A/N: And here we are, the end of the journey. I'm thankful for everyone that has stuck with this fic and I'm actually kind of sad that it's reached it end. *sniffles* I hope y'all enjoy this last installment. Loves to all my readers.

"How is he?"

"Resting comfortably."

"Can we see him?"

"In a while; he's still out of it."

The words were mumbled as if the speakers had had one too many to drink. At least that was what Mark thought when he blearily opened his eyes. Finally he was able to squint them open enough to where he could see his surroundings. The walls were completely white and there was the heavy scent of disinfectant in the air. With a groan he sank back onto the pillows; the events crashing against the back of his eyelids at a fast clip. He felt feather light touches at his elbow and he looked down to see a nurse taking blood from him. Curious he watched as the crimson liquid slowly seeped down the small tube and filled the vial.

"Why are you taking blood?" He asked quietly.

She obviously hadn't been expecting him to speak; she jumped and the glass tumbled to the floor where it shattered in a thousand shards, splattering her pant legs with blood. Mark couldn't keep it in; he started to laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls and filling the room. The nurse turned a bright shade of red, her brown hair falling into her face as hurried from the room to get someone to clean up the mess.

"Awake I see Mr. Calaway."

Mark turned his head towards the speaker. He was an older gentleman, a mop of silver-white hair gracing the top of his head. He had bright green eyes that were framed by wire rimmed glasses and rather kind looking face. He was dressed like the other doctors Mark had ever seen. White lab coat with khaki pants and non-descript black shoes with a stethoscope draped around his neck.

"Welcome back to the land of the living Mr. Calaway." He said; a genuine smile on his wisdom lined face. "We thought we were going to have four corpses there for a little while."

"F-four?" Mark stammered as he tried to sit up in the bed.

The older man nodded his head and moved over to the side of the bed, placing his arm behind Mark's back and helping him lean forwards. Mark's head swam and he raised his hand to press the palm to his temple when he noticed that it was encased in heavy plaster. He dimly remembered Glen stomping on his wrist before everything went black.

"Unfortunately Mr. Jacobs took two other lives before he orchestrated his own demise."

The doctor's words seemed to be spoken at a fast clip, and Mark shook his head. "I-I don't understand. Only Glen, Kevin and I were in the room." He said, his mind still fighting the fact that the man had said Glen had killed himself.

"There was another man found, but I don't think you should hear it from me. You have some friends that have been waiting to see you. I'm sure they can answer any more questions about it." The doctor said sorrowfully. "Although if you ask me, some things are better left unknown."

"Thank you."

"I'll send them right in." The doctor nodded his head and made a few notes on his chart as he walked from the room.

Mark dimly heard him talking to someone a little further down, but they were to far out of ear shot for him to make out any words. His mind drifted over what little information the man had said. Glen killed two others, then killed himself. A tear welled up in the corner of his eye and he let it roll down his cheek. It was the only tear he could work up for the three passed souls. One not deserving of it, one meaning so much that only one tear was all that he could produce due to the welling emotions and the third unknown yet sharing the solitary tear. Throat clearing caught his attention and Mark looked up. Shawn and Hunter were standing in the doorway, fingers intertwined and tears coursing unheeded down their cheeks.

"Shawn." Mark started, his voice starting to choke up. "I need you to tell me what happened."

"Mark….it was horrible." Shawn broke out into loud sobs and Hunter enfolding the shaking and weeping man in his arms.

"Mark……we got there just as Glen forced the police to shoot him." Hunter explained. "Mark he was covered in blood from head to toe, hair hanging from his hand……not his hair." Hunter stressed. "Glen was screaming, yelling for the cops to shoot him, to take him out of this hell hole. He admitted to killing Kevin…he was laughing about it as he described what it felt like, and how he masturbated afterwards." Hunter's voice started to waver but he forced himself to go on. "He screamed about how because of Kevin he had killed the two people who ever really loved him. Then…then, he lunged at the cops, grabbing one and pulling his gun from the holster. They couldn't not do it Mark…they had to shoot him, they didn't know if he would turn on them all."

Mark closed his eyes, wanting to believe that this was just some horrible nightmare brought on by a stray chair shot, but deep down knowing that it was a nightmare of the worst kind; the kind that come true.

"After that, a team of cops swarmed into the hotel and into the room…one man came running back out, falling down to his knees and vomiting. Apparently it wasn't enough that Kevin was dead, Glen mutilated his body. Hacking of chunks of skin, scalping him, and finally cutting his cock off and shoving it into his mouth." Hunter shuddered. "Then they started to roll the bodies out, the medics talking in low tones. Apparently you and Scott were laid out side by side, sheets pulled over your bodies while Kevin was left in the center of the room."

"Mark……what happened..." Shawn asked, his voice a whisper as he turned his head from Hunter's chest. "You were the last one to see Glen, Kevin and Scott alive…"

"No, Scott wasn't in there. It was just Glen, Kevin and I. Glen…" Mark tried to find a good way to say it, but decided on just saying it out right. "When I got the room, Glen was fucking Kevin's mouth and yelling at him. It went down hill from there, Glen started to choke Kevin and when he was passed out, Glen threw him to the floor and stomped on his neck. I tackled him and tried to tie his hands, but…but…." Mark stopped, he didn't want his last memory of his friend to be the vicious insane creature that had attacked him and killed Kevin.

Shawn seemed to understand; he moved away from Hunter and sat gingerly on the bed, his blue eyes pooled with tears. Mark hung his head; wanting to cry for their lost souls but able to force anything out. He felt Shawn gently take his hand, and looked up to find Hunter sitting on the other side of Shawn, his hand lying on Mark's knee. The three men sat quietly, taking comfort in the presence of each other as their hearts and eyes wept.

Three Days Later

Mark stood outside the church, unable to make himself enter. Glen's mother had already come and gone, her blue eyes; so much like her sons; leaking large tears as sobs tore themselves from her throat from where they surged up from a deep place in the pit of her heart. Mark and tried to comfort her, but she was past that point. She was angry and blaming the industry for taking her baby from her, and than included in blaming Mark. He brought his hand up and pressed his fingers to the stinging pinkish mark that still marred his cheek. He gave a weak smile as he listened to the hymns spilling from the open doors of the church.

"Glen would have laughed. He always said that his mother would lash out when someone threatened him." Mark thought sadly.

He moved back under the shadow of a tree as people started to file out, heads down and sobs filing the quiet afternoon. Glen and Scott had been shown at the same time while Kevin had been buried quietly the day before. Hunter and Shawn were the last ones to come out, Hunter practically carrying Shawn down the steps. Neither blonde seen him; a blessing that Mark thanked god for. He knew that he wouldn't have been able to keep it together if they had wanted to talk. Mark waited for a few minutes to make sure that everyone was out of the church before he climbed the steps; his feet dragging him down as if they were made of lead.

Both caskets were open, their inhabitants faces pointed skywards and their eyes closed. Slowly Mark walked over to Scott's first. He had known the cocky wrestler, but hadn't really gotten to know-know him; something now he wished he had done. He reached down and pressed his hand to Scott's chest, closing his own eyes and whispering that he was sorry. A sense of peace took up residence in his heart. It was as if Scott had just told him that he was forgiven, and that it was all ok. He pulled away and looked over at the other casket, his eyes tracing the lines of Glen's face.

The dam that had been holding all of Mark's tears in finally collapsed and he stood over his friend and lover weeping like a new born babe. With a shaky hand he pushed some of Glen's hair away from his face; even in death the long locks were soft and he cried harder as he forced himself to pull his hand away. The one corner of Glen's lips were tilted up, a ghostly smirk on his still face as he knew something that the rest of the world did not. With a heart wrenching sob, Mark bent over and pressed his lips to Glen's one last time. A soft throat clearing from his right made him look up and he seen Vince and Bill standing to one side. Both men were dressed in black suits, white handkerchiefs in their hands.

"I'm sorry Mark." Bill offered, moving over and placing a hand on Mark's arm.

"Me to Bill, me too."

As one the three stayed and watched as the lids to the caskets were closed and the sleek boxes were slowly carted away; ready for their long ride to the cemetery. Four days later, Mark was found dead in his hotel room, the words "One day I hope you can forgive me" carved into the wall next to the bed and an empty bottle of sleeping pills next to an empty bottle of whiskey near his hand. On his face was a smirk that mirrored the one Glen's still face, letting everyone know that he figured out what Glen had known. Death is just the mirror reflection of life; cold still and quiet. And only in death is the truth revealed.