A/N: Okay, so this is something I'm trying out. I got this song stuck in my head and I kept seeing the same images, so I thought I'd write them down and see where it goes. Hopefully, it'll be good.

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers. Not even in this younger form. :P Also, I'm making up place names and descriptions as I go along.

Walkin' After Midnight

Chapter 1: I Go Out Walkin'

The wind was blowing. That was the first thing that Jeff noticed when he stood next to the swaying willow. It wasn't cold, exactly; it was more that it was rustling the plants in the field, and making the old tree dance. He could feel his hair, drifting in the breeze, almost like it did when he was underwater. It made him want to hold his breath. A sense of longing rushed through him as the long grass stalks whispered in the wind. It felt like he'd been here before, like there was something he was forgetting that was really important, a reason that he was here… Whatever it was, it hovered, tantalizingly beyond his reach.

And then he heard a sound, past the wind. He could almost make out the word that was drifting to him. It was on the edge of his hearing. Just as he felt it was about to drive him mad, he realized that it was his name, in a lilting female voice. He knew that voice from somewhere, but he wasn't sure where. He turned, trying to find the source of the voice, and that was when he saw the glow, halfway down the deserted road. The moon was shining down, like daylight, landing on the surface of the old pond. He could see someone sitting next to the pond, her dress spread around her the way old fashioned girls used to sit. Her hair looked long and wavy from here. Jeff found himself moving toward her, wanting a better look.

The moonglow put a shine on her skin, unnatural but beautiful. She looked like a ghost, skin alabaster in the unearthly light. Jeff crept down the bank to her side, staring, awe-struck. She lifted her gaze and smiled at him. "I'm Jeff," he said, and she laughed. It was a beautiful sound, tinkling and dainty like bells.

"I know," she said. "You tell me that every single night."

Jeff licked his lips nervously, then sat down beside her. The girl watched him with amusement. "What's your name?"

"Sera," she whispered.

"That's a beautiful name," he said.

Sera smiled. "Yes. But you'll forget it. You always do."

"This time, I'll remember," he said. The wind kicked up, and the water in the pond rippled violently. Jeff turned to the water in time to see Sera stand and walk to the edge of the pond. "Uh, maybe you should stay back."

Sera smiled. "Why? Are you afraid of the wind, Jeff?"

"No, but you might fall in." Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were a bad idea. Sera laughed and the water in the pond rose up to meet her. The noise was incredibly loud, but even over it, Jeff could hear Sera humming a song. He had no idea what it was, even though it sounded like something he should know. She was scooped up by the wave and carried to the center of the pond. "Sera!" he called.

"It's okay, Jeff," she said. Weirdly, he could still hear the song, even when she talking to him. "The water won't hurt us."

"I'm afraid," he said, his mouth dry.

"You always are."

He wanted to say that he wasn't always afraid, that he was brave, but the words were stuck in his throat. And then, as he watched, everything started to fade away. "Sera!"

%

"Jeff!" Matt shook his brother more violently. "Wake up, will you? We're going to be late again!"

Jeff blinked the sleep from his eyes and stared up at Matt. "What happened?"

"What do you mean, what happened? You fell asleep. I'm waking you up. You slept through the alarm again."

"No, I mean what happened with the girl?"

"Girl?" Matt asked, shaking his head. "What girl? Man, you have got to get it together. We're going to be late."

Jeff sat up and looked around his room. It looked the same as it had when he'd fallen into bed the previous night; clothes in disarray on the floor, easel set up in one corner with a half finished painting staring back at him, and two dozen CD's spread over the desk like a fan. The alarm clock was buried on the desk, and Jeff could hear its feeble protesting as it tried valiantly to beep. "I need a new clock."

"Again," Matt sighed. "I don't know why dad bothers. You keep smashing the stupid things."

Jeff finally dragged himself from the bed. "Okay, let's go, I guess."

Matt raised his eyebrows as he took in his brother's rumpled, paint spattered shirt and the old, ripped and faded jeans. "You're going like that?"

"Yes?"

"I hate to be the one to point it out, Jeff, but you wore that yesterday. And the day before. And yeah, you should probably grab a shower and change clothes, man."

Jeff pondered. "I smell?"

Matt made a face. "Yeah."

"Okay. Then give me five minutes. And um, is there anything clean, do you know?"

Matt sighed again and grabbed Jeff's laundry basket from beneath a pile of canvases. "You were supposed to put these away."

"Whatever." Jeff grabbed clothes without paying attention to what they were. "I'll be down in like five minutes."

%

Jeff flicked through the radio station buttons again, making Matt glare at him. "What?" he said. "I'm just trying to find something worth listening to this morning!"

"Jeff, you know as well as I do that there's never anything worth listening to on the radio out here. If you wanted music, you should have brought one of your CDs. Now maybe you could put it back on the morning news and let me listen in peace?"

Jeff glared at his brother, but clicked the button to change the station back to the news. It seemed like every morning, they had the same conversation. Eventually, Jeff was able to tune out the newscaster's droning voice and concentrate on the painting he could see in his head. For some reason, he wanted to go down to the old Miller's pond and take some pictures. He'd been down there nearly every day this week, his digital camera chasing shadows that he couldn't quite see, but that he definitely felt. The painting he'd been working on before bed felt dark and oppressive in his mind, hovering over everything. He didn't know why, but thinking about the painting gave him the chills, and not in a good way.

When they pulled up to the school, Jeff hopped out. "See you after."

"Jeff," Matt said, making his brother pause. "Maybe today, you could try not to get your ass kicked?"

Jeff sighed. "It's not like I get into a fight every day, Matt."

"I know. It just feels like every day."

"Well, tell your football buddies to leave me alone, then," Jeff said, slamming the door. "Because if they get up in my face, there's gonna be a fight."

"No," Matt muttered, watching his brother walk away, "there's gonna be a slaughter. Again."

Jeff was beyond hearing the concern in the words of his brother, though. He bounced up the steps to the school and headed for his locker. The cracked mirror that hung inside showed his pale face, complete with smudgy eyeliner. Guys couldn't get away with much make-up at school, unfortunately, or he'd be in full war paint all the time. He knew it freaked Matt out when he would slather on greasepaint and make intricate designs on his skin.

"Hey, Jeff," he heard behind him. Jeff shifted his attention from himself in the cracked mirror onto his friend, Shannon.

"Oh, hey, man," Jeff said. He slammed the locker and turned to Shannon. "Did you finish that math assignment last night?"

"Right," Shannon said, rolling his eyes. "You want to do something this weekend?"

"Like what?"

Shannon smiled. "Tell your dad you're staying over at my house. I heard there's going to be this killer band out at the Ginmill tomorrow night."

"Sounds cool," Jeff said.

"Yeah. It'll be great. Just don't let your brother know, huh? Last time, he nearly got us caught. Anyway, I gotta get to class. Turner said if I'm late one more time, he's gonna send me to an in school suspension. See ya."

"Bye," Jeff muttered. He looked down at the books he didn't remember taking from his locker and headed to class, humming the whole way. He had a snippet of a tune stuck in his brain, and though he had no idea where he'd heard it, he couldn't dislodge the damned thing. He landed in his seat just as the bell sounded, causing his English teacher to glare at him. Jeff smiled and pulled out his book, then waited for class to start.

%

By lunch, Jeff had forgotten the dream. He'd settled in his normal corner of the lunchroom with his friends, Shannon and Phil. The other two were in deep discussion of the band that Shannon had mentioned. Jeff was only half listening as he drew on one of his paper bookcovers. The cover was already rife with doodles. "What do you think, Jeff?" Phil asked.

"Huh?" Jeff paused in the middle of the pattern he was working on and looked up to see both of his friends staring at him. "About what?"

"The Dead Cartel, of course!" Phil said.

"Uh. Great?"

"See?" Shannon said. "He doesn't care, Phil. He wasn't even listening. And he probably has no idea who the Dead Cartel is."

"Sorry," Jeff muttered, his eyes drawn to the design he'd been working on.

"But you're coming with us, right?" Phil asked.

"Sure," Jeff said, as he retraced the line he'd just drawn.

"Told you," Shannon said. "And you're not going to tell Matt this time, right?"

Jeff looked up at the edge in his friend's voice. "No, of course not. Uh, so does that mean your mom's going to let you borrow the car?"

"Yeah," Shannon said with a smirk.

"Oh, good." Jeff smiled. "I didn't want to have to walk this time."

"Dude, that sucked," Phil said. "I almost broke my damned neck…"

"Did you have to get him started on that again?" Shannon asked Jeff. "He'd pretty much forgotten about it."

"I didn't forget," Phil said.

"Well, you quit bringing it up," Shannon muttered.

"Only because you said you'd beat me bloody if I didn't."

"Yeah? And I still will, so shut up about it, Phil!" Shannon growled. Jeff chuckled. "Something funny, Hardy?"

"Matt thinks I'm the one that keeps getting us into fights. I wish he could see you right now. He'd know it's not my fault."

Shannon rolled his eyes. "They're always the ones that start it. I just finish it."

"And get me into all kinds of trouble," Jeff said. He shook his head. "Forget it. At least it's Friday, right?"

"Totally," Phil agreed.

"You guys suck," Shannon muttered.

"So do you," Phil said, "because you hang around with us."

Jeff snickered. "Uh, Phil… yeah. No. Probably not the best argument you could have come up with."

"No, he's right," Shannon said, smirking at Phil. "I do suck because I hang out with you two ladies."

"Whatever," Jeff said. He pushed the book away, the drawing on the cover half finished. He was no longer in the mood to draw. Especially when he glanced over at the jock table and saw Orton staring at them and smirking. "Uh, guys? I think maybe we'd better get out of here while we can."

Shannon turned to see where he was looking. "Like he's going to do anything." He turned back to Jeff. "I say bring it."

"You always say bring it," Jeff said, standing and grabbing his book. "Which is why I've been suspended three times this year already, and it's not even March yet."

Shannon shrugged. "Don't like the heat, stay out of the kitchen, Hardy."

"Wish I could," Jeff muttered. "Come on, Phil. We should get to class."

"But lunch is only half over," Phil said.

"Yeah, and I'd like to not get my ass kicked in the second half," Jeff said. "Because if I get suspended again, my dad's not going to let me go out this weekend."

"Fine," Shannon sighed. "Run. I'll cover your backs. But if he comes at me, so help me God, I'll kill him this time."

Jeff smiled. "Appreciate it." He jerked his head at Phil and headed for the door.

Phil grabbed the apple left over from his lunch and his backpack and followed Jeff. They went out the back door so they wouldn't have to pass the jock's table. As the door shut behind them, Phil said, "Looks like Orton's up and headed this way."

"Shannon's got our backs," Jeff said, continuing toward the art building without pausing.

"Yeah, but Jeff…"

Jeff turned to his friend. "Do you want to get in another fight?"

"No."

"Shannon does." Jeff shrugged. "So we may as well let him have his fun. So long as it's only Orton, he'll be fine. He'll hold his own."