A/N: First and foremost, Glamagirl, DarkAngelElektra, and dropkiss you guys are awesome and I send much love to all of you! In other news… Poor Chris! In my personal opinion (for those of you who know what I'm talking about) Chris did what he had to do when confronted by a mob of people who were getting physically violent. That particular woman (you know who) got what she deserved, and no one can make me think otherwise. Kudus to the WWE for siding with Chris!

I leave you to your reading! ;)

I Love You's

After weeks of preparation, of following the Raw superstars and not being able to take part, Patricia's time had finally come. Having poured herself into her ring attire, Trish looked better than ever. Long black and red tights were form fitted and her matching top was tight against the buxom beauty's ample chest. Eyeing herself in the mirror inside the women's locker room, her fingers nervously threaded into her blonde locks. She had her pre match jitters, as always, but was trying not to show it. Other Divas were still lounging around and doing nothing, but were watching Trish like hawks. Remember, there was no real animosity, but women were catty and especially in the WWE, where the next big push could be for you or your 'best friend'.

There were women on the Raw roster who felt they deserved the sort of push Trish was getting right off the bat. Obviously, their enmity toward the Canadian was blinding their judgment. If there was ever a more popular Diva than Trish, she had yet to arrive on the scene. As a Heel or a Face, Patricia's in-ring ability and her stunning looks were coupled with flawless promo work and charisma. If she did say so herself, if there was a Diva to give Beth a run for her money, it was her. A seven time women's champion and even a hardcore champion, none of the other women on the roster could possibly hope to achieve what she had. Perhaps this thinking came across as arrogant and haughty, but mind you, Trish was trying to psych herself up for her match.

No matter what she was thinking was true.

"You look fine, Trish," called a slightly peeved Candice. With her arms crossed and leaned back on the lockers, she looked uncomfortable and childish.

Ignoring the tone Candice had taken with her; Trish turned about face and smiled sincerely at the other woman. "It's not every day I get to return to Raw," she said simply. Adjusting her bottoms briefly, Trish decided it was best to shake off her jitters outside of the locker room. Flexing her fingers nervously and giving herself a final glance in the mirror she silently exited the confined space. She could've sworn she heard an angry grumble but she brushed the thought aside. Tonight was hers and no one was going to mess it up for her. Yes, she was going to lose, but she was finally home. Home is where the heart is, and for Trish, her heart was always going to be in the ring.

Out in the corridors she greeted those who worked backstage with a bright smile, receiving a couple hugs and 'good lucks'. Raw was live on such a Monday night and Trish could feel the electricity in the air, even backstage. The show had started two matches ago and everyone was busy making sure the show went off without a hitch. Not wanting to get in the way, she decided to go forth and comingle with her fellow wrestlers rather than interrupt the important members of the production team.

In the very back of her mind she subconsciously asked herself where Chris was. Without him, her losing to Beth was pretty much pointless. If she wasn't saved, then where did she go from there? She would surely be in the running for the belt again, she was Trish Stratus after all, but without a storyline it was merely a string of matches with no purpose. What was the fun in that?

Patricia had always appreciated the often 'soap opera-y' aspects of the WWE. Angles and storylines created icons or destroyed images. She had often been wrapped up in scripts which called for her to be the whimpering victim or the sexy siren, and she embraced it and everything in-between. She had yet to turn down a storyline, and to this day, many of the angles she partook in years ago, left fans wanting even more.

'Jericho' came into the picture in that respect.

Trish still remembered how much work it was to for her to quiet down the butterflies in her stomach after their first on screen kiss. She had kissed plenty of, then WWF, superstars ― as terrible as it sounded ― but the feeling she got from his lips was something which shook her. Back then, Chris was in a committed relationship to the woman who would become his wife and she… well, she was merely the bombshell he got to kiss and toy with on screen. Week in and week out, their plot twisted into something along the lines of 'Melrose Place'. The fans ate it up.

Eventually with Christian's injury, the angle was dropped and other feuds garnered their character's attention. Chris and Trish soon enough, merely smiled at each other in the backstage area or sent a greeting in passing.

Life moved on, as well it should. But now, years later, Trish was about to revive, not only her career, but the storyline which captured the minds of so many fans. In a funny sort of way, she felt like she was going to be able to meet Chris all over again and indulge in 'what could've been' for their characters and their characters alone…

In his wrestling attire, Chris 'Jericho' was coolly sipping from a water bottle. He had already shot his weekly 'I hate you Stephanie McMahon, watch me strut around attractively in an expensive suit' promo and the ever popular 'You fans are parasitic hypocrites' spot. He chuckled at the thought that they might be the last two of the sort he would do, at least for a long while. Looking forward to Trish's return, he was anxious to see and hear the attendees' reaction. He was easily one of the most hated Heels, and seeing him as an actual savior would be a stretch for the fans to buy into. But hey, if he could make them hate him, he could make them love him.

There was no better way for him to win the fans back. Surely the viewership would get déjà vu when they witnessed him coming to the aid for Trish Stratus once again as all those years ago; the most beautiful and talented woman to ever grace the WWE.

Eyeing the ground beneath his feet he let out a stray chuckle at his thinking. He placed her on a pedestal rather quickly had he not? But she really was gorgeous. His thoughts trailed off to two weeks ago when she had come to him with two magical little pills for his headache. So beguiling in her innocent gesture yet ever so tempting in her silken attire, he let himself ponder on what it would have been like to slowly undress her and-

"You know you're on in like fifteen minutes right?" said a very familiar voice.

Looking up, he grinned as Trish clasped her hands behind her and rolled on the balls of her feet. He eyed her childish posture and she took wind of it immediately. She stood up straight and pushed a couple stray locks of hair out of her face.

For some reason, Patricia suddenly felt inadequate around him. He always looked like a million bucks and reeked of money and power. The scent of haughty disdain threatened to suffocate her and she was perplexed by this feeling. Trish was sensing that air around his persona and she was taken aback at how well he portrayed his character. He had even fooled her for a second or two. Relaxing once she came to this realization, she continued:

"My match is up in a little bit and I just wanted to shake off the butterflies, you know?" She smiled up at him and it brightened when his hands came to rest on her shoulders. He shook her slightly and she couldn't help but laugh at his actions.

"Did that help?" Chris asked in a lightheartedly whiney and uncharacteristic voice.

"Not really," she responded with a playful frown. She felt his hands leave her bare shoulders and she suddenly missed the heat radiating off of his warm palms. Her thoughts quickly snapped back to her husband and she felt a pang of guilt hit her. She wasn't supposed to miss Chris's hands... she was supposed to miss Josh's. Nonetheless, her face did not fall as Chris smiled back at her.

"Have you stretched yet?" he asked after a small pause. He didn't want her pulling something or hurting herself on her return to Raw. That would not be a good way to start the rest of her wrestling career. Not that he should talk, he had had the Jericho Curse for years before it was finally lifted on his debut into the, then, WWF. Having had terrible first matches, it was only once he finally succeeded in acquiring his dream of wrestling for the WWF that he, you know, stopped fucking up his debut matches. And quite a debut it had been. Never had a wrestler gotten such a push in the past, and it was likely never to happen again.

Hearing his concern she titled her head slightly and watched him for a second. Was he being sincere? She scoffed at herself. Why would he not be? Chris had never shown any sort of ill feelings towards her and was a true gentleman. She had no reason to believe his question was anything but an effort to make sure she was on top of her game.

A subconscious part of her wanted to believe he was the douche he played on TV. Trish didn't want to find herself liking Chris the person anymore than she already did. He was a wonderful man who happened to be devastatingly handsome. Such a combination was hard to come by and she refused to be caught in the web of his charisma. Surely there would be no hope of escape if it came down to it. They were going to have a romance angle, and she had to do everything she could to keep her little crush in check. If it included questioning his sincerity, then so be it.

Her silence was thick and Chris let out a deep chuckle. "I'm going to assume you know what stretching is, and that you did it."

She didn't answer with words and instead patted his shoulder softly and turned to leave down the corridor they had been standing in. Her behavior seemed odd to Chris but he figured it was her nerves getting the best of her. He brushed off her speedy and silent exit and walked down the opposite end of the corridor.

Eventually, he would come across Phil or CM Punk as he's known, and stuck up an ordinary conversation which would keep him occupied till the time came to 'rescue' Trish.

To the flourish of her own music, Beth emerged from the curtain and onto the ramp with Santino and Rosa in tow. The arena, as of lately, was disinterested in the Diva's match to ensue. Expecting yet another Melina versus Beth match, the cheers and boos were passive and almost complacent.

Once inside the ring, Beth whispered conspiratorially to her cohorts and they sniggered maliciously. With a wave of her hand she dismissed them and they obediently moved to standby ringside. Santino and Rosa continued to mutter to each other and nodded in agreement. They were obviously plotting something and the camera remained on them long enough for everyone to catch on.

"I wonder who will wrestle Beth Phoenix tonight?" exclaimed Lawler through his headset. "This match was made last minute so it could be anyone. Hell, even Beth is in the dark as to who it could be! " King's excited voice was shrill but familiar. He knew all too well who would wrestle the Glamazon, and if King weren't always this excitable, perhaps someone would've suspected something.

Before Michael Cole could get a word in, the lights suddenly went out in the arena. There was a tense moment of expectation. As far as the fans could remember, no current Diva's entrance was that dramatic. The trademark giggles came on the sound speakers and the arena erupted in cheers. On their feet, the crowd popped for Miss Stratus. Incredibly, very little news about Trish's return to Raw was leaked and those that did disclose said information were brushed off. Surprise, surprise, the blonde bombshell had indeed arrived and was there, not to save, but to be saved. Eventually though, she'd receive an authentic chance of obtaining the title belt. But in the mean time she was going to enjoy the reemergence of on-screen romance. The WWE had been missing that factor for a while now; Patricia was happy to fill the void.

At that moment though, all Trish could think about was how amazing it felt to see people on their feet, chanting her name. Chills ran up and down her spine and her smile was so wide it almost hurt. Her face alight with the pure thrill of it all, she brought a microphone to her mouth from her position halfway down the ramp. "You know, Beth, I've been getting sick and tired of you," she said with a steely glare into the ring. From the inside of the squared circle, she could see Beth scowling dramatically at her. "I'm so sick in fact, that I've come back to shut you up!"

With those simple words, she dropped the mic and charged for the ring. The cheers from the fans fueled her further and she wanted to give them the show they'd all been missing. The moment she slipped under the bottom rope and into the ring she felt boots come down onto her ribs. Beth worked a bit stiff and it didn't take too much effort from Trish's part to sell them.

Getting pulled to her feet by the Glamazon, she was whipped towards the ropes and propelling herself forward was able to clothesline her larger opponent. Quickly falling upon the felled woman, Trish pummeled her with closed fists. Vivacious intensity seeped from her pores and it was a true spectacle to watch the returning blond Diva do what she was born to do.

The match continued and they seemed to be pretty evenly matched throughout it. Just when you thought one woman had the upper hand, the other would come back and retaliate. The crowd was watching the match with genuine interest rather than waiting for a wardrobe malfunction. 'Oohs' followed the spots during the match and it was easy to see that the match was being appreciated. Of course, the referee softly reminded them that the match and aftermath would have to occur very soon if they wanted to stick to the allotted time.

After perpetrating her first live Stratusfaction in years, Trish went in for the last of her pins. This was of course when the scripted shit hit the invisible fan. Before the referee could bring his hand down for the final count, Santino and Rosa who had already interfered slightly, decided to show their true colors.

Quickly dropping an elbow onto the Canadian stunner's back, Rosa started the attack. Santino in turn moved to pull his girlfriend away from the now slightly uncontrollable Rosa. That character really would do anything for Beth and her resemblance to the old Mickie James character was obvious. The irony that she was attacking Trish of all people was palpable… Joining the Glamazon's biggest fan, Santino did the unthinkable and began to kick Trish in the ribs. Moaning in pain, Trish struggled against Santino as he dragged her onto her feet and gave a standard scoop drop. The force of said drop caused her to writhe in pain, her face contorted in its ugly semblance.

The referee was trying unsuccessfully to get Beth and her posse out of the ring. Already feeling better, Beth grabbed Trish by her lock locks and threw her out of the ring. Falling with a loud smack, Trish over sold it, but no one was really going to pay too much attention to that. Boo's and jeers were of course being directed toward her aggressors and so she figured she was more over than ever before. Even though she could already tell her body was going to be sore after the match, Patricia was more than happy to be there on the thin cold mats groaning in pain. How anyone could enjoy such a career choice was beyond her, but she certainly wasn't going to question her life at this point.

Thrown unceremoniously against the steel steps by a screeching Rosa, Trish purposefully let her head bang against them a bit dramatically. Temporarily 'knocked out', Beth assaulted the 'unconscious' Stratus with kicks and punches; there seemed to be no end in sight.

With her hazel eyed closed and laying limp against the barrier beside the ring, she heard loud boos and slightly confused cheers. Had it not been for the fact she was face down on the floor, her hair covering her visage, everyone would have witnessed Trish brake character and smile. That sort of reaction was reserved for Mr. Jericho himself. The fans were torn. Was he here to help or to exacerbate the situation? The majority of the audience was hesitant to jump to conclusions.

Cockily strutting down the ramp, Chris seemed to think he could take his time in coming to the aide of Trish. And really, would his character do it any differently? No one rushed Jericho.

By the time Jericho was near the fallen Diva, Santino tried to head him off. With a quick kick in the balls from Chris, the 'Italian' was stunted in crippling pain. Falling in a theatrical manner, he was now of no bother. Rosa, suddenly not as sure of herself, back peddled and looked to Beth for direction. With a flip of her hair, the Glamazon spit in Trish's direction and decided she was too good to beat an unconscious woman. Smartly going around the ring in the opposite direction of where Chris stood, she eyed the blond man with disdain.

The crowd, for the first time in ages, was willing to cheer for Chris. Some of them were hesitant still and watched with bated breath as Jericho leaned down to pick the 'unconscious' Trish up in his arms. Slipping an arm behind her back and the other behind her knees, he lifted her smoothly. Pressing her light frame up against him, he started to take her up the ramp safely in his grasp.

Trish's face was relaxed and nuzzled in the crook of Jericho's neck. Her heart raced and she was sure Chris could feel it. She tried desperately to appear limp and lifeless, but she was tense with the feeling of his warmth against her. With each one of his movements she could feel his muscles work under his cleanly scented flesh. He had so easily taken her into his arms; she could feel how strong he was. Chris didn't seem to be struggling with her, but she found herself gripping him slightly. Was she subconsciously trying to bring herself closer; to feel him further?

There wasn't much time to think as they finally made it behind the curtain. Opening her eyes she smiled and loosened her grip from her savior as he gently placed her back onto her feet. Uneasy with the way her body responded to his touch, Patricia dumbly smiled up at Chris. He beamed back at her and awkwardly clapped her on the arm in a friendly manner. "You were great out there. I'd praise you some more but I've gotta get ready for my match and then our first promo-"

With confused eyes, Trish interjected, "Our first promo?" She had not heard of this and was slightly annoyed that no one had mentioned it. Trish knew herself enough to know she wasn't the best at adlibbing and improvisation. She certainly couldn't hold her own against Chris without a script.

A side-swept grin came over Chris's features and he licked his lips. Trish couldn't help herself and let her eyes dart to his mouth for the briefest second. "Well, you're not in it, but it has to do with us," he clarified, starting to walk further into the backstage area.

"Oh, well…" Trish trailed off as she noted he was kind of in a hurry. He sent a wayward smirk in a 'good-bye' sort of gesture and she could've sworn her knees went weak for a moment and a half.

Away from the cameras and inside his dressing room, Christopher was binding his wrists. With a heavy sigh he was slowly going through the match in his head; perhaps not every detail, but the spots and whatnot. For a moment he felt kind of bad for Phil. How many times had CM Punk lost to him? Surely Vince could've found someone else to lose to him? It was starting to seem that Punk was becoming Chris's official jobber. If Chris had to beat anyone, to get anywhere, it was always poor Phil. In fact, he had apologized earlier in the night to him. Thankfully, the Straight Edge superstar had no hard feelings against him. That was just the way the business worked sometimes.

Done with one wrist, he changed hands and in turn changed topics as well. Thinking of how Trish was received by the fans brought a smile to his face. He was aware of what the fans were saying about most of the Divas. They were pretty but unathletic; all they had were hair pulling contests. Of course, Beth and Melina were the 'fighting' Divas, but how many matches could they have before it got old? Obviously, that moment had come and gone.

The fans could finally get what they had so desperately wanted: A true Diva. Trish Stratus went from being Vince's little kayfabe slut to the most prolific and athletic woman on either brand in decades. She was going to bring the Divas belt back to rightful place, around her slender waist.

Thinking of said waist, he finally allowed himself to ponder on the feeling of Patricia's perfect body in his arms. Her every curve had been flush against him and he had felt her soft breath against his neck. Every so often he would feel her plush mouth brush haphazardly against his flesh. He got a jolt of lust for her, and tried to physically shrug away the sensation.

This would not end well, he thought to himself. He had merely had his hands on her in a most platonic manner and already he wanted to touch her again. That stupid clap on her arm? By the time his hand had reached out to touch her, he had to improvise. He had really meant to softly caress her cheek but rethought his actions 'mid-flight', so to speak. He had obviously come across as an idiot, but he hoped he had saved himself the mortification of advancing on a married woman. He placed himself in Josh's position and it sobered him up quickly. Not only was Trish was a friend, but he sure as well was not going to try and lure her away from a happy marriage. What type of man would he be if he did that?

The camera's followed a sweaty and panting Chris Jericho as he made his way backstage. Even though he had just beaten Punk in a grueling match, the man still glowered angrily. "Never happy with anything at all, that Jericho," voiced Michael Cole.

"I'm just worried about Trish! I don't know what's worse, being beaten by Beth and her crew or being taken by Jericho!" always thinking of the women, King let out an exasperated sigh and worried groan.

Rubbing the back of his neck with a pained grimace, Chris sauntered ever closer to his destination. Wrestlers eyed him as he walked by but no one said a word. Though he looked perpetually irritated, there was a certain determination to his walk this time. He needed to get to his dressing room.

In due time, he reached the door which at the moment housed his name on a plaque on its façade, his things inside, and hopefully something else. Something which garnered his immediate interest. In an uncharacteristic manner, Jericho let out a small sigh and tapped his own door softly. "Trish?" his voice was thick with the exertion of his last match mere moments ago. "Trish?" he tried again.

His scowl deepened and he knocked harder. "Look, I left you in there all by yourself all this time. The least you can do is let me in and thank me!" he barked at her, his annoyance visible from anyway you looked at him. Grabbing the door knob, he angrily tried to push it open, but surprise, it was unlocked and he easily gained entrance.

"You-" he cut himself off as he noticed Trish was not where he left her. The camera panned the room and then fell upon a red couch pressed against a white wall. There was a depression in the seats where Trish's form had once laid, and nothing else. No other trace of her presence was visible. From the couch, the shot changed to Chris's face. His scowl softened slightly and he rubbed his face with something along the lines of annoyance and disappointment. With a shuddered breath he let his body fall back on said couch. Relaxed and quiet, his blue eyes fluttered closed and that was that.

Such was the final shot the crowd in the arena or the fans at home got of Chris that night. The sight of an exhausted Jericho after winning his shot at the World Heavyweight Championship and seemingly pinning for a woman he had 'loved' years ago. His persona was an enigma if there ever was one.

Trish, sitting in the women's locker room eyed the monitor within it with curiosity. Aww, poor Chris had missed her. Her excitement of their angle resurfaced and her nerves at working with him were lulled into a light slumber. This was going to be good. When was the last time a superstar really had a good angle with a woman? The newer PG rating for the WWE had extinguished a plethora of ideas, but it seemed the thought of Jericho and Trish part deux was good enough to be pushed.

There were plenty of younger viewers who wouldn't have the slightest inkling of the past Y2J and Trish Stratus had, but it was worth a shot. Surely, a large portion of the demographic had to be older than twelve. Nonetheless, if the audience did not respond to this 'union' of sorts, the angle would be dropped and it would likely never come up again. Which was for the best in the end. There were only so many times a gimmick could be used before it got annoyingly old.

An example of such was Kane. How many times had he obsessed over a woman? How many of them were kidnapped by him and taken into the 'depths of hell'? Surely there had to be fresher ideas for Glen Jacobs to take part in. Unfortunately a bout of bad writing had left the 'monster' without a real direction.

That could've been her, Trish mused. She could be in another washed up angle where the woman is in a mixed tag match, kisses her partners cheek, and becomes a valet. Wow, how exciting. The sarcasm of her thoughts was reflected upon her face and caused her lip to curl. There was nothing essentially wrong with such a storyline. All except the fact there was no story to tell. If even a match was supposed to tell a story, then why had storylines lost all creativity? Trish didn't mind doing what she was told, but she liked to think that she was contributing to something, anything.

At least with the angle she and Chris had there was chemistry― that much was obvious since they had met years ago, they were both talented, and they were both important members of the roster. Romance angles were usually held for the mid-card but she believed that they could be interesting enough and important enough to fuel main event feuds and genuinely involve the audience. The odd love triangle, which sadly never was, between Stephanie, Hunter, and Chris was proof enough that with star power and chemistry, any little angle could change an era.

In her heart of hearts, Trish knew that this second run at Chris and Trish would go somewhere. So far, there was no third wheel to try and steal away a piece of story. It was just them and Chris's quest for the gold. She feared what her attraction to him could lead to, but she was willing to fight it out to see where their characters went. Her passion for the business, she thought, would allow her to remain professional in Christopher's wake.

All this time, Trish had stood stock still a couple of feet from the monitor. Orton's and Rey's match was on, but Trish already knew who would win. No matter how hard the fans rooted for Rey and how close he was to overcoming the odds… he didn't really stand a chance in the world of kayfabe. The Legend Killer would end the match as he did most: Victorious. This would obviously lead to Jericho against Orton the following week for the World Heavyweight Championship.

Her mindset was still upon their angle and so she found herself hoping that such an important event would not leave her and their angle on the back burner.

With the conclusion of Raw on that night, Trish was still ambling along the corridors. While most superstars left as soon as their bouts and promos had ended, she remained till the very end. At times she stayed late enough to watch the ring be dismantled and the ramp taken apart piece by piece. There was a certain humbling aspect to watching things so mighty in their visual grandeur be taken apart and loaded into boxes as if they were really nothing special at all.

It was easy to bask in the cheers of thousands of individuals, go back to her hotel room and spend the day-to-day without ever noticing just how truly lucky she was. Just as with the turnbuckles, ropes, and mats, they could be stuffed into crates and lose their purpose. She understood that was also the life of a wrestler. Without an arena full of screaming fans you were just another commodity that when worn down, could be packed away. The memories and accolades remained of course, but you could never retire from being a wrestler and become, say, a post-man. A wrestler without a ring was like a body without a soul. As much as she was loved and respected she knew that one day, with the metaphorical bang of Mr. McMahon's gavel, everything she loved about her professional life would vanish. Of course, this would never be of her own accord. If she were ever to leave, it would be forcibly.

Her stroll through the back passageways of the arena came to a halt as she absentmindedly leaned back against a stack of crates. It was about time Trish should start heading back to her hotel room, but she knew there was nothing for her. A bed awaited her but she was not ready to welcome it with open arms. Perhaps going to a bar or a club, get a bite to eat with some of the other Divas would satisfy her need for stimulation. Alas, she wasn't in that sort of mood. Trish wasn't hungry and she wasn't in the mood to swat men off like ravenous mosquitoes on such a nostalgic night for her. It seemed perhaps she would be one of the last to leave the building…

There was a door somewhere down the hall to her left and Trish was unceremoniously shoved from her reverie when she heard the door open. From the opening she saw Chris emerge with a slight smile. Behind him, Stephanie McMahon followed suit. Currently wrapped up in soft conversation, the Canadian female merely watched them, from afar, with curious eyes.

Their air of professionalism was thick with something else, and it took a moment or two for Trish to decipher exactly what it was. Chemistry. Even as the stunning employer and employee kept a respectful distance between each other and were sending none of the traditional signals… Patricia could smell the attraction all the way from down the hall. A slightly scratchy laugh which was obviously Stephanie's, was light and she shook her head at something Chris had said. He chuckled deeply and licked his lips to add perhaps another comment.

Knowing that perhaps she shouldn't be staring so intently, Trish suddenly took a great interest in the spiked heel of her black pumps. Leaning on one side against the stack of crates, she raised her leg up slightly and inspected the end with narrowed eyes and looked quite awkward in her own endearingly beautiful way. While she was trying to focus on something other than the soft background conversation, she questioned her actions critically. Surely natural curiosity could be blamed for her interest in what Chris and Steph could possibly be talking about. But she knew herself well enough to know it was more than that.

The dull hum of conversation died down to silence and Trish could hear the click of heels start to sound; only they grew softer, as the shuffle of another pair of feet grew louder. Heaving a sigh, the Canadian female grew sick of her childish behavior and quickly steadied herself. She was a grown woman and she was acting like a snoopy teenager. What did she care about Chris and Stephanie? They could be talking about any number of things that didn't necessarily pertain to her.

She came to the conclusion that boredom did not suit her and turned to glance at her left and saw Chris walking towards her. She could already tell he wasn't heading for her purposely; rather he was just making his way down the hall. Casually dressed with a band-tee, jeans, and a jacket he was no less attractive than he had been in his suit at the beginning of the show. Duffle bag in hand, he smiled at Trish once he was close enough to acknowledge her.

"Hey," was his sole soft word. Trish figured he'd walk past her but smiled as he stopped dead in his tracks. "You're staying till longer?" he asked with a cock of his head.

"I guess not…" she trialed off with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "I've been wandering around for a while for no real reason. I think I might just leave already," she finished running her fingers through her hair as habit dictated.

"Well if you're gonna go now, I'll walk you out," he said with a small sweep of his hand, gesturing her to follow him if she so pleased. All he got in return was a bubbly smile and a nod of Trish's head. Taking just a step or two, he waited for her as she came up beside him. "Your stuff?" he asked curiously, his eyes sweeping her frame briefly. Had he been looking for a bag or―?

"I already put my stuff in my car, actually," she muttered with a smile. "I kind of planned on hanging out here for a while."

A knowing smile brightened Chris's countenance and turned to look at her. "I did the same thing when I came back. It felt surreal almost. I did a lot of things in my off time, but I just didn't feel like myself. I was content being away from wrestling, I needed the break, but after a while I missed everything. Even things I had-"

"-Even things you had hated?" Trish cut in.

"Exactly."

His words made her sigh heavily. "I don't think I've felt this good in years," she muttered truthfully. "The fans, you guys, the crew… I don't know why I ever left."

"You left so when you came back, you could see how much people really liked you and missed you. And that's conceited," he ribbed her and was rewarded with a soft shove on Trish's part.

It didn't take much longer for them to arrive at the parking lot. With a brief one-armed hug, Chris reminded her that they would indeed see each other the following morning. Creative was fiddling with storylines and all those involved in one would be expected to attend. "I was actually talking to Stephanie about our thing…" he trailed off and shrugged as he opened Trish's car door for her. Always so chivalrous, she noted.

"And?" She sat herself down on in her seat and looked up into his eyes. Even in the dark of night they were beautiful. Their blue hue was haunting in the odd outdoor lighting. She found herself fascinated by them before her phone suddenly went off. The ringtone was frighteningly familiar and then it hit her: Josh.

"I'll let you get that. See you tomorrow Patricia." Her hearing her full name was odd and yet, if it was possible, endeared him to her further. Chris shut her door before she could reply. Smiling at her through the glass he tapped it twice and winked in an official goodbye.

Pulling her phone from the purse which had been locked inside her car, she picked up her husband's call. She spoke to him for a couple moments and she felt her heart flutter. God she missed him. In the end, she sent him a kiss the words she longed to hear from him, herself: "I love you."

On the other end of the line came a soft sigh, "I love you too."

A/N: Ah, so ends the chapter. This one was focused more on Trish, so the next will focus on Chris. Remember R/R! Oh, and pardon the typos on this chapter… Don't kill me, I've been pretty tired but I wanted to get this chapter up already.