I leaned against the wall, battling myself on whether or not I should press my ear to Serge's bedroom door or stay out of it and wait for Randy as I was told to. My inner fight didn't last too much longer as Randy pushed softly through the door, closing it behind him. I kicked off the wall, trailing behind closely him.

"What'd he say-" I stopped speaking as Randy shook his head somberly.

"Randy, I have to-"

"Sh. He's sleeping. Come with me."

I followed Randy downstairs. He led me down through the kitchen and opened the door leading to the garage for me before closing it behind him. I flicked on the lights and perched myself on top of my dirt bike, staring over the handles at Randy. He scratched his head nervously from his spot on the top step.

"So what's going on?" I ask, patiently for once. Randy sighed.

"First of all, I'd just like to get it out that I'm totally not okay with this..."

"It's for his own good." I say. Randy just gives me a look. I'd been telling him this for a while now.

Like I said, Chris had been made a priority for too long, and because of it, I stupidly left some of my musi behind to suffer. Specifically a one Serge Mysterio. He'd admitted to me that he'd been feeling down in early December. His father had told him and Sunny around Thanksgiving that he most likely wouldn't have been able to talk to them for Christmas, though he'd try to send them both letters and a few surprises. Unfortunately, the packages must have gotten lost in the mail, as they never came in. The two siblings had really been looking forward to hearing from their dad, but I've got to say, as always, Serge took it the worst. Now, I find myself trying to revive my little floored luchador.

"Come on, Randy. I know he's your best friend, but he's my muse. I've got to know what's going on."

After a while, Randy sighed. He looked up at me and the words made their slow decent from his mouth.

"Honestly, there's not much to say. The kid misses his dad."

"I know that..." I groaned out, " But why is he so reluctant to talk to Rey, or even Sunny?"

At this, Randy rung his hands together tightly. I could see it plainly on his face that he didn't feel comfortable telling me all of his friend's secrets.

"The way I see it, it's a pride thing. He's worried that if Rey sees him feeling so down then he'll be disappointed. He won't let Sunny see him upset because he feels that as the older brother, he's to protect her, and not the other way around." Randy explained.

The first solution that came to my mind was to get Rey and Sunny and have them talk to Serge, but as I spoke this thought aloud, Randy was quick to disagree.

"Mikey, I promised Serge I wouldn't tell anyone. I already pushed it with you. Serge will tell Rey and Sunny when he's ready. For now, it's enough he's finally talking to me."

Randy, as always, had a point. One that in my immediate mind I doubted, but as his words finally set in, I had no choice but to take heed.

"So I'm guessing now isn't the perfect time for me to bring the topic up with him?"

It didn't take Randy a second to shake his head no. Sighing, I stood up and paced the room.

"So what should we do then? If we just go on like this little talk never happened, then Serge is going to stay down. A pissed off, mad at the world muse is one thing, but I refuse to have that kid moping around and feeling bad. Something has to change." I stopped my furious laps across the room and turned to look at Randy.

He looked up at me as a rough hand pawed over his face. He mumbled some words that sounded a lot like you're right and stood up.

"I'll talk to him. Try and get him to open up a little more. As for you," Randy began. He stared over my head as he though of words to say.

"Keep him distracted. Get him into a oneshot or some chapters of Ramblings. Put him on Publishing Crew duty. Make him take care of the pitts. Anything. Just don't let him close himself off, okay?"

I nodded an agreement, and with a new hope that Serge would feel better soon, Randy and I left the garage and went our separate ways.

XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoX

I sat at the kitchen table, my binder open and spread out in front of me. According to my checklist, there were things that needed updating that were not being updated. Gr.

"Mikey-Mikey-Miiiiiikey!" Mike burst through the door and began singing as he saw me.

An incomprehensible grunt left the back of my throat as an acknowledgement. I could hear Mike moving around the kitchen excitedly behind me. He whistled as he worked. Although I refused to look up at him, I could tell he was wearing a Cheshire grin. This was not good. Mike muse originally had two settings; which are grumpy and broody, and sarcastic and green. As of late, he's developed a third; giddy, sweet, and completely unMike-like. This worries me. I bet he's conspiring.

I feel his warmth brushing against my arm as he takes a seat next to me. From the corner of my eye, I'm not shocked to see he's found himself a bag of Doritos and a monster. He rustles around with his snack beside me and I'm shocked that for a pretty long while, small slurping sounds and a few crunches here and there are the only sounds he makes. Yeah, because this doesn't make me suspicious.

Finally, I take the time to look up at him. He doesn't have that usual arrogant air about him. It feels odd and a little nice, even. After a few seconds of me staring critically at him, his clear blue pools float up to meet my eyes.

"You feeling okay?" I ask after a while. I guess the look I gave him as I said these words was a bit unusual as he furrowed his brow before responding.

"Yeah. I'm fine...Are you okay?" He asked, cutting me a sideways glance.

I nodded absently.

"Anything I can help you with then?" Mike quickly shook his head at the offer.

"I had come down here to talk to you about my fic, but some interesting news reached my ears..." He said, tapping his hands against the table top.

"And that would be..." I urged him on as I flipped through my notes in the binder.

The amount of space between my question and Mike's answer felt like an eternity. He had yet to say a word, but as I turned to my usually loudmouthed muse, he seemed reluctant for once to let go of what was on his mind.

"I may be mistaken, but I heard that the hunt for Y2Jackass has officially been called off." His eyes, which had flown down to his hands as he played around with the chip bag were now focussed in on me.

After returning from the long trip away, I hadn't bothered to fill in the house on what had went down. All they needed to know was that Chris wasn't coming back. Not anytime soon, maybe even ever.

"No, you've got it right. You can try and nail jello to a tree all you want; it's never going to stay till it changes it's form," I mutter, raking a hand through my hair.

"I'm sorry, what?" Mike asked, dumbfounded.

His question never reached my inner mind as I drifted back to that moment in the dome. Chris had been there. He had been right in front of me, only an arm's length away. I'd never admit it aloud, but in that moment, I'd wanted to simultaneously slap him and kiss him. My first and head muse who I'd been missing for going on a year now had finally returned. Every bad thing I'd ever said to him, I'd have taken back if it meant he'd return home. I hate to say, but in that moment, I knew I did need him.

Chris though, without ever speaking a word, had made it exceedingly clear; despite how I felt, he would not be returning home. He was leaving and no amount of anything would change that.

"Mikey...Mikey, are you listening right now?"

Mike's mouth seemed to move animatedly in front of me. His wide blue eyes were concerned, but I brushed him off.

"Sorry, Mike. I'm just a little tired is all. I think I'll head in early..." I said gathering up my binder.

He called out a sweet dreams and I grinned softly as I headed upstairs. This sweet Mike was extremely odd, but very much so loveable. Reaching my room, I quietly slipped in and dropped my binder onto the floor before dropping myself on the bed. I laid back and stared up at the ceiling. I wasn't tired. Completely the opposite. In fact, I felt like I needed to get out. The problem was, I didn't know where to go.

In spite of my earlier statement, I soon found my eyelids getting heavy. A yawn escaped past my lips and without warning, I was out.

XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoX

The field was quiet and empty. The sun shone down across the pale blades of grass in the early morning. Despite it, darkness and shadows seemed to swallow the whole yard. The wind blew, causing a child's ball to roll lonesome across the ground before it began to bounce.

One lone desk sat in the otherwise empty classroom. A dim light partially illuminated the room, flickering every few seconds. Suddenly, a boy appeared. He sat at the desk, unmoving except for his hand which ran furiously across his composition book.

Without warning, a child, seemingly the boy's voice boomed throughout the room.

"Come my people and shut thy doors about thee. For a power shall come to punish the meek for their inequity. For on the second day of 2012, a familiar force shall arrive to claim what is his; and it will be the end of the world as you know it."

As the words were spoken, the child looked up from his writing. His pale eyes stared straight ahead and his face remained placid. No sooner had this happened; the boy, the classroom, and the field were gone. Nothing left. Nothing except for the two words that surfaced;

It begins.

XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoX

"Wake up!"

It felt as though my heart may have stopped for a moment before continuing to pump blood to the rest of my body as I woke with a start. The air around me wasn't filling my lungs fast enough. I could feel sweat plastering my clothes to my body, but I was freezing cold. I looked up and saw Wade and Stephen staring back at me worriedly.

"Mikey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm just-"

"You were thrashing around in your sleep like a mad, lass! You can't tell me that's a usual thing for you!" Sheamus interrupted me, and quite loudly, I might add. I opened my mouth to argue, but Wade cut in.

"In case you don't remember, we are the product of your mind and your top musi. It is nearly impossible for you to have a thought and successfully hide it from either one of us."

I stared straight ahead at Wade, a sneer on my otherwise beautiful face.

"That's a damn lie." I spat back at him. Wade narrowed his eyes in irritation towards me; his patented I'm right you're wrong look. After a moment, he gave in, shrugging.

"Okay, yeah, it is."

"But you were just whispering the words It Begins under your breath. Feel like explaining that one, eh?" Stephen asked, arms crossed over his chest.

My dreams had been plagued with the phrase. It was a nightmare I couldn't wake up from on my own. I shook my head no as an answer to Stephen.

"Lass, I was being nice about it. That wasn't actually a question. Speak." He commanded.

With a brisk laugh, I shook my head.

"Y'all will both think I'm crazy," I muttered.

Wade sat himself down at the foot of my bed and reclined back against my legs. Stephen pulled up my desk chair, planting himself on it beside me.

"If it makes you feel better, I don't think it's possible of me to think anything worse about you than I already have." Wade...comforted me, I guess...

Thinking over it, and considering all the words Wade and I have traded, he is more likely than not right. As for Stephen, he seemed unswayable. I could probably tell him I gunned a man down and he would think no less of me.

"I saw Chris at the dome," I finally admitted.

"That why you ran off the way you did?" Stephen asked me. I nodded.

"Well did he say anything?" Wade questioned.

"No. Not a damn thing..." I growled between gritted teeth.

The next question to leave either of their mouths was "Are you sure it was him?" This is why I hadn't thought of telling these two. I recall them being right behind me with every step I took. And the idea I was proposing did seem unlikely. Physically, we all three had been in the same place, at the same time. Somehow though, we ended up at completely different events, at completely different nights. I swore I was at an episode of Monday Night Raw. Stephen and Wade were at Monster Jam. In the center of the floor, I know for fact there had been a ring there. Wade and Stephen both say that nothing was there but dirt and trucks. Whatever it was I'd seen, was something that happened three years ago. Stephen and Wade can only recall the events of this morning. Chris Jericho had been only a breath away from me. Wade and Stephen had seen nothing. I didn't know what to make of it. When adding all of this up, I do seem crazy. Freaking psycho to be exact.
But he was there. I know it.

"Well what do you think it means?" Wade asked.

"There's nothing to think about. Chris made his point," I bit out again.

"But what about your dream?" Stephen asked.

"I don't know. After those promos last year, Chris returned on the second of January. Today's the 23. They're probably nothing."

I did believe they were probably nothing. I did not believe however, that they were over. I didn't want to go to sleep, in fear of having another dream. I didn't want to stay with Wade or Sheamus either though, knowing they'd just assault me with questions. What ended up happening was I sent them both to fetch Serge for me. Might as well set Randy's plan into motion, right? For hours, Serge and I sat awake, working on different stories in my room.

It was nearing two in the morning. I stared down at the page in my binder. It was mostly blank. I still fought to keep my eyes open. Leave it to me to keep struggling even in a losing battle. There's no way I could stay up much longer; each time I blink, it takes my eyes at least five minutes to open up again.

This is frustrating. Why aren't any words being written on the paper? Every time I close my eyes, I can see the paragraphs; words written out in sloppy print, floating off the lined pages in my binder and turning into actions that play out before me like a movie. When I open my eyes though, zip. Nothing. A blank sheet of paper. I have to write something down though. If I don't do it now, I'll lose it. Can't risk losing another thought...

"Mikey?"

My head shoots up and I stare wide eyes at the man across from me. I had forgotten that Serge was still there; trying, and obviously failing at helping me work on the fics. He stared at me intently; head cocked as I grunted out an acknowledgement.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked as he scooted closer to me on the bed. I looked on at him in confusion; his question not making that much sense to me in my tired state. I didn't answer him for a while and he came closer.

"What's wrong with you?" His voice was quiet. I gave another five minute long blink before answering sleepily.

"I'm tired..." I yawn. He nods at me.

"Me too," he sighs.

For the first time tonight; I notice the way each move he makes is delayed, the way he teeters on the edge of the bed, seemingly in danger of falling off. And I realize; Serge has never kicked an all nighter with me.

"Go to sleep then," I command him.

"You first," He shot back.

"Can't..." I groaned, "I need to write this stuff down now or it will never happen. You've helped enough, you can turn in now. Besides, you'll need energy for the most destructive time of day; breakfast."

He chuckles low in his throat.

"If you insist..." He yawns.

The bed creaks as he gets up and I manage to mutter a goodnight to him. As I look back down to my open binder, I wait for the soft click of the door being closed. Instead, I hear a second creak as he climbs over me and stretches out in his little spot between the wall and my body. One of his arms is thrown randomly across me. I stare down at him. I want to smack him so bad, but my arm is weighed down by sleep and it's too heavy to lift. So I settle for grimacing at the back of his head as he nuzzles my TMNT pillow.

"Sergio...This ain't what I meant, no," I say.

He sighs and starts to get up, but only to slam my binder shut before throwing it over the side of the bed. I peer down over the edge at it. The bright aqua binder and its colorful stickers pasted across the cover start to sink into the soft carpet. I consider reaching down to grab it, but you see my bed is pretty high off the ground. It's not like I could simply stick my arm out and pick it up. No, it would take a whole lot of bending, stretching, leaning, and reaching; all actions that I am not about to do. I glare down at Serge as he snuggles back down on the pillow.

"How rude," I mumble. He picks his head back up for a second, rubbing at his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," He says halfheartedly as he reaches over me again, one more time to flick off the lamp. We're left in total darkness and I feel his arm pressing across my torso as he forces me to lie down.

"Night Mikey," He mumbles, pressing his forehead to my shoulder. I sigh, settling down.

I was tired as hell. I couldn't bring myself to sleep though. Something just felt off. My mind wandered back to my earlier dreams. It begins...

Glancing at Serge, I saw that he was fast asleep. I slipped out of bed quietly. I tiptoed downstairs and pushed through the doors to the living room. It was dark. I flicked on the tv and lowered the volume as I laid back on the sofa. I couldn't hardly pay attention to Rob & Big on the set as my mind had drifted.

I had a lingering feeling. My dream was definitely of Chris' return promo from 2012. I couldn't figure out what it meant though.

"Why are you doing this to me..." I groaned.

"On Raw, you returned on the second of January," I said aloud, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"You came out for weeks after that, hyping up the crowd and giving them the Y2J they fell in love with in the 90's..."

I thought back to when I'd seen Chris at the dome. He'd known I'd wanted to see him; to talk to him. But he walked straight through me. That's when things finally made sense in my mind.

"You freakin trolled everyone, but-"

"But I never said a word until the January 23 episode."