Living With Secrets

Missing Persons Reports

**A/N: Hey, all, I've been swamped with homework lately, but I'm getting back on top of things now! Enjoy the new chapter, lots of angst coming up, and I'll see y'all again on Tuesday**

Tony burst through the door, rushing into the situation room. He'd hopped a plane home just as soon as the meeting had ended. Pepper was right on his heels.

"What the hell did Wilson say when he called you?"

Natasha looked up from the laptop she was typing on. "He said Peter wasn't at the dorms and hadn't been there all day. He left here around 4, so he should have been there around 7 or 8."

"Did he take the car?"

"Nope," Clint popped his 'p' and looked up from the maps Rhodey had spread on the table. "He webbed."

Tony sighed heavily. "Why is it always him..."

Pepper was surprisingly more on top of things. "What else? Have you guys talked to MJ and Ned?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "I called Ned, he said he hasn't talked to Pete since last week, and MJ said they had a Skype date last night, but he never picked up."

"Shit," Tony swore quietly. Peter never missed his Skype dates, something was really wrong. "What else did Wade say when he called you?"

"Nothing," Natasha sighed. "He just said that he was going to go looking for him when he hung up."

"Wait, didn't Peter say that guy who was beating the shit out of Wade was from MIT?" Steve chimed in, drawing the whole groups' gaze to him. "And that same guy wanted Peter dead?"

"Shit, I didn't even think of that." As soon as the team realized what Steve was implying, they began to panic, and each one changed directions. Rhodey shoved the maps aside, and Clint started pulling up the MIT faculty page on the desktop connected to the projector so the whole room could see their suspect list.

"I'm calling Wade," Natasha muttered, pulling out her phone. "Let's get a name."

The phone rang, and Natasha rolled her eyes. After a few rings, her look of concern fell, and after the 7th ring, she began to pace. The sound of the voicemail came over the phone, and everyone around the table looked at one another. "Fuck."

"Should we file a missing persons report?" Clint's joke was laced with sadness. Despite his attempt to lighten the mood in the room, it was still suffocatingly depressing.

"Oh, Peter," Pepper murmured. 

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Wade came to in a strange cell. It was clean, like, really clean. It was massive, nearly 20 feet up, and 10 feet across. The door was made of plexi-glass with a line of small, 1 inch holes across the top and bottom. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all steel, cold and smooth to the touch.

The blond teen looked down at himself, noticing he was in the jeans and shirt he was wearing the night before. There was a ringing in his ears, and he brought his hand up to the side of his head, his fingertips coming away with thick, sticky blood.

The last thing Wade Wilson remembered was walking around campus, looking for someone. Why was I outs- Wade remembered now. Peter was still missing. Someone had attacked Wade while he was looking for Peter!

"Peter?" The call echoes in the hall, a whisper of hope. Whoever grabbed Wade might have Peter, too!

Wade racked his brain, trying desperately to remember who had grabbed him.

Fuck, my brain hurts, the teen thought savagely. He just needed to remember something, anything!

He had been hit from behind... In front of the library...

Nothing was there, nothing at all. His mind was blank after that.

Wade sat down in the cell heavily, his back up against cold metal. It felt good in a way, having that cool surface behind him. It was oddly calming right now.

No use panicking, focus on now. How do I get out? Wade looked around the cell, taking a mental stock of everything around him. There was no way he'd be able to climb the high walls, and even if he did, the ceiling was a solid, smooth sheet. No spaces or panels to pull apart. The door was deceptively thick, almost a full inch thick. Wade vaguely remembered a cell just like this from when he was a kid.

I'm in the Doc's lab, the teen thought, looking down the hall as far as he could see.

When Wade had been taken from his foster home, he'd been put in a lab, almost identical to this one. The head scientist, a man Wade only ever heard referred to as 'Doc', was incredibly cruel, and responsible for Wade's powers. A good outcome for a bad situation, right?

If he was back in that- no! It couldn't be! The lab had burned down, its how Wade had escaped. Was he still on campus even? Something in the back of Wade's mind said he was still on campus. After all, didn't that guy say-

Oh, shit. My professor is the Doc. Wade's mind went blank and the only think he could think of was his professor for physics, Octavius. He's the one who hired him to kill Peter, he'd the one who had him captured last Saturday, he was the one who gave Wade his powers in the first place.

Okay, I can work with this, Wade stood up shakily, pacing up and down his cell. He knew he would have to be strong for whatever came next, and the only way to do that was to figure out where he was and what to do next. I'm definitely still on MIT campus if it's Professor Octavius. I know it has to be a secret lab, so it's probably in a basement or in an abandoned part of a building. How do I get out, though?

Wade checked his pockets for his phone, a vain last hope for contacting Peter's family, Weasel, anyone who could help him get out. They must have taken it when they knocked him out, though, because it wasn't in his pocket.

Wade paced. He was about to sit back down when there was the sound of metal scraping, and Wade jumped around. There was a small opening in the wall which hadn't been there before.

The blond scurried over, looking through the bag in the small crevice of the wall that had just opened up. Gauze, a sewing kit, medical tape, a bottle of iodine, and a pocket knife. A first aid kit, but with a dark, back-woods-medical-care kind of feel to it.

"What do I do with this?" Wade's voice was hoarse from not being used, and he coughed the itch in his throat away.

A cackle of static indicated that a speaker was flipped on, and Wade looked up at the ceiling.

"Excellent question, Mr. Wilson! I have a feeling you'll need it soon enough. Maybe this will clue you in."

There was another sound of metal scraping, and Wade was surprised to see the ceiling pulling apart, and a sling lowered into the cell with him. It became apparent to the blond that there was a person wrapped in the sling, and he ran forward only to see the familiar red and blue suit.

"Spidey, you okay?" There was no reply. The sling suddenly opened up, and Spiderman tumbled to the floor, Wade rushing to catch him. There was nothing else, no more metal noises and no more static voice, just the sound of the sling being lifted back to the ceiling, and then it closed back up.

"Spidey, you gotta get up, buddy," Wade whispered, examining his friends limp form. There were splotches of blood all over the suit, trailing from the superhero's mask to his left leg, where Wade was sure there would be a gash in his thigh.

"Spiderman, I need you to get up." Wade already knew, though. He knew Spiderman was passed out and there was no hope of waking up until he took care of some of this damage.

"I'm sorry, man," Wade mumbled, his hands trembling as he slid his fingers underneath his friend's mask. "I need to see if you have any head lacs."

He peeled the spandex back slowly, exposing a face he knew all too well.

"Peter?"