I stand in the doorway of the darkened room, peering into the thick shadows until, suddenly, a shaft of moonlight pierces the darkness and illuminates him. My heart skips a beat and a strangled gasp escapes my lips.

He stands, head lowered, facing the doorway where I hover, arms at his side, feet apart, to he casual observer he appears not at all out of the ordinary.

Until one takes note of the deep purple of his chin-length hair, currently twisted into dozens of tiny braids, held back from his face by a black bandanna tied high around his forehead. And until one notices that his face, throat, half of his naked chest and his entire left arm are streaked with blue and silver paint that brings to mind Highland warriors of old preparing for battle.

A pair of loose-fitting black cargo jeans are belted low on his narrow hips, every ridge of his lean, defined muscles silhouetted in sharp relief by the moonlight slicing across his body. His head is lowered, as though looking at the floor, but I can feel his intense emerald eyes on me like a physical touch.

I take a step forward, shivering slightly. "Jeff...please don't..."

He gives a sharp shake of his head, his eyes never wavering. "No. They have to pay." He stares hard as I slowly approach him. " *I* have to make them pay." There is a slightly desperate tone in his smooth, accented voice that frightens me.

I hug my arms around my waist, shaking. Not if fear *of* him, but in fear *for* him. And, if I'm being honest, in fear for myself, because we've lost Matt...I don't know if I can survive if anything happens to take this incredible, beautiful, jaded yet innocent young man from me as well.

"No, Jeff...Matt wouldn't want that. He loved you, baby, he wouldn't want you torturing yourself like this...no one's to blame. Least of all you." I flinch when, at the mention of Matt's name, Jeff's eyes, wild and tortured, clench shut, the muscles in his strong, oddly-shaven jaw tightening even as his fingers, nails painted jet-black, curl into trembling fists.

I stand in front of him now and lift one hand to rest on his chest, his heat searing me, the soft, fine golden hairs dusting his smooth flesh tickling my sensitized fingers. I inhale sharply when his eyes snap open and the vivid green of his gaze pins me. "Please...don't do this..."

I can hardly bear to look at him, so beautiful, so intense, in such incredible pain...my very own avenging angel. It seems almost on the verge of sacrilidge to want him so badly. But I can't help it, everything in me responds so sharply to him.

Even now, my hand on his chest, placed there in comfort, of its own volition begins to move, my fingertips lightly stroking, caressing, tempted by the solid heat of him.

Jeff inhales sharply, breath hissing through his teeth, full sensual lips curling in a silent snarl. His eyes, blazing emerald fire, spark down at me. "Matt's dead." The first time he's said the words aloud and I feel the tightening of his muscles, as if his very body rejects the truth of it.

I nod, looking up at him sadly. I swear I see hell in those brilliant eyes. "Yes. He is. I'm so sorry, baby..." My hand lifts to touch his cheek, eyes seeing through the warpaint, seeing it for the mask from the pain that it is, knowing that beneath that mask he's hiding behind is a beauty unmatched by any man I've ever known. "I know you miss him, baby, we all miss him...but blaming somebody for what was an accident isn't going to bring him back." The emptiness I see in his eyes is so foreign to Jeff, that it brings tears to my own eyes. I've never seen Jeff's eyes so empty, so dull and lifeless...I have to wonder if it's even possible for him to recover from this loss.

Matt was always the one who made sense of life for Jeff, the strong, responsible one who happily, and with an indulgent smile, would guide the details of life while allowing his free-spirited baby brother to do what he did best...live. Without Matt to guide, love and shelter him, Jeff is lost, floundering, and I can see etched on his beautiful face that fear...fear of how on earth he is supposed to suddenly, at age 25, learn a new way of living life. Alone.

But he isn't alone, and suddenly neither are we as I sense another presence in the room. Turning my head, I see Adam in the doorway, tall and strong, concern on his handsome face and I swear I wish we could just have Adam wrap us both up in his strong, comforting arms and make this all go away.

Instead, I offer him a small "I need help" smile, and he nods slightly, entering the room and approaching us both.

Jeff glares darkly at him, sensing, I'm sure, that Adam is on the same mission I am...to stop Jeff from doing anything stupid.

Adam looks down at Jeff with sorrow in his eyes. "Hey, Jeffy."

Jeff flinches hard at that. Matt's pet name for him. His teeth clench. "Don't call me that." Gritting the words out.

Adam nods slowly. "I'm sorry, Jeff. Listen, I know..."

Suddenly, Jeff snatches away from us both, backing up,shaking his head furiously. "No...you *don't* know! Goddamn it and I wish to fucking god you people would stop saying that you *know, because you don't, you can't!!" I can see tears glinting brightly in his jewel-like eyes and my heart clenches.

He wipes furiously at the wetness streaming down his cheeks, smearing the paint across his jaw, still backing away from Adam and myself. He gives a short, hard, hollow laugh, lacking in anything resembling humor. "You know. You know. I love how people just throw that around. You don't know shit...well you know what?" He glares hard at us both. "Fuck you! Matt's fucking dead, goddammit..." his voice breaks and his face crumples a bit. "Goddammit...Matt's fucking dead...and I killed him...oh god, I killed him.." Sobs ripping from his throat as his knees buckle beneath him.

Adam catches him before he hits the ground, and wraps Jeff up in his arms, sitting on the floor with him and rocking like one would a child. I drop to my knees and lightly touch Jeff's head as, like a dam bursting under the strain, he sobs, clinging to Adam like a lifeline, harsh, ragged sobs tearing from his chest and ripping my heart out piece by piece. Adam's too, if the tears silently streaking down the Canadian's face are any indication.

I bite my lip hard. I'd thought the pain of Matt's death was enough...but the pure agony I felt radiating from Jeff is a new brand of torture I hadn't been prepared for and I can't stop shaking, terrified of his pain, terrified that there is nothing I can do to make that pain stop for him.

He's sobbing, body wracked with the rough sounds, breath coming in short, hard, broken pants,and I have never felt so helpless, wanting to scream with the impotent rage I feel welling up inside me...rage at the world, at fate, at a god who would do such a thing to this gentle, innocent, outrageously sensitive man.

Jeff is shaking in Adam's tight embrace, whispering broken words between sobs. I lean in to try and catch them, and feel my heart shred even more.

"Matt...oh god, Matt, I'm so sorry...I didn't mean it..." the words like a whispered prayer, barely audible, I'm sure he doesn't even realize he's speaking.

But I feel the need to respond, to try and make him understand. "Jeff...it's not your fault, baby, you didn't kill him...it was an accident, you didn't kill him..." A flash of memory, Matt lying broken outside the ring, sliced through my mind, bringing with it a fresh pain that stole my breath.

I know why Jeff blames himself...because it had been Jeff who'd gone to Bischoff and suggested that match with 3 Minute Warning, Jeff who suggested that the huge Samoans would be a perfect feud for the newly reunited Hardys. Jeff who'd watched, helplessly dangling from the tag belts above the ring, as Rosey shoved the ladder Matt was on over, sending his beloved older brother crashing to the ground, his head connecting with a sickening thud on the barrier wall before slumping on the concrete. And it had been Jeff who had crouched over Matt's broken body, staring horrified into his brother's eyes as the life slipped from him.

And as the three of us sit on the floor of Jeff's bedroom, Adam rocking him slowly as the sobs became sad, mewling whimpers,myself kneeling at Jeff's head, unable to do anything but pray violently for the nightmare to end...I somehow know that, even if we get Jeff through this night, even if the sun comes up in the morning and Jeff is still with us...

I sigh, suddenly awash with a hopeless exhaustion. We might get him through this one...but there is always another day. And another. And another. And I can't shake the feeling that once we all begin to return to our lives, as we inevitabely must, Jeff isn't going to be ok. I don't know if he ever will be...and the fear that grips me is icy with dread as I am fillied with a sudden premonition that it won't be long at all before Jeff will find a way to be with his brother again.

Because Matt was the one who made sense of life for Jeff. Without Matt...without Matt Jeff won't be able to see the path in front of him. And that was all of our faults. Because we'd all laughed and smiled and joked about how Jeff was Peter Pan and how Matt had never made him grow up, we'd smiled indulgently right along with Matt as Jeff flew through life, seemingly never aware of the mundane details everyone else had to deal with...because Matt took care of those trivial things for him. And *that* is what's going to take Jeff from us as well.

And I curl around Jeff and Adam, my heart a hard, iron lump in my throat. We sleep then, exhausted and drained and too weak to move to the bed, we sleep curled on the carpet. Waiting for another day.
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