Rebecca had royally screwed up.

The dead eyes that glanced her way every so often had told her so. As if she weren't already feeling pangs of guilt and frustration. The disappointment was there, too. Clay Burton practically exuded disappointment. It made her want to gag. She almost wished she hadn't gotten so good at reading him. She knew her actions, though for the greater good, had damned her uncle. The Black Beards had taken her uncle because they believed he had gone back on a ridiculous deal. Her uncle could die because of her mistake. Burton knew it that, too. When Rebecca had told him what had happened at the memorial, he had gotten so angry. Angry enough to hit her, in fact. And honestly, she would have accepted it. But he hadn't moved to strike her. He had only assured her that her uncle would be found.

However, half the day had gone by, and there was no sign of him. No calls either. For just a moment, she had wanted to believe they were merely holding him for ransom. How utterly foolish of her. Even more foolish was the fact that she had believed the Sheriff would help. After a short conversation, the man had sent her on her way. Had barely blinked when she had told him the situation. Rebecca knew the two men had never really gotten along—they had tried to kill each other the last time she had seen them in the same room together, after all—but she had thought… he would do something, at least, as a favor to her. But their carnal times together hadn't gained any favor. Sheriff Hood had looked at her as though she had only been a stranger.

It had stung.

In the end, she hadn't mattered to him. A good lay, probably, but not good enough to form an attachment to. Rebecca huffed as she watched the scenery go rushing by. After that massive failure, she and Burton had been looking all through Banshee with no clue in sight. They hadn't known where to look. It wasn't as though the Black Beards had caches anywhere. This wasn't their town. Their search was aimless and turning more and more fruitless as time went on. Her uncle could already be dead. And the tension Burton used to grip the steering wheel told her that he was losing hope, too. If only she hadn't been so foolish…

No. There must be something they could do, besides the mindless searching. Something… Deputy Lotus would have been an answer had he been at the Sheriff's department at the time of her plea. That ridiculous woman, who had also been taken, had been the man's ex-wife. She could have caught his sympathy due to their previous relation. But the deputy had been out patrolling, or on lunch, or doing some other trivial task. The opportunity hadn't presented itself. Still, there had to be another way to get help—some other thing she hadn't thought of yet.

Then it suddenly came to her. Previous relation. She sat up straight, eyes widening. She may have been physically sulking for the past half hour… But that didn't matter now. Now, she had something in mind. It was preposterous, but she was desperate. Burton was desperate. It might have been ridiculous, but it could end up working in their favor. She turned to the driver, noting that he hadn't shifted his gaze from the road again. "That woman," Rebecca began. "She can help us."

"No," Burton replied as though he had read her mind. She pursed her lips and turned her body to face his—an uncomfortable thing to do in a seatbelt, but she maintained her glare on his person. "She would be as helpful as the Sheriff."

"It's the only thing we've got left!" Rebecca exclaimed. "Despite his position, the Sheriff is still just a low ranking official in Banshee. If he won't help, we'll go above him. He'll have no choice then."

"How do you propose we convince a woman that has equally tried to take legal action against your uncle?" he asked. Rebecca frowned, unwilling to tell him. Burton's eyes finally shifted his eyes to her. For a moment, he was silent. She scowled in response. "What I told you was hard to find—with good reason, I'm certain."

"All that doesn't matter if my uncle dies, Clay!" Rebecca snapped. The man narrowed his eyes and visibly frowned. "We don't have another option right now. So turn the car around now." Burton breathed harshly through his nose, and then finally turned sharp eyes her way. Rebecca stared back, daring him to protest further. Admittedly, she would enjoy telling him what she would do for his insolence. The man still quite disliked her nude state, after all. Just as she was about to threaten him, Burton maneuvered the car in a degree of one eighty. Gasping at the sudden spin, Rebecca could only hold on tight as he sped down the road, back towards town. Once her heart stopped pounding against her ribcage, she turned a glare on Burton. "If you were going to do it anyway…" she trailed off, trying to convey her annoyance.

Rebecca saw the slight tug of his lips, and pouted the entire way there.

The trip didn't last long. Burton was as anxious as she. Or maybe he had decided to give into her petty whims in order to quickly resume looking for her uncle. Regardless, it took mere minutes to reach their destination. Once Burton put the car in park, Rebecca lifted her purse from the floor, and then moved to get out. A hand on her bare arm stopped her movements. She blinked once and focused on the hand that grabbed her. Skin against skin, Burton was touching her. Willingly. Narrowing her eyes, Rebecca shifted her gaze to the apathetic man. He remained unconcerned with her stare.

"Don't ask," he told her. "Don't beg. Demand."

Rebecca swallowed hard, unsure as to why her chest constricted. He was… encouraging her. Maybe. Burton had never done that before. It was quite the revelation. One that she couldn't dwell on right now. The young woman pursed her lips, and then aggressively snatched out of his grip. She opened the car door and stepped out. "This won't take long," she said. Burton frowned and withdrew his hand. She shut the door and held back a sigh. Of what, she didn't know. Rebecca lingered a bit longer than necessary at the passenger side door, but eventually she turned on her heel and headed towards the entrance.

With her head held high, Rebecca opened the door and walked in. With a focused stride, she moved towards the receptionist desk. Behind the counter was a man, obviously attempting to look busy on a computer. With dull grey eyes, he watched the monitor, seemingly enraptured with his task. She sized him up from her vantage point. Though he was sitting, she could tell he was of average height, slightly more muscled than the average man, but average all the same. Internally, she scoffed at the physical assessment. Maybe it had been harsh, but she had been around too many non-average males to give this one the benefit of the doubt.

If the peculiar man, covered in horrendous ink, at the Sheriff's office couldn't stop her, this one certainly couldn't deter her. With that thought in mind, Rebecca approached the desk. The man, now that she had a closer look, seemed to be young like her. Maybe older, but she couldn't be sure. She couldn't care less, really. Pointedly clearing her throat, she waited for the man to acknowledge her. The man glanced her way, almost uncaringly, and then tensed. She now had his full attention. "How may I help you?" he questioned, standing from his chair.

His eyes looked her up and down, obviously appreciating the sudden aesthetic view. Internally, Rebecca frowned. Lately, she had been spending so much time around men that wouldn't dare look at her that way because they knew who she was. Her relation kept most men from eyeing her like meat they planned on devouring. A brow lifted as a smirk touched her face. She had forgotten about it. Especially since she had chosen to share a bed with the most disinterested man on the planet.

"I'm here to see the District Attorney," Rebecca stated.

"Is she expecting you?" he questioned with a leer, taking her smirk as an invitation. "If not, I can call her up, let her know she has someone waiting for her. We can… keep each other company for the wait." Rebecca blinked, wondering why she suddenly felt annoyed by the casual flirt. She couldn't explain it, and right now she didn't care to.

"No thanks," she replied, just as casual. "I'll just head right in." It was a small building. No other person seemed to be waiting either. She'd come across the woman on her own. The man sputtered in protest, but made no move to stop her as she walked further into the building. However, she did hear him pick up the receiver to his phone. Hurried words from the man faded the farther away she got. Frown on her face, her eyes darted around in an attempt to spot the office she had had in mind.

Luckily, the doors were labeled. Pretty soon, she came to a door with the woman's title on a gold-plated plaque. Rebecca twisted the knob and pushed the door in. She was greeted by the sight of the District Attorney, sitting down at her desk, focused on paperwork. She barely acknowledged her visitor, choosing instead to keep writing. Rebecca scoffed, gaze averting to the corner of the room. Had she already been informed of her arrival? Well, she supposed that that average man calling for security was unlikely given his apparent infatuation with her appearance.

Gripping the straps to her purse, Rebecca cleared her throat. The woman stilled her hand and blinked slowly. Then she looked up, deep brown eyes sharpened on her person. Rebecca clenched her jaw. Under the woman's piercing gaze, she felt small. She had dealt with many men in her time away from her family. All of them thought they had power. None of them compared to her uncle in the end. However, this dark-skinned woman had a different type of power. No need for underlings. No need for fear. No need for relation. She exuded power all by herself. Somehow, Rebecca could sense it, and it made her question everything she had been doing this whole time.

The woman, Alison Medding, calmly set her pen down, and then clasped her hands together over the paper. "You are so bold for someone so young," she greeted. "Why are you here, Ms. Bowman?" Rebecca pursed her lips, not expecting the older woman to know her name. She hadn't expected to be recognized at all. Still, time was of the essence. She couldn't afford to be daunted.

"I assure you that I wouldn't be here if the Sheriff did his job," she replied. "My uncle has been taken by a crime syndicate known as the Black Beards. They kidnapped him, but when I went to report it, he did nothing. Said he couldn't help me."

"If you want to file a complaint against the Sheriff, there are proper channels you can go through," Alison coolly retorted. "It's not my job to reprimand him."

"I don't want him reprimanded. I want him to find my uncle," Rebecca stated.

"Then why are you here?"

She grit her teeth, a mix of annoyance and distress swirling within her. This woman wasn't asking to get more information. As casual as her tone had been, Rebecca could sense the slight condescending manner in which she spoke. In the end, no matter her responses, the answer would be no. Just because of who her uncle was. This song and dance was familiar. It reminded her of her parents. Silently, she breathed in through her nose and looked down for a moment. Still, for her uncle, she could toss away her own pride if she had to. Rebecca opened her mouth, prepared to do just that. "My uncle isn't the only one. Emily Lotus is gone, too," she explained. "They were both taken right in front of me."

"So you're a concerned citizen then?" Alison questioned. "It doesn't change much, Ms. Bowman. I can't do anything about that. Reporting a crime to me won't help you. If the Sheriff's department won't do anything, what makes you think I will?" The rebuffed feeling came back, and to her chagrin, the stinging around her eyes followed close behind. She dipped her chin, staring at the floor. God—how had she looked to everyone else? Like a child wanting to eat at the big dinner table? Rebecca swallowed rising bile, realizing that, yes, on some level, she was just a girl in the big cruel world. She had gotten by so far by the support of her uncle, and now that he was gone—likely to be killed—she was lost.

Don't ask. Rebecca blinked as words from Burton came to mind. Don't beg. She sucked in a silent breath. Demand. That's right—she couldn't falter in this. Begging hadn't helped with the Sheriff. It certainly wouldn't help with the District Attorney. Neither would crying uselessly like a child. She was a woman. She may have been more naïve than most, but considering her upbringing, what she knew now was enough. She had come here, seeking help, but that didn't mean she had to ask for it. She wouldn't leave without it. Blinking back tears and hardening her resolve, the young woman lifted her head to stare the District Attorney in the eye.

"Do you really think you're here based on your own merit?" Rebecca asked.

"Excuse me…?"

She blinked slowly and reared her head back a bit. With disbelief painted across her face, Alison raised a brow. In any other circumstance, Rebecca's resolve would have immediately wavered. Clearly, this was not the sort of woman anyone wanted to get angry. Only the foolish or ignorant would ever try. However, this was too important. Her uncle was in danger. Could very well be dying. She didn't have time to worry about possibly being strangled.

"I may not have grown up in this society, but I know it well enough to know that you, in the position of District Attorney, is a rarity," Rebecca explained. "You're young and female… and of African descent—a triple threat to older white men. The zealots of them would stop at nothing to bar you from such a high position. So it begs the question… Why are you here?"

"Just what-" She stood from her chair, finger nearly curling around the paper underneath her hands. "-are you implying, Ms. Bowman?" Her dark brown eyes narrowed. The power she exuded seemed to crackle around her. Rebecca pursed her lips in an effort to stifle an apology. She hadn't wanted to imply that, of course, but she could understand how her words could be taken as such. Then unexpectedly, Alison relaxed. She stood up straight and crossed her arms. "What does my position have to do with anything right now?"

"Maybe everything," Rebecca said. The corners of her lips curled into a smirk. "So much power you have, and yet so unaware of why." She showed her teeth as the older woman frowned. "My uncle is the reason you're here."

"That's a laugh," Alison snapped without humor.

"It's the only thing I can think of actually," Rebecca continued, not bothered by the glare being directed her way. "I know a secret about you… and my uncle. You have more in common than you realize, and maybe that's why you've lived comfortably this whole time."

"Get out of my office. Now."

"You don't want to know what my uncle has to do with your mother?" Her feigned confusion was a nice touch. Alison's narrowed eyes widened at the mention of her mom. Hook. She let out a sharp breath and shook her head just a bit. Line. The tension in the older woman's face told her everything she needed to know. Sinker. "I found out not too long ago. My uncle started his business with a partner. Her name was Arita Morgan. Isn't that your mother's name?"

"My mother has nothing to do with Kai Proctor," Alison protested, though it seemed to be an effort to convince herself.

Yes. She had planted the seed effectively. "Are you positive?" Rebecca questioned. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're protected, riding on the coat-tails of my uncle's power, based purely on the relationship he had with your mother. He's like… your guardian angel." The frown on the woman's face deepened, yet she said nothing. "Then again, I don't know much about it. I just found a picture of her in my uncle's desk. Now that I'm looking… you look almost the same as her. Whatever their relation, he just couldn't ignore you. Why else do you think you were followed?"

Alison flinched, and Rebecca knew then that the hook had been twisted. Burton had told her of his extracurricular activities days after the incident at the CADI. He, too, had questioned why he had been ordered to follow the District Attorney around. Looks like the task had worked in their favor. The older woman had known about the order, and had been questioning it as well. "I know what you're doing," Alison said. "You think by giving vague information, I'll give in. Cut a deal to learn more. It's been done before and by much more subtle action than yours."

"It doesn't matter if the action is subtle or not—only that it works," Rebecca said. "And it's not a deal that I'm looking for. Because I don't know anything else. Your mother and my uncle—they were partners when it came to Proctor Meats. That's all I know. Sure, I can make assumptions like anyone, but the only one alive who really knows the truth is my uncle. He's the only one that truly knows why you've been given special treatment."

"… Get out of my office," Alison repeated.

Her tone had been much more subdued than the last time, though. Rebecca nodded her head, smirk widening. They both knew the result of this confrontation. She didn't very well know the woman, but Rebecca realized that she wouldn't let the truth go. She may have played with her uncertainties, but the fact remained that Alison was the District Attorney for a reason. She wouldn't be able to help herself. "I'll be seeing you around, DA Medding," Rebecca told her, and then turned. Without a backwards glance, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Once she was safely out of in the hallway, she released a silent ragged breath. The whole thing had been nerve-wracking, but she was confident that things had turned in her favor. Swallowing hard, she turned to face the door, staring at the golden plaque. Her uncle would be saved because now he had something someone important wanted. Information was a powerful thing, wasn't it? Rebecca licked her lips and grinned at the sudden realization. Perhaps this wouldn't be the last time she would use information to get what she wanted.

0-0

"Sir, we have a situation." Kurt walked into Hood's office, noting that the man hadn't left his place on the couch. Ever since he had come in, he had been sitting there, stare as blank as the wall he watched. Kurt pressed his lips into a thin line. The Sheriff hadn't acknowledged his presence. After what had happened here, Kurt could understand the detachment. Maybe he had needed more time off… But he was here now. "Sir…?" Kurt tried again. This time, Hood looked up.

"What is it, Bunker?" he asked.

"I just got off the phone with the District Attorney…'s office," Kurt explained. "That girl that was here earlier—she told the DA about her uncle."

"Of course she did," Hood murmured in a huff. "But Alison wouldn't care about Proctor."

"It's not him she's concerned about, I think. Someone else was taken—a… Emily Lotus."

"WHAT?!" The shout came from the next room over. As the glass hadn't been repaired yet, it was just an open window between the Sheriff's office and where the deputies' desks were. Lotus had been at his desk, eating lunch. Kurt had tried to be quiet, but apparently, it hadn't worked. The man abruptly stood and aggressively made his way around to come through the door. The Sheriff sighed heavily. "Emily's been taken? What the fuck are we gonna do?!"

"What? What does your ex-wife have to do with Proctor?" Hood questioned, expression twisted into confusion. Kurt turned to his fellow deputy, wanting to know as well. Alison hadn't known the answer, and she hadn't cared. He, himself, had immediately recognized the name, and had wondered about the relation. Apparently, the woman and his coworker had been married at some point. Lotus balked at the question, and his hostile demeanor had simmered down. Hands on his belt, he began pacing.

"She, uh, took care of his mother," Lotus stated.

"His mother's dead, Brock," Hood stated.

"I know… They, uh…" He visibly swallowed, hesitant on clarifying, but the implication had been enough. Proctor and his former wife had been involved. On a level much deeper than employer and employee. The Sheriff groaned loudly, placing his face in his hands, obviously coming to the same conclusion. "Yeah, tell me about it. Alright, look—I'm gonna have Bunker and Raven set up checkpoints. We'll call the state police. Go door to door—the whole nine yards! Bunker, go radio Raven."

"Yes, sir," Kurt nodded, and then turned to do as instructed.

"No," the Sheriff halted his walk. "No—they're probably long gone by now. We're not doing that. We're not doing anything."

"What?!" Lotus raised his voice, becoming worked up again. "Why the hell not?!"

"Brock, I'm not gonna get involved."

"No! Listen to me, Hood!" he continued in a shout. "I have put my ass on the line for you more than once. All right? Now I'm asking you. Please."

"Excuse me, sir…" Kurt hesitantly interrupted before the Sheriff could retort. Both of them looked his way, almost like they had forgotten he was in the same room. "Whatever the reasons, we don't have a choice. DA Medding was clear that she wants this situation handled. And if she gets any indication that we're not doing our jobs again, she'll launch an official internal investigation."

"You've got to me fucking kidding me," the Sheriff replied.

"Her words, sir," Kurt supplied, holding himself back from smiling.

"Sounds like her," Lotus scoffed lightly.

"Fine, but give me a few minutes." Hood sighed again. "I need to think of something. I'll let you know what I can do."

"Sir." Kurt nodded his head, and then headed out of the office. He heard the sound of his fellow deputy following after. He sat at his desk, and immediately picked up the phone. Billy had been out patrolling, but he would come back if he knew his job might be on the line.

Alison had been quite serious. Kurt wondered the reason for that. To his knowledge, she had wanted nothing to do with Proctor—not after the man had had her followed. Even if another civilian had been taken as well, would she go to such lengths as to threaten to shut down the entire department? The answer was yes. Alison was a professional. She took her job seriously. It wasn't that surprising now that he thought about it. Maybe she thought she had had to threaten in order for the Sheriff to actually do something.

With a click, Kurt heard the line pick up. After exchanging hellos, he told Billy about what had happened. His fellow deputy agreed to come back to the CADI to await further orders. Kurt hung up the phone, and proceeded to wait for the Sheriff. Within fifteen minutes, Hood approached Lotus and himself with news. He had a contact that had given an area that Proctor could have been held. They—the Sheriff and Lotus—would go and begin the search there. Kurt, and Billy, would have to be on standby in case the two were needed as backup.

So he sat there, waiting and anxious to hear anything about this particular investigation. He was sure the Sheriff could handle it, but… Kurt couldn't help but wonder. His thoughts were eventually interrupted by the sight of Billy coming in. His coworker immediately approached his desk, asking about the situation. "The Sheriff wants us to wait here in case we're needed as backup," Kurt explained. "The area they're searching isn't too far off."

"So I should turn my ringer on then?" Billy asked.

"If it's still the theme song from COPS, then just keep it on vibrate."

His fellow deputy cackled loudly as he went over to his own desk and sat down. Kurt refrained from rolling his eyes. As a joke, Billy had changed his ringtone after he had found out that Kurt had seen Bad Boys II. Probably more than he should have. Alison, herself, had remarked that him watching it seemed a bit religious like… Kurt cleared his throat and began shuffling papers around his desk.

"So…" Billy began. Kurt held back a sigh. Christ, he knew this was coming. "You never told me what happened…"

"I don't know what you mean," Kurt replied. He knew exactly what Billy had meant. The man had been beside himself with excitement, barely keeping his fidgets to himself. Obviously, he had wanted to interrogate as soon as Kurt had walked in. However, both the Sheriff and Lotus had come back from their vacation. Their presence had put a damper on Billy's intention to drill with numerous questions. But now they were gone.

"Come on, Bunk!" he urged. "You've been walking on air all day! Just tell me what happened last night!"

Kurt pressed his lips together. It was an effort to keep the smile off his face. He still didn't understand how Billy was able to read him so well. He had believed he had come into work the same as always. The second Billy had spotted him, he had nearly choked on a shrill gasp. He had just known something good had happened. Like Kurt had walked in with a shit-eating grin on his face when he hadn't. Keeping what he felt inside was problematic when Billy was around.

"… She… didn't give me a restraining order," Kurt muttered. His fellow deputy merely blinked several times, obviously wanting elaboration. "She didn't want to. She… She actually missed me. Just as much." Just thinking about it made it harder to keep from smiling. Billy looked on, not trying to conceal his eagerness for more. "We talked… and came to an understanding."

"Yeah…?!"

"Why are you so interested in my personal life again?"

"Because we get bored easily. I can happily tell you about my personal life if you want."

"You do."

"Then we're even," Billy stated. "Now spill." With an exaggerated sigh, Kurt shut his eyes. Reluctantly, he began telling his coworker about last night. Not everything. Obviously. But apparently he had said enough to where Billy could infer just fine. By the time, the recalling of last night—and this morning—had been finished, his grin had stretched so wide that it looked painful. Kurt grimaced at the sight. "Good for you, Bunk," he commended. "I'm glad for you. Now I don't have to watch you wallow in self-pity anymore."

"Shut up," Kurt said without bite.

"Seriously, though, you finally going to tell me who she is?" Billy asked.

"No," he replied immediately.

"Why not? You don't trust me?"

"… It's not about trust," Kurt stated, though he was sure that Billy had only asked as a joke. Or… had they already reached that level in their relationship? Where trust was expected? Shaking the thought from his mind for now, Kurt focused on the present. "I can't risk anyone finding out about her. If the Brotherhood got wind…" Christ, he didn't want to think about it.

"The Brotherhood…" Billy repeated. "They're still around then?"

"Yes," he muttered, feelings of embarrassment flowed through him as memories of his past came to mind. Grieving and drunk off stolen power. He had been a monster. Kurt breathed in sharply through his nose, stomping down the memories. His past was far behind him in terms of time, but every time he thought about it, it all came rushing back as though it happened yesterday. "I was in a bad state of mind back then." Billy hummed, but the intent was lost on Kurt. "I can't let them know about her. She'll be made a target." He swallowed hard. "I won't let that happen."

"So they don't know you're back?"

"I've been keeping a low profile."

"You're literally a Nazi-cop." Kurt glared in his direction. Billy only shrugged indifferently. "Well, you look like one. In a small town like this, they would have heard something. It's weird they haven't approached you yet." Kurt had to agree with that. It was weird, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. As long as they didn't seek him out, he could…

His gaze dropped down to his desk. Could what exactly? He hadn't been thinking about his former associates recently. An image of a smiling Alison popped into his mind. She had been a perfect distraction. He had willingly become distracted by her, sinking deeper and deeper into her that he had forgotten his original objective. He had come back to Banshee, Pennsylvania to right the wrong, destroy the Brotherhood—die trying if he had to. But it had been placed on the backburner in favor of Alison Medding. She had given him something he wanted to hold on to. And she felt so good. In every sense of the word. He didn't want to give that up. Now that he had it.

Messing around with the Brotherhood now could cost him more than he had been willing to give up previously. His life wasn't forfeit anymore. Kurt wanted to be selfish. Not just for Alison, but… Billy, too. Not to mention his job. He had a life again—a good one—and tangling with the Brotherhood again after so long seemed unnecessary now.

"Bunk, I hear you. I do—I won't ask anymore," Billy's voice cut through his musings. Kurt looked up, eyes on his fellow deputy. The man nodded his head. "I understand you want to keep her safe, and that's good." Kurt cleared his throat and returned the nod. "But let me ask you this…" He scratched his head as a shit-eating grin made its way onto his face. Both eyebrow rose as he continued. "You call her goddess last night?"

"Shut up!" Kurt retorted, feeling heat surge to his cheeks.

0-0

The moment she walked in, a sense of dismay fell over her. Her thoughts immediately shifted to regret as she walked through the throngs of drunken men and scantily clad women. Still, she kept her head high as she moved through the gentlemen's club. Savoy. It was owned by Kai Proctor—his second business that just might be another front for illegal activities. Of course, it could never be proven. Too many times, he had been able to escape the judicial system. Too many times he had been able to get out of whatever trouble had found him. Or he had found himself.

Alison huffed lightly as her gaze darted around the establishment. She had unintentionally played a part in his rescue. If it could be called that. The Sheriff had called her himself to let her know that Emily Lotus had been retrieved, and that Proctor had gotten out himself. Typical. She was just annoyed that he had come out of it thanks to her own doing. His crazy niece had been manipulative. She had recognized the tactic, and yet it had still worked. Alison couldn't let that insufferable man die without… without knowing what connection he might have had with her mother.

It probably wasn't any of her business, but she had been fretful all day because of it. What could her mother possibly have to do with such a man? He was a criminal, probably had always been that way. There had been rumors of his past, but most—if not all—were more ridiculous each time she had heard the story. The only common denominator had been that Proctor had been a part of the Amish community at some point in his life. However, those ties had been frayed some time ago. In between leaving that community behind and becoming the bane of Banshee—that remained a mystery. Still, it shouldn't have anything to do with her mother.

Regardless, she wouldn't leave until she had her answers. And she knew he was here. She had seen his car and recognized the license plate. Building a case against Proctor, and including even trivial things, didn't seem for nothing at the moment. No one had stopped her. Not the dancers, not the bouncers. Sure, they looked her way, expressions varying between confusion and surprise, but they made no move to impede her walk to the back office. Perhaps they recognized her as the District Attorney, or perhaps they were too stunned to make a move. Whatever the case, she would take full advantage.

Straightening her back, Alison stared at the door. Proctor was behind it, and much likely his bodyguard. Perhaps she should not have come alone, but it was too late to turn back now. Breathing in deeply, she knocked on the door. Loudly and perhaps harder than necessary. She waited until a muffled voice told her to come in. With a purpose, she opened the door and strolled in. Her eyes settled on the occupants of the room. As expected, Proctor stood there, looking unconcerned with her presence. He looked worse for wear—cuts and forming bruises were scattered across his face. He had obviously taken a beating by these so called Black Beards. However, his clothes were spotless, so he must have already been patched up.

Alison shifted her eyes to the second person in the room. Wearing the same black dress, Rebecca Bowman stared back at her. She blinked once, and then a tiny knowing smirk tugged at her lips. Annoying. The girl was definitely annoying, and would probably be a pain in the ass later. Keeping the huff to herself, Alison returned her line of sight the tailor suited man. His assistant didn't appear to be in the room. Good for everyone as far as she was concerned.

"Proctor," she greeted.

"Medding, always a pleasure," he returned. Alison frowned and narrowed her eyes. "To what do I owe this one?" She crossed her arms. "Not a friendly visit then? Unfortunate." Proctor sucked in a breath, and then turned towards his niece. "Rebecca, join Burton outside. I will be along shortly."

"Yes, uncle," Rebecca replied with a nod, but kept her eyes on Alison. She scoffed lightly, and then turned to head out of the side door to Proctor's office. Alison decided to ignore her for now.

She returned her full attention to Proctor the moment the door clicked shut. "To cut to the chase, your niece came to my office today about your… situation," she began. "Normally, I wouldn't be involved with something like this, but she was quite convincing. You see, she knew something—just a tidbit, but it was enough to have me light a fire under the Sheriff's ass. I need to know if it's true. If so, I'm not leaving without an explanation." Enough was enough. Ever since that night where she had almost died, she had been avoiding Proctor. Anything at all to do with him. She had been… afraid of the answers. She hadn't wanted to think about it. But now, the unknown was trickling into her life. Her work. She couldn't allow that to continue.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific," Proctor said.

"Your niece said that we have something in common," Alison nearly blurted. Not as composed as she would have liked, but the man had a habit of getting on her nerves with a quickness. "Is that true?" To his credit, the man didn't react to the question. Admittedly, he had a talent for keeping his expression blank in the face of a prosecutor. "I'm not here as the District Attorney. I'm here as my mother's daughter. Why does your niece think that that something… is Arita Medding?" For a long while, Proctor didn't speak. He merely stared, eyes completely unreadable. Alison stared back at him, forcing herself not to become unnerved the longer the silence went on.

Finally, Proctor sighed. He sat down in the chair that had been directly behind him. "Fate is a strange thing, wouldn't you agree?" He gave a half-smile and dropped his gaze. "I was to live out my life like my father. Closed off from the rest of the world. Only devoted to God and my family. And then fate decreed that I was to die. I was a young man—not even a man. My end would have come by the venom from a rattlesnake. Fortunately, I was saved. Unexpectedly." He paused, most likely thinking back. Alison narrowed her eyes, debating if she should interrupt this stroll down memory lane. "That was a turning point," Proctor continued. "Staring death in the face has a way of… changing one's perspectives. I wasn't the same person after that experience."

"Cut the bullshit, Proctor," Alison cut in. She hadn't come here for his personal origin. "Did you know my mother or not?"

His clear blue eyes slowly looked back at her. The half-smile had left his face. "Yes, I knew her," Proctor answered. Alison swallowed hard, hoping the way her breath had caught had gone unnoticed. "Before she became Arita Medding. She was a… beautiful and magnificent woman. Loyal to a fault. Proud and dangerous. The more I knew her, the more taken I was with her. She helped me build Proctor Meats from the ground up."

"You're lying," Alison shook her head. Although it couldn't be proven, that business was a cover up for his criminal activities. Her mother wouldn't… couldn't be a part of something like that.

"What reason do I have to lie to you?" Proctor asked. "Without my knowledge, Rebecca has stumbled across information that has been long since forgotten and has given a piece of that to you. I'm sure you have your questions. And I'm sure you wouldn't have come only to deny what you hear. I assure you, this is the truth." A silent strained breath left her as she held herself tighter. "You look so much like her. It's no wonder I couldn't stop myself from coming to your aid several times."

"Several…?" Alison repeated in disbelief. She scoffed lightly. "No, it was only the once. I hadn't even heard of you until I became the ADA. How could it possibly be several times?"

"I assume you're referring to that horrible night at the Sheriff's department? The night that my mother died while I was stuck in that cage?"

"My condolences," Alison bit out.

"… That wasn't the first time," Proctor continued, seemingly going to ignore the tetchy tone. "No. The first time, you were young and empty. Sixteen, if I remember correctly." For a long moment, her breath left her. She stared at him, stunned and disbelieving. "In that wide, open field, so far away from civilization, where no one could hear you screaming, I watched your mother physically break you… so that you wouldn't be broken again. My idea, of course. Your mother's heart broke seeing the empty shell you had become, and so I told her… The only way she would have her daughter back was to break the shell."

"You're lying," Alison repeated. "You weren't there. You couldn't've…"

"I was," Proctor insisted. "I was the one with the Taser." And just like that, her world completely veered off course. Her body began trembling and her heart felt like it gave out. Paralyzed by the new information, Alison could only stand there, letting her arms fall to her sides. "I do realize that that was a traumatic event for you. Your mother beating you so severely must have skewed your memories to the point of erasing me completely. But… I was there. I watched your mother inflict pain on you—far worse than what happened that night. An effort—one that worked—to bring you back to life. But it wasn't enough. So I found the men that hurt you. I watched her make sure that they wouldn't hurt you, or anyone, ever again." Her lips parted as the implication processed. Jesus Christ… Her mother…? "Fate is a strange thing," Proctor said again. "I truly think none of that would have happened had she not fallen for your father. Had she only agreed to be mine, then you would have been mine. And I would never allow you be put in a position where the opportunity to rape could come about."

"I…" She didn't know what to say. What could she say to that? It had been too much information. It had been dizzying to comprehend, and she honestly felt sick.

Proctor stood up from his chair and stepped towards her. Alison remained frozen, rooted to the spot. "I would have done anything for her—Arita…" He spoke her name as though its very essence was water, and he was a man dying of thirst. Like he hadn't spoken her name in so long. He shut his eyes for a moment, hand reaching to rub the unmarred part of his forehead. "So when she came to me, years later with no contact whatsoever, I did what I could and covered up your bullshit. Your reckless behavior that resulted in a child being hospitalized—a lot of money was spent on that endeavor. Then off to college you went. Who knew that you would return as a prosecutor? Certainly not me. But your mother had died, and I… was left with you. Her daughter. The last of her left in this world. But you had made yourself a target, Alison."

The use of her name jolted her back to reality. Although everything suddenly felt heavy, she forced herself to speak. "What… What do you mean?" Her voice had sounded small. Constricted. Dry and feeble. She, herself, hadn't recognized it.

"All those men you put away, did you not once consider why there was no retaliation?" Proctor asked. "A group like that are a vengeful lot. Full of self-righteousness and hate. The large number put behind bars was because of you. They would not have left someone like you alone. Fortunately, you had my support. Because of your mother, you will always have my support. So go forth and play in the valley of the shadow of death. Do not fear evil. For I am with you." Coming from anyone else, those words would have been consoling. But coming from a man like Proctor, she felt vile just listening.

No… No… No. This could not be. Not him. Not Proctor. Her mother had lied in bed with him. Her mother had been a criminal. Her mother… Had she truly known her at all? Alison swallowed, but that proved to be difficult. The man looked on in sympathy, and that did not help at all.

"Fate is a strange thing," Proctor reiterated. "For all our praying and belief, He doesn't care. He watches our fate play out and does nothing. I should have learned long ago that fate is bullshit. We alone have the power to shape our lives. When I left my family, I should have stopped allowing the will of God to dictate me completely." He stepped forward again, and Alison found herself backing away. He accepted her withdrawal with a nod of his head. "I will be gone for a time on business. When I return, I hope to speak further about our relationship. Goodnight, Alison."

Her eyes watched him as he left his office the same way his niece had gone, but her mind hadn't paid attention. It was too busy reeling with the overload of information that had spewed from his mouth. Not only had Proctor implied that her mother had been a criminal, but he also had blatantly stated that he had shaped her life. Almost every action she had made had derived from his idea of breaking her. And her mother had gone along with it.

A sharp exhale of air left her mouth, and her fingers curled into a hard fist. And suddenly she had trouble breathing. Gasps raked her body and she felt cold and numb, dread spreading like poison in her veins. She needed to calm down. She needed to breathe. She needed to get out. Just get out.

So she started moving. She turned around and left Proctor's office, forcing herself to take deep breaths. The pain in her chest only increased as tears gathered in her eyes. She stumbled her way out to the main floor, sight blurred, and trembles becoming full blown shakes. The flashing lights and the obnoxious catcalls were ignored in favor of rushing towards the exit. The ambience was just muffled echoes, distorted by her own reality crashing down around her.

Alison had just made it to her car when the first sob had ripped through her body and burst from her mouth. Fumbling, she unlocked the door and quickly settled into the driver's seat. She didn't start the car. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel as the tears finally slid from her eyes. More sobs escaped.

Truth and lies had become warped and hazy, and she couldn't see anymore. Every thought. Every action. Every spoken word. It all meant nothing. Her mother. Proctor. All the fucking deceit. She had been a fool. Alison opened her mouth and screamed. She screamed even as her lungs burned at the exertion. She continued screaming and crying. Crying and screaming. Because her world had been twisted into something unrecognizable. Because her world had been ripped away from her. Because… her world had never truly been hers in the first place.

So she screamed. And she screamed. And she screamed.

0-0

Little to no interaction between Alison and Kurt this chapter, but I assure you that it was necessary. Next chapter will be so much longer and will contain fluff.