Archive of Our Own

In the beginning, there was a factory in Vietnam, then a shipping container, then a toy store in America, a whole aisle packed shelf to shelf with identical Deadpool action figures. Wade’s box was placed at the front of his row, and he was snatched up by a kid his very first day in the store. He felt so lucky. His kid's name was Jack, and he was a bit of a brat, pinching his sister in the backseat of their car, secretly pocketing candy bars while he waited for his parents to buy the movie tickets, shoving his sister out of the way and stealing her seat in the theater. But Wade loved him anyway, his obnoxious snorting laugh and his thick round glasses that made his eyes look huge and the way he was so obviously good deep down. Wade knew it was his job to nurture that goodness, to love his kid forever and prevent him from growing into a total psychopath.

But then the movie ended — the best movie to ever be put to film, by the way, an absolute masterpiece — and their time got cut short. Jack hopped up and, leaving Wade tucked in a corner of the leather seat, walked off out of the theater with his family. Wade kept waiting for Jack to realize, to turn around, to come back, but he didn't. Wade was left alone through two more showings of the best movie ever. For the first showing he lay forgotten in the seat and despaired, knowing that Jack and his family were in their car and well on their way home by now, a home Wade hadn't even gotten a chance to see. He hadn't caught Jack's sister's name, or his favorite color, or what he wanted to be when he grew up. Jack was like his Negasonic Teenage Warhead, he thought painfully as the credits rolled, if she were a little boy and Wade failed her in the end.

And then the third showing began. The lights dimmed again, the same previews started back up, people began streaming to their seats. Wade lay motionless, in stiff silent misery.

Until another little boy slunk down the aisle, glancing constantly around him. He had wide dark eyes and ruffled black hair and soft round cheeks. He was nervously wringing his pudgy hands together. He was the chubbiest, cutest kid in the whole world, and he sat right on top of Wade, bending one of the plastic katanas strapped to Wade's back. The boy yelped and reached into the seat and pulled Wade up into his lap. One look at this kid, his brightening eyes and growing smile, his beaming goodness, and Wade knew. This was his kid. His everything.

"Hi," the boy whispered, and hugged Wade close to his chest. His voice was the sweetest Wade had ever heard, with the most awesome accent. "My name's Russell."

Russell, Wade thought, and learned that though his own chest was made of solid plastic, he had a heart. It skipped and swelled and warmed and loved Russell immediately.

"Are you excited for the movie? I bet you know what happens, though, 'cause it's yours," Russell babbled adorably. He was five years old. "I'm excited. I'm —" Russell flinched and shrank into the seat as a family walked past him on their way to their own seats. "I'm not supposed to be here," Russell whispered guiltily with his mouth pressed to Wade's head, with Wade held out in front of him like a shield. "I snuck in to watch the movie. Don't tell anyone."

Never, Wade couldn't swear.

"I'm excited and scared," Russell admitted. He was trembling. "What if it's a bad scary movie like Headmaster said? What if I get caught and — and he puts me in the Chair again?"

I'm here, Wade couldn't say. From now until forever, kid, I'll be here. I don't know who this 'Headmaster' guy is, but he's nothing. You're everything.

"But I gotta watch it," Russell whispered with awe as the previews ended and Juice Newton started to sing, about mornings and love. "'Cause it's yours. We're best friends now, and best friends gotta watch each other's movies. Right, Deadpool?"

Right. And Wade learned just how happy he could be when he was cuddled in Russell's lap despite his hard plastic edges, squeezed and needed.

That movie was in no way appropriate for a five-year-old, but Russell loved it. He was grinning and laughing at all of Wade's jokes, even the ones he didn't understand. He was gasping and cringing at every splash of blood, clinging to Wade for comfort. He was sniffling and rubbing consolingly at Wade's back during the torture scene, then again when Vanessa was kidnapped. He was breathless and smiling when the credits rolled.

"You did it, Wade. You did everything," Russell marveled. "You're a hero." And Wade preened.

Wade was a little nervous about being forgotten again when Russell started to get up, but he held Wade tightly all the way home. He smiled and skipped and babbled sweetly to Wade about how cool and epic and awesome the movie was, and Wade wanted more than anything to break all the rules and answer. But Russell turned shy and quiet and trembled again as they neared a large white house with a red roof, rows of neat shrubbery and a tall metal fence. Essex House for Mutant Rehabilitation, the sign read.

What?

In the sunlight, Wade noticed Russell's scars for the first time. They were similar to Wade's own textured burn scars, only they didn't cover all of Russell's skin, just two small round spots on either side of his neck. They looked red and sore, as if they'd been aggravated recently.

Did someone do that to you? Wade couldn't ask, aching inside. How could anyone hurt an angel like you?

"Come on," Russell whispered urgently. Instead of going up the steps and through the door, he ran through the gate and across the yard to the back of the house. Wade was confused and worried, and realized for the first time how odd it was that Russell, despite being so small, was the only kid at the theater unaccompanied by a grown-up. "Be really, really quiet," Russell cautioned, as he tucked Wade securely under his arm and, with whimpers and grunts of effort that broke Wade's heart, climbed in through an ajar window. "Or else he'll hear us."

You mean the Headmaster? Wade couldn't ask. Is he your Dad?

Wade found out exactly who the Headmaster was when Russell, turning from the window, was immediately confronted by a dark shadow of a man with narrowed eyes and a deep scowl. Russell flinched violently and hid Wade behind his back as the monster grabbed him by the shoulder — Wade grit his plastic teeth behind his plastic mask and learned what it is to be furious, then helpless — and yanked Russell down a long hallway despite his yelp of pain — Wade wanted to draw his crooked plastic katana and use it to stab out the monster's eyes — and threw Russell into a room, so roughly that he hit the floor. Wade seethed as Russell crawled backward away from the monster in the doorway, still hiding Wade behind his back. The poor baby was so clearly terrified, whimpering and trembling. Wade knew he'd been hurt before by this monster, many times before.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" Russell choked out through horrible gasping sobs. Wade's plastic heart cracked and shattered.

"Not yet, child," the monster snarled, and turned away with his lip curled in disgust. "But you will be, come tomorrow's lesson."

What the heck is that supposed to mean? Wade couldn't demand.

Then the monster was gone, and Russell was curled in a tight ball on the concrete floor of a small, empty, windowless, pitch-black room, crying hard and hugging Wade with all his little strength.

I'm here. Wade knew he wasn't the real Deadpool, or a real hero at all, he couldn't kill the monster or whisk Russell away into a happy ending — but he could be here. He could listen. He could be held and cried to. He could be a good toy. He hoped that would be enough.

"Don't tell anyone," Russell whispered in the eerie darkness. Then he lifted his fist, the hand that didn't hold Wade, and his knuckles caught fire, glowing bright without burning him. Wade watched in awe.

One of the first changes Russell makes to Wade, after the complete and utter conquering of his plastic heart, is to remove his mask and promptly lose it. Russell likes Wade's scars, looking at them and rubbing his little fingertips over the textured plastic. It comforts him that they look so much like his own scars. Wade doesn't mind one bit. He wouldn't mind even if Russell lost his katanas and utility belt and his head — as long as it makes Russell happy.

All Wade wants is to make Russell happy.

Russell turned seven last week. Like last year, the only party he got was the one he and Wade threw under his bedsheets, a game played by the glow of a flashlight, a story of stolen cake and dancing candles and a journey across Candyland that ends happily, like all of their games. And like all of their games, Russell and Wade were the only players. Wade likes that, when they play, they become the only people in the whole world, a perfect, private world. He likes that, when Russell smiles at him with all those adorable baby teeth, with the gap where he lost one three nights ago, Wade really is a person, plastic and all.

Because that's how Russell sees him.

Today Russell wakes up yawning and hugging Wade under his thin white blanket, like always, in his small bed at the end of a row of ten small white beds, all occupied by other kids. The kids don't talk to each other or to Russell, they mostly just shiver and look haunted and scratch at the round burn scars on their necks, so Wade isn't shared. He loves all of them, because he could never not love a hurt kid, though Russell is his hurt kid. If Wade were the real thing, flesh and bone and serrated steel, he would save them all and the credits would roll over their happy ending — but he's a toy. He's doing all a toy can do.

Last week Russell talked back to the monster and was strapped into the Chair. Wade wasn't there, had to hear about it from Russell when he came to curl up in his bed and squeeze Wade and cry, with new red burn marks on his neck beside all the old scars. And Wade did for him all that a toy can do: lie still and be held and listen. It wasn't enough. It's never been enough.

"Today's the day, Wade," Russell whispers against Wade's plastic ear. Wade is a secret, like the rare times that Russell uses his powers. When the other kids are caught with smuggled-in toys, Headmaster Monster steals and destroys them. "We're gonna go to the park again, as soon as I get dismissed from breakfast. You just wait here, okay? I'll be right back."

I love you, Wade can't say.

"Love you," Russell whispers, then tucks Wade carefully under his pillow and hurries into an orderly line at the door with the other kids. Presently the monster arrives to scowl at them and lead them away to the cafeteria.

Wade watches, his head poked out from under Russell's pillow, and wishes, for the hundredth millionth time, that the plastic gun in his plastic holster shot real bullets. He'd put one right between the monster's ugly eyes.

He waits, and as promised, Russell comes running back into the bedroom an hour later. He grabs Wade out from under the pillow, hugs Wade close and bounces in place a little the way he does when he's excited. Wade is excited, too; he loves playing at the park, because Russell loves playing at the park. Russell's always too shy to approach any other kids there, or try any equipment other than the swings, his favorite, but that's okay. He has Wade. He'll always have Wade.

All they really need is each other.

"Okay, come on!" Russell whisks Wade out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and to the broom-closet window they've been sneaking out of recently. They have to choose a new downstairs window every time the monster catches them, but Russell's gotten very good at being sneaky. Wade is so proud of him, for this and for everything. "We had oatmeal for breakfast again," Russell complains once they've snuck out of the backyard and onto the safety of the sidewalk. "It was gray and mushy and tasted even more like mud than usual. I wish I could eat waffles like normal people. Like them." He points up at their favorite billboard as they walk beneath it; on it, a smiling family sits around a dinner table eating syrup-covered waffles, under the bold name of a restaurant Wade and Russell have never been to. "That'd be good."

I'm sorry I can only make you pretend waffles, Wade can't say. He's sorry he can only make Russell a lot of pretend things.

But then they reach the park, with its swingset and slides and monkey bars and lots of grass and mulch to run on, and the time for feeling sorry is over for now. Now it's time to play.

"Hey, look, we're almost the only ones here today!" Russell cheers. There's only one other kid at the park, a brown-haired little boy about Russell's age; he's climbing up and down and up and down the slide while his parents watch from the bench. Wade rejoices; this means Russell will only be a little shy today. "That kid looks kinda cool," Russell says, making a beeline for the swings as always, on the opposite side of the park as the slide. "He has a Wolverine toy."

So he does. Russell and Wade pause to peer curiously at the other boy, as he barrels down the slide again roaring and giggling and waving his Wolverine action figure. He might be the same brand as Wade, they have similar general proportions. Also, the boy is wearing an awesome green T-shirt with a dinosaur on it, orange pants and red boots. Russell’s eyes are drawn to the dinosaur. He's always fascinated by other kids’ clothes; at the Essex House, he and the other kids are only allowed to wear plain white shirts, pants and sneakers. It's silly and selfish, but Wade's always wished he could see Russell in a Deadpool T-shirt.

Maybe you can try playing with that kid, Wade can't suggest. Not right now, but later today? I know we're best friends and we're all we need, but I bet you'd have fun.

"Um," Russell begins, taking a tentative step toward the slide, only to startle and flee straight to his usual swing when the brown-haired boy glances back at him. And that's the end of that. Wade sighs fondly. "Let's pretend we're in a rocketship!" Russell declares, giggling as he tucks Wade into his shirt for safekeeping, Wade's head poking out Russell's shirt collar. He's always so careful not to let Wade fall or get dirty. "We gotta wear our special harnesses, or else we'll fall out into space."

Wade imagines it, clear and beautiful: him and his boy boarding a giant high-tech ship like the one in the last movie they snuck out to see, leaving behind Earth and all its monsters forever in search of something greater, something more deserving of a kid as wonderful as Russell. Then they'd fight aliens, of course, and cause epic explosions, and sample the waffles on every world they come across, and never leave each other's side.

"'Cause you know every planet has waffles," Russell says as they swing, grinning and kicking his legs back and forth to make them go higher. Russell is great at swinging, and at everything. "And pancakes, and maple syrup, and donuts, and muffins, and ice cream, and tarts..."

Another of their favorite sneak-out places is a nearby bakery, where Russell snatches discarded but still perfectly delicious snacks from the garbage while Wade watches tucked under Russell's arm. Wade knows that garbage-eating generally isn't something he should encourage, but Russell's never gotten sick from it, and he deserves all the sweet things he can get.

Eventually Russell just murmurs, "Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh," as they swing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. He gets a little lost in it sometimes, his eyes distant, his mouth curled into a small smile. Swinging makes him feel weightless, Wade knows, and free from all the horrible unfair things in their real world.

He told Wade, their second night together, their second flashlight-lit talk under the bedsheet, "My mum and dad're are gone forever, that's why I'm here. They left me when I was a baby, 'cause I'm a mutant freak. Headmaster told me."

He's wrong, Wade couldn't say. You're perfect. Maybe other people can't see that, because they're idiots, but I do. I see you.

Wade's mind drifts backwards as they swing, also feeling weightless if not entirely free. If only he were ten times bigger with flesh instead of plastic, if only he were real, he could be Russell's dad. Russell likes to play games about that sometimes, where the real Deadpool comes to the orphanage, adopts him, and takes him away. Wade wants nothing more.

Would it really be so bad, he wonders, to break the rules? It's deep-set instinct for a toy to go silent and limp in the presence of humans, even if it's just their kid, but Russell is different, Wade knows it. Russell wouldn't run away screaming. Nothing would be ruined. He's special, he would understand, and maybe it would help —

"Oh no," Russell whispers, abruptly dragging his heels into the mulch to stop their swing. Wade follows his wide eyes just in time to see the brown-haired little boy hit the ground. He fell from the top of the slide, and he's immediately howling, gasping and crying in the dirt. "He got hurt," Russell says with concern.

"Oh, Nate!" Right away his parents are off the bench and at his side, his sunglasses-wearing father grabbing him up off the ground and rocking him consolingly, his red-haired mother rubbing his back, both of their expressions scrunched up as if they share his pain. "We've got you, pal, we're here," his father soothes, while his mother checks over every inch of him, saying, "You're okay, my love, only a scraped knee. We'll go straight home and take care of it. Poor angel..."

Russell whimpers quietly, watching, and Wade knows they're thinking the same aching thing:

That kid doesn't know how good he has it.

They watch the boy's parents whisk him away to a minivan parked on the curb, gently lay him across the backseat, and drive off.

"Come on!" Russell bursts, springing up from the swing, not shy at all now that they really are the only ones at the park. "Let's go investigate! We're heroes and we gotta find out who pushed him."

Good idea! Wade can't cheer. Deadpool and Firefist are on the case! That's Russell's super-name when they play superheroes.

Russell carries Wade over to the slide, slow and decisive as Sherlock Holmes, and they examine the mulch directly under the slide, the scene of the crime. They find the small crater the boy made when he hit the ground.

Then they find the Wolverine toy. He's lying facedown in the dirt, half-buried, forgotten.

"Oh no!" Russell swoops down and scoops Wolverine out of the mulch without a moment's hesitation. "Rescue mission!" Russell tucks Wade under his arm, devotes both hands to carefully brushing the dirt off Wolverine's ridiculous pee-yellow costume. "Don't worry, Mr. Wolvie, we'll save you! I'm Russell and this is Wade, we're your new best friends."

Oh no, Wade can't groan.

"You're awesome!" Russell looks the Wolverine over excitedly, turning him this way and that, bending his knees and elbows. He and Wade do have the same general proportions, except Wolverine has more joints; Wade's elbows and knees bend, too, but Wolverine's wrists, ankles, and even all of his individual fingers bend. The only thing he's missing is a mask, Wade thinks — and then Russell discovers with a giggle that Wolverine has a fabric hood attached to his costume that can be folded up into his iconic mask. Wade can't help but prickle with envy under his plastic as Russell plays with another toy. "Oh, hey, and your belt has a button!" Russell presses down on the X of Wolverine's X-Men belt, then gasps with awe as gray plastic claws come flying out of his fists. Snikt!

Wade gasps, too, inwardly. That's an admittedly, distressingly cool feature. Uh-oh.

"Wade, we have a new friend!" Russell bounces excitedly on his heels, staring at Wolverine like he's suddenly the new center of the world. Wade seethes. "Let's show him our rocketship! I bet he knows all about space."

Let's not, Wade can't say. Russell's already running back to the swingset with Wade and Wolverine in hand.

They play for a while, and it's not not fun, but Wade isn't used to having another toy in the equation — and he definitely isn't used to another toy being the center of Russell's attention. Russell babbles about how Wolverine can use his awesome claws to fight off aliens, how he's big and strong enough to leave the ship without a helmet, and for some baffling reason Russell decides that Wolverine is the best waffles chef in the universe.

Russell finds a second button on Wolverine's back, pushes it curiously, and squeals with delight when a gruff, only slightly staticky voice growls out, "I'm the best there is at what I do, but what I do best isn't very nice!"

"Woah!" Russell giggles. "You have a voice box!"

He has a voice box, Wade thinks with mounting misery. Also, what the heck kind of nonsense catchphrase is that?

It's soon time to go home. Russell hurries back with Wade and Wolverine clutched to his chest, sneaks skillfully across the yard, through the window and up the stairs to the bedroom. The other kids are probably in the auditorium sitting through one of the monster's awful lectures, because they have the room to themselves. Usually Wade would be thrilled at the prospect of more play before dinnertime, but not today. Today, if he had sweat glands, he'd be sweating.

"This is your new home, Wolvie! It isn't very nice," Russell mimics Wolverine's low growly voice, much to Wade's distress. "But that's okay, 'cause me and Wade are the bestest friends ever. We're your new family." Russell gasps the way he does when he's been stuck with a genius idea. "Hey, let's play house! I wanna be the baby and you and Wade can be the daddies. I heard that some kids have two daddies. Even though Headmaster says it's bad, 'cause —"

Ding ding ding ding! cries the dinner bell.

Saved by the bell, Wade thinks with relief.

"Uh-oh!" Russell groans in disappointment, but quickly tucks Wade and Wolverine under his pillow — Wade's place. "I gotta go eat my yucky dinner, but I'll be back soon! Wade, show Wolvie around, and make sure to be extra, extra nice to him, 'cause he's new and being new is scary."

Russell runs off, letting the bedroom door slam shut behind him, and Wade comes to life. Time to put Dumb-verine in his place.

Before he can open his mouth, though, Wolverine is springing up, shoving the pillow off of them, and scowling at Wade with his unfairly perfect features. There's almost too much detail in his chiseled plastic face.

"C'mon, bub, help me get that door open," he growls, and hops down off of Russell's bed.

"What? Hey!" Wade jumps down after him. "Where do you think you're going? Don't worry, Russ isn't leaving us, he'll come back — and I have to give you the shovel talk!"

"Don't bother." Wolverine marches in a straight line toward the door. "I'm goin' home."

Wade grimaces. "Uh, Wolverine —"

"Logan's fine."

"Logan, okay. Logan," Wade says, "this is your new home. Your old kid forgot your butt in the dirt, and the sacred rule of Finders Keepers clearly states that you're Russell's toy now."

Logan just scoffs and doesn't slow his stride.

Wade gasps, offended. "What, you got a problem with that? You don't wanna belong to my kid? I'll have you know, Wolvie, that Russ is the best kid in the world and you should be jumping for joy right now!"

"Seriously?" Logan turns and raises a painted eyebrow at Wade. "I thought you'd be beggin’ me to leave. 'Cause if I don't, y'know, I'll be the kid's new favorite."

"Don't be so sure." Wade flinches a little at the thought. "And yeah, I do want you to leave — but Russell doesn't. That's what matters. He'd cry for sure if he lost you, and I won't let you make him cry."

"That's admirable," Logan concedes, "but no can do. I've got my own cryin' kid to think about."

Wade doesn't understand. "Dude, your kid literally abandoned you. Russell has never once dropped me on the ground, much less in the dirt, much less left me to find my own way home. You're way better off with us."

Logan shakes his head. "It was an accident. As soon as Nate realizes — should be right about now — he'll cry for Mom and Dad to take him back to the park to search for me. If I'm not there it'll be a meltdown, so I gotta get back to the park, now. Help me open this door."

"I said no," Wade hisses. "You can thank me later, when you realize how awesome Russell is."

Logan sighs. "Look, bub, your Russell seems like a great kid, he's got a neat accent — but he's not my kid. Now stop actin' selfless and let me get outta your hair.”

Wade hesitates. Would it really be so bad if Russell lost Logan? He'd be upset for a day, sure, but he'd get over it and Wade would never have to share him with another toy again. Besides, Logan clearly doesn't deserve Russell if he's this determined to leave.

"Fine," Wade says. "But it's easier said than done. This place is a fortress, you can't get out on your own. You'll have to wait until the next time Russell sneaks out, then you can just find an opportunity to slip away."

Logan frowns. "Why is your kid sneakin' out? And why was he at the park by himself, anyway? He's Nate's age."

"He wasn't by himself," Wade protests defensively. "I was with him. I'm always with him."

"Uh-huh." Logan crosses his arms. "So what're you gonna do if he gets yanked into the back of a van or somethin'? Toys are great and all, but kids need grown-ups to be safe."

"I — well —" Wade splutters. That hit a sore spot. "Don't tell me how to look after my kid!” he snaps. “Why do you let your Nate fall off slides, huh?"

Logan flinches and snarls, "That was the first time he ever did that!"

"You know who's never fallen off a slide? Russell," Wade says proudly. "In fact, my Russell's never fallen off of anything."

"Congratulations," Logan says flatly. "Now, the door."

"Hey, I told you, it's not that easy!" Wade argues. "All the exits are locked, except some of the windows that the monster forgets about, but they're too high up for us to reach on our own.”

"Huh?" Logan balks at this. "What monster? And why is everythin' locked? And —" He gestures around at the rows of white neatly made beds. "Why does your kid have so many siblings? Just what kind of house is this?"

"They're not his siblings." Wade sighs, reluctant to get into all this. "This is an orphanage."

"Oh." Logan's expression softens in an instant. "That's awful."

"More than you realize," Wade mutters.

"What do you mean?" Logan asks, wary.

"Well, it's an orphanage, but it's also kind of like a prison?" This is how Wade sees it, anyway, though Headmaster Monster calls it a safe haven. "A prison for kids who are...special."

The level of detail in Logan's baffled expression is impressive. "Special how? Like, juvenile delinquents?"

"No. Don't ever say that, those kids have never done a single thing wrong in their lives, especially not Russell," Wade snaps. Logan raises his hands in surrender, so Wade takes a deep pretend-breath and explains, "They have powers, that's what makes them special. They're mutants."

"Oh." Logan lowers his hands. He seems to understand. "So are Nate and his parents."

Now it's Wade's turn to be surprised. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." Logan obviously doesn't think of this as remarkable in any way. "Doesn't explain why these poor kids are locked up like this. And…” Logan's frown deepens. “I noticed those scars on your boy's neck.”

"It's the monster," Wade says with a pain in his plastic chest. "He's the worst grown-up in the world. He thinks mutants are —"

Wade is interrupted by the sound of an orderly row of kids slowly climbing the stairs, the monster no doubt following close behind to ensure they don't move too quick or too loud. Dinner ended early tonight.

"Oh no," Wade says. "C'mon, hurry, back to the bed!"

Logan hesitates, but follows Wade when he turns and runs. They don't have enough time to clamber back up onto the mattress and under the pillow, so they dive into the shadows under the bed instead.

The door swings open, and in march all the poor haunted-looking kids in a row. Russell is the last one in; Wade rejoices at the sight of him, though his sweet face is frowning.

"Go to your beds, children," the monster instructs as he follows them into the room, his eyes dark and disgusted, his voice low and loathing. "We shall have our weekly bedtime story tonight."

"What the heck?" Logan whispers. “Who is that creep?”

"Shh." Wade watches Russell's feet as he hops up onto his bed. He's probably laying his hand over his pillow for comfort right now, thinking Wade is there. "It'll be over soon."

"Tonight, my children, I shall tell you a story you've heard many times before that bears repeating." Headmaster Monster takes a seat on the end of Susie's bed; she flinches and shrinks back against her pillows. "It began long ago, before movies and cellphones and complacency." He hisses these words with revulsion, turning his head like a vulture to meet every cowering kid's eyes in turn. "It's called: The First Mutants."

"What a clown," Logan mutters. Wade just sighs miserably; the monster's stories are the worst, and they never fail to disturb Russell.

"It started, you see, as all evil does. With Satan," the monster snarls. "The Adversary sought to sow destruction in the world of God, and so he sent demons up out of Hell to possess humans who they sensed were vulnerable to temptation. These people, possessed by demons, became the world's first mutants. The Devil's influence not only gave them demonic powers, but also made them largely incapable of resisting any sin. As evil would have it, my children, the Antichrist is not just one monstrous being — no, the Antichrist is many. It is mutants. They are Satan's agents on Earth. Monsters. Freaks. Abominations."

The monster speaks with violent vigor, practically spitting his words, while the kids listen in silent terror. And shame, that's the worst part, that the monster actually makes them feel guilty for who they are, how they were born. Wade simmers, wishes yet again that he could come out from under the bed, grow six feet and throw the monster out a window.

Wade glances over at Logan. His mouth is agape, his eyes wide and horrified. Snikt! His plastic claws pop out.

It's been a while — since the last time the monster dragged a new kid into the house — since Wade watched someone react to this outrageous terror for the first time. It's easy to get used to it, when they're so isolated in their awful little routine.

"God turned his back on these filthy demon-spawns," the monster continues. "So they spent all their miserable lives furthering Satan's mission on Earth, spreading despair and destruction everywhere they went, the plague of Hell. Their souls were forfeit. They would never know the joy of Heaven. They were killers. Rapists. Thieves. Every one. And, it saddens me to say, they still are."

"That's bullcrap," Logan mutters. "Their powers are a gift, they —"

"Shh!" Wade shoves his shoulder. "I know. Shut up."

"So," the monster finishes pointedly, "it's a very good thing that none of you are mutant freaks. Anymore. Isn't that right, children?"

"Yes, Headmaster," every kid answers in flat unison.

"Excellent." He stands and turns toward the door. "Sleep well, and think on my story. It's true."

With that, he slams the door shut behind him.

Good riddance, Wade thinks, and then —

"Oh no!" Russell whispers. He's definitely just turned over his pillow and found them missing, the poor baby, Wade can hear him frantically checking under the bedsheets for Wade. And Wolverine.

Quickly, Wade throws out his hand and presses the button on Logan's back. Logan doesn't try to twist away, just keeps looking horrified.

"If you cage the beast, the beast will get angry!"

Russell gasps and reaches under the bed, Wade and Logan going stiff just in time to be scooped up by his desperate hands.

"There you guys are! How'd you get under there, did you fall down?" He burrows under his bedsheet with them, so they're in their own dark, private, safe world. "Sorry. Did it hurt?"

Russell seems genuinely concerned for them, and it breaks Wade's plastic heart. He's such a good kid.

He deserves so much better.

Logan seems to take Wade's advice about not trying to leave on his own to heart, so a week passes. A week with Russell having another toy; a cooler, fully posable toy with retractable claws and a voice box. Wade isn't neglected or excluded and never goes a day without play, but by the end of the week he's beyond ready for Logan to finally take his leave and let Wade reclaim all of Russell's attention.

Every morning Russell whispers to Wade and Logan under his bedsheet, about his dreams and nightmares and random things he thought while falling asleep; things he used to only entrust to Wade. Then he tucks Wade and Logan both under his pillow and runs off to breakfast, leaving them to wait in tense silence for his return. Logan isn't at all talkative anymore; he just frowns grimly, as if in deep sullen thought, and gives noncommittal grunts in response to Wade's assurances that Russell will be wanting to sneak out again any day now. As much as Wade dislikes Logan's objectively awesome features and the way Russell has been favoring him during games, Wade still hopes Logan isn't too depressed with missing his kid. Wade doesn't know what it's like to lose a kid, not really. Now that he loves Russell, now that he truly knows what it is to love and be loved by a kid, he knows that Jack didn't really count. Jack never even played with him.

Russell likes to play games where the three of them go on adventures through alien worlds or fantasy realms or sometimes Hell; just him, Wade and Logan together against everything. He never makes Wade and Logan fight, which Wade is a little disappointed by; he wants to know who Russell thinks would win. Personally, Wade would bet on himself. His katanas are twice as long as Logan's claws. But Russell makes them friends. And husbands, occasionally, when he's in the mood to play house. This game, along with most of their games, mostly just takes place under his bedsheet. House always breaks Wade up a little, the way Russell closes his eyes during it and clearly tries so hard to imagine a new world in as much detail as possible, a world where he has loving parents.

Tonight, like every night, he settles into bed cuddling Wade and Logan together against his chest.

"Goodnight," Russell yawns out, sweet and exhausted. "We're all gonna have good dreams, and then tomorrow we're gonna have lots more fun. Right, Wolvie?" He presses the X-button on Logan's belt.

"Right on, bub! I love you."

Russell gasps delightedly, and Wade is so busy seething about this that it takes a second for him to realize that Logan just broke the rules and spoke to Russell. Logan used his staticky voice-box voice and didn't move at all, but still. That line is definitely not in his programming, Wade should know, he's had to listen to Russell happily press that X-button and cycle through all of Wolverine's stupid catchphrases dozens of times this week.

"That's a new one!" Russell squeezes Logan tighter. "I love you too, forever and ever and ever, and so does Wade. We all love each other, 'cause we're a family."

I love you more, Wade can't say, agonizingly.

When Russell falls asleep, Wade jabs Logan in the side.

"Hey." At least being pressed flush together in Russell's arms makes whispering angrily in Logan's ear easy. "What the absolute heck was that?"

"The kid needed to hear it," Logan whispers back, sounding pensive. "It's not a big deal, don't get your wires in a knot."

"I don't have wires," Wade retorts, "and you don't have the right to tell Russell you love him. First of all, you've only known him for a week, and second of all, you've been plotting to leave him this whole time. That's not love."

Logan just sighs, in a slightly sheepish way that makes Wade want to scream in devastation.

"Oh," he chokes out. He knew it, he knew this would happen. "You changed your mind about leaving."

"No. I still gotta get home to Nate, but..." Logan sighs again. "I've been thinkin'. Maybe I could bring Russell with me."

Wade balks. "All that talk about him getting yanked into vans, and now you're the one who wants to kidnap him! Nuh-uh, not on my —"

"Shh!" Logan scoffs. "You'd come, too, obviously. Russell would tell Nate's parents about this nightmare of a place, and they'd save the rest of the kids and see to it that they got good homes. Then, who knows." Logan shrugs his smooth-jointed shoulders. "Maybe Russell's home could be with Nate. I'm sure they'd get along like peas in a pod, they're a lot alike."

"I — but..." Wade doesn't even know how to respond to this. He squints at Logan. "I don't get it, why would your kid's parents be able to save everyone?"

"'Cause that's what they do," Logan explains. "They were X-Men before they retired."

X-Men. Wade's plastic jaw drops. Headmaster Monster talks about the X-Men sometimes, how they're the worst of the mutants and they're all going to Hell — but Wade and Russell know the truth, from comic books dug out of dumpsters and news footage watched in secret. The X-Men are heroes, real heroes.

"They'll make sure that monster never hurts any kid ever again." Logan sounds certain of this. "We just gotta get Russell to them."

"But how?" Wade asks, hope and hopelessness warring in his plastic gut. "I mean, we can't..."

"My voice box," Logan says simply, decisively. "We won't come alive, that'd freak the kid out too bad, but I'll use my voice-box voice to guide him to Nate's house. It's not far, he lives right around the park. I'll frame it as a mission."

Wade stares at Logan in the darkness under the bedsheet, astounded. "You'd break the rules, just like that?" Wade's voice gets thick. "For Russell?"

"It's just bendin’ the rules. But of course I would. I will." Logan's flexible hand clasps Wade's stiff shoulder. "Somethin's very wrong here, bub, these kids need help. More help than just playin'."

His gruff voice is gentle, not condemning.

Wade sniffles anyway. "We've been here so long, and I never — I mean, the cops came here once and looked around, but they didn't care. They were on the monster's side. So I thought there was no way out, nothing to do but wait and — and be here for him in my useless little way..."

"Hey." Logan squeezes Wade's shoulder. His detailed eyes are soft and kind when Wade meets them; it's obvious even in the dark. "That's okay. You didn't know there were X-Men livin' right down the block, just like the X-Men didn't know about this place."

"But now I know." Wade nods. "And pretty soon they're gonna know and — and they'll really help?"

"Of course." Logan grins viciously. "Heck, I'd be shocked if they didn't burn this 'house' to the ground."

The next day, Russell sneaks out the broom-closet window with Wade and Logan tucked into his jacket, saying he wants to play at the park again. Their plan is a go.

Until the monster's hand clamps down around Russell's arm.

"Sneaking out again, Russell? I see your lessons have taught you nothing," Headmaster Monster spits, while Russell whimpers and squirms and Wade struggles to stay still and silent. But he can't quite suppress his flinch when Logan, as the monster yanks Russell away from the window, slips out from under Russell's shirt and clatters to the floor. "Oh, and what's this?" The monster sneers. "Contraband."

"No, don't!" Russell cries, but the monster is already reaching down and grabbing Logan, holding him up and out of Russell's reach. Poor Russell tries to jump up and take Logan back, but he's too small. He's too small for all of this. "Don't take him, please, I'm sorry!"

"I doubt that." The monster drags Russell out of the broom-closet by the arm, so rough and fast that Russell nearly trips. Wade just barely manages to stay silent. "I've told you children again and again that toys are Satan's tools of temptation and corruption — especially X-Men toys!" He pulls Russell down the hallway, toward the empty windowless room where he locks the kids who disobey. This punishment could last anywhere from a day to a week. "Is that what you want, Russell, to be a monster like them?"

"You're a monster!" Russell snaps, in a rare moment of defiance that fills Wade with anxious pride. But then the monster is throwing Russell roughly into the room, slamming the door shut and turning the lock with a resounding snap. "No!" Russell screams.

"Remember, child," the monster snarls through the door, "blessed are the wicked who are healed by my hand. You will remain there until you can admit what you did was sinful. Then I will put you in the Chair and heal you, again." Russell shudders; Wade suppresses a shout of outrage. "Who knows?" The monster laughs his dry, scoffing laugh. "Perhaps this time the lesson will take."

His footsteps fade, as Russell crumples to the hard concrete floor in tears. Wade's in shock from how completely everything just went wrong, how thoroughly their world just collapsed. The monster has Logan, their ticket to getting the X-Men's help, and he's going to hurt Russell — and there's nothing Wade can do about it.

At least the monster forgot to turn off the lights this time.

"Wade!" Russell pulls Wade out of his jacket and hugs him tight. Russell's crying hard enough to warp his words, but Wade understands him. Wade always understands him. "What're we gonna do? The monster's gonna hurt Wolvie!"

That's what Russell's most worried about, not the room or the Chair but the safety of his friend. He really is too good for any of this.

And he's too good for Wade's uselessness.

"M'sorry," Russell mumbles through a sob. "I should've been more quiet... No, I shouldn't have tried to sneak out at all. I — m'bad, just like Headmaster says..."

And he's blaming himself.

Something changes in Wade. Something snaps.

"Please don't say that, Russ," he blurts where he's squeezed against Russell's chest. "You're not bad, you didn't do anything wrong. You just wanted to play, and you deserve to play, you deserve to have fun. You deserve to get away from that monster."

"But I —" Russell gasps and drops Wade. Wade realizes the crushing weight of his mistake as, for the first time ever, he hits the floor. "You're talking!"

Wade considers just shutting up and going stiff, but he won't have Russell thinking he's crazy. There's no going back now.

Trying to muster up some bravery, Wade stands and looks up at Russell, faces him even as he stares down at Wade in shock and something horribly like fear. He's curled up in a tight ball, his face soaked with tears, his eyes huge.

"That's right. I — I sure am, bud." Wade tries for a confident smile and fails miserably. Russell is terrified. Wade aches to comfort him. "I've always been able to talk, all toys can, but — but we're not supposed to. It's kind of against the rules. But you mean more to me than rules or the fate of all toy-kind or anything, you mean everything to me, and I won't let you think you're alone anymore."

Russell just stares at Wade, his breaths quick and shallow.

"Please don't freak out," Wade begs. "I'm not a demon or anything, I promise. I'm your friend. I've always been your friend." He smiles hopefully. "You remember that day at the movie theater two years ago, when you found me? That's when I knew we were made for each other. You're my kid."

Russell whimpers and scoots away a little, breaking Wade's plastic heart.

"Please —" Wade sobs, but stays still, doesn't make any movements toward Russell. "I wanna help you. Logan does, too. We had this plan, before we got caught — we're gonna take you to the X-Men! Or, a couple of retired X-Men, but X-Men all the same, I guess. We just have to get Logan back."

"Logan?" Russell squeaks. He's only read two Wolverine comics (it's rare to find those in dumpsters) and he mostly just gawked and grinned and giggled at the drawings.

"Sorry, that's Wolvie's name," Wade explains softly. "He talks, too. He loves you, too. Remember, he said so."

"I — I don't understand..." Russell cringes further away from Wade. Like Wade's the monster.

"I know, I'm sorry. But you're okay," Wade soothes. "Everything's going to be okay, I promise." He hopes he's not lying. "This is weird and scary, I get it, but I'm still your Wade." He sniffles and lowers his eyes. "I still love you. I've always loved you, Russell, and I always will."

He waits for Russell to scream or kick him across the room, but instead, before he can say another word, he's being scooped back up into Russell's arms and squeezed almost tightly enough to crush his unbent katana. The relief is as shocking as it is soothing.

"Wade!" Russell's still sobbing, but there's no more fear in his voice. "I knew it, I knew it! I knew you were real!"

"Russ!" For the first time, Wade is able to clutch Russell back, though his arms are too small to wrap around Russell. It's beautiful all the same.

"I'm sorry I dropped you!" Russell whines. "I didn't mean to. Did you get hurt?"

"No, no, I'm fine! It's okay, honey, I know I gave you a shock." Wade pats Russell's chest soothingly. "I'm sorry I didn't start talking to you sooner. I wanted to, but — I don't know. I was afraid."

"It's okay." Russell pulls back, holds Wade in front of him and stares wonderingly. Wade smiles adoringly up at him. "You said you didn't want me to think I'm alone anymore, but..." Russell's lower lip trembles as he manages a small smile of his own. It reaches his eyes. "I never thought I was alone with you."

"Good." Wade holds Russell's thumb in both of his hands. "And you'll never be alone. I'm not going anywhere, not ever."

Russell giggles and hugs Wade close again. "And the X-Men are coming!" Russell cheers.

"Well — hold on, not quite, we have to go to them," Wade corrects him gently. "And Logan's the only one who knows how to get there."

"Wolvie!" Russell gasps, distressed. "We have to save him, Wade, or else the monster will break him! Remember what happened when he found Susie's dolly?"

Wade nods, grimacing. The monster tore that poor doll apart in front of all the kids, then made poor Susie sweep up the stuffing while she cried. One of his twisted lessons.

"We gotta get out of here," Wade says. He lifts his face from Russell's shoulder, stands in Russell's palms and looks around for anything they can use, but this room is as barren and hopeless as always. The only things in here are them, and —

Wade perks up, struck with realization: they're enough.

Russell is, anyway.

"Your powers!" Wade grins up at him. "You can use them to melt the doorknob off!"

Russell flinches. "But — I can't. I'm not allowed to..."

"Forget the monster's rules, you don't have to follow them anymore." Wade reaches up and wipes away Russell's tears as best he can with his miniature hands. "You know what Logan told me, last week after the monster told that awful story? Logan said your powers are a gift, and I agree. That monster's nothing but a dirty liar. Your powers aren't a curse, or a sin, or anything else bad. You have a gift, Russ, that's the truth."

"A gift?" Russell whimpers. "But they don't feel like a gift."

"Only because of all those lies he put in your head." Wade pats Russell's cheek. "That's all they were, just lies. I should've told you that a million times before now."

Russell hesitates. "But..."

"You can do this, I know you can and so do you. You're a hero." Wade's only saying what he truly believes. Russell knows how to use his powers, fire comes to him naturally, that's never been the problem; the problem has always been the monster punishing him for it, drilling poison into his head. "Logan's in trouble, but that's okay, because Deadpool and Firefist are on the case. Aren't we?"

Some of the fear leaves Russell's eyes, and he nods fiercely. "Yeah. We're gonna save him."

"Heck yeah we are!" Wade cheers.

Russell stands, sets Wade carefully on his shoulder, and walks bravely to the door. He wraps one small hand around the doorknob; takes a deep, steadying breath.

"You can do this," Wade encourages. "Just focus on —"

With a grunt and a blaze of heat that engulfs his entire forearm, Russell blasts the door right off its hinges. It smacks violently against the opposite wall.

"Woah!" Russell shouts, dropping his hand as it cools, staring in awe at the blasted door. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah, I did!" Wade laughs, thrilled. "That was awesome, I'm so proud of you! And —" Wade winces. "And loud. C'mon, we gotta hurry!"

Russell runs to Headmaster Monster's office at the end of the hallway and throws open the thankfully unlocked door — the monster probably doesn't bother to lock it, thinking none of the kids would dare enter his villainous lair — while Wade hangs on to Russell's shirt collar.

"Wolvie!" Russell calls, looking around the painfully boring office, hurrying over to the monster's desk with all its neat stacks of paper.

"Logan!" Wade focuses on the floor, and gasps when he spots Logan's stiff form lying in front of a vent. One of the screws is loosened; Logan must've started out on the desk or in a drawer, then jumped down and was just trying to escape through the vent when they came in. "There he is, look!" Wade points.

Russell runs to Logan and picks him up carefully. "It's okay, Wolvie, you don't gotta be frozen anymore!" Russell shakes him gently. "Wade told me all about toys."

"Yeah, wake the heck up!" Wade calls from his seat on Russell's shoulder. "You need to lead us to Nate's house."

"I wanted to bend the rules," comes Logan's staticky voice-box voice, his face motionless. "Not completely obliterate them!"

"Sorry," Wade says, though he's not sorry at all. He smiles at Russell, who smiles right back at him. "I don't keep secrets from my kid."

"Fine." Logan sits up frowning in Russell's hands, then winces at Russell's squeal of delight. "Oh, boy. It's nice to talk to you and all, kid, but you gotta promise never to tell anyone about this. Ever."

Wade's a teeny tiny bit offended at the implication that his kid can't keep a secret, but... Yeah, Russell's only seven. Wade should have made him promise that, too.

"I promise." Russell stares down at Logan in awe.

"Good." Logan nods. "Now c'mon, let's get outta here."

It's simple enough — in a thrilling, plastic-stomach-in-plastic-throat kind of way — for Russell to repeat his fire blast trick on the back door. They sprint across the yard and onto the sidewalk with the monster's and his orderlies' frantic voices crying out behind them. No one chases them. It's as if the monster genuinely never expected any of the kids to go against his instructions to never use their powers, but joke's on him; soon all of those kids will be free forever from his tyranny.

"There's the park!" Russell pants out as they approach it. There are sirens shrieking from the direction of the orphanage, and Wade's pretend plastic heart is pounding. This is it. They're really getting away this time, for good. "Where do we go now?" Russell asks.

"That way." Logan points. He and Wade are perched on Russell's shoulders, Logan on one and Wade on the other. There are no other people around, but they're both crouched down low and careful just in case. "See that sign? That's the entrance to Nate's neighborhood."

The sign reads: Dayspring, in fancy swooping green letters.

"Okay." Russell starts walking toward it. He's stumbling a little with how exhausted he is, poor angel. "Hey, um, is Nate nice? And — and Nate's parents?" Russell asks shyly. "They seemed nice, at the park."

Wade pats his cheek gently, and tries not to feel too intimidated by this neighborhood, the towering rows of tall well-kept houses, all with front yards and garages.

"They're the nicest," Logan assures Russell. "You and Nate are gonna be best friends, I can already tell."

"Wow." Russell's mouth curls into a startled smile. "I've never had a real — a..." He glances at Wade, smile wilting, and Wade knows he was going to say something along the lines of a real friend. "M'sorry, Wade," he whines. "I didn't mean it."

"No, no, that's okay, honey," Wade soothes, though he's slightly crushed. "You're right, you've never had a friend who's not a toy. But we're gonna fix that, aren't we?"

Russell's smile returns, and that's all that matters. "Yeah."

"That's my house!" Logan points again, excitedly, practically jumping up and down on Russell's shoulder. He's pointing to a large house at the end of the street, with blue boards over pink bricks and a lovely little garden, flowers of every color and a cobblestone path leading to the red front door. "Nate's in there!" Logan sounds slightly tearful. Wade remembers how long it's been since Logan was with his kid, a whole week — that would feel like eternity, Wade knows, if he had to be away from Russell for that long. Wade's sorry for ever trying to forbid Logan from going home, though in the end, everything worked out. Or, it's in the process of working out. Fingers crossed.

Wade leans forward to smile at Logan where he's grinning and pointing and urging Russell up the cobblestone path toward the door. Wade feels a hurricane burst of affection for Logan. If Russell hadn't found and taken him home that day, they'd still be trapped in the monster's lair.

"W-what now?" Russell's nervous when he comes to stand on the smiley-face welcome mat, swaying on his feet and grabbing Wade off his shoulder to squeeze anxiously.

"Just ring the doorbell," Logan coaxes, but Wade knows it feels a lot more complicated than that to Russell, who's never done anything even remotely like this before.

"Hey, it's okay." Wade hugs Russell back, wishing his arms were big enough to engulf Russell completely and do all the hard things for him. "You see that little button next to the door? Just give that a push and they'll know we're here. You've got this, Russ, we're right here with you."

Russell just whimpers and clutches Wade, staring up at the door like it's a monster in its own right.

"Kid, I promise," Logan says gently, "these are good people, so much better than you're used to. They're gonna be nothin' but nice to you. They're gonna help you and all those kids back at the orphanage. All you gotta do is ring that doorbell."

Russell lifts his hand slowly, tentatively, but can't manage to press the button until Wade kisses his cheek. The bell rings. Logan freezes and tumbles down off Russell's shoulder, into Russell's waiting arms. He clutches Logan and Wade together against his chest.

A beat. Soft muffled voices and footsteps sound from inside the house. The door swings open to reveal the red-haired woman from the park, Nate's mother.

Wade follows Logan's lead and goes stiff.

"Oh, hello!" The woman's eyes are soft and kind on Russell, and they widen when they land on Logan. "Nate, come quick!" she calls behind her. "Someone found Logan!"

Russell holds Logan a little more tightly.

"Thank you so much," the woman says, smiling down at him. "My son has been looking everywhere for him. We're sure we left him at the park. Is that where you found him?"

"Mhm." Russell nods shyly. "I —"

"Logan!" Then the brown-haired little boy, Nate, is shoving past his mother's hip and beaming at Logan. "You found him, you really found him!" Nate reaches out and grabs Logan before Russell's ready to let him go, Wade can tell from Russell's flinch. Wade wishes he could offer more comfort than just being squeezed. "Logan, Logan!" Nate hugs Logan to his chest and spins in an excited little circle that almost knocks him off his feet; laughing fondly, his mother steadies him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Logan's expression is frozen in its default deadpan, but Wade sees the twinkle in his painted eyes, the very slight curve to his chiseled mouth. He's every bit as overjoyed as his kid.

"We can't thank you enough, darling," Nate's mother tells Russell, warmly. "But how did you know to bring him here? Did your parents see my Facebook post and send you over, or —?" She trails off, staring wide-eyed at Russell. Russell shrinks back a step. "Oh. Oh, you poor boy," she says, her voice choked. "I sense so much pain… And — and those scars…"

Russell looks down at his shoes. "I need help," he whispers. Wade's so painfully proud of him.

"Come in, please come in." Nate's mother beckons to Russell, and after a moment of hesitation he steps forward into their large foyer, with smooth hardwood and rows of colorful shoes along the blue wall. She doesn't shut the door behind Russell, which helps him to not feel trapped, Wade knows.

"I don't get it." Nate glances at Russell, then just stares up at his mother, still hugging Logan. "What's wrong, Mom?” Nate scrunches his nose. “Did he walk here all the way from Australia?”

"Go get Dad, sweetheart," she says softly, and kneels down in front of Russell while Nate runs off with Logan. Her blue eyes are soft and gentle and worried shining up at Russell, her hands outstretched but not touching him. "My name is Jean Summers," she tells him in a kind voice. "I've been living here with my husband Scott ever since Nate was born, but before that, we lived at the X-Mansion in New York. We were X-Men."

She pauses as if to let Russell process this, and seems surprised when he just nods and fidgets with Wade's arms, doesn't recoil.

"All I mean to say is that you can trust us. You can trust me," she continues. "Your name is Russell, right?"

This surprises Russell; he looks up at her with a gasp. Wade would be gasping, too, if he could. "How'd you know?" Russell asks, awed.

"I can sense it, it's part of my powers. Just like I can sense that you're a very special boy." She smiles at him, dazzling, though it wilts immediately. "And that you're in trouble. Can you tell me what's wrong, darling? If not, if it's okay, I can look into your mind and find out that way."

Because that's not weird and invasive at all. Wade prickles a little with protectiveness, as much as he believes Logan about this family being good, about them being heroes. Wade hears a man's voice in another room, responding to Nate's, and knows with conflicted hope and dread that they'll soon be joined by another retired X-Man. He feels Russell's flinch at the sound.

"U-umm..." Russell begins shakily. He pauses for a while, then looks down at Wade, takes a slow steadying breath, and explains.

In the end, when Jean opens her arms and promises that everything will be okay, that no one will ever hurt him or any of the other kids again, Russell crumbles against her and cries into her chest while she holds him. When Scott lays a hand on Russell's shoulder, with outrage in his grimace but tenderness in his touch, Russell doesn't flinch. Wade is pressed between Russell's and Jean's chests, and feels in his pretend heart that their happy ending begins now. If they were on the big screen, this is when music would play, credits would roll — except this is real, and they get to experience it all. Together.

"Go away, Deadpool!" Logan growls. "You're literally the worst!"

"But, Wolvie!" Wade protests. "I need you to help me save my whole universe!"

"Too bad, so sad." Logan crosses his arms and turns his back. "Now I'm gonna go find my own way out of this dumb desert dimension. If you try to follow me…” His claws fly from his fists: Snikt! “You'll regret it."

Russell giggles. He's sitting cross-legged beside Nate on the soft grass of the backyard, playing as Wade while Nate plays as Logan. There's sunlight coming down through Jean's trees and smiles on the boy's faces; Wade can't tell which is brighter. "I don't wanna fight you, Wolvie," Russell says in the deep, flattering voice he uses for Wade. "But I will if I gotta."

Nate growls and makes Logan lunge at Wade, and then they're fighting, the boys making Logan's claws and Wade's katanas clash with dramatic mouth sound effects. Thwack! Clang! Screech! Nate loves fighting, so Wade and Logan clash at least once in many of their games, except when it's Russell's turn to choose and he'd rather have them be best friends or husbands (secretly, Wade kind of looks forward to playing as Logan's husband these days). But Wade is proud to report that he wins their fights some of the time.

He zones out a little as the battle progresses, the boys leaping to their feet and chasing each other around an apple tree. Russell has been a Summers for almost six months now, and everything has changed for the better. No more Chair, no more confinement, no more having to sneak out just to feel safe; these days it's all fun and love and domestic bliss, slowly learning what it's like to be the carefree little boy he always should've been. He's louder and less shy lately, learning that he won't be punished for speaking up. He's wearing colorful clothes that he picked out himself this morning (he chose a Deadpool T-shirt, much to Wade's delight), like every morning now. His eyes are bright. His scars remain, but he's finally healing. Wade has the honor of getting to watch him blossom — and Wade's not the only one.

Nate has lots of other toys besides Logan, and now so does Russell. Meeting them all has been both a bit of a headache and nowhere near as terrifying as Wade expected. He's still Russell's best friend (one of them, anyway, alongside Nate and a few other kids from school; Russell deserves all the best friends), and no amount of plushies, toy cars, or other action figures is ever going to change that. Anyway, the other toys seem to respect Wade's authority as Russell's favorite; either that or they're slightly horrified by the fact that Wade comes alive and talks to Russell on a regular basis, though they don't talk as regularly as they'd like. They've gotten Logan to agree to consider telling Nate the truth, which would make things a lot easier, with Russell and Nate sharing a bedroom and Nate showing signs of having inherited some of Jean's telepathy, but for now, it's a tight-lipped secret. There aren't many secrets anymore.

Russell is no longer ashamed of his powers, doesn't think they're evil or wrong or unnatural; Jean and Scott have made sure of that. They take him and Nate to a private gym twice a week for special training sessions, encouraging their powers to grow like the flowers in the garden. The Essex House for Mutant Rehabilitation was shut down months ago, Headmaster Monster and his staff were thrown in prison for child abuse, and the rescued kids were all sent to New York, to the X-Mansion where they'll be safe and cared for and taught to use their powers for good. The Summers drive up there and visit the kids once a week. Every time they get more hopeful and talkative and likely to join in playing with Russell and Nate.

Once Wade and Logan, tucked in Russell's and Nate's arms respectively, even caught a glimpse of the real Wolverine, who was half as tall and twice as growly as Wade expected. The encounter left Logan in an odd mood for the rest of the day. Wade doesn't know what he'd do if he ever saw the real Deadpool. Probably ask Russell to ask him to challenge the real Wolverine to a fight, to see once and for all who would win.

Today is one of those times that Wade wins.

"Take that!" Russell boasts, because he won their race around the tree and that means Wade won the fight.

"Aw, man!" Nate pouts and spins around in disappointment, then gasps when he accidentally drops Logan in the process. "Uh-oh!" Nate's quick to bend down and grab Logan off the grass, hug him apologetically. Wade wishes he could come alive just to coo at them, they're so adorable together. "I know it's silly," Nate tells Russell, "but sometimes I really feel like Logan's real, y'know? Like he listens to me when I talk, and he knows just what I need to hear when I press his button..." Nate shrugs. Not silly at all, Wade thinks fondly. "Maybe it's just 'cause my uncle's never around in person, and Dad gave me toy Logan when I was a baby."

"Real Logan seems kinda scary," Russell says. "I've never really talked to him, though."

"Yeah, me neither." Nate smiles down at toy Logan. With a gentle button-push Nate retracts Logan's claws, then peels back his fabric mask and strokes his plastic cheek. "I like my Logan better."

Russell winks down at Wade. They both know Logan's going to be preening over that one for a while.

"Boys!" Scott calls from the porch. He's wearing a pink frilly apron that he claims belongs to Jean and waving a spatula for emphasis. His funny red sunglasses, which he wears constantly, even indoors at night, always make Wade want to laugh. "The waffles are done, come on in and eat!"

"Yay, breakfast for dinner!" Nate cheers, while Russell just grins so big and bright and happy, Wade feels as if his plastic chest might melt. "Let's leave Logan and Wade out here together, so they can make up," Nate suggests, bending to carefully sit Logan against the base of the apple tree.

"Good idea!" Russell does the same, sets Wade down close to Logan's side, and runs up the porch steps right beside Nate.

"So!" Wade begins, turning to smile at Logan, who's grinning dopily after the boys. "Do you forgive me for kicking your butt?"

"D'you hear what he said?" Logan asks. He sounds melted, like the happiest toy on Earth.

"Yeah, yeah. Congratulations." Wade pats Logan's shoulder, sighs with deep satisfaction. "Hey," Wade says earnestly, "thanks for bringing us here. Without you, we'd still be..." He clears his throat and moves on; he'd rather not start bawling right now. "Anyway, this is the perfect place for Russell to grow up, him and Nate. Together."

Logan turns his soft smile on Wade, lays a hand on Wade's shoulder in turn. "And we'll be here to watch over 'em," Logan says. "Together."

So there they rest, two toys, until their boys come barrelling back out into the yard to resume playing.