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

"I-I don't..." Seth stared at the photo in confusion, the truth of the matter refusing to sink in to his exhausted, pain-ridden brain. "No, you don't understand, officer. He couldn't have killed Ryback - I mean, Ryan. He wasn't even in town!"

Officer de Blanc seemed unimpressed. Undoubtedly, he had heard numerous sob stories like the one Seth was trying to sell. Unfortunately, however, in this case, Seth was telling the truth. "Mhmm... tell me, where you with this man the night of the murder, to prove his whereabouts between the hours of eight and eleven?"

"No." Seth answered immediately, perhaps a little too fast. He wanted to continue, 'but I know that he couldn't have killed Ryback, because I was the one that plunged the knife into his neck in self-defense', but refrained. "Sir, I swear, you have to believe me. Dean couldn't even hurt a fly!"

Instead of responding to Seth's frantic ramblings, Officer de Blanc chose a different course of action. "What is your relationship to the accused?"

Seth sniffled, before rubbing at his eyes with his uninjured hand. "He's my boyfriend."

"And, tell me, is it not true that you're here to testify in a trial against the late Mr. Reeves, regarding rape and kidnapping allegations against him?" He continued.

"They weren't allegations!" The two-toned man didn't even realize he was screaming until a petite, red-haired nurse poked her head in to make sure that everything was alright. Taking a slow, deep breath in order to calm himself, he continued, "I'll never be able to forget the things that that man did to me. What he did... it was torture."

As soon as those words left Seth's mouth, the officer smiled. It was a dark, grisly expression. "And who is to say that Mr. Ambrose would not exact revenge for you?"

Seth swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes closed. His hand was clenching within the cast, sending shooting pain up his arm. "I don't believe it. I won't believe it. You don't know him! You don't know what kind of man he is -,"

"I know that this is a crazy world, and people do some fucked-up things for love." Officer de Blanc responded, disinterestedly.

"Don't pretend like you know him!" Seth hated the smug, arrogant look on the bastard's face, and had half a mind to see if a mouthful of fiberglass would make it look any better. "Don't pretend like you know anything about him!"

"Are you saying he doesn't love you enough to kill for you?" His tone was mocking, almost condescending.

Seth, realizing that his words were now a challenge, met him where he stood. "No." A pause, "I'm saying that he loves me enough to die for me."

One Hour Later

Everything in Dean's final letter was coming together with unsettling clarity. Roman realized now why Dean had foreseen that he would be 'too late', because not only had the flight been delayed because of poor conditions, but, upon arriving in Orlando, all of the rental cars were sold out and no taxi would stop for him. Gaining entrance to the arena had been even more difficult. Security was tight, even after hours. It had taken some delicate maneuvering to make it inside without being detected by any of the security cameras (of which, there were many) and to pick the lock that lead to the locker rooms without tripping an alarm.

An hour after arriving in Orlando, however, Roman stood outside of the door. The soft plink, plink, plink, of a liquid dripping onto the tile floor caused his stomach to lurch and settle uncomfortably. Deep down, he knew exactly what would face him on the other side of the door. Was he ready to see it? No... and he was quite sure that he never would be. Why had the letter been directed toward him? Why him? Any other superstar could've been lured to follow the clues to their wretched end. But none would understand the significance of a letter bringing them to this final spot... other than Roman. Roman would understand, because of the letters of hate.

But that didn't make this any easier. He found himself hesitating to reach for the doorknob, even though he knew that he would have to eventually. Was he scared? Yes. He was terrified, perhaps even more so then he had been when he'd been thrown down onto the ground and abused by Ryback. He still bore the scars from that altercation, but he had a feeling that these would cut deeper and last impossibly longer. Finally, he grabbed hold of the doorknob and twisted. Locked. Locked? And then, his eyes flickered over to a slip of paper that had been taped to the door. In front of it, a key had been attached. Presumably, it was the key to the room.

Roman,

Looks like you found me. I sincerely hope that you headed my words and told no-one of your intent to come find me. Nobody else needs to know about this. Nobody else needs to worry after me. In fact, I'm sorry to trouble you with all of this. You don't deserve it.

I'm sure that you've already found the key attached to the letter. It's the key to the locker room. By now, I'm sure that you're pulling out your phone to call an ambulance. Don't bother. It's not worth it. Realize that I arrived here late last night and, assuming you arrive early the next morning, there is approximately one hour unaccounted for between the two of us. In other words, by the time you arrive, I'll have been gone for a little under an hour.

I'm asking that you please respect my final wish and keep whatever you see between the two of us. Seth doesn't need to know. I realize the delicate frame of mind that he's in right now, and I don't want to jeopardize all of the progress that he's made. I've already called and left a message on his answering machine. He thinks that I'm leaving, and that's the story I want... no, I need you to stick to. The truth will destroy him. You and I both know that.

Please, I ask nothing else but that you don't tell Seth what you see behind this door. If you can do that one thing for me... the key is yours.

Dean

Roman didn't realize that the hand, which held the key, was trembling. Could he really do it? Could he go inside, and find Dean lying there, and accept the fact that there was absolutely nothing he could do to save him? Could he slowly dress him, if only to preserve what little dignity he had left, and then call an ambulance and watch him be carted away? Could he watch as the cops came in and asked him what had happened, and keep to his promise to Dean? Thinking back to what Dean had once said to Seth, could he really accept the unacceptable?

Shoving the key into the lock, he took a deep breath. Unlocking the door, he rushed inside. No amount of preparation could have readied him for what he saw. The first thing that he saw was the bloody knife, which had fallen to the floor. His eyes slowly moved from the knife, to the bench where he was cuffed, to the blood that stained his wrist and the floor... and the key that was in his other hand. It was the key to his handcuffs. With a trembling hand, Roman took the key and unlocked Dean's wrist. Without further delay, Dean's body fell off of the bench and into Roman's waiting arms. Roman choked back a sob.

"D-Dean... why?" All of the emotion that had been bottled inside of him were unleashed in hot, vicious tears. "It would have been self-defense, you idiot... It would have been self-defense..." Unable to hold back any longer, he pulled out his phone and dialed 911.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My boyfriend... he..." Roman stared down at Dean's body, staring into his half-open emerald eyes, "he just killed himself."

"Alright, sir. Just hang on - we're dispatching an ambulance to your location."

Roman clutched Dean's body ever closer, trembling at how cold Dean's skin was to the touch. It was too late... too late for everything. It didn't matter if an ambulance came... Dean was already gone. "Thank you..."