Title: Not Her

Author: Kora

E-mail: KrazyKora@aol.com or WinterViolet24@aol.com

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: The following characters belong to WWE and all the people and companies who deal with all that legal stuff. I am simply using the characters for my own twisted enjoyment.

Author's Note: Based on the characters of Stone Cold Steve Austin and Trish Stratus, not the actual people themselves. I’m pretty proud of this fic as I really enjoyed writing Austin more than I thought I would. Hope you all like it!

 

-------------------------------------------------------------

 

I should have gone to Smackdown.

 

Steve Austin found himself thinking this thought almost everyday. It came in his head when he first woke up, when he was driving to work, when he was in the ring or exercising. The thought would come to him unbridled and overbearing.

 

He should have gone to Smackdown.

 

He didn’t think this because of Bischoff and his motley crew of thugs who consistently threatened him. He didn’t think this because he had to put up with the Rock, whose egotistical, big head was suffocating everyone and everything in its path. He didn’t even think it because he felt Smackdown was the better brand or some such bull like that.

 

No. He thought it because of her.

 

Because of Trish Stratus.

 

Thanks to her Austin found himself constantly shaking his head and thinking he should have gone to Smackdown. He had been somewhat successful in avoiding her. He thought that maybe if he did, the pain would go away. But every now and then he wasn’t so lucky. He’d be walking down a hallway, turn a corner, and there she’d be.

 

It was even worse when he came up from behind her. Because then he wouldn’t see her face. He would only see a mop of dirty blonde hair and he’d mistake her for someone else. He’d see that hair and a thrill would shoot down his spine. Then it would settle there and span out to a creeping, shallow pain.

 

Because realization would settle in.

 

It was Trish Stratus he was looking at, her blonde hair, not Debra’s. And that realization would rack through him. Cut him to the bone worse than any blow he’d taken in his entire, rotten life. Because deep down inside, he so desperately wanted it to be Debra. That’s why he felt the thrill, that’s why when it wasn’t her he was so disappointed.

 

Trish wasn’t even close to being Debra, they didn’t look the same, they were a different height, different weight but it didn’t matter. Austin would look at her and he would see his wife. Or rather, his ex-wife. And that truth too, ripped him apart.

 

And it wasn’t like she was helping matters any. She’d wear her cowboy hat and long trenchcoat and sometimes her voice even seemed to hold a southern accent even though she was from Canada-Canada for God’s sake! Still, the voice was there, that soothing soft tone that was so similar to Debra’s that he found himself sinking down into the depths of a depression he wasn’t even aware he had been capable of. It seemed like such a wussy thing to do. He wasn’t a crybaby, wasn’t some sniveling thing like those other wimps out there and yet he found himself falling into it anyway.

 

And since she reminded him of Debra, he found himself avoiding her, as if he were frightened. It wasn’t that he was scared. Stone Cold Steve Austin, the Texas Rattlesnake, wasn’t afraid of anything. But he was...cautious. Cautious because of the emotions she stirred, the memories she brought, the woman she represented. It wasn’t her fault, he knew that, but he found himself growing increasingly frustrated with her. Angry. He wanted her to change, to not look so much like the woman he’d wronged. The woman he’d lost.

 

He wanted to grab her, shake her, tear away at that pretty hair but he restrained himself for the same reason he avoided her. He couldn’t touch her, couldn’t stand to see her, be near her because in his mind he kept seeing Debra. Kept feeling like she was there. Having her near by always calmed him, made him feel less...alone.

 

Still he knew he had to find some way around it. Some cure but there just didn’t seem to be one. He knew that maybe if he talked to Trish he’d get over it, he’d see the truth-Trish was not Debra. They were completely different-hell, he’d known Trish for a long time, even back when Debra was still his wife, and this hadn’t been a problem.

 

Well, not entirely...

 

There had been times. A few times in fact, in the past, where he had mistaken her for Debra. He’d walk up behind her, his fingers reaching out and tickling her sides and instead of his wife turning to look at him it was Trish with stunned eyes, outrage on her features as she’d gasp, "Excuse me!”

 

Austin would look at her startled, knowing he should apologize but instead, embarrassed, he’d turn to irrational anger and growl something like, “Thought you were Debra. My mistake. But then, how I can mistake your blow-up doll body for hers I’ll never know.”

 

Then Trish would shoot him a disgusted look and he’d charge off and it’d be over. Done. But now, now things were different. He was different. His walking out, his time away, the ordeal with Debra, it had changed him. He knew it was obvious too. He heard the whispers behind his back. The gossip murmured among the others. Austin was different, not as angry, not as vicious.

 

Austin had gone soft.

 

When he heard that Austin would flare up, ready to crack some skulls and then, with his luck, Trish would walk by and the feeling would dissipate, replaced once again with that thrill and responding hollowness. Maybe he had lost his edge but who could blame him? Without Debra, what was there to fight for? So he had changed, but he wasn’t the only one who’d changed. Trish had changed too. Hell, it was another reason he couldn’t be mad with her, couldn’t blame her for her passing resemblance to Debra.

 

Trish was strong now, passionate. She was no longer content to be mere eye-candy. She had gone beyond it, proved them all false. She was more than just a pair of great tits and a pretty face now, she was a fighter. She had excelled past that place where girls like Torrie Wilson and Terri still resided. She had learned, trained-she was actually a pretty decent wrestler now. Competent. She had won the women’s belt and hell, she’d earned it. Deserved it. She was pushing to make the Women’s division something to talk about. Something more than bra and panties matches.

 

And while he’d never admit it aloud, he liked that. He admired it. There was nothing he liked more than a fighter. Than an underdog who came up and defied the odds, pushed past the authority and the nay-sayers. She had done it because she had wanted to, because she was determined.

 

And she was kind to everyone. She didn’t use her feminine wiles to get her way, she didn’t even try and suck up-she used to do those things but not anymore. She had grown up. And now she was just...likable. She was one of the boys as well as one of the girls. Not many people had a problem with her, save Jericho and his troupe because they couldn’t get in her pants and Molly, Victoria, and Jazz ‘cause they wanted to be in her pants-wanted to be her. Bunch of jealous harpies.

 

So there he was.

 

Stuck in his predicament. Stuck with the ever reigning thought that he should have gone to Smackdown, because at least there he wouldn’t be hounded by his memories of Debra by running smack into Trish. If only he could blame her, be mad at her. But no, there was no cure. Nothing to do but think over and over again.

 

I should have gone to Smackdown.

 

_*_

 

 

She’d caught him a few times.

 

He’d turn a corner and see her and then he would rear back, pull an about face as if he’d seen a ghost and rush off. It was a strange sight to see because it was Steve Austin. Steve Austin running away from her. She knew it wasn’t because he was afraid and it sure as hell wasn’t because he was shy. No. There was some other reason. She didn’t know what it was, but whatever it was, it had to be powerful if it actually made him of all people back off.

 

But then, he had changed. It was the hot topic of conversation in the locker room. Everyone would murmur and mumble about it, their eyes shifting from side to side to make sure he was no where in sight. Steve Austin had changed. He was no longer the man they all once knew. He was different now...restrained. It was like some of the fury had been drained out of him. There had been a time when he had been uncontainable, rabid like some kind of animal foaming at the mouth. But now he seemed so...placated.

 

Some said it was just a trick to lure them in, lull them into a sense of false security. Others said he had merely lost his edge-it happened, look at Hogan or Michaels, some would add with a snicker. But Trish knew that wasn’t it. No, there was some other reason, the same as there was some reason as to why he was avoiding her.

 

And she was determined to find out. She found herself shaking like a leaf as she went to his dressing room. She had never spoken to him much. Only a few words here and there and now she found herself walking with determination, ready to throw herself head long into a confrontation that would most likely turn ugly. He would think she was prying, he’d call her nosy as well as some other nasty terms once she was in his face but she didn’t care. She tried to make herself of steel as she approached his door and knocked firmly.

 

At first there was no answer and the weaker part of her was flooded with relief, begging her to flee but she ignored it, knocking again. The door swung open and he stared down at her with those sharp blue eyes. A vein was evident on his bald scalp and it was obvious he was pissed at having his door knocked on but the moment he took the full sight of her in, grasped who was there, that anger dissolved and he look uncharacteristically unsure. He tried to play it off though, growling, “What’d ya want?”

 

“Um...may I come in?” Trish asked meekly.

 

Austin opened his mouth, about to tell her he wasn’t currently accepting applications for bimbos but found the insult dry on his tongue, an image of Debra flashing before his eyes. He shook his head and closed his eyes tightly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He turned and waved a hand, muttering, “Sure. Come on.”

 

Trish walked in and looked around, rubbing her bare arms. The room was as messy as one would expect a man’s dressing room to be. Water bottles and clothes were strewn about the floor as well as some adult magazines. Austin continued to not look at her, his hand still tossing about in the air aimlessly as he said dumbly, “You can take a seat if ya want.”

 

Trish plucked a few items off the nearby couch with care, setting them aside before wiping crumbs off the cushions and primly sitting herself down, adjusting her clothing self consciously. She made sure her low cut tank top wasn’t hanging too low on her cleavage and that her tight pants weren’t squeezing to certain places too tightly. She knew Austin well enough to know that if she gave him the opening he’d call her a slut or trashy or some such thing so she tried her best to avoid this.

 

She wasn’t about being overly conservative-she had a nice body, she felt she had the right to show it off. But she didn’t want to hear from Austin the normal comments that she got from Molly Holly so she tried to look somewhat modest as she faced him, a warm smile on her face.

 

Don’t try to baby him or play up to him, he hates that sort of thing. Don’t dumb down. Just ask your questions, get your answers and go. No point beating around the bush, Trish thought to herself as she waited for Austin to take a seat or speak. He seemed very interested in his dressing table all the sudden, adjusting random items on it as he muttered a few words under his breath. At last he turned, a poker face set as he leaned back against a wall across from her and crossed his arms, repeating gruffly, “What’d ya want?”

 

“I-well, I wanted to welcome you back but more importantly I...I wanted to ask,” Trish swallowed. She found this even harder than she thought it would be. She rubbed her hands together nervously and felt a giggle of anxiety form in her throat as her smile began to shake, her eyes darting about.

 

“Spit it out, Blondie, ain’t got all day,” he ground out.

 

Trish cleared her throat; “I wanted to ask you why you’ve been...avoiding me.”

 

Austin’s eyebrows rose, “Avoiding you?”

 

“Um, yeah,” Trish said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “Why you’ve been...dodging me. It’s like...every time I see you in the hallway you run off. Not that you and I have ever been known to talk or anything, I mean, you hardly talk to anyone, save to insult them or yell at them but...it’s just, you seem to avoid me in particular. Every time I come around and you’re there you seem to...run off.”

 

“You suggesting I’m afraid?” Austin asked, eyes narrowed, scowl in place.

 

“No, no,” Trish said, holding up her hands, eyes wide. She gave him a bright smile, “Of course not, I just...I wondered if you had some problem with me in particular. I know you have problems with everyone but...”

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I didn’t stutter. Why do you care if I run off when you enter a room? Does everyone have to stop and bow to you or something? Kiss that little, pretty ass of yours? Huh? Is that it? Why do you care if I’m not around when you are, if I’m avoiding ya?”

 

“I...well...” Trish hadn’t given this part much thought but when she had, well, she told Austin aloud what she had thought, “It’s just, I would like to know why. I just can’t believe it’s always a coincidence. It’s like I come around and you have to leave and...and when you do you get this look on your face almost like...”

 

The words seemed to die as did Austin’s bravado. His eyes actually looked away from her, his jaw set, a muscle tightening to a tick. Trish watched it in wonder, fascinated and confused when she suddenly spotted a framed picture nearby. She reached out and picked it up, looking at it fondly with a gentle smile, she ran a nail over it, “This is Debra, huh? Haven’t seen her in a...”

 

“Don’t touch that,” Austin said and moved over swiftly to snatch it out of her hands. He set it on the dresser behind him. Fiddling with it a moment or two before facing her again, his expression guarded. Trish cleared her throat, saying so quietly it was almost a whisper, “I...I never noticed. She and I have...similar features.”

 

There was a strong silence as they both contemplated this and at last Austin broke, saying with no little amount of humiliation, “What’d ya want to hear? You remind me of her? Yeah, ya do. Maybe that’s why I avoid ya. Ya look like her and...sometimes you even sound like her. She’s strong, a fighter and you...you’ve been doing that lately. So what if ya do remind me of her. So what if that’s why I ignore ya. Really it’s none of yer business.”

 

Trish rose to her feet, not actually sure of where she drudged up this bravery as she approached him, “But it is my business. We have to work together and I don’t...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“Screw that,” Austin said venomously, his accent growing thicker, “Sometimes people make people uncomfortable. Hell, I like ta make people uncomfortable. Ya can’t please all the people all the time. Ya can’t make everybody like ya and guess what? I don’t like ya, Trish. I don’t like that ya look like her, sound like her and I sure as hell don’t like the fact that I have to stay away from ya because you do.

“I know it ain’t yer fault and I’ll give ya some credit about some things but I’ll be damned if I’ll have ya come in here and bat those eyelashes at me and try to get me all misty eyed. I don’t want to talk about this with you or anybody. I shouldn’t have even told ya what I all ready did, but I did, so maybe ya’d get off my back and leave me alone ‘cause that's what I want. I don’t need nobody, I don’t want nobody and that’s the bottom line.”

 

“Cause Stone Cold said so?” Trish asked with a raised eyebrow, her own arms crossing.

 

Austin shot her a heated glare but she withstood it, even though her insides were quivering as she said softly, “I didn’t come here to try and play counselor. I didn’t come to talk about Debra or make you like me. I came here to find out what was going on and I did so now I’ll go. But for the record, Debra isn’t the only one I have things in common with. I know you’ll hate this but guess what?”

 

She rose to her feet and walked closer to him in determination; “We’re not so different either. You see me hanging with anyone lately? Sure, adoring fans and grabby guys surround me but I’m single and I like it. I didn’t ask to look or sound like Debra, frankly I don’t want to. And I don’t mind if you stay away from me. As you so succinctly put it-I don’t need nobody, I don’t want nobody. I’m nice and just like you made the choice to like making people uncomfortable, I make the choice not to, and since I’ve made that choice, I came to see you. I try not to run away from my problems like some people but instead face them head on.”

 

Austin closed in her, towering over her, his entire body taunt, knuckles clenched, breath hot on her face as he hissed, “Are you saying I don’t face my problems? You saying I’m afraid?”

 

Trish’s nostrils flared as she took in a breath, sweat breaking out on her forehead as she tried not to look away, instead saying as steely as she could, “No. But then, who confronted who today?”

 

Austin looked down at her with such rage that Trish felt as if she would either burst into flames or tears but she tried to stay strong. Eventually he growled, “You know where the door is.”

 

Trish pulled away, thankful that he hadn’t struck her as she moved on wobbly legs, air returning to her as the fear began to recede. Austin stood rooted to the spot, still tight with anger. She opened the door, inches from freedom but found herself stopping, her hand on the knob. She turned and licked her lips, saying softly, “For what it’s worth...I’m sorry about Debra. And if...you did want to talk....”

 

She trailed off, shaking her head and rushing off, slamming the door behind her in her wake.

 

_*_

 

Three weeks passed and Trish had almost forgotten about the whole incident when she found a large bouquet of flowers in her dressing room. Flower were common but these were different. They were daisies and ragweed, obviously plucked from the ground, the roots and clumps of dirt still attached and hanging. They were tied together by a piece of butcher string and there was a note clumsily inserted between the stems. The pile had been left on her desk and she approached it with curious wonder.

 

She picked them up and shook her head at the ragweed. They looked enough like flowers but, of course, were not. Still, the gesture was sweet enough, especially the daises. She usually received roses and exotic wild flowers, never something so simple as daises. Much less daisies painstakingly plucked from the earth itself. She brushed off the dirt and walked over to her couch, taking a seat to set the bundle on her lap.

 

Removing the note with great care she opened it in short order. She expected to see some poor fan’s excuse of a love note, maybe even a child admirer’s scribble but while the words weren’t very legible, they were certainly not from a child nor a fan. She read with wide eyes:

 

            Trish-

 

            Thanks for what you said. Not afraid of nothing. Try not to avoid you in the future. Don’t get a big head or anything (seeing as a big head and your big chest together would cause you to topple over) but you’re not so bad. You do remind me of Debra. Mainly because you have her best qualities. Don’t tell anyone about this and enjoy the flowers.

 

                                                                                    Steve

 

            P.S-I’m serious about you not telling anybody. I find out you do and I swear to God, I’ll stun that pretty Bambi ass of yours without a second thought, ‘cause bottom line, I said so.

 

Trish’s lips screwed to one side at the P.S but she still couldn’t hide a smile. She took the flowers and breathed their scent in with a happy sigh. She rose to her feet and decided to find a vase. Meanwhile, Austin stood outside her dressing room. He had seen all the action take place through a tiny open crack in the door and once satisfied he turned on his heel and walked down the hallway.

 

He felt sort of stupid leaving the flowers and the note, much less leaving them in the fashion he did. Now he looked like some damn bashful son of a gun but hell if he’d give them to her in person. Heck, the only reason he’d given them to her at all was because down inside he some how felt it was necessary. A fitting end.

 

Maybe because it was something Debra would have wanted. No, not her. Trish. Trish would have wanted it so he did it for her. Least he could do, considering she’d shown more moxy by confronting him than many of his peers ever had. By god, she’d even got the last word in on him.

 

He didn’t know why, but for the first time in a long time he felt...satisfied. He didn’t want to say happy because he wasn’t one of those types of people who went around with dopey, goofy grins on their faces that were just begging to be slapped off, but he was in a good mood if anything.

 

Besides, for the first time in a long time he didn’t hear his thoughts saying he should have gone to Smackdown. Instead they said, maybe coming to RAW wasn’t such a bad idea after all.