/The leather of his father's jacket felt oddly comforting against Sean’s cheek. It was a familiar sensation, as was the ceaseless howl of the air around them and the motorcycle. Hell, it was the only constant he really had anymore, not with his father unable to stay in the same place for more than a few months without getting restless. But that was okay to him. At ten years old, he'd spent the last four years of his life living this way, ever since Mom...-

Shaking his head fiercely, Sean sat up. He didn't want to think about her. He'd spent too much time repressing that particular part of his past to let it get to him now. Trying to distract himself, he glanced down at the ground and noted that they were slowing down. He raised a questioning look  towards his father, but all he could see of the older man was the long, graying ponytail that still whipped in the dying wind. Obviously his father wasn't in the mood to explain himself. With a frustrated sigh, Sean looked around himself for the first time and froze.

The land was... wrong. Completely empty. Not in the normal way of cornfields and plains, just a complete pane of featureless gray. The silence was suddenly oppressive, the emptiness of the landscape crushing. Sean looked towards his father hopefully and saw-/

The ceiling.

The shrieking, jarring wail of the alarm clock continued ruthlessly in the background as Sean blinked dazedly for a moment. Even as he lay there, the dream was slipping away. With an annoyed sigh, he sat up and smacked the alarm, effectively shutting it up.

"Damned hotel alarms," he muttered at it for good measure. "Already had a goddamned headache, you didn't need to make it worse."

The alarm was less than sympathetic.

Granting it a final glare, Sean got out of bed reluctantly and immediately staggered. Startled, he caught a death grip on the bedstand and stood there for a moment until the room stopped spinning quite so fast. When it did, he leaned back with a curse. It figured that this would happen now when there was about a three week string of house shows and public appearances ahead of him.

"I'm not sick," he told the empty room. "I refuse to be sick. Not gonna happen." After a moment, he added, "And maybe one of these days I'll learn not to talk to myself."

A series of knocks on the door made him refocus his attention. "Hey, Waltman, we're going to breakfast. You coming or not?" It was obvious even through the door that Jesse was mildly annoyed by the delay.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting there!" Pulling a shirt over his head, Sean gave the jeans he'd fallen asleep in a cursory glance before he shrugged and went out anyway.

Maybe if he'd been paying closer attention, he would've noticed that yesterday's ‘temporary’ migraine was slowly intensifying behind his eyes. Maybe he'd have felt the fever starting to burn.

But Sean Waltman wasn't one to pay attention to warnings.
---
Breakfast with Degeneration X could be described in several ways. If one felt particularly polite, it was ‘entertaining’. If not, it was ‘like eating at a junior high school’, which wasn't all that generous to the junior high schoolers. However, one thing could be said for it: it was never boring.

"Ow!" Billy Gunn protested loudly as Jesse cracked the handle of the butter knife down on his knuckles. Yanking back his hand, he glared at Jesse. "Jesus, that was excessive."

Undaunted, Jesse speared his eggs with a fork and replied without looking up, "If you'd stop trying to steal my food and just got your own, I wouldn't have to hit you with the silverware. We've been over this."

"Oh, come on, what would the challenge in that be?" Billy looked towards Hunter, who was occupied with his coffee. "See, he agrees with me."

"Eh?" Hunter replied profoundly, raising his eyes. Before Billy could launch into a diatribe about the injustices inflicted on him by his partner, Hunter looked towards the door and half-smiled in greeting. "Hey, kid."

Sean nodded a greeting and slid into the seat beside Hunter. "Morning."

Sensing an opportunity, Billy coaxed, "Hey, Jess, it's Waltman. You wanna say hi or something... possibly look up...?"

Jesse didn't do either. "Forget it, Billy. You're not distracting me so you can get my food."

"Damn it."

Smoothly stealing Billy's coffee while Gunn was otherwise occupied by mock-scowling at Jesse, Sean asked, "So, anything happen while I was out seducing Nicole Kidman?"

Hunter laughed. "Riiight. And the color of the sky in your little world is...?"

"Hey, it could happen. Speaking of women-"

"We weren't."

"Pretend we were. Where's Chyna?"

Before Hunter could answer, the conversation was interrupted by a tinny ringing. Jesse gave a startled jolt, then pulled a cel phone out of his pocket. Putting it to his ear, he inquired "H'lo?" There was a pause. "Yeah, he's right here. Just a sec." Jesse tossed the phone to Sean. "It's for you."

Hunter raised an eyebrow speculatively. "Mind explaining why Sean's getting called on your phone?"

"Because it's mine and I'm just lending it to him. I'll be back in a sec." Getting up with a wince, Sean added with a lopsided smirk, "Hey, Billy, you can have your coffee back. Tastes awful anyway."

"Hmm?... Hey! Brat!"

Laughter was Sean's only response before he stepped outside.

Stepping into the dull, heavy heat outside, Sean leaned against the brick wall by the door and put the phone to his ear. There was still a ripple of laughter in his voice as he asked, "Hello?"

The voice of the caller was male, tense and oddly familiar. "Is this Sean Waltman?"

"Yeah, that's me," Sean replied easily, looking towards the sky. It was a flat plane of gray, which reminded him of something, but he couldn't remember exactly what. Looked like a storm was coming. "Who's this?"

"My God," the caller half-whispered. His voice was shaking like he was about to lose it completely. "It is you. But you don't remember me- Never mind, of course you don't, it's been so long..."

Cutting off the man's babble, Sean repeated patiently, "Who is this?" Damn, the guy was starting to get really emotional. If he started crying, it was beyond time to hang up.

"It's... it's your dad."

The words couldn't have been more powerful if they'd been occupied by a punch to the stomach. Sean stared at the windshield of the nearest car without actually seeing it, unable to even form a reply. His mind was too busy desperately searching for excuses for this to be fake. It had to be just a prank, or a sick joke, or an insane fan...

"Sean?" his father was saying anxiously. "Son-"

Something inside him snapped back into place as soon as he heard that word, finally giving him the strength to get words out. "Don't call me that."

"But you are-"

"No. I've got nothing to do with you, not anymore. It's been fifteen years, you son of a bitch, how dare you call me now?" Sean didn't wait for an answer. "Y'know what, never mind. I don't even want to know. The fact that you even had the balls to call me is enough for me to figure that out. You can go to hell."

He hung up on his father’s startled protest. As soon as the phone clicked shut, he slid down the wall to sit on the ground like the anger had been the only thing keeping him standing.

Burying his face in his hands, he muttered, "Why now? Why did this have to happen now? Fuck!"

No answer was forthcoming. After several long moments of dealing with the anger and the pain he'd tried to get rid of years ago and that seemed determined not to be thrown aside again, Sean climbed to his feet. He knew, with a tired sort of resignation, that it was far from over. His father was a stubborn old bastard. Or maybe that had changed in fifteen years. Hell, Sean certainly had, and not necessarily for the better. Still, the old man would let this one go. The smart thing to do was to let the other guys know what was going on and to take the next couple of days off to deal with this.

Even the concept of trying to explain this sent a twist of old pain through him. 'Yes, guys, my dad called me. The same guy who decided I wasn't worth the effort of sticking around for, and fucked up the rest of my life by doing it. Hey, who could blame him, huh?'

Right. That would go over real well.

No, better to keep the sordid Waltman family history to himself as long as he could. The others had enough to deal with anyway. Not like they'd do any heavy prying to find out about it. No one ever had. Why should they break the pattern?

Brushing the dust off his jeans, Sean put on his best masking smile and walked back into the comforting darkness of the restaurant. His head was suddenly pounding.
---
Something was wrong.

Sitting at the club's overcrowded bar, Hunter toyed absently with the mostly empty beer bottle as he ran through the reasons for his nagging uneasiness. Over the last couple of months, he'd learned that it was generally a good idea to listen to his instincts. When he didn't, things went badly. Besides, DX hadn't lasted this long by having a completely oblivious idiot as a leader. Hunter took it as his responsibility to notice and fix these problems before they got out of control.

So, the evidence. Hunter took a sip of beer, mused a moment before he finally settled on something concrete. Sean's timing had been off during his match. Not badly enough that he'd thought about it until now, but badly enough that it had cost the kid a few moves and repaid him with several bruises. It wasn't like Waltman to get distracted during matches, but that was apparently what had happened tonight.

Then again, now that Hunter was thinking about it, something had been off about Sean since breakfast. He'd quietly ignored Billy's attempts to needle him about the call, which Gunn avidly claimed was from his girlfriend, and had looked rather preoccupied until about an hour later. It had been around noon when he'd finally regained that trademarked 'no caffiene required' Sean energy, and even there had been something slightly wrong about it. It was almost like the kid had felt obligated to act that hyper. Like he was hiding something.

Well, that narrowed it down, anyway. It was Sean. Hunter swore under his breath. Why did it have to be Waltman? Getting through to the kid would be twice as difficult as reaching one of the others. If it had been Jesse, Hunter could've had Billy attempt to pry the information from him, and vice versa. If it had been Chyna, Hunter could've fixed it himself. But not Sean. He had the annoying tendency to hold himself slightly apart from the rest of the group. There, but not close enough to touch. You could count of him, but he'd never be the one you named as the closest person to you. Sean seemed to have arranged it that way, for reasons only he would ever understand.

Yes, dealing with this problem was going to be harder than Hunter had planned on. Damn. He needed to think, and the strobe lights and cigarette smoke weren't helping. Time to go find the others and get out of here.

He found them sitting at a booth, apparently out of energy. Jesse and Billy were, anyway. Sean was still moving at full tilt, talking rapidly and making restless gestures with his hands. In the flickering half light he looked pale, wild, and strained almost to the breaking point. God, how had he overlooked that? Even Jesse was watching Sean with quiet concern.

Striding to the table, Hunter leaned over Billy's shoulder. "You guys ready to go yet, or what?"

"Yep," Jesse replied immediately. "All the good looking women have gone home already."

"I could stay," Sean shot back, grabbing on to the edge of the table like he expected to be dragged.

With a half-laugh, Billy reached across the table to rumple Sean's hair lightly. "You look ready to drop and I don't wanna hafta carry you home. I don't think that'd get me any dates." He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Then again, I've never tried that one."

“Only because I wouldn’t let you,” Jesse put in, punching his arm lightly.

Sean reluctantly let go of the table, looking slightly sulky, but there was a genuine uneasiness in his eyes. Uneasiness, hell; the kid seemed scared of something. Something that could spook Sean was not something Hunter wanted to screw around with.

Concealing his concern, Hunter slid an arm around Sean's shoulders and began to pull him out of the club. Behind them he could faintly hear the Outlaws going off on a private tangent about something. Under his arm, Sean felt shaky and too warm. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

Sean nodded and gave him a bright, false smile. "I'm okay. It's just warm in here."

'I'll bet', Hunter thought sourly. 'So why are you shivering?' Craning his head back to peer over his shoulder, Hunter said casually, "We've gotta talk about something later, Jess."

Startled, Jesse flicked a glance at Hunter then tilted his towards Sean, raising his eyebrow in a silent question. When Hunter nodded, he replied easily, "All right."

Billy, who either hadn't noticed or had just ignored the exchange, laughed and poked Jesse in the ribs playfully as he sing-songed "You're in trou-ble..."

Normally, Sean would've at least turned to look as Jesse whapped Billy in the head. Instead, he remained where he was. One more symptom for Hunter to notice. The kid was trying to hide something, but he was leaving so many cracks in the facade...

Cracks that Hunter was going to take advantage of, whether Sean liked it or not.
---
The silence in the small, mostly empty hotel's hallway at three am was oppressive. There were no arguments muffled through the doors, no hum of traffic outside, not even the squeak of bedsprings. It was enough to make Sean yet more on edge.

The fact that he'd managed to slip out of the hotel room without waking Hunter was a small miracle, but that hadn't occurred to him at the time. All he'd been concerned about was getting the hell out of there. The heat, the silence, the remains of the nightmare had combined into something that probably would've driven Sean to hyperventilating if he'd stayed there for one more moment. He had been restlessly pacing the hallway ever since. It wasn't helping.

The sudden touch of a hand on his back made him start and wheel around to face its owner. In the half light of the hall, all he could make out was pale skin and braided hair.

"Jess?" he asked anxiously, squinting at him.

Jesse nodded, leaving his hand where it was. "Hey, since you're up, I kinda need to talk to ya."

Bewildered, Sean tilted his head but compliantly followed Jesse to the lobby. The small lobby was deserted and lit only by the streetlights from the parking lot, throwing the entire room into shadow and weak light. Seating himself on the carpet, Sean asked, "Something up?"

"Yeah, actually. Y'see, we're having a little problem with somebody on the team. Nice guy, but lately he's getting distracted and we're starting to worry. We'd kinda like to know what's the problem."

Sean gave a wry smirk and studied the floor. "I don't suppose you're talking about Billy or Hunter."

"What's going on with you, Sean?" Jesse asked seriously, leaning forward to try to catch his eyes. "If you're in trouble or something, you need to tell us."

"Yeah, I know, I know." Rubbing at his face wearily with his fingertips, Sean sighed. "Look, it's not bad enough for you guys to get worried. I won't let it affect you guys. It's just been a really long string of house shows, that's all."

"You sure?" When Sean nodded quickly, Jesse sat back and with audible doubt in his voice said, "Okay. I believe you. But if it gets bad, you better come and tell one of us, all right? We're here for you. You know that."

"I'll tell you if it get worse," Sean repeated in a monotone, rolling his eyes.

"You promise me that," Jesse commanded with unusual sternness. When Sean hesitated,  he held out his hand expectantly and repeated, "You promise me, damn it."

"Fine! I promise you. You'll hear from me if it gets too bad." Taking Jesse's hand, Sean gripped it once better letting go. "There. Happy now?"

"Yep. I'm going back to bed." Jesse stood, thoroughly messed up Sean's hair, and dodged out of the way of the mock-punch the younger man threw at him. "Don't stay out here all night, all right?"

"Yes, Mom."

Despite the playful banter, both of them went away from the encounter uneasy. The lie weighed heavily on Sean's mind and even though he returned to his room, sleep didn't come to him again. A decision did, instead. Part of what he told Jesse had been true: he had no intention of letting this affect the others. It was time to deal with it. It was time for him to get answers from his father.
---
"Tell me."
 
Sean sat on the front steps of the arena, cel phone nestled between his ear and his shoulder. His arms were wrapped around his knees, both to block the wind and to brace himself against the pain he knew was coming. That was why he was taking care of this outside. Less stuff to be damaged out here. Only his heart, if he still had one.

"Sean?" The old man sounded startled. He probably hadn't expected any contact. So he was the only one allowed to be in control of the conversations? Yeah. Right. "What do you want?"

"I want answers, mostly. Like why you left. Or why you waited until now to call. I think you owe me at least that."

"You're right." His father exhaled shakily. "I do owe you that. It's a long story, kid..."

"I've already waited this long."

"Right." Through the phone, he could hear the old man shift uncomfortably. "Well, you remember how it was. We drove around a lot. I couldn't stay anywhere for more than a few months, not after your mother-"

"I know this part," Sean cut in impatiently. "Tell me something I don't know already."

Pausing for only a moment, the old man continued, "It was no life for a kid. Your aunt offered to take you and... God, this is going to make me sound like a bastard. I needed to be free for a while. You understand what I mean, right? I couldn't take the responsibility. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. So... so I left you there."

And so he left him there. It sounded so simple. So understandable. Poor man, having his spirit stifled like that.

Sean closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his head against the metal handrail. He wanted to hang up- the answers would only get worse from here- but felt frozen in place.

"Son?" His father asked tentatively. "Are you there?"

"I'm here." Even to himself, his voice sounded lifeless. "I asked other questions. Why the wait? Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

A shaky breath sounded over the phone. This was hurting the old man. Poor him. "I couldn't. It was wrong of me, I know... but I was too afraid to tell you I was leaving. If I looked at you, I couldn't have left. Maybe that would've been better for both of us." Another pause. Then, the words came flowing abruptly from his father like blood from a wounded man. "I missed you, you know. I nearly went back for you three times. I kept up with your career. I-I have tapes of almost all of your matches, from when I found out who you were. When I heard how you were fired by that Bischoff guy, I flooded their offices with complaints. I tried, damn it! I tried to make up for everything."

A flicker of anger finally reached past the wall of shock that Sean had been buffered by, touching off an explosion that had been waiting for fifteen years. "So where were you when I needed you? Hiding behind those tapes, telling yourself that you made everything all better!"

"I couldn't reach you. All the foster homes they shuffled you through because of the trouble you caused... I eventually gave up searching after the sixth one. It was too much... I have a life now, Sean!" His father was babbling, almost hysterical with excuses.

Sean cut him off ruthlessly. "If you were so convinced that it was too much trouble, why the hell didn't you leave me alone? You have your life, I have mine, we're both happy and oblivious. I don't need you anymore!"

"You want to know why I called? I have a new wife now-"

"I don't want to hear this."

"I have other two kids. You've got half-sisters."

Sean hung up and let the phone slip from his fingers. It hit the stairs harmlessly, clattering to the ground. Burying his face in his legs, he struggled to regain his calm. His instincts had been right. He hadn't wanted to know the answers. All they'd done was confirm what everyone had told him all along.

It had been his fault.

The need to take are of him had driven his father away. His own defiance at the foster homes had kept the old man from coming after him. And now... hell, he wasn't even sure it had been the responsibility that caused the old man to run. It certainly hadn't kept him from having two other kids. Add up the evidence and it basically pointed to one thing.

His fault.

No. No way. That couldn't be it, right? After all, the other guys were there for him... Jesse, Billy, Hunter. They wouldn't just ditch him.

 Or maybe they could. Perhaps it was just a matter of time before he got too annoying or too attached or too something. And then it would all be over.

He didn't know how long he sat there. When a gentle touch jerked him out of his thoughts, his shoulders were aching from holding his position too long and his fingers were numb from the wind. Startled, he looked back at Billy, who stood behind him.

"Hey, you got a match, remember?" With a friendly tap on Sean's shoulder, Billy asked, "Are you ready?"

Sean stared at him for a moment. The numb shock and the pain slowly merged into something dangerous and oddly soothing. Yeah, he was hurting. But someone else would be hurting too. He could give as good as he got...

Billy didn't particularly like the wicked grin Sean gave as he replied, "I'm ready." It looked more like a snarl.
---
No one saw it coming.

Sean had gone out to the ring with an odd calm about him. There was none of the usual, playful bounce in his walk, no toying with the fans. He had a grim, cynical smirk on his face as he watched Bossman pace around the ring. He didn't acknowledge the pat on the back that Jesse gave him, too occupied by staring almost hungrily at Bossman to notice as he took the stairs into the ring. For the first few moments, everything seemed somewhat normal.

When the bell rang, Sean exploded into violence.

Throwing himself at the Bossman, he took them both gracelessly down to the mat. Once there, he began pummeling him viciously, aiming for the face. His nails raked across the older man's eyes and Bossman howled until the ref finally forced them apart.

Ignoring Hebner's reprimands, Sean took a few steps back and waited for Bossman to dazedly get back to his feet before delivering a spinning heel kick. The other man's head snapped to the side with dangerous force, and he fell to the mat again. Rolling away from Sean's kicks into his ribs, he used the ropes to stagger back up. Then, unexpectedly, he lashed out and decked Sean, forcing the younger man back a few steps and allowing himself time to recover. Stepping back, Sean put a hand to his mouth and studied the blood on his fingers. The taste of it was sharp and coppery in his mouth.

Bossman had hurt him. Bossman would pay.

Mistaking Sean's hesitation as a weakness, the older man moved forward to get a hold of Sean's hair and pull him into a move. Sean darted to the side, and, using the shoulder strap of Bossman's ring gear, yanked him into a headlock. Before he could pull away, Sean swiftly reverse-DDTed him. Bossman jerked once, and was still.

From beside him, Sean could hear the ref telling him to make the pin. Instead, he rose unsteadily to his feet and stood, looking down at the Bossman. The bigger man was bleeding from three places, curled up on himself on the mat, not aware of Sean standing over him. Sean could have the pin. He could win this one and walk away.

He didn't want to walk away.

Driving his foot into Bossman's side with a force that startled even himself, Sean snarled, "Get up. Get up, you sorry bastard! Get up!"

Bossman moaned and curled in on himself defensively, trying to block his side from the blows. Staring down at him for a moment longer, Sean sneered and let himself be pulled back by the ref. Instead of waiting for Bossman to recover, however, he backed away and climbed through the ropes. He knew what he wanted.

The metal folding chair was propped up against the guardrail. Sean prowled to it like a stalking animal, picking it up and weighing it for a moment before looking towards the ring. As soon as the crowd saw what he was doing, the hysteria went up a notch in the arena.

They wanted blood. They wanted the Bossman to pay. Sean was in control. He was the one doing the hurting for once. The steel chair felt cold underneath his hands, like the apathy felt cold against his mind. With a twisted smirk that was more bitter than amused, Sean turned to go back into the ring-

And collided, hard, with Jesse.

Jesse pulled the chair out of his hands and threw it down, then grabbed Sean by the arm. "What in the hell do you think you doing?" he demanded incredulously.

Sean froze, reality coming back fast and hard as a slap across the face, and realized that he didn't have an answer.

Looking towards the ring, Sean realized with numb shock that the Bossman was still laid out. Both the ref and Jesse were staring at him, stunned, expecting some kind of explanation. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hunter and Billy standing on the entryway. Waiting.

Sean wrenched his arm out of Jesse's grip and backed away into the guardrail. For a moment he stood there, holding on to the rail for support. Without it, he had the sudden feeling that he was going to fall. His eyes wouldn't focus on anything; the sound of the crowd seemed like it was coming from underwater. It felt like he was drowning.

He had to get out of here.

Vaulting over the rail, Sean ducked into the crowd and bolted, slipping through the mob of bodies as quickly as he could manage and praying that no one would follow.
---
The club was a mass of writhing bodies. It reeked of smoke and sweat, beer and pot, sex and delirium. The young "lady" seated across from him was smoking a joint, a crackpipe stuffed in the jacket of her coat. She wore the coat to hide it, even though the heat was feverish.

Around them, dancers swirled and struggled and writhed in desperation. They came here to forget. They came lose themselves in a place of living delirium. Some of them left. Some of them remained, because it was better than the ‘real world’. It didn't matter to the club owners as long as they got paid. Sean knew these rules too well.

"Hey, sweetheart. You want some?"

Sean looked away from watching the crowd to eye his momentary companion, who was smiling coyly and offering her joint. Even under the dull lights of the club, she was unattactive, with too much makeup, and too much greasy, hairsprayed hair. The smell of drugs slid off her. Under normal circumstances, he would have stayed the hell away from her.

Then again, under normal circumstances he'd be curled up under the hotel blankets trying to sleep off this unnatural exhaustion and listening to Hunter bawl him out for not taking care of himself, alternately cursing at him and reassuring him that it'd be okay. He wanted to be there instead, in that imaginary scene. He couldn't be. It wouldn't happen, not after what happened at the arena. They'd want answers, answers that would only serve to piss them off or make them pity him.

Sean was sick of pity. Especially self-pity.

Pushing the joint gently aside, he told her, "No, thanks."

She caught hold of his hand and, with a sick smile that was supposed to be seductive but ended up being slightly pathetic, purred, "You want me?"

Startled, Sean blinked at her. "I don't think-"

"You think too much," she retorted, still smirking. "You have such sad eyes, darlin. I can make it all go 'way."

Sean stared at her hand on his arm, feeling oddly detached from the situation. Her red-painted nails were curled over his arm like claws, prepared to grip and drag him if he didn't go with her.

He had heard her offer hundreds, thousands of times before. It was never true; nothing could make him forget. Tonight, though, her offer was unexpectedly tempting. She wanted to make it all go away. That was what he had come here looking for, wasn't it? A chance to forget for a while. A quick drink, a quick lay, something commitment free that would make it stop. Something that would let him slip away in the morning.

Like his father.

Quickly switching the woman's grip on his arm, he wrenched her wrist around. She gave a delighted squeak of pain.

"Let's go," he said, with a smile that made him feel sick inside. This drove her into a giggling fit before she unexpectedly dove across the table to mash her lips against his. She tasted like the marijuana she had just been smoking, which did nothing for the sick wrench in his gut. Something in the back of his mind recoiled, telling him that this was wrong. It wouldn't solve anything.

Fuck solving things.

Shoving the last shred of rationality down, Sean purposely cleared his mind and threw his arms around the girl's too-soft waist. 'It doesn't matter', was his silent mantra. 'Don't think about it, don't think, don'tthinkdon'tthinkdon'tthink...'
---
When Sean finally slunk into the hotel, his hands shaking so badly that it was nearly impossible to get the door open, it was five in the morning. His stomach was tight with nausea, even though he'd already thrown up twice staggering back here. The smell of the woman- God, he didn't even know her name…- lingered on his skin like a silent accusation. He'd never see her again. It didn't matter.

Even though he'd been exhausted to the point of collapse, the only sleep he got was restless, wracked with nightmares. Night had left him on the edge of the abyss.
 
Morning would push him straight over the ledge.
---
Things in the Degeneration X locker room were tense.

All of them knew that Sean hadn't gotten in until an unholy hour in the morning, and had just ignored them all ever since. The few times that Hunter had tried to talk to him, all he'd received for his trouble was a dark, silent glare before Sean pulled away.

This was completely new ground. Even after his 'dismissal' from WCW, Sean hadn't lashed out. Now, he was lashing out with a vengeance, and his terse attitude had spilled over into the rest of the team. The Outlaws had tried for their usual banter, but it only made the silence seem more intense. Finally, the locker room had fallen into an uneasy silence, filled with Jesse and Hunter exchanging the occasional wary glance whenever they thought Billy or Sean weren't looking. With every minute that passed, the pressure built. Something was bound to explode. When the confrontation finally came, it was from an unexpected corner.

With a sudden, vicious motion, Billy threw the ring boot in his hand against the lockers, producing a loud bang that made the others flinch and look up at him. His tone unusually sharp, Billy demanded quietly, "What in the fuck is going on here?"

"Nothing," Hunter replied immediately, watching Billy warily.

"Right. Don't bullshit me, Hunter. Something’s wrong." Turning his attention to Sean, who was facing the locker like his was frozen in place, Billy added, "And it's got something to do with him."

Jesse spoke up half-heartedly. "Leave the kid alone."

"No, I think we've tried that and obviously it ain't working too well." Billy got up from the bench and moved to stand right behind Sean, deliberately invading his personal space. "What's going on with you?" he asked in a low, angry voice. "Two days ago you were fine. Yesterday you flipped out and went after Bossman with a chair, which would’ve been fine by me, but then you took off. When you came back, you smelled like pot and the perfume off some cheap whore. And now everything's fine? I don't think so. Jesse and Hunter might be living in some little denial world about this, but I’m not. I want to know what the hell is going on before you get all of us killed, or you get yourself hurt."

Sean went dangerously still, tension vibrating in his lean shoulders.

In a threatening growl, Billy demanded, "You even listening to me? Huh?" Grabbing a hold of Sean's arm, he forced him around and slammed him against the lockers- then froze.

Sean's arm under his fingers was unnaturally warm, feverishly hot. Immediately loosening his grip on Sean's shoulder, Billy stepped back. "Jesus, kid, you're burning up-"

He never finished his sentence. As soon as let go of Sean’s arm, Sean decked him.

The force of the punch knocked Billy back a few feet. He fell to the floor heavily, clutching at his eye with a colorful curse. In a moment, Jesse had vaulted over the bench and was kneeling at his side. Billy pushed him away slightly, muttering, "I'm okay, I'm fine." The wince on his face as he gingerly touched the bruise forming over one eye told another story.

Stunned, disbelieving, Hunter looked towards Sean, tensed up in case Sean decided to go after someone else. Sean seemed far from ready to attack them. Instead, he was pressed up against the door, his skin an unhealthy shade of pale and his breath coming in gasps. His eyes were dark and wild, flicking from Hunter to the Outlaws as if he expected them to attack

Hunter took a step back, both hands raised in surrender. In a low, coaxing voice he murmured, "Sean. Just calm down. Take it easy, we're on the same side here-"

"Are we?" Sean shot back. "Is that how it is?"

Puzzled, his voice warm with concern. Jesse asked, "The hell are you talking about, kid? You know that's how it is. Nothing's changed. You're just sick, you're seeing things that ain't there."

Sean gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah. It's my own fault. Seems like it always is." The laugh turned into a painful cough that doubled him over, leaving him weak. As it passed, Sean sank against the door heavily. In a near whisper, he said, "You shouldn't have touched me. Never should've... God, what's wrong with me?"

Sensing an opening, Hunter took a tentative step forward. For a moment, it seemed like it might work. Sean leaned against the door, head down, desolate and more than slightly out of it. As Hunter was within arms length, his head shot up and he slid away from him.

"Don't," Sean snarled defensively. "Just don't."

"It's not like he's gonna hurt you," Jesse spoke up from Billy's side, watching them both uneasily. "Like he said, we're on the same side-"

"Maybe I don't want to be," Sean snapped. "What if I want out? Huh?"

There was silence

"You don't mean that," Hunter said finally, desperately.

 "Oh, I mean that." Emphasizing each word ruthlessly, Sean said, "My shirt's over there. You can take it. You can keep it. Burn it, for all I care. I'm getting the hell out of here."

"You think we're gonna let you leave?" Hunter demanded, his voice dangerously level.

"What are you gonna do, Helmsley?" Sean’s was both insult and challenge. "I'm leaving. Anybody who comes after me is going to be hurt. But hey, don't worry about it. You and I know you aren't going to go through that much trouble to pull me back."

"Kid-" Billy began desperately from the floor, but it was too late.

With one final, vicious slam of the door, Sean was gone.
---
The hotel room suddenly seemed far too small. Three hours of pacing tended to do that.

/Well, kid, I did what you wanted me to. I waited to call a security. Waited an entire minute and a half./ Hunter sighed and raked a hand through his hair. /I guess that was all the time you needed./

Vince's "professional" security team had proved up to their regular standards. They'd searched the building, but Sean was gone.

/Not GONE gone/, he told himself fiercely. /Just out. He'll come back. Like last night, we didn't know where he was and he showed up./

/But last night he didn't quit first./

Pushing the thought away, Hunter shoved his hands into his pockets and looked toward the second bed. The New Age Outlaws were still sprawled there where they'd collapsed about an hour earlier to take a 'short' nap. Neither of them had woken back up since. Jesse was propped up against the headboard, head cushioned against the wall behind him. Beside him, Billy was half curled up on his side, his face laying against one hand like a little kid's. The bruise over his eye was getting darker, but it didn't seem like anything had been permanantly damaged. Jesse had still needed to hover, and for once Billy had tolerated it without much complaint. That was proof right there of how on edge they all were.

Yet somehow those two had managed to get some sleep, trusting him to keep an eye on things.

Christ. He couldn't handle this. Wasn't losing Sean sign enough of that? What if he screwed up with the rest of the team... hell, the family, he may as well call it what it was. Which would make Sean the prodigal. Yeah, better to put it like that, at least that made it sound like the kid was coming back.

/He IS,/ Hunter told himself ferociously, digging his nails into his palms until he drew blood as he started pacing again, like it was going to help something. /He'll be back./

/He has to be./
---
End.