Shit. She hadn't been hit for so long, she had forgotten what it felt like. It didn't exactly hurt, but she tasted blood in her mouth. Her body had gotten soft apparently. Still, she could get out of this. She had experienced worse odds. Alison sucked in a breath as her eyes met Bunker's. How could she have been so stupid? This was a trap, and she had fallen for it. Again, his words had affected her and she let her guard down. He had probably called or texted his buddies while she had been in the restroom. God, her mother would ring her neck if she knew what she had gotten into. Trusting a monster—even if it had been slight—had been a foolish notion.
Alison squeezed the mouth of her helmet in preparation for whichever one attacked first. It was Bunker. But she hadn't been his target. He had whipped around so fast and sharply punched the one that had smacked her. Her eyes widened, stunned by the other rapid punches dealt to the monster. Bunker so viciously attacked him. They both fell to the ground during the struggle. The other two were clearly shocked by the altercation. Like Hell if she was going to give them a chance to retaliate.
She rushed forward, lifting her right leg. The sole of her boot smashed into the unsuspecting monster's face. She both heard and felt the crunch of his nose. Her insides sang with pleasure as the bastard that had made suggestive comments towards her fell to the ground. "Hey!" The other yelled out, telling her that he was about to attack. Alison sharply turned, narrowing dodging a sloppy punch. She dodged his next two punches by stepping back twice and angling her body away from the strikes. Then she brought her knee to her chest before launching her foot out. It connected with his gut. Nothing but flesh with no muscle to protect himself with. As expected, he doubled over in pain. Alison dropped her foot, and then swung her arm upward. The top of her helmet struck the bottom of his chin, causing his head to spring back.
The third man crumbled to the ground, groaning obscenities. Alison stomped down on his chest, and then swiped her leg, nailing the piece of shit in the jaw. The groaning stopped because he couldn't take the pain. Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind. Her arms were pinned to her sides. Her helmet had fallen from her hand. "Feisty bitch!" Admittedly, he had gotten her, but his actions would easily be outmaneuvered. Her body still shivered in revulsion though. She reared her head back, hard and fast, into his already broken nose.
Alison took a large step forward, harshly twisting her upper body. This threw the idiot off balance and his grip further loosened. She brought her bended arm up, ramming her elbow into his face. His arms completely left her in favor of holding his profusely bleeding nose. A frown touched her face, but inwardly, she felt giddy. The adrenaline coursed through her like a narcotic. It had been such a long since she had felt something like this. Alison breathed in deeply through her nose, and then delivered a powerful roundhouse kick that knocked him down and unconscious.
"Amateurs," she thought, looking back and forth between the two unconscious monsters. The monsters she had tangled with before had been a bigger challenge. These bastards were probably just pretending with no real affiliation. That was actually a good thing. She did not want to hear about this later on once she returned home.
Her heart raced within her chest as she finally looked back over to Bunker. The man was still beating the crap out of the supposed ringleader. The monster underneath him had long since given up the fight. He lay there motionless, receiving the hard punches to the face. Alison stared, still feeling a bit stunned. Mostly guilty. She had felt betrayed and had immediately thought of him as a monster in her panicked state. That had been wrong of her. He hadn't known them. He had actually… lashed out after she had been hit. A slight smirk tugged at her lips as she continued to watch Bunker pummel away. Was he growling? A part of her thought it was weird. Another part reveled in hearing and seeing his actions. Wasn't that wrong—to feel approval for what she was witnessing?
Still… Nice.
But if he kept on doing that, the monster would die. Death didn't need to be a result of their foolishness. However evil their actions would have been. "Bunker…!" Alison called out to him. His punches did not cease. "Bunker!" A little less calm, she quickly moved to his side and pulled at his shoulder. Her touch managed to do the trick because he let himself be pulled away from the bloodied mess. His breathing was shallowed and jerky. He refused to look away from what he had done. Then Bunker visibly shook before storming off.
Alison watched him go, taken aback by his expression. He had been angry. Way too angry. She hadn't known him long, but that did not feel right at all. Normally, the man was composed and patient. Anger had radiated off him. She could practically feel his rage herself. She swallowed hard as Bunker got into a pick-up truck. It probably wasn't a good idea for him to leave right now. Moving as quickly as she could, Alison headed into the diner. "Call the police!" she ordered a bewildered looking Mrs. Jenkins. The older woman had probably heard and seen some of what went down.
"What the heck happ-"
"The police, Mrs. Jenkins—call them now!" Thinking she had no time, Alison rushed back out. With her eyes focused on the pick-up truck, she almost let out of sigh of relief. Bunker hadn't left yet. He was still sitting in his vehicle. She pressed her lips into a thin line before moving again. She walked past the three bodies towards the truck. She had caught a glimpse of the one Bunker went ham on. And even Jesus wouldn't recognize him. Without really thinking about it, she went over to the passenger side and opened the door. "Bunker."
He didn't acknowledge her. He merely continued to grip the steering wheel like it was something he needed to do. She noticed the way his body trembled as though trying to reel the anger back in. A defense mechanism…? His emotions had gotten out of control. Was this the only way for him to come back from it? He held on so tightly that the material of the steering wheel whined in protest. Drawing in a long silent breath, Alison climbed into the truck and closed the door. She sat there listening to his strained breathing for a few moments before opening her mouth.
"That was excessive," she remarked, turning her eyes to the windshield instead of him. "The police are on their way, but I think I can still call it self-defense." She stopped hearing his breaths. Maybe he had calmed down enough. Or maybe he had just realized she was sitting beside him. Not close. She was pressed against the door, so there was quite a lot of distance between them in the truck. "Did you forget you were a cop?"
"I'm sorry," he muttered. His voice had barely been audible. Alison scoffed, glancing his way. He had stopped painfully squeezing the steering wheel, but he did keep his hands on it. She looked back outside. From here, she could see inside the brightly lit diner. Huh. Ignoring it for now, she shut her eyes for a moment.
"I didn't ask for an apology," she replied. "What you did was… valid, and I appreciate it." It hadn't been a lie. She gained a bit more respect for him because of what he had done, especially since she had misjudged his intentions. "Guys like that deserves to be beaten occasionally, but you have to remember your profes-"
"I am guys like that!" Bunker shouted, glaring at her. In the compact space of his truck, the shout seemed louder than it actually was. Alison knew that, but her body still recoiled. She pressed herself harder against the door, instincts of flight or fight coming on fast. She swallowed hard, willing herself to calm down. Her body did not relax, though. She just continued to stare back at him, teeth clenched. Eventually, his eyes softened, seemingly noticing what effect his shout had garnered. However, his expression did not change. "Every evil, twisted thought they have had… I have had." He turned away from her, so he did not see her face screw into horrified realization. "Every fucked up thing he has done, I have done."
That's right. He looked like a monster. He had behaved like a monster—most likely for more than a decade. All that doesn't just go away just because he suddenly chose to regret it. Bunker might not be evil, but he had done evil shit. She couldn't forget that. Never. Then a terrible thought occurred. "Every?!" Alison fiercely repeated. Bunker turned to her, brow furrowed. Then his eyes grew wide, equally horrified.
"No!" he exclaimed. She sucked in a breath, hoping her heart would calm down. She did not care for the stray tear that left his eye. No. No. She should not be this close to him. Never again. Never again. Never again. "Please! I did not ever do that…" His voice had become muffled to her ears. The chant and her heartbeat nearly drowned out his words. "DA Medding… Not that. Never that."
"I don't believe you!" Alison spat. He flinched, but she did not feel guilt. But she did notice the tremors had stopped. Apparently, they had transferred to her. She couldn't stop the shakes, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from him either. Even the slightest movement on his part would make her instincts completely overwhelm her. For several moments, they remained quiet.
"If… If that were true," Bunker hesitantly began. "You wouldn't still be here."
"Fuck you." Her hissed out words caused him to flinch again. Damn him, though. He was right. On some level, she believed him. She trusted him enough to be near. Alison realized this, but she didn't very well like it. When had an inkling of trust turned into sharing a seat with him? Sharing dinner with him? Bunker became quiet, allowing her time to get herself together. She didn't know how long they stayed silent, but it was enough to have her body become mildly relaxed.
"I know I will always be… a monster," Bunker started. "Putting on that uniform every day will not wipe my slate clean. I have done things that would make you sick—that make me sick—but that type of evil, I wouldn't inflict on anyone." Alison bit her lower lip and exhaled shakily through her nose. "I am doing everything I can to change. I want to prove that I can be a better person. Every once in a while, I manage to convince myself, but the minute I come into contact with one of them—those fucking bastards—and see the way that look at me-" His voice shook with repressed emotions. Tears slipped out of his eyes more freely now, but he did not wipe them away nor did he shift his gaze. She watched them fall, suppressing her own inner turmoil. "-all I feel is… hate. And anger. And I can't shake it."
Bunker had begun shaking again. His breaths came out in shudders. Alison could see that he was quickly losing himself in whatever self-loathing memory his mind had conjured up. He turned away from her, hands tightly holding the steering wheel again. For the second time, she had the urge to reach for his hand. Now she knew why. She saw herself in him. This state he was in now—it was how she used to be. She had wanted to comfort him because she had to comfort herself.
"Bunker, that's not hate you're feeling," Alison began. "You're ashamed." He still didn't look at her, but his grip on the wheel lessened. "You're feeling that way because you feel guilty about what you've done. When you see guys like that, it's a reminder of your shame. It's a reminder of your failure. It's a reminder of the power you've lost." He finally took his hands from the wheel to wipe at his eyes. "I can see through you now. You're not a monster… but you're not a man either." Bunker paused for a second, and then looked at her, eyes questioning. "You're weak," she told him. "You let the mere sight of seeing one of them control you. Your power is lost. Until you get it back, you'll always be this cross between the man and the monster. And they will always control you."
"My power…?" he murmured. "My illusion?"
"Power of will. Power of self," Alison corrected. "I lost my power… the night I lost my innocence. I was a… husk, and then I wasn't. But I spent years thinking I could get the power back from the monsters who stole from me." Flashes of violent fury passed through her mind. She shook her head to rid herself of them. "I spent years letting that anger and hatred consume me. I wasn't… me until I took back my power." She held his gaze as lifted her right leg and turned to face him. "If I can take back my power, I'm sure you can, too. Become who you truly are instead of a fusion between monster and man."
"Why… Why are you telling me this?" Bunker asked. Alison bit her lower lip, turning her eyes away for a moment. Honestly, she wasn't ready to tell him that. She was barely able to admit it to herself. Despite their circumstances, an unlikely bond had formed, maybe even before this point. Whenever it had formed, it was a marvel—one she wasn't so willing to part with now. Jesus Christ…! If her parents could see her now…
"You are a Deputy. I am the District Attorney. I can't have an officer of the law self-destructing. We're on the same side, right?" It had been a half-truth. Something to appease his curiosity for now. He didn't need to know the whole truth. Bunker slowly nodded his head, and then breathed in through his nose. He must have calmed down fully. Good thing, too. Her eyes had just caught the red and blue lights of a police cruiser out the back window. "Now dry your tears before the police think I beat your ass, too."
She had said it in an offhand way, so it came as quite the shock when laughter burst from his mouth. He looked at her with his eyes crinkled and a lingering smile. It was as though all the tension had left his body. It was bizarre to be witnessing a person you didn't know smile for the first time. Smile genuinely for the first time like they hadn't smiled in years. Tickles of hot and cold flowed over her skin. It was that same prickly feeling she had before at the CADI, but more… potent.
Once again, her response to the unknown feeling was silence. She turned in her seat again, facing the right way. She bit her lip, fingers reaching for the door handle. The police had made it to the parking lot by now and she needed to quickly come up with something that would smooth all this over. "Thank you, DA Medding," Bunker said to her as she opened the door. Alison offered a nod, but no more words. For some reason, her mouth wouldn't open. She stepped out of his vehicle, mentally preparing herself to speak with the authorities. Her eyes glanced at the crumbled bodies. Maybe she should have told Mrs. Jenkins to dial for an ambulance… Anyhow, the police were here. It was time to work. Even so, a foreign smile nestled in her brain and remained.
"What a dorky-ass grin," Alison commented in thought as she waved to the officers.
0-0
He kept looking at his hands. The kid, no older than nineteen, stared unapologetic between his hands and his face. It was understandable. Kurt's knuckles were still bloodied and his ink was eye catching. He could only imagine what was going through the head of the clerk. "So, like…" The boy finally stopped chewing. For a second. "If you chop somebody up in the room, could you make it a bit less messy? Like, use the tub or something? My dad makes me clean instead of hiring housekeeping." Kurt grimaced. He understood what his appearance may look like to strangers, but that response had been a little more morbid than what he was used to. And indifferent.
"I understand my physical appearance may be-"
"Yeah, don't care—just use the tub." He slid the keys across the counter. Kurt had to grab the keys before they fell over. "The room is the last one. Please return the keys to the front desk before you leave. Have a nice night." He finished by popping the blue gum. Forcing the scowl from forming, Kurt thought about reassuring the kid that he wasn't going to be chopping anyone up, but thought better of it. Alison was still waiting out in the truck. So, sighing, he turned away from the counter and headed out the door.
They were stuck in this little town, almost an hour away from Banshee. The reason for their continued excursion had to do with the officers that had arrived on scene. Alison had done her best to quell their concerns about what had happened. Her story would have worked had it not been for them seeing what Kurt had done. The minute they had seen the leader of the trio—and then him—the officers had wanted to bring them in for questioning. The only reason they had not been brought in immediately had been because of the old woman. She had seen everything. Plus, apparently the bastards liked to cause trouble for Mrs. Jenkins every once in a while. They had decided to do so because the woman had hired a chef who had been of Asian descent. And according to Alison, she had dated a few Black Panthers back in the day and everyone in the town knew about it because the old woman bragged. So the officers had allowed them to go with a promise to come down to the department in the morning.
Alison had argued that she did not intend to drive back to Banshee just to come back a few hours later. That had been when one of the officers, the younger one, told them they could stay at the only inn in town, which happened to be close to the police station. She, probably exhausted, just resigned herself to staying. The officers had given directions before leaving them. It had been a silent moment once they were alone. Alison did not have enough money to buy a room. She hadn't needed to ask, though. Of course, Kurt offered to pay for it. Part of his thanks, he had told her. Secretly, he had been relieved. He hadn't needed to come up with an excuse anymore.
Kurt approached the passenger side of his truck, holding up the set of keys. Alison acknowledged his purchase with a nod before opening the door. At the diner, he had hauled her motorcycle on the back of his truck. It laid flat on its side. She had grimaced and whispered for him to be careful. He hadn't blamed her. Her bike was a beauty, but he did not have anything to keep the motorcycle in an upright position, so he had no choice but to lay it on its side. Alison had kept a hold of her helmet, but she had left the truck without it now that he had confirmed their room.
The truck door slammed shut, echoing in the silent night. Kurt cleared his throat just as Alison reached him. "There are two beds," he told her. He saw her bite her lower lip. She was probably nervous about sharing a room with him. Of course she was. With what she had been through… and him looking like… like a monster… There was no doubt. Obviously she would be uncomfortable with the arrangements. However, he didn't have the funds to buy two separate rooms. He hadn't even received his first paycheck yet. Maybe they should have discussed it on the drive over, but to be honest, his mind had been blown learning about Mrs. Jenkins and the few Panthers she dated. Kurt swallowed, pursing his lips. "I can… sleep in my truck if-"
"Don't be stupid," Alison cut in, taking the keys from his hand. Her eyes examined the tag, and then she started walking. He followed behind her, watching the way she walked. Strong. Confident. He hadn't noticed before, didn't really pay attention. He couldn't help but notice it now. She didn't look like a woman that had her innocence taken at the age of sixteen. She had truly gotten back her power. Kurt could see himself admiring this woman. No. He already did.
Alison found the door. Like the apathetic worker had said, it was the last room. Quickly, the lock was disengaged and the red door opened. Kurt made a face, practically tasting the stale air of the room. Seemingly not minding, the District Attorney walked in. It wasn't until she found the light and turned it on did he step inside as well. He did not want to make her more uncomfortable than she already was by standing near her in the dark.
Kurt watched her as she set the keys down on the dresser. She then went over to the bed furthest from the door and sat. Alison didn't bother to address him again whilst she lowered her torso to remove her boots. Realizing that his staring might be considered creepy, he averted his gaze to the bed closest to the door. She had apparently claimed her bed already, so he supposed he should do the same. He sat down, noting the air conditioning unit was turned off. He fiddled with the controls until it kicked on.
By the time musty air blew in his face, he heard a door shut. Kurt looked back to where Alison had been to discover her gone. He only glanced at white door before deciding it lead to the bathroom. He would give her the privacy she needed. In the meantime, he looked around the room. Simple in design with matching red bedspreads—floral print with blue, gold, green, and purple stitching. It almost hurt to look at. Kurt sighed through his nose. There wasn't a television in the room, so distracting entertainment was off the list. He doubted either of them would really want to watch anything at this hour anyway.
Kurt went over to the wooden nightstand that was in between the two beds. It had a lamp on it, along with a phone, a notepad, an alarm clock with glowing red number, and a pen. He opened the top drawer to find a large black bible. The second drawer had nothing in it. Unimpressed—though he had slept in worst inns than this—he flipped the switch on the lamp, providing more light. Even though they would both be heading to bed soon. Releasing another sigh, he sat down on his bed. He didn't realize how tired he was until his body had relaxed. That's when he heard the creak of the bathroom door as it opened. Lifting his head, he saw Alison walk out without turning off the light. In her hand, she held a small white towel as well as a first aid kit. She walked over to him, stretching her arms. "Th-Thank you." Kurt took the items, noting the towel was damp as he set down the first aid box beside him.
"No problem," Alison muttered as she sat opposite of him on her bed. With a slight grunt, she removed her jacket, revealing the thin straps of her shirt as well as the dark blue straps of her bra. Kurt immediately averted his gaze and focused on wiping the blood from his hand. "Don't overdo it, Bunker. It won't heal properly like that." He stopped, hesitantly meeting her gaze. "The way you went at him, there's no way his teeth didn't get you. Slow down."
"Yeah," Kurt said, and then started wiping again more gently than before. He gestured to her with his head. "Are you okay?" She blinked, and then lightly pressed a finger to her split lip. Alison nodded slowly, telling him that she had had worse. How much worse? But he didn't ask. The altercation hadn't shook her and she even took out two grown men whilst he had been distracted by just the one. "How did you manage to incapacitate two men?" he questioned instead.
"My mom," she answered, though her voice had been grim. She stared down at her lap for a moment. "Took some self-defense classes, too… But mostly, I watch too many actions movies." Not expecting that last bit, Kurt chuckled lightly. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Bunker." She tried to look annoyed, but there was a lightness to her expression that had replaced her grim tone. It seemed like she had become almost completely at ease. Compared to the way she had been in the diner, her behavior now was startling. But he couldn't say he didn't like it. Alison had made him laugh twice now. It felt strange to hear and feel his own laughter after so long. A deep rumble in his chest that spread through his body—a real laugh. "Do you know how to wrap that?"
Kurt looked down at his mostly clean hand. She had been right. The fucker's teeth had sliced into his skin in several places. He flexed his fingers and frowned. It wasn't painful, but it stung every time he moved his fingers. "Worth it," he thought, narrowing his eyes. He tossed the damp towel on the nightstand, and then began fiddling with the first aid kit. Alison stood from her bed, drawing his gaze back to her. She took the first aid kit, and then sat down beside him. Kurt could only look at her, stunned into silence.
"I know how to wrap," she explained, focusing on removing ointment and gauze from the first aid. She set the kit down beside her, and then shifted her body towards his. Their knees almost brushed against each other. Christ…! They had gone from sitting across from each other to sitting beside one another, and now they were nearly shoulder to shoulder. Kurt could not understand how the distance between them had decreased in such little time. He wished he knew what was going on in the District Attorney's head, but he was not going to comment aloud.
Alison tentatively reached for his hand. He noticed the way her fingers curled, though, as if she had second thoughts about touching him. Still, she lightly took his injured hand and began applying the ointment. Kurt's eye twitched, holding back a wince. Her fingertips were gentle, but the ointment was cold. Well, that's what he would tell her if he couldn't hide the grimace. "Something else you got from movies?" he asked. He understood the lightness of his voice. He was teasing her, this time intentionally. Alison glanced at him, eyes holding mock annoyance.
"Trial and error, actually," she corrected, returning to her task. After a few more coats of ointment, she started to wrap his hand. "Hospitals would have asked questions." She was teasing him back, he realized. But… It was ominous. He had heard those same words when he had been recovering from the worst beating of his life. Had Alison gone through the same? The way she had said it, too… Trial and error. It had happened multiple times for her to learn how to wrap properly.
"What happened to you?" Kurt asked. She ceased all movement. If he didn't know any better, he would assume that she had stopped breathing, too. "DA Medding…?" She flinched, and then stood up. Not knowing what else to do or say, he merely watched her. It had been a personal question. He probably should not have asked her. Alison took in a shaky breath before moving to sit on her bed across from him. Her fingers gripped her knees, gaze focused on the floor.
"After… I wasn't spared, I stayed in my room," she began. Her teeth grazed her lower lip, and then her eyes slowly met his. "I wouldn't talk. Didn't eat. Screamed a lot in my sleep. I stopped going to school. Wouldn't let my friends console me. The officers investigating said I got off easy. Said that I could have ended up like my father. Their careless comments made it worse." Alison inhaled slowly, shutting her eyes for a moment. "Basically, I stopped being a person. Stopped being me. It went on like that for—I want to say—four weeks." She bit her lip again before continuing. "Then one day… my mother practically dragged me out of my room. She forced me in the car and just drove." Her brow furrowed as he eyes became distant. "I don't remember where she took me. It was the middle of nowhere, I know that. This wide open field, miles from the road. I remember walking so far away from the car…"
Her brown eyes glazed over completely. She had become lost in her own memories. Strange. She hadn't become so disconnected while talking about the aftermath of her assault. It was as if those memories didn't matter anymore. Or… whatever she was about to say paled in comparison. Kurt shifted, subconsciously moving forward. His movements seemed to jerk her out of her thoughts because she blinked, and then focused on him again. "Did she say anything to you?" he asked. Alison squeezed her eyes shut before answering.
"Not on the car ride over. And not during the long walk either," she stated. "No… My mother stayed silent through it all. Once we stopped walking, though… She said 'Never again.' Just that. Then she punched me. Really hard. Over and over and over again." Not expecting that at all, Kurt stared, feeling the shock over all. Alison didn't seem to notice his reaction. "I had no idea my mother was so strong. No idea she could break my body like she did. She didn't stop until all I felt was pain. Confusion. Fear. Betrayal. Yeah, I felt those, but pain is a hell of a replacement because I didn't feel anything else after a while."
Kurt couldn't imagine. Even when he had been beaten so severely, he still felt other things besides the pain. As immense as it was, there had been anger and fear, too. Anger at the ones who had left him to die. Fear of dying. Even a sliver of hope that it would all end just to stop the hurt. But the way Alison spoke, she had been numb to everything but the pain. "Christ…" he muttered out loud. Just how long had the beating gone on for?
"You think that's bad?" she asked, frowning. "My mother wouldn't let me fall unconscious. She had a handheld Taser. Every time my body tried to save me from the pain, she would use it to bring me back to the beating she inflicted." Her gaze lowered again. "Five times a month, she would take me back to that place. Just as my body was beginning to heal, she would take me there and do it all over again."
"Why? Why would she do that to you?" Kurt questioned, still reeling from what she had told him. His childhood had been far from original. He knew that other children suffered abuse from their own parents, but this was different. And yet just the same.
"To break me," Alison replied, looking back at him. "I was a husk, Bunker. She saw that and broke me in order to fix me." His skepticism must have shown on his face because she shook her head and continued talking. "I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't child abuse. My mother loved me so much that she refused to let me go through life a victim. It worked. Eventually, I fought back. I stopped behaving like a punching bag—a victim—and I fought back. That is when she said it again after all that time. Never again. And I realized what she meant. Never again will I be a victim. Never again will I watch the people I love bleeding and helpless. Never again will I be broken."
It was… a lot to take in admittedly. Wisdom comes only through suffering, he remembered. Alison Medding had gone through a lot of suffering, it seemed. Maybe more so than himself. And at the hands of her mother. His dad never actually broke him. The abuse was just abuse. There had been no other purpose behind the strikes. His dad certainly hadn't done it to fix him. Before Kurt had thought of himself as his dad's personal punching bag, Tank had stepped in. He had thought of himself as a protector, really. Calvin had been young and vulnerable, and as the older brother, Kurt had to take the beatings to save his little brother. A shield. Not a punching bag.
Alison let out a long sigh, which drew his attention back to her. "After that day, she began teaching me out to fight," she continued. "Well, to be honest, just how to inflict as much pain as possible to the human body. The self-defense classes while I was away at college actually taught me. Refined the skills, I guess."
"… And the action movies," Kurt remarked. He was more than a little relieved—and amazed—that she smiled. A real smile that showed her teeth and crinkled her eyes. Christ… A smile hadn't been directed his way in so many years. He had forgotten what it was like. He wanted it again. He wanted to see her smile again. "Can't forget about the most important part." This time, she chuckled in response, squeezing her eyes shut.
"Yeah, definitely the movies—big part of it," she replied. Her smile lingered and Kurt found his lips twitching again. Alison shifted her gaze from him to the alarm clock. He, too, looked at the numbers. It was a little after two in the morning. He had spent nearly eight hours with Alison. He hadn't noticed at all. "We should sleep." He nodded his head in agreement, and then stood up. Kurt went over to the lip switch, and then looked back at Alison. She had stood as well and had the first aid kit in her hands. "Don't turn off the lamp's light," she told him as she made her way back to the bathroom.
Kurt absentmindedly nodded his head as he flipped the switch. He, himself, preferred to sleep with all the lights off. He also preferred to sleep in his underwear, but he doubted it would be appreciated if he were to strip down. Still, the remaining light was dim enough to the point that he could fall asleep. He sat back down on his bed, and then took off his shoes, noting the good job Alison had done with the bandages. Just as he was getting comfortable on the ugly bedspread, Alison came back out. "Do you mind if the AC stays on?" he asked as she walked over to her bed. She shook her head, pulling at the bedspread, and then nestling in her bed. She laid, facing away from him. Kurt suppressed the feeling of slight discontent before turning his eyes to the white ceiling. Letting out a sigh, he closed his eyes. "It's almost over," he told himself. Yet he still did not have a plausible excuse to see her again.
Once they went back to Banshee, he doubted Alison would keep in contact with him. Kurt had already saved her name in his phone. She, more than likely, had not done the same. So… They would be strangers again. Even if they were pass each other in town, she probably wouldn't look his way anyway. No. It was best to be glad he had the chance to do this—interact intimately with another person—and then move on, occasionally recalling the memory as a good thing. He didn't have too many good memories, after all.
"Hey, Bunker…?" Alison called out to him, causing him to open his eyes. He turned his head her way, only to see she hadn't moved. She still faced away from, the bedspread covering most of her body. Kurt cleared his throat and replied, letting her know that he was still awake and listening. "What was her name?" Mouth suddenly feeling dry, he parted his lips. He felt his entire body turn rigid.
"Who?" he asked even though he knew who Alison had been referring to. Big, trusting hazel eyes went through his head. Her braided hair with green and white beads. Her being in whatever dress she could find because she stubbornly didn't wear pants if she could help it. Her bright laughter. Her wide grin whenever she called him Captain. Her bratty pout whenever he had to leave. Her adorable sleeping face. Christ… Kurt hadn't said her name out loud since the last time he had seen her. Hadn't thought about it either. He hadn't—didn't—deserve to speak her name.
"The girl—the seven-year-old," Alison went on, not knowing the churning of his emotions. "You never mentioned the daughter's name." The dryness of his mouth extended to his throat. He could not speak. It felt like he couldn't breathe. "Bunker…?" Kurt heard her shift, but he turned his head away before she could see the tears that had gathered in his eyes.
"Naomi," he croaked in answer. His voice had cracked. He heard a small noise come from Alison, but he did not face her again. In fact, he turned his body so that only his back would be visible. Kurt shut his eyes, feeling the liquid slid down the side of his face. "Her name was Naomi." More shifting from Alison could be hear even over the thundering of his heart.
"Are you… Are you alright?" she whispered, voice soft and tentative.
"No," he responded honestly, just as quiet. It was the guilt bubbling up within him, gnawing at his insides. Nothing he could do would ever change the fact that she was gone. Naomi had died and he had been at fault. No matter how much good he did, it wouldn't make up for what he had caused. But wallowing in self-pity would not honor her memory. So Kurt clenched his teeth and used his sleeve to wipe the tears away. "But I will be with time."
"It might not mean much to you, but I am sorry you went through that type of loss to get to where you are now."
"… Thank you." He wasn't used to hearing apologies. It was strange. This whole excursion with Alison had been strange for him. "Same you to. I'm sorry for what happened with your mom." She had lost something great as well. For a full minute, only silence had been her response. Kurt turned to face her to see that she had been staring. With her eyebrows furrowed, she held a look of scrutiny. Maybe he should not have given condolences. She probably didn't view it as a loss. But then she breathed in and dropped her gaze.
"Thanks," she muttered. Then she laid her head down and shut her eyes. "Goodnight, Bunker." Kurt pressed his lips together as he watched her. She… was completely relaxed even with him in the room. Alison trusted him enough to fall asleep. It felt good to be trusted. Especially by her. Smiling a bit, he returned to lying on his back instead of his side.
"Goodnight, DA Medding."
As Kurt shut his eyes, he couldn't help but think…
Maybe this is what catharsis felt like.
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