A/N:
Hey everyone!
So it's been like a long time since I ever posted something on here, but I'm back! For anyone who read my unfinished (and now scrapped) story Deserving and liked my OC, I've got good news! Sandy's back and better than ever (hopefully)! I've altered her backstory because I found a much better place for her in the MCU, and it's right by Frank Castle's side. But I can't officially add him as a character since this is the Avengers archive sadly. :(
I'll preface this by saying that while I'm not writing this as a straight romance, you are absolutely welcome to read between the lines with any and all characters. EDIT: I do have a pairing in mind, but you'll have to wait til the Epilogue to see what it is. This story will focus more on building friendships and dealing with some people' unresolved issues.
That being said, Frank and Sandy will slowly reveal their history, and I've even got a little interlude thing I'll add in later after enough clues have been dropped. But not too many, because even though I have their backstories fully planned out, I haven't quite written that story yet because, well, honestly Endgame and the announcement of The Falcon & The Winter Soldier series made me feel and think a lot of things.
This story is set about a year or so after The Falcon & The Winter Soldier series. Though we have no idea at this point what exactly will happen in the story, I assume Sam takes the Captain America mantle and Bucky sheds the Winter Soldier one. I'm leaving a lot of stuff ambiguous for that very reason.
Also, as a last note, there's a few references to Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. characters and plots, but don't worry too much if you haven't seen them. I'll explain in little details later, and there's gonna be a note at the end of one of the chapters where I go over her basic timeline in regards to AOS story arcs.
Hope you guys like it!
Chapter 1: The Alleyway
"The one in the gray hat. Being really obvious."
Frank Castle keeps his eyes trained on the woman sitting across from him. She's sipping her coffee, but her attention is elsewhere. If they both look, the man will surely spook. Call in more backup if he's not a friendly. Or just plain run if he does need help but is scared they might turn on him. Frank's reputation is, well...
"Doesn't seem particularly scared." The woman now turns her attention fully back to Frank. "More sugar, dear?"
Frank blanches, both to being called "dear" and the suggestion of putting any amount of sugar into his coffee. She limited her visible amusement to only her eyes. He's barely able to resist an eye roll when she dumps another packet into hers.
"You're gonna crash later, you know that?" It's his turn to keep watch. He spots the man she mentioned. A brief glance as to not raise suspicion. But it's enough for Frank. "He's a tail."
"Likely not the one who contacted us."
Frank hums in agreement. "How much longer should we sit here?" When she doesn't answer right away, seemingly too preoccupied with the menu in front of her, he raises his voice the slightest. Not too loud anyone else will hear. Not that it matters, seeing as the diner is fairly loud anyway. "Sandy."
"I heard you," she mumbles. She lifts her sapphire eyes to meet his gaze coolly, face barely visible beneath one of those floppy summer hats. "Let's wait and see what he does. Act as casual as you can manage. Idle conversation. He knows we're here. Let's show him we're not scared. Or are you, Sinatra?"
God, the nicknames. She definitely isn't bothered by the whole thing. Frank, however, is. They'll have to move again, scrap the laptop, change numbers, the whole shebang. They'd planned on finding another safehouse soon anyway, but this irks him. Either someone had squealed (which, if so, he's more apt to kill the snitch than not), or Sandy's getting rusty.
"I know you hate this, but let's not kill him. At least not yet." At Frank's raised eyebrows, she clarifies, "Not here. You can decide once we get out of here if you wanna just straight up get rid of him or drag him in for questioning first. Either way, we gotta disappear after we handle him."
Frank nods, placated for the moment. "My thoughts exactly."
"Want anything to eat?" Her abrupt change of subject never shocks him anymore.
He makes a face and leans back in the booth. "Might as well."
"Good, because I was gonna order something for you anyway. Keep up appearances. Hate to waste food, dear."
His glare only served to widen her grin. "You're so fucking annoying."
"But you love me anyway."
"Wouldn't go that far."
Sandy feels like maybe she ate too much, but she will never tell Frank that. He'd give her a look like a disappointed parent. She'd reassure him that she'd be fine for whatever happened, as she'd been in worse condition and fought just fine, thank you very much. The usual. So it's not worth it.
"Route A?" she asks as the waitress takes their plates.
"Mhm."
"He looks to be alone, but if not, Route B." It's not a question that time. Sandy doesn't often need to explain the plan they've made together, but it is helpful when things change, even just a little. They'd been on different pages before in a similar situation and it had not ended well. Best to be prepared.
They leave the diner moments later, arms linked together casually. It was Sandy's idea to pose as a couple. No real PDA, usually. Sandy can always see the relief in Frank's eyes. She could go overboard sometimes, and it's best not to test his patience too much. They don't speak much as they walk the two blocks to their escape route. The man in the gray hat lingers back at the perfect tailing distance. He's fairly good, but Sandy and Frank have experience. He's also alone. Route A it is, then.
They both know which alleyway to turn down, but Sandy still gently guides Frank in the right direction. She feels his right arm flex in annoyance. She knows it's only partially aimed at her. He's always on edge in narrow spaces. Not that she blames him.
She doesn't hear any excess footsteps behind them. At least, not ones close enough to be a bother. Sandy turns her attention back to their escape route in the alleyway ahead of them. She doesn't need her hat anymore, especially since the sun is getting low and the alley isn't exactly well lit. So she tosses it into a conveniently open dumpster. Sandy flexes her fingers and unhooks her arm from Frank's. Best to be physically ready for whatever happens next.
They'd have time to get out without making a mess. Or, if Frank so decides, bring him in for questioning. Whoever is following them will have to explain why exactly they'd contacted them and who—
Frank, who had dropped half a pace behind her, nearly plows into her when her feet grind to a halt halfway down the dark alley.
Someone is already there.
Shit. They've walked right into a trap. They had an exit plan for this, but it's still highly irritating. Her skin prickles and her muscles tense, ready for a fight. She feels Frank swiftly go for his gun. She begins making her water knives appear around her, but stops once a familiar voice rings out.
"Didn't you used to be blonde?"
Her heart leaps into her throat, knocking the wind out of her lungs. She hasn't heard from him in quite some time. Once she'd arrived back from... well, wherever it was half the universe had gone for 5 years during "The Blip" (a stupid name), she'd looked him up and found he'd been dusted, too. At least their lost time together is mutual. One more thing they'll have to bond over later. Once he explains himself. Her defenses fade away into nothing as he speaks again.
"Those knives look new too. Seems like you've been busy, huh?" Sam Wilson drawls, finally peering out from the shadows. Sandy doesn't miss the playful look on his face, or the confusion Frank's emitting.
"Sam," comes her almost breathless reply. She's so elated to see him that she doesn't have one of her snarky greetings ready. She'll probably catch hell for that later.
Suddenly, Frank swirls around with his gun at the ready. A split second later, Sandy registers the footsteps behind them. Then, she hears the soft click of a silenced gun. Sam's expression doesn't seem to shift into anything that looks like he's ready for a fight. In fact, he looks... proud? Smug? Sandy can't quite pinpoint it, but she figures she's about to find out anyway. She follows Frank's lead and swivels, pulling out her own gun just in time to see a body drop to the floor. Frank's gun doesn't have a silencer, so why—
Someone else is here, too. Shit. Why aren't we dead already?
Sandy can hardly believe her eyes. Frank seems to register who it was before she does, however. His eyesight must be better than hers, because she can't see him until he takes a few steps closer. Maybe this alleyway wasn't the best escape route after all.
"The Winter Soldier," Frank growls. He is very unhappy with their situation, and if it doesn't turn to absolute shit, Sandy knows exactly how their conversation will go later. And if it does turn to shit, they'll still have that unpleasant conversation, just with a lot more added blood and possible stitches.
The ex-H.Y.D.R.A. assassin looks as imposing as his reputation. Physically at least. All of the tales of his unwilling escapades as a H.Y.D.R.A. lackey suggests he works in the dark, often alone. His opponents almost never see him, but if they do, it's already too late. He used to carry out covert assassinations in complete anonymity. Lulling enemies into a false sense of security and teaming up with a known good guy definitely don't seem like his style. He also isn't wearing tactical gear. Just a zipped up bomber jacket and jeans...
Sandy's muscles relax and she holsters her gun. He's there as Sam's backup. And she knows Sam. And he'd taken out gray hat, who had apparently been stupid enough to follow them this far.
"That was your only tail. Sorry if you wanted the honors," he says looking down at the corpse. His eyes glint with a hint of amusement. And something else Sandy can't quite put her finger on. But he definitely looks more human than he had in the limited footage she's seen from back then. Her eyebrows raise slightly. "He wasn't very good at his job."
Sandy was going to counter with something along the lines of "or you're just that good," but she doesn't get the chance.
Frank is still very unhappy. "Why the hell are you here?" He had been backed into a corner and Sandy knows exactly how much of an animal that can turn him into. It's time to diffuse the situation and get some answers. And maybe a nice little reunion. She missed Sam.
"You're with Sam," she states simply, locking gazes with the Soldier.
The Winter Soldier nods at the same time Sam answers, "Yeah, and he's a pain in the ass. Reminds me of someone else I know."
Despite being very outwardly agitated, Sandy notices that Frank's lips twitch upwards at that. It's gone the second the Soldier starts moving, though. He slowly lowers his gun, but he doesn't take his eyes off the Winter Soldier as the assassin carefully makes his way to Sam's side. He gives Frank a wide berth but keeps his expression relaxed, nonthreatening.
"It's my goal in life: make as many people as possible fall in love with me, then annoy the absolute shit out of them," Sandy proclaims proudly. She carefully watches Frank and the Soldier size each other up, ready to intervene if necessary. Once the Soldier stops moving, she allows herself to turn her full attention to Sam.
Sam looks the same as he had back then. He had always seemed to be on the edge of a smirk, only now he has an actual beard instead of just the goatee. It's a good look. He hasn't seemed to age a day. Then again, he'd always said "black don't crack," and she's very apt to believe that.
A quick flash of light reflecting off a metal surface catches her attention before she can comment on anything else. Her eyes fixate on what he's holding in his left hand. How on earth had she missed that? And how could she have already forgotten?
"Well, what do Captain America and The Winter Soldier want with The Punisher and Proteus?" Sandy inquires, a playful lilt to her voice.
"White Wolf, actually."
Sandy's eyes land on the Soldier at that. She feels Frank's attention shift beside her, too.
"I don't— I'm not the Winter Soldier anymore." There's a hesitation to his voice. Regret, even?
She tilts her head curiously at him. "Okay, White Wolf."
"You can just call me Bucky."
"Or asshole," Sam adds. He side-eyes Sam, but lets Sam continue uninterrupted. "And we're here because, unfortunately, you're on someone's shit list. Someone we've been tracking."
"I think we can handle ourselves, thanks," Frank huffs.
"Play nice, Frank," Sandy mutters. He has not lowered his guard at all, and Sandy can tell he just wants to disappear like they planned.
"I can clearly see that. But this isn't a bunch of underground drug lords or smuggling rings," Sam counters coolly.
The White Wolf—Bucky—speaks next before Frank can argue further. "Which, by the way, nice job on that." There's no sarcasm in his voice.
"Thanks," Sandy beams, then jerks a thumb in Frank's direction. "His idea." Frank only grunts.
"Anyway." Sam clears his throat. "We both need your help, and we'd like to offer you…" He seems to struggle to find a word that won't offend Frank.
"Help," Bucky finishes for him. He doesn't look like he much cares how that word sounds. "A mutually beneficial partnership. Sam says you're good with tech."
Sandy clicks her tongue proudly. "That I am. Well, I'm game. Kinda wanna meet the guy that put us on a list that Captain America would think we need protection from. Frank, dear?"
Frank shoots her a dirty look again. She bites back a grin. He takes a long moment to study Sam and Bucky before his shoulders slack. "Fine."
He isn't done talking, and Sandy knows that. But she interjects anyway. "But we're apparently gonna do this his way."
Frank's jaw clenches. She just loves irritating him.
Sam raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment. "All right. Follow us. We've got a place close by where we can talk securely."