FINAL DESTINATION

GOOD FRIDAY, APRIL 13TH, 2001

"Next, please."

Test and Angel didn’t hear. They were locked together in a passionate and very public kiss.

"Sir, ma’am, may I help you?"

Finally, they broke apart.

"Sorry," Test said sheepishly, stepping up to the counter and handing his ticket to the receptionist, who ran it through the computer and printed the boarding pass.

"Do you have any bags to check?"

Test nodded and lifted his suitcases onto the scales with far greater ease than he could have if he was a normal person.

"Here is your boarding pass, and I hope you enjoy your flight," the receptionist smiled mechanically.

"Hey Angel," Test called over his shoulder. "I know you’re not flying for a while, but do you want to check your cases in now anyway?"

Angel froze and thought quickly. "No, I’m um…I’m not flying with this airline," she stage-whispered, knowing both Test and the receptionist could hear her.

"Oh, okay," Test nodded and turned back to the desk. "Thanks." He stepped over to Angel and picked up her cases as though they weighed nothing. Angel lifted her gym bag to her shoulder and slipped her arm through his.

"So, you’re going home to do the whole family thing?" she asked.

"Yeah," Test nodded. "Seeing the parents, the siblings, the pets. Should be good."

"Yeah, it sounds good," Angel smiled, feeling her heart tug a little for her own family. She regretted the fact that she couldn’t go back to Australia and see them, but three days just wasn’t enough time. She’d have to be contented with a phone call…from wherever she found herself on Saturday night.

"How about you?" Test asked.

"Yeah," Angel replied. "I mean, I’m doing the whole aunts, uncles and cousins thing." She lied smoothly. After all, that was where everyone expected her to go. Only Benoit knew better, and he didn’t care.

"Well, it’s good to get away for awhile anyway," Test shrugged.

"It sure is," Angel smiled, her good humor restored. No Benoit for three whole days. Even if she ended up alone, this was absolute heaven.

Angel and Test made more small talk and just enjoyed each other’s company as they made their way to Test’s gate, then sat down to wait for his flight to be called.

The airport was crowded – it was Good Friday, after all – but that didn’t stop Angel from spotting two people she knew, right near where she and Test were sitting.

"Edge! Christian!" she shouted, standing on her seat so they could see her.

They didn’t seem to hear. Christian was saying something to Edge, who grinned that perfect grin.

"Edge! Christian!" she screamed again. People were staring now, but she didn’t care as she waved her arms frantically to get their attention. Still they didn’t notice.

"Hey Angel," Test said, tugging at her arm. "Sit down. You’re making a scene."

"Yeah, just a minute," Angel dismissed him. "Edge! Christian!"

"You shouldn’t call wrestler’s names in a crowded airport," Test informed her, but he should have saved his breath. She wasn’t listening.

"Edge! Christian! Over here!"

Finally, they both stopped talking and turned towards Angel. They were wearing shades, but it definitely seemed like they were staring straight at her. Finally, they’d heard her. But just then, Edge said something to Christian. He nodded and they walked away. Angel jumped to the ground and started to run after them, but Test caught her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap.

"Where you going?" he teased. "I might only have a few minutes with you and you’re skipping out on me?"

"I know," Angel sighed. "But I wanted to talk to them. I guess they didn’t see me."

"Look, Angel," Test started, wrapping his arms around her and staring deep into her eyes. "Forget about those jerks. It’s bad enough I have to share a hometown with them, I don’t need them making you all upset too. You don’t need them anyway. You’ve got me now."

Angel was about to argue, but then swallowed her words. Deal with Test now. There would be plenty of time to hang out with Edge and Christian once she was free. So she smiled at Test and relaxed into his embrace.

"I’m pretty lucky, aren’t I?"

Test nodded dreamily. "That makes two of us."

He brought his lips down on hers as she closed her eyes and looped her arms around his neck. No, getting Test to fight Benoit was definitely not going to be a chore. Finally, work was meeting pleasure and Angel didn’t mind one little bit.

* * * *

Angel sat on her cases, staring numbly at the destination board. So many places, but where to go? She’d seen Test onto his plane (after another fruitless attempt at getting Edge and Christian to notice her), and now, almost two hours later, she was still sitting and trying to figure out where to go.

"Somewhere warm," she decided, snuggling into her winter coat. She’d had about all she could take of these messed-up seasons, having spent all her years in either Florida or Australia. But Florida, or at least Fort Lauderdale, was out.

Miami? No, too dangerous. Tallahassee? Get real. Key West? No, I get enough of that with Benoit and Jericho. She smiled to herself. Too bad they weren’t around to hear that slam. Maybe Orlando? No, forget Florida. If she had to spend Easter alone, she was going someplace different. Someplace she hadn’t already visited a thousand times. Her eyes fell on a destination. New Orleans. That would have been fun a few weeks ago for Mardi Gras. Now it would be just like Angel herself. Tired, lonely and depressed. Vacant of all life and celebration.

"Could be just what the doctor ordered," Angel decided, picking up the guidebook she’d bought after leaving Test and rummaging through it.

"New Orleans, Louisiana. New Orleans loves to party," Angel read. "From late February there is no escaping…"

"Hey there! You’re Jeff Hardy’s girlfriend, right?"

Positive she was just hearing the products of her warped mind, Angel didn’t look up, instead concentrating on the sights and sounds "N’Awlins" had to offer. She’d been there once, in January, Royal Rumble time, but that had been just after the ringbell to the head, and she really hadn’t been in a sightseeing mood. Faced with the decision now, it seemed as good a place as ever.

"I said hello! God, how rude are you?"

Angel peered up absently and discovered that, indeed, someone was talking to her. Just in front of her, a blonde woman stood with her hands on her hips and an indignant expression on her face. She was definitely not dressed for flying, in knee-high boots, a short teal skirt and matching cowboy hat, a black top (very low cut, of course) and a long black leather coat.

"Sorry," Angel said sheepishly. "I was miles away. Lost in the wonders of the French Quarter."

"Oh, you’re French?" the woman cried. She excitedly extended her manicured hand. "Je’mapelle Trish."

Angel stared at her, dumbfounded, then tentatively shook her hand. "I don’t speak French. I was just thinking about visiting New Orleans."

"Oh!" Trish broke into a grin and shrugged. "What I said was ‘my name’s Trish’. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. I’ve only ever known you as Jeff Hardy’s little girlfriend."

Angel frowned at that little piece of information. "I’m Angel," she replied. "And I’m not."

"Not?" Trish creased her brow and pouted slightly.

"Not Jeff’s girlfriend," Angel explained.

"Oh." Trish’s frown deepened. "Are you sure?"

Angel gave an ironic smile. "Yeah. I think I’d know."

"Yeah, of course," Trish nodded. "It’s just…that’s what Vince…I mean, Mr. McMahon, always used to call you. Because, you know, I usually don’t care much about what other people are doing, but Vince, it’s his empire. He has to know what’s going on and who people are. He’s always watching the shows and that’s when I saw you the first time. You have to worry about new people, you know, because you never know who’s gonna try and take your place. So when I saw you, I was like, ‘who’s she?’ because you’re pretty and all, in that tomboyish hardcore chick way some guys are into. And Vince was like, ‘oh, that’s Jeff Hardy’s little girlfriend’. So I was like, ‘Okay, that’s good. No competition’. No offence, that’s just what I thought. " She finally stopped to take a breath and give Angel a winning smile.

"Well, I’m not Jeff’s girlfriend," Angel said, while she could get a word in. "Not anymore, if that’s ever what I was."

"Oh, I get it," Trish said, flipping her hair. "So, where are you headed?"

Angel frowned at her. For all Trish’s talking she’d forgotten they were in an airport. "I don’t know yet." She shrugged indifferently. "But I’m thinking New Orleans."

Trish’s face fell. "You’re not going to see your family?"

"No," Angel shook her head. "There’s not enough time to get to and from Australia by Monday."

"Oh, you’re Australian!" Trish cried. "I mean, I knew you talked funny. Wow, that is so cool!"

"Thanks," Angel said evenly.

"But you can’t go home for Easter?" Trish frowned. "That’s awful! What are you going to do?"

Angel frowned, deciding Trish sounded far too concerned for someone she’d just met. "I just thought I’d take a vacation."

"On your own?"

"Well, yeah."

"No, you can’t do that!" Trish cried. "That’s just awful."

"Well," Angel shrugged. "I don’t have much of a choice."

"I know!" Trish announced, her face bursting to life. "Have you bought your ticket yet?"

Angel shook her head.

"Great! Then you can come home with me!"

Angel frowned at her. Was she for real? "No, it’s okay. I enjoy my own company. Really."

"You do?" Trish asked. "How?" she rushed on, with no clue she was being rude. "Come on. Yo have nowhere to go and I heard it’s just not safe for a woman to travel alone. Especially a pretty woman like me or you."

Angel was still staring at her skeptically.

"Come on!" Trish insisted. "My family will love you. They always liked having those foreign exchange students over for dinner or whatever. It’ll be great!"

Angel gave a small smile. Trish actually reminded her a lot of the Kat, which was the last thing she would have expected. "Where do you live, Trish?"

"Toronto. Go Maple Leafs!" she grinned with cheerleader perkiness.

"Toronto?" Angel repeated.

"Well, you didn’t think I was American, did you?" Trish asked with false hurt.

Angel shook her head. "It’s just that everyone who was going to Toronto has already left."

"I know," Trish shrugged. "I was still getting ready so I missed the flight. Don’t worry, I’ll get us on the next one. You are coming with me, right?"

"I don’t know, Trish," Angel sighed. "I kind of have my heart set on New Orleans."

"You’ll have way more fun with me than down there!" Trish cried. "We’ll check out the clubs, we’ll go shopping. I’ll show you everything there is to see. I’ll be like your foster family for the weekend."

Angel smiled at her. Despite what everyone in the locker room said about Trish, that actually did sound like fun. Better than slumming in a New Orleans youth hostel, anyway.

"Okay, Trish. You’re on."

"Great!" Trish applauded. Let’s go get our tickets." She turned and spoke to a guy Angel hadn’t even seen standing behind her. "Darren, could you be a dear and take my friend’s bags, too? Thank you so much."

The poor guy loaded himself up with both Trish and Angel’s bags as they headed towards the check-in desk.

"Trish," Angel started. "Who is that guy?"

"I have no idea," Trish shrugged cheerfully. "He asked if he could carry my bags and he just looked so darn hopeful I just had to let him."

Angel shook her head in amazement. Incredible. But she hadn’t seen the last of Trish’s persuasive powers.

"Okay, Angel," she said as the reached the front of the line. "I don’t know how much it costs, so just give me a hundred dollars and I’ll do the rest."

Angel frowned. Was Trish just going to take her money and run?

‘Are you kidding?’ she asked herself. 'Trish’s foundation probably cost that much. If she’s going to rip you off, she’ll take you for more than that. Like poor old Darren over there, who Angel had found out was actually called Darrell. He’d already paid for Trish’s lunch and was still following her around like a lovesick puppy.

"Trish, I can’t let you pay for my ticket."

Trish simply gave her an ‘are you crazy?’ look. "Just trust me, okay?"

Angel shrugged and handed over the money and in a few minutes, Trish was back.

"Voila!" she cried, handing over Angel’s boarding pass with a triumphant expression. "They were kind of just an eensy bit booked out, but don’t worry. We got seats."

Angel frowned at the boarding pass. It seemed legitimate; it had her name printed on it and everything. There was just one thing wrong. It was a first class seat.

"Trish, how much did this cost?"

Trish gave her a secretive smile. "A hundred dollars."

Angel shook her head in disbelief. She was about to ask how Trish had done that, but seeing Darrell trailing behind them, burdened under the weight of a zillion cases, she decided maybe it was best not to ask. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to know.

* * * *

Angel relaxed into her chair.

"Ah, this is the life," she smiled.

"I know," Trish grinned. "I never fly anything else. Of course, even this is a step down from Vince’s private jet, but it’s okay. It was worth it. My parents always told me, ‘Trish, always make sure you do what feels right in your heart’. So I did and I didn’t even get fired, so it all turned out for the best."

Angel smiled at her. Anyone who had the guts to slap Vince McMahon in the face on the biggest night of the sports entertainment year had to be worth getting to know. Of course, Trish was doing most of the talking. Angel couldn’t shut her up. But she discovered she didn’t mind. Trish’s endless gossip was a welcome relief after Benoit’s usual monosyllabic exchanges.

"He really likes you, you know," Trish went on. "As much as he likes anyone."

"Who?" Angel asked, realizing she hadn’t been paying attention.

"Vince McMahon. I mean, he didn’t at first, but he was so impressed when you got that little petition thing signed. He didn’t think you could do it, so then when you did he really changed his tune. He said to me ‘Jeff Hardy’s little girlfriend sure is sharp. She’s going places, Trish. She’s going to be one hell of a manager some day’."

Angel raised her eyebrows. How ironic was that?

"Funny you should say that," she replied, figuring a gossip queen like Trish should be brought up to speed. "I’m managing now."

"Really? Who?" Trish asked, fascinated.

"Chris Benoit." His name still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Really?" Trish said again. "Well, way to go. He might not have been my choice but he does have…" She searched hard for a compliment. "A great body. Of yeah! A fantastic body. And he’s the strong, silent type, which is never a bad thing. I always like my men to shut up. Sometimes they just talk and talk, you just want to grab them and go…"

"Wait a minute," Angel cut in, her face the picture of disgust. "I’m not sleeping with him."

"You’re not?" Trish frowned. "But you said you’re his manager."

"I am," Angel said through clenched teeth. "It’s a business relationship."

"I get it," Trish grinned. "A ‘business relationship’. Like he’s the suit and you’re the secretary."

"No, I don’t think you do get it," Angel scowled, giving Trish the deadliest of glares. "I am not sleeping with Chris Benoit."

"Okay," Trish cringed, backing away a little. "We won’t talk about that anymore."

"Good," Angel fumed.

"So, who are you sleeping with, then?" Trish asked, perkiness restored. "I mean, are you seeing anyone? Not Jeff, not Chris, but someone?"

Angel allowed herself a small smile as she thought of Test. "Yeah, I am." Suddenly she realized just who she was talking to and the relationship she’d formerly had with Test. She knew Trish’s next question was going to be who was Angel’s mystery lover and that really wasn’t a skeleton she wanted to set free. Not until the return trip, anyway. "Well, sort of," she covered.

"Sort of?" Trish repeated, brows knitted with intrigue. "Who is it?"

'Great work, Angel,’ she chided herself. "Oh, it’s really new, and I kind of don’t want to jinx it," she explained and it was sort of true.

Trish smiled at her and she knew she was safe, at least for now. "That’s okay, I understand. So, who was your first?"

Angel laughed, her first natural laugh for some time. "That’s going a bit far into the past, isn’t it?"

"No, I mean your first wrestler." Trish raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh," Angel said, going a little pale. "Um, no one. Not yet, anyway."

Trish frowned. "Not even Jeff?"

Angel shook her head. "No. We never got that far."

"You mean to tell me you’ve been here…how long?"

Angel counted silently. "Three months."

"Three months," Trish repeated. "And you’ve been completely celibate?"

"Well, not completely," Angel grinned. "Tim…my then-boyfriend, visited from Australia for a week."

"Okay then," Trish nodded. "So you’re not a nun."

"A nun!" Angel laughed, suddenly finding herself in a good mood. "Do I look like one?"

"No," Trish replied. "But Ivory, on the other hand…"

Angel laughed, having been thinking exactly the same thing. "Right with you, Trish."

Trish grinned at her. "Wanna know who my first wrestler was?"

Angel thought about it, positive she was about to enter too much information land, but discovering she actually wanted to know. "Sure."

"Albert," Trish replied instantly.

"Albert?" Angel cried. "I don’t see him as your type."

"I like them burly," Trish informed her. "And besides, I have two words for you. Tongue ring."

Angel giggled like a schoolgirl. Girl talk was so therapeutic. For a moment she felt a pang for Lita, her cousin, but she shrugged it off. That was the past now.

"You know who thinks he’s good but he’s really not?" Trish asked suddenly.

"Vince McMahon?" Angel guessed.

Trish frowned. "Watch out. Talk like that can get you fired," she warned.

"Not me," Angel shrugged. "Benoit owns me, not Vince."

"Still, if Vince wanted you gone…" Trish continued, before returning to the topic. "I was actually talking about Val Venis."

"Really?" Angel laughed. "Hey, he joined RTC just after you were his manager, right? What did you do, tell him or something?"

"Angel," Trish scolded. "Do you really think I’d be that cruel? That would destroy a man!"

They laughed together for awhile. Angel was already glad she’d decided to join Trish for the weekend.

"You know who’s real good, though?" Trish asked.

"Vince McMahon?" Angel guessed again.

Trish shook her head and laughed. "You’ve gotta stop doing that."

Angel grinned at her. "Sorry. Who?"

"Test."

Angel nearly choked on her scotch on the rocks. If Benoit had seen her drinking that, he would have had an aneurysm…just like Angel right now.

"Did you say Test?" she spluttered.

"I know, it’s weird," Trish said reflectively. "He doesn’t seem to be anything special, but he does this thing with his tongue that just makes you…" She caught sight of Angel’s stricken face and cut off. "Sorry. You probably don’t want to hear that, do you?"

"It’s okay," Angel breathed. Maybe Test wasn’t just a good kisser…

"Okay," Trish said slowly. "So maybe you haven’t had sex with any wrestlers yet. Although I do recommend it. Great bodies, incredible endurance. Anyway, I was saying…oh yeah. You must have kissed some of them surely?"

Angel nodded.

"Okay." Trish smiled. "Who was your first wrestler kiss?"

Angel laughed out loud as she remembered. "Dean Malenko."

"What?" Trish cried. "Malenko? Why? I mean, even I…" She just left that one to hang.

"There’s an explanation," Angel laughed. "He wouldn’t get off Lita, so I did the first thing I thought of. And then I got the pleasure of his tongue down my throat."

"Ugh." Trish made a face. "But we’ve all done that. It doesn’t count. Who was the first wrestler you kissed and meant it?"

Angel paused and searched for the truth. "Jeff," she said at last, her voice catching a little in her throat. She scowled at herself and regained her composure. "It was Jeff," she finished, voice back to its normal indifference.

"Oh really?" Trish frowned sympathetically. "What happened between you two?"

Angel lowered her gaze. "If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it."

‘And I don’t need your pity,’ she added in her mind.

"Okay, sorry," Trish replied. "I do know how that is, though. When you find yourself on a different team to someone you love. And you know there’s nothing you can do about it because nothing can fix it. Nothing can bridge that gap. You just have to move on and hope you can find someone else, because all those stupid love songs are full of crap. Love can’t always carry you through."

Angel glared at her defensively. "I’m not in love with Jeff."

‘No?’ asked her conscience. ‘Then why does it hurt so much every time you hear his name?’

‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ another part of her argued. ‘It hurts when you hear Lita’s name and she’s just your cousin…and you’re not a Holly.’

Trish didn’t seem to notice her inner turmoil. She had some of her own.

"I was," she said quietly.

Angel spun accusingly before she could stop herself.

"Not Jeff, I mean," Trish went on, a far away look in her eyes. "That guy I was talking about. He didn’t think I loved him, but I did. I really did. I still do, actually. I probably always will. But it doesn’t matter. We just weren’t meant to be. He probably doesn’t even think of me at all." She shrugged and tried to smile.

Now Angel was the one giving sympathy. "Oh Trish. Who was it?"

Trish gave her a little frown. "I can’t tell you. I really shouldn’t have brought it up at all. I’m still trying to get over it. Still…" She sighed.

"Come on, Trish. You can’t tell me a tragic story like that and then leave me in suspense."

"Okay, I’ll tell you," Trish nodded. "If you tell me who your mystery man is."

"That’s not going to be happening," Angel blurted.

"Oh well," Trish shrugged. "I guess we’ll both never know."

Angel stared at her like a child whose favorite toy is frustratingly just out of reach. "Don’t leave me hanging. At least tell me how much he weighs."

Trish frowned at her. "You’re probably one of those people who knows all the wrestlers by their weights, aren’t you?"

"No," Angel lied.

"Okay," Trish grinned. "He’s about three hundred. Told you I like them burly."

"Three hundred, huh?" Angel mused, knowing Trish would tell her if she pressed hard enough. "Is it Bull Buchanan?"

"No!" Trish cried.

"Kane?"

"Guess again."

"The Rock?"

"Nope."

"Undertaker?"

"You know," Trish told her. "Even if you guess right, I’ll still say no."

"Maybe," Angel agreed. "But your voice will change, so I’ll be able to tell."

"Never!" Trish cried. "I’m a great actress."

They both giggled and Angel guessed some more names.

"The Goodfather?"

"No."

"Haku?"

"Ha! No."

"It’s Haku, isn’t it?" Angel teased, knowing it wasn’t. She and Trish laughed together as Angel kept guessing and Trish kept negating the guesses. Angel knew they were acting like a couple of fifteen-year-olds, but she didn’t care. She was feeling an emotion that was all too foreign to her. Happiness.