A/N : Once again, thank you to everyone who has read this story! I absolutely love hearing your feedback and figured with Wrestlemania coming up this weekend, I'd get my longest chapter to date back up after a little bit of reworking. Love you guys and thank you for reading, once again. I hope you enjoy it!


Raising her hand to her face, Lita gingerly pressed her fingertips to her bruised cheek, wincing when it stung. No amount of make-up hid the now slightly yellowing bruises which adorned her cheek and there was absolutely nothing to be done to her forehead – she was going to have to attend Armageddon looking a hot mess, like a proper brawler. There was nothing classy about the bruises on her face... The redhead allowed a sigh to escape her lips at the thought – the past three days had been long and tiring, spent between her hospital bed, the airport and, her current location, the Hilton Hotel and all she wanted to do was sleep, not get ready for her first pay-per-view as an out-and-out bastard.

The hospital had put up quite the fight in terms of discharging the diva, only allowing her to leave on Friday evening when Ric had put on quite the show at the hospital, the other three having already flown to Orlando to prepare for their matches. The flight she shared with the sixteen-time champion, despite being all expenses paid, was less than pleasant. She had begged him to let her go home before the pay-per-view, assuring him she would be in Orlando first thing on Sunday morning but, in true Evolution style, Ric had promised her that all she needed and more awaited her in the sunshine state before ushering her onto the plane and proceeding to sexually harass every female flight attendant he came across. While Ric downed whiskey after whiskey and became increasingly outrageous, Lita was left alone with her own worst enemy: her thoughts. She had never been a selfish person and had, in fact, spent much of her life trying to help people, yet it was helping someone who had gotten her in the physical mess she was in at that moment... A small part of her argued that the person she helped would have done the same for her, that he had done the same for her but the rest of her – largely the bandaged or bruised parts – told her that it was better to be selfish. Either way, it only solidified the idea that she truly had become a fully-fledged member of Evolution...

Her hotel room was large, decked out in predominantly white, and flanked by Hunter and Ric's rooms, Dave and Randy further down the corridor. By her bed was the things she'd taken to Anaheim with her the previous week, her wrestling gear long forgotten at the bottom, where someone – she presumed Ric or Dave – had stashed them after the show.

Lita allowed her hand to drop from her face and turned away from the mirror. She had come to hate her reflection, long before the bruises had arrived. It was with a heavy sigh that she moved across the room and tentatively moved into a seated position on her bed. It was all her own fault, of course; she had no-one but Evolution and there was no one else she could blame. Not truthfully. She had chosen this life, no matter how she chalked it up. She cast a hopeful glance down at her cell phone which lay just to her side. She had expected at least one text from one of her former friends wondering how she was but that, it appeared, was expecting too much. She was painfully reminded of Hunter's words back at the hospital: "Ric and I were ambushed by your buddies." They had tried to stop them from saving her. They had prolonged the attack on Dave, Randy, and herself. A warm tear began a slow trail down her cheek as she lay back, her head coming to rest on her pillows. They had allowed her to end up in this mess. Not Hunter. Not Randy. Them. Her 'friends'.

Her eyes closed as she dried off her cheek, the lone tear being wiped aside by her thumb. It really had come to this and tomorrow she was going to prove it. Tomorrow she was going to accompany her new 'family' to ringside and she was going to watch as Kane and Goldberg were handed their revenge, even if she couldn't bring herself to choose Randy over Rob, no matter how betrayed and hurt she felt by the Battle Creek native. She was an Evolution member, yes, but she was still Lita. And Rob, he was still Rob. He'd never truly hurt her…had he? Full of conflicted feelings, the redhead turned to her side and attempted to sleep – she would need as much rest as possible for the pay-per-view – and it was in drowsing off to sleep that she received a single text message. 'Remember to take your painkillers. Randy.'

It was from a place of loneliness, she supposed, that she reached out to grab her phone. Loneliness and a small wave of confusion that came from the painkillers she was prescribed. Her fingers moved quickly over the buttons as she asked him to come over, something she regretted almost instantly. Why would he come to her hotel room? Why did she want him to? With a sigh she rolled her eyes, placing her cell down beside her; he wouldn't reply, of course. Tomorrow was the biggest night of his career so far – why would he want to waste the night before it chatting to her? Lita groaned inwardly at the very thought – she didn't want to chat to him, particularly. There wasn't much to say. All her questions about the previous week had been answered by Ric or by the re-watch of Raw she'd managed to catch that morning. So, when her cell phone lit up, the message on the screen telling her that Randy would be along in five, she forced herself to sit back up, to push back the covers and attempt to look like she knew what she was doing.

When the light knock finally came on her hotel room door, it took all her strength to push to her feet and cross the room to answer it. Dressed in baggy Nike shorts and an old, faded t-shirt, Randy Orton looked ready for a round at the gym, though the bruising around his eye and the cut on his forehead said otherwise. Opening the door wide enough to let him in, Lita nodded in greeting. This wasn't exactly a normal situation for either of them and she wasn't entirely sure how she was supposed to go about it. "You're looking better," Randy acknowledged as he entered the room, hovering at the end of her now un-made bed.

"Wouldn't be hard, though, would it?" she asked, closing the door, and wincing as she motioned for him to take a seat.

"Hunter said you had to forfeit the match tomorrow." He couldn't quite meet her eye as he spoke, sitting on the very edge of the bed and picking at his thumbnail. "That sucks." It had broken her heart when Ric had suggested it, promising that she would have a chance at the title when she was back to health, when she was ready. When she could win. She'd known, deep down, that there was no way she could wrestle, yet it had hurt to be told she had no say in the matter. Hunter had already spoken to Eric Bischoff, who had replaced her faster than she could say 'Evolution'.

"Trish is the number one contender now." It was fair to say that their conversations had rarely been record breaking, yet she had never felt so tense speaking to the youngest member of Evolution. She had resolved herself to being just like him, yet they were worlds apart and, even if she had found an inexplicable soft spot for the St. Louis native, there was something she couldn't quite put her finger on, something about him that made her uneasy.

"I'm sorry," he replied, finally meeting her eye. The grey shadows below his eyes she'd noticed on Wednesday were still present and his shoulders were slumped in defeat.

"It's not your fault," she replied, a small voice in the back of her mind reeling off a list of those whose fault it was. Goldberg, Chris Jericho, Christian, Kane.

"No. It is. If I'd handled it out there, you wouldn't have got in the ring and…" motioning vaguely to her body, he trailed off. "None of this would have happened. I know it, Hunter knows it, Dave knows it… Hell, even Ric knows it. I was the weak link."

Lita scoffed, certain that this was some sort of joke. She wound up in hospital yet she was supposed to feel sorry for Randy? "Are you kidding me?" she replied, an eyebrow raising and causing pain to shoot through her forehead. "You did the best you could. How were you to see any of that coming?"

"You did. We watched it back – at the hospital. On Tuesday. You saw Kane, you knew what game he was playing –"

"And I did nothing, I get it. You still think I'm not working as a team, yeah?!" Before she could launch into a tirade, she looked back at the man on her bed who was shaking his head, a weak, humourless laugh escaping him.

"Pretty safe to say those bruises you're sporting are proof that you're a team player. I just meant that I was distracted, I wasn't paying attention. If I had, none of this would have happened and now we're going into Armageddon on the back foot. Hunter says it's alright, that we'll still be okay, but seeing you in that hospital bed…" Swallowing thickly, he cracked his knuckles. "I shouldn't have let you get in that position. I said I don't want you at ringside tomorrow, but Hunter told me that wasn't an option."

"Why?" This was not how she had expected the evening to go when she'd asked him over – there was a multitude of scenarios which could have gone down but this, this vulnerable version of Randy trying to apologise… that had not been one of them.

"Says we need to show a united front. What's more united than you being in my corner when I pin your friend?"

She had been about to respond, to tell him that that wasn't what she was questioning – she wanted to know why he was trying to ban her from ringside – but hearing him refer to Rob as her friend stopped her. "A friend would have called by now," she said, her voice quiet as she finally took a seat, her back aching at just the strain of standing up. She hadn't thought of it until now – sure, Rob hadn't hurt her, but he hadn't helped her, either. "None of them have called. I didn't expect them to but, I don't know, Rob was different. Him or Lilian, I thought they'd check to make sure I was okay or…"

It was like just saying the words had made her colder, and she hugged her arms around her body, eyes trained on their feet, Randy's sneakers planted firmly on the floor beside her fluffy socks. "You don't need them. You've got us. You've got Evolution," he replied, the warmth of his arm flooding her as it settled around her shoulder.

"At what cost? I've lost everyone…."

"When you rise to the top, you have to make sacrifices. It's just part of being in Evolution," his voice sounded strained as he spoke, and if it weren't for his arm steadying her, holding her in place, she'd have turned to face him.

"What did you sacrifice, then?"

"Nothing." The steeliness to that one word took her by surprise, given how calm he'd been just seconds before. "Doesn't matter."

For a second, they sat in silence, the diva leaning in slightly as she placed her head on his shoulder. "You don't have to be sorry, you know? I made my own decision to get in the ring. I would have done it regardless of whether I thought you could handle it or not. And I did. I do. But Kane's a different breed – he's something different, unpredictable. And whether it was you or Dave or Ric or Hunter, I'd still have put myself in that position," she found herself assuring him. If he thought it was his fault, it was like he owed it to her to protect her and tomorrow night, when he stepped in the ring with Rob, she wanted his attentions to be fully on the match.

"Bullshit," he replied, though another soft, breathy laugh followed it. Pulling back slightly, he removed his arm from her shoulders, the Diva frowning slightly at the lack of contact. In recent weeks, it had felt as though no one had wanted to touch her, to be near her, and for a few moments, it had been nice just to be held. Twisting slightly, Randy pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, offering a small smile. "Thanks, though." Her eyes trained on his mouth, she nodded. It was stupid, but for a fraction of a second, she'd wanted nothing more than to lean in, to close the gap between them and press her lips to his, just to feel wanted, just to feel real. "I better go. I need to be ready for the match tomorrow," his words cut through her thoughts, dragging her back to reality and Lita couldn't help but feel a little bit ashamed. She'd forgotten herself. And, most importantly, she'd forgotten who he was. "And so do you. I can't have you passing out in my corner." Pushing to his feet, Randy nodded at her, the soft smile she'd seen moments before already fading, the vulnerability long gone. "I'll get the door. Goodnight Lita." And, just like that, she was left alone once more.


By the time the lights of the arena had dimmed and the pyrotechnics had been tested, Lita was a bundle of nerves. Ric had helped her walk to Gorilla, where she stood, shaking every time Mark Henry or Teddy Long cast the two of them a glance. "Lita? Lita?" Ric snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, shaking her from the trance she had been in. "Lita for God's sake we don't have time for this." She flinched away from his fingers and stared at the older man, the vein in his forehead pulsing. She hadn't noticed until now but Ric looked stressed. Very stressed. It took her a few seconds to realise that they were alone in gorilla, Mark and Teddy – as well as Booker – all having left the area to begin their match in the ring.

"I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip nervously. "I was just in... I was distracted."

"You heard the champ, Princess. We can't have any distractions tonight," Ric replied, adjusting his well-tailored suit, fiddling with the button as he closed and opened the jacket. "This is your chance as much as it is Randy's you know?" Lita's eyebrow quirked and she winced almost instantly. Need to stop doing that... "This is your chance to prove to Hunt that you're loyal to us. After that little outburst at the hospital..."

"I know..." Randy's assurance the previous night that her bumps and bruises had been enough to prove to Evolution she was one of them rang in her ears, though she knew no one believed it.

"So, you know what to do, then?" Her brows furrowed. "You've got to make sure that Randy wins. No matter what happens, Randy Orton has to be crowned the new WWE Intercontinental Champion tonight."

"You want me to cheat." She said simply. There was no defiance, no arguing. That's what she was, now. A cheat.

"We want you to make sure Randy wins," Ric shrugged, finally deciding that his jacket was best left open. "Do the right thing, Lita." He gave her a knowing stare, which made him look almost cross eyed. But the intensity of his stare left the second footsteps could be heard, Ric's head snapping around to where Randy stood, adjusting the waistband of his wrestling shorts. "You ready champ?"

Randy's top lip curled a little, exposing a slither of pearly, white teeth. "You bet," he said, shaking his arms a little, easing out the tension in his shoulders. "And you?" he said, turning to Lita. "You taken those painkillers? You've got to be one hundred percent out there – no flaking on me, now."

Lita's jaw fell as she glared at the young man. "I was hardly flaking out on you last week when I was getting you out of a chokeslam, was I?"

"That wasn't against your buddy Rob, was it?" Randy replied and Lita narrowed her eyes at him. How dare he suggest that she would betray Evolution? In her mind, she scoffed. Just weeks before, she would have done anything to make sure Randy Orton lost this match and yet here she was, keen to prove to him how loyal she was. "Look, I was only kidding. But if you don't want to do this, we can tell Hunter you're in too much pain. Ric can come down with me." There was a hint of the softness and vulnerability she had heard the previous night and she looked away from him.

"It's fine," she said, swallowing and pushing herself off of the crate she had been leaning against. "I'll escort you to the ring." She raked a hand through her hair and exhaled. "That's Booker's music though...I... I think their match is over."

Ric grinned from ear to ear. "Knew you wouldn't let us down, Princess," he said, clapping a hand on Randy's shoulder. A moment of silence passed as the three waited for Booker, Mark and Teddy to pass them. "Make Evolution proud, Champ." Ric said, once the stage hand gave them a signal to go through the curtain.

And, with that, Randy and Lita made their way out onto the ramp, a cocky grin plastered all over Randy's face as he strode ahead, leaving Lita to limp down on her own. He had already reached the bottom of the ramp when he remembered her injured leg and the third-generation superstar paused as he waited for her to catch up, looking thoroughly bored as Motorhead's 'Line in The Sand' played on. Turning momentarily to gauge how far back she was, Randy was surprised to see her so close. "You alright?" he asked, almost inaudibly over the fans booing as she drew level, the diva nodding in response. After that, the self-proclaimed 'Legend Killer' made a great show of helping her to the steps, of making sure she was safely atop the canvas and pushing down the ropes to make her entrance easier on her battered body. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he clambered onto the turnbuckle to make his trademark pose. He was going to have to help her down, now. His arms spread wide, the Legend Killer snarled at the crowd, looking every bit the imposing wrestler but, as soon as One of a Kind began to blare from the huge speakers either side of the titantron, he returned to the gentleman he had been moments before, jumping back onto the canvas and helping Lita onto the steps.

"Get back in the ring," she said through gritted teeth as she moved herself down the steps and onto the ringside area where she propped herself up against the canvas. The look she drew him was not the look of pure poison he expected, but of encouragement which made the corners of his own lips curl slightly as a smile attempted to spread across his face.

After that, his attention was drawn from the redhead and focused on the Battle Creek native who had entered the ring. This was it. This was his chance to prove himself. To prove that he wasn't just Bob Orton's son, to prove that he was a champion and, most importantly, that he was worthy to be in Evolution. The twenty-three-year-old swallowed and continued to watch Rob. Rob Van Dam. The man who had, if rumours were to be believed, harboured a small crush on Lita before her 'turn to the dark side'. The same man who, just weeks after said turn, had aided in an attack on Randy and Batista which led to Lita being smashed through an announce table. Randy shook his head. This had nothing to do with Lita. This was about him. And Rob. And that title. The third-generation superstar rolled his neck as the two waited, staring each other down, for the special guest referee to arrive.

Foley, as was to be expected, arrived with a bang. The fans were almost deafening in their glee as he bounded down the ramp, high fiving the younger fans who lined the barrier. And yet none of this disconcerted Randy, who continued to watch Rob through narrowed eyes, Foley a mere blur in his peripheral vision. As the ring bell sounded and the match began, everything else went out of his mind. He didn't think about Hunter's demand that he bring home the gold, he didn't think about keeping the injured diva at ringside safe and he most certainly did not think about the strip-club he was going to be frequenting once the pay-per-view was over. All thoughts were focussed on Rob.

Lita watched with bated breath as Randy and Rob began to trash talk, their words deafened by the fans though she could surmise that at least one of the jibes or comments had been about her. Randy rolled his eyes as, alongside the fans, Rob began to chant his own name but, by the time he reached the third syllable, Randy's boot had connected with his stomach, making the Battle Creek native double over in pain, Lita wincing as he did.

As the wrestlers in the ring exchanged blows, kicks and derogatory slurs, Lita watched on, her stomach churning the longer the match wore on. Her mind – such a traitor – was filled with memories of times spent with Rob, of evenings spent eating pineapple and cheese pizza and watching old comedies, of days spent in the gym working on her fitness as she prepared to return to the ring, of jokes and laughter, of friendship. And then there's Randy. The former Women's Champion watched as both of Randy's feet left the canvas as he connected with a dropkick, Rob shaking the canvas as his body fell from impact. Randy was a member of Evolution and, therefore, he represented all that was wrong in wrestling. He moved in for the pin, Foley duly counting. He represented corruption and cheating. ONE. He represented bias and favouritism. TWO. He was friends with Triple H for goodness' sake... Rob kicked out of the pin, showing everyone in attendance that it would take more than a dropkick to finish off the current champion.

The redhead flinched as Randy's fist connected with the canvas, the young man looking livid. In next to no time, however, he was back to his feet, ready to attack. He's not all that bad, thought Lita as the two locked up for the umpteenth time in the match. He did save you...More than once. And last night you wanted to kiss him… She shifted her weight between her feet, wincing as she did. The diva swallowed. Need to up the dosage on those painkillers tonight...

She looked up, dragging her mind from her leg, just in time to watch Rob throw Randy over the top rope, the third-generation superstar landing on the hard flooring by the ring. She wasn't quite sure what compelled her nor where she found the strength but, in mere seconds, she was by his side, a thin hand reaching out to grip his shoulder as he grabbed the barrier, hauling himself up into an almost standing position. "Come on, Randy," she said, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Back in there."

Her words were lost on him, however, as Rob cannonballed over the top rope, the champion landing on Randy whose head clattered against the barrier, the diva being thrown to the side and letting out a cry of pain as her leg seemed to burn. Perhaps it had been her shrill cry or perhaps he had been biding his time, hoping for a moment to speak to her but regardless of the motivation, Lita found herself cast in shadow as Rob stood before her. "Lita..." he said, his arms open, a remorseful look in his eyes.

ONE... Mick began the count-out.

"Stay away from me," she gasped, scooting backwards. If truth be told – and in Evolution, it so rarely was – she wasn't sure where the sudden sense of fear came from. All she knew was that she was defenceless and on the floor while Rob, who had caused her fall, loomed over her.

TWO...

"Lita I didn't mean...Please," he extended a hand, offering to help her up but the redhead eyed him warily. "Lita..."

THREE...

"Get away from me, Rob. I mean it..."

FOUR...

"Don't be like this. Please, I'm sorry..." And he truly did look sorry, holding out an unwanted, slightly shaking hand, his eyes full of sorrow and regret.

FIVE...

"I said 'get away'..." her voice shook as she scooted back some more, though Rob made no attempt to close the gap between them, the wrestler standing alone and rejected as his opponent began to stir.

SIX...

"I didn't realise how close you were..."

SEVEN...

Lita frowned. What in the name of God is that supposed to mean? She and Randy weren't close and it was preposterous to claim they – OH. Lita's mind finally caught up as she realised he had meant the physical distance between the two. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that Randy was almost to his feet, now; even if he was having to use the barrier to hold himself up. "Get back in the ring!" she called across to him. "Get back in the ring – BOTH of you!"

EIGHT...

Rob looked down at the woman who seemed genuinely distraught at the idea of a count-out. Of course she is, she could almost see the realization dawn on Rob. Orton can't win with a count-out. He stalled for a fraction of a second before walking towards Randy and, with all the force he could muster, threw him towards the canvas, the taller man rolling under the bottom rope and back into the ring. Climbing between the ropes, Rob followed suit to end the count-out.

Lita exhaled as the two returned to trading blows, using the time they spent in headlocks and roll ups to pull herself towards the barrier and, just as Randy had done, she used the sturdy black barrier to haul herself to her feet. It took the diva much longer to walk from the security wall to the canvas than it should have, enough time for Randy to apply a front face lock into a DDT, Rob's face smashing into the matt as Lita finally gripped onto the apron. Rob was out, no doubt about that, but Randy was struggling to stir. "Come on, Randy," she found herself calling, urging him to move, to pin the current champion. To win.

Slowly but surely, Randy dragged himself closer to the champion, slugging one arm over him as he moved to cover his body and Mick, once again, began a three count. Surprisingly, the former Women's Champion felt as though her heart was in her throat as the legend of hardcore Mick Foley brought his hand down to count the 'three'. Randy was going to be champion. He was going to -

He wasn't going to do anything, just yet. Not while Rob's hand clutched at the bottom rope, ending the three count.

The diva exhaled a long breath she hadn't been aware she was holding as Randy slumped to the side, dejected and aware that he had very little energy and momentum left. Mick shifted to the corner as both men got to their feet unsteadily, Randy just a fraction of a second behind Rob who delivered a spinning kick to his sternum. The champion was running purely on instinct now, throwing kicks in all directions, some connecting with the number one contender while others fell on flat air. After one particularly energetic kick, both men lay flat on the matt, Randy seeing stars while Rob did his best to catch his breath.

But, soon enough, Rob was on the top rope, preparing to end the match. Randy was still out of it, from what Lita could see; the young man lying, unmoving in the centre of the ring as Rob set himself up for the Five Star Frog Splash. She knew what she had to do. The diva clambered onto the apron, screaming at Rob, at Randy and at Mick who, as referee, was forced to urge her from her position, giving Randy a split second to capitalize. And capitalize he did. It appeared that Rob wasn't the only participant in the match working on sheer instinct and momentum alone as Randy executed a perfect dropkick to Rob who landed astride the turnbuckle before falling to the canvas, his hands clutching at his genitals as he writhed in pain.

Once again, Lita's heart soared and she instantly jumped from the apron, cursing herself for doing such a thing as her weight pressed down on her injured leg. Once sure that Lita would be of no bother or distraction, Mick turned back to the ring where Rob was – for the umpteenth time – getting to his feet but Randy was much faster than he, the St. Louis native striking at almost lightning speed as he hit his finishing manoeuvre – the R.K.O.

For three seconds, Lita held her breath and her heart pounded each time Mick's hand beat the canvas. Once. Twice. Thrice. And suddenly she felt sick.

He had done it. Randy Orton was the new Intercontinental Champion and, damn, did he know it. The twenty-three-year-old collapsed to his knees almost the second Mick handed him the title, his head pressed against the canvas and the belt clutched close to his chest as he began to cry. She knew he would be chided for it, that Hunter and Dave and Ric would most likely make him regret behaving like such a fool but he had won. He was a champion. He was Randy Orton – Intercontinental Champion. And then he felt it – the tug on his hand as Lita tried to pull him to his feet. "You did it, champ," she said softly as he attempted to move into a standing position, his legs giving way on his first try. "Come on." She encouraged as, finally, he made it to his feet, the diva tugging at his title belt.

Looking back on it, she would never understand what possessed her to do it but she would always blame it on the adrenaline from the match because, inexplicably, she found herself fastening the title around Randy's waist of her own accord, grabbing his hand and, though her ribs screamed in protest at the movement, holding it high in victory as the crowd erupted, making their anger at the new champion obvious.