Bound and Chained: Edge of Reason
Chapter Nine

It was a long four months before brother and sister spoke again. And it was four, uncomfortable months for all those involved.

It wasn't that they didn't speak to each other at all, but their conversations were short, and always had to do with match strategy. They wouldn't even so much as mutter an excuse me to each other when they would block each other's progress in the locker room. And it wasn't just that she could switch locker rooms or refuse to walk out with him. Lauren had gone to Steve Austin about to, had pleaded with him, and was told that she was "shit outta luck" as far as he was concerned. Whenever she could, she walked out with Christian, but she also had to walk out with her brother whenever he had a match, if she wasn't injured.

There had been two more incidents of her getting injured in those four months, though neither was as bad as the first time. She had been used as a shield once by Chris, thinking that if his opponent who happened to be Edge that night had seen her standing there, he would stop, but he couldn't stop his momentum. She had caught the clothesline closer to her throat than on her chest and had glared for a good week at her brother, using her raspy voice and showing off the slight bruising whenever she could. The second was when she had been distracted at ringside by something that was shouted out in the crowd, and when her head had turned, a referee had been thrown from the ring and slammed into her, causing her head to slam into the padded security barrier. She found out that it certainly wasn't as padded as she thought it was. That night had left her with a concussion and an on-again, off-again headache for a few days.

For the most part, however, Lauren was left alone by Jericho's opponents. She had a habit of climbing in the ring every now and then and pulling the same trick she had: wait for the referee to see her, throw a weak punch or kick at his opponent and cost him the match, all while staring her brother down. There weren't many people that got angry with her for it, because her punches and kicks were half-hearted, only enough to get her brother disqualified, and the general consensus of the locker room was that Chris Jericho was an asshole that deserved to lose every chance he got. She had kept up on her ring training with Christian, but she had yet to actually use an offensive or defensive move against anyone, other than her punch or kick.

She stayed out of matches that involved Christian, such as the tag team match for the title belts. They hadn't won, the Hardys had retained their belts, and Austin stopped booking the two men in tag matches, Instead, Christian had been vying for a number one contenders spot for the Intercontinental title, held by none other than his own brother Edge, and Chris...well, Chris wasn't wrestling for any title. He was just wrestling.

Thier locker room was certainly divided. Christian and Lauren were still as thick as thieves, possibly closer than they were before, while Chris usually left the room and went elsewhere. The times that all three were together would have been amusing to an outsider that just happened to walk into the room. When they looked at each other, trying to avoid each other's eyes, Chris would look almost sorrowful, like he wanted to say something to her but didn't want to be the one to break the uncomfortable silence. Lauren, on the other hand, would glower at him, staring daggers at his back.

And then, the one thing happened that Lauren was most frightened about. Christian was injured in a match. He had landed awkwardly after being thrown by his much larger opponent, halfway across the ring, and while he had still picked up the win, there was no denying that his left hand and wrist had been bothering him. The trainers backstage had sent him to a local emergency room to get it checked out, and the news hadn't been promising: a sprained wrist and a bone in the hand broken in two places, expect to be out for three to four weeks to allow for healing. He had been fitted with a plaster splint, given a bottle of painkillers, lost his place in the contender's race, and was sent home to rest up. Which left Lauren alone.

The road became a very lonely place for Lauren. She had gone to talk to Austin, who had treated her a hell of a lot more kindly since she started to cost her brother his matches, and had asked for time off as well. He had essentially laughed in her face and sent her on her way, telling her again that no matter what her problems with Chris were, she was still his valet, and they still had to share a locker room. She had sneered and flounced out of the room, and just to spite her boss that night, who had told her he enjoyed seeing her get in the ring and interfere, she had stood at ringside, completely immobile, while Chris picked up the pinfall in his match.

She had no travel partner, no friend to sit in the passenger seat and endlessly flip through radio stations while looking for something good, no one to hang out with before and after shows, no one to climb in the ring with her as soon as it was set up and roll around in a pretence of training. Her scowl rarely left her face. Her hotel rooms were changed to single bookings, she drove the rental cars herself, and she devoured a large number of books, on Christian's recommendations, while on airplanes or waiting for the show to start. She reasoned that she was becoming as voracious a reader as Christian was, despite the fact that she rarely read for pleasure.

They traded phone calls back and forth, usually on her new cell phone before the show, but they quickly died down, what with Christian's annoyance at being injured and forced to sit around at home, and Lauren's growing depression at being left alone on the road with nothing but an angry brother and a boss that she didn't trust.

She had been with the WWF for almost six months in total, making Chris's life a living hell as best she could for six whole months, before Austin brought her into his locker room one night to discuss another contract with her.

Lauren stared down at paper with a confused look. "My contract isn't up," she told him, before putting it down on her lap. "We had a deal for a year. That's all."

Austin grunted as he sat down across from her. "Uh huh. That's an extension."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, but we had a deal for twelve months, nothing more and nothing less. I've come, my brother is fine other than being a raging jackass, and I've fulfilled my end of the bargain thus far. I have no intentions of staying with the WWF. I plan on going back to law school and finishing."

Cocking his head, Steve Austin gave her a cold smile. "From what I hear, you ain't got no more financial help with that. Seems that your half-brother doesn't want anything to do with you anymore. Not to say that I could blame him, considering everything you've done to make sure he loses. And I like it. You've got spunk. You've got a bit of fire in you."

"Thanks," she said drily.

His eyebrows raised. "Now, that was a compliment that I gave you, Lauren. You may treat your brother like that, but you should respect me. Don't forget, I'm in control of your time here."

She bit back a comment about how he was dancing on the edge of blackmail, and instead, plastered a smile on her face. "Thank you," she tried again.

"That's better." Austin nodded towards the contract. "Now, let's try this again. That is an extension to your contract. In case you hadn't noticed, in your contract, there's an option to renew. I get first dibs. And I think you should stick around a little longer. Besides, you're gonna need money for school, aren't you?"

"No offense, sir, but this is making me feel like a damned prostitute." She lifted the paper from her lap and put it down beside her on the couch. "I'm sorry, I don't want to be here anymore. I'm going to fulfill the remaining obligation of my contract and that's it. After that, I'm going back home and I'm going back to school. I already sent for paperwork for a student loan. My credit is good. I may have to pay for it the rest of my life, but I'll get it."

Another grunt. "You've never had to work for anything in your life, have you, other than getting decent grades in school."

Her eyes narrowed. "How did you know that? About my grades, I mean?"

The look he gave her was clear: you're an idiot. She bristled when she saw it. "You're in law school, aren't you? I'd think that you'd need some sort of decent grades to get in there to begin with. But besides that, you haven't had to work for anything. You've had everything handed to her, probably by your dad, and now by your brother. Except no one...no one but me...is handing you anything anymore."

"And what am I being handed now? Another year of fighting with Chris, of getting thrown around the ring like a rag doll, of a whole arena full of people calling me a bitch and a slut? Yeah, that sounds like a life that I really want." She shook her head, brushing her hair out of the way when it fell into her eyes. "Like I said, I signed a one year contract. I will fulfill the obligations of my contract, but beyond that, I'm done. I hate this place. I hate everything about this place. I don't like the travel, I don't like the people, I don't like anything here. And when my contract is up, I'm probably going to celebrate. Hell, I'm gonna throw a party."

A cold smile started to spread on his face. "And what about your little friend?"

"Who, Christian? I probably wouldn't have even given him a second look had I met him elsewhere. I'll miss him. I miss him now, but that's what phones and e-mail are for." She laughed suddenly, derisively. "It doesn't matter what you try. I'm not signing another contract. Or an extension, whatever the hell you want to call it. It's as simple as that."

"You're sure about that?" he asked.

Standing up, Lauren nodded her head. "I'm sure. Are we done?"

Later that night, she shouldn't have been so sure. Later that night, she started to kick herself for what she had said. Because she should have known better. She had seen many sides of Steve Austin since she had started to work for him, but the side he usually showed was his more sadistic side. His angry side. The side that reappeared that night.

It wasn't long after her meeting with Austin that she popped down to the catering area, intent on getting a cup of coffee and checking the match listings that were posted outside the door. She had smiled when she saw that Chris wasn't scheduled to wrestle anyone that night, and had cheerfully returned to the locker room, gathered her stuff, and had informed him that she was going back to the hotel, since he "wasn't important enough to actually get a match" on the show.

Back at the hotel, she had turned on the television and switched to the channel that was going to be playing Raw later that night, and had bided her time until the show, filling in the word search in a local newspaper, taking a shower, and reading another few pages of the latest book recommendation that Christian had given her. When the show had started, she alternated her time between reading and watching, never keeping her attention of either for more than a few minutes. As much as she didn't want to admit it, after spending six months with the company, she was becoming more and more a fan of wrestling, even if she really didn't want a part in it herself.

The first match barely garnered her attention, a women's fight between Lita and Trish Stratus, a beautiful blonde that Lauren had yet to run into backstage. She muttered to herself about Trish being a Barbie doll wannabe and went back to her book, frustrated that she wasn't finding it as interesting as her friend had. It wasn't until after the match was over that Lauren's attention was brought back to the television.

"And later tonight," one of the commentator's was saying, "Chris Jericho will go one-on-one against the seven foot, three hundred pound Kane."

On the one hand, she was amused. Chris, compared to regular people, was pretty big. Compared to those in the wrestling industry, he was considered small. At only six feet tall, he had to look up to a majority of the locker room. Having to look up and stare at a seven foot tall man would be amusing. But on the other hand, she was pissed, and grabbed her cell phone from where she had left it on the night stand, finding his number in her directory.

She waited for him to pick up, and when he didn't, she waited for his voice mail. "Hey. You've got me. Leave me a message, I'll get back to you."

Rolling her eyes at his brief message, she heard the beep and started to unleash. "You jackass. The least you could've done is call me to let me know that the match listings changed. If I get in trouble for not being there, I swear to God, I'm gonna kill you. I don't have enough time to make it back there now. You suck. Oh, and, uh, good luck tonight," she added snidely before hanging up and dropping the phone beside her. She could only imagine what Austin's reaction was going to be when she wasn't there to walk out with him.

She sat through half of the show, her arms crossed under her breasts and a sulking expression on her face, glowering at the television screen. If she couldn't be there to see it live and in person, she could at least watch as her brother got his ass handed to him by the much larger and stronger man.

She perked up a bit when Kane's music started to play and he appeared at the top of the ramp. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the theatrics of the entrance, what with the flames coming from the ringposts, but she knew that if she had happened to be outside the ring during then, she probably would have jumped and screamed, much to the amusement of everyone around. She narrowed her eyes again as the music shut off and a long moment of silence started.

Chris's theme started to play, and the ring announcer began introducing him, but when the lights came up, he was nowhere to be found. She snorted as she watched, wondering if maybe he had left the arena that night as well after finding out that he didn't have a match. A smile started to grow on her face as she thought about how she could take advantage of a little trick like that when they started to play his music again, in hopes that he would come out.

But he didn't, and instead, the camera focused on the large screen over the ramp, where it focused on one of the open locker room doors. She started to chuckle, thinking about how pissed Austin was going to be when the camera showed that there was no one and nothing in the room, Chris probably in his hotel room and sleeping, when the laughter died on her lips. Because there was someone in the locker room, and the bottom of the boots looked very familiar to Lauren. Her eyes widened and she leaned forward on the bed, wanting to yell at the camera operator to move faster and show the entire room. And when he did, she regretted it.

The place had been suitably trashed. The small table that had been in there was broken in half, a chair thrown haphazardly across the room and with a large dent in it that she assumed would match the size of her brother's head. His familiar looking duffel bag was in the middle of the floor, and his clothes spilling out of it. She turned away when she saw blood and heard her cell phone ring.

"Yeah?" she asked as she answered it, not looking down at the caller identification screen.

"You're okay," Christian said on the other end. "Are you at the arena?"

"No," she said softly. "Chris didn't have a match tonight. I went back to the hotel. It's bad, isn't it? I can't look."

He sighed on the other end of the line. "It probably just looks worse than it is. It's okay, they went to commercial. You don't have to keep your eyes closed."

"Worse than it looks? I saw blood. That's gotta be pretty damned bad," she told him.

He was quiet for a good minute, and when he finally did speak, he sounded tentative. "Lauren, do me a favour. Actually, do yourself one. Check on him. Make sure he's okay." She remained silent, not even the sound of her breathing transmitting over the phone line. "He's your brother. I know that you guys aren't getting along, but he's still your brother. Put all of this bullshit behind you and go see him."

Lauren plucked at the coverlet of the bed, frowning. "You sound like a complete hypocrite. I hope you realize that," she said softly, her discomfort evident in her voice.

"I know. But you and Chris are different from me and my brother. And I know you, at least well enough to know that you won't be calm until you see that he's okay. Please, Lauren. Do the right thing here."

"What if he's not okay?" she whispered.

"He will be."

It had taken four phone calls until Lauren got the news that she wanted: Chris had been sent to a local emergency room by the backstage medical staff, in order to be examined and treated for signs of concussion. She managed to get ahold of one of the trainers, who had accompanied Chris to the hospital, and received a phone call around midnight, informing her that he had been diagnosed with a grade one concussion, was stitched up in two places, and was being sent back to the hotel. As soon as she hung up, she hurried down to the hotel lobby with as much personal identification as she had with her, and lucked out by talking with a sympathetic desk clerk who happened to be a wrestling fan. Within minutes, she had secured a key card to her brother's room and went back up to wait for him.

Forty minutes after the last phone call, she was perched uncomfortably on the end of the bed, biting her lip and tugging on her hair when the door to the room finally opened. She heard a soft curse from her brother and jumped up, rushing to the door. As it closed and he looked up, she ran at him, throwing her arms around his waist. "You're okay," she breathed. "Jesus, Christopher, I was so worried."

He stood there for a moment, his arms at his sides, before he finally relented with a sigh, returning her frantic hug. "This is what it takes for you to talk to me again? I should've gotten myself beat up weeks ago." She laughed against his chest and he wasn't surprised to hear her sniffle. "C'mon, Lauren. Much as I appreciate this, I really need to sit down."

She hurriedly released him and stepped to the side as he started past her, limping and wincing. As soon as he was sitting down, she looked over him with a critical eye. "You're still wearing your tights."

He groaned and pushed his hair out of his face, making a face when he felt the stitches in his forehead pull at the motion. "Yeah, nothing more manly than walking through the hotel lobby at one in the morning, wearing spandex. One of the trainers grabbed my bag. I can pick it up in the morning." He paused and took a deep breath, leaning forward to start unstrapping his shin guards, making a face at the protest of his bruised and pulled muscles. "Can you get my other glasses out of my bag? I can't see a fucking thing, and I lost my contacts sometime tonight. And maybe something to change into, too, if you don't mind."

"No, no, of course not," she said, going over to his suitcase. She found the other pair of eyeglasses that he carried with him for emergency purposes, stacking it atop the underwear, sweatpants, and tee shirt that she grabbed. When she turned back, he had removed the shin guards and one of his boots, leaning back to take a break before starting again. Making a face at him, she left the bundle beside him and knelt down near his feet, making quick work of removing the other boot and helping to tug down his knee pads. "Do you need help getting changed?" she asked.

He twirled a finger. "Turn around. I can do this, it'll just be slow going." She turned and kept her back to him, patiently waiting until he said he was finished. Lauren spun around to see Chris sitting on the bed, having changed into everything but the tee shirt. Making a face, she went over to the heater in the room and turned it up slightly to compensate for the fact that he hadn't put on the shirt. "Thanks, Laurie."

She looked down and twisted her fingers together. "No problem. So, what did they say? At the hospital, I mean."

"I have the rest of the week off, and barring any complications, I can be back to work next Monday. I'm gonna book a flight back home, go see my own doctor. Guess that means you're off for the week, too, since Christian and I are both off now." He smiled, and it was a bit strained. "Look, um, I'm not really supposed to be alone tonight, just in case. I signed out against medical advice, 'cause it's only a concussion, but - "

Lauren waved a hand, cutting him off. "No, it's completely cool. I can stay here with you." She laughed suddenly, softly. "It's going to be the first time since that stupid trip up to the cabin when I was a kid that we're going to have to share a bed. You don't still snore, do you?"

"Better question is if you still do," he said in return, his smile becoming a little more genuine. She laughed as she rounded the bed, pulling back the covers for both of them. Chris caught her wrist in his hand, stopping her movements. "Yeah?"

"We need to talk, but I can't do it tonight. Come back to Florida with me, stay at my house. Or get a hotel room, if you're not comfortable with that. But come back with me. We have a lot of stuff to work through. And there's a few things that you probably need to know about me."

Lauren nodded, pulling her hand away from him. "All right. But if we kill each other in the meantime, don't blame me."

The only response she got was the megawatt, shit eating grin that Chris Jericho was so well known for.