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Trish's eyelids fluttered gently as she came awake, the distinctive sounds and sensations hitting her. And damn it, she was so tired...
Turning onto her back, the little blonde was struck by the realization that, according to the small digital clock radio, it was only a quarter after five in the morning. No wonder she was still so sleepy. But that was of no importance to her at the very moment. She had more pressing issues at hand, as Chris was moaning and talking in his sleep, his voice taking on a very distressed tone.
"Mmm... No," Jericho murmured, his hands gripping the blanket tightly, his head rolling from side to side. "No!"
Trish gazed down at him in concern. She guessed he was in the clutches of some horrible dream. Biting her lip gently, tentatively, she reached a small hand down to him, pressing her tiny fingers into his shoulder.
"Chris... Honey, wake up."
"No! Oh, God... God, no!" the blond man cried in his sleep.
The Canadian diva's heart beat in triple time, alarm coursing through her at the desperate yet hopeless tone of the man's voice. And why wasn't he awakening at her shakes? Shifting even more closely to him, Trish this time used *both* hands to shake him. She slid one hand up to his cheek, gently slapping it, not enough to hurt, but just enough to rouse him.
"Chris... Chris! Wake up," she pleaded, her heart in her brown eyes as she gazed down at him worriedly. By God, there were tears on his cheeks. That knowledge absolutely knocked the breath out of her.
"Wha...? What? Oh, God!" he cried as he suddenly came awake. In the very meager light and mostly darkness, he stared up into her face, his blue eyes wide as they searched her expression.
"Baby, it's okay... You were only dreaming." The blonde's heart wrenched at the still confused look on his face. He looked so... lost. She reached down and gently stroked his cheek, moving her hand further so that her fingers were in his long blond hair, softly stroking.
"T-Trish?" he whispered, his voice strangely hoarse. He continued to stare up at her, as though unsure that she was really there right beside him, in this very bed.
"I'm right here, sweetie..." she crooned gently, lowering herself so that she was once again laying next to him. "... You had a nightmare. Sounded like a bad one."
"Oh, God," he breathed. He was panting, his heart hammerimg so quickly in his chest that he was afraid it might actually explode. His entire body was tingling and afire, and not in a good way, either. He thought he was going to be sick or pass out. He felt hot, his entire body broken out in a cold sweat. "Sh-shit..."
"Chris, calm down," Trish pleaded. She began to get scared at the way he was behaving. Under normal circumstances, a person would awaken from a nightmare and then visibly relax the moment they realized they'd merely been dreaming.
"Trish... Are you really here?" he asked shakily. "I'm not dreaming anymore?" He reached a hand out toward her, and she gripped it tightly with her small one, offering him her warmth, her strength.
"I'm right here, Chris... In the flesh," she assured him. She snuggled more closely against him, stretching her petite body beneath the blanket and pressed her still nude body against his.
"Oh, God," he said again. "Thank God." He relaxed noticeably as she laid her head down on his chest, his breathing and heartbeat returning to normal. He reached his left hand up to his face, becoming instantly aware that there were tears on his cheeks. What the hell...? The dream... It had been absolutely awful.
"Are you okay, sweetie?" the blonde woman asked, her voice level as she caressed and petted his hair with her free hand. "You... you scared me a little."
Chris' heart sank at those words. The last thing he ever wanted to do to this woman was scare her. But the dream had been so horrible. Just thinking about it now, his mouth went dry and he thought he could get up, run to the bathroom and vomit.
"I'm sorry, Trishy," he said, wincing at the thought that any moment now, she was going to question him as to what he'd seen in that nocturnal vision. He didn't want to share that with her. What would she think of him?
"Honey," Trish said softly, raising her head just enough to gaze down into his face. "What did you dream?"
There it was... He knew it was inevitable, but he'd hoped she wouldn't ask. It was too awful for him to tell her. Her virgin ears should never hear such filth.
"Chris?" She petted his long hair again, her touch so soft and gentle. It was enough to bring him to tears again. What kind of a man was he, having such a despicable dream? "Talk to me, honey. Please?"
"I... I can't," he said, shaking his head almost vehemently. He tightened his arm around her slender waist, drawing her even nearer to him, as though terrified she would get up and bolt from him. He couldn't handle that. "I can't tell you."
"But Chris..."
"It was the worst thing I have ever dreamt in my entire life," he told her, a chill going through him at the horrid recent memory. He realized she was still staring down into his face, a wince coming as she exhibited all the concern she felt. "You... oh, God, you really wanna know?"
Trish shook her head.
"Tell me."
"It... it was Christian," Jericho blurted. "He... he cornered you in the women's locker room - and... you were the only diva there. The entire *arena* seemed to be deserted... And... and he-"
"Oh, Chris," the blonde breathed, her head shaking in horror. No wonder he was so shaken.
"But that wasn't it," Chris continued, more tears leaking from his clear blue eyes. "In the middle of it, he... he turned... he... oh, God." He was momentarily overcome with emotion, and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt her tiny hand gently wiping away his tears, stray strands of hair from his forehead and cheeks. Then, he opened his eyes again, gazing up at her with an expression that absolutely broke her heart. "He was me. Trish, it was *me* who... was doing that to you!" he exhaled with a choke.
Trish's heart broke at his words, at the heartbroken, horrified expression on his handsome face. He seemed about two seconds away from going completely nuts and possibly even doing some harm to himself, she feared. It was so irrational. He hadn't done anything to her - at all - aside from be sweet and loving and protective.
"Oh, baby," she crooned. "It's all right." She moved her face closer to his, so close that he was able to feel her warm breath. "It was just a dream. It's perfectly normal for you to dream something like that, especially after what you told me last night."
"It... is?" he asked. He stared up at her almost uncomprehendingly, and she nodded.
"Yes, baby. It's okay. And I don't hold it against you," she continued. "So, if that's what you're thinking,
then just forget about it. I *love* you, Chris... You are a good man, and that was nothing more than a nightmare."
Then, before he could utter another syllable, she pressed further, closing the tiny bit of distance between them and
placing her lips down onto his.