The Emancipation of Trish Stratus

A/N: Well, lookie here - an update! I know it's been a couple of days, but my roommate and I have been tag-teaming our cable modem and it's been kickin' our asses. Anyway, I think things are good now - so on with the show. I was going to combine the this chapter and the next, but I think this one kind of needed to stand on its own. I was hoping for a quick blurb, but Trish and her "mystery man" demanded a little more time. Hope you guys enjoy it. Oh, and before I forget - thanks for the really nice reviews. You guys are the best, and it's a little overwhelming to know that you're liking my shit enough to ask for more. Also, I'm assuming you're all smart enough to know thatmy broke ass still doesn't own any of the people in this story!

When he found her, she was alone in the most secluded of spots behind the loading dock of the arena, bobbing and weaving in a circle, punching and kicking at the air. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail, her hands tightly wrapped in tape, her shoulders visibly tense. She knew better than to be alone before the biggest match of her career. But, as he watched her, he couldn't be mad.

She threw a right, and then a hard left. It wasn't enough. He knew she wasn't strong enough. She couldn't outwrestle Triple H, and she didn't have a prayer of matching his power. She threw another hard right. It wouldn't be enough to budge a punching bag, but the flinch on her face said it was plenty to nearly dislocate her shoulder. If she didn't relax, she was going to get hurt before the bell ever rang.

He watched as she bit her lower lip and plotted another series of kicks and punches. She was in way over her head, and he knew it. Hell, everyone knew it. There was no way that Trish Stratus, for all of her spunk and finesse, had a glimmer of hope once she stepped onto the mat with Triple H. There was no way she was walking out of that ring. And there was no way he was leaving Miami without a restaurant-quality beating.

"I know you're there," she said, finally stopping to run a hand over her sweaty ponytail. She didn't care that she wasn't going to "wow" the crowd with her skimpy apparel and perfect appearance tonight. She cared about breaking Hunter's nose and making him cry. She didn't have to look like an international fitness model to do that.

Stepping out of the shadow, he shrugged. "Sorry. I couldn't resist takin' a minute to watch my million dollar baby," he winked.

She rolled her eyes and pointed a taped fist at him. "Don't call me that," she warned. "I know how that movie ended, remember?"

He nodded and moved closer, holding something in front of him. "Ya know, for as paranoid as Hunter can be, you'd think he'd have better security in his locker room."

Trish reached out and accepted the gift he was presenting. "How did you?" she asked and then stopped short, her hands sliding over the wooden handle of the sacred sledgehammer.

He shrugged and leaned against the wall, pulling her tiny body close to his. "It's amazing what a few bucks and a growl will get you around here," he winked. "Look, you don't have to use it tonight. I just thought it would be better if you knew he couldn't."

Trish sighed and looked up into his eyes. Those eyes had probed her into revealing more of her soul than she had ever shared with anyone. Those eyes had glimmered and glinted when he talked about regaining the Heavyweight title. But she rested in the confidence that they never shone brighter than when he was talking about how much he loved her.

With a hand on her cheek, he rubbed her back gently. "You know you don't have to do this, right? I mean, I want you to absolve your demons or whatever, but we can find another way. One that doesn't involve you being crippled for life?"

She wanted to. She wanted to call Bischoff, tell him that she forfeited, and then run away to a deserted Caribbean island with her secret lover forever. But that wasn't going to solve anything. Running never did. She wrapped her own hand around the one supporting her cheek and blinked up at him. "You know I still love you, no matter what happens tonight, right? Whatever he says or does? It's still you and me, right? This doesn't change anything."

He leaned his forehead against hers and noted the rapid beating of her heart next to his chest. "Sweetheart," he said in a steady voice. "Tonight changes everything." With a sigh, he stood straight up again, loosening his grip on her. She wanted to believe that she could win this fight, and then walk back into the world of happily-ever-after. She wanted to believe that beating Hunter would show him that she was independent, and that he would respect her for it. But he didn't have the heart to tell her that her fairy tale wasn't going to come true.

He knew that he was, at least in part, to blame for all of this. He had never asked her to sever her ties with Hunter. He had never asked her to attack him or challenge him for his title. He had never even asked her for help in acquiring said belt for himself. But he had never told her to stop this madness, either. He had let her do whatever she wanted, and just stood back and trusted her judgment. He had encouraged her to stand up for herself. He had put her in this position. And if she got hurt – if her career, or worse, ended at SummerSlam – the blood would be on his hands.

"What are you thinking?" she asked finally, after nearly ten minutes of just staring at one another in complete silence. If the world was moving, they weren't aware.

He smiled and brushed the ponytail away from her shoulder, touching her face again. He couldn't help it. She was beautiful. She was amazing. And she was his. "That you are the bravest person I have ever met," he answered finally, running his thumb over her bottom lip as she smiled and then looked away. "And that I don't know what the hell I ever did to deserve a goddess like you." Quickly, he raised an eyebrow, causing her to smile wider. "Or what heinous thing you did to deserve an ass clown like me," he added.

She raised an eyebrow of her own and poked his hard chest with her fingernail. "What did I tell you about that?" He nodded. "No using my ex-boyfriend's phrases – it's creepy and it's not at all cute," she chided.

He held up his free hand in defense, and started to speak again. But the urge to kiss her was stronger than his resistance. Leaning forward, he took her bottom lip between his teeth and then sucked it into his mouth, letting his tongue run slowly over the plump flesh until she moaned from the back of her throat and grasped his shoulders for support. Her tongue began to fight back and he could feel her body straining as she stood on her tip-toes and ran her fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck.

When he finally pulled back, he breathed, "God, I love you," with heavily-lidded eyes.

She returned her feet to the ground and rested her palm against his heart. "And I love you. More than any of this other bull shit. You know that, right?" He nodded. "Because I only want to win tonight so that we can finally be together. Out there. I want the world to know how ass-backwards crazy I am for you."

He kissed her quickly again and then checked his watch. "I gotta get back in there and get ready for my match." He reluctantly let go of her shoulder, but kept his other hand entwined with hers. "But promise me that you will remember two things tonight, okay?" He tilted his head to the side. "Three things."

She smiled fully. "What?"

He held up one finger and tried to convey the seriousness of the situation with a hard stare. Only it was impossible when he was looking at her. She made him smile all the time. "Leverage," he stated and then held up a second finger, "and momentum. You can't overpower Hunter, but you can knock him onto the mat if you hit him from up high or use his own momentum to trip him up, okay?" She nodded and bit her lip, an adorable picture of full concentration. "Once you get him down, we'll distract the ref, and you hit him in the one place you know you can hurt him, okay?"

"Got it," she nodded. "Leverage and momentum." She let go of his hand as he started back toward the arena. "hey," she called out and he stopped, throwing a look back over his broad shoulder. "What's the third?"

He gave her a smirk, and a wink, and then stared into her eyes with an intensity that seemed to bore right through her. "No matter what? I got your back."