Book 4: My Hands Are Tied (Axl Rose FanFic)

Ch. 10: Twin Flame

**⚠️TRIGGER WARNING: the following chapter contains domestic abuse, references to childhood abuse/trauma, and a mention of suicide⚠️**

"Axl always chose to patch things up with grand gestures." -Slash

"What the hell are you doing?!"

I slid into the passengers seat with surprising ease, inertia from the moving vehicle causing the door to shut loosely behind me, like a swooping robot arm helping to usher me into the car. I settled into the passenger's seat of Cook's old '81 Volkswagen Rabbit. It wasn't the car I would've chosen for her, but somehow it suited her anyway. Once I was comfortable, I popped the door back open and slammed it shut, fully and securely latching it.

"I had to get to you before you left," I answered back breathlessly. I had started out in a jog when I left the venue, but when I'd seen Cook trying to peel away into the street, I'd been forced into an all-out sprint. My lungs were not happy with me at the moment, especially after having just worked overtime during the show.

"So you jump into a moving vehicle? What is wrong with you?!" Cooks face was smeared with mascara tears, but I could tell by her voice that the crying had stopped by now.

She had slammed the brakes of her car when I'd hopped in, but quickly had to start up again to swerve out of the way of oncoming traffic. I had only just made it. Her car had been halfway out the parking lot and into the road before I could catch up to her.

It's now or never, I'd thought to myself. Naturally, I chose now.

And thankfully, it was too late now to try and shove me out of the vehicle. We were getting up to speed with the rest of the traffic, and Cook wouldn't dare try and risk hurting an innocent civilian-even someone as annoying to her as myself. So I ignored her scolding, instead choosing to gaze out the window at the city lights as they flashed by. The Strip at night was as dazzling as always, and felt even more magical when adrenaline was running through your veins, making everything seem to glow a little brighter. It reminded me of the night I first arrived in LA, my mouth as wide as my eyes as I stepped off of the smelly bus and into the bustling nightlife. My adrenaline had been pumping then too, out on my own in this foreign land, and nowhere in the whole wide world else left to go except wherever Izzy was. Hoping I was making the right choices. Knowing anything else was still better than....

"What is wrong with you? You've got everyone worried about you, you know," I replied coolly, pushing in the cigarette lighter button on the dash and waiting patiently while it began to heat up. I didn't want to think about my own problems right now. I was here to interrogate Cook about hers.

"You don't know a fuckin' thing about me," she growled back, her knuckles becoming whiter and whiter as she strangled the steering wheel. I'd bet my left nut that she was imagining that the wheel was my neck instead.

I fished my cigarettes out of my pocket. They were crumpled and worn from me sitting in my skintight pants, but I managed to work one out of the package anyway.

"You smoke?" I offered.

"Of course I fuckin' do."

I nodded.

I tugged the lighter out of its socket and started the cigarette with it. After a few puffs, I presented it to Cook. A smoldering olive branch, a peace offering.