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

Dean cocked his head to the side, "That was a little out of left-field, but... Yeah, actually, he did. But how would you know anything about it?"

John swallowed hard. "I'm assuming that you know about what happened to Randy?" Dean and Roman shared a look, before nodding. The sympathy was clear in their eyes. "We were talking - well, he was writing down his responses, he can't actually talk with the ventilator - but he said that he tried to kill himself because of the Authority."

Dean sighed, "And you know what happened to Seth, right?" Theirs was a small community - it didn't take long for news to get around, even when it wasn't necessarily for others to share. They'd been trying to keep the whole mess with Ryback on the down-low, but they knew that, sooner or later, the truth would come out.

John nodded, "I'm really sorry to hear about that, man. I heard that Seth got really messed up. You all did."

Roman said, "But it's not us that need the concern. Apparently, in a moment of weakness, Seth signed his life away in a contract with the Authority and thought the only way out would be to try and kill himself."

"We thought he was the only one, that he'd just been swindled by Hunter's fast-talking." Dean continued. "He never implied that there were others. The Authority doesn't exactly advertise their internal struggles, you know."

Dean was still irritated that Seth hadn't even bothered to read through this contract, but knew that he wasn't really mad at Seth. He couldn't be - not after everything that he'd been through. He knew that they'd never be whole again after what had happened, that there was no such thing as 'closure' after everything that they'd been through, but he could fix this mess that he'd gotten himself in with the Authority. That, at least, could be worth some consolation.

However, there wasn't much legal recourse for the situation that they found themselves in. He knew that the Authority wouldn't spare any expense to ensure that the contract that Seth signed was one-hundred percent legally sound. There wouldn't be any way that they could find a loophole big enough to exploit for leverage. Perhaps they could argue that he wasn't in the right frame of mind to make a legally binding position... but that was a long shot.

"Was Randy able to give you any information about the contract?" Roman asked, even though he doubted it. As he suspected, John shook his head. They knew better than to discuss it, knew the consequences of speaking out of line.

"He mentioned the Authority and then he clammed up." John said tightly. He hadn't pressed, knowing that he was still walking fine ice with Randy and not wanting to screw anything up. "Everything he wrote on that board just seemed so... helpless. Like there was nothing left for him. I know it has to be the Authority's fault."

Dean took a sip of his coffee, before supplying, "But he does have something left. He has you."

"I could say the same thing about you. Whether he realizes it or not, he has you." John said forcefully. And then, with a sigh, "I don't think Randy realizes that he still has me. That after everything that has happened, I'm not going to leave him again."

Dean nodded. "We know what you mean. Seth woke up this morning and asked why we were still there. It was heartbreaking and infuriating at the same time."

Roman sighed, "We want him to know that we're there for him and that we want to rebuild our broken relationship. Clearly, he doesn't get it either."

Silence fell over them, but it was not uncomfortable. Dean finished his coffee and left to get a refill, leaving John and Roman together. While they'd never gotten along, it seemed like this was bringing them closer together. It was the common denominator. It was just a shame that this had to be the thing that brought them together.

"If only there was a way for us to get a hand on that contract... If we could see the exact language, we might be able to find a way to reverse what's been done."

Roman nodded. "Unfortunately, Seth is sort of turned-off of lawyers with everything that's gone down. That is really the one way I can think of to get an actual physical copy of the contract."

John was silent for a moment, before saying, "I think that there might be another way."

It was no secret that Seth Rollins wasn't the first choice to join the Authority - the one that they'd really wanted was Roman. But there were many drawbacks, most notably the fact that Roman was fiercely loyal to the other members of the Shield. He'd never think of betraying his brethren in that way. But maybe there was a way to exploit the fact that he'd been the one that Hunter wanted all along.

Roman could infiltrate the Authority during the time that Seth was recovering, and Hunter would most likely be totally open to the idea. It would help the Authority to have that consistency, especially since they were prepping Seth to become the new 'face' of the WWE. With both Randy and Seth out of commission, they would need someone with the ability to step right into that position. Roman was in the perfect position to be the person the Authority needed.

It was a plan just crazy enough to work.

Seth's wrist was throbbing at his side. They'd taken off the cast after yet another x-ray, and the brace didn't seem as if it was offering enough support. The nurse hadn't wanted him to look at his wrist, saying that a little discoloring was completely normal. But he'd seen the damage out of the corner of his eye - it wasn't just a little discolored. It was swollen close to twice its normal size and bruised three different colors.

But according to his doctors, it was getting better. He should be starting PT any day now. He could barely move it without grabbing for his morphine pump, but he was totally okay to do PT. He rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Rollins," the nurse knocked on the door, before letting himself in. "I have your nightly meds, love."

"You mean my happy pills?" She nodded, smirking a little at his choice of words. "I guess now is as good a time to start them as any." After Dean and Roman found out about how he'd been skipping out on his meds, he'd been forced to come clean to the doctors as well.

The nurse handed him a small cup, before taking a pitcher of room-temperature water and filling the small Dixie cup on his bedside table. "They'll make you feel better." She handed him the cup, before tapping his chin, "Open up now, love. I need to check that you swallowed."

Seth raised an eyebrow, "Don't you trust me?"

She shook her head, "Not at all."

He opened his mouth, proudly displaying the empty cavern and allowing her to scrutinize him. She nodded, satisfied, so he moved to close his mouth - when she motioned for him to lift his tongue. So she was familiar with all the tricks, then. He wasn't sure if she was more worried about him skipping out on his medication, or hoarding it for later and attempting suicide again. Neither sat well with him. He felt like a kid being chastised by a parent, and he lifted his tongue without a word.

"Good." She smiled, clearly pleased. She was probably about two seconds away from patting him on the head, but thought better of it. "Now, I'm gonna change these bandages. Once your wounds are cleaned and re-wrapped, you can go to sleep. Sound like a deal?"

She didn't expressly tell him not to watch as she changed the bandages, and he probably wouldn't have listened if she had. Latex gloves danced over his arm, tugging at the tape and ripping it off, unwrapping the gauze and tossing it into the hazardous waste bin nearby. His arm looked nasty, but it'd only been two days. He'd really done a number on himself this time, he knew that it was going to scar.

Gently, she rinsed out the wounds with hot water, before rubbing a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic over the slightly-bleeding wounds. It stung badly, but it was fighting for dominance with the burning, throbbing sensation in his wrist. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes and finally looking away. She wrapped him up quickly and gently placed his arm down at his side, before disposing of her gloves.

"It won't scar too badly, so long as nothing aggravates the wounds." She assured, as if reading his mind. "Considering the state of your other wrist, I don't think that should be an issue. Just be careful, okay? You should love yourself, as there are a lot of people that love you."

There was a loud, long beep coming from the heart monitor in Randy's hospital room.

"Clear!" Randy's body jolted off of the bed, electricity coursing through him and attempting to restart his heart. After several seconds of false hope, he began to flatline once again.

During a series of routine post-op tests, they'd discovered that Randy had had a heart attack while recovering. It had happened the night of the operation - and while it wouldn't ordinarily have been anything to cause monumental concern, he'd had another massive one shortly after John had gone down to the cafeteria. They'd rushed in with the crash cart and had been trying to stabilize him for the last ten minutes. The head doctor was about to call it when -

"Clear!" And suddenly he was back, his heartbeat considerably lower than what they would have liked, but stabilizing nonetheless.

And then his body began to convulse in bed, eyes rolling back as he slipped into the throes of a seizure. He began to cough around the tube that was down his throat, choking on the ventilator. The nurse immediately moved to secure his head, while another gently began to massage his neck and throat muscles, willing them to relax. After three minutes, he settled back on the bed, visibly drained and coughing around the intruding tube in his throat.

"It's okay. You're okay." The woman whispered, trying to calm the terrified man. "There were a few close calls back there. You gave us a real good scare. But you're back and you're okay. And the doctor is gonna give you some medicine to make you feel better."

"We're going to administer a blood thinner as a means of trying to circumvent another heart attack." The doctor looked at his file, "Also, your blood test revealed that you were severely dehydrated, so after that treatment we'll put you on an IV drip with fluids. If you stay stable for forty-eight hours, we'll be able to operate again."

Randy, barely able to move after everything he'd just endured, made an attempt to reach for the whiteboard and pen that had been stowed away on his bedside table, far out of reach. When the nurse saw what he was attempting to grab, she handed it over immediately.

Randy wrote, If? and circled it several times.

The doctor nodded, "I won't lie to you, Mr. Orton. You were dead for almost ten minutes. If you flatline again, there's no guarantee we'll be able to save you." And then, softer, "The damage that has been done to your body is extensive. One more massive heart attack might just be enough to kill you."

Randy wrote, I'm not going to die, not now that I have someone to live for.

The doctor smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Sometimes, wishful thinking was all the patient had at this point. He wouldn't take it away from him.