STUCK IN A MOMENT

RAW IS WAR, JUNE 11TH, 2001

The dream was back. She lay in his arms on the beach and picked up a handful of warm pale sand, letting the grains slip through her fingers like soft white silk. He held her close, whispering in her ear and she smiled and snuggled into him, wrapping her own arms over his. She loved this man, loved him with all her heart and he loved her too, just the same. He moved her gently in his arms, twisting her body around until they were face to face. And then he broke into a heart-melting smile and looked deep into her eyes.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you too," she whispered and their lips met, softly, gently. They parted, only to rejoin and deepen their kiss, loving, tender, perfect. His fingertips caressed her face as she stroked his back, between his shoulders. His muscles tightened and relaxed under her touch and still they kissed, sweetly but deeply. Finally, they broke apart with satisfied sighs. Angel had a smile on her lips as her eyes flickered open, only to widen in horror. Benoit. She’d just mistaken him for her dream guy.

He was still semi-sleeping, still caressing her face as he murmured contentedly. "Baby. Baby, baby, baby."

For a brief, beautiful moment, Angel was reminded of the night before, when he’d played the role of Jericho by calling her baby. But that was different. Now he was dreaming about his wife again. She tried to move out of his grasp and managed to raise her head enough to check the clock. Five-fifty. Ten minutes until training. It was time to get up.

She tried to wriggle free, when he suddenly grabbed her, threw her back onto the bed and kissed her roughly, harshly. He broke away to give her an evil smirk.

"Good morning, slave."

And then he was kissing her again, slamming his body down on top of hers, moving his hands, his hips.

Angel was mortified. She was turned on, true, but this time her mortification took over. How could he? How could he dream about his wife one second and then jump on Angel the next? It just sickened her. He was horny this morning, real horny, probably from dreaming about his wife. He wanted her, he was ready. No foreplay, no nothing. Angel summoned all her strength and threw him off her, then leaped out of bed, landing on her feet. Benoit tried to grab her but she slipped from his grasp.

"Hey!" he growled. "Get your ass back here. I’m not done with you yet."

That was all she was to him. An object, a toy. She gave him the finger and walked on.

"I said, get back here!"

"It’s time for training," she replied simply. "If I screw you now I’ll be late. I’m not going to let that happen."

"I didn’t train yesterday," he told her matter-of-factly.

Angel shrugged. "Well, maybe you should catch it up today."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Did you just tell me what to do?"

Angel shrugged and picked up her boots. "Do what you want. I don’t care. I’m going to training."

"Let me remind you," Benoit said coldly. "You don’t tell me what to do. I tell you what to do. You’re my slave. You do what I say. And right now you’re gonna take your pants off and get your ass back here. Now!"

"Piss off," Angel muttered, going for her other boot.

"Did you just say no to me?" Benoit demanded furiously.

"Actually, I told you to piss off. You’re gonna have to have a wank this morning because I’m not willing."

"You won’t take your pants off?" Benoit roared.

"Piss off," Angel repeated, heading for the door, now fully clothed.

"Fine," Benoit mused. "I guess I’ll have to do it for you."

And then he pounced on her, knocked her to the floor as he tore at her clothes, getting access to her body.

"You say you’re going to training," Benoit murmured as he worked his magic. "And I say you’re staying here. That is a dilemma, isn’t it?"

Angel moaned and tried to struggle free, but her fighting just increased the sensation. Before she knew it she was a quivering, whimpering mess, completely helpless, completely as his mercy.

"Harder?" he murmured, voice heavy as her reaction increased his own lust. "Faster?"

"Yes," Angel moaned breathlessly. "More…more…please, more."

Benoit eyed her clinically and gave a little nod, giving her what she wanted.

"Now," he growled huskily. "Say my name."

Angel was only too eager to please, feeling the intensity building inside her. The unbeatable, unstoppable pleasure. "Benoit, oh, Benoit, oh…oh…Benoit."

Benoit gave a crisp nod. He could have finished her off. It wouldn’t have taken much more, and she was begging for it, but the need to be inside her was just too strong. He’d wanted it since he woke up, he’d been ready back then and now, hearing her calling his name like that, hearing her beg, well, there was no way in hell she was going to make him wait a moment more. She was his and he was going to take her, right now.

And so he scooped her up. She cried out at the sudden loss of movement and tried to hook her legs around his waist, trying to steal control from him, but he wasn’t having any of that, no way. She was his. He threw her down on the bed and jumped on top of her. She grabbed for him, but he propped himself up, staring at her coldly as she frowned her desperation.

"You want it?" he asked cruelly, his body completely still.

She nodded frantically. "Yes, yes, please, now, Benoit, now."

He gave a slow nod and cocked his head slightly. "Now?" Funny, even when he was so close to the edge himself, he could pull control from nowhere and use it to his advantage.

"Now, now, please, now." She was gone, the bitch was gone.

He gave a low chuckle, roared, "Now?" once more and plunged his body down. She screamed as he took her over, again and again.

"Never forget who you belong to," he growled as he found his rhythm and he felt her screams condensing in his ears as he relinquished control and ceased to be, ceased to be. "You’re mine. Never forget. Never…never…never…" No control, it was gone and her screams sailed around him and her body wrapped around him, everywhere, every inch. "Oh…oh…oh…" he moaned. It was his voice, but where was it coming from? Not him. "Oh God…oh…oh…princess. Princess…oh…little girl…princess." And his mouth slammed down on hers, taking it, invading it, possessing it. And still his voice called for her as her voice reached fever pitch. He called for her, all of her, all her names, the ones Jericho called her. "Oh…baby, Rogue, oh…oh…" He was there, he could see it, feel it, just a little…just…more…more… "Oh…oh God, oh…princess!"

He roared into her, so loud, so powerful, so insanely, intensely phenomenal. And then he collapsed on top of her, panting heavily. They just lay there, completely exhausted, until he finally found enough energy to raise his head and check the clock.

"You better go to training," he said, still panting. "You’re late."

"What?" she shrieked, pushing him off and leaping to her feet. "You bastard. You did that on purpose."

She bustled around, adjusting her clothes, putting on the ones he’d pulled off.

"Come now," Benoit breathed, leaning back. "You can’t say it wasn’t worth it."

"Suck my dick, Benoit," she scowled, storming out of the room.

"Actually, princess," he murmured, hunting for the phone so he could call room service. "I think that’s the reason you’re late."

She wouldn’t have appreciated that comment. Some people just had no sense of humor.

* * * *

Benoit dragged Angel along, his hand firmly gripping her wrist.

"Let me go," Angel scowled, trying to struggle free. She didn’t like this. If Jeff or Lita saw…

"You’d rather I did this?" Benoit mused, grabbing at her and kissing her, his mouth taking possession of hers as one hand gripped her ass and the other held her behind the head. He was pushing her into him, crushing her against his body, pressing her hips against his so she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. When he finally broke away she stared at him, eyes filled with fear.

"No."

"Then shut up," Benoit snapped, pulling her along again.

Angel frantically looked around. Amazingly, no one seemed to have seen them. How lucky could she be?

"Hi Angel. Hi Benoit."

She froze. Holy shit. Jeff.

"Hi Jeff," she replied, giving him a small stressed smile. He was wearing a purple Team Xtreme shirt and held his title belt over his shoulder.

"Nice win on Smackdown, Benoit," he said with a smile.

Benoit gave him a skeptical frown, squeezing Angel’s wrist so hard she almost cried out. "Thanks. You too."

Jeff broke into a grin, as if Benoit’s approval actually meant something.

"Angel," he went on. "I’ve been thinking about what I did on Thursday, how I, you know, accidentally kissed you…"

"Oh, forget it, Jeff," Angel shrugged as Benoit threw her arm down. "Don’t worry about it."

And suddenly Benoit’s hand was on her ass. She almost jumped a mile, but instead stiffened, hoping to God that Jeff wouldn’t see.

Remarkably, he didn’t. "Oh no, Angel. See, I thought I’d make it up to you, you know, prove I’m your friend. And what I figured it this. You remember, back when you first came to the WWF how y'all used to valet for me, Matt and Lita? Well, I thought tonight I’d return the favor."

"What?" Angel frowned, finding it hard to think as Benoit’s hand trailed around and reached her hip. She wanted to slap him away or at least tell him to get the hell off her, but she was afraid if she did that he’d grab her and kiss her and if he did, she knew she’d kiss him back. She could never say no to him. Never.

"You know," Jeff grinned. "I’ll be your valet. I mean, me and Matt have tag against X-Factor, but if I pull up okay from that… So, how about it? One valet, free of charge." He gave her a smile so hopeful it made her sick with guilt. Benoit’s fingers were creeping into the waistband of her pants. Any second Jeff would look down. And then he’d know. Oh boy, he’d know. She knew she had to answer him, but in the end Benoit beat her to the punch.

"Are you stupid?"

Jeff frowned. "What?"

"She’s a valet," Benoit mocked him. "What the hell would she need with a valet?"

"Well, I was just…"

"You were just stupid, that’s what you were. And don’t look at her like she’d going to make it all better, because she’s not. She belongs to me. If she wants to breathe she has to ask me first. Is that clear?"

Jeff looked absolutely dumbfounded. Benoit stared at him coolly and went on.

"If you want to ask her something, you ask me. Now, what is it you wanted to know?"

Jeff’s frown degenerated into a glare as he slowly shook his head. "Look, just forget it. I’ll see you later, Angel."

Angel waited until he was out of earshot before she grabbed Benoit’s hand and threw it off her.

"What in the hell was that?" she demanded, slamming her hands onto her hips and glaring at him furiously.

Benoit held her gaze, his face expressionless. "You belong to me."

"The hell I do!" she cried. "Not when it comes to stuff like that."

"Like what, princess?" Benoit asked. "Jeff Hardy? He’s nothing."

"He’s not nothing," Angel scowled. "He’s a nice guy. He’s sweet and thoughtful."

"And he’s in love with you," Benoit mocked, before running his eyes hungrily up and down her body. "And you see that? He will never ever have that. Because it’s mine. It belongs to me."

Angel slowly shook her head. "Kiss my ass, Benoit."

Benoit smirked at her. "Kiss your ass, your stomach, your breasts, whatever the hell I want. You’re mine and you know it."

Angel pouted. He drove her insane. She couldn’t stand him. Nobody pissed her off or turned her on half as much as he did. She knew they had to get out of the hallway. She didn’t know what he’d try but meeting up with Jeff had just been too spooky. She knew she had to get away, like she’d planned with Jericho last night, but she couldn’t, not with Benoit everywhere, as he was. He could manipulate her with sex and he knew it, and she hated him for it, but that’s the way it was.

"Come on," Benoit said coolly, grabbing her wrist again. "Jericho will be waiting for us."

Angel sighed and let him lead her along, realizing with a sick dread that she wanted his hand on her ass again.

As they reached the locker room, Angel sped up so that by the time they stepped through the door she flung her gym bag across the room and propelled herself forward, tearing away from Benoit and wrapping her arms around Jericho. He was surprised, but then gently patted her back, feeling her wince at his touch.

"Hey, baby. How’s it going?"

Angel gripped him tightly, determined to keep her tears at bay. She was not going to cry in front of Benoit. No way. Instead she spoke two words, so quiet only Jericho could hear.

"Help me."

Then she cried out involuntarily as Benoit grabbed at the back of her pants and dragged her off Jericho, shoving her roughly towards the bench.

"Go sit down over there." He turned to Jericho, a curious expression on his face. "Do we have opponents yet?"

Jericho gave an enigmatic frown. "Chris Jericho and Chris Benoit, come on down!" he cried. "You’re the next two contestants on Vinnie Mac and Slick Willie’s exciting new game show, ‘Guess What I’m Thinking'!"

Benoit just shrugged coolly. "Doesn’t matter. I’m more over than I’ve ever been. I’ll have a match."

"Oh, we’ll both have matches," Jericho agreed. "I just have a feeling they’re not gonna be pretty. Word is you’re about to get some major heat for pulling down Austin’s trunks on SmackDown."

Benoit shrugged again. "Like no one’s ever pulled my trunks for the win. How about you?"

Jericho grinned. "Well, we all know Commissioner Assclown’s my bosom buddy. Apparently he’s still sore about the Walls of Jericho, Crippler Crossface and Mandible Claw a week ago and since I’m the only one of the three of us he can touch…"

Benoit nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. So we prepare for the worst. Bitch," he went on, turning to Angel. "Go get us all some food and bring it back here."

Angel frowned at him warily.

"Now!" Benoit insisted, blue eyes shining right through her.

She leaped to her feet and fled, before he could throw her up against the wall or something similar. He’d had that look in his eyes again – the one that both thrilled and terrified her. She knew she had to end it, that she had to get away but she couldn’t, she just couldn’t. Imagining a night without screwing Benoit was like imagining a night without breathing. It was impossible.

The catering room was packed with various arena and WWF employees, including countless wrestlers – the Dudley Boyz, the Big Show, Raven, Essa Rios, the remnants of Right To Censor, Jerry Lynn, the X-Factor. Obviously it was feeding time at the zoo. Angel stepped up to the buffet table, puzzling over how to carry three plates and bottles of drink, and trying to recall that terrible week back home when she’d attempted to be a waitress.

"Hell, Angel. You know, I saw your fine body from across the room, so I decided to come talk to you. I know, it must be overwhelming for you, but you don’t have to thank me now. That can be done later tonight, after the show, back at the hotel."

Angel ignored him, scooping food systematically onto three plates.

Malenko was unfazed. "Do you have any idea how it affects me to see you? What you have me thinking, just by looking at you?"

"Does it have something to do with all the times I’ve kicked your ass?" Angel mocked him, still not turning around.

"Now, Angel, I know you don’t mean that. You’re just nervous because of my overwhelming masculinity. You don’t have to be nervous, my Angel. You don’t have to pretend anymore. I know you can’t resist me, and the thing is, you don’t have to."

Angel spun and glared at him incredulously. "Excuse me?"

Malenko broke into a lecherous grin, his eyes fixed on her breasts.

"I’ll teach you not to be nervous, my lovely," he said softly. "I know that you’re very young, but you mustn’t underestimate the benefits of an experienced lover. You can’t even imagine…"

"Dean," growled a low voice, cutting him off. "Is there a problem here?"

Malenko jumped and looked up into the calculated glare of Chris Benoit.

"Chris! No, I was just chatting to the broad, you know…"

Benoit’s eyebrows shot up. "Whose broad, Dean?"

Malenko looked puzzled. "Well, I…that is to say, she…"

Benoit stared at him impatiently. "Well, maybe this’ll jog your memory." With that, he grabbed Angel behind the head and clamped his mouth down on hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, possessing her, teasing her, and she couldn’t help it, grabbing at him and kissing him back, just as hungrily. Benoit finally broke the kiss with a heavy suction sound, and turned to Malenko, a smug smirk on his face. "Well, Dean? Whose broad?"

Malenko was absolutely speechless.

Benoit gave a couple of nods before his smirk changed to a cold glare. "Get the hell out of my sight."

Angel watched, bewildered, as Malenko walked quickly away. What the hell? This was a crowded catering room and Benoit was kissing her? And it wasn’t just the crowd of people. There were cameras in here. Anything could go to air, and if it did, Benoit’s wife would see. Surely she watched her husband on TV to ease the pain of being so far away from him. If she saw him kissing another woman, kissing his valet…

"Pick up the food. Jericho’s waiting for us."

Angel stared at him blankly, her swollen lips still tingling from his attack on them.

Benoit ran his eyes up and down her body. "Do I need to go down on you right now? Do I need to make you scream my name in front of all these people? Well, do I? Answer me!"

Angel frowned at him. "What the hell’s the matter with you? There are people eating in here."
Benoit shrugged. "I don’t care."

"I know you don’t," Angel scowled. "But you should. What’s your damn problem?"

Benoit spoke calmly, his words clear and even. "You are mine. You belong to me."

Angel wanted to make a scene. She wanted to cry, she wanted to throw food at him, but she was too scared of him, of what would happen if she did. What if he carried through with his threat of making her scream his name? What if he threw her down right there and screwed her on the floor, next to the buffet? He could do it, she was sure of it. And so she didn’t make a scene. Instead, she picked up anything she could reach, and, with trembling legs, left the room.

* * * *

Benoit sat on a folding chair, eyes fixed on the TV. Angel perched a few feet behind him on the bench, but she wasn’t watching the screen as closely as he was. She should have been out there; she’d wanted to go, but Jericho had said that, in the circumstances, it wasn’t a good idea. His reasoning had nothing to do with Benoit, it was because of the match itself. A handicap against the Big Show and Rhyno. Since he wasn’t even sure he’d make it out alive, he definitely couldn’t let her down there.

So she’d stayed in the locker room…with Benoit. While he watched the match, she was transfixed on him, watching his muscles move in perfect coordination as he breathed in and out, in and out. She lifted her focus. He had sensational shoulders. So strong, so perfect. And his neck, Even his neck was muscular. It had her spellbound. She longed to pounce on him, grab him by those shoulders and sink her teeth into that neck, make him roar with pain and pleasure. Lust screamed through her entire body, setting each cell alight with its touch. Her breathing became shallower as her heart raced frantically and he sat there breathing calmly, his hands moving in his lap. That was a nervous habit he had. Not many people knew he was a notorious hand wringer, but sometimes he just couldn’t keep them still. Angel longed to suck on each of his fingers in turn, to get him to stop. And then, if he was still nervous… Her eyes darted down to the TV. Jericho’s match wasn’t over. He’d be gone at least another ten minutes. They had time for a quickie, and a Benoit quickie, good Lord, it was amazing. She had to have him. She had to have him now. So she threw herself on him, kissing him furiously. The chair almost tipped, but somehow remained upright as she moved in his lap, twisting her hips, her thighs. Benoit kissed her back, roughly, eagerly, sucking her tongue into his mouth, making her moan with pleasure as she tore at his ‘Victim of the Crossface’ muscle top, pulling it urgently over his head. She bit at his neck, his chest, tugging furiously at his flesh, making him gasp with pleasure. This only made her go harder. Her teeth ran across his nipple and he cried out.

"Oh yes…oh, God, yes…" He slid his arms up inside her top, letting out a frustrated moan when he realized she was wearing a bra. Angel decided to help him out, shrugging off her top and unhooking her bra as he grabbed desperately at her breasts. He bent to kiss them as his hands continued down her body, fumbling at her pants. She did the same to him, easing his tights down, trying to drag them over his hips. And then the chair toppled over and they were on the ground.

Benoit let out a cry and yanked her pants down, not all the way, but enough. And then he fell on top of her, moving urgently, thrusting his hips against hers. Angel gasped her pleasure as he growled his desire into her ear, low, hot and sexy, and he slammed deep into her. Damn, he was good, he was so, so good. At the back of her mind was the realization that anyone could walk in and catch them, anyone, but it seemed so pointless now that he was on her, in her, and besides, she’d started it this time.

"Oh, Benoit," she whispered, her voice fragmenting, removing itself from her control. Soon she’d be screaming. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t help anything he did to her. She knew she had to end it, knew she had to get away, but she couldn’t, couldn’t. He was a drug, a drug and she needed him, needed him…no one else could even…even…even…

"Benoit! Oh, Benoit! Benoit!" She gripped his shoulders tightly, relinquishing all ownership of her own voice, her own body. Whatever he wanted…whatever… She was his, surer than water was wet. She belonged to him.

* * * *

Angel lay flat on her back, staring at the roof as the intense bolts of pleasure continued to overwhelm her body, refusing to go away, not that she wanted them to. Quickies weren’t supposed to be that intense. No way.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head up.

"Put your clothes back on. Jericho’s match is over."

She nodded pathetically and lay there for another few seconds before rational thought returned. Jericho. She’d just screwed Benoit on the locker room floor. The very cold, carpetless, somewhat dusty, bloody freezing locker room floor. What was wrong with her?

‘Slut, slut, slut,’ she thought, picking up her bra and putting it back on. Just as she collected her shirt, a voice from the TV filled her ears and she spun quickly. It was one of those voices she felt compelled to listen to, as its owner may eventually decide her fate. Shane McMahon. He was talking to Kane.

"Hey, listen, Kane, hold on a second. I’ve been trying to track you down. I gotta thank you for last week."

"Thank me?" Kane asked in his impossibly low voice. "Thank me for what?"

"Yes," Shane nodded. "You see, you saved my ass with your brother. Saved my ass, okay? That whole Sara thing? I had nothing to do with that."

Angel gave a frown and a slight nod. Everyone knew that the Undertaker’s wife Sara was being stalked by some sicko with a camcorder, but no one seemed to know who it was. Undertaker was livid and Shane had been one of the first on his list of suspects. If it hadn’t been for Kane showing up in the nick of time…

Shane went on. "Well, I’ve been racking my brain all weekend and I shouldn’t be involved…I shouldn’t stick my nose in family business, okay, I shouldn’t do that."

"Shane," Kane cut in. "If you know something…"

Shane was obviously intimidated by the huge man staring him down. "I…I…" he started, before trying again. "The only thing I do know, okay, the only thing I do know is that one person, okay, I know one person, for a fact, interferes with marital affairs. I know that."

‘Oh shit!’ Angel’s mind screamed. ‘He’s talking about me. He must have caught me and Benoit. The Undertaker’s going to murder me.’

But Shane wasn’t done yet. "Just like Stephanie and Triple H. Who was the one person who interfered in their marriage?"

Angel gasped. ‘It is me! That crack to Stephanie about Hunter groping me in the Ladies room. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.’

"Not to point any fingers," Shane continued as Angel squeezed her eyes shut. "But it was Kurt Angle. Now, that’s a fact."

"What?" Angel cried, her eyes wide.

Kurt Angle? She couldn’t breathe as she remembered the whole story from Benoit’s ‘Best of Kurt Angle’ tapes. The Olympic Zero and Stephanie had had a June to September affair in 2000. It had been a huge scandal, drawing universal condemnation for Kurt.

"I’m just like him," Angel murmured as Shane and Kane finished talking. "He screws around with married women, I screw around with married men. We’re both disgusting, cheating, well, sluts. Shane’s right to condemn us. Can’t we find our own lovers? No, we have to steal other people’s. We’re nothing. We deserve everything that comes our way. Everything."

She didn’t even realize that, so quietly that Benoit couldn’t hear her, so quietly that she couldn’t even hear herself, she’d begun to cry.

* * * *

Angel walked numbly as Benoit gripped her wrist. Tonight she was leaving. She couldn’t do this anymore. She didn’t want to be this husband-stealing whore. This wasn’t her. She was a good girl. She went to confession at least twice a year and said her prayers, not always just when she needed something. But now she did need something. She needed help.

"Lord above and blessed mother Mary," she murmured, her words audible only to her. "I need you. If you can get me out of this, I promise you, it will never, ever happen again. I know this isn’t who you want me to be, it’s not who I want to be either. I know it has to stop but I can’t…I can’t do it alone. I need your help. Please, please help me." She crossed herself, careful not to knock her other arm in case Benoit turned back. "By the father, the son and the Holy Spirit, amen."

She let out a huge breath and kept on walking. Now, if only it would work.

They were on their way to Benoit’s steel cage match against Kurt Angle. He wasn’t too worried about it, since that night Kurt had already taken a Last Ride, courtesy of the Undertaker and an Olympic Slam, courtesy of Shane McMahon.

Angel nodded glumly. Benoit should win easily. She hoped he would; it’d top off a great night for him, since he’d just found out that he and Jericho would have a triple threat for Stone Cold’s title at King of the Ring. They’d take Austin out together, then, out of the two of them, the best man would win. Suddenly, a sound filled her ears and she cocked her head to take it in. It was music and she could only just make out the words.

‘I’m not afraid of anything in this world.

There’s nothing you can throw at me that I haven’t already heard.’

Angel listened more intently as they got closer to the music’s source. Damn, that was apt.

‘I never thought you were a fool

But darling, look at you

You gotta stand up straight, carry your own weight

These tears are going nowhere, baby.

‘You’ve got to get yourself together

You’ve got stuck in a moment and now you can’t get out of it.

Don’t say that later will be better now you’re

Stuck in a moment and you can’t get out of it.’

And suddenly she was up against the wall and Benoit was grinding into her, kissing her frantically. Angel struggled to get free, desperately trying to kill the flames of desire already taking her over.

"Well, gosh, that’s intense, it’s true, but where’s your integrity, huh?"

Benoit tore his mouth away from Angel and turned to Kurt with a smirk, before crashing back into Angel again.

Kurt walked away in disgust.

Benoit’s hands got busy, touching her, grabbing her as his tongue wrapped around hers, coaxing it into movement.

"N-no!" Angel cried, barely believing she’d said it.

Benoit pulled back slightly. "What?"

Angel wanted to cry, she wanted to scream. This was too hard, too, too hard.

"You have a match," she said weakly as he still moved against her. "You’re going to miss it. It’s a cage match. Don’t you think you should be taking it a little more seriously?"

Benoit raised his eyebrows, then grabbed her by the back of the head and took possession of her mouth again.

‘Okay,’ Angel thought, helplessly closing her eyes. ‘I tried. I give up. I give up.’

Her arms moved around him, holding him to her, eagerly returning his kiss. Suddenly he pulled back, gave a low, evil chuckle, grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the hallway.

They waited in the gorilla position as Kurt made his entrance. Benoit was supposed to go first but that hadn’t exactly happened.

Finally, ‘Shooter’ played. Benoit took a deep breath and walked. Angel stepped solemnly by his side, eyes focused on the cage. Last steel cage match she’d had to pull a hurricanrana from the top just to get her guy the win. What this time? Benoit was staring at something else. Stone Cold Steve Austin was sitting at the announce desk, watching Benoit with an evil grin on his face. Benoit nodded coolly, handed his title belt to Angel and climbed into the ring.

"Let’s go, Benoit!" Angel applauded, walking around the ring.

"That’s it, girlie," called a voice. "Go ahead and cheer for that sum’bitch."

Angel turned, a mocking smirk on her face. ‘You want a piece of me, Austin? I’m not afraid of you."

"Oh, you’re not, uh?" Austin challenged, climbing to his feet.

"No, Steve!" cried JR. "She’s just a girl. You don’t need to be doing that. That’s not proving a point."

"Oh, it ain’t?" Austin challenged, glaring at JR. "Well, I wouldn’t want to upset you, Jim. I’ll just concentrate on Benoit. I hope Kurt destroys him. I hate the little snaggle-toothed bastard. Can I go on record saying that, Jim? Does that offend you?"

"You’re Stone Cold Steve Austin," JR replied. "You can say anything you like."

"That’s right," Austin agreed, not realizing he was being mocked. "I can."

Angel applauded anxiously as Benoit reversed a belly to belly suplex into an armbar and tried to drop Kurt into crossface but just couldn’t lock it on.

"Come on, Benoit!" she cried. "Lock it on! Lock it on!"

But Kurt simply grabbed Benoit’s head and bounced it off the wall of the cage.

"Come on, Benoit!" Angel shrieked.

Kurt grabbed him again and dragged him to his feet, then stared down at Angel with an evil smile. "You see this, Angel? You see what I’m doing to your boyfriend?" He bounced Benoit’s head off the wall again. "Well, did you? Did you see that?" He sank his boot into Benoit’s fallen body. "I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill your boyfriend, Angel. He’ll regret making my match late because he and you were necking in the hallway. Whoo!"

Suddenly, Benoit reversed into a knife edge chop.

"You son of a bitch!" he roared, hitting him again and again. Kurt managed to whip him into the other corner, but he stopped Kurt’s charge by raising his legs, then launching another series of chops.

"Yeah, Benoit!" Angel cried.

Benoit whipped Kurt back into the corner and ran at him, but Kurt ducked and lifted him right into the cage.

"You see that, Angel?"

"Yeah, I see it, Kurt," Angel sighed. "Just shut the hell up and get on with the match, pussy."

Kurt smirked at her, picked up Benoit and slammed him into the wall again.

"Listen, listen. I think Benoit’s crying," Austin said suddenly. "You hear him whining in there? It’s ‘cause he’s getting his little ass kicked. He’s getting his ass handed to him. He’s whimpering like a little baby. It makes me sick."

"Argh!" Angel screamed, launching herself over the announce desk and onto Austin. She punched him furiously with her right hand, grabbing at her sticks with her left.

"Get her off me!" Austin grunted. "Get this little bitch off me."

Angel fought wildly, swinging her arms furiously, digging in her knees, headbutting him. Suddenly, she was grabbed around the waist. She tried to struggle free, still hitting Austin, grabbing at him, but she was losing the battle. She went for one last shot, grabbing him by the neck and sinking her teeth deep into his forehead. Then she was dragged away and placed on her feet as a ref restrained her.

"You can’t do that," he warned her.

"I’m sorry," Angel snapped, breathing heavily and tasting something salty in her mouth. Good. She’d drawn blood. The son of a bitch deserved it.

"Try something like that again and you’re out of here," the ref warned.

Now Austin was the one whining. "Look, the little bitch bit me. She bit at me like a little dog. I’m gonna have to get a shot now, she’s probably rabid. Get your ass back here, girlie, so I can hand it to you. Look at her, running away like some little coward. My name is Stone Cold Steve Austin. I am the World Wrestling Federation Champion and I do not deserve to be treated like that."

"Well, Steve," JR replied. "What do you deserve?"

"You sassin’ me?" Stone Cold asked, glaring over at him.

"No, sir," JR replied.

"It ain’t none of your business. Quit sassin’ me."

"Come on, Benoit!" Angel cried from the other side of the cage. "Kurt’s climbing. He’s climbing!"

Benoit raced after Kurt and tried to pull him down, only to receive a kick in the head.

"Come on! Come on!" She leaped onto the cage herself and climbed as Benoit still stood on the top rope, trying to drag Kurt down. He got him to the ropes and then formed the waistlock.

"Yes!" Angel cried, continuing to climb. "Suplex him!"

Benoit leaned back, trying to loose Kurt’s grip, but he was holding on too tightly.

"Don’t worry," Angel murmured, still climbing. "Just hold on. I’ll make him let go."

They locked eyes for a second and Benoit gave a small nod. Emotions roared through Angel, but she had a job to do. She reached up and began prizing Kurt’s fingers from the wire, one by one.

"You’re going down, pussy!"

Seconds later, both Benoit and Angle fell to the mat in a devastating German suplex. Angel nodded her satisfaction, but still clung to the cage, watching like a hawk.

Benoit was first up. He stumbled around, catching his bearings, before he spotted Angel. He climbed the ropes, coming closer and closer to her height. His fingers found the same handholds as hers and curled over them. They were face to face.

"Princess," he murmured wearily, moving closer to the wire. He was going to kiss her. Kiss her through the cage. In front of the crowd. In front of everyone.

"No!" Angel cried, her voice surprising her once again. "Climb the cage. In the corner, where it’s easier. Win the match. Come on, come on!"

Benoit blinked and moved along the top rope towards the corner.

Angel let out a huge sigh of relief. That had been so close. If he’d kissed her then, it would have been the end, and not just for her. The end of his marriage, the end of his life. And then Kurt Angle slammed into the cage and she fell heavily to the ground.

By the time she picked herself up, both Benoit and Kurt were on the mat again. They got up at the same time, trading punches, until Kurt raked Benoit’s eyes.

"Come on, Benoit!" Angel cried. "Fire up, come on!"

Kurt tried for a whip, but Benoit reversed it and slammed him into the cage, three times in a row, before stomping on his head.

"Yes!" Angel squealed excitedly. "Climb the cage! Come on!"

Benoit let out a groan and dragged himself to the top rope, then started on the cage.

"Look out!" Angel shouted. "Kurt’s right behind you! He’s…"

Bam! Kurt hit the low blow and Benoit fell to the canvas, clutching his groin. Kurt hit the Angle Slam and climbed to his feet. This was it. He was going to win.

"Over my dead body," Angel muttered, racing around the ring and, as Kurt began to climb, so did she. She kept slightly beneath him, moving quietly, so he wouldn’t be able to hear her over his own breathing and the pounding of his heart.

There was a pole, a support, hanging diagonally from the top. Angel grabbed it and, taking a deep breath, twisted her body like a monkey. Her feet slammed into Kurt’s hands, hard and he screamed but somehow held on.

"Angel!" he shouted. Now he knew she was there. He tried to kick her away, but she held the pole firmly and, if anything, he was just knocking himself off balance. So, he decided to continue his climb.

"I’m not going to let you beat me, Angel. Not you, not Benoit, no freaking way. I’m going to beat the both of you, because I am an Olympic gold medallist and I’m better than you. I’m better than everyone." He reached the top and got to his feet. "Now, all I have to do is climb down. You can’t stop me. No one can."

Angel let out a cry and launched herself. Her feet reached the pole and she slipped, but grabbed frantically for the cage and held it tightly. Phew. Kurt was right above her, right there, but she’d need both hands and that might push her off balance. Was it worth it? Without another thought, she reached out and shoved Kurt with everything she had. Her body hit the cage and flew backwards. She was falling, falling. She went limp, ready to take the impact on the Latissimus Dorsi, just as Benoit had taught her. But, just as her back was about to slam into the ground, she hit something else.

"You are one crazy valet, you know that?"

Angel raised her head to see who had broken her fall. It was the ref, the one who’d dragged her off Stone Cold.

"I know," she said simply, turning back to the ring. Both men were down. She’d done it – she’d shoved Kurt to the canvas. He was just lying there, and so was Benoit. Benoit in great pain. Benoit, who’d tried to kiss her during the match. A damn wrestling steel cage match. Benoit with the intense blue eyes and annoying Canadian accent. Benoit, who sometimes forgot to shave for days on end but always remembered every instance of someone pissing him off. Benoit, who, as a small-for-his-age fourteen year old, had met his hero the Dynamite Kid and told him he was going to be a wrestler. Benoit, the brutal, violent, uncaring asshole. He was so beautiful she could hardly stand it and yet so ugly too. So damn ugly.

She started to cheer him on, to call out, "Come on, Benoit" but the words caught in her throat.

Kurt Angle was on the mat, too. Kurt Angle, who’d held her back while she was beaten up. Her mind was cloudy, there were voices everywhere.

"Kurt kissed a married woman!"

"Triple H is livid."

"I showed her the kind of passion you could only dream about, pal."

"Stephanie and Triple H. Who was the one person who interfered in their marriage? It was Kurt Angle."

"He’s taking Stephanie with him."

"Kurt Angle and I are just friends. Just friends."

'But me and Benoit aren’t even friends,’ Angel thought. ‘What exactly are we? Lovers? I don’t love him, he doesn’t love me. I know what we are. We’re nothing. He’s married.’

JR’s voice was in her mind again, standing out from the collage. "You don’t mess with marriage. It’s just not right."

Angel sighed and stared helplessly at the bodies in the ring as the music from before filled her memory.

‘You’ve got to get yourself together

You’ve got stuck in a moment and now you can’t get out of it.

Don’t say that later will be better now you’re

Stuck in a moment and you can’t get out of it.’

Angel gave one last sigh and slowly shook her head.

"Good luck, Benoit," she whispered. "I hope you win."

Then she turned and walked away, up the ramp and down the hall, never looking back.

* * * *

Jericho stood against the wall, outside her door. She’d wanted to take care of it herself, with him as emergency backup.

"Come on, Rogue," he mumbled to himself. "If you work fast enough we’ll be out of here before Benoit even…oh…hey, Benoit."

"Hey," Benoit replied, staring at him with pain still shining in his eyes. "Is she in there?"

"Yeah," Jericho nodded. "But you might want to hold off a few minutes. She’s…"

"Jericho," Benoit scowled. "I just got the living hell beat out of me. I want to go into my hotel room and go to sleep. Is that okay with you?"

"Of course, but…"

"Good," Benoit replied, wrenching the door open.

Angel froze when she spotted him and dropped her bags.

"Where were you?" Benoit asked coolly.

Angel swallowed and picked up her bags again.

"I said, where were you? You’re my valet, you’re supposed to be at my match. Every match, every minute. Why’d you leave? Well? Answer me. Answer me!"

Angel raised her head and looked him right in the eye. "It’s over, Benoit. I can’t do this anymore. It’s over."

Benoit’s gaze darkened. "No," he said at last. "You don’t tell me when it’s over. I tell you. I own you. You do whatever I tell you, whenever I tell you. I say when it’s over."

"Oh God, Benoit!" Angel cried. "What about your wife?"

Benoit stopped. "What about my wife?"

"What would she think, Benoit? How would she feel if she knew? I can’t live with it anymore and I don’t understand how you can."

"I told you," Benoit said evenly. "My wife is not part of this life."

"Oh, and I am?" Angel cried. "Get a clue, Benoit. You can’t treat her like that. You can’t have her at home with your kids while you have a little of me on the side. I won’t let you do that to her."

Benoit blinked. "She doesn’t have to know."

"Yeah, and I’m glad she doesn’t know," Angel told him. "But I’ve had enough of absorbing your guilt. I’m not going to do it anymore."

Benoit looked her up and down. "You think you’re special, don’t you, princess? You think you’re different, that you’re so much better than the others."

"What?" Angel screamed. "There were others? Oh my God, Benoit, oh my God!"

"Shut up!" Benoit snapped.

"No, I won’t shut up. Here I was, feeling like absolute shit for sleeping with you, thinking I was a homewrecking little slut, when it’s actually all because of you. You’re the slut. I can’t believe you! God!"

"Shut up!" Benoit shouted. "You have no right to speak to me like that. No right. You don’t know my wife. You’ve never even met her."

"And that’s a damn good thing, too," Angel scowled. "Because if I did I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from telling her what a lying, cheating asshole you are."

Benoit grabbed her by the front of the shirt and slammed his mouth against hers.

"Get off me!" Angel shrieked. "Get the hell off me." She shoved him away. "I don’t want you near me. You’re disgusting. Ugh. I can’t believe I’m one in a long line of Benoit’s skanks. God!"

Benoit stared at her coolly. "That was different," he said evenly.

"Different? How the hell was it different?"

"They were different."

"Oh, really?" Angel cried. "How, Benoit? Let me guess. They were blonde? They wore dresses? Forget this. I’m out of here."

"Stop." He sounded so insistent she actually paused and turned to him.

His eyes were wild and full of pain. She knew that he’d lost the match and that Austin had beaten the crap out of him with a chair once it was done, but he’d never complain about it. That just wasn’t his style. He lived with pain every day of his life and struggled through it on his own, never once asking for help. He didn’t need any help. He didn’t need anyone.

"Give me one reason why I should," she replied coldly.

He blinked heavily, trying to push the pain away for just a moment. "Doesn’t it mean anything to you? Everything I’ve done for you? I took you in. I fed you, clothed you, gave you money. You had everything you wanted and I taught you. I taught you to wrestle. Everything I know I taught you. I made you a shooter!" By now he was screaming, his voice thick with the pain that was overwhelming him.

"Oh, that’s how you see it, is it?" Angel snapped, holding his gaze. "Well, I’ve got news for you, buddy. From day one, I had you beaten. And you couldn’t take it. I was the only one who could challenge you. You had to control me, you had to break me down, destroy me bit by bit. So you told me where to sleep, what to eat, what to wear, who to train with, what to learn. You didn’t make me a shooter; I did. You were simply the means to an end."

Benoit glared at her furiously. "I made you, I took you in, I gave you…"

"Oh, give it a rest, Benoit," Angel cut in. "Don’t pretend like you care when we both know that’s not true." Her eyes were spilling over with angry tears, tears she couldn’t control.

"I don’t care?" Benoit screamed, right in her face again. "I don’t care? Is that what you think, Angel? Is that really what you think? Answer me, dammit. Answer me!"

But Angel couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even breathe. He’d called her Angel, called her by her first name. He was staring at her, so beautiful with his hair standing on end, his eyes red and filled with pain, breathing heavily, mouth open.

"I’ll show you how much I care," he growled, leaping forward. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply, desperately, at first just lips, but then he parted hers with his tongue, running it over her bottom lip before venturing into her mouth. His hands slid over her shoulders, down her arms to her hands. He entwined his fingers with hers, then brought her arms around so they were encircling his waist. He flinched slightly as they touched where the chair had hit him, but still he kissed her, feeling her melt in his arms as her own hands began to move, making circles on his bruised back. His hands were on her face, then on her shoulder blades, down her back, her sides, tracing the outline of her body, until they came to rest on her ass, pushing her into him, molding her body against his. She cried out involuntarily and he drew back, glaring at her.

"Did that hurt?" he demanded, eyes cold.

"Yes," she admitted, her emotions naked on her face, in her eyes. Those eyes. Those remarkable eyes.

He nodded coolly and suddenly grabbed her hair, wrenching her head back.

"How about this?" he snapped. "Does this hurt?"

"Yes!" she cried, hands flying to her head.

He released her with a violent shove. "Get out," he growled, voice low. "Get out. Get the hell out! Don’t look at me like that. Pick up your damn bags and get your ass out of my room! Get out! Now!"

But Angel just stood there, eyes filled with fear and confusion.

"Don’t you understand?" Benoit demanded, stepping over and grabbing her by the arm. "Don’t you get it?" He wrenched her arm behind her back until she cried out. "You’re free. I hurt you. You’re free. Now, get out! Get the hell out of my life! Now!" Still pinning her arm, he marched her over to the door, hurled it open and threw her into the hallway. Seconds later, her bags followed, clattering to a rest as he slammed the door and stormed around the room, wiping furiously at his eyes. "Get out!" he roared. "Get the hell out! Get out!" And then he lost his footing and fell to his knees as the pain engulfed him, roared inside his head, chewed maliciously at his brain. Agony. That was all.

* * * *

Angel clutched Jericho desperately, weeping uncontrollably, hardly even able to breathe. She couldn’t speak, not even close, but she was glad for that. If she could have spoken, she would have had to tell him the truth. That she loved Benoit, loved everything about him, from that evil smirk to his obsession with his chosen line of work, to his intensity and the incredible power that roared out of every inch of him. She loved it all. But Jericho had been right to start with. She could never have Benoit, not really, not how she wanted him. Never. That part of him belonged to his wife alone. Angel was just another of his little skanks, a nameless, faceless whore he used for release on the road. But he cared, he cared. No he didn’t. He hadn’t told her so. It was just a kiss. Just a kiss.

Jericho spoke softly, gently running his hands up and down her back as she wept on his shoulder. "It’s better this way, baby. The two of you weren’t good together. It wasn’t healthy."

"I know," Angel whispered. "I know, but…"

"No buts, baby. It’s over now. It’ll get better, I promise."

"He let me go," Angel murmured tearfully. "He let me go."

"I know he did," Jericho soothed her, though he didn’t get it. No one could possibly understand. No one.

"He…he…he called me Angel. He said my name." But by now she was sobbing uncontrollably and he couldn’t make out her words.

"Shh, Rogue, baby," he soothed, leading her to the bags so he could pick them up. "It’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay."

And Angel leaned against him, letting him support her, clinging at him tightly as they walked and music filled her ears.

‘And if the night runs over

And if the day won’t last

And if your way should falter

Along the stony pass

It’s just a moment

This time won’t last.’

THE END

*lyrics from "Stuck In A Moment You Can’t Get Out Of" by U2, used without permission