Disclaimer: I own nothing but myself, and I'm not even in this thing!

Set during the whole WWF vs ECWCW thingy...

Tonight and the Rest of My Life

Part I

"If you stare at that thing any harder," started Chris Jericho, "it'll burst into flames."

For the past fifteen minutes Kurt Angle, aka The Olympic Champion, had stood motionless in the middle of the hallway. His mind was entirely fixed on the envelope gripped in his hand. A kind of grim determination etched his face and Chris had been strongly compelled to watch him.

I think he's about to go snap, crackle, and pop… And I've got a front row seat!

"I'm supposed to deliver this letter," Kurt said, finally. "But I don't know if I should."

"Well, who's it from? And who is it for?"

"I can't tell you who it's from exactly. I promised him that I wouldn't read it and I wouldn't say who it's from."

"So…what's the problem?"

"Well, the guy's from the Alliance. How do I know that it's not some kinda trick?"

"Easy," Chris said. He took the letter from Kurt's hands, tearing open the plain white envelope. Leaning against a nearby door, he began reading it. "Looks like a fan letter. And it's for Kane!"

"Uh, Chris? I wouldn't do that."

"Why not? I gotta make sure there's nothin' bad about us in this. This guy could be trying to start some sort of inter-federation conflict or something. I'm just looking out for our well-being."

"You're just using that as an excuse to be nosey."

Chris waved the pages under Kurt's nose. "You mean to tell me that you aren't the teensiest bit curious about what a guy from the other team wants with the Big Red Machine?"

Kurt was silent.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back…

As he reached the bottom of the page, his eyes opened wide in surprise.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, almost frantic. "What does it say? No wait, I don't wanna know."

"What kind of person would write this – " His words were cut off as the door he was leaning on opened and he tumbled into the room. He looked up from his landing spot to find two large men standing over him.

"Can we help you?" Taker said.

"Umm... Special delivery for Kane," Chris said. He held the letter up to Kane.

"And why are you readin' my brother's mail?"

"Uh… well… ya see... it's from a member of the Alliance. And I was just trying to make sure there wasn't anything bad in it."

"Like what?" Taker asked. "Anthrax?"

"Well… no... I don't think..." For one of the few times in his life, Chris was at a loss for words. "Hey, Kurt!" he yelled. "Little help..."

Kurt poked his head in the doorway. "I told him not to read it," he said.

"Oohh... big help," Chris said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thanks a lot." Chris got up off the floor and brushed himself off.

"What's it say?" Taker asked.

Kane handed Taker the first page as he started on the second. "Fan mail," he said.

"From someone in the Alliance? I doubt that."

"Oh, it's fan mail all right. This guy is a big fan."

"How do you know it's a guy?"

"Read the last paragraph on the second page."

Grabbing the second page, Taker read aloud. " 'I watch you day and night, my dark angel. The way you move, muscles flexing and bulging beneath your sweaty skin. The way you always stand so tall, always on your own and always so far away from me. I watch and I wait for that perfect moment when you will finally see me and long for me as I do for you. I wait and I dream of us becoming one as I enter you and make you mine.' "

"Whoa," Kurt said. "No amount of therapy will ever erase that image."

"Well, looks like someone's hot for Kane," Chris said.

Grabbing the rest of the letter, Kane stuffed the pages into a nearby waste basket. "Someone's idea of a sick joke," he said. He picked up his bag and left the locker room. Taker followed him.

"Well," Kurt started. "I guess that's the end of that." He too left.

Chris was about to leave, when he noticed the letter lying in the basket. For some unknown reason, it intrigued him that someone, especially another man, would have those kinds of feelings for Kane. He took the letter from the trash and put the pages in his back pocket.