A baby let out a frightened shriek as the commercial airplane shook and dipped violently, jolting Roman Reigns awake and toppling a cup of dark wine from the tray of the harassed looking business man next to him. Before he could become upset with the red liquid soaking through the leg of the gray sweats he wore, the cabin shuddered and bobbed once again. Roman frowned darkly and lowered his headphones as the pilot's voice floated out over the anxious passengers.

"This is your captain speaking. I am very sorry about this turbulence, everyone. A storm has changed course and came in off the ocean. We tried to get above it, but that's just not working, and things are only going to get worse from here. It looks like we're going to have to make an unscheduled landing in Atlanta." The voice was silent for a few moments as the man in charge of their flight gave his charges a few moments to grumble. "Again, I apologize. As we have already been cleared, we will be landing in ten to fifteen minutes."

Grimacing at the thought, Roman had to admit that stopping in a random city was preferable to a fiery death due to crashing or a lightning strike. He put his tray away and his seat in its original upright position before the uniformed girl at the front of the cabin could give the instructions. Looking forward to being able to lie down and rest his aching body, Roman gripped the armrest and waited.

Maybe there was a bright side to this whole thing after all. Staying in a hotel for the night would allow him to have some peace and quiet while he could be away from Mariah and her petty problems. He had no clue when the woman had gone from being loving and helpful to a jealous and clinging bully, but then he had been just as confused when she started introducing herself as his girlfriend a few months ago. Now, he was debating whether or not he should just call the whole thing off.

The landing was the bumpiest Roman had ever experienced, and he was glad when the go ahead was given and people began to stand and retrieve their belongings from the overhead compartments. He allowed most of the other travelers to clear the aisles before he stood and followed suit. Two flight attendants tried to slip him their numbers as he left, and he sighed heavily as he politely refused their advances.

The trouble really began when he entered the main concourse of Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport in search of a quiet corner. A small boy recognized him, and he was obliged to stop for a quick photo. This quickly snowballed into a large crowd all attempting to get his attention. When a few people started pushing and shoving, he began to worry that someone would get hurt.

"Excuse me!" The woman's voice was at once professional and demanding, though nowhere near as shrill as Vicki Guerrero. "Everyone, excuse me please."

Two security guards moved people to the side as a woman wearing a deep blue dress uniform jacket and slacks smiled at the disheveled customers surrounding her. "Mr. Reigns needs to follow me. If everyone else would please form a line, we have vouchers that can be used at any of our dining establishments. Please turn to your left and see any of the people wearing green. They will be pleased to assist you."

Retrieving his bags, the woman passed them off to one of the guards before motioning him to follow her. "Let's get out of here while they're distracted."

Chuckling, he obeyed. "Thanks."

"It's absolutely no problem. My name is Vera, and I am in charge of customer service. We have a VIP lounge just around the corner, where you should be quite comfortable."

"Yeah, I should probably see about getting a room."

Vera offered a reluctant smile. "I would be glad to help you with that, but there are officially no rooms to be had."

"I'm sorry?" Roman had been through this airport a few times and could recall a wealth of hotels around it.

"The weather rolled in quickly, and the hotels surrounding the airport filled just as fast. Those in the city proper are hosting conventions and conferences this week, and so are also now completely booked. Quite frankly, the VIP lounge here will be safer, more comfortable, and far cleaner than any room you could find vacant."

When the large mirrored door opened, Roman had to admit that Vera had a point. Two large flat screened televisions graced opposite walls. A fireplace crackled merrily at the far end of the room. Stuffed chairs and leather couches were arranged artfully around the room. There was no way in hell that he was going to pass this up in favor of a fleabag motel somewhere.

As he turned to thank Vera for her help once again, a door to the side opened to reveal a nicely appointed bathroom and a tiny woman. She wore a dress with a ruffled, layered hem in contrasting patterns of checks, stripes, and lace. A long, white crocheted cardigan topped off the outfit, sashed with a black scarf and making her appear as if she had stepped out of some indistinct period of the past, though he had the feeling he had seen her before. Bright copper hair hung in a thick braid over her shoulder.

"Hello," her smile was open and welcoming without a hint of the leer he had seen in many of the women in the airport concourse. "Alison Hedland."

Suddenly recognizing the name, Roman smiled and shook her hand as gently as his giant paw would allow. "Roman Reigns."

"Should I call you Roman or Mr. Reigns?" Alison knew her dimples were showing, but she couldn't help but smile widely in reaction to the grin on his face.

Chuckling, he nodded. "You're a fan?"

"I grew up with a lot of brothers in a military family. There's no way I could get by without watching wrestling. I guess it just sort of stuck."

"Well, lucky for us! Please, just call me Roman."

Vera let them know where they could find a stack of menus for restaurants in the airport, and gave them a direct number to reach her for any of their needs before she left to attend to other duties.

Roman couldn't stop looking at the little copper haired woman with the large emerald eyes. While her music wasn't to his usual tastes, he would admit to having a few of her songs on his iPod. Seth and Dean both agreed on some of her more guitar driven songs, though they had others that they did not share. Alison Hedland was a superstar who regularly sold out arenas, wrote music that made others feel deeply, and inspired dirty thoughts in men and women the world over.

And Roman felt like the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet to have ended up being stranded with her.

"So, where were you headed?" Sinking down onto one of the leather couches, Alison began picking through the menus.

"Home to Pensacola." He joined her at the other end of the couch. "We've got the next three days off before we have Raw on Monday."

"Sucks that you have to spend your days off in an airport." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "At least you have comfortable clothes, though. Mine are suck on the plane, and I thought nothing could happen on such a short flight, so I didn't bring any on board with me."

"There are worse places I could be right now. I've got a shirt and some shorts you could borrow." Roman chuckled. "And I should probably call my mom and Mariah before they both start freaking out."

Alison smiled and motioned over her shoulder to the bathroom. "How about I go change while you make your calls?"

Pulling one of his Shield t-shirts from his case, he located a pair of drawstring shorts that he hoped would work on her petite frame. When she smiled and slipped into the other room, he couldn't help but follow the natural sway of her hips. Shaking his head sharply, he focused on the calls he needed to make.

His mother was glad to hear he was safe and told him to let her know when he was going to take off again. Hanging up with her, he took a deep breath and then called Mariah's cell phone. It rang four times before going to voicemail, and she called him back as he was leaving her a message.

With a silent curse, he accepted the call. "Hey."

"Hey!" Her voice was way too loud, and he knew instantly that she had been drinking. The loud, thumping music pulsing through the speaker had him curling his lip in distaste.

"Are you seriously at a club right now?"

"So what if I am? It's not like I'm a child. Besides, I had to find something to do while I waited for your flight!"

"So getting completely trashed to the point of not being able to pick me up at the airport sounded like a good idea?! Besides, don't you have work in the morning?"

Her heavy sigh had him gritting his teeth in frustration. "It's only 9:00, Roman. Besides, I've been thinking about quitting for a while now so I can take care of you."

"What?" Now frustrated beyond reason, he growled lowly. "Look, I'm stuck in Atlanta. I'll call you when I get home."

Hanging up before she could respond, he listened for any movement from the bathroom. Hearing none, he quickly dialed Dean's number and smirked when the other man answered. "'Sup?"

"Nothin' man. Just waiting on a connecting flight. You home?"

"Nah, hit one hell of a storm and had to land in Atlanta."

"Dude, that sucks!" Dean was well aware of how frustrating traveling could be. "You swarmed yet?"

"It looked bad for a second, but they put me up in a VIP lounge for the night since the local hotels are booked and they didn't want a riot on their hands."

"That's fuckin' sweet, man!"

Roman smiled widely as Alison stepped out of the bathroom, holding the hem of the shirt up with her chin and rolling the top of the shorts down so they would fit her more snuggly. There was something inked into the skin at her right side, though she was too far away for him to make out what. When she let go of the shirt, it fell to mid-thigh and nearly obscured the shorts completely. Her legs were toned and bare, ending in impossibly tiny feet.

"Yeah, it's not all bad." Roman chuckled. "You'll never guess who is currently stranded here with me."

Dean huffed. "I fuckin' hate games, man. Just tell me."

"Alison Hedland just stepped out of the bathroom of the VIP lounge wearing one of my Shield shirts and a pair of my athletic shorts because she only had a dress."

"You've got to be shitting me right now!" Dean's voice at once held disbelief and pride.

Seeing Alison sinking down on the couch once again, he motioned toward his phone. "My friend Dean doesn't believe that we're sitting here together."

"Dean as in Ambrose?" Alison had been a fan for years, and was happy to see him finally making a real name for himself in a company that had standards for the talent's welfare.

Alison motioned to the phone. "Put him on speaker."

Roman hit the button. "You're on speaker, so try to behave."

"What's the point in that?"

Alison giggled. "Hello, Mr. Ambrose. How are you doing?"

The line was silent for a moment, and then Dean's boisterous laugh cracked through the air. "This really Alison Hedland?"

"Yes, sir. I'm about to post a pic to twitter that'll serve as proof if you follow me."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see it. Now, take me off speaker, you fucker."

Alison chuckled and decided to prove Roman wasn't lying to his friend and ruffle a few feathers all at once. Retrieving her phone, she pulled up the camera and switched it to take photos from the screen so she could see herself. Twisting to get Roman in the background, she waited for him to notice and flash a small smile before taking the picture.

She captioned it with 'Look who I ran into while stuck at the airport #Stranded #NotComplaining' and posted it to Twitter. She wondered briefly if she would get many death threats, and then decided that it didn't matter. Obsessive, weird fans were the same the world over, and she refused to have people she didn't know impacting her ability to be silly and have fun.

Roman finished his call and soon looked back to her. "So, where were you heading?"

"I was on my way to Tampa for a show after visiting my parents for their anniversary." Holding up the menu for One Flew South, Alison smiled. "You're a sushi person, right?"

"Oh, hell yeah." Accepting the heavy cardstock, he began looking over the selection. "You ordering from here?"

"Nah, I need something with a little more fat content." Holding up the menu for GRINDHOUSE Killer Burgers, she grinned. "This is all me."

Roman chuckled. "You want more fat?"

"My metabolism is out of wack and I have to have a certain level of calories and fat when I'm on tour, or I just can't keep up and then I end up in the hospital with exhaustion."

"Huh," Roman shrugged. "Well, everyone's body is different. We all have to learn how we work."

After calling Vera to figure out who was in charge of their dinner orders, Alison put on a pot of coffee while he flipped through the television channels and ignored two phone calls.

Observing him while he was focused on Sports Center, Alison let her eyes wander slightly. His muscle structure was quite impressive, the black ink decorating the length of his right arm a beautiful testament to his Samoan heritage. He had his hair pulled back into a low bun, and Alison found herself anticipating when he would finally let it down. The man was beautiful, but she knew he had to have someone waiting on him at home.

When he growled in frustration and sent yet another call to voicemail, she frowned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just dealing with some bullshit at home."

Nodding, she stirred some half and half into her coffee and joined him on the couch. "Well, I'm a pretty good listener if you want to talk about anything. Won't go spreading it around, either."

Roman remained silent until their food arrived and she spread dressing over her salad before digging in with gusto. If he wanted to talk, she would listen. However, she wasn't going to badger anyone into a conversation they didn't want to have. Checking her Twitter, she giggled at the comments she had received and that she and Roman Reigns were now trending worldwide.

Roman ignored three more calls before he had finished his first round of sushi and then turned to his companion. "I think my girlfriend is a gold digging bitch who is cheating on me every time I go out of town to wrestle."

Alison nearly choked on a crouton. When she finally got control of her breathing, she turned her green eyes on him. "Well, do you have any proof? Because paranoia can happen. However, if the trust is gone, then there's no point in continuing with a relationship."

"We met nearly a year ago and started dating whenever I was in town a few months after that. About six months ago, she started introducing herself as my girlfriend. When I called her earlier, she was at a club and already hammered instead of getting ready to come get me at the airport. Then, she says she's been thinking of quitting her job so she can 'take care of' me."

Having finished her salad, Alison took a large bite of her giant burger and chewed thoughtfully. She had seen this type of behavior before, and instantly wanted to travel to Pensacola to slap the woman. Who even does that shit?!

"Well, then." Alison nodded. "It sounds to me as if you have a real problem on your hands. She's moving far too quickly for you, which is obvious, and it also sounds as if she's having some fun on the side.

"Now, I'm not going to tell you that you should break up with her. But, I do think you two either need to talk and sort things out or go your separate ways."

Roman nodded. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking."

Finishing the rest of their dinner in companionable silence, the two new friends settled in to a friendly game of cards as the lightning flashed outside the windows and the rain sheeted down from above. When Alison's voice began to trail off and her head bobbed heavily on her shoulders, Roman moved to lay her down. One of the airline workers came in with pillows and thick blankets, and Roman made sure she was securely tucked in before he lowered the lights and moved to the other couch to watch television and drift off to sleep.