Hank Bunker was smart.
At least, that was what his teacher always praised him for. Good student. Fast learner. Reading level higher than his classmates. His mom always seemed proud of that. She bragged whenever the chance happened. His dad kept quiet about it, though. He seemed more interested in Hank's rising skill for basketball. He had started young because it happened to be his dad's favorite sport. No matter how dirty it had gotten. Hank did not understand what his dad meant by dirty. Anyway, truthfully, he would rather read, but his dad smiled big whenever he dribbled a ball. And he liked seeing his mom and dad smile big. So, Hank split his time learning both mentally and physically.
More often, though, Hank chose to read. Like now. There was nothing else to do. Most kids had been picked up by their parents already, which left Hank and a few others. He would have liked playing with the rest, but his mom did not like it. One day, she had caught him tossing a basketball around with the other kids, and she had been upset with him for the rest of the day. They're not like you, she had said. You're better than them. They're bad, Hank. True, he could spell big words better than most, but his mom could not have known that. They were actually pretty nice during class, too. Not bad at all. She did not explain, though, so it left Hank feeling confused. Still, he chose not to play while waiting. Just in case she caught him again.
His mom was late. Normally, it only took half a book on his tablet for the minivan to appear. But now, he was nearing the end. He knew because he had read this book many times already. It was not one of his favorites, but Naomi had liked it. He liked reading to her. He did not like stumbling over his words in front of her, though, which made him practice. A smile came across his face at the thought of his friend. She was a baby—or toddler—but it was fun to play with her, too. Hank looked forward to Fridays and Saturdays. He always had—because he spent time with his uncle—but now he could play games with more people. Ms. Alison and her daughter were both fun.
Hank liked going over to his uncle's house even more now. Teaching someone how to play games was nice. Unlike his uncle, Ms. Alison and Naomi actually learned quickly. His uncle told him newer technology confused him. Hank remembered teasing his uncle because of that. Ms. Alison teased him, too, but his uncle never got mad about it. Actually, his uncle smiled more. More than a few times, Hank had heard his uncle laugh. Normally so calm, it had been a surprise to hear. Naomi made him laugh. He gave affection to Naomi like… like Hank's mom gave to him. Kisses and hugs. Actually, Hank wanted that from his uncle, too, so sometimes he would head-butt his uncle for a forehead kiss. His uncle always laughed and complied. Hank liked his uncle's softer side. And the way he smiled at Ms. Alison was the same way his dad smiled at his mom. It was like being with a second family. A second family Hank found himself a part of.
"Hank!" The boy lifted his gaze from his tablet to see his mom moving towards him with a smile on her face. Hank smiled in returned, immediately standing. As usual, his mom wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug and pressed multiple kisses to his cheek. Hank laughed as his mom released him. She gave him another smile, taking the tablet from his hand. Dutifully, Hank turned so that she could slip the tablet in his backpack. "Sorry I'm late, but mom had to take care of a few errands beforehand, but it looks like you were a good boy while you waited." She turned him around, big smile on her face. His mom looked like an angel. "I'll tell dad what a good boy you were. Maybe he'll bring you home a present as a reward. Would you like that?" Hank enthusiastically nodded his head. His dad brought home the best presents. "I thought so, but for now, there's someone I'd like you to meet. He's brought you a present, too."
Hank scrunched his eyebrows closer together as he took his mom's hands. They approached the van, and as if waiting for that, the passenger side door opened. A man Hank had never seen before stepped out. In his hands, he clutched a white stuffed bear. The man—visibly older despite his bulkiness—smiled down at Hank. "Now, who might you be?" he asked. Hank squeezed his mom's hand tighter, forcing himself not to hide behind her. This man—stranger—had a scary presence. Honestly, though, he had felt the same upon meeting his uncle the first time.
Noticing his hesitance, his mom pulled him forward like she was presenting him to the man. "Hank, this is your grandfather. He's been wanting to meet you," she said. Oh. Another relative. Maybe he wasn't as scary as Hank first thought. This man—his grandfather—smiled again, extending the plush toy in his direction. Hank had never met his grandparents. Other kids in school talked about their grandparents taking them fishing or baking cookies, spoiling them rotten. Actually, he had been jealous of them. Just a little. From the sounds of it, grandparents tended to shower their grandkids with gifts and treats. "He's going to be staying with us for a while," his mom continued. "So be nice to each other."
"Don't coach the boy about family," the man said. "Family looks out for family. It's innate within us. He knows family takes care of each other." He, his grandfather, lowered himself so that he was eye level. Hank's grip on his mom's hand loosened. His grandfather spoke the truth. He had heard the truth many times. Family was everything. From his dad. From his mom. From his uncle. With how many times he had heard it, the concept of family had become valued. He knew it meant a lot. "Isn't that right, Hank?" Slowly, he nodded his head in response. "Here, I got you something." His grandfather held the stuffed animal out again.
"I… I already have a stuffed bear," Hank told him.
"Hank!" his mom said his name, both disappointed and scolding. Hank ducked his head and lowered his gaze to the ground. "You don't refuse gifts, especially from family."
"S-Sorry," he apologized. He had not meant to refuse the gift from his grandfather. He had only told the truth. Suddenly, his backpack felt heavier. Because along with his homework, he had both his own stuffed bear and Penny. Penny was a stuffed penguin that belonged to Naomi. Hank had accidently packed it away with his things the last time he had left his uncle's house. He felt bad about it and planned to give it back to her today, and let her have his stuffed animal for a week to be fair. So, he could sleep with his grandfather's gift while Naomi had his bear. "Thank you, grandfather," Hank said, holding his hand out to take the gift. He did not lift his gaze from the ground.
"You're a good boy, aren't you, Hank?" The voice of his grandfather caused Hank to press his lips together. "Now, look at me when I'm talking. You respect your elders." Inside his mouth, Hank clenched his teeth. It took a few seconds, but he managed to look his grandfather in the eye. "That's not the only reason. Never look away from anyone. No matter what you do or say, you look that other person in the eye." His grandfather lifted his arm again, giving the white bear away. It was soft—softer than his own stuffed bear. "Are you a good boy, Hank?" His grandfather repeated the question.
"Yes," Hank replied. He tried to be, at least. Sometimes, time-outs happened. Mostly because of his small squabbles with Naomi. He liked his friend a lot, but sometimes, she could be a baby about everything. "Yes, I'm a good boy. A big boy!" His uncle always told him so. He was a big boy that took care of his friend because she was younger and needed to be protection. That was what his uncle told him.
"That's good," his grandfather praised. "I can tell you're gonna make something of yourself, Hank. Not like your father."
"Daddy…!" His mom turned a frown on her father. "We have to go now. We're already late." His grandfather scoffed lightly. Then, he stood to his full height. His mom looked shorter in comparison, but she did not back away. "Kurt's waiting." The pinched look vanished from his grandfather's face. He opened his mouth, but his mom tugged at Hank's hand and walked towards the van. "We can discuss it on the way." Hank noticed the way his mom's lips twitched. He did not think she noticed she did that when angry. Hank had seen it a few times. His mom opened the side door and immediately picked him up. Usually, he would complain. He was a big boy that could climb into the seat by himself. But today he kept quiet. "Hank, honey, I want you to read your book, okay? Can you do that for me?" she asked as she fastened his seatbelt.
"Yeah," Hank answered. His mom gave him a pretty smile, and then reached into his backpack that she had sat on the floor. She handed him his tablet, kissed his cheek, and then backed out of the van and shut the door. Soon, they were off, driving to Uncle Kurt's house. Hank could not wait. Maybe he could read half another book by the time his mom stopped driving. Hank settled comfortably in his seat, intending to pick up where he left off. But the deep voice of his grandfather was distracting.
"Even after all these years, I still can't understand why you chose the wrong brother," he grumbled. Hank kept his eyes on the tablet, but his ears twitched, opened and listening. "One's obviously more capable than the other."
"Daddy, we are not going to talk about my marriage again." His mom's voice came out sharply, like when she had to tell him to pick up his toys more than three times. Grandfather would be in trouble and forced into the time-out corner if he didn't listen. "Everything is fine."
"If everything was fine, you wouldn't be picking up the slack," grandfather said, not sounding sorry. "You'd be at home, barefoot and pregnant with my third grandchild already. Hell, maybe the fourth one. But that'd be giving him too much credit." Hank glanced up from the words on his tablet to see his mom's shoulder had become stiff. "If you had married the right one, you'd be at home where you're supposed to be. Cooking and making sure the house is in order. Instead, you're out, making sure his shit is in order."
"Dad!" his mom raised her voice. Grandfather said a bad word. He was definitely going into time-out. And he would have to put a quarter in the swear jar. "Can you please not right now!"
"Fine," grandfather grumbled. "At least you brought Kurt back into the fold. That's all that matters. I'm surprised he hasn't knocked some sense into his brother's head yet."
"… He's not back yet," mom said. "He's getting there, but…" She sighed. "It's taking time. He's resisting. I've been trying to remind him what's most important. Family. But what Calvin did to him-"
"So he blundered something else?" grandfather interrupted. "I'm not surprised."
"Calvin did his best," mom snapped back. "He could have done a lot worse to that turncoat. He should have."
"Magpie, I'm disappointed," grandfather said. "You know Kurt was the best. He would have led you all in my absence. That type of decisive ruthlessness he exuded rarely comes along. Now, you're picking up the pieces trying to rebuild what fell apart."
"He's the reason we fell apart," mom said through clenched teeth. "He's the reason Calvin fell apart." For more than a few seconds, both adults did not speak. Then his mom sighed deeply. "You can talk to him yourself when we get there."
The rest of the car ride, neither his mom nor his grandfather spoke to each other. It was hard to focus on reading after that. It felt like his body was under water, playing a game to see how long he could hold his breath. But this was not a game. It felt bad. Hank knew lots of words, but he could not understand the way his mom and grandfather spoke. Something to do with his uncle, but Hank believed that his mom liked his uncle. She smiled at him enough. Now, her voice seemed upset when talking about him. On the other hand, his grandfather sounded like he liked Uncle Kurt a lot, but… it was a weird type of like. It made Hank tense and icky. Maybe it was because of the mean comments about his dad. Well, Hank thought they were mean comments. His grandfather's voice did not change while he talked, but he still sounded mean. Like Rapunzel's mother, who turned out to be the villain all along.
Ms. Alison always brought over the best movies. Last time, she promised to bring a movie about a little alien becoming a part of a family. How could an alien become a part of a human family, he had wondered. Ms. Alison had shown a nice smile and told him that sometimes the best families could be chosen. His dad said something like that before. He said he would introduce Hank to his other family when he was older. Hank liked the idea of having another family he got to choose. But 'older' was a long way off. Mom said so. And dad usually agreed with mom. So… for now, Hank could be happy with his mom and dad. Oh, and his uncle's family, too. Did he really need to choose a third family? Yawning, Hank settled further in his seat, getting as comfortable as he could for the car ride.
0-0
Kurt could not concentrate. He hovered over the open hood of his truck, staring down at the insides. However, his brain could not recognize the sight in front of him. Christ. He did not know how much time had passed since he had made such a massive mistake. The incident played on a loop, shutting down anything else. He had not realized how much he had missed her lips until they pressed against his again. Fuck. Kurt needed a distraction. Not only was he thinking about how they moved against one another after so long, but he also could not help but think of the consequences. More than anything, he worried that because of his actions, he would not be able to see his daughter again. Thoughts of not watching Naomi grow, admittedly, caused despair. It had only been a short period—a little more than a month now—but he had grown to love his daughter so quickly. To have her just disappear would feel like the world being ripped away from him. What the hell should he do to fix this?
What could he do?
Kurt curled his fingers around the wrench in his hand. The blood rushed from his knuckles, turning them a ghost white. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Calling and speaking to Alison seemed out of the question. It would be harsh confrontation, wouldn't it? One that could end up with no chance of raising Naomi. As it stood, the two of them had signed papers for joint custody. But they had not presented them to the court yet. With the way things had been, they silently agreed they did not need to. Maybe that had been a mistake. In the eyes of the law, he had no rights to his own daughter. In a custody battle, he would be the loser. No other factors would be taken into consideration all because of his appearance. No court would grant him custody. Still, he had to do something to amend this situation. Something that would not result in taking them all to court in the first place. He was at a loss.
For a very long time, Kurt had conditioned himself not to rely on others. After all, leaving The Brotherhood had left him with nothing. No one new that he came across had wanted anything to do with him. Naturally, Kurt withdrew on more than one level. He withheld his own problems and worked through them by himself, learning not to ask for help. But this was a wall he did not think he could overcome by himself. The problem was not solely his despite initiating it. Again, speaking to Alison right now would not be beneficial to either of them. Truthfully, Kurt had another option—someone that could help him through his muddled thoughts. Help had come more than once on various topics, after all.
With a deep breath, Kurt came to a decision. Not exactly a drastic one but it felt like a big step—one he was not used to taking of his own volition. He released the wrench in his hand, noting the blood rushing back to his knuckles. Still leaning over his truck, Kurt reach into the back pocket of his jean and pulled out his cell phone. He quickly scrolled through his contacts—a list that had grown considerably recently—and found the right name. Hesitating only a second more, Kurt pressed his thumb against the screen in order to dial out.
He held the phone up to his ear, listening to the ringing. According to the time, it was a little before 3PM. This might have been the perfect time to call. Right before shift end. Forcing his insides to quell their rapid motions. "Hello." The greeting came after five rings. Near instant, the vibrations of his organs came back. "Hello?" Many thoughts rushed through Kurt's head at once. It felt like any reasonable response clogged in this throat, leaving only the persistent, repetitive thought to erupt.
"I fucked up…!" he blurted. Not how he wanted to begin this conversation, but there it was. Fortunately, Billy Raven did not respond to the horrible greeting. "I did something stupid—something I don't think I can take back—and now, I probably won't ever see my kid again."
"What are you talking about?" Billy questioned, clearly puzzled. "Can you start over? Who is this?" Kurt flushed in embarrassment, immediately closing his mouth. Calling so abruptly like this, of course there was a chance Billy did not know who called him. Especially since they hardly ever communicated over the phone. Even before the… the break in their relationship. It had always been through text. Most likely, his coworker erased Kurt's contact info in the two years they did not speak. "Wow, Bunk! I'm just kidding. Relax," Billy assured as though he could see the discomfiture. "What happened? I've never heard you sound so frantic. Usually, it's just your face. You think you won't see Naomi again?"
Kurt found himself scowling. He was not in the mood for jokes. Maybe calling someone like Billy Raven had been a mistake after all. Still, who else could he talk to about this? With his free hand, Kurt slid his palm from the top of his head to the back. "Alison came over on her lunch break," he began. Christ. It had been hours since the incident. "She came to tell me-" He halted for a second. It would probably be best not to mention Alison's hidden agenda towards her boss so flippantly. "-something important about a problem we're both having. Because of her actions, this problem is finally going to get resolved. Bu-But after she told m-me…" Great, he had regressed to stuttering. Kurt sighed heavily, gripping the back of his neck. "I accidently kissed her." Silence on the other end, and so he continued. "She left after that… She's supposed to bring Naomi over today, but I don't… I don't think she will."
"Okay, hold on," Billy told him. There was muffled rustling on the other end followed by a car door shutting. Then his coworker laughed outright. Kurt stared blankly at his truck, wondering why the fuck. Gradually, the obnoxious laughter fade to mere chuckles. "You both are a match," Billy managed. Kurt chose not to speak because if he did, surely the words would not be so nice. "Tell me, Bunk, how does one accidently press their lips to another's?"
"Billy, I swear to fu-"
"Calm down, calm down," Billy interrupted, not sounding very bothered. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. It's not like this is the first time this has happened. I mean, last time, you ran away, didn't you?" Kurt opened his mouth to deny, but then abruptly shut it. As if he had gotten a response, Billy continued speaking. "Besides, something like that would not stop her from bringing your daughter around. As far as I can tell, she's been all for Daddy-Bunker since the beginning. She doesn't seem the type to ruin the relationship between parent and child just because of the parents' relationship." As always, Billy made some good points. "This isn't about Naomi, Bunk. This is about your relationship with Alison—that's it." His vehicle started up. Kurt could not say he liked the nonchalance his coworker had. "Obviously, you've reached a boiling point and it has spilled into this accidental kiss."
"It… It was an accident," Kurt insisted feebly.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I can't hear you over your denial."
"Billy-"
"You called me for advice, right?" Though he sounded too amused, he also sounded serious. Kurt nodded his head though Billy could not see. "Let me ask you a question. Did she… accidently kiss you back? She probably did. That makes this easier." Kurt frowned, not understanding Billy's assumption. Easier for who? Still, Alison had kissed him in return. He could not deny that. He could still feel the way her arms moved around him in order to draw him closer. He had initiated it, but she had reciprocated. Wrapping herself around him, sighing his name like a whine and a challenge—that had been her reaction to him. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, having to remind himself that he was currently outside and talking to his… coworker on the phone. Not alone in his shower.
"How does it make anything easier?" Kurt managed to ask. In his opinion, the accident had complicated their entire situation. He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly, willing himself not to recall the accident so vividly again.
"You've been dancing around each other ever since she came back, not getting to the root of the issue," Billy told him, almost sounding put out. "The issue is closure or continuation, and in this song and dance, you have gotten neither. Both of you are so focused on your daughter that you've essentially turned her into a distraction. The accidental kiss is like… like a catalyst for you to work this out completely. Talk to her, Bunk. Ask her questions. Get your closure or get your continuation. Otherwise, both of you will always have this feeling of standing on the edge."
Kurt sighed again, allowing Billy's words to sink deep. Every time he had needed advice, his coworker would come through for him. He had always been helpful despite Kurt staunchly keeping the welcome back incident from his mind. Billy's advice always managed to move him forward. Maybe Kurt should have taken care of this sooner. Billy was right. It still scared the hell out of him to speak to her, especially so soon afterwards, but it needed to be done. He had been standing on the edge of knowing and not knowing exactly what their relationship meant. In part, that edge had been one of the reasons for the kiss. Both kisses after their separation, actually. If he had known where they stood, a part of him would not have doubts on what they could and could not do.
"Yeah… Yeah, okay," Kurt finally responded. He let out another sigh. "I'll talk to her." Despite the rising dread in his gut, he meant it. When Alison finally came back—if she came back today—he would force himself to ask her those unspoken questions. Come to terms with whatever their relationship was. Finally bury that hatchet for good. Billy huffed out a relieved 'good' and it made Kurt more than a little curious. Why did Billy seem so invested in this? Sure, Kurt had been the one to reach out, but Billy had been more than cordial. When he had not needed to be. "Why do you care?" The question was out before Kurt could stop it.
The other line was quiet for a time. So quiet that Kurt almost believed that it had disconnected. Christ. He should not have asked. Did he really need to hash out his relationship with Billy, too? Maybe this was something he did not need to know right now. Especially given the prolonged silence he received. Kurt opened his mouth, prepared to shift the conversation elsewhere—anywhere else—but Billy cut him off with a deep sigh. "Because we're friends, Bunk," he said, sounding more than a little irked.
Friends…?
The single word echoed through his mind, and somehow shattered previous notions. It was true that he had considered friendship with Billy before. Despite their differences, they had gotten along more than expected. But after… that night… All thoughts of friendship had fled from his mind. It had become clear that Billy Raven had not wanted friendship with the former Neo-Nazi. Kurt had not blamed him for not wanting, but at the same time, he had resented.
Only… His resentment had formed based on a misconception. Kurt had completely believed that he had no visitors while in the hospital. The visitor log had indicated such. It had been a huge reason for his isolation while recovering. But that had not been the case. Both Billy and Alison had frequently visited. Sheriff Lucas Hood confirmed it when Kurt had asked. The man had even commented that it had been strange Kurt had thought otherwise. The conversation had ended there, but Kurt had believed some angry nurse had been responsible. Still, that confirmation had made it… easier to swallow—having Billy back in his life. However, the confusion lingered. Until now. Until he had so brazenly brought up their relationship and put a very real label on it.
Friends.
Kurt sucked in a deep breath, surprised by the feelings welling in his chest. Shock. Bewilderment. Jubilation. They were friends. Even in The Brotherhood, no one had admitted things like that. A like-minded community. A family of sorts. But never actual friendship. No one had ever claimed him as friend before. Accept Alison. And Kurt could not recall her saying it out loud before. This. This was a first for him. Truthfully, he did not know what to say in response.
"Besides," Billy continued as though there had not been a prolonged silence of Kurt processing. "Ever since I told my wife about the mini Bunk, she's been more open to… well, you. That means our daughters can have playdates, eventually forming a gang."
"A gang…?" Kurt repeated, feeling his eyebrows rise.
"They'll be a good gang," Billy assured him. "Being children of cops, they don't really have a choice." Kurt tried not to roll his eyes. "It's kinda always been a goal of mine to have my children be friends with the children of my friend. And then their children be friends, and then so on and so forth. It'd be like a clan, or something."
"… Why?"
"I'unno," he replied. "Can't remember. Probably thought it sounded cool as a kid. You know, on some gang-gang stuff." Kurt sighed a bit, though he was glad for the easy banter. Billy had a knack for defusing tense moods. "Anyway, I'm sure everything is going to work out, Bunk. Get her alone, away from the kids, and talk it out. I'm almost positive that it's going to turn out better than you expect." Kurt let out a noncommittal hum. A big part of him did not believe it. However, a small part… hoped. At the very least, he did not want things to become… stifling because of the accident. At this point, he would settle for comfortable.
"Yeah… thanks, Billy," Kurt said, holding back another sigh.
"Alright, I've gotta go now—picking up groceries for the Mrs." Kurt heard the vehicle come to a stop, and then the shifting of gears. "Don't overthink it, Bunk. It's not as complicated as you make it out to be."
"Alright, goodbye, see you Sunday," Kurt acknowledged.
"You better tell me everything," Billy said.
"Goodbye, Deputy Raven," Kurt repeated, feigning annoyance. "I'll see you at work Sunday." His… friend only snickered before disconnecting. Friend. He could think it now without hesitance. His lips twitched into a real smile. He nodded his head, already coming to terms with it. This was fine—having another friend. Admitting to the friendship. He did not think he had wanted it as much until it had happened. Maybe Billy was right. Maybe talking would turn out better… if they actually managed to get that far.
The smile dropped from Kurt's face as he walked over to the garage's counter to place his phone down. If Alison did not show up today, then he would have to reach out to her. Dreading it already, but at that point, he would not have a choice. More than anything, he wanted to make sure that he could still raise Naomi. That was the most important. He eyes glanced at the screen, noting the time. He had about an hour before normal pick up, so he expected an hour and a half before he might see them. The only thing he could do, for now, was wait. So, until then, he would distract himself and turn off his thoughts of 'what ifs' and 'if onlys.' No overthinking, as Billy had told him.
For now, Kurt focused solely on his truck.
0-0
Time passed, and Kurt had indeed become lost in the ministrations of tinkering. He had brought the radio closer, the loud music effectively drowned out any other ambient noises. For a time, only he and his tools existed to calibrate underneath his truck. Flat on his back with only a large piece of cardboard placed between himself and cement, Kurt felt the strain. In the corner of his mind, he realized that he should take a break soon—maybe change his shirt. No amount of hands-on experience could make this task any less messy. Still, he continued to work, paying no mind to his surroundings. Maybe if he had paid attention, he would not have missed two calls from his sister-in-law. Maybe he would have been better prepared.
A kick to his ankle jolted him—so much so that he nearly dropped the tool. Wincing, Kurt gripped the handle and tilted his head. His eyes saw only a pair of legs, just below the knee. Dark jeans and hard boots. A disgruntled neighbor, maybe. Generally, his neighbors stayed away from him for obvious reasons. One look at him—despite sometimes parking his cruiser in front of his house—and they would cross the street to avoid him. He certainly never got any visits from neighbors. Maybe he turned his music up too loud, and someone had been brave enough to confront him about it. Honestly, the volume had not been at disturbing levels…
Already gearing himself up to give the standard explanation, Kurt slid—shimmied, rather—from underneath his truck. The sun's rays were brighter than the last time, and it took several seconds to adjust. When he did adjust, the spit in his mouth almost choked him on the way down. Kurt nearly scrambled to stand, gripping the tool in his hand harder than necessary. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to fall into old conditions—conditions of lowering his gaze and bowing. The man in front of him now had instilled such a reaction in him.
Randall Watts.
Randall fucking Watts was out of prison.
Right in front of him.
At his home.
A chill Kurt had never known swept through him as a multitude of thoughts swirled. What? How? This person—this monster of monsters, rather—had been supposed to rot. He had been supposed to never know freedom again. And yet here he stood. Unannounced. So close to home. So close to where his daughter laid her head. That thought almost felt like a gag in his throat. If Randall could so brazenly appear after nearly a decade—show up without warning—then he would find out about Naomi. Hell, if it had been any other day, he might have discovered father and daughter playing. After all, she loved the sun. Kurt clenched his teeth inside his mouth, barely holding back the bile.
Unaware of his spiraling thoughts, Randall smiled at him, almost cordially. Kurt knew he was not here for a pleasant visit, though. From experience, he knew pleasant and cordial were not words used to describe Randall Watts. Right now, Kurt could not think of a single conversation that had not had his heart hammering against his chest. Randall was respected within The Brotherhood, but it was mostly fear. There had always been a unique maliciousness only he could carry out. The day he had gotten locked up—for what should have been for good—a silent sigh of relief had permeated. At least, that had been how Kurt felt. Calvin, too. Privately, amongst themselves, they had shared their relief. Like a weight had been lifted from their backs. But now, he had returned, and with his return came the return of immense uncertainty and pressure. Panic, even. Maybe anger. Kurt's grip tightened. No, anger was definitely a part of it. Why was he here?
"Howdy, Kurt," Randall greeted, bright blue eyes staring him down.
"… You're out," Kurt managed.
"They let me go," he replied, easily. Fortunately, he did not seem to notice the strain of Kurt keeping his anger at bay. "And it got me thinking. Everybody deserves a second chance." His squinting eyes stared at him expectedly. Kurt remained silence, already not liking where this conversation seemed to be going. "Come back to the family, Kurt. We need you. Now, more than ever." Come back…? Just like that? Calvin had offered him the same thing before, but it had been a lot less amusing coming from Randall. "Calvin—he talks a big game, but he ain't made of the same steel you and I are."
"I'm not like you," Kurt replied. Randall frowned then. As though he had not expected such a response. It made sense, really. Before, he had been one of many to strive for Randall's approval. He had been one of the few to earn it. Kurt had been a different man—monster—then. The past was far away now, but thoughts of his actions towards who may have been different from him still made him want to vomit. All to impress a twisted stand-in father. "Why would you want me back? I'm a cop."
"Since when did being a cop stop any of us around the country?" Randall scoffed. Kurt grit his teeth. He wished he could deny that. He wished that the nation's police force hadn't been so riddled with monsters. "But with your knowledge of BSD procedure, you'd be more valuable than before, I admit." Randall gave a charming smile. It was the same smile he remembered seeing often after an atrocious act committed against others. The same smile Kurt received for doing something atrocious. "Come on. What do you say?"
"Randall…" Kurt pressed his lips together for a moment, opting to choose his next words carefully. "I don't know how you got out. But you made a mistake in coming here."
"How's that?"
"Because you're not welcomed here," Kurt said through clenched teeth. "You are a relic of my ugly past that I never wanted to see again. Now that you're out, I don't care what you do, but if you come back to my home, I'm gonna dedicate myself to putting you where you belong." His insides shook, and Kurt could not tell whether it meant fear or anticipation. "Whether that's back in jail or in the fucking ground will be all up to you."
Randall's eyebrow jerked, clearly taken aback by the assertion. "Yeah…" He curled his fingers into a proper fist. Kurt tensed even more, squeezing the handle of his tool. "I didn't expect you to bite right away, but a threat of that magnitude…?" Randall tilted his head, somehow looking both disappointed and amused. "Kurt…" A humorless chuckled slipped. "You've changed."
"I'm made of a different kind of steel now," Kurt told him. "But don't think it's any less stronger than yours." Randall narrowed his eyes. Obviously, this conversation had not gone the way he had anticipated. How could he possibly think it would? Coming back into the fold was the farthest thing from Kurt's mind. Nonexistent, really. He was a father now, but he would not tell Randall that. He could not risk his new family. "Don't show your face to me again or I won't hold back."
Randall sharply breathed through his nose, eyes looking elsewhere for a moment. "Ah… Is this what disrespect feels like?" he muttered to himself. Apparently gathering himself, Randall relaxed his fingers and returned his gaze to Kurt. "Well, look," he began, disposition shifting to casual. "I've always liked you, Kurt. At one point, I wanted you to be family. But I can't let that threat slide, so I'm gonna give you a warning." Despite the laidback appearance of his body and the easy grin, his eyes became cold. Kurt internally shuddered. "Tonight, I'm gonna party. Celebrate my emancipation. Tomorrow, I'm gonna get to work. If you haven't accepted my offer of mercy and come back to us, you're gonna be the first order of business. Your dissention won't be tolerated anymore now that I'm back."
Having said his piece, Randall Watts turned and headed towards the gate. Even with his back turned, he gave off an air of arrogance. Like he was untouchable. Like no one would dare attempt. Kurt grit his teeth so hard that pained coursed through his body. He, however, did not let up until Randall had disappeared beyond the gate. Once the former leader's footsteps faded, Kurt let out unsteady breaths. The tool dropped from his hand and fell to the concrete with a loud clang. He could barely hear the sound over his own heartbeat.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Kurt could not help but think he had a made a mistake. Of course, an obvious threat would be meant with retaliation. Subconsciously, he lifted a hand to his chest. His breathing became more uneven as he recalled the night his own brother retaliated. Maybe if he had been vague in his threat… No, a guy like Randall would have given the ultimatum regardless of thinly-veiled threats. Hell, he most likely intended to give the ultimatum no matter what. It had been no secret that he had favored Kurt over others for next in line. No, Randall had always wanted Kurt to succeed him, and so nothing would persuade him to stay away. And his offer had been declined. With just a conversation, the entirety of The Brotherhood would be brought down on Kurt's head, and by association…
The sound of a door slamming shut caught his attention. He knew the sound quite well because he had not gotten around to fixing the rickety screen door. His eyes darted to his back door to see Maggie coming down the steps. Her appearance, from inside of his house, might have shocked him more than Randall's. Christ. He had forgotten about Hank's usual visit. Between the new schedule of seeing Naomi every day and the abrupt change between himself and Alison, thoughts of watching his nephew had gotten lost along the way. Maggie must had deposited her sleeping son somewhere inside. Had he not locked the front door?
"Maggie…?" Kurt found himself muttering as the woman approached.
"Kurt," she greeted with a smile, stopping in front of him. She looked around a bit before returning her gaze to him. "Did you talk with daddy?" Kurt lowered his hand from his chest, realization hitting like a semi-truck. She had brought him here. Maggie had been the one to bring this problem to his doorstep. "I picked him up today. It's why we were late," she explained. "He wanted to see you before pretty much anything else. How did it go?" She had the same expected eyes as her father.
Without thinking, Kurt wrapped his fingers around Maggie's wrist and dragged her closer to him. "Why the fuck did you bring him here?!" he nearly growled in her face. Eyes widening, Maggie gaped at him, apparently at a loss for words. Had she thought it would be a pleasant conversation between himself and Randall fucking Watts? "What gave you the impression that I would want to see him?!"
"… K-Kurt, you're hurting me," Maggie whimpered. "Let me go." As if her warm skin had suddenly became scorching, Kurt released her and stepped away. He turned his back on her, not wanting to see her face right now. He had never thought of Maggie as stupid until now. "I-I thought… You've always respected him. I thought you would have liked to know he was out."
"He threatened me," Kurt bit out.
"What? Why would he do that? He actually likes you!" Maggie sounded confused.
"I threatened him," he answered.
"Kurt, I swear to God-!" Maggie exhaled sharply, voice shifting from confusion to exasperation. "Why do you insist on threatening the men of my family?! This was supposed to be you in!" Kurt whirled around, glaring hard at her. Maggie returned his glare, eyes hot in contrast to her father's. "By the end of the night, daddy could have made you his second again. You would have been protected, but now you've essentially declared war with us!"
"Us…?" Kurt repeated incredulously.
"I meant our family," Maggie amended. Her expression softened. "With daddy back in charge, it means that Calvin doesn't have so much pressure on his shoulders." Kurt almost scoffed. Little did she know, Calvin would hate Randall's return, if he didn't already know about it. Maybe hate it more. His brother would feel a whole lot more pressure to maintain his authority. "It meant that you two could work out your differences and you could return without problem."
"Work out our differences…?" Again, Kurt could not help but to repeat. Maggie had thrown him for a loop. What did she think this was? "I don't know what you've been thinking, but I am not coming back. Never to that." Her brow furrowed as though she could not understand. "You think I was pretending this whole time—waiting for a good in? Maggie, I left-" Fled. "-for a reason, and it wasn't because of something petty like differences between brothers. I left because that life was wrong. I'm not going back to a life of hate. I should have left before I did. I should have never introduced Calvin in the first place."
Maggie pursed her lips, looking thoroughly soured. She married a monster…! Alison's previous words suddenly flooded his mind. Christ. He had been blocking them until now. Until he had seen it himself. Maggie—was she like that, after all? He had not wanted to believe his sister-in-law had anything to do with The Brotherhood's mindset. She had always been sweet and kind. She had stayed far away from rallies, and Kurt could not recall a time where she had said one derogatory term towards another. But this… This persuading him to come back deal felt eye opening. For the first time since he had known her, real distrust crept up within him.
"You're making this harder than it needs to be," Maggie told him. "We are your family, Kurt, and we want you back. Why do you think I've allowed Hank to have a relationship with you? So that you can remember your duty—your family—and come back to us. My father and my husband doesn't want you on the opposing side for whatever revolution that's-"
"What the hell does that mean?!" Kurt barked out. Members of The Brotherhood were nothing more than glorified movers. It couldn't be proven, but everyone knew they pushed drugs for Kai Proctor. But revolution wasn't the first time Maggie had mentioned similar words during this conversation. War. Opposing sides. It all sounded militant in nature, and Kurt couldn't say he liked it very much.
"You know what how dramatic my father is!" Maggie hurriedly explained. "That doesn't matter! What matters is you not antagonizing them! For your sake—for Calvin's!" It honestly felt like he was receiving new information, but the motivation remained the same. Calvin had always been her motivation. "Be reasonable. This is the only life we know. We are the only ones that could accept you. Anyone one else is just pretending or polite." She softened again, taking a step forward. Her hand lightly slid down his arm. It took almost his entire will not to rip away from her. "I know you care about Hank—enough to consider returning. I saw the things you bought to take care of him."
Kurt kept silent even though he wanted nothing more than to shout those things were not for his nephew. Those things had been bought so he could raise his daughter. He wanted to shout that he had the most beautiful daughter, and that she was his family now. He wanted to rage that his new family accepted him just fine. That he had become more than just the ink etched on his skin. He wasn't some stepping stone for Calvin or Randall. Or Maggie. He was a father now, and… Christ. He couldn't let any of them near Naomi. He couldn't.
"Just think about it," Maggie pleaded, lowering her arm. "Really think about it. This is your only chance. My father may be dramatic, but he will follow through. Please choose right this time." She looked elsewhere, appearing hesitant. "I… I need to leave Hank here until tomorrow. I already packed a bag. Daddy and Calvin will be up all night and I don't want Hank to see them drunk whenever they do come home. I'll come alone. After that, I don't know what will happen…" The underlying warning was not lost to Kurt. Still, he did not say anything in response. When it became clear to her that she would not receive any words of goodbye, Maggie narrowed her eyes, and then turned, following her father's earlier footsteps.
It was only after he heard a vehicle start up and pull off did Kurt move. He turned sharply, handing already reaching for his cell phone. His old life was angrily bleeding into his new one. He could not allow that poison to reach his daughter. He would not. He could not wait around until tomorrow. He could not wait around for legal proceedings. He had to act now. Unable to relax, Kurt dialed out. Despite the turbulence between them, he could not let that stop him from doing what needed to be done. Shutting his eyes, he listened to the ringing, idly hoping that the line would not go to voicemail.
0-0
Alison snapped to attention at the sound of an obnoxious blare of a car horn. She blinked twice before focusing on the traffic light, which had turned green. Sighing heavily, she removed her foot from the brake and pressed down on the gas. It had not been the first time she had gotten so lost in her own thoughts on the road. Fortunately—not so fortunate to those behind her—it had always been at a stoplight. She squeezed the steering wheel, once again willing away traitorous thought. Well, tried to. She wanted nothing more than to stop thinking—so vividly—about Kurt. It had been hours since, and yet her mouth still tingled. Mostly due to wanting. But… But that was bad because… because… because because because because.
She sighed deeply, shutting her eyes only for a few seconds. Because she had convinced herself that Kurt no longer wanted. Who was she to project her own feelings onto him? All he wanted was to be a good dad, and she had been okay with that. She had buried most of their past, tried to forget about any deeper connection—other than their child—and essentially move on. She had done this for Naomi's sake. For her own. She could be content, she had told herself numerous times. She had resigned herself to never acting on dormant feelings. But they had erupted like a volcano when he had pressed himself against her. He had kissed her. Eagerly. If breathing had not been an issue, he would have done more than that. She would have let him.
Alison huffed lightly, fingers tightening around the steering wheel more than necessary. Why had Kurt have to go and jack everything up? Sure, their relationship had not been the most sufficient, but it had worked for them. Until it did not. Alison frowned, coming to a stop at another red traffic light. Truthfully, maybe—probably—they would have ended up like this later on. She, herself, might have been the culprit behind the drastic change. As of late, she had not had many innocent thoughts of her child's father. Eventually, it would have been her pressing her lips to his. She had barely controlled herself being in his bed this morning. This morning seemed so far away now.
Where could they go from here?
Another huff left her just as the light turned green. Alison's thoughts had been a whirlwind—a flurry of what ifs and undesirable outcomes. She had barely gotten any work done after leaving Kurt's house. Fortunately, she had already planned to leave early today in order to pick up Naomi. That had been an experience as well. Other parents' stares had been noticeable, as well as the whispering. Jesus Christ. She had not been able to hear the conversations, but Alison had been certain she—or rather, her daughter and Kurt—had been the subject. Most likely, it would end up being a problem. But she could not dwell on it right now.
The here and now problem lied with the abrupt change in relationship between Kurt and herself. One kiss. All it took to bring back everything she thought she had buried. This new—not new—aspect of their relationship had her at a loss. It was the reason she was still driving around despite having options on where to go. She could simply go where she had planned. To Kurt's home. Maybe she could just drop Naomi off and pick her up later. It was what other co-parents did. Maybe she should have done that in the first place… Haah. Too late now for hindsight. She could go home and pretend it all away. Stay away until her heart would not seize up at the thought of meeting him again. However, that would be unfair to both Kurt and Naomi. Not to mention, it would be cowardly. And hadn't it been her cowardice that prevented her from calling Kurt on the day Naomi had been born?
Pressing her lips together, Alison turned yet another corner. She was no closer to either destination. She had been driving around for the better part of an hour. Naomi had long since drifted off. Alison supposed it was a good thing that her daughter had such an easy temperament. Most likely, she had gotten it from her father because, according to her mother, Alison had been the fussiest toddler when confined. "Damn it," she muttered. She needed to come to a decision soon. Driving around aimlessly was not helping matters and did little in sifting through her thoughts. Go home or go to Kurt's. She was already hungry because she skipped out on lunch. Should she just get it over with? A selfish part of her wanted to, if only for the meal.
Beside her, Alison's purse vibrated, signaling a call coming through on her cell phone. After picking up Naomi, she had switched off the sound notification. Honestly, she welcomed the distraction. Keeping her eyes on the road, Alison stretched her right arm, hand reaching into her purse. She blindly rifled through the purse in search of the device. Eventually, her fingers curled around the cell phone and so she pulled it out. Wanting to remain focused on the road, she did not look at the caller ID when she answered. "This is Alison," she greeted.
"… Alison." Her body stiffened, immediately recognizing the deep gravelly voice of Kurt Bunker. She had not expected to hear from him at all. Honestly, she had believed she would have to initiate. "Where are you?"
"Uh…" Alison nervously chewed her lower lip, eyes darting around for street signs. Then thought better of it. Instead, she chose to be vague. "I'm… I'm in my car."
"So you're on the way home." It did not sound like a question. In fact, it sounded forceful. Strained. For the first time, her own wariness about their situation faded, choosing to focus instead on the noticeable difference in Kurt's demeanor. She could not see him, but she could practically sense his rigidness. "Can…? You probably don't want to see me, and I get that—I do… but I need a favor."
"Yes," Alison found herself saying without hesitance. Then- "Kurt, what's wrong?" He sounded upset, but not with her. Had something else happened? "Tell me what's going on."
"Just get here."
Her phone beeped in her ear, signaling his disconnect. Alison wrinkled her brow, blinking a few times. In the end, it seemed her decision had been made for her. What was that? It was almost… rude. Clearly, something had Kurt on edge. Frowning deeply, Alison slipped her phone back into her purse. She returned her hand to the steering wheel, eyes on the lookout for a place to turn around. This was a worrying situation. Something eclipsed the consequences of their change, forcing him to behave differently. It could not have been trivial. Jaw rigid, Alison glanced at her rearview mirror before adjusting it so that she could glimpse at her sleeping daughter. Another sigh left her, and then she made a U-turn.
It took only a few minute to arrive at Kurt's home. Mostly because she had disobeyed a few rules of the road. Alison was anxious—more anxious than she had been about the aftermath of their kiss. For now, the occurrence seemed to have faded from her mind in light of this new situation—whatever it could be. Alison grabbed her purse, slinging the strap around her, before opening her door. She went around her vehicle to the passenger side's rear door, and quickly opened it. After unstrapping Naomi, Alison carefully plucked her daughter from the car seat. Naomi cooed in her sleep, but otherwise remained unbothered by the slight jostling.
Alison used her left leg to shut the door behind her. Daughter secured against her chest and shoulder, she made her way to the front door of Kurt's house. She no longer needed a large bag. Kurt had procured all of the toddler essentials by now, including clothes and hair supplies. Idly, she wished that she could have seen him shopping for it all. She had only heard it because he had called her for pointers and dress sizes. Breathing deeply to steel herself, Alison pushed the doorbell. She told her troublesome heart to calm down, but it did not do any good.
The door finally opened, and to Alison's surprise—and mild relief—Hank Bunker greeted her with a bright smile. "Hi, Ms. Alison!" he exclaimed, pushing open the screen door. In his enthusiasm, he almost hit her, but she had the sense to back away to avoid it. Then his face fell, eyes shifting to Naomi. "Hi, Ms. Alison," he repeated in a softer tone, though he did not need to. Hank truly was a nice boy. Sweet. Considerate. Protective. Like his uncle. To think that his father might eventually forbid those traits for being too soft.
"Hello, Hank," Alison greeted in return. Her hand pulled the screen door open wider. "How are you?"
"M'fine!" he announced, returning his gaze to Alison. "Just woke up. Uncle K said I can watch movies when you got here." Ah. That explained the excitement. "Can Nay-nay play with me after she wakes up?"
"Of course," Alison replied, stepping in. Hank moved to the side to allow her room to move. "Where's your uncle?"
"In his room," Hank told her. "Can you set up the movies for me, Ms. Alison?"
"And what's the magic word?" she asked, following the boy up the stairs.
"Please…!"
Alison's mouth twitched to keep her smile from growing any wider. Hank Bunker was too precious. "Of course," she repeated, kindly. "Let me put Naomi down first, okay?" The boy rapidly nodded his head, and then dashed the rest of the way up the stairs. He disappeared around the corner, obviously heading towards the large room—that should have been a master bedroom—with the television. She had promised to bring him a movie last time she had seen him. The movie, itself, was already in the collection of DVDs because she had thought to bring it at the beginning of the week.
In contrast to Hank's quick movement, Alison took her time getting to Naomi's room. Her daughter did not wake up at all. Walking through the open door, she headed towards the crib. She gently laid Naomi on her stomach. Her daughter only smacked her lips and curled her fingers around the blanket. Smiling, Alison removed Naomi's shoes and socks. She tucked the socks into the shoes and turned away from the crib. After placing the shoes down on the floor near a closet, she turned and left the room, leaving the door opened just a bit. A silent breath left her as she moved down the hallway.
She found Hank in the room, sitting on the couch. Apparently, waiting patiently for the movie. The box of DVDs sat securely in his lap. Soon, Kurt would have to buy or build a cabinet to contain the collection. "Ms. Alison, is Uncle K going to work?" Hank asked. Alison tilted her head.
"Why would you ask that?" she questioned.
"He said he had to change into uniform," the boy supplied. "Does that mean he can't watch the alien movie with us?"
"Hm… I have to find out," Alison stated. "Let me set up the movie, get us some snacks, and then I'll give you an answer. Sound fair?" Hank jerked his head forward in a nod. Alison moved towards the couch, fingers reaching to the box to pull out the specific DVD. She quickly found the movie and turned to set it up. As she did so, she pondered this new information. In uniform? Kurt did not work today. Could he have gotten called in? If so, she had an idea of what the favor could be. But something like that would not put him on edge. Maybe she was overanalyzing the situation. In reality, what had transpired between them might have bled over to his request.
Finished, Alison took the remote control from the top of the television stand. She gave the remote to Hank and took the box in exchange. Setting it down beside the couch, she advised the boy not to break anything. Hank merely tried to wink at her. He had not yet quite gotten the hang of it. It was more of an aggressive blink. Chuckling lightly, Alison left the room. At least his antics put her at ease. So even as she descended the stairs, her insides did not quiver—merely tensed.
The door, which led to the misplaced bedroom, was shut, as it had been upon her arrival. Licking her lips, Alison lifted her fist to rap her knuckles against the door. She did not quite understand the response, as it was so muffled, but she assumed it was okay for her to go in. She twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Stepping into the designated dining area, she turned her attention to the left to see Kurt in his room. He had already dressed in his uniform, only needing to button the black material. He did not turn to greet her, seemingly focused on the task. Alison awkwardly shifted her weight as she watched him start from the bottom.
Since he was already in uniform, he obviously had not expected a rejection of his favor. Honestly, she would not have said no. She liked Hank. He was well behaved for someone of his age. Watching both children would not be a daunting task by herself. Still, she had to wonder how many hours he would be away. Once his fingers reached the halfway point, Alison cleared her throat. Still, he did not turn his eyes her way. "So… You got called in to work an entire shift?" she questioned. She noticed the way he flexed his jaw.
"It doesn't happen often," Kurt spoke, gaze on the mirror. "Can you watch Hank for me?"
"Sure, but what about your sister-in-law?" Alison pointed out. "What happens if you're not here when she picks up her son?"
"She's not coming tonight," he stated. "Her and Calvin are celebrating, I guess." Alison had half a mind to ask what celebration, but then realized she did not truly care. "Still, I… I hope I'm back before midnight. There's chicken nuggets and corn for dinner. You can have the leftovers from last night."
"… Do you have to go now? Or can you wait until Naomi wakes up so she can see you?" Alison questioned. His fingers faltered somewhat. Kurt fell silent. She knew it. Whatever he was about to do had nothing to do with his professional life. "Kurt, what's going on? What happened?"
"It's nothing—just work," he lied.
"Kurt Bunker, don't you dare lie to me," Alison retorted, folding her arms over her chest. Kurt flinched. "I know something happened. And you are reacting to it. Just talk to me." Unbidden, she stepped closer. Whether conscious or not, she reached for him. In response, Kurt faced her but refused to look her in the eye. Her fingers lightly grasped his bicep. "Please, Kurt, whatever it is, we'll figure it out."
"No." His denial came equipped with pulling away from her. Alison did not know what hurt worse. The physical distancing or the sharp rebuttal. She lowered her arm to her side, frowning. Still, he did not look. "I can't involve you… or anyone else. This is my problem." Well, at least he no longer insisted on his working cover story. "I'll take care of this by myself." Jesus Christ. Despite the years, she remembered quite well. The steadfast determination he conveyed caused the same annoyance she had felt in that dingy little motel room. He intended to go after The Brotherhood. Right now. With no plan and no backup. Why? What changed caused this drastic reaction?
Without consciously thinking of her actions, Alison lifted her arm again, higher than last time. Her fingers curled around his chin, and snapped his head straight so that he would finally look at in the eye. She also pulled him down to her eye level. Kurt's eyes widened considerably at her bold action, but she could not bring herself to care for his shock right now. "Whatever it is you're thinking of doing—what if it results in you not being able to come home?" Alison demanded. "Would it be worth it not being able to see your daughter again?"
"I'm doing this for Naomi," Kurt said.
"Bullshit," Alison told him. Kurt jerked away from her hold, and Alison spitefully hoped her nails had scratched him. "Naomi doesn't need a martyr for a father." Kurt drew in an unsteady breath. She saw a glimpse of fear, and that caused her worries to skyrocket. Not only was his determined, but he was also desperate. This only confirmed that something drastic had occurred to kick-start whatever plan. "Jesus Christ, Kurt, just talk to me! What triggered this?" Alison pressed her lips together pondering. "Did… Did your brother come here? Did he suddenly threaten you again?"
"… Worse," Kurt finally said. "If Naomi is ever discovered as mine-"
"That's always been a concern," Alison pointed out. "We've been careful." Careful-ish, she confessed in thought. "Why is it worse?"
"I…" Clearly, he was hesitating. Alison took a step towards him. Maybe subconsciously, maybe on purpose. Unlike before, Kurt did not draw in on himself. In fact, his shoulders relaxed just a little. He took a deep breath, eyes on her again. "I don't know how, but a guy from my past got out of prison. He's ten… a hundred times worse than Calvin could ever be."
"And what? You think one shot to the head and it's over?" Alison scoffed. "The murder of one of them would only turn him into a fucking martyr! I mean, Jesus Christ…! You're in uniform! What do you think is going to happen when they find out someone in uniform did the deed? It's going to turn Banshee into a goddamn warzone!"
"Well, maybe that's what we need!" Kurt blurted loudly. At her glare, he lowered his head contrite. Kids were in the house, they did not need to raise their voices. Kurt breathed in deeply. "Christ, what else can I do?" he murmured. "I need to… I need to do this, Alison! When I left The Brotherhood, it was an act of betrayal. I should have been put down for that betrayal, but Randall Watts was in prison and Calvin was leader." Alison furrowed her brow, wondering why that name sounded so familiar. "I got lucky. But now that he's out… I'm just another one of his targets. And while he's targeting me, he could find out about Naomi. And I can't let anything happen to her… I can't-"
Sensing his rising anxiety, Alison stepped even closer, lifting both hands to cup his cheeks. "Hey, hey," she began in a soothing voice. "You're not alone here, Kurt. Not anymore. I'm not brushing aside how you feel about this guy who's worse than your brother. I feel it. I'm scared too. I would go through Hell for Naomi. I would go to war for Naomi. But we have to be smart about it." She understood, in that moment, they needed to be a united front against more than just parenthood. "… I'm not leaving you again. So, let's figure it out together." Kurt shut his eyes, allowing the touch. He even tilted his head forward. In a corner of her mind, Alison realized that she should not be touching so intimately. However, even after so much time, it felt… natural.
"Okay…" Kurt whispered.
"Okay…?" Alison repeated. To her surprise, he lifted his right hand and curled his fingers around her wrist. For half a second, she thought he would yank her hand down. But he loosely gripped her wrist and opened his eyes. Gone was the fear and desperation. In its place, shined fortitude. Trust. Hope. Despite the intensity, there was a softness in his eyes as well. Oh. She had not seen that tenderness in, what seemed like, a long time. Alison's breath hitched.
"Okay," he affirmed. The pad of his thumb rubbed against the inside of her wrist. "Together." Kurt sighed slowly, giving a nod, further showing his agreement. "What do we do from here?" Alison bit her lower lip, using the question as an excuse to slip her palms away from his cheeks. Her gaze darted to the side, praying that Kurt had not felt her quickened pulse.
"Um…" She swallowed, willing her composure's return. "Tell me about this Randall," she requested, shifting her eyes back to Kurt. "You said he's someone from your past? Is it…" Her thoughts fumbled, trying to remember that name. Nickname, rather. "Oh, is it Tank?" Kurt's eyebrows shot up. He appeared quite surprised.
"You remember that…?" he questioned.
"Why wouldn't I?" Alison asked. After all, that conversation sparked their entire relationship. Kurt pressed his lips together, but the corners twitched upward. Alison cleared her throat, ignoring the tingling within her body. "Is Randall Watts actually Tank?" It would explain why the name sounded familiar. Maybe Kurt had told her more about Tank after that night at the CADI.
"No," Kurt replied. "Tank went to jail before I was introduced to Randall. I think he died there." Alison attempted to remain impartial outwardly. Inwardly, she could not care less about the fate of another monster, especially one that had contributed in Kurt's transformation into a monster. "No, Randall is… was the former leader before Calvin. About eight years ago, he got arrested—tried on a technicality and put away for life."
"A technicality…?" Alison repeated.
"Yeah, something trivial that no one should have looked at, but it was a loose thread that unraveled his crimes—most of them," Kurt explained. "Funny thing is if he had never made that trip to Franklin, he probably wouldn't have got caught." Something akin to recognition jolted Alison. Her lips parted, coming to a realization.
"Larceny-theft?" she said.
"… How did you know that?"
"Because I think I'm the reason he was convicted."
0-0
Alright, so I know it's been quite some time. No, I am not abandoning this story. 5 more chapters to go, after all, if things go accordingly. Last year, I was not very happy with the home situation, so I moved. It has taken me time to settle in, but I am back, and I am happy. And I'm going to complete this story. If you're still hanging in there, thank you so much for your support. :)
