Houston, We Have a Problem

A/N: So this is a story I've been sitting on for a looooooooong ass time. I first had the idea a few years ago, not as a wrestling story, and then it creeped up on me again a few months ago. Last night, when I was trying to decide which direction my fanfic writing would take, I opened the file again and fell in love with the concept all over. I hope you guys like it.

As is usually the case with my stories, I feel I should warn you about about one little thing, just so as to make sure there's no confusion. This is a Dave/John/OC-centric story. Other pairings include, but may not be limited to: John/Trish, Randy/Ashley, Edge/Lita. If you're not fans of those people, or can't get past the idea of reading them as featured, or recurring characters, you might want to skip this story. I totally understand that not everyone is a fan of the same people I am. I also understand that some people feel much more passionately about their character-hatred than I do. Just thought I would warn you before you waste your time reading something that's going to piss you off completely.

Okay, I'm done rambling. As is the case with everything I write, I don't own the WWE, any of it's characters, or anything remotely related to the aforementioned. Your reviews are welcomed, and encouraged. And I hope you all Enjoy!

"You've got mail," the tiny voice inside John Cena's computer informed him as he turned his laptop on and sank to the couch he had so desparately missed over the last few months.

Being the WWE champion was the culmination of a dream for the Massachusettes native. The duties that came with the title were not. If he had known, when he was growing up and wishing for this life, that it would take him away from all of the things he loved so frequently, he would have put all of the hard work and striving on the shelf and been happy with the construction jobs his brothers had.

Well, maybe not, but John was sure happy to be home. Clicking the Outlook icon on his desktop, he waited for the mailbox to open and tapped his feet anxiously. "Come on," he encouraged as the computer seemed to take longer than normal to think. "I've got a party to prep for."

Being home was nice. Showing off his new house to his friends was even better. They had all relocated to Florida within months of each other, but John was the last to purchase a home and establish roots. Being engaged to Trish Stratus, feeling the weight of nearly being thirty, he had finally decided that it was time. Now that they all had a little bit of down time, he was excited to show them the life he was starting to build.

He clicked through several e-mails from family and friends. There were a few from porn sites he subscribed to, a few others from business associates. The final message was one that caused his heart to jump. Clicking on the subject line, he waited for the note to open.

John,

I'm sending you the last pictures we had taken of Keegan at Wal-Mart. Nothing fancy, but I think they're even better than the last ones. The McDonald's one is from her birthday party last weekend. By the way, she loved the My Little Pony purse - it was perfect. The last picture is of her very first "big girl" bed. The money you sent was more than enough for the bed and three pairs of really nice sheets. Thank you so much.

Jennifer

As he studied the attached photos, John felt a smile tweaking the edges of his lips. His daughter, Keegan, had just turned four, and she was absolutely beautiful. She was also his best-kept secret.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of her. Quite the opposite - he loved receiving update messages from her mother, knowing what was going on in the life of the little girl he helped create, and seeing her grow through photos and the occasional video file. Her blue eyes danced in direct reflection of her father, but her olive skin and dark hair was all from her mother.

John had been living in Los Angeles when he met Jennifer Houston. A part time bartender and full-time student, she had a warm smile and an inviting air about her. She also had a bouncer boyfriend that John was well-aware could kick his ass without much provocation. The pair talked when he would take a night off from training to visit the bar, but otherwise had little contact.

So when, on his first overseas trip with the WWE, he found a sullen-looking Jennifer tipping back one too many drinks in a German bar, he had been quick to re-introduce himself and buy the next round. She was in town for a friend's wedding, some exchange student she had met in high school and kept in touch with. She was no longer dating the brick wall, and the man who had accompanied her to the wedding left her there to fuck the mother of the bride in a coat closet.

He was suffering from a serious case of homesickness and general "Am I Cut Out For This" blues. So they shared their laments, and a few more rounds before stumbling to his room in the wee hours of the morning. For more than four hours, they found solace in one another. And when she woke up, he was gone.

John had forgotten Jennifer, and the fact that he had left her his e-mail address, until he received a message nearly a year later.

Mr. Cena,

I know you probably don't even remember me, but my name is Jennifer Houston. We had a few drinks in a bar in Germany a while back, and the attached photo is the consequence of that night. I'm not asking you for anything - in fact, I would prefer you not try to contact us - but I thought it was only right to let you know that you have a daughter. Let me make it perfectly clear that I am in NO WAY asking you for ANYTHING. My moral conscience, however, dictates that you at least know about her.

Jennifer Houston

It had taken him nearly three months to respond, but when he did, it was to make sure that Jennifer knew that he wanted to keep this indescrection on the downlow, but that he appreciated her honesty. While he wasn't comfortable with anyone knowing he had a child, he was more than willing to help support his daughter in any way that he could. Within weeks, he began receiving updates, and sending money when Jennifer mentioned that Keegan needed something.

When she had finished school, Jennifer secured a job in Miami, moving her daughter to Florida. Since moving to the same state himself, John had been tempted numerous times to call the mother of his daughter and arrange a meeting. But something always stopped him, either a scheduling conflict, or a deep-seeded fear of actually seeing Keegan face-to-face. It seemed best this way - the system they had worked fine.

The front door clicked securely as Trish's voice rang through the halls. "Hey, Sweetie!"

Closing the message, John began to shut the computer down as Trish entered and draped her arms around his neck. "Hey you," he smiled, lifting his head for a kiss.

Keeping his secret from her was the hardest of all. She was going to be his wife soon, and a part of him said she deserved to know. But she was never going to have to meet Keegan. And that meant, at least to him, that she had no reason to find out about something he had done a lifetime ago.