TAPPING OUT

SMACKDOWN, MAY 24TH, 2001

Angel and Benoit circled each other. This was it…Thursday training. No drills, no theory, just a match. When it was over, so was training. There was no time for anything more. Tonight, they both had big matches. Angel had her debut against Stephanie, but that was nothing compared with what Benoit and Jericho were facing. For their first SmackDown as tag champs they had their first title defense, against three other teams - Edge and Christian, the Dudleyz and the Hardyz. But that wasn't all. This wasn't your average tag team match. This was TLC. Tables, ladders and chairs. Benoit and Jericho had been in ladder matches, they'd hit people with and been hit by chairs, they'd gone through tables. But that wasn't the same as all three at once. The other teams had the advantage - they'd been in two TLC matches, both of which had been won by Edge and Christian. All this would have been at the forefront of Vince McMahon's mind when he made the match. One thing was for sure. Angel, Chris Jericho and Chris Benoit were not Vinnie's favorite people in the world.

Angel watched Benoit carefully. Her strategy had worked well in the past - eye him off, wait for him to swing and duck it into the DDT. So she waited. Benoit approached her. She stood her ground. His right hand started to swing, so she ducked and reached out to grab him around the shoulders. But there was nothing to grab as bam! Benoit's feet slammed into her head in a standing dropkick and she hit the deck.

"Not this time, bitch!" Benoit screamed, picking her up and forming the waistlock.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Three Germans and she was flat on her back. Benoit hooked both of her legs. This one was finishing early. But suddenly she raised her shoulders and kept going, flipping him over into the rollup. Benoit kicked out quickly and they both sprang to their feet before circling and regrouping.

Angel held out her hands and beckoned him. "Come on, asshole."

Benoit, too, spread his arms. If the bitch wanted to grapple, they'd grapple. Then they'd see who the damn shooter was. So he didn't run at her. He approached her slowly and they locked up, but she sank a knee into his stomach, then grabbed his head and used his own momentum to carry them over into the DDT. Angel raced for the ropes and climbed. She took off in a second rope moonsault, hit it and hooked his leg. Benoit threw her away furiously and bounced to his feet. She'd surprised him with that knee, but if that was how she wanted to play…

He grabbed her arm and sent her for an Irish whip, then spun her over with a knee to the abdomen. She hit the deck, but he wasn't finished yet, grabbing her by that damn spiky hair and dropping her over his knee in a gutbuster. She cried out and started coughing, but Benoit wrenched her up by the hair again and sent her for another whip. She bounced off the ropes and he readied his knee, but she grabbed for his head and brought him down too. Headlock takedown.

Angel made it to a crouching position and sucked air into her lungs. This was tough. Compared to this, Stephanie would be a dream. Benoit was also finding his feet. They approached each other again and slap! Angel hit Benoit with a knife-edge, then flicked the pain out of her hand. Benoit's eyes widened and slap! He responded with a chop of his own. Slap! Chop from Angel. Slap! Chop from Benoit. Angel dug deep and slap! Another chop. Benoit glowered at her and lunged forward. She waited for the cop, but he grabbed at her pants instead, sending her for a snap suplex. The pain roared through her neck and head, but Benoit simply grabbed her again and threw her over in another belly to belly. Before she even had the chance to think, he grabbed her again and sent her over. Suddenly, he found himself facedown in another area of the ring. What the hell? She'd hurricanraned him! A hurricanrana from a damn snap suplex. Now he was pissed off!

He ran at her, but she gave him the slip and brought him down into the crippler crossface. Benoit cried out and threw her off violently. She grabbed his arm, dragged him to his feet and whipped him into the ropes, but on the return he flattened her with a huge clothesline. He picked her up by the hair and sent her for another German, before forming the bridge. He could hear the count in his mind. One…two… Just then, she hooked her legs around his waist and somehow flipped him over her head. She got to her feet, stumbled around to the corner and dragged herself to the top rope. She was going for another moonsault. Bam! She hit it, but before she could hook his leg, Benoit clambered on top of her, trapped her arm and locked on the crossface.

'No!' Angel thought as the familiar pain roared through her. 'I wanted to win today.'

She reached for the rope, first with her right hand and then each of her legs. But there was nothing there. She was going to have to tap. She reluctantly, desperately raised her hand when she was struck by an idea. Bam! Almost tearing herself in two, she stretched her legs over her own body and kicked Benoit in the head. Stunned, he relaxed the hold and she tried to struggle free, but he slammed his hands down on the back of her neck and locked on again. Angel cried out and bam! This kick was much harder and almost tore her abdominal muscles right off. Benoit let her go and she just wanted to die but, fiercely determined, she scrambled out of his grasp, slammed his arm into the leg scissors and locked the crossface on him. Benoit cried out and started crawling towards the ropes. Angel leaned back as far as she could, but she was losing him. She kept her left hand on his face, jarring her broken arm, while she slammed her right elbow into his spine. Then she locked on again and leaned back with all she had left. Benoit tried to crawl for the ropes again, but she was unmovable. Tap…tap…tap.

Angel heard the sound and shoved Benoit's head into the canvas. She leaped to her feet, suddenly filled with energy.

"You tapped!" she cried breathlessly, staring down at Benoit. "You tapped out! I beat you!"

Benoit pulled himself up into a crouch and glared up at her as he tried to catch his breath.

"That's right!" Angel gloated. "I beat you! Here is your winner, by submission, Angel Torres! I kicked your ass! How does it feel, huh, jackass? How does it feel knowing you got beaten by a…yeargh!" she cried as Benoit pounced at her. She quickly rolled from the ring and headed for the door. "Suck it, Benoit! Suck it!"

She spun around and almost smacked into Jericho, who was just coming through the door. She grinned at him crazily, grabbed his head and planted one right on his lips.

"Wow," he murmured as she released him. "You seem happy."

"I am," she grinned. "But ask Benoit about it. I'm sure he'll love to tell you. I gotta go find Trish." With that, she stepped past him, slapped him on the ass and walked away.

Jericho spun to stare at her, before turning back to Benoit. "What the hell was that about?"

Benoit was now on his feet, leaning over the ropes with a furious scowl. He didn't answer.

"What?" Jericho frowned. "Did she beat you or something?"

Benoit threw his hands onto his hips and glared at Jericho darkly.

"You're kidding me!" Jericho cried, unable to conceal his smirk. "How'd she do it? Moonsault?"

"No," Benoit snapped.

"DDT?"

"No."

"Senton bomb?"

"Crossface, okay?" Benoit seethed.

Jericho's mouth dropped open. "Crossface? No way," he chuckled.

Benoit started climbing out of the ring, his face contorted with fury.

"Relax, junior," Jericho said darkly. "We're here for our match tonight. Rogue's gone now, so let's get started."

Benoit gave a slow nod and climbed back into the ring. Jericho followed him, smirk back on his face, muttering under his breath, "Crossface? That's gotta hurt."

* * * *

"Trish! Trish!" Angel cried, bursting into the sauna, still fully clothed.

"What?" Trish asked, startled.

"Guess what?" Angel screamed. "I just had a mini match with Benoit and I won! I didn't even have to cheat!"

"Oh my God!" Trish cried, hugging her friend. "That's so great, Angel!"

"I know!" Angel grinned. "He had me in crossface, I countered, put him in crossface and he tapped! Isn't that amazing?"

"Yeah!" Trish agreed. "Definitely. Oh, and it's great news for your match tonight. If you can beat Benoit, you'll definitely whip that bitch Stephanie's ass."

"Yeah, no kidding," Angel gloated. "Damn, it's hot in here. Are you gonna get out soon to prepare for your match tonight?"

Trish had a six person tag match with Steve Blackman and Grandmaster Sexay against the RTC so, since Monday, Trish, who'd faced Stephanie herself several times and Angel, who was the number one authority on RTC hatred, had been perfect training partners.

"Oh Angel, don't be silly. This is preparation! I mean, since this hotel refuses to install a tanning bed."

"Okay, Trish," Angel laughed. "Well, I'm gonna get out of here before I pass out. I guess I'll see you tonight."

"Definitely!" Trish cried. "And congratulations again, Angel!"

"Thanks," Angel smiled, exiting the sauna.

* * * *

At the Arrowhead Pond, backstage was buzzing with talk of the quadriceps tear sustained by Triple H during the tag match on Raw. He'd undergone surgery on Tuesday and would be out for somewhere between three and six months, depending on who you asked. Angel was concerned. She hoped that wouldn't mean the end of her match against Stephanie. It'd be just like a McMahon to weasel out of a match just because her man was on the shelf. But when a messenger came around with final match lists, she breathed a little easier. Her match was still on, sandwiched between Trish's match and Kane versus Rhyno for the IC belt.

Angel sat on the bench in the locker room, focussing on her own match as Benoit and Jericho talked strategy for theirs. She was cool, she was calm, she was ready. Just then, there was something in her face and she looked up to find Jericho holding out a roll of black electrical tape.

"What's that?" she frowned.

"You're a part of this team, aren't you?" Jericho asked her.

Angel glanced around the room. Benoit wore a lot of black tape around his wrists and forearms, Jericho not so much, but it was the closest thing to a unifying symbol they had. Angel grinned and held out her arms. "You bet."

"Remember, baby," Jericho said as he carefully wound the tape around her wrists. "Just because your match isn't for a belt, doesn't mean it's not equally as important. We all had to start somewhere, and you're lucky, because you get to start by kicking Sluttanie's ass!"

"Who the hell are you kidding, Y2J?" Benoit snapped. "Her match is nothing, just like her. I don't even know why Vince made it. Two sluts pretending to wrestle. No one wants to see that."

"Um, I do," Jericho told him.

Benoit glared at him. "Well, you know what? I don't care what you want. What I care about is keeping our tag team championships. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah, junior. Relax."

"What you've gotta do," Angel piped up. "Is go for the ladders and ignore the tables and chairs, unless someone else gets them. But if they do, you take advantage of that. If someone sets up a table, you make sure you're the one putting people through it."

Benoit stopped pacing and glared at her. "What did you just say?"

"I was trying to tell you how to win a TLC match," Angel replied coolly.

"Did anyone ask?" Benoit demanded.

"No, but…"

"Then shut up!"

Angel leaned back on the bench and crossed her arms over her chest. That had been very strange. Not the outburst - that hadn't been unusual in the slightest. What confused her was Benoit's expression. She couldn't read it. She knew all of his expressions - pissed off, focused, thoughtful, cocky, smug, even ecstatic, but it wasn't any of them. And that worried her. For a man as methodical and predictable as Benoit, change was a very scary thing. Not that she was scared, per se. But she'd love to know what was with that intense expression. Maybe it was a new addition to Benoit's anger wear range. God knew he had enough of those. And the catalyst for the new version? Angel defeating him in practice and the TLC match tonight. That was probably it.

"I disagree," she said suddenly. "If Jeff goes up a ladder, so long as it's not in the ring, you let him go and just make sure you're not under him when he jumps. 'Cause nine times out of ten he's gonna bust his own ass."

Benoit scowled at her with that new expression of his. "I thought I told you to shut up."

"I'm just trying to help," Angel shrugged.

"Well, don't. We don't need your help. This isn't your match so keep your damn mouth closed. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," she sighed and actually followed his advice. At least for a while, anyway.

"You know what, Benoit?" she blurted. "I really think you're over-analyzing this. Tonight, in your match, there are a few certainties. The Dudleyz will try to put someone through a table, Edge and Christian will try for the conchairto and Jeff Hardy will bust his own ass jumping from a really high ladder. But what are the certainties for the two of you, huh? That's right. There aren't any. Because you haven't been here before. Now, to listen to the two of you talk, you'd think that was a liability, but it's not. Right now, in the other locker room, your six opponents are probably doing exactly what you're doing - talking strategy, discussing the strengths and weaknesses of each team. But when they get to you two, what can they say? Nothing. Because they don't know what you'll do in this kind of a match. They don't know if Jericho's gonna go for a missile dropkick off the top of a ladder or if you, Benoit, will try the flying headbutt. They can speculate, but they don't know. Because you've never been there before. So, do you think they're gonna waste their time worrying about the unknown? Of course not. They're gonna concentrate on what they do know - the other teams - and leave you alone. The two of you have the chance to dictate this match. I just don't understand why you're not willing to do it."

Benoit walked over and stood right in front of her. He stared at her for a long time, that new expression bearing down on her. Finally, he spoke.

"Do you know what I hate the most about broads? I hate the fact they won't stop talking. They talk and talk and talk, even if the conversation doesn't include them. They don't care. Even if you tell them to shut up. They don't care. No matter how many times you tell them they still don’t care, they just talk and talk and talk and talk until finally you snap and shut their damn mouths for them."

Keeping her eyes locked on his, Angel slowly rose to her feet. She stood eye level with Benoit, their faces almost touching. Her hands were on her hips, ready. His were hanging by his sides.

"You know," she said quietly, hoping she was intimidating him as much as he was her. "Just because I beat you this morning doesn’t mean you can act like a prize bitch."

"What?" Benoit screamed, swinging with his right. But Angel, who knew it was coming, ducked the punch and shoved him to the ground. He glowered up at her, but, just as he jumped to his feet, Jericho grabbed him and forced him into the corner of the room.

"Get out of my way, Jericho!" Benoit boomed. "Get the hell out my way!"

"Not a chance, junior," Jericho hissed. "I'm not gonna let you hit her."

"Yeah, well maybe I'll hit you instead, eh?"

Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Angel called, eyes still focused on what appeared to be the disintegration of her tag team.

"Angel Torres?" the messenger asked. "The match before yours has started."

"Thanks," she replied. "I'll be right there. Hey guys? It's time for my match."

Jericho released Benoit. "I'm going with you," he said to Angel.

"What?" Benoit screamed. "Actually, yeah, go. If you're at ringside, the bitch is disqualified."

"I know," Jericho replied quietly. "But I'm…I'm going with her."

"Go!" Benoit screamed, watching furiously as the two of them headed out the door. "Good luck with your match, bitch!"

Angel stopped and stuck her head back in the room.

"Benoit," she said sweetly. "You can suck my dick."

Then the door slammed shut and Benoit was alone.

* * * *

"You really have to stop pissing Benoit off, you know," Jericho told Angel as they walked together.

Angel shrugged. "I can take care of myself."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Jericho announced. "One of these days Benoit's gonna have a heart attack."

"I only hope I cause it," Angel grinned. "Besides, it's got me all psyched for my match. I might even make a speech."

"Well, you know how I love a good speech," Jericho told her, putting a friendly arm around her.

"Hi Chris. Hi Angel."

Angel looked up at the voice.

"Jeff," she said, surprised.

"Hey junior," Jericho greeted him.

"Listen, Angel," Jeff started. "I wanna talk to you. Do you have a minute?"

Angel frowned at how uncharacteristically civil his tone was. "Actually, no, I don't. I have a match."

"A match?" Jeff echoed.

"That's right. It seems I was tough enough after all for them to give me one."

Jeff sighed. He'd probably deserved that. "Well, I guess I'll see you later then."

"I guess," Angel replied bitchily. "Come on, Jerky."

She put her arm around Jericho and the two of them continued down the hall.

Jeff looked on, his frown degenerating into a scowl as he watched Angel and Jericho with their arms around each other. Rogue and Jerky? Those were pet names!

"Just friends, my ass," Jeff muttered, clenching his fists.

One thing was clear in his mind. Tonight, in the TLC match, Chris Jericho would not leave the building as the tag team champion. By the time Jeff was through with him, he'd be lucky to still be alive.

* * * *

Angel walked calmly down the ramp, the strains of 'Shooter' filling her ears. She climbed into the ring and took the microphone from Howard Finkel, then raised her hand to signal the fans, who were giving her quite a nice reception.

"Stephanie!" she started confidently. "I heard what happened to your husband and I think it's a real shame. No, guys, it really is," she told the crowd. "Because now, Stephanie, who's gonna save you from the ass-kicking you're about to get?" The fans roared their approval and started chanting 'slut' in reference to Stephanie.

"Hold on," Angel grinned. "I’ll get to that part." They roared again.

"Now, I know what you’re thinking," Angel went on. "You’re thinking, how can that girl fight? She’s got a broken arm! But don’t you worry about me, Steph. ‘Cause you see this shirt? This slogan isn’t just for show. Because the fact is, I am a ‘Shooter’ and I can beat you with one hand tied behind my back! But I’m also not going to play down your abilities," she rushed on. "I know all about your reputation, how you like to be known as a woman on top!"

The crowd cheered and started chanting "Slut" again.

"Don’t worry, Steph. I won’t take that away from you. In fact, tonight, just like every other night, you will go down! It’s just, it won’t be in the way you’re used to. Now, get your skinny ass out here so I can wipe the canvas with it! Come on! Get out here!"

Just then, some music played and someone appeared on stage. But it wasn’t Stephanie. It was William Regal.

"Hello to all my friends in Anaheim! Hello!"

"Piss off, Regal!" Angel shouted, getting another big pop.

"I beg your pardon!" regal snapped.

"I said, piss off!" Angel cried. "Where’s Stephanie? Send her out here so I can kick the crap out of her!"

"Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley is not here," Regal told her.

"Well, I can see that, genius. Send her on out."

"No, you don’t seem to understand. She’s not coming."

Angel broke into a scowl. "Well, isn’t that just typical? You know, I came here to fight. I’ve spent the whole week preparing for this match, only to have my opponent wuss out at the last minute?"

"Mrs. Helmsley is not a coward," Regal snapped. "She’s at her husband’s side."

"Yeah, that’d be right," Angel muttered.

"And besides," Regal went on. "You don’t need to worry about wasted time. You still have a match."

"Oh, I do? Who’s my opponent? Chyna?"

"No," Regal smirked. "Me."

"What?" Angel cried as the crowd booed.

"What’s the matter, Miss Torres?" Regal asked. "You’re not afraid, are you?"

Angel set her jaw. "Not at all. Just because I’ve been screwed over, why should I be afraid? Step down to the ring, Regal. And I will personally give you a screwing you’ll never forget!"

Regal glowered at her and dropped his microphone, then marched down to the ring. Angel waited for him, sizing him up as he walked.

‘Change in plans, girl,’ she thought. ‘Your opponent is now male, about 240 pounds. And remember, he’s a southpaw, so watch the left."

Angel held eye contact and started circling.

"Come on, Regal," she beckoned. "Come get me."

They locked up and Regal raised a knee to her abdomen, but she slipped back, grabbed his leg and dumped him on his back. Then she picked up his other leg and started to turn him over into the Walls of Jericho, but Regal crawled forward and found the ropes.

Angel scowled and released him, then formed the waistlock. She gritted her teeth, leaned back and…bam! One German. She held the waistlock in, dragged Regal to his feet and bam! German number two. Somehow she still held the waistlock and clambered up again. Regal was a heavy piece of shit, but she was going to do this. And just then, Regal floored her with a single elbow. He picked her up and whipped her into the ropes, then dropped her again with a clothesline. He grinned down at her fallen body, then stopped to wave to the crowd. Just then, Angel leaped onto his back, hooked her legs around his waist and locked in her sleeper, trapping Regal’s waving arm. Regal was startled and tried to flip her over his head, but she held on tightly, squeezing as hard as she could. Regal’s strength began to fade and he sank to one knee.

"How about it, Regal? Have you had enough?"

Regal struggled to shake his head, so Angel squeezed even harder and Regal dropped to his other knee. The ref again asked him if he gave up, but this time there was no response. The ref raised Regal’s free arm, then dropped it. It slumped to Regal’s side. The ref tried again. Same result. He tried one last time, and this time Regal raised his hand strongly. Angel didn’t hesitate. She released the sleeper, just as she used her legs to flip Regal backwards, dropping him on his neck and pinning his shoulders. The ref was there to count it. One…two…but Regal kicked out.

Angel leaped to her feet. "That was three!" she cried.

"Two!" the ref shot back. "It was two!"

"Bullshit," Angel muttered, turning back around, right into a belly to belly suplex. Regal picked her up and dropped her again in a sidewalk slam. He linked her legs together, trapped her arm and turned her over into the Regal stretch. Angel cried out as her abdomen burned. She dragged herself and dragged herself and found the rope.

"One…two…three…four…."

Regal released her, only to grab her leg, drag her from the ropes and link her legs again. But, just as he went to completely lock on, Angel swung her right arm and slammed it into his eye, then scrambled over him, found the leg scissors and applied the crossface.

Regal was stunned. He was stuck in the Crippler Crossface, but it wasn’t Benoit; it was a girl. He tried to throw her off, but she refused to let go. Next he tried to scramble for the ropes, but she just leaned back even further, increasing the pressure on his face, his neck and his back. He had no choice. He had to tap. He raised his hand and…

Bam! Angel didn’t see the chair, but she sure felt it as it crashed across her back. She screamed and let Regal go. Someone was ambushing her. She had to get out. She had to escape. Jericho and Benoit couldn’t help her. She had to help herself.

Angel tired to find her feet as crash…crash…two chairs slammed into the canvas and finally…crash…they cracked across her skull and everything went black.

Edge and Christian kept pounding Angel with the chairs as Regal started waving to the crowd. Just then, there was a cheer and Chris Jericho dove into the ring. He tore the chair away from Christian and started punching him as the younger man raced to escape. Edge swung his chair, but Jericho spun around just in time and slammed it out of his hands. Edge’s eyes widened and he evacuated the ring, only to be met on the ramp by Benoit, who had just chased Christian away. Benoit sent Edge for a snap suplex, then ran to the ring as his longhaired foe ran away. Regal quickly evacuated as Benoit and Jericho stood imposingly in the ring, daring any of the three of them to return. Then Jericho dropped to his hands and knees next to Angel.

"Rogue, can you hear me?"

She groaned, but didn’t open her eyes.

"Rogue," he said again, gently tapping her face.

She drew her legs up to her chest as she started crying quietly.

Jericho stared up at Benoit. "Call out the EMTs. We need to get her out of here."

Benoit nodded solemnly, turned to the stage and swung his arm, beckoning. In a moment, a group of EMTs came racing down the ramp.

"It hurts," Angel murmured suddenly. "It hurts."

"What hurts, baby?" Jericho asked as the EMTs climbed into the ring and readied the stretcher.

"My head. It hurts. My head."

"How about your neck?" the lead EMT asked.

"No. My head. My head."

"Okay. We’ll just load you onto a stretcher and take you to hospital to get that head checked out."

"No!" Angel cried. "Jericho. Where’s Jericho?"

"I’m right here, baby." He gripped her hand tightly and she wiggled her fingers against his grasp.

"I wanna stay," she told him. "Make them let me stay. I don’t wanna go."

"Rogue. They’re gonna take you to hospital and make you better, just like in Chicago."

"No!" Angel cried again, tears all over her face. "Let me stay! Please, let me stay!"

"Rogue," Jericho sighed as the EMTs strapped her onto the stretcher.

"Please," she said again. "I wanna stay with you."

Jericho swallowed. "Unstrap her. She’s staying."

"She needs to go to hospital," an EMT argued.

"She’s tough," Jericho told them. "If she can talk, she’ll be fine. Unstrap her."

The EMTs started to do as he said, but still argued their point.

"So I’ll call out the trainer," Jericho told them. "She's staying with me."

Finally, Angel was unstrapped. Jericho crouched over her.

"Okay, baby. You have to help out here. Loop your arms around my neck."

Eyes still closed, Angel reached her arms out and nearly poked him in the eye. Jericho scooped her up gently, then nodded over at Benoit, who separated the ropes so they could exit the ring more easily.

The fans applauded politely as they made their way backstage. Jericho carried Angel to the catering area, where he set her down gently on a couch. He perched himself on the edge, next to her feet, then peered up at Benoit. "Go find Trish Stratus or Lita."

Benoit nodded and set off.

Angel still didn’t open her eyes, but she slid her hand down until she gripped Jericho’s knee. "Y2J? Is that you?"

"Yeah, baby. I’m still here."

"Thank you," she smiled.

"You’re welcome, baby."

"Jericho?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"You’re my best friend. I want you to know that."

Jericho grinned down at her and started to respond, when someone burst in.

"Well, Jericho. You’ve really messed up this time. You and Benoit’s titles? They’re gone. Your match tonight? Gone."

"What?" Jericho screamed, glaring up at Vince.

"You were warned what would happen if you got involved in that match…"

"Edge and Christian were kicking her ass!" Jericho protested.

"Still, you knew the rules. In the interest of fairness, I have to relieve you of your title."

"No, you can’t!" Angel cried out. She was sitting bolt upright and her eyes were open.

"I told you the rules before you went out there," Vince accused. "No run ins."

"It wasn’t a run in," Angel protested. "The match was over."

"Excuse me?" Vince frowned.

Jericho broke into a grin. "That’s right. The jackasses hit her, the ref called for the bell, then I ran in. It’s all on tape if you need to see."

Vince scowled and turned to the nearest nobody.

"Get me a VCR and a tape of tonight’s matches," he ordered. "Go!"

The nobody ran off, leaving Angel and Jericho to wait for the evidence.

* * * *

Conchairto, ringbell, Jericho. Conchairto, ringbell, Jericho. Sure enough, it was all there.

Vince glared at Jericho. "So you got lucky this time. I'd watch myself, if I were you. I am a billionaire and I won't be made to look like a fool. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Jericho nodded as Vince walked away. "Well, Rogue. Looks like you just saved my ass yet again."

Angel grinned at him. "I guess I'm getting good at returning favors, huh? But now we have to get you ready for your match." She pulled herself up to her feet, but slumped back down again.

"Careful," Jericho warned, catching her and then lowering her gently to the couch.

"I'm okay," she protested, using his body as support as she tried to stand again.

"Oh my God, Ange. Are you okay?"

"Angel, I was on my way out when I heard what happened to you, so I just had to come back."

Angel fell back onto the couch next to Jericho as she peered warily at the two women.

"I'm fine," she told them, knowing they wouldn't believe her.

Benoit stared expressionlessly at Jericho as the blonde and the redhead kept fussing over the girl.

"It's time for our match."

Jericho nodded and started to extract himself from Angel's grasp. "I'll see you later, baby."

"No!" Angel cried, refusing to let go. "You can't leave."

"I have to, baby," Jericho told her. "It's time for me and Benoit to go retain our titles."

"Then I have to come too. I'm the valet." She clambered up, using Jericho for support as she swayed on her feet.

"Sit down!" Benoit boomed.

Angel turned to stare at him, glassy eyes taking some time to focus.

"I said, sit down!"

Angel just blinked. "I have to be your valet. Every match, every time. Edge and Christian. They'll be out there. I'll stop them. I'll…"

"Shut up!" Benoit screamed and she burst into tears. "You're not going anywhere," he went on, unaffected by her crying even as Jericho put a comforting and steadying arm around her. "You're not helping anyone. Even if these other two broads have to both hold you back, you're staying right here."

Angel stared at him furiously. She wanted to think of a smart comeback, any kind of reply that would floor the son of a bitch, but she just couldn't. Her head was throbbing as Benoit's voice spun through it, amplified from what it should be, echoing through her mind as a siren beat a background in her ears. Tears trickled down her face as she tightly gripped Jericho's arm and glared at Benoit.

"I hate you," she said at last, before completely breaking down. "I hate you."

She sobbed into Jericho's shirt as Lita and Trish stepped up beside her and pulled her away, before sitting her on the couch.

"Shh, Ange," Lita soothed. "You'll be okay. Just try to forget about your head."

"Yeah," Trish agreed, gently gripping Angel's hand. "All three of us can watch the match together. Chris and Chris will win for sure."

"Excuse me?" Lita frowned.

Just then, Angel rubbed her eyes and looked around, absolutely bewildered. "Where's Jericho?"

"Honey, he had to get to his match," Lita told her gently.

Angel looked puzzled, but then it hit her. "TLC match! Come on, Lita! That's our match too! We have to go help our teams. Come on!"

"Angel," Lita replied, pulling her back down again. "There's no way in hell I'm going out there, and you shouldn't want to either."

"But you've been out to TLC before," Angel argued. "You have! Twice!"

"I know," Lita admitted. "And both times I got my butt kicked. I've learned my lesson, believe me. You couldn't pay me enough to get me out there tonight."

Angel blinked. "Well, you stay then. I'm going."

"Angel, come on," Lita coaxed her. "You should be sitting down. You got hit in the head again. You're in no condition to head out there at all."

"I don't care. Jericho's my friend. I'm gonna help him."

Lita tried to stop her struggles and stared desperately at Trish.

"Chris and Lita are right, Angel," Trish told her. "And Chris is your boss. If he sees you out there he's gonna get so mad after he told you to stay here. And then, while he's getting mad at you, the other teams might attack Chris Jericho and then they'll lose the titles. You don't want that, do you?"

Angel nodded sadly. Damn Benoit. It always came down to him in the end. But Trish was right. Angel couldn't put Jericho's title in jeopardy by running out there. Because Benoit would try and put her in her place. And there would be three other teams out there. The few seconds Benoit took to scream at Angel, which he would do, could mean the difference between winning and losing. Angel couldn't do it. Jericho might never forgive her. He was her friend and she couldn't chance it. Titles weren't worth more than that. Nothing was.

* * * *

Angel watched the match, chewing her fingernails right down. Jeff was really wailing on Jericho and had been since the start of the match. What was his damn problem? There were five guys other than Jericho to beat up, especially when Benoit had Jeff's brother on a table and was going up top for the headbutt.

"Uh oh," Angel murmured, swallowing hard as her head continued to blaze Beethoven's Ninth.

"What, Ange?" Lita whispered.

"He didn't signal. Please, let it not be true this time. Let it not be true."

Crash! At the last second, Matt had rolled out of the way. Benoit's head and body smashed through the table and he was completely out cold.

"Oh my God!" Trish shrieked. "Poor Chris!"

'Poor Chris is right,' Angel thought. 'Poor Chris Jericho.'

Benoit had just sacrificed himself on the stupid damn headbutt. Now, it seemed, as EMTs raced down the ramp and SmackDown went to commercial, Jericho was in it alone. It was a handicap match and he had six opponents. Six opponents and no chance in hell. Angel jumped to her feet. The odds were about to become just a bit more even.

"Angel, what are you doing?" Lita cried as Angel pushed off the couch and started running.

"I'm going to help my best friend!" Angel shouted back, hoping her words had come out in the right order, although she had a sinking suspicion they hadn't. "It's no DQ. He needs me."

"Come back, Angel!" Lita cried out. "You can't go out there. It's suicide. Didn't you see what just happened to Benoit? That could be you."

Angel stopped and turned back around. "Lita, don't worry about me. I am strong, I'm invincible. I am woman!" And with that proclamation, she ran off again.

As she reached the backstage area, a gurney was wheeled past. On it was Benoit, still unconscious. Angel peered at him curiously, then kept running. At least he couldn't give her shit about what she was about to do, because he sure wouldn't like it.

Her abs still burned, her arm still ached and her head still drummed, but she didn't care. She had a match to win. So she ran towards the ring, her mind on the task ahead.

When she could see the ring, she almost smiled. Although Edge was nearly to the top of one of two side by side ladders, Jericho was in hot pursuit. Angel dove straight into the ring and grabbed both ladders to steady them as Jericho caught up with Edge and, on top of the ladders, put him in the Walls of Jericho.

"Come on, Jerky!" Angel cried. "Forget the submission. Grab the belts!"

Bam! Just then, someone punched Angel into the ladder and she fell to the mat. Christian. He climbed quickly, reached the top and pushed Jericho off. Angel used the nearest ladder to pick herself up. Edge and Christian. One on each ladder. She saw both Dudley Boyz arrive at the ladder next to hers and start to push it over, so she decided to follow their lead.

"Bye-bye, Edge!" she cried, shoving as hard as she could.

It wasn't easy, but finally the ladder toppled over, taking Edge with it. Angel nodded to herself, but now she had the Dudleyz to contend with. And her cousin's boyfriend, it seemed. Matt was now in the ring.

Angel ignored all three, grabbed the ladder nearest to her - the one the Dudleyz had knocked over, steadied it and started to climb. All she had to do was take down the belts, then find Jericho and drop them into his hands. It was no DQ, so that would win him the match. So she climbed.

Suddenly, someone grabbed the waistband of her pants and yanked her off the ladder. Her back slammed into the canvas and she immediately curled up into the fetal position. Okay. This hurt. Above her, Buh Buh Ray Dudley had started his climb, as had Matt on the other ladder. D-Von quickly jumped onto the other side of Matt's ladder as Jeff did the same to Buh Buh's. Bam! D-Von dove off the ladder, taking Matt with him in an armdrag. Buh Buh and Jeff were still going. They grappled on top of the ladder until Buh Buh formed the headlock and suplexed Jeff over his head.

"Argh!" Angel screamed as four hundred and fifty pounds and associated momentum of the heavier Dudley and lighter Hardy slammed down on top of her. Just then, Buh Buh started to roll, taking Jeff and Angel with him until they all landed in a tangled pile on the outside of the ring.

Jeff groaned and tried to open his eyes as the crowd roared and Benoit came stumbling down the ramp, holding his injured ribs. But all Jeff could see was the girl lying next to him.

"Angel?" he murmured, reaching out an arm. "Angel?"

She heard his voice and started crawling towards it, until they found each other and he locked her in his arms. He was hurting - that suplex fifteen feet off the top of the ladder had nearly killed him, but it didn't matter anymore. None of it mattered. He had Angel. He held her tightly, pressing her body against his, and let his eyes drift shut.

Angel started to stir in Jeff's arms. Where the hell was she? Had she been sleeping? Had she been sleeping with someone? 'Quite likely,' she thought with a start, feeling someone's arms around her. Wait. This didn’t feel like a bed. And what the hell was that noise? Suddenly, she remembered. TLC match. She was Jericho's partner now. Was it over, or could she still win it? She pulled herself from Jeff's grasp, not even registering he was there, and dove onto the ring apron. Then, summoning all her strength, she dragged herself into the ring.

Buh Buh Ray Dudley was holding Edge's legs as D-Von went up top, ready for the Wassup headbutt. The match wasn't over. And, better still, there was a ladder, right near Angel. If she climbed it, no one would even notice. So she crawled to the ladder, grabbed it in both hands and started hoisting herself up.

"D-Von!" screamed Buh Buh as Angel continued to climb. "Get the table!"

Angel had reached the top. To her right were the belts. They seemed far away, but if she jumped, she might just be able to reach. Or she could climb down, move the ladder and try again. The choice was hers.

Suddenly, the ladder was moving as Buh Buh dropped it down onto the top turnbuckle. Angel leaped just before it hit and she kept falling and falling and thud! She was outside the ring again and someone was underneath her. But she couldn't even move away - the pain and exhaustion were just too much. So she lay there, hoping with all her might that whoever had broken her fall wouldn't suddenly start beating the crap out of her, because she wasn't sure she'd be able to fight back.

"Angel," Jeff whispered, curling his arms around her again as she rolled to her side. She smelled so good…felt so good. "I'll never let you go, Angel. Never let you go."

He held her tight, listening to her breathing, listening to the beating of her heart. And, despite his pain, he smiled.

"Jeff! Come on, Jeff. Get up."

Jeff's eyes flickered open. Matt was standing over him, a sweaty, pained mess. Jeff stared up at him contentedly.

"Look, Matt," he said dopily. "I've got Angel."

"That's great, man," Matt nodded. "But we gotta win this match. Set her down and let's get this done… She is okay, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Jeff nodded. "She's sleeping."

"Okay," Matt mused, knowing for sure now that Jeff wasn't in great shape. "Well, you let her sleep and let's get our belts back."

"Alright," Jeff replied, letting Matt help him up. "What first? Ladders?"

"No," Matt replied seriously. "Dudleyz."

With that they reached into the ring, grabbed Buh Buh by the legs and dragged him down. They started punching him, but he was fighting back, so Matt removed the cover from the announce desk, grabbed a TV monitor and slammed it into Buh Buh's head. Jeff went to get a ladder - a 20 foot painter's ladder as Matt swept the announce desk clean.

"Get out of the way!" he screamed to Tazz and Michael Cole, who quickly evacuated the area.

Matt and Jeff set up the ladder and Matt then grabbed a chair, slamming it into Buh Buh's head and sending him back onto the announce desk. Matt held him down and landed a few punches to keep him there as Jeff set up another smaller ladder behind the first one and then started to climb. Just then, Chris Jericho arrived and decked Matt, but Jeff kept on climbing. He had to get rid of Buh Buh. He had to win the titles. Then he'd have the belt. Then he'd have the girl. He reached the top of the small ladder, pushed down on the big one and leapfrogged it. He sailed through the air and his legs crashed down on Buh Buh with sickening force. The announce table was broken. Buh Buh was broken. Jeff was broken. And, around the corner, Angel began to pick herself up. She was so tired. She was so sore, but while she could still move, she could still win the titles. Would win the titles. She couldn't even stand, but she could crawl. She could drag herself, so that's what she did. She found the ring, found the ropes and pulled herself up. She crawled across the canvas as Matt sent D-Von Dudley off the ladder with the Twist of Fate. Matt set the ladder back up just as Angel reached it and they both started climbing, step by step, inch by inch, up…up…up.

Jericho jumped into the ring, chair in hand.

"Come on, Rogue!" he cried. "Go get them!"

Angel looked over, but all she saw was Matt. She scrambled up the last couple of steps, but instead of going for the titles, she went for Matt. If she could drop him, she was home free. She reached out and hit him with a weak right, then another.

"Angel!" Matt cried. "Get the hell out of here!"

"Never!" she breathed, leaning over with both arms and forming a headlock. She had him! She had him! Still holding on, she twisted her body around. Just like Regal, Matt Hardy was going down. On the canvas, Jericho swung his chair, but at that moment, Matt kicked out. The chair slammed into Jericho's face, forcing him into the ropes. He bounced back up - right into the ladder.

"Shit!" Angel screamed, keeping hold of Matt as they both flew through the air. They bounced off the ropes and then hit the ground with a crash.

"Are you okay? Are you okay?"

Matt nodded and Angel wiggled her fingers. She wasn't okay. Matt, that big piece of lard, was lying right on top of her, crushing her ribs, and she couldn't get out. She had nothing left, so she'd just have to wait until Matt decided it was time to move.

Up in the ring, Jericho set the ladder back up and began to climb. He got to the top and reached out, not seeing Edge climbing the other ladder. Jericho's first grab didn't come close, so he regained his balance and tried again.

"Hey, Y tool J!"

Jericho spun around, right into a spear, which knocked both him and Edge to the canvas.

There were people lying all over the ring. In the ring, on the outside, on what was left of the announce desk. And just then, arguably the most injured of them all, Chris Benoit, crawled into the ring. He set up a ladder under the belts and slowly but surely began to climb. He got to the top and reached, but missed. Taking a deep breath, he reached out again and this time touched a belt. He undid it and ding…ding…ding. He was still the tag team champion. He'd done it. But the effort had been so much he slipped and fell to the canvas, clutching his ribs and crying out in pain.

"You did it, man," called a voice. "We're still the champs."

Benoit raised his head. Jericho. 'Shooter' was playing; the crowd was roaring.

"Benoit! Benoit! Benoit!" they chanted.

He'd never heard anything like it. Finally, they were recognizing him - everything he'd done, everything he'd sacrificed. They were chanting his name.

"Jericho," he said gruffly. "Let's get back up that ladder."

And so, title belts in hand, they climbed. The crowd roared even louder as Benoit and Jericho held up the belts, acknowledging their cheers.

Finally, when they'd had enough, they climbed down again.

"You okay, man?" Jericho asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"My ribs are busted," Benoit replied matter-of-factly.

"So's my arm," Jericho told him. "Come on. Let's go see the trainer, get them looked at."

"No," Benoit said forcefully. "I'll sleep it off."

Jericho sighed. Benoit and his damn trainer phobia. "Well, I'm going."

"Okay," Benoit said simply and they exited the ring.

As Benoit's feet hit the ground, he looked down and spotted little Matt Hardy. That kid had battled hard, but he needed to learn not to try and come between Benoit and a title belt. Benoit shook his head slowly and started walking again, when something caught his eye. A set of legs, encased in leather, were protruding from under Matt's body. Benoit knew those leather pants.

"Bitch!" he screamed, shoving Matt away. Matt just groaned and rolled over.

Benoit stared down at the girl. He'd seen her in the ring, climbing the ladder before Buh Buh Ray knocked it over and then again, trying to bulldog Matt Hardy from twenty feet in the air, but he'd been so focused on the belts he'd forgotten all about her.

"Why can't you ever do what I say?" he boomed, scooping her up and putting her over his shoulder.

She cried out and he almost did too. He could hardly walk without her, but now he had to carry her, stupid little bitch.

"Shut up!" he screamed. "Just shut up!"

Why did she always do it? Why did she interfere? He didn't need her help. Why couldn't she understand that? Big deal if she could bulldog Matt Hardy off a ladder and survive. Had Benoit asked her to? No! Big deal if she could hurricanrana William Regal fifteen feet off a steel cage. Had anyone asked? No! Big deal if she challenged people like Albert and Buh Buh Ray Dudley, people twice her size. Benoit did that almost every day. Big deal if she could do the crossface and she'd beaten him with it. He'd beaten her millions of times. She was just lucky. She was out of her damn mind. Why couldn't she just stick to fighting women, like Stephanie? She'd owned Stephanie, just like Benoit had known she would. He'd trained her to do just that. Fighting men was never part of the plan, but the crazy bitch thought she could do it. One of these days she'd get herself killed and no amount of revenge would reverse that. She'd be dead. Stupid damn bitch.

"Let me go!" she was shouting. "Let me go!"

They were in the hall now, making slow but steady progress.

"Shut up!" Benoit snapped, refusing to release her.

"I mean it, asshole. Let me down!"

"Shut up!"

"I've got your tights, jackass," she protested. "If you don't put me down right now, I'll pull 'em down. That's right. I'll pants you right here, where anyone can see."

Suddenly, Benoit let out a roar, flipped her over and slammed her back into the wall. Angel gulped as he stared at her with the same weird expression as before. Jericho. Where was Jericho?

"I told you to shut up!" Benoit boomed, right in her face. "And when I tell you to shut up, you shut up!"

Then he violently grabbed her by the head and kissed her. His kiss was fierce and possessive and she was pinned against the wall. She couldn't move.

'This is not good,' Angel thought, squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see Benoit up so close. A rock of pure disgust and repulsion had formed in her stomach and was growing every second. Chris Benoit was kissing her. He was kissing her. The rock grew and grew and grew. Benoit's lips were on hers, his tongue was in her mouth, he was hot, he was sweaty, he was all over her and she couldn't do anything about it. The rock exploded and flooded through her body, igniting her blood vessels like a spark to gasoline. And suddenly she realized it wasn't disgust and repulsion at all. It was desire. He was hot, he was sweaty, he was all over her and she wanted him bad.

They kissed wildly, urgently, hands grabbing, touching, legs rubbing, tongues searching.

Just then, Benoit pulled away abruptly and spun his head around, his expression contorting into a scowl.

"Turn that damn camera off. You get that camera the hell away now!"

But although the cameraman backed away, the little red light kept on blinking. Benoit shoved Angel away and turned furiously.

"I told you to turn that goddamn camera off, you son of a bitch. Do you have any idea who I am? I could destroy you! Destroy you! Get your ass back here!"

He caught up with the cameraman and tore the camera away, then opened it and ripped out the tape. He began strewing it around the hallway as the cameraman protested.

"Shut up!" Benoit screamed. Finally, he lifted the camera above his head and slammed it down on the ground.

"Hey!" cried the cameraman. "That's not mine. It belongs to the…"

Benoit reached out and grabbed him by the shirt, then got right in his face. "Next time I tell you to turn it off, you damn well turn it off. Do you hear me? Do you hear me?"

"Yes!" the cameraman gasped.

"Good," Benoit snapped, releasing him.

He spun around.

"Shit," he swore.

The girl was gone.

* * * *

Benoit pushed open the door of the locker room. The girl wasn't there, just as she hadn't been there before he'd gone to take a shower. All her stuff was gone, too. Still, he had a pretty fair idea where she'd be. He walked painfully up the hallway and burst into the trainer's room. Jericho was sitting on the examination bench as he had his arm bandaged.

"Hey," Benoit greeted him.

"Hey Benoit. What's happening?"

"I'm leaving. She's run off again. Have you seen her?"

"No, man. Have you tried Trish or Lita?"

Benoit shook his head. "Trish already left and Lita's gone to the hospital with the Hardyz."

Jericho shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. But don't worry, I'm sure she'll show up."

"Yeah," Benoit sighed. "You're probably right. I guess I'll see you later."

"You bet," Jericho replied, watching as Benoit left the room. "Okay, baby. He's gone. You can come out now."

Angel clambered out from under the bench.

"Thanks," she said, smiling meekly at Jericho.

"No problem," Jericho replied. "So, what did he do this time?"

Angel tried to shrug indifferently. "You know Benoit."

"He was giving you shit about interfering again?" Jericho guessed.

"Yeah, that was it," Angel replied quickly. "And I'm just…I'm sick of him. Do you think I can hang out with you for awhile? We could watch MTV…or ESPN…or Nickelodeon. I don't care."

Jericho grinned. "Sure, Rogue. You can come watch TV with me."

"All done here," the trainer told him.

"You, sir," Jericho replied. "Are a miracle worker. Okay, Rogue. You ready to go?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Are you okay to drive?"

"Should be."

Angel nodded again. That would give her what she needed more than anything right now. Time to think.

* * * *

Angel sat on Jericho's bed, her body pressed forward against her thighs. She'd come to a few conclusions. She and Benoit had exchanged what was probably the most incredible kiss of Angel's life. Fact. But there had to be a reason why. They hated each other, no doubt about it, and yet they'd kissed. And not just kissed. KISSED. Why? Why? Why? They were both concussed. They hadn't been thinking straight. Angel still couldn't, actually. Benoit had been excited because he'd beaten all the odds to win, and he'd gotten huge pops in the process. He just wasn't used to that. And it had been so long since Angel had been kissed like that, when it happened she'd just flipped. She'd lost control and gone with it. Besides, he'd had her pinned. She couldn’t have gotten away, even if she'd wanted to. Could she?

She sighed deeply. Those were all plausible reasons, all of them. But they were also stupid. Damn stupid. She glared at the TV, watching the cars on the racetrack go round and round and round. Finally, she turned to Jericho, suddenly realizing he was very quiet.

"If this is boring you, we can watch something else."

But there was no response. Jericho was lying back, fast asleep. Angel sighed, then got to her feet. She undid Jericho's shoes and removed them, then unhooked the blankets from under his body and covered him with them. Finally, she stared at him, wondering what to do next.

She could just climb in bed with Jericho and stay here for the night. He probably wouldn't mind. But she knew she'd just end up lying here and staring at the TV. There'd be no sleep for her tonight. And that just wasn't fair on Jericho. So she stepped up by his side.

"Night, Jerky," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek. Then she picked up her bag, switched off the TV, switched off the lamp and left his hotel room.

It was time to face the music. She had a keycard of her own so hopefully Benoit, like Jericho, would already be asleep. And if he wasn't? Well, she'd cross that bridge when and if she came to it.

"Please be asleep, please be asleep, please be asleep," she chanted as she unlocked the door. But when she stepped inside, he was standing there, staring back at her. Her breath caught in her throat and she froze.

"Where were you?" he asked. His voice, like his face, was expressionless.

"Does it matter?"

"No."

"Good."

All she had to do was walk calmly past into her room. Then she could close the door, go to sleep and forget this whole mess ever happened. So she started to walk.

Suddenly, he caught her arm.

"Don't," she snapped, wrenching it away furiously. "Don't you ever…and I mean ever…touch me again, do you hear me?"

He just stared at her expressionlessly.

Finally, she scrunched her face up in frustration.

"God, I can't handle this!" she cried, storming towards her room. She stopped in the doorway and turned around. "You're the one who did it and I'm the one who feels like shit. How is that fair?"

And then she stepped into her room and slammed the door. She threw her bag across the room and leaped onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow. Suddenly, she heard the door opening and rolled over defensively.

"Get out! Get the hell out of my room!"

But he just stood there, staring at her.

"I mean it, if you don't get out of here right now I'm gonna pick up this phone, call the cops and tell them you're trying to rape me. Is that what you want?"

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Do you think we can discuss this like adults?"

"No. No, I really don't."

Benoit just stared at her. "I want to talk."

"Well, I don't. I'm not going to talk to you."

"Why?" Benoit demanded.

"Why?" Angel repeated incredulously. "Why? How can you even ask that question? I hate you! You're supposed to hate me! Why couldn't you just have left it at that, huh?"

Benoit blinked and started to take another step.

"Stay there! I don't want you near me."

"Why?" Benoit asked again.

"Stop asking me that!" She took a deep breath. "Remember when you told me what you wanted most from me? How you wanted me to fear you?"

Benoit nodded solemnly.

"Well, look at me, Benoit. I'm scared to death. And what frightens me is you, not leaving this room. You, walking towards me like you're doing right now, and not stopping. I am terrified out of my mind of that. But what scares me isn't what you might do to me, like you always wanted; it's what I might do to you. So, get the hell out of here, because I am not going to talk to you. Do you hear me? I'm not."

Benoit stared at her for a few more moments, then finally turned around, exited the room and shut the door.

Angel threw herself onto her stomach.

"Shit!" she cried. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Why had he kissed her? Why? But, more importantly, why had she kissed him back? She didn't want him. She didn't even like him. Why had she done it?

* * * *

There was a knock at the door.

"Go to hell!" Angel cried, burying her head under her pillow.

But the door opened, just as she'd known it would. She kept her head buried, waiting for him to speak.

"When you wake up tomorrow," he started. "I won't be here. Next week's shows are in Alberta, so I've decided to go home early and commute."

Angel removed her pillow and nodded slowly.

"That's probably a good idea," she said quietly, noticing he was standing in the doorway, no closer.

"You'll train with Jericho this week, until I get back," Benoit went on. "Same time as normal. If he's late, start without him."

Angel nodded again.

"You sleep here tonight," Benoit told her. "Tomorrow you'll have a single room next to Jericho. You'll also sit by him when you travel. I suggest you eat with him and drive with him to the arenas, but if you'd rather spend time with Trish, that's okay too. If you need anything, or if you want to spend time with other people, you ask Jericho or you wait and ask me. I don't think I need to tell you not to be stupid about that sort of thing. I think you've learned your lesson. You'll be paid for Heat, but I don't want a match. Raw and SmackDown will be as normal. Is all this clear?"

"Yes."

"Good." He nodded at her. "Oh, and princess? If you're looking for an apology, you're not going to get one. I've never been sorry for anything I've done in my life and I'm not going to start now."

Angel just nodded dumbly as he left her alone again. He was leaving. He was going home. She'd only see him at Raw and SmackDown. The rest of the time, she was free. So why didn't she feel any better?