Her Head v. Her Heart
A/N: As promised, the much-anticipated ending of Head v. Heart is here. I hope you guys like it. Oh, and please stay tuned at the end of this episode for an important message. . . (p.s. I just spent, like, a hundred bucks on jewelry this weekend, so I'm way more broke than I was before - clearly, I own none of these characters.) Enjoy!
What happened in Vegas was supposed to stay in Vegas. Trish didn't know for sure, but she hoped to God that was true. She hoped that she could leave Dave's harsh words from the two nights ago in Vegas. And she hoped she could leave John's proposal in Vegas. And she really hoped that she could leave their explosive fight in Vegas. She hoped that she could hit the road tomorrow and everything would be just as it was.
But even as she walked through the emptying streets of the Strip at six o'clock in the morning, she knew that nothing would ever be as it was. Heading into Sin City, she had only three fears. In just over twenty-four hours, they had all come true. Dave had ended their affair. She had lost the Women's Title. John had proposed. In a little more than a full day, Trish had gone from dancing on the top of the world, to drowning at the bottom of the barrel.
The sky broke, dropping angry drops of rain to the ground below, but she barely noticed. The crying heavens were the closest thing her face would feel to tears, she had determined. She was not a weak, little girl who cried over stupid boys, and she wasn't going to start now, no matter who the boys were. Let Dave have his stupid, stable future with Brandy. And if John really wanted marriage and a family, he could find it somewhere else. She wasn't ready for that and she wasn't about to be strong-armed into it by some hard-bodied, super-sweet man she was head-over-heels in love with.
Look at Trish Stratus. Running for her life. Scared shitless. About to tap out to fear. You're pathetic, Trisha. The thoughts attacked her so quickly that she had to sit. Lowering herself to the nearest bench, she watched the fountain exploding in the distance and swallowed the lump in her throat.
I am not scared of anything. I'm not scared of anyone. That's bull shit. I never run away from a fight. I never back down when I know what I want. I am not scared. She tried to combat the inner-dialogue, but her brain was at war now, ready to argue until she surrendered.
You're terrified. You're scared to death of loving him. You're scared that you can't be enough. You're scared that he's going to realize that you're not everything he thinks you are.
Why the hell would I be scared of loving him? He's the best thing that ever happened to me. He loves me for the spirited, spontaneous woman that I am. He loves everything about me. Why would I be scared of loving someone like that? She stood from the bench, steeling her resolve to win this conflict as she started back toward the hotel.
You've had your entire life planned since you were twelve, Trish. Career first, then love, then a family. Wrestling, man, kids. Always been that way in your head, kid. And now the man is here, and it doesn't fit your time table, and you're scared to veer off the path. You're scared to go out of order. You're scared that you want to.
You're scared that you want to marry him. You're scared that you're willing to give up everything right now if it means that you can be with him. And you are terrified that you know I'm right.
She let out a loud scream and shoveled a handful of wet hair from her face. She didn't care that her make up was running and that she probably looked like a crazy person, standing in the middle of the empty street, screaming at the rain. She didn't care what anyone thought of her anymore. She just wanted the voices to stop. And she wanted them to stop being right.
By the time she ran out of breath and stopped screaming, a black sports car had pulled up beside her in the street. The driver's tinted window slid down and he smirked knowingly at the small woman, barely standing against the angry downpour. "What the hell do you want?" she snapped.
Nodding his head toward the empty passenger's seat, Dave motioned for her to get in the car. "I'll tell you what I don't want. I don't want you to get pneumonia and die in the middle of the Vegas Strip," he smiled.
She rolled her eyes, her hands on her hips. "I thought you were done playing games with me," she challenged, rehashing his words from the day before.
But Dave's gaze was steady and his jaw was set. Trish knew, before he opened his mouth, that she wasn't going to win this one. "I am done playing games," he nodded stoically. "Now get in the fuckin' car before I have to get out there and make you."
A bolt of lightening split the sky, causing Trish to jump, but she refused to move any closer to the car. He had made it clear that he wasn't interested in seeing her anymore, and she wasn't about to look like the pathetic lap dog by crawling into his car just to avoid the rain. "I am fine. Why don't you just go back to your little girlfriend and your perfect, stable life, and leave me the hell alone?"
Rolling his eyes, Dave threw the door of the car open and cringed at the feeling of the cold rain on his face. "Dammit, Trish," he growled, lifting her in his massive arms. Even soaking wet, she weighed less than what he benched on a normal basis. "You are makin' me ruin a fuckin' expensive suit, woman," he teased, throwing her into the passenger's seat and slamming the door.
By the time he made it back to the driver's side, Dave's shoulders were soaked and droplets of water slipped from his gelled hair and onto his cheeks. Trish kept her eyes trained on the road, trying her best to ignore the smell of his cologne. Why did he have to smell so damn good? "I don't wanna go back to the hotel," she insisted.
"Why?" If she was going to act like one of his adolescent daughters, then he was going to talk to her like one, even though he knew damned well that she wasn't going to answer him.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Trish noted that he was driving away from the Strip, and the hotel, but bit her lip to keep from asking him why. As far as she was concerned, they had said everything they needed to say to each other the night before. He couldn't keep sleeping with her – it wasn't right – they had other people to think about. He didn't feel right, and since it was just sex, they needed to end it and move on with their lives.
But the silence between them became more than she could bare. Propping her knees against the dashboard of the car, she watched as he directed the car away from civilization and toward a desert, where only the full moon lit their path. She twisted a strand of her long, blonde hair between her fingers and then cleared her throat.
"John asked me to marry him tonight," she finally whispered. "Last night. Whatever."
Dave felt his heart sink to his toes. He knew it was coming, but the admission still made him feel like he'd been punched. "What'd you say?" he asked, though it seemed rather rhetorical.
"Oh, I said yes," Trish said, her voice sincere. "But then I told him I needed to go wander around Vegas alone for awhile, screaming at nothing at all, because I was so fuckin' happy," her tone turned sarcastic as she shot him an eye roll and then looked back out the windshield. "I told him no fuckin' way. We have this really great thing goin', and now he wants to go fuck it up with marriage?"
He didn't know why, when everything inside of him was telling him it was none of his damn business, he felt the need to dig into her commitment issues, but the words popped out before he could stop them. "What is it with you and marriage?" he asked. She turned surprised eyes to him, but he went on. "You've got this twisted idea that marriage ruins relationships," he chuckled to himself and exited off the main road.
"You're right, Dave," Trish retorted sarcastically. "Marriage has been a really great thing for your relationships in the past." As soon as the words were out, she wanted them back. It wasn't fair, and she knew it, but it came out before she had time to reign the thought in.
He didn't speak,only slowed the car to a stop in a secluded stretch of desert. Cutting the engine, he opened the door and inhaled a deep breath of morning air before pocketing the car keys. She was making excuses, shielding herself, and he knew he couldn't force the walls down. But damned if he didn't want to be inside the fortress of her heart more than anything else in the world at that very moment. For all the jerking around and the mind games she played with him, he still wanted her. He still loved her, and it pissed him off.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally climbed out of the car and made her way to his seat in the sand. Lowering tiny frame next to his considerably larger one, Trish pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for," she admitted, running a finger over the wet sand at her side.
Dave cleared his throat and stared over the horizon. "Do you still love me?" He couldn't believe the words had come out of his own mouth as he shook his head and tossed a handful of sand to the side. "Did you ever?"
She felt like she was going to throw up. How could he even question whether or not she had loved him? And why should she even have to answer a ridiculous question like that? She huffed and then realized that he was waiting for something. "Of course I did," she laughed, as though it were some kind of joke.
And then she turned to meet his eye. It wasn't a joke. The expression on his face said that it was the most serious thing he had ever asked anyone. He needed to know if she still loved him. He was ready to open up, but he needed to know if she was prepared to share the same honesty. Her hand jutted out, seemingly with its own agenda, and her fingers wrapped around his.
He tried his best to mask the million emotions that shot through his body with that one touch. Noticing her shivering for the first time, he let go long enough to wiggle out of his tailored jacket and slid it over her shoulders, but then took her hand again. He didn't care if he said anything else the rest of the day. If he could sit with Trish, alone in the Vegas desert, and just hold her hand, he would be happy.
"I do," she choked the words out around the emotion in her throat. She knew that he was looking at her, but Trish could only watch their entwined hands. "When I told John that I couldn't marry him tonight, it wasn't because I didn't want to get married." She raised her dark eyes to meet his, a thousand unasked questions passing between them. "It's because I can't imagine myself married to anyone but you."
He wanted to pull a diamond out of his pocket and slide it onto her finger. But then his mind remembered that he was a man, and that he wasn't prepared for anything as cheesy, and movie-like, as that. He didn't have a diamond in his pocket, and even if he did? He wasn't about to ask her to marry him right then and there.
His face twisted, and Trish wasn't sure what to make of it. Was he repulsed at the fact that she had just said she wanted to spend her life with him? Or was he confused because the woman now pledging her devotion had, just months ago, walked away from that very prospect? "Not now," she assured him.
Dave's grip on her fingers relaxed, as did his shoulders. "But, Trish," he started.
She put a finger over his lips and shook her head. "I know that you have Brandy now, and that you guys are," she stopped, looking for the right word, "whatever you are," she added with a small smile. "I just thought that you should know that, after we talked last night – or you yelled, would be more accurate, I think – I did a lot of thinking. And I realized that you were right. The sex meant something, Dave. It was like, no matter how much my head said that it was just sex, my heart wasn't buying it."
Letting go of her hand, he stood, trying to clear his own mind. Eight hours ago, he had been sure that his life was on track, that he could be happy with Brandy and that their families could merge into one big, happy union. He had convinced himself that he would never have Trish, and that he was okay with that. And then he had run into John in the hallway of the hotel, taking out the anger of rejection on an innocent soda machine. The younger man didn't know where his ex-girlfriend had gone, and he didn't fuckin' care.
After searching every casino and strip club he could think of, Dave had nearly given up. That's when he had found her, standing in the rain, looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her. That was when he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he wasn't close to being over Trish. That was the moment he realized, even drenched and crazy, he loved that woman enough to drop everything and jump through hoops for her, if she would only ask.
But now that it seemed like she was asking, he wasn't sure what to do. How could he turn his back on a sure thing when he had no guarantee that she wouldn't bolt again? How could he put himself, and his girls, through all the drama that came with Trish? And how could he convince his own heart that this was as bad an idea as his head knew it was? "Trish," he sighed, turning back around.
He was going to tell her all of the reasons that they couldn't be together, and she didn't want to hear them. There was only one thing that she needed to know from Dave. And if he said the words, she would throw her arms around his neck and hang on forever. "Do you love me?" He looked shocked. "Did you ever?"
"Listen," he held out his hand and pulled her to her feet, realizing immediately what she was trying to do. "I am the same guy you left six months ago," he reminded. "I'm not gonna tell you how fucking gorgeous you are all the time, even though there's no one on Earth that comes close to your beauty. And I'm not going to call you in the middle of the afternoon just to tell you that I love you, even though I'm so ass-backwards crazy about you that sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind.
"I don't talk about my feelings, and I'm not comfortable sitting around and speculating about the future," he reminded her. "If you're waiting for me to say the words, Trish, then we should just head back, because I'm not going to. This is who I am," he looked down at himself and then back at her, lowering one of his large hands to her cheek. "If you love me like you claim you do, then you love this guy – the one who will bend over backwards to make sure you have everything you need, and most of what you want – but he doesn't talk."
Like an epiphany, it hit her. Staring into Dave's dark eyes, she realized that it didn't matter. She didn't care if he ever said he loved her, or if he wanted her to quit her job and have ten babies. She didn't care if they never got married, or if they did it as soon as the nearest wedding chapel opened. She loved Dave Batista. She loved him more than her career. She loved him more than all of the dreams and goals she had set for herself. She loved him more than anything.
"You don't have to say it," she conceded, taking both of his hands in hers. "I love you, Dave. And I want to be with you," she added.
Her words filled him like warm coffee on a cold DC morning. They ran down his back, leaving prickly little goose bumps in their wake. They floated around in his head until every other thought was broken into weightless, disconnected bubbles.
People were going to get hurt by this decision. Brandy would be heart-broken, he knew. And he didn't know how John would react if he showed up to the next city to find his ex-girlfriend back with his friend. But Dave was willing to put it all on the line. Truth be told, he always was.
They returned to the car hand-in-hand, neither speaking as Dave headed back toward the city. The drive back to the hotel was silent, save for the soft music of the radio, and Trish's humming. His hand rested on the gear shift, and hers rested atop his, tapping the beat lightly. Neither were sure what happened next, but they both knew that they would face it together.
He stopped the car in the parking garage and turned his hand over, grasping her hand in his palm. "I'm glad your back, Trish," he said honestly, hoping it didn't sound as corny out loud as it sounded in his head.
She leaned over the center console and placed her hands firmly on his cheeks. "Me, too," she winked, moving in until her lips met his. They had kissed a lot over the last month, but this was different. There was nothing guarded or defensive about this kiss. It was full of love, adoration, and respect. It was full of everything Trish had been longing for her entire life.
Pulling back, she licked her lips and then wound her arms around his neck. "Dave?" Her voice came out soft and seductive, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "Just once?"
He growled and then gave her a lopsided grin. "I love you, Trish Stratus."
She giggled and kissed him again. It was a love that scared her beyond belief, and one that was far from the romance novel ideal - but it was the only one that she wanted. Forever.
Alright, so the Batista fans stepped it up big time in the last few days - everyone went a little crazy - and this is what we ended up with. But I just wanted the Chain Gang to know that I got an idea for a one-shot the other day, and I'm going to give you a fluffy little Trish and John story next. Maybe it won't make up for this ending, but it'll be something, right? Hope you enjoyed it anyway - can't wait to hear your reviews.
And thanks again to everyone who reviewed. You guys were insane and great and fabulous and wonderful. I should put two hundred and fifty "thank you"s in here just to get you all back for the reviews, but I loved them all, so I won't. Suffice it to say - you're all the best and I can't wait to write more for you.