Here it is, guys. The aftermath. The resolution. The last chapter of this story. I'll be posting an epilogue, but I couldn't bring myself to write it tonight. It'll probably be tomorrow. It's too unreal to think that this story is actually over. It actually bums me out pretty hardcore! I put so much emotion and heart into it. So many hours of writing and brainstorming and rewriting, and several minutes I read over all the kind reviews...they lifted me up, each and every one, every day. You guys are wonderful. I thank you with all my heart for sharing this journey with me. I can't wait to see where it goes from here. I'm excited to share it with you. A little tease of the next story in the "To Love A Lunatic" series: the title! "Who I Am." It comes from a song by Wade Bowen. It fits Dean's feelings for Roman well, and there's a line in it that says "more than words"! A fun coincidence! :) Dean will most definitely be singing the acoustic version of that song sometime in the next story. So be on the lookout for that. ;) But until that point, enjoy this final chapter, and gear up for the epilogue~
Roman had a laundry list of injuries.
A moderate case of hypothermia. Frostbite on two of his fingers. He'd sliced his foot open on a rock in the pool without even realizing it; the cold water and shock had numbed the pain and impeded blood flow until he was in the ambulance. It was treated with a surgical tape closure. Bruising on his back. A hyperextended elbow. A pulled hamstring and whiplash from the jump.
His at-home care instructions were practically a manual.
His—and the doctor's—biggest concern was his damaged leg. He'd suffered the laceration on the same leg with the pulled hamstring. Roman's head rolled forward and back, eyes leaden, as his enervated brain tried to make sense of her instructions. Her voice was a vestige of someone who was there, yet felt so far away.
"You may use crutches to move around if absolutely necessary," she directed. "You'll heal up quickest by staying off of it. Use RICE: rest, ice, compression, and elevation for your hamstring. That can also be used for your whiplash. As for your foot, again, stay off of it. Keep the area clean. I'm prescribing a cream for you to use twice a day, and some pain medicine for…well, everything else. Keep the foot bandaged. Change them no less than twice a day. And your fingers, keep them under wraps." She smiled at her lame pun. "In your follow-up appointment tomorrow, we'll check them again. Your frostbite isn't severe, so there's little risk for amputation. Are you with me, Roman? Any questions?"
"Can I see them?" Roman grumbled like a drunkard. He was sure that wasn't the first time he'd asked that question.
She smiled at him. "Let me see what I can do."
Roman leaned back on the pillow and nearly sighed himself to sleep. He'd gotten here sometime last night, now brilliant sunlight was suffusing the curtains over the single window in the tiny room. He didn't know what time it was. Early or late. Daytime, that was obvious. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to eat.
But most of all, he craved his family.
Roman glanced through tired eyes off to the side. Two crutches leaned against the bedpost. She'd mentioned those, hadn't she? Something about putting them to use. Roman grunted. He didn't want to. But he'd have to.
Looks like he'd be out of work for a while.
He closed his eyes and tried not to think about how damaging that would be financially.
A moment later he was no longer alone.
His eyes drew open. His doctor—damn his depletion from wiping her name from memory—stood in the doorway with an equally-weary Seth. His face erupted in bliss at the sight of Roman. Roman lifted from the bed, forgetting about his leg injury. Pain careened from his sole to his knee, and he stumbled forward.
The doctor flinched, but Seth caught him in a hold. "Careful," he said.
Seth eased Roman back onto the bed and shrouded him in his arms. Roman embraced Seth firmly. He felt so warm, so good...Roman was overwhelmed. Seth was alive. He wasn't even hurt. He'd been spared pain, physical anyhow, that night.
"You alright?" Seth asked.
"Think so," Roman answered. His voice was still rough, throat still stinging. "Will be."
Roman could feel Seth smiling. "'Course you will." Felt Seth's hand fondle his back. "It's official, Roman—you are one hundred million percent the real Superman."
"News is out. Gotta change my secret identity again."
Seth pulled from Roman's hug, still smiling. "It's so good to see you alive. But I swear to God, don't you ever jump off a waterfall ever again." He pushed a finger against Roman's shoulders on the emphasized word. "It damn near killed me to watch Dean get pushed off, let alone witness you jump willingly…"
Roman took hold of his finger. "Don't get held hostage by a psycho bitch on top of a waterfall, and I probably won't ever do that ever again."
"Well, she's history now. She and her behemoth brother."
Roman looked to the doctor next. "Dean?" he requested.
"He's still with his attending physician. I think they're almost done."
"Is he okay?"
"He's a little frazzled," Seth answered, "but I think he'll be okay. Guy's been to hell and back so much, he's got a bunch of travel points saved up."
"We should use them to go somewhere a little nicer than hell next time."
"I'll talk to Dean about it."
Roman wasn't giving up. "I'd really like to see him," he implored. "He's kind of the reason I'm in here in the first place. Please. Plus, I can practice using my crutches."
The doctor caved. "Alright. Come with me. Can you get to your crutches alright?"
Seth was on it. He helped position them under Roman's arm, then offered an arm of his own to lift Roman onto his good foot.
"You good?"
Roman took his first step—swing—with the crutches. Uncomfortable. Awkward. A pain in the ass. "Yeah. Good."
Roman followed Seth who followed Roman's doctor out of the exam room. They trailed her down a cramped, bleach-white hallway bustling with tumult. Two nurses nearly collided with Roman around a corner. Roman's doctor knocked on a closed door. As she pushed it open, Dean's voice cried out from within: "No!"
Concerned, Roman and Seth joined the doctor in the narrow doorway.
Dean was sitting up on the table. His head was swathed in a white bandage with a blot of red just above his eye, where he'd most likely sustained the injury that required the dressing. Both feet were wrapped in gauze. His right arm was pendent beside him.
"Mr. Moxley," his doctor stated, "it's necessary."
Seth and Roman traded looks. Moxley?
"I don't want that thing on me. Just give me medicine. I can cope."
"I will give you medicine. But you need this as well. You have to heal properly."
"What's going on?" Roman asked. The sight of Dean, alive, talking, breathing manifested a bit of relief in him, but he couldn't accept all of it wholly just yet since there was clearly another issue present.
"He wants to put a splint on me," Dean accused like it was a crime punishable by death.
The doctor closed his eyes and took in a breath, as though praying for forbearance to Dean's behavior.
"Do you…need a splint?" Seth queried.
"He cracked his his humerus and shattered his radius and ulna," the doctor explained.
"Oh. Yeah, dude, you need a splint."
"I can't," Dean said, shaking his head. "If he puts a splint on me, I have to come back in a few days for a cast. If he puts a cast on me, I have to wear the damn thing for six weeks. Six weeks!"
"De—Jon," Roman said, understanding Dean was once again using his Jon Moxley pseudonym for whatever reason. "You need it. Alright? You shattered your arm. It'll heal. You'll be fine."
"I can't play guitar with a cast."
"You can't play guitar with a broken arm, genius," Seth said.
"Please, Doctor Benjamin," Dean said. His beautiful eyes were spritzed with tears. Roman didn't see immature defiance or a juvenile outburst in Dean through this, but a fractured spirit determined to heal itself. "I've been without my guitar for weeks. I was only recently able to play her again. My guitar is my life. I don't want to go without her for another long, long period of time. Please." Dean bit his lip. What was he going to do, change the doc's mind? His reaction was pushing Roman to sadness, but it had no impact on the medical professional.
"I'm sorry, Jon. But the sooner you get this on you, the sooner it can come off. Your arm will make a full recovery, and you can play as much guitar as you like."
Dean's mournful eyes shifted to Roman. Roman wished there was more he could do than shrug a shoulder and say, "I'm sorry."
His frown didn't lift, as though it had dried in place like concrete. But he didn't resist or protest any further as Doctor Benjamin secured his useless arm in a sling.
"Had to be my good one, too," Dean sighed. "Just my luck."
"Misfortunate has a way of riding your ass," Seth said.
"Well, it can kiss it from that position."
"I'll go print your home care instructions," Doctor Benjamin said. Roman's doctor had scampered off a while ago. At last the three of them could be alone.
When he stepped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him, Dean hopped off the table and waddled towards Roman like the gauze dressings were house shoes. "Ro. I—" Dean licked his lips, eyes falling to the tile floor. "I really don't know how to thank you. I mean, Jesus," he said, laughter trembling. "You…you jumped off a goddamn cliff for me. Into a waterfall. To save my life. Doctors said I might have drowned at the bottom if it wasn't for you. Not kidding when I say, they said I was seconds from death."
Roman's chest constricted. "Perfect timing."
"Damn, I'll say. You…you just…" Dean shook his head. His ungroomed hair fell in messy locks over his taped forehead. "I love you so much. And I wish I could mean it more just by saying it. I love you. You mean more to me than…than music. Than Caroline. More to me than Annie ever did. If it had been you up there, and I was coming after you, I would have jumped for you, too."
Roman blinked. Now his eyes were moist. "I know you would have, Dean. Come here."
Dean literally sprung into Roman's arms. Roman nearly fell over, but he caught Dean with the right amount of balance and muscle to hold him there for a long, long time. Dean's splint pressed into his ribs, but it was pain he could afford to ignore. Dean trapped his lips in a delicious kiss.
Roman had to set Dean down, break this kiss, when his weight was too heavy to bear. "And you!" Dean exclaimed, tackling Seth in a hug as best he could. "Way to go all Rambo on those cranks. Holy shit, you blew my mind back there with your bravery, Seth."
"Yeah, that goes for me, too," Roman said. "Job well done, Rambo."
Seth blushed. "Guess I can thank my dad for something. He taught me everything I know about gun handling. And you know what? This is gonna sound really weird, but it felt strangely…good doing what I did."
"What, blowing Abigail Wyatt and that creeper Braun away? That ain't strange at all."
"No, not that. Not just that. I mean…last night was like working a case. Solving a mystery. Figuring out where you were. Being all sneaky in the dark with my weapon drawn. Contributing to the day-saving. I felt like a secret agent or something."
"You were!" Dean exclaimed. "You were a secret agent. And you did great."
"Thanks. What I mean is, it's something I thought I was actually kinda good at. Something I might have a passion for. Solving puzzles. Aiding in criminal justice." He looked to Roman, who understood what he was getting at.
"Feel it's a calling?" Roman asked.
"Maybe not a calling. It's not that strong yet. But it's…a curiosity. An inquiry."
"Think about it. Do some research. And if it comes down to it, maybe you could."
"Do what?" Dean asked. "What am I missing here?"
"I think I know what I want to do with my life, Dean," Seth replied, "and you've helped me figure it out along the way. Saving your ass all the time, mixing brains with brawn."
"You want to be Sherlock?"
Seth cracked a grin. "Close. Maybe I go back to school again. Maybe I get a degree in criminal justice. Become a detective eventually. Maybe even an FBI agent."
"Seth, you'd rock that. Seriously," Roman stated.
"You really believe that?"
"Absolutely."
"You'd make a hell of an FBI agent!" Dean said. "I mean, it would take time, but it'd be worth it."
"Of course," Seth said, nodding. "And it's not a decision I can make right this second, obviously. But like I said. It's an inquiry."
"We support you no matter what," Roman said.
"Think the college will let a three-time dropout back in the system?"
"Of course," Dean scoffed. "It's college. They don't care about your past. They just want your money."
"Major colleges care about your past," Roman pointed out.
Dean scoffed again. "Community college doesn't. And that's the first step. Like what you did that last time you tried going back to school. Get the degree there, then any college in the country will take you."
"Not any college," Seth said. "But—"
"Look, I ain't a pro in the field, alright? I'm just trying to encourage you. Stop shutting me out with reality." Dean lightly kicked Seth's leg.
"It can be a reality," Roman said. "And it's exciting to think about. Hell, I feel excited for you."
"Thanks, Roman," Seth said. "I'll definitely consider it."
Someone knocked on the door. Two men in suits, neither Roman nor Dean's doctors, stepped inside. Roman stepped protectively in front of Dean. An instinct by now.
"How are you boys doing?" the taller of the gentlemen asked. He had sunglasses resting on his blond head.
"Fantastic," Dean answered. Roman could almost hear an eye-roll in the word.
"I'm Detective Copeland, this is my partner Detective Reso. We've been working your case, and we have some…troubling information to pass along."
Roman's eyes narrowed. "What kind of troubling information?"
"Braun Strowman was found dead at the scene last night," Reso said, reading off a clipboard in his hands. "He was shot twice, fatally, by Mr. Rollins here." He nodded towards Seth.
Seth's face blanched. "It—it was in self-defense and I—"
"Relax, Seth. You won't be facing any charges, given the circumstances."
Seth sighed, color returning to his cheeks. "Thank God."
"But you said there were two assailants at the scene," Copeland said. "Correct?"
"Yeah, Braun and Abigail Wyatt," Roman answered. "Sister, I assumed."
"She was not found at the scene last night."
Roman's insides went rigid, colder than he'd felt last night.
Seth blinked. "Excuse me?"
"We found blood on the rock from which Mr. Ambrose was allegedly pushed, but when our officers made it up there, she was gone."
"Th-that-that's impossible," Seth babbled. "I shot her."
"Did you shoot her in the head? The chest?" Copeland quizzed.
"I-I can't remember." Seth rubbed the back of his neck. "The gun went off. I watched her fall. She was bleeding."
"Her body vanished by the time the boys made it up there," Reso said. "Nobody stole it away, so by reason, she must not have died, and made off on an escape herself."
"Abigail is still alive?" Dean whimpered. Roman snatched his hand. From here, he could feel Dean shivering.
"We have a massive manhunt on the search for her right now. Warrant out for her arrest, the works. We're doing all we can," Copeland said. "But if she's smart, she won't try to come after you. She might try to skip town. But we'll catch her."
Dean looked helplessly from Roman to Seth. Roman cleared his throat, not sure what to say but not wanting the silence to suffocate them.
"Thank you, Detectives. Please keep us updated on everything."
"We will," Reso promised. "We have your numbers. And we left ours with the doctors to pass onto you. Please call us if you need anything."
"Thanks. We will."
When the detectives left, Seth looked at Dean. "She won't come back."
"What if she does?"
"She won't. She may be sick and sadistic, but she's not stupid. She planned everything so carefully, back when she was just a shadow. Now she's got the entire police force on her ass. Copeland's right. She might just try fleeing town. She's got nothing left here. And as far as she knows, you're dead. She was down by the time Roman flung himself off the cliff, but she's the one who kicked you off. She'd have no reason to believe you pulled a Houdini and survived the impossible." Seth sucked in a breath. "If she was gonna come after anyone, it'd be me. I'm the one who shot her, and shot Braun."
"She won't come after you," Dean said. "No way. She's gotta stay in hiding unless she wants to get her ass arrested."
"Exactly." Seth smiled. "So don't worry, Dean. None of us should worry."
Something came to Roman's mind. He wanted Abigail out of the room, out of their minds, their lives. "Hey, why'd you go with the Jon Moxley alias?"
Dean winced. "'Cause I don't have insurance. But I needed treatment. I was kinda hoping you could lend me yours?"
"Sure. Of course. I mean, I'll fill the paperwork out for you, but you'll have to sign for it."
"Sure. I'll just teach myself how to write with my left hand for the first time in my life." He studied the calloused fingers of his good hand, the soft, warm skin, the tired muscle. "You useless hand, you."
Roman took the hand in a hold and kissed it.
"Hey, you made it out alright for someone who jumped his ass off a waterfall," Dean said. "You'll be challenging speeding bullets to races and getting confused for birds and planes again in no time."
"I know. But until then, I just want to rest. I'm so tired."
"Same. I say we just lie around at home in front of movies all day today. Maybe even all night tonight. And then some tomorrow."
"Lazy bastards," Seth teased.
Roman balanced himself on one foot to hold each of them in one arm. His family. His best friends. The love of his life, and a brother he never had and never knew he wanted until Seth came in. His musician and his Rollins. His world. His life.
"This is it," Roman said. "We're set for life here, guys. You and you and me. Unstoppable."
"Unbreakable," Seth said.
"A few badass motherfuckers!" Dean declared.
Roman smiled. "And nothing'll ever change it. Believe that."
Couldn't resist that final double cameo... Bonus points if you know who those detectives were. Won't be hard for my fellow awesome wrestling fans. ;) I'll be seeing you guys next time. Can't believe how much it hurts to bring this story to an end...ugh! Struggle is real!