HAPPENSTANCE
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the wrestlers in this story. I'd like to believe they own themselves but... that might be a little naïve, what with WWE trademarking anything they can get their hands on these days. There is one character I do own, however, but I won't spoil the story by naming him. You'll figure it out.
A/N: Due to the overwhelming requests for a sequel to 'Best Deceptions', I finally put my thinking cap (headphones) on and listened to my muse (otherwise known as Fozzy). Hopefully this one-shot answers some questions and doesn't disappoint. Let me know what you think.
Trish stood quietly in a grove of trees, watching as Chris's casket was lowered into the ground. She was alone, yet not, all at the same time. Her arms wrapped around her midsection, trying to generate a little warmth. Canada wasn't the warmest place in the world but that's where Chris was being buried.
Trish bowed her head, remembering Adam's voice over the cellphone that day. He'd sounded broken. And why shouldn't he have been broken? He had witnessed one of his best friend's final moments and they hadn't been good. Adam had refused to speak to her since, as had most others. The only one who seemed to care now was Jeff Hardy.
Looking up again, Trish locked eyes with Jeff. He was standing next to his brother, his arm across Matt's shoulders. He offered Trish a slight smile but she shook her head. Jeff excused himself from his brother and headed towards her, unnoticed by anyone else. They were all too deep in their grief.
Jeff stopped in front of Trish and locked eyes with her again. Trish wished he wouldn't see the guilt she felt showing in her eyes but he was the one person that knew her better than anyone now that Chris was gone.
"How you holding up?" Jeff asked quietly, already aware of the answer. Trish's eyes were red and puffy, her make up ruined beyond repair.
"I'm alive and he's not. How do you think I'm holding up?" Trish retorted. Jeff pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back.
"It's not your fault, Trish. How could you have known he'd react that way?" He challenged.
"How the hell was he supposed to react? I abandoned him to spend 2 weeks alone in the Bahamas, locked in my hotel room, crying myself to sleep every night. I didn't call him at all. I didn't call him when I got back. I acted like nothing had happened. I killed him, Jeff. I know it, Adam knows it, everyone else knows it." Trish sobbed.
"Trish, if he'd known why, he would have understood. If he'd held on a little longer, you would have told him everything." Jeff urged.
"Would I? Jeff, I'm gutless. I would have backed out before I told him anything. I would have killed him sooner or later. It should be me in that coffin." Trish replied defiantly.
"Stop it. I don't want to hear any more. You have something to live for, Trish. If you can't live for me, live for that." Jeff blurted before walking back to the graveside.
Trish took his words in and held her head a little higher. Jeff was her best friend, he knew things no one else did. He knew how to get into her head, and her heart. She wrapped her arms around her midsection again and sighed, the tears still rolling down her cheeks.
"Why couldn't I have told him about that, Jeff? Why couldn't I have given Chris something to live for?" Trish whispered softly before turning away from the sight of the grave in front of her.
As she turned, Trish caught a familiar scent in the air. It was unmistakable. He was there. A warmth crept over her, as if someone had wrapped their arms around her.
"Chris." Trish murmured. A slight breeze blew across her cheek, as if he was there with her.
"I need you to know why I went to the Bahamas, Chris. I got some news that scared me more than a little and I needed time to think. But when I was away, all I could think about was you, all I wanted was you. I wanted you to hold me, to tell me things would be okay. Coming back was the easiest choice I had to make." Trish took a deep breath. The warmth was still with her, the scent of Chris's cologne still lingering.
"The news I got... it was pretty big. I just wish I'd had a chance to tell you while you were here, wish I'd taken a chance. You're going to be a father, babes. I'm having your child." Trish finally got the words out.
As she stood in the harsh cold just outside the graveyard where her true love was being buried, Trish felt something brush her cheek. She closed her eyes and could almost imagine Chris's hand there.
A moment later, the sensation was gone and the cold slowly seeped back in. Trish opened her eyes, a small smile on her lips. Chris had heard her. He knew. Trish laughed through the tears still rolling down her cheeks before walking away.
SIX AND A HALF MONTHS LATER:
Trish pushed with all her might, clinging on to Jeff for dear life. She felt like she was about to pass out but knew she had to stay strong, had to finish what had started almost eighteen hours earlier.
"Alright, we're almost done here! Trish, you have a beautiful baby boy! Jeff, would you like to cut the cord?" Trish's chosen midwife asked quickly.
Jeff looked down at Trish and she nodded weakly so he complied with the doctor's instructions. Once the baby had been checked over, cleaned and wrapped in a blanket, he was placed in Trish's arms. Trish looked down at the newborn and felt an undeniable wave of love. This was swiftly followed by the unmistakable scent of cologne that was clearly not Jeff's.
"Chris." Trish whispered, knowing again that he was there.
"Is that what you're going to name him?" Jeff wondered, watching from beside her.
"Oh, uh... I don't know. I hadn't really thought about names." Trish admitted.
She couldn't take her eyes off her baby boy. He had Chris's nose, no mistaking it. His eyes were blue but Trish wondered if that would change in time. Staring down at him, a name popped into her head.
"Christopher Nero Stratigias. Welcome to the world, baby boy." Trish smiled. Jeff laughed a little.
"Nice name. Are you sure you want to use Nero though?" He wondered.
"Of course I'm sure. You are going to be his favourite uncle, after all." Trish replied with certainty.
"Then I think it's perfect. He looks like a mini Chris, all red and wrinkly." Jeff joked.
"Don't make fun of my son and his father. I'll have you know they're both very handsome." Trish reprimanded. Jeff laughed.
TWO YEARS LATER:
One morning, Trish was running late in getting to the airport for her flight out to join the rest of the WWE roster for a joint PPV. Nothing seemed to be going her way. She'd misplaced her ticket, spilled coffee down her top and then had to change clothes again when little Christopher had thrown his breakfast bowl at her. Now, she'd found the tickets and looked presentable again. The only thing left to do was collect her son from his room and get him strapped into the car.
Opening the door to the nursery, Trish caught a whiff of a strong smell, almost overpowering. Cologne. Confused by this, Trish stopped for a moment and looked over at the playpen that her son was currently standing up inside of. Christopher Nero Stratigias was looking at a spot on the wall across from him and laughing.
"Baby, what are you laughing at?" Trish wondered as she knelt down next to the playpen.
Christopher giggled, his blue eyes sparkling, and pointed over his mother's shoulder.
"Daddy!" He announced happily, in answer to his mother's question. Trish almost fainted on the spot.