Chapter Text
Falling. The moment Wade was able to process that he was falling from the sky at rapid speed, his back met the ground. Freezing cold enveloped him, the amount of blood he was losing not helping this in the slightest.
Funnily enough, the agony he was in almost kept him warm in a way. Like when you scrape your knee or break your arm, the injured area feels hot from all the blood rushing to it.
After a moment, the pain of his spine splitting in multiple places and the back of his skull fracturing was enough to make him black out.
As his consciousness faded he could distantly hear something else crash-landing nearby, accompanied by a sickening crack. A few birds in some nearby trees fled at the sound.
The blue sky got hazy, and suddenly he was out.
♡
By the time Wade woke up, the sky was a few shades darker and he was covered in a fine layer of white powder. Cold white powder. Snow. It seeped into his suit, chilling him to his core and making it difficult to move. He was in less pain than he was earlier, though, whenever ‘earlier’ was.
Snow was still falling steadily, and it likely wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. The ground beneath him was stained red, deeper saturated in some places than others. He noticed with dread that he still hurt .
Wherever he was, or whatever happened to him, it was affecting his healing factor. He slowly sat up, noting the way it felt like his back had been set on fire. Like someone had hooked up his spinal cord to a car battery. His head hurt worse than any migraine he’d ever experienced, worse than how the cancer had made him feel. His vision was blurry as he tried to stand, surveying the unfamiliar world around him. His legs were wobbly, like that of a fawn.
Something was horribly, horribly wrong.
Wade’s eyes landed on a dark spot in the snow not too far from where he was, a lump of clothing and flesh. Recognition sparked in his brain and a cluster of memories hit him like a ton of bricks; Holy shit, it's Wolverine.
Panic filled his senses as he trudged through the snow, stumbling every so often. He willed his stiff limbs to keep moving, knowing if he stopped now he would probably collapse with no guarantee of getting back up. Snowflakes melted into his skin through his suit, and his breath came out in plumes of smoke through his mask.
He approached the still figure, a pit forming in his stomach as Wade saw the icy landscape ridden with blood, similar to the state he’d found himself in earlier. He dropped to his knees at Wolverine’s side, bracing himself on the other man’s shoulder.
With great effort, he pushed him onto his side so he could get a better look at him and assess the damage. He had a pretty bad gash across his forehead, and his right arm was most definitely broken (if the weird angle it was bent at was anything to go off of). Wade’s eyes locked on something silver sticking out of a rip in his sleeve, which was also drenched in blood.
Upon looking closer, it was bone– or Adamantium, if you wanted to be particular about it. But it was part of Wolverine’s skeleton.
Wade fell back, suddenly feeling sick.
For a man who’s killed well over hundreds of people and just earlier massacred a whole group of TVA soldiers using only the dug up remains of his universe’s former anchor being, he was having a pretty visceral reaction to a broken arm on a man that he’s known for less than a day. A flesh wound.
But the gore wasn’t what bothered him– it was the fact that the flesh hadn’t stitched itself back together. Wolverine’s healing factor was fucked up too; And somehow, that scared him more.
It was like seeing God bleed. It was terrifying.
Wade slowly sat back up, hunched over Wolverine, looking for the telltale signs that would show he’s alive.
He had flashbacks to Sister Margaret’s– Weasel vaulting himself over the bar counter after a brutal fight had gone down, holding a tiny mirror under the nose of a passed out (potentially dead) patron to see if it fogged up or not.
Money was passed around. Another point would be added to the Dead-Pool.
If Wolverine was breathing, it wasn’t obvious. Wade reached out with shaky hands, pressing two fingers to Wolverine’s throat to check for a pulse. Just below his jaw, along his carotid artery.
Warmth bloomed in his fingertips, followed by a dull thumping. His heartbeat was slow, but still there. His body still held some warmth. Relief washed over Wade, and he nearly started crying.
His solace was short lived when it dawned on him that they were stranded out here, wherever the fuck ‘here’ was. Also, Wade had no idea how he was going to lift up an unconscious Wolverine. The man was two hundred something pounds of Adamantium and muscle.
He’d lifted him before, or rather dragged him, a few dozen feet through the TVA portal. But that was when his spine wasn’t fucked up, and they also weren’t in the goddamned arctic.
Wade looked down at his comrade with pity, beautiful even when his face was smeared with blood. What a douche.
Wade took a deep breath, prayed to every deity from every religion there was, and hooked his arms underneath Wolverine’s to lift him up. His broken body protested as he dragged the man out of the bloody, slushy snow pit.
He was able to drag him for a couple yards before collapsing, Wolverine landing unceremoniously on top of him.
Wade grimaced at the trail of blood that followed them. He could feel the air being pushed out of his lungs. His ribs would probably snap if he didn’t move soon.
He hauled himself and Wolverine back up, choosing a random direction and walking that way.
Wade had been wandering aimlessly for about fifteen minutes before his arms gave out and he dropped Wolverine again. He landed gracefully in the powdery snow.
Wade threw his head back in annoyance, unleashing a stream of curses directed at no one in particular. His shoulders slumped forward and he looked down at the man in the snow, for a minute contemplating just leaving him there.
Colossus’ voice echoed in his head: ‘Four or five moments, that’s all it takes’ To be a hero, righttt.
Despite his muscle fibres being torn to shreds at this point, Wade managed to haul the man over his shoulder and continue on their journey to nowhere. He sure hoped that this would all be worthwhile, that the pathetic alcoholic currently breaking his back could actually help him save his timeline from fading out of existence.
He was putting in a hell of a lot of work to keep him alive, when Wolverine would probably try to kill him the second he gained consciousness. Likely, before Wade would have the chance to give him a rundown on their situation.
Morning sunshine! Mind putting those claws away? If you land a hit on me you will actually kill me. Forever. And likewise. Healing factor is kaput.
On the horizon, something stood out from the endless ice and evergreens. It had a geometric structure. It looked manmade.
Wade couldn’t tell if he was hallucinating or if he was actually seeing what seemed to be a building, in the middle of nowhere.
To his knowledge, the snow stretched on for miles and miles in every direction. He couldn’t imagine why someone would ever want to live out here.
He picked up the pace, both because he wanted to confirm whether or not his mind was playing tricks on him, and because carrying Wolverine in the middle of a snowstorm had gotten old fast.
As they got closer, Wade was able to focus better on the details. It was a small cabin, two stories high, with a pile of wood sitting dry on the porch.
Wade started to think he’d actually died and gone to heaven, because this felt too good to be true.
The wooden steps creaked beneath his combat boots as he climbed up them to the porch. Wade tried the door handle, not expecting much. If someone had a remote cabin, they probably didn’t want people getting in.
To his surprise, it opened without a problem. Wade was suspicious as he stepped into the home, kicking the door shut behind him. This has to be a trap.
It was too easy. Too convenient. He shouldn’t be complaining, they got lucky. One doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Wade wondered if whoever had sent them here had intentionally done this with them in mind. He wracked his brain, trying to remember how they’d ended up here. The last thing he remembered was presenting Wolverine– no, Logan– to the TVA.
There was a guy; British, snarky, vaguely homosexual aura.
Francis? No, he was dead, and way younger. Magneto? Probably dead, and too old.
Mr.Darcy! Wade remembered suddenly, hurt and betrayed. That obviously wasn’t his name, but the two were basically visually identical. He’d be referring to him as ‘Darcy’ until further notice.
Wade dropped Logan on a nearby sofa, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He settled down on the couch next to him, crashing from the hour-long adrenaline rush. He took in the room around him, eyes landing on the fireplace.
As soon as he felt like getting up, he’d make that a priority.
Although they were protected from the elements, it was still freezing. Wade cast a glance at Logan, who was curled up in a ball at the other end of the couch. When did that happen?
Wade was relieved at least that the guy could move. He noticed a knit blanket slung over the back of the cushions, and pulled it down. He wrapped it around his shoulders, appreciating the immediate warmth it provided.
He looked over at Logan again, feeling a little guilty. Wade sighed, standing up and half-heartedly tossing the blanket over him.
He was being far too nice to a guy who tried to kill him in basically every universe he encountered him in… But Logan was his only shot at saving his own universe and all the people he loved. He figured if Logan woke up warm and cozy, he’d be a lot more receptive than if he was cold and uncomfortable.
And so, Wade built a fire, tending to it for a while and warming his hands. The fire illuminated the otherwise dark room, washing everything in orange light.
He’d ditched his gloves on the floor along with his mask, but kept the rest of his suit on, strapped with all his weapons.
He wanted to trust that this Logan would hear him out and not try to kill him right away, but he was a wildcard. Better safe than sorry.
Wade mentally prepared himself for the very real possibility that he may have to kill Logan if it came to it. He could always find another one.
The man on the couch whined, curling further in on himself under the blanket. It was a pathetic display. Wade almost felt bad for the guy.
Just his luck that he managed to get stuck with ‘Midlife Crisis Wolverine’.
What was it that Darcy had said before banishing them? That Wade had brought him the worst Wolverine? Something about letting down everyone he cared about and being a complete failure.
Sounded sadly familiar. Maybe they could talk about it over a bottle of Jack in a few chapters. Hopefully.
After some time spent staring into the crackling fireplace and thinking, Wade slipped his mostly dry mask and gloves back on.
Silly as it was, he felt safer this way, even if it was just a layer of kevlar between himself and the world.