𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐓 (X-Men ~ Peter Maximoff)

A Downpour of Tears

Her cheeks were puffy now and her eyes looked like they had run in with pepper spray. Truth be told, she didn't even look human, a statement which could be backed up by the alien noises that came from the sniffing and crying. But did she not have the right to look a mess, to grieve? Even if she didn't, Jennifer didn't care what the people passing by thought of her – it wasn't their business and it was a perfectly acceptable response to her situation and no one could tell her otherwise as she was the only person to ever go through what she was going through.

It was only when a car horn beeped that Jennifer looked at the world around her. Slightly blinded by the bright headlights, she stumbled off the road, wiping her face with the sleeve of her jacket, though the thin denim was no match for the rain that began to fall from the cloud covered sky. It seemed fitting, why shouldn't the world cry for her? Had she not saved it? Why was she being punished for doing the right thing?

Those were questions Jennifer feared she would never know the answers to, so with stubborn tears still making their way out of her eyes, she hurried back to the warehouse in a record time to avoid the heavy rain that started the second she stepped foot inside.

Unfortunately, it was too dark to see without the door open, causing a draft that swept up long rested dust. Ignoring this, Jennifer wandered over to the corner she had slept for the past week. Somewhere in the span of nine years the mattress had been removed, as had the blanket and pillow, leaving just a concrete floor in their place.

Resting her back where the two walls meet, Jennifer slid down until her head rested against her knees. Unlike a few minutes ago, all of her tears had disappeared, leaving Jennifer with a hollow silence which was indefinitely worse. Silence allowed the darkest of thoughts to rise to the surface and contaminate the mind. Guilt was one of the more prominent thoughts trying to pull her apart. It never succeeded though, because push comes to shove, the only thing she could blame herself for was joining the X-Division, and as much as she wanted to regret that she couldn't, knowing that it was a decision that saved millions of lives. It was not her fault that she had gone hurtling through time. But if she wasn't to blame, who was?

|☆| ~ |☆| ~ |☆|

As much as Jennifer enjoyed crying and staring blankly into oblivion, she realised fairly quickly that it wasn't going to help her. She needed to survive on her own until she came up with a plan to get out of Baltimore and back home. Luckily, no matter what era she happened to be in, she knew money was a constant – it had been going for almost three and a half centuries so it was highly improbable that the world had gotten rid of it just to spite her.

Standing in front of counter in a record store, Jennifer tapped her fingers against her arm, careful to avoid the bruise forming from her fight with Azazel. The 'Staff Wanted' sign cellotaped to the window of the store was the first Jennifer had seen in an hour of looking for employment so without a trace of hesitation she had entered the store, eager to have an income of money.

The manager – a hippie looking dude in his late twenties – beamed at Jennifer when she asked about the sign. "You want the job? Really?"

With a small concerned frown pulling at her eyebrows, Jennifer nodded. It didn't take long for him to notice her unease. "Sorry, it's just that the sign's been in the window for months and no one's come forward, cons of being on the outskirts of town I guess."

Jennifer tilted her head. "How come? There's plenty of customers," she looked around the store, observing the busy store.

The manager chuckled. "Yeah, people will go far and wide for entertainment, but for work? Not so much, which is why I need an extra pair of hands around here, so if you're up for it I'll grab the form."