I made another fic! This one is solely Wolverine centric. This is darker than I normally write so please keep in mind the warnings! Also a bit of this fic is the movie, but just from Logan's side of it.
Inspired by This Post by Midnightdrag0ns ( @midnights-dragon ) on TikTok!
Word count : 6,848 words (my hands hurt)
CW : ⚠️Alcoholism, ⚠️mentions of SH and thoughts of s-side, survivor's guilt and heavy grief, swearing, hurt/angst (very little comfort at the end), possible spelling errors (not reviewed)
edit : Forgot the title woops
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Guilt isn't always a rational thing. . .
Guilt is a weight that will crush you whether you deserve it or not.
- Maureen Johnson
𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔
No sleep for the innocent.
Logan's head was spinning, his thoughts all a blur as his throat burned from the familiar liquid he had become so dependent on.
Not for you.
A little voice rang in the back of his mind, a bitter sound that haunted him. His own thoughts, an awful reminder of what he still had. A functioning conscious. How miserable. The calloused finger tips of his index and middle fingers tapped the wooden surface of the bar. Another drink. As his healing factor started to clear his liver, his blurry thoughts were almost clear once again. And he heard it.
"Logan!" The familiar voices rang out his name. Voices he longed to hear once again. Voices he didn't want to hear in his head. He wanted to hear the sounds against his ears, feel the touch on the shoulder or the face. The comforting scents, the comforting caresses. Everything he lost, he wanted again. To make things right. . . But it was one of God's best jokes that he couldn't die. No matter what he did. No matter how hard he tried. His body would always recover, and the cycle continued.
Did you forget?
You have blood on your hands.
As Logan was given another drink by the bartender, he paid no attention to what was said to him but he knew. He wasn't welcomed here. He wasn't welcomed anywhere. A blight. He'd failed everyone; his people, his team, his friends, his family. All because he went out one night and got shitfaced. He left when they called for him. He always walked away. . . And it was his biggest regret.
On your lips.
Logan's lips found the rim of his glass, drinking down another cup. His tongue tingled, taking down the flavor of the bitter drink. His throat burned once more and his stomach churned. The booze in his gut sloshed ever so slightly as he started to sway a little in his seat, but the affect wore off so quickly he could barely remember the feeling. He wanted to he numb in every sense of the word. To be deprived of feeling, sensations, responsiveness. He wanted nothing more than to feel nothing. But maybe it was life's way of punishing him. Keeping him alive as some sick joke. To remind him that he walked away with his life, and his companions. . . Not so much. His eyelids felt heavy as he closed them for a moment, the memories of what happened replaying like a broken projector, stuck on the same movie.
"Come on, Logan, stay! We have beer in the fridge, if that's what has you so preoccupied." Jean spoke with a gentle tone, trying to convince him to stay.
"Honestly, Logan, you should cut back." Scott pestered, as always.
"Spend dinner with us, Logan. You always run off." Ororo tried to persuade him.
"Why didn't you stay?" Charles's voice echoed. That's not what he said. Logan knew that, but he knew that Charles thought it when the mansion was attacked.
"Logan! Help us!" The collective voices got louder and louder, screaming for him. The begging and crying grew louder, like a choir of banshees ready to attack. The anger, the hate. It was all at him. And that was justifiable for what he did. A drunkard monster, abandoning his friends for booze and they're left to die by the hands of humans. No one to help them. To help him.
The guilt was heavy on his shoulders. On his chest, his mind. He should have stayed. Why didn't he stay? Why was he so stubborn? He had nothing now. Nothing but the suit under his coat to remind him of everything he once had. That stupid yellow suit everyone always used to bother him about wearing. Why? He wasn't an X-Man. He would never be an X-Man. That was long gone, long over.
On your teeth.
Logan opened his eyes, the heavy tiredness pushed back by the rushing thump of his heartbeat. The glass in his hand was now empty once more. He grimaced, and soon tapped the bar again to get the bartender's attention. This time his focus was on the full bottle as it was brought over, and when the bartender told him that he was no longer welcomed, Logan just rolled his eyes with a scoff. As the man continued, he wasn't welcomed anywhere and to get the fuck out, Logan's tired expression remained.
"Jus' give me one more drink an' then I'll leave. . ." His words were slow and surprisingly quiet compared to his usual gruff and bark-like tone. He didn't have anything to do or anywhere to go. Like the man said, he was welcomed no where. The night he lost everything, he really saw red. He had been the judge, the jury, and the executioner. Everyone was guilty in his eyes at the time. Every human, every person who stood in his way. Man, woman, anyone he saw a threat. He took down. It's been a while since then, but he still saw the blood on his hands every once in a while. The holes in his knuckles that held his claws. The weapons he used. To be what he was created for. Destruction. To fall so hard from the expectations held up for him. So much hope, so much care, love. He had so much, and it was gone from him in the blink of an eye.
"That's not how it works." The bartender spoke firmly, eyes still narrowed on the mutant drunkard. Out of the corner of his eyes, Logan spotted something. . . Odd. A scent caught his attention. A familiar scent, but also so foreign to him. His nose twitched a little, trying to pinpoint the scent, which fell unto the masked figure in red next to him. Great, what a clown. Who the fuck was this guy? Here to poke fun at the oh-so-great Wolverine? Fantastic.
"It does now." The stranger spoke, the white eyes of the mask focused solely on Logan, which only made him agitated. His life was already shit enough, he didn't need some dude dressed up playing hero to bother him. Logan was no hero. Not anymore. He was a monster. "Leave the bottle." The man's tone was much more serious, head tilted towards the tender for just a moment, before right back at Logan. What a fucking joke.
"I know you, bub?" Logan eventually spoke, eyes half lidded with a slight hint of confusion, but also hidden agitation. He wanted no part of this. He just wanted to drink. And drink. And drink until he couldn't remember his own goddamn name. But life just had to make him live to see 200 and over.
"Nope," The man in red spoke, the 'p' punctuated under the mask, "but I know you. . ." He spoke calmly and lowly, which just made Logan more annoyed. No one had spoken to him like this in a long time. It was foreign to him at this point. Every conversation was hate and anger. Not gentle. This stranger must be a foreigner or a goddamn moron.
"Everybody knows me. . ." Logan murmured in a bored, almost defeated tone as he gave a lazy nod to the man in red, looking away from him. "I'm the Wolverine. . ." He was almost bitter about it. . . Almost. The tags tucked under his suit, a reminder of his past that he long forgot. The only names he knew written on it. But he didn't feel like Wolverine suited him anymore. That was the name of a hero. He wasn't a hero. Heroes don't kill innocent people. Heroes don't go in a blind rage and attack on sight. And heroes don't let their family die all because they wanted to get wasted.
"Yes you are. . ." The stranger continued, his tone of voice sounded like he may be smiling under the mask, but it was really hard for Logan to focus at all on that. He just wanted to drink still, to be left alone. He was better off alone. Better off dead, if he really thought about it, but he knew better than to think like that. Nothing would give him that mercy. It was wishful thinking. "And I'm gonna need you to come with me right now." The man continued on, still focused on Logan. The old mutant was almost flabbergasted. Almost. But he felt annoyed, and almost insulted. Who was this fucker to come waltzing over and make demands for him to go somewhere? He looked the man up and down, not exactly disgusted but he definitely had a look on his face that showed he didn't seem too keen on that.
"Look, lady. . . I'm not interested." He stated firmly and boredly, not wanting to entertain this conversation any longer. He held his hand a little to wave off the man, shaking his head as he looked back at his glass.
"Really getting into your cups --" The stranger started to speak up, but was almost immediately cut off by Logan who really didn't want to have this chat any further.
"-- Why would I go with you?" Logan grumbled, clearly still under the affects of the alcohol he's drank, but it wasn't enough to silence the voices in his head. His left hand went up, index finger pointed out to poke the masked stranger right between his eyes, with just enough force to push the man's head back with a small thump. That probably would have hurt or been uncomfortable for any other person due to his metal bones. But the red man didn't seem too bothered by it. At least in the moment. Logan's gaze was still on him, almost looking dumbfounded with his head tilted to the side like a confused dog.
"Because, unfortunately," the man began, "I need you. And even more unfortunately, my entire world needs you." He continued almost firmly, still talking gently however with a lowered voice so no bystanders heard, but this bar had a few people in it, and they were all staring at the idiot in red. The moment was quickly interrupted by voice piping up from behind the bar, in a jestful tone.
"Are you two gonna fuck or fight?" He snickered as the bartender approached the two. The man in red turned his attention to him, almost like he was insulted that someone dare interrupt their important conversation. Logan, however, could care less as his gaze went away to the countertop of the bar, his hands still on either side of himself on the bar, glass still empty in front of him.
"You gonna take that from him?" The red man raised a brow under his mask as he asked the question, as if curious to know who the ex-hero would react to such a thing said to him. Logan didn't care, he rarely cared. That was nothing compared to the other things that have thrown his way. Insults, slurs, threats. You name it, he's heard it for sure.
"Yup. . ." Logan mumbled as he glanced at the other man before away once again, he was used to this after all. Why would he fight back now? It was nothing. But the man in red found it humorous apparently. With a snort and small chuckle, he shook his head a moment and sighed.
"I can tell you sort of have a 'don't get too close, I'll only break your heart' vibe going here," the chatter box continued as he waved his hand by Logan to address his whole 'vibe' going on, "BUT, every other Wolverine would have really hurt me by now and I'm sort of on the tick tick," he gestured to his wrist and tapped on it, but Logan couldn't care less as his gaze was on his empty glass once again, ignoring the gaze of the stranger in red. Man this guy was super annoying. "So," he stood up and moved behind Logan to get him up off the seat, "Upsy daisy!" Was this guy STILL talking? Logan barely had time to react, his body still reeling with the affects of the alcohol he's drank. Before Logan knew it, he was lifted up which did startle him a little but he was mostly confused by it and really agitated. How the hell could this guy get him up so easily?
"Woah, woah. . . Hey, hey-! " Logan tried to protest as he was moved up and off the seat he had gotten so comfortable on that now left him almost cold and his legs a little tingly from sitting for so long.
"I got you big guy!" The man sounded like he was smiling under his mask. Logan managed to pull away from him in annoyance, glaring at the stranger as he stumbled a little when an all too familiar snikt came from his hands. Logan staggered a bit as him and the stranger looked down at his hand where his claws just barely poked through the knuckles. Logan grumbled a bit, of course his mutation would be affected by his drinking, no shocker there. The pain shot through his arm, but he was so used to it that it didn't even bother him at this point. No gloves or slots to correct the path his claws went. The man in red looked almost. . . Amused? Disappointed? It was really hard to tell when his face was covered up and his eyes didn't give much away.
"Oh!" He seemed surprised at first, having to do a double take as he looked at the small claws then up at Logan, then back at the claws, noticing the small bit of blood drip down from the healing wounds. "Whiskey dick of the claws. . . It's quite common in Wolverine's over 40." The man seem to joke, he definitely had a smile under his mask at this point. He snickered a bit, deeply amused by the whole situation, that was for sure.
"You don't want this. . ." Logan murmured with a frown, shaking his head ever so slightly as he looked at the stranger, still a bit staggered on his feet, out of his mind at the moment as he could barely stand straight while looking at the other man. However, before he knew it, the man in red pulled out a pistol from his holster and pointed the end of the barrel right at Logan's face. Logan, even in a stuper, could hear the familiar sound of a click as it was held up. His ears twitched a little, and the man in red spoke once more.
"You're right. . . And you don't want this." He spoke seriously, a stern look was probably on his face but it was hard for Logan to imagine. This guy acted like a circus clown, and not the funny kind. As Logan looked at the barrel, his blurry eyes managed to focus on the engravings.
Smile. Wait for the flash.
It took everything in him NOT to laugh at that as he still staggered on his uneven footing. That was almost priceless, if he was going to be honest. Now he REALLY couldn't take this guy seriously at all. What a fucking joke.
"Unless you want to take a deep breath through your fucking forehead, I suggest you reconsider. . ." The man threatened so casually like he was used to saying stuff like this. Like he did this for a living or something of the sort. What kind of idiot gave this moron a gun? "Let's go, Peanut." He said sternly with a small huff. Logan couldn't help but snort a little, amused by it all as a smile slowly came to his face, sharp canines bared to the man as he leaned against the barrel of the pistol, showing no signs of backing down or leaving with him. He looked tired, that was for sure, and that grin seemed strained yet also slightly genuine. Maybe a shot to the head would put him out of his misery. But he doubted the holder would actually ever pull the trigger. How unfortunate for him, the immortal freak. But Logan couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips as he looked at the red man.
Smile for the camera.
His grin remained as he held up his index finger for a moment, still chuckling like he had actually been told something funny by the circus clown.
"Hold on, hold on, hold on. . ." Logan peeled away from the gun, and his focus turned to the bar and grabbed the bottle of alcohol from the counter. "Watch this." As he grabbed the bottle, he moved back to the red man, the whole attention of the bar was now on them. As he turned back to look at the gun, he grabbed it with no hesitation and no fear or worry for his life or wellbeing. "Alright, that will-" His hand was still on the gun, his movements staggered and words a bit slurred as the man pointed the gun right back up at Logan. "Easy." Logan huffed, still amused by this little game that had come to be. His grip was firm on the barrel as he tilted his head back and started chugging down the contents of the bottle, ensuring that he was being watched the entire time.
"Good god. . ." The stranger seemed surprised and a bit exasperated. Logan grunted slightly as he continued to nurse the bottle. He tried not to laugh as he did so, breathing through his nose. "Thirsty little honey badger, aren't ya?" He tilted his head to the side with an amused grin, chuckling. Logan's nose flared as he breathed heavily while taking down more and more of the bottle with no break, still focused on the almost empty glass. He had become so engrossed in the beverage that he eventually let go of the gun, his arm falling to his side as he kept drinking it down. "It's okay, keep going. . ." The stranger continued to watch, amazed but also a bit concerned for this guy cause holy shit, this was not a normal thing people did. Logan continued to gulp down the drink, still breathing through his nose and grunting a bit. Logan began tilting his head back further with the bottle as it neared empty, no longer focusing on whatever the man was rambling about now. Once it was finally done, Logan let out a satisfied groan and looked towards the man in red. With the bottle still in his hand, his vision got very blurry and his eyes started to roll back as he fell unconscious, no longer aware of his surroundings as his heavy body hit the floor with a thud, the floorboards creaking under his weight.
* * *
In the middle of nowhere, the red and yellow duo drove the the void, somehow now in a forest. Logan hadn't been paying attention, he's just been driving the Honda him and Wade, - the stranger that held him are gun point at the bar -, had gotten from a nicer counterpart of Wade's. Nicepool or some sap shit like that, he didn't care. He just wanted to get back to his universe and get everything fixed like he'd been promised. He was deeply annoyed with Wade, this bastard came into his life and had to flip it upside down for no reason other than to save a universe that had nothing to do with him. Also, the music in the car was starting to drive him nuts. This music sucked. Even after drinking the rubbing alcohol at the abandoned diner, he really wished he had more booze. He hated being sober, his shoulders and chest heavy once again as he sat in the drivers seat, agitated with Wade. The voices were getting to him again, voices he'd longed to get over but knew he'd never get the peace. The blood was on his hands, the souls weighed his conscious. And his mood only got worse as Wade tried to talk about his suit. The suit that he never wanted to wear until the people he cared about were ripped from his life by a bunch of selfish assholes who couldn't accept that they were different, and had to snuff out their flames. He didn't like the negative connotation Wade was getting at about the X-Men. What the fuck did he know? Wade dropped the X-Men, his X-Men. But that didn't mean the Merc with a Mouth could talk about his X-Men like that. Not his team. Not his friends, his family. Wade had no fucking right. But soon something caught his ears.
"If they fix--" Logan didn't bother listening to the rest of that sentence. The fuck did this guy mean if? He promised his world would be fixed. That he'd get the ones he loved back. That he'd get to see Scott, Jean, Ororo, Hank, Charles, everyone. Alive. That he'd get a do-over and fix his mistakes. To never leave his loved ones again. Logan's emotions got the best of him, as always. And he slammed on the brakes with little to no warning. Words were said, and claws found their way into Wade's thigh quickly. There was heavy tension in the air, and Logan was at his wits end. He had enough, he couldn't take this idiot seriously any longer. A wish? A fucking educated wish? It felt like his heart and soul were ripped out of his body all over again, and what little hope he had to fix things was gone.
"You know what?" Logan started with an agitated tone, clearly upset that Wade had lied to him, in the most ridiculous way possible. Maybe he was the fool for believing in this idiot. "You're a fucking joke," he continued on, "No wonder the Avengers didn't take you or the X-Men, and they'll take fucking anyone! I mean, you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. I have never met a sadder, more attention-starved jabbering little prick in my entire life, and that says a lot because I've been alive for more than 200 fucking years, and I'll tell you, that bald chick was right about one thing: you will never save the world!" His words were harsh and bitter, and maybe a little projected onto the other Canadian that had genuinely pissed him off. Logan was definitely an outlier in the 'nice Canadian' stereotype. Then again, he's been through hell and back and barely remembers half of it sometimes. "You couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper! Motherfucker, I wish I could say you'll die alone, but it's one of God's best jokes that you can't die, except that's on ALL OF US!" As Logan got more heated, more angry, raw with pure emotions as he hit the roof of the car, his breathing was heavy. For a moment, just a sliver of a second, there was a moment of regrets to his words. A moment of remorse, but it was gone just as fast as it came and the man snarled a bit, canines bared to the other. "Well, you got nothing to say, Mouth?" He was pissed off and it showed, face contorted in anger as he waited for a response from Wade, and as the silence went on, his breathing got a little softer, almost like a pant from a dog, but it was short lived when the other finally spoke up.
"I'm gonna fight you now. . ." Wade muttered. It was hard to tell if he was being serious or not, and honestly Logan couldn't tell. Nor did he care. He'd never be able to take him seriously, not after that lie. But Logan couldn't hold back a laugh, ready to call his bluff.
"Oh? Are you?" He raised a brow with a snort, ready for this to be over already until he was met with a hard fist to the face. He was stunned by this, shock in his eyes as he stared at the other blankly as he felt an almost unfamiliar feeling in his nose. He hadn't been punched in the nose in a long time. That couldn't have felt good to Wade either, a fist straight to the metal skull. A warm liquid dribbled down from Logan's nose, and as Wade had stated, a fight was soon in pursuit.
* * *
No sleep for the innocent.
Not for you.
Did you forget?
You have blood on your hands.
On your lips.
On your teeth.
Smile for the camera.
The voices rang in his head, he couldn't escape. He'd carried this pain, this guilt, for so long. He let everyone down. His universe, his family. He let everyone down. All for a drink. A fixation he couldn't break. Because of him, he was left alone, to walk the miserable world with immortality. No matter how man gashes he gave himself, no matter how hard he tried to disembowel himself, every method he could possibly think over, he couldn't end it. But the pain still lingered. He always felt the pain, even when his healing factor took affect. He always felt the pain, and felt like he deserved it. He knew the others would be disappointed in what he's become, but what could he do? He was exhausted. He sat on his knees, in the darkest parts of his mind. The grass was tall, a breeze going past as a white shirt clung to his figure. He sat there, feeling completely defeated as the voices rang out. He left them all behind. He walked away. He always does.
"Trust me, kid. . . I'm no hero. . ." Logan murmured, nursing down a bottle of whiskey as Laura accompanied him at the fire, against his wishes.
"That suit says different. . ." She spoke calmly yet firmly, her eyes going from the fire then back to Logan. Logan let out a small huff, almost a sound of amusement at her words.
"You like it?" He asked as he raised a brow, looking at Laura who seemed to give a small nod of acknowledgement. "Scott used to beg me to wear it. . . So did Jean. . . Storm. . . Beast. All of 'em. . .They wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn't. . ." His voice shook a little as he spoke,his gaze falling to the half empty bottle in his hands. He knew they'd be ashamed of what he's become. "Told 'em they all look fuckin' ridiculous, an'. . ." He trailed off a little, glancing to the side for a moment, then to Laura once more. "I couldn't have 'em thinkin' I wanted to be there. . . And one day, while I was off on my own, the humans came and went mutant huntin'. . ." His voice broke ever so slightly, head down as he remembered the events that fell. Nothing got rid of the bitterness in his heart, and the regret that ate at his soul. Would things have been different if he were there? Maybe. . .
"Whoever you think I am, you got the wrong guy. . ." He remembered speaking to Laura, a girl who had been saved by a better version of himself. He could vaguely see the resemblance; she was strong and fierce and mouthy. But she knew what to say. From the little time he got to know her, she was better than he was, and he was damn sure that his variant would be proud of the person she was.
"You were always the wrong guy. . . Until you weren't." She had told him at that campfire when he was drinking himself to memory fog. Those words definitely hit something in him.
Even as Nova tried to 'sympathize' with him, to entice him to join her so she could make the voices go away. To get the screaming to stop. To stop all the sounds, all the pain. He didn't trust her, not one bit. But it was part of the plan. When the area went quiet, he felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders, like he could breathe easy again. But he knew it wouldn't last. He didn't deserve the peace. It was too quiet. . . He couldn't handle it, but he had Nova right where they needed her. And it was only a matter of time when Wade finally got that stupid helmet on Nova, that she finally got out of his head, and Logan felt the rush hit him like a train. The pain, the voices, the screams that fell upon deaf ears when he was in a blind rage, it all returned to him. It was a bitter comfort. Silence was unbearable for him. He closed his eyes, and when he returned to reality, he got to his feet quickly as Wade seemed about ready to let Nova die in the Juggernaut helmet.
"This suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. . . . And what I did. . ."
What he did. . . The biggest fucking mistake of his life, and he's made lots of mistakes over his 200 years of living on this goddamn rock. He's been through hell with experiments for a shitty government. He's forgotten most of his life, and what little bits and pieces he had to remember were only in his nightmares that would always fizzle from his mind the moment he was conscious and in a mess of his torn bedsheets and blood. The blood was on his hands. It always had been. Their faces, God their faces. Always haunted him, always made him feel even worse. The faces of his team, and the faces of those he took his anger out on. He couldn't fix his world, it was doomed from the start. The least he could do, with what will he had left to keep fighting, he had to make sure at least someone remembered who they were. The real X-Men.
"For the first time in my life. . ." Logan's eyes felt wet as he spoke, fighting back the shakiness in his voice. "I am proud to wear this suit." He states firmly, still fighting back tears as his voice wavered, his emotions pure and raw in the moment. "It means I'm an X-Man. . . I am THE X-Man!" Saying those words felt odd, but. . . Needed. Like he'd lifted a heavy weight for his lungs. He could breathe easy, despite the fuzzy vision he had in the moment. With pride, and confidence he had long neglected, he was happy to call himself an X-Man. As much as his life sucked hell, he couldn't let their memories go.
* * *
After the party and saying by to Laura, Logan stepped away from the door so Wade could talk with his friends as they left down the hall. It was. . . Different. And this whole thing would definitely take some getting used to. He helped clean up the small apartment, putting dishes in the sink and trash in the bin before making his way to the couch. He took off the blue-green flannel he wore that evening, taking a deep breath as he laid down, his white T-shirt clung to his figure, dog tags draped over his collarbone with a small jingle. He closed his eyes, flannel over the armrest of the couch as he used it as a pillow, arms crossed over his midsection. He didn't plan on falling asleep yet, just to shut his eyes and wait for Wade. He wasn't really paying attention, not even realizing he was dozing off until he heard a voice.
"Logan!" The voice sounded. . . Happy? It sounded like Jean.
"Wake up, you overgrown Chihuahua!" He could practically hear the snarky grin on Scott's face.
"You always love to keep us waiting, don't you?" Beast scoffed, the sound of fur against fabric could be heard from him shaking his head. He grunted as it sounded like someone elbowed him.
"Cut him some slack, he's had a long day." Ororo could be heard next, a small chuckle escaping her lips. Logan slowly opened his eyes, greeted by a bright light. Was that the sun? How? It was 8pm, he was sure the sun was down by now. His eyes adjusted to the light, and his heart almost dropped at the sight before him. It was everyone. Scott, Jean, Beast, Storm, Kitty, Rogue, everyone. Even the man himself, with that familiar sound of the chair.
"Professor. . ?" He didn't understand. Where was he? This had to be a dream, right? A sick dream his mind made to torment him further of his past misdeeds.
"Logan. . . It's good to see you again." Charles Xavier spoke sincerely, a small smile on his face. He could see the confusion, the uncertainty. "This isn't a dream." He tried to reassure, but knew that those words could only go so far.
"Well, if it's not a dream. . . Where am I? What is. . . All of this?" He sat up from the tall grass, soon standing. He'd never seen it so bright here before. So full of light.
"You know where this is. . ." Charles spoke calmly yet firmly, knowing that Logan knew. When it finally clicked, Logan stepped back.
"Why are you here. . ?" He asked, a bit hesitant. He didn't know if this was real or not, and if it was, he was struggling to hold himself together. Jean and Scott moved close, and Jean was the first to touch Logan, her caress gentle on his face. Logan felt like he was hit by a tidal wave, the rush of warmth he had missed so much from his companions. He relaxed into her touch almost immediately, the familiarity there. Then he felt Scott pat his shoulder. He remembered the bickering and rough housing, how they were always at each other's throats. He was trying not to cry, but it only got harder.
"You know why we're here, Logan. . ." Scott spoke surprisingly softly to him, squeezing his shoulder a bit. Jean smiled warmly.
"We're proud of you. . ." She tried to comfort him, but it was clear that time had not been so kind to Logan after all these years. Slowly but surely, everyone made their presence known by physical contact, and the dam broke. Tears started to drip down his face, like someone had turned the faucet all the way on and broke the handle. It wouldn't stop. He'd never cry in front of his teammates, never in a million years. Yet here he was, shaking before them. He hated being vulnerable in front of others, normally it was his biggest weakness. But right now, he couldn't stop it. Faces he'd thought he'd never see again, never see smiling. Let alone smiling at him of all people.
"You're a damn good X-Man, boy. . ." Hank let out a gruff compliment, patting his back. Logan felt awful, he didn't deserve any compliments or praise.
"I. . . I'm sorry. . ." Logan's voice finally broke and cracked as he mumbled out an apology. The others were confused at first, but all their expressions softened.
"Logan, listen to me. . ." Charles spoke up once more, moving closer to him as the others moved carefully. "Look at me." He requested. Logan was hesitant, which was unlike him, but he slowly lifted his head, looking at the old man. Charles smiled softly, hands in his lap. "You were. . . By far one of my most difficult students. . . Some days I didn't know if you would stay or truly run off and never return. . . You were a wild card, and sometimes you still are. . . Even now. Despite what you may think, or how you perceive yourself. . . You're a good man at heart. No one is immune to mistakes, hell I've made my fair share of mistakes in life. . . But you are as stubborn as they come. You cared not for rules and you could be very troublesome. . . But you are not what they made you. . ." He states, a warm yet tired smile on his face. Logan still had tears running down his cheeks.
"B. . . But I. . . I left. . . I walked away and--" Logan was trying to keep it together, but he was very emotional right now.
"You didn't know it would happen. . . No one did. . . It's not your fault, Logan. . ." Jean tried to comfort him again, smiling gently at him to assure him. But Logan didn't buy it, how could he? Because of him, they were all on their own. He could have done something to help.
"Stop focusing on the 'what-ifs', Logan." Beast scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's been done is done, the past cannot be changed. . . All we can do is learn from it, and ensure that it never repeats again." For once, Logan thought, for once that big blueberry of a mutant finally said something that made some sense to him.
"You've been so caught up in your mind and the world before. . . But you've been given a new chance, Logan. . ." Charles spoke once again, the sun shadowed by a few clouds now. "You have a chance to make things right. What happened is in the past. . . You must move on, and pave a bright future. . . Not just for yourself, but for those around you as well." He moved back a bit, and so did the others, the talk grass shifting from the breeze. Logan looked around as everyone backed up, he rubbed his eyes as he sniffled.
"I. . . I can't move on. . . I can't forget you guys. . . What I did. . ." Logan looked down at the grass, fists clutched.
"Moving on isn't forgetting. . . It's remembering and no longer hurting. . . Missing someone just shows how much they meant to you, right?" Jean smiled, humming softly as she stood with Scott.
"One of the biggest steps in healing is acceptance, Logan. . . It's okay to let go." Scott held Jean's hand, those ruby red shades covering his eyes, but they had a gentle look to them.
"It's not goodbye forever. . . Just a see you next time." Rogue spoke up, smiling softly towards Logan, hands at her sides.
"Yeah, we'll just. . . See you another time." Kitty smiled softly, hands in her pocket. Logan was quiet, besides the small sniffles as he tried to keep himself somewhat together still. Acceptance sounded like a curse. But he couldn't continue to drown himself in anger and hate and guilt. He had to work to improve. The past could haunt him, could haunt his nightmares, but he'd never forget the best people that had ever entered his life. He took a deep breath, and he nodded.
"A. . . Alrigh'. . . I uhm, think I'm ready. . ." Logan was a bit hesitant, but knew that this is what he had to do. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in. He opened his eyes with a tired grin. "I may have never said it before, or really shown' it. . . . But I love you guys. . . You meant a lot to me. . ." He mumbled.
Sure, not everything was perfect all the time. There were disagreements, fights recklessness, lots of stuff. Both good and bad. But Logan didn't regret meeting the X-Men. He just wished he had more time with them. His gaze was on the grass, and when he looked up, everyone was gone. But in their place stood new foliage and fauna. Plants of different colors and different arrays of beauty where everyone once was. Peter Pears grew tall and entangled with Red Orchids. Garden Grape-Hyacinth grew a few feet away, White Roses too. Platycodon Grandiflorus grew where Kitty once stood, and so many more floura grew, overtaking the tall grass to be a meadow, no longer an empty space of trees and stones and pain. Logan was heartbroken, but the sight brought him comfort, in an odd way. Knowing that now, they were never too far away. They were still around, even if he couldn't see them, smell them, or hear them. They were there, and that brought him ease. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and soon closed his eyes as the sun got brighter. When his eyes opened again, he felt. . . Lightened.
"Logan?!" Wade was right in his face, not exactly a pretty sight to see first thing. And definitely not something he needed to see right when waking up. His heart jumped in his chest, and he quickly sat up, his forehead smashing into Wade's as he moved. Wade winced and stumbled back a bit, but soon laughed loudly, relieved that Logan wasn't dead. Logan rubbed his head for a moment, before feeling something drip down his chin. He touched his face, and he felt tears. Had he been crying in his sleep? He turned to look at Wade, which was when he also noticed Althea with a bucket of water.
"Well, is he dead?" She stood there, ready to throw it on Logan like Wade had originally planned for her to do. Wade grinned, taking the bucket from her.
"Nah, he ain't dead. Just a heavy sleeper. Guess that's to be expected if he hasn't slept properly, Wolverines sleep in three to four hour cycles regularly. And this one clearly doesn't." He snickered with a big grin. Logan rolled his eyes, smirking a bit as he shooke his head and snorted.
I wish to join this adorable Peggy talk. She has a uniform for every dorm. The students thought it was only natural she have one of each. Also she’s treated like a celebrity at unbirthday parties, she’s a VIP. Only the best for Peggy and she sits right next to Riddle.😌
Okay but now you have soke ray dog in a mini crown like riddles, a mafia boss fit and I imagine super flowy robes for pommefior.
But can you imagine also the Savanaclaw sports clubs using her as a mascot to show off how "fierce" They are and Peggy is just :3
Jackie’s staring at the new cardboard cutout in the living room, eyes opening wide as he freezes in place. He’s surprised by it because it’s a life-sized cutout of Deadpool. Jackie had always wanted one, but never had the time to sit down and purchase one, plus he hadn’t been sure the others would appreciate it as much.
“I wanted to surprise you later,” Chase says sheepishly. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon, but...it was Marvin’s idea. We all know how much you wanted one, so we all sorta chipped in and...” Chase trails off when he realizes not a word is getting through to Jackie.
Jackie’s rubbing his hands together excitedly, with a sort of nervous excitement. He’s also rocking back and forth on his feet, giggling quietly to himself as he stares at his favorite hero, right there in their living room.
“Chase, I-” Jackie finds it almost hard to talk. He has to pace around, running his fingers against the smooth cardboard, muttering to himself. “You didn’t-” He’s not on the verge of tears, but he’s trying to hold himself back, for Chase’s sake. He doesn’t want to weird him out or anything-
“Take your time, Jackie,” Chase says patiently. He can’t help but smile. It’d been so long since he’d seen Jackie stim like this, and it makes him happy that such a simple pleasure can bring Jackie right back into that mindset. “You’re alright; keep going if you need to.”
“You don’t mind?” Jackie shoots him a grateful look. Of course Chase knows what he’s thinking, the two are practically one mind.
“No, of course I don’t mind. I love seeing you happy!” Chase moves closer, resting a hand on Jackie’s shoulder. “Take all the time you need, and when you’re ready, I’ll help you move him to your room, okay?”
“...’kay.” Jackie giggles to himself as he starts rubbing his hands together again, bouncing happily on his feet. He has Deadpool in his house, who wouldn’t be elated over it?
He flaps his hand and snaps his fingers, unable to stop grinning or stop staring at the cutout. This is definitely the best day ever!
tbh, when the disney/fox thing goes through, I hope they just let deadpool stay in his own little universe with b-list x-men and his own supporting cast.
he’s already so disconnected from any continuity that it’s not a big deal if the x-men get rebooted, let deadpool be, just make deadpool 3 as if nothing happened. if you need to incorporate colossus into the mcu then leave him out of the deadpoolverse.
the x-men cinematic universe, however cannot end fast enough, i am done with it.
