A/N: This is an idea that popped into my head whilst I was watching something on t.v. I don't know how much further I'm going to take it, I just wanted to see how it would go. So, let me know if you want me to continue.
Even angels have their wicked schemes,
And you take that to new extremes,
But you'll always be my hero,
Even though you've lost your mind.
"Liz!…Lizzie! Hey!"
"What?" Liz appeared at the top of the stairs, wrapping in a pale blue towel. Her dark hair was wet and dripping down her shoulders. She was looking down at her husband curiously. He grinned and bounded up the stairs, sweeping her into his arms. She squealed and giggled, "John! You're getting soaked!" She protested as he pressed his nose into the crook of her neck. He hugged her close and peppered kisses all over her face, as she laughed and tried to fight him off. "Would you quit it!" She whacked him playfully and he let up a little, resting his hands on her waist as he captured her mouth in a breathtaking kiss. She sighed softly against his mouth and he felt like he might burst as he held her in his arms. He was the luckiest man alive, "I'm going to the store, do you want anything?"
Liz stared at him for a moment, before laughing, "You got me out of the shower for that?" John shrugged, grinning at her again and she thought for a moment, before smiling, "Could you get me some ice cream? Your son is craving it." She ran her hands fondly over the roundness of her belly and John immediately dropped to his knees and pressed his cheek against the soft protrusion, "My boy wants ice cream, huh? Don't worry, Champ. Daddy'll get it for you. You look after Mommy whilst I'm gone."
Liz looked down at him, resting her small hand on the top of his head lightly, the other braced against her side. She smiled affectionately and watched as he kissed her bump through the towel and then rose to his feet, kissing her again. "I wont be long."
"Don't be." She whispered softly and then let him go. He stopped and looked up at her again as he reached the bottom of the stairs, "I love you."
Liz grinned and nodded, "I love you too, baby. Now, go. Mommy needs ice cream." John saluted and then grabbed his keys before jogging out of the front door. Liz smiled to herself and gently rubbed her stomach, humming softly as she headed back to the bathroom to finish her shower.
John rushed through the store, keeping his baseball cap fairly low so as not to attract too much attention. He grabbed the things he needed, then stood in front of the freezer and stared at the different types of ice cream. There were so many! He knew what Liz liked, but her tastes had changed a lot since she'd gotten pregnant and he wasn't sure if she'd want chocolate or fruit. Maybe toffee. Or maybe all three. He thought about it for several long minutes, before he opened the door and grabbed an armful of different flavours. She had to like at least one of them and he could eat the rest. He grinned to himself as he took his bounty to the register.
The lad serving him recognised him almost instantly and John happily chatted to him for as long as he felt he could spare and signed his hat before giving it to him. He paid and left, feeling like he was walking on clouds. He threw his load into the back seat of his cat and hopped behind the wheel. He flicked on the stereo and as he turned to back out of the parking lot, his eyes caught the car seat which he had already fitted into the car. A new grin spread over his face. He could hardly wait for the baby to be born. He looked away from it and set his mind to driving home.
It was only ten minutes along the freeway and John was singing along to the stereo as he drove. He paid little attention to the speedometer, knowing he was going a little too fast, but he just wanted to get home to his beautiful wife. He didn't see the semi in front of him hit a patch of ice. He didn't see it jack-knife across the lane until it was too late. He didn't have time to register what was happening before his fragile car suffering the high speed impact with the side of the truck.
"LIZ!"
John sighed as he sat on the swing in the back yard. It was sunny, but cold. His eyes were fixed on the house. He could see Liz. She was in the kitchen with her parents. She looked beautiful. She was dressed in purple, bright purple. His purple. The dress was stunning. It fitted her perfectly, gently caressing the roundness of her stomach, falling down to her knees elegantly. Her legs were encased in black tights and her feet were slipped into a pair of sensible black ballet slippers. Her hair was pinned back carefully and within it was pinned a small flourish of purple and black feathers.
John rose to his feet. The swing didn't move. He walked slowly towards the house and stood at the window looking in. His heart hurt. He lifted a hand to press against the glass, watching as his fingers left small imprints on the clear surface. At that moment Liz turned in his direction. She looked right at him. She looked at his hand and frowned. She approached the window and lifted her own hand, pressing it gently into the marks on the glass, shaping her hand against his.
Her mother approached her and placed her hands on her shoulders. Liz's face crumpled and her beautiful eyes closed in despair. She seemed to curl in on herself as small, crystalline tears fell down her cheeks and coated her long eyelashes. John immediately walked into the kitchen through the open door and stood beside her. He made no move to touch her. "Don't cry, baby. Please, don't cry. I'm right here."
Liz's sobs penetrated his heart and he felt like he was dying. Again. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he already knew that he couldn't. He couldn't be close to her. Not physically, but he would never leave her. His heart split into a thousand pieces as he watched Liz being engulfed in the embraces of her parents. She shattered before his eyes and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't do a damn thing.
He was so angry, so destroyed. He'd caused this pain. He'd hurt her like this and he couldn't help. He couldn't even touch her without her shuddering. He couldn't talk to her or tell her how much he loved her. How sorry he was that he'd had to leave her. He hadn't wanted to. He'd tried so hard not to.
It had hurt so much. He could remember the pain as if he could still feel it. He knew he was dying. Somehow, he'd just known and his only thought had been her. Only ever her. There was no-one and nothing else. She was everything. She was air and light and warmth. He couldn't leave her. He couldn't let her down like that.
It had taken him a while to figure out what had happened. He'd been so confused. He'd run to her in the hospital, tried to take her in his arms, but she had turned from him. Turned to the doctor. He'd listened as the man explained to her what had happened. He'd watched her collapse on the floor and tried to speak to her. He'd screamed and screamed, begging her to hear him. He had needed her to understand that they were wrong. He was alive. He was right there next to her, just like he'd always promised he would be.
She hadn't heard him. It was then that he'd known. He knew what he was now and he had fought against it. He couldn't be dead. He had too much to live for. He had a child on the way. He had the most beautiful wife in the world. Yet, here he was.
He watched now as Liz's parents led her away from the window and out of the front door. He ran to catch up to them. He watched as they entered the black limousine that was parked outside of the house, then his eyes flashed to the hearse. He stared at the huge bouquet of flowers, resting beside the pine coffin which read; The Champ is Here. He felt his dead heart contract.
He listened to various people talking about him, about his life and it occurred to him that he had been an exceptionally lucky man, to have been surrounded by the wonderful people that had inhabited his world. He looked around at his friends, family and colleagues and felt proud. His eyes strayed often to Liz. She sat in the front, surrounded by those who loved her. It was wrong, though. Wrong that she should be here at all.
John stood and walked slowly along the church aisle, growing closer and closer to his own coffin. No-one looked up, no-one saw him. They kept their heads bowed in prayer as he walked. He stared at the silver plaque on the casket which bore his name and felt a wave of sickness pass over him. He couldn't comprehend that his body was in there, his physical form. The form of him that had loved Liz so completely that it had fought it's hardest not to die. Not to leave her.
He didn't know what to do now. He didn't know how to proceed. He knew that he wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to have gone somewhere else. He didn't know where, though. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to be where Liz was, even if she couldn't see or hear him. He wanted to be close to her, to watch over her. But, what could he do? He couldn't protect her. He had no more substance than a thought, an idea. He was nothing but a memory. The lingering spirit of ashes.
"John, was one of the kindest people that I knew. He gave his whole heart to everything he did. He lived and breathed for his wife, Liz and I know how excited he was about having a son. To work with, he was the best. He went out there every night and did everything he could to give the fans the best show they had ever seen. He never gave less than all he had.
As a friend, there was none better. He was someone that you knew would be there to lift you up. He'd make you smile or he'd give you the greatest advice. John Cena was one of my best friends and there are no words to express how much I am going to miss him." Randy Orton's voice cracked a little as he finished speaking and moved away to return to his seat after passing Liz and giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
John watched Randy with a frown. He'd never seen him cry, never seen him upset. Come to think of it, he'd never seen most of the people here cry. Most of them were wrestlers, naturally. He was moved by their opinions of him, by the love which he had been privileged enough to receive from so many good people and he wished he had taken the time to tell them that more often. It was just so sudden. So unexpected. This wasn't supposed to happen to him. There was still so much left that he had to do.
He looked at Liz and saw that she had her hands covering her face, sobbing quietly. He moved to crouch beside her, reaching up as if to brushed her hair back, but he stopped, knowing he couldn't touch her. He sighed and spoke to her quietly, "It's alright, baby. I'm here. I'll never leave you. I promise." He lowered his eyes to the floor. He'd already broken that promise. He wasn't there. Not really. If he was then none of this would have been happening.
The funeral went much faster than he had imagined it would, but he was grateful for it. Back at the house people were crowding around Liz, giving her their condolences and John could see that she just wanted to get away from them. He kept his distance, just watching. He saw her talking to her mother, her face once more tight with despair and suddenly her voice grew loud of all the others, "He was just going to the store! He was going to get ice cream, he was meant to be back in ten minutes!" She ripped the feathery pin from her hair and threw it in a futile fit of anger and then raced away from the crowds and up the stairs. John followed, moving silently.
He entered their bedroom to find her lying on her side, one arm wrapped around her rounded stomach, the other curled into the front of her hair. Her tears wracked her body, causing her to tremble. John walked forwards and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked down at her and wished he had the ability to cry. He would never have stopped if he'd been able to.
"Why did you go? Why aren't you still here?" Liz whimpered and for a moment John thought that she had noticed him sat there, before he realised that her eyes were on the photograph beside the bed. Their wedding day. He sighed and looked at her again, "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I tried."
"You should be here! How am I supposed to raise our son alone?" The tears streamed unchecked down her face and she buried it into the blankets.
"I'm so sorry, Lizzie." John whispered. He wished that she could hear him, just one more time so that he could tell her how much he loved her and how sorry he was. He wished he could hold her in his arms and feel the warmth of her, the gentle curves of her body and the roundness of her stomach, filled with their child. Their son.
How had it ended up like this? How had she been left alone to deal with this? He should be there. He should be able to comfort her, hold her hand. They should have been picking names and painting the nursery right now, not separated by an impossible wall between life and death. His Liz. His beautiful Liz. Why should she have to suffer this? Why should either of them?