Overdue: A Chris Jericho/Trish Stratus Fanfic
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The contents of this story is the sole property of me. The characters,
however, belong the the WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) Corporation.
The events that take place in this fic all follow the March 1 airing of
RAW. Since the story itself all takes place in (mostly) the same scene,
I've decided to list this whole fic as one chapter, though whenever the
momentum of the story changes, I called it a new chapter. Confusing, eh?
This is my very first fanfic on the site, and I'd like to know what
everyone thinks, so please send reviews, good or bad. Thanks so much!
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Chapter 1
Chris charged down the hall after Christian, unsure of whether he was really in search of him, or Trish. He wanted so badly to be able to get his hands on Christian.
:That bastard. He wont even be able to make it to Mania if I find him. You'd better run you son of a bitch.:
Anger and fury raged through him. Something he had never felt toward another human being. It wasn't just anger, either. It was contempt rising to a boiling point, where at, could drive Chris to kill. But was he really at that stage with Christian? Or was it himself that he felt that passionate hate for? For being so blind, for letting his love for Trish hurt her. The deep, genuine affection he felt for her is what caused this.
Chris stopped sharply, promptly, dead in his tracks, before rounding a corner backstage. He could barely catch out of the corner of his eye, Christian rounding the next corner. And Chris was able to watch him escape without blaming and cursing him. Chris blamed himself. Only himself.
He put the car in drive and stomped furiously on the gas pedal, steering left and right down the crowded streets. Atlanta was packed to capacity, it seemed. RAW wasn't even over yet. Chris hadn't told anyone he was leaving, he just needed to get away.
"Damn you, Jericho. You have ruined her life in more ways than one. Just quit... just give it up."
He passed right through a red light, nearly smacking a passing car in their bumper.
"Shit."
Chris stormed down the streets. He hadn't been in Atlanta too often, but he knew where he was going. Two weeks was too damn long. She had been to the hospital three times to visit him while they were in Bakersfield, and had missed a house show to be with him.
He wouldn't let himself believe that she was there because she loved him. She was there because she was a good friend. Any good friend would want to make sure you're okay, right?
But she missed a house show for him, and she missed her lunch date with Lita the day after, and - !!
Chris slammed on the breaks. The cyclist he almost hit flashed him a finger and yelled some words that Chris couldn't hear through the windshield. His heart rate shot up further than it was already in this rush, and it took a few seconds before the shocked look on his face subsided.
"God, hold it together, Chris!" He took a deep breath and continued to drive, the thoughts circling through his head nearly sending him into convulsions.
There was nothing he could do. Simply nothing. Time and again he'd ran the words through, creating in his mind the perfect scenario, where even the slightest utterance would relieve her of any question, any doubt, and she'd know once and for all how right and true this would be.
He loved her so much it made him feel vulnerable to anything and everything around him. He loved her more than he could say. More even than the very essence of the word 'love' explained. Why else would he feel such devotion to her, and such a need to protect her? How could she possibly not see the unyielding, uncorrupt longing in his eyes every time they met with hers? How could she not plainly see that passion in those deep, icy pools? He made it so obvious to everyone. Maybe she wasn't seeing it because she didn't want to.
He could not stand the thought of her not returning his love like she had before; not ever again tasting her lips, or feeling her breath so warm on his cheek. Never taking her into his arms, and feeling, knowing, through her embrace that she would belong to him eternally.
It was the hardest thing that he ever had to learn how to do, to accept that what they had was not a relationship, and it would never become one. But for her sake and his both, he kept trying. He kept denying the feelings he had for her, kept resisting the desire and need to plunge his lips to hers every time their eyes met, and adoring her sweet body with his hands like he wanted so badly to do.
But he couldn't. He ruined everything he had with that bet. Any chance she may have thought of giving him. Any hope of once again feeling her soft caress, and the gentle twinge of her body when their bare skin met. How stupid could he be?
No, he wasn't stupid. That's just how he used to be back then. He was the kind of guy who would make bets, and jeopardize all respectability he had, and forget that there were other people in the world besides him. Trish Stratus changed that. She alone. Being with her, seeing the loving, friendly, warm look in her eye, and finding that someone could love him, trust him, put all of their fears behind them, and uniquely care for a man who never really cared for anyone else... that changed him.
He owed every bit of man that he is to her. Hell, he wouldn't be a man if it weren't for her. He would never know the true depth of the human heart had she not been there to show him.
And he wouldn't be driving himself crazy day in and day out, either.
He parked the car as close to the building as possible. Taking a deep breath, he opened the car door, and stepped outside, realizing he had never bothered to fasten his seatbelt. It was insane the things that this woman could do to him. Thoughts of her managed to overcome his common sense. Trish had a strange way of working him into oblivion.
Chapter 2
"How is it, Trish? Feel any better?" The hotel nurse questioned with a friendly, hopeful tone in her voice.
"It only hurts when I move it." Her ankle was propped up slightly, bandaged a bit, but in no real danger other than a slight pulsating pain when she'd move it suddenly. "It'll be okay. Thanks for all your help, really."
The nurse nodded and left the room, leaving an ice pack on Trish's side table, and a remote control to the T.V. near her bed.
Trish looked at the clock. 10:29. Well, she still had a half hour. She already missed her friends back at the arena. How she longed to get back inside that ring, to do what she loved with her closest companions, in the spotlight she was so used to. Injuries rarely kept her from doing her job, or at least being there. She missed them all so much. And she missed Chris.
There was no telling how much she needed him right now. She could feel him within her. It had just been too long since she'd seen him. She had never known how beastly Christian could be, how utterly disrespectful. She had decided to look past any possibility of him hurting her now... now that she and Chris were friends. Why would Christian do such a thing? How can anyone be so jealous, and so awful, especially when he had nearly earned her trust?
That nightmare didn't seem to matter as much now. She was safe from him inside her hotel room, though she was certainly not fond of being there. She reached her petite, small hand out and grabbed the remote. The reception on the television in the room was not too great, but she managed to find the channel.
Ah, commercials. At her most impatient, waiting moment, she had to delay for commercials. Trish reached her arm back out toward the table at her bedside, and grasped the ice pack, immediately chilling her fingers. Now that she thought about it... it was awfully cold in the hotel room, as well.
"I wish Chris..." she stopped herself. Her heart began beating a slight bit faster. Why? Why did every single thing she did, every action she made, in some way make her want Chris?
"No... you have been through this too many times, girl. No more. After what he did causes you this kind of pain," she said, eyeing her bruised, badly sprained ankle, "there will be no more endless pining for Chris Jericho. No."
What was she talking about? Chris did nothing wrong. She always found some way to blame the things that happened to her on him. He did one thing wrong that has forever endangered the chances of them having a decent relationship, and everything is suddenly his fault. When did it all become his problem? Christian was the one that did this.
Speaking of Christian, the commercials came to an end, and shown on RAW, live, was a "moments ago" frame, captioned by J.R. The man in center-stage was none other than Christian. Trish cringed just at the sight of his face. But what was he doing out there with all of the Highlight Reel setting around him? She went silent, thoughts and all, and directed her attention to the T.V. set.
"...if it's a highlight you people want, look no further than last week, when I clotheslined Trish Stratus' pretty little head right off her body."
Trish said nothing, just stared at the screen intensely, as if she'd hoped to burn a hole through Christian with her furious eyes.
"...and then I had her in the Walls of Jericho, and she was screaming in pain. But later that night, I took Trish back to my hotel room, and I had her screaming in pleasure."
Ignoring most of the comments he spoke after that, Trish sat up, a look of pure hatred and anger lingering in her eyes, and her mouth gaping the slightest bit, a glare forming that damn well might have caused the television set in front of her to short circuit. "You bastard... you low life dirty scum sucking bastard..." Trish almost wished she were there, injury or no, to tear Christian's big-mouthed face in two.
"Now, Jericho, I know you're sitting at home, watching TV, you've got your leg propped up, you're worried about your little girlfriend... I just want you to know, I did this for you. Trish Stratus ruined your life. Trish ruined our friendship. So I had to take matters into my own hands."
Trish could barely stay seated any longer. A mix of pain, frustration, liability, denial, fear, and hopelessness crossed over her features, all at the same time. She had never felt so much a living wreckage as she did hearing those words. She couldn't help but whisper to herself what she knew no one else could hear.
"Chris, no... don't believe him. I never meant to hurt you, no... no... honestly, I didn't. Chris..." As she continued to beg and plea to open air, Christian's words continued to pierce her.
"It's called tough love, Chris. And speaking of tough love, I spoke to Eric Bichoff, and he's put together a match."
As these words found their way to her through the speakers, she shook her head in disapproval and disbelief. She knew exactly what was coming, though she never expected her involvement with Chris to go so far.
"That match will be Christian, versus Chris Jericho, one-on-one, at WrestleMania."
"Oh dear God, no." A rush of hundreds of separate visions of past weeks came to Trish at once, cluttering her mind with absent thoughts of what she could have possibly created, and shielding her vision with a mass of tears, building up quickly. Chris can't fight... his knee... no...
"And Y2J, believe me, I'm gonna knock some damn sense into your head, and you will never, e-e-e-ever be the same again."
Not only had Christian managed to humiliate Jericho's existence, stealing his catchphrase, his entrance, his show, his finishing move... he had managed also to instill a mix of emotions within Trish that she had never felt before. She felt more guilt than anything else. Everything was her fault... everything. None of this would be happening if she hadn't gotten involved. How could she be so selfish, and how could she let something like this happen.
When the segment appeared to be over, and Trish felt compelled to turn her set off and resume emotionally degrading herself in fear and guilt, Chris Jericho appeared on the screen, gimping down the ramp toward the ring that Christian stood in. The crowd began to cheer, but Trish felt as though she was having a heart attack.
From then on, Trish could do nothing but stare, shocked, appalled, feeling feverish and almost as if she were going to die right then and there. Chris ran to the ring, bad knee and all, and began delivering an intense beating to the well-deserving Christian. But on whose behalf was this? Trish didn't mean for anything like this to happen. If anyone was to blame, it was her.
Christian escaped the ring, and Jericho threw the Highlight Reel furniture out of the ring, in his direction, screaming insults back at him. The scene was cut just then. Trish couldn't bare it. She turned the television off, and sat still for a prolonged few moments, in effort to gather herself.
Unable to find any strength within her, she gave in to the great pain in her stomach, and pounding of her head. She buried her face in her hands, and let out all of the tears she'd been keeping in so long. Her palms were eventually soaked, and her eyes felt like pumping blisters. Her whole room was nothing but the sound of a desperate, internally pained expulsion of tears and hopeless screams.
Chapter 3
It lasted a good five minutes before she could recollect why she was even crying. Oh god, she loved Chris more than anyone she'd ever known, and she'd let this happen to him. She didn't even see a thing like this coming. What was she supposed to do?
An inopportune knock, almost a pounding, came to her door, and before she could even respond, it burst open, and Trish felt arms wrapped around her body while she was still in bed.
"Trish, sweetie..."
She wiped the last film of waiting tears from her eyes, and looked to her side to find Chris, whom she, without second thought, lunged upward to, and hurled her arms forcefully around his neck.
She couldn't even find words. Any pain in her ankle from forcing herself upward was nothing compared to what she felt wrapped in his arms for the first time since they'd been dating. Chris ran his fingers through her long hair, and rocked her gently from side to side, blowing softly into her ear and harboring every last tear she needed to cry. Neither of them knew what this was for, and neither of them cared. Chris was happier than he'd ever been to just be holding her, comforting her, whether it would last or not, this was all he needed right now.
Trish closed her eyes so tightly, and buried her face deep into his shirt, crying pools onto his shoulder, and never letting her embrace go limp or lose strength. She felt like melting into him, becoming him. Not a single word that Christian spoke seemed to have an affect on either of them that moment.
But it did, more than either of them knew. Trish felt so utterly responsible for every amount of pain Chris had suffered in the past four months, and for every second he'd questioned himself for her. Chris, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to be able to meet Christian in the ring again, and show him and the world just what lengths he'd go to, to keep Trish Stratus safe, loved, in his arms. Whether she'd want to stay in his arms was another story. But right here, in this tight, constricting embrace, neither of them wasted a moment on silly words and cheap, confusing arguments.
They seemed to never want to part. If a reunion after two weeks was the cause of this, how would either of them be able to go another day without it?
Chris wanted to tell her right there. He wanted to give up his whole well constructed plan to protect Trish and himself by denying their feelings, and let every ounce of passion within him flow into Trish. He wanted to kiss her, and he wanted to touch her, and he wanted to make her feel everything he'd tried so hard to ignore. That would be more than enough to speak every emotion she'd made him feel, and every word he'd wanted so badly to whisper into her ear. But that was not what she needed right now.
Their bodies never left their conjoined position since he came into her room. Every bit of reason that either of them felt, telling them that this was not what was best, and this was not going to make their situation any easier, came second, while just holding each other was the most important thing. Trish's conscience told her that this was not going to heal her, it was not going to heal the wounds she'd left on Chris, and it was not going to change where they stood. She simply could not be in a relationship with this man after everything they'd been through, and certainly not now. She had caused so much pain to him, and cost him his best friend, and none of that could ever be taken back, even with the passion invoked in their tight, warm, tender hug.
Chris finally broke their deep embrace, to Trish's dismay, as she had found more comfort than ever in Chris those few minutes. They both had things that needed to be said. Trish held her eyes in place, tightly locked with his, and grasped all the courage she had left inside of her.
"I saw... I... saw what happened, Chris. I'm sorry. God knows I am so, so sorry... I r-... I ruined everyth-"
"Don't you dare say what I think you're going to. Trish... you have not ruined a damn thing. If anything, you've made it all better. You've made my life so much better."
"Don't lie to me, Christopher." Trish snapped, her eyes still never leaving his. "Lying to spare my feelings doesn't help anything."
"Denying the way someone feels for you because you're afraid of it doesn't help either."
His words were ironic, because he had always had problems accepting whether or not Trish's love was real. He always had a lingering doubt that she would never really return the love he so desperately wanted from her, and any signs of affection she showed recently were blurry in his eyes. But he liked to think if he told himself enough that it was real, it would be. Or he would at least be disillusioned enough to believe it.
Trish looked into Chris' eyes. His hand was rested on hers, and he was still stoking her hair softly. He certainly did not want to turn a soft, almost sensual moment, into a bunch of yelling and cursing and misunderstanding.
"Chris... I don't even want to talk about our relationship right now. I still don't know where we stand. J- just... I don't want you to face Christian."
"Relax, baby. I'm happy to go in there, with or without this knee still hurt. I'd do anything for you. You know I would. Anything."
Trish gave a heavy sigh. Her displeasure spread across her face, and she looked down toward her hand, lying in Jericho's. He curled his fingers so they intertwined with hers, and he raised both their hands and gently touched her cheek. She looked back up at him. For once, Chris could not read her expression. There were so many emotions mixed within her. This was all he knew.
"What's wrong, baby?" Chris brought his face closer to hers, and brushed his lips against her tear-moistened cheek. He knew how fragile she was, and he struggled not to upset her in any way, but being this close to her now, he was unable to hold back what he needed to say, what he needed to do.
"This isn't about me. This has nothing to do with me, other than that I'm the only reason you're going to have to risk your safety out there. You're injured, Chris. You could be hurt so easily, and if you are... that is going to be my fault. I do NOT want to see you get hurt, and I—"
"Trish... ever since I first got to know you, and got to know and love and appreciate the wonderful woman you are, it has been my pledge to myself to never allow you to be hurt. Everything I've done these past few months, putting my own safety on the line, it's all been for you. I know you don't want me to be hurt, but I couldn't care less whether or not I'm hurt if it's going to prevent you from being hurt."
"Chris..."
"You mean more to me than anyone, and I'll be damned if I allow Christian to get away with what he did to you. Nobody hurts my girl like that. Nobody hurts my Trishy like that. You are my everything. I don't care whether we're friends or..."
Trish switched her position on the bed. She grimaced when her ankle bent, and whimpered a bit, which immediately caused Jericho to grip her tightly and help make her comfortable. He stood up and tended to her swollen joint, placing pillows underneath, and cooling the ankle with the ice pack.
"No, it's fine... sit, please."
Chris looked at her, and nodded, resuming his position on the bed. Trish pulled herself into his lap, and leaned against him. He didn't expect that display, but he willingly accepted her, though extremely careful of how he acted.
"Just promise me it will be okay. I just don't need you to hurt yourself more over me. I don't deserve you doing this all the time."
He smiled, and gently rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Sweetheart, you don't have to worry. I'll be fine. And you... you, you deserve everything and more."
Chris had so much to say to her... so much more than he was able to squeeze out now. He was so worried that anything he might say to her would scare her away. It was impossible for him to be completely comfortable around her anymore. But he loved her. And they were great friends. Friends... that's all they'd ever be.
Chapter 4
Leaning back in his arms, resting her head on his chest, Trish felt an uncontrollable urge to let go all instinct and intuition she had about their relationship, and just give in to the remarkable, sensual man she lay in. She had put herself in these predicaments all too often. Time after time, she'd fall for a man and give herself to him completely, only to be betrayed and hurt time after time. The strange thing about Jericho was that she had never once felt that he would ever betray or hurt her until she found out about the bet. Damn that bet. And now she was wrapped in the arms of a man who bet his friend a dollar he could sleep with her before that friend could sleep with her best friend. Oh, this was so confusing. And so completely wrong.
She felt as though she was committing a crime, being there like this with him. The bet wasn't the big deal anymore... they had both managed to see past that childish ploy and become friends. In fact, Chris was probably Trish's best friend in the world right now.
Anyone who saw them in the open would swear they were dating. They act just the same now as they did then. Except for the uncomfortable aura between the two of them, and the loss of words during meaningless gazes. But they didn't feel meaningless. When she looked into those big, beautiful, crystal blue eyes of his, she could see everything inside him. If that gaze was meaningless, then she had every right to be defensive. But it certainly was not meaningless.
Every time she looked at him, she was more than able to see, through those eyes, all of the truths and all of the lies. When he said he loved her so long ago, that was the truest, most beautiful and comprehensive of all. She could see it, and there was no mistaking what she saw in those eyes.
Somehow, she simply could not allow herself to go back to him. To be with him that way. It wasn't going to happen. Friendship was the best thing for them, in every aspect of the word. They made better friends. At least with them being friends, Trish wouldn't get her heart broken again. She was so afraid of that.
If this whole distrust was based on fear, and this whole unwillingness to be "his girl" again was because she was afraid, then it was a bunch of shit. They both knew it. She melted every time she looked at him. When they kissed, it was with such a passion, and yet such beauty, in the most gentle and romantic of ways. How can she be afraid of that?
But what was stopping it from all being a lie again. What was to stop him from fooling her again, into believing that he did love her, when it was all just a bet.
Damn it, it was not all a bet. If their whole relationship had been a bet, why were they still where they are now? Why was she engulfed in his arms, melting into his body, dripping with his heat, feeling the electricity in his touch as his fingers tickled over her bare arms. Why was this silence so reassuring? There was never any such thing as uncomfortable silence between them. They could be next to each other, just listening to their breaths mingling in the air, and all at that moment would be right with the world.
She let a short, breathy moan escape, and she thought to herself, "I want you with me forever. Don't ever let me go... just don't let me go."
Or at least she could have sworn she had only thought it. But the way Chris touched her at that moment said she had let it slip. His soft but shaky palms and fingers loosened and slid upward to her shoulders, and back down to just below her throat, gently stroking up and down between her shoulders and her neck, while he lowered his head and planted one delicate kiss on her right shoulder.
Chapter 5
"Trish, darling...I came here to tell you something. Well... n-... no, I came here... to tell you everything."
She almost missed everything he said, because the tone of his voice blended so well with this wonderful silence. So calm, so gentle, and soft... but those words made her so nervous. Why couldn't they just sit in the silence, drowning in each other? Why couldn't they, as friends, just love one another, love the feel of one another, and never have to deal with these words. They'd never have to respond, and never have to worry about it. Maybe Trish was the only one worrying.
She took her sweet time replying. She wanted the calmness to last the whole night, and she wouldn't have to worry about anyone being hurt, or anyone sacrificing, or any confessions...
"...Is 'everything' really necessary?" She whispered, her eyes closed, and her head resting on his chest.
Chris slowly and gently nudged himself out of his position, and Trish followed suit, swinging her body around, being extremely careful about her ankle. She caught a glimpse of those exotic, whimsical, magical blue eyes, and was immediately hooked again, focused on just what he had to say.
"Yeah, it sort of is, baby. It's important."
In past weeks, Chris had made every attempt, it seemed, to get her alone and be able to talk to her without interruption. She had never paid much thought to what he could possibly be dying to tell her, but now she was more than ready to hear anything he had to say.
"What is it, Chris?"
"Well, I... I sorta... I haven't... haven't been the same the past few weeks. I've been f- fine and all, with us being friends... but are we going to actually be friends in all respects of the word?" He cleared his throat and continued, his tone now soft, and voice low and breathy. "Friends... don't normally lie in bed together feeling each others' breaths and gazing lovingly into each others' eyes."
Trish looked at him... ahh, 'gazing lovingly into each others' eyes.' That was all she ever wanted to do sometimes. She had been holding back her true feelings for him for weeks since she'd become his friend again. There was something inside her that conflicted with every bit of dignity and reason she had, and just wanted to take back all she said about being friends. To just leap into his arms, kiss him with such intensity and loyalty as she once used to. The kind of kiss that was exclusive to them, with such an amount of passion that she nearly collapsed to the floor every time their lips met. That was so long ago, and she needed to taste him again before the withdrawal tore her completely in two.
"I... I don't know... what I'm doing. You're right. I'm so sorry." She turned away from him. She would have stood up and walked away from him if she was able to move her ankle. He was right. Friends don't have that sort of contact... friends don't act this way around each other. If any sort of interaction between the two of them was going to work, it was going to have to be friendship.
"Trish, no, I'm... I'm not saying I don't.., like it... I just..." His words were not coming out right. They rarely ever did when he was barring his heart and soul to her. Chris impulsively reached his hand out and grabbed at her wrist.
But as soon as he made contact, it was just as quickly broken. Trish jolted her hand away from him, instantly breaking his heart and numbing his entire body to the point he nearly passed out. That one pure and simple reflex symbolized so much rejection to him. He had no idea how to react to her, he had no idea what she wanted. What was she looking for? Five minutes ago she was lying inside him, her body contoured with his, begging him to never let her go... and now she was so rough and defensive, backing away at his touch, and rejecting the obvious feelings that radiated from both of them through their heat and simple gestures.
Chris sat still for the longest time, waiting for her. Waiting, because it was all he could do. He leaned slightly to the side, trying to catch what ever expression she was conveying that she concealed from him, for what ever reason. She tucked her face between her palms, and let loose the tears that were burning her eyes.
She did not want to let him see her cry. The last thing he needed to see was that the pain of not having him in a real relationship still had that affect on her, and caused her so much hurt.
He so badly wanted just to kiss her pain away; to just hold her and caress her body in whatever way he could that would make her forget about that hopelessness and hurt that she felt. He would love to feel her soft lips on his once more, and to steal her breath while he was at it. But he respected her far too much to allow himself that kind of control over her. Trish was so fragile, in every way. Chris wasn't sure how much more she could stand, and whether or not she'd be able to cope. This was precisely why he hadn't told her the truth about his feelings in months. What would it do to the sweet woman he felt them for?
"Trish... would you like me to leave?" Chris was nearly ready to give up. Every attempt he made was a fruitless effort. He never got anywhere with her. More than anything, he didn't want to hurt her more. He'd spoken over and over how much it meant to him that Trish never get hurt, that he be able to protect her.
He certainly wouldn't stand in the way of her happiness. If he had to leave right now and never see her beautiful face again, he would do it. It would kill him, but she meant that much to him.
Trish turned her face toward him, stained with light streaks of tears trickling down both her cheeks. A mostly undefined smile spread across her lips, and she succumbed for a few waiting moments to him again. The look and feel of pure rejection, unwantedness, and unwillingness would not leave his face or his body, but he loved that smile in more ways than one, because it might be the last he'd ever see from her.
"Two weeks, Chrissy..." Trish started. She managed to pull herself up off of the bed, and utilizing every piece of furniture in the room, hobbled her way to the door. She pressed her hand on the knob, and turned, pulling it back toward her. Another couple of tears fell from her deep chocolate eyes, and she had to reach to the very core of her being to find the strength for her next words to actually leave her mouth.
"Don't you dare, Chris Jericho, even think about getting hurt out there."
Chris just stared at her for the longest time, expressionless. Pained so deeply that he could not even muster up the strength to show it. Trish couldn't even look back at him. Her eyes remained closed, and tears just poured down her face. He didn't have to question her, though. Whatever the reason for this, he accepted it fully as what he needed to do for her, and he said he'd do anything for her.
Trish knelt by the door, unable to support herself and the heavy heart she bore right then. Never had anything in the world been so difficult. This was all for him, all for Jericho. Trish could see in his face every single time her eyes brushed over him how much distress she caused him. She simply couldn't bare it anymore.
There were some things between them better shut out forever instead of being retraced. Some things were too painful. Those things, those feelings would never leave her, especially not after tonight. She had never before made herself sick enough with love, betrayal, fear, pain, lust, devotion, any of the millions of emotions he had brought out in her, that she would spend continuous nights knelt over a toilet, unable to retain any of her food for so long.
This thing with Christian was the absolute last she could take. The final move was to let Chris go. Let him go from her life forever. Force him out even, because it was the best thing for him. Not at all what she wanted, but she couldn't be selfish when every physical and emotional fiber within him was at stake. She had cost him so much already. Nothing could fix this. Nothing could repair her, her broken heart, worn down body, the murderous guilt she felt. Nothing at all could fix the suffering she had caused Chris. She had made him long for her too much, while he had no idea what it was he was really longing for. A girl who could be the sole reason for every bit of insecurity, anger, rage, depression, anything that he felt that she could see had obviously been killing him all along. She didn't want to be responsible for this any longer. She couldn't go on living knowing that she had done this to him, and continued to let it happen. She wouldn't let it go on. One way or another, she would let him go. Stop selfishly clutching on to him and tearing him away from every chance he had at happiness. Stop that look in his eyes that she never wanted to see again... that look of loss. He had lost everything. Not just Trish, not just his best friend, Christian, but also himself, and everything that came with him. It was gone now because Trish Stratus tore at every bit of him until it was all separate from the rest. Never again would she allow herself even a days worth of holding on, hoping for it to all magically heal, while in reality, all it was doing was destroying.
Chapter 6
Chris stood up, and at that instance his whole body was weaker than it had ever been before. He had to use every ounce of energy he had just to take a single step forward. Every step he took toward that door was pure torture. It was worse than the torture he caused himself day after day trying to find the courage to tell Trish how he felt. It was worse than looking her in the eye and forcing back the words he practiced at night to protect her. It was worse than pretending he could only be her friend. It was worse than being with her in bed to comfort her and hold her, knowing that it would never become more to her than a friendly act of concern. It was worse "breaking up" the second time.
Having to watch her collapse onto the floor in tears next to the door and not being able to do a damn thing about it pierced his heart like nothing ever could. He felt like he'd been struck with lightning; being alive and knowing there was nothing to stop it was far worse than dying from it.
He couldn't watch her any longer. All of the pain he had been feeling for four months couldn't possibly amount to whatever she was feeling in that instance. He didn't know what, or why, but it was far worse than what he had learned to endure.
He still couldn't question her. There was nothing to be done. He took one more step toward that door and felt his heart snap in two and his stomach rise so high in his chest he could swear it was coming up his throat and he was choking to death on it.
In one sudden burst of strength, probably the very last he'd have before he could make it to the hotel lobby, he made his way to her. He took her head into both his palms and lifted it from her hands. She still could not look at him, and there was nothing that could possibly stop those tears from streaming endlessly down her gorgeous face. Chris dabbed her cheeks with his thumb pads, trying to wipe the moisture from below her eyes. In one swift motion he bent down, pressed his lips to her forehead, and wrapped his arms more tightly around her body than he ever had before. Any tighter, and he could have crushed her lungs. He felt no compliance on her part, but that was perfectly okay for him, because he didn't need that to make him happy. He had her in his arms for one last time, and even if she didn't return that act of love, forever solidifying his true passion and devotion to her, he still had that last memory of her body against his own, which was more than enough to justify his everlasting love.
He let go of her body, and left the room, walking like a zombie toward the elevator. Nothing from then on would be the same for him. He wouldn't be able to make it to work anymore knowing she'd be there, and there was a chance he'd run into her at some point. How in the hell would he be able to deal with that? He wouldn't be able to answer the phone for hope, or fear, that he'd hear her voice on the other end. He wouldn't be able to live. Who was he kidding? Embracing her those few short seconds was a basic acceptance to the proposition that he was no longer going to be part of her life, and that alone would be the death of him.
He approached the elevator, pushed the down arrow, and waited for the doors to open to him. The slight increasing hum of the machine drew closer, until finally the doors drew back and he stepped inside. The clear round button marked '1' lit up as his finger touched it, but as the doors slowly began to shut, he stepped right back out into the second floor hallway.
He froze in position, breathing a slight bit heavier than would be considered normal. His mouth was just the tiniest bit agape, and every breath that drew outward, he could hear with clear distinction. At least he was still breathing. That meant he was alive. He turned his head to the right, staring down the empty hallway. After a moment of thoughtless onlooking, feeling possessed by something inside him, Chris took a single step in that direction. From that point on, he had no control whatsoever to any of his actions.
Chapter 7
Trish sat on the end of her bed, still as hopelessly crying and aching as before. Her eyes were finally open, staring blankly through her tears, through the door she had left open, into an empty, desolate, silent hall. For once her mind was completely empty. She felt bare, as she had been so used to an endless flash feature of thoughts and images speeding through her head. It felt so unusual, and only caused her to cry harder, forcing her eyes shut at the sting of the profuse saline liquid.
He stood at the open entranceway of her room, staring. Not once blinking since his eyes met her frame again. If this was what he had to do to, see her crying in order to be able to see her at all, he sure as hell wouldn't let anything get in the way of him doing that. His body was so sore and numb, he wasn't sure what was keeping him standing. Nothing, not a single word she said, not a single action she made at him could change this now. He loved her, yes. He respected her, yes. But if leaving her forever because it's what she wanted was what he had to do for love, he wasn't willing. He'd be forced to lie himself into oblivion every day of his life. He'd be forced to look away whenever she came near, which was something that not even with the most heightened sense of ability, would he be able to con himself into doing. His very existence was her. If she needed him to leave to be happy, or safe, or whatever it was she wanted, she would just have to meet those needs some other way, because Chris Jericho would never be able to tear that piece of his life away even If he wanted to. Even if he tried to. So he just wasn't going to try.
She lowered her hands from her face again, after pushing aside all of the tears that attached themselves to her lower eyelid, before they were able to fall. She blinked once, and once again, and the moment she made eye contact with him...
"Trish Stratus, I love you. Too much to leave, even if you beg me to."
Her lips were suddenly engulfed by the warm, moist, soft flesh that she had been dying to feel for so, so very long. Chris' lips were so familiar, so physically essential to her. Her eyes were sent shooting open at the electricity in his touch, the shock of her mouth being once again adored by this man. And then she slowly closed them, subsiding to him.
He held her so tenderly, his gentle hands sliding up and down the length of her sides, his strong, firm body only inches from her. His kiss was so inviting, and so alluring, and so- oh God...
She felt his lips slowly part, and hers followed, an involuntary movement. He intensified the kiss, treating her to the utmost passion, which he had longingly desired to show her every time he saw her. He adored her. There was no question. The fiery passion in his kiss was obvious, but she could feel in it every bit just as much affection, and pure love. His kiss was the most true and breathtaking she had ever felt, and the only pair of lips she'd ever want to be on hers again.
He slowly edged forward, gently lowering her back to the bed. His arms were wrapped around her, gliding up and down, his fingers swaying lightly over her spine.
Trish folded her arms around Chris's back, clutching onto his shoulders, pulling him into her. Her nails dug the very slightest bit into his flesh, only driving him to push himself closer to her. He so cautiously pushed her further toward the center of the bed, climbing over her, worshiping her in any way he could.
His tongue flicked gently against hers, and coiled back into his mouth, repeating the pattern. She returned every second of the passion he delivered, offering her tongue as well, teasing him in the sweetest way imaginable. He only broke the kiss to gasp for air, and the second he felt his lungs fill, his mouth was hers again. A rush of emotions circled over Trish, but none so much as utter bliss. She needed this from him, in every way. She needed to be his. She needed to feel him, to feel his body, to have his hands on her. Not in a perverse way, but in the most loving, genuinely devoted way possible.
He loved her, and she too loved him, and she would do anything to prove that. Anything to show him that she no longer wanted to pull away, defensive or self-conscious. She just wanted to be his, whether it was right or wrong, or whether it would hurt, or leave all of their questions unanswered in history. She wanted to be with him, and to be his Trishy again.
She opened her mouth to accept him, not holding back in the least. So many temptations had arisen while she was with him, every physical need was being fulfilled right now. Everything she had been missing from him, and from his "friendship". There could be no more waiting, no more wishing, no more worries. Her worries nearly destroyed everything they had. She let him have his way with her, in order to prove that it was real, that she could give herself to him without that nervousness forcing her into retreat.
His hands just dangled underneath her, holding her back, holding her tightly to his body. Their breaths were so conscious together as they mingled inside their mouths, and when the intense, moist kiss broke, their breaths, heavy and overdue, swarmed between them.
Their eyes both opened, lost in each others' gaze, their lips barely grazing, their bodies tightly cemented together, as if nothing could ever tear them apart again, and their warmth shared in the chilled atmosphere of the hotel room, they were all bits of the attachment that both Chris and Trish yearned so badly for. Both of them denied needing this kind of contact, but it was so true how lost they were without the feel of each others skin on their own, and the taste of their lips and tongues that drove them both wild. This night itself was long overdue. If neither of them could say in words what they were feeling, they would show each other, make each other see how much they loved, needed, pined for, desired that touch, that kiss.
Breathing hard and desperately into him, and never once breaking her eye contact with him by even blinking, Trish submitted herself to him.
"Christopher... my sweet Chris... I am so... s- so wrong. I..." she had to catch her breath. "I love you... I love you... never have I loved anyone the way I love you. I have never felt like this before."
"Shh... Trish, baby, just let me belong to you, and all of my dreams will have come true in one word."
She closed her eyes for a prolonged few seconds, her breathing still as heavy a before. When she opened them, the slightest, most delicate whisper Chris had ever heard from her came in a dreamy sigh. "Yes... forever..."
Chris had never smiled so wide in his life. He rested his forehead on hers, and stared lovingly into her eyes, breathing as softly as he could onto her. His hands slid downward, and traced the lining of the bottom of her shirt, his fingers gently digging up under the fabric, and tracing along her bare skin while his mouth found hers again.
The two of them lay there for hours it seemed, breathing sweet utterances into each other, sharing their body heat, embracing their flesh. Chris's lips gently trailed down her cheek, finding his way to her cheekbone, and planting short kisses along her neck, while she lunged her head back, granting him space to just devour her.
Her hands swept through his straggly blond hair, pushing his face further toward her bare skin. She breathed in deeply, just loving the scent of him, and the cool air, which she could barely feel as long as his skin was touching her.
In the most delicate, sincere, and considerate moments of affection she had ever been surrendered to, Chris Jericho, the love of her life, managed to remove any and all doubt or insecurity she had felt for so long. She wanted only to be his, and to love him day in and day out. She wanted to feel him next to her every waking moment, and be solely his girl. Everything she'd spent so long trying to speak in words, she had finally shown to him through her accedence. Her love for him far surpassed any doubt, worry, nervousness, troublesome or lonesomeness. She gave in to everything, with little concern, knowing how assuredly safe and loved she was in Jericho's arms.
Chris could only describe how amazing, relieved, renewed he felt, through his gentle touches and kisses. He knew that she was yearning for them, and that she needed them to feel whole and sanctified again. His mission was only to give Trish every reason to believe that he was real, his love was real, a justification to everything she had felt for him since she met him. He knew it was there, and he needed to give her that reassurance. God, how he loved her, how he loved how wonderfully soft and delicate and fragile her body was. He loved everything about her, all of it. He wanted to be the one man in her life, the one who kissed her fear and worry away, and who made her every breath worthwhile. The way he felt for this woman, the way he loved her, it was all defined for her in the feel of his lips on her.
Trish rolled her head back, and leaned up further into him, watching him recede. "Chris... I'm yours. I want... I want to be yours."
"I want what you want, Trishy... I wouldn't have it any other way. You... my one and only. Dear sweet Lord, I love you more with every breath." Chris could hardly believe everything that was happening... it couldn't possibly be reality. It seemed only like a dream. An amazing, miraculous dream. "Tell me you love me."
"You know I love you, sweetheart." Trish looked at him, her tender brown eyes filling with tears, the happiest of tears she'd ever been blessed to cry. "I can't believe I waited so long."
Chris kissed just above her eyes, and once more, tenderly, on her soft lips.
The two of them lay in a clutter, their bodies so perfectly fit for each other. They melted together, and for the first time in both their lives, knew exactly where the other stood, what their motives were, and just how much they truly, truly loved each other.
The only thing Chris had left to wait for was WrestleMania. He wouldn't let himself hold back. Christian, and the whole world, needed to know just what he'd do for the woman he loved. No one hurts Trish. No one belittles Trish. No one can do anything to his sweet baby anymore, and Christian will know this like an unwritten law come March 14th.
"God, baby.... You're perfect." Chris rolled himself over beside her, his arms never leaving their position, tightly wrapped around Trish's waist. They fell asleep together in each others' arms, with the distinct feel of their breaths lingering in the cool air above them.
Chapter 1
Chris charged down the hall after Christian, unsure of whether he was really in search of him, or Trish. He wanted so badly to be able to get his hands on Christian.
:That bastard. He wont even be able to make it to Mania if I find him. You'd better run you son of a bitch.:
Anger and fury raged through him. Something he had never felt toward another human being. It wasn't just anger, either. It was contempt rising to a boiling point, where at, could drive Chris to kill. But was he really at that stage with Christian? Or was it himself that he felt that passionate hate for? For being so blind, for letting his love for Trish hurt her. The deep, genuine affection he felt for her is what caused this.
Chris stopped sharply, promptly, dead in his tracks, before rounding a corner backstage. He could barely catch out of the corner of his eye, Christian rounding the next corner. And Chris was able to watch him escape without blaming and cursing him. Chris blamed himself. Only himself.
He put the car in drive and stomped furiously on the gas pedal, steering left and right down the crowded streets. Atlanta was packed to capacity, it seemed. RAW wasn't even over yet. Chris hadn't told anyone he was leaving, he just needed to get away.
"Damn you, Jericho. You have ruined her life in more ways than one. Just quit... just give it up."
He passed right through a red light, nearly smacking a passing car in their bumper.
"Shit."
Chris stormed down the streets. He hadn't been in Atlanta too often, but he knew where he was going. Two weeks was too damn long. She had been to the hospital three times to visit him while they were in Bakersfield, and had missed a house show to be with him.
He wouldn't let himself believe that she was there because she loved him. She was there because she was a good friend. Any good friend would want to make sure you're okay, right?
But she missed a house show for him, and she missed her lunch date with Lita the day after, and - !!
Chris slammed on the breaks. The cyclist he almost hit flashed him a finger and yelled some words that Chris couldn't hear through the windshield. His heart rate shot up further than it was already in this rush, and it took a few seconds before the shocked look on his face subsided.
"God, hold it together, Chris!" He took a deep breath and continued to drive, the thoughts circling through his head nearly sending him into convulsions.
There was nothing he could do. Simply nothing. Time and again he'd ran the words through, creating in his mind the perfect scenario, where even the slightest utterance would relieve her of any question, any doubt, and she'd know once and for all how right and true this would be.
He loved her so much it made him feel vulnerable to anything and everything around him. He loved her more than he could say. More even than the very essence of the word 'love' explained. Why else would he feel such devotion to her, and such a need to protect her? How could she possibly not see the unyielding, uncorrupt longing in his eyes every time they met with hers? How could she not plainly see that passion in those deep, icy pools? He made it so obvious to everyone. Maybe she wasn't seeing it because she didn't want to.
He could not stand the thought of her not returning his love like she had before; not ever again tasting her lips, or feeling her breath so warm on his cheek. Never taking her into his arms, and feeling, knowing, through her embrace that she would belong to him eternally.
It was the hardest thing that he ever had to learn how to do, to accept that what they had was not a relationship, and it would never become one. But for her sake and his both, he kept trying. He kept denying the feelings he had for her, kept resisting the desire and need to plunge his lips to hers every time their eyes met, and adoring her sweet body with his hands like he wanted so badly to do.
But he couldn't. He ruined everything he had with that bet. Any chance she may have thought of giving him. Any hope of once again feeling her soft caress, and the gentle twinge of her body when their bare skin met. How stupid could he be?
No, he wasn't stupid. That's just how he used to be back then. He was the kind of guy who would make bets, and jeopardize all respectability he had, and forget that there were other people in the world besides him. Trish Stratus changed that. She alone. Being with her, seeing the loving, friendly, warm look in her eye, and finding that someone could love him, trust him, put all of their fears behind them, and uniquely care for a man who never really cared for anyone else... that changed him.
He owed every bit of man that he is to her. Hell, he wouldn't be a man if it weren't for her. He would never know the true depth of the human heart had she not been there to show him.
And he wouldn't be driving himself crazy day in and day out, either.
He parked the car as close to the building as possible. Taking a deep breath, he opened the car door, and stepped outside, realizing he had never bothered to fasten his seatbelt. It was insane the things that this woman could do to him. Thoughts of her managed to overcome his common sense. Trish had a strange way of working him into oblivion.
Chapter 2
"How is it, Trish? Feel any better?" The hotel nurse questioned with a friendly, hopeful tone in her voice.
"It only hurts when I move it." Her ankle was propped up slightly, bandaged a bit, but in no real danger other than a slight pulsating pain when she'd move it suddenly. "It'll be okay. Thanks for all your help, really."
The nurse nodded and left the room, leaving an ice pack on Trish's side table, and a remote control to the T.V. near her bed.
Trish looked at the clock. 10:29. Well, she still had a half hour. She already missed her friends back at the arena. How she longed to get back inside that ring, to do what she loved with her closest companions, in the spotlight she was so used to. Injuries rarely kept her from doing her job, or at least being there. She missed them all so much. And she missed Chris.
There was no telling how much she needed him right now. She could feel him within her. It had just been too long since she'd seen him. She had never known how beastly Christian could be, how utterly disrespectful. She had decided to look past any possibility of him hurting her now... now that she and Chris were friends. Why would Christian do such a thing? How can anyone be so jealous, and so awful, especially when he had nearly earned her trust?
That nightmare didn't seem to matter as much now. She was safe from him inside her hotel room, though she was certainly not fond of being there. She reached her petite, small hand out and grabbed the remote. The reception on the television in the room was not too great, but she managed to find the channel.
Ah, commercials. At her most impatient, waiting moment, she had to delay for commercials. Trish reached her arm back out toward the table at her bedside, and grasped the ice pack, immediately chilling her fingers. Now that she thought about it... it was awfully cold in the hotel room, as well.
"I wish Chris..." she stopped herself. Her heart began beating a slight bit faster. Why? Why did every single thing she did, every action she made, in some way make her want Chris?
"No... you have been through this too many times, girl. No more. After what he did causes you this kind of pain," she said, eyeing her bruised, badly sprained ankle, "there will be no more endless pining for Chris Jericho. No."
What was she talking about? Chris did nothing wrong. She always found some way to blame the things that happened to her on him. He did one thing wrong that has forever endangered the chances of them having a decent relationship, and everything is suddenly his fault. When did it all become his problem? Christian was the one that did this.
Speaking of Christian, the commercials came to an end, and shown on RAW, live, was a "moments ago" frame, captioned by J.R. The man in center-stage was none other than Christian. Trish cringed just at the sight of his face. But what was he doing out there with all of the Highlight Reel setting around him? She went silent, thoughts and all, and directed her attention to the T.V. set.
"...if it's a highlight you people want, look no further than last week, when I clotheslined Trish Stratus' pretty little head right off her body."
Trish said nothing, just stared at the screen intensely, as if she'd hoped to burn a hole through Christian with her furious eyes.
"...and then I had her in the Walls of Jericho, and she was screaming in pain. But later that night, I took Trish back to my hotel room, and I had her screaming in pleasure."
Ignoring most of the comments he spoke after that, Trish sat up, a look of pure hatred and anger lingering in her eyes, and her mouth gaping the slightest bit, a glare forming that damn well might have caused the television set in front of her to short circuit. "You bastard... you low life dirty scum sucking bastard..." Trish almost wished she were there, injury or no, to tear Christian's big-mouthed face in two.
"Now, Jericho, I know you're sitting at home, watching TV, you've got your leg propped up, you're worried about your little girlfriend... I just want you to know, I did this for you. Trish Stratus ruined your life. Trish ruined our friendship. So I had to take matters into my own hands."
Trish could barely stay seated any longer. A mix of pain, frustration, liability, denial, fear, and hopelessness crossed over her features, all at the same time. She had never felt so much a living wreckage as she did hearing those words. She couldn't help but whisper to herself what she knew no one else could hear.
"Chris, no... don't believe him. I never meant to hurt you, no... no... honestly, I didn't. Chris..." As she continued to beg and plea to open air, Christian's words continued to pierce her.
"It's called tough love, Chris. And speaking of tough love, I spoke to Eric Bichoff, and he's put together a match."
As these words found their way to her through the speakers, she shook her head in disapproval and disbelief. She knew exactly what was coming, though she never expected her involvement with Chris to go so far.
"That match will be Christian, versus Chris Jericho, one-on-one, at WrestleMania."
"Oh dear God, no." A rush of hundreds of separate visions of past weeks came to Trish at once, cluttering her mind with absent thoughts of what she could have possibly created, and shielding her vision with a mass of tears, building up quickly. Chris can't fight... his knee... no...
"And Y2J, believe me, I'm gonna knock some damn sense into your head, and you will never, e-e-e-ever be the same again."
Not only had Christian managed to humiliate Jericho's existence, stealing his catchphrase, his entrance, his show, his finishing move... he had managed also to instill a mix of emotions within Trish that she had never felt before. She felt more guilt than anything else. Everything was her fault... everything. None of this would be happening if she hadn't gotten involved. How could she be so selfish, and how could she let something like this happen.
When the segment appeared to be over, and Trish felt compelled to turn her set off and resume emotionally degrading herself in fear and guilt, Chris Jericho appeared on the screen, gimping down the ramp toward the ring that Christian stood in. The crowd began to cheer, but Trish felt as though she was having a heart attack.
From then on, Trish could do nothing but stare, shocked, appalled, feeling feverish and almost as if she were going to die right then and there. Chris ran to the ring, bad knee and all, and began delivering an intense beating to the well-deserving Christian. But on whose behalf was this? Trish didn't mean for anything like this to happen. If anyone was to blame, it was her.
Christian escaped the ring, and Jericho threw the Highlight Reel furniture out of the ring, in his direction, screaming insults back at him. The scene was cut just then. Trish couldn't bare it. She turned the television off, and sat still for a prolonged few moments, in effort to gather herself.
Unable to find any strength within her, she gave in to the great pain in her stomach, and pounding of her head. She buried her face in her hands, and let out all of the tears she'd been keeping in so long. Her palms were eventually soaked, and her eyes felt like pumping blisters. Her whole room was nothing but the sound of a desperate, internally pained expulsion of tears and hopeless screams.
Chapter 3
It lasted a good five minutes before she could recollect why she was even crying. Oh god, she loved Chris more than anyone she'd ever known, and she'd let this happen to him. She didn't even see a thing like this coming. What was she supposed to do?
An inopportune knock, almost a pounding, came to her door, and before she could even respond, it burst open, and Trish felt arms wrapped around her body while she was still in bed.
"Trish, sweetie..."
She wiped the last film of waiting tears from her eyes, and looked to her side to find Chris, whom she, without second thought, lunged upward to, and hurled her arms forcefully around his neck.
She couldn't even find words. Any pain in her ankle from forcing herself upward was nothing compared to what she felt wrapped in his arms for the first time since they'd been dating. Chris ran his fingers through her long hair, and rocked her gently from side to side, blowing softly into her ear and harboring every last tear she needed to cry. Neither of them knew what this was for, and neither of them cared. Chris was happier than he'd ever been to just be holding her, comforting her, whether it would last or not, this was all he needed right now.
Trish closed her eyes so tightly, and buried her face deep into his shirt, crying pools onto his shoulder, and never letting her embrace go limp or lose strength. She felt like melting into him, becoming him. Not a single word that Christian spoke seemed to have an affect on either of them that moment.
But it did, more than either of them knew. Trish felt so utterly responsible for every amount of pain Chris had suffered in the past four months, and for every second he'd questioned himself for her. Chris, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to be able to meet Christian in the ring again, and show him and the world just what lengths he'd go to, to keep Trish Stratus safe, loved, in his arms. Whether she'd want to stay in his arms was another story. But right here, in this tight, constricting embrace, neither of them wasted a moment on silly words and cheap, confusing arguments.
They seemed to never want to part. If a reunion after two weeks was the cause of this, how would either of them be able to go another day without it?
Chris wanted to tell her right there. He wanted to give up his whole well constructed plan to protect Trish and himself by denying their feelings, and let every ounce of passion within him flow into Trish. He wanted to kiss her, and he wanted to touch her, and he wanted to make her feel everything he'd tried so hard to ignore. That would be more than enough to speak every emotion she'd made him feel, and every word he'd wanted so badly to whisper into her ear. But that was not what she needed right now.
Their bodies never left their conjoined position since he came into her room. Every bit of reason that either of them felt, telling them that this was not what was best, and this was not going to make their situation any easier, came second, while just holding each other was the most important thing. Trish's conscience told her that this was not going to heal her, it was not going to heal the wounds she'd left on Chris, and it was not going to change where they stood. She simply could not be in a relationship with this man after everything they'd been through, and certainly not now. She had caused so much pain to him, and cost him his best friend, and none of that could ever be taken back, even with the passion invoked in their tight, warm, tender hug.
Chris finally broke their deep embrace, to Trish's dismay, as she had found more comfort than ever in Chris those few minutes. They both had things that needed to be said. Trish held her eyes in place, tightly locked with his, and grasped all the courage she had left inside of her.
"I saw... I... saw what happened, Chris. I'm sorry. God knows I am so, so sorry... I r-... I ruined everyth-"
"Don't you dare say what I think you're going to. Trish... you have not ruined a damn thing. If anything, you've made it all better. You've made my life so much better."
"Don't lie to me, Christopher." Trish snapped, her eyes still never leaving his. "Lying to spare my feelings doesn't help anything."
"Denying the way someone feels for you because you're afraid of it doesn't help either."
His words were ironic, because he had always had problems accepting whether or not Trish's love was real. He always had a lingering doubt that she would never really return the love he so desperately wanted from her, and any signs of affection she showed recently were blurry in his eyes. But he liked to think if he told himself enough that it was real, it would be. Or he would at least be disillusioned enough to believe it.
Trish looked into Chris' eyes. His hand was rested on hers, and he was still stoking her hair softly. He certainly did not want to turn a soft, almost sensual moment, into a bunch of yelling and cursing and misunderstanding.
"Chris... I don't even want to talk about our relationship right now. I still don't know where we stand. J- just... I don't want you to face Christian."
"Relax, baby. I'm happy to go in there, with or without this knee still hurt. I'd do anything for you. You know I would. Anything."
Trish gave a heavy sigh. Her displeasure spread across her face, and she looked down toward her hand, lying in Jericho's. He curled his fingers so they intertwined with hers, and he raised both their hands and gently touched her cheek. She looked back up at him. For once, Chris could not read her expression. There were so many emotions mixed within her. This was all he knew.
"What's wrong, baby?" Chris brought his face closer to hers, and brushed his lips against her tear-moistened cheek. He knew how fragile she was, and he struggled not to upset her in any way, but being this close to her now, he was unable to hold back what he needed to say, what he needed to do.
"This isn't about me. This has nothing to do with me, other than that I'm the only reason you're going to have to risk your safety out there. You're injured, Chris. You could be hurt so easily, and if you are... that is going to be my fault. I do NOT want to see you get hurt, and I—"
"Trish... ever since I first got to know you, and got to know and love and appreciate the wonderful woman you are, it has been my pledge to myself to never allow you to be hurt. Everything I've done these past few months, putting my own safety on the line, it's all been for you. I know you don't want me to be hurt, but I couldn't care less whether or not I'm hurt if it's going to prevent you from being hurt."
"Chris..."
"You mean more to me than anyone, and I'll be damned if I allow Christian to get away with what he did to you. Nobody hurts my girl like that. Nobody hurts my Trishy like that. You are my everything. I don't care whether we're friends or..."
Trish switched her position on the bed. She grimaced when her ankle bent, and whimpered a bit, which immediately caused Jericho to grip her tightly and help make her comfortable. He stood up and tended to her swollen joint, placing pillows underneath, and cooling the ankle with the ice pack.
"No, it's fine... sit, please."
Chris looked at her, and nodded, resuming his position on the bed. Trish pulled herself into his lap, and leaned against him. He didn't expect that display, but he willingly accepted her, though extremely careful of how he acted.
"Just promise me it will be okay. I just don't need you to hurt yourself more over me. I don't deserve you doing this all the time."
He smiled, and gently rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Sweetheart, you don't have to worry. I'll be fine. And you... you, you deserve everything and more."
Chris had so much to say to her... so much more than he was able to squeeze out now. He was so worried that anything he might say to her would scare her away. It was impossible for him to be completely comfortable around her anymore. But he loved her. And they were great friends. Friends... that's all they'd ever be.
Chapter 4
Leaning back in his arms, resting her head on his chest, Trish felt an uncontrollable urge to let go all instinct and intuition she had about their relationship, and just give in to the remarkable, sensual man she lay in. She had put herself in these predicaments all too often. Time after time, she'd fall for a man and give herself to him completely, only to be betrayed and hurt time after time. The strange thing about Jericho was that she had never once felt that he would ever betray or hurt her until she found out about the bet. Damn that bet. And now she was wrapped in the arms of a man who bet his friend a dollar he could sleep with her before that friend could sleep with her best friend. Oh, this was so confusing. And so completely wrong.
She felt as though she was committing a crime, being there like this with him. The bet wasn't the big deal anymore... they had both managed to see past that childish ploy and become friends. In fact, Chris was probably Trish's best friend in the world right now.
Anyone who saw them in the open would swear they were dating. They act just the same now as they did then. Except for the uncomfortable aura between the two of them, and the loss of words during meaningless gazes. But they didn't feel meaningless. When she looked into those big, beautiful, crystal blue eyes of his, she could see everything inside him. If that gaze was meaningless, then she had every right to be defensive. But it certainly was not meaningless.
Every time she looked at him, she was more than able to see, through those eyes, all of the truths and all of the lies. When he said he loved her so long ago, that was the truest, most beautiful and comprehensive of all. She could see it, and there was no mistaking what she saw in those eyes.
Somehow, she simply could not allow herself to go back to him. To be with him that way. It wasn't going to happen. Friendship was the best thing for them, in every aspect of the word. They made better friends. At least with them being friends, Trish wouldn't get her heart broken again. She was so afraid of that.
If this whole distrust was based on fear, and this whole unwillingness to be "his girl" again was because she was afraid, then it was a bunch of shit. They both knew it. She melted every time she looked at him. When they kissed, it was with such a passion, and yet such beauty, in the most gentle and romantic of ways. How can she be afraid of that?
But what was stopping it from all being a lie again. What was to stop him from fooling her again, into believing that he did love her, when it was all just a bet.
Damn it, it was not all a bet. If their whole relationship had been a bet, why were they still where they are now? Why was she engulfed in his arms, melting into his body, dripping with his heat, feeling the electricity in his touch as his fingers tickled over her bare arms. Why was this silence so reassuring? There was never any such thing as uncomfortable silence between them. They could be next to each other, just listening to their breaths mingling in the air, and all at that moment would be right with the world.
She let a short, breathy moan escape, and she thought to herself, "I want you with me forever. Don't ever let me go... just don't let me go."
Or at least she could have sworn she had only thought it. But the way Chris touched her at that moment said she had let it slip. His soft but shaky palms and fingers loosened and slid upward to her shoulders, and back down to just below her throat, gently stroking up and down between her shoulders and her neck, while he lowered his head and planted one delicate kiss on her right shoulder.
Chapter 5
"Trish, darling...I came here to tell you something. Well... n-... no, I came here... to tell you everything."
She almost missed everything he said, because the tone of his voice blended so well with this wonderful silence. So calm, so gentle, and soft... but those words made her so nervous. Why couldn't they just sit in the silence, drowning in each other? Why couldn't they, as friends, just love one another, love the feel of one another, and never have to deal with these words. They'd never have to respond, and never have to worry about it. Maybe Trish was the only one worrying.
She took her sweet time replying. She wanted the calmness to last the whole night, and she wouldn't have to worry about anyone being hurt, or anyone sacrificing, or any confessions...
"...Is 'everything' really necessary?" She whispered, her eyes closed, and her head resting on his chest.
Chris slowly and gently nudged himself out of his position, and Trish followed suit, swinging her body around, being extremely careful about her ankle. She caught a glimpse of those exotic, whimsical, magical blue eyes, and was immediately hooked again, focused on just what he had to say.
"Yeah, it sort of is, baby. It's important."
In past weeks, Chris had made every attempt, it seemed, to get her alone and be able to talk to her without interruption. She had never paid much thought to what he could possibly be dying to tell her, but now she was more than ready to hear anything he had to say.
"What is it, Chris?"
"Well, I... I sorta... I haven't... haven't been the same the past few weeks. I've been f- fine and all, with us being friends... but are we going to actually be friends in all respects of the word?" He cleared his throat and continued, his tone now soft, and voice low and breathy. "Friends... don't normally lie in bed together feeling each others' breaths and gazing lovingly into each others' eyes."
Trish looked at him... ahh, 'gazing lovingly into each others' eyes.' That was all she ever wanted to do sometimes. She had been holding back her true feelings for him for weeks since she'd become his friend again. There was something inside her that conflicted with every bit of dignity and reason she had, and just wanted to take back all she said about being friends. To just leap into his arms, kiss him with such intensity and loyalty as she once used to. The kind of kiss that was exclusive to them, with such an amount of passion that she nearly collapsed to the floor every time their lips met. That was so long ago, and she needed to taste him again before the withdrawal tore her completely in two.
"I... I don't know... what I'm doing. You're right. I'm so sorry." She turned away from him. She would have stood up and walked away from him if she was able to move her ankle. He was right. Friends don't have that sort of contact... friends don't act this way around each other. If any sort of interaction between the two of them was going to work, it was going to have to be friendship.
"Trish, no, I'm... I'm not saying I don't.., like it... I just..." His words were not coming out right. They rarely ever did when he was barring his heart and soul to her. Chris impulsively reached his hand out and grabbed at her wrist.
But as soon as he made contact, it was just as quickly broken. Trish jolted her hand away from him, instantly breaking his heart and numbing his entire body to the point he nearly passed out. That one pure and simple reflex symbolized so much rejection to him. He had no idea how to react to her, he had no idea what she wanted. What was she looking for? Five minutes ago she was lying inside him, her body contoured with his, begging him to never let her go... and now she was so rough and defensive, backing away at his touch, and rejecting the obvious feelings that radiated from both of them through their heat and simple gestures.
Chris sat still for the longest time, waiting for her. Waiting, because it was all he could do. He leaned slightly to the side, trying to catch what ever expression she was conveying that she concealed from him, for what ever reason. She tucked her face between her palms, and let loose the tears that were burning her eyes.
She did not want to let him see her cry. The last thing he needed to see was that the pain of not having him in a real relationship still had that affect on her, and caused her so much hurt.
He so badly wanted just to kiss her pain away; to just hold her and caress her body in whatever way he could that would make her forget about that hopelessness and hurt that she felt. He would love to feel her soft lips on his once more, and to steal her breath while he was at it. But he respected her far too much to allow himself that kind of control over her. Trish was so fragile, in every way. Chris wasn't sure how much more she could stand, and whether or not she'd be able to cope. This was precisely why he hadn't told her the truth about his feelings in months. What would it do to the sweet woman he felt them for?
"Trish... would you like me to leave?" Chris was nearly ready to give up. Every attempt he made was a fruitless effort. He never got anywhere with her. More than anything, he didn't want to hurt her more. He'd spoken over and over how much it meant to him that Trish never get hurt, that he be able to protect her.
He certainly wouldn't stand in the way of her happiness. If he had to leave right now and never see her beautiful face again, he would do it. It would kill him, but she meant that much to him.
Trish turned her face toward him, stained with light streaks of tears trickling down both her cheeks. A mostly undefined smile spread across her lips, and she succumbed for a few waiting moments to him again. The look and feel of pure rejection, unwantedness, and unwillingness would not leave his face or his body, but he loved that smile in more ways than one, because it might be the last he'd ever see from her.
"Two weeks, Chrissy..." Trish started. She managed to pull herself up off of the bed, and utilizing every piece of furniture in the room, hobbled her way to the door. She pressed her hand on the knob, and turned, pulling it back toward her. Another couple of tears fell from her deep chocolate eyes, and she had to reach to the very core of her being to find the strength for her next words to actually leave her mouth.
"Don't you dare, Chris Jericho, even think about getting hurt out there."
Chris just stared at her for the longest time, expressionless. Pained so deeply that he could not even muster up the strength to show it. Trish couldn't even look back at him. Her eyes remained closed, and tears just poured down her face. He didn't have to question her, though. Whatever the reason for this, he accepted it fully as what he needed to do for her, and he said he'd do anything for her.
Trish knelt by the door, unable to support herself and the heavy heart she bore right then. Never had anything in the world been so difficult. This was all for him, all for Jericho. Trish could see in his face every single time her eyes brushed over him how much distress she caused him. She simply couldn't bare it anymore.
There were some things between them better shut out forever instead of being retraced. Some things were too painful. Those things, those feelings would never leave her, especially not after tonight. She had never before made herself sick enough with love, betrayal, fear, pain, lust, devotion, any of the millions of emotions he had brought out in her, that she would spend continuous nights knelt over a toilet, unable to retain any of her food for so long.
This thing with Christian was the absolute last she could take. The final move was to let Chris go. Let him go from her life forever. Force him out even, because it was the best thing for him. Not at all what she wanted, but she couldn't be selfish when every physical and emotional fiber within him was at stake. She had cost him so much already. Nothing could fix this. Nothing could repair her, her broken heart, worn down body, the murderous guilt she felt. Nothing at all could fix the suffering she had caused Chris. She had made him long for her too much, while he had no idea what it was he was really longing for. A girl who could be the sole reason for every bit of insecurity, anger, rage, depression, anything that he felt that she could see had obviously been killing him all along. She didn't want to be responsible for this any longer. She couldn't go on living knowing that she had done this to him, and continued to let it happen. She wouldn't let it go on. One way or another, she would let him go. Stop selfishly clutching on to him and tearing him away from every chance he had at happiness. Stop that look in his eyes that she never wanted to see again... that look of loss. He had lost everything. Not just Trish, not just his best friend, Christian, but also himself, and everything that came with him. It was gone now because Trish Stratus tore at every bit of him until it was all separate from the rest. Never again would she allow herself even a days worth of holding on, hoping for it to all magically heal, while in reality, all it was doing was destroying.
Chapter 6
Chris stood up, and at that instance his whole body was weaker than it had ever been before. He had to use every ounce of energy he had just to take a single step forward. Every step he took toward that door was pure torture. It was worse than the torture he caused himself day after day trying to find the courage to tell Trish how he felt. It was worse than looking her in the eye and forcing back the words he practiced at night to protect her. It was worse than pretending he could only be her friend. It was worse than being with her in bed to comfort her and hold her, knowing that it would never become more to her than a friendly act of concern. It was worse "breaking up" the second time.
Having to watch her collapse onto the floor in tears next to the door and not being able to do a damn thing about it pierced his heart like nothing ever could. He felt like he'd been struck with lightning; being alive and knowing there was nothing to stop it was far worse than dying from it.
He couldn't watch her any longer. All of the pain he had been feeling for four months couldn't possibly amount to whatever she was feeling in that instance. He didn't know what, or why, but it was far worse than what he had learned to endure.
He still couldn't question her. There was nothing to be done. He took one more step toward that door and felt his heart snap in two and his stomach rise so high in his chest he could swear it was coming up his throat and he was choking to death on it.
In one sudden burst of strength, probably the very last he'd have before he could make it to the hotel lobby, he made his way to her. He took her head into both his palms and lifted it from her hands. She still could not look at him, and there was nothing that could possibly stop those tears from streaming endlessly down her gorgeous face. Chris dabbed her cheeks with his thumb pads, trying to wipe the moisture from below her eyes. In one swift motion he bent down, pressed his lips to her forehead, and wrapped his arms more tightly around her body than he ever had before. Any tighter, and he could have crushed her lungs. He felt no compliance on her part, but that was perfectly okay for him, because he didn't need that to make him happy. He had her in his arms for one last time, and even if she didn't return that act of love, forever solidifying his true passion and devotion to her, he still had that last memory of her body against his own, which was more than enough to justify his everlasting love.
He let go of her body, and left the room, walking like a zombie toward the elevator. Nothing from then on would be the same for him. He wouldn't be able to make it to work anymore knowing she'd be there, and there was a chance he'd run into her at some point. How in the hell would he be able to deal with that? He wouldn't be able to answer the phone for hope, or fear, that he'd hear her voice on the other end. He wouldn't be able to live. Who was he kidding? Embracing her those few short seconds was a basic acceptance to the proposition that he was no longer going to be part of her life, and that alone would be the death of him.
He approached the elevator, pushed the down arrow, and waited for the doors to open to him. The slight increasing hum of the machine drew closer, until finally the doors drew back and he stepped inside. The clear round button marked '1' lit up as his finger touched it, but as the doors slowly began to shut, he stepped right back out into the second floor hallway.
He froze in position, breathing a slight bit heavier than would be considered normal. His mouth was just the tiniest bit agape, and every breath that drew outward, he could hear with clear distinction. At least he was still breathing. That meant he was alive. He turned his head to the right, staring down the empty hallway. After a moment of thoughtless onlooking, feeling possessed by something inside him, Chris took a single step in that direction. From that point on, he had no control whatsoever to any of his actions.
Chapter 7
Trish sat on the end of her bed, still as hopelessly crying and aching as before. Her eyes were finally open, staring blankly through her tears, through the door she had left open, into an empty, desolate, silent hall. For once her mind was completely empty. She felt bare, as she had been so used to an endless flash feature of thoughts and images speeding through her head. It felt so unusual, and only caused her to cry harder, forcing her eyes shut at the sting of the profuse saline liquid.
He stood at the open entranceway of her room, staring. Not once blinking since his eyes met her frame again. If this was what he had to do to, see her crying in order to be able to see her at all, he sure as hell wouldn't let anything get in the way of him doing that. His body was so sore and numb, he wasn't sure what was keeping him standing. Nothing, not a single word she said, not a single action she made at him could change this now. He loved her, yes. He respected her, yes. But if leaving her forever because it's what she wanted was what he had to do for love, he wasn't willing. He'd be forced to lie himself into oblivion every day of his life. He'd be forced to look away whenever she came near, which was something that not even with the most heightened sense of ability, would he be able to con himself into doing. His very existence was her. If she needed him to leave to be happy, or safe, or whatever it was she wanted, she would just have to meet those needs some other way, because Chris Jericho would never be able to tear that piece of his life away even If he wanted to. Even if he tried to. So he just wasn't going to try.
She lowered her hands from her face again, after pushing aside all of the tears that attached themselves to her lower eyelid, before they were able to fall. She blinked once, and once again, and the moment she made eye contact with him...
"Trish Stratus, I love you. Too much to leave, even if you beg me to."
Her lips were suddenly engulfed by the warm, moist, soft flesh that she had been dying to feel for so, so very long. Chris' lips were so familiar, so physically essential to her. Her eyes were sent shooting open at the electricity in his touch, the shock of her mouth being once again adored by this man. And then she slowly closed them, subsiding to him.
He held her so tenderly, his gentle hands sliding up and down the length of her sides, his strong, firm body only inches from her. His kiss was so inviting, and so alluring, and so- oh God...
She felt his lips slowly part, and hers followed, an involuntary movement. He intensified the kiss, treating her to the utmost passion, which he had longingly desired to show her every time he saw her. He adored her. There was no question. The fiery passion in his kiss was obvious, but she could feel in it every bit just as much affection, and pure love. His kiss was the most true and breathtaking she had ever felt, and the only pair of lips she'd ever want to be on hers again.
He slowly edged forward, gently lowering her back to the bed. His arms were wrapped around her, gliding up and down, his fingers swaying lightly over her spine.
Trish folded her arms around Chris's back, clutching onto his shoulders, pulling him into her. Her nails dug the very slightest bit into his flesh, only driving him to push himself closer to her. He so cautiously pushed her further toward the center of the bed, climbing over her, worshiping her in any way he could.
His tongue flicked gently against hers, and coiled back into his mouth, repeating the pattern. She returned every second of the passion he delivered, offering her tongue as well, teasing him in the sweetest way imaginable. He only broke the kiss to gasp for air, and the second he felt his lungs fill, his mouth was hers again. A rush of emotions circled over Trish, but none so much as utter bliss. She needed this from him, in every way. She needed to be his. She needed to feel him, to feel his body, to have his hands on her. Not in a perverse way, but in the most loving, genuinely devoted way possible.
He loved her, and she too loved him, and she would do anything to prove that. Anything to show him that she no longer wanted to pull away, defensive or self-conscious. She just wanted to be his, whether it was right or wrong, or whether it would hurt, or leave all of their questions unanswered in history. She wanted to be with him, and to be his Trishy again.
She opened her mouth to accept him, not holding back in the least. So many temptations had arisen while she was with him, every physical need was being fulfilled right now. Everything she had been missing from him, and from his "friendship". There could be no more waiting, no more wishing, no more worries. Her worries nearly destroyed everything they had. She let him have his way with her, in order to prove that it was real, that she could give herself to him without that nervousness forcing her into retreat.
His hands just dangled underneath her, holding her back, holding her tightly to his body. Their breaths were so conscious together as they mingled inside their mouths, and when the intense, moist kiss broke, their breaths, heavy and overdue, swarmed between them.
Their eyes both opened, lost in each others' gaze, their lips barely grazing, their bodies tightly cemented together, as if nothing could ever tear them apart again, and their warmth shared in the chilled atmosphere of the hotel room, they were all bits of the attachment that both Chris and Trish yearned so badly for. Both of them denied needing this kind of contact, but it was so true how lost they were without the feel of each others skin on their own, and the taste of their lips and tongues that drove them both wild. This night itself was long overdue. If neither of them could say in words what they were feeling, they would show each other, make each other see how much they loved, needed, pined for, desired that touch, that kiss.
Breathing hard and desperately into him, and never once breaking her eye contact with him by even blinking, Trish submitted herself to him.
"Christopher... my sweet Chris... I am so... s- so wrong. I..." she had to catch her breath. "I love you... I love you... never have I loved anyone the way I love you. I have never felt like this before."
"Shh... Trish, baby, just let me belong to you, and all of my dreams will have come true in one word."
She closed her eyes for a prolonged few seconds, her breathing still as heavy a before. When she opened them, the slightest, most delicate whisper Chris had ever heard from her came in a dreamy sigh. "Yes... forever..."
Chris had never smiled so wide in his life. He rested his forehead on hers, and stared lovingly into her eyes, breathing as softly as he could onto her. His hands slid downward, and traced the lining of the bottom of her shirt, his fingers gently digging up under the fabric, and tracing along her bare skin while his mouth found hers again.
The two of them lay there for hours it seemed, breathing sweet utterances into each other, sharing their body heat, embracing their flesh. Chris's lips gently trailed down her cheek, finding his way to her cheekbone, and planting short kisses along her neck, while she lunged her head back, granting him space to just devour her.
Her hands swept through his straggly blond hair, pushing his face further toward her bare skin. She breathed in deeply, just loving the scent of him, and the cool air, which she could barely feel as long as his skin was touching her.
In the most delicate, sincere, and considerate moments of affection she had ever been surrendered to, Chris Jericho, the love of her life, managed to remove any and all doubt or insecurity she had felt for so long. She wanted only to be his, and to love him day in and day out. She wanted to feel him next to her every waking moment, and be solely his girl. Everything she'd spent so long trying to speak in words, she had finally shown to him through her accedence. Her love for him far surpassed any doubt, worry, nervousness, troublesome or lonesomeness. She gave in to everything, with little concern, knowing how assuredly safe and loved she was in Jericho's arms.
Chris could only describe how amazing, relieved, renewed he felt, through his gentle touches and kisses. He knew that she was yearning for them, and that she needed them to feel whole and sanctified again. His mission was only to give Trish every reason to believe that he was real, his love was real, a justification to everything she had felt for him since she met him. He knew it was there, and he needed to give her that reassurance. God, how he loved her, how he loved how wonderfully soft and delicate and fragile her body was. He loved everything about her, all of it. He wanted to be the one man in her life, the one who kissed her fear and worry away, and who made her every breath worthwhile. The way he felt for this woman, the way he loved her, it was all defined for her in the feel of his lips on her.
Trish rolled her head back, and leaned up further into him, watching him recede. "Chris... I'm yours. I want... I want to be yours."
"I want what you want, Trishy... I wouldn't have it any other way. You... my one and only. Dear sweet Lord, I love you more with every breath." Chris could hardly believe everything that was happening... it couldn't possibly be reality. It seemed only like a dream. An amazing, miraculous dream. "Tell me you love me."
"You know I love you, sweetheart." Trish looked at him, her tender brown eyes filling with tears, the happiest of tears she'd ever been blessed to cry. "I can't believe I waited so long."
Chris kissed just above her eyes, and once more, tenderly, on her soft lips.
The two of them lay in a clutter, their bodies so perfectly fit for each other. They melted together, and for the first time in both their lives, knew exactly where the other stood, what their motives were, and just how much they truly, truly loved each other.
The only thing Chris had left to wait for was WrestleMania. He wouldn't let himself hold back. Christian, and the whole world, needed to know just what he'd do for the woman he loved. No one hurts Trish. No one belittles Trish. No one can do anything to his sweet baby anymore, and Christian will know this like an unwritten law come March 14th.
"God, baby.... You're perfect." Chris rolled himself over beside her, his arms never leaving their position, tightly wrapped around Trish's waist. They fell asleep together in each others' arms, with the distinct feel of their breaths lingering in the cool air above them.