Title: Torn Between

Category: WWE

Pairings: Lita/Jericho, Jericho/Trish

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. Song used is 'Let Me Go' by 3 Doors Down and is taken from their 'Seventeen Days' album.

Rating: General

Summary: He never knew it'd be so hard to choose.

Notes: Written for the Summer Songfic Challenge .

Part (1/1)

/ … one more kiss could be the best thing

One more lie could be the worst

And all these thoughts are never resting

And you're not something I deserve

In my head there's only you now

And this world falls on me… /

He watched her sleep, his heart constricting painfully. The room was shrouded in darkness but the pale sliver of moonlight cast shadows on her face, gleaming over the tears sliding over her skin. He wasn't sure what she was dreaming about but he was banking on it being about the argument they had had earlier in the night. She had cried then, too. It seemed like he was quite good at making her cry lately.

It wasn't his fault though.

On the other hand, it wasn't Lita's either.

She was beautiful, even though she didn't see it. He tried to make her see it, tried to make her see herself as he saw her, but she just laughed it off even while her eyes would glow with pleasure. She could always make him laugh and she actually cared. Any other man would love to be in his position.

Sometimes he did, as well.

Not just in those moments where his lips were on hers and he thought he could drown in the taste of her, but the moments after, when she looked at him, face flushed, eyes alight. When she turned to him in sleep and her body curled around his. When she said his name, when she smiled, when she laughed. When she was around him.

So yeah, sometimes he did love her.

And before, that had been enough. It had been enough to go to bed at night with her name on his lips and wake up in the morning with his hands resting on her waist.

But then he had started to care and it had all gone to hell.

He had begun to notice the hurt that flashed through her eyes when he didn't respond to her assertions of love before being hidden. He began to notice the little things, and suddenly, they weren't little anymore. He became consciously aware of what he was doing and when he had realised it, he had been shocked.

He was hurting her.

Just by being himself, by being around her, he was hurting her. The knowledge had flitted through his mind, slipping to the forefront when he was around her. The instinctive flinch was in response to the thought, but Lita wasn't to know that, was she?

And so it became somewhat of a twisted cycle. It lead to arguments where she yelled at him, claiming that he didn't love her, a mixture of fury and pain leaving hot slashes through pale cheeks. The worst of it was, he couldn't make her feel better, because he couldn't deny the accusations. There were times when he *didn't* love her.

So he yelled back, saying wrong things, vicious things. And when he could see the glint of tears in her eyes, he would feel the wave of satisfaction roll over him. He didn't try to dry the wet cheeks, but only sneered while the voice in his head snickered with hateful glee. I'm hurting you, and I don't fucking give a damn.

He figured he was hoping that she would give up on him.

Because he couldn't really love her when he was still in love with someone else.

/… In this world

There's real and make believe

And this seems real to me

And you love me

But you don't know who I am

I'm torn between this life I lead

And where I stand

And you love me

But you don't know who I am

So let me go

Let me go …/

He pretended sometimes. Figured if he thought about it enough, wanted it hard enough, it would be true. Sometimes he thought it had to be true, had to be real and everything else just a dream. He would wake up and she would be next to him and when he told her about the fucking dream that terrified him, she would laugh and tell him he was being stupid. Because there was no way that the woman he loved would fuck him over with his best friend. Trish loves me and Christian is still my best friend. They didn't betray me, didn't turn on me.

Make believe. Let's play make believe Chris. You think of something, and it'll come true. Her voice haunted him with cajoling tones, drowning out the sound of reality. Because reality was Lita and make believe was Trish – and he knew what he wanted.

He drifted in those moments, basked in the simple pleasure of being loved by the woman he loved. Occasionally he found himself wishing for those moments, craved them as a starving man did food. He could drown himself in make believe and die a happy man.

When reality intruded, it wasn't really his fault that he became such a bastard, was it?

He was as human as everybody else in the world. He had a right to be a selfish, uncaring bastard if he wanted to. He had dreams. He was allowed to lose himself in them.

So he ignored reality – and the sheen of tears that coated her eyes when he did so.

/… I dream ahead to what I hope for

And I turn my back on loving you

How can this love be a good thing

And I know what I'm going through

In my head there's only you now

And this world falls on me …/

He closed his eyes and let the darkness wash over him. She came to him when his eyes were shut, gliding towards him with an angelic smile on her face. He stood up, pulling her seat out with a flourish and waited until she was seated before sitting down again. Watching her in the candlelight, he ate mechanically, the food tasteless in his mouth. He sipped at his glass, listening to her giggle at the effervescence of the liquid. Feeling his mouth go dry when she finished her dessert, he cleared his throat, his voice husky and soft as he kneeled in front of her.

'Marry me?'

He raked his eyes over her, taking in the details. Silky hair was artfully pinned up, a few bare tendrils left to frame her heart shaped face. Her skin was luminous in the sunlight, shining against the soft white of the dress that left her arms and shoulders bare. She clutched the small tangle of white lilies in her hands as she walked towards him slowly.

The music he could hear became a vague murmur in his head when she stood next to him. Reaching out, he took her hand in his, listening to the man speaking in quiet tones.

'Do you, Chris Jericho, take this woman, Trish Stratus, to be your lawfully wedded wife?'

He smiled, leaning over to kiss her softly. She was looking up at him, brown eyes glittering with tears that contrasted with the breathtaking smile on her face. Her lips were soft against his, skin warm against his hands. He slid his hand across her stomach, revelling in the knowledge that their love had made something tangible.

'Chris, you're going to be a dad…'

Laughing, he spun her around, the sound of her own laughter music to his ears. Fine strands of blonde hair fell across her face as she giggled, squirming in his arms. Complying with her unspoken demands, he lifted her up, suspending her in the air before letting her go. He listened to her squeal before catching her, laughing again.

'Mommy, daddy made me fly again!'

He smirked, closing the distance between them. She smiled in return, sliding into his embrace. Nuzzling her neck, he breathed in her scent as he lowered her onto the bed. He slicked his tongue over her skin, enjoying the sound of his name as it left her lips in a breathless moan.


His eyes flew open.

/… In this world

There's real and make believe

And this seems real to me

And you love me

But you don't know who I am

I'm torn between this life I lead

And where I stand

You love me

But you don't know who I am

So let me go

Let me go …/

Her skin glowed in the moonlight. His mouth was poised over the swell of her breast, one hand resting on her hip, the other tangled in her hair. Her eyes were locked with his, and he could see the remnants of sleep clearing from them as comprehension dawned. She recoiled, pushing him away hastily.

"You fucking asshole."

He frowned at her hissed words, his own anger rising and drowning the guilt. She couldn't have known what he was thinking, so where did she get off swearing at him? His hand snapped out and caught hers as it swung towards his face. He stared at her, eyes flashing.

"Are you insane?"

She glared at him and he could almost see the fury emanating from her in waves.

"You called out her name."

The words reverberated through the now silent room. They echoed through his mind, burning out the anger and allowing the guilt to rage through him. She sat up, pulling the discarded sheet around her body, the white cotton creating a discernible barrier between them. Under the fury, he could see the hurt beginning to flit through her. He swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry.


She laughed bitterly, pulling her arm out of his grasp. When she spoke, the words were hollow.

"Goodbye Chris."

The meaning behind her words didn't sink in until she was by the door, still wrapped in the bed sheet.

The soft white of the dress that left her arms and shoulders bare.

He blinked. She left.

And didn't look back.

/… No matter how hard I try

I can't escape

These things inside

I know

I know

When all the pieces fall apart

You will be the only one who knows

Who knows …/

The house was silent. He should have been happy with the silence. It was what he wanted, after all. No noise, no distractions. Slouching on the sofa, he focused on the wall.

Make believe.

He closed his eyes. Waited. Hoped. But she didn't come. The dreams. The visions. Nothing. Biting his lip, he shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling that the silence he had craved was now oppressive. Trish, where are you?

It felt like a heavy weight had settled into his stomach, dragging his limbs into limbo. He wasn't sure what was happening to him. But there was this unsettling ache in the region near his heart – and it flared up at the weirdest moments. Like in the middle of the night. Or in those moments just before he'd wake up properly. He didn't want to think about the fact that Lita had always turned to him in the middle of the night. Or that he had spent the last six months waking up with her curled into him, her head nestled on his shoulder.

He was a rational person. He understood that after six months of being with someone, you were bound to miss them when they left. Even if you had wanted them to leave. But it had been three weeks since she had gone, and he still woke up in the morning reaching for her.

For Lita. Not for Trish.

The thought gave him enough cause to pause. Lips pursed, he slowly went over the last three weeks in his mind, focusing on the little details he had probably ignored when they had actually occurred. The little ache grew to a steady throb as he realized that he hadn't dreamt in a while. He pondered this fact and then went back to trying to understand his thoughts.

What he figured out didn't make him any happier. In fact, all it did was remind him of an old saying he had always hated, if only because it served no other purpose than to rub a person's mistake in their face. It was still true though.

Because he hadn't known what he had until it had gone.

/… And you love me

But you don't know who I am

I'm torn between this life I lead

And where I stand

You love me

But you don't know who I am

So let me go

Just let me go …/

She was saying something to him, only he couldn't seem to process the words. He was still caught up on the way in which she had greeted him. He stared at her, an internal battle raging within him.

She's not the one you want.

But god, he didn't know what he wanted anymore. Their faces swirled around in his head, melding together until he could only see Trish with Lita's eyes. How could he know who he wanted when he couldn't seem to get his head straight?

She was looking up at him with a pleading look, tears glistening in her eyes. The words filtered through the haze that seemed to cloak his mind. He stared at her disbelievingly, thinking that maybe he just wasn't hearing right.

Because she wasn't telling him that it had been a mistake leaving him and that she wanted to give them another try, and did he want to try again?

He stood there, unable to say anything. His throat felt tight, and he couldn't seem to move. She seemed to take his silence as acquiescence and stepped towards him, bridging the distance. He could only look into her eyes as she pressed her lips to his – and then he was losing himself in the wet heat of her mouth. Moving closer to her, he delved his tongue into her mouth, eager for the familiar taste. When she moaned, he felt the weight plummet further – and that ache had turned into a persistent throb.

She isn't who you want.

He could say that with utter certainty now. Not at all reluctantly, he pushed away from her. While not at all his idea, the kiss had served it's purpose. He was no longer torn between the two women, and he could see their faces separate until they were just Trish and Lita on their own.

She stared up at him with a questioning look on her face. He ignored it, his brain already jumping ahead to what had to be done.

No, Trish wasn't who he wanted. And now he had to get Lita back into his life.

/… You love me, but you don't

You love me, but you don't

You love me, but you don't know who I am

You love me, but you don't

You love me, but you don't

You love me

But you don't know who I am …/

She was laughing. The sound floated through the room, ensnaring his senses. Searching her out, his eyes drunk in the sight of her. She was beautiful. And this time, he was going to make sure she knew it. He watched her turn to him and saw her eyes widen. Briefly he wondered who she was speaking to on the phone, but he quickly discarded the thought as unimportant.

"What are you doing here?"

He didn't say anything, caught up in the sound of her voice. Walking closer to her, he lifted his hand unsteadily to frame her face. He felt the quick shudder run through her body and felt somewhat more hopeful than he had a second ago. Maybe he actually stood a chance.

"Hoping you'll give me another chance."


He could hear the suspicion in her voice, could see the hurt hidden in her hazel eyes. When he spoke, his voice was as unsteady as his hand had been.

"Because I'm in love with you."

The words rang through the room. In the silence that followed his statement, Chris's emotions ran the gamut from sad to happy, angry to hopeful, disappointed to embarrassed. Lita was looking at him, shock clearly written across her face. The faint traces of hope he could see kept him going.

"I know that I was a bastard before and I sure as hell don't deserve someone as special as you are, but hell, Li, I'm a *selfish* bastard, and I want you back."

He shifted uncomfortably, all too aware of how soft her skin felt under his hand. Lita looked at him, her expression guarded. At her continued silence, he stepped closer to her.


His voice was soft, and he could hear the pleading tone to it. Seeing the range of emotion flitting over the face of the woman in front of him, he sighed, turning to leave.

And that was when Lita flung herself into his arms, tears coursing down her cheeks. Alarmed, he held on to her, hands frantically brushing away the wetness.

"What's wrong? Li, baby, don't cry. I'll go, I won't bother you anymore sweetheart, just please, stop crying."


The word, muffled as it was, was audible. He pondered on it, and came to a clear solution. He didn't have a clue as to what she was on about.


She lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled up at him.

"I love you. You love me. You offering to leave me makes you an idiot."

"Oh." He nodded, and then her words actually sunk in. I love you. Oh god. He could feel inane grin break out on his face.

"Are you going to kiss me anytime soon?" She smirked up at him, eyes still glistening. Settling his arms more comfortably around her waist, he decided that her request did have it's merits, the least of which was that he had been craving her since she had walked out on him.

He smirked, and proceeded to comply with her request.

After all, she was the woman he loved.

It was the least he could do.

/… and you love me …/