Wanda/Karen Page/Frank Castle

*** I own nothing. I'm just having fun. ***

A/N: I had this written ages ago and forgot to post it. My bad.

It's a stupid idea for her to be roaming around the streets of New York City, especially alone and in the middle of the night, but Wanda is tired and heartsick and wants to be lost. She misses her brother, his absence leaves an angry, burning hole in her chest, and she can't help but wish she had joined him when he died. Life without him is proving to be too painful for her to take.

The Avengers have good intentions but their care wears on her, depending on them after so long hating their very existence leaves her feeling strange, uncomfortable in her own skin. After today, she needed to get away, get some distance, so here she is, wandering neighborhoods as just another silent shadow.

The woman walking in was tall and slender, blonde hair like silk spilling over her shoulders, and even in her grief Wanda couldn't help but notice. How could she not? Her smile was warm and inviting, and everything Wanda wasn't and might never be. Not now.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Romanoff." Wanda watched her shake Natasha's hand, wondered why they had picked this woman to write about them. She watched the woman settle in the chair across from them, her and Vision, perched nervously on a couch.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Page," Vision said smoothly.

"Oh! Well, it's nice to meet you too. I have to admit, you're not what I was expecting when they told me who I'd be interviewing."

"I expect I'll differ from most people's expectations. My hope is that this interview will set the public's minds at ease."

"That's our goal." Her voice was sweet, but Wanda could hear the steel behind it, having spent the entirety of her life listening for the danger that lurked behind kind smiles.

"Why you?" she blurted, not caring how rude she was being, not registering the way the woman's eyes widened.

"Why not?" was all she received in answer.

The area she's in now doesn't look much like Novi Grad, but it has the same feel to it, the same desperate edge, and she finds comfort in the similarity.

Her arm itches where the first of her two soul marks had Flared earlier in the day. The reporter, Karen Page, her soul mate. Her soul mate who hadn't even stuck around to talk afterwards, who hadn't acknowledged their bond even once, who must've felt her own mark Flare, but decided to ignore it and her, and walk away when the very awkward interview was done. Her arm itches and she wishes she could ignore it, but it's persistent and isn't leaving her alone anytime soon.

Maybe that's why she has two soul marks. Maybe she was destined to be rejected. Wanda has never considered herself fanciful, but a small part of her always imagined finding her two soul mates, two people who loved her and would never leave her alone, so this hurts probably more than it should. But then, she has always been a greedy girl.

She wraps her arms around herself as she wanders, trying to clear her head, but Pietro is all she can think of, guilt and loss weighing heavy on her heart.

"Wanda?"

She stops short at the sound of her name, spins around to see the reporter coming up behind her. She's beautiful even under the dim streetlights, and Wanda wishes she was dressed nicer, wishes she didn't look as pale and tired as she knows she does, wishes she could compare.

"What are you doing out here so late?" the woman asks. She should call her Karen. She remembers her name, couldn't forget it now if she tried. There are so many things she wishes she could forget.

"Why do you care?" she says, wincing inwardly at her own tone. Why would this woman want anything to do with her? She's all rage and pain and no one in their right mind would want to deal with it. She is broken, so broken.

But Karen looks at her with empathy and kindness, and Wanda doesn't know what to do with that.

"It's dangerous out here," Karen says, and Wanda laughs bitterly.

"I am dangerous. Haven't you heard? I destroyed a city, killed my own brother. I'm lucky they haven't put me down like an animal," she says, and realizes it's the truth. She knows she is fortunate the Avengers have vouched for her and taken responsibility for her. She doesn't know if she feels lucky, though.

"Are you going to hurt me? Gonna attack anyone else?" Karen asks. She looks honestly curious.

"No."

"Then you're not all that dangerous right now, are you?" She smiles, just a quirk of her lips, and Wanda can't look away.

"Why did you leave?" she asks. Karen doesn't pretend to misunderstand.

"I didn't know what to say. Needed time to think," she says.

"And you've thought about it now?" Wanda tried to sound like she doesn't care, knows she fails.

"Yeah, I have. It was hard to find my second soul mate and realize she's just as broken as the first one. Makes you wonder what kind of person you are, you know?"

Wanda is dumbfounded.

"You have two soul mates as well?" she asks slowly.

They stare at each other wordlessly.

"This the girl that caused all that trouble in Sokovia?" comes a rough voice from the shadows, startling her. Wanda knows who this man is when he steps out of the shadows holding a gun, the skull standing out starkly on his chest. His face is everywhere, his eyes burning with the same rage she feels inside herself.

"The Punisher," she whispers. He watches her, and she knows he's waiting for her to make a move, waiting for the moment he needs to protect people from her. He has no idea.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asks him, and his scowl deepens. Karen shoots the man a quick look, unreadable, and Wanda can see the tension in her even in her peripheral vision.

"Gonna have to give me a reason," he says, holstering his gun.

Wanda's second soul mark Flares and she crumbles inside just a little bit more. Her second soul mate should be putting a bullet between her eyes right now, she knows this, and how wrong is it of her to wish he would?

"You're the Punisher. I killed people," she says. "I almost helped to destroy the world. Don't I deserve to die?"

"Not gonna kill one of my soul mates just 'cause she made some mistakes," he says gruffly. "Revenge and me go way back."

"Who?" She can barely get the word out, can barely speak. The knowledge is there, her heart is full with it, but she needs to hear it to make it real.

"Karen. Uh, she's my other." He takes her hand, or she takes his, Wanda isn't sure. They move in unison, already in tune with each other. Her heart aches. "So I guess we all belong together," he says, uncomfortable.

Karen is smiling, though, and she reaches a hand out to Wanda, who looks at it blankly before slowly reaching back. Karen's smile only grows when their fingers finally touch, and she pulls Wanda into them. Wanda doesn't fight it, wants this acceptance more than anything, needs to belong with someone now that she has lost her entire world.

The Punisher clasps her other hand tightly in callused fingers and looks at her with a gaze that offers not just acceptance but understanding. She cannot look away, and doesn't want to.

"Call me Frank. None of that 'Punisher' crap, okay?"

Wanda nods because she doesn't trust her voice right now. Her throat, her chest, her entire being, is taut with emotion.

"It's gonna be okay, Wanda," Karen says. Wanda knows she doesn't deserve the kindness in Karen's voice, doesn't deserve any of this, but she wants it all the same.