Author's Note
Welcome, and thank you for joining me here for After the Tornado. This is primarily a Happy/OC fic, with another longstanding Chibs/Tig/OC arc that I'll definitely have a few kickbacks to.
You may well be joining me after a long, long ride of Family Ties/ It Was Always You / Finally Found You / Children of the Sun. If so, oh my gosh, I can't believe you're still going but I bloody love you for it. And if you're new - welcome! You should fit right in here - I don't think there is anything that you need to know from previous stories but if you have any questions at all, please don't hesitate to leave feedback or PM me and I will help you out with the folklore.
For new readers, all you need to know is that Natasha, Nero Padilla's granddaughter and Chibs' daughter, is Happy's old lady. Despite their age difference and totally contrasting personalities, they are the perfect fit. But Natasha, in a bid to keep her family and the club in one piece, agreed to leave Charming with Russian arms dealer Dmitri Pelekov, sacrificing her relationship with Happy in the process.
This story is named after a song by Jim's Big Ego - the lyrics open the chapter, and I could just hear them in my head as I wrote Happy's drive out. I hope you see the fit.
Enjoy, and I cannot wait to hear what you think.
Sara x
bad things happen
to the kindest people
God and the Devil
are kind of hard to tell apart
and I feel like my soul's been crippled
slowly
after the tornado
when everything is wrong
and everything means nothing
in this bright green desert
these miles of phone lines
this line of skinny trees
and I feel like my soul's been crippled
slowly
under the grist mill
when everything is wrong
can't fly anymore - I've forgotten my wings
can't fly anymore - it's like I don't know how
can't fly anymore - and I can't rise above
and leave myself behind me
I've grown roots in my own body
my mother loved me
my father loved me
but I was always hungry
it was never enough
and I feel like my soul's been crippled
slowly
after the tornado
when everything is wrong
when everything is wrong
Happy wiped the blood off his hands against his pants and looked up towards Tig with a nod. "Dead." That would be another tattoo when they got back to the club tonight, he realised as he nudged the Chinaman's corpse with his foot. Another mindless fuck with the tattoo artist too, he could do with that to relieve a little stress.
"More of this yellow bullshit." Tig sneered as he watched Happy hoist the body up to toss into the back of the van. "They just think they can do whatever they want around here these days."
Happy pursed his lips. It had been an ongoing problem for almost two years now. Henry Lin had been getting cocky since the club had closed itself up to the outside world and kept below the radar. The rumours about disorder in the SAMCRO ranks had been floating around Charming, that was for sure, and with Filip Telford long gone, they weren't without their reasons. Jax, however, had forced a low profile on all of them until the trust between them could be rebuilt.
"Yeah, well." Happy grunted as he lifted the feet and folded them back on the guy with a satisfying crunch. "Not without reason."
The unspoken tension hovering between them was thick but Tig bit his tongue and simply sniffed. "History is history." Happy was silent and Tig could feel the guilt making his ears burn. His neck prickled and he glanced across at his brother. This had been the first time in a long time they had been sent out on the same task, and it felt as uncomfortable as he had expected. "You, uh, found a way to get to her yet?"
Happy didn't answer, his jaw growing tight. He slammed the door to the back of the van and stomped around it, his boots crunching through the mud as he paced back to the driver's seat. He didn't want to talk about it. Every damn effort he had made to see her had been thwarted for months on end, and he was sick to the back teeth of trying to get access.
Tig bounded around to catch up, slipping into the seat beside him. He stared at Happy, waiting for an answer, but Happy remained quiet as he started the van. Tig, trying to encourage him to talk, rubbed the sweat from his palm through his hair and carried on.
"Juice said you'd tried, you know? Tracked her phones, staked out the Russian's house? But what, she just disappeared?"
He could see Happy's expression growing black and he sighed, looking out of the window forlornly. They drove on in silence for almost an hour, making their way out to the woods to ditch this new bit of evidence, before Happy finally ventured,
"How's your wife?"
Tig snorted derisively. "Like I know." He held out his hand, looking at the grubby-looking wedding ring on his finger. He still wore it, holding out hope that, somehow, it kind of meant something to the universe if not to her. "It's complicated, I guess."
"Not to me." Happy didn't even need to look at him for the words to hurt. "She's fucking Chibs and she's happy, it's as simple as that."
Tig sneered, put out. "You know, I kind of like it more when you don't talk." They continued to drive but Tig couldn't bare the silence for more than another couple of minutes. "We fucking suck, right? Two old ladies and not a clue in the goddamn world how to get to them."
Happy had to laugh at that. It wasn't like he hadn't thought of a few options for that. "They got something in common." He glanced to the side now and caught Tig's eyes as they sparkled bright with anticipation. "We could start there."
Tig's smirk dissolved into a smile and he rubbed his hands together. "I thought you'd never ask."
"You want to what?"
Two years at the head of the table had put a few grey hairs through Jackson Teller's blond locks. It had been a lot of work to convince the club that he had only been trying to make his way back into the club, not back to his seat. Persuading them that he had never forced Chibs' hand to give up the presidency to him was… difficult, at best, but with Bobby's support he had managed it.
"We want to target Nero."
Juice sat quietly in his seat, looking between Tig and Happy with concern. "Why?" This could never go well, he knew that. "Nero's done nothing but help us. We have business together."
"Nero's not our friend," Tig muttered quietly. "You all know what he did to me."
He lifted his chin, displaying the long, ragged scar against his neck and breastbone, and Jax grimaced, waving the gavel towards him in reference.
"Tig's right. He nearly killed him."
"And we took that vote," Quinn murmured softly, his voice the most rational at the table second to Bobby's. "On Tig's advice, we didn't pursue it."
"Plus the money from Diosa, it's been a constant cash flow." Bobby flexed his fingers as he looked at Tig curiously. "Why are you changing your mind?"
Tig knew better than to expose their rationale. Focusing in on Nero, bringing attention on him, it was a surefire way to drag his family back to Charming, whether they wanted to be there or not. Nero was too important a figurehead to the Padillas to be ignored.
"Just think it would be a good time," Tig muttered. He leaned back in his seat, resting one hand at his mouth and pulling on his lower lip gently. "Club's in good standing right now, we're ready to make waves again."
"Lin's not backing down," Happy ventured. "We cleaned up another one of his guys last night. He thinks he's safe to play, show a little power because we're keeping trade with the Russians out of the spotlight. A flex, on Nero, it would be good for the club."
Jax listened intently to their advice, his eyes resting on Bobby, his vice president, constantly. "What do you think?"
"I think we run a risk," he murmured. "A risk with Diosa, the house in Stockton. It would be a financial hit."
"But the guns are good," Rat replied. The table looked down at him, he had thickened out over the years and was now a full and valued member of the table. "Better than ever. Black's buying them up, Mexicans too."
Juice, still unsure, shook his head. "A move on Nero puts the trade with Alvarez in jeopardy. They'll never support us."
"What if it just seemed like we were going for him?" Happy suggested coldly. "If he were to disappear for a couple of weeks?"
"It would depend what you're trying to achieve." Jax sat back in his seat calmly, eyeing the two suspiciously. "Let's not fuck around, you two haven't exactly been best buddies for a little while. Why are you suddenly backing each other? What do you want?"
It only took him saying it out loud for the penny to drop. He laughed a little, shaking his head as he pinched his nose and groaned deeply. Bobby caught on too and stared at them both.
"You've got to be shitting me."
"I've got to see her, Prez."
Happy came out with it. For all of the times he was able to play it cool, when it came to Natasha, he found it near impossible. He waited for the laughter to stop before he continued, completely serious and unflinching in his resolve.
"You know Pelekov keeps her locked out. What has it been? Eighteen months? Eighteen months and not one person in this whole town has seen her?" He toyed with his fingers, focusing on his nails in a bid to keep his focus on the task at hand. "I'm good at what I do. We all are, and not one of us has found her. We see the Russian once a goddamn month and there's still no fucking sign of her. It's the only way."
He flicked his gaze up to the rest of the table now, looking at each of them for a reaction. Jax rolled his tongue over his teeth slowly before squinting towards Tig.
"And you? You think this'll bring your old lady back?"
Tig gave him a half-hearted smile. "It's got to be worth a shot, right?"
Juice cleared his throat loudly, his loyalty to Chibs still deep in his heart. "What if she doesn't want to come back? What if she's happy?"
"Put the personal politics aside," Jax said, zoning in on Happy's previous thoughts. "Hap's right, Lin's needs shooting down a peg. If he thinks Nero did something out of line and we're clamping down on our friends, it makes him wonder how ruthless we'll be with our enemies." He nodded slowly, mulling it over. "This could be good timing."
Bobby shrugged, pulling off his glasses slowly. "I could cook the books, shift a couple of things around. Make it look like he's been skimming." He crossed his hulking arms, his seat creaking as he leaned forwards. "Nero's an honest guy, though, with a lot of loyal friends."
"And a lot of loyal family too." Jax tapped the gavel down on the table. "Set it up. We'll close it out by the end of the week."
Happy roared as he knocked back another glass of tequila and slammed his fist against the post as the tattoo artist finished her work. Her hand waited patiently on his belt buckle, waiting for his usual instructions to get into the apartment, but he simply ruffled her hair with one hand and slipped her some cash.
"I'm good."
He looked down at the red skin around the smiley face inked into his toned torso. His thumb brushed over it and he winced at the pain, even thought it hurt, he needed to feel it.
"You sure, baby?" The blonde looked up at him, wetting her lips but he nodded.
"I got shit to do."
Pulling his white vest back on, he picked up his cut and dragged it onto his shoulders. He nabbed the cigarette from behind his ear and leaned in to Jax for a light as he made his way out towards his Harley. It was the same routine every night, however pointless it felt, and he made his way out of Charming towards Walnut Creek.
The ride was quiet, the way it always was, but to Happy, it felt like this trip had more purpose. Maybe he was closer, maybe it was all going to start moving in the direction he needed it to.
He slowed as he came towards the end of his route. He paused at the end of the dust track, looking up at the house longingly. He had made this journey every single evening without fail and he eyeballed the security cameras and electronic fences with the same contempt he always did.
"I'm here."
It was more to himself than anything else but he stared up at the darkened building. The house was huge, a grand-looking mansion set up on a hill, a real upgrade on Dmitri Pelekov's former residence. Happy closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath of the night air, hoping that, somehow, he could breathe in whatever Natasha had exhaled just moments before. He missed her, there was no way to get around how much he missed her, and he hoped that his daily pilgrimage would somehow attest to that.
"I know I hurt you," he muttered quietly. "I know I made mistakes, Tash. But I swear, you give me another chance and I'll never, ever let you down again."
His eyes almost popped as, just for a brief second, one of the lights at the top of the house flickered on and off. If he had blinked, he would have missed it, but he felt his heart beat faster. She was there, and he knew it. She could see him, and it was the only signal she could give him.
"I'll get you home," he promised, his fist clenching as he saw the floodlights out front suddenly switch on, drenching the front yard and path with bright white light. He blinked and stepped back, just dipping out of sight and back into the shadows. "I'll make it all right."