Charming Pawse Bk3Ch7 Caregiven A Charming Tribute

by wanderingchat

While Bachman removes all traces of Amelia, Charming says goodbye to a fallen hero. The day becomes a test of endurance for Cat. It's not an easy day for Alex, Gemma, and Tara, far from home and unable to help with the club's struggles.

The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.

All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are products of my own imagination. Any similarities to real persons are pure coincidence.

Love and thanks go to the DH, who is very much alive and well; along with my best friend and my 'unofficial' god – daughter for being part of my family. Also, much thanks to the members of , , the Indy Tarts and Tartans Gerard Butler fan group, SOA Forums, Watchers of Anarchy, Kim Sisk (author of Sapphires and Whiskey), and my Facebook and Twitter friends for their support. A big thank you for those readers who have written reviews and listed me as a favorite author here at FanFiction. Net.

Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager.

Charming Pawse

Book III

Chapter VII

Caregiven Home

A Charming Tribute

Author's Note

This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Officer Sgt. David Moore, who died in the line of duty in January, 2011. I did not personally know Sgt. Moore. His death affected an entire community. Had there been an episode related to Deputy Chief David Hale's funeral, it might have gone along these same lines.

When Tig had been given a room in the Madoc home, he'd immediately hidden his stash of Snicker Bar Muffins and hooked up the laptop computer to an electrical outlet. The laptop internet access was set up so he didn't have to have a user name.

To his annoyance, he immediately learned that his woman blocked all access to porn sites, and he couldn't unblock it without a password. Though his access to online sex was blocked, Tig was able to find other websites that kept him from being bored.

'Bet she never thought I'd wind up usin' the laptop for somethin' like this!' he mused while carrying it to the basement so Bachman could listen to the 80's music he'd requested. He set it up and accessed the internet and the You Tube account. He quickly explained the set up to Bachman before retreating up the stairs.

Tig didn't imtimidate easily; Bachman's demeanor made him uncomfortable enough that he was more than willing to allow the cleaner to work alone. 'I'd rather deal with Tara and Gemma then hang around him! Don't really wanna know how he's gonna get rid of the gash!'

After Nate unloaded his burden of guilt over Rose's death to his daughter, his clarity faded back into the fog of dementia. Gemma made certain the keys to the car were hidden so he couldn't take off on another joyride.

Tig took the extra precaution of removing the battery and the spark plugs from the engine, rendering the vehicle inoperable. "If he should find the keys, he won't be able to go anywhere!" he stated triumphantly.

"It's only until tomorrow," Gemma remarked softly, watching her father through the kitchen window. He was wandering around the garden with Tara. He'd stop to admire a plant every so often, inhaling it's fragrance.

Gemma was cooking dinner and her attention was divided between the stove, her father, and the basement door. Her eyes strayed from the stove to the window to the basement door. "It's so damn quiet down there! Can't even hear the music," she observed.

"You were expectin' to hear power tools or somethin'?" Tig growled. "The less noise comin' from there, the less you hafta tell Nate."

"That's true," Gemma's active imagination conjured up all kinds of methods Bachman might be using to dispense with the caregiver's body. sighed, running her hands up and down her arms. "I just can't help wonderin' how he's gonna get rid of her."

"Believe me Gem, it's better you don't know," Tig replied.

Dinner was a tense and quiet affair. Both men had a hearty appetite, but the women were too skittish to eat. Tara and Gemma would glance at the basement door while shoving the food around on their plates.

After dinner, Tara did the dishes while Gemma sat in the den watching television with her father. Tig wandered out to the garden for a smoke and to call his woman.

'She and June oughta be home from the service by now," his heart raced with anticipation. He was disappointed to get the two – way's voice mail.

"Hey, love! I know y'all expected we'd be home from the service. June's agreed to take me to St. Thomas to visit Reese McCargo, the kid that got shot. I'm takin' the large size feline trio plush as a get well present. His mom was kinda pissed at the club the night of the drive – by; I calmed her down a bit. Figured I'd give her a $100 gift cert for the coffeehouse. Worse she can do is throw the stuff back in my face!"

"Bitch better not!" Alex growled protectively.

"I won't stay long. Soon as I get home, I'll load the service to my personal You Tube account; you'll have no difficulty findin' it. Hope Bachman appreciated the music. If he didn't, it's his fault for not bein' more specific. Talk to y'all later!"

"Hey back, baby! Haven't heard any complaints from Bachman. Noticed you snuck in some extra KISS and Mellencamp, not to mention those sly references to his line of work! Ya sure enjoy livin' dangerously, woman!" he growled. "You always come through for me, baby. Wish you woulda waited to see the kid; these last couple of days have been rough on ya. I'll call ya later." He slid the two – way into his pocket and inhaled on his cigarette.

'Cat's pretty good at winnin' people over. The club'll really owe her one if she can keep that woman from holdin' us responsible for the kid's injuries!' He flicked the stub of the cigarette to the concrete, crushing it under his boot until it was ground to dust.

Opie was surprised that he enjoyed his brief ride on Cat's bike. 'Not bad for a crotch rocket. Didn't realize it's so powerful. Almost like my Harley. She sure handles it well!' He pulled into the Teller – Morrow lot and parked the Yamaha next to Tig's ride, where it would await his return to service it.

'I hope she manages to sell the panhead to someone far from Charming so I won't see it all the time,' Opie mused, attaching a tag to the bike key and placing it on the rack. He stepped outside the office, nearly bumping into Jax.

"Where've you been, bro?"

"For a ride," Opie rumbled.

Jax nodded his head towards the parked Yamaha. "Saw ya pull up on Cat's bike. Where's your ride?"

Opie pointed over his shoulder at his Harley.

"Then how'd you get to her place?" Jax inquired.

"I got there and got back," Ope replied. "How I got there isn't an issue."

"OK, man! Sorry I asked!" Jax stepped back and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Sorry, brother. Didn't mean to snap at ya."

Jax nodded. "It's OK, man. You've gotta lot on your mind."

Opie looked as if he wanted to say something else. He shook his head and turned to walk to the clubhouse.

'I just don't want to say anything until the panhead sells,' Opie thought as he passed his own Harley. 'Don't want to get anyone's hopes up just to have everyone disappointed in me again.'

Juice exited the clubhouse, nearly bumping into Opie in his haste. "Sorry, bro! Clay wants us in the chapel."

Opie nodded and continued on inside. Juice trotted over to the garage to deliver the message to Jax and Chibs.

The pair acknowledged the message and followed him back to the clubhouse, donning their cuts as they walked. Piney, Bobby, Opie, and Clay were already seated in the chapel when they entered.

"We've got a decision to make about Hale's service," Clay announced.

"What's to decide?" Juice asked. "We're going, aren't we?"

"Of course," Clay affirmed. "Jacob's already pissed at us. The question is do we aggravate him further and show up in our cuts, or without 'em?"

"Seems like it doesn't matter," Piney observed. "Whichever we do, he's gonna find fault with it."

"True," Clay replied. "Floyd reported that one of Hale's remarks about us at the CBOA is that we only remove our cuts for criminal activities."

"He's got a point," Opie interjected wryly.

"So you're thinkin' of goin' to the funeral without the cuts?" Jax inquired.

"It crossed my mind. Might win us a few points with the judge determinin' our bond revocation."

"Plenty of news crews around town," Piney rumbled. "Word would get to 'em, a'right."

"It might noot mayke enny diffrence ta tha judge," Chibs added. "But it might win tha' civilians back ta our side."

"Let's put it to the vote," Clay ordered. "Those in favor," He raised his hand and waited. Bobby soon raised his, followed in short order by the others. "Motion carried!" Clay tapped the gavel.

"Just as long as we don't have to wear suits," Bobby moaned.

Lyla remained quiet on the ride back to Charming from Lin's China Palace. She felt bad that Opie had caused a fight with Lin's Hong Kong associates. 'I keep telling him to get over his feelings about my work. I don't give him shit about the club, I'd like the same courtesy!'

She had to admit that his possessive behavior made her feel special. 'No man's ever wanted to fight for my honor before. It's thrilling, but frightening at the same time!'

She'd left her car with Ima's at the twins house. When they returned, she waved an absent – minded goodbye to the other three and scampered to her Prius. 'I've got to pick up the kids from the babysitters, get changed, and get to the service.' She didn't hear Ima call out to her.

She picked up Piper and Opie's kids from the babysitters and rushed to Opie's house. "We've got to hurry up and change clothes. Put on something nice, like you'd wear to school for pictures," she shooed them to their rooms.

While the children changed clothes, Lyla quickly cleaned up and selected an appropriate outfit of her own to wear. She was applying a bit of make up when the doorbell rang.

'I don't have time for this!' she sighed. "Kids! C'mon!" she called out while walking to the door to send whoever was at the door from the premises She opened the door to find Ima standing on the doorstep, clad in a tight fitting black skirt and high helled sandals. Part of a pink tube top peeked out the side of an oversize pull over that hung off one shoulder.

"Hi, Lyla. I tried to get your attention at the twins, but you apparently didn't hear me. I thought we could ride to the service together," the actress stated, stepping past Lyla into the entry. "There's going to be so many vehicles there, I didn't want to fight the traffic."

'Yeah, right! You just want an excuse to be around Jax!' Lyla glared at Ima's back as she shut the door, eyeing the other girl's skimpy attire. "You're not going to the service in that outfit!" Lyla snapped.

"What's wrong with it?" Ima inquired innocently.

"Nothing, if you're turning tricks," Lyla growled. "It's not exactly respectful to the Hale family! C'mon!" She grabbed Ima by the arm and dragged her into the bedroom.

"What are you talking about?" Ima cried. "This is my best outfit!"

"If that's your best, I'd hate to see your worst!" Lyla complained. "Honestly, Ima! Just because we're porn actresses doesn't mean we have to dress like hookers all the time!"

Lyla shoved her companion onto the bed and stormed to the closet. 'Ima is taller than me. Most of my dresses will barely cover her ass!'

She pawed through her outfits, looking for something more subdued. She withdrew a long, dark colored skirt and matching peasant blouse. She handed the outfit to Ima. "Here. Put this on!"

"You've got to be kidding!" Ima exclaimed. "You want me to dress like some country girl?"

"It won't hurt. You might even be surprised by the effect!"

Ima grimaced, but realized she had no choice if she wanted to see Jax at the service. 'Who knows? He might find the difference intriguing!'

Ima accepted the outfit and disappeared into the bathroom to change. Lyla sighed with relief and walked into the living room to find the children sitting on the sofa, faces scrubbed clean, dressed in their Sunday School best.

"You look fantastic!" Lyla clapped her hands in delight.

"You look pretty, Mommy!" Piper replied, a sentiment that Ellie and Kenny enthusiastically echoed.

"Thank you, babies," she cooed.

"Who was at the door, Mommy?" Piper asked.

"My friend, Ima. She's going to the service with us."

Kenny and Ellie exchanged a bemused look and shook there heads.

'They grow up so fast!' Lyla thought, catching the older children's' expressions.

The children's' eyes widened in surprise as Ima entered the living room behind her. She'd changed into the outfit, which brought more attention to her face and hair than body.

"Wow! You're almost as pretty as Mommy!" Piper exclaimed. Kenny and Ellie nodded in agreement, surprise at Ima's toned down attire leaving them speechless.

Lyla turned to look at Ima. The skirt fell to just above her ankles, but was still fashionable. The peasant blouse covered her breasts, but was styled in such a way that it left her shoulders bare. Ima had found a colorful shawl that she'd draped over her shoulders and behind her back. The effect was stunning.

For a moment, Lyla felt like one of Cinderella's step sisters. Then she smiled graciously. "Piper's right. You do look stunning!"

"You don't think the shawl's too much?" Ima asked worriedly.

"I think it's perfect!" Lyla gathered her purse and keys, shepherding the children in front of her. "We'd better get going. It looks like it's going to rain."

"I've got an umbrella in my car," Ima replied, walking to her car to retrieve it while Lyla locked the house and supervised the children's' buckling up in the back seat.

Cat, June, and Chuckie returned to the house as dusk gave way to night. While she'd visited with Reese McCargo and his mother, June and Chuckie had taken Pete and Adrian back to the coffeehouse.

"I don't exactly feel like cookin', and Cat sure as Hell ain't up to it." June announced.

"I accept that," he replied. "We could order delivery pizza."

"We could, but Cat can't eat pizza. Even the toppings don't agree with her," June remarked. "Any good Oriental restaurants in town?"

Chuckie shook his head. "Not in Charming. Closest is in Oakland, but they don't deliver here, and I'd rather not go there."

June shook her head. "Too far away for my likin'. Don't wanna leave Cat at the hospital that long."

"I accept that. There's a family restaurant out on the highway. We could order take – out from there," Chuckie offered.

"I accept that," June grinned.

They drove out to the restaurant and placed their to – go order. June insisted on paying for Chuckie's meal and grabbed the guest check before he could slide it between his fingers.

"No fair, Miss June!"

"Very fair, Chuckie. Y'all are takin' time to be with us when that guy comes to buy the bike. The least I can do is buy y'all dinner!"

"I accept that!" He shrugged in defeat. They drove back to the hospital and parked the car near the front entrance.

A few minutes after they'd returned to the hospital, Cat limped out the door towards them. Chuckie got out of the back seat and opened the car door for her with help from June on the inside.

"Thanks, darlin'," Cat smiled tiredly, gingerly lowering herself into the front seat. June reached over, grasped the harness, and drew it across Cat's chest to latch into the holder as Chuckie shut the door and climbed into the back seat.

"What smells so good?" Cat inquired as June pulled out of the parking lot.

"Dinner. We got take out from the restaurant on the highway. Kinda reminds me of Four Seasons back in Indianapolis. Lots of good comfort food and plenty of it without breakin' the bank," June explained.

"Good thinkin'. I'm too damn tired to cook," Cat replied, leaning her head against the door of the car.

"How'd it go with the kid and his mom?" Chuckie asked.

"Ambiguous."

"She didn't have y'all thrown out I hope!" June inquired.

"Nah," Cat sighed. "Nothin' like that. She's upset and mad, just as any parent would be."

"So y'all gonna spill?"

"Not that much to tell," Cat replied through a yawn.

"Start talkin', chick. It'll keep y'all awake til we get home."

"It'll take about that long to tell all y'all what happened," Cat observed wryly.

'So this is what the critical care floor is like when you're not a patient!' Cat mused, limping slowly from the elevator into the main hall. She carried the gaily wrapped package under her good arm.

The floor was busy but quiet. Nurses and other medical staff bustled from room to room tending to their patients. The nurses' station was centrally located, so that the rooms were easily accessible and visible from it.

She knew that Reese McCargo had been assigned to the very room she'd been in just a few days ago. 'Kinda ironic,' she thought, limping down the hall to his room. The door was closed. She debated whether to knock and wait for admittance or walk in and hope Mrs. McCargo wouldn't go off in front of her child.

The child's mother stepped off the elevator as Cat was debating with herself. Mrs. McCargo had gone to the cafeteria for a quick meal while her child had been taken for some tests. To her annoyance, the mother wasn't allowed to be present to comfort her child during the tests.

Her annoyance grew when she caught sight of the visitor standing in front of her son's room. 'Another curious well – meaning citizen. This one must've just come from the Deputy Chief's funeral,' she thought wearily.

She forced a polite smile on her face as she walked up behind the black clad stranger. Mrs. McCargo noticed the visitor had a gaily wrapped package held under one arm and cradled against his or her hip.

"May I help you?" Mrs. McCargo inquired politely as she walked up behind the visitor. She carried a cup of coffee from the cafeteria. 'At least this one didn't arrive empty handed. Wish the townspeople were a little more giving when my husband's unit was activated!'

Cat slowly turned around to face the woman. She could see the stress and worry visible in the parent's eyes. "Hello, Mrs. McCargo. How's Reese?"

Mrs. McCargo's demeanor of polite inquiry swiftly changed to intense anger. "We don't want anything from you! Especially if you're here on behalf of those outlaws!"

"I'm here on my own behalf," Cat replied calmly. "I wanted your child to have a little something to take his mind off his injuries."

"So I don't sue your damn outlaw friends?" the woman hissed. "Get the Hell out of here before I have you thrown out by security! I don't care how injured you are!"

"You know, lady, your child isn't the only innocent by – stander to get wounded around here!" Cat snarled. "I'm not unsympathetic, but I'm really tempted to knock that frackin' log off y'all's shoulder!"

The two women glared at each other, then Mrs. McCargo's anger evaporated as quickly as it had erupted. She felt ashamed of her anger at the sight of the black eye patch, the sling hiding the cast, and the colorful cuts and bruises on Cat. "I forgot. You were targeted, and you were just as innocent as Reese," she murmured, apologetically. "Let's sit in the lounge. Reese isn't in his room; they took him for some tests."

"That's fine with me," Cat replied. "I saw enough of that particular room recently." She limped after the woman, settling gingerly in one of the chairs in the lounge not far from the room. She placed the package on the table in front of her.

"What's in the package?" Mrs. McCargo inquired, sipping from her coffee cup.

"It's the large size of the plush feline trio we sell at the coffeehouse."

Mrs. McCargo smiled softly. "He's been wanting to get those ever since they came out! Every time we go in, he wants to sit where he can watch the kitties."

Cat nodded. "They'll give him plenty of comfort while he's here, and large enough not to get lost in the laundry."

Mrs. McCargo lifted a small envelope with her name on it from the package. "What's this?"

"Somethin' for you. The next few times all y'all visit, your refreshments are on the house."

Mrs. McCargo's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "In exchange for me not following through with a lawsuit against your precious bikers I suppose?"

Cat's one eye gleamed with outrage. "There are people capable of givin' gifts with no strings attached! Whether y'all decide to sue the club or not is all y'all's decision. I'm not here to make a case for or against it. If I were, I'd tell y'all that the ones to go after are the ones who did the shootin'. One of 'em just happens to be in the jail ward in this very hospital as we speak!"

The upset mother looked from the envelope and the package to the business owner sitting across from her. Cat returned her gaze with a steady one of her own.

Though the other woman wore dark tinted glasses that didn't allow Mrs. McCargo to look her in the eye, the parent trusted Cat. She'd checked with accounting as soon as the department opened that morning. True to her word, Cat Marshall had signed the financial responsibility paperwork for Reese.

"I think you just did," she replied softly, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I didn't know anyone was apprehended."

"Y'all have been a little pre occupied," Cat grinned. "Che if Unser told me the culprit is a member of a minor outlaw club out of Lodi."

"Why would he tell you that?" Mrs. McCargo replied, her suspicion on the rise again.

"I asked him about it," Cat replied simply. "Customers would be askin' me about it because of my involvement with Tig Trager. I wanted to be able to give an honest answer."

"Why should it matter to you? Other than clearing your friends?"

Cat shrugged her shoulders. "A lot of people have the mistaken belief that clubs like the Sons and the Mayans have no scruples. In reality, they possess quite a few."

"Oh, really?" Mrs. McCargo drawled.

"Oh, really," Cat mimicked dryly. "For one, they don't believe in harming innocents. Do you remember when the Sons raided the Christian Center in Morado?"

The other woman nodded. "They were arrested for assault with deadly weapons. Shots were fired and there were innocent families there. That doesn't help your point, Ms. Marshall."

"Yes, shots were fired, but it was also reported that SAMCRO never fired a single shot. Fact is, as soon as they realized the place was full of innocent civilians, they kept the safeties in place on their weapons."

Mrs. McCargo's eyes narrowed in thought. "I remember the reports mentioning that."

Cat nodded. "Evidence was found that the shots were fired from the lectern by one of Zobelle's men. Sure, the families were frightened, but they turned against him when they figured out what he really represented and saw one of his own men fire into the crowd."

Cat paused a moment before adding, "The animals that did the drive – by are every bit as nasty in their way as Zobelle and LOAN. I don't agree with everything SAMCRO does. I don't disagree with everything they do, either."

"How can someone like you associate with people like SAMCRO?" Mrs. McCargo inquired.

Cat gazed intently at the woman. She could tell that Mrs. McCargo wasn't asking to be mean or petty, but to try to gain understanding.

"At the risk of angerin' y'all, that's my business, ma'am," she replied quietly. "I understand Reese is going to recover."

'Can't blame her for not wanting to discuss something so personal. She's as entitled to her privacy as I am," Mrs. McCargo nodded. "It's going to be a long recovery for him. The bullet did a lot of damage."

"I'm sorry," Cat replied sincerely. "He's much too young to suffer such pain and rehab."

"He's already improved a lot since he was admitted."

"I'm glad. I was prayin' for him."

The other woman looked intently at Cat, looking for any outward signs of duplicity on her part. All she could see was a physically exhausted woman in a great deal of pain herself. "Did you attend the Deputy Chief's funeral?"

Cat nodded.

"I heard a rumor that you participated, along with one of your club buddies and the school choir."

"Yes, ma'am. Wasn't my idea. The business owner's association 'drafted' me," she replied ruefully.

"Guess I'll see the coverage on the news later," Mrs. McCargo sighed. "It's really been a sad time in this town."

"I agree with that. Seems like things went to Hell the night of the Rally. Sometimes I wish I hadn't bothered," Cat replied tiredly.

"But you did, Ms. Marshall. You bothered, and you made us aware. Reese was a part of that; his class performed 'Black and White'."

Cat smiled at the woman's response. "I wondered why I felt like I'd seen your son before. He's in the same class with one of my employee's children."

"I thought it was cute when your man jumped on stage and cut in on the other club member dancing with you during the finale." Mrs. McCargo noted.

Cat grinned wickedly. "I don't know that Tig would appreciate bein' referred to as 'cute', but I certainly enjoyed it!"

"No, I suppose a ruffian like that wouldn't," Mrs. McCargo grinned back in a conspiratorial manner. 'But I heard about how he sat by your bedside the night of the wreck. That says a lot about him.'

The elevator doors opened and Reese's bed was maneuvered from it by a pair of nurses aides. The small, pale form on the bed immediately captured Mrs. McCargo's attention. She stood up and lifted the package from the table.

"Reese will be very happy to get the kitties. And thank you for this," she indicated the envelope. "I'll think about what you said, but I'm not making any promises."

Cat struggled to her feet and extended her good hand to the woman. Mrs. McCargo set the package down to clasp Cat's hand in both of hers.

"No promises asked for or expected," Cat replied. "Let me know if y'all need anything over and above what the hospital provides."

She turned and limped slowly to the elevator while Mrs. McCargo headed for her child's room.

She stared at her peacefully sleeping child, then set the package on the wheeled table where he would see it when he awoke. Mrs. McCargo knew the doctor would share the test results with her momentarily. She mentally reviewed her brief meeting with the coffeehouse owner.

'She got injured standing up against LOAN. She just came from the funeral for the Deputy Chief, she's tired and hurting, yet she took the time to come here to visit my child and bring a gift for him without asking for anything in return.'

Mrs. McCargo gazed at the package, then at her son. She no longer harbored anger towards SAMCRO. She knew the shooting hadn't been their fault. She fingered the business card in her pocket she'd been given by a lawyer earlier that day. 'Maybe I need to do a little more thinking on this after all.'

Cat thought over Mrs. McCargo's comments about Hale's funeral during the brief elevator ride to the main floor. When the elevator doors opened, she limped to the information desk and asked the volunteer who she would speak to about programming on the hospital's information channel.

"Cat Marshall? I hope you're not here to be readmitted!" A familiar voice called behind her.

She turned and grinned at the Chief of Staff. "Ah, so now the truth comes out!"

Dr. Barry rolled his eyes. "Now you know better! I didn't mean it as an insult! Are you all right?" He ran a critical professional eye over her.

"Yeah, just tired. It's been a long week."

He nodded. "Yes, it has. You're still hurting, I could tell your lungs weren't supporting your voice as well as usual."

"You're observant," Cat retorted. "Actually, I was back in the other mornin' to be checked out. Got tackled to the ground during the drive – by. Cracked a couple more ribs."

Dr. Barry winced. "I'm surprised you agreed to perform, much less that you'd come here after the funeral."

"Not much choice when one gets drafted," she mused. "I came to visit Reese McCargo."

"Say no more, Cat," Dr. Barry replied. He knew what lay behind her interest in the child. "Why are you asking about our information channel?" he inquired.

"So I can meet with whoever's in charge of it, and see if they can run a feed from my You Tube account for the patients. I made a video of the memorial and burial services for a friend. Thought the patients might want to see the whole thing, instead of snippets from the evening news."

"That's nice of you. Come with me, I'll take you there. Do you want a wheelchair?"

Cat shook her head. "No, I can make it."

He gazed intently at her, then shrugged his shoulders and offered his arm to her.

Cat slipped her arm through his and allowed him to support her slow progress down the administrative wing to the programmer's office.

Dr. Barry knocked on the door, then opened it and followed her into the office.

"Dr. Barry!" the programmer cried. "Is there a problem?"

"Relax, Mark. This is Cat Marshall. She was a recent patient, and would like to talk with you about programming on the hospital channel."

The man visibly relaxed and indicated the chair across from his desk. "Please sit down, ma'am."

"I'll leave you to your quest, Ms. Marshall. Good luck, and thank you for thinking of the patients."

Mark Lange looked across the desk at the black garbed woman sitting in front of him. 'She's a living legend in this town. And she wants to talk to me!'

Cat settled in the chair, sighing in relief to be off her feet for a bit. 'The guy looks awe struck for some reason. I can't look that bad!' She smiled warmly at the programmer, noting the name plate read 'Mark Lange, Director of Programming.'

"Relax, Mr. Lange. I'm not here to complain about the programmin'. You run the hospital's information channel, correct?"

He nodded, his expression still filled with awe and surprised that she knew his name.

"Um, your name is printed on the plate on your desk," she explained.

He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Ms. Marshall, it's just that you've become a bit of a local celebrity lately."

'Shit! I don't need that!' She closed her eye for a brief moment, sighing inwardly. "Believe me, I put my britches on one leg at a time, same as y'all. What I'd like to know is if y'all could run a feed from the internet on the hospital channel."

"Sure! It's not really that difficult to set up," Lange assured her. "Why?"

"I'm putting a video of the services for David Hale on my You Tube account, and thought the patients and staff that couldn't attend would appreciate seein' it."

Lange's face brightened with a wide smile. "That's a wonderful idea, Ms. Marshall! I wasn't able to get to the burial service, and wasn't looking forward to just a few seconds' coverage on the news tonight!"

He explained that he would burn a disc of the service from the internet, so that the services could run several times during the evening on the channel.

"That sounds workable to me," Cat replied. "The account you'll want to access has the same name as my coffeehouse."

"When will it be on line?" Lange inquired.

"About an hour or so. I'll download it once I get home," she replied.

June pulled the rental car into the driveway to Cat's home. 'I don't like her color, she's too pale. I can tell she's in a lot of pain.'

Chuckie was also concerned about Cat. 'She did too much today and Tig's going to have a fit when he finds out about it. We've got to get her inside before she collapses!'

Cat was exhausted. Every part of her body hurt. The short nap she'd had from the cemetery to the hospital had given her enough energy to meet with Mrs. McCargo and Mark Lange. By the time she'd returned to the car, that small reserve was gone. 'All I've gotta to now is download the video to the You Tube account and I can crash!'

She looked tiredly at the front door. It looked as if it were a mile away. 'If I could drag Alex's dead weight from the car to the front door, I can get myself into the house. It's only a few feet,' she persuaded herself.

June unlocked the car doors and shut off the engine. Chuckie jumped out of the back seat as June reached across her friend to open the door for him.

Chuckie pulled the door open as June unlatched the safety harness. "We're home, Miss Cat!" he announced cheerfully.

"I noticed, darlin'," she replied, turning slowly in the seat and sticking both legs out the door.

"You gonna make it OK, chick?" June asked worriedly.

"I think so," she grunted, holding onto the door frame for support. She felt momentarily light headed and leaned against the door.

"Chuckie, would you go on ahead and unlock the door?" she requested tiredly before he could remark on her unsteadiness. "Watch out for Ebony!"

"I accept that!" he scurried to the front door, unlocked it, and started to return to the car to assist her.

Cat held up her hand and shook her head slightly. "Just wait there, I'm comin'," she called, her voice sounding as weak as she felt. She stood straight and carefully planted one foot in front of the other, limping to the porch.

June followed close behind her, watching for any sign that her friend might stumble. She was relieved when they reached the porch and the front door without incident.

Chuckie opened the door, keeping an eye out for Ebony the Escape Artist. For once, the large black feline declined to try to get outdoors. He stood near the door, watching his person limp past the threshold.

"Good boy! Wish you'd behave like that all the time!" Cat remarked.

Ebony rubbed against her leg and rushed off to the kitchen to his food bowl. The sound of crunching kibble told them he'd found his own reward.

"Why don't you sit down, chick, while I warm up the food?"

Cat shook her head slightly, removing her fedora and shrugging out of her coat. "Gotta get that video downloaded." She hung up the duster in the front closet and placed her fedora on the shelf next to her helmets.

"Can't that wait?" June growled.

"Nope. I promised Tig I'd have it ready for him to access as soon as I got home. This is the only way Gemma can honor Hale. It was hard enough for her to miss Kip's funeral."

"Surely he'd understand if you eat first!"

"He would, but I can get this done while you warm up supper. It won't take that long!" Cat replied. "And don't call me Shirley!" she added before limping down the hall to the office.

"Chicken!" June called after her.

"I resemble that remark!"

Chuckie grinned at their friendly word play. "Want some help, Miss June?"

"Sure. Why don't you grab silverware and glasses and set the table while I heat the food?"

"I accept that," Chuckie replied.

Cat settled into the office chair in front of the computer. She wanted to rest her aching head for a few moments. Her eye drooped closed, but she fought the fatigue.

'C'mon, old girl! Alex is dependin' on y'all!' She opened the utility drawer where she kept the cords, flash drives, and other computer supplies and pulled out the cord for the camera. She attached one end to the camera's output, the other into the computer.

Using the mouse, she selected the camera's computer program and downloaded the video into a new file. It didn't take long for the video to transfer from the camera to the computer. Within moments, the computer announced, "File's done!"

'Now, do I edit it, or just leave it as it is?' The professional in her wanted to clean up the video. 'I should edit out that thing at the entrance, so Alex doesn't get upset. But if I do that, I'll have to edit out the parts that reference it!'

She shook her head wearily. 'That's just too damn much work! Alex will get upset, and growl and huff and puff like the Neanderthal he is.'

She accessed the internet and her You Tube account, 'Indianacat'. She'd never downloaded a a video before, but the computer had a tutorial that walked her through the process. She had to read it through several times, as she kept nodding off.

The video eventually transferred from the computer hard drive to her personal You Tube account. She gave it an appropriate title and saved it with a feeling of satisfaction, then repeated the same process for the coffeehouse account.

The microwave pinged for the third and final time. June removed the last plate and set it on the table. "Thanks for your help, Chuckie. I'd holler at Cat that supper's on the table, but don't wanna hear her grumble about my down home behavior."

"I'll tell her!" He scampered down the hall to the office and peeked inside. He found Cat sitting in front of the computer, her head supported by her good hand. The computer screen had gone black.

"Miss Cat!" Chuckie called softly.

She answered with another snore.

Chuckie stepped quietly into the office and poked the arm that was supporting her head. "Miss Cat!" he called a little louder.

"What the - ?" The poke startled her awake. She was a little confused over her surroundings, then remembered what she'd been doing before she nodded off. "Oh, it's you," she moaned.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Cat. Tig's still out of town."

"I know. Didn't mean to nod off like that. Did y'all come in to tell me supper's ready?"

He nodded. "Did you get the video loaded onto your You Tube account?"

"Yup. Didn't feel up to editin' it, so Tig's gonna have a fit about some of it."

Chuckie grinned. "So what else is new?"

"I accept that," she laughed, slowly rising from the chair. "I don't know about you, but I'm famished!"

"So am I," he replied.

'The girls have been jumpy all afternoon about Bachman. Watchin' Hale's funeral might settle them a bit,' Tig mused, moving the computer desk from the kitchen into the living room so they could watch the service in comfort.

Tara and Gemma were in the den, pretending to watch television. Nate had gone on to bed for the night. Tig decided it was the best time for them to watch the services for Hale.

Though he wasn't as computer savvy as Juice, there wasn't a machine that Tig couldn't operate. He soon had Cat's personal You Tube account loaded on the internet. It wasn't hard to find, as she'd titled it 'A Charming Farewell'.

"Gemma! Tara! Get in here! It's ready!"

As the women trooped into the kitchen, he set a roll of paper towels on the sofa. Tara eyed the roll, shrugged, and lounged on the sofa. Gemma curled up next to her.

"Let's get this over with," Gemma stated, her jaw set in a determined line.

Tara cast an astonished glance at her. She still had a headache from the blow to the head the caregiver had given her. 'Does she have to be so matter – of – fact about this? Hale wasn't a bad guy, he just didn't cut the club any slack!'

"I know what you're thinkin'," Gemma stated to Tara. "I didn't hate the kid. He and Jax were friends for years when they were little boys. Had things been different -" Gemma's voice trailed off on a wistful note.

Tig clicked the 'play' icon, then gingerly lowered himself into the recliner, shifting until his shoulder was comfortably positioned against the cushion. While he got comfortable, the computer screen filled with a long shot of the high school gymnasium.

"Did Cat film this?" Tara inquired softly.

"Dunno for sure," Tig shrugged. "She said she would." There was a slight tremor to the picture. He couldn't tell if she had used the camera on her Iphone or the digital camera. 'Doesn't matter, whatever was bein' used was hand held. Accounts for the occasional shake in the picture.'

Though he tried to appear unconcerned over the service about to unfold, the women knew better. Tig's attention was focused on catching a glimpse of his woman. Gemma appreciated that sentiment, as she yearned for a glimpse of her own spouse.

The retractable bleachers had been pulled out on one side of the massive gym. Across from the bleachers, the school's janitorial staff had set up a platform that supported the stand for David Hale's coffin, a lectern, and chairs for the intended speakers. A large projection screen hung from the rafters above the platform.

Jacob Hale had presented a picture disc to Gregory Dubrowski at the funeral home before the private service. "I put together pictures of my brother from when he was kid until he joined CPD," Hale explained gruffly. "Thought it might be useful tomorrow."

Dubrowski reviewed the photo CD after the private service. The pictures were fine, but he found the presentation left a lot to be desired. He spent several hours adding special effect enhancements and edited the pictures onto a DVD, which was playing out on the screen as the mourners began to file into the gym.

Dubrowski's staff had been busy throughout the morning and into the afternoon. They delivered flowers from the funeral home to the gym, and assisted the janitor in setting up for the service.

Most of the floral arrangements had been sent by distant members of the Hale family for the private service. Two large floral arrangements – one from the city and one from the police department - graced either side of the elevated platform. The smaller floral arrangements were placed in front of it.

The school's grand piano was placed on one side of the platform; it's black wood gleaming in the light from a thorough polish. A set of tiered risers stood to the side of the piano, where the school's choirs would stand when they performed. Microphones attached to stands were placed in front of the risers and the piano to pick up the performers' voices.

The American flag was placed on one side of the platform, the California state flag stood opposite it. Two sections of folding chairs were set up on the gym floor, separated by a center aisle.

The gym was filled to capacity. Television camera operators from the various area stations were scattered about to capture the event. Normally, they wore jeans and tee shirts on the job. For this event, they wore business casual attire.

San Joaquin Sheriff Department officers wearing dress uniforms stood at each entrance to the gym, directing the arriving mourners to seats. Most of the residents were sent to the bleachers, while visiting police officers, dignitaries, and those locals participating in the service were sent to the sections of chairs on the gym floor. The front row of each section was reserved for CPD.

Pete was using Cat's digital camera to film footage of the gym before the service. He stood in line with Cat, June, Adrian, and Chuckie waiting to enter the gym. The camera was still operating when Cat's attention was drawn to an intense discussion going on just ahead of them.

"I'm gettin' out my Iphone camera for this, just in case," she murmured to no one in particular, extracting it from her pocket and selecting the camera app, which she set on movie mode. "Keep filimin', Pete. Don't miss a thing."

"OK, Miss Cat," came the reply behind the camera.

Tig leaned forward when he spotted Ernest Darby - the leader of the Nords - standing in front of Cat, whose back was to the camera. "What the fuck is he doin' there? And why the Hell is Cat standin' behind him like she doesn't have a care in the world?" His fingers dug into the arms of the recliner.

"Take it easy, Tig!" Gemma consoled him. "I'm sure if anything had gone wrong, Cat would've told ya."

"That's what you think!" he muttered.

Though it wasn't public knowledge, Ernest Darby had participated in setting the fire that gutted the interior of Caracara Studios a few weeks ago with AJ Weston, Ethan Zobelle's lieutenant. Weston had been identified by Chuckie as one of the arsonists and been arrested for the crime, only to be released from custody later when Chuckie's criminal background came to light. The DA refused to prosecute on the word of a convicted felon.

"He looks practically spiffy!" Gemma observed. Darby was dressed in khakis, a white button down shirt, and a sport coat. His hands were bandaged and there were healing blisters on his face. "Looks like one of his meth labs must've gotten back at him."

"Shhhh!" Tig gestured at her, his gaze fixed on the screen in front of them.

"I just came to pay my respects, like the rest of Charming!" Darby protested as the SJSD officers pulled him one side. They were planning to pat him down to check for weapons and was the first person they'd subjected to such treatment.

"Yeah, right! And I'm Santa Claus!" One of the deputies snorted in derision.

"News flash, Saint Nick!" Cat growled. "Darby's no genius, but he's not dumb enough to pull any stunts in a gym full of cops! If the man says he's here to pay respects, I doubt he's here to sell meth!"

"Take it easy, Miss Cat. Surely the cops know what they're doing," Pete was heard to interject.

"What the -?" Darby turned around, surprised that anyone would take his side. He grinned sardonically at the sight of Cat Marshall fiercely glaring at the deputies.

"Hey, I know you!" Darby exclaimed. "You're Tig's old lady, that coffeehouse owner! Why are ya stickin' up for me?"

"Because they've not patted down anyone else. They're just hasslin' y'all 'cause of your rep!" she grumbled.

"Thanks, I think," Darby replied, inclining his head to her.

The SJSD deputies looked at each other, their faces flushing with embarrassment. "She's right. We haven't frisked anyone else. Darby may be a criminal, but he's got as much right to be here as anyone else."

"Yeah," the other deputy mused. "He's not gonna do anything in front of hundreds of witnesses and television cameras."

"I'm glad y'all see a little sense," Cat drawled, holding up her Iphone so they could see the little camera lens. "I'd really hate to have to turn my recordin' of this little episode over to the news crews."

The deputies glared at her. One of them moved towards her as if intending to take the Iphone from her.

"Aw, shit! Cat, don't antagonize 'em, for fuck's sake!" Tig groaned. He gripped the recliner arms so hard that his fingernails left indentations in the fabric, making Gemma wince.

Cat placed her Iphone in her sling. "Y'all can try to take this from me. Might even succeed. Won't keep me from gettin' the back – up recordin' to the news reporters."

The other deputy saw her determined expression and moaned. "She means it. Besides, if we let Darby alone, she won't have anything to give the reporters."

The deputies stepped aside so that Darby could enter the gym. "You can sit in the bleachers, Darby. Go to the very top where we can keep an eye on you,"

Darby issued a jaunty salute at the deputies. "I'll do that, gentlemen," he grinned sarcastically, then turned back to Cat. "Thank you, Ms. Marshall."

"Don't get the wrong idea, Darby. I don't like you nor the poison you peddle. That doesn't mean y'all deserve to be singled out on a day like today," she replied frostily.

Darby bowed mockingly, his eyes narrowed to slits in response to her comment. Then he turned and headed towards the bleachers.

Tig relaxed his grip on the recliner's arms and leaned back against it with a sigh, glaring at Gemma. "Don't even think of takin' notes!" he growled.

"It never crossed my mind, Tigger!" Gemma smiled sweetly.

'Jesus! That woman's gonna be the death of me!' His hand caressed the bridge of his nose. 'I need a beer! Haven't been this dry in a long time!'

The SJSD deputies watched Darby cross the gym before turning their attention to Cat and her companions. "Damn, Ms. Marshall! When did you become a friend of the Nords?"

Cat stepped up to the officer until she was nearly nose to nose with him. "Get this straight! I'm not a friend to the Nords. I'm an enemy of bullyin'! Wanna frisk me 'cause of my bein' a friend of SAMCRO?' She started to remove her arm from the black sling.

"No, ma'am! That's not necessary!" the other deputy replied hastily. "Please, go on in."

"You're participating in the service, so you can sit on the floor. Afraid your friends have to go to the bleachers," the deputy who'd wanted to confiscate her Iphone stated.

"I see. And what about the Sons? Where are they gonna be sittin'?"

"If we had our druthers, they'd be at the top of the bleachers with Darby. If they dare show up, they'll be sent to the bleachers with the rest of the townspeople," the same deputy replied.

"They're be here," she intoned quietly. "If the bleachers are good enough for SAMCRO and my friends, they're good enough for me. C'mon kids," she strode purposefully past the shocked deputies towards the bleachers. Chuckie could be seen trotting up to walk beside her. They seemed to be in deep discussion about something.

'Wander what that's about?' Tig mused, watching closely to be Chuckie behaved himself. .

"Chick, you don't have to sit with us. It'll be easier for y'all to sit nearer the front," June noted as Cat climbed to the fifth row..

"Don't hafta, ain't gonna, don't wanna," she replied. "We'll get better shots with the camera from the bleachers, anyway."

The camera paused again while they climbed to the fifth row from the floor and sat down. The video resumed with a wide shot of the platform and the twin sections of floor seating.

"Feisty little thing!" Gemma smirked. "Remind you of anyone, Tig?"

He glared at her but refused to rise to the bait. 'I'm not surprised she'd stand by the club,' Alex mused. 'I'm not real happy about her standin' up for Darby, though I agree with the principle. Gonna hafta have a talk with her about that.'

"Well, well, well! Cat the Crusader!" drawled Agent Stahl, standing in front of the group and applauding sarcastically. "Still taking up for society's underdogs, I see."

"Oh, shit!" murmured Cat, Pete, Chuckie and Adrian.

"Aren't you in the wrong section, Stahl? Figured y'all would be hangin' out with the rest of the law enforcement down front," Cat added dryly.

"Oh, don't worry," Stahl replied languidly. "I'll be heading over there shortly. Don't think Tig will take kindly to you championing Darby."

Cat shrugged. "He knows I don't tolerate bullyin' against anyone, includin' bullies."

How's he enjoying the trade show?"

"Quite a lot, thanks for askin'," Cat drawled.

"Still clinging to that story?" Stahl shook her head, as if she pitied her adversary. "When are you going to admit that he's with Gemma?"

"Criminy, Stahl! You're worse than the days when Dire Straights' 'Money for Nothin'' was on heavy rotation on radio!" she snorted. "The only difference is there's no 'off' button on you!"

Chuckie and June snickered, while the younger people exchanged confused looks.

"Very funny," Stahl replied grimly. "You may have everyone else believing that story, but you know that I know otherwise, darlin'!"

"Stahl, all I know is that you're like a duck after a June bug and as annoyin' as a broken record!"

"We'll see about that!" Stahl huffed, striding down the bleachers towards the floor.

"I don't know the woman, and kinda glad I don't," June murmured. "She reminds me a lot of the proverbial bad penny."

"She's always turnin' up when y'all least expect it!" Cat agreed.

David Girton had prepared a tape of instrumental music to be played over the gym's sound system before the service. He'd selected a variety of religious, classical, movie and Broadway tunes, and other selections to fill the silence. The music blended well with the photo montage.

Lyla and her son, Piper, along with Kenny and Ellie Winston, and Ima walked towards the bleachers. Lyla was dressed in a conservative dress and sweater combination, making her look exceptionally pretty and young. She waved at the camera as she and the children walked up to the bleachers.

Tara leaned forward, her eyes narrowing in dislike at the sight of her rival for Jax's attention.

Her nose wrinkled at the conservative outlet the blond actress was wearing.

"She kinda cleans up nice, doesn't she?" Tig noted jokingly.

"I'm surprised she's not in one of her hooker outfits!" Tara growled.

"Meow!" Gemma laughed, nudging Tara's shoulder gently.

"I'm sure she's not there to pay respects to Hale!" Tara scoffed.

"Shut it, women! I'm tryin' to listen to my girl!" Tig growled.

"Hi, Cat. Mind if we sit with you?" Lyla asked.

"Don't mind at all," Cat replied, easing herself to one side. "I've gotta be on the end to get up the front."

"Hi guys," she smiled at Adrian, Pete, and Chuckie, stopping in front of June to hold out her hand. "I'm Lyla. One of the 'old ladies' of the club. Opie's my guy. This is my boy, Piper, and Opie's children, Kenny and Ellie."

June returned Lyla's handshake and smiled warmly. "June Kruckle. Cat's friend from back home. I've not met Opie yet. Frankly, I've not really met any of the club Their president seems to know who I am, but that's about it"

"You'll get to meet 'em today. They should be here soon," Lyla replied, easing on down the row to sit next to Chuckie. The children settled next to her.

"My name is Ima," the blond girl introduced herself to June. "I'm a co – worker and friend of Lyla's."

Cat leaned back enough that she caught Lyla's eye. They exchanging upturned eyebrows.

"Should we save a place for Daddy?" Kenny asked Lyla.

"Got a better idea," Cat replied. "Why don't you three young 'uns sit right behind us and save that row for the guys?"

The three children scrambled to the row behind the adults. They spaced themselves out so that the bench was left open for SAMCRO.

"That's a good idea, Lady Cat!" Kenny whispered enthusiastically. "Daddy can sit next to Ellie and me!"

"Lyla, why don't y'all join the kiddos? That way the family can be together"

Ima stood up to follow Lyla to the next set of bleachers. Pete held up a hand to prevent her from moving. "Miss Ima, I'd be honored if you'd sit next to me."

Ima glanced at Pete without really seeing him. She wanted to sit next to Jax. She'd heard the men talking about Tara's departure at Lin's and wanted to take full advantage of the physician's absence.

"Please, Miss Ima?" Pete added in a pleading voice, making it sound like Ima would be making his day if she granted his request.

Ima couldn't turn down Pete's request without coming off like a prime bitch. She nodded regally and resumed her seat, smiling at Pete, though her eyes reflected her dissatisfaction.

Lyla leaned down to whisper into Cat's ear, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Y'all have gotta tell me later how ya managed to get her to tone it down. And people call me a miracle worker!"

Lyla straightened up and settled next to Piper, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Was that Stahl walking away from here as we came in?"

"Yeah," Adrian replied, turning to look at her. "She was giving Miss Cat trouble, just because she said somethin' against the cops harassin' Darby."

"Oh?" Ima inquired archly.

"Yeah, Miss Cat put 'em in their place!" Chuckie grinned, hastily explaining about the confrontation between Cat and SJSD at the entrance.

Lyla giggled and held up a thumb. "I agree with you on both points, Cat. I don't like what Darby does, but he didn't deserve to be singled out!"

"Don't encourage her!" Tig moaned, straining to catch more than a glimpse of his lady. 'Damn, Pete! Give a guy a break!'

An honor guard of Charming's police force escorted Hale's casket inside the gym from the hearse that carried it from the funeral home. The fleet of CPD vehicles, led by Unser's, had escorted the hearse from the funeral home to the school. The black mourning flags attached to the antennas flapped in the wind and drizzle.

The news cameras outside, wrapped in plastic to protect their delicate mechanisms from the damp, captured the solemn procession. Channel 2's cameraman, over the protests of John Pesta, allowed the school's AV department to tap into his feed, so that the processional could be seen by the attendees in the gym.

He'd gone even further by assisting the school's AV department to set up their cameras in the gym and wiring the feed to the projection screen. The cameras were set up to capture everything that happened on the platform so those in the bleachers had a better view.

The six CPD officers that worked closest with Hale acted as pallbearers. They walked beside the casket as it rode on a wheeled conveyance across the gym floor. They moved in unison, effortlessly lifting the casket and slowly climbing the three wide steps to the platform. They crossed the temporary flooring with military precision to place the coffin on the black fabric covered stand set in the direct center.

The remainder of CPD, led by Chief Unser, followed behind the casket. They held their uniform hats in the crook of their arms. They stood silently to one side of the platform while the pallbearers positioned the casket.

The six officers stepped away from the casket to join their fellow CPD officers. They performed a silent salute, their white gloved hands slowly rising to rest against their foreheads, then slowly returning to their sides. The CPD force then stepped forward to circle the casket.

Gregory Dubrowski stepped forward, reverently carrying a folded American flag. He silently handed the flag to Unser, who held it out to his officers. Each officer placed their hands on the flag until it was completely unfolded.

The officers stepped in unison towards the casket, allowing the flag to hover inches from the top. Slowly, they lowered the flag onto the coffin until it completely covered the wooden box.

The CPD officers formed two lines, one on either side of the casket, then marched slowly across the platform, down the steps, and out of the gymnasium. They would wait in a hallway until the time came for them to return to the gym for Hale's final roll call.

From time to time, the video panned up into the bleachers, then back to the platform as the townspeople were allowed to approach the flag – draped coffin and stand before the platform to pay their respects. Two officers from SJSD stood on either side of the casket, holding ceremonial rifles at rest position in front of them, standing silent watch.

The bleachers and floor sections were filled by Charming's residents. Students from the junior – high, senior – high, and middle schools that wanted to attend had been allowed to join their parents in the bleachers. Tig and Gemma exchanged glances at the absence of SAMCRO.

"Cat and Lyla seem confident they'll be there. Maybe the SJSD Gestapo is searchin' them," Tig growled. He was growing more and more frustrated that he couldn't see much of Cat in the video. She'd not accompanied her companions to the platform.

"She's probably saving her strength for later," Tara assured him.

"Guesso," Tig replied disappointedly.

Once the civilians resumed their seats, the police men and women from the surrounding counties and CHP, along with members of out of state law enforcement entered the gymnasium. They walked single file in front of the bleachers and down the aisle between the twin sections of chairs. The officers wore black bands over the center of their badges in tribute to their fallen comrade.

Without being instructed, the civilians in the bleachers stood up as the law enforcement officers filed past them. The camera shook a little as the person holding it rose with the civilians.

Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger walked up the stairs and crossed the platform before pausing beside Hale's coffin. He'd never met Charming's Deputy Chief and knew little of his record. The unkind pundits would dismiss his presence as a publicity stunt. He didn't care.

'This is the first officer in Charming PD's history to die in the line of duty. He deserves to be honored for his sacrifice. Let the pundits make what they want out of it; this, hopefully, is the last time I have to attend one of these in an official capacity." The governor laid a hand on the coffin for a moment, bowing his head as if in prayer. Then he marched resolutely to the other side of the platform and on to his seat.

Behind him, the long line of uniformed officers walked slowly down the aisle, up the steps, and across the platform. Like the state's governor, many of the out of town officers knew nothing of Hale, except that he was one of them and had paid the ultimate price.

Those from nearby towns and counties who were more familiar with Deputy Chief Hale allowed a hand to rest momentarily on the flag. Some patted the coffin once or twice before striding across the platform and on to their seats.

While their brethren waited for the ceremonial roll call, Charming was being patrolled by volunteers from the Lodi and Oakland police agencies. They had very little to do, as the majority of Charming's businesses were closed for the service.

As the last police officer reached the end of the aisle, a small group of men clad in black and wearing sunglasses entered the gym. Murmurs of surprise drifted from the top of the bleachers and followed the men as they walked down the center aisle.

It wasn't that the Sons of Anarchy were attending Hale's funeral that caused a buzz of surprised murmurs. What made them whisper amongst themselves was to see the club in public without their infamous cuts.

'I don't believe it!' Tig thought in surprise. Tara and Gemma also uttered shocked gasps at the sight of the men walking purposefully towards the platform.

Clay Morrow heard the whispers but ignored the buzz. His focus was on the platform ahead. The hum of conversation came to an abrupt end when Jacob Hale stepped in front of Clay, forcing him to a halt. The Sons stopped behind Clay, standing patiently but tensely, waiting for Hale to make the first move.

Gemma's heart leaped when she saw her husband on the computer's screen. 'Thank you for zooming in on him, Cat – or whoever's mannin' the camera!' Her eyes greedily drank in her husband's features. 'He looks so tired and lonely!'

The close up slowly panned out to show Hale gazing at Clay. It looked as if Hale was sizing Clay up, determining if he could successfully manhandle the taller, heavier man out of the gym.

"Surely he's not going to do anything stupid!" Tara exclaimed, her eyes taking in Jax's tense demeanor.

"I hope not!" Gemma replied. "He can't be that much of an idiot!"

Tig moved to the edge of his chair, his hands clenched at his knees. He, too, waited to see what Hale would do. 'Wish Cat had warned me about this!'

Clay stared quietly at Hale, standing ramrod straight with his hands hanging limply at his sides. Except for the soft instrumental music still filtering through the sound system, the gym had fallen silent.

'How dare they show their faces here!' Jacob Hale, Jr's brows were knitted in anger and hate. His father, Jacob Sr., stood behind his son in silent support.

Margaret Hale rose from her chair and moved to stand in front of her son and husband, her gaze disapproving of their behavior. She turned calmly to look at Clay and the Sons before stepping forward with one hand held out to Clay.

"Margaret Hale's a classy dame," Gemma agreed, relief washing over her as she watched her husband's large, strong hand grasp the delicate one of the mourning woman. She could knew that Clay was offering condolences on the club's behalf.

To her surprise, Margaret Hale embraced Clay for a moment before stretching on tip – toes to buss a kiss on his cheek. She stepped back and lifted a hand in invitation to SAMCRO to proceed towards the platform.

Margaret went a step further by shaking hands with each one of the Sons as they passed her. She uttered a soft and sincere 'thank you'. Both Jacob Hale Jr. and Sr. stood behind her, glaring balefully at the club they filed past.

The gymnasium let loose with a soft sigh of relief that a possibly ugly scene had been averted. One particular soft murmur reached Tig's ears. "Jacob could learn lots about PR from his mother! There's a time and place for everythin', but this is not the time nor the place to show one's ass!"

'There's also a time and place for the use of colorful metaphors, chick!' he heard June whisper. "Stifle yerself!"

"Cat's right, though. Seems like funerals bring out the worse in some people!" Gemma stated.

"Yeah," Tig growled.

The Sons mounted the steps to the platform and stood in a semi – circle in front of the coffin, their heads bowed. The members with military service shifted into a straight line, stood at attention, and saluted the coffin while Jax and Opie respectfully stood to one side. Then the club turned away and strode from the platform to the bleachers. The camera followed their progress until the club passed the viewfinder.

Tears glistened in Gemma's eyes at her boys' salute to the deputy chief. 'We didn't always see eye to eye with him. That was a nice way for them to honor Hale!'

"Jax!" Ima called with a hearty wave. "Come sit by me!"

"Remember who's gonna see this," Clay whispered in his ear.

"No thanks, darlin'. Not enough room for Clay on that aisle. I'll set up here with my step – dad," he replied. Tig could hear movement behind the camera as the men settled onto the bleachers. Kenny and Ellie were heard whispering a greeting to their father.

As the Sons took their seats, three officers from SJSD walked down the center aisle. Two held rifles in their white gloved hands, a third stood between them. The two officers holding rifles moved to stand before the officers that had been keeping watch on either side of Hale's coffin.

Though the third officer couldn't be heard, Tig knew he was giving quiet orders to the quartet. Moving in unison, the officers took one step forward, still holding their rifles in front of their chests. The first pair of officers stepped to the side to allow their brethren to step next to them. The first set faced the audience, the second faced the platform.

The first set of officers then made an about face and quietly marched away from the platform while the second set stepped forward to take their places.

The minister of the Baptist church stepped to the lectern and called the service to order. "Our town has come together once again. The last time, we came together for peace. This time, we've come together not just to grieve, but to celebrate the life of one who made the ultimate sacrifice," the minister stated. He thanked the governor, out of town law enforcement officers and the townspeople for their presence.

He held up a copy of the order of service that had been handed out at the entrances. "If you'll please stand for the call to worship, and remain standing for the National Anthem and the Pledge of Allegiance."

Four uniformed officers from CHP stood in front of the piano while a fifth settled on the piano bench to accompany them. They were attired in their dress uniforms, with black bands across their badges. There was the rustle of hundreds of people rising to their feet and a few nervous coughs.

Three SJSD deputies mounted the platform in the silence that followed. Each carried the US flag, the state flag, and the city flag. They placed the flagpoles in holders, stepped back, and placed their hands over their hearts. The Baptist minister led the audience in the Pledge of Allegiance.

The quartet sang the National Anthem in a four part harmony. The little camera took in the number of people who had placed their hands over their hearts for the Pledge and kept them there for the anthem. The quartet sang simply, with no embellishments or running up and down the musical scale on what should have been held notes.

Though he couldn't see her on screen, Tig grinned when the camera's microphone picked up her comment about the quartet. 'Trust her to give color commentary at a time like this!'

"Thank God!" Cat muttered at the end of the piece. "There's still a few people capable of singin' the thing without makin' a major musical production out of it!"

"Behayve, Lady Cat!" Chibs whispered loudly enough for the camera to pick up.

"I am! I'm just sayin' -"

"Stifle yourself!" June and Clay hissed.

"Hmphf!"

As the audience resumed their seats, the CPD officers marched into the gymnasium, led by Chief Unser. Unser mounted the platform while his officers marched in front of it, coming to a stop and turning so that their sides were to the platform.

Unser looked out at his officers who stood at attention awaiting his order. "About face!" he barked. The line of officers turned in perfect unison to face him.

Unser briefly explained the significance of the roll call, which dated back to the Civil War. "At the end of the day, roll was called in order for the men to honor those who had died, and to rejoice in the presence of those who survived. Roll calls of this nature are utilized all over the country by specialized police units to recognize a member who has given his or her life in the line of duty."

Unser looked at his assembled officers before continuing, "Charming PD doesn't have a special unit like police departments in larger towns. Our specialty is law enforcement."

Unser paused, unable to continue as he fought his emotions. He visibly straightened and began calling the rank and name of each member of his department. In response, each officer called out, "Here, sir!"

"Deputy Chief Hale!" Unser barked.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Unser called again, "Deputy Chief David Hale!"

If a pin had dropped on the floor, it would have been as loud as a clap of thunder.

Unser took a deep breath. "Officer Candy Eglee! Deputy Chief David Hale has made the ultimate sacrifice. Please present him with his medal of valor."

As Unser called the roll, each officer had passed a small plastic box down the line, turning slightly to the officer beside him or her to pass it along until it reached the end of the line. Officer Eglee was the last officer in that line.

When Unser gave the command to give Hale the medal, she stepped onto the platform, holding the box in both white gloved hands. Two other officers followed, moving to stand on either side of the casket.

As the audience silently watched, the two officers slowly drew the flag along the casket, folding it over so that the top was exposed. The officers then slowly opened the lid.

A collective gasp drifted from the audience, as they all knew how badly damaged Hale's head had been after the van ran over him. Officer Eglee stood ramrod straight as the coffin lid was raised, then she stoically removed the medal, bent over the casket, and attached the medal to Hale's chest.

'Damn! The gal has balls!' Tig thought in admiration. 'I know they cleaned him up after the autopsy, but that still takes an iron set!'

As Eglee worked at her solemn task, Unser explained the significance of the CPD medal of valor. "A golden olive branch supports bi – colored ribbons. The olive branch represents the peace that all police officers strive to maintain, while the gold stands for the value of that peace. The ribbons are colored red and white. Red stands for courage, valor, and strength. White represents light, truth, and peace."

Eglee completed her task and stepped back while the other two officers lowered the lid of the casket and drew the flag back over it. Once the flag was properly repositioned, they slowly raised one hand to their cap brims, held it there, then slowly lowered their hands to their sides.

Unser looked at each of officer and nodded slightly, conveying with that nod his pride in them. "Charming Police Department!" He barked huskily. He paused another moment, his gaze looking out amongst the audience for the first time.

"Dis – missed!"

The CPD line turned in an about – face, turning so that their sides were to the platform and the audience. They waited at attention as Unser dismounted the platform and moved to stand before them.

At his order, they marched from the front of the platform to the opposite side of the section where their uniformed brethren sat. They passed directly in front of the bleachers and Cat's camera, then moved down the center aisle to the seats in the front row that had been reserved for them.

After Charming PD were seated, the Catholic priest stepped to the lectern and offered an opening prayer. ". . .and finally, Father, may those of us who mourn find comfort in this blessing from the Native Americans; 'May the sun bring you new energy by day; may the moon softly restore you by night. May the rain wash away your worries. May you walk gently through the world and know its' beauty all the days of your life. Amen."

A responding "Amen," was voiced throughout the gym. Gemma and Tara whispered an accompanying 'Amen'. The priest made the sign of the cross and stepped back to his chair while the high school varsity choir lined up on the risers.

The varsity choir was performing a hymn, 'How Great Thou Art'. David Girton directed them while accompanying them on the piano.

Gemma was finding it hard to keep from crying. Tara's face was wet with tears of loss. 'The last thing Hale did for me was comfort me while Jax was out trying to rescue Abel,' she thought.

She'd tried to give Officer Eglee a statement, and had floundered for the words to describe what had happened. Hale had stepped into the nursery, took one look at Tara, and asked Eglee to give them some time alone.

Hale had sat down on the sofa next to her without saying a word. All he did was put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her head to his shoulder while one hand rested lightly on her thigh. That simple human contact - something she'd needed from Jax and hadn't received – opened the floodgate. Tara had cried like a small, frightened child in Hale's friendly embrace.

'He never asked a single question. I don't think he said anything at all. He just let me cry and comforted me. He wasn't the Deputy Chief that night. He was my friend.'

The choir finished their selection and stepped from the risers, returning to the their seats on the floor. A tall, blond man stepped to the lectern. Tig recognized Chris Bush, his woman's friend and the United Methodist minister in Charming. He had loaned his church's fellowship hall to the rally when the town wouldn't allow her to use the park for it.

"The Hale family held a private service at Dubrowski's Funeral Home last night, at which I officiated. Many residents of our community had written reflections about David Hale on the funeral home's condolence webpage. Margaret Hale selected a few of those reflections and asked me to share them with you."

Bush read from a small stack of papers. He announced the name of the author, then read what that person had shared. Some of the writings elicited laughs, others brought tears. All spoke of their admiration for Hale.

Tig started in surprise when Rev. Bush spoke a familiar name. His eyes narrowed as he concentrated on what his lady had written.

"'David Hale and I often butted heads when it came to my association with a certain 'civic organization'. He saw things as either inky black or pure white. I tend to see all the shades of grey in between.'"

That was met with a few guffaws that Tig recognized coming from the Sons. He also heard Cat's light laugh at Bush's imitation of her drawl. Her laugh made him miss her all the more. 'She sounds strong. Sure as Hell wish I could see her!'

"'Hale was my very first customer. Right on the dot of 'oh dark thirty', also known as six in the mornin' to all y'all.

"'He didn't bat an eye when I charged him for his order. He sat and watched the cats for a bit, then he read a chapter out of a book he'd selected. When he finished the chapter, he put the book back on the shelf, brought his cup and plate to the counter, and wished me luck with my venture. I figured that was the last I'd see of him, much less any other member of Charmin's finest.'"

Another laugh rippled through the gym. Tig's eyebrows lifted in surprise. He'd never known Hale had been her first customer. 'Wonder why she never shared that with me.'

"'Hale returned at openin' time the next day, and every day thereafter. He never once expected a free cuppa, and neither did any of Charmin's finest – though once in a while I'd pour 'em a free cup – just to say thanks for keepin' the peace.

"'Though he covered it up by sayin' he was on hand at the peace rally to be sure everyone behaved, I believe he supported the spirit of it. Interestin' thing was that it was the only time I ever saw Hale outta uniform!"

More laughs greeted that observation. "I don't think I ever saw him in civvies!" Gemma noted. "He seemed glued into that uniform."

"'His last mornin' was spent like every other mornin'. He had his coffee and muffin, watched the cats, read a chapter of the same book, returned his dishes to the counter, and wished Miss Anna a good day."

Chris looked up across the audience, directly at Cat. "Ms Marshall will probably scalp me for sharing this, but I don't think I've got much to worry about," he stated, pointing at his thinning blond hair. "I have it on good authority that the book Hale was reading has been donated to the Charming Public Library. Copies have also been donated in David Hale's memory to every public and school library in the county."

"Dammit!" they heard Cat mutter. "Can't do nothin' on the QT in this town! That wasn't for public knowledge!"

"Stifle yerself!" June and Clay were both heard to mutter back.

"David Hale made the ultimate sacrifice, but he continues to live on, not just in the hearts and minds of those who knew him as brother, son, friend, and police officer. David spent his life in service – to his country and to his community. His spirit of service lives on in others, for he was an organ donor," Bush continued.

"Because of him, a blind person will see again; a weakened heart has been replaced with his strong one. A person on dialysis will no longer have to endure that process thanks to his kidneys. Other viable organs were given to people in need. One would think that he gave enough when he gave his life to protect others. His giving spirit continues to live beyond the bonds of Death. I was proud to be his minister, and even prouder to call him friend."

As Rev Bush shared the information about Hale's organ donation, Alex was surprised to see Cat limp slowly down the side aisle where the high school choirs were sitting. He'd missed seeing any motion in the video to indicate a change in camera operator.

'What the Hell? Is she gonna scalp the preacher after all?'

To his relief, Bobby Elvis, carrying a guitar case, followed her down the aisle. He moved on to the piano and removed his guitar from its' case while Cat stood before the platform with her back to the audience, gazing at the flag covered casket and paying her personal respects. Her treasured black fedora was held in one hand at her side.

As Bobby tossed the strap over his shoulder, two young men carrying their own guitars moved to stand next to him. Another youth, carrying a flute, stood in front of the piano.

The black garbed young men and women of the JR/SR high school choir walked quietly onto the risers. They faced the platform until each row was filled then they turned to face the audience. David Girton stood in front of the ensemble, his hands raised to signal the choir and musicians.

Cat turned from the platform and limped to stand between the risers and the musicians. Alex leaned forward again in his chair, his eyes never leaving her form.

'She's worn out and hurtin'. I can tell by the way she's standin'. The black brings out her paleness. Shows off the cuts and bruises. Wonder if she did that intentionally?'

He drank in her beloved profile, appreciating that the camera operator had zoomed in for a close up of her. He couldn't help but notice the lines of strain amidst the cuts and bruises. 'Dammit, baby! You could've asked 'em for some kind of stool to sit on! Stubborn woman!'

Gemma saw the fierce, protective expression on his face. "She's not gonna ask 'em for a chair, Tig. She doesn't want to show any weakness."

"Fuck that shit!" he growled. "It's not gonna help her to fall flat on her face from exhaustion!"

"Cat's stronger than you're giving her credit for, Tig," Tara observed. "I saw a lot of that same determination at the hospital. She'll get through this with grace in public and then rest when she gets home."

'I hope she's right. But my baby's got a long day ahead of her!' Tig's eyes reflected his worry. 'I'm definitely callin' later to check on her. She sounded OK on the message, but she's good at hidin' shit.'

Cat indicated her readiness to Girton with a nod. He lifted his hands and performed a count. At his signal, the flutist performed a melancholy introduction. The piping accompanied the choir through the first lines of 'Minstrel Boy'. The choir kept the pace slow and mournful. Their young faces showed their own sense of loss as they sang:

'The minstrel boy to war has gone

In the ranks of death you'll find him

His father's sword he hath girded on

and his wild harp slung behind him.

"Land of Song" cried the warrior bard

'Tho' all the world betrays thee.

One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard

One faithful harp shall praise thee."

Gemma felt a tear trickle down her cheek as the song began and reached for a paper towel. Her hand brushed against Tara's, who was openly crying. Both women dabbed their eyes and noses as the young people sang.

Tig sat back in the recliner, wishing that he had been there to lend support to his lady. 'Hell, I would've stood right behind her to hold her up if I had to! It must be takin' every ounce of will she has to stand there like nothin's hurtin'!'

His lips quirked slyly at the black patch covering her bandaged eye. 'Nice touch, that. Like that she's usin' a black sling as well.'

As the flutist held the final note for several beats, the three guitarists prepared their instruments. Girton waved his hand for two beats, then Bobby plucked the first three chords on his guitar, while Steve Hamner joined in with the bass line and JC Berdoo joined Bobby in the underlying theme.

The tempo had picked up considerably from the choir's mournful dirge, but the guitars were playing the music slower than the new song was usually played. Cat took a deep breath just as the intro was coming to an end, wincing slightly at the pain from the binder and her ribs. Bobby moved over to stand beside her and nodded at the other two guitarists, who joined her in singing the first verse of 'Pride in the Name of Love':

"One man come in the name of love,

One man come and go

One man come, he to justify

One man to overthrow

In the name of love

What more in the name of love?

In the name of love

what more in the name of love?"

"She looks good, considering what she's been through," Tara remarked. "I know taking a deep enough breath to sing wasn't comfortable for her."

"Yeah, her voice doesn't usually quaver like that," Gemma agreed.

"I like the black eye patch. Makes her look like someone ya don't wanna mess with!" Tig remarked. "Kinda sexy! Hope she's still wearin' it when I get back!"

Gemma tossed a pillow at him. "You are a fiend and completely incorrigible, Tig!"

"He's a man, Gemma!" Tara retorted.

Tig glared at the women, then turned his attention back to the computer screen. "Do ya mind? I can't hear over your clucking!"

Gemma and Tara looked at each other and grinned moistly.

The bridge was coming up. Cat and Bobby were humming the main theme, while the combined choir resumed the lyrics to 'Minstral Boy', this time keeping the tempo the same as the U2 song.

"The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain

Could not bring that proud soul under.

The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,

For he tore its chords asunder

And said 'No chains shall sully thee,

Thou soul of love and bravery!

They songs were made for the pure and free

They shall never sound in slavery!"

Steve Hamner plucked the melody to accompany the choir. Bobby and JC Berdoo strummed the U2 melody during the bridge.

Bobby and Cat then performed the replacement verse she'd written:

"A van crawls down a night – dark street

Men inside plan an evil deed

Shots are fired into a crowd

The van flees in a burst of speed

A man with a badge

Intends to stop their flight

His sacrifice is the

Greatest love of all.

in the name of love

what more in the name of love?

The flutist piped the 'Minstrel Boy' melody, wailing in counterpoint to Cat and Bobby's humming to the conclusion of the song.

A respectful silence met the joint effort. Cat's eyes teared over to see the police officers rise in silent tribute, followed by the townspeople. The guitars and flute put away while the choir left the risers. Cat stood until the last choir member had descended, then moved to the center aisle.

Bobby Munson took her hand and guided it into the crook of his arm. He escorted her back up the center aisle, his arm helping to hold her erect. The officers remained standing until she'd passed them.

Though the camera operator kept the lens on the platform, Tig's sharp ears caught her weary sigh as she sat down.

"'Tain't tha' most cumfertable cushion, Lady Cat, but ye kin lean against me legs ifn' ye wanna," Chibs whispered.

"Thanks, brother," she whispered back.

Tig had no way of knowing if she took him up on the offer from the camera angle. 'I hope she did.'

The mayor stepped up to the lectern, thanking the governor for his presence and the police officers of the surrounding area for keeping the peace so CPD could pay tribute to their fallen deputy chief. He then spoke of Hale's record during his tenure with CPD.

Jacob Hale stood up and stepped onto the platform, pausing next to the coffin for a moment before continuing to the lectern. To everyone's relief, nothing was said about the drive – by that resulted in his brother's death. He spoke instead of his memories of life shared with his little brother, and his pride in his service to his country, then to his town.

"There's a saying that if the sun shines on the day of your funeral, that you were an okay kind of person. If the day of your funeral is cloudy and wet, it means Heaven itself recognizes a truly great man has left this plane of existence to fly with the eagles."

Hale glanced at the casket and added softly, "Have a great flight, brother."

The Charming United Methodist choir performed another hymn, 'Amazing Grace'. Following the hymn, Gregory Dubrowski stood before the lectern.

"After the closing prayer, please remain seated while the Charming Police Department escorts Deputy Chief Hale to the hearse. Those of you going to the cemetery will take part in the processional and may go to your vehicles after the law enforcement community has departed the gymnasium. When you arrive at the cemetery, please proceed to the graveside to await the short service that will take place. Thank you."

The ministers and priest then rose as one to offer a unified closing prayer. After the prayer, Unser and the CPD officers walked to the casket and the same sextet that lifted the coffin to the platform carried it to the waiting wheeled conveyance.

The audience watched in respectful silence as the casket and the CPD officers walked slowly up the center aisle of chairs, turned, and marched to one of the entrances where the hearse waited.

Whoever was operating the digital camera had paused it and managed to slip outside. There was another slight jump in the picture, then the screen showed the hearse and a magnificent black stallion standing in front of it. A uniformed police officer stood next to the horse's head, holding the reigns.

Though the horse was saddled, Tig instantly knew no one would be riding it. A pair of black boots were strapped to the stirrups, toes pointing to the horse's tail.

"Is that what I think it is?" Gemma whispered.

"Yeah," Tig replied huskily. "Honoring the fallen warrior."

"I thought it was only done for Presidents," Tara remarked.

"Nah. Military uses it to honor a leader or warrior who dies in the line of duty. Didn't they use that same horse for Sack?"

Tara nodded. At the time the gesture had confused her. Tig's explanation put it into perspective for her. 'Sack deserved that honor; he went out fighting for me and Abel!'

There was another jump in the picture, then the camera was looking out of a car window, capturing the long line of police cars waiting to move out of the parking lot. The cars' light bars were flashing, and black flags hung on the car antennas. A black magnetic band covered the center of the Charming Police cars, which were parked directly in front of the hearse.

The limo conveying Jacob Sr., Jacob Jr., and Margaret Hale was parked behind the hearse. Next was the Governor's car, the mayor's vehicle, and many other cars that had been positioned by Dubrowski's staff when the vehicles had pulled into the parking lot.

June's rented Chrysler 300 was in the middle of the line of business owner's vehicles. The camera panned down the lines of vehicles until it came to the end, where a line of Harleys waited.

Tig and Gemma fumed at the snub. Neither liked seeing SAMCRO at the very back of the line. "It's like their ashamed of us!" Tig growled.

"I'm surprised the guys opted to ride in this weather," Pete's voice issued from the screen.

As the camera panned along the waiting vehicles, Tig caught a glimpse of Cat's profile in the passenger's seat. He recognized June in the driver's seat from pictures Cat had shown him long ago.

"I guess they feel Hale's worth gettin' a little wet and dirty over," Cat replied, her head resting against the window beside her. "I'm not real pleased with Dubrowski puttin' the club at the end."

"He's probably figurin' that discretion is the better part of valor," June remarked. "I can understand his reasonin'. Except for the Patriot Riders, the club's are the only other bikes here."

"I noticed that, too, Miss Cat," Adrian piped up. "CHP has motorcycle cops, but none of them rode in. Guess the club has more balls than the cops!"

"You got that right, Adrian!" Tig growled.

"It looks like the Patriot Riders presence might not be needed after all," Cat remarked. "I don't see any of the Westboro idiots – yet."

"Maybe they got scared off," Adrian replied.

"We can hope so. I imagine half the Patriot Riders are here and the remainder are at the cemetery, just in case," Cat noted.

"Not to change the subject, but I liked what you did with that U2 song, Cat," June added. "I don't remember there bein' a verse about a man with a badge!"

Cat grinned wryly. "There wasn't. Bobby Elvis and I put it together. Hope U2 doesn't mind the poetic license!"

"Well I liked it, Miss Cat! Think a lot of people did!" Adrian replied. "You and Mr. Bobby make a great singing team!"

Before Tig could react, Cat glanced at the camera and winked. "I'm already spoken for, darlin'. Tig might not be a singer, but he has other redeeming qualities I appreciate!"

"Eeew!" June laughed, clapping both hands over her ears.

Chuckie chimed in with a chortled, "TMI!"

"You, my dears, have very dirty minds," Cat admonished her friends.

The camera showed the vehicle's slow progress from the parking lot, panning to show the line of vehicles behind the 300, then the long line of cars moving out of the parking lot.

"Is that Trammel directing traffic?" Gemma inquired, leaning closer to the computer screen.

"Yeah, I think so . . ." Tig leaned forward, gazing intently at the officer standing in the street, gesturing with a flashlight in one hand for each vehicle to proceed from the parking lot. 'C'mon, Pete! Don't move the camera!'

"It is Trammel!" Gemma exclaimed, as the SJSD officer's features loomed in the computer screen. "He looks much better."

"Good thing SJSD wears Kevlar under their uniforms," Tig murmured. "Hate that he took one for the club, but glad he's finally up and about."

"Don't remind me. I was really scared for all of you while you were at SJCCF."

'We were kinda scared for us, too, sweetheart.'

The trio watched silently as the processional made it's slow way from the high school to Main Street, passing the boarded up 'Impeccable Smokes', Floyd's barber shop, the diner, and'Charming Pawse'.

Tig experienced a momentary flashback to LuAnn's funeral, when the coffeehouse staff stood on the sidewalk in silent tribute to Otto's old lady. Miss Anna had stepped onto the street to give Otto a bouquet of roses from the staff. The gift took only a few seconds, and Tig had only seen the gesture from his Dyna's rear view mirror, but it had made an impression on him.

"Looks like all the businesses are closed!" Tara remarked, pointing at the closed signs in all the businesses the procession passed.

"Considering how many people were in the gym, I'm not surprised," Gemma replied. "Kinda nice for David to be honored in that way."

"The news hounds are all over this," Tig growled, pointing at the camera crew that the digital feed had captured. "Fucktards!"

"Easy, Tigger. It's their job; after all, Hale is the first officer to die in the line of duty in CPD," Gemma explained.

"That would attract the area media," Tara added.

He shrugged, still not pleased with the media's presence. He'd never trusted reporters and he'd grown more distrustful with it after his lady had shared her own experiences as a reporter. The way the local media had swarmed over the club's war with Zobelle didn't ingratiate themselves with him.

"The leaflet here states we need to turn the radio to AM 530," Chuckie announced. "There's supposed to be a special broadcast from CPD that will be on that frequency."

Cat reached out to the in dash radio, turned it on, and selected the AM band, turning the digital numbers until they read 530kHZ. There was dead silence on the radio.

Far ahead of the Chrysler 300, Chief Unser's patrol car drew level with the CPD parking lot.

The Deputy Chief's Jeep had an awning protecting it and the townspeople's tributes from the weather.

Unser stopped his patrol car a few yards past the CPD lot. His officers pulled to a stop behind him. The hearse stopped right in front of the door to police headquarters.

Mae Lowe had worked as a 911 operator and dispatcher for several decades. She was most senior in the department. She'd never accepted a managerial/supervisory role. She was content to work with the other reps in the dispatch center, dealing with phone calls and talking with the officers sent on runs.

When it came time to determine who would give Hale's 10 – 42 code during the procession to the cemetery, everyone in the department agreed on one person. Mae keyed the microphone when the supervisor gave her the signal. The radios tuned to 530 kHz suddenly came alive with the sound of her calm, unwavering voice as she announced Hale's final dispatch code.

"Two nights ago, Charming Deputy Chief David Hale performed his final act of duty. After a van full of men used semi – automatic weapons to shoot into a crowd of unarmed civilians outside Dubrowski's Funeral Home, Deputy Chief Hale attempted to stop the vehicle from fleeing the scene. He was mortally wounded when the driver of the van refused his command to stop and ran over him. Charming Police Deputy Chief David Hale is code 10 – 42. He has gone home for the final time."

Police sirens from every car in the processional answered the dispatch with a single drawn out bleat. Light bars flashing, the processional slowly rolled on towards the cemetery.

Mae Lowe sat back in her chair, holding both hands against her forehead while tears poured from her eyes. 'I never want to do anything like that again!'

"Police don't use those 10 codes like they did in Vincennes, do they chick?" June inquired.

"Not anymore. Back in the day, the 10 codes were police shorthand, then CB radios picked up on 'em. There's also no universal code used by all departments, so it got a little confusin'."

"So 10 – 100 doesn't necessary mean one has to go to the bathroom?" Chuckie asked.

"Only in the movies," Cat grinned. "Nowadays the 10 – 42 is a ceremonial code used in a situation like this. I recognized the dispatcher's voice. She's been with CPD for a long time. Only fittin' that she got to give the message, in my opinion."

"I've got it now!" Pete exclaimed. "She's a regular, loves the herbal tea and usually comes in after her shift."

"That's the one, darlin'."

The group in the car fell silent as the Chrysler neared the cemetery. Two hook and ladder trucks were parked on either side of the entrance. A large American flag hung suspended from the top of each extended ladder.

"The mayor was right about the large flag between the fire trucks. It's photogenic," Cat drawled.

"Now, now! Don't be catty!" June remarked, her expression completely dead – pan. Their companions moaned.

"I'm sure that will be one of the scenes the media shows tonight," Cat added.

"You were right about the Patriot Riders," Pete observed. "Look!"

The Patriot Riders were lined up on each side of the drive leading to the cemetery. Each member held the flag up high in order to block the view of the mourners from any signs and chants from the Westboro protesters.

"Don't see any of the people from that church," Adrian mused.

"That's the intention, darlin'."

"No, really," Adrian insisted. "None of those people showed up today. They weren't at the gym, and they're not here, either!"

"I find their presence comforting," June murmured.

The drizzle hadn't let off as the procession slowly wound through Charming, led by the riderless horse. The same officers who had presented the flags at the gym had carried them after the horse, walking the entire route in front of Chief Unser's patrol car. They were flanked by the ceremonial rifle carriers.

Townspeople who elected not to go to the cemetery lined the streets. They watched in silence as the sad line of vehicles passed them. Some bowed their heads while others placed their hands on their hearts.

"That's the real story," Cat observed quietly, indicating the residents lining the streets to watch Hale's last journey. "Unfortunately, none of it will make the six o'clock news. The Governor's presence will be mentioned. Snippets from the service and burial will be shown. There'll even be shots of the flag at the entrance. But the real faces of loss won't be seen."

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing, Miss Cat," Chuckie mused. "Maybe the town's mourning should be kept private."

Cat eased her body so she could turn her eye on Chuckie. "You might be right, my friend. You just might be right."

June turned off the ignition and the headlamps to the car. "Looks like we're on shanksmare from here, kids," she noted.

"What's shanksmare?" Adrian inquired.

"That's what I'd like to know!" Tig mused.

"It's an old biker term meaning having to walk," Cat replied.

"Not one I'm familiar with!" Tig snorted, his hand caressing the bridge of his nose. "Where does she get this shit?"

The men in the back seat looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders as if in agreement with Tig's opinion.

"I learned it in a Superman comic decades ago. Lois was infiltrating a motorcycle gang. Clark Kent - also known as Superman - infiltrated the gang in order to protect Lois. His bike broke down and he said he was goin' to have to be on 'shanksmare' because no one would let him bitch ride."

The men looked at each other and shrugged again.

"If you say so, Miss Cat," Pete replied, opening the car door and climbing out. Adrian and Chuckie followed suit while Pete opened the car door for Cat.

June and Cat exchanged wry grins. "Kids today!"

"I accept that!" Chuckie grinned. "Why don't you two wait here in the car until SAMCRO catches up to us?"

"Too late," Cat replied. "Here they come!"

Though damp, the men of SAMCRO looked none the worse for riding in the rain. They'd donned their cuts again, figuring that no one would notice as they intended to stay in the background.

"You a'right, Cat?" Clay asked worriedly. He didn't like how pale she looked. 'Maybe it's just because of all the black she's wearin'.'

"Sure," she replied with an energy she didn't feel. "Let's go."

Lyla, Ima, and the children hurried up to join them. Lyla and the children surrounded Opie while Ima sidled up to Jax. He smiled at her, but when she tried to slip her arm in his, he gently removed her hand from his arm, moving to stand with Opie and his family.

Ima pouted at the rejection. 'I can have any man at my side with a snap of my fingers! I want Jax and could do so much more for him than that doctor! I'd never leave town against his wishes like she did! Why won't he give me a chance?'

The group fell in behind the other townspeople walking to the freshly dug grave. Clay and Chibs lagged behind, both of them keeping concerned watch over Tig's old lady.

"I'm worried about her, Chibs," Clay nodded his head at Cat, who was limping more noticeably than ever.

"Aye. She's tyred an' hurtin'. She shood be hoome, restin'."

Clay snorted. "Try tellin' her that!"

Chibs grinned. "No way, bruther! I dinnae wanna git on 'er bad side!"

Clay grinned wryly. "Is it just the black attire, or does she look as bad as I think she feels?"

"Aye. She luks verra payle. She's willful an' stubbern. She wants ta be hayre, an' she's not gonnae let anythin' keep 'er frum this."

"Keep an eye on her – just in case she gets weak and needs to make a quick getaway."

"Aye," Chibs agreed. He moved forward to take Cat's elbow. "Allow me, sister," he placed her hand in the crook of his arm. "Ye kin lean on me as much as ye wanna."

Tig didn't hear the exchange between his brothers. He suspected from their glances at her that they were as worried about his woman as he was. He relaxed a bit when he saw Chibs allow Cat to take his arm. He knew she was in good hands with her heart brother watching out for her.

SAMCRO and Cat's group, along with Lyla, Ima, and the children, found a place where they could have an unobstructed view of the grave.

There was a stone bench large enough for the four women to sit. Happy and Piney used clean rags they carried in their cut pockets to dry the bench for them.

"You women can sit there," Clay intoned, pointing to the bench. He gazed intently at June, conveying a silent plea for the women to make use of the dried bench.

"C'mon, Cat. Let's sit," she nudged her friend in the upper arm.

For once, she didn't protest that she was able to stand. She gingerly lowered herself to the bench with Chibs' help. He stood behind her, silently offering to allow her to lean against him if she needed.

June settled next to Cat, followed by Lyla and Ima. Lyla patted her lap, inviting Piper to sit down.

He shook his head and leaned against her knees. "I'll stand, Mommy."

Lyla smiled at him, but her eyes betrayed her disappointment.

"They grow up fast, Lyla," June murmured sympathetically. "My daughter was the same way at that age."

The townspeople and law enforcement officers gathered on three sides of the grave. The Hale family occupied the front row of chairs, with the mayor, governor, and city council behind them.

The six CPD officers who had served as pall bearers for the service lined up in front of the hearse's back door, three on each side. Chief Unser slowly drew the casket from the hearse, his officers helping to support it.

Unser turned his back on the casket to lead his department to the grave site. They moved slowly, one step at a time. The color guard preceded them to the newly dug grave.

The CPD officers marched to the grave and lowered the casket to the metal supports covered by a green felt drape. Once the casket was settled, they moved to stand behind the second row of chairs, waiting their turn to perform their last duty for the Deputy Chief.

The graveside service was presided over by the Hale's minister, Chris Bush. He stepped behind the flag covered casket and looked around for a moment. He held both a Bible and a copy of the Book of Worship in his hands. He opened the service with a traditional greeting, "May the Spirit of the Lord be with you."

The mourners responded in unison, "And also with you."

"Let us pray." Bush offered a brief prayer asking God to bring comfort and peace to the family and the town. He ended with ". . .in Jesus' name we pray," to which the gathering murmured a united, "Amen."

The minister looked down at the Book of Worship, quickly reviewing the suggested words of comfort he could read. He shook his head slightly and closed the book.

"All of you are familiar in one way or another with the many words of comfort the Scriptures offer. That Jesus said 'I am the Resurrection and the Life, he that believes in Me shall not perish, but have eternal life.' From the Beatitudes, 'Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.' The Scriptures give us no timetable for when we will be comforted."

Bush looked directly at the Hale family and at the officers of CPD. "There are no words that can take away the grief we feel at the loss of our friend, brother, son, Deputy Chief, fellow citizen, law enforcement officer. We will all miss his presence in one way or another. Those things that made David unique is not in this casket. What lies in this box is a shell that will eventually return to the dust and ashes from which it came.

"Although David is no longer walking this Earth with us, he's not really gone, because he has left friends, family, and co – workers who will remember him each and every day. In time, we will all grieve less and today's pain will eventually become a distant memory."

Bush paused a moment, then read from the 23rd Psalm from his Living Bible. He'd chosen that particular version not due to the contemporary phrasing, but because he found the most comfort in that version than any other.

His eyes returned momentarily to the open prayer book. "Let us pray. Our Father, we commend to you the soul and spirit of David Hale. We ask that you bring comfort to all he has left behind to mourn. We thank you for the years we shared with him, few that they were. We thank you for his service to his country and his town. We thank you for the love we received from him. We ask that you give us strength and courage to leave him in Your care. We ask this in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, who taught us to pray, saying. . ."

Bush's voice was joined by the gathered mourners in the Lord's Prayer. Though she was off camera, Cat's voice sounded strong as she meaningfully recited the words.

'She's just not recitin' those words. They mean something to her,' Tig observed as he listened to her. 'She might have an outlaw spirit, but she has her spiritual beliefs.' Without being aware of it, Tig bowed his head in respect.

". . .and the power and the glory forever, Amen."

There was a slight stirring in the crowd, then a group of young girls, wearing black skirts and white blouses, moved to one side. Gemma smiled at the sight of Tristan Oswald amongst the group of girls.

Gemma had defied Tristan's mother several months earlier by talking to the youngster about her attack at the hands of a carnival worker. Mrs. Oswald had wanted her daughter to stay quiet, even to the police, thinking she was protecting her daughter. Later, Tristan returned the favor by talking her father into putting up the bond for SAMCRO after their assault on the Morado Christian Center.

The girls held a piece of paper in their hands, which they referred to from time to time while they sang the hymn 'Balm in Gilead'. As the young women sang, the officers from CPD walked forward and surrounded the flag draped casket. Chief Unser stood at the head of the coffin. He gave them a sharp command and they bent to grapse the edge of the flag. Then they slowly lifted the flag from the coffin.

They took a step back so that the flag was nearly taunt in their hands. The two officers at the foot of the coffin made the first fold in the flag, bringing one corner to the opposite edge, making a triangle. They made sure the edges were straight and met exactly, pulling it straight and wrinkle - free.

At the head of the coffin, the two officers next to Unser relaxed their grip as the flag flowed from their hands. They maintained a hold on the flag with their other hands to keep it straight and up in the air.

Their outer hands remained raised in front of them until the flag was only being held by their inner hands. Their empty hands became fists which were slowly raised to their hearts, then lowered, palms to their thighs, to their sides.

Meanwhile, at the foot of the casket, the two officers made another diagonal fold. The flag passed through the inner hands of the first two officers, who repeated the ritual of slowly raising their empty fists to their hearts, then lowering their open palms to their sides.

This continued with each fold, the flag passing from one set of hands to the other. Once a set of hands was free of the flag, each officer brought brought their empty fists to their hearts and lowered their empty palms to their sides until the flag had reached the last four officers at the foot of the coffin.

The next to last officers made a horizontal fold of their end of the flag, as the last two officers held the triangle fold. The first set of officers tucked the folded straight edge into the triangle, making sure that there was no unsightly bulge or wrinkle. Then they, too, lifted their empty fists to their hearts, then lowered their open palms to their sides.

The last two officers took one step to the side, then one held the folded flag with one hand on top and one on the bottom while the other officer worked with the triangle. They patted the flag down and smoothed it out, making sure it was tightly compacted and wrinkle free. Once they were satisfied with the finished product, the officer holding the flag presented it to the one who'd checked the folds and tucks.

Officer Cindy Eglee accepted the flat side of the tri folded flag from her co – worker, who held the pointed side to his chest. Officer Eglee executed a smart about - face and walked in front of the Hale family to Chief Unser. She held the flag, the point to her chin, close to her chest.

She extended both arms out to the Chief, one hand on top of the flag, the other underneath it. Unser saluted her, then accepted the flag from Eglee, holding it just as she had. Eglee saluted Unser and stepped aside.

Unser clutched the flag to his chest and walked towards the Hale family, stopping in front of Margaret Hale. He bent over and presented the flag to her. "This is on behalf of a grateful and saddened community," he whispered.

Margaret accepted the tri folded flag, clutching it to her chest. She reached out with the other arm to embrace Unser around the neck, bringing his head to her shoulder. She kissed his cheek and whispered, "It's not your fault. It's not the club's fault."

Tears swam in Unser's eyes. "It shouldn't have happened Margaret. A parent should never have to bury their child."

"If it hadn't been this, it would've happened some other time," she replied. "I've been mentally preparing for this ever since he enlisted. The thing is, no matter how prepared you think you are for such a thing, it still hurts."

She released his neck, lowering her arm to embrace the flag, holding it to her bosom. Unser straightened up and extended his hand to Jacob Sr. The elder Hale stared at the Chief's hand for a moment, then grasped the extended hand limply in his. Jacob Jr refused to accept Unser's hand, choosing to stare stonily ahead as if no one was standing in front of him.

Unser lowered his hand and nodded once before stepping back to his place at the head of the Deputy Chief's casket. The hymn ended as Unser stepped away from the Hale family. The young girls remained standing where they were in the silence that followed.

Off to the side, a line of seven SJSD officers stood at attention, rifles to their chests. At a barked command from their leader, they moved so that they were turned to one side, feet spread apart. The rifles held straight out.

The leader gave another bark, and a volley of seven shots fired at once. The rifles were lowered, then raised and fired again at the leader's command. The rifles were lowered again, the leader barked once more, and the third and final volley of shots rang out. The officers settled back into their original stance.

Those not well acquainted with the sound of firearms jumped when the first volley of the 21 gun salute went off. Others didn't react to it. A bugler standing a few yards from the grave site played 'Taps'. Another bugler, several yards opposite the first, echoed each line.

After the last note faded into the air, Chris Bush raised his hand and recited the formal benediction. Those who knew the words joined in.

"May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious unto you. May the Lord lift up His countenance upon you and bring you peace. Amen."

The officers of CPD removed the white carnations pinned to their uniforms and formed a line behind Unser. He moved beside the coffin, directly in front of the Hale family, and placed his carnation on the center of the coffin. He rested his hand next to the carnation for a moment, patted the coffin, and walked forward. His officers followed slowly behind him, placing their carnations on the closed casket, resting a hand for a moment on it before walking away.

The visiting law enforcement officers, starting with members of the SJSD, followed behind CPD. Each removed their carnations from their uniforms to place it on the casket. All the officers were careful not to place their carnation on the cross carved at the head of the casket.

A double line of out of town cops, dignitaries, and townspeople passed the casket for a final time. Those who knew David Hale either placed a hand momentarily on the casket as a last goodbye. A few made the sign of the Cross as they passed. Others just moved past, pausing long enough to give a look at the coffin.

Cat, her companions, and SAMCRO were the last to pass Hale's coffin for the final time. June stood and inclined her head respectfully before moving forward. Chuckie touched one finger to the gleaming wood and nodded once before following after Pete and Adrian, who'd each laid a hand on the casket.

Cat placed a hand to the side of the coffin. She'd opted not to place her signature black ribboned rose amongst the carnations. 'It just didn't feel right this time,' she reflected. She inclined her head to the Hale family before stepping away to wait for the club.

Most of the men stood respectfully in front of the casket with their hands clasped in front of them. Jax placed a hand on the lid for a moment, keeping his eyes closed to hide his feeling of loss. 'We were good friends for so many years until we came to a fork in the road of Life. Rest easy.'

Clay moved forward to stand beside his step son and removed his sunglasses for the first time since they'd arrived at the cemetery. 'I never expected it to end this way. You were a decent man; stood up for what you believed in. We might not have always seen things eye to eye, but SAMCRO will avenge you.'

He turned his gaze to the Hale family. Only Margaret returned his gaze with a slight nod. Both Jacobs glared fiercely at him. Jacob Jr's fists were clenched at his sides. Clay returned Margaret's nod with a small one of his own before clasping Jax by the shoulder.

"C'mon, Son," he rumbled.

Jax nodded and fell into step with his club president and stepfather. Their departure left the Hales remaining behind to make their final goodbyes in private.

The video ended with Clay and Jax walking away from the grave. Tig stood up and walked to the computer. He wordlessly disabled the internet browser and turned off the computer.

"Well, I guess that's it," Gemma murmured.

"Yeah. I guess so," Tara sighed.

Tig refrained from answering them. He pulled the computer desk back to the kitchen where it belonged while the women returned the sofa to its' original spot.

The women glanced in the direction of the basement door, their expressions slightly apprehensive. 'What could be taking so long?' They each wondered to themselves. 'And how is he accomplishing 'it'?'

Jacob Jr., Margaret, and Jacob Hale Sr., rose from their chairs after SAMCRO departed to stand in front of David's coffin. They were joined by their out of town family who'd come to say goodbye to David.

Margaret still clutched the flag to her bosom, as if it were giving her a measure of comfort to hold it. Jacob Jr draped a protective arm around his mother's shoulder. She seemed frail to him, as if the loss of her younger son had taken all her energy.

The roar of Harley engines erupted from the driveway. Jacob Jr. stiffened at the sound, his heart hardening in anger. He gazed intensely at the casket bearing his younger brother's remains and inwardly swore, "I swear to you, David, I'll not rest until I destroy SAMCRO. I'll win the mayor's seat and will turn this town against them for good. They aren't going to get away with killing you!'

Bachman knew that eliminating the caregiver's body would be a time consuming task. There were many ways to get rid of unwanted bodies, but the best ones were those that didn't make a lot of noise.

Once he locked the basement door behind Tig and the women, Bachman began the task of mixing the various items he'd requested in the slop sink. Individually, the ingredients were harmless. When combined in the right amounts, Bachman turned the items into a chemical that would slowly disintegrate the remains.

Once the mixture was ready, Bachman turned to the leather chaise and lifted the lifeless body of the caregiver in his arms. He carried Amelia to the slop sink and stuck her feet in it. The mixture immediately set to work on the body.

'This is gonna take time, and I'll have to recharge the mix several times. Hope there's a lot of music on that thing,' he mused, allowing the caregiver's lifeless body to lean against him as the mixture broke down the organic components.

Bachman nodded in time to the music, sometimes smiling ghoulishly at the titles that issued from the laptop. 'I didn't think Tig would pull it off. I know he had help with it. Gonna have to check out that You Tube account later. Whoever helped him definitely knows music.'

It wasn't until several hours later that Bachman had the opportunity to check the laptop. By that time, all evidence of Amelia's body were gone. Her remains had been dissolved by the mixture, and were now merging with the Klamath Falls sewer system.

Bachman cleaned up the sink, ensuring that no evidence had been left behind. The items he'd used to make the mixture were things that any person might have in their garage or basement, so he didn't worry about disposing of the few left overs. Instead, he placed them on shelves with similar items where they might come in useful for other, more legitimate purposes.

Bachman turned his attention to the laptop. The music continued playing, though the screen saver had come on many hours earlier. Tig hadn't changed the setting to the screen saver. Instead of a blank screen, the saver was set to a slide show.

Bachman stared intently at the many pictures that swam across the screen. Some were cartoons, some were of a few actors, and some were actual pictures of a small, grey haired woman in glasses wearing cat themed shirts.

'She's a rider, and that's quite a large sized machine for someone that small. I heard rumors that Tig had hooked up with a lady rider. Guess that must be her. Bet she's the one who set up the music for him.' Bachman touched one finger to the laptop's built in mouse area, de – activating the screen saver.

The You Tube account appeared on the screen. Bachman read the account name, Indianacat. He stopped the music file, noting the label read 'BHL'.

'I'll bet that means 'Bachman's Hit List'. Broad has a sense of humor. She needs that to put up with Tig!'

He scrolled through the other files, noting one read 'Peace Rally Intro'. He frowned intently. He'd heard from SAMPOR about Tig's old lady getting injured after hosting a rally against LOAN. Many of SAMPOR's men, including the chapter president, held a high opinion of her.

'Tig's done pretty well for himself. He'd better treat that woman right. With SAMPOR in her corner, if he ever wrongs her, that entire chapter will be all over his ass like white on rice!' He smiled in cold satisfaction and turned off the laptop.

The intercom that once constantly announced pages for staff doctors to contact the switchboard had given way to pagers and cell phones. Part of Mark Lange's work with programming the hospital information channel was providing twice daily devotional readings. The intercome was rarely utilized for any other announcements unless there was a major emergency. Therefore, no one was surprised when the intercom system chimed that evening. Many of the employees, along with patients and visitors stopped what they were doing to listen to the reading. That's when they received a pleasant surprise.

"Before beginning the devotional this evening, I'm happy to announce that our hospital information channel will be broadcasting the entire memorial and burial services for Deputy Chief David Hale. The services were video recorded by a citizen and have been made available to the hospital at no charge. We'll begin the first broadcast at 8pm."

Mark Lange paused a moment, listening to the sound of applause coming from the lobby. "And now, our evening devotional."

Mrs. McCargo's eyes narrowed at the announcement. 'I wonder if Cat Marshall had something to do with that. It just seems strange that she shows up here, then the hospital suddenly has a video of Hale's service!'

Her child stirred, capturing her immediate attention. He was waking from another brief nap.

"I'm thirsty, Mommy," he whispered. "Can I have a drink?"

"You sure can, honey. Here's your water," she raised the bed so he could drink without getting wet. She noticed that he was less pale than before, and his eyes were clear.

He sipped through the bendable straw, then lay back against the pillow. His eyes fluttered closed, then opened again. "I still hurt, Mommy."

"I know, baby. It's going to hurt for awhile. Like when you had your appendix out."

A nurse bustled into the room to check on him.

"How bad is the pain, Reese?" she asked softly.

"It hurts bad. Big bad," he replied, trying hard not to cry from the pain.

Mrs. McCargo reached into her pocket again, feeling the business card. Reese's pain renewed her anger against SAMCRO. 'He's trying to be so brave. He's just a baby! He should be outside playing, not going through this!'

The nurse had a small plastic cup in her hand and extended it to the child. "This will make the pain hurt less, Reese."

He took the pill in the palm of his hand and popped it in his mouth, accepting the straw from the nurse. He sipped enough water to wash down the pill and relaxed against the pillow again.

By the time the nurse lowered the bed to a resting position, Reese had drifted off to sleep again. She turned to speak with the child's mother. "He's really doing much better, Mrs. McCargo. Sleep will help him heal. The tests showed the operation was a success, and he won't need further surgery."

"I know. Dr. Gallagher updated me earlier. It could've been much worse," she replied.

"Did Reese eat his dinner?"

The mother nodded. "I never realized how much food was considered part of a liquid diet. I think he enjoyed the Jell – O the most."

The nurse smiled. "Most children do. Are you going to watch the service later?"

"Definitely. Any idea who provided the video?"

The nurse shook her head. "None. Whoever made it available gets a big thanks from the staff that couldn't attend due to our schedules. A lot of us respected the Deputy Chief; now we get to pay our respects."

When the video aired later, Mrs. McCargo watched intently, keeping the volume low so she wouldn't disturb her child. She was fascinated when Cat Marshall challenged the deputies' treatment of the Nords leader, and her verbal clash with the Federal agent.

'I see she has respect for most of law enforcement, as long as they respect people in general. Apparently she's had run – ins with that Fed before.'

What fascinated her most was the tribute that the motorcycle club paid to the fallen officer. She was initially surprised that the club had dared to attend the service. The absence of their cuts was significant. Their tribute touched her heart and made her rethink the idea of suing the club.

After the musical tribute provided by Cat Marshall, Bobby Munson, and the combined JR/SR High School choir, Mrs. McCargo made her final decision. She pulled the business card from her pocket and dialed the telephone number.

"This is Mrs. McCargo, Reese's mother," she announced into the answering machine. "I decided against filing suit against SAMCRO -"

The answering machine beeped, replaced by a slight shrieking noise and the attorney's voice. "Wait! Don't hang up. Let me turn this off so we can talk, Mrs. McCargo."

There was another shriek before the machine went silent. "Sorry, ma'am. Are you serious about not suing SAMCRO for your son's injuries?"

"Yes, I am. The drive – by wasn't their fault. One of the men responsible for the shooting is in the jail ward of the hospital. He's a member of a motorcycle club in Lodi. It's that club that we need to be suing. Not the Sons."

"B – but, Mrs. McCargo! An unknown outlaw club from Lodi won't bring you the satisfaction that suing SAMCRO will provide!"

"You mean their pockets aren't as deep," she retorted. "If you don't want the case, I'm sure some other ambulance chaser will!"

"M – Mrs. McCargo, it's not that I don't want the case," the attorney sputtered. "I just wouldn't be doing right by you if I didn't point out all the alternatives!"

She smiled grimly. "So far, I haven't heard you offer any alternatives! I suggest that you start looking into the name of this Lodi club, and that you start now, if you want your percentage in the long run!"

She disconnected the call and hung up the phone, a grim smile of satisfaction crossing her face. 'I want the right persons to make things right by my boy. That idiot attorney should be happy I'm not making him go after LOAN!'

Cat, June, and Chuckie had just sat down to eat when Cat's cell phone went off.

"Is that the two – way?" June inquired. "Alex has incredibly bad timing!"

Cat shook her head. "Nope. Other cell." She pulled the Iphone from her pocket. "Cat speakin'."

"It's Clay. Need to talk to ya," the deep voice rumbled in her ear.

"Checkin' up on me, prez?" she replied tiredly.

"Can't it wait?" June grumbled. "It's supper time!"

"I won't keep ya long," he assured her. "I'll admit to bein' worried about ya, but also needed to share intel."

"I'm listenin'," Though she already knew what Clay was going to tell her, she gave him the courtesy befitting his status as club president.

"We've got a lead on Abel. He was last seen with Cameron Hayes in Vancouver. We're ridin' up North tomorrow. Gonna spirit Gemma across then search for my grandson. Guess I don't have to tell ya what that means."

"Nope. Our mutual wooden friend warned me this was comin'. I appreciate hearin' it from y'all."

"What the fuck was he doin' tellin' ya about this?" Clay roared.

Cat winced at the loud explosion in her ear.

"Uh, oh!" Chuckie muttered.

"Relax, Clay. He called to ask my help with a political venture and mentioned you were going to go North of Tacoma for a trip," she replied reasonably. 'Please catch on, Clay. I just don't feel like gettin' up or sendin' June and Chuckie away so we can talk.'

Clay did catch on. He scrubbed his face with one hand. "You're right, Cat. Sorry for yellin' like that. Just didn't expect Oswald to take it on himself to fill ya in. What kind of political offer did he make to ya?"

"You'll find out eventually; he asked me to run for a seat on the council in case he loses the primary race for mayor."

Clay was momentarily surprised, then his mind ran through all the advantages to having another ally on the council. 'Shit! There's no guarantee our current ally will get re elected, especially if Hale finds 'em out. Cat's already known as a friend of the club, he can't hurt her with that.'

Cat was concerned over Clay's silence. She'd expected to hear another alpha male roar of outrage. "Clay? Y'all didn't pass out on me, did ya?"

"No, Cat. You just caught me off guard."

She sighed. "I suppose y'all are gonna tell me it's a bad idea."

He laughed humorlessly. "Actually, I think it's a good idea, but we can discuss it later."

"The fun part's gonna be gettin' Tig to agree to it," she mused.

'He'll prolly agree to that easier than he'll agree to lettin' Kozik patch back in!' Clay rubbed his eyes and replied, "We'll get 'im on board. Is there any message you want me to pass along tomorrow?"

"Nah. I'll probably talk to him later. Y'all are welcome to give him a hug from me," she replied.

"Glad ya didn't ask me to give him a kiss!" Clay laughed. "Is Chuckie still with ya?"

"Yeah, he's stayin' here tonight. Tig shouldn't blow his stack since June's here to guard my virtue! Speakin' of Chuckie, has the insurance settled yet on Caracara?"

"No, they're still draggin' their feet. The DA droppin' the charges against Weston didn't help us any." Clay wondered what the insurance had to do with Chuckie. 'Knowin' Cat, I'll find out soon enough."

Cat glanced at Chuckie, who nodded slightly. "There's some new information to share, it might help the cause. I just learned of it today. Did y'all see Darby at the service?"

"Kinda hard to miss him. He looked a bit well done."

Cat grinned tiredly. "It wasn't because one of his meth labs blew up on him. Chuckie told me that Darby was the man he drug out of the burning building. The one Weston slugged."

Clay's eyes brightened. "Why the Hell didn't he mention that before?"

"I asked about that.. . ."

Chuckie intently watched the exchange between Cat, Earnest Darby, and the SJSD officers. There was something familiar about Darby, but he wasn't able to place it right away. As Darby walked away from the entrance and passed into a darker area of the gym, Chuckie's eyes lit with recognition.

He shuffled from one foot to the other while Cat snarked at the deputies, wanting to share the information but not wanting the officers to overhear it. 'The last time I told the cops what I knew, they ignored it because of my record! I know Miss Cat will find this information helpful!'

"You gotta go to the bathroom, Chuckie?" Adrian whispered. "You're doing quite a two step there."

"I'm fine. Just gotta tell Miss Cat somethin' important."

"Try not to fidget so much. The cops might decide to frisk you and make her upset again."

"I accept that."

The officers waved Cat and her group on into the gymnasium. 'Man! She can move pretty fast when she's pissed!' Chuckie hurried to fall into step beside her. "Miss Cat?"

"I'm fine, Chuckie. Just aggravated by those cavemen!" she assured him.

"I accept that. Gotta tell you something important. It can't wait."

Cat turned her good eye to him, not stopping her forward movement to the bleachers. "I'm listenin', darlin'. What's up?"

He pointed at Darby, who was climbing to the top of the bleachers. "I know that man."

"Who doesn't? He's well known for his meth makin'," Cat replied.

"Not for that. He's the guy I pulled from the fire at Caracara. That's how he got burned up. Westin slugged him, knocked him out before setting the fire. I think Westin wanted him to die in the fire."

The words came out in a hurried, rushed whisper, but Cat had no difficulty understanding what Chuckie was telling her. "You're sure of this?"

"Absolutely, Miss Cat. I pulled that man out of the fire. That's how my hands got burned, beating out the flames on him."

"Did you tell the cops or Clay you saw Darby?"

Chuckie shook his head. "I didn't know who his name at the time. I told the cops Westin had two men with him. Now I've got a name to add to it."

"We'll tell Clay later today. Now's not the time, darlin'."

"I accept that" He stepped back to follow Cat to the fifth row from the floor. She assured her friends they'd get a better view for the recording.

Cat sighed and added, "If you hadn't called, I would've had Chuckie call y'all after supper. Do y'all wanna talk to him?"

"Yeah."

Cat put the phone on speaker mode and slid it across the table to Chuckie. He looked at it like it was a rattlesnake threatening to bite him.

"Go ahead, Clay. You're on speaker. Be nice," Cat warned him.

"You sure the other guy involved was Darby?" Clay growled.

"Tall, bald, bad attitude," Chuckie replied.

"Yup, that's Darby a'right. You need to call the adjuster and give 'im that intel as soon as possible."

"Is it really going to help? The DA didn't seem interested in what I had to say about Westin," Chuckie observed.

"Insurance claims aren't tied up in legal bull shit, Chuckie. Call the adjuster, I'll have Bobby give ya the number. Give him the intel. Tonight."

"I accept that."

"Cat, Tis is gonna have my guts for garters when he sees me tomorrow!"

"What're y'all talkin' about, Clay?" Cat replied innocently, raising her finger to her lips to keep her companions from laughing..

"Don't pull that innocent shit on me!" Clay growled. "I got a call from the attorney representing that kid that was shot at Sack's wake. The mother's droppin' her suit against us in favor of the Calavarez. I know ya had somethin' to do with that!"

Cat sighed in resignation. "Jesus, Clay! I had no idea the mother was gonna sue all y'all, but glad she changed her mind."

"Bull shit, woman! Who else had an opportunity to change her mind?"

"Y'all sound like you don't appreciate her change in tune!" Cat remarked.

Clay snorted, trying to keep from laughing. "I do appreciate it, but dammit, Cat! It could've waited a day or two!"

"Whatever. I merely told her one of the shooters was in custody in the hospital, and I planned on checkin' on the kid to make sure he was getting' what the fund is payin' for. If Mrs. McCargo opted to change her mind, it wasn't on account of me!"

"That's your story and you're stickin' to it, eh?" he grumbled.

"Works for me!" she replied airily.

"At least do me a favor and take things easy for awhile, will ya?"

"Way ahead of y'all, Clay. Takin' tomorrow off from everythin' and everybody – 'cept for Tig."

"Good," Clay rumbled. "I'll try not to keep your man away from ya much longer. Thanks for everythin', Cat." The line went dead and she retrieved the Iphone, turning it off and slipping it back in her pocket with a tired yawn.

"My! That was interesting! Eat up before somebody else calls," June stated dryly. "Or before you fall asleep in your meat loaf."

"How come you're not having ketchup with it?" Chuckie asked, referring to the movie Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Cat pointed to the red sauce. "I think that's ketchup. Or is that tomato sauce?"

"Same thing. Shut up and eat!" June ordered.

"Um, isn't that a conflict of instructions?" Cat smirked.

June glared at her, utilizing an appropriate form of digital communication. Cat meekly picked up her utensils and dug in. She was hungry, and June had ordered her favorite comfort food. She was so tired that she wasn't sure she'd be able to do the meal justice.

"Does Clay need me back at the clubhouse?" Chuckie inquired.

Cat shook her head as her mouth was full. She held up one finger to indicate she'd answer in a moment. She chewed, swallowed, and replied, "Nah. Guess he'll have Bobby call the adjuster and have him call here. Do y'all mind takin' him back to the garage tomorrow, kittenface?"

"I accept that," June grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Given any more thought to where y'all heard that guy's voice, chick?"

"Yup. It's drivin' me up the wall, kittenface. I know I've heard that voice before, but can't place it for the life of me!"

"Well, you'll know tomorrow, why worry about it now?" Chuckie asked.

"It bugs me!" Cat growled good naturedly. "But Chuckie's right, lettin' it get to me ain't gonna do me any good. We'll know the answer soon enough."

"What was it Bill said about waitin'?"

Cat grinned at June. "That it would be the hardest part." She lifted her glass in a toast. "To absent friends!"

Chuckie and June repeated the toast, knowing she was thinking of her absent husbands.

Cat smothered a large yawn with her hand and pushed her plate aside. "I can't eat another bite, kittenface. I'm all in."

"Hell, y'all barely ate enough for a mouse!" June retorted.

"I've seen mice eat a lot more than that," Chuckie added.

"Can't y'all try a little more?" June coaxed worriedly.

"Relax, Momma. Maybe I'll knosh a little more later on. Right now, all I want is to go to sleep."

"Gonna call Tig first?" Chuckie asked.

Cat rose gingerly from the chair, holding onto the table for support. "I'll wake up when he calls. Y'all know where to find stuff. I'll catch y'all later." She limped from the kitchen, Misty leading the way with her tail held high like a beacon.

Chuckie and June exchanged worried glances. "Clay's right. She did too much today," Chuckie observed.

"I was afraid she would, especially drivin' herself to the school this mornin'. She's proud, didn't wanna burden me with takin' her," June replied.

"Not your fault, Miss June. She's grown. Tig has a heck of a time with her, if it's any consolation."

June grinned wryly. "Chuckie, I've known Cat a lot longer than Alex. I'm just worried that she pushed herself too hard today. Especially after reinjuring her ribs."

"Well, she's said in front of us that she's taking time off tomorrow," Chuckie pointed out.

"True," June drawled. "And I'm tempted to take her away from this madness for a few hours!"

Chuckie pondered that comment for a few minutes, sipping his own drink. "You know, that might be a good idea. You two should have one of those - what do you women call 'em?"

"A girl's night out?"

"I accept that!" Chuckie laughed. "You two should take a girl's night out, forget about Charming and the club and the coffeehouse and the hospital."

"Might mean I'll have to knock her out and kidnap her to get her away from here," June replied with a grin.

"I accept that, too. Be glad to help you out with that."

"Don't tempt me!" June giggled.

Ebony poked her thigh with his paws. He was standing on his hind legs as he begged for a table treat. His expression clearly said, "Hey! Human being! Feline in dire need of sustenance here! Feed me! Pay attention to me!"

"OK, big boy! Here's a bite for y'all!"

Ebony accepted the tid bit from June's hand, licking the morsel from her palm with a gentle stroke of his kitty tongue. He let the treat fall to the floor, picked it up, shook his head, dropped it onto the floor again and began nibbling.

"Why does he do that?" Chuckie asked.

"Food always tastes better on the floor to a cat," June explained.

"I know that, but why does he shake the food before eating it?"

"To make sure it's dead," June grinned.

"Oh. I accept that, I guess," Chuckie wrinkled his nose at the explanation. 'Seems to me if it's cooked, it's dead.'

They cleaned up the kitchen, placing Cat's leftovers in the refrigerator for a late snack or another meal. June invoked seniority rights to insist Chuckie take the library bed for the night. "I can sleep in the main bed with Cat. I'm sure Alex won't mind."

"Knowing Tig, he'd probably wish he were in the middle," Chuckie joked.

"I don't accept that!" June retorted. "Let me get some stuff outta the room and you can have it." She retrieved her knitting bag, night attire, and a change of clothes for the following day, moving the items into the master bedroom.

Cat was lying on the bed, still fully clothed, except for her boots, which were thrown in a corner. Misty was curled up at her side. Cat's good arm encircled the little black feline. Both human and feline were sound asleep.

June and Chuckie grinned at the sight. "She wasn't kidding about being worn out," Chuckie observed.

"I'm gonna sit and watch TV in the bedroom," she announced. "Make yerself at home."

"Won't the television disturb Miss Cat?" Chuckie asked worriedly, thinking of her light sensitivity.

"Normally it would. I slipped a 'mickey' in her drink."

Chuckie turned an uncomprehending gaze on her.

June rolled her eyes and sighed. "Haven't you ever heard of a 'mickey finn'?"

Chuckie shook his head.

"Jesus! It means that I doctored her drink; slipped one of her more potent pain pills in it. She'll sleep through an earthquake."

"Shhh!" Chuckie wagged a warning finger at her. "Don't say that too loud in this state!"

June grinned at him. "Sweet dreams, Chuckie!"

"Good night, Miss June."

Chuckie wandered off into the office to use the computer. Ming followed Chuckie into the office.

June covered her friend with a blanket from the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. 'When she wakes up to talk to Alex she can change into a gown. At least she'll be comfortable.'

She snagged the remote to the television and the two – way phone, carrying them to the chair on Alex's side of the bedroom. She sank into the chair and turned on the television, channel surfing until she found something of interest. She set the remote and the two – way in her lap, gathered up her knitting, and resumed work on a new project.

Ebony watched her knit, his green eyes gazing intently at the moving yarn. He reached out a tentative paw, intending to bat at the intriguing string. He was rewarded with a gentle reprimand from his 'Aunt'.

"Don't even think of it, big boy! I gave you a mousie, did y'all tear it up already?"

Ebony flicked his tail in disdain, padded out of the bedroom, then returned with a very dilapidated knitted mouse. He dropped the mouse on the rug, batted at it, then lay on top of it.

"OK, it's not torn up yet, but it's gettin' there!" she laughed softly.

Ebony purred and rolled over onto his side, grabbing the grey knitted mouse in his paws. His back paws kicked at the mouse while he rubbed his face in it's body, inhaling the aroma of catnip. Then he settled down to thoroughly lick the mouse.

"Guess I'll knit a few more for y'all while I'm here," June smiled, resuming her project now that it was safe from the large feline's claws.

The landline phone rang, making her jump in the seat, but Cat slept through it. Not a single muscle stirred. She glanced at the clock, thinking the caller might be Cat's father, but she'd called him earlier that day and explained he wouldn't be able to reach her that night. 'He sometimes forgets. Hell, as much as he's gone through, he's entitled to forget things!'

She relaxed when Chuckie didn't knock at the door to get her or Cat to take the call. 'Chuckie knows what to tell anyone callin' about the pan head. He might be talkin' to the insurance adjuster about that Darby fella.'

She knitted while watching television, includng the news coverage of Hale's funeral. It was the lead story on Channel 2, and she was impressed by Windover's narrative. She was further intrigued to see footage of the townspeople lining Main Street as the procession made its' way to the cemetery.

She knew Cat would approve of the young reporter's coverage and made a mental note to have her watch it on line. She got up to get something to drink from the kitchen. She checked the door locks, pleased to find the house buttoned up safely for the night.

A thin stream of light shone under the library door as she passed back to the bedroom. "Good night, Chuckie!" she called through the door.

"Good night, Miss Julie. I took care of all the messages about the motorcycle and spoke with the adjuster. He's coming to the garage tomorrow to take another recorded statement from me."

"Sounds like a plan. Is Ming with you?" She'd noticed that the Siamese seemed to favor him. It wouldn't have surprised her to learn that the finicky feline had chosen to hang out with Chuckie and snub the women.

"Yes, ma'am. Do you want me to put him out?"

"Nah. Enjoy his company," June grinned.

"I accept that!"

A loud yowl from the Siamese seemed to second the opinion. June shook her head and walked back into the bedroom. She turned on the small stereo on the bureau to listen to music. The tape Cat had made that she liked to listen to when Alex was away on a trip was in the player. June was intrigued by the various selections.

'She did the same thing with Bill. Wonder which tunes make her think of Alex and miss him less and how different they might be from Bill's tunes?'

Several hours had passed since they'd watched the video of the services for Hale. Nate was still sound asleep, but Tig and the women were wide awake. The trio discussed the next day's itinerary.

"Daddy's supposed to check in to the nursing home before supper. He'll need someone to help him get settled in," Gemma remarked.

"Don't even think it, sweetheart," Tig admonished. "You show your face in public and everybody that ever watched 'America's Most Wanted' will clog the cell towers."

"I know, Tig!" Gemma retorted. "I thought Tara might go with him, she's a doctor, speaks their language. At least he'll have a familiar face with him for a bit."

"I could do that," Tara assured her.

"There's some power of attorney papers Rose had drawn up for the nursing home. If we can get Daddy in a clear moment for him to sign them, we could have you assume that role for him," Gemma added. "I suspect the boys are thinkin' of gettin' me over the border. Why else would they be comin' here tomorrow?"

Tig nearly choked on his soda. "Shit! They miss you, Gem! Isn't that reason enough?"

Gemma gazed intently at him. "Not with my boys. They always have an ulterior motive. Besides, Wayne and I had considered tryin' a run for the border. Kinda hard to do in a cop car."

"Yeah, that would've drawn a little unwanted attention," Tig agreed.

"So tomorrow, we pack up shit. There's stuff I want that shouldn't be sold in the estate sale," Gemma continued. "Personal mementos. We can store 'em in the basement, and Clay can arrange to get 'em to Charming when you boys get back."

"That'll work," Tig nodded. He didn't intend to mention the bail hearing to Gemma or Tara. That was for their men to handle. He'd have enough on his hands just sharing the intel with Cat.

They fell into an uneasy silence broken only by the sounds of the night. Crickets performed a musical number, while an owl hooted in the distance.

The sound of approaching footsteps startled them, causing them all to leap to their feet. Tig's hand supported his shoulder as he moved, a twinge of pain reminding him the injury was still there.

Bachman walked into the room, looking as immaculate as when he'd arrived earlier that day. His satchel was slung over one shoulder.

Tara forgot Tig's earlier warning not to speak directly to the cleaner and inquired into the caregiver's whereabouts. She felt like a cold hand from the grave touched her spine when he slowly turned his gaze on her, uttering a two word response.

Tara stepped back from the piercing gaze and looked away from Bachman. 'Jesus!'

Gemma handed over a wad of money she'd found in her father's desk. Tig didn't ask about the caregiver's remains, just invited Bachman to help himself to anything in the house to make up the difference in his fee.

Bachman strode to the little table that held the bronze 'Praying Hands' statue, picked it up and put it under his arm. Then he turned and walked out the front door without a word or backwards glance, closing the door softly behind him.

None of them moved when they heard the Harley roar to life in the driveway. It wasn't until the engine faded in the distance that their collective paralysis broke. Tig's hand rubbed the bridge of his nose while Gemma and Tara collapsed to the sofa.

"Holy fuck!" Gemma exhaled. "That is one cold hearted asshole!"

"But he's good at what he does," Tig replied.

"Think there's a new patch of concrete in the basement?" Tara inquired wryly, still shaking from her brief experience with Bachman.

"Wanna go look?" Tig challenged.

"Hell, no!" Tara held up her hands in protest.

"I'll go with ya, Tigger," Gemma replied.

They walked to the door of the basement, Gemma hanging back behind Tig. He opened the door, turned on the light, and started down the stairs. The basement looked no different to him than the last time he'd been down there, except there was no sign of Amelia.

He and Gemma walked around the basement, looking for any sign of the body. There was no blood, no broken and repaired concrete, nothing to show that anything sinister had happened there. The slop sink was sparkling clean.

"However he got rid of the gash, she's history," Tig observed, unplugging the laptop and winding the cord around it. He stuck the laptop under his arm to take it back upstairs.

"So I notice. You think he dissolved her down her the slop sink somehow?"

Tig shrugged. "Dunno and don't care. There's no evidence."

Gemma nodded. "I'm exhausted, Tig. I'm goin' to bed. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day."

Tig nodded and followed her up the stairs, digging in his pocket for the two – way.

Gemma noticed the small phone in his hand and smiled slyly. "I'm surprised you've waited this long!"

"C'mon, Gem! I wasn't bein' that obvious – was I?"

"Of course not! Tell her thanks for makin' the video. I'm sure you'll have plenty more than that to say to her."

Tig returned her remark with an innocent 'who, me?' expression that made her laugh out loud.

"What's so funny?" Tara inquired.

"Tig's gonna lay down the law to Cat," Gemma explained.

"Hasn't that poor woman gone through enough today?"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" Tig protested. "You two make me some like some kind of Neanderthal or somethin'!"

"Well, Tig," Tara grinned. "You know that saying about the shoe fitting!"

Tig threw up his hands in disgust. "Women!"

Gemma turned a concerned eye to the doctor. "You gonna be OK goin' to sleep with that knot on your head?"

"Yeah," Tara nodded. "No more nausea, no dizziness. I'll be fine, Gemma."

She stood up and followed Gemma down the hall to the bedroom the caregiver had occupied. Gemma went to her own room, leaving Tig standing in the living room, holding the two – way in his hand.

June was awakened from a light nap by the sound of the two – way. The tape player had played through both sides of the cassette and restarted in the time she'd been asleep. Ebony was curled up on her lap, right in the middle of her knitting.

"As big as you are, you'd never feel the needles pokin' y'all!" she murmured affectionately to the feline, who was purring contentedly.

She fumbled on the table next to her for the phone, glancing across the room at Cat, who was still sound asleep. She'd turned over onto, facing Alex's side of the room, her good arm flung across Alex's pillow. Misty was still curled up next to her, her head snuggled in Cat's open hand.

"Hey, Alex. It's June. Didn't want ya confusin' me for her and sayin' the wrong thing."

Alex's blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins. "Is she a'right? Where are ya?" His hand started caressing the bridge of his nose. He was reclining on the bed, both pillows supporting his shoulder. 'I knew she'd wind up in the hospital again! Why doesn't she listen to me and go easy?'

"Relax, Alex!" June replied reassuringly. "She's sleepin' right in front of me, on your bed. I slipped a 'mickey' in her drink."

Tig's shoulders slumped with relief, the movement made his injured shoulder twinge. He sucked air through his teeth.

"Honestly, Alex! She's just tired," June added, mistaking his reaction. "You saw the video, but you don't know the half of what she was up to all day."

"I'm relieved she's not back in the hospital, doll," Alex assured her. Unlike his use of the term with the caregiver, Alex meant the word as a form of endearment. "I'm in a bit of pain myself, Gemma's dad mistook me for an intruder and shot me in the shoulder. It's a clean wound, but it hurts like Hell."

"Cat ain't gonna be happy to hear about that, especially after y'all've been givin' her unholy Hell!" June laughed softly.

Cat heard her voice and stirred, moaned lightly, and turned over onto her other side, dislodging Misty from her hand. The little one eyed black cat stretched and curled up next to her person, covering her nose with her tail.

"You got that right!" Alex laughed. "You said she's on the bed, not in it?"

"I think her fatigue made the pill kick in a little quicker than anticipated. She fell asleep on the bed, fully clothed."

'That blows one fantasy all to Hell!' He winced. "What kind of mischief did my girl get into besides visitin' the kid that was shot at Sack's wake?"

"Oh, she told y'all about that?"

"She mentioned it on voice mail," he growled.

"She also met with the guy that operates the hospital's information channel and talked him into burnin' a disc from the internet so the patients and staff could see it. She also had a call from Clay earlier."

'Likely tellin' her about the Canada run,' Alex mused, rubbing his forehead at his wife's exploits. "That girl doesn't know the meanin' of 'take it easy', does she?"

"Seems that way," June agreed. "Why do y'all think I slipped her the 'mickey'?"

"What'd Clay want with her?"

"I didn't hear all of the conversation, just the part where your one fingered friend Chuckie shared some new information about the Caracara fire. I gathered all y'all are takin' a little trip to the Great White North."

'Shit!' Alex winced again. He knew Cat wouldn't be upset by the news, but he wished he'd been the one to tell her.

"She took the news quite well, Alex." June replied earnestly. "Wanna talk to her?"

"Do brown bears shit in the woods? Of course I wanna talk to her! Ya might wanna make yourself scarce, unless ya wanna get an education in obscene phone calls," he warned her.

"I accept that," June replied. "Give me a minute to get this 20 pounds of fur off my lap."

He grinned as he listened to June talk to Ebony. She tried to entice him off her lap and then she exhaled strongly as she pushed him away.

Jeeze, cat! You put my legs to sleep!" June groaned, massaging her thighs where Ebony had lain.

The cat flipped his tail in disdain and waddled out the door into the hallway. June stood gingerly, testing her legs to be sure they'd support her before taking a step.

"Still there?"

"Yeah. She awake yet?"

"Nope."

'She usually doesn't sleep through any kind of noise,' Alex worried. "You sure she's a'right?"

"You're worryin' too much, big fella. I gave her one of the more potent pain pills. Surprised she's slept as long as she has. That stomach surgery doesn't allow her to absorb anything like normal people."

Alex smiled grimly. "Sweetheart, you, of all people, know there's nothin' normal about our girl!"

"You can say that again!" June laughed.

"Huh? Who can say what again?" Cat murmured sleepily. "You talkin' to yourself?"

"No, chick. I'm talkin' to your better half," June replied, bringing the phone to Cat's side of the bed.

"I resemble that remark," Cat snorted, yawning and reaching for the two – way. "Hey, love!" she sighed.

"Hey, back! It's a shame you fell asleep in your clothes. I was picturin' ya in your birthday suit!" Alex replied softly.

"I'll just bet you were, you sex fiend!" Cat snickered sleepily.

"My cue to get outta here and give you two some privacy!" June laughed, stepping out of the bedroom. "I'll go check out the internet for a bit."

"You do that, cause when y'all get back, we's got some talkin' to do about doctorin' drinks!" Cat fumed good naturedly.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! You gonna talk to her or me?" Alex poured wounded male pride in his voice.

"Both of y'all for the moment. You're both on my shit list!"

"I gotta bad feelin' about this!" Alex replied.

"Y'all should! What the Hell is the big idea, goin' all caveman on me about drivin' my own frackin' car a teeny little bit and keepin' quiet about a damn bullet hole in your back!" Cat snarled, her annoyance momentarily overcoming the drowsiness.

"Shit! Who ratted me out? I know ya didn't hear my side of the conversation with June just now!" Alex winced again, picturing Cat's expression of righteous wrath.

"No, a little birdie told me earlier today when we talked about her father," Cat replied. "I didn't think Nate would've had a gun in the house. She says the wound's OK, and Tara came up there to treat y'all."

"Sorry," Alex replied in that off handed apologetic manner of his. "I was gonna tell ya eventually. It just -"

"- never came up in the conversation," she finished for him. "Yeah, I've heard that one before. Still doesn't excuse y'all readin' me the riot act for drivin' Black Beauty!"

"You, baby, aren't supposed to be drivin' at all!" Alex countered.

"Still don't excuse y'all for keepin' mum about bein' injured!" Cat fumed. "Thank God Nate wasn't aimin' any lower!"

"I've been shot in the ass before," Alex reminded her. "I've been bitten in the ass before, too. I'd rather have a sore ass than a wounded dick."

"True," Cat grinned. "One is preferable to the other."

"Honestly, baby. I'm sorry for not bein' the one to tell ya about it. It's really not bad, just a bit painful. The gun's outta the house, if that makes ya feel any better."

Cat sighed with relief. "Much better."

"I should be readin' ya the riot act about goin' to see the McCargo kid and talkin' to the hospital TV guy. I could understand why ya felt it necessary to visit the kid, but why the extra thing?" Alex admonished her.

"Another one of my attempts to get the town back on the club's side. Lange, the program director, is sworn to secrecy about my makin' the video available," she replied.

Alex frowned in consternation. "I don't get it, baby. How can you remainin' anonymous help get the club back in favor with the town?"

"Didn't all y'all watch the video?" she asked in surprise.

"We watched it," Alex growled.

"The club's tribute to Hale says more in the club's favor than anything I could try to present to the town," she replied interjected hastily.

"You might be right," he replied, the growl of displeasure still in his voice. "I'm not real happy about ya speakin' out on Darby's behalf, baby. I know why ya did it, but that doesn't mean I like it."

"Sorry, love. I just couldn't stand there and watch those stormtroopers bully Darby, even if he is deservin' of it!" she protested. "Besides, my speakin' out like that earned the club some valuable intel on the arson."

"That's what June said. What was it?"

Cat took a deep breath, wincing at the twinge from her ribs. "Chuckie identified Darby as the man he pulled from the studio while it was burnin'. Said Darby assisted Westin with settin' the fire. Clay was gonna have Chuckie talk to the adjuster tonight."

Alex grinned. "Baby, you're the only woman I know who can fall in a sewer and not come outta it smellin' like shit!"

"So I'm forgiven for doin' too much?" she whispered huskily.

Her voice sent tremors through him, making his blood heat. 'I don't need that at the moment! I'm not up to self abuse!' he glared at the heavy bulge in his jeans. "Baby, I can never stay mad at you. I wish ya were with me right now!"

His lechery made her own blood heat up. "Love, if wishes were wings, we'd both be flyin' at each other. That's the problem with phone sex, it leaves one quite unsatisfied, and self service ain't easy with one's arm in a sling!"

"It ain't real easy with a wounded shoulder, either," he replied. "I'm sorry ya heard from Clay about the trip. I intended to tell ya."

"It's OK, love. I know it's necessary. Just don't bring back any tucs or beer."

"I'll keep that in mind," he growled. "Not to sound like the Neanderthal ya think I am, but what the fuck is Chuckie doin' there tonight? Why didn't June take him back to the clubhouse?"

'I hate long distance differences of opinion!' She sighed tiredly. "I'm doin' a favor for Ope, and

Chuckie's helpin' with it tomorrow. Figured y'all wouldn't get too bent out of shape with June around to protect my virtue!"

"Baby, even if ya had an army of Amazons in the house to protect ya, I'd still be unhappy about another rooster under the roof with ya in my absence!"

His words warmed her heart and made her stomach flutter in the way only Alex could do. "Huh! You'd just be disappointed to miss out on all those extra women!" she laughed teasingly.

"You know me too well, woman. Any chance ya can put this favor off for a day?"

"Sorry, love. It's kinda urgent. It's not gonna take long, and I'm takin' the rest of the day to myself."

"Holy shit! The world must be comin' to an end!" Alex chuckled.

"Smart ass! If you're gonna be disrespectful, I can hang up on your ass!"

"But ya won't," he replied smugly, assured that she missed him as much as he missed her.

Cat yawned in answer. "Sorry, love. Guess the pill's still in my system."

"Maybe I should get off this thing and let ya sleep, but I don't wanna say good night yet," he admitted softly. "How'd the visit with the McCargo kid and his mom go?"

"I didn't get to see Reese, he was gettin' some tests done. Did talk to the mom. She was hostile at first, but when she found out about the Calavarez guy in the jail ward, she seemed less so."

"You think she's plannin' some legal shit against the club?"

"I'm sure at least one or two ambulance chasers talked to her after the drive – by," she observed grimly.

'Shit!' Another twinge made Alex hiss through his teeth.

"That's why I spoke with her, shared the information about the asshole in custody. If someone hurt my kid, I'd want to hold the right person – the one responsible – for that."

Alex nodded. That was how he felt about the girls. "You might be right, baby. Guess we'll have to wait and see. At least she didn't throw the gifts back at ya."

"Not only that, Clay got a call from her lawyer that she's not suin' the club," she announced proudly.

"Dammit, baby! I don't know whether to kill ya or kiss ya for that!" Alex snarled, reacting out of concern for her welfare. "I mean, it's good the bitch isn't suin' us, but ya really need to learn to pace yourself! That shit could've waited a day!

"Well! Excuse the fuck outta me for givin' a shit!" She retorted angrily. "I didn't expect all y'all to genuflect and kiss my ass! A simple 'thank you' would've been nice!" .

Alex rubbed the bridge of his nose again. 'If this keeps up, I'm not gonna have any skin left!' He sighed wearily. He didn't want to argue with his woman over the phone. It wasn't as much fun to make up. "Dammit to Hell, woman! Do I hafta remind ya that you're just a few days outta critical care?"

"No, my injuries do a damn good job of that," she replied wearily. She knew that beneath all the chest beating and roaring like a lion with a thorn in it's paw, Alex was upset for her, not at her. The knowledge didn't make his attitude any easier to tolerate, but she was determined to try. "I'm sorry to snap at y'all, love. Just seems like all y'all don't appreciate my efforts on your behalf today."

"Baby, ya know better than that," he countered softly. "We appreciate everything you do for us. From where I sit, it seems like nobody's lookin' out for ya like I asked, and that's got me bothered."

"They try, love, things have been bat shit crazy around here lately. It's gonna be a little less nerts now. I promise to take it easy tomorrow."

"Wish I could take that to the bank," he murmured. "You don't know the meanin' of that phrase!"

Both of them were aware that they'd gotten past the minor conflict that had suddenly risen between them. Cat decided to change the subject to safer waters, his injury.

"Alex, are y'all gonna be OK to make that trip on the bike?" she asked worriedly.

"I'll be fine, baby. It's a scratch. Don't worry."

"Comes with the ring, love. You worry 'bout me, I worry 'bout you."

'Yeah, but you're always there to take care of me. I've not done too well in that department!' he exclaimed ruefully. His comment was fueled by the chorus of Bon Jovi's 'I'll Be There for You' in the background.

"Don't you start that shit again, love! You were there for me when it really counted. I will not tolerate hearin' ya put yourself down!" she retorted fiercely.

Alex felt his soul lift from hearing her reaffirmation. "Thanks, baby. That was some song you and the kids did. That verse at the end was good stuff. Your dad would be proud of ya."

She smiled wryly. "Sometimes I wonder if he ever forgave me for turnin' my back on music as a career for broadcastin'."

"Of course he did. You're his little girl," Alex consoled her. "Your music trainin' came in handy. Bachman never complained about the music you chose." Alex refrained from telling her that he didn't say anything good about it, either.

"That's good," she yawned again. "Glad to be of help."

"You always help me, baby, even when ya make me nuts," he replied softly, stroking the phone like he wished he could touch her.

"Turn abouts fair play. You make me nerts sometimes," she whispered.

"Comes with the ring," he replied jokingly, though he wasn't joking in his heart.

"I accept that," she murmured.

"I'm keepin' ya up, baby. You should rest."

"So should you. That's gonna be a long ride."

To his surprise, she didn't turn off the phone on him. But she did go quiet, momentarily fighting the drowsiness caused by the medicine June had slipped into her drink.

Alex realized she was playing the tape of music she most associated with him. The further evidence of her love and commitment to him was nearly his undoing. His eyes clouded with a fine mist while he listened to the chorus of Blake Shelton's 'Home'. Without realizing he was speaking the thought aloud, he whispered huskily, "You can take that song to the bank, baby. I am comin' home to ya as soon as I can."

Cat's breathing was slow and even. Though she'd fallen asleep on him, he knew she'd heard his proomise. "Cat? Baby? Wake up for me!" he called.

"I'm awake!" she murmured, her words slightly slurred.

"I noticed. Guess it's time to say good night, baby," he replied. "You're hurtin' and tired. This can't be doin' ya any good."

"Yes it is!" She protested sleepily. "I live for these phone calls." She winced at making such an admission. "Oh, blast! You weren't supposed to hear that!" she moaned.

"Why?" he asked smugly. His heart raced in response to her sleepy admission.

"Because y'all are gonna be more Neanderthal than ever, havin' co – erced such a declaration from me!"

"Prolly. Get used to it, baby," his voice was gruff with emotion. "You're worn out, baby. You need to rest more than ya need to talk to me. I'll call ya tomorrow."

"I know y'all will. Miss ya, love. Since I'm awake enough, I'm gonna get outta these days clothes and into somethin' more comfortable."

"That's a nice thought to leave me with!" he leered. "I might not be able to get to sleep with that picture in my head!"

"Gives y'all somethin' to wanna come home to!" she retorted.

"Baby, I don't need a mental picture of ya nekkid to wanna come home to you," he admitted. His voice conveyed all the pent up want and need he felt for her. "Sleep well, baby," he added before shutting off the phone.

Cat turned off the two – way with a sleepy smile and set it on the charger. "It's safe, June!" she called out, slipping from the bed to undress and slip into her nightwear.

June shut down the computer and peeked into the bedroom, her gaze settling on the pile of clothes on the floor in front of the hamper. "It looks like y'all missed!"

"I wasn't even tryin' to aim!" Cat replied sleepily. "The next time y'all wanna slip a 'mickey' on me, don't make it so damn potent. I feel asleep on Alex!"

"I'm sure he didn't mind," June smiled, picking up the discarded clothes and tossing them in the hamper. "Do you want me to change the bandage on your eye?"

Cat shook her head, slipping the sling over her head and tossing it on the bedside table. "We can deal with that in the mornin'. I'm goin' back to sleep."

She slid under the covers and lay her head against the pillow, gazing wistfully at the framed picture of Alex. In moments, she was fast asleep again, a slight smile on her face.

Lyla and Ima had changed to their regular revealing attire after the funeral before returning to the clubhouse. Ima's car refused to start, so she rode in with Lyla.

Lyla didn't know that Ima had removed the battery connections on her car before she'd knocked at the door before the funeral. With Tara out of town, Ima hoped to get cozy with Jax. What better way to start than with getting a ride home from him? 'While the cat's away, this kitten is gonna play!'

The girls walked into the clubhouse, nodding coolly at the Croweaters and hang arounds. They smiled warmly at the riders. Ima stepped up to the bar to flirt with Chibs and Bobby while Lyla headed directly for Opie.

Opie and Jax had been sitting together at a table, drinking and talking about their women. Jax ruefully pointed out that he wanted his girl to stay in her job, while Ope wanted his out of the porn business.

Opie looked up at Lyla, his heart rate speeding up at the sight of her smile. Jax grinned knowingly at him. They stood and performed the 'bro hug double back thump'.

As Opie and Lyla made their way to the door, Ima advanced on Jax like a lioness stalking prey. She purred at him for a ride home, smiling seductively at him.

'What could it hurt? Tara's outta town, she'd never know,' Jax mused, smiling at the actress, erotic images playing in his mind.

His thoughts rapidly changed course when Juice hurried over, cradling his laptop in one hand. He'd received an email from SAMBEL, and knew when he opened it that the club needed to see it.

The riders gathered around Juice as he placed the laptop on the bar. The commotion alerted Opie that something was up. He turned from the door and headed back to the bar, Lyla following in his wake.

There on the computer screen was a picture of Cameron Hayes, lying dead and propped up against a brick wall. A bloody cross in a circle, the sign of the 'Real IRA' had been drawn on his forehead.

The picture had been taken in Short Strand, a part of Belfast. The riders looked at one another in dismay, sharing the same thought that Jax voiced.

'How the Hell did Cameron get to Ireland from Vancouver? More importantly, is Abel with him, or still up North?'