Walking into Catering was like walking through a minefield of disgust and disproval where narrowed slits of condemnation shadowed him in animosity. Blame and accusation intermingled with hisses of speculation as he made his way to the back only to be shunned and ostracised, he sat alone at the vacant table, attempting to make himself invisible.

Chest tight with fear and stomach heavy with guilt Chris Jericho sat, blue eyes burning with regret and fury. Injustice coursed through his veins, pulsating ire and ignominy as he sat spurned by his co-workers.

The shriek of metal against the panelled flooring startled him from his pity party; jolted Chris looked up to see Shawn Michaels turning the chair around so that he could rest his arms across the back.

"Rough night?"

Shawn's question was light, his tone unwavering under the stares of displeasure he garnered for daring to fraternise with the enemy.

"What do you think?" snapped Chris, words threaded with fatigue. Violet rimmed his eyelids, the dark circles a testament to the lack of sleep he had endured.

"Cool it Christopher, I'm not the one who jumped you in Victoria" retorted Shawn heatedly

"Sorry"

The apology was mumbled, a breathless murmur of defeat.

Silence stretched between them, an endless chasm of discomfort.

"Why are you here anyway?" Chris blurted shattering the quiet

"I work here" quipped Shawn

"No I mean why are you sitting with me"

"Are you saying you'd rather sit alone?"

"No just nobody else is sitting with me. It looks like the new trend is to freeze out Chris, I was just wondering why you'd broken rank to sit with the devil"

Shawn looked around; fraudulent confusion flickered across his face as he resumed glancing at Jericho.

"You know me Chris; I was never one to follow trends, besides everyone knows the devil is on Smackdown now" he smirked, "But in all seriousness, I don't see why you're getting such a hard time"

"Didn't you see YouTube?"

"You what?" asked Shawn bewildered

"It's a video site, there's about four different versions of me assaulting-"

"Being assaulted" Shawn interjected hastily

"Whatever, it doesn't matter how it gets phrased, once Vince calls me in his office I'm dead. I might as well pack my bags and get the first plane back to Florida"

"Oh nice attitude" mocked Shawn, "You get in a little bit of trouble and you're gonna turn tail and run"

"A little bit of trouble? Shawn do you own a computer? This incident is currently circulating the entire internet and I'm being painted as the anti-Christ for spitting on this chick-"

"You spat on her? Did she spit on you?" Shawn peppered him with questions

"Yeah"

"Well then it's retaliation"

"I spat on her first" admitted Chris, his voice low with regret.

"If it's any consolation I used to spit on fans all the time, Vince can smooth that one over no problem"

"Did you ever hit a woman though Shawn?"

Shawn paused, frigid stillness circulated between them as he contemplated the distressed question.

"No" whispered Shawn, "But I wasn't a saint either"

Chris hung his head in his hands, hiding reddened cheeks in his palms.

"I'm gonna end up on TNA with some lame assclown gimmick-"

"Come on no you won't. Kurt Angle already has that covered" joked Shawn, desperately attempting to lift the younger man's spirits.

"Funny" snorted Chris dryly, "This isn't a joke Shawn"

"I know but it's not the end of the world either Irvine! Trust me when I tell you, I've done stuff a million times worse than this and Vince still lets me working here"

"You don't understand" exploded Chris furiously, "I screwed up!"

"Like I never did that?"

"I hit a woman" seethed Chris, anger bubbling and writhing within at his own stupidity

"She shoved you!" retorted Shawn fiercely, "What were you supposed to do, let her carry on smacking you around?"

"I should have just left it alone. I mean, what am I supposed to tell my wife and kids?" asked Chris pitifully, all rage erased from his tone as the bitter sting of embarrassment threaded its way into his words.

"Just tell Jess what happened"

"Oh she'll love that" scoffed Chris, "I can't wait to see her face when she finds out she married a woman beater-"

"Wait did your wife not see Summerslam?" cracked Shawn, sarcasm once again overrode seriousness as he attempted to cheer up the Canadian.

"You're not helping!" hissed Chris, eyes ablaze with annoyance.

" Ok I'm sorry" apologised Shawn having the grace to look sheepish, " Just tell Jessica what happened, I'm sure she'll understand. I mean you've been married nearly as long as me and Becks and she stuck with me through a whole lot more than a scuffle with a psycho fan. Give your wife some credit Chris"

"It wasn't a scuffle it was assault "

"Nine marines outside a night club is assault Chris, two idiots is a scuffle" Shawn corrected.

"There were more than two idiots. There was a mob"

"Of idiots or marks?" enquired Shawn

"Is there a difference?"

"I guess not"

"I just don't want the world thinking I'm some sort of nut"

Shawn sat; trying to piece together Chris' fragmented thinking as the man moved from one weighted worry to another in rapid succession.

"No one thinks you're a nut, they think you're a wrestler who got provoked into fighting back "

"Yeah? Is that why I'm being ignored by practically the entire company?" spat Chris

"I'm not ignoring you"

"Everyone else is"

"What do you care what everyone else thinks? Do you think what you did was right?"

"Defending myself? Sure. Just, maybe I shouldn't have hit her-"

"Stop beating yourself up! Vince is on your side, if he wasn't there's no way he'd have told the Office to release a statement on your behalf. They never issue statements when Randy messes up, they just let them slide in the sheets and then tear him apart on Monday."

"I guess" muttered Chris pulling at a stray thread on his jeans, "I just wish I hadn't flipped out like that. I looked crazy"

"You looked angry" sighed Shawn exasperatedly, "Heck I try to stay calm nowadays and if that had happened to me and someone provoked me into a frenzy, I'd have done the same thing. I'd have reverted right back to my 1997 persona so quit trying to make yourself out to be the worst man alive. You're far from it."

Chris shrugged, shoulders slumped in self loathing. No matter how hard Shawn tried to persuade him otherwise he couldn't shake the gnawing guilt and disgrace from his stoic form. The blind rage that had overpowered him in his own state had weaned and thinned to regret and sorrow when the adrenaline had stopped pumping, overtaking fear and fury to leave him submerged in the ice cold debris of shame.

"Hey slugger!"

Shaken from their musings the duo looked up as JBL's foghorn cry reached them from across the room.

Shawn rested a steadying hand on Chris' chest, firmly preventing the younger man from rising to Layfield's bait.

"Relax" he whispered "He's looking for a rise. Let Styles deal with him"

A taut smile lingered on Chris' lips.

"Vince wants to see you in his office!" smirked JBL, eyes glinting with amusement at another's downfall.

"Shawn?"

The elder Texan raised an eyebrow at the young man's barely audible tone.

"If you kick him for real I'll remedy your Kayfabe crisis"

Shawn chuckled softly.

"I guess I better go see Vince" announced Chris quietly, his words dripping in reluctance. Slowly he rose to his feet, aware that once again the entire room was focused on him.

He flinched from Shawn's gentle touch, rebuked the bitter sliver of pity it was encased in.

"Don't worry kid, if worst comes to worst you can always blame it on IED" he teased reassuringly.

With a nod Chris turned from the table, preparing himself to face McMahon.