A/N: Sorry, once again, for that last cliffhanger. Hopefully this chapter won't be as frustrating LOL. By the way, Chapter 12 is narrated in the point of view of Chris Benoit this time. Hope you like it! And continue to show the love, y'all, I've always enjoyed reading your reviews! Looking forward to doing so again!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, everyone!

Note: I just want to remind everybody that this story is NOT a canon, meaning it isn't based on the actual events on Raw, and this story may contain some fictitious matches, like the one following.

Chapter 12: Go For It (Chris Benoit's POV)

I want it.

Sure, I was happy for Randy when he won it from me at Summerslam and enjoyed the spotlight he so deserved, but deep inside me lay an irrepressible hunger for it. I just had to get it back, and now's my chance. No way am I going to blow it. Besides, I ought to do these fans a favor and give them thirty less minutes of Triple H on Raw.

That World Heavyweight Championship…is mine.

My thoughts are interrupted by someone calling my name from the open doorway of the men's locker room, one certain Stacy Keibler. "Hey, Chris, can I talk to you outside for a sec?"

I put down my bottle of Gatorade and followed her out the door. "What's it about? I'm kind of busy right now, in case you haven't noticed."

"I asked Bischoff for the rest of the night off and he allowed it, so I'm not gonna be here tonight."

And miss out on some face time on live TV? "Why'd you do that?"

"Well, I'm going with Li and Shane to McDonald's for some burgers, and then I'm gonna go visit Randy in the hospital."

God, that's like the thousandth time she's done that now. "Come on, Stace, again? Just write him a 'get well' card or something. This is Monday Night Raw that you're missing!"

Her expression seemed both pained and desperate. "You don't understand, Chris, I…I…"

I merely cocked my head to the side and raised an eyebrow while waiting for her to finish her sentence. Damn it, miss, you're wasting my precious time here! I have the most important event of my life to get ready for! I need to train, not play shrink to some crazy woman like you!

"I love Randy!"

She WHAT? I thought he hated her? I thought she hated him? Stacy…loves…Randy…Orton? Ah, cripes, that doesn't sound right. "Did you just say…what I heard you say?"

Stacy nodded slowly. Then she started on a loooong explanation, rambling on and on really fast and fitting everything into one sentence. "Yes, I do love Randy and I have to be there for him at the hospital and wait for him to wake up so I can tell him how I truly feel about him because I am butt-crazy head-over-heels beyond-all-explanation in love with Randall Keith Orton."

Okay, I need about ten minutes to process that in my brain. "Well, I don't know what to say, Stace. Uh…go for it, I guess."

For a moment, she stood there with her lower lip trembling, then all of a sudden she started hugging me to bits, sobbing into my shoulder. I kinda felt sorry for the poor kid. "God, Chris, do you think he'll be alright?"

"I'm sure he'll be just fine, Stace."

"Okay," she sniffled. "I better get going."

Thank god.

I reentered the locker room to find just Shelton Benjamin and a few other guys inside. Most of them were lifting weights, taping their wrists and readying themselves for whatever matches they had been booked in. Shelton, on the other hand, was dressed casually in a black shirt and torn jeans, seated on a chair with his feet up on the dresser and nonchalantly reading a magazine.

"Hey, Shelton, don't you have a match to get ready for?"

He turned the page while replying, not taking his eyes off the magazine. "Ain't got one tonight, man. I had a match against Tomko scheduled, but he's in the clinic right now, and the doc said he won't be able to wrestle. I hear some chick kicked him in the 'nads or something earlier tonight."

"Can't really say I feel sorry for the guy," I said, shrugging.

"Me neither. He could get castrated, for all I care."

I started my stretching exercises while continuing the conversation. "Any idea who kicked him?"

"He won't say. Then again, it's not like he'd wanna 'fess up to the fact that he got beat up by a girl. Although I heard him mumbling as he was helped to the clinic that he planned to 'get his hands on Stacy Keibler,' whatever that means."

Hmm, I sense trouble. I better keep my eye on that Tomko.

"Speaking o' women, what's up with you and Lilian Garcia?"

The locker room became quiet all of a sudden. I paused and glanced around, noticing that every guy there was looking at me for an answer. It was freaking scary, if you ask me. "You know what?"

"Yeah?"

"My championship match is up next. Later, guys," I said before getting the hell out of there.

The lights dim. The crowd looks towards the ramp. The music starts blaring on the loudspeakers. "It's time to play the game…" And then it appears.

It's enormous.

It's colossal.

It's larger than life.

It's Triple H's nose.

And it won't look the same way again after it's been subject to my Crippler Crossface. You're going down, Trips! Better kiss that championship belt goodbye!

We stare each other down in the middle of the ring. Hunter is taller than me by a few inches, so I found myself glaring up at him and his humongous schnoz. Hmm, I wonder if I could park my car in there. Or maybe it's inhabited by an entire family of grizzly bears…

"You actually think you can take my title away from me, little man?"

I gave him a hard kick to the midsection. "I don't think, I know."

Thus began the battle of the century: violent, bloody, horrifying, amazing, spectacular. I vowed to make this match different from the rest. I wanted to really wow the audience tonight; after all, this is the match that would put me back in the spotlight.

Now how did I get in this position? Before I knew it, Triple H had dealt me a low blow (curse you Ric Flair, for distracting the ref), and set me up for one of those goddamn Pedigrees. I stared down and waited for the end to come.

And did it ever.

He jumped and mercilessly drove my face right into the mat. Ouch. I was seeing stars now. I couldn't move a muscle. Trips crawled over and hooked my leg for the three-count…

One!

Still can't move. God, I can't even open my eyes! Am I going to…lose?

Two!

The referee's hand was coming down, when I heard a familiar female voice yell for me to "Get up, Chris!"

"…Lilian?"

All of a sudden I gained the energy to kick out. The crowd was cheering, and as I looked towards ringside, there she was, smiling…at me. "Go for it," she mouthed.

Go for it. You bet I will!

And I'm doing it for you, Lilian.

I gave Trips some hard chops before throwing him into the ropes and then suplexing him. Thrice, of course. Would you ever expect less out of Chris Benoit?

Here comes suplex number one. "I…"

Now for the second suplex. "…love…"

Suplex number three. "…you…"

Ah hell, one more. "…Lilian!"

I climbed up to the top turnbuckle and smiled right at her. This is it. This is my one defining moment. I take a leap of faith…

…and get acquainted with the mat once again. To my dismay, the bastard had rolled out of the way at the last millisecond. "You pathetic, lovesick fool," he sneered as I lay face down on the mat, "you've gone all weak!"

Rolling over, I saw Triple H crouching down and laughing right in my face. I poked him in the eye. "Oh, have I?"

Now's the time: as quickly as I could, I pulled him down onto the mat and locked on the Crippler Crossface.

"Who's weak now?"

I heard only a heavily muffled reply.

"Tap out!"

He shook his head…well, tried to.

"Tap!"

His right hand was only a few inches away from the mat…

"TAP!!!"

He did. Triple H tapped out. The bell rang, and my theme song started playing. Then I heard her voice: "The winner and new World Heavyweight Champion, Chris Benoit!"

I won? I won! I did it!!

…And it's all thanks to her.

A shower of congratulations from all the guys greeted me as I went backstage. I got high-fives, handshakes and hugs, and it felt great, knowing I was numero uno once again. It was a real celebration in the men's locker room.

All of a sudden, everyone fell silent. They were all now looking towards the doorway, and I found out why.

In the open doorway stood Lilian Garcia herself.

She walked towards me with that smile on her face. "Congratulations, Chris, I knew you could do it."

"Thanks, Lilian."

We were now only centimeters apart. "Hey, how do you plan to celebrate your victory?"

"Have a few drinks, I guess." I stared at the floor, running a hand through my rumpled hair.

"With who?"

My gaze redirected from the floor to Lilian. Go for it, I thought to myself, and I grinned at her. "With you."

The boys broke into cheers, catcalls and applause as I took her in my arms and locked lips with her, something I've wanted to do for so long now.

I got the gold and I got the girl. Man, life is good!

"So," I breathed, after we broke off the kiss. "How about those drinks?"

"Well, I was thinking we could just go back to my place and have a little celebration of our own," she whispered back, and winked at me.

I had an arm around her as we made our way out the door. "If you'll all excuse me," I said to the guys, "we have somewhere extremelyimportant to be at right now."

Shelton stepped forward. "Well, man, all we can say is…"

Everybody in the room joined him and yelled in perfect unison: "Go for it!"