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Trish sat in her hotel room alone, her thoughts consumed by her friend Amy and what she was going through.

It was horrible. No one should have to endure such disgusting, vile things to happen to them. The last news she'd heard was Adam telling her, earlier tonight, that, on their way to the house show, he'd had to pull over to the side of the road because Amy was about to get sick. She'd been asleep and had another nightmare - one she still didn't realize in her conscious mind had actually happened - to her.

The little blonde stood up and made her way to the window, her eyes welling up with tears as she remembered her fellow Canadian's words.

"She said the bastard tried to kill Angelica...that he held her head under water in a bathtub...She said she started drowning...

Trish bit her lip so hard she thought she tasted blood. The hot tears trickled their way quickly down her cheeks as she imagined the horror her best friend had seen and experienced. It was unfathomable.

If she ever got the chance to 'meet' the asshole in this lifetime, she would kill him herself...

The Canadian diva was suddenly startled as the phone on the nightstand began jangling. She stared at it for a beat, then went to answer.

"H-hello?"

"Trish?" It was Jeff's voice on the other end.

"Yeah..."

"Hey, are you all right?" the young man asked, and the blonde could clearly discern all the worry in his voice. It touched her in a profound way.

"Yeah, I'm...Oh, why don't you just come over here?"

"Now? Okay, sure..."

After exchanging goodbyes, Trish again stood at the window, staring out into the dark night as she waited...

Shortly after, there was a knock on the door, and the colorful-headed man called to her from the hall.

"Trish, it's me!"

The petite blonde rushed to the door, instinctively drying the tears on her face with the backs of her hands. Then, when she was satisfied that no traces of the moisture remained, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Jeff gazed down at her, his heart catching at the sight of the diva's tear-stained face. Mascara streaks marred that lovely countenance, and he flinched slightly as he entered her hotel room.

"Trish..."

The little blonde closed and locked the door behind him, and, as she turned around to face him, her breath caught, an uncomfortable heavy feeling in her throat.

"Jeff, Amy had another flashback..." she blurted. She wasn't sure if he already knew about this. Chances were he did, since he was such a close friend to the redhead, but Trish couldn't be sure.

"I know...She told me about it."

"What?"

"Amy told me about her latest 'nightmare' at the arena earlier..." Jeff explained. He crossed over to the small desk halfway across the room, pulled out the chair, turned it around backwards and sat down.

"She was so spooked about it, but...I don't blame her..." He raised his head and gazed into her face with his deep green eyes.

Trish ran a hand over her long blonde hair as she slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, near the younger Hardy brother.

"It...it's just horrible!" she cried, fearful of the tears coming again. "Amy is such a wonderful, beautiful person...She doesn't deserve-"

Her speech was cut off as she suddenly became overwhelmed by her emotions. Trish bowed her head into her hands and sobbed bitterly, her tears scalding hot.

A second or two later, she felt Jeff's hand in her hair, his touch gentle and tender. She cried for another moment before raising her head to meet his eyes. She felt so miserable.

Jeff moved his hand from her hair to her cheek, and it felt soft - and somehow, natural.

"I just feel so helpless...but I want to do something to help her..." Trish murmured.

Jeff gazed at her silently for a moment before speaking again.

"By just being her friend, by continuing to be there for her, you're helping..." the young man said softly.

The blonde nodded but didn't seem convinced.

Jeff moved to stand, turned the chair the right way, then pulled the distraught diva into his arms. And he just held her for a long time...