A/N: WOW. Apologies from my end are definitely in order all around; I did not mean to go this long without updating. I had spring break, followed by the busiest month of my life. It's getting toward the end of the semester, and things are getting pretty hairy; plus, I had a CRIPPLING bout of writer's block. But hopefully, this nice long chapter will make up for my negligence, and I'm already hard at work on Chapter 6, so...enjoy! Peace!

Thank you to Esha Napoleon, AshlynnxHearts, Oomph Kiddo, R Lucas Spitfire, RatedRCouture, miles89, wweroh, cherrycokerocks, Writinglove101, Baby Jayne, and wwechick24 for reviewing! You guys are SO AWESOME! (no, really, you are)

Chapter 5: Outside Interference

Jeff ran the paint roller up and down the wall, covering its smooth surface with a fresh coating of white paint. Taking a step back, he clasped the roller in both hands, staring intently at his handiwork.

"Hey, Jeff!"

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior turned to see Maria standing right at his elbow. The backstage reporter was clad in an adorable little red halter top and white skirt, her beautiful face lit up in a sunny smile. Jeff matched it with one of his own. "Hey," he replied.

Maria glanced from him to the newly painted wall, blinking her big green eyes slowly. "Whatcha doing?" she asked.

Jeff followed her gaze and shrugged his shoulders as though the answer was obvious. "I'm watching Nitro and Melina's press conference from last week."

The backstage reporter looked back at him, her features twisting in her trademark expression of clueless confusion. "Hmmm…" she murmured. "It looks like you're watching paint dry."

The Charismatic Enigma bowed his head, his small smile becoming a huge satisfied grin. He glanced back up at Maria, uttering only one word in response: "Exactly." Handing her the paint-covered roller, he gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder and quickly strolled away. Maria turned back toward the wall, studying it as though trying to discern its true meaning.

"Cut! That was good!" The puzzled countenance vanished from Maria's face and she knelt down, carefully setting the roller back into the paint-filled tray on the floor. From around the corner, Jeff jogged back into view, coming up next to Maria and slinging an affectionate arm around her shoulders. Both of them stared expectantly at the cameraman in front of them, who had just set the electronic device down on the floor and was extracting a tape from somewhere inside its depths. "Hey, man, how'd it look?" the Rainbow-Haired Warrior enquired.

The cameraman lifted his gaze and gave them a thumbs-up. "Pretty good. I'm gonna have to run it by Vince before I hand it off, but I think there's a good chance it'll end up on the show tonight."

"Cool; thanks, man." The Charismatic Enigma turned back toward Maria, giving her a quick hug. "Thanks, Ria, for helping me out. I owe you one."

The backstage reporter waved it off. "No prob, Jeff. Anyway…you know how good I am at playing dumb."

"Maybe because you're anything but," Jeff replied, giving her shoulder a friendly squeeze.

A week had elapsed; seven long days that seemed to tick by with infinitesimal slowness, but they had gone by nonetheless and the next edition of Monday Night Raw had rolled around. It was a new city, a new venue, a new chance to entertain the WWE fans—but more than that, it was the night of Jeff's championship opportunity against Johnny Nitro.

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior didn't get intimidated; he had simply been through too much during the span of his career, of his life, to really be nervous about anything. However, he was well aware that tonight's match marked a crucial crossroads in his second stint with the WWE. Even though he had earned his title shot, he knew that he had been extremely lucky to even have been chosen for competition in the first place, and tonight was his chance to show the powers-that-be that they had indeed made the right choice in letting him come back.

However, just because Jeff was beyond intimidation didn't mean that he was above psyching out his opponents. And considering how his first encounter with Nitro had ended—that wannabe was practically begging to get knocked off his pedestal.

He had gotten the idea for the backstage segment after remembering the ill-fated "press conference" from the previous week. The whole segment hadn't been boring so much as just painful; Nitro in particular seemed to have no clue how dead the audience was. And Melina—she had looked like she wanted to be anywhere but behind that podium. Seeing her uncomfortable expression had almost made Jeff feel sorry for her.

Almost.

The thing about Melina was that whenever Jeff got these small inklings of sympathy for her, he inevitably ended up running into her. And whenever that happened, he always walked away with the conviction that if the paparazzi princess did possess a heart, it must be carved out of solid stone.

Most likely, she didn't have one, period.

Anyway, the Charismatic Enigma had thought of the phrase "as boring as watching paint dry" after spotting one of the paint cans sitting in his trunk. Most of the veteran Superstars knew that the younger Hardy brother, in addition to being a daredevil and a risk-taker, was also an artist. Many of them could recall him hanging out at the back of the arena or parking garage, canvas in front of him, brush in hand, and three or four open paint cans at his feet. As a result, Jeff always brought painting supplies to every venue. The spirit didn't always strike him (in fact, he hadn't painted once since he'd been back) but he was safe in the knowledge that if it did strike, he was ready to act on that spark of inspiration.

He'd asked Maria to help him; she in turn had coaxed a cameraman into taping them, and now, barring any disapproval from Mr. McMahon, the segment would air on tonight's broadcast of Raw. And hopefully, it would be seen by a certain Intercontinental Champion and his banshee of a girlfriend.

Jeff turned back toward Maria, wrapping his arm a little tighter around her shoulders. "Hey," he ventured tentatively. The backstage reporter looked up at him, her large eyes expectant. "Tonight, after the show…you want to have dinner with me? My treat."

Maria's face instantly brightened, her lips curving in a radiant smile. "Sure!" she chirped. "That would be awesome!"

"Great!" Jeff replied, mentally kicking himself for not having anything more insightful to say.

For several seconds, the two of them stood there awkwardly before Maria cleared her throat, drawing back from the Rainbow-Haired Warrior. "Well, I should probably go…get ready for the show and stuff. But before I do—" She stopped, putting her hand on his arm, and tiptoeing up, kissed Jeff softly on the cheek. "For good luck." the Raw Diva whispered.

Jeff turned his head toward hers, his mouth almost grazing hers. For a moment, the pair remained like that, drinking in their mutual close proximity. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, Maria pulled away. "I'll see you later," she whispered. "'Bye."

"'Bye," the Charismatic Enigma managed to answer, but by then, the backstage reporter had already left. Jeff turned, staring at the spot where she had stood, before smacking himself in the forehead with the heel of his hand.

Smooth move there, Sparky…he thought sourly. He could dive headfirst off a thirty-foot ladder, push his body to the brink of its physical limitations, but yet he couldn't even make the first move with a pretty—no, gorgeous—girl standing right in front of him. Maria had been waiting for him to take initiative, to take that crucial first step—but Jeff had failed to do so.

What was the matter with him? He liked Maria, he really did—and he knew that she liked him. But Jeff had had his heart broken enough times to know that being in love was like hitting that Swanton—when you fell, you fell. And as much as he liked Raw's backstage reporter…with her, he always felt like both of his feet were still on the ground. More than that—he felt as though he was holding back some part of himself whenever he was with her, like he was waiting for something more.

Why was he holding back…and what was he waiting for? Jeff didn't know, and unfortunately, he didn't have time tonight to find out. Right now, he had a title match to win, an Intercontinental Champion to piss off, and a meddling Diva to watch out for—though not necessarily in that order.

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior turned to gaze at his handiwork one final time, his mouth curving up in a grin as he admired his impromptu paint job. Too bad he wouldn't get the chance to gauge Nitro's reaction to this little piece of video mockery; he would have given anything to see the look on the Intercontinental Champion's face…

"Son of a bitch!"

Nitro rose to his feet, angrily hurling his water bottle at the wall. The plastic container cracked when it made contact, spilling its contents onto the concrete floor. The Intercontinental Champion began to pace, one hand clamped protectively over his blue-and-gold title belt, while he ran the other through his blond-streaked brown hair. "The nerve of that loser!" he exclaimed. "Can you believe this guy, Mel? Jeff Hardy is damn lucky to even be in this match—especially after what he did to you last week! Who the hell does he think he is; acting like he's better than us?"

"Relax, Johnny," his girlfriend called out from her vantage point next to the makeup mirror, but Nitro didn't seem to hear.

The Intercontinental Champion ground to a halt, his handsome face twisted with loathing. "I don't see his name on this title belt!" To punctuate this statement, he lifted up the Intercontinental Championship, shaking it a little. "You and me, Mel—we're A-listers. We are the hottest things on Raw, SmackDown, or ECW! Where the hell does a burnout like Jeff Hardy get off saying that we're boring?"

Melina started to say something in reply, but stopped herself, rolling her eyes instead. Whenever Johnny got like this, there really was no point in reasoning with him. Her best bet would be to hang back, wait for him to get all of this outrage out of his system—and pray that she would be able to stop him if he tried to do anything stupid.

The paparazzi princess turned around to gaze at her reflection in the mirror. As usual, the image staring back at her passed inspection: revealing (but not too revealing) red halter top, camouflage-print miniskirt, reddish-brown hair perfectly curled and spilling down past her shoulders. But yet, something about her reflection seemed out-of-place, as though something was missing. It took her a few seconds more to realize that her usual confident arrogant demeanor was absent for once, replaced by an almost alien expression of anxious unhappiness. The Dominant Diva quickly ducked her head, lest Nitro see the look on her face and comment on it.

It wasn't so much what Jeff had said that made her so upset—although it definitely contributed to her foul mood. After all, the Charismatic Enigma had lumped her in with Nitro; had implied that they were boring when in reality, they were far from it. No…it was the fact that the Rainbow-Haired Warrior had taken one of the most agonizing experiences of her life, and trivialized it down into insignificance.

Melina was not stupid; she knew that last week's "press conference" wasn't going to win any big awards for Promo of the Year. But she had gone out there regardless, had pouted and preened and generally reinforced her persona as Raw's uber-bitch—all the while masking behind said persona the one secret she could not divulge to anybody, not even to Nitro.

She didn't hate Mick Foley.

Two weeks ago, she had betrayed the Hardcore Legend, had nailed him with a low blow before firing him—but she didn't hate him. She didn't even dislike him. If she had to ascribe a state of mind of her perception of Foley, it would be that she felt sorry for him, more than anything else.

But it was more than simple pity that fueled her guilt. Foley was the one person on any of the rosters that had refused to buy into the distrust and the dislike surrounding MNM's former manager. Despite all the warnings that he must have gotten, the Hardcore Legend had offered her his friendship. At first, Melina had been wary; in her experience, nothing was ever offered without strings attached. But as Foley persisted, she gradually realized that he was befriending her merely because he wanted to be her friend. And as time went on, the paparazzi princess grew to trust the Hardcore Legend, opening up to him emotionally as she'd never been able to with Nitro.

But in the end, her vanity and her ambition had gotten in the way. While part of Melina was flattered by the attention Foley doted on her, another part of her was disgusted by him. He might have been sweet; however, that didn't change the fact that he was also missing an ear, or that he never shaved, or that he insisted on wearing that same repulsive plaid shirt every time he came out to the ring. Not to mention that Nitro treated Foley with nothing but contempt—contempt he seemed more than willing to extend to his girlfriend for associating herself with the Hardcore Legend.

So when Mr. McMahon had called her into his office, and asked her to be the vehicle for Mick Foley's downfall, she had said yes without hesitating. Sure, Mick was her friend…but he had outlived his usefulness, and besides, the good graces of Vince McMahon were not something that you turned down. She had assumed that the tiny twinge of conscience she felt at her betrayal would eventually go away. She had no way of knowing that, over time, it would grow and grow, until Melina could barely think straight through the voice shouting in her head, endlessly reminding her that of all the shitty things she had done, this was by far the shittiest.

Which brought her back to Jeff Hardy. Somehow, without saying a word (really, that little bimbo Maria had done most of the talking), he had taken last week's acknowledgment of her treachery, and turned it back around on her. Without mentioning Foley's name, he had taken a jab at her…and had hit his target. Last week's segment had left her on the verge of a panic attack—yet the Rainbow-Haired Warrior had made her seem like a spoiled little drama queen crying over a broken nail.

I'm glad we'll never be friends…I've seen what you do to your 'friends'…

What was it about the younger Hardy that frustrated her so much? Whenever she was around Jeff, she had this sense of not being in control—a sensation which terrified her as much as infuriated her. The paparazzi princess had always thrived on being the one in charge of the situation. While on SmackDown, she had reigned supreme over the Diva roster, and had kept a tight leash on Mercury and Nitro. Here on Raw, she might not be the Women's Champion, but she was still a force to be reckoned with. Superstars or Divas who crossed her path quickly came to regret it. And while she had loosened her grip on Nitro's leash since he had become Intercontinental Champion…she hadn't loosened it that much.

There was a reason she called herself the Dominant Diva.

But somehow, the Charismatic Enigma managed to evade the finely woven net she had thrown over everyone and everything else. Whenever they encountered one another, Melina could never quite get the upper hand on him, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't seem to get to him—while he always managed to get to her. He truly was an enigma, simultaneously irritating and fascinating at the same time. She couldn't stand Jeff Hardy—but she also couldn't stop thinking about him.

You're only concerned because he's after Johnny's championship…the Dominant Diva told herself firmly. Once Johnny beats him tonight, he'll disappear into the woodwork and you can go back to having nothing to do with him again… But even as she reasoned with herself, her logic felt flawed. For one thing, the determination she had last seen gleaming in Jeff's eyes was a more than ample indication that defeat was not going to slow down the Rainbow-Haired Warrior. Even if he lost tonight, he was going to keep battling his way back until he had claimed Nitro's title as his own.

Also, try as she might, she could never quite banish the notion that her interest in the younger Hardy brother had nothing to do with Johnny Nitro or the Intercontinental Championship—and that there was more between the two of them than just mutual hatred.

Thankfully, at that moment, Nitro's voice broke through her reverie, distracting her from her dangerous train of thought and jarring her back to the present: "—asshole crossed the line; I'm gonna go kick his ass—"

Instantly, the paparazzi princess crossed the room, planting herself between Nitro and the door, holding up both of her hands in a placating gesture. "Whoa! Johnny! Johnny! Hold on, okay?" She moved a little closer to her boyfriend, her gaze glued to his face as she spoke. "This is just what he wants; don't you get it? He wants you to get mad. For all we know, he wants you to storm out after him, just so he can hit you with a stepladder or whatever the hell he uses." The Dominant Diva reached up to caress Nitro's face, feeling some of the tension ease out of him at her touch. "In a few minutes, you'll be in the ring with him, where you'll have the advantage. And if that nobody gets knocked to the outside…" Melina shrugged innocently. "Well…that's why I'm here." She flicked her eyes back up to his face, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Do not let that loser get to you, baby."

Nitro stared back at her, and after several long tense moments, eventually sighed. "You're right, Mel," The Intercontinental Champion did not sound placated, however; merely grudgingly petulant. "As always, you're right." Was that a hint of sarcasm in his tone? Melina couldn't tell, and in the next instant, Nitro had pulled his designer sunglasses down over his eyes, effectively shielding his gaze from her view. "You ready to go?" While the sarcasm might have been debatable, there was no mistaking the impatience that had crept into his voice.

The paparazzi princess managed to hide her annoyance, making a mental note to have a little…discussion…with Johnny tonight after the show. He might be the Intercontinental Champion, but it was time she reminded him who was really in charge. Melina's full lips curled into a haughty smile. "Just a second," she cooed. Taking hold of Nitro's arm, she swung her body around to face the mirror, taking in her appearance one final time. With her free hand, she used her index finger to flick back an errant red-brown tress of hair. That accomplished, she swung back around to her original position in front of the Intercontinental Champion.

"Now I'm ready."

Jeff shook his head a little, trying to regain his senses. It wasn't easy; Nitro had him in a rear chin lock—a maneuver which was gradually cutting off the flow of oxygen to his brain—and had the damn thing cinched in good. It was taking all of his concentration, all of his energy, just to figure out how to break free before his strength was completely sapped.

A feat which wasn't being made any easier by the shrieking banshee at ringside.

Melina pounded on the ring apron with one perfectly manicured hand, holding onto the bottom rope with the other. "Come on, Nitro," she cried. "Get him!"

SHUT UP!...the Charismatic Enigma thought angrily to himself, but verbalized nothing. Berating Melina—as cathartic and well-deserved as it might be—would accomplish nothing. Right now, he had a submission hold to break out of.

Slowly, the Rainbow-Haired Warrior got to his knees, then to his feet. Locking his hands together, he drove his elbow into Nitro's gut once, twice, forcing the Intercontinental Champion to loosen the hold. Jeff staggered toward the corner, Nitro's arm still looped around his windpipe. He drew his arm back for a third elbow, but Nitro was quicker, releasing the submission hold and driving the younger Hardy brother into the corner with a modified Spear.

Jeff gagged as all the air was driven out of his lean frame. His entire body (in particular his lower back) was a throbbing network of pain. He couldn't even lift his arms to defend himself as Nitro lifted him bodily up, setting him on top of the turnbuckle and nailing him with a hard right hook to the jaw.

The Intercontinental Champion climbed the ropes, wrapping his arm around Jeff's neck again and pulling him to his feet to deliver a superplex. As soon as he felt his feet balancing unsteadily on the top rope, a burst of adrenaline slammed into Jeff, momentarily clearing his head. Moving purely on instinct, he jumped up and twisted around in mid-air, breaking free from Nitro's grip and landing safely on his feet in the ring.

The Intercontinental Champion was not so lucky; the maneuver knocked him off the ropes, almost tangling him up in the Tree of Woe. While the self-proclaimed A-lister tried to regain his footing, Jeff took advantage of the situation. Slipping under Nitro, he lifted the Intercontinental Champion up onto his shoulders, moving back toward the center of the ring. The Rainbow-Haired Warrior paused for a moment, and then fell back toward the mat, driving Nitro into the canvas with the Electric Chair.

As soon as his body touched down on the ring, Jeff felt pain flare upward through every limb. He lay there, dazed, listening to the various sounds filtering into his consciousness. Melina shrieking at ringside. The fans stomping and clapping their support. The authoritative bellow of referee Jack Doan's voice as he began the ten-count. The Charismatic Enigma felt his eyes start to drift close, and for a second, he was tempted to just let unconsciousness claim him. After all, it would be so much easier just to go to sleep and forget about the match. But as soon as the thought flitted across his brain, Jeff's eyes flew open. What was he thinking? This wasn't just any match; this was for the Intercontinental Championship. Besides…he was Jeff Hardy. The only way he was going to go down, the only way he would ever go down, was fighting.

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior rolled over onto his side, gingerly getting to his knees. A few feet away, he saw that Nitro was in the same predicament. Doan had just reached nine when both Superstars regained their footing, Nitro just a half-second quicker.

The Intercontinental Champion stormed toward Jeff, intending to take full advantage of this minute opportunity, but the Charismatic Enigma shot his fist out in defense, catching Nitro in the abdomen. Straightening up with visible effort, Jeff nailed the self-proclaimed A-lister with a few more shots, forcing Nitro back against the ropes. He grabbed Nitro's arm, swinging him into an Irish whip, but the Intercontinental Champion reversed the momentum. Jeff hit the ropes and launched himself back toward Nitro, taking down the pretty boy with a flying shoulder block.

Melina screamed, her shrill voice digging into Jeff's brain like needles, but the Rainbow Haired Warrior tuned her out. He was in the zone now, his mind and body operating in perfect harmony. Every move, every block, came to him naturally, without effort, and the Charismatic Enigma relinquished himself to the flow.

Nitro got unsteadily to his feet, only to be taken down with a clothesline. He rose a second time, but once again, was met with Jeff's forearm. The Rainbow-Haired Warrior hauled him up, pushing him against the ropes and swinging him into another Irish whip. This time, Nitro was too dazed to reverse it, hitting the opposite set of ropes and staggering right into a back body drop. Jeff grabbed the Intercontinental Champion's legs, dropping down into a pinning combination. In a flash, Doan was right next to him, slamming his hand down on the mat.

1…2…

The fans groaned in exasperation as Nitro managed to flip his body out of the pin. The Intercontinental Champion got to his feet, staggering to the corner to catch his breath. Jeff chased after him, intending to nail him with a few more hard shots, but instead was hit with a boot right to the jaw.

The Charismatic Enigma stumbled back, clutching his face with both hands. He had just ascertained that nothing was broken when he caught a flicker of movement at the corner of his vision, and glanced up just in time to see an airborne Nitro hurdling toward him. Jeff caught the self-proclaimed A-lister awkwardly and the two Superstars fell to the mat.

Nitro must have intended to follow the cross-body up with a pin, but Jeff was able to use the Intercontinental Champion's own momentum against him, rolling over and hooking his leg for the cover.

1…2…

Nitro jerked his right shoulder off the canvas, shoving the Rainbow-Haired Warrior off him. Jeff didn't pause. Using the ropes, he pulled himself back to his feet. He turned back toward the Intercontinental Champion. Nitro was crawling on his hands and knees with obvious effort, trying to make it to the ropes. He had just gotten one fingertip on the middle rope when Jeff grabbed a handful of his blond-streaked hair, hauling him ungraciously back up into a standing position.

Grasping Nitro by the wrist, he Irish-whipped him toward the far corner. Nitro was still too out of it to counter, and connected violently with the turnbuckle sternum-first. As he stumbled back toward the center, Jeff jogged around him easily, nimbly scaling to the top turnbuckle and flipping his body backward to nail Nitro with Whisper in the Wind.

The two Superstars hit the canvas with a resounding crash; Jeff was sure that he actually felt the ring shake. Off to his left, he could hear Melina screaming incoherently, her shrill cries loud and piercing enough to shatter glass. Jeff draped his body over Nitro, not even bothering to hook his leg this time.

1…2…

This time, it was Nitro's left shoulder that shot off the mat. The Rainbow-Haired Warrior sat up, grimacing in frustration. How could one pretty boy have so much fight left in him? If he wasn't such a total douchebag, Jeff could have almost admired him. Instead, the Charismatic Enigma's green eyes narrowed, as he quickly considered his next plan of attack. His gaze lit on the opposite turnbuckle post. Of course.

Getting back up, Jeff strode to the other corner of the ring, slipping between the ropes to the ring apron. He paused for a second or two, allowing the audience to absorb his choice of offense, before climbing the ropes to the top turnbuckle to deliver the Swanton.

He saw a flash of red dart toward him on his right, and looking over, saw Melina climb up onto the apron. Doan was able to intercept her before she could get close to Jeff, but that didn't stop the paparazzi princess from lunging toward him anyway, stabbing the air with her index finger. She yelled something derogatory, but the Charismatic Enigma barely heard it. For some reason, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her face. The passionate fire in her dark eyes, the hint of blond running through her reddish brown curls, the rise of her chest as she took in another lungful of air. Even though her face was contorted with fury and even though she was clearly on the side of the opposition, Jeff had to admit that she was, well, beautiful.

And for one instant, one single moment in time, the Rainbow-Haired Warrior hesitated.

He wasn't really sure what happened next; all he remembered was feeling something knock him off balance, before tumbling down head over heels to the broad white expanse of the canvas. Jeff connected tailbone-first, his already-sore back crying out in even greater agony. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Nitro hanging onto the ropes for support. Off to the side, Melina backed away from the ring, both arms extended in the air as she made a big show of playing innocent.

Jeff's green eyes narrowed to dangerously small slits. So that was how they played their little game: Melina provided the distraction, which allowed her boyfriend to slip in out of nowhere. Well, that was the last distraction they were going to get on Jeff Nero Hardy.

The Intercontinental Champion came out of the corner, his arms reaching for Jeff, but the Charismatic Enigma batted his hands away, nailing him instead with a stiff boot to the gut. Tucking Nitro's head under one arm, he held out his other, yelling wordlessly with anger and aggression. Jumping and twisting in midair, he slammed the self-proclaimed A-lister down to the mat with a brutal Twist of Fate. The fans erupted into a cacophony of cheering. Jeff picked himself up, crawling on hands and knees to get the pin, the Intercontinental Championship so close that he could almost feel its cool polished surface beneath his fingers…

1…2…

But instead of the third and final vibration of Doan's hand hitting the mat, the Rainbow-Haired Warrior instead heard the referee's outraged shout: "What the hell are you doing?"

Looking over in surprise, Jeff's eyes widened when he saw Melina in the ring, both of her hands wrapped tightly around Doan's wrist. Incredible—the harpy had actually threw herself into the squared circle and grabbed the referee's hand before he could complete the three-count. The corner of Jeff's mouth twitched in a smile. The little princess must really be desperate. His amusement didn't last long, however, as Doan pried his wrist free, scrambling to his feet and motioning for the bell, calling for a disqualification.

The Charismatic Enigma's mouth dropped open in shock and outrage. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me—" he muttered under his breath, getting to his knees. That was all he got out before Nitro was somehow magically on his feet again, driving an elbow into Jeff's spine.

The still-Intercontinental Champion got back to his feet, his handsome features twisted with distaste. "You fucking piece of shit—" he spat. He reached down, grabbing a handful of Jeff's multihued hair and pulling him to his feet. Jeff barely heard him, however; all he was aware of was a barely discernible veil of red clamping down over his vision…

Swinging his hands up, he broke Nitro's grip, taking hold of the pretty boy's hair and throwing him down with a facebuster. Without even pausing, he climbed the top turnbuckle and dove downward to nail the Intercontinental Champion with the Swanton, hearing the satisfying "OOOF" as all of the air was driven out of Nitro's lungs.

The offensive maneuver took almost as much out of Jeff as it did out of Nitro, and for a few seconds, the Rainbow-Haired Warrior lay on the canvas, trying to will his limbs back into obedience. He gradually opened his eyes, and was greeted by the familiar concerned face of Jack Doan. "You all right, Jeff?" The Charismatic Enigma said nothing; only rolled over onto his stomach, and pushed himself to his knees, then his feet.

His eyes immediately locked onto the familiar figures of the A-list couple. Melina was supporting a dazed Nitro, almost collapsing between her boyfriend's weight. Her expression, as she glanced back toward the ring, was fearful. Nitro looked like he didn't even know where he was at; the only thing he seemed capable of doing was holding onto his precious Intercontinental Championship with both arms.

Jeff felt Doan tentatively raise his own arm in victory, and quickly yanked it away, annoyed. "What the hell are you doing that for?" he asked furiously. His gaze swung back to the A-list couple retreating up the ramp. "I didn't win anything," he added under his breath.

As though his eyes had a mind of their own, he found himself staring at Melina once again. Her dark eyes locked onto his green ones, and there was just a moment, just an instant, where he could have sworn he saw her pause. Then, in the next moment, her terrified expression transformed into something spiteful and she began screaming, spitting out threats that he was—once again—too far away to hear.

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior stared hard at the Dominant Diva, his own irritated countenance never changing. "Bring it on, princess," he whispered.

"Bring it on…"

Melina steered Nitro toward an unoccupied corner of the gorilla position, carefully checking him for any injuries she might have missed out in the arena. "Johnny, are you all right?" she asked, her tone concerned. Reaching up, she touched her boyfriend's face, gently caressing his cheek. "How's your head feeling, baby?"

Nitro swatted her hand away irritably. "Jesus Christ, would you lay off for a second?" he snarled. "Just back off and give me a chance to breathe."

The paparazzi princess obliged, albeit warily. Johnny usually never snapped at her, and even though he had good cause to be in a foul mood—no one wanted to be on the receiving end of a Swanton—there was something in his face, in his voice, that she just didn't like.

Nitro bent over, still clutching his blue-and-gold title belt to his chest, as he took in several deep breaths. That task accomplished, he glanced back up at her, exasperation still written across his features. "Where the hell were you?" he demanded. Melina's mouth fell open in shock, and before she could muster enough breath to respond, the Intercontinental Champion rushed on. "How could you let him hit me with that fucking swan dive of his? That motherfucker hurts!" He held onto the Intercontinental Championship even tighter, as though the title belt was a magic blanky, capable of protecting him from monsters like Jeff Hardy.

The Dominant Diva stood there, frozen, for a second or two. She blinked slowly, trying to process what she had just heard. Then, all at once, her emotional flood gates burst open, her rage exploding outward. "Excuse me?" she replied, spitting out the syllables. "Excuse me? Where was I? I'm pretty sure that I was out there, saving your ass from becoming a former Intercontinental Champion!"

Nitro's aggravated countenance vanished, and he backed away, obviously already regretting his choice of words. But it was too late to take it back; Melina's fury had been unleashed. She took a step toward her boyfriend, feeling a small thrill at seeing him retreat from her. "And as for how could I…" She threw up her hands in an exaggerated gesture of ignorance. "What the hell was I supposed to do, Johnny? Throw myself on top of you as a human shield? He hates me just as much as he hates you—he would have Swantoned us both."

Melina's shoulders slumped, and she shook her head slowly, letting out a sigh. "I love you, Johnny," she finally said. "But sometimes, you are so fucking stupid—"

Her sentence was cut off as someone ran into her, knocking her off-balance. Nitro quickly put one arm out to steady her, pulling her against his chest before she could fall. Melina regained her footing, and looked around to see who the guilty culprit had been. Her brown eyes blazed with ire when she spotted a familiar figure making his way down the hall. Even from this distance, Jeff's purple hair was unmistakable.

The paparazzi princess carefully disentangled herself from Nitro's embrace, taking a step back. "Excuse me, baby," she cooed, her voice as cold and brittle as ice. "I'll take care of this."

Elbowing her way through the crush of bodies, she set off in pursuit of the Charismatic Enigma.

The younger Hardy brother must have been really pissed, since he didn't even seem to notice the sharp click of her boot heels on the concrete. Or maybe he did notice, and was just ignoring her, hoping she would go away. Fat chance of that. Melina had told Jeff that it would play out like this, and right now, after what she had gone through to secure a win for her man, she was entitled to a little gloating.

The two of them had come to a deserted hallway; Jeff out in front, the Dominant Diva several yards behind. Melina stopped, tilting her chin up haughtily. "Hey, Hardy!" she called out, her voice full of derision.

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior ground to a halt, but didn't turn around. At his sides, his hands clenched into fists. Melina made her way toward him, putting one foot daintily in front of the other. "Told you couldn't get the job done." The triumph in her tone was evident. "Guess you'll have to put your tail between your legs and crawl back down whatever hole you crawled out of."

Jeff didn't respond; didn't even turn around. Melina paused, and for a moment, her smirk faltered, but she rapidly regained her confidence. "How does it feel?" she went. "Knowing you came back for nothing? Knowing you just showed the whole world how big a loser you are?"

No answer from the Charismatic Enigma. Melina was starting to become unnerved; most guys would have cracked by now. Still, she forced herself to continue. She was almost at Jeff's side now. The paparazzi princess reached out, laying one slender-fingered hand on his arm. "Waste of time if you ask me; you were better off never coming back—"

Her flow of words was cut off as Jeff's fingers abruptly clamped around hers. His touch burned, and Melina gasped, struggled to pull herself free. The Rainbow-Haired Warrior whirled around, and the Dominant Diva slowly felt her resistance drain away. There was something in Jeff's green eyes that made her want to stop fighting.

The Charismatic Enigma regarded her hand for a second or two, and then flung it back toward her, releasing his grip. Melina stumbled back a pace or two, almost falling. Jeff raised his hand, pointing at her. His tone was terse, his Southern accent adding only the slightest slur to his voice. "Don't…touch…me, princess." There was nothing in his face; all of the intensity was in his voice…and his eyes. Jeff stared at the paparazzi princess for a second or two, his gaze making a subtle sweep of her body. "I'm not your boyfriend." Without adding anything further, he turned on his heel, moving away from her.

Melina stood there for a heartbeat or two, stunned. Slowly, she realized that she had just been appraised—and found lacking. The Dominant Diva's lips peeled back from her teeth in a snarl. Who the hell did this guy think he was? She was the hottest Diva on Monday Night Raw—if there was anyone lacking, it was Jeff Hardy.

She stormed after the Rainbow-Haired Warrior, her boots beating out a furious rhythm on the cement. "Good!" she spat. "At least that's one thing we agree on!" The paparazzi princess's beautiful features warped into a sneer. "Like I'd ever go for someone like you, anyway!" She halted, eying him with disdain. "You…you don't even measure up."

That did it. Before Melina knew what was happened, Jeff had turned around, moving with a quickness and ferocity she didn't know he was capable of. The Charismatic Enigma indicated himself. "I don't measure up?" he retorted. His emerald gaze burned into her. "Listen, princess, the only thing your boyfriend proved tonight is that he can't even win a match without his girlfriend's help."

Jeff was almost right in front of her, but he didn't stop, didn't even slow down. Melina was forced to back up away from him, almost falling over her stilettos in the process. In the back of her mind, she was vaguely aware that she might have gone too far. The Dominant Diva let out a yelp as the small of her back dug into the edge of an equipment crate. Before she could sidle around it, Jeff was on her, planting his hands on either side of the crate, pinning her between his arms.

Melina slowly tilted her head up, trying her best not to whimper. She wished that Johnny, that anybody, would come around the corner right now, giving her that half-second she needed to escape. But even as she thought it, she knew that it was pointless. Johnny wasn't coming. Nobody was coming. The only people here were her…and one very pissed-off Jeff Hardy.

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior leaned down, his face only inches from hers. Melina could feel the heat coming off of him in waves; she could feel herself being drawn toward the warmth. She slowly lifted her gaze, studying Jeff's face: the curves and planes of his features, the unusual lines of his facial hair, and finally, his eyes. As soon as her eyes locked onto those green irises, Melina felt her stomach clench suddenly, as though someone had kicked her in the gut.

The younger Hardy brother was talking now, his breath hitting her face like a warm breeze. "And the only thing you proved tonight is that you're nothing more than a golddigging bitch."

The insult was so unexpected that Melina didn't know how to react at first. For a moment, she stood there, mouth moving soundlessly. Then, with a shrill shriek, she swung her hand up, slapping Jeff across the face as hard as she could. The Charismatic Enigma's head snapped to the side, but his expression didn't change. He reached up and touched his cheek, where the red outline of a hand was gradually becoming visible. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a smirk. "Thanks, princess," he remarked.

He turned, regarding the angry Diva in front of him. Melina's full lips were trembling; her chest rose and fell with each furious breath. Jeff's smile widened just a touch. He tapped his cheek. "I'll keep this in mind next time I start thinking that you might actually have a heart." Moving backward, he turned away from the paparazzi princess, strolling down the hall and turning a corner out of sight.

As soon as he disappeared from her view, the Dominant Diva screamed, her high-pitched voice echoing off the walls. She pushed her red-brown hair violent back from her face, almost hard enough to rip tresses out by the roots. Her heart was racing so fast that she thought she was going to have a stroke. Melina pressed both hands to her mouth, pacing back and forth for a few seconds.

All of a sudden, she stopped, her gaze shooting down to where she had last seen the Rainbow-Haired Warrior. Melina's dark eyes narrowed. That shit…didn't he know who he was dealing with? He could leave, but only after she told him he could leave.

With swift furious strides, the paparazzi princess hurried after Jeff, rounding the corner, her mouth curving in a malicious smile at the sight of the younger Hardy brother near the end of the hallway—a smile which quickly vanished when she saw that he wasn't alone.

Maria was making a fuss over Jeff, checking him over with the same care and concern that Melina had shown toward Nitro only a few minutes early. Even from several yards away, the backstage reporter's bubbly Barbie-doll voice was clearly audible. "Oh my God, Jeff! I saw your match—are you okay?"

Jeff shook off her ministrations, though with considerably more affection than Nitro had shown. "I'm fine, 'Ria. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" Maria pressed. "What happened to your face?" As Melina watched, the backstage reporter reached up, running her fingers gently down the Rainbow-Haired Warrior's cheek, her big eyes fixed adoringly on Jeff's face. The Charismatic Enigma glanced up, smiling, and reached over to cup Maria's cheek in his hand.

Melina felt her chest grow almost unbearably tight, and she felt an odd tickling sensation in her throat, as though she was trying to swallow her tears. Pressing her lips together in a thin line, she spun around, moving rapidly back the way she had come.

This was ridiculous. She was going to go back to gorilla, grab Johnny, and pretend that the last five minutes had never happened…

Jeff looked over sharply. The hallway off to his left was deserted, but he could have sworn that he had just seen something—

Maria followed his gaze, her countenance puzzled. "Jeff?" she asked, her tone concerned. "Jeff, what is it?"

The Charismatic Enigma turned back toward her, his face relaxed into a grin. "Nothing," he replied after a few seconds. Moving closer, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "C'mon, how about you come with me to the trainer's?" Maria's face brightened, and she eagerly nodded.

As the pair walked down the corridor, however, Jeff found his thoughts returning to that brief glimpse of movement, that flash of red that was all too familiar. But that was insane. To think that Melina had followed him, had seen him with Maria…

Even if she had…why would she care?

Even more importantly…why did he?