath. "So, baby…Elektra…"

Batista stopped, dropping the mic back down to his side, and opening up his other hand to reveal a small black velvet box. Elektra felt her heart plummet into her stomach, felt her legs buckle beneath her. The Animal flipped the top open, and looking up at her once more, dropped down to one knee. He extended the box toward her, light reflecting off the beautiful diamond ring inside, as he lifted up the mic again.

"Will you marry me?"

For a single, gut-wrenching second, Elektra felt her heart stop. She gasped, gulping in a lungful of oxygen at the same time. She pressed both hands to her chest, trying to tell herself that this was real, trying to reassure herself that she wasn't dreaming. She took a step toward the Animal, then another, until she was right in front of him. Her throat was filled with tears, and she quickly motioned for the mic, trying to collect herself to say what mattered before emotion made her break down completely.

Batista stared at her expectantly, his eyes filled with anxiousness and hope. The silver-eyed Diva raised the mic to her lips and uttered only one word:

"Yes!"

Batista's face creased in a smile, a cry of joy escaping his throat. Rising to his feet, he wrapped his arms around Elektra, lifting her off the ground. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and then finally her lips. The gray-eyed Diva entwined her arms around his neck, kissing him back with a ferocity and a hunger that--just like the love she felt for him--she knew would never fade away.

Wrestlemania 21 had ended, but for the new World Heavyweight Champion and his new fiancée, their life together was just beginning.

THE END