A/N: again, I don't own SOA. also, if I don't always update quickly, I'm sorry. But I write during school and any other chance I get, though not many.

Also, thank you to you guys that reviewed.

.city - thanks, and I find it almost upsetting that not many people write about Happy. He happens to be one of my favs.

Brittni - It makes my day to hear that I'm doing them justice, I was kind of nervous about being able to portray a marine right, but I'm glad I'm doing okay.

Miamitravel - thanks for the lovely feedback :)

Here to Stay

I shoved the wall from behind my back, opened the door then looked back at their stunned faces. "I've done things I'm not proud of, I've killed a lot of people, and gotten away with it. But there's ALWAYS a reason, maybe you can't see it, but if you look hard enough, it's there." I ended the conversation, walked back into the bar, finished my beer and left, ipod in hand.

Headphones in, I yanked up the hood of my USMC sweatshirt. After a quick stretch, my legs jogged my body away from the clubhouse, away from the men inside that little room.

Several miles later, I was forced to stop at some gas station. I took down my hood and pressed pause on my ipod before pulling the glass door open. Inside I grabbed a water bottle and a granola bar, I didn't care how late it was, I was planning on jogging all night. I closed my eyes and willed my breathing to slow as I waited in line behind a men in a black vest. It smelled of leather, the strokes of white patched on it seemed overly familiar. The man obviously noticed me trying to catch my breath.

"You really jogged all the way here?" His voice was raspy and sounded like it almost hurt him to speak, but it seemed soothing and sympathetic.

I nodded then looked at him questioningly. "How--" I recognized his face. "Oh...Happy, right?" Those white marks were the Reaper, not some random design put there to make him look cool, or like he was trying to be.

"Yeah. That's some fucked up shit" He commented, no doubt talking about my little story back in the chapel, while he placed a soda and a bag of chips on the counter for the cashier to ring up.

"Uh huh, could we not talk about that?"

"Sure, whatever. Ya want a ride back to the clubhouse?" He pointed to his bike outside. The cashier he paid was eyeing him, trying to gain his attention, desperatly flirting. She pouted when she realized he was aking me, not her.

"Kay, just lemme pay for--" He took the items from my hand and held them up so the girl could see them.

"Sorry, forgot 'bout these" He threw a couple bills at her, gently slid his hand down my arm and wrapped his fingers around my forearm, just above the ink, and started to lead to me to his motorcycle.

He mounted first, then strapped the helmet on my head. I was capable of doing that myself but I didn't feel like moving much. I swung my leg over and wrapped my arms around his waist.

"Ya might wanna hold on li'l tighter, I have a habit of ridin a li'l too fast." He winked as he looked briefly over his shoulder at me. Honestly I wasn't ready to go back to the clubhouse, wasn't ready to face the questions the others would have for me. But something deep inside me wanted to be on the back of that bike with him.

"Could we hold off on goin' back there?" I whispered, more for the sake of saying I tried than actually meaning it.

He shrugged, "If ya want. But I can't stay out too late."

"What, Clay got you on curfew?" I was only being half sarcastic, though he laughed.

"Hell no, got a long ride back ta Tacoma tamorra, gotta wake up early, fucking 8 am"

"What are ya doin here in Cali then?" I caught the 'back' in his statement, meaning he wasn't from around here.

"Waitin' for you ta shut up so I can show ya 'round." He twisted and looked back at me, trying to hide the smile that was tugging on his lips. He knew very well what I meant, but refused to answer the question.

I squeezed my arms around him but said nothing. In response, Happy revved up the bike as we pulled out of the parking lot. The low rumbling sound the bike made was comforting, no wonder so many people rode them. I had rested the side of my face against his shoulder and almost fallen asleep back there. Well, as asleep as you can get when you're on the back of a motorcycle with some guy you barely know in a town you have yet to become familiar with.

I knew no one in this one horse neighborhood, if the Sons of Anarchy wanted me out of the way, no one would notice, though unless they put Chibs and Tig with a couple of shotguns on that job, they would never succeed. I breathed in the fresh air that whipped around my face. Oh yeah, Happy most certainly rode faster than the speed limit. But I didn't mind at all, the wind felt nice, cooling my body down after a such a long jog. I opened my eyes and stared at the blur of sleepy little town scenery flashed by us.

We pulled into to parking lot for the auto shop after about an hour and a half detour. He got off first, then I hopped down as well, unbuckling the helmet and handing it to him. As I went to pass him to go to my room and get some sleep, I felt his hand grab my wrist, pulling me between him and the bike. Normally, I would have just kicked him the balls and walked off, but there was something about the way he'd gripped me. It wasn't hostile, wasn't affectionate, just an attention getting silent 'hey wait a minute.'

"I just wanted ta say, in the store, place, I wasn't like holding your hand or nothin' creepy. That chick's got a thing for me, and in a really demented way" He explained.

"It's fine, I know what ya mean. Saw her staring. Looks like ya got your own stalker" I stuck my tongue out to the side, to show I was just messing around with him.

"She prolly does," He smiled, first time I'd seen that. He seemed like the type of guy who didn't smile too much.

"Well...um, thanks for the ride?" I offered after an excruciating long minute of enduring staying like that with him, neither of us making eye contact.

"No problem," He said to my back as I walked, creating a gap between us.

Happy soon followed me to the clubhouse. He stopped in the bar, leaning against it and greeting Tig, who stared intensely at my back as I continued my journey to my room. Someone was following me, trying to hide it and doing a very poor job.

"Which one is it?" I asked, unlocking the bedroom door. I began to pull it open but a strong arm pushed it back to its closed position, the old hinges groaned in protest at the sudden change of mind.

"Me." Said a familiar raspy voice. I turned and leaned against the wood of the door, looking him up and down. He had tattoos everywhere visible and probably any other places. Whoever had done it, did a great job.

"By the way, nice ink" I commented, shifting my weight a bit to see his right tattoo sleeve better.

"Thanks" His eyes followed mine as they flitted across the multiple areas of tanned skin covered in ink. Some were colored, others stayed black and white.

"So, how can I help ya?" I asked, after my inspection, tilting my head and meeting his gaze as he stared down at me. He shifted in place, an unmistakable sign of uncomfort.

"Well...uhm, I'm not good at this, but a bunch of the guys and I, we, uh, think your a'ight. Like, goin' through all that shit then tellin' us like that. Mean, you don't even fucking know us." He seemed to have trouble finding the words to put into a sentence. "At church tanight, after ya left, we voted on lettin' you stay," His hand changed position on the door from next to my head, to the handle.

Fuck. He's the messenger, make me feel like it's okay, then WHAM! You gotta go, bitch. It's like a goddamn boyfriend. He swung the door open, gently, so that fell into him. I staggered but quickly caught my balance. My body was pressed against his, close enough for it definitely be considered an invasion of personal space, but I didn't care, and from the way he didn't move, he didn't either. I tipped my head up looking at him, waiting for the verdict. It took a while for him to give one, he just stood there, staring down at me. Suddenly he snapped himself out of his little space out moment and continued.

"They, well, we decided it was fine, but a permanent arrangement would have ta be set up for ya." He walked forward, pushing me into my room.

"Permanent arrangement?" I questioned.

"Like findin' your own place an' shit. Til then, you're free ta come an' go." He stopped walking when we reached the middle of the bedroom.

"Really? Jesus, you guys really don't have ta do this...I got a friend in LA, said I could stay there...I'll admit it, I'm not the best person to have around in the morning."

"We do, and we are. And lookin' at your track record, you are the best person to have in a fight. God knows, we need that. 'specially wit that ATF bitch." He turned and walked towards the door.

"Thanks, by the way" I said into his back.

"No problem." He made to the doorway then turned around, leaning on his outstretched arms that were placed on either side of the door frame, "Oh, and next Friday, make sure you're still 'round, like here," He waved his hand around, "We got a surprise for ya." He turned, closed the door behind him and strode down the hall.

~Reviews are wonderful, crunstructive criticism gladly welcomed. Again, if it's crap, flat out tell me "Ash, It's crap."