Unforeseen
__
"HEY! It's Chris Jericho!"
I stopped, wanting to snap the three boys surrounding me suddenly off. It's not that I didn't like signing autographs. My mind, however, was engaged in another activity. My mind was engaged in searching the corridors for someone, a very special someone . . .
"Can you sign my book?"
Of course, what do you think I'm going to do? Irritably, I signed their papers, smiled for a picture, and sent them off. They were clean-cut, and looked better suited to be mingling in a science fair rather than a wrestling match. Shaking my head, I flashed my identification badge at the security guard, who waved me pass his barricade indifferently. My eyes immediately went back to scanning the corridors for my special someone.
However, the halls were empty.
Growling in frustration, I chose an empty locker room and tossed my bag down sloppily. I was three hours early to the show; I had come early to prowl the arena for Stephanie McMahon. As she was strictly the Smackdown manager, she usually didn't come to Raw and mingle. But of course, her fiancée was a Raw Superstar and I had seen her on his arm more than once in the past few weeks.
I snarled to myself at the thought of her fiancée.
What did she see in Triple H anyway?
"Chris! Mi hombre Christopher, Alamo!"
I paused, and turned around, glaring as Jay Reso bounded up the hall. "It's alto, idiot."
He stopped short of me and said breathlessly, "What?"
"Alto, not Alamo. Alamo is a place, genius. I would have hoped you'd know that by now."
"I am Canadian," he objected loftily.
"Yeah, well, so am I and you don't hear me running around saying "Alamo."
"Everybody's a critic," he said, rolling his eyes. In mid- roll, he was fixated by the door to my locker room. "It wouldn't be so much to ask if I could share your room, is it?"
I nodded, but he was already half-way through the door. Typical Jay. "I'm going to find the booker," I called inside the room, already stepping away. Don't let him come out here, let him stay in . . .
"Wait for me!" Jay yelped, sliding on the polished tile out into the hallway. "Wait!"
"Didn't give me much a chance, did you?" I said sourly as we headed down the hall.
Smiling tightly at me, he said, "So what are you going to do on your vacation?"
"What vacation?" I asked vaguely.
He rolled his eyes in mock confusion. "What vacation? What vacation? Are you serious? Do you hear yourself? It's only the vacation that was begged for; the only vacation that we're going to get for another year; tell me you remember, my friend, tell me the shock of it hasn't erased everything inside you?"
Oh yeah, now I remembered. Three glorious weeks off shows, house or televised; time to relax, vacation, and mourn. Stephanie herself had begged for the reprieve from her father and worn, Vince had given in to her demands. It had worked out nicely; it worked out wonderfully for those who had families to go home to. For those unfortunate enough not to, the holiday looked bleak.
"Dramatic," I grumbled to Jay.
__
"I'll see you later, Chris," Jay told me, his hand on the doorknob of the room, ready to twist. "If you need something to do over the vacation, you can come to my house. You know my mother adores you for reasons beyond my grasp."
"Tell your mom I said hi." I slowly laced the two laces of my Sketchers.
"Seriously, Chris, if you need some company, swing by," Jay insisted. There was a pounding inside my temple. "I know you've only got your dog, and if you really need-"
"Thanks, Jay, I'll consider," I said loudly, drowning out his voice, not allowing myself to look up.
There was a delicate pause, and then he said coldly, "Alright, have a nice holiday, Chris."
"You too," I said, but he was already gone. In frustration, I finished tying my shoes and stood up. Despairingly, I swung my bag up on my shoulder and started out the door. It was a classic case, Jay had once told me, of puppy love. Dr. Jay had prescribed a hardy drink at least twice a day, proficient helpings of painkillers, and some mindless nights of clubbing. The symptoms, Dr. Jay had told me solemnly, were frustration, seclusion from the many things that had once made you happy, and bouts of despair. For a free kit of information, pay Dr. Jay a million dollars and he shall cure you instantly.
Obviously, Dr. Jay had issues.
Well, a drink would be nice. I hadn't consumed yet, but the night was fresh and young and alive. That was the way to be thinking. I couldn't have Stephanie, of course, but she wasn't stopping me from living. She wasn't stopping me from taking my power and striving ahead into the future. I couldn't have her, but she didn't hold the cup over my head, bar me from my pleasures, took away everything that was good besides her. Oh yes, I could live. In fact, a drink and some clubbing and that would cure her. Oh yes, she didn't have the power, she didn't prevent me from any of my daily life, her name didn't run over and over in my mind, cawing-
"Stephanie!"
Her face wide in surprise, a little tinge of pain, she fell from my violent collision. Gasping, I caught her before she hit the floor, cradling her.
"Stephanie, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Can you breathe? Can you hear me?"
"I'm fine, Chris," she assured me, laughing, standing up from my arms. Her brown eyes were warm and her lips alit into a smile. My heart fluttered and dropped. She was so beautiful. "Where are you heading to in such a hurry?"
Put on the good face, Christopher, put it on and don't let her see how much it hurts you. "Nowhere special," I replied, grinning. "I'm just eager to be on vacation, you know." I paused. "You know, Steph, it was really nice of you to tell her father to let us have a few weeks off, really."
For a moment, the smile on her face faltered, and I saw a sliver of pain in her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh, it was no problem, really. I need some time off myself, so don't think it was all for you."
I laughed. "Of course I don't. I know how you are, Stephanie. But I'm glad you asked for all of us off, not just yourself."
She smiled again, and this time I almost died.
"Well, I've got to run." She checked her watch. "I'm a little late. I was heading that way." She was pointing down the corner where I had just swung from and into her. "But I'm glad I ran into you."
"Rather, I ran into you," I said, smiling goofily.
Her face lit. "Yes, that's true. Well, you know, I've really got to head off. Hunter, you know . . ."
The smile slipped off my face. I felt cold churn inside my stomach. "Yea, of course," I muttered, turning away from her, feeling my cheeks flame. "Have a nice vacation."
I heard her heels clicking away, and I felt a piece of heart start to shrivel and burn. Nevermore, nevermore, quote the Raven, nevermore. I started away, my feet feeling as though weights were tied securely to the bottom.
"Chris! Wait!"
I swung around.
She was clicking my way madly, and she stopped a mere inch from my chest. "Have a good vacation," she whispered, and stood up on her toes to kiss my cheek.
I stood frozen. *She kissed me.*
I felt something inside burst.
She smiled at me, nodded quickly, and ran the other way, dashing around the corner and disappearing from view. I stood shock still. She kissed me. Stephanie McMahon had actually kissed me. Stephanie McMahon had kissed ME.
I wanted to fly.
I practically skipped out of the arena, and hit frozen air. It was chilly and there was a cold breeze stirring the leaves of the trees around me, but I was warmed. Who cared about the weather? The stars were hidden by the many lights of the city, but I could see them. They were twinkling brightly, smiling at me, God's little angels.
She . . . .
Who cared about a drink? Drinks made you forget everything, didn't they? Did I want to forget that sweet moment, that wonderful moment when her beautiful eyes had been inches from mine? Did I want to forget that moment when her lips had made contact with my skin?
Kissed . . .
Granted, she had grazed my cheek, but hadn't she kissed me? She had made a conscious decision, right? I hadn't forced her, had I? I hadn't done anything to hurt her; she had come and kissed me out of her own decision. The lights from the city were cutting into my vision, brightly, but what did I care?
Me . . .
I swung around a dark corner into a semi-crowded alley. Doors lined the heavy wood. There were harsh lights that illuminated the puddles of water on the stone floor. I felt a childish urge to run and jump in the puddles. I would wet whoever was in this alley, drench them in this dirty water and let them feel my pleasure.
She . . .
I could barely contain my excitement. Life had never tasted to crisp and beautiful. Ah, everything was so beautiful. I was only a little way into the alley; I wondered that if I screamed my happiness, if they would hear me. I bet the sound would funnel up and out of the tunnel, of yes, this would be wonderful.
Kissed . . .
I could proclaim my love to the world, so help me God. This could funnel the sound, this could funnel every sound. These bricks would make a good echo, I bet. I bet all the people in the city would hear. Ah yes, this would be wonderful, everything would-
BOOM.
"AAARGHHHHHHHHH!"
Agony! Agony, agony, AGONY!
My face was on fire! Agony, ripping, burning, pulling, tearing!
BOOM.
I felt my body ripple and I felt myself flying back. I slammed into the pavement.
I went blind as the agony reached my face. White flares went off in my eyes.
Make . . .
Agony, pain, pain, pain, ripping, tearing, PAIN!
I screamed madly, flailing, clutching my face. I was on fire, I was burning, I was dying!
It . . .
"Hang on, fella, the ambulance is here.
BOOM.
I screamed, tearing at my face, wanting it to end.
STOP!
I writhed, contorted in pain. I was pain, and pain was me, and where I ended, it began, and where it ended, I began.
Just . . .
Please . . .
I felt something swooping into me, embracing me, bringing me into being . . .
Make . . .
I felt blood curdle in my throat.
Please make . . .
"Help is coming!"
Pain wrapped around me, embraced it . . .
Please make it stop . . .
The pain blinded me, knocked me, covered me.
Darkness.
__
Acrid smells, the harsh sound of metal against metal.
Darkness had wrapped me in its arms, and I shook them off my shoulders.
I felt panic.
"Help! HELP!"
"Sir, calm down, sir!"
"Why can't I see?" I screamed out, my throat sore. My whole body ached, but I couldn't see. I . . . couldn't . . . see! "Why can't I see? Help me!"
I had to be in a bed, had to be in a hospital, had to be, had to be, had to be!
"Why can't I see?" I roared, wriggling my fingers, moving my toes.
"Calm down, sir! You're in a hospital, General West Hope Hospital! Calm down, I'm a doctor!"
I pawed at my face.
I froze.
"Bandages," I croaked. "Why are there bandages on my face? Why can't I see?"
I heard the voice from my left. I turned there, blindly seeking. See, see, see, see!
Only darkness, only darkness speckled with white.
"Sir, please, calm down. What's your name?"
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" I yelled at him, feeling my face, ignoring the rest of the aches in my body.
"My name is Dr. Arnold West, sir," said the deep-toned voice. "Please, tell me your name and I'll tell you what's wrong."
I could barely control the terror. "My name's Chris Irvine."
I heard him make an approving noise. "That's very good, Chris. You're in General West Hope Hospital, in the ICU. You're not in life-threatening danger, I assure you. Do you remember what happened?"
"Why would I be asking you if I did?" I snarled, my voice shaking.
He continued on in a calm voice. "I see you don't. There was an explosion. The police say somebody was mixing different solutions, like a science project. Unfortunately, the solutions or whatever the person was making, exploded. It was an unknown type of explosion, and it spilled acid onto the street. You were in the close vicinity of the door, but managed to miss most of the acid. Some, however, was spilled onto your face, or particularly your right eye. Your left eye also, which is why both your eyes are bandaged."
I had my eyes opened, but all I could see is darkness. My eyelids ached fiercely. "What's wrong with me?"
"You see, the acid is unknown. Any acid is harmful to eyes, but this acid is very bad. We were able to get most off before it was able to reach your brain, which is very good. You won't suffer any lasting damage to your brain, it seems, but tests will tell. However-"
"Why can't I see?" I asked hoarsely.
I heard him sigh. "I have danced around the answer, true, but-"
"WHY CAN'T I SEE?"
He sighed again. Dread rose in me. My stomach felt cold. I started to tremble.
"It's because, Chris, the acid damaged your cornea, retina, and optical lens, more in your right eye than in the left, though the left suffered some damage as well."
"What does that mean?" I whispered, but I knew the answer. I knew the answer and I wanted to scream.
"It means, Chris, that you may very well be blind."
__
A/N: Please review!
__
"HEY! It's Chris Jericho!"
I stopped, wanting to snap the three boys surrounding me suddenly off. It's not that I didn't like signing autographs. My mind, however, was engaged in another activity. My mind was engaged in searching the corridors for someone, a very special someone . . .
"Can you sign my book?"
Of course, what do you think I'm going to do? Irritably, I signed their papers, smiled for a picture, and sent them off. They were clean-cut, and looked better suited to be mingling in a science fair rather than a wrestling match. Shaking my head, I flashed my identification badge at the security guard, who waved me pass his barricade indifferently. My eyes immediately went back to scanning the corridors for my special someone.
However, the halls were empty.
Growling in frustration, I chose an empty locker room and tossed my bag down sloppily. I was three hours early to the show; I had come early to prowl the arena for Stephanie McMahon. As she was strictly the Smackdown manager, she usually didn't come to Raw and mingle. But of course, her fiancée was a Raw Superstar and I had seen her on his arm more than once in the past few weeks.
I snarled to myself at the thought of her fiancée.
What did she see in Triple H anyway?
"Chris! Mi hombre Christopher, Alamo!"
I paused, and turned around, glaring as Jay Reso bounded up the hall. "It's alto, idiot."
He stopped short of me and said breathlessly, "What?"
"Alto, not Alamo. Alamo is a place, genius. I would have hoped you'd know that by now."
"I am Canadian," he objected loftily.
"Yeah, well, so am I and you don't hear me running around saying "Alamo."
"Everybody's a critic," he said, rolling his eyes. In mid- roll, he was fixated by the door to my locker room. "It wouldn't be so much to ask if I could share your room, is it?"
I nodded, but he was already half-way through the door. Typical Jay. "I'm going to find the booker," I called inside the room, already stepping away. Don't let him come out here, let him stay in . . .
"Wait for me!" Jay yelped, sliding on the polished tile out into the hallway. "Wait!"
"Didn't give me much a chance, did you?" I said sourly as we headed down the hall.
Smiling tightly at me, he said, "So what are you going to do on your vacation?"
"What vacation?" I asked vaguely.
He rolled his eyes in mock confusion. "What vacation? What vacation? Are you serious? Do you hear yourself? It's only the vacation that was begged for; the only vacation that we're going to get for another year; tell me you remember, my friend, tell me the shock of it hasn't erased everything inside you?"
Oh yeah, now I remembered. Three glorious weeks off shows, house or televised; time to relax, vacation, and mourn. Stephanie herself had begged for the reprieve from her father and worn, Vince had given in to her demands. It had worked out nicely; it worked out wonderfully for those who had families to go home to. For those unfortunate enough not to, the holiday looked bleak.
"Dramatic," I grumbled to Jay.
__
"I'll see you later, Chris," Jay told me, his hand on the doorknob of the room, ready to twist. "If you need something to do over the vacation, you can come to my house. You know my mother adores you for reasons beyond my grasp."
"Tell your mom I said hi." I slowly laced the two laces of my Sketchers.
"Seriously, Chris, if you need some company, swing by," Jay insisted. There was a pounding inside my temple. "I know you've only got your dog, and if you really need-"
"Thanks, Jay, I'll consider," I said loudly, drowning out his voice, not allowing myself to look up.
There was a delicate pause, and then he said coldly, "Alright, have a nice holiday, Chris."
"You too," I said, but he was already gone. In frustration, I finished tying my shoes and stood up. Despairingly, I swung my bag up on my shoulder and started out the door. It was a classic case, Jay had once told me, of puppy love. Dr. Jay had prescribed a hardy drink at least twice a day, proficient helpings of painkillers, and some mindless nights of clubbing. The symptoms, Dr. Jay had told me solemnly, were frustration, seclusion from the many things that had once made you happy, and bouts of despair. For a free kit of information, pay Dr. Jay a million dollars and he shall cure you instantly.
Obviously, Dr. Jay had issues.
Well, a drink would be nice. I hadn't consumed yet, but the night was fresh and young and alive. That was the way to be thinking. I couldn't have Stephanie, of course, but she wasn't stopping me from living. She wasn't stopping me from taking my power and striving ahead into the future. I couldn't have her, but she didn't hold the cup over my head, bar me from my pleasures, took away everything that was good besides her. Oh yes, I could live. In fact, a drink and some clubbing and that would cure her. Oh yes, she didn't have the power, she didn't prevent me from any of my daily life, her name didn't run over and over in my mind, cawing-
"Stephanie!"
Her face wide in surprise, a little tinge of pain, she fell from my violent collision. Gasping, I caught her before she hit the floor, cradling her.
"Stephanie, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Can you breathe? Can you hear me?"
"I'm fine, Chris," she assured me, laughing, standing up from my arms. Her brown eyes were warm and her lips alit into a smile. My heart fluttered and dropped. She was so beautiful. "Where are you heading to in such a hurry?"
Put on the good face, Christopher, put it on and don't let her see how much it hurts you. "Nowhere special," I replied, grinning. "I'm just eager to be on vacation, you know." I paused. "You know, Steph, it was really nice of you to tell her father to let us have a few weeks off, really."
For a moment, the smile on her face faltered, and I saw a sliver of pain in her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh, it was no problem, really. I need some time off myself, so don't think it was all for you."
I laughed. "Of course I don't. I know how you are, Stephanie. But I'm glad you asked for all of us off, not just yourself."
She smiled again, and this time I almost died.
"Well, I've got to run." She checked her watch. "I'm a little late. I was heading that way." She was pointing down the corner where I had just swung from and into her. "But I'm glad I ran into you."
"Rather, I ran into you," I said, smiling goofily.
Her face lit. "Yes, that's true. Well, you know, I've really got to head off. Hunter, you know . . ."
The smile slipped off my face. I felt cold churn inside my stomach. "Yea, of course," I muttered, turning away from her, feeling my cheeks flame. "Have a nice vacation."
I heard her heels clicking away, and I felt a piece of heart start to shrivel and burn. Nevermore, nevermore, quote the Raven, nevermore. I started away, my feet feeling as though weights were tied securely to the bottom.
"Chris! Wait!"
I swung around.
She was clicking my way madly, and she stopped a mere inch from my chest. "Have a good vacation," she whispered, and stood up on her toes to kiss my cheek.
I stood frozen. *She kissed me.*
I felt something inside burst.
She smiled at me, nodded quickly, and ran the other way, dashing around the corner and disappearing from view. I stood shock still. She kissed me. Stephanie McMahon had actually kissed me. Stephanie McMahon had kissed ME.
I wanted to fly.
I practically skipped out of the arena, and hit frozen air. It was chilly and there was a cold breeze stirring the leaves of the trees around me, but I was warmed. Who cared about the weather? The stars were hidden by the many lights of the city, but I could see them. They were twinkling brightly, smiling at me, God's little angels.
She . . . .
Who cared about a drink? Drinks made you forget everything, didn't they? Did I want to forget that sweet moment, that wonderful moment when her beautiful eyes had been inches from mine? Did I want to forget that moment when her lips had made contact with my skin?
Kissed . . .
Granted, she had grazed my cheek, but hadn't she kissed me? She had made a conscious decision, right? I hadn't forced her, had I? I hadn't done anything to hurt her; she had come and kissed me out of her own decision. The lights from the city were cutting into my vision, brightly, but what did I care?
Me . . .
I swung around a dark corner into a semi-crowded alley. Doors lined the heavy wood. There were harsh lights that illuminated the puddles of water on the stone floor. I felt a childish urge to run and jump in the puddles. I would wet whoever was in this alley, drench them in this dirty water and let them feel my pleasure.
She . . .
I could barely contain my excitement. Life had never tasted to crisp and beautiful. Ah, everything was so beautiful. I was only a little way into the alley; I wondered that if I screamed my happiness, if they would hear me. I bet the sound would funnel up and out of the tunnel, of yes, this would be wonderful.
Kissed . . .
I could proclaim my love to the world, so help me God. This could funnel the sound, this could funnel every sound. These bricks would make a good echo, I bet. I bet all the people in the city would hear. Ah yes, this would be wonderful, everything would-
BOOM.
"AAARGHHHHHHHHH!"
Agony! Agony, agony, AGONY!
My face was on fire! Agony, ripping, burning, pulling, tearing!
BOOM.
I felt my body ripple and I felt myself flying back. I slammed into the pavement.
I went blind as the agony reached my face. White flares went off in my eyes.
Make . . .
Agony, pain, pain, pain, ripping, tearing, PAIN!
I screamed madly, flailing, clutching my face. I was on fire, I was burning, I was dying!
It . . .
"Hang on, fella, the ambulance is here.
BOOM.
I screamed, tearing at my face, wanting it to end.
STOP!
I writhed, contorted in pain. I was pain, and pain was me, and where I ended, it began, and where it ended, I began.
Just . . .
Please . . .
I felt something swooping into me, embracing me, bringing me into being . . .
Make . . .
I felt blood curdle in my throat.
Please make . . .
"Help is coming!"
Pain wrapped around me, embraced it . . .
Please make it stop . . .
The pain blinded me, knocked me, covered me.
Darkness.
__
Acrid smells, the harsh sound of metal against metal.
Darkness had wrapped me in its arms, and I shook them off my shoulders.
I felt panic.
"Help! HELP!"
"Sir, calm down, sir!"
"Why can't I see?" I screamed out, my throat sore. My whole body ached, but I couldn't see. I . . . couldn't . . . see! "Why can't I see? Help me!"
I had to be in a bed, had to be in a hospital, had to be, had to be, had to be!
"Why can't I see?" I roared, wriggling my fingers, moving my toes.
"Calm down, sir! You're in a hospital, General West Hope Hospital! Calm down, I'm a doctor!"
I pawed at my face.
I froze.
"Bandages," I croaked. "Why are there bandages on my face? Why can't I see?"
I heard the voice from my left. I turned there, blindly seeking. See, see, see, see!
Only darkness, only darkness speckled with white.
"Sir, please, calm down. What's your name?"
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" I yelled at him, feeling my face, ignoring the rest of the aches in my body.
"My name is Dr. Arnold West, sir," said the deep-toned voice. "Please, tell me your name and I'll tell you what's wrong."
I could barely control the terror. "My name's Chris Irvine."
I heard him make an approving noise. "That's very good, Chris. You're in General West Hope Hospital, in the ICU. You're not in life-threatening danger, I assure you. Do you remember what happened?"
"Why would I be asking you if I did?" I snarled, my voice shaking.
He continued on in a calm voice. "I see you don't. There was an explosion. The police say somebody was mixing different solutions, like a science project. Unfortunately, the solutions or whatever the person was making, exploded. It was an unknown type of explosion, and it spilled acid onto the street. You were in the close vicinity of the door, but managed to miss most of the acid. Some, however, was spilled onto your face, or particularly your right eye. Your left eye also, which is why both your eyes are bandaged."
I had my eyes opened, but all I could see is darkness. My eyelids ached fiercely. "What's wrong with me?"
"You see, the acid is unknown. Any acid is harmful to eyes, but this acid is very bad. We were able to get most off before it was able to reach your brain, which is very good. You won't suffer any lasting damage to your brain, it seems, but tests will tell. However-"
"Why can't I see?" I asked hoarsely.
I heard him sigh. "I have danced around the answer, true, but-"
"WHY CAN'T I SEE?"
He sighed again. Dread rose in me. My stomach felt cold. I started to tremble.
"It's because, Chris, the acid damaged your cornea, retina, and optical lens, more in your right eye than in the left, though the left suffered some damage as well."
"What does that mean?" I whispered, but I knew the answer. I knew the answer and I wanted to scream.
"It means, Chris, that you may very well be blind."
__
A/N: Please review!