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

A blur moved practically soundlessly in the darkness, remaining mostly unnoticed to the many cars speeding by on the nearby highway. The sidewalks were nearly abandoned, as was to be expected as such an hour (how many people would really be expected to be out and about at three in the morning, anyhow?), which was ideal for Randy. He wasn't really looking to have any unexpected run-ins with someone who might attempt to lead him off-course. Completely disregarding his earlier conversation with Seth, he knew what he needed to do. Deep down, he realized that this was the only way for him to fix things.

He'd fucked-up a lot lately - in his dealings with the Authority (most notably with the recent mess with him and Stephanie McMahon), in his dealings with Seth Rollins, and finally, in his dealings with John Cena. When he'd signed on to join the Authority, he'd promised to leave his life with John behind him. Absolutely nothing was allowed to interfere with his overall mission, which was to restore order to the WWE by whatever means necessary. And that started by giving them a strong, reliable leader that they could look up to. Hunter was now beginning to question whether or not he could consider Randy to be that leader.

Everything was being sucked out from underneath him, and the last thing that he needed was for John to waltz back in and tell him how much he still loved and cared about him. Was he so blind that he couldn't realize that Randy so obviously felt the same? Randy had been so, so in love with John - there was simply no way that he could reach in to his heart and flip the switch that would just turn those emotions off. He wished that it could be that simple, but it wasn't. Just like Seth simply couldn't pretend like the history between himself and his former Shield brethren didn't exist, Randy couldn't go back in time and pretend he and John had never been.

Absently, he wondered what John would think of his decision. But he immediately pushed that idea to the back of his brain. He didn't have the right to worry about that any longer, not after he'd, once again, hurt John so terribly. John deserved to be with someone that he could take care of, someone that would be able to return his love one-hundred and ten percent. And Randy needed to be man enough to admit that perhaps he wasn't that person for John. Yes, that realization hurt. But it would only hurt more if he allowed himself to hold on to the pipe dream that, one day, he and John would be able to be together.

Turning slightly, he looked out at the highway. It was almost beautiful, the way the street lights and various lights on the cars and trucks lit up the otherwise pitch black night. For a minute, he simply stared. Why had he come out here in the first place? What was it that he had wanted? He was a decent mile and a half, perhaps more, from the hotel where they were staying. There was always time to head back. Perhaps, if he hurried, he'd even manage to catch an hour or two of sleep before having to wake-up for their flight. But once again, he pushed the thought aside. Heading back was no longer an option.

A truck horn blared, piercing the silence. Randy knew what he had to do. Sucking in a deep breath, he started toward the curb. Eyes closed, he pictured John. John, who was standing out in the middle of the highway, arms open wide, waiting for him. He stepped down off of the curb, heading out to John. John was speaking to him, his lips moving slowly, unintelligible words leaving his lips. But to Randy, it was like he was being called home. He desired nothing more than to rest in those arms for only a moment, to be able to feel John's body pressed against his own.

"Goodbye, John." There was the piercing sound of the truck's horn blaring in his ear, and then there was absolutely nothing.

Dean slammed his fist down on the door, hoping against hope that he'd manage to get Seth's attention and wouldn't have to use the key. "Seth? Seth, open the door! We got the letter and we're willing to talk, but you need to open the door. Okay? Can you do that for me?"

There was a long stretch of silence, before Roman snatched the key from Dean, "We can't afford to wait any longer. We have to assume that he's already -,"

"Don't say that word." Dean cut him off sharply. "He's not. Not until I put my fingers on his neck and can't find his pulse, not until there's no chance that his heart can be shocked back into working order. You don't say that word until you're absolutely sure what you're talking about."

Roman was already scanning the key card, but was still taking in everything that Dean was saying. "Fine. But we have to assume that he's already done something to hurt himself, or worse. We can't stand around and wait for him. We just can't take that chance."

Once they had the door open, they immediately decided to spread out. Dean took the kitchenette and dinette area, while Roman took the bedroom and bathroom. Dean looked around at the shambles of the kitchenette - it looked like there had been a massive fight in there. Broken glass lay on the floor, and it was stained with dried blood. Furniture was overturned in the dinette, but that looked to be more the results of a tantrum than anything else. What the hell had happened? Dean knew that Randy and Seth didn't exactly get along, but this seemed to be more than a little bit out of character.

Roman was discovering more oddities on his end as well. The bed by the window, which was clearly Randy's, was very neatly made. On the other hand, the one that belonged to Seth looked slept in - and Seth always made the bed after sleeping in it (it was an easily-aggravated pet peeve when three people attempted to share the same bed). And the door to the bathroom was open as well... heading over toward the bathroom, he pushed the door open slightly further... and froze. There was a considerably sized pool of blood on the floor, and it was coming from Seth, who lay unconscious in the tub.

"Dean!" The dirty blond came charging into the bathroom, only to stop short upon seeing who was lying in the tub. "Dean, call 911."

Not needing to be told twice, he had the phone out and was dialing. "911, what's your emergency?"

"My boyfriend has tried to commit suicide." Dean hurriedly explained. "He's in the tub, unconscious. There's blood everywhere and it doesn't seem to be slowing down. He seems to be having trouble breathing as well. He might have water in his lungs." A pause, then, "Roman, check his pulse."

Roman put two fingers to Seth's neck, holding them there for a few seconds before proclaiming, "Weak, I can barely feel it. But it seems fairly steady."

Dean repeated all of this to the 911 Operator. There was another pause, then, "She says to rip up one of the towels and try to use it as a tourniquet. Tie it above his wound... his upper arm." Roman was tearing apart the towel, using it as the Operator had instructed.

"Done." Roman started to drain the water to the bathtub, not able to stand looking at the reddened water any longer.

"Now, place the wound in cold water. This will slow down the flow of blood and reduce pain and swelling. The hot water your boyfriend was bathing in accelerated the process of the bleed." She said.

Once all of the water drained out of the tub, Roman plugged it once again and started to fill it with cold water. Seth's body gave a sudden jolt as his body was submerged in the cold water, but otherwise, he didn't move. When the tub was full, Roman carefully transitioned Seth's arm so that it was in the water and, sitting on the side of the tub, placed Seth's head on his chest. He didn't think that he'd ever been so terrified in his life. The last time that Seth had tried this, he'd at least been responsive. Now, he was so far gone, they weren't sure that he'd ever come back...

"I will stay on the line with you until the ambulance arrives, okay?" Dean made a soft, affirmative noise. "Just try to keep him comfortable. Help will be there soon."