By: Elektra
WINNIPEG, MANITOBA, CANADA - Tuesday Night
Stephanie sat down in the armchair with a sigh, "Wow... I never realized what hard work it was preparing a meal!"
Jericho eyed her from the couch where he was laying, "Yeah. Us peasants have to do without servants," he replied.
"You know, maybe I should go back into the kitchen and mix your food with rat poison," Stephanie said.
Jericho smirked, "Save it for your husband, sweetcheeks..."
"EX-husband!" Stephanie pointed out.
"Oh, of course..." Chris replied, then sighed, "I'm going to help my mother set the table,"
Stephanie watched him pull himself into a sitting position, and saw the pain on his face, "Stay put!" she ordered as she stood up, "I'LL do it!"
Jericho looked at her, surprised, "Really?" he asked.
"Yeah... really..." Stephanie replied.
"Ok. Who are you and what have you done with Stephanie McMahon?" Jericho asked.
"Oh ha ha ha!" Stephanie sneered, "You know, I'm not a TOTAL bitch all the time!"
"Could have fooled me," Jericho muttered.
Stephanie rolled her eyes, then headed into the kitchen. Ten minutes later, Irene called for dinner.
Jericho sat at the table, and eyed his plate apprehensively. What did rat poison taste like anyway?
***
Stephanie heard the quiet cursing and grunting as she made her way out of the bathroom. It was coming from Jericho's room down the hall. He sounded... well... pathetic for one, but also in a lot of pain.
Stephanie grabbed her robe from her room and wrapped it around herself as she made her way down the hall.
"Uh... Jer-- Chris?" she called out quietly as she faced his closed door.
The cursing and grunting immediately stopped, "What?" he asked from the other side of the door.
"You... ok?" she asked.
"Yeah. Go to sleep," he replied. Stephanie heard shuffling, followed by more curses and grunts.
"Are you sure you're ok?" she asked, "You sound like you're in a lot of pain,"
"Why do you care, Steph?!" he asked angrily, "You never did before! In fact, I remember you smiling like the cheshire cat the last time Trip attacked me with a sledgehammer!"
"That's not fair!" Stephanie snapped at the door. It's just too bad she couldn't yell to his face, "I didn't have a choice!"
She heard a harsh laugh, "Yeah... Trip held a gun to your head and forced you to laugh while I coughed up blood!"
Stephanie was suddenly worried, "Are you coughing up blood?!"
"No," he answered.
"WERE you coughing up blood?" she asked.
"NO!" he sounded annoyed, "Just go to bed and stop pretending like you give a damn!" Jericho snapped.
Stephanie threw the door open, "I am NOT pretending, you ungrateful--!" she stopped as she saw Jericho standing before her. Stephanie paused a moment, then burst out laughing. Jericho had managed to get his shirt halfway up, and no more, "Oh my!" she snickered, "Are you... STUCK?!"
"I am not STUCK!" he replied, "I am just in pain and this is taking longer then I'd like! If you're quite done laughing, will you get out of my room!?"
Stephanie rolled her eyes and went up to him, "Here, let me help you," she grabbed the shirt and tried to tug, "Will you let go of the thing! Geez... you're worse then a child!"
"How do I know you're not going to choke me with it?" he asked.
"I guess you don't," Stephanie replied. "Of course, if you'd rather go to sleep like THAT..." she indicated his position.
Chris took a deep breath, "Fine. Do it," he said, and let go of the shirt.
Stephanie gently slipped it over his head and pulled it off. She looked up at him and felt her face flush. She was standing far too close for comfort, and if she thought about it long enough, the very act of stripping Jericho of his shirt was probably a little too personal for her liking.
"What?" Jericho asked, his blue eyes boring through her. He was still trying to figure out what she was up to.
"Uh..." Stephanie quickly stepped away from him and tossed the shirt on the bed, "Tomorrow I suggest you wear a button down,"
"For once, I agree with you," He replied, then looked at the tensor bandage around his ribs, "Damn... it's coming undone," he muttered, then grabbed the loose end and gingerly began to unwrap it.
"Umm... don't you need that?" Stephanie asked.
"I do. But this wrapping has lost it's stickiness. It'll just tangle me up when I sleep," he looked through his carry-on bag, "I know I have another roll in here somewhere..." Jericho then turned to Stephanie, "You can go now," he said.
"You couldn't take off your own shirt. How are you going to wrap up your own ribs?" she asked.
"I'll ask my dad..."
"It's 1am, Chris. Your parents are sleeping upstairs,"
"So? Dad will understand. And why are you suddenly calling me CHRIS?" he asked.
"Fine, JERICHO," Stephanie replied, "Don't wake your dad up. I'll help you,"
"Oh no you won't!" he replied. "You'll probably strangle me with the thing!"
"You know what? Just forget it, OK?!" Stephanie snapped, "I'm trying to help, and you still don't trust me! I get it, Chris! I really do! I'll leave you alone, you JERK!" Stephanie spun around and stormed out of the room.
Jericho was taken aback. If he didn't know any better, he could have sworn she was legitimately upset. And for some reason, he felt GUILTY about it. She WAS trying to help... surprisingly enough.
Jericho ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "Damn," he mumbled, "I'm going to regret this..." Chris headed out of his room and down the hall to Stephanie's room. He lifted his hand, hesitating for a moment, then finally knocked, "Steph?" he called, "Hey, Steph? You're right. I shouldn't wake my dad... and I can't tape my own ribs." No answer, "Stephanie? Hello?"
Jericho was about to knock again when the door swung open. "So, you finally admit you're wrong?"
"I didn't say I was wrong. I just said you were right!"
"Same difference," Stephanie replied.
"Is not!"
"Is too-- no! We're not going to start this argument again. You want me to help you or not?"
"Yes. Here," he handed her the roll.
"Ok. Back in your room," the two headed back into Chris's room, "First I'll have to take off the rest of the old stuff,"
Jericho tied his hair back and sat on the bed, "Go ahead," he replied, then closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the pain.
Stephanie sat behind him and gently stripped off the old bandage layer by layer. She flinched as she revealed the numerous black and blue blotches that marred his otherwise perfect skin, "Ugh..." she said, "This looks gross,"
"Thank you, Dr. Stephanie," Chris replied sarcastically, "Is that your professional opinion?" he asked.
Stephanie didn't answer as she ran her fingers gently over the bruises, gasping at the damage, "Hunter really did a number on you, didn't he?"
Jericho shivered at her touch, then quickly regained his composure, "You think THAT'S bad?" he asked, "You should see the X-ray,"
"What, did you get it framed or something?" she replied smartly.
"Well I was going to give it to you for a birthday present. I figured you'd get some perverse pleasure out of seeing my broken bones,"
"Well, I DO like seeing jerks get their comeuppance!" She replied.
"I know," he answered, "I remember!"
Stephanie stared at his bruised back, then spoke quietly, "I DIDN'T like seeing Hunter attack you like that. Even when we WERE together,"
Jericho turned his head to look at her, "I saw you smiling the first time he did it, Steph. About a year ago. I rememember it very clearly!"
Stephanie couldn't meet his eyes, "I was scared he'd take his anger out on ME if I didn't laugh,"
"Oh please! Trip is many things, but not a wife beater!" Jericho replied.
"He doesn't have to touch me to be abusive. His temper was enough to send me---" she stopped and shook her head, "You're right, Chris. He never touched me. But I was always scared it would only be a matter of time before--"
"Listen," Jericho interrupted quickly, "I'm the last person you want to have a personal conversation about Trip with, Stephanie,"
Stephanie frowned, "Would you use it against me?" she asked coldly.
Chris paused for a moment, then spoke quietly, "No. No I wouldn't. But... I don't think you want to trust me yet. At least, I'm not ready to trust YOU. So... just tape me up, and go to bed,"
Stephanie nodded. He was probably right. It had been a little more then a month since she had changed sides. She shouldn't expect to have a personal conversation with the man she'd hated for the last year and a half.
So why did it feel so comfortable?
