A/N: Just a short little ficlet that came to me after seeing Trish on RAW last night. The Chris/Trish moment brought out extreme happiness, and I had to write this. Enjoy!

Dedicated to all the Chris/Trish shippers!

Chris had been hearing for weeks the whispers about who the guest host was going to be for September 14th. No one was quite sure as to whom it was be—he'd heard at least five different names. Truth be told, Chris didn't expect much. He felt that this whole "celebrity guest host" kick that Vince was on was dumb anyway, so he didn't expect the host for that week to be anyone of actual importance.

If he remembered correctly, he had just stepped out of the locker room and was on his way to gorilla when Evan Bourne caught up with him. At first he'd been surprised, because they didn't know each other that well and Evan had never spoken to him, but the surprise quickly faded away the instant Evan opened his mouth.

"So I guess you know that Trish is hosting the show in a few weeks." He said it casually, as if it was to be expected that Chris knew this already.

The sound of his stomach turning filled his ears loudly, and Chris shook his head quickly, in an attempt to gain his bearings.

"Wait—what did you say?" he questioned, almost positive that he'd heard Evan wrong. It couldn't be true.

"I said that Trish is hosting in a couple of weeks…." Evan's voice trailed off. He cocked his head to the side as he looked at Chris, noticing that the older man's face had turned a particularly sickly shade of white. Clearing his throat, he asked,

"Um, Chris? Are you all right? You look kind of pale…."

"Huh?" Chris snapped out of his reverie. "Oh yeah, I'm fine, thanks, Evan. Must have been the food I ate in catering." It was a lie, but that was trivial at the moment because Evan didn't know the true reason he wasn't feeling so great—and he didn't need to. This was a secret that Chris was determined to see stayed with him.

Several thoughts were running rapidly through his mind; the majority of which didn't make sense and all of which involved Trish. She's coming back. What do I say to her? Do I talk to her? Do I tell her that I'm sorry I messed up? Would she even come back to me if I asked?

Don't kid yourself, Chris thought angrily. There was no way that Trish would ever want to speak to him again, and it wasn't like he could just pick up the phone and call her. He was no longer upset with her for turning on him way back at Wrestlemania 20—it was part of the storyline and he understood that—but he'd never forgive Christian. A lot of people didn't know that a lot of what happened was real—Christian really had tried to "take Trish away", and he'd made no bones about it. He'd even admitted as such several months later.

Wrongfully, and spitefully, Chris had taken his anger about the situation out on Trish. They hadn't been getting along for the past few months anyway, so when Chris learned of what Christian was planning, paranoia overtook him and he assumed the worst. Not even bothering to get Trish's side of the story, he'd accused her of planning to cheat on him. She'd denied it, of course, because it wasn't true, but Chris wouldn't believe it. Harsh words were exchanged, and Trish basically screamed at Chris to get out.

And so that was how it had ended. Chris instantly regretted it the next day, but he just hadn't had the courage to call Trish and apologize—or at least leave a message on her answering machine. He was just too ashamed and embarrassed. So that was that—he went on living his life as normally as possible, doing his job and appearing to be happy on the outside, when in truth he was miserable. His life just wasn't meaningful without Trish. He liked to joke that she was basically a female version of him, and that had been what attracted him to her in the first place.

A slight smile came to his face at that moment. Just when Chris had lost all hope of ever seeing the former Women's Champion on RAW again, he'd learned of this news. He knew it sounded lame and corny, but it was almost as if fate was intervening, giving him a second chance to fix what he hadn't been able to before. Well, actually, it was more like a third chance.

The last time Trish had returned to RAW, back in December, they hadn't crossed each other's paths, which Chris was both grateful for and upset about. On the one hand, he'd noticed how fit she'd become, how radiant she looked, and how happy Trish seemed—and he'd wanted to approach her and offer his most sincere congratulations. But fear had held him back. The way they ended was so messy, so angry, that he wasn't even sure that Trish would have spoken to him. And he really couldn't blame her.

But knowing that, in just a few weeks, he would be in the same arena as her—the possibility that he would be able to see her, to cross paths with her once more—it was all too overwhelming for him. What if he screwed up again? Then that would be it; it was highly doubtful that they'd ever get the chance to talk again.

He couldn't think about that right now. At the present time, all Chris could think about was the fact that he hadn't heard about this sooner. Then again, maybe most of the roster had known and just hadn't wanted to tell him due to the volatile nature of how his and Trish's relationship had ended. Poor Evan had only been around for a little while, so he was clueless about the whole thing.

Three weeks later….

The fateful day had arrived. Chris had, of course, been on his way to gorilla when he'd been stopped by Evan (yet again), who informed him that Trish was here, if he wanted to go see her. Chris made a mental note to either start getting to the arena earlier, or else leave catering earlier than normal so that Evan couldn't catch up with him and pester him.

A sigh escaped his lips as he slowly made his way down the hall. It seemed like the longest walk in the world, and he was both grateful and relieved once he reached the office. Looking up, he noticed that the golden plaque that was always there read: "Trish Stratus: The Hostess With The Mostest", instead of the usual "General Manager." It was typical Trish fashion. A hint of a smile formed at his lips, but it quickly disappeared as nervousness instead set in.

Sighing, he raised his hand to knock, a bit sharply.

"Come in," Trish called from the small office.

A bit apprehensively, Chris stepped in the small room. Upon laying eyes on Trish, Chris could feel his heart stop beating, if only for a second. Her hair was now a rich brown color, complimenting her skin very nicely, and she looked fresh and radiant—in fact, healthier than she'd looked in years. Jealousy overcame him as a chilling thought struck him: she didn't look a day over 30. It was almost as if she hadn't aged any since they'd last seen each other, and yet he couldn't even look in the mirror because he felt that he looked like hell. Wrestling had aged him entirely too much for his liking—maybe he should have taken a longer break like Trish suggested. Maybe if he'd taken her advice, they would still be together.

Finally, he was able to speak.

"Trish," Chris' breath caught in his throat.

"Yes, did you want something?" She smiled that dazzling smile, and Chris was speechless again.

You, he thought. All at once, his mind flooded with all that he wanted to say, all that he'd been burning to confess ever since they broke up, but it was as if his larynx was frozen and he couldn't speak. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead and slowly trickled down his face, dropping to the floor once it passed his cheek.

Now was the perfect time for him to confess what had been burning him alive for too long. Too many nights had been spent alone, wondering, wishing, and hoping. Chris knew it was pathetic, but he didn't care. He didn't ask for anyone to give him pity or sympathy.

Trish was looking at him expectantly, her brown eyes wide and questioning. His mouth was dry and his throat felt as if it would close on him at any minute.

But instead of blurting out the words he'd planned, the true feelings that he needed to tell Trish, he sneered,

"I bet you think about me all the time, don't you, Trish? You lie in your bed, and you cry when you realize that your perfect life isn't so perfect after all because you don't have me. Admit it—every day you think about what it would be like if I hadn't turned you down." He stepped closer. "You still want me; I can see it in your eyes." A hand came down to rest on Trish's shoulder.

"You know, that's interesting, Chris," Trish mused as she tapped a finger to her cheek, "because that's not quite how I remember it."

The man simply smirked.

"Is that what you came to tell me?"

"As a matter of fact, no," the Winnipeg native answered sharply. "I just came to tell you that I want MVP tonight, and don't you dare think of even including Mark Henry in the equation."

Trish raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Chris, you know, I am the hostess, and I decide the matches."

Chris scoffed, but didn't say anything.

"But you know, I think a mixed tag match would be a lot more interesting than just you and MVP, one-on one." She smiled. "So go get a partner, and I will see you later on in the ring tonight." The woman clasped her hands together.

Chris stood there for a second, simply taking in the small room and Trish's beauty. He was standing so close..just a couple more steps forward and he would be able to claim his lips with hers. He could almost see himself doing it—it would be so easy, and he was fairly sure that Trish would give in and part her lips, allowing his tongue access to the sweetness of her mouth.

Thud! The sound of his tag team belt hitting the floor snapped him right back into reality, and he quickly knelt down to pick it up, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Fine. Whatever," he snapped, turning on his heel to leave.

"Chris, wait!" Trish called.

He stopped dead in his tracks. Of course he didn't want to leave, but for some reason, his lips would not speak his true intentions. So it was better to just leave before he did any more damage.

"What did you really want?"

Go on, tell her, jackass. Don't screw up again like you did last time.

"Nothing," he said softly, staring at the door.

"Oh…okay then," Trish replied, disappointment and sadness obvious in her voice.

Chris grabbed the smooth metal handle of the door, turning it and stepping halfway out.

And then, in a split second, the door slammed shut and he dropped the belt that he normally carried over his shoulder, crossing the room to stand just in front of Trish. Roughly, his hands found the back of the woman's neck, pulling her closer to him.

Surprised, Trish stared up into the blue orbs of Chris, not quite sure how to react. She wasn't scared; she knew he would never hurt her, but this was definitely unexpected.

"What—" she started to ask, but was cut off by Chris laying a finger on her lips.

He'd never been more scared at this moment, but at the same time, Chris knew that this was what he had to do. He obviously couldn't say what he was feeling, but expressing it was good enough. He bent down gently, pressing his lips to Trish's in a chaste kiss. Smiling, he pulled away, so as not to come on too strong, and gently pressed a kiss to the woman's forehead. He stepped back, a bit embarrassed, and bit his lip as he looked at Trish.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that," he whispered, that same shy smile still on his face as he inched toward the door.

Before he stepped out, he cast one final look at Trish. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide, but she didn't say anything.

The ball was in Trish's court now. Chris had made the first move toward repairing their relationship; now it was up to Trish to decide whether or not she wanted him in her life once more.

Chris chuckled to himself as a thought came to his mind: he owed this all to Bourne. If not for him, he probably wouldn't have learned that Trish was hosting until the day of, thus squashing his planning time. Evan's persistent annoying actually deserved a thank you.

Maybe he'd take the kid out to eat later or something.