Disclaimer: I don't own them, Kurt Sutter and FX do. Please don't sue me.
Author's Note: Enjoy. Reviews make me smile.
"Aw, shit. It's Fix." Half Sack swallowed hard and lurched away from the brush covered body. "Fix Martin's the one tried to kill Clay?" Juice just nodded and continued pulling things out of the large duffle that had been strapped to the back of his bike. "Jesus."
"Clay said to strip him. Keep the vest, burn everything else." There was a pallor against his skin as he pulled a pair of needle nose pliers out of the bag. "Then I'm gonna pull his teeth, then we take care of the body."
"Pull his teeth?" Sack was already struggling with the dead man's clothes. He tugged the leather vest free, glancing at it before dropping it to the ground. The Prospect patches had been stripped from the vest with roughened knife cuts that marred the leather. Juice just nodded. "I don't—"
"No teeth, no dental ID. When we're done with him there isn't going to be any other kind of ID either. Clay wants him gone." When Kip moved down to remove the corpse's boots Juice tightened his grip on the pliers and pulled a hard breath.
"Happy's better at this shit." The leather of Kip's gloves were tacky with blood and his fingers slipped against the complicated buckles and zippers that ran the trendy biking boots.
"Happy knows Tacoma." Juice swallowed again, tossing his head from one side to the other to crack his neck before stooping down to kneel in the dirt. "Let's get this done.
"He looks like shit." Smoke drifted free with the words as Gemma poured coffee with one hand. She pushed one cup across the counter and pulled the other closer. Tara slung the strap of her bag over one of the dining room chairs and stepped farther into the kitchen. She still carried the padded nylon bag that doubled as a med kit and there was also a small Styrofoam cooler under her arm.
"Well, he got shot Gemma. That tends to make—"
"I've seen Tig shot before. This is different. I think we should take him to a hospital." Gemma pulled another drag off the cigarette before butting it into a cut crystal ashtray. "Goddamn Clay. Just take off and leave this shit for the little women." She tipped a bottle of Bailey's against the rim of her coffee cup, slowly mixing liquor into the bitter liquid.
"I brought some stuff from the hospital, let's try that and see where we are…" She lifted the cooler and let it settle against the counter. "If he's no better tomorrow maybe one of the clinics in Lodi could be persuaded out of reporting a bullet wound."
Gemma sighed but nodded agreement as she cradled the coffee mug in both hands. Casting a look towards the other woman she headed towards the back of the house.
"I gave him two tranks a couple hours ago." She pulled the mug closer to her chest and turned the doorknob. "He was getting ready to climb the goddamn walls. I took them out of his own pocket, he can handle them doc."
"Jesus Gemma! Between blood loss and—" Gemma rolled her eyes at the other woman's words and pushed the door fully open.
"Not a drug alive that could hurt Tig."
Half Sack pulled his tee shirt up over his face and made a strangled, inarticulate sound as the wind shifted. The smoke that was coming off the body was thick and greasy with a smell somewhere between shit and smoked pork. Juice just took three large steps to one side, his shoulders resting against the outside wall of the warehouse as he cupped his palm around his cigarette.
"Couple more hours." He voice was stilted behind his hand, most of the normal energy faded and flagged. "When it's ash we're supposed to cover it."
"Why would Fix try to kill Clay?" Following the other man's unspoken advice Kip shifted away from the bonfire and leaned into the warehouse. "He was a good kid. Practically born into SOA from what he was sayin' at the last Charter party."
"His old man was the Sergeant at Arms in Tacoma a long time ago." Juice offered the half smoked cigarette to Half Sack but the younger man shook his head and tucked his chin harder so that his shirt was still up over his mouth and nose. "They'll figure it out. We just gotta make him gone." He returned his attention to the greasy fire and tossed the cigarette towards the flames. "Go inside and get some more gas."
Tara silently finished taking the unconscious man's vitals, her hands quick and sure as she refolded the blood pressure cuff and stashed it on one of the bedside tables. There was a slight seep of blood against the white bandage she'd applied earlier and she peeled it off to inspect the stitches she'd sunk into his side.
"There's a little bleeding…nothing to worry about." Spreading the tape back into his dusky skin she pressed against one shoulder, easily shifting the larger man enough to check the bandage on his back. "A bit more bleeding back here. Nothing out of the ordinary for now but if it gets worse we'll re-evaluate." Tig shifted under her touch, one hand tightening against the sheet that was shoved down around his hips before he relaxed back into stillness. "I've got IV antibiotics for the infection and—" A high pitched trilling made both women jump.
"What the hell?" Gemma turned in the center of the room, her eyes catching on the pile of blood stained clothing she hadn't yet thrown away. Using only her fingertips she riffled through the black denim and pulled a cheap cell phone from a pocket. Her eyes narrowed when she checked the caller ID. "Clay." She dropped the jeans back into a pile and stepped towards the door. "I'll be back."
Tara just nodded and continued her exam, fingers prodding carefully against the bone deep bruise that surrounded the hole in the side of his back.
"Hey doc." Tig's voice made her jump, her hands jerking away from his hot skin as she took a full step away from the bed.
His eyes were hazed and squinted, the thin slice of blue bright with fever as he smirked at her. "Sorry."
"Tig." The word exploded from her lips as she tried to regain her composure. She couldn't keep her feet from taking another step backwards, totally removing herself from his reach. The smirk widened into a smile. "You're—how are you feeling?"
"Like I got shot." He deadpanned the words, lifting both hands and skimming his sweated hair off his forehead. A wince ran his features as he moved but the shrieking pain from earlier had faded to a more dulled ache. "I gotta go." Tara moved back into the bed as he tried to sit up, her hands catching against his arms and stilling his movements.
"You're not going anywhere." Her hands were cool against his skin just like Gemma's had been, but there was a tremble and shake to her fingers that the older woman had lacked. "I'm going to hook up some IV's, get some fluids and antibiotics going." Her hair fell into her face as she turned and pulled a couple of clear bags of liquid from the cooler she'd brought upstairs.
"Got any morphine in there doll?" Automatic reaction had him moving closer to her, purposely putting himself in her space to make her nervous. "I'll take a bag to go." Tara cleared her throat and subtly retreated from his looming presence. She fumbled with an IV kit before giving him a hard look.
"I've got some vicadin. I'll give you one after I hook up the antibiotics." Dropping the plastic tray on the bed she reached for a pair of gloves. "Lay down." Snapping the latex into her wrists she waved one hand back against the pillows.
"I usually give the orders in the bedroom doc."
"Stop being an ass and do what the lady says Tig." Gemma snapped his cell closed and tossed it into an empty chair as she re-entered the room. "Tacoma says they had nothing to do with it. Why didn't you tell me it was Fix?"
"Tacoma says." Tig repeated slowly ignoring her question. All intimidation and defiance was instantly gone from his form as he settled back into the bed and focused his attention on the older woman. He didn't watch as Tara opened the IV kit and prepared to set the needle in the bend of his forearm. "He shouldn't be there alone Gem. You know that."
"He's not alone. And he's not stupid. The boys are there and they picked up some Nomads on the way. Happy's got his back." Gemma's voice hardened.
"Happy was Tacoma before he went Nomad." The older woman nodded, her eyes fixed on the easy way Tara slipped the needle into his vein and taped the rig solidly against the tanned skin of his forearm. "We don't know he's got Clay's best interest in mind. He was Fix's sponsor." Gemma matched looks with him, the coffee color of her eyes offering him sympathy that he tried to ignore.
"And you were his god father. Didn't stop you from killing him."