A/N: The following chapter was co-written by one of my favorite authors, the lovely and talented MyChaosTheory! Please be sure to check out her page on FF dot Net for some incredible Punklee stories!
This chapter is dedicated to Camille and Rebecca, the creators of the ~Team AJPunk ღ page on Facebook. Going strong one year later. Happy anniversary, gals!
Hard to Handle
Part 20 – The Hunt Begins, Part 2
WWE Monday Night Raw, June 11, 2012 - After the Show
Backstage
Now
Punk was still fairly dazed by the time he finally stumbled his way up the ramp, an arm draped across AJ's shoulders for support. Looking down at her, he knew exactly what those wide, glassy brown eyes were saying trying to say to him- Let's just go back to the hotel. You need to rest, and I don't want you looking for any more trouble then you'll already have to deal with tonight.She could read the unwritten words in his eyes just as easily- You know I'm not leaving this building until I talk to Randy. It was plainly evident that they weren't going to agree (through subtle communication or otherwise) on a course of action, but they didn't have much time to argue, because Punk spotted his reluctant and belligerent savior getting a drink from the water cooler as they entered catering.
The scene from only a few moments ago was fresh in Punk's mind…
The Match- Earlier
Despite the stinging in his ribs from Del Rio's punishing kicks and the ache in his lower back from Chris' last Walls of Jericho that he had managed to break by just barely crawling to the ropes earlier on, Punk could not take his eyes off Daniel Bryan the whole match.
So focused was Punk on his ex-friend that Sheamus, even as he admired a punishing shoulder block that Cena nailed Del Rio with, had to nudge him while they watched in the corner, urging his fellow champion to "get yer head out of yer arse and back in the game."
Yet, it was easier said than done. In the 90 minutes since Daniel made his announcement regarding this stupid $100,000 bounty on his head, he had been jumped twice-once by catering when Drew McIntyre once again tried to make himself a nuisance. Drew managed to get a few good shots in, but Punk left him laying after smashing his head into a nearby fire extinguisher casing, followed up with a solid roundhouse kick upside Drew's head that cold-cocked the former Intercontinental Champion.
Then, as he was heading to gorilla with AJ to await the start of his match, JTG, formerly of the disbanded duo Cryme Time, and Jinder Mahal jumped him from behind, looking to cash in on the bounty. It took a distraction from AJ, who leapt on top of a surprised JTG's back clawing and slapping him, to allow Punk to gain the upper hand, tossing Mahal into a nearby stack of production crates while headbutting JTG as soon as AJ got clear and cracking him between the eyes with a nearby "Slippery When Wet" sign that effectively neutralized him. The altercation left AJ shaken and had her frantically having Punk promise to be careful out there, which he hastily assured her he would be. But the fact of the matter was that he wasn't sure how that was going to happen now. Three attacks in the span of two hours— that had to be a new record for him personally. He even spotted one crazed fan trying to jump the barricade during the match, barreling towards him, only for security to haul the jerk out of the building while he screamed and shouted that he wanted his shot at the money.
This was getting out of hand quickly and it was all Daniel's fault. He had done this, and for what? To prove a point? To get his hands on a title belt? To get the spotlight on him after his failures at WrestleMania against Sheamus and at Over the Limit against Punk? Or because Punk was with his old girlfriend and Daniel's pride just couldn't let that go? Whatever the reason, Punk didn't care. All he knew was this; he was not leaving this ring tonight without getting a piece of Daniel Bryan's ass.
Sheamus read Punk's body language, the way he paced furiously in the corner, how he had shouted at both men to tag him in every time Bryan entered the match opportunistically when either men went down. Granted, Sheamus wanted Del Rio pretty badly, as well, but he was willing to wait it out during this match. But the irate way Punk was acting, he just knew his Straight Edge friend was bound to do something stupid sooner or later.
Off the stiff Five-Knuckle Shuffle by Cena, Del Rio somehow managed to make a desperate hot tag to Daniel. The moment the bearded submission artist entered the ring, Punk lost it, leaping over the top rope past a surprised Cena and tackling Bryan to the ground, and at that moment, chaos exploded. Both Jericho and Del Rio jumped into the ring to get their hands on the WWE Champion, prompting Sheamus and Cena to jump into the fray. The hapless referee had no choice but to call for the bell as the six combatants brawled all over the ring, Sheamus chasing Del Rio through the crowd and Cena brawling with Jericho before Big Show came barreling down to interject himself in the fray, prompting the Cenation leader to trade blows with the World's Largest Athlete all the way up the entrance ramp.
As Punk hammered away on Daniel's face while the smaller man covered up— "You wanna put a bounty on me, huh? You wanna treat me like an animal? You want an animal? You got it, pal!" Punk snarled between punches— he was too blind in his rage to notice Jack Swagger coming out of nowhere to sucker-punch him from behind. The All-American America was in a slump ever since Dolph beat him for Vickie's services and after losing his U.S. title to Santino Marella, of all people, and he figured being the man who took out the WWE Champion for $100,000 thousand was a good place to rebound. Taking advantage of the distraction, Daniel slipped out of the ring and slunk back up the ramp, smiling deviously as he enjoyed the results of this bounty. It was all working out just as his benefactor "Mr. E" had promised him it would.
Backstage, AJ could only watch nervously, wringing her hands, cheering every time Punk managed to nail a blow, and running her hand nervously through her long raven-colored locks when he was on the receiving end of a beating.
After getting in a few stomps, Swagger picked up Punk and Irish-whipped him into the ropes for an over-the-shoulder toss, but Punk, waiting for his moment, rebounded with a vicious kick to the skull and followed it up by hoisting up the stunned Swagger onto his shoulders and slamming his knee into the jock's face with the GTS. However, Punk barely had any time to relish in his brief win before he turned around…
…and caught a Codebreaker for his troubles, courtesy of a wily Jericho, who had been watching and waiting for his moment after Big Show and Cena took off brawling. Punk was seeing stars as the full impact of both Jericho's knees made his head ring. Staggering painfully to his knees, Punk struggled to get his bearings, only to be caught with another Codebreaker that all but knocked him out cold. His eyes filled with wicked intent as he eyed the prone form of the dazed WWE Champion, Jericho went outside and grabbed a steel chair.
Backstage, at that moment, a panicked AJ had seen enough, bolting out of her seat and flying down the hallway, ignoring the sounds of Kaitlyn, Layla and Kofi calling out her name. She couldn't just leave him out there like this. Punk needed her. She had to get down there. Nothing else mattered to her at that moment. Hang on, baby, just hang on…
Back in the ring, Jericho smirked evilly as he toyed with the steel chair in his hands. Punk was in no condition to fight back, slipping in and out of consciousness as his hands cradled his head. It was the opportunity Chris had been waiting for ever since this tattooed wannabe bested him at Wrestlemania and Extreme Rules. At last, he was going to teach this fraud and charlatan the lesson that he deserved.
The crowd's noise raised higher when they caught sight of AJ sprinting hurriedly down to the ring, slipping through the ropes and shielding Punk's helpless form with her own body. Shaking her head pleadingly, her soulful chocolate brown eyes were wide in fear as she begged Chris not to do it.
"Please…" AJ said imploringly, her heart pounding wildly in fear, yet refusing to move from Punk's side. "Chris, please, he's had enough. Please, you don't have to do this!"
Laughing cruelly, Jericho regarded her in a morbid sense of amusement, despite the fact that deep down, he somewhat admired the young diva's bravery and loyalty, her willingness to protect her boyfriend at the expense of her own health while a much larger athlete loomed over her. Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, Jericho pointed to ring announcer Lillian Garcia, who warily approached the ring with a microphone in her hands. The Canadian future Hall of Famer roughly called for her to hold the microphone to his lips, to which she hurriedly agreed.
"Move," the Ayatollah of Rock N' Rolla coldly ordered AJ to do.
Her eyes found a spark of courage as she narrowed her gaze at him, not moving a muscle even as she was on her knees with nothing to protect Punk with but her own body.
"I said…MOVE!" Jericho boomed out, holding up the chair menacingly.
"No!" she shouted back, covering Punk's body desperately with her own as she wildly shook her head. "No."
Jericho scowled. "You think I won't do it? Huh? Is that what you think, little girl?" He snarled as he eyed her trembling, yet defiant form beneath her feet, shielding a still groggy Punk. "You think I care if you get hit with this chair and I take your little boyfriend with it? Huh? You think it'd be the first time I left a woman unconscious in this ring? You're pathetic, just like him. Just like…just like Randy Orton." He smiled wickedly as he recalled his earlier assault on Orton one month ago. "Just like Orton when I left him lying, weak, pathetic, broken and beaten in the middle of this ring. Like I'm about to do once again to your boyfriend, and maybe you with him."
With a look in his eyes that chilled her blood, he continued to menace her as she tried to shake Punk back to life. "Truth be told, I don't even care about the bounty. But if putting your pathetic little boyfriend on the shelf for a while earns me some of Bryan's pocket cash, it's just icing on the cake. And since you'll be sharing a hospital room with Punk tomorrow, when he wakes up, wondering what the hell happened to the both of you, you make sure to tell him…"
He slowly raised the chair up over his head, ready to deal the deadly blow, causing a frightened AJ to shriek as she clutched Punk's nearly unconscious form even tighter, shutting her eyes as she waited for the chair to connect with her body.
"…make sure to tell him," Jericho snarled as he readied to slam the chair down, "that Chris Jericho…is the one…the only…best…in the world…at everything…I…!"
I hear voices in my head
They counsel me
They understand
They talk to me
The sound of those ominous lyrics from the band Rev Theory brought the audience to a roaring cheer, and Jericho's body grinding to a freezing halt. For the sound of those slow, deadly guitar chords were associated with only one man.
The lights in the crowd dimmed to a reddish glow, and the titantron flickered to life with the video package for the superstar that corresponded with that music, but as Chris's alert eyes warily turned to the entrance ramp, he saw…no one. The lights continued to blare, and that damned music continued to echo through the arena, but nothing and no one was coming out yet. And deep down, that was starting to make him very uneasy.
You got your rules and your religion
All designed to keep you safe
But when rules start getting broken
You start questioning your faith
Taking notice of Jericho's distracted nature as he took his eyes off her, AJ took that moment to roll Punk with all of her strength and push him towards the corner, attempting to try and put as much distance between them and Jericho as possible.
"Punk? Phil, come on, baby, wake up! Damn it!" she ground out as she continued to push with strain while rolling him out of harm's way, a few dazed groans coming from him in response as he slowly stirred.
His eyes scanning the entrance way impatiently, Jericho gripped the steel chair securely, wielding it like a bat as he waited for a man that had not come out yet. Chris would never admit it aloud, but deep down, he was a little afraid of this man, and for one reason. In all the years and in all the countries he had wrestled in around the world, nobody had ever managed to hurt or injure him for a long period of time…until a vicious punt to the right side of his skull in October 2010 caused him so much injury that doctors advised him not to return to the ring for several long months, which became more than a year away from action. Never had one move ever caused him so much damage as that insidious kick to the head that was designed for one purpose: to end careers.
I have a voice that is my savior
Hates to love and loves to hate
I have a voice that has the knowledge
And the power to rule your fate
The longer those haunting, frightening lyrics continued, the more Chris started to lose it, becoming irritated and antsy as his eyes darted around the arena, in the stands, near the ring apron, around the announcer's table…this man could come from anywhere at anytime, after all. That was his M.O., like the animal that was his namesake. Yet he could not see him. Damn it, where was he?
"Come on," Chris growled under his breath, a bead of nervous sweat forming on his head as he gripped the chair close to him. "Come on, where are you, you son of a bitch?"
I hear voices crying
"Where are you? Huh?" he demanded as he looked around wildly and the fans grew just as restless as he was.
I see heroes dying
"Where are you, Orton? Huh! WHERE ARE YOU?" the Canadian star snarled, his eyes darting everywhere.
I taste blood that's drying
"Come on out, coward!" he shouted daringly. "Face me like a—"
But his sentence froze in his mouth as he felt the sudden, hair-raising sensation of warm, angry huffs of breath behind his throat. And as the crowd roared in a thunderous cheer, Chris knew. He just knew…it was him. He had no idea how he managed it, coming out of nowhere the way he always did, but he just knew it was him.
I feel tension rising
"So," a cold, low yet smooth voice hissed behind the frozen Jericho. "Still think I'm weak…and pathetic…Chris?"
If AJ had looked up a moment later, she would have missed a tanned, athletic form slither from out of seemingly nowhere into the ring, sneaking up right behind Chris, evading his sight almost as if he was toying with him. Only one man was capable of that kind of stealth, that kind of grace…The man they called "The Viper."
Randy Orton.
I hear voices in my head
They counsel me
They understand
They talk to me, they talk to me
They tell me things that I should do
They tell me things I'll do to you
They talk to me (talk to me, talk to me, TALK TO ME!)
They talk to me (talk to me, talk to me, TALK TO ME!)
Chris stood frozen in the ring, a glaring Orton right behind him, Jericho going still as if he was a petrified field mouse in the presence of a venomous cobra. Then, abruptly, Jericho's expression changed. His pride getting the better of him, instead of running for cover, he opted to foolishly attack, turning on his heel and swinging his steel chair wildly, but catching nothing but air, the Viper's speed allowing him to vanish away from the blow. Chris tried to shift his weight as he turned around for another attack…
…but by that moment, he was already too late. With the suddenness of a lightning strike and the venomous intent of the serpent that was his namesake, AJ watched, stunned, as Orton leapt up and grabbed Jericho's head, throwing him off-balance as the third-generation superstar drove the first-ever WWE Undisputed Champion's skull slamming into to the ground with a thunderous, equilibrium-shattering RKO, knocking Jericho out cold with the impact amid the wild cheers of the crowd.
At this point, Punk started to slowly stir, unaware of what had just happened. His shifting body drew her attention.
"Punk? Punk, are you alright?" she asked in worry, touching his head gently as he made it to his knees.
Shaking off the cobwebs, Punk looked up at his girlfriend in confusion. "AJ? What are you doing out here? Where's Jericho? What happened?"
AJ looked back to the center of the ring, her wary glance drawing Punk's attention there. "Well…he happened."
Catching sight of the Viper standing emotionlessly over the prone body of Jericho, Punk's surprise melted into a scowl.
"Orton," he growled contemptuously under his breath.
While Cena and Punk were rivals, deep down, though Punk would never admit it, there was a certain amount of respect that he had for the Massachusetts-born superstar. Cena had morals, principles, honor…none of those things applied to Randy Orton. In Punk's dealings with him, he found him to be every bit the snake as his nickname made him out to be. He was dangerous, cunning, devious, merciless…and not to be trusted in the slightest. This was one man whose help he certainly didn't need or want. Ever.
Neither AJ or Punk had time to ponder what Orton's intentions were before the Viper suddenly slithered into a nearby corner, coiling up in a running stance. While the crowd erupted in a bloodthirsty cheer as Orton's face slipped into an almost altered, possessed state, AJ looked on in shock as Punk's eyes widened in disbelief.
AJ turned her unsure gaze to her boyfriend. "Punk…he's not gonna…?"
"He is," Punk's eyes narrowed. He'd seen this before. He knew exactly what was coming. The deadly punt to the skull.
Punk had seen friends and men he respected get struck with that move and have to be carried out on stretchers, careers altered with the single swift blow from that devastating kick to the temple. And Punk himself was very intimate with that kick. After all, it was Randy Orton's boot connecting with his skull four years ago that cost him his first world title before he could defend it at a pay per view, Unforgiven 2008. He had never forgiven, nor had he forgotten that incident.
And now, the cold, snake-like eyes of the WWE's Apex Predator had their deadly sights set on Jericho, who was drunkenly stumbling to get to his knees, clueless of what was about to happen.
Shaking off the bitter memory of his own assault years ago flashing before his eyes, Punk made up his mind right then and there. Jericho was an asshole, sure. He was cruel, he was cowardly and he was as vile as vile could get…but even he didn't deserve this. Nobody deserved this.
Ignoring AJ's voice calling him back, Punk found his strength as he ran to intercept Randy, who was sprinting halfway to Jericho, aiming to kick him right into next week.
"Hey!" Punk shouted angrily, shoving a stunned Randy back. "Back off! You're not pulling that crap off in front of me!"
Putting himself right between Jericho and Randy, Punk's hardened green eyes clashed with the furious blue-eyed gaze of the Viper, who was livid that the WWE Champion dared to interfere in his business.
Nervously, AJ inched closer as she inhaled a deep breath watching the two men so close to each other. She had no idea why Punk had chosen to risk getting involved with someone as dangerous as Randy over Jericho, who was just menacing her a few moments ago with a steel chair.
"Punk…" she tried anxiously to get his attention, but failed as he continued to stare down Orton.
"Okay, psycho, you want your pound of flesh? Is that it?" Punk growled. "Fine, here's your stinking pound of flesh!"
With that, he dragged a wobbling Jericho to his feet, hoisting him up on his shoulders and delivering a stiff GTS that knocked Jericho senseless, drawing the crowd to its feet in delight. However, even as Chris slid lifelessly out of the ring, Orton was less than amused, scowling angrily as his posture looked as if he was about to go into attack mode, while Punk immediately got on the defensive, having no qualms about trading blows with a man that he had no love lost for.
"Wait! Wait, stop, stop!" AJ cried out as she interjected herself between the two wrestlers, who were seconds away from coming to blows. Holding Punk back, she implored him with her eyes to stay his hand. Not daring to put her in harm's way, Punk reluctantly held back, though he never took his stony green eyes off Orton.
"AJ, get back," Punk warned, trying to shield her behind him. "You don't want to get in the middle of this."
"No, damn it, think for a second!" she snapped, slapping his hand away as she held a firm hand against his chest. "You're tired, you're beaten up and you're in no condition to fight. And, like it or not, he just saved us."
"I never asked him to," Punk muttered.
"It doesn't matter!" she hissed quietly. "The least we can do is back off and give him some space. We owe him that much."
Sensing that there was only one way to defuse things, she turned a wary gaze to the seething Viper, hoping to reach some part of him that had some empathy.
"Randy…" she swallowed, nodding slowly. "Um, th-thank you…for your help."
Her words drew his attention to her, giving her an up-close look at those cold blue eyes of his. So much intensity, so much anger…she had never realized how angry this man was before.
Orton regarded her, studying her curiously. After a few tense moments, the Viper at last ground out two words as he returned his icy gaze to Punk.
"You're welcome."
Punk's wary gaze never left Orton as he watched him slowly take several steps backwards towards the ropes. Turning one last look to AJ, Orton stared at her with a blank expression on his handsome, yet guarded features, before he gave her an unfathomable sign of approval for a man as cold-hearted as the Viper…a small smirk.
Orton's theme music hit once more as he slowly walked back up the ramp, his back turned as he walked off with an unreadable expression on his face.
Clutching Punk's arm, AJ looked up at him in confusion. "What the hell was that all about?"
Frowning as he attempted to decipher Orton's unexpected-and unwanted-save moments before, Punk muttered, "I don't know…but I'm sure as hell gonna find out."
"Hey Orton!" Punk called across the room. Having gained a second burst of strength (and bravado), he let his arm drop from AJ's shoulders and began making his way over. "I need to talk to you."
"Punk, please," AJ begged, tugging at his arm. "Let's just go!" She wanted to get the hell out of there before the show let out… the last thing they needed was to be jumped by eager fans in the parking lot.
Randy merely glanced over his shoulder, scoffing as he drained the rest of his paper cup and crushed it in one of his powerful fists. "I have nothing to say to you," he replied coldly, turning around.
"Well, you're not leaving this room until you give me answers," Punk growled as he came closer. He and Randy were now only a few feet from each other. AJ hung nervously at her exhausted boyfriend's side, eyeing Randy warily. "I want to know. Why did you help me?"
Randy scowled. "Let's get one thing straight right now," he spat. "I did not go out there to help you,you got that? I went down to that ring for one reason and one reason only: to pay back that son of a bitch Jericho for attacking me last month." His eyes narrowed. "So if giving that prick the beat down he deserved just happened to rescue your skinny ass, well, then…lucky you."
"So you went out there to give him the 'ol boot to the head, is that right?" Punk asked sarcastically. "The same way you did to me a few years ago? When you cost me my first world heavyweight title?"
"Oh, you want to bring up old history?" Randy snapped. "Then let's bring up old history! Like the Rumble last year, you remember that? When you cost me myWWE title? And when you threatened my wife?"
Punk scoffed derisively, recalling one infamous incident involving Orton doing the same thing to Stephanie McMahon three years ago before WrestleMania 25 when the third-generation superstar was warring for the WWE title with Triple H. "Oh, really? You're against attacking people's wives? Should I call up Stephanie McMahon and Triple H and ask them what they think about that?"
Randy's dangerous, icy blue eyes were shooting daggers at Punk now. "You know something, maybe I should go after that little bounty of Bryan's, after all. I couldn't care less about his offer of pocket change, but maybe you could use another beat down of your own!"
Punk was fuming now. "Go ahead, Daddy's Boy! Try it! But after you wake up from me kicking your face in, just remember this message, and I'll say it loud enough for all the voices in your head to understand: keep your damn revenge fantasies out of my business!"
This appeared to be the breaking point for them, searing gazes locked in silent combat. In only a second the short distance between them was closed, both powerful, furious wrestlers beginning to raise their arms as they prepared to grapple once again.
"Punk, no!" AJ cried suddenly, speaking up for the first time. She'd remained silent throughout the whole of the confrontation, knowing Punk needed answers before he would be able to relax and figure out their next move. But she wasn't about to let either of them pummel each other again, especially not after everything they'd just gone through in the ring. So she instinctively jumped between them, placing a firm hand on either of sweaty chests, managing to push them both back a few inches. "Stop!"
"Let me go, AJ," Punk hissed, pushing forward against her hand.
"Yeah, AJ, let baby boy go," Randy agreed, putting emphasis on her name. "Let him fight his own battles!"
"No!" she snapped, shoving them both back further, the often-mentioned 'spitfire' in her finding its way to the surface. She may have been a small woman, but she packed plenty of power behind her fists. "You are not getting into a backstage brawl over this, do you understand me? Both of you, be adults!" Although he was still furious at the Viper, Punk nodded and stepped back a little, as did Randy. Their expressions made it clear that both of them were a little embarrassed that the smallest, youngest and at times most vulnerable member of the WWE roster had to be the one to separate them.
With a sigh, AJ's expression softened and she turned to Randy. "Look," she continued calmly, "it's pretty clear that neither of you are each other's favorite person. Who cares? No one ever said we all needed to be best friends. But in case you couldn't already tell we have a lot going on right now, and you've got your own bone to pick with Jericho. So why don't you both just stay out of each other's hair? You keep to your side of the locker room and Punk will keep to his. Deal?"
To both Punk and AJ's surprise, Randy nodded. "Fine. Deal." That was good enough for him, for now. Maybe there was something to this 'crazy chick' after all… she definitely knew how to defuse a volatile situation, anyway. He turned his back on both of them as he made his way to the doorway, then stopped suddenly as a wry smile crept across his face. He turned on his heel to glance over his shoulder at the couple behind him. "You know, Punk," he said thoughtfully, clearly amused, "I think this girl is too good for you." Without giving either of them a chance to respond, he strode out of the room.
AJ didn't even realize she still had her hand placed squarely in the middle of Punk's chest until she felt his hand closed over it, his much larger palm covering hers like a paw. "Thank you," he whispered.
They slipped away to the hotel shortly after, both of them glad they were able to duck out of the arena without being noticed by any fans or fellow superstars (taking a nondescript rental car instead of the bus definitely helped this mission). The drive passed in relative silence, both Punk and AJ too wrapped up in their own thoughts to say much. Punk was running his conversation with Randy through his head again, trying to make sense of it all (and maybe take his mind off the price Daniel put on his head), but AJ was occupied with thoughts of a far different manner.
She was still brooding about it when they crept up to their hotel room, and Punk could tell. "Alright," he said as he inched painfully out of his shirt and tossed it carelessly over the edge of a chair. "Spill."
She looked up at him innocently. "Spill what?" she asked.
"What you're thinking about," he replied as he sat down to take off his jeans. His body was already sore enough that even such light, simple movements shot pain through his limbs. "You've obviously got something on your mind, so just tell me!"
"You mean besides the old western bounty my ex-boyfriend is trying to sign your death warrant with?" she clarified with an incredulous laugh. "Because I think we're both thinking about that."
He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Yes, I mean besides that. Let's just skip the part where you refuse to tell me until I drag out of you via various underhanded means, ok?"
She sighed and lay back on the bed, scooting up against the pillows so she could stare back at him thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about it since we left the ring tonight," she answered finally, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. "Jericho was beating the life out of you until Randy got involved."
He nodded. "Yeah," he said. Then he chuckled harshly. "I remember."
"So when Randy went to deliver that head punt… why did you stop him?"
Punk turned away, his eyes drifting lazily around the room. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes he could still feel the sting of the Viper's boot against his skull 4 long years ago. "I've taken that move," he replied quietly, his gaze cast downward. "I've seen friends take that move. I've seen them wheeled out on stretchers, unable to remember what just happened or form coherent sentences for a little while afterward. As long as I'm there, AJ, as long as I can help it, I'm not watching anyone else suffer the effects of that move. Not even a bastard like Jericho deserves it."
AJ was sitting up now, hugging her knees as she listened to his explanation. There was more to him than just the surface, she'd always known that, and she knew it more now. There was a part of him that didn't want to see people get hurt, regardless of how much pain he caused in his past and his present. She silently uncurled her legs and crossed the room to him, hooking her arms through his and curling them around his shoulders. She pressed her forehead against his back and pressed a soft kiss to his skin. "You're a hero sometimes, you know that?" she whispered.
He chuckled. "Please, AJ. I'm no white knight."
"Maybe not… but you're my white knight."
He turned around to face her now, framing her cheeks gently between his hands and placing a firm kiss over her lips. "I love you," he said, his hands sliding down over her shorts.
"Punk…" she giggled, knowing exactly where this was headed as his hands traveled around the top of her waist and slipped up beneath the back of her shirt. "You must be so tired!"
"Then help me relax."
"But you're all sweaty!"
"Then shower with me."
She was helpless to paw him off, and at heart she knew they both needed this right now. So she allowed him to strip her free of clothing and sweep her off her feet, off to carry both of their sore bodies and weary minds far, far away.
Caught on WWE Backstage Fallout
10 minutes after the show ended
Cameras caught Chris Jericho as he angrily grumbled and snapped at the medics tending to him in the locker room, checking for signs of a concussion.
INTERVIEWER: Hey, Chris, Drew, how're you feeling?
JERICHO (annoyed, bitterly chuckling): Of course…it had to be you, right? Every time I have a bad night, there you are with your stupid little camera like an annoying little troll which you are. Don't you have somebody else to bother around here, huh?
INTERVIEWER: Right, sorry. But, well, we just wanted to catch up to you about your reaction to-
JERICHO: (cutting him off, angrily) Yeah, yeah, I know exactly what you want to know my reaction to, junior. You want to ask me about how I feel after that coward Randy Orton and that pathetic excuse for a WWE Champion, CM Punk, the man I'm going to beat this Sunday at No Way Out to win the WWE title again, both assaulted me after the match. Well, let me tell you how I feel! I'm pissed off. I'm outraged. And I'm motivated, yeah, that's the word I'm looking for.
I'm even hungrier than ever to get payback on all of them. CM Punk, Randy Orton, Daniel Bryan, even that little ring rat Divas Champion AJ that Punk likes to keep around. They're all going to find out the hard way that Chris Jericho is not the kind of man you…(trails off in surprise)…cross…
[Camera pans left to reveal: STEPHANIE MCMAHON, President of Talent Relations, coming near Jericho with an unreadable expression on her face. Jericho's expression goes from angry to astonished.]
STEPHANIE: (to Trainers and Medics) Is he okay?
HEAD MEDIC: Yes, Ms. McMahon, he doesn't appear to have any concussion symptoms.
INTERVIEWER: Oh, Ms. McMahon, hi! Would you care to comment on the show tonight, particularly the bounty that Daniel Bryan—
STEPHANIE: (to Interviewer, politely) Hey, sorry, but could you give us a moment please? And, uh, shut the camera off.
INTERVIEWER: But if we could just—
STEPHANIE: (slight edge to her still-polite voice) Thank you. For understanding.
(Interviewer nervously shuts camera down)
-End Transmission—
Jericho would have laughed normally at how the smaller reporter nervously backed away with his tail tucked between his legs like a scolded puppy if it weren't for the presence of the blue-eyed, auburn-haired beauty in front of him.
Who just happened to be one of the three most powerful people in the industry, not just the company itself.
And complicating matters…a woman who he had a lot of history with. More history than anyone but themselves knew.
Gathering himself, Jericho squashed the shock he felt before he flashed his signature cocky smirk. "Well, well, it must be my lucky day. Stephanie McMahon, as I live and breathe. We haven't spoken once since I came back to the company in January, and yet Her Highness has deigned me worthy of her presence. What an honor-"
"Chris," she snapped, her throaty, icy tone indicating that she was in no mood for his antics. "Do me a favor. Shut up."
Off his expression changing to a colder one, she sighed. "Just for once, shut up and come with me. I think there's something you need to see."
Off-put by her demand, but intrigued by the odd request from an old lover, Chris hastily complied, putting down the ice pack he held to his head and following her down the hall.
Longtime fans remembered well the storied rivalry between Jericho and Stephanie McMahon back in the glory days of the Attitude Era, when a younger, hungrier "Y2J" was trying to make a name for himself and, being more of a champion of the people, picked on a younger, still-immature, often-spoiled Stephanie for the better part of two years. The heat and constant fighting between them on-screen had led most people to believe that there was something going on between Chris and Stephanie, then a newly-married woman to Triple H, the first time the couple was married. What many didn't know was that about three months after her divorce was official in 2002, Chris had begun dating the youngest member of the McMahon family, the two brought together by a long-brewing attraction and loneliness, especially after Jericho's own marriage fell apart at the time. They had dated for roughly a year, in secret, and Chris had to admit, it was the most fun he had ever had dating in many years.
Despite her frosty business-like exterior, Stephanie, who was the General Manager of Smackdown at the time, held a playful side to her that drew him in, and was more tender than people realized, especially him. Stephanie herself found Chris to be a welcome change from Hunter, as Chris was more willing to laugh at himself and make her laugh, in turn. And, while neither of them would admit it now, the sex was mind-blowing. Amazing, even. Stephanie had kept it to herself for a while, but during the time she had seen the Canadian superstar that had annoyed her so only two years before, she was starting to fall in love with him. But when Chris began to focus more on his legacy and winning titles, things began to change between them. He began getting more distant, colder, focusing on his career rather than his relationship with Stephanie. They began fighting, a hurt and angry Stephanie accusing him of putting his ambitions above her and acting just like her ex-husband while a frustrated and annoyed Chris accused her of being selfish, of wanting him to martyr everything he was working for just to make her happy.
Their break-up was painful and heated. Around that time, Hunter came back into her life, seeking to win her back. And a still-reeling Stephanie had decided to give their marriage a second chance, the news leaving Chris stunned, heartbroken and bitterly resentful towards Stephanie. So bad was the tension between the former lovers that they didn't speak for three years after Stephanie's second wedding to Hunter in 2004. When he came back in 2007, Stephanie and Chris, realizing that they had to work together again, had begun to mend the fences and reached a level where they could be civil, and after that, even gradually even become friends again. But the underlying tension still existed between them, even after all this time, even after Stephanie was happily married with two beautiful children and Chris had long since cemented his legacy as a future WWE Hall of Famer and spending his days wrestling, touring with his band and doing radio and TV shows.
There was a saying with ex-lovers-even when the flames died out, the embers still burned brightly.
The silence between them as they walked down the hall was deafening, and Chris could tell by the stiff posture in her stance and the quick, crisp strides she took that he had to keep up with that she wasn't nearly as comfortable in his presence as she once was…something that both brought him strange delight and an odd sense of hurt.
"So," he joked, a bit smugly. "Where we headed? Office? Mail room? Locker room? A broom closet to let me work out that sexual frustration that your office stooge of a husband keeps leaving you in?"
At that, she turned on her heels and fixed those glacial, sky blue eyes of hers on him, freezing him dead in his tracks. "I want to make one thing perfectly clear, Chris," she said, fuming. "In spite of our past, things are very different now. If you ever make another crack about my married life again, you had better start booking a lot of Fozzy shows to make a living from now on, because you will no longer have a place in this company. Is. That. Clear?"
Normally, Jericho would have been inclined to make a joke, but he could see from the cold, hard way she glared at him that this was not the time to test the volatile patience of the Chairman's daughter. Swallowing, he nodded.
"Good," she said, simply. Continuing to walk down the hall with him, she began to talk. "Chris, what exactly do you remember happening at the end of the match?"
Jericho's eyes narrowed, recalling the abuse he had taken in the last few minutes. "I remember Orton sticking his nose in my business, then that damn RKO that put me out of it, then I was getting up and Punk got his licks in. Typical."
"That's all you remember?"
"What else was there that mattered?" Jericho asked, dismissively.
Sighing as the two entered a nearby production truck, Stephanie continued to talk as she began pressing a few buttons and brought up the closing minutes of the match on the screen. "Well, apparently, a lot mattered. Because if you don't remember that gap after you got hit with the RKO, then you won't remember Randy doing this."
Jericho watched the screen impatiently, scowling as he saw the replay of his head striking the mat thanks to that damn Orton's RKO from out of nowhere. But it was what he saw next that sent a chill up his spine, as he saw Orton rear back with that demented look in his eyes, ready to give him another one of his infamous kicks to the cranium. Chris had been advised very specifically by doctors two years ago after he was first blasted with that kick; avoid such a blow at all costs. The next one could be the end of his in-ring career. And that son of a bitch Orton was ready to fire one off that would have almost certainly meant he would have been wheeled out on a stretcher, just like the last time he took that kick that blacked out his entire world for about seven hours before he woke up in a hospital room, barely able to recall that attack.
"Bastard," Chris growled under his breath, which Stephanie took notice of, making her pause the clip.
"I'd have to agree with you on thta," Stephanie shrugged. After the hell that Orton put her and her family through years ago, the Viper wasn't exactly on Stephanie's Christmas card list, either. "But in case you're wondering why you're still walking around instead of being carted into an ambulance…again…here's what happened after."
Un-pausing the clip, Chris watched in shock as Punk, of all people, threw himself in the way, shoving Orton back and coming to his defense. He couldn't make out the words that he was saying, but the message in his body language was clear enough to understand: Punk would not allow Randy to proceed with his deadly signature move.
It stunned him, to say the least. The last few months, Jericho had done nothing less than make Punk's life as miserable as possible. He revealed the secrets of Punk's troubled family life to the world. He insulted his family, he poured alcohol all over Punk-who religiously practiced the Straight Edge lifestyle-two times, and he had even threatened his girlfriend with physical harm. There was nothing but bad blood between them, and even after all of that…Punk still was willing to save his ass instead of letting Orton finish the job. Any other man would have simply stood back and let the Viper strike, especially with all of that history behind them, yet not Punk. Why?
"Cat got your tongue, Chris?" Stephanie smirked at his dumbfounded expression. "Or are you too busy swallowing some humble pie?"
Recovering, Jericho shrugged it off. "Okay, so Punk saved me from a punt. Big deal, Steph, what do you want me to do, sit down with him and have dinner?"
"Chris, Punk did a lot more than that," Stephanie corrected him sternly. "I read your medical file. One more punt to the skull, one more serious move like that, and your career could be over. Why else do you think I've been keeping you out of the more physical matches as of late? That Street Fight with Punk at Extreme Rules was an exception; John Laurinaitis had the Board of Directors authorize that match without my approval. But I've been keeping you out of those matches because I don't want to risk you getting an injury serious enough to end your career. If Randy had punted you tonight, you'd have been done wrestling. And you know it."
"The man you've been going to painstaking lengths to embarrass and humiliate, whose family you've been embarrassing, whose girlfriend you nearly hit with a chair tonight…just saved your career. Even though you probably didn't deserve it," she said in a scolding tone.
Chris grew even more annoyed. "So what? Okay, fine, maybe he did. But that doesn't just change our past, and it's not going to change the fact that at No Way Out, I'm going at him with everything I've got to get back to the top of the mountain. I want the WWE Championship, Stephanie, and I don't care who I have to go though to get it!"
Stephanie threw up her hands in frustration. This man was always so damn infuriating, even when they were dating. "What is wrong with you? Do you even see what you're doing? Your obsession with being champion at all costs has already driven everyone away who used to care about you, who used to respect you, love you…"
"Like you, Steph?" he demanded accusingly, a thousand memories of passion and happier times between them flickering bitterly in his mind. "We had something, Princess, something great. And you threw it away and ran back to Trips at the first chance you got because you couldn't understand how important it was for me to be the best at something I've wanted to do since I was a kid—"
"Oooh no you don't! You are not going to make me out like the bad guy in our relationship!" she snapped. "I loved you, Chris, I wanted to be with you so badly…but it wasn't enough for you. Your obsession with your career changed you. You were distant, you became cold, you were angry all the time, you turned into someone that I didn't know anymore! The Chris Jericho I remember was a great guy, he was off the cuff, he was funny, he was spontaneous, fun-loving, sweet, caring…he was amazing." Her eyes grew sad as she regarded the man she once loved, or rather the complete opposite of that man, the bitter, angry, jaded man he had become. "What happened to you? Why did you turn into…this?"
Her words began to hit home, and she could see it as his face fell, as his eyes lowered, almost as if he was ashamed. "You wouldn't understand," he muttered quietly.
"Then make me understand," she replied, insistently.
She could see the hesitation in his eyes, as if he mulled over whether to open up. Reaching up, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to speak. With a heavy sigh, he finally relented.
"I'm…I'm getting old, Steph," Chris sighed, sitting down on a nearby crate. "I can still go, that's for sure. But let's face it, I don't have a lot of time left before I've got to hang up the ol' wrestling boots. And it's taking me a lot longer to recover from the bumps and bruises than it used to. I guess…" he gesticulated in the air with one hand, as if searching for the right words. "I guess I've been wondering a lot lately about the future and all. What kind of legacy I'd have if it all ended tomorrow."
Surprised by this admission from a man she had always known to exude nothing but confidence, Stephanie sat down alongside him. "Chris, what are you talking about? You know the kind of legacy you'd have. You're a first-ballot Hall of Famer, you'll be remembered as a legend. Heck, you're a legend right now."
"I know that," he sighed. "But hindsight is always 20-20. I missed a lot of opportunities in my career when I could have been more. When I could have been one of the real top guys in the company. People think back to the Attitude Era, and you know what the first thing comes to mind? They think of Stone Cold Steve Austin. They think of the Rock. Undertaker, Triple H. Even Trish, Lita and the damn New Age Outlaws come to mind before me. Then I thought it was my time when they moved on, and who comes along? Cena, Orton, Batista, Kurt Angle, Eddie Guerrero, God rest his soul…and then, all of a sudden…" he paused, shaking his head bitterly. "All of a sudden, here comes a kid that came from the same places I did, went through the same problems, people telling him he's too small, he's too weird, he's too this or that, just like they told me…and yet he reaches heights that I've only ever dreamed I'd reach."
Stephanie realized who he was talking about. "Punk."
Shrugging, Chris nodded. "He got people talking. Got them to watch for just him and him alone. Hell, he even got mentions on ESPN. Watching him, Steph, watching him do the things he's done in the last year, it's like…like life was telling me that all these years, I've done it the wrong way."
Understanding dawned on Stephanie. "He reminds you of yourself. You see him and it takes you back to what you were."
"No, Steph," he sighed wistfully. "He reminds me of what I could have been. Punk has everything I could have had if I had made better choices. The high company standing, friends who love him, the lengthy WWE title reign, the undying love of the fans…" he looked poignantly at Stephanie. "…a pretty girl who loves him."
Stephanie closed her eyes for a moment, old memories long locked away coming to the surface. Oh, Chris…
Sighing, the woman known as the Billion Dollar Princess laid a gentle hand on the crestfallen Canadian's back. "Chris, if it all ended tomorrow, you know what people would say? They'd say, 'Wow, I'm gonna miss that Chris Jericho. He was a great performer, he did it all his way. He was…" Pausing a moment, she imitated his low, slow voice the way he once used to speak. "'He was the best…in the world…at everything he did.'"
Her giggle and her use of his voice drew a chuckle from Jericho, a genuine sound of warm laughter. The first that he could recall in quite some time. Of all the regrets in his career, in his life, none were more haunting to him than his stupidity in letting Stephanie walk out of his life. She was perfect for him in every way, understood him in a way few women, few people, ever did...and he lost her, forever, because he was too myopic, too self-involved in being the best to pay her the attention he once did. She would always be his friend, but deep down, Chris would never be able to stop thinking about her as anything other than "The One That Got Away."
"Punk is great, Chris. He might very well be the Best in the World right now…but he's not you. Chris, no matter what, there will never be another you. I know that, the fans know that," she said gently. "But if you really want your legacy to survive? If you really want to have something worth remembering, you have to change. All this bitterness, this anger, this regret you have…if you hold onto it, all you'll be remembered as if it ends tomorrow, in the locker room and by fans, is as a smug, self-righteous, selfish jerk who caused people pain and was only out for himself. But if you really want something to leave behind, do it the way you used to do it. By being the guy who went out there and just let it rip, the guy who was only interested in putting on the best damn show he could. By leaving a smile on people's faces. By making the people around him laugh and have a good time. That's who you are deep down, Chris. That's the man I fell in…"
Off his surprised look, she caught herself, clearing her throat as she backpedaled. "Um…th-that's the guy I knew."
She continued, "And if you respect Punk deep down…then show it. Let him be, Chris. Just go out there Sunday and wrestle him the way you used to, by being that hungry, tough-as-nails daredevil you've always been. And when it's all over, no matter who wins…show him how much you respect him. Show him respect, and maybe, you'll start getting some of it back. From everyone."
He looked at her, unsure. "And what if I can't?"
Stephanie sighed, patting him on the back as she stood up. "Then you'll continue down a path where I know you don't want to end up. All the money and titles and legacy…but alone, bitter and without a friend in the world."
She left him brooding as the Ayatollah of Rock N' Rolla pondered her parting words. "Life's about choices, Chris. This Sunday, the choice is yours. It always has been."
TBC
Next: With only one Smackdown until No Way Out, the $100,000 bounty on Punk continued to test his mental and physical limits. What dangers will he face with only three days before his WWE title defense in New Jersey? And as she struggles to keep things together with Punk, AJ finds herself in the sights of the Glamazon, Beth Phoenix. Can the spitfire Divas Champion survive the onslaught of her most powerful challenger to date?
And while Kaitlyn and Sheamus' romance heats up, Dolph schemes to take both the world title and his former flame from the Great White. A scheme that could be closer to coming true thanks to an old enemy with a bitter past with Sheamus…
So, what do you think? Will Jericho turn face or stay a heel? lol
Spotlight Fic of the Week: Read "No Way Out" by MyChaosTheory. When AJ is convicted of murder and sentenced to prison, she finds herself alone and without a friend in the world…except for one tattooed, tough-as-nails, smart aleck guard who just might be her light in her darkest hour. Suspense, drama, and plenty of Punklee goodness. Read it, love it, review it!
Well, that's a wrap! Update to come soon! Remember to like me on Facebook for sneak previews and update dates, follow me on Twitter and join PunkleeNation, my online FF dot net community for all your favorite Punklee stories. Enjoy SummerSlam this Sunday, when the Best, CM Punk, takes on the Beast, Brock Lesnar; you know who my money's on. The Beast is not the best; the Best is a Beast (killer)!
And be sure to check out "Keeping Them Apart" by PikaSixJoy, and "World Tour" by RonRon10, part of the Core 4 series that this is a part of! Peace!
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-Jean-theGuardian