Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin

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.

August 30, 2004

Christian smiled his usual cocky victorious grin as he strutted down the arena corridor. The night was fabulous. His back was healed, he finally returned to RAW. And he finally gave that bastard Chris Jericho what was coming to him.

His smile brightened as he turned the corner, pointing and winking at one of those diva contestants. Oh yeah. Trish could finally rest at ease. Christian would take care of everything.

What in the hell had happened over those summer months? He was gone for so little a time and everything seemed to fall to hell. And it was Chris's fault.

Christian's eyes narrowed. He was lucky to have someone like Tyson Tomko. Tyson had made it apparent to call every week and fill in the details. About Trish and Chris coming around to each other, about Chris striking against her, about the 'thing' with Randy, and with everything else.

Christian nodded, sniffing harshly as he rolled his shoulders. Yes. It was Chris's fault. If Chris hadn't done a damn thing, none of this would have happened. Christian knew that if he wasn't injured, he could have kept an eye on things, kept everything in check and made sure that none of these extravaganzas occurred.

Clearing his throat, Christian slipped his belt back through his belt loops and fastened the buckle. Chris Jericho deserved everything he got out there. He deserved to be attacked, to be beaten with a belt, to be smashed with a chair. He would pay for ever messing up that precious woman's life.

She loved him. That was her only fault, loving a man like Chris Jericho. A man who wasn't even completely a man in his own right. A man who never knew what he had until it was gone. A complete jackass that had no right to live.

Licking his lips, that smile still on his face, he pushed into her locker room.

"How could you?" Trish cried, throwing herself into Christian's arms and she pounded once on his chest with a clenched fist. "How could you do that to him?"

This certainly was not the greeting he was expecting.

Trish buried her face into his chest, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Why? Why would you do that?"

Christian furrowed his brow, cocking his head as he wrapped his arms around her, embracing her in purest affection. "You mean Chris?"

She nodded, sniffling to regain her composure.

"He had it coming." Christian answered intensely, venom coating his words. "For putting you in tears. For hitting you. For making you cry right now. For deliberately trying to break my back during that cage match."

Trish pushed back, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she looked up into his eyes. "Do you know how he's been lately?"

"Miserable, I hope." Christian snarled, his eyes locked on the red rimmed and swollen eyes of the woman in his arms. "I hope he's so fucking miserable, he doesn't know what to do with himself."

A shocked panged expression crossed Trish's face at those words. "You have no idea. You have no idea what you're wishing on him."

"Why are you so guilty? You're acting like this upsets you." Christian shook his head in disbelief. "Don't tell me that you can still care about him. He struck you ... for no reason."

"He had a reason."

"Is that what you think?" Christian asked, a slight scolding tone in his voice. "Don't tell me that you think you deserved it. Don't tell me you're one of those."

"No!" Trish snapped, shaking her head viciously. "No, I don't think I deserved it." Her eyes narrowed. "But I understand. I understand what he saw and you weren't there for it. You don't know what happened."

"I do." Christian growled back, pushing her away from him. "He over-reacted. He wasn't man enough to deal with the reality of life and the flaws that are in people and he couldn't take it. So what did he do? He hit you. He hit you! Does that register in that mind of yours? Does it click in that blonde head what he did to you? What he actually did to you?"

"Of course it does," she yelled, shoving him back by the chest then doing her best to retain her balance. "Of course I do. Of course I do." She raked a rough hand through her hair, resisting every tear and every sob that quivered inside. "I know what he did and I know what it meant but I understand."

She licked her lips, raising her hand to silence him so she could continue. "But I don't blame him. I don't. I can't."

"Why?" Christian asked, infuriated, mass confusion racing his mind. "You're not making any sense."

"I am." She snapped back. "And I know what I say. I know what it sounds like and I don't care. I know what he saw. He saw ... he saw that tape of me with all those men. And I was furious. Because it wasn't true."

Christian cocked his head.

Trish sniffed. "It wasn't. I wasn't with that many men. I was with a lot, yes. But not nearly as many as Eric accused me of. Those women on that tape ... it all wasn't me. And I can only imagine what he felt like watching that. And ... and I understand that he lost control."

Christian crossed his arms, turning his back in disgust.

Trish stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You haven't seen him. The guilt of what he did ... what it's done to him. He's an absolute mess."

"He didn't sound messed out there. He sounded like his usual cocky self."

"You know as well as I do that Chris isn't always like that." She said, softly. "You know how he is, how sensitive he can be and the type of man he really is. That wasn't like him. What happened. And from the way he is ... and acting ... I can't hate him. I can't blame him. I just can't."

"So you're going back to him. You're going back to his arms, to ... to him."

Trish ducked her head.

Christian sighed, stepping away from her. "I'm not gonna stop what I'm doing. Chris is going to pay for his mistakes. I'm not quite so forgiving as you. And if you're by my side or not, I don't care." He turned, his dangerous eyes locking on hers. "And I don't care if he's not all himself or if he's troubled or messed up." Christian brushed past her and to the door. Without giving her a second glance, he stepped out.

Chris Jericho moaned, shifting his weight on the table. He lay on his stomach, his legs outstretched and his arms dangling off to either side. His head hung off the end, his neck resting against the edge of the table. He was weak. He was tired.

"Well, lookie lookie here."

Chris growled at the voice, glancing to his side. "What do you want?"

Edge shrugged, an amused smile on his face as he leaned on his crutches. "I'm just admiring my brother's handy work."

Jericho narrowed his eyes, glaring dangerously at the other injured man. "Are you quite finished?"

Edge shook his head. "Not at all. I think it's wonderful how you and Christian have such a solid friendship. You know, Christian getting the better of you out there ... I can see why Trish would want him over you."

Chris clenched his teeth.

Edge only smiled, chuckling to himself. He knew what he said wasn't true. But that wasn't the point. Chris didn't. "You never were man enough for her, were you? She had the ride with you and just ... well you couldn't measure up to any other men."

"Shut up."

"Whipped like the jackass you are." Edge sneered, then laughed as the trainers pulled Jericho's shirt off. "You fucking asshole." He turned his back, walking to the door. "You had it coming."

Chris ground his teeth, his body tense as the rage surged through his system. When the trainer touched his back, he jumped. "Don't." he commanded.

"But Chris ..."

"I said, don't." He clarified dangerously, his eyes ablaze with anger and the trainers just backed away. "Leave me alone."

The head trainer nodded, leading his crew to the door. "We'll be back in about ten minutes, when you've relaxed. Maybe then you'll let us help you.

Chris snarled, growling to himself as the door closed and he bowed his head again, staring at the floor. He felt the rage consume him and that was all he could feel. Unadulterated rage. He just wanted to rip something apart, to hurt someone. Maybe even ...

He gasped, his eyes widening when a pair of delicate hands cupped his face. His body stiffened and he swallowed hard. Not fighting, he allowed the tiny soft hands to raise his head and his breath stopped when his eyes met those of Trish Stratus.

"Oh God," She sighed, letting her eyes fall closed as she pressed her forehead to his, holding him in place so he couldn't fight. "Oh, Chris, I saw what happened out there and ... I am so sorry."

Chris shivered, his body trembling from only her touch and he found himself relaxing, his anger diminishing from her simple presence.

"Shhh," she hushed, brushing her fingers through his hair as she nuzzled him, affectionately. Her nose brushing against his as she coaxed a tender response from him. "Come on, Chris."

He swallowed hard. "I ... I don't understand. What ... what are you doing?"

She sighed, moving forward and continuing to nuzzle him until her cheek pressed to his. "Chris," she breathed, her breath so warm on his ear. "Don't tell me you've forgotten how to be affectionate."

He stiffened.

"Oh God, has it been that long?"

He licked his lips, his body and his heart cracking and caving against his will. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and all he wanted to do was push her away to stop the pain. She was the cause of his pain. She always brought him pain.

"Chris," she sighed. "I know it's still in you. I know you still care."

He viciously shook his head, pushing her away. "No."

Trish stumbled slightly from his force and she cocked her head, eyeing him with worry. Then she saw his back and the tender open wounds caused by Christian's beating. "Oh my God." She raced to his side, touching the reddened skin with a soft hand.

"Don't touch!" he snapped. "Don't touch me."

Trish swallowed hard, the pain of his outright rejection striking her very core. She bowed her head, taking two steps back from him. "I'm sorry."

Chris sighed, pushing up onto his hands and with a painful wince, he sat up. Hanging his legs over the edge of the table, he slouched, his head bowed. He just sat, bare-chested and ever so sad.

Trish watched him curiously. Destroyed. That was the only word she could think of to describe him at this very moment. His hair straggly, his body slumped and his face drawn. As if he'd seen a ghost or was haunted by some tangling memory, it panged him so that his inner turmoil was outwardly visible.

Chris tilted his head one way, his eyes closed as he leaned forward. His hands braced on the edge of the table, he exhaled a deep breath, trying desperately to control his swirling emotions. He didn't know what he was feeling.

She couldn't take it. She couldn't handle it anymore.

Trish stepped right up to him, right between his legs and she cupped his face in her hands. When his eyes widened in shock, she didn't care but pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him.

Chris felt his heart stop at the embrace and he clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut to stop any feeling.

Trish pressed her cheek to his, hugging him tightly and pressing as close to him as she could. "I'm so sorry, Chris. This is all my fault."

He didn't respond but simply ducked his head into her embrace.

She sighed, rubbing her hands along his wounded back; he shuddered at that, whimpering in pain but he didn't push her away. "There's so much you don't know, Chris, and ... and maybe if I told you before then none of this would have happened and you wouldn't be the way you are right now."

Chris licked his lips, his one arm wrapping around her waist to hold her, pulling her a little further into his chest.

Trish smiled at his response and she only hugged him tighter. "See? I knew you still had it. There's so much I want to tell you, Chris. I ... I don't know where to start."

He shivered and trembled. She was in his arms again, and talking to him, willingly and not yelling. It was like she wanted to be there, wanted to be with him. This couldn't be real. It had to be a dream.

"But we don't have time now." Trish continued, cooing softly in his ear. "You have to get everything checked out and make sure you're ok." She sniffed, pushing back from him and she kept her eyes low, watching as she traced her hands over his chest.

Chris shivered again, but still did not speak.

"Please," she begged, brushing her fingers along his cheek. "Christian has it out for you and he's not gonna stop." She ducked down slightly, grabbing his eyes with hers. "Chris? He's not gonna stop. And I ... I don't really have much of a choice."

Chris licked his lips, his eyes searching both of hers.

"I don't wanna go into it," she continued, averting her eyes. "But if I'm by his side next week, never think that I want to be there. I don't want to see you hurting. Not anymore. The ... the sight of you ... like this..." she shook her head. "I'm tired of pain. I don't want pain anymore, Chris. And I know you don't either. And maybe ... well maybe you'll heal my pain." She flushed as the words left her mouth and she stepped back from him. "And maybe ... you'll let me heal yours. For good this time."

Chris watched, wide-eyed and confused as she quickly left the room.

(Short abrupt ending, but that was the plan. And next week, you'll see why.)