Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Clara and Clark.
Rated: T
Warning(s): Slash, Past Mpreg, Infertility, etc.

Randy desperately wanted to hurt something. Preferably Seth Rollins.

His head was still reeling from the confrontation moments earlier, adrenaline burning white-hot in his veins as he came down from the high of a spontaneous RKO. Nevertheless, it was impossible to deny the desire to turn around and do it again... and again... perhaps this time on the concrete surrounding the ring, if only to hear the satisfying smack of flesh and bone on the solid, unwavering surface. He wouldn't be satisfied until Rollins was dead.

And all the while, his cheeks flushed hotly. His breath was coming hard and fast and he was desperately attempting to deny the fact that Hunter had embarrassed him out there. Pushing their foreheads together and commanding him to calm down, forcing him into a corner where he had no choice but to take the rest of the night off, Randy couldn't help but feel as if he'd been handled like a child. Hunter had treated him in the same manner he would their three-year-old twins. That didn't sit well.

The other superstars and divas wisely gave him a wide berth, and as he stormed past them, he was careful not to meet their eyes. Because, if he wasn't mistaken, they were each looking at him with fear, yes, but also with pity. They sympathized with him, because they, too, had been verbally torn down by the Authority. They'd been humiliated, abused, disrespected... the list was seemingly endless. Randy had officially joined the ranks of those ousted by the Authority.

But it never should have come to this. He was Hunter's husband, damn it! And lately, Hunter had been acting more like he was married to Seth. Seth was the golden child that could do no wrong, while Randy was the one that they claimed to have faith in, only to turn their back on him at the last minute. And wasn't that what had happened out there just a few minutes ago? Yet again, Hunter had chosen Seth over Randy. Yet again, Hunter had tuned his back on his husband.

He knew that he was in for a verbal lashing from Hunter, but he didn't care. He didn't care, because he was alone now. The private locker room at the end of the hall - one of the many perks of being a member of the Authority - brought blessed silence and solitude. At least for the moment, he could put distance between himself and the situation. Just a few moments of deep-breathing exercises would make it all better.

Entering the locker room, he kept the lights off, not needing to see the room to know where the soft leather love seat was. Plopping down onto the seat, he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. It was only then that he allowed himself to shake as the adrenaline fled his body, his accelerated heart rate coming down slowly and steadily. Now that the anger was fleeing, his embarrassment was becoming much more evident.

The darkness of the locker room hid the vibrant flush of his cheeks, and his inability to control such a natural bodily function only caused that anger to stir again. Sucking in another deep breath, he ran his hands over his face. Maybe it would be for the best if he took the rest of the night off. Curling up in the bed in the hotel room with Clara and Clark was almost guaranteed to bring his blood pressure down. The very idea of it was beginning to calm him, until -

"What the fuck was that out there?" The door burst open, light from the hallway soon mingling with the fluorescent lights of the locker room. Randy pinched the bridge of his nose - he didn't need this.

"I thought that I was rather clear about that. I'm fucking tired of you lying to my face about your faith in my ability and talent, when you're really putting your faith in Seth Rollins! If you don't believe in me anymore, fine. I don't care. But don't you dare fucking lie to me." Randy hissed.

Hunter frowned. "When the hell did I lie to you? I still believe in you, just as much as I did the day that I signed you."

Randy wasn't even looking at him. "I'm going home."

"No, you're not." Hunter tried to meet Randy's eyes, but Randy wouldn't let him. The Viper was already changing out of his ring gear and into his street clothes. "You're going to stick around for the Main Event, Seth Rollins vs. John Cena. You and Kane are... well... Plan B."

Randy scoffed. "I honestly can't believe that you have the audacity to treat me like that out there, like I'm lesser than him, and then tell me that I have to be his Plan B."

"Randy," Hunter approached him, taking hold of his shoulder and squeezing a bit too tightly. "This isn't personal. This is business. Right now, Seth is the future of the WWE. You're the present, but one day, you'll need to step down and let a new face shine."

Randy yanked his shoulder out of Hunter's hold. "You act like that day will be tomorrow."

This conversation was very quickly going downhill. Hunter truly was trying to understand what it was about the current situation that was troubling Randy so much, but, in his opinion, there was no acceptable excuse that would justify what had happened out there. The Authority needed to keep up a united front, regardless of how they felt about each other personally. Undermining that goal by acting on those personal feelings was just plain bad for business.

Randy just didn't seem to understand that this wasn't personal. It was business. Right now, John Cena was slowly proving himself to be more than just a loud mouthed pain-in-the-ass - he was rising to power as a viable threat to the Authority and Vince McMahon was starting to notice. Worse, he was starting to listen. He was starting to talk about putting the future of the Authority on the line and both Hunter and Stephanie realized that this revolution wasn't just going to go away as they'd once hoped - now it could cost them everything. Now, a united front was more important then ever before.

"What is it about Rollins that is making you so insecure all of a sudden? You're acting like a child and you embarrassed the Authority out there." Hunter growled, not noting the way that Randy's eyebrow twitched at the mention of possible 'insecurities'.

"I embarrassed you? Do you even care about how you embarrassed me? You treated me like a fucking child out there and that's fucking unacceptable!" Randy screamer back.

Hunter didn't even acknowledge what it was that he had to say. "You need to learn to get over whatever it is that you have against Seth. You're going to be co-captains of the Authority Survivor Series team -,"

"Co-captains?!" Randy roared.

"That's what I said. Don't tell me that you're hard of hearing now, Randy." Normally, this would've been seen as gentle teasing. Now, it only served to fuel Randy's anger.

"Fuck off, bastard. I'm going home." Randy hissed. The bed was seeming more and more inviting.

"You're not going anywhere, Randy." Hunter sighed, his tone much gentler now, but no less firm. "You're going to stick around for Seth's match, or you're fired. It's really that simple."

Randy's gaze shifted from being angry to being painfully hurt. Was this what their relationship had come to? Hunter stooping so low as to threaten his job should he not act exactly as Hunter desired or do exactly as Hunter wanted him to do. But he masked the hurt with an emotionless expression. The bed, which was calling his name, would have to wait. He would do as Hunter wanted, not because he wanted to, but because he had no other choice. And that, he thought, was what hurt most of all.

"Whatever, fucker." He shook his head and looked away, "Get the fuck out of my locker room before I change my mind."

Hunter smiled, painfully oblivious. "I knew you'd come around."

One Week Later

Hunter stroked a hand over Randy's cheek. He detested the fact that it had come to this, with Randy's arms being held by Mercury and Noble, who were awaiting the order to drag him to the steel steps so that Seth could curb-stomp him into oblivion. His body smarted from being on the receiving end of a vicious RKO, and he knew that this was what needed to be done to show Randy who the boss was and where his place was in the food chain... but it was clear to Hunter that something wasn't right.

Hunter could see that Randy's eyes were hazed over, and that he was struggling in vain to remain conscious. He tried to think back to what could have caused such a stupor, and only one thing came to mind - the curb-stomp on the announcer's table. Randy undoubtedly had a concussion. Hunter could not, in good conscience, step aside and let Seth possibly end Randy's career - or worse. At the same time, he couldn't just back down, not with Stephanie screaming in the distance to "finish him", not with Vince McMahon watching their every move.

And so he turned his back on Randy, washing his hands clean of anything that would transpire while his back was turned. Stephanie took his arm and they began to walk away. When he heard the sick collision of flesh upon metal, however, he couldn't help but flinch. The ref was calling for the doctor and they were wheeling out the stretcher, and Hunter knew without having to look at the Titantron that Randy was unresponsive. It made him sick to his stomach to know that he was the one responsible.

Randy had been admitted to the hospital.

He'd come around in the locker room just long enough to refuse treatment, and then promptly collapse into a motionless heap on the floor. Hunter had debated going to visit him. On the one hand, he was his husband. He needed to be with Randy in this difficult time in order to help him to heal. On the other, he was technically the reason he needed to heal in the first place. While not the one to deliver the devastating curb stomp, he'd been the one to 'okay' the final damning blow.

In the end, he decided it would be best if he went. He picked up the kids (who, while they were overjoyed to see their Daddy, had been expecting Randy and were intent on asking thirty-thousand questions about him - where is he, is he okay, is he home, did he fight with Uncle Seth - on the way to the hospital) and buckled them in, before starting the fifteen minute drive. When he pulled into one of the parking spaces, the twins saw the daunting building and suddenly became very quiet.

Getting out of the car, he lifted Clara up with his left arm and offered his right hand to Clark. They then entered the hospital and went to the front desk. "Excuse me?"

A petite woman peered up at him from behind thin, wire-rimmed glasses. "How can I help you tonight, sir?"

"I need to know what room Randal Orton-Helmsley is in, please." Clara stiffened up at the mention of her Mommy's name. "I'm his husband."

She entered the name into the computer, before responding with a sympathetic smile, "Room 216. Upstairs and to the right."

"Thank you."

It was a quick trip taking the elevator. The two minutes inside the elevator, however, had been hell. Clara didn't like enclosed spaces, and so she had started to scream, and Clark was not overly fond of loud noises, and so he'd pitched a fit as well. There was an older couple in the elevator who was staring at him disapprovingly, and he heard the woman mutter something about learning to "control your brats". Hunter had never been so relieved to leave some place in his entire life.

Once that ordeal was over, it wasn't difficult to locate Randy's room. They stood outside for a moment, however, for Hunter to warn, "Now, Mommy hurt his head really bad, so we have to be extra quiet and gentle with him, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy!" Both eagerly agreed.

When they entered the hospital room, they found Randy awake and somewhat alert. He saw the twins first and smiled weakly. "Hey, guys."

"Mommy!" So much for being quiet. Clara struggled out of Hunter's arms, before climbing up onto the hospital bed to be with Randy. Clark was close behind, coming up on the other side. "Mommy hurt." Clara said, her voice much softer this time.

"Just a little banged up is all. Nothing I can't handle." He smiled, but it was trembling. In reality, their little voices were bouncing around like bouncy balls inside his head and he felt like he might throw-up.

"Randy," Hunter began tentatively. Randy completely ignored him. "Randy, I really think that we need to talk -,"

Randy's expression was tired and broken. "Hunter, I think we've talked enough. You finally got what you wanted - your golden boy is in the spotlight and I'm out of commission indefinitely. The least you can do is let me do what I wanted from the start - lay down and hold my kids."

And then Randy turned away from Hunter, completely devoting himself to the two tiny bodies nestled safely in his arms. Hunter was silent for a moment, before he nodded and took his leave. He could sense that his continued presence in the room would only serve to excite Randy, and right now it was crucial to his healing that he remain as calm as possible. The two children were immediately able to do what Hunter had been attempting to do for weeks - pacify the Viper. And while it hurt, he also understood the special bond Randy and the kids shared.

Randy had gone into premature labor at twenty-eight weeks, and the twins had select the first two and a half months of their lives at the hospital. For a significant time, Clara wasn't thriving, and there was a fear that she wasn't going to make it. Added to knowledge ledge was the fact that, due to complications surrounding the pregnancy, the early birth, and waiting too long to take maternity leave - Randy was infertile. He would never be able to have more children, and so he was exceptionally close to the two he had.

And so Hunter let them be. They could always talk later.

The Next Day

"Mr. Helmsley?" A man in a fine-tailored suit asked. He clutched a manila folder in his right hand.

Hunter rolled his eyes. "I do believe that that is the name on the door, yes."

The man smiled thinly, before placing the manila folder on Hunter's desk. "Mr. Helmsley, you have been served."

The sarcasm left Hunter immediately and was instead replaced by an icy-cold dread mounting inside him. He didn't even have to look to know what it was, but his curiosity was peaked and he found that his hands could not resist lifting the cover of the folder. Inside, just as he had unfortunately suspected, were divorce papers. The icy-cold suddenly left him and all of a sudden there was just nothing. He didn't think that anything could have truly prepared him for this moment. To have gone from such a perfect Utopia only a month before, to this... his mind was reeling as he struggled to latch on to the reality that was on the page before him.

He'd gone through a messy divorce once before, with Stephanie. While they'd both agreed that it was right to end things, it had certainly been difficult with both holding such stock in the WWE and their own personal entanglements. In the end, Stephanie had gotten custody of all three of their kids - Hunter had visitation whenever he desired, but once Stephanie remarried things had become awkward. They remained close friends, but things simply weren't the same. It seemed as if the relationship between the two of them was filled with forced pleasantries and fake smiles. They just didn't know their footing with each other anymore... would that happen with him and Randy?

And this wasn't Randy's first marriage either. He, too, had gone through a nasty divorce. He imagined that Randy had been handed the papers in a similar fashion - out of the blue, with no forewarning. Except there had been a warning, hadn't there? The fight that they'd had the week before. The one where Randy had said that he acted more like he was married to Seth, acted like he loved Seth, while he was still married to Randy. He'd unintentionally hurt Randy in a way that he didn't think that he could take back, at least, not now. But would signing it all away make everything better again?

But, at the same time, if this was what Randy really wanted, who was he to deny him? He'd give Randy anything, and had given him everything. And if this was what he truly wanted, then Hunter would oblige, just like always.

And it was with that thought that he signed his name just below Randy's, ending everything.

A/N: Thanks for reading and please remember to review!