14 years - Axl Rose x OC

42

"Hey, woman, you got the blues

'Cause you ain't got not one else to use

There's an open road that leads nowhere

So just make some miles between here and there

There's a hole in my head where the rain comes in

You took my body and played to win

Ha, ha, woman, it's a cryin' shame

But you ain't got nobody else to blame

Evil woman."

Evil woman-Electric Light Orchestra

---July 2nd, 1991

It was a long day, full of tension, and everyone could see it. The two respective bands were, thankfully, far away from St. Louis now. In the San Francisco Bay area, they'd be playing their second show before heading to Sacramento. Lita Monroe was right when she said consequences would come flying to Axl faster than he'd jumped on that man in the crowd.

St. Louis police had issued a warrant for Axl's arrest yesterday just before their first show. They were seeking retribution for the destruction of the newly-built Riverport Amphitheatre, and to Axl for inciting the riot that caused those damages. Finally, just as he'd finished the encore from Mountain View people, Axl came up to her, admitting that Lita had been right to be concerned with the damages that would follow his actions.

But Axl still would've done it regardless: he cared for the fans and their safety, and you couldn't always rely on the security that you're guaranteed–Lita had to figure that out soon. He just didn't understand why she didn't want him to protect the crowd. Well, that wasn't true. Maybe Lita didn't want Axl to harm himself accidentally, trying to play savior. He could see her side, but, deep down, Axl didn't want to accept that, just maybe, he didn't always have to take the violent route.

But he couldn't tell Lita that she was right; it would hurt his pride. Instead he bottled it up, and they ceased discussing the Riverport Riot until Axl's warrant. He said he'd handle it out of court, hopefully. The riot had caused so much turmoil in their relationship recently, and he just wanted to move on; he knew they both did. And in order to do that, they'd really need to flesh it out, come to a mutual agreement about who was right and wrong. But neither were ready to do that.

It was hours before their second show for Mountain View, and Della had just returned from a moment away with Slash. The tension–something different than what was between her and Axl–remained. A memory of it. Jack wasn't there. He was out with Duff, and they'd be back any minute, he promised. Lita couldn't see it, but Jack was just down the hall. Immediately, a door opened in front of him, with Axl coming out, on his way to the stage.

They eyed each other in crossing, Jack's nasty black eye gone, but a permanent cut below his lip was still there. Jack, a little tipsy again and looking for a fight, purposefully hit Axl with his shoulder when he passed. The hall was small and the shoulder bumping loud. Nobody was in the hall except the two, Axl noted, angered. "Asshole," he muttered, loud enough for Jack to hear and be agitated.

"Fuck off," Jack seethed, looking back at what he started–he'd made the first move purposefully, out of pure fun, perhaps. As if he was looking for it. He wanted something to tick him off. Immediately, Jack lunged at the older man. Wanting. Asking for it. A brawl ensued: Jack's punch landed on the left side of Axl's jaw, just below the ear. Axl hurled one back at him, aiming for Jack's cut. Bull's Eye! Jack's lip started to bleed, Axl's jaw pounding in pain.