A/N: Hey guys! I am SO SO sorry for how late these updates are coming! I've been so busy (and kinda sick) lately so it's just been a struggle. I have a lot written for this story, but it's all stuff ahead of time and honestly I've been dragging my feet on writing some of the filler. BUT Chapter 7 is almost done (I promise this time), so I should have that posted soon.

In the meantime! Here's something I wrote a while back for a friend who sent me this prompt on tumblr (my tumblr is sternbagel if you're into that sort of thing). And I have another little 2 part slight AU to post eventually, and I'll just post it as a little add on to this story like I'm doing here.

This particular segment takes place after Sandy clears her name (as alluded to in Chapter 2) and rejoins her S.H.I.E.L.D. team.

ALSO! I'll put this at the top of Chapter 7, but I am gonna start writing in present tense because it's just so much easier to articulate thoughts for me that way. I don't even know why I started this story in past tense. So sorry if it's a little jarring at first.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Waiting

"There's something not quite right about this whole thing," Sandy muses for the hundredth time.

She's alone in her room with her laptop. Her usual nightly routine. The team is having drinks in the common area. There's not much else to do on a Thursday night when there's the usual lull between missions. Sandy's had enough team bonding for the day. She loves them, but it just feels off when she's around them too long. Especially after she'd returned to the folds. Things are… different. And it's a feeling she can't quite shake. As if she's fooling herself into thinking she belongs here.

Muffled gunshots and shouts erupt from her speakers. The cameras certainly aren't 4K, but Sandy's able to make out what's going on easily enough. Someone has disturbed this gang's seemingly peaceful evening. Sandy knows exactly who that person is. And if she hadn't been actively following him, she would have found out easily enough. His war cry as he rushes in, guns blazing, is one she'd recognize anywhere. The huge white skull painted on his chest is also a fairly dead giveaway.

She wants to smile and just sit back and watch the show, but there's too much going on for her to relax. Frank Castle is careful, calculated, and smart. But he can't account for everything. And maybe, she realizes, he's a little too bull-headed to think his reputation doesn't make his job harder. He's been a little sloppier lately. She's no longer there to help, and neither is Micro, who hasn't been in the picture for a while. Frank knew better than to drag him back into his mess. And he's been trying to keep Curtis at a safe distance as much as possible.

Sandy openly frets when she notices that, although he hasn't been shot yet, he's limping. He didn't have to attack them tonight, but here he is, being the absolute moron he's prone to be. He's always thought of himself as a one-man army. He has every right to, considering how far he's gotten in life, but that also makes him reckless. And Sandy can't just sit by and watch him walk that fine line between life and death. Especially not when there's men on the upper level that she's sure Frank hasn't noticed yet.

A few strokes of her keyboard and she's got control of the lighting system. Two more clicks, and the upper level is flooded with blinding and flashing lights. It's enough of a distraction for Frank to finish off everyone on the lower level. She's kept him out of the light, safe for the moment. He's able to focus on what he hadn't seen before-or maybe he had noticed, but not considered them a threat; he's always so confident that he always knows what he's doing. Sandy hates that about him, mainly because that's exactly what she's like.

Another roar emits from his throat, and in a few seconds, all the men illuminated are dead.

She allows herself a sigh of relief. All the main members of this gang are gone now. Frank will likely find any stragglers by himself. He'll be okay, but Sandy will still keep a close eye on him.

Frank loots some of the bodies silently, still limping (he should really go see Curtis again and get some goddamn rest). She contemplates turning off the feed as he starts to leave. However, she hesitates when he stops and looks around, searching for something. He finally settles his gaze on one of the cameras. Sandy can faintly make out that he's smiling.

He signs "thank you, blonde" to the camera, then taps the area of his chest where his heart is. Then he's gone from view.

Sandy leans back into her pillows, grinning like an idiot. That had been their sign that they were okay and to keep going with the mission. Memories of their time clearing her name and tearing through the criminal organization that had brought them together flood her mind. She shakes them off after a few moments and tries to ground herself. Not all of those memories were fond; she'd almost lost him, then she'd had to drag someone else into their shit.

S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Her room. Pictures from her days at the Academy as her laptop background. Her notes on the latest update to her uniform at her feet. She's at home, in her room.

Another deep breath, and she's back to normal, but she knows she's not home. Not truly.

She can't stand waiting around to feel at home again. She knows it's not going to happen, not here. She'll leave soon. Missing her team and knowing they'll miss her tears at her heart, but it doesn't change her mind. Daisy will try to convince her to stay, Sandy knows it. It won't work, as much as she wants it to. She'll always love them, but it was best for everyone if she left for her home.

Not California, not her family there. They're better off without her. No, she realizes that she'd left her home months ago, standing in an abandoned garage watching her leave on a quinjet.

Sandy finds him in a seedy bar in South Bronx, a week later. Half the patrons are too drunk to care that The Punisher is chugging a beer in their favorite hangout. The other half know who he is, but he's welcome there. Tammy's made them keep their mouth shut. After all, he did single handedly take out the bastards that had been making life on that block a living nightmare. Going out at night is much easier now because of him, so all his drinks are on the house.

She's been waiting too long for this. Being separated for so long from someone who truly understands her had taken its toll on her soul. She is tired. Tired of the spy games, tired of the politics. She wants to do something that matters to the little people again. She wants to fight. To right wrongs overlooked by most of the waking world. There's only one person who truly understands how she feels and can help her accomplish her goals. And she owes him a debt.

Something stirs in her chest when she finally sees him for the first time in, well, too long really. She could have told him she was coming. But she knows he somehow already knows she's there.

It's made more apparent when she recognizes that look on his face. It's inviting a challenge. He knows he's being watched, seems to welcome it.

Several moments pass while she just watches him, waiting for an opening. The limp she'd seen the previous week was all but gone now, to her relief. There are new cuts on his arm and his face. New bruises, too. He looks like shit, as usual. But she loves it. It's familiar. It's also a little bit of what she looks like, too. She'd taken one last mission before she left for good.

A seat opens up next to Frank, and Sandy's waiting is done. She slips onto the stool a split second after the person leaves it. She can see the corner of his lips quirk up. Neither of them says anything for a few beats, but Sandy figures he won't talk until she does. He's always been the quieter one.

"Missed you, dear."

"Missed you too, sweetheart," he replies in that gruff voice of his.

Sandy casts him a curious look. It's the first time he's ever used that word on her. And it's not by mistake, if his expression is anything to go off of. "It's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder, huh?" she teases.

He lets out a scoff and takes another swig of his beer. "Just a little bored, really. Nothin' more."

Oh, she missed this. "You keep telling yourself that, tough guy. We both know you missed my charm."

He's laughing now, and she immediately feels like herself again. "I think," he says, turning his head to directly look at her, "that 'charm' is the wrong word."

She purses her lips in thought. "No, it's the right word. We both know English isn't your strong suit." She bumps his shoulder when he turns back to his beer. A comfortable silence falls between them.

"When you goin' back?" he asks eventually. She hears something in his voice that makes her think he's not going to like the answer.

"About that…" He furrows his brow and turns back to her. She meets his gaze and gives him one of her playful looks. "I was thinking about staying. You seem pretty helpless without me."

There's hesitation in his face, as if that wasn't the answer he was expecting, but he's still going to be given something he won't like. "What, you kill another Vice President?" Sandy can tell he's trying to play this off as casually as possible.

"No, those days are behind me." She lowers her chin and lets her smile falter. "I'm done with S.H.I.E.L.D. For good this time. I tried waiting around for it to feel like home again, but…"

"It's not gonna." Frank nods in understanding. "Not anymore."

"No, not anymore," she confirms. "I'll miss it, but I think I missed this more." She looks around the bar. "Missed you."

When she meets his eyes again, they look much brighter than they had before. Apparently, that answer was the one he'd been hoping for. "Well, Blondie, long as you don't get in my way, you're welcome to stay."

She rests her head on his shoulder, chuckling. "It doesn't matter whether or not I'm welcome. You can't get rid of me that easily, dear."

"Don't call me that."

"Would you rather me call you 'baby,' or something worse? You know I can do worse."

"Do not make me regret this."

With his chin now resting on the top of her head, Sandy realizes that she's done waiting. She's home now.

At least until Frank kicks her out for being too annoying.