Ok, I know I've been bad at updating this chapter, in fact, I've been sitting on it for a while, afraid to post, but my friend, PyroQueenofFire begged me to post and add a note saying that this is just a bump in the road, all of my stories do have happy endings…eventually. Thanks to IcedBlaze for beta-reading and to Pyro for giving me the boot up the pants that I needed.

Standard Disclaimer applies and also, as a note, I haven't done medical science, neither has Darcy, this is just her take on what was happening.

Don't forget to leave a review when you're done! Have a good one!

Chapter Fourteen: Waking up….

Nervously, Darcy put on the white lab coat. Never before could she remember doing anything like this. Reversing such extensive disfiguration was something she was sure hadn't been done before. Rubbing down her clammy hands on her pant legs, she walked into the examination room, spying Hank applying the Vital Sensor pads over Deadpool's body. Darcy had to swallow for a moment, spying her lover in just a pair of tight black shorts. Wincing at the term, she turned her eyes away from him and looked at Hank.

The blue man spied her over Deadpool's shoulder and gave her a wry smile. "You certainly know how to pick them, Darcy girl," He said, a slight growl adding a timbre to his voice.

"What do you mean?" She asked curiously, coming around and facing Deadpool.

I wrote him a love letter, see? He held out a piece of paper with a few lines scrawled:

Dear Mr. Beastie McDreamy,

I thank you for not touching me as Barbie touches Ken

Duct tape is the sticky of the world

And, please, be gentle, I'm a virgin

Sincerely,

Your neighborhood friendly Deadpool

CHEERS!

Darcy gave her innocent looking new friend a slap across the back of the head. "Sorry, Hank, he still needs to be properly housetrained. Is everything ready?" Ignoring the scarred man's indignant glare, she walked over to the taps and washed her hands, diligently rubbing in an anti-sanitizer. The blue man nodded and took a seat by the computer, watching the vital signs viciously, giving them their privacy.

"Lay down," she said to Deadpool quietly. The tall man followed her instruction promptly. Pulling over a stool, she set it at the head of the surgery table.

Are you alright, Princess? She smiled down at him, her hands stroking his face gently.

"Of course, I'm just a little nervous that's all. I've never done this before."

You haven't given me any reason to doubt your abilities, Cupcake. Taking in a deep breath, she settled down, her hands either side of his cheeks. Lightly, she stroked his cheeks, delving into his abilities slowly, getting an idea of what she had to deal with.

"This will hurt, a lot," she said quietly, "I'm sorry."

I've got a high threshold for pain, darling, don't worry about me. Shall we get started on bringing back my mouth and good looks?

Nodding to Hank, she pulled her old ability up. It was a struggle; the power was deep, in an almost locked away part in her mind. Like sluggish worms, she felt it come up, through her feet, her body, her arms and, finally, through her hands. Deadpool's cells stood to attention, not quite sure of what to take of her intrusion. Lightly, she started to talk to them, try and convince them to do her bidding.

Like a tidal wave, they fought against her viciously. Their ferocity took her by surprise and she was almost overwhelmed. Gathering her wits and nerves, she pushed harder, making them bend to her control. It seemed like hours had passed, the tug of war against cellular control was brutal and bloodthirsty. Finally, she broke through the lines. Stryker's influence had been deeper than she realized. Suddenly, she heard screaming, but it wasn't in her mind. The voice was disembodied, out of her focus.

The cells were quiet in his jaw, so she moved further up, the scars easier to heal. More hours went by as she waged war, her fingers climbing higher and higher as the screams got louder and louder. Suddenly, she won the war. No more cells to battle, no more skirmishes to win. Quietly, like a leaf on a river, she pulled her ability back in through her fingers and down through her body, back to the quiet corner it was locked in.

Opening her eyes, she absently stroked the lush, thick, brown locks. She gazed down the closed brown eyes and absently noted that a tiny web of scars remained on one cheek. His lips were well defined, arched perfectly. A drop of red liquid marred his features where Darcy leaned over him. Grasping the sleeve of her lab coat, she held it up to her nose, blood staining the fabric rapidly.

"Are you alright, Darcy?" Hank's concerned voice was close, almost at her ear. Jumping at the sudden noise, she looked over at the furry man with a slightly dazed expression.

"Um, yeah, sorry, just trying to get my vertigo back," she replied. Before Hank could say anything else, a student walked in, complaining of food poisoning.

"Are you alright, handling Deadpool now?" he asked, unsure to leave her alone.

Darcy nodded reassuringly, "Yeah, I'll be fine in a few minutes. He should be waking soon. How long did it take?"

"Three hours," Hank replied, moving to walk out the door. "If you need me, use the intercom." She nodded again, and turned back to Deadpool, a tendril of recognition floating through her mind.

It wasn't long until he woke up, fluttering his long lashes as he opened his eyes. "Cupcake?"

Suddenly, everything she knew came flooding back. He reached out to her, hurt flickering over his face as she speedily moved backwards up, her hand over her mouth.

"Does it really look that bad?" He reached up and touched his hair, before falling down to his mouth and cheeks, smiling a little. "It doesn't feel that bad, Princess. I think you did it!" His smile nailed in the last of her shock.

"No FUCKING way!" She swore, walking backwards until she hit the wall and slid down, her wide eyes unable to take the sight in front of her.

"I know, right?" he was taking her words the wrong way. He looked at his reflection on the wall, preening and posing. He poked at his mouth and stuck out his tongue. "I look amazing, not to mention the scar has a certain dangerous appeal." Frowning at her lack of response, he turned to her, his expression going from jubilant to worried. "Princess, you look a little startled—in fact, you look really startled."

Darcy couldn't comprehend the face in front of her. It wasn't possible, she was dreaming, everything was a dream, it couldn't be a memory, she flat out refused to let it be a memory. But all of her denials still didn't stop her from whispering it out loud. "Wade?" A strangled sob escaped her throat as tears welled. "No, no, no, no, no, it can't be true," she turned her head away from him and blinked, hoping the face looking at her blankly would turn into another.

"How did you know my real name?" he said quietly, no tone in his voice detectable. "I don't remember telling you." It was like the last nail was hammered into her coffin. There was no way she could deny it now. Closing her eyes, she turned back to him, her posture absolutely dejected.

"Everything that I dreamed, it was real," she whispered to the air, her voice fatalistic. "You're Wade Wilson."

"Everything, Princess?" Deadpool—Wade's accent was husky from lack of use, but his questioning pitch was real and detectable. She could almost hear the gears ticking in his head as growing horror spread over his face. "Wait…"

"I'm Darcy Whitlock," she almost shouted at him, unable to hold the tears at bay any longer. "You bought me my Funny Bunny when I was a girl." Flashes of their shared night crossed her mind and she began to feel nauseous. "Oh, god! What have I done?" Wade looked at her, processing the information and formulate something to say.

"D-Darcy? My little Darcy? My Funny Bunny toting, tea party having, tiny little slip of a girl Darcy?" his own shock was evident. "Well…um…I've just added pedophile to my list of sins," he said dumbly, leaning against the table.

Darcy looked at him her eyes red and raw. "Wha-what am I going to call you now?" He swallowed thickly, looking away from her.

"Honestly? I really don't know." He paused for a moment. "God! At this point, I'm trying to process how the fuck this all happened…just pick one and call me whatever it is you want." Wade's voice died down to an almost inaudible whisper. "Jesus Fucking Christ!"

"Where do we go from here?" Darcy asked after a moment. "FUCK!"

He rubbed his temples, unable to truly comprehend what was going on. Darcy stared at him helplessly, her hands trembling from both the cell reversal and the past that pushed itself to the forefront of her mind. The previous night floated around her head like a broken record, her breathy moans, her begging him to continue. She just wanted to scream out loud, beg him to forget what a slut she felt she had been. Words were truly beyond them, but neither could handle the silence.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked dully, looking over at him. Rubbing his temples he looked back at her, emotions he didn't want to analyze rushing through him.

"I'm…appreciative of what you've done for me, Princess," he began, smiling sadly before composing himself back to a steady stare. "But…I just can't stay here…not here with all the rules and the bonding and the discipline…not close to you…this is a bit…this is a bit much to handle." Her face crumbled and her tears stumbled over her eyes and down her cheeks. "I have to do what I do best, Princess…" He trailed off, unable to continue as she buried her head into her hands, drawing her knees up to hide.

He began again, his voice raw. "Princess, I really wish you wouldn't cry…" He sighed quietly. "Honestly, I think it's the best for both of us if I just…" He moved over to her, his hand reaching towards her bowed head before clenching into a fist and pulling back. "God, Princess, I'm so sorry." He leaned over and kissed her head before turning and walking out, not once looking back at her.