A/N: SORRY about the wait; I have had SUCH a week! Plus, this is my first Jeff Hardy story, and I have been so worried about screwing it up that I spent forever tweaking this chapter.

Thank you to xxikababyxx, cherrycokerocks, Irshbeth, Writinglove101, Jyessie Abbey McMahon Hardy, and D. Torres for reviewing the first chapter! Thank you for the support; you guys ROCK!

Chapter 2: Harbored Doubts

Melina Perez stumbled into her hotel room, followed closely by her boyfriend, the Intercontinental Champion Johnny Nitro. Both of them were laughing; the sound of it just a little too malicious and a little too biting to be in mere amusement. Both of them were also slightly intoxicated.

Melina spun around in a slow circle, leaning forward and almost falling against Nitro as he approached her. She reached up and draped her arms around his neck, smiling at the Intercontinental Champion. "Can you believe how ridiculous Mick sounded tonight?" she exclaimed, her strident voice holding only the faintest slur. "All that crap about wanting me to be the godmother to one of his snot-nosed brats—I almost started laughing right there in the ring!"

Nitro bent his head down, his breath hitting her face in a hot wave. Melina fought the urge to flinch and won. She and Johnny had been celebrating; it wasn't her fault that her boyfriend now smelled like a brewery. "What did he expect? That you and him were going to ride off into the sunset like one of those cheesy Westerns?"

Melina snorted, a low derisive sound. "Yeah, right; he would probably crush the horse." Both she and Nitro burst into scornful laughter at this thought. The Intercontinental Champion was the first to fall silent. He slowly trailed his thumb over her lower lip, his eyes drinking in the contours of her face.

"That loser never knew what hit him," he mused, his tone almost admiring. "You really had him fooled, Mel."

The Dominant Diva's smile widened a little. "That's why they call it acting, Johnny…and we both know that when it comes to acting, I'm the best."

Nitro touched her face, the backs of his fingers trailing down her cheek. "Well, thanks to your acting, we were finally able to get rid of that has-been waste of space." His tone became disdainful. "Can you imagine what a joke you would be—what both of us would be—if we had to spend our careers associated with a fat slob like Mick Foley?"

The Intercontinental Champion was too full of alcohol and euphoric confidence to notice the slight strain that crept into her voice. "Yeah…I can just imagine."

Nitro leaned even closer, his lips grazing hers. "That's why we make such a great pair, Mel. The Intercontinental Champ, the hottest Diva on Raw, and just between the two of us, baby…" He lowered his voice. "Acting isn't the only thing that you're the best at." With that, he captured her mouth with his, gripping the back of her neck as he kissed her. Melina pressed her body against Nitro's, disentangling her arms from his neck, running her hands down his chest.

For a moment, the pair seemed to melt into one another—then with an exasperated groan, Nitro pulled back. "Aw, shit, time out, Mel—I have to take a piss."

Melina's beautiful features registered disgust and she involuntarily took a step back as well. "Wow, Johnny…TMI."

Nitro shrugged. "What can I say?" He moved toward the bathroom, his eyes still focused on his girlfriend. "I'll be right back; you—" He pointed with both hands at Melina, winking. "—don't go anywhere." He turned, and had just reached the doorframe when he stopped, glancing back at the Dominant Diva. "Oh, and Mel?" Melina looked back at him expectantly without saying anything. Nitro reverently removed his blue-and-gold championship belt, gazing at it admiringly for a second before turning his attention back to his girlfriend. "Hold my belt, will you?" He casually tossed the championship over in her direction. Melina caught it awkwardly with both arms, staggering and almost dropping to her knees under the weight of the title belt. If Nitro noticed her difficulties, he didn't acknowledge it. "Thatagirl," he added encouragingly before disappearing into the bathroom.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, the smile on Melina's face slowly faded, replaced by a grimace of irritation. She loved Johnny, she really did, but sometimes, he was just so…oblivious. Gradually, this too vanished, a countenance of resigned sadness taking its place. The Raw Diva sighed, bowing her head, her shoulders slumping. She turned, and dumping the heavy Intercontinental title on the bed, moved to the window, pushing aside the patterned curtain to stare at the urban landscape outside the hotel.

All night, she had been trying to tell herself that she had no reason to feel guilty, that she had done the right thing by betraying Mick Foley—but despite all of her assurances, guilt had still managed to sneak back in. Somehow, even after all the pain she had caused in the WWE, she still possessed a conscience, was still able to feel remorse for her actions. And no matter how matter times she told herself that what had happened tonight had not been her fault—deep down, she knew that it was.

"Stop," the Raw Diva whispered to herself, reaching up to massage her temples with one hand. "I did what I had to." At this, she almost let out a bitter little laugh. That should be her own personal mantra; she should have it tattooed on her forehead. I did what I had to.

I did what I had to…consequences be damned.

She had spent years trying to break into this business, gritting her teeth and swallowing her pride when she was passed over for Diva Search rejects with no wrestling ability. And when she had finally received that long-sought-after WWE contract, what had her first order of business been? To be lumped in with said rejects and forced to participate in useless Raw second hour filler like lingerie fashion shows and limbo contests. No one asked her to wrestle. No one even cared that she could wrestle.

Getting demoted back to OVW…it had stung, but it had also ended up being the best thing for her career. It had been there that she had met Nitro…and there that she had vowed to stop being nice. Nice had never gotten her anything. When she had reappeared on SmackDown several months later with Nitro and Joey Mercury as part of MNM, it didn't take the other Superstars long to figure out that she wasn't the same sweet little Melina Perez anymore.

Over the next year, she stepped on anyone and everyone—Superstars and Divas alike—in order to make her mark in this business; making her boys three-time WWE Tag Team Champions in the process. After MNM had split up and she and Nitro had been signed to Raw, she had used that same ruthless ambition to secure the Intercontinental Championship for her boyfriend…and to help him keep it.

But now, three months into her second stint on Raw, what did she really have to show for it? She had spent her career achieving greatness for others, but had obtained none for herself. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, she was JAD—Just Another Diva. She and Nitro were the A-list couple, the darlings of the paparazzi—but all anyone really cared about was Nitro's Intercontinental Title. After three months, the only things she had achieved for herself were one or two insignificant singles victories…and a guilty conscience.

Sometimes, late at night (while Nitro snored away obliviously beside her), Melina would lie awake and stare up at the ceiling, wondering if all of the success, all of the notoriety in the world was really worth anything if it came at the cost of her own soul—

The Dominant Diva squeezed her eyes closed, balling up her fist and pressing it against the cool glass. No. She would not waste her time concerning herself with what everyone else thought of her. What had everyone else ever done for her? The only person who had ever been there for her was Nitro; he was all she needed. Right now, he was the Intercontinental Champion; with her help, it wouldn't be too long before he was WWE Champion. And once that happened…no one would be able to touch her. No one would be able to call her arm candy ever again. She would truly be the Dominant Diva, and no one was going to stop her from reaching that goal—especially not a washed-up loser like Mick Foley.

But as her remorse evaporated in the wake of her ambition, Melina couldn't stop herself from wondering if there was something missing; if she was lacking some intangible element in her life that was infinitely more important than any championship…

"Hey, Mel, what're you doing over there?"

The Dominant Diva turned at the sound of Nitro's voice, her eyes widening in shock. A stifled gasp escaped her lips. Nitro had exited the bathroom, its warm white light illuminating the edges of his body, but leaving his face and figure in shadow. For a heartbeat, she was sure that he was someone else, someone with multicolored hair and the most intense green eyes she had ever seen…

Then Nitro stepped into the light, revealing his face and shattering the illusion. Melina let her breath out in a long relieved exhale. She couldn't fathom what could have caused her to imagine something like that. Nitro and the guy she had met earlier—they were nothing alike. That guy was a rebel, a punk, a burnout who clearly didn't understand his place in the grand scheme of things. He was on the other side of the spectrum, and eyes or no eyes, he was so far from her type that it was a waste of time even making these comparisons.

The Intercontinental Champion moved toward her slowly, his handsome face creasing in concern. "Mel? Are you all right?"

The Dominant Diva gave her head a quick shake, reddish brown ringlets bouncing against her face. "I'm fine…you just startled me, that's all." She stepped forward, her mouth curving up into a flirtatious smile. "So...where were we?"

As soon as Jeff arrived at the arena in Canton, Ohio, for the Friday night house show, he was immediately summoned to the general manager's office. The Rainbow-Haired Warrior figured that it had to be some form of good news, since he had technically won his return match on Monday. But then again, with the McMahons, you never knew. It was no secret that their feud with Degeneration X was slowly unraveling both Vince and Shane. Jeff had left the arena last week shortly after his match; it hadn't been until later that he had heard about Mick Foley, how they had fired him after making him join the Kiss My Ass Club. Granted, it wasn't the first time Foley had lost his job—and probably wouldn't be the last. But still, his abrupt and humiliating termination still served as an ugly reminder that you were never really safe in this business.

There has to be a middle ground…Jeff mused to himself as he made his way to the GM's office. There has to be someplace where I can just compete without stepping on someone else's politics… He wanted no part of Edge, and he definitely wanted nothing to do with this whole DX business; there had to be a third option available. Maybe that's what he was about to find out.

He reached the room, and raising his hand, rapped lightly on the door with his knuckles. He heard an impatient "Come in!" and pushing the door open, entered the space. The first thing he saw was Shane McMahon sitting on the edge of a large wooden desk. The elder McMahon sibling gestured toward the other side of the room, where two luxurious black leather sofas formed a "V" in the corner. "You're here; have a seat."

Jeff turned toward the couches, noticing the room's other occupant for the first time. The Legend Killer Randy Orton leaned back a little, his muscles tensing at the sight of the new arrival. The two men eyed each other warily for a few seconds. Jeff knew Randy a little bit; they had been on Raw together briefly before he had been released by the company. Back then, the third-generation Superstar had just been recruited by a hot new faction called Evolution, and despite his young age, had been a complete douche. Judging by the arrogant sneer touching Randy's mouth, very little had changed in the past three and a half years.

The Charismatic Enigma took a seat on the other sofa, crossing his ankle over his knee and focusing on the Chairman's son. Shane, satisfied that he had both their attention, cleared his throat and began. "I brought both of you here to tell you that you'll be competing against each other this week, culminating in a match on the next edition of Monday Night Raw." At this news, both Superstars shot each other another suspicious glance, but neither one said anything. Shane continued. "Now, I want to think of these as warm-up matches, because your match on Monday night will determine the next number-one-contender for Johnny Nitro's Intercontinental Championship." He fell silent, allowing this news to sink in.

The younger Hardy felt a shock of adrenaline and excitement course through him. A shot at the Intercontinental Championship…that was the kind of competition he'd been seeking. True, he'd have to go through Randy Orton to get it (douche or not, the guy was talented), but still, a shot at the Intercontinental Championship—

But he was getting ahead of himself; there might be strings attached. After all, he hadn't exactly left the company on the best of terms; why were they giving him anything? Jeff opened his mouth to ask why, but luckily, Randy beat him to it.

"No offense, Shane," The Legend Killer's voice was dripping with condescension. "But why exactly is someone like Jeff Hardy getting a shot at the title? I mean, the guy's a burnout—"

"Nice to see you again, too, Randy," the Rainbow-Haired Warrior interjected sarcastically.

Randy went on as though there had been no interruption. "—he leaves, goes and wrestles for another company, then out of the blue decides to return, and you welcome him back like some kind of prodigal son. Meanwhile, I've been busting my ass for this company for the past three years. Need I remind you that I was the youngest World Heavyweight Champion in history?"

"You don't need to remind me," the elder McMahon sibling replied quietly. "In fact, Randy, since you're looking for a reason—let me remind you that the so-called 'prodigal son' won his match last week."

Randy scoffed. "Big deal; he only won by DQ."

"Yeah?" Shane countered, his voice faintly challenging. "And last time I checked, you lost your match by DQ, so as far as I'm concerned, that makes you both even. Now—" The Chairman's son rose to his feet. "I've got a lot of work to get done before the show tonight, so unless either of you gentlemen has anything else to add, I'll see you both later."

Randy glowered, but didn't say anything. Jeff merely rose to his feet, nodding courteously at Shane, who returned the gesture. The Charismatic Enigma moved to the door, opening it and stepping out into the hall.

He had gone barely five feet when a hand clamped down onto his shoulder, spinning him forcibly around. Jeff found himself staring into the Legend Killer's cold blue eyes. Randy glared back at him for a moment, his face twisting into a sneer. "So the great Jeff Hardy has finally returned to us," he spat mockingly. "Listen, Jeff, you may have been hot shit years ago, but you're out of your league if you think that you're beating me. Everyone knows that you're washed up; that you're just one mistake away from crashing and burning—"

"You like to talk a lot, Randy," Jeff interrupted, surprised by how calm his voice sounded. "Tell me—how much of that talking is going to help you out in the ring?"

The Legend Killer's eyes narrowed to small slits. "You better watch your back," he growled.

"I'll keep that in mind," Jeff retorted. For several moments, the two Superstars regarded each other, neither one willing to back down. Eventually, Randy tore his gaze from Jeff and walked away—but not before making sure to bump into the Rainbow-Haired Warrior extra hard with his shoulder as he did so. Jeff stumbled, almost losing his footing and leaning back against the wall for support. He watched the Legend Killer depart, his mouth curling into a grimace of distaste. "Dick." he muttered under his breath.

Just then, another hand touched his arm. Jeff whirled around, fully expecting to see another Superstar full of trash-talk—the angry remark on his lips dying when he beheld the girl standing behind him. She had long brown hair and large green eyes. Her features were perfect and precise, like those of a Barbie doll, but the warmth and emotion in her face made her far more interesting and attractive than any Barbie.

Jeff didn't know what to say; he was temporarily lost for words. The girl tilted her head to the side, studying him with those huge eyes of hers. "You're Jeff Hardy, right?" Jeff still couldn't speak, only nodded. The girl extended her hand. "Hi! I'm Maria. Maria Kanellis."

The Charismatic Enigma tentatively accepted it, closing his fingers around hers. "Nice to meet you," he finally managed to say. He wondered where he had seen this girl before, and in a flash, it came to him. "Wait…you're the backstage reporter, aren't you?"

Maria grimaced, an expression which she somehow managed to make look absolutely adorable. "If you can call it that," She noticed Jeff's questioning countenance and offered an explanation. "It's more like 'Here! Wear your skimpiest top, hold this microphone, ask the dumbest questions on earth, and then wonder why they call you an idiot.'" She stopped, flushing slightly in embarrassment. "Sorry…I'm babbling, aren't I?"

There was something about her bubbly effusiveness that was both overwhelming and utterly endearing, and Jeff found himself warming to her. Besides, she was the first person who hadn't treated him like some kind of unwanted interloper. The Rainbow-Haired Warrior smiled. "No more than anyone else."

Maria blushed harder, glancing down at her feet. "It's just…I'm kind of starstruck right now; I was a really big fan of yours—I'm still a really big fan." She glanced up, her green eyes locking onto his once again.

"Thanks," Jeff answered awkwardly, feeling like an idiot. To him, it had always been about performing and competing; he still couldn't wrap his head around the idea that he'd been doing it long enough for people to admire him—especially girls as pretty as this.

The backstage reporter glanced down the hall, then back at Jeff. "It must be weird for you—being back here," she offered. "I bet a lot has changed."

The Charismatic Enigma nodded slowly. For a moment, it was Monday night again, and he was back at that hallway, staring at that girl, that beautiful viper who had called him a nobody…But then the moment ended, and he was back in the present, staring at another girl, one just as lovely, but the complete polar opposite of the other one. "Yeah," he finally replied. "A lot has changed." And a lot hasn't…he added silently to himself.

Maria glanced down at her feet again, obviously steeling herself for something. "Listen," she began. "I was heading to the catering table to grab some water—do you…want to come with me?"

Her nervousness and trepidation was so cute that Jeff couldn't help himself; he grinned. "Sure!" he replied. Maria's face lit up instantly, her lips curving up into a sunny smile. Jeff pushed himself off the wall, and the two of them began walking toward the intersection of corridors up ahead.

"You're going to have to help me out," he told Maria. The backstage reporter's eyes widened and she nodded seriously. "I've been away for three years, so there's a lot I've missed. I'm counting on you to fill me in on everybody. Who's nice, who's not—" The pair moved out into the intersection. Jeff continued. "—who I can talk to, and who I should avoid like the—"

That was all he got out before a blur of pink, white and brown slammed into him, knocking him off-balance. Unlike Monday night, Jeff was distracted, and unable to regain his equilibrium, lost his footing and fell. He heard a muffled shriek—which he assumed came from Maria—and had the vague impression of rolling as he hit the ground. His eyes were squeezed shut; he felt his shoulder and back connect with the floor before he tumbled face-first onto a soft pile of something. He heard an "OOOF!", as though someone had just had the air knocked out of them.

For a second, Jeff was too paralyzed by surprise to move. Then, above him, he heard Maria exclaim: "Oh my God! Jeff! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jeff tried to say, then realized that his face was pressed against something warm and soft. Finding the floor with his hands, he pushed himself up, opening his eyes. His irises grew wide when he saw the sight beneath him. The soft pile he had landed on…was a girl, and the warm soft something that his face had been pressed against…was her ample cleavage. Jeff felt his face burning. His gaze traveled up to her face, and he froze. No way. No fucking way. It couldn't be—

Melina winced, her features twisting in pain. She wondered dimly what the hell had just happened. One minute, she had been hurrying down the hall, texting rapidly on her SideKick, the next, she was lying flat on her back, with what felt like a golf bag draped over her. That idiot—whoever the hell he was, he had come out of nowhere. As soon as she was up, she was going to rip him such a new one.

The Dominant Diva moaned, pressing one hand to her head. Her eyelids flickered open, and the first thing that her brown eyes saw was a very familiar pair of green ones staring down at her.

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior and the paparazzi princess both gasped, then exclaimed at the same time:

"You!"