Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.com

Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.

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.

May 31, 2004

Jeff Hardy laughed, pointing at the screen in Edge's locker room. "Oh, she's good. She's real good."

Edge smiled. "Isn't she? I mean, I never thought Trish would be the one to cut a great heel promo, but she's just so good on that mic. Frogs? Jezebel?"

Jeff crossed his arms around back of his head, leaning down on the couch. "Well, of all the people JR ever called jezebel, Trish is probably the only one that really is a jezebel. Her character is, at least." Stretching, Jeff turned his eyes from the television to Edge. "So, I hear you and Stacy had a little tiff."

"We didn't have a tiff." Edge said, defensively.

Jeff smiled. "I hear ... that you said something to her about all the photo shoots and how provocative she's been in them and that you don't like that. And then I heard that she told you to go scratch."

Edge glared. "You certainly hear a lot, don't you?"

Jeff shrugged. "What can I say? People love to talk to me."

Edge smiled, almost sinisterly. "Talk to Lita?"

Jeff's eyes narrowed, his body tightened. "That's below the belt."

"Well, so is Stacy."

The two sat in silence a long while following that comment. Eventually, Trish's segment ended and Jeff looked back to Edge. He cocked his head. "Wanna go get hammered?"

Edge's grin spread happily from ear to ear. "I was just thinking the same thing."

Jeff stood as Edge gathered his things. "Only this time, please don't go pimping me off to whatever flamboyant creep that makes a pass at me. I'm not gay. I don't know why people think I am. I'm not."

Edge chuckled. "Maybe this time, when he hits on you ..."

"WHEN!"

"Of course when," Edge responded. "Cuz you know they will."

Jeff groaned.

Edge zipped his bag. "When they hit on you, just find some random chick and screw her brains out right in front of them. Then they'll know."

"You know," Jeff smiled. "If I'm drunk enough, I just might take you up on that."

Edge patted his back pocket. "And my cell has the camera built in ... just in case."
Chris Jericho gritted his teeth, an arm wrapped around his waist as he staggered up the ramp of the arena. Every step hurt. Every move hurt. He took a breath; it hurt. More and more it seemed that all he'd been doing lately was hurting. That's all his life had been. One cycle of pain after another. If only he hadn't gone out there in October of last year to ... October of last year. Had it already been that long?

Chris shook his head. He couldn't believe that it was seven months since he charged down that ramp to rescue Trish and every moment since had been a circle of pain. Was it even worth it?

"Of course it was." Jericho openly scolded himself before realizing he said that out loud. Ignoring the curious glances from some of his fellow wrestlers, he continued down the hall at a slow pace. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear his thoughts. Wincing, he rounded the final corner and slipped into his locker room.

He didn't even bother looking around, simply stumbled across the room and plopped down on the couch. He hissed at the impact, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as he closed his eyes, rotating himself and lying on his back. "Fucking A-" he swore to himself. "Ok, just breathe. Relax. ... Ok, yeah. Hurts to breathe. Bad idea."

"Why did you come out there?"

Chris jumped, his eyes flying open in fright, but the movement too fast and his face contorted in pain. "Fuck," he breathed, falling back on the couch, his head tilted back.

Trish sighed, closing her eyes at the sight of him. She walked to the door, flicking the lock before turning to him again, crossing her arms as she gazed past him to a far upper corner of the room. "Why'd you do it, Chris? I told you what I'd have to do. You ... you shoulda just stayed back here."

"You knew I was here." He said through clenched teeth. "You knew I was here. So why did you say that I wasn't?"

"So you didn't come out there." She answered, angrily. "That way maybe you'd get the clue to stay the hell away. But no. No, you have to be stubborn and valiant or whatever the hell you were thinking and walk down there despite your injuries just to prove me wrong. Sometimes ... sometimes you're so stupid, Chris."

Chris smiled, a soft chuckle on his voice. "Yeah, I certainly am. But like I've always told you. It's part of my charm."

"This isn't funny." She said, walking towards him. He flinched slightly but she only sighed, closing her eyes a moment at the sudden rejection she felt. "I'm not going to hurt you. There're no cameras in here." She knelt at his side. "But like I was saying. This really isn't funny."

"You know what was funny though?" He opened his eyes, the warmth and affection most prominent in his gaze. "What you said out there. It was absolutely golden. The J.R. cracks were ingenious and the fact that you called my Jeritron 5000 the Stratustron was even better. You ... you really know what you're doing out there, with this whole act you're putting on."

Trish ducked her head. "Chris, don't. Don't say such things."

"But I'm right." He said quickly, reaching out to grab her hand. "I'm right. It is all an act. I can tell. If it wasn't an act then you wouldn't be here right now. But look, here you are."

She didn't react to his statement but only looked up and away from him, attempting to compose herself. "Don't go there, Chris. Do not go there. It doesn't matter."

"It does." He insisted. "It does matter. It matters because I still care. God damn it, woman, why can't you see that. Don't you think I'm smart enough to know that I could just stay in the back. That I could ignore your every insult and your every taunt and nothing would happen to me."

Trish turned her head, looking back over her shoulder to avoid his eyes.

But he would have none of that. Chris hooked a finger under her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes. Reluctantly, she obeyed. "Don't you know that I could have stopped this at any moment and just let you and Christian taunt without me responding? I could have done that. But I didn't want to. I want to come out there. I want you to taunt me. I want you to have your boys kick my ass."

"Why?" She asked, softly. "Why, Chris?"

Clenching his teeth, he sat up, inching closer to her. "Because that way I still have your attention." He covered her mouth with his.

His kiss so soft, tender and sweet, Trish shuddered at the sensation. Overwhelmed by this display of affection, she felt her throat clench, her body shaking. He was too much to handle. Reaching up, she cupped his face, easing him back. "Chris."

"Don't push me away," he said in a gruff whisper, the strings of saliva and moisture still damp between their lips. "Don't push me away." He sealed their lips again.

Trish sighed, caving into him as her fingers tickled his cheeks then raked back through his hair. But as soon as she returned his kiss, she shook her head, pushing him back again. "No, don't."

Chris swallowed hard, pressing his forehead to hers. "Why? It feels right. I know you feel it to. Be with me."

"I can't," Trish said quickly, placing her fingers over his lips to keep him back. "I've hurt you, Chris. I've ... the second week in a row and look at your ribs and you ... you can't kiss me like that."

"I told you last week." Chris said through a breath. "I don't care what you do to me as long as you're with me." He pulled her hands down, kissing her.

She let out a whimpered moan yet still refused to kiss him back. She placed her hands on his chest, shoving him back forcefully. "Stop it!" she demanded though her voice shook with weakened tears. "Don't kiss me like that. Don't ... don't kiss me like that."

"Why?" he asked, his eyes ablaze for her.

"Don't look at me," Trish scolded, ducking her head. "Don't look at me or kiss me or touch me or anything like that. Just ... just don't."

Chris sat up roughly, his one arm wrapping around her waist while the other cupped her chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "Why?" he breathed, the warm moistness of his breath brushing over her face.

Trish swallowed hard, her eyes locked on the ice blue of his. She licked her lips before speaking in a whisper matching his. "Because when you do ... I can't resist you."

Chris smiled, tightening his arms as he pulled her across his body, laying her at his side and hovering over her. "Then don't resist." He said.

She stopped him before he kissed her. "But your ribs. And what I've done. We can't. Chris, this is wrong."

He shook his head. "No, it's not. And I don't give two damns about my ribs. If this is what I have to endure to hold you, then so be it. I'll put myself through this every God damned week."

"Chris ..."

He covered her lips with his hand, silencing her before gently stroking her cheek and tucking the stray hair behind her ear. "No more thinking. No more worries. Only me ... and you."

She whimpered. "I ..."

"No more." He said quickly but far from harsh. "No more. Who cares about Bischoff or Tomko or JR or the fans or anything else outside this room. The doors are closed and it's only Trish and Chris ... the way we both want it to be."

Trish tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his head to her. And this time, she kissed him with fiercest passion leaving no doubt in his mind of how she felt.
Eric Bischoff smiled that sly grin as he eyed his apprentice. "So tell me again. You say you saw ..."

Johnny smiled just as sly. "Trish Stratus enter Chris Jericho's locker room. And from the sounds of things, they weren't exactly arguing."

"Hmmm," Eric tapped his fingers against his chin. "It looks like our little vixen isn't what she's playing to be."

Johnny nodded. "Just breathe the word, sir, and that tape will find itself into Jericho's possessions."

Taking a few moments to think, Eric finally nodded. "Make it so. And who knows ... maybe next week, Jericho will have a change of heart."

Shorter one this time, but that's ok. Tell me what you think. Moving along nicely, aye? Any ideas, anything you want to see, anything you notice. Review me, let me know and I'll see what I can do.