A/N: Read Before, During, and After first.

And so slowly but surely, Randy had come back to himself.

That night he had let John hold him while they slept for the first time since Before, his back pressed tightly against John's chest and their legs tangled together under the sheets. A week later, he'd turned off the light in the bathroom before they went to bed, much to John's surprise and pleasure. Then he'd finally slept peacefully all the way through the night and woken himself up in the morning without John having to prod him out of bed. He'd begun injecting his own comments into conversations, laughing at jokes, showering only once or twice a day, and offering advice to the younger talent when he saw them working in the ring. But there was one thing that had really let John know that Randy was healing, one thing that assured him that his lover was on his way to being whole.

He was eating.

A lot.

He couldn't hide the massive grin that split his face in half when they'd stopped at a small Mom and Pop diner in some random town in Texas after RAW one night and Randy had ordered a stack of pancakes with sausage links and bacon, two gigantic Belgian waffles, scrambled eggs, hash browns, coffee, and orange juice. The waitress had had to poke John in the shoulder with her pen to get his attention back so he could give her his simple order of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. When their food finally arrived at their table, John had sat in awe as Randy dug right in, smothering everything in syrup and taking a giant bite of pancakes. He hadn't realized how long he'd been staring until Randy had called out to him, half his waffles and all the pancakes and eggs gone.

"What the hell are you staring at with that creepy ass grin on your face?" he'd joked, eyes smiling.

John's already impossibly wide grin stretched even wider as he laughed. "Hey la, hey la."

Randy looked down almost shyly and smiled to himself, finishing the lyric. "My boyfriend's back."

"And it feels so damn good. I missed him."

Randy looked up at that, his own gorgeous grin pulling across his face and dazzling John. "I'll just bet you did. He's kinda the shit." He laughed heartily as John threw a crumpled up napkin at him, hitting him square in the nose, and the two spent the rest of the night eating in relative silence, the air around them warm and sweet with their reunion.

Their feud had come completely out of left field. John sat frozen to his chair as the tentative plan for the next few months was outlined. He looked to his left and took in Randy's face, eyes wide and dilated and skin ashen. He watched as his lover's hands curled tightly into fists in the legs of his sweatpants, knuckles white as sheets and nails digging into his palms. He reached over and laid a hand over one of Randy's, gripping his fist in his hand, and his heart lurched painfully in his chest. Randy's eyes were full of a fear he'd never hoped to see again when he turned to look at him, a desperate pleading screaming at him from within their depths. John had squeezed his fist tightly, relieved when it uncurled and Randy let him slide their palms together, fingers interlocking. It was only then that John realized that he was watching them, that Randy could tell.

Randy hadn't stopped trembling for hours afterwards.

"You're losing weight again. That's not healthy, Randal."

His voice was blood and oil sliding over Randy's skin, congealing in a tight knot at the base of his spine and turning his whole body stiff. He couldn't move, could barely breathe as he cursed inwardly. I should've gone with John.

"Fuck you." He was proud of himself. His voice was firm and strong, completely opposite of how he felt inside. He was pretty sure if he tried to stand his knees would give out on him.

"I'm more than willing to let you, you know. Fair trade and all that." Randy could hear the smirk in his voice, and the memories of the last time he saw it pushed and battered against the carefully constructed walls he'd erected in his mind, almost breaking through and drowning him. But he fought back, hands clenching and eyes closing tightly. He inhaled and exhaled deliberately and tried to keep his composure. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing him break down.

Not again.

Never again.

"Get out. Now." He jumped out of his skin and his chair when he heard his voice from right behind him, cursing himself for not hearing him move and for letting him catch him off guard. Do NOT show him fear. DON'T. He stared at the wall over his left shoulder, determined not to look into those eyes that had haunted his sleep for months.

The fingers slipping over his collarbone weren't entirely unexpected, but they still made him want to run and scream and throw up. He didn't want to be touched by him. Didn't want to be dirtied by him again.

"Randal," he crooned, and Randy cringed. His name sounded dirty and blasphemous coming out of his mouth. "That's not very nice." He leaned in close, lips brushing Randy's earlobe and his chest brushing against Randy's own bare one as the younger man breathed heavily. "Your mother taught you better, I'm sure."

Randy snapped.

He shoved him hard in the chest, fingers and palms burning where they'd made contact with him. A deep frown creased his face as he rubbed at his chest, sure there'd be bruises in the shape of Randy's hands there.

"Never speak of my mother again. Never. Get the fuck out of my locker room. Don't come anywhere near me unless and ONLY unless it's for work. And be ready. Cuz I will fucking destroy you. I promise."

And the fucker grinned.

He actually grinned.

He's insane…

"I can't wait, Randy. I really can't wait." He slowly reached a hand down to the crotch of his jeans and adjusted what Randy could tell was a very serious erection, laughter that made Randy's skin crawl rumbling from deep within his chest.

Then he was gone as suddenly as he came.

John came back from catering to what appeared to be an empty locker room.

"Rand? Baby, you still in here?" He almost didn't catch the low whimper off to his left, wouldn't have if every part of him wasn't so in tune with Randy. His head whipped around sharply as the sound registered, and when he caught sight of him, his heart broke.

"What happened?" He sunk down to the ground in front of Randy who'd curled up into a ball on the floor, his chest pressed tightly to his thighs and his arms wrapped around his legs, eyes and cheeks wet with tears.

"He was here. H-he touched me. I…I let him touch me and he got hard and he laughed and he fucking grinned at me like he's enjoying this and I'm dirty again, John! I…I can't do this, Johnny. I can't." John felt cold as Randy's words settled over him. He pulled Randy into his lap and rocked him gently as the younger man sobbed into his shoulder, fingers gripping tightly at his shirt. "I can't do this. I can't. I can't."

John kissed the top of his head and shushed him. "Randy, baby, calm down. We'll figure something out, I promise. I won't let him near you, ok? He won't touch you again."

As he folded himself around Randy's body, John prayed with every fiber of his being to every god he could think of that he'd be able to keep that promise.

It hadn't taken long to realize his prayers would fall on deaf ears.