A/N: First off, thank you so much to my reviewers: DarkAngelElektra, TrishOrton, and Carly . You guys are awesome for taking the time out to do that. Also, I got an e-mail asking me what said time-line is for this… I don't really know to tell you the truth. As a matter of fact, it doesn't have one. Imagine these events as pending in the actual WWE universe.

I leave you to your reading! ;)

Night Full of Interruptions

John Cena's eyes were wide in horror and his fists pounded into Stephanie McMahon's desk angrily. "What?" his voice thundered in the general managers' office. One of his hands moved up to adjust his signature cap anxiously. His chest rose and fell heavily, as if each breath pained him. Stephanie on the other hand, was calm and collected though for a moment Cena's outburst had startled her visibly.

Stephanie raised a perfectly groomed brow and did not stir in her seat from behind the table. "I'm sorry John I really I am," her voice barely conveyed remorse. "But in the end it wasn't my decision. I fought for you, I really did. You're an asset to the Raw brand, but in the end my father has the final say…" she trialed off and shrugged her shoulders slightly. Heaving a heavy sigh she continued, cutting off Cena who had already opened his mouth to speak.

"I know what you're going to say. It has nothing to do with the fact the fact that you're moving to SmackDown, but the fact that you have to relinquish your World Heavyweight Title-"

The arena shook with the roar of an outraged crowd. Boo's and chants of 'Cena!' flooded every corner of the Continental Airlines Arena in East Rutherford, New jersey. Stephanie had paused to let the crowd have their moment before she began again. "I wish I didn't have to strip you of your title, but there is no way SmackDown is going to hold both the WWE Title and the World Heavyweight Title." She could see John was searching for a rebuttal but she put her hand up to silence him. "The only thing I can do for you is let you choose the two men who will wrestle for your title… next week on Raw." Her last words punctured the air and John, having left his beloved title belt draped over the armrest of a chair, stormed out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him. That was that.

The cameras turned off and John walked back into the room. Stephanie laughed as Cena reentered and moved to take hold of the table and shaking it slightly, checked for any damage.

"I swear, John, I thought that table was going to break," her face was bright and her characters cold demeanor was broken. John's façade was much the same as his boss's. The anger and disappointment which had been moments before written all over his face had disappeared and he was jovially still making sure the table was in sound condition.

The cameras were elsewhere now, and the show was continuing; the superstars were all in their kayfabe glory. But in the Raw general manager's office everything was as it was behind the scenes. Cena wasn't really mad at Steph for moving him to SmackDown and had known about this for a while now, it was all for the fans and the cameras.

Although it seems easy enough, plenty of work from both the Superstars and the writers goes into a good and even a not so good story-line. To freshen things up, Cena, the current cash-cow, was being sent over to SmackDown which had gotten the shorter straw after the draft… which was another fallacy. Again though, it was all for the sake of the fans. If any of them wanted to see actual fighting and no 'twist-and-turn' storyline, they'd be watching a UFC fight… what was the fun in that? In fact, Stephanie found it borderline barbaric. At the very least with the WWE, entertainment would ensue whether you liked X fighter or not, because there was a huge roster ready in the wake to be the next big thing.

"Well John, I've got to prepare for my next promo, so if you don't mind…" she trailed off and nodded to the door, finally getting back into GM mode.

With a dry-- but sincere-- smile, Cena exited the room to go make sure he was on task for the night's transgressions.

In his designated dressing room was Chris Irvine dressed in a black suit, a powder blue dress shirt underneath. He sat upon the ever-present bench and let his head hang low. He was slowly slipping into character. Christopher, the man outside the ring, was slowly being locked behind a prison cell by his alter ego, Jericho. Jericho was the man who eyed everyone with derision and thrived off of power. His ambition had no limits and his arrogance had no bounds.

Slowly, Chris had come to love his in-ring persona. It was easy to make a crowd love you. With enough of a push from the production team and the McMahon's, anyone could be cheered. Give a nice guy a belt and like Pavlov's test subjects, audiences salivated at the sound of said superstars' entrance theme. But to make an entire viewership loathe you was another story all together. If you were simply disliked, you and your character were thrown to the wayside and almost ignored by fans. But to create real heat, well it took someone like Chris Jericho, if he did say so himself. At the moment though, his musings were cut short by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He'd get into character sooner or later, he presumed.

Righting himself, he was met by a familiar face peaking into the space left by his slightly ajar door. Hazel eyes smiled at him and lush blonde locks framed a stunningly beautiful face. Chris couldn't help but crack a grin.

"It's polite to knock, Trish," Jericho spoke in a light tone, but the smirk was not far from the corners of his lips.

"I know," the female blonde started casually. "But I have some notes fresh from the writers," she added with a mirthful chuckle. "Looks like we're at it again." Still not having been invited inside, she opened the door further and stood at its threshold. An arm outstretched, Trish held in her hand what looked to be between three or four sheets of printed paper.

He beckoned her inside and she obliged quietly. Extending the small stack of papers his way, Chris took them and thanked her with a silent nod. For the time being, Trish contented herself with the silence between them. There was a slight air of awkwardness but she seemed to be its only causality.

Chris read with what seemed to be frightening speed and Trish enjoyed watching him drink up the words. His blue eyes were narrowed ever so slightly in concentration and a tiny little crease formed between his brows. She couldn't help but let out a stray chuckle, one which he didn't seem to notice.

He was absolutely adorable, she concluded.

But as her analysis of his little idiosyncrasies continued she found herself relaxing as she took in his features more seriously. There was nothing 'pretty' about him, but there was this undeniably endearing quality to his face. The planes and angles were all masculine but none were too sharp or too harsh. His downcast eyes only allowed a slight shadow of his blue hues behind his blonde lashes. As if on cue, Chris licked his lips briefly as he turned a page nonchalantly. Trish's eyes automatically moved to his mouth and she found herself knowing she would be hard pressed to find a woman who didn't fall prey to his killer smirks. Letting her eyes flicker further she took in the sight of his formal dress. The man could wear a suit, and his body seemed perfect for its European cut. Strong shoulders and back, she stopped herself there. It was one thing to analyze his looks, it was quite another to ogle him.

All of this took place over the course of a couple moments. But it would be pivotal in hindsight.

"You don't have to read it all now, you know that right?" she heard her voice strained and it almost foreign to her. Her inspection of 'Y2J' had perhaps left her a bit flustered, but nothing she couldn't brush off. She understood that a certain sort of attraction to any man was feasible; she just had to stay at an arms distance. She was well aware of how many good-looking men pranced around the WWE in what in essence was spandex underwear. Trish had grown used to seeing them and merely viewing them through the eyes of a spectator, one who would never partake in the actual sport.

Her character might have jumped from one man to another, but Trish outside of the ring was a loyal and loving wife, who had the misfortune of being surrounded by the barely clothed men aforementioned. It was unfortunate simply because she didn't have her man with her to satisfy any needs that might boil up inside of her. Of course though, trips home and visits from Josh would sate her for some time… only to have the cycle begin again.

His attention sparked back up to Trish upon hearing her voice and a smile replaced his usual clever-looking grin. "I'm aware," he said simply and eyed the last sheet in his hand. "For about three and a half pages of writing, there's practically nothing here," he said with a scoff. "Just another vacant plot about arm candy- not that I mind," he added with an obviously playful and innocent wink.

The only blond female in the room chuckled awkwardly and clasped her arms behind her back, eyeing him. She hadn't really been able to get a good read on him yet. Years back, when they had done 'The Bet' angle, their interaction had been limited to that of on screen. Chris always seemed to focus on her when the cameras were on, when it was time to put on a show, but other than that he seemed to want to retain a working relationship which teetered on friendly and basically indifferent.

He didn't seem that way now and she was a bit surprised by the change. He seemed a bit haughtier, yes, but if it made any sense, much nicer. Civility was often cold, and it was nice knowing he was making an effort to befriend her. Being a naturally sociable person, Trish took it as an invitation to perhaps pester him in the future for the hell of it, strike up a friendship like that of other superstars.

Clearing her throat, she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the smooth velvet voice she was growing accustomed to hearing, no matter that this was only their second meeting in years.

"I'm already involved with the whole Cena leaving Raw business, so this is either going to go nowhere, or segway into another romance angle for us," he said glancing down at the stack of printed notes. "It says here we're free to 'bring back past elements' so I'm guessing we aren't supposed to be the best of friends in the beginning." Somehow, looking down at the generic computer typeface, very few important points were made; most of it was filler

Apparently for her comeback match in two weeks, Trish would face-- surprise-- Beth Phoenix. Beth would get the win, but to push for a more serious Heel, Santino would help Beth in attacking Trish. Who else to come rescue the damsel in distress but the man who had at one time, kayfabe, fallen in love with her?

Jericho found it to be a little out of character but seeing as creative wanted him to turn Face, what better way to do it than to come to the aide of the most popular Diva ever? It was pretty much the gist of what would happen, and then… blank. They would either receive some more notes or have to help creative themselves as many superstars often did. They were mindful and respectful toward the crew behind the scenes but were fully aware that they often needed to help get their character over a slump or even just out of a crappy storyline.

"Well, I know I interrupted you while you were getting in the zone and everything," her head swayed slightly and Trish's eyes grew wide momentarily. Jericho was aware she was mocking him and all he could do was laugh and wave her off playfully. "And we can talk about our storyline some other time when you're not busy…" with a giggle she parted and left without a verbal goodbye.

Chris watched her turn and leave, his eyes sweeping over her form briefly before the door shut behind the Diva. That Josh was one lucky bastard…

For now, Chris wasn't too preoccupied with his plot with Trish because he was more so focused on the whole Cena leaving business. SmackDown's dire need of more main-eventers had meant a main-eventer from Raw would get 'surplused'. For some time, Chris had thought he would be it. It wouldn't have bothered him too much, but he was much to used to knowing that 'Raw was and is Jericho'. Sending him to SmackDown was like making James Bond an American… it just wouldn't work.

Thankfully, Cena was the one who would push SmackDown and hopefully boost ratings. This would be no trouble for the, soon to be, former champ. But this also meant that someone else on Raw would get the belt. While no news was given to him as to who else would be partaking in the drama to ensue, Chris was already hinted as to being a key-player.

That was all he wanted.

Chris didn't need to win the belt, he just wanted to be there and know he played a part in WWE history. His love for the business was one which was more than just a little unselfish. Obviously, his personality and passion had let him become The First Ever Undisputed Champion, along with the several other title reigns and accolades.

Of course, such dedication to ones craft didn't come without a price. His marriage had been payment, and now this was all he had. Not one to wallow in self pity though, Chris stood up after a couple moments of indecision and decided to mingle with the crew and wrestlers. He didn't have much to do until near the end of the show, so for now he had time to kill.

After leaving Chris's locker room, Trish Stratus was pleased to hear that her being backstage had not reached the fans out in the arena or a glitch in a camera had caught her cavorting around out of character. Her debut in two weeks was something Trish had been looking forward to since she had re-signed with the WWE, and she wanted it to be absolutely perfect. Behaving like an excited teen rather than a seasoned adult, she could barely wait to make it back to the ring. Sure, her first night out would end in defeat but she had the pleasure of getting saved by one of the biggest superstars on Raw. Chris Frikken Jericho.

It was one thing to be arm candy for a mid-carder and be filler, it was quite another to have a romantic angle with someone who was carrying the show. It obviously didn't hurt that she had been stuck with someone like Chris. He was a nice guy, a dedicated guy, and an attractive guy. She was sure other Divas would've done unspeakable things to get a storyline like that. She was Trish Stratus and she was considered by many the best Diva, post Attitude Era. She had paid her dues, and in thanks for coming back to a lacking female roster, was awarded a storyline which would hopefully turn into something interesting.

Upon arriving to her desired destination, the women's locker room, she entered it in what could only be described as a chipper mood. Inside were the various Raw Divas in different levels of undress. There was no bad blood between any of the Divas but it was obvious that like High School, it was a bit clique-y. Beth Phoenix, Layla, and Melina were on one side chatting it up and helping each other pull laces, hook straps, and zip up tops. On the opposite side, were Kelly Kelly, Mickie James, Candice Michelle, and Jillian. A couple faces turned to see who had walked in and she was met with smiles and murmurs of 'good to see you' and 'what's up'. Stepping in further, Trish took a seat closer to the Beth posse.

"I'm assuming you got some notes for my debut?" No use in circling the topic, Trish figured. Beth's face was passive; she was obviously not in promo mode, trying to intimidate an opponent.

A much nicer person than people gave her credit for, Beth smiled and nodded. Unlike her character, Mrs. Phoenix wasn't some mean hearted individual with only the Women's Championship on her mind, and she certainly wasn't dating Santino. "Yeah, you get your ass kicked," she said with a chuckle, adjusting the bust area of her ring attire.

Soft laughter followed, and Trish took part in it as well. She wasn't above laughing at her personas demise on her debut.

"You're not going to take my belt that easy," Beth added with a smirk. "Not that you should be complaining seeing as whose going to save you from Anthony, anyway." Anthony was of course Santino. At the Glamazon's mysterious response the other Divas were suddenly curious.

Kelly, with a mischievous grin hopped over with one boot in hand and the other dragging its laces upon the concrete floor. "Trish Stratus saved by someone?" Looking over at the women she had left on the other side of the room, they all looked just as interested as she was. "Who is this savior?"

At the 'savior' reference, Trish laughed she received odd looks from the women in the locker room. "The answer is the code," she added, not being able to help herself and point out yet another reference. For a moment, her laughter died down and she was suddenly aware that she had remembered a rather insignificant detail from Jericho's return to Raw… It was merely a random statement on the Titantron before the man of the hour had arrived.

The only Diva that got the second reference right off the bat was Layla and she let out what could be considered a squee. "Chris Jericho?" A wide spread over the Brit's face and she licked her lips briefly. "Good job," she added with a nod.

"If I had to choose someone to save me, Chris would be near the top of my list," Mickie James piped up. "He's hot and he knows where to draw the line between a storyline and real life," she elaborated.

"But more importantly, he's hot," Melina said under her breath, but was heard nonetheless. There were murmurs of approbation from all the women. Trish had never been aware that Jericho was considered eye candy to these women. They were usually falling over themselves for Randy, John, and Big Dave. It seemed like the title of Sexy Beast was deserved. Not that Trish was arguing said point…

"Now, now girls. Control your selves," Trish said wagging a finger in mock disproval. "I'm a married woman and Chris is a colleague."

Trish heard a scoff behind her and turned to see who was guilty. She couldn't pin-point the source of said sound and brushed it off. "Anyway there isn't much more to the storyline, creative is still trying to figure out stuff for us to do."

"I know what you-"

"Don't even start," Trish cut off Candice with a chuckle.

You'd think these women had never heard of a business relationship… or a faithful marriage.

It wasn't until the end of that night's tapping that anything of real importance happened. It was time for Cena to announce who would be the competitors that would vie for his cherished World Heavyweight Championship title. Making his entrance, fans jumped to their feet and cheered as if he were the very messiah. Saluting the fans that made him the star he was today, John made his way down the ramp with a face grave and saddened. Inside the ring, he did his usual little ditty but there was obviously more emotion in it than usual.

John Cena could sell 'goodbye' rather well, no matter he was just switching brands.

Lillian Garcia, who had been near ringside, handed John a microphone so he could direct his attention to the GM behind the scenes, the fans, and the superstars. He smiled internally as he became duly aware that he had not really thought of what to say. He had already been told by production who he was supposed to choose, but had only been directed to be as dramatic as possible. Maybe he should've been better prepared? Alas, it was too late now.

The crowd seemed to grow listless and some of the more obnoxious fans were already trying to start a chant of 'Cena Sucks!' So far, their attempts were for naught. Finally, the man of the hour spoke up:

"I tried you guys, I really did. But it just wasn't enough. I'm sure you all have bosses and when your job is on the line, you've got to do what you've got to do."

It should come as no surprise that Cena was getting boo's from the crowd. They couldn't understand how their champ could possibly let himself be bartered off in exchange for nothing.

"You guys know and I know that going to SmackDown isn't the end the end of the world… My belt though… it has to stay here-" Cut off by more boo's, he didn't allow the spectators a moment to settle down, instead he pushed forward with his little 'on-the-fly' monologue.

"There's nothing I can say that will change my fate, so I'll just get down to the nitty-gritty."

With a melodramatic sigh, he licked his lips and rubbed the back of his head,

"The two contenders who will be fighting for my belt next week are…"

Before Cena could finish his announcement loud familiar music came over the speakers. 'Break The Walls Down' thundered in the arena and a strange mix of cheers and boo's sounded along with the pounding beats of said song. Chris Jericho walked down the ramp with his signature scowl upon his lips. Furrowed brows only accentuated the bitterness of his character. Half-way down the ramp, his well dressed form stopped and he brought to his mouth a microphone he had carried with him.

"I don't mean to interrupt-" Chris cut himself off with a short scoff "- Well, I do, but that's beside the point." More boo's than cheers were heard at this point, and Jericho internally relished in how much heat he could muster up from a crowd. "You see, I should be the second name you utter to this ignorant crowd and that equally ignorant Stephanie McMahon." Always antagonizing the GM, the character of Jericho would one day get a taste of his own medicine… but not today.

"Chris, I'm going to choose whoever I want to," Cena said passionately, slapping chest to reiterate the ardor of his character, hearing the fans back him up with fervent cheers of 'Cena, Cena!'

Raising a single brow, Chris nodded and squared his body, defying Cena's words with his posture. A true performer, Chris understood the psychology of his craft to the T. "You sure you're going to make the right decision?" he countered. "You say you love these fans," Jericho scoffed one more time and glanced at his side briefly to counter a fans jeer with a glare. Again, the art of being a good Heel. "Then don't they deserve the best?"

A slightly confused look came over John's face and moved to lean on the ropes facing Chris. He said nothing.

With a satisfied grin, Chris continued. "Instead of choosing a couple of your buddies, why don't you choose someone who can carry the belt with pride, a true champion? A guy who can give the fans exactly what they deserve. A guy, well, a guy like me." He ended on a high note and had the inkling of a smile, but it was much too sinister to be considered one.

Her music had not come on, so it was a surprise to everyone when Stephanie McMahon came out with microphone in hand. "No, no, no, Jericho." Unlike John and Chris who had pretty much improvised their speeches, Steph had hers memorized. She felt she worked best with a script. "This doesn't concern you, Chris. Now why don't you go backstage and whine to someone else."

The crowd seemed to agree with the GM and John, still in the ring, nodded his approval.

Chris narrowed his eyes at Stephanie who stood beside him and his lip curled into a sneer. "Don't you have some superstars to fu-"

Yet another interruption sounded as 'Voices' came over the sound system. Chris rolled his eyes and buried his fingers into his short blonde hair. An exasperated John Cena paced in the ring, wanting the evening to end already.

Making his entrance, Randy Orton, dressed formally much like Chris, stopped right at the top of the entrance. Opening his mouth to speak, Stephanie wanted nothing of it.

"Orton and Jericho, get out! This-" he motioned to John and herself angrily "-doesn't concern either of you!"

Already seething, Randy spoke into the microphone, his tone knotted tight as if he would snap at any moment. "But you're wrong, Stephanie. This does concern us. Chris and I, if anything, are the only two qualified superstars on this roster to fight for that belt."

"I agree," piped up Jericho, nodding over at Orton in a 'you're right', type way.

"Well I don't care what you boys want," Steph interjected, walking toward the ring and eventually into it. "As GM, I'm giving John the authority to choose who he wants to fight for the World Heavyweight Championship. So the both of you can go back to-"

It truly was a night full of interruptions.

"You're going to give up a chance to change WWE history to keep a surplused wrestler happy?" chuckled Chris, his face amused and cruel. "You really are a sorry GM." Turning his back to the holy pair inside the ring, he knew it was only a matter of moments before one of them spoke up.

"And exactly what would you do, Chris?" Cena took the bait like a fish eyeing a worm on a hook.

Randy who had been quiet, waiting for the right moment to talk was still watching the situation with apprehensive eyes. "Now, Chris…" Randy trialed off, eyeing the only man he ever seemed to agree on anything with.

"Don't worry, this'll be good for both of us," assured Y2J, dismissing the Legend Killer with a wave of his hand. "Why not just have John's first pick fight Randy… Have John's second pick fight me… And whoever wins those matches will battle it out for the title."

A curious look came over Stephanie's face and it was obviously making John anxious. Keeping the microphone away from his mouth, John was muttering nervously into Steph's ear. It was obvious the soon to be former champ was trying to talk the GM out of her decision.

The crowd was growing impatient and the rumble of dissatisfaction was audible. Dropping her mic to her side she turned to counter whatever Cena was saying. After a couple moments of this, Stephanie turned back to the pair of Heels who were awaiting patiently the course of their futures. John, with his head hung low, sighed and had obviously lost the argument with his boss.

"Alright. Randy you will be fighting… CM Punk for the chance at the title belt!" Fans in every corner of the arena cheered for the Straight Edge superstar. As well they should.

"And you, Jericho will be fighting Rey Mysterio!" Once again, an electric jolt shot up through the spines of every fan in the vicinity.

It was obvious why the character of John Cena had chosen Punk and Rey as contenders for the belt. Both were 'good guys' with work ethic and heart. But those two against the biggest Heels on Raw would be quite interesting. The ultimate evil against the ultimate good.

Jericho's theme blared through the speakers and with a small nod in thanks to Stephanie McMahon, made his exit, Orton on his heels after a reptilian smirk sent to Cena who was obviously perturbed by the night's events.

The camera's shut off and such ended that taping of Raw: With Chris Jericho's music and John Cena's frowning fare well.

A/N: Hope you liked this chapter, please R&R! Oh, and this chapter was about half-way on Jan 12th which means any details pertaining to Jericho's plot in the WWE from then on will play no part in this fic.