So, a little clarification before we begin. By the end of season 7, Abel is, let's say 3 and a half years old. Thomas can't be more than one year old, and my guts is telling me more like 9 months old, but let's establish the timeframe as we can: the show begins with Abel's birth, and that means when the show ends, it's been 3 years, and maybe a couple of months (even though a producer said it was only 2 to 2 and half years, but do you send kids so young to preschool?). So by my calculation, the show doesn't show me, no pun intended what the situation would have been like five years later, which means... Clean slate! I can write it all. Some events will have taken place, others won't.
The story is taking place in 2014 (as the show started in 2008 and I'm giving myself an extra year because I'm superperstitous and the 13 part makes me a bit worried about whether or not tthis story will be readable). You have the basics!
Also, I'm writing again!
Disclaimer, no copyright infringement intended
He was trying to keep it in, trying not to let people know how giddy it felt. He was a Son of Anarchy, Redwood Original and all that shit. He didn't get to act like a teenage girl.
Yet, he was, giddy, and ridiculously close to having a panic attack. It felt like too much. It was just a girl for crying out loud…
Then again, it was not a girl. It was a woman. The woman, or so it felt. It had never felt like that, they had never felt like that. But she… She did. From day one. When it made no sense and his brain had short-wired when meeting her.
When the guys at the Indian Springs charter had heard his drunken description of her, almost as a Christmas miracle, though it was nowhere near Christmas, they had recognized her and told him where to find her. Las Vegas. Made no sense yet at the same time, made all the sense in the world.
He had gotten her address, and there he was on her doorstep, hitching to ring the bell and terrified of doing so. He tried to talk himself up. He was a fucking Son, Fucking hell and all that. The Reaper would be coming in person to take his soul and all that shit.
Yet, there was a part of him he would never have acknowledged ever, who felt like a teenage boy, meeting his high school sweet heart after some time apart. Talk about some time…
He fidgeted some more, then saw the neighbor watch him from their window. He knew that look, they'd call the cops any seconds now. It was a nice neighborhood, he did not belong here.
He took a deep breath in, and let it out, working his neck like he was about to enter the fighting pit, then walked up to the door. It took all his will, but he managed to ring the door. His fate was sealed, what was next was next, and all that fucking shit.
The door opened, and his jaw dropped. A little girl was holding the door open, with a bunny of some sort in her hands.
"You're not Brandi", she muttered, seizing him up like she was a grand lady, an Old Lady even, and in a flash, he thought she could be… but she couldn't?
She was cute, he thought, but then again little girls were never ugly, at least not in their father's eyes. She was sort of adorable, like a little bird, looking all haughty and uptight, but he felt shame when he realized there was fear in her eyes too though she tried to hide it.
"I'm not Brandi, sweetie, can you get your mom around?"
"Harper Knowles, what did your mom say about opening the door to strangers?" She – as in his- said, coming to pick up the little girl in her arms. "What are we going to do with you?"
"He called me sweetie," the little bird said. "I'm not sweet."
And finally, she saw him, and he saw everything in her eyes though he was not sure what it meant.
"Watcha doing out there? Brandi is not coming for another 30 minutes and Harper needs to have her breakfast," another woman appeared coming from another room in the house.
He automatically looked up to see who the other voice belonged to, though the woman he had hoped to see was just in front of him. He found himself gasping:
"Tara?"
"Alexander?" Venus said.
"Mister Trager?" Tara bloody Knowles said, coming to stand by the goddess of Love. (You know she was. She was. She just was. If you didn't agree you could get out of his head.)
"What the fuck is going on?" He heard himself say.
"Language," the little girl chirped.
Please, R&R, as I am so afraid to dip my toe in that pool after so long!