A/N: Yay for a new chapter! Sorry about the wait; I've had writer's block issues with other stories, plus the world's busiest semester drop-kicking me in the face right from the start. (I'm sure that I'm mixing my metaphors, but who cares?) Anyway, here it is and it's finished, and hopefully you enjoy!
Thank you to Writinglove101, Ashleymassarophan1, CerebralPrincess, littleone999, Raven serotonin, xAttitudex, Batista Addicts, rory21, justbornawsome, and ShannonxMoore'sxLoverx for reviewing the last chapter! You are AWESOME! Peace!
Chapter 26: Lie To Me
Ashley drifted weightlessly through a sea of unconsciousness. She couldn't see or hear anything; the only sensation she could feel was darkness pressing against her from all sides. The rookie Diva tried to move her arms and legs, but found that she couldn't—her body seemed to have lost its form.
Her brain, on the other hand…freed from all physical and conscious restraints, it fairly hummed with activity. Even as she floated passively through this unending blackness, her mind was far from inactive. Thoughts were emerging from her subconscious; ideas and half-crazed notions that had plagued her for two months were coming into focus with absolute clarity. For the first time since debuting in the WWE, she understood everything. She knew what was happening to her; all these weird events and incidents. She knew who was responsible.
Most importantly—she knew why it was happening.
But the rookie Diva wasn't afraid; far from it, in fact. Here, in this state of dreamlike unreality, there was nothing to fear. She was warm and protected here, locked inside a place where no one could reach her. No one could touch her here. No one could hurt her here. She was safe, she was safe…
Ash?…Ash, can you hear me?...
She could hear her name being called from a great distance. Light appeared at the edges of her vision, and Ashley felt herself being drawn toward the source of the illumination, like a swimmer buoyed to the surface of the water. The Diva Search winner tried to resist, but with nothing to grab onto, nothing to slow her progress, she had no choice but to relent to the insistent pull of approaching consciousness.
As the darkness receding further and further away from her, however, so did her awareness; her newfound knowledge of what was happening to her. At this, the Diva Search winner began to panic. Without this understanding, she would be powerless; unable to defend herself against what was destined to happen. But the more she tried to hold on to her thoughts, the more easily they slipped from her grasp, melting away into nothingness, leaving her just as ignorant and clueless about her fate as before.
C'mon, Ash…wake up…
In the moments before she crossed the line into full wakefulness, the rookie Diva had one final self-reflexive thought: the realization that once she opened her eyes, she would remember absolutely nothing—
Ashley opened her eyes.
Three concerned faces stared down at her. For a second or two, the Diva Search winner thought that she was still dreaming; why else would Trish Stratus, Wonder Woman, and an angel be standing over her? Her momentary confusion passed, however, when she realized that it was merely her friends, clad in their Halloween costumes.
Trish bent down a little further, her beautiful face creased with concern. "Ash? Are you all right? Say something."
Ashley tilted her head to the side, studying the Women's Champion thoughtfully. Slowly, she raised her hand, pointing her index finger at her mentor. "I had this weird dream…and you were in it…and you…and you—"
The other Divas sighed in evident relief. Trish rolled her eyes toward the ceiling good-naturedly. "Ha ha, very funny." The Canadian beauty pressed one hand to her chest. "Jesus Christ—warn me the next time you keel over, okay? You almost gave me a heart attack."
Ashley raised her shoulders up in a tiny shrug. "Sorry." Her voice sounded strange in her ears; so small and weak. The rookie Diva lifted her head off the floor a little, trying to see the rest of the room. "Candice isn't here…is she?"
"What? Candice?" Trish followed Ashley's line of sight, glancing back over her shoulder briefly. "Don't worry; she's still out there prancing around, pretending to be Catwoman." The Women's Champion bent down, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, I walked in the bathroom, and she was there, crawling around on the floor—"
"Look, no offense, I'm sure this is a great story," the Diva Search winner interrupted. "But could I hear it when I'm not lying flat on my back? I'm starting to feel like Candice on any given night."
Trish let out a very un-Diva-like snort of laughter. "You must be feeling better." She extended both of her hands toward Ashley. "Grab on." The rookie Diva did so, and with Trish's help, was able to pull herself back up onto her feet. The sudden shift in equilibrium made her head swim, and she quickly sank down onto a nearby bench.
Maria immediately scampered toward the makeup table. "Don't move; I'll get you some water!" the backstage reporter chirped.
Ashley nodded absently, raising one hand to her forehead. As she did so, she realized that the motion felt odd, as though her body had somehow become less…unwieldy. The Diva Search winner craned her neck around to look over her shoulder, comprehension finally dawning. "Wings…where are my wings?"
"Don't worry!" Maria called out from across the room. "They're fine; I took them off you." The backstage reporter returned to Ashley's side, bottle of water in hand, which the rookie Diva gratefully accepted. "You're lucky, you know that?" the former Diva Search contestant continued. "You didn't fall on your wings, and you didn't fall on your face. I couldn't do that even if I tried."
"Yeah…"Ashley remarked absently, only half-listening. "Lucky me…" She twisted the plastic cap off, chugging a few generous swallows of water, before pressing the cool plastic container to her forehead. She still felt woozy, and a little sick, but no longer like she had lost control of her body. Ashley closed her eyes, trying to remember, trying to recall what she had see in the black void of her unconscious. She knew that it had been important…but what was it? For one moment, the tiniest flicker of awareness flared up, and she could almost see it, could almost glimpse the faint outline of the thought. But in the next instant, that understanding burned out, skittering back into the darkness and out of her reach.
The rookie Diva opened her eyes, and in doing so, inadvertently locked gazes with Trish. Ashley abruptly felt her insides twist into a hard painful knot. The Women's Champion was clearly still worried, but she also had that look on her face; that half-questioning, half-accusing countenance that Ashley hated. She had seen that expression once before, back when Trish had first grilled her about the nature of her relationship with Randy Orton. And she knew with a dreadful certainty that like last time, Trish would not stop until she had obtained the answers that she wanted.
Even if it meant forcing Ashley to say things she would rather die than openly admit.
The Canadian beauty's gaze slid away from hers for a second, focusing on nothing. No one had said anything, but the tension level in the room had ratcheted up several notches. Off to the side, Ashley heard Maria back away nervously. Only Mickie seemed unconcerned, glancing from Ashley to Trish and back again with obvious interest.
Trish's eyes abruptly swung back to meet Ashley's, breaking her mental reverie. Another long moment elapsed before the Women's Champion opened her mouth to speak. "So…" Trish began. "What happened?"
It was only three words, but in those three words, the Diva Search winner could hear everything. Beyond the concern and the worry…there was a matter-of-factness to Trish's voice, as though she already knew the answers to her questions. And mixed with that calm neutrality…there was accusation. Subtle…but there nonetheless.
Ashley forced a smile onto her face. It hurt, and she knew that the pain was showing. Her mouth grew dry, and it took all the inner strength she had left to swallow and force the words out. "Must have been low blood sugar or something. I didn't have that much to eat today…" The rookie Diva's voice trailed off into nothingness, as she realized the futility of this false explanation.
Trish knew the truth; even Maria and Mickie had to know by now that she was hiding something. The only reason the Women's Champion hadn't called her out on it was because she had been waiting for Ashley to be the one to admit it. But the Diva Search winner couldn't do that—because telling the truth would have also meant admitting that she was living a lie.
And Ashley couldn't admit that to anyone…including herself.
Trish tilted her head to the side slightly, her eyes never wavering from Ashley's. "Really?" There was only the faintest note of sarcasm in her voice. "You sure about that? You sure that this didn't have something to do with it?" The Women's Champion raised her hand, and the rookie Diva could see for the first time that she was holding something in it; a very familiar-looking item wrapped in green paper…
The second that Ashley saw the shriveled dead rose blooms, bile climbed up her throat, hot and sour, almost making her gag. The water bottle slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a dull sloshing sound. Maria shrieked, a high shrill sound, jumping back to avoid the rapidly growing puddle of water.
The Diva Search winner didn't notice; she couldn't tear her gaze away from the gruesome-looking bouquet. Her hands shook, and she quickly clamped her fingers around the square edge of the bench, her knuckles flushing white, her nails digging into the processed wood almost hard enough to break.
Trish didn't say anything at first, but her reproachful expression softened slightly. "That's what I thought," the Canadian beauty remarked after a while. Her tone, too, had warmed a little. The Women's Champion turned toward Mickie, holding the bouquet out toward her biggest fan. "Hey, Mick, do me a favor; throw these away, will you?" The normally brunette Diva nodded eagerly, and reached out to accept the flowers. As she did, Trish added: "Not here; out in the hall." Mickie obeyed, pulling open the door and exiting the locker room.
As soon as the door swung shut behind her, Ashley felt the irrational terror drain from her body, leaving her numb and weak. Trish looked tired as well, letting out her breath in a long sigh, her shoulders slumping. The Women's Champion walked slowly over to the makeup counter, placing both hands on its surface and bowing her head. When she spoke, her voice was just as exhausted as her face. "I thought it was over between you and him."
Ashley looked down at the floor, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes. "It is," she whispered. Even though her statement was technically true, her voice sounded so unconvincing that even she didn't believe herself.
"Then what just happened?" Trish shot back. The Canadian beauty whirled around, her countenance full of anger for the first time. She stepped toward the rookie Diva, her movements slow and deliberate, as though she was trying to keep herself from lashing out physically. "Huh? If it's over, then explain for me what just happened." Trish stopped right in front of Ashley, glaring down at the Diva Search winner. "And don't even try and tell me that those flowers came from Matt—look at you! You can't even look me in the face, you little liar!" She bent down, putting her finger under Ashley's chin and forcing her head up. "You promised me that you would end it—"
"I did!" the rookie Diva snapped, swatting Trish's hand away. The Women's Champion looked shocked for a second, but in the next moment, her expression shut down, becoming hard and unreadable. Ashley glared back at her, knowing that she was guilty, but still unwilling to back down. For the first time, she glimpsed the distance between her and Trish, the divide of years and experience that had probably always been there—and she wondered if the two of them could ever truly understand one another.
The Diva Search winner rose to her feet, her eyes still locked with Trish's. "I have tried so hard to stay away from him," she whispered, her voice catching with emotion. That, at least, was not a lie. Ashley went on. "But tell me—please, tell me—what I'm supposed to do when he won't stay away from me."
At this, all the fury drained from Trish's expression, leaving the Women's Champion looking just as tired as Ashley felt. The Canadian beauty looked away. "Shit." she murmured under her breath.
The rookie Diva wanted to add something further, one final comment or retort, but found that she couldn't. Her supply of words had been thoroughly depleted, and the only action she was capable of performing at this point was standing here, arms hanging limply at her sides. Her whole body felt heavy, as though her limbs had been infused with lead.
Trish pressed her hand to her forehead, massaging her temples with her thumb and fingers. "What the hell is going on?" the Women's Champion murmured, but whether she was asking herself or the Diva Search winner, Ashley didn't know.
Mickie pranced down the hall, humming to herself, swinging the bouquet of dead flowers back and forth at her side. She was nearing one of the large blue trash barrels when a figure came racing around the corner from the opposite direction, nearly knocking her over.
The new Diva shrieked, pinwheeling her arms around for support. Matt quickly reached out and grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. "Sorry, Trish," he apologized, his tone distracted. "I didn't—" The elder Hardy brother paused, peering closely at the face of the Diva in front of him. "Oh, wait, my bad, Mickie—didn't recognize you with that wig on."
Mickie smiled, tossing her faux blonde tresses over her shoulder. "No worries!" she replied brightly. "You really think I look like Trish, though?"
"Yeah, sure." Matt glanced over his shoulder, and then back at her. "Listen, Mick…Ashley—I just heard that she fainted. Is she all right?"
The new Diva nodded. "Oh, sure. I mean, she looked kinda pale when I left, but I'm sure she's fine now."
The elder Hardy brother stole another glance over his shoulder. "What happened? Do you know?"
Mickie shrugged nonchalantly. "All I know is that she got these…" She held up the bouquet to punctuate her statement. "…and BOOM! She fainted!" The Raw Diva studied the dead blooms, her forehead furrowing in confused curiosity. "Funny thing, though; Maria said they were still fresh when Ash got them—"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Matt waved his arms vehemently, cutting Mickie off in mid-sentence. "Go back—someone sent Ash flowers!" The self-proclaimed Trish Stratus fan nodded. The elder Hardy brother frowned, glancing from the roses to Mickie. "Who sent them?"
Mickie blinked, her pretty features fixed in a look of genuine bewilderment. "You mean you didn't?" she asked.
Her question had been completely innocent—and yet, it was precisely the wrong thing to say. For a moment, Matt froze. Then, as Mickie watched, the warmth and concern evaporated from his expression, leaving behind a cold unyielding mask. Without another word, Matt released his grip on the Raw Diva's shoulders, spinning around and striding down the hall toward the women's locker room.
Mickie watched him depart, then shrugged, turning back toward the trash barrel. "That was weird…" she remarked to herself. She took exactly two more steps before the awful realization of what she had just done slammed into her, making her pause. The Raw Diva whipped her head around, her countenance full of horror. "Matt!" she screamed. "Matt, wait!"
There was no answer. Letting go of the bouquet, Mickie dashed down the hallway after the elder Hardy brother, hoping she could catch him before he reached the locker room. "Shit!" the Raw Diva wailed. "Trish is gonna kill me!"
The door flew open, eliciting startled squawks from the three Divas. "What the fuck!" Trish exclaimed. "Doesn't anybody knock anymore—" Her voice trailed off into silence when she realized who was on the other side of the door.
Ashley took a step back, her knees trembling. Her heart leaped into her throat, cutting off her words, threatening to cut off her flow of oxygen as well. The expression on Matt's face was terrifying, filled with blank rage. But lurking in his dark eyes…there was hurt. There was genuine pain and hurt, and somehow, that was even scarier than the wrath.
The rookie Diva stole a look over at Trish. What she saw didn't comfort her; the Women's Champion looked just as petrified as she did. But there was something else in her countenance, something in her eyes as she gazed at the elder Hardy brother…
And in that single lucid second, Ashley understood why Trish was so protective of Matt Hardy's heart…
Her revelation ended abruptly as Matt crossed the space between them, grabbing hold of her arm so hard that she was sure he would break it. Her boyfriend leaned down close until they were nose-to-nose, spitting out his words in a terse whisper: "We need to talk—now."
With that, he yanked her toward the door, throwing open the door and shoving her out into the hall. Ashley could hear Trish pleading behind her—" Matt, wait! Please! Calm down!"—but Matt gave no indication that he had heard her. Not that it would have made any difference, anyway. Words were not going to stop the elder Hardy brother. She doubted that anything could at this point.
Besides, this…this was inevitable. She had been awaiting this confrontation since the moment she realized she was in love with a man who wasn't her boyfriend.
Matt loved Lita…the Diva Search winner thought dully to herself. He was with her for six years…but that didn't stop him from putting his hands on her when she betrayed him. That didn't stop him from nailing her with a Twist of Fate inside a steel cage.
And if he could do that to HER…what do you suppose he's capable of doing to ME?...
Matt halted suddenly, swinging Ashley around and practically throwing her against the wall. The rookie Diva's head connected painfully with the cinderblock surface, but she didn't cry out. She was pretty sure this minor pain was only the least of what could befall her.
Matt shoved his face into hers. "So…" he began, his tone only a degree away from a growl. "Who is he?"
Ashley swallowed hard, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. "Matt…" she managed to say. God, she even sounded guilty as hell. "I can explain—"
"Yeah, I think you'd better," Matt interjected brusquely, cutting her off. He leaned closer, pressing his hand on the wall right next to her head. "Starting with who the fuck sent you those flowers."
Even as the words tumbled out of his mouth, however, comprehension flashed across his face; the signal that, somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, a connection had been made. The elder Hardy brother slowly shook his head, his stoic expression momentarily faltering, affording the Diva Search winner a glimpse of the hurt, damaged soul residing within. "No…" Matt whispered. "No…don't tell me that…" Ashley didn't know if he was pleading with her or merely trying to convince himself. Tentatively, she reached out, touching his cheek, but Matt rudely swatted her hand away, his face shutting down once more. He took hold of her upper arms, his fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise. "You told me that there was nothing between you two!"
"There isn't!" Ashley managed to cry. Just hearing herself utter the lie made her heart twist painfully within her chest. She struggled to free herself from the elder Hardy brother's grip. "Would you just listen—"
But Matt was already shaking his head, no longer listening to her, no longer listening to anyone. "Just tell me the truth! Tell me the fucking truth!" He was shouting now, his Southern drawl echoing off the corridor walls. Out of the corner of her eye, Ashley could see a crowd starting to form. Matt let go of her arms, reaching up to grab her chin in his hand. "Or, since you can't seem to do that, lie to me! Lie to me!" Unconsciously, he began to tighten his grip, squeezing her jaw between his fingers. "Tell me that there's nothing going on between you and that piece of shit! Tell me that you're not screwing him behind my back!"
Ashley began to cry, tears streaming down over her cheeks. "Matt…please…" she begged softly. Her boyfriend had become completely unrecognizable. Was this really the sweet guy she had just seen a while ago, the one she had said "I love you" to? This Matt...Ashley had seen him before. In a hotel room, with a love note in his hand...and in a hallway. The rookie Diva remembered that time she had spied him with Lita; the way he had smiled…and the way the red-haired Diva had backed away in fear…
Go to hell?...Oh, I'm GOING to hell…but I'm not going alone…
And she had no doubt that if the ground opened up and Matt was dragged to hell in this very instant, he would take the Diva Search winner with him.
"What's going on here?"
Ashley's eyes widened, and she turned toward the source of the voice. Randy stood only a few feet away. His face was just as cold and emotionless as it had been when she'd last seen him, but there was a tenseness to his body now, as though he was waiting for just the right catalyst to spring him into action.
Matt's dark irises grew wide as well, and without releasing his grip on the rookie Diva, he turned his head, fixing the Legend Killer with a glare. "Why don't you mind your own fucking business?" the elder Hardy brother snarled.
Randy met his stare without flinching, his blue eyes narrowing slightly with evident dislike. His voice, when he spoke, was just as tightly controlled as his body language. "Why don't you back off?" His tone was soft, almost a whisper, but there was no mistaking the implied threat.
By now, the hallway was packed, Superstars from Raw and SmackDown crowding both sides. Randy took no notice of them. His azure gaze flicked toward Ashley, locking onto hers. His stony countenance softened ever-so-slightly. "Ash…" the Legend Killer asked hesitantly. "Are you all right?"
Ashley heard nothing, saw nothing—and yet, she could still sense the exact moment when Matt snapped. The elder Hardy brother let go of her, storming toward Randy. "You sick fuck," he exclaimed through clenched teeth. "You think that you can just take whatever you want, whenever you want, and it doesn't matter who you hurt, so long as you get what you want!"
Matt's hands shot out, catching the Legend Killer in the chest and shoving him back hard. Randy stumbled, but rapidly regained his footing. He made no move to defend himself. The elder Hardy brother went on. "I'm so sick of guys like you; guys who think they can walk all over everyone else, who don't care about anything except themselves!" He punctuated his last word with another shove. This time, the Legend Killer staggered backward into an equipment crate, but still, didn't try to fight back.
Matt grabbed him by the shirt collar, hauling him back up until they were face-to-face. His voice dropped to a cold terse murmur. "You're screwed…did you know that? Once he comes back, you're fucked, and everyone knows it. He's gonna drag you down to hell…but I'm not letting you drag her down with you. Do you hear me? Do you hear me, you fucking piece of shit!" Curling his free hand into a fist, he raised it, preparing to send it smashing into Randy's emotionless expression.
Even though Matt had released his hold on her, Ashley still couldn't move. It was as though his touch had turned her to stone; she could only watch Matt's verbal attack on Randy. But the moment she saw his fist in the air, her paralysis snapped, and she bolted forward, screaming: "No!" At the sound of her voice, the elder Hardy brother hesitated. Ashley wedged her body in front of Randy's like a shield, grabbing onto Matt's arm. "Please, Matt," the Diva Search winner pleaded. "Don't."
Matt tugged his arm free, glaring at her. "Why are you protecting him?" he demanded.
Ashley didn't answer at first; merely let her gaze drift out over the spectators. Everyone was here, from John Cena and the Big Show, to Rey Mysterio and Christian, to—holy shit—Candice and her fucking cat suit. But just beyond the sea of bodies, the rookie Diva thought she glimpsed a familiar flash of vibrant red hair. And Lita's words came echoing back to her…
YOU…are far too much like ME…
The last thing Ashley had wanted was to prove Lita right. And right now, here she was, in a hallway, surrounded by Superstars, watching Matt do it for her. It didn't matter what she had done, because no one was going to look at her the same after this. Even if she hadn't kissed Randy, even if the note had been a prank, even if this whole thing had been a big misunderstanding—it wouldn't matter, because everyone was going to look at her now and see Lita. And not the Diva who had revolutionized the women's division—but the slut.
She could almost hear the locker room gossip now:
Oh, you know that Diva Matt Hardy's dating?
Yeah?
Well, I heard she's screwing Randy Orton?
Really? Well, that doesn't surprise, considering who he USED to date.
What, Lita? Yeah, those punk girls are all alike…
Yeah, what a slut…
The Diva Search winner felt a cold dull anger take hold of her. She didn't deserve this. True, she had done a lot of things wrong in regards to her love life, but she didn't deserve this.
Ashley looked up at Matt, her blue-green eyes locking onto his. "Because everyone is staring at us," she replied through gritted teeth. "And because you're acting completely insane."
Matt flinched, as though she had slapped him. The dark wrath slowly drained from his expression. He took a hesitant step back, but Ashley wasn't finished. "Is this really where you want to have this conversation?" she demanded, moving toward him. "Here? In front of everyone?"
"Ash, I'm sorry—" Matt began, but the rookie Diva cut him off.
"Forget it; I can't do this!" Ashley's voice broke, and she looked back at the elder Hardy brother, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I love you and I want this thing to work—but not like this. Not when you're being a complete psycho." Ashley straightened up, adjusting her corset top with all the dignity she could muster. "Now if you'll excuse me…I have a costume contest to get ready for." Ducking her head, she moved around Matt and through the sea of Superstars, who parted sympathetically to let her pass.
"Ash!" Matt called out after her. "Ashley, wait! I'm sorry!" Getting no response, the elder Hardy brother pressed his lips together in a thin line, turning back toward Randy. The Legend Killer was still half-slumped against the equipment crate for support, staring off at an unseen point in space. Matt looked at him for a second, then without warning, hit him across the face with a hard open-hand slap. Randy's head snapped to the side, but other than that, he gave no indication that he was even aware of what was going on. Matt's mouth curled in disgust. "This is all your fault," he snapped. Without adding anything further, he stormed off in pursuit of the Diva Search winner.
For a few seconds, the Superstars remained where they were, shuffling their feet in place uncomfortably. Gradually, however, they dispersed, returning to their various tasks as though they hadn't just been watching a real-life soap opera. Many of them shot Randy looks as they passed.
None of them were nice.
The Legend Killer ignored all of them, waiting until the corridor was more or less deserted before pulling himself up into a standing position. As he did so, he glanced down the hallway in the direction that Ashley had departed. Randy's stoic mask abruptly crumpled in pain and he pressed his forehead against the wall.
"I know…and I'm sorry…Ash…I'm so sorry…"