Flatline

His things were gone when they got back to the hotel room.

Dean had helped Roman over to the bed, and then sunk to the ground at his feet. They were still sitting like that now – Dean on the floor with his head leaned against Roman's knee, Roman hunched forward, his hand resting on Dean's head. They hadn't moved, hadn't said a word.

Carly sat on the other bed and watched them. The air in here was warm and thick, but nobody cared enough to turn the air conditioner on. Her thoughts kept spinning and cycling back on each other. She was… She couldn't rightly say what she was. Stunned. Devastated. Lost. Listing the words objectively made her feel a little less sick inside.

She was angry. Somebody had hurt the people she loved. She wanted to protect Dean and Roman. Wanted to hold them and take away whatever was hurting them and tell them that it would be alright. She wanted to hurt the ones responsible. She wanted to make them pay for what they did. But the person responsible – was Seth.

The conflict of the thought mired her down further. It couldn't be Seth. Or, it couldn't be the same Seth. The Seth that put himself in harm's way countless times for Dean and Roman couldn't be the same Seth that beat them down so brutally, so coldly tonight. He couldn't have been just pretending to care about them, could he? It couldn't have all been an act.

Unless that was the reason he'd been acting so differently. That was why he kept going off by himself. That was why he was so withdrawn. That's why he'd been running hot and cold on them for the past month, and none of it had seemed sincere. The mask had been slipping.

But why? Why?

Why turn on them now? Why turn on them at all? What had changed, and when? Or had nothing changed? Was he just like Paige, only concerned about himself and his career? Was he willing to sell out his own brothers for that?

None of it made sense.

Dean and Roman hadn't moved since they sat down. It had been ten, twenty minutes now. It broke Carly's heart to look at them. She wanted to go to them, comfort them. She couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to intrude on their grief.

They'd just lost a brother. Just the night before, they had reached the highest point, the greatest victory of their careers, and now this. Their whole world had come crashing down around them. They were hurt, and confused, and angry, and broken.

Carly was hurt and angry, too, but it couldn't compare with what they were going through. They'd known him for years, and she hadn't even known him six months.

She wanted to help. She had no right to try.

Maybe she had no right to grieve, either.

Roman stirred, sitting up a little straighter. The movement jostled Dean's head slightly. Dean did not react.

"Dean?" said Roman, his voice hoarse and quiet, "I'm gonna hit the shower, alright?"

Dean nodded, said nothing. Roman's hand lingered a moment on Dean's hair before he slowly, painfully eased himself to his feet. Carly nearly jumped up to help him, but couldn't bring herself to act.

Roman closed the bathroom door, leaving Carly alone with Dean. He still stayed there, sitting on the floor. Carly wanted to kneel down beside him, but still she couldn't. She was afraid to touch him. She was afraid to wound him further when all she wanted to do was ease his pain.

She had been powerless to stop this from happening. Now, she was powerless to fix the damage.

Something. There had to be something she could do. She had to step back and be practical about this. Here were two men who'd gotten the hell beat out of them. One had a badly bruised back. The way to deal with a bruise was ice, ibuprofen, and rest. Ice. They didn't have any ice.

"Dean?" said Carly. Her voice sounded sharp in the stuffy silence of the hotel room, "I'm going to go get some ice. I'll be right back."

If Dean heard her at all, he gave no sign of it. Carly gathered up the ice bucket and her key and hurried off. Something told her she shouldn't leave Dean alone for too long.

He still hadn't moved when she got back. It was frankly unnerving to see Dean Ambrose completely still and silent. More than that, it felt incredibly wrong. Seeing someone who was usually so full of life now brutally laid so low, it was almost like he had died.

A few minutes later, Roman emerged from the bathroom. Something in his eyes when he looked down at Dean convinced Carly that Dean's uncommunicative state worried him, too.

"Shower's free," Roman said, his voice dull and soft, "You should get cleaned up, Dean."

Dean stood stiffly, without looking Roman in the eyes. He grabbed a change of clothes from his suitcase and locked himself in the bathroom. Roman's gaze followed him, and he stared a while at the closed door. Then Roman sighed and went to the mirror to comb out his hair.

A pained groan escaped his lips when he tried to raise his arm. Roman quickly dropped his arm to his side and took a few deep breaths. Carly couldn't imagine how much he must be hurting. When he made to lift his arm again, she couldn't bring herself to stay quiet.

"Roman, wait," she said hastily.

He turned to look at her in confusion. Carly went to him and held out her hand.

"Let me?" she asked.

It was a silly thing to offer to do, Carly knew that. But, for goodness sake, she had to do something to help Roman, however inconsequential. After a second's hesitation, Roman handed her the comb.

"Thanks," he said.

Roman sat down on the edge of the bed. Carly noted the way his eyes followed her when she walked around to kneel behind him. He watched her almost warily, like he was afraid to leave his back vulnerable, even to her. The thought made Carly's chest ache.

"Tell me if I hurt you, alright?" she said.

"Hmm," Roman answered quietly.

Carly carefully combed out his long, dark hair, working through any snarls as gently as possible. As Roman wasn't wearing a shirt, Carly could see the whole of his poor battered back. She was amazed that he and Dean were still standing with how much torture had been inflicted on them.

Helpless anger welled up in her again. She wanted to get in the car and track down Triple H and Randy Orton and… and Seth, and make them suffer.

When Carly finished combing, she gingerly pulled Roman's hair back and secured it with a hair-tie the way he always did before he went to bed. He was nearly as unresponsive as Dean, not even seeming to notice that she was done.

"Roman?" she said, "You should lay down so we can get some ice on your back."

"Don't worry about it," Roman said gruffly, "I'll be fine."

No, no he wouldn't. Carly slid off the bed and knelt in front of Roman, taking his hands in hers and looking earnestly up into his eyes.

"You're hurt, and you're exhausted," she said, "And I'm not gonna sit here while you let yourself suffer. Please, Roman. Let me take care of you."

A faint, resigned smile flickered across Roman's face.

"Alright, Carly," he said.

He stretched out on his stomach on top of the covers while Carly put together a few makeshift ice-packs. Carly got the feeling that Roman really didn't care that he was in pain, and was only humoring her because he knew it'd make her feel better. That would have to do for the time being. Carly couldn't do anything for a broken heart, but taking care of bruises was within her power.

Though she laid the ice on his back as gently as she could, Roman gasped and flinched slightly at the touch of it. Carly sat down on the other side of the bed, taking care not to jostle the mattress too much. She felt like she should say something. She wanted to say something that wasn't a useless cliché, that wasn't "I'm sorry" or "Are you alright?". She wanted to say something, not to fill the silence, but to reach out to Roman so he would know he wasn't alone.

So instead of saying anything, Carly did just that. Roman's hand was laying just next to the pillow. Carly reached over and placed hers on top of his. He didn't say a word and didn't open his eyes, but his hand closed tightly around her fingers. Carly did not let go, and Roman didn't either, until a few minutes later when his breathing slowed and his hold on Carly's hand relaxed, and he slept.

Carly removed the ice-packs and sat back down beside Roman. She was glad that he'd fallen asleep (goodness knows he needed it) but she was a little worried. Now she would have to handle Dean on her own, and she didn't think she'd be equal to the task.

No sooner had she started worrying than Dean stepped out of the bathroom. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at Roman. Dressed as he was in sweatpants and a tank-top, and with that utterly lost look in his eyes, Dean appeared unusually vulnerable.

"Is he asleep?" he asked.

Those were the first words he'd spoken in hours. His voice sounded strained.

"Yes," said Carly, "You should sleep, too, Dean."

Dean just shook his head at the gentle suggestion. Carly never thought she'd see that expression on Dean Ambrose's face, so blank and empty. The fatal shock to his system shut him down completely. The numbness protected him, for the moment.

"Please, will you try?" said Carly.

Carly had expected Dean to go to the other bed, like he always did. Instead, he sat down on the edge of Roman's bed, near Carly. She watched his face, not entirely sure what to do next. His mouth twitched suddenly and his brows furrowed. His breathing grew quicker and more shallow, and Carly realized that Dean was trying not to cry.

"Dean?" she said.

Dean bowed his head, his shoulders trembling. He leaned forward suddenly, throwing himself into Carly's arms. The force of it knocked her back onto the pillows. Dean's arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he buried his face into her shirt, curling up beside her. Breaths heaved through his chest, and sobs forced their way out, though he grit his teeth against them.

Pity clawed at Carly's heart at seeing him so broken and defenseless. She put her arms around Dean's shoulders and held him close.

"I don't understand," he cried, his voice breaking.

"I know, Dean," said Carly, "I've got you, okay? I'm here."

Carly gently stroked Dean's hair, running her fingers through the damp curls, and let him cry until all his tears were spent. Shuddering breaths still wracked his body, but they came less frequently. Poor Dean. He was worn out by grief and pain, just like Roman was. That outburst of emotion had completely exhausted him. Still, it had done some good to quiet his troubled heart. Carly continued to hold Dean and stroke his hair long after she was certain he was asleep.

xXx

Carly opened her eyes to the pale light of morning and remembered.

She wasn't sure when she'd drifted off. Dean and Roman were still asleep on either side of her. At some point during the night, Dean must have shifted around. His head rested on Carly's shoulder, and he was hugging her arm to his chest. Roman hadn't moved an inch. It seemed that she hadn't either.

All of this was wrong. She should've gotten up half an hour ago. She should be heading down to the lobby to meet Seth for breakfast. She should be hearing the morning news on the lobby television with the volume always slightly too high, smelling the welcoming richness of fresh coffee as Seth turned his head to smile at her, his warm brown eyes meeting hers as she walked to the table. A dull, hollow ache filled Carly's chest. Seth was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

Carly gently eased herself into a sitting position, carefully trying to free her arm from Dean's hold. He stirred a little, nestling his cheek into the pillow and pressing his now empty arms against his chest, but he didn't wake up. Carly slid down to the end of the bed and stood slowly. Looking down and Dean and Roman nearly broke her heart.

Their faces were still and untroubled in the faint, grey light. As long as they slept, they could forget. They were free from the stinging memory of the night before, of how the Shield had been shattered. Their brother had betrayed them.

Carly sat down on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Seth was gone. Oh, but it was far worse than that. Seth had never been there at all.

Carly hung her head and let herself cry in silence. Her shoulders shook as tears rolled down her face. How could she have been so wrong about him? He fooled them so completely. After everything the Shield had accomplished, everything Dean and Roman had done for him, everything he had done for them. The friendship he'd given her. Every word he'd said, every moment they'd spent together. Meaningless. All overshadowed by the look on his face when she last saw him: unconcerned and expressionless, with only calculations behind his eyes.

Her breath came in shuddering gasps. It felt like she'd been thinking through the events of last night over and over endlessly, each time bringing fresh, piercing misery. But she had to stop crying sometime. She'd broken down the night before. She couldn't let Dean and Roman see her do that again, not when they had their own grief to worry about. Carly went over to the sink and splashed some cold water on her face. She filled one of the plastic cups and drank it down quickly, finding that the coolness of it helped her swallow the sadness that constricted her throat like a snake.

She didn't want to wake Dean and Roman. She didn't feel like she had any right to, but she couldn't stand to be alone any longer. She looked back at them and found that she didn't have the heart to go over and actually wake them up, and she didn't trust her voice not to break if she called their names. Perhaps there was a gentler way.

A few minutes later, Carly poured two cups of coffee, making them up the way she knew the boys preferred: Roman's with just cream, Dean's with just sugar. She had hoped the scent of brewing coffee would bring them to gradually, and it did.

Dean stirred first, rubbing his eyes. He stared up at the ceiling for a minute, and his blank expression hardened. He rolled back onto his side.

"Roman? Roman," Dean muttered sleepily.

Roman's eyelids fluttered open.

"Dean?" he said.

Dean reached out to him and they clasped hands, laying there silently for a few moments, clinging to each other in the face of bitter reality. They sat up stiffly, slowly. Their battered backs clearly pained them. Now their faces were pale and drawn, and heartache showed through their empty eyes.

They both noticed Carly at the same time. They stared at each other wordlessly for a second. Carly tried to smile, but didn't have the strength to.

"Morning," she said faintly, holding out the cups of coffee to them.

The rest of the morning passed. Nobody seemed inclined to go down to breakfast. Nobody said much of anything. Eventually, Carly went back to her own room to pack while Dean and Roman did the same. They were going through the motions, each one trying not to draw attention to the fact that something was missing. They walked out to the parking lot together after checking out. Dean went on to put his things in the car.

"I'm taking Dean home with me," Roman said, "I don't want him to be alone right now."

"Good. That's a good idea. I'm glad," Carly nodded.

"You're welcome to come, too," said Roman, "If you want to, I mean."

Carly could tell he meant that offer sincerely, and she wanted so badly to accept it.

"Thank you, but I shouldn't. I couldn't," she said, "What Dean needs right now is his brother, and I think you need him, too. I can't… I can't begin to understand what the two of you- I want for you both to help each other pull through this, and I don't feel right intruding."

"I understand," said Roman, "But remember, I'm your brother, too, aren't I? So if you change your mind, little sister, the invitation still stands."

Carly looked up into his kind grey eyes and fought back tears that threatened to escape. After all Roman had just been through, even though he was still in so much pain, he was still the same warm, open-hearted man he'd always been. Carly stood on tip-toe and carefully hugged him around the neck.

"Thank you, Roman," she said.

"Anytime," he replied softly.

Dean walked back over, his hands jammed into his pockets. He seemed to be avoiding looking either of them in the eyes.

"We heading out?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Roman, "I'll call you when I get home, Carly."

"Thanks," she said, "Dean?"

Dean's eyes flicked towards her, but did not reach her face.

"Take care of yourself, alright?" she said.

Dean leaned over and kissed her quickly on the cheek.

"See you around, Carly," he said, still not looking her in the eyes.

Carly got into her car and drove off, taking the long highways home faster than she should've, trying to outrun the heartache that dogged her every mile.

(Note: Thank you once again to the lovely people who left reviews.)