FLORAL TRIBUTES

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, MAY 27TH, 2001

"Thank you," Angel said amicably, taking the flowers from the delivery guy.

She shut the door, tossed the flowers carelessly over her shoulder, then turned around. Flowers. The room was full of them. All different kinds, too, although for the last twenty-four hours or so they'd just been long-stemmed roses. She's long ago run out of vases and, while the maids had tried to clear things up a bit, Angel's room still looked like a tornado had gone through a florist's shop. And she had absolutely no idea who was sending them, but it was starting to get creepy. Sometimes there was a card, but there was never a name, other than hers. She stepped over to examine the latest offering - a single red rose. Maybe he was running out of money. There was a card attached so she opened it up to read the message.

'Thinking of you.'

"Well, that's nice of you," she murmured. "But you might want to tone it down a bit 'cause it's getting to the stalker stage."

Oh well, it could have been worse. It could have said, 'I'm watching you.'

Too many damn flowers. Angel wasn't even a flower person. She could tell a rose from a chrysanthemum from an orchid but that was about it. But someone had obviously decided it was time for her to get botanical.

They'd started coming on Friday morning. First had been a huge bunch, a mixture of sizes, types and colors. The card had read 'congratulations on your first match'.

For a while, Angel had wondered whether they were from Edge and Christian, playing a prank because they'd kicked her ass in that match. But the flowers kept on coming, the messages were always sweet and usually had nothing to do with wrestling. The cards that touched…and spooked…her the most talked about her eyes, how they changed color sometimes. But of course señor stalker had put it much nicer than that. So nice that there was something familiar about it, making her think it wasn't just some obsessed fan. It was someone she knew.

Maybe it was Benoit. Hadn't he asked her once what color her eyes were and she'd answered that they changed with her moods? But all the messages were far too poetic to ever come from Benoit's mind. Not a single one had said 'shut up, bitch' or 'do you hear me?' And how could Benoit be sending her flowers when he was at home in Edmonton screwing his wife?

Angel sighed. Benoit. It was strange with him not around. Her single room was very quiet without the constant humming of his tapes. Training with Jericho was far more relaxed, but no less useful than training with Benoit. Mostly they worked on spinning heel kicks because those suckers were hard. At meal times she could eat what she wanted, but she found she still ate healthily and usually just ordered room service. In fact, unless she was going to the gym, she didn't venture out at all. She just didn't feel like dealing with people, even her friends. She was so scared that someone would be able to tell just from her face what had happened, and she didn't trust her response if they asked, mostly because she just wanted to forget about it. But she couldn't do that until she figured out how she really felt about it.

Her thoughts were muddled. She was still feeling the effects of her concussion. She'd already resolved herself not to cry. There were just too many damn flowers and she didn't know who they were from, but she wanted them to stop. But they wouldn't stop because she didn't know who was sending them so she couldn't stop him. It wasn't Jericho. She'd asked him yesterday, casually. It was almost the only thing she'd said during training. He'd joked that she even trained like Benoit. She didn't like that idea.

"Jerky," she'd said. "Have you been sending me flowers?"

"Maybe," was his reply, as he gave her a mysterious grin.

But she knew when he was lying and he hadn't sent them. So, who had? It, amongst other things, was driving her mad. Finally, she picked up the phone.

"Trish? It's Angel. Listen, can you come to my room? I really need to talk to someone. Thanks. Yep, see you soon."

Trish. If anyone could get to the bottom of mysterious admirer gifts, it was Trish Stratus.

* * * *

When the knock came, Angel leaped up to answer it, hoping it was Trish and not just another flower delivery guy. Sure enough, Trish was standing there.

"Angel, I'm on this floor too. Aren't these all single rooms? Oh…you look like death. What's wrong?"

"Benoit kissed me." The words were out of her mouth before she even knew she'd been thinking them.

"What?" Trish cried.

"Benoit kissed me. Thursday night. After SmackDown. He kissed me."

"Oh my God," Trish breathed. "I think I should come in."

"Yeah," Angel nodded urgently. "Me too."

They stepped into the room and shut the door. Angel flopped down onto the bed but Trish remained standing.

"Okay," Trish started gently. "What happened?"

Angel took a deep breath. "It was…um…just after the TLC match. Benoit was carrying me because I'd been knocked out again. And I didn't want him to. I kept telling him to put me down, but he wouldn't. So I…I told him I'd pants him if he didn't put me down. Then he slammed me against the wall, screamed at me…and kissed me." She dropped her head into her hands. "Oh God, Trish. He's married. He's got kids. What am I going to do?"

"Do?" Trish repeated, sitting down next to Angel and putting an arm around her. "I've been there and you don't have to do anything. It's not your fault, Angel. He kissed you. You're not the cheat here; he is."

Angel raised her head and swallowed. "I just might have…kissed him back."

Trish raised her eyebrows. "Did you or didn't you?"

Angel sighed. "I did."

"Oh," Trish murmured. "Well, don't worry. It's not as though you had sex with him. Did you?"

"No."

"Well, then you're fine. Technically he didn't even cheat. Where is he, anyway?"

"He's in Edmonton with his wife."

"Oh, so he got the guilts, eh?" Trish grinned. "Then you have nothing to worry about. Obviously it was a mistake, a spur of the moment thing. He's gone home to make amends so neither of you are about to let it happen again. You'll be back to hating each other again in no time."

"Thanks, Trish. That's sweet of you," Angel mused. "I just hope you're right."

"I am," Trish grinned. "You'll see."

Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Here we go again," Angel sighed, getting up to answer it.

Moments later, she returned holding a pair of long-stemmed roses. She read the card.

'Two roses, red as blood. Two hearts, beating together in time. Someday, hearts as flowers joined as one. Together. Forever.'

"Spooky," Angel murmured.

"What is?" Trish frowned.

"My stalker. I've been getting flowers since Friday morning. Here's the latest offering." She handed over the roses and the card. "When you're done with that you can read the others. They're all over the place."

Trish looked around the room, stunned by what she saw.

"You have no idea who's sending them?"

"None at all," Angel shrugged. "But it can’t be a fan. This dude knows me."

"I know who it is," Trish said suddenly.

"You do? Who?" Angel burst out.

"Jeff Hardy. At least I think so. Most of these are long-stemmed roses, right?"

Angel nodded. "Those have been coming since yesterday morning."

"Yeah, I thought so. Yesterday at breakfast, Jeff came up to me and asked me what your favorite kind of flower is. Well, I didn't know, so I figured, the more expensive, the better. So I told him long-stemmed roses. He really sent you all these?"

Angel nodded solemnly. "They never stop!"

"Well, that is so sweet," Trish grinned.

"No, not sweet. Sad. It's sad."

"Oh, come on Angel. It's romantic. I wish I had someone like Jeff. Someone who'd do anything for me."

"Wait a minute," Angel frowned. "Jeff wants me back?"

"You didn't know that?" Trish cried. "Of course he wants you back. He loves you."

"No, he doesn't," Angel protested. "He can't."

"And why not?"

"Because!" Angel snapped.

"That's not an answer, Angel."

"Because right now it's the last thing I need."

"Oh Angel, don't be like that," Trish pouted. "You have to look on the bright side. Jeff could be just what you need to take your mind off…you know…Benoit."

"No," Angel argued. "I just…why can't everyone just leave me alone? Me and Jeff broke up months ago. We were only seeing each other a week, for God's sake." Suddenly she jumped to her feet. "This has to stop. I'm going to tell him to stop."

She scooped up the nearest flowers and headed out the door.

Trish sighed and got up. "Poor Jeff. That guy has the worst timing. Seriously."

* * * *

Angel was a bottle rocket of nerves. At any second she could explode and then there'd be nothing left. Nothing.

Jeff's room was only a few doors down from her own. She pounded on the door but got no response. Okay. He'd be next door with Matt and Lita. She knocked on that one and finally the door opened. There stood Matt.

"Yeah?"

Angel's scowl was involuntary. "Send your brother out here so I can kick his ass."

Matt sighed and turned his head. "Jeff. You got company."

Angel waited and finally, there was Jeff. His green eyes were expectant, his expression curious. She glared at him and held out the flowers.

"Are these yours?"

"No," he replied gently. "They're yours."

"But you sent them?" Angel insisted.

"Yeah," Jeff sighed. "Yeah, I sent them."

Angel reached out, grabbed Jeff's arm and dragged him into the hallway.

"Can I ask why?"

"Because I wanted to," Jeff shrugged.

"Why?"

Jeff blinked heavily. "Angel…"

"Why, Jeff?" Angel interrupted. "Tell me why!"

"I…" Jeff started.

"Why?" Angel screamed. "Come on, Jeff. Out with it."

"Is everything okay, baby?" Jericho put a comforting arm around her. She gave him a half smile.

"Yeah, it's fine," she told him, before turning back to Jeff. "You…me…your room, now."

Jeff sighed and unlocked his door.

"Call if you need me, baby," Jericho advised, giving her a squeeze.

"That's okay," Angel told him. "I can handle it." Then she stormed in after Jeff and slammed the door. "Come on, Jeff. It can't be that hard. All I wanna know is why."

Jeff stared at her, eyes filled with confusion and hurt. "So, it is true."

"What's true?" Angel challenged.

"You and Jericho."

"What?" Angel cried. "Oh, nice try, Jeff, but this is about you. My hotel room looks like a damn funeral parlor. Tell me why."

"That depends," Jeff replied carefully. "On whether or not you're dating Chris Jericho."

"Depends?" Angel repeated. "It doesn't depend on anything. You sent me flowers. Why'd you do that?"

"I want you back," Jeff told her at last.

"You what?" Hearing him say it didn't make it any more believable.

"I want you back," Jeff repeated. "But I guess I'm too late. You're already taken. Again."

"Taken?"

"Yeah. By that son of a bitch Jericho."

"Son of a…" Angel started. "Jeff, he's supposed to be your friend!"

"Yeah, supposed to be," Jeff mused. "But real friends don't steal each other's girls."

"What?" Angel screamed and he knew he'd said the wrong thing. "Let's get something straight. I am not your girl. I'm not anyone's girl. We were together a week, Jeff. A week. I've had this broken arm longer than that. Jericho is just my friend…my best friend. So yeah, I guess you could say he did take your spot, but not as a boyfriend. I don't have a boyfriend. I don't need a boyfriend. I'm not even looking. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Jeff said softly.

"So the flowers. They have to stop. They're nice, but I don't want you spending your money on them. Okay?" Her voice was softer now.

"Yes," Jeff said again.

"Thank you." Angel stepped towards him, held her hand up and pressed it gently against his face. "I'm flattered you want me back. I really am. But I'm not healed yet. And I just need some space. Okay?"

Jeff nodded.

"Good. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I really didn't want to have to do that again. But I felt in the circumstances…" she trailed off and lowered her hand. "Stop the flowers and I guess I'll see you round. Okay?"

Jeff nodded again.

"Bye Jeff."

As she left, she actually gave him a smile. But it wasn't enough. She was the only one - the one who could scream at him and still leave him wanting more. She was the one who made him do weird things, like distrusting and beating the crap out of his friends, and sending her a fortune in flowers. She was the one and she didn't want him. She'd made that clear. But she'd also said she'd see him around. So maybe there was hope. There had to be. She was the one.