Underneath It All
(7/?)
Author: Jen
E-mail:
Rating: PG-13 (sensitive subject matter)
Category: WWE/Drama
Characters: Stacy Keibler, Randy Orton, John Cena, Lilian Garcia… and others.
Spoilers: None
Summary: After being discovered in the bathroom, where does Stacy go from here?
Note: This is fiction and is in no way a reflection of Stacy in real life, or anyone else for that matter.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, they all belong to themselves and the WWE, respectively. Please do NOT steal my fiction, plagiarizing is mean.
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Stacy remained in the middle of the male roster's locker room for a long moment, her mind spinning. As she stood there, eyes wandering between the two men that she'd encountered by pure chance, she ran a hand through her long locks. Both men had remained silent, allowing her a moment or two to get her thoughts and bearings together. One of the two men knew just what kind of trouble she was in—the exact kind of demons that she was trying to fend off. While the other man that had seated himself, deep blue gaze swimming with confusion, was clueless.
"Are gonna come fill me in?" The concerned voice of Randy Orton interjected into her thoughts after several minutes of silence. He wasn't quite trying to push her, but the silence had begun to get more than a bit unnerving and he didn't know how much more he could take without something being said.
"Is it really necessary that he be here?" The leggy blonde inquired after a moment, her eyes locking on Randy before they wandered back to the man that had caught her praying before the porcelain God. It seemed as though John was deep in thought for a moment, before he simply nodded his head, assuring her that Randy did in fact need to be there through all of this. "What the hell?!" Instead of sitting down with her two peers, the blonde stalked around the locker room before finally stopping in front of them, having had more than enough time to process what their illegitimate expectations of her were. "Why does it matter, why does he need to be here? And why do I need to even be arguing over this with you? You don't even know me! You never gave a damn, and all of a sudden you come in riding on a horse like a God damn white knight, and I'm supposed to be the damsel in distress that is just so grateful that you've come to save the day! Well damn it, I'm not grateful and I'm sure as hell not a damsel in distress."
"Stacy, nobody here thinks that you're a damsel in distress. We know that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, it's just that—"
"If you know that I'm capable of taking care of myself, Randy, let me take care of myself! God! You have got to be the most irrational men that I've met in my entire life."
"Maybe so, Stacy girl…" John spoke, finally having interrupted the verbal exchange between the two. "Maybe we are irrational, but even if I wasn't an irrational and thick-headed ass like you tend to think I am, if I'd walked in and seen what I saw today, I'd be more than just a little concerned."
Stacy threw her head back in frustration, running her nimble digits over her face as she groaned into her hands. This was getting her nowhere. "I was nauseous and this was the closest bathroom." She told them quietly, removing her hands from her face before glancing at them, the discomfort that she was feeling beginning to grow.
"I saw you walk in here, Stace. Calm as could be. You weren't sick—at least, not until you made yourself, sick. You've got a problem, girl, and—"
"Don't preach to me, Cena, not ever." Her cinnamon eyes flashed with anger once again, the fear that had once been there upon knowing that John had discovered her no longer there. It was replaced with anger. And with that anger she spun on her heels, making headway for the door so that she could get away from John, not to mention Randy and the scrutinizing gaze of both men. Stacy knew that the more that they looked at her, the more that they studied her body they would think she was too thin in one part, too corpulent in another.
Randy glanced between John and Stacy for a moment before rising to his feet and quickly closing in the distance that separated him from Stacy. "Stace, wait."
Clenching her jaw together tightly, the long-legged diva spun around on her heels, now up close and personal with none other than Randy Orton. "What?" She asked him, attitude and annoyance coating not only the word that had slipped past her lips, but her expression as well as she met his gaze.
"I think, uh…" Randy gulped the lump in his throat having never seen quite the level of anger that she was expressing now in the woman before him. He'd seen her irritated with him, seen her ill-tempered, among other things. But the look of vehement anger in her eyes right now was discerning to say the least. "I think maybe you should… listen to what John has to say."
"Enlighten me, Randy… why the hell would I sit back down when the only thing that is going to come from this is more anger and more judgment?"
John sighed slowly from her he sat, taking the cap on his hat and adjusting it before he slowly spoke. "We're not judgin' you, Stacy, we want to help you but you won't allow us to do that, now will you? Because letting us help, letting anyone help would mean admitting to yourself that there is somethin' wrong, and that abusin' your body like this isn't normal, and it's not right."
"Shut up. Shut up… just… shut up!" The steadiness in her voice had quickly faded, and the longer that she listened to him the more that she felt like she might just break down. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm herself. She needed to compose herself because if she didn't then she was going to have to deal with breaking down in front of them. Having them discover what had truly been going on with her had been difficult, but to allow them to see her at her breaking point would be more than she could ever possibly handle.
"What's the problem here?" Hearing the familiar voice at her ear she didn't know whether to be excited, or to flinch at the mere sound. The two men before her had threatened to tell Jay, Chris, and all of the others. That was, if she didn't talk about it. But they had talked about it, but just the same she knew that it wouldn't be the end.
"Nothing." Stacy muttered quietly as she turned around and offered Jay a half-smile as he studied her with a confused expression throughout his features.
"Trish was lookin' for you, she's over in the locker room." With a nod Stacy silently slipped from the male roster's locker room, praying that would be the end of that topic for a long time to come—but knowing deep down that it wasn't.
This was only the beginning. So, plastering a jovial smile on her face the tall diva entered the locker room, deciding to try to leave all that had been said and done behind, but knowing that it wasn't just in the past—it was in the future.
