Thank you to all my lovely reviewers and followers. Here is the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!
Note: I'm in the process of deciding if this will be a "triumvirate" with Cayden, Gambit and Deadpool or if it will be a Deadpool/Gambit story with Cayden in a sister/mom roll. Or her with one or the other. Thoughts? Votes? Feedback and preferences would be much appreciated.
Chapter 6
The first thing I recognize is the smell of wet concrete. With the smell come memories of the past few...hours? days? Who really knows at this point? As I move to sit up, remembering my earlier nausea, I notice a pinch on the back of my hand that can only mean I've been given an IV. A vision of Wade, prone on the hospital bed, floods my mind and I panic.
I have no reason to trust that what's in that IV is good for me. In a rush, I pull at the medical tape on the back of my hand and have just about pulled out the needle when gentle hands enclose mine.
"No, no, no" I mumble still confused and panicked. "Not okay, not good…"
I try to pull at the needle again but whoever is holding me back is a lot more coordinated, if not stronger, than I am at the moment.
"It's okay Rocket. It's water, it's just saline."
Hmmm, that must be Wade, with his pet-name fetish. I hear a chuckle and belatedly realize that I must have said that out loud.
"It's okay Princess, I've been known to entertain far more exotic fetishes than pet-names."
His voice is still rich and soothing and I still have no defense against his charms.
"Promise?" I reply, before I really understand what I'm implying.
I'm sure a blush rips across my cheeks as he begins to laugh freely.
"Oh no, don't get bashful on me now. I'm a big fan of your mouth…ah yeah, both literally and metaphorically. Though I'm more familiar with the later than the former. Wouldn't mind knowing both though. Do you like kissing? I like kissing. I also like swords, katanas mostly, but anything will do in a pinch. Mostly, I like sharp things, yeah? Do I need a hair cut? I bet I do. Like to keep it short. Don't want it getting in the way when I'm trying to kill some dude. Have you ever…"
Wade is unceremoniously interrupted by Erik's smooth tenor.
"My dear, how are you feeling now, hmm? Better with some water?"
Part of me is grateful for the interruption and part of me is annoyed that I never got to see how much longer Wade could have gone before taking a breath. That was a seriously impressive stream-of-consciousness ramble. It thought I was good, but Wade can make it an Olympic sport.
"A little better." And I smile with the statement, half at Erik and half at Wade who seems to brighten considerably with the information. "What happened?"
Wade is clearly about to launch into, what is sure to be an entertaining and entirely unhelpful, explanation when Mystique's voice demands all our attention.
"You had a panic attack"
Awesome, waita look cool in front of my fellow badass mutants.
"Uhhh…"
Mystique continues. Oh good, there's more.
"Wade noticed that you had a fever which prompted a half-assed medical examination."
I tense at the implications and Erik's eyes narrow. After a moment he seems to come to some sort of conclusion.
"We were all present during the examination and you were treated with dignity, if a bit more roughly than Mr. Wilson preferred."
At this, Wade is the one to blush and I wonder what kind of fuss he must have put up after I passed out to make a hardened mercenary blush like a 12-year-old girl.
He's still shirtless and I take a moment to do some of my own "examining." He really is a beautiful man; cut, that v-shape to his the muscle in his lower abdomen that makes my heart pound, and the most gorgeous brown eyes and earnest smile. All in all, the sexiest deranged puppy I have ever seen. Bless his heart.
"The examination confirmed a moderate concussion, severe dehydration, and some abnormal brain activity that they are attributing to your mutation. Do you know anything about that?"
Huh?
Mystique and Erik both look genuinely curious while Wade has begun to stare at my head as if he can actually see the abnormal activity.
Dork
"I don't, actually. I've made a pretty significant effort to stay off the radar. I've never had any readings taken, at least that I know of, so I really don't know what my baseline is, much less what would be considered abnormal for me."
All three look as though they'd been expecting that answer. There's a tense silence in the room after my admission and I struggle to find something else to talk about.
"Where is everyone else?"
Mystique rolls her eyes and it seems that it's Wade's turn to talk again. He looks positively elated. I brace myself for the tsunami of words. He doesn't disappoint.
"We'll after you fainted, which was pretty dramatic and cute by the way, Sanders, I like that nickname, I thing I'll keep it, freaked out. I think he was worried he broke you before you could do what you were brought here for. The doctor-lady, lemme know what you come up with for her, came over and started with the examining. She ordered some stuff that the other goons ran off to get for you and then they made me put you down, which sucked because you're warm and it's cold in here and no one will give me my shirt back which I kinda understand because really, look at me, I'm totally smokin'. And then they hooked you up to stuff and the doctor-lady, we'll call her Janet for now, Janet noticed the funky brain waves and they all freaked out a bit and shut down the room. I think they were worried that you were gonna pull a Carrie, which would have been sooooo cool. Could you? Do we need blood? I can get a pig…or a guard."
He has not once stopped to take a breath and even Erik and Mystique are looking at him with reluctant respect. Classic. Time to interrupt before he pops a vain or something.
"Okay, so they'll…what? Wait until they're reasonable sure I'm not going to burn down the town and then come back in and we all start again? That sounds profoundly boring." I scrunch up my face in frustration. "How about you continue with your story about why they want me here to begin with?"
I'm reluctant to encourage his chatter, more for the sake of Erik and Mystique rather than myself. I find his never-ending narration soothing in this nightmare place.
"Oh right," he states, looking surprised at the reminder that none of us are here voluntarily. "Um, okay where was I? Oh yeah, the 'kinda' right before Sanders tased me. You're right you know, that does freakin' hurt. How do you know it hurts? Did they tase you? What the fuck!"
"They did, apparently," Mystique interjects.
She's watching Wade with an expression of curiosity and I'm pretty sure my thoughts match hers. It's sweet, comforting even, but why does Wade care about me at all? He seems attached to me for more than just what I could potentially do for him. He even seems genuinely offended at the idea that someone would hurt me. It's too much to consider right now and I motion for Wade to continue his story, only realize that he has begun pacing and muttering to himself.
"Fucking assholes. Tasers? Really? She's just a girl, not even a healer. Why the hell would they do that? I'll fucking kill'em. That's a good idea! Good job Wade, just kill them all with something sharp and then…"
I stop his pacing and ranting with a hand to his forearm. It seems to surprise him once more that there is anyone else in the room with him. I recall his statement about being "mentally unstable" and I'm beginning to see how that might be the case. However, as much as his behavior seems to make everyone else uncomfortable, I've only seen evidence to this point of someone with pretty severe ADHD.
"I guess they were worried I'd scream. Let's not talk about that right now. We don't know when they'll deem it safe to come back in and I'd like to have more information about what's going on before they do."
He seems both incensed and focused by my words and moves to continue the story.
"Okay, yeah ummm, it kinda worked because I wasn't really done baking when they took me out of the oven. Stryker had removed my eyelids, which sucked, permanently closed my mouth, which is just fucking rude, and programmed me to do whatever he ordered me to do, which was really boring, until he ordered me to kill Wolverine and I guess I kinda…well, I lost which is really embarrassing. He chopped off my head, which I totes forgive him for, and I fell into one of the stacks. I got lucky though cuz my head kinda rolled back toward my body and got close enough to my neck that I actually started to heal. It took a long-ass time and I guess Sanders found me after a while and started this project to 'reactivate' me. After doing the prelim exams, Janet realized what I've got a serious problem…"
I don't know whether to laugh or cry at his telling of this story. I can tell its all true by the resonance in his voice (another element of my gift that I'm not telling anyone about, for now.) It's all so horrible and I don't know if I can handle more, but I have to know what they want from me…if I'm even capable of doing anything for him.
"What's the problem?"
My voice comes out as a whisper betraying my shock at his gruesome story.
"Cancer."
What?!
"What?"
Not what I was expecting
"Cancer, I had cancer before the project started and the docs missed it. With this rapid healer gene, it's kinda freaked out the cancer and it's starting to metastasize at an insane rate. They need you to stabilize me; my brain and my body, or I'll be useless and they'll have to liquidate my part of the program and start again on Weapon XII."
"Liquidate as in mafia. Like, kill you because they fucked up and you have cancer and crazybrain?"
He laughs at the incredulity in my voice and I realize that my naiveté is showing. Of course they would kill him for it. To them he's nothing more than a broken piece of equipment and if they can't fix him they'll throw him away. I hate this!
"Okay, fine. I guess in a stupid military, megalomaniac way (Erik pulls another Spock eye-brow lift. Oops, forgot who else was in the room) that makes sense. So they want me to cure whatever mental health issues you have and, throw in a little cure for cancer along the way? Have I got that right? Right, okay, nothing I haven't done before because…oh wait, I haven't done that before because it's fucking impossible! Oh my god, what is wrong with them. Why do they thing I can do anything about this, not that I don't want to because you sure as hell don't deserve to suffer anymore, much less die for something you can't control but …"
Wade hugs me. Honest to god, hugs me.
"You are so adorable!"
I can't believe that is his response to my near-panic rant. I don't pull away from the hug, because really, who would? I do, however, look up into the one way windows that are so clearly for observation and ready myself to make my opinion of this known. Just as I'm about to start screaming at them for being so fucking stupid I catch Mystique's eyes on me.
She seems amused by the entire scene anticipating the next ridiculous exchange between Team Sanders and Team…Us. Whatever!
"Careful cheri, no be sense en showin' all your cards jus' yet."
Ah, good. Now I'm hearing voices, Cajun voices if my memory of Waterboy serves. Adam Sandler movies are absolutely a valid source of life-information. Thank you.
But, I remember that sweet cadence from before and can't help but agree with the advice. There's really no sense in Sanders knowing I can't do what he wants me to do. And in the meantime, maybe Erik and Mystique can finagle some mutant-flavored awesome and get us all the hell outta here.
"Good thought," I project back. "But, ummm, why can I hear you? Or why can you hear me? Or both?"
"You tell me, cheri, it es your ability, en not mine, dat makes des possible."
Good to have that confirmed. Clearly we need a rescue so…
"Can you find me? I'm kinda in trouble here."
"Non, I cannot cheri, not widout havin' at least some idea of where ta look. I could track ya' from some distance but not if we be across dis world from eachoder."
Figures. Okay, next step gather intel. If I could give him a place to start, maybe I can stall until help arrives. With enough clues we might just make this work.
"Mystique? How far do you think we traveled from where they picked me up?"
She's startled by the abrupt change in conversation topic and may just be about to answer my question when Wade interrupts.
"You want to know where we are, right?"
I nod my head as much as I am able since I'm still wrapped up in his arms. This guy was not hugged enough as a kid, clearly.
His response is so matter of fact it takes me a few seconds to realize what he said.
"Oh, that's easy. We're on Three Mile Island."
Really? That is easy, I relay the info to the Cajun in my head.
"We're on Three Mile Island. Do you know where that is?"
"Baise!"
That can't be good.
French Translations:
cheri = darling
non = no
baise: Fuck
Thank you all!
I also beta should anyone need the service.
Arwen Thandiel