In the midst of throwing away trash, Alison heard a vehicle. Normally, she would not make note of it, but given the circumstances, her body immediately tensed. She stood up from her desk chair, and then walked into the kitchen. She could still hear the vehicle. The sound slowed, obviously coming from her driveway. Quickly, Alison moved to the sink and drew back the curtains. The sun had only begun to set, so she could clearly see the vehicle drive around the corner to park alongside her car. Her shoulders sagged in relief, recognizing the truck and the occupant. A slow breath left her as she straightened her form. She lowered her arm, and then moved towards the backdoor. Without a second thought, she unlocked the door, and then moved away to check the food in the oven.
Really, she had only put the meal in a few minutes beforehand. No, the action was to give her something to do—to calm her suddenly rattled nerves—as she waited for her guest to enter. Moments later, there came a knocking at the door. Ever polite. Pressing her lips together, Alison forced herself away from the stove and back to the door. As she grasped the doorknob, she willed herself to calm down. She had been expecting this all day. No need to become flustered now. With that thought in mind, Alison twisted the knob and opened the door.
Of course, Kurt Bunker stood on the other side. Dressed in his uniform, he visibly relaxed at the sight of her, perhaps content in knowing she and Naomi had been safe whilst he had been away. Alison felt her brow furrowing. He seemed… different. She could not particularly explain it. Despite being in uniform, which Alison privately thought him the most handsome—professional and ready to serve and protect—Kurt obviously did not have the thought of his job on his mind now. Understanding that she might have been staring too long, she cleared her throat. She stood aside and opened the door further.
"Hey," Kurt greeted as he stepped inside.
"Hi," Alison returned, hoping she did not sound strained. In his hands, he held two holdall bags. For a moment, she watched him take in his new surroundings. Even with his back turned to her, she could tell his gaze darted around. Only after he slowly turned to face her did Alison continue speaking. "I made space for your things already. I brought an extra dresser up from the basement, too, so you should have plenty of room." Polite and almost businesslike despite the situation. He was not just a guest. For an unforeseeable length of time, he would be a roommate. An actual roommate. Of course, she would not allow her child's father to sleep on the couch. They would be sleeping in the same room for many nights. Alison had nearly demanded it since he had been so against the idea when discussing it prior.
"Thank you," Kurt said. He tilted his body, and just for a second, Alison thought he might thank her with more than just words. However, his hands were full. Kurt averted his gaze and straightened. Alison swallowed hard, feeling a bit disappointed. Jesus Christ. His presence in her home would take some getting used to. Just because they would be living together—a family unit—did not mean she should expect certain intimacies. Kurt cleared his throat and returned his gaze to her. "Where's Naomi?"
"Oh, she's in the living room," Alison replied. She silently sighed before moving around him. She did not have the biggest kitchen anymore, so their bodies brushed against each other. She could not stop the sudden warmth in her cheeks, and grimaced because of it. Seemingly not noticing, Kurt followed close behind. Her bare feet against the floor followed by the soles of his shoes. Alison spotted her daughter playing with her building blocks. Not yet noticing her parents' approach, Naomi continued stacking the brightly colored cubes. "Hey, baby girl, guess who's here?"
No guessing, Naomi immediately looked up. Her eyes widened as her gaze settled on her father's form. She stood, and in her haste knocked over the blocks. "Dabun!" she exclaimed as she dashed from the living room and into the den, straight into Kurt's legs. The man dropped his bags and lifted his daughter up high. "Dabun is here!" Delighted laughter followed the gleeful statement. Kurt lowered his arms and pressed several kisses to Naomi's face. Alison could not help but smile at the scene. It warmed her heart considerably, especially when her daughter exaggeratedly returned the affection. Father and daughter hugged one another for a moment, simply reveling in each other's presence.
Alison took that moment to assess. In such a short amount of time, the two of them had grown to love each other unconditionally. Sure, she had nudged her daughter into recognizing the man as hers, but it had not taken very long for Naomi to attach herself. And vice-versa. Looking at them now, she could not believe she had had thoughts of them slowly warming up to one another. Honestly, she thought it would take close to a year for them. Kurt had always been reserved. It had taken her quite some time to reach the point of truly knowing him. Three months, if she recalled, for him to come out of his shell. Naomi could be just as taciturn—and stubborn—as her father. Most of the time, she was a carefree kid with an easy temperament. Other times, she wanted to be left to her own devices. Quiet and concentrating on whatever tasks. So much like her father. Even before Naomi had asked for her daddy, Alison already had inklings of returning to Banshee, mostly because of the similar characteristics she had noticed within her child. For one, they had the same dorky-ass grin.
"Alright," Alison said, interrupting their embrace. They only reared back, choosing to keep their arms around each other. "Let's show Daddy Bunker the rest of the house, hm?" Naomi gave a toothy grin and nodded her head. Alison smiled in return, and then reached down to grab both discarded bags. They were a bit on the light side. She hoped that Kurt packed necessary things and would not have to venture back to his home. "Follow me," she said, already heading for the staircase.
"Yes, ma'am," Kurt said.
Alison paused just before reaching the first step. The way he had answered seemed odd to her. She felt the same shift earlier at the door. Kurt rarely called her ma'am. When he had, they had been in public and needed to keep up with appearances. However, Alison had realized that it was a nervous tick with him. The more polite he became, the more his nerves stretched. But… Alison could not sense any nervousness in his voice. In fact, this particular ma'am almost seemed playful. Like he had been a second away from smiling. Alison felt herself frowning as she made her way up the stairs. Not that it had been an unpleasant occurrence, but she could not deny the oddity of it. Ultimately, she was curious.
She chose not to voice her curiosity while she showed him the upper floor of the house. His gaze, she realized, never left her as she pointed out various things about the three rooms. To the left, the bathroom, where she first felt the intensity on her skin. Then, Naomi's room, where she experienced some reprieve as her daughter temporarily took the role of tourist guide, enthusiastically telling her father of her favorite spots in the room. Lastly, the master bedroom. His gaze returned and caused shivers. Naomi had been dropped in her room, so there was no longer a… a buffer. Just him and her. Jesus Christ. His piercing eyes roamed along her body. Alison thought she might stumble as she placed his bags on the bed. It was distracting.
Finally, she willed herself to face him. As expected, Kurt looked at her. Alison parted her lips, words at the tip of her tongue, but the way he looked at her halted the words before they could form. Despite his reticent nature, his eyes had always been expressive. More than a few times, she had vivid thoughts of those eyes. Here and now, his eyes were completely unguarded. So deep, Alison had a thought of drowning in them. The way he stared so unwavering caused a rush of heat to her cheeks. Similar, if not the same, heat she saw in his eyes. It seemed like he wanted to use more than just his eyes on her skin. He was not hiding it. Unguarded windows to the soul. Jesus Christ.
Alison blinked and tilted her head down. Fingers idly reaching to fiddle with the hem of her pink silk pajama shirt. Under his gaze, she became conscious of her decision to wear shorts instead of pants. How was she supposed to react to him—live with him—with thoughts like this on her mind? Hell, she could have misinterpreted his gaze. Projecting what she felt instead. Then, of course, her mind conjured the kiss they had shared just yesterday before Randall Watts became their problem. Alison swallowed hard, hesitantly lifting her line of sight. Kurt's stare remained, but the heat was gone now. Alison almost breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you for this," Kurt began, voice a deep rumble. "I made sure I wasn't followed on my way here."
"Good…" Alison said. She sighed, calming her nerves. "Good," she said with more conviction. She might have confidence they could fend off attackers, but she did not want an invitation to them either. It was better to be careful now despite her faith in them. She clasped her hands together. "So, dinner's in the oven. By the time you unpack, and maybe take a shower, it should be ready. Towels are in the bathroom closet. Drop your clothes in the laundry chute and I'll throw in a load." Alison was quite aware that she rambled. The state of her nerves was on full display, and yet she could not snap her mouth shut. "There's an ironing board in the basement, and a clothesline, so don't worry about wrinkles. You'll be living here for some time, so think of it as your home. You don't have to ask-"
"Thank you, Alison," Kurt cut in before her rambles could continue. "You've been more than good to me. I appreciate it." Alison nodded her head. "After dinner… after Naomi's asleep, I want to talk to you.
"Right," Alison said. "Of course." She had things to tell him as well. Surely, Kurt would not wear his uniform without reason. He must have thought it necessary for whatever task he set out to do today. Moreover, she wanted to ask him how the pick-up went. "Then… I'll let you get to it." She nodded once more before moving to walk through the open door. Halting at the threshold, she looked back at him. Kurt had turned to watch her leave. Alison pursed her lips. "I'm… I'm glad you're here," she told him. Though, it might have been temporary. He was, for the moment, safe.
"Me, too," Kurt replied. "I'm glad I can be here."
Alison gave him a smile and he returned it. Having him here might be for naught considering her answer to Proctor's proposal, but it still felt good. If danger found him, she would rather be close by and able to do something. Not on the other side of town, worrying if this night could be the night. She did not want him to be alone. He would not be vulnerable here. As long as she remained his partner. Finally, Alison took her leave, shutting the door behind her. She was certain they had plenty to talk about. It was best to use this time in order to get her own thoughts together before speaking to him. With a soft sigh, she walked down the hallway, organizing the thoughts in her head.
Nearly on autopilot, Alison went back downstairs, plucking Naomi from her room on the way. A horde of thoughts ran through her mind as her body went through the motions. A plan needed hashing. She had to tell Kurt about Proctor. A backup for that lack of protection was needed. So far, nothing came to mind. Other than with bloodshed. How easy it would have been had she been a common criminal. Taking care of her problems with violence almost seemed preferable in this situation. No matter how long she planned and calculated by herself, nothing feasible formed. Nothing legal formed. Except self-defense. As she recalled, Kurt had come up with something similar, though he never got around to discussing it with her. Provoke The Brotherhood instead of seeking them out. But how could they do that without starting a full-scale war? With them outnumbering the police force, war would be a slaughter.
Alison continued to let the thoughts distract her. As the night went on, she worried and fretted about… the unavoidable. There had been instances where she had been pulled from her thoughts. Like when Kurt had come down the stairs dressed in nightwear. There had been a short, amicable, conversation about dinner and laundry, but ultimately, her mind drifted again. Until they—their family—sat at the dinner table and ate. Naomi positively loved using her plastic ware to feed her father. Kurt had played along quite nicely. That had provided a longer time from thinking too deeply about what may come. Admittedly, after dinner, when father and daughter played together, had been enough to keep the worry at bay as well. Then, watching Kurt read Naomi a bedtime story made her melt inwardly. More than once, Alison had forced herself not to reach for her phone in order to take pictures and recordings. Her phone was already near bursting with photos and videos.
It had not been the first time Alison had seen these interactions between father and daughter. However, it felt different on a fundamental level. She briefly wondered the reason for that. Maybe the location? Seeing him settling in so easily despite the change had been nice. Especially since it normally took time for Kurt to become at ease with variation. Maybe, Kurt, himself? He seemed more tranquil than normal. Like he had reached some type of enlightenment. Like he was at peace with the world. Despite the looming threat on his life. Curious that he would behave in such a way. Maybe he had reached a point that he could allow the negatives to fade from his mind, and consequently react to things as they came. Alison wished she could do the same.
With a heavy sigh, she shut her eyes and lowered her head. She almost missed the basement door opening but the creak of it caught her attention. Silently breathing in, Alison reached for the remote controller. So deep in her thoughts, she had not been watching whatever marathon. Still, she understood the following conversation did not need outside distractions. She already had too many potential ones swimming in her head. Kurt shut the basement door as he turned off the light in the kitchen. Then he walked towards the living room—specifically towards her. Alison shut off the power to the TV.
"Find everything you needed down there?" she asked, turning her eyes back to his form.
"We have different preferences for the scent of laundry, but yes," Kurt replied. Alison's mouth twitched, fighting back a smile at his humor. "Everything I need is already here." She no longer tried to fight the smile. Whatever his intent, she felt warmed by the implication. Kurt sat down beside her, and in the back of her mind, Alison noted how small the distance was between them. "What did you find out today?" he asked. Alison could not help the sigh that left her mouth. "Was it that bad?"
"More on the… horrifying side," she admitted, angling herself more towards him. "A week ago, the decision to keep Randall Watts in prison was made. It had been unanimous. Then, all of a sudden, paperwork for his release began processing. One of the board members overturned his decision and, I guess, convinced the others. He got out yesterday afternoon into his daughter's care. So he has a halfway house and a job, thanks to his benefactor."
"Benefactor…?" Kurt repeated.
"… Kai Proctor," Alison stated. Kurt furrowed his brow. "It should have clicked before. He has hidden ties to The Brotherhood. Why wouldn't he take measures to get a former leader out? When I realized it was him, I contacted him to get answers. I mean, why would he wait so long? It's been nearly a decade. I thought, maybe, there was some type of conflict between himself and his… employees." Alison snorted lightly. "Using Watts to bring the rest to a heel before things could escalate." Kurt nodded his head in agreement. "That was… only part of the reason, though. Talking with Proctor, I pried the truth out of him. I can't say for certain what the true trigger was, but he also released Watts because of me."
"Because of you?" Kurt murmured. "Why would it be because of you?" Then comprehension colored his expression just as much as the angry flush. "He threatened you," he said. Alison nodded her head, though his words had not been posed as a question. "That fucker…!" Alison quickly covered his hand, hoping to ease his rage. Kurt almost immediately relaxed. He upturned his hand, palm against hers, and curled his fingers to clasp their hands together. "What does he want? Does this mean he knew about your methods to push out the DA?"
There was a thought—one she had not had before. Mark Franklin had not come up in conversation, but Alison could not deny the possibility. Proctor had a spymaster—or something close to it—in his circle. Rebecca Bowman. No matter how stealthy her efforts against the DA, Alison could not hide all of her methods at gaining information. Proper channels and whatnot. Rebecca could have informed her uncle, and he reacted to the news. Alison inaudibly sighed. Coming back with child. Getting rid of Proctor's safety net. Either way, it seemed her actions were the reason for Randall Watts' return.
"Could be," Alison finally answered. She briefly wondered if Mark had indeed packed his things and left or if he had gone blabbing to his master. "Proctor admitted that Watts' release was mostly business. But partially, his release was to motivate me to form a relationship with him. He wants me in his life… like the daughter he didn't have."
"And you told him no," Kurt guessed.
"Yes," Alison confirmed. "Unfortunately, his protection was contingent on me agreeing to a relationship." She paused, allowing the implication to permeate. Kurt let out a slow breath. "I think…" she continued. "If Watts asks, Proctor will give my location, and we won't be safe."
"Only if it's asked?" Kurt wondered.
"That's… That's what he did with your brother," she replied. He, of course, appeared confused. "Before, I thought it was strange that you had been back in Banshee for months before seeing any of them, and then all of a sudden, they knew where you lived. Proctor told me he sent Calvin to you, knowing what would happen. Because Calvin asked. Proctor took the opportunity, he said, to cripple your efforts against The Brotherhood. He thought your plan would put me in danger. Any means necessary to keep me safe, he said." Their clasped hands tightened just a bit as Kurt shut his eyes. Alison allowed him a moment to come to terms with that. Only a moment, though. They needed to come up with an answer to this dilemma quickly, and to do that, he needed to know what she knew. "The protection, itself, would have only served as a stall for time. Since I declined his offer, we have less time than anticipated before… someone comes for us."
"So we need a plan," Kurt surmised. He let out a long-suffering sigh. Alison almost regretted telling him. "We might have less time than that," he said. This time, Alison knitted her brow together. "I learned some things today. One of them is that Randall might not come after me."
"What? Why?" Alison blurted. The monster of monsters did not seem like someone who so easily be swayed from a task. "I never got the impression he would stop once something is deemed justified. Handling a defector, for instance."
"I said might," Kurt reminded. "Maggie told me-" Alison had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Again with this woman. "-that Calvin convinced Randall to leave me alone." Alison made a face, not stopping the roll of her eyes this time. Kurt noticed. "Yeah, it's hard to believe," he admitted. "Almost from the start, Randall disliked Calvin. It only got worse when Maggie started dating him. I don't know if I trust it, but if it's true… we have even less time than you thought. I don't know how high you rank on his list of priorities. If he asks tomorrow, for example-"
"Then we're not safe here," Alison finished. For a moment, both were quiet. Alison pressed her lips together before sighing heavily. "Should we leave town…? Just for a little bit?"
"… We can't," Kurt answered. Alison knew it before he had spoken. "There comes a time where taking a stand is the only option." Yes. She hated that the suggestion was not possible. However, she also felt a surge of fondness towards the man. He was determined. She could not help but admire him for it. Of course, he was right. They could not flee or hide from this. This entire situation had been a long time coming. Perhaps even before that night in the CADI. "But," Kurt continued, unaware of Alison's slight smile because his gaze had drifted upward. "If things get too… dangerous—dangerous for our daughter—I might know a place she would be safe while we sort this out."
"Hm…? What do you have in mind?" Alison also looked towards the ceiling, thinking of their sleeping child. She was more than a bit curious of this safe place. To her knowledge, either of them trusted few people, especially with Naomi's safety. Maybe he referred to Billy Raven. The man had children of his own. Twins, a few years older than Naomi, she remembered. However, would Mrs. Raven be so accommodating with a child of a former Neo-Nazi? Well, Alison, herself, had accommodated a child of an actual Neo-Nazi, so… The idea of the Raven family housing Naomi did not seem a bad plan.
"Nothing solid yet," Kurt confessed. "But I will do anything to protect Naomi." He returned his gaze to Alison. She felt his eyes on her, and so she, too, lowered her gaze from the ceiling. "And you. I want you to know that, Alison."
"I do know that, Kurt," she easily replied. His hand squeezed hers, and Alison found herself smiling more openly. "We're partners."
"Yes, we're partners," Kurt confirmed, giving a hesitant smile in return. "Which is why… we need to clear things up between us." The smile slipped from his expression, causing Alison's smile to fade as well. "In order to do that, I have to ask these questions. Questions I should have been persistent in asking." Alison blinked, waiting patiently for him to continue. It seemed to take him a bit to compose himself. Were the questions so damning? Also, she was not aware of anything that needed clearing up. She had believed they both had an understanding. Obviously, Kurt felt differently. For less than a second, he lowered his gaze before returning to her. He breathed in deeply, and then released it. "I asked before, but I don't think you were entirely honest with me, so I'll ask this first… for a second time."
"Just ask," Alison told him, slightly fed up with the delay. She had no idea what question he was referring to. She could not think of any question he had asked where she had not been entirely truthful. Well, perhaps there had been a few. However, she had confessed the entirety later. "What is it?"
"Why did you give our daughter the name Naomi?"
The simple question immediately garnered the sense of unease. All over her skin, Alison felt the agitation crawl. Quick as a snap, her mind replayed the memory of when the question had been asked the first time. She had given a superficial answer. A truth. Not the truth. Because the entirety would have exposed the shame. The fear. The insecurity. But Alison was prideful—too prideful to expose herself like that. It would take a long time before she would be able to admit the reasoning. Another decade, perhaps, when things were finally settled and they found a solid comfortability. She had not exposed herself then, and she would not do it now. Not now. Alison slipped her hand from his and angled her body away, only mildly bothered by the loss of warmth.
"What does it matter?" she questioned. Her eyes sharply turned elsewhere, suddenly not wanting to look at him either. "That's her name, and it won't change. Does there need to be a reason?" At his lack of response, Alison returned her attention to Kurt. With his lips pursed and gaze on his empty hand, he appeared acquiescent. Good. She did not want further interrogation into Naomi's name. Naomi—it was a namesake. Kurt did not have a chance to watch a little girl grow. Fire had taken the chance away from him. She had wanted that chance given back. And yet… She would not expose herself. Doing so would also bring to light her humiliation.
"Then… I'll ask another question for now," Kurt said. His eyes returned to her. Hazel steel. Jesus Christ, their daughter would have the same look one day. Alison found herself wincing, and then bracing herself for the next. "In the two years you were gone, why didn't you call me?" The question had been heavier than the last. Even harder to answer. Alison recoiled, moving further away from Kurt. She stood up and took more than a few steps away from the loveseat. Arms crossed, she glared at the entertainment center, willingly keeping her back to the man. "Alison…" he called to her.
"Why are you asking these questions?!" she cut through whatever words he might have said. Not shouting, or screaming—but honestly, she wanted to… Alison squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the beginnings of bile forming in her throat. She had thought they were getting better. Why did Kurt feel the need to pull all the misery from their past? How was it clearing up anything? If anything, he might sully the relationship they had now. They were getting better. Eventually, after the dust settled, maybe they could move towards… towards… something more. However, he seemed insistent on bringing up these negative memories. As a reminder? To halt the hope? Alison swallowed painfully. "Those things don't matter! What happened in the past does not matter! Inserting the past into our present will not change anything!"
"Alison," Kurt said again in the same patient way. She heard him stand, but refused to face him. "From your perspective, and mine, we both need to understand how we got here. I don't want to move forward-" Alison flinched hard. "-Not until we can both look back and see the full picture."
"Why didn't you call me?!" Alison asked, whirling around in anger. Kurt flinched. Lowering her arms, her fists clenched hard together at her sides. Unlike his calm demeanor upon asking, she had nearly snarled. Voice and expression contorted with accusation, she glared at him, hating that a familiar stinging formed in the corner of her eyes. To his credit, Kurt did not cower or falter. Wisely, he stayed closer to the loveseat instead of approaching her. Already, he had told her about his lack of self-care two years ago. He had chosen that over calling her. She was the only one who had the right to ask that question. A question that had lingered in her mind for two goddamn years. To have him so blatantly ask now irked her like nothing else. "I don't-" Her breath hitched, words seemingly strangling her. She almost coughed but managed to hold it in. "I don't want to have this Q&R session, Bunker. As far as I'm concerned, your questions are irrelevant to our situation."
"This isn't a courthouse, Alison," Kurt countered. She could feel her face harden further. "I'm sorry," he hurriedly said. "But today, I learned some things I didn't know. I didn't… know, so I reacted because of that ignorance. I think… you reacted to that ignorance, too."
"What?" Alison blurted. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm going to answer your question," Kurt said. "So answer mine when I ask it again. Please." Alison clenched her jaw and swallowed hard. Though the question had lingered on her mind far longer than it should have, she did not want to hear what she already knew. But it did not appear that Kurt would let this go. Can't move forward without looking back. Therefore, Alison stifled her instincts to fight or flee and remained where she stood. "Today, I went to the hospital where I was treated. It's why I wore my uniform." To soften the blow of his presence, Alison realized. To gain access he would otherwise be denied. But why…? "There, the staff gave a list of people who visited me. The visitor log was more extensive than I had anticipated. I did not anticipate gifts at all, but there they were," Kurt continued. "I saw the flowers, the balloons… the teddy bear, and the get-well card."
"So what?" Alison raised her voice. The mention of the get-well card felt like slices in her skin. Gouges to her heart. "What's the point of this reminder?"
"It's not a reminder. For you, maybe, but not for me," Kurt said. Alison pressed her lips together, confused. "Until today, I didn't know these things existed." Her body slackened. So much so that even the vice grip she kept on herself loosened to the point of her arms falling to her sides. Lips parting slightly, Alison stared back at him. At a loss. Unable to respond. "The reason I didn't call you is because I didn't know that I could. When I woke up, there was only an empty room. I called your old cell phone number and your landline. I couldn't reach you. I woke up, thinking I had been abandoned by you—by everyone I thought, at least, cared about me." Kurt visibly swallowed. "Until today, I had no idea what had been taken from me."
"Wh-What? No… That's…" Still at a loss, Alison shook her head. The words processed slowly, seemingly on a loop. A slow moving whirl in her mind. Until today… Until today… Until today… But that implied—no, it meant that Kurt had not had a choice. All this time, she had believed that he severed the ties between them by not calling. All this time, she had thought he was the one who ended things. All this time, she had thought herself foolish for confessing in the first place. However, that burning humiliation had been wrong. The spite had been wrong. She had been wrong. "Ku-Kurt…" Throat feeling the strain, his name spilled from her mouth in a stutter. "What…? I-I-I-"
Suddenly, his arms were around her and the tears spilled from her eyes. Alison did not make a sound. She only stared at the wall above the loveseat, body becoming numb, paralyzed by the flood of information. Her chin pressed firmly against Kurt's shoulder as he squeezed her, but she barely registered the comfort. Once slow and cautious, the words—the implication—now processed quickly in her mind. A tsunami compared to before. Kurt could have been there from the beginning. He could have watched Naomi say her first words. He could have taught her how to walk. He could have been by her side, raising Naomi together from the start. And he hadn't. Not only because of missing items, but also because she had not had the courage to contact him. All the could haves and the guilt crashed into her, overwhelming and consuming.
The first cry made her body tremble. She tried so hard to keep it within herself. However, the second rippled and pried her mouth open. The second was the catalyst. Unhindered, the tears and sobs overtook her. As though a very real pressure weighed down on her, Alison crumbled. Fortunately, Kurt's hold on her did not falter. He guided her to sit on the couch and lowered himself to one knee in front of her. His hands gently stroked her outer thighs, doing well in calming her. Still, it took time for her sobs to fade. Only sniffles remained by the time she composed herself enough. Slowly, she cracked her eyes open. Through slightly blurred vision, she saw Kurt staring, empathy in his eyes. She might have wailed in embarrassment had there been anything else. But he understood her reaction, perhaps because he had reacted the same way.
Alison pressed her lips together, one hand reaching to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her right, as though with a mind of its own, sought Kurt's left. Their palms touched and their fingers curled. So much comfort from the simple gesture. A long shuddering breath left her, finally calming down completely. For a few moments, they quietly watched one another. Then Alison cleared her throat. "Ask me," she whispered. Kurt tilted his head to the side a bit, drawing his brow together. "… Ask me again." Yes, it would have taken her a decade to expose herself to a man that had rejected her. However, ultimately, this man had not. He hadn't even gotten the chance. Somehow, exposing herself seemed easier to swallow now.
"Why did you name our daughter Naomi?" Kurt questioned.
Alison licked her lips, and then sighed. "I named her the day she was born—as soon as I saw her face," she stated. "It wasn't as impulsive as I made it out to be. In the back of my mind…" She paused, uncertain of how she could word it. "I knew it would make you happy—that you helped bring a piece of your… your sister back into the world. So even though it had been six months after, with no word from you, I thought you… I still waited for you." Kurt nodded his head as though he expected this type of answer. Well, he had read the get-well card recently. The notion of pining was not too much of a stretch. Alison ducked her head, lowering her gaze to her lap. Her neck, cheeks, and ears seemed to burn at the realization. His realization that she had spent over a year pining for him. "Next question," she said, more hastily than necessary.
"In the two years you were gone, why didn't you call me?" Kurt asked, obliging and expectant.
"Proctor," Alison said. She felt Kurt's confusion, so she continued. "Before Camp Genoa, when I found out about my mother, he told me something else. It stuck with me despite the source. Staring death in the face has a way of changing one's perspective, he said. When I left Banshee, your doctor said that you would wake up any day. I was expecting your phone call within a week of me settling. And you never did. Then a month went by… then two. I was getting bigger and I still didn't hear from you. Halfway through the pregnancy, I finally understood that you weren't going to call. I thought you had stared death in the face and rearranged your priorities—that I was no longer a priority." She ducked her head lower. "I realized you wouldn't call, but I was still expecting it. The long and short of it is… I was a coward."
"Coward…?" Kurt repeated, incredulous.
"I was scared to get that type of confirmation," Alison said. "I thought you were done with me." Kurt did not have a response to that. Alison shut her eyes, feeling a sudden throbbing in her brain. Or maybe it had always been there since this conversation veered so much off course. Jesus Christ, she felt exhausted. "Is there another question?" she murmured. Her eyes opened and finally looked at him again. Nearly unreadable, he stared back at her. He appeared as though he wanted to say something. However, after a second's pause, he shook his head. "Good. I'm tired. And… I need time to think."
"Okay," he replied just as quiet. Then he stood, slipping his hand from hers. "I'll turn off all the lights." Even though only the living room and den were the only lights on. "Head on up."
Alison nodded, and then rose from the couch. Her steps were silent, and so was her breathing. However, her heart pounded viciously against her chest as she walked pass her child's father. She was discomfited. And a bit confused. This new—old—information had thrown her for a loop. Right now, she could not figure out how to proceed, and so she kept silent. The guilt was there, too. She had blamed and resented Kurt Bunker all over a simple miscommunication. A misconception had kept them separated for two years. It had mostly been her fault while he had been blameless. She had waited for him. But he had waited for her. They had spent two years uselessly waiting on each other.
Pushing those thoughts aside, for now, Alison checked on her daughter. Thankfully, Naomi slept undisturbed. Sighing a bit, she moved down the hallway to her room. Alison recognized that she, essentially, was in a state of shock. The numbness crept back in, and so she barely noted herself climbing into bed and pulling the covers over her body. She shuddered, though not because she felt cold. Again, she swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. Never again… Never again… Never again… How many nights had her mother's mantra filled her head and lulled her to sleep? How many sleepless nights had she experienced, reaching for a person who should have been there? How many times had she cried with his name on her tongue? It had all been for nothing. Because she had been a coward.
Alison lay perfectly still, body rigid despite the luxury surrounding her. Then she heard his footsteps. Kurt shut the door behind him, and then seconds later the light overhead shut off. Alison breathed deeply, silently, as Kurt slipped beneath the covers with her. Before him, she had slept in the middle of the bed. Then, because of him, she slept on one side. Even after, her body naturally made room for him. Was this still after…? Alison shifted a bit, body relaxing with him so close. She wanted to be held, she realized. Clenching her teeth, she turned and shimmied to his side of the bed. Fortunately, Kurt did not say anything as she drew closer. Alison curled against his body, and he wrapped an arm around her. He shifted, too, turning on his side to move the other arm around her.
"Kurt… I…I'm sorry."
"I know," he murmured. "… I'm sorry, too."
They fell asleep, tangled once again.
0-0
Calvin wanted to get drunk. Shitfaced drunk. He had not wanted something like that for… two years, was it? Yeah. Two years since the last time he actually got drunk to such an extent. Last time had been because of Kurt, too. His brother just refused the protection. But this…? This was worse than an idiotic notion of toppling The Brotherhood. A kid. He had a fucking kid. A half-breed. Calvin's darkened eyes stared down at the children's tablet. The longer he stared at the close up of his son and his niece—his niece? God, no. She was not his, even by blood—the more he saw the similarities. Not just with each other. Calvin saw his own father in them as well. He never would have thought his older brother would have children. Never mind a nigger child.
He could not deny that there were those in the factions that dirtied themselves. However, Calvin recognized them as the power trips they were. Kurt had never been like that. In fact, his brother had beaten the shit out of someone who bragged about it. Others thought he had been pissed about one of them laying with someone not of their kind. Privately, Kurt had admitted that forcing oneself on another, even those that were less than, was an intolerable act. His big brother knew best and showed the consequences of not following the best. Therefore, the thought never crossed Calvin's mind.
Clearly, it had crossed Kurt's. Still, raising the kid implied that the act had not been about power. Had his brother purposely done it? Was the mother of his child willing? Calvin glowered, sharply averting his eyes away from the image. He closed the gallery app on his son's tablet and flipped the device for good measure. He should delete the picture, and all the pictures depicting Kurt's kid. However, it would serve as a reminder of sorts. A reminder of how far his brother had fallen. Disgusting. His brother had become disgusting in his self-imposed exile. Maybe he should not have been left to his own devices. Calvin had been sure Kurt would not try anything further after…
"Calvin," a voice caught his attention. Calvin looked up from his place at the corner of the bar. A glance around indicated more people filled the establishment. Then, he focused on the one who had spoken. Joey, or Pony Joe as he liked to be called, approached him, wariness in his expression. "They're all here now. You want to tell me what this is about?" It was late, and on his order, Calvin told the man to gather the lieutenants. As Pony Joe said, those under him had gathered. Some of them had brought a few of their subordinates. The last time they had gathered in the same place, Calvin had announced Maggie's new role in The Brotherhood. They had lost a mouthy lieutenant that night. He understood Pony Joe's caution.
The owner of this bar was a like-minded ally and allowed The Brotherhood free reign, so important meetings happened here. The faces in the crowd matched Pony Joe's demeanor. They would soon understand and accept the change. Calvin stood, sliding the tablet away, out of reach. Then he climbed on top of the bar. At a much taller height, his presence caused a hush to fall over the crowd of lieutenants. He cleared his throat in preparation of speaking. With his hands clasped behind his back, Calvin made his way to the center of the bar's top, avoiding glasses of liquor.
Calvin stood before The Brotherhood and looked at each face in the crowd. Then he began. "I know you're wondering why I've called this meeting so late," he said. "Especially after partying so hard yesterday night." His lips twitched into a slight smile. "Some of you haven't stopped partying." Laughter throughout the crowd, which confirmed his assumption. He wanted a moment before continuing. "I assure you that I would not have called this gathering without reason. It is my utmost regret to inform you that we've lost one of our own." Unsure mumbles followed. Expected, really. The Brotherhood had been on top for quite some time now. "Our brother, my father-in-law, is dead."
"Wh-What?!" A sputtering gasp echoed as the faces in the crowd transformed into incredulity and anger. "But he just got out! What happened to him?!"
"Murder. Murdered by one of our own, in fact," Calvin said matter-of-factly. The mumbles turned to grumbles, and then outright shouting. Calvin narrowed his eyes. Honestly, he had wanted to announce proudly what actually happened to the former leader. Maggie convinced him otherwise. He had become useless in life, she said. So let us use his death to our advantage. He wanted his wife by his side for this, but someone had to stay home with Hank. Calvin felt himself glaring. Hank, his boy, corrupted like that. It was… insufferable. Therefore, he needed to do this.
"ENOUGH!" Pony Joe quieted the crowd. As expected of his most trusted lieutenant. Once the shouting died down, he looked towards Calvin. As did the rest. "Someone killed Watts? One of us?"
"Hm… I misspoke," Calvin said. He had purposely misspoke. "I meant one of our former brothers—Kurt Bunker. Now, some of you know him. Others, newcomers, have only heard about him. Ultimately, he's the one that betrayed us—our way of thinking. My wife drove Watts to Kurt's place. Watts offered him a shot at redemption and Kurt threw it back in his face and threatened him. And then Watts turned up dead. His pieces on our doorstep."
"Pieces…?!" someone shouted.
"Watts taught his killer the best, after all," Calvin told them. He almost could not stop the smirk. Yes, Randall Watts had taught Maggie quite well. "Kurt is my blood, but what he has done is the final straw. I can no longer ignore his actions." A small part of him did not want to point the finger at his brother. He was his brother, after all. However, Maggie had been adamant that Kurt pay for his sin. "I am rescinding the order to leave him be. He has betrayed us too many times. And the cherry on top, he has produced a spawn with a monkey." Varying degrees of disgust appeared on their faces. A twinge of annoyance formed within him, but he could not say why. "So I want him brought to me, alive, along with his kid and his black bitch. Justice will be served in front of the whole Brotherhood."
"But he's still a cop," Pony Joe pointed out. "The reason we left him alone before—why we didn't take care of him for what he did to Jasper and Bryce—is because you said punishing him would bring the police force on our heads."
"What can they do against our numbers?" Calvin asked. "We are a legion now compared to them. I am fucking tired of hiding what I believe in just to get by. I'm tired of answering to people who are not us. We are The Brotherhood, and we deserve some goddamn respect." Heads bobbed in agreement. "But we've been put on a leash—told to not cause trouble—like we're pets. Our families are in danger. Our futures are on the brink. I mean… taking orders from a dutchie…? Scrambling to put chump change in our pockets while he gets richer from our hard work?" He sniggered spitefully. "Money is one thing, I admit, but it's just a source. If we want money, we should just take it. Everything in Banshee is ours. Because we have the power here. Not the police. Not the Mayor. Not fucking Proctor."
"What are you saying?" another lieutenant spoke up, though his expression indicated he already knew. Excitement shined in his eyes. "You're talking like-"
"I've been thinking, but I'm tired of thinking," Calvin cut in. "I want to step out of the dark. I want to break the leash around our necks. I want a fucking revolution! We've fought hard to get where we are and we deserve to reap the benefits of our power." More head nodding from most of them. Just as Maggie and he predicted. "The road has been long and dark, but there is a light at the end. The perfect moment is finally here, so we're gonna fucking seize it. Watts wanted an Aryan revolution, so I say we give him one—as a sendoff. It's what he would have wanted. So, who's ready to have this town tremble at the might of The Brotherhood?"
The answering roar was music to his ears.
He still wanted to get shitfaced drunk.
0-0
Kurt awoke to the feeling of a palm sliding across his abdomen. He shuddered inwardly as his eyes cracked open. It was a familiar, yet distant, feeling—the fluttering in his stomach because of the gentle touch. He used to wake up to it nearly every day. Kurt blinked a few times, vision adjusting to the darkness of the room. Judging from the lack of light, sunrise was still a ways off. Groaning a bit, he shifted, looking down. Alison, still asleep, nuzzled at his side, fingers curling a bit against his front. For a moment, or two, Kurt laid there, faintly baffled at the sight. As though he had not already experienced it recently. Unlike before, he did not panic.
A quick glance at the digital clock on Alison's end table, on the left side of the bed, indicated it was almost two hours before he needed to get ready for work. Kurt returned his line of sight to the sleeping woman as his body relaxed again. During their sleep, he must have kicked the bedspread off. He sighed out, and then lifted his free hand and reached for Alison's hand, which had slithered beneath his t-shirt. Palm against palm, finger against finger, Kurt marveled at the easy touch. There was little light, but just enough to make out their connected hands.
He could clearly remember a time where touching had been, more or less, forbidden. For a monster like him, he did not have the right. However, gradually, Kurt and Alison had found a certain rhythm. Through their accidental touches, and purposeful touches, it had somehow become natural to reach for her. Even before their relationship had drastically shifted. He could still remember the first time she had willingly reached for him. It had been to take care of his injured knuckles, gently applying ointment and wrapping his hand in gauze. Kurt knew he would keep the memory until he died. The first time she had embraced him as well. His lips twitched into a smile as his fingers curled around her hand.
Then the smile dropped. Kurt carefully lowered their connected hands as his eyebrows drew closer together. However natural this had become, he wondered how long it would last. Last night, her reaction had been expected. Christ, he hated seeing her tears, but he had expected them. They were so very much alike. Despite being cut from different cloths. Despite being forged by different fires. Kurt sighed again, eyes darting towards Alison. Her anger would come next, he believed. She would want revenge for the manipulation. Just like him. She just needed a focus. The one responsible for it all. Once the righteous fury faded, would she want to pick up where they had left off?
For him, the answer was simple. After realizing the truth, Kurt had spent some time contemplating what he wanted. Closure or continuation—a question that he had not been able to answer until now. For the past two years, he had denied something that had become a part of him on a fundamental level. Now, he knew. Nothing had ended—merely put on pause by an external influence. He had insistently convinced himself of moving on. He had convinced himself.
Therefore, when Alison returned like a storm, he had pushed down any thought and feeling of rekindling. He had to because recognizing his own feelings—for what they were—would have been suicide. He had not wanted to be… vulnerable with her again. Seeing her again felt like no time had passed. The ugly raw feelings of rejection and abandonment had left him reeling. He had not wanted it again. Not again. Because of that, he buried everything he felt about Alison in order to protect himself.
Kurt had gotten so good at it. He had not realized that, essentially, nothing had changed. He had thought he had fallen out of love with Alison, but he had never stopped. Now, he did not want to waste any more time. He had wasted plenty already. Despite their situation, he did not want to hide or bury this. He wanted continuation. He wanted it so badly that on the drive here, his body thrummed in anticipation. If his hands hadn't been full, he would have suddenly and wildly kissed her, swallowing any question or protest that might have come. The thought had halted his intentions, though. She had every right to protest a kiss right now, so against the loud instincts screaming for her, Kurt refrained. Alison had noticed the shift within him, of course, and had become nervous around him. Kurt did not blame her for it, but it planted seeds of doubt. Maybe she did not want continuation. After the anger left, maybe closure would be enough for her.
Ultimately, what he wanted did not matter. The only thing that mattered was Alison's decision. Whatever it might be, he would concede and behave accordingly. Closure or continuation—he would accept either. Hope for one and be resigned to the other. Kurt shut his eyes, squeezing the hand he grasped. A small groan from Alison caused him to loosen his grip. But the damage was done. He could feel her shifting. She breathed in through her nose and lifted her head from his shoulder.
"Kurt…?" she whispered groggily. He could not see her face, so she probably could not see his. He imagined she squinted in the dark. "You awake?"
"… Yeah," Kurt admitted. "I didn't mean to wake you."
He heard another intake of air before Alison sat up completely, slipping her hand from his. Kurt pressed his lips together as the dim light of the lamp switched on. He blinked, watching as Alison withdrew her hand from underneath the lampshade. She slowly turned towards him, sitting up completely as she did. In response, Kurt lifted himself into a sitting position as well. "How long were you awake?" Alison asked.
"Not long," he replied with a shake of his head.
"… Do you need to get ready for work?" she wondered.
"Not for another few hours."
Alison bit her lower lip, tilting her head to the side and averting her stare elsewhere. For a moment, she did not speak again. Then she closed her eyes and clasped her hands together in her lap. A deep sigh left her. "I need to ask you something," she began. Kurt cleared his throat, body tensing with apprehension. He thought she would need more time to process. It had taken him a few hours, after the truth, to reach an answer to that specific question. Finally, she opened her eyes and focused on him. "What… What made you go to the hospital? Today and not sooner?" Before I came back? She did not ask that question, but he heard it in her tone. "Why was it… until today?"
"Honestly," Kurt said. "I've had those questions in my head for a while now. But I was… afraid to know the answer. To get that type of confirmation." Alison clearly recognized the echoed words, yet she said nothing. "I wasn't looking for an excuse to find out what happened. Even when I saw the excuses—the contradictions." All the excuses flittered through his mind. All the excuses he had denied because of cowardice. Christ. He and Alison really were alike. "But I couldn't ignore one of them. It hadn't made sense. The bear."
"The bear…?" Alison repeated. Her face scrunched in confusion. "Hank's stuffed bear? Why would that be a contradiction?"
"I never told you about my own bear," Kurt said. "I might've—given enough time." Alison glanced away but only for a few seconds. "My mom—my real mom—gave it to me. She bought it because she thought she would have a girl. She wanted me to present it to my little sister. But Calvin was born and she… she didn't survive his birth." Alison's teeth clamped down on her lip. Her fingers unclasped, but she did not remove them from her lap. Kurt wondered if she had wanted to comfort him. It wasn't necessary. He could barely remember his mom. Sometimes, usually, the memory of his mom merged with Mrs. Miller. "Since Calvin was a boy, I kept the thing. Called it Mr. Kitty. It was pink and fluffy with giant paws, but it was mine. The last gift I ever got from my mom. Before our daughter, which was too recent, I told only one person about that teddy bear."
"Deputy Raven," Alison said. "… I remember he tried to tell me about his gift, trying to cheer me up while you were… while you were unconscious." Her eyebrows lifted, real surprise forming in her eyes. "But if you didn't know about the gifts until today, then… how-how did Hank-?" She figured it out before the question fully formed. "They did this?!" she nearly snarled out.
"I'm not sure if Calvin had anything to do with it," Kurt said. "I think it was just Maggie."
"Maggie?" Alison said her name with contempt. "What reason would she have to do that to you?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But… She's different. I don't think she cared about me at all." Alison narrowed her eyes, appearing pensive. "When she picked up Hank yesterday, she called me useless, among other things. I think… she might have been pretending with me until now."
"I don't understand. Why would she?" Alison muttered. "Tell me about her. I might be able to discern a motivation you couldn't see." Kurt nodded his head. That had been his thoughts exactly, and so he told her. From the first time she had showed up at his house with groceries to the first time she had brought Hank over. He, of course, left out a minor detail. Revealing the shameful part of his relationship with Maggie did not seem appealing. Alison pursed her lips and looked downward. She crossed her arms, deep in thought. "That is weird… Even as a… neutral party, I can't see a motivation in her actions either. Still, I get the feeling she was gearing up to persuade you to do something. In all your conversations with her, did she ever request that you do something for her—other than babysitting Hank? I'm talking multiple times."
"She wanted… to bring me back," Kurt said. "More than once, we argued about it. She swore that Calvin still loved me after what he did. She wanted us to reconcile."
"It sounds like… she, herself, didn't want you back," Alison said, lifting her gaze to him. "If she so easily dismissed you yesterday, there was no personal stake in her plan. It seems like she wanted to make Calvin happy. Bringing in Hank would have been the anchor to your reconciliation. But would you have even considered your nephew or his mother's seemingly good intentions if you already had enough support? She is, after all, the wife of the monster who hurt you. You would have been suspicious, I'm sure."
Kurt had been suspicious of Maggie. The first time. He had practically welcomed her the second time. She had showed him kindness and tenderness. She had given him a reason to crawl out of bed. She had almost aggressively made sure his burn healed well. No one else had given him that. No one had wanted to. Or so he had believed. "No," he replied. "I wouldn't have been around to consider her." The slip of tongue caused a pause on Alison's part. Her lips twitched before her eyes darted to her lap. She uncrossed her arms and her hands fell to her lap again. Confidence rising, Kurt slowly took her hand. It took a beat, but her gaze returned to him. "I would have been where I was supposed to be. I would have divided my time between here for work and Bloomsburg… for you."
Alison's hand twitched but she did not pull away. She continued staring, gaze steady and open. Warm and soft. Kurt felt his insides jerk. It had been a promising reaction. Then she blinked. Her expression hardened just a bit. "Your sister-in-law did what she did, probably on someone else's order," she bit out. "But that does not make her any less accountable. Whatever may or may not have happened two years ago, she is the cause of the fracture, and I won't forgive it. She will pay for this. I'll personally take care of her if I have to."
"I know that," Kurt affirmed. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. Now, Kurt's inside vibrated, hopeful at what might come next. "Do you… want to ask me something else?"
"No further questions," Alison said. Though her voice had been quiet, almost subdued, there had been something else. Some hint Kurt could not decipher just yet. She extracted her hand from his only to lean forward, pressing both hands and knees against the surface of the bed. Close now, Kurt felt her breath against his cheek. "I think…" she whispered. "I understand things now. Clearly." The hope swelled and nearly strangled Kurt as he returned her solid gaze. Alison's line of sight flickered towards his mouth. "Tell me… to stop," she deliberately requested. "Push me away."
Christ.
"… That's my line," Kurt told her, smile forming.
"I have been parroting your words lately," Alison acknowledged. "I wonder why."
No longer able to hold himself back, Kurt reached for her, hands tugging her closer and on top of him. Alison curled her fingers against the top of his shoulders, and then slid her hands to his neck. A gentle caress as she eased forward again. Then her lips were finally on his. Kurt shut his eyes and breathed her in. In her kiss, he found everything he thought he lost before. Until now, he had been pulled in so many different directions, but now he felt whole again. Happy. Safe. Loved. Finally, he was hers again. Kurt leaned forward himself, sliding his fingers underneath her nightshirt. Hands gripping her waist, he returned and deepened the kiss. He pressed hard, wanting to convey the buildup of his emotions. Near desperate, he pried her mouth open and met her tongue. Alison moaned, thighs clenching his sides.
Christ. Kurt needed to feel every inch of her. He twisted his body, pressing Alison's back against the bed and hovering over her. She kept her legs locked around him, kissing as though she wanted to devour. And he returned it with the same fervor. He had missed this so much—maybe too much. Breathing was the furthest thing from his mind right now. Now, every fiber of himself wanted to attach to her. Attach himself in a way that made severing impossible. Apart of him realized the obsessive undertone, but could not bring himself to care. He needed this. He needed her.
Kurt reared back slowly, breaths leaving him hard and fast. He opened his eyes and saw Alison mirroring his breathing. The corner of his lips tugged upward before he lowered himself again to kiss her cheek. Her jaw. Her chin. Then down to her throat. Alison's hand cupped his cheek and he turned his head to press his lips against her palm. She shuddered and shut her eyes. Kurt lifted his hand, palming the back of hers. He repeatedly kissed her wrist, enjoying the feeling of her quickened pulse against his lips. "Kurt…" There it was. A whine for more but no less challenging. Obligingly, he returned his attention back to her mouth. She slipped her hand underneath his shirt, fingertips slithering down his side. Her other hand reached to grip the back of his neck. She whimpered against him as her body rubbed opposite of his. "Off," she said between kisses. "Let me see."
Unlike before, Kurt felt no hesitation. He trusted her. Moreover, she was a woman who trusted him. He lifted himself and Alison followed. His hands left her in order to reach behind him and pull his shirt up from the back. He tossed the shirt over the edge of the bed. Alison scooted closer, palm touching his scarred burn. Then she leaned forward and kissed the rugged skin. Right against the center. Kurt clenched his jaw and shut his eyes. Christ. Her gentle kiss felt like a soothing balm. Then her lips shifted focus on his inked skin. Kurt drew in a surprised breath. Alison had never kissed anywhere beyond his neck. He understood why. The wings on his neck had been an exception. She would kiss, lick, and bite his inked flesh on his neck because the tattoo was the least offensive. Her affections never ventured below but here she was, tenderly kissing the shame on his body.
From his scar to his ink. From his ink to his scar. Back and forth. Connecting. Alison indiscriminately planted kisses all over. Kurt remained frozen as she worked her way across his skin, yet his insides rattled and jerked every time her lips touched him. The air caught in his throat as though he had forgotten to breathe. She finally ended her hail of kisses on the small swastika at the corner of his eye. "I love you," she said, hands cupping his cheeks. With just a few words, Alison obliterated any lingering doubt he might have had. Finally, he had received the jaw-dropping, heart-startling, mind-blowing three-worded phrase he had spent the better part of his life longing for. No one had told him that since his mother. Alison had said it like an unquestionable fact. "All of you, Kurt. I love you."
There was something profoundly different about hearing the words instead of just seeing them written. Suddenly, he had a phantom sensation of tripping and plunging into an abyss. Falling. Falling. Falling. Being completely overwhelmed, and then crashing into a vast ocean. Even further he sank. Willingly. The emotions swelled within, raging inside him. Like they could spill out—explode—at a moment's notice. Kurt clenched his teeth in an effort to contain it all. But he could not. "I love you…!" he blurted. Louder than intended. "I love you!" At a lower volume than before. But no less intense. "I love you! I love you! I love-" And his mouth was on her again. Fiercely kissing, he remembered all the times he had forced himself not to say it. All the times he had pressed the words to her skin.
Alison allowed him to push her against the bed again, fingers possessively wrapped around her throat. She, almost frantically, returned his need for her. Christ, he had missed this. Her hands and nails gliding along his skin. The way her voice muffled. The thundering pulse beneath his palm. Kurt replaced his hand with his mouth, nuzzling the length of her neck. His lips parted, allowing his teeth to graze. Alison sharply inhaled, and then sighed out a moan. Nibbling now, Kurt's hand lowered further. His fingers hastily and deftly moved to unbutton her nightshirt. He was almost finished when her fingers wrapped around his wrist. Mildly startled by the interruption, he pulled away from her neck and looked up. Oh. He had been too rough, hadn't he? He swallowed, prepared to apologize.
"Don't," Alison said. Then she sucked in a breath. "Don't rush." Oh. Oh. She wanted to savor this. He wanted that, too. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and nodded his head. "I missed you…"
"Me, too," he told her.
"So don't rush," she said.
"… As my goddess commands." Alison laughed, biting her lower lip in order to control the volume. Kurt chuckled along with her, and then pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. "I won't rush."
And he didn't.
He might have been a little late for work because of it.
0-0
Always staring, yet never speaking. An apparition of a dead woman sat by his side, guiding and judging him all the same. Kai Proctor blinked slowly, sight focused on what lied ahead instead of the seat beside him. Still, he could feel it. Her piercing gaze never left him. Even as he conducted his business. Even as he slept. Kai could always feel her. Sometimes, it felt so real that he would reach out only to grasp the air. She never spoke to him. Only stared in silence. True, he could remember words spoken to him. The tantalizing way she spoke his name. The awkward way her mouth twisted to speak his language. The breathy sighs that managed to escape whilst attempting silence as he loved her in the dark. However, it was not the same. Being next to him and yet not. Arita Morgan continued to haunt him.
It seemed like a lifetime ago since her ghost appeared. Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen her blend in with the shadows as he left men to burn in his wake. Almost immediately following casting off that woman—the former Mrs. Lotus—she had appeared more frequently. Dressed in black. Like awakening at her own funeral. Only recently had she appeared in shades of red. He had always liked the way red fabric looked on her skin. She had worn red the first time he set eyes on her. Kai had barely been a young man, but his eyes followed her as she perused the many items for sale. She had been so different from the other residents of Banshee.
It had only taken a glance in his direction, and a crafted smile, for him to become besotted. He remembered asking—begging—to join his mother and father on their trips into town. Something he had not done before. A week had gone by before he had seen her again. Every two weeks she would come and purchase the same thing. Bread and apple butter. Two months passed before he had worked up the courage to speak with her. A remark on her choice of purchase. She had given a real smile then, giving compliments to the recipes. From there, they had begun their tentative friendship.
Kai introduced her to aspects of his world. She, in turn, welcomed him into hers. Soon, he had been sneaking out to meet with her. During the day and night. He had acclimated to her world. Violence. Money. Drugs. Sin. It had been how she survived by herself. Not knowing much about the outside world, Kai had been intrigued by it. Similarly, Arita had been intrigued by Amish ways. Family. Devotion. Forgiveness. Tradition. They had learned from one another and had become better versions of themselves. He had confessed his loneliness to her. He had felt empty before her with no purpose. Other than to become his father. She confided in him as well. She had not wanted to survive. She had dreamed of flourishing.
Eventually, his father had learned of Kai's illicit activities. Without listening, without trial, his father cast him out. His mother's begging in his defense had not helped in the end. Kai had been so angry and hurt, but relieved as well. After all, he could finally submerge himself in completely in Arita's world. In Arita. She, of course, had welcomed him into her apartment. Without distraction, they had come up with the foundation of Proctor Meats. Having been exceptional with numbers, Arita remained his accountant for years. She had supported him in all endeavors and whims. She had been so loyal.
So when she had wanted out of the business—of meats and drugs—Kai had been perplexed. He had wondered if he had done something to drive her away. However, he realized it had nothing to do with him. She had wanted to travel the world. As he loved her, he had allowed her to go. It had been half a decade before she returned. Married and with child. The devastation he had felt… Still, he loved her—loved her so much that he forgave the reality that separated their paths. He had kept his distance, forcing himself not to interact. Then tragedy had struck.
Her husband had been brutally beaten. Her child had been brutally raped. She had come crying to him, begging him to find out whoever had done it. It hadn't taken much convincing on her part. He had found them, courtesy of the loyal Sheriff. For her, Kai would have done anything. He had watched in awe as she wreaked havoc on the fools who had dared to harm her family. It had been admirable. He had believed she would come back to him—come back under the protection Proctor Meats gave her. She had not, but the protection had been given freely, extending to her wayward daughter. Time and time again. Even after Arita's premature demise. An accident had permanently taken her from him. Although she had perished, Kai remained devoted and protected Alison Medding. A daughter who selfishly, and stupidly, tossed aside his protection.
"Is that why you look at me with those eyes, Arita?" Kai whispered. What else could he have done to convince her? The woman was just as stubborn as she had been in her teen years. Much too loyal to her family. And had a general hate for criminals. He had done what had been necessary to keep her safe, and yet he had been judged harshly for it. If only he had taken care of her deputy before he had begun sniffing around.
However, he could not predict the way their relationship developed. A racist cop and a proud black woman. Who could have predicted that? Would Arita have allowed it? Would she had accepted her only daughter had fallen into bed with a man equipped with atrocious tattoos? Perhaps that had been the mistake. Allowing her to do as she pleased had placed Kai in this precarious position. How could he protect her now if she had forced his hand? He could only hope Randall Watts chose the job over useless and violent retribution. Then again, he could stall efforts in finding Alison's address…
"Sir…?"
The driver turned his head a bit. Kai blinked once, and the apparition disappeared from his side. Focusing now, he realized the vehicle approached the factory. Sighing lightly, the businessman persona slid into place. He did not answer his driver's inquisitive interruption. The driver wisely chose not to prod. They arrived at the entrance of the factory. Kai narrowed his eyes as he scanned the inhabitants. Coming in all shapes and sizes, the mass of The Brotherhood looked very much alike. His indentured servants. Arita would have laughed at the irony. However, they were not doing as they should. They were dawdling about, almost lazily moving product. Not what he had expected given the recent change of leadership.
The car came to a stop, and then parked. His driver exited the vehicle, moving quickly to open the back door. Kai stepped out, and immediately became aware of the scrutiny from those in charge of overseeing production. Normally, they would only glance in his direction before going back to work. He found it odd, but no one made any moves to approach him. Kai walked towards the office with his driver trailing behind him.
Calvin Bunker, noticing his presence, came out to greet him. The boy was disrespectful even now. Flanked by two burly men, he sauntered forth with his hands in his pockets and a tug at his lips. Smug. As though he expected praise all the time. Kai had never liked the youngest. He feigned civility but there was a torrid of resentment within him. He respected no one. In a way, Kai could understand. Although Calvin led this pack, he essentially became a yes man. As such, he was secretly ambitious. Straying from his real duties in favor of a little profit on the side. Disrespectful to those employing him.
Kai had heard of his dabbling in the porn industry. With underage girls, no less. Had Calvin continued his side business, Kai might have made an example out of him. It had not been the first time the young leader had chosen to hide a side business, after all. However, it stopped before it bore fruit. Kai had not asked questions. He had been grateful of not wasting his time with reprimanding a grown man. In recent months, the boy had remained in his lane. His followers stayed away from law enforcement. His output value had increased significantly. Had Kai not gained a bit more urgency, he would have allowed things to continue as they had been.
Despite the increase, he did not feel that Calvin Bunker was fit to fill his newest order. Randall Watts could do it with not a problem. Instead of giving the chance to the inexperienced, Kai went with the surefire thing. With Watts in charge, he could have his quantities in two weeks' time instead of a month. "Mr. Proctor," Calvin acknowledged, halting in front of him. "I wasn't expecting you." His courteous tone had been fake. He may have gotten good enough to fool those around him but Kai saw through the façade. More than likely, the boy called him 'fucking dutchie' behind his back—like so many other men. Disrespectful men who were no longer among the living because they had chosen to say it to his face. "What can I do for you?"
"I am here to make sure the transition of leadership has gone smoothly," Kai informed him. A slight flaring of his nostrils indicated Calvin's agitation. "That business is running smoothly and effectively."
"So… You're here to discuss business?" Calvin smiled, feigning contemplation. "That's funny. You know, I was just thinking about contacting you… about business."
"Is that so…?" Kai questioned. From his peripheral, he noticed a crowd forming behind him. He tensed, but not quite aware of why just yet. "What manner of business do you speak of?"
"No business, really," Calvin said. "In fact, The Brotherhood no longer works for you. All this-" He gestured with his eyes. "-belongs to us. Your warehouses belong to us. Your shipments belong to us. Your buyers belong to us." Kai furrowed his brow, reasonably baffled by the turn of events. "So… Here's how it will go down. You leave quietly. Or you leave bloody. Your choice, really. But either way, you're gone."
"… That is… unfortunate," Kai spoke steadily. "I can't imagine what Mr. Watts has to say about this."
"Mr. Watts," Calvin began. He leaned forward, mere inches away. "He chose to leave bloody."
"Ah," Kai responded, understanding the implication quite well. It explained this instance of arrogance. "That's a bold choice."
"I thought so," he said, straightening himself. He smiled again but it had lost the civility. Downright feral. "I thought you'd appreciate the gesture." He removed his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms. A long sigh left him. "So, it was a… pleasure doing business with you. But your services are no longer required." Kai kept his eyes trained on Calvin, but inwardly he calculated his odds. He could possibly make it through a third of them. However, he doubted leaving this place if he chose violence as his tool right now. The young Bunker must have known this. Even if Kai killed the upstart now, it would mean nothing in the end.
"Your level of folly amazes me, Mr. Bunker," Kai remarked. "I give you more than your fair share. I protect you from the law, allowing your business to continue. I free you from the confines of debilitating mediocrity. And yet this audacity is how you choose to repay me."
"Yeah," Calvin said. "I ran the numbers again. With all our hard work, I feel that we deserve a bigger cut. The whole cut actually." He sighed again. "Not that it matters. I hold the power here. And I can do whatever the fuck I want as I see fit."
"You're making… a mistake," Kai told him. "You're being a fool—dipping your dick into something that should not be fucked."
Calvin chuckled with a shake of his head. Then he tilted his head forward. A cue of sorts because one of the men behind him stepped forward. Without any other type of warning, a hard fist rammed deep in Kai's gut. He clenched his teeth, doubling over. That vulnerability cost him. Another fist slammed against his face, sending him to the floor. He heard a scuffle behind him. Perhaps, his driver moved to aid him or retaliate. Unfortunately, the man suffered a worse fate. He heard the distinct sound of metal repeatedly sliding into flesh. His grunt of shock and pain only lasted a few seconds. Calvin chuckled again, dropping to a squat beside him.
"I like that comparison," he said. "Because I will make this town my bitch." Those around him laughed at the joke. Kai tasted blood in his mouth and spit it out. "I want to thank you for that. I want to thank you for bringing Watts back, too. He served his purpose, you see. So thank you. For everything." Calvin allowed him to stand. He stood up with him. "Consider this your only warning." His arm stretched, fingers lightly fiddling with Kai's tie. He then flung it from his fingertips. "Now, get the fuck out of my factory… dutchie."
Kai bit back a retort. Even after so many years on this Earth, that term still infuriated him. Clenching his teeth behind closed mouth, he looked Calvin up and down. He only raised his brow, practically goading. Kai, however, knew this was not the time. Not surrounded like this. Not against this many. Not by himself. Therefore, Kai turned his back on Calvin and calmly walked towards his vehicle. He noticed the corpse on the way out, regretting the loss. Burton would have fared better. As he walked away, the sound of his heart thrummed violently in his ears. Then he saw it, stopping him in his tracks.
"Someone get this shit cleaned up," Calvin's order faded in the background.
There, on the hood of his car, perched so innocently, was Arita. Her phantom stared at him again. Only this time, he recognized her disappointment. Her mouth opened. For the first time. Kai… She knitted her brow together. Eventually, the bitch is going to bite the hand that feeds it. Words he had only heard just yesterday. Apparently, he had focused on the wrong bitch. Kai wiped the blood from his lip as he walked around the car. The phantom did not disappear as he took his leave. Neither did her echoed words.
0-0
Omo...! I simply cannot believe we are two chapters away from the end. It's been a hell of a journey-with hella pining-and it's almost done. Thank you all who read this, especially those who read this multiple times. Actually, more was supposed to go into this chapter, just one more scene, but it probably does not go with the flow of this chapter. So, it will go in the next. Again, it should not extend how many chapters I have predicted. Fingers crossed. I mean, it was a short scene, anyway. I think it'll go better in the next chapter. Because things are about to get real.