A/N: Tell me you didn't see the ending of this chapter coming…. LOL, keep the reviews coming guys!
PART 15
Trish lifted her head from her hands, where it had been resting as she sat in the waiting room of a local hospital. She glanced down at her watch, sighing as she noted that it had been nearly four hours since Stacy had been admitted, and just about two hours since they'd heard anything regarding her condition. Because none of them were related to her, the doctors released only a bare minimum of information, and they flat out refused to let any of them see her. Cocking her head to the side, Trish caught a glimpse of Christian, who appeared to have fallen asleep in the chair next to her. She couldn't blame him... if she was so overly worried about Stacy's condition, she supposed she'd have conked out by now as well. Her eyes aimlessly traveled around the room, incidentally settling on Chris. The blonde man was standing across the room, his back to her as he stared out the window.
Trish glanced over at Christian one more time, patting him gently on the knee before pushing herself up from the chair. She made her way across the room, her joints aching a bit from sitting that uncomfortable chair for so long. She approached Chris very slowly, not wanting to startle him, though he looked to be so engulfed in his own thoughts that Trish didn't think it was possible to scare him. She stood by his side, gazing up and studying his face. Her chocolate eyes squinted as she attempted to read his expression, unable to draw any emotion from him whatsoever. She reached out slowly, very tentatively placing her hand on his forearm. Without budging an inch, Chris took a deep breath, his exhale shaky.
"I'm scared, Trish," he spoke suddenly, catching her a bit off guard. Trish nodded understandingly.
"I know you are, Chris," she replied softly. "I am too. So is Christian, and Rob sounded pretty damn scared when I talked to him on the phone earlier. We're *all* scared, Chris, but she'll be okay. She may be tiny, but she's tough. She'll pull through."
Chris snorted, earning a frown from Trish. Her reassurance was obviously not enough to make him feel any better. Unsure of what to say, Trish drew her hand away, falling into silence. They remained that way for a good few minutes, until Chris decided to speak again.
"I should have seen this coming..." he said, wanting to kick himself. "I should have known Test would snap after what happened at Unforgiven. If I hadn't put Stacy up to attacking him, she'd be..."
"Chris Jericho, don't you dare blame yourself for this!" Trish cried, shaking her head furiously. "Stacy knew what she was risking. The *only* person at fault here is that rotten piece of shit, Test."
Chris clenched his fists tightly at the mention of Stacy's attacker, slamming his right hand against the window sill. He glanced down at his now stinging hand, a somewhat sadistic gleam shimmering in his blue eyes as he imagined what that same fist was going to do to Test's smug face next time he laid eyes on that miserable excuse for a man. Words couldn't describe the pleasure Jericho would take in beatings him senseless, making him pay for his repulsive actions, for hurting Stacy...
Stacy.
The mere thought of her name caused the rage coursing through Jericho's body to drain away. His heart wrenched at the thought of her alone in a hospital bed, strange people poking at her and tending to her aching body. *He* wanted to be with her, to hold her and to let her know that things would be alright. Most importantly, he wanted to let her know how he felt about her... his *true* feelings. He couldn't accept being simply friends any longer, not after seeing how easily she could be snatched away. As he stood at the window, staring out into the cold, dark night, a stark realization hit him, nailing him like a ton of bricks. He turned to Trish - whose gaze was still locked on him - shocking her with the single tear rolling down his cheek.
"My God," he whispered, his eyes widening at his own revelation. "I'm in love with her."
* * * *
Another hour passed, and the three Canadians had still received no word on Stacy. Christian, who had woken up about a half an hour earlier, could see the toll it was taking on his best friend, who had begun to pace back and forth wildly in the waiting room. He'd considered getting up and trying to calm him down, but he knew that at this point, any attempts to do so would be useless. He turned his head to the side, glancing down at Trish, who had since rejoined him.
"He's going mad," Christian noted, concern and worry filling his eyes.
Trish bit her lip, examining Jericho for what had to be the hundredth time since their arrival. He was a wreck... his hair was all over the place from the yanks of frustration, the bags under his eyes were growing dark, and it was obvious that more than a few tears had been shed. Unable to stand seeing him like this any longer, Trish decided to take action.
"That's it," she said, standing up. "I'm going to the front desk. We've been here for five hours... they need to let us see her."
Christian almost smiled at the fierce determination in the tiny blonde's voice, nodding as he watched her hurry off to the main lobby. Trish exhaled loudly as she made her way out of the waiting room, double doors swinging shut behind her. She really hoped whomever was working there wouldn't give her any trouble. She was irritated enough as it was... the last thing she needed was a troublesome employee to deal with. Taking a deep, calming breath, Trish stepped into the main office, her breathing stopping suddenly. She saw him standing at the front desk, and her stomach dropped. Sure, his back was facing her, but what with the black pumps, dark jean shorts, blue jersey, and blue baseball cap - backwards, of course - she knew...
John Cena was in the hospital.
Narrowing her eyes at him, Trish marched up to the young superstar, grabbing him by the shoulder.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" she demanded, startling him. He glared down at her, his stare not pleased in the least.
"I could ask you the same question," he muttered, preparing to turn his back to her.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she questioned, her words catching him before he could turn away. "Stacy's my best friend... of course I'd be here to..."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure if you'd made a habit out of leaving people behind," he quipped, not bothering to disguise the hurt in his eyes.
Trish's gaze softened immediately and she took a few steps back. John's comment had stung, even though the tiny diva knew she deserved it. Her head lowered in shame, and she fell into silence, unable to come up with a response. John allowed his gaze to travel down to her, the image of her standing before him sending vivid images of their encounter through his mind. It amazed him how simply seeing her before him reminded him of her touch, the feel of her skin under his, the sound of her voice as she asked him for more...
John shook his head, cursing himself for having such thoughts in such a dire situation. He frowned as he glanced behind Trish to see Jericho and Christian... neither man looking all too pleased to see him.
"Yo, before you jump on me, let me explain..." he began, pausing when Jericho put a hand in his face.
"Look, Jerky. I'm really not in the mood to play games. If you want to bicker with Trish, I'm afraid you'll have to do it some other..."
"Do you want to see Stacy?!" John cut him off. Chris's ears perked up, and he eyed Cena curiously.
"Of course I do, jackass, but they're only accepting visitors with family," he replied bitterly, being sure his dry comment was loud enough for those at desk to hear.
John stared at Chris intensely for a moment, simply nodding at him.
"No shit," he replied.
He turned away, turning his back to them as he approached the desk. He tapped his hands on the wooden frame, waiting for the young woman behind to come up to him. When she addressed him, he spoke, shocking the others with what he had to say.
"Excuse me, could you tell me what room Stacy Keibler's in? I'm John..... her brother."