Beg For You - Chapter One
Title - Beg For You
Author - Callaphera
Rating - R for language, adult situations and language
Pairing - Christian/OC, Chris Jericho/Trish Stratus
Disclaimer - I own all original characters. Recognized characters are owned by the WW(F)E. Don't steal, don't sue.
Author's Note - The story takes place in 2002. Enjoy and lemme know what you think!
Lyrics are from David Draiman of Disturbed/KoRn's "Forsaken", found on the Queen of the Damned soundtrack.
Three Years Ago
They were three.
They had been heading to the ring, when the eerie music was cut off from the loudspeakers, and the arena plunged into darkness. The crowd immediately stopped their cheering and adoration for the trio, and began to buzz amongst themselves, trying to figure out just what the hell was happening. The tallest of the three cocked his head to one side, blocking out the sound of the audience, but there were no footsteps coming down the metal ramp towards them, no surprise attack. Instead, a new song began to play, before it cut off abruptly.
I'm over it
You see I'm falling in the vast abyss
Clouded by memories of the past
At last I see
And then came the laugh that no one stopped talking about until the next time they heard it. It was cold, a chuckle more than anything. A female chuckle, but one unlike anything they had heard before. The youngest of the three felt goose bumps erupt on his skin when he heard the laugh.
And like nothing ever happened, the lights came back, and their entrance music came back.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully.
It was four months before anything of the sort happened again. By then, the trio had become two, and the third person of their group had just disappeared. It was time for them to make their own way in the business. They were young, they were hungry, and they had their eyes on the gold that would proclaim them to be the best tag team in the Federation. If they won this match, they would face the champions at the next show.
But things weren't going their way, and the younger brother was left crumpled in a corner, obviously in pain and unable to help as his older brother was about to get double-teamed.
And the lights died again. And the music started again.
I hear it fading, I can't speak it
Or else you will dig my grave
You feel them finding, always whining
Take my hand, now be alive
He stood there, completely still in the darkness and he thought he felt something or someone brush by him, and the sound of leather rubbing against leather. The mat shifted under his feet, and he heard a few thumps against it, before there were two low groans. As the music faded away, the lights came back on, and he saw her standing at the top of the ramp, meeting his eyes with a calm look that would become her trademark as much as her smirk.
She was of average height, dressed in black leather from head to toe, including the mask that covered part of her face, the bridge of her nose, and extended to stiff points down her cheeks. Blonde hair, an almost golden color, was swept behind her shoulders as she raised a hand and elegantly motioned to his feet. Laying there were the two wrestlers they had been facing. His younger brother rose slowly in the corner, holding onto the ropes to help him up.
The taller man nodded to her and lowered himself, hooking the leg of the legal man in the match, his eyes remaining on her as the three count sounded against the mat. And the female chuckle sounded again, not from her, but again over the loudspeakers in the arena. She nodded slightly to him before facing his younger brother, and bending at the waist suddenly, bowing to him. She straightened up and pushed her hair back over her shoulders before turning on her heel and disappearing behind the black curtain that separated the crowd from backstage.
Immediately, not waiting for the referee to raise their hands and signify the win, they slipped out of the ring and ran up the ramp after her, their feet pounding on the metal, their aches and pains momentarily forgotten. His brother had nudged him when he had seen a flash of black and blonde disappear around a corner, but when they got there, there was no one around. Hell, the younger of the duo had been an all-star in track back in high school, and he couldn't seem to keep up with her.
They never did try looking behind any of the closed doors. In particular, the one that was locked and hiding a blonde woman, dressed in black leather, with her hand on her knees as she fought to regain her breath from the quick sprint, a bright grin on her face.
Two Years Ago
One day, she slipped through the crowd and was standing at the older brother's elbow, pounding her hand on the mat to encourage the smaller man in his one-on-one match. They both had to admit that they liked her standing there, since it evened up the odds. They had just started a feud with the Hardy brothers, who had a valet of their own, a fiery redhead known as Lita. She hadn't interfered, and neither had the other woman, as they sent each other cold looks across the ring. The message was loud and clear to the redhead: Mess with mine, and I'll come after you. The win for the younger brother had been clean, and she had immediately slipped into the ring and glared down the referee, something that would soon become routine, as she grasped his wrist with her cool fingers, raising his hand to the crowd on both sides of the arena.
After that, she met them near the curtain before their matches, accompanying them out to the ring from then on. She never spoke to them, and they never knew her name. The small blonde ring announcer, Lilian Garcia, made things easy on all the announcers and commentators one night, when she saw the blonde woman standing between the brothers at the top of the ramp. "And their opponents, accompanied to the ring by their valet..." She became known as their valet, no proper name. When she wrestled, she became the blonde. Even upper management had no idea what to call her.
And she did wrestle from time to time, and one or both of the brothers would stand in her corner, more for support and encouragement than to help her. The women of the company had thought that she might be easy prey, and it seemed like everyone wanted to challenge her. The matches she had against Terri were entertaining, but certainly not what anyone would call wrestling. When challenged by the company's premiere female wrestler at the time, Ivory, the blonde woman had been completely decimated. Lita figured she wouldn't even be a challenge, and went out to the ring one night, asking the woman to meet her in the ring. The blonde appeared at the top of the ramp, and she nodded her assent before racing down the ramp and sliding into the ring.
By the middle of the match, both tag teams were standing in their own corners, cheering on their women. Surprisingly, the blonde woman put up a damned good fight, managing to keep the daredevil Lita on the mat, rather than letting her take to the top rope and flying, like she was known for. Finally, after the women had been pulled apart by the referee and pushed into separate corners, the blonde pointed to the redhead and smirked, motioning for the redhead to attack her. She did so, giving the blonde a good fight, before the woman pushed her away. The taller of the brothers was about to slide in the ring and give her a hand when she suddenly turned to look at him, her glare ice cold. He understood the message and went back into his corner, encouraging her instead. Not that she needed much. The tentative valet turned into a practiced wrestler right before their eyes. After performing what looked to be a textbook DDT on the redhead, she took to the top rope and performed the move that would be her finishing move for the rest of her career: a four-fifty splash. The blonde got the win.
Their match had been almost immediately after, and no one was surprised when their valet didn't accompany them to the ring; she had just put up a hell of a fight, taken a hell of a beating, and probably needed a rest. They won their match, but when they got back to their locker room, she had disappeared, and there was a note pinned to the outside of the older brother's bag.
Never let me see you attack a woman, unless in self-defense. This is non-negotiable. If I do see you purposely try to hurt any of the women, I will no longer walk out with you.
The note had been written in block printing, but the name scrawled at the bottom was definitely written by a female, a beautiful and slanting script, with a flourish beneath it. They finally had a name for her. They assumed, and assumed rightly, that it was short for Mystery.
Her name was Myst.
One Year Ago
They shared a locker room. They booked their hotel rooms beside each other. They shared rental cars. The trio was almost inseparable, and the men weren't about to give away the blonde's identity, not that they knew it themselves.
Two years after the first time they saw her standing on the ramp, she was on their doorstep, bags in hand, suitcase behind her. She had been without her mask for the first time, and not dressed in her typical all black ensemble. She had simply smiled tentatively as the younger brother opened the front door of their Tampa, Florida home, blinking in surprise at the woman standing on the door step. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and she wore glasses and loose-fitting clothes, a completely different look for the cold beauty that walked out with them night after night. "I'm sorry; I have nowhere else to go," she had said. Within ten minutes, they had her bags in the larger of the two guest bedrooms, and it was hers from then on. They never asked, never pushed, just accepted her into their daily lives.
But the mask never came off outside the arena, and she never spoke a word to anyone, let alone them. From time to time, they joined up with someone else for a six man tag match, and she looked at their partners with that calm stare that unnerved most people. Only one withstood it and returned it, but she never associated with Chris Jericho when they did. She preferred to be alone, or with the brothers. They never saw her with anyone else.
She stood with them while they won the tag team championship belts, letting her cool expression slip for the first time as she threw her arms around the sweaty brothers, one at a time, and whispered her congratulations so low in their ears that they barely caught them. They stood with her when she won the women's title, and raised her hands, one on either side, with the gold belt draped over her shoulder.
They looked unbeatable, unbreakable.
Appearances can be deceiving.
Five Months Ago
The two men had watched the monitor in their dressing room, their fingers crossed, holding their breath as they watched their own slip into the ring without any fanfare, a simple nod to each side of the crowd to let them know that she appreciated their response to her. For a moment, the camera had focused on her, standing alone in the middle of the ring, her legs spread apart and knees bent as she waited for her opponent to come meet her.
Then the lights had changed, the camera moved away from her to the ramp, and the breathy, hard rock music died, being replaced by something more generic that immediately caused the crowd to jeer and boo at the redhead that appeared, glaring at the blonde. This was a rivalry long in the making, just as long as the two tag teams that they represented had feuded. And that night, the vacated women's title belt was held above the ring on a wire loop, glinting in the light. This fight meant so much more.
The match had been fast paced, just the way both women liked it. They were equally matched in their strengths and abilities, both preferring to take to the top rope or turnbuckle every now and then, flying through the air. The fans were kept on the edges of their seats, and the two men in the back would occasionally share looks, sometimes triumphant, sometimes worried, as the two women rolled around and bounced off the canvas. The only thing that placated the two was the fact that there could be no outside interference. Both tag teams had been banned from ringside, as had the entire backstage, just to make it a fair match.
Five minutes into the fight, the ladder came out, Lita setting it up under the raised belt, positioning it just right as the fans were on their feet, screaming obscenities at her. There was no doubt as to who the favorite in the match was. Myst was lying off to one side in the ring, a hand draped loosely over her ribs as she recovered from the breath-taking moonsault she had been forced to take. But before the redhead could make her way up the ladder, the blonde dove at the bottom of it, knocking it to the side and watching with satisfaction as the ladder itself bounced off the top rope, Lita spilling out onto the floor outside the ring. Unfortunately, the blonde had misjudged, and the ladder tipped back in her direction. She had tried to scramble out of the way, but didn't manage to pull her foot away in time, the ladder landing on the back of her ankle. She let out a scream of pain and dropped heavily back to the canvas, breathing heavily; the ladder had landed on the same ankle that Lita had been working on earlier in the match. It was well known that the blonde had ankle problems from time to time.
Once she got her breath back, she pushed the ladder off of her ankle and stood up, seeming to favor the other leg. She pushed and pulled the ladder until it was in the perfect position, climbing it with both eyes on the title belt. Lita had started to stir on the outside and began to pull herself back into the ring. Once Myst had reached the top of the ladder, she let go of the breath she was holding and unsnapped the belt, holding it loosely in one hand.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the match, and the crowd was on its feet, cheering loudly, almost drowning out the tiny blonde ring announcer. "Your winner, and new WWE Women's Champion...Myst!" The breathy music started once again.
With a roar, the redhead crashed into the ladder, knocking it out of place, hoping to knock down the blonde. Barely in the nick of time, Myst had wrapped her arm through the wire loop and dangled above the redhead, pulling her knees towards her chest, in order to take away the area of her body that Lita tried to get her hands on. The new champion had simply looked down at her with the unnerving calm that she was known for, despite the fact that she had been worked over well during the match. The referee began to try and force Lita out of the way so they could set the ladder back up, when Myst simply let go of the wire loop, landing as gracefully as a cat on both of her feet, before her ankle buckled, and she rolled to one side, her nonplussed expression changing to one of pain.
The tag team hadn't had a chance to check on their valet; their match had been coming up soon, after the ring would be cleared of the debris from the upcoming hardcore match. She had called them from their hotel room before their match had started, informing them that she was flying home, with her title belt, to rest her ankle, with the grudgingly given permission of the company. The men had congratulated her, made sure that she really was okay, and accepted her wishes of luck in her soft, low voice.
They won that night.
Three Nights Ago
Things had gone so well. They had been standing there, her in the center of them after she had glared down the referee. Sure, the brothers were a little worse for wear, but they could still stand, and in their hands were the gleaming gold belts they had just won back. And she had her hands on their other wrists, lifting them into the air. She looked at the taller of the two first, and although her characteristic smirk was firmly in place beneath the black leather of her mask, he saw the twinkling glee in her eyes that was silently congratulating him on a job well done. Her head turned, hair falling over one eye as she looked at the younger, shorter man, and she winked this time, causing him to break out into a grin, despite the pain from his ribs.
Their music cut off abruptly and her brow had furrowed before their eyes, before different music began, the woman between them cursing suddenly. Moving as quickly as they could, what with being hurt and exhausted from their title match, they ushered Myst out of the ring, while all three sets of eyes remained on the ramp, waiting for them to come out.
But Team Xtreme surprised them from behind, running through the crowd and jumping over the barricade. Within seconds, the three of them slid into the ring and attacked. The younger of the brothers hissed in pain as he was knocked down, his fall broken by something soft. A mass of blonde hair, definitely belonging to their valet and not his older brother, filled his eyes as he realized just what he had landed on. He heard her exhale loudly and then struggle to breathe in again, as he was unceremoniously yanked from atop her body, right where he had planned to stay in order to protect her. Lita grabbed onto the blonde, forcing her onto her knees, one arm around her neck in a modified sleeper hold, the other wrapped in the woman's hair, pulling her head up as she struggled to breathe. She held her there, forcing her to watch as both brothers were given a hell of a beating at the hands of Matt and Jeff Hardy.
When it seemed like the brothers could take no more, they were also put into modified sleeper holds, both of their heads being forced up as the crowd booed and jeered at what they were seeing. Lita pulled the blonde into the centre of the ring and lifted her body up and over in a suplex, letting the woman fall into the mat from a decent height. The ring shuddered as she rolled over onto her side, pulling her knees up in an attempt to protect herself from the blows she knew the redhead was about to rain on her. But instead, hands picked her up again and this time, it was a mighty DDT that forced her head into the mat and made her see stars. The younger brother yelled out her name, trying to fight away from Matt Hardy, who was holding him in place and laughing, forcing him to watch as Lita finally put the boots to Myst, the valet's body convulsing with each kick. The fans were outraged now, and the referee went back into the ring, trying to pull the redhead away, only to be tossed through the ropes to the outside. Lita kicked the blonde one final time, this time in the head, causing her to cry out and bring her hands up to her forehead.
She slid out of the ring and marched over to the announce tables, pushing the timekeeper from his seat before taking his metal folding chair and snapping it shut, sliding back into the ring. The blonde haired valet had struggled to her feet and attempted to launch herself at Matt Hardy in an attempt to get him off of her friend. Lita only laughed and grabbed the weakened woman by her hair one handed, throwing her back into the center of the ring. Myst wrapped her arms around her head and rolled to her side in order to protect her head when she saw the steel chair.
The first hit knocked the breath out of her again. She was gasping when the second hit came. The third, which used the edge of the chair against her ankle, was unexpected. Long ago, when the three had started working together, the eldest brother had told her to always look for an opponent's weakness and use it to her advantage. It seemed that the enemy also understood that rule and was putting it into effect. She had just come back after a broken ankle caused in a match between her and Lita. Now, it seemed that she was out to break it.
The blonde woman screamed in pain, the few features that weren't hidden by her leather mask contorted in pain. Both brothers were forced to watch as she made eye contact with them, her eyes filled with tears as the chair came down again and slammed into her ankle, making her scream again, taking her hands away from her head and reaching out to them as if they could try to help her. Lita took advantage of the situation and slammed the chair down so hard on the woman's head that it dented the chair. Mercifully, she was knocked unconscious. Lita continued to work on her ankle while she was out, as the Hardys decided to play with their captives a little while longer.
Two minutes later, all three of them were laying in the ring, the brothers barely conscious, the woman still knocked out. The older brother stirred and pulled himself across the canvas until he could touch the blonde woman's wrist, tapping it, saying her name. The younger one started to move as well, sliding on his knees towards her, and placing his palm on her cheek, wiping away a trickle of blood from a cut above her eyebrow. Another referee started down the ramp at full speed, and he raised his head, blue eyes blazing. "Get the paramedics!" he roared, watching as the referee made an about face and ran again.
The woman didn't wake up until they were in the hospital.
Present Day
With a groan, Christian opened his eyes and rubbed them with his fists, as if he could wipe the image away. The past two nights of sleep had all been the same way, with him waking up in the middle of the night after reliving the beatdown the three of them had received at the latest pay-per-view. He sat up in bed, letting the blankets fall down to his waist as he reached for the lamp on his bedside table, flicking it on. He gave himself a moment to adjust to the addition of the light in the room, before taking a sip of warm water from the glass beside his alarm clock.
A shuffling noise sounded from the hallway, pausing in front of his closed bedroom door, and his lips twitched into a bit of a smile as the door opened slowly, and the woman poked her head in. "What are you still doing up?" she asked softly, smiling back at him when she opened the door further at his motion and hobbled into the room, closing it behind her.
"Can't sleep," he told her simply, shrugging his shoulders. He motioned to her again and she pushed her hair out of her face before shuffling towards the bed, climbing on and up towards the pillows beside him. "What about you?"
She made a face as she lay back on the pillows, looking up to his ceiling. "My ankle is killing me."
He turned onto his side, propped up on his elbow as he examined her closely. The bruise on her forehead was beginning to fade, but the cut in the centre of the mark looked as ugly as ever. Other bruises marred her bare arms, making her golden Florida tan less apparent. He knew that there was an even larger bruise on her back, that her tee shirt was hiding, and worst of all, her right ankle was wrapped into a Tensor bandage again, her foot and toes puffy and slightly discolored. Sighing, he flipped onto his back again and turned off the lamp, enveloping them in the dark. He reached for her, tucking his head against his shoulder and in his neck, leaning his head to rest against the top of hers. She responded by wrapping an arm around his, resting her hand on his wrist.
It was so rare that she actually allowed one of them to touch her outside the ring, despite the fact that they had known her for three years now. For the past year, she had lived with them, not saying much, just enjoying their company. They had yet to learn her real name, or why she concealed herself with the mask, or why she had nowhere else to go.
He sighed again and kissed the top of her head, feeling her snuggle into his arms, turning onto her side and burying her face against him. He froze when he heard her sniffle, the shoulder of his tee shirt dampening against his skin. "I'm sorry, but...it just hurts so much," she whispered, her body shaking as she tried to hold in her tears. He ran his hand over her hair and across her shoulders, not wanting to venture further and accidentally brush against the bruise on her back.
This was another first for Christian. He had never seen her cry. The last time her ankle had been injured, she had simply grit her teeth and dealt with the pain. It hadn't been a pretty sight, watching the look on her face when they set her ankle before they had applied the cast, but she had withstood the pain better than some of the tougher men in the company. Oh, he was sure that she had crawled into bed that night and cried. In fact, he was damned sure of it, because his bedroom was across the hallway from hers and he had heard it, but she had always refused to cry in front of either him or his brother. "I know, baby. I wish there was something that I could do..." He trailed off, and kissed her again, as she snuggled closer to him, taking a deep breath.
"What's your full name?" she asked suddenly, before raising her head somewhat to look at him. With a shrug, she gave him a tiny bit of a smile. "I've always wondered, and right now...I'd probably just feel better if we talked or something. I don't like the silence."
He pursed his lips thoughtfully at that line. She didn't like the silence? She didn't talk to them for two years. Not a word passed her lips until exactly two years to the day they were first face to face. In fact, she had never been a big talker, and he would have been surprised if she had ever raised her voice to either of them. "My full...oh," he said softly, chuckling a bit as he settled her back against his neck, moving the tee shirt a bit so that she wouldn't have to lay down in the wet spot she had created. "Christian Cage Copeland."
"Weird."
He smiled into the darkness. "Yeah, Mom was pretty original with her names. Of course, Edge's first name isn't Edge. It's his middle name. His first name is Adam. We both got normal first names and kind of weird middle names." Christian sighed suddenly, running his hand through her hair again, working on a knot in the back. "What about you? I know that your first name can't be Myst. That's just...beyond weird. That's beyond Edge, for Christ's sake."
Now she laughed slightly, pulling away from his neck as she did so. The sound of tears had finally left her voice. "It's Shea. Um, Shea Beatrice, actually. My middle name is from an aunt or something. I don't know, I never particularly liked it."
Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark again, he pulled away from her a bit, watching as she settled down on the pillow beside him. His eyes roamed her face and hair for a moment, before he cocked his head to one side. "I just...I can't see you as a Shea, really. I guess just because I've always known you as Myst. I always wondered why you never told us your real name, though. I mean, I get that you value your privacy and all. But at first, it was kind of awkward. For a full year, they didn't know how to announce you."
She laughed again. "Poor Lilian. She tried so hard to get my name out of me, or even get me to talk. She really is a nice woman. She'll understand one day. Everyone will." Now she raised herself up on her elbow to match his height, looking into his blue eyes. "Christian, I have my reasons for everything that I do. I had my reasons for not giving my real name, I have my reasons for wearing my mask, and I have my reasons as to why I chose you and Edge." Her face broke into a full fledged grin then, her eyes crinkling into slits as her cheeks rose up. "Don't look so surprised. I chose you two after a long study. And I made the right choice. You two are the best things that have happened to me since...oh, since I was born, really. But you have to understand something. I won't always be there with you. There's a time, and it's coming soon, where the three of us are going to go our separate ways."
"You're serious, aren't you?"
"Would you believe me if I said that I wasn't in love with wrestling until I spent a good year and a bit with you two? Because I wasn't. It wasn't something that I ever wanted to do, that I ever dreamed doing. I can't ever remember wanting to be a part of this business. But I made a promise and I kept it, and now I'm here. Look, it's been a blast for me. And I love you two with all my heart, but if I had had my choice? I would have been in practice by now, not just wasting away all those years on my degree. I wanted to be a psychiatrist. Not the WWE Women's Champion. Not the valet and partner of the WWE Tag Team Champions. I wanted to be normal, every day Shea helping kids like me." She let her gaze fall back down to the blankets that covered him and that she was laying on top of. "Look, I'm sorry if I misled you. But I've heard rumors lately, and it sounds like a debt I owe is going to need to be paid. And I realize that I'm not making any sense. Maybe that painkiller is finally kicking in."
Christian frowned, reaching a hand forward to tuck her long blonde hair behind her ear. "I didn't think the doctor's gave you any in the hospital."
"They didn't." Shea grinned at him suddenly and wormed her way under the covers, settling herself against the pillow. "Your darling older brother gave me one when he saw that I couldn't sleep. Well, he gave me a handful, really. I just took the second one before coming to see you." Her smile dropped as quickly as it had appeared and she reached for his hand, entwining her fingers with his. "I don't think I'm gonna be here much longer, so do you mind if I...you know..."
His answer was to lie back against his pillows and reach for her again, listening as she sighed once she settled herself against his broad shoulder again, not releasing her hold on his hand. No, he didn't mind in the least.
At Edge's insistence, her foot was propped up on the table, a throw pillow under her ankle as she relaxed against the back of the couch, reaching for the bowl of popcorn that he handed her. "You know, this is happening far too often."
"Popcorn?" the tall blond man asked, before climbing onto the seat beside her, putting his own feet on the table, a can of soda in one hand.
"No. Us watching RAW from the comfort of our own couch," she told him dryly, before throwing a kernel of popcorn in her mouth. He snickered and leaned forward, shouting for his younger brother, causing her to jump. With a smirk and a wink, he settled back in his seat, watching as she shook her head. Christian appeared seconds later, his arms full with the mass of black and white fur that they jokingly referred to as their team mascot, the five year old cat named Oreo that they had picked out at the pound. He let the cat drop back onto the floor with a thump and a shake of the tail, before settling itself directly under Edge's legs.
"I swear, the damned cat is a masochist," he grumbled, staring down the yellow eyes that turned in his direction. "Yes, I'm talking about you, you big waste of a fur ball."
Christian smirked as he sat on the other side of Shea, reaching for a handful of popcorn once he brushed the loose cat hair off of himself. "And yet, who is the one that keeps their bedroom door open until the cat decides to settle in for the night with him? No, it wouldn't be you."
Although all three of them would have preferred to be at the show, performing for the crowd and defending their titles, they were at least somewhat mollified as they watched the show take place on the wide screen television set. Watching the show, as Shea had learned during her last ankle injury, was somewhat amusing, especially with the personality differences in the two brothers. Christian had more of an inclination to grumble and mutter at the people he didn't like, nodding his head and smirking when something went the way they liked. Edge, on the other hand...well, Edge acted like a true fan of the WWE. He tossed handfuls of popcorn at the television screen at anyone he didn't like, made comments that the other two blushed at during a bra and panties match, and went as far as throwing his empty soda can when the Hardys and Lita were shown, especially when Lita made a promise to unmask the women's champion, Myst. "Oh, please," Shea had said, rolling her eyes. The black leather mask was something that was often discussed backstage, since it seemed like no one could possibly untie and take it off the woman. No one was quite sure what type of knot she used on it to keep it in place, but so far, anyone who tried met failure and usually a boot to the face for their efforts.
But it was the end of the show that made them all stare at the television screen, not really able to comprehend what was happening. Shea's cell phone had given its usual double chirp, letting them know that someone was calling her. Edge narrowed his eyes as he handed it over to her from the coffee table. From time to time, she would receive a phone call from someone who wasn't in her phone's directory, therefore not giving them a name, and she always went into another room to speak to them. This time, most likely due to her ankle, she stayed sitting between the two, talking during the last commercial break. "Hey," she said, listening to the other person for a moment. "Yeah, no. It's fine; it's not sprained or anything. The doctor said that two weeks of rest should do it, and I'll be back to one hundred percent."
Edge looked over at his brother above the woman's head, giving him a raised eyebrow at the tone of voice Shea used. They were both used to hearing that low voice, damned near a whisper, coming from her, that hearing her sound cheerful as she chatted with the other person was just strange. She and her mystery caller continued to catch up while the show came back on the air. Finally, it was Christian poking her in the arm that made her quiet down and look up at the screen.
Just in time to see Vince McMahon welcome Eric Bischoff onto the stage and hug him.
His enemy. Actually put his arms around him and hug him.
"Holy fucking hell," she whispered, while Edge shouted something similar. "Yeah, no. I just saw-" She broke off and nodded a few times. Even though the show was over, she couldn't take her eyes away from the screen. "No, I completely understand. You're right; it's time. Did you want to start setting it up for me? I appreciate it." She laughed suddenly, harshly, causing both men to look at her funny. "I appreciate it, I really do. I guess I'll see you soon. Yeah, take care."
Shea closed her phone and then her eyes, bringing a hand up to massage her brow, as if a sudden headache had settled in. Finally, she opened them and looked from brother to brother. "Uh...guys? I think we'd better talk."
Next Chapter >> Chapter Two
Author - Callaphera
Rating - R for language, adult situations and language
Pairing - Christian/OC, Chris Jericho/Trish Stratus
Disclaimer - I own all original characters. Recognized characters are owned by the WW(F)E. Don't steal, don't sue.
Author's Note - The story takes place in 2002. Enjoy and lemme know what you think!
Lyrics are from David Draiman of Disturbed/KoRn's "Forsaken", found on the Queen of the Damned soundtrack.
Three Years Ago
They were three.
They had been heading to the ring, when the eerie music was cut off from the loudspeakers, and the arena plunged into darkness. The crowd immediately stopped their cheering and adoration for the trio, and began to buzz amongst themselves, trying to figure out just what the hell was happening. The tallest of the three cocked his head to one side, blocking out the sound of the audience, but there were no footsteps coming down the metal ramp towards them, no surprise attack. Instead, a new song began to play, before it cut off abruptly.
I'm over it
You see I'm falling in the vast abyss
Clouded by memories of the past
At last I see
And then came the laugh that no one stopped talking about until the next time they heard it. It was cold, a chuckle more than anything. A female chuckle, but one unlike anything they had heard before. The youngest of the three felt goose bumps erupt on his skin when he heard the laugh.
And like nothing ever happened, the lights came back, and their entrance music came back.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully.
It was four months before anything of the sort happened again. By then, the trio had become two, and the third person of their group had just disappeared. It was time for them to make their own way in the business. They were young, they were hungry, and they had their eyes on the gold that would proclaim them to be the best tag team in the Federation. If they won this match, they would face the champions at the next show.
But things weren't going their way, and the younger brother was left crumpled in a corner, obviously in pain and unable to help as his older brother was about to get double-teamed.
And the lights died again. And the music started again.
I hear it fading, I can't speak it
Or else you will dig my grave
You feel them finding, always whining
Take my hand, now be alive
He stood there, completely still in the darkness and he thought he felt something or someone brush by him, and the sound of leather rubbing against leather. The mat shifted under his feet, and he heard a few thumps against it, before there were two low groans. As the music faded away, the lights came back on, and he saw her standing at the top of the ramp, meeting his eyes with a calm look that would become her trademark as much as her smirk.
She was of average height, dressed in black leather from head to toe, including the mask that covered part of her face, the bridge of her nose, and extended to stiff points down her cheeks. Blonde hair, an almost golden color, was swept behind her shoulders as she raised a hand and elegantly motioned to his feet. Laying there were the two wrestlers they had been facing. His younger brother rose slowly in the corner, holding onto the ropes to help him up.
The taller man nodded to her and lowered himself, hooking the leg of the legal man in the match, his eyes remaining on her as the three count sounded against the mat. And the female chuckle sounded again, not from her, but again over the loudspeakers in the arena. She nodded slightly to him before facing his younger brother, and bending at the waist suddenly, bowing to him. She straightened up and pushed her hair back over her shoulders before turning on her heel and disappearing behind the black curtain that separated the crowd from backstage.
Immediately, not waiting for the referee to raise their hands and signify the win, they slipped out of the ring and ran up the ramp after her, their feet pounding on the metal, their aches and pains momentarily forgotten. His brother had nudged him when he had seen a flash of black and blonde disappear around a corner, but when they got there, there was no one around. Hell, the younger of the duo had been an all-star in track back in high school, and he couldn't seem to keep up with her.
They never did try looking behind any of the closed doors. In particular, the one that was locked and hiding a blonde woman, dressed in black leather, with her hand on her knees as she fought to regain her breath from the quick sprint, a bright grin on her face.
Two Years Ago
One day, she slipped through the crowd and was standing at the older brother's elbow, pounding her hand on the mat to encourage the smaller man in his one-on-one match. They both had to admit that they liked her standing there, since it evened up the odds. They had just started a feud with the Hardy brothers, who had a valet of their own, a fiery redhead known as Lita. She hadn't interfered, and neither had the other woman, as they sent each other cold looks across the ring. The message was loud and clear to the redhead: Mess with mine, and I'll come after you. The win for the younger brother had been clean, and she had immediately slipped into the ring and glared down the referee, something that would soon become routine, as she grasped his wrist with her cool fingers, raising his hand to the crowd on both sides of the arena.
After that, she met them near the curtain before their matches, accompanying them out to the ring from then on. She never spoke to them, and they never knew her name. The small blonde ring announcer, Lilian Garcia, made things easy on all the announcers and commentators one night, when she saw the blonde woman standing between the brothers at the top of the ramp. "And their opponents, accompanied to the ring by their valet..." She became known as their valet, no proper name. When she wrestled, she became the blonde. Even upper management had no idea what to call her.
And she did wrestle from time to time, and one or both of the brothers would stand in her corner, more for support and encouragement than to help her. The women of the company had thought that she might be easy prey, and it seemed like everyone wanted to challenge her. The matches she had against Terri were entertaining, but certainly not what anyone would call wrestling. When challenged by the company's premiere female wrestler at the time, Ivory, the blonde woman had been completely decimated. Lita figured she wouldn't even be a challenge, and went out to the ring one night, asking the woman to meet her in the ring. The blonde appeared at the top of the ramp, and she nodded her assent before racing down the ramp and sliding into the ring.
By the middle of the match, both tag teams were standing in their own corners, cheering on their women. Surprisingly, the blonde woman put up a damned good fight, managing to keep the daredevil Lita on the mat, rather than letting her take to the top rope and flying, like she was known for. Finally, after the women had been pulled apart by the referee and pushed into separate corners, the blonde pointed to the redhead and smirked, motioning for the redhead to attack her. She did so, giving the blonde a good fight, before the woman pushed her away. The taller of the brothers was about to slide in the ring and give her a hand when she suddenly turned to look at him, her glare ice cold. He understood the message and went back into his corner, encouraging her instead. Not that she needed much. The tentative valet turned into a practiced wrestler right before their eyes. After performing what looked to be a textbook DDT on the redhead, she took to the top rope and performed the move that would be her finishing move for the rest of her career: a four-fifty splash. The blonde got the win.
Their match had been almost immediately after, and no one was surprised when their valet didn't accompany them to the ring; she had just put up a hell of a fight, taken a hell of a beating, and probably needed a rest. They won their match, but when they got back to their locker room, she had disappeared, and there was a note pinned to the outside of the older brother's bag.
Never let me see you attack a woman, unless in self-defense. This is non-negotiable. If I do see you purposely try to hurt any of the women, I will no longer walk out with you.
The note had been written in block printing, but the name scrawled at the bottom was definitely written by a female, a beautiful and slanting script, with a flourish beneath it. They finally had a name for her. They assumed, and assumed rightly, that it was short for Mystery.
Her name was Myst.
One Year Ago
They shared a locker room. They booked their hotel rooms beside each other. They shared rental cars. The trio was almost inseparable, and the men weren't about to give away the blonde's identity, not that they knew it themselves.
Two years after the first time they saw her standing on the ramp, she was on their doorstep, bags in hand, suitcase behind her. She had been without her mask for the first time, and not dressed in her typical all black ensemble. She had simply smiled tentatively as the younger brother opened the front door of their Tampa, Florida home, blinking in surprise at the woman standing on the door step. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and she wore glasses and loose-fitting clothes, a completely different look for the cold beauty that walked out with them night after night. "I'm sorry; I have nowhere else to go," she had said. Within ten minutes, they had her bags in the larger of the two guest bedrooms, and it was hers from then on. They never asked, never pushed, just accepted her into their daily lives.
But the mask never came off outside the arena, and she never spoke a word to anyone, let alone them. From time to time, they joined up with someone else for a six man tag match, and she looked at their partners with that calm stare that unnerved most people. Only one withstood it and returned it, but she never associated with Chris Jericho when they did. She preferred to be alone, or with the brothers. They never saw her with anyone else.
She stood with them while they won the tag team championship belts, letting her cool expression slip for the first time as she threw her arms around the sweaty brothers, one at a time, and whispered her congratulations so low in their ears that they barely caught them. They stood with her when she won the women's title, and raised her hands, one on either side, with the gold belt draped over her shoulder.
They looked unbeatable, unbreakable.
Appearances can be deceiving.
Five Months Ago
The two men had watched the monitor in their dressing room, their fingers crossed, holding their breath as they watched their own slip into the ring without any fanfare, a simple nod to each side of the crowd to let them know that she appreciated their response to her. For a moment, the camera had focused on her, standing alone in the middle of the ring, her legs spread apart and knees bent as she waited for her opponent to come meet her.
Then the lights had changed, the camera moved away from her to the ramp, and the breathy, hard rock music died, being replaced by something more generic that immediately caused the crowd to jeer and boo at the redhead that appeared, glaring at the blonde. This was a rivalry long in the making, just as long as the two tag teams that they represented had feuded. And that night, the vacated women's title belt was held above the ring on a wire loop, glinting in the light. This fight meant so much more.
The match had been fast paced, just the way both women liked it. They were equally matched in their strengths and abilities, both preferring to take to the top rope or turnbuckle every now and then, flying through the air. The fans were kept on the edges of their seats, and the two men in the back would occasionally share looks, sometimes triumphant, sometimes worried, as the two women rolled around and bounced off the canvas. The only thing that placated the two was the fact that there could be no outside interference. Both tag teams had been banned from ringside, as had the entire backstage, just to make it a fair match.
Five minutes into the fight, the ladder came out, Lita setting it up under the raised belt, positioning it just right as the fans were on their feet, screaming obscenities at her. There was no doubt as to who the favorite in the match was. Myst was lying off to one side in the ring, a hand draped loosely over her ribs as she recovered from the breath-taking moonsault she had been forced to take. But before the redhead could make her way up the ladder, the blonde dove at the bottom of it, knocking it to the side and watching with satisfaction as the ladder itself bounced off the top rope, Lita spilling out onto the floor outside the ring. Unfortunately, the blonde had misjudged, and the ladder tipped back in her direction. She had tried to scramble out of the way, but didn't manage to pull her foot away in time, the ladder landing on the back of her ankle. She let out a scream of pain and dropped heavily back to the canvas, breathing heavily; the ladder had landed on the same ankle that Lita had been working on earlier in the match. It was well known that the blonde had ankle problems from time to time.
Once she got her breath back, she pushed the ladder off of her ankle and stood up, seeming to favor the other leg. She pushed and pulled the ladder until it was in the perfect position, climbing it with both eyes on the title belt. Lita had started to stir on the outside and began to pull herself back into the ring. Once Myst had reached the top of the ladder, she let go of the breath she was holding and unsnapped the belt, holding it loosely in one hand.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the match, and the crowd was on its feet, cheering loudly, almost drowning out the tiny blonde ring announcer. "Your winner, and new WWE Women's Champion...Myst!" The breathy music started once again.
With a roar, the redhead crashed into the ladder, knocking it out of place, hoping to knock down the blonde. Barely in the nick of time, Myst had wrapped her arm through the wire loop and dangled above the redhead, pulling her knees towards her chest, in order to take away the area of her body that Lita tried to get her hands on. The new champion had simply looked down at her with the unnerving calm that she was known for, despite the fact that she had been worked over well during the match. The referee began to try and force Lita out of the way so they could set the ladder back up, when Myst simply let go of the wire loop, landing as gracefully as a cat on both of her feet, before her ankle buckled, and she rolled to one side, her nonplussed expression changing to one of pain.
The tag team hadn't had a chance to check on their valet; their match had been coming up soon, after the ring would be cleared of the debris from the upcoming hardcore match. She had called them from their hotel room before their match had started, informing them that she was flying home, with her title belt, to rest her ankle, with the grudgingly given permission of the company. The men had congratulated her, made sure that she really was okay, and accepted her wishes of luck in her soft, low voice.
They won that night.
Three Nights Ago
Things had gone so well. They had been standing there, her in the center of them after she had glared down the referee. Sure, the brothers were a little worse for wear, but they could still stand, and in their hands were the gleaming gold belts they had just won back. And she had her hands on their other wrists, lifting them into the air. She looked at the taller of the two first, and although her characteristic smirk was firmly in place beneath the black leather of her mask, he saw the twinkling glee in her eyes that was silently congratulating him on a job well done. Her head turned, hair falling over one eye as she looked at the younger, shorter man, and she winked this time, causing him to break out into a grin, despite the pain from his ribs.
Their music cut off abruptly and her brow had furrowed before their eyes, before different music began, the woman between them cursing suddenly. Moving as quickly as they could, what with being hurt and exhausted from their title match, they ushered Myst out of the ring, while all three sets of eyes remained on the ramp, waiting for them to come out.
But Team Xtreme surprised them from behind, running through the crowd and jumping over the barricade. Within seconds, the three of them slid into the ring and attacked. The younger of the brothers hissed in pain as he was knocked down, his fall broken by something soft. A mass of blonde hair, definitely belonging to their valet and not his older brother, filled his eyes as he realized just what he had landed on. He heard her exhale loudly and then struggle to breathe in again, as he was unceremoniously yanked from atop her body, right where he had planned to stay in order to protect her. Lita grabbed onto the blonde, forcing her onto her knees, one arm around her neck in a modified sleeper hold, the other wrapped in the woman's hair, pulling her head up as she struggled to breathe. She held her there, forcing her to watch as both brothers were given a hell of a beating at the hands of Matt and Jeff Hardy.
When it seemed like the brothers could take no more, they were also put into modified sleeper holds, both of their heads being forced up as the crowd booed and jeered at what they were seeing. Lita pulled the blonde into the centre of the ring and lifted her body up and over in a suplex, letting the woman fall into the mat from a decent height. The ring shuddered as she rolled over onto her side, pulling her knees up in an attempt to protect herself from the blows she knew the redhead was about to rain on her. But instead, hands picked her up again and this time, it was a mighty DDT that forced her head into the mat and made her see stars. The younger brother yelled out her name, trying to fight away from Matt Hardy, who was holding him in place and laughing, forcing him to watch as Lita finally put the boots to Myst, the valet's body convulsing with each kick. The fans were outraged now, and the referee went back into the ring, trying to pull the redhead away, only to be tossed through the ropes to the outside. Lita kicked the blonde one final time, this time in the head, causing her to cry out and bring her hands up to her forehead.
She slid out of the ring and marched over to the announce tables, pushing the timekeeper from his seat before taking his metal folding chair and snapping it shut, sliding back into the ring. The blonde haired valet had struggled to her feet and attempted to launch herself at Matt Hardy in an attempt to get him off of her friend. Lita only laughed and grabbed the weakened woman by her hair one handed, throwing her back into the center of the ring. Myst wrapped her arms around her head and rolled to her side in order to protect her head when she saw the steel chair.
The first hit knocked the breath out of her again. She was gasping when the second hit came. The third, which used the edge of the chair against her ankle, was unexpected. Long ago, when the three had started working together, the eldest brother had told her to always look for an opponent's weakness and use it to her advantage. It seemed that the enemy also understood that rule and was putting it into effect. She had just come back after a broken ankle caused in a match between her and Lita. Now, it seemed that she was out to break it.
The blonde woman screamed in pain, the few features that weren't hidden by her leather mask contorted in pain. Both brothers were forced to watch as she made eye contact with them, her eyes filled with tears as the chair came down again and slammed into her ankle, making her scream again, taking her hands away from her head and reaching out to them as if they could try to help her. Lita took advantage of the situation and slammed the chair down so hard on the woman's head that it dented the chair. Mercifully, she was knocked unconscious. Lita continued to work on her ankle while she was out, as the Hardys decided to play with their captives a little while longer.
Two minutes later, all three of them were laying in the ring, the brothers barely conscious, the woman still knocked out. The older brother stirred and pulled himself across the canvas until he could touch the blonde woman's wrist, tapping it, saying her name. The younger one started to move as well, sliding on his knees towards her, and placing his palm on her cheek, wiping away a trickle of blood from a cut above her eyebrow. Another referee started down the ramp at full speed, and he raised his head, blue eyes blazing. "Get the paramedics!" he roared, watching as the referee made an about face and ran again.
The woman didn't wake up until they were in the hospital.
Present Day
With a groan, Christian opened his eyes and rubbed them with his fists, as if he could wipe the image away. The past two nights of sleep had all been the same way, with him waking up in the middle of the night after reliving the beatdown the three of them had received at the latest pay-per-view. He sat up in bed, letting the blankets fall down to his waist as he reached for the lamp on his bedside table, flicking it on. He gave himself a moment to adjust to the addition of the light in the room, before taking a sip of warm water from the glass beside his alarm clock.
A shuffling noise sounded from the hallway, pausing in front of his closed bedroom door, and his lips twitched into a bit of a smile as the door opened slowly, and the woman poked her head in. "What are you still doing up?" she asked softly, smiling back at him when she opened the door further at his motion and hobbled into the room, closing it behind her.
"Can't sleep," he told her simply, shrugging his shoulders. He motioned to her again and she pushed her hair out of her face before shuffling towards the bed, climbing on and up towards the pillows beside him. "What about you?"
She made a face as she lay back on the pillows, looking up to his ceiling. "My ankle is killing me."
He turned onto his side, propped up on his elbow as he examined her closely. The bruise on her forehead was beginning to fade, but the cut in the centre of the mark looked as ugly as ever. Other bruises marred her bare arms, making her golden Florida tan less apparent. He knew that there was an even larger bruise on her back, that her tee shirt was hiding, and worst of all, her right ankle was wrapped into a Tensor bandage again, her foot and toes puffy and slightly discolored. Sighing, he flipped onto his back again and turned off the lamp, enveloping them in the dark. He reached for her, tucking his head against his shoulder and in his neck, leaning his head to rest against the top of hers. She responded by wrapping an arm around his, resting her hand on his wrist.
It was so rare that she actually allowed one of them to touch her outside the ring, despite the fact that they had known her for three years now. For the past year, she had lived with them, not saying much, just enjoying their company. They had yet to learn her real name, or why she concealed herself with the mask, or why she had nowhere else to go.
He sighed again and kissed the top of her head, feeling her snuggle into his arms, turning onto her side and burying her face against him. He froze when he heard her sniffle, the shoulder of his tee shirt dampening against his skin. "I'm sorry, but...it just hurts so much," she whispered, her body shaking as she tried to hold in her tears. He ran his hand over her hair and across her shoulders, not wanting to venture further and accidentally brush against the bruise on her back.
This was another first for Christian. He had never seen her cry. The last time her ankle had been injured, she had simply grit her teeth and dealt with the pain. It hadn't been a pretty sight, watching the look on her face when they set her ankle before they had applied the cast, but she had withstood the pain better than some of the tougher men in the company. Oh, he was sure that she had crawled into bed that night and cried. In fact, he was damned sure of it, because his bedroom was across the hallway from hers and he had heard it, but she had always refused to cry in front of either him or his brother. "I know, baby. I wish there was something that I could do..." He trailed off, and kissed her again, as she snuggled closer to him, taking a deep breath.
"What's your full name?" she asked suddenly, before raising her head somewhat to look at him. With a shrug, she gave him a tiny bit of a smile. "I've always wondered, and right now...I'd probably just feel better if we talked or something. I don't like the silence."
He pursed his lips thoughtfully at that line. She didn't like the silence? She didn't talk to them for two years. Not a word passed her lips until exactly two years to the day they were first face to face. In fact, she had never been a big talker, and he would have been surprised if she had ever raised her voice to either of them. "My full...oh," he said softly, chuckling a bit as he settled her back against his neck, moving the tee shirt a bit so that she wouldn't have to lay down in the wet spot she had created. "Christian Cage Copeland."
"Weird."
He smiled into the darkness. "Yeah, Mom was pretty original with her names. Of course, Edge's first name isn't Edge. It's his middle name. His first name is Adam. We both got normal first names and kind of weird middle names." Christian sighed suddenly, running his hand through her hair again, working on a knot in the back. "What about you? I know that your first name can't be Myst. That's just...beyond weird. That's beyond Edge, for Christ's sake."
Now she laughed slightly, pulling away from his neck as she did so. The sound of tears had finally left her voice. "It's Shea. Um, Shea Beatrice, actually. My middle name is from an aunt or something. I don't know, I never particularly liked it."
Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark again, he pulled away from her a bit, watching as she settled down on the pillow beside him. His eyes roamed her face and hair for a moment, before he cocked his head to one side. "I just...I can't see you as a Shea, really. I guess just because I've always known you as Myst. I always wondered why you never told us your real name, though. I mean, I get that you value your privacy and all. But at first, it was kind of awkward. For a full year, they didn't know how to announce you."
She laughed again. "Poor Lilian. She tried so hard to get my name out of me, or even get me to talk. She really is a nice woman. She'll understand one day. Everyone will." Now she raised herself up on her elbow to match his height, looking into his blue eyes. "Christian, I have my reasons for everything that I do. I had my reasons for not giving my real name, I have my reasons for wearing my mask, and I have my reasons as to why I chose you and Edge." Her face broke into a full fledged grin then, her eyes crinkling into slits as her cheeks rose up. "Don't look so surprised. I chose you two after a long study. And I made the right choice. You two are the best things that have happened to me since...oh, since I was born, really. But you have to understand something. I won't always be there with you. There's a time, and it's coming soon, where the three of us are going to go our separate ways."
"You're serious, aren't you?"
"Would you believe me if I said that I wasn't in love with wrestling until I spent a good year and a bit with you two? Because I wasn't. It wasn't something that I ever wanted to do, that I ever dreamed doing. I can't ever remember wanting to be a part of this business. But I made a promise and I kept it, and now I'm here. Look, it's been a blast for me. And I love you two with all my heart, but if I had had my choice? I would have been in practice by now, not just wasting away all those years on my degree. I wanted to be a psychiatrist. Not the WWE Women's Champion. Not the valet and partner of the WWE Tag Team Champions. I wanted to be normal, every day Shea helping kids like me." She let her gaze fall back down to the blankets that covered him and that she was laying on top of. "Look, I'm sorry if I misled you. But I've heard rumors lately, and it sounds like a debt I owe is going to need to be paid. And I realize that I'm not making any sense. Maybe that painkiller is finally kicking in."
Christian frowned, reaching a hand forward to tuck her long blonde hair behind her ear. "I didn't think the doctor's gave you any in the hospital."
"They didn't." Shea grinned at him suddenly and wormed her way under the covers, settling herself against the pillow. "Your darling older brother gave me one when he saw that I couldn't sleep. Well, he gave me a handful, really. I just took the second one before coming to see you." Her smile dropped as quickly as it had appeared and she reached for his hand, entwining her fingers with his. "I don't think I'm gonna be here much longer, so do you mind if I...you know..."
His answer was to lie back against his pillows and reach for her again, listening as she sighed once she settled herself against his broad shoulder again, not releasing her hold on his hand. No, he didn't mind in the least.
At Edge's insistence, her foot was propped up on the table, a throw pillow under her ankle as she relaxed against the back of the couch, reaching for the bowl of popcorn that he handed her. "You know, this is happening far too often."
"Popcorn?" the tall blond man asked, before climbing onto the seat beside her, putting his own feet on the table, a can of soda in one hand.
"No. Us watching RAW from the comfort of our own couch," she told him dryly, before throwing a kernel of popcorn in her mouth. He snickered and leaned forward, shouting for his younger brother, causing her to jump. With a smirk and a wink, he settled back in his seat, watching as she shook her head. Christian appeared seconds later, his arms full with the mass of black and white fur that they jokingly referred to as their team mascot, the five year old cat named Oreo that they had picked out at the pound. He let the cat drop back onto the floor with a thump and a shake of the tail, before settling itself directly under Edge's legs.
"I swear, the damned cat is a masochist," he grumbled, staring down the yellow eyes that turned in his direction. "Yes, I'm talking about you, you big waste of a fur ball."
Christian smirked as he sat on the other side of Shea, reaching for a handful of popcorn once he brushed the loose cat hair off of himself. "And yet, who is the one that keeps their bedroom door open until the cat decides to settle in for the night with him? No, it wouldn't be you."
Although all three of them would have preferred to be at the show, performing for the crowd and defending their titles, they were at least somewhat mollified as they watched the show take place on the wide screen television set. Watching the show, as Shea had learned during her last ankle injury, was somewhat amusing, especially with the personality differences in the two brothers. Christian had more of an inclination to grumble and mutter at the people he didn't like, nodding his head and smirking when something went the way they liked. Edge, on the other hand...well, Edge acted like a true fan of the WWE. He tossed handfuls of popcorn at the television screen at anyone he didn't like, made comments that the other two blushed at during a bra and panties match, and went as far as throwing his empty soda can when the Hardys and Lita were shown, especially when Lita made a promise to unmask the women's champion, Myst. "Oh, please," Shea had said, rolling her eyes. The black leather mask was something that was often discussed backstage, since it seemed like no one could possibly untie and take it off the woman. No one was quite sure what type of knot she used on it to keep it in place, but so far, anyone who tried met failure and usually a boot to the face for their efforts.
But it was the end of the show that made them all stare at the television screen, not really able to comprehend what was happening. Shea's cell phone had given its usual double chirp, letting them know that someone was calling her. Edge narrowed his eyes as he handed it over to her from the coffee table. From time to time, she would receive a phone call from someone who wasn't in her phone's directory, therefore not giving them a name, and she always went into another room to speak to them. This time, most likely due to her ankle, she stayed sitting between the two, talking during the last commercial break. "Hey," she said, listening to the other person for a moment. "Yeah, no. It's fine; it's not sprained or anything. The doctor said that two weeks of rest should do it, and I'll be back to one hundred percent."
Edge looked over at his brother above the woman's head, giving him a raised eyebrow at the tone of voice Shea used. They were both used to hearing that low voice, damned near a whisper, coming from her, that hearing her sound cheerful as she chatted with the other person was just strange. She and her mystery caller continued to catch up while the show came back on the air. Finally, it was Christian poking her in the arm that made her quiet down and look up at the screen.
Just in time to see Vince McMahon welcome Eric Bischoff onto the stage and hug him.
His enemy. Actually put his arms around him and hug him.
"Holy fucking hell," she whispered, while Edge shouted something similar. "Yeah, no. I just saw-" She broke off and nodded a few times. Even though the show was over, she couldn't take her eyes away from the screen. "No, I completely understand. You're right; it's time. Did you want to start setting it up for me? I appreciate it." She laughed suddenly, harshly, causing both men to look at her funny. "I appreciate it, I really do. I guess I'll see you soon. Yeah, take care."
Shea closed her phone and then her eyes, bringing a hand up to massage her brow, as if a sudden headache had settled in. Finally, she opened them and looked from brother to brother. "Uh...guys? I think we'd better talk."
Next Chapter >> Chapter Two