The Emancipation of Trish Stratus

A/N: You know the drill, right? I don't own 'em.

"Are you out of your goddamned mind, woman?" The voice thundered through the locker room, booming over the echo of the slamming door.

Trish jumped from her position in front of her locker. "Are you trying to give me a fuckin' heart attack?" she screeched.

Batista's face was red, dripping with sweat, and not at all happy. "What were you thinking? Wait," he held up a finger. "Clearly, you weren't," he seethed, pounding his fist into a nearby locker. "How many times do I have to tell you, Trish? You don't fuck with Hunter unless you plan on backing it up. And unless you have some magic growth potion in that gym bag, you cannot back this up!"

With a hand over her heart to steady the thumping, she took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "I'm getting out of here. I made a reservation at a different hotel, and I'm going to avoid him until I can figure out what I'm going to do next," she insisted, turning and hoisting her bag onto her shoulder.

His heavy palm on her tiny shoulder spun her around. He was more than a foot taller than she was, and almost twice as wide, but she felt nothing but secure in his presence. "You gonna hide forever?" he asked, his voice calming considerably.

He had always been good to her, when he was with Evolution, and the look in his eyes hadn't changed since he left. She wasn't a part of what had happened between him and Hunter, and he didn't hold her responsible. But what she had pulled in the ring? That was flat-out stupid. And it wasn't like her.

"I don't know," Trish answered in a whisper. She hadn't been thinking – it had all been instinct. And now the fear was setting in.

A pounding at the door sent her heart racing again. "Open the fucking door. NOW!"

Batista moved quickly, unlocked the door, and then shut it behind Cena, who moved to Trish with lightning speed, enveloping her in a suffocating hug. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he laughed into her hair. "That was the most fucked up thing I ever seen anybody do in my life." His voice came out strangled through the filter of his own terror.

As he set her back on the ground, she brushed the hair out of her eyes and sniffled back an involuntary tear. "You guys," she sighed, licking her lips and sinking onto the bench beside her. "What the hell have I done?"

"You started a war, Baby," Cena answered simply, resting his hands on his hips. "But it's okay. We got your back."

Batista rolled his eyes at the man beside him and then looked back to the frail woman in the corner. "Look, Trish, what's done is done, and we can't change that. My only concern is getting you out of this arena before they find you, and we've already wasted too much time." He cast his eyes to the clock behind her as yet another knock sounded at the door.

"Trish?" Lita's soft voice sounded from the other side, barely above a whisper.

Cracking the door, Batista looked out at the red-head with a deadly glare. "What?" he barked.

"Edge is pulling his car around back," Lita said, her eyes darting back and forth at the hallway. "If you guys can get her around this corner, he'll be waiting to take you wherever you wanna go," she cleared her throat as a boom sounded near gorilla position. "And tell her thanks, for what she did tonight."

Batista nodded and closed the door firmly. "They're coming," he said.

Cena took Trish's bag over his shoulder. "Carry her," he ordered the big man as he headed for the door and peeked outside. "He still looks pretty loopy," he reported on the sight at the opposite end of the hall. "Flair's makin' all the noise, but it looks like Orton's takin' him to the training room." He shut the door softly and then looked back to where Trish was grasping Batista's neck tightly. "Move quick. Don't stop. Let's go."

When he was out the door, Trish felt Batista's chest rumble with slight laughter. "What?" she asked.

"I think makin' that movie went to his head," he smirked as he headed into the hall, avoided eye contact, and started for the back entrance. Trish just rested her head against his shoulder and waited until they were outside to breath. She had to savor every slight intake of air from here on out – she feared it just might be her last.