A/N: this is the first chapter of my first fanfic EVER, so please bear with me.. suggestions are EXTREMELY welcome! Also, every odd chapter will be from Wolverine's point of view, and every even chapter will be from Caroline's (my OC's) point of view. There may be a few exceptions, depending on how the story progresses, but I'll try to keep it simple.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the X-Men characters. If I did, well ... I'm just not going to go there.
WARNING: I have unfortunately not read the comics but I do have some background info. If that finds me wanting, stop reading now. There will also be lots of profanity, so, uh, yeah. Ditto.
Kill me. Kill me. Her last words echoed inside my head. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was something I needed to get rid of. After Jean- Dark Phoenix- died, I had reverted back to my old ways. Bar hopping, living off the road. Hell, I was lucky if I could get one match in at a cage fight. Ever since joining the X-Men, I'd been…well, broadcasted. Exposed. Luckily, the meatheads at the bars I frequented didn't exactly care what was going on outside of ESPN. But once I'd gotten one fight in… eyes would widen and realization of who- and what- I was, was suddenly known, and I was forced to move on, hoping to find "work" somewhere else.
But I couldn't live like this forever. Even I knew that. My meager cash was slowly turning into no cash, and I was heading home. Truth be told, I didn't really know what to call home, but for right now there was only one place that came fairly close. I was heading back to Westchester. At least to return the bike. When I left, the only thing I took with me was Scott's bike. And sure, I felt a little guilty about taking it, but Scott would've wanted it this way. I think. I hope.
I'd spent the last couple of months in the South, drifting from city to city until I was closer to the mansion than I was to New Orleans. Now I was determined to get there, and I didn't want to stop for anything. Passing up through New Jersey, I noticed that the needle on the gas gauge was leaning dangerously close to E. I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth as I swerved across two lanes to get to the next exit which I was about to pass. I got honked at, predictably, but of course I didn't give a damn. All I wanted was to get home. I pulled into the nearest gas station and drove up to one of the pumps. Full service only. I heard a low rumble from the back of my throat and felt my lips curling into a snarl before turning to face the clearly terrified gas jockey with clenched fists.
"Fill 'er up." I growled, shoving right past the teen whose wide eyes were hardly visible under his ridiculously long greasy black hair. The minute the doors to the mini-mart slid open I was hit with an overpowering smell. It was distinctly feminine, but it didn't reek of perfume like so many women did. It was driving me crazy, so I headed towards the far wall in an attempt to distance myself as far from the smell as I could. I grabbed a beer from the fridge before quickly heading to the check-out, wanting nothing more than to be rid of that erotic scent.
On getting on line, the smell only got stronger, brining out my animalistic traits; my eyes were wide and darting everywhere, my white-knuckled fists were daring my mind to unsheathe my claws, and a few sweat droplets were making their way out onto my hairline. Every last movement, sound, and scent was known to me. I was hyper-aware of everything going on around me. The red-head in front of me couldn't move fast enough. I closed my eyes, trying to regain control. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep-
"Do you have a quarter?" I opened my most likely bloodshot eyes to find the woman in front of me staring at me with her eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. The fragments of my already broken heart shriveled even more when I noticed how much she looked like Jean.
"No." I said, never letting on how much it pained me just to look at her.
"You didn't even look." She snapped, narrowing her eyes at me.
"And?" I challenged, arching an eyebrow.
"Ugh!" she huffed, shoving past me to the other people on line. "Does anyone have a quarter?" All the men on line started searching their pockets eagerly while the women merely looked annoyed. Before long, a blond man, probably a few years younger than she was, handed her a quarter and gave her an apologetic glance before shooting me a look of wary hatred. My lips once again pulled back into a snarl and my fists clenched, making the man look down at his shoes nervously and get back in line. The red head gave him a genuine smile and mouthed "thank you" before handing the quarter over to the cashier and giving me a venomous glare. I smirked back, and she scoffed, heading outside without giving me a backwards glance. I placed my beer on the counter with a twenty. While the cashier was counting out my change, I couldn't help but look outside, where Red was pulling down her shades and sliding into the black leather driver's seat of a burnt orange Audi R8 convertible and gunning the engine. I whistled through my teeth.
"Will that be all, sir?" the cashier woke me out of my trance with her nondescript tone. Her tired features betrayed nothing to the scene that had just occurred.
"Oh, uh, yeah." I said, grabbing my beer and storming out. My bike was filled, and I handed the on-edge gas jockey three twenties before chugging my beer and mounting my- Scott's- bike. The gas jockey returned with my change and gulped. "Thanks." I said, taking the last swig of my beer. I took my change and handed him the now empty beer bottle. After pocketing what was left of my money, I flew out of the lot, leaving the bewildered teen to his own devices. I let out a low rumble of a chuckle and sped down the highway. I was that much closer to home.
A/N: So what did you guys think? Comment, please! (Was I sticking to character enough?)