I didn't know how it happened at the time, but looking back it was painfully obvious. He had never liked losing control, not since killing our father. He had always had someone protecting him. He never learned what it was like to feel helpless, weak and pitiful. Jimmy was still young, even after living for over a hundred years.

He hated what I had become. He thought he was losing me. Instead of making me realize what I had become, he had made me hate him. I wanted to make him feel what I had felt. I wanted to make him understand what it was like to have no one, so I killed her—without knowing that he already knew what it felt like. Now, looking back, it was obvious. It was to late to take it all back. I had become an animal, and he couldn't remember that I was his brother. I had lost all of my redeeming qualities.

I had thought I could be a lone wolf, and I had felt like I did well. But now, with the Brotherhood gone, I am alone. The Weapon X program had found me, I couldn't fight off an army. Not on my own. They had always wanted Jimmy—Logan, not me. I was not…what they were looking for. But Logan was safe behind the walls of Xavier's, and I was easy prey. I ran, after months of being locked in a cage like the animal I had become.

It was far to similar to that night, long ago in the middle of winter, but this time I didn't have a sickly little brother slowing me down. My feet left bloody streaks in the snow—ripping open just as fast as they healed. The snow pelted down on me, dripping through my now short hair and dripping off my ribs.

The pain was similar to a different time, after that night in the snow. It reminded me of mud filled trenches, and the stench of festering wounds. WWI was long for most of the infantry. Long nights, leaning sleeplessly against the walls of frozen, stinking holes in the ground. Long winters, filled with frostbite. Long sprints across open ground. It wasn't long for us. The rats, the mud, the infection, none of it bothered us as much as it should have. We spent the nights playing cards, filtering out the complaints of our fellow soldiers, and spent the days killing.

It was perfect in the way that all wars were perfect, made better by premonition that it would not be ending soon. We spent years on the front lines, immortal and unrecognized. Jimmy—Logan started getting twitchy. The fighting was getting to personal for his tastes, especially after that Christmas. He didn't like the way the killing dragged on, but he stayed on the front lines.

I pushed him into war after war for years. I did it to keep him safe, because the memory of that night in the woods, when normal people found out who we were, was still fresh.

A/N

I'm not sure I like the way this turned out. It's a little more scattered then I wanted it to be. Maybe I'll keep it a oneshot, unless people want me to keep going?

Please review!