A/N: Not to sound repetitive, but a huge thanks for all the reviews, especially the in depth ones… I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. You guys are the best!
PART 14
Trish sighed tiredly as she made her way to Rob Van Dam's locker room. She had just finished her conversation with Lita, and after discussing some things over with the redhead, she had decided that she really needed to have a talk with him. She felt that he deserved to know what happened the previous night between her and John Cena, especially considering the fact that he had set them up in the first place. She had to ensure that he heard the story from her, so that no one else would have the chance to twist it around before she got to him.
The more she thought about it though, the more she began to dread telling Rob the story. How would he react when she told him she walked out on John? Hell, how was he going to react when she told him she slept with John? There wasn't a doubt in Trish's mind that he was going to flip, and she didn't have the energy to deal with it.
Trish froze, for the moment seriously considering turning around and marching directly back to the women's locker room. She stood still, literally swinging her head back and forth as her mind boggled her options. As she was contemplating her decision, the blonde woman heard a small sound. It was very quiet, yet distinct at the same time. Her brow raising curiously, Trish silenced herself, hoping to be able to pick up the sound a little better. She heard it again... a tiny, almost inaudible moaning sound. Trish's ears perked up, and she followed the noise as best she could. She turned a corner, and nearly tripped over the source of the sound. She glanced down, and gasped, her eyes widening in terror.
"Stacy!" she cried, dropping to her knees next to her fallen friend.
A pained groan escaped the leggy blonde's lips as she looked up to see Trish hovering over her. If she wasn't in such tremendous pain, she would have thanked the Canadian diva for happening to find her. Trish placed a hand on Stacy's shoulder, noticing how horribly it was shaking as she did so. Stacy looked awful. She was lying on the ground, crunched into a fetal position. Blood was dripping from a gash on the side of her head, and Trish could see the beginnings of dark bruises forming all over her tiny body.
"Stacy, what happened to you?!" Trish asked, her tone horrified and her skin going pale.
Stacy opened her mouth to speak, but instead of words coming out, all she managed to choke out was a tiny mumble, and a gasp for air. Trish looped an arm around her back, gingerly pulling her into a sitting position and willing her to speak again.
"Stacy, come on... who did this to you?"
The tiny blonde woman grabbed a hold of Trish's arm, leaning back against the wall and she grimaced in pain. She looked over at her, taking a few short, choppy breaths before once again attempting to reply.
"...A-Andrew..."
Almost immediately after the word left Stacy's lips, she dropped to the floor again, the severe pain caused by the beating she had just received causing everything to spin and her world to go black. Trish gasped, grasping Stacy by the shoulders and shaking her lightly, hoping to jolt her back to consciousness. It was no use... she was out, and it appeared as though she was going to stay that way. Jumping up off the floor, Trish raked a hand through her hair, her eyes darting down the hall in search of anyone who would be ready and willing to help. She had to get a hold of someone, but she couldn't just leave Stacy behind.
Just then, she heard the sounds of two familiar voices, and her heart nearly stopped. Coming from down the hall was the distinct, arrogant laughter of none other than Test and Scott Steiner. Those two pricks were probably on their way to finish the job... she had to get Stacy out of there, and quick. Thinking as quickly as her brain would allow her to, Trish bent down and picked Stacy up, doing her best to get her to stand. Once she got the blonde woman to her feet - which was not an easy task - she wrapped her arm around her, literally dragging her down the hall in a frantic attempt to get away from the approaching men. She kicked her pace up a notch when she heard the aggravated voice of Test, swearing to Steiner that he had left Stacy there. Her eyes scanned the names on locker room doors as she ran down the halls, looking for someone, anyone she felt trustworthy enough to let her in. Finally, she found just what she was looking for...
* * * *
Christian wrapped a towel around his waist as he emerged from the shower, stepping out into the locker room he was sharing with Jericho and heading over to his bag. He dug around for his tights and yanked them out of the bag, heading back into the bathroom. He quickly got changed and headed back out to ready himself for his match that night. When he reentered the locker room, he noted that Jericho had since woken up from the nap he was taking, the long haired man now sitting up on the leather couch across the room.
"I told you to wake me up twenty minutes ago, jackass," Chris muttered, glancing down at his watch. Now he'd have to rush if he wanted to be ready by show time.
"You just looked so pretty all curled up in a ball there, I didn't want to wake you," Christian offered with a grin and a shrug.
Rolling his eyes, Chris stood, stretching and yawning loudly. He sauntered over to his bag, searching through it and beginning to pull out all of his ring gear. He sighed as another yawn escaped his lips. Then, there was a knock at the door, and his head shot up. He glanced over at Christian, making a gesture with his head for the taller man to answer it. Sending his best friend a cheeky grin, Christian shook his head. When another loud knock sounded through the room, Chris sighed, hopping up and heading over the door, making sure to look as annoyed as possible. When he pulled the door open, he gasped, as two blonde women literally fell through the door.
"Chris!" Trish Stratus cried, glancing up at him with terror in her eyes. "You've got to... help her..."
Chris eyes widened in horror as Stacy fell to the floor, a bloody, battered mess.