With a start, Alison opened her eyes, and then sat up straight. Immediately, she regretted the action. Her head spun, and it took every fiber of her being not to throw up whatever content lied in her belly. She fell back, hand lifting to lightly press against her temple. This felt worse than any migraine she had ever felt. Squeezing her eyes shut, a fruitless effort to block out the pain, she pulled the covers over her head. The morning light had done little to soothe her. At least, it felt like morning. She had no way of knowing what time it was. Hell, she didn't even know her current location. Normally, that would trigger alarms, but this wasn't a normal situation.

Groaning, she curled her body, hoping the massive headache she felt would go away. Again, her efforts remained fruitless. Alison clenched her jaw, honestly wanting to stay and ignore everything else. She couldn't though. Despite the horribly distracting headache, she realized that she was somewhere unfamiliar to her. That wasn't good no matter how comforting the sheets smelled or the feel of the bed. She turned on her side, clutching the covers around her as tight as she could. Jesus Christ, what had happened last night? For the moment, she couldn't remember anything. Except for that complimentary bottle of wine.

Alison felt herself scowling. Wine. It had been alcohol, but it had not burned on the way down. She had thought she could handle it. Clearly, she hadn't been able to since she now had a horrible headache. Had it been just the one bottle? She couldn't remember anything pass the third glass. This was Gordon's fault. Probably. He should have shown up on time. She certainly would not have continued to drink. Had he even shown his face? A heavy sigh let her as she uncurled her body. She needed to get up and figure out what had happened. So with a growing lack of reluctance, Alison slowly pulled the covers from her head, turning onto her back again.

Her eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings. It was obvious that she laid in a bedroom. However, there were no distinguishing or familiar traits about the room. It all seemed so simple. For several moments, Alison focused on the slowly spinning fan above her. Then, slowly, she sat up again. Once again, her eyes scanned the room. Nothing got her attention, except for the open door to the right. Squinting, she realized that across from this bedroom was another room. Judging from the tile, and the sink close to the door, it was a bathroom. Fortunately, she was not feeling an urge to use the bathroom. Sighing through her nose, Alison began to move from the comfort of the bed.

Her bare feet touched the floor, and it was a struggle to push herself from the bed. Jesus Christ… How much had she drank? Alison reached up, clutching her pounding head. She had never experienced being hungover, but she was certain that she was experiencing it now. She took two steps towards the door, and then another. On the fourth step, her entire body reeled in protest. Her insides squeezed and twisted. Specifically, her stomach lurched and popped. Eyes widening, Alison made a mad dash for the bathroom. She sank to her knees in front of the toilet, which hurt like hell, and gripped the bowl. Not a second later, the contents of her stomach rushed up through her throat and exploded from her mouth.

She retched, gagged, and heaved, cursing the invention of alcohol. It hadn't burned on the way down, but it certainly got the job done on the way back up. Jesus Christ, she felt like dying. Alison was almost positive tears leaked out of her eyes. She would never understand people who went through this on the regular. Never. How could she have drank so much to cause this horrendous result in the first place? "Alison…!" Wearily, she turned, peering through the strands of hair that had fallen in front of her face. She breathed deeply through her nose, hoping that vomit hadn't splashed back up and in her hair. "Are you okay?" Before she could snap back—because seriously?!—another wave of queasiness overwhelmed her. She quickly shifted her mouth back to the toilet bowl and threw up again. There might have been sobbing involved.

A hand touched her back, sliding up and down as she deposited what was left in her stomach. Another hand tugged at her hair, pulling it back and away from her face. Thank God for those hands. They were doing well in soothing her. Alison gripped the rim of the toilet and lifted her head once the dry heaving stopped. She sniffed miserably, feeling horrible. But she took comfort in the fact that she was some place familiar. She recognized the bathroom. She recognized the hands that relaxed her. She recognized the deep voice, too. "Bunker…" she rasped. Swallowing, she squeezed her eyes shut. Then she groaned, realizing he was seeing her unsightly state. No

"Hold on," he told her, hands leaving her. "I'll get you some water and aspirin."

Alison watched him walk out of the bathroom, wondering if she had sounded like a dying animal out loud. Slowly, her fingers reached to flush. Grimacing, she turned her eyes away from her shame as it swirled and drained away. She scooted backwards until her back hit the side of the bathtub, listening to the sound of flushing until it was over. The coolness of the tile and the bathtub seeped through her clothes. Furrowing her brow, she looked down, noticing for the first time that she wasn't in her clothes. She now wore a plain white T-shirt and black boxer briefs—both larger than she would ever buy. They were distinctively male versions, anyway. Alison blinked slowly, and then peered down the front of the shirt. She still had on her bra. A quick peek pass the waistband told her she still wore her panties, too. Also her right hand was wrapped in bandages… Jesus Christ, what had happened last night? When had she hurt herself? She was never going to get drunk again! She heard herself whimper as she drew up her knees and hugged her legs.

Minute after, throbbing headache, minute passed until she heard footsteps. Reluctantly, she lifted her head to see feet right in front of her. Like her, Kurt had been barefoot. Alison blinked, becoming aware that this was the first time she had seen his feet. It was an irrelevant detail. She didn't know why her mind had connected that dot in the first place. Probably because of the intense agony it was going through and could only revel in the simple things. Sniffing, Alison lifted her gaze further, eyeing the outstretched arm. Without hesitance, she took his offered hand, and she was hoisted up only to be guided to sit on the edge of the tub instead of the floor.

Kurt turned his back to her, reaching for the back of the toilet. He had placed a bottle water there, along with a small bottle of pills. Alison made grabby hands for the two items even before he turned back around to face her. Once her targets were shown, she quickly snatched them from his hands. "Thanks," she mumbled, holding the water bottle between her thighs. Kurt didn't reply to her. Hopefully, she hadn't sounded so irritated with him. Honestly, she was grateful for his actions despite drawing a blank for yesterday evening. Never a-fucking-gain, she vowed as she twisted open the cap of the aspirin. Not bothering to read the instructions, she popped two pills in her mouth before washing them down with the water.

Normally, she wouldn't stop drinking until the bottle was empty, but Alison couldn't bring herself to do it this time. She still felt nauseous. A long shuddering breath left her as she placed the caps back on the pills and water. "How are you feeling now?" Kurt asked. It took quite of bit of her dead will not to snap at him for another ridiculous question. Instead, she sighed again, less shaky than the previous one, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Like a group of people doing the cha-cha-cha with my brain as the dance floor," she answered.

"Yeah, I remember what that's like," Kurt murmured. Alison felt, rather than saw, him move to sit beside her. "It'll gradually go away. Drinking a lot of water helps." Instead of giving a verbal response to him, she huffed lightly through her nose and tilted her body towards his. Kurt flinched when her head rested against his shoulder. Huh. He hadn't done that in a while. Still, he hadn't went completely still by the contact either. "What… What do you remember?"

"Jack shit," Alison replied immediately. She felt him chuckle. "Seriously… How do people do this, knowing memory loss is a part of it?"

"What's the last thing you remember then?"

"… Gordon was supposed to meet me for dinner…" Alison explained. "While I waited for him to show up, I was offered free wine."

"Ah, free, so that's why," Kurt reasoned. Not liking his assumption, though it was true, she tilted her head up to glare at him. He had the decency to look apologetic, but his lips upturned showing his mirth. The number of people that knew she could not turn down free food—to her knowledge, anyway—had increased by one. That had been the initial reason, anyway. Truthfully, as she had continued to stare at the bottle of wine, she had thought it might have been a way to numb herself. Her mind, specifically. By the time she had gotten to the restaurant, thoughts of Kurt Bunker had still lingered. Had still overwhelmed her.

But… mostly, she had felt guilt. The way she had left things yesterday morning—it hadn't been her proudest moment since their relationship began. Three months in, and she had reacted at a drop of a dime. She had known what his past must have looked like. The details shouldn't have rattled her mind to that extent. Hell, after thinking about it, the details hadn't been the exact reason for fleeing. It was the thought of her being… relatively okay with what he had described. Not okay-okay—it had still been a terrible thing he had done for shits and giggles—but she hadn't the right to judge. When it came down to it, she had done what she had done for shits and giggles, too. Kurt telling her what he had done—the details of it—had made Alison realize just how much they had in common.

Monsters.

They were a couple of monsters that had started feeling. She should not have run from her kindred. She should apologize for doing so. If it had been reversed, she would have been on pins and needles the entire day, wondering if their friendship had come to an end because he couldn't see pass her past. Not now, though. Thinking about it just might counteract the drugs. Pursing her lips, Alison squeezed her eyes shut. Later. Definitely later. Right now, she had to try to piece together her memory. "How'd I get here?" she questioned, tilting away and sitting straight up.

"You weren't exactly willing to tell me," Kurt replied, voice a bit strained. Like he wanted to clear his throat, but was restraining himself. Odd. "You didn't walk, though." Alison made an inquisitive noise, wondering how he came to that conclusion. "Your feet—I mean, you wore heels."

"Ah," she said, understanding his reasoning. Her eyes opened, staring down at her feet. Surely, they would show blisters from the long walk. Maybe even her nail polish chipped off. There was none of that. Someone had dropped her off here. Especially since Kurt hadn't seemed like the one to pick her up. So… she hadn't called him in her drunken state. Alison supposed that could have been a silver lining. But then it also meant someone else had become privy to where she had been spending some of free time with. She didn't quite like that. Now, more than ever, she wanted to know what happened yesterday night. "What happened to my hand?"

"I don't know that," Kurt stated. "I noticed one of the times that you got up in the middle of the night. You were bleeding. … There was glass inside your palm, but I cleaned it out and wrapped it up. I didn't see any other injuries."

"Thank you."

"… You really don't remember how that happened?"

Alison shook her head. She honestly couldn't remember anything. If she hadn't injured her hand here, then it must have been before she had been dropped off. She couldn't think of a reason why only her one palm had been hurt. A finger from her naked hand lightly touched her bandaged palm. "Where are my clothes?"

She felt him twitch. Kurt actually slid away from her. It prompted her to look at him—actually look at him since she had woken up. He did not look at her, though. In fact, he seemed to be actively focused on the toilet. Because his head was tilted away, his neck was stretched. Normally, she wouldn't stare, but there were dark marks on his neck that didn't seem to be from the ink. They were more like splotches, so much unlike the intricate design of his wings. They were out of place, which was the reason she had noticed in the first place. "They're in the living room," Kurt answered, unknowingly interrupting before she could open her mouth to ask. Still, his eyes stayed on the toilet. "You… woke up a few times… uh… complaining about the heat…" His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "I gave you those to… change into."

"Oh, thanks," Alison murmured, narrowing her eyes. It wasn't that she didn't believe him, but… why was he nervous? He was more still and distant than the first time that had had a meal together. It was altogether worrisome. "So my car's not outside then? I wonder if it's still at the restaurant."

"Maybe," Kurt responded. "You still had your keys, though. You really don't remember anything? At all?" Once again, Alison shook her head. He finally shifted his gaze to her, looking both relieved and disappointed. Chewing on her lower lip, she stared back at him. The conflict of emotions in his eyes made her wonder… Kurt cleared his throat, and then blinked. "So if you're feeling up to it, we can see if it's there—at the restaurant, I mean. It's still pretty early…"

"Do you have sunglasses in your truck?" Alison questioned, slowly standing from the edge of the tub. Almost instantly, her hand went to soothe the pounding in her head. She didn't think she would make it long with direct sunlight. Honestly, she wanted to curl back up and go back to sleep.

"Yeah, in the glove compartment."

"Good—let's go."

Within five minutes, Alison found herself sitting beside Kurt again in his truck. She fumbled with the glove compartment whilst squeezing her eyes shut. Complicated thing to do while her eyes were shut, but she managed to feel for the sunglasses she sought. She placed them on her face just as Kurt slid into the truck. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes, and then breathed a sigh of relief. With her sight darkened, the sun's light hadn't been as harsh as anticipated. Alison still lowered the sun visor in front of her. Just in case.

Kurt shut the door, and then handed her the folded clothes. Like he had mentioned before, it was still early on a Sunday, so Alison didn't have to worry about prying eyes. Church-goers weren't a concern either. Either they had already gone or they had already decided on not going. Good for her. She was still pretty much in an indecent state. Just because Kurt's clothes were big on her didn't mean she felt any less exposed. She only prayed that the restaurant was still deserted once they arrived.

While he started up the engine, Alison pulled her cell phone from the folded clothes. She had two missed calls—both from Gordon—and a voicemail. Also from Gordon. She held the phone up to her ear after tapping her voicemail app. She frowned as she listened to the familiar voice of the Mayor. Apparently, he was hoping for forgiveness because he had done something horrible last night. The message hadn't mentioned this horrible thing, but he had mentioned himself dropping her off at her friend's place. His voice had sounded oddly strained. But only when he had said 'friend.' Alison decided to put it to the back of her mind. Come Monday, they would have a conversation about what happened. For now, she didn't want to stress thinking about it now.

A grimace formed on her face as she marked the voicemail for deletion. She sincerely hoped this horrible thing hadn't been another attempt at flirting. It had been bad enough last time when he had been borderline depressed and alone. According to their last conversation, he had been trying to work things out with his wife. After too much information on his part, Alison had summarized that Carrie Hopewell and Gordon Hopewell were well on their way to living together again. Maybe it would even stop that brat of theirs from getting into trouble—even if she was the blood daughter of the Sheriff. Anyway, an awkward attempt at flirting might impede the process. Especially if Carrie found out. And Gordon would tell her because he was dumb enough when it came to the woman he loved.

In all honesty, Alison had been surprised he had left her in the first place. Sure, she had a… surprising past for a housewife, but Gordon had always referred to Carrie as the love of his life. Still, she had lied about pretty much everything about herself. Maybe Gordon had believed he had fallen in love with the lie, and not the woman, which had been the reason the truth had rattled him so hard. But he was better now, and a stupid attempt at flirting shouldn't ruin that. Sighing lightly, Alison sent her friend a quick message. See you on Monday, it had said. After thinking about it, she sent another. Thanks for dropping me off.

"Was that the Mayor?" Kurt asked her as she rested her phone on top of the clothes in her lap. Her eyes shifted to him, taking notice that they were moving. His eyes remained focused on the road ahead. It was fleeting, but she had an urge to slide over and curl up against him. She could smell him from her position and it reminded her of the comforting bed she had left behind to regurgitate. Swatting the urge away, she pressed her head against the door's window.

"Yeah," she murmured. The audio of her phone had always been unnaturally loud. In an enclosed space, other people could hear. Maybe not able to understand words, but they could recognize voices. She had never thought of getting it another one before, and she wasn't about to start now. "He's the one that brought me."

"He… He knows?"

"Well, he didn't mention you," Alison replied. "But he'll have questions, I'm sure." At that, she frowned, not exactly okay with that. Kurt was still her secret, and she honestly liked it that way. Not because it was safer—well, maybe it started off that way—but because… she was, admittedly, possessive about him. He was hers. Alison bit her lower lip. A month ago, her mind had protested such a… possession. It had just seemed wrong. But gradually, she had accepted it. Gradually, she had begun to like it. Kurt was hers. Her friend. Her secret. Her personal chef—if she were all the way honest. Her monster-man. He was hers. "I'll take care of it next week."

He grunted noncommittally, but she could see the upturn of his lips. For the first time since she had woken up, a smile graced her face. Hopefully, her possessive streak would fade. Honestly, she was itching to tell Lena about him. Her best friend would shit bricks when she found out.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Kurt had a functional radio, but Alison suspected he hadn't turned it on because most likely heavy metal would assault her ears. That type of music would never go well with hangovers. When they arrived to the restaurant, she spotted her vehicle. The parking lot itself was relatively empty. Kurt pulled up right beside her car. Alison, however, did not move to get out. She bit her lower lip again before shifting her gaze to him. He had to work tonight, and she didn't think she would feel up to him visiting. Chances were, they wouldn't see each other for a few days after this. Better to come clean now than to have him waiting in suspense…

"Bunker," she began, and then swallowed.

"You need to stay hydrated," Kurt told her without turning to face her. "Water is good for that. Eating toast will make you feel better. And get as much rest as possible." Alison smiled again, despite being interrupted. He had been taking care of her this whole time, hadn't he? It was pleasant even though she couldn't remember most of it. "I can… check on you later, if you want."

"No, that's not necessary," she said. "I wouldn't want to pull you away from work. I'll text you later, though, when I feel better. Thanks." Kurt finally turned his eyes to her. "I hope I wasn't an annoyance."

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "Of course not."

"Liar," she guessed.

"I've seen worse… I think."

"Anyway," Alison stressed, rolling her eyes. She heard him chuckle. She was going to let his teasing slide this time. He had been tense the entire car ride. No. Ever since she had woken up, probably. It was good to see him relax. Hopefully, she hadn't made a complete fool of herself last night, and he wouldn't keep bringing up whatever shenanigans she had gotten up to while drunk. "I…" she hesitated. "I want to apologize for leaving the way I did yesterday morning." She looked towards her lap, fiddling with her fingers. "It wasn't because of what you told me—not the details, at least. The more I thought about it, the more it became clear that I… wasn't uncomfortable with the details. I wasn't… afraid of you. I'm not afraid of you."

"Alison, you don't have to-"

"Please, Bunker," she cut in before he could finish his protest. "I ran out on you, and I shouldn't have done that right after you told me what happened. As crazy as it sounds, despite your past… and mine… I've already accepted you. I shouldn't have left like that. And I even snapped at you. I'm sorry." For several long moments, Kurt did not respond to her genuine apology. Suddenly worried, Alison turned her gaze to him. He still had not looked her way, but now he was gripping the steering wheel. Hard. She hadn't seen his defense mechanism since he had started meditating. Was he angry? But that would be a wildly incongruous reaction to her apology. Something was wrong. "Bunker…?" Unbidden, her hand reached for his.

"I took advantage of you!" Kurt blurted, borderline shouted. Instantly, her hand halted its path to his. Everything halted. He… what? No. No. He couldn't have. He wouldn't have. "You were drunk, and I… I couldn't… I couldn't help myself… If you didn't pass out, I—we… Alison, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" He finally looked at her, and her mind registered the overwrought guilt in his eyes. Her body, however, had not been so quick. So when he had reached for, she had violently flinched away from him. The back of her head smacked against the glass. "Alison!"

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, glaring at him and ignoring the massive throbbing from the collision.

Kurt recoiled as though she had struck him. But she didn't care. She couldn't bring herself to. Everything came rushing back, crashing into her like waves in a storm. But that type of evil, I wouldn't inflict on anyone, he had told her. He had promised her. She shuddered, and nearly choked on her own breath. But by his own admission, he hadn't been able to help himself. And suddenly, she was sixteen again, screaming and crying and pleading. Alone with monsters that took advantage and violated her body. That couldn't bring themselves to spare her despite her only being a child. Despite everything that had made her innocent. Oh, God… She was sixteen again, helpless and screaming. Drowning and overwhelmed. Terrified. And so sick. No. No. No.

Not realizing her actions, Alison had found herself in her car, vision blurred, trying desperately to stick her key in the ignition. With a shaky hand, it was proving to be a difficult challenge. A pounding on the window nearly caused her to drop her keys. She turned her attention to the left. Seeing Kurt Bunker, begging her to wait—to listen—made her feel nauseous. Jesus Christ, she had blindly trusted him. Had taken his words at face-value, and he had only taken advantage. "Stay the fuck away from me!" Within a closed space, her shout must have been muffled to his ears, but he understood. The instantaneous stricken look had told her so. He stopped his attempts of making her stay, of getting her attention, and took several steps away from her car. It wasn't until she heard the screech of her tires against the pavement that she realized she had even started her car. It was only then that the tears escaped her eyes. It was only then that the mantra attempted to console her. Never again. Never again. Never again.

It did not work.

0-0

Billy was a patient man. For the life he had chosen, he would have to be. Between his family—where he was outnumbered three to one by his wonderful wife and children—and job—where the threat of boredom was a constant thing, the deputy had learned to be patient. There were times, of course, that his patience ran thin. Like now. Boredom was partially to blame honestly but it had been several days now, and his coworker had yet to say what was on his mind. It went without saying that Kurt Bunker was a private man, but over the past few months, he had gradually began to open up. Apparently, the man was a wizard in the kitchen. He liked to read. And he had a weird thing for anything involving the actor, Will Smith. Billy still found himself chuckling to himself about that one.

Anyway, it had been several days since Kurt had come in, wearing a sad puppy expression. Only Billy seemed to notice his despondent demeanor. Alma didn't care, and pretty much ignored the employee, which was understandable. From the receptionist's perspective, she didn't have to make nice with someone who had so obviously had a terrible past. A terrible nature. She wouldn't even try to know Kurt the way he was now. Admittedly, it was a surprise that Billy had dropped his guard and allowed conversation between himself and the former neo-Nazi. So he was the only one to actually notice that something was wrong. The Sheriff and Deputy Lotus were still out of state on their vacation. They probably wouldn't notice even if they were back to work.

Out of everyone in the department, Billy had chosen to be the bigger person and had actually spoke with Kurt. Underneath the ugly tattoos, he was honestly a good guy. He probably hadn't been, but now he was okay. Now, he had changed from what had used to be. Billy had learned to understand him. Sure, reading his micro-expression had helped, but he liked to think that it had been because the two of them had come to an understanding. Maybe they were more than coworkers now. So that might be contributing to his patience running thin. Kurt had yet to tell him what had happened to make him visibly miserable. And if he hadn't seen the distraught expression, Billy would have noticed in the way he had done his daily tasks. The attempts had been just as sluggish. Not a lot of things had gotten done efficiently. He had been almost completely out of character.

The need to know was scratching, and his patience had ran out yesterday. Time to talk then. This late at night, Billy didn't expect calls. There had hardly been any calls when the sun had been up. The town of Banshee obviously didn't rely on police to keep the peace. Worse than the reservation. At least back home, they would be a brawl to break up almost every day. Banshee was always so quiet, but the pay was too good to pass up, and he had been desperate to get his family off the reservation, so he would stay despite the boredom.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Billy wheeled his chair from behind his desk, and scooted towards Kurt's. The man hadn't even looked up. Not bothering to initiate the conversation, Billy waited until his fellow deputy to acknowledge him. After a few moments, Kurt's eyes darted from the paper he had been pretending to work on all night. "Sir…?" Billy sound himself frowning. It had been a month since he had been called that. To think he had gotten used to hearing his first name from this guy. They had gotten pass the polite phase already, so to realize that Kurt had regressed back to how he had been a month ago was troubling to say the least. When Billy didn't respond, Kurt furrowed his brow in confusion. "I'm… almost done with this…"

"You've been almost done ever since she started staring aimlessly at it," Billy corrected. Kurt frowned, but did not deny the observation. "So you gonna tell me what's going on, or are you planning this for another week?"

"I don't know what you mean, sir," Kurt replied.

"Is this about the woman with the cell phone?" His question caused his coworker to visibly pale. Of course this was about that woman. Kurt had yet to reveal who this mysterious woman was, but about sixty percent of their conversations involved her in some type of way. Admittedly, Billy was normally the one to bring her up. Kurt liked to stay tight-lipped about her if he could. Understandable, really. Whoever this woman could be, it would be easier for her if everyone didn't know about her association. As nice of a guy as Kurt tried to be—it did little to alter the public's image of him. "Is it, isn't it? Something happened after she left your apartment?"

"… It's nothing," Kurt persisted.

"I'm going to call bullshit on that," Billy retorted. "You were down in the dumps on your day off, and when you got back, you were worse. This woman effects your mood, Bunk. I've been around you long enough to figure that out." One time, Kurt had pouted—not really because it was Kurt—all morning due to this woman telling him he smelled like a wet dog. Because of the rain. Most recent, she had practically ran away from his apartment after hearing about the horrible deed that had caused him to leave the Brotherhood. Kurt had been agitated because of it. "Just make this easier and tell me what's going on again. I might be able to help."

"You won't be able to," Kurt replied with a shake of his head. "I messed up and I can't come back from it."

"Says the former neo-Nazi," Billy rolled his eyes. His fellow deputy sighed lightly, shifting his gaze to the right. He mumbled something, but it was too garbled to make anything out of it. "Here's what I think: You did something that's making you feel guilty—something to do with her."

"It doesn't matter now," Kurt muttered. "She hates me." Billy scoffed. That was highly unlikely. This woman looked beyond the tattoos. Maybe not at first, but she had eventually. No way she would jump ship after hearing one little thing. Okay, maybe 'little' wasn't the best way to describe whatever Kurt had done. But Billy was confident Kurt was not the type to cross that line despite how tight-lipped he normally was about his past. The point was that this woman had stuck around, and hearing the details wouldn't drive her away. There must have been something else. "It's true…" Kurt bit out. Almost glaring, he focused on the desk. "She doesn't want to see me ever again."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating."

"Her exact words were 'Stay the fuck away from me.' She screamed at me and looked at me like… I'm still a monster." Billy winced at his confession. Monster…? Harsh. And maybe a little accurate. Still, something didn't add up. Why would this woman react so viciously? Billy had no idea when the two of them met, but based on the snippets of their relationship that Kurt had told him, they had a strong type of bond. Her reaction to his past just wasn't making sense. In addition to his sad puppy thing, the man also showed confusion. Kurt sighed heavily. "I deserve it. I know that, but… sometimes… most of the time, I forget what I've done. When it's just us, I'm not the monster."

"Bunk, you've got to level with me. What exactly happened?" Billy questioned. It probably wasn't as bad as Kurt was making it out to be. His coworker clenched his jaw. He got that look on his face again—pinched lips, narrowed eyes, and flared nostrils. That look normally came before he politely snapped back to end the conversation. "You've got nothing to lose," Billy mentioned before Kurt could get the chance to speak again. "If you're so adamant that it's over, there's no harm in telling me. Like I said, I might be able to help."

For a few tense moments, Kurt didn't respond. Then he swallowed. "She came back to my place that night, but she was drunk…" he began. Billy sat, listening to his fellow deputy as he told him the events that led to him wallowing in self misery. "… Then she drove away," he finished, glaring down at his desk. Billy could only stare, horrified. Not hearing an actual response, Kurt finally looked up at him. "I know I took advantage of her. I know its bad-"

"No! I mean, yes!" he exclaimed. "Holy shit, Bunk!" Billy shook his head, hoping to stop the rising panic. Of course this woman had reacted badly. Kurt hadn't properly explained himself. She must've assumed the worst—not what his fellow deputy had actually done. "Did you actually graduate from the Academy?! I'm pretty sure there's an entire class on what not to say to women who have blacked out!" That had been an exaggeration, but from the way Kurt furrowed his brown, Billy could tell he took it seriously. "Stop talking!" he squeaked out before Kurt could get a word in. Wide-eyed, Billy rubbed his temple. "You kissed her after she kissed you-" Kurt opened his mouth. "-And that was still the wrong thing to do, but what's worse is the way you told her! No wonder she ran away from you!"

"I couldn't just keep it a secret," Kurt protested.

Billy shook his head. If he hadn't already known better, he would have waited for the punchline. But no. Kurt was seriously that dense when it came to social cues and interactions. He had obviously been deprived of human contact for too long. "That's not what I meant!" he told him. "Imagine if you—a woman—couldn't remember several hours, and someone—a man—told you: I took advantage. You were drunk. I couldn't help myself." Kurt stared blankly. "And that's it!" Finally, the gears whirled at the expected pace. Billy imagined that the horrified look Kurt now sported had matched his earlier one perfectly. "Yes!" he nearly hissed in triumph. "Because you didn't actually tell her what happened—or rather what didn't—she assumed that you…" Honestly, Billy didn't want to say it out loud. He didn't want to imagine his… coworker as that type of person.

"Christ…" Kurt said through gritted teeth.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"… I'm…" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm going to stay away from her." Kurt didn't see Billy's face twist into confusion, but he must have sensed the incredulity because he sighed heavily and opened his mouth to explain. "I meant what I told her. I couldn't help myself. If she wouldn't have passed out, I would have gone through with it. If she… wants me out of her life for what I did… or was going to do, I won't argue." Billy opened his mouth, but realized how much closer the situation was beginning to look black and white, not the grey he had wanted to assume. If Kurt had gone through with it, it would have been terribly wrong because consent had not been given despite her initiation.

That is what his parents—his mother specifically—taught him. If one of the participants was under any type of influence—drugs, alcohol, manipulation, fear—it wasn't real consent, therefore wrong. Black and white. Cut and dry. Kurt must have had similar teachings. Before the whole Nazi thing was so ingrained, anyway. But he didn't want to think of Kurt like that. He could imagine some pretty messed up shit he may have done, but that…? Seeing the guilt in pretty much everything he did and said—would he be an awful guy if he wanted to lean towards the grey? Kurt really like this woman with the cell phone. That much had been clear. Because of that guilt, he was willing to end the relationship he had established with her. And since this woman so clearly had a huge effect on Kurt's behavior, things were just going to get worse. Eventually, his fellow deputy would withdraw within himself, and not even the stupid jokes Billy told him would get him out of it.

"How can you be sure she wants that?" Billy questioned. "It's been a few days… Maybe it's been enough time for her to calm down? I'm guessing you haven't contacted her since that blow out."

"She hasn't contacted me," Kurt murmured, shaking his head.

"That doesn't mean she doesn't want you in her life," Billy countered. The man frowned, clearly unconvinced. "Didn't you tell me it's easier to run? Maybe she's just running."

"Ali… She's not the type to run." Billy gave him a look. The woman had literally run away. Twice. Instead of just talking it out. Granted, her reactions were reasonable, given the circumstances, she reacted with emotion instead of logic in those instances. Apparently, very similar to Kurt. "That was different. She came back-"

"So did you!"

Kurt tensed so much that it was noticeably. Alma could probably sense it from her desk. Perhaps he was now regretting how much information he had given since the start of their actual conversations. Kurt blinked three times before, and then averted his eyes to the left corner of her room. "Why do you care?" The question completely caught Billy off guard. He blinked in surprise, leaning back in his chair. He hadn't realized he had leaned forward in the first place. He cared…? When had that happened? He frowned deeply, coming to the understanding that he did, in fact, care. "I'm sorry…" Kurt mumbled, voice tinged with regret. Probably for blurting it out, for forcing something that neither of them had mentioned previously. It was an out, and Billy could have retaliated with a harsh rebuttal, denying such a thing.

"You know why," he said instead. As though not expecting it, Kurt's eyes snapped up in his direction. Billy pursed his lips and crossed his arms, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the slight confession. "Look, Bunk, all I'm saying is… try to talk to her. Come to an understanding, and maybe if you stop running—the both of you—this might not be as bad as you first thought." The frown came back, but he appeared more pensive.

"I-" Before he could continue, his eyes darted down to his lap. Kurt then shifted a bit, hand reaching into his left pocket. He pulled out his flip phone. A slight chuckle escaped, causing Kurt to glare his way. Billy vividly remembered the argument they had had about him getting a smartphone. That conversation had revealed that Kurt was pretty much useless when it came to newer technology. A fact that Billy had playfully lorded over his head ever since. The phone wasn't ringing so the vibration that had caught his attention must have been just a text. Kurt's eyes grew wide as the color drained from his face, and then rapidly came back full force.

"What?" Then Billy's eyebrows rose. "It's her, isn't it?" Kurt hesitated, and then slowly showed the text message that had been sent. Come over, it said. "Respond!" he urged, confused as to why Kurt hadn't immediately done so. This was his chance, and she even invited him over. The man only shrugged, looking hopeless. Almost rolling his eyes, Billy snatched the device out of his hand. Kurt made a feeble attempt to get it back, but the attempted was expertly blocked. "I'll do it for you." It took a moment—because he had to remember how to send a text with a flip phone—but he sent a proper response back for Kurt. Hopefully, she wouldn't know the difference. "There. All you have to do is show up."

"Thanks," Kurt grumbled, though he didn't sound as thankful as he should. Billy rolled his eyes before focusing on the tiny screen again. He squinted at the contact name. He shifted an incredulous stare on him. "What?"

"You named her 'Goddess' in your phone? Does she know that?"

This time, Kurt made a much more aggressive attempt to get his phone back.

Billy cackled in amusement as he pushed away from the desk and out of reach.

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