Snapshots

There is a time for departure even when there's no certain place to go.

- Tennessee Williams

It was just past five o'clock on a Friday afternoon and the streets were bustling with activity. Traffic polluted the roads and the sidewalks were packed with bodies and bicycles. He weaved his way through the throngs of people, unsure of where he was going, but quite certain he needed to end up somewhere at some eventual time.

Since he had left his house this morning at a quarter past ten, Wade had gone for a coffee, bought a new pair of shoes, picked up a few comic books, gone for another coffee, met a pretty girl, rescued a kitten from a tree (for no reason other than he was bored), gone for another coffee, met another pretty girl, bought a goldfish, gave his goldfish to a boy on the bus, gone for another coffee, played guitar with a homeless man, and was now unsure of what was left to do with his time.

His days were numbered, that much he knew. Maybe he had hours to live, maybe minutes. One could never be sure when their clock would stop ticking. Wade had decided, long ago, to live every minute. He didn't sleep more than fifteen minutes a night. Not only was there too much caffeine in his system, he just had too much to do before his life came to an end.

It was killing him, this thing that his doctor had called cancer. This thing that his doctor had caught far too late to do anything; it was killing him. Of course, Wade had killed his doctor, but that didn't change the fact that he would be dead soon as well. When looking at it from the other end, death wasn't as peachy as he had thought.

So, for three months, five days, eight hours, twenty-two minutes, and thirty-seven seconds, Wade had not killed a single thing. Not even a fly. Well, maybe a spider or two, but they were too creepy to be allowed amongst the living. Wade knew he'd be joining the spiders soon. He wasn't too fond of that thought.

He wore long sleeves and pants in the summer heat of Chicago as to not let the world know he was dying. He wore sunglasses to hide the bags under his eyes and to hide his eyes from the Sun. He went out every morning at a quarter past ten; unsure of what he would do that day, but knowing it would never be a wasted one.

Wade stopped suddenly, people bumping into him from behind and mumbling rude remarks. He didn't care. He didn't even make a witty comment back. He didn't have the time to waste. Not when he finally realized what he was going to do next.

Suicide had never been an option for Wade. He could dish out death like the grim reaper, but everything changes when you're about to die. He was scared shitless of closing his eyes and never having them open again. There was no way – no bullets, no pain killers, no jumping – no way in hell that he would ever do himself in. But now he didn't have to. Standing there, across the street in front of Starbucks, watching him ever so carefully, was a man Wade knew all too well. The one with the creepy fingernails. Victor Creed.

Wade crossed the street in the gridlock traffic, unafraid of being hit as everything was at a complete standstill. Victor watched him with amused eyes, a grin spread ear to ear.

"Good to see you Wilson," Victor chuckled, his bare arms rippling with muscle. Wade gave a cheeky grin.

"Missed you, you old murdering psycho. How's Jimmy?" Just because he didn't usually mess with people anymore didn't mean he had forgotten how to. Victor tensed at the use of their old team mate's name coming so freely from Wade's chapped lips. "Feel like a coffee, Vicky?" Wade nodded his head towards the Starbucks door two feet away.

--*

"You look rough," Victor commented as the two men took their seats at the back of the coffee shop, "You on a diet or something?"

"You could say that," Wade grinned, "Coffee and pills, pretty much. Sometimes celery and animal crackers." He always enjoyed annoying Victor. It was something he had wanted to do again before dying.

"You know," Victor said, "Stryker set me here to offer you a deal."

"Really now?" Wade let his jaw drop slightly with his sarcastic tone. Victor tapped his dirty nails on the wooden table, letting them grow slightly in warning. Wade remained unfazed.

"Personally," Victor continued, "I never liked you. I still don't like you. I'd rather just kill you, but I'm supposed to remain, uh, civil."

"Civil people cut their finger nails," Wade said in a patronizing tone, enjoying the fact that Victor put slight scratches into the surface of the table. After a composing breath, Victor grinned.

"Stryker's got a project. He wants you to help with it."

"And what's in it for me?"

"I don't kill you once you're done your latte…"

"It's a Frappucino," Wade interrupted.

"I don't kill you once you're done your latte," Victor repeated, "And we cure you cancer. You get to live and you get to keep killing."

Wade tried hard not to choke on his frozen drink. Come to think of it, he was unsurprised that Stryker knew. What surprised him was the fact that he was being offered another chance. He had always, for some unfathomable reason, gotten the impression that Stryker didn't like him all that much.

"So, what's it gonna be Wilson?" Victor was staring at him intently, waiting for him to decline so that he could kill him. There would be no more cancer and there wouldn't have to be a suicide. Just Victor's nails digging through his flesh, taking him out of his misery. Wade envisioned the scenario within his mind, finally realizing how truly gross it would be to get stabbed by those unsanitary…things he kept on his fingers.

"I'm up for another adventure," Wade grinned, "Me and you, right buddy?" He leaned forward and playfully pinched Victor's cheek before getting up and walking out of the coffee shop, waiting for his new playmate. Things were certainly starting to look up for Wade Wilson.

Author's Note:

I don't own X-Men or anything like that.
This is just a series of one-shots based upon things that happened in and around X-Men Origins.
I appreciate reviews and constructive criticism.
I'm also up for suggestions of things people would like to see written about.
I hope you enjoyed this. Please review.

-Viviene