Teardrops
(1/1)
Written by:Jen
E-mail:hopefalls2003@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Trish Stratus, Chris Jericho, etc
Category:Angst
Summary: Chris tries to help Trish deal with her sorrow Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and am affiliated in no way
with the WWE.
Distribution:Ask first
-----------------------------
Darkness was all that her brown eyes unveiled, clouded with pain. Envisioning anything remotely positive at the moment wasn't an option. Darkness, pain, anger, anguish... these were the only emotions that were real to her. The only emotions that she could see, feel... black...
Suddenly, her thoughts were yanked from the safe confines of her basement. She was interrupted. The annoyingly constant ringing of the phone broke her thoughts away. Her pained expression didn't change, though, and she didn't look away from the canvas before her. The black expressing the feeling that had been dwelling upon her heart, the mixture of reds and blues conveying her world of hurt and confusion.
With a heavy sigh her finger impaled upon the mailbox button of her answering machine, already knowing the sender of the message. He had been trying to get a hold of her for the last week. And she had been avoiding him at all costs.
"Trish..." The masculine voice began, booming from the small speaker of her answering machine. The man slowly emitted a sigh. "Look, sweetie... I know that you're there, that you've *been* there. "The voice of her best friend, Chris Irvine paused for a short moment before continuing. "I see your car there. You can't hide from your pain for forever, Trish. At some point you're going to have to deal with it. And when you are ready, I'll be here." With that, Chris hung up and Trish felt her eyes close, exhaling as she set her paintbrush down, and dropped her face into her hands.
"Like he knows anything..." Trish muttered quietly, sniffling to herself. She decided that she was done with her painting for the day, done with doing anything. She rose from her seat and trudged up the stairs. She just wanted to curl up in her bed, close her eyes, and never wake up again.
*********
"I can't, Trish." Shane sighed softly as he ran a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes landing on the blonde that sat across from him in his office. "I can't give you another three months off. We've already lost three divas to injury, one of those being one of our star divas. We need you, Trish."
Trish stared at Shane blankly from where she sat before shaking her head silently. "Fine, whatever." She muttered, lowering her head, allowing her eyes to land on her fingers that were picking uncomfortably at her sweat pants.
"Trish, I don't mean to put you in a bad position..." Shane began, his forehead creasing as he studied her demeanor.
"It's nothing Shane. It's nothing, just have to do my job. I get it, okay?" She snapped, her eyes flashing to his as she rose to her feet.
"Maybe..." Shane began, his eyes locking on her form before he spoke in a soft and sincere voice. "Maybe it's just time that you deal with this, Trish. Maybe it's *time*."
With that, Trish shot an angry glare in his direction, rushing out of the office and muttering obscenities under her breath. He was doing this just to trap her, to force her back into the company that she wanted so badly to do nothing with.
And damn him for judging her, for trying to make her deal with what had happened. She would deal with it, and she would deal with it in her time. Nobody but her would have any say in how and when she would deal with his death...
With his death, God... Trish wiped roughly at the tears that had made their way, unwanted, down her cheeks as she had wrapped her arms around herself, hurrying down the hallway at the WWE Headquarters.
She pressed the button, waiting impatiently for the elevator to take her down and out of the building. She stepped on the elevator a few minutes later, her arms crossed over her chest as she stood in the farthest corner back, sniffling quietly as the elevator slowly descended. Trish frowned, unhappy when the elevator stopped at the eighth floor.
Her frown visibly deepened when Chris Irvine stepped onto the elevator. Why the hell was he here? She turned to step back off of the elevator, but Chris grabbed her by the arm to keep her there before pressing the 'close door' button. "What do you want?" She muttered quietly, her forehead creasing at the man who stood beside her.
"I want to talk to you. That's all. You've been avoiding me for months, Trish!"
"So what?"
"So *what*? You're my *best* friend, Trish! I know you're hurting and you refuse to see that. You refuse to deal with your pain, and at some point you're just going to explode." Chris told her, motioning with his hand adamantly.
"And you're just waiting for that moment, aren't you Chris? To be my hero? To rescue the damsel in distress?" She shot quietly, the hostility that she was feeling coating each word that was escaping her pouting lips.
"I don't want to be your hero, Trish. I want to be your friend. Why won't you let me do that? Why won't you let me be your friend?" Chris asked her, this time his voice taking on a more soft quality, his eyes exuding the hurt that he was feeling... the hurt he was feeling because she was in pain, and because she wouldn't allow him to help her through this.
"Because I don't *need* a friend, Irvine! I don't." Trish told him, tapping her foot impatiently until it reached the ground floor, moving to step off of the elevator and frowning when he pressed the close door button and the door closed again. He pressed the button to the top floor, knowing that it would at least buy him a little bit more of her time. Maybe he could talk some sense into her.
"You do need a friend, Trish. You can lie to me, to yourself all you want... but I know you Trish, and there hasn't been one time when you haven't come to me about something. And now you're trying to convince me that all of a sudden you don't need me?" Chris shook his head, his eyes locked on hers, seeing the tears that had been building there for a while now. "It's bullshit, plain and simple!"
"I *don't* need you!" Trish screamed loudly, the tears brimming over as her eyes locked intensely on his, her hands shaking as she yelled at him. "I don't need you! I don't need anyone! I don't need anyone but the one person that I can't have!" The small blonde Canadian gasped for air, her eyes wide as she continued. "Do you even know what it's like? Do you know what it's like to roll over in bed every morning, expecting him to be there... and when you reach over, you feel nothing but a cold sheet? Do you know what it's like to... to make breakfast in the morning, and realize only after the fact that you've made breakfast for two because you're still waiting for him to walk through that door? Do you know what it's like?!" She screamed loudly, her small body shaking uncontrollably now, as her tears began to fall in rapid succession down her cheeks.
"Trishie..." Chris whispered quietly, sad blue eyes locking on her disheveled form before quietly taking her in his arms, placing a tender kiss on the top of her head. He held her securely in her arms, for the first time in months. For the first time in months she was allowing some of her pain to seep out with her tears, Chris absorbing all that she would give him.
She'd kept all of her pain and anguish, all of her feelings about his death silent for months now. And deep down, Chris knew that wasn't good for her. That internalizing her pain and fears was unhealthy. He knew she needed to let go. And that's why he had talked to Shane.
"Chris, I miss him so much..." Trish whispered sadly, sniffling loudly as she buried her face deeper into his muscled chest, searching for something... searching for comfort, her arms wrapped tighter around him, as though she was afraid of falling away, of disappearing. "I just wish that he could hold me one last time, tell me that he loved me one last time... it's all I think about. And it hurts so bad, because I can almost feel him holding me. I can all but hear his voice, and then I remember that he's gone. And it's like someone ripping my heart out of my chest, socking me in the gut.
"And I know this isn't right, that this isn't normal." Her eyes lifted to his, tears still falling down her cheeks as she spoke, her voice hoarse from her crying. "But sometimes I can't help but wish that he'd lived and I'd died."
"No, no..." Chris shook his head slowly as he held her securely to him with one arm, his other hand resting against the hair at the back of her head, simply rubbing it soothing her; holding her, consoling her. "Don't you ever wish that you'd died. He would've never wanted you to die, honey. He died, he risked his life knowing that it would save yours." He whispered, mentally flashing back to what had happened on that day only three months ago.
*********
"Put me down!" Trish giggled loudly, her hand reaching down and slapping her significant other's ass softly, shaking her head from side to side.
He grinned slowly at her request, and at the feeling of her hand on his buttocks. "Hmmm... put you down? Here?" The large man seemed as though he was considering it before shaking his head in the negative. "Nah, not yet."
"Please?" She begged, her hair bobbing with each step that he took down the nearly deserted country road. "I'll be good girl, baby." She grinned, waiting for his response.
"So if I put you down you'll be a good girl?"
"Exactly." Trish nodded emphatically at his question.
"Well I prefer my women bad, so I'll just keep carrying you for a while. Enjoy the rest your legs are getting. I'm a gentleman for sweeping you off your feet."
"And sweep me off of my feet you did." Trish giggled more, smiling when he set her down. She planted her feet on the ground, smiling gleefully in his direction. He made her so happy. He was her soul mate.
She took several steps backwards further into the road that had been quiet most of the day. "You know, baby... I can't wait until we're married with ba—"
"TRISH!" He yelled loudly, his eyes widening instantly with horror. There was a car only yards from her, driving far above the speed limit. Moving instinctively, following his heart, he dove in front of the car, pushing Trish to safety.
Trish hit her head on a rock, earning herself a concussion. But not before hearing the high-impact thud that had ended her lover's life.
*********
"He wanted you to live, Trish. His wish would've been for you to live your life, for you to continue on and be happy. You don't want to take that away from him, do you?" Chris asked gently, his eyes never leaving her.
Trish took a small step back, her eyes closing before she leaned her head backwards as if looking heavenward. As though she could look into the eyes of her lost love. "I'll live for you..." She whispered in a soft tone, her hand clutching the locket that dangled over her chest. And she would; she'd live the rest of her life for him, for the man who had insurmountably changed her life for the better. She would live for Charlie Haas.
(1/1)
Written by:Jen
E-mail:hopefalls2003@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Trish Stratus, Chris Jericho, etc
Category:Angst
Summary: Chris tries to help Trish deal with her sorrow Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and am affiliated in no way
with the WWE.
Distribution:Ask first
-----------------------------
Darkness was all that her brown eyes unveiled, clouded with pain. Envisioning anything remotely positive at the moment wasn't an option. Darkness, pain, anger, anguish... these were the only emotions that were real to her. The only emotions that she could see, feel... black...
Suddenly, her thoughts were yanked from the safe confines of her basement. She was interrupted. The annoyingly constant ringing of the phone broke her thoughts away. Her pained expression didn't change, though, and she didn't look away from the canvas before her. The black expressing the feeling that had been dwelling upon her heart, the mixture of reds and blues conveying her world of hurt and confusion.
With a heavy sigh her finger impaled upon the mailbox button of her answering machine, already knowing the sender of the message. He had been trying to get a hold of her for the last week. And she had been avoiding him at all costs.
"Trish..." The masculine voice began, booming from the small speaker of her answering machine. The man slowly emitted a sigh. "Look, sweetie... I know that you're there, that you've *been* there. "The voice of her best friend, Chris Irvine paused for a short moment before continuing. "I see your car there. You can't hide from your pain for forever, Trish. At some point you're going to have to deal with it. And when you are ready, I'll be here." With that, Chris hung up and Trish felt her eyes close, exhaling as she set her paintbrush down, and dropped her face into her hands.
"Like he knows anything..." Trish muttered quietly, sniffling to herself. She decided that she was done with her painting for the day, done with doing anything. She rose from her seat and trudged up the stairs. She just wanted to curl up in her bed, close her eyes, and never wake up again.
*********
"I can't, Trish." Shane sighed softly as he ran a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes landing on the blonde that sat across from him in his office. "I can't give you another three months off. We've already lost three divas to injury, one of those being one of our star divas. We need you, Trish."
Trish stared at Shane blankly from where she sat before shaking her head silently. "Fine, whatever." She muttered, lowering her head, allowing her eyes to land on her fingers that were picking uncomfortably at her sweat pants.
"Trish, I don't mean to put you in a bad position..." Shane began, his forehead creasing as he studied her demeanor.
"It's nothing Shane. It's nothing, just have to do my job. I get it, okay?" She snapped, her eyes flashing to his as she rose to her feet.
"Maybe..." Shane began, his eyes locking on her form before he spoke in a soft and sincere voice. "Maybe it's just time that you deal with this, Trish. Maybe it's *time*."
With that, Trish shot an angry glare in his direction, rushing out of the office and muttering obscenities under her breath. He was doing this just to trap her, to force her back into the company that she wanted so badly to do nothing with.
And damn him for judging her, for trying to make her deal with what had happened. She would deal with it, and she would deal with it in her time. Nobody but her would have any say in how and when she would deal with his death...
With his death, God... Trish wiped roughly at the tears that had made their way, unwanted, down her cheeks as she had wrapped her arms around herself, hurrying down the hallway at the WWE Headquarters.
She pressed the button, waiting impatiently for the elevator to take her down and out of the building. She stepped on the elevator a few minutes later, her arms crossed over her chest as she stood in the farthest corner back, sniffling quietly as the elevator slowly descended. Trish frowned, unhappy when the elevator stopped at the eighth floor.
Her frown visibly deepened when Chris Irvine stepped onto the elevator. Why the hell was he here? She turned to step back off of the elevator, but Chris grabbed her by the arm to keep her there before pressing the 'close door' button. "What do you want?" She muttered quietly, her forehead creasing at the man who stood beside her.
"I want to talk to you. That's all. You've been avoiding me for months, Trish!"
"So what?"
"So *what*? You're my *best* friend, Trish! I know you're hurting and you refuse to see that. You refuse to deal with your pain, and at some point you're just going to explode." Chris told her, motioning with his hand adamantly.
"And you're just waiting for that moment, aren't you Chris? To be my hero? To rescue the damsel in distress?" She shot quietly, the hostility that she was feeling coating each word that was escaping her pouting lips.
"I don't want to be your hero, Trish. I want to be your friend. Why won't you let me do that? Why won't you let me be your friend?" Chris asked her, this time his voice taking on a more soft quality, his eyes exuding the hurt that he was feeling... the hurt he was feeling because she was in pain, and because she wouldn't allow him to help her through this.
"Because I don't *need* a friend, Irvine! I don't." Trish told him, tapping her foot impatiently until it reached the ground floor, moving to step off of the elevator and frowning when he pressed the close door button and the door closed again. He pressed the button to the top floor, knowing that it would at least buy him a little bit more of her time. Maybe he could talk some sense into her.
"You do need a friend, Trish. You can lie to me, to yourself all you want... but I know you Trish, and there hasn't been one time when you haven't come to me about something. And now you're trying to convince me that all of a sudden you don't need me?" Chris shook his head, his eyes locked on hers, seeing the tears that had been building there for a while now. "It's bullshit, plain and simple!"
"I *don't* need you!" Trish screamed loudly, the tears brimming over as her eyes locked intensely on his, her hands shaking as she yelled at him. "I don't need you! I don't need anyone! I don't need anyone but the one person that I can't have!" The small blonde Canadian gasped for air, her eyes wide as she continued. "Do you even know what it's like? Do you know what it's like to roll over in bed every morning, expecting him to be there... and when you reach over, you feel nothing but a cold sheet? Do you know what it's like to... to make breakfast in the morning, and realize only after the fact that you've made breakfast for two because you're still waiting for him to walk through that door? Do you know what it's like?!" She screamed loudly, her small body shaking uncontrollably now, as her tears began to fall in rapid succession down her cheeks.
"Trishie..." Chris whispered quietly, sad blue eyes locking on her disheveled form before quietly taking her in his arms, placing a tender kiss on the top of her head. He held her securely in her arms, for the first time in months. For the first time in months she was allowing some of her pain to seep out with her tears, Chris absorbing all that she would give him.
She'd kept all of her pain and anguish, all of her feelings about his death silent for months now. And deep down, Chris knew that wasn't good for her. That internalizing her pain and fears was unhealthy. He knew she needed to let go. And that's why he had talked to Shane.
"Chris, I miss him so much..." Trish whispered sadly, sniffling loudly as she buried her face deeper into his muscled chest, searching for something... searching for comfort, her arms wrapped tighter around him, as though she was afraid of falling away, of disappearing. "I just wish that he could hold me one last time, tell me that he loved me one last time... it's all I think about. And it hurts so bad, because I can almost feel him holding me. I can all but hear his voice, and then I remember that he's gone. And it's like someone ripping my heart out of my chest, socking me in the gut.
"And I know this isn't right, that this isn't normal." Her eyes lifted to his, tears still falling down her cheeks as she spoke, her voice hoarse from her crying. "But sometimes I can't help but wish that he'd lived and I'd died."
"No, no..." Chris shook his head slowly as he held her securely to him with one arm, his other hand resting against the hair at the back of her head, simply rubbing it soothing her; holding her, consoling her. "Don't you ever wish that you'd died. He would've never wanted you to die, honey. He died, he risked his life knowing that it would save yours." He whispered, mentally flashing back to what had happened on that day only three months ago.
*********
"Put me down!" Trish giggled loudly, her hand reaching down and slapping her significant other's ass softly, shaking her head from side to side.
He grinned slowly at her request, and at the feeling of her hand on his buttocks. "Hmmm... put you down? Here?" The large man seemed as though he was considering it before shaking his head in the negative. "Nah, not yet."
"Please?" She begged, her hair bobbing with each step that he took down the nearly deserted country road. "I'll be good girl, baby." She grinned, waiting for his response.
"So if I put you down you'll be a good girl?"
"Exactly." Trish nodded emphatically at his question.
"Well I prefer my women bad, so I'll just keep carrying you for a while. Enjoy the rest your legs are getting. I'm a gentleman for sweeping you off your feet."
"And sweep me off of my feet you did." Trish giggled more, smiling when he set her down. She planted her feet on the ground, smiling gleefully in his direction. He made her so happy. He was her soul mate.
She took several steps backwards further into the road that had been quiet most of the day. "You know, baby... I can't wait until we're married with ba—"
"TRISH!" He yelled loudly, his eyes widening instantly with horror. There was a car only yards from her, driving far above the speed limit. Moving instinctively, following his heart, he dove in front of the car, pushing Trish to safety.
Trish hit her head on a rock, earning herself a concussion. But not before hearing the high-impact thud that had ended her lover's life.
*********
"He wanted you to live, Trish. His wish would've been for you to live your life, for you to continue on and be happy. You don't want to take that away from him, do you?" Chris asked gently, his eyes never leaving her.
Trish took a small step back, her eyes closing before she leaned her head backwards as if looking heavenward. As though she could look into the eyes of her lost love. "I'll live for you..." She whispered in a soft tone, her hand clutching the locket that dangled over her chest. And she would; she'd live the rest of her life for him, for the man who had insurmountably changed her life for the better. She would live for Charlie Haas.