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
January 10, 2005
Rhyno clenched his teeth, adjusting his boots, tying them tightly. He didn't know if he'd have a match or not. But he'd had nothing but bad luck in that ring as of late. He clenched his teeth, willing his anger to subside. He had every reason to be angry, and yet ... he shouldn't.
"Rhyno?"
He barely glanced to the door at the call of his name. He only looked long enough to see the flash of red and the slender figure of a woman before he turned his attention back to his boots and then knee pads.
"Rhyno, I ... I have to tell you something."
Rhyno didn't really respond, expecting her to tell him of some liaison with a certain other wrestler. He knew he'd never be enough for her. He knew she would never really care for him. There were too many other men around. Men with better bodies and who weren't so gruff and rough. Men who were romantic and sensitive.
"Rhyno?"
He indifferently lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting hers coolly.
Christy Hemme shifted uncomfortably under his cold eyes, playing with her fingers. "I ... I wanted to tell you that Bischoff has me booked tonight in a Lingerie Pillow fight against Maria. And I ... I know that ... I just wanted to tell you first before I had to go out there."
"You do whatever you like, Christy. I don't matter."
"Why do you say that? Of course you matter."
He stood then, turning from her to sort through her bag, though there really wasn't much to sort. "I didn't see you jumping to get on my shoulders this past weekend at the hotel's pool."
"Oh my God, Honey," she walked up to him, placing a hand on his back. "Is that why you've been like this?"
He shrugged away from her.
"Nuh uh," she said, spinning him roughly to look in his eyes. "No, you listen to me."
Rhyno didn't look away. He pressed his lips tightly together, his eyes searching hers.
"Sweetheart," she cooed at him, her hands gently caressing his arms then down to entwine their fingers. "I want you to listen to me. That ... that chicken fight and that goofing off was just us goofing off for the cameras. And we were just having a good time. I know you were playing pool with Tajiri and you were gonna come out there and the moment you did, I would have been at your side, dragging you into that swimming pool."
Rhyno chuckled, unable to help himself from picturing the little redhead, shoving him into the water, giggling at him as he surfaced, sputtering water from his lips.
"You see," she coaxed him then traced her hands up his arms and over his test, teasing him slightly by gnawing on her lower lip, her eyes flashing seductively. "And we certainly had our own bit of fun. The hotel room ... the shower ... the arena corridor."
He blushed.
Christy laughed, teasingly running a finger down his cheek. "That's my man. Now why don't I ..." she eased the straps of his one piece down and pushed the costume to his hips. "Help loosen you up ..." She slipped her hands under the waist of his costume, tickling her hands down. "Before your match."
"My ... my match?"
"Uh huh," she continued to tease him. "You have a match against Edge to qualify for the Royal Rumble. Whether you win or lose, that won't matter. I want you in our hotel room tonight too. But right now you have a match to be ready for. I want to help ... stretch ... you out. And you can help me ... stretch ... too."
Rhyno growled, his eyes blazing with lust as he wrapped his arms around the slender women and kissed her passionately.
Trish sat alone in her locker room, her body sagged back against the couch, her eyes closed. Her heart was still racing after last night. After the horrifying elimination chamber. After the love of her life bled ... and bled and bled.
She sighed, her eyes opening to focus on her women's title belt. Was that even worth it anymore? Was the World Title worth all the pain and suffering that Chris endured?"
"Trishy?"
She gasped, her eyes flying to the door at the voice. Though she knew who it was, he still frightened her. "Chris, you scared me."
His eyes were still hazed from the previous day, from that elimination chamber. His forehead taped and bandaged, his body obviously sore. Jericho walked to her, kneeling down in front of her to take her hands in his. "You ok, Sweetie?"
She shook her head, her eyes downturned to focus on their entwining fingers. "I just ... as much as Lita and I are at ends ... I ... I never wanted to see her hurt. And I think back to last night and wonder if there was something else I could have done but I ... I realize that I couldn't. And then I think of you in that chamber and all the blood."
Chris hooked a finger under her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his. "I realize that I didn't hold to my promise."
Trish gasped as he leaned forward, taking her lips gently with his. The kiss was soft and sweet.
Pulling back, he took her lower lip with him for only a moment before letting it slide back against her teeth. He smiled willingly, raking the blonde hair from his eyes and away from his bandage. "I couldn't kiss you after my match. So I kiss you now. I'm ok, Sweetheart. I'm still sore and my head hurts and I'm woozy and probably concussed. But I'm really ok."
"And your arm?"
Chris glanced down at his bandaged forearm and he protectively placed his opposite hand over the injury then rubbed up to his elbow. He was wrapped pretty snuggly. "My arm ... on the other hand ... hurts like hell."
A sad frown spread across Trish's face. "Do you really have to go out there? To wrestle in that match tonight?"
"It won't be a difficult match," Chris pacified her, brushing the tips of his fingers across her cheek. "It's only Christian and Tomko."
Trish nodded, worry in her eyes. "Both of which can hurt you if they want to. They'll work your arm. And you're bruised. You're sore."
He chuckled, his eyes bright despite the opposite pain. "I'm the walking wounded."
"My heart is going to stop during your match."
"Then don't watch," he suggested with a smile.
She offered him an incredulous look and she shook her head. "How can you say that? And how can you act so lightly about this? You're hurt, Chris. When will you stop? When will you just say ... no."
"I will not leave Benoit in there alone. I will not feed him to the wolves. I'll be even more bruised and quite possibly hurt even worse ... but I can't let him do this alone."
Trish licked her lips, her eyes on the clock a moment before returning to his eyes. "You should get to the curtain then."
He nodded slowly, his ice blue eyes locked on hers. "Don't be afraid. I'll be alright. Do ... do you have a match?"
"I don't know," she answered with a shrug. "I want you to meet me back at the hotel. We have a suite tonight and I ... I want to take care of you. I know you're going to be hurting and I want to try to ... to take away that pain."
He smiled sweetly at her, his eyes sparkling with the affection he held for this woman. "I'll see you there, then." He cupped her cheek, leaning towards her to take her lips in a long, tender kiss. Reluctantly, he released her mouth and he stood, walking to the door.
Chris Jericho clenched his teeth, his wince ever present on his face as he stumbled down the corridor of his hotel. He wasn't sure if Trish was back yet but he didn't care. He didn't even take the time to shower. He had to get out of there. He never knew pain existed like the pain he felt that very moment.
Helplessly dragging his duffel bag behind him, he eventually reached his hotel room and sliding the keycard – with much difficulty – he pushed inside.
The room was dark, the lights dimmed low and as he inhaled, he gathered the faint scent of lavender and lilacs. She must be here. Maybe having a bath.
Hissing in pain, he dropped the strap to his bag to the floor and then placed a protective hand on his elbow. The pain was almost unbearable. He just wanted to roll over and go to bed, if he could sleep through all this pain. "Trish?"
"In here, Sweetie," she answered. "The bathroom. Can you come here a minute?"
Chris didn't respond but slowly walked to the bathroom and opened the door. The wince fell from his face as his eyes sought her. Her hair was soft and flowing, her body hugged by a tight silken robe that hung low to the floor. The large deep tub was filled, the steam rising slowly and he could smell the scents she placed into the hot water.
"I ran the tub for you. I wanted to help. I can bathe your pain. Relax your muscles ... your mind."
His eyes focused intently, darkening as he licked his lips. Suddenly his pain was the last thought in his mind. All he wanted was to grab this woman and make sweet passionate love to her until he passed out from exhaustion. But it would probably pull every muscle in his body to do so.
"Will you let me?"
He swallowed hard and when he spoke, his voice was deep and laced with lust. "Will you join me?"
She smiled beautifully at him, her eyes scanning his body. "Of course. If that's what you want."
"Help me with these clothes," he said, deeply, "and these bandages and ... But I ... I don't know how much I can ..."
"Shh," she silenced him with an even sweeter smile and she stepped up to him, her eyes on his face as she pet his lips with the tips of her fingers. "This night is about you. I'll do all the work."
He smiled, winningly, an almost goofy grin spreading across his face. "Well I can still do some of the work."
She chuckled, teasingly running her fingers through his hair then down the side of his face. "Ok. But tonight isn't about me. I want this to be about you."
"Trish," he said sternly, his eyes on hers. "This doesn't have anything to do with that ..."
"Just because I want to take care of you doesn't mean I'm trying to be subservient." She snapped at him. "I love you, Chris. And you're in pain. And I know that a hot bath, a nice massage and just ... anything I can do to help ease your pain."
Chris sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry, Trish. I love you too. I just ... I don't want you to ever do anything for me because you feel you have to or ..."
"I know," she breathed onto his lips, her warm moist breath causing him to shiver. "Just let me love you tonight. Let me treat you to a dream."
"You are my dream," he sighed, his lips closing the final distance between them.
Dave Batista groaned, pushing out of his bed. He was furious after that heinous match earlier that evening. And not only did he want to be alone, he didn't want to be disturbed. He was confused and angry and frankly, whoever it was that was knocking on his door this late ... would certainly have to face his wrath.
He yanked the door open, his gaze surprised and instantly softening.
Lilian Garcia ducked her head, nervously sucking her lower lip into her mouth.
"Lilian," he said curtly, his voice unwavering despite his surprise to see her. "What are you doing here?"
"I ... I want to talk, Dave." She looked up at him then, her eyes glazed and tearfilled. "Can ... can we talk?"
Dave stepped aside, allowing her to enter his hotel room.
(Considering the low number of reviews, I may consider to end this fic far sooner than expected. I was thinking of writing till Wrestlemania, but if I do not feel enough people are reading, I may end it as soon as the Rumble. If you want me to finish what I had planned, please review me and let me know you're still reading and want more.)