Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Kelly.
Rated: M
Warning(S): Slash, Threesome, Mpreg, Miscarriages(?), Self-Harm, etc.

Earlier

The door to the guest bedroom creaked open, harsh light from the hallway pouring into the dark chamber. A moan came from the bed - the figure shifted and pulled a pillow up over his head in an effort to shield himself from the light. Vince scowled. Who the hell was this? Another of Phil's many lovers? Overcome by a sudden wave of anger, he yanked the pillow from the young man's hands and whacked him over the head with it.

Dean practically jumped out of his skin, lashing out and whacking Vince's leg hard enough to bruise. "What the actual -,"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Vince growled.

"Why the hell did you hit me?" Dean countered sharply.

As if to answer, Vince hit him again. A solid swat to the side of the head that had the younger seeing stars. His cheek, which still ached horribly from where Roman had punched him just a few short days earlier, was throbbing horribly. With a groan, he rolled off of the other side of the bed and put the mattress between them. Vince stumbled forward, practically tripping over his own two feet in his effort to reach Dean.

"Man, you reek. How much did you drink?" Dean wrinkled his nose, "You need to lay down before you straight-up pass out."

"D-Dean?" He could hear Phil calling for him from down the hall. He sounded absolutely wrecked, his voice little more than a whine twisted by pain. "Dean, please..."

Dean scowled, "What the hell did you do?"

But Vince didn't plan on answering. Stumbling over, he slammed his fist into the wall beside Dean's head. "Don't even think about it."

In answer, Dean shoved him back and watched him topple onto the bed. "You're in no position to tell me what to do."

He hurried out of the room, charging down the hall and into the master bedroom. Phil was sprawled out on the bed, blood staining the inside of his thighs. He whined, his hand sprawled out over his swollen belly, his fingers twitching. There was a horrible bruise on Phil's abdomen in the shape of a kneecap. Dean cursed beneath his breath. Approaching the bed, he made to grab him, stopped, reached out again... God, what was he supposed to do?

It was abundantly clear that he'd need to be taken to the hospital - and even then, it was unlikely that they'd be able to save the baby. But God, if there was any chance that that little girl could be saved, he didn't want his actions - or even his inaction - to somehow risk her life. Eventually, however, his mind was made up for him. The door slammed open and Vince shuffled inside, growling. There was a gun in his hand.

"I told you to mind your own fucking business." Vince grumbled, waving the pistol wildly. "He's gonna stay right there - right where he belongs."

"He needs medical assistance." Dean raised his hands in a show of innocence, "He's going to lose the baby."

Vince shrugged, a nasty look on his face. "It's not my baby. It's not my problem. Let him bleed."

"You're a monster." They younger man began to slowly inch his way toward the bed.

"No." Vince shook his head, "I'm just a man that's damn tired of putting up with his bullshit." He noticed that Dean had placed himself between Phil and the gun. "I'm not afraid to shoot you both."

"Is that supposed to frighten me?"

"Do you have a death wish?"

"Maybe." A shrug, "Maybe not."

"Why do you care so much about him, anyhow?" Vince began, his voice biting. "He's not worth it, you know. He's a selfish son of a bitch that only cares about himself -,"

"Gee..." Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And here I was thinking that that was you."

Vince laughed brokenly, "You'd have to be insane to stand there and insult a man with a gun."

"Put the gun down, Vince."

Vince shook his head, "I'm afraid that I can't do that."

The crack of the bullet leaving the gun's chamber was enough to stir Phil to consciousness. He jumped, and the sudden movement caused a hot pulse of blood to coat his thighs. The bullet was lodged in the headboard about six inches from Phil's skull. Another shot rang out, and Dean let out a startled shout as the bullet pierced his shoulder. As soon as blood began to ooze from the wound, Vince panicked.

The distraction of Vince's little anxiety attack gave Dean ample time to break off one of the posts on the bed and, using it like a bat, whacked him upside the head and sent him sprawling. When he was sure that the bastard wouldn't be getting up again, he turned to Phil and began to knudge him, earning an aggravated, agonized groan for his efforts. With his good arm, he began to gently wheedle him out of bed.

"C'mon, we have to get you to the hospital - there's no time to waste." A pause, "But you've gotta help me out."

"You're bleeding." Phil slurred. He was having an awful time trying to stay on his feet.

"Yeah, I noticed that. I've got a bit of a newsflash for you, though - you're bleeding like way worse. Now, I can't carry you because of my shoulder, but I can shoulder some of your weight with my good arm -," as he said this, Phil dropped all his weight onto Dean's shoulder. "Okay, this isn't gonna work."

"The baby..." Phil smacked his dry lips together, blinking rapidly and looking around in absolute confusion. It was almost as if he'd forgotten where they were, what had happened. "Why can't I... I can't feel her anymore..."

Dean staggered a bit beneath Phil's weight, desperately searching for anything that he could use like a crutch. He came up empty. "Damn it, Phil! Use your legs!"

Phil's legs shook beneath the weight of his upper body, and there was so much blood on his pajama bottoms. "Can I... Can I tell you a secret, Dean-o?"

"If you start walking, you can do whatever the hell you want." Dean said, starting the slow shuffle toward the bedroom door. For every couple of steps he took, it seemed like Phil only took one.

"I'm scared." Phil whispered, before his legs went out from under him one final time and he collapsed in a heap at Dean's feet.

"Shit!"

Seth had chosen to meet in a cafe, thinking that a public venue would perhaps ease his nerves about his impending meeting with Roman. It wasn't that he was concerned that Roman would try anything, but... With a trembling hand, he brought the cup of coffee to his lips and took a long sip. So much had been said over the last few days that could not be unsaid, had been done that could not be undone. He was fearful of making any more mistakes.

He knew that he wasn't ready to see Dean. The wounds there were still particularly fresh, but not for the reasons that one might think. Seth understood Dean on a much deeper level than one would initially suspect - that special kind of pain that came along with infertility, the feelings of inadequacy, of hopelessness...

He could still remember how it felt to get in that elevator with Roman, to see that woman struggling to manage three grumpy children... He had wished so badly that he could be in her shoes, with so many babies he didn't know what to do with himself. Little beauties that were a perfect mixture of his and his loved one's DNA. He felt just as lost as Dean, just as broken. Seth didn't think he could handle being reminded of that right now.

When Roman entered the cafe, dressed in a plain black and gray striped hoodie and loose black slacks, Seth was suddenly overcome with a rush of love for this man. This perfect, beautiful man, who for some reason still loved him enough to want to try and fix their mess of a relationship. "Ro..."

"Hope that I haven't kept you waiting long. Traffic in this city is a bitch." The big dog grumbled, before calling the waitress over and ordering himself a coffee.

"It's no problem." Seth was quick to assure. "I've just been thinking, that's all."

Roman raised an eyebrow, "For you, that seems to be a particularly dangerous pastime. Care to share with the class?"

Seth shrugged, "About the lady in the elevator, with all the kids. How badly I wanted to be her." He paused for a moment, considering, "I've been thinking about a lot, recently. About our fight at the hospital, and what was said. And I realized that nobody ever asked you if you were okay."

Roman's hazel eyes widened, and he was quick to attempt to redirect the conversation away from him. "You don't have to worry about me. I didn't message you so we could sit around and rehash old wounds." His coffee arrived, and he thanked the girl with a small smile. "I want to know how you're feeling."

The two-toned man chuckled blandly, "Y'know, I kinda figured that you would attempt to deflect the question back onto me."

"It's nice that you're worried, but I assure you that I'm fine." Roman reiterated, his tone a tad clipped.

"You hit Dean, didn't you." It wasn't a question.

He probably should've been terrified, knowing that Roman had hit Dean hard enough to make the Lunatic Fringe cow in his presence. Seth wasn't stupid. He'd seen the marks on Dean's cheek when he'd shown up at the hospital, and he could put two and two together. Hell, it was likely that the only reason they were having this meeting now was because Dean had stowed himself away somewhere where Roman couldn't get to him.

Abuse tended to occur in patterns. Very rarely was it a one-off situation. The odds of it happening again were higher than Seth liked to admit, even if Roman was absolutely horrified over what he'd done and completely repentent. And with the way Seth was known to run off at the mouth, he was likely to be the next target. He should get up, pay for his coffee, and leave. Leave the Shield and this whole mess behind him. Nobody would think less of him for it.

And then the unthinkable happened. Roman's face seemed to collapse in upon itself, and the big man started to cry.

Seth had never seen Roman cry before. Hell, he didn't think anyone had ever seen Roman cry before. But there he was, the muscle of the Shield, having a freaking breakdown in the middle of some nameless cafe located in the middle of scenic nowhere. Seth's brown eyes widened to almost comic proportions, and he found himself awkwardly tossing tissues in the big man's direction. Who the hell would've thought he'd have such a negative reaction -

"Yeah, I hit him." Or come right out and admit to what'd happened. "I ain't proud of it, but it happened. You have to understand, I was just so mad. He was just so depressed and had drunken himself into some sick stupor and passed out on the bed. He'd completely abandoned you when you needed him."

"Where is Dean now?" Seth found himself asking. He doubted if Roman knew, but...

"He's with Phil Brooks, over at the McMahon Mansion. Phil thinks its best if I don't see him for awhile and I... I agree." Roman admitted reluctantly.

"Ro..." the affectionate nickname seemed to fall on deaf ears, "You've been under a lot of stress. I mean, I know that nothing can be said or done to justify taking your hand to Dean, but... They were your babies, too. And nobody ever asked if you were okay."

Roman swallowed hard, "I don't need to be babied."

Seth raised a dark eyebrow, "Is that what you think you do to Dean and I? Baby us?"

Roman shook his head, "You're... comfortable... with your emotions. I... this... I just feel gross and exposed, talking so openly and sobbing like an infant."

"Maybe that just means you need more practice."

They talked for a short while longer about everything and nothing. Seth was careful to make sure that he steered the conversation away from anything having to do with Dean, not wanting Roman to have another near meltdown. They also avoided discussing the possibility of trying again to have another baby. Seth was still recovering, both emotionally and physically, and it was clear that Roman had so many other things to worry about.

Once they'd both finished their coffee, Seth took a deep breath and steeled his nerves before asking, "Would you like to come back to the hotel with me? There's something that I want to show you. Something I should've showed you a long time ago."

Roman, able to sense exactly what it was that Seth was referring to, agreed almost immediately. This trip was long overdue. "Let's do it."

Jeff was more than a little concerned when the onslaught of messages from Phil came to a sudden and complete stop. Usually, if the other man had just fallen asleep, every few hours his insomnia would kick him in the ass and he'd send him a text to let him know he was awake and willing to chat till he drifted off again. And Jeff, who was kept awake by the pain in his neck and back for most of the night, was in contact with his lover pretty much twenty-four seven.

When his texts went unanswered for several hours, he'd taken to attempting to call Phil's phone. Each time, the call would go directly to voicemail. At this point, on the brink of desperation, he'd called the landline. He'd only attempted this once, and it continued to ring until eventually clicking over to voicemail as well. He was afraid to try again, worried that Vince might accidentally pick up the phone and all hell would break loose. Finally, he shot a message to Dean.

Is Phil okay? Can't get hold of him on phone - J

A short thirty seconds later, the reply came through.

Come to the hospital. Phil hurt badly - D