Disclaimer: these characters and the world belong to Marvel. (except my OC)
Thanks So Much to everyone who Reviewed, Followed, and Favorited this.
For anyone wondering where all the actual Avengers are, they are coming! Our girl just has to find them first.
Chapter Two:
"This is what you need to know," the Masked Man said, unlocking the glass door before hurling the key down the hallway carelessly. He stepped into the room and took her hand, causing her to flinch before realizing that she was only touching the fabric of his suite, and not his skin. She let him take her hand into his gloved one and pull her out of the empty square room. She thinks she used to like holding hands, before.
She adds it to her list. Friends. Running. Helping. Holding Hands.
The Masked Man started to jog, pulling her along with him down the hallway.
"One: you are stuck in here unless you come with me," He said, starting on his list. "Two: you can call me Deadpool."
They reached the stairs, taking them in twos.
"And three: I am breaking you out of here," he continued. "And then I am going to ask you for one hell of a Thank You."
They continued up the stairs and then he pulled her into a new hallway. She stopped suddenly, her hand dropping out of his. The hallway was red with blood. To her immediate side there is a body with a hole through the head that she wasn't sure came from a gun or a sword, but blood was still oozing its way down the bridge of the body's nose and pooling in their lap. The hallway was full of bodies scattered around the floor. Some wearing bloody white lab aprons, others in sweatpants. She realized that some of these people might not have even worked here, but instead might have been brought here because someone had hoped she would heal them.
She could feel it on her skin, and that was how she knew these bodies were very new. It was the same feeling she had when she had met Jaime, a tightness on her skin, as if her body could tell that someone else in the room needed healing. Now, the feeling was stronger, doubled because of the amount of bodies in the hallway. She closed her eyes and tried to breath.
She could hear The Masked Man, Deadpool, yelling and then muttering at her. She thinks he tells her to move, and then started cussing. But the only thing she can concentrate on is the tightness around her skin and trying to breathe through the uncomfortable sensation.
Still cursing, she can hear Deadpool jog back over to her and take her hand again. Keeping her eyes closed, she let him lead her down the hallway. Slowly, the tightness around her skin began to fade.
"You can open your eyes," Deadpool said. "No more bodies."
She does, and lets him lead her up another flight of stairs as fast as possible. He had stopped his continuous curse words, and she has a feeling that he might actually feel bad about her reaction to the hallway. She doesn't hold his hand in return.
He led her through a maze. Hallway after hallway, staircase after staircase, and always going up. Dr. Cullen had said they were underground. Because of how fast they are running, she thinks someone must be chasing them, but she doesn't see another soul.
And then Deadpool swings open a door and there is light.
Her arm goes up to block the sun from hitting her eyes, willing them to adjust faster. There is a breeze that touches her skin, and she instantly feels better.
Friends. Running. Helping. Holding Hands. Wind.
They are still running, and he still has a grip around her hand. This cement is rough under her bare feet. There is a sudden loud blaring nose coming from behind her, an alarm. Deadpool started cussing again, and then he yelled "Jump!" and without really thinking, she does.
The fall is long enough that she realizes she should have touched the ground by now. Wind whipping around her, her stomach lurching, she gasped silently into the nothingness around her.
And then she hits water.
She inhales water, but before she can really realize what is happening, there is an arm around her waist and she coughs up water and breathes air. The water was loud, and she could barely hear Deadpool as he yelled "Hold onto this."
Both arms around a long log, she tried to breath and take in where she was. The fast flowing river was sweeping them away from a cluster of grey buildings. Deadpool, one arm also around the log, shoots his gun at a group of men running after them, and then the river takes them around a bend and out of sight.
X-X-X
Soaking wet, holding Deadpool's wet gloved hand, she lets him lead her into the back of what she thinks is a taxi. Based on the weak sun and the light cold breeze, it is, she suspects, April after all.
"Hello!" said the cheery driver, as Deadpool started to shove his way into the passenger seat. With shacking hands, she buckled herself in the seat behind him.
The cab driver is Indian, and extremely cheerful and chatty. The two men in front start talking about a woman the cab driver loves who needs to go to a funeral for an ex-lover. Not once does the cab driver ask for an explanation on why they are wet and panting.
"So what is it?" she asked, interrupting them just as they began to talk about whether it would be too awkward for the cab driver to go to this funeral as the woman's date.
"She speaks!" Deadpool exclaimed, and turned to mock whisper at the cab driver. "You know we jump off of a building and still she didn't make a peep."
"This 'Thank You' you want for killing all of those people," she said, heat rising in her voice. "What is it?"
The chatty cab driver suddenly had nothing to say, and stared straight out in front at the traffic. Deadpool slowly turned around to look at her, masked face squinting at her.
"Excuse me Princess?" Deadpool said.
"That's not my name," she said. "Don't call me that."
"You don't have a name," he replied. "I saw your file. I know more about you than you know about you."
She blinked, letting the room fill with silence for a moment. "How did you even know I was down there? I only ever saw three people."
She could tell he knew what she was really asking.
"I know a kid who works for those guys, or a branch of those guys. No one really likes to explain things when it comes to secrete military branches." Deadpool said. "This kid was walking around the main building and overheard some lady talking about you, and told me in passing, and I did my research. You believe me now?"
The cab driver started to drum his thumbs on the steering wheel, humming to himself.
"So those people you killed weren't even bad guys?" she asked.
"There is no such thing as 'good guys' and 'bad guys' Princess," Deadpool said, digging a hoodie from under his seat and putting it on over his red suit. "There are just douchebags with agendas, and other douchebags with agendas. And no one, not even your ungrateful little ass, should be locked up underground and experimented on."
She tucked her legs up underneath of herself. Outside, dark clouds were starting to gather on the horizon, blocking just enough sunlight that the city no longer seemed shiny, just tall and active. Countless taxi cabs shifted in the crowed lanes, making theirs invisible to anyone looking for them. Bikers pedaled between the slow moving vehicles.
"Is that what happened to you?" she asked.
"This is it," Deadpool said, pointing to one of the buildings to the cab driver.
"No money today Mr. Deadpool?" The driver asked.
"High-five?"
The two high-fived enthusiastically, and Deadpool swung himself out of his door. Hands still shacking, she unblocked her seat belt.
"Thank you for the ride," she said, high-fiving the driver uncertainly.
Outside, she was surprised at how many people didn't care about Deadpool's suit, as if they didn't see it once he pulled the hoodie over his mask. He led her down some steps off the sidewalk and into a pub, holding the door open for her and said "Princess" with a bow when she went through.
"Wade!"
The pub was empty except for the man behind the bar, who had half his hair pulled back from a headband. She followed Deadpool towards the bar, hesitantly taking a seat by him and leaned into the bar on her elbows.
"Princess, met Weasel," Deadpool said. "Weasel, this is Princess."
The bartender, Weasel, gave her an awkward grin. She shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise, Sweetheart," Weasel said, before letting go of her hand and turning towards Deadpool. "Where's Vanessa?"
The door to the pub swung open and a women hustled inside, locking the door behind her. "Right here!" The woman said, and came to join them at the bar. Vanessa smacked a large bag onto the counter before kissing Deadpool's masked check. Vanessa was pretty, with a sharp jaw and sharper cheekbones and a pixie cut.
"For you," Vanessa said, sliding the bag passed Deadpool on the bar at her. Carefully she opened the bag. Inside was a mound of clothing.
"Let's go get you cleaned up." Vanessa added, and hopped off of her stool to take her hand and lead her into the bathroom.
The bathroom was only made for one person, and it stunk. She tried not to look at the toilet or the sink. Her bare feet stuck to the tiled floor.
"You can take anything you like," Vanessa said, pulling things out of the large bag, "Although I would dress in layers. And here is a pair of shoes, hopefully they are big enough." Vanessa glanced her over. "Or small enough."
With another smile Vanessa left the bathroom. Once alone, she hesitated only a moment before dressing out of her wet clothes and putting on the dry layers instead. The tennis shoes were two sizes too big, so she placed three extra layers of socks on before tying the shoes onto her feet. Then she turned to the sink and splashed her face with water. When she looked up into the mirror, she was surprised to see the freckles that ran across her cheeks and nose. And noted the dark brown eyes and eyebrows, before fixing her ponytail. The bright white color of her hair seemed oddly out of place.
When she came out of the bathroom, Deadpool had taken off his mask and weapons and had placed everything on the bar countertop. The three were huddled together. She caught a look at the side of Deadpool's face, and turned away. His skin had looked dead. She didn't want to go back over to them until she knew she would be able to really look at him without flinching. She looked around the pub and noted a nearby piano. She sat at it, and although half of the keys were missing, she rested her fingers on the keys and started to play. She smiled. She hadn't known she knew how to play the piano, and wondered if it was muscle memory.
When she realized that the other three were now silent, she stopped playing and glanced at them. She made herself keep Deadpool's gaze without flinching. The longer she looked at it, the more she realized that it wasn't that bad. His eyes, at least, were still completely normal.
Heat rose to her cheeks, she left the piano and joined them, handing Vanessa her bag.
"You're a regular Georgiana," Vanessa said.
"Who?" Weasel asked.
"Georgiana," Vanessa repeated. "You know, Darcy's talented little sister from Pride and Prejudice?"
"If you think any of us have read that sissy book you are wrong." Deadpool said.
Vanessa shrugged. "I never read it, doesn't mean I am stupid enough not to know the reference."
Deadpool ignored Vanessa, instead turning towards her and said. "We aren't going to make you do anything you don't want to, but I could really use that Thank You."
She shifted in her seat and tucked her legs underneath of herself again, glancing at Weasel and Vanessa, who were staring at her.
"And," Deadpool went on. "If you want, I know a large metal guy and an emo teenager who would be able to take you to a safe house, which has a man in a wheel chair who might be able to help you."
She nodded. "What's the Thank You?"
Deadpool gave her a half smile, looking guilty. "Healing me."
"Oh."
She caught a look at Vanessa's face, and she seemed even more eager Deadpool. "Okay," she heard herself say, "I mean, I can try. But we are going to need to move to a booth, I might fall down."
The booth they choose was by the front door, and it felt broken when she sat on the green seat. Weasel and Vanessa hovered a table over, as if wanting to be close but trying not to be in the way.
"It's not a brain injury, is it?" She asked.
Deadpool shook his head. "Mutation and cancer."
She nodded, and tried to ignore her audience as she closed her eyes and placed both of her hands on Deadpool's checks.
It took her a moment to find it. Deadpool's body no longer thought that it was injured, but as she kept her hands on his checks, slowly the sensation of something pressing onto her skin started to appear, and then grow. A warm heat started to come from the where her hands were making contact with his skin.
It was a long process, and the feeling slowly grew from a small ache to a pain that rippled from her skin to settle down in the center of her body. The pain spiked, her lungs burned, and then blackout.
X-X-X
When she woke up, she was laying on the green booth with an old, moldy smelling coat on top of her like a blanket. She groaned, lifted her face up and rubbed her cheek. The skin felt scared under her hand.
"Careful," someone said. "You might not want to look in the mirror for a couple more hours."
For the first time she could remember, her stomach growled. "A couple of hours?"
She looked up to see a man standing over her, a glass of water in his hands. She blinked. It was Deadpool, she hadn't recognized him. Not only was the red suit missing, his skin had a healthy glow and looked scar-less.
He nodded, handing her the water. "Yeah, you've been out for a good thirty hours. We didn't want to move you, so we told everyone who came into the bar last night not to bother you, and you slept through all of the noise and everything."
She reached out to take the glass of water and saw her hand. The skin was scared and dry looking. She drank the enter glass, and her stomach growled again. Deadpool left to go get food, and as she waited she watched her hands. The skin slowly becoming less and less dry looking, until only the scars remained. Deadpool – Wade, he told her to call him – waited until she had finished eating the almost cold cheese burger before he said, "When Spidey told me he overheard one of the lab workers talking about you, he didn't believe it, and I didn't believe it, but you are one wonder worker. I have never felt this healthy."
She felt somewhere between wanting to throw up and wanting another cheese burger, but instead she smiled and said, "Good."
"I'll go call up that metal man and angry teenager I was telling you again, get you out of this place," Wade said.
She watched him walk away towards the empty bar before folding up the coat and placing it on the table of the booth. Her hands were back to their normal self again. Pale and smooth. If she could heal a mutation and cancer within someone else's body and her own in thirty hours, those people who had kept her underground where never going to stop looking for her. Anyone she was with was going to be in danger of those people coming after them on the way to get to her. And she was never going back into the square empty room again.
Wade turned his back to her as he spoke on the phone, and she took the moment to unlock the front door and slip outside. There was a crowd of people walking in the streets. Picking up a discarded baseball bap from the ground, she placed it on her head and tucked her hair under her new jacket in hopes of hiding the white color. She tried to disappear in the crowd.
She hadn't completely self-healed from the cancer. She still felt the ache in her lungs, and after about four hours of walking in whichever way most people were heading, she had to duck into an ally to cough until she threw up.
"You okay there?" a man asked.
She wiped her mouth and tried to say yes before she doubled over and threw up again. The stranger came over to her and patted her back.
"Easy does it," the stranger said. She moved to stand upright, and then something collided with the back of her head and she hit the ground. Over the throbbing of her head, she heard the stranger speak to someone on the phone.
"Yeah, I got her, let's bring her in before they notice and contact one of their Avengers."
