Blaze of Glory

A/N: Alright, so this may, or may not, be the end of Blaze of Glory. I can end the story here and be okay with that. Or I can give y'all a Epilogue chapter. It's up to you. I'm open to whichever, so I'll just sit back and wait to see what you think. Sadly, thirty-nine chapters and a whole lot of time later, I'm no closer to owning the Superstars mentioned in here. Oh, well! Enjoy!

Trish reached the gorilla pit without any assistance. Her adrenaline stopped flowing simultaneously, though, as her legs collapsed and she nearly hit the floor. "Come here, Champ," a deep voice sounded behind her, sweeping her off the ground and into a massive pair of arms.

She craned her neck a fraction of an inch and flinched in pain before resting her head on Batista's tee shirt-covered chest. "I don't think I'm ever gonna move again," she sighed.

He chuckled and followed the medic down a long hall, toward the training room. Superstars and management stooges tried to stop him, to congratulate Trish on her win, but the Animal just kept moving. "Maybe you could wait until she's coherent?" he suggested to some intern peon who kept trying to get Trish's attention.

"Hmm," she sighed, exhaustion taking her over. "I could get used to this," she whispered.

The big man pushed the make-shift hospital room door with his shoulder, nodding as the trainer motioned to the empty bed. Dave laid her gingerly against the hard bed and the flat pillow. "You cool?" he asked.

She moaned and nodded, trying to move her legs. But her lower body seemed to be in protest. Hell, her entire body was rebelling against everything she asked it to do at the moment. "Tony, I think I'm broken," she tried to laugh.

"Trish?"

Randy's lazy voice tickled her ears from the other side of the curtain that had been drawn for the privacy of the wrestlers. "Hey, baby," she answered, her voice strained and small.

"Open the curtain," Randy ordered someone.

"I think you guys should rest for now," a puny-sounding trainer tried to reason with Randy.

Trish giggled slightly at the notion. She had known him a longer than she had liked him, and she had never seen Randy Orton listen to a trainer. "Listen to him, Sweetie. I'm not very pretty right now," she cringed, trying to turn her head.

Tony, the man who had diagnosed every one of her injuries over the last five years, put his hands on either side of her face. "Can you move it at all, Trish?"

She sucked in a breath as he tried to help her, and then squeezed her eyes shut. "I can move it. It just hurts like a bitch," she answered as he moved his hands to her shoulders. "My ankle's killin' me," she finally told him, wanting his hands off her upper body. There was nothing she liked less than being touched when she was hurting.

The sound of the curtain sliding against the rod drew her attention. As slowly as she could, and ignoring the pain, she found herself staring into the most beautiful, albeit cloudy, pair of blue eyes she had ever seen. "I told you I'm not very pretty."

Randy rolled his eyes, the sedatives they had given him taking effect. Extending his good arm toward her, he waited until Trish returned the gesture. He wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed. "You're beautiful," he corrected.

"You're heavily medicated," Trish spoke back. She may have been the last man standing in the ring, but she was down for the count now. She closed her eyes and let a smile drift over her lips.

"What are you thinking?" Randy asked, his eyes sweeping over her heavenly features, as he waited for her to tell him about the girls that Vince would be hiring, or the way she had felt out there in the ring. He even expected her to tell him she had reconsidered, that she wasn't retiring after all.

But she surprised him when she said, "I'm pretending that I've got enough energy to jump off this table and straddle you." With a groan, she licked her lips. "And now I'm thinking about kissing you." Opening her dark eyes, she smiled deviously. "You were so good out there."

He tightened his grip on her hand and watched her watching him. Even with trained technicians pulling on their limbs, injecting them with muscle relaxers, and spouting medical jargon, they were alone. No one else existed in the world of Trish and Randy, and she felt like she was doing cartwheels on the inside.

"Marry me."

Her eyes grew wide and then she laughed. "Now I know you're high," she answered, rolling her eyes and looking up at the ceiling. Randy didn't answer, only gripped her hand tighter. Returning her gaze to him, she swallowed. "You're serious?"

He nodded. She still didn't answer. "Do I have to prove it?" Nothing – no response. "Trisha, I can't wait to marry you. As soon as we can both walk again." He tried to clear his throat of the nerves rising there. "I want to buy a house with you, and have amazingly good-looking kids with you. I want it now." She was tearing up, but she still wasn't answering.

She tried to swallow and closed her eyes, taking in the moment. She had always dreamed of the perfect proposal. And none of her fantasies included an emergency gurney or blinding, post-match pain. "I know I told you to surprise me," she laughed slightly, raising an eyebrow as she met his eye again.

"Baby," he started as he felt his grasp slipping. "I'ma pass out soon, and I'd kinda like an answer."

She laughed and then screamed in pain as Tony pulled her boot off her swollen ankle. "Dammit, Tony, I'm trying to have a moment here." He just rolled his eyes and she returned her stare to the man beside her. "As soon as we can walk again, I can't wait to marry you, either, Randy."

"Is that a "yes"?"

"It's a "yes," ya moron," a deep voice sounded from the door.

Trish tried to sit up, smiling at Hunter as he leaned against the frame of the entry. "Hey, you," she smiled.

"You said to come see you in the trainer's room," her friend shrugged slightly, making his way to her bedside. "Gotta say, Trishter, you surprised me," he admitted. "I mean, I always knew you were tougher than that pussy over there," he pointed to Orton.

She reached her free hand up to smack at Hunter. "Alright, that's enough," she interrupted. "That's my husband you're talking about."

Hunter watched as Orton slipped from consciousness, despite fighting it with everything he had. Trish held on to his hand, though his arm had gone limp. "I know it's not like I'll never see you again," The Game smirked, bending to place a kiss on her forehead. "I just wanted to be the first to tell you 'bye.'" He sucked in a deep breath as he stood and shoved his hands into his pockets, turning on his toe to exit as quickly as he had appeared.

They were the last words Trish heard as she floated off to dreams of wedding ceremonies, country homes, and beautiful Orton babies.