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 14, 2004

Survivor Series

Chris Jericho raced down the arena corridor, desperately trying to reach the curtain. He wanted to run out there. The moment he saw Lita with that chair and then the blood. His tears flowed at the sight of blood and he had to get there as soon as possible. As he approached, he could see the referees and other large men escorting a still fighting Lita the opposite way down the arena.

He resisted the urge to charge down that hallway after the fiery redhead. No, he couldn't do that. Trish. His Trish. He had to see her. He had to find her and help her. He could hear the crowd booing.

What tore at his heart was her tears. He could see true tears in her eyes and the blood and he could feel his heart ache at the sight. He didn't even know what to do. He just wanted to help her.

His eyes widened as she stumbled behind the curtain, shrugging away the referees who constantly tried to help her. "Don't touch me," she sneered, brushing their hands away and she wobbled slightly when they let her go.

"Baby," Chris cooed, racing to her.

Trish looked up at the sound of his voice and immediately, the tears burst from her eyes, her face scrunched in pain as her shoulders collapsed and sagged.

"Trish," he sighed, his eyes sorrowed as they locked on her and he approached her, stopping just in front of her. When her head bowed, he reached out and gently touched her cheek with his hand. "Trishy, Baby."

Her head ducked again as the tears fell from her eyes and she whimpered when Chris took her in his arms and just held her.

"Shhh," he hushed, brushing his hand over her hair as he rocked her slightly.

"Jericho," one of the trainers interrupted. "We really need to take her to get checked out. Come on, let's go, Trish."

She shook her head, burying her face further into his chest.

The trainer reached out, his hand touching her arm.

Trish flinched at the touch and Jericho's eyes fumed, his booming voice ringing out and filled with venom. "You'd better get your hands off of her or I swear to God, you'll regret it."

The trainer quickly retracted his hand, his eyes wide as he looked to the referees at his side. He opened his mouth to speak again however Chris's eyes narrowed and the trainer thought better of it and snapped his mouth closed.

"Sweetie," he cooed softly, his hands brushing through her hair, petting her as he whispered sweet hushes in her ear. He rocked her gently, his hands beautifully tender in his touch.

Trish shivered and shuddered at his wordless murmurs and she slid her arms around his waist, holding him tighter. She pressed her forehead into his chest, her tiny body still shaking with sobs.

Chris whispered and purred, leaning down and tilting his head so his lips pressed to her ear. Continuing to breathe gently into her ear, he kissed her there once then again. Cupping her face with his hands, he eased her back to look in her eyes a moment. He breathed a heavy sigh before leaning forward to trail a series of kisses along her brow.

Trish scrunched up her nose, shaking her head as she pressed her hands into his pecks, pushing him back slightly. "Don't kiss me. I'm ... I'm a bloody ..."

"Shhh," he silenced her, pressing a finger to her lips. "Don't you remember a year ago. And I'm a bloody mess and you still kissed my brow ... and my cut." He smiled softly. "I remember that. I remember the feel of your ... your soft soft lips." His eyes fluttered at the remembrance and his gaze softened as his eyes held hers.

A small smile managed to pull at the corner of Trish's lips. "I ... I remember that. I ... I wanted so badly to kiss you on the mouth but I ... I was so nervous."

Chris nodded as he grabbed her hand, walking slowly down the arena corridor with her. "Yeah. And do you know what this month is, Baby?"

Trish shook her head, sucking her lower lip into her mouth coyly, flirtatiously as she averted her eyes from him.

"Oh come on, Baby," he coaxed smoothly. "Think. It's November and what happened a year ago."

Trish glanced up at him and she couldn't help but giggle at the mischievous glint in his eyes. "I believe around this time last year, I was shoving my tongue down your throat in an alley somewhere."

Chris threw his head back with his hearty laugh as they continued down the corridor. He didn't respond to her but instead lead her to his locker room.

She paused, watching as he walked to his duffel bag and packed his clothes. "Honey? What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

Her eyes widened. "What?" Then she raced further into the room, standing beside him. Her eyes watched as he continued to fold his clothes and a warmth filled her as she noticed the red and white hockey jersey on the bottom of his bag.

"I said, I'm taking you to the hospital."

"But you can't." she quickly injected. "You have a match tonight and ..."

"Fuck the match," he spat with a quick shake of the head. "I don't care about that. I have to get you to a doctor." He turned to her then, his eyes softening as he reached out and touched the side of his finger under her nose. When he pulled it back, there was the slightest bit of blood. "Sweetie, I want to make sure you're ok."

Trish grabbed his hand then, looking up into his face with worried almost paranoid eyes. "Baby, you can't. You can't leave now. You'd leave and leave Randy and Benoit all alone to face Evolution and Ed ... Edg .... Edge ... and ... and Snitsky?"

Chris nodded without hesitation.

"No, you can't do that." She argued. "You can't leave Randy and Benoit alone."

"But ..."

"No buts," she interrupted, reaching up to press her fingers to his lips, silencing him. "No buts. You are not going to leave them alone. You can't. Benoit's your friend and look at everything Randy has done for you and for me. You can't leave them. You have to fight. And I'll go to the hospital on my own and you can come there after the match."

"I don't want to leave you."

"I'll be fine," she said, convincingly as she stroked her hand along his arm. "I'll be just fine. I'm a big girl and it hurts like hell, but I'll be ok."

Reluctant, Chris didn't want to listen. "I'm so worried about you. I can't let you go alone. I don't care about the outcome of the match. I ... I just want to make sure you're ok."

"I won't be alone." She answered. "There ... there is someone I can ask. I'll get to the hospital and I won't be alone. Just do your match and then come, ok?"

Sighing, he nodded. "Fine. But the moment I'm done ... I'm coming for you."

A small smile pulled at her lips. "Ok, but promise me you will do everything you can to win. Fight with everything you can. You have to win, Baby. You have to."

"I will," he pledged then leaned forward, kissing her softly on the forehead. "I'll win for you, Baby."

Chris Jericho staggered down the arena corridor after his match, waving away the trainers and any friends who tried to stop him. "Leave me alone," he demanded of them, never slowing his pace. "I have to get to the hospital."

He winced, wrapping an arm around his waist as his other hand cupped the back of his head. His head spun and he could barely see straight. "Chris?"

The blonde man turned at his name, his eyes focusing on his dear friend. Benoit approached him, stepping close then placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulders. "Look, I know you want to get to Trish."

"Then why are you stopping me."

Benoit tightened his grip on the man's shoulder, his voice deepening in intensity. "Because first of all, you are in no condition to drive and secondly, you're not even in your street clothes."

"You think I care about this shit?"

"Look," Benoit sighed. "Just go to the showers now, quickly rinse off, change and I'll take you, Ok?"

Jericho contemplated that decision for a moment and then gave a quick nod. "Meet me in the parking garage in ten minutes."

Trish Stratus winced as the doctor cupped her face in his large hands, tilting her head one way then the next as he examined her nose. "Ok, Everything appears to be set and in place. Let me just tape it up."

She breathed a slow sigh as he placed a tiny strip across the bridge of her nose. "Thank you," she sighed, her eyes half lidded. She was tired.

The doctor smiled gently, standing straight as he stared down at the woman. "Yes, I would suspect you'd be tired. You did lose some blood and this is traumatic. But at least nothing is too serious."

"I broke my nose." Trish responded with a chuckle. "You don't think that's serious?"

"That's not what I mean." The doctor replied, lightly. "I'm merely saying that your situation could be far worse. The break is only slight and you should be fine in no time. However, though you are an athlete and I've been told that you may still have to compete ..." He handed her a clear plastic mask. "Wear this anytime you'd be doing something physical in the ring. Just to make sure that it's not rebroken."

She took the plastic mask with hesitation. "Oh God, look at this thing."

The doctor chuckled. "If you don't want your nose broken again, that thing is a must."

"Trish!"

Both jumped at the loud call and then the slamming that echoed outside her door. She could hear scuffling and then voices and then his distinct voice screaming again.

"I will damn well make a scene so you better just show me where she is before a start swinging punches."

After a few moments, the door to her room opened and Jericho stumbled inside. "Trish," he sighed as his eyes met hers and he ran quickly to her side, a wince on his face and his arm immediately wrapped around his waist. "Honey?"

"It's nothing," he said quickly, brushing off her concern. "I'm fine. I ... I was so distracted they ... they got the upper hand on me far too often for my liking. I ... I'm ok though."

"Are you sure?" she asked, worried as her hands reached out to touch his face. "Is the doctor still here?" Her eyes abandoned his as she scanned her room for the doctor that was just taking care of her.

Chris was relieved when he noted that doctor was gone. "I'm fine, Baby." He answered softly. "Please don't worry about me. I'm a big boy and a tough man, hard as nails. I am fine. But how did you get here? You didn't take the car we rented and I was so worried. Did you take a cab? Did the ambulance bring you?"

Trish shook her head, her eyes averting from his as she stared at his brow, his cheeks, his mouth. "No, I ... someone brought me. They just stepped out to go get me some coffee. They ..." she chuckled. "The sight of the doctor resetting my nose made him a little squeamish."

"Him?"

Trish gave a slow nod, a tenderness overwhelming her at the slight jealousy marauding through his eyes. "Yeah, him. He should be back in a few minutes."

Chris's eyes narrowed as he eyed the woman cautiously. "Who is he?"

She smiled softly. "Just a friend I made a long time ago. And he was more than willing to help me out."

And as if on cue, that man walked through the door. "Trish? I have your ..." the man trailed off, his gaze falling on that of the young woman and then the man next to her.

Jericho's eyes widened. "You?"

Trish smiled, reaching out to the other man. "Thank you. I could really use that coffee right about now."

John Cena didn't remove his eyes from the other man as he walked slowly, handing out the steaming paper cup to the woman. "Just like you like it. Double cream and a pinch of sugar."

"Thanks so much, Sweetie," Trish cooed, grabbing the hot cup and holding it in her hands. "I have been craving coffee all day."

John offered her a gentle smile, averting his eyes from the other man as he knelt at her feet, his one hand resting on her knees. "You sure you're gonna be ok, now?"

"Positive," she answered, placing her free hand on his and she gave him a tight squeeze. "I've got Chris now. I'm ok. Thanks so much for bringing me here. It means a lot to me."

"Anytime," he answered with a winning smile. "I should get back to Dawn before she rips my head off."

When he stood, Trish cocked her head. "Why would she rip your head off?"

John chuckled, grabbing his jacket from the chair in the corner of the room. "Because I forgot to tell her where I was going and she's probably worried sick about me."

"Well, call her," Trish responded, slapping him playfully on the arm. "I'd be worried sick too."

"I will," John replied then waved as he stepped out the door. "Bye"

Her smile managed to brighten when the door closed and she turned her eyes to Chris. The smile fell from her face at the look of him.

A tiny frown pulled at the corner of his lips, a stinging hurt glistening in his eyes as he watched her, his gaze unwavering.

"What is it?"

"I didn't know you knew John Cena."

Trish nodded. "I became quick friends with him when I was traveling back and forth between Smackdown and RAW. When I was champion and I had to be on both, remember?"

"Yeah."

"I got to know him then." Trish continued. "And he was really sweet. I remember ..." a smile pulled at her lips. "I remember when he first approached me, he was like a little kid seeing Santa Clause at the mall. He just had this look of awe in his eyes and said he remembered watching my debut and watching me wrestle when he was training. He's a really great guy."

"Really."

"Yes," she answered. "He was so nice. And I remember him calling me last summer and talking to me about this girl he had a thing for and just cooing about her. I thought it was so sweet he had a thing for Dawn. I'm glad to see they're still together."

"So John ..."

"Has been nothing but a friend," she said, smiling up at him. "The doctor said I can go home. And I just want to get out of here."

Chris managed a smile.

Trish's smile brightened and she reached out, grabbing his hand and pulling it into her lap. "Yeah, I wanna get outta here. And I ... I just want to get back and slip into a nice hot bath."

A flash of mischief flickered in his eyes and he leaned slightly closer, his head cocking as he blinked slowly. "A nice hot bath?"

Trish smile grew lazy as she reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand. "Yeah. And you're gonna snuggle into bed with a nice book."

"Sounds wonderful," he responded.

Trish pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as she hugged him. "Even looking like this ... you ... you make me feel so beautiful."

"Looking like this?" he asked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She sniffled. "You know with my broken nose."

"Aww, Sweetie," he cooed. "Broken nose nothing. You're still gorgeous."

Trish giggled. "You make me feel so much better. Like nothing is wrong."

Chris chuckled, rubbing his hands along her back and then he eased her back. "Come on, Sweetie," he leaned down, placing a soft gentle kiss on her forehead. "Let's get out of here."

(Well I think it's about time we stirred things up a bit. Heh, look forward to that. Review me, tell me what you want.)