Trish walked back and forth, arms waving. She was back at her condo, still dressed in funeral black, still wearing heels that clicked against the tile of the kitchen floor. They were pretty sure that the house was empty of anymore spy equipment. Since finding the first camera, Randy had called someone in and the place had been swept. She was told that there was no one spying on her anymore. They had found six more cameras and four listening devices, including a camera in the bathroom perched above the shower head.

Yeah, she thought, and they wonder why I'm so uncomfortable.

She trapsed across the floor, shaking her head as her arms settled at her side. She turned to face Randy. "I'm telling you, I saw Christian."

He groaned and leaned back in the chair. They were all overwhelmed with Ric's death, but she seemed to be the worst off. He couldn't really blame her, though, since she was wracked with guilt. He and the others had all pretty much figured that this had something to do with her and their own mutual associations with Christian. They all shared the blame, but none of the others were seeing things.

"That's not possible," Randy said, bending forward. He rested his arms on the kitchen table. "Christian's dead, Trish."

"I know that!" She stopped walking and slammed her fists down on the table. "I was there! I picked out his suit! I gave his eulogy and I cried over his grave until it was dark and they told me I had to leave! I know he's dead!"

Though her outfit was completely put together and there wasn't a hair out of place, there was no mistaking the frantic look in her eyes. Inside, beneath the designer clothes and expensive jewelry, she was a wreck, and only her eyes reflected that.

"What do you want me to say, Trish? You're right? You saw Christian? Sorry, babe, but I can't do that. Somebody's gotta be fucking with your head."

"Fucking with my head..." She turned around, then started pacing again. "Maybe it's Christian. Maybe he's not really dead, and he expected me to figure it out, but when I didn't, he came back for revenge." She turned back to Randy. "Maybe he thinks we were in on something to get rid of him and now he wants us all dead."

"You heard this guy's voice, Trish. You didn't recognize it."

"Maybe he had one of those voice things, like they had in Scream?" She shook her head. "Christian had a key to this place. How'd he get in if he didn't have the key?"

"The same way he got into Ric's place. He picked the lock."

"But, I never got Christian's key back. It wasn't in his things when I got 'em from the cops. Maybe Christian has come back to haunt me. Maybe I'm losing my mind. Maybe I'm in a bad horror flick and any minute, Christian's gonna pop up behind you with a hook in his hand and..."

"And maybe," Randy interrupted her, "you just saw somebody who looked like Christian. Maybe you're feeling guilty about Ric, and you just thought it was Christian."

Trish started to protest, but Randy had a point. She had been standing next to Stacy, talking to her, when she saw the apparition. Everyone but Stacy knew that this had something to do with Trish, and maybe she felt guilty standing there and giving condolensces when she was partially to blame.

Now that she thought about it, the man she saw had longer hair. But... she could have sworn it was Christian, anyway. He used to have long hair before he cut it off. He'd taken a trip up North and come back with the urge to change his appearance. She had missed his hair, but he still looked nice with it so short. And yet, on the other hand, enough time had passed. If Christian really were still alive and had come back for revenge, there would have been plenty of time for him to grow his hair back out. Maybe he wanted it long again, because she had grown to love it short.

Trish shook her head and sighed. "I saw somebody," she said softly, pulling out a chair. She sat down and dropped her head onto the table. "I... I know I saw somebody. It wasn't just an illusion."

Randy sighed and stood up. He walked around the table and stood behind Trish. His fingers gripped her shoulders and he tried to squeeze the tension out. "You saw somebody, but it wasn't Christian. You know, deep down, that Christian is gone."

"Maybe I should tell Benoit..."

"Tell him what? You saw Christian at Ric Flair's funeral?" Randy snorted. "I don't think that's gonna go over very well, babe. Besides, you told him all he needs to know. You told him about the calls and the camera, and the rest of it... We've got people out on the prowl. This guy'll turn up, then we'll take care of him. In the mean time..." He reached into his pocket and put something in front of Trish. "Take this."

Trish lifted her head and looked at the small bottle. "Randy..."

"It's not what you're thinking. It's Valium. I had Dave pick it up for me." She turned her head to him and he sighed. "You need some rest. And you're not the only one. Hunter's probably shoved a couple down Stacy's throat already. The both of you need some sleep."

"And you? What are you gonna do?"

"I need to get some things from home and make some calls, then I'll be back later on tonight." Randy took the bottle and poured out two pills. "Just take this, alright? Take it and get in the bed."

Trish was wary, but she did need the rest. Her body ached with tire, physical and emotional, and she figured sleep would help. With a sigh, she took the pills from him, then waited as he got her a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Trish swallowed the pills, then let Randy walk her into the bedroom.

The two said their goodbyes, and by the time Randy had her undressed and beneath the covers, she was almost asleep. She watched him go through blinking eyes, then pulled the blanket up around her neck. She was tired and she needed sleep... she just hoped that she wouldn't be seeing Christian again any time soon.

...go back