Author's Note: I'm so, so, so, so, so sorry that it's been so long since an update! I hope you guys like this chapter, and I'm sorry if it's a little shorter than usual! Please review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story idea...

Distribution: None, at the moment. Want it on your site? Take it, just gimme a link and notice!

My Kind of Fairy Tale

Chapter 2

"What do you want?" Stacy's voice asked defensively as she opened the door just a crack. Edge frowned, seeing her bloodshot, puffy eyes. He took the duffel bag off of his shoulder and offered it to her.

"You forgot this at the arena," he told her.

She looked from the bag to his eyes, obviously debating any alternate motives. Stacy was slightly ashamed, knowing that her tone hadn't been welcoming. Still, she didn't open her mouth to apologize. The blonde opened the door a little more, taking the bag away from him and setting it inside of her room. As she did so, Edge got a good look at her. She was already in her pajamas for the night—a simple baggy shirt and shorts. He noticed the ice pack around her ankle, held by a rubber band. Edge sighed heavily, debating what to say. She looked so fragile, so broken... The urge to reach out and hold her in his arms-to reassure her that everything was okay-was overwhelming. He pushed the feeling away as she spoke.

"Thank you," Stacy murmured, her voice hoarse.

"Welcome," he replied, and hesitated. It was clear that she wanted him to go, but all he wanted to do was stay. An awkward silence settled over them. "Listen about what you said to me at the arena," he started.

"Forget it," Stacy interrupted sharply. "Just forget I said anything about it. Now, I have to get some sleep," she started to close the door, but instinctively Edge reached out and put his hand against it, stopping her.

"You're not just eye candy, Stacy," he told her firmly. It was written over her eyes, her face... The idea had been implanted into her head, and she believed it now.

"Yeah, right, Edge," she scoffed, and then sighed. "Look, Edge. Thank you for giving me my bag. It was nice of you. I appreciate the comment, but don't lie to me. Everyone knows it and everyone believes it, okay? I know I got hired on my looks, and that's the only reason why I've still got my spot. Tonight was another night that another Diva beat me, without lifting a finger, if you still think I'm not here on looks," she looked at him in the eye. "Goodnight, Edge," she said firmly, and moved to close the door once more.

"Stacy!" Edge protested, and she stopped.

"What?"

"You aren't here for just your looks, damn it. I've seen you backstage; you're the life the party. You're the one Diva that brings the fun aspect into wrestling."

"By being a blonde bimbo," she shot back.

"No," he replied sharply. His tone softened as he continued. "I saw your match. You knew their wrestling ability was greater than yours, but you still went to that ring and fought. That says a lot, Stacy."

"All it says is that I can't wrestle worth a thing."

"It says that you're brave," he corrected. He reached out, cupping her cheek with a hand. "Stop being so hard on yourself, Stacy," he told her.

She looked toward the side, and Edge's hand fell from her face. "Edge, we aren't even friends. Why are you going out of your way to tell me this?"

"I want to help you, Stacy."

"Why?"

"Because from what I've seen and heard of you, you're a sweet and nice person, and I know you don't deserve the shit Bischoff has been handing you," Edge said firmly, his eyes never straying from hers.

Stacy looked down as Edge's words began to sink in. Did he really want to help her? 'Yeah, right,' she thought to herself. 'He wants what every guy who comes near me wants: to get into my pants. Who would honestly want to help me? I'm useless, and I can't give them anything in return except for the one thing I won't give.' "What do you want, Edge?" she asked tiredly.

"What do you mean?" Edge replied, genuinely confused.

"You obviously want something, or you wouldn't be offering help," Stacy said dryly.

Edge ran his tongue over his lips, wording his answer. "Yeah, I want something. I want to see you happy, and I want to see you get back at Eric Bischoff," he told her.

Stacy blinked, surprised by his answer. "I think I'm pretty far beyond any help, Edge," she finally whispered.

"I can get you ready for that match."

Stacy bit down on her lip, and then shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry Edge," she told him, for what seemed like the millionth time. "Your offer's generous, but I have to say no." With that, she shut the door firmly. Edge ran a hand through his hair as he heard the lock slip into place.

He sighed heavily, turning down the hallway and making his way to his hotel room. 'You win some, you lose some,' he told himself. The Canadian pulled out his keycard as he reached his room. 'Just let it go.'

His heart, however, was severely detached from his mind by that point.

There would be no letting go.