Someone in the World

Summary:All she has is a dead father and a junkie mother. Harlan hits the road and is thrust into a risky situation. Against the odds, she finds what she thought she would never have again: hopes and dreams. A story of discovering that family doesn't need to be connected by blood. (Story is rated T but later, individual chapters will be M with the introduction of a romantic angle)

Warnings: Strong language and violence. Also: scenes of a sexual nature. (A rating of M is posted at the beginning of a chapter)

Disclaimer: This is all fiction! It all came from my crummy brain. Any songs, cars, movies, TV shows, celebrities, known wrestlers, or even brands mentioned all belong to their respective owners. The only people I "own" are the obviously fictional ones, such as Harlan Grace Matheson, her family, Ray and any other fake characters that pop into this. As wrestling fans, I trust we all know who I made up and who is real...That reminds me, if anyone happens to have that exact name combination (Harlan Grace Matheson), sorry...It's pure coincidence and chance. I spent several days coming up with that name. Please don't take it away from me.


Harlan's nose twitched as the metallic tang of blood wafted towards her from the cage in front of her. Rather than put her off the entire thing, it actually excited her. She had watched the matches ahead of her and while most had been relatively tame, a few had been brutal; the rougher men with nothing to lose had tainted the mat which now had to be changed.

Sitting in her chair with her hood up, she had caught words from the onlookers about the Russian fighter she'd be facing. Harlan felt the adrenaline begin to pump through her body the more she heard about the other fighter; apparently, the only thing remotely feminine about Irina was her name.

Checking her cell phone for the time, she realized she'd be up after the next fight. Getting up from her chair she began to stretch, using the chair as a prop for some deep leg stretches. Ignoring the curious eyes of the people around her, she focused on her stretching and didn't even notice the man who had approached her.

"Are you Harlan?" the man said behind her, breaking her concentration.

Turning, she saw an older man with a comb-over, a toothpick between his lips and a towel around his neck. The man held a metal bucket; a water bottle, black tape and gloves were inside of the bucket.

"Yes" she said, guessing he would be in her corner for the match.

"I've got these gloves and tape for you; you don't have to use the gloves, but I'd definitely use the mouth guard" the old man said, holding out the bucket for her to rummage into.

Harlan took the black tape and saw a mouth guard had been underneath it; she was relieved to see it was still in the original packaging. Nodding her thanks at the old man, she sat down and took off her shoes. Expertly, she wrapped her feet in the tape and did the same to her hands. Hopping up from the chair, she bounced on the spot a few times and practiced a few jabs.

"Show me your defensive stance" the old man barked out. She did as he asked and watched as he walked around her, looking at her from various angles.

"Move your left arm a little bit; no, the other way, there you go" he said, guiding her.

Harlan's heart raced as the spectators reacted to the match going on inside the cage. Taking deep breaths, she practiced her kicks, low and high, stretching between kicks until she was satisfied with how limber she felt and the height she was able to reach.

"Sit down and take off that sweater" the old man said.

"Uhh… Why?" Harlan asked him, her eyebrows rising as she spoke.

"Do you want to get knots in your shoulders and arms? Because that's how you get knots" the man explained.

"OH! Thank you, but it's not necessary" Harlan said politely, figuring out that he wanted to massage her. He was probably right, but she wasn't in the mood to have the hands of a stranger on her skin.

"Listen, girly. I'm too old to be trying any kind of indecent tricks with women. I couldn't get a rise in my pants even if Miss Alabama herself showed up tonight. You don't want to get in that cage without being ready; sit your ass down so I can get all the stiffness out of your damn shoulders and arms" he ordered her.

Too stunned to even argue, she took off her hoodie and draped it on the back of the chair before sitting down. The man massaged her shoulders and arms as they waited out the current match. She had to admit, he was doing a good job and by the time the match ended, she was glad she had listened to him.

"Looks like you've had a few rough battles already" the old man commented, patting her shoulders when he had finished the massage.

"You could say that…" Harlan said, wanting to avoid any explanations or conversations about the scars. She just wanted to get into that cage and fight out her demons.

Before he could give voice to whatever was going on in his head, Irina's music hit. Loud and creepy chants rang out from the speakers, and Harlan couldn't help the shiver which crept up her spine. It sounded Latin, or something; whatever it was, the chants seemed to hold all manner of dark promises. Harlan watched as Irina walked through the crowd; the people parted for the Russian and Harlan saw the tall woman wrapped up in a red silk robe making her way to the rickety wooden steps leading up to the cage door.

The chants filled Harlan's head as her heartbeat increased and the adrenaline shot through her veins. Her stomach tightened and she remembered to take in deep breaths through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. She punched her fist into the open palm of her opposite hand as she jumped on the spot. With one final deep breath, she removed her baggy jeans and waited for the room to quiet down after Irina's music stopped.

Heavy metal music filled the air as Harlan's music hit. "ROOTS! BLOODY ROOTS!" screamed the male vocalist as Harlan proceeded to walk towards the cage.

At least I picked a perfect song…

"She's not too fast, but she's a heavy hitter. Keep that in mind in there, and good luck" the old man said behind her as he followed her.

Entering the cage, Harlan focused on why she had decided to do this. She thought back to the house in Canada and the good times, but then she forced herself to revisit her mother's decline after the loss of Harlan's father. She thought back to all the alcohol, the drugs, and the many times she had to clean up after her mother and even pay the dealers herself.

But in the end, she cared… She had cared about me even after I had left her to rot in her own filth… I abandoned her, and she saved me…

The old man followed her into the cage and offered her the water bottle. Harlan took a sip of water as the old man took the mouth guard out of the package. Returning the bottle to him, she opened her mouth and allowed him to slip the mouth guard into her mouth. Adjusting to the feel of it, Harlan returned to her thoughts as she made eye contact with the tall Russian at the opposite end of the cage.

And now Dean has run off; the problem is me, it's obvious. I've spent so many years blaming others, when it's been me all along…

Irina's pale blue eyes met Harlan's gaze, and the two women stared each other down. The tall, solidly built Russian seemed calm and confident. Considering Irina probably had 30 pounds of sheer muscle over Harlan, for a second Harlan couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she had made a mistake in coming here.

Harlan didn't even hear the announcers speak as they rattled off statistics and information; before she knew it the old man was patting her on the back before getting out of the cage. The referee asked both women to come forward to shake hands; both Harlan and Irina had chosen not to use the padded gloves most fighters opted to use. Harlan didn't hear a single word the referee said after that. Both women parted and backed away from each other; the only sound Harlan did hear was the sharp ring of the bell, signaling the start of the match.

The women watched each other carefully, lightly hopping from foot to foot in a circle at the middle of the cage. Irina's fists shot out in a short two-jab combo, but Harlan successfully side-stepped out of the way. The Russian tried again, this time with three jabs which Harlan blocked, but she managed to catch Harlan off guard with a low kick to Harlan's outer thigh.

Surprised at the amount of strength behind the kick, Harlan groaned as the force threatened to knock her backwards; regaining her balance, she looked up in time to see Irina's leg shooting out in another kick, this one aimed at her midsection. Harlan quickly chopped, her hand slamming down against the Russian's ankle and derailing the course of the kick.

I need to get on the offensive…

Impatiently, Harlan decided to rush Irina, successfully tackling her down onto the mat and holding her there in a side lock, her arms wrapping around the larger woman's torso. Expertly, Irina swung her legs up and managed to push up against Harlan's chest, forcing Harlan to let go. Not giving the Russian any time to recuperate, Harlan collapsed on Irina once again, this time hooking her arm behind Irina's head and wedging it against her side in a topside guillotine choke.

With a grunt, Irina powered out of the choke hold, standing and wrapping her arms around Harlan's core and pushing her back against the cage. The cold metal fencing bit into Harlan's back painfully as the Russian's weight knocked the breath out of the lighter redhead; Irina held her there, her foot sweeping against Harlan's ankle in an attempt to make her lose her footing. The third sweep was harder and higher; Irina's heel bit into the back of Harlan's knee, and she instantly dropped down onto the mat. The Russian landed on top of her and took advantage; her fists pummeled Harlan's side over and over. With every hit, Harlan's breath hitched in her throat and her ribs felt like they would cave in. Shuffling, Harlan did her best to keep her back flat against the mat, minimizing the amount of body Irina could hit. Squirming, Harlan fit an arm between their bodies in an attempt to keep her torso covered.

Fuck, what the hell…. What now?

Remembering a clip Punk had recently sent her, Harlan wrapped her legs around Irina's left thigh, squeezing and pulling down, forcing the Russian to lose the height advantage. Unfortunately, when Irina collapsed onto Harlan, her shoulder slammed down onto Harlan's face, causing her to momentarily lose vision in her right eye; black spots dotted her vision and she lost her grip on Irina's leg.

Groaning, Harlan felt the Russian shift her weight, trying to gain the advantage once again. Even though she still couldn't fully see out of her right eye, Harlan made good use of the extra room she now had. Quickly, Harlan drew her legs up against her chest, and pushed against Irina with all her might. The Russian tried to push back and force Harlan's legs back. Knowing she wouldn't be able to overpower the Russian, Harlan went for something unpredictable and surprising. Harlan caught her off guard by changing her position; she wrapped her legs around Irina's left arm. With an annoyed frown, Irina had no choice but to slither out of the hold and get to her feet, backing up from Harlan and giving her room to stand.

Harlan rose to her feet and gingerly swept a hand across her face. Looking down, she was glad to see there was no blood on her hand. A spot above her right eye throbbed, and Harlan hoped against all hope there wouldn't be a bruise there in the morning. Refocusing on the Russian, Harlan kicked out and landed a body kick, then followed it up with a few quick jabs, but Irina blocked those and rushed Harlan. The two locked up, arms around shoulders, before Irina overpowered her and threw her down onto the mat. With a frustrated growl, Harlan bucked her hips hard, her legs swinging upwards and her body curling up and over Irina. Irina let out a surprised gasp as she felt Harlan's legs wrapping around her right arm in an arm bar. Somehow, Harlan had managed to wrap around Irina, and Harlan was now on top, squeezing the Russian's arm with her legs, her right leg resting on top of Irina's head and forcing her to stay down.

The crowd cheered at the surprising turn of events, and the bell rang to signal the end of the first round. The cage was opened to allow the support staff access to their respective fighters. Harlan was barely aware of what the old man was saying, and she nodded absently as he wiped her face clear of sweat and offered her the water bottle once again. Her ribs ached and her head throbbed, but rather than focus on the physical pain, she kept her mind on the emotional pain. Like a mantra, she kept going over her perceived failures in her mind. The support staff left the cage and the door was locked once again. The two women rejoined at the center and the bell rang.

Right off the bat, Harlan rushed forward to deliver a combo of several jabs and body kicks. She managed to land a few before Irina pushed forward, using her larger body to her advantage. Once again, Harlan's back was pressed against the cold metal fencing of the cage. Irina hooked an arm around Harlan's head and pulled hard, trying to force Harlan down onto the mat.

Oh, hell no… No, you don't

With a grunt, Harlan used Irina's own strength against her, creating momentum to roll forward and land on top of the Russian. Irina's legs swung out in an attempt to wrap around Harlan's legs or torso; Harlan extended her arms and used her upper body to bear down on Irina's legs, but Irina managed to rest her calves on Harlan's left shoulder. The Russian pulled down with all her might, forcing Harlan lower and closer to her.

Shit, shit, she's going to wrap around my arm

Sure enough, the Russian's arms grabbed onto Harlan's left arm in a sort of modified Kimura lock. Mustering up all her adrenaline and strength, Harlan stood with her legs wide apart and bucked her hips, pushing her pelvis against Irina's arm for leverage while simultaneously lifting.

The crowd cheered in awe as Harlan had miraculously managed to lift Irina; sure, it wasn't very high, but it was high enough to drop her back down, hard. The high impact throw stunned the Russian, and her limbs loosened their hold. Harlan took advantage of the time and rained down elbow jabs onto Irina's body and head. Harlan lost her composure and focused solely on nailing jabs as hard as she could; the only thing keeping her going was pure anger and shame. To Harlan's delight, she saw Irina's bottom lip swell and split, a thin line of blood trailing down the Russian's chin.

So lost in her self-defeating thoughts and apparent blood-lust, Harlan failed to notice when Irina's right leg came swinging upwards. All Harlan felt was Irina's knee suddenly connecting with her rib cage. Harlan lost her breath, completely winded as the sharp stab of pain coursed throughout her entire torso. Irina capitalized on the moment and threw a massive left hook at Harlan's chin. Pain erupted on Harlan's face, and she fell backwards, rolling off the Russian and landing on her back on the mat. Irina scrambled up and locked her legs around Harlan's hips, keeping the top position.

Through the haze of pain, Harlan brought her arms up to guard her torso, but to say it looked feeble was an understatement. Despite the pain, Harlan bucked wildly and tried her best to unseat the heavier Russian, but it wasn't working. Irina's jabs rained down on Harlan's arms and shoulders, until one wild jab managed to clip Harlan's forehead. For a moment, she saw nothing but black, and then stars. A familiar wet feeling let Harlan know she was most likely bleeding from her forehead.

Not again…WHY is it ALWAYS my goddamn HEAD?

Through sheer instinct and rage alone, Harlan tucked her chin and shuffled downwards, using her smaller frame as an upper hand. She slid down the Russian's body and quickly shot out at Irina's side, instantly locking her arms around her neck. She swung her legs around the Russian's hips, and Irina stumbled on her knees, landing on her side. Harlan scrambled to get on top, and she did. Specks of blood flew out from the gash on Harlan's forehead and landed on the canvas as the two women squirmed for control.

Harlan grinned, showcasing her black mouth guard; blood rained down on Irina when Harlan had managed to squirm her way to the top position. Irina tried to cover herself as best as she could, not wanting to have her vision obstructed by Harlan's blood. The two women continued to squirm and fight; Harlan tried to gain the full mount and Irina went on the defensive. The spectators roared as it became obvious that Irina was losing grip as everything was fairly slippery from all the blood. Finally, Irina managed to roll onto her stomach and Harlan gained a full mount on the Russian's backside. Knowing she would soon become lightheaded, Harlan wasted no time in getting in every jab she could onto Irina's back. Harlan knew full well she was punching the Russian harder than was necessary, but she was beyond giving a damn. Every single negative emotion came out of her as she beat her fists onto Irina's exposed backside.

Realizing Harlan wasn't going to stop, the referee rushed forward and grabbed Harlan's arms, breaking things up and stopping the match. The bell rang as the ref watched to see if Harlan could dismount and stand on her own. The cage door was opened and the support staff rushed in. On wobbly legs, Harlan walked to her corner and sat down on the stool the old man placed there. She spit out her mouth guard into the bucket and hissed in pain as the old man rinsed out her forehead.

"Good news is I think you might win the match. Bad news is you'll need stitches for this" he said, dabbing at her with a wet cloth before he applied a wad of gauze and taped it down with medical tape.

"… I don't even know if I still have ribs" Harlan wheezed, wincing as she brought her fingers to her sides. Pushing past the pain, she prodded herself in an attempt to make sure it was only bruising. From what she could tell, there wasn't anything broken.

"Let me" the old man said. Without waiting, he reached forward and poked and prodded all over Harlan's midsection. Harlan shouted in pain as the old man was definitely less gentle than she had been. With a nod, he reassured her there was nothing broken.

"Alright, girly. It's decision time" the old man said, nodding towards the middle of the cage. Harlan gritted her teeth and got up from the stool. With her jaw clenched, she walked through the pain in her midsection and ignored the nonstop throbbing of her head; Irina met her in the middle of the cage and surveyed her. The blonde Russian's pale blue eyes stared her down unblinkingly before her hand shot out in an offered handshake. Harlan reached forward and accepted the gesture.

"It was a pleasure" Irina said in her heavily accented voice.

"I'm sorry I bled all over you" Harlan replied lightheartedly, a small smile on her face.

Irina's face didn't change, but the seriousness left her eyes. Harlan supposed that would be the closest thing to a smile she would see on the Russian's face.

"I am sorry I made you bleed" Irina retorted. Harlan almost snorted in an attempt to choke back a laugh. The ref reappeared and stood between them as the makeshift ringside officials called out the match stats and numbers. None of it meant anything to Harlan; she wasn't interested in technicalities and numbers. She didn't even care anymore about the winner; she had come here to fight out her demons, and she had done so, and she was still standing and breathing.

No waking up in hospitals this time…

In what felt like slow motion, the ref raised Harlan's arm as the officials declared her the winner. The crowd whistled and cheered; the outcome and crowd response surprised Harlan and she blinked in amazement. The sights and sounds flooded her senses, and coupled with the blood loss, she began to feel completely overwhelmed. Taking a step towards the cage door, Harlan stumbled lightly. The ref reached out and stabilized her, waving over the old man. The Russian and her team left the cage first as the old man did his best to support Harlan.

"Are you going to be okay getting out of here?" he asked her, worry in his voice.

"I'll be fine" she mumbled out. Painstakingly, they made their way down the rickety wooden steps and then to the chair she had been sitting on while watching the show. With effort, Harlan dragged on her baggy jeans and hooded sweatshirt. She didn't even bother removing the tape from her hands and feet; she slipped on her shoes and redid her ponytail, ignoring the fact the hair nearest her forehead was caked and matted down with blood.

A man with several envelopes arrived and handed her the payment she had won for the night. Looking in the envelope and quickly seeing how many bills there were, she guessed there was around $100. It wasn't considered normal to receive pay for most MMA matches, but that was only because most promoters wanted to stay legal and keep the sport clean. Judging by the money and the location of the event, she guessed this was one of Sawyer's less than legal connections.

"Thanks a lot for everything" Harlan said with sincerity in her voice. The old man nodded at her and watched as she walked away and out of the shed. Once outside, she let out a breath and took out her cell phone from her jean pocket and then found the cab driver's card. Ignoring the fact she didn't see any returned calls or message from Dean, she went ahead and dialed the cab driver's number. After arranging for a pickup she began the walk through the automotive repair shop and abandoned city parking lot.

With every step, Harlan discovered a new pain. Her thigh throbbed from Irina's many kicks, and her arms felt as heavy as lead at her sides. To say she was exhausted was an understatement. Although it had felt great to be in that cage, literally punching her way through her inner demons, she knew it wasn't a solution. Dean hadn't tried to contact her, and she still had to deal with lawyers regarding the house in Canada. Her little stunt hadn't solved a single thing for her.

Limping her way out of the alley next to Landry's Crab Shack, she leaned against the seafood restaurant's closed door to wait for the cab. She jumped slightly as she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, she tried to stay completely neutral as she fished her phone out of her pocket to see who was sending her a message. Disappointment filled her as she saw Peyton's name flash across the phone's touch screen.

Peyton: What's going on? Sawyer says you asked for some action. Talk to me, please

There was no point keeping anything from anyone anymore; Dean knew now and that's what mattered. Harlan tapped out a reply to Peyton and shoved the phone back in her pocket; she briefly noticed there were messages from Phil and Randy, but she decided to leave them unread.

Harlan: I'll tell you everything when I'm back in Florida. Forgive me.

The cab arrived and Harlan climbed into the back seat, groaning slightly as her entire body protested against the movements.

"What in the heck did you get yourself involved in?" The cab driver exclaimed. He caught sight of the gauze taped to Harlan's forehead and the way she stiffly maneuvered her way into the cab.

"I owed people money" Harlan joked with sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Who!? Are you okay?" the cab driver asked, sincere concern in his voice as he slowly edged away from the seafood restaurant.

Harlan fought the urge to roll her eyes, mostly because her head was really starting to feel really light, and slowly leaned her head back to rest against the back seat's headrest.

"Sorry, I was kidding. I participated in a cage fight" she said, deciding to be honest with the friendly driver. In most places, cab drivers were not this involved, but this could be chalked up to Southern hospitality.

There was a brief silence during which Harlan guessed the driver was digesting her words, debating with himself as to whether or not she was being honest this time. When he spoke again, it was clear he believed her, and after assuring him she would be fine and only needed to get back to the hotel, he fell silent and let her rest. Her phone buzzed again in her pocket, but she ignored it, choosing to stare up at the car's carpeted ceiling instead. Arriving at the hotel, she straightened in her seat with a loud groan of protest.

"Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor instead?" the driver said, trying one last time.

Harlan smiled bitterly and instead handed him cash to cover the trip and his tip. Opening the door, she thanked him and climbed out of the cab. Stiffly, she made her way to the hotel lobby doors and walked in, heading straight to the elevators and ignoring the curious glances the hotel staff shot her way.

Holding onto her rib cage, she watched as the glowing numbers above slowly reached her level. With a soft ding, the elevator finally reached the lobby and the doors slid open smoothly, a faint whoosh of air escaping and fanning her face. She cringed as a new spasm of pain rolled through her midsection, but also because of who was in the elevator staring back at her.

"What the hell happened to you?" Randy exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief at her disheveled appearance. Noticing the way she was holding onto her ribs, he shot forward to help her walk into the elevator. He had tried getting a hold of her via text message, but when she hadn't replied at all, he had decided to head out to find her.

"Would you believe me if I said I fell down the stairs?" she tried, hoping to sound carefree but her voice was so clearly strained.

"Try again" the tattooed man said. Grabbing the key card out of her hands, he asked her for her room number and hit the appropriate button on the elevator panel. In silence, they rode the elevator and he helped her walk down the corridor. Reaching her door, he opened it and held the door open with one arm, supporting her with the other.

Shrugging him off, she walked to her bed and collapsed onto it, instantly regretting her face first position. She heard the light sound of footsteps as Randy neared her, and the bed shifted as he sat down next to her.

"You're going to tell me what happened, and you're going to tell me right now" he said, his deep voice holding no room for debate. Dean didn't strike him as the type to beat a woman, but the last Randy had seen of either of them was right before she confessed everything to the blonde man.

"He didn't take it well when I admitted everything. He walked out on me and I went and took a beating in a cage match" Harlan explained, the bedding muffling her voice.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me" Randy muttered with disapproval showing in his smooth voice.

"I won…" Harlan chirped out in a weak attempt to make it all seem better.

Unknown to Harlan, the disapproval in Randy's voice was aimed at the Shield member. He definitely understood Harlan's choice to get involved in a fight, and he could even understand Dean being angry about a perceived betrayal; but what he couldn't understand was Dean's decision to walk out on the redhead. Randy knew Dean had been around for worse when it came to Harlan. A huge frown clouded Randy's face as he got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom. He came back with a first aid kit and a few hand towels, as well as the bucket intended for chilled champagne filled partially with water. Setting it all down on the floor, he sat back down on the bed before reaching out to place his hands on her body; one hand grasped her hip and the other gripped her shoulder.

"I'm going to turn you over, okay?" he warned her. Carefully, yet swiftly, he turned her so that she was on her back. His usually cold blue eyes held sympathy for her as he watched her biting back the pain. It was obvious she was in a lot of discomfort. Noticing the black tape still on her hands, he gently unraveled it. Reaching down for a towel, he dunked it in the bucket and wrung out the excess water before gently wiping away the dirt and grime from her hands. The coolness of the water helped to soothe her bruised knuckles.

"Ambrose is going to hear it" The Viper vented out loud as he dropped the towel back into the bucket and leaned over to remove Harlan's shoes from her feet.

Sighing, Harlan argued, "No, don't… Don't make it worse"

"It's not right; he shouldn't have left you alone back at the arena" Randy said, sounding extremely annoyed and frustrated. Unraveling the tape from her feet, he repeated the same process as with her hands. The cool water soothed her aching feet, and she whimpered. His heart hardened at the sound, and he made a snap decision. He dropped the towel back into the bucket and got up from the bed.

"Don't move. I'm going to grab some ice" he lied, walking out of the hotel room and heading towards the elevator. As he walked, he grabbed his phone and called the front desk. Obtaining the information he needed, he entered the elevator and basically punched the floor number. He waited impatiently as the elevator made its slow ascent. Finally reaching the right floor, he strode towards the suite The Shield was staying in.

"Dean!" he roared while pounding his fists on the door, not caring one single bit how late it was.

"AMBROSE!" he roared even louder. He heard the soft click of the door handle turning and watched as the door slowly opened.

"What the hell, man" Seth protested groggily; his dual-colored hair was sticking up at all angles and he rubbed his eyes.

Randy simply glared at Seth and pushed his way past the younger man. He ignored Seth's protests behind him and walked right into their room to stand waiting with his arms crossed against his chest. Finally, another door opened and the lunatic fringe himself ambled casually out of his room.

"What the fuck? Some of us are trying to sleep" Dean mumbled. Randy was never someone he wanted to see, much less this late at night.

Frowning, Randy approached Dean and jabbed a finger into the blonde man's chest.

"And some of us are lying in a bed, in pain, after getting beat up in a cage match because your selfish ass walked out" The Viper growled, staring down at Dean.

Silence stretched as Randy's words lingered in the air; behind him, Randy heard Seth's sharp intake of breath, as well as Roman's deep voice.

"Harlan" the Samoan stated.

"What the hell are you talking about, Orton?" Dean said, backing up out of Randy's reach. He wasn't stupid, he knew what the older man was saying, but he was still angry as all hell. He couldn't help it.

"I thought I was pretty clear. You walked out on your woman, and now she's battered and bruised" Randy spat out angrily.

"Did she at least win?" Dean asked, feigning detachment. He desperately fought the urge to ask which room she was in. He knew what he was supposed to do, what was right, but he didn't want to give in. He wanted to not care.

Seth jumped forward as a vicious snarl tore its way out of Randy's mouth; the bearded man arrived just in time and he quickly wedged himself between the two men. Roman came up behind Randy and wrapped his big arms around him, pulling him back by sheer force.

"Calm down! Take it down a notch, alright?" Seth said, looking up at Randy.

Turning his head, Seth then glared at Dean.

"Man, we're your brothers, and you know we always have your back, but you're going too far" Seth admitted, siding with Orton. Checking to make sure both men looked relatively calm, Seth lowered his hands and stepped back, nodding at Roman. Roman let go of Randy and stepped back.

Disgruntled, Dean ran a hand through his wavy and sleep-tousled hair.

"I know what I should do, but it's not that easy. I'm genuinely….hurt" Dean admitted with difficultly. It almost sounded like saying the words out loud was more hurtful than the inner turmoil itself, and truthfully he would have preferred not admitting something like that in front of Randy.

"You're both hurting, but she's literally bleeding because of it. You need to act like a grown ass man and put your anger aside" Randy said, holding out Harlan's key card.

Jaw clenched, Dean took hold of Harlan's key card and nodded in agreement. Dean hated the fact Randy was in his suite acting as the voice of reason.

You know things are bad, when…

"You'll thank me later" Randy smirked. He was unable to resist the opportunity to take a jab at Ambrose.

Ignoring the remark, Dean walked into his room to grab a shirt and shoes before walking out towards the door to their suite.

"Room 410" Randy called out as Dean's hand touched the handle of the door. Dean hesitated for a moment before finally opening the door and making his way to the elevator. As the lift descended to the 4th floor, he did his best to choke down his feelings of anger and hurt. It's not that he was prone to holding grudges, but for whatever reason this situation had him seething like never before. It was like he understood everything in his mind, but he his feelings weren't getting the memo.

The elevator door opened and he made his way to Harlan's room. Slipping the key card into the slot, the door beeped lightly and he turned the handle, pushing the door open slowly. Walking in, his eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness.

The soft sounds of Harlan's labored breathing reached his ears, along with the occasional whimper. His heart raced as he kicked off his shoes and left them near the door before carefully making his way to the bed. Once at the bed, he looked down at her and just like that, all the anger melted away. She was asleep; her eyes were clenched tightly, her brows drawn together in a deep frown. Even in her sleep, her hands gingerly held onto her ribs. Softly, another pained moan escaped her lips.

"Dammit, Harlan" Dean cursed under his breath. Reaching down, he took the towel out of the bucket and wrung the water out before sitting down next to her and wiping the sweat from her face. Gently, he held the cool towel down over her right eye, seeing the slight bump which had formed.

"Randy… Don't tell Dean" Harlan mumbled; slowly, her eyes opened as the touch of the towel managed to wake her from her fitful sleep.

He didn't miss the way her body froze when her eyes focused on his face. A look of shame crossed her features before she tried turning her head away from him, but his hand cupped her cheek and stopped her.

"I'm sorry" Dean whispered; his thumb caressed her face. He wanted to say more, but he found it difficult to form the right words. Instead, he continued to wipe the sweat from her face and neck. In silence, Dean cleaned the gash on her forehead and changed the gauze. Supporting her head, he removed the hair band she was wearing. Gently, he did his best to wipe away the dried blood from her hair, using his fingers to comb out her auburn hair.

Clearing his throat, he broke the silence and asked her to show him her ribs. He helped her sit up and watched as she took off her hoodie. He reached forward and pushed aside her long hair. He cringed as he saw the bruising along her back and sides; even in the moonlight, the angry blotches were obvious against her pale skin.

"It's just bruising, nothing is broken" Harlan explained softly with her head bowed. Her long auburn hair cascaded down her back as Dean let it fall into place. Her breath caught in her throat when his arms unexpectedly wrapped around her from behind, careful not to hurt her ribs.

"A cage fight? You shouldn't have done that…" Dean berated her lightly.

"I thought you were gone for good; I thought I had run you off" Harlan whispered in a voice thick with emotion.

He wanted to kick himself for being the asshole who had made her feel that way; she'd put her body on the line because of something he had done. With a sigh, he leaned down and rested his forehead against her shoulder.

"I was hurt, still am, but it doesn't excuse what I did. I'm a fucking asshole for walking out, and I'm just glad you weren't seriously hurt because of my stupidity" Dean admitted. She could hear the regret and the self-loathing in his voice, and it made her heart skip a beat.

Biting back the pain, she shuffled in his arms until she was facing him. Reaching up, she rested her hands on his shoulders.

"Stay here tonight…" she whispered as she buried her face into the side of his neck.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart" Dean replied quietly.

After making sure she had no other injuries and helping her into more comfortable sleepwear, Dean put away the first aid kit and the other supplies. Returning to the bed, he ditched his t-shirt before climbing in next to Harlan. He chuckled lightly as he saw she was already fast asleep. As much as he wanted to hold her, he didn't want to risk hurting her in his sleep. He made himself comfortable on his back, his hands to himself, and he was about to close his eyes when he felt her moving next to him. He watched her and noticed she was definitely asleep, but still she rolled onto her less injured side and cuddled up against him. Her body curled around his arm and her hand found its way into his. With a soft smile, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head before closing his eyes.


A/N: So...I feel I should admit I haven't seen too much MMA. I'm aware of the sport and I've seen a handful of matches, but I don't follow it and I couldn't tell you anything about it off the top of my head. This took a lot of YT and Wikipedia LOL. Irina's song, by the way, is a song used by a real MMA fighter. The song is called "Enae Volare Mezzo" by some girl named "eRa", and it's used by some guy named Fedor Emelianenko. Harlan's song was Sepultura's "Roots Bloody Roots". Methinks the next update will involve a time jump. BTW, I loved the reactions to Dean walking out on Harlan. You guys are the best. See you soon!