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Trish awoke with a start, the memory of the dream freshly with her as she sat up and gazed through the darkness.
She pressed a hand to her chest, her breath coming in fast gasps. It had been so vivid, so very real. And that was what terrified her.
She'd seen Christian in her nocturnal mind's eye. He'd begged her forgiveness - on hands and knees, in fact - but she'd refused, blowing him off like yesterday's trash. They were outside, and he'd walked away - but not before gazing pleadingly into her face, his beautiful blue eyes filled with more sorrow and torment than she'd ever witnessed.
And then, he'd gone forward, into the busy street. He'd turned to gaze back at her from where she still stood when it had happened - a speeding car had come and struck him... Trish had opened her mouth to scream, but no sound had escaped her.
She hurried forward, running out into the street, not caring about the traffic or the crowd that had so quickly - *too* quickly - gathered around Christian.
Tears spattered her cheeks and chin, and the little blonde had knelt over him. He appeared to be unconscious, and very seriously injured, but his eyes fluttered open, and he gazed up at her sadly. Three words somehow managed to escape his bloody lips, the words barely audible - but Trish was able to make them out clearly.
"I... love... you..."
Afterward, the blond man's deep blue eyes took on an unseeing quality, his body still and limp. The diva had gasped with the knowledge that he was gone.
Christian had died...!
She held her head in her hands, the sobs uncontrollable and wracking her petite body. Although it had only been a dream, it shook Trish to her very core. Never once in her life had a dream been so vivid and real. And never before had a mere dream had such an impact on her.
She held both hands up to her face, covering her eyes as she continued to cry it all out. She stayed like this, hunched forward, for several more minutes before finally gathering some of her bearings.
She choked one last stifled sob as she came to the realization - one that gripped her with overwhelming clarity.
She was still in love with Christian...
Trish thought about the way things had become for the blond Canadian man over the last few years - particularly since she'd ended their relationship. He'd gone on a sort of rampage several months after - when she'd stupidly dropped him for greener pastures. First, he'd turned on his brother, Edge. Trish had never been able to comprehend that, although the taller of the two had gained a great deal of prestige on his own, which apparently had led to Christian becoming consumed by jealousy. Not that she was conceited or anything, but she had no doubt that the sudden change in his demeanor had everything to do with *her*.
It was her fault... All *her* fault!
The change in Christian hadn't been a speedy process. It had occurred over time, gradually. And she couldn't blame him for it - not after she'd so coldly, unthinkingly, callously dumped him for the likes of Vince McMahon. She'd been greedy, power- and money-hungry, and what better way to earn the things she wanted the most than to strike up a relationship with the boss? She'd thrown caution and common sense to the wind, not caring that the man was married, or that he had the morals of a sewer rat. None of that had mattered a damn. Hell, *Christian* hadn't mattered anymore to her!
Trish held a hand up to her chest, the memory of what she'd done, how she'd hurt him, nearly overwhelming. She choked on the recollection of the blond man's pleas - as he'd begged her not to leave him - his blue eyes full of unshed tears. It had destroyed him when she'd refused. *She* had destroyed him...
The little blonde rose from her hotel bed, realizing she had no choice - she *had* to go to see Christian. She had to talk to him, had to find out a few things and maybe offer him some explanations as well.
She slipped her robe on, belting it as she located her slippers near the bed. She knew she looked a mess from her crying, but to hell with that.
Trish departed the room and quickly but quietly made her way down the deserted hallway. She knew Christian's room was on the same floor and had in fact already spotted him entering the room earlier.
She held her breath, walking on tiptoes as she passed what she knew was Chris Jericho's room, as she definitely didn't want him to know what was up. Although the blond man had an injured knee and had not been at RAW that night, he was still traveling with the company.
She let out a breath, partly out of relief, as she reached the correct door. The slightest hesitation came over her for a beat, but she sucked it down and raised a hand to knock.
Trish waited for several minutes, but there was no answer. She wondered if he was upset with her to the point of not accepting any visitors.
Then, just as she was about to turn away, she heard the door open slowly.
"Trish?"