Blaze of Glory
(The Final Chapter)
A/N: Alright - this is it. The final chapter of the story that started way back in The Emancipation. To Trishaholic, I never thought about doing a Prequel, but your suggestion piqued my interest. I thought about it for a long time today, but these stories were built on twists and secrets, and if you already know how it ends, I can't really shock you with how it began, can I? Also, I think it's time to let this one go. Thanks, a hundred million times over, to everyone who reviewed this story so faithfully, and got behind the movement. It was quite a journey, and I'm kinda sad to see it go. Knowing that so many of you feel the same way gives me a great sense of accomplishment.
Never fear, kids - the Queen's muses snapped into high gear today and I already have an idea for a new Trish story. The problem? I don't know who the big male lead will be yet. Suggestions? I hope to start posting it in the next couple of days.
But for now, I give you the Epilogue to Blaze of Glory. Enjoy! (Oh, I don't own 'em.)
Trish had heard it said that change was the only constant in life. More than twenty years after her retirement, she couldn't say that she disagreed. When she left the company, Vince had extended an invitation to return whenever she was ready, but she was tired of being his marketing pawn. And her life as a wife and mother left little time to even consider returning to the ring.
When, nearly fifteen years later, Vince finally resigned his position as the head of the WWE, many were surprised to see Hunter take the reigns. But in Trish's mind, it made perfect sense. It was the ultimate evolution of The Game, and she had called to let him know she was confident in his ability to take their industry to a whole new level.
When Hunter offered her a part-time position, training the incoming divas, her kids were in almost in high school, and Randy, at age 40, was nowhere near retiring, or losing his ring luster. The Women's roster was stacked with twenty women who actually wrestled, and it was too tempting an offer to turn down. There were still gimmick matches, and swimsuit shoots, and Playboy cover girls, but they were all required to undergo an intense six-week training program before making a television debut.
It was surreal the first time she had stepped back into the ring to start training the new class of divas. It took everything in her not to break down and cry when she realized that this was the culmination of her dream. Back in the day, when she was fighting Vince, people thought it was about getting a better position in the company for herself. But it had been about these girls, fifteen years later, having actual expectations to live up to. It was about these girls, who would lose their jobs not for gaining a few extra pounds, but for failing to step-up their game on a consistent basis
That would have been enough of a thank-you for Trish Stratus. If she never got another accolade, she could rest with the knowledge that these new girls could do what they loved because she had taken a stand for what she believed in so many years earlier.
But it wasn't enough for Hunter, or the Board of Directors. So on the eve of Wrestlemania 45, twenty-three years after walking away, she stood backstage in a Toronto ballroom, waiting to be inducted into the Hall of Fame. "This is not happening," Trish breathed.
Hunter cleared his throat beside her and reached an arm around her waist, feeling as she slumped her weight against his shoulder. "You're not nervous, are ya?" he teased.
"I haven't been in front of a crowd like this in almost twenty-five years, Hunter. What if none of them have any idea who I am?" She bit her lip and stared up at him with doe eyes.
He drank in the innocence of her stare and noted that she hadn't changed all that much. Her hair was still golden blonde, and her body was still well-cared for and toned. Her features were still flawless, though time and age were starting to make themselves known in the corners of her eyes and mouth. "Come on," he rolled his eyes and pointed to the screen in front of them.
She was being inducted by the current Women's Champion – a tall, lean, muscular, twenty-one-year-old named Kya, with blue eyes and long, dark hair. Trish smiled, knowing that the nerves in her own stomach were nothing compared to the ones that young woman was feeling as she stepped onto the stage and acknowledged the cheers of the fans in attendance.
Kya had been one of the girls in her first training group, almost five years ago. She was an exotically beautiful sixteen-year-old at the time, tough as nails in the ring, and sweeter than sugar outside. After a year of Trish's teaching, Kya had graduated from high school and headed to Mexico to continue learning her craft. She returned to the WWE at the young age of twenty, and captured the Women's title after only six months. It was a moment that Trish was sure she would never forget.
"Hundred bucks says she pukes all over those shoes," Hunter nodded toward the screen as Kya tucked her dark locks behind her ears and checked the notes on the podium before her.
He was probably right. Though she played a vixen for the cameras, Trish knew that Kya hated the spotlight when she wasn't wrestling. "She'll be fine," she answered, though she wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him, or herself.
"Most of the women in this room will tell you that they grew up watching Trish Stratus wrestle. Twenty years after her retirement, they can still tell you how it felt to watch her beat Triple H for the World Heavyweight Championship. They can easily relay what they were thinking when she, along with Lita and Victoria, let Vince McMahon know that they were taking back the ring. And they will be glad to tell you where they were, and how hard they cried, when they watched Trish Stratus beat Randy Orton in her final match at Wrestlemania 22 in Chicago."
Kya sipped from a Styrofoam cup on the podium and cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow when someone in the back yelled for her to take off her shirt. It was crass, but it broke the ice for the young diva as she told him he'd have to pay for the next issue of Playboy to see her naked.
"Most of the women in this room will tell you that they got into a ring for the first time because of Trish Stratus. They are here tonight because they saw her fire, her beauty, and her determination – and they wanted to be just like that." The camera panned to many of the current divas, all nodding or clapping in agreement with their leader. "I am not one of those women," she smiled, her eyes sweeping over the front row. "I didn't grow up wanting to be just like Trish Stratus. I grew up wanting to be better."
Hunter chuckled at her side. "That's why she's the champ," Trish shrugged, resting her head on her friend's shoulder as Kya continued.
"Trish was a strong, confident, determined woman who never backed down until she got what she wanted. Week in and week out, she was the woman who would stop at nothing to get her way in the ring, and out of it. And she was the one who made the arena crackle with just a little more excitement every time she stepped through the curtain. Watching her made you believe, even for a moment, that nothing was impossible if you were willing to fight for it."
Trish smiled to herself. There had been moments, in the beginning, that she had worried about being forgotten. After retiring, she had been worried that the Women's division would receive a slight push, and then get buried. And though she no longer worried about her name being remembered, but she was glad that her contributions were still making a difference.
"Trish Stratus is not my hero because she was the seven-time Women's champion, or because she sparked the revolution that still lives today, that allows me to stand here tonight. No woman before her, or since, really, has possessed the same mixture of sexy, passionate beauty, but that's not why I grew up idolizing Trish Stratus. Those are not the reasons that she was my standard for becoming a WWE diva." Licking her lips, Kya scanned the room, looking to the fan section with the proud grin of a kid on Christmas morning.
"Trish Stratus is my hero because she put being my mom ahead of being your leader and idol. My brothers and I never doubted, for a second, that our mother loved this business. We knew, when she was chasing us around backstage, that she missed the roar of the crowd and the flash of the lights. We knew that she would have done anything to able to spend equal amounts of time with us and with all of you.
"But my mom understood, and taught us, that sometimes you make the tough choices, not because you want to, but because you have to. I love that my mom is beautiful, charismatic, sexy, and that all of you loved her for it." Kya's eyes rested on her father. His reassuring smile encouraged her to finish strong. "But I am more proud that she is a strong and intelligent woman who pushed herself to the brink of insanity so that I could stand here today, holding a belt that actually means something."
There was a thunder of applause from around the room, fans and wrestlers alike chanting for the woman who had yet to step foot into the ballroom. "I'm gonna lose it," Trish warned Hunter, who had somehow managed to find a box of tissues for her. "How the fuck am I supposed to go out there and give a speech now?"
"Come on, Trish," Hunter teased, giving her waist a little squeeze. "You are a piece of wrestling history, my friend. Go out there and accept it."
"Ladies and gentlemen," Kya finally spoke, when the cheers had died slightly, "it is my privilege, and my honor to present to you, for induction into the Hall of Fame, my mother, my hero, and the greatest Women's Champion in the history of the WWE – Trish Stratus."
Trish pushed off of Hunter's shoulder on shaky legs and made her way to the curtain. With one final deep breath, she stepped onto the stage and waved, as the crowd jumped to its feet. She moved toward Kya and hugged her tightly. "You were great," she whispered, rubbing a maternal hand over her daughter's back.
"Better than you will be," Kya challenged. There was no denying that she was her father's daughter, with her long legs, broad shoulders, and model features. But as Trish pulled back from the hug, she just rolled her eyes at the raised eyebrow and the cocky grin that the woman was shooting her.
It was all Randy could do to stay in his place. His nineteen-year-old sons flanked him on either side. Twins Connor and Riley, were OVW tag team champions, preparing for a move to the big stage. His daughter was the WWE Women's Champion. And his wife had beaten him once again – this time into the Hall of Fame. Nothing in his life, or his career, had ever made him more proud than he was at that moment.
Stepping to the microphone, Trish waited for the crowd to be seated and then cleared her throat. Giving them her best giggle, she sent them into a frenzy again, taking advantage of the opportunity to steal a glance at her husband and sons, while trying to calm her nerves.
On Sunday, she would sit backstage and watch her little girl defend the Women's Championship on the grandest stage of them all. Monday, she would pretend to be surprised when the boys told her that they got a call-up from the minors to the big leagues. And on Tuesday, Randy would come home to Connecticut for three days of alone time.
But on Saturday evening, with a thousand Toronto fans screaming her name, and hundreds of thousands watching at home, she fumbled through a speech about how she had never regretted any of her decisions, and how she had loved entertaining them as much as they loved watching her do it.
After a late dinner with their kids and some old friends, Randy and Trish locked the door of their hotel for the night. "So," Randy sighed, loosening his tie and turning to face his wife.
She sank to the bed and let her arms fall to her sides. "I'm exhausted," she smiled, lying back on the soft mattress. "Take my shoes off, baby?"
Randy knelt on the floor by the bed and rested her foot against his leg, working his large hands over the buckle. "You know I'm only doin' this so you'll return the favor after my match tomorrow, right?"
For a moment, she just stared at the ceiling, thinking about the twenty-four years they had spent together. Tomorrow night, he would run into that ring and take on some punk ass kid with a cocky grin and a hell of a lot of talent. Her husband had gone from the Legend Killer to a true Legend, just like she had always known he would. "You know I'd do that anyway," she groaned as he massaged the arch of her foot slowly.
He smiled when she opened her eyes and met his deviant stare. There was something in his mind. Something that would, no doubt, hinder her ability to walk straight in the morning. "I love you," was all he said, dropping her foot and crawling onto the bed beside her.
"Can I ask you a question?" She rose to her knees in front of him and ran her fingernails over his neck, and through his hair, before resting her palms on his cheeks. Nodding, he kissed her quickly again. "You ever think we'd make it this far?"
"Well," Randy laughed and pulled her little body on top of his as he fell back on the bed. Pushing her hair behind her ears, he ran a finger over her bottom lip and considered her for a moment. He answered with a Legend Killer grin, "I decided a long time ago that I wasn't gonna let you go, so yeah."
She wrapped her arms around his neck as he flipped them over and started to slide the straps of her dress down her arms. Giggling as his lips found the sensitive skin in the hollow of her throat, she realized something. It was good to be Trish fuckin' Stratus.