Uncommon Bond

Chapter 28

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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"Look not mournfully into the past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future, without fear."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
US poet (1807 - 1882)

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His eyes were gritty and dry from being forced to open long before he'd been prepared. The phone was emitting a god-awful trill and from somewhere deep in his shroud of slumber he imagined that it might be a mechanical bird; a macaw or some other equally annoying computerized animal. It was the fierce shaking of his shoulder that had him prying his eyelids open, to behold Barren and her expression of weary excitement along with her rushed whispers, telling him that his friend's wife was in labor and prepared to give birth.

Randy knew that Dave hadn't called him for the purpose of needing him at the hospital so much as simply to inform him, but he had the strongest desire to go and be present for the birth nonetheless. Maybe it was his residual guilt over having been the responsible party in the car accident that had him whipping the sheets off and scrambling for his pants. Whatever the case was, he felt it important to be supportive to his friend and he even felt like he might want to know what it might be like to be present for something of this nature. He might not have an inclination to watch, mind you, but he wouldn't mind being a part of the joyous aftermath.

Barren too, was dashing out of Randy's bed, finger combing a snarled mass of auburn tresses and yanking her jeans on as she hopped around trying to inch them over her muscular thighs. She desperately wanted to be in attendance to see the baby's entrance into the world, but she had a strange notion that she would be better served by looking for the key that she was positive Nancy hadn't had the time to pack or hide in her rush to get to the hospital. With shaking fingers she swiftly buttoned her shirt and then slipped on a pair of low-heeled, sling-backs.

Randy would have been content to have Barren come along, but her soft suggestion that she was willing to help by readying Dave and Nancy's house for their return home, seemed an even better idea. He knew his friend might appreciate coming home to clean dishes and freshly made beds to lighten the load and so he dropped Barren off and let her in with the key he'd forgotten to return to Dave the night before. He had little time for more than a swift kiss on the lips and the chance to see her safely inside, before bolting back to the warmth of the car and unintentionally spinning the tires at the base of the gravel drive in his haste.

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"She's been using her real name." Mr. Littlejohn informed Max. "Her prints confirmed it. They matched up to the biometrics that were taken when she was registered as a landed immigrant."

Max nervously chewed a fingernail and paced the studio, in a trail on the concrete as he listened to the specifics being given to him.

Littlejohn continued. "She was registered in Florida at the age of six, naturalized when she turned fourteen. Her father is in prison in Dublin for his involvement with a military stronghold and her mother was deported back to Ireland last year for failure to provide a spousal sponsor. Barren's credit is impeccable and she's never had so much as a traffic ticket. She's barely more than a blip on the radar." He sighed into the phone as if the search might have been a waste of his time. "The only thing that struck me as strange was the fact that Barren's clients have complained to the gym at which she's employed, that she hasn't shown up for any of her scheduled appointments for several weeks. I also did a check with her landlady who bragged that Barren was the best tenant that she's had, but informed me that she hasn't received any rent and reported that she's not seen or heard from Barren in weeks either."

Max knew why. Barren wasn't there to fulfill her commitments, because she was here causing a problem for him. "Well, thanks for all you've done." He nearly choked on the bitter words, deflated by the failure to conjure up some sort of dirt on the woman who was worming her way into Nancy's life.

"Not a problem." Littlejohn responded. "You know, Max…this could just be a slight case of someone running from their past, or it might even be an instance where she just got tired of the weight of her responsibilities and decided to make a change…there's really no crime in that. I'll know more once I check out her brother's background and I'll call you then."

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There were few dishes in the sink and a full load in the dishwasher, but that was the last thing on Barren's list of chores. She made a bee-line for the master bedroom, where she intended to make up the bed and straighten it while she searched for the key. It was apparent that things had been left in a rush, rightly so; the bed was unmade, a laundry basket was tipped over on the floor with an assortment of socks spilling out, the closet door was ajar and the bedside lamps, as well as the master bathroom light, were still on. Barren righted the tipped basket and placed it inside of the closet shutting the door completely. She made the bed, smoothing the comforter and folding the top edge back, stacking the pillows in perfect alignment after she had slid her hands beneath the mattress edge to determine if the key were there.

She snapped the bedside lamp off when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Color me surprised." Max cleared his throat. "Not only are you a shameless snoop, you do well as a happy homemaker too."

Barren felt her nostrils flare and her cheeks burn as she frowned with irritation. "What are you doing here?"

He scratched his chin, indifferently. "I was planning on asking you the same question."

Barren shrugged, feigning disinterest. "I wanted to help. I thought I could come clean things up so that no one had to come home to a mess…it's not a big deal."

"How thoughtful of you." His words dripped with sarcasm, as he took a few more steps into the bedroom. "And here I was, thinking that you had an ulterior motive."

"You really don't think much of me, do you?" Barren ventured, staring at the floor for a moment, content to try a new tactic; laying a guilt trip on Max for his use of such careless words.

Max laughed, not taken in by the bait. "Poor little Barren…" He continued. "If I told you what I really thought of you, would that make you feel better?"

"What is your problem?" Barren asked, not bothering to hide her irritation. "Am I a threat to you? Are you afraid that my friendship with Nancy is going to push you out of the inner circle?" She smirked, knowing at last that she had him pegged. "That's it isn't it?"

A dry chuckle passed Max's lips as he pondered the question. He wouldn't admit that he'd been thinking that very thing for the past day or so. "I spent the better part of two years dealing with WWE Divas, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm immune to histrionics…theatrics." Max added for good measure. He watched as she shook her head and planted one slender hand on her hip. "You truly have everyone else fooled…You have Randy thinking you're a saint…which doesn't surprise me, even given my limited knowledge of his history with women." He took another step forward. "And to tell the truth, I'm not surprised that Nancy believes you're on the up and up, but she has amnesia, so maybe that has something to do with it." He glanced at his shoe and then when his eyes swung back upward, he leveled her with a stare that held a distinct flicker of warning. "But I'm not buying the act."

"What act?" Barren asked, through a tight-lipped smile.

"Let me just give you one piece of advice…and if you're half as smart as you pretend to be, you'll take it to heart." Max wagged a finger a mere inch from Barren's face. "If you have even a single malicious intention…it will come out." He was briefly satisfied when she took a step backward.

"Are you threatening me?" Barren scoffed as she planted her hands on her hips in a gesture of defiance.

"I recommend that if you're planning on using Nancy or your position as her 'friend' to advance your interests…" He made quotation marks with his fingers. "You might change your mind. Because any retaliation that you think I might be bent on, will be nothing in comparison to what you'll face at the hands of Dave Batista."

"I have no ulterior motive, Max and my intentions are nothing but respectable!" Barren snapped, barely able to conceal her wrath.

"Right…" Max said nonchalantly, indicating that he wasn't convinced by her declaration. "For your sake, let's just hope you're telling the truth." Max concluded, turning to leave.

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A swift glance at the watch on his wrist told him that the entire event of his son's birth had been rather swift by the standards of most people. Just over two hours from door to delivery, left him shocked and relieved that it had gone so quickly. The whole of the event had been blessedly uncomplicated and incredibly smooth, something that he'd not expected when he considered his streak of calamity lately. The specialist that had taken his wife's case hadn't made it and would likely not have been able to be present even if he'd hopped a plane the very second he'd gotten the phone call. Instead, he had reassured the very nervous mother that she would be in good hands with Dr. Nesbit, the doctor he usually referred to parents in the Seattle area. Dr. Nesbit also happened to be the on-call physician as luck would have it. He was a very short, kindly man with a ring of graying hair around the nape of his head, leaving exposed, a smooth and shiny bald area on the top that reflected the lights in the room.

The doctor had been apprised of the special circumstances ahead of time and since he was based out of Lacey, Washington, he'd arrived in short order, with smiles and words of encouragement; a late-night energy and exuberance that would make most people envious. And though the man was little more than five feet tall and weighing less than his wife, he was intelligent and carried himself well, with a perpetual smile and endless patience…he also had a hell of a sense of humor and so Dave found that he liked the man straight away.

Dave almost had to laugh when he recalled some of the humor surrounding his wife's labor and his own forgetfulness when he'd tried to encourage her to breathe the way they'd practiced in her classes—classes she couldn't remember. The attempt had elicited from her, a bungled attempt at breathing, a laugh and then a groan, when another contraction began. No time to teach her the specifics again, Dave had begun to make every attempt to get her to laugh, because that seemed to take the place of an epidural, for which there was also no time. His jokes and stories from his trips on the road had helped somewhat, pulling her mind away from the pain and though he'd thought she might crush his fingers in the process of pushing, her good attitude never waned and in no time at all, her pain was over and his son was loudly making his entrance into the world.

Dave had naturally expected tears from her, because mothers usually always cried when their child was born—he hadn't been prepared to witness her weep and laugh, both expressions of emotion meshing almost all in the same. The sight of Nancy's reaction along with his son's pitiable wailing brought forth tears from his own eyes and he'd known from his own experience with having been present for two previous births, that there was no love or joy he knew of that could even equal it. He could clearly recall how he'd felt when each of his daughters had made their first appearance, thinking it wasn't possible to have enough love left in his heart for anything else, but clearly after seeing the face of his son, he knew it was possible.

And so now, Nancy was in recovery and he was standing, outside of the nursery window in scrubs that were meant for a much smaller man, bearing witness to the loud and wretched protesting of his son who was being weighed and then bathed and most definitely expressing his displeasure at being exposed to the cold air and bright lights. The heartrending quiver of his lip every time he let out with another wail followed by a hiccup, a cough and more of the same, until finally being swaddled in a blanket and being brought within a few feet of the window for paternal inspection, had Dave swallowing a lump.

The boy's eyes, when not squinted while squealing in tearful protest, were a deep black with a blue cast, as was the norm for all babies. Dave found himself wondering what color they would be once they began to change. The boy was possessed of a medium skin tone that miraculously had escaped with only minor splotching. His hands were large and perpetually clenched into fists, both of which he was determined to force into his mouth. The baby boy also was gifted with a fully functioning set of lungs, as evidenced by his noisy cries, indicating he was hungry, cold and just generally pissed off at being thrust from the secure warmth of his mother's womb. But the one thing that had Dave Batista grinning from ear to ear was the mass of loose ringlets that had formed on his son's head after the swift bathing. He'd never seen a baby with so much hair and he knew the boy had gotten that particular trait from his mother. Dave wasn't certain of the true hair color because of the dampness, but he'd bet that somehow it would be light brown like Nancy's and he knew she would be pleased, that although the boy highly resembled his father, he had been gifted with his mother's curls.

"I would have thought he'd be bigger."

Dave turned his head at the sound of Randy's voice and felt the clap of a hand on his shoulder. "So did I." A soft chuckle, when he thought of Randy's statement. His son, though healthy, was oddly average in size, something he was sure his exhausted wife was grateful for. Dave had held the 8 pound 2 ounce baby boy for a short time after he'd arrived, noticing how he'd fit in his two large hands with both of his wildly flailing feet barely touching Dave's forearms and he was positive his shaving bag weighed more than his son did.

"I hauled ass, I can't believe he beat me here." Randy grinned gesturing to the boy behind the window, who was now being ushered to the back of the nursery for testing. "Looks like he hauled ass too." He had hoped he might make it before the baby did, but Randy was secretly thankful that he didn't have to witness anything that might have made him faint. Barbed-wire and thumbtacks were a piece of cake, but the thought of watching a woman give birth to something larger than a football made him a tad squeamish. "I would never have guessed it would go so fast."

"No kidding." Dave slid both hands into his scrub pockets and turned away from the window, knowing that the boy would be delivered to his wife's room before long. "Neither of my girls made it here this quick." He silently hoped that the uncomplicated, speedy delivery signaled a shift in the tumultuous events that had surrounded the last month and a half. "I hope this is the beginning of a peaceful season."

"Well maybe since he'd didn't put up a fight getting here; it'll mean you won't ever have any trouble out of him." Randy offered, thinking if that line of rationale were true, then he'd probably given his mother multiple hours of hell in the delivery room.

"I think God knows I can't handle much more than Audrey." Dave said with a tired laugh as the two men strolled the quiet hallway toward the cafeteria and the promise of a cup of stout coffee.

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It was over, the toughest part anyhow, but now Nancy was faced with a brand new dilemma. Suddenly, very lonely because she was by herself in the room, Nancy let her hand fall to the stomach that was noticeably flatter without her baby. Her eyes watered with fresh tears, because she wanted the baby right away and strangely…because she wanted her husband too…and she smiled when she realized that none of the wanting she felt was laced with the doubt that had constantly plagued her. At the moment, she couldn't care less about the fact that she had no clear possession of her past memories, good or bad—there was no concern for the key which was at home, nestled inside the box of Epsom salts, no concern for anything save for the delightful prospect of moving forward.

She finally had to share with others the baby boy that she'd been hoarding, because he was now here. But that wasn't such a terrible thing and she smiled, looking forward to holding her baby and yet growing the least bit impatient because her nurse hadn't made it back with him.

Another quandary she was kicking around was the fact that she had forgotten to ask Dave if they had chosen a name for the boy. Even wracking her brain, Nancy couldn't think of a name suitable…maybe a name she had harbored? Oh well…the name could wait, but she could not. The least bit tempted to hobble out of the bed and go looking for her son; Nancy twisted to find the nurse's station pull cord, when she heard the sound of the door as it creaked open. Her nurse poked her French-braided, blonde head around the door and with a wide smile she spoke.

"I bet you're ready for this little guy." The woman in Winnie the Pooh scrubs pulled the bassinet in the room behind her.

"Yes I am." Nancy told her and pushed up to a full sitting position in the bed. Her gaze lit on the tall figure of her husband who followed behind the bassinet and she was the tiniest bit surprised when she felt warmer at the sight of him. "What took so long? Is he okay?" Nancy asked in rapid fire manner, knowing that he'd been taken for tests.

"He's fine, but he's not fond of baths." The nurse laughed and lifted the boy into Nancy's arms, helping her to adjust the tangle of IV wires. "He's hungry, so I'll leave you to that task and just check on you later." The nurse retreated through the door, her absence filled by Randy Orton's presence, as he stuck his head in after a soft knock.

Dave motioned him in and Randy stood by, watching the tiny boy's infant huffs and the insistent twist of his tiny head, while he seemed to root around in a sightless search for food. "I just wanted to see how you were." He seemed out of place, nervous. "I'll come back later after he's done eating and then maybe I'll take your husband for something to eat."

"Only if you bring back something for me." Nancy said, touching the boy's cheek and smiling when his face turned instinctively toward her knuckle.

"Sure thing." Randy agreed ducking back out of the room and leaning against the wall by the door. A rueful smile twisted his mouth upward. Behind him in that room, he could hear the soft laughter of his friend…in that room a mother was feeding her new baby and a father who adored them both, was no doubt, watching in amazement. Randy turned on his heel and let his steps take him toward the elevators, feeling an immense weight of envy. He wanted the same in his own life and he could have had it, had not Samantha taken off on him. He could still have it, he thought with a measure of pride. Just not with her.

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Dave brushed back a glossy curl, tucking it behind Nancy's ear when it fell down over her breast and tickled the feeding baby's nose, causing him to squint. He listened to his wife's soft laugh and he sat back in the chair, watching the interaction between the two. Her eyes weren't clouded with exhaustion as he might have expected, but instead sparkled with a deep contentment that he hoped had a little bit do to with him. But still he knew that if her visible joy had nothing to do with him and everything to do with his son, he wouldn't mind. Just seeing her smile as she fed their child and grazed the baby's forehead and nose with soft fingertips was enough to erase all of the frustration he'd felt in the past few weeks. He cleared his throat, finally deciding that this was probably the best time for him to bring up the subject of the name he'd wanted to suggest.

"I was thinking." Dave began, scooting the chair closer.

"Hmm?" She murmured softly, looking upward to meet his eyes. He noticed that she seemed to be bewitched by the baby she held.

"We never really picked a name for a boy." He told her, broaching the subject gingerly. "There were plenty of suggestions for a girl's name; Anikah was Vanessa's idea and Audrey was determined to name her Houdini."

Nancy laughed, evermore fond of her unorthodox stepdaughter. "Well thank goodness, they're only suggestions." She met his gaze before continuing. "I had wondered about a name for him, but I couldn't remember whether we thought of one." Nancy smiled.

"I had one in mind. It came to me the night of the wreck, right after my match."

Nancy nodded, listening.

"I was going to run it by you." He said venturing a little further.

She nodded her head once more in agreement and then told him. "I think you should choose the name, so long as it's not something that gets him teased in school."

He was immensely relieved by her grin and the softness in her reception and it stole away the momentary shock that he'd expected to feel at her acceptance. Somehow he'd thought that she would feel deprived of the privilege of giving the boy a name, but deep inside he knew she wouldn't have. And since he suspected that she'd not had the time to choose a name prior to giving him the sonogram picture, he also was tempted to believe that she hadn't put much effort into choosing one in the past few busy weeks, either. "I'd like to name him Nathan…it's Hebrew and means 'Gift from God'. And also because your father's name was Jonathan and the two of you were close when he was alive…it sort of bears a resemblance to his name." He stared at her face, hoping to gauge her approval.

Nancy wasn't sure why she felt such a temptation to cry, but she quashed it, swallowing deeply as she looked down on the boy. It was endearing that he might have been thinking of her feelings when he had chosen a name. "We could call him Nate for short." She offered, seemingly content with the name. "He'll need a middle name too." She reminded.

"David." He said without hesitation. "Partially because it's mine but because it's also Hebrew and means, 'Beloved One.'"

Nancy nodded. "I like it. It fits him." She said, amused by the expression on her husband's face; he appeared much like an employee hoping for the approval of his boss.

Dave noticed that the boy seemed to be finished with his first meal, his head lolling to the side in blissful satisfaction and so he motioned for the baby, lifting him up in both hands.

The bundled boy was dwarfed by her husband's large frame and she smiled, noticing that he seemed completely devoid of the nervousness or timidity that most men usually exhibited when holding someone so small. "Let's see if you look like a Nathan." He said, as he held the boy staring down into his face. An uncoordinated flail of the baby boy's arms when the low rumble of Dave's soft voice seemed to jog his recognition caused his hand to jerk clip Dave's chin, bringing forth a grin from his father.

"Well there's that right hook." She heard Dave say in almost a whisper. He seemed to be lost to everything in existence but the boy, as he held him, quietly appraising the lips that worked in his sleep and the fringe of light lashes that cast a tiny shadow on his plump cheeks. Then finally he nodded, letting a grin lift his lips. "It suits him."

"I agree."

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He'd finally managed to track down the IP address and with vigilant eagerness, had gone straight to the residence where he knew Barren had begun her original correspondence with him. But that was merely the beginning of the agony for Owen. Pulling up to the curb across the street, he'd planned to stake-out the stylish townhouse for a short time before making contact with Barren, but he hadn't expected to see what he'd been faced with only a second or two after shutting off the ignition.

It had been her. He was certain of it. Wearing battered blue-jeans and a light blue jacket, stepping out of the townhouse and locking the door behind her, Barren O'Neal was the picture of casual beauty. But that wasn't what had his blood boiling and his heart thumping madly in his chest. It was the fact that she had been latched tightly to the arm of a tall, handsome man. Owen had watched the pair share their laughter and then he witnessed the man lift Barren into his arms and spin her around off of the porch to save her from walking in her heels through the freshly fallen snow. He saw the man put her in the car and then he heard her squeal with more laughter when the man made a joke of climbing practically on top of her in the passenger seat.

Owen hadn't missed that kiss. That was the kind of kiss that only lovers shared. Barren's laughter rang once more in his ear and he had to use every ounce of restraint in his soul to keep from dashing out of the car with his 9mm in hand and pumping a few rounds into the man's chest. Knowing that he had to keep his composure and remain in full control of his myriad of competing emotions, for the sake of his endeavor, was the only thing that kept him planted behind the wheel.

He had even followed the pair from the townhouse to the downtown shopping row, where he'd witnessed them stop for coffee and then with paper cups in hand the pair had dashed eagerly inside of a large baby boutique. Confused and infuriated, Owen exited the car, tucking his black hair beneath a ball cap, slipping on a pair of glasses for affect and followed far behind into the boutique—wisely he left the gun in the car beneath the seat, lest he be possessed of the notion to kill the man who was currently toying with Barren's hair.

He had no idea why Barren would be shopping for baby items and he felt his stomach lurch with sickness when he mentally counted the time since he'd last made love to her. Almost a month and a half…he was suddenly dizzy. What if she was carrying his child? It was possible…the timing was right. A sudden urge to panic threatened to hinder his effort to objectively spy on the two and he let out a deep breath to steady himself. Why else would she be doting on the racks laden with tiny clothing and squealing in delight when she lifted a smaller-than-small pair of tennis shoes between two fingers to show the man, who was nodding and smiling and massaging her shoulders from behind?

Had she felt the need to seek this man's help because she was pregnant? Had she slept with this man and convinced him that the child in her womb was his? Questions swirling around in his mind, sliced his tender ego like random razors and he felt himself enraged over the sight of the two. He knew for everyone's sake and because he hadn't been seen by Barren yet, that he had to get out of the store before he lost it completely and tore the man apart with his bare hands.

The bell on the door tinkled when it closed behind him and Owen gulped in lungfuls of the fresh cold air, hoping it would calm him. Choosing to end the day's surveillance, he stomped to the car and sank into the driver's seat deciding to resume his task the following day—when he was calm enough to think rationally.

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"Oh shit…" Randy mumbled, catching a glimpse of his sister's phone number on the display of his cell phone, as he finished paying for the new baby boy's gifts. "I don't want to, but I better take this or I'll never hear the end of it." He groused and passed the multitude of gift bags to Barren who nodded, accepting them and giving Randy space.

He was on the defensive the moment he answered, but was swiftly surprised when he detected the cheerful nuance in Lynn's voice.

"Randy?"

He stuck a finger in his other ear to block out the noise in the store. "Uh…yeah?" He watched Barren stick her tongue out playfully as she ducked out of the boutique into the cold to be seated on a bench out front.

"Um, how's it going?" Lynn was hesitant as she spoke, trying to approach her baby brother in some other manner than the hateful accusatory way toward which she always found herself bent.

Randy's brow pleated. "Well, I—good, I guess…pretty good." He practically stuttered in his shock, that Lynn would possible care about how he was doing. "Are you, um…are you okay? You don't sound like—yourself."

"I'm fine." Was her cheerful response. "What were you doing? I mean are you busy?"

Randy was dumbfounded by her apparent easygoing demeanor. "I was…I bought Dave's new kid some stuff." He scratched his head in befuddlement, wondering if she were about to blast him with a flurry of verbal insults.

"Nancy had her baby, huh?" Lynn said, her voice carrying a smile that he could not see, but could most definitely hear. "What did they have?"

"A boy." He switched the phone to his other ear and planted one hand on the back of his neck. "Lynn, uh—you, um…how do I put this?" He spun around staring at a crib set-up in the store and he flicked the mobile gently with a forefinger, watching the mobile as it began a wobbly rotation. "I'm confused. Normally when you call, you're…different—"

"You mean I'm normally a bitch?" She supplied, laughing.

"Yeah! Um, no…I didn't mean that…I meant." He stammered, knowing suddenly that he had set himself up to be cut to ribbons by her razor-sharp tongue.

"You may not have said it, but it's what you were thinking…" Lynn began. "And you were right."

"Huh?" Utterly bewildered, it was the only response he could force forth.

"Do you remember when we used to be kids?" Lynn asked, her voice carrying out on a soft sort of wistfulness.

"Yeah."

She laughed lightly. "I used to adore you."

Randy almost fell over. "Huh?"

"It's true…I know it's hard to believe, but it's true." Her voice fell to a whisper, before she laughed again. "Did you know, I prayed for you on Christmas when I was four? Of course you didn't get here until I was six, but you eventually got here…and the first time I saw you, I thought you were the coolest thing ever."

The tone of her voice told Randy that she was utterly serious and though he was robbed of any words, any fitting responses, he wasn't sure his dry mouth would have let his voice out anyhow.

"I used to pretend you were my baby and even when you got a little older, with all of your…freckles and big front teeth and your constant whining to tag along with me…" She sighed. "Even then, Randy, I thought you were the coolest thing ever."

"But now—" Randy began, his voice a mere scratch.

She softly ignored his words and she politely cut him short. "You were able to do all of the things that I never had the guts to do…You follow your heart and never your head. You're not afraid of anything…not in the ring, not anywhere. I was so jealous of you, because you never cared about time or timing…consequences or rewards." Her tears could be heard in her voice.

"Lynn—"

"Randy…I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn't care about you." Lynn was sincere. "I wish I could take back the things I said…And for what it's worth, I still think you're the coolest thing ever." Her voice had softened with her emotion.

Randy had to seat himself in a rocker beside the store's crib display to keep from falling down. Proper words eluded him and finally the weight of his inadequacy dripped away as he sat there absorbing the oddity of what his sister had just said. His silence must have concerned her, for he heard her say his name.

"Randy? Are you still there?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah…I'm here. I-I just don't know what to say, is all."

"I was hoping we could build on this and…maybe even start over." Lynn ventured, hopefully.

"I think that sounds good." Randy smiled, wiping away the smallest trace of moisture from his left eye. "I would really like that."

"Me too." She said gently. "I have to go now…but I'll call you in a day or so…if that's okay?"

"Yeah, yeah definitely." Randy said, finally able to stand to his feet. The two said goodbye to one another and then filled with newfound excitement, he exited the store.

Barren was seated on the bench and she glanced up at him with guarded curiosity. Seeing the glimmer of happiness in his eyes, she asked. "Everything okay?"

Randy reached down, gripping both of her lapels with his fists, and tugged her playfully up against him, planting his lips on hers and brazenly kissing her in front of the other shoppers on the lane. "Everything is perfect." He told her with all sincerity and then nuzzling her neck amidst her laughter, he whispered suggestive innuendo into her ear as he led her to the car and the warm privacy of home.

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"We're out of options where that woman's concerned." Sullivan informed, leveling a finger in Evan's direction. "I want you to get rid of her and move on to the brother."

Evan's eyes flashed with fury. "It just kills you not to be in control of everything, doesn't it?"

"I'm in control, God Dammit!" Sully blasted. "It's you who has no control over your objectives, your emotions, or your cock!" He rounded the desk and poured himself a shot of whiskey. "We've been trailing that bitch for six fucking weeks! And the closest we've gotten is in the panties of the sister of a man who Barren may or may not be with!"

"I'm close to finding out everything we need to know!" Evan shot back. "She trusts me. She wants to spend time with me and she's starting to tell me things."

"I want you to get rid of her, Evan." Sullivan drained the glass and poured another. "I want you to cut her throat, put a bullet in her head…I don't care how you do it, but get rid of her so you can search her apartment without restraint and find out where her brother is."

"I won't kill her." Evan said matter-of-factly, the line of his jaw set firmly.

"You won't, huh?" Sully asked calmly, defying the notion that he was furious.

"I won't, because I don't have to." Evan said matching Sullivan's glare and tone of voice. "I already know where Randy Orton is."

Sullivan lifted his brow. "And you're just now, seeing fit to inform me?"

"I was sitting right beside her, when she called him this morning." Evan explained. "And afterward she told me that he had been shopping for the baby boy that his friend had last night." Evan poured himself a glass of whiskey. "I probed and she told me that he was in Seattle where his friend lives…I'm sure Barren may be with him."

Sullivan nodded as if he might be satisfied with Evan's findings. "Fine, so then you'll have no problem killing Lynn and boarding a plane for Seattle this afternoon."

Evan clenched his jaw. "She doesn't have to die." He informed Sullivan with no sign of weakness peppering his voice. "I'll just leave without telling her. She'll just think I got tired of her and left."

Something wasn't right. Sullivan could see it in the man's eyes, could sense it in his obstinacy. He let the glass come to rest on the desk with a loud 'thunk' and then he rounded it, reclining in the chair behind it. "You're in love with her." He finally said, a condescending smile drifting to his face as he pressed his fingertips together in a steeple, touching them to his lips.

"Don't be ridiculous." Evan let his own glass slam down onto the desk. He was tired of Sullivan, tired of chasing Barren…tired of the whole damned thing.

"You're a dumb sunuva bitch, Evan…and your hesitation, your cowardice is gonna cost every one of us!"

No longer able to keep his temper in check, Evan exploded, reaching across the desk and grasping the front of Sullivan's shirt, tugging him halfway out of the chair. "Don't ever insult my mother or my heritage again!" His voice was little more than a stern snarl. "And don't ever mistake my discretion for cowardice!" He was swiftly pulled off of Sullivan by the two attending cohorts who set him back a few feet from the desk. "I approached this the best way possible, considering the circumstances and it worked. So stop second guessing me…your haste is what's going to cost us all!" He conformed as Sullivan smirked and straightened his wrinkled shirtfront. Without waiting for an answer, Evan strode smoothly from the office and slammed the door behind him, bound for Lynn and scrambling for a way to hide her so she would be safe, should Sullivan decide to kill her himself.

Back inside the office, Sullivan stood to his feet, poured himself a third and final glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter. "Follow him…keep an eye on him." He instructed the two men who remained in front of him. "But don't kill him." He sipped the liquor. "I'll decide when he's of no further use to me."

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