Warning: Before you proceed, just keep in mind that English is NOT my mother language. So there will certainly be mistakes in this text. Yet, I'm eager to improve, so if you see some corrections to make, don't hesitate to contact me :-)

Author's note: This is going to be a really DARK story. In you're in a fragile mood, don't read. This 3rd chapter explores the real beginning of the feud between Barrett and Cena.

Background Music: As the atmosphere from a music can influence our mood and the way we write, here's the song that ... well... helped me through this. Dive into the atmosphere of the story with 12 Stones - "Crash".

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NEVER GOT A CHANCE

Chapter 3 - Memories

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December 19th, 2010

After fifteen minutes of high-speed slalom-driving in the city of Houston, Texas, trying not to be left behind by the ambulance, John Cena left the North Loop West and pulled over his car sideways in the Memorial Hermann Northwest Hospital emergency parking lot. He jumped out of his car like a tornado and barely closed it before running towards the ambulance, which doors were already opened. Three medics were swarming from the Hospital entrance to meet the team inside the Ambulance. John reached them as the stretcher wheels connected with the pavement. Wade still laid motionless. The oxygen mask was still on his mouth and nose, but his eyes were now closed.

'Did he close them by himself, or has someone done that for him?', John thought with a shudder about the grim reason why people usually performed that action. He didn't have the time to think any further as one of the resident medic shouted: "WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE?"

Before someone ever replied, Cena felt a spark of hope. Unless they were still faking for some eventual paparazzi, their attitude was professional, and apparently aimed at someone still alive.

Three medics were pushing the stretcher inside the hospital while a fourth one was checking on Wade, as the fifth one was giving him the actual lecture: "Thirty year old male. Has been gravely beaten up. Severe head trauma with possible brain injuries and internal stroke. Possible depressed skull fractures in the back on his head. Intracranial haemorrhage. We can't exclude Intraparenchymal haemorrhage. Other injuries on ribs, arms and on the spine. Some were old and covered by make-up. Possible fractures. Pupils are wide. Unresponsive. Signs of seizure. He received 10mg of Valium. Oxygen saturation was low. Had to be put under high pressure O2. Both cardiac rhythm and blood pressure are low, and dropping."

'... and dropping'. John Cena who followed just behind understood nothing about their hospital gibberish, except these latest two words: 'and dropping'. He felt a twist in his stomach and like his legs had become lead, but he forced himself to keep on moving. To always keep Barrett in sight while he was still alive. Some large doors slid-opened and the group of medics passed pushing the stretcher. As Cena wanted to fall into steps with them, a latino nurse blocked his way.

"Sorry sir, but you can't go any further". Cena's eyes widened in slight panic. Of course, he could have shoved her aside and passed the door, but there was some authority in his voice that stopped him on the spot. Besides, what good would it make if he was to be thrown outside by a security guard three minutes later? The nurse saw his almost pleading eyes, and glanced behind her. She then turned back to Cena: "You're a relation of that man?".

"Yeah I'm his...". Cena's mouth went dry. What should he say? Murderer? Not yet. Barrett was still alive. Obviously dying, but still alive so far. The guy who beat him into a pulp? Not a good idea either if he wanted to be allowed near him. He had to give an answer quickly and his mind came up with the most adequate answer due to the situation. "... friend."

When the word was said, John Cena repeated the sentence in his mind and had to prevent his eyes from widening. He had never thought he would ever refer to Wade Barrett as a friend. But he had never thought he would end up beating him to death either! He dropped his eyes to the ground, feeling the shame for his actions earlier, but the nurse misunderstood the previous hesitation and his silence now. She patted a comprehensive hand on his right shoulder. When he lifted his gaze back to her face, he saw there a strange smile, sad but also unease. She also appeared to quickly look him from head to toes, then looked back at him with that strange smile again.

" I understand, it's all right", she said with a voice sounding less steady than what she had probably wanted. "Follow me this way, sir". John frowned, heading to the big doors with her, wondering if she had seen through his lies, and understood which kind of a friend he was for Barrett. He was also surprised - but somehow relieved - that no officials from the WWE was already there. They would probably ordered him to be kicked outside the hospital. And he wouldn't blame them.

But Cena stopped thinking about that as soon as he passed the door and his nostrils were assailed by the strong disinfectant aroma. But it's not the smell that stopped him. Rather the three corridors in front of him, all whites and looking similar, with just blue boards on the ceiling indicating letters and numbers with no specific meaning for him. Wade and the medics were nowhere to be seen. His breath accelerated abruptly, on the verge to panic. The nurse slightly turned to him with a reassuring smile and winked.

"Don't worry. I know where they took your boyfriend. Just follow me."

John froze and was lucky she didn't look back at that moment. At least now he knew what kind of a friend she thought he was for Wade Barrett. He hesitated between an hysterical laugh or a scream of terror, and managed with a huge effort to express none of them.

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John was sitting on a bench, in front of the operation room. The red light above the door kept telling him that the surgeons were trying to undo the damages he had done earlier this evening. But would they manage? The more the time passed, the more Cena's anxiety rose. Even if each passing hour would technically make the operation close to the end, it also meant that the operation was really serious. Cena clenched his jaw and hung his head, gazing away from that nightmarish red light. There was another think to also take into account: The surgeons during night shifts were just supposed to do the surgical equivalent of first aid. To make sure the patient would make it through the night before the day team would take its turn. Three hours of first aid told Cena something he always tried to push away: Wade was in a critical state. And if he ever made it through the night, he would probably never be the same again. And his chances grew slimmer with each passing hour.

He lifted his head, feeling a sudden chill, as if someone had opened a window or a door to the outside, and created an airstream. We were in December. Even in Texas, winter winds could sometimes be icy. He glanced around, but couldn't see any opening to the outside. He gathered his arms around him and bent slightly, waiting for the chill to pass. He had left his jacket with his sport bag inside his car but didn't dare leaving the bench to get it. With his luck, the operation would be done by the time he was gone and he'd miss both Barrett and the results. Other thoughts were occupying his mind.

If Wade did survive, himself wouldn't be a murderer, all right. But if Wade was to never compete again, murderer or not, he would have destroyed a life. Wade, that strange brutal man who kept saying that he was attacking him only because he respected him, and who probably wanted his respect in return, but never dared asking for it openly. Cena frowned at the idea of Barrett being shy about something.

Again, the memory of Wade's soft side when he was with him in the Nexus came into his mind, trying to get in the way of any organized thought. Cena sighed. He had time to kill - and not fellow wrestlers - so he decided to accept these memories as they fled in, and examine them.

His first memory of Wade Barrett was from seven months earlier, during his own planned fight against Jericho, back when Barrett was just a rookie at the NXT. Chris Jericho was the one Cena was supposed to fight that evening, but Jericho claimed that he had beaten him so many times in the past, that it would be pointless to do it again. Instead, he had preferred to send his protégé to test himself against Cena, bragging with arrogance about how he had shaped that fighter from a puddle of mud into a worthy wrestler who'd soon become the future of the WWE. Jericho had spoken a lot back then, mostly glorifying himself about his talent as an instructor. Cena had thus unconsciously pictured Wade Barrett as just an extension of that arrogant Chris Jericho, and had brought his animosity onto the youth. From his point of view, he could see the marking of Jericho in the way Barrett stood or walked - if you forgot maybe about some slight spasmodic moves from his right wrist. Jericho's trace was there. The same way a Palpatine would have shaped a young Anakin Skywalker.

He could have realised they were different when Barrett took the mic, and - in opposition to Jericho's verbal diarrhea - only uttered five words with quite a strong accent: "You won't defeat me. Period."

John remembered now the silent youth who had come down the ramp to join him on the ring, with eyes somehow shining. Back then, after all the insults and jeers from Jericho, he had taken that look for defiance and arrogance. But right now, seven months later, he was wondering if it wasn't happiness to face one of the greatest that had pushed Wade Barrett towards the ring that day. Happiness and pride to prove himself against the Great John Cena, and maybe, to get his respect in return.

It was a 'Beat The Clock' match on that day of May. Cena had five minutes to defeat Barrett. He could have taken his time to observe how the youth fought and to judge of his level. And in any other circumstances, that's what he would have done: new talents were always interesting. But after everything Jericho had proclaimed, his raillery and taunts, all Cena had in mind was to destroy Jericho's pupil as fast as possible, to throw that back to the injurious blond.

So he had attacked the youth as soon as the bell rang, immobilizing him, torturing him, pinning him at every occasions, with everything he had, not leaving him the slightest chance to place a move. And every times he heard Jericho shouting instructions for his protégé, his will to destroy the younger man increased.

But the dark haired youth was stubborn: while everything told him he was going to lose to Cena, he kept resisting and fighting. And at some point, Barrett had managed to pass through his attacks and placed one kick. From that moment, the tables had turned, and Cena had experimented that not only the youth had strength, but speed and agility. And intelligence too. All the qualities usually found in the greatest wrestlers throughout the WWE history.

Back then, had Cena told him that, saying even something as simple as "you fought well, kiddo", many atrocities would have been avoided in the future, and many things would have been different for Barrett. Maybe Wade would have been by his side when he joined RAW. Maybe after his victory at NXT, he wouldn't have felt the obligation to still prove himself. He wouldn't have created the Nexus, and destroy everything at RAW to prove that they existed and that they had potential. Maybe Cena would have even taken Barrett under his wing, much to Jericho's annoyance. Maybe they would have fought side by side.

Maybe they would have been friends.

If only Cena had spoken the right words that day.

But no. Cena was so frustrated about Jericho's refusal to face him, that he had vented his rage on Jericho's protégé, torturing the youth more than necessary in his final STF submission move to the point that "Mr Nice Guy" almost dislodged his opponent's shoulder, broke his back and his ankle and exploded his knee. And even after Barrett tapped out, screaming in utter agony, Cena had held him a few more seconds, even increasing the pressure in the end, briefly glancing towards Jericho. He wanted to make sure that the blond bastard saw the demise of his student, before he finally released him. Cena had rolled on his feet with a huge smirk, without a second look for Barrett, and had started showing off his victory, humiliating Jericho, and ignoring the youth, curled up in the shape of a ball in the middle of the ring.

Cena had actually nothing personal against Barrett - he only saw him as an extension of Jericho - and he had even forgotten about his face and name a week after the incident. But Barrett had a mind on his own. That day, Barrett had probably started loathing him. But even then, Cena could have still saved what was left of Barrett's good side by simply telling him the right words. But no, he just had kicked the youth back into Jericho's trap. Jericho who would more than gladly use that newborn hatred from his protégé into his teaching lessons, nurturing that feeling, and finishing to shape Barrett into his final form.

That day of May had been Cena's first big mistake about Barrett. Probably his biggest.

He hadn't seen the man again after that, until that fateful day of June 7th, where he was in the ring, facing CM Punk and his Straight Edge Society. He was about to deliver a finisher move to CM Punk when his attention had been distracted by somebody standing at the top of the ramp. He had turned to face the newcomer, and didn't recognized directly the tall man dressed in black, simply standing there and looking calmly at him with cold green eyes. He had turned back to CM Punk, attacking him with his "You can't see me" move, before lifting him up on his shoulders with the idea of delivering him his "Attitude Adjustment" finisher move, but a movement in the corner of his eyes stopped him and he simply dropped CM Punk in order to face the ramp.

The newcomer had started to walk down the ramp calmly, and Cena couldn't still place him, until the man made some spasmodic movement with his right wrist, as if he wanted to get rid of some tingling in his hand. Cena twitched: he had already seen someone with that tic. Not so long ago actually. And it suddenly rang a bell in his mind. He had fought some rookie from Jericho a few weeks earlier. What was his name again?

And as the stranger kept on approaching the ring, Cena remembered that he hadn't been able to stare away from these cold green eyes, as if hypnotised. He still couldn't remember Jericho's protégé's name, but he was sure he could remember his eyes. And these eyes were now different. Like something that had once been there was now lost. They also looked much older than a month earlier.

Cena felt unease and tried to break the spell by walking toward the ropes and mouthed a "Do you want something from me?". The stranger didn't reply, but kept walking, never moving his cold and determined green eyes away from him. Cena felt a chill running down his spine and repeated: "What do you want?". The stranger didn't vary his expression, his eyes still locked on him, and kept advancing calmly towards the ring. With some effort, Cena managed to move away from these hypnotic eyes and asked the referee if he knew anything about this. The referee lifted his arms: he didn't even know the name of the newcomer. Cena drove his eyes back on him. He was almost down the ramp, and didn't show any sign of slowing down. Cena gulped with difficulty. Usually his opponents never hesitated to announce themselves and brag about their talents and capacities. It was somehow reassuring: it always gave you an idea of what you were about to face.

But here, he knew absolutely nothing. The stranger didn't look angry, but didn't smile either. He was neutral, and kept a complete silence, added to a huge aura of calm confidence around him. Cena's instinct started screaming, and he felt the first edges of some unknown fear. He crouched into a fighting stance, still unsure of the young man's intention as the latter kept on approaching. At that moment, the stranger's green eyes glanced away from Cena and started quietly at the crowd around. Cena understood afterwards that it had been a signal.

He heard a surprised shout behind him and turned. Some wrestlers, unknown to him, but all wearing the same black and yellow armband, had jumped from the crowd and started attacking the Straight Edge Society. Cena saw that CM Punk was standing on his feet again, and decided to grab the man and throw him outside the ring, into the fray. He soon disappeared under a ruckus of fists, shoulders, and kicks. It was as if he had thrown a beefsteak into a pool of piranhas.

Cena was alone in the middle of the ring, observing the chaos outside de ropes perimeter, not knowing what to do, and not understanding what was happening. Did these guys come to help him? And if so, why? At that very moment, he was puzzled, but not exactly worried. Not yet.

This would change.

He brought his gaze back to the young stranger and saw with some fright that he had reached the ring and was quietly looking up at him. Then the young man looked away and nodded, before grabbing a rope and climbing onto the ring.

Cena realized then that all the members of the Straight Edge Society were down, and that all the newcomers were surrounding the ring, climbing with movements almost identical to the young man's, of whom Cena couldn't remember the name yet. Perfect mirroring was the term that came in his mind when he looked around him. They were all standing on the other side of the ropes, staring at him, and waiting. Cena brought back his gaze to his former opponent and suddenly understood as the young man nodded to the others before they all bent at once under the ropes to move inside the ring, circling him. If Cena ever had a chance to pierce an escape outside the ring and into the crowd, it was now gone.

That young man was unquestionably the leader of that group. And this didn't probably bode well for him. After all, Cena had defeated him at "Beat the Clock" the previous month. Could the youth have brought back buddies with him to have his revenge? Back then, Cena couldn't remember the details of that previous match. He had completely forgotten the torture he had inflicted to that man on the ring, just to get a revenge on his mentor Jericho. But today, he doubted that the end would have been different had he remembered and said "I'm sorry". It was probably already too late for that.

As he locked eyes with the young dark haired leader, some understanding passed between them. Both of them knew what was going to happen. Cena passed a hand over his face and discovered without much surprise that it was covered with a cold sweat. He took a deep breath as the eight men inched slowly closer to him, reducing their circle. There was no way to avoid the fight. There was no way out. So he acted out of pure instinct and went for the leader of the pack, leaping to him, impacting his jaw with his right fist. Slightly blinded by the shock, the leader retreated in the corner of the ring. Cena directly followed him there, taking advantage of the surprise effect: the seven other men reacted with one second of delay, one second Cena used to repetitively hit the young leader with everything he had: he knew it wouldn't be long before all the others were on him and he wouldn't be able to hit anyone anymore.

Boy, he had been right about that!

The rest of the fight was blurred in his memory. He had mostly seen it on recorded tapes afterwards in his hospital room.

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The cold was still there in this hospital corridor, and Cena pressed his hands on his temples as an horrific thought was invading him, bringing the beginning of a migraine along. Maybe all these horrors, the war against the Nexus, all the people who had been hurt since... Maybe all this time, it had been his fault?

Maybe Barrett hadn't attacked him randomly in June - as he first thought - because he was there when the Nexus decided to come by as they had "seen some lights and thought there was a party". Maybe Barrett had attacked him on purpose. To settle things. Except that Cena had forgotten that there ever was something to settle and had always considered this as a declaration of war, with him as the main victim; and had felt he could counterattack by rights, leading to the escalation of violence everybody witnessed in the following months.

"Oh my God...", Cena whispered. "All this time it was... me?". His words were leaving him, floating as white vapor in the cold air.

It was his Rage against Jericho that had made him hurt Barrett in the first place, and had started this war against the Nexus. And it was his Rage against Barrett that had ended the War, in a gruesome way. There had been many collateral damages in-between.

The first one being Wade Barrett himself.

Cena brought his hands before his face and saw they were trembling slightly. He tried to persuade himself it was because of the cold in this corridor. His Rage - his uncontrolled Rage - had caused suffering for almost everybody he knew, and had cost Barrett's life. One way or another, Wade Barrett's life was done.

He looked again as his hands, horrified.

"... What is wrong with me?".

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TO BE CONTINUED.

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Now you know how the feud started between the two. You can check on the RAW episod from May 3rd 2010.

More info to come in the future. ;-)

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Reply to reviews:

First of all, thank you all for your comments or nice words :) I'm glad when I have feedbacks, you really make my day :) Your reviews give me a reason to keep on writing, especially if I have the feeling you like the story :-)

- Ninfea Di Luna: J'avais pas vu cet épisode de CSI, tiens :) Pour ce qui est des chaises, quand ils ont des combats en mode TLC, ils savent de base qu'il ne faut pas frapper avec le tranchant, mais avec le plat, du côté tissus/cuir de préférence, et éviter de frapper la tête. Mais bon, emporté par sa rage, Cena a un peu "oublié" toutes les mesures de sécurité.

- Nefra: Merci beaucoup pour ton analyse :) Oui, c'est clair que cette fic ne sera pas du tout en mode Bisounours ;) Merci pour la correction ortographique :) Je suis tout de suite allée changer ça ;-) Quant aux événements sombres de ma vie lors de la création de cette fic: je venais d'apprendre le matin même que mon père avait fait un infarctus durant la nuit et était à l'hopital. Bon, depuis il en est sorti hein? ;) Mais ça m'a mis dans une humeur particulière ce matin là et bon... j'ai pondu un synopsis assez sombre qui a donné cette fic ;)

- KimberAnnBRAND: Thank you very much :D And if you reviewed this in Science Class, I'm glad it was not a humoristic story ;-) It's less discreet to hide a laugh :p

- Kraylicious: Thanks :) Cena's point of view has already started to change about Barrett in this chapter. That change will not operate at once, but progressively. The future will tell where it will lead ;-)

- Failed to De-anon: Thank you :) It's clear that Cena's POV is quite dark after what happened.

- Angel: Thank you :)

- Roronoa Minamino: Thank you :) There will be a parallel at some points between the incident of Wade Barrett and the incident of Owen Hart in future chapters, much to Cena's (quite) paranoid mind. ^^

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Thank you for your time reading this chapter :)

I'm already working on the next one, and I hope you'll like it as well ;-)

As already said before: if you have questions/suggestions/spelling corrections/rotten-tomatoes/etc... don't hesitate to leave me a note ;-)

Hugs :)

::Roselyne::