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.

A/N: The chapter title comes from Stabbing Westward's "You Complete Me".

Walkin' After Midnight

Chapter 10: Between Two Worlds

By lunchtime, Phil seemed to be over his earlier anger. He took his usual spot next to Jeff and dug into his lunch without a word. Serena sat next to Shannon again. Shannon, for his part, merely looked at Serena and shrugged before turning to Jeff. "I never did get to ask you about your conversation with Matt this morning. That must have been something."

Jeff glanced around the cafeteria. He saw his brother at his usual table, then turned to Shannon. "I think he's feeling pressured by graduation."

"Seriously?" Shannon said. "It's still September."

"October," Phil corrected.

"Whatever. It's still fall. Graduation's the whole school year away. And isn't he getting like straight A's, as usual?"

"Probably," Jeff said.

Shannon rolled his eyes. "He's lucky. He's almost out of this hellhole."

"It's not that bad," Serena said. All three boys turned to look at her. She blushed, but continued. "As schools go, this one's okay. Better than a military school, anyway."

"That's a given," Phil agreed. "Military school sounds way worse than here."

"Okay, sure," Shannon said. "And if Matt were worried about being shipped off to military school, I could see it. But we're talking about getting out of high school in June and having an actual life. He's freaking out about not being in this school a year from now." He paused. "And if his big rebellion is smoking a cigarette behind the gym with a girl, then he's not even doing a good job of rebelling against it."

"Smoking is not good for you," Phil said.

Shannon leaned across the table. "Tell me something I don't know, Phil."

Phil got a thoughtful look on his face. "That would require me to know what you do know about it. How about this? Cigarettes are made with tar."

"Everyone knows that," Shannon said.

"So you're smoking the road," Phil continued. "You're like putting blacktop into your lungs."

"It's tar, not asphalt," Shannon said. "They haven't made roads from tar in years."

Phil frowned. "Then I've got nothing right now. Let me do some research and get back to you."

"Don't bother," Shannon muttered.

"I don't mind," Phil said. "It'll give me more facts to help out the smokers around here." He looked pointedly at Serena.

"I'm quitting," she said, holding up her hands.

"Really?" Phil asked, his face lighting up. "Is it because we talked about how bad it is for you?"

"Not exactly," she said. "I don't have the money for cigarettes here."

"Oh." Phil sighed and shook his head. "Well, quitting's quitting, anyway, and it's better for you, no matter what the reason."

"Yes, another straightedge victory," Shannon said sarcastically. "At this rate, you might manage to save five people this year, Phil."

"I can hope," Phil said. He grinned and turned to Jeff. "Jeff? Are you all right?"

"Huh?" Jeff blinked. "I'm sorry. What were we talking about again?"

Phil and Shannon frowned at one another. "You seem to be drifting off a lot lately," Shannon said. "Are you… uh…" He glanced at Phil, and Jeff's gaze followed his.

"Straightedge?" Jeff asked, brow furrowing.

"Sleeping," Phil said, eyeing Jeff in annoyance. "You're not still having nightmares, are you?"

"Geez, guys," Jeff said. "That was one time!"

"Yeah, but it looked pretty bad," Phil said.

"I'll say," Shannon muttered.

"Well, you'll both be happy to know I'm sleeping just fine. Like a baby. No nightmares. In fact, no dreams at all."

Phil frowned. "Is that normal?"

"It's fine," Jeff said. "I mean, last night I slept…" He paused, frowning. "Well, a little. But I was worried about Matt. I got up and painted this morning and it's fine. We've got that all worked out, so there's no need for you two to stress about it."

"Okay," Shannon said. "So are you going to spend the weekend, then? There might be something good playing at the movies for once."

Phil made a face. "Doubt it. Hey, wasn't the Dead Cartel going to be back this weekend?"

"Yeah, I think so," Shannon said.

"Well, we could go back out and see them again," Phil said hopefully. "I mean, you did drag me off in the middle of it, Jeff."

"Sorry," Jeff muttered.

"Me too," Serena said, "since that was my fault. But seriously, Phil, The Dead Cartel sucks."

"You have no appreciation for decent Punk music," Phil said with a sniff.

Serena laughed. "And you have no idea what decent Punk music sounds like."

"Oh, please!" Phil said. "I'm Mr. Punk."

"Mr. Crappy Punk!" Serena grinned at Phil's annoyed look. "So we can call you like, M. C . Punk."

"That makes me sound like a DJ," Phil said, making a face at her.

"Crappy Mr. Punk, then," Jeff said, getting in on the game. "C. M. Punk."

"Ha," Phil said. "Shows what you two know. I could probably have a really awesome band with that name."

"Crappy Mr. Punk?" Shannon asked. "More like Crappy Music Punk if it's your band."

"Whatever," Phil said. "Are we going to see the Dead Cartel or not?"

"Sure," Shannon said. "Jeff?"

"Yeah, fine," Jeff agreed. "It's better than sitting home and doing nothing, I suppose. What about you, Serena?"

"Ashley will probably go," she said. "So yeah, maybe. Even if it's crap, at least I get out of the house, right?"

"Right," Jeff said.

%

Jeff met his brother at the car after school. "At least you seem to be staying out of trouble," Matt said. "Hey, who's that bald girl that was sitting with you at lunch?"

"Ashley Massaro's cousin Serena," Jeff said with a shrug.

"Oh. She's nice?"

"Yeah," Jeff said. He fiddled with the radio. "She's okay."

"Huh." Matt paused, frowning. "Hey, Jeff?"

"Hmm?"

"About that picture you painted…"

"What about it?" Jeff asked, turning his head to look at his brother. He hit the radio's scan button, letting it search through the stations.

Matt turned the radio down so it was just background noise. "What… Uh. I mean, it was different than what you usually paint."

"I guess."

"What made you paint it?"

"I dunno." Jeff slouched in the seat and reached for the radio button again. Matt's sideways look stopped him. "Why?"

"It's interesting." Matt hit the scan button again, to make the station stop changing. Jeff made a face when the station it stopped on was playing something that was definitely country. "I've just never seen you paint anything like it before, and I wondered why you painted it."

"You know how painting is, Matt," Jeff said. "I paint what I see."

"Okay," Matt said, "but where did you see…" The song changed just then and Jeff's attention snapped to the radio. The first strains of the new music made him sit up and he reached out, hand trembling to twist the dial. "Jeff!" Matt said, irritation in his voice, but Jeff wasn't listening. He was riveted by the song blaring from the radio. Matt reached for the dial, but Jeff kept his hand on it, not allowing his brother to turn it down. "What is the matter with you?"

"I know this song," Jeff said, the words so low that Matt almost didn't hear them. He stared at the radio, not really seeing it. Instead, images flickered behind his eyes, too fast for him to make any sense of them. "It's hers. The one that defines her soul."

"It's just an old country song," Matt said.

He pulled into their driveway and shut off the car, causing Jeff to snap his head around and shout, "Turn it back on!" Matt frowned and turned the key so that the song again filled the car. Jeff sighed and let his eyes close. When the song ended, Jeff's eyes opened and met Matt's. His brother was studying him, brown eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You just freaked out on me because some old song was playing on the radio," Matt said. "Can I turn the key now?"

Jeff's hand dropped from the dial. "Yeah. Sorry. I just… keep hearing that song, and I don't know what it is. It's just so haunting."

Matt looked at him as though he were crazy. "It's an old Patsy Cline song called Walking After Midnight. You've heard it a million times, I'm sure."

Jeff shook his head, slowly. "It wasn't Walking After Midnight."

"Yeah it was," Matt said impatiently. "In fact, we've probably got a copy in the house somewhere."

Jeff scowled at his brother. "It wasn't Walking After Midnight!" he said again. "You're right, Walking After Midnight is a song I've heard before, and that was not it. Not at all."

Matt frowned. "Jeff, are you doing drugs or something?"

"What?" Jeff said, offended. "No! God, why would you ask me that?"

"You're acting weird," Matt said.

Jeff picked up his backpack from the floor with a growl. "Just leave me alone, Matt, okay?" He opened the door and got out, slamming it closed as hard as he could on his way out.

Matt stared after his brother, brows furrowed. He had no idea what was going on with Jeff, but something was very wrong. That much he could tell from their recent interactions. And that creepy painting Jeff had done last night… he remembered the look on his brother's face when he'd went to wake him up- vacant, as though he weren't even in there. And now this business with the song on the radio- a song they'd both heard a million times if they'd heard it once… Matt sighed. He was going to get to the bottom of this mess, whether Jeff wanted him to or not.

%

Their father had an early night for once, making it home for dinner. The boys were silent, though, with Jeff shooting glares at his older brother. Matt tried to keep the conversation going, answering his father's questions with as much enthusiasm as he could. Jeff's answers were short and annoyed; something they rarely saw at the table. When he'd finished his dinner, Jeff made an excuse about homework, put his plate away, and left the room without another word.

"All right," Gilbert said to his oldest son, "what's the matter with your brother tonight?"

Matt sighed. "I was going to talk to you about that, actually." He glanced toward the hall, then leaned across the table toward his father. "The past few days, he's been acting pretty strange."

"Strange how?"

"Well, take this morning. I went to wake him up for school, and he was already awake, painting. Looked like he'd been at it a while."

Gilbert smiled. "You know Jeff. He'd give up sleep entirely to paint if he could."

"Right. And for weeks, he's been painting that pond. But this painting is different. It's… " Matt shook his head. "I can't even describe it, dad. You should probably see it for yourself."

"I'll ask to see it after dinner," he said. "Is that all?"

"No. When we were coming home from school today, Jeff got really weird. This old country song came on the radio, you know that one, Walking After Midnight?"

"Patsy Cline," Gilbert confirmed with a nod.

"Yeah. And Jeff turned the radio up and zoned out until it was over. Then he said that he's been hearing it a lot and he had no idea what it was. And when I told him what it was, he went nuts and started yelling at me, saying that it wasn't Walking After Midnight. He ended up storming into the house, and he's been moody ever since. He wouldn't even talk to me until you got home. Every time I come into the room, he leaves. He's angry, and I don't know why.'

"I'll talk to him," said the eldest Hardy with a sigh. He pushed his plate away and stood, pausing to squeeze Matt's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me, son."

Matt nodded and stared down at his plate. "I hate it when he's mad at me."

"I know," Gilbert said. "But don't worry. Whatever's bothering him, we'll get to the bottom of it."