A/N:So I probably should stop watching 'Twist of Fate: The Matt and Jeff story' because it's giving me all sorts of ideas for fics. Like this one. I still don't know where in the hell this came from but it wouldn't go away until I typed it. So here it is, don't hate because it ain't normal.

I don't own anyone, and I don't have any money, so just kick back and enjoy!

"Kid what the hell are you letting them do to you?"

I couldn't fight the deep pang of sadness that my chest as I watched him assault Vince's new golden boy. You can call kayfabe if you want, but I know real rage and that Hardy boy realwell. As he rips a handful of hair from the raspy immigrants head I sigh; whatever he's done to thedark spit fire must have been extremely raw for him to react like this. Fact is that Hardy is the most even tempered and down to earth one, for him to fly off the handle is nearly unheard of, only a few major ones to his name to date.

As I continue to watch his hysterics the screen blurs on me and suddenly I'm not seeing him...well I am, but it's the him I first come to know. His curls are gone, replaced by that idiotic flat-top that I'm pretty sure was inspired by 'Sting' and his black cargos are brightly colored, hand sewed tights. Besides him as always is his blonde counterpart, the fireworks to his gun powder, the flash to his bang, his baby brother. He's got his arm around him as he's speaking softly and it was then that I notice that his brother is crying. It was in that moment I seen his strength and I knew that he'd be great, a reall asset to Vince's growing empire.

From then on out I made sure to keep my eye on him and I can honestly say he's vever disppointed me. His drive and determination reminded me of me and I did everything I could to help him succeed; not that he knew, if he did I had no doubt that he'd have demanded I stop. Course if you ask me, I'm going to put both of them over, they both have the talent but in my eyes only he, only Matt has the makings of a true Champion. He's a real student of the sport, he watches his matches and learns from his mistakes, he plots out a game plan and hardly ever deviates from it.

Slowly the fresh young face transforms in of my eyes and gone is the too serious young man and in his place is a reckless dare devil that has no regard for his body as long as the crowd cheers. His star was rising; burning steadily but not as brightly as his brother. His highs were the highest while his lows found him being passed around the backstage like a dirty girly mag; his toned and firm body left stained and abused by the men he sought to be a part of. I myself am guilty of instructing him but I never pushed him too far, never forced acts from him I could tell he didn't want to be a part of.

A friendship was formed during those times and he would eagerly ask me questions as we laid together, his downy soft hair spilling across my chest as his captivating eyes sparkled. Yeah I know, I was a hard ass in the ring, always has been and always will be to those I don't deem worthy of my time; but he was managed to crack my defense, breaking my hard facade and getting to me. For a while we'd spend all our free time together, him learning the ropes and I basking in the infectious light of his pure soul.

Then came the damned love-triangle and the warm, loving man I knew was gone, replaced by a bitter and twisted monster. Hate oozed from him and he lashed out, we tangled privately plenty of times; each time ending with him breaking down and sobbing onto my shoulders as I held him tightly. Slowly he rebounded, his fractured and fragile emotions mended and stronger than ever. As his name got bigger his star once more started to climb high while mine declined. I watched from the side lines as he got pushed to the side again and again in favor of his brother, the more flamboyant and therefore more marketable Hardy. Our friendship remained strong, frequent dinners that involved that raw fish he loves to eat followed by slow explorations of bodies that we've come to know so well.

After my retirement I only muddled through the atrocity that SmackDown had become to watch him. Story lines changed and got traded to RAW; things were looking up until his injury-that I didn't even know he had had for so long- and we spent hours on the phone, his Southern drawl reflecting the pain I knew he was feeling even though he was sweet talking me.

"Jub I'm fine."

"Your insides became your outsides..."

A laugh followed by "Jub I'm sewed up, I promise I'm ok"

Then once more things went bad, he came back and started a new story line but his brother getting hauled in on drug charges surfaced and put not only his job but Matt's as well. Matt rebounded again like he always did, his fans behind him and I began to relax; Matt had paid his dues, done the job and thrilled fans. Now it was his time, he earned that one big push to further cement him in the annuals of ProWrestling and Vince McMahon's precious creation.

Now as I look on he's being held back again, only this time it's by a useless, crybaby pretty boy that was more than likely on his knees for Vince every night to secure his spot on the roster and I can't help the single tear that's coursing down my cheek. The ending of RAW held no interest for me, instand I'm frantically searching fo rmy cell phone; finding it the moment it rings. With a smile I answer, the action nearly breaking my face in half when I hear

"Hey Jub."

"Hey kid, I wasn't expecting your call."

"That's complete bullshit Jub and you and I both know it. I'm lost..."

The night wears on as does our conversation until we fall asleep together, plans once more made for the future, plans made for our future.