A/N: Just for amusement purposes, I decided to show all of you how my musi originally tried to end this story. They were a little slaphappy, and it took me a while to convince them that it wouldn't fit well with the rest of the story. But nonetheless, here is my first draft of the sixth chapter.

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Christian, being the vain creature he was, was yet again watching his reflection in the bathroom mirror of his hotel room. This time, however, he wasn't simply admiring. He was pressing under his eye lightly, examining the small bruise. It was small, yes, but a flaw still. He sighed.

Maybe he had pushed his brother a little too far this time.

Of course, Christian wasn't sorry. Edge should have seen it coming. He knew Christian better than to not expect much colder revenge for the whole Jeff incident than just hitting him with a chair or two. That had just been childish frustration.

There was a knock on the door. Looking past his reflection, Christian saw Lance get up from his laptop and head towards the door. "Uh, Christian?"

"Yeah?" he asked back, taking one last look at himself before backing away from the mirror.

"It's... Edge."

Christian had come from the bathroom and he attempted to paste on a bewildered look, finding Lance double checking what he'd seen through the peephole. "What the hell does he want?"

"How should I know?" Lance asked.

"Go ahead, let's see what he wants."

"Maybe he wants to give you a matching shiner for your other eye."

Christian sneered. He had hoped it wasn't that visible. "Thanks, Lance."

"I'm just saying..."

Christian pulled him away from the door and opened it, not bothering to see what Edge was doing before he opened the door. It turned out that he was standing in the middle of the hall, head hanging slightly, wearing those obnoxious sunglasses as usual, hands in his pockets. He raised his glance slightly as the door opened and Christian could almost see the death glare through Edge's reflective shades.

"We need to talk."

"Like hell," Christian answered defiantly, dying to hear what Edge had to say, but still putting on a show for Lance.

"Now," Edge responded, shooting a hand out quickly to grab the coller of Christian's shirt and yank him in the hallway.

"Hey, -!" Lance started, but the fact that Christian wasn't objecting too physically, coupled with the harsh way Edge snapped his glance to Lance, convinced him to let Christian go.

"Easy on the shirt!" Christian griped through clenched teeth as he tried to fight off his brother's hold. Edge ignored him and dragged him down the hall. Lance debated following to help, but when Christian freed himself finally and kept following Edge, he washed his hands of it and went back to his computer.

"Where are we going?" Christian whined.

"Somewhere private," Edge muttered, trying to make sure that no one was paying attention to them. After a couple winding hallways, Edge finally stopped at a small room with an ice machine and a soda machine. Christian knitted his brow in confusion, trying to figure out why Edge chose here for whatever it was that he wanted. Couldn't he have kicked out Hogan or whoever it was he was traveling with these days and gone to his room?

Turning back to his brother, Christian started to question him. "What are you -?"

"Here," Edge said, forcefully shoving a handful of paper scraps at Christian.

Christian took them, confused, and started straightening them. "What's all this?"

"Jeff's cell number. Jeff's home number. Matt's cell and home numbers. Lita's too, I think. Take them. Track Jeff down. Call him. Tell him how you feel."

Christian's jaw dropped as that registered. He slowly lifted his eyes to Edge, glaring. He saw the desperation in Edge's face. He was honestly afraid that Christian was going to win Jericho over.

"Fuck you, Edge," Christian growled, throwing the papers at him. "I can't fucking believe your nerve sometimes."

Edge narrowed his eyes, and Christian stuck his tongue out at him. This only made Edge angrier, and he swung weakly, scoring a limp wristed slap on Christian. Christian's eyes widened in surprise, and he swung back, the same way. Before they knew what was going on, they were in a full fledged 'limp wristed slap fight,' both swinging blindly as they turned their faces away, wincing.

"What the hell is going on here?" a voice growled.

Edge and Christian opened their squinted eyes to see who had found them. Immediately, Christian backed off from Edge and cried with an accusatory finger, "He started it!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

The limp wristed slap fight resumed.

"Stop it!" Triple H yelled, startling the both of them. Edge sneered at Christian, who just stuck out his tongue in reply.

"Is this about Jericho?" Triple H asked, accusatorily.

Edge and Christian hesitated, then, doing his best impression of Ashton Kutcher from Dude, Where's my Car?, Edge responded, "Nooooo...."

Triple H rolled his eyes, then grabbed the brothers viciously by an ear each. "Come on, kids, it's time to apologize for giving him a complex."

He dragged Edge and Christian down the hall, the two of them yelping and wimpering in pain before he finally let go of them infront of a door so he could find his key. Edge and Christian stood there, rubbing their sore ears and waiting with sour looks on their faces. They could hear eighties metal blasting even through the thick door of the hotel. After a moment, Triple H unlocked the door and let it swing open.

Edge and Christian watched in twisted fascination, unable to turn away. There was Jericho. The man that the both of them had been unable to get out of their heads was now jumping around the room in his pink sparkly jumpsuit, singing off-key and at the top of his lungs to the terrible hair metal, and playing air guitar. No one spoke for a moment, and Jericho, engrossed in his music took no notice of his audience of three.

Finally swallowing to wet his tongue, Christian spoke as quietly as he could to still be heard over the music to Triple H. "We did that to him?"

He sounded almost mournful. Edge had a sad look on his face that matched Christian's tone. They were sorry to have created that.

"Oh, no," Triple H chuckled. "He was always like that. You did this."

With that, he stepped into the room and called Jericho's name. Jericho, who'd just jumped onto the foot of the bed, was thoroughly startled and lost his footing, falling to the floor with a heavy crash. Triple H knelt next to him, helping him sit up and making sure he was ok. He blushed and smiled at Triple H. Edge and Christian couldn't hear what Triple H was saying to Jericho, but after a second, he pointed at Edge and Christian and Jericho's smile dissolved immediately. He jumped up to his feet and ducked behind Triple H, who was also getting to his feet. Triple H reached over and turned off Jericho's boom box so he could talk to Edge and Christian.

"It's ok, babe, I won't let them do anything to you."

Edge and Christian exchanged confused glances. Babe?

"What do you want?" Jericho demanded furiously, just barely leaning past Triple H's arm to look at the brothers. He was still holding onto Triple H nervously.

"Um," Christian cleared his throat. "Well..."

"We're sorry," Edge interrupted him. "Real sorry. Come on, Chris, let's get out of here."

Christian looked up to his brother slightly surprised, then back to Jericho. Upon making eye contact, Jericho stuck his tongue out at Christian. Unable to refuse a taunt, Christian did the same back. Edge shook his head and grabbed Christian by the shoulders and dragged him away, shutting the door behind them.

The two sighed in unison, then walked in silence to the end of the hall.

"You know what this means, though," Christian finally broke the silence.

Edge grabbed his sunglasses from his pocket and slid them back on. "What?"

Christian smirked. "We so totally turned Jericho."

"Yeah we did!" Edge grinned and high fived Christian. "And you know what else?"

"What?"

"Not only did we turn him, but we totally made him turn Triple H!"

"Yeah we did!" Christian laughed, high fiving Edge again. "We still got it!"