RACING THE RAIN

SMACKDOWN! JUNE 28TH, 2001

“You’re welcome, princess.”

He gave her one last smile, then turned and left the room.

“Oh my God!” Lita cried, but Angel didn’t hear her. She was too busy shoving the trainer’s hands off her and jumping to her feet. She didn’t know why she was doing this, being pretty sure it would only lead to trouble. But she had to do it. She had to. He was up ahead, carelessly tossing the tube of heat cream into a garbage can.

“Hey, Benoit!” she cried breathlessly.

He stopped and turned to her, a curious expression on his face.

Angel held his gaze as bolts of lust shot through her. Damn, she wanted him. “Why did you do that?” she asked at last. “Why did you help me?”

He gave a slight shrug, his neck muscles tightening and then relaxing as he swallowed once. His words, when he spoke, were quiet and clear and cut right through her. Right to her heart. “Because you needed me.”

Angel nodded, taking a small, tentative step towards him. “Well, thank you.”

“You already said that,” Benoit told her.

Angel took a deep breath. “Do you want me…” she gulped. “To do anything for you?”

Benoit frowned. “What do you mean?”

Angel pressed her lips together. What exactly did she mean? Hand job? Blow job? Quick root?

“You know, like helping you with…baby oil. I see you haven’t done it yet.”

Benoit raised his eyebrows. “You really want to do that?”

Angel blinked. “I should repay you. For what you did. Because it is a very, very big deal.”

Benoit nodded, considering this. “Fine,” he said at last, grabbing for her wrist. “Come with me.”

Angel’s heart was singing as he dragged her down the hallway. His hand was on her wrist. His firm, rough, strong hand. She wanted it to travel up her arm, then all over her body. But for now it was just his one hand, strong and powerful, on her wrist.

“Here.”

She was startled out of her daydream, as he waved a bottle of baby oil in her face. She frowned and took it clumsily as he sat sideways on a folding chair and quickly dragged his muscle top up over his head. Angel could do nothing but stare at him, practically gaping, as a slight moan escaped her lips. Damn, he was fine. Not even remotely good-looking in the traditional sense, of course, but screw the traditional sense. He was gorgeous and she was crazy about him.

“Make it quick,” Benoit said coldly. “I already wasted too much time saving your ass.”

Angel nodded brusquely and squeezed out a little of the oil into one palm, then rubbed her hands together, coating them both. She crouched slightly and reached for the area behind his shoulders. He flinched a little at her touch, but soon relaxed as she moved her hands in smooth strokes, firm but gentle, down his back. She could hear him breathing deeply, evenly and she tried to time her own breaths to keep pace with his, tried not to let them quicken too much. She didn’t trust herself to speak, not in the slightest. Finally she finished on his back and rose to her feet, trailing her hands back up to his shoulders. She stepped around him and dropped to her knees, squeezing out some more baby oil.

Benoit swallowed again and frowned down at her. “I can do it.”

“It’s okay,” Angel breathed, meeting his gaze for only a fraction of a second before concentrating on his stomach. His smooth, firm muscles tensed under her hands and she couldn’t restrain the quiet hums that came with every breath she took. What she wouldn’t give for her hands to be her mouth, to kiss him, to taste him. He smelled phenomenal and she ached for him, she absolutely ached for him.

“Benoit,” she breathed, before she could stop herself.

He sat, like most men did, with his legs open and she slipped further between them, closer to his chest, making slow, soothing circles. His eyes drifted closed and he let out a deep, relaxed sigh. Angel smiled at his reaction and pulled herself up his body, still massaging his chest. Her head bobbed around his as she took in the sight of him up close – the slight stubble on his face, the muscled perfection of his neck. She examined him carefully, more and more closely, as her head drifted closer to him, as if pulled by the warmth of his body.

The first time her lips brushed the side of his neck he didn’t seem to notice, running his tongue over first his top and then his bottom lip and swallowing deeply. Angel kissed him again, more firmly this time, then gently flicked her tongue out, caressing him, tasting him.

Suddenly, Benoit grabbed her by the arms and shoved her away, glaring deep into her eyes.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Angel could do nothing but stare at him as tears pricked her eyes. Tears of shame and humiliation, of devastation and fear, always so much fear.

“I…I…” she stammered, unable to complete her thought.

Benoit scowled, squeezing her arms just above the elbow. “Tell me what the hell you think you’re doing.”

Angel took a deep breath. “I was…”

“You were what?” Benoit demanded.

“Let me go,” Angel snapped, unable to think with his hands on her.

“Not a chance,” Benoit hissed. “Not until you tell me what your damn problem is.”

“Problem?”

“Tell me!”

“I love you!” Angel blurted.

Benoit reacted as if she’d slapped him, leaping back and shoving her away at the same time.

“What?”

Angel sighed and hung her head. “I love you,” she repeated. “I don’t care what you think anymore. I love you and I want to be with you.”

“I know.”

Her eyes darted up at his words and she found him staring at her intently. But that didn’t mean she could read him. Right when she needed to know what he was thinking, she got nothing.

“Do…do you love me?”

He stepped away from her, breaking into a low laugh. “Do I love you?” he echoed, pacing around a little. “Do I love you? Princess, why the hell would I love you?”

Angel was absolutely crushed. Tears filled her eyes and she ducked her head, refusing to let him see her cry. How could he? How could he do that to her? Right when she’d poured her heart out. What an asshole. What a heartless, insensitive…

And suddenly his lips were on hers. Just for a second, then they were gone. Her eyes flickered open in surprise and she almost jumped when she saw how close he was, right in her face. His intense blue eyes stared right through her, as enigmatic as ever.

“Do I love you?” he asked once more, and then he kissed her and the world fell away. At first he just pressed his lips softly against hers and it didn’t matter that she wanted more, it just about took her breath away. His mouth opened over hers and he gently sucked on her lower lip, making her moan a little. She reached for him as his tongue replaced his top lip, running over her bottom lip as her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. The tip of her tongue touched his and he responded, deepening the kiss. Their tongues played together, entwining slowly, carefully, as if it was the first time they’d ever kissed. And in a way it was. The first time they’d ever kissed like this. It was deep, it was tender, it was perfect. And, all too soon, it was over.

Breathing heavily, Angel opened her eyes to find Benoit staring back at her, equally breathless. He cocked his head slightly, asking her a silent question. She nodded rapidly and he broke into a smile, bringing his mouth towards hers again. She met his kiss forcefully, hungrily, their tongues touching, moving together, each caressing the other’s mouth. Angel held him tightly, pressing her chest against his, but it wasn’t enough; she wanted him closer. Never breaking the kiss, she hooked one leg around his body and he responded, lifting her gently by the hips so she could wrap her legs around him. His hands traveled around her waist in between their almost-fused bodies, over her bare stomach, up inside her shirt, separated from her skin only by the fabric of her bra. He cupped her breasts and kissed her frantically, his fingers trailing over her nipples as she held on for dear life and their bodies rubbed together, the friction driving them both out of their minds. One of her hands was slung across his shoulders, the other was buried in his hair, forcing their faces together, keeping them joined while only his strength kept them both upright. His hands were moving more haphazardly, tearing at the fabric of her shirt as he moaned into her mouth and his hips ground into her, making her gasp in delight. Suddenly, he tore his mouth away from her as he grabbed her tightly around the waist.

“Take your shirt off.”

She quickly dragged it over her head and he responded by kissing and sucking her neck and chest.

“Mmm,” she moaned. “Harder.”

Usually Benoit hated being told what to do, especially by a broad, but for some reason with her it was okay. Hell, it was more than okay. Her groans of pleasure were making him so hot as she shifted her legs around his waist, causing their bodies to rub together wildly. His teeth grazed her neck and his tongue still flicked out as he slid her bra straps down and started nibbling at her muscular shoulder – muscles he’d helped build.

“Mmm, yes,” she breathed, squeezing him with her legs and digging her fingers into his scalp, his shoulders. “I want you.”

He raised his head to look into her eyes and saw that they were dark with desire for him. “Soon,” he whispered, kissing her again. His tongue brushed the roof of her mouth, then tangled around hers, drawing it into his mouth where he could suck on it, just the way she liked.

‘Soon’ he’d said, although, to tell the truth, he was ready to go right now. What this girl could do to him with a simple touch, a little moan of pleasure. God, he wanted her.

“Princess,” he murmured into her mouth, hands traveling to her back.

She broke the kiss, trailing her lips over his face, his neck, back to his mouth. She wanted to kiss him everywhere, everywhere. Her hands slid down his body, caressing him, until they found his tights. She felt her way inside and he grunted a little at her touch, until she found what she was actually looking for – the drawstring. She pulled one end and it fell undone. Working the clasp of her bra with his fingers, he groaned his pleasure and lust and her hands explored inside his tights.

“Oh God, princess,” he moaned, lunging for her and dragging her in for a searing kiss, which left them both breathless. His tights were suddenly feeling exactly that. Very, very tight. He had to get free, it was killing him. She was killing him.

And just then there was a knock at the door.

“Mr. Benoit? Main event time.”

“Shit,” Benoit swore, unhooking Angel’s legs and placing her back on her feet. He picked up her shirt with a fluid swoop and handed it to her. “Here.”

“Thanks,” she replied breathlessly, watching with amusement as he fumbled with his drawstring, trying to tie it again. “You know, I can help you out with that if you want me to.”

“If I want you to,” he grunted, finally getting the string done up and tucking it into his tights. “I have to go.”

Angel just smirked as he frowned his discomfort and headed for the door. Suddenly, a terrifying thought filled her mind.

“Wait!” she screamed. “You can’t go!”

He stopped and turned back, stepping calmly over to her. He grabbed her by the front of the shirt and pulled her into him, kissing her forcefully. He ended the kiss by trailing his palms over her shoulders, down her arms, until he threaded his fingers through hers.

“Come be my valet.”

Angel was so surprised by this one simple gesture that she just walked by his side, out of the room and down the hallway. He held her hand loosely and focused straight ahead, as if daring someone to see them and comment. Angel’s heart just about exploded with joy.

‘He loves me!’ she thought, somehow managing to stop herself from swinging his hand and skipping like a six-year old. ‘He loves me!’

So why did she have that feeling in the pit of her stomach? A feeling that was different from the unfulfilled desire she was still experiencing. It was something darker, something sicker.

“I have a really bad feeling about this,” she said out loud.

Benoit stopped again, twisted her around and pulled her into his embrace. He held her there a moment, then drew back a little to stare deep into her eyes.

“Twenty minutes,” he told her quietly. “Half an hour, tops. Then the title will be mine.” He leaned forward to gently press his lips against her forehead, before taking her hand again as they continued up the hallway.

Angel allowed herself a small smile. She was absolutely crazy about him and just walking with him like this, holding his hand, just being with him was so right, so perfect. Still, she couldn’t shake that dark feeling of foreboding. Something bad was going to happen. She could just feel it. He’d never believe her, though; he’d tell her not to worry.

“We’re up first,” he said quietly as they reached the curtain.

‘Shooter’ started playing and they made their way down the ramp, still holding hands as the crowd popped them pretty big. Angel didn’t care how loud the cheers were. She was with Benoit. That’s all that mattered.

Benoit released her hand to climb into the ring, then sat on the middle rope, allowing Angel entry. It was the gentlemanly thing to do and entirely un-Benoit.

She grinned at him with the love she felt sparkling in her eyes as he grabbed both her hands and smiled right back. Oh, what the announcers were probably saying about Mr. Roboto Chris Benoit right now. He lifted his hands onto her shoulders and pulled her into him, so she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his and feeling his soft stubble tickle her face.

“I love you,” she whispered, right into his ear.

“Oh, Angel,” he murmured, squeezing her tightly, but before he could say anything more…

“J…J…J…” Jericho was arriving.

“I better go wait in your corner,” Angel said, pressing her palm against Benoit’s chest. He gave a little nod as Jericho made his way down the ramp. She reached up and touched Benoit’s face, turning his head towards hers and meeting it in an intense kiss. He kissed her back, just as hard, until he suddenly caught himself and broke away, giving her a surprised frown. Angel grinned and patted his cheek, then climbed out onto the apron as Jericho entered the ring.

He gave Benoit a skeptical look. “You better treat her right this time, junior.”

Benoit said nothing. He was waiting for Austin.

Angel just couldn’t get it out of her mind. ‘Something bad’s going to happen. Something bad’s going to happen.’ She just couldn’t shake it.

And just then, as breaking glass signaled the arrival of Stone Cold, she knew what it was.

“Chris!” she shrieked, voice piercing and terrified. “Benoit, please! You can’t be in this match. You’re going to break your neck!”

Benoit turned to her, wearing a confused frown. “My neck?” He approached her slowly, waiting for her to explain her concerns.

“You…you…” she stuttered, unable to get the words out.

“Hey,” he smiled, reaching over the ropes to pull her into his arms. “Take it slow.”

Angel took a deep breath, pressing her forehead against his muscular shoulder and letting the tears run down her face, dampening them both. She held him tightly, never wanting to let him go. She loved him so much. It was only a stupid wrestling match after all and surely, once she explained…

“You’re going to superplex Jericho,” she told him. “But you don’t hit it right. You land on your neck and…and…”

“What are you talking about?” Benoit frowned. She went to tell him again, but he cut her off with a quick kiss. “I have to go fight Austin now. You can tell me later.”

“No!” Angel cried, hooking her arms around him and refusing to let go. “No. Please. You can’t fight him. You’re going to get hurt and I…I…”

“Angel,” he sighed, dark blue eyes full of concern and confusion. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No!” Angel insisted, gripping him even tighter. “You’re going to get hurt. I love you. I need you. I can’t…I can’t… Benoit, I love you so much. I can’t live without you.”

“Shh, don’t worry about me,” he replied in his funny Canadian accent, making ‘about’ sound more like ‘aboot’. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, please,” Angel sobbed, clutching him desperately. “I love you. Please, Benoit. I love you. I…I love you.”

“It’s okay, Angel,” he was saying, trying to soothe her. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

She sobbed loudly, refusing to let him go. “I love you,” she said again, voice shaking. “I can’t…I don’t know what I’m going to do…without you. I love you…I love you.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here. It’s okay.”

Her loud crying obscured her words as she let him hold her, soothe her, tell her it was all going to be okay. Finally, she ventured to open her eyes and found that she was looking into a set of cool blue eyes as a low, soft voice with a heavy Canadian accent filled her ears. Only, they were the wrong blue eyes and the accent belonged to the wrong Canadian.

“Jerky?” she gasped, her entire being engulfed by disorientation.

“I got ya, baby,” he replied, one hand holding the back of her head and the other gently stroking her back. “You’re safe now.”

“What…what’s going on?” Angel asked in a small voice, brushing her tears away.

“You were having one hell of a nightmare,” Jericho told her as she struggled from his arms. “But it’s okay. It’s over now.”

“A nightmare,” Angel repeated with a frown as she perched on the side of the bed and swung her legs restlessly. “I don’t remember.”

Jericho gave a small sympathetic smile and handed her a Kleenex. “Just like Tuesday night, eh?”

“I don’t know,” Angel muttered, scrunching her face up against her renewed headache. “I just don’t know. What’s the time?”

“Six-ish,” Jericho replied, glancing at the clock.

“Cool,” Angel nodded, getting up. “I’m going to get dressed, then I’m going to the gym. You can join me if you like.”

“For getting dressed?” Jericho teased. “Baby, I’m there.”

“Pervert,” Angel grinned, tapping him lightly on the head. She dug through one of her cases for her clothes, then stepped into the bathroom.

Jericho watched her go, a frown on his face. She might have played out a quick recovery, but he knew for sure she wasn’t coping at all well. He was glad now he’d decided to room with her, and that he’d convinced her to go along with it. She hadn’t wanted to, using stupid ass independence masquerading as concern for cramping his style. Like he was actually getting any anyway. Chyna had rejected him, bitch. She was probably a lesbian now or something. She had been cheated on by Greasebag Guerrero, after all. Jericho didn’t mind too much, though, well he wasn’t heartbroken. Rogue had been right. It had been good just to figure it out. Chyna didn’t want him, hell, he could live with that. He was too good for her anyway, and that inter-chris-inental title they’d had to share a year and a half ago? It had been rightfully his. Everyone knew it. Oh well. Life went on. He was thirty and single. If he did get lucky…hell, not if, when, he was Y2J…anyway, he and Rogue had a deal. Respect. That’s where it was at. No cramping each other’s style. Not that there’d be any of that for a while. She was a wreck and he had no idea how to change that. He could try siccing Jeff Hardy on her again, but that’d probably only make things worse. If only that Helms kid was still around. Ha…kid. He was the same age as Matt Hardy. Twenty-six. He only looked like a kid. Helms had appeared from nowhere and was gone just as fast. It was too bad, really, because from what Jericho had seen, he was the anti-Benoit, even more so than Jeff. But Helms was gone and, frankly, despite the exciting emergence of his old coworkers Booker T and Diamond Dallas Page (and in DDP’s case “old” was definitely the operative word), it didn’t look like he was coming back.

“You coming?” called a voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he replied, forcing a smile to his lips. “I’ll be right there.”

‘And that’s the other thing,’ he thought, digging through his own clothes for a T-shirt and sweats – still the sexiest man on the planet. Rogue trained too hard. She had some crazy idea in her head about challenging X-Crap for his light loserweight title on SmackDown tonight. He knew for a fact that her head was still aching from her concussion and it didn’t matter how hard you trained – an injury was an injury. Concussions were the worst. They messed with your thought processes, messed with your equilibrium. One well-timed martial arts kick from X-Pac’s so-called educated feet could finish just about anyone. But a girl with a concussion? He’d have to talk her into an easier match – like one of those clowns from Kaientai, or none at all. Because she was a lot like Benoit. If he didn’t intervene she’d just keep thrashing herself and thrashing herself until her body completely gave out. He thought he’d actually taught Benoit to go a little easier. Obviously not. Now he had a year to think about what had happened and Rogue was an absolute wreck. It was a mess, a big old mamma-jammer of a mess. Jericho sighed and looked up at the roof.

“But everything works out in the end, right, big guy? It’s all in your plan, all in your plan.”

Still, he couldn’t help thinking that just maybe those plans were written in gibberish. Indecipherable by all but a select few.

“What I wouldn’t give for that dictionary,” Jericho muttered, closing the door and starting for the gym. “That’d be one good thing to own.”

* * * *

Angel sat on a beach chair at the hotel pool, staring out at the rain pouring down from the charcoal grey sky. It was funny that it could be so wild and stormy outside and so warm and cozy inside. Not that she really had any desire to go for a swim. She was wearing three-quarter length cargo pants and a tank top, her shoes and socks piled neatly under her chair, and she had her face pressed against her thighs so that she could just peer over the tops of her knees. She was just watching the rain – the cold, miserable, driving rain.

“Beautiful day, huh?” called a voice as another chair scraped up to join hers

“Right,” Angel muttered, resting her head on her cousin’s shoulder. “Real beautiful.”

“I’m serious,” Lita told her. “I love the rain, especially in New York.”

“Rain is cold,” Angel murmured. “Rain is gloomy. Rain is depressing. Rain is…”

“Beautiful,” Lita cut in, hazel brown eyes shining. “I mean, look out there, Ange. New York’s an ugly city. It is, you know. So much dirt and smog and tragedy.”

“Tragedy?” Angel echoed.

“You know. Homeless people, stray dogs, crime, rape.”

“Oh, okay,” Angel replied thoughtfully.

“But then it starts to rain,” Lita went on. “And all that dirt and smog washes away. The rain cleanses the whole city until it sparkles and then, even if it’s just for a moment, it’s a beautiful place to be.”

“There’s still homeless people, Li,” Angel told her quietly.

“I know, but when it rains, the city isn’t so hard on them. They’re allowed to hole up in doorways and other shelters until the storm blows over.”

“Is that true?” Angel asked.

“I don’t know, but it seems that way. I’ve never seen a homeless person in a rainstorm. Have you?”

“Nope,” Angel shrugged. But then again she hadn’t seen all that many homeless people at all.

“So you see, Ange. The rain cleans everything away and makes it new again. Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Angel whispered, lifted her head to get a better look outside. “Wouldn’t it be nice…”

“If it could rain on us?” Lita suggested.

“Yeah,” Angel said again. “Sometimes you do something stupid, something wrong, and it doesn’t matter how you try to clean yourself, how much soap you use. Nothing can make you clean again.”

Lita frowned. “What are you talking about, Ange?”

“The rain,” Angel replied quietly. “Like you said, it washes the city clean. Why can’t it wash us clean, too? Because you remember when we were kids and we used to play outside in a rainstorm until our parents saw us and screamed for us to go inside? Sometimes we got so muddy there were little brown spots all over us, from head to toe. The rain might wash the city clean, but if anything, for people it just makes us dirtier. It just doesn’t work. The dirt and smog and tragedy’s still there, only caked under a layer of mud.”

Lita gave a nervous laugh. “I was talking metaphors, Ange.”

“I know,” Angel replied bitterly. “So was I.”

Lita frowned and turned to face her younger cousin. “Are you okay, Ange?”

Angel stared back at Lita, eyes shiny with tears that threatened to spill over. “Nope.” She took a deep breath. “But I’ve got a contract so at least now I’ve got a release for my not okay-ness.”

Lita nodded. “You know, if there’s anything you need, or if you just want to talk, I’m always here for you.”

Angel gave a humorless little laugh. “Thanks, Li. But I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Lita continued her slow nod. “You know, as much as I love Jeff, it’s your happiness that’s important to me. I don’t want you ever thinking that I’m pushing you together if that’s not what you want, okay?”

“It’s not what I want,” Angel told her. “But it’s not just Jeff. I don’t want anyone. I just want…” She cut off for a minute.

‘I just want to be on my own. What you and Jerky fail to realize is that you’re not the rain. You can’t heal me. You can’t wash away my dirt. It’s just going to stay with me forever, make me cold, like the storm, until it sucks all the life out of me. Then I’ll be empty. Then I’ll be a true shooter. No one will be able to stop me.’

“I just want to be alone for a while, okay?” she said out loud.

“Okay,” Lita nodded, putting an arm around her cousin. “But remember, if you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Yeah,” Angel replied. “You know, all this talk of water and washing? I think I’m gonna go for a swim.”

Without waiting for Lita’s response, she stripped down to her bikini and dove into the cool, clear water of the hotel swimming pool. She swam laps, staying under as long as she could between breaths. At least underwater, with the density of it pressurizing her ears, the only things she had to argue with were her own inner demons. She’d love for the water to wash her dirt and pain away. But she also knew the truth. Nothing ever would.

* * * *

Angel didn’t know how long she’d been swimming. Her arms and legs were like jello, aching jello, but still she propelled herself forward, executed a clumsy tumble turn and continued on her way. She knew she’d have to stop soon, before her limbs gave out, but there was something about being underwater. She was light, she was free. Nothing could touch her here. Even her demons had floated away. Diffusion, it was called. She vaguely remembered from biology class. Substances in water travel from the area of higher concentration to the area of lower concentration until they balance out. Angel wasn’t exactly balanced yet, but she sure was trying.

Suddenly, an obstruction appeared in front of her and, startled, she tried to change course, flailing wildly until she finally broke the surface, gasping for air.

“Jerky!” she cried breathlessly as he mopped his wet face with a towel. “What the hell did you do that for?”

Jericho grinned, perching himself on the side of the pool. “I just wanted to know if you’ll be coming out any time soon.”

Angel sighed. “Yeah, I think I’m done.” She pushed herself up out of the water. “How’d you find me, anyway?”

Jericho handed her a towel, admiring the way the water glistened in rivulets on her smooth skin. She sure did have one hell of a body. Now, if only he could find her a guy who’d appreciate that. “I ran into your cousin and she told me she’d seen you here a while ago, so I figured you might still be here.”

Angel nodded, wiping her face. “I was trying to race the rain.”

He didn’t really understand what she meant, but he did sneak a small glance outside. “Well, looks like you beat it.”

“What?” Angel frowned, following his gaze.

Sure enough, the rain had stopped. Lita was absolutely right. The soaked buildings shimmered, an almost crystalline silver illuminated by the bright summer sunshine. Soon it would be dry, and heavy layers of dirt and smog would lie like a blanket, choking it of its former beauty. But for now, it was remarkable. It reminded her of Benoit, a thought that hit her right between the eyes, right in the stomach, right in her heart. Ugly most of the time, but you only had to look below the surface into those glorious blue eyes to see him as he was. Gorgeous beyond belief. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t like the pretty boy wrasslers all the teenage ring-rats fawned over – Test, Edge and Christian, Matt and Jeff, Jericho. It didn’t matter in the slightest. He was magnificent. And now Angel knew it, it wouldn’t let her go. It wouldn’t give her a moment of peace. Suddenly, the cravings hit her like never before. She longed for the sound of his voice, his laugh, the feel of his rough, callused hands on her naked flesh, his strong, powerful legs, his clever hips, his skillful tongue, his…

“I can’t believe how nice it is out there now,” Jericho was saying.

Angel nodded. It was nice. It was beautiful. But all too soon it would be gone. Benoit was gone.

“You hungry, baby?” Jericho asked as she buried her face in her towel and slid it slowly upwards, drying her face, her eyes and then her hair. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly and unflatteringly.

“Famished.”

“Well,” Jericho grinned, blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Let’s go eat.”

Angel nodded at him, then looked down at her practically naked body. “You think they’ll let me in the restaurant like this?”

“That depends,” Jericho replied carefully. “On whether you intend eating at a table or dancing on it.”

“Whatever pays the bills,” Angel grinned, stepping over to her clothes and pulling on her cargo pants. “There. Now I’m ready for the wrestling ring,” she joked, before putting her stretchy, somewhat shimmery tank top on over her bikini.

“Perfect,” Jericho nodded as she finished up with her shoes and socks. “Now you only smell like chlorine.”

“Careful,” Angel replied, stepping up to him and giving him a little shove. He flailed his hands wildly and just managed to keep his balance, narrowly avoiding tumbling backwards into the pool. “Or I won’t be the only one.”

Jericho favored her with a sarcastic smile and placed a friendly hand on her back. “Okay, Rogue, baby. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

* * * *

“Question,” Jericho said, his mouth still partially full of food. Angel wasn’t overly grossed out. Her brother Matt (or Teo, as they called him at home) was often too busy talking during mealtimes to remember to swallow. Teo sold cars for a living but really wanted to work in radio. Last thing Angel had heard he’d gotten himself a gig driving around one of those roving radio cars on weekends, handing out movie tickets and cans of soft drink to listeners. Which reminded her, she should be listening to Jericho.
“Uh huh?” she asked after swallowing.

“How would you feel about leaving the divas and joining me in the cesspool I call a locker room?”

“Geez, Jerky,” Angel grinned. “I eat with you, I sleep with you, I train with you. Now you’re asking me to share a locker room with you? Anyone would think you wanted me.”

“Oh, but I do want you, Rogue,” Jericho replied seriously. “To share a locker room with me. It’ll be good. Now Benoit’s gone, I kinda feel stupid using a multiperson locker room for just me.”

“That’s Benoit’s fault,” Angel informed him, reaching for her glass of water. “He used to kick all the jobbers out before dinner and I guess they eventually just got used to staying away.”

“Ah,” Jericho nodded. “So that’s why there’s always so many lowcarders in catering. Actually, between you and me, I’d go the vegetarian dishes at the arenas. Haven’t you ever wondered what happened to the Mean Street Posse?”

“No, but I haven’t seen Lo Down in awhile,” Angel replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“Where jobbers go to die,” Jericho stated mysteriously, before breaking into a grin. “But seriously, baby. You wanna share with me?”

“Why not?” Angel nodded. “I share everything else with you, after all. But let me give you prior warning. When I get a boyfriend, you keep your damn hands off him.”

“I’ll try,” Jericho told her as sincerely as possible. Rogue was talking about getting a boyfriend? That was promising.

They fell into silence, concentrating on their meals again. Angel watched Jericho. It was amazing how different he was to Benoit. They may have shared hair and eye color, body weight, home country, a love of ice hockey and similar career histories, but really, that was where the similarities ended. Even when eating they were opposites. Jericho ate carelessly, as if thinking about something else, shoving food into his mouth with abandon, using his knife as a matter of annoying necessity to make chunks of food just small enough to shove into his mouth. Then he chewed just often enough to get the food down and started over. Every now and then he’d stop whatever he was doing and speak animatedly about anything that was on his mind, as if waiting long enough to swallow or take a drink would force the thought out of his head. He and Benoit were like chalk and cheese.

Dinner with Benoit was practically silent, except for the occasional “Hurry up and eat your damn food” or instructions for the night ahead if they had a show. With eating, like with a lot of things, Benoit was borderline obsessive-compulsive. He took great lengths to make sure none of his food portions touched on his plate and Angel often found great joy in sliding them together just to see how pissed off he got. He’d cut his meat and vegetables into pieces of uniform size and shape, then eat one piece from each portion in turn, always in a clockwise direction. He’d chew exactly ten times before swallowing and would wash it down with a sip of water before starting again. It never failed and now, looking at Jericho, it really had been quite comforting. The intensity of this sudden loss of order, loss of control, startled Angel and she peered down frantically, checking to see whether or not the portions of food on her plate were touching. They weren’t and she let out a huge sigh of relief, touching her fork to her food again.

“Something wrong, baby?” Jericho frowned.

“No,” she shrugged, twisting her fork around restlessly. “Just thinking.”

‘No prizes for guessing what about,’ Jericho thought, taking notice of her tone and the look in her eyes. He decided to get her mind off it, or rather him, by asking her something else. “Are you really gonna challenge Paccy tonight?”

“Yup,” Angel nodded. “I promised Jeff first title shot, so now I've actually got to win it.”

Jericho sighed. “Tell me honestly. Does your head still hurt?”

“A little,” she admitted. “But don’t worry about it. I’ll just take some aspirin before I head out.”

‘What, a whole bottle?’ Jericho wondered, before voicing his concerns. “I’m worried about you, Rogue. Maybe you should take a break tonight.”

“You’re not my dad,” Angel shrugged, picking up some more food.

“No, but I am your friend and I’m telling you not to go out there with a head injury, especially against someone like X-Spac. The crowd might think he sucks, but he’s not to be taken lightly.”

Angel shrugged again. “You fought Edge when you were concussed,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, I got hit in the head again and as a result I have no memory of that night.”

“Really?” Angel asked, suddenly nervous.

“Oh, I know what happened,” Jericho assured her. “I asked you to be my tag partner and entered us in tag team turmoil. I just don’t remember doing it.”

Angel swallowed. “You mean you didn’t really want me as your tag partner?” she asked in a small voice.

Jericho almost cursed himself. He’d gone from trying to protect her to planting the seeds of self-doubt. If you doubted your abilities as a wrestler, you may as well give it up, because you’d never get anywhere.

“Of course I wanted you. It was my idea to handicap Benny, remember?”

Angel nodded. That was true.

“Anyway, I’m not saying you suck,” Jericho went on. “I’m not saying you can’t beat Paccy. I’m just saying you should take a break tonight, come be in my corner…”

“No,” Angel cut in. “I don’t valet anymore. Not for you, not for anyone.”

“Okay,” Jericho muttered, startled by her intensity. He thought on his feet, trying to work his way out of this. “I don’t mean you joining me as a valet. I mean you joining me as a bodyguard.”

“A what?” Angel cried, aghast.

“A bodyguard,” Jericho repeated. “Like Chyna used to be for Hunter. I know you idolize her, so this way you can start out like she did.”

Angel was eyeing him skeptically. “What would you want with a hundred and fifty pound bodyguard?”

Jericho raised his eyebrows. “When that hundred and fifty pounds fights like you do, I can’t think of anyone better.”

Angel shook her head, still unconvinced. “What would you want me to do?”

“Go with me to the ring and try to keep anyone who might want to interfere away. Hang out with me backstage and make sure no one jumps me. Standard bodyguard stuff. And in return, I’ll pay for our room tonight.”

But Angel was still skeptical. “You really want me to be your bodyguard?”

“Baby, don’t you get it?” Jericho asked insistently, before breaking into song. “I…ee…I will always love you!”

Angel laughed. “Okay, Jerky. You’ve convinced me. I’ll think about it.”

Jericho’s smile faded. “You’ll think about it?”

“Yeah,” Angel confirmed. “I’m gonna go ask Regal for a match with X-Pac, but chances are he won’t even agree to it, just because he loves me so dang much. If I can’t get X-Pac, I’ll be your bodyguard.”

Jericho let out a frustrated sigh. Well, that plan had fallen through. Now all he had to hope for was Commissioner Assclown refusing to give Rogue her match.

“Great,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “It’s a deal, then.”

“Yes, Whitney Houston,” Angel grinned back. “It’s a deal.”

* * * *

“It’s right over here,” Angel announced, leading Jericho into the locker room.

Jericho nodded. “Excuse me, ladies. Don’t mind me, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“That long, huh, Chris?” quipped Chyna.

“Blow me, Chyna,” Jericho snapped, refusing to look at her as he stormed over to the punching bag.

“What’s going on, green?” Jackie questioned. “You giving up already? Not tough enough after all?”

“Nope,” Angel replied, holding the bag steady as Jericho undid the fastening. “Just moving house.”

Jackie grinned and looked Jericho up and down. “Half your luck, green thang. Guess I’ll be seeing you round.” She busied herself by digging a stripy tank top from her bag. “Now this is what being a diva’s all about.” And with that she started changing, right in front of Jericho, who somehow didn’t notice. He was too caught up in trying to get the punching bag free.

“Who strung this thing up, baby?”

“I don’t know,” Angel shrugged, frowning up at him. “Interns, usually.”

“Interns,” Jericho sighed. “Vinnie’s excuse to pay a few kids next to nothing. And if there’s one thing that’s the truth it’s if you pay peanuts, you get monkeys.”

But Angel didn’t hear that last part. Someone had just walked into the room.

“Hi everyone!”

Angel’s hands slipped off the punching bag as she ran at the person who’d just entered, grabbed her by the throat and slammed her back against the wall.

“Angel?” she gasped, hazel eyes full of fear and confusion.

“You listen to me, you little slut,” Angel spat, tightening her grip with every word. “If you ever and I mean ever cross my cousin again, I will end you. Is that clear?”

Trish nodded rapidly and Angel finally released her with one last shove.

“You done yet, Jerky?” she asked evenly, turning to him. Suddenly she felt something on her back and spun around as Trish screamed piercingly into her ear. Angel reached back, grabbed Trish and tried to flip her over, but Trish caught hold of her arms and in a few seconds they were scrambling on the ground – Trish with random bites, kicks and scratches and Angel with stinging rights to Trish’s throat that made her gag. Before Jericho even really knew what was going on, the battle was over as Jackie grabbed Angel while Chyna held Trish back. Really, it should have been the other way around, but just try telling that to Jackie.

“That ain’t cool, green,” she scolded, continuing to drag Angel to the other end of the room. “It ain’t cool at all.”

Angel ignored her. “You wanna fight me, Stratus?” she screamed. “Just try it. I’ll destroy you!”

“God, Angel,” Trish cried, trying unsuccessfully to break away from Chyna. “Just because you screwed Chris Benoit, doesn’t mean you have to steal his personality.”

That did it for Angel. She let out a furious roar, disposed of Jackie with a single shove and leaped over onto Trish, punching her furiously. This time it took Chyna and Jericho to separate them. Jericho quickly put Angel over his shoulder, grabbing for the punching bag with his other hand and carrying them both into the hallway.

“Let me go!” she cried. “Let me go!”

“Not until you calm down,” Jericho replied, his tone warning.

“I’m going to kill her!” Angel continued. “I’m going to tear off her arms and shove them down her throat!”

“Calm down!” Jericho snapped.

“You’re right,” Angel scowled, causing Jericho to let out a huge sigh and start to set her down. “Forget her throat, I’m gonna shove them up her big fat ass!”

“Okay,” Jericho muttered, throwing the punching bag aside and grabbing her with both hands, forcing her against the wall in the hallway and glaring at her intently. “You calm down and you calm down now.”

Angel’s lower lip trembled violently. She was on the verge of tears. She held his gaze for a few seconds before shrugging her shoulders back furiously and storming down the hallway towards their locker room. She threw the door open and stomped over to the bench, before turning to wait for Jericho, eyes blazing.

“Can you put my bag up, please?” she asked evenly, swinging her arms around her body.

Jericho frowned at her for a moment before getting to work. If she didn’t want to talk about it, he sure wasn’t gonna get her started.

“How could she say that, Jerky?” Angel asked suddenly, voice catching in her throat. “In front of all those people. How could she?”

Jericho sighed and set the bag down on the floor, then shuffled his feet a little, trying to ignore how devastated she looked. “In Trish’s defense, she did speak the truth.”

“So?” Angel asked tearfully. “Everyone was there. Molly, Terri, Jackie…Chyna. How can I ever look them in the eye again, knowing that they know what I did?”

“You know,” Jericho told her. “If you hadn’t reacted like you did you wouldn’t even have to worry, because everyone would have thought it was just Trish being a bitch.”

“Fat lot of good that does me now,” Angel muttered, wiping her eyes.

Jericho slowly shook his head. “What are we going to do with you, eh?”

“I don’t know,” Angel shrugged tearfully. “I’m so messed up right now. I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. I mean, I attacked Trish Stratus and she’s been nothing but sweet to me. It wasn’t even my fight, you know? It was Lita’s. So, what was I thinking? I’m such a psycho bitch.”

“Ya think?” Jericho joked, grin plastered across his face. He took a seat next to her and placed a comforting hand on her leg.

“What am I going to do, Jerky?” Angel asked miserably, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, baby. It’ll blow over. Trish’ll be cool. She knows what you’re going through, even if she does feel the need to tell the entire world.”

“Huh,” Angel scoffed humorlessly. “I just…I don’t get me sometimes. It’s like all I care about anymore is Benoit and proving how good a fighter I am. I do all these stupid things that just make me out to be some bully heel, and I’m not a heel, Jerky. I’m not.”

“I know you’re not,” Jericho told her. “You’re just messed up, like you said.”

“That’s no excuse,” Angel whispered. “It’s like I have only two moods – anger and regret, and they come in waves. I’m either angry, or I’m regretful, and you’re right, you know. I do keep on hurting people who really do care about me, right when I…when I need you the most. First it was you, and now Trish. I even…I nearly broke Lita’s arm at King of the Ring. I was just so mad at her, you know? And I don’t even know why, because she hadn’t done anything wrong. I don’t know what I’d do if…if I fought with Lita again. Not after last time. I can’t go through that again. I just can’t.”

Jericho nodded, gently rubbing his hand up and down her outer arm. “What about Trish?” he asked gently.

“Trish,” Angel repeated, letting out a little humorless laugh. “I fucked up, Jerky. I fucked up royally. I knew she was weaker than me, so I took her out, just so I could feel special. Only I don’t feel special. I feel like shit. And you know why? Because I am shit. I’m total shit.”

Just then there was an insistent knock at the door. Jericho slowly rose to his feet, giving her a small sympathetic frown.

He opened the door and there stood Trish Stratus, looking haughty as all hell.

“Is Angel here?” she demanded, flipping her hair and tapping her foot impatiently.

“Yeah, but…”

Trish cut him off with a delicate wave of her hand. “Chris, don’t start with me.” She breezed into the room, setting her gaze on Angel, who looked up coolly, despite the tears still shining in her eyes. “Now, first of all. On Monday, the Big Show offered me a trip to Europe if I’d be his valet against Matt Hardy. I said yes ‘cause, hello? Free trip to Europe.”

“Nothing like selling yourself, Trish,” Angel muttered and immediately regretted it.

“Would you let me finish?” Trish snapped. “Thank you. So, anyway, yes, I went to the ring with him, as his valet, and then yes, I did kiss Matt, because you know what? That’s what I do when I valet. I have to help my man somehow, and no, I can’t do flips and kicks like you can, so I have to look to what I know, and that’s my tits and ass, Angel. It’s my sex appeal. This is the way I fight men and I make no apology for it. There, I’m done.”

“Yeah?” Angel asked testily. “Then maybe you should actually learn to wrestle. Ever thought of that?”

“I tried!” Trish insisted. “But I can never find someone to teach me. I’ve asked everyone and they either laugh in my face or just wanna have sex with me. I mean, what kind of wrestling do they think I mean?”

Angel blinked. “You really want to learn to fight?”

“Of course!” Trish cried. “When I see what you can do, and how everyone reacts, of course I want to learn. And did you know, that when I’m talking about being a serious wrestler, you’re the only one who takes me seriously? That match against Ivory? You didn’t laugh at me when I said I had to beat her and you taught me stuff, stuff I’d seen other people do but I’d never learned, because people always thought I was just there to look good. And I resent them thinking that. Because I have a brain and I’m fit and I know I can wrestle, I just need to be shown how to do stuff. Is that really so much to ask?”

“No, it’s not,” Angel confirmed, expression still cool. “And if you want, I’ll teach you a few more things. And I am sorry I attacked you…the first time.”

“The first time?” Trish echoed as Jericho let out an exasperated sigh.

“I trusted you, Trish,” Angel said quietly. “I trusted you with stuff I never even told Lita. I thought I could count on you to keep it between us.” None of the three of them saw the door open.

Trish bit on her lip, then pouted. “You only didn’t tell Lita because you didn’t want Jeff to know.”

“That’s not…Jeff!” Angel cried, startled by his sudden presence.

“Didn’t want me to know what?” Jeff asked curiously.

Angel and Trish stared at each other, absolutely dumbfounded, so it was up to Jericho to save the day.

“She didn’t want to tell you that if you hadn’t lost your title on Monday she would’ve challenged you for it on SmackDown tonight.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up. “So you were just going to spring it on me, huh, Angel? That’s okay, I guess. Any advantage you can get. Anyway, that’s a bit of coincidence, ‘cause I just came by to tell you that you’re free to fight X-Pac tonight because me and Matt have a tag title shot. It’s an elimination table match but hey, it’s a title shot.”

Angel gave a crisp nod. “Well, good luck, Jeff. And thanks for letting me know.”

“Hey, no problem,” Jeff smiled. “Even though you’re not the easiest person to track down. I tried the women’s locker room first, but they sent me here.”

Angel shot a deadly glare at Trish before responding. “Yeah, I’m Jerky’s bodyguard now.”

Jeff frowned his interest. “You’re…you’re what?”

“His bodyguard,” Angel repeated, unwilling to explain something she herself wasn’t entirely sure of.

“Yeah, you know, junior,” Jericho added. “Whitney Houston, Kevin Costner, bad songs, worse movie.”

“I remember it,” Jeff told him, before turning back to Angel. “Well, I just wanted to let you know, anyway. Good luck, okay?” He gave her one last smile and reached down to touch her face before he turned to leave. “See you round, Chris.”

“Bye, junior.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Trish turned to it in shock. “Did he just completely ignore me?”

Jericho’s eyebrows shot up. “You can’t be surprised to hear you’re not the most popular female in Hardy town right now.”

“Still,” Trish shrugged. “That was just rude.” She turned back to Angel, her expression uneasy again. “So, are we cool or whatever?”

Angel scowled at her. “Great, Trish. Jeff goes to look for me in the women’s locker room just after you spouted out. That’s great.”

“No one would have said anything,” Trish insisted. “I told them I just knew that’d piss you off because you hate Chris Benoit so much, so now that’s all they think. I fixed it.” She stared at Angel with a hopeful grin, but Angel just sighed.

“That hurt, Trish. I mean, I know it’s mostly true, but it really hurt that you’d use it against me.”

“Well, you hit me first!” Trish protested.

“I know, and that was stupid, but listen. The two of you especially have to know the weird place I’m in right now. To tell you the truth, I’ve never felt more vulnerable in my entire life, and I don’t mean physically, I mean in my mind. I’m really fucked up and it doesn’t take much to completely knock me for six.”

“Six what?” Trish frowned.

“Oh, sorry. Australianism. What I’m saying is…I know I might not be much fun right now, but please, you guys. All I really need to know is can I count on you?”

“Posalutely,” Jericho confirmed.

Trish took a little longer. “You’re not gonna hit me again, are you? ‘Cause, you know, I completely had to do all my makeup again. You know my cheek hurts? If I get a bruise I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Okay, Trish,” Angel nodded. “Here’s what I want. You stick by me and I’ll stick by you. Is that cool?”

“Okay, Angel. That’s okay by me.”

“Good,” Angel nodded. “Then we’re cool.”

Trish broke into a grin. “Fantastic. Oh, but listen, Angel. I have to go. I got word that Show’s looking for me and I really don’t want to have to deal with that again today, so I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later, maybe we can go get a drink or something.”

“See you, Trish,” Angel nodded, watching as the smaller blonde darted out of the room, taking a quick look up and down the hallway before she actually left.

“Dizzy blondes, eh?” Jericho grinned.

“You can talk,” Angel shot back, getting to her feet. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Where you going?” Jericho frowned.

“Regal’s office. Jeff more or less just told me I’m getting my title shot.”

“But you told him you were gonna be my bodyguard!” Jericho protested.

Angel nodded. “No reason I can’t do both. Catch ya, Jerky.”

“Hold on, baby. Can’t you at least help me put this bag up? I mean, it is yours, after all.”

Angel slowly broke into s smile. “Sure. I can do that.”

“Perfect,” Jericho sighed. He’d just bought himself some time.

* * * *

Regal and Tajiri were discussing ways of punishing Jericho. Apparently, Regal had accidentally been on the receiving end of Tajiri’s green mist attack at Raw and, three days later, still couldn’t get it off his face.
Suddenly, Tajiri let out a terrified cry. Jericho and Angel had arrived.

“You wanna punish me?” Jericho asked. “Punish me. It’s not as though I haven’t beaten everyone you’ve tried to put against me.”

“You will be punished, my boy,” Regal smirked, before muttering as an aside, “I’ve just got to bloody work out how.”

“Well, while you ponder that,” Angel told him, having heard every word he’d said. “Maybe you can book my match.”

Regal raised his eyebrows. “You…want a match?”

“Yep, and I’m not gonna take any of your crap about not being contracted because I’m as much a superstar as you are, buddy.”

“Okay, my girl,” Regal sighed. “What do you want?”

“A light heavyweight title match against X-Pac.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Regal said smoothly, voice oozing with sarcasm. “But Mr. Pac is already signed tonight. He and his old D-Generation X teammate, ‘the One’ Billy Gunn will be taking on your old friends Edge and Christian, so I’m sorry, Miss Torres, but you’re going to have to wait your turn.”

Angel gave a calm nod. Oh well, that freed her up for bodyguard duties. “Okay then. Book it for Heat.”

“I beg your pardon,” Regal frowned.

“The title match. Book it for Heat.”

“With all due respect, Miss Torres,” Regal started, again sarcastically. “You have never taken part in a light heavyweight match before. What makes you believe you deserve a title match?”

“I’d never been in a hardcore match but I managed to win that title,” Angel argued.

“Yes, and we all know how far that got you,” Regal pointed out. “You really want to fight men?”

“Men in the light heavyweight division, yes.”

“Okay, Miss Torres, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Since you have your heart set on wrestling on Heat, I’ll book you for a number one contender’s match. The winner of that match will face X-Pac next week. Is that alright with you?”

“Number one contender’s match?” Angel frowned. “Hey, that’s fine with me.”

“Brilliant. Now, Mr. Jericho. There is the certain matter of your punishment.”

“Here’s an idea,” Jericho grinned, leaning over on Regal’s desk. “Why don’t you do it…yourself? And since I’ve already beaten the both of you in singles matches, why don’t you and your little buddy Tajunior take on Y2J tonight in a tag team match, right here, on SmackDown?” He punctuated his words by picking up one of Regal’s pens and dropping it in the teapot.

“Talk some sense, man!” Regal argued. “Your tag team partner Chris Benoit’s out of action for six months. Who are you going to get to partner you in New York City? The Phantom of the Opera?” He and Tajiri broke into laughter as if that was the funniest thing anyone had ever said.

Jericho joined in their laughter with a fake one of his own. “Oh yeah. Well, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll find someone.”

“You don’t have to find someone, because I’ve just assigned you a partner,” Regal announced smoothly. “Since you and Miss Torres are obviously very close, really, you would have to be the perfect team.” He grinned evilly. “That’s right, Chris Jericho. Your tag team partner tonight is nothing but a little girl.”

Jericho nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, and so’s Tajunior’s so at least the teams are even now. Or wait, no they’re not. You do know who this girl is, don’t you, assclown?”

Regal glared at him. “I am quite aware.”

“Well, then you know it really doesn’t matter that Benny’s on the shelf, because Rogue here is his protégé. She fights like him, she thinks like him and she has about as much compassion for you as he does. See you in our match tonight. Oh, and Willie?” he added as Regal put his cup to his lips. “Enjoy your tea.”

He put his arm around Angel and led her from the room as Regal, remembering how Jericho had once besmirched his tea, spat the warm liquid across the desk.

“I love that guy,” Jericho laughed as they made their way back to the locker room.

“Did you really piss in his tea again?” Angel asked, sick to her stomach but still amused at the thought.

“No, but he doesn’t know that,” Jericho grinned. “Besides, I pride myself on unequivocal spontaneity, after deciding in an interview with that jerky Mitchell Cole when I called myself the baddest mamma jammer in the WWF for the umpteenth time that I would never…ever be repetitive again.”

Angel’s eyebrows shot up. “Right, Jerky,” she grinned, patting his hand. “Whatever you say. But anyway, why did you let him do that? I thought you didn’t want me to fight tonight.”

“Well, there’s no point arguing with a Regal decree,” Jericho shrugged. “Have you taken your aspirin yet?”

“Before we left the hotel,” Angel confirmed. “So hopefully it should kick in soon.”

“Yikes,” Jericho muttered. They’d left the hotel almost three hours ago. Oh well. Just because Rogue was his partner in the match, didn’t mean he had to tag her in. He could take on the two jackasses on his own, no problem.

They reached the locker room and Angel immediately started rifling through her bag until she found her ‘Shooter’ top. She pulled it out, eyeing it with a frown.

“Did you know this is like the seventh or eighth show in a row I’ve worn this thing?”

“So wear something else,” Jericho replied, pulling off his Y2J soccer jersey.

“I would if I had anything to wear,” Angel muttered, frowning at the sad shambles that was her wrestling clothes situation. “My tube top no longer exists and I can’t exactly wear the ‘Crippler’ tank. The Hardy Boyz top seems equally inappropriate and everything else is either too daggy or way too big.”

“So wear that other one I got you,” Jericho suggested. “That red one.”

“This?” Angel frowned, pulling out the halter-top.

“Sure,” Jericho nodded. “You look hot in it. Put it on and feel safe in the knowledge that you look like a babe.”

“Come on, Jerky,” Angel sighed. “It was fine when I was just a valet, but it’s not exactly practical for wrestling.”

Jericho shrugged. “Practical schmactical. You fight in leather pants and you use more hair product than a small country and you wanna talk to me about practical? Put it on and feel good about yourself.”

“Alright,” Angel conceded. “But if it falls off, I get to pants you, underwear and all.”

“What makes you think I wear underwear?” Jericho teased, eyebrows waggling.

“Jerky, you have VPL,” Angel told him, picking up the halter top and carrying it over to the screen they’d had put in.

“What in the hell’s VPL?” Jericho asked.

“Visible panty line.”

“Shit. Really?” Jericho frowned at the mirror, examining his reflection from all angles as Angel laughed at him from behind the screen.

“Okay, it’s semi-on. Can you help tie me in?” Angel emerged from behind the screen, holding the front of her top with one hand and the strings with the other.

“Sure, baby,” Jericho nodded. “Wow, they sure didn’t make this easy, did they?” he muttered, fumbling with the strings and finally getting them tied. “There you go, baby. Just like a punching bag.”

“Tall, stocky and shapeless?” Angel grinned, turning to face him.

Jericho looked her up and down. “You’re anything but shapeless, baby. In fact, I’ll even say you’re just hot enough to make the grade as my tag team partner.”

“Why, thank you,” Angel replied seriously. “It is hard competing with someone as gorgeous as you.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Jericho nodded modestly. “So, you wanna make out ‘til they call us for our match?”

Angel burst out laughing. “I love you,” she announced when she was done.

“Love you too, baby,” Jericho replied. “But seriously, you wanna make out?”

Angel raised her eyebrows. “I’d like to, but we really should talk strategy.”

“Party pooper,” Jericho pouted, while giving her an amazed stare. Really, how much more like Benoit could she be? It was just scary. Hell, it was beyond scary.

* * * *

“I’ll start us off, okay, baby?” Jericho asked as they made their way to their corner and touched fists.

The crowd had been really appreciative of Angel’s outfit, giving her huge pops as she followed Jericho down the ramp (she went last so that Regal and Tajiri wouldn’t even think about double-teaming her).

“Sure,” Angel nodded amicably, climbing through the ropes and onto the apron.

The bell rang and Jericho sized up Tajiri. Suddenly, just as he prepared to lock up, slap! Angel pulled the blind tag, dragged herself up top and hit an advancing Tajiri with a corkscrew moonsault. She grabbed immediately for his arm, applying the armwringer and spinning it over her head, first once, then twice, but Tajiri pulled the reversal by grabbing her arm in both hands and applying the armwringer on her. Angel rolled against the pressure, pulling off a nifty somersault and leaping to her feet. She whipped Tajiri into the ropes and caught him with a swinging neckbreaker. She tried to pick him up for a simple suplex, but he reversed and put her in a powerbomb hold instead. He lifted her to head height but she simply hooked her legs around his neck and brought him down in the hurricanrana.

Angel went up top and, as soon as Tajiri found his feet, nailed him with a hard missile dropkick. She stood over his fallen body, rubbing her hands together for a job well done, then ran to her corner and tagged in Jericho. She didn’t notice his glare as she climbed through the ropes and turned to watch.

“Let’s go, Jerky!” she called. “I softened him up, now you finish him.”

Jericho launched his attack with a punch to the head, an Irish whip and a knee to the abdomen. He had to finish this off, so Rogue wouldn’t come anywhere near the action again. She really did not need another knock to the head and Tajiri’s kicks? They were potent. He threw Tajiri into the corner and nailed a couple of knife-edge chops.

“Same again, Tajunior?” he suggested, trying a whip into the other corner, but Tajiri reversed and whipped him there instead. Tajiri ran at him but was met with a hard elbow to the head. Jericho spun around, attempting to grab Tajiri’s head for the bulldog, only to run straight into a spinning heel kick.

“No!” shrieked Angel. “Get up, Jerky! Get up!”

Tajiri tagged Regal, who ran straight into Jericho with a kick and several hard lefts, before Jericho fought back with some punches of his own. He again caught some momentum off the ropes, ready for the bulldog, only to have Regal grab him and throw him from the ring. Regal turned to wave at the crowd, not seeing that Jericho had landed on his feet on the apron and was climbing up top. Bam! Flying elbow and Regal hit the deck. Jericho dragged him to his feet and to his own corner. Slap! Angel again pulled the blind tag and went up top.

“Want some pie, commish?” she called, before taking off in the shooting star, connecting with Regal’s neck and slamming him back onto the canvas. She grabbed him around the head and half lifted him, then hooked her legs around his waist and locked on the crossface chicken wing. She leaned back, wrenching her arm back hard below his chin.

“Tap, bitch!” she cried. “Tap or I’ll choke you out. Tap!”

But they were right at the rope and Regal had no trouble grabbing for it. Angel released him with a scowl and sent him for a tough armdrag, then grabbed him by the arm and whipped him into the ropes. Damn. He was heavier than she remembered. She bounced off her own ropes to gather momentum, intending to try the flying clothesline or the sunset flip if that didn’t work but, just as she met Regal in the middle, he threw his arms in the air, giving her more height and she hurtled out of the ring onto the ground below. Tajiri was down there in a flash, scoring with a hard kick to the gut and then one to the head. Angel was reeling as Tajiri picked her up and threw her back into the ring, where Regal was distracting the ref. He immediately noticed the fallen and semi-conscious Angel, hoisting her to her feet and elbowing her in the ribs before whipping her into the corner. He caught her on the return in a standard suplex hold and threw her over his head, but somehow she landed on her feet behind him and slammed one foot up between his legs. Next, she grabbed his head and twisted around in a tornado DDT, slamming him against the canvas. Regal now lay facedown while Angel, totally exhausted, was flat on her back. She heard Jericho calling.

“Come on, baby. Come on.”

The crowd wanted him too. “Y2J! Y2J! Y2J!”

Squinting, she tumbled over onto her hands and knees and crawled towards the sound of his voice. Slap! Tag out Angel, tag in Jericho. She pulled herself up the ropes as Jericho ducked a Tajiri high kick, punched Regal in the face, punched Tajiri in the face and back body dropped Regal. Tajiri reversed a whip to the ropes, but Jericho caught him on the return with a flying clothesline before nailing Regal with a dropkick and forcing him from the ring. He stopped Tajiri from advancing with a series of knife-edge chops and another clothesline takedown before flying in the lionsault. Tajiri rolled free but Jericho adjusted his flight in midair and landed on his feet, then grabbed Tajiri in an overhead powerbomb, following it with another. He made the cover but only got to one before Regal ran in to break it. Jericho dove out the way, causing Regal to drop the elbow on his partner by mistake. Jericho grabbed Regal and threw him from the ring, then looked over at Angel.

“You finish Tajunior, I’ll take the assclown,” he ordered, tagging her in.

Angel nodded and raced over to where Tajiri was still lying. Suplex time. Germans would be easier, but belly to bellies would do more damage. Tajiri was only about two hundred pounds and she could execute a clumsy snap on Jericho, so there was no contest. She grabbed his pants and dragged him to his feet. Bam! One snap suplex. She didn’t release the hold, pulling him up again. Bam! Two snap suplexes. Third time’s always the charm. Bam! Three snap suplexes. She could have formed the bridge, but this time she wanted to end this right. So she leaped over to the corner and bounced off the ropes. Bam! Bottom rope moonsault. She raced to the corner again. Bam! Second rope moonsault. Leap up top, spin around. Bam! Senton bomb. Saying a little prayer in her mind, she hooked Tajiri’s leg and leaned down on him in the cover.

“One!” counted the ref.

“Come on!” Angel begged, pushing Tajiri down even further.

“Two!”

“Come on, come on!” She pulled the leg in even tighter.

“Three!”

Angel squealed in delight and leaped to her feet, bouncing excitedly. She’d done it! She’d actually won a match on a three count! And not just a three count, a three count after her double moonsault/senton combo. She’d done it! And…yep…her top was still on. Fantastic!

Referee Earl Hebner grabbed her hand and launched it into the air as he did the same to Jericho’s on the other side. Her song was playing and the ring announcer was speaking.

“Here are your winners, Chris Jericho and Angel Torres!”

“We did it, Jerky!” Angel screamed, breaking away from Hebner and throwing her arms around her friend. “We did it!”

“You bet, baby!” Jericho grinned, hugging her tightly.

“I got the three count!” Angel enthused. “And you know what’s even better than that?”

“What’s that?” Jericho asked.

“I don’t have to go to hospital tonight!”

Jericho smiled at her and gave a little nod. “You did good, baby,” he confirmed. “You did real good.”