Knockin' On Heaven's Door
Title: Knockin' On Heaven's Door
Rating: M for language
Summary: "John had a mild heart attack but a heart attack none the less and that's not something we like to take lightly. He'll need to stay in the hospital a little longer than scheduled."
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no harm is meant. Seriously people, this is FICTION.
Beta: None, all mistakes are mine.
1. Bittersweet Hero
2. Accidentally Damaged?
3. Tres
A/N: Alright so several days passed when I had planned to update it, here is chapter 4. I've also come to realize that I'm wrong when it comes to the brother's ages and that Steven may actually the oldest Cena brother and not Dan. Since I don't know for sure and can't really change the story, for the sake of Bittersweet, Dan and Steven are going to trade ages, kay!
LOL, just read!
Changing tactics, Dr. Leo switched his grip to John's right leg. "Alright John, on the count of three I want you to try and lift your right leg. Slowly but don't lean back on your hands, just use the muscles that you can feel." He waited until the younger man nodded before moving his hand down to where he was just holding John's leg up by his foot. "One...two..."
John drew in a deep breath, bracing himself for the worst. He had to lift his hands away from the bed to stop himself from leaning back or pushing up with them.
"Three..."
If Randy wasn't there watching it for himself, he wouldn't have believed it.
"John...John..."
It wasn't anything spectacular, not like he lifted his leg up a couple feet or so but it was enough. John had enough strength to lift his right leg so that his thigh hovered above the bed by maybe an inch or two. Just enough so that John, Dr. Leo and Randy could all see the muscles above his knee contracting, working in tandem to complete the almost unthinkable task.
"Your fucking leg, John your le-"
"Shut the hell up, Orton" John's voice was strained under the pressure but his dimples were on display. He may have only been exerting muscle in his lower half but John could feel himself running out of breath, his chest tightening up as if he'd been running a marathon. He could also feel the beginnings of a headache coming on, his left eye starting to twitch just a little.
Dr. Leo had seen enough.
"Alright, John."
As a rush of breath left John's body and he slumped forward, Dr. Leo was there to make sure he didn't continue on forward and off the bed. Grinning as he looked up into the younger man's flushed face, his baby blues sparkling with pure, unadulterated joy, Dr. Leo was reminded of why he loved his job so much. Though he hadn't done anything but let the kid's body show off its amazing healing ability, the courage and determination that those few inches unleashed within the man was unbelievable.
"Joh-"
"Orton" The warning tone and glare John used on his friend had Dr. Leo chuckling. If the rest of this session turned out just as successful, he couldn't imagine the other guy living for very long.
When John continued to struggle to get air into his lungs, the happy moment from just a few minutes ago slowly disappeared.
"Mr. Cena,"
Dr. Leo glanced up at the monitors not liking the fact that the numbers were rising, slowly but rising none the less. "John, why don't you lay down for a minute or two." He struggled a little to get the bigger man onto his back but was grateful when Randy pushed him out of the way and man-handled John on back.
"Slow, deep, even breaths, Mr. Cena"
He had hoped getting the kid horizontal would make things easier on him but it seemed if anything, the position only made breathing harder. His heart rate and blood pressure were starting to increase at a faster rate and Dr. Leo knew it wouldn't be long before that insufferable beeping noise started, putting the kid's life in danger. He needed to get the situation under control before all hell broke loose.
"Can't...che-...chest hurts..." John's face was completely red now, his words coming out in strangled gasps. "Can't...breathe...doc". Reaching out blindly, a small part of his brain registered a firm grip coming into contact with his hand but the rest of him was completely out of it. His chest hurt like a mother fucker plus the light was causing him to feel nauseous.
For the second time that afternoon, Randy stared in disbelieve. Holding on to John's hand with both of his for dear life, he turned terrified eyes to the doctor, shouting. "What the hell is going on, what the fuck is wrong with him?"
Ignoring the younger man in favor of grabbing the oxygen mask, Dr. Leo tried to supply John with the oxygen his body so desperately needed. Calling on all his medical knowledge, he tried to think of any reason why this would have happened. Yes, John hadn't been active these past two days and his body had just gone through a traumatic event putting itself under dire amounts of stress but he was a healthy young man. Exercising and staying in shape were a major part of his life, had to be in order for him to do his job without adding unnecessary risks every time he stepped into the ring. This just didn't make sense.
"Nothings changing." The panic he could hear in Randy's voice was undoubtedly what he currently felt trying to creep its way into his conscious. "It's not helping, why isn't it helping?"
He honestly didn't know why it wasn't helping, it wasn't like John's throat had closed in on itself. The oxygen was going through his airway, it just wasn't making it to his lungs, or maybe...
*beep*beep*beep*beep*beeeeeeeeeeeeep*
"Shit. Randy, I need you to move...Randy,"
Dr. Leo quickly snapped his mouth shut, almost biting the tip of his tongue off at the expression written across the younger man's face when he turned to look at him. Fear, shock, helplessness, all those he had expected to see, it was what was hidden underneath all those that made him want to turn tail and run. Pride, medical license and reputation be damned.
He had just stepped into the spot Randy had moved out of when the door was slammed open by Dr. Morgan followed by three nurses.
"What the hell happened in here" Demanded Dr. Morgan as he reached the bed just as Dr. Leo ripped open John's shirt.
Shaking his head, Dr. Leo moved out of the way of the nurse because though he was required to be first-aid/CPR certified, with the dark shadow watching over their shoulders, it was probably best to let those who did this on a daily basis take over.
"Don't know. He'd raised his right leg a couple of inches but then couldn't control his breathing." He explained as he watched Nurse Ethel ready the defibrillator so they could try and shock John's heart into beating again since the manual CPR the other two nurses were performing was having no effect. "I laid him down and administered oxygen but it didn't help, his heart rate just continued to rise."
Nodding, Dr. Morgan turned to take the pads from nurse Ethel so he could place them on John's chest but stopped short when he finally noticed a familiar tattooed gentleman standing off in the corner of the room, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest. He tried unsuccessfully to block the unpleasant memory he'd come to associate with the man, absently shuddering.
"Dr. Leonardo, how about you take Randy on out to the waiting room, there's no real reason for him to be in here anymore." Nor do I want him in here, Dr. Morgan finished in his head, sparring the kid one last glance before he turned his attention back to the task at hand.
Dr. Leo paled a little at the request but nodded his head none the less, not trusting his voice as he swallowed several protests. He turned around to face the man in question, bracing himself for the worse just in case Randy decided he wanted to stay. "Randy, son. Why don't you come with me so we can give these guys enough room to perform their jobs."
It was a weak excuse considering to room was plenty big enough to hold an entire high school football team without disturbing Dr. Morgan and crew but it was all he could think off to say.
At first it seemed as if Randy was going to just ignore him when he made no move and said nothing, but then just as Dr. Leo turned back to Dr. Morgan for support, Randy let his arms drop to his side and took several steps toward the door.
He hoped this was a dream, hoped that he was soon going to wake up slumped over in that uncomfortable chair, listening to his lover calling the cows home with his snores. There was only one problem with his wish...he didn't remember going to sleep.
Randy could already feel it happening, his heart numbing itself over. Threats would be of no use to him now so instead of wasting breath Randy walked out, head down, cold grey eyes burning with unwelcome tears as the voices of Dr. Morgan and his nurses fading in the background.
He was vaguely aware of a hand resting on his lower back guiding him in the wrong direction if he was supposed to be going to the waiting room. He just didn't have it in him to protest, though. Maybe if he was lucky, they would drug him into a deep sleep. That would sure as hell be nice.
Randy was just so damn tired of all this emotional roller coaster shit. He could remember the damage depression could do to a person and didn't want to fall back within it's grip but...One minute John was okay and the next he was fucking flat-lining. Randy didn't see too many other options plus now he had to make a phone call.
"Wait...wait a minute"
If he hadn't been so consumed with his thoughts, Randy might have realized he had come to a stop and was actually sitting down in a chair but not one of those plastic uncomfortable one's that seemed to be a staple for each and every hospital waiting room. This room was clearly an office, with bookshelves lining every wall and desk off in the right corner. It also had the one quirky detail that set it apart from other offices, this doctor happened to be a huge fan of Garfield. The were pillows with the cat's face on it resting on the two couches and he probably wouldn't be wrong in assuming the pillow behind his back also held the cat's mug shot, plus all the other trinkets like a clock, paper weight and coffee mug even.
"I kind of figured you might want to be alone."
Dr. Leo had a love of Garfield.
Randy glanced over towards the door, staring blankly at a sheepish looking Dr. Morgan. He could feel the older man's nerves vibrating off him in waves, like he was waiting for approval or something. Randy was aware that he should say something so as not to appear rude, cause I mean the guy was giving up his office to a man who'd been a complete jackass to him but couldn't, his throat felt as dry as a desert.
When he didn't respond, Dr. Leo rushed to finish.
"Your welcome to stay in here as long as you want. I've got appointments until late tonight, so there's no rush. This office is just a floor below John's, room 721, in case your wondering." He added before turning around and closing the door behind himself, off to try and make another miracle happen. Sans another heart stopping after the fact, hopefully.
Garfield's big hand was just shy of confirming it 4 o'clock as Randy took one last look around before letting go of a heavy sigh and scrubbing his hands down over his face.
Dreading his next move, Randy pulled out his cell phone scanning his contacts for Sean, John's baby brother.
Cena's Viper
"Mr. Cena"
It should have been comical, calling for a Mr. Cena in a room full of them though one was out cold but Randy couldn't really find any humor in the situation.
Everyone was gathered around the head of John's bed, the man in question unaware of the big commotion that was happening because of him.
"So, Dr. Morgan, what...what happen?" John Sr. sounded dog tired, like he himself would collapse at any minute, but Randy knew better.
Randy knew he had taken the easy way out calling Sean and no one was happy about it especially not John Sr. The man might have said something about Randy not having big enough balls to call himself a man.
"Believe it or not, you can all relax. John is going to be fine." Dr. Morgan used this visit to do another check-up on the younger man though he was sure Nurse Ethel had just been in here before the end of her shift. "He apparently had a thrombus building in the veins of his left leg that broke loose and traveled to his hea-"
"Wait a second...a what?" John Sr. cut him off looking rather confused.
"A blood clot, dad."
"Yes, thank you Steven." Dr. Morgan put down his chart after jotting down a couple of notes and took out his stethoscope. "A thrombus is just a blood clot but I don't mean to make this seem like it was no big deal, cause you all sure as hell know it was. We gave him some Heparin about an hour ago to break up the clot and he should be fine now." He completed his job without waking his patient but with a skill and accuracy that only came with years and years of experience.
Replacing one of John's fluid I.V. drips, Dr. Morgan wasn't at all surprised at Dan's question.
"There's more, isn't there? Your hesitating about something."
Dr. Morgan felt the shift in the room's mood as he nodded, noticed through body language how the Cena clan went on the defense. He bought himself some time by trashing the old I.V. bag and quickly washing his hands. As he walked back to the bed, he felt himself beginning to sweat under the intense scrutiny of four pairs of worrisome baby blues. Randy and Sean were the only one's not staring at him. Sean was watching Randy who was watching John.
He sighed heavily before explaining, "John's fine now," He felt he really needed to stress that point."But the clot caused some blockage in one of the valves of his heart, essentially giving him a myoca-, excuse me, a heart attack."
"Essentially?...What the fu-" John Sr. bit his tongue, counting to ten first, then backwards to try and control his temper. He chuckle was mirthless and Dr. Morgan didn't miss how Dan took a small step closer to his father, boxing the man between himself and John's monitors. "Dr. Morgan, I'm not really in the mood for bullshit as I'm sure you understand so cut said bullshit. Quit beating around the bush and quit using fancy word play. Say what the hell you mean to say, Okay?"
At the change in the older man's tone, everyone's eyes were on Dr. Morgan, including John's though none knew it.
He swallowed hard before speaking, his eyes fixed over in Randy's general direction for some reason. It was like he could tell that both their heads were on the line.
"John had a mild heart attack but a heart attack none the less and that's not something we like to take lightly. He'll need to stay in the hospital a little longer than scheduled."
"How mu-" John croaked, his throat raw from one of those blasted tubes they'd shoved down it again. Before anyone could react though, Randy brought a styrofoam cup with a red bendy straw to John's chapped lips allowing him to drink his fill. It was a quiet moment, the only sound being John swallowing while John Sr. held his breath.
When John let go of the straw, Randy set the cup back down then gripped the railing tightly. He was itching to touch but didn't exactly know how John's dad would react. God, he felt like he was in high school.
"Hey Johnny boy, how ya feeling?"
The lazy grin John graced his baby brother with dissolved the knot building in their father's chest. It was almost instant, John Sr. relaxed and so did everyone else in the room.
"I'm alright, Sean." He spoke slowly, obviously still tired. "My head hurts like a bitch though. Plus what's this I hear about you extending my time."
"John" His father's warning was ignored as John turned to face his doctor.
Dr. Morgan grinned himself, "Well, it's Thursday today, so how does Wednesday, possibly next Thursday at the latest sound." He knew he should go over and do a quick once over now that John was awake but he figured he'd let the family have a moment to themselves and come back later after everyone had had time to calm down.
John groaned and closed his eyes causing everyone to laugh and Dr. Morgan decided now would be a good time to make his getaway, quietly slipping out of the room unnoticed.
As the laughter died down, everyone remained quiet not knowing whether or not John would want to go back to sleep since it was almost ten. The steady beeping of the monitors doing nothing to stop Randy from fidgeting. John's dad would probably want to have another talk with him but all he really wanted to do was slip away for long enough to call the guys back at the hotel and let them know John was okay.
"So who pissed who off?" John opened his eyes to take in what he assumed would be guilty looks on everyone's face but almost chocked on his spit in the process.
No one was looking at his face.
Oh no, the fact that John had just bent his left leg under the bed sheet while talking was a much more interesting sight and really...John was so fucking happy to agree.
Cena's Viper
"Ready to go Johnny boy?" Ron asked as he, Evan and Hardy entered the all too familiar room. It was Friday, official one week and one day since John had been shot and he was finally being released from the hospital. His condition had improved enough to satisfy his doctors though he had several scheduled check-ups coming up these next couple of weeks.
"Yeah, yeah." John couldn't keep that stupid grin off his face, not today, really not since last Friday morning. "Just give me a moment to go get changed out of this gown." He coaxed his legs off to the left side of his bed, then used every ounce of upper body strength he had to stand up, leaning against the walker. He didn't have to look up at his three friends to know they were just as fucking thrilled as he was.
Apparently, though the blood clot had caused his heart attack and almost killed him, it also gave him a little bit of his freedom back. The one that broke off wasn't the only clot building in his veins but when the Heparin dissolved them, blood flow was then able to return flowing through pathways that had previously been blocked. I'm pretty sure it's donned on you by now the significance of this development.
John's movements was slow and somewhat uncontrolled, though. Hell, therapy was slow and dammit painful. By the end of each session he'd been ready to call it fucking quits and live out the rest of his life in a wheelchair but practice had truly yielded progress. It was after Monday's session, technically his fourth if you count the disaster that was the first, when he discovered he could stand on his own. Not for long though by any means. It was somewhere around ten seconds before his knees had buckled, Randy right there to catch him and help him sit back down on the bed. But it was something, right?
He couldn't lift his feet very high and by the time he'd reached the bathroom door, he was more shuffling his feet than actually walking. Closing the door behind him, John leaned heavily against the counter for a second to catch his breath. Once that was under control he gripped the back of the toilet seat and carefully maneuvered himself around to where he was sitting down, his legs, particularly his right, throbbing but not with pain. It was more of a prickling and tickling sensation.
Hissing as his bare-ass came into contact with the freezing toilet seat, John cursed the open-back gowns. He weakly changed into his trademark jean-shorts, his old bright orange "Never Give Up" shirt and black kicks. Already feeling worn out but determined as hell, John once again hauled himself up onto his feet. It took a moment for the nauseous feeling at the sudden elevation change to pass but once it was gone, John was all set.
"Ready, boys." He announced as he slowly, carefully made his way back into the room. If anyone noticed how his grin turned into the full fledged 1000 watt, dimpled smile when his eyes picked up on the wheelchair, no one called him on it. Sweat had broken out on his brow and he could feel his right foot beginning to drag plus his arms weren't exactly suffering majority of his body weight in silence, either.
"Just standard hospital policy, Mr. Cena." The petite, red-haired nurse informed him with a genuine smile. If he wasn't completely crazy just yet, he thought he might have remembered her telling him her name was Torrin. "Once your outside the hospital, you can go back to being on your own too feet again."
"Uh huh."
John let himself fall back heavily into the chair, officially exhausted after the short walk from the bathroom. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks when his boys took over, Ron taking up Nurse Torrin's position pushing the chair while Evan moved his walker and bless his heart but Matt picked up his dead weight legs and place his shoes on the foot rests.
"Thanks guys." He was already half-way asleep, his tone heavy and lethargic.
"No problem, man. Let's just get you home." Ron whispered as he began to push the younger man out of his room followed by the other two and Nurse Torrin. John was dreaming about a certain tall, tattooed and grey eyed man before the elevator doors even closed.
Cena's Viper
Dan and Randy walked through the glass doors to the police station in silence.
Barely five minutes after Ron and the guys had left to retrieve John, Randy had gotten a call from a Detective Broadman asking him if they could meet up. It hadn't taken more than one glance at his face to know something was up and John Sr. was insisting that Dan accompany Randy. He didn't even argue.
Since it was only one in the afternoon, neither were surprised to find the station pretty calm with a few people seated in plastic chairs waiting for whatever news on their loved ones or themselves.
"Mr. Orton." The guys turned at the deep voice to watch a big burly brunette of a man make his way over to them. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, the jacket probably slung over the back of his chair leaving his holster exposed. Though he wasn't smiling, his facial expression wasn't exactly evil either, just a little hardened after all the years of dealing with senseless bullshit.
Randy stepped forward, nodding. "Yeah that's me and this is Dan, John's brother." He waited until the other two men had shaken hands before asking what the hell this was all about.
"Detective Broadman, what's this all about?"
"Well," The detective stepped to his left allowing Randy and Dan to notice the family that had followed him over to them standing just a few feet back. Randy felt like he'd been punched in the chest as he took in their appearance. The father was just another nameless face but the mother and little boy who looked to be around the age of 10 had him paling as he took a step back. If it wasn't for the fact that Dan grabbed his wrist right then he probably would have high-tailed it out of there so fucking fast.
"Randy...you okay?" Dan's voice sounded so far away but that was the least of Randy's worries right now. He really should get a handle on his breathing and stop his legs from swaying before they loaded him up for his own trip back to the hospital.
"Randy, this is the Julien's." Broadman continued as the family in question came to stand next to him. "Looks like you've already made the connection but there's something you don't know."
Randy tore his gaze away from the little boy.
Jesus, if it wasn't for height difference, he'd swear the two could have passed for fucking twins.
He looked back over into the detective's face, thinking already in overdrive, mind slowly putting the pieces of the puzzle together.
"Liam Carter Julien, their son and the same boy who shot John, died Sunday night."
A/N2: So, thoughts, opinions, suggestions? Anything and everything is welcome.