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..."