FicWad

Axl

I'm sitting in our dressing room staring blankly at my reflection in a mirror. Duff said he needed to talk to Izzy so he stepped out of the room. Steven was off procuring himself a groupie or two for tonight. And me, I'm supposed to be getting ready for the show. I don't even want to. And I don't care who the fuck it pisses off. I'm sick of this. We should have said fuck no but thanks to Sixx...

My eyes drop. I couldn't look at myself any longer. I don't even see me anymore. I just keep seeing a red headed, freckled little kid with sad eyes staring back at me. I'm not that kid anymore and I know that, but still every time I look in a mirror there he is. His eyes have seen just as much as mine have. Not that he can tell, if he says anything his dad would kill him. But I don't give a fuck about his dad or his fucking charade in front of a church congregation. I'm free of him now. Yet, that little boy in the mirror won't let me fucking forget. Nothing let's me forget.

Just then Izzy storms into the room. He grabs a beer bottle and hurls it into the wall. ,"That motherfucker!!!"

I don't even ask who, I have a pretty good feeling I already know. I just watch as Izzy starts an erratic pace. He's running his hand through his hair and pretty much growling. Shit, how bad is it?

"Nikki fucking dislocated some vertebrae in Slash's neck!" He says it sounding mad enough to take his gun and go after Nikki. I wonder what exactly bothers him more, Nikki being Nikki or Nikki hurting his precious Curly Sue?

"Is the show cancelled?" I ask and secretly hope like hell it is. I don't want to be here. I just want to disappear all together.

"Probably," Izzy sighs, "Slash says he can do it; Duff told him that his brain must have gotten dislocated too if he thinks that he's going onstage until they're put back in place. I guess there's too much swelling for the chiropractor to do anything right now. The hospital shot him full of steroids and anti-inflamatories and they're hoping that the swelling will have gone down enough by morning to be able to work on him. I agree with Duff though; there's no way in hell he should play, he needs to rest and be still. The doctors don't want him to. They say if he moves his neck at all..." Izzy grabs another bottle and crashes it into the adjacent wall. "He fucking football tackled him off a barstool and came down on top of him!"

"Why?" I ask. I should be more concerned for my band mate, but I'm a bit preoccupied by seeing shit I know can't possibly be there. That, and a small part of me is glad it's Slash. I still can't completely forgive him for taking Izzy away from me. It doesn't matter if Nikki orchestrated it that way, it was Slash's body Izzy had lain down with. A part of me can't help see it as defined justice. Yeah, im aware that's fucked up and all...but this is coming from a guy seeing his reflection as the child he was 20 years ago.

"Why?! Who the fuck knows why?! It's Nikki!!" He emphatically yells. He's really worked up over the situation.

"And you're this pissed because Nikki strikes again, or because it's Slash?" I ask sarcastically. I just can't help it. It still stings.

Izzy just stares at me with furrowed brows. "He's still our fucking lead guitarist Axe."

"Yeah, our lead guitarist that you were fucking up until recently," I mutter and turn back around to the mirror. The painful expression of little me stares at me. I blink and look down, but when I look back up he's still there.

"Axe, darlin, it's not that and you know it," Izzy sighs. I can see his expression softening.

"Do I now?" I ask as I watch the reflection of my childhood self asking the words. Why the fuck is he still there? Why the fuck is he haunting me? He's not real. He's not fucking real. It's just my fucked up mind playing tricks on me for some reason. Or is there some sort of relevance to this that I'm just not getting?

Izzy walks up behind me. I watch him wrap his long arms around little Billy. Billy closes his eyes and leans into Izzy just like a comforted child. Then I watch Izzy stroke his short red hair. "I love you Fireball...none but you." He kisses little Billy on top of the head. "No one compares to you darlin, I'm just worried because Slash is hurt. Don't read more into it than there is." And I feel Izzy doing it to me, but it's not me in the mirror.

"Oh so you don't wanna go wrap your arms around him?! Don't want to kiss and comfort him?!" I can see Billy's face turning red in anger. But the voice he shouts in is my own. I just look at him looking at me with his intense green eyes that know far too much pain. He places his small palm to the mirror and just looks at me like he's pleading with me to help him. I raise my hand and place it to his. A tear rolls down his pale freckled cheek. I wish I knew how to help him. But I know I can't. Not without a fucking time machine, even then it's questionable.

"Darlin...are you ok?" I hear Izzy's voice and snap back to reality. He looks a little concerned. I look down with a sigh. "Baby...what's wrong?" He asks.

I slightly shake my head and feel Izzy's arms squeeze me. I know Izzy's real. I know he's here with me. I know he's holding me and trying to comfort me. "Is he still there Izzy?" I barely ask.

"Who darlin?"

I look up at him with eyes that threaten to fill with tears. "Billy," I whisper, "in the mirror?"

"Axl...what are you talking about?" Izzy asks me and looks into the mirror briefly before looking back at me.

I look back into the mirror and I see him still there, still crying, still silently pleading with me. "Right there, don't you see him?" I ask and point to the child pointing back at me.

Izzy hovers down with his head closer to mine and peers in the mirror. "Yeah, I see him, Jeff's right there by him, holding him," he smiles into the mirror at the five year old me. His voice is so soothing hat even little Billy looks hopeful.

"No Izzy...not me. Billy. Freckle faced, chubby cheeked, sixties clothes, little and scrawny, short haired, Billy..." I just stare at my old child Like features.

"No... I see you. Handsome, long beautiful hair, eyes that melt me, my Fireball," he smiles. Now Billy places both hands on the mirror and screams but it's silent. And Izzy sees none of it. He just sees me as I am now. Am I crazy? Why can't he see Billy? He's right fucking there in the mirror! Why doesn't Izzy see him?! Goddamnit!! I lunge my right fist at the mirror aiming it right for Billy. My fist makes contact and the mirror shatters. I can still see his desperate green eyes trying to look through the cracks. Just go the fuck away already!

"What the fuck Axl?!" I hear Izzy shout. He grabs my hand and wraps a towel around it. But I watch none of it I just watch little Billy through a shattered mirror pounding his fists on it, screaming and crying, his lips say words but I can't hear him, I can only hear Izzy say something about stitches. "What's wrong with you? Are you insane?!" He shouts at me, but I know it isn't an angry shout.

Hummmm, considering I'm sitting here at a mirror and seeing myself as a child, yeah, probably. This is something that only happens to crazy people, right? Normal people don't see 20 year ago projections of themselves in mirrors, do they? No. No they don't. No, crazy people see shit that's not there. Izzy doesn't see Billy so one of us has defiantly got a loose wing nut, right? And that somebody is me.

Izzy unwraps my hand and knead before me. He wipes away blood from my ring and between my fingers. "Axl, talk to me darlin, just tell me what's wrong." A tear trickles down my cheek. What could i say to Izzy to make him understand? Fuck, I don't understand. If I say I'm seeing shit he will just want me to go to a hospital. They'll lock me up in a psyche ward. They'll all say I'm crazy. No, I can't tell Izzy. I have to lie. I normally never do that, especially not to Izzy. But I have no other choice.

"I just want to go home and never have to see Nikki Sixx again," I say softly to Izzy.

His hazel eyes meet mine, "I know baby...just two more weeks. We have to finish the tour. But we're leaving the second we play that final note. We'll go back to LA. We'll find somewhere to stay and we won't get out of bed for an entire week." His words sound so good and comforting. And just like when we were kids, I want to believe him. I want to lose myself in that daydream where Izzy always keeps me safe. I want so much to be on my back in a dark corn field with Izzy tracing my features and telling me how much he loves me and is gonna take care of me.

"Please take me away from here Izzy," I say as a tear rolls off my cheek.

"I will baby, I promise. Two weeks, then we're out of here. I promise.," He nods at me with all sincerity. And like always, I believe him and put all my faith in him. But it's all just a beautiful dream. This is reality and there is nothing perfect in it.

And I nod back. "Maybe you should go double check on Slash. Try to talk him out of this. All we need is for him to be hurt worse by playing."

"No, I'm not leaving you alone like this," he shakes his head at me.

"I'm fine. I just want to get the fuck out of here, out of Sixx's psycho circus. I'm ok, I just snapped a little. Just go check on Slash again." I want him to go so I can attempt talking to Billy.

"You're sure?" He raises an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, and send someone in here to check out my hand," I nod.

"Ok baby," he raises up. He stoops and kisses the top of my head again before leaving. And again I feel it, but I know that if I glance in that mirror it's happening to Billy and not to me.

I sigh and slowly turn my head to look in the mirror again. Billy's still there, distorted in the shards like a fun house mirror, but he's there and I see him. "What the fuck do you want from me? You think I can save you? No one can save you, not your mom, not your siblings, not Izzy, and not me...just like none of them could ever save me. Just go away. Just leave me alone." And the child wraps in silence. His heartbroken eyes squint shut as tears push out. "I'm sorry...this is just life and this is just the fucking way it is kid. All the tears in the world can't save you...us...so stop wasting your time and mine. Just go tge fuck away." But he just stares at me broken and confused. "I said go the fuck away!" I pound my fist on the countertop. I look down at my bloody hand.

"I'm a doctor, you sent for me," I hear a voice calling out from the door. Shit. Did he knock? Did I just not hear him? Fuck. I am losing my fucking mind.

I look back into the mirror and Billy slowly fades away and I take his place. Finally. "Come in!" I call out. Then a doctor comes in and I hold out my bloody hand to him.