Author's Note: Nothing much to say here except… Read and review please! I need to know if my fic is good enough to continue and stuff.
Disclaimer and Copyright: You don't possibly believe that I own everything, do you?
Summary: Sylvan Grenier left his girlfriend eight years ago. Both parties haven't contacted each other for a long time. So, unfortunately, when these two met, they have no idea how their ex looked like those years ago. Will they regain their lost memories? Or will they continue to be stranded away from each other?
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Eight years ago…
"Syl… I have to tell you something…" Sylvan Grenier fixed his hazel-green eyes on his girlfriend.
"What is it?" he asked, noting the nervously anxious look on her face.
"I don't know how to say this but I hope you won't take this too hard…" she bit her bottom lip.
Sylvan walked over to her and hugged her affectionately. He loved her a lot and whatever that happened to her, he would always love her.
"I will always love you, sweetheart. You're the only one for me," Sylvan told her.
"I'm pregnant, Syl. The doctors confirmed it. They said that it's a boy," she said, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.
Sylvan froze at the spot. He couldn't believe it. Amara was pregnant. He didn't want that.
"You're… what?" he asked, not believing what he was hearing.
"I'm pregnant, Syl," Amara repeated.
"Oh… okay…" he released her from his grip.
"Syl, are you okay?" Amara asked timidly.
"I'm fine…" Sylvan muttered.
He headed for the door hurriedly. He didn't want to face Nora right now and let her talk about the baby.
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Nine months later…"Syl! Where are you going?!" Amara asked, seeing her boyfriend pack her bags.
"I'm going out," he mumbled.
"But you just can't leave me here like this! Syl! It's already nine months! Syl! Don't go! Come back!" Amara cried.
Sylvan stopped in his tracks and looked at his pregnant girlfriend. Sure, he didn't want to face the facts that he was a father at the age of 18. His girlfriend had just turned 16. She was too young to give up on their unborn child.
Sighing, he went to the phone and called her sister, Annette. He told her that Amara needed her badly because of her pregnancy.
"I'm sorry, Mara. But I just can't stay. I can't feed my young child. I haven't even worked yet. I'm sorry," Sylvan told Amara in a low tone.
"But I'm only 16, Syl! What about the pain I have to go through!?" Amara shouted at him.
He merely shook his head and left the apartment with his bags. He spotted his sister's car driving close and hurriedly drove off. Sylvan really didn't want to meet her right now.
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RAW's Superstars' Locker Room (Eight years later)…Sylvan took out the framed photo of him and his ex-girlfriend, whom he left because she was pregnant with his child. His face could be clearly seen, smiling happily and all. But his girlfriend's face couldn't be seen at all. It was all because his previous girlfriend had been jealous that his ex was prettier and had smashed the glass and scribbled her face with a permanent black marker.
"Syl, man, you totally zoned out," Rob Van Dam waved his hand in front of his face.
"Sorry Rob, it's just that-," Sylvan couldn't finish his apology because Rob had snatched the photo from his hands.
"Whoa… who scratched her face out?" Rob asked, surprised.
"My ex was jealous of my first ex so she scribbled on top of her face," Sylvan explained, grinning at Rob's statement.
"Whoa… she must be quite a looker then. That body is… wow. No wonder your ex was jealous. This lady could outdo Trish in a bikini competition," Rob whistled.
"Hey! That's my ex you're talking about!" Sylvan played along.
Just then, René burst in, wearing his beret and trench coat. Rob Conway was standing behind him, holding the French flag.
"Syl, we're up in five minutes. Hurry up and get ready," René said in a clipped tone.
"Alright Ren. Rob, give that back," Sylvan took the photo away and stuffed it in his bag.
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Meanwhile…Amara Michaels (no relation to Shawn Michaels whatsoever) was backstage in the arena. She'd come to Cleveland, Ohio, to watch RAW live. But also, she wanted to surprise her friend, Trish Stratus, whom she knew from Canada.
"Excuse me, do you know where the Divas' locker room is?" Amara asked someone.
"Down the hall and the right. You can't miss it," the man said.
"Thanks," Amara thanked him.
"Mommy, who are we going to visit?" her son, Nick, asked.
"She's a friend of mine, Nick. Remember Trish Stratus, the woman who visited us last month?" Amara told her son.
"Oh! The lady with the fake blond hair and whose boob job looks as real as Pamela Anderson's? She was nice," Nick said innocently.
"Nick! Don't mention that to her! Be nice!" Amara chided him with a smile on her lips.
When she got no answer, Amara started to panic. Nick wasn't with her. He'd run off!
"Nick! Where are you?!" she called. Being a 24-year-old mother to an 8-year-old son was hard…
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Divas Locker Room…The door suddenly banged open, scaring the Divas inside as they hurriedly covered themselves.
"Shane! I told you! Kane isn't here!" Lita shouted.
After the entire hubbub dispersed, the Divas turned to face a cheekily smiling young boy at the doorway. Trish kicked the door shut and pulled a T-shirt over her bra before going to ask the boy some questions.
"Didn't his mom teach him any manners?" Stacy muttered as Trish closed the door behind her.
"Hey Nick! How'd you get in here?" Trish asked the 8-year-old happily.
"My mommy brought me. She said that she wanted to surprise you," Nick answered equally happy.
"Well, let's go find her right now then. We could go out after RAW later maybe," Trish took the young boy's hand and led him away from the Divas locker room.
On their way to search for Amara, Nick's mother, they met with La Résistance, who'd just finished their match. They fixed their eyes on young Nick.
"Who is this young American? I thought children weren't allowed backstage?" Sylvan asked, smiling at Nick.
"FYI, Sylvie, Nick is Canadian like us. And he came with her mother, whom we're looking for," Trish retorted nastily.
Sylvan, René and Conway cracked up. Trish rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Who's his mommy?" Sylvan asked between laughs, "a 60-year-old woman?"
"Hey! My mommy is a beautiful 24-year-old woman with auburn hair and a perfect figure! If anyone of you was my daddy, I'd tell mommy to dump him," Nick exclaimed angrily.
"Whoa… the little man talks. Anyway, see you later, Trishy wishy," the three men left.
"How egoistical…" Trish huffed.
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Well, that's about it! Remember, R & R! Please?