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Lita couldn't keep her mind off of Edge as she made her way to work. In fact, she knew there was no way she was going to be able to think about anything else, and she wondered what she was doing.
She barely heard Stacy say hello as she entered The Stop. Methodically, she kept walking toward the kitchen, her mind in a haze.
"Lita! Whatever happened to you last night?" Chris Jericho's voice finally penetrated her thoughts. The chef stood at the stove, his gaze fixed intensely on her. "Trish and I waited and waited for you. We both tried calling you."
"Huh?" the redhead asked. She raised a hand to her head, trying her best to jog her memory. At the moment, she hadn't the foggiest idea of what he was talking about.
"We were supposed to meet up last night... The double date?" Chris said. "Trish called you and left a voicemail. Then, when you never returned her call, I called you myself."
"Oh, the double date," Lita murmured. Naturally, she had completely forgotten about that. How could she *not* forget, considering the madness that had occurred the prior night? "I'm sorry, Chris... Something... came up." She bit her lip, hoping her friend wouldn't ask her to elaborate. She crossed the room, grabbed her apron off the hook on the wall and started heading for the bathroom.
"What happened?"
The redhead stopped in her tracks, wishing she hadn't. If she'd kept going, she probably could have pretended she hadn't heard him. But that wouldn't work now. Slowly, she turned back around to face the blond man.
"Edge... He got sick," she lied, and she hoped he would buy the excuse. It wasn't *entirely* untrue, after all. "He came over to my place in rough shape, and I spent the entire night taking care of him."
Jericho eyed her in silence for a beat before replying.
"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that."
"Yeah... And my cell phone was in my purse all night, so I never knew you guys called," the young woman explained. She knew that was a flimsy excuse, especially when she had the phone with her now and he *had* to know she'd looked at it at some point earlier. "I'm sorry about that," she finished.
"It's okay," Chris assured her. "We were just concerned."
Lita gave him a small, weak smile for his benefit.
"are you okay?"
She nodded.
"Yeah... I'm fine. I'd better..." She gestured with her right hand, then hurried off to the small bathroom to change into her uniform.
Jericho eyed the closed door once she was inside, wondering if she was being completely honest. He really wasn't sure. Something about her demeanor had him uneasy. She definitely didn't seem like her normal self as far as he could tell.
In the confines of the tiny lavatory, Lita closed her eyes and leaned up against the door. She exhaled slowly but steadily, her heart beating wildly. Tears threatened her, but she forced them back. She felt as though she were falling to pieces, and she couldn't afford for that to happen right now. She had to start her shift and work. Then, after eight hours, she could get out of here and go back home, to Edge.
Quickly, she changed into the pink uniform and crisp white apron. She couldn't stop thinking about her injured boyfriend. And what about Dawn Marie? What if the brunette really *did* have some alterior motive for helping them? What if she really intended to finish the job her husband had started? What if...?
"Oh, God..." The redhead knew her thoughts were completely irrational as she hastily shoved her way out of the bathroom. Her heart and pulse were positively racing, and she felt unbelievably hot all of a sudden. She felt sick, strange and tingly all over. She ran a hand over her face, her eyes closing as she approached Jericho.
"Chris, I... Water... A glass of water - please."
The blond chef stared at her with concern.
"Lita... Lita, are you *sure* you're all right?" He was reluctant to take his eyes off of her as he retrieved the glass of water she'd requested.
He seemed so far away from her, seemed farther and farther even as he handed her the glass. The redhead gratefully accepted the water, but before she could take a single sip, everything seemed to go black. She felt so strange and lightheaded... so faint. But on top of that, she couldn't breathe!
"Oh, my God!" Chris exclaimed, ignoring the shattered glass on the floor and gathering the woman in his arms. "Lita!" He looked up at the double swinging doors in time to see the new waitress' eyes wide as she stared at the spectacle.
"Oh, God!" Stacy exclaimed. "What's wrong with her?"
"I don't know," Chris admitted nervously. "Get Stephanie!"
*
An hour later, Lita was basically back to normal, sitting quietly at a booth. Moments earlier, she'd been made to hold a brown paper bag to her face to breathe into. The Stop had been temporarily closed because of her, and the redhead felt humiliated.
"She'll be fine," the doctor declared. "It was definitely an anxiety attack."
Stephanie McMahon studied her waitress before turning back to the man.
"That's what I figured," she said. "Lita... You can take the rest of the day off. Don't worry yourself. Relax... Take it easy."
The redhead sighed with resignation. She couldn't believe what had happened... How could she have suffered a panic attack? She'd always prided herself on being so strong, so together. And now...
Stacy knelt beside her, her warm brown eyes kind and concerned.
"Do you feel better now?"
Lita nodded dumbly.
"I do... Thank you." Although she hated what happened and even felt angry at the way the doctor and Stephanie were treating her - almost as though she were a child - she was relieved. She knew she should have been able to work to get the money, the tips... But she had to get out of there. She had to go home, to Edge.
Moments later, she got her wish and left.