Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination. This story contains various scenes that are for people 18 years of age and older ONLY.
Chapter Content & Trigger Warnings:
Unwanted sexual advances

Chapter 29

"Be good for Leena tonight, okay, kiddo," Sharlotte said, ruffling Noah's hair. She was in the middle of dropping him off at her best friend's house so she could get to work for her closing shift at Hooters.

"I will, Mom," Noah replied, as Sharlotte rang the doorbell.

"Come in," Leena's voice could be heard calling out after the loud chime.

Sharlotte opened the door and entered with Noah. She found her friend in the living room tidying up some magazines on the coffee table. "Are you crazy," she asked. "You should never just tell someone to come in. That's dangerous!"

"I don't normally, I promise," Leena assured her. "I just knew it was about time for you to get here with Noah, is all."

Sharlotte nodded, still a little unnerved. "Okay. Sorry, I just... That scared me a little. I worry about stuff so easily lately." She moved to sit down on the sofa and swayed slightly as she lowered herself.

"Are you okay," Leena asked immediately sitting down beside her. She looked over at Tyler and Noah. "Boys, go upstairs and play, or watch TV or something, okay? I want to talk to Sharlotte in private."

The boys headed for the stairs but Noah seemed to hesitate, giving Sharlotte a worried glance. Tyler tugged on his arm. "Come on, Noah. Did you bring WWE 2K13 over?" The two boys could be heard chattering as they hurried up the staircase.

"Are you okay, hon," Leena asked, turning to her friend when she was sure the boys were in Tyler's room. "You look so tired and...frail," she finished. "Is everything all right?"

Swallowing hard, Sharlotte nodded. "Yeah. Noah's doing so much better. So..."

"That's not what I asked," Leena said softly. "I asked if you're okay."

Sharlotte tugged her lip between her teeth. And then nodded.

"Sharly... I know you better than that. What is going on? You can tell me."

The urge to spill her guts hit her hard—the need to let someone at least know some of the worries in her life. She started to speak, but faltered as a lump formed in her throat. She swallowed and tried again. "I am tired, Leena. So tired." A tear fought it's way from her eye and spilled down her cheek. "Hooters...it's... Ugh, it's horrible. But between waitressing and my job at the library, the pay's great, so I can't quit. And someone's stalking me—threatening me. And threatening John. I-"

"Whoa," Leena said softly, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "Let's take this slower or it's not going to help. What's horrible about the Hooter's job besides the fact it's obviously wearing you out?"

"James—the manager—he's... He's hitting on me. Very forcefully. I can't get him to stop."

"What about filing a sexual harassment claim with the corporate office?"

Sharlotte shook her head. "There's no camera's in the building. It's my word against his. He doesn't do anything till we're closed and everyone else is gone. I have no proof. I have a feeling he's done this many times. And clearly, he's gotten away with it."

Leena puffed out a sigh. "Okay... We'll come back to that. Tell me about the stalker."

"They started on Twitter. I thought maybe John had an obsessed fan who was angry at me. They taunted me about how many women he's had. They knew about Noah and I visiting his home because the first tweet they sent me was the day after, and asked if I'd enjoyed screwing him."

"It's got to be Jasmine Greenberg," Leena said, a touch of anger in her voice. "She's just trying to-"

Sharlotte shook her head. "I thought so too, but it's not her."

"How do you know? This is the exact kind of thing she would do."

She shook her head again. "No. It's a man. He's... He's made that very clear."

Leena's forehead creased with apprehension. "What do you mean? Sharlotte, what's he saying to you?"

A sob broke from her lips as she repeated some of the vile tweets. "He's said that John will get bored with me—that was about the mildest of all his messages. I tried blocking him but he just made a new account and then threatened me—saying that I don't want to anger him. The tweets got worse after that. He told me he might stop by my house sometime and show me what a 'real' man can do for me. Then a few nights ago—the last time John spent the night, he tweeted me while I was closing at the restaurant. He said he loved how my "ass" looked in the Hooters shorts. And he could imagine my legs-" She paused a moment, fighting off a panic attack. "It sounds even worse saying this stuff out loud. He could imagine my legs wrapped around him. I glanced up—at the windows. Because I knew he was somehow watching me. I saw a black SUV speeding from the parking lot. Then he tweeted me again, and made me answer him when..." She sighed, a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. "He asked me if I was telling John about the tweets. And implied if I was, that he'd do something to John—like cut his break line or something. He calls me his 'little librarian'." She broke down then, covering her face with her hands as she sobbed. A few seconds later, she felt a shift in the sofa and then Leena's arms went around her in a comforting hug.

"Sharly... Everything will be okay. But you have to quit that job. You need some rest. And you have to tell John about-"

"I didn't tell you all this just so you'd tell me to do exactly what I know I can't do," Sharlotte snapped. "I just needed someone to know—to offer some support. I can't quit the job because Noah has to get into that private school! And I can't tell John. Not telling him is the only thing keeping him safe!"

"Sharlotte-"

"I have to get to work," she cut Leena off. "I'll pick Noah up when I get off."

She rose from the sofa, a little unsteady on her feet and left without so much as a goodbye to her close friend.

Deep in thought, Leena remained on the sofa. Fidgeting, and battling an internal struggle, she finally picked up her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts. Tapping the Dial icon, she waited for an answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Leena. Listen... There's something you really need to know..."

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

"What the fuck was she thinking?"

John growled his thoughts out loud as he sped through the streets of Tallahassee. He shifted gears on his rental and continued on his way to Hooters.

Did she think I couldn't take care of any of this shit for her, he thought angrily. I'm her boyfriend. It's my job to protect her. But how can I, when I don't even know something's wrong? She told me nothing about any of it!

Frustrated and angry, he reflected on the conversation he had with Leena hours earlier.

"I know I'm jeopardizing my friendship with her by telling you this, but her safety has to come first—and you have the right to know."

"What is it, Leena," John asked. "Is she okay?"

"No, she isn't. She has taken on a second job—at Hooters. Waitressing. It's exhausting her. She's making herself sick. And a guy she works with is... well, he's harassing her. And she can't prove it."

"Sonofabitch!"

"Yeah. And, John? There's more. Someone's stalking her. He started out tweeting her. But now... She said he's starting to show up at her job, and threatening to come see her at her home. He's even nicknamed her his 'little librarian'."

"Fuck! Why the hell didn't she tell me," he demanded.

"Because the stalker's threatening you as well, and she's trying to protect you."

"Damn it! I'm supposed to protect her! Not the other way around."

"Please, don't be too hard on her, John. She's had to cope with this for weeks. Alone. She didn't' know what to do. She looks like she's about to crack under all the pressure."

His phone rang then, jarring him from his thoughts. Cursing under his breath, he answered the call, putting it on speaker without even having to look at the screen. "Yeah?"

"Hey, it's Cesaro. Just making sure everything's okay. You left the show in a hurry and you seemed angry. Where are you?"

"No, everything isn't okay, Cesaro," John bit out. "I found out my girlfriend has been keeping a bunch of secrets from me. I'm currently in Tallahassee—almost at Hooters—where she works a damned second job I just found out about!"

There was a brief silence, followed by Cesaro's very inadequate: "Oh, shit."

"Precisely," John agreed. "Not to mention, her boss is harassing her, and she has a stalker who's terrorizing her."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Not at the moment," John replied, pulling into the Hooters parking lot. "But I may need you to bail me out of jail when I get through with her boss and when I find out who's scaring the hell out of her."

"I don't blame you. Seriously though, if you need anythingjust ask, brother."

"Thanks, man," John replied, as he stopped his car right in front of the building. He didn't bother to park in a space. "Listen, I've got to go. I'm here at Hooters, and-" He glanced up at the huge windows then. He watched as a man sneaked up behind Sharlotte while she was bent over, cleaning a table, and swatted his hand down on her butt. Then he proceeded to drag her to the kitchen area.

His vision went red. "Oh, fuck." He threw his car door open.

"John? Talk to me, man."

"Can't right now, Cesaro. This prick may not live. He just smacked Sharlotte's ass, and now he's manhandling her."

"Shit! John-"

John ignored his friend and went storming up to the entrance, instantly yanking on the door.

Locked.

Determination etching his features, he spun around and ran for the back of the building. He could see the back door standing open, and Sharlotte's cries of anger began to reach him.

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

Sharlotte wiped at one of the dirtier tables in the dining area, trying to get the residue of food off the surface. She was eager to get her work done and leave. James had acted particularly strange that day, and she highly suspected he may have been drunk or high on something. She wanted nothing more than to get away from him.

"Honestly, do parents have to just let their children tear the place apart," she wondered out loud.

SMACK!

She felt the sharp pain of a slap on her butt. She cried out from the shock of it and spun around to find James leering at her.

He lunged forward and latched onto her wrist.

"Let go," she yelled at him, trying to pry his hand from her wrist.

"I'm so tired of the taunting, Sharlotte," he growled, flinging her none too gently up against the wall and pinning her in place with his hips, while one of his hands restrained her wrists above her head. "You bend over in those shorts, and you know fuckin' well what it does to me, you little whore." He leaned forward and nipped at her neck.

"Let go of me," she screamed. "I wouldn't wear these stupid shorts if I didn't have to. Its part of the work uniform, you idiot!" She yanked on her wrists, struggling to free herself. "I said, let me go! I don't want this—or you!"

"Quit being such a cock tease, you little bitch!"

"LET GO OF ME!"

Sharlotte slammed her knee up into James's groin and watched as he sank to his knees in front of her, almost sobbing in his pain.

Suddenly, John was rushing into the kitchen from the back door and she gasped in shock.

How did he know, she wondered. How- Am I hallucinating?

She watched as John grabbed James by the collar, hauling him to his feet. "That's the woman I love, you piece of shit. Touch her again and I'll fucking kill you." Then he punched him in the stomach as hard as he could.

"You'd really kill someone over that piece of ass," James wheezed out.

John yanked him so close their noses were mere inches apart. "The last man who laid a hand on her is dead, pal. Don't try me." He tossed the smaller man aside then and shot a scathing look over at Sharlotte—who was watching him with wide eyes. "Where's your things," he asked. "I'm getting you out of here."

Easily able to detect his anger, she picked her handbag up from the counter behind her, as well as the clothes she wore to hide her work uniform. "John, I'm sorry- But you don't understand- OH! Put me down!" She kicked her legs as he slung her over his broad shoulder and carried her out the back door. "JOHN CENA! You put me down! RIGHT NOW!" He ignored her and proceeded to carry her toward his vehicle. The blood rush to her head was beginning to wreak havoc. Her vision blurred and her stomach threatened to empty. "Seriously, John. Please. This is making me dizzy. Gonna be sick..."

He finally set her down without a word, and trapped her body against his rental with his own frame. "Why did you lie to me," he finally spoke. "Why the second job? Leena didn't give all the details. She didn't have time because I got in my car and drove like a bat out of hell to get to you. And what is this about a stalker?"

Sharlotte flushed, and managed to open her mouth to speak. But that was as far as she got. Bile rose in her throat and her legs turned to rubber. She shoved John out of the way as she crumpled toward the pavement, and succumbed to a series of heaves and abdominal spasms as she vomited what little food she had left in her stomach. She was vaguely aware of John supporting her weight and holding her hair back while she was sick. Even through his obvious anger, he rubbed his hand tenderly over her back in soothing circles. When the heaves subsided, his hands left her briefly. Glancing up at him, she saw him retrieving a spare t-shirt from the back of his car and wetting it down with a bottle of water.

"Here," he said gently, handing her the shirt. "Use this to wipe your mouth. You can rinse your mouth with the rest of the water."

She took the wet shirt and wiped over her lips with it. Then she took a sip of water, swishing it in her mouth before spitting it out on the pavement. "Do you... Do you happen to have any mint gum," she asked. "It would help settle my stomach." A white square of gum was handed to her instantly. "Thank you," she said softly, popping the gum into her mouth and chewing vigorously.

"Let's get in the car and go somewhere to talk, okay," John suggested, his voice low and soft. "You'd be more comfortable."

She nodded, and allowed him to help her to her feet. Then he opened the passenger door and lifted her into the seat. Moments later, he was sitting beside her, and driving down the street.

"Where are we going," Sharlotte asked, glancing over at him. His silence was very unnerving.

"Your house. We can talk privately and comfortably that way."

"I really need you to say something, John," she said after a few more minutes of neither of them speaking. "I can't handle your silence."

"Look, we're almost to your house," he told her. "I'm pretty sure we're going to have our first argument, and I don't want us to get into an accident while we do, okay? Just hang on a minute."

She sighed, but realized he was right. They didn't need to get themselves killed while arguing. What if he breaks up with me, she thought, fidgeting. I'm in love with him. I don't want to lose him.

He pulled into her driveway then. "Just because we have a fight doesn't mean we're breaking up," he said softly as he killed the car.

Sharlotte shot a glance over at him, amazed how he could read her so well.

He turned to face her. "Couples argue, Sharlotte. It's normal. I know you're new to relationships but you need to know right now...I'm not breaking up with you. When I told you I loved you, I didn't mean I loved you till we have our first fight. You're it for me." With that, he got out of the car without giving her a chance to reply. He came around the car to her side and helped her out of the seat. "Let's get you inside, and comfortable and we'll talk."

The next few minutes went by quickly as John settled her on the sofa and got her a cup of tea to help with her stomach. Then he sat down on the sofa beside her.

"Okay, let's start over. You need to tell me everything. Since I have taken care of the boss problem, let's start with the stalker. Do you know who it is?"

Sharlotte had wanted him to speak, but now it was her turn, and she didn't like it too much. She shook her head. "No. He went by AnonymousTweeter till I blocked him. Then he came back with a new account—AnonymousTweeter_2. I call him AT2—it's quicker and easier to say..." She knew she was rambling. But she couldn't help it. She didn't want to go into the horrible details. But, judging by John's exasperated sigh, and the way he was impatiently drumming his fingers on his leg, she knew she would have to.

"How do you know it's a 'he'," John asked.

"Because... B-because of the things he says."

"Sharlotte, please stop stalling, sweetheart. What does he say to you?"

"John, I... I can't. I can't tell you. He will-"

He stood to his feet. "Why the fuck not?" He rubbed the back of his neck as he paced back and forth in front of her. "Do you think I can't take care of this? Do you think I'm not enough to protect you?"

Sharlotte gaped at him. "God, no, John. That's not it at all. It's just..."

"Tell. Me."

"John, I know you're strong. And I know you can fight. I've seen you. But... This is different. This guy is threatening you with stuff like cutting your break line!" The hysteria she'd struggled to hide over the past couple months bubbled to the surface. "I don't know who he is! So, how can you protect yourself, or me, when you don't even know who to look out for?" Her emotions took over and she let the tears she'd been fighting for the past hour, fall at last.

John sat beside her on the sofa and picked her cell phone up off the coffee table, tapping the screen.

"What are you doing," Sharlotte wiped at her cheeks and reached for her phone.

"All you're doing is telling me that he's threatening me," he replied, holding the phone up out of her reach. "I want to know what the bastard is saying to have you so terrified."

"Don't," she cried, lunging for the phone. "You don't need to see-"

"Okay, so I've been with a few women," he declared, scrolling through the tweets. "That's not going to scare you. What else..."

John shot to his feet again when he found the more sinister messages. "God, Sharlotte! Why the HELL didn't you tell me about this? He's fucking watching you! He's threatening to..." He couldn't finish the thought. It was too horrendous.

Sharlotte trembled at his words. Hearing John say it out loud... Having to acknowledge the truth... It was frightening. "I... I want you to be safe," she finally whispered. "I knew I couldn't handle you getting hurt—or worse, because of me. So I tried to deal with it for myself."

Leena's request came back to bite John strait in the ass.

Please, don't be too hard on her, John. She's had to cope with this for weeks. Alone...

He puffed out a sigh and sat down beside her again. "Okay. I'm sorry. We'll discuss this more later. Now, why did you keep your waitress job a secret from me?"

Sharlotte sighed. "Well, obviously I knew you wouldn't like the job choice. But it was the only job listed in the ads that I was qualified enough for. And the pay along with my library job is great. I get awesome tips and I need the extra money to save—for Noah. He is going to that private school," she said, determination crossing her face.

"So why isn't your sister helping you? She's his biological mother, after all."

Sharlotte paled slightly. "She... She, uh... She left us. She left me to raise Noah. That's why he calls me mom. He's now my son."

John swallowed hard. Jesus. She's had so much to deal with. He tugged her into his arms and kissed the top of her head when she pressed her face into his chest. "I am so sorry, Sharlotte. I wish you'd told me all this. I could've helped lighten the load for you. I'd be happy to pay-"

"See? That's partly why I kept it a secret," she said softly, pulling back a little to look up at his face. "I knew you'd offer to take care of the schooling. And I can't let you do that. Noah is my responsibility. Not yours. And you have no right to dictate how I take care of him."

Well, hell, John thought in realization. She's not the only one keeping secrets. I have to tell her about Noah. Tonight. He dropped his head, partly from shame; partly from dread. "Look, Sharlotte. I need to tell you something. I didn't want to have to blurt it out like this, but-"

His words were cut off as Sharlotte's phone rang.

She grabbed it from him, somewhat relieved that whatever he was about to confess was put on hold. I can't handle much more, she thought. Not tonight. She looked at the screen and saw it was Leena. New found anger at her friend made her head pound. She's the reason this is happening right now. She took the call anyway. "Hello," she answered the phone, a slight coolness in her tone.

"Sharlotte," Leena cried. "You need to get over to Capital Medical Regional Center! I don't have all the detailsthe hospital just notified me, but, Noah... He's been hurt!"