Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Threesome, Kidnapping, Threats, Self-Harm, etc.

Seth's hands trembled as he read over the letter for what seemed like the hundredth time. Even as he read the familiar words, there was something about them that just didn't mesh. For one, it wasn't Roman's handwriting. Roman was a messy writer, especially if he was under pressure. However, the lines on this note were distinct, each line carefully separated from the next. And, remarkably, there wasn't a lot of blood on it. For all of the blood concentrated at Roman's head, the note was remarkably pristine.

And, as he read over the contents again, he realized that it didn't even sound like something Roman would write. Roman wasn't suicidal. Even without Seth in his life, he still had Dean to take care of. Roman was in his prime when he had someone to take care of, and he certainly wouldn't risk his life just so he could be the one to hammer the nail into the coffin. Roman loved them. Not that he would ever say it out loud, but he did. He loved them, and this – this just wasn't like him. This, of course, posed his next question. Who did write the letter?

All of a sudden, he remembered his attacker slithering into the room. There was fresh blood on his body, mostly focused on his big, meaty hands. The man was a goliath, but what he remembered most about him where his horrendously gargantuan hands. They had left stains of crimson red all over the hotel room on the way to the shower. That, and his face was streaked in blood as well. It wasn't Seth's blood, so whose was it? And how exactly did he intend to find out? It wasn't like he was jumping at the chance to run back to that hotel room.

Carefully, he folded the note into fours and stuffed it into his back pocket. He was walking the streets alone in the middle of the night, and in light of recent events, he needed to keep all of his attention focused on his welfare. Turning the corner, he kept close to the wall, making sure that there was always a functioning street lamp in his line of sight. Nothing was worth his life. And while he would give his life for either man, he needed to live to find them first. The light above him flickered. With a hissing spit, it went out entirely. Wonderful.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when his cell phone vibrated in his back pocket. Putting a hand over his heart, he pulled it out and answered the call without even looking at the Caller ID. "Hello? You've reached Seth."

"Ah, Seth. I'm glad that you're still awake. My name is Dr. White, and I am the doctor assigned to Mr. Dean Ambrose. I'm calling because you're listed as Dean's emergency contact." The doctor said.

Seth's eyebrows furrowed. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would I…" he trailed off uncertainly. He realized that Dean must've never taken him off the emergency contact list. "We haven't… We haven't been in contact recently. What's the problem with him?"

"I'm not sure that that is the kind of information you want me to disclose over the phone, Mr. Rollins." The doctor said, her tone suddenly serious. "If you can, I would ask that you come down to the hospital as soon as possible."

Seth's heart constricted in his chest and suddenly it became ten-times harder to breathe. "Of course. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Very good." Dr. White said. "Also, would you happen to know an alternate number for a Mr. Roman Reigns. I haven't been able to reach him."

Seth looked down at the dried blood flaked on his hands. "I'd like to know the same thing." He mumbled.

A moment of silence passed between them, before they both suddenly realized that neither had hung up. "What was that that you said?" She asked, honestly curious.

"Nothing. I'm sorry, but I don't know any alternate numbers that you can use to reach Roman." Shakily, he sucked a harsh breath in. "I'll be there in a little while. Thanks for calling."

He hung up before the doctor could say another word. He really didn't want to listen to anything else that she had to say. Nothing would change the nature of the situation. Dean was in the hospital and nobody knew where Roman was. He didn't know who he should be more afraid for. And it was so emotionally exhausting to worry after both of them at all hours of the day. Now, at the very least, he was able to focus in on Dean. At the moment, the letter in his back pocket was forgotten.

He didn't even know where he was. Pulling out his cell phone, he put in the name of the hospital and searched for the fastest route there. As it turned out, he was only a few minutes away. He turned around and broke out in a run, not caring anymore if the lights were out or not. His lungs burned for oxygen, but he couldn't stop. Some of his wounds tore open and fresh blood poured out over his skin, but he didn't let it stop him. He only stopped when he stood outside of the automatic doors of the emergency room.

"My name is Seth Rollins. I received a call about fifteen minutes ago from Dr. White saying that my boyfriend had been brought in, but wouldn't tell me what his injury was or how bad it was." Seth told the receptionist breathlessly.

"Seth – I can honestly say that I didn't expect you to make it here that fast." Dr. White said. "It's okay, Betty, I can take it from here."

Seth stared into her eyes, terrified for his lover. "What's the matter with him, doctor? What happened to him?"

"Well, that's a long story. I don't know all of the information, only what the security officers were able to tell us." She said. "He was found in the bathroom, his arm cut, and his head in the freezing cold water."

Seth's face crumbled. His hands trembled uncontrollably and he stuffed them into his pockets, trying to make it less noticeable. "Did he… Oh, God… Did he drown? Was he breathing when they found him?"

"He wasn't breathing. They had to force the water out of his lungs and even then, it was still touch and go for a while. He's awake now and we've introduced mood stabilizing medication into his system for the time being."

Seth nodded – this was all so much to take in at once. "Can I go in and see him?"

She smiled. It was oddly charming and calmed him somewhat. "Of course. He's in the third room on the left."

Seth had to control the urge to run down the hallway and see his lover. Even if Dean didn't want him there, it didn't matter. He needed to be with him. Breathing heavily, stars flashing before his eyes, he tumbled into the third room on the left – barely managing to not knock over thousands of dollars in expensive medical equipment – and threw himself down in the EZ-chair at Dean's bedside. Dean watched all of this with a tired, slightly drunken look in his eyes. It must've been all the drinking he had done before Seth had gotten there.

God, had that only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago. He ran a hand through his sweaty two-toned locks, clutching his chest with the other one. The last thing he needed to do was have a heart attack while his boyfriend suffered because of him. And it was then that Seth realized he blamed himself for all of this. If only he had come out about the letters sooner, if only he had said something to Dean or Roman… he wouldn't be sitting at Dean's bedside, watching as the man stared at anything but him, nursing a stitched-up arm to his chest.

"Dean, I -," Seth started breathlessly, not knowing what else to say.

"Save it, Seth." Dean spat back, his temper flaring. "Why are you even here, anyhow? I certainly don't want you here."

Unbidden, tears started to bubble in Seth's eyes. "I know that you don't want me here, Dean. But I'm here because of this," he tapped Dean's arm gently, careful to avoid the neat, pinkish stitches.

"Oh, because I cut myself, you suddenly expect me to think that you give a damn? You walked out on us, Seth. All we wanted to do was find out what was wrong with you, and what do we get in return? You fucking hit me."

Seth flinched, remembering that incident. "I know, Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean scoffed, turning away from the smaller man. "Yeah, well, sorry doesn't cut it this time."

"You cut yourself because of me?" It wasn't a question, just a statement. Dean's lack of response, however, was more of an answer than he could have ever asked for. "Dean, I'm not worth -,"

"I know you're not worth it! Don't you think I figured that you already?" Dean spat back in his face.

Seth fell back into the chair, his heart shattering in his chest. He couldn't believe it. While he knew that no amount of 'I'm sorrys' would ever make this 'okay', he could at least hope that Dean could start to see it from his point-of-view. The tears that had started to bubble in Seth's eyes finally boiled over, falling down his cheeks in messy patterns. Quickly, he tried to clean them away before Dean could see, but Dean saw all. He scoffed, shooting Seth a look of absolute disbelief. Seth sighed.

"You're not the only one that's hurting, Dean." He confessed softly.

"What now? Come to tell me about trouble in paradise, huh? Let me be frank with you, Sethie. I'm not in the mood to hear it -," but Seth cut him off.

"I was raped, Dean."