"Get the fuck out of my hedge!"

With a burst of adrenaline-fueled laughter and an explosion of greenery, a muscular but wiry man dressed in torn up jeans, a studded black vest, and chucks rolled out of the old woman's aforementioned hedge. He tugged the bandana he wore on his head back down as he stood up, ducking a well-aimed frying pan as it flew out the open door towards him. Still snickering, he darted across the street and back to the safety of his three friends.

Lars shook his mohawk-crowned head, smirking slightly. "Aren't you a little old for that shit, Tim?"

"My name's Lint," the other man reminded him, earning a concerned glance from the stout, black-haired bassist that was behind them. "And you're never too old for hedgediving!"

The four continued to their destination, somehow keeping Tim (or Lint) out of anymore hedges along the way. Brett pulled the door to the venue open, which was eerily quiet and almost vacant. As they all shuffled inside, the only other occupant glanced up from the table where he was sitting, reading a magazine.

"You guys are early," the tall, orange-haired kid greeted them. "But I guess it really doesn't fuckin' matter. You can help me set up."

Matt arched an eyebrow, looking down at the kid even though he was shorter. "Oh, we can, can we? And you are...?"

"Wendy," the kid told him with no further explination.

"Right," Matt continued, unimpressed. "Well, I'm Matt, and this is Lars, Brett and Tim -"

"Lint!"

"I know who you are," Wendy told him with a self-appreciative smirk. "A bunch of washed- up sellouts."

Lars coughed to cover up the disbelieving gasp that came with Wendy's comment, and Matt lifted a hand as if to tell Lars to stay cool. Brett merely shifted on his feet, after all, he's Brett, and he drums, and that's about it. He probably won't have anymore influence on this story.

"Yeah, washed-up sellouts that are releasing their sixth album, which would be the reason for this release party," Matt clarified for Wendy. "Now we don't have any problem with helping you set up, but an attitude like that isn't going to get you anything."

After a brief, silent Mexican standoff, Wendy shrugged. "All right, congratulations, way to go," he muttered carelessly. "Now c'mon, I need help with the sound system."

Wendy sauntered off in the direction of the stage without another word. Matt glanced at Tim, who had now started hopping around singing 'Sound System' loudly while playing air guitar, then looked at the other two and shrugged.

"Cockass," Lars muttered darkly before following in the direction Wendy had gone.

Lars and Matt had begun to assist Wendy, who had revealed that he owned the club and ran it by himself, and Brett had started setting up the drum kit even though they wouldn't be playing tonight. The line-up for the release party was a few of Rancid's close friends, bands they had worked with over the years. Opening the night would be Good Charlotte, followed by Sick Of It All, and the end of the night would conclude with Green Day. It was set up to be a good show, and the invitation-only party would include many other band members and close friends.

Tim had finished his song and dance routine, clamboring onto the stage. "Hey, Brett, ya need some help?," he asked.

"Sure," Brett answered from behind the kick drum. "Thanks, Tim."

"Hey, no problem," Tim told him, starting to situate the toms on their stands.

Matt gave Lars a curious look across the stage, clipping the speakerwire into the PA then crossing to join him. "I'm a little worried about Tim," he told him quietly. "He's been kind of...weird...ever since Brody left."

Lars nodded his agreement. "I know. The other night I found him at a bar, and when I went up to him he acted like he didn't know who I was at all. I figured he was just drunk, but the bartender said when he'd offered him a drink Tim said he wasn't old enough. Then I tried to take him home and he just kept asking for Jesse and telling me his name was Lint."

Matt sighed heavily. "I think she really fucked him up, man."

"Yeah, me too," Lars said. "But what can we do, really?"

"Maybe...," Matt started hesitantly. "Maybe I should get ahold of Jesse..."

Lars gave Matt a wide-eyed look of sheer terror. "Why?!," he asked, perhaps a bit too loudly, causing Wendy, Tim, and Brett to all look over at him. He gave them a tense smile then repeated himself quieter.

"Maybe seeing Jesse again would snap Tim out of it," Matt replied, quiet as well.

"Yeah...but if he sees Jesse again...," Lars trailed off. Matt placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Tim loves you, Lars. He won't forget that," he assured him.

Lars looked down at the speaker in front of him and tried to force a smile. With all the hard shit he'd been through lately, the way Tim had been acting was really starting to take a toll on his mental health. He shrugged.

"I know Tim won't. But Lint probably doesn't even know."

A few hours later, the bands started showing up. The first band to arrive was Green Day, Billie Joe being carried in on Mike's back, apparently already drunk. Tre brought up the rear, cooing and speaking softly to a matted ball of fur in his arms.

"Indestructible!!," Billie Joe cried out exhuberantly as Mike deposited the singer on a table.

"Fatass," Mike muttered.

"Hey, guys!," Tim called, leaping off the stage to join them. Lars, Matt, Brett and Wendy followed at a less enthusiastic pace.

Tim embraced Mike in a friendly fashion, then hugged Billie as well when he sat up. He turned to Tre but stopped short when he saw the fluffy creature.

"What's that?," he asked, peering at it curiously.

Tre unravelled the creature from where it was wrapped tightly around his forearm, holding it out to Tim. "It's Garth!," he proclaimed happily. "I found him on the way over here.

Tim reached out to pet the cat, retracting his hand when it spit angrily and nipped at his fingers.

"He's just a little nervous," Tre explained, pulling the cat back to his chest and disregarding the several wounds he aquired from teeth and claws in the process.

"Or a little rabid...," Mike suggested.

"I bet he needs some beer!," Billie Joe exclaimed, then paused. "I bet I need some beer!"

"I bet you do," Matt said laughingly. "Thanks for coming, guys."

"Hey, wouldn't miss it for the world," Mike assured him, watching Tre cautiously as he set Garth on the floor.

"Yeah! Six albums!," Billie Joe said excitedly. "You're catching up with us!"

"Except we don't sound like total pussies!," Tim said in the same enthusiastic manner.

Billie Joe laughed but hopped off the table and assumed a drunken fighting stance. He and Tim started a playful wrestling match on the dirty floor, as the door was pushed open once again and four younger band members ambled through, looking around curiously. Lars glanced up from where the two singer/guitarists were rolling around towards them.

"Hey, Benj!," he called out.

The aforementioned Benji grinned back, leading the way over to the group and followed by his identical twin (who really didn't look all that much like him anymore) and the rest of his band. They lost one member of their crew when the lanky guitarist with the long black hair and too much make-up squealed excitedly and kneeled down.

"Hey Lars," Benji finally returned the greeting, stepping over Tim and Billie Joe to shake Lars' hand. "Congrats, man."

"Thanks," Lars responded, grinning widely.

Billy suddenly leapt up, yelping and holding his right hand protectively against his chest with his left. "That little bastard cat bit me!," he exclaimed.

Tre quickly shuffled over and plucked Garth off the ground, glaring at Billy. "He's not a bastard, he's an angel," he argued, petting the cat. "You're a bastard."

The ever-growing group of band members chatted affably amongst themselves, and Billie Joe finally tapped out. Tim hopped up with a triumpant war cry of 'Pussy!' then extended a hand down to the other man, who was collapsed on the floor exhaustedly. Billie Joe took his hand and pulled himself up, panting.

"Good job, Tim," Billie congratulated him.

"I told you to call me Lint now!," Tim protested. "C'mon, you can buy me a beer, loser."

Billie Joe, still having trouble breathing, gave him an odd look. "I thought you quit drinking..."

"He did," Matt told Billie Joe, giving Tim a matching look.

Tim turned around and glared at Matt petulantly. "Jesse doesn't care if I drink," he told him, then stalked off in the direction of the bar. Billie Joe shrugged at Matt then followed, trailed by quite a few of the other members.

By the time everyone else had made it to the bar, whether they were drinking, not drinking, or trying to keep 'Lint' from drinking, Sick Of It All had found their way into the building. Greetings and congratulations were passed around. Lou and Pete pulled themselves onto barstools, eerily similar in their mannerisms despite the fact that they looked nothing alike, and ordered glasses of Guinness from the bartender, who had just recently shown up.

Before long the venue was nearly full of people, all drinking and having a good time and congratulating Rancid on their Indestructible release. Good Charlotte had taken the stage, playing their own songs and quite a few covers. Lots of the older people there didn't pay much attention, but a few of them got into the new breed's own particular brand of 'punk rock' and started a decent-sized pit, led by Lars despite Matt's insistent warning that he was going to fuck up his back again.

Matt had succeeded in keeping Tim away from the bar, and they were now standing near the back of the venue watching the show and talking, or rather yelling, to the random people that stopped by. As Good Charlotte started the last song of their set, a flattering cover of Journey To The End of the East Bay, Tim glanced towards the door and narrowed his eyes.

"What the fucking is that asshole doing here?," he growled in Matt's general direction.

Matt followed the trail of Tim's eyes, coming to rest on a familiar form, but one he hadn't seen in quite a while. Dressed casually in black pants and a dark blue t-shirt and looked quite lost, Jesse Michaels ran a hand through his short, dark hair and started making his way through the crowds slowly.

"I thought you might want to see him...," Matt replied after a moment, and Tim gave him a withering look in response.

"Right. Because I've wanted to see him over the past fifteen years and just haven't gotten around to it, right?," Tim asked rhetorically, then shook his head. "I'm going to find Lars. Get him the fuck out of here."

Tim pushed off the wall and Matt sighed. While Lint would have been perfectly happy to see Jesse, Tim apparently wasn't. Jesse found his way over to Matt just as Tim made his way into the pit. Jesse watched Tim's back disappear before looking at Matt, one eyebrow arched in a flawless expression of inquisitiveness.

Matt shook his head. "He hates you right now. Give him ten or fifteen minutes and he'll love you again."

Jesse's eyebrow arched a bit more and he smirked slightly. "And everyone thinks I'm the loony."

Matt grinned and extended a hand, which Jesse grasped before pulling the larger man into a brief hug.

"It's good to see you," Matt told him.

"You, too," Jesse replied. "And congratulations."

"Impressed that we can make a band work for more than four years?," Matt asked jokingly.

Jesse laughed. "That was low. But well-deserved, I guess," he admitted. "But seriously, what's up with Lint? I thought you said he wanted me here..."

Matt shifted uneasily on his feet, lowering his voice now that Good Charlotte was leaving the stage and people were starting to move around again. "It's...sort of hard to explain. You heard about Brody leaving him, right?"

Jesse conceded with a nod that he had. "Yeah, I'm really sorry about that."

"Hey, we all are," Matt told him. "But...ever since then, he's been sort of...off. Just recently it's gotten quite bad."

Jesse moved to lean against the wall next to Matt, crossing his arms over his chest. "What has, Matt?"

"Tim...he's...well, I don't know," Matt started. "It's like, most of the time he's okay. But then...every once in a while he sort of loses it. He starts acting like he's twenty years old, and he's insisting that people call him Lint again, and he talks about you..."

Jesse raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"A lot," Matt added. "I don't know what to do for him, so I thought if he saw you it might help."

With a small nod, Jesse averted his eyes for a second to watch Tim walk back towards the bar, with one arm slung around Lars' shoulders, completely ignoring Jesse. "Is there anything that triggers it?," Jesse asked curiously, looking back at Matt.

After thinking for a moment, Matt shook his head. "Not that I've noticed. It's...totally unpredictable. Just sometimes he's Tim, and sometimes he's...Lint. If that makes sense."

"It does," Jesse agreed. "But I really don't know what I could do about the situation..."

"Fuck, man, I don't know," Matt admitted. "You're the smart one. Go jump into some bushes with him or something."

Jesse paused a second, then very nearly giggled. "He's been doing that?"

Matt nodded and held his composure a second before laughing as well.

Sick Of It All was taking the stage, and many people were already cheering for them. While not as widely known as Good Charlotte or Rancid, they'd been around a lot longer than either of the bands and were respected as some of the forefathers of the New York Hardcore scene, and undeniably still one of the best hardcore bands around. Lou unwound his mic and plugged it into the PA, flashing the crowd a grin when Fat Mike, prompted by plenty of beer, suggested that he 'take it all off'.

Matt slapped Jesse lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, I'll talk to you more later, I'm gunna go check these guys out."

Jesse nodded silently, then retreated back into the bar to watch the show and think. Lars and Tim were positioned near the bar, so he found a table far enough away not to be noticed and watched them inconspiciously. Tim had shed his leather jacket, tossing it over the back of his barstool, and the two were now situated comfortably close to each other. Lars had a glass of beer in one hand, the other arm around Tim, and Tim was sipping at a glass of some soda. Lars said something that caused Tim to turn to him and grin, and Jesse felt a little pang of loss hit his heart and slice further down into his stomach. So this is what he'd been avoiding for the last fifteen years.

"Heeeeeey!," Lou's trademark scratchy voice cut through the air in a growl, causing everyone - including Jesse - to cease their conversations and thought processes and look towards the stage. "What's up, everybody?!"

There was a mingled cry from the crowd as a response. Craig hit a few notes on his bass and Lou stalked across the stage like he owned it. With another glance back at his fellow bandmembers, he took a place front and center.

"We are Sick Of It All, from New York City!," Lou proclaimed with the proper amount of pride, cueing Pete, Craig and Armand to start into a fast-paced song. A few seconds later, Lou broke into angry vocals that matched the scream of his brother's guitar, spurring the amassed crowds to turn into a thriving mosh pit, many of them growling right along with the intimidating singer.

Jesse sat back and watched the show. The entire band, Lou in particular, was full of energy and charisma. Aside from that, he'd never been very fond of hardcore. The way they executed it was different, more talented than most of the hardcore bands he'd seen and heard, but when it all came down to it, they were the same. Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse spotted Lars vacating the bar in favor of the moshpit again, surprised to see that Tim didn't join him.

It wasn't until the end of the third song when Lou finally paused and took a moment to breathe, giving the other musicians a chance to rest as well. After downing an entire bottle of water, Lou tossed it out into the crowd and once again brought the mic up.

"Arrite, now, we don't have anything against Good Charlotte, or any of these kids," Lou began. "And I'm not trying to say I'm cooler than anyone, or any shit like that. But...back when we started this, punk was not about an image. It wasn't how you looked, or how many albums ya had. It was an attitude, it was a way of life. Our message here for tonight, and for life - and I think Tim, Lars, Matt and Brett would agree with us in this...can ya guess it?"

There was another jarbled response from the crowd, drawing a grin from Lou before he started speaking, or rather yelling again. "That's right! Disco Sucks, Fuck Everything!"

Jesse found a smile brought to his own face by the proclamation, watching the people respond to the song as Lou crouched down and started screaming out the lyrics. He was so entranced with the show, in fact, that he didn't notice Tim sliding into the chair next to him.

"Hey," Tim finally spoke, making Jesse jump a little bit before he turned to look at him.

"Hi," Jesse replied, smiling slightly.

"Good band," Tim stated, nodding towards the stage.

Jesse nodded his agreement, watching them for a few more moments before turning back to Tim. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure," Tim shrugged, not feeling the urge to mention that all drinks were free tonight. "Mountain Dew's good."

Jesse raised up and went to the bar, returning with a glass of Mountain Dew and one of water. He set them back down on the table and slid back into his chair. There was an awkward moment of silence between the two, even the powerful sound of Sick Of It All not being able to drown out the tension.

"How you been?," Jesse finally asked.

Tim shrugged lightly. "All right, I guess."

"Matt said you guys have been going through some roughness lately," Jesse mentioned with a small, sympathetic smile.

"Yeah, well, that's life," Tim stated. "It has it's ups and downs."

Jesse watched closely for any sign of the strange behavior Matt had been talking about, but found none. They talked politely for a few more moments, Tim figuring it was the least he could do to be civil with someone who'd been such a big part of his life. The small talk irritated Jesse to no end, but he endured it simply because it was with Tim. After a few songs, Tim excused himself to join the dancing crowds and Jesse watched him leave, curiously.

Matt sank into the chair Tim had vacated only moments later, sweaty and breathing heavily from overexertion in the pit. Jesse wordlessly slid him the untouched glass of water and Matt accepted it graciously. After drinking quite a bit of it, he paused to catch his breath and look at Jesse.

"So?"

"So?," Jesse repeated.

"You guys were talking...," Matt added, questioningly.

Jesse nodded. "Yeah, we did."

"What'd he say?," Matt continued.

"Nothing exciting," Jesse told him. "Small talk. He didn't seem to be acting weird to me."

"Like I said...it comes and goes," Matt said. "I'm surprised he talked to you if he wasn't feeling...Lint-ish."

"Same here," Jesse replied. He paused a second and narrowed his eyes, listening. "Are they covering fucking Yelling In My Ear?"

Matt smirked, listening intently. "Yeah, I think so."

Jesse laughed and shook his head. Sick Of It All finished their set with a few more songs, before people started streaming back into the bar. The air became thick with smoke, so Jesse excused himself from the area, heading into the main area of the venue. He noted Green Day setting up onstage and was headed in that direction when he was veritably blindsided by a flying Tim Armstrong.

"Jesse!," Tim exclaimed excitedly, latching his arms around Jesse's neck.

Jesse stumbled backwards and regained his balance, recovering from the initial shock. He glanced at Lars, who just sort of shrugged helplessly.

"Hey...Lint," Jesse muttered confusedly.

Tim finally let go of Jesse. "Did you hear that band? Weren't they fucking badass?!"

Lars gave another glance towards Tim and Jesse before making his way back to the bar, leaving Jesse to deal with Tim, or Lint, alone. He couldn't help feeling a bit disgruntled after seeing how excited Tim had been to see Jesse, even if he had reverted back to his twenty-one year old self. Tim's thirty-seven year old self was rarely that exorbitantly happy when Lars showed up.

"Yeah, they were good," Jesse agreed, watching Lars stalk off.

"They covered one of our songs, too!," Tim told him happily.

"Yeah, I - " Jesse was cut off when Tim unexpectedly wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss.

Jesse stepped back, not too soon of course, and looked at Tim curiously. Encouraged by the strange looks they'd gotten from a few of the people who didn't know their past together, as well as even stranger looks from people who knew their present together - or lack thereof - and an overly loud "Awwwwwwww!!" from an intoxicated Matt Skiba, Jesse tugged on his arm. "C'mon, Lint. Let's go for a walk."

'Lint' agreed enthusiastically and the pair headed out the door. Lars watched them go, not being able to help the glare that formed on his visage. His hatred was interrupted when Brett walked over a few moments later, having missed the ordeal.

"Hey, have you seen Tim?," Brett asked him.

"Yeah," Lars answered. "Or actually, I've seen Lint. Why?"

"Uh, he forgot to take his pills this morning, so I was gunna give them to him..."

Lars gave Brett a confused glance after his words registered, after all he was Brett and he rarely said anything worth listening to. "What pills?"

"Uhm, anti-depressants," Brett told him. "He's been taking them since Brody left."

"Oh," Lars responded. "I didn't know about that...weird. He went for a walk or something."

"Oh, okay, I'll just give them to him when he gets back then," Brett said, but Lars had already retreated back into the bar.

By the time Green Day was ready to start their set, Tim and Jesse had returned and were standing near the stage, talking affably. Jesse still didn't know what to make of Tim's odd behaviour, but for the time being he was trying his best to ignore it. He didn't know what Matt though bringing him here would solve, but if his ex-lover wanted to revert to a younger version of himself and pretend they were still in love he wasn't one to complain.

Lars and Matt had been talking over a beer when they noted Tim's return. Lars leaned over to where Brett was, a few barstools down.

"Hey, dude, Tim's back if you want to give him his pills."

"Oh, thanks," Brett said and scampered off quickly.

"What pills?," Matt queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Anti-depressants, I guess he's been taking them since Brody left or something," Lars informed the bassist. "You think they might have something to do with the way he's been acting?"

"It's possible that they could," Matt decided. "But Tim doesn't take anti-depressants. We're on the same insurance plan - any prescription Tim gets, I know about."

"Then what...," Lars trailed off, turning around to watch as Brett cohersed 'Lint' into taking whatever pill he was giving him.

Lars and Matt shared a confused, suspicious glance as Green Day started into an enthusiastic version of The Judge's Daughter. Their set consisted mostly of older songs, which pleased the better part of the crowds. As they began playing When I Come Around, Tim and Jesse moved away from the stage and back into the bar. They returned to the table they'd been sharing before, though 'Lint' wouldn't have known if you'd asked him, and Jesse was in the process of convincing him not to order a beer when the loud sound of metal grating against metal resounded through the building.

The amassed punkrockers could only watch in amazement when the spotlights directed towards the stage shifted, and the left side of the large, heavy lighting fixture dropped down seven feet. The snapping of wires was audible among the still, dead silence and the fixture dropped a few more feet, lurched, then crumpled to the middle of the now-empty dancefloor loudly. And atop the torn up pile of black metal, proudly preening his tangled fur, was Garth.

The first person to break the following silence was Tre, gasping and plowing through his drums to leap off the stage. He hurried to the crash site and very carefully plucked the cat off of the debris, stroking his head lovingly and checking him over for injuries.

"That fucking cat is going to die," came another voice, and a few seconds later Wendy appeared from inside the sound booth, storming towards Tre.

Tre wrapped his arms around the cat protectively, tucking him under one arm like a football and glaring Wendy down. "Stay back, infidel!"

Matt glanced at Lars and Lars nodded, so they both pushed back their barstools and joined Wendy and Tre on the floor where they were now in a heated argument. They had nearly reached them when yet another voice called out.

"Fire!," Craig Ahead belonged to the voice. Everyone turned to look at him in confusion. "Not me, assholes, up there!," he reitterated, pointing towards the ceiling.

Craig wasn't mistaken, one of the snapped wires had indeed ignited part of the building. Finally, the crowds were spurred into action and started heading for every available exit. Tre squealed and covered Garth's face as he hurried towards the backstage exit, warning the cat not to inhale the fumes. Billie Joe was careful to grab his beloved Blue before taking off, just as Matt Skiba made quite sure that he was in possession of his martini.

Somewhere amidst the chaos, someone remembered to call 911 before they all left the building. People flooded out into the streets, the ones carrying illegal substances rushing towards their cars to split before the cops showed up.

Matt searched through the crowds to find the rest of his bandmates as the sound of sirens became more and more audible. He discovered Lars leaning against a fence across the street, and Brett standing a bit away. Lars pushed himself off of the fence as Matt approached.

"Where's Tim?," they both asked at the same time, followed by a simultaneous "I thought he was with you."

"Shit," Matt muttered.

"Fuck," Lars said.

With an unspoken agreement they both started to walk back towards the building, Brett walking a few paces behind them. Before they could get too far, they spotted Jesse striding towards them - with an unconcious Tim cradled in his arms.

"What happened?," Matt asked, rough voice full of concern.

Jesse shrugged, as much as he could while holding Tim up. "He passed out a few minutes before the lighting rig came down."

Lars and Matt exchanged curious glances, then both looked behind them at Brett. Brett's eyes widened excessively and he turned around, quickly taking off down the street.

"I'll go," Matt told Lars, running after Brett without another word.

Lars turned back to Jesse, who was now sporting a far-off gaze. "Jesse?," he asked.

Jesse acted as if he hadn't heard Lars, looking up at the smoke pluming into the sky. "Wow," he muttered in a hushed voice. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Huh?," Lars asked confusedly, glancing towards the sky as well for a second before Jesse pushed Tim into his arms. He looked back at Jesse, who clapped an arm on his shoulder.

"The apple has made contact with Newtons head," Jesse told him in a sagacious voice, then stepped back and disappeared into the crowd.

Lars shifted Tim in his arms, looking down at him for a moment then averting his gaze back up to Jesse's back, striding farther down the street. Matt returned, grasping Brett by the back of the neck and interrupting Lars' confusion.

"Where'd Jesse go?," Matt inquired.

"He kinda...uh...well...," Lars started brokenly.

"Ooooh. He pulled another 'Shit, I'm a genius' and bailed, huh?," Matt asked knowingly.

Lars nodded.

Matt only smirked. "C'mon, let's get Tim to an ambulance."

Tim woke up a few days later, in a hospital bed with a massive headache. He groaned loudly, alerting Matt and Lars of his state of waking, and they both stood from their respective chairs and moved to either side of him.

"What the fuck happened to me?," Tim asked, voice scratchy due to underuse.

Lars and Matt shared a glance, silently deciding who was going to explain the whole fucked up situation.

"How much do you remember of the last few months?," Matt asked.

"Uh...most of it, I guess," Tim told him, then squinted one eye thoughtfully. "But...it really doesn't make sense."

Matt sighed. "Brett was giving you pills..."

"Yeah, anti-depressants," Tim said. "I remember that."

"Except they were rat poison," Lars supplied. "He was trying to kill you, Tim."

"What?," Tim asked unbelievingly.

"He wanted you dead," Matt reitterated. "He said he was tired of Rancid, and figured that convincing Brody to leave you hadn't ruined the band so the only way to do it would be to get rid of you."

"Why was he tired of Rancid? He coulda just said something..."

"Well," Lars snickered. "Apparently he...wanted to make a Hanson tribute band."

Tim raised both of his eyebrows disbelievingly, then laughed as well. "Brett's a closet Hanson fan. I never would have guessed."

"Well, let's just hope for his sake that the guys in prison don't guess it either," Matt said, also grinning.

"One of the effects of the poison was that you...er...well, you thought you were Lint," Lars went on. "You acted like you were twenty years old."

"Oh," Tim had a tone of epiphany. "That explains...Jesse."

Lars nodded and Tim looked up at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Lars."

Shaking his head, Lars patted Tim's hand reassuringly. "It's okay. I mean, it's not really your fault."

Tim smiled at him, then looked from him to Matt. "But...so what happened to Jesse?"

"Uh...this should explain it, I guess," Matt said, reaching to the floor to hand Tim a medium sized cardboard box.

The address told him it came from a Brother Jesse in Col Drobes, Tibet. Tim raised an eyebrow curiously before prying the box open and pulling out the contents. He looked over the contents and unfolded the small sheet of white paper.

"Welcome back," Tim read aloud, grinning slightly.

"Why did Jesse send you a bonsai tree?," Lars asked, looking at the potted plant.

"It's a hedge," Tim corrected him. "And I think you would've learned by now that it's useless to question anything Brother Jesse of the Col Drobes does."

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws