Title: Endless Love
Author: Crimson Coin Crimson_Coin@yahoo.com
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points.
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.
Archiving: Ask me first.
+++
April 26, 2004
Chris Jericho smiled to himself, strutting backstage and into his locker room. Oh yeah, he was proud. Real proud. He almost got his hands on the bitch tonight. Almost.
He was so close. Just so close. He had his hands on her legs, on her calves as he gripped them and then he flipped her onto her back - a position she was most likely used to, the man spreading her legs and standing between them. Oh yeah, she was real used to that.
Chris remembered smiling out there, the look of her in such a predicament. Ooo, had he loved the fear in her eyes. He couldn't resist the thought of turning her over and applying his submission move. And he even leaned back. Yeah, he wanted to hurt her.
But that stupid Christian and Tyson ... they got in the way. Pulling Trish out of the ring, out of his hold. Stupid bastards, ruining his fun.
Chris reached into his duffel bag, pulling out his cell phone. Rolling his eyes, he deleted the message without even listening. "Fucking women," he swore. So he met this girl once in the bar and she just never left him alone. Alexis ... that was her name. He thought. He really wasn't sure anymore. "None of them are fucking worth it."
"I wouldn't say that."
Chris jumped, turning towards the voice. His eyes widened, his guard heightened at the man in his locker room. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
"It's my locker room too."
"No, it's not."
"Well, I sorta need to hide right now while I recoup."
Chris squinted his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned against the lockers. "You recouped yet? I didn't really want company."
Matt Hardy smiled, holding the icepack firmly to his knee. "Well, tough shit. Cuz you're getting the company."
Chris didn't answer for a good long while, simply eyeing the other man, suspiciously. "She's a good friend of mine, you know."
Matt nodded.
Chris nodded too, looking up to an abandoned corner of the room for a long few more moments. "We've moved past everything from those years ago. She's forgiven me. And now, she's the only true friend I have left. She's the only friend left that doesn't judge me."
Matt cocked his head, his eyes focused, his listening intent.
Chris shook his head, sighing. "Every other friend I still have. Scott, Edge, Benoit. They judge me. But not Lita. She doesn't judge me."
"She never was one to judge." Matt said softly. "That was something different about her."
"I'm not so sure about that."
Matt shook his head. "No. Lita was never one to judge. Sometimes she'd get hunches. But she would always give the person the benefit of the doubt. Even you."
Chris cocked his head. "What do you mean? Like now."
"No, not now." Matt answered softly. "Those years ago. Jeff and I were wary of you, defending us and her especially. And I was pissed as hell, thinking you were trying to take her away from me, from us ... from Team Xtreme."
Chris didn't answer.
"But Lita trusted you." Matt said, then chuckled lightly. "I don't know why, but she trusted you. And Jeff kinda did too. But only after she convinced him. See, Jeff is much more easily swayed then me."
"I slept with her."
"What?"
Chris sighed, shaking his head and looking away from Matt. "Lita. I slept with her." He waited then, waited for the anger, the jealousy, the repercussions of his actions. But it never came.
"I don't care."
"What?"
Matt shrugged. "I have no business caring. She wasn't mine. She never was. Maybe that was my problem. I tried to make her mine and Lita ... she ... she's not the type to be caged like that."
Chris nodded.
"I'm not angry at you ... or her for what you two did." Matt continued. "Actually, I kinda understand. And I'm glad you were there for her ... and she for you."
"I'm sorry about breaking your fingers."
Matt smiled. "It wasn't you, it was Christian. Plus, he was acting on her account and I can't blame him either. I deserved it."
Chris shook his head. "Why'd you do it, Matt? I mean ... a guy couldn't ask for a better girl than Lita."
The Hardy laughed at himself, raking the hair from his eyes. "I know that now. I don't know what I was thinking then. I don't deserve her, Chris. I know that. And I was too proud after I was such an asshole to her and I just ... I couldn't go back. I ... I didn't deserve to throw myself at feet and beg her to take me back."
"You still love her, don't you?"
"Of course, I do." Matt answered with a soft, sad smile. "How could I not? We were together for four years. You don't just stop loving someone overnight, no matter how long you were together."
"You can." Chris answered.
But Matt shook his head. "No. You can't. You can be with someone for a month and be madly in love ... you can't just turn that off if things go sour. You can't forget. That's the way I see it, at least."
Chris remained calm, resisting the urge to just rip off the Hardy's lips for making such a comment. It wasn't true. He didn't love Trish. She was a whore and a bitch and ... he ... he couldn't love her. He never would. He never did.
Matt sighed, forcing himself to his feet with a wince. "And I know I can never make it up to her. But ... I love her. And when a man loves a woman ... he does anything to make sure she never gets hurt."
Chris's eyes narrowed as the Hardy walked from the room and he snarled with a gruff, his teeth clenched at that last statement. Who the hell did Matt Hardy think he was, making a statement so nonchalant like that?
Growling his anger, Chris barged out of his locker room, glancing one way than the next down the hall. Quickly choosing a direction, he stormed off in that direction. Intent on what, he didn't know. But he just walked. His mind racing, his heart pounding, his breath heavy ... what the hell was coming over him?
His eyes widened, a slyly slick smile spreading onto his face and he put his hands on his hips. "Well, if it isn't the resident whore."
Trish Stratus spun quickly, her face changing from surprised and frightened to blazing and angered in a matter of moments. "Just get the fuck out of here."
Chris laughed, heartily, placing a hand on his chest. "Oh ho ho ho, Oh god. That's rich." He cupped his ear with his hand, leaning towards her. "What is it you'd like me to fuck? I'm sorry, speak up. Or is there something in your mouth. Cylindrical and salty maybe?"
Disgusted, furious, Trish's eyes blazed, her teeth clenched and her eyes narrowed. "You fucking bastard. You sick fucking bastard. Do you have nothing better to do then stand there and torture me."
Jericho shrugged, that smile never leaving his face. "Hey, sweetheart. If that's what you're into ... then I'm game for anything. But I warn you ... I only got a twenty on me, I'm not that tempted to break a fifty on your services."
"What do you want, Jericho?" She snarled, her muscles tense and eyes piercing. "What do you want from me?"
"Oh, I'm just havin a little fun." He drawled, taking a few steps closer to her.
Trish held her ground, her head held high. "Well, you've had your fun. Now leave me alone."
"Aw, Baby." He cooed, sarcastically, stepping close to her. "I figured the benefits would be much better if you had fun with a man than all by your lonesome. At least you could get a steady paycheck that way."
Trish's eyes fired at his cocky smirk and she broadened her shoulders, quickly recoiling her hand.
Chris's head whipped back violently at her vicious slap.
"You fucking asshole." She sneered, growled at him.
His eyes on fire, Chris glared at her. Not hesitating a second, he roughly gripped her arms, shoving, and pinning her viciously against the wall. Trish squeaked at his fierceness, but she stayed unwavering, unafraid of the violent serge in him.
"Go ahead." She coaxed. "Hit me. You fucking bastard. Just do it, and get it outta your system. I don't know how I ever could have felt something for you."
"You never did." He snarled, his eyes narrowed as they stood nose to nose. His breath panting, his heart racing, his body shook with intensity and he tightened his grip on her. He knew when she squirmed in discomfort; his hold was too tight. ... Good.
"Didn't I?" Was her only response.
His eyes intense, he stared into her deep brown eyes. His eyes trailed over her brow, her cheeks and neck then lips ... good God, those lips. He closed his eyes. Not again. No ... not again. Quickly, he cleared his mind of those lustful thoughts. ... Or at least, tried to.
"Get the fuck away from her!"
Before Jericho could even react, a fist impacted his jaw and he stumbled away from Trish landing hard on the floor, right on his tail bone. He hissed, winced as the sharp pain stabbed up his spine, but he shook that off, eyeing his attacker.
Tyson Tomko growled, his muscles tensed as he glared at the man who was attacking the woman he swore to protect.
Gathering his strength, Jericho pushed up onto his feet, ready to fight. Tomko charged.
"No, Tyson." Trish broke in, placing herself in front of her protector, her hands on his pecks as she blocked the big man. "Tyson, don't. Don't, I'm ok. I swear."
Tyson narrowed his eyes, his fists clenching as he cracked his neck. "I see his hand prints on your arm." He said, deeply, intensely.
"That's not from him." Trish said, quickly. "It's not. I swear."
"Then who?" Tyson asked, sternly. "Who put that mark on your arm?"
"It's nothing." Trish pleaded. "Please, please just forget about it. Don't worry. I'm ok. Just ... let's just leave."
Tyson took a moment, eyeing her then sending a warning glare in Jericho's direction. "I'll escort you back to the locker room."
Trish glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes softening a moment at the sight of a little trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. But she quickly turned her back, grabbing Tyson's large hand as they walked down the hall.
Jericho brought his fingers to his mouth, wiping away the little trickle as his eyes locked on her retreating form. "Bitch." He muttered to himself. "That filthy bitch."
His glare narrowed as he watched her tiny hand on the big man's arm. That tiny hand and her delicate almost affectionate touch. That whore. That tramp. She was probably screwing Tomko too. That whore. That gorgeous two timing whore.
Chris viciously shook his head. No! No, what was he thinking? Gorgeous? She ... Trish was a tramp. A tramp and he knew it. Everyone knew it. Well, assumed ... no. Everyone knew it. Trish Stratus was a tramp.
"Chris?"
He slowly turned his angered eyes towards the voice.
Stacy Keibler shied further into herself, ducking her head and recoiling inward, afraid of him. "Chris, I ... I've been looking for you."
"Well, you found me." He sadistically snapped. "So what do you want?"
Stacy shuddered, licking her lips as she glanced longingly around the hall, wishing that she wasn't alone with him. "I ... I'm sorry, Chris. I ... I just wanted ... wanted to see if you were ok."
"Do I look ok to you?" His eye actually twitched as he pointed to himself. "Do I ... look ok ... to you?"
"I ... I ... I ..."
"No, seriously, Stacy." Chris laughed, sarcastically. "I mean really. Take a good fucking look at me. Do I look ... ok?"
Stacy wrapped her arms around her waist, ducking her head.
"Do I?!" He yelled, stepping closer to her, nose to nose. "DO I!" he finally screamed in her face.
"Hey!"
Chris jostled as he was tossed back.
Edge quickly placed himself in front of Stacy, keeping her to his back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Stacy only shuddered, her hands on the small of her protector's back. She was frightened. More frightened then with Test or Steiner.
Chris glared, intense and almost insane with the glint in his eye.
Edge pointed down the hall. "Just get the fuck outta here, ok? Get yourself fucking together."
Chris didn't move but kept his eyes locked on the other man.
Edge stood tall, refusing to back down. As the seconds ticked past, he felt Stacy clutch at the back of his shirt, her tiny fingers fisting the fabric and the waist of his pants. She was frightened, shaking. He didn't like that.
Blinking slowly, Chris turned his back, walking away.
Edge released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Shaking his head, he turned towards the woman at his back. "Oh, Sweetie." He cooed at the sight of her.
Stacy quickly wiped her eyes, keeping her gaze averted and at his stomach.
He silently swore at the tears on her cheeks and he reached up, wiping away the wet streaks with his thumbs. "Honey, don't cry. It's ok." Slowly so not to scare her, Edge wrapped his arms around the smaller woman, cradling her preciously against his muscular chest. "Shhhhh, come here. It's ok."
Shuddering, Stacy clutched at him, burying into his chest as she quivered with new tears. "He ... he frightened me." She mumbled. "I ..."
"Shhhh," he hushed, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head before pressing his cheek there, rocking her. "Shhh, don't worry. It'll all be ok." And Edge swallowed hard at the realization that in truth, he was lying to her.
*** There, how was that. Moving along nicely. Tell me what you thought. If you couldn't tell, can't you feel the tension. Just guess what I'm gonna do for next week.***
Author: Crimson Coin Crimson_Coin@yahoo.com
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points.
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.
Archiving: Ask me first.
+++
April 26, 2004
Chris Jericho smiled to himself, strutting backstage and into his locker room. Oh yeah, he was proud. Real proud. He almost got his hands on the bitch tonight. Almost.
He was so close. Just so close. He had his hands on her legs, on her calves as he gripped them and then he flipped her onto her back - a position she was most likely used to, the man spreading her legs and standing between them. Oh yeah, she was real used to that.
Chris remembered smiling out there, the look of her in such a predicament. Ooo, had he loved the fear in her eyes. He couldn't resist the thought of turning her over and applying his submission move. And he even leaned back. Yeah, he wanted to hurt her.
But that stupid Christian and Tyson ... they got in the way. Pulling Trish out of the ring, out of his hold. Stupid bastards, ruining his fun.
Chris reached into his duffel bag, pulling out his cell phone. Rolling his eyes, he deleted the message without even listening. "Fucking women," he swore. So he met this girl once in the bar and she just never left him alone. Alexis ... that was her name. He thought. He really wasn't sure anymore. "None of them are fucking worth it."
"I wouldn't say that."
Chris jumped, turning towards the voice. His eyes widened, his guard heightened at the man in his locker room. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
"It's my locker room too."
"No, it's not."
"Well, I sorta need to hide right now while I recoup."
Chris squinted his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned against the lockers. "You recouped yet? I didn't really want company."
Matt Hardy smiled, holding the icepack firmly to his knee. "Well, tough shit. Cuz you're getting the company."
Chris didn't answer for a good long while, simply eyeing the other man, suspiciously. "She's a good friend of mine, you know."
Matt nodded.
Chris nodded too, looking up to an abandoned corner of the room for a long few more moments. "We've moved past everything from those years ago. She's forgiven me. And now, she's the only true friend I have left. She's the only friend left that doesn't judge me."
Matt cocked his head, his eyes focused, his listening intent.
Chris shook his head, sighing. "Every other friend I still have. Scott, Edge, Benoit. They judge me. But not Lita. She doesn't judge me."
"She never was one to judge." Matt said softly. "That was something different about her."
"I'm not so sure about that."
Matt shook his head. "No. Lita was never one to judge. Sometimes she'd get hunches. But she would always give the person the benefit of the doubt. Even you."
Chris cocked his head. "What do you mean? Like now."
"No, not now." Matt answered softly. "Those years ago. Jeff and I were wary of you, defending us and her especially. And I was pissed as hell, thinking you were trying to take her away from me, from us ... from Team Xtreme."
Chris didn't answer.
"But Lita trusted you." Matt said, then chuckled lightly. "I don't know why, but she trusted you. And Jeff kinda did too. But only after she convinced him. See, Jeff is much more easily swayed then me."
"I slept with her."
"What?"
Chris sighed, shaking his head and looking away from Matt. "Lita. I slept with her." He waited then, waited for the anger, the jealousy, the repercussions of his actions. But it never came.
"I don't care."
"What?"
Matt shrugged. "I have no business caring. She wasn't mine. She never was. Maybe that was my problem. I tried to make her mine and Lita ... she ... she's not the type to be caged like that."
Chris nodded.
"I'm not angry at you ... or her for what you two did." Matt continued. "Actually, I kinda understand. And I'm glad you were there for her ... and she for you."
"I'm sorry about breaking your fingers."
Matt smiled. "It wasn't you, it was Christian. Plus, he was acting on her account and I can't blame him either. I deserved it."
Chris shook his head. "Why'd you do it, Matt? I mean ... a guy couldn't ask for a better girl than Lita."
The Hardy laughed at himself, raking the hair from his eyes. "I know that now. I don't know what I was thinking then. I don't deserve her, Chris. I know that. And I was too proud after I was such an asshole to her and I just ... I couldn't go back. I ... I didn't deserve to throw myself at feet and beg her to take me back."
"You still love her, don't you?"
"Of course, I do." Matt answered with a soft, sad smile. "How could I not? We were together for four years. You don't just stop loving someone overnight, no matter how long you were together."
"You can." Chris answered.
But Matt shook his head. "No. You can't. You can be with someone for a month and be madly in love ... you can't just turn that off if things go sour. You can't forget. That's the way I see it, at least."
Chris remained calm, resisting the urge to just rip off the Hardy's lips for making such a comment. It wasn't true. He didn't love Trish. She was a whore and a bitch and ... he ... he couldn't love her. He never would. He never did.
Matt sighed, forcing himself to his feet with a wince. "And I know I can never make it up to her. But ... I love her. And when a man loves a woman ... he does anything to make sure she never gets hurt."
Chris's eyes narrowed as the Hardy walked from the room and he snarled with a gruff, his teeth clenched at that last statement. Who the hell did Matt Hardy think he was, making a statement so nonchalant like that?
Growling his anger, Chris barged out of his locker room, glancing one way than the next down the hall. Quickly choosing a direction, he stormed off in that direction. Intent on what, he didn't know. But he just walked. His mind racing, his heart pounding, his breath heavy ... what the hell was coming over him?
His eyes widened, a slyly slick smile spreading onto his face and he put his hands on his hips. "Well, if it isn't the resident whore."
Trish Stratus spun quickly, her face changing from surprised and frightened to blazing and angered in a matter of moments. "Just get the fuck out of here."
Chris laughed, heartily, placing a hand on his chest. "Oh ho ho ho, Oh god. That's rich." He cupped his ear with his hand, leaning towards her. "What is it you'd like me to fuck? I'm sorry, speak up. Or is there something in your mouth. Cylindrical and salty maybe?"
Disgusted, furious, Trish's eyes blazed, her teeth clenched and her eyes narrowed. "You fucking bastard. You sick fucking bastard. Do you have nothing better to do then stand there and torture me."
Jericho shrugged, that smile never leaving his face. "Hey, sweetheart. If that's what you're into ... then I'm game for anything. But I warn you ... I only got a twenty on me, I'm not that tempted to break a fifty on your services."
"What do you want, Jericho?" She snarled, her muscles tense and eyes piercing. "What do you want from me?"
"Oh, I'm just havin a little fun." He drawled, taking a few steps closer to her.
Trish held her ground, her head held high. "Well, you've had your fun. Now leave me alone."
"Aw, Baby." He cooed, sarcastically, stepping close to her. "I figured the benefits would be much better if you had fun with a man than all by your lonesome. At least you could get a steady paycheck that way."
Trish's eyes fired at his cocky smirk and she broadened her shoulders, quickly recoiling her hand.
Chris's head whipped back violently at her vicious slap.
"You fucking asshole." She sneered, growled at him.
His eyes on fire, Chris glared at her. Not hesitating a second, he roughly gripped her arms, shoving, and pinning her viciously against the wall. Trish squeaked at his fierceness, but she stayed unwavering, unafraid of the violent serge in him.
"Go ahead." She coaxed. "Hit me. You fucking bastard. Just do it, and get it outta your system. I don't know how I ever could have felt something for you."
"You never did." He snarled, his eyes narrowed as they stood nose to nose. His breath panting, his heart racing, his body shook with intensity and he tightened his grip on her. He knew when she squirmed in discomfort; his hold was too tight. ... Good.
"Didn't I?" Was her only response.
His eyes intense, he stared into her deep brown eyes. His eyes trailed over her brow, her cheeks and neck then lips ... good God, those lips. He closed his eyes. Not again. No ... not again. Quickly, he cleared his mind of those lustful thoughts. ... Or at least, tried to.
"Get the fuck away from her!"
Before Jericho could even react, a fist impacted his jaw and he stumbled away from Trish landing hard on the floor, right on his tail bone. He hissed, winced as the sharp pain stabbed up his spine, but he shook that off, eyeing his attacker.
Tyson Tomko growled, his muscles tensed as he glared at the man who was attacking the woman he swore to protect.
Gathering his strength, Jericho pushed up onto his feet, ready to fight. Tomko charged.
"No, Tyson." Trish broke in, placing herself in front of her protector, her hands on his pecks as she blocked the big man. "Tyson, don't. Don't, I'm ok. I swear."
Tyson narrowed his eyes, his fists clenching as he cracked his neck. "I see his hand prints on your arm." He said, deeply, intensely.
"That's not from him." Trish said, quickly. "It's not. I swear."
"Then who?" Tyson asked, sternly. "Who put that mark on your arm?"
"It's nothing." Trish pleaded. "Please, please just forget about it. Don't worry. I'm ok. Just ... let's just leave."
Tyson took a moment, eyeing her then sending a warning glare in Jericho's direction. "I'll escort you back to the locker room."
Trish glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes softening a moment at the sight of a little trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. But she quickly turned her back, grabbing Tyson's large hand as they walked down the hall.
Jericho brought his fingers to his mouth, wiping away the little trickle as his eyes locked on her retreating form. "Bitch." He muttered to himself. "That filthy bitch."
His glare narrowed as he watched her tiny hand on the big man's arm. That tiny hand and her delicate almost affectionate touch. That whore. That tramp. She was probably screwing Tomko too. That whore. That gorgeous two timing whore.
Chris viciously shook his head. No! No, what was he thinking? Gorgeous? She ... Trish was a tramp. A tramp and he knew it. Everyone knew it. Well, assumed ... no. Everyone knew it. Trish Stratus was a tramp.
"Chris?"
He slowly turned his angered eyes towards the voice.
Stacy Keibler shied further into herself, ducking her head and recoiling inward, afraid of him. "Chris, I ... I've been looking for you."
"Well, you found me." He sadistically snapped. "So what do you want?"
Stacy shuddered, licking her lips as she glanced longingly around the hall, wishing that she wasn't alone with him. "I ... I'm sorry, Chris. I ... I just wanted ... wanted to see if you were ok."
"Do I look ok to you?" His eye actually twitched as he pointed to himself. "Do I ... look ok ... to you?"
"I ... I ... I ..."
"No, seriously, Stacy." Chris laughed, sarcastically. "I mean really. Take a good fucking look at me. Do I look ... ok?"
Stacy wrapped her arms around her waist, ducking her head.
"Do I?!" He yelled, stepping closer to her, nose to nose. "DO I!" he finally screamed in her face.
"Hey!"
Chris jostled as he was tossed back.
Edge quickly placed himself in front of Stacy, keeping her to his back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Stacy only shuddered, her hands on the small of her protector's back. She was frightened. More frightened then with Test or Steiner.
Chris glared, intense and almost insane with the glint in his eye.
Edge pointed down the hall. "Just get the fuck outta here, ok? Get yourself fucking together."
Chris didn't move but kept his eyes locked on the other man.
Edge stood tall, refusing to back down. As the seconds ticked past, he felt Stacy clutch at the back of his shirt, her tiny fingers fisting the fabric and the waist of his pants. She was frightened, shaking. He didn't like that.
Blinking slowly, Chris turned his back, walking away.
Edge released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Shaking his head, he turned towards the woman at his back. "Oh, Sweetie." He cooed at the sight of her.
Stacy quickly wiped her eyes, keeping her gaze averted and at his stomach.
He silently swore at the tears on her cheeks and he reached up, wiping away the wet streaks with his thumbs. "Honey, don't cry. It's ok." Slowly so not to scare her, Edge wrapped his arms around the smaller woman, cradling her preciously against his muscular chest. "Shhhhh, come here. It's ok."
Shuddering, Stacy clutched at him, burying into his chest as she quivered with new tears. "He ... he frightened me." She mumbled. "I ..."
"Shhhh," he hushed, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head before pressing his cheek there, rocking her. "Shhh, don't worry. It'll all be ok." And Edge swallowed hard at the realization that in truth, he was lying to her.
*** There, how was that. Moving along nicely. Tell me what you thought. If you couldn't tell, can't you feel the tension. Just guess what I'm gonna do for next week.***