AU: When the SAMCRO SAA is gravely injured, his estranged daughter comes to Charming to take care of her father while trying to repair their broken relationship. Opie Winston, still mourning his old lady, is instantly smitten with his brother's outrageously outspoken and incredibly sexy daughter. As the pair continue to butt heads, everyone around them, including Daddy Dearest, can see that it's love-at-first-fight. Can Tig's daughter—something of a social misfit—find a way to fit into SAMCRO, while helping the taciturn and beast-like outlaw find love again, even if her father was marginally responsible for the death of his old lady? Sequel to Charming Revisited and part of the Jaxene Universe.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.
The atmosphere in the waiting room of the third floor Surgical Suite was grim. Over the years it seemed as if the Sons of Anarchy had become permanent fixtures in the colorless room. So much blood had been spilled by members and their families alike that the running joke was that maybe this wing should be renamed after the Club. After all, they seemed to spend as much time there as they did at the Clubhouse.
Once again, SAMCRO found itself sitting vigil for another fallen brother. This time it was its Sergeant-at-Arms whose blood had been spilled. He had barely been clinging to life when rushed to St. Thomas earlier in the day and, as the hours slowly passed without news, good or otherwise, the unspoken fear of losing him hung over the crowd packed into the waiting room.
Jackson Teller sat in cold, angry silence with his brothers. By looking at him, you wouldn't be able to tell just how grateful he really was to be alive. Because had it not been for Tig Trager, he was almost sure his bullet-riddled body would be lying on a slab in the hospital's morgue. Instead, thanks to his quick-thinking SAA, he was alive and relatively unharmed considering the circumstances.
Even though the possibility of a sale going wrong always existed, Jax was busy beating himself up for taking for granted that this one in particular would be a simple transaction. It pissed the outlaw off to the extreme to think just how quickly the sale had turned to shit, all because he had let his duty to honor a debt cloud his judgment.
That's what I get for not listening to my fuckin' gut.
Jax could read people almost as if it were some psychic ability, like he could somehow see into their minds. He rolled his eyes at the thought that it was a gift he had inherited from his mother. In actuality, it was their body language that he tuned into and living a life where he always had something to hide almost made him an expert on what to look for. Sometimes, even before he realized he was reading someone, he'd get an uneasy tightness in his gut that warned him to stay alert and keep on his toes. Listening to that very feeling had saved him, as well as his brothers, on a number of occasions. He had known the moment he had lain eyes on Nate Meineke's son Russell that he should have pulled out of the deal.
But he hadn't.
Jax looked up as his VP sat down next to him in one of the uncomfortable bucket-shaped seats in the waiting room.
"How you holding up, brother?"
Jax ran a hand through his hair. "Not good man. You?"
Opie sighed as he leaned his head back, resting it against the wall. "I fucked up, Jax. This is all my fault. I brought this to the table—"
"Don't even start that shit with me, Ope. There's no way you could've known that it would go sideways. We all voted on it." Jax gave his best friend a hard stare, forcing Opie to acknowledge his point with a slight nod. "Did Hap get everything squared away?"
"Yeah. The scene's been wiped clean. I also spoke to Cacuzza, told him we had an emergency. He's not too thrilled about having to wait a few more days before we can reschedule the delivery, but he understands the situation." Opie explained. "Besides, his buyer just wants the merch and is more than willing to sit tight and wait for our call."
Jax rubbed the hair on his chin in consideration of what Opie had just said. "Sounds good, but we really shouldn't keep Cacuzza waiting too long. He's moving this shit East for us. With us one man down, we can't afford to look weak, like we can't control our shit." He stated. "I say we wait 24 hours, see how shit plays out with Tig and any blowback from law enforcement and then we move the merch. I'll reach out to him personally, offer him 2% of our cut for his inconvenience."
"The potential for some serious blowback is huge, brother. What are we gonna do about those assholes, that fuckin' Meineke bastard?" Opie growled.
The bastard in question was Russell, the son of Nate Meineke, an old war buddy of Opie's dad, Piermont "Piney" Winston. Having served several tours of duty in Vietnam with the future co-founder of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Original, Nate Meineke was the man responsible for saving Piney's life at the Battle of Khe Sanh in 1968.
With Nate living close by in Modesto, the two old war vets had kept in touch over the years. When Piney had died three years ago, Nate and a whole platoon of other 'Nam buddies had come to Charming to pay their final respects at the funeral.
Knowing that the Sons were the go-to source for guns in Northern California, Nate had approached Opie, trading on his relationship with Ope's old man to request a favor. He and his son were looking to buy some merch.
Not making any outright promises, Opie had brought the request to the table and Jax had been quick to bring it to a vote. Debts of blood need to be repaid, Jax had said. Nate Meineke had played an integral part in the formation of their way of life. Although Nate was never a member, by saving Piney's life, he had enabled Piney to return stateside, where he not only co-founded the Club with John "JT" Teller, but had also fathered a son, who would not only become his Club brother and VP, but his lifelong best friend. Jax felt that it was right and honorable to grant Meineke's request and their brothers sitting around the table had agreed.
But sometimes being good and honorable, at least by outlaw standards, was the wrong play to make, as Jax soon discovered earlier that day.
Jax, Opie, Tig and Chibs had set out in plain clothes late in the morning to meet their new buyers in Woodbridge Forest. Located on the outskirts of Modesto, the forest was a densely wooded area used for deer and elk hunting, but also had a number of streams and ponds teeming with a variety of fish.
Coming into the forest on an old logging road with Tig and Chibs in the cargo van and Jax and Opie on their bikes, the Sons pulled into the clearing they had designated for the exchange. It was the middle of the week and the forest, usually teeming with hunters and fishermen during the weekend, was desolate. Parking their rides next to the cargo van, Opie and Jax walked around to the front of the van where Tig and Chibs were waiting.
Leaning against the van Opie eyed his best friend. "I hope Nate shows up on time."
"He better." Tig chimed in. "We need to make this quick 'cause we got Cacuzza's crew meeting us halfway, and they're not the types that like to be kept waiting."
"Nobody likes to be kept waiting around, bro." Jax responded. "I just need the Italians there and waiting for the handover because I have a couple of things to take care of before heading home. I promised Abel we'd work on his bike afterschool."
"Jackie Boy, ya boy's determined to get his arse on dat Sportster, eh?" Chibs commented, lighting up a cigarette.
"I have Ope to thank for that shit. Giving Kenny that Panhead for his birthday lit a fire under my son's ass. Talk about a fuckin' green-eyed monster, he dies a little bit every time he sees Kenny on his bike."
"Hey, don't pin that shit on me." Opie argued. "I was having enough trouble keeping Kenny off of it until he turned 16. I just gave the fuck up. Maybe you should, too."
Jax gave his best friend a withering look. "You want the gavel that bad, just put a bullet in the back of my head, bro, 'cause my old lady won't be that merciful." He deadpanned. "She's already giving me shit about us wanting to finish the rebuild."
"Dat's cuz she knows like mother, like son." Chibs laughed. "Just like lil' luvvie tried driving Piney's monster of a truck when she was 12, she's afraid he's gonna try ridin' tha' bike before he's ready."
Jax smiled devilishly. "My son's ready. I've been giving him lessons for months now."
"Aw, shit. You better not let Doll Face find out." Tig snarked. "I'd hate to have to vote in a new Prez."
"Hey, if he's gonna sneak the bike out behind our backs, I'll feel a lot better knowing he can handle it." Jax replied.
The conversation quickly came to a halt as the group saw a large black SUV pull into the clearing and watched as the driver parked it under a thicket of shady elm trees. As the two men exited their vehicle, Jax crossed his arms over his chest as they approached and waited for his VP to make the introductions.
Nate Meineke, a stoop-shouldered elderly man with rapidly thinning hair, was wearing a pair of old Army surplus cargo pants, combat boots, and a faded olive green wife beater.
"I really appreciate you making this accommodation. I knew Piney for many years. He was a good friend and I knew how much he loved his Club and his brothers. It's good to see younger generations honoring old friendships." Nate said with humility.
Jax nodded. "You did Piney a solid back in 'Nam. SAMCRO feels such debts should be repaid."
Shaking hands with the man, Jax noted that he seemed to be a little tense. But it was the attitude of the young man behind him that sent alarm bells ringing in his head.
Russell Meineke's entire demeanor seemed combative and aggressive, the look on his face reading as if the whole situation was a massive inconvenience for him. Considering the sensitive nature of their business, the Sons didn't deal with just anyone and it was clearly evident by the man's attitude that he had no appreciation of that fact.
Walking around to the back of the van, Opie opened the double doors and revealed a half dozen large crates.
"Shit!" Russell breathed. "That's an awful lot of crates to hold our six AKs."
Opie, who like Jax had sensed something peculiar with the young man, did very little to hide rolling his eyes. "They're not all AKs and they're certainly not yours. Yet." He advised. "This crate here holds what you want." He made quick work of opening it to reveal the guns.
"I thought you guys only ran AKs, Glocks and shit." Russell commented.
"We're a full service organization." Jax said grimly. "If we can't get it, it can't be gotten. Anywhere."
"So what kind of merch are you guys running?" Russell said with a calculating look in his eyes. "Maybe we can do some more business in the future."
"These?" Opie asked and Russell nodded. "This shipment is a special order—a couple of RPG's, a fifty caliber machine gun and some other shit you wouldn't be interested in. Nate said you guys were mainly into war games, right?"
"Yeah, that's right." Russell said as he rubbed his chin. "Maybe we better test your shit out. Make sure it works." Taking one of the AKs offered to him by Opie, he started testing out the hardware on a copse of trees.
Standing out of the way of gunfire, the Sons watched as Nate and Russell tested all six of the AK-47s. Afterward, Nate had walked towards Opie and Jax as they waited by the cargo van with Tig at their side. Shaking their hands and thanking them profusely, Nate motioned to Russell to pay Jax the agreed upon amount of $18K for the hardware, which was less than half of what Sons normally charged.
Slapping an envelope into Jax's hand, Russell turned his back and headed towards his SUV. But the moment the envelope hit his palm, Jax could tell that it was light by at least eight grand.
"Hey, this is a little light."
Standing at the back of his cage, Russell's stance telegraphed his intent. His legs slightly apart, braced and ready for action, his shoulders set with his right hand reaching into his army flak jacket, Jax realized a second too late that the little shit was about to open fire.
Tig, however, was a lot quicker on the uptake.
As the nine-millimeter handgun in Russell Meineke's possession let loose a barrage of bullets aimed in his direction, all Jax could remember as he pulled out his Glock was being knocked to ground by the force of his SAA's tackle. Hearing his brothers yelling as they returned fire, the last thing Jax remembered seeing before his head smashed into the hard ground was the look of astonishment on Russell's face.
And the perfect bullet hole in the center of his forehead as his body was slammed against the SUV and then slid down to the ground.
Dazed for less than a minute, Jax felt the heavy weight of a body lying across his legs.
"Oh, shit!" He gasped as he angled his head and saw Tig, blood seeping from multiple gunshot wounds to the head, shoulder, and lower body.
Moving quickly, Jax ignored the pain in his head while trying to help Chibs as the former British Army medic tried to assess the damage. "Shyte, brutha. He's hurt bad. Get me the kit, quick!"
Staggering to his feet, the SAMCRO Prez climbed into the cargo van to retrieve the large first aid kit his old lady had insisted outfitting each of the Club's vans with in case of emergencies. Holstering his weapon, Opie ran to the other side of the SUV to check on Nate Meineke. The old man was splayed on his back, his eyes wide open and unseeing, his life's blood pooling around him as it pumped out of the wound in his throat.
Jumping out of the van with the kit, Jax crouched down next to Chibs. "How bad?"
Chibs was tearing through the kit. "Bad. I need to stop at least some of the bleedin'." Finally finding a tourniquet, the Scottish-born biker worked quickly to fasten it on the SAA's right leg, which was gushing blood. "The little fucker got him good. It looks like he nicked the femoral artery. I can't find no exit wounds in the shoulder or hip and the shot he took to the head grazed him pretty good. Jackie boy, I just don't have the 'no-how to stop him from bleedin' out. We hafta get him to St. Thomas ASAP."
"Shit! Ope!" Jax called out. "What's that shithead's status?"
Opie ran back to his brothers. "Dead. They both are. I think Tig took the kid out and Nate didn't even have a chance to pull his weapon. I don't think he knew his piece of shit son was gonna try to kill us." Dropping to his knees next to Jax, Opie swallowed the lump in his throat as he saw the gray unconscious face of his brother. "How's Tig?"
"Not good." Jax replied bleakly. "Call Hap and tell him to haul ass over here with a couple of brothers and a van. Then help me unload the cargo."
While Chibs continued to render first-aid, bandaging Tig's wounds to the best of his ability, Opie and Jax worked to unload the van before loading Tig inside.
"A'ight. Let's get him to St. Thomas." Jax ordered.
"How are you gonna explain—" Opie started.
Jax was shaking his head. "No clue. I'll figure something out on the way. You stay here with the merch and wait for Happy. Have him clean up this shitty mess and then get the load back to the warehouse. While you're waiting for Hap, get in touch with Cacuzza and let him know that we have to postpone the transfer. Once everything is back under control, meet us at the hospital." Jax ran down Opie's to-do list as he readied himself on his bike.
"Be safe!" Opie yelled as the cargo van and Jax tore out of the clearing and burned rubber as they raced back to Charming.
Now sitting in the hospital waiting for word on Tig's condition, Jax was feeling the weight of several issues pressing down on him. Anxious to hear that his brother was going to survive, Jax tried to occupy his mind by trying to come up with a plausible story to feed Sheriff Eli Roosevelt when he finally made his presence known. In the interim, Jax had tasked his Intelligence Officer with digging into the Meinekes background, while the Unholy One took care of getting rid of the bodies. It was obvious now that the Meinekes had a hidden agenda and Jax needed to know what it might be in order to prepare for the inevitable retaliation.
Having received a call from Juice that both he and Happy were on their way into St. Thomas, Jax left Filthy Phil and a couple of Prospects to watch over his mother and old lady who had been sitting vigil with him. Gathering the rest of SAMCRO, Jax appropriated the chapel on the main floor in order for Juice and Happy to bring the Club up to speed on their current clusterfuck.
"You're not gonna believe this shit," Juice started. "But it looks like our two gat-stealing douche bags were part of a group of so-called Nationalists looking to overthrow the American government."
"Nationalists? Isn't that jus' another word for whack-job idjits with too much free time on their hands? You've got to be fuckin' kidding, brutha." Chibs groused.
"I kid you not. Although I do believe they prefer the term 'Freedom Fighters'." Juice responded.
"How did you find this shit out?" Clay asked.
"Apparently, Chibs is not too far off the mark in his assessment. These guys were idiots. It took me all of three minutes to hack into Russell's e-mail accounts using his cell phone as a starting point." Juice started explaining. "It's a pretty small group, about 15 to 20 active members. Most, not surprisingly, have served time for tax evasion, making terroristic threats against government agencies such as the ATF and FBI, possession of bomb making materials, etc. One member, Frank Cison appears to be the leader of the group. I pulled his military record and it turns out that he and Nate did a tour of duty with Piney."
Opie shook his head wearily. "Shit! From the e-mails you managed to hack into, was Pop or the Club mentioned in any way? Anything that might connect us to their disappearance?"
"Nope. We're completely clear on that front." Juice assured him.
"Twenty people?" Jax asked perplexed. "That's not enough bodies for a proper Friday night after-Church party, never mind a revolution."
"Trust me, they had a bigger picture in mind and part of it was to run their little operation out of Mexico, if you can believe that shit." Juice replied.
"As if a bunch of white rednecks in a Latin American country trying to blow shit up would go unnoticed." Happy remarked sarcastically.
"Like I said, not too smart." The Intel Officer continued. "To keep off the grid, the plan was for each group to travel in pairs until they met up at their final destination. In order to be accepted into the group, however, each pair had to bring to the table at least half a dozen automatic weapons to jump start the revolution and money to fund the cause."
Opie rubbed his hand over his beard. "And that's where we came in. Jax, I'm—"
"Don't start again with that shit, Ope." Jax cut him off. "Even if we had done a deep background check on these guys, I doubt we would have access to this kind of Intel. It was a small order, nothing that raised any red flags and we took Nate Meineke at his word that he needed the AKs for war games in the woods. He saved your old man at Khe Sanh and played that card for an in. Everything seemed legit, so if this was anyone's fault, it's mine."
Jax wanted to slap himself for the oversight. Even though Jax believed that their connection to this group of "freedom fighters" was a well-hidden secret, if he had tasked Juice to do proper due diligence into the Meinekes, it was still possible they would have found something to warn the Club off the deal.
"My gut was burning, telling me that Russell was just a little too interested in the rest of our cargo." Jax continued. "I still think the plan was to shortchange us on the pre-agreed price, but when he saw our merch—"
"He must have thought he hit the fuckin' jackpot." Opie growled. "The AKs are nothing compared to the actual fire power they could bring to their cause by jacking our merch."
"That's it for the bad news." Juice interrupted. "Now for some good news. Each group was supposed to show up ready for transport across the border through Texas two days from now, but there's only a small and precise window of opportunity. Anyone not at the rendezvous point at the appointed time is considered a loss. Once in Mexico, they were going to liaise with other splinter groups and morph into this giant supergroup, expanding their base, so the Meinekes not showing up—" Juice paused.
"Would be chalked up to bad timing on their part. The rest of the group will think that they either changed their minds, got busted, or just plain fell off the radar." Half-Sack grinned.
Juice nodded. "It would be too risky to come looking for the Meinekes. And the Meinekes pretty much cleaned up after themselves. Nobody in Modesto is gonna suspect foul play or file a missing persons report."
"How do ya figure, Juicy?" Chibs asked.
"Nate and Russell have no family left in Modesto. Their last living relative was Nate's wife, who died of cancer about six months ago. They sold all of the property they had—their home, cars, the wife's jewelry—and my contact at San Joaquin Savings & Loan tells me they both cleared out their combined bank accounts to the tune of $325K, which was probably their contribution to the cause." Juice grinned as he looked at Happy. "You wanna tell 'em?"
"Why the fuck not?" Happy smiled almost evilly. "I found a large duffel bag in the back of their cage containing at least $300K in hundred dollar bills."
A chorus of hoots and laughter went off in the chapel as Jax stared at Happy dumbfounded. "Are you shitting me?" He exclaimed.
"I shit you not, my brother." Happy grinned. "Apparently, the next stop after jacking our guns was Texas. They had army fatigues and supplies, camping equipment, food rations, the works. They were getting the hell out of dodge and quick."
"They had a deadline to meet. Russell must have figured it would be a lot easier and quicker just taking our shit than actually placing an order. He obviously had no idea who he was messing with." Bobby chimed in. "Fucking shithead was not only crazy, but stupid."
"Yep, a classic, yet deadly combo." Clay smirked.
"But no match for crazy and smart." Happy added. "If not for Tig, we prolly wouda been burying all of you."
"That kid was just plain stupid." Jax replied strongly, knowing he owed Tig Trager his life, if he survived. "Russell Meineke didn't stand a chance against crazy."
And so for the last eight hours, Jax and his brothers had been waiting to hear whether or not their brother would live or die. During the long wait for Tig to come out of surgery, Jax had contacted Lorca, the Tacoma VP and tasked him to track down Tig's estranged wife, Colleen and their two daughters. As far as he knew, they were Tig's only family and they had the right to know about his current condition.
Soon after being discharged from the Marines, after serving two tours in Honduras and the Gulf back in the mid-80s, Tig had patched into SAMTAC, living with his old lady and two daughters in Tacoma. However, after JT died, Clay Morrow had assumed the Presidency and asked JT's SAA, Big Otto Delaney to be his VP. Needing to fill the now-vacant SAA position, Big Otto recommended bringing Tig down from SAMTAC. With all the losses SAMCRO had suffered as a result of ongoing feuds with other MCs, the Club desperately needed an infusion of new blood at the table.
Having come to know Tig from his many trips to the Tacoma charter and knowing something of his history, Clay knew that the talented, tough-minded and fiercely driven younger man would be an asset to SAMCRO. His expertise, garnered from his Marine training, would make him an excellent protector and enforcer, especially with the Club involved in a war with Mayans, which would ultimately last two years before the two MCs would be able to broker a deal for an uneasy peace.
Tig had considered it an honor to be asked by the National President to make the leap to the mother charter. Unfortunately, with Bloody '92 raging on, Tig figured that, for the short term, it would be best for his family to remain in Tacoma. Conflicts always ran their course and eventually died down and in the interim, it would give him the chance to settle down and find a home for his family. Tig Trager had been under the impression that Colleen, along with his daughters, would jump at the chance to move to Charming.
However, his old lady felt otherwise. Having been humiliated one too many times by Tig's extramarital escapades, Colleen Trager took her daughter on an "extended visit" to her parents in Oregon and decided to stay there. She had no intention of relocating her children to what she referred to as "some backwater sleepy town only to be forced to put up with Tig's shit." Although never asking her husband for a divorce, and Tig never offering one, Colleen had pretty much cut ties with her old man and his Club. As a result, Tig saw his girls only once or twice a year at best while they were growing up.
Clay, who probably knew more about Tig's family history than most of his brothers, advised Jax that it was unlikely that any of his family would show up, with the possible exception of his oldest Dawn, who had recently shown her face in Charming about 18 months ago.
Unfortunately, Clay had been right. Only a couple of hours later, Jax heard from Lorca, who had managed to track down Colleen through one of SAMTAC's old ladies she still kept in touch with. Colleen, while sorry to hear about her old man's condition, seemed uninterested in seeing her estranged husband before he died. It saddened Jax to realize that the only family willing to stay by Tig's side during what could be his final hours was SAMCRO.
With Tig still not out of surgery as late evening approached, Jax walked over to his old lady and pulled her out of her chair.
"I'm having Clay take you and Gemma home." Jax announced as he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly. Sensing an argument coming out of her mouth, he continued. "I want my family safe and under wraps, okay? Besides, it's been a long day for you."
Cupping his face, Jolene pulled him in for a tender kiss. She knew he was right. With her mornings starting at 5:30, it had been a long day and Neeta needed to be relieved, but Jolene didn't feel ready to leave his side. Although Jax had refused to discuss the details of what had transpired while they were still in the hospital, it didn't take a genius to figure out that, with his SAA fighting for his life, Jax had been the shooter's intended target.
"When are you coming home?" She asked quietly.
Jax shook his head. "Not for a while. Not until I know for sure how he's doing."
"Okay," Jolene nodded, equally grateful and saddened that Tig had to put his own life on the line to protect her old man. "Just promise me you're going to keep a low profile."
"Jo, I'm surrounded by my Club. I'll be fine." Jax assured her.
"I know, but the Club can't protect you from law enforcement." Jolene replied earnestly. If he gets arrested, who's going to protect him in County?
"I'm not worried about that, babe, and you shouldn't be either. I'll be fine, I promise." He flashed her his most confident grin.
Jolene practically rolled her eyes, prompting Jax to pull her in for a deeper, harder kiss.
"Call me as soon as you hear something." Jolene said as she pulled away.
"Get some sleep." Jax demanded, good-naturedly.
Jolene shook her head. "Not without you. Not tonight."
Jax watched as his old lady left with her father and his mother. Today had been a close call for him, he knew it. It wasn't the first and most definitely wouldn't be his last. He'd give anything to be able to see his kids tonight, hugging them close before putting them to bed, but knowing that Tig could die without ever seeing his family again was breaking his heart.
I can't leave him here to die alone, Jax thought.
But his old lady did have a point. I need to keep my ass on the move and out of the path of the fuckin' Sheriff.
The outcome did not look good for Tig Trager. Dr. McNamara, the surgeon who had performed multiple surgeries on Tig along with his surgical team, had finally entered the waiting room to relay the extent of Tig's injuries.
With the entire SAMCRO inner circle standing with their President, the doctor gave them some hard truths. "We almost lost him, several times, but he's a strong man. The bullet to the head only grazed him, but the wound was deep. Fortunately, it did not damage the brain. And that's the good news." The exhausted-looking doctor advised after the nearly ten-hour operation. "Mr. Trager sustained severe internal damage. The shot to the shoulder was quite nasty and did a lot of damage to the cartilage. The hip shot shattered the bone and we had a difficult time piecing that together. Should he recover, he will have a permanent barometer to let him know when the weather is about to change. The worst, however, was the bullet we removed from his thigh."
"Da one tha' nicked his femoral artery." Chibs spoke up.
"Correct." The doctor nodded. "He lost a massive amount of blood and we couldn't increase his blood volume fast enough. His blood pressure became critically low and he suffered a heart attack."
"Oh, shit." Opie said softly.
"We stopped the bleeding and, because of his rare blood-type, were finally able to replace his blood volume by using a saline solution. I can't sugarcoat it. He's a very sick man and he's in a coma. He's been installed in a private room in ICU." Sighing as he ran his hand through his platinum gray hair, Dr. McNamara grimaced. "The next 12 hours are critical."
"And if he makes it through that?" Jax asked quietly.
"We'll know more in the morning. The sooner he wakes up, the better his prognosis." Dr. McNamara paused with a sigh, then continued. "If he has any family, I suggest you get them here as soon as possible." Turning away from the suddenly quiet group, the doctor headed towards the cafeteria to get himself a much needed meal.
Now it was just a matter of waiting to see if Tig would survive the night.
After the briefing on the Meineke situation, Jax had put himself to the task of coming up with a scenario to explain the shooting. It was fortunate that a bust of a large meth lab in Pope had kept the Sanwa Sheriffs too busy to interrogate any Club members regarding the shooting, but they were living on borrowed time. It would only be a matter of time before Sheriff Eli Roosevelt reared his ugly head.
Until he knew for sure whether or not his brother was going to pull through, Jax needed to stay clear of the Sanwa Sheriff's cross hairs. With the shooters already dead, the top priority was keeping the Club protected.
Because as Tig would tell his brothers himself, The Club always comes first.
A/N: The first chapter of a new fic is always the hardest, but I'm already enjoying working on this new story, so I hope you've enjoyed reading the set up. This chapter was on the short side, but if you know me you also know that won't be the case for too long. :)
I'm looking forward to introducing you to the other main original character of this fic in the next chapter. I think I've come up with several interesting scenarios for this story and I really hope you give this new character a whole lot of love.
Please let me know what you think so far. I am eagerly waiting to hear from all of you.
—Harlee