He was intrigued. Intrigued enough to want to know more, certainly. She was open and upfront when he asked questions, but never proffered information and didn't ask much at all about his personal life, he did all the asking.
Sooner than he wanted, he arrived at the arena-he wasn't first, but he was plenty early. He grabbed his gear and went into the locker room, Charlie still occupying his thoughts. No sooner had he put his bags down, one of the creative team came looking for him.
"John, we have a few edits to the storyline. Nothing major, but enough that we want to replace your notes. If you give them to me, I'll bring them right back and show you the differences."
John looked in his bags, to no avail. "Oh, you know what-it's in the car, I was looking over it while I was eating lunch and I didn't put it back, give me a sec and I'll get it to you."
The writer nodded. "Thanks, I'll be in the office."
He grabbed his keys and jogged outside to the parking lot. He unlocked the door and bent down to pick up his notes. He glanced out the window before he stood back up, and there in the corner next to the wall, sat a very familiar Mustang.
Charlie sat in the security meeting, with the security leads for the arena and WWE. Also sitting in on the meeting was Triple H. Finally, everyone was satisfied with the plan for the night and stood up to go start their work. Paul tapped her on the shoulder.
"So, I don't see you for a decade and then twice in as many days? How's that work?"
She picked up her paperwork and fell in stride with him as they went backstage. "I've been at almost every show. You just don't come into medical because you have your own people, and I don't come into the talent area unless I'm specifically asked."
"Then how did you end up treating me that night?"
"I was with friends, in the audience. I saw it happen, and I saw your quad roll up like a window shade. I called backstage to the guy doing what I usually do, and told him what happened and to start the ambulance now, not to wait until the WWE docs asked for one. He asked if I'd come back and help out, so there I was."
He nodded. "So, I was lucky to get someone capable. We changed a lot of what we do as a result of that night and how you handled it. It hadn't occurred to us that WE might have an emergency."
John found the medical area and opened the door. Someone else was behind the desk. "Can I help you, Mr. Cena?"
"Is Charlie here?" he asked?
"Yup, she's here. Security team meeting. Do you need her for something?"
John thought for a moment. "No. In fact, don't even tell her I was here looking for her. I'll come back."
The show went well. Full of surprises and twists like most shows during a build up to a big pay-per-view. Right along with it were injuries occurred as a result of alcohol and not paying attention mostly, but there was a whole lot of them. Everyone was cleared out except for the last two people, who had had an altercation with each other in the entry doors and decided that they'd continue it while getting bandaged and checked out. By the time that was settled through, and all the public was out, Charlie was beat. As soon as her team was checked out, she collapsed onto the office couch with her face in the pillow.
"I seem to keep being drawn to this view of you."
Charlie turned her head toward the voice. "Huh?" she said, finding John at the door.
"I seem to find myself looking in your direction and seeing your ass first."
"What is it with you and commenting on my butt, exactly?"
"So, why didn't you tell me you were going to be here?"
Charlie blinked. "Now who's avoiding questions?"
John took off his baseball cap and ran his hand through his hair. "Can I close the door?"
Charlie got up, and moved to the desk. "Sure, if you want."
John sat down. "I need to ask you a question."
"Sure, shoot."
"Did I piss you off or something, Charlie?"
She stopped looking at her paperwork. "No. If you pissed me off, you'd be the first to know. I don't keep that in very well."
"Well okay then, your demeanor towards me was different at your house than at either show, or even today at the hospital. I'm trying to figure out what's up with that."
Charlie sighed. "Here, and to some degree when I'm doing volunteer work, I'm *working* and my focus is on that. You saw a rare moment of downtime for me, I don't have many of those. You didn't do anything. You just saw an anomaly."
"Oh I see. It's not you, it's me. Let me be more clear. I like you. When I saw you this afternoon and I realized that the Miss Charlotte everyone spoke is such glowing terms about was actually Charlie who called me jorts-boy the night before and you were sitting there on the floor covered in frosting, I don't even know what happened. First, it was damn adorable. Second, I realized when I was walking TJ back to his room, my heart was pounding for no reason at all. It had to be because you were there."
She sat a moment and thought about what John had just dropped on her.
"You don't know me. We met yesterday. I think we have potential to be friends, even good friends-but seriously-now is not the time to address this. I won't say what I'm thinking in the way I mean it."
"So say it anyway."
"Whether you know it, or do it intentionally or not; everytime I see you, you flirt and you flex and you assume your reputation precedes you. You may be Captain Popular and used to getting your requests met because you're...you. There's no way in hell I can be friends with that over the long term. I am not the only one who was different in my house."
John stood, and nodded. "I understand. I'd like to keep in touch, if that's alright with you."
"Sure, John. I'm sure I'll be right here the next time the WWE is in town."
He slipped out the door without further word.