Sins of Another

by TFK-fan118

He looked like a monster. The DA should not be intrigued by this man covered in Nazi tattoos. Likewise, the new Deputy shouldn't want to unravel her. Yet here they were, secretly meeting and coming undone before one another. Who knew that the strange type of chemistry and sins of their pasts would lead to war in Banshee? A proper redemption story for Kurt Bunker. And Alison Medding

33. What We Deserve

No matter how much time passed, Maggie Bunker could not sleep. She tossed and turned in the confines of the small space, arms crossed and shoulders tensed as she moved. She had been holed up in the same place upon escaping the police station. It had been hours since she had given clear instructions. She expected results long before now. Through broken windows, she could see the sun beginning its descent. Soon, the moon would rise, and yet she had not been reunited with her son. She suddenly shivered, feeling the cool air against her bare skin. This hovel sheltered her—hid her away—from the outside world. However, there were cracks in the walls, susceptible to the wind. Beside the worry of her son's wellbeing, it contributed to her lack of sleep.

Despite its appearance, this place had been a sanctuary in her youth. When her father had become too… himself, this place in the middle of nowhere had been her only solace. The markings she had made over a decade ago remained. Her name. Over and over again. Carved with a sharp rock. Then, of course, she met Calvin. The days of seeking sanctuary here dwindled considerably. Moreover, his name appeared beside hers. Well, his last name. Margaret Bunker. Even back then, she had fantasies of marrying him. To shed the last name of Watts. She had not realized she wanted to shed her former name until recently. But in hindsight, it made sense.

Sighing lightly, Maggie finally sat up, abandoning the hope of falling asleep. She had not slept since leaving the police station. A change in environment would not help that. Not while she was alone. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she hunched over until her forehead met her raised knees. She was dirty, cold, alone, and she absolutely hated it. Perhaps she should not have been so impatient. Still, how could she do nothing when her son had been taken? She could not stand back and standby knowing that Kurt had her son. He intended to raise him alongside his half-breed spawn. No. She could not allow that to happen. She had to get her son back. And she would. Just as soon as Pony Joe arrived. Then they could find somewhere nicer to stay. Before ultimately leaving Banshee behind.

Maggie realized her actions had not exactly be on the right side of the law. Fortunately, she already had a contingency plan. Since she had become more active in her role in The Brotherhood's profits, she had steadily moved a portion into a separate bank account under a false name. Should anything happen, Maggie had the available funds to start over somewhere else. Her entire family would have the means of relocating. However, she never thought she would be the one to initiate the backup plan. Now, she loved her husband, but she was not blind to his flaws. Those glaring flaws, though, happened because of his feelings towards his brother. They made him soft. Made him indecisive. Made him question himself. It hadn't been until the fall of the former leader that Calvin had truly stepped into his role—the role meant for him.

Again, though, she had been hasty in her reaction. Maggie recognized it as a mistake. She could not understand how Hank had left Calvin. What had happened while she had been locked away? She needed to know that information before relocation. Well, she intended to find her husband after Hank was brought to her. Eventually, she would know. But things were happening too slowly for her liking. Where could Pony Joe be right now? The man was known for his efficiency within The Brotherhood. There had been whispers of favoritism since the man was Calvin's best friend, but most knew the truth. He was a good lieutenant, capable of handling things such as this on his own. Well, truthfully, no one within their organization typically went on runs involving children. Especially not the procurement of one. Perhaps hiccups had been inevitable. Still, should it really take so long?

Abruptly, Maggie was brought out of her musings. The decaying door to this abandoned two room, one floor, home began to rattle. Finally. Maggie lifted her head, and then scrambled to her feet. It would not do well for her son, or subordinate, to see her in a state of brooding. Hastily, she smoothed down her hair, and then crossed her arms. Then she stood straight, waiting for Pony Joe to come through that door. However, it was not Pony Joe or Hank, which left her disappointed, and yet a rush of happiness filled her. Her husband had come for her. "Calvin…" she breathed out, relieved. She stepped forward and lowered her arms at the sight of him. He carried a plastic bag. She could not see the contents. "You found me."

"I knew I'd find you here," he replied. Maggie halted, immediately noting a drastic change within in him. He did not smile nor attempt to embrace her as normal. Moreover, his voice sounded hard. Maggie clenched her teeth, suddenly feeling a rising dread. Perhaps her husband had come to dislike her methods. She should have waited for a lawyer. It would have been better for patience, she knew that, but hopefully he would understand her reasoning. Calvin breathed in deeply, eyes shifting away from her to look around. A wry smile crossed his face. "I can't believe you came back here, though."

"I'm… I'm surprised you remember this place," Maggie mentioned, clasping her fingers together in front of her. Mostly to do something with her hands. She did not yet realize why she felt awkward around her husband. Still, she trusted him. The fact that he knew—and remembered—this place meant a great deal. Until Pony Joe, she had told no one else. The existence of this plan had been a secret shared between young lovers. "I haven't mentioned this since before Hank was born."

"Yeah… I still remember though," Calvin said. "To get away from your dad, right?" Mutely, Maggie nodded her head still concerned by his demeanor. He was stalling, she realized. Calvin hummed lightly before finally returning his gaze to her. Though he was noticeably hard, her husband also exuded a calmness he had only recently shown. When two leaders became one only a few nights ago. Calvin sucked in a deep breath before tossing the bag at her. "Put that on," he instructed. Maggie nodded her head and lowered herself to open the bag. Inside was a dark wig, sunglasses, black leggings, a large dark blue t-shirt, and a red baseball cap. A disguise. Maggie frowned, scolding herself because she had not thought about it. Of course, she needed this.

"Thank you," she said, standing to her full height again before stripping herself of the plaid over shirt. Then she unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. "Were you followed?"

"Had a tail for a little while, but I lost him," Calvin stated, eyeing her as she slid the jeans down. "Everyone is looking for you. You killed two cops."

"… It was unplanned," Maggie told him. "But I couldn't stay locked up knowing that Kurt had our son. I released Pony Joe and the others with instruction to go get our son back. He was supposed to meet me here." The corner of his lips twitched twice. He was… irritated. No. Angry. "What? What is it?"

"He failed," Calvin told her. "We lost him, along with Skinner and Lynch. They died." Maggie furrowed her brow. She had not expected that result at all. Had Kurt's skillset increased so dramatically? Those three were some of the strongest among The Brotherhood. He had not been able to hold his own against Otto and Finn, after all. She had not thought he would take down three. Not by himself. "Your plan failed."

"We can try again," Maggie assured him. "If they still have our son-" Her husband suddenly scoffed. He folded his arms over his chest. "Is there something wrong with wanting our son back?"

"No. It's just… Here you go again," he said. "You always have a plan." He frowned then, clearly showing displeasure. "Do you even care that we lost another three?"

"Hank is the priority," Maggie reminded him. "It doesn't matter who or what else we lose as long as the outcome is our family reunited. Isn't that what you want as well?" Calvin hummed but did not comment. "So yes, I can come up with another plan to secure our boy from them," she continued, tugging the jeans from her legs. She then reached for the plastic bag to pull out the t-shirt. "Preparation is important." They were words her father had drilled into her mind at a young age.

"Mm." Calvin pursed his lips for a few seconds. "Yeah, was it also your… preparations to seduce Kurt back home?" Maggie's heart stuttered in her chest. She froze, and the accusation sunk deep within. He knew. How? Who told him? Would Kurt, himself, blurt it out? She had not thought the man would be so malicious. At a loss for words at the moment, Maggie could only stare back at her husband, lips parting and shutting. She swallowed thickly as her husband stepped towards her. "Hm. Yeah, I know about that," Calvin confirmed. "My thought is what the hell did you expect to happen if you had fucked him, huh? He'd come back and you two would just keep fucking behind my back? Take that secret to the grave?"

"No, that was… I-" The words lodged in her throat. It took quite a bit of effort to get them out without vomiting. "My f-father… It was an order, Calvin." Suddenly, Maggie found her back slammed against the wall behind her with her husband's hand on her throat. "Calvin…!" she whispered hoarsely. Her husband leaned in close, still calm despite their positions. His jaw tensed, though, showing the restrained anger behind the calm façade. Of course, he would be angry to know of the near infidelity. Of course. Maggie had been angry with herself. She deserved punishment for what she had thoughtlessly attempted to do.

"Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to find out your wife cheated on you? Surrounded by a fuckton of pigs?" Calvin questioned. Maggie pursed her lips, obviously not having an answer. She swallowed with difficulty and remained silent. She deserved this wrath. "Answer me," Calvin demanded, tightening his hold and pressing his forehead against hers. He did not constrict her airway. However, she would have deserved that as well. "What did you think was going to happen after you wrapped what's mine around his dick?"

"I-I just… You… It…" Maggie squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to calm down and speak properly. "I'm so sorry, Calvin," she whispered shaking her head a bit. "I just… I wanted you to be happy, Kurt resisted so much, and my fath-father was in my head. Any means, he said. I was… I was desperate. I just wanted things to go back to how they were. You were different after that night, and I thought that if he came back, we'd… we'd be a family again. But it would have only happened the once, I promise, and I never tried that tactic again. Please, I love you—only you. It's always been you. Only about you. I swear. I swear." Calvin sighed heavily, causing Maggie to open her eyes. Though her sight blurred with unshed tears, she could see the lingering anger in his expression. She doubted any word could placate him now. The tears fell, trickling down her cheeks. "I am so sorry, Calvin. I wasn't thinking-"

"Shut up," he told her, raising his other hand. His index finger stabbed at her cheek. Maggie swallowed again, abruptly closing her mouth as told. Her body trembled in anticipation. Calvin opened his eyes, gaze deep and piercing. "I don't have the time to muddle through your pretty words. I don't have time to figure out if I can even trust you anymore." Though she wanted to protest, she dutifully kept quiet. "But I've already lost too much to toss you away now. And we've got work to do. Now, put on the fucking wig and let's go."

He roughly released his hold on her before turning his back to her to wait by the door. Maggie nearly fell to the floor but managed to remain upright. Still trembling, she reached for the bag again and pulled out the items of her disguise. Once she changed, tucking blonde hair under the wig, she cautiously approached her husband. "What… What about Hank?" she murmured. "We can't just-"

"Shut up," he told her again. His voice had lost all warmth for her. Most likely, he would not be displaying any sort of warmth or affection towards her for quite some time. "Your plan got my second killed. You don't get to think about plans for Hank anymore." Maggie hugged herself, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I'll take care of that when the time comes. Right now, we focus on welcoming our guests."

"Guests…?" Maggie repeated. Calvin did not answer. Instead, he walked through the door, fully expecting her to follow him. She sniffled lightly and wiped at her face. She would follow him without protest. Her punishment was not over. Her husband was well within his rights to withhold things from her. Still, as her footsteps trailed behind, Maggie bit her tongue hard. Blood spilled into her mouth and she did not care if a bit of it slipped through her lips. Not to punish herself this time, though, but to stifle the near overwhelming outburst. He told her nothing. Forbid her from going after their boy. And firmly put her in her place. It was enraging. But she could do nothing in retaliation against her husband.

This was what she deserved.

0-0

To his right, Kurt heard Alison's attempt at stifling a yawn. It was expected. They had been on the road for hours. Alison had not slept properly since that night at her house. Neither had he. Only Naomi and Hank had managed deep sleep. Kurt glanced at the rearview mirror. Only an hour into the drive, both succumbed to sleep. Even strapped securely by the seatbelt, Hank used Naomi's padded car seat as a pillow. They both gripped their respective stuff animals. Granted, it had only been a five-hour drive from Banshee. However, their sleep had been interrupted. Kurt felt tired himself, probably because of that interruption. Back home, it had only taken an hour, or two, after the police to hit the road. The neighboring state of Ohio was the destination. After so many years, he would finally meet with the Millers again.

Kurt gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary. While he did not know what would happen with this reunion, he hoped they could forgive him enough to, at least, take in his daughter and nephew. Once they hear the situation, they would not turn him away. That was the hope. After all, they had not turned away a misguided, brainwashed, teenager. Eighteen years was a long time, but he hoped… Well, he had a lot of hope, but he intended to beg if need be. However, they were not the final resort. Alison, too, had a last resort. If this reunion did not work out, her best friend would take the role of safe haven. However, the Millers were close—and far away—enough to assuage both parents' worry. Alison had assured him that her best friend—Lena Bella—would go out of her way.

"You want me to take over?" Alison asked. Kurt looked her way, but she kept her eyes on the road ahead. She had not said much during the drive. "You look as tired as the kids."

"I'm good," Kurt told her. "It's just another hour or so."

"Mm… Are you nervous?"

"Incredibly," he muttered. Alison snorted lightly, clearly expecting that reaction. She said nothing in response, but her left hand settled on top of his knee. Kurt's grip on the wheel slackened and he sighed softly. "It's been so long. I would understand if their reaction to me is…" He tried not to wince as he recalled the memory of rejection. A sharp slap to the face and stoic words of banishment. Kurt shut his eyes for a few seconds. Even now, that moment stung like nothing else. "… is harsh. But I hope they, at least, listen afterwards."

"Kurt," Alison said his name, mildly scolding.

"I am responsible for their loss," he reminded her.

"No, you're not," she insisted. "It was someone else. You can't blame yourself for something out of your control." Kurt gave a noncommittal hum. Alison squeezed his thigh, causing him to look her way. "I mean it. You were a kid. Maybe they'll understand now. The same way you should understand." Kurt was not too sure of that. Grief was a powerful emotion. Strong like the sun and equally blinding at times.

Would eighteen years really be enough? He could not imagine it himself. If something happened to Naomi, he would carry that grief for the rest of his life. No matter the retaliation from whatever side. If Kurt had only made the right decision at the right time, Naomi—the first one—could have made it to adulthood. There was nothing he could give her parents in return for that loss of life. Hell, they had experienced two losses that horrible day, hadn't they? Kurt knew that he did not deserve any type of reprieve for that. But he banked on them remaining the compassionate people who took in a dumb kid like him.

"We'll see what happens," he said eventually. Clearing this throat, Kurt returned most of his focus to the road ahead, though he took comfort in Alison's hand still on his thigh. "How far out is your friend?" he questioned as a way to change the subject.

"She should arrive in Pennsylvania tomorrow night. I'll tell her where to meet me once we get back to Banshee," Alison replied. "If this doesn't work out, we can trust her."

"… Does she know about me?"

"She knows that I've reconciled with you, yes," Alison stated. "But, no, she doesn't know about the tattoos."

"That's gonna be a fun conversation," Kurt grumbled. Alison snorted again, and he sensed her mirth. "You should get some sleep," he advised.

"I'll sleep once we find a place," she said. "I've already found several places near the address that accepts walk-ins. Whatever happens, we'll both need the sleep before returning home." Kurt grunted in agreement. No matter which way the conversation went, he knew that it would be emotionally draining. Then it was quiet for a time. It was so peaceful that Kurt did not bring himself to think of what came next. Despite their destination becoming closer with each second. A road trip with his family. He never would have thought something like this was for him. "You know what this reminds me of?" Alison whispered. She slid closer, head settling against his shoulder. "That drive we made to see a movie."

"I think that trip involved more singing on your part," Kurt mentioned amused by the memory. Alison chuckled. "We had a lot less baggage then, too…"

"Yeah… Simpler times," she agreed. "Well, simple for us, I guess." A sigh left her mouth. "Now, it feels like whatever personal decision we make effects countless others—not just our daughter. I kinda wish we can go back to two years ago when we weren't making so many ripples."

"Yeah, I get that," Kurt said. His right hand slipped from the steering wheel and found hers. Their fingers clasped tightly. "There are a few things I would change if I could, but… most of it…? Worth it." Alison tilted her head upward. Kurt turned his head and looked down at her. Somehow, he felt a surge of affection looking at her like this. Like he wanted to suddenly kiss her. "It is," he insisted instead. "And it will be."

"Right. Worth it," she echoed. She appeared thoughtful before pressing her lips together. "You're right. No use in wishing to change the past now. The only way out is forward." He shifted his gaze back to the road and nodded his head. "Speaking of the way forward… Are you sure you want me to wait in the car when they open the door?" Of course, they had already talked about what would happen once they arrived at their destination. Kurt would try his best to remain… professional—which Alison thought was a horrible idea—and then explain the situation. Once explained and agreed upon, he would gesture for Alison to bring Naomi and Hank. If it was not agreed upon, the kids should not be brought to attention at all. They would go elsewhere to keep them safe. That was it. "I mean, you're not even in uniform."

"This is… something I have to do myself," Kurt admitted. "Besides, I think you'd try to defend me if a punch is thrown."

"That sounds right," Alison agreed, matter of fact. Kurt huffed in amusement. "Did Job tell you anything else about them?"

"He confirmed their marital status," he mentioned. "Still together, though there was evidence of separation for a few years." Kurt could guess the reason for that. Statistically, losing a child so young resulted in divorce. Alison hummed lightly, probably coming to the same assumption. "Officer Miller is no longer with the police force. He… He traveled the country for a bit before settling in Ohio. Mrs. Miller went to Jamaica for a while before returning to the states. They've been living together in Ohio for ten years now. Officer Miller runs a private security company while Mrs. Miller became a doctor."

"I suppose that makes sense…" Alison remarked. Kurt grunted. "It's probably been awhile since you've talked about them. Maybe… talking about how they were—how they used to interact with you—will help your nerves?"

It was a familiar tactic—one that Alison had used in the past. An effort to have him become used to talking about the Millers without hyperventilating. It had worked then. This time, she had not been so subtle about it. Kurt supposed they did not have time for subtly anymore. Not when two had become four, and the impending reunion banked on how well he could contain—work through—his emotions. A sigh left him, but he felt himself nod in agreement. Kurt started slow. It took several moments to pick out a memory. To form it, actually. It had been so long since that time. Eighteen years. But as he spoke, the memories became easier to step through. The sights, sounds, even the smells, sorta reawakened with him, and he found it easier to talk about.

He spoke of the time where Officer Miller finally allowed him to tinker with a vehicle instead of just holding the flashlight. When he had made an entire meal, by himself, for the family. Including dessert. The kitchen had been so messy from his efforts, and they all helped him clean it. One time, Mrs. Miller had baked so many cupcakes—for a fundraiser at Naomi's school—and Naomi had decided to pilfer a few cupcakes. The little girl had rushed into the room, pushed a purple frosted cupcake in his unsuspecting hand before hiding in the closest. Mrs. Miller came in, teeth gnashing, and upon finding him with a missing cupcake, let him have it. The only reason the both of them—himself and Naomi—received the tongue-lashing had been because she had not been able to hold back her mischievous snickers in the closet. Kurt also talked about the moment he realized he had a fondness for philosophy and literature, thanks to Khenan. Also, he talked about the first time he sat down to watch a marathon of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, which cemented his fascination with Will Smith.

Before Kurt knew it, the hour dwindled to seconds. According to Alison's GPS, the destination was on the right. Kurt blinked a few times, bringing the car to a full stop before switching gears to park. His eyes looked to the right beyond the window. Outside, there was a cobblestone walkway leading up to a simple two-story house. Painted a pale yellow with a vibrant blue door. Large front yard behind a picket fence and gate. Kurt swallowed hard, feeling his nerves rattle a bit. Less than he anticipated though. He cleared his throat, shifting his eyes to the woman beside him. During the stroll down memory lane, Alison had drifted off, finally succumbing to the exhaustion from the last few days.

Carefully, Kurt slipped his hand from hers, and then turned the key in the ignition. He glanced behind him as he pulled the key. Both Naomi and Hank still slept. Good. It made things… easier. Maybe. Kurt slowly shifted Alison's body away from his. She did not wake from the mild movement, only sank deeper in her seat. Satisfied, he opened the door and stepped out. He walked around the car to the sidewalk. He felt himself tense as he walked through the open gate. It was nearing 5:30 PM, so he hoped the both of them were home. He did not want to go through this emotional roller coaster twice in the same day.

Steeling himself, he walked up the few steps onto the porch. Kurt breathed deeply before his finger reached to press the doorbell. He then immediately stepped back, waiting for the door to open. No matter how much he wanted to—to feel some type of security—he refrained from moving his arms from his sides. Christ. He wished he had thought to wear his uniform. But it was too late for wishes. Kurt heard the doorknob turn and his heart jerked in response. Moment of truth. No changing his mind now. He nervously licked his lips, gaze razor-focused on the door opening.

Finally, the door opened completely, revealing an older man. Kurt already knew Officer Graham Miller approached fifty years of age, but the grays in his hair still surprised him. However, that seemed to be the only visible indicator of the man's age. That and the extra wrinkles around his sharp brown eyes. Kurt remembered a physically fit man. Though his muscle mass had decreased over the years, he still appeared imposing as far as stature. The man in front of him remained in shape despite the switch in profession. Maybe it had been because of the switch. He kept the same hairstyle, too. Shaved on all sides except the slicked back hair on top. He had a beard now—salt and peppered. Suddenly, Kurt felt like a seventeen-year-old boy again in his presence, wanting to impress another father figure. Christ.

"Who…?" The man's gaze darted all over, realization coming fast. Too fast for Kurt to open his mouth and give the standard reassurance. He knew what he looked like. Dressed in a simple t-shirt and dark jeans, of course people would assume the worst. Kurt, himself, would assume the worst. Graham's expression hardened, completely hostile. He rushed at Kurt, causing him to stumble back. He slammed into a column behind him with the former officer's arm pressed tightly against his throat. Paying no heed to strained breathing, Graham glared. His other hand wrapped around Kurt's wrist. "How fucking dare you?!" he snarled. "Why are you here?!"

Kurt expected this volatile confrontation from the moment he realized he would have to seek out the Millers. He expected a physical fight. However, the experience was unsettling to say the least. To have a man he admired stare at him with such hatred. Like he was just another monster. It was overwhelming. It choked the words out of him just like the arm. Kurt could not attempt to explain or apologize. He should not have showed up. Unannounced, at least. Might have saved him a chokehold. Even if he did deserve it. He could accept this no problem.

"Puttus…! What's wrong-?" Kurt's eyes darted beyond Graham's hardened face and settled on the woman that stepped onto the porch from inside the house. He recognized her immediately as Kendra Miller. She also approached fifty in age but she looked only a few years older than what Kurt remembered. Her long kinky hair had strands of brown and honey, ultimately lacking any visible greys. She wore casual clothing, like her husband, so maybe she had not worked today. The older woman halted, taking in the sight before her. Her brown hazel eyes examined him, but to his surprise, fear never seeped into her expression. Instead, her eyes widened in recognition. "Kurt…?" she whispered, hands reaching to cover her mouth.

"Kurt…?!" Graham's expression tempered considerably and so did his hold on Kurt's throat. Incredulity filled his eyes, but on further examination, he must have seen something he had missed before. The older man gapped, recoiling in shock. He completely removed his grip. "Kurt Bunker?" The revelation seemed to stagger him.

"I understand that my physical appearance may be unsettling, but I…" Kurt blinked rapidly. His throat constricted and his mouth ran dry. He had said the disclaimer numerous times to numerous people. However, only now did he feel the strain. Like a crushing weight, pinning him in place. It made it hard to remember the words. Kurt swallowed, forcing himself to continue though he felt the dual gazes like acid on his skin. "I-I assure you that my-my ties to the move-movement were se-severed… lo-long ago." He cleared his throat, feeling the strain worsen. His hand reached up, despite the audience, roughly rubbing at his neck. "Unfortunately… the remo-removal of my tat-tattoos… has taken longer than anticipated."

They said nothing in response. Only continued to stare, mouths open. Kurt felt like kicking himself. He felt younger than seventeen, actually. He had even stuttered. The last hour of driving and talking about pleasant memories of the family had helped his nerves. But they still rattled, anxiously waiting for the next instance. Would he be thrown off the porch for daring to show his face to them after all these years? Would they call the police on him not bothering to hear an explanation? Would he receive another slap and cold shoulder as they banished him from their lives again? Christ. Maybe this entire venture had been impractical. Foolhardy, even. What else could he expect from these people? Antipathy at worse. Apathy at best. Even with his kids' safety on the line.

"Look at you…" Kendra broke the stifling silence. Kurt felt himself flinch. He realized that he had kept his gaze firmly on the porch below him. "Look at you…!" A sharp breath left her, prompting Kurt to lift his line of sight. To his utter surprise, tears slipped from her eyes. She then stepped forward, hands reaching for him. Her palms cupped his cheeks and moved even closer to him. This… This was far from what he had expected. "We never should have left you there…!" Kendra sobbed. Her hands moved again, arms wrapping tightly around his neck to pull him into a bewildering embrace. "I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so sorry!"

The words sank slowly. The meaning behind the words sank slower. It took him a long while to grasp the words—the tears—meant regret. Kurt's vision suddenly blurred. All the sadness and shame he had felt for years over their separation from him… He had not been the only one to experience that. Now, chin pressed firmly on top of Kendra's shoulder, Kurt could understand that maybe he should not have waited so long. "Kurt…" His eyes looked up and through his blurred sight, he saw Graham step forward as well. Kendra released him as though sensing her husband's approach. Then the former officer wrapped his arms around him, too. "I-I can't… I can't believe it's you!" he said through clenched teeth.

He lost his daughter, Kurt, but after some time passed, maybe he thought... he lost a son, too.

Alison said that before. Back then, he had been too stubborn—too wrapped up in disbelief—to consider something like that. He had not deserved to consider something like that. But here he stood now, eighteen years later, being embraced by those who had cast him aside. Kurt felt as though he both crumbled and tensed in realization. His face scrunched up but it did not stop the flow of tears from falling from his eyes. He could have gotten this earlier than now. If only he hadn't been so much of a coward. Regret on both sides. Grief on both sides. They all could have had this reunion so much sooner and been on better terms than this. Clenching his jaw hard, Kurt finally returned the embrace.

If not for the firm hug, Kurt probably would have collapsed under the sheer relief that flooded his body. Still, he managed to stay upright for the duration. Eventually, Graham smacked his back twice, signaling the end of the hug. Kurt vividly recalled the man hugging him this way before—after a job well done starting up a car without help. He had said he would take him fishing as a reward. They never made that fishing trip. The former officer reared back, obviously taking the time to examine him further. He looked pleased, yet disappointed.

"Look at you," Graham echoed his wife. He shook his head. "What you've become…" Of course, to most people, the additional ink across his skin marked him as a monster. Someone who judged. Someone close-minded. Someone who had sank themselves deep into a… a cult. "That…" Graham firmly grasped Kurt's shoulder. "That doesn't matter now. You're here. You found us."

"You found us," Kendra repeated. She moved to hug him again. It was… confounding, to say the least. "I prayed for you—every night—for years." She sniffled and tightened her grip on him. "I never should have…" She did not finish the sentence, but Kurt got the sense of what she referred to. After all, he had been on the receiving end of her slap. Again, he swallowed hard before moving his arms around her.

"I deserved it," he murmured.

"You didn't…!" Kendra told him. She lowered her arms, ending the embrace, but did not step away. "What happened was not your intention or fault. It… It should not have taken me so long to…" The woman bowed her head. "But Naomi… my baby… I-I-"

"I know," Kurt said. "You had every right to make me a target of your anger." He curled his fingers into fists. "I-I should have cut ties, but I didn't… I dragged that life into yours, and I-" Kendra grabbed his hands. "Mrs. Miller…?"

"You were not responsible," she insisted. "I realized that a long time ago. But I guess you never did." She smiled sadly. "Oh, Kurt… We know that you weren't to blame. You were just a boy."

"Who made the stupidest mistakes," Kurt said, discomfited. "Who kept going back."

"We didn't give you a choice," Graham spoke up. "After we left, what else could you turn to?" He sighed heavily. "We were angry, and you were a visible target." He shut his eyes for a few seconds. "We were angry at ourselves, too, which is why…" The reason for their split, Kurt assumed. "Afterwards… we should have gone back. Explained. Apologized. But losing Naomi was still a raw wound."

"I understand," Kurt mumbled with a nod.

"You don't," Graham retorted. "… And I hope there won't ever come a time you have to." Kurt frowned deeply. His father figure might have said that unaware of the situation, but it truly hit close to home. "Regardless, even though I don't think there's any need for it, you are forgiven." Kurt pressed his lips together, mentally shoving the urge to cry again. The effort it took nearly strangled him. The rush of a weight lifted, after carrying it for so long, was both freeing and jarring. And so completely unexpected.

"Thank you, sir…" Kurt managed. He cleared this throat and looked down for a moment, mostly to compose himself. It had not been the reason he had come, but it had been nice all the same. Forgiveness. They could forgive him. Maybe now he could forgive himself… Kurt cleared his throat again, lifting his gaze. "Although I wish I could say this was just a social visit—a way to catch up, that's not the case." Right. Down to business then. He slipped away from the boy image his alternate parents drove him into with their forgiveness and reverted to the man that had come to ask a favor. He could ask now, couldn't he? Instead of beg.

"Of course… I can't imagine anything less than drastic for you to come to us," Graham remarked. Stiffly, Kurt nodded his head. "Alright. Have a seat then." The man gestured to the left at the white wicker patio furniture set. Two cushioned chairs against the wall of the house while the couch had been placed opposite of the chairs against the banister. A set up for entertaining guests. This request would definitely be a disruption in their lives. Kurt refrained from heaving a guilty sigh as he sat down on the couch. Graham and Kendra took their seats as well. "So, what drastic turn of events led you to our door?"

"Let me start off by saying… I still live in Banshee," Kurt began. Mirroring frowns formed on their faces but they did not speak. "I made a life for myself and I'm proud of the job—career—that I have. I am a deputy of the Banshee County Sheriff's Department."

"Oh…!" Kendra sounded surprised. She glanced at her husband. "A police officer?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kurt replied, pride swelling. Judging from the look on Graham's face, he seemed a bit prideful as well. "As I'm sure you know I have a duty to protect and serve the town. Right now… I can't do my job effectively, which is why I'm here. My former-" He halted, realizing that calling them brothers was not accurate. "-gang has risen in power in the last few years." Expectedly, their expressions soured.

"The Brotherhood," Kendra spoke through clenched teeth.

"Yes," Kurt confirmed, dipping his head in shame. "Unfortunately, my ties with them have made it all the more personal, so… I am in need of a safe haven. I know this is sudden, but I was hoping you could provide me with one. Only for a few days."

"You want to stay here? With us?" Graham questioned. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Until the heat dies down?"

"No, sir, not me," Kurt replied. "I… I have a family. A-A little girl and a nephew. The Brotherhood has already tried to get at them. They're not safe at home right now."

"A daughter and a nephew…" Kendra said. "Well, I can see why this counts as drastic."

"They're young," Kurt told them. "And you're far enough away to prevent them from coming for the kids again. Yet close enough to get to for us."

"… See?" Graham looked to his wife. "I told you we should have moved to Canada." Thankfully, that had been a joke. Kurt recognized the attempt at humor in a serious situation. Kendra playfully slapped at her husband's thigh and rolled her eyes. Their dynamics had not changed too much despite the massive loss. "Well? I assume you haven't come all this way without intending to introduce them."

"Yes, sir," Kurt said, standing. Pleased that the confrontation hadn't exactly been a confrontation, he became more comfortable with leaving his daughter and nephew with them. Hopefully, Alison would become more confident after speaking with them. Speaking of which, when he approached the car, he noted the woman watching him. Her deep brown eyes scrutinized him but her expression softened as he drew close. She opened the car door and stepped out to greet him. "That went better than expected," he stated. The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a relieved smile. She returned the smile with one of her own.

"Did you tell them what we need yet?" Alison questioned. "What did they say?"

"For now, we should get introductions out of the way," Kurt said. "You want to talk to them before leaving the kids here anyway," he reminded. Alison nodded her head. "Let's go." Together, the two of them pulled Naomi and Hank from the backseat. The movement barely broke their slumber. Hank wrapped his arms and legs around Alison's front and rested his head on her shoulder. Naomi clung to Kurt's side, cooing in her sleep. Secured, both he and Aliso made their way up to the porch. Expectedly, Graham and Kendra stared wide-eyed. "Mr. Miller, Mrs.… I mean Dr. Miller—this is Alison Medding," Kurt gestured with his free hand. "She is an Assistant District Attorney in Banshee."

"Pleasure to meet you," Alison greeted politely. "I've heard many things about you."

"… All good, I hope," Graham managed, though his eyes darted between Alison and Naomi. Kurt felt himself flush. Instead of answering, Alison narrowed her eyes a bit. "Please, sit down." Taking the invitation, she did so, soothingly rubbing her palm up and down Hank's back. Kurt sat down on the couch next to her, maneuvering his child to sit in his lap. "And you two are…?"

"Partners," Kurt replied. Anything else felt either too juvenile or did not fit their current relationship. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Alison nod her head in agreement. "She's holding Hank, my nephew. I have official custody of him. And this…" He trailed off a bit, lightly bouncing Naomi in his lap. The girl yawned and blinked, completely awake from her nap. She rubbed at her left eye before giving him a sleepy smile. He returned it and lightly pressed a kiss against her forehead. "This is our daughter. Her name is… Her name is Naomi."

The name drop triggered a more dramatic reaction. Kendra gasped sharply, staring at the girl in wonder. Graham abruptly stood from his chair, expression slipping into unreadable. The cutting movement caused Naomi to still in his lap. She looked at the older man in curiosity before pointing at him. "Like Dabun!" she said her observation aloud. The near squeal melted some of the tension but not all.

"Ms. Alison…?" Hank groggily lifted his head. His cousin's voice must have woken him up. "Where are we? I'm hungry."

"We'll get dinner soon," Alison said, keeping her focus on the Millers. "First, I'd like to introduce you to some people—people who took care of your uncle when he was younger." Curiosity peaked, Hank shifted in Alison's lap until he faced the older couple. "This is Mr. and Dr. Miller. Say hi."

"Hi…" Hank greeted politely. "My name's Hank."

"… Hello, Hank…" Graham's eyes flickered to the boy but almost immediately went back to Naomi. His jaw rapidly clenched and unclenched. "You… You named your daughter after-after my daughter? A namesake?" Kurt nervously averted his gaze. He still could not get a proper read on the man's reaction. Clearly, he was emotional about it, but he was holding back. Restraining himself. Kurt did not know if that was a good or bad thing right now.

"He didn't," Alison spoke up, diverting the focus on her. "I did. He told me about the person he viewed as a sister. So, I thought her memory should honored. Because she, along with you, shaped him into the man he is today. Is that not all right? Is my daughter's name going to stop you from considering this circumstance?"

For a few moments, no one spoke. Then, apparently bored now, Naomi shimmied out of Kurt's grasp. Hank copied her movements. Wanting to play, she dashed away. Her cousin took off after her, making sure to grab her hand to guide her off the porch. "Stay close!" Kurt called to them. Dual confirmations came, followed closely by gleeful laughter because they had started an impromptu game of tag in the front yard. Kurt felt himself smiling at the sight. Then he shifted his attention on the Millers. They, too, watched the kids run around the yard. They had softened considerably. "I get that this is all sudden," he said, gaining their attention. "I wish this was under a different circumstance. But I need to get rid of The Brotherhood and I can't risk Naomi again."

Saying her name again seemed to bring the Millers out of their stunned state. Both husband and wife looked towards him. Then Kendra lightly patted Graham's arm, prompting him to lower himself back on the chair. "It… It was just a shock," he muttered. "This entire thing is a shock, Kurt. You showing up out of the blue, partners with-" He waved in Alison's direction. The implication was enough to make Kurt flush again. "-an Assistant District Attorney, having a daughter… Asking us to watch out for her and your nephew. It's a lot."

"I'm sure that's what Dr. Miller thought when you brought me home," Kurt mentioned.

"You have no idea," Kendra remarked, snorting lightly. Her husband looked her way, eyes narrowed in a heatless glare. She only snorted again, amused. Then her expression turned serious. "You must understand, Kurt…" Her eyes lowered for a moment. "You've essentially put us in a bind. With our schedules… We don't exactly have things here to take care of a child—let alone two. It's been so long… I-I-" Tears sprang to her eyes again. "I d-don't know if I could do this all again." Graham slid his palm over Kendra's knee, and she relaxed under his touch.

"Look, we don't have a choice but to leave our kids with someone else while we handle things in Banshee," Alison stated. "Kurt would like your cooperation in this matter because it might be for the best. You are the only people The Brotherhood cannot connect to us, so Naomi and Hank would be the safest here. All we're asking for is a few days, but we do understand this is a massive interruption in your lives. We're not forcing this on you. We have another option—someone I trust. But Kurt trusts you and I trust his judgment, so I'm willing to leave my daughter here. Only if you allow it."

Graham furrowed his brow, watching Alison with a different sort of light than before. Again, Kurt flushed. It felt like he was a teenager, presenting his first girlfriend to his parents. He shifted nervously in his seat. Finally, the older man leaned back in his seat, displaying a thoughtful frown. Kurt recognized it as a 'not bad' type of thoughtful frown. "You intend to take out The Brotherhood together?" he questioned. "An ADA and a cop?"

"As it should be," Alison replied. Graham gave a slight nod of agreement. "If it's truly not possible for you to house Naomi and Hank, we can go elsewhere, so there is no need to feel pressured into making a decision. However, we are on a time constraint. Already, steps have gone into play in dealing with The Brotherhood's end and we need to be there for the rest."

"How much time are you giving us to reach a decision?" Graham asked.

"Well, the kids are hungry. I figure we'd go out to eat before staying the night at a hotel," Kurt said. "We could come back tomorrow afternoon or-or evening—whatever works for you." Graham sighed lightly. "If you choose to do this, you would be compensated for your time."

"They have the essentials in their bags as well, so you would not need to buy anything extra," Alison stated.

"No matter what you decide, I won't hold it against you," Kurt said. "And… I hope it won't be the last time we meet." They said nothing in response to that, so Kurt nodded his head and moved to stand. Alison followed his lead. "Mr. Miller., Dr. Miller." He bid them goodbye and turned. He felt Alison's fingers slide against his to grasp his hand. It went better than expected, but he could not stop the inklings of disappointment with this type of departure.

"Wait…!" Kendra's voice stopped them just as they had been about to step off the porch. Kurt looked back at the woman. She had stood up, and similarly, Graham held her hand. However, she focused most of her attention on them. "Won't you stay for dinner? May-Maybe you can further explain the situation in Banshee. Or maybe the story behind this coupling? Tell us about your kids. Anything, just… stay for dinner?" Huh. Maybe she had kept him in mind for all these years. Kurt turned to Alison. She frowned a bit but nodded in agreement.

"Okay," Kurt replied, answering Kendra. "Thank you, ma'am." Maybe this trip would not be as unnecessary as he first thought. "We'd love to stay."

0-0

It was a quiet night in Banshee, Pennsylvania. Local businesses began the process of shutting down. Workers made their home. Stragglers hurried to pick things up for dinner. People passed one another on the streets and sidewalks, exchanging friendly smiles and brief greetings. Despite the growth in population in recent years, Banshee remained a town of know thy neighbor. Everyone knew everyone to some extent. It was the phenomenon of small towns. Therefore, when anything out of routine happened, people took notice immediately. Streetlights flickering nonstop during the night. A minor fender-bender happening in the middle of downtown. A man in his fifties buying a flashy red corvette convertible. By the end of the day, most citizens would know. Just ready to gossip. The next difference in routine would be known throughout Banshee, spreading from the few initial witnesses.

It started as a low rumble that did not quite register. Then it increased in volume. The gradual approach of a multitude of vehicles caught the attention of bystanders. It began with two men on motorcycles with large American flags attached to the back of their vehicles. Then came the large pickup trucks, painted in the colors of red, white, and blue. More large trucks followed, displaying more memorabilia. Red, white, and black—the symbol of the Nazi party. The face of Hitler. German words spray-painted on their vehicles. The Confederate flag. On and on it went like a train—a line of tattooed men took up the entire road. Like a horrifying parade.

Despite the darkening sky, the streetlamps clearly showed them. The citizens of Banshee stopped in their tracks, gawking at the sight of them. Some stopped. Others ducked down alleys or darted in the opposite direction to avoid being seen for obvious reasons. One man in particular stared in speechless revulsion from inside his business. He stared beyond the glass as the parade of hate, surprisingly, passed without incident. It did not matter. Eventually, this type of… army would create incident. An unprecedented one in this simple town. The man frowned deeply as he watched. Then a sigh escaped his painted pink lips.

"Suck my tit…!" Job hissed, reaching into his pocket to pull out his cell phone.

0-0

Overall, the trip to Ohio had been successful. Alison still wished it hadn't been so necessary. Leaving her child, and Hank, with strangers might have been among the hardest things she could do in her lifetime. Still, it had been necessary. With the children safe from harm, they could end things. Were they being reckless? Yes. Stupid even. But the home invasion indicated they could not go about this problem in the right way. The right way would see her child in danger again and again until eventually death could claim her. Alison could not allow that. No matter what. After the home invasion, the right way was no longer an option. So, let the enemy come. They would get what they deserved.

Ohio had been emotionally draining. The dinner had shifted into staying the night in the guestroom. Through their overnight stay, Alison had become more at ease with leaving Naomi and Hank with them. After the second night, she decided it would be okay. Both husband and wife had been accommodating. She suspected to appease Kurt. Funny, that. The three of them spent nearly two decades feeling guilty about what had happened, blaming themselves for the fallout. In the end, there were tears and comfort. Forgiveness and nostalgia. Alison learned more about the dynamics between them both past and present. Not to mention, the children had charmed the couple quite easily. Graham and Kendra decided to allow them to stay. It had been a relief. Still exhausting to get through, though. For both Kurt and herself. While Kurt had spoken with the Millers on particulars, Alison had told the children of the arrangement.

Expectedly, both children had given grievances on being left behind, tearing up as they exchanged goodbyes. Still, they had promised to be brave. Hank even promised to protect his cousin without prompt. For someone so young, he understood—to some extent—what was happening around him. It was both impressive and troubling. She wished this certain stain would not have reached them in the first place. But if wishes were poppy…

Anyway, she and Kurt were on the way home now. Tired as he was, Kurt slept for most of the trip back. Even now, he slept, reclined in the front sleep, unaware of how close they were to Banshee. As good as he slept, it was probably a good idea to wake him. There had not been much discussion in regards to where they would be staying for the next few days. She really hoped Calvin had not been petty and torched their homes. But if he did, perhaps they would finally decide to take Brock up on his offer. Or a motel…? Alison found herself grimacing. Maybe if the motel lied outside of Banshee… In any case, they needed to talk.

Therefore, without hesitation, Alison removed one hand from the steering wheel and slid her palm across Kurt's front. He groaned a bit, muscles flexing underneath her touch. Then he opened his eyes only to blink rapidly to adjust against the setting sun. Kurt grunted as he sat up, grabbing her wandering hand and adjusting his seat upright with the other. "What time is it?" Kurt questioned. He slid a palm down his face. "We home?" His eyes examined the outside.

"Just a few miles out," Alison said. "Just wanted to know where we're parking. It's probably too risky to stay at our houses, so-"

"Actually, I was thinking we could stay at my house because it's so risky," Kurt said. "It'll be the last place anyone would look for us. This early, your house is still under lock because of the investigation, so it should be my place. If they had planned to look there, they would have already done it while we were out of town, so that gives us an advantage. They'll waste time trying to find us in motels in the area before ultimately giving up. I know their tactics, so we'll be fine."

"Hm… If there was ever a time to be glad you were a part of that gang, this would be it," Alison remarked, wryly. Kurt said nothing in response. Alison glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. True, Kurt was normally a bit taciturn, but she had gotten good at reading between the lines. It wasn't worry etched in the lines. It was resignation. Not the same as before though. They both decided what needed to be done, but his reaction was different. More towards bleak than determined. "Hey," she said, catching his attention. "Penny for your thought?"

"It's… It's not important," he replied.

"I beg to differ," Alison said, eyes on the road. "For one, you haven't let go of my hand yet… and you're trembling." Immediately, Kurt forced himself to stop shaking. However, he did not release her hand. "We've come too far for miscommunication. Don't know about you, but I'd rather not go back." It took him a beat but eventually he sighed.

"It was just a dream," Kurt began. He threaded his fingers with hers. "A memory, really… You know, dad wasn't always drunk though I wouldn't call him sober. Still, sometimes, he would do things for Calvin and I—take us places. Some places were fun. Others were… not suitable for kids, but it was better than the abuse at home. Reprieve from the norm." Alison frowned, already not liking the memory. Kurt did not normally mention his past—not before The Brotherhood—and with good reason. He came from an abusive home. The only reason she knew about it was because they had been in a dire situation. "He liked taking us to fighting pits—cocks, dogs, bulls. There was one for horned beetles, if you can believe it."

"Beetles…?" Alison felt herself make a face at that.

"Yeah, that didn't last," Kurt said. "So, mostly, we went to dog fights. Once, Calvin—still naïve—asked dad if… if fights ever ended in a tie." He swallowed hard. "Dad just looked at them, and then laughed in his face." Kurt shook his head, eyes unfocused as he relived the memory. "He told him… There's only ever one way that a dogfight ends. And I just… watched as my brother's face crumbled. Disappointed. Sad. Looking back… I think that's twisted him—shaped him."

"It was a lie… A lie from a gambling addict," Alison said.

"Calvin didn't know that," Kurt mumbled. "And I didn't have the heart to correct my dad. So, those words stayed with him. Before The Brotherhood turned it into an ideology. Maybe if I had said something then… he wouldn't've acclimated so easily. Maybe I would have had the thought to take him with me when I left—to take him to the Millers to have a different perspective, but here we are now. On our way to the dogfight. And I have to be the one to end it. It has to be me."

"Kurt, you're not dogs," Alison told him.

"Maybe… But I am a monster," he said. "That won't change. So… I need to do what must be done. It's what I deserve. Putting down the threat I created." To that, Alison could not think of a response. But she understood the grim factor now. He thought he would have to kill his brother. Maybe that was what this entire thing spiraled down to. Brother versus brother. Only one could survive the conflict. Those were the grim essentials of what they intended. But to be the one…? In his shoes, Alison did not believe she could do the same.

The next few miles were silent. Finally, they made it to the Welcome Banshee Town Limit sign. They just needed to pass the long stretch of road into town. Maybe they should pick up something before heading back to his place. Alison hummed in thought, wondering what she would want for dinner. She was a bit hungry since they had skipped lunch in order to stay on the road. So much into her thoughts about eating, Alison nearly missed her turn. Thankfully, she noticed the street sign and shifted lanes in time. However, the reason she noticed the street sign dealt with who stood underneath it.

A group of men—four of them—lazed about, appearing to have not a care. Clad in leather, they talked amongst themselves. Two sat upon motorcycles, giving them the appearance of being a part of a biker gang. However, what set them apart was the ink decorating their visible skin. Alison became rigid. What were they doing so close to the downtown area? They had never been so bold. Fortunately, they paid her vehicle no mind as she drove by. Then she spotted another cluster of them down the street. Then another. Then another. Then another. Neo-Nazis scattered throughout the town. It was a nightmare come to life.

"Jesus Christ…!" Alison hissed through clenched teeth upon spotting another group of them. She patted Kurt's thigh, harsher than intended, in order to wake him again. However, from the corner of her eye, she saw that he had already been awake and alert. He, too, scrutinized downtown's added populace. Speaking of the populace, there was no one else walking around. This time of day, there should have been normal citizens strewed throughout. Not that she could not understand people making themselves scarce. "What the hell is going on?"

"You see the buildings?" Kurt asked, which, of course, made her shift her attention to the line of businesses. Most displayed signs, indicating closures for the day. Odd, given the time. Others had hard wooden planks covering the windows. Job's salon being one of them. A preemptive safeguard? "We can't go home like this. We need to find out what's going on." Alison nodded her head, swallowing the saliva in her mouth. "Head to the station. Sheriff Hood probably knows."

"It's only been two days…" Alison whispered. Kurt remained quiet, watching the movements of the monsters outside as they drove towards the center of downtown. Within minutes, Alison came to a halt across the street from the police station. She spotted no cruisers parked out front, though. What she did see was a crowd of people in front of the entrance. She squinted, hoping to get a better look. Judging from the cameras and microphones, she could guess a press conference was about to take place. The podium was just another indicator. The crowd seemed to be waiting. There were not about to simply walk through the reporters.

Kurt shifted in his seat. "Go down the street, and then make a right," he said. "We'll have to go in through the back." Nodding, Alison resumed driving. She followed his instructions and parked in an alleyway. Fortunately, she could not see any inked men hovering nearby. Nearly in unison, she and Kurt unstrapped themselves and exited the car. He led her to stairs that led down into the building. The door was reinforced metal with a keypad and fingerprint. Jesus Christ. Alison wondered if the extra security had been Job's idea. Kurt had mentioned the tech's office was in the basement. Along with an armory with the heavy artillery. The weapons up front were only pistols and shotguns. They kept the more powerful weapons locked up and out of sight. She supposed the extra security was warranted.

Alison stood behind Kurt as he jabbed a five-digit number, and then scanned his smallest finger. With a loud buzz, the door unlocked, allowing him to pull it open. He, of course, gestured to go in first. The heavy door shut behind them as they made their way through the basement and up the stairs. It had not been too much of a surprise not seeing anyone in the basement. However, the desk area was deserted. No one was walking around either. Was this normal? Alison turned to question Kurt, but he had already made a quick beeline for the next set of stairs. Hurriedly, Alison followed, spotting the back of Lucas Hood in his office up top. The two walked up, and Kurt, ever so polite, knocked on the glass of the door. Alison leaned to the side to peek in. Two pairs of eyes stared back at her before the Sheriff gestured them in.

"Sir," Kurt greeted his sheriff with a tilt of his head. "Deputy Chief Sheriff," he acknowledged Brock as well. "What's happening around town? We saw-"

"Yeah, we know," Brock huffed lightly. "Nazis on our doorstep. Quite the welcoming committee, aren't they?" The bearded man shook his head. "Everyone in town is freaking out about it. Got people closing up shop, going home early, not venturing out after dark. Everyone's too afraid to make a move and calling us to complain about it. Thing is: we can't even issue a ticket for loitering, never mind anything else."

"They're not doing anything?" Alison questioned. "You're telling me Neo-Nazis are just what? Sightseeing?"

"Nah, they're waiting for something," Lucas remarked. His eyes flickered between Alison and Kurt. "And I think I know why." The two in question exchanged a look. "I'm guessing you took your nephew somewhere safe?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied. "You think Calvin ordered this?"

"You think he didn't?" Brock retorted. "He is the leader of The Brotherhood here."

"But a single leader can't authorize a union like this," Kurt supplied. "It would have to come from maybe several levels up the chain. Doubt anyone would give permission to do something like this over a single kid." Alison had to agree, which was why this situation felt befuddling. "Are you tracking their movements, sir? How many are we dealing with?"

"Yep, Job's putting in overtime to keep track," Lucas stated. Alison tried not to think about how the hacker went about doing that. Couldn't be entirely legal. Hell, it was not entirely legal what she and Kurt set out to do either, so perhaps she could keep her rocks when she had a glass house herself. "It's not just the downtown area, though they're keeping clear of City Hall and BSD. Their numbers are scattered throughout Banshee. Combined with our resident assholes, we're estimating close to two hundred." A daunting number, for sure. "I have every abled body out on patrol in order to keep the civilians calm. But it's not enough. We don't have the manpower to counter whatever your brother's planning, so-"

"What do you think he's planning?" Brock interjected.

"I have no idea…" Kurt frowned. "Honestly, I don't know him as well as I thought. Do we still have eyes on him?"

"… Unfortunately, during a shift change, Calvin slipped through the cracks," Lucas said. "We have no idea where he is now."

"Which means he could have met up with his wife by now," Alison scowled. "I shudder to think what they have planned now that they are together without their child."

"If Calvin did call them here and ordered them to stand back and standby, scattered around town, I can't see this as nothing but getting prepared," Kurt mentioned. That was a chilling thought. Bad enough they had to deal with Banshee's numbers, but now others had trickled into town. Could Kurt and she still go through with their decision as it stood? "Eventually, they're going to stop loitering, sir."

"That's what we're afraid of," Brock grumbled.

"We're hoping this press conference will ease the tension—stall for time—while we figure out what our next move is," Lucas told them. "In the meantime, it's probably best that you don't go back to work, Alison. Maybe now's the time to get out of dodge until this blows over."

"It's not going to blow over," Alison retorted. "No matter what happens next, this will only end in blood." Brock frowned deeply at her words. Lucas, however, gave her a thoughtful look. Perhaps he recalled her indecisive reaction after returning to Banshee after a few years. Perhaps he wondered what brought on the change within her. It should not be a wonder. These monsters had gone after those she loved for the last time. "Question is: What are you going to do about it?"

"We have to think this through," Lucas told her. "With this large amount-"

"That's an excuse," Alison said. "How many times have you gone full throttle by yourself or with a handful of people?" The Sheriff only reacted with a slight narrowing of his eyes. "I seem to recall it happening twice with me being a part of the handful. I'm sure there were more instances, right? So don't try to spoon feed me bullshit. I don't like the way it tastes coming from you."

"Alison-!" Brock seemed shocked.

"Do not talk to me like a child," she cut him off, deadly calm. She did not remove her gaze from the Sheriff, but she could tell Brock sharply shut his mouth. "You've been sitting in this position too long. You've actually acclimated to the role, but I know that's all it is for you—a role. Well, I don't need that role anymore. So, give me someone I can use… or I'll do it for you."

"That sounded like a threat, Alison," Lucas pointed out. She chose not to dignify that with a response. Lucas sighed lightly. "Well then… Whatever you think of me, I can't just selfishly think of only the few this time. So, until we figure out what their next move, we're doing just this. A press conference to lower tensions until we have a set plan in place. You two lay low as to not provoke a reaction. I fucking mean it."

"Yes, sir…" Kurt murmured, but his eyes showed something else.

"Good," Lucas said, obviously not seeing the same thing in his deputy's eyes. "It's time for the press conference. Sneak out back while Brock's talking."

"Brock is going to speak?" Alison asked. "Shouldn't it be you, Sheriff?"

"I'm camera shy," Lucas said with a shrug of his shoulders and a grin on his face. Beside him, Brock huffed. Alison refrained from rolling her eyes. She could guess the real reason he did not want to appear on television. Ignoring the reactions, Lucas shifted his focus on Brock. "Make sure to stick to the script, Brock. We can't let this get out of hand."

"Yeah, I know that," Brock stated. "Let's get this over with."

With that being said, the two men stood up from their chairs. They made their way to the door, giving Alison and Kurt a farewell nod. She watched them go, biting her lower lip in thought. She suddenly felt Kurt grab her hand. Slowly, their fingers clasped together and she looked at him. She saw his unasked question in his eyes. Did this change anything? Again, she bit her lip. The numbers had been a drastic change… Already, their decision had been reckless. No. They were already on the road of no return. The Brotherhood would fall and it had to be within the next few days. Had to. Alison squeezed his hand and gave a stiff nod.

"You trust me?" she asked.

"Of course, I do," Kurt stated.

"Then… We have to remove the option of compromise," Alison told him. "No compromise. No stalling. No mercy."

"I'm with you," Kurt assured, squeezing her hand back. "No mercy."

Alison did not allow herself to smile—because it was a serious thing they were attempting—but she could not deny the fluttering in her belly. Mildly relieved by his confidence in her, she led him out of the office and back down the stairs. No sign of Brock, but Lucas stood by the front entrance, watching. The press could not see him clearly, but he could see them. Alison, too, eyed the crowd as she approached the door. Lucas noticed her approach but did not say anything. Good. By the time he realized, it would be too late to stop her. Despite the thick glass, Alison could still hear muffled words as Brock made to calm the questions the reports fired at him in rapid succession.

"At the moment," he said. "We cannot be certain the reason for this sudden influx of people with… with a different set of beliefs, but I can assure you the Banshee Sheriff's Department will do everything we can to keep our citizens safe—all citizens—but especially those who need it the most. Our officers and deputies are working around the clock and we won't let up about this…" He went on, repeatedly assuring and pacifying. He used different ways to phrase it, but in the end, it was all the same. Always vague. Nothing concrete on the next step in dealing with a horde of monsters. Even though the answer was right there. The only answer.

Clenching her teeth, and hardening her resolve, Alison pushed open the door. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the Sheriff attempt to grab at her. However, Kurt blocked his hand from reaching, allowing her to go outside. Her sudden presence effectively interrupted. All eyes on her, including Brock's, she made her way to the podium. Furrowing his brow, Brock attempted to say something to her. However, behind them, another set of doors opened. Kurt came out, hand already reaching to pull his superior away from the podium. Brock could do little else but sputter in protest.

Alison took his place at the podium and looked into the crowd of reporters. Most appeared baffled by the change. Others seemed intrigued. "Citizens of Banshee, allow me to introduce myself," she began, voice carrying because of the microphones in front of her. "Some of you may know me already. Most of you wouldn't." She licked her lips before continuing. "My name is Alison Medding. I am an Assistant District Attorney—former District Attorney of Banshee, Pennsylvania. I grew up in this town. Watched it grow and adapt with time and resources. I've witnessed the positives this town has to offer… and the negatives, as you can imagine."

"But what is happening to Banshee now is without equal," Alison continued. "They come and they break into our homes. They hurt us. They rape us. They intend to steal our children. Most recently, they invaded Amish lands and slaughtered our most passive community. This… gang so thoroughly disregarded human lives, and now they send more—to take more. Our town is overrun with monsters and their atrocities will only get worse. Remaining passive and afraid will only give them the power and belief that they can spread pain and suffering. Completely unchecked. But don't think for a second this is geared towards certain ethnicities. True, we'd be their first targets—just like the Amish—but it won't only be your neighbors suffering. Doing nothing will not be your protection!"

Then her matter-of-fact tone shifted to grim. As did her expression. "They will come for you in the exact same way, simply because you choose not to fill yourself with hate like them. You won't be safe as long as there is any uncertainty to how they do things. To even think their actions are unjustified will make you no different from us, according to their horrid beliefs." Her thoughts turned to Kurt. He had endured so much simply because he had turned his back on their beliefs. "They'll come for you just like they came for my… partner. Once a part of their ranks, he eventually chose a different path. A better way. He became a person that chose to protect and serve the people of Dade County and now his hometown of Banshee."

Alison's gaze left the crowd and shifted to her left. Kurt stood there, form blocking Brock from intervening—though, the man still remained stunned. He caught her eye, mirroring her expression. Still, he looked just as resolved as well. He stepped closer, facing the crowd with his hands behind his back. As he wore a long-sleeved shirt, his ink wasn't quite visible. But a few reporters in the front noticed and audible gasped at the sight. Or perhaps the realization Alison referred to him as partner.

"I am Deputy Kurt Bunker of the Banshee Sheriff's Department," he introduced himself. "I know my physical experience may be unsettling, but I assure you my ties to… to that cause have been severed for quite some time. Unfortunately, the removal of my tattoos will not happen. They are the reminder of my mistake. They are the scars of my hateful past. They are the marks that ostracize me. And I deserve that. I deserve all your heated glares and mistrust. But what is happening now is bigger than me."

Slowly, Kurt removed hands behind his back. Then he removed his shirt. More gasps from the crowd. With his chest on full display, the horrible burn shocked the crowd and hopefully the audience at home. "This is what they did to him for wearing the uniform of a cop," Alison informed them. She grit her teeth because it still infuriated her. "If they can do this to someone they called brother… then they can do worse to anyone not affiliated," Alison insisted. "They'll come for your neighbor, and then your sons! Your daughters! Your wives! Your husbands! Your friends! Your coworkers!"

"Now is not the time for fear!" Kurt spoke up louder. "Now is not the time to sit back and let this happen! Take it from me: The Brotherhood is too dangerous to ignore! Too dangerous to just watch!"

"The threat is already here and we cannot let it spread further," Alison continued, matching his volume despite the microphones. "Doing so will only be permission for them to keep doing what they do."

"Wh-What should we do against them?" One nervous-looking reporter questioned. "Since they're so dangerous, the police-"

"Is no match and they know it," Kurt cut in. "They're all cowards who can only make a move if they're in a group."

"So, rise up together," Alison said. "Only together can we stand. Only together can we survive the threat of The Brotherhood. What we deserve is to take back what they're attempting to steal. What we deserve is to feel safe within our homes. No one will be safe until we're all safe from this invasion!"

"We can't let them win! Whatever it takes!" Kurt said. "No mercy for people like them!"

Alison spread her arms wide. "And to the ones responsible for this… clash… Calvin Bunker. Maggie Bunker. How does it feel to know you'll never see your son again because of your own hateful murderous actions? How does it feel to know he'll be raised in an environment far better than anything you can provide? I bet he won't even remember you in a few years." The onlookers appeared confused, but doing this was a necessary thing. How else would she draw them out? Especially Maggie. "If you're watching, then know this: Out of all the mistakes you've made in the past… coming into my home—near my daughter—will be your biggest and last. So, come at me. I will be the Black Steel that cuts you down!"

0-0

Lena Bella, someone not a native to Banshee, shot up from her position from the hotel bed. She watched the television with wide eyes as the news coverage played out. From the official statement from a sheriff to Alison dropping the mic, so to speak, she stared in mute horror. Her best friend had lost her ever-loving mind. What part of this broadcast had been keeping her head down? The last warning she had given her clearly had been thrown from the window. Alison seemed on a crash course now. This was definitely not what she had expected after been called to this state.

"Alison…" Lena's whispered voice shook. "What the fuck?"

0-0

Aimee King, Sheriff of the Kinaho Police Department, thoughtfully watched the news broadcast. True, the covered story should have meant nothing to her. Different districts and whatnot. However, she could not deny the woman's speech struck a chord within her. She, this Alison Medding, had made valid points. There could be no peace if men like that were allowed to roam. If they so blatantly showed up there, what would stop them from entering her territory? How could she protect her own from them with only three subordinates? The Amish, so close to them, had already suffered at the hands of monsters. As far as she was concerned, it was an us vs them type of situation. There was no denying the risk. She could not stand back and do nothing. A short sigh left her mouth, mind already coming to the only decision.

"Prepare the tribe," Aimee ordered. The three under her employ, who had also been watching, immediately stood to attention. "We're heading to Banshee."

"Yes, ma'am…!" Determined voices chorused.

0-0

Rebecca Bowman, with crossed arms, watched the streaming press conference on her laptop. Within the isolation of her office, she allowed her expression to scrunch in displeasure. She could not say this was an expected reaction. Truthfully, she had expected Alison to back down after the home invasion. However, there she stood, determined to go in the opposite direction of what had been expected of her. A short sigh left her mouth then. Perhaps she should have expected something akin to this display though. Alison Medding had been going against the grain since the thin line between child and adult. Fucking Nazis had always been her target. What else could she have done upon returning home to find them in droves? So, in the end, this should have been expected.

"But how is uncle going to react to this?" Rebecca muttered.

By giving such a rousing speech, Alison had undoubtedly made herself a target. Her uncle had a strange soft spot for the woman. He would go through lengths to keep her safe. But how far did those lengths stretch? And would it effect his business? This entire situation already effected his business. He had lost the majority of his workers thanks to Calvin Bunker's uprising. Now, there would be no getting them back. Rebecca scolded herself. She should not be thinking about her uncle's business right now. The focus should be on this. This provocation of Alison Medding. Rebecca recognized her tactic. Drawing the enemy to her—a funnel. Probably the same thing she had used before. Different time, different place—same problem. This time it was on a much grander scale. But still by herself essentially. If she stood a chance—if Banshee stood a chance—then they needed numbers to match.

Rebecca huffed lightly. She did not want to use her business like this, but it seemed she did not have a choice in the matter. Besides, she was still absolutely livid that these Nazis had invaded what was hers. She was not opposed to wiping them all out for their intolerable offense. And if this truly was allowed to happen, she would not stand still.

"Very well, Alison Medding," Rebecca said, reaching for her cell phone. "If it's war… it's war."

0-0

Calvin Bunker sharply turned away from the television, pissed beyond measure.

However, Maggie Bunker watched the press conference, grinning maliciously.

Finally, the time had come.

0-0

"Get the Sheriff on the phone!" Gordon Hopewell shouted as he nearly vaulted out of his seat. "Get him on the phone! I want him on the phone right now!"

0-0

"Yes," Kai Proctor confirmed. He refrained from sighing heavily into the phone. "It appears our mutual associate has become more trouble than he's worth. I will need you to come promptly to Banshee in order to put an end to his whims. I attempted to control the situation, but… the pieces on the board refuses to move properly. I fear what this escalation could mean for our ventures, you understand." He shut his eyes briefly, listening to the response on the other side. "Yes, upon his replacement we can proceed as normal. Thank you for your help in this matter." With a click, he disconnected the call. This time, he sighed heavily.

"Sir…?" Burton said, taking the phone away.

"Why must I continuously pick up after those who insist on acting like children? Why is it a vicious cycle for me?" Kai asked. Of course, Burton did not have a response for him. "You know, she didn't choose that name. Black Steel. It's something others called her in her youth when she rampaged in other towns. And now she uses it so blatantly. To spite me, I'm sure." He sighed. "Well, I suppose… I deserve this in the end."

0-0

It's bulkier than normal, I know, but we still haven't reached the end.

There is not much else to tell, so I'm thinking next chapter will be the last.

For realsies this time.

(I think)