I do not own any of the X-Men or any other applicable Marvel property.
This story takes place in the X-Men Evolution universe.
The Taste of Your Heart
By Remedy=Chill
Wanda was too late.
Again.
She watched the small dot on the horizon that she knew to be her father vanish in to the newborn sunrise.
"One day" She promised herself "There will be no more sunrises for you."
She turned to stalk off moodily when she saw him.
At first she didn't recognize him. He wore no mask now. Just another short, stocky man carrying a package.
From a place she had tracked Magneto to.
At four fifteen in the morning.
On one of the coldest nights of the year.
A short, stocky man who was lighting a cigar. And heading for his motorcycle.
"Hey. You." Wanda called out. The man stopped, and set his package on the seat of his motorcycle.
"Yeah?" He eyed her suspiciously.
"Do you know what time it is?" She was reaching, but it did, kind of, sound like him.
"Sure." He smiled now, pulling up his sleeve. "It's almost four thirty."
Still unsure, Wanda stretched out her right hand.
Suddenly Wolverine felt the pressure. As thought he were caught between a giant thumb and forefinger.
It was instinct that betrayed him. Had he gasped and choked or simply flailed helplessly within her grip she might have let him go. She might have thought she was mistaken. She might have felt remorse. But instinct is a powerful thing; Especially to someone who has known as much pain as Wolverine. And the claws came out of their own volition.
"I knew it." She half lied as she eyed the package.
The package flew from the motorcycle seat to her extended hand. Wolverine fell to the ground and landed easily.
"Give that back!" He growled and lunged at her.
"Don't be absurd." Wanda flicked her hand in his direction and planted Wolverine in to the weathered brick wall behind him. With a casual wave of her hand Wanda dismissed him, as the bricks took on the form of hands that took a firm hold of Wolverines wrists and ankles.
Wanda turned her whole attention to the package.
It was not what it had appeared. Rather than being square and covered in paper as she had first thought, it was dome shaped and wrapped in a leather jacket.
She pulled loose the knotted sleeves and unfolded it.
Wolverine had begun to growl, but brick hands from either side laced their fingers over his mouth and threatened to drown him by pulling him back in to the wall.
Just then, a police car turned on to the road. The two officers inside looked at Wanda, and then at the man strapped eight feet high on the wall. Then back at Wanda. As they rolled past the officer on the passenger side used his nightstick to make a hat tipping motion toward Wanda who nodded back in return.
The car then turned left and vanished.
Wanda returned her attention to the package. She unzipped the jacket and pulled the object out of the sleeve interior.
"What are you doing with this?" She asked out loud, knowing full well that Wolverine could not reply.
She let the jacket fall to the street below and she held up Magneto's helmet.
"Why do you have this?" Her eyes burned with curiosity and rage.
Wolverine tried to muster a reply, but the brick hands offered no leniency.
"Shhhh." She told him. "I wouldn't believe anything you SAID." She smiled sweetly, like a spider must smile as she proposes dinner to the fly.
The street below Wanda swelled and lifted her to look Logan in the eye.
"This is going to hurt." She told him blankly as she dropped the helmet and slammed her hands on to his temples.
Immediately, a searing heat blinded Wolverine. His visual field went a steady shade of green and from within that color Wanda walked slowly and calmly over to him.
"This is where you show me everything." She told him. "Show me why you came here tonight."
The helmet appeared between them. It floated freely, rotating slowly to the right.
"Why did you want it?" She asked.
And the helmet vanished. It was replaced by the image of Wolverine, wearing the helmet and using his claws to kill Xavier.
"Really?" Wanda smirked, looking in to Wolverines eyes as the astral form of the astral brick wall held him as tight as it's counterpart in the real world. "Why?"
And the scene changed again. It showed Xavier sitting at a great computer with a divided screen. On each screen he monitored as one X-Man killed another and Xavier sat smiling.
Wanda's eyes flickered from screen to screen until one showed Cyclops dressed in a nondescript black suit. He was killing Magneto.
"This hasn't happened." She said, eyeing the screen more closely.
"Why do you think this could happen?" She demanded.
And she saw Xavier again. This time he was softer. Kinder. Asking Wolverine's help. And the scene changed. I showed Wolverine attacking, killing, and maiming. He was killing each X-student. Over and over again.
"But why?" Wanda tried to wrap her head around the whole thing.
And then she saw it. Magneto turning on Xavier. Becoming a threat. And Xavier, gasping as it happened; Unprepared.
"Unprepared." She thought out loud.
And the horrible truth dawned on her. Xavier was concerned. Afraid his X-Men would need killing. And who better to do the job?
"And Xavier wanted you to kill him if it became necessary?" She couldn't believe it.
And the images came in a torrent. Dark and brooding images, like the dark shadows of a candle flicker, Wolverine documenting plans to circumvent the powers of all the students, holding simulations in the danger room, always quiet, never giving away any clue about what he was really doing. And then she saw him submitting the report. A dossier on how to kill the X-Men.
And she saw the nightmare. How long had he worked at killing the X-Men? At drafting this report on how to do it? Was it any wonder that he couldn't let go? That the idea invaded his dreams? That the sad truth was he couldn't sleep anymore without knowing that he could kill Xavier to preserve Xavier's dream?
Wanda stepped back and the green world began to fade. As it receded the world around them returned to normal. The walls let go and rippled like water until they were once again flat. The ground sank down again until Wanda stood upon a normal sidewalk.
"How did you get him to give it to you?" She asked as she handed the Helmet back.
Only Wolverines eyes betrayed the residual pain. "I grabbed that Cajun punk." He tried to smile despite the pain "Still can't believe he was worth it." He took the helmet. "Of course, it didn't hurt that I told Mags it was to kill Xavier if that ever became necessary."
"And he just agreed?" She marveled at the idea of a cooperative Magneto.
Suddenly Wolverine was quiet and wanted to avoid her gaze.
"Tell me what it is." She spit the words through her teeth as the ground gave a slight tremor.
And he looked her right in the eye. "I think he was glad to give it to me. I think he wanted me to do it. Not because they're enemies. But because they had been friends. Because he couldn't do it himself." The pain was almost gone now and Wolverines natural indigence was rising to the surface.
"You see," He continued "You can be a killer. You can feel nothing and no remorse." He made sure she was listening "So long as you don't really know the guy you're killing. But when it's a friend, the best you can be is a hunter. Because the guilt is coming sweetheart. The guilt, the regret and the loss. But a hunter understands what he's in for. A hunter understands that the sacrifice of others keeps him alive."
For a moment Wanda wanted to tremble. She fought down the urge.
"But really darling, I don't expect you to get it. Because I see the way you look at Magneto. And I know. You want to be a killer. You're so far gone that you couldn't find the regret or remorse necessary to be anything as human as a hunter; And with the one exception that HE at least USED TO HAVE FRIENDS" He almost stopped. He almost bit his tongue. It wasn't all her fault – But it was her responsibility to fix "You're just like your old man."
His words cut her deeper than any claw ever could.
"The only difference between good and evil for people like us is weather we're protecting the innocent or punishing those we feel are guilty. And you should really consider what it is you're looking to do when you finally do catch up with Daddy."
"Why?" She asked softly, intimately wounded.
"Because in the long run little girl we all become exactly what we hate. "
And Wolverine swept up the helmet. He re-wrapped it in his jacket and climbed on to his bike.
He left her standing there alone, under a streetlight, wishing she could cry.