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.

September 12, 2004 UNFORGIVEN

Chris Jericho winced as he stumbled down the arena corridor to his locker room. Pushing inside, he gasped as he was suddenly attacked.

A pair of delicate female hands reached out, wrapping around his body to cradle him best she could; she helped him walk. "Oh God, Honey."

He shivered at her voice and he turned his head slightly, looking down on the woman beside him. "I'm ok, Trish."

"That looked so painful out there." Trish said softly, reaching up to touch his face, her eyes searching his. "Are you ok? What hurts? Is there anything I can do?"

He smiled softly, his eyes drooped and tired as he presented her with his belt. "I did it."

The worry fell from her face and she smiled brilliantly. "That you did." She lifted onto her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck as she hugged him gently; she didn't want to hurt him. "You did it, Honey. You won. And you beat him."

Jericho nodded, wrapping his arm around her waist – the arm that held his belt – but his other hand still held the icepack to his throbbing shoulder. "I won." He whispered, awed that he was able to win. "And ... and Tyson didn't go out there for him." He licked his lips. "What ... what did you promise Tomko?"

Trish pushed away from him, staring up into his eyes. "It's not what you think."

He cocked his head. "Then ... then what?"

Her smile warmed at the look of him. Was he slightly jealous? "It wasn't sex or anything of the sort. I just promised him that next time ... dinner is my treat."

"You ... you mean that Tomko chose you over Christian for dinner?"

Trish nodded. "Not even a date. He covered me a couple weeks ago and I owe him a dinner. That's it."

"But ..."

"Trust me," Trish coaxed. "Tyson's loyal to me in the end."

Chris clenched his teeth, walking to the couch in his room then fell back, landing with a grunt. He watched as she immediately sat next to him and he dropped the strap of his belt, holding the ice more securely now. He winced again, shifting his weight.

"God, is it that bad?" She shifted off the couch, kneeling at its side as she lifted his legs. "Lay down."

He didn't fight her as he rested his legs on the couch, lying back with a sigh.

"Technically, Tomk ... Tyson works for Christian. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. But I had him tonight. And that kept him away from you."

He cocked his head, watching as she removed his boots, then place her hands over his knee. She remembered. She saw how his knee hit the ladder on multiple occasions. And she remembered.

Trish hissed. "Always this knee."

He exhaled a strenuous breath. She remembered that too. She remembered this was the knee he blew out protecting her.

She carefully eased the leg of his tights up, pushing to the knee, but his knee was already swollen and she couldn't get it further. "Hun, you're gonna have to get out of these tights."

"What?"

She shrugged. "There's nothing else I can do without your knee exposed and I can't get the tights over it." She tapped his thigh, standing. "So come on. Let's go."

Jericho's eyes widened as he nervously licked his lips. "What ... he ... here? Now?"

Trish nodded.

"But ... but I ..." he flushed, ducking his head. "I ... I don't wear anything ... under my tights and ..."

She laughed then shook her head at his nerves. "I've seen you before, Hun. It's not that big a deal."

He only bowed his head, unresponsive.

She ducked down, meeting his eyes with hers. "If I leave for a moment, will you be ok to get them off yourself, and then call me back inside?"

Chris gave a shaky nod and he watched nervously as she walked from the room. Realizing the breath he'd been holding, he pushed to his feet. Good Lord, did she really expect him to ... he couldn't.

Moaning slightly, he stumbled to his bag and hooked his fingers into his tights. Struggling fruitlessly, he finally managed to push them down to his ankles. Damn, his knee really was swollen, and throbbing at that.

Breathing deeply and harshly, he clenched his teeth as he wiggled, stepping out of his tights. Exhaling a few times, he gathered himself, doing best to act through the pain. Twisting slightly, he glanced over his shoulder.

He hissed. "Damn, that's nasty." He muttered, staring at the giant bruise on one side of his butt. Rolling his shoulder, he grabbed his elbow, moving the joint a few times to remove the stiffness.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a pair of gym shorts, his favorite pair of soccer shorts. Struggling even more than before, he managed to put one foot through the leg. Clenching his teeth, he whimpered as he put his full weight on his injured knee. Both feet finally on the floor, he pulled the shorts up.

"You done yet?" Trish asked, stepping back into the room carrying to bags filled with ice, just as his pants cleared his butt and he adjusted them nervously around his waist.

"I ... I could have still been naked."

Trish laughed. "But you're not and I was worried so ... oh my God, your knee."

Chris winced again as she raced over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist to help him back to the couch. "It's not that bad." He mustered. "It ... well ..." he flushed.

"What is it?" She helped him turn slightly then eased him to sit down.

He yelped, squirming in pain as he quickly shifted his weight, lying on his side, his knee forgotten.

Trish eyed him carefully.

Chris groaned, shifting further to lie on his stomach. His head on its side, he mumbled half against the cushion. "Ladder ... ass ... ow."

She didn't react at first. Her mind raced, her eyes shifting as she remembered back to his match. Knee. That was all she could think of. Maybe elbow. But his knee and then when he fell off that ladder and his knee twisted when his butt hit the ...

"Pain." He continued to mumble. "Oh God."

Trish burst out laughing.

His eyes grew sorrowed as he gazed pitifully up at her, though managed not to move an inch. "I'm glad you find pleasure in my pain!"

"Oh no, Honey." She cooed at his obvious hurt from her laughter. "I don't ... I don't want to see you hurt." She knelt at his side, right by his head so she could look on his face and she reached out, combing her fingers through his sweat tangled hair. "I didn't know what you were talking about at first."

"My ass." He clarified. "The ladder." He sniffed, a tear rising to his eyes. "Lots of pain."

She smiled. "I was going to tie these ice bags to your knee. But it looks like you may want it somewhere else."

"This is so embarrassing." He admitted as she moved down his body.

"Lift your leg first. I'm gonna ice your knee."

He obeyed, lifting his leg; it hurt. When she tapped his thigh, he slowly lowered his leg, his knee settling into the large bag of ice. It was large enough that the pressure of his leg separated the ice a little and the coldness enveloped his knee. He sighed, slightly relieved.

"Uhm ..." Trish sucked her lower lip into her mouth. "Chris?"

"What?"

She cocked her head. "Do ... do I put the ice ... inside your shorts?"

He froze at her suggestion.

"I'll put it on top. Uhm ... which ..." a smile tugged at her lips. "Which cheek?"

Chris groaned. "Right."

Trish chuckled as she placed the ice bag where he needed then sat back onto her heels, looking back in his face.

His eyes wearily met hers. "What?"

Her smile brightened, almost beamed. "I've never had a steel enema before. What was it like?"

He frowned, grumbling at her laughter. "That funny to you, huh."

"I'm sorry." She apologized, reaching out to place her palm on his back, noting the way he shivered at her touch.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, settling into the warmth of her touch, despite being freezing from all the ice and his lack of clothing in a cool room. "Ow."

"Aww, poor Baby." She cooed, rubbing his back in a most comforting way. "But think of it this way. You got that title. You went through hell and you proved to everyone ... that you're better than Christian."

He nodded. "Yeah. And ... and you helped keep the match fair. You ... you kept Tomko out of it."

She inched closer, cocking her head to look in his eyes. "I knew that if Tyson was out there ... you didn't stand a chance. Without Tyson, you would win."

Chris smiled. "I'm better than him." He felt his heart warm as Trish smiled back at him. "Yeah ... I ... I'm better than him."