Brothers in Arms

by HollyPup

When your family are the boys of SAMCRO you know you'll always be protected, loved. But when all you want in life is to where that reaper cut, life seems incomplete when everyone tells you it will never happen. But Isabelle will never give up.

Note: OK, so for those of you who have read some of my other fics, it should come as no surprise to you that I have started YET ANOTHER one. This came to me out the blue, after I watched the first episode of Sons of Anarchy this past September, and then spent all day watching the other episodes. This one may get updated at least fairly regularly because I want to get it finished before Season Three starts up. Once again, those of you who have read some of my other fics, this one follows their structure. Its based around Seasons 1 & 2, but I have added my own character to mix things up a little. If its as exciting in my head as it it will be written down, this one should be pretty good.

I'm in a bit of a time crunch writing this note, but this chapter has been done for a few days and I really want to get it posted, so I took this opportunity while I was at school to do so. I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar errors. I was unable to do a final check today. Also, this may seem a little random, but it took me FOREVER to settle a name for this girl. I wanted a feminine name that I could shorten to something ambiguous. Let me know how it works, if you like it, or if you have a suggestion. Definitely not to late to change it.

Alright, well, as always please review after reading, its what I write for, and I hope you all enjoy this new adventure into the realm of my insanity! :)

PS: Thank you SO much to h sloanx16 for pointing out the fact that I still had different names for my girl in this version of the chapter. All the names have been changed to the proper one now :)

---

Chapter One: Another Day

The scenery of Northern California sped by at fifty miles per hour. The tan earth and the intermittent green shrubbery blurred together into one palette, the bright blue of the sky sitting atop it like a beautiful painting. Life was good for the person on the motorcycle that raced down the winding road. Wind whipped through their hair, and flapped around their pant legs. They were free to do whatever they wanted. They belonged to a family who would take care of them forever. On their backs, the reaper logo stood out clear and proud. This person belonged to SAMCRO, and that fact couldn't have delighted them more.

Suddenly, everything went completely wrong. The sky darkened in the blink of an eye. Storm clouds rolled in and a streak of lightning lit up the sky quickly followed by a clap of thunder. The motorcyclist stopped their bike in the middle of the road, eyes on the sky. From the clouds a male figure appeared, tall and menacing. He sneered down at the smaller person and reached a giant hand down towards them. He shook the person out of their leather vest with the reaper on the back, the very thing that made everything worth it.

"In your dreams, Isabelle," Clay Morrow, the figure in the sky, said scathingly and then he disappeared.

Down on the road, Isabelle opened her mouth to scream.

"Wake up!"

The shout, which had been directly in her ear, causing Isabelle to nearly jump clean off the bed. As it was, she still managed to tumble to the floor in a tangled mass of bedding. While she slowly blinked her eyes and got her bearings back, she was aware of some overly familiar laughter above her. She looked up, a heavy glare in her grey eyes. Reaching beside her, Isabelle picked up her fallen pillow and threw it hard at the culprit's head.

"Can it, Jax!" she yelled warningly, using the side of the bed to help her to her feet, "I ought to knock the shit out of your for that, asshole." Standing up straight she stretched her arms over her head and bent backwards till she heard a satisfying pop. Jax slowly complied with her request, his laughter dying down to some soft chuckles.

"Sorry," he said when he had control of himself again, a laughing smile still on his face, "I didn't meant to scare you, but you were out cold." Isabelle wanted to stay annoyed at him, but she was far too groggy to hold a grudge and all she wanted right now was a large cup of coffee.

"Its alright," she said with a sigh, walking around the bed and over to her dresser, "Its not your fault anyway." Rummaging in one of her drawers and found a pair of pants that at least smelled clean. She pulled them over the boxers she was wearing, glancing up as she did so. The smile was gone from Jax's face now, and she knew he had understood what she meant.

"You had the dream again?" he asked her. Isabelle nodded, securing her jeans with a belt.

"Third time this week," she told him, "Same exact thing. Clay rips the cut off my back and floats away laughing." She rubbed her hands over her eyes, trying to wipe the sleep out of them.

"I'm sure its nothing," Jax said assuredly, "Its just a nightmare. Besides, its not its coming true anytime soon." Now he was smirking again. Isabelle glowered at him venomously and gave him the finger. Laughing, he turned to leave the room. "Come on. We got the morning shift." With a fleeting glance in her mirror, Isabelle followed after him, grabbing her leather cut off the back of a chair as she did. Its back was plain, reaperless.

Her bedroom was part of a small dormitory that made up a large chunk of the SAMCRO clubhouse. There was a small number of rooms that several members and Isabelle used because they didn't have anywhere else to go. Her room was the closest to the bar, so she followed Jax behind the counter where they kept a coffee maker plugged into the wall. Jax grabbed the pot, already filled with dark brown liquid, and two mugs. He poured them both full cups and passed one to Isabelle. She accepted it gratefully and took a large sip. The warm drink felt heavenly.

"Morning, kids," a cheerful voice greeted them. Isabelle looked up and smiled at the person walking towards them.

"Morning, Bobby," she said.

"Pour me a cup, Jackie Boy," Bobby said as he took a seat on the opposite side of the counter from them. Jax went to go grab another mug and Bobby glanced at Isabelle. "You look like crap."

"Well, thank you, Bobby," Isabelle replied sarcastically, "You look radiant as always. Is that puke or semen in your hair?" Jax, who had been taking a drink of his own coffee while pouring a cup for Bobby, snorted into his mug, spraying coffee onto the counter. Bobby didn't laugh, but he smiled at Isabelle.

"My, my," he said brightly, "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"She's been having nightmares all week," Jax told him with a wide grin, "She keeps dreaming shes wearing a reaper on her back and that Clay appears in the clouds and takes it away."

"Jax!" Isabelle exclaimed, shocked and angry. She aimed a back-handed swing at his stomach and felt better when she saw him double over slightly. She muttered profanities under her breath as she took another sip of her coffee. Bobby was looking at her with a smirk on his face.

"So in your dream," he began slowly, "Clay is God and he takes your cut away?" Sighing, Isabelle knew she wasn't getting out of this conversation, so she just nodded. Bobby grew thoughtful a moment. "It probably doesn't mean anything, kiddo. Just that you know Clay doesn't want you to be a real part of SAMCRO and its manifesting itself in a nightmare." He seemed to think this was explanation enough and turned his attention to his coffee, grabbing a nearby newspaper. Isabelle looked at him, troubled, for a few moments and then just sighed and shook it off.

"Manifesting?" she said, a smirk now on her face, "Big word for this early in the morning." Bobby put the newspaper down a moment and peered at her blankly over his glasses. He just smiled at her a little and returned to his reading.

At that moment they all heard a loud crash coming from next door at the garage. With a deep sigh, Isabelle grabbed her mug and headed for the front door of the clubhouse. Jax and Bobby followed suit. Outside, Isabelle squinted her eyes against the sunlight, blinking for a moment so her eyes would adjust to the brightness. There was another crash of metal coming from the main work area of the mechanics garage that was connected to the clubhouse. Walking in that direction, the sound of someone muttering 'Shit' in a worried voice could be heard.

"What the hell did you break now, Prospect?" Isabelle shouted as the entered the garage.

Recently the club had picked up a Prospect, which was some young, impressionable guy in their twenties who the rest of the boys would pick on until the kid either quit or was allowed to become a member of SAMCRO. This year's model was a nervous little redhead, mid-twenties, by the name of Kip, though everyone called him Half-Sack due to an unfortunate military accident. Currently, Half-Sack was hurriedly trying to pick up a mess of oilcans that he had knocked over. Isabelle took one look at the mess and started laughing.

"Tigs going to kill you," she said through her mirth, "He stacked those last night. Chibs bet him twenty bucks he couldn't make a pyramid while he was hammered. Took him like half an hour." She began rummaging through her pockets with her free hand until she found a near-empty pack of cigarettes. She stuck in her mouth and then went fishing for her lighter. She lit her cigarette and blew smoke at Half-Sack while she stuck the lighter back in her pocket. "Clean it up. Now." Turning around, she left the poor kid to fret while she finished her coffee.

"You better swallow that attitude before Clay gets here," Jax said as they walked over to where all their work shirts hung. He sounded serious but Isabelle could see he was smiling. However, even with the coffee, she still wasn't feeling exactly chipper.

"Clay can kiss my ass," she told him plainly as she set her coffee mug down and grabbed her shirt off the hook.

"Is that a promise?" asked a voice behind her. Isabelle paused in the process of slipping the shirt on, eyes closed. She didn't even want to turn around, but after a moment she did. Clay stood there, already looking menacing in his leather vest and dark sunglasses, arms folded over his chest. There wasn't even a trace of a smile on his face.

"I guess pleading PMS would be a bad idea, hm?" she asked, knowing she was in deep shit. Even Jax was stealthily sneaking off to go to work, not wanting to be anywhere near the pair of them. Clay didn't even twitch a grin. Isabelle sighed. "I'm sorry, Clay. I didn't mean it. I had a...long night." It was a lame explanation, and she knew it wouldn't be good enough for their fearless leader.

"There's never an excuse to disrespect me, Isabelle," Clay said, taking off his sun glasses and staring at her sternly. Normally, Isbelle would have glared at the use of her full name, but it definitely was not a good idea at the moment. Clay continued. "Now, if you've got a problem with me, I'd love to hear it." This was what she had been afraid of. Lying to him, would be unwise, but explaining about her dream seemed just as bad. It didn't look like she had a choice.

"I've been having a nightmare alright," she blurted out, holding out her arms helplessly, "In it I'm speeding down some road with a reaper cut on my back, everything seems good, and then you appear like God in the sky and take the cut off my back, then you disappear, laughing, and I wake up screaming." She took a deep breath, having let that all out in one go. She felt embarrassed and stupid. "Happy now?" She grabbed her abandoned coffee and took a large drink to finish it off, then tossed her half-smoked cigarette into the cup after one last drag and set it back down. Clay still hadn't said anything.

"Get to work," he said simply, after a long silence and then walked past her into the main office.

Isabelle stood where she was a moment longer, in complete shock. Jax walked up to her, eyebrows raised. They stared at each other a moment, and Isabelle cautiously glanced behind her, but Clay was gone. She didn't know what to make of what had just happened. Shaking her head she shrugged at Jax and then the two of them headed back into the main garage to start work. Off to the side, Tig was shouting at Half-Sack about the oil mess.

"Why do I get the feeling that the day is just beginning?" Isabelle said wearily as she grabbed a wrench from the rack. Jax smiled.

--

Later that evening, Isabelle was sprawled out on a couch in the clubhouse. An MP3 player was grasped loosely in her hand hanging near the ground. Her eyes were closed. This was part of her daily ritual. She tried finding a couple minutes each day where she could relax her body and mind. The music in her ears drowned everything out, wrapped her in a cocoon of solace where it was impossible to think about anything. This was her therapy, the one thing that made her able to get her brain around everything going on.

"Oi! Izzy!" someone shouted, the voice barely audible above the noise in her ears. She was prepared to ignore it, but bounced their boot hard up and down on the cushion a few times, spooking her.

"Jesus!" Isabelle exclaimed angrily, sitting up and ripping the tiny earphones out, "What is with everyone scaring me awake today?" The distinctive laughter brought another glare out of her as she stared up at Chibs, their resident Scotsman.

"Sorry, Iz," he said through his chuckling, "I didn't meant to startle you, but I didn't know if you could hear me through that racket."

"Did you stop to think maybe that was the point?" she asked him irritably, standing up as she shoved her MP3 player in her pocket and ran a hand through her hair. "So what did you want?"

"Jackie-boy just called," Chibs told her, "Said he was on his way to pick you up. Thought I'd let you know in case you forgot. I really am sorry I scared you." The sincerity in his voice made Isabelle sigh. She hated it when the guys got soft on her. It made it hard for her to stay mad. Besides, she had forgotten about Jax coming to pick her up. She nodded at him and began walking to her room to grab a sweatshirt. Chibs called after her.

"You really been having nightmares?" She stopped, hand on the wall, and sighed again.

"Yeah," she said, "Yeah, I have."

--

Riding down the road with Jax, Isabelle couldn't help feeling better than she had all day. When she rode double with him, she could almost picture herself on her own bike, see the reaper on her back. It was her favorite part of the day. Even if they were just going to grab some food. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist as they sped down the street, passing the houses and businesses that made up their lovable town of Charming. Jax slowed down as they approached the small liquor store and pulled into the parking lot.

"I need to get a few things," he told Isabelle as he got off the bike and removed his helmet.

Isabelle nodded and followed him into the store, taking off her own helmet and holding it under her arm. She studied the chips selection while Jax absently picked up a childrens book from one of the racks and thumbed through a few pages before putting it back. Behind the counter, Louise, the night shift cashier, was discreetly trying to tug her shirt down a little more to expose her cleavage. Isabelle, seeing this out of the corner of her eye, smiled and tried not to laugh. Jax grabbed what he needed and headed to the counter, tossing the box of condoms down for Louise to scan.

"How you doing, Louise?" Jax said cheerily, flashing that charming grin of his.

"You know," she told him, a seductive smile on her face, "You can buy these by the case and it'd be a lot cheaper."

"Well, one box at a time keeps me humble," Jax replied.

Isabelle, who had been listening with much amusement, snorted from where she still stood next to the chips. Jax glanced at her and then told Louise to grab a couple packs of cigarettes while he wandered over to another rack. Isabelle walked up to the counter and dropped a bag of Doritos into the mix. Louise was busy stuffing a copy of the book Jax had been looking at earlier into his bag. She looked up and saw Isabelle, clearly embarrassed, but Isabelle nodded slightly at her and smiled. Jax returned with a pair of lighters, and looked down at the plastic bag, seeing the book nestled inside. He looked up at Louise, grinning again.

"It was my favorite," she told him, the tone in her voice making Isabelle want to roll her eyes. There was a moment of silence, during which she seriously wondered if they were going to jump each other over the counter. But then Louise glanced towards the the Exit door leading out of the store. "What the hell is that?"

This time the tone in her voice made Isabelle and Jax both quickly look in the same direction, looks of worry on their faces. Outside the town was dark and calm, but then they saw the massive fireball raise up over the hills on the horizon, the bright orange lighting up the sky. It took them both a moment to realize what was out that way. Jax cursed and ran outside, Isabelle in close pursuit, their purchases forgotten behind them. She got back on the bike behind him and barely had enough time to fasten her helmet on before he sped off.

--

It was the next morning, and Isabelle was behind Jax again, peeking around his shoulder at the road blurring past them. The feeling of happiness she normally felt when riding was gone, her mind on the events of last night. Isabelle could still feel the pit in her stomach when they had realized it was their warehouse that had gone up in flames. She had Jax had hurried back to the clubhouse to tell the other guys about what had happened. It was decided they would wait till morning to ride down there, and they had all tried to get some sleep. Not likely.

As they pulled up to the site of the warehouse, the whole group took in the damage that they saw. An entire fire crew rummaged around in the debris, putting out the last few hot spots. Scraps of wood and bullet casings were scattered everywhere. When Jax stopped his bike, Isabelle climbed off set her helmet on the back of the seat. She walked with the group of guys as they ventured into the mess. Officer Trammel, one of their many "friends" in the business, was there to greet them.

"What the hell happened?" Clay asked Trammel. The cop held up his arms in a shrug.

"Propane tanks caught fire," he replied, "Ammo was in there, the place just blew." Clay cursed, and it was clear they all felt like doing the same. Trammel continued. "Fire chief said it was arsonists. Found boot prints."

"Cowboy boots?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Trammel said.

"Shit-eating Mayans, man," Tig side right beside Isabelle.

"Where the hell was Rodrigo?" Jax wondered aloud, sounding pissed. Isabelle didn't blame him.

"No sign of your watchman," informed Trammel. There was a small lull in the conversation, then Clay asked the important question.

"What's the exposure?" he inquired, continuing to glance around the destroyed warehouse.

"Officially?" Trammel said, "Me and the fire department. The fire captain can be convinced to rethink his report."

"And unofficially?" Jax asked, stepping forward.

"Unofficially, this blast was seen in two counties. This location is dead." This was exactly what they didn't want to hear, but then it got worse.

"The M-4s?" Clay asked.

"Gone," Trammel said, "As are most of the Glocks."

Now Clay looked livid. He turned, a snarl on his face, and kicked at one of the still intact panes of glass, shattering it. He kicked at a few pieces of wood. Jax slipped Trammel some money to keep the fire crew from running their mouths about anything, and then said they should get out of there. Isabelle was more than ready to go home. All of this was making her need a stiff drink. But Trammel had other plans, told them they needed to see something else. She could have groaned as she followed with everyone over to the hatch they had built into the floor of the warehouse for quickly hiding stuff was more or less undamaged. Trammel lifted the hatch door.

"God damn," Clay said softly, "Fried and re-fried." Isabelle felt a little sick as she stared down at the two dead women, their skin red and burned.

"They're illegals," Tig said casually, "Part of our assembly crew." This earned a knowing glance from Isabelle, and she could see that Tig was determinedly not looking in her direction. She would talk to him later about what they both knew. Right now she just wanted to go home and puke.

Clay made the order to get rid of the bodies. Trammel asked what he was supposed to do about the order of guns he was supposed to deliver to Laroy, the leader of the One Niners, Oakland's most notorious gang. Clay told Tig to call the gangster hotline and set up a meeting with Laroy. Jax passed some more cash to the cop, and finally they headed back to their bikes. Isabelle was having trouble getting the image of those dead girls out of her head. She mentally shook herself. This was just another day in the life. Meanwhile, Clay had removed his gun from his belt, holding it behind him to Jax.

"Two in the back of the head," he said, pointing as his own skull, "Quick and painless." Jax looked sympathetic.

"It ain't easy being king," he said to Clay.

"Yeah," Clay said, putting his gun away, "You remember that."

They got back on their bikes, Isabelle holding tight to Jax, and the two of them headed back to the clubhouse. Clay, Bobby, and Tig were on their way to Oakland.

Arriving back at the garage, Jax backed his bike into the designate line near the back. Isabelle got off, still feeling a tad queasy, but it was quickly going away. You didn't stay nauseous long in this line of business. She and Jax made their way over to where Chibs and Half-Sack were unloading a car they had just towed to the shop. A deer was half-in half-out, its rear end sticking up through the windshield. Isabelle couldn't held but chuckle.

"Holy shit," she said when they got close enough to the car that she could smell the deer. Her stomach wanted to do another somersault, but she kept it together.

"Somedays your the beamer," Jax was saying, "Somedays your the goddamn deer."

"I'll be inside," Isabelle told him as she started heading for the clubhouse. Jax frowned.

"Its not your day off," he said.

"I'm just taking a break," she explained, "Cut me some slack. I didn't sleep well last night." She held his gaze a moment until she saw him nod his head slightly and then she continued on her way. Clay would have killed her if he had been there, but he wasn't. Right now she needed something to clear her head. Jax could handle catching Chibs up without her, anyway.

Inside the clubhouse, Isabelle made her way behind the counter of the bar. She found a bottle of whiskey and grabbed a clean shot glass. She downed the first two like a pro, then poured a third, put the bottle away, and walked back around to the front sipping at her drink. Her eyes wandered around the club, lingering on the far wall, where a collage of framed mug-shots decorated the space. It was a reminder to be more cautious than they had been in the past. Everyone's face was up there, including hers. She stared at her picture a moment, off in its own little corner, easy to overlook, thinking about how symbolic it was. She finished her whiskey with a sigh, and returned to work.

--

"Looks like Mommy and Daddy are back."

Isabelle glanced up at the sound of Chibs's voice and looked in the direction of the front gate. Sure enough, Clay and Tig had returned, Bobby trailing behind them. She removed the welding mask she'd been wearing and set aside her torch. It had been a slow day at the shop, so she'd started working on her own side project. She removed her work gloves and yanked the hair tie out of her hair. She had learned the hard way to wear her shoulder-length hair in a ponytail while working.

"Clay looks pissed," she said matter-of-factly.

"Aye," Chibs agreed, starting to walk in the direction of the clubhouse, "Lets go see what the damage is."

With a deep breath, Isabelle followed after him. Her head was filled with plenty of concerns about this morning, and about what Laroy said during the meeting with Clay and Tig. However, upon entering the clubhouse all of that was replaced with feelings of disgust and horror. Half-Sack was standing near the back wall with his pants down, showing one of their other garage employees how he got his name.

"Holy shit!" Isabelle exclaimed as she put an arm to shield her eyes from the image.

"Jesus Christ," Clay said, "Put that deformed nutbag away." Half-Sack stammered out an apology and then Tig told him to disappear. Isabelle knew what that meant. She threw herself down onto one of the couches with a sigh while Chibs went to go get Jax.

"Jax," she heard him say down the hallway where the rooms were, "We're at the table."

From her spot on the couch, Isabelle watched as the rest of the guys filed into the conference room, which they all referred to as the "chapel". Jax appeared from the hallway a few moments later, gave her a small smile and a nod before joining everyone else and shutting the doors behind them. She leaned against the back of the couch, hands behind her head, and waited. This was her life. Waiting for the guys to make their decisions and then come out and let her know what part she was supposed to play. It was an unfair arrangement, it always had been. But she took what she could get.

About fifteen minutes later they all came back out. Isabelle sat up, looking expectantly at each of them. Clay and Bobby went straight to the bar, where Half-Sack was ready to serve them, and the rest of the guys dispersed throughout the space. It was Jax who walked up to her, as it always was. He started to explain about their plan to get their guns back from the Mayans, but before he could get too far into it Juice said something to Clay. They all turned their heads to look at the surveillance monitors up near the ceiling. Gemma's Cadillac was pulling into the garage.

"Shit," said Clay as they all listened to the intense honking coming from the car. As a group they all walked toward the front door of the clubhouse and out into the driveway of the garage. Gemma had parked and was getting out of her car. The look on her face filled Isabelle with dread.

"It tried calling you," she said to Jax who was in front of the pack.

"What happened?" he asked his mother.

"I found the junkie bitch passed out on the kitchen floor," Gemma told him, and Isabelle knew she was talking about Jax's ex-wife, Wendy, "She was bleeding." Isabelle's stomach dropped to her feet.

"Holy shit," Jax said, and without another word he ran for his bike. Isabelle was hot on his heels, jumping on behind him. Chibs, Bobby and Clay were right behind them on their own Harleys and Gemma got back into her car.

St. Thomas was the local hospital. It was fairly large and decently well-equipped, much of which was made possible by donations. Isabelle walked at Jax's right as the group of them walked quickly down the halls to where the nurse had told them Wendy was. They were just coming up on the transparent room she was in when Tara, a nurse and an old friend, came out to meet them. Isabelle glanced in at Wendy, unable to ignore a burning hatred building up in her chest for the woman, and then looked back at Tara.

"What happened?" Jax asked her.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Tara inquired.

"A few weeks ago."

"She had track marks in her fingers and toes." Isabelle closed her eyes slowly, preparing herself for what was next.

"Jesus," Jax said, glancing in at Wendy, genuine concern in his eyes, "The baby?"

"We had to do an emergency C-section," Tara told him, that sad look in her eyes not helping the feeling of dread permeating the group, "He's ten weeks premature."

"Shit," Isabelle said for all of them.

"He's got a congenital heart defect," Tara continued, "And gastroschisis, a, um, tear in his abdomen. The gastro and the early birth are due to the drugs, but the CHD is probably..."

"The family flaw," Gemma cut in. Tara nodded.

"Yes, its genetic. On their own either one would be serious but not life-threatening. The doctor wants to repair his stomach first, and if he's stable he'll try and go in to fix his heart. Even so, the doctor give him about a twenty percent chance of survival, and I'm afraid that's being optimistic."

All of them were silent a moment, letting that sink in. Isabelle wanted to punch something, and hard. Tara told Jax she could take him to see his son, Abel, and Jax did follow her. He exchanged a few words that Isabelle couldn't hear, and then Jax turned around, the look on his face one she recognized. He stomped past her while Tara called after him. Knowing the mission was revenge, Isabelle turned and jogged after him, vaguely aware of Clay telling Bobby and Chibs to follow them. Probably a good idea. She knew where they were going.

The Hairy Dog was a bar that was frequented by the Nords, or Nordics, a white supremacist gang that based their beliefs around Nazi bullshit. They were also meth producers who had been desperately trying to deal their stuff in Charming for years, always being thwarted by the Sons of Anarchy. Jax came to a stop in front of the bar, getting off almost before he shut the thing off. Bobby and Chibs weren't far behind and together the two of them and Isabelle quickly followed Jax into the building. They were immediately met with hostile looks from the patrons, but no one openly objected to their presence. That was, until Jax grabbed a pool stick from one of guys playing a game and began beating the crap out of the guy Isabelle recognized as being one of their main dealers.

"You sold drugs to my pregnant ex-wife!" Jax yelled at him, lifting the pool stick and bringing down hard in the man's groin. Isabelle winced, but she felt as vindicated as Jax did. Chibs stepped forward and grabbed him.

"Alright, I think you made your point!" he told Jax, dragging Jax backwards and towards the door. Jax shook him off and headed out of the bar. Isabelle slowly backed away in that direction, keeping her gun up until she was outside, then she tucked it back under her shirt. Jax was already on his bike.

"I'm going to go find Opie," he told the three of them. Isabelle quickly reached out and grabbed her helmet off the back of his bike before he sped away down the street. She watched him go, her brow furrowed with worry. This day was only going to get worse.

"Guess I'm riding with you," she said to Chibs, climbing on behind him and buckling her helmet.

--

Back at the garage, Isabelle felt more exhausted than she remembered being just an hour ago. Thoughts of little baby Abel in the hospital, being operated on when he had just been born plagued her mind as she dragged herself into the clubhouse. Clay, Tig, and Piney were at the bar, beers or shots of something stronger nearby. Chibs and Bobby went to join them while Isabelle leaned against the wall arms folded.

"How'd it go?" Clay asked, looking at Isabelle, even though Chibs and Bobby had been there as well. She shrugged.

"I think he got the message across," she replied. Clay nodded

"Where is he?" he inquired absently.

"He went to go find Opie, which means we're blowing something up. Why isn't Bobby doing it?" She still had not been caught up on what had been discussed during the meeting, and felt a little in the dark.

"Bobby's got Tahoe this weekend," Tig told her. Isabelle nodded. She'd forgotten about Bobby's Elvis gig this weekend.

"Where's Juice?" she asked.

"Hes in the office," Clay said, "Gathering intel on the Mayan warehouse we're blowing up."

"I'll go give him a hand," Isabelle said, "More eyes will make things go faster." She started walking past the bar towards the 'office' where Juice had all of his computer equipment set up. Behind her, she heard someone get up from the bar.

"Izzy," Clay called after her. Isabelle sighed and turned around, knowing what this was about.

"Clay," she said wearily, "Not right now." He looked at her sternly.

"We need to talk," he said to her.

"I know," she agreed, "But not right now. Not today." And with that she turned and entered the office, closing the door behind her. Juice's face was already glued to his laptop screen. Isabelle pulled up a chair opposite him and dragged the second computer towards her.

Hours later Isabelle leaned away from the laptop, rubbing her thumb and forefinger over her forehead and eyes. She knew better than to stare at a computer screen for that long. It always gave her a headache. But she supposed that it had given her a way to escape her thoughts for a while. She glanced at the seat across from her and realized that Juice must have left sometime ago to go get a drink. She could hear voices from out in the bar, and so she pushed herself up from the table, stretched, and walked out of the room.

"And the creature comes out of her hole," Bobby greeted her as she stepped into the bar.

"Bite me," she said jadedly, as she sat down on one of the stools, nodding to Half-Sack who was behind the counter, "Beer." With lightning speed the Prospect reached into one of the coolers and grabbed her a beer, opening it and sliding it towards her. Isabelle grabbed her and took a long drink. It felt good.

"See?" Bobby said to her, concentrating on rolling a joint, "You shouldn't have stayed in that room so long. You got dehydrated." Isabelle regarded him thoughtfully.

"Manifesting? Dehydrated?" she said, raising an eyebrow, "Have you been sneaking reads from the dictionary or something?" From various spots around the room, Tig, Juice, and Chibs burst into laughter. Bobby glared at all of them.

"Ha-ha," he said, clearly unamused. Isabelle smiled a little and took another swig of her beer.

The door of the clubhouse opened as the laughter died down. Isabelle glanced in that direction. When she saw the person who was walking next to Jax, a large grin spread across her face. It was the first time that day that she felt genuinely glad.

"Opie!" she shouted happily as she got up from the bar and walked over to the taller man. He smiled when he saw her and gave her a friendly hug when she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Where the hell have you been, man?" Opie shrugged.

"Oh, you know," he said, "Just trying to get used to life on the outside again. Have I missed anything interesting?"

"Well, Bobby's finally learning big people words," she told him, smiling humorously, "And Chibs managed to find a Prospect with one testicle." Opie's eyes widened.

"One ball?" he asked disbelievingly. Isabelle nodded and then turned around.

"Half-Sack!" she called. Half-Sack fumbled with the glass he'd been carrying, almost dropping it, and then turned to face her. She motioned with the beer in her hand. "Drop your pants." The young man stared at her, stunned. He stuttered, glancing around at the guys uneasily.

"The woman gave you an order, Prospect," Chibs called from the pool table, "I suggest you listen to her." Isabelle rolled her eyes, not wanting to bother chastising the Scotsman for calling her a woman, and looked back at Half-Sack.

"I'm not going to molest you or chop your other nut off," she told him sincerely, "Just drop your pants." After another nervous glance at Chibs, Half-Sack complied to the request. He unbuckled his pants and lowered them enough to expose his solitary testicle.

"Holy shit!" Opie exclaimed loudly. Once again, all the guys, including Isabelle, began roaring with laughter. Half-Sack took this as his cue to pull his pants back up, for which Isabelle was very glad. It was funny as hell, but it was grossly disturbing at the same time.

As everyone got back to a normal state, Isabelle sat back down at the bar to finish her beer, Opie and Jax joining her. It really was good to see Opie again. She had known him since they were both little kids, had gone to school together. He was her best friend next to Jax, who was an entirely different case. Jax was her soulmate, Opie was her friend, but both were like brothers to her and she loved both of them dearly. Since Opie had gotten out of prison he hadn't been around the clubhouse much, which Isabelle knew was due to his wife not wanting him to be a part of SAMCRO anymore. Which made her wonder how he had managed to make it here today.

"Church meeting!" barked a voice they all recognized as Clay, who was just entering the clubhouse, "Now!"

A heavy sigh escaped Isabelle's lips as she watched all the guys leave whatever they had been doing and enter the conference room. This was the second time today. She was beginning to worry that things around Charming and with SAMCRO were taking a serious turn for the worse. With the warehouse blowing up, their beef with the Mayans had escalated to a point that she didn't like. The inevitable retaliation would be brutal, and she would be right in the middle of it like she always was. And, of course, it was impossible for her not to think about Abel as she left the bar and collapsed onto her favorite couch.

While the boys discussed what they would doing tomorrow night and how they would be doing it, Isabelle reflected on how she had wound up in this position, as she so often did. She was quite a unique case, though she hated admitting it. She'd been a part of all this shit as long as Jax had, was as deep as any of them, and yet she remained left out of things like 'church' meetings and the reaper cut. According to Clay it would always be this way, but she couldn't think that, refused to entertain the idea that she would never get that chance. She would die thinking that one day she would be SAMCRO.

"Hey, Little Iz," she heard someone say, and looked up to see all the guys filing out of the conferense room. The man who had spoken to her was Happy, a member of the Tacoma charter. He had been down visiting his mother. Isabelle smiled at him.

"Hey, Happy," she said, not having gotten a proper chance to greet him when he had arrived with Clay, "Hows your mom?" She stood up taking a swig of her forgotten beer and grimacing because it had gotten a little warm.

"Shes good," Happy told her as she followed him over to the bar, "Keeps telling me how proud she is of me. If only she knew right?" He smiled a little and Isabelle chuckled.

"Yeah, ain't that the truth," she replied, and then turned to Half-Sack who was behind the counter, "Hey, Prospect! I need another beer." He was quick to respond and in seconds she had a fresh beer in front of her.

She stood there with Happy, drinking her beer while the rest of the guys started playing pool. She knew within a few hours there would be a full on bash going on outside the clubhouse. Booze, women, dope, barbecue, all of the usual stuff. She smiled at the thought. How she loved this life.

"The smell is coming from that box," said Clay from across the room. Isabelle glanced over in that direction in time to see Bobby pull a large box from under the pool table, and for the first time she wrinkled her nose, aware of the horrible smell that permeated the room. She watched as Bobby opened it, and then pulled out a deer's head. As she stared wide-eyed at it, Half-Sack ran out from behind the bar.

"Thats mine!" he said quickly, grabbing the antlers from Bobby, "I, uh, thought we could you know mount it and hang it on the wall over there."

"Its got to be stuffed and treated first you idiot!" Jax told him.

"I know," Half-Sack replied, looking embarrassed again, "Stuffed with what?" There was no helping it at that point, Isabelle burst into laughter, nearly choking on her beer. The rest of the guys did the same, some of them shaking their heads at the poor kid, as though they couldn't believe he was really that much of a retard.

"Oh, you bagged yourself a winner, Chibs," Isabelle said through her laughter, taking a swig of her beer. Chib's was Half-Sack's sponsor, which meant that he was responsible for the prospect's actions, and the one mainly in charge of teaching him how things worked in the club. Chibs looked over at Isabelle, and she could feel the glare from behind those dark sunglasses he wore.

"I'd like to you see you try and sponsor some brainless little kid," he told her, sounded annoyed, "Oh, thats right, you can't."

A heavy silence followed his statement. Isabelle stared hard at him from her spot by the bar, her face slowly crumpling into a frown. Part of her knew that Chibs probably already regretted saying that, and felt badly about it. They all knew that reminding her about the fact that she would never be up to their status was a bad idea. But the fact was that he had said it, and given the day she had had it didn't matter how much he regretted saying it. In one fluid motion she grabbed a shot glass that Half-Sack had just set on the counter, preparing to fill it with bourbon, and hurled it as hard as she could at Chibs's head. He dodged it easily and it shattered against the wall.

"Hey!" shouted Clay, "Cut it out before I shoot both of you!" Isabelle wasn't paying attention to him. She was glowering at Chibs as she stepped away from the bar and stomped out the front door of the clubhouse, leaving everyone to stare awkwardly after her. Right then she wanted to be anywhere but there. She needed a cigarette.

Outside the cold night air engulfed her and Isabelle felt immediately better. There were a few cement picnic tables near the boxing ring that was set up in the back. She headed for one of them and sat down on the top of it, fishing around in her pockets for a mostly empty pack of smokes and her lighter. She found a single cigarette, but the lighter was proving to a be a problem. She was about to give up when she heard a flick! behind her. Turning her head she saw Clay standing there, holding out his lighter. Isabelle stared at him a moment, and then guided the tip of her cigarette into the flame.

"Thanks," she said, blowing smoke out into the air. He nodded and took a seat next to her. When he didn't say anything right away, Isabelle began to worry. She shrugged her shoulder and glanced at him. "Sorry about the shot glass. I'll pay for it."

"You really think I'm out here because of some broken glass?" Clay asked her rhetorically. She didn't look at him, taking another drag from her cigarette. She listened to him sigh heavily beside her, and she felt bad. "Isabelle, listen-"

"Clay," Isabelle quickly, cutting him off and turning to face him, "I said not today. Please." She was literally begging him, and part of her felt ashamed but she so desperately did not want to discuss her nightmare.

"I know what you said," Clay said to her, and she flinched when he sounded angry, "I don't give a shit what you want to do. I can't have you wigging out on the guys every time they make some dumb ass comment about this shit." Isabelle would have let him continue, should have let him continue. He was the boss and he got his way or else there were consequences. But then again, she wasn't patched yet.

"Fine, you want to talk about," she said irritably, taking a final furious drag from her cigarette and then stabbing it out roughly on the table, "Lets talk about it, then. These dreams I've been having are messing with my head a little, and I get that. I'll handle it my own way on my own time. What I do not need is you repeating yourself like you have been for the past fifteen years!" She was on her feet now, waving her hands around and staring wildly at Clay.

"Well, obviously you need a reminder," Clay tried saying.

"No, I don't!" Isabelle screamed at him, unable to hold back her fury now that she had let it flow, "You've been telling me it'll never happen, that I'll never get to wear a reaper on my back since I was seventeen. I get it, I hear you. I'm not stupid! But what I can't do is accept it, and thats something you're going to have to live with!" She finished her tirade, sucking in deep breaths of the cool night air, trying to let her anger ebb away before opening her mouth again. Clay was staring at her, looking a little stunned. Isabelle didn't know what else to say, so she just stood there, running her shaky hands through her hair. She hated this shit.

"I'm sorry," Clay finally said, standing up and walking over to her, "I know how badly you want this, but you know it can never happen. You need to accept that." He was staring at her with a look was both firm but soft at the same time. One Isabelle knew well. It was the look a father would give his kid when he knows how badly they want something but he just can't give it to them. She sighed.

"I can't, Clay," she told him calmly, "I just can't." There was a long silence, but then she saw him nod his head ever so slightly, and she knew that the argument was over. For now anyway. She smiled a little at him, and then glanced towards the front of the lot. She smiled a little more. "First round of sweetbutts are here." Clay looked behind him and grinned.

"Guess I should go tell the boys," he said, and he left, resting a hand on her shoulder momentarily as he walked by. Isabelle was left standing there, watching the scantily clad women trot towards the clubhouse in their high heels and miniskirts. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Just another day in the life.

The rest of the night was spent like any other good night at Teller-Morrow. Booze, weed, and women flowed freely, with plenty to go around for everyone. As everyone grew more and more intoxicated, the boxing ring in the back started to become occupied with men looking to get some aggression out and show just how macho they were. At some point, Tig and Happy duked it out for a few minutes. It was a typical night, with the typical crowd and the typical activities.

And yet Isabelle was not feeling as festive as she usually did. She sat alone on some metal railing, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Jax and the others were over by the boxing ring, watching Tig and Happy knock the crap out of each other. Normally she would have enjoyed the opportunity to see Tig get his face beaten in, but tonight she didn't have the energy. She was thinking about the day's events, particularly her conversation with Clay, and she hated herself for it. She knew that if she didn't get control of herself, and soon, his words would become reality and her dream would die.

"Hey, Izzy," said a nervous voice to her right. Isabelle glanced over, mostly prepared to smack some sense into whoever had deemed it appropriate to use her full name, but when she caught sight of the face the voice belonged to she broke into a smile.

"Hey, Lowell," she said merrily, "Clay finally letting you stick around for these things." Lowell, who was a mechanic at the garage, twitched a jittery smile at her and nodded.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, taking a seat next to her on the railing, "He said he thought I deserved the chance to be like the other guys so...here I am."

He sounded awkward and out of place, and Isabelle felt bad for him. She watched him chew habitually on his thumb nail and thought about the struggle she had watched him go through since they were teenagers. He glanced sideways at her and caught her staring at him. He lowered his hand and took a deep breath of night air.

"You looked like you could use some company," Lowell told her, and his sincerity made Isabelle want to hug him fiercely, "I figured I wasn't doing anyone any good wandering around like a lost kid or something." He stared down at the ground as though embarrassed by his statement. Isabelle took a drag of her cigarette.

"Speaking of kids," she said, blowing smoke out into the air, "Hows Moby?" She knew the mention of his son always brought Lowell's spirits up, and sure enough a large grin spread across his face when she said his name.

"He's doing really good," Lowell replied, nodding his head emphatically, "He likes school, likes playing with the other kids. He loves drawing. I, uh, was kind of thinking maybe you could show him some things. I mean, I've never seen anyone draw like you can."

"Sure," Isabelle told him, nodding her head, "I'd love to. Bring him by the clubhouse sometime." She brought her cigarette up to take another drag of her cigarette, glanced fleetingly at Lowell, and then discreetly stubbed it out beside her.

They sat in silence for a moment, watching everyone mill about, having a good time. Isabelle observed that even Half-Sack was sucking face with some girl off in the corner, and she hoped for his sake that none of the guys caught sight of it. She remembered going through a prospect-like phase ten years ago, where the guys had finally accepted her presence and decided that they could at least have some fun "initiating" her. It had been a grueling year and a half, and she had spent most of that without one of her eyebrows, but she came out of it alive. After that, though, it was hard not to have a soft spot for any of the other real prospects that came through.

"So, uh, why aren't you with the guys?" Lowell asked her nervously, not wanting to make her mad. Isabelle took a deep breath and drank some of her beer, staring straight ahead for a moment.

"Its been a weird day, Lowell," she said to him, "My mind has been filled with so much shit lately it feels like I'm drowning." She looked at him. "Know what I mean?" Lowell lowered his hand and looked at her, looking sympathetic.

"Yeah, I guess I do," he said. There was another smaller silence, and then he added, "I heard you yesterday at the garage when you told Clay about your dream. I'm sorry." Isabelle sighed.

Lowell always had the ability to soften her and make her feel like a regular person instead of the strong, badass girl she always felt she had to be. She had grown up with him, and when his dad split right around the same time her aunt died, she found herself bonding with him on a little brother level. He was always so timid and sweet, so unlike the other guys. It was refreshing sometimes. She sighed again.

"I had a talk with Clay about it tonight," she said stoically, "He was mad because I threw something at Chibs for making some comment about how I'll never be able to sponsor a prospect because I'll never be patched. It was the same argument I've had with him a million times, but after all the crap thats gone down over the last few days I just couldn't take it. I got mad at him and told him that I'll never be able to accept the idea that I'll never be a true member of SAMCRO. He got the message, but I'm sure it won't be the last time." After her little rant, Isabelle took a deep breath, closing her eyes and enjoying the sense of relief she got from telling that to somebody. She was surprised but pleased when she felt Lowell put his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him. He smiled a little at her and took his hand away.

"Don't worry," he said, "You'll get patched someday. I know you will. You can do anything remember?" He smiled a little more confidently at her, and it was infectious. Isabelle felt her face open up in her own grin. She would never tire of his personality. She pushed herself off the rail, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Lowell," she told him, walking away, "I appreciate that. Keep out of trouble, okay?" Still smiling, and with a hand on the cheek she had kissed, Lowell nodded, looking embarrassed but pleased.

The inside of the clubhouse seemed just as crowded as the outside. There were bikers and women everywhere, forgotten bottles of booze littering the tables. Isabelle glanced at the festivities, contemplating drowning all of her troubles in a bottle of Jack Daniels and joining the rest of them. But that wouldn't be tonight. With a resolute sigh she headed for the same office she had been in earlier. She opened to door and saw Juice already hard at work in front of his computer. He didn't even look up until she shut the door behind her.

"Hey, Iz," he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes with one hand, "Hows the party?" This time he sounded wistful. Isabelle shrugged.

"Same usual crap," she told him plainly, "Beer, bikes, and pussy." She took a final drink of her beer and set it down on a table beside her. She looked back at Juice and nodded her head towards the door. "Listen, go ahead and join the rest of the guys. I'll take over in here."

"You serious?" Juice asked her disbelievingly.

"Yeah," Isabelle replied with a nod, "Its starting to wind down anyway. I imagine everyone will be passed out in a few hours, so you might as well go get laid while you still can." Juice grinned at that, and stood up. He stretched his arms and then headed for the door.

"Thanks, Izzy," he said as he walked past her and out into the bar. She smiled as he left, and then sat down at the table and resumed the work she had began earlier.

Sometime later that night, or in the wee hours of the next morning more likely, Isabelle sat stirring sugar into a cup of black coffee, her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her. She sipped at her drink, propping her elbow up on the table and resting her head on her hand. She was waiting for the computer to spit out the name of some dummy corporation that belonged to Marcus Alvarez, who was the leader of the Mayans' Oakland charter. By the silence out in the main part of the clubhouse, punctuated by loud choruses of snoring, she assumed that the party had officially come to an end. She didn't regret bowing out of the festivities. She just wasn't feeling it all tonight. Besides, it felt better to occupy herself with something worthwhile.

"Come on, baby," Isabelle whispered absently to the laptop, "Give me something to work with."

"I don't think it can hear you," said a sudden voice behind her, and she jumped in her chair. She spun her head around and looked up to see Jax standing in the doorway, grinning.

"Asshole," Isabelle muttered, turning back to the computer. She heard Jax close the door and watched as he sat down in Juice's abandoned seat across from her. They sat there for a few moments, just staring at each other. Finally, Isabelle said, "Have you been back to the hospital?" This appeared to be an unpopular topic with Jax because he scowled heavily at her.

"No," he answered simply, and Isabelle decided to drop it. She returned to her computer work, fingers flying expertly over the keyboard, and the two fell into another silence. This time Jax broke it after a little while. "You look exhausted."

"Thank you Captain Obvious," Isabelle said mockingly, not looking up from the computer and taking another drink from her coffee, "Please don't tell me you came in here to lecture me about staying up all night, because if you did I may be forced to shoot you." She glanced up at him, a glint of dry humor in her eyes, but it was clear that she had been serious about the lecturing.

"This isn't about you trying to impress Clay, right?" Jax asked her. The question seemed so out of the blue to her, that for a moment Isabelle just stared slack-jawed at him. Then it hit her and she wanted to slap him across the face.

"Jesus Christ, no!" she told him irritably, "Give me a little credit here, Jax, would you? I gave Juice the night off because I knew there was going to be no point in me trying to sleep anyway." She was pissed, more than pissed even at the idea that Jax thought she was doing this to please Clay, but she understood the suspicion. She had definitely been guilty of such actions in the past.

"Okay, okay," Jax said quickly, holding up his hands innocently, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean make you angry. Its been a long day." He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, stuck one in his mouth, then tossed the pack to Isabelle. She caught them and grabbed one out of the pack. After Jax lit his he tossed her his lighter which she used to light her cigarette.

"You got that right," she agreed with him, leaning back in her chair, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. She noticed Jax looking at her with concern.

"You should take a break," he told her seriously, "You look awful."

"Its not like I'm going to be able to sleep anyway," Isabelle replied, not sounding annoyed anymore. She knew he was just worried about her, and she appreciated it. There was a pause, and then she continued, "When I talked to Clay earlier, I knew what he was going to say, and I thought that hearing it would just make things worse. It actually made me feel better, like it reaffirmed my determination to one day where that cut." She gestured at Jax with her cigarette, indicating the reaper cut he was wearing. He looked down at it and then back up at her.

"You know I support you in your battle to be SAMCRO," he said sincerely, "But maybe its time you start considering the possibility that its not going to happen." If Isabelle hadn't been so tired, and there wasn't computer equipment everywhere, she would have thrown her half-empty coffee cup at him. As it was she just sighed.

"Clay's been telling me that for years," she said, flicking ash off her cigarette, "If you really feel the need to start doing it too let me save you some breath." She leaned forward, staring him down intently. "I will never consider or accept the idea that I will never get that chance. Its the only thing I have left to cling to. Without it...I may as well be dead."

Jax looked like he wanted to protest, but it was like he couldn't find the right words. Instead he got up and headed for the door, pausing to place his hand on her shoulder. Isabelle couldn't help but be reminded of Clay. And then Jax left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving her with her work. She sat there, totally still and silent, for several long minutes before finishing the rest of her coffee. She got up to make another cup, climbing over the bodies sprawled across the barroom floor, all the while thinking about the day's events yet again. When she made it back to the laptop, she knew that if she were to go to bed right now there would be no dream, and she felt relieved. But she had a job to do, and so she sat back down, stirred her coffee, and let the computer absorb her.

--

"You look like shit."

Isabelle, who had been pouring herself a cup of coffee, her vacant eyes staring at the brown stream, glanced up at the sound of the cheerful Scottish accent. Chibs was smiling pleasantly at her, and after the long night she had had, she very much wanted to throw another shot glass at him, just for being so damned chipper. But she was far too tired, and still feeling far too content with the two hours of dreamless sleep she did manage to get.

"Why does everyone keep telling me that?" she asked curiously, grabbing another mug from behind her and pouring Chibs a cup of coffee. He nodded gratefully and took a long sip.

"Because you keep doing stupid crap like stay up all night," he answered her. There was a hint of concern in his voice that Isabelle picked up on. Subtle, but it was there. She smiled a little at him as she took a drink of her coffee.

"Look," she said, "I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have gotten so upset about what you said. It was a long day and you pissed me off. But still, I shouldn't have thrown that glass at you." It felt almost silly, apologizing for something like that, but she supposed it had been an impolite thing to do.

"Don't worry about it, Izzy," Chibs told her with a shrug, "I shouldn't have opened my big mouth. Besides, its not the first time you've thrown something breakable at me, and it won't be the last." He raised his mug toward her, a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his face. Isabelle couldn't help it. She chuckled and grinned.

"True enough," she said, and lightly tapped her mug against his.

"Morning, guys," greeted another voice. Isabelle looked up and Chibs turned around to see Juice standing there rubbing his eyes groggily. Isabelle almost choked on her coffee, and Chibs shook his head. Juice, who seemed oblivious to their amusement, continued. "Hey, thanks again Iz, you know for letting me join the party last night."

"Sure thing, Juice," Isabelle replied, trying as hard as she could not to laugh, "You can repay me by putting some pants on." She said this casually, while taking a drink of her coffee. Juice looked at her, puzzled, and then glanced down at his naked body.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed and then bolted down the hall to get some clothes. Watching him go, Isabelle couldn't help but start laughing, and Chibs joined in, the two of them chortling over their coffee mugs.

"Well," Isabelle said when she'd caught her breath, "Never a dull moment." She raised her cup a little. Chibs nodded.

"Aye," he said, raising his own mug, "I'll drink to that."

--

Later that day, Isabelle was sprawled on top of a bed that was not her own. It was the weekend, so she was not working out in the garage today. She was glad, because she was still feeling the effects of the all-nighter she had pulled. She was tired, but she couldn't sleep. Clay, Jax, Tig, and Bobby had gone to go meet up with Darby and discuss the problem of the Nords dealing their meth inside Charming. She had been ordered to stay behind because, as Clay put it, Jax was going to be enough of a problem to keep under control. He didn't need to be keeping an eye on her, too. And as much as Isabelle would have been very happy getting the chance to confront Darby, she was perfectly content to lay there on her back, thumbing through a magazine.

"Jesus Christ!" came an exclamation from the doorway. Jax had just come into the room, and had been startled by seeing Isabelle, since he always locked his door. He didn't get mad at her though when she looked over and smiled at him, and just took his cut and sweatshirt off. "What are you doing in here?"

"What does it look like?" Isabelle replied, returning her attention to the magazine in her hands.

"It looks like you found my porn stash," Jax said plainly, and added, "Again. You're like a hound or something."

"Or something," she said with a smirk as she turned the magazine sideways, "You know, I always wonder why you guys feel the need to keep porn on hand when you can get laid anytime you want to." Jax looked at her with an eyebrow raised, then reached over and snatched the magazine from her.

"Because," he told her, opening a drawer and shoving the publication back inside, "The magazines aren't clingy." Isabelle grinned agreeably at that and sat up as Jax laid down on the bed next to her.

"So how did the meet go with Darby?" she asked, folding her legs under her. Jax put his hands behind his head and shrugged, but she noted he wouldn't look in her the eye.

"It went fine," he said, "The Nazi prick tried running his mouth, but we got it under control. Clay told him that if we caught anyone dealing meth inside Charming again it would be on Darby, whether or not the Nords were involved."

Nodding her head, Isabelle took a deep breath and then laid back down, so that they two of them were facing opposite directions sideways on the bed. She glanced over at Jax, who was still staring intently at the ceiling, and wanted to something. She wanted to talk to him about Abel, about Wendy, because she knew it was eating him up inside and that was dangerous combined with what they did. He needed to have his head screwed on right or he was a risk to himself and to the rest of the club. She opened her mouth to say all of this, and then there was a knock at the door.

"Jax, Izzy," came Tig's obnoxious voice, "Get the fuck out here. Clay wants to go over the Mayan intel." As his footsteps died away, the pair on the bed sighed simultaneously, stood up, and left the room.

Out in the garage, most of the guys were gathered around a table. Isabelle took a seat next to Chibs and Juice, while Jax spread a map out on the top of the table. She had versed him on everything she had found out and her conclusions. Sitting there, she could barely listen to what he was saying, her brain felt so tired. She knew she could push her body to extreme limits, but the mental exhaustion had her worried. Maybe she could sneak in a nap before they left. She felt Chibs nudge her with his elbow and she turned to frown at him. He nodded his head forward and she turned to see Clay looking at her.

"You here with us?" he asked her. He didn't sound upset, and even in her sleep deprived state she could still hear what was meant to be concern on his part. Isabelle nodded.

"Yeah," she said as firmly as she could, "Sorry, Clay. I'm just a little tired."

"Well, Gemma is running errands," Clay told her, "And I need someone to call Rosen. Clayton also said that he needed your help with one of the custom jobs that came in last week." Isabelle could have groaned, but she knew better. So much for napping. Instead of appearing annoyed, however, she smiled a little at Clay and nodded.

"Sure thing, Clay," she said, not letting her weariness betray her. This was going to be another long day.

--

"Izzy!"

The banging on her door made her head hurt, and Isabelle winced as she stood in the middle of her room next to her bed. She was standing in front of her floor length mirror, just finishing strapping her bulletproof vest to her body. She recognized the shouting voice as Jax, and quickly grabbed a shirt from off a nearby chair.

"Come in!" she called back to him, "I'm nearly done!" She heard the door open and Jax entered, already decked out in his dark hooded sweatshirt and his cut. He sat on her bed as she grabbed her own sweater from a drawer. Jax pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke into the air.

"This place is almost as bad as my room," he told her good-naturedly, smiling a little.

"Yeah," Isabelle began, focusing on her reflection in the mirror, "Well, if a certain someone would quit leaving their shit in my room it wouldn't be nearly as messy." She turned her head and looked at him pointedly. His grin widened mischievously.

Silence fell as Isabelle put the finishing touches on tonight's outfit. She grabbed the handgun she kept in a box in the closet and stuck it in her pants underneath her sweatshirt. She had a smaller one strapped to an ankle holster, and a knife both on her belt and in one of her boots. She threw a baseball cap with the words Reaper Crew on her head, positioning it backwards. Finally, she grabbed her "Family" cut and took a final glance into the mirror.

"Alright," she said to Jax, "Lets go get Ope."

--

Everyone in the club had their areas of expertise. The one thing that they were good at. Jax was the pretty boy, the guy who could get into anywhere just by flashing a smile. Clay and Piney had decades of experience in matters of club business. Tig was a psychotic asshole who felt no remorse about taking disciplinary actions on any scumbag Clay told him to. Chibs was good in a fight, and his five months of service as a medic in the British Army made him an asset in emergency situations. Juice and Isabelle were hackers, with the skills to gather information on anything that was needed. And then there were Bobby and Opie. They blew shit up.

"What are we doing?" Isabelle asked Jax as he stopped his bike along the street and got off, unbuckling his helmet. She stood and did the same, looking at him curiously. "Opie's house is still a block away." Jax looked at her seriously.

"Don't want to spook Donna," he said simply. Isabelle stared back at him a moment and then nodded her head. She understood.

The MC lifestyle was not for everyone. For Jax and Opie, it was literally in their blood. Both their fathers had founded the Sons of Anarchy, and so it was inevitable that they would become members themselves. All the women Jax had ever been with were "fans" of SAMCRO, or crow eaters as Isabelle liked to think of them. So there had never been much of a problem with the girls in his life having issues with his club business. But Opie had been with Donna since high school, before he'd even gotten patched in, and she did not like the idea of Opie being involved with such a dangerous lifestyle.

It had been a problem with their relationship for a long time, and only made worse after Opie was arrested when his kids were just babies. Donna blamed SAMCRO, and Isabelle supposed she had a point, not that she'd ever admit that. Things between Opie and Donna had just gotten worse since his release from prison. She wanted him out of the club, but she didn't understand how impossible that was. Isabelle only hope it resolved itself before it was too late to save their marriage.

"Donna, stop it!" they could hear Opie shout as Isabelle and Jax neared the couple's house.

Isabelle winced at the sound, and then again at the sight of Donna pounding her fists against Opie's chest. She hated seeing shit like that. She wished she could make Donna understand, or make it so that things could go back to the way they were. After a few moments, Donna stopped, gave Opie a look and then walked away, taking their kids inside. Opie watched them go and then turned and saw Jax and Isabelle standing there. He looked embarrassed, and told them he didn't hear them pull up. Jax told him they parked down the road, not wanting to tweak Donna.

"You see any of that?" Opie asked them.

"Enough," Jax responsed.

"I think she's already tweaked." There was a lull between them, where Jax looked at Opie with a mixture of sympathy and a longing to end his friend's suffering. Opie had a backpack slung over his shoulders, most likely filled with explosives and wires.

"Give me the bag," Jax told Opie firmly, reaching for it. Opie shied away.

"No way," he said, "If I don't show up Clay'll chop of both our dicks." The comment would have been funny if Isabelle were in the mood for laughing. Opie had a point, and she knew that Jax knew it.

"After I leave here," Jax began after a thoughtful moment, "Take your kid to the ER. Tell them she hit her head or something. Just get a record of being there. I'll cover you with SAMCRO." There was another pause as Opie let Jax take the bag. "Go face your family, man." Opie gave a small nod of his head, and Jax and Isabelle turned to leave.

"Hey," Opie called after them, and they both turned around, but he was looking at Jax, "Why didn't you tell me about your kid?" Isabelle glanced sideways at Jax, stopping in mid-stride to hear what he had to say. She hated seeing the troubled look on his face.

"I didn't know what to say," Jax finally told Opie, "I still don't." And then he kept walking, Isabelle close behind him.

When they got back to his bike, Isabelle took the bag from Jax, so she could ride double comfortably. She slung it over her shoulders and climbed on the motorcycle behind Jax, strapping her helmet back on. She listened to the start of the engine, and down the road they sped. They joined up with the other guys, and Jax explained to Clay about Opie taking his kid to the hospital. Clay didn't seem happy about it, but he didn't argue. They all arrived at the garage and piled into the large, dark van they used for their covert stuff. The bikes made too much noise. Isabelle wedged herself between Jax and Juice, and away they went.

They arrived in Oakland after dark, passing slowly through a residential area. Isabelle hated this place, but the thought of getting revenge on the Mayans brought a smile to her face. She shifted her weight in her seat, feeling the bulletproof vest rub against the bare skin of her chest. It was one of her favorite feelings in the world. It meant she was going where she was never supposed to. She was supposed to be like Gemma, always on the outskirts of club business, never in the middle, but that was never going to be good enough for Isabelle. She and Jax had been inseparable since they were still toddlers, and when her aunt died Clay offered her a room at the clubhouse. Nothing in the world could have kept her from this fate.

"Alright, kids," Clay said as the van pulled up outside a tall iron gate, "Lets find what's ours shall we?"

Once inside the warehouse, which just required a cut fence and a simple cutting of the power, the team scattered. There were towers of boxes and crates everywhere. The guys and Isabelle started breaking them open, looking for their stolen guns. There were tons of candles and cleaning liquids, but eventually they found their hardware buried under it all. It was a relief and everyone's spirits were high as they began loading up the van. Clay turned to Jax.

"Wire this place up," Clay told him, "And lets get the hell out of here."

Isabelle glanced at Jax as he unslung the backpack with all the equipment that was needed to blow the place. A thought had been coursing through her mind ever since the two of them had left Opie's house. While Clay went outside to make sure the other guys were getting everything into the van without any trouble, she walked over to where Jax was kneeling on the floor, pulling a pile of wires and sticks of explosives out of the pack. He already looked confused. Isabelle put a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me do it," she told him calmly. Jax looked up at her sharply, and the look on his face was one she wasn't expecting. He was trying to look angry, but Isabelle knew him too well, and she could see what looked like alarm in his face.

"I can handle it," he said hastily, "You just go help them load the guns."

"Jax, I know how to do this," Isabelle pushed on, "Bobby and Opie have both taught me how. Just let me-"

"I said no!" Jax shouted at her, cutting her off.

This made Isabelle back up in a hurry, looking at him with wide eyes. The two of them were closer even than siblings, and on occasion they fought, but very rarely did either of them yell at each other like that. They stared at each other a moment longer, and then Isabelle walked out of the building, heading out to the van where the guys were just finishing loading the boxes. Clay went to go check on Jax while Isabelle leaned against the van, arms folded moodily. Right now all she wanted to do was get the hell out of there.

"Shit," she heard Tig say in a hushed voice. She spun her head around, and gritted her teeth around her own cursing.

A truck was just pulling up outside the gates to the warehouse. Happy ran inside to tell Clay, and came back out a moment later with the orders to get the van out of sight. This happened rather quickly as Isabelle piled into the vehicle with everyone else, and Tig drove it out of site. This night was getting a lot more interesting than any of them had planned for. She grabbed the gun from her belt and checked to make sure it was loaded. The others were doing the same. And then it was just a waiting game. They had to wait for orders from the boss, and Clay and Jax had not come out to the van yet.

Just when the waiting was about to get to be too much for Isabelle, the sound of a gunshot cracked through the air. She was the first one out of the van, shoving herself past Happy and Juice to get out the door. Her shoes thudded against the pavement as she ran towards the sound, unable to stop the image of Jax lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood from entering her mind. But, she comforted herself, if Jax had been wounded or killed, there wouldn't have been just the one shot. Because Clay was with him. And sure enough, as step-father and son came into view, both were standing straight and whole, with guns pointed at one of the Mayans that had arrived in the truck. Another one was dead at their feet.

"Everything OK?" Isabelle asked, doing her best to keep the strained tone from her voice. She asked because Jax looked less than comfortable with the situation. He had his gun pointed at the Mayan kneeling before him, and she could feel the uncertainty coming off her friend in waves.

"Everything is fine," Clay answered, perhaps a little more sharply than normal because he too sensed Jax's unease, "Go around back, make sure this is all of them."

Without another word the rest of the guys turned around obediently and headed back in the direction of the van. Isabelle hesitated, but only fleetingly. She knew better than to defy the President in the middle of a job. With a final glance at Jax she followed the guys, gun raised. They spread out when they reached the back of the building. She could feel the adrenaline pumping hard through her veins as she scanned the layout, looking for any sign of movement that wasn't from a friendly party. So it came as no surprise when she nearly shot Juice in the head as he tapped her on the shoulder.

"Shit!" Isabelle shouted when she realized who it was, pissed off and scared out of her mind at the same time. Under normal circumstances, she would have knocked him out, but the innocent look of fright on his face just made her glad that she didn't have his blood on her hands. She simply said emphatically, "Don't...do that."

There was not time for Juice to respond before another series of gunshots cracked through the air. Instinctively, Isabelle grabbed Juice and dragged him to the ground. There was a slight pause before another series of shots, then some shouting by voiced she identified as Clay and Tig, and finally a few more gunshots. After only a mere second of quiet, she stood and immediately ran back to where Clay and Jax had been. She was alarmed to find Jax wincing, but a meaningful look told her that he was fine. The body count had reached four, including one who tried driving away in the truck before Tig shot him.

"Are we all good?" Isabelle asked, her voice making her sound out of breath, as though she had just run a long distance. This night was becoming incredibly taxing.

The whole group nodded, even Jax, though he still looked a little worse for wear. Isabelle would learn in the next half an hour, that the bullets had hit his vest, which she knew from experience could hurt like a bitch. But everyone was safe, they had accomplished their task with out any significant bloodshed on their part, and that was all the mattered. Her family was still whole. Now it was time blow the damn warehouse sky high and call it a night. The wired the place up, with a little imagination, and the fireball was a sight behold as they drove away.

--

By the time they returned to the clubhouse in Charming, Isabelle felt ready to pass out. She had gotten minimal sleep the night before, and her eyelids felt like they had lead weights on them. All she could think about as they piled out of the van was her nice, comfortable bed waiting for her, and the dreamless sleep she would have from now on. Tonight had reaffirmed her belief that this was the life that she wanted, a life she would be a part of till the day she died. This club meant the world to her, and one day she would be honored with the chance to wear that reaper cut.

"Hey, Izzy," Jax said as they walked to the clubhouse, "I'm sorry...about back at the warehouse." She had honestly been so exhausted, Isabelle had practically forgotten about the attitude she had received from her friend.

"What was that about anyway?" she asked him curiously, not upset at him. She could tell that it was hard for him to explain.

"I didn't want you to screw up," he said eventually, earning a raised brow from Isabelle. He struggled to find the proper words. "I didn't want you to do anything that might give Clay any more reason to keep you from getting patched." Understanding dawn on Isabelle's face and she walked over to him, putting her arms around him in a brief hug. When she pulled back she looked at him meaningfully.

"I appreciate what you were trying to do," she told him, "But maybe letting me put myself on the line is exactly what needs to happen if I'm ever going to be able to convinced Clay that I can handle wearing that cut." They stared at each other a moment longer, and then Isabelle turned and headed for the clubhouse.

"Hey, Izzy," Jax called after her, "You said you wanted to come with me to see how the kids doing." Isabelle shut her eyes in a groan as she turned around.

"Shit," she said, an apologetic look on her face, "I totally forgot." There was a moment of silence between them as they stared at each other. After a moment, Jax nodded with a soft smile.

"Don't worry about it," he told her, "You go on and get some sleep. You look like-"

"Crap I know," she finished for him, rolling her eyes. She returned his smile and then went inside to sleep. Just another day in the life...