Disclaimer: Don't know. Don't own.

A/N: So I had to do some research for this. The timeline works relatively well, I hope. And yes, I get shit for my villainous characters.

2000

Cody didn't get to see his dad that often. They maybe got to spend a weekend at home while Cody wasn't in school or just a brief goodnight when Virgil would arrive home just before bedtime. So the invitation to travel around with WCW for a while was a welcome adventure with his old man.

Meeting some of the best wrestlers in the business was exciting. When Cody saw them backstage they would be getting ready for matches or cooling down after matches and the whole aura that these men had about them was simply awe-inspiring.

The backstage area itself was never glamorous. The arena staff always set up a few of the spare rooms in the back for the visiting wrestlers, but they were drab and undistinguishable. So when dad was out wrestling, Cody didn't have many entertainment options. He could stay in the locker room, watching the matches on a monitor, or he could wander the halls, seeing who he might come across.

This time isn't any different. He is scurrying towards the locker room because Dusty Rhodes is about to hit the ramp, and Cody knows that his dad would want him to watch. Turn after turn through blank hallways, passing a few random staffers along the way, he s almost back to the room when he walks right into a firm chest.

Looking up, a disconcerting view meets him. A tall man, with tanned skin and long blond hair stands in his path. It's Ric Flair, living legend. Cody knows that his dad and Ric had feuded before he was born and when both men had ended up back with WCW almost twenty years later, it was a perfect opportunity to start that right back up.

Needless to say, Cody mostly steered clear of the other man any time he came to visit. He knew the storylines were just that, stories, but something about the older man just rubbed him the wrong way.

"Ah the little Runnels, how you doing boy?" Ric smiles and Cody cringes at his interest.

"I'm good, Sir. How are you?"

Instead of offering a reply, Ric barks out a laugh, startling the young boy. Cody just stares at him with wide eyes, wondering what the older man is laughing at, and hoping that he can get away on time to see his dad's match.

"You're daddy teach you those manners, boy? Didn't think he had it in him," Ric's shiny white teeth never disappear, "Ah well, I like it. Why don't you hang with me kid, until Ol' Dusty comes on back?"

"Actually, I was just going to-"

"Nonsense," Ric grabs Cody's skinny bicep and tugs, leading him towards another locker room, "We can watch the match, talk some, I haven't seen you in years kid!"

Cody stumbles over his feet, trying to keep up with the strong man that has a hold on him. The room is just like all the others. Boring beige walls, hooks for jackets, and folding chairs litter the area, along with a monitor to watch the show.

"Have a seat, let me get out of this sweaty ring gear!" He shoves Cody down in a chair and then sits in another, leaning down to untie his boots and slide his knee pads off. Cody just tries to pay attention to the screen as he notices his dad making his way down the ramp. The crowd is going insane, they love Dusty so much, and Cody finds is intriguing.

"They love your daddy. Personally I don't get it, but no one said wrestling fans were a smart bunch."

Cody turns to face Ric, surprised at the man's negative opinion. He's about to defend his father when he gets a full view of Ric. He has stripped of his trunks and is standing naked in front of the 15 year old, his dick hard and dripping.

"You like what you see, boy?"

Fuck being polite. Cody jumps up and heads for the door, suddenly scared about what is happening. He doesn't want anything to do with this disturbing old man.

He's almost to the door when he is jerked back by the collar of his shirt and he falls hard to the ground, Ric hovering over him. He scrambles over to his knees, trying to get away, but the larger man is just too much for him. Ric just pins him down on his stomach and scratches at his waist, struggling to pull the flailing boy's pants down.

Cody does the only thing he can. He screams. He screams as long and hard as he can, hoping that someone, anyone, will come save him. But his only chance is quickly stifled when a sock is shoved into his mouth.

"And Rhodes with his bionic elbow!"

The match is still playing on the monitor, but all Cody can focus on is the heat searing against his back and the fear pumping through his veins. His jeans and boxers are pulled to his ankles and he thrashes as much as his tired body will allow, his cries muffled by cloth.

"I'll show your daddy just what I can do," and with that Ric plunges into Cody, hard and forceful and tears stream from Cody's blue eyes. He feels like he's dying; like he's being torn in half and he's never felt pain like this in his life.

"Dusty Rhodes has the upper hand here! This may be it! One . . . two . . . no!"

Ric keeps going fast, pinning Cody's arms to the cold floor, pushing his face to the tile. Cody doesn't feel any blood, anything to slick him and ease the burning pain. There is only a rough, grating feeling, and the longer that Ric is inside him the more it hurts, the deeper it stings.

"I'm so close boy. Are you ready for it?"

It's only a few more gut-wrenching thrusts before the older man groans loudly and Cody can feel a disgusting warmth flooding him. Ric pulls out and head for his bag, grabbing clean clothes while Cody lay in shock and pain. He's just thankful that it's over when Ric moves back towards him and he tenses, waiting for something else.

But it's not the something else he expected. He head is slammed into the floor, opening up his forehead and stunning him. A kick to his gut leaves him breathless.

"And you're winner . . . Dusty Rhodes!"

"See you later, Runnels," Ric steps on Cody once more before leaving the room.

Once Cody is alone, he raises an arm to his face to rip the spit and blood soaked sock out of his mouth. Next his hand goes to his bottom and he flinches when a warm liquid is smeared by his fingers. Painfully his shrugs out of his jeans and underwear, kicking his sneakers off.

He wipes himself off with his boxers, shoves them behind some boxes near the wall and slides back into his pants. His blood freezes at the thought of someone finding out what had just happened to him. Cody tries to stand, but he is in so much pain, he can't make it. So he lies there, blood dripping into his eyes, hands clutching his stomach and he tries not to cry again.

Down the hall, Virgil enters his locker room, expecting to be greeted by his son, but when he finds the room empty, he becomes concerned. Cody wouldn't miss his match, not when he came so far to see him. He pokes his head back into the hallway and asks the other wrestlers out there if they had seen his son wandering the halls.

They shake their heads and Virgil can't help it, he's worried about what trouble Cody may have gotten up to in the bowels of the arena. He heads back down the hall in search of his boy, and almost thirty minutes into the search, panic is starting to take over. He knows he shouldn't let it; the arena is big and Cody could be anywhere, but that doesn't stop him from asking other wrestlers and staffers to look for the 15 year old.

It's not long before the majority of the staff is looking for Cody. It's been an hour since Virgil returned from his match to find Cody gone.

"Over here! I found him!" Scott Hall shouts, "He's hurt!"

Virgil's heart plummets at these words. He rushes over towards Scott's voice and through a door that he must have walked past twenty times. The huge man is kneeling next to Cody, who is lying on the floor, blood dripping from his split forehead to the tile. Virgil takes Scott's place and rolls Cody over, causing his son to groan in pain.

"Cody, Cody," Virgil sits him up, cradling him, "What happened?"

Cody's blue eyes are glazed, disoriented and he stutters, "I . . . I don't know."

Virgil frowns and lifts Cody off the floor. Cody cries out in pain and grasps for his stomach and Virgil rushes him to medics that are always standing by. When they get to the room, Virgil lays him down a stretcher and the medic immediately moves to patch up his head. He works in silence while Virgil watches and he moves to Cody's stomach, examining the bruises spreading there.

"Are you hurt anywhere else Cody?"

Cody locks eyes with his father before replying, "No, nowhere else."

"Well, then you're good to go kid," the medic smiles, "No concussion, no broken ribs, just get some rest."

Virgil moves to stand next to his son and looks down at him, "I was so worried about you. Don't you do that to me ever again! I don't want to see you end up hurting yourself."

"No worries dad," Cody sighs, "I won't do it ever again."