Sarah M. & Wade | Flight Home (backdated)

[x-deadpool.livejournal.com]

On the flight home, Wade and Sarah M. chat.


They were halfway through one of the longest uninterrupted flights Wade had ever subjected himself to and he was bored out his ever loving mind. Twitchy didn't even begin to cover how he was feeling at the moment. The kids were mostly asleep and so was Marie-Ange. He couldn't blame her. If he'd been able to, he would've stayed asleep as well. But his internal clock and his heightened paranoia combined to make it essentially impossible for him to keep his eyes closed any longer.

Shifting a bit, he moved out from under Marie-Ange, made sure she had her pillow and that the blanket they'd been sharing was covering her, and then he started pacing - quietly. He didn't want to wake anyone who wasn't already awake, after all.

A few "beds" back, Sarah sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, then legs stretched out. She flopped quietly backward, trying to get comfortable. She was sore and antsy, and despite her exhaustion, just could not manage to sleep on the plane. She looked up at Wade's approaching form, nodding silently in greeting.

"Hey," Wade said, keeping his voice down. "Shouldn't you be passed out or something?" He was pretty sure she hadn't been asleep when he'd passed out and that had been at least ten hours ago. He knew he still felt like death warmed over, so he could only guess what Sarah might feel like. It wasn't really all that great a thing to imagine.

"I don't fly well," Sarah offered as explanation, and sat back up on the bed. "My healing factor is this close to telling me to go fuck myself, and now, every time I close my eyes I feel like I'm falling." It wasn't a confession she would have made to just anyone, especially the last part.

Settling almost gingerly into the seat beside her, Wade nodded. "Uh huh - that first part I definitely get." At least Sarah didn't have to deal with cancer on top of her healing factor. "I died one and a half times in Genosha. In like. One week. Not a very good average. I'm pretty sure I'll be avoiding that country for like. The rest of my life."

"I'm just writing off the whole damn continent." Other than leaving Remy for dead, which had been incredibly satisfying, there hadn't been much good to come out of the whole lot of Africa. She stopped for a moment, quiet. "I died once. Turns out that I had an extra heart that picked up where the other left off."

"Dying sucks," Wade said with feeling, figuring only somebody else with a healing factor strong enough to bring them back would really get it. Then he tilted his head to the side a little and asked, "Did you really have a second heart, or did you regrow the first?"

"I have no idea. I used to tune out the medlab staff as soon as they started talking." Sarah chuckled, her throat still scratchy and raw from the last few days. "Probably regrew. That's why later I got kidnapped and used as a organ farm. That was unpleasant."

"Remind me to never do that," Wade said, expression serious. He paused for a few moments, shifting until he could stretch his arms over his head, then twist a bit in his seat. His holsters creaked, moving with him as he asked, "Are they dead now? The people who farmed you?"

"Yeah." Sarah looked over her shoulder to the back of the plane, almost instinctively. "Not that I had much part in that. I was too busy holding myself together."

Wade shrugged. "Least I don't have to put them on my list of people I'm gonna kill eventually." He figured once he got back to the States, if things went according to plan, that list was going to wind up getting pretty long in a relatively short period of time.

"While I'm flattered that you would consider killing people on my behalf, I prefer getting my own hands dirty." Sarah smiled faintly, flexing her bone-covered hands to ease the itch of healing skin. "I'm strange like that."

"Nah," Wade said, quirking a smile. "I wouldn't've expected any different. It's just something I like to have a running list of, eh? In case I ever get the chance. Mostly, I like letting ladies do their own killing if they want."

"I like that about you." She made no effort to clarify whether what she referred to was the kill-list, or the fact that he would let her do her own killing. If pressed, she would probably choose the latter. Sometimes you just needed to get a little blood on your hands.

Wade's smile stayed in place even as he sank back against the cushions a little. His mind was still going a mile a minute, but his body was lagging again. He had bruises that'd turned up even after the healer'd finished with him. It was his cancer and he knew that. Which didn't change the fact that it was irritating as all hell. "And here I thought you liked me for my manly physique."

Sarah snorted softly. "I'm surrounded by guys with "manly physiques". If that was what did it for me, I would have to like everyone, and that sounds like a horrible idea."

"Pssh. Logic," Wade said, waving his hand as though he were erasing that part of the conversation. "We should spar when we get home. After I no longer feel like death. Thoughts?"

"I think I love you. In some way that doesn't entail your girlfriend trip-wiring my apartment." God she was so tired. She looked at him and added very seriously, "But the rule is you aren't allowed to hold back. You aren't going to hurt me, and I think you already know that."

"I won't pull my punches," Wade agreed, nodding. "And I won't do anything different from if I was fighting a guy. But it's just sparring, so I don't think I'll be pulling out the guns and the knives. Deal?"

Sarah's smile was genuine in the low light of the plane. "Deal."