Beneath the Flaws
Rating: R, for language, some sexual content, drug use, etc.
Characters/Pairings: Christian/Trish, Edge/Lita, Jericho/Stacy, Tyson Tomko, others?
Disclaimer: All characters are property of WWE and themselves.
Summary: An injury sends Jay onto a path of self destruction...
Part 1
As
the young woman drove past a row of stores, located on the main rode
of a town she was passing through, her mind drifted away from the
street. She always began to reminisce at the most inopportune times.
It was probably because she didn't want to think about it. It was a
time she hated to revisit, full of enough drama and pain to last a
lifetime... a time in which more tears were shed than she ever though
possible to produce.
One would think that memories of
something that caused that much heartache and suffering - on
everyone's part - would stay buried in the past, where they belonged.
But in fact, she revisited them quiet often; they were a stark
reminder for what she had, and to be thankful that he made it
through the mess alive and well.
Watching the man she loved
more than life itself deteriorating before her eyes was more
frightening than one could ever imagine. It was a horrifying,
terrible experience, and she prayed every day that neither of them,
or their friends for that matter, would have to go through it
again.
One thing was for certain; no matter had much time
passed, they would never be the same, and neither would their
relationship. She still couldn't bear to be away from him for one
night, fearful that one night was all that he would need to be sucked
back in. She had watched him drift through that black hole once
before, watched as his life spiraled out of either of their control.
And she didn't do a damn thing about it... not till it was almost too
late.
Her mind liked to play tricks on her sometimes,
especially late at night. She still had the nightmares, the same ones
that had plagued her since the beginning. There were still nights
when she would awake in a cold sweat, and she would have to press her
fingers to his neck to make sure he still had a pulse, or press her
head to his chest to ensure he was still breathing. She knew that
she'd never have an undisturbed night of sleep again.
The
ordeal had left her traumatized. What probably stung at her heart
worst of all was that she couldn't talk to him about it. He liked to
pretend it never happened before, he told himself that if he could
make himself forget about it, than it never really happened in the
first place. To be honest, she didn't blame him. And even if she
couldn't forget, she respected his decision, and she loved him far
too much to force him to dig up the memories.
So instead, she
would think to herself, sneaking glances at him all the while to
remind her that he was still around, despite all that
happened.
Earlier that year
Once
they pushed through the curtain, the expression on her face, the one
she always wore to the ring, had disappeared. She tilted her head to
the side, frowning as she examined his face closely. He was bleeding
like crazy, so badly that she couldn't even tell where the actual cut
was. He looked to be in a great deal of pain, and it just about broke
her heart.
Almost immediately after they had come through the
curtain, Chris was behind them. He rushed to their side, his eyes
gleaming with concern.
"Hey, man, are you okay?" he
asked.
He was hurting like hell himself, but he was a little
more worried about his friend's well being. Both of them knew damn
well what came with the territory of performing in a steel cage
match, but at the same time, Chris feared he may have went a little
too hard on him.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Jay Reso
replied, his arms still wrapped around Trish Stratus and Tyson Tomko.
"Just bladed a little too deep... I just need to sit
down."
Tomko helped him over to a nearby equipment crate,
where both he and Trish let go of Jay, the blonde man plopping down
on it with a groan. Tyson eyed him in silence, the slightest bit of
worry showing in his usually unexpressive eyes.
"You sure
you're alright, boss?" he asked, standing in front of the
crate.
Jay glanced at up him, smirking as he nodded his head.
Tomko had called him 'boss' since the day he debuted.
"Yeah,
I'm fine," he assured him.
After asking if there was
anything else he could do, Tyson - who was even quieter than his
character, if possible - made himself scarce, leaving Chris, Trish,
and Jay at the gorilla position. Trish watched Tyson disappear, and
then returned her gaze to Jay's direction, her dark eyes focusing
again on his bloodied forehead.
"Don't move," she
advised him, placing her index finger on his bare chest. "I'm
going to get something to clean you up so the trainer can take a look
at you. I'll be right back."
With that, she backed away
from him, heading back to the bathrooms in her locker room, where she
hoped she'd find a washcloth or something of the sort to help clean
up his face. A small smile came to her lips as she thought of
Jay.
The two of them became an item back in November of 2003,
when the angle involving herself, Chris, and Jay also included her
best friend in the women's locker room, Amy Dumas. It was almost
strange to work on screen with him as well - Stacy Keibler had told
her horror stories of what working on screen had done to her
ill-fated relationship with Andrew Martin - but she had grown to love
it, and to love him. He made her transition into being a heel so easy
for her, partly because he was one of the best in the business.
Her
smile faded as she reached the locker room, all of sudden remembering
why she had set out for it in the first place. The room was empty,
not surprisingly since Jay and Chris had the last match of the night.
She ran through the bathroom, grabbing one of the small washcloths
from the rack. She turned the cold water on and ran it underneath the
stream. She soaked it completely before shutting the water off,
ringing it out a bit to drain the excess water.
Then, she
headed out of the room and back to where she'd left Jay. When she
reached him, Trish noticed that he was alone.
"Where's
Chris?" she asked, tapping his knees lightly.
He glanced
down, spreading his legs a bit so that she could stand between them.
"He went to the trainer. Vince insisted earlier that we
both get checked out after the match, so Chris figured he'd get in
and out so I can head in," Jay explained to her.
Trish
nodded, raising the rag up to his face.
"Now, just hold
still a minute," she instructed. "I want to clean some of
this up so I can try and figure out where the damn cut is."
Jay
nodded, knowing full well that any protests to her plans would be
pointless. Trish pressed the wet cloth to his forehead, silently
thinking to herself that this was the last time the white rag would
ever be used. She gently wiped away at the blood and sweat that had
gathered there. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he jumped, a small
moan of pain escaping his lips. Trish removed the cloth, gazing at
him with concern.
"What is it? Too cold? Too much
pressure?" she asked, wondering what she had done to cause him
pain.
Truth was, she hadn't done anything. In fact, the pain
he was experiencing wasn't even in his head. He brushed her hand
away, taking it his own as a pained expression in his features. He
hadn't said anything before because the pain hadn't been too
severe... now, he wasn't sure if he could even stand if he
tried.
"No, not my head, Trish. It's my back... my back
is killing me..."
