Okay, this one is more than long overdue :3

Anyway, enjoy!

Staring out of the window, Randy took in the first light which was slowly creeping over the horizon, bit by bit illuminating the misty twilight between night and day. His sense of time had been shredded to pieces by the events of the past days, leaving him feeling like being awake in the middle of the night, when the day had already begun. Or maybe it was because he'd been drifting in and out of sleep, fighting it, because he'd wanted to watch over John.

John…

His eyes swept back to the man lying in his arms, the one he loved more than his own life. The one he'd nearly lost. John was sleeping peacefully, had been the whole night and it was more than a wonder to Randy that it was like that. And… that John had begged him to… that they had made love. That John could bear that kind of bodily closeness. Wanted it.

It was the purest form of trust, wasn't it? Still Randy hoped that giving in to John hadn't made things worse. For the moment it seemed that is had helped him to find some peace, to cope better with what had happened… in a strange way Randy still couldn't really understand… but what if John woke up and… couldn't stand having him close any longer?

Shoving that thought aside, Randy trailed his fingers along John's arm that was tightly wrapped around his middle, holding on to him as if he was afraid that Randy could vanish. There was a soft sigh, fleeting over his skin.

The swelling of the cheekbone and around John's eye seemed to fade, but the bruises had just started to unfold all their colorful glory and there was a chance that some of the scratches would leave scars. But what were those scars compared to the ones that bastard had left on John's soul…? And Randy had no fucking idea what the right way was, how to help John. Being there, holding him, telling him that he loved him. Keeping him safe. He loved him and now John knew, but… there had to be more he could do… He felt so helpless, feeling like he was just standing there, watching all this without having a chance to do something…

But… there was nothing he could do to banish those demons.

His thoughts faded into the background as a soft sound reached his ears, followed by a movement of the body in his arms. For a moment he wasn't sure if John was waking up or if it had only been a subconcious moving in his sleep. But a few seconds later those beloved baby blues met his gaze, baby blues which were sleepy and there was still a tinge of exhaustion lying in them, but there was also peace, calmness. A wonderful softness. Such a wonderful softness…

It couldn't be that easy, could it?

John lifted a hand, never breaking their gazes as he touched Randy's lips. There was a small smile dancing on his own lips as he did, and Randy couldn't help but smile back and kiss the older man's fingertips. Gently taking hold of John's hand then, he breathed a kiss to the palm and guided it to the spot right above his heart, blanketing it with his own. It fit there perfectly…

"Hey, babe," Randy murmured, receiving a hum in response. "How are you feeling?"

Another hum. The smile on John's lips got a bit wider, a bit brighter.

"I'm feeling good," John replied, slowly inching up a bit until he could steal a kiss.

Savoring the feeling, Randy did his best not to think too much about the still lingering doubts. No… it couldn't be that easy. But maybe, at least for the moment, it was okay to just give in to the good feelings? Reality would be back soon enough…

His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel too tight and his fingers hurt, were close to cramping. He was sitting there with his head bowed and his eyes screwed shut, but it didn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. It was good that he was alone in the basement garage, because the last thing he needed right now was that someone saw him like this, asked him what was wrong.

How he'd made it down here to hide in his car was a mystery to him anyway. The tears had burned in his eyes like liquid fire ever since the moment he'd been sitting in Vince's office, somehow trying to find his voice to… explain. But how should he explain something like… it?

For minutes he'd been sitting there, feeling like being in hell. Vince had given him all the time he needed, kept silent until the first tears fell from his eyes and in a blink the older man had switched from being his boss to being the fatherly friend, sitting down beside Randy with a comforting hand on his shoulder, talking soothingly to him.

The tears though kept falling, while Randy struggled not to run away, to find the words to tell Vince the truth and eventually… he spoke, because he couldn't carry this alone any longer… knowing that if John found out about it, he would probably hate him for it. And he told Vince about them being in love, about not acting on it because of him not having the guts to stand by the man he loved. About John's relationship with George and… and about… it. The truth passed his lips and it burned his throat, his tongue like acid and he felt like throwing up, felt like being torn apart, because saying it aloud, revealing it to someone made it even more real. Much more real than anything bad should ever be.

Vince… he'd been staring at Randy in utter disbeblief and shock. The hand on his shoulder had tightened its hold to the point of being painful, but Randy was sure that the older man wasn't even aware of what he was doing. Everything that had followed then was nothing more than a blur. And it all… it didn't matter, did it? The only important thing was that they now had all the time they needed…

Pain joltet through his fingers as he eventually let go of the steering wheel, causing him to wince as he moved his fingers which were stiff from holding on to it too tight for too long. Taking a few deep breaths, he wiped the tears away and blinked against the persistent burning in his eyes. He felt exhausted, so very much…

I don't want all this to be true…

A silly thought, wasn't it? Thinking like a little child would do…

Biting back a sob, he took out his phone, swiping a finger over its screen which showed no message and no missed call, but he wasn't sure if he was happy about it. A message, telling him that the situation was… okay… would have helped him to calm down a little… After John had been following him around like a puppy the whole morning, seeking constant contact, even if it only had been standing so close that their shoulders were touching, he'd had a bad feeling about doing this. Leaving John alone at home, even though Hunter was there to have an eye on him…

"Don't go."

The words were spoken quiet and steady, but there was the shadow panic quivering underneath, no matter how much John wanted to hide it. Randy knew him too well to not hear it and John knew that, averting his eyes, because the panic was also glinting in those blue orbs and Randy had seen it before John could even try to hide it. Wrapping his arms around the older man's neck, Randy pulled him into a gentle embrace and breathed a kiss to his forehead.

"Look, I need to talk to Vince and…" he began, but he was cut off.

"No, I don't want that, I… you…" John said and it seemed that the panic got closer to the surface.

No, it wasn't that easy, was it?

"Ssh, Johnny, calm down." His lips delivered another kiss, this time to his lover's lips. "I'll tell him that someone beat you up and that you need some time to get well. And that I need some time off to be there for you. It'll be okay, you know Vince. And he knows us." John tensed up in his arms and with an inaudible sigh he kissed the bruised cheek, very-very tenderly. "Hunter's gonna wait until I'm back."

Broad arms circled his waist in a hold so tight that it made it hard to breathe, but he didn't complain. If John needed to do this, then he would rather bite off his tongue than say a word. The blond man still refused to meet his gaze again, but it wasn't necessary. Randy could hear the panic and he could see the color drain from John's face.

"I don't want Hunter here," John whispered then, closing his eyes and swallowing hard, before adding: "I can't bear the thought of him being in this house." Randy's chest constricted at the desperation which was lacing into the whisper. "You could call Vince and…"

He hushed John.

"I can't put him off with a phone call. And Hunter is your friend. He would never harm you, you know that."

Brows furrowed over closed eyes.

"He… I just can't… I…" The sentence was never finished. Instead it trailed of to a tiny sob, before John hid his face against Randy's shoulder. "Don't go," John whispered, begging. "Don't go, Ran, please don't… please…"

Bringing a hand up to cradle John's head against his shoulder, he had to close his own eyes for a few seconds to fight down a cutting pain in his heart and to will his voice not to waver as he spoke again, because he needed to talk to Vince, needed to go to John's house to get some things and then… then he wouldn't need to leave the house for a few days. Days he needed to be there for John.

It cost him all his will to let go of John and free himself from those strong arms which refused to let him go and when he stepped back, John finally met his gaze and a shadow had fallen over those blue eyes, but the panic was now visibly bubbling to the surface. And it almost killed Randy.

Once more he placed a kiss on John's lips, rested his forehead against his and murmured: "I'm gonna tell Hunter to stay out of this room and leave you alone, okay? I promise I'll hurry. It'll be alright, Johnny."

He felt the other man shake his head slightly no, but when he drew back, John let him go. Still… his features were tense, the lips pressed together tighly. And then John wrapped his arms around himself as if he wanted to hide away. It hurt. I fucking hurt so much to see him like that…

Eventually Randy managed to leave the room, switching to autopilot. His feet carried him down to the living room where Hunter was sitting on the couch, forearms braced on his knees while his fingers were busy with toying with a key. He waited until Randy was standing beside him, before he stood up and met Randy's gaze.

"So? Care to tell me what is going on?" Hunter asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why is John hiding in that room and why are you looking like shit?"

A voice deep within him screamed to say it, to tell Hunter what had happened. This man was his friend. One of his best friends and… and if he told him now, then he wouldn't have to bear this alone… But instead he just shook his head no, watching as Hunter crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his stance, giving the perfect image of a mentor who wanted answers. But this time it didn't work.

"I can't," Randy muttered, wiping his hands down his face. "Promise me that you don't go in there and that you leave him alone."

"Randy…"

"I want you to promise me that you leave him alone, Hunter," he repeated, this time more insistently and with a certain edge in his voice.

With a sigh Hunter let his arms drop to his sides.

"Okay, I promise," he replied then. "But you owe me aswers, Orton."

Randy held Hunter's gaze and he found worry in it. They had known each other for so long now, too long for Hunter not to notice that something was badly wrong. He gave the other man a short nod.

"Thanks for having an eye on him," Randy said quietly. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

He still could feel the cold shiver running down his spine, the one he'd felt as he left the house, just as he felt the hair on the back of his neck raise as his eyes fell on John's house now. The motor died and suddenly it was oddly quiet in the car. Wrenching his eyes away from the house, he took a glimpse at his phone. Still nothing. John was probably sleeping. And Hunter thought that maybe it wasn't necessary to send messages as long as things were okay.

His hand closed around the baseball bat as he got out of the car and he couldn't remember a time before when the way to the front door had seemed so very long and the sound as the door opened under his hand was somehow dull in the quietness which was reigning in the house. Taking a deep breath he stepped in.

The bat weighed heavy in his hand as he crossed the hall, just as it had that night… and it made his skin crawl. Listening for a sound or another hint that someone was here who shouldn't be here, he let his eyes sweep open doors and the stairs, but there was no sign that he wasn't alone in here. And then he stepped into the living room… and stopped dead. The glass and the TV lying on the floor… the cushions still lay scattered around the room. The couch was still dipped on its back. The ripped shirt, the crimson stains. And for agonizing long seconds he was back at that night. And for those seconds he couldn't breathe. His blood froze…

He could still see John lying in that corner, curled up to a ball… with all those scratches, bruises and the blood and with a shuddering groan he closed his eyes against the image, but he still could see it. He would see it for the rest of his life, because it was burned into his memory, so very deep that even if they would heal over the time, this image would leave scars.

For a few minutes he kept standing there in the middle of this chaos, frozen to the spot… barely able to bear the sight, yet he couldn't move either.

Eventually… he managed to move his feet, willing them to carry him out of the living room and up the stairs to get some of John's clothes and other stuff. It was hard to ignore those things upstairs in the bathroom and the bedroom which weren't John's. Too hard. Because those things had no right to be there and the wave of desparation, guilt and rage that flooded him, shut his mind down.

He screamed. Screamed until his throat was raw and his lung burned, until he had no breath left and his voice broke.

His eyes fell on a notebook that wasn't John's. His fingers closed around it. And with a roar he hauled it against the wall and the very second it cracked and fell to pieces, his knees buckled. A blink later he found himself sitting on the floor, hunched forward while cradling his head in his hands. He couldn't let John come back here. He couldn't… Coming back here meant being reminded of what had happened with every step he took, wherever he looked at… anything...

No.

A shuddering sigh dropped from his lips, one that was almost a sob, but he didn't want to cry again. He had to be strong. For John. He needed to be. No matter how much he ached or how desperate he was, no matter how hopeless and helpless he felt, because… because it was nothing compared to what John was going through.

Through his racing thoughts dug a sound, calling him persistently until he realized that it was his phone. His thoughts fell silent as he saw who was calling. His heart sank. Hunter…

Answering the call, he croaked: "Hunter?"

"Randy… you need to come back. Now."

x

Hunter was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs with a dark expression on his face, holding a bloodstained tissue to his nose. He looked definitely worried, alarmed and also angry and as Randy came closer, he saw a slight swelling on the other man's right cheekbone, causing a cold grip around Randy's pounding heart.

"What happened?" he asked breatheless, watching as Hunter's eyes narrowed to slits.

The older man tilted his head a little to the side as he kept staring at Randy.

"I heard a scream coming from his room and went up to check on him…"

"I told you to leave him alone!" Randy hissed, cutting Hunter off and it dawned on him what had happened. "You promised to…"

"Shut the fuck up!" Hunter growled, grabbing a fistful of his shirt to give him a rough shake. "John was screaming in his sleep and when I tried to wake him he panicked and lashed about. He said your name and begged me not to hurt him. I swear, if you don't fucking tell me what is going on here, you'll regret it!"

Hunters words struck him. Lifting a hand to the one fisting his shirt, he swallowed hard, trying to calm his wildly beating heart. John was upstairs, panicked, alone and all he wanted was to go to him and hold him, but he knew Hunter wouldn't let him go just like this. This now, this was… he couldn't believe that Hunter really thought that he'd hurt John, that he even could do something like that to him.

"Do you really think I would do that to John?" he asked shakily. "Do you really think I would lay my hands on him?"

"I don't know what to think, because up there is one of the toughest man I've ever come to know, sitting in a corner like a scared little kid and he looks like he's almost been beaten to death," Hunter growled once more, again giving him a rough shake, before pushing him away and stepping right between Randy and the stairs. "So tell me what I should think, Orton!"

Randy's eyes swept up to the top of the stairs. Every fiber of his body screamed to push past the other man and run to John, because he needed to. He needed to show John that he was there for him, needed to make sure he would get through this. But he also knew he wouldn't get past the man in front of him. It was written all over Hunter's face. Try this and you'll regret it for the rest of your life.

Averting his gaze, Randy wrapped his arms around himself, before saying hushed: "It was John's ex."

"You really wanna tell me a girl did that to him?" Hunter growled and Randy couldn't remember a moment when the other man had growled at him like that.

He felt a lump in his throat that made it hard to speak, while he tried hard not to see the image of John sitting in his room, alone, waiting for him, scared and…

"Randy…!"

"A man," Randy choked out. "John's ex is a man…" From the corner of his eye he saw Hunter's eyes widen, before he closed them and wiped a hand down his face. "That guy beat him up a few days ago and he…" Randy trailed off as the image of John lying curled up and beaten on the floor invaded his mind. "He…" No… he couldn't say it, not again. Not yet. But maybe Hunter had an idea of what he didn't speak out aloud, because the color drained from his face. "I love John. And I'm gonna go to him now, because he needs me and if you try to stop me, I swear I'll make you regret it, Hunter."

This all was so surreal… he still stood here when he should long be with John. Hunter had threatened him and he had just threatened him back… they were friends, goddammit… His feet moved and he braced himself to push the other man out of his way, but Hunter stepped aside to let him pass. Randy didn't meet his gaze. His eyes were fixed at the top of the stairs. He didn't run. His legs were too unsteady to move faster than he did now. Just as he reached the top, he heard his name being called, causing him to stop for a second.

"I'm sorry," Hunter said quietly.

"Yeah," Randy replied as quietly, not turning back though. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too."

With that he continued his way. The few meters to his bedroom had never before seemed to be so long as they were now and with every step he took, his heart beat harder against his chest, pumping an odd mixture of fear of what was waiting for him in there and numbness through his veins.

John was sitting in the far corner of the bedroom, his knees drawn up to his chest with his elbows braced against them… and his head cradled in his hands. He was trembling. And he seemed to be so caught up in whatever held him prisoner, that he was oblivious to Randy approaching him slowly. Very slowly, because the last thing that Randy wanted was to scare him. More than he already was. Hesitantly he kneeled down in front of him, but John still gave no reaction.

"John," he whispered. A second, two. Nothing. "Johnny?"

His fingers touched a trembling arm, stirring a reaction. John's head snapped up as he jerked back and it pained Randy to see him shy away from the touch. There was a certain wetness glistening on John's cheeks, the blue eyes were slightly reddened, wide, staring at him confused and… panicked… for a long moment, until he really saw who was kneeling there.

"Randy…?"

The single word was breathed… and then John leaned forward, falling into Randy's waiting arms. Whispering his lover's name, Randy pulled him close, closer. Holding him safe.

"Ssh, I've got you," he whispered, feeling tears well up in his eyes and his throat burn. "I've got you, Johnny…"