So, it's finally happened. I knew this day would come. Sick of their own repetetive crap, WWE writers have started reading ff.net and have ripped off my storyline! Come on, was anyone else just waiting for say...RVD to come sprinting down and save Lita last night? I know I was! Then I realized, "No, RAW could never get that good; it's just an excuse for Evolution to dominate the show (again)." Anyway, so what about Jericho and Trish? Is anyone else sensing a bitter-over-her-friend's-victory heel turn for Trish? Is anyone else *hoping* for it? I know I am! Trish and Lita had some awesome battles back in the T&A versus Team Xtreme days. Oh, and how about Kane and Shane's lovely little sit-down dinner? Would those two make the coolest buddies or what? Oh, and in response to LittleKnux2008: The way my laptop is set up and since I can only upload stories written in notepad, I can't use Spanish characters. ?Tan frustrado, no? Anyway, more story time.
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A dollar? Lita glared up at Triple H as he waved the bill in her face. True, Orton and Flair were not with him, but he'd brought along an even more intimidating one-man entourage, the recently-returned Batista. He stood behind Lita, blocking her escape. As much as she hated to turn her back on an enemy, she couldn't help focusing her stare-down on Triple H, telling him with her eyes where he could put his dollar.
He advanced on her. Where were the boys? They'd be out here if they could, which was what scared her most. Hopefully they weren't injured. "All I wanted to do was come talk some smack about Molly before our rematch next week," she sighed to herself. "Only this bastard can screw up a plan *that* simple."
"I thought I told you to dance for me," he sneered. "If you don't, then-"
She snatched the dollar and crammed it into his mouth, deciding that shutting him up was definitely worth any violent retaliation. Batista grabbed her from behind, and held her arms back.
"Here it comes," she thought, squeezing her eyes shut.
A loud crack sounded through the arena as the chair slammed into Batista's back. It was then that Lita heard the music, an energizing, thumping drum beat intwined almost randomly with whining electric guitar chords. Batista collapsed behind her.
The chair swung down, hard, on Triple H's skull, and he went down. The chair dropped to the mat, next to its lifeless victim. Matt turned to her.
His eyes were desperate, begging. All the things he should have said before, all his apologies and explanations, were telegraphed to her in that one look. He moved his lips wordlessly, searching for the right thing to say, the thing that could make her forgive him.
So many messages sent, in that short period of time. So many things he didn't have words strong enough for. "I'msorryForgivemeI'msorryIloveyouI'msorryIthoughtitwasbestIlovedyouIwasscaredI'msorryGivemeanotherchanceI'msorry."
He stood there, towering over her but looking small and weak, terrified. He wore his old clothes, had his hair down loose and long, the silly Version 1.0 gimmick abandoned. He stood there, the man she'd loved.
She searched her heart desperately for a thread of anger to hold onto, to shield herself with, and found none. She could only stare back at him, and all her eyes asked was, "Why?"
He stepped towards her, and it was like before, so long ago. Her enemy lay defeated on the ground, having been taken out by a chairshot from Matt. They'd just been friends then; she hadn't asked for his protection, but he couldn't help but give it. And then, at the end, as they were celebrating her victory, he'd leaned toward her...
Matt leaned toward her...
His lips had found hers, quickly, impulsively...
Matt kissed her, a gut reaction, and drew quickly back away...
He'd backed off, apologizing...
"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I just, I just thought, I'm sorry." He slid out of the ring, shaking his head...
He'd ran off from her, cursing his own stupidity, all the way back up the ramp...
She slid out of the ring, stalked towards him...
She'd followed him, then, after recovering from her moment of shock. He'd avoided her, still apologizes...
Lita put her hand on his lips...
Then she'd leaned forward...
Lita pulled him toward her, kissed him like she had that first time, in forgiveness and reconciliation. The past and the present merged in that one moment, as their lips pressed against each other in one flesh.
"I'm sorry," was all he could murmur, over and over. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't know why I did. I was scared."
"Don't," she said against his lips, running her fingers through his long black strands. "It's okay now; we're gonna be okay now."
"I loved you so much, and when you got hurt, when I realized I could lose you, it terrified me. So, I saw an opportunity to be free of my responsibility, to be free of the people I loved, and I jumped."
"Shhh...I know, it's okay. I'm fine now; we're okay."
"I don't want to lose you again."
"You won't." She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his heavy, clean scent, soap and man. She closed her eyes, safe and unworried in this moment.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her as close as the laws of physics would allow, stroked her hair.
Lita kissed his cheek, and opened her eyes, peeking over his shoulder.
ECW stood waiting at the top of the ramp.
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Aaah!!!!!!!!!!!! What's gonna happen? I wish I knew! Unfortunately, the drastic amounts of coffee I'm getting my fuel from are taking my head in all sorts of screwed-up directions and I'm banging out chapters without knowing what they mean or signify. Is Matt a good or bad guy? Don't ask me, 'cause I have no freakin' idea! I'm so buzzed right now that I could probably figure out some crazy way to turn Triple H face! (Okay, so I would never go *that* far, but y'all get the idea.) Anyway, I have some assignments to do, so I hope to write the next chapter tonight (if only so that I myself can know what happens). Stupid multiple personalities! Later y'all.
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A dollar? Lita glared up at Triple H as he waved the bill in her face. True, Orton and Flair were not with him, but he'd brought along an even more intimidating one-man entourage, the recently-returned Batista. He stood behind Lita, blocking her escape. As much as she hated to turn her back on an enemy, she couldn't help focusing her stare-down on Triple H, telling him with her eyes where he could put his dollar.
He advanced on her. Where were the boys? They'd be out here if they could, which was what scared her most. Hopefully they weren't injured. "All I wanted to do was come talk some smack about Molly before our rematch next week," she sighed to herself. "Only this bastard can screw up a plan *that* simple."
"I thought I told you to dance for me," he sneered. "If you don't, then-"
She snatched the dollar and crammed it into his mouth, deciding that shutting him up was definitely worth any violent retaliation. Batista grabbed her from behind, and held her arms back.
"Here it comes," she thought, squeezing her eyes shut.
A loud crack sounded through the arena as the chair slammed into Batista's back. It was then that Lita heard the music, an energizing, thumping drum beat intwined almost randomly with whining electric guitar chords. Batista collapsed behind her.
The chair swung down, hard, on Triple H's skull, and he went down. The chair dropped to the mat, next to its lifeless victim. Matt turned to her.
His eyes were desperate, begging. All the things he should have said before, all his apologies and explanations, were telegraphed to her in that one look. He moved his lips wordlessly, searching for the right thing to say, the thing that could make her forgive him.
So many messages sent, in that short period of time. So many things he didn't have words strong enough for. "I'msorryForgivemeI'msorryIloveyouI'msorryIthoughtitwasbestIlovedyouIwasscaredI'msorryGivemeanotherchanceI'msorry."
He stood there, towering over her but looking small and weak, terrified. He wore his old clothes, had his hair down loose and long, the silly Version 1.0 gimmick abandoned. He stood there, the man she'd loved.
She searched her heart desperately for a thread of anger to hold onto, to shield herself with, and found none. She could only stare back at him, and all her eyes asked was, "Why?"
He stepped towards her, and it was like before, so long ago. Her enemy lay defeated on the ground, having been taken out by a chairshot from Matt. They'd just been friends then; she hadn't asked for his protection, but he couldn't help but give it. And then, at the end, as they were celebrating her victory, he'd leaned toward her...
Matt leaned toward her...
His lips had found hers, quickly, impulsively...
Matt kissed her, a gut reaction, and drew quickly back away...
He'd backed off, apologizing...
"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I just, I just thought, I'm sorry." He slid out of the ring, shaking his head...
He'd ran off from her, cursing his own stupidity, all the way back up the ramp...
She slid out of the ring, stalked towards him...
She'd followed him, then, after recovering from her moment of shock. He'd avoided her, still apologizes...
Lita put her hand on his lips...
Then she'd leaned forward...
Lita pulled him toward her, kissed him like she had that first time, in forgiveness and reconciliation. The past and the present merged in that one moment, as their lips pressed against each other in one flesh.
"I'm sorry," was all he could murmur, over and over. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't know why I did. I was scared."
"Don't," she said against his lips, running her fingers through his long black strands. "It's okay now; we're gonna be okay now."
"I loved you so much, and when you got hurt, when I realized I could lose you, it terrified me. So, I saw an opportunity to be free of my responsibility, to be free of the people I loved, and I jumped."
"Shhh...I know, it's okay. I'm fine now; we're okay."
"I don't want to lose you again."
"You won't." She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his heavy, clean scent, soap and man. She closed her eyes, safe and unworried in this moment.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her as close as the laws of physics would allow, stroked her hair.
Lita kissed his cheek, and opened her eyes, peeking over his shoulder.
ECW stood waiting at the top of the ramp.
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Aaah!!!!!!!!!!!! What's gonna happen? I wish I knew! Unfortunately, the drastic amounts of coffee I'm getting my fuel from are taking my head in all sorts of screwed-up directions and I'm banging out chapters without knowing what they mean or signify. Is Matt a good or bad guy? Don't ask me, 'cause I have no freakin' idea! I'm so buzzed right now that I could probably figure out some crazy way to turn Triple H face! (Okay, so I would never go *that* far, but y'all get the idea.) Anyway, I have some assignments to do, so I hope to write the next chapter tonight (if only so that I myself can know what happens). Stupid multiple personalities! Later y'all.