A/N: I am so, so sorry. This is one of the few stories that anyone actually reviews anymore, and I thank you guys for that. The only reason I can even sit to type this is because my first day of training has killed me. I can barely stand.

She felt as if her soul had been knocked unconscious with a brick.

Trish sat alone in the bathroom of John's Bostonian home. When they should have been spending quality time together, Trish was curled up on the floor alone, the collar of her white terry cloth robe becoming stained with her mascara ridden tears.

It would have been better if he had just went and died, Trish thought. But no, she didn't mean it. If Randy really did die, then she wouldn't be far after him. She was sure of it. But no, he was alive and well…almost. He was almost okay. He was completely oblivious to the one thing he had focused on before his accident.


She should be happy. She deserved to be happy.

And now she wished that she didn't come back to the WWE. She wouldn't be in this mess.

But she tried not to blame herself. This wasn't her fault. She just fell in love. It's an everyday thing, right? She had to place the blame somewhere else, just to stop herself from going insane.


This was all Shane's fault. If Shane didn't rape her, she wouldn't have wanted to retire as soon. Randy and Shawn wouldn't have been begging her to come back. Seeing Shane wouldn't have made her want to sign her new contract. She wouldn't have fallen for Randy. Randy and her wouldn't have gotten in that fight. Randy wouldn't have gone after her. Randy wouldn't have gotten in that accident. She wouldn't have fallen for John.

She wouldn't be sitting alone in a bathroom, crying. Trish felt like the new girl in high school with no friends, and it didn't suit her well.

Half of her wished that Maria was locked in the bathroom with her. Trish could use a good punching bag right about now.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Trish gasped.

Maria sat on some storage boxes just outside the gorilla position, swinging her feet with Mickie at her side.


"I am so sorry," Mickie mouthed to Trish, frowning.

Maria giggled as she hopped off the boxes and onto the floor, landing gracefully on her feet. "You know how you're like…winning the title from Mickie or something?"

"Yeah, I do," Trish forced out through her clenched jaw.

"I'm valeting for Mickie tonight!" Maria giggled, patting Trish on the shoulder.

Trish snapped and grabbed Maria's wrist, squeezing it harder than she thought she was. "If you lay a single hand on me, Maria, I swear…"

"You mean kind of like you're doing to me right now?"

Trish looked at the death grip she had on Maria's wrist and quickly let go. "Sorry."

"No, you're not sorry. You're not sorry at all. But I'm going to make you sorry."

Trish harshly kicked Mickie in the stomach, laughing as she did so. Mickie struggled to get up. Once she did, Trish collided her foot with Mickie's head with a vicious Chick Kick.

But it wasn't enough. Even though they were friends, they were enemies at the moment. It wasn't Trish and Mickie in the ring. It was Trish Stratus and Mickie James.

Besides, Maria was ringside, and she was just as good fuel to add to the fire that was burning inside Trish. She was legitimately pissed off. Mickie would understand this later. It was nothing personal, really, and Trish would much rather have Maria in the ring with her.

Trish bent down and picked Mickie up, putting her in a facelock.

"What are you doing?!" Mickie muttered. This wasn't planned. This wasn't in the works at all.

"Just go with it," Trish whispered back.

Trish ran up to the ropes where Maria was standing just outside. She jumped up so her feet would rebound off the top rope for Stratusfaction, and…

Trish fell.

Maria had jumped up on the apron and grabbed Trish's foot, sending her falling with Mickie crashing down on top of her leg. Somehow, the force of Maria throwing Trish's leg off course flipped her over, and the hook that Trish had on Mickie's neck took her with her.

Trish sat in the middle of the ring, screaming bloody murder. Her leg hurt that bad. Mickie rolled out of the ring in Maria's direction. The ref fell to his knees at Trish's side. Once he realized that she was really hurt, he threw up the X and paramedics came down, carrying her to the back.

"What did you do?" Mickie grunted as Maria pretended to help her.

"Oh, nothing," Maria sighed innocently.

"I swear, if it weren't for the fact that we were on live TV with an audience, or if my job didn't depend on it, your face would be stomped into the ground."