Say Anything

A/N: Just a quick note about this one - not sure where the story itself came from, the inspiration was a combination of my emotions over the Orton suspension, and hearing the song "Say Anything" by Good Charlotte. The chorus of the song says "Don't walk away. I know you want to stay. Just give me a sign. Say anything, say anything." And that got my creative juices flowing. And this is what I came up with.

Disclaimer: As a writer of WWE fiction, I've always found that delving into the Orton psyche was one of the most interesting - he's cocky, he's brash, and he's oh-so-pretty! And while I am going to try to avoid any personal commentary on the whole illusive suspension situation, I couldn't help but try to get into the jack ass's head and figure out what's going on. I am, in no way, offering this as some sort of understanding! Heaven knows I don't own him, know him, or really want to at this point in time. But writing is the best way I know to sort out my feelings and thoughts, and this is my offering on the subject. I hope you enjoy it.

His lips trailed over her flat stomach, descending lower, seeking what he had been missing for nearly two weeks.

"Dave," Trish breathed, her hands on the back of his head as he moved his kisses even lower.

The muffled sound of electronic music played from somewhere in the background. "What is that?" Dave asked, raising his mouth just slightly from her skin.

Shaking her head, Trish closed her eyes and bucked her hips slightly. "Doesn't matter. Ignore it," she sighed. It had been nearly fourteen days since she had last seen her fiance, and she would be damned if a mistimed telephone call was going to interrupt them now.

But when the sound persisted long after the call should have gone to voice mail, Dave sighed and sat up. "I don't think they're giving up," he whispered.

Rolling to her side, Trish grunted and took the phone from her purse beside the bed. "What?"

"Trisha!" His exuberant voice made her roll her eyes as she struggled to sit amongst the piles of blankets and pillows. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Save it, Hunter," she spat.

"Nice to hear your voice, too, Pumpkin," he continued to goad her with his condescending tone.

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling as Dave's lips curled in the beginning stages of a smile. "What do you want?"

"Let me talk to Dave," Hunter commanded, as though she had no choice but to do what he said.

"Call his phone," she responded, her voice dripping with attitude.

"I tried," Hunter explained. "But unlike you, he turns his phone off when he doesn't want to be bothered."

The smugness in his voice made her want to throw the phone across the room. Instead, she extended it toward Dave. "It's your best man," she sighed, as though the prospect of this irritation on the phone standing up in their wedding was the most disheartening thought she could imagine.

Dave took the phone and settled against the headboard with Trish, weaving his fingers through hers. "What's up, man?"

"They suspended Orton," was the answer from the other end of the phone.

Dave chuckled slightly. "So?"

"So, it's indefinite," Hunter said seriously.

Dave's face dropped slightly. It wasn't that he was surprised. More surprising than the suspension was the fact that the punk kid had avoided it until now. But that didn't mean that he was happy about it. Sure, Orton was annoying as hell sometimes, and it was hard to find his redeeming qualities when he was having an infamous "I'm better than you" fit. But they had been friends once upon a time. And he was good for business, whether the Board would admit that or not.

"Damn," Dave breathed, running his hand over his head. Sometimes he hated that Hunter ever taught him the "business" side of things. Sometimes he hated that he could look at a situation like this and understand why, even when most of the locker room didn't want the kid around, they all needed him.

"I know," Hunter conceded.

"It's awful, man," Dave agreed, running his hand up Trish's bare thigh. "Can I get back to fucking my girlfriend now?"

She giggled as he winked, but Hunter wasn't amused. "Dave, this is serious," he reminded.

"What do you want me to do, Hunter?" he asked, a bit of a chuckle in his voice. "You want me to go over there and beat him into submission? Make him write "I will not be an asshole" fifty times on the blackboard? What am I supposed to do, man?" He shook his head. "He's gonna have to figure this out on his own. Orton's an adult now."

Trish couldn't help the snort and giggle that escaped her throat. "Kinda," she mumbled.

With a look and a slow smile, Dave put an arm around Trish's shoulder and pulled her to his side. "Ya know what, Hunter? I think I know someone he might listen to."

Her hazel eyes grew wide as she shook her blond locks. "Oh HELL no," Trish protested as Dave said good-bye to his friend. When he reached across her body to drop her phone back in her purse, she smacked his chest. "I'm not gonna. . . No. . . David, no," she shook her head vigorously. "I'm not doing it. I refuse."

"Trust me, I'm just as shocked as you are," Trish stated as Randy opened the door of his St. Louis condo to the tiny Canadian.

"The only thing that surprises me," he started with a cocky grin as he stepped aside and invited her in, "is that it took you this long to come crawling back to me."

Fighting the urge to smack his face, Trish let herself into the living room she had once known as well as her own. "Where's the wife?" she asked, looking around for signs of Randy's live-in fiance, Samantha.

He moved to the kitchen. "Running errands," he answered over his shoulder.

She watched him from the living room as he opened the refrigerator, withdrew a beer, and popped the tab. He took a long drink, his blue eyes holding hers steady. I don't fucking care how much I love Dave. I will fucking kill him for making me come here. Fucking. Kill. Him.

"So you're the one they chose?" Randy asked finally, pushing off the kitchen counter and making his way into the living room. Seeing her standing in the middle of the floor, staring at him with a blank look on her flawless features, was a little bit surreal. It was the exact same look she'd had the last time she had been there, when he had asked her to leave his house, and his life. "You're the one who's supposed to talk some sense into me?" He laughed sardonically. "You're the great white hope?"

Trish turned on her heels and watched Randy flop onto the couch, his expression hardened even as his eyes danced with mocking laughter. There was a time, in the not so distant past, when she would have dropped everything for him. She would have bent over backwards to do whatever he had asked of her. There was a time when he was like her little brother, a time when he was more. And then there was now.

"What happened to you?" she asked, the question tumbling over her lips without so much as a second thought. When he rolled his eyes, Trish put her hands on her hips, intent on giving him a piece of her mind. "And don't tell me this is how you've always been. I know you, Orton. Better than you think I do. And this bratty kid you're running around as lately is NOT who you were!"

Leaning back on the couch, Randy turned his head to the side and considered her for a moment. She was right. Something had changed. He hadn't always been this way. But he'd be damned if he told her, of all people, what the problem was. As far he was concerned, it didn't matter who he used to be.

After a long silence, Trish shrugged and stuffed her hands in her pockets. "So that's it? You're not gonna say anything? At all?" With a pout and the shake of his head, he folded his arms. "Dammit!" She had determined to walk in there, let him know that people were worried, and then walk out. She wasn't supposed to be feeling anything.

"Orton, do you realize that you're in serious jeopardy of losing your job here? That Vince is about ready to just throw you out on your ass? It doesn't fucking matter who your grandfather was. Or who your father is. He's going to fire you if you don't get your shit together."

Randy slowly nodded and lifted his beer can to his lips again, still silent. Though his eyes remained unaffected, his thoughts were spinning. He didn't want to lose his job. And he didn't want this scar on his reputation. But sometimes he couldn't have what he wanted. And it was that realization that had started this whole mess in the first place.

"And you don't care?" He shrugged again. "And you're going to sit there and tell me that you don't fucking care? That everything you've wanted your whole life is slipping through your fingers, and you don't give a fucking shit about it?"

Seeing her anger brought a slight twitch of a smile to his lips, something he hadn't intended. But the way her face reddened when he grinned gave him a sense of satisfaction that he couldn't quite explain. She had been so apathetic toward him lately, acting as though she could give a shit less about him every time she saw him. Knowing that he still had the ability to elicit a reaction from this Trish gave him a charge.

"Randy, we're not talking about losing a fucking after-school job at McDonald's. This is your dream. And don't you dare tell me it's not that big of a deal to you," she pointed angrily. "I have seen your heart. I have seen what wrestling means to you. And you can pretend all you want that it's not that big of a deal. You can fucking pretend that you don't fucking care. And you can strut around like you're being persecuted and that you'll rise above it.

"But we both know it's fucking killing you inside," Trish nearly shouted. "I have seen you push yourself to the brink of insanity trying to perfect your move set. I've seen you push yourself to the brink of exhaustion to make appearances and shows and interviews. I know this means something to you."

She stopped ranting to take a breath, keenly aware that he had yet to offer any kind of explanation for his behavior. She was aggravated that she had allowed any emotion for him push her over the edge. And she was frustrated that she couldn't seem to get through to him. But more than anything, she felt her heart breaking as she watched him, endless wasted potential encased in his young physique. The possibilities for him were unlimited. All he had to do was straighten up and see it.

Defeated, she threw her arms up and let out a long sigh. "You don't wanna talk. I get that," she shook her head sadly. With one last pained look, she bit her lip and watched as his eyes met hers. "Just tell me this," she whispered. "Why?"

With a sardonic chuckle, he stood and ran a hand over the top of his head. "You know why, Trish," he finally spoke, moving to the kitchen to toss his beer can. When he returned, he found her standing in the same place, staring at the floor. "I think it's time for you to go," he nodded toward the door.

Trish looked up, unshed tears pooling in her eyes. "This is not my fault," she shook her head and spoke, her voice cracking slightly. "I didn't do this to you, Randy."

He shrugged again and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "You're right. It's not your fault. I should actually be thanking you for what you did."

"I didn't do anything," she insisted, the anger beginning to rise again. "And if you're pissing your entire life away because I chose Dave over you, you're more pathetic than I thought," she added, moving slightly closer. "You are engaged to a great woman. I have a fantastic man. We are not a part of each other's lives anymore. By your own choosing, if I remember correctly. If you lose your job over us? You deserve the unemployment line."

Stepping toward her, he ran a hand up her arm and smirked. "You still feel it?"

Trish jerked her arm away and shook her head. "I never felt it," she hissed the lie through clenched teeth. There had been a time when his smile and his touch had sent butterflies fluttering in her tummy. But those times were over. And she wasn't about to open the old wound again.

"Liar," Randy whispered, moving even closer and pulling her toward his chest.

She wiggled from his grasp and shook her head. "No, motherfucker, I don't feel a goddamn thing." Incensed, she turned toward the door. "And you wonder why I chose him," she muttered.

"I do wonder," he said, his tone strangely sincere.

So strangely that Trish whipped around, her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I wonder every day what Dave has that I don't. Why he's the one you chose to be with."

She sighed and watched as he sat on the couch and ran a hand over his head again. "Oh, we are so not having this conversation right now," she laughed cynically. After everything he had said to her, he now wanted an explanation?

"Alright, fine," Randy threw his arms up and sank back into the couch. "You want honesty? You want me to say something? There was something between us, and we both know it. Something that went way beyond friendship." Now it was her turn to be deathly silent. "And I still don't understand, to this day, why you turned your back on that for him. On me."

On legs moving of their own volition, Trish moved to the chair closest to her and sank onto the edge, her elbows on her knees as she twisted her fingers together. "I can't believe this is happening," she started, licking her lips and meeting his eye. His eyes were vulnerable for the first time in months, and she felt like he deserved the truth for once. "Dave and I were already together when you told me how you felt about me," she reminded.

"I know that," he said. "But I also know that you weren't in love with him yet. Not like you were with me."

Nodding, she bit her bottom lip again and tried to think of how to explain the situation. "I did love you. I still do, I think, in some ways" she admitted. "And I really thought about everything you said that night. The night you told me that you loved me, and that you wanted to be with me. I couldn't sleep for a week, thinking about everything you said, everything you promised.

"But what you wanted was a friendship with benefits. You weren't ready to give me the commitment I was ready for," she sighed and blinked back tears quickly. "I'm still not sure you're ready for that," she added.

Trish felt her heart drop to her toes when Randy stood and walked out of the room. They were both moving on, both about to marry other people. But his eyes reflected a heart break she hadn't been expecting. Tears flowed over her cheeks as she realized that she did still care about him. She wasn't in love with him – her heart belonged to Dave now. But she still cared about the kid who had not-so-long-ago been her best friend.

Randy returned in less than a minute, motioning for Trish to stand. "I wasn't ready for a commitment?" he asked. She kept her eyes to the ground as he took her hand and pressed something into her open palm. "I think it's time for you to go back to your husband now."

Trish tucked her hair behind her ear and squeezed her fist tighter. On numb legs, she moved toward Randy, who was standing by the front door to once more usher her out of the house. "Tell Dave and Hunter that I appreciate their concern, but I can take care of myself," he said, his voice low. "And Trish?"

She didn't even try to hide the tears as she looked up. His crystal gaze was filled with pain, confusion, hurt, and anger. "Randy," she started, everything inside of her wanting to reach out and hug the agony out of his eyes.

But he put a finger to her lips. "For the last two years, I have worked through injuries and accusations and complete bull shit to earn main event status and promo time. I have busted my ass to get what I want, to feel like I'm good enough, and I keep getting the shaft. I've done everything I could possibly do, and it's not enough." He shook his head and stood, beginning to push the door shut. "If getting fired means I don't have to watch someone else take what I want?" His eyes turned cold again. "I'll take the unemployment line."

As the door clicked shut, Trish opened her palm, another round of tears coursing down her cheeks. He spoke of his career. But the diamond ring in her hand spoke volumes about a man who could no longer watch someone else with the woman he had loved.

After a long moment of soul-searching, Trish opened the mailbox and laid the ring inside. She felt bad for him. His heart was hurting, and for that, she was sorry. But her conscience was clear. His recent behavior was not going to change the fact that their time had passed, and it wasn't going to win her back. She might have broken his heart, but he had brought himself to this place on his own.

And until he figured that out, she couldn't help him. No one could.