I'm not splitting this into Smackdown and Raw. Because it's fiction and I can.
Disclaimer: I own nothing connected with the WWE, its employees or stars. I only own the original characters in this story. No money is being made from this story which is being written purely for personal enjoyment, and no copyright infringement is intended.
You know, it's strange. To this day, I'm still not really sure how or why I ended up here. I mean, I know what happened but that's it. I know I love it, but that's another story.
It all started the year I turned thirty. I was stuck in a dead end job I hated, overweight and in a bland marriage. It was like a bolt from the blue the day I realised that, if I didn't do something about it, I was going to live out my life forever stuck in this void.
So I changed my life around. First I got rid of the weight. Got fit. Now, I'm no beauty queen. Not an out and out dog, at least not now anyway. I stand five foot five and my hair is boring brown. Most of the time anyway. I'll never be a skinny little thing. I'm too stocky. Not fat, but stocky. So I went for building a bit of muscle instead.
The next thing I junked was the job. The husband got pretty pissed about it, so he was the last thing to go. We sold everything we owned and I decided to get away. Go somewhere new, make a whole new start.
So I emigrated.
The USA has always fascinated me. Especially Texas. I don't know why, but hell, there you go. So I hauled ass to the Lone Star state. I had absolutely no idea when still in England what I was going to do, where to go. I settled on Houston in the end. Why? The last programme I saw on TV before I booked the flight was Animal Cops Houston. Pretty sappy, huh? I have some family out in the States so I managed to get a visa.
I got there safely, found a place to rent, all the normal stuff you have to do in a new place. I had some money put behind me from selling everything in the UK, so decided to do some travelling before I settled down into the old nine to five here in the US.
The tour was fun. I saw a lot of great places. Where I ended up though was a complete accident. I was supposed to be going to JFK airport. There was some problem, fog or something like that, so we landed at White Plains instead. Ever since starting this whole thing, I've been a little adventurous so I decided to take myself off from there and ended up in Stamford. I spent a couple of days wandering around before picking up a local paper to flick through. I have this strange obsession with job ads. Wherever I am, even on holiday, I'll look through them. This time I found an interesting one.
Travelling liaison officer wanted. Duties include organising large groups of people travelling throughout US and internationally. Skills needed – ability to use initiative and good organisational skills. PR background preferred.
I don't know why, but it caught my attention straight away. OK, I had no actual PR experience but I have done a bit of most things in my time, including face-to-face sales. I decided 'What the hell!' and rang the number. The closing date for applications was the next day, so I slipped into an internet café and re-jigged my CV, before e-mailing it to the address the woman had given me, giving my cell phone number as a contact. It meant staying for a few more days than I had planned but, then again, I had nothing much to rush home for.
I couldn't believe it when I got a call two days later asking me to go for an interview the following day. I had to rush out to buy something to wear.
I'm one of those people who are pathologically early for any appointments. That's why I got to the address I was given half an hour before I was due. When I saw the building I just stopped and stared. There it was, a huge building, and on the front a corporate logo I recognised immediately. The two Ws, one inside the other. I was that shocked I checked the address five times. When I had rung before, the person had just answered with a name. No company, just their name.
I hung around just round the corner until twenty minutes before my appointment time, and then went inside. I was whisked away to a plush corridor and sat on a comfy chair until the door opened. The woman that walked out was gorgeous. Absolutely gut churningly beautiful.
"Ms Baron, come through please." I took a deep breath and stood, smoothing down my skirt, and followed the efficient looking woman into the office.
I hate those psychoanalytical tests they make you take. I'm always convinced that I'll come out looking like some kind of maniac. We talked about why I felt that I would be the right person for the job. I told her about my newly discovered love of travelling, and the fact that I would love to see the world. I like working with people. I am pretty organised – my ex-husband used to say I would make lists of lists I needed to make. That's why it was so unbelievable to everyone that I just took off as quickly as I did.
No more information was forthcoming about the job. I came out of that interview not being too hopeful. At least they told me I would know in two days, so I didn't have to stay in Stamford too much longer.
To say I was amazed when I got offered the job would be a huge understatement. I'm just glad I was sitting down. Definitely not coming up as a psycho on those tests. Everything happened so quickly from there. I got called back in to have the job explained fully.
It had been decided by the higher powers that as much as possible all the travelling for the WWE superstars should be arranged centrally. My job was to travel with them and make sure that everybody got to their flights on time, that the hotel rooms had been booked correctly, that kind of thing. Basically I had to sort it out if anything went wrong. Lost luggage, lost wrestler, car rental problems, anything like that. Oh, and I flew out with them in four days.
Those next few days were completely manic. I did a lot of shopping. I had been travelling fairly light round the country. I called my landlord to let him know what was going on. The rent came out of the bank automatically, so he was happy enough I guess. Luckily all of my bills were paid in the same way, so I didn't have too much to worry about.
The day before I left to pick up with the stars, I was given the detailed itinerary of where we were going, and who exactly was going where. There was also a new cell phone so that anyone could get hold of me if necessary.
It really took me a couple of months to settle into the job. There was often a problem like there was a hotel room short, or a bag had gone missing. It could be interesting at times trying to get everyone out to catch their flights, and the ring rats were frequently a pain in the butt. I thought at first that the divas would be the problem. I'll admit I hadn't been looking forward to working with them as I anticipated them really behaving like divas, but on the whole they were OK. No, it was the guys who could be a problem. I think the worst was when my phone rang at three o clock in the morning. After that, it all seemed to go downhill quickly for a while.
"'Lo?" I blinked blearily at the clock beside the bed. It was quiet for a few seconds.
"We're lost." It was easy to tell that the person was drunk. I groaned quietly.
"Who's there?"
"Me." Very original. I racked my brains trying to work out who it was. It finally came to me. Edge. I find it easier on the whole to refer to them by their professional names. There are some exceptions.
"OK, who else?"
"Amy, John, Kurt." He spoke slowly and in my mind's eye there was a picture of him spinning round slowly, pointing to each of them in turn.
"Why did you call me?" I knew I was whining, but couldn't help it.
"No-one else would answer their phone." So, I'm a mug who never switches her phone off. "We can't remember the name of the hotel." Honestly, head meet wall. Several times. After getting him to describe to me where they were, I pulled on some clothes quickly and went down to reception. The night concierge called a taxi for me, and we headed for the bar they had named.
They were a pretty sorry sight when we pulled up beside them. Sat on a bench outside this bar. Amy was asleep and the other three were sitting there cross-eyed with drink. Quickly bundling them into the cab, our pitiful party went back to the hotel. After depositing them into the right rooms, I made it back to my room and crashed on the bed. The clock read five fifteen. I had to get up in forty-five minutes and knew I would never get back to sleep. Sighing, I pulled myself back up and got in the shower.
Just over an hour later, I was ticking names off the list as people got in the cars to go to the airport. I couldn't help a small chuckle as the four from earlier that morning winced and groaned their way past me. The feeling of sympathy didn't last too long. I was absolutely shattered myself.
Finally it looked like everyone had passed through. I did a quick scan of the list to double check, pausing when I came to a line that hadn't been checked. Looking across to see who it was, I froze.
Obviously most of these guys are big. And some can be quite intimidating. Some are temperamental and require careful handling at times. Dave Batista for instance has a foul temper sometimes, although he is usually OK. One of them, quite frankly, scared the hell out of me. And no prize for guessing that it was him that hadn't shown.
Of course, I had loved watching him wrestle for years. He had always been one of my favourites in fact. But in the flesh, I found him more than a little overwhelming. Sure, Big Show is bigger, but very easygoing. This guy, well, I hadn't had anything to do with him and liked it that way.
Frowning to myself, I went to reception and checked with them. He hadn't been seen. Taking a deep breath, I realised that there was nothing for it. I was going to have to fetch him. Reluctantly, I got in an elevator and headed for his room.
Standing outside the door, I took another deep breath before glancing at my watch. Time was running out and there could be no more stalling. Trying to stop my hands shaking, I knocked on the wood. There was no reply. Knocking again, I called out as well.
"Taker?" Still nothing from inside the room. "Mr Calaway?" Now convinced that he wasn't there, I thumped the door. "God damn it, where are you?" Five seconds later, the door was wrenched open. Falling back a step, I took in the broad chest stood right in front of me and gulped.
"What do you want?" he growled.
"Uh, well…" I stammered. He crossed his arms in front of that huge chest and looked at me. "You're going to miss the flight," I managed to force out eventually. "All the others have gone already."
"Yeah, well, I'm not ready." He turned away from me, striding back through the room. I stayed frozen where I was. That was the closest I had ever been to him, and it just made it worse. To be brutally honest, he terrified me. However, I had to do my job and get him to the next place.
"Er, would you like me to try and get you on a later flight?" He grunted. Taking that as a yes, I dug out the flight information and called to see what I could sort out. After hanging up the call, I stepped back to the still open door and knocked again. Hearing muffled swearing, I gathered the courage to take two steps inside the door and cleared my throat.
"Well?" He came into my field of vision suddenly from the side and I jumped. I swear my feet nearly left the ground.
"Oh! Er, I got you on the two o clock flight." Damn, now I was blushing. That always happens to me. I colour up at the drop of a hat.
He nodded. "Well, you'd better run along then. Don't want to miss the flight yourself now, do ya?"
"Actually, I'm on the afternoon flight as well."
"Fallin' down on the job already?" He chuckled, although it soon stopped. The flash of normal seeming behaviour startled me.
"No, I just have something personal I need to sort out, and I've arranged Tara to cover the other end of this flight. Oh!" How to sound intelligent, huh? I was not normally this dense sounding, but he affected me like that. Realising what I'd forgotten I stepped back outside the door to ring Tara and let her know that she would be missing one on that flight. As I pressed the 'end' button on the phone I glanced back over my shoulder into the room. Taker was just standing in the middle of the floor, seemingly staring at nothing.
I've always been one of those people that hate to see others in any kind of pain. I suppose it was that part of me that turned me around and stepped back into that room. I don't remember doing it, but suddenly I was standing in front of him.
"Are you OK?" His attention was jerked to my face when I spoke. That was the first time I really saw his eyes. Green, piercing and, at that moment, looking so very tired.
"What?" he mumbled quietly.
"You look worn out." Underneath that endless steady stare my nerves began to return. I was sure he was going to shout at me and my body tensed, ready to run away. Not a very professional thought, but very good for self-preservation.
He opened his mouth and I braced myself to get a mouthful of abuse. Like I said before, I had not had anything to do with him, apart from a quick hello at one point in passing. I have no idea why I was so scared. Well, that's not really true. With a lot of them, it's easy to separate the ring persona with the people they become outside. With him, I couldn't see past the hard man image. I didn't think there was anything but the hard man in there.
We stood there for a few seconds, his mouth open and my eyes screwed shut. Eventually he just sighed.
"Yeah, I guess I am."
"Oh." I risked opening one eye and saw his huge shoulders slump and his gaze return to the floor.
"How old do you think I am?" he burst out suddenly.
"Well, " I said, crossing my arms, "That would be a bit of a pointless question. I know you are forty, forty-one in March."
He turned away, but I still heard what he muttered. "Maybe I should retire."
"Retire? You? Why? You're still up there. Still popular. Still athletic enough."
He spun on his heels to face me and those eyes fixed on me again. Slowly he moved across the room and sank on the end of the bed. Staring blankly ahead he spoke reluctantly.
"My wife wants me to retire. Well, wanted, anyway. When I didn't want to, she threatened to divorce me. I got so sick of her talking about nothing else I filed the papers. Irreconcilable differences. She didn't contest it."
"I see," I replied quietly.
"What the hell do you mean, 'I see'".
I walked across the carpet and sat on the corner of the bed. I was feeling braver, but still stayed some distance away from him.
"Same reason as went on my divorce papers. Was it recent?"
"Six months." Ouch. That long and he was still in this kind of a state? "I don't want her back but…" It seemed he felt the urge to talk. I wasn't sure why he was talking to me, but maybe I was disconnected enough from the whole thing. Most of the other wrestlers had probably met his ex-wife, but I hadn't. He took a deep breath. "Ever since then I don't know what to do. How to move on. Maybe I am getting too old."
"Hey," I said brightly, "Stick one of those tattooed arms out the arena door one evening, you'll get just as many rats swarming round you as the other guys do." A helpless giggle left my throat as he rolled his eyes. "Seriously, you should try to have some fun. Kick back, relax and what happens, happens. I've been there."
That green glint shone from the corner of his eye as he looked at me. "What do you do for fun?"
"This," I replied, pointing at the stack of papers beside me on the bed. Trying unsuccessfully to smother a huge yawn I continued. "Rescuing lost, drunk wrestlers at three o clock in the morning. I'm sorry to cut and run, but if I don't get some coffee I'll never make it to my appointment, let alone onto that plane. See you, Taker."
"Mark," he said suddenly as he stood. I just stared at him dumbly. "My name is Mark. You might as well use it. See you on the plane?"
"I doubt it," I smiled as I picked up the papers from the bed. "Stars fly business class, staff fly coach."
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the hotel restaurant with my hands wrapped around the biggest coffee on the menu. My mind was freewheeling, and I found myself contemplating the colour green.
My appointment was a trip to a doctor. Over the past few years I've tried coming off the pill, but the mood swings are in no way worth it. My blood pressure was up, but I blamed the latte. After getting the prescription filled it was time to head to the airport.
The flight was three hours long, from San Diego to Seattle. After take-off, I'd just started to get settled with a book and some music when a stewardess approached me.
"Please collect all of your belongings and follow me." I did as I was asked, confused, and trotted along behind her up the plane. Swinging through a curtain, the plane suddenly seemed wider. So this was what business class looked like.
I was still confused as she led me further up towards the front of the cabin until the stewardess indicated with an arm that we had reached our destination. Stepping level with the seat I looked down and met green eyes again.
"Is there a problem?"
"Yeah. I'm bored." And then he grinned up at me. "Sit down and talk to me."
It wasn't something that had been listed on the job description, but then I supposed it came under the headings of preventing any problems if at all possible. I'll admit also to being curious about this man. He had been going through a tough time, which had probably made him seem far more intimidating. Although he was quite intimidating enough, just by the sheer size of him. That didn't get any less noticeable as I stowed my hand luggage and sank down onto the seat next to him. He plucked the paperback novel I had been reading out of my hand and glanced at the cover.
"Stephen King, Huh?"
"Yeah. My favourite author. So, what would you like to talk about, er…?"
"Mark," he prompted.
"Yeah, sorry." I felt the blush starting on my neck. "I'm still finding it quite hard. I've watched wrestling for years, and now I'm around all these people I've watched on TV. It's taking a bit of getting used to."
"Hmm," he rumbled. "So what was that earlier about rescuing lost wrestlers?" He seemed amused by the story and that grin surfaced again. "So what do you really do for fun? What do you like?"
"Well, I haven't had much time since I left the UK. I like fast bikes, big trucks and loud music. Horse riding, although I haven't had a go at western yet. Reading, movies. I'm game to have a go at pretty much anything." It was hard to ignore the raised eyebrow at that point, but I did my best. I really wanted to ask him some questions, but didn't feel brave enough. We sat in silence for a while, before Mark asked me another question.
"What does your man think about your job?"
I laughed. "No man. I don't have the time or the inclination." That eyebrow came up again.
"Your woman then?" My jaw dropped. Then I saw the little smirk he had on his face and realised he was teasing.
"That's not what I meant! Travelling so much means I don't have time to meet someone. And to be quite honest I have no interest in meeting Joe Ordinary. Been there. Most days I don't have to go too far to get some eye candy anyway." I stopped suddenly. I was obviously starting to relax in his company but still didn't want to embarrass myself.
"Eye candy?"
I shrugged, trying to pass it off as a casual comment. Mark tilted his head to one side. I had the feeling that whatever was coming could be a minefield for me. "So, who's your favourite wrestler then?"
Yep, there it was. Possibly the one question that was most awkward for me to answer honestly. In all my years as a fan of wrestling, Taker had been the one to get me shouting at the TV screen. If ever he was on, I'd get to watch the match come hell or high water. I thought quickly.
"Oh, you know, it changes all the time." A weak answer, I know but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.
"Right now."
"Well, purely as a fan… I've always had a bit of a soft spot for Shawn Michaels. He's usually the underdog as he's not so big. On the whole I prefer to watch the big powerful guys. Batista, Kane, big guys like that."
"Oof, I'm hurt."
"Yeah well, don't fret," I muttered. "You're on the list as well." A smug look spread across his face. I have never been so glad as I was then to hear my phone ring.
"Hey Tara. What's up?"
"Jade, we have a problem. There's a bag missing this end."
"Great. It would be when I'm not there. Uh, whose is it?"
"You won't like it. It's Dave Batista's."
"Please tell me it's not his favourite suit again? He went nuts last time."
"I'm afraid it is."
"OK, we're about two hours away. Can you get everyone off to the hotel, and tell him I'll sort it as soon as I get to the airport. I'm sorry Tara. I hoped this one would go smoothly." I pressed the end button and let my head fall back onto the seat.
"Problem?" came the deep voice from beside me.
"One of Batista's bags is missing. He's got a promo to film in the morning and I'll just bet he was planning on wearing that suit. That's the second time it's happened. He went nuts last time."
"Last time?"
"His bag went to Springfield Missouri instead of Springfield Illinois. It took a long time for my eardrums to recover from that. This time can only be worse." I looked over to see him flicking through the book of short stories I had been reading. Heaving a deep sigh, I continued. "I think that once this is sorted, I'm going to go to the hotel and sleep until it's time to get on the plane again."
He glanced up. "You not coming to the taping?"
"I don't very often. I'm planning on what is probably the longest hottest shower known to man, and then crashing out in front of the TV for the next couple of nights. And hoping desperately that no more people get drunk and lost!"
"When did you get divorced?" The change of subject threw me.
"About four months ago. It all came through a couple of weeks before I came over here."
"You don't seem too cut up about it."
"I'm not. It just didn't work."
"What was wrong with him?"
I considered for a moment. "Nothing. He was utterly perfect. Every mother's dream for a son-in-law. Never did a thing wrong. He was totally… nice."
"Doesn't sound like much of a problem."
My temper flared a bit as I heard echoes of my mother in what Mark was saying.
"Maybe there is something wrong with me then. But I don't like nice. Not all the time. He never challenged me. Everything could be sorted out reasonably. And sometimes I just like a good fight. Yelling, screaming, throwing things. But he was just so damn perfect that if I yelled at him my whole family would get on at me about it, telling me how lucky I was to have him, and I'd never find anyone else to put up with me. I had enough. I decided I could do better with my life, and set out to prove it." It was nearly a speech, and I felt a little embarrassed as I sat there regaining my breath. Mark sat back in his seat and watched me for a few seconds.
"A group of the guys will be going out for a drink tonight. Come out with us."
I shook my head. "I don't think so."
"Looks to me like you ain't getting much fun either. Come out and get to know them properly." I thought about it. In truth, it did get lonely in the evenings, stuck in a hotel room.
"OK." He smiled at me again.
"Meet us in the hotel lobby at eight."
