Deadpool's apartment (six months after his date with Heather)

Heather looked around his messy apartment. She was standing in the doorway, "This is where you live?" she asked, more surprised than disgusted.

{She doesn't seem disgusted.}

[Yeah. Usually girls would have left by now after a taking a peek at this dump.]

Deadpool turned around, surprised to see her. "Heather! What cha doing here? How did you find out where I lived? I never told you." He said from his couch.

Heather walked over to his sofa, "Well, for starters, you left this at my house," she reached in her handbag and, while accidentally dropping a tube of lip stick from her purse, pulled out a package labeled, "To Deadpool, thank you for solving my little problem." "I assume it's from your job."

"Oh, thank you!" He grabbed the box from her hands. "Here, have a seat." He pated the seat next to him on the couch. She sat next to him.

"And to answer your second question is, you're not the only one who can find out where people live." Heather said as she raised an eyebrow.

"Wait. You know?"

"Yep."

"Who told you that I followed you to your house that first time we met?"

"You did. Just now."

"Oh." Deadpool slumped in his seat. Heather laughed.

[And she still went out with us. Even though she knew we were stalkers.]

{Now that's true love!]

She rubbed her hand up and down his shoulder and arm in comfort. "Don't worry about it." She stood up. "I have to get to work."

"Where do you work?"

{At a strip club!}

[No! She's tough, hot, and kind. She has to be a bar tender.]

"My job is nowhere as interesting as yours. I'm an assistant."

"To what company."

"Diana's Modeling Agency. I'm Diana's personal assistant."

{Ohh! Models!}

"Pttf! Oh please. Stop joking. You're a model, aren't cha?"

"No. I'm not. I could never be a model."

"What?! Who says so?"

Heather shrugged, "I just don't think I'm model material. I mean, I eat fast food, like, twice a week. Models only eat like twice a year."

"Hey, if you ever wanted to do something exciting, remember you can always come to me!"

[You mean taking her on assassinations?]

"Okay, two things."

"All right," she chuckled, "I'll remember that. See ya."

"Bye." Heather walked out the door.

Deadpool woke up on the sofa. "Man that was a good dream!"

{Yeah! That taco lady was super nice!}

"Do you think Heather's done with work?"

{Probably!}

[Maybe we should call first. Assistants are always busy.]

"Fine!" Deadpool snatched his phone off the kook and dialed Heather's number. Ring. Ring. Ring.

"The number you've called has been disconnected…." The operator said.

{Oh no!}

[Something's wrong!]

Deadpool bolted out the door and down the stairs.

{I wonder what's wrong.}

[Let's not assume something is wrong. Maybe she just changed her number and forgot to tell us.]

{Yeah…}

Deadpool ran to a parked car across the street and broke the glass with his gun. "I hope who ever owns this car doesn't mind that I borrow it." He hotwired the car and sped up the street.

[Do you need to ask for directions?]

"Oh no! I know where it is." He made a hard right.

[Oh! Looks like you do know where you're going.]

He parked on the car as soon as he reached the front of the modeling agency. DP sprinted inside and to the front desk. "Excuse me, lady, can you tell me where I can find Heather?"

"Who?" The lady asked.

"Heather, Diana's personal assistant."

"I have no idea who you're talking about."

He sighed, frustrated, "Where's Diana?"

"She's in a conference. If you wanna see her, you'll have to make an appointment." DP didn't even let her finish her sentence before making his way to the elevators.

[The sign said that the conference room was on the fifth floor, room 509.]

Once he reached the right floor, he raced through the hallways looking for room 509. "Found it!" He looked through the small window one the door and scanned the room for Heather.

{I don't see her.}

[Maybe Diana sent her off to do something else.]

"Well, there's only one way to find out."

[No way! That idea is horrible! We can't just go in guns ablazing. We need to have a strategic plan.]

"Okay, fine! What's the plan?"

{Ooh! Ooh! I've got it! Okay, here it is! *wisper, wisper, wisper*}

"That just might work!" Deadpool tipped-toed to the adjacent wall and pulled the fire alarm. Seconds later, the hall was full of people making a break for the stairs. Deadpool snatched Diana out of the crowd and back into the conference room. He held onto her arms with a tight grip. She screamed.

"Who are you?" She asked, terrified.

"Doesn't matter. Where's Heather? Did she make it here to work today?"

"W-who are you talking about? I don't know anyone named Heather!"

"What do you mean? She's you're f*cking personal assistant!"

"I don't have an assistant named Heather!"

"Then who's your personal assistant?"

"His name is Scooter!" Wade let go of her arms.

"Really? You have got to be f*cking kidding me!"

{Maybe she's at her house!}

[Wouldn't hurt to check.]

{Too the elevator!}

"The elevator's too slow." Deadpool jumped out of the window.

[That was totally smart of you…]

"Hay! No sarcasm from the peanut gallery!"

Deadpool skid into a halt outside Heather's apartment complex, nearly running into a fire hydrant. He jumped out of the car and made his way to the door. He ran up the stairs three by three, stopped Heather's door and rapped on it. "Heather! Answer the door! It's me, Dead-"A sweaty fat bald man opened the door.

"What do ya want?" He ruddy asked.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Deadpool picked up the man by his old shirt.

[You sure you got the right address?]

{Yeah, this is it.}

"W-what do ya mean?! I live here!"

Deadpool pulled out his pistol. "You know what? I hate liars!" He pointed the gun at his head, "Where's the sexy woman with the Australian accent that lives here!"

The fat guy put his hands in the air, "H-hey, man, I've haven't seen a sexy woman in real life since my girlfriend left me ten years ago!"

[I think he's telling the truth.]

{But if he is, then where's Heather?}

DP dropped the man on the floor and stormed out of the complex, hopped in his stolen car, and drove down the street. He searched all the places where he's seen Heather and even some places he hasn't seen her but would imagine her being at. No luck. "Where could she be?"

{*Gasp* How about Lilly's house!}

"Good idea!" Deadpool made a hard U turn and floored the gas. "I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier!"

*** Lilly's house…

Wade rang Lilly's doorbell ten times. "I'M COMIN'!" She yelled from inside the house. Lilly opened the door. "What do ya want?"

"Lilly!" Deadpool gave her a hug.

"What the-? Who the hell are you?! How do you know my name?" Deadpool let go of her.

"You mean you don't remember me?"

"Should I?"

"Deadpool. Heather's boyfriend."

"Who's Heather?" Those words echoed through Deadpool's head. "Are you ok? You look a bit dizzy."

He nodded his head. "Yeah… I'm fine….. I'm just…. Going to go home…" And with that, he walked away and drove home. The words "Who's Heather?" still echoing through his mind.

Deadpool slammed close the door to his residence.

{I can't believe we didn't find her….}

[I can't believe Lilly didn't know who she was.]

{She was the perfect dream girl.}

[Maybe that's all she was: a dream.]

Deadpool looked down at the floor, his heart, saddened. Suddenly, something caught his eye. He bent over and picked up a tube of lip stick. "Where did this come from?"

{Wait! That's Heather's! She dropped it here!}

[Then how come we can't find her anywhere?! Even her best friend said she doesn't know who we're talking about.]

{Maybe she lied.}

"But why would she lie to us? None of this is making any sense!" Deadpool's phone rang, "Who let the dogs out? Woof, woof, woof, woof! Who let the dogs out?" He picked up his cell. "Hello? Yeah? When? Now?! How about next Thursday? No? How much? Ok, fine. I'll do it." He hung up the phone.

[Maybe this'll give us a break to sort this out.]

{Yeah! Shooting people in the head always makes us feel better!}

*** Two years later…

Deadpool sat at a booth by the window of his favorite Mexican restaurant, one that actually sold chimichangas. The place was surprisingly packed with people. "I still can stop thinking about her. Was she actually just a dream? Part of a figment of my imagination? It all seemed too real…" He thought to himself.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you going to order anything?" The waitress asked.

"Oh, I'll just have the usual."

"Okay." She walked away. Deadpool looked out the window. It was gloomy and raining. People were walking quickly up and down the street caring umbrellas, trying to find cover from the rain. A woman in a blue rain coat with a yellow umbrella walked in the restaurant. She made her way to the counter, squeezing her way through the crowd. Once she made it to the counter, she asked if her order was ready. The waitress nodded and handed her a brown paper bag. The woman handed her the money and tried to go out the door but a bunch of people where blocking it. In fact, like a wave, the crowd was moving her away from the door. She stumbled into the seat across from Deadpool. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

[That voice…]

"Don't worry about it. It's fine." He said, still looking out the window.

"You expecting someone?"

{…. It sounds….}

"…. No."

"Are you all right?"

"…."

[Familiar…..]

Deadpool looked at the woman. A bunch of memories rushed back through his head. All of him and Heather. His eyes focused on the necklace she was wearing. It was a golden heart shaped locket with tiny diamonds spelling out a capitol H. The group that was blocking the door left. She stood up, "Well, it was nice talking to you!" She squeezed her way back to the door and left.

{Heather!}

Deadpool chased after her.

[Are you sure that was her?]

{Of course it was! No one can forget that accent! Plus, she was wearing the necklace we bought her!}

"Wait!" he called but his voice was drown out by the restaurant chatter. He flung open the door and sprinted outside. He saw a woman with her yellow umbrella and grabbed the lady's shoulder. She turned around. It wasn't her.

{Maybe it wasn't her….}

"Dammit, hallucinations!" Deadpool mumbled to himself. Instead of going back inside, he decided to walk home.

[It was all in our head.]

Rose: This is the end-

Deadpool: Why did you do that!?

Rose: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Hold on! Before you get all mad, hear me out. I choose to end it here because I think it's interesting. And if people want more, I'll be happy to make a second part to answer the question I know everybody will probably be asking. And this time, updating on a regular schedule.

Deadpool: *Cries*

Rose: Deadpool, don't cry. I said I would make another one.

Deadpool: You better! I want Heather back!

Rose: Ok! And thank you guys for your encouraging words! It really inspired me to finish this no matter how tried or sick I was.