thirty-eight.
It didn't take the merc long to arrive at the apartment, and when he was greeted by a less-than-friendly looking redhead, he assumed that she had been the woman on the phone and decided that she wasn't the kind of person he wanted to get into a fight with.
And she greeted him with much less than a hello, instead answering the door with a glare and a sharp snap of, "What have you done to my son?"
He said nothing, instead moving past Nat and into the apartment. He looked back and forth before turning towards the bedroom. When he spotted Peter curled up under the blankets, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took Peter's hand into his gloved ones. He watched Peter's face. He knew that Widow chick was right behind him somewhere, as he could feel her eyes judging him. He pretended not to notice and brushed his thumb across Peter's hand before pausing to look at the irritated scratch on his wrist.
For once in his life, it seemed, he was quiet. And then he spoke, in a hushed tone to the redhead, wherever she stood. "Did he do this to himself?"
The silence that stretched on between them held worry, fear, uncertainty. She cleared her throat and he could hear her shifting her weight around. "I don't know. He'd been sleeping and I went to make a drink in the kitchen... He came out, couldn't breathe... He looked afraid of it."
"Why do you think I did something to him?" Wade asked as he brushed Peter's hair out of his face. He could feel Peter's pulse beating steadily at his temple.
He heard the shuffling of feet in the room, and then the Widow was standing over them. "He was sick yesterday. So sick that he came home from school, and I don't think he's ever been that sick in his life, and... And I know he's been with you. I know he leaves campus at lunch and I know that you meet him there, I've seen your texts."
Wade nodded slowly in understanding. "So I'm the obvious suspect... But I would never bring any harm to Peter, I care too much about him."
Widow sounds angry as she speaks. "People like you don't care about people. You care about the job, about the money. You're in it for the glory not for setting the world straight."
Wade looks up at her, his mask concealing the slight shock on his face. He takes a breath and stares into her eyes while she stares back at where she thinks his eyes should be. "Don't you mean, 'people like us'?"
She seems taken aback, and that's good. That's what Wade wants right now. He wants her to feel offended and chided. "For a spy with such extensive training, Madame Widow, your emotions are pretty clear."
"There's no us, I am NOT like you."
He stands, letting Peter's hand slip from his grasp. "Oh, but you are. You're JUST like me. You tell yourself not to get involved with people but you fail, and you play it close to your chest and when something happens to them, because it always does, you blame yourself, because you probably could have saved their lives and saved yourself all the heartache if you'd just listened and stayed away like you're supposed to. But you're selfish, you want to have the things that other people have. You want a regular job, and a family, and a quiet little life with the people that you love but you know that you can't. Your life and your line of work put everyone that you so much as come into contact with in immediate danger, but you lie. You lie to the people around you and to yourself, and you say that they're safe even when you know that you're not." Her chest is rising and falling now, most likely with anger as Wade stands over her spouting all of the truths that she doesn't want to have to listen to.
"You lie because you want the life everyone else gets, but you know you can't have it because of who you are. Because you're dangerous. And you can't make the other dangers in the world go away and one day something or someone is gonna take away that life that you've made... And you'll blame yourself when they get kidnapped, shot, raped, or murdered because you know you could have saved them if you'd done the right thing... If you'd thought once about them and not finally getting what you want. You want husbands and a son, and right now you've got it. But they were each other's husbands first. It was them, not you, and Peter? He may call you Mom but that's as close as you'll get to a son. They made sure of that, didn't they?" Tears were springing into her eyes now, and he was loving every second of it.
"Besides, Madame Widow, you know what happened to the last family you had." He circled her as he spoke, though she stared straight ahead." Or have you forgotten? Should I remind you about what happened to them? To Nikolai? To Alexi?" He paused right behind her and placed his hands on her flat stomach, whispering directly into her ear. "To your child?"
She whipped around to face him, a tear falling down her cheek. "That's enough... You should leave now, before I hurt you." She said quietly, and he laughed softly.
"You really want to do this in front of Peter?"
She looked over her shoulder and there he was, the boy she called her son, staring at them both, now wide awake.