The Emancipation of Trish Stratus

A/N: I just wanted to take a second to say thanks to you guys who have reviewed the story already. That's awesome! I love to talk, mostly to hear the sound of my own voice, but it means a lot to know that people are diggin' what I have to say! Oh, and I wanted to let you know, in fairness, you're not going to find out who the boyfriend is for a while. But please keep sending me your suggestions and suspicions. You may or may not be right, but you might just give me an idea that I didn't have before. One character that you read in this chapter wasn't going to be there at all until I read one of your reviews. Sounds cryptic, I know, but I'm doing my best to let the story build itself and not give away too much too quickly. Sorry if you hate me for it - but if the suspense keeps you reading, I feel like I've done my job. Anyway, as per usual, I own nothing you read here - well, the ideas, but not the people.

"Where you at, girl?"

Trish looked up from her lonely spot in the back booth of a club in whatever city they were in. Two weeks had passed since Hunter had re-admitted Orton into Evolution, and things were not exactly comfortable between the two old friends. She was holding to her guns that the young upstart was not to be trusted, and Hunter wasn't letting go of the idea that he knew what he was doing.

The strain made it impossible for them to sit down for one of their infamous heart-to-hearts. And without that quiet, personal time, she had no way of letting him know that the man she was seeing, while a threat to the World Heavyweight title, wasn't a bad guy. She had always expected that, after she had a chance to explain, he would get it. Things would work out – he would understand – everything would be better. But until that time came, she was unwilling to share her relationship with the rest of the world. And it sucked.

She slid over in the booth as John Cena sank into the seat on her left. There were few people in the locker room that she considered her real friends, mostly because no one trusted her bond with Evolution, but John, along with Victoria, were two of her favorite people. "Hey, kid," she tried to smile brightly.

John sighed and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, reclining in the booth as much as possible. "So, baby," he smiled and winked at her. "Why you sittin' over here all alone? Lookin' all sad and shit?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Where else am I gonna go?" she asked as Victoria sat a cocktail in front of Trish and then slid into the booth.

"You sure you don't have somewhere else to go?" the other woman asked pointedly. "Someone else to be with?" Everyone who knew Trish knew something was up with her lately. On the walk from the arena to the club, Victoria and John had deduced that it had to be a guy.

But Trish wasn't biting quite so easily. They could think they were clever, but she knew exactly what they were doing. And she had determined not to talk about him until it was safe for everyone to know. She wasn't taking any risks. She respected Hunter, and she didn't want to lose his friendship. But she also didn't want to lose the love of her life to one of his underhanded, "innocent" threats.

She easily transitioned the conversation onto happier topics, and managed to avoid the "boyfriend" thing all together for most of the night. After a couple of hours, though, her eyelids started to feel heavy and she tapped the table with the palms of her hands. "I'm headin' out, you guys," she said.

They both knew better than to argue when Trish was tired. Standing, John let her out of the booth and kissed her cheek before Victoria hugged her and told her to be careful walking back to the hotel. She thanked them both for their company and started for the door.

Until a large body blocked her path. Grimacing, she looked up into those crystal blue eyes and then rolled her hazel ones. "What the hell do you want?" she asked.

Randy smirked and clearly inspected her cleavage before answering. "Where you headed in such a hurry there, Princess?" he asked.

Raising an eyebrow, she cast a look to the side, noting that Triple H and Flair were there, with teeny-tiny, half-naked chicks draped over their chests. "What's the matter, Orton? Couldn't get a bimbo of your own?" She smirked. "Or do you just not go for that type? Are you finally admitting that you play for the other side?"

The smile faded from his lips and he cast a look at Triple H. It was a look that said, at least to Trish, that he would rather be anywhere than talking to her at that moment. "I know you don't like it, Trish, but I'm a part of Evolution again. I suggest you show me some respect."

She laughed. Right in his face, the laugh escaped her throat before she could stop it. "Show you some respect? For what? One Heavyweight title reign that lasted less than a month? Is that what you want respect for?" Shaking her head, she set out to push every one of his buttons – for the whole club to hear, if she had to. "I am a six-time champion, Orton. Maybe you should show me some respect."

And it was his turn to laugh, hands on his hips. When Hunter sent him over to cut her off at the door, he was supposed to convince her to come back to the table for a drink with her "real" friends. Now he just wanted to see how red her face would get before she blew up at him. "You're a six-time Women's Champion, Trish. I don't know if you've taken a good look around lately, but our business isn't exactly boasting the most stimulating competition in that area. You're barely, on a technicality, a champion, Sweetheart." With the quick raise of his eyebrow, he licked his lips. "Don't take that the wrong way, though. I mean, I'd still let you suck on my," he started.

Her blood boiled in her veins as she rested a finger on his lips and then grabbed his shirt collar, pulling his face close to her own. "I wouldn't suck on your damn wrestling boots if you dipped 'em in chocolate first, Orton. You listen to me – I don't like you. Hunter, for reasons known only to him, may trust you, but I don't. And I don't like people I don't trust." She let go of his lapel and straightened her own jacket, giving him a saccharine smile. "Now, why don't you run along and tell your little friends that I don't know what kind of game they're playing, but I don't appreciate it. If Hunter wants to know something about me, he should just fuckin' ask me himself, okay?" She gave her trademark giggle, patted his shoulder, and walked off.

Randy hung his head in defeat and walked back to the table, just as Hunter was instructing the girls to run along for a bit. They did whatever he told them to – it amazed Randy, even after months away, trying to convince himself that the cars and the women and money didn't matter. The power his mentor wielded was indescribable. "So, she just said she's goin' home," he mumbled.

Hunter laughed and pounded back another shot. "What she did, Orton, was hand you your ass on a platter, in front of everyone. I love that little girl," he said with a distant affection. Blinking, he turned back to Ric and Randy. "Ric, I want you to go have a talk with Cena – make sure nothing is gong on with them, and then we're getting' out of here. And remind me, guys, to talk to Trish about the places she chooses to hang out. It is definitely not Evolution standard."

Outside the club, Trish was shaking. "You're the Women's Champion, Trish," she mocked Orton as she fished through her purse for her cell phone. "Yeah, well you're Triple H's bitch. Jack ass," she spat as she dialed a number and waited for an answer. She didn't get one.

"Baby, it's me," she spoke quickly as she walked in the direction of the hotel. "I just had a really ugly confrontation with the fuckin' Legend Killer, and I think Hunter might suspect something. I'm gonna wait to come over until later, but I'll definitely be over, okay? I gotta go, but I love you, and I miss you – even though I just saw you tonight. Bye."

If her theory was right, then Hunter was having Evolution follow her – at the arena, the hotels, the appearances, and even to clubs after the shows. She got the sinking suspicion that they knew something, but she wasn't sure if it was just her own paranoia, or the truth. Either way, she was done taking risks with her love life. If she had to make midnight rendezvous for the rest of her life, she wasn't letting this one go.