Danny was going to strangle Stark. No, seriously, he was going to strangle the man. It had taken a few days for Danny to start feeling present again, but the three meals a day and steady access to water had helped immensely. The only downside to his new prison was the white walls and the infuriating man that seemed to spend half the day trying to get Danny to talk to him. Well, communicate. After the whole 'tablet' incident Stark had handed Danny a notebook and a pen, and then started asking stupid questions.

Questions like "Who are your parents, buddy?" or "do you know where you live?" and "Is there anyone you want us to contact for you, pal?" as well as the ever infuriating "What's your name, kiddo?" Danny had written 'fuck you' in the journal and thrown it at Starks head, but the questions hadn't stopped. They continued, day after day, and the only reason Danny hadn't tried to strangle the man yet is that he always brought food with him. Good food, too.

Today, though, Danny had just thrown the journal at the mans head after another "Can you tell me your parent's names?" and Stark hadn't given it back yet. Which annoyed Danny more, somehow. Not that he needed it. He figured out a couple days ago that his voice was back, but he still hadn't said a thing to Stark.

"Look, buddy," Stark said after a long moment of staring at the journal while Danny glared at him "I'm just trying to help. I'm sure you've seen me on the news, you know I'm a hero." Danny raised an eyebrow at the word hero. "But I can't help you if you don't let me. Just, give me something, kid." and then he held the journal out to Danny again.

Danny took it tentatively, studying the mans face as he did so. It was a little hard to read, but Danny thought he might have looked a little defeated, like this was his last ditch effort, and he had no more to give. Suddenly, Danny felt a little bad for the way he had been treating the man. Sure, he was arrogant, and he had kind of just assumed that everyone knew who he was, but he hadn't done anything even remotely hurtful towards Danny. He had even held his hands away from clawing at his chest. Danny sunk back into the many thick blankets that were piled on the bed, pretty much the only thing he had requested, and considered everything that he knew about the man.

It had taken a few days, but he figured out that the 'psychopath' that had left was Wade, which in Danny's mind was a bad thing, but Stark had clearly thought he was helping. He'd provided food, water, and pain killers. And, when Danny had written 'I'm cold' in the journal, Stark had given him what felt like every blanket in the building. Danny chewed on his lip as he thought. It couldn't hurt to at least give the man his name, right?

Stark sighed while he was still debating it. "Okay." he said, standing up as he spoke. "I'm sorry." Danny watched as he headed for the door, still trying to make a decision, He made up his mind just as the door opened. He didn't want to be alone with all the white and his thoughts, anyway.

"Danny." he said. His voice was rough from disuse, and almost inaudible, but Stark froze with his hand on the door anyway. Stark looked at him, eyes wide. Danny shifted uncomfortably. He really wished Wade was still here to provide comfort. The man was just so big, he reminded Danny of his dad a little that way, and was so warm that Danny couldn't feel cold in his presence.

"Is that short for Daniel?" Stark asked after a long moment of staring. Danny frowned more.

"Just call me Danny."

"Alright, Danny, then." Stark came back over and sat down. "What's your last name?"

"It doesn't matter, I don't think it would help you get me home, anyway." Stark frowned at Danny's words.

"Why not? If you're an orphan, that's fine. We can find your foster family, or a relative for you to stay with." Starks words were soft, clearly intended to be comforting. Danny hated it, kind of wanted to throw the journal at his head again.

"I'm not from around here." he said instead.

"That's fine, I'm sure we can find your family, even if you're not from the states." How dumb could this man be? Danny considered throwing the journal again.

"No, I'm not from here." he tried again. Okay, maybe he was being obtuse on purpose, just a little, but Stark deserved it.

"Okay, I'm clearly missing something. What do you mean by 'here'?"

"Here," Danny made uncomfortable eye contact as he spoke. "As in this world, this dimension, whatever you want to call it. I'm not from here." Starks eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as though trying to find the words to speak, before he closed his mouth and stared at Danny for a while. Danny pulled the blankets tighter around himself, as though that would guard him from the mans gaze.

"Do you know how to get back?" Stark finally asked. Danny snorted.

"If I knew how to get home, do you think I'd still be here?" the man cringed at Danny's words.

"So, wait. Do you even know who I am?" Danny threw the journal at Starks head.


Wade pushed open the door to Sister Margaret's, not the NY branch, and stepped inside. {It's a little quiet in here, don't you think?}[huh. You're right, it is quiet in here.] "That's odd." Wade muttered to himself. He glanced around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was dark and dingy, just like normal, and there were rusty stains on the tables, floors, walls, and booths. Normal. [yo numbnuts, where are the people?] "oh, yeah. That's weird."

"What's weird?" Weasel asked, from his usual place behind the bar. Wade flinched. {how did we not see him there?}

"Hey Wease, where is everybody?" Wade asked. [Good question. Solid.]

"I sent them home, so that they wouldn't murder you the second you stepped through that door." Weasel was glaring at Wade. {Why would they murder us?}[you mean besides the fact that they're all trained killers? Hmm, I don't know.]{there's no need to be rude, you know?}

"Why would they kill me?" Wade asked, flopping onto one of the bar stools across from Weasel.

"Oh, I don't know." Weasels voice was flat. {he sounds kind of mad. Do you think he's mad at us?}[I don't know who else he would be mad with. We're the only ones here.] "Maybe it's because you've cleared the majority of the high paying jobs and there's table scraps left for the rest of them?!" {oh, he's definitely mad.}

"Well, I don't see what your problem is. You get half the pay no matter who takes the job." [oh, good idea, antagonize him. That'll end well]

"My problem, Wade, is that you disappeared for a month to go chase down some Weapon X offshoot, and then you come back and clear my hit list! Now the rest of the mercs are threatening me with bodily harm, all because you're having some sort of existential crisis!" {cut his hand off! He's being mean!} Deadpool pulled a knife and slammed it into the countertop.

"What does that have to do with me?" Weasel had reeled back, shocked.

"Wade," Weasels jaw was tense while he spoke, his eyes glued to the knife in his counter.[we're scaring him]{let him be scared. He's a pussy.} "If you kill me, who's going to organize your jobs for you?" Deadpool tilted his head.

"I've been in the merc business long before you were around, pal. I know how to get my own contracts. So, why should I care that the other mercs are annoyed with you?" Weasel swallowed audibly.

"They're not annoyed with me," {His voice is shaking.} "they're annoyed with you. But it's also common knowledge that you're unkillable, so they're threatening me, to try to get to you."

[well, that wouldn't work.] Deadpool burst out laughing.{the only thing that would accomplish is damaging their own link to clients!} Deadpool slammed his fist into the counter and laughed harder. [hey. Are we actually going to kill our only friend, or are we just threatening him because we're insecure?] Wade stopped laughing abruptly and lifted his head from the counter where it had dropped to, to look at Weasel again. Weasel was eyeing him like he was a rabid dog. Wade cleared his throat.

"That's a terrible plan on their part. If they killed you the only thing they would accomplish would be burning their best contact in the merc world." Wade pulled his knife from the counter, ignoring Weasels flinch, and resheathed it. "So what did you actually want to talk about, anyway?"

"You've been really off since you got back. I'd kind of like to know what happened, and also, I think it would be good for you to take a break." Wade tilted his head back and whined. {Do we have to?}[no, and I'd really rather we didn't, but the idiot's going to tell him anyway.]

They were right. "Fine," Wade grumbled. "But you can't judge me." He pointed a finger at Weasel for emphasis.

"I'm always judging you." Weasel said as he smacked Wade's finger out of his face.

Wade grumbled more, before he started talking, telling Weasel whatever he thought might be relevant. [oh, so we're not telling him everything, then?]{Do we ever?} Just enough to answer his questions, Wade thought.