Alison jerked awake. Her body remained tense as the surroundings were taken in. She breathed out once she recognized and remembered where she was. Waking up in a new place had nearly always caused her body to wake up in an edgy manner. She sat up slowly, pushing the covers from her body. Rubbing at her face, she groaned out loud. The morning sun had seemed to come too early. Hadn't she just gotten to sleep? A glance at the clock told her she had apparently gotten about six hours of sleep. Obviously not enough, but she crawled out of bed anyway.
Another groan let her mouth as she stretched, raising her arms up, and then reaching for her legs. She continued stretching as her gaze found its way to the other bed. Its occupant laid there, still sleeping. She had remembered his presence, but unlike before, it had not caused her… apprehension. Her body did not react with fear or revulsion anymore. Maybe it had to do with him crying? He had broken down in front of her and showed her his tears. Alison bit her lip and turned her eyes away from the sleeping man.
A good man isn't afraid to show his tears, she recited in thought. It showed that he had heart. Showed he had regrets. Showed that he was sincere. Her father had been a good man. Loved both her and her mother with everything he had. Even if he hadn't know the secret both mother and daughter shared. The secret that had influenced half of her teenaged years. "It wasn't a loss," Alison told herself before heading to the bathroom. She had become better than she had been. She was now a better person. It had taken some time to become herself again, but what happened had been worth it. "It wasn't a loss."
She flipped the light switch and waited until the light stopped flickering before focusing on her reflection. Lovely bedhead with smudged eyeliner. Not to mention the dry blood at the corner of her lip. Wonderful. There was a convenience store just across the street. Hopefully, they had what she needed. Like a brush and hair ties. And body wash. Well, maybe not body wash. She glanced outside the bathroom. She may not be apprehensive of his presence anymore, but that didn't mean she would be comfortable taking a shower with him nearby. Best thing to do would be to wash her face, at least. She could wait for a shower once she returned home.
For now, she would take care of the blood. Alison turned on the faucet, letting the water heat up a bit before cupping her hand. She leaned forward, putting her face near the running water. She splashed the warm liquid against her mouth and rubbed her fingers against the cut. Wincing, she moved her tongue against it. It would heal. And it was barely visible. No one would bother looking. Gordon would. He'd notice. She would just have to tell him that Lena had done it. He would believe that.
Alison huffed, and then slid her hands through her hair. She should, at least, try to tame the bedhead before attempting to go out in public. After a few minutes, her hair looked a bit more presentable, and so she turned the water off, and then moved away from the mirror. Deciding to keep on the light, she walked out of the bathroom in search of her socks. They had slipped off while she slept. She pulled the covers completely off the bed. Two white socks fell, causing a smile of triumph to appear on her face. Despite the noise, Bunker still hadn't woken up. "Someone's a deep sleeper," she remarked as she slipped on her socks.
After putting on her boots and finding her jacket, Alison headed for the door, grabbing the keys from the dresser on the way out. She let the door shut by itself, hearing the lock click into place. As she walked across the street, she put on her jacket. It was cool early in the morning, so her arms had already formed chill bumps. Her jacket was light, but provided some heat. Making it to the store, she read the store hours before pulling the door open. There was a chime of a bell as she entered, eyes immediately darting for an aisle with essentials.
Finding it, she sighed in relief. She immediately went to work finding what she was looking for. There was no brushes, but she did find plastic combs. She also found facial wipes. Lucky finds. No hair ties, though. The comb would have to do. "Jesus Christ… I don't remember the last time I had a relaxer," Alison thought, frowning. She studied the bright blue comb, wishing it was made of something stronger instead. It looked sturdy enough. Maybe it wouldn't break. She would only use it for today, after all.
Deciding on her purchase, Alison moved toward the front counter. Apparently, there had been a cashier, but the girl—looked like a teen—hadn't greeted her. The girl was sitting down, too busy on her phone for the outside world. Wonderful. Suppressing an eye roll, the District Attorney shifted her attention elsewhere. There were pots of coffee—some brewing and some already made. Alison tucked the comb and facial wipes under her arm and grabbed a foam cup. And then another. She poured regular for both cups, placed lips on them, and then took them to the counter. The teen still wasn't paying attention.
The eye roll could not be contained anymore. Alison set the cups down, and then left the counter. She came back with two packaged honey buns. She set all of the items down on the counter. Still, the teen—probably seventeen—did not look away from her phone. Finally, Alison loudly cleared her throat. Green eyes glanced at her. "Good morning," the girl greeted. Her fingers moved across her cell phone in a more hurried manner. Then she set the phone down and gave her full attention. "Did you find everything you needed, ma'am?"
Trying not to scowl, Alison nodded her head. She would take semi-polite over nothing at all, she supposed. The girl rang up the items that she could, and then input the two drinks. "Is there a charge for creamers and sugar?" she asked. The girl shook her head, and then told her the total. "Got it." Alison reached into her back pocket. Thank God the twenty dollar bill was still there because she hadn't bothered to check before leaving the room.
"Um… You don't look like you're from around here," the girl began. She looked her up and down. Alison really hoped she would not get a headache from this ensuing conversation.
"No, I'm just passing through," she replied, handing over the money.
"Okay. I mean, I think I should warn you," she continued. "My friend, he works over at the inn. He said a serial killer checked in!" An eyebrow jumped, not expecting to hear that. "Yeah, real late last night, this guy comes in covered in blood and tattoos. He looked… real bad according to Justin. He said this guy was one of them Nazis!" Alison pressed her lips together to keep from smirking. Bunker. Of course. "Justin said he had an axe and everything! Said he was gonna chop up somebody!" It was getting harder to control her mouth. "I know that they usually go for minorities, so I had to warn you." She handed her the change, wide-eyed, but conspiring. "You came out of the inn, right?"
"Yeah, I did, but I'm leaving soon. Thanks for the warning," Alison replied. The girl nodded, and then began bagging the items. "I'll just grab the creamer and sugar on my way out, if you don't mind."
"Sure." The girl gave her the bag. "Just be safe, okay?" She smiled, but it was a professional smile. Alison used that same one on clients. "Have a nice day." Returning the smile, Alison nodded, and then headed back to the coffee station. She stuck handfuls of creamer and sugar in the bag. A variety of creamers because she did not know which kinds to choose. After that was finished, she headed back to the counter to grab the two cups.
"Have a nice day." She pushed the door open with her back because she held the coffee in both hands. As she walked, she wondered how she was going to get in the door with her hands full. Having hot liquid spilled on her was not her idea of a fun time. "Hope Bunker's up." Then she let a giggle slip because she imagined him bloody, wielding an axe like the serial killer he was. Another giggle bubbled up, realizing she should have been terrified of the image. She wasn't. It was weird. Hadn't been more than twenty-four hours, and yet she was laughing at the thought of Kurt Bunker. Neo-Nazi. Former Neo-Nazi.
Her parents must be rolling in their graves.
Upon reaching the door, Alison held one of the cups between her arm and chest. This allowed her to fish the keys from her pocket. It took a bit more maneuvering, but she managed to unlock the door and push it open. She entered the room with a sigh and immediately set the cups down on the dresser. Then the bag. Brown eyes looked at the first bed. Bunker was still asleep. Shouldn't cops be a little more alert? She sighed though her nose, and then turned on her back on the sleeping Deputy. After rummaging a bit, she pulled the comb and facial wipes from the bag, and then headed towards the bathroom.
After about ten minutes in the bathroom, Alison was finished. Her hair much more tolerable to look at. The comb hadn't broken either. Her face felt refreshed, which was something considering where she had slept. Satisfied, she walked back out, eyes immediately looking to Bunker again. Still passed out. This man slept like the dead. "Hey, Bunker…!" she called as she moved over the where she had left the drinks. Alison received no response as she chose a cup. She took a sip from the small opening of the lid, and then faced his bed. "Bunker!" She tried again, and still no response.
Giving no more warnings, her foot lashed out and kicked the end of the bed. The man jolted and hurriedly sat up, searching the room with squinty eyes. Alison barely repressed the smirk while she waited for him to calm down. He finally rubbed at his face and let out a groan. "What time is it?" His voice, muffled from his hands and sleep, probably hadn't been directed at her. Because when she had answered him, he sharply removed his hands from his face and stared wide-eyed at her.
"Good morning," she greeted. It took him a moment, but he acknowledged the greeting with a nod. "Got you some breakfast." Alison gestured behind her. "Coffee and a treat," she stated as she walked over to her own bed. His eyes followed her movements even as she sat down. "There's sugar and creamers, too, so help yourself." Bunker cleared his throat, and then moved his legs from the bed.
"Thank you," he said. It came as a bit of surprise that her body did not tense up as he moved from the bed. He stood over her, but Alison didn't feel the need to become defensive. Well, he had been nothing but polite to her. And he had shared some pretty personal things. That was a bit of an assumption, though. He might be the type to tell anyone that would bother to listen. More than likely, she wasn't the only one to know those things about him. She ignored the ripples of disappointment as Bunker crossed the room, heading towards the bathroom.
He shut the door. Alison distracted herself by taking another sip of coffee. She then set down her cup on the nightstand and reached into her jacket pocket for her phone. There were a few missed calls. One voicemail, too. She reached for her cup again as she cued up her voicemail app. She rolled her eyes as she listened to the message. The Assistant District Attorney had left her the message, basically saying he couldn't wait for her to come back because he was a goddamn pushover and was overwhelmed with paperwork. That meant she was going to be buried in paperwork once she returned.
Feeling a scowl form, Alison slipped her phone back into her jacket pocket. Wonderful. She sipped at her coffee, already calculating how much paper she would have to sort through. She would drag Gordon into just because if she could. While she thought about ways she could guilt trip the Mayor, Bunker came out of the bathroom. Her eyes immediately followed his form as soon as he walked by. He stood in front of the dresser, back to her, and rummaged through the bag of creamers and sugar. She stared hard at the visible tattoo on his neck. More ink that made him look like a monster. He must have felt her eyes because he suddenly went rigid. His head turned a bit, but he didn't face her.
"How's the hand?" Alison asked, breaking the silence. Hearing him tell her that he could feel her looking again did not seem appealing right now. Even so, she kept her gaze on his back as he poured creamer in his cup. She took larger sips of her coffee, waiting for his reply. Bunker cleared his throat.
"It's good," he answered. "Thank you, again." Alison shrugged, though he couldn't see, and turned her gaze to the alarm clock. It was a bit after eight now. She wondered how early the police station opened. With everything that had happened last night, she hadn't thought to ask. Bunker, finished mixing his coffee, sat on his bed opposite of her. He held out a packaged honey bun. There had been no hesitation on her part to take the sweet from him. She didn't bat an eyelash even though she felt their fingers brush. Bunker, though, visibly stiffened as though she might lash out at him for his insolence. Alison hid the smirk by drinking more of her coffee and pretended not to notice. "So…" he began after a moment's pause. He cleared his throat. "When did you want to head out?"
"Whenever you did, I guess," Alison answered with a shrug.
"… Did you want to grab lunch afterwards? My treat."
"I am not spending the day in this town, Bunker. This won't take that long," she replied. "In fact, I'm sure once they learn our professions, they'll let us go before we can have a seat." Bunker nodded, albeit reluctantly. Alison tucked her cup in between her legs, and then opened the wrapper of her honey bun. She attempted to ignore the flash of disappointment that made her think of a kicked puppy. Attempted. "Besides, you've already spent more on me than necessary."
"I can… I can stand to spend more."
"You trying to buy me, Bunker?" she asked with a raised brow. Alison watched, intrigued, as the man across from her blushed. His entire face had become red, even his forehead. He sputtered out a negative to her question. It took a moment before she realized where his mind had wandered to. With a roll of her eyes, she took a small bite of the treat. It would have been better warmed up. "That is not I meant, and if it had been, it would have been a joke." The color did not fade. His embarrassment could not be hidden away even if he did start drinking his coffee like it was just water. "I just meant… You don't need to keep thanking me. We're good, right?"
Just like last night, Bunker hesitated. And just like last night, the same answer came from his mouth. "We're good," he said. Alison recognized it as a lie now. More than likely, he would never feel that they were good. She had saved his life. A dinner, and a night in a shabby inn, wouldn't make up for saving a life. At least in his opinion. She, herself, had been quite satisfied with the meal. Not to mention the extra info that came about. She appreciated that he could share those things with her. Why he had felt the need to share was beyond the scope of her imagination, though. If she were honest, the answer did not really matter. Not anymore. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," she replied, and then took several bites of the honey bun while she waited for Bunker to continue. He seemed to be trying to find the right words to what he wanted to ask.
"How did you take back your power?" he blurted. Alison froze mid chew. "You said it took years for you to get it back, so after your mom… taught you, you still didn't have your power. How'd you finally do it?" The bottom of her tongue slid against her lower lip before she swallowed the food in her mouth.
"Meditation, mostly," she eventually answered. It wasn't a lie. Just another half-truth. Besides, he hadn't asked how she had come to realize she hadn't had the power. "Those self-defense classes I took—half of it consisted of meditation and learning discipline. It worked to control the hate and the rage."
"You think it would help me?"
"… Why are you suddenly interested in getting back your power?"
"I didn't realize it was gone until… until you."
"But there must be another reason, Bunker. What are you planning on doing once you have it back?"
"I'm going to destroy the Brotherhood."
0-0
Alison looked genuinely shocked by the admission. Lips parted and brows furrowed, her shock turned into confusion. Kurt shifted uncomfortably. It was the first time he had said it out loud. It was the reason he had come back to Banshee. He had lived relatively comfortable in Dade County, but that life could not stifle the need to come home and fix the wrongs. He had not been able to handle the guilt of letting the Brotherhood get away with… the things that they had done and the things that they would do. Someone had to end them. He had to be the one.
"That's why you came back? The Brotherhood's the reason?" Alison asked. He nodded once in response. "I doubt rehabilitation is going to work for generations of indoctrination. Besides, we can't prosecute someone for just for looking the way they do." Kurt shifted uncomfortably again. She blinked, and then a look of realization formed. "You're… not planning on arresting them." She had understood his intent just because he had remained silent. How did this stranger come to understand him so quickly? Well, she was more than just a stranger now, wasn't she? "They'll kill you before you can make it through a fourth of them."
"As long as I can take down as many as I can… that's all that matters," he stated. His gaze dropped to the floor. It's what he deserved. To go down fighting the biggest horror of Banshee. It would be justice. He had no reservations with that. For all the pain he had caused. For all the vicious sins he had committed. It was the only real way he could repent. But even that wouldn't keep him from Hell.
"That's not-! That has got to be the stupidest-!" Alison breathed in sharply, cutting off, what sounded like, a rant. Kurt lifted his gaze. Her line of sight, however, was on the ceiling as if she couldn't stand the sight of him. Her voice had been high-pitched. He never thought he would see her lose her composure. But why? At the thought of him dying? Unlikely. "Jesus Christ, Bunker! Did you even think about it? How is getting yourself killed going to destroy them? They have numbers!" She finally looked his way again, but it was hard stare. "They could easily replace anyone that you might get through. You're just a man! They are an organization who see you as a traitor, I'm sure. You'll be killed on sight and-"
"Why do you care?" Kurt cut in. His question, almost a whisper, had halted the scolding. She looked stunned by the question, and he immediately regretted asking. It would not take long for her expression to harden. He didn't want to see that. Or hear her hostile rebuttal that she didn't. He shouldn't have asked. Because now he would have to hear the answer. The woman who had saved his life did not care. Nor should she. There was only one way to deal with a monster. Death. It was coming for him. No denying it. The least he could do is spread it as much as possible to the Brotherhood.
Instead of a harsh expression and even harsher words, Alison turned her head away, slight frown on her face and eyes staring elsewhere. Kurt narrowed his eyes, coming to the realization that the action meant embarrassment. Or hesitance, maybe. Regardless, he had made her uncomfortable with his question. That made him feel guilty. It hadn't been an innocent question. It had been more than just a question, heavy with implication and accusation. Preparing to apologize for his… audacity, he opened his mouth. However, Alison released a sigh so heavy, it hunched her shoulders.
"I'm… I'm not ready to tell you that," she stated. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment before turning on him again. It took several moments for Kurt to process what she had meant. When it sank in, it sank deep within his chest. She cared. How, in less than twenty-four hours, had Alison Medding come to care for him? It couldn't be possible, and yet her response to his weighted question told him so. She cared… for him? No one had cared for so long. He had long since accepted that no one ever would. Unable to react, he sat there, paralyzed, waiting for his breath to return. Biting her lower lip, Alison dropped her gaze to her lap. Her fingers and thumbs gripped the coffee cup and removed it from her thighs. "Look—I'm just saying that it would be a waste for you to throw your life away—sacrifice, whatever—just when you've turned things around. You're better than they are. You shouldn't have to die surrounded by them. Naomi would not want you to die like that."
A part of him wanted to argue that she didn't know Naomi. How dare she say her name so nonchalantly when he struggled to even think it? Another part of him realized that Alison wasn't a mere stranger. By her own words, she could see through him. She could see the twisted creature he had become—between man and monster—and still she saw his desire to be better. She saw and understood. She didn't know the little girl, but she understood the impact Naomi still had on him. Because of his own verbal and physical admission. Kurt had willingly told her about the Millers. And that part—the larger part—wanted her to know. That part agreed that Naomi would not have wanted his end to be like that.
He had resigned himself to his fate moments after he had resolved to come back to Banshee. He hadn't considered anything else. Anyone else. There was no one alive that would care. Not even his commanding officer, who had decided to hire and train him despite his appearance, would not take more than a moment to lament his passing. If Naomi still lived, she would have become angry with his decision. If she still lived. But Alison had gotten angry, too. Ranting until she had revealed that she cared. Christ… He still couldn't believe it.
"Bunker…" Alison caught his attention again. He had been looking at her, but his thoughts had made his stare aimless no doubt. Kurt blinked once, noticing that she had set her coffee cup down on the nightstand in between their beds. "I am not trying to stop you from doing what you think needs to be done," she clarified. "I'm just saying that you shouldn't go in thinking that death is your only way out. I saved your life. Don't insult me by dying, what, a few months later?"
"I…" Honestly, he couldn't even deny it. He had expected to die when he faced the Brotherhood. Had even welcomed it. Kurt hadn't expected for someone to save him. And then turn around and begin caring. He welcomed that, too. Strange. His inevitable death had no longer seemed like a sacrifice. Even if he had already resolved to destroy as much of the Brotherhood as he could. He swallowed hard. He had thought he had stopped running. But Alison made him realize maybe that's all he had ever done. Running from the Millers. Running from the Brotherhood. Running from all the pain of his past. Running to his death. Christ. "Teach me," he muttered.
"What?"
"Teach me," he repeated louder. "Teach me control. Teach me how to get my power back." The tension left her face. Alison sighed as though relieved. He couldn't promise that he wouldn't die surrounded by them. He couldn't promise not to go after the Brotherhood in the first place. But, he could, at least, try to come back. Try to become a man before taking them on. Maybe he could succeed in completely destroying it. With her help. She could see through him. How could she? Kurt now realized that she had been just like him at some point in her life. Stuck between the monster and who she was now. She could see through him because she had experienced it all herself. But if that were true, then that had meant she had been a monster.
The acknowledgement sent a chill down his back. Alison Medding. A monster. Christ, it didn't seem likely. She looked at him and saw the inked that marked him. She had no such markings, but she had consciously thought of herself as a monster for a period of time. He wanted to know. He wanted to see her hidden markings. He shouldn't want that. But he did. Kurt wanted to know her. More than that… He wanted to connect to the person who had saved his life.
"Well, I'm no teacher," Alison said with a slight shrug. "Just a student, but I can tell you the basics." She seemed a lot more at ease than before. To be honest, he felt more at ease, too. "First things first, I saw how you normally try to control your anger. Does that actually work?" Kurt cleared his throat.
"Sometimes," he answered. A frown worked its way on to his face. He thought about the numerous times he had attempted to replace his rage with pain. He had had many self-inflicted bruises. She hummed, but he couldn't gauge her opinion based on the small sound. "I know that it's not exactly healthy." Alison leaned forward, elbows against her thighs.
"Have you tried anything else?" she asked. He shook his head. "No wonder…" She pressed her thumbnails against her bottom lip and curled her fingers together as she examined him. He felt self-conscious under her gaze. It felt like she could see every tattoo on his skin. Every shame. Every sin. Every bad thing about him lay bare before her. His body tensed, but despite that, he still felt relatively comfortable. Alison stood, motioning for him to do the same. He did so, allowing her to take the half empty cup from his hand. She set it down beside hers before returning focus on him again. "Close your eyes slowly. Then breathe in deeply through your nose. Exhale with your mouth."
"Shouldn't I be sitting?" Kurt asked. He didn't know much about meditation, but he was almost positive there was sitting involved. Alison stepped closer and his body became a bit more rigid.
"I need to see you breathing to make sure you're doing it right," she replied. "Sitting will come later. Now close your eyes and breathe. Don't think about anything other than your breaths." Kurt obeyed, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. He sighed out, vaguely aware that she had moved to his side. He continued to breathe in and out. For a few minutes, just the sound of his breathing was all he heard. Then Alison told him to sit, so apparently he had been doing it right. For the next twenty minutes, he sat in silence and darkness. "Okay, that was good. Open your eyes."
He did so, and realized that Alison had sat down beside him. She, however, was not looking at his face. Her eyes were focused on his chest. Then shifted her attention to his left hand. She made a grab for it, facing his palm up. Kurt flinched at the touch. "What-?" he began, but she shushed him. He hadn't been shushed since, Christ, the Millers. She pressed fingers to his wrist. That's when he realized she was checking his pulse. It would have been easier if she had gone for his neck… Right. She probably didn't want to touch his tattoos. Though he had ink on his wrists, it was covered by his long-sleeved shirt.
"I've a question," Alison stated. She finally lifted her gaze to meet his. He nodded his head in response. She had been asking him questions this whole time. She didn't need to ask to ask anymore. "That guy… the one that murdered half of your… family—what do you intend to do with him?" Kurt swallowed hard. He had intended to do damage. On the road to Banshee, he had thought of the things he would do the one responsible for the fire. Hondo. He had intended to corner him and beat the living shit out of him. Before he had applied for the position of Deputy, he had intended to get his personal justice.
"He's dead," he said through gritted teeth. "Someone killed him before I even thought about coming back. Ended up being a closed case because there wasn't enough evidence to locate who did it."
"Oh," Alison narrowed her eyes. "So you missed your chance." He had missed it. It would have been satisfying to whisper Happy Birthday after he had finished ruining Hondo's day. "Jesus, Bunker, calm down!" She removed her fingers from his wrist. Kurt flinched, not realizing that until she had mentioned it, that his breaths had become shaky. He murmured an apology and lowered his gaze to his knees. "You're definitely quick to anger. You were in a relaxed state, but the moment I mentioned Hondo, your heart rate spiked."
"Does this mean it won't work for me?" he questioned, gripping his knees.
"Tranquility is a state of mind," Alison stated. "It takes time for you to reach another state. Right?" Hesitantly, Kurt nodded his head in agreement. He knew personally that it did take time. "Meditate every other day for about fifteen minutes and you'll eventually be able to stay calm even if you're provoked. It will work for you."
"How long did it take you?"
"… How long will you wait before making your move?"
He couldn't answer that because he did not know. So far, he had stayed under the radar. Kurt hadn't let anyone he had… associated with know he had come home. Eventually, they would find out. Eventually, they would come looking. "I don't know. There's not a time limit for me," he answered. There had been for Hondo, though. But again, he had lost his chance. Alison nodded her head.
"It took me almost a year," she admitted. The shock must have shown on his face because she continued speaking. "Don't worry. Shouldn't take you that long. You're an adult and you have a duty now. At the time, I didn't have those obligations. You have to get your mind right because of what you have chosen to be." Right. He was a cop. A Deputy. Sworn to protect and serve all. Again, Kurt nodded his head, inwardly hoping this meditation method would only take a few months. "Anyway, we should get going." She stood up and went back over to her bed. She picked up the empty wrapper and reached for her coffee cup.
"Yeah," he muttered as Alison headed to the bathroom to discard the trash. Kurt pursed his lips together, allowing his eyes to fall to his wrist. He flexed and twisted his hand. Sometimes, he could still feel the blood sliding down. Now, he felt the warmest of tingles. He furrowed his brow. Strange. He didn't have more time to ponder because Alison returned from the bathroom and asked if he wanted his honey bun.
Kurt almost couldn't contain the smile.
0-0
Almost an hour later, Kurt found himself lowering Alison's bike off his truck. The trip to the station had been relatively quick. The District Attorney had done most of the talking, explaining how it had all been self-defense. She had even told the officers a white lie about why the two of them had been at the diner in the first place. Something about them talking about a delicate case that they couldn't discuss in Banshee for fear of details leaking. Honestly, Kurt hadn't paid much attention. He had been glaring at the three dipshits that had been behind bars, silently daring them to say anything while Alison spoke to the authorities. They, in returned, had glared at him, not saying a word. Well, two of them. The one that had been brutally beaten had been cowering in the corner.
Anyway, after all was said, the two had to fill out paperwork for the incident. It had more or less been for show. More than likely, the paperwork would be buried under more important things. Now, both he and Alison were preparing to leave. "Thanks," she muttered after the wheels of her bike hit the ground. Kurt nodded, and then moved to jump from his truck. "So I guess… this is it then." She wheeled her motorcycle into the parking space beside his truck.
"I guess so," he admitted reluctantly. She had said it numerous times already. Things just kept getting in the way. Now, there was no way around it. After they parted ways here, they had nothing to do with each other. Alison shifted awkwardly besides her bike, fingers lightly touching the seat. "You sure you don't want lunch?" She smiled, but it was tight.
"Yeah, I'm sure," she replied. "I've got things to do, and I'm sure you do, too." Her head turned slightly. "Good luck with the Deputy thing." Kurt frowned, but she didn't see. "Oh, wait! I forgot my helmet."
"I'll get it," he offered, turning before she could look his way again and see the disappointment. He sighed softly as he opened his passenger door. There wasn't one excuse that he could come up with that would seem plausible to see her again. Not one. And he had been thinking about since last night. Things were truly done between them. Kurt grabbed her helmet from the floor of his truck. As he did, he noticed something in the corner of his eye. He stared long and hard at the object wedged between the padding of the seat.
"Bunker…?"
Kurt squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before moving. He shut his passenger side door and turned around. Holding the helmet out to her, he didn't look at her in the eye. "Here you go," he said, though he barely heard himself. The sound of his rapidly beating heart had entered his ears. Alison took her helmet and without another word straddled her bike. "Goodbye, DA Medding." She stuck her keys in the ignition.
"Bye, Deputy Bunker," she said with a nod. She then put on her helmet and backed out of the parking space. Kurt watched her start up the bike. She then took off, giving a slight wave of her hand.
He watched her go until he could no longer see or hear the roar of the motorcycle. Pressing his lips together, he moved to the driver's side of his truck. He opened the door while fishing out his keys. Before he put his own keys in the ignition, his eyes shifted to the object left behind. Once more, he stared at the small device. He hadn't said anything. He should have said something. The opportunity, though… He hadn't felt so… comfortable around another person in a long time. Alison had made him feel humane. He hadn't realized that he had been missing that contact—human contact. Not until her. He hadn't wanted to let go. So when the chance came, he had seized it by saying nothing at all.
As if disapproving of his lack of action, her cell phone chimed. He felt the slightest guilt as he started up his vehicle. Mostly, though, he felt relief… and anticipation. "See you soon… Alison," he said.
Kurt left the parking lot with a smile that reached his eyes.
0-0
