Tʜᴇʀᴇsᴀ Cᴀssɪᴅʏ : ʙᴀɴsʜᴇᴇ (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} warningsiren) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} payline,@ 2014-03-01 20:11:00 |
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When: The night of her arrival
Where: Wade's room
Rating: Low
Warnings: Nothing triggering as far as I can tell
Summary: Terry goes to see Deadpool after finding out he was here. They catch up.
Status: closed, complete
Insomnia was weird. You felt like the only one alive in the world-- even if you were in Las Vegas. Even if you were in a hotel full of people. It was you and your mind, and maybe a few hallucinations. She heard phantom phone vibrations. TVs from other apartments. Horns honking.
She wanted a beer and a bubblebath. That was all she wanted. She went into the bathroom and could only find little bottles of shampoo, Old Spice body wash and tiny pieces of soap. The minibar had a couple of Heinekens. Welp. It would have to do. Terry sat in a bathtub, smelling what she figured was what your man could smell like. The beer was warm and didn’t taste as good as she was hoping. That was when she accepted it. Sean Cassidy was dead. She remembered being raised by a man who wanted to protect her, who loved her more than his own life, who needed her as much as she needed him. And then Sean. He met her when she had been raised by another man, was a criminal, was broken-- and loved her anyway. But this Vegas gave her hope. Maybe her dad could show up here. Maybe... She went through the stages of grief now, didn’t she? Shouldn’t it be done now? Maybe the sadness lingered because of the fact that Jamie wasn’t here gone, nor Ric or Rahne. Why did she miss Jamie so much? He had moved on, and so had she-- right? But he always felt like he’d be hers. Even when she didn't want him.
It was nice that Wade was here. She shouldn’t be lonely, there were so many people here, people she should get to know. And maybe Wade needed her. Wow, Wade. Don't get her started there.
No more moping in the tub. It was time she went mobile. She gently stood up out of the water and dried herself. Her hair was dripping still damp, and her St. Christopher medal was sticking to her neck when she went out to the hall. The only thing she could think to do was what she loved to do in any large building...
Go to the elevators. Hit all the buttons and sit on the floor. Feel the floor move up and down. Tom told her once he used to do this in their old apartment, when she was an infant. it made her sleep. She thought she should try that trick now, before attempting the Brandy on her gums or children’s Benadryl.
This was so weird. Terry, granted one from a different timeline, had been given to him in this weird-ass fake-Vegas, only to be taken away from him just as quickly. He was just starting to deal with it, to process his own shock and grief over being given something he'd wanted more than life itself, only to have it yanked out of his grasp. He'd had help... everything from the steadfast and true friendship of Jane Foster, to the respect of Captain America, to the (admittedly surprising) romantic interest of Sharon Carter. It all was helping him put the pieces of himself back together.
Well... at least as much as Deadpool COULD have himself put back together. Considering everything that had happened, you'd have to excuse Wade for being a little gunshy when it came to hearing that another version of Siryn was here now. How different would THIS one be? How long would she last? Would she even have the same memories of him?
He sat there, on a sofa in the middle of the now empty penthouse he'd formerly shared with Wanda and Tito... Trying to decide how he should go about finding her, and what the hell to say to her. He could be broken again. He could feel it. If it happened again, he'd be destroyed.
As the elevator went back up for a third time, Terry decided she wasn’t accepting it. Her dad couldn’t be dead. He was deep undercover. He did it before. Why not now? He also wouldn’t go out like that-- not at all like how Scott Summers described it. Fuck Scott Summers.
Wade. She needed to talk to Wade. That was the next obsessing thought. Because Terry was self-destructive, of course she’d want to go to him. No, just to talk, she thought. He’d set the story straight. Not like he had any insider info, but Wade was wise in his own way.
With a DING the doors of the elevator opened and she rushed down the hall, mumbling each door number to herself-- then Wade’s door. She smacked her hand against his door and let out, “Oy, Wade, it’s me-e!” A little sing-song, trying to let him know she wasn’t there to punch him in the gob.
Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Wade sprung from his seat, wearing a plaid bathrobe over Nintendo pajama bottoms with a t-shirt that said "I Taught Christian Grey All That Shit", wondering who the hell would even be coming up here. Jane, maybe? Trying to cheer him up? Sighing, he turned the handle and pulled the door open, eyes immediately going wide and blinking repeatedly as he stared. Whoa. It really WAS her. Again. God, he didn't know how much of this his heart OR his precarious sanity could handle.
He couldn't even think of anything to say immediately... he just stared at her, not really thinking about the fact that technically? She wouldn't even recognize him looking "normal". Good lord. It was like every time he was away from her, he forgot just how beautiful she was. How every inch of her screamed 'perfection' to him.
Terry tilted her head, confused. Who the hell was this guy? "I t'ought tis... Tis isn't Wade's room?" Years in America washed away her accent but the th's were still soft and slurred.
Unless of course the person in front of her was Wade but not her Wade. Terry's shoulders slumped. There went any chance of having something familiar with her in bizzaro-Vegas. "Never mind, 'den."
"Wait... Terry... it's... it's me." He said, reaching out to grab her shoulder. "This place.... somehow coming here healed me. It made me unscarred. It at least partially healed my mind. It took away at least some of the heartbreak caused by The Phantom Menace." Oh good God. Well, clearly his goofiness was still intact, hmm? "I swear to you... it's ME. I still remember all the times I watched you sleep from outside your window... cos, you know, not creepy at ALL... or when you helped me against Black Tom and Juggernaut. OH! And that time Cable threatened to shoot me in the face if I didn't stay away from you. Ahhh, good times."
Terry jerked a smidge when Wade grabbed her shoulder-- she wasn’t completely sure it was him yet. And random dudes don’t touch Theresa Cassidy. (Well, some do, and those dudes get hurt). Wade showing up here unscarred seemed a little too convenient. Her expression read more you owe me money than oh good magic unscarification. But he knew things only Wade would know-- like sleeping outside her room at Xavier’s mansion.
“Shoooore it did. Okaay, but wha’s th’ catch?”
"I wish I knew. I just know that I'd just got done having a classic Super-Hero Team-Up with Logan and Captain America, when BLAMMO. I ended up here, and looking normal again.Terry... it's me, I swear. Ask me anything..." He said, before randomly adding, "Just... make sure it's something I can actually answer, you know? Like, don't ask me to explain the appeal of Taylor Swift. Or why Firefly got cancelled."
Terry grinned stupidly for a moment. That sounded like Wade. “Can yeh tell me why kids luve the taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” She poked him in the chest. Yeah, he felt real. Terry then raised her hand and went to touch the side of his face. She thought maybe it could be an image inducer? He should know she didn’t care what he looked like.
"Well.... OFFICIALLY that question was never answered, thus making this a trick question. Personally, I say it's because because there's cinnamon covered swirls in every bite." Oh, god. Here we go. At least when she touched him... she could feel the smoothness of his skin. It was no image inducer at work... somehow he really HAD been healed here. "Terry... if it's really you... I mean, the you that I knew, if that makes ANY sense... I'm trying. I promise you... I'm trying to be the man you deserve. I just.... I need a chance. I need you to let me show you I can be what you need. I'd do anything for you. Even sit through an Eric Roberts film marathon..."
She laughed softly at his answer. She couldn’t feel his scars, he really had been healed. Terry was thrilled, Wade was always really touchy about his appearance. She expected him to answer the door in his mask.
“I tink I am the same T’eresa. Last ting I remember was fucking Scott Summers sayin me dad was dead.” The casual way she she it maybe was a hint that she didn’t completely believe it still. Terry held her hands up as if he were mugging her. “T’man man I deserve? Cool it, boyo, I just got here.”
"Yeah, I know. I just... I've thought about you every day since the last time we spoke. Every single day." He admitted, looking down at the ground, to avoid looking her in the eyes. "Hell, there's a girl here that I'm friends with... that I can tell is crazy about me. But I keep ignoring it because at the end of the day she's not YOU." He said, before quickly adding "So, Summers huh? Yeah, screw that guy. Not literally though. He's been with Emma Frost which means he's probably stockpiling more diseases than the monkey from 'Outbreak'..."
Terry’s lips made a thin line and she brought her hands back to her sides. It was such a weird situation. She liked Wade-- loved him, even, but how can you be with someone that almost literally worships you? Their history was kind of a big deal.
Fuck it.
Terry threw her arms out and around Wade. She pressed her face into chest. “Shut up.” Don’t talk about Emma Frost to this Cassidy.
"Well... I *do* tend to talk too much..." Wade said, smirking just a little as his arms wrapped eagerly around her. "You might have to be creative and find some way to MAKE me shut up...." Oh, SMOOTH, Wade. Ah well. And truthfully... he didn't so much worship her as much he OBSESSED over her. While he was funny and occasionally adorably bumbling... we can't lose sight of the fact that Wade Wilson was still a fractured, mentally unbalanced killer, no matter HOW hard he was trying to be better.
The whole “mentally unbalanced killer” that-watched-her-sleep part didn’t escape Terry. She knew this was bad news bears. She knew that coming to his room was a bad idea. But she was scared and alone. She lost her dad (even if she kept insisting he was alive somewhere). Terry felt like she was the only living woman in the world-- and Wade the last living man.
“Aren’ yeh gonna invite me in?”
He did more than that. Knowing now that at least she WANTED to be here, with him, gave him the courage to let go a little. He grinned, grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her up, looking into her eyes with more obvious want and desire than he'd ever really shown with her. "Inviting you in isn't gonna be the hard part.... that's gonna be letting you GO."
"Are ye threatening ta kidnap me, Wade Wilson?" When he picked her up, she rolled with it. Terry wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. "Probably wouldn't be t'first time." It was a joke but she realized she should probably lay down a few rules. “You hafta be good, don’t be killin anyone.”
"I haven't..." He said, grinning at her and just enjoying the thrill of her touch again. "Not in a while. And I won't. Not unless it's the only option. Or if they badmouth Bea Arthur. Then it's on like Donkey Kong."
Insomnia was weird. You felt like the only one alive in the world-- even if you were in Las Vegas. Even if you were in a hotel full of people. It was you and your mind, and maybe a few hallucinations. She heard phantom phone vibrations. TVs from other apartments. Horns honking.
She wanted a beer and a bubblebath. That was all she wanted. She went into the bathroom and could only find little bottles of shampoo, Old Spice body wash and tiny pieces of soap. The minibar had a couple of Heinekens. Welp. It would have to do. Terry sat in a bathtub, smelling what she figured was what your man could smell like. The beer was warm and didn’t taste as good as she was hoping. That was when she accepted it. Sean Cassidy was dead. She remembered being raised by a man who wanted to protect her, who loved her more than his own life, who needed her as much as she needed him. And then Sean. He met her when she had been raised by another man, was a criminal, was broken-- and loved her anyway. But this Vegas gave her hope. Maybe her dad could show up here. Maybe... She went through the stages of grief now, didn’t she? Shouldn’t it be done now? Maybe the sadness lingered because of the fact that Jamie wasn’t here gone, nor Ric or Rahne. Why did she miss Jamie so much? He had moved on, and so had she-- right? But he always felt like he’d be hers. Even when she didn't want him.
It was nice that Wade was here. She shouldn’t be lonely, there were so many people here, people she should get to know. And maybe Wade needed her. Wow, Wade. Don't get her started there.
No more moping in the tub. It was time she went mobile. She gently stood up out of the water and dried herself. Her hair was dripping still damp, and her St. Christopher medal was sticking to her neck when she went out to the hall. The only thing she could think to do was what she loved to do in any large building...
Go to the elevators. Hit all the buttons and sit on the floor. Feel the floor move up and down. Tom told her once he used to do this in their old apartment, when she was an infant. it made her sleep. She thought she should try that trick now, before attempting the Brandy on her gums or children’s Benadryl.
This was so weird. Terry, granted one from a different timeline, had been given to him in this weird-ass fake-Vegas, only to be taken away from him just as quickly. He was just starting to deal with it, to process his own shock and grief over being given something he'd wanted more than life itself, only to have it yanked out of his grasp. He'd had help... everything from the steadfast and true friendship of Jane Foster, to the respect of Captain America, to the (admittedly surprising) romantic interest of Sharon Carter. It all was helping him put the pieces of himself back together.
Well... at least as much as Deadpool COULD have himself put back together. Considering everything that had happened, you'd have to excuse Wade for being a little gunshy when it came to hearing that another version of Siryn was here now. How different would THIS one be? How long would she last? Would she even have the same memories of him?
He sat there, on a sofa in the middle of the now empty penthouse he'd formerly shared with Wanda and Tito... Trying to decide how he should go about finding her, and what the hell to say to her. He could be broken again. He could feel it. If it happened again, he'd be destroyed.
As the elevator went back up for a third time, Terry decided she wasn’t accepting it. Her dad couldn’t be dead. He was deep undercover. He did it before. Why not now? He also wouldn’t go out like that-- not at all like how Scott Summers described it. Fuck Scott Summers.
Wade. She needed to talk to Wade. That was the next obsessing thought. Because Terry was self-destructive, of course she’d want to go to him. No, just to talk, she thought. He’d set the story straight. Not like he had any insider info, but Wade was wise in his own way.
With a DING the doors of the elevator opened and she rushed down the hall, mumbling each door number to herself-- then Wade’s door. She smacked her hand against his door and let out, “Oy, Wade, it’s me-e!” A little sing-song, trying to let him know she wasn’t there to punch him in the gob.
Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Wade sprung from his seat, wearing a plaid bathrobe over Nintendo pajama bottoms with a t-shirt that said "I Taught Christian Grey All That Shit", wondering who the hell would even be coming up here. Jane, maybe? Trying to cheer him up? Sighing, he turned the handle and pulled the door open, eyes immediately going wide and blinking repeatedly as he stared. Whoa. It really WAS her. Again. God, he didn't know how much of this his heart OR his precarious sanity could handle.
He couldn't even think of anything to say immediately... he just stared at her, not really thinking about the fact that technically? She wouldn't even recognize him looking "normal". Good lord. It was like every time he was away from her, he forgot just how beautiful she was. How every inch of her screamed 'perfection' to him.
Terry tilted her head, confused. Who the hell was this guy? "I t'ought tis... Tis isn't Wade's room?" Years in America washed away her accent but the th's were still soft and slurred.
Unless of course the person in front of her was Wade but not her Wade. Terry's shoulders slumped. There went any chance of having something familiar with her in bizzaro-Vegas. "Never mind, 'den."
"Wait... Terry... it's... it's me." He said, reaching out to grab her shoulder. "This place.... somehow coming here healed me. It made me unscarred. It at least partially healed my mind. It took away at least some of the heartbreak caused by The Phantom Menace." Oh good God. Well, clearly his goofiness was still intact, hmm? "I swear to you... it's ME. I still remember all the times I watched you sleep from outside your window... cos, you know, not creepy at ALL... or when you helped me against Black Tom and Juggernaut. OH! And that time Cable threatened to shoot me in the face if I didn't stay away from you. Ahhh, good times."
Terry jerked a smidge when Wade grabbed her shoulder-- she wasn’t completely sure it was him yet. And random dudes don’t touch Theresa Cassidy. (Well, some do, and those dudes get hurt). Wade showing up here unscarred seemed a little too convenient. Her expression read more you owe me money than oh good magic unscarification. But he knew things only Wade would know-- like sleeping outside her room at Xavier’s mansion.
“Shoooore it did. Okaay, but wha’s th’ catch?”
"I wish I knew. I just know that I'd just got done having a classic Super-Hero Team-Up with Logan and Captain America, when BLAMMO. I ended up here, and looking normal again.Terry... it's me, I swear. Ask me anything..." He said, before randomly adding, "Just... make sure it's something I can actually answer, you know? Like, don't ask me to explain the appeal of Taylor Swift. Or why Firefly got cancelled."
Terry grinned stupidly for a moment. That sounded like Wade. “Can yeh tell me why kids luve the taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” She poked him in the chest. Yeah, he felt real. Terry then raised her hand and went to touch the side of his face. She thought maybe it could be an image inducer? He should know she didn’t care what he looked like.
"Well.... OFFICIALLY that question was never answered, thus making this a trick question. Personally, I say it's because because there's cinnamon covered swirls in every bite." Oh, god. Here we go. At least when she touched him... she could feel the smoothness of his skin. It was no image inducer at work... somehow he really HAD been healed here. "Terry... if it's really you... I mean, the you that I knew, if that makes ANY sense... I'm trying. I promise you... I'm trying to be the man you deserve. I just.... I need a chance. I need you to let me show you I can be what you need. I'd do anything for you. Even sit through an Eric Roberts film marathon..."
She laughed softly at his answer. She couldn’t feel his scars, he really had been healed. Terry was thrilled, Wade was always really touchy about his appearance. She expected him to answer the door in his mask.
“I tink I am the same T’eresa. Last ting I remember was fucking Scott Summers sayin me dad was dead.” The casual way she she it maybe was a hint that she didn’t completely believe it still. Terry held her hands up as if he were mugging her. “T’man man I deserve? Cool it, boyo, I just got here.”
"Yeah, I know. I just... I've thought about you every day since the last time we spoke. Every single day." He admitted, looking down at the ground, to avoid looking her in the eyes. "Hell, there's a girl here that I'm friends with... that I can tell is crazy about me. But I keep ignoring it because at the end of the day she's not YOU." He said, before quickly adding "So, Summers huh? Yeah, screw that guy. Not literally though. He's been with Emma Frost which means he's probably stockpiling more diseases than the monkey from 'Outbreak'..."
Terry’s lips made a thin line and she brought her hands back to her sides. It was such a weird situation. She liked Wade-- loved him, even, but how can you be with someone that almost literally worships you? Their history was kind of a big deal.
Fuck it.
Terry threw her arms out and around Wade. She pressed her face into chest. “Shut up.” Don’t talk about Emma Frost to this Cassidy.
"Well... I *do* tend to talk too much..." Wade said, smirking just a little as his arms wrapped eagerly around her. "You might have to be creative and find some way to MAKE me shut up...." Oh, SMOOTH, Wade. Ah well. And truthfully... he didn't so much worship her as much he OBSESSED over her. While he was funny and occasionally adorably bumbling... we can't lose sight of the fact that Wade Wilson was still a fractured, mentally unbalanced killer, no matter HOW hard he was trying to be better.
The whole “mentally unbalanced killer” that-watched-her-sleep part didn’t escape Terry. She knew this was bad news bears. She knew that coming to his room was a bad idea. But she was scared and alone. She lost her dad (even if she kept insisting he was alive somewhere). Terry felt like she was the only living woman in the world-- and Wade the last living man.
“Aren’ yeh gonna invite me in?”
He did more than that. Knowing now that at least she WANTED to be here, with him, gave him the courage to let go a little. He grinned, grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her up, looking into her eyes with more obvious want and desire than he'd ever really shown with her. "Inviting you in isn't gonna be the hard part.... that's gonna be letting you GO."
"Are ye threatening ta kidnap me, Wade Wilson?" When he picked her up, she rolled with it. Terry wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. "Probably wouldn't be t'first time." It was a joke but she realized she should probably lay down a few rules. “You hafta be good, don’t be killin anyone.”
"I haven't..." He said, grinning at her and just enjoying the thrill of her touch again. "Not in a while. And I won't. Not unless it's the only option. Or if they badmouth Bea Arthur. Then it's on like Donkey Kong."