Title: Make It Better

Rated: M (Mature)

Genre(s): Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Pair(s): Jericho/Phil, John/Phil, Jeff/Adam

Summary: Sequel to Please, Don't Leave Me. Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.

Warning: Slash

Part: 10/?

OOOO

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw the GM leave Phil's locker room. And, to make matters worse, there was blood on his hands. "What the hell were you doing in my husband's locker room, Laurinaitis?" Chris hissed.

"Relax, Irvine." The GM answered calmly. "The poor kid bit his lip ring. There was blood everywhere. So, I handed him a towel and that was the end of it."

"Why don't I believe that?" Chris asked, before his eyes narrowed as the corner of John's mouth twitched.

"Whether you chose to believe it or not, that's the truth."

Chris watched as the GM walked away, wondering whether or not he should follow him and demand the truth. However, when he heard a muffled whimper from inside the locker room, all thoughts of John Laurinaitis went on the back burner. He needed to be there to help his baby, whether the younger man wanted him to be there or not. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to knock on the door. At the last second, he threw caution to the wind and stormed inside. Phil didn't even hear him come in.

His heart twisted at what he saw. The Second City Saint sat on the floor, the fresh white towel pressed to his face quickly absorbing all of the blood which flowed from his torn lip. His pale body was littered with bruises, and even some areas of his face were red and swollen. And he still smelled like 'a dirty, sleezy bar'. Gently, Chris knelt down beside the wounded man and touched a hand to his shoulder. Quickly, Phil flinched away as if he had been burned. Terrified olive eyes stared at him uncertainly, as if Chris would attack him at any moment.

"Phil…" Chris slowly reached forward, and when the back of his hand made contact with Phil's cheek, he stroked the soft flesh. "Baby-boy…"

"What do you want, Chris?" Phil asked, sounding defeated.

Chris tried to smile, but failed. "What happened to you, baby-boy?"

Phil shook his head, carefully removing the towel so that he could see the amount of blood that had been shed. It had soaked almost half the towel, and it wasn't done. "I just bit my lip ring. That's all. It doesn't really matter."

"What about all the bruises? Who did this to you?" Chris' free hand trailed down, dancing across the bruises carefully. Phil hissed, squeezing his eyes closed as he pressed a little too hard in certain areas, but he allowed the man to continue. "Was it Henry?"

"N-No… it wasn't Henry. And it doesn't matter. I'm fine." Phil lied. Chris could tell that it was a lie by the way Phil's voice trembled.

"Was it Laurinaitis?" Chris asked calmly.

Stormy olive-colored eyes blew wide. "No! Of course not. What reason would the GM have to hurt me?"

"Are you sure?" Chris asked.

Phil nodded slowly. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I should really just learn when to shut up. If I could filter half of the shit that came out of my mouth, maybe I wouldn't be in this situation."

"Baby-boy…" Chris reached down and took hold of Phil's wrists. "It does matter. It matters to me. You matter to me."

"Why do you care so much?"

Chris kissed the back of his hand affectionately. "I care because I love you, baby-boy. You. Are. My. World. I honestly don't know what I would do without you."

Phil lowered his eyes. "If you loved me so much, why would you hurt me like this? Why would you ever willingly hurt me?"

To be honest, Chris wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. He knew that there were a million ways to be a better husband – to turn down Creative's idea for the storyline, to stand between Henry and Phil in their match because he knew that Henry was out to hurt him, to not break his vow of sobreity on live television. But he had done none of these things. Instead, he had belittled him and humilated him. He had made him hurt. He had been that schoolyard bully that Phil was so afraid of. And he hated himself for it.

Carefully, he reached out and took the Second City Saint into his arms. Phil fidgeted around for a few moments, not wanting to be so close to someone that he was currently so mad at. But then Chris kissed the back of his head, right over where the bottle would have connected. Right then, he didn't care that Phil smelled like he had had a horrible bender. He didn't care that he was bloodied and battered. This was still the man that he loved, and he would take care of him this time.

Slowly, he helped Phil to stand and eased him out of his trunks. There was nothing sexual about his actions, simply the want to take care of his baby and make him feel better. The two walked over to the shower stall, and Chris set the water on warm. Not even bothering to take his own clothes off, he lathered the soap on his hands and started to clean the beer and blood off of the perfect skin. Phil watched him, utterly confused and amazed at the same time. This was the man that he said that he hated, the man he said that he didn't want to be married to anymore… and yet he came back, and wanted to help him.

"I love you." A kiss to the cheek. "I love your smell." A kiss to the forehead. "I love your eyes." A kiss to the nose. "I love your mouth – even if it does cause trouble occasionally." A kiss to the cheekbone. "But most of all… I love your smile. Would you smile for me? Please, Philly?" When the small smile came, Chris kissed the bloody lips.

When his body was cleaned, Chris broke out the shampoo and lathered it. Gently, he reached up and started to massage his baby's scalp. Phil moaned, his body practically going limp in Chris' arms as the older man continued his minstrations. Chris knew full-well that that had always been a weakness of Phil's. Carefully, he rised out the goregous ravenette locks and turned the water off, tossing a towel in for Phil. Leisurely, the Second City Saint dried himself off, wandering back to his locker room to dress.

"I'm sorry that I ever hurt you." Chris said, still wet from their shower. Unlike Phil, he had no clothes to turn to. "I know that there is no way for me to head back in time and change the past. But if I could, I would."

Hesitantly, Phil looked at him. "I know that."

"Then… please… I know that I shouldn't really be able to ask you for anything, but I only have one small request." Chris said. "Please, Phil."

"What is it, Chris?"

Chris lowered his eyes. "Tell me that you love me too."

"I don't know if I ca-,"

"Please," there was a raw honesty in Chris' voice that made Phil tremble. "Try. Please."

Phil looked him over once, before he answered. "I love you too."

OOOO

A/N: Sorry for the late update, but I hope you liked it! So, Chris already has his suspicions about the GM. What will it take to send the GM over the line, and possibly seriously hurt Phil? And will Chris find out in time? Find out in the future chapters! Please Review!