Hi there! This took me a while since my job keeps me VERY busy at the moment… and I just finished this one a moment ago.
So, please don't be miffed if I'm keeping this A/N short, because I'm so tired that I'm about to end up with my face on my keyboard any second *yaaaawns* -.-
Anyway, thanks for your feedback to the last chapter. It's what keeps me doing this! I love you all so much :D
Enjoy!
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It was around 4 p.m. when John finally stood at Randy's door, but instead of going into the room he walked away from it, over to the lonely chair and sat down. Phil had dropped him off at the hospital…
John sat in Phil's car, staring at the entrance to the building for minutes without being able to get out of the car. The younger was waiting patiently for him to say a word, get out or whatever but when John made no move to do or say anything, Phil took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze to call him back to the here and now.
"He's waiting, Sunshine."
John leaned his head back against the head-rest, closing his eyes. His guts cramped at the mere thought what would wait for him. Should he act like nothing ever happened? Should he try to get his sorrows off his chest? Or should he try to talk some sense into Randy, so he would accept a treatment?
And he tried to shut out the small voice that asked him: what makes you think that he'll suddenly decide to fight for his life, when not even his family, his little girl had been reason enough for him? Do you really think you can change his mind? By begging him to stay alive?
"I know," he whispered. "Huh… I'm afraid to go up there."
The deeply worried look was back in Phil's eyes as he wondered what had happened. His mind jumped back to Randy's reaction when he had heard that John had spent the night at his place because he'd needed someone to talk. And especially the way he'd found John at his door and the older man's behavior... on the couch… it fueled his worry. It was so unlike John. Shocking.
Not that he didn't like kissing John, or touching him… no, he liked that, very much so. But there were three things that made it hard to ignore that something was very wrong: a) John was straight, so why would he suddenly want to kiss and even consider having sex with a guy and b) okay, here he have an exception, he was in love with Randy, actually and definitely a guy and c) we agree that a and b should be enough reason, but let's add that John was a faithful soul and Phil was sure he would never cheat on the person he loved, not even if he wasn't in a relationship with that very person. Under normal circumstances. So it was pretty obvious that whatever had occurred, it had been severe.
Phil lifted John's hand to his mouth and breathed a kiss to the palm.
"Look, I know you can't tell me what's wrong, but I know, too, that you want nothing more right now than to go up there, no matter if you're afraid or not. And we both know Randy's already waiting for you and believe me, he's counting the minutes. So, just go to him and it'll be alright. Okay?"
No. No, it wouldn't be alright but Phil couldn't know that, could he? John turned his head towards Phil and opened his eyes, searching the younger man's face. And again it were those eyes that drew him in, into Phil's very own honest and simple world, in which everything seemed to be so much easier. Eyes that were telling him… about friendship, worry, care, sympathy and affection. This man was one of a kind. Precious.
"Someone ever told you that you are an amazing man, Phil Brooks?"
There was a small smile shining around the younger man's mouth as John said those words.
"No, not really, but I could get used to it."
John smiled back.
"Well then, you're an amazing man, Phil Brooks. Thank you for being there for me."
"You don't need to thank me all the time, Sunshine."
"Yes, I do. I can't thank you enough and…"
Phil shook his head and cut him off: "Shush! Now, go."
His first impulse had been to give Phil a kiss before leaving… but somehow the thought of kissing him in front of the hospital when he knew Randy was waiting for him… it didn't feel right. Last night, at Phil's place, it hadn't felt like cheating. But… now it did…
After Phil had shooed him out of the car he went up here, rather slowly, playing for time. And now he was sitting here, still playing for time and feeling guilty beyond words for being so weak to seek comfort in the arms of a another man than the one he loved, for taking advantage of Phil, and it didn't matter that he was a willing participant. And for being too damn gutless to just walk in there.
And, God, it hurt. He would have given everything if someone had told him the whole shit was nothing but a bad, bad dream. But it wasn't. It fucking wasn't.
Wiping his hands down his face he willed himself to get up and walk over to the door, where he breathed deeply and knocked. After a moment he heard a faint come in and opened the door.
Randy sat in his bed, looking up as he entered the room and the second he saw that it was John, his eyes widened and for a moment John was reminded of a puppy. The expression Randy's face showed was happy yet strained. Managing a smile, John walked over to the bed and sat down on its edge.
"Hey," Randy said quietly, still looking at him with his puppy eyes. "I wasn't sure if you would… come back… I mean, Phil said you would, but… after yesterday."
The older man took hold of Randy's hand and squeezed it gently. Funny. It felt like the most normal thing in the world to just do this, take Randy's hand and hold it. To sit at his side, like it had never been any other way.
"I meant every word I said yesterday, Randy," John replied as quietly and without giving it a second thought, he lifted the younger man's hand to his lips and kissed the palm, just like Phil had done not long ago.
A heartbeat later John realized what he'd just done and he tried to put on a reassuring smile to cover his faux pas up. And as the older man looked at Randy, the puppy eyes morphed to worried ones and the strained expression began to overweigh the happiness. And then sadness joined the worry in those grey orbs. He didn't seem to take it as more but a gesture of closer friendship, or maybe he didn't notice it, because there was obviously something else on his mind, distracting him.
Instead of pulling his hand out of John's, his fingers closed around it and he whispered: "I know. And that's why… I want you to go, John."
John froze and stared at him, not believing what he'd just heard. He refused to believe what his ears told him. No way. He shook his head ever so slightly no.
"No Randy. We passed that point two days ago. I'm not going anywhere."
Randy's hold tightened a bit and the grey eyes swept to their joined hands for a brief moment and then back up to John's face, roaming it before they locked again with the by now familiar baby blues.
"And I can't let you do this. I can't let you quit your life just to keep your promises and I don't want to be the reason that you… I don't want you to…" Randy explained but then he fell silent for a moment or two, not knowing how to put in words what he meant.
"Phil told me what… what happened last night," he continued then and John's heart clenched. "He said he found you at his door, drunk and devastated and that you crashed on his couch."
A silent sigh left John's lips. So Phil had kept the rest to himself. For an absurd second he had thought that Phil might have said a word too much…
"I don't want to be the reason that you have to feel like yesterday, John. And we both know that whatever will happen in the future, it'll be even worse. It's not fair to you, but I know that you won't break your promises and that's why I want you to go. It's okay, really. I don't want to leave you behind, when I… have to go..."
And again John stared at him. This was Randy, trying to talk some sense into him when it should be the other way around. He should be trying to talk some sense into Randy. And Randy was actually not pulling his asshole attitudes at him and kicking him out, he was worried about John and thus wanted him to leave. Randy was really considering being alone again to make sure John wouldn't have to suffer…?
John had been afraid to come here and he still was afraid, somehow. But the fact that Randy wanted him to go because he cared about him… it bestowed John a warm tingle in his belly, despite the whole situation. And if he'd been determined to make Randy fight for his life before, he was even more determined now…
"John?" Randy asked, squeezing his hand lightly when there was no reaction from the older man.
Scooting a little further up until he sat hip to hip with Randy and while keeping hold his hand, he reached out to lay his free hand on the spot above the younger man's heart and this time it was Randy who stared at him. John tilted his head slightly to the side and searched Randy's face for a few seconds, searched his eyes.
Those eyes spoke to him, telling him to go yet begging him to stay. Not even for one single second John would have considered to go and he wouldn't have been able to do so anyway. He was already in too deep. Way in too deep.
The heart under his hand was beating strong and steady, maybe a little faster than it should, and he concentrated on that very alive rhythm, letting those three words he would never be allowed to say aloud cross his mind.
I love you…
"You don't want to leave me behind then, so you leave me behind now… huh…" John murmured, his eyes never leaving Randy's. "No, Randy. I am not going anywhere… I'm not leaving you behind, no matter what happens. We're gonna go this way together."
And then there was something else in Randy's eyes, gleaming between worry and sadness and he sighed: "John, don't…"
But John gave the younger man's hand a gentle tug, stopping whatever words were about to leave his lips.
"You don't really want me to go, do you, Randy?"
It was a question but it was also a plea and Randy averted his eyes, hiding that strange gleam John couldn't quite file.
"No," he breathed. "No, I don't really want you to go. But it would be fair and the right thing to do, John."
While he spoke those words, he looked back up, his eyes glassy and open, flicking back and forth as if he tried to find an answer to an unspoken question and John patiently waited for him to ask it. And after long seconds of hesitation, Randy did ask.
"John… why?"
He'd asked the question the day before and John had answered it but he also understood that Randy asked it again, that he couldn't comprehend John's motivation, not even after the older man had told him why. And the three words he couldn't say aloud were back…
I love you.
"Because you are worth it," he replied instead, repeating the words he'd said a day before, willing all his affection he felt for the younger man into those words without revealing the whole truth.
Randy closed his eyes again and rested his head back against the pillow, pulling his hand out of John's to lay it on the one above his heart. All those weeks he'd been more or less strong, no matter how alone and lost he'd felt, no matter how afraid he'd been all the time about what would be happening to him in the future. And now he found himself too weak to do the right thing… push John away again with all his might. Again.
Focusing on John's hand above his heart, he noticed a strange calmness settling over him. The thought that the older man was now an inherent part of his life eased his fear of the future somewhat… knowing that John wouldn't leave him… But then he remembered the hollow feeling this morning after waking up, caused by John's absence. And he wanted John to hold him again like the day before… because it had felt good. Ridiculous, wasn't it?
"John?" he whispered before he even realized what he was about to ask. "Can you please… hold me?"
He kept his eyes closed, not daring to open them and see what kind of reaction his words caused… and he waited… and hoped.
John's breath caught in his throat as the words sunk in. He didn't see the way John looked at him. Surprised, but only for a brief moment before the surprise was replaced by a fond expression, mingled with sorrow. He was painfully aware that Randy's plea did not result from the kind of feelings John would want to be the reason but from the simple craving for human closeness. But it was okay because it was far more than he could have hoped for just a few days ago.
So he drew his hand back and got up from his place on the bed and as he did so, he felt Randy gripping his hand to stop him. The grey eyes stayed closed though.
"It's okay, Randy. I'm not going anywhere."
Very carefully he lay down beside the younger man, snaking one arm under Randy's head while pulling his hand out from under Randy's. He wrapped his arm around his upper body, scooting as close as possible without jarring his injuries. With a soft sigh on his lips, Randy turned a little towards John.
For quiet and long minutes they stayed like this, being as content as the whole situation granted them to be in the others closeness. There was another small sigh falling from Randy's lips and the older man hummed lowly in response and while John focused on the feeling of holding the one he loved in his arms, he felt Randy relax more and more with every minute that passed.
"Thanks, John," Randy whispered eventually and much too soon for John's taste. "I know this must be kind of strange for you, so if you want to, you know, get out of the bed it's okay."
Smiling fondly at the younger man, John closed his eyes and rested his head against the pillow and his cheek against Randy's temple. After a few seconds he allowed his arm to move further down, wrapping it around Randy's waist very gently… and maybe a little possessive.
"No, I don't want to get out of the bed," John replied quietly.
Randy's good hand settled on his forearm, his fingers closing around it in a light hold, not to pull John's arm away but to keep it right there.
"Good," Randy whispered again, his voice laced with relief.
It was peaceful the way the lay there and it made John feel bad that he had to disturb this peace. There were still questions on his mind that wanted, needed to be answered…
"Randy… please don't get upset, okay? Why are you refusing a treatment? I know what you said yesterday but…"
John spoke very quietly. Randy tensed a bit, although not as much as John would have expected him to.
"I've seen people undergo a chemo and I've seen the outcome. Weeks and months of painful treatments. Days without being able to even get out of the bed for a minute, sickness, depression. All of it without a guarantee that the treatment will take effect," he murmured surprisingly calm, almost resigned. "And a surgery? What if they cut just a bit too deep? What if I wake up and can't even move a finger anymore? What if I'm waking up as a living vegetable? And worse, what if I'm fully aware of all of it and can't make myself being noticed? I'm afraid, John. I'm afraid of all of this."
Silence fell for a few moments and John tightened his embrace a bit, attempting to give as much comfort as possible, and breathed a kiss to Randy's temple.
"I know, Randy, and I can understand that you're afraid. I would be, too. But there is a chance of full recovery. There are so many things that are worth to fight and live for, like you family, your wife. And especially your little girl. She needs her dad," John murmured.
"She doesn't need a cripple as a dad," Randy replied bitterly.
"Hey, stop saying that."
A huff.
"I can't move my legs. Sure John, you're right, I'm not a cripple. And no one can tell what a treatment will cause."
John sighed heavily.
"The doc said there is a good chance that you'll be able to move your legs again. And you're right, no one can tell what a treatment will cause. What if the treatment causes healing? Ever lost a thought about that? What if everything turns out good you'll be able to watch Alanna grow up and celebrate your hundredth birthday?"
"I came here because of a headache and they found two tumors. I had an accident that nearly killed me and they found a third one. And now I can't move my legs anymore. Sorry, but I stopped being optimistic a while ago."
Another sigh from the older man.
"Is there nothing that can change your mind?" he asked, hoping that Randy would name something… anything.
But Randy stayed silent. His only reaction was to hold John's arm tighter to his waist. John shifted slightly, resting his forehead against Randy's temple, bringing his lips close to the younger man's ear.
"Please, think about it, Randy," he whispered, begged. "I don't want you to die."
John's words hurt and soothed him at the same time and again his mind screamed to send the older man away before it was too late, yet his heart refused to let him go and he wanted to hide in his embrace. His breath hitched in his throat and his eyes began to burn as hot tears started to run down his face.
"I don't want to lose you, Randy…"
John's voice broke as the pain was back, flaring up full force, burning, numbing, cutting through him, devouring him. Tears he didn't even noticed being there fell, mingling with Randy's.
The room fell quiet as both men cried silently. And once again John felt like Randy's life slipped through his fingers, no matter how hard he tried get a hold on it.
Time was running… and it seemed to outrun John…
x
It was already dark outside when John arrived at the house. Randy's house. A quite big, white painted, conservative house with a nice little front garden. He'd been here before a few times, dropping Randy off after being out for a drink together.
While lying in the rather slim hospital bed with Randy in his arms, he'd decided to come here and talk to Sam. He wanted Randy to stay alive and to make that happen he needed him to change his mind and… he needed good arguments to convince him to do so. He was sure that Randy's little girl was a good reason but he had to talk Sam into giving him the chance to see her first.
Slowly walking up the path to the house, he reeled the speech he'd been preparing ever since leaving the hospital over and over again in his head, imagining possible reactions and trying to find a good answer to them. This had to work out. It had to.
When John arrived at the door, he just stood there for a few minutes, clenching and unclenching his fists nervously.
God please let her at least listen to me...
And then, brushing his hands through his face, he took a deep breath and reached out, hitting the doorbell and despite his nervousness he had to smile. The house looked conservative and the doorbell sounded conservative. So very not Randy. Really, the man was heavily inked and liked Metal and such stuff.
His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened a crack and a woman… Sam... peered through it. Hoping this wouldn't end up in a disaster, he pulled up a gaining smile.
"Hi, my name is John Cena. I, uhm, I wanted to talk with you about Randy and…" he started but she cut him off.
"I know who you are and I'm not the least bit interested in talking about him," she snapped. "It's late and you should go now."
Just as she wanted to close the door again, John put his foot between door and frame.
"Sam, wait. At least listen to me. Please."
Sam glared at him through the crack for a few moments and John thought that Sam either had never been a very amiable woman or that she was simply filled with pure bitterness after all that had happened.
Then her eyes softened a tiny, tiny bit as she said: "Uhm… well, okay. Take your foot away, I need to open the door latch."
Reluctantly he took his foot away. There was a fifty-fifty chance that she wouldn't open the door again. But she did open the door, beckoning to him to come in. The house was as conservative on the inside as it was on the outside John noticed as he followed her to the living room where he sat down on the couch. Sam chose the armchair on the opposite side.
"Keep it short," she said clipped, crossing her arms over her chest.
John nodded lightly, thinking that this would be everything… except easy. She wanted him to keep it short and so he decided to do as he was asked.
"Why isn't Randy allowed to see his daughter?"
She squinted her eyes at him.
"Did he send you?"
Her voice dripped with venom and he wondered how love can turn to such bitter hate.
"No, he didn't. He has no idea that I'm sitting here," John explained softly. "Sam, I'm here because I want him to fight for his life, okay? I'm trying to convince him that there are reasons to live. And his daughter is one of those reasons."
Huffing a bitter laugh she stood up and started to walk about the room.
"That's wasted time, John. I already tried that but he chose to die. Not his parents or I, not even his own daughter is reason enough for him to come to senses. And I don't want Alanna to see her Daddy die! He wanted it this way and now he has to live with his decision!"
John folded his hands and stared at them while he heard her walk through the room.
"What did you tell her why she can't see him?"
She stopped her pacing for a moment and he felt her eyes on his back.
"That he left."
Turning his head slightly to the side, he gazed at her from the corner of his eye. Her beautiful face was twisted in anger.
"Oh, good. And you think it's better to make her think that her Daddy isn't interested in her anymore than to tell her that her Daddy is sick?"
With a few quick strides she was in front of him with her arms akimbo, glaring at him.
"And tell a four years old that her Daddy's gonna die?! You have no fucking idea! I tried to make him change his mind, I tried it over and over again but he decided to destroy our family by being the egoistic asshole he is! And who are you anyway to stick your nose into our family business, Cena?!"
She hauled those words at him, bitter, hard words. Slowly he got up from his place and stepped away from her, walking over to the window to gaze out into the dark night.
"Maybe you haven't tried hard enough, Sam. It took me weeks but I managed to get through to him," he spoke quietly. "And I promised to stay at his side, no matter which way he chooses. This should be your job, by the way. In good times and in bad times, remember? Anyway, as long as there is enough time, I'm gonna do everything to make him change his mind. And that includes his daughter. And if time runs out, I'm still gonna be at his side."
Turning around to her, he leaned against the windowsill, looking straight into her anger-blazing eyes and he saw there that his words had hit home. But she wasn't the only one who was angry. Deep in his guts he felt something coil up at the whole fucking situation, but he tried to stay calm.
"You don't need to agree with his decision and you don't need to take him back, but at least give him the chance to see his little girl," John added. "And give me the chance to save him. Please, Sam, I need your help."
For a moment she just stood there, staring at him in anger and something else John couldn't name, before her jaw set.
Motioning towards the front door she hissed: "He let us down, so why should I put my daughter and myself through this shit. No, John, I'm through with this and with him. And we're done here. Go."
Gritting his teeth he told himself that it wasn't a good idea to grab her and shake some sense into her pretty head. And yelling wouldn't do any good, too, so he nodded lightly and swallowed his growing anger down. Never give up hope, right? Maybe, if she had some time to think about their little conversation… just maybe… she would give in.
"Okay, I see. Just… you know, you wouldn't need to be around for the visit. If you drop Alanna off in front of his room, I could bring her to him and later back to you? Just give it a thought," he suggested as a last attempt and pulled out a calling card, laying it on the armrest of the couch, just in case she decided to agree to his suggestion and wanted to call him.
Making his way towards the front door, he turned around in the doorway of the living-room, eyeing her for a few seconds.
"I know you're not interested in how he's doing, but I think you should know that his injuries from the accident are getting better. But… they found a third tumor during the emergency operation in the area of the broken vertebrae, close to the spinal marrow. They removed it and the damage the surgery left to the spinal marrow caused a paraplegia. Just in case that deep down inside that embittered heart of yours there is a small part left that's interested in him."
That said he turned away from her, left the house and walked down the garden path until he reached the curb where he stopped, directing his gaze up to the night sky. The night was surprisingly clear and the air was just warm enough to make it a beautiful night, with sparkling stars and a calming atmosphere.
John really hoped that she gave it a thought or two. In a way he could understand her, but she was Randy's wife and it was her duty to be at his side and be there for him. A part of him wanted to go back to the house and fucking tell her that he knew how it felt when the person you loved most decided not to fight for his life. That he knew how she felt when it came to Randy, except that he wouldn't give the younger man up. And he wanted to ask her if she'd ever really loved him.
But he didn't. Instead he only gazed back to the house, where he found her standing at the window, watching him. He sighed and started to walk to his car.
Just as he climbed onto the driver's seat his cell beeped, showing him a message from Randy.
You gonna drop in tomorrow?
John smiled and ran his thumb over the screen. Not long ago John would have bet that Randy would be afraid that he would come back, and now… the very reverse. It almost seemed as if Randy was still kind of afraid that he wouldn't come back.
Sure thing, wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
He hit the send button and hoped like so often that he didn't overstep a line. He was aware that some of the things he did and sometimes even the words he chose could be misinterpret… or rather be interpret exactly the way they were meant… A moment later his cell beeped again. Another message from Randy. A message that made his smile lighten up a few degrees and bestowed him a warm tingle in his belly…
Good, because I wouldn't want you to be anywhere else, too :-)
Laughing softly he started the car and headed home, hoping that Sam would change her mind. And Randy's last message gave him the slight hope that maybe they were on the right way…