Alison slowly opened her eyes, and was greeted by the darkness of the room. She blinked, waiting for her sight to adjust. The blinds were shut, but the moon's light proved to be enough for her to make out more than just shadows. She lifted her head and turned her focus to the man beside her. Her shifting had not awakened him. Kurt continued to sleep on his side with the fingers of his right hand splayed against her lower back. His right leg laid in between hers. Admittedly, waking up like this had taken some getting used to. Most of her life, she hadn't had to share her bed with anyone, and now practically every night she had someone touching her so casually intimate.
A smile tugged at her lips as she continued observing him. The little bit of light reflected off the liquid that had formed on his skin. Sweat—it littered his skin, but Kurt slept, unbothered by the heat. To Alison, the heat had been a downside of sleeping over. No matter how many times Kurt had complained, the landlord hadn't taken care of the faulty air condition. Randomly, it would just stop circulating in the middle of the night, and the fan above them never really helped. That was the reason, most of the time, they had taken to sleeping in her bed instead of his. If only Alison hadn't had a fondness for his bed as of late.
Taking in a soft breath, she slipped her left hand from under the pillow. Her fingertips trailed down his arm, taking drops of perspiration with them. She didn't really mind the sweat. Kurt, so deep in sleep, was unaware of her feather light touch. After another moment, Alison took her hand back and shifted her head, gaze focusing on the cordless phone. The glowing display told her she had only slept for about two hours. She huffed lightly, dropping her head back onto the pillow. She laid there for a few moments, silently debating if she wanted to get up. However, her bladder won the argument. Another huff left her before she began to crawl out of bed.
Despite the slight noise that had come from removing herself from the comforts of bed, Kurt went on sleeping. Alison yawned as she made her across the room. She opened the door, nearly shuffling towards the bathroom. She covered another yawn with the back of her hand. After shutting the door behind her, she hurriedly went about her business. Despite the heat of the apartment, the tiled floor of the bathroom was still cold. Having her bare feet against the floor, courtesy of her socks coming off, wasn't exactly a comfortable feeling. Honestly, she should probably stop wearing socks to bed. They always managed to come off, anyway.
Humming lightly, Alison shut off the flow of water from the sink's faucet. She dried her hands, and then tossed the paper towel into the nearby small trashcan—both items she had convinced Kurt to get. The liquid soap had been bought, too. Alison bit her lower lip as she stared at her reflection. Her fingers gripped the rim of the circular sink. Suddenly thoughts of Kurt filled her head. It had only been a few short hours ago that she had learned that the man she loved intended to go against his former organization. Never mind her bladder, her mind had been restless as well. It hadn't been a wonder why she had only slept for two hours.
Alison exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes narrowing. Despite her telling Kurt that she couldn't know what his plans were, she wanted to know as much as possible. She needed to know everything, really. There was a scratching at her brain that wouldn't settled until she did. That's how it usually went with cases. This would be no different, she believed. As soon as Kurt woke up, during the later morning hours, they would talk this through. Especially about the current leader of the Brotherhood. Leader… She had met one of those before. The man was a distant memory, but if Calvin was anything like him… well, it was worrisome. But Kurt trusted his brother—at least, he trusted that his brother's actions wouldn't necessarily cause too much harm. Admittedly, the Brotherhood had been quiet for a few years now. Maybe Calvin was mild in comparison, after all…?
She suddenly heard her cell phone going off. Alison blinked, and then frowned. Who was calling her at three in the morning? Someone with a lot of audacity most likely. Sighing, Alison turned away from the mirror, and then opened the bathroom door. The ringing became louder as she moved down the hallway towards the front door. The ringtone was the phone's default, so whoever it could be hadn't been assigned in her contacts. She ran her fingers through her hair with her right hand and grabbed the cell phone with her left. Her face hardened into a scowl because she recognized the number. This motherfucker…! Then she winced because wrong word choice.
Huffing, she slid her finger against the phone's screen to answer the call. "Have you lost your mind?" Alison questioned in a whisper. This asshole had been calling her for weeks, trying to arrange some type of meeting. No matter how many times she had turned him down, or ignored his phone calls, he would always end up getting the courage to call again. Twice a week, she had to deal with this—it had been a wonder how he had gotten her personal cell phone number in the first place—but this had been the first time he had called so late. "I can get you for harassment. You know that, right?"
"If you were going to, you would have done so already," he replied, tone sounding casual and smug at the same time. Alison felt her scowl deepen. "I imagine you have already thought of the potential drawbacks of bringing your justice system into this. What would happen if the citizens of our lovely town find out their District Attorney's mother was just as guilty as those she put away? Of course, that fact may never come to light in court, but it would be too much of a risk to gamble, I assume?"
Alison sucked in a harsh breath, lowering her arm and tilting her chin up towards the ceiling. She really wanted to hit him. Just one solid punch, and she would be satisfied. Maybe. Clenching her jaw, she looked down the hallway. Although Kurt was the heaviest sleeper she knew, she didn't want him waking up and overhearing. This continued harassment was something he hadn't been aware of, and honestly, Alison wanted to keep it that way. She knew Kurt wouldn't stop until this problem went away. And now that he had revealed his steadfast intention against the Brotherhood, she was even less inclined to tell him. No. It would be better to deal with this issue by herself.
Biting her lower lip, she made a grab for her cardigan while simultaneously shoving her feet into her shoes. It was prickly without socks, but she figured she wouldn't be in her shoes for long. Alison slipped into the cardigan, and then held the phone back up to her ear. She grabbed her set of keys, and then opened the door and left the apartment. "What do you want, Proctor?" she asked. "It's the middle of the damn night."
"I already told you what I want," he replied. "Now that we both know of our connection, we should meet and go over what that means." Alison could only sigh heavily in response. "Truthfully, I expected to get your voicemail. Perhaps you would be more susceptible to a recorded message."
"I hear holding your breath is bad for you," she retorted.
"Ah, that clever tongue—your mother had the same rapier wit." Alison shook her head, fingers gripping the cell phone harder than necessary. If she hadn't hated Proctor before, she damn sure did now. But… That hatred was based on a bias of assumptions. For all his talk, the business man had never admitted to anything—nothing to incriminate him of wrongdoing, at least. So while it may be true that he and her mother had been cohorts, the only thing that he had confessed to had been how they founded Proctor Meats.
If she were all the way honest with herself, it was the principle of the thing, wasn't it? He was a known criminal that couldn't be proven guilty, and she was a prosecutor. Being on opposing sides was the obvious answer. But removing the labels, Alison could come to terms that he had been someone close to her mother. He had helped her survive in this brutal world. She sighed heavily. "… If I agree to meet you, would you stop with the phone calls? I mean, it's three in the morning. Getting a little bit ridiculous, don't you think?"
"Only determination worked for your mother. It stands to reason that it would work for the daughter as well," Proctor said.
Alison rolled her eyes. If anyone asked her, she would blame drowsiness. "The only reason I'm agreeing to this is because of my mother," she told him. "I want to know the truth. No implications or cryptic phrases. I want to know."
"Even if the truth is not what you want to hear? Even if… our talk must go off the record?" Proctor questioned. "Would you consider meeting me with no strings attached?"
Alison bit her lip, pondering. Admittedly, it would be an opportunity to get something viable from him. Even if their titles were to be removed, the fact remained the same that Proctor was still a bad man. Her sense of justice couldn't be removed. Still… It wasn't as though she had to be the one to put him away. All things considered, she could ignore her job title in favor of something personal. "No strings," she repeated. "I'll meet with you as myself. How's Sunday?"
"Sunday's perfect. We can meet some place public if you'd like."
"I know where you live," Alison stated, flatly. She shook her head, already regretting her decision to meet with him. Why would he possibly think she wanted anyone else to know about this? "Expect me some time after noon. And before you get any shady ideas, I'll tell a few people where I'm going on Sunday, so just in case I'm not back at a certain time…" She trailing off, leaving him to fill in the blanks.
"Your mistrust wounds me, Alison," Proctor said. "I promised your mother that I'll make sure no harm comes to you. I meant it. Any means necessary."
"Save the smooth talk for Sunday, Proctor," she retorted. "And just so you know, this doesn't mean we're on the way to a strong relationship. I still don't like you." Pressing her lips together, she pulled her cell phone from her ear, and then tapped the red icon on her screen to end the call. It had been a hasty movement on her part. Really, most of her had wanted to take back the agreement to meet. It had never been a good idea to be in a room with Kai Proctor. Alison sighed heavily again, slipping her phone into the pocket of her cardigan. More than likely, she would be kicking herself over this little excursion later on, but for now, it was a chance for her to know another side of her mother—maybe give her some understanding why her mother had ran with someone like the most notorious criminal in Banshee.
Alison crossed her arms and began walking back the way she had come. She had gone further than she had expected to. She had only intended to pace on the sidewalk, but ended up just walking. Pressing her lips together, she thought of who she would tell. Gordon, definitely. He would ask questions, but she was certain she could get by being vague. Lena still had her own problems, so she wouldn't be telling her. The Sheriff, maybe…? Risky. Based on their history, Lucas Hood would want her to go for ulterior motives.
One day, Proctor would go down, but Sunday wouldn't be the beginning of that. Alison would go for her mother—nothing else. And then, after that… She would have to see where things went. Honestly, she had gone back and forth with this issue during her time as a prosecutor. Proctor had always been such an elusive bastard. Gordon had almost quit because of it. Once this meeting was done, she would decide what she intended to do in regards to the man that had known a different side of her mother. But until then, she would have to wait and see. Alison anticipated thinking long and hard during the coming weeks. For now, she just wanted much needed relaxation for most of the weekend.
0-0
Calvin had gone on a lot of 'runs' in the past, but this would be the first one he felt hesitant about. Not even his first had been as unsettling. Calvin shut his eyes and released a silent heavy sigh. But this needed to be done. With his fingers clasped hard together, he sat in the backseat of a raggedy dark vehicle, on the way to the address he had received. His brother had been back in town for months. Hiding out in a motel like apartment so that no one would know about his return. And then all of a sudden, he wrecks his attempts at laying low. Threatens to destroy he used to believe in? Kurt had turned into a fool, and this was his just rewards. He should have never come back to Banshee.
The car came to a stop, causing Calvin to open his eyes. Otto, who had been more than willing to come along, had parked a little ways off from the apartment building. He breathed in deeply, and then moved to get out the car, grabbing the tool that would put a stop to his brother's inane intention against the Brotherhood. Otto wanted blood, but he had been convinced that fire was just as bad, maybe worse. But at least, Kurt would survive. Clenching his jaw, Calvin followed the two subordinates towards the green door of his brother's apartment.
Of course, the front door was locked, but he knew that the side door wouldn't be. The front door to these types of apartments locked automatically, but not any other door. And Kurt never locked his doors. In a town like this, most citizens kept their doors unlocked. Made it real easy to just walk in, get the job done, and walk out. Numerous times, unlocked doors worked in their favor. The three men climbed over the wooden fence. Calvin watched Otto open the glass door and slip inside. The large blinds made noise, but he wasn't worried about alerting their target. Kurt had always been a heavy sleeper. Even if they had to break in, his brother would go on dreaming.
Still, they walked as quietly as possible through the apartment, searching for the bedroom. There was a light on in what seemed to a bathroom. Calvin snuck a peek as the other two went into the opposite room. He didn't find Kurt, but he did notice the toilet seat was down. Furrowing his brow, he stared longer than necessary. Then his eyes glanced at the sink. Two toothbrushes. Blue and green. Huh. Kurt was living with someone. That tidbit hadn't been disclosed to him. Calvin narrowed his eyes as he turned and headed into the bedroom. Despite what he saw, Kurt was in bed by himself. Hm. Maybe it was just an old toothbrush.
Standing on opposites of the bed, the two subordinates looked Calvin's way, awaiting the go ahead. He stood a short distance away from the foot of the bed, closer to the window. This was it. There would be no going back after this. Only one way a dog fight ends… So Calvin would have to stop it before it began. This was the only way, he told himself. Kurt had made himself a target, so… this was the only way the little brother could keep his big brother safe. No one would think to go after him after this. Calvin gripped the tool harder, moving it behind his back, before he dipped his chin, giving the signal.
The two immediately grabbed on to Kurt's arms, jolting him awake. Despite being a heavy sleeper, his brother had always woken up if it was an aggressive touch or sharp attempt. Something they both got because of their old man, really. Calvin watched his brother struggle underneath the strength of the two men, but with their combined effort, they were able keep him pinned to the bed. Realizing his situation, Kurt turned his eyes to the foot of the bed, causing Calvin to step forward.
Panic, he had expected. Followed closely by false bravado like an animal backed into a corner. Calvin had not expected his older brother to show fear. Kurt's entire body had gone completely rigid as realization kicked in. Then he tried more furiously to escape from the hands that held him down. The movement did him no good, but his eyes, so full of fear, darted around as though frantically searching for something. No weapon would have gotten him out, though. Calvin tilted his head, faintly wondering when the man he had looked up to turned into such a pussy. The night of that fire…? Had that been the turning point? It didn't matter now, though. Kurt was still his brother, and… he had to protect him from his own stupidity. This was the only way.
"I'm disappointed in you, Kurt," Calvin told him. "But the choice is yours to make." He held up the blow torch, eyeing it before turning his attention back to his brother. "If you're gonna wear that cop uniform, you can't wear mine." He pulled the trigger, causing the precise flame to appear. The increased struggling from Kurt was ignored in favor of moving forward. This was the only way, Calvin told himself again as he kneeled on the bed, pressing his hand against Kurt's chest. The only way… Steeling himself and shutting off his emotions, he tilted the flame down towards skin. The only way, Calvin told himself as the flame pierced its target, immediately scarring the large tattoo. The only way, he thought as the sizzling sound enter entered his ears. Still, no matter his convincing…
Calvin would hear his brother's blood-curdling screams for a long time afterwards.
0-0
As she approached the apartment, Alison pulled the set of keys from her pocket. The jangle of keys entered her eyes just as the screech of tires did. She jerked her head up because the sound had startled her. In the dead of the night, there was almost no sounds—no artificial, anyway. Frowning, she watched a vehicle speed down the road. Then shook her head and continued on. Probably just some teenagers out joyriding. It was the start of the weekend. Shaking her head, Alison veered off the sidewalk and headed in a diagonal line towards her car.
She yawned as her fingers found the right key. Oh, good. The night air and that little walk had made her tired. She felt like sleeping for a good ten hours now. She unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped inside. Her nostrils flare as her sense was nearly bombarded with an unfamiliar scent. Cringing, she pulled the key from the lock, and then shut the door behind her. Alison set her keys and cell phone on the table cabinet, looking down the short hallway. The kitchen light wasn't on… She shrugged off her cardigan and kicked off her shoes. Maybe Kurt had forgotten about a pot of coffee he had made? They had had a pretty distracting conversation before going to sleep, after all. After hanging up her cardigan, she made her way to the kitchen.
Pressing her lips together, she flipped on the light, eyes already focused on where the coffee maker's place on the counter. The pot was empty. Alison headed over to the counter, eyeing the container. It was clean, too… Frowning, she tilted her head a bit, looking to see if the machine had been left on. It had not. The switch indicated that it was powered off. The brush of cool air suddenly caught her attention, causing her to turn her gaze to the right. The large vertical blinds swayed. "Oh…" Maybe the smell had come from outside. Alison walked over to the side door, pushing a few of the blinds away. As expected, the door had been partially opened, allowing the night wind to come through.
Kurt must have left it open before she had come over. With a sigh, Alison shut the sliding door, and then flipped the latch to lock it. With any luck, the smell would go away. She would definitely be turning the fan on the highest setting, though, and keeping the door to the bedroom open. Groaning, Alison turned away from the door, letting the blinds fall back into place, and then headed back to the kitchen's threshold. Her hand pawed at the light switch for a few seconds before actually finding it and turning the light off. Yawning wide, Alison walked down the hallway. As she moved, she realized that the unfamiliar smell had gotten stronger. Unfamiliar had become unpleasant.
Jesus Christ. Maybe it was the ventilation. The closer she got to the bedroom, where most of the vents were, the more foul the stench became. Alison didn't think she would be able to sleep with that smell invading her nostrils. "Kurt…!" she called out, even though the deep sleeper probably hadn't heard. "I think we need to go to my house tonight!" she continued, rounding the corner and into his room. She came to a halt just inside, surprised to see Kurt covered by the sheets. Had he woken up just to cover himself? Shaking her head, Alison turned on the light. Then with a huff on her lips, she moved around the bed to her side. He, of course, hadn't been roused by the sound. Alison leaned forward, knee pressing into the empty side of the bed. Her hand reached for his partially exposed shoulder. "I'll leave without you if you don't wake up," she playfully threatened as she gave him a slight shaking.
Normally, the method of waking him would work. This time, nothing. Tilting her head to the side, Alison called his name again. Then she drew back the sheet that covered his body. Before the sheet had fallen away, it had suddenly clicked in her brain that the smell had gotten overwhelmingly worse—concentrated to this spot. So when she saw the nasty mark on Kurt's chest, she lurched back, gagging on a scream. It was blistered. Peeling. Smelled wretched. There was swelling across his chest, marring the skin into ugly pink and red leather.
Alison clamped a hand over her mouth as the stinging in her eyes became apparent. Suddenly, she wasn't in a bedroom. Suddenly, she was outside, sixteen, watching two monsters viciously beat down her father. She stood, clutching at her chest as the memories flooded her mind, rooting her to the spot. Watching her father beg, watching him bleed… Hearing gleeful laughter from the thugs who had so brutally tortured before turning malevolent eyes on her. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that hadn't stopped the images of her helpless and bleeding father rapidly switching back and forth with Kurt's unmoving scorched body. It was too much. Happening over and over again. Reliving that single moment of helplessness. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. Not again. Not again. Not again.
A soft groan managed to break through the hysteria. Alison flinched, and then cracked her eyes open. No… No, she wasn't… She wasn't a child, crippled in fear. She couldn't afford to be that right now. With a jerk forward, she snapped back to the reality of the situation. Kurt needed her. Swallowing bile, she focused on the angry patch of skin. He had been burned, she realized. Calling out his name, she rushed back over to the bed. Her voice had cracked, and Alison became vaguely aware that her throat was raw like she had been screaming. She crawled on the bed, lifting Kurt's upper body. Carefully, she maneuvered herself behind him. Making sure to avoid the burn, she made him sit upright. Another groan escaped him, but there was no other response.
Alison blindly reached for the cordless phone. It was only then that she realized she had been shaking. Breathing hard, she squeezed her eyes shut again and clutched the phone in her hand. She willed a semblance of levelheadedness. Despite the panic and distress, she knew she needed to be calm. But willing herself to calm down did not stop her finger from trembling as she dialed three numbers. "Jesus Christ… Bunker… Kurt, please stay with me…" Her voice shook just as much. She barely heard the ringing, but finally a female operator picked up the line, asking for the emergency. "I need the paramedics! Now! Um… H-He's burned! He's burned really bad, and uh—his chest… I-I-I need help! Please!"
From there, the conversation blurred into babbling. Hopefully, she had given enough information, but her mind had drifted away. It was a strange, yet not entirely unfamiliar feeling. She was numb—like everything had just shut down, but at the same time, she was hyper aware of touch. Alison could feel herself rocking back and forth, fingertips against Kurt's neck. She could feel his faint pulse. Erratic and slow. She concentrated on that, and stilled every time there was too long of a time between beats. The operator continued speaking, asking her questions in an attempt to keep her on the line. But she couldn't focus on that. The phone pressed hard against her temple as the tears ran down her cheeks. A mantra fell from her lips, accompanying the sniffles in the quiet room. She could feel herself whispering over and over again.
Stay with me…
Stay with me…
Stay with me…
Alison Medding cried until she heard the sirens.
0-0
Billy Raven hadn't known what to expect when his wife had slapped at his chest in order for him to answer his ringing cell phone at nearly four in morning, but it certainly hadn't been rushing out of the house to get to the hospital. That call had jarred all the signs of lethargy because apparently, his partner had landed himself in the operating room—critical condition. Not a lot of information had been given over the phone, so even now as Billy powerwalked to one of the hospital's entrances, he could hear his heart ringing in his ears.
Quickly, he found a nurse's station and asked for the whereabouts of Kurt Bunker. He was still in surgery, and the most that they told him had been that Kurt had been brought in for severe burns, borderline third degree. The nurse told him that the doctor would be able to provide more information once Kurt's condition stabilized. For now, he would have to wait to hear anything more. Billy sighed heavily as he walked towards the waiting room. Could this have anything to do with what happened during Kurt's lunch break?
He had brushed it off, not thinking too much of it because Kurt had handled the confrontation well. Even Brock had been impressed by it. Had those three goons managed to find his apartment? How? Billy should have paid more attention. Kurt had never been proficient at storytelling, but right now those three were the only viable leads in this, and he should have paid attention to see if details had been given. Now, the only thing he could do was wait even though he wanted to start investigating right away.
Billy ran his fingers through his hair. Right. He should call the Sheriff. Hurriedly, he reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out his cell phone. While he had to wait, Lucas and Brock were still on duty. They could start by going to the apartment and seeing if any evidence had been left behind… Just as he was about to dial out, Billy noticed that he wasn't the only one in the enclosed waiting room. There was another person—a woman. Dressed in casual wear, she sat in a chair closest to the corner. With her head bowed, fingers clasped together, and her elbows pressed against her knees, she shook enough that it was noticeable.
Not too uncommon in a hospital, but curiosity sparked. Billy slowly approached her because she seemed familiar despite not seeing her face. She must have heard his footsteps because she went still before slowly lifting her head. Dark brown eyes stared up at him, the whites agitated with red. He recognized her as Alison Medding, the District Attorney of Banshee. He had only met her once a few months back. But that had been a crazy night. She hadn't stepped a foot in the CADI after that. She sniffled once, and then stood up. "Billy," she greeted, obviously recognizing him, too, but to actually call him by his first name had been a bit baffling. Her lips pursed, and Billy saw a certain guilt in her eyes. He could recognize it as a mild form of survivor's remorse... Alison folded her arms over her chest, frowning. "I don't… I still don't know his condition, but um…" She sniffled again, lowering her eyes to the floor. "T-The burn was… on his chest. I-I-I don't know how deep it was, but I'm pretty sure they weren't third degree because it wasn't—it wasn't charred or black, so maybe it's not as bad as…"
Alison kept talking, Billy's brain had short circuited and had stopped processing her words. Under normal circumstances, he would have followed along, but now it felt like his mind was conflicting with itself. In his life, there were few times he had gotten confused. This was another one of those times because what the District Attorney had said had implied something that couldn't have been possible. Half his brain had already reached that impossible conclusion, but the other half swam in denial. "Wait…!" Billy nearly exclaimed, raising his hands. "Who are you talking about?"
"… They didn't tell you when they called? Kurt—he was… He was attacked," Alison stated. "I should have been there…! I was only gone for-" She was the woman with the cell phone. Alison Medding, District Attorney, someone that the Sheriff—and Brock—described as a hard-ass, was the woman with the cell phone. Billy had never been a particularly vulgar type of person, but-
"Fuck me!" he squealed, unable to contain his shock at the revelation. All this time…? Wow. He would have never guessed. For obvious reasons. If he were honest, he had pictured the woman with the cell phone as a blonde. Pale skin with dark ink. Not the same ink, but they had to have some type of foundation—some type of understanding or common ground—for their relationship's start, right? This woman in front of him, who Kurt obviously loved, was a far cry from Billy's original image. Alison's mouth snapped shut, and she furrowed her eyebrows. Billy cleared his throat, feeling heat rise to his face. He shook his head, holding up a pacifying hand. "No, sorry, ignore that." The District Attorney showed a frown, but didn't comment. Billy cleared his throat again, dropping his hand to his side. "Walk me through this. Help me understand what happened. From the beginning. You two were at his apartment?"
Alison released a long, shuddering breath as she shut her eyes. Billy, sympathizing, guided her back to take a seat. From the look of her, it might have been better if she sat. Wired, but at any moment could collapsed from exhaustion. He sat down on the chair next to her, waiting for her breaths to even out. "Yes…" she finally answered, opening her eyes. She bit her lower lip, gaze focused on her thighs. Alison must have called it in, but… if Billy's earlier predictions had been right, the guys that had tried to provoke Kurt on his lunch break would not have left her alone. If they had seen her, this could have easily been a homicide. "We were sleeping, but I woke up."
"What made you wake up?" Billy questioned. "Did you hear something?"
"No, I…" Alison sighed. "I just had to go to the bathroom. After I finished, I heard my cell phone ringing. I answered it, and went outside to take the call." She shook her head. "I walked away from the apartment, just a little bit down the street. I couldn't have been gone for more than-" Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "-Ten minutes…? And then I went back and-and found him like that." She bowed her head, pressing her lips hard together and squeezing her eyes shut.
"You didn't see anything strange? Maybe you left the door unlocked?" Billy suggested.
"No," Alison replied, and then sniffled. "The door locks automatically when its shut. The side door was opened, but I… I thought Kurt had done it. I didn't think anything of it."
"Okay, that's good…!" he told her. "We might be able to pull some fingerprints and get the ones who did this." The District Attorney frowned again, rubbing her cheeks with both hands. "Hey, we are going to catch them. I'm going to call the Sheriff and he and Brock are going to start by going over to his apartment." She gave a slight nod. "So who called you?" Alison stiffened, nearly jerking away from him. Odd reaction.
"That doesn't matter," she said.
"It might," Billy replied. "It might not be a coincidence that you took that call right before the home invasion."
"No, that's-!" Alison blinked, and then realization slowly trickled onto her expression. Barely noticeable, signs of anger appeared in her dark brown eyes. Then she fixed her face into neutral. Cold. She shut down. "That's not important." She breathed out. "Just a business call—it doesn't matter."
"You normally take business calls so late at night?" Billy pressed.
Alison narrowed her eyes before sharply turning her gaze elsewhere. She had looked murderous. "I said it doesn't matter," she repeated. "It won't help you find the bastards that burned him. It must have been more than one because Kurt would have fought back. There would have been signs of a struggle, but there weren't. It was like-" Her teeth clenched. "-He must have been held down while someone else burned him. You do your job and find them… And I'll do mine." Billy could tell he would not get anything further on that late night 'business' phone call. Maybe she was right that it had nothing to do with the home invasion. Maybe it had only been a coincidence, after all. But the way she obviously intended to hide it meant that she thought it did have something to do with his partner being attacked. For now, though, he wouldn't be able to do anything about that.
"Alright…" Billy said. "I'll… call Sheriff Hood right now." He stood up from the chair and moved away from her. Letting out a soft sigh, he couldn't help but think Alison… Well, he had seen that look she had given a lot back on the reservation. It came from those who were determined to take the law into their own hands. No. It couldn't be that, could it? Alison was sharp. To be the District Attorney, she would have to be. She must realize that someone of her position—her complexion, to be perfectly honest—wouldn't willingly get involved in something like this. Not by themselves, at least. And Alison seemed determined to remain tight-lipped. There wasn't much she could do, regardless. Nothing but to wait for the police to make their arrests.
Hopefully, it would be soon. Sighing to himself, Billy dialed the memorized number of the Sheriff's office. He had to ignore the slight nagging of his instincts to persist with getting all the facts from Alison, and not just about this particular incident. Everything pertaining to Kurt, actually. One day, he would hear the full story of those two, but for now, Billy's priority would have to be focused on finding the bastards that had gone after one of their own. He listened to the ringing as most of his thoughts went out to his partner. The man had made his way out of scum. To think he might not make it through the rest of his life now after turning it around…? It would be unfair. "Come on, Bunk," Billy thought just as the line picked up. "You can make it through this."
"This is Hood," his boss greeted.
"Sheriff, we have a situation here… It's Bunker."
0-0
Rebecca heard shouting. It had been going on for a good five minutes. Visitors weren't uncommon to her uncle's residence, so she had thought nothing of it when she had heard the doorbell. She had remained in her room, reading over dossiers she had compiled. So far, the information was, at best, menial—not at all enough to help her uncle, but she would have to start somewhere. As her uncle had told her, she didn't know everything. But she would eventually, and become better equipped to assist in his endeavors. For now, though, she had to remain patient. Anyway, this particular visitor seemed to have the audacity of God. Rebecca had never heard anyone yell at her uncle.
Narrowing her eyes, she slid off her bed, leaving the documents on her bed. No one ever ventured in her room, so they were safe for the moment. Maybe the conversation hadn't started off bad, but it had certainly escalated enough disturb Rebecca's thoughts. She quietly opened the door to her bedroom. The shouting became louder. Briefly, she thought about Clay Burton. Surely, he would have put a stop to whoever had the nerve to yell at her uncle. Despite his faults, the impassive man had an unwavering loyalty, and would not allow such disrespect. Most likely, Burton was not home—still running about on a Sunday afternoon, completing the tasks that her uncle may have assigned.
Rebecca made her way down the hall, bare feet lightly touching the rug covered floor. The closer she got to the stairs, the better she could make out the voice. It belonged to a woman, and she was clearly hysterical. As she went down the stairs, she pieced together words. It sounded as though the woman was demanding something of her uncle. Frowning, she stopped at the bottom of the steps. Assumingly, they were in the den. Rebecca pressed her back against the wall right before the threshold. Maybe she shouldn't be eavesdropping, but… "You are being unreasonable, Alison," her uncle sounded calm despite the seemingly irate female. Rebecca blinked, surprised. Alison Medding…? The District Attorney? "What makes you so certain that I had anything to do with what happened to your Deputy?"
"So it was a complete coincidence that you call me, out of the blue, so late at night, and our conversation lasted just long enough for those monsters to-" Rebecca could hear her ragged breathing from where she stood. Clearly, the topic of conversation wasn't a trivial thing. Alison didn't seem the type of woman who would become distraught, especially in the presence of someone like her uncle. "Look, Proctor, I could care less how you knew beforehand. But I know damn well that did know about it. Any means necessary to keep me from harm, isn't that what you said? Isn't that what you promised my mother?"
Her uncle did not give a verbal response to those questions, but Rebecca's lips parted in surprise. Admittedly, she hadn't thought about her uncle's past relationship with the woman formerly known as Arita Morgan recently. It had been brushed to the far reaches of her mind, including thoughts of Alison, to be honest. But a promise like that…? It was a debt. She had only heard of one other debt her uncle had had. She had stumbled across that information as well, and it had dealt with a man known as Sugar Bates. Funds were regularly transferred to the man's bar. So even if business wasn't doing well, it would stay afloat. No, she didn't know the reason behind her uncle's sentiment, but she realized that it must have been a debt.
Burton later confirmed it for her, though it had taken some convincing. And now, apparently, there was another debt. Arita Morgan must have had done something incredible to cause her uncle to keep a promise like that. Unfortunately, Burton wouldn't be much help in the details of that because he hadn't been around at the time of their partnership. It would probably be tricky to find the reason for such a promise, but the curiosity had returned. Perhaps one day Rebecca would look further into the woman, but for now, she would focus on the beneficiary of such a promise.
"And I'm guessing, had I not taken your call, harm would have been the least that they would have done to me if they had found me in bed with him," Alison continued. "I'm not asking for confirmation of your knowledge to what they did. What I want is a number and their names."
"Just what would you do with that information? It would be inadmissible in court, worthless to you," her uncle replied. This time, it was Alison that chose not to response. "Ah… So you intend to regress back to the recklessness of your youth, do you?"
"What I do with the information is none of your concern," Alison retorted. "Give me the names of the men that burned Kurt or I swear to any god listening that I won't stop until you are in jail for the rest of your life."
"… As I said before, I cannot help you. I advise you not to proceed with this foolishness. If you want them, let the police investigate and make their arrest. Have them in court and take them down the right way as you have been doing. Like an adult."
"Monsters don't deserve the right way," Alison said. "And you should be grateful I don't put you in that same category. Don't talk to me like you're my father." Hm. That was a strange place to put an emphasis on, Rebecca commented in her head. "But fine. You've clearly made your choice. The next time you hear from me will be in court. Don't call me again, Proctor."
Rebecca pursed her lips, pressing herself harder against the wall. The sharp clacks of the woman's heels entered her ears, alerting her of Alison's pending departure. Seconds later, the District Attorney walked beyond the threshold, unaware of Rebecca's presence. She stared at the woman's back, contemplating. Her uncle may have given a dismissive response, as expected, really, but Alison's final words had been too concerning for her. A woman in her position—it hadn't been an idle threat. It had been a vow. A month later, and Rebecca could still remember the tingles she felt from the power the woman had exuded. A determined woman like that would make good on her threats.
So without another thought, Rebecca went after Alison. The woman had already gone through the front door. Rebecca had barely caught it before it shut. "DA Medding…!" she called out to her. Alison sharply turned, having just opened the door to her car. Rebecca halted on the porch. The look on her face was near feral. Rebecca pursed her lips, feeling her nerves clench. Then Alison regained her composure, and then calmly asked what she wanted. Rebecca swallowed hard, steeling herself. "My uncle may not be able to part with the information you seek, but I see no harm in giving you what you want."
"You're going to help me, Ms. Bowman?" Alison asked, clearly skeptical.
"I have the means and opportunity to do so," Rebecca easily replied. "I have acquired a few resources since the last time we spoke. I am… confident that I can get you what you need. For a favor. My uncle—he's off limits. Never pursue him legally, and I'll get you those names." Alison regarded her with cool, calculative eyes.
"Just because I wouldn't prosecute him doesn't mean he'd be safe from the law," she told her.
"As if anyone else would be competent enough," Rebecca remarked. "I think we both know how effective you are."
"Why would you help me? Do you even know what this is about?"
"It doesn't really matter what it's about," she replied. "All I know is that you're desperate—enough to come into the belly of the beast." A smirk formed on her face. "Our circumstances have reversed quite neatly, wouldn't you agree?" Alison didn't respond to the slight taunt. "What do you say? I get the information you want and you leave my uncle alone. Deal?"
"..." The woman's incisor grazed her lower lip and turned her eyes elsewhere for a moment. "If you can't deliver, Proctor's not the only one I'm coming for. Everyone that lives under this roof will go down. You might look the part, but you're far from innocent, aren't you?"
"That makes two of us, doesn't it?"
For a long moment, the District Attorney merely stared. "There was a home invasion recently. A deputy got hurt, and I can't rely on the Sheriff's department to bring the ones who did it in. So get the names of the people who did it. Only then will we have a deal." Alison frowned, and then climbing into her car. Within moments, the car drove away. Rebecca watched until the back of the vehicle could no longer been seen. A heavy, but silent breath fell from her lips. Perhaps there would come a day where she would have that same intimidating presence, instead of just playing at it, but for now, she had to do what she could. And this… deal with Alison Medding could be the first step into coming into her own power. A stepping stone, perhaps. But it was a wonder… What would make a woman like that become so desperate? Still, Rebecca would get the information for her.
Almost a week later, she personally handed the District attorney three names and two addresses.
0-0
With his arms crossed over his chest, Lucas Hood stood by the window of the hospital room, gaze focused on his deputy. Kurt Bunker had been transferred to the burn unit of the hospital a few days ago. The man was still unconscious. According to the doctors, he was best that he remain unconscious to make it through the worse of the recovery. His lungs had been damaged due to the severe burn, so he had been hooked up to breathing machines, too. Watching him now, the Sheriff couldn't help but think about the last deputy he had been powerless to help.
He clenched his jaw, willing thoughts of Siobhan Kelly from his mind. It still stung, months later. He still had nightmares, really. He normally put on a face during the day, but it wasn't like he could shut off his dreams. Eventually, he would succumb to sleep and dream of her… Swallowing, he blinked away the sting of his eyes. He cleared his throat just as the sound of the door opening ripped his gaze away from Bunker. He met the gaze of Alison Medding. Her tired deep brown eyes stared at him for a few seconds, body pausing in the doorway. "Hey," he greeted her. He forced a grin. "Thought I'd find you here."
"Why are looking for me, Sheriff?" she asked.
"Just need to follow up. You weren't at work—haven't been for the past couple days," he stated.
"Forgive me for taking liberties with my perfect attendance," Alison countered. She visibly swallowed before her gaze darted to the unconscious man. It had been more than a month, and it was still mind-reeling that Kurt Bunker and Alison Medding were a thing. Not just any thing—lovers. Even someone like Job would be speechless if he knew. "What do you want?"
"Like I said—following up with what happened," he said. He glanced down, noting her bandaged hands and wrists. "How'd that happen?" He nodded to the white cloth. Alison stiffened, but it had been a subtle action. If he hadn't been looking for it, he probably wouldn't have noticed. The woman lifted her hands, fingers of her left hand pinching at the bandages of her right.
"Was moving furniture around," she said. "Tripped on a rug and went right through my glass coffee table. Sprained my wrist pretty bad, too."
"… Ouch," he commented.
"That's what the doctor said," Alison murmured drily. Huh. A lie. "So… What's the following up? What's this about? I already told Billy everything for the official report."
"Yeah, we got that," he stated. "This is something different. Yesterday, we got a call about a home invasion. Thought it might be connected to what happened to Bunker because… well, their tattoos weren't exactly family friendly." Alison's expression remained stoic at the news. "They weren't burned, though. They were beaten. So bad, in fact, that for a while there, it seemed like they wouldn't make it through the night. Bloody, broken bones, bruises all over. It was a rampage. Angry and personal. Initially, we thought someone was targeting guys with those type of tattoos. But then Brock managed to ID one of them. Some asshole named Otto. Wasn't the nicest guy, but he tried provoking Bunker on the night that he was burned." He shrugged his shoulders, putting on a wry smile. "Got me thinking—maybe the connection is actually a retaliation for what happened to Bunker. That's my working theory, anyway. What do you think?"
"…" Alison licked her lips, looking elsewhere for a moment. Her right eyebrow cocked up before she returned her attention back to him. "Pardon my bias, Sheriff, but I don't care about that. This… Otto… you got proof that he did it—that he burned Kurt?"
"Nope. None."
"Then don't come at me with circumstantial evidence. Find something solid so that you can make your arrest and not have my office breathing down your neck."
"Alright. I hear you." He stared at her a moment longer before heading towards the door. He stopped just before leaving. "All I'm saying is… whoever's doing this could start a war. Maybe they should quit while they're ahead."
"Yeah? And what did you do with that advice when you first came to town?"
"… I'll be seeing you around, Alison. Take care." The District Attorney did not respond to his parting words. He turned around to find that she had taken a seat on the far side of the room. Gaze focused solely on Bunker as he lay in bed. Her frown and furrowed brow wrinkled her face as she watched him. Her hand grasped his limp one, intertwining their fingers together. His and hers. Inked and bandaged. She was really broken up over this. Seeing it with his own two eyes—it hadn't been just a random, we got drunk and slept together and it just kept happening without the alcohol type of thing. When asked, Kurt had only remained tight-lipped about it, but it was clear to see that there was a deep connection between them. It didn't take a genius to reach for her as a suspect because of it.
Well, if he hadn't known better, he would have never come to the conclusion that Alison would—could—do something as vicious as the beat down those skinheads had been the victim of. He had known better, though. More than a month ago, at Camp Genoa, everyone who had died had been shot… except one. Beaten to death had been the cause, not bullets. At the time, he hadn't thought too much of it, but after seeing Otto, and that other one, lying up in the hospital clinging to their lives by a thread, he had started to connect the dots. He had seen some pretty outrageous shit in Banshee, Pennsylvania. It stands to reason that the District Attorney could be as malicious as the next guy. Learn something new every day in this town. Keeping a sigh to himself, the man known as Lucas Hood walked out of the room, hoping to hell that Alison's rampage was over.
0-0
One last time.
Alison released a long breath as she pressed the button to open her garage door. She watched as the electronic door as it moved, but her mind was elsewhere. One last time. Maybe she wouldn't feel so damn angry afterwards. Clenching her jaw, she moved over to her motorcycle, taking the clicker with her. To think it had been his own brother. When Rebecca Bowman had given her those names, she hadn't imagined that Calvin Bunker would have been among the list. He actually burned his own brother. Kurt had been so confident, and had paid for it. Alison breathed harshly through her nose. One last time. She hooked the clicker around the silver part of the handle, and then reached for her helmet. Just as she was about to slip it over her head, she noticed the faint spatter of last night's activities.
Her teeth gnashed together so hard that it was almost painful. Then she breathed slowly, in and out, until her body relaxed. They had deserved, she told herself. For doing what they had done. They had deserved it. Alison rubbed away the smudge with her thumb, making a mental note to thoroughly clean the helmet after she returned home. She was certain that the Sheriff already had his suspicions… Still, she had to do this. Had to. One last time. Closing her eyes, she prepared to slide the helmet on. However, her cell phone vibrating in her back pocket stopped her movements. With a sigh, she set the helmet down on the seat, and then reached into the pocket of her jeans with her left hand.
Sighing softly, she glanced at the screen. She recognized the number, but was surprised to see it. With everything that has been going on recently, she had pretty much shut everything else out. Right now, her vendetta was the priority. Her eyes shifted, focusing on the time. She had a limited window, but maybe she could take the call just to find out why she was being called. As long as she reached that empty stretch of road before 6:10, then she could still do what needed to be done. Deciding, she slide her thumb against the green icon and answered, stopping the vibration of the device. "This is Alison," she greeted after pressing the phone to her ear.
"Ms. Medding," the voice of a woman returned. "We have news. Are you able to come into today?"
"Uh, no, actually—I have something to do," she stated. "But I'll come back tomorrow."
"I-I'm afraid this is urgent. We would like to speak with you today."
"You can't tell me right now?"
"… It would be better if-"
"Just tell me now," Alison cut in.
Then she did… and it changed everything.
The longer she listened to the woman, the harder it became to breathe. Finally, her arm dropped from, pulling the cell phone away from her ear. Alison could still hear the woman talking, but it had become background noise to her own hammering heart. Jesus Christ. She clutched at her chest with her free hand while her fingers gripped the cell phone hard enough to recognize it as painful. "Kurt…" Alison clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. "Fuck…! Fuck!" Unthinking, she kicked out, managing to knock the bike over. The sound of the impact against the cement floor, jolted her from the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her completely.
"Ms. Medding…? Ms. Medding, are you still there? I know that this news is-"
Breathing in deeply, Alison held the phone back up to her ear. "I'm still here," she said, nearly whispering. "I…" She opened her eyes, trying to blink back the stinging. "I'm coming in right now." The woman hummed anxiously as though unsure of respond, and then cautiously confirmed that they would see her soon. Alison listened to the click of the receiver, and then the beep her of cell phone, which indicated the call had been disconnected. She stood there for a moment, frozen and numb. And then everything hit her all at once. A strangled sob jumped from her mouth as her knees buckled. She fell to the floor, phone slipping from her grasp. Her shoulders shook, trying desperately to hold in tears, but to no avail. Despite a voice hissing at her, urging her to go to him, Alison remained on the floor of her garage and just cried. And cried. And cried. There would be no one last time.
And so Calvin Bunker would make it home safely.
Unaware of how close he had been to the wrath of a monster.
0-0
Two weeks later, Alison found herself in Kurt's room. She sat in a chair, staring blankly at the floor. She had been in this position for about an hour now. She supposed she was hoping for the man to wake up. Truthfully, he might have been up a few weeks ago, but… there had been complications with his lungs. The burn had gone deeper than the doctors had initially thought, so… He almost hadn't made it. He had almost died during surgery, they had told her. Because of that scare, they wouldn't be waking him up until they were certain Kurt would be able to breathe on his own, and now they had him strapped to the bed in an upright position to relieve pressure from his chest. She hated it. Seeing him this way, she hated it, but her anger had been subdued already. Now, she was… just resigned.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she breathed in through her nose. Enough was enough. She had been stalling for a while now. It was time. Alison tilted her head up, eyes finding Kurt's barely moving form. Her bit her lower lip, watching him. If it hadn't been for the breathing tubes and the large gauze on his chest, she would think that he was only sleeping. She could just imagine him waking up and smiling at her. Alison pressed her lips together. The faint beeping of his heart monitor had been dreadful to listen to these last few weeks. She wished he would just wake up, so she could make sure he understood… why she had to do this. But if wishes were poppy…
Alison stood from the chair, and then slowly made her way over, hand already poised to reach for him. Her fingertips slid up his right arm as she moved closer, and then back down, fingers curling around his hand. "I know you can't hear me…" she began in a soft voice. "But I… need to say this out loud. I guess to completely solidify what I need to do." Voice barely a whisper, Alison stared down at her Kurt, willing herself continue. She clenched her teeth, frowning. "Kurt… I messed up… and now, I can't stay here." Of course, he didn't respond to her statement. Gordon had been speechless, too. For several moments. And then the interrogation had begun. However, Alison had held firm and had been as vague as possible with her answers. In the end, the Mayor had accepted her resignation. Kurt, however, wouldn't be able to argue or interrogate. "Believe me—I don't want to go. I don't, but I'm-I'm afraid." She tilted her head to the right, gaze shifting away from him for a moment.
It was an embarrassing feeling. Fear. Maybe she had gotten that mindset somewhere along the way after Proctor had raised her to be an unfeeling lethal weapon. Or after she had tasted stolen power for herself. From whatever point, she had become unafraid of dangers, regardless of how big or small. But now… Real fear had been instilled within her. And that fear overpowered her desire to stay in Banshee. Her desire to stay with Kurt. Alison shut her eyes again, sniffing harshly and then releasing a shaky exhale. In the end, her decision had been the only option. Especially since she wasn't sure of the time limit. She had already given her resignation. She had already packed up her house. She had already come to terms that this—what she had built in this town—was over.
"With the way things are now, I can't stay," Alison continued, squeezing his hand. Her wrist had been sprained before, but the pain of squeezing was nothing in comparison to the squeezing of her heart. "And I can't wait until you wake up and recovery either. I'm sorry, Kurt." Out of everything she had to leave behind, leaving him in this state weighed the heaviest. She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his temple. "I love you." Blinking back tears, she reared back, slipping her hand away from his. The first time she had uttered those words out loud, and he hadn't heard. It was frustrating, but she could only accept it. This was her reality now.
A tear escaped her eyes, and Alison hurriedly reached up to swipe at her cheek. Sniffing, she turned away from the unconscious man, facing the nearby counter table. His other visitors, Billy, Lucas and Brock, obviously—surprisingly, Carrie Hopewell and Sugar Bates—had left behind get well gifts. Flowers that were on the verge of wilting, balloons steadily losing helium, a small gift basket, and a teddy bear. The bear had been an inside joke, Billy had told her. He had tried to explain it, but… she hadn't been in the mood for jokes at the time. Still, the gifts had shown how far Kurt had come. People cared about him in some form or another. And he would see that the instant he woke up.
Alison reached inside her long strapped purse, which hung from her left shoulder, and pulled out the carefully written card. She had fretted over the right words to write nearly all of yesterday night. It wasn't great, but hopefully it would be enough. Sighing, she placed the folded card among the rest of the gifts, propped against the teddy bear's leg. Alison then turned to face Kurt one last time. "I hope… you can forgive me," she said. Shifting her weight uneasily, she stood in place for a moment, merely watching. But she had stalled for long enough, and so, forcing her line of sight away from him, she headed towards the door. Upon opening the door, she spared another glance at Kurt Bunker, the man who had made her fall in love with him. A bittersweet smile, as small as it was, crossed her face. "Goodbye, Kurt."
With that farewell, Alison Medding walked out of his life.
0-0
In the dead of night, she slipped into the hospital room. She had moved quietly and carefully to remain undetected by the staff. Visiting hours were over, but this timeframe was the only way she could actually come see him. Honestly, it would be the only time she would attempt to. She needed to see for herself what Calvin had done. He had been vague and closed off from the explanation. Unsurprisingly, really. They were still brothers no matter what happened. He must have felt uneasy about teaching Kurt a lesson.
The security about this time was lax at best, so it had been easy to navigate to his room. Actually, it had been easy to find his room, too. There had been no one at the nurse's station—obviously, on a break. It had given her enough time to spy the visitor's log and rip the page from the rest of the book. 308 was the room number Kurt was stationed in. Surprisingly, the man had had more visitors than anticipated. She had expected one, to be honest, and had expected it to be of the professional variety—a common courtesy type of thing. However, there had been multiple sign-ins for the same room. The lot of them only used their initials. Like BR, AM, LH. One signature had been chicken scratch, while another one had the neat penmanship of Brock Lotus. One had only wrote down 'Bates.' Sounded familiar, but she didn't know why. Right now, she chose not to dwell on it.
She hadn't expected someone like Kurt, a man who's top half was covered in ink, to have friends. But it didn't matter. Not really. She would erase them all eventually. Her hazel, mostly blue, eyes darted towards the man strapped to the bed. His chest had been wrapped with medical dress, and apparently he needed the assistance of machines to keep breathing, judging by the tubes in his mouth. Calvin had burned him good, it appeared. She had heard of some burn victims having to 'lay' upright because of extreme cases in order to recovery properly.
Kurt had brought them on himself, though. After almost six years, he had come back, only to publically display his association with the wrong side. A cop, of all things. He should have just never returned. It would have been easier. But he hadn't, and had taken foolish actions against his own brother. A turncoat. Narrowing her eyes, she walked by his bed, focusing on the assortment of gifts. Unexpected, but not relevant in the long run.
Despite him being a turncoat, he still had so much potential. So many years ago, before he had fled like a coward, he had been one of the best. Everyone had known it, and looked to him to be… second. If not for that botched plan, Kurt might have been second. He would have taken the reins and led them all properly in the absence of the leader. The leader had made it abundantly clear that if Kurt had ever returned to Banshee, he would need to be brought back into the fold, no questions asked. But the stupid man had gone and become a cop. It made things difficult, but not impossible. She would follow the order using any means. Calvin put up a good front, but the reality was that he needed his brother. So despite her own feelings on the matter, she would bring Kurt back. Her father, the imprisoned leader, had wanted it as well, after all.
And so, she set to work getting rid of the mementos. She quietly popped the balloons and threw the remains, as well as the flowers, into the trash. She thought about tossing the teddy bear, too, but… perhaps she would keep it for Hank. Tucking it under her arm for now, she eyed the get well soon card. The cover of the card was simple enough of a flowery design. Most get well cards were. She opened the card, eyes scanning over the handwritten words. Her lips parted in surprise, and then she narrowed an accusing gaze on the unconscious man. Not just friends, but a significant other, too? Someone, outside their right way of thinking, had gotten close enough to share themselves with him? A huff left her mouth, mildly annoyed, before turning her attention back to the card.
As she finished reading, though, she realized what the words on the card meant. It was perfect. This would do the job far better than mere 'friends' would. A hard smile crossed her face as she looked back at Kurt once more. The message had been signed with only the letter G. She wondered who the woman was, but it didn't really matter. She had found Kurt's weakness, and she would be take full advantage. All to ensure the wishes and desires of her husband and father. "I'll be seeing you real soon, Kurt."
Maggie Bunker curled her fingers, crushing the parting message in her hand.
0-0
