AN: Dedicated to @Nikkimils for voting on my story! Hope all of you are enjoying it so far.

My hands trembled lightly. I wrung my hands, rubbing my thumb against the palm each time. I paced around the hall, lost in thought. All I could hear was the screaming from that day in Chicago. The violence. The slaughter. The anguished cries of the lost. It rang through my head like a horrible little lullaby, hummed to the tunes of destruction. I sighed. I told myself I wouldn't focus on my internal struggle, but the thoughts always lingered in the back of my mind. I relived the scene every day.

Everything was only going to get worse.

I shook myself out of my thoughts and walked towards Peter's room. It was time to finally confront my cousin. We needed to talk. One on one. No avoiding it anymore.

I passed by a few students on the way and put on a smile for them. Their eyes were bright, full of knowledge and slight fear for the future. Behind that fear was a gleam in the iris of their beautiful eyes. Hope. Even if they feared their future would hold treacherous events, they knew they could count on us heroes to make sure they would make it out safely. I slowly came up to a stop when I noticed Peter's door was ajar. I quietly stepped forward and listened in on what he was doing.

A man's voice played on the speaker of a laptop, "There's so many stories where some brave hero decides to give their life to save the day. And because of their sacrifice, the good guys win, the survivors all cheer, and everybody lives happily ever after. But the hero...never gets to see that ending. They'll never know if their sacrifice actually made a difference. They'll never know if the day was really saved. In the end, they just have to have faith. Ain't that a bitch."

Peter sniffled and wiped his watery brown eyes. He put his hand over his mouth after he clicked to pause the end of the video. "I'm finally able to catch up on this show, and this happens?" He whispered to himself in disbelief. He rubbed his tear-ridden face with his gray long sleeved shirt. Peter stopped when he felt the texture of his robotic hand and stared at it for a few seconds. A broken expression swept across his features and he let out another sob. He flexed the metal fingers slowly, then clenched his hand into a fist.

I knocked on the door softly and called out, "Peter?" I pushed the door open enough to pop my head into the room. I almost choked when I inhaled the foul stench of pure dude. That's when I grimly remembered he hadn't left the room in a while.

Peter was wrapped up in a big gray blanket on his bed like a Jedi master. He closed the laptop that lay in front of him and wiped away his tears quickly. He sniffled a few times and wiped his running nose with the back of his hand. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk..." I sat down on the cushiony bed before he could refuse.

Peter didn't move a muscle and stared down at the plain comforter. His swollen eyes fixated on the fabric as he mustered up the words, "I told you I don't want to talk about it."

My hazel eyes locked on his dark state and I frowned. This conversation was not going to be easy. I played with my thumbs and scratched at some peeling skin. I insisted, "Peter, please. You need to talk about it. You need to confide in me. I was in this kind of situation before and you remember what you did? You-"

He cut me off and spoke softly, as if the memory soothed him, "I climbed into a vent and landed in your room. I remember."

The corners of my mouth lifted a bit and I chuckled, "You did everything you could to make me feel better." I restrained myself from reaching over to him. If I tried to do anything, he might stop me altogether. Keep calm and collected. I continued to explain, "I know what it feels like, Peter. To have your head tricked into seeing something. To have doubts and sorrows. To see events so frightening that it throws you off. I'm going through this everyday."

I inhaled sharply and almost coughed. I closed my eyes for a second. "I've said this a thousand times. I've thought of it twice as much. We're bound to lose people. This is a war. I'm so sorry th-"

"I saw Gwen..." Peter interjected. I dropped what I was going to say and became silent. Peter set the blanket to the side and hunched over, rubbing his face a few times before he continued. "I saw her and Uncle Ben. I physically touched them. It was so real..." He stopped rubbing his face and swallowed hard. His watery eyes glanced up at mine, broken and full of remorse. "I watched them die all over again. Gwen was right. I can't be the Amazing Spider-Man if I can't even save the ones I love..."

"That isn't your fault, Peter."

He wiped his eyes with the front end of his shirt. His sniffles became more erratic as he broke out into a sob. "You don't know! I...I was the reason Uncle Ben was out that night. If I just didn't leave, he wouldn't have gotten killed. And Gwen...oh my god, Gwen...I could've saved her. I could've. I just wasn't fast enough."

My heart snapped in two. Peter hadn't just started living with this. He's lived with the pain and the regret since they died. I don't blame him. Deaths aren't taken lightly all the time. Sometimes, they creep into everything. Thoughts. Dreams. Anything they can get their inky black hands on. He's been going through what I have this whole time.

I opened my arms and motioned for him to come to me. After a few seconds, he complied and hugged me tightly. He sobbed with each breath he took, his whole body shaking each time. I rubbed his back gently to comfort him. I rested my head on his shoulder and quietly declared, "Even if you could have saved them, maybe it just wasn't meant to happen. Everything happens for a reason. Aunt May always says that."

He sucked in a sharp breath and buried his head into my collar bone as he nodded. "Even after everything that's happened, Aunt May is still standing strong."

"Which is how both of us should be. We shouldn't worry on what might have been. Let's focus on what we can do better in the future." Taking that advice would be tough to implement. Focusing on the future took a lot of will power and a lot of concentration. "I know things won't get better right away, but there is hope. There always is."

Peter sniffled and stifled a sob. Tears softly fell onto my shoulder and soaked through my shirt. He inhaled deeply and spoke in a nasally voice, "Thanks, Lilly. For being here, and all."

"Any time." I sighed contently and smiled a bit. He backed out of the embrace and I brushed some of his tears away. I couldn't stand to see him this way. I was just glad that this took his mind off of his arm. If he thought about that, it would be much worse. I patted his shoulders with both hands. "I know exactly what will cheer you up."

I dragged Peter to the depths of New York City. It had taken a few hours to get here and not be noticed, but it would all be worth it. Bright lights, bustling life, busy traffic, not a lot had changed since the government was taken down. New York was still the city that never sleeps. My cousin moved as slow as a sloth, so I hooked my arm with his and pulled him along.

We ended up in a run down apartment building. Music blasted from the first floor. Someone was having a party. Trash littered the ground and mysterious stains covered the hardwood floor of the hall. We pushed passed the mingling partiers, and I tried not to inhale the heavy stench of alcohol and sweat that hung in the air. Peter ducked his head down and he couldn't help but to look at the glove that covered his left robotic hand.

I tugged him up a couple flights of stairs and wound up at a door. The walls on the hall were an awful old yellow floral design. They were faded and covered in gunk from all of the years they've been up on the walls. I cringed. Didn't like it the first time I saw it, and I still don't. It was gross. At least the floor was clean on this story of the building. The whole hall smelled of dirty diapers and ungroomed pets. Some of the neighbors never had enough money to do a lot in their lives. I've tried helping them out before, but they didn't want the help. I knocked on the scratched up door in front of us.

Peter shifted his weight to his other leg and looked around hesitantly. He knit his eyebrows together and sent me a questioning look. His brown eyes shown how genuinely confused he was. "Who lives here? It's like Edgar the Bug from Men in Black took over this place."

"You don't know the half of it." I unhooked my arm with Peter's and knocked on the door once more. I shoved my hands in my black jacket pockets and waited patiently for another moment. "I brought you here to make you feel better."

"By letting me catch a disease? Great present, Lil," Peter joked and nudged me a little. He didn't laugh, but just having him joke around was enough. It was an improvement from earlier.

I rolled my eyes. "I see that you still have your sass." I pursed my lips and was losing patience. I knew he was home. Was he too lazy to open the damn door? I didn't have a key.

"Can't get rid of such a good talent."

I chuckled to myself before banging on the door. If that wouldn't get his attention, there was only one last resort, and I didn't want to stoop down that low. Not only was it demeaning, but it also meant getting his hopes up, and I didn't want to do that.

Deadpool swung the door open halfway and pointed a pistol at me. I stayed still and smiled at him. He tilted his head a bit and happily declared, "Lilly? Got to say, that's a nice surprise. After last time, I didn't thin-" Once Wade saw Peter, he immediately paused. Deadpool made a quiet high pitched noise and cleared his throat. "And you brought Spidey. This surprise got a million times better, no offense."

I raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the gun that was still pointed at me. "Are you going to invite us in, or are you going to shoot me?"

"That would be a pretty twisted payback for the times you've shot me, but sadly, no. I'm not going to." Wade put the gun in his gun holster and walked inside. He put his arms up to show us the place and turned around to face us. "Welcome to casa de Wade!"

Seeing the first impression that came to Peter's face was priceless. He attempted not to grimace, but there was no point. He had to. He couldn't help it.

At least one panel on every wall was broken to show the wooden structure. Magazines and books littered the corners of the room and the coffee table. A pale brown leather chair sat in front of a television screen. On the wooden side table was a lamp and a wired telephone. Three sets of chairs were on both sides of the television to allow space for the rare guests Wade had. A few neon signs hung high on the sickly yellow walls. Boxes, a table, and a bookshelf were pushed against opposite walls. Dark red rugs covered the brown hardwood floors. A disgusting bathroom was on the left, and thankfully, the door was closed. The kitchen was next to that, but the lights weren't on in there, so we couldn't see much. The overwhelming smell of stale pizza emanated from it. Wade's room hung to the right, but the door was closed.

"Whaddya think?" Wade questioned as he looked at Peter.

Peter immediately covered up his facial expression and shrugged. "It's a man cave, all right. Surprisingly one of the nicest I've seen." He wished that was a lie, but the only man cave he was in was comprised of a few cardboard boxes for furniture and a floor television.

"Really?" Wade straightened himself out and fixed the back of his mask.

The next second, he spoke in a high pitched voice, "He likes our crib!"

Wade relaxed and spoke in a deep, low voice, "I'm surprised you've learned what the word crib means."

In his regular voice, he added on, "We explained it to him last time. Come on. Keep up."

Peter leaned over to me and quietly asked, "Is he okay?"

I shrugged. "Probably not. This is Wade we're talking about."

Deadpool snapped out of it and shook himself out of his daze. "Beer?"

I nodded before Peter could answer. Wade always became more laid back while drinking. Even if it didn't effect his system that much, it was the nostalgic feeling of getting intoxicated a little bit that made him chill. He came back with three beers and we cracked them open as we sat down. The chairs were worn in, but pretty comfortable.

Peter brushed off the weirdness from earlier and found this the perfect opportunity to change the conversation. As long as it wasn't a topic about himself, Peter was content. "How did you two meet, Wade?"

Deadpool moved his mask up to above his lips so he could relax. He put a leg over one of the arm rests and sat back in his chair. He cleared his throat after taking a swig of his drink, and began in a sing-song tune, "It all started on a hot summer night, had me a blast..."

I corrected him playfully, "It was winter."

"I met a girl, crazy for me."

"Tell me more, tell me more, did you get very far?" Peter enunciated every word in a half-joking, half-mocking fashion. I glared at Wade for a second before he could answer. This was an opportunity Wade felt compelled to answer truthfully. Perfect timing to embarrass me.

Wade acknowledged my glare and kept his cool. He scoffed and pointed his pistol lazily over at his television set. "That fucking song is stuck in my head. It's catchy, but I almost shot my TV when it came on."

"So what happened?" Peter took a sip of the beer. He stuffed his left hand in his gray sweater's pocket to keep it out of sight.

"I saw her fighting some hot chick, and well," Wade leaned closer to Peter to give him a good look, "you don't break up a chick fight."

I scoffed as I remembered that night. Cold snowy night. Blood stained the ally way snow. The girl I fought had a few guns with her and I managed to escape with one gun shot wound. She was some spy sent from an important political figure that I crossed. I don't want to get into those details. That's a whole other story itself. I added onto the conversation, "So he stood on the sideline and gave commentary the whole time."

Deadpool gave a hearty laugh and took another drink. Some of the beer slipped down the corner of his mouth as he spoke in excitement, "It annoyed Lilly so much that she sucker punched the girl in the jaw. Complete K.O. It was hot."

I ignored the last statement. "Then he bought me a drink." The dive bar was only quiet that night because it was midnight. All the drunks had nearly gone home before last call. Smelled of piss and beer in there, but what was new in a run down bar?

"When I heard her name for the first time, I realized she was the same woman Logan was trying to keep me away from." Wade set his pistol down on the side table and finished off the bottle in his other hand. "Needless to say, I talked her ear off that night."

I finished the story in one quick statement, "And I stabbed him before I left."

Peter almost choked on his beer and coughed for a second. He collected himself fully before blurting out, "You what?"

I saw Peter's concern and had to emphasize. I couldn't let him think I'd stab anybody I meet. "I knew he had the healing factor. Logan warned me about him." Plus, it was fun to stab Wade after he hit on me for the tenth time. A little satisfaction goes a long way. I moved my black curly hair to one side and finished the rest of my bottle. "We live in the same city. It's hard not to run into people."

Deadpool turned to the wall ahead of us, pointed at it, and started speaking, "Psst. You! Yeah, you reading! Echo over here brought up a good point. It's strange how all of these heroes live in the same city, but we hardly run into each other!"

Wade agreed in a small, high pitched voice, "Yeah, what he said!"

Deadpool set the bottle down on the table and declared lowly, "Maybe the writer is saving that for the next book."

Wade finished off his conversation by rubbing his melted chin in contemplation. "Interesting..." He shook his finger at the wall and laughed deeply, "You guys are in for a treat."

"Is he..." Peter trailed off in confusion.

I rubbed my temples and finished his statement, "Talking to a wall? Yeah..."

Wade talked our ears off for the next hour. Each of us had a drink and shared stories in between fits of laughter. There was one point where Peter was telling a story and Wade listened intently, hanging on to his every word. It was definitely a sight to see. Soon, it started getting really late and we had to leave. We bid our goodbyes until next time and walked out of the filthy apartment.

I shivered and grimaced, "I can't stand to be in that germ infested place."

"If I took a black light to the place, it would probably all light up," He cringed at the mere thought of it and shook himself out. "He's not that bad of a guy, though."

"Yeah, I know. He has his moments..."

Peter stopped me at the foot of the stairs and hugged me. He rested his head on my shoulder, even though he had to lean down to do it. Peter waited a long few seconds before he declared quietly, "Thanks for everything."

"Anytime, Peter. I'll always be here for you."