X-Men - Strange Bedfellows

Strange Bedfellows


Ororo’s first impression of Wade Wilson was good.  He was cute and funny, and the positive effect he had on Logan’s peace of mind was only slightly less obvious than the nose on her face.

Then again, the first time she met Wade Wilson, she had about five minutes before students would start pouring into the study for college-level world history, and all Wade had the time to do before she asked him to wait in the hall was smile, wave, and say, “’Sup, Cocoa Pebbles?” (immediately followed by Logan putting a hand over Wade’s mouth).

Logan warned her about their shared para-military past, and about Wade’s shaky grasp on concepts like nonviolence, sharing, and consequences.  Treat him like a four-year-old who never shuts up and always manages to get his paws on sharp, dangerous objects, Logan had said.  A little worrying, but they’d dealt with all manner of mental instability, including things like regression, autism, and post-traumatic stress.

Her second impression of Wade Wilson was that he had issues with punctuality.

Of all the senior staff, only Alison and Logan were likely to excuse tardiness, and Logan was probably in the process of dragging Wade to the briefing room for the meeting.

“Why exactly are we here?” Emma drawled, crossing her legs and raising her eyebrows.

“We’re here, Miss Frost, because the headmistress called a meeting of the senior staff,” Wanda replied smoothly.

Emma glared.  “Thank you, Dr. Maximoff.”

Sometimes, Ororo wished for fewer women in the house, since men were generally easier to pacify or manipulate.  She took a deep breath and smiled at the X-Men (‘and X-Women,’ Wanda would have made her add, if she’d said it aloud) seated around the briefing table.  “Well, I’ve been hoping to introduce you to a temporary houseguest Logan brought to the mansion today.  I thought I’d made it clear to Logan how crucial it was that we all agree to let this guest stay, but it looks like he’ll be here in his own time, as usual.”

There was some muttering, some eye-rolling, some good-humored chuckling.

“Under most circumstances,” she went on with a half-shrug, “it wouldn’t be a problem to allow someone new to stay with us—Charles always stressed that the mansion was an open sanctuary—but this…person…is not a child and is not helpless, and I know Scott would have agreed that we have a responsibility to make sure the students are safe.  I’d like you all to judge for yourselves whether you feel we should let him stay or not.  And Hank, I’m glad you happened to be visiting, because I want your opinion, too, both as mutant ambassador and as a doctor.”

“Well, they’re only four minutes late,” Alison said with a glance at her watch.  “When I was in school, we gave the teachers ten.”

“My dear Alison,” said Hank, “I hardly think some extenuating circumstance has arisen since Logan’s return to the mansion earlier, barring calamity or unexpected inj—”  He trailed off, looked toward the door, adjusted his spectacles.

“Hank?” Ororo asked, following his gaze.

“Ye gods and beasts,” Hank yelped, just as they heard voices approach in the hall.

By the time the door slid open, Hank was downright gaping.

Logan steered Wade in with a hand on the back of his neck.

Ororo saw Sean flinch as though in recognition, but he didn’t say anything.

“Good t’ seeya again, Furball,” Logan said, and nodded to Hank.

“Is he okay?” Wade asked, pointing.  “His eyes are really big.  Maybe he has too much caffeine in his diet.  And is he supposed to be blue, or did somebody spill the raspberry Kool-Aid?”

“Wade, shut up,” Logan muttered.  “Stop talking.  That horrified look on his face is from hearin’ your babblin’ from the minute we stepped off the elevator.”

“Ooh, right, ix-nay on the ociopathy-say.”  Wade made a zipping motion across his mouth.

“Ociopathy-say?” Lorna murmured to Alison with a meaningful look.

Emma stood.  “Wade?”

Wade immediately scampered around the table to her and hugged her off her feet.  “Ella!”

“Emma,” she coughed in correction.  “Wade, please put me down before I have to hurt you.”

He obeyed, but made some very inappropriate gestures at chest-height.  “Lookit you, you got taller!  You got boobs!  Wow, twenty years was a good investment for you…what are those, like a double-D?”

“Yes.  And you don’t look the way I remember you at all, even considering that we were both lab rats at the time.”

“This is all very touching,” Jean-Paul interrupted.  “I believe we were called together for a reason.  Ororo?”

She smiled at Wade and gestured.  “Well, I see you know Emma.  Would you care to introduce yourself to the rest of the senior staff, Wade?”

“I’m Wade Wilson, and I’m an alc—wait, wrong speech…”

Near the door, Logan just shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Wade, please don’t waste our time,” Emma said primly, taking her seat again.

Ororo gestured around the table.  “Jean-Paul Beaubier, Sean Cassidy, Dr. Lorna Dane, Alison Blaire…Emma Frost, of course…Dr. Henry McCoy, and Dr. Wanda Maximoff.  Ladies, gentlemen—do you have any questions you’d like to ask Wade before we agree to let him stay at the mansion?”

“Yes,” Hank said dryly.  “Perhaps Mr. Wilson would care to explain earlier comments on the subjects of sociopathy and disposing of gophers with plastic explosives while simultaneously excavating for an outdoor women’s mud-wrestling arena.”

Alison stifled a snicker.

“I don’t remember saying anything about sociopathy,” Wade said innocently.

“What was your last occupation, Mr. Wilson?” Lorna asked him.

He blinked at her.  “Is that your natural color?”

“Yes.  Answer the question.”

“Okay, okay, sheesh.  Wow, you X-types are so high-strung…  Let’s call it…freelance high-risk extraction, retrieval, and disposal.”

“In other words, a mercenary,” Hank explained.

“Only if the word ‘mercenary’ doesn’t have particularly negative connotations in this room,” was Wade’s answer.

“At least it means he probably knows how to safely excavate with plastic explosives,” Alison said brightly.

Wade pointed to her.  “Yes!  Listen to the nice lady over here who reminds me of a rock star.”

“Do you have any…talents?” Jean-Paul asked delicately.

“Oh, sure, lots.  You should see what I can do with a cherry stem, elf-boy.”

Alison was snickering again, and doing a poor job of hiding it.

“The word ‘talents’ was a polite euphemism,” grunted Sean.  “He means ‘do ye have any mutant powers?’”

“Do you?” Wade returned in a tone of offense, as if the very question were a violation of his privacy.

Sean stood and scowled, hands braced on the tabletop.  “Yes.”

“Please, don’t demonstrate,” Ororo cut in.

Hank eyed Wade.  “At the very least, a highly accelerated metabolism, from the sound of that heartbeat.”

“He’s good!” Wade cheered.  “Can I be on his team for charades?”

“And why not mention the other interesting mutant gifts, Mr. Wilson?” Wanda drawled.

Wade made a blank face for a moment, as though caught at lying and trying to quickly think his way out.  “Oh.  Well, yeah, I mean, I heal kinda fast, too, and maybe I can sorta end up not-dead when I shouldn’t…”

“Come now, you’re being modest,” Wanda said darkly.  “You see, Emma isn’t the only one who recognizes your name and face, Weapon Eleven.”

Hank, having worked with the government, inhaled sharply and turned to stare.

Wade made a show of looking around and pointing to himself.  “Weapon Ele—what, me?  Ah, c’mon, lady…  Look at me, I’m a nobody, a mook.  Do I look like some kinda highly trained, computer-programmed, genetically altered mutant-hunting machine to you?  Wow, even I’m not convinced by that.”  He looked distinctly guilty and uncomfortable.  “Don’t worry, Stryker lost the remote somewhere under a few tons of rubble.  I haven’t seen big, stern white letters in twenty-some years; the only voices I have in my head belong to me, although there are admittedly still a lot of those—but the number’s going down!  Also admittedly, I’ve killed a whole lot of people, but I was always well paid for it, and I’m really not helping my case, am I?  Jamie, Emma, you guys maybe wanna chime in, here?  A timely ‘shut the hell up, Wade,’ would not go amiss.”

“Weapon Eleven?” said Ororo.  “What is that?  Hank?”

Hank took his spectacles off.  “Weapon Eleven was the last iteration of the Weapon Projects, which were part of the Deadpool Program.  The driving concept was that mutations, being genetic in origin, could be spliced onto an appropriately receptive DNA strand, effectively giving a person, even a non-mutant, someone else’s mutant abilities.  There were theories that only some parts of the body required this modification, depending on the mutant power, others that every strand had to be altered with a cascading serum…it was never clear which theory won out, though I personally suspect that it would depend upon the mutation.  Originally, the complete weapon would undergo strenuous behavioral conditioning, but a computerized control chip, with the right software, could, in theory, suffice.  With access to Logan’s nigh-unstoppable healing abilities, the idea of the Deadpool Program becomes a truly frightening possibility.”

Wade was edging toward the door.  “Okay, wow, that sounded like one of Cornelius’ speeches.  Remind me not to let the blue dude near me with needles or knives.  Really, what’s so frightening about little ol’ me?  It can’t be the voice—everybody loves my voice.  I’m dead-on for a slightly manlier Demi Moore, and who doesn’t like Demi Moore’s voice, right?  It’s not my ass—people are constantly telling me I have a nice ass, and that’s not scary at all, although some of the things Inez says she’d like to do with my ass are a little scary.  I’m only a little above average height, I don’t run around threatening people very much, I don’t have fangs or claws…”

“The swords, Wade?” Emma prompted.

He froze, slowly grinning.  “Uh, what swords?”

“The ones in your arms.”

It was like dealing with a twelve-year-old.  Ororo heaved a thick sigh.  “Wade, please be honest with us.”

“Are you kidding?  If I’m honest with you, you won’t lemme stay, and Jamie likes it here.”

Emma stood again.  “Wait.  Wait a minute.  Jamie?  The one you went through all that awful shit for?”  She pointed to Logan.  “He’s Jamie?”

Wade looked at Logan and then back at Emma.  “Did I forget to mention that?”

Slowly, Emma sat.  “Well, that changes the shape of the landscape significantly.”

“Is that good or bad?” Wade asked her with a suspicious frown.

Emma turned to Ororo.  “I think Wade would behave himself quite well, if the alternative is that we turn the two of them out on the front step.”

“Yes, I’ll behave!” Wade agreed quickly, nodding.  “I’ll be good.  I don’t bark at night, I’m house-broken, I don’t chew the furniture, I’ll sleep at the foot of my master’s bed, I only hump people’s legs when I’m asked to—”

“Wade, shut up,” Logan growled.

Wade flapped a hand at him.  “Hush, muffin, I’m busy being ingratiating.  Would it help if I pouted?  What about Sad Puppy Face?  I have the world’s best Sad Puppy Face; it even works on killer mercenary cat-mutants and supervillains.  I’m cute.  I’m funny.  I’m a veritible potpourri of pop-culture knowledge—I never lose at Trivial Pursuit, ask anybody.  I make a great bodyguard for defenseless little baby mutants.  I can teach a sixty-pound girl to disable a three-hundred-pound man.  I can speak more than ten languages.  My mental math skills could make Tony Stark wanna marry me, if it weren’t for the fixation on Captain America.  Really, I could go on forever, so stop me when I’ve sold you.”

Ororo sighed again.  “Logan?  You trust him?”

“With my life,” Logan said promptly.

For her, that was enough—Logan didn’t trust anyone—but she was a leader now, and couldn’t afford to think only of her own opinion.

“What about the children’s lives?” Sean countered, turning in his chair to stare sharply at Logan.  “What about my daughter’s life?”

Logan met his stare.  “Yes, I would.  Wade’s a lot of things, including a little bit nuts, but he ain’t a baby-killer.”

“Oh, hell no!” Wade laughed nervously.  “No way.  Except maybe by accident, if a building I was in were to, hypothetically, come crashing down as a result of unforseen circumstances that would in no way implicate me.  Uh, I mean—could you repeat the question, Your Honor?  I plead the fifth!”

“Yes, he’s certainly winning us over with talk like that,” Jean-Paul muttered.

“Oh, you guys, he’s kidding,” Alison tutted.  “He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would knowingly endanger the students.”

Wade grimaced and made some vaguely placating gesticulations.  “Sorry, I’m trying to concentrate, but it’s hard sometimes.  I have legitimate brain damage to explain that, I can get a doctor’s note and everything.  Okay, yeah, I’m a little messed up, but what uber-secret government science project isn’t, right?  I mean, I’m the genetic equivalent of a fruit cocktail, thanks to Stryker’s goons.  It’s not like I did it to mysel—okay, so I kinda did do it to myself…there was a waiver and it was eight pages long and there was all this fine print and I woulda told ‘em to go screw themselves and to hell with not having a legal leg to stand on, but then Colonel Asshole said I could see Jamie again if I was good and I hadn’t seen him in like six years and it was really messing me up like to the point that people were turning up dead around me for no reason that I could remember and I should really shut up now.”  And he closed his mouth with a click of his teeth.

Hank put his spectacles back on.  “I, for one, cannot stand idly by when my skills could be of assistance.  Clearly, Mr. Wilson needs to be examined for the sake of his mental health, if nothing else.  I believe Charles would have wanted us to do everything in our power to help him.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Alison.

Wanda shrugged.  “Why not?  After all, we can always fling him bodily out the front door if he misbehaves.”

“Sean?” Ororo called.

“This is all very ambiguous,” Sean said.  “A lot of nose-in-the-air, politically correct pussyfooting around the subject.  So let’s get it out in the open, shall we?  Logan, what exactly is this murderous idiot to ye, that you’re so hell-bent on having him stay?”

“Not that it’s any o’ yer goddamn business, Irish,” Logan hissed, unsheathing the claws of his right hand.  “Ex-lover that I’m workin’ to make a little less ‘ex.’  And if ya care t’ repeat the phrase ‘murderous idiot’ in that tone, we’ll see whether those pipes o’ yers can knock me cold before I rip ‘em out.”

Wade slowly reached out and patted Logan’s shoulder.  “Jamie, honey, you’re not helping.  We’re trying to convince them it’s a good idea to leave us on the loose with a bunch of bouncy little brats, not that you’d roast the little bastards on a spit if they mouthed off.”

Sean snorted and finally sat back down.  “He can stay, for now.  But only because Wanda’s right, and we can always kick his arse all the way down the road, if needs be.”

“Don’t say it, Wade,” Logan muttered.

“Not saying it,” Wade obediently answered.

“Jean-Paul?” Ororo finished, looking at the French-Canadian.

He shrugged.  “For now, I see no reason why he shouldn’t stay.  If he happens to prove otherwise, well…”  He waved a hand.  “…forcible ejection seems to be the favored solution.”

“All right,” Ororo said.  “Wade, there’ll need to be some ground rules set.  First and foremost, those children had better not ever have access to any weapons or munitions, the only exception being kitchen knives—and you will not give them any ideas about being irresponsible with those.  Clear?”

“Clear,” Wade chirped with a salute.

“Second, during the bulk of the year, this is a school, and you will respect it as such.  Also clear?”

“Ummm, I take it you mean that I should lay off swearing, smoking, drinking, and other adult pursuits in plain view of the impressionable youths?  Because I kinda didn’t finish school, so it’s not like I respected it as an institution, overall.”

Cute he may be, but the persistent ‘I’m so dumb and harmless’ act was wearing on her patience.  She stared at him coldly (and dropped the room’s temperature a few degrees for emphasis).

“Right.  Yes.  Clear.”

“And third, if you ever willfully endanger the life of a student, I will personally barbecue you before I have Peter throw you as hard as he can toward the lake.  He’s got a good arm, so you might even make it to the other side.”

Whether from the threat or from her tone of voice, Wade was cowed, and meekly took cover behind Logan.  “Yes.  Gotcha.  Totally, one hundred and ten percent crystal clear,” Wade said.  “Like, Blu-Ray clear.  Transparent aluminum clear?  Have I got the right crowd for that?”

Ororo relaxed.  “You’ll have to go with Hank to the infirmary for a checkup.  After that, feel free to make use of the mansion and its grounds—within respectful and reasonable limits.”

“Do I have to get a checkup?” Wade whined with a childish pout.  “I hate checkups.  I hate doctors, no offense to the smokin’ hot green-haired chick.  Can we just agree that I’m physically healthy and mentally not?”

“I’m sorry, Wade, but I think it’ll be best if Hank looks you over.”

“Perhaps I should go with them,” Emma suggested.  “He knows me, and I have a better idea of what he’s been through than anyone here.”

“And Alison, please,” Hank put in.  “I have a feeling I won’t be able to sedate Mr. Wilson by chemical means.”

“Got it,” said Alison.

Ororo nodded.  “All right.  Thanks for your time, everyone.  See you at dinner.”

“Can we not use the word ‘sedate’?” Wade asked as Logan dragged him out of the briefing room and down the hall in the direction of the infirmary.

“I’d skip the labcoat, Hank,” Emma called.

“Might want to start the lightshow, Al,” grunted Logan.  “He’s not nearly as calm as he looks.”

“Yes I am, I’m totally calm, perfectly calm, the very picture of calm, if you looked up ‘calm’ in the dictionary, it’d say see Wade Wilson, so obviously we don’t need to give me a checkup of any kind, especially involving doctors or a need to be sedated,” Wade babbled, digging his heels in so that the soles of his boots squealed against the floor.

“Like taking a cat to the vet,” Ororo mused with raised eyebrows, and followed Sean and the others to the elevator while some very childish and insistent shrieks echoed through the sub-levels.


.End.