Hey guys! Whoo, long chapter! That might be because next chapter is shorter. Not sure yet but I hope ya'll enjoy it! Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! Hope you guys had a great Thanksgiving and Black Friday! I did according to my bank statement.

Random question here: am I the only one who sometimes refers to the Intelligence Officer as Juicy Juice? I am? Okay, forget I mentioned that. :P


Chapter Four

All of Their Baggage

"I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this." Claire mumbled over and over again, pacing back and forth in her room. She could not remember how long she had been at it; she couldn't even remember starting but part of her felt that the floor should have been worn down a good inch by now.

This was crazy! Absolutely insane! Her whole life she had been hoping for a family, a real one with a father that had loved her and a mother that actually seemed to care. After the stories she had, she thought that might come true for her. Brothers in blood alright, other people's blood. They hardly reacted to the murder charges, to the raid, like it was just another day at work. And of course Claire could not shake what Stahl had said to her.

Something was wrong with the Sons alright: everything.

With a sigh, Claire collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling. What had she been thinking staying with these people? She knew it was wrong to assume that all motorcycle clubs were bad but the Sons of Anarchy hardly looked like innocent do-gooders. She knew there was something wrong with the way they spoke, how they regarded her, how they tested her. The entire time she had been thinking about it but the instant Clay opened his arms, she had tossed it all aside. Gemma was right. She had been looking for someone to take her in, so desperately that she disregarded every warning sign that would have sent a normal person running for the hills. Of course, when had her life qualified as normal?

Claire sat up, burying her face in her hands. How could anyone live this way?

Her door flew open, slamming into the wall. She did not look up at the intruder. It was fairly obvious who had come after her.

"Get up," Gemma said, the authority in her voice making her sound more like a Drill Sergeant than a human being.

"Why should I?" Claire asked, remaining firmly planted on the bed. Gemma gave her an icy look but it did little to help. All she received from it was a glare.

"I'm going to show you something."

"Is it my body bag?" Now Gemma had a new look on her face. She appeared to be contemplating something. Claire thought it strange that her look appeared slightly warmer after her comment. Things didn't make much sense in this family but she had already figured that out.

"Haven't decided yet."

Claire began to laugh, much to her own surprise. "No, of course not. Your murderer just got locked away."

"Alleged murderer," Gemma replied, placing an emphasis on the added word. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway, waiting for her response. At first, Claire had none. She just gaped at the words still fresh in her memory.

"Who talks like that?" she whispered, suddenly standing. "I mean, you sound like someone out of a crime show. Alleged…that's not normal!"

"What, were you expecting the Partridge Family? This is reality, princess. It ain't sugar coated."

Oh, she knew that.

Claire opened her mouth to say something but in her anger, the words vanished on her. Snapping it shut, she shook her head and started to pace, needing to find some way to vent her frustrations.

"Being in your good graces isn't exactly a priority for me or the club, so you can either come with me or you can leave. I don't give a damn which."

So once again, Claire found herself at a crossroads, only now she was painfully aware of what their side would bring to the table. If she was smart, she would have gone with the latter. An empty future sure looked a lot more tempting than one she was fairly certain would end bloody. But like before, she found herself drawn to this group. Something inside was compelling her to stay and so despite the protests of every intelligent part of her, she nodded.

"Okay, where are we going?"


Driving with Gemma in complete silence may have been the most awkward thing Claire had ever experienced. Not once did Gemma even bother to touch the radio, but for some reason she believed that would have made it an even more cringe worthy experience. For the most part, Claire watched the outside world pass by, noting everything about the small town such as the lack of chain stores and the abundance of colorful characters. No one here seemed like a cardboard cutout of something that already existed. They just seemed like…them.

Eventually the two pulled into a parking lot for Saint Thomas. After being a part of a police raid where a man was carried off for murder, it was definitely more than unnerving to find herself at a hospital. Maybe Gemma was going to show her to her body bag after all.

Silently she followed behind Gemma, avoiding eye contact with any of the personnel they passed. From the looks she saw, these people knew Gemma well, which was not very encouraging. She tried not to think of the things that might be gossiped about her, a scared to death looking girl they did not know following this woman around like a lost puppy.

Finally Gemma stopped in front of a window. She motioned with her head and Claire looked inside.

It was the nursery. Inside were several babies, most sleeping though a few still seemed to be awake. One in particular stuck out to her, a little boy with a baby blue cap that had a reaper on it. She tilted her head, trying to get a closer look at the tag on his bed.

"His name's Abel," Gemma said. "Jax's son."

Claire looked up and nodded. "He's beautiful."

"He sure is." Gemma looked at her grandson, swelling with pride. It was now that Claire could see the kind of person Gemma was. She was no longer the Queen, high and mighty on her throne, intimidating to all who fell under her. She was just a mother who loved her family as much as any other. Suddenly a lot of things made sense to her, why she was the way she was. For a moment, she understood her. "Almost didn't make it. His…mother was doing drugs while she was pregnant."

She looked back to Abel. "I know a bit about bad mothers."

"I bet you do." Claire did not say anything but was not bothered about what Gemma said. It did not contain a trace of sarcasm like usual. Instead it almost felt like the woman was sympathizing with her but that sounded too good to be true. "He comes home day after tomorrow. We're throwing a party. The whole club is going to be there."

Claire touched the glass, wishing she could reach a little further. What a lucky child he was. He entered the world struggling but now he had a family, a large one that was pulling for him and would be there for him every step of the way. She hoped that the feeling rising in her chest was happiness and not jealousy toward the little bundle in front of her.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "This is what the club is about. Family. Everything else, it's just baggage, unimportant."

"Baggage," Claire echoed. "I guess that's the nice way of putting gun handlers and murderers." She spoke it in a whisper without any anger, which was probably why Gemma was kind in her response.

"You learn to love the club, Claire. Everyone else has."

Claire bit her lip. "Why me, Gemma? Why try so hard to keep me here?"

Gemma sighed and was silent a moment.

"Why do you care so much about her, Clay?" Gemma had asked one night as they lay together after a round of sex. Normally she didn't engage in this sort of pillow talk but her damn curiosity was getting the better of her.

Her husband sighed. She could feel the bed move as he ran a hand through his hair. "Regrettin' things in my old age, I guess."

Gemma looked up at him, not liking where it was going. "What's that supposed to mean?"

There was a pause. "I knew Monica was pregnant. It's part of the reason I drove her out of town."

"Jesus Christ," Gemma mumbled, crawling out of bed. She needed a smoke. "You want to confess anything else before it comes walking through the door?"

"You listen here," Clay said, pointing at her as she slipped on a robe. "This shit was before us. I don't owe you any kind of explanation."

"So what is this, huh?" Gemma asked, gesturing. "Some kind of redemption? Making up for lost time?"

Clay shook his head, looking uncertain. "I don't know. Claire's been through some shit. Life with Monica can't have been easy. I guess she just…deserves something better."

Gemma's look softened. She took a step forward and placed a kiss on her husband's forehead. "You're getting soft."

"Don't remind me."

"You're blood, Claire, family, whether any of us like it or not."

Claire got a strange sort of smirk on her face. "And what do you think?"

Gemma gave one of her rare smiles. "I think I can get used to it. Welcome to SAMCRO."

"Sam…crow?" Claire repeated, confused. Gemma placed a hand on her back and led her away from the nursery.

"Looks like those wings of yours might come in handy."


It was the day of Abel's homecoming. While Gemma was in a frenzy getting last minute items, Claire had been left to her own devices and was currently sitting at the counter of a local diner, filling out her third application of the day. She had meant what she said about getting a job and paying them back. According to the new outfit she wore, proper fitting jeans, a good pair of flats and a comfortable blouse, she already owed them some money.

Claire was humming a song to herself, which happened to be the one by Pink Floyd Juice had shown her, happier than she had been in quite some time. She supposed it was unusual, her sudden acceptance of the family after everything. No, it was unusual, probably psychotic, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she was built for a family like this, different. It was the family she deserved. Fitting in with a normal group of individuals suddenly seemed a much more difficult task the longer she thought about it.

Besides, if her tattoos didn't scream destiny, she had no idea what did.

Clay and Gemma had given her a spare bedroom in their house. She hadn't wanted to cry in front of them, but she had, unable to control herself. She had suppressed the urge to hug either one of them though, knowing that was definitely a long way off from being a habit but Clay had surprised her by giving her a small one, welcoming her home. Somehow it just felt right.

Gemma, of course, had to top it off when they left her for the evening. Just before she closed the door, she said, "If I catch you sleeping on the floor, I'm kicking you out."

Smiling to herself, Claire finished up the application and waited for the waitress to return. She took a sip from her water and looked around. Out of the other places she had been to, a grocery store and a gas station, this was definitely the best. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, much like the town. She would not mind working there.

"Haven't seen you around before."

Claire looked to her left, noting a man in a police uniform. He was young, probably around Jax's age, and very handsome. She smiled, trying not to look stupid.

"Is Charming really that small?" she asked, wondering if everyone truly knew everyone.

"I'd like to think so," he replied, pushing his empty plate away. "So, when did you get here?"

"A few days ago." She paused. "How do you know I'm not just passing through?"

He pointed to the paper in front of her. "Not many visitors stop to fill out applications." She could feel her skin heat up. So much for not appearing stupid. The man chuckled. Great, he noticed. He offered his hand. "David Hale, Deputy Chief."

Claire shook it, preferring this form of law enforcement over the others she 'met' the other day. "Claire Hayford."

He nodded. "So, Claire, where are you staying?"

"Up on Oak Street with family." She watched Hale slowly piece together the information. If the Sons were as prominent as she thought they were, she figured he might draw some sort of conclusion.

"If I may ask, with whom?"

Just as Claire was about to answer, the bell attached to the door rang and in stepped Gemma. She lacked bags but Claire had a feeling the back seat of the car was filled to the brim.

"Gemma," Hale said.

"Deputy," she replied with a nod. She nudged Claire. "Ready to go, kid?"

The look on Hale's face was priceless. Claire tried very hard not to laugh but the smile still got through. He looked at her. "You live with them?" She nodded.

"Can't you see the family resemblance?" Gemma asked, her sarcasm back with all its glory. After a few moments, when it was clear that Hale would not be responding, the two walked out of the diner together. She followed Gemma back to her car which, as she thought, was about to explode with supplies. Getting in the passenger's side, Claire waited until they were on the road to say anything.

"So, how well do you know him?"

"Don't even think about it," Gemma deadpanned. That shut her up the rest of the car ride.


"Are you really sure I should be here?" Claire asked as she set up the buffet of sorts in the kitchen. It was just the two of them, which should have seemed like a daunting task but Gemma was some kind of miracle worker, probably taking care of more than half of the work load. She had wondered why they were doing it alone considering all the 'help' that was offered by the other women of the club, the sweetbutts, crow eaters or whatever the men liked to call them. Gemma made it clear why they were doing it on their own: it was strictly a family matter. The little tarts, as she referred to them, didn't have the privilege of being included. Claire found it odd. She did nothing and was 'privileged' while they did everything (literally) and got no more than a kick out of the door.

Gemma gave her the 'are you really asking me that?' look. "Of course I am. Why shouldn't you?"

"I don't know," Claire mumbled, giving the salad an extra toss. "Too soon maybe. Hardly anyone knows me."

She heard the shuffling of feet and realized Gemma was standing behind her. "Remember, you're family now. You have to start interacting at some point."

That managed to get a laugh from Claire as she finished setting up. Not long after, the front door opened, revealing a woman, two children and one of the Sons she had yet to meet. He was a big man, tall and broad, but despite his intimidating physical attributes, he held a look in his eyes that suggested he fell more along the lines of a gentle giant, at least as far as a Son could go.

"Gifts go in the nursery, down the hall to the right!" Gemma shouted, not looking up from whatever was cooking on the stove.

Claire smiled at the newcomers, a gesture reciprocated by the woman. She walked up to Claire, looking a lot taller than she did next to her husband, though she still fell just below her height.

"You must be Claire," she said with confidence. At this point, people knowing her name no longer surprised her.

"I am," Claire replied with a nod, not exactly sure what else to say. It was like she knew their names.

"I'm Donna. These are my kids, Ellie and Kenny, and my husband, Opie. I'm not sure if you two have met."

"Hi," Opie said as he shook her hand. He turned to Donna. "I'm gonna take the kids to Abel's room."

"Okay," she replied, turning back to Claire. "So, how are you settling in?"

"It's been a…bumpy road." She paused. "I'm sorry. It's just weird that everyone walks in here knowing my name."

"Yeah, you get used to it. If there's anything you don't want people to know, better make sure to keep it to yourself or the whole club will be in on the secret." Claire knew she had pegged them on the gossip. People always spoke about women doing it but there were days she believed men were worse.

Donna looked around. "So, is there anything I can do? Or maybe I should ask the slave driver."

"I heard that!" Gemma shouted, her voice carrying over from the kitchen. The two smiled and went back to help her.

Time passed. The darker it grew, the more people arrived. At this point Claire felt she had met almost everyone, save for Robert, who they all referred to as Bobby. It turned out Opie was born into the club as well. The older man she had seen the other day, Piney, was his father. He was a gruff man, and if possible taller than his son, but she liked him. He was every bit the old biker she imagined. It even entertained her that he still smoked with his oxygen, as dangerous as it was.

Most people had eaten already, too impatient with Jax taking his time coming over. She had joined the line for food and watched almost in terror as the Scotsman, or Chibs as he liked to be called, piled an extra amount on her plate.

"Yer skinny enough as it is," he had said. "No need to help it."

She had chosen to sit in a corner of the room, satisfied with watching the family interact. This was the part she had been looking for: the closeness, the laughter, the love. It was perfect and to think all these people knew about what the Sons did. They had adjusted, why couldn't she?

"You doin' alright?" Clay asked as he sat next to her, a beer in hand.

Claire nodded. "Yeah, I think I am."

"You know, I didn't really expect you to stay."

"Neither did I," she admitted. "Gemma has a way with words."

"That she does," Clay replied, taking a swig from his beer. The two sat in comfortable silence after that, both watching their family. Claire took a moment to wonder what was to become of all this. She could never picture herself calling Gemma mom but would she call Clay dad or father? Would they ever be close or just good acquaintances who lived under the same roof? Could she ever find herself talking and laughing with the family as others did now or would she always be a wallflower, watching and content to keep quiet?

"If you keep thinking so hard, you might hurt yourself," Clay mused, interrupting her thoughts. She looked over at him and nodded, but said nothing. "What's on your mind?"

Claire shrugged. "Everything I guess. My life, the club, family." She spoke the word as though it were foreign to her.

He sighed. "Listen, Claire, this isn't going to be easy, for either of us. But this family, it's a good thing to have." He paused. "And that shit you had to go through the other day, I'm sorry. It's normally not like that."

"Then what's it usually like?"

"Quiet."

Claire smiled. "Seems a bit ironic if you ask me."

"Trust me, it's not all about gang bangin' and cop killin' over here. We like to keep things simple. All this will blow over and life will go back to its normal, boring self."

"I like the sound of that."

"Thought you might."

Things in the house quieted down when the front door opened, revealing Jax with baby Abel in his arms and a woman with wavy blonde hair. It must have been his mother. She looked pretty good but Claire could spot a user when she saw one. Over the course of her life she had met enough of them.

Clay immediately stood up and walked over, barging through the crowd that had gathered. Claire stayed where she was. She had no right to take a turn with him. Maybe one day she would but not now.

As she sat there watching the interactions, Claire noticed a very bored looking Kenny sitting at the coffee table. He had a pencil and a piece of paper in front of him but appeared to be doing nothing with it.

Now she wasn't exactly the best with kids, having no siblings of her own or any other young family members. In fact, she considered herself quite awkward with them and the thought of being stuck alone with one was at times terrifying. Despite all this, she felt compelled to talk to the boy.

Stepping out of her seat, Claire sat next to him on the floor. "It's Kenny, right?" The boy nodded. "Are you going to draw something?"

"No," he said flatly, completely uninterested. Claire bit her lip.

"Mind if I give it a try?" He slid the paper over. Grabbing the pencil, she thought about what he might be interested in. Cars maybe, or dinosaurs, typical boy stuff. She considered a motorcycle since his dad was in the club but that seemed too unoriginal; she was over thinking it.

Finally an idea struck her and Claire began to sketch. Her hand moved rapidly over the paper so the drawing was light at first until repetitive movements began to darken it in. Eventually she noticed Kenny glancing over at the drawing, curious. He wasn't alone. Claire had not failed to see Juice sitting on the couch across from them, watching it with the same fascination. Comparing the two boys entertained her.

When she finished, Claire presented the paper to Kenny. On it was a cowboy twirling his lasso in the air while riding a horse. Kenny stared at it wide eyed a moment before running off and shouting, "Dad, look what Claire drew!"

She watched the adults gather around him to look at the drawing. Claire noticed Gemma's nod of approval and she felt herself swell with pride. If she impressed the Queen, she had a chance.

"That was pretty damn impressive," Juice said to her.

Claire smiled. "Thanks. It's just a hobby really."

"Yeah, like hacking into computers is mine."

She tilted her head to the side. "I never took you for the nerdy type."

He shrugged. "That's cause I'm not. Have to be intelligent to be a nerd."

Sitting down next to him on the couch, Claire gave Juice a funny look. "You seem intelligent to me."

"Thanks for the compliment but that clearly means you don't know me well."

"How so?"

Unbeknownst to her, Jax had been listening to their little conversation. He leaned over the couch and said, "You're talking about the guy who woke up in a diaper with a sign stapled to his chest."

Claire looked up at Jax like he was crazy but he just smiled knowingly and walked away. "What did he say?"

"Nothin'," Juice said almost immediately, eyes wide and embarrassed.

"No, no, I heard something about a diaper and staples."

"It's a long story."

"It's a long party."

For the next hour or so, Claire spent her time talking with Juice. She did not want to say that most of the time she was laughing at things he did but it was true, especially when Chibs decided to share a few of his own stories. However, when a dark haired woman stormed out of the house, Juice was tasked to leave and Claire found herself alone on the couch with the beginnings of a stomachache.

As time passed on, she continued to feel worse and decided to escape outside. The air was much cooler and she took in huge gulps of it, sitting on the front curb. That was when she heard the front door open and saw Donna, Opie and the kids walking out. They were headed home for the night. She didn't really want to bother them with a ride but the last thing she needed was to embarrass herself at the party.

Donna was about to get in the car when Claire approached her. "Hey Donna, would you mind giving me a lift home? I'm not feeling too well."

To her relief, the woman smiled. "Sure, no problem. Actually…" She turned to Opie who was about to get in his truck. "Hey, are you going straight home?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I was thinking about staying and helping Gemma clean up. I'll take the truck and get Claire home." The two quickly exchanged keys, and kisses, as Claire crawled into the passenger's side of the truck. They were on the road in no time, the motion not helping. Claire tucked her head between her knees and stayed that way.

"How you feeling?" Donna asked, rubbing her back briefly.

"Chibs did this to me. He made me eat all that food."

"Well, you are pretty skinny."

"I'm well aware of that," Claire replied in a not too friendly tone. She could hear Donna chuckling. Good to know she was in a great mood. She was quiet for a bit after that. "Does it ever get better?"

"What do you mean?"

Claire turned her head to look at her, keeping it low. "Life with the club."

She saw Donna pause, thinking about it a while. Then she nodded. "It does, Claire. It might take a while but it does." Satisfied, Claire turned her head back toward her feet.

They were stopped when it happened. The only thing Claire was really aware of was the pounding in her head and stomach, though she thought the radio might have been on. Then she heard the sound of smashing glass and a few dull thuds. Suddenly the horn of the truck was blaring in her ears, the only sound that had actually made her jump. Claire looked up, locking eyes with Donna, only hers were lifeless as she leaned against the steering wheel, blood pouring out of her head. She blinked, reached out to touch the woman but stopped, afraid.

She heard the sound of screeching tires and could not help but look up, even though every alarm in her mind warned her not to. There was a black SUV next to them, the driver of it staring straight at her with surprised blue eyes. They stayed that way for a few moments before he drove off, shouting something she couldn't make out. She watched him leave, panting. The gravity of the situation suddenly began to weigh down on her.

Donna was dead.

She had died in the truck with her.

She was dead and right behind her.

Claire began to freak out, pulling at the handle of the truck desperately but for some reason it did not open for her at first. Tears began to stream down her face as she struggled, finally shoving the door with a shout and spilling out onto the road when it finally gave way. She fell onto her back, lying like that for some time, crying. A man rushed to her side, asking if she was okay, but all Claire could do was sob. Then she turned over and got sick in the street.

Those eyes. Oh God, she knew those eyes.


Uh oh...

Sorry if this chapter, though long, felt rushed. It's basically a giant set up for Chapter Five which contains a scene that I have honestly wanted to write since this incident first happened in Season One. So it might take a while for me to update. I'm going to want it to be perfection. These first chapters have shown Claire introduced into their world but these next chapters are setting up the role Claire is going to play with the Sons and what kind of person they make her.

Also, if it's not too much, I posted another story on here called "Heartbeat." I would really appreciate it if you guys checked it out.

Thanks for reading!