Holding Back - 19. Chapter 19

It’s dark. It’s pitch-black, and there are sounds in the darkness. Rustling and shuffling, and a voice humming quietly. He wonders why it’s so dark, and why it’s so hard to move, and what that smell is. Then a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder makes its presence known, and he realises two things: that the smell is alcohol, and that it’s dark because his eyes are closed.

With great effort, Peter opens his eyes. He’s met by a cracked ceiling with a few suspicious looking stains on it. Blinking twice, because it’s hard to focus, he lets his gaze slide from the ceiling onto a bare brick wall to his left. Looking to the other side, his gaze falls upon a worn couch, a chair, a large TV, a standing lamp and a thick, orange shag rug. The yellow light of street lamps creeps in through windows he can’t see from his current vantage point. He knows this place.

In addition to the stabby pain, Peter feels a dull ache in the front of his head and his temples, though in truth, now that he’s taken the time to notice, he realises that his entire body hurts. He also realises that he appears to be nearly naked. The blankets feel soft on his bare skin, though he seems to be wearing underwear.

His ears pick up the sound of humming again, and recognise the tune as something from a Disney film. He looks for the source of the sound, and at the foot of his mattress he notices a figure in a slightly blood stained Pantera t-shirt, cleaning a few metal instruments with disinfectant wipes. Wade.

‘Hey,’ says Peter. At least that’s what he means to say, but his throat is so dry it comes out as an inarticulate croak and he coughs weakly.

Wade looks up from his work, brown eyes wide with surprise. Then he drops the forceps he’s holding and they fall to the floor with a clatter. He scoots closer and takes Peter’s hand. ‘You’re awake,’ he mumbles. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d . . . I worried.’ He lifts a glass of water from the floor and brings it to Peter’s lips to let him drink.

The cool water running down his throat is the most wonderful thing Peter has ever felt. After a couple of blissful sips he takes a deep breath and asks, ‘What happened?’

‘You got shot.’ Wade’s eyes are still wide. He looks almost shocked, like he can’t quite believe Peter is speaking to him. ‘Twice, in the shoulder. One of the shits that attacked us had steady aim. I took the bullets out and stitched you up while you were out.’

Peter notes that his shoulder is indeed bandaged in clean, white gauze, and raises his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You fixed me?’

Wade shrugs one shoulder. ‘I couldn’t exactly take you to a hospital. Didn’t leave me a lot of options, really.’

‘You could have taken me to the Baxter building,’ Peter points out. ‘Reed’s stitched me up a whole bunch of times.’

The ghost of a smile flutters across Wade’s features. ‘I know how to patch up a bullet wound, Parker. Besides, if I’d showed up there carrying a Spider-Man full of holes, Richards and his little gang would have thought I put them in you.’

Peter gives a soft laugh and winces at the fresh pain it provokes from his shoulder. ‘Point taken.’

‘Here.’ Wade reaches for a brown paper bag at the foot of the mattress and pulls out a small, orange plastic container full of oblong white pills. He takes two out and brings his hand to Peter’s lips. ‘Prescription strength. Open wide.’

Peter opens his mouth and Wade tips the pills inside before offering more water. Peter swallows the pills without hesitation. ‘Guess it’s too much to hope that these were legally obtained?’

Wade shrugs one shoulder. ‘I know a guy. Believe it or not, I need pain relief sometimes, and the regular over the counter kind don’t cut it. I can’t exactly go to a doctor, so . . .’ He takes Peter’s hand again and lifts it gently, pressing his knuckles to his lips. ‘I am so fucking glad you’re alive, Petey,’ he all but whispers. ‘For a moment, I thought—’ He cuts himself off, looking away. ‘It wasn’t so bad, though. Bullets hit mostly soft tissue, didn’t shatter any bone or damage the cartilage. You should be back in fighting shape again soon. It’ll probably scar, though. I’m sorry.’

Peter smiles softly, and does his best to squeeze the hand holding his. ‘Thank you, Wade,’ he says emphatically, because more than ever he really means it. ‘What is that, the fifth time you save my life?’

Wade grins. ‘I dunno, I lost count. Anyway, you don’t need to thank me. A world without you in it is just . . .’ He trails off and shrugs again, shaking his head.

Peter feels his eyelids begin to grow heavy once more and supposes the painkillers must be kicking in. Wade’s bed is a soft nest of pillows and blankets. It feels almost like floating on a cloud. ‘As soon as I’m better I’ll thank you properly,’ he murmurs sleepily. ‘I think I’m gonna go back to sleep now . . .’

‘Of course, baby boy,’ says Wade, kissing his hand again. His warm, rough lips feel soothing and familiar on Peter’s skin. ‘You just rest now. I’ll be right here.’

* * *

‘An’ you’re sure it was the AMDL?’ Logan’s voice is its usual gruff self over the phone, but Wade thinks he can hear a hint of emotion in it. Worry, perhaps?

Yes, because Wolverine has such a good track record of showing concern for our wellbeing.

Wade ignores his mind. ‘Yeah. The bait came back. I threatened him. He told me who they were.’

‘You didn’t kill ‘im?’

Come to think of it, why didn’t we kill him?

Wade pauses for a moment, glancing over at Peter’s sleeping form. ‘No,’ he says at last. ‘I let him go. He was unarmed. Just a lackey.’

Logan gives a deep grunt in response. ‘That’s unlike you.’

‘Yeah. Guess I’ve gone soft.’

‘Seems your boy’s been good for ya. Glad you managed to keep ‘im alive, bub.’

‘I still murdered the shit out of all the others,’ says Wade quietly. ‘I’ll have a hell of a time explaining that to him once he thinks to ask.’

‘Yeah, well, he ain’t like you an’ me, Wade. Two of us, we gotta fight our nature. Him . . . He’s the real deal. A better angel.’

‘You don’t have to tell me that.’ Wade sighs. ‘So, you’ll follow up on the intel?’

‘Ain’t much to go on,’ Logan says, sounding surly as ever. ‘But we’ll do what we can. You just keep your boy outta trouble in the meantime.’ A brief silence follows. ‘Wade, I’m real sorry. If we’d known they’d gotten this big a foothold in New York City, we coulda warned ya. I’m sorry Spider-Man got hurt. He’s a good kid.’

‘He is. But it’s not your fault.’ Over on the mattress, Peter shifts and makes a small noise. ‘I gotta go. He’s waking up again. Let me know if you turn anything up, okay?’

‘Will do.’

Wade hangs up the phone and walks over to kneel next to Peter. He brushes brown hair away from Peter’s sweaty brow, and Peter opens his eyes.

‘Hey,’ says Wade.

‘Hey,’ Peter responds. He smiles, starts to push himself up into a sitting position, and winces. ‘Ow. How long was I asleep?’ He gives up and lies back down against the pillows.

Wade shrugs. ‘Couple of hours. You slept like the dead. How are you feeling?’

‘Like I’ve been shot,’ Peter deadpans.

‘Want some more painkillers?’

‘Maybe just the one this time? I haven’t got your tolerance, you know.’

Wade smiles in spite of everything. ‘Dude, I have to take like six of those for them to have the effect an aspirin would have on you.’

He administers a pill to Peter, and proceeds to fuss over his pillows and blankets for a few minutes, more for something to do than anything else.

’So,’ says Peter after some moments. ‘What actually happened?’

‘You got shot,’ Wade repeats.

‘I know that, but I mean . . . What happened after that?’

Wade quits his fussing and sits back on his heels, looking everywhere but Peter’s face. He’s been waiting for this, but he hoped it would take a little longer for Peter to get to the asking stage.

We could just make something up.

No. We can’t lie to Peter. He’ll see right through us, and even if he doesn’t he’ll find out eventually. We have to tell him the truth.

‘Wade?’ says Peter softly.

‘I—’ Wade cuts himself off and swallows. ‘I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. There were nine of them still in fighting shape.’ He pauses, swallows again, works his jaw for several moments. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and then he finally turns his gaze on Peter again, because he has to be honest about this, no matter how brutal it is. ‘I killed them. All of them. Shot some, stabbed the rest. It was quick, relatively speaking. I had to get them out of the way so I could get you to safety.’ Wade pauses again, but when Peter doesn’t say anything he barrels on. ‘When they were all dead, the kid from before showed up, the one who ran away when we got there. I got him to tell me that they were with the Anti-Mutant Defence League. Then I let him go.’

Finally, Peter speaks. ‘But you killed all the others.’

Wade shrugs. ‘Some of the ones we’d already knocked out, they might still be alive. I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t rightly give a shit.’

It’s Peter’s turn to look away now, pained expression on his face. ‘So after everything, you still don’t get it.’

Anger flares up in Wade’s stomach, crushing his lungs and tearing his heart in two. He gets to his feet before he even knows he’s doing it. ‘No, you don’t get it!’ he growls through gritted teeth, and it’s all he can do not to shout. ‘I didn’t know if you were even alive, okay? I just knew that if there was any chance of saving you, any at all, I had to take it. You don’t understand, Peter! If I lost you, if I let you die when there was something I could do to prevent it, I—’ Wade bites his lip furiously and runs a hand across his scalp. ‘I couldn’t live. Okay? I couldn’t fucking live knowing that I let a light like yours go out of this world, and I would have to! Don’t you see that? I would have to live with the guilt and the heartache and all of it, knowing that you were gone, because I. Can’t. Fucking. Die! And I couldn’t cope with that.’

They stare at each other for several long moments. Wade can’t tell what Peter’s thinking, doesn’t know what’s going on behind those wide hazel eyes. In the end, Wade looks away in defeat.

‘I’ll go,’ he says softly, and all the fight has gone out of him. ‘You can stay here as long as you need to, there’s enough Mexican food and Chinese take-out in the mini fridge to feed a normal person for a week, so . . . I’ll just go.’ He starts to turn away.

‘Wade.’ Peter’s tone is firm, almost commanding, and Wade turns back to face him despite his better judgment. ‘You’re not going anywhere. Come on, come here.’

Like a moth to a flame, Wade is drawn helplessly back to Peter’s side. He crouches next to him, feeling equal parts trepidation and relief as Peter reaches for his hand and grasps it firmly in his own. He scoots closer to the wall and lifts the covers. ‘Here, get in.’

Carefully, Wade slides in next to him, pulling the covers over them both. Peter places Wade’s scarred hand on his smooth, bare chest, right above his heart.

‘I’m sorry,’ says Peter at last. ‘I have no right to judge you for doing what you felt was necessary, I just . . .’ He sighs. ‘Too many people have died because of me. My uncle? I could have stopped the man who killed him before he ever got that far and I didn’t. Gwen was kidnapped and murdered by one of my enemies and I couldn’t save her. That kind of guilt, it . . . It can make a person a little crazy, I guess. I don’t want to be responsible for any more deaths.’

‘Well, you’re not,’ Wade says firmly. ‘Those fuckers chose to attack us. They lured us there, and they had every intention of killing us. You’re not responsible for them. The assholes who sent them down that alley are. The AMDL are to blame for their deaths, and I guess I am too, to an extent. But certainly not you. None of this shit is on you, baby boy. None of it.’

Peter nods. ‘Yeah, I know. I know that, rationally. Anyway, I’m sorry.’ He turns his head and meets Wade’s gaze. ‘And I’m grateful. You saved my life, again, and you put me back together. So thank you.’

Wade feels Peter’s heartbeat under his palm. It’s strong and healthy, pumping blood and life through Peter’s body, and Wade feels something tighten in his own chest. When he speaks, he thinks his voice sounds strained. ‘Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re alive.’

Peter smiles, eyes glinting in the early morning light seeping in through the windows. ‘Kiss me?’ he asks softly, and Wade does.