Title: By My Side

Author: Crimson Coin

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any mentioned wrestlers. They are merely used/borrowed for the purpose of this fictional story.

Rating: PG 13 – R, depending on the chapter

Summery: Continuing from Unstoppable and Endless Love. Will friends and love still flourish?

Timeline: October 2004 – present

November 1, 2004

Trish Stratus turned her back on the ring and on her one time friend. A fire in her eye she walked behind the curtain, turning her attention to the woman at her side. "Thanks for coming out there."

"Not a problem." Gail Kim answered. "Anyway, I know you coulda handled yourself, if she only fought fair."

Trish nodded as the other woman offered a smile and then walked off. Releasing a sigh, the little blonde walked down those stairs and then looked down the arena corridor. Her eyes fell on his form and he was walking with Maven and Randy Orton. "Chris," she breathed more to herself than anyone else and her eyes softened at the sight.

A smile stretched across Chris's face and he quickened his pace, slowing only the moment he was in front of her. "Hey, hun." He greeted, his eyes searching her face as if rememorizing her every feature. "It's been a whole week since I've seen you. Been avoiding me, huh?"

"You got it, Buddy." She answered with a little smirk. "I thought you told me to. Last week, remember."

"Well, yeah." He responded. "But I never thought you actually would."

She chuckled, placing a hand on his chest and she turned her head, noting that Maven was staring at her. She cocked a brow. "What?"

Maven startled at her snap and the glare in her eyes was enough to make him shiver. "I ... well, Chris ... can ... can I talk to you?"

"What is it?" Chris asked, his one hand resting gently on Trish's hip and he looked towards his tag team partner for the evening. "Why you got that look on your face?"

Trish's eyes narrowed a moment, almost threatening before she looked back up at Chris, her gaze immediately softening. "Babe?"

"Yeah," Jericho answered, turning his attention to the woman in front of him and he cocked his head, eyeing her curiously.

"Be careful, ok?" she said, quietly, ignoring the staring from Chris's tag team partner. "You know what Dave is like and I don't want you too banged up, ok?"

"Ok."

"Promise me," she said, eyeing him with an all out knowing. "Promise me you'll try to be ok."

Chris smiled his quirky grin and raised to fingers. "Scouts honor. Now go wait in my locker room. If Hunter is here, I don't want him to find you."

Trish nodded. "Ok," and she leaned up, placing a soft peck on his mouth before walking down the hall, hitching her belt up a little higher on her shoulder.

Chris's grin brightened as he watched the woman walk further down the corridor, his eyes dilated with pleasure at the sight of her soft bouncing form.

"Uh ..." Maven averted his eyes from Trish to the man at his side. "When did you two get back together?"

"We're not together."

Maven's brow rose. "Coulda fooled me." He stood in front of Chris. "You sure you know what you're doing, man. I mean, did you see what she did to Lita out there."

Jericho's smile broadened. "That's my girl."

Maven could do nothing but watch dumbfounded as his partner walked to the curtain, readying himself for a match.

Jericho couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he walked behind the curtain, the match finally complete.

"Great job out there, Chris."

"You too, Randy," Jericho answered, reaching out to pat the younger man on the shoulder. "Remember, one week at a time."

Randy nodded. "Yeah. But what about Edge?"

"You let Benoit take care of Edge." Chris responded. "And if he needs me, I'm there for him. Edge and I have unfinished business anyway. You just worry about Evolution. I've got your back."

"Thanks, man." Randy said with a grin and then walked off.

Chris continued down the corridor to his locker room. Once seeing the door, a sly smile spread across his face and he walked slower, tip-toeing the rest of the way to the door. He wanted to scare her.

Pushing open the door, he poked his head inside. His brow furrowed.

Trish hadn't noticed him, her head bowed as her eyes focused on her right hand. She winced, wrapping the ice pack more tightly around her hand and she held it gently in place. Removing the ice pack, she looked at her hand, her head cocked to inspect it more carefully. Wincing, she rotated her wrist and then reapplied the ice.

"Honey?"

Trish jumped, dropping the ice as she placed her hands in her lap, her left covering her right as she looked to the door. A smile plastered itself across her face. "Chris? You ... you're done already?"

"Yeah," he answered, walking further into the room and letting the door swing closed behind him. He watched her curiously. "You weren't watching?"

"Uhm ... no." Trish stammered, her eyes wavering from his. "I ... I didn't turn on the TV. I ... I was ... uhm ..."

He approached her, kneeling at her feet as he looked up into her face. He didn't want to hear her tripping through a lie. His eyes abandoned hers as he looked down into her lap and at her hand. He reached out.

"Don't," Trish snapped, pulling her hands against her chest.

His eyes locked heatedly on hers and he reached out again, taking her right hand in his. Convinced she wouldn't fight, he looked down at her hand. Stroking his fingers over the cold hand, he cradled it preciously in his. "What is it?"

"It's nothing." She responded quickly. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Trish." He snarled. "Just don't fucking lie to me. We're not going back to that."

Trish yanked her hand from his, her eyes blazing with emotion. "I'm not lying. It's really nothing."

Glancing up at her, he withheld his anger. "Are you just telling me that so I don't worry or is that what you're telling yourself cuz you're scared of something?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Don't push me away, Trish." He nearly growled, reaching out again to take her right hand with his and he looked down at it. "I watched you on the mic out there today and your hand looked swollen. So are you gonna talk to me or am I going to have to drag you to the trainers and beat the shit outta them till they tell me."

Trish sighed, her head bowed though she didn't respond.

"Tell me, Baby." He pleaded, his voice begging her and laced with worry. "Don't leave me in the dark cuz I'm gonna worry about this forever and it gets worse with each second. Please, just tell me."

She sniffled, bowing her head even further. "It's ... it's the same hand."

"I noticed," Chris coaxed, stroking her hand slowly. "This is the one you broke this summer. Baby, tell me, please. I'm dying over here."

Trish reached up with her free hand, wiping at her nose and then sniffing she straightened, her eyes on his and she wasn't afraid to show the tears.

"Oh Honey," he cooed, reaching up with one hand to touch her cheek, gathering the moisture from her tears before clasping her hand again. "Tell me."

"I ... I don't know what's wrong with it?" She forced out. "I ..." she swallowed hard. "I can't feel my hand. It ... it's cold and numb and sometimes ... it ... it hurts."

"Maybe it didn't heal right." Chris responded, turning his attention to that hand, caressing it with his hands. "Did you go back to the doctor?"

Trish shook her head.

"Why not, Sweetie?" He ducked a bit to meet her eyes. "We should take you to the doctor now. This isn't right, your hand being numb and like that."

But Trish viciously shook her head. "No, Chris. Don't. I ... I'm scared. I ... I can't go to the doctor's. I ... I have the belt and I have so much I'm doing and Lita and you and I ..."

"Ok, shh," he hushed, moving onto the couch to sit next to her. "Come here." He said and she didn't hesitate to crawl into his lap and cuddle into his chest. She snuggled further into him when his arm draped around her and she held her wounded hand against her chest.

"I'm so scared, Chris." She whispered. "Something's wrong."

"I know, Honey." He said softly, hugging her tighter. "And it'll be ok. You don't have to go to the doctor until you're ready. But promise me that the moment you are, you'll tell me and we'll go, ok?"

Trish nodded, burying her face into his chest. "I know what this is. That if it healed wrong and they ... they'll have to rebreak my hand. I ... I don't know if I can handle that."

"You can." He said, strongly. "You can because you're the bravest person I know and you're strong and you're a fighter and everything will be fine." He tightened his hug for a moment and then quickly pushed her back. "Oh God, Baby, I'm sorry. I'm all sweaty from my match."

"No, it's ok, Chris." She said, sitting back on his lap as she wiped the tears from her eyes and then cracked a smile for him. "I didn't mind. I ..." her brow furrowed and she reached out, placing a hand on his reddened chest. "Oh my God, what ... what happened?"

"It's nothing." He calmed. "Just Flair's chops are kinda harsh. But I had it coming. I was choppin him too."

"I didn't even ask," she said, worried as her eyes scanned his body. "Are you ok? How was the match? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he answered with a chuckle. "Don't worry so much. It was no different than any other match. I took a beating but I'm fine."

Trish sighed, her eyes scanning his chest and then she resituated herself in his lap, her legs to either side so she could scooch closer to him. Her hands pressed into his pecks and then she trailed them down his abs to his sides, rubbing at the area just above his tights.

"Hey," he chuckled. "Don't touch my pudge."

She managed a smile for him, gripping his little love handles and then leaning down, pressing her cheek to his chest with her hug. "I like your pudge."

Jericho shook his head. "No matter what I do, I can't get rid of it. My six pack can have a six pack and I'll still have pudgy sides."

Trish laughed, snuggling into him, nuzzling his chest before pushing up to look in his eyes. "I didn't know six packs can have six packs."

Jericho nodded. "Damn right they can. Like Renee Dupree. Remember when his abs went from his waist up to his chin. Or like Dave ... or Orton before he lost some of that muscle mass."

"Yeah," Trish agreed. "I'm glad that Randy lost that muscle. I think he looked so hard. He looks much better now." When Jericho's face fell, she reached up, cupping his cheek with her hand. "Nothing against you, Baby."

Chris ducked his head, his eyes focusing on his lap.

"Sweetie," Trish cooed, reaching out to touch his face with both hands and she tilted his gaze up. "Sweetie, I was only saying. That's all."

"Why did you and Randy break up?"

"I don't know." Trish answered truthfully. "To be honest. He just said that we shouldn't see each other. That he knew that he could never have my heart and that I was meant for someone else and that he wanted me to be happy. And he knew he wasn't that man."

"It was mutual?"

She nodded. "We just didn't work on that level and he's been wonderful to me and still wants me to be his friend. I do love him dearly but ... but not like that. "Here, come here." She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

He hugged her back, letting his grip loosen as she sat back on his thighs. Smiling for her, he rested his hands on her hips. "So, you checked out your auction recently?"

Trish scowled. "Stupid thing. I can't believe Bischoff made me sign that shirt. Nidia threw orange soda on it. And it was torn. I don't see how that's gonna get any money."

His smile quirked at one side of his mouth. "It pulled in $898 and change."

Trish's eyes widened. "It what?"

Chris nodded. "Yup. And it just goes to prove how crazy your stalker fans are."

"Hey," she defended. "My fans aren't stalkers." She smiled. "They're just more willing to pour out hundreds of dollars for me."

"Are you suggesting that my Jericho-holics wouldn't pour that much out for me?" he quipped back. "Because I'll have you know, there are many women out there still drooling over this sexy beast."

"Mmm," Trish hummed, seductively, running her hands down his chest then around his sides. "They better not be."

"Oh, they are." Jericho shot back. "And they would spend hundreds on me too. I mean like one of my wet shirts."

"But you're always shirtless."

"Fine then ..." He bit his lip, thinking quickly. "That towel that I wore two years ago when the Dudley's stole my clothes. You remember that ... and that damn Spike Dudley took my towel and left me and Christian ... Christian there naked."

She noticed his stammer over his one time best friend's name, but opted to move the conversation forward. "Yes, I do. I still don't think that towel would get as much as my shirt."

"I was naked under that towel, I'll have you know."

Trish bowed her head. "You wanted to hurt me. A few weeks later when I rejected you and you wanted to slam me through that table. I remember being so afraid of you in that match because you had this look in your eye and ..." she sighed.

"I couldn't."

She looked up at him, her head cocked. "What?"

"I couldn't do it," he admitted with a raised brow, his eyes downcast. "I was so angry that you said no. Not that I blamed you but I am a sexy beast and I ... I didn't completely understand. But that Vitamin Wee thing really hurt and I was so ... so mad." He released a heavy breath. "And I ... I know I got you with that lariat. And I was going to put you in a powerbomb but I ... I couldn't and I hesitated and Booker got me from behind. But God, I ... I don't think I really coulda done it."

"Do you mean that?"

"Oh yeah," he sighed with a nod, his eyes meeting hers and he gently ran his hands around her side to her back, caressing her softly. "God, I can be such an idiot."

Trish bowed her head. "Well ... I'm not all that innocent. Calling you Vitamin Wee like that."

Chris offered a small smile. "Yeah, that didn't do too much for me. Especially considering I'm so small anyway. Hence you know, the anger. I mean if I knew I was big then I coulda just dismissed it but ..."

"You're not small."

He laughed. "Yeah, you say that now. You've seen me, Sweetheart." Then his brow furrowed, his eyes saddening. "Was Randy bigger than me?"

"Chris," she sighed.

"No, answer me." He requested, his eyes locking on hers. "Was he?"

"Chris, that doesn't matter."

"He was, wasn't he." Jericho continued. "He is bigger than me. Damn it, everyone is bigger than me. I can't cu ..."

Trish placed her fingers over his mouth, silencing him. "Shut up, Chris. You want the truth. You want the dead honest truth. Yes, Randy is bigger than you. Yes, I've been with other men who are bigger than you. Yes, you're not as big as a lot of men in the federation. But ..." she raised her brow, brushing the hair from his face at his hurt look. "But you're not small. You're not, got that Jericho."

Jericho couldn't respond, shocked by her honest words.

"You're not small," she said, seriously, her voice dropped in tone. "You're not. You're average, Chris. That's it. You're just average. And I'm ok with that. Cuz that doesn't matter to me. If I wanted huge, I'd be riding Edge every other night."

His eyes fired at the mention of that man.

"But I don't." Trish calmed, brushing her fingers along his face and through his hair. "I don't care about size. I care about the man. I care about you, not the size of your ..." she trailed off, not wanting to say the word and she offered him a small smile. "Come here." She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him close.

Chris hugged her back, still saddened by her words. "So what you're saying is that I'm still the smallest guy in the locker room."

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I give up." Closing her eyes a moment, she regained her patience and looked at the man again. Cupping his face in both her hands, she leaned forward, her nose almost touching his as she gazed deeply into his eyes. "I wouldn't change a damn thing about you, Jericho."

He gave her a shaky nod, unable to look away.

"So is there anything else I need to convince you of?"

Jericho swallowed hard. "I ..." he licked his lips then offered a simple smile. "I just want to tell you that I saw that photo you did for American Curves. And that is the luckiest man alive."

Trish laughed, her head tilting back slightly as her chest shook with that laughter. And she playfully swatted at his chest

Chris couldn't help but laugh with her and he grabbed her wrist as she slapped him, holding her hand preciously in his. "Trish?"

"Mmm."

"Humor me," Chris began. "But you're ok with me being ..."

"Don't you dare say 'small', Chris Jericho," Trish threatened. "You say 'small' and I'll hurt you. I swear it."

Jericho sucked his lips into his mouth then batted shy lashes at her. "Length-ily challenged."

"Jericho," she smacked him on the chest. "I'll ... freaking ... hurt you." She gave him a few more slaps and then sighed, dropping her hands. She shook her head. "What do I have to do to convince you? I'm gonna be twenty-nine in a month, Chris. I don't care about a man's dick size anymore. I want him to be able to do something for me physically AND emotionally and it's true about caring about character and a sense of humor. Ok? I don't care about that anymore. As long as you know what you're doing, that's what matters. Jeez."

Smiling, Chris squeezed her waist with his hands. "Thanks."

"Good," she responded, pushing out of his lap and standing. "Now get showered. I've got energy and I'm hungry. So you're taking me out for dinner."

A single brow rose and he laughed, pushing to his feet. "Well, I guess I can't really argue with that."

"That's right." She responded, crossing her arms over her chest. "So get showered. I don't want you stinking out the restaurant."

"Ok," he answered, walking to her and taking that right hand in his. Holding it gently, he smiled. "Give me fifteen minutes?"

"You got it."

Chris felt his heart melt at her smile and he squeezed her hand, carefully of course because he didn't want to hurt her.

When he would pull away, she didn't let him. Instead, she tightened her hold on his hand and turned him back to her. He flashed her a confused look and she only returned his look with a seductive look of her own.

"What's wrong?" he asked, legitimately concerned.

"Nothing," she responded with a sexy twinge and she reached out, snaking her hand around the back of his neck. "Come here, first, you."

Chris's smile beamed as the woman pulled him closer, her lips parting and she captured his mouth. He shivered as her lips held his, her body surging against his and he groaned as she pressed her hot tongue against his lips.

Trish sighed as he parted his lips, allowing her entry into his mouth. Her tongue touched and tangled with his and Chris tilted his head a little more to get closer access. His hands ran around her back, sliding up her shirt then down in a slow caress.

A little moan rumbled in her throat as their tongues twined and her knees locked. She'd never felt such passion, such sweetness in a kiss. How could her body fill with such electricity, such fire with only a kiss?

Chris wrapped his tongue around hers, slowing the kiss as he pulled back from her, his eyes closed as he breathed heavily onto her luscious mouth. Licking his lips, he did his best to control his breath. "Wow." He sighed.

"Yeah," she agreed, just as breathy and she trailed her hand down his chest to his abs, gripping the top of his tights for a moment. "I ... I should go get cleaned up."

Chris nodded, releasing her and letting his eyes flutter open as she left the room. Once gone, he sighed. "Damn." And he licked his lips, her wonderful taste still lingering on his lips.

(I like reviews. And don't worry, things are gonna get mixed up next chapter. So review me ... or else you know what I'm gonna do. MUAHAHAHAHA!)