Shattered (Wolverine)

by Greenygal

Okay, this is...obscure. Or irrelevant, or something. See, it's something that spilled out in the early bits of the X-Books' Shattering storyline--anyone still remember that?--when Professor X rejected Wolverine. When subsequent issues revealed that he did so because Wolverine was a Skrull, I shelved it. But I found it in my files the other day, and you know what, I still like it. :) So I'm posting it; consider it AU, or the result of really serious brainwashing on the Skrull. As always, nobody in here is even a little bit mine.


"I can't trust you."

"I can't trust you."

"I can't *trust* you."

Damn you anyway, Charlie.

You were the one who recruited me. Remember? Told me you needed me. And I pulled up stakes and went. Best I was hoping for was no more red tape, and fights that were more of a challenge. Had no idea I was signing up for a flaming crusade. Still not sure why I stayed, those first couple months. Maybe it was the challenge. Maybe it was Jean.

Maybe it was you.

Every time somebody muttered about me, there you were. Got so I could practically repeat that speech o' yours in my sleep, all about violence and potential. But what it boiled down to was that you thought I could become a better person, and you were determined to make sure I got the chance.

You believed in me, really *believed*. Mac and Heather wanted to, but I'd scared 'em too much, too often, and they weren't really fighters yet, back then. You were a *telepath*. You'd been in and out of every kind of mind, and when you said I was more than a killer, I had to think maybe you knew what you were talking about. And somewhere along the line, you sold me on your damn dream. "A cause *worth* fighting for," you told me. So okay, I fought for it, fought and bled and even died a couple times. I even followed you and the dream up to Asteroid M, and I'd do it again. (Though I kinda hope I won't have to.)

And now you're telling me I'm not good enough. I offered my help, and you said you didn't want it, didn't want me. Didn't *trust* me.

What the hell do you want me to *do*, Charlie? Die? Again? I was there when *your* dark side damn near destroyed the world, you know, and I'm still here. And you don't trust me?

You've been in my head, and I was in yours. What I saw made me willing to fight for you, and what you saw made you tell me to get out. What does that say about us?

What did you see that made you say that? What's wrong with my mind, with me, that you'd say that to me now? I want to believe that there's something wrong, that you didn't mean it, but that's not what I'm getting.

I can't be sure of much of anything, you know that. Not my mind, not my body, not even my own goddamn memories.

But I thought I could depend on what I saw in your eyes, all those years ago. Was that one more lie, Charlie? One more little piece of unreality?

"I can't trust you."

You opened this door, Charlie. Don't slam it on me.






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