Chapter Text
It was a manipulation, that was plain as day. They had been strangers, they had been nothing and somehow-- Wade had been obsessed. It wasn’t genuine, not the way Wade wished it had been meant, but still he was lost in brown doe eyes and long lashes. He found himself leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on Peter’s lips, pouring his emotions out into the barest of touches. He had been Peter’s first priority, even when he meant nothing to him. He wasn’t deluding himself into believing Peter cared for him much yet, no, but Peter was trying so hard to get him to believe it that Wade had to melt at the effort. The longer someone kept up a lie, the deeper it sunk into their bones and one day the lie would be a truth Peter would accept and Wade-- he was willing to wait forever and a half.
[You genuinely believe this. You think he’s going to care.]
{You like him! Admit it-}
[I don’t think he’s useless anymore, maybe not a threat, but I don’t think he’ll ever have the emotions either of you want him to feel and you are deluding yourself-]
{HE’S A CUTIE AND YOU LOVE HIM AND YOU’RE THE DELUSIONAL ONE-}
[He’s insane and he has no other options like us, not unless Wolverine develops a murder kink-]
{Cool, so you agree we should take what we can get-}
[I didn’t say that, those words were not said-]
Wade pulled away with a slight sigh, annoyed with White and Yellow for ruining his moment… and then he saw Peter giving him a playful grin and remembered why he couldn’t indulge in the warmth of his new boyfriend.
“Tony’s dying.”
Peter blinked at him, a slow, soundless stare as his amusement died.
“Is he?” came the unfazed reply.
{Ooof! Cold. }
[What were you expecting? That he’d suddenly be all caring and worried-]
{No! We like him just the way he is- }
Wade laid his head back against the couch cushions beside Peter’s head. He did like Peter. He had liked Spiderman too, though and he wasn’t sure how much of him had been real and how much had been Peter trying to get him interested. There was so much he didn’t know about him still and he knew, realistically, that Peter was using him. Wade didn’t mind being used. He had more of Peter than anyone else ever did. He just hoped that one day he could have everything. Distractedly, he answered, “Liver failure. It’s kind of obvious, but I’m not sure if the others know yet.”
His Angel closed his eyes and hummed for a moment before murmuring, “That’s a shame.”
[What? No-]
{But… wouldn’t he be happy to hear-}
“A shame,” Wade echoed.
“A shame,” Peter repeated, eyes blinking open. “He would have been easy to… look. There isn’t much Stark wouldn’t do for family. He isn’t a great influence, not the best partner and I’m not entirely sure he would make a good father, but he would die to make sure his family was safe. He lost Pepper and he’s a mess of a person. It’s honestly a little embarrassing, but if Stark knew he had a child? If he knew Pepper’s child survived and that I was the only person that knew where she was?” An almost hungry look flashed across warm brown eyes. “Stark would do anything I asked of him. And if he knew what S.H.I.E.L.D. put his wife through? I don’t think I would have to try very hard to get him to level entire compounds all on his own.” He snuggled into his preferred cushion and quietly added, “So it’s a shame.”
Wade took Peter’s hand in his and watched as Peter’s eyes locked on the motion, a pleased little smile stretching across his features. “How long have you been planning this?”
His precious fugitive merely rested his head on Wade’s hand instead of the cushion. “I’ve had a long time to think about things, months to myself to find out what happened in my absence. I shouldn’t have-” he abruptly cut himself off and breathed out, body curled up closer to Wade, both feet tucked under Wade’s thigh as he said, “I missed out on a lot.”
[He’s hiding something.]
{He’s always hiding something, at least he trusts us with-}
White started cackling. [You call this trust? Dear fuck. No, no, he’s… He’s your match in more ways than one but don’t trick yourself into believing that anything he feels for you is real. Did you not hear him? He shouldn’t have what? He’s not telling you things because he doesn’t quite see you as a permanent part of his life!]
{We’re as permanent as we fucking need to be. Ever heard of patience, bitch? That’s a thing! You don’t go up to a person and expect them to pour their life story out- not even therapists can expect that-}
[Yeah. So how many fuckers do you need to kill for him before he feels what you want him to feel. No, this is a lie. The way he wants to manipulate Stark? Because it would be so easy? He’s doing the same thing to you! Except he doesn’t even have to try and you bought him a ring- ]
{YOU HELPED PICK IT OUT-}
Wade winced at the volume in his head, hand jerking back a little in Spidey’s grip. His Death Angel held fast to him and linked their fingers together, waiting for Wade to talk to him with all the patience in the world and Wade felt the voices blurring, his mind clearing for only a moment as he relaxed. This was why Wade couldn’t listen to White. He just couldn’t. Peter Parker hadn’t been around him for very long and somehow he was already so in tune with Wade’s emotions that he could silence his panic with nothing but a small movement of his fingers; he didn’t even need words and Wade was gone. Helpless. How was he ever supposed to resist? When he said nothing, Peter leaned forward and kissed his forehead and Wade forgot all his worries.
Until Peter asked, “Tell me about the last few days?” His smile was all teeth as he added, “You didn’t spend all of it missing me, did you?”
[That’s just it. That, right there. He knew you were with the Avengers and that’s his priority, not you-]
{So it’s a mutually beneficial relationship-}
[Mutual. What are we getting out of this? A bond with the Avengers? He doesn’t care about any of them! He just wants to use them as pawns. A step up in our reputation? We’ve all but lost it now that the world knows what Deadpool felt for Spiderman. No merc will respect us or work for us again, not to mention that they were already angry about the whole Death Angel ordeal! What is it? The fact that he doesn’t look at you like a monster?]
{You’re so fucking self-centered that you can’t even see what he means to us-}
[WHAT IS IT?]
{You can’t even stop to think for two seconds that-}
[That WHAT-? ]
Wade kissed the edge of Peter’s wrist briefly. “I did miss you, Petey,” he whispered. He watched, mesmerized as Peter met his eyes and a hue of red rose up on his skin, almost as if he couldn’t believe someone missed him at all, as if the honesty of it took him by surprise. With warmth blossoming in his chest, Wade confessed, “You’re the only person who doesn’t focus on my crimes. You look at me and it’s almost like-- like I’m not a monster. Except I am. I always will be and you’re the only person that doesn’t care.”
[Christ. You’re going to just hand him the opening he needs to concede when it isn’t genuine-]
“You’re wrong,” Peter mumbled, gaze sweet, a teasing smile half hidden into the couch.
[Wait, what?]
{HA! SUCKER-}
“Your crimes saved my life. Your jobs led to my release and-- eventually-- my escape. I was held captive by the law, abandoned by those who considered themselves heroes, and when I needed a monster-- I had you. You’re the mercenary that S.H.I.E.L.D. feared so much, the murderer-for-hire that the Avengers avoided for so long, the hero ignored by the world in favor of their defeated heroes and when I needed an escape plan, you beat me to it. Wade. Wade, I will never love you. That’s just a fact of life,” Peter dropped the small bottle of nail polish in his other hand and cradled Wade’s cheek in his palm. “But I promised you I would be yours.”
[Oh.]
{You idiot.}
Wade glanced back and forth between Peter’s eyes, his own watching every minute expression as he spoke, his pulse steady in his veins as he understood what Peter meant. No, the famed Death Angel didn’t believe he could love Wade; he didn’t believe he could love anyone, but Wade was well aware of those beliefs from the start and every time Peter tried to make him turn away, it just felt like he was sheltering himself.
He wasn’t going to argue.
{He sees us. He sees what we are and he’s still afraid that we’re going to leave him}, Yellow sighed out, tone love struck and amazed.
White said nothing, retreating as he always did when something was beyond his comprehension.
Wade left White to his own devices. He was a smart box, he would figure it out. He focused on Peter, and he let go of his hand, sliding to the side and laying his head in his precious killer’s lap, watching the bewildered expression that crossed Peter’s face as his hands hovered over Wade’s form before he placed one palm on his chest and the other just behind his ear, scratching lightly at the skin there. Pleased with how comfortable Petey was becoming with physical contact, Wade yawned and said, “Thor’s back by the way.”
Peter’s hands went carefully still and his lips thinned. “Oh?”
Wade turned his head into Peter’s thigh and sighed. “Didn’t get a chance to tell you before I had to hang up. He’s back, though. Doesn’t like me much. He’s got kind of a stick up his ass now that he’s not the team favorite-”
Peter’s hand started scratching absently behind Wade’s ear again as he looked at the wall in thought. “Did he mention Loki?”
Wade blinked once.
[What relevance does Loki play in-]
{He did show up in one of the battles-}
[It’s not like he was fighting. He swept in only for- oh.]
{STOP DOING THAT. I WANT TO BE IN ON THINGS TOO-}
Wade hesitated only for a second, but it was enough for Peter’s eyes to snap back to him in curiosity. “He didn’t,” Wade replied. “Anything you wanna share with the class, Babycakes? Anything concerning a prickly green acquaintance?”
Peter snorted and leveled a grin down at Wade. “He’s not actually green. If anything, he’s probably the palest person I know-”
[Know.]
{Know?}
“Know! You know him,” Wade exclaimed. Of course, Wade met Loki- once. And the God hadn’t exactly approved of him… beyond making a joke about being his father. It was a joke that still bewildered Wade to this day, mostly because he probably wouldn’t have been too bothered to have an eccentric for a parent. “Is he still around? Come to Earth lately? Does he still want to be my Papi-”
Peter rolled his eyes and cut him off. “As amusing as I find all of these… odd questions, Loki and I were just friends? In a sense. There were a couple months during my hero stint where Stark allowed Loki into the Tower on Thor’s behalf. He was trying to be nice? Failing more than anything, but whenever they paged me, we crossed paths. Loki just- understood things. I never unmasked for any of them and,” Peter paused to laugh, mirth visible in his eyes as he said, “He still said I had the eyes of a monster. I was so paranoid , but he looked… intrigued. I don’t think it was a threat. Thinking back on it, he probably just realized I was hiding more than a name from them.”
“And you think he would be interested,” Wade gathered. “In what we’re doing.”
Peter nodded sharply, canines visible in his smile like tiny daggers. “He kept approaching me, he addressed you when the others were content to ignore your presence. He had that entire showdown with his brother before everything went to hell. And all it took for the Son of Odin himself to retreat back home was his brother walking into a war zone to save him.” His teeth were more visible by the second, eyes shining in the starlight from the window. “Thor ceases to be a threat the moment his brother is in danger.”
[I have questions.]
{Does he ship it-}
[I don’t like that I have questions-]
{ Does he- }
Wade blurted out, “So you ship it,” before he could stop himself and Peter leaned to the side to stifle his sudden fit of laughter into the arm rest.
“Sure,” he gasped, a ridiculous smile lingering on his face despite his obvious attempts at suppressing it. “Sure, why not?”
Wade’s phone started ringing and Peter nonchalantly pulled it out of his pocket for him, missing the quick look of panic on Wade’s face because A) he had a ring in there and B) he knew that ringtone and his whole cover story had involved coming home from Weasel’s bar.
{HOW COULD YOU JUST LET HIM TOUCH THE POUCHES-}
[Thought you trusted him? Hmmm? Where’d that trust go? Oh, right! It’s completely unjustified-]
{He cares, he just doesn’t realize-}
[So someone shows you a little kindness and you assume they love you-]
{I KNOW HE DOESN’T LOVE US, OKAY!} Yellow screamed. {I know that. Stop it. Let me hope.}
White stopped. Wade tried to pretend he didn’t feel sad all of a sudden.
Peter looked at the name Greasy Lenses, and handed Wade the phone with a chuckle. “Do you name all your contacts based on their accessories?”
“Yes,” Wade replied instantly, latching onto the opportunity to avoid Yellow’s newfound pessimism. “Always. How else am I supposed to remember them, Webs? Names are hard. ”
Peter shook his head at him and Wade answered the phone carefully, hoping Weasel would pick up on the subtlety. “Hey, Sweatshop! Did I leave anything behind? I know things got a little out of hand back there, everyone wants a piece of the ‘Pool-”
Weasel was silent for all of three seconds and then he spoke slowly. “You should come back. We need to talk about your next job and you need to pay for the damages to my fucking bar, you burnt piece of-”
{I don’t like him} Yellow mumbled.
[Yes, because he’s a reasonable human being-]
Peter took the phone from Wade’s grip despite his protesting, “Hey!” and promptly ended the phone call, much to White’s offense.
“Webs,” Wade stated. “As cute as your whole jealousy kink is-”
Peter flicked Wade’s forehead and ignored his glaring, instead replying with, “I don’t have a jealousy kink. He doesn’t need to insult you to get your attention and I’m not sure why you put up with it-”
“That’s just how we get along, Petey-”
“Nevertheless,” Peter insisted, “He can expect you soon enough. The rest of that conversation was wholly unnecessary.”
Wade felt the edge of his mouth twitching upward despite himself, his small smile growing into a shit-eating grin as he leaned up and kissed the corner of the Death Angel’s jaw. “I’ll be back, Petey-pie.”
White sounded like he was a thousand years old when he muttered, [Yes. You’ll keep returning to him. That’s obvious enough.]
Within a few minutes, Wade was re-dressed in his Deadpool suit, Peter had passed out on the couch-- Wade stopped on his way out to tuck in his sweetheart with two cozy blankets--and Wade was out of the apartment once more. He had to stop for food because his body either demanded sleep or food, he couldn’t function forever without at least one of the options. After about a half hour, Wade was bursting in through the door of the bar to find the usual string of people passed out on the dingy floorboards at five in the morning. There, at the center of the mess, was Weasel. The dark circles under his eyes had darkened considerably and Wade almost felt concerned. Almost.
He plopped down into a seat at the bar, the one farthest to the left which meant that Weasel would have to walk over to talk to him, and he proceeded to pick at his teeth with a toothpick.
Weasel sighed and it sounded like the longest, most aggravated sigh in the world. Finally, he dragged himself over and Wade let out a loud snort. “Got any dreams?”
Yellow laughed.
[Must you both play the antagonist of every conversation we have-?]
“You need sleep to have dreams, so no, I don’t, Fuckwad.”
Wade beamed. “Oh! Nightmares keeping you up at night? Is it me? Am I the star of your deepest, darkest thoughts-”
“Sure,” Weasel spit out, rubbing over his eyelids with the thumb and fingers of one hand. When he looked at Wade again, it became evident that the whites of his eyes had gone red with exhaustion. “I fantasize about a way to kill you. Do you think that’s healthy?”
Wade crossed his legs and leaned forward on the counter, accidentally knocking over a bowl of peanuts as he rested his elbows in front of him and his chin over his hands. He glanced to the side, noting the fall peanut-bowl-the-third, and shrugged, making eye contact with Weasel as the glass crashed and shattered on the floor. He smiled. “Everyone fantasizes about killing me. Got a plan yet? An agenda? Thirty-two ways to torture an immortal?”
Weasel glared at him, not a single line of humor on his face and Wade pouted. Usually he at least got one laugh out of the guy.
“You carried Spiderman to an ambulance.”
Wade tensed. He looked at Weasel’s haggard appearance, the dirty glasses. Wade liked to tease him for his questionable hygiene, but Weasel often took great care of his glasses. They just happened to meet when Weasel had gone on a hacking spree weekend. During his little phases, Weasels hair became frazzled, the bags beneath his eyes grew more prominent, he would shave to keep himself from wasting valuable time scratching at a growing beard, but he would fail to take a shower which meant that there would be small, dried nicks of blood between regrowing patches of hair. He would forget to eat too, his frame growing slightly thinner, clothes musty from several days without changing or moving from his favored rolling chair. The most telling sign of a productive weekend was when Weasel’s glasses became smudged from the inside. He had a bad habit of rubbing at his eyes without actually taking his glasses off.
“I did,” Wade replied, tone cautiously devoid of any inflection.
[He knows.]
{There’s no way he has any proof-}
[It doesn’t matter. He knows and we fucked up. We. Fucked. Up.]
“You looked like you were terrified.”
“I’m never terrified-”
“Bullshit!” Weasel shouted, his fists slamming on the counter on either side of Wade’s elbows. He quickly reached inside his pocket, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he pulled out his phone and replayed a video save to his gallery.
On the screen, Deadpool was running wildly with a bleeding Spiderman in his arms, cradling him like he was the most precious and fragile thing in the world. Wade grimaced. He had really thought-
[I told you it was a lie. I told you- ]
{Shut the fuck up for a second.}
Weasel waited until the small clip ended with Deadpool forcing his way into an ambulance and then returning to the fight.
“You’re gonna tell me you weren’t scared for your-- ha. No! No, you were scared for his life. Except how the fuck would you know him? When did you have the time to fall for a hero-”
“Wease, you should stop-”
“Fuck you-”
[Don’t. He’s not done-]
{He’s about to be done in the next minute if he doesn’t mind his own fucking business.}
“Weasel, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wade tried, but Weasel was sleep deprived and furious.
“Fuck. You. Wilson,” he growled. “You know, I thought- we all thought you had gone insane. More batshit than ever. Except you weren’t just protecting Spiderman. No, no, you had to ruin any chance of anyone ever trusting you again by siding with the Avengers. Of all the fucking people! Even during the war , we formed our own faction, fought our own battles, did what we had to because we were paid. But you- you defended them free of charge! You became a fucking traitor-”
[I knew he would react like this. I fucking called it but you just don’t listen- ]
{Traitor. Excuse me, what, Bitch? }
There was a lot of screaming in his head, but Wade didn’t stop to think before he moved. In the next second, Weasel was bent back against his wall of liquor, a bright red mark across his cheek, teeth grinding together as he struggled to stay up. “I betrayed no one,” Wade hissed. He snatched at Weasel’s matted hair with one gloved hand and slammed the bruised side of his face into the counter in one swift movement. “All your mercs work for money and nothing else. Don’t talk to me about loyalty when we both know they would take me out if they ever figured out how to do it. You want to talk about the war and the battles I fought? The only reason your business survived is because I kept those fuckers alive. I led them. I killed the major threats. I was the first person in every war zone, the first one in every new territory, the first one to step into possible traps. Without me, every single one of them would be six feet underground.” Wade’s grip in Weasel’s hair became painfully tight, but he loosened his hold after a couple of tense seconds in silence and he laughed quietly. “Was that all, ‘ol buddy? We done here?”
Wade began to stand, dusting off the back of his thighs because the seats in this place weren’t exactly tidy, but Weasel grunted and Wade grunted back in annoyance.
“ What? ” he bit out.
Weasel played another clip for him, his arm shaking. It was probably a combination of the lack of sleep and the anger, but Wade pretended that Weasel shook because he was afraid of him. The idea made him smile. His smile died at the sight of the next clip and the realization that White was correct. Weasel knew.
The video ended and Wade glared at the counter.
Weasel got out a bottle of tequila and started drinking directly from it, evidently far too sober to handle this conversation.
“You called him the one. Your soulmate.”
[He- shouldn’t be. He’s not safe.]
{He is }, Yellow insisted.
Wade didn’t look up, his gaze focused on the counter and the dents in the surface. “So?”
Weasel gulped down another mouthful. “People didn’t know whether to think you fucked up by siding with the goodie-two-shoes, or if you did the right thing by fighting the guy that would gladly eviscerate us all.”
Wade barked a laugh and Weasel snorted along with him before the reality of the situation sunk in for them again, gravity weighing down any passing amusement.
“I know,” Weasel stated plainly, “How stupid of them to assume they factored into your decision at all.”
“Damn straight,” Wade agreed.
Weasel smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was tainted and unhinged and masquerading as normal. “I’ve got thousands of surveillance videos of your missions. I know how you fight, I know when you’re trying to kill a man and I know when you’re just toying with people. I know when you’re having fun. That,” he pointed at the screen, “Is not what you look like when you want to see someone bleed. And Parker? He lowered his hood, but the hoodie was still zipped high enough to cover any view of his neck. It’s kind of interesting, isn’t it, that they never found Spiderman’s body?”
{Kill him-}
[No! Listen-]
Wade glared up at Weasel. “And what if he is who you think he is? What the fuck, then, Weasel? Who are you going to tell that would believe you? What do you get out of it?” He took a gun out of his holster and levelled the weapon at Weasel’s head. “Answer real fucking carefully, ‘cause I’ve been a good boy for days and I’m a little trigger happy right now.”
Weasel, for once, didn’t flinch away from his gun. He merely stared back at Wade and took two files out from one of the drawers behind the counter, setting the navy blue folders in front of Wade neatly.
Wade didn’t lower his gun. “What the fuck is this?”
“I don’t stand to gain anything from telling people who he is. You’re right, no one would believe me. The Avengers would come after me for slandering their precious hero’s name, or they would try to get me to cooperate with them which would ruin everything I have. The mercs certainly wouldn’t stand by the man that outed the Death Angel. That’s setting themselves up for homicide via association. I’m not an idiot, you fuck.”
[See? Voice of reason here! Take two seconds to lapse out of your idiocy and talk to a human being that at least has their shit somewhat together-]
{Yes, of course. Let’s listen to the guy who looked like a drowned rat and smells like one. That seems wise- }
Wade kept his arm steady, the barrel of the gun pressing against Weasel’s forehead. “I didn’t ask you what you were going to do. I asked you what the fuck these are.”
Weasel laughed. He laughed and he laughed and he broke down crying, wiping exhausted tears from his scruffy face and he looked up at Wade. Wade lowered the gun in confusion and finally Weasel replied, “Maybe you’ll actually kill me this time. I don’t know. Fuck it-- I’m not going to tell you what to do, Wade. I’m tired. All I can do is show you what I know and hope you make the right choice. Hell, I hope you make the right choice.”
{Don’t read them-}
[Look at them. He’s never steered us wrong-]
{NO-}
Wade looked down at the files, two names staring back at him from the edge of the folders. The first was Harry Osborn. It sounded familiar, but why did it-
Peter Parker’s first known victim. Norman Osborn. Wade didn’t touch the file, looking up at Weasel in confusion.
“I’m going to bed,” Weasel said, stumbling to the side and catching himself on the edge of the counter. “Kill me in my sleep if you need to, I don’t care anymore.”
Wade didn’t stop him, the boxes didn’t even ask him to, and Weasel stumbled up the stairs to his apartment.
Harry Osborn.
The man tilted his head to the side in what seemed to be light contemplation, his eyes flickering between the whites of Deadpool’s mask, analyzing him in silence, and finally he asked, in such a quiet volume that Deadpool could barely make out the words, “Did Harry send you to end me?”
He touched the edge of the file, his curiosity warring with his doubt. Peter would tell him. Peter would tell him if he asked. Except Peter never mentioned a single name from his past that wasn’t already a public name. He spoke of the nameless man who killed his uncle, he talked about Bucky and made concise statements about his time in a S.H.I.E.L.D. compound, but he never talked about his family, friendships beyond those of his hero persona. He kept all of his life outside of the murders and the heroism to himself and Wade-- Wade had answers. They were right in front of him. All he had to do was look.
{Please, Please don’t-}
[What if he’s worse than what you think he is?]
Wade glanced to the side at the half empty bottle of tequila Weasel left behind and he took a sip. A sip became two, two became three, three became the rest of its contents.
He wasn’t drunk, he was barely even buzzed and he knew it wouldn’t last longer than a few minutes but the voices were further away and Wade… he reached out to look at Harry Osborn’s file.
Day 1
Patient S, Harry Osborn.
He was admitted a few weeks ago. He still appears to have self-harming tendencies. Attempts at conversation were not received well. He opens up when asked about his paternal figure, but refuses to speak on any other subject. The patient grows violent when any mention of the name Peter is made. One of the nurses in the isolation ward is named Peter and he had to switch shifts for the time being. Osborn has attacked him multiple times. He is being placed on medication. Antidepressants, mainly. His volatile behavior has caused many of the senior staff to consider light sedatives, but the patient cannot improve if he is never conscious enough to try.
Day 7
Patient S, Harry Osborn.
Osborn came to my office on his own today, without the need of an escort. The boy asked me if the ‘false-Peter’ can be removed from his ward. He seems to believe that his company’s donations change his status here. They do not. I did inform him, however, that our nurse has managed to find better employment elsewhere and this seemed to relax him significantly. He was in a better mood today. He spoke about the ‘real-Peter.’ The person he describes seems to fall in line with what we know so far. Osborn claims that after the death of his father, Parker paid him several home visits-- helping him keep the house clean, looking after him, getting him to enjoy movies and to consider returning to school. For all intents and purposes, he describes Parker as the ideal friend. He claims Peter to be a liar. He repeated the phrase, “He was lying, I know it,” several times during the session but failed to elaborate what Parker was lying about. Further inquiries will be made.
Day 15
Patient S, Harry Osborn.
The patient is experiencing hallucinations. Further inquiries into his relationship with the subject have been fruitless. He ran into the session, frantic. He claims that Peter Parker has been in his room, that the boy somehow scaled a thirty foot building, removed the bars over his window, and silenced him. The bars on his window are still intact. Peter Parker had not had a mutation. What he is describing is impossible, but he insists on it. He asked to be moved and-- it seems his money does grant him a higher status than the other patients. He’s been moved to the West Hall, where the windows are too small for anyone to fit through. We’ve sent notice to his guardians of his lack of improvement and are waiting for their word on how we should proceed. I don’t think he has any useful information, but I won’t falter.
Day 23
Patient S, Harry Osborn.
It has been over three weeks since the patient was admitted. He claims that Peter Parker crawled into the room through his heating vent. He broke down when I asked how that made him feel. Nothing productive happened during this session.
Day 25
Patient S, Harry Osborn.
Today, Osborn refused to take any of his medication. When forced, he bit a nurses hand until she bled. He was sedated and--subsequently-- we had no session. He is deteriorating and the window of opportunity is closing. I fear we may have to start from square one.
Day 28
Patient S, Harry Osborn.
The boy has stopped eating. He has been sedated multiple times within the past three days. He told me he doesn’t know which Peter is real and which Peter is fake anymore. He says that Peter is always there, always in the corner of the room. He said the ‘clean’ Peter touched his hair and apologized to him, but that it wasn’t a real apology. His exact words were, “I’m sorry that I thought of your safety as my first priority. I didn’t know it would ruin you.” The hallucinations are interesting, growing elaborate, but they bear no relevance to our interests. In fact, Osborn has started to claim that Peter’s hands look too clean. He specifically mutters, “They shouldn’t look that clean,” to himself. I, and the rest of the staff, are unsure of what to do. They’re setting him up with an IV for nutrients now that he refuses all food. When I asked him why he’s chosen to fast, he smiled at me for the first time and explained that we couldn’t force him to live if he didn’t want to. Osborns always get what they want. He is… peculiar. I don’t see much reason for he and Peter to have associated with one another, beyond the traumatic events of their childhood.
Day 37
Patient S, Harry Osborn.
The boy is being removed from the facility. His company guardians have decided to move him to a private mental health establishment. They refuse to disclose the location of said facility and they, unfortunately, have a court order. However, all is not lost. The patient told me I should tell Gwen. I am unsure as to what he meant for me to tell this person. Upon further inspection, their school only has one student in their grade level by the name of Gwen. Gwen Stacy-- a girl who shares several advanced classes with Parker. I will send further reports once I have made contact.
Wade stared at the file for a long time.
{It’s bullshit. They said he was hallucinating!}
[They hadn’t arrested him yet. They didn’t know- they still don’t know he has powers. Of course they would assume they were hallucinations. And then he was drugged up and consistently told that the person he was seeing wasn’t real, combined with depression, suicide attempts, a recent death in the family. He lost his mind.]
{It’s a lie }, Yellow bit out.
Wade stared at the apology. Priorities. It sounded like something Peter would say, but it was obviously not as harsh as the file made it seem. Peter had killed Norman, presumably for his friend’s safety, and his friend had lost his mind when Peter tried to apologize for being a good friend. Oops? Wade didn’t really understand. A friend of his had killed his father and, sure, Wade had been angry at the time that the opportunity was swept away from him, but he still expressed a little fucking gratitude.
What exactly did Weasel think Wade would take away from this? How unappreciated his boyfriend was? Because that’s all that Wade was getting.
He was tempted to swipe a bottle of vodka and set the files on fire. Except his nerves were on edge and who the hell was Gwen Stacy?
[Her name wasn’t listed on Peter’s victim list.]
{But- it seems familiar?}
[Yeah, but why would we recognize the name of a teenage girl? He hasn’t exactly mentioned anyone-]
Wade glared down at the unopened file for several minutes. He could burn it. Weasel could suck a cock. He would burn it.
{Do it! Burn it! Walk away, Petey will tell us all we need to know-}
[Liar.]
He didn’t burn it.
A sense of dread swept over him as he opened the folder and saw an article with the title, Spiderman Kills Late Chief of Police’s Daughter. Right. Back when Spiderman was still a new name, the papers ripped into him for failing to save a girl who was allegedly kidnapped by the Green Goblin. Wade said allegedly, because he’d never come across any footage of the incident, there were no pictures of the scene beyond a body that was covered by a sheet in the road, and the one image that held a crouching Spiderman was printed by the Daily Bugle and looked suspiciously like a photograph of the hero taken a month or so earlier.
He read the article a second time anyway, every detail about the webbing catching her at the last moment before the impact-- how that failed spectacularly and she was dead before anyone else arrive on the scene. It went on about how terrible it was for the force to relive the death of their Chief in the loss of his daughter. It was an elegant story. Truly.
[But the file wouldn’t have so many papers stuffed in it if the events could be wrapped up so easily.]
{Stop. Petey’s never going to forgive us for this! You’re throwing everything away over-}
[If his past is so private that he’s willing to get rid of us for it, maybe we’ve got a right to know! You don’t buy a car without knowing the mileage on it-]
{HE’S NOT A FUCKING CAR, THOUGH, IS HE?} Yellow was almost in tears, his frustration palpable enough to give Wade a headache, but he had to know. No, Peter wasn’t a car, but Wade wanted to keep him safe and for that-- he needed to know what they would use against him. Convincing himself that he was doing this for the right reasons, Wade soldiered on.
There were pages upon pages of reports of Gwen’s mental health and her relationship with Peter. She talked about him like he was everything. She admitted that at first it had been an ill-advised crush on someone that she wanted to protect, but she went on to describe the way they met- just two awkward teenagers paired for a project in a biology course, how they became close after she stood between him and Flash-
Flash Thompson.
Wade felt… conflicted. On the one hand, he was incredibly pleased to realize that he’d killed one of Peter’s abusers already. On the other hand, the piece of shit hadn’t suffered enough.
[It… it’s a bit suspicious that his teenage bully would end up in the same isolation ward as he did.]
{ This isn’t something we can talk about though, is it!? } Yellow screamed, {We can’t ask about it! He’s going to fucking know!}
Wade had to stop reading to calm himself. The boxes were pulling him in opposite directions and Yellow was right, but Wade had gone too far in to stop.
When he forged ahead, he realized that Gwen Stacy was Peter’s Vanessa Carlysle. No, she wasn’t perfect for him and if she was privy to all of his flaws, she would have left, just like Vanessa had. But Gwen was the kind of person that outshone everyone in her vicinity and made you feel warm without trying. The things she said, the way she expressed herself- it was the way those special people did, the ones everyone had. They came into your life and smiled and the world felt safe again, they reassured you and for a simple moment your burdens ceased to exist. She was Peter’s Vanessa, and she was gone. There were several photos of her in the reports. Wade wasn’t blind. These were S.H.I.E.L.D. field reports and Peter said they’d been following him from birth. Wade had a memory then. It was of the first compound Peter and he ended together. Peter had mentioned her then- he knew. He knew they had watched her.
Wade stared at the picture of her for longer than he was comfortable with. She was beautiful- blue eyes, long, blonde hair. She had this refined look about her, as if she had the world in the palm of her hand and her smile, well, it was just as Wade had pictured it. It made the world feel safe again. Except she wasn’t around to keep that feeling alive and that sensation died with the turn of a page.
The next pages consisted of two autopsy reports, one that led the reader to believe Gwen Stacy died in a tragic fall- an incident so sensationalized it couldn’t possibly be denied as the truth. The other report went into greater detail. A horrific amount of detail that made Wade regret every choice he’d made since leaving Peter back in his apartment.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had stolen the real body, planted a fake, and gone through all of the trouble of making up a story to incriminate Spiderman in the hopes of keeping Peter Parker’s story out of the limelight. They were imbeciles. Peter, in the eyes of the general public, was a prolific serial killer. The Death Angel had been famous for the murders long before S.H.I.E.L.D. realized what he’d done, feared and revered by the people of New York in equal measure. The Death Angel was a threat and a symbol of hope all at once and the name behind the legend was bound to be famous regardless of the involvement of a cop’s daughter.
Their ignorance wasn’t what made Wade’s blood freeze in his veins.
It was the autopsy report. The real one.
{Please stop, I’m begging you- we don’t need to know- }
Wade read it twice. Three times. Seven. He read it over and over again until the truth of the events sunk into his very bones and ate away at everything he believed about Peter Parker.
Cause of death: singular laceration to the thoracic cavity, extraction of the cardiac muscle.
[For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I was right about him.]
Wade’s eyes traced over the cause of death almost frantically, willing it to say something that wasn’t there, to offer an explanation that didn’t exist.
He had
killed her in her sleep.