WWE: Unknown Skies (1/?) [Lita/?, 12A/PG-13]
Unknown Skies
By Kyizi
Disclaimer: The WWE, Ghost Whisperer and all related items do not belong to me; only the story is mine. No copyright infringement intended.
Rating: 12A/PG-13
Distribution: Please ask.
Pairings: Lita/Undecided (as per vote, likely John, possible Randy, as John will likely be the pairing in the other fic based on this idea)
Spoilers: All Lita storyline is fair game.
Feedback: Please, it makes me smile :)
Notes: As per this post, this is the first of two Ghost Whisperer ‘verse fics. THIS IS NOT A CROSSOVER! I’ve merely shamelessly stolen the premise of Ghost Whisperer and bent it to my will!
Summary: Lita has left the WWE and set up shop in a small town. She's living her life, helping the dead crossover in her spare time and making new friends. Everything's good and all is well...until the WWE comes into town. When John Cena and Randy Orton walk into her shop, they’re not alone; someone is being haunted by a ghost who wants Lita's help to talk to living. Unfortunately, the rest of the WWE is also in town and Lita didn't just leave the people in the company behind, she left some rather angry and unsatisfied spirits, too...
*
Part One
*
My name is Lita Dumas. I just quit my job, just moved to a small town, just opened an antique shop. I might be just like you. Except from the time I was a little girl, I knew that I could talk to the dead. Earthbound spirits, my mother called them, the ones who have not crossed over yet, because they have unfinished business with the living and they come to me for help.
To tell you my story, I have to tell you theirs.
*
The coffee pot was humming when she entered the kitchen, the room filling with the heavenly scent, and she silently thanked whatever higher being was listening for the automatic settings on her coffee machine. She padded barefoot to the counter and glanced out of the window of her new house, unable to stop herself from grinning.
It was a bright, sunny day and the riot of flowers in her very own back yard was blooming. There was a sprinkler on in the garden next door and two small dogs were sniffing the fence on the opposite side, no doubt able to smell Brady's presence.
She was happy. Lita Dumas was, for the first time in a long time, actually happy. And it felt fantastic.
Still smiling, she turned to put two slices of bread in the toaster before making her first coffee of the day. Inhaling the aromatic scent from the top of her cup, her eyes fluttered closed, only to fly open in surprise a moment later.
"Simon," she cried, glaring balefully at the man standing in front of her. "How many times have I asked you not to just come into my house?"
"Your house?" he cried. "I'll have you know my family lived here for generations! My children grew up here; my daughter raised her children here and now? Now I have to put up with a tattooed, muscled, head strong, rude young woman invading my space!"
Rolling her eyes, Lita crossed the kitchen to get her toast, letting out a sharp breath and dropping it as she burnt her fingers. She ignored the man behind her as he continued his litany of woes, instead focussing on spreading her toast. By the time she'd finished the first slice, inhaled her coffee, put on her shoes, and collected her purse, keys and jacket, she was closing the door in Simon's face and locking it behind her.
She crossed the yard, avoiding the path she was in the process of having replaced, and groaned as Simon blocked her path. She manoeuvred around him, stopping when he called after her.
"You rude, house stealing young woman!"
She turned around, making sure no one could see her and hissed, "Simon, you've been dead for fifty years. Get over it already."
The man gaped at her for a moment. "Rude."
Lita rolled her eyes, turned around and waved a hand over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow morning, Simon," she said resignedly, but even with that, she was still smiling.
*
"Seriously, dude, what were you thinking?"
"I wasn't thinking, I-"
"I can tell."
"Will you shut up?"
Rolling his eyes, Randy swung the car into a precarious turn that, given the speed he was travelling at, had them screeching around the corner.
"Jesus, will you slow down!"
"You're lucky Michaels isn't here, he wouldn't appreciate that remark," the Legend Killer said with a smirk, and hit the gas pedal a little more.
"Fuck you, the only reason I'm wit' you is that no one else wanted to. Not even Michaels had the patience for that. Fuck, will you slow down, Orton!"
"Bite me, Cena."
"I got no idea where you've been. And I don't wanna know," he added when Randy opened his mouth. "Now will you slow the fuck down? I ain't getting jailed because ya decided it'd be fun to mow down small children."
Rolling his eyes, Randy slowed down at a speed that had John cursing his existence, again, and smirked when the other wrestler looked at him like he wanted to hurt him. Very slowly and very painfully. Winding up the Newbury native was a favourite past time of his and he got a gold star every time.
"So, seriously, what were you thinking?" he asked again and John let out a noise that verged on a growl.
"What the hell was I s'posed to do? She was throwin' herself at me."
"And you thought it would be a good idea to tell the woman she was acting like a two bit whore?”
“I didn’t say that!” John shifted in his seat. “Well, not exactly.”
Randy snorted, swung the car dangerously around the corner and laughed when John tried very hard not to squeal like a little girl. And kind of failed.
“Where the hell are we stayin’ anyhow?” John asked, still clutching the edges of his seat and trying not to think about the fact that his life was in Orton’s hands. And under his lead lined foot.
“The back end of nowhere, by the looks of it. Safe to say Vince McMahon was in charge of budget on this tour,” Randy muttered. “Asshole.”
“Never thought I’d see myself agreein’ wit’ you.”
“I’m sure it’ll pass.”
“Quickly.” John sighed and took a moment to scan the town they were entering. It was one of those small, neighbourly places where everyone knew everyone else’s business, but wasn’t so small the whole population was inbred.
They passed streets of well kept, but oddly characteristic houses and entered the main square of the town. In the centre was a large memorial statue surrounded by sections of grass, filled with people sitting on benches, eating lunch or catching up with gossip. There was a small cinema, a theatre, a post office, a few convenience stores, a hairdressers and a random shop just to the left of a produce market that he couldn’t quite make out.
Rolling his eyes, he turned to glance at Randy. “Well, this place is happenin’,” he said. “Wonder if we can get…” Frowning he trailed off.
“Wonder if we can get what?” When he got no response, Randy turned to look at the man sitting beside him. “Cena.” Randy slowed down as the traffic lights turned red and was about to reach out to shove John, when he caught sight of what had silenced the man.
“I’ll be damned,” he said, a smile playing at his lips. “I knew she’d moved, but I’ve only got her new number, not her address.”
John let out a breath and finally spoke. “So that really is Lita?”
“Sure looks like.”
Randy started the car again at the urging of the horn behind him, but took note of where the redhead (well, former redhead, by the look of things) was going, aware that, beside him, Cena was doing exactly the same.
*
End of Part One
*
By Kyizi
Disclaimer: The WWE, Ghost Whisperer and all related items do not belong to me; only the story is mine. No copyright infringement intended.
Rating: 12A/PG-13
Distribution: Please ask.
Pairings: Lita/Undecided (as per vote, likely John, possible Randy, as John will likely be the pairing in the other fic based on this idea)
Spoilers: All Lita storyline is fair game.
Feedback: Please, it makes me smile :)
Notes: As per this post, this is the first of two Ghost Whisperer ‘verse fics. THIS IS NOT A CROSSOVER! I’ve merely shamelessly stolen the premise of Ghost Whisperer and bent it to my will!
Summary: Lita has left the WWE and set up shop in a small town. She's living her life, helping the dead crossover in her spare time and making new friends. Everything's good and all is well...until the WWE comes into town. When John Cena and Randy Orton walk into her shop, they’re not alone; someone is being haunted by a ghost who wants Lita's help to talk to living. Unfortunately, the rest of the WWE is also in town and Lita didn't just leave the people in the company behind, she left some rather angry and unsatisfied spirits, too...
*
Part One
*
My name is Lita Dumas. I just quit my job, just moved to a small town, just opened an antique shop. I might be just like you. Except from the time I was a little girl, I knew that I could talk to the dead. Earthbound spirits, my mother called them, the ones who have not crossed over yet, because they have unfinished business with the living and they come to me for help.
To tell you my story, I have to tell you theirs.
*
The coffee pot was humming when she entered the kitchen, the room filling with the heavenly scent, and she silently thanked whatever higher being was listening for the automatic settings on her coffee machine. She padded barefoot to the counter and glanced out of the window of her new house, unable to stop herself from grinning.
It was a bright, sunny day and the riot of flowers in her very own back yard was blooming. There was a sprinkler on in the garden next door and two small dogs were sniffing the fence on the opposite side, no doubt able to smell Brady's presence.
She was happy. Lita Dumas was, for the first time in a long time, actually happy. And it felt fantastic.
Still smiling, she turned to put two slices of bread in the toaster before making her first coffee of the day. Inhaling the aromatic scent from the top of her cup, her eyes fluttered closed, only to fly open in surprise a moment later.
"Simon," she cried, glaring balefully at the man standing in front of her. "How many times have I asked you not to just come into my house?"
"Your house?" he cried. "I'll have you know my family lived here for generations! My children grew up here; my daughter raised her children here and now? Now I have to put up with a tattooed, muscled, head strong, rude young woman invading my space!"
Rolling her eyes, Lita crossed the kitchen to get her toast, letting out a sharp breath and dropping it as she burnt her fingers. She ignored the man behind her as he continued his litany of woes, instead focussing on spreading her toast. By the time she'd finished the first slice, inhaled her coffee, put on her shoes, and collected her purse, keys and jacket, she was closing the door in Simon's face and locking it behind her.
She crossed the yard, avoiding the path she was in the process of having replaced, and groaned as Simon blocked her path. She manoeuvred around him, stopping when he called after her.
"You rude, house stealing young woman!"
She turned around, making sure no one could see her and hissed, "Simon, you've been dead for fifty years. Get over it already."
The man gaped at her for a moment. "Rude."
Lita rolled her eyes, turned around and waved a hand over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow morning, Simon," she said resignedly, but even with that, she was still smiling.
*
"Seriously, dude, what were you thinking?"
"I wasn't thinking, I-"
"I can tell."
"Will you shut up?"
Rolling his eyes, Randy swung the car into a precarious turn that, given the speed he was travelling at, had them screeching around the corner.
"Jesus, will you slow down!"
"You're lucky Michaels isn't here, he wouldn't appreciate that remark," the Legend Killer said with a smirk, and hit the gas pedal a little more.
"Fuck you, the only reason I'm wit' you is that no one else wanted to. Not even Michaels had the patience for that. Fuck, will you slow down, Orton!"
"Bite me, Cena."
"I got no idea where you've been. And I don't wanna know," he added when Randy opened his mouth. "Now will you slow the fuck down? I ain't getting jailed because ya decided it'd be fun to mow down small children."
Rolling his eyes, Randy slowed down at a speed that had John cursing his existence, again, and smirked when the other wrestler looked at him like he wanted to hurt him. Very slowly and very painfully. Winding up the Newbury native was a favourite past time of his and he got a gold star every time.
"So, seriously, what were you thinking?" he asked again and John let out a noise that verged on a growl.
"What the hell was I s'posed to do? She was throwin' herself at me."
"And you thought it would be a good idea to tell the woman she was acting like a two bit whore?”
“I didn’t say that!” John shifted in his seat. “Well, not exactly.”
Randy snorted, swung the car dangerously around the corner and laughed when John tried very hard not to squeal like a little girl. And kind of failed.
“Where the hell are we stayin’ anyhow?” John asked, still clutching the edges of his seat and trying not to think about the fact that his life was in Orton’s hands. And under his lead lined foot.
“The back end of nowhere, by the looks of it. Safe to say Vince McMahon was in charge of budget on this tour,” Randy muttered. “Asshole.”
“Never thought I’d see myself agreein’ wit’ you.”
“I’m sure it’ll pass.”
“Quickly.” John sighed and took a moment to scan the town they were entering. It was one of those small, neighbourly places where everyone knew everyone else’s business, but wasn’t so small the whole population was inbred.
They passed streets of well kept, but oddly characteristic houses and entered the main square of the town. In the centre was a large memorial statue surrounded by sections of grass, filled with people sitting on benches, eating lunch or catching up with gossip. There was a small cinema, a theatre, a post office, a few convenience stores, a hairdressers and a random shop just to the left of a produce market that he couldn’t quite make out.
Rolling his eyes, he turned to glance at Randy. “Well, this place is happenin’,” he said. “Wonder if we can get…” Frowning he trailed off.
“Wonder if we can get what?” When he got no response, Randy turned to look at the man sitting beside him. “Cena.” Randy slowed down as the traffic lights turned red and was about to reach out to shove John, when he caught sight of what had silenced the man.
“I’ll be damned,” he said, a smile playing at his lips. “I knew she’d moved, but I’ve only got her new number, not her address.”
John let out a breath and finally spoke. “So that really is Lita?”
“Sure looks like.”
Randy started the car again at the urging of the horn behind him, but took note of where the redhead (well, former redhead, by the look of things) was going, aware that, beside him, Cena was doing exactly the same.
*
End of Part One
*