✔ || Peter's Ghost (Spideypool Fan Fiction)

Haunting Wade

[Yellow box]
{White box}

~756 Days After~

Eleanor was never late. She always showed up at the door at eight am sharp, her purple hoodie skewed on her shoulder and her black hair in a messy ponytail. When Peter was around, they'd greet each other with a secret handshake that even Wade wasn't allowed to learn and then she'd go to her biological father for a bear hug. A weekend wasn't much time for lots of fun, but the three of them always made it count. They'd go for walks and play video games and order take-out, and no matter what had gone on during the week, Saturday and Sunday were filled with laughter. Peter would never let it happen any other way.

After Peter left, Deadpool and Ellie sat on the couch staring at the TV, sometimes not watching anything at all. Ellie would order chimichangas and hopelessly beg her dad to eat, though the only response was a blank stare. At first, Deadpool tried to pretend to be okay for her. She was only fifteen when it happened, and though she was old enough to understand the permanency of it, she would sometimes talk of Peter as if he was still alive. Deadpool tried to pretend it didn't hurt every time she called for Papa instead of Dad to help with her homework, but he wasn't that good of an actor. Eventually, she just stopped calling for anyone.

Deadpool still tried to pretend that he was okay. When Eleanor walked into the dingy living room, now seventeen and old enough to decide where she lived as far as her dad was concerned, she crossed to him and silently cleaned up the mess of beer bottles and cans as he continued to sit, staring blindly into the distance. After the coffee table--once covered with mugs of tea, newspapers with Peter's photography plastered to the front, and Eleanor's drawings--was cleared of greasy napkins, broken bottles, and crumpled cans, she sat down beside Deadpool and reached to grip his hand.

"Wake up, Dad," she teased halfheartedly.

He made a noise in his throat and forced himself to ask, "How was school?"

She shrugged, "Fine."

"Do you have your nerd stuff ready for college?"

Eleanor had written a detailed paper on the psychology of losing a loved one and what it did to the brain. Peter had turned her into quite the scientist, and it had paid off. She had already been accepted into Yale, Stanford, and Princeton, though she wouldn't graduate for another six months. Deadpool would never tell her--he would never crush her dreams, he was so proud of her for the young woman she'd turned into--but he dreaded the day she left for a fancy university and left him forever. She was all that was left that was sane in his life. Sometimes, he'd see her as the eight-year-old that would share ice cream dinners with him, not the seventeen-year-old who was growing up far too quickly, and he'd feel a spark of feeling deep in his chest. It dissipated almost instantly, but it was there.

The ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "Yeah, Dad. It's all ready."

"Which one are you going to again?"

Eleanor made a face. "I'm not sure yet. They're all pretty great, but I was thinking about maybe..." She trailed off into silence, staring at the dingy carpet.

"What were you thinking about, kiddo?" Deadpool asked.

"Well, I was thinking I should maybe stay in New York. To be closer to family," she said softly.

To be closer to Deadpool, that is. Eleanor would never admit it, but her dad knew that was what she really meant. He was a broken mess, and she was going to try to fix him no matter what it took, even if she had to give up her life.

"No," Deadpool growled quietly. "You're not doing that."

"What?"

"I won't let you," he feigned a wooden smile. "You have dreams to follow and big science people to impress. I'm a grown man, sweetie, I can take care of myself."