Disclaimer: I do not own John Cena. The only people I own in this story are Camilla and the original characters I have come up with. As with most stories on this website, this is PURELY a work of FICTION; nothing more, nothing less.

If there are aspects of John's life that I get incorrect, please don't hang me for it and send me hate messages. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. FROM MY BRAIN. WHICH MEANS I GET TO MAKE UP WHATEVER I WANT.

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John wanted to cancel his endless slew of doctor's appointments. It seemed as if he was going to see every type of specialist in and around the Boston area so they could give him an opinion on the recovery of his arm. One doctor said six months, another said four. One even said eight months, which would really cause Vince McMahon to kill something. Why couldn't he just take whatever time he needed to fully recover? Vince argued that Creative needed ample warning of his return so they could write him into a storyline properly. John knew the excuse was bullshit but he didn't want to call out his boss.

Vince had called the other day to check up on John. They talked for a while on the phone, going over the niceties and obligation conversation before Vince went right into it and asked when he'd be back. John couldn't give him a direct answer. John knew Vince was scared, and it wasn't because John Cena wasn't wrestling for the time being. Vince was still making his money off t-shirts and arm bands and souvenir cups with John's face on them – money wasn't the issue. And God knows the issue wasn't wrestling, because the fans had been vocal for years that John's character was stale and that he needed time off. The problem was charity – the Make-A-Wishes, the Komen for the Cures, the Be A STAR campaigns – John was the face of the company in more ways than one, and this injury was restricting him from doing the charity work Vince relied on him heavily to do. Although CM Punk was a good friend of John's, he could never do the amount of work John did, even if he wanted to – Punk didn't like many people, so having to deal with different people every day was a giant turn off for him. Randy Orton could do it, but he was busy filming a movie. Sheamus was another candidate, and the most likely replacement, but John and the rest of the company and locker room knew that he wasn't as over with fans as Vince wanted him to be. He was great at the charity work and everybody reveled in his Irish accent, but something was missing with him. He still needed to be groomed a bit more.

He had been spending some time with his family, in particular his father, over the course of the week, which meant he couldn't capitalize on Camilla giving him her address. Tonight was different, however. He was already on his way into Boston from West Newbury, en route to Camilla's residence. It was just past 5:30 which meant she'd surely be home from work. There was still so much to talk about with her; plus, he didn't know a lot about her, though she had heard him go on about his slew of divorce and job problems last week over lunch.

As his GPS system navigated him through Boston, he quickly found himself in Beacon Hill, one of the city's most exclusive addresses. He hoped to God she still didn't live with her parents. Hardly any young, single people could afford this area – unless you came from a family of money. He was pleasantly surprised when he pulled up in front of an old, five story brick building – a relic of a bygone Boston. He parked his car on the street and walked up to the front door, sneaking inside the doorway into the lobby as someone was leaving. He checked the calling buttons in the lobby and noticed "C. Bader – apt. 527" and immediately assumed it was her. He made his way up the flights of stairs before finally reaching the top floor and seeing her apartment door at the end of the hallway. He knocked on the door and waited outside patiently.

Not even twenty seconds later the door cracked open, and he could see half of Camilla's face; the other half was still hidden behind the door. When she realized it was him she pulled the door open all the way and looked at him with a surprised expression.

"Hi," John said meekly.

"You remembered," was the first thing she said to him.

"I would have come sooner but I had doctor's appointments all this week," John told her his excuse.

Camilla moved out of the way, motioning for John to come in. "I'm making some dinner. Would you like to join me?" she asked politely. He noticed she was still in her office clothes.

"If you really don't mind," John said, taking off his shoes. "I don't want to be a bother."

"I just want to let you know I'm a pescetarian," Camilla said suddenly. "There won't be any meat. Or dairy, really. Hence the almond milk order."

"That's fine," John said, taking a good look around her apartment. It was small, of course – only a one bedroom – but it was all Camilla needed. Judging by her apartment the whole complex had been redone, but it still had old-world charm. Original hardwood floors, baseboards, crown moulding, and exposed brick were the main highlights. Her kitchen was modern and new, with stainless steel appliances.

Not knowing what to do, John sat at the small, round kitchen table, awkwardly looking back and forth between the rooms in the apartment and Camilla making some pasta.

"Is everything ok?" Camilla asked.

That question was Camilla's cue to John to start spilling everything that was bothering him at the moment. As she continued to make dinner she listened to him rant on and on about his boss and how demanding he could be at times. He ranted about the responsibility his boss kept looming over his head whenever he talked about recovery. John didn't want to worry about all that yet.

"It's like...I know I need to come back, and I know I need to go right back into the swing of things, but it's only been a week and a half since my surgery," John said.

"Your boss has very high expectations," Camilla said plainly.

John had to agree. "He does, and a good majority of his high expectations are placed on me."

Camilla turned off the stove and brought some vegetable and tofu stir-fry in a pan to the table. She lay a dishcloth down on the table to protect it and placed the steaming hot pan on top, right in front of John. She grabbed the plate that was originally going to be hers and scooped some of the stir-fry into it, placing it in front of John. She hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed another plate, fork and cup for herself, scooping out more food. Once everything was done she sat down in her seat across from John. "That means he trusts you."

John wished it was that easy. He liked that Camilla knew virtually nothing about him, wrestling, or the lifestyle he had to lead because of his job, but he wished, just for a moment, that she understood where he was coming from. "He relies on me," John said. "If he trusted me, why doesn't he trust me with my own recovery?"

"He's got a business to sell."

They looked at each other for what seemed like hours. John didn't want to admit she was right.

"I just feel..." John began, trying to come up with the right words to express what he was feeling. "I just feel like he's buying into what people are saying. That I'll be back before they know it. That I'll only take half the time. I'm not twenty-five anymore. I can't do it."

"Is that what's really bothering you?" Camilla asked innocently. "That you can't do it anymore?"

John looked into her eyes and didn't know what hit him. The second he realized that she was right, that, deep down, it was really bothering him, he let out an uncontrollable sob. He buried his head in his right hand and tried to wipe the tears away.

"Oh my God, John..." Camilla said worriedly. She hit a nerve. Fuck. Judging by his reaction, a huge one. "I'm sor -"

"No, no...you're right," John said through tears he was embarrassed to be shedding – in front of a girl he'd known barely two weeks, nonetheless. "I can't do it anymore."

"Well, I'm sure you want to," she tried to encourage him, not knowing what to say. She never exactly experienced a crying man in her kitchen before.

"I can't," John persisted, finally being able to control his emotions. He looked at her and she had the look of utmost worry on her face. He felt bad for breaking down in front of her. "I guess I just need to come to terms with the fact that I can't anymore."

"Well, if it's any consolation, your boss should too," Camilla offered, again trying to make him feel better. "Never give up, John."

He smiled at her as she unknowingly used one of his many slogans that were plastered all over t-shirts that made millions. "I won't, but only because you told me not to."

Camilla blushed as she finally picked up some food in her fork and stuffed it in her mouth. Surely that would prevent her from saying anything else that would make John cry. He followed suit.

Silence.

"I feel like we're always talking about me," John said when they were halfway done their dinner. "What's your life story? Did you grow up in Boston?" he asked.

Camilla knew this was coming eventually. She knew the questions would come. She didn't like opening up to people because her life was unlike anything they've ever heard. She assumed people would always make comments. That people would never believe her. "Uh...not exactly," she said shyly, looking away. "I've only been here since I was eighteen."

John nodded his head. "So you moved here for school I'm guessing," he said, to which Camilla nodded her head. "Where did you live before that?"

For some reason Camilla felt like she could talk about it with John. He lived an unconventional lifestyle now, so in a way, she felt like he could relate. "All over the place, really," she began. "My dad...my dad works for the Canadian government. He's a consul, so for a lot of his life – and mine – we've moved to different countries for his job."

John seemed genuinely interested in what Camilla was saying. "So where have you lived, then?" he asked.

Camilla chuckled to herself. "Ready?" she asked as a precursor. "From 1 to 3 I lived in Toronto. From 3 to 5 I lived in Chicago. Then I lived in Berlin until I was 10. From 10 to 11 I lived in London. From 11 to 12 I lived in Copenhagen. When I was 12 we moved to Stockholm but didn't stay that long. We moved back to Berlin when I was 13 and stayed until I was 16. We went back to Toronto for a year when I was 16. Then we moved to Washington DC for only six months when I was 17, back to Toronto until I turned 18, and then my dad chose to end his career in Boston, so I chose to apply to university here while he worked his last few years, and I've been here ever since."

"Wow. That's almost as complicated as your drink order," John joked, earning a playful glare from Camilla. "I'm guessing you weren't born in Toronto," he said innocently.

Camilla looked at him with a serious face. "How did you know?" she asked in a deadpan voice.

"Well you began when you were one year old, so I just kind of assumed you weren't born there," he said, completely oblivious to where his questions would lead. "Where were you born?"

Camilla sighed, knowing she had to reveal the information now. She had made John cry – the least she could do was be honest. "I was born in Croatia. My dad...he adopted me," Camilla said quietly.

John leaned back on his seat. "Oh..."

"I don't know if what he did is really considered adoption though," she said, getting John's attention again. She looked at him before she was going to pour everything onto him. The genuine interest in his eyes could not be denied. "My dad was in Croatia – at the time, it was Yugoslavia – and civil conflict was already going on at the time even though the full-out war in the nineties wasn't happening yet," Camilla began. "He was in the countryside for a while, in some small town, and everybody was told to evacuate because the 'rebel army' was on their way and was basically going to pillage this town. My dad tried calling the Canadian Embassy to come get him but there wasn't enough time, so my dad had to get out like everyone else was, with buses."

Camilla looked at John. The fact that he hadn't made any comments yet also put her at ease. It meant he was listening. "Anyways, my dad got on the last bus, but there were still so, so many people that were going to be left in this town, and he was begging the bus driver to come back one more time but the bus driver wasn't hearing it. So my dad was forced through the bus, and ended up in a window seat squished in with like three other men, and he rolled down the window to tell people to walk by foot to the nearest town to be safe. As the bus driver started the bus, everybody crowded around it to try and stop it from moving, and that's when my dad saw a woman in the crowd coming closer to the bus. She was very poor, and she was crying, and because my dad's window was the only window open she started screaming at him, 'Take her! Take my baby! Save her!'. All of the sudden this woman thrust this baby over her head and just kept yelling at my dad, 'Save her, please! She can't die here! Save my baby!'...so he did. He grabbed hold of this baby and brought it into the bus with him. He saw the woman collapse from her crying so much, and then the bus took off," Camilla said, noticing the look of absolute shock on John's face. "And...that baby was me."

John's mouth was gaping open. At first, he didn't want to believe it. He thought Camilla was just pulling his leg, trying to get a rise out of him. But when he noticed how serious she was, and how she was waiting for his reaction, he knew she was telling the truth. "Wow," he whispered in total shock. "That's quite the story."

Camilla nodded her head but didn't say much else. She didn't want John asking any questions. She didn't want him overreacting or saying something stupid, although deep down inside her, she knew he wouldn't. She just nodded her head lightly and continued to work on finishing her meal. John, sensing that s he didn't want to talk about it anymore, chose to finish the stir-fry on his plate too.

When dinner was done John helped Camilla clean up. He wanted to stay longer but he knew Camilla wouldn't offer. It was already enough that he'd had dinner at her condo, unannounced. He also figured she was probably tired from a full day of work.

"I think I'm gonna start heading back home," John said as Camilla finished loading up her dishwasher. "I feel bad that I kind of came here unannounced anyway."

"You didn't though. I told you that you could come by any time and you listened to me," she said, a small smile on her face. "But I understand you have to get back to West Newbury."

She walked him the little distance to the door and watched him as he slid on his flip-flops. A wise choice, seeing as with his left arm out he wasn't able to tie laces. He looked at her before opening the door. "Thank you again for hearing me out," he said, smiling at her. "We'll...we'll talk soon, I guess."

Camilla nodded her head. "Whenever you need to," she said as he opened the door and stepped out.

Camilla watched as he walked down the hallway. "John," she called out before she could realize what she was doing. He spun around, waiting for her to speak. She looked down at her shoes, then back at him, knowing she couldn't just say something stupid at a time like this. "You're the first person I've ever told," she admitted the truth. She had never told anyone her story. She just went along with what people assumed: that her dad was her birth-dad, that her mom had probably died young, that her dad was a diplomat. John was the first person who knew her true story. She was proud of herself for finally telling someone, but she was also unsure, now, of what this would mean in the future. Would John use it against her? Would he hold it over her head all the time? Worse yet, would he tell everyone?

He smiled softly at her admission and found it incredibly flattering that she would open up to him like she did. "Thank you for trusting me with that," he said. "That means a lot."

Blushing now, Camilla smiled quickly before retreating back into her condo and closing the door. John continued down the stairs, out of the condo, and back to his car, en route to West Newbury, a smile on his face the entire time.

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Thank you so much for your reviews. If you are reading, please comment and tell me if you like it, and any suggestions you may have! I know this is a more serious story than my CM Punk story, but I thought I'd give it a shot. REVIEW!