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

The wedding date was fast approaching, and Chris could clearly see how nervous his fiance was becoming.

They'd decided on a fairly quick turnaround between the proposal and the wedding. Whether they liked it or not, they still had their real-life obligations, including Chris' continuation of his tour with Fozzy. And while Phil had let his contract with the WWE expire, he was anxiously preparing for his MMA debut in early 2016. With both these things in mind, they'd set the date for December 31st - they'd celebrate the New Year, and their nuptials, together.

Of course, with the wedding date so near, everything had gone to hell in a hand basket. The suits hadn't fit correctly (mostly Phil's), leading to Phil having a fit about how much weight he'd put on during the time he'd been away from the ring. It wasn't like he could even do more than he already was, for fear of worsening his injury. And then the invitations had arrived, fifty short and in the wrong colors.

Needless to say, Phil was just anxious for it all to be over. The only thing he was looking forward to was being able to look down at his hand and see Chris' ring on his finger, to be able to say to everyone that he was happily taken... He just wanted to stand at that altar and be declared husband and husband. Was that really too much to ask for?

Chris made his way over to his fiance, a steaming mug of tea in his hand. "What're you up to?"

Phil sighed, "Did you ever wonder why we decided to go through the whole mess of having a big wedding? I mean, everyone that really matters already knows how we feel about each other. It would be so much easier to just elope."

Chris was silent for a moment, before shrugging, "Then, why don't we just elope?"

"Why? I thought that you were the one that wanted a big wedding?" Phil looked so confused, it was rather adorable. "And besides, we already spent all this money on the invitations and the suits. Not to mention the reservations for the church, and the restaurant..."

"Love," Chris said softly, taking a seat beside Phil. It was almost time for Batman: The Animated Series to come on. "I want whatever it is that will make you happy. If that's a big wedding, then we'll go all out. But if you just want to elope, that's great too. As long as you're there with me, I'm happy."

Phil was practically grinning from ear to ear. "You're a giant sap, you know that?"

"Still want to elope?" Chris asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Everyone's gonna be so pissed off when they find out that the ceremony's off." Not to mention the flurry of unwanted questions regarding whether or not this meant they were also calling off the engagement...

Chris didn't seem too concerned by that fact. "Does that really matter? This... It's about us. Not them. Nobody else matters."

Sometimes, he forgot that this ceremony wasn't about pleasing anyone else. He'd gone to such lengths to make sure that everything was perfect - that the food being served would suit everyone's tastes, that the music wouldn't offend anyone (even if it wasn't what either of them would typically listen to), that the colors of the ceremony were easy on the eye. But was any of it what they really wanted?

"You don't know how much I'd love to never have to look at that suit ever again." He'd always felt like a stuffed sausage in a tux or a suit, even at the Hall of Fame induction ceremony.

Chris laughed, "If you really wanted, we could get married in jeans, sneakers, and t-shirts. I wouldn't care."

Phil smirked. "T-shirts? Really? We have to dress it up a little bit, Chris. We have to at least where nice dress shirts." Leave it to Phil to not be upset over the jeans or the sneakers - but t-shirts? That was just too much.

"Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want." Chris kissed his forehead, barely able to contain a smile.

The Next Day

John didn't realize that he'd fallen asleep in Randy's hospital room, head resting on the small strip of mattress just beside Randy's hip. He could feel the roughness of the fiberglass cast against his near-bald head, a constant reminder of the reason why Randy was immobilized upon the bed. Rough, calloused fingers were gently massaging his head, and when he looked up, Randy was smirking at him easily.

Taking his hand back, he used it to balance the whiteboard as he wrote: Did you rest well, sleepyhead? I thought that you'd never wake up.

John yawned, not entirely keen on the idea of sitting up just yet. But when his back began to protest loudly, he slowly began to rise. He stretched and popped his back, before looking at Randy dreamily. "How long have I been out?"

Randy wrote: I don't really know how long. I've enjoyed watching you, though.

"So you're secretly a voyeur now, huh?" John teased gently. He loved being like this with Randy - this was how they used to be, before the whole mess with the Authority ruined whatever it was that they had.

Randy wrote: You're much more entertaining than the three television stations we get here, love.

John couldn't help but smile at the term of affection, even if he wasn't completely sure that Randy knew the effect that it was having on him. Randy wasn't normally one to just throw around words like they meant nothing, and he used terms of endearment as infrequently as was expected. He hoped that that meant what he thought it did - that Randy had really meant what he'd said the night before, that he still loved him.

Honestly, he'd never thought that he'd be in this position again, being this close to Randy and teasing him lovingly. Granted, he also never thought that they'd be reunited because Randy decided to end it all by stepping in front of a truck. He didn't think he'd ever be able to express how grateful he was that Randy was safe and healthy - well, as healthy as could be expected. The doctors had done a wonderful job of beginning to repair his body. It was up to John to help fix the rest.

John swallowed hard, unable to keep the fear he'd felt during those ten hours in the waiting room from creeping up on him again. "I hope that you know how much I love you, Randy. If I'd known what was going to happen a few short hours after I stopped by that night, I never would've -,"

Randy frowned, scribbling: Don't say that. What happened wasn't your fault.

"I pushed you too hard that night. I know that I did." His eyes locked with the fiberglass cast once more, briefly allowing himself to wonder if he'd ever be able to step into the squared-circle again. "But I just couldn't let you slip away. I didn't know if you had found someone else... I don't think I could bear it if you did."

Randy answered with: There was never anyone else. Plenty of people tried, but...

John's eyes widened, realizing that Randy had felt exactly the same way that he did about what had happened. "But you realized that nobody could fill the void."

Randy wrote: Nobody could replace you. I always knew that, deep down. So I never even tried.

Those words were so touching, and so distinctly not like Randy, that they made John pause. Before all of this happened, he'd never really given much thought to the idea that Randy was hurting just as badly as he was. After all, Randy was the one that had cut things off between them, not the other way around. But Randy was just as devastated by the break-up as John, if not more. He still loved John with every fiber of his being. Which only left one question unanswered.

John gently took hold of Randy's wrist, soothingly massaging his pulse point. "If it hurt you so badly to leave me... why'd you do it?"

At first, it didn't seem like Randy was going to answer. John could see the war raging in his eyes, almost as if he was more afraid of the consequences of confessing the truth to John than what would happen if he remained silent. After everything they'd been through, Randy really didn't think that John would walk out on him like this. Not now. But he also knew that, by not telling him, there would always be a major lack of trust between them. The question would linger like the elephant in the room.

So Randy did the only thing he really could. He wrote two words: The Authority.

Seth blinked in surprise, having just woken to find arms still securely bundled around him. "You stayed..." he didn't even realize that he'd said it aloud, until he heard the two men curled into bed with him begin to stir.

"Of course we stayed. There's nowhere else we'd rather be." Dean said, before letting out a low moan as his body unfurled from the rather uncomfortable position he'd spent the night in.

Really, it was any wonder that all three of them had fit in that tiny hospital bed at all. It must have been a rather comical sight to any outsider who happened by. But for Seth, who'd been so certain that Dean and Roman were going to abandon him in the middle of the night, it was a miracle. Looking back, he realized that he'd spent most of the night laying on Roman, who had claimed the majority of the bed as his own.

"Now, Seth..." Dean brushed Seth's wayward locks away from his face. He looked adorably disheveled, with hair sticking up in every imaginable direction. "We really need to talk about this contract. Can you tell me anything else about it?"

The idea of rehashing what had happened only seemed to make Seth get upset again. "I don't really know much about it. Honestly..." here, he looked to be almost embarrassed. "I didn't really read it."

Dean frowned, "Baby, you should know better than to go signing things that you haven't read."

"He caught me at a particularly bad time. And he had enough emotional ammo to make me vulnerable." Seth confessed weakly. "He knew things... things that I thought nobody, aside from the three of us, knew. And he hit where it hurt. Hard."

"Baby..." Dean trailed off, finding himself at a loss for words.

"We were all hurting and broken. I thought that, maybe, if you two had each other, you'd have the opportunity to heal. Because the three of us, no matter how much we love each other... we're all broken, and in that brokenness, we only seem to hurt each other more while trying to heal." Seth mumbled softly.

While it was unfortunate, Dean knew that it was true. They'd all been hurt in this messy ordeal, and just when it seemed that they'd finally be able to heal, something always went wrong. Whether it was their own fault, a misunderstanding, or the result of outside forces, they simply couldn't seem to get their act together. But regardless of whether or not it was true, it wasn't fair that Seth felt like he had to remove himself from the equation to make things better.

Roman slowly began to stir, tightening his grip around Seth's middle momentarily. Seth reached down, lovingly stroking Roman's strong arms. He knew which arm was the one that Roman had hurt, and he made sure to be especially gentle with it. When Roman finally released him so that he could sit up (almost falling off the bed in the process, not that anyone planned on mentioning it), he stretched his body out and slid back to prop himself up against the wall.

"I never meant for any of this to happen. I swear, I thought that I was doing the right thing. I only wanted to help." Seth said, almost choking on his sobs. "But it only made things worse, and I honestly... I honestly thought that you guys weren't going to come for me, and I was okay with that."

Roman ran his fingers through Seth's messy locks, fingers catching in the knots. "After everything we've been through, how could you doubt we'd come for you?"

Seth sighed. "I'd made my peace with what I'd done. I thought that I was doing the right thing, making things easier for everyone."

"Don't you ever say that again!" Dean exclaimed, firmly grasping Seth's face in his hands and staring into his wide chocolate eyes. "You are everything to us. No matter what happens, or how broken we are, we will come for you. And we will fix this."

"Ending everything wouldn't have made things any easier, Seth." Roman offered. "Yeah, we're a little broken. But do you fix a crack in a glass by shattering the whole thing? What good is a pile of shards? Killing yourself wouldn't have fixed the problem. The only way we can fix the problem... is to attack it together."

Dean picked up where Roman left off, saying, "Think of how great we were as a three man unit. We weren't perfect, but there's no such thing as perfect. But together, we were practically unstoppable. It's when other factors started trying to pull us apart that everything went to hell."

"We'll find the loop hole in that contract, Seth." Roman finished reassuringly. "And then we'll start counseling, which we should've done a long time ago. Because no matter how broken we are, there's always a way to fix it. Just keep the faith, and we'll take care of the rest."

Once they'd finally managed to get Seth to relax, Dean and Roman went down to the cafeteria for a quick bite to eat and some coffee. They certainly didn't expect to see John Cena already down there, nursing what looked to be a half-empty cup of coffee that had long gone cold. He looked up, and when he saw the other two men heading in his direction, he hurriedly waved them over. They brought their food and drinks and sat down on either side of him.

"What's up, John?" In a nearly abandoned cafeteria, they didn't have to worry too much about keeping up kayfabe. Besides, it wasn't like their characters interacted on-screen very often, anyhow.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to the two of you about something." He took a sip of his coffee, barely able to conceal a grimace. "Has Seth mentioned anything about a bizarre contract he signed with the Authority?"