This is set back before Randy's face turn. This story is completely character based so he is not married here. I mostly like character based stories and I wanted to explore a different reason for Randy's face turn...

I don't own anyone mentioned in this fic or the WWE

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Prologue

John Cena was angry. His feud with Batista had been taken to a height that he hadn't had to contend with since...well, since he'd been fighting Orton. Speaking of...John had been sitting backstage, watching the rest of the show to at least try and get his mind off losing the title to Batista.

John certainly held no love for Orton. In fact, Orton had been one of the few men that John had truly hated over the years. Hate was a strong word and John usually left whatever happened in the arena when he left but his and Orton's feuds had gotten so personal. Randy had turned out to be such a psycho...

John watched as, on screen, Orton tried to fight off the two men he'd been teaming with for the better part of two years. It wasn't exactly an unpleasant sight. Legacy, as they called themselves, had been the bane of many superstars existences since they had formed.

He couldn't say that Orton didn't deserve it. He'd watched with all the WWE fans when Randy had repeatedly beat down the two boys that seemed to look up to him, as he continued to use them and John was only surprised that Rhodes and DiBiase had taken so long to get up the nerve to fight back.

The fans, however, seemed firmly in Randy Orton's camp when it started. In fact, John hadn't heard Randy get cheered so loud, or at all, since his break from Evolution years ago. John understood it, he guessed. Ted and Cody certainly weren't endearing themselves to anyone. They had learned from the best how to make everyone they came into contact with hate them.

John had been in a lot of surprising situations since signing with WWE. But, he could say, none was more surprising than the one he got into after that night, after watching the implosion of Legacy on live television.

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Randy stumbled down the hallway. One hand braced on the wall, he moved forward, barely aware of where he was going or of the blood running down his face. His chest burned horribly but he hardly noticed that either.

Dark blue eyes still swam in his vision. Hatred and accusation swimming in those eyes. Eyes that had looked at him with love just a few weeks ago.

Randy stumbled, barely managing to keep his feet under him. Dazed, he felt something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years. The guilt nearly overwhelmed him. This was his fault.

Xxxxxxxx

John literally ran straight into him. He'd been on his way out of the arena, heading towards the parking lot. He hadn't been paying too much attention to his surroundings when he'd rounded a corner and slammed into someone. This someone stumbled and nearly fell and, on instinct, John reached out to steady them before looking up and meeting the gray eyes of Randy Orton.

It wasn't as if John hadn't run into the man before. This time, however, Orton faltered, even with John holding a hand on his arm, one arm wrapped tightly around his midsection. John released him on seeing who it was and Randy lent against the wall. It seemed to be the only thing holding him up.

John noticed several things when he did take a step back. Randy was still in his ring gear. He was breathing harshly and after a moment, he slid down the wall till he was sitting on the floor in the hall. He was also bleeding. There was a startling amount of blood staining the left side of his face and it still oozed from his temple.

The halls of the arena were never deserted and for a moment, John wondered how many people had come across Orton and just let him pass by. Reluctantly, John knelt in front of the man. He'd hated Orton for years but he couldn't just walk away from someone who couldn't even stand on their own.

"What the hell happened to you?" John asked, keeping his voice flat as he reached forward and tilted Randy's head, inspecting the wound. This hadn't happened happened during Randy's match. John had watched that himself.

"Cena?" Randy's voice came out rough and he was squinting at John.

"Yeah." John sighed. "What happened?" To his surprise, Randy's expression contorted into something close to...guilt?

"I did it." Randy's voice was slurred and his gaze was unfocussed.

John raised an eyebrow. "I doubt you did this to yourself." John grabbed his arm and started to pull him up. "Come on. You need to get checked out."

Randy shoved him off weakly and tried to stand on his own. "I did it," he repeated. He brought his hands up to his head and then stared at the blood on them. The shock and hurt he saw on Randy's face was something John hadn't ever seen on the man before.

Randy laughed then, high and almost hysterical. "Oh, God." Then he leaned forward and threw up, barely missing his and John's shoes.

John wrinkled his nose and glanced up and down the hall, wishing for a moment that he'd gone in a different direction or that one of the trainers would wonder down the hall and take Orton off his hands because he just couldn't seem to help the pity that welled in him at the sight of Orton like this.

"Come on," John repeated, his voice a tad softer this time as he reached forward and steadied the man again.

This time, Orton let John lead him away.

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Not for the first time, John wondered why he was doing this. He'd taken Randy to get patched up and, other than a some bruising and a mild concussion, Randy would be fine. The cut on his temple had been cleaned and bandaged. John hadn't meant to stay after getting Randy to some help but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Randy had been silent the whole time. It seemed he'd gone mute after puking in the hallway. Somehow, John had agreed to get Randy back to his hotel room. It was something between his curiosity and the knowledge that nobody else would be volunteering to do it. Randy didn't exactly have any friends backstage, especially since Rhodes and DiBiase had turned on him.

He'd managed to get Randy back to his room and, ignoring John, Randy had crawled into his bed on his stomach, burying his face in his pillow.

John sat in the chair beside the bed after a moment, chewing his lip and staring at the man who, for years, had been his biggest enemy. It had been suggested that someone stay with Randy for the night. He did have a concussion, after all but the dubious look on the trainers face had made it clear that he thought that both Randy wouldn't allow that and that there wouldn't be anyone willing to do it for him.

John leaned back in the chair. It was a bad idea but despite all the things Randy had done to him in the past, he couldn't seem to leave the man hurt the way he was. He scowled at himself, wished not for the first time, that his conscious would just shut the hell up.

Still John didn't not get up. He'd most likely regret it later when Randy wasn't dazed and concussed but for the moment, he didn't move.

Xxxxxxxxx

He'd destroyed everything. Randy couldn't escape the thought. It overwhelmed him, making the physical pain in his head and in his chest seem distant.

It was still fresh in his mind. It was all he could think about. He didn't care that Cena was still in the room, at least not then. He might care the next day but that night, after what had happened, it didn't matter.

His head felt too heavy and his chest felt hollow and he couldn't escape those eyes. When he finally did fall into a restless sleep, Cody's dark blue eyes followed him down, haunting him even in his dreams.