Wade hopped out of the truck he had lifted an ride from an yelled to the oblivious driver, "Sorry about bleeding in all of your garbage! Seltzer water and lemon for blood." As the driver took off, Wade shook his head. "Whoo! Some kinds of anger can't be managed. Like the kind where your year-long plan ends with the wrong guy getting dismembered! That said, when it comes time for licking wounds, there's no place like home. And I share that home with someone you've met. The old blind lady from the laundry mat, Al."
He smiled as the surroundings changed back to the fateful day that he met Al. She had grumbled in annoyance, "God, I miss cocaine."
He pointed at her. "Her." He gasped. "Ah! Fourth wall break in a fourth wall break. That's like... sixteen walls! She's like Robin to my Batman, except she's old. And black. And blind. And I think she's in love with me. Wait, I'm pretty sure Robin loves Batman too. Too bad for her, but I'm already taken by two women." He winced slightly. Between falling asleep with Amy on the couch and the bridge he hadn't had time to break up with Vanessa.
Walking to his door, he knocked on it and called, "Amy?"
The door opened and a the red-head female who nearly constantly stayed at his house opened it. "You were on the news," she reported to him, a frown on her face. "I can't believe you caused that much damage!"
Wade tried to look ashamed, he really did, but he was rather happy he was able to take out some of Francis' men.
He looked up and saw Amy sigh and shake her head. She walked into the apartment, causing Wade to hurry after her, closing the door behind him.
"Yes, I'm old, I wear pants," Al, his actual roommate, snapped.
"But you're no lady," Wade replied.
"Don't be mean!" Amy reprimanded from the kitchen. She was already making Wade's favorite breakfast, a pop tart heated. The action alone made him smile. Amy was just thoughtful to do something like that – to not only remember his favorite meal and to keep it on stock but to also make it for him.
Keeping an eye on Amy, he slipped his shoes off and changed into a pair of crocs and gave a happy groan. "Oh! So comfy."
"Upside of being blind, I've never seen you in crocs," Al said with a frown.
"They're not that bad," Amy tried to defend. She really wasn't a fan of the crocs as well. They squeaked as he walked and had a weird, rubbery smell to them.
"It's what he does in them that I don't like. Downside of being blind. I hear everything in this duplex," Al elaborated.
Amy blushed, picking up on exactly what Al was referring to, and she really didn't want to here more of it.
Thankfully, Al was done talking and was instead focusing on her furniture project. It seemed like the apartment was calming down…until Wade ran into a wall with his foot and yelled at the offending wall, "Sit on a stick."
Amy looked over at him with a frown. He was holding himself oddly, favoring one of his hands. That just made her more concerned. If he had hurt himself it should have healed by now. She walked over to him quickly.
"What did you do to yourself?"
Wade sighed and held out his hand, which was still re-growing at was, therefore, almost amusingly small if someone had a dark sense of humor – which Wade, and his fanfiction – did. "It'll be fine," he still decided to say to Amy, mainly because she had a frown on her face and was clearly worried about him. "See, already grew an extra three centimeters while we were talking."
Amy tried not to smile, she really did. But then Wade lifted his tiny hand up and touched her cheek and she couldn't help but let her frown disappear. In response, Wade's tiny hand gave her cheek a small pat before he turned away to call over to Al, "How's that Cunen coming along? IKEA doesn't assemble itself, you know."
"You're telling me. I don't mind the Cunen. It's an improvement on the Holdall," Al responded before Amy could protest against Wade's rudeness on the older woman's behalf.
Wade scoffed. "Please. Anything's an improvement over the Holdall." He looked over at Amy. "Did you like the Holdall?"
"I don't know what the Holdall is," Amy pointed out with a frown.
Wade nodded. "Keep it that way. I'd have taken and Emness or a Tristes over the Holdall. No, I didn't get excited until I saw the Cunen."
"Screw please," Al asked.
Amy moved away from Wade and grabbed the only screw that was left for the furniture and handed it Al. The old woman gave her a small smile as she placed the screw in its allotted spot. "Ta da," she said in a dry voice.
The Cunen now finished, Amy eyed the chest of drawers. It really wasn't that bad – in fact it was very nicely made and had a nice color to it…she jumped back as the Cunen fell apart with a loud clatter. Al huffed and sat back. "I wish I'd never heard of Craigslist."
Sitting down next to the two women, Wade explained for the benefit of someone, though Amy had no idea who it was, "And I quote, 'Looking for blind and likes imperfections, must be good with hands.' Or would you rather I build the Ikea and you pay rent?"
"Why so douchy this morning?" Al asked with a frown, a question that, while Amy would have phrased it differently, she also was curious about.
"Let's recap. The cock-thistle that turned me into this freak slipped through my arms today. Arm. Catching him my only chance to be hot again, get my super sexy ex back, and prevent this shit from happening to someone else. So yeah, today was about as much fun as a sand paper dildo."
"Oh Wade," Amy sighed. She reached over, across Al, and took Wade's good hand. "I'm so sorry. I know you worked hard to get that information."
Wade gave Amy a slight smile, but it didn't reach his eyes or the rest of his face. "Thanks Amy."
At Sister Magaret's later that evening, Amy smiled as she listened to Weasel tell a joke to a couple of men sitting at the bar. "So the doctor says, 'Well the bad news is, you don't have that much time to live?' He says, 'How long do I have?' The doctor says, 'Five.' The guy says, 'Five what?' The doctor says, 'Four, three, two...'"
The men and Amy began to laugh at the joke, picking up on the punchline before Weasel had even said it. Written down it probably wouldn't have been that funny, but the way that Weasel said it with such convention made it funny.
"Can I help you ladies?" Weasel asked suddenly, causing Amy to look up. At the front of the bar was a woman, quite a few men, and…
"Francis?" Amy's whisper caught the attention of the men around her and Weasel. They looked over at her, confused, as she took a step forwards. "Francis?" She said louder, drawing the man's attention as well.
He looked over with a frown, a frown that only grew when he saw her. "Amy?" he asked, taking a step away from the group he had come with. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"What the hell am I doing here; what the hell are you doing here?" Amy snapped. "You leave me and run off with Angel and then think you can come back like nothing ever happened?"
Pulling up the exit for the back of the bar, Amy stormed over to her ex-husband and straight up in front of him, ignoring how the men behind him and the woman – who just had to be Angel – stepped forwards.
"I'm going to ask you once. What the hell are you doing in my bar?!"
"Wade Wilson," Francis answered immediately. "I heard you might be able to point me in the direction of him."
Amy blinked and then stepped back. "I have no idea who he is. So get the hell out."
But she had always, always been, as Francis had called her, a rubbish liar to everyone. Francis frowned and took a step forwards, making up more than the distance Amy had kept between them. "I think you're lying, sweetheart," he said in a low voice. "Now tell me the truth before – "
"Hey, you're not supposed to be behind the bar," Weasel's protest made Amy turn around. She glared at Angel as she stepped casually behind the counter as if she belonged.
"I recognize that girl," Angel said as she took a picture off the back wall. And then she took another and whistled. "Looks like she knows him as well," and Amy had a sinking feeling that the 'her' was, well, her.
Francis looked over, motioning for Angel to show him the pictures. One, Amy recognized instantly as the picture of Wade and Vanessa they took right before Wade was diagnosed; the second one was one that Amy remembered personally. It had been after Wade came back. It had been a party at Sister Magaret's. He was drunk and she was laughing as Weasel took a picture of them – a picture that was now getting shown to Francis.
"That must be Vanessa," Francis pointed out. "And then that's…"
As his voice trailed off thoughtfully, Amy had the sudden and very pressing need to move as far as away from Francis as possible. She took a step, and then another. Just as she made her third step, a vice-like grip caught her arm.
"I don't think so, sweetheart," Francis said.
The men around the bar who had been watching the exchange got to their feet and all pointed guns at Francis and Amy. Even Weasel pulled a small pistol, though he pointed it at Angel, who had been eyeing him.
"This isn't the place to do something like that," Amy said, her brave words falling a bit flat at the clear shaking in her voice.
Francis just laughed. "I think you and I need to have some catching up," he said in a very casual voice. He looked to the rest of the bar and gave them a smile. "Don't worry – I'll bring her back in one piece."
In response, the men kept holding their guns, causing Francis' men to pull their guns out and Angel to swiftly press Weasel against the wall via his throat.
"Amy," Francis said in a low voice, "If you don't tell your men to stand down then someone going to get hurt – because of you."
Amy swallowed very hard. She looked out at the men, many of them familiars she knew on a slightly personal level. Then she looked over at Weasel, who had let her live with him because he thought she was a good person.
"Guys it's okay," she said in a voice that was trying desperately to sound placating. "Just put the guns down and let us walk out. I promise I'll come back."
Slowly, one by one, the men put their guns down. Francis nodded and made a gesture to his men, causing them to put their weapons down as well. He looked over at Angel. "Easy, Angel. Put the little man down. We have everything we need now."
Still holding Amy's arm uncomfortably tight, Francis marched Amy away, the group following. As soon as the door closed behind them, Weasel turned to the group of angry men that made up his bar.
"We're getting her back," he stated to several nods. Turning his back, he picked up a phone and dialed Wade's number. "Wade, we have a fucking problem. And by we, I mean everyone."
And just outside the bar, the knocked out body of Amy was lifted into Francis' backseat. For a moment, the British man stared down at the red-head with a small, slight smile. He pulled a strand of hair from her face to behind her ear.
But then the moment was gone, and Francis' smile slipped away. "I knew you would come back to bite me in the ass." He stated. "You're too stupid for your own good." He stepped away from her and slammed the door of the backseat. "Now where did you see Vanessa?" Francis asked Angel, and just as he knew she would, she told him exactly where to find Vanessa.
Perfect.
We finally found out who Amy's ex-husband is! I hope that came as a shock to everyone, but if you go back I did set it up - her husband ran off with a woman he called Angel that he met at the bar; she describes herself as a 'rubbish' liar, which is a British term and something that Francis would call her. You guys will find out why Francis left Amy in the next chapter and, while does give him a good explanation, I am not making him sympathetic. He's still a horrible person.
For the rest of the chapter, I know it's a bit short, but I thought it would be too much for Wade and Weasel to go to the strip club. Of course, it won't just be those two, sense there will be more guys joining Wade. I feel like a lot of the men would like Amy enough to go and kick some Francis ass.
I hope you guys enjoy!