The Sanity Claus(e)

by Indigo

 

 


DISCLAIMER: This story is copyright me, but the characters belong to Marvel Comics. No profit is made by me, and the story exists for entertainment purposes only.

WARNING: This story is 95% silly and sweet, but 5% disturbing and weird. Be warned.

PERMISSIONS: Archive_ok, usual rules apply. Ask first unless you have carte blanche. Do not MST or pop-up. Thanks!


~I *must* love the woman, I *must* love the woman, I must *love* the woman,~ Wade Wilson thought to himself as he and his one-year-old daughter 'Emmanem' (short for Maeve and Mercedes, her first and middle names) trooped through the crazed bustle of pre-holiday shoppers in the mall.

Under his fall of sandy hair and accompanying jaunty Santa hat, Wade was smiling, though. His wife Theresa had suggested he take their little girl to see Santa. The baby had turned her big green eyes on her Daddy. Wade had taken one look at that little round face, and it had been game over.

Daddy Deadpool had melted into a gooey puddle at his daughter's feet. So Maeve had been bundled by her smiling mommy Theresa into her new red snowsuit, snuggled into her red mittens with the bell ribbons on them, and off they had gone.

Wade would have sooner eaten Galactus' toejam than admitted it, but he had, until quite recently, hated the mall. Especially at Christmas. Time was, he could've out-humbugged Scrooge and out-Grinched the Grinch.

But now he had a woman who loved him and a daughter who believed he hung the moon. Terry hadn't even had to ask him not to redefine the spelling of the place to "maul." For the most part, all was right with his world.

So right, in fact, he thought it was only appropriate that he share his

happiness. ~After all, isn't that what Christmas is about?~ He cast a glance vaguely northward and his smile broadened.

"How's about a couple detours first, my little power puff girl?"

Maeve smiled widely, showing off her two front teeth.

*pop*

Blind Alfred was sitting in a rocking chair, snoozing beneath a comfy flannel blanket. On her lap, the head of Deuce the mastiff rested -- until Wade and Maeve arrived. The dog growled once in alarm, and Alfred raised a brow, lifting her nose into the air to scent out her visitor. "Didn't hear the door, which means that it's ... Wade?" Inwardly, she braced herself. A visit from Wade didn't often herald good news. But he seemed to have no ill will toward her. He'd set her free last Christmas, and she'd been terrified ever since of Wade waking up one day and changing his mind. He had let her be -- until now.

Alfred sniffed again. "Wade, did you just rip off the Johnson and Johnson baby powder factory?"

Wade merely chuckled in response and set his little girl on Alfred's lap. "Meet your auntie Al," he whispered to Maeve.

Alfred gasped. "You had a baby?!"

"Well, me 'n Siryn..." Wade corrected, grinning all the more broadly.

Maeve looked up at Blind Alfred for a long, appraising moment.

"Wade...?"

"It's okay, Alfred. She hasn't got any powers. Yet. And you're immune to the Special Big Green Eyes Attack."

The toddler took a deep breath, sneezed once, and then snuggled in against Alfred's chest, cooing contentedly. "Ahntee."

Alfred gentled up a gnarled hand and drew it slowly down the contours of the baby's face. Maeve giggled, delighted, and grabbed the finger in her tiny fists. "Ahntee!"

"She's just precious, Wade," Alfred's old face lit up and lost ten years as she smiled beneath her wraparound black glasses. "What brings you two here today?"

Wade gestured around. "Can't have you being a shut-in, old girl," Wade teased, lifting his child back into his arms. "I'm on my way to take Maeve here to visit Santa Claus. You wanna come with?"

Alfred was already on her feet, cane in hand. "Try and stop me. Somebody has to make sure you don't wreck the entire mall."

Wade chuckled and kissed Alfred on the cheek. "Merry Christmas to you too, Al." He took her outstretched hand, and activated his teleporter again.

*pop*

"Weezoh!" Maeve's cry announced her presence before her father could say a word.

Jack Hammer, formerly known as Weasel, was hunched over his computer until the little girl called his name. Then he looked up. "Little Em!" He grinned, pushed his glasses up onto his nose, and rushed over to pepper the little girl's face in kisses.

Maeve accepted this treatment graciously, giggling and wriggling. "Tickles!"

"We're takin' Maeve to see Santa Claus," Wade explained. "Figured you'd want to come with."

Weasel's eyes lit. "Yeah? How are we getting to the North Pole?"

Wade blinked dumbly for a second, then grinned. "I was gonna stop at the mall, actually, Weaz. But you know -- I like *your* idea *better.*"

"Wade -- you can't be serious." Alfred looked alarmed.

"Oh, sure I can. I'm one of his best employees." Wade puffed up his chest proudly.

Alfred turned a helpless, pleading look on Weasel, but Weasel only gentled an arm around the old lady's shoulder. "Long story, Al. Trust me, it'll be fun."

Maeve giggled wholeheartedly in agreement.

*pop*

Wade, Blind Alfred, Weasel and Maeve found themselves standing in the center of a straw-covered floor in a large barnlike structure painted a cheery red and white with gold trim. Above them was a snow-frosted skylight. The blustering winter wind was visible through the glass.

Wade looked around, grinning, and yelled -- "Who wants wint-o-green Lifesavers?" He held up a bag in one mittened hand.

Around them, the stable burst into activity. There was much snuffling and scraping before the heads of eight reindeer appeared. ~Tiny? Nuh-uh,~ Wade thought, before tossing the lifesavers in a wide arc.

"Weasel! Baby!" From one of the stalls came a voice. Before Weasel could properly brace himself, he was down; a voluptous and gorgeous brunette in a tight red PVC minidress and matching spike-heeled pumps had pounced him and was smothering him with kisses. "You came to visit us!"

Weasel's reply was a cheerful mumble, muffled beneath the young woman's affections. The first young woman was joined by a second.

"Hey, Dancer. Hey, Vixen."

Wade grinned down at the two girls as they bussed Weasel. "What, no smooches for Wade now that I'm an old married guy?"

"Wade!" the twins chorused, and scampered over to greet him with -- slightly more subdued affections. "And this is the baby? She's so *cute*! Hi, baby!"

Wade's grin lit his face up like the Times Square Christmas tree. "Yup. This's Maeve. Isn't she the msot beautiful baby you ever saw?"

~As I live and breathe, who would ever have thought Wade Wilson would be full of fatherly pride.~ Blind Al simply clasped her hands and listened to the happy conversation until Wade got around to introducing her. "Hello there," she said graciously. "Wade's told me absolutely nothing about you." Her smile was warm, though -- no true bitterness tinged her words.

"He's not allowed to," Vixen explained, patting Al's hand gently. "Sworn to secrecy he is!"

Wade simply whistled and looked innocent, watching Maeve cling to the back of Blitzen, who mince-pranced carefully around the center of the stable. "Whee!" cried the tot, waving one mittened hand excitedly at her father.

Alfred looked faintly bewildered at the reactions of the young woman, but said nothing.

"C'mon, the Mrs. will have a hissyfit if we don't show you proper hospitality and take you up to the main house." Dancer had finally finished making out with Weasel (who seemed to have no problem with the idea that she spent at least part of her time as a reindeer).

Vixen whistled through her teeth. The stalls marked DASHER and PRANCER swung open, and the two reindeer corresponding marched out with their heads held majestically high. They huffed affectionately into Wade's hair, breath pleasant and minty from the Lifesavers. The twin girls then pulled open another door and hooked up a shining silver sled to the harnesses on the two reindeer. "Everybody hop in!"

Wade lifted his little girl into his lap and squeezed in with Alfred and Weasel. The upholstery was warm and plush beneath them. "The Mrs. shears the Yeti every year," Dancer confided.

The sleigh ride was short and brisk. Alfred found herself alternately clutching Weasel's elbow for dear life, and laughing. "I feel like a kid again!"

The sleigh skidded neatly to a stop in a little port alongside a house that looked -- well, for all the world -- like a fairy-tale Gingerbread House<tm>. Puffs of cottony white smoke fluffed up from the chimney at regular intervals, with the absolutely wonderful fragrance of fresh baked cookies wafting along with it.

"Mrs. Claus, Deadpool's here to see the Boss. He brought his little girl and some friends." Vixen spoke into the candy-cane shaped intercom.

"Oh, well, how delightful, dear," came the response. The voice was softly accented, sweet, and motherly. "Show them in, then, right away. I'll contact the kitchen to make some nice hot cocoa and cookies."

Maeve gazed with wide green eyes as they stepped from the garage proper into the workshop. Red and green-clad uniformed -- elves -- bustled to and fro.

Weasel stared in astonishment. "He really *does* have elves!"

"Some of them are elves," Vixen corrected. "Many of them are kids who were not blessed with loving parents." She indicated one elf who was carefully painting tiny details on a model car. "Some of them are even kids Wade

himself rescued last year. The Mr. and the Mrs. don't have children of their own -- so they adopt the littles who have no family. It all works out for the best."

As if on cue, five of the 'elves' rushed Wade. "WAAAAADE!" And he found himself waist deep in happy rugrats.

"Bah, humbug," Wade said, knowing he wasn't fooling anyone.

Maeve frowned at the other children and huddled protectively against Wade's chest. "*MY* daddy," she scolded.

"Your daddy," Wade comforted his daughter, giving her a big kiss on her forehead. She immediately calmed, smiling happily at him. She smiled even wider as the gaggle of children around her father grew -- each of them oohing and ahhing that he'd brought his little girl to visit them.

The twins led Wade and his increasingly large entourage into the sitting room. Huge, comfy chairs, big enough that even Wade felt like a small boy in one, sat before a roaring fire in the fireplace.

Weasel flopped down contentedly in one, plucking a gingerbread man from one of the five plates of cookies on the settee. Wade cleared his throat, and Weasel leapt to his feet again, as a plump female shadow approached the room -- heralding the arrival of Mrs. Claus.

"Sorry to come visit during your busy season Mrs. C," Wade said solicitiously, "But Terry said 'take Maeve to see Santa,' and, well, it'd be kinda lame if I took her to see some schlub in a suit when the Real McKringle is a congenial acquaintance."

"Oh, Wade, don't be silly. It's a joy to see you. And it's 'Jessica.'" Mrs. Claus bustled in, apron and face dotted with flour from baking. She hoisted her skirts, climbed atop a hassock, and kissed Wade's cheek. "And if I didn't know better, I'd swear you had a touch of second sight, my boy."

Wade raised a brow. "Trouble? You need another thousand kids rescued?"

"No, no, dear. Nothing like that. Kristoph has kept courses up, training the older kids to do that, after you were kind enough to show us how you did it last year. But Kristoph is a bit under the weather."

The children gathered around nodded solemnly.

"Under the weather?" Alfred repeated. "What a shame."

"What happened, Jessica?" Wade asked, as Maeve decided she wanted Mrs. Claus to hold her for a moment.

"Well, it's silly, really. I mean, honestly -- the man's been doing rooftops for hundreds of years, and he breaks his leg skiing!" She threw up one hand and blew her silver-tinted red bangs out of her face in exasperation.

"You're kidding," Weasel blinked. "Anything we can do to help?"

"Oh, you're such a *good* boy, Jack," Jessica cooed, pinching Weasel's cheek. "I knew you'd ask."

Wade grinned crookedly. "Hey, if not for you and the hubby, Jessica, I'd still be bitter, ugly, and alone. Anything that's in my power is yours."

"Well, he is convinced he can handle his usual one-night detail all by himself, but to get up and down the chimney alone, on crutches -- nevermind the bag of toys..." Jessica wrung her hands, blue eyes full of worry. "He's not as young as he used to be, you know."

Weasel blinked again, and glanced up at Wade to see if he was getting what the elderly lady was hinting at.

He was.

And he was taking a couple steps back, preparatory to bolting.

"Come *on*, Wade, you can't let the guy down!" Al poked him in the butt with the tip of her cane.

Wade yelped and glowered indignantly at Alfred. "Okay...what do I have to do?" he asked, feigning defeat.

In Mrs. Claus' lap, Maeve cooed approvingly at her father.

* * * * *

"BWAH HA HA HA HAH HA HAH HA HAH HAH HA!"

"Wade, dear, you need to stop rolling around on the floor or you're going to ruin the suit." Mrs. Claus scolded him gently.

"...it's priceless..." Wade chortled, shoving up the too-big sleeves of the Santa suit. "Just priceless!"

"Let us in on the joke!" Alfred called from where she sat sipping a mug of Irish Coffee.

"The Naughty list...it is to laugh!" Wade gasped, and then collapsed in a new peal of laughter.

Weasel peered down at the golden calligraphy on the white paper, and read aloud:

"Wilson Fisk gets a lump of coal. Nathaniel Essex gets a lump of coal. En Sabah Nur gets a lump of coal. Cletus Kasady gets a lump of coal....I think I see where this is going. "

"It gets better," Wade guffawed, holding up a green sheet of paper with gold calligraphy. "The 'Nice' list!"

"Edward Brock gets a one pound box of Godiva chocolate?" Weasel read. "Emma Frost gets the full series of 'Chicken Soup for the Soul' books. Remy LeBeau gets a new set of lockpicks." He blinked. "Black Bolt gets a karaoke machine? Luke Cage gets an adamantium-reinforced king sized bed..."

"Does it really say karaoke machine? Land sakes, that's a typo. It's a good thing you boys caught it," Mrs. Claus frowned thoughtfully at the list.

"Roberto DaCosta gets a picture of his father?" Weasel crinkled a brow and shrugged. "And Wade has to deliver all this stuff in one night?"

Mrs. Claus nodded. "That's the long and the short of it."

"Uh, forgive me for being the stick in the mud here, Jessie," Wade ventured, "But HOW in the name of little green apples am I supposed to get everybody on the planet a present between Christmas eve and Christmas morning?"

"It's very simple, Wade," Jessica assured him with a gentle scruffle of his hair. "It's possible because children the world over *believe* it's possible. Christmas magic is some potent stuff."

Wade nodded. "Okay. I'll do it. Sheesh, my reputation is history if this gets out to the merc population..." He took a deep breath. "But first, I promised my wife that I'd take my little girl to see Santa -- and even if I'm a stand-in, I ain't him. So if you don't mind, ma'am...?"

"Of course, Wade."

* * * * *

Kristoph St. Nicholas sat in front of a computer, typing away rapidly with one hand, and clicking a castrated mouse with the other. "Naughty, naughty, naughty, nice. Naughty, nice. Naughty, naughty, nice. Nice, nice, nice, nice." He reached for his mug of wassail, and glanced up as a chime indicated his office door was being opened. "Ah, Jessica, dear --" he came up short, but smiled. "Wade, my boy! How have you been, lad?"

"Better and better every day since I worked for you, no lie." He ceremoniously set his one year old on Kringle's knee. "This is my daughter, Maeve -- and I promised her I'd take her to see Santa."

Maeve reached up and gave St. Nicholas' beard an enthusiastic tug. Wade and Weasel winced, but Claus only let fly with his trademarked hearty laugh. "Smart as a pistol, isn't she? Most kids aren't clever enough to reach for the whiskers right away." He went serious, fixing Wade with a solemn gaze. "Seriously, though, Wade. I'm glad it's all worked out for you."

"Wade's flying for you on Christmas eve, dear," Jessica murmured, giving her husband a squeeze.

"Now, dear, I'm *fine,*" Kristoph protested.

"You are *not* fine," Jessica insisted gently. "And Wade's standing in for you that the children need not be disappointed -- and why, you can rest your leg."

Kristoph sighed and shrugged. "Love her too much to argue. Thank you, m'boy. It'll practically be a second honeymoon for us." He swept his wife into his arms and kissed her passionately.

"Kris!" Jessica blushed. But she remained where she was. "Run along, Wade. The sleigh should be ready for you by the time Christmas Eve rolls around. Don't worry about a thing. Dancer and Vixen have been administrative assistants for most of this century. They won't let you miss a single house. I promise."

Wade swept his little girl up into his arms and chuckled, reaching for his teleport buckle. ~How am I ever going to explain this to Terry...?~

* * * * *

As it turned out, Theresa wasn't remotely displeased. "'Tis a fine thing ye're doin', m'luv," she complimented him. "But since poor wee I will haveta stay all alone at home on Christmas Eve, I think I'd best give ye one of yer presents now, hm?" She peeped in on Maeve, who was snoozing with Blind Al in the rocking chair beside her crib; with an impish grin, she tugged Wade by his elbow into their soundproofed bedroom.

* * * * *

Several "Hot Siryn Love Wails" later, Wade kissed his sleeping wife's cheek and went out to check on the list. Magically, the lists were each a yard longer than they had been when Wade had brought the original scrolls home. His eyes widened as he tracked down the list:

Frank Castle: NAUGHTY [crossed out] NICE -- Christmas with a family
Stephen Strange: NICE -- The SoulSword
Steve Rogers: NICE -- Shiny new motorcycle helmet
Anthony Stark: NICE -- bottle of "CK1"
Kurt Wagner: NICE -- Amanda Sefton, home for the holidays
Carol Danvers: NAUGHTY -- The support of her friends during her future tribulations.
Erik Lensherr: NAUGHTY -- Spinach and liver
Cain Marko: NICE -- Life size stuffed "Snorlax" Pokemon
The Slingers: NICE -- improved study habits
Franklin Richards NICE -- all 151 Pokemon
Robert Farrell: NICE -- New powered skateboard
Victor Creed: NAUGHTY -- "vegetable of the month" club membership
Clint Barton: NICE -- his hearing
Melissa Gold: NICE -- 24 hours of peaceful time to spend with Abner Jenkins
Charles Xavier: NAUGHTY -- a one year vacation without his powers, not incarcerated.
Victor VonDoom: NICE -- trip home
Wade Wilson: NAUGHTY -- a lump of coal and a headstone
Wade Wilson: NICE -- a new costume

Wade blinked at that last entry. "Two...?" He gulped, reading what was scheduled to go to the *first* Wade Wilson. He frowned, and picked up the phone, dialing 1-877-1-HO-HO-HO. ~Amazing. Who'd'a thought the touch-tones would play 'Deck the Halls'?~

A sultry french-accented voice answered on the fifth ring. "Alo! North Pole, packing and checking department, Jeanne-Marie Beaubier speaking."

"Hiya, Jeannie, got a question about the list. Bossman around?"

"I think he and the Mrs. are in the hot tub again, can I take a message?"

"Yeah. I'm just kinda concerned that there's a naughty and a nice listing under my name..." Wade replied, bewildered.

"Oui, I'll tell him right away. Thanks for catching it, Wade. Au revoir!"

Wade went back to perusing the list and checking it twice, with a growing sense of unease.

* * * * *

"Miss Pryde, you're up."

Kitty Pryde looked down at her flowing gossamer gown and the stalk of wheat the little man had given her. "You've *got* to be kidding," she protested.

The little satyresque man called Pip shook his head and took another drag off his cigar. "We cast by need and appropriateness. You're connected to the guy, so you get to be the ghost."

"But I'm JEWISH!" Kitty protested. "C'mon, I have catching up to do with Pete!" She glanced down at the oblivious heap of sleeping Englishman on the bed.

"And I promise, it won't take you more than a couple seconds. Besides, I think you owe him one, hm?" The short, bare-chested man plucked a photograph from behind one pointed ear and handed it to Shadowcat.

Shadowcat blinked at the photo once, then grinned widely. "Okay, Jewish or not, you got yourself a Ghost of Christmas Present." She then pointed into Pip's chest. "And *no* photos of me in this get-up are to circulate to Logan or Pete, is that clear?"

Pip grinned, and a cartoon halo sprang into existence over his head -- *ping*. "Of course not, Miss Pryde."

* * * * *

"Mr. Poindexter, you're on in five."

"And I'm doing this why?" The assassin known as Bullseye peered dubiously at the toga and cornucopia that had been laid before him.

"Because he's a friend of yours, because it's Christmas, and because you have nothing better to do tonight."

"I do too--" Bullseye protested, leaping for his datebook. But he had no killings scheduled until well into the new year. Crestfallen, he turned back to Jean-Paul Beaubier. "Okay. Just this once, but if you tell ANYBODY this is me, I'm coming after you with fuzzy dice and my fingernail clippings."

"I'm sure," Northstar sneered, unperturbed.

* * * * *

"...And you're up in ten, Monty."

Montgomery blinked his tender new eyelids and smiled with his soft new lips. "Okay -- but I don't look the part."

"It's okay, I think under the circumstances, we can make allowances. But your ability makes you absolutely perfect for this part, you have to admit."

"I don't *have* that ability anymore," Monty protested quietly. Zoe Culloden was sleeping at the other side of the room and he didn't want to disturb her.

"Are you absolutely sure?" The Impossible Man and Dr. Bong looked at each other, then back at Montgomery, concern on their faces.

Monty blinked, and his eyes widened in astonishment. "Whoa -- that's a rush. I think I need to sit down." He did just that. "I think I need a drink, too." But he accepted the robe from Dr. Bong's outstretched hands and shrugged into it. He pulled the hood over so it shadowed his face -- one Wade would not have recognized anyway. "How do I look?"

"Fabulous."

"Then it's showtime!"

* * * * *

Maeve had climbed out of her crib and toddled unsteadily in her footsie pajamas to the Christmas tree. She was very quiet not to disturb her sleeping father, who lay buried in a huge pile of paperwork, sound asleep.

"Hey there, munchkin." Kitty Pryde's hands phased through the wall seconds after her head, and she scooped the baby up into her arms. "He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake." She kissed Maeve's forehead and gave her a gentle pat on the bottom before setting her down again. Maeve gave Kitty wide, wondering eyes, but toddled obediently off to bed.

Kitty followed, waiting until the child was asleep again, before she returned to the sleeping Wade, and kicked his leg so that he went flying off the sofa to land on the floor with a crumple-thud amongst the Naughty and Nice lists.

"Hiya, Deadpool." Kitty smiled down at Wade. "Okay, it's like this, it's Christmas Eve *eve*, since you have work to do tomorrow night. You asked about that double entry there?" She pointed and the twin instances of Wade Wilson glowed from the ribbon of paper.

"I don't wanna know the answer to this question, do I?"

Shadowcat smirked and whacked Wade upside the head with her stalk of wheat. "Yeah, you do." She turned to click the remote on the flatscreen TV. "You've seen SCROOGED, no doubt?"

"Yeah," Wade confirmed, indignantly disentangling himself from the mass of paper. "But I'm *already* a changed man."

Kitty shrugged. "Hey, I'm only the hired help." She perched on the arm of Wade's sofa while the screen lit with an idyllic forest scene.

Wade frowned as the camera zoomed in on a cozy country cottage. "I recognize that house," he said uncertainly. The camera zoomed in even further to orient on a couple snuggling like newlyweds in front of a roaring fire, sipping from mugs of steaming cocoa.

Wade leapt to his feet, fingers tracing the face of the beautiful woman chatting contentedly with the man beside her on the sofa. "M-Mercedes..." His blue eyes widened in recognition and horror, and he wheeled on the ghostly Shadowcat curiously watching the display. "Make sure my daughter doesn't see this," he pleaded. "This is a part of my past ... I thought I'd forgotten. I don't know how I could have." His eyes dropped momentarily to the floor before coming back up and remaining fixed on the screen.

Pryde nodded and gestured, and the nursery door swung soundlessly closed.

On the screen, the couple bundled up in parkas, progress impeded by pausing to kiss and snuggle; then they tromped cheerily through the snow with buckets toward the river a few hundred yards away. In the water, they found a man floating. Blue-skinned and waterlogged, he was only a heartbeat away from death before the couple fished him out and swathed him in blankets.

"I don't ..." Wade stammered, eyes welling with tears. But he watched, nonetheless as the "film" reeled onward.

The kindly couple nursed their mystery guest back to health -- they fed him soup and oatmeal and gave him new clothes to wear.

And in repayment for their kindness? He came upon them with the axe they used to chop wood and killed them. Blood sprayed the cabin walls, and before long, it was their bodies burning in the fireplace. "Oh, God..." Wade gasped, feeling his gorge rise. He finally turned away, as the scene's final shot was a close up of Mercedes' severed head; her wide innocent eyes were frozen open, and blood splattered her face.

"What was the point of that?" Wade demanded, sobbing openly.

Shadowcat looked apologetic. "You wanted to know why there were two Wade Wilsons on the list, and I wanted to know why you were such a nutcase. I guess that was part of your answer, Wade." She hopped off the sofa and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "For what it's worth? I had no idea it was going to be so painful for you. I'm sorry, and I hope the rest of the night brings you a bit more peace." Her expression was sympathetic and genuine; Wade reminded himself he stood for something better now, and quelled the urge to throttle her.

"You're telling me there's more?" Wade gasped, pulling himself to his feet.

"'Fraid so," Shadowcat confessed. "It's a theme. Hey, don't look at me,I'm Jewish." With that, and one more apologetic look at Wade, she phased through the floor and was gone.

Wade, left to himself for a moment, bowed his head and wept again for the loss of his first wife and the tragedy that had come from a simple bit of human trust.

* * * * *

"Wade...?"

Wade woke up swinging, and found the end of a Pixy Stix<tm> candy pointed at his forehead.

"Don't even go there, homeboy. I'm doing this as a favor. I'm told I gotta show you this, and explain to you what you see if you're too thick to figure it out yourself."

"Bullseye?"

Bullseye shrugged, and yanked Wade by the collar of his jacket. "Let's go, I do *not* wanna spend all night readin' you the Yuletide Riot Act." With that, he pulled Wade *through* the wall, and into a familiar cherry red big finned VTOL Cadillac.

"Dare I ask where we're going?" Wade inquired, resigned.

"To the home of the man you created by killing him," Bullseye explained.

"Oh, that clears things *right* up."

"Hey, don't look at me. You're the headcase who needs the Scrooge treatment." He tipped the nose of the car into a steep dive -- directly through the roof of a Motel 8 on Route 66.

Sitting in the center of a devastated motel room was T-Ray. ~I knew I should've killed you last December,~ Wade thought, teeth clenching in hate. "He killed me and my wife," Wade rasped. "You brought me here to make sure he doesn't kill anyone else?"

"Not quite," Bullseye replied. "You have it backward. You killed *him* and *his* wife. You asked why there were two Wades on the big list? That's why. He's Wade Wilson. You just *think* you're Wade Wilson."

"Come again?"

"Hey, he's only come back from the dead solely to avenge himself and the little woman. Not his fault you couldn't handle killing the frail. That itsy bitsy mind of yours snapped and you believed yourself the victim instead. I'm told you've made an almost full recovery, though." Bullseye smiled coldly. "Too bad the gorilla that walks like a man has nothing to live for but your death, right?"

T-Ray, unaware of his audience, murmured arcane incantations, and passed his hands through candle-flames.

"No," Wade whispered.

"Yes," Bullseye insisted.

"No!" Wade shouted, and flung himself from the paseenger seat. "I've come too far to lose it all now!"

"Good thinking," said a familiar voice, as Wade's blind stumbling brought him to a sudden stop.

"Don't tell me -- you're the Future, right?" Wade asked, resigned.

"'Fraid so," the shrouded figure confirmed. "But my part in all this is small. You showed up NICE on the list because you've pretty much come to walk the straight and narrow since last Christmas. And that's good. But if you don't make up for what you did in your checkered past -- you could lose everything you've gained."

The figure swept his cape over Wade's eyes, revealing an image of Theresa Roarke Cassidy Wilson and their seven year old daughter Maeve, and their two year old son Jack -- crying over a gravesite whose headstone read:

WADE WILSON
Beloved Husband
and father

"Terry, we're sorry," Sam Guthrie consoled his friend. "We were all so happy for ya when Wade reformed. You know you n' the kids are welcome with us 'til ya get back on your feet."

"I will hae my revenge upon the one who killed m' Wade," Terry whispered through her black veil. "Ye will look after my wee children, Sam? Ye promise me?"

"Terry, no..." Wade gasped, reaching into the image. But Terry tore off her funeral dress to reveal the Siryn costume beneath it. Cannonball and Sunspot flew to stop her, but she shrieked at a frequency to make their equilibrium abandon them, and they had to land.

"She'll die if she goes up against T-Ray, won't she?" Wade asked the final spectre.

"Yeah. And T-Ray'll see it as tit for tat. You killed his wife. He'll kill yours. But you know, like in the movies? The future isn't set in stone. You can prevent this."

Wade looked up into the shadows of the hooded figure looming over him. "How?"

"Give it a little thought," the final spirit said encouragingly, patting Wade's shoulder with a perfectly normal human hand. "And expect an invitation to Zoe's and my wedding, hm?" The spirit flung off his hood, and winked. "Best of luck to you, Wilson."

"Monty--?" Wade gasped, and found himself wakening on the sofa. The lists were neatly scrolled up on the coffee table before him.

He staggered to the nursery, breathing a relieved sigh as he saw his daughter sleeping peacefully. He stumbled into his bedroom and woke Theresa up, hugging her tightly as if he were afraid she'd disintegrate before his eyes.

"Wade wha' 'tis it?"

"Nothing, baby. Nothing I can't fix." He kissed his wife again, and hit the button on his teleport buckle.

* * * * *

In a devastate motel room, Deadpool materialized, in full battle costume, mask and all.

"Wilson."

Wade nodded silently.

"Come to offer your throat?"

"You know I can't do that."

"Yeah," T-Ray sneered. "I heard you gave up the merc gig, and settled down with a little woman. Be a shame if some psycho kills the pair of you with an axe."

"Yeah, it would. It's a shame it happened once," Wade explained. "And that the man who did it never paid for what he did. For what it's worth, that man's dead now -- and I'm all that's left of him. So I'm gonna do what I can to pay his debt."

T-Ray rose, towering over Wade. "Really...and how do you propose to do that?"

"Friends in high places," Wade shrugged. "You won't even remember me after tonight. Merry Christmas, T-Ray."

Wade gave a bow and teleported out again before T-Ray could even grab at him.

* * * * *

CHRISTMAS EVE NIGHT:

Katie Power left a plate of cheese out for Santa Claus. It didn't matter that Jack teased her for doing it; she knew she'd end up with the better presents.

She turned around to go to bed and found the entire Barbie collection barring her way back to her room -- and one single lonesome package under the tree marked FOR JACK. By the size of it, it was probably clothes.

* * * * *

In New York, Roberto DaCosta sat alone in his room. The Hellfire Club was throwing a formal ball downstairs, but his heart was not in it. He missed his friends in X-Force, and he had not joined the Hellfire Club himself with the Inner Circle's goals at heart.

There was a knock at the door to his balcony. Powering up to Sunspot, Roberto threw wide the doors. Clad in a white fur coat and a red dress, holding a double-frame photo of his parents in her hands -- was Juliana Sandoval.

* * * * *

A wind whipped through the window of T-Ray's motel room, blowing the detritus of T-Ray's presence away -- and sweeping T-Ray with it.

* * * * *

Buoyed on the belief of every child on the planet, Wade Wilson soared high above in air that should've been too thin to breathe --driving a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer.

* * * * *

Christmas morning, Wade Wilson was home to be with his wife Theresa, and his little girl, Maeve.

"How'd it go, Wade?"

"I hope it went well," Wade answered honestly, gathering his loved ones close.

* * * * *

Christmas morning, Wade Wilson woke up to discover himself in the arms of his wife Mercedes and that they were back in their cozy forest cottage.

Wade blinked, brushed a hand through his blond hair in bewilderment, and walked out to his living room. The tree was decorated, and there was a fresh pot of coffee brewing.

Amongst the many presents under the tree, there was one that stood out; its label read: TO WADE, FROM WADE.

Wade tore the package open and found in it a journal. The first page had writing on it, which read:

Dear Wade:

There is no way I can make right what I took from you, but I asked a friend to give it all back.

Today is literally the first day of the rest of your life.

Merry Christmas,

Wade

Wade had no idea why he would've written himself such a note, but he had an increasingly insistent feeling that he should go kiss his wife again -- so he did.

* * * * *

And on a TV set, far far to the north, Kristoph St. Nicholas nodded approvingly.

"You were faking the broken leg the whole time, weren't you?" Jessica whispered to her husband, snuggling close.

"Maybe," Kringle chuckled, as the fake cast fell to the floor, empty.

Then there was nothing but the sound of affectionate laughter and sleighbells.

THE END


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