In Loving Memory, a wrestling fanfic

Please remember this is purely fiction, nothing more, nothing less. Thank you.

Enjoy!

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As the theme music 'No Chance in Hell' blared from the amps in the Smackdown arena, a hush fell over the announcers and audience alike, with some boos directed in the way of the Chairman of the Board. Everyone was confused. What was Vince McMahon doing on Smackdown? He only usually featured on Raw. Giving each other puzzled glances, Michael Cole and John Bradshaw Layfield had no idea either why their boss was present there tonight.

However, all was about to be revealed.

Power walking his way into the ring, Mr. McMahon grabbed a hold of a mic, a smug grin intruding his face. As he waited for the crowds to calm down a little more, he noticed all of the signs in the arena that night; 'DX 4 life', 'Kennedy please shut up', 'we want Lashley' were amongst some of them. Yet, only a few signs for the man he was about to introduce into the ring.

Clearing his throat, he placed the microphone to his mouth, ready to begin. "Now, I bet your all sat there thinking, what the hell is that s.o.b Vince McMahon doing standing in the middle of a Smackdown ring, huh?" he questioned, the hoards of people jeering in agreement. What was Vince doing at the Smackdown show? Yes, he would be helping to produce it, of course, but that was backstage. Why was he in the ring?

"I knew you would be but, believe me, there is a very good reason for all of this." he re-started, un-buttoning some of his Armani jacket, delving his free hand into his trouser pocket. "You see, just a little over a year ago, the WWE lost someone very important to them, someone who was very valuable to Smackdown." he stated.

The Eddie chants came out in full force, making everyone backstage watching on the monitors smile; it was good to know that people still remembered and adored Latino Heat, even twelve months on from his untimely death.

"Anyway, like I was saying." Vince spoke up, wanting to continue. "We lost someone very valuable to us. But, thanks to McMahonism which you all believe in, right?" he urged an answer, only to get bombarded with thousands of boos. 'They won't be booing for much longer!' the Chairman mused to himself.

"Without further a-do, it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you my guest this evening - by the powers of McMahonism - EDDIE GUERRERO!"

Everyone present raised an eyebrow, as well as the people watching at home. Was this some sort of sick joke? Was the late Eddie Guerrero IN the arena?

"VIVA LA RAZA!". The music began, all eyes fixed to the entrance. Then, there he was...

Mouths dropped open as his trademark low rider bounced into the arena, some people still sceptical as to whether the men inside was THE Eddie Guerrero. Yet, no one dare say anything; they wanted it to be confirmed.

Silence was again set in, everyone staring at the drivers side door, awaiting the entrance. The vehicle recoiled up and down, in time with the well loved music, everyone on baited breath. Then, he got out...

Some squinted, others shook their head, many cheered as the man that they thought had passed away stepped from the car, his bright white, toothy grin gleaming under the sparkling lights. He raised his arms above his head, motioning for the crowd to cheer him louder. How he missed the crowd reactions. And how the crowd clearly missed him.

Dancing down to the ring, he grabbed many of the fans hands on the way down. "He touched me! Eddie Guerrero touched me!" one young boy cried, not having taken off his 'EG' tribute arm band securely around his tiny bicep for a year.

Standing in the ring, Eddie motioned for a microphone from old friend Tony Chimel. "It's him, it's really him!" JBL cheered, not quite believing his eyes, his mind telling him that he never would see his good friend and Grooms Man again.

"It is, it really is the Eddie Guerrero!" Cole added. "You can tell - no one had eyes like Eddie!"

Latino Heat savoured the moment, the crowds applauding too loud for words as his name echoed. Eddies lips curled into a smile, desperate to say what he felt needed to be said.

"Viva la Raza!" he yelled, the crowed only becoming more electrified. Those who doubted his appearance were now convinced that the gentleman stood in the ring was indeed Eddie Guerrero; the man with the bright, comical yet tropical shirt and cream coloured trousers, could be no one but Eduardo Gory Guerrero.

The volume dropped, many curious as to why the one and only Latino Heat was here. "Now, I know what you are all thinking - that guy is meant to be dead right?" Eddie asked, glancing around at the nodded heads transfixed to his frame. "Well...I lied!" he joked, the crowd once again erupting. "Well, no, I am dead. But, Vince here is right, for once; he did bring me back through the powers of McMahonism although that's not the religion I believe in!"

Vince rolled his eyes; he knew that Eddie's sense of humour would never change, nor his faith.

"But, you know, lying on a cloud all day gives you a lot of time to reflect on everything you had ever done, everything you ever saw and - most importantly - everything and everyone you ever loved." he stated, the crowd still listening attentively. "You see, getting so much time to watch Smackdown! every week, it gives me time to watch what everyone is still doing; who's the top guy, who's not doing so well and who is feuding." Eddie told, everyone fascinated with the words coming out of his mouth. "And that brings me to the reason I am here."

The crowd gasped. They all knew exactly where this emotional journey would be taking them next.

"Chavo, Rey, Chris and my lovely wife, Vickie, we need to talk." he urged. He knew they were all in the backstage area, including Mysterio, who had recently undergone major knee surgery. Yet, all four valuable people of Eddie in life and death had no idea he was there.

All of them made their way out to the ring, each other them confused but extremely happy. Helping his wife into the ring, Eddie dropped the microphone, embracing her warmly. Her tears trickled onto his shirt. "I miss you so much." she wailed, comforted by his soft touch.

"I miss you too everyday, Mamacita." he whispered, gently brushing her lips, as Chavo stared in disbelief at his Uncle.

"Eddie?" he questioned, not sure what to make of the whole incident.

Latino Heat never replied; he nodded as he helped a shocked Benoit bring Rey into the ring. Handing Mysterio his clutches, the three men hugged, tears stinging their eyes; was this really happening? That was at least the question still present on the lips of Chavo whose eyes had not left his Uncles body.

"You should all know why you are here." Eddie began, retaking the mic in his hand, four of the most valuable people in his life stood before him. "Chavito, esse, what's going on with you man? And Vickie, why Mamacita are you doing this?" he inquired his voice stern and awaiting answers as Benoit and Mysterio half looking at their best friend, half glaring at Chavo and Vicki; it was about time some responses were given.

Suddenly, before he could say anything, Chavo broke down in a heap on the floor. Curling himself up, he didn't want his big 'brother' to see his tears. Kneeling beside him, Eddie held his baby 'brother' in his arms, feeling the younger mans body shake.

"I'm so sorry." Chavo struggled for breath, his lungs exhausted of air as his tears controlled his body. "I just wanted to make you proud."

"You have." Eddie replied. "Just not by beating up my best friends." he chuckled as he spoke, trying to enlighten his Nephews mind. "Why have you been doing this?" he quizzed again, more firmer.

Chavo swallowed hard, Eddie's hands guided his face, their dark eyes connecting. "I...I hated them for taking over our name." he stammered, coming to the realisation that he was ashamed of himself and his actions. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." he concluded, hurt attacking his voice. Helping him stand, his Uncle wanted nothing more than for him to say it to the other great wrestlers stood in the ring with them.

Standing, Chavo ventured over to the wheel chair of Rey, who was still obviously in a lot of physical and emotional pain. "Can you ever forgive me?" he pleaded the Rabid Wolverine and the Master of the 619. Thankfully - and tearfully - they accepted, glad that this was all coming to an end.

The event of seeing their beloved Eddie again made everyone in the ring feel many sensations, some not so pleasant. They all knew deep in their hearts - especially Chavo and Vickie - what they were doing was wrong, fighting against each other like that. Bickering like toddlers over something they had absolutly no control over; Death.

Yet, it wasn't until the man they were fighting over took a short lived step back into their lives did they realise how badly they were all affected by it and just how much they had been bottling up for over 365 days.

Latino Heat returned his attentions to his wife who still didn't know what to make of it all. She played with the tassels on her red and pink scarf nervously. Was her soul mate mad at her?

Opening his arms, Eddie knew that she had learnt her lesson. Her eyes had lost their usual, pretty sparkle, her face tired and worn. Alas, it was understandable after what the past twelve months had offered her.

Vickie's tears streamed faster down her face, the salty water drooping onto her lips as Eddie tenderly invited her for a kiss. "I know you are sorry." he murmured, cupping her face in his palms. "Just promise me never to do it again and to take after the girls." he pleaded, his one regret remaining that his three baby girls, Shaul, Sherilyn and Kaylie Marie weren't there.

Retaking the mic, he turned to Chris and Rey who, by this time, each felt their lips trembling. They were each feeling a thousand and one things at this moment; guilt, euphoria and relief all bundled into one ball of passion.

"You know, the only one regret I have left is that I never said goodbye properly to you four, Dean Malenko and my beautiful daughters." Eddie began to sob quietly, Chris placing a comforting arm around him. "I guess that will never happen, huh?"

"Don't be so sure..." Vince chimed up. He had been surprisingly quiet through out the whole proceedings, as his finger pointed to the entrance.

Bounding their way down the ramp were indeed Eddie's three daughters and best friend Dean. In turn, each cuddled the man they all assumed they would never see again. The man they thought they would never be able to offer a dignified goodbye to.

"I want you all to remember something." Eddie one again spoke, his voice cracking. "Never, ever, forget to say I love you to the people that you do love. You never know when you might miss that opportunity."

By now, everyone was crying; the nine people in the ring, all of the WWE workers at ringside and in the back, Michael Cole, John Bradshaw Layfield, Tony Chimel, the audience, the people watching at home and including the supposedly cold hearted, Vince McMahon were all shedding tears at the scene they were beholding.

Taking a good long look into each of his friends and families eyes, they all shared a bond that would be unbreakable, in life or death; love.

And with that, there was only one thing left to say; "VIVA LA RAZA!"

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This story is dedicated in Loving Memory of Eduardo Gory Guerrero October 9th 1967 - November 13th 2005.

God Bless Him and thank you for reading.