As The Coin Flips
For whatever macabre reason, the Russian had propped Sheamus’ corpse up in the chair opposite his desk, facing the chair out so that it was the first thing to be seen by anyone walking in. The shot that had killed the man had caught him in the throat and the gory hole dead-centre was still leaking slightly, although most of the blood had clogged. Above the wound, Sheamus’ face was surprised and still seemingly furious about the nature of his demise. His eyes had started to fog over but his mouth hung open, showing his teeth in what was almost a snarl; the manner in which he had been dumped into the seat meaning he looked on the verge of sliding from it, head against the back in a way that would have been unattainable had he been alive and sitting to attention. In death, he looked smaller but no less deadly and it was making Randy uncomfortable.
“Boys.” Vladimir was behind his desk and for a moment Randy wondered how he could bear to be alone in a room with the corpse of his enemy, although he knew better than to ask. And he thought he might even understand, if not empathise; the dead man had killed the Russian’s lover and this was his time to gloat. Sheamus might have struck at both of their families hard, but it was the Russian who’d had the last word.
“Vladimir,” said Cody in an almost friendly tone. Randy noticed that the corpse had very little effect on his lover, he merely gave it a long, interested look and then his attention was back on the living. “Where did you find Sheamus hiding? Last we saw him, he was fleeing one of his own houses. I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to try to hide at another one.”
“He wasn’t.” Vladimir gave a rather grim smile, pouring himself another glass of the vodka he was drinking and then seeming to remember his manners, turning to the cupboard behind him and getting out another two glasses. He poured them a drink from the same bottle he was drinking from, pushing both glasses to them. “Drink up. This is real vodka, none of the crap you find at the speakeasies. It will put hairs on your chest young Cody.”
It would have been rude to refuse and there could be nothing wrong with the drink since Vladimir was drinking it too; both Cody and Randy knocked them back in one, Cody grimacing and trying not to gag. “Hair on my chest? In the morning, I’ll have hair on my tongue!”
Vladimir laughed uproariously at the comment, although Cody thought that there was some sadness there too. “It is strong, not for everyone. And I understand you have had a very long night.” He reclaimed his seat, although Randy and Cody stayed standing - there was only one chair left and neither wanted to be parked next to Sheamus. “No, he did not go to his safehouse. Justin had already returned when he came here. He has been hiding, but I do not know where. He came to me in anger, forgetting that I too have a good reason to want him dead.” He shrugged, pouring himself another drink. “He was soundly defeated at your hands. I imagine he wished some kind of alliance against you. I did not wait for him to tell me his reason, I merely took advantage of his presence. My men have always known that should he arrive here, he is to be led straight to me and let us say, I know of who is at my door without leaving my chair. His end was more merciful than he deserved and he came looking for it.”
He swilled the vodka around in the glass and abruptly put it on the table without drinking. “I hear also that you have had some casualties of your own?”
“An injury,” said Randy quickly. “We’re waiting to see if he’ll pull through.”
“Hmm.” Vladimir nodded, thinking. “For several years, our family has coincided along yours. There is money to be made, a lot of money but with neither one of us going for total control, we have been able to get along. More or less. We have had our skirmishes, yes? But nothing that could not be dealt with. And then along comes the Irishman and changes the rules. However, since he is no longer with us, I see no reason for us not to go back as we were. I am not a greedy man, I get along perfectly well, as do those who work with me. I am not unreasonable and I am not stupid either. As unsettled as things are, I do not think that we are helping ourselves by taking advantage of that. I imagine that even in this time Mr Cena’s business keep going, as does my own.”
Vladimir leant back. “So! I am suggesting that our truce continues much as it was before all this unpleasantness. Should things change of course, I will change with them - but I see no reason to start hostilities because one of the players has left the game. A gesture of goodwill, yes? There has been enough death and we have all been touched by it.”
Randy glanced over at Sheamus’ cooling corpse, then back at Vladimir, thinking of the devastation on Mike’s face as he tried to keep them from his dying lover. “That sounds good. I’ll relay your message back to John but I’m sure I speak for him when I accept.”
“Wonderful.” Vladimir reached for his drink. “You must excuse me, this is something of a celebration for me. I never thought that I would get the chance to take Sheamus to death with my own hand…” He paused a moment. “It is a fine day for me.”
“He’s dead,” said Cody bluntly. “It’s a fine day for us too.”
Vladimir nodded. “You wish to take his head back to John? That he may take it to his husband and prove that there is no more need for him to fear?”
Cody bit his lip to stop a bray of laughter from emerging as he imagined Ted’s reaction to that - and then remembered Ted’s actions of late and wondered if it would go down as badly as he thought. But John would never agree to take his beloved husband so grizzly a gift. “No. Our word will be good enough.”
“And our thanks,” added Randy.
Vladimir nodded. “Tomorrow Sheamus will be found, quite publicly and he will serve as warning to anyone else who wishes to involve themselves in our affairs. You still have some cleaning up to do I believe,” he added dryly. “Do not let me keep you. Tonight, our family celebrates. Tomorrow will be business as usual.”
And Santino will still be dead thought Cody, but wisely kept the thought to himself. Vladimir seemed happy, but grimly so. Probably he had already realised that there was no amount of revenge that would return his lover to him.
~:~
Evan’s words slammed into Punk with the force of a hammer. If one of the man’s associates had been killed, then it served as warning that it might well have been Evan himself in that position. He would never take pleasure in a man’s suffering, but he couldn’t help but be relieved it had been someone else. The relief made him feel like a terrible person but he didn’t much care about how bad he was. He cared only for Evan’s safety.
“Is he gonna make it?” he asked.
Evan gave a shaky sigh and Punk thought he could hear tears in it. That was almost more frightening than knowing what Evan had been involved in of late, somehow it made it all the more real. “I don’t know.”
“What hospital’s he at?”
“He’s not. I’ll bet all the hospital’s are being covered by the cops, right?”
“You’d be right,” said Punk, even though he knew he should not be giving this information. Sharing police secrets with a man he knew damned well was involved in the bootlegging racket - had it been someone else, he would have sacked them and had them up on charges to boot. But he was doing it nevertheless. He supposed it said a lot about where his loyalties lay; not with money and status as with so many other cops who did what he was doing right then, but with Evan himself.
“We’re dealing with it ourselves.” Evan stopped, but he didn’t hang up the phone and Punk took that as a good sign. To hell with the job; for the most part he had spent the last few days in a state of low-grade terror for Evan’s well being. He didn’t want the other to hang up without giving him a few answers.
“Off the record Ev?” He leant against the wall, twisting the cord of the phone around in his fingers. “What happened out there tonight? And don’t play dumb with me. I’m not using it against you, I’ll conveniently forget that I ever spoke to you about this as soon as we finish talking. I just need to know.”
There was a long pause and Punk thought for a while that Evan wasn’t going to answer him. Then he heard a sigh. “Why do you want to know Phil?”
“I need to know because I need to know what you’re getting into,” said Punk without even thinking about his response. “I need to know what the worst might be instead of just imagining it. And I need to know that you’re okay, really okay and not just saying you are because I can’t see you right now.”
“And not because you want to go around making a few arrests?”
“It’s off the record Ev,” Punk reminded him. “And right now, the job’s the least important part of this. You’ve no idea - how I’ve been chasing around trying to deal with all this before you got really hurt…” He trailed off. Evan probably didn’t need to know how he’d been feeling the last few days.
Evan didn’t say anything and Punk could see what he must look like, brow furrowed, probably tired out, considering what he’d said. He wanted to cajole the man but that would never work. Either Evan would tell him or he wouldn’t.
“The Irishman’s dead.”
Punk almost dropped the phone. “What?!”
“We had nothing to do with him dying,” said Evan, voice almost flat as if he didn’t expect to be believed and oddly enough, that only made Punk decide he was telling the truth. “But yeah, that mess out there? Sheamus hurt a lot of people and we were next on his list. Something had to be done before that happened.”
No actual confession Punk noticed, but enough said so that he was in no doubt that Evan had been involved. He kept his silence, allowing Evan to continue. “It’s over with, the shootings and everything. It’s done. I guess you can call that unsolved - unless you’re going to suddenly go back on the record.”
“No.” Punk closed his eyes and sighed. He could use this in so many ways, even if he had it as a starting-point to start trailing Cena. But he had promised. And anything he did to chase Cena would only end up coming back on Evan, the one person he really wanted to protect in the whole mess. “It’s strictly between you and me, I’ll make like I haven’t heard a thing. Your secrets safe for the moment - but that doesn’t mean it’s the end. McMahon’s on it and he’s pissed.”
“Has he got any witnesses?”
“Are you using me for information?”
Evan’s sigh was deeply weary. “It would help me to know. But I don’t wanna put you in a bad spot. Forget I asked.”
“No one’s talking. The neighbours all say they took cover when the shooting began and didn’t look outside until it was over.”
There was another moment of silence; Evan surprised that Punk had volunteered the information and Punk just as surprised that it had come out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say anything but he wasn’t exactly sorry that he had. It wasn’t like it would matter in the end.
“I need to go,” said Evan eventually. “I need to check on uh, my friend. There’s a doctor seeing to him but I - I don’t know. It doesn’t look good at all. He hasn’t moved since…”
“Okay.” Punk stared unseeingly at the wall a moment, gathering his courage. “Come by my place.”
“Phil-“
“I know. We won’t talk about this, if you don’t want. Hell, we don’t have to talk at all. I just want to see with my own eyes that you’re in one piece. I’ll finish up here and go back and - y’know, wait. And once you’re done there, maybe you can just see me.”
“Maybe.” Evan’s voice was soft and undecided. “I don’t know how long I’ll be and I don’t know if it’s a good idea. But maybe.” He chewed on his lip a moment, wondering. It was a terrible idea but it had been a terrible night and the one person he wanted to speak to was Phil. The one person he wanted to lean on and forget everything for awhile was him.
“I’ve only got one last thing to sort out-“Punk hesitated and then asked anyway. “You know a guy called Mason Ryan?”
“He was there,” said Evan immediately. “He’s one of the Irishman’s guys and - it was him who broke into my house.”
Punk growled. “Then he might have a little accident while he’s in custody.”
“Wait, you’ve got him in jail?” Evan’s voice was disbelieving. “What about Drew?”
“The long haired guy? He went home.” Punk switched the ear he was holding the phone to. “But I’ve got nothing to hold him on. Either of them on.”
“You know he was at the house,” said Evan.
“Yeah. And do you think he’ll hesitate to give you up to save his own ass?”
Evan was quiet and Punk frowned, wishing he didn’t have to drive his point home. “And how the hell do I know that he was there without having talked to you? But I’ll see what I can do. I’ll see you later?”
“Maybe.” Evan put the phone down, knowing what John would say - it was too dangerous, too likely to compromise them. But it was all very well for John to say; the love of his life was waiting at home for him. He couldn’t say for sure that Phil was the love of his life but he knew damn well that there was no one else he’d rather be with right then. And it was like John himself as well; he couldn’t help who he fell for.
No one had been paying attention to the conversation; they were all too involved in listening to what the doctor had to say. Mike looked on the verge of collapse and Evan tuned back into the conversation. Alex hadn’t moved, hadn’t woken up but he didn’t seem to have gotten worse either and Evan didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. That John looked ready to blow his stack at the fact the doctor didn’t seem to be promising though.
Mark raised both hands and Evan noticed, rather squeamishly, that they were splattered with blood. “I don’t have the tools to take the bullet out here. I could have cut him open and taken it out, then sewn him back up - that’s what I would have preferred! But he’s lost a lot of blood and if I did that, here, he’d die.”
Mike let out a little moan.
“And I’m not promising he’ll live either. But he’s stable, he’s sewn up and he’s not bleeding any more. He’s got a chance. He’ll need a lot of care, he shouldn’t be moved right now, but-“He gave a wry half-smile. “He’s a fighter. When I got here, I wouldn’t have given him a snowball’s chance in Hell. That he’s made it this far means I’m a lot more confident he’ll go further.”
“Thank you.” John looked over at Alex. “Can we at least move him from the couch?”
“To the bed. He’ll have to stay here John, so I hope you don’t mind the company.”
“I’ll probably be staying at my mother-in-law’s house awhile anyway.” John looked over at Mike. “I’ll move him into the master bedroom.”
Mike looked bemused but John took no notice, merely picking Alex up with as much care as he could and trying not to disturb his stitches. Evan went ahead of him, preparing to pull aside the covers or whatever else he might need. Mike made as if to follow and Mark reached out to put a hand on his wrist and stop him. “You need to listen to this,” he said sternly. “That wound needs to be kept sterile. The biggest danger for him right now is getting an infection there, as weak as he is there’s no way he’ll survive. You’ll have to clean it frequently. You’ll probably have to feed him for a while. Liquids, soup, that kind of thing. No solids for at least a week. The bullet didn’t hit his intestinal track but we don’t wanna put unnecessary strain on him. I’ll be back at least once a day to check on him, let you know anything else… hydrated. You need to make him drink a lot. And uh, he won’t be able to get up and use the bathroom. He’s not even to try. You’ll have to look after him every hour of the day.”
“I can manage that,” said Mike determinedly as John emerged from the bedroom, Alex deposited on the bed.
“Well, not like that you can’t.” Mark glanced over his bloodstained, dirty clothes. “You’re a health hazard. You need to wash up before you go near him.”
“Will do.” Mike glanced at John, suddenly very aware of where they were. “Is that…”
“Go use the bathroom.” John gave a smile. “And I’ll find you something to wear. Call this place your home for the foreseeable future, okay?”
Mike nodded. “Thanks John - for everything. And thank you.” He looked at Mark, naked gratitude in his eyes. “I need to get to Alex, excuse me.” He vanished into the bathroom and John let out a long breath. It was proving to be a long night and it wasn’t over yet. He really wanted to call Ted, knowing that his husband must be going out of his mind but if he did that, he would have to come up with a reason to be calling in the middle of the night should Ted’s brothers or mother decide to answer the phone or be disturbed by it. He knew Ted would understand, just as he knew that the man would be going out of his mind.
“I didn’t tell him,” Mark said, almost casually. “Once he’s recovered, we might have to do an operation, open him up again and take the bullet out. I can’t do it now, he’s far too weak but leaving it in for a long time might cause problems, lead poisoning or something along those lines. It’s got to wait though, until he’s strong enough to live through it. And it won’t be easy. Or cheap.”
“Give me your price and come back tomorrow, I’ll have it for you then.” John glanced at Mark, knowing that whatever he asked for, it was worth the price. If Alex had died, then it would have been down to him - at least he didn’t have that on his conscience.
Mark took his leave shortly afterward, after checking over John’s face. John would have liked it if he could have looked at Chris too, but the man was sleeping and he didn’t want to wake him, for good reason. All of them looked beat and he wished that he call it a night, but it wasn’t happening right then.
“Ev, a word?” He indicated for the young man to follow him into the kitchen and put the kettle onto the stove, needing all the caffeine that he could get right then. Evan looked nervous and John didn’t blame him. “Who called about Sheamus?”
“Vladimir himself.” Evan shrugged a little. “I think he was expecting to get you.”
“Right.” John leaned against the counter. “Who was the second call from?”
Evan hesitated. “The cops.” He looked at the floor. “Phil. He was calling for you, to talk to you? But when he got me instead, he talked some about what’s been going on.”
John watched him and Evan shrugged. “They’ve found the safehouse. No evidence about who was there, though Phil suspects. The neighbours aren’t talking and all they have are the dead guys. Oh, and Phil took Mason Ryan in for questioning earlier tonight. He was staking out Drew’s place.”
“He told you this?” John’s voice was mild but there was a slight frown on his face. “Knowing that you’d tell me?”
“Yeah. He did it for me.” Evan sounded as guilty as he felt. “He wanted me to feel safe. In return I told him that Sheamus was dead and that we didn’t do it. He didn’t ask for any names. He promised me that what I said was off the record. He knows it was us. But he’s not about to do anything on his own - he said he didn’t have the evidence anyway, including enough to hold Ryan on, though when I said he was the one who attacked me, I think that he might come up with something… look, he said that McMahon was investigating it too and that he couldn’t stop him from looking into it.”
John considered it. “It would take the heat off them finding who shot Ted Senior, since we could do with them not looking too deeply into our affairs-“And didn’t he feel guilty for being so calculating about it? “So I guess it’s not all bad.”
“Phil wants me to go to his house once I get out of here,” Evan admitted.
John was saved from answering right away by the whistling of the kettle; turning he started making coffees for all of them. “I can’t tell you no. And I trust that you won’t land us into any trouble. Please don’t make me regret it Evan.”
Evan was speechless and John turned to him, looking slightly amused. “This isn’t my choice to make. You’ve shown me that you didn’t get us in trouble the first time, even though I wasn’t sure whether it’d land us in it. This is something you have to figure out on your own - just remember, you could have us all in jail if you say the wrong word or your trust is misplaced, so tread really carefully Ev.”
“I promise John.” Evan looked serious. “I won’t talk shop with him tonight. And I’ll have to work something out before I think about anything more. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t Ev.” John smiled. “Look, I’m gonna ask you to wait around a while, until the sun comes up at least. Then I’ll wake Chris and Wade, let them take over guard duty.”
“You think Alex needs a guard?”
“No. But I think there should be someone here other than Mike. He needs to sleep too and he might not want to leave Alex even for a moment. They can fetch and carry. At sunrise, we can head off and I might actually get to go home to my husband.” He thought back a moment to the confession that Mike had made, about Alex proposing and sighed to himself. It had brought some troubles with it, but marrying Ted had been the best thing he had ever done and he couldn’t quite comprehend that Mike would have thought it would be better for them to wait. Well, when Alex got better, if Mike had meant what he said about marrying him, then John would be more than happy to throw them a wedding on a scale as grand as the one he and Ted had thrown.
“Randy and Cody should be back with news soon,” he said, handing Evan a coffee. “Once we know more, we’ll feel better. I just want to get back to Ted and sleep for about a week, then wake up to find Alex is all better.”
“Me too,” agreed Evan.
“Although presumably not with Ted?”
Evan chuckled, curling his hands around the coffee cup. “With Phil,” he replied with a small smile. “Definitely with Phil.”
“Boys.” Vladimir was behind his desk and for a moment Randy wondered how he could bear to be alone in a room with the corpse of his enemy, although he knew better than to ask. And he thought he might even understand, if not empathise; the dead man had killed the Russian’s lover and this was his time to gloat. Sheamus might have struck at both of their families hard, but it was the Russian who’d had the last word.
“Vladimir,” said Cody in an almost friendly tone. Randy noticed that the corpse had very little effect on his lover, he merely gave it a long, interested look and then his attention was back on the living. “Where did you find Sheamus hiding? Last we saw him, he was fleeing one of his own houses. I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to try to hide at another one.”
“He wasn’t.” Vladimir gave a rather grim smile, pouring himself another glass of the vodka he was drinking and then seeming to remember his manners, turning to the cupboard behind him and getting out another two glasses. He poured them a drink from the same bottle he was drinking from, pushing both glasses to them. “Drink up. This is real vodka, none of the crap you find at the speakeasies. It will put hairs on your chest young Cody.”
It would have been rude to refuse and there could be nothing wrong with the drink since Vladimir was drinking it too; both Cody and Randy knocked them back in one, Cody grimacing and trying not to gag. “Hair on my chest? In the morning, I’ll have hair on my tongue!”
Vladimir laughed uproariously at the comment, although Cody thought that there was some sadness there too. “It is strong, not for everyone. And I understand you have had a very long night.” He reclaimed his seat, although Randy and Cody stayed standing - there was only one chair left and neither wanted to be parked next to Sheamus. “No, he did not go to his safehouse. Justin had already returned when he came here. He has been hiding, but I do not know where. He came to me in anger, forgetting that I too have a good reason to want him dead.” He shrugged, pouring himself another drink. “He was soundly defeated at your hands. I imagine he wished some kind of alliance against you. I did not wait for him to tell me his reason, I merely took advantage of his presence. My men have always known that should he arrive here, he is to be led straight to me and let us say, I know of who is at my door without leaving my chair. His end was more merciful than he deserved and he came looking for it.”
He swilled the vodka around in the glass and abruptly put it on the table without drinking. “I hear also that you have had some casualties of your own?”
“An injury,” said Randy quickly. “We’re waiting to see if he’ll pull through.”
“Hmm.” Vladimir nodded, thinking. “For several years, our family has coincided along yours. There is money to be made, a lot of money but with neither one of us going for total control, we have been able to get along. More or less. We have had our skirmishes, yes? But nothing that could not be dealt with. And then along comes the Irishman and changes the rules. However, since he is no longer with us, I see no reason for us not to go back as we were. I am not a greedy man, I get along perfectly well, as do those who work with me. I am not unreasonable and I am not stupid either. As unsettled as things are, I do not think that we are helping ourselves by taking advantage of that. I imagine that even in this time Mr Cena’s business keep going, as does my own.”
Vladimir leant back. “So! I am suggesting that our truce continues much as it was before all this unpleasantness. Should things change of course, I will change with them - but I see no reason to start hostilities because one of the players has left the game. A gesture of goodwill, yes? There has been enough death and we have all been touched by it.”
Randy glanced over at Sheamus’ cooling corpse, then back at Vladimir, thinking of the devastation on Mike’s face as he tried to keep them from his dying lover. “That sounds good. I’ll relay your message back to John but I’m sure I speak for him when I accept.”
“Wonderful.” Vladimir reached for his drink. “You must excuse me, this is something of a celebration for me. I never thought that I would get the chance to take Sheamus to death with my own hand…” He paused a moment. “It is a fine day for me.”
“He’s dead,” said Cody bluntly. “It’s a fine day for us too.”
Vladimir nodded. “You wish to take his head back to John? That he may take it to his husband and prove that there is no more need for him to fear?”
Cody bit his lip to stop a bray of laughter from emerging as he imagined Ted’s reaction to that - and then remembered Ted’s actions of late and wondered if it would go down as badly as he thought. But John would never agree to take his beloved husband so grizzly a gift. “No. Our word will be good enough.”
“And our thanks,” added Randy.
Vladimir nodded. “Tomorrow Sheamus will be found, quite publicly and he will serve as warning to anyone else who wishes to involve themselves in our affairs. You still have some cleaning up to do I believe,” he added dryly. “Do not let me keep you. Tonight, our family celebrates. Tomorrow will be business as usual.”
And Santino will still be dead thought Cody, but wisely kept the thought to himself. Vladimir seemed happy, but grimly so. Probably he had already realised that there was no amount of revenge that would return his lover to him.
~:~
Evan’s words slammed into Punk with the force of a hammer. If one of the man’s associates had been killed, then it served as warning that it might well have been Evan himself in that position. He would never take pleasure in a man’s suffering, but he couldn’t help but be relieved it had been someone else. The relief made him feel like a terrible person but he didn’t much care about how bad he was. He cared only for Evan’s safety.
“Is he gonna make it?” he asked.
Evan gave a shaky sigh and Punk thought he could hear tears in it. That was almost more frightening than knowing what Evan had been involved in of late, somehow it made it all the more real. “I don’t know.”
“What hospital’s he at?”
“He’s not. I’ll bet all the hospital’s are being covered by the cops, right?”
“You’d be right,” said Punk, even though he knew he should not be giving this information. Sharing police secrets with a man he knew damned well was involved in the bootlegging racket - had it been someone else, he would have sacked them and had them up on charges to boot. But he was doing it nevertheless. He supposed it said a lot about where his loyalties lay; not with money and status as with so many other cops who did what he was doing right then, but with Evan himself.
“We’re dealing with it ourselves.” Evan stopped, but he didn’t hang up the phone and Punk took that as a good sign. To hell with the job; for the most part he had spent the last few days in a state of low-grade terror for Evan’s well being. He didn’t want the other to hang up without giving him a few answers.
“Off the record Ev?” He leant against the wall, twisting the cord of the phone around in his fingers. “What happened out there tonight? And don’t play dumb with me. I’m not using it against you, I’ll conveniently forget that I ever spoke to you about this as soon as we finish talking. I just need to know.”
There was a long pause and Punk thought for a while that Evan wasn’t going to answer him. Then he heard a sigh. “Why do you want to know Phil?”
“I need to know because I need to know what you’re getting into,” said Punk without even thinking about his response. “I need to know what the worst might be instead of just imagining it. And I need to know that you’re okay, really okay and not just saying you are because I can’t see you right now.”
“And not because you want to go around making a few arrests?”
“It’s off the record Ev,” Punk reminded him. “And right now, the job’s the least important part of this. You’ve no idea - how I’ve been chasing around trying to deal with all this before you got really hurt…” He trailed off. Evan probably didn’t need to know how he’d been feeling the last few days.
Evan didn’t say anything and Punk could see what he must look like, brow furrowed, probably tired out, considering what he’d said. He wanted to cajole the man but that would never work. Either Evan would tell him or he wouldn’t.
“The Irishman’s dead.”
Punk almost dropped the phone. “What?!”
“We had nothing to do with him dying,” said Evan, voice almost flat as if he didn’t expect to be believed and oddly enough, that only made Punk decide he was telling the truth. “But yeah, that mess out there? Sheamus hurt a lot of people and we were next on his list. Something had to be done before that happened.”
No actual confession Punk noticed, but enough said so that he was in no doubt that Evan had been involved. He kept his silence, allowing Evan to continue. “It’s over with, the shootings and everything. It’s done. I guess you can call that unsolved - unless you’re going to suddenly go back on the record.”
“No.” Punk closed his eyes and sighed. He could use this in so many ways, even if he had it as a starting-point to start trailing Cena. But he had promised. And anything he did to chase Cena would only end up coming back on Evan, the one person he really wanted to protect in the whole mess. “It’s strictly between you and me, I’ll make like I haven’t heard a thing. Your secrets safe for the moment - but that doesn’t mean it’s the end. McMahon’s on it and he’s pissed.”
“Has he got any witnesses?”
“Are you using me for information?”
Evan’s sigh was deeply weary. “It would help me to know. But I don’t wanna put you in a bad spot. Forget I asked.”
“No one’s talking. The neighbours all say they took cover when the shooting began and didn’t look outside until it was over.”
There was another moment of silence; Evan surprised that Punk had volunteered the information and Punk just as surprised that it had come out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say anything but he wasn’t exactly sorry that he had. It wasn’t like it would matter in the end.
“I need to go,” said Evan eventually. “I need to check on uh, my friend. There’s a doctor seeing to him but I - I don’t know. It doesn’t look good at all. He hasn’t moved since…”
“Okay.” Punk stared unseeingly at the wall a moment, gathering his courage. “Come by my place.”
“Phil-“
“I know. We won’t talk about this, if you don’t want. Hell, we don’t have to talk at all. I just want to see with my own eyes that you’re in one piece. I’ll finish up here and go back and - y’know, wait. And once you’re done there, maybe you can just see me.”
“Maybe.” Evan’s voice was soft and undecided. “I don’t know how long I’ll be and I don’t know if it’s a good idea. But maybe.” He chewed on his lip a moment, wondering. It was a terrible idea but it had been a terrible night and the one person he wanted to speak to was Phil. The one person he wanted to lean on and forget everything for awhile was him.
“I’ve only got one last thing to sort out-“Punk hesitated and then asked anyway. “You know a guy called Mason Ryan?”
“He was there,” said Evan immediately. “He’s one of the Irishman’s guys and - it was him who broke into my house.”
Punk growled. “Then he might have a little accident while he’s in custody.”
“Wait, you’ve got him in jail?” Evan’s voice was disbelieving. “What about Drew?”
“The long haired guy? He went home.” Punk switched the ear he was holding the phone to. “But I’ve got nothing to hold him on. Either of them on.”
“You know he was at the house,” said Evan.
“Yeah. And do you think he’ll hesitate to give you up to save his own ass?”
Evan was quiet and Punk frowned, wishing he didn’t have to drive his point home. “And how the hell do I know that he was there without having talked to you? But I’ll see what I can do. I’ll see you later?”
“Maybe.” Evan put the phone down, knowing what John would say - it was too dangerous, too likely to compromise them. But it was all very well for John to say; the love of his life was waiting at home for him. He couldn’t say for sure that Phil was the love of his life but he knew damn well that there was no one else he’d rather be with right then. And it was like John himself as well; he couldn’t help who he fell for.
No one had been paying attention to the conversation; they were all too involved in listening to what the doctor had to say. Mike looked on the verge of collapse and Evan tuned back into the conversation. Alex hadn’t moved, hadn’t woken up but he didn’t seem to have gotten worse either and Evan didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. That John looked ready to blow his stack at the fact the doctor didn’t seem to be promising though.
Mark raised both hands and Evan noticed, rather squeamishly, that they were splattered with blood. “I don’t have the tools to take the bullet out here. I could have cut him open and taken it out, then sewn him back up - that’s what I would have preferred! But he’s lost a lot of blood and if I did that, here, he’d die.”
Mike let out a little moan.
“And I’m not promising he’ll live either. But he’s stable, he’s sewn up and he’s not bleeding any more. He’s got a chance. He’ll need a lot of care, he shouldn’t be moved right now, but-“He gave a wry half-smile. “He’s a fighter. When I got here, I wouldn’t have given him a snowball’s chance in Hell. That he’s made it this far means I’m a lot more confident he’ll go further.”
“Thank you.” John looked over at Alex. “Can we at least move him from the couch?”
“To the bed. He’ll have to stay here John, so I hope you don’t mind the company.”
“I’ll probably be staying at my mother-in-law’s house awhile anyway.” John looked over at Mike. “I’ll move him into the master bedroom.”
Mike looked bemused but John took no notice, merely picking Alex up with as much care as he could and trying not to disturb his stitches. Evan went ahead of him, preparing to pull aside the covers or whatever else he might need. Mike made as if to follow and Mark reached out to put a hand on his wrist and stop him. “You need to listen to this,” he said sternly. “That wound needs to be kept sterile. The biggest danger for him right now is getting an infection there, as weak as he is there’s no way he’ll survive. You’ll have to clean it frequently. You’ll probably have to feed him for a while. Liquids, soup, that kind of thing. No solids for at least a week. The bullet didn’t hit his intestinal track but we don’t wanna put unnecessary strain on him. I’ll be back at least once a day to check on him, let you know anything else… hydrated. You need to make him drink a lot. And uh, he won’t be able to get up and use the bathroom. He’s not even to try. You’ll have to look after him every hour of the day.”
“I can manage that,” said Mike determinedly as John emerged from the bedroom, Alex deposited on the bed.
“Well, not like that you can’t.” Mark glanced over his bloodstained, dirty clothes. “You’re a health hazard. You need to wash up before you go near him.”
“Will do.” Mike glanced at John, suddenly very aware of where they were. “Is that…”
“Go use the bathroom.” John gave a smile. “And I’ll find you something to wear. Call this place your home for the foreseeable future, okay?”
Mike nodded. “Thanks John - for everything. And thank you.” He looked at Mark, naked gratitude in his eyes. “I need to get to Alex, excuse me.” He vanished into the bathroom and John let out a long breath. It was proving to be a long night and it wasn’t over yet. He really wanted to call Ted, knowing that his husband must be going out of his mind but if he did that, he would have to come up with a reason to be calling in the middle of the night should Ted’s brothers or mother decide to answer the phone or be disturbed by it. He knew Ted would understand, just as he knew that the man would be going out of his mind.
“I didn’t tell him,” Mark said, almost casually. “Once he’s recovered, we might have to do an operation, open him up again and take the bullet out. I can’t do it now, he’s far too weak but leaving it in for a long time might cause problems, lead poisoning or something along those lines. It’s got to wait though, until he’s strong enough to live through it. And it won’t be easy. Or cheap.”
“Give me your price and come back tomorrow, I’ll have it for you then.” John glanced at Mark, knowing that whatever he asked for, it was worth the price. If Alex had died, then it would have been down to him - at least he didn’t have that on his conscience.
Mark took his leave shortly afterward, after checking over John’s face. John would have liked it if he could have looked at Chris too, but the man was sleeping and he didn’t want to wake him, for good reason. All of them looked beat and he wished that he call it a night, but it wasn’t happening right then.
“Ev, a word?” He indicated for the young man to follow him into the kitchen and put the kettle onto the stove, needing all the caffeine that he could get right then. Evan looked nervous and John didn’t blame him. “Who called about Sheamus?”
“Vladimir himself.” Evan shrugged a little. “I think he was expecting to get you.”
“Right.” John leaned against the counter. “Who was the second call from?”
Evan hesitated. “The cops.” He looked at the floor. “Phil. He was calling for you, to talk to you? But when he got me instead, he talked some about what’s been going on.”
John watched him and Evan shrugged. “They’ve found the safehouse. No evidence about who was there, though Phil suspects. The neighbours aren’t talking and all they have are the dead guys. Oh, and Phil took Mason Ryan in for questioning earlier tonight. He was staking out Drew’s place.”
“He told you this?” John’s voice was mild but there was a slight frown on his face. “Knowing that you’d tell me?”
“Yeah. He did it for me.” Evan sounded as guilty as he felt. “He wanted me to feel safe. In return I told him that Sheamus was dead and that we didn’t do it. He didn’t ask for any names. He promised me that what I said was off the record. He knows it was us. But he’s not about to do anything on his own - he said he didn’t have the evidence anyway, including enough to hold Ryan on, though when I said he was the one who attacked me, I think that he might come up with something… look, he said that McMahon was investigating it too and that he couldn’t stop him from looking into it.”
John considered it. “It would take the heat off them finding who shot Ted Senior, since we could do with them not looking too deeply into our affairs-“And didn’t he feel guilty for being so calculating about it? “So I guess it’s not all bad.”
“Phil wants me to go to his house once I get out of here,” Evan admitted.
John was saved from answering right away by the whistling of the kettle; turning he started making coffees for all of them. “I can’t tell you no. And I trust that you won’t land us into any trouble. Please don’t make me regret it Evan.”
Evan was speechless and John turned to him, looking slightly amused. “This isn’t my choice to make. You’ve shown me that you didn’t get us in trouble the first time, even though I wasn’t sure whether it’d land us in it. This is something you have to figure out on your own - just remember, you could have us all in jail if you say the wrong word or your trust is misplaced, so tread really carefully Ev.”
“I promise John.” Evan looked serious. “I won’t talk shop with him tonight. And I’ll have to work something out before I think about anything more. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t Ev.” John smiled. “Look, I’m gonna ask you to wait around a while, until the sun comes up at least. Then I’ll wake Chris and Wade, let them take over guard duty.”
“You think Alex needs a guard?”
“No. But I think there should be someone here other than Mike. He needs to sleep too and he might not want to leave Alex even for a moment. They can fetch and carry. At sunrise, we can head off and I might actually get to go home to my husband.” He thought back a moment to the confession that Mike had made, about Alex proposing and sighed to himself. It had brought some troubles with it, but marrying Ted had been the best thing he had ever done and he couldn’t quite comprehend that Mike would have thought it would be better for them to wait. Well, when Alex got better, if Mike had meant what he said about marrying him, then John would be more than happy to throw them a wedding on a scale as grand as the one he and Ted had thrown.
“Randy and Cody should be back with news soon,” he said, handing Evan a coffee. “Once we know more, we’ll feel better. I just want to get back to Ted and sleep for about a week, then wake up to find Alex is all better.”
“Me too,” agreed Evan.
“Although presumably not with Ted?”
Evan chuckled, curling his hands around the coffee cup. “With Phil,” he replied with a small smile. “Definitely with Phil.”