Destructive behavior was Deadpool's way of coping. He'd just lost Vanessa, one of the most important people in his pre-Deadpool life. Sabretooth had gutted her under his nose, he'd painted the walls with her blood and left a crude message for Wade to uncover.
The mercenary's fist collided with the dry wall in his old apartment, he'd recently bought it - after all Weapon X had stashed them in fancy cells. Wade had decided that leaving the program would be best - he swore revenge on Victor Creed in that moment. The blood lashed his knuckles and healed instantaneously. Deadpool punched the wall four more times with alternate fists, anger flaring up behind his eyes.
The Goddamn inverted colors on his suit sickened him, Vanessa's blood stained the front and he had already removed his shirt and pants. Left in underwear, gloves, and a mask he growled as the wounds would not stay open. The healing factor boost he had received should serve him well in this fight... this fight would also render his new healing factor ineffective. Who knew how long his body would hold together once the injections had ceased? Hell, this was likely the last time he'd even be alive.
Wade looked at his clear skin one last time. He gazed into the mirror and rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as the black mask and red eyes lifted. Deadpool rested his gloved hands on the basin, he knew that the chip which prevented him from harming Weapon X members needed to be carved out of his skull.
This was for Vanessa, he told himself as he drew a knife and held it against the skin of his skull. This was for Vanessa.
Deadpool was tired, he had endured a long week and he was, essentially, burned out. It had been even longer since he had seen Vanessa, so long in fact that his thoughts wandered to if she was even alive. The apartment had felt empty, but he found that he could cope and manage himself a little better than when she first moved in.
He slung a rucksack, previously full of explosives, into the corner of the room.; Deadpool then pulled off of his mask and tossed it onto the couch. Wade huffed and walked toward the kitchen. "Ness? You home?" He called out, assuming it was in vain.
Wade had not seen Vanessa in several days, he always had to assume that she was busy with some kind of work and unable to call; however there was always the worry that she had been fatally wounded or attacked.
The mercenary sat idly on the couch, the flicker of the TV the only light in the whole apartment. It was just after midnight, the cat was asleep and all the crap was on. "No good shows on anymore." Deadpool complained to himself.
He was sat in the corner, pillows from his bed resting up behind him. It would seem that Wade had been sleeping on the couch, something he tended to do a lot, but in wait of Vanessa rather than because he was too lazy to move into his bed. The cushions of the couch were bunched up on his torso where he had... been hugging them for some reason.
Deadpool wore boxer shorts and a vest, nothing more. His suit was off in the bedroom along with the mask, yes he was relaxed. Whatever it was which streamed past his vacant eyes kept him distracted enough, kept the mind from wandering to Vanessa's health and whereabouts. She was a clever woman, she knew how to take care of herself... right?
Wade Wilson had received a lot of terrible news in his time; contracts had gone awry, he had a hit on his life in response to his work, friends had died... but nothing could prepare him for the news he had been given that very afternoon.
The piece of paper the doctor had handed Wade in that dimly lit office had made his heart skip a beat quicker than any bullet or opponent ever could. The man had ran his callous hands through the thick, brown hair which he was aware that he could lose within the coming months. The dark pools in his eyes scanned the results over and over and over and over again. His free hand clutched at the paper tightly, crushing it as he began to shake. What was that? Fear? Yes, it was fear; something he had not felt in a long, long time.
The mercenary left the doctor's surgery with a sweat on his brow and a piece missing from his soul. Everything had come crashing down. He and Vanessa were going to have a good life, they were going to settle down, find a place... they were going to be normal. Now he had to tell her, he had to save her from this doomed existence. She didn't deserve to suffer along with him, no, she had to go her own way... they had money, she was earning, he would leave her some money so that she could at least get a better place. The better life would happen for one of them, it had to. He worked too hard, endured too much, for this to end so terribly.
Wade steeled himself up, he pulled on his jacket and slung his rucksack over his shoulder. Everything he needed was back at his apartment, these were just emergency supplies... ammunition, two small guns, extra clothes. The man let himself into Vanessa's apartment, he had a key, and hoped that she wasn't working. Forgetting to call ahead was not something he usually did. That would have set off alarm bells if Vanessa knew him; Vanessa knew him well, better than anyone else. Wade set some money down on the shelf by the front door, next to her keys.
"Wade?"
Vanessa's voice was cautious, she was a good kid, always knew when to be wary. She had not yet shown herself, she definitely learned well. Then again, she had been taught by the best. "Yeah, it's me." He called. His voice was solemn, not as upbeat as it tended to be around her.
Vanessa's slender form appeared from the kitchen, her smile was as radiant as any and she seemed in high spirits. The two of them were always in high spirits when they were together. She was dressed in a white, low cut tank top and scruffy denim shorts. The two shared an embrace, lips locking together and hands clasped around each other.
"Ness, we, we gotta talk."
***
The time seemed to crawl by, tears pricked at Vanessa's eyes. She held Wade's hand, his thumb traced over the rear of her palm in a reassuring matter. The mercenary never told her that everything would be okay, he didn't tell her that they would work through this or get past it, he simply sat in silence.
"I have t'go. Take care of yerself, Ness. I've left you some cash from my last job." Wade stood, tall and commanding. His mind had been made up, Vanessa would do better without him, even if every part of him wanted to stick by her, wanted to comfort her and die with her. He couldn't put Vanessa through that, wouldn't put Vanessa through that.
"No... Wade, please... we... we can fight this -- " The tears stung at Vanessa's eyes, her hands clasped together in her lap as she struggled to stop herself from trembling.
"Ness... we can't. This is... It's what I deserve. I think it's a long time comin', too." How many had he killed over the years? How much innocent blood was on his hands? The weight of their deaths were on Wade Wilson's shoulders; this was karma, straight and true.
"You can't leave me, Wade-- please -- I need you! Wade, please... hold me... I need you."
"Yeah... I know you do. That's why I figure it's better for me to fade out now... while this... thing between us isn't too serious yet." That hurt for him to say. They were going to have a life... be normal, be safe...
Vanessa had gone quiet, her voice struggled against the tears which had started to flow from her eyes. She looked up into Wade's eyes as he cupped her cheek gently. "But it is serious... we love each other..."
"Ness-- yer just a kid! Yer a runaway-- a street worker--" no, she was always more than that "I'm a thug an' a merc. Right now... we ain't got nothin' 'cept some fun every time I blow into Boston." Goddamn his chest was tight, aching, but the stoic, unfeeling machine of a mercenary shone through. The facade was stronger than the man.
"That's not true, Wade... You know it. You're just saying that... trying to make me hate you." Her voice was quiet again, Vanessa's eyes closed and more tears seeped through her thick, pretty lashes.
Vanessa continued to protest, Wade pulled away. He straightened the strap on his bag and faintly smiled one last time. "You should. I do. Goodbye, Ness." Wade turned, prepared to leave, when Vanessa piped up again. The girl's voice was little more than a whimper, but it was a powerful protest nonetheless. Her throat was raw with emotion, mind not knowing what to do.
"But-- but-- you don't really know me." Big, spectacular eyes looked at the cold figure, Wade's head turned to face her, although his body and mind was ready to walk straight out of that door. Vanessa clutched the couch with a white-knuckle grip.
"An' I guarantee that you don't really know me either, kid." The mercenary turned back, the tone in his voice was like ice. "An' I also guarantee that you don't want to..."
With that, Wade Wilson walked toward the front door of Vanessa's apartment. His footsteps were heavy, regretful, but powerful all the same. This was a decision he made for her own sake, she could move on, get a better man, a new life. He wouldn't let himself drag her down, not like he dragged his dad down in that drunken bar brawl. He wouldn't let Vanessa watch him die like he watched his mother die. That wasn't fair.
"Wade!" Vanessa's voice called, voice hoarse, cheeks red and stained with tears and run mascara. "No! We're going to get through this together! Together!" The mercenary stopped for a fraction of a second, door knob firmly in his grasp. Vanessa crawled to the arm of the couch; she was peeping over the edge like a frightened child, in that very moment, she was exactly that. Salty tears dripped silently onto the pillows.
SLAM.
Wade was gone, the money drifted off the shelf and onto the floor. Vanessa collapsed, emotionally distraught, her face buried into the arm of the couch as she sobbed uncontrollably.
The mercenary closed his eyes, the unfamiliar sting of his own pain welling up behind the eyelids caught him off guard as he walked briskly down the street with hands thrust deep in pockets.
Vanessa heaved quietly, no sound escaping her plump lips besides two words: "Together... forever..."
