A/N: Aaah! Writer's block! Work! School! These things lead to the Dark Side! No...actually, they lead to slow updates, so sorry about the wait!

Thank you to AshlynnxHearts, Nastygrl25, SandraSmit19, coolchic79260, Jemima Flute, WWECHICK24, and Irshbeth for reviewing the last chapter! You guys ROCK!


Chapter 3: Holding It Together

Trish swung the car into an empty space along one side of the expansive parking garage. She shifted the gears into "Park", killed the engine, and twisted around in her seat. "We're here!" she chirped brightly.

From the back seat, Ashley groaned with relief, taking her hands away from her ears. "Thank God! I was ready to stick my head out the window and wait for a semi to hit it." She looked pleadingly at the Women's Champion. "C'mon, Trish…did you really have to play that Britney Spears CD all the way here?"

Trish smiled sweetly back at the rookie Diva. "Now, Ash, you know the rules: whoever drives gets to pick the music." She glanced over at the passenger seat. "Isn't that right, E?"

For a moment, it seemed like Elektra was lost in her own little world again. But just as Trish was about to utter her name a second time, the silver-eyed Diva looked over and smiled. "That's right," She turned back toward the Diva Search winner. "Sorry, Ash."

Ashley groaned again. "You guys are killing me!" she exclaimed. Holding out her hands, she pressed her palms together as though in prayer. "I swear, I will buy you two a frickin' Blizzard machine—just don't make me listen to that crap again!"

"Oh, I don't know," Trish replied. She glanced briefly at Elektra and winked. "I was thinking that, after the show, I could pull out my Spice Girls album and we could—"

"Aaaagghhh!" Ashley screamed, throwing open the car door and vaulting her body out into the garage. Trish and Elektra watched her run around behind the car, both of them chuckling in amusement.

The Women's Champion turned back toward her friend. "You seem to be feeling better." she remarked.

The gray-eyed Diva nodded. "Yeah, well, I caught a nap during the trip down."

"That's good." Trish replied. For a few moments, she stared at Elektra, her eyes slightly narrowed, searching for any indication that her friend might be lying. But the other Diva met her gaze without blinking, a slight smile touching her lips. Eventually, the Women's Champion sighed, turning toward the front and cracking her neck back and forth a few times. "Well, guess I better go round up Ashley and start unloading our stuff." She opened up the driver's side door and eased herself out.

"Give me a sec; I'll help," Elektra called after her. However, as soon as Trish was out of eyeshot, the silver-eyed Diva's smile faded. She leaned back against the passenger's seat, closing her eyes and letting her breath out in one long exhalation. Ever since early this morning, sleep had eluded her. Even during the five-hour drive to Dallas, she had remained awake and alert for the entirety of the trip, feigning a nap only to block out those concerned glances Trish kept shooting her way.

Okay, maybe "alert" was stretching it a bit; "still conscious" was probably a more accurate description. The gray-eyed Diva was painfully aware that she was sleepwalking through life; going through her daily routines in a thick mental fog of unwanted memories and even more undesired emotion. Sleep…by all rights, sleep should have been a release, a temporary escape into oblivion. But more and more, her dreams were becoming just as unbearable as her waking life. Even more so, because she had no control over what her subconscious mind would choose to subject her to.

Elektra bent over, massaging her temples with both hands. She didn't know which she hated more: the fact that she was lying to Trish…or that she was getting better at it. But it was easier—easier than telling her the truth. Lying to her best friend hurt, but telling Trish the truth would also involve telling her about certain things. Things that she couldn't tell anybody.

Not even Dave.

Especially not Dave.

The silver-eyed Diva covered her face with her hands. When had living—just the very act of existing in this world—become such a struggle for her? That wasn't hard to answer; she could pinpoint the exact moment, a warm July night when she had first decided that she would be better off dying—

"Hey, E, are you coming?"

Elektra started at the sound of Trish's voice. "Yeah, just a second!" she called out in reply, her voice filled with a false cheerfulness that grated on her ears. "My leg fell asleep!" Grabbing onto the door latch, she pushed her door open, rotating her body around and planting both feet on the ground. Ducking her head to avoid a collision with the car frame, she stood up.

Almost immediately, a sharp bolt of pain shot up her left leg. Even though she was used to the sensation by now, Elektra still winced. It had been acting up lately, and the long car ride hadn't helped matters any. She bent her knees a few times, trying to work out any stiffness. After a while, the pain receded to a dull manageable ache and she was able to make her way slowly around to the trunk of the car.

Trish watched her progress with some concern. "How's your leg?"

The gray-eyed Diva shrugged. "A little stiff from the car ride; that's all. I just need to walk it out."

"Hey, Elektra," The two women turned toward Ashley. The rookie Diva hesitated for a second. "I always wanted to ask…how'd you hurt your leg, anyway?"

Trish and Elektra both shot each other a look, the same unspoken thought passing between them: How much do we tell her? How much of the story do we divulge without having to start at the beginning? Ashley was a sweet girl, but she was still a newbie. She had yet to encounter either Triple H or Randy Orton. She didn't know about the twisted love a Superstar could have for a title belt—or the depths he was willing to sink to hold onto it.

Ashley looked back and forth between them, aware that a silent dialogue was taking place in front of her. After several long moments, Elektra glanced at the Diva Search winner, her pale eyes unblinking. "Car accident." she replied, her lips curling briefly into a wry smile. She kept her expression absolutely neutral, not allowing even the slightest twitch to betray the churning sensation in her stomach—or the sensory overload of memory flooding her brain. The blinding headlights…the wave of heat from the engine…the rush of air past her face as she flew through the air—

Some wounds never truly healed.

From the curiosity brimming in the rookie Diva's eyes, it was clear that Ashley wanted more information than that single terse statement. But the Dirty Diva had also spent enough time traveling with Elektra to know when to leave well enough alone, so instead of asking another question, she merely answered: "Wow…must have been a bad one."

You have no idea…Elektra thought to herself, but said nothing. She was holding onto her self-control with everything she had, because the memories overwhelming her now were of Triple H's arm wrapped around her throat…

She no longer feared the Cerebral Assassin, but that didn't stop the mere thought of him from making her sick to her stomach.

The silver-eyed Diva dropped her gaze, busying herself with pulling her suitcase out of the trunk, setting it on the ground, and extending the handle. She hoped that neither Ashley nor Trish noticed her hands shaking. Their luggage unloaded, the three Divas set off across the parking garage toward the arena itself.

Both Elektra and Trish had performed at the American Airlines Center numerous times in the past, so it didn't take them long to find the women's locker room. The Women's Champion entered first, followed by Elektra, with Ashley bringing up the rear. The gray-eyed Diva let out a quiet sigh of relief when she saw that the changing area was empty.

It was no secret that Elektra was not well-liked within the Diva roster, and her…incident…three months prior hadn't done much to change their opinion of her. Though no one would ever say it to her face, she knew that a few in particular thought that she had done it for attention. Sick as that notion was, it almost made her want to laugh, because there was nothing that she wanted less. More than anything, she wanted to disappear; to become a nonentity instead of a freak. Because that's what she was now: a freak. An object of morbid curiosity to be stared at and sidestepped and whispered about behind her back. A thing—no longer an individual, but a thing—to be ostracized at all costs.

The three Divas set their suitcases down, unzipping them and pulling out articles of clothing. Trish and Ashley changed into their ring attire, chatting about their upcoming Handicap Bra & Panties match as they did so. Elektra wasn't booked in a match that evening, so she simply donned apparel suitable for an on-screen Diva appearance—a long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder black minidress. The dress was form-fitting and just sheer enough to allow for a subtle distinction between lingerie and skin. To this, she added a pair of knee-high black boots, then headed to the other side of the room with her curling iron and her makeup bag. There were people available backstage to help with hair and makeup, but Elektra was a product of the indie scene—she preferred to do things herself.

She plugged in the curling iron, and while it heated up, she applied her makeup and inserted a pair of dangly earrings into her ears. Taking the now-hot styling iron, she transformed her normally straight tresses into a mass of shining dark waves, then swept it back from her face and pinned it up stylishly. The gray-eyed Diva took a step back, studying the final product of her labors in the mirror.

The figure reflected back at her looked like the epitome of a WWE Diva—beautiful face, curvaceous body displayed to its best advantage. But to Elektra, she felt like she was staring at a corpse, and that all of the outward adornments—hair, makeup, outfit—were just there to mask her internal decay.

Stop it…she told herself sternly, planting both hands on the edge of the counter and leaning forward. She squeezed her eyes closed, blocking out the image of her own reflection. You survived that night…you SURVIVED…and you have everything to live for…a great career…caring friends…an upcoming marriage to a wonderful man who loves you…

So why did she always feel like she was on the verge of losing it all?

The sound of the door's hinges creaking snapped her out of her reverie. Elektra's eyes flew open and she straightened up. Unconsciously, she tugged the sleeves of her dress a little further down over her wrists. She didn't turn around, but instead pretended to be engrossed with her reflection in the mirror, using her fingers to nudge aside a few errant strands of hair. After a moment, she heard Candice Michelle's high-pitched voice exclaim brightly: "Hey, guys! I just wanted to go over our match to…" Her voice trailed off into silence, indicating that she had finally taken notice of the silver-eyed Diva's presence.

Elektra turned around. As she had suspected, Candice was staring at her with a kind of nervous distrust, as though she was an intruding fan who had somehow found her way backstage. It was the same look that most of the Divas—and a fair number of the Superstars—gave her…and it was a look that, after three months, was really starting to get on her nerves.

Off to the side, Trish was watching the two of them warily, ready to interject herself should any trouble arise. Candice tentatively cleared her throat, and Elektra couldn't help but remember that the brunette Diva was one of the ones who had walked out on her six months ago, who had turned her back and more or less said Screw you; I'm not going to trust you anymore, no matter what happens to you… And now here she was, staring at Elektra accusingly, as if the silver-eyed Diva had opened her veins purely to spite her.

Elektra had nothing against Candice personally, but she was struck by a sudden and almost overwhelming impulse to drive her fist into the other Diva's face. The gray-eyed Diva pressed her hand against her side, feeling her nails digging into her palm. "Please," she drawled, the sarcasm fairly dripping off her words. "Don't let me interrupt you." With an abrupt motion, she stepped away from the makeup area, striding across the room. She dug around in her shoulder bag with her other hand and extracted her IPod. She glanced back up at Candice, feeling a twinge of satisfaction in seeing the brunette Diva shrink back a little. "I was just leaving anyway." She stormed toward the door and Candice drew back to avoid any accidental contact with her.

For a second or two, the silver-eyed Diva froze, weighing in her mind whether or not to call Candice out for making her personal dislike so overt. But the desire to do so quickly passed. Candice was not the first—or the only—to do so…and besides, she had no desire to fight. Not anymore. Elektra turned her head slightly, peering at the brunette Diva out of the corner of her eye. Finally, she turned back toward the door, and putting her hand on the handle, pulled it open and stepped out into the corridor.

As soon as the door swung shut behind her, Candice let her breath out in an audible sigh. She looked back at Trish—and saw that both the Women's Champion and Ashley were glaring at her. "What?" she asked, glancing back and forth between them. "What'd I do…" Her voice rapidly faltered and the brunette Diva snapped her mouth shut.

"Nice, Candy," Trish snapped. "Real nice."


Elektra walked rapidly down the hall, one hand clutching her IPod, the other pressed to her forehead. She kept her gaze on the floor, and hoped to God that she didn't run into anybody in the process. Her reputation as the Raw roster's resident crazy was already bad enough.

She ground to a halt beside a pair of black equipment crates, turning around and resting against the edge of one of them. She tilted her head up toward the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling, closing her eyes against their harsh glow. Already, her anger was dissipating, its warmth fading away and leaving her in the cold embrace of her despair. No, despair was too strong a word; despair was for people who had nothing left…and Elektra still had a lot left to lose. No, it was desperation that surrounded her; that she would lose everything if she didn't pull it together—but wondering with each passing day if she was really strong enough to do it.

Either way, she couldn't go on like this for much longer…because she wasn't the only one beginning to lose faith in her.

The gray-eyed Diva sighed, opening her eyes and looking back down. Lifting up her IPod, she concentrated on unwrapping the headphone cord from around the slim electronic device. She was so focused on this task that she yelped in surprise and jumped when a large arm wrapped itself affectionately around her shoulders.

"Hey! How's my favorite girl doing?"

Elektra turned toward the owner of the voice, her mouth curling upward into one of her first real smiles of the day. "Sorry to disappoint you, John, but—" She held up her left hand, displaying her sizable engagement ring. "I'm taken." she finished.

The WWE Champion John Cena sighed, looking disappointed. "Damn!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers in mock chagrin. "Knew I should have asked you out when I had the chance!" He glanced over at the gray-eyed Diva, a mischievous grin slowly spreading across his face. "Well, then…could I be the guy you see on the side?"

Elektra tapped her chin with her finger, pretending to ponder this notion. "You know, I was going to give that spot to Hacksaw Jim Duggan, but since you asked so nicely…" She paused, a playful smile lighting up her own face. "You can totally be the guy I see on the side." John burst into laughter at this, and after a moment or two, Elektra joined him.

For all the havoc that the 2005 draft lottery had wreaked on her life, the addition of the WWE Champion to the Raw roster was perhaps one of its few positives. She and John had become fast friends, and it was not uncommon to see the two of them hanging out backstage, swapping stories about life before the WWE. Elektra didn't quite understand why she felt so comfortable around the Champ. She knew that they'd had a connection ever since No Way Out back in February, when she'd been suffering from some personal guilt issues and had ended up confiding everything in Cena. John never talked about what had happened to her back in July—and never asked her to—but always managed to convey the sense that when she was ready to talk, he would be there to listen. And out of all the people she was close to, he was one of the few who could always bring her out of her melancholia.

"Just don't let Dave find out," the silver-eyed Diva added. "Because he will kick your ass—"

John grimaced. "No doubt. I saw what he did to JBL at SummerSlam—believe me; the last place I want to be is on your fiancée's bad side." Despite all their teasing, both Cena and Elektra knew that there was a well-defined line between joking and flirtation—and that line should never be crossed. The WWE Champion might joke about being her boyfriend, but in reality, he knew that honor belonged to Batista—and he had always respected that.

As though sensing that he was treading close to that boundary, the Champ changed the subject, glancing down at Elektra's IPod. "So…what do you keep on that thing, anyway? I always wanted to know…" Before the gray-eyed Diva could say anything, he snatched the electronic device out of her hand, moving over to the other side of the hallway while he scrolled through the menu.

Elektra's mouth dropped open. "You jerk! Give it back—" She pushed herself off the equipment crate, snatching at the IPod, but John held it easily out of her reach, reading off names as he did so.

"Let's see…Zombie, Zombie—lot of Rob Zombie on here—Disturbed, Saliva—" He stopped. "Holy crap, you've got the New Kids on the Block on here." The WWE Champion looked down at her, grinning. "I didn't know you were a Block Head."

"I'm not!" Elektra protested unconvincingly. "My sister put it on there at Christmas—"

"Oh, sure, blame it on your sister," Cena interrupted. "I always knew you were a closet Donnie Wahlberg fan." Taking one of the ear buds, he inserted it into his ear, while selecting the album on the menu screen. "Step by step, ooh baby," he sang, turning toward Elektra. "Gonna get to you, girl—c'mon, E, dance with me!"

The gray-eyed Diva regarded the Champ with amusement. "I don't know what's scarier—you knowing the words or you dancing."

The WWE Champion pretended to be wounded, putting his hand on his chest. "Aw, E, you're breaking my heart! C'mon, let's go!" He moved closer to her, shuffling back and forth in an improvised version of the Carlton dance. Elektra couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing, clapping both hands over her mouth. John smiled, his mission obviously accomplished.

"Hey, guys, whatcha doing?" The Champ and the silver-eyed Diva turned to see Maria standing next to them, smiling. Cena quickly pulled the ear bud out of his ear, handing the IPod back to Elektra.

"Nothing really," he admitted. "Just having a little NKOTB flashback."

"Oh, I love the New Kids!" the backstage reporter replied, her voice brightening. "I have them on my IPod; I listen to them all the time." She glanced at Cena, and Elektra couldn't help but notice the puppy-like adoration in her green eyes as she stared at the Doctor of Thuganomics. She didn't know how Cena felt about Maria personally, but the Champ would be wise to find out, because it was painfully obvious that Raw's backstage reporter had a crush on him.

Maria moved her gaze back to Elektra, clearing her throat. "Listen, E, I can't find my cell phone; I think I might've left it in the car. Do you mind going back with me to the garage so I can look for it?"

The gray-eyed Diva nodded. "Sure, no problem."

"Can I tag along?" the Champ interjected, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders.

"Sure!" Maria chirped, gazing up at John affectionately, and Elektra almost wanted to kick the Champ for being so oblivious. The three of them started off down the hall in the direction of the parking garage; Maria and Elektra in front, with Cena following behind. The backstage reporter chatted almost non-stop and the silver-eyed Diva listened to about half of it, nodding whenever she thought it appropriate. Maria's exuberance and excitability sometimes irritated Elektra, but she let it go. Maria had been there for her when a lot of the other Divas hadn't been willing to make the effort.

More than that, she had saved Elektra's life…and that was something the gray-eyed Diva would never even come close to repaying her for.

The narrow quarters of the corridor opened up into the wide expanse of the garage, now even more crowded with automobiles. Elektra vaguely registered what Maria was saying—"It's over there, by the red one…"—and then the rest of the world dissolved away into meaninglessness when she saw the collection of figures walking in their direction from several yards away.

It was a group of Superstars, comprised of some of the SmackDown brand's biggest names. But all of Elektra's attention, all of her focus, was on one individual, the Superstar leading the pack—the love of her life, her fiancée, the World Heavyweight Champion Dave Batista.

The gray-eyed Diva stopped so suddenly that Cena almost ran into her. For a moment, her heart stopped, then resumed its rhythmic beat, pounding so hard she thought it was going to burst out of her chest. She touched her face, trying to reassure herself that she was really here and this was really happening.

Across the way, the Animal halted as well, the other SmackDown Superstars almost falling over one another in their attempt not to collide with him. A second elapse as the pair stood there, regarding each other from a distance. Then Elektra broke the spell. She thrust her IPod blindly at Maria, not even looking over to see if the backstage reporter caught it. The silver-eyed Diva strode forward, not even feeling the impact of her boots connecting with the concrete floor. Batista let go of his suitcase, throwing his World title onto the ground as he came toward her.

And then Elektra was in his arms, her feet leaving the ground as the Animal swept her up into his embrace. She wrapped her legs around his waist, molding her body against his. His hands were on her back, his touch burning through her dress all the way to her skin. Batista dipped his head down, capturing her lips with his. The instant his mouth met hers, Elektra felt all of her anxiety, all of her sadness, vanish. Batista had always been her rock, her protector; his presence alone was enough to drive away the demons within herself, at least for a short while.

This was the reason she was holding it together; this was the reason she was still living. Because it wasn't just her life anymore, it was Dave's, too, and taking it would have meant forcing him to live without her. And she couldn't do that—because there was no way that she could exist without him.

The kiss seemed to stretch on forever, but eventually, the pair broke apart. The Animal rested his forehead against Elektra's, drinking in the subtle scent that rose off her skin. His breath was heavier than usual, and the gray-eyed Diva could feel his heart racing all the way through the various layers of clothing. Slowly, reluctantly, she disentangled her legs, sliding carefully back down to the floor. She lifted her head up, meeting Batista's eyes, and feeling her throat swell shut with emotion. Tears brimmed on the edges of her lower lashes. "I know I say this all the time," she managed to say, her voice cracking. "But I missed you,"

The Animal didn't answer at first. Instead, he took hold of one of her hands, lifting it up and pressing his lips to her palm. He let go of it, reaching out to gently cup her face. Elektra closed her eyes, feeling the soft tickle of the first tear rolling down her cheek, then the light brush of Batista's skin against her skin as he wiped it away. His voice was so low that she almost didn't hear him at first. "So did I, baby." His hands slid back to her hair, and she felt his lips touch her forehead. "So did I."

Elektra let her pale eyes drift open, tilting her head up and wrapping her arms around the Animal's neck as she pulled him down into another kiss.


Maria fluttered her hands near her face, blinking her large eyes rapidly. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry!" she remarked. "It's just…" She paused a moment to compose herself. "They love each other so much, and they're just…they're just so cute together." The backstage reporter swiped under her eyes with her fingertips. "Don't you think so, John?"

Maria hadn't turned around, so she didn't see the pained expression cross the Champ's face—or the way he looked away when Elektra pulled Batista into a kiss. "Yeah," Cena replied after a while, hoping that the backstage reporter wouldn't hear the envy in his voice. "Real cute."