Uncommon Bond
Chapter 1
Rated – NC-17/MA
Author: Batistafan(given name, given on request)
THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO UNCOMMON SENSE – If you have not yet read the first story, doing so may better help you to piece together the events and characters of this fiction…enjoy!
Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers. This story contains graphic violence, as well as explicit, mature, consensual sexual situations and these would not be deemed appropriate for all readers.
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim to them as they are property of their respective companies of license. Thank you kindly for not suing.
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"Never knock on Death's door: ring the bell and run away! Death really hates that!" – Matt Frewer, as Dr. Mike Stratford in "Doctor, Doctor"
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Dave Batista smiled and stretched his arms, resuming the task of readying himself for his match. It had been a nice surprise, arriving at the arena to find his wife waiting for him, milling around in the wardrobe room chumming it up with her old Smack Down assistant, Lizzie, who was now the supervisor over the Wardrobe Department. Nancy had made the one hour flight to deliver the disheartening news that the third and final sonogram before her delivery hadn't revealed the sex of their baby…who was evidently too shy to let them see. It wasn't that they needed to know, just that she'd wanted to know, that kept them going back for another chance to find out. But after tonight when Nancy had handed him the tiny black and white sonogram picture along with the news that she was just going to be patient, he had found he was somewhat relieved—deciding that he liked the element of surprise—that he would take what he could get where healthy children were concerned and that it didn't really matter to him what the sex of his child turned out to be.
He hung his white button up shirt on a hanger in his locker and slid the zipper of his bag open to retrieve his gear. That was when he spied a blue envelope lying on the top of his neatly folded wrestling trunks. He recognized the writing on the outside of the envelope to be Nancy's and he laughed softly, wondering when she'd had the chance to sneak something into his bag…he knew that it hadn't been in there before and that she must have done it when his back was turned. She was always doing things like that and he loved it—the constant reminders that she was in love with him—she had made him an 'affection junkie' and it didn't bother him one bit.
The letters on the envelope spelled 'Daddy'. An appropriate title, but one he hadn't thought he would hear from anyone but the two Girls he currently had—his daughter's from a previous marriage. It had never dawned on him that at nearly 40 years of age, he would be on the threshold of another birth, but he wasn't averse to it either…in fact he was rather looking forward to it.
The envelope looked as if it might contain a greeting card, but strangely it was rather flimsy…felt quite empty. He furrowed a brow, wondering what joke she might be playing on him this time and with a lopsided grin, he turned the envelope over in his hands so he could open it. He slid his finger under the flap breaking the seal and then peeking inside, he found a lone sonogram picture…strange, she'd already given him one tonight. He lifted it up so he could get a better look, and though nothing seemed out of the ordinary for the moment, he stared closer. His wife's name was in the upper corner with the date. The same fuzzy black and white configuration which he knew was his child, dominated the landscape of the thin filmy paper. But the thing that caught his eye was the tiny white arrow pointing to a suspicious object in the center of the picture and the small digitized words that spelled out 'I'm a boy'.
"I'll be damned." Dave said, confirming to make sure that it was indeed Nancy's name at the top of the picture. It was…and now he was shaking his head in disbelief. "I'll be damned…" He repeated, his face splitting in half with a grin. He turned the picture sideways, trying to gauge for certain whether or not it was possible or simply a joke, but his eyes couldn't deceive him this time and clearly the proof was in the picture. "Sneaky girl…" He observed softly, thinking of his wife…smiling, he tucked the picture of his unborn son inside of his wallet, with an intense buoyant desire to pass out cigars to the entire roster. He shook his head again, sitting on the bench and checking his bag for anymore remaining surprises. He laughed softly, thinking of his comments about only being able to make girl babies. "Well, there goes my track record."
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She never felt the impact…her body never fell face first into the mud…her last breath never came and upon turning to determine why she was even still alive, Barren saw the body of her assassin weave and then topple into the mud beside where she was kneeling. A deep and grotesque ditch was cut through the top of his head revealing more about him than she had ever wished to see. Barren panicked and her breathing became fevered at the realization that if Teke was dead—then that meant someone else was there in the clearing as well. She sure as hell hadn't shot Teke…and that brought about the faint but disturbing possibility that the intentions of that 'someone else' hiding in the brush could very well be worse than Teke's. Her eyes darted wildly from left to right and peering into the lighted path cut by the headlights her fearful gaze locked on something. The silhouette of a man was barely distinct against the darkened shadow of the trees and wisely Barren pulled herself to a standing position, but not before the fingers of her handcuff-restrained hands curled around the cold, wet metal of the fallen 9mm that had first been intended for her demise.
"Barren…" He called out her name to abate her fear and to reveal his identity before she could raise the weapon on him and cut him down with a flurry of well aimed gunfire. He holstered his own weapon and stepped into the illumination of the headlights. "Don't shoot, Barren…"
"God, Owen…" Barren gulped back a sob and let the gun fall into the mud. She hadn't even been aware that he knew where she'd been taken, but she was thankful nonetheless. There was little time for her to embrace the man she had come to know as her lover; for he pushed her away as quickly as he had pulled her to him.
"I'm going to un-cuff ye." Owen explained, his deep accent laden with the heavy hint of an Irish brogue, giving away his true legacy and the fact that he'd been in the States less than ten years. He looked nervously toward the direction from which he had come. "And ye're going to have the opportunity to run." He tugged her into the light so he could fit the tiny key into the keyhole on the cuff.
"I was praying you'd come." Barren's chin shook as she spoke, somewhat from the cold and somewhat from the effort of holding back the tears of relief that threatened to fall.
"Sullivan sent me…he suspected that Teke would be angry if ye refused to tell him where the key was…he knew that Teke would kill ye." Owen explained as he worked feverishly to get the cuffs off, cluing her in to the news that Teke's expedition into the woods had been Sullivan's idea to scare the knowledge of the key's whereabouts out of her. "I was sent by Sullivan to stop Teke from killin' ye, he'll not be far behind…ye've gotta move." His thick brogue rumbled out along with a cloud reminding her again just how cold it was.
He tossed the cuffs aside and tugged his coat off wrapping it around her shoulders, regretful that he had no shoes for her bare and freezing feet. "Ye go north Barren, less than a half 'o mile to the road…I-5…stay 'longside the highway, but behind the cover of trees." Owen explained hurriedly, glancing once over his shoulder. "Don't turn back, no matter what ye hear…there's a highway exit just beyond the line of trees, exit 301…and a bag behind the railin', wrapped in plastic…Clothing and money inside of it. Get what we need and meet me in Ontario…the cabin…ye know the one."
Barren nodded, her eyes a mess of tears and confusion. "Come with me, Owen…" She pleaded. "I'm scared."
"Go." He told her, kissing her lips. He found them strangely warm despite the cold rain.
She clutched desperately at the front of his shirt as his hand came up between them producing a small metal key attached to a sturdy stainless steel neck chain. Her key! Duncan's key! Barren's gaze of perplexity eased suddenly by his smile and then his sense of urgency robbed her of the moment of peace. "Let no one find this…it's yers and ye know what must be done…if ever ye think that they come for ye, then drop it somewhere safe and come back fer it later...they can not catch ye with it…if they do it's over." His words were firm as he slid the chain over her head and watched as the key nestled deep in the valley of her breasts. "It's all we have…without it, we're dead…and then some." He pressed his lips firmly to her forehead afraid for her…afraid for himself. "Now go…"
"I can't…come with me!" Barren insisted, a lump lodging in her throat.
He shook her and his fierce expression, startled her. "He'll kill us both…do ye want that?"
"What if I mess it up?"
"Go!" He forced her body facing away and then pulled his gun from his holster. "Run Barren." He ordered gruffly as he stood over Teke's lifeless body…another faraway set of headlights was beginning to cut a path through the trees in their direction.
And so she did, barefoot and terrified, she bolted, darting through the break in the trees heading north as Owen had instructed—knowing that she was the only link to the truth…and as she ran, her already nightmare filled imagination was rewarded with the sound of five more shots being fired. No doubt Owen's cover-up for her supposed escape.
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The pyros discharged in succession, signaling his entry, along with the deafening sound of his entrance music…a symphony only rivaled by the huge pop from the crowd. But Dave Batista's enormous smile had less to do with his love for his career and his love for the fans, but more to do with the fact that in another month he would be holding his third and final child whom he now knew, via his wife's sneaky ruse, was a boy. His thoughts turned to her, the curly haired love of his life, who would likely be boarding her plane, bound for Seattle and the comfort of their warm home…where he wished he could be joining her.
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"I guess I just thought she knew what my career entailed…how much I would be gone…I thought I had explained it the right way." Randy explained as he gestured. Telling his friend's wife about the woes of his romance was not something he'd thought he would feel comfortable with, but her gentle reassurance that his fiancé—former fiancé—would eventually come around, had him spilling his guts to her on the way to the airport.
"And she may never wanna get back together, which gives me less and less hope of ever having a family or someone to spend my life with…don't laugh either…I know Dave's told you about my escapades in the past. I know he's painted me as a player." Randy glanced sidelong at Nancy as the wipers tapped out a constant beat, sweeping the rain off of the BMW Roadster's windshield.
Nancy laughed even though he'd just asked her not to. "He never told me a thing." She fibbed innocently.
"Yeah, I'll bet." Was Randy's wry response, laced with a chuckle of his own. "I know it's probably too much to hope for, but I want what the two of you have."
"No two relationships are the same, but you'll have one that other people will envy, even if Samantha's not the one meant for you." Nancy said somewhat tickled that her relationship with Dave was Randy's model for the ideal situation. She smiled, patting his hand as it rested nonchalantly on the gearshift.
"Yeah, Dave's always telling me that the right one's out there somewhere…" He nodded, squinting so he could get a better view of the road. "He always says that I'll just run into her when I least expect it." He turned to look at Nancy, who murmured her agreement.
"That's how it happened with us…" She flip-flopped her hand. "Only it was the other way around…I sort of ran into him…well not him exactly…" She laughed. "I ran into his date…but you know the story." Nancy thought fondly of her first meeting with the man that was now her husband and the father of her unborn child. Two steaming cups of coffee and her failure to watch where she had been going had put the two in one another's path and the rest was history. "Randy, what is that?" Nancy suddenly asked narrowing her eyes, when she spied something in the distance.
Upon the split second it took Randy to ponder her question, her realized that he had indeed almost missed his exit and he squinted his own eyes to get a better glimpse of what she had seen. Randy Orton had never believed in ghosts, but the blur of white in the road ahead was either a badly disheveled apparition or a garbage bag with arms and legs.
"I think that's a person…I'm not sure." Randy mused, leaning forward trying to abate the glare from the headlights as the beams bounced off of the fog. "Strange to be out in the cold this late" He further commented, but that wasn't what he'd been thinking, instantly his sense of alarm was blaring. The attempt he made at slowing the vehicle was not abnormal or hasty, yet the wheels spun as his right front tire skimmed the side of the road.
"Randy, I think that's a girl." Nancy announced with a slight undercurrent of panic. Her thoughts of telling him that she suspected the woman might be in trouble along with the fact that she wasn't sure that the woman wouldn't step out into the roadway, were cut short by the sound of a large volume of water hissing as it rushed beneath the undercarriage. The two of them felt the rapid vibration as the anti-lock brakes engaged and relief began to set in for a fleeting moment, but the dip in the highway's elevation and the puddle just inside of the white line, overtook the traction of the tires and sent the sports car wildly fishtailing.
Randy turned into the direction of the skid, but his jerky reaction overcorrected the turn and sent the BMW spinning violently out of control. He let off of the brake and again took control of the car long enough to glimpse the blur of white once more…only this time…she was directly in the path of his car. Having only just stepped over the railing, likely the woman hadn't been prepared for the out of control vehicle bearing down on her. Randy slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting her and the car hydroplaned, sliding sideways…the back end of the spiraling car clipped the woman, even as she attempted to jump, sending her body tumbling like a limp crash-dummy over the trunk and then down onto the pavement behind the vehicle.
Realizing he'd hit the woman scattered his already shaken ability to think or react and the car continued on its course, mowing down the highway's exit sign, skidding over the exit ramp. The car slowed minimally as its tires plowed into the wet ground, but stopped altogether when it slammed into the stocky trunk of a northwestern Oregon Pine.
Endless moments passed before Randy emerged from the darkened cocoon of unconsciousness, only to find the suffocating presence of the airbag, as it lay nearly deflated against his torso. His mind scrambled to recall the exact nature of what had happened and he turned in alarm to his passenger. Shaking his head to clear his vision confirmed for him, that though his airbag had deployed as it had been designed to, Nancy's had not and her body lay limply back in the plush leather bucket seat, her head lolled to one side like a garage-sale rag-doll.
"Nancy." He rasped, as he tried to push through the obstruction made by the deployed airbag. Deciding it was useless, he pushed the driver door, wincing as his head began to pound in time with the horrible creaking of the door on its damaged hinges. On unsteady legs, he groped through the rain and mud until he reached the passenger door, wrenching it open to free his passenger. "Nancy?" He asked again as he leaned in to appraise her condition. The lap belt, low on her belly, looked as though it had held fine and the chest strap, though effective could not have prevented the contact of her forehead with the dash.
He placed one large hand on her neck, to feel for a pulse as he glanced at the deep gash and the profuse dribble of blood from the artery in the center of her forehead. His fingers met with the warm stickiness of blood on her neck where it had already dripped from the open wound on her head. He found the heartbeat weak but existent and knew from his military training that even though the risk of spinal damage was great if she were moved, the risk of her bleeding out through a main artery before an ambulance could arrive was greater.
He reached over her limp body and released the seat belt, he then made certain that her legs were not pinned nor crushed by the impact and he extracted her from the vehicle, carrying her to the top of the slight ravine and laying her down in the grass on the edge of the road, out of the path of possible traffic. Standing up again, he could see in the distance, the lifeless form of the woman he had hit…knowing that she too was most probably mortally injured. It was the one time in his life when he had to make a choice of whom he would save…both women needed his help…both could die if left unassisted. But Randy knew that saving Nancy's life meant that he would be saving the life of her unborn child also and so for a guilt ridden moment he knelt beside the body of his best friend's wife and pushed the thoughts of the dying mystery woman out of his mind.
Randy palmed his cell phone, and dialed 911, tucking the phone between his ear and cheek…in the meantime, he rolled his jacket using it as a pillow to support Nancy's neck. Everything became a blur of clinical procedure as Randy placed his huge palm, flat in the center of her forehead, applying pressure to stem the rapid flow of her life's blood. He spoke the necessary information to the operator, requesting an ambulance, telling the operator of the possible injuries and that his passenger was pregnant and another woman was down more than 50 yards away with unknown injuries. He left the connection open as instructed, but opted to lay the phone down on the ground so that he would not be hindered by it.
There was no physical or verbal response from Nancy as he spoke to her, trying to rouse her with reassuring words and Randy was struck with sudden fear, that if she were losing blood and her oxygenation levels were going down, then it stood to reason that the child inside of her could also be in duress. He reached his free hand out to place it on her stomach, just as the lights of the ambulance flashed and glimmered off of the wet roadway and the sirens filled his ears. He felt the flutter of movement beneath the blood covered palm of his hand and relief washed over him at the reflection that some kind of movement in there was good, because it meant the baby was still alive…at least for the moment.
"Hang in there kiddo…just for a little while longer." He said in a low voice, noting another blessed quiver of movement.