Title: A Hard Kind of Life
Fandom: Wrestling
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: CM Punk/Lita, Scott Levy
Complete: No.
Summary: Punk and Lita are back at her house and there is doubt there.
Notes: If you have any questions please ask them, I need to make sure I'm not repeating myself, or leaving big gaping plot holes.

Previous Chapters

I know everyone will probably see me as crazy once they realize I've forgiven Punk completely for having hurt me.

You're thinking it's ridiculous, I know.

I would have too a couple years ago, but Punk's beast and how it feels about me has always made me wonder.

The wolf is beautiful. All dark fur and warm brown eyes, filled with intelligence just like Punk's are regularly.

We got back to my place pretty quickly, a small apartment on the east side of a town known as Los Perdidos, a city that emerged out of the ashes near the Mexican border after the first great war against genetic mutation.

It was killer.

Pardon the bad pun, I'm horrible I know.

Punk was more involved in the first war than I ever was, and from what he tells me he barely survived it but he doesn't say much more than that.

Scott says it's like X-Men times ten. He likes to dumb things down for me, well for everyone.

"What are you thinking about?" Punk asks me, sitting on the opposite end of the couch as though he's afraid to get close to me.

It's weird listening to his thoughts because there are two minds within him, as though the beast and Punk's conscious mind haven't been able to break through the thin membrane which separates them.

"I am thinking about you," I reply honestly. "And how we came to be so close," I continue, nibbling on my bottom lip. It's a nervous habit.

Punk smiles briefly, the expression ghosting across his face and leaving me wishing that I could see that expression more often, wishing that we lived in a world which involved constant happiness.

"I brought you to the institute, you didn't trust me as far as you could throw me," Punk says, sucking on his lip ring.

"And I could hardly pick you up," I respond, smiling somewhat watching him move, his movements are predatory and he doesn't even seem to realize it. He also never seems to realize that everyone can see the loneliness in his eyes.

A wolf without a pack.

The institution is a place that is filled with coldness despite how much anyone tries to make it warm.

Walls painted in burnt oranges with couches of smooth leather, something that has always made me a little uneasy, especially after Punk informed me that to his nose it still smelt too much like cow.

Electrodes are hooked up to those who fall into the "need to be studied" line, which is me.

It was worse before I knew how to control my gift, listening constantly to everyone else's thoughts, unable to stop listening.

My mind was invaded almost continuously, to the point where it made me physically ill because sometimes you should never hear what people are thinking.

Distracted, she's so distracted Punk thinks, sitting a little bit closer and taking my hand gently and squeezing.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Punk asks, his dark eyes peering intently into mine, filled with anxiety.

I shrug, "It has nothing to do with what happened. Sometimes I think I'll never be okay."

He smiles and nods, a rush of understanding flooding into me and causing me to close my eyes against the tears that are suddenly sparked there.

It just wouldn't do to cry all over him when we've just gotten together and I know this.

Punk gathers me close and a warm wave of comfort falls over me like a blanket.

"Thank you," I murmur into his neck. "I'm not usually like this, promise."

Laughing softly Punk kisses my forehead, "I know what you're like remember, I've known you well enough for a while. But I also know that despite what those governmental bastards think that you're human, and you have human emotions."

I sniffle and nod allowing him to swipe at the few tears which did escape.

"You're right, I've just been thinking about everything that's happened, the war and everything," I explain, kissing his cheek.

"Would you be in a war if one were to happen again?" Punk asks, and his curiousity washes over me once again.

I don't know, I have no answer to give him.

"Would I have a choice?" I question in return, knowing that he'd had very little choice. It had not been a chemical war, but one of weaponry versus powers, those who had changed versus those who could not stomach the thought.

Punk shrugs, but I can read the truth in his eyes even more than I could in his mind, I would have to.

"Aren't you scared of being used as a weapon?" I ask him, hating the thought of being used in any way, or even worse, seeing those who I care about the most being used. It's an awful thought.

Punk smiles and it's purely bittersweet.

Pieces of his past fall into place, as memories that are not my own flash through my mind so rapidly I'm forced to close my eyes and grasp his arm.

"I'm sorry," Punk apologizes softly.

I shake my head, opening my eyes once again I press my lips to his and fight to relax even though I can feel turmoil growing inside of me.

"It's okay, it's not something you can control," I tell him, stroking along his jaw line I kiss him once again.

Punk returns the kiss, although I can tell as much as he enjoys it there's a reluctance there. He is scared of hurting me, it will take a while to get past what has happened today but I will help him.

Just like I always do.

Happier feelings permeate through my mind, his and my own, although doubt still nags at me slightly, and I'm unable to stop it.

As much as I want to know about Punk, want to know every aspect of him and everything he's been through I find myself scared.

I know that there are things he has done, in order to survive that I would never be able to stomach and it scares me.

I don't want to see him as he sees himself.

As a monster.