AN:Hey everyone. I hope you enjoy the story. It will center more around Bunker than the others, but will stick pretty close to the show. And the violence... language.. and sex, so it's real rating is MA. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 1

S.03/EP.05

Tribal

Glass exploded inward as bullets tore through the building. People screamed and ducked as they did their best to dive out of the way of the lead projectiles. Debris flew through the air, and those within the Cadi had to try and stay alive as the onslaught continued.

Just as quickly as it began, the shooting suddenly stopped. The silence was all-consuming, deafening. No one dared speak. They knew it would last only a moment before the bullets started all over again. Worse yet, they knew that if they moved, they'd be gunned down.

Hood was the only one brave enough to try. He raced for the entryway and laid down a few shots before slamming his elbow into an emergency button. Gates began to drop, shielding every window and door, locking those armed outside, and trapping everyone else inside. Bullets pelted the metal protection and, thankfully, did little more than clank against the unyielding surface.

Soon, when they realized they were truly safe, it became a matter of trying to see who was whole, and who wasn't.

Chattering and a chorus of are you okay filled the space to an almost deafening degree. Without warning, the room suddenly went silent once again when a young man removed his shirt. Tattoos littered his skin, but it wasn't that he had ink that drew their eye and judgment, it was their topic. Swastikas and all other manner of Nazi propaganda filled his body to the point of obscenity. He hadn't noticed their stares at first, but only at first. Poor thing tried to explain away the thousands of dollars and dozens of hours worth of bad decisions on his skin, but it truly didn't help.

"Never mind." He mumbled under his breath before disappearing somewhere to the back.

"Who the hell was that guy?" a young woman asked in disgust and shock. It was Alison Medding, a D.A. who worked for the mayor, and happened to be one of the minorities that was the focus of the tattoos' hatred, though she was far from being the only one offended by them.

"I thought he came here with you." Brock replied.

The police and officials began to ensure the civilians who'd been trapped inside with them were all right, safe and hopefully calm. Most were fine. No one cared about the prisoners, but not all of the prisoners were in the cells. A young woman was busy off to the side searching through desks and avoiding the crowd. She soon drew attention, too.

"The hell are you doing?" Brock asked angrily.

She looked at him through her lashes, but didn't speak as she pulled out something she needed. His brows came together as she revealed a paperclip was her supposed target. He opened his mouth to ask what the hell she'd need that for when he spotted the handcuffs clasped firmly around her wrists.

"Whoa!" he interjected when she began to fiddle with their locks. "I don't think so."

He jogged the short distance between them and snatched at her cuffs, gripping the small center chain securely and holding it so she had no choice but to stop.

"Does anybody know who this prisoner is?" he asked the room.

"Cora Roberts." Raven answered. He took a few steps closer so he didn't have to yell across the station. "Battery." Brock raised a brow. "She broke a guy's nose for grabbing her ass."

"Ah," he nodded.

Of all the things she could have been arrested for, defending herself was one of the charges Brock didn't mind. The Deputy was suddenly more at ease with releasing her than he had been a moment before. If she was something worse, he'd have tossed her into the cell with Procter, but was glad he didn't have to. He truly didn't want to lock anyone away right now that didn't have to be.

"Well," his free hand took his keys and he began to turn back to her. "Looks like you're-"

Brock suddenly froze. Cora stared at him blankly as she twisted the paperclip one final time. The lock gave way with a soft click giving her the chance to jerk her last cuffed appendage free. The Deputy couldn't wipe the shock from his face. He hadn't felt her pick the locks at all, let alone free one of her wrists before he'd turned around.

With a curt and short smile, she stepped away leaving Brock holding the empty handcuffs with bent paperclip still sticking out of the lock.

After a few moments of trying to settle their erratic thoughts, Hood told those who weren't police to head downstairs to the basement where the chance of stray bullets was supposed to be slimmer. He did his best to assume control in a chaotic situation. There were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong, and he needed all the help he could get.

"We need more fire power." Hood said to Brock. "Get down to the armory and get-"

"Is this going to be enough?" the young man with the bloody shoulder and swastikas asked. He was wrapped in ammo belts, shotguns, had pistols in his waistband, and boxes of extra ammunition in his hands. It was an alarming sight, one that forced Brock to rest his hand on his unlatched sidearm.

"I hope you don't mind, sir, but I took some initiative." he continued with his deep, rolling voice. "I figured there was no time to waste."

"You're the guy who gave me his resume, right? Dade County Sheriffs."

"Kurt Bunker." he said.

"You're hired." Hood told him plainly, much to the shock of his deputy.

"What? Hood…" Brock tried to defend.

"What about Mr. Procter?" one of the lawyers demanded.

"What about him?" Hood shot back in irritation. He had no time for petty shit, and anything involving Proctor at that moment, in his mind, was petty shit.

"Are you going to let him out of that cell, or not?"

"Not." He said without hesitation.

"Keeping him in there is a violation of his civil liberties."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy." He replied derisively. "Hey, Starling, how about you make yourself useful? Bunker," the Nazi looked up. "Give him a gun."

Without question, he handed a loaded handgun to the lawyer. Starling stammered and stepped back. He held his hands up and claimed ignorance to weapons. Alison wasn't as tentative. She reached for it and wrapped her small hand around the butt without hesitation.

"Ma'am, that gun packs a mighty powerful kick." Brock warned.

"Are you going to stand there like a complete misogynist, or are you going to tell me how to shoot this thing?"

"Thank you for that… I just felt married again." He muttered. "Okay, here we go."

"And you, locksmith," Hood pointed to the silent young woman who'd once been cuffed. Cora had slipped away from the others and was in the process of checking the gates that were supposedly keeping them safe. At hearing the random call, she looked up and spotted the Sheriff. "You ever handle a gun before?" she nodded simply. "Grab one and head down to the basement."

Cora took the few steps needed to join Bunker at the table. He looked up and offered her one of the glocks he'd brought with him. She took it in her hands and weighed it gently. Her nose curled just a bit. She set it down and looked at the Nazi again. In his waistband were two more handguns. She pointed to the one on his right hip. Eying her skeptically, Bunker removed the weapon and offered it to her.

She looked it over, this a .40 caliber, and a bit bigger than the last. With a surprising level of dexterity, she ejected the magazine. She took inventory of the rounds before shoving it back in and cocking a round into the chamber like someone who'd had more than one encounter with a gun. Cora reached forward and took a box of ammunition Bunker had brought with him. Like she had with Brock, she gave him a curt, short smile before stepping around his broad figure and heading for the basement.


Cora wasn't the type to sit still. She found it difficult, especially when the situation was as tense as the one she found herself in. So she paced downstairs, walked around the basement, and looked for any way someone might be able to get in. With Bunker guarding the back door, there didn't look to be anything else giving the Red Bones ready access. But, in her searches, she found a first aid kit. It wasn't much, but it'd help those injured and she knew the regular folks -the ones terrified- would probably feel better for the simple aid.

With the gun in her waistband and the first aid kit in hand, Cora made her rounds through those gathered and mended what she could. They had mainly scrapes and a few bruises from dropping violently to the ground, but nothing a few alcohol swabs couldn't solve.

After the lights went out, and the generator kicked back on, Cora made her way towards the final person in the basement and the one who was actually injured more than they were. Hood was on his way out and spotted her approach with the first aid kit.

"You're a nurse, too?" he asked jokingly.

Cora shrugged a single shoulder. The pair passed one another without another word. Hood made his way to the main floor while Cora joined Bunker.

He caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't let his aim waver. She paid him only passing attention as she set her things down on a nearby crate. It gave Bunker a better line of sight. He watched her silently as she removed a large gauze pad and the small bottle of rubbing alcohol. He tensed his grip on the gun and turned his eyes to the door again.

"I'm fine." He told her in a thick, rumbling voice.

Cora looked at him briefly, but didn't bother to listen. Instead, as she approached him, she held one hand to his shoulder to silently tell him she was stepping behind, and began to dab at the gash. Bunker fidgeted against the cold piece of gauze. He squirmed a little, moving this way and that, tensing and relaxing his muscles, but she didn't stop. At the moment, she was simply cleaning the blood from him to better see the cut left behind by the substantial piece of glass he'd pulled out of his skin.

Still holding his other shoulder with her free hand, Cora squeezed it gently. Somehow, Bunker knew that meant she was about to press the alcohol-drenched cloth to the open wound. Sure enough, a moment later, he felt the undeniable sting of it. Bunker took in a sharp breath through his teeth, tensed every muscle and rolled his shoulder, but she kept the gauze held firm. After a second, the pain began to dull and Bunker relaxed with a sigh. After the initial sting, everything else moved rather quickly.

Cora returned to the kit and sifted through the remaining pieces within. She searched for a bandage big enough, but didn't seem to have one. She grumbled to herself.

"I only have Band-Aids." She said finally. Bunker, who noticed she wasn't one for speaking, turned just enough to look at her. Cora glanced back up through her lashes.

"It's fine."

Cora nodded. She began to put her things away and snapped the kit shut. She turned her back, ready to leave without another word, until Bunker spoke.

"Thank you." He said. She turned once more and noticed that despite speaking to her, his eyes were still on the door.

"You're welcome." She told him in return. "Cora."

He glanced over his shoulder briefly.

"Kurt."

She nodded once more and left. He gave the back door his complete attention again. Still, he thought of the random woman who'd gone out of her way to help him. It wasn't the kindness that was odd necessarily. It was more than she hadn't remarked on his tattoos or hesitated to help that he found mildly strange. Bunker was so used to the hate-filled way people looked at him, or treated him, that anything else was foreign.


The fighting would come in spurts. It would be silent for so long, those inside would grow as comfortable as they could in a stand off, and then the shooting would start, sending them all on edge. The hours continued to move on, and soon it was creeping close to five in the morning. If the stand-off didn't end soon, the Red Bones would have their pick of civilians making their way to work. They could go on a shooting rampage if this didn't end soon.

"Come here," Cora said sternly. When the fighting had ebbed, she grabbed Bunker by his shirt and yanked him out of the way of possible fire.

"I'm fine." He said as he swatted at her attempts to help.

Cora reared back and slapped his hand away hard enough it made his fingers tingle. He looked at her in surprise. Without another word, she pushed him against the wall and took to her knees to better see the bullet wound. She lifted his shirt and began to gently probe his side.

He watched her work, and wondered what the hell she was doing other than causing him further pain. Bunker remained as silent as he could for the most part until she pressed a bit too aggressively near the hole in his side. He let out a loud growl that drew her eye. Cora looked up through her lashes and, for some reason, the brilliant crystal blue of her eyes caused his pain to suddenly disappear. Seeing a woman looking up at him from the angle she was made his mind flash with indecent thoughts long enough he forgot what she was doing.

"How bad is it?" Hood suddenly asked, forcing the pair to look at the Sheriff.

"The bullet's still in there." Cora replied, surprising the man with her sudden ability to speak. Cora looked again to the injury before covering it with Bunker's shirt. "But it feels like it may have missed anything too important."

"Good," Hood nodded. He looked at Bunker. "You good?"

Bunker gave him a short nod, and the fighting began all over again. Hood dashed upstairs leaving Brock, Bunker, and Cora to guard the backdoor with Alison protecting the civilians.

Gunfire raged again. Bullets bounced and ricocheted off every surface. They ducked and shot back, all trying to avoid being hit. It didn't entirely work.

Cora cried out as a ricocheting bullet sliced into her right arm. She fell back and disappeared behind the crates she'd been using for cover. Struck with the sudden urge to protect, Bunker dashed out from his hiding place near the entry to the hall Cora was in. He jogged for her quickly as he fired at the door. Dropping to his knees, he rested his gun against the top of the crate and wrapped as much of himself around the young woman as he could. She felt him surrounding her, but was too filled with anger to stop fighting. Turning in her spot, Cora poked back out from hiding and fired.

Like all of them before, this gunfight ended only minutes after it began. The Red Bones who'd been shooting suddenly fled leaving those within the building alone. Everyone waited patiently for the next onslaught, silent and filled with adrenaline. When they heard sirens in the background, they knew they were as safe as they could be.

Cora relaxed. Her forehead fell gently against the crate she'd been using for cover. Her heart was still pounding, and with it came the ache in her right arm. Cora grumbled at the pain. She shifted to try and see it only to realize the position she found herself in. Bunker was still hovering over her with his eyes on the door, but he was much closer than she assumed initially. She felt his chest pressed firmly against her back, and his arms around her shoulders so he could aim his weapon. When she moved, he noticed the same.

Bunker drew back just enough Cora could move. She looked at him over her shoulder and he met her gaze.

"Thank you." She told him under her breath. Bunker did nothing more than nod and let her stand.

With their salvation closing in fast, everyone began to make their way upstairs to see the real extent of the damage.


Outside, illuminated by the morning's rising sun, were body bags lining the building, a group of ambulances tending to those injured, civilians in shock, and one less deputy alive.

Bunker sat in the back of the ambulance staring into nothingness as an EMT tended to his shoulder while he held a cloth to his side. As far as job interviews went, this was definitely in a class all its own.

Movement ahead drew his attention. Bunker glanced up to see Cora walking passed with a fresh white bandage wrapped around her right bicep. She looked briefly to her side and hesitated when she saw Bunker. The two stared at one another for a moment before either moved. To his surprise, she approached him.

While the EMT was busy grabbing some supplies to bandage Bunker's shoulder, he stood to meet Cora in step. She looked up at him silently until acting. She reached up, held his jaw briefly in her hand before kissing his cheek. Bunker couldn't bother hiding his surprised confusion when she pulled back.

"Thank you." She repeated.

Like before, the best he could do was nod. Cora returned the sentiment and left without another word. She felt she owed him a proper thanks for jumping into the line of fire and shielding her while he himself was injured and since she didn't know him, the best she could offer was a peck to his cheek.

Now, she wanted to sleep. She wanted to take a shower. She wanted to be anywhere other than the Cadi.