Crash - Guns N Roses Fanfiction

TWENTY EIGHT

Officer McGrath and I had just cleared up the nonsense about Axl's rape charge. My chest expanded with relief as soon as I knew he understood what happened and fixed the problem, but I was still worried about the remaining charges and how I would pay for them.

When my mother died, I immediately inherited all of her belongings, including her money. After a long couple of months, thinking about what to do with the furniture, I decided to sell it. I had no use for any of it, I had my own apartment with my own furniture and didn't need hers, even if it was hard to see it all go. After all, that was the furniture from the house that I lived in my whole life.

Then, of course, my father died the same year. From him I got a lot more money but less things to get rid of. He was almost constantly overseas so he had an apartment just about the same size of mine, at the time. And since he had a roommate who wasn't drafted, I didn't need to sell much furniture.

So, point being, that's how I had enough money to get myself to LA, survive, and live in a very small house. However, as soon as Guns came around and they started eating my food, using my electricity, water, and heat--it goes without saying that the numbers in my bank account began decreasing at an alarming rate, even with my salary.

But enough thinking about that, I'll figure it out. I just wanted to see Axl, and find out how we can get out of here as soon as possible.

I glanced behind myself, towards the door. "Where's Axl? Can I see him, please?"

McGrath looked up, the pen cap in his mouth. His hair was disheveled and greying, his skin an abstract work of faint creases. I wondered how old he was, how long he'd worked the same job and if it ever got boring or tiring. Something told me he mainly looked so drained because of this hectic night.

I didn't blame him.

He nodded his head when he looked back down to the paperwork, and I breathed a sigh of relief. McGrath spoke into his walkie-talkie, a series of numbers and words I wasn't quite able to decode.

He then walked me out of the room, down the hallway and towards the main lobby.

Axl looked distraught as the officers tried to speak to him informatively. He didn't seem to want to listen, and I watched as he scoffed. He would have probably crossed his arms, had his wrists not been caught in cuffs.

I wondered what they were trying to explain to him--probably about the rape charges that only he knew he didn't deserve. So far, apart from McGrath, no one knew he wasn't guilty.

Axl's eyes met mine, and I quickly ran to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I wanted to talk to him, tell him how sorry I was that this had to happen, ask him if he's okay, if there's anything I can do to help. But there were officers all around us, and all I could do was be thankful.

His hands found the curve of my hip, just barely reaching my sides with his hands caught in their cuffs. I sighed, and pulled away before it would become awkward for our audience.

I smiled apologetically at Axl. He looked away. I tried not to be offended--there were plenty of reasons he could have not wanted to look at me. It was probably because of the police surrounding us.

Someone cleared their throat and then began to speak seconds later.

"So, seeing as the person that you thought would bail you out of jail, could not," the officer gave Axl a very pointed glare that I barely noticed because: wait a second, what?