Title: Endless Love
Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.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.
Chris Jericho waited patiently atop the steel cage. "Like hell I'm coming down there." He yelled at Tyson. "Come on, you big buffoon. What ... ape man can't climb the cage. Yeah ... yeah ... that's what I thought."
Tyson narrowed his eyes, backing up slightly and kneeling down next to Trish, lowering his eyes to her tiny form as he placed a large hand on her back. "Trish?"
"I'm fine." Trish said, softly. "I'm really fine."
Tyson turned his gaze from the woman back to Jericho. "Why don't you come down here and fight me like a man then? Putting your hands on her ... I should kill you for that."
Jericho laughed, throwing a hand in the air. "Go ahead. Just you try. Why don't YOU bring that lumbering ass up here and get me?" He smiled as the crowd continued to roar. He knew the cameras were off but he didn't care. He raised his arms. "I'm the King of the World!"
Tyson shook his head, careful as he rubbed that large hand over Trish's back. "Do you need me to help you?"
"No." Trish answered quickly. "Help Christian. I'm fine." She winced slightly, pushing up onto her feet and surprised herself when it didn't hurt to stand. Reaching out, she grabbed the ring ropes for emergency support but once standing, realized she didn't need that extra balance. There was no pain. Straightening her back, she glanced up at the top of the cage.
Jericho's eyes were intense, staring powerfully at her. His ice blue eyes shone brightly despite being so far away and Trish swallowed hard as he looked right through her. A slight frown curled his lips, his shoulders sagged as his eyes locked on her. So captivating, so beautiful. She'd forgotten how beautiful his eyes really were. It had been so long since he looked at her void of anger.
Bowing her head, Trish turned her back, walking quickly out the cage door and up the ramp.
Chris Jericho wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked slowly down the hollow corridor of the arena. Directionless, he didn't care where he was going. He simply walked.
Her familiar voice carried to his ears and he had to close his eyes to the pain. No. He couldn't let her voice get to him again. The sound of her voice brought the utmost physical pain to his heart. But Chris was a masochist and couldn't walk away.
He couldn't understand what she was saying, not yet at least. He continued down the hall past various doors until reaching Christian's locker room. He could hear them inside.
"That looks terrible. Why don't you have it checked out?"
"I'm fine."
"I'm serious, Christian. That really looks gross. You should make sure you don't need stitches."
"I don't care. I'm fine." Christian paused a few moments, some scuffling prominent. "What the hell were you doing coming into the ring like that? You had to have known he would attack you."
Chris felt a stinging pain at those words.
"I ... I don't know."
"Were you going to hit him with that chair?"
"God, no. I ... I couldn't. I ... I couldn't. Oh God, Sweetie, please get that checked out."
"You're changing the subject."
"So what if I am."
Christian let out a heavy sigh. "Trish ... Honey, don't do this to yourself."
Chris closed his eyes, their constant use of endearments tearing him apart and still he couldn't walk away. His mind had been consumed with her and that his vision from last week truly was a sign. They were meant to be. And he just had to find a way. Licking his lips, he leaned closer to the door.
"He didn't hurt me tonight."
"What?"
"With the walls. He ... He didn't apply it high or do anything where it would have hurt me. It's like he knew just how flexible I was and didn't push any harder."
Chris bit his tongue, the sexual connotations in that last comment filling the air. No ... no he couldn't say anything. No doubt Christian would say something anyway.
"I don't care how flexible you are ... I don't want him hurting you."
Chris furrowed his brow. What? No sexual innuendos. No come on's, no flirting. There was no response for a good long while. Only deafening silence in the room.
"If her hurts me ... I deserve it."
"Don't say that."
"I've hurt him." She snarled. "So if he hurts me I deserve it. I deserve every God damned thing he does."
"No. Don't say that. Good Lord, I don't care what you did, you don't deserve to be treated this way." A pause for a moment or two. "You know," one could hear the smile in Christian's voice. "Tyson seems to be taking a real liking to you."
Trish giggled. "What can I say? I bat an eyelash and I can get any man to do as I please."
Christian laughed. "Yes, my dear, you certainly can."
There was a pause for some time before Trish's voice rang soft and hurt. "If I only I could do that where it counted."
"Oh sweetie. Please don't cry. You know I hate to see you cry."
"I'm not crying."
"Now you're lying to me."
"Christian, what ... what about Lita?"
"Well ... if I were truly honest what you did was mean and horrible and traumatic to a woman who used to be your best friend. On the other hand ... it was pretty damn funny."
"I was legitimately concerned, you know."
"I'm sure you were."
"It wasn't my fault." Trish said, quickly. "Eric was standing at the far side and he was listening and ... and that was the first thing that came to my mind."
"One of these days. I'm gonna get that slimy Eric Bischoff."
Chris Jericho cocked his head. Slimy ... Eric Bischoff? Was he hearing correctly? Why did Trish and Christian sound concerned, like they truly cared one way or the other? And they cared about others? Odd. Very very odd.
"I can't wait."
And Trish felt the same way? Shocked, Chris pulled away from the door, his eyes narrowed as confusion raced through his mind. What was going on? More curious and even more masochistic, he leaned in again, listening carefully.
She sighed, delicately, letting out a soft yawn. "I'm exhausted, Christian. I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel."
"Ok. I want to shower first and rinse some of this blood away."
"Are you going to be all right?"
"Of course, Babe." He answered with a smile. "The real important question is ... are you?"
"Yeah."
"You ok to stay alone tonight. Cuz just say the word and you can sleep with me."
Chris viciously shook his head, stepping away from the door and walking down the hall. He couldn't listen anymore. He didn't want to here Christian propositioning her to his bed. Just the thought of Christian sharing a bed with his Trish repulsed him to ... wait.
His Trish?
Where had that come from? Why had he called her that? She wasn't his. She never was and never would be. From where did that sudden possessive surge rise?
Blinking furiously, he stared down the opposite end of the hall. Edge stood with Stacy outside his locker room, the two blondes smiling at each other, laughing and joking about something or other. Chris didn't know; he couldn't really hear them. Edge laughed heartily as Stacy slipped into his arms, giving him a comforting hug and the blonde man's eyes wandered down the hall, locking with Chris.
Jericho shuddered, the sudden glare shooting from his former friend sending chills down his spine. Mental note to self: Rectify situation with Stacy and Edge.
But Chris couldn't handle that now. He was far from stable enough to control his own emotions right now much less coping with others in an attempt to mend burnt bridges. He turned his head away, staring back towards Christian's locker room.
He couldn't clear his mind of the visions, the signs from the last week. He didn't want to admit to himself the possibility of witnessing such a glorious miracle. In honesty the concept of an angel of the Lord speaking directly to him was quite frightening and he wasn't emotionally ready yet to deal with the burning thought of that.
But Chris still couldn't get a certain thought from his mind. The thought that Trish was acting. The thought that there was more to her and possibly Christian's actions then what were on the surface. He didn't like that thought. And listening to Trish speak with Christian in an almost brotherly fashion did nothing to quench that curiosity, but only sparked it.
His eyes focused, narrowing as Christian's locker room door opened and Trish stepped outside. Her head bowed, she paused in the hallway a moment, gathering herself and Chris cocked his head, eyeing her carefully. Looking at her from afar, there was no doubt in his mind. That woman was still his Trish, the woman he fell in love with ... the women he was with up until Wrestlemania. She was the same. Mannerisms, facial expressions, even the essence he could feel traveling down the hall. Though something was still different, as if she weren't whole but only shelled in this cruel place. She was weak, scared. He didn't like that.
Chris closed his eyes. No. This was wrong. He shouldn't feel that way, he had no right. He had no right to still care for Trish Stratus. Whether she cared for him or not made no difference. She had made her choice. She betrayed him. She broke his heart and chose his best friend. She slapped him, embarrassed him and then kissed his best friend passionately. And seemingly proud.
Forcing his eyes opened, he looked back down in her direction. She still hadn't noticed him and Chris felt some relief at that. She sighed heavily, leaning against the wall as she pressed a hand into her eyes, controlling herself best she could. And still looking at her like this, so vulnerable and so beautiful ... Chris just couldn't believe that Trish Stratus had betrayed him.
Her hand dropped gently to her side and she blinked a few times, tilting her head back as she sighed, composing herself. Pushing off the wall, her eyes met his and instantly widened. The second time in less than an hour and he was staring at her again. But this stare was so different than the ones he gave only last week or the week before. His eyes no longer shined with hate and malice.
No more did anger dwell dominant in his eyes. But instead the vengeful rage was replaced with pain, longing and hurt. Just looking at him brought fresh tears to her eyes and Trish knew she had to look away. She just had to look away before she caved, flying to his arms and then collapsing at his feet, begging for forgiveness.
She wanted him back. She wanted him back more than ever. She wanted his arms around her again, to hold her as he did that week back in March. She wanted his body to cradle hers, his lips and mouth to worship hers. She wanted to hold his heart, to hold his body again. His eyes so bright and blue and so very beautiful. But they were glassed and full of pain. Pain that she put there and was completely responsible for.
Unable to look anymore, Trish quickly turned her back, rushing away from his prying eyes and away from the love she could still see and feel within him. This wasn't right. Why couldn't he just hate her so that the pain would end and she could heal? Why couldn't he ...
She gasped as a rough hand grabbed her arm and she was whipped against the cement wall, another hand grabbing her opposite wrist to keep her from moving. Composing herself from the impact, she opened her eyes, staring up into those same crystal blues again.
Chris breathed slowly, controlled as he held her firmly, his grip not hard but strong and he pinned her to the wall, holding her hands behind her back so she couldn't get away. His eyes locked on hers and he searched the familiar beauteous depths.
Trish swallowed hard, yearning to look away and just run. But she couldn't. He wouldn't let her. Captivated, helpless she just stared into his eyes, willing her stoned mask to raise and protect her from his gaze. But it wouldn't and Trish stood vulnerable ... open to him and anything he wished to see.
His intensity frightened her though only for a moment. Just looking in his eyes, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. His eyes silently begged for answers, for an explanation and in that instant he stopped believing her previous excuses and stories. He wanted the truth. She could see it.
Resisting every urge to curl into his arms and just cry, Trish blinked a few times, though the action did not stop the teardrops from falling down her cheek. "Chris," she pleaded, his name easily rolling off her tongue. "Chris, let me go."
He closed his eyes at those words, ignoring any possible hidden message in them and he shook his head. He didn't respond verbally, but only opened his eyes, searching hers yet again.
"Chris, just don't. Don't." She squirmed under his grasp, worming her wrists from his hold then quickly ducking under his arms.
Chris turned slowly, confused and hurt as she raced away from him and down the corridor. He'd seen more in her eyes that single moment than he'd seen in what seemed like forever. He wanted answers. He wanted answers now.
And none of the bullshit they'd been feeding him lately. He wouldn't trust Christian. He wouldn't trust Tyson or Edge or Stacy or anyone else. He wanted to hear it from Trish. And not in front of the cameras this time where she may be forced to 'act' or be fake. No no, he needed her alone. Chris would find a way.
(End this chapter. Moving along nicely. Here's hoping I didn't dig myself into a hole Read ... review ... let me know what you think. )