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

Once Dean and Roman arrived back at their hotel room, Dean dropped their bags by the door, before slowly helping Roman to take a seat on the bed. He began helping the bigger man undress, not even bothering to wait to be asked. Roman was a man of honor and pride, and his pride had already taken a beating that night. Dean wasn't sadistic - he didn't want to subject Roman to any more pain and embarrassment than he'd already been forced to endure. So he carefully slid the big man's shirt over his head, before starting in on his belt. The action, which should have been incredibly sexual, turned out to only be sad for both parties involved.

As he carefully drew the belt through the loops and started in on Roman's zipper, he realized that he know had a full view of Roman's allotment of bruises and scars from earlier that night. He looked like he'd been to hell and back. Dark, purplish-black bruises in various shapes and sizes marred his back, all looking to be incredibly deep and incredibly painful. The back of his rib-cage seemed to have taken the worst of the blows. It was any wonder how he was sitting perfectly straight right now, defiantly sucking in deep breaths. There was pain in his eyes, but that was the extent of it. No sound came out of his mouth.

"You're gonna have to stand up for me to take your pants off." Dean said. Once again, such a sexual statement should have immediately caused both to become aroused, but it didn't. Offering Roman his arm, he gently removed his slacks and tossed them into the growing pile of clothes.

"I feel like death." It was the first thing that Roman had said since arriving in the hotel room, and it wasn't so much a complaint as it was a statement of fact.

Dean nodded, "You look like death, too." And then, "Is the Tylenol doing anything?" He asked hopefully.

Roman only shook his head, which was exactly what Dean had feared. Tylenol wouldn't touch bruises that were that deep. "How is your chest? Do you have any pain when I touch you here?" He gently pressed his fingers to the front of Roman's rib-cage, then to his stomach, then to his abs. Roman shook his head each time.

"No, that doesn't hurt." He'd definitely be laying on his stomach, then.

"I'm gonna help you lay down and then I'm gonna rub some healing salve on your back, okay? The very least it will do is numb some of the pain and make you sleep a little easier." Dean really hated seeing Roman reduced to this - it simply wasn't right, or fair.

Roman said nothing, and Dean simply took that to mean that he agreed. Taking Roman's arm, he helped him to slide onto the bed, trying to avoid bending his back as much as possible. As soon as he was situated, Roman buried his face in the pillow and lay there, motionless. Dean stood by and stared for a moment, before disappearing into the bathroom and retrieving the salve from their other emergency medical supplies. Returning, he unscrewed the lid, gathered a generous amount onto his fingers, and gingerly started to spread it over Roman's battered back.

As soon as Dean's fingers made contact with Roman's back, he hissed and flinched away. Dean winced, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Roman wasn't particularly thankful for the apology, however. "Don't be. I'm a big boy. I can take it."

"Yeah, well... You shouldn't have to 'take it'." Dean sighed, trying again. His fingers were barely even ghosting over Roman's back, now.

"Dean." Roman growled, his voice low and his tone agitated. He didn't like being treated like a broken China doll, and he'd thought that he'd made that perfectly clear. "You can touch me. I'm not going to break. But if you keep treating me like I will, I will break you."

It was an empty threat, especially considering that Roman could barely even get off of the bed by himself. Nevertheless, it wouldn't do to upset or agitate Roman further. He needed to concentrate his energy on healing. "Whatever you say."

He pressed harder, fingers digging into the abused flesh of Roman's back. It made him uneasy, feeling how easily the bruises gave way beneath his touch. Roman's fingers were biting into the pillow, hands pulling in opposite directions as he attempted to viciously rip the pillow into two pieces. But Dean didn't stop. Much as he knew this was hurting Roman, he also recognized that stopping would hurt him as well. Roman desperately needed to cling to his appearance as the unshakable dominant, the protector that didn't need anyone watching his back. Going easy on him now would shatter that façade.

Once he had finished, he recapped the salve and put it on the bedside table. He cleaned his hands off on a towel, before laying down beside Roman and gently stroking his long, black hair. This was one comfort that Roman allowed himself, one that would not offend him. "Would you like some ice for your back?"

"I'm fine." Roman refused almost immediately. But then, so softly that Dean almost didn't hear him, "Thank you."

"I love you." Dean kissed the shell of Roman's ear, before wrapping himself around the bigger man as carefully as possible. Roman wouldn't be able to hold him that night, but he'd take the comfort in any way that he could find it.

And even though he couldn't see it, Dean knew that Roman was smiling. "You too."

Seth stood outside of the door, fidgeting awkwardly. There was a letter in his hands. Not unlike the ones that Ryback had left for him, it was merely a sheet of paper that had been folded three times, with the names of the intended typed on the side facing 'up'. There was no signature at the bottom of the page to identify who had written it, but he really didn't think that that would matter. One look at the words contained therein and they'd be able to guess, no problem. Maybe it would even be enough to cause them to worry about him, maybe not. Most likely, they'd discard it after reading the first line.

He wanted to go inside the hotel room, climb into bed between them, and simply be held. He wanted to forget about being tortured by Ryback, about signing the contract to join the Authority, about being Roman to a pulp and feeling lower than ever about himself for it. He didn't know how Randy could do it. How could Randy just continue to beat John to a bloody pulp and feel absolutely nothing afterwards? Didn't he love John once? Because Seth still loved Roman and Dean, and after what he'd done, he wanted to crawl into a hole and never see the light of day again. And that's why he knew that he needed to do this.

He turned the letter over and over in his hands, before finally bending down and slipping it underneath the door. Odds were, they'd already retired for the night and wouldn't read it until the next morning, which was fine by him. He didn't need to be around when they read it - actually, he'd prefer if he was as far away from the scene as possible. Standing once again, he stared at the door a moment longer. All he needed to do was go downstairs and say that he'd lost his room key, and the front desk would hand over a key that would let him back into the life that he'd lost. But he couldn't do that, and even if he could, he knew he wouldn't.

"Goodbye." He touched a hand to the door, before kissing the wood. "I love you." And then he left.

"Randy, would you open the fucking door?" Seth paused, about fifteen feet down the hall from the room that he was currently sharing with Randy. John was standing outside of the door, fist raised, looking as if he'd just finished knocking on the door. Well, he certainly hadn't expected that.

"Please, just go away, John." Randy mumbled. He sounded broken and defeated, and nothing like the Randy that had promised him that things would get easier.

"I'm not leaving this time, Randy. We need to talk about this." John said. "Do you know how much it hurt me that you just left, without a word? I can't move on, can't move forward... not until I know why you seem to hate me so much. Why do you hate me, Randy? What did I do to you?"

There was silence from the other side of the door, and then, a mumbled, "I don't want to talk about this right now, John. Please, just leave. Seth will be coming back at any moment."

John didn't seem to take that too well. "What, so you're shacking up with Seth now?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Seth is still recovering from breaking up with Roman and Dean!" Randy responded darkly.

"Oh, so you're the rebound. I thought you thought more of yourself, Randy." That was a low blow, but John was hurting and he wanted Randy to hurt as much as he did. What he didn't realize was that Randy already did. "You're just gonna sell yourself out to him, huh?"

"Fuck off, John!" There was a choked sob from inside the room, and it was obvious that Randy was crying.

John punched the wall next to the door, and it was any wonder that they hadn't woken the people next door yet. "I love you so much, Randy. So fucking much. I don't know what I'm expected to do without you. I would give you anything."

Seth felt his heart breaking for those two, especially since he, as an insider, understood what it was that Randy was going through. He knew the pain that he was feeling, wanting to crawl back into his lover's arms but knowing that, in doing so, he was putting him in danger. He almost wanted to tell Randy to fuck it, just go back to John, how would Hunter ever know? But he knew that that would be a mistake. Hunter had eyes and ears everywhere, and he would find out, one way or another. And if Randy just caved, he would be putting both of their jobs on the line.

He knew that it was taking everything in Randy's power to not cave, though. The only difference between his situation and Randy's was that he was the one groveling to Roman and Dean, and that John was the one groveling to Randy. He was hurting Randy and he knew that he should step in and stop it, but he didn't want to let him know that he'd been standing there for so long. John leaned forward, pressing his head against the door to the hotel room. He was crying, and so was Randy, and Seth was scared because everything hurt and everybody hurt. Why did life have to be so hard?

John sighed, then, "I'm planning on leaving the WWE for a little while. I've asked for an injury to be written into my storyline so that I can have some time to think." John was having trouble keeping his voice steady, "I love you, Randy. I can't stay around, knowing how much you hate me now."

There was a sound, like the door being unlocked. Then, silence. The door never opened. "I don't hate you, John."

"Then why won't you open the door and look me in the eye?" John asked, his voice soft and uncertain.

"Please, John. You're hurting me by doing this." While he realized that this was a low blow, he knew that this was the only way to get John off his case. There was a long, painful stretch of silence on the other side of the door, then -,

"I'm leaving now, and I won't be back again." And he sounded emptier than ever before. "I hope you're happy."

Seth had just enough presence of mind to hide before John came barreling around the corner, pressing the 'down' button on the elevator with much more force than necessary. When the doors opened and he stepped inside, Seth turned around the corner and used his keycard to enter the hotel room. Randy was a mess just beyond the door. There was no hint that he'd even recognized that Seth had entered the room, other than the slight tensing of his shoulders. Seth said nothing, only handed the Viper a tissue. He took it and crumpled it in his hands.

"The problems, they never go away." Randy mumbled softly, tearing at the tissue in his trembling hands. "But sometimes, it helps to pretend that they don't exist."

"You can't just pretend like nothing happened. You can't avoid him forever." Seth said softly.

"I can't?" That sounded like a challenge.

Dean awoke first the next morning. It had taken some time for Roman to fall asleep, but now that he had, Dean didn't really want to wake him. So he carefully slipped out of bed and made his way over to the mini-fridge, which was by the door to the hotel room. As he bent down to grab a bottle of water, he saw something on the floor just a little ways away from the door. Upon closer inspection, it was a piece of paper, folded three times, with both his and Roman's name on it. Now more interested in it then the water, he reached over and grabbed it, unfolding it slowly.

Dean and Roman,

I have no reason to believe that you will take the time to read this. Hell, for all that I know, you've already thrown it out. But I sincerely hope that you take the time to finish reading what I have to say - it may not change your opinion of me in the least, but at the very least you'll, hopefully, understand.

I never meant to hurt you. You two were the lights of my life, my saviors when I was at my lowest point. I probably would not still be here right now to write you this letter had you not come into my life when you did. At that time, Ryback had set his sights on destroying me and it was working. I felt lower than I ever had before and had contemplated ending everything on multiple occasions. You two saved me from walking down that long road from which there is no return.

My time with you was the happiest of my life. That is why this is so difficult for me. Walking away from our encounter tonight, I realize what needs to be done. You two deserve better than I can hope to offer. And that's why I'm writing to tell you goodbye. This is the last time that I will bother the two of you.

I'm sorry. For everything.

Seth

"Fuck..." Dean's eyes raked over the letter once more, before he folded it back up and turned around, realizing that waking Roman was inevitable at this point. "Roman? Roman, we have a problem."