Chapter Text
It had been close to eight months since Matt had last seen Wade. Every day he felt the sharp pang of failure. He had let Peter down and broken his promise. He avidly believed the mercenary to be coping, not healing but at the very least coping in the month after they buried Peter. It all fell apart one day when Wade called him sobbing, telling him he needed to reset. Not comprehending what that meant until he heard the hammer being pulled back on Wade's gun. It echoed through the phone even as Matt raced across the rooftops trying to get to him in time. Only after he made it to the blood-spattered rooftop of the former couple's apartment did he discover Deadpool long vanished. He squeezed the bridge of his nose as the sun warmed his skin through the office window.
"Matty you look bad...like much worse than I've ever seen you before," Foggy observed taking in the sallow skin and dark purple circles under his eyes.
Barely stifling a yawn the vigilante simply shrugged, "I have a lot more ground to cover on patrols,"
Everyone had returned to their lives, to their other obligations on a rare occasion The Human Torch or Hawkeye would drop in to watch the city, but both had other teams, other obligations that needed them. He never asked them for help only accepted it when offered, otherwise, he would make his way from Hell's Kitchen outward working to fully terrify any low-level thugs. Having failed to keep Peter's merc grounded he refused to fail the web slinger's beloved city.
"You're gonna kill yourself, Matt," Foggy pushed, "You're still only human,"
Listening to the elevated heart rate and loud respiration of his friend it was clear he was distressed. Setting his jaw gripping his cane tightly he drew in a calming breath through his nose. He forced himself to acknowledge the fact that his friend was only voicing his concerns, being a good friend.
"He wouldn't want you to do this to yourself," his friend continued when Matt didn't lose his temper.
"I know it's not what he would want Foggy, but he's dead... he's dead and Wade is gone and none of those things are things he wanted, so I'm just doing what I can," he sighed heavily.
"Okay, Matty, okay. Just don't forget that I would hate losing you as much as he woulda," he reminded him.
He nodded standing as he made his way into his own office, "I'm trying Foggy, I'm trying,"
Matt had just finished up with a client when his phone rang. He answered it face lighting up at the familiar voice on the other end. His heart warmed hearing the soft breathing and kindhearted voice he had grown to love.
"Matt its May, I was wondering if you would be available to stop by this afternoon, the bank sent some paperwork over I don't quite understand," she asked.
Unable to hold back the smile which spilled over into his voice he replied, "Why certainly, Aunt May, just let me gather Foggy up and make sure I don't have to reschedule any appointments until tomorrow," he smiled.
"Don't put yourselves out now," she fussed.
"Not at all, I miss your perfectly brewed coffee," he assured, "I did say call me at any time for any reason. Besides I would never pass up a chance to visit the prettiest lady in all of Queens," he grinned happily.
She only tutted his comment asking of two thirty would work and to let her know.
A few minutes later Foggy was tied up on the phone, "Uh sorry Matty I can't reschedule but Karen can call you a cab," he continued his conversation.
The attorney grabbed the portable scanner/printer which could transfer paperwork into braille. It was only after he got in the cab he realized that it was unusual for Foggy to turn down a visit to Aunt May's especially since she usually baked up a storm for them whenever they paid her a visit. "I must be tired," he chuckled.
The cabbie asked him if he needed help to the door, in a polite unpressing tone. He only shook his head paying him while tipping generously. Matt genuinely hoped that the cabbie would not get worn down driving in New York.
"Sweetheart, it's so good of you to come by," the elderly lady called cheerily from the doorway.
He walked up to her hugging her tightly to himself, "I missed you, Aunt May," he lifted her slightly unable to contain his joy at having this small link to Peter. Not to mention he greatly enjoyed her company. "So is the bank trying to get one by on my favorite lady," he asked.
"Oh you look tired, Dear," she ran a finger under his eye gently.
"Working late to fight the good fight for the people of Hell's Kitchen," he shrugged.
As she shut the door she hummed, "I'm sure running across rooftops all hours of the night isn't helping too much with that either," pulling out the plate of freshly baked cookies before pouring him a warm cup of coffee.
He had set up the scanner and was running his fingers over the information, brows knit in concentration as he read over the letter. "It says a large deposit was made into your account recently the amount exceeded the banks allowable limit for them to clear it immediately it will clear in a few days," he said consideringly.
"Where did it come from though," she fretted.
"Honestly I don't know but if I was to venture a guess, I would say Wade is making sure you don't want for anything," he shrugged knowing he himself saw to it her bills were always paid under the pretense that it was coming from money Peter left her. "I'll look into it for you though," he patted her hand.
"If it is from Wade could you please tell him to stop by. I worry about him and it would do my heart well to see that he's okay. It would also benefit from knowing you get yourself a full night's sleep Matt dear," she said wryly.
"Yes, mam," he promised, "So Foggy got you to do his dirty work for him, huh," he grinned.
After leaving her house he tapped his way down the street wandering aimlessly searching, occasionally scenting the air ears tuned as he doggedly hunted for any hint of Wade. It was a long time before he picked out the familiar scent of leather and gun oil from a mass of smells as he walked passed a bar. He pushed his red-lensed glasses up on his nose before entering the bar.
"Think you're in the wrong place, Buddy," a voice called from over the bar.
He listened and "saw" the people around him as he approached the bar, "I'm looking for a friend in here," he said.
Another gravelly voice approached from behind him, "You ain't got no friends here, Pretty Boy,"
He placed his hands studiously in front of himself, "Look I'm only trying to find my friend Wade and am not really in the mood to deal with you right now," he growled.
Three more men closed in on him before a drunken voice rang out, "Hey now fellas you don't wanna do that, now," Wade belched wavering. He stood only to stumble and fall over glass shattering as he collapsed.
A round of laughter rang out but still, the group bore down on the attorney, who dodged his attackers leaping onto the bar gracefully, lashing out with a kick connecting with two separate heads before he lighted on the slick surface. There was a momentary pause as the last two men hesitated before jumping him, his fist connecting with the back of one man's head when he flipped off of the surface. Dodging another swing from the last assailant he turned as another man's heavy breath neared his back before he felt the sharp bite of a blade to his back. It was followed by the familiar song of Bea cutting through the air. Matt had to duck to avoid the blade from making contact with him
.
"C'mon Uh D-uh Matt," the merc grabbed the other man by his arm looking over the knife wound.