Music blared through her ears, drowning out all outside noises. She had finished her cardio workout maybe fifteen minutes ago. Now, she sat with her legs folded and palms resting on her knees with her eyes shut, allowing her body to relax. She focused on the music and her breathing. Nothing else could draw her attention away now. Alison slowly lowered her head as she breathed in deeply. Admittedly, the past week had been… helpful. Not having to go to work had given her more time to do things she enjoyed. Like naps. And binge watching. Lena had even visited her for two days. They had watched movies, sang, and played video games— all the good stuff they had done when they had been college roommates.
She had to leave, though. Her girlfriend had been a little pissed that Lena decided to spend some of her vacation in Banshee than with her. A chuckle slip out as Alison remembered the conversation her best friend and Jenna had had over the phone. It had consisted of 'I'm sorry. I'm coming back right now. I'll even get you some earrings,' and 'Wot?! I don' want no fuukin' earrings!' Jenna had a heavy British accent, especially when irritated. 'Make it a Playstation gift card and we even, yeah?' The call had ended with an exchange of verbal affections. They were both so cute. Still, it had been the end of Lena's stay. It had been good timing, too.
Lena had just been about to start nagging about grieving properly again. She had gotten enough of that with the therapist. The therapist, despite his best intentions, had only caused exasperation. His prodding had only managed to stress her out. After each session, Alison prayed that the whole nightmare would turn into a faded memory. She didn't need a stranger bringing it up so that she could 'work through it.' Fortunately, the sessions had only been every other day, and yesterday had been the last. After the weekend was over, she could finally return to work.
Her music switched to a slow, haunting song. It was a reminder she had placed in her workout playlist to make sure she would calm her body after the intense body movements. It was also a reminder to come out of her near meditative state. Alison cracked one eye open, peeking at the time on her alarm clock, which had been placed on her nightstand. Almost time for dinner. She opened the other eye, and then stood. After stretching a moment, she unclipped her mp3 player from her sports bra.
She shut off the sounds of music and headed for the kitchen. She spied her phone lying on the island counter. The screen was dark, but there was the flashing green light, indicating that she had missed notifications. Probably emails, she thought. Alison passed the counter in favor of going to the refrigerator. She pulled out her earphones and set the mp3 player down on the counter beside the refrigerator. Opening the door, she quickly found a water bottle. Unceremoniously, she twisted the cap off and drank the bottle's contents without stopping. Her mother had disliked when she drank water like that, but to her it had always felt nice.
Sighing out, Alison slammed the bottle on the counter. Hearing it crinkle like it did was satisfying, too. Suddenly, her cellphone's default ringtone rang out, alerting her to a call. She turned, staring at the small device as it lit up and vibrated. Everyone in her contact list had a unique ringtone, so it was a new number calling. She really hoped it wasn't another 'Upgrade today!' type of call. Warily, she picked up her phone and touched the green phone icon. "This is Alison," she spoke her usual greeting. The person sounded like they took a deep breath. Like they were about to start breathing heavy on purpose. Alison scowled. She hadn't experienced something like this before. "Hello…? If this is a prank, you've picked the wrong-!"
"No!" Finally, the person responded. Sounded male, but with that squeaky reply, it might have been a female. Then, he cleared his throat. "No," he said more calmly and in a deeper voice than before. "It's me. I-It's Kurt." Alison blinked once, and then narrowed her eyes. Sure, his voice sounded vaguely familiar, but her brain did not supply a face. Still, this man sounded as though he knew her. "DA Medding…?"
"Sorry. I don't know how you got this number, but clients are to call the office at-"
"I'm not a client… It's… I'm the new Deputy—Kurt Bunker."
"Oh." Then the information actually processed. "Oh!" She had given him her personal number. She had agreed to his… thanks. And had forgotten all about it. It felt as though her stomach dropped out of her system. She didn't feel grounded at all. The feeling was similar to her first day in court. God, had it been a horrible day. Alison struggled to calm down and focus. Even so, her grip on her phone increased. "Bunker," she acknowledged. Surprisingly, her voice came out steady. "I didn't recognize your voice. And I suppose I didn't actual catch your given name." With the bullets flying and general life being in danger thing, but she decided not to mention it.
"Right. Um…" He paused as though trying to find words. "Are you free tonight? I convinced Deputy Lotus to take the night shift."
"This is about you thanking me?" Alison grimaced, rubbing at her temple with her free palm. After that conversation, she had hoped he wouldn't feel the need anymore.
"My mom always said to repay debts in any way I could," Bunker stated. "I have to do this."
"Of course you do." The snide remark was out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Anyway. Yeah, I'm free," she answered hastily as to smooth over her previous words. "What did you have in mind?"
"I know a few places around town…" Bunker continued talking, but Alison had stopped listening. Around town? As in in town? No. Hell no. Over her rotting corpse. In a small town like this, rumors would go flying even if someone even glanced at the two of them together. There was no way she would spend an hour at the most being associated with a man covered in monster tattoos, just waiting for some ignorant fool to think they put two and two together. Absolutely no way. "… But it's up to you," he finished.
Alison snapped out of her worst case scenario just in time. "You know what? I actually have to think about it," she told him. "Are you calling from your cell phone?" Bunker gave an affirmative. "Then I will text you a time and location." She ended the call before hearing a response. Impolite, yes, but she was beginning to panic. How could she have been so rash? Forgetting about the whole thing had been irresponsible. Because she had forgotten, she did not plan ahead.
She paced back and forth in her kitchen, pressing the back of her phone hard against her bottom lip. She should have thought of this. Should have researched places out of the public's eye. She should have done a lot of things. Now she had a small window of time to come up with something. Because she had made an agreement. Agreements were meant to be kept. Alison took in a deep breath, willing herself to relax. This was not a live or die type of situation. She had survived that already. One measly dinner would not be the end of her. She released the air she had been holding back and shut her eyes.
All she needed was a location outside of Banshee. Right… There was a place. It was far enough away from the town, but close enough that she would not be uncomfortable driving to and from the place. Alison opened her eyes again. Yes. It was the perfect place. Small. Friendly staff. Located on the outskirts of a smaller town than even Banshee. No one in town would ever know. With that positive thought in mind, she texted the name and address of the restaurant to the unfamiliar number. The second text consisted of the time and the meet up.
It gave her time to shower, get ready, and drive there. If Bunker arrived on time, she would get there before him. Regardless, they would both arrive after the sun set. That meant fewer patrons. Her phone beeped in her palm, causing her to flinch. Alison looked down at her phone, seeing the notification for a text message. It's kinda out of the way, it said. From Bunker. "You're kinda out of the way." The childish response popped out of her mouth unbidden. Fortunately, she was alone. She texted a better reply.
I would advise bringing gas money just in case.
Not what I meant.
Alison was surprised he had replied back so fast. She hurriedly texted him again as she walked through her home. If it's a problem, we can cancel the whole thing if you want, she told him. Reaching her bedroom, plugged the charger into her phone. Then set the phone down just as she received his message. A simple No had been his answer. She halted in her movements for just a moment, wondering why he was so adamant that this happen despite the inconvenience. She was being difficult, she knew. Others would have deemed the situation too difficult and went about their lives. Yet Bunker persisted. It couldn't be just because his mother, could it? Well, she, herself, had done lots of things because of her mother, so… Shaking the thoughts away for now, Alison shifted her attention to her closet.
She needed the proper attire just in case things went south.
0-0
As expected, Alison arrived just as the sky shifted from yellow to dark blue. She turned off her bike and removed the keys from the ignition. She had drove her beautiful candy blue motorcycle instead of the car. She had been so proud when she had purchased it. It had taken six paychecks after she had become District Attorney, but the bike had been worth it. She didn't ride it often, but when she did, it was the most relaxing, freeing thing she could do after a stressful work day. Normally, she kept it in her garage. She had taken it out for this little excursion as a quick escape if needed. Her bike was faster than most cars, after all.
Knocking the kickstand down, she tilted her bike a bit, and then moved to get off. She took the helmet—matching the color of the motorcycle, of course—and let it hang off one of the handles. Alison walked towards the entrance of the restaurant, pocketing the set of keys. She didn't bring much with her. Just the keys, a twenty dollar bill, her cell phone, and her ID. Anything else would be troublesome to carry.
Upon opening the door, Alison felt the immediate shift in temperature. The night was a bit hotter than normal, so the air condition was still on. "Welcome to Grandma's!" The owner's voice caught her attention. A short elderly woman who's eyes crinkled at the sight of her. "Well, if it isn't Ali! Haven't seen you in a while." The older woman grinned at her, showing a full set up white teeth. Alison found herself smiling back, albeit sheepishly. It had been quite some time since she found herself here. The last time had probably been after graduation.
"My bad, Mrs. Jenkins," she replied with a slight shrug. "If you could just move to Banshee…" The older woman feigned spitting.
"Not as long as that foul man is still alive!" That foul man she referred to happened to be Kai Procter. Alison didn't know the full story, but Mrs. Jenkins apparently would rather burn down her own restaurant than step foot in Banshee, Pennsylvania. Procter's reputation preceded him. But she didn't care. She wasn't going to think about him. "Why are you here so late? Did you get lost again?" Alison shifted uncomfortably, recalling the memory of her finding this place. She had gotten lost on the first trip back from college. Really lost. It had been dark by the time she convinced herself to ask for directions. There may have been gross sobbing involved.
"Not this time," she answered. "I'm… meeting someone here." She noticed the sudden glint in Mrs. Jenkins eyes. "A colleague," she emphasized with a frown. "I have some time and they did, too. So… here I am." Alison ignored the skeptical hum the old woman gave her. Her eyes darted around the small restaurant, noting there were no other patrons. "So can I sit anywhere?" Mrs. Jenkins gave another skeptical hum, and then nodded, telling her she would bring menus soon. It was still fine. The friendly older woman did not like to gossip. "It's fine," Alison thought as she walked to the last booth. She sat down with a huff, intentionally choosing the seat that faced the door. She would see Bunker coming. He would see her, too.
Alison breathed out slowly. Another two hours and she could finally put what had happened behind her. Go back to work and move on. She was… looking forward to it. Maybe Banshee would even go back to being a quiet town with only one big menace to deal with. Not likely, though. Then again, Alison had stopped being optimistic a long time ago. Dealing with crime almost every day tended to drain the hope out of a person. But it probably started before she got into law.
Her cell phone suddenly chimed, alerting her of a received message. She removed the cell from her jacket pocket and stared at the screen. The message was from Gordon. He apparently wanted to celebrate her release from therapy by buying her drinks this weekend. She never did tell him that she hated alcohol. Fight me, was her curt reply. Her lips twitched into a smile as she imagined his reaction. Not a minute later, she received another message. Still mad. Got it. The smile lingered as she put her cell phone down on the table. She relaxed in her seat and shifted her gaze to the window. She could only see the darkened reflection of the diner. Nothing was visible outside. She hadn't considered that. She wouldn't be able to tell if other vehicles pulled up. Sighing in slight disappointment, Alison ran a hand through her hair. The helmet had caused a bit of a mess up top, she noticed in her reflection. She used the window as a mirror to smooth her hair back in place.
The bell, which hung over the door, rang. It was a signal that someone had entered the diner, but it took Alison a half a second to shift her attention towards the entrance. Somewhere in the back, Mrs. Jenkins called at the standard greeting, along with a 'Be right with you!' The person did not respond because his eyes had already found her. She felt herself tense at the sight of him. Kurt Bunker stood on the opposite side of the diner, staring right back at her. He wasn't in uniform, but most of his skin was still covered. He wore a long-sleeved dark grey shirt, along with dark jeans and black working boots. For the first time, she wondered if his tattoos extended to his legs. Probably, she thought with a shudder.
Bunker seemed hesitant, but he still made his way over to the booth. His movements were stiff and a bit jerky. Inwardly, Alison scowled. If he was going to act like this all night, the awkward atmosphere would not end. She did not want to eat with this person sitting across from her. But… she would endure for an hour or so. That was all the time she would be willing to give. After that… nothing.
Alison nodded in greeting, but did not smile. He returned the nod with one of his own before sitting down in the seat across from her. In response, her body sat up straighter, legs moving so that there wouldn't be an accidental brush of their knees. Still, she could feel him. She was hyper aware of the distance between them. Her skin crawled with goosebumps for no other reason than his presence. "Just an hour," she told herself.
"Hello," Bunker broke the silence that fell between them. He looked her in the eye. Finally. It was then Alison realized that his eyes were blue. Gordon's eyes were bright blue. So were the Sheriff's. Anyone could tell from a glance not matter the light source. But with this man in front of her, his eyes were more hazel blue. At a glance, someone could assume that his eyes were brown. Only if someone were to be paying close attention would they see the blue in his eyes. Alison imagined most people would be distracted by the Nazi swastika at the corner of his eye, though. "Thank you for meeting me."
Alison almost flinched. She had been paying close attention. She should not have been doing that to a person she wasn't going to see again. Her gaze dropped to the table. "Don't mention it… ever." Her voice came out harder than necessary, but she did not refocus on him. She didn't get to see his expression change because of her harshness.
"Understood," he said. The way his voice sounded, however, could not be missed. Bunker's voice had matched her hard tone. The flinch hadn't been contained that time. She clasped her hands tight in her lap, reminding herself that it was only an hour. The Deputy cleared his throat. "I realize you may be uncomfortable because of me," he told her. Alison fought the urge to scoff. "But I assure you… I only want to thank you for saving my life. If you hadn't, coming back home would have-"
His statement was cut off due to Mrs. Jenkins appearing tableside, causing them both to jump and turn their eyes to the older woman. She placed two menus down on the table, smiling. "Sorry to keep you waiting. One of my workers must have…" Her words trailed off as she finally took a good look at Bunker, who swiftly removed his inked hands from the table and in his lap. It was too late, though. The giant swastika had been seen by the elderly woman. She froze, horror clearly written on her face. "Oh my God…!" She took several steps away from the table, causing the Deputy to flinch.
"Ma'am…" His strained voice made Alison shift her gaze back to him. "I understand that my physical appearance may be unsettling, but-" He was cut off again by another shriek of oh my God. Alison frowned as she stared, wondering if he had those reassuring words in reserve for situations like these. It hadn't been the first time she had heard them, even if she had barely heard it when she had snapped at him. Sighing mentally, Alison looked towards the panicked older woman. So even white people like Mrs. Jenkins was bothered by the ink. Good to know.
"He's not here to make trouble, Mrs. Jenkins," she said. Both the elderly woman and Bunker turned their attention to her. "This is the new Deputy in Banshee."
"Oh! A blatant racist pig! Just what the world needs!" The shrieking had yet to cease. Sarcasm only added to making her voice higher pitched. "I am surprised by you, Ali!"
"Calm yourself, Mrs. Jenkins. You know your blood pressure isn't good," Alison advised. She was used to remaining serene and seeing reason even in the face of upset people. Mrs. Jenkins reaction was manageable. The elderly woman sucked in a much needed breath before releasing it. "Bunker…Deputy Bunker isn't what he appears to be. At least, he hasn't shown what normal people come to expect, looking at him. You do not have to trust him, but trust me. He's not what you think he is. I wouldn't be here otherwise."
For a few tense moments, the three were incased in silence. Then, Mrs. Jenkins let out a shaky laugh. She awkwardly moved towards the table again, more so towards Alison. "Of course," she murmured. "You… You would not bring someone like that here." She sounded unconvinced, but still shifted to her professional demeanor, though a bit more hollow than normal. "Can I start you off with a few drinks…?"
"Just a water for now," Alison replied.
"And you… Deputy?" Mrs. Jenkins spit out his title. Alison rolled her eyes. Bunker, almost meekly, requested water as well. "I'll be back in a few minutes." The elderly woman shuffled off, but not before throwing a look of concern over her shoulder. Once she had disappeared somewhere in the back, Bunker spoke up again.
"Thank you," he said again.
"I'm sure you're used to it."
"… I expect it. I accept it. I can handle it."
"For Banshee's sake, I hope that's true, Deputy." She hadn't spit his title in a mocking way. No. She had only wanted to make a point. "It's going to be hard," Alison told him. "The majority of Banshee—of the world—wouldn't appreciate a Nazi for a cop. So yeah, it's going to be hard. No normal person would trust you." He looked rightfully contrite, but he held her gaze regardless of the facts. "Why did you even become a cop? Why are you suddenly ashamed of having been one of them? I just can't wrap my head around it. So filled with hate and power-" Now that, she had said in a mocking way. "-and you just up and quit?"
Finally, he lowered his gaze, unable to look at her any longer. Probably remembering the awful things he must have done whilst he had been under the influence of stolen power. Alison clenched her jaw, willing her own memories not to surface. She didn't come here to think about not being spared. The only reason she had brought it up the night of Chayton's siege was… Why had she brought it up? She hadn't told anyone else before. Not even Lena knew. Just her father and mother—and they were both gone now. Why had she told someone who she thought was a monster?
Well, she had been curious. Alison had never stopped to question why a monster was a monster. But Bunker, though he looked the part, did not behave like a monster. He did not show hostility towards her. She supposed she had just used the opportunity to question him. Maybe she told him because telling a secret was normally followed by the other person telling a secret of their own. It had worked, and she had heard how this particular monster came to be.
"I…" Bunker blinked, and then looked her way again. She had almost forgotten about him. "I didn't have power. I only thought I did." He licked his lips, and Alison found herself mesmerized by the action. Not the action itself, but what it meant. He was going to tell another part of his past. She hated herself for wanting to know more, but the last time had… affected her. "What I was filled with was… an illusion." He breathed in tightly. His nostrils flared upon releasing his breath. "That illusion cracked when I was seventeen."
Before he could continue, Mrs. Jenkins appeared again. Alison almost groaned out as the woman set their glasses of water down. Bunker had broken eye contact with her, and was now staring down at the table. Seemingly not noticing, the elderly woman took a notepad out of her apron pocket and asked if they were ready to order. Alison hadn't looked at the menu. Neither had Bunker. But she knew what she wanted. "Do you still have the sunny-side up burger?" she asked. Mrs. Jenkins nodded with a slight smile. "Then I'll take it… with fries."
"Did you want the milkshake, too? Strawberry banana?"
"Of course." She kept the grin to herself, but there were only a few things Alison Medding was always a slut for. Food, milkshakes, and dance crews. If those things were offered, she would not resist. Again, if anyone—besides her best friend—found out she could be bribed with those things, Banshee was doomed.
"And for you?" Mrs. Jenkins redirected her focus on Bunker, without actually looking at him.
"Just fries, ma'am," he answered, only glancing at the elderly server. Mrs. Jenkins let out a scoff as she wrote down their orders. Bunker pressed his lips together, but did not respond. Announcing her temporary leave, the old woman left them again. For several long moments, the two sat in silence. Alison clenched her jaw, waiting for him to continue. But he did look as if he was going to, which grated on her nerves. He had only just begun to tell her more, but now he didn't want to? She felt herself becoming irrationally irritated. "… I can feel you looking at me."
His familiar words caused a visible shudder. Alison swallowed hard and looked away for just a moment, wondering when her body would stop reacting to him. She hadn't relaxed since he had walked into the diner. When she looked back, Bunker had his eyes on her again. She did not look away this time. "Yeah… You seem to be good at that," she murmured. Reaching for her glass of water, she slowly took a couple of sips before placing the glass to the right of her, near her cell phone. "Are you going to finish then? How did your illusion crack?" Honestly, she didn't even care that she had to ask anymore. She wanted to know.
After a few seconds passed, Bunker started speaking again. "The day I turned seventeen, I got my first tattoo," he stated. His right shoulder twitched a bit. "It was a gift. 'Nothing left to fear,' it says. The only thing I had been afraid of was my father, but he no longer mattered, so that's the tattoo I chose." Alison didn't speak. She wanted to hear this story to the end. "It was the first of many, all leading up to my next birthday. One for every month—sometimes two every month. I was... dedicated to the cause." He ignored the slight scoff that came from her lips. "By the time my next birthday came around, I thought to myself that I would be a man. I would be one of them." He narrowed his eyes, but it wasn't exactly a glare. "But I ended up missing a few months. After a rally, I… decided to go home alone. It was the middle of the night, and I took a shortcut. Took it several times before. Had no reason to fear. But that night, I was attacked."
"Attacked…? Why?" Alison asked. Most people wouldn't bother a male teenager. Most people wouldn't see him.
"I… lost my shirt at the rally," Bunker answered. "My tattoos were exposed, but I didn't care. I was high on power—power I thought I had. Nothing could touch me... But... There were five of them. Adult males. Three of them were white. The others were…" He shifted uncomfortably and dropped his line of sight to the table again. Alison rolled her eyes.
"You can say it," she said, almost letting out a huff as well.
"Black," he said uneasily. He cleared his throat and hurriedly moved along. "They beat me so bad. All of them. The pain kept me from blacking out. I thought someone from the rally would find me, maybe my brother would follow me home and discover my body. But no one came. I remember lying there for hours in so much pain. I think I saw the sunrise before I finally lost consciousness."
Bunker was quiet for a brief moment, finding words or remembering the hurt he had been delivered. Alison watched, brow furrowed. A part of her felt his pain. Another part thought he deserved the beating. He had come from a rally, he'd said. Probably not a fun for all type of event. Had the assault changed his mind? He had been young. Naivety tended to die because of violence. Perhaps he saw the light? Or perhaps he sought vengeance. "Did your brother find you eventually?" she questioned. Bunker shook his head.
"Someone did—just not who I expected. It was a police officer," he replied. "He took me to his house. His wife, Kendra, took care of my injuries—she was a nurse. I couldn't open my eyes for a little more than a week." Damn. She could only imagine what he had looked like. Probably smelled bad, too. "I didn't realize who had taken me in until the bandages from my eyes were removed. She was black, Jamaican descent, accent was barely there, though, so I didn't know. The cop—he was white. They had a seven-year-old daughter. The wife's grandfather lived with them."
"Bet that made you all sorts of ungrateful," Alison remarked.
"It… It did," he agreed. "But I had already been with this family for two weeks. Not including the days I was unconscious. After a while… and a lot of arguing… I convinced myself that they had helped me when no one else did. I convinced myself that it was okay to accept their help. And I stayed for another three weeks."
"Why didn't they just take you to a hospital?"
"Hospital would have asked questions, is what they told me," Bunker replied with a shrug. "Found out later that the police officer—Officer Graham Miller—didn't want to stir trouble by having the people I associate with find out what happened to me. The Brotherhood would have retaliated."
Alison moved uncomfortably in her seat. There was a thought. She had had it many times in the past. Still, there had been no retaliation. She knew the monsters wouldn't just let her be, but… they had. She had believed she had escaped that life with no consequences. But what Bunker had just said made her question things all over again. There would have been some type of backlash, and yet there hadn't been. Why…? Alison cleared her throat, going for another sip of water. "How long did you end up staying with that family?" she asked, pushing back vile memories.
"It took a few months for my body to heal. I stayed… longer." Bunker visibly swallowed. His hands came up from his lap, fingertips lightly touching. A nervous habit, maybe? "I… started to… like them more. Especially the little girl. She… She trusted me because she didn't understand what the tattoos meant. Her parents were wary at first, but she liked me from the start. The old man did, too, but he was blind." His fingers clasped together. "She called me Captain Kirk because she misheard my name the first time." A slight smile touched his face, and Alison found herself tense for a completely different reason even if she didn't understand the reference. "It was… nice being there with that family. The Brotherhood was about having respect and loyalty, but for the first time in a long time, I felt love."
"Love…?" Alison whispered. She almost didn't believe what she was hearing. He had been changed by this biracial family, it appeared. Something he had been conditioned to hate, he had ended up loving?
"I didn't call it that back then, but yeah… I loved them," Bunker confirmed. The slight smile had turned into a tight frown. "I left them eventually, all healed up, and returned to my real family, who thought I just needed time to myself, so they didn't ask questions. … I kept going back to them—to the Millers." He released a deep breath. "Going to rallies, getting tattoos, gaining more approval with the Brotherhood—and yet I still went back. Being with the Brotherhood became like a job. Because after all those things were over, I would go to them. Relax, have fun, eat dinner. The parents let me sleep over sometimes. I even used to walk their daughter from the bus stop when I could. Stay with the grandfather when I could. He liked when I read to him. I helped out around the house when I could. I was taught how to cook. How to fix a car. They trusted me. I trusted them. It was nice."
"And yet you kept going back to the Brotherhood, participating in their mutual hate? What for?" Her question came out harsher than intended. More like a demand then a simple question.
"I foolishly thought I could have both." Bunker looked so remorseful that Alison did not mind drumming of her heart that had reached her ears. The slight crack in his voice told her this would not be a happy ending. "With them, I felt happy. With the Brotherhood, I had respect. I wanted both the power and the love. So, for a time, I went back and forth. Then… About a month before my birthday, I walked to their house. Normally, I'd take the bus, but I knew none of them would be home by the time I arrived because of some type of meeting at the daughter's school—the grandfather went, too. Anyway, I walked, but they still weren't there, so I waited. I…" He stopped and shut his eyes for a moment. "I didn't realize I had been followed. He didn't follow me out of suspicion. Only curiosity. He didn't see much. Just me waiting for the family to return home. He found out who lived there, though. He thought I was planning something for them."
"He…?"
"Some guy named Hondo. I didn't really know him, but he knew me. He was part of the Brotherhood," Bunker supplied. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Alison didn't know why. "Apparently, he had a deep hatred for mixed families. He… burned down their house and told me Happy Birthday." His hands interlocked so tightly, she thought his bones might break under the pressure. "It wasn't until later that I found out the daughter was in the house at the time of the fire. She had been sick, so she had stayed home with her great grandfather that day. They both died." She didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to think. So Alison remained quiet, watching tears gather in his eyes. "I tried to explain what happen. I tried to shift the blame, but the mother… she smacked me across the face, screamed at me. Wouldn't accept an apology." His voice had become a void. Like he wasn't in the diner. Like he was standing across from a woman who had lost her child. "She said I would always be one of them. Officer Miller, completely stone-faced, said he never wanted to see me again. A man and woman who had become like parents to me had banished me from their lives."
Bunker breathed sharply through his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut. Alison had an urge to reach across the table and touch his clenched hands. She should not be having those types of urges with this man. But damn. At the time, he had been just a kid. Just a boy. An image of another boy flashed through her mind. "No…!" she told herself. She would not think about him. Never again. "What did you do?" Alison asked, softly.
"I…" A shaky breath left him. He wiped at his eyes, not allowing the tears to fall. "I waited a few days before trying to contact them. I figured they just needed time to grief. I had grieved, so… when that was over, I tried to call the police station. I found out that they had moved. Moved out of Banshee—to a different state altogether." He finally opened his eyes again, but his gaze did not meet hers. Still, she could see that the whites of his eyes had become slightly red. "I became numb. I threw myself into the Brotherhood after that. And I finally became one of them."
"That didn't stop you? Seriously? You-"
"It's hard to walk away from all you know. I had already lost one. I wasn't prepared to lose the other."
Alison let go of the sudden anger. What he had said made sense. His actions had made sense, given the situation he had been placed in. He had been just a boy thrown into a horrible situation out of his control. His father. Tank. Hondo. They had all led him down the path of becoming a monster. Hell, even Mr. and Mrs. Miller played a part in it. She didn't like it, but she understood it. Slowly, Alison let out a soft, barely audible breath. "So what changed? What made you leave?"
"You said people don't change."
"They don't," Alison replied, narrowing her eyes. "You didn't. You just put on an act."
"I would never use that as an excuse for what I've done," Bunker stated. "Who I am will always hate who I was." While that did make her feel relieved—it would be bullshit if he agreed that it had all been an act—it always made her feel a twinge of remorse. She had been openly hostile towards him and subtly afraid. At first sight, she hated him without question. But how could she go on hating when he so obviously hated himself?
"You're not listening, Bunker," Alison said, shaking her head a bit. "You didn't change. You became one of them—one of the Millers—before you became one of them—a monster. You didn't change. You put on a persona for the only family you had left. So again, I ask… What changed about your situation that made you leave?"
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Kurt didn't know what to say. Of course, he knew the answer to her question. It was more that he didn't know how to respond to her. She had… changed her behavior towards him. She had been cold and hard towards him before. As she had every right to be. However, she had also been curious. Now, it was just curiosity. No longer hard at all. Despite the way things should be, he found himself not wanting her to revert back to the cold. This woman, who had saved his life, and by all account should be nervous around him, had relaxed in his presence.
She had been tense from the start, clearly nervous. It had only gotten worse when he had sat opposite of her. Gradually, though, as he told her about the Millers, she had lost her frigid disposition. Kurt supposed he wasn't used to reactions like hers. No one had ever bothered to ask him these questions. People saw the tattoos and were immediately fearful and/or angry. Alison Medding chose to confront him, demanding answers. He hadn't been so completely averse to her having those answers either. He hadn't spoken a word of what had happened to anyone. Maybe that's why the words had come so easily.
Kurt allowed himself a deep inhale before silently letting the air go. He hadn't calmed himself before he had starting talking before. Dangerous emotions had leaked to the surface. He may have been willing to tell the story, but to unlock the emotions behind the memories—he didn't think he could handle it. He opened his mouth to begin again, but the waitress interrupted. The old woman was quite stealthy for her age. Removing his hands from the table again, he watched as the plates were set. Fries for him. Burger and fries for her, along with a milkshake—pink and yellow side by side.
"Thank you." Kurt blinked in surprise. Since he had known Alison, she had never used such a light voice before. Sweet, even. Muffled as it had been, her voice sounded excited. Though she had spoken to the waitress, her eyes had been focused on the milkshake. The waitress said something in return and walked away, but his attention remained focused on the woman in front of him. She tore the paper off the straw and plunged the red tube into her drink. Paying no mind to him, she devoured her sweet drink, smile tugging her lips. Kurt felt the corners of his lips twitching as he watched her.
Eventually, her brown eyes glanced at him. She immediately set the glass back down on the table. The glass was half empty by that point, though. Alison cleared her throat, wiped at her upper lip, and looked towards the window. Just for a moment, Kurt caught a glimpse of embarrassment. She didn't need to be. "Are the milkshakes good here then?" He hadn't meant to ask. Hadn't meant for his voice to sound light. He hadn't meant to tease at all. Still, her head ducked down before she gave a jerky nod. "Maybe I'll order one myself." The corners of his lips twitched again, but she didn't see.
By the time she had returned her gaze to him, his expression had already went back to neutral. "How are things… at the station?" Her question surprised him. Well, all of her questions did really. But he had thought she wanted to know about… the fire. The change. The separation. It could be that Alison wanted to shift the conversation to a lighter topic while she ate. Kurt couldn't blame her for that.
"Slow," he answered her. "It's just been me and Deputy Lotus. The Sheriff hasn't shown his face since the funeral. Deputy Raven won't be back until next week."
"And Chayton?" she asked before putting a few fries in her mouth.
"Still missing, unfortunately," he replied, reaching for the ketchup. Kurt didn't show how surprised he was that Alison had not flinched when he had gotten near. She hadn't even glanced at his hand. It had been a pleasant surprise that lingered on his mind even as he poured the red condiment over his fries. "I hear the FBI will get involved with his capture." She raised both brows. Though her expression was more sarcastic than actual shock.
"How about Alma? Is she doing okay?"
Alma. He knew Alma. The woman avoided Kurt like a disease. She went out of her way to look as though she could only focus on her own tasks. Just so she wouldn't have to speak to him. She even ignored his polite greetings. He accepted the way she treated him. She wouldn't be the first. Wouldn't be the last. "Deputy Lotus tells me it won't be long before she puts in her two weeks," Kurt stated.
"I got that impression, too," Alison murmured, and then took a hearty bite out of her burger. She made a sound of pleasure that Kurt hadn't expected. She went on eating, not knowing that the sound had caused his body to respond in an… uncomfortable way. He cleared his throat, going for his own cup of water. After a few gulps, he set his glass back down, and then shifted his attention to his own food.
"What about you? Are you okay?" He had asked as casual as he could. The last time he had asked about her wellbeing, she had been covered in blood. Not her own, but it had still been blood. She was still a civilian despite her profession. The last time he had asked her, she had given a brisk reply that had had him feeling slight disappointment. At the time, it had only been slight. If she answered the same way this time… What happened between them did not mean as much to her as it did to him. He wouldn't be able to call the disappointment slight.
"I'm…" Alison looked towards the window again. She seemed hesitant. "I'm okay for the most part," she continued. "What happened… Some of its hazy. Some of its vivid. I'll be fine after a while." As little and vague as it had been, she had still admitted some vulnerabilities. Maybe she would even tell him why she had saved his life. He didn't want to push, though. Even if it meant he would never find out. This was only a one time gathering for them, after all. "And you…? Can't imagine you thought your first day on the job would be like that."
"I'm doing okay," he answered, a bit shocked that she would think to ask. "Nothing like that had ever happened in Dade County, but I'm holding up. Banshee has become full of surprises since I've been gone."
"… I guess so." She looked at him for a moment, brow slightly raised as though contemplating something. What, he did not know. Kurt wanted to ask, but Alison focused on her meal. Small talk was over, it seemed, in favor of the food in front of her.
So they ate in an amicable silence. Alison more or less ignored him. Kurt attempted to do the same, but occasionally his eyes would drift back to her or look at her reflection in the window. He couldn't understand her motivations. She had said, multiple times, that this dinner would be the end. They wouldn't have anything to do with each other after it was over. Yet she asked him questions like she wanted to know him. Maybe it was just curiosity and he shouldn't put too much thought into it. Whatever her motivations, this was probably the only time she would allow him near. He needed to stop thinking about her and accept that their association was momentary.
Kurt sighed, pushing his half-eaten plate towards the middle of the table. Admittedly, the thought was more than a little discouraging. Seemingly not noticing his sullen disposition, Alison used a finger to pull his plate more towards her. He blinked down at the moving plate, and then looked up at her. She stared back, almost daring him to say something. With her eyebrow cocked up, she appeared ready to give a rebuttal at the slightest sign of protest.
The meal was for her. Anything she wanted. Kurt felt his lips twitching again as he pushed the plate closer to her. Satisfied by his response, Alison devoured the rest of his fries in a matter of minutes. He was half-surprised she didn't burp in gratification after she was finished. Ordering a milkshake for himself probably wouldn't end up being for himself. He watched her wipe her hands of the ketchup with a napkin, and then her mouth, before leaving the napkin on her empty plate.
Alison bit her lower lip before opening her mouth again. He found himself leaning for slightly in anticipation. She was about to ask him. Kurt knew it was coming, and honestly, he wanted to tell her. However, before she could get a word out, the old waitress came back. Had she been watching them the whole time, waiting for a chance where she can interrupt again? Christ…! Kurt didn't let the agitation show on his face as the older woman asked Alison if she could get her something else.
"No, thank you, Mrs. Jenkins," she replied. Her hand went towards her cell phone, picking up the small device. Her eyes widen, looking at the screen. "Shit…!" The slight scolding from the old woman was ignored. "I didn't realize it was so late." Her brown eyes looked his way for a split second. She frowned as she glanced outside.
"Then is it two bills?"
"Just one, ma'am," Kurt answered, shifting his attention away from the woman in front of him. The old woman muttered something he didn't hear, but then told him the total price for the meal. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his debit card. He handed the card to the older woman, and ignored the way she snatched it from him. She said she would right back before leaving the table again. Kurt exhaled once the old woman's presence disappeared. His eyes easily returned to Alison again. She was in the process of placing her cell phone in her jacket pocket. "What were you-?" he began.
"I'm going to the bathroom!" she blurted, and then started moving out of the booth. Without another word, Alison walked further back, pushing pass the swinging door, which probably led to the restrooms.
After a moment, Kurt sighed again, sinking further into his seat. The moment had been broken, it seemed. When she came back—provided there were no windows she could escape through—either she would sit back down or say goodbye. Probably the latter. Alison would compose herself and realize she didn't need to question his past because his present and future would not consist of her. Another sigh broke through.
Another few minutes passed before the waitress came back, giving him his card and receipt. The old woman gave him a hard look, thanked him for his business, and then went away again. He got the hint. She wanted him to leave as quickly as possible. Kurt shut his eyes for a moment, and then focused on the swinging door. Alison had yet to reappear. Understanding, he made his way out of the booth and stood up. He had gotten half way to the door when her voice stopped him.
"Hey," she had called. Kurt turned to face Alison, and for the first time since entering the diner took in her entire appearance. She looked different. It was probably the clothes she wore. She didn't wear professional attire like he had expected. There was the casual jacket, of course, and it covered the pink shirt. She also wore black, almost skin tight, jeans, and combat boots fit for a woman. He didn't see any jewelry in sight either. It was… just a different look to her. Alison walked forward. "We good…?"
No. At least that is what he thought. She didn't get to—or want to?—hear the rest of his past. It wouldn't matter to her. But she probably wasn't even referring to that. Most likely, she meant his thanks. Was the dinner enough to satisfy him thanking her? Well, the answer to that was also a solid no. Nothing he could do would balance out what she had done for him. Still, Kurt fixed his mouth to give her an answer. "Yeah," he said. "We're good." It had been a lie, but it seemed to appease her, so he said nothing more.
Alison walked by, exclaiming a goodbye to the waitress. The farewell was returned, along with a 'Be careful,' which had something to do with him, he was sure. Kurt followed after the District Attorney a few paces behind. He could feel himself becoming increasingly anxious. This was it. After tonight, he would more than likely never see this woman again. Well, see her, yes, but to actually have another conversation? Not likely.
Kurt swallowed thickly as he watched her walk towards the motorcycle. His eyebrows jumped up in surprise as her hand reached for the helmet. The Honda—a Shadow Aero, if he wasn't mistaken—had been hers? That was… unexpected. Christ, this woman was an intriguing mystery. He… was curious about her, too. She had been asking him questions all night. And yet he hadn't gotten to ask her any questions about herself. Most importantly, he hadn't gotten the chance to ask why she had saved him. She hadn't needed to. The Sheriff would been more than enough. He had fallen too quickly, failing to shoot anything that came through the door. He had practically failed his first day on the job. Yet she had saved him. Why?
"DA Medding…?" His mouth opened before his brain could fully form an excuse. She had almost slipped on the helmet, but she halted at the sound of his voice. She turned her head, but didn't face him. Kurt took the chance to take a few steps towards her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his feet move. "Uh… I appreciate you meeting me." She nodded curtly, eyes moving up to his face. "I… I know you said-"
"Well, lookie here, fellas!" A new voice had caught his attention. He imagined Alison sharply turned her head towards the newcomer as well. As usual, Kurt felt his body tense. New people met having to give reassurances. The reassurances sometimes had not worked, so his body was ready to defend if need be. He clenched his jaw as three white men sauntered over. Christ, was he so unlucky? Not only were they interrupting, but they were obviously skinheads. Like he used to, they showed their tattoos proudly. Their arms were practically covered in ink. Kurt moved closer to Alison. Their intentions were clear. At least, he knew from… experience what their intention would be. Grab the girl. Make her watch. It had been a common tactic. "Didn't expect to see this shit so late at night," the one in the middle continued speaking like the smug bastard he was.
"Good evening," Alison greeted, though her voice was rigid as her body. She gripped the helmet and took a backwards step in Kurt's direction. A part of him recognized she felt safer by his side than closer to her motorcycle. That part of him smile. Still, the majority of his focus was on the trio of men, who clearly had bad intentions. They must assume he and Alison were together. They had to be punished for being traitors to their races. Kurt grit his teeth as his hands formed into fists at his sides. "Can I help you gentlemen?"
Kurt recognized her tactic as well. Politeness despite knowing what these men were capable of. It was a tactic some victims went with to pacify. Never worked. Mostly, it had been amusing and it only fueled the desire to cause harm. "I know a few ways you can help me." The one on the right leered at Alison. He sucked on his teeth. "Maybe more than a few." Anger stirred within him and Kurt could swear he could feel his blood pump furiously through his veins.
"Please," Alison remained calm in spite of the implication. She didn't even take another step back. Kurt wanted to move forward, protecting her from the perverse look she was receiving, but if he moved now, he didn't think he could stop himself from attacking a… a civilian. "We don't want trouble."
"And what if we want trouble?" The one in the middle spoke again. He, too, eyed Alison like he wanted to take her a part. Christ. They didn't intend to grab the girl and make her watch. They intended to grab the guy and make him watch. Pieces of shit, they were.
"Then you're going to fucking get it," Kurt nearly growled, speaking up for the first time since the trio had walked up. They all turned their eyes to him. While he was glad the attention had shifted from Alison, it also meant they were sizing him up. It would only be a matter of time before they saw.
"I'd like to see you…" the supposed leader of the three trailed off, probably noticing Kurt had similar tattoos. "Holy shit! You're one of us!" That stung. More than he thought it would. He had been expecting to be called traitor by the Brotherhood. He was not expecting one of them to call him that. Even though this group didn't appear to be a part of the Brotherhood, he knew there were similar groups outside of Banshee. "What? Did we step on your toes, brother? She your pet for the night? Wish I had a tamed one."
"What did you just say?" Alison practically hissed, clearly offended by the choice of words.
"You heard me, bitch!" he had the nerve to wink at her. "Wanna be my pet next week?"
The woman sharply moved forward, but it was a feint. She didn't actually try to hit the leader. Still, it had been seen as an act of defiance. They saw it as a reason to keep her in check. Alison was backhanded across the face before Kurt could do anything. She stumbled back as the three laughed and jeered, exclaiming she needed more training. To her credit, she hadn't cried out when struck, but… she had gripped her helmet tighter. Then she looked at him. He hadn't been able to read her expression. His eyes had zeroed in on the blood oozing from her split lip.
All logic fled from his mind.
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