DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Stephanie McMahon, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Discussion of results from Bad Blood pay-per-view and matches from 6-14 Raw.

Flowers for Jericho

CHAPTER SIX

Whoever coined the phrase 'history repeats itself' definitely knew his shit.

This was the thought running through Chris Jericho's head as he proceeded to stare down Hunter in the middle of the ring. He had just finished warning Eugene about Triple H's tendency to deceive when the subject of their conversation came out to refute the claims. And after Hunter had run his mouth, giving Eugene presents and thoroughly brainwashing the innocent lad, he had turned his attention back to Chris.

The blond Canadian did his best impression of brave as he glared at Hunter and his ever-present posse, while inwardly he fumed about what happened earlier that evening. Two hours earlier, Shelton had just arrived at the arena where he was 'warmly' greeting by Evolution, being thrown into his rental car headfirst until he went unconscious. Although the attack was probably Shelton's punishment for nearly beating Randy Orton last night at Bad Blood, Jericho supposed that Triple H didn't mind smacking around the kid that had placed two losses on his record.

When a parking lot attendant found Shelton's body, he called for an ambulance (which would come in handy; Shelton and Shawn Michaels became ambulance buddies after Kane's beat down of the Heart Break Kid). The workers told Stephanie; Stephanie sought out and told Jericho.

And now, Chris fought the urge to tell off Hunter. Flip him the bird. Punch him in his gigantic schnoz. Anything. He wanted a piece of the cocky bastard, but he couldn't do a damn thing with his still sore ribs and the Triple H fan club ready to pounce. So Chris settled for issuing a rather unsatisfying verbal warning to Triple H. They exchanged words and a few more fist-clenching moments before both parties retreated backstage.

Once Chris was past the curtain, his cool image shattered to reveal the pure hatred and disgust that swirled within him. If Trish Stratus had been a thorn in his side, Hunter Hearst Helmsley was a javelin.

Of course, thorns and javelins in his side were nothing compared to the McMahon on his back.

"Jericho, stop!" Stephanie called as she ran to catch up to him. He had walked right by her on his way to his locker room, without a glance in her direction.

He sighed, hoping she'd disappear. If his ignorance of her presence hadn't been accidental, it would definitely have been intentional. "I have a match to get ready for," he tossed over his shoulder. Actually, he was kind of surprised she was chasing after him, after the incident that occurred between them last week.

"Not for another," she glanced at her watch quickly, "Thirty-three minutes!"

"That's thirty-three minutes that I don't have for you. Go find someone else to bother."

Chris entered his locker room, slamming the door in her face. He stepped back far enough in time to avoid the same door flying back towards him.

For her part, Stephanie had tried to be reasonable with Chris's avoidance. After all, she had dealt with her ex-husband for two years; she knew the emotions that Hunter could stir up. But her patience was thin, and it snapped when Jericho's door grazed her nose. NOBODY messed with her nose; it was her sweet sixteen present from her father (to fix her "deviated septum", a common epidemic among the Greenwich pre-teens). "You ungrateful asshole!" she shouted, stomping into his room and getting right into his face. "Blowing me off like that!"

Chris collapsed into a folding chair, his 'Hunter Anger' deflating into 'Stephanie Frustration'. It's 2001 all over again. "You're a bit confused, Steph. See, YOU'RE the one that blows people off." He took a second to look her over, thoughtfully scratching at his chin. "I would have to assume that all services are at a discount these days; after all, you are JUST a technician."

"Back. Stage. Coordinator," she enunciated. He was egging her on, and as usual, she fell into the trap. "Oh gosh, you called me a slut! My ego is shattered," she said bitingly, rolling her eyes. She was rather sick of hearing him call her a slut; she hadn't had 'relations' with anyone in over two years. "Can't you think of anything original? Or has the 'King of the World' lost his touch?"

The blond shrugged. "If it ain't broke…" Stephanie grunted, fixing a glare on him, but did not storm out like he hoped. "Don't you have work to do?" he asked, waving a hand in dismissal.

Steph made no move to leave. "Don't you want to know who sent you those?" she retorted, pointing towards a bench by the bathroom.

Chris's eyes followed her finger until they rested on a bouquet of tulips. "Shit," he mumbled, his hands automatically clenching into fists. He was unsure if the gift had arrived during his interview with Eugene or if it had been there longer, which was rather embarrassing to admit.

Stephanie did have a knack for being consistently observant. "You don't know when you got those, do you?" she snickered, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "And I thought you just HAD to solve this mystery. Where are your priorities, Jericho?"

Aside from the shudder her annoying tone sent down his spine, Stephanie's words sparked something in Jericho's mind. His eyes immediately snapped to hers. "You know something," he stated, trying not to sound too eager.

Stephanie mock-yawned, and then examined her nails. "I know a lot of things, Jericho," she stated dryly. "Speaking of things, isn't your match coming up? I'd better just run along." And with those words, she sent him a sly smile and turned towards the door.

Biting back a snide comment, Chris leapt from his seat and caught her by the arm. He knew the game she was playing; it was one of her favorites during their partnership. She would find out something valuable, he would piss her off, and then she'd make him suffer before disclosing the desired information. Once again, he was dimly reminded of his earlier observation about history repeating itself as he turned Stephanie to face him. "Stephanie, darling, I still have plenty of time before my match…" he trailed off, disguising his disgust with a grin. "Please, sit and relax." Chunks were rising in his throat from all this butt kissing.

Chris wasn't the only one getting ill; but Stephanie would rather vomit on his shoes than stop the show that he started. She silently allowed him to seat her in his vacated chair, and then barely held back a giggle when he squatted down in front of her like a puppy dog. "My my my, how it all changes when you want something from me," she teased.

They both knew that he would take that statement the wrong way, but they also knew that he couldn't speak any of the half-million retorts he dreamed up. Biting his tongue, Chris offered a larger, faker smile. "Anything for a beautiful princess like yourself."

Stephanie's nose scrunched up. "That was terrible. You'll have to do better than that; and I suggest you stay away from the cheese."

His patience, already worn thin by her ex-husband, begged to snap. He could almost feel the smooth skin of her throat as he strangled the breath out of her. But instead, he channeled it into his demented smile and fake flattery. Unfortunately, he knew what it would take to end this exhibition of power. With a guttural sigh, he lowered himself to a sitting position in front of her, taking her feet into his lap. Rolling up the cuff of her jeans, he removed the low heels she wore and began to rub her feet.

Chris's actions were dead-on; Stephanie's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she nearly slipped off the chair. She never thought he'd stoop to rubbing her feet again, especially with her lower status within the company. But he had been a good pupil during their partnership, and she supposed she didn't give him enough credit. "That is heavenly," she moaned, pushing her feet into his fingers. Another minute and she'd tell him her PIN number for her bank account; much less tell him what he wanted to know.

He grunted in response, concentrating on the task at hand. He knew that, God willing, he only needed to rub for about another minute before he could probe for information. Sadly, though, with many seconds to spare, he found himself… somewhat enjoying the foot massage he administered. Chris hadn't touched a female in ages, much less heard one moan passionately (to be more accurate, Stephanie was now cooing, a common response from a modern woman who was forced to wear heels everyday). And, despite her obvious character flaws, Stephanie was, at the very core, an attractive woman with pedicured toenails. After admiring her admittedly cute toes, he mentally slapped himself from his foolish thoughts. "So what did your spies see?" he asked quietly, making sure to press his fingers between her toes.

Stephanie was in her own little world, where only words and the lovely feeling of rubbed feet exist. "Mmmmm… one guy saw Stacy Keibler going into your locker room right as your interview with Eugene began. Oooohhhh… do the toe thing again, please…" she begged.

Chris's heart leapt into his throat as he idly fulfilled her request. Stacy, his mind repeated. He had

He had talked with her a few weeks back, and she seemed totally clueless about the flowers he had been receiving. Then again, she could have been pretending to be clueless. That thought alone boggled him; if it were true, it was a perfect act. He always considered her to be an airhead. "She had the tulips then?" he pressed. He needed verification.

To his surprise, the woman seated before him shook her head. "Nuh-uhhhhhh… she wasn't holding them. She stole your sexy beast t-shirt though. My spy … mmmm… left his post to tell me after that, so I don't have … ahhhhh … any more details." Knowing that this bit of information would be particularly disappointing, Stephanie reluctantly pulled her feet away from his busy hands and left her foot happy paradise. Immediately noticing the excitement fading from his light blue eyes, her heart surprisingly clenched in response and she sprang into action. "Hey, it's a lead. Maybe she knows who the admirer is and wanted to make sure nobody was in here before…"

"Before the admirer dropped off the tulips," Chris finished for her, his mind whirling into action. Any disappointment he felt was cast aside by growing excitement; it was, as Stephanie said, his first real lead. "So Stacy's in on it, huh? Well this should be a piece of cake," he said, a real grin now gracing his face.

"And why would that be?"

Stephanie had walked into yet another booby trap set by the king of egomaniacs himself. "Because no one has eeeeeeeeever resisted my charms," he replied, giving her a smirk.

She raised an eyebrow in his direction. "I always have."

Jericho did a double take, and found her to be absolutely serious. Did she… is she implying that she WANTED to be seduced by me? Discarding that stupid thought, he longed to be rid of the unsettling feeling that resided in his stomach. And there was only one way he knew how to do that. "You think I would have wasted my charms on you, devil woman?" He stood up, offering her a hand up from her chair. "I would never waste perfectly good lines on a cold-hearted slut such as you."

Stephanie allowed him to help her up, toeing her shoes back on. She then slapped the shit out of him, causing his head to whip to the side. Truth be told, he wasn't surprised by her reaction.

He wasn't shocked to see the familiar scowl that graced her features when he straightened up to face her.

He was slightly disturbed by the slight quivering of her chin.

And he was horrified to see the tears swimming in her eyes.

Stephanie didn't have much time before the awkward situation would escalate into something dreadfully worse. "You have crossed the line, Chris Jericho," she hissed, her voice breaking on his name. And with the realization that she could no longer make out his confused blue eyes through her blurry vision, she turned around and left his dressing room. And just like last week, Chris let her go.

He stood there, staring at his door like a moron as his thoughts collided into one another.

I need to get ready for my match.
I can't believe she was going to cry!
Stacy might know who the admirer is!
Since when has there been a line?
Why did she steal my shirt?
I really need to get ready for my match.
She's never cried before…
What does the card say?

The last thought was the easiest to deal with. Pushing all his other thoughts aside, Chris walked over to the mix of tulips. Three were solid white, the rest were striped with burgundy. Running a suddenly shaky hand through his hair, he plucked the card from the six buds and opened it.

No flower doodles. No flowery words. Just nine simple words. 'Congratulations on your victory – I had faith in you.'

Before he could even try to decode this message, there came a pounding at his locker room door. "Our match is in ten. You wanna get your ass out here so we can talk strategy?" Edge's voice floated through the steel.

Chris groaned, setting the card back in the bouquet. Resisting the urge to tell his tag partner to get bent, he knew that he'd be much better off pursuing the card later, with Shelton around to add his input. The thought of his badly beaten friend rekindled his interest in kicking Evolution's collective ass, which renewed his interest in the upcoming match. With one last glance at his mysterious flowers, Chris walked to his door and exited his locker room.

Once in the hallway, both Edge and the ever-quiet Chris Benoit fixed him with the evil eye. "Nice of you to find time for us," Edge bit out.

With a shrug, Jericho allowed his cocky façade to slip back into place. "Boys, boys," he chided, moving between them and slinging his arms around their necks, "The King of the World always has time for his worthy friends."

Such truer words had never been spoken.

END CHAPTER SIX

Author's notes: I know, I know, Shelton had a match on Sunday Night Heat, but my Shelton muse demanded another reason. Had it not been for my CJ muse returning at the last minute, I might have spent six pages lamenting my Benji's absence from Raw :)

I like this chapter; I feel as if I've fallen back into my groove. Going to Bad Blood last Sunday was the best therapy for an over-stressed girl such as me. Since I could sit here and type every last detail of the evening, I have settled on top 5 best moments from the pay-per-view:

5. Realizing that my seats were amazing (I was in the fifth row of the camera-side lower ring of seats, directly next to said cameras).
4. Batista flexing, repeatedly, in my direction (dear God, is that man ripped).
3. Starting a 'Shelton' cheer for my new love Benji ;)
2. My brother telling me I was acting like Eugene when Chris Jericho came out (I was standing in the aisle, holding up a sign that said 'I HEART JERICHO', jumping up and down and screaming like a proper fan girl).
1. Touching Shane McMahon. Yes, you read that right; if you read online reports you know that Shane-O was there. He walked out at the beginning of the Eugene match, and sat beside the camera in the section beside mine. Of course, when I realized who it was, I tried to tackle him; damn security lady held me back but I did manage to touch his shoulder and tell him that I loved him (it was more of a 'in the moment' love, to be honest). I swear he smiled at me when I said this (could have been delusional, but come on, it was at least amusing to him, watching me fight the fat bitch of a security lady). When I sat back down, I took a million pictures of his profile. I kept yelling over to him that he should come back and take out HHH. Mainly, I just STARED at him. After all, it was Shane McMahon, can you blame me? :)

Oookay, long author's notes. Sorry about that. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please review and let me know what you think. Every review that I get, good or bad, is an honor, and I take them all to heart. Take care!