(Holy cow! I updated – yeah, I've had these next three chapters laying around the apartment for some time, I just hadn't typed them up. Hope ya'll enjoy, and I'll try to update faster, I swear!)

ix. Benoit.

It's hard, trying to find that flicker of hope, that sparkle that says she's still alive.

It's been weeks…

5 weeks, 2 days, thirteen hours…

The world doesn't know what I'd give for her…to find her.

Alive.

Safe.

I'd give my life to see my baby sister run into Chris Jericho's arms, even if deep down it made me sick.

It didn't matter –

He brought her a happiness I couldn't begin to fathom…

And if it brought a smile to Reese's face, a sparkle to cerulean eyes…

So be it.

They want to pack her belongings away, want to say…

Reese Christina Benoit was dead.

Is dead.

Sadly, though, I'm starting to believe the voices.

The voice – of reason.

Jericho, however, was still stubborn as hell, claiming that 'his angel' would come back to him.

He plays her guitar.

He talks as if she's there, listening to him….

Reese is dead…she has to be.

Reese is dead, and Chris Jericho is slowly losing his mind.