The trio reassembeled in the kitchen and with a deep breath all prepared to speak. However one voice spoke over the angry mumblings of the other's. In no mood for what had the promise of an argument on an apocalyptic scale, Gemma raised her voice over Clay's which due to his power and deicbel ability was no mean feat. "Wait till morning. We're all tired and now is not the time to start screaming and shouting.".
Both Clay and Grace stopped their argument but said nothing more, neither of them wanting to admit to the fact that Gemma was right.
Clay shifted after a moment of silence, placing his right foot fowards and adjusting his stance by resting his arthertic hands on his hips. He then proceeded to bore his eyes into Grace with a warning glare. "Do as you're told and maybe I'll put your early departure up for a vote." As he spoke his index finger punctuated the end of each word with a sharp thrust in Grace's direction.
"Fine." Grace replied neither obviously curtious nor disrespectful.
With a final warning glance Clay stomped off through the spacious hallway which was painted in an assortment of neutral but warm colours, to what Grace assumed to be his and Gemma's bedroom.
After Clay's somewhat hasty departure the two females were left with the weight of an awkward silence. Despite Grace being well known by the other club members and affiliates, Gemma wasn't too well acquainted with the youngest of Piney's offspring. This was quite surprising as Gemma considered Opie to be a second son to her due to all of the time Ope and Jax spent at each other's homes not even pretending to do their assignments during the years they were at school. However, recalling back the past, Gemma realised that most of the club events she was involved in never had Grace on the list of attendees and rightly so, club parties were no place for innocents.
"So, you wanna sit down and let me sort out that face?" Gemma asked as she turned to pull various vegetables out of the refrigerator, gesturing towards her with a carrot, then placing them onto a chopping board which was riddled with knife marks indicating it's frequent and heavy use. The boards abused condition didn't surprise Grace from a distance all she knew was it seemed that a lot of what Gemma did was make meals for the boys. In fact, although she hadn't gotten to know Gemma as well as she knew some of SAMCRO, what she saw was that the matriarch never really stopped working or helping out the club whether it was working in the dingy office of Teller-Morrow 9 till 5 or planning, cooking and serving at regular meals that she hosted for the club and its family or lending a hand in any situations where she was required.
"Um, no thanks," Grace brushed off Gemma's offer with what she hoped was a casual refusal. "I'm sure I'll be fine - it's just a couple of scratches."
Even Grace could hear the obivious lie through her words. A couple of scratches? Both Gemma and Grace knew that to be complete bullshit - they were quite deep and the one on her cheekbone was still slowly but shorly leaking blood.
"Babe, if you don't get that sorted, your face is gonna end up lookin' a complete mess." Gemma replied, raising her eyebrows as a dare to Grace to contradict her. Still Grace stood static neither wanting to sit down nor admit that Gemma was undeniably right.
Even though Gemma was focused on peeling assorted vegetables she could sense Grace's reluctance and that arguing with Opie's sister was not going to make any progress. "Top right cupboard at the back – antiseptic wipes, band aids. Bathroom's third door on the right." Gemma gestured down the hall with the shinning blade still garnished with the remains of a carrot.
After 30 seconds in which Grace still hadn't moved, Clay's old lady looked up to the confused face that was staring at her. "Go on, go clean your face up. I'm sure you can manage."
Bewildered still, Grace jumped to it. She wasn't really practised at listening and following orders. Living at Piney's just meant 3 basic things - do what you want (within reason), keep the house clean and keep food in the fridge and liqour in the cupboard.
Once the Queen of the Sons returned to slicing, Grace hesitantly walked to the counter and slowly reached upwards to remove the kit from the confines of the cupboard – her face remaining guarded in spite of the muscular inferno encased by her leggings.
Without event, Grace proceeded to the bathroom past 3 shut doors, one with the remnants of a 'keep out' sticker tarnishing the painted wood; she assumed that belonged to Jax, who at the age of 18 was close to moving out and into the clubhouse, a permanent pussy haven, which of course she wasn't supposed to know this but the whole town was aware.
With a firm shove the bathroom door clicked shut and Grace let out a sigh as she bolted it and her fascade swept from her face.
With her momentary lapse of strength quickly rectified, Grace pushed all her thoughts away and focused soley on the simple task which layed in front of her. She let out a hiss as a cold wash cloth she had dampned met with the smarting flesh but continued to soldier on. After applying salve and consiquently dealing with the increase in pain due to the contact, Grace brought her attention to her face.
She chuckled. As she stared into her own reflection she understood she was a sight for sore eyes. She looked like a train wreck. Blood had crusted into her eyebrow and her lip had swollen siginificantly giving her the aura of a thug.
But soon enough Grace and removed all the residual blood adorning her face and aided by cold water, had brought her lip's swelling down a little. Grace then put her hands through her hair a little trying combat what the wind had done to it on the ride to Clay's house.
Looking as respectable as she could, given what tools she had at her disposal, Grace exited the haven of the bathroom to find Gemma.
Still where she was standing 20 minutes ago, Gemma was now drinking a cup of coffee whilst gazing out of the window at some riviting shubbery. To obtain the matriarch's attention Grace cleared her throat. Immediately Gemma's focus was brought to the girl standing in front of her. After a short moment of silence, Gemma spoke, "That looks nasty." Gemma gestured to the swollen lip and busted brow. Grace smiled an awkward smile and was just about to reply until Clay walked in.
"That ain't the worst of it, is it girl?" He turned to face Grace, with the usual eyebrow raised. Both Mr Morrow and wife stared at Grace, a questioning look on their faces.
What seemed like centuries past and still Grace remained silent. Despritely wanting to avoid talking about what she had dubbed 'the incedient' in her head she refused to give details: "No it's not the worst of it." In order to escape the tension Grace went back to her safe house - the bathroom, locking the door behind her and leaving a trail of confusion and intrigue behind her.
"What are you on about, Clay?" Gemma demanded, hating the fact that the truth was being hidden from her. "What does 'that ain't the worst of it' mean?" Clay shrugged grabbing a beer from the refrigerator door.
"Gemma, baby, it's probably better you ask her directly." He reached over and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and then added, "To be honest she probably needs a hand in there." He gestured with his now opened beer to the bathroom door. "Someone needs to take a look at it and it's not exactly appropriate for me to do it."
"Okay, babe." Gemma agreed making a move towards the bathroom, whilst Clay gave her a quick slap to the ass to help her on her way.
Gemma walked down the hall and stopped outside the bathroom door, taking a deep breath then gently knocking on the door as not to startle the girl. "Gracie, baby, it's Gemma honey, let me in." Gemma spoke gently but with no opportunity for disobedience in her tone. She heard the door unlock but it remain closed, so she pushed lightly on the door, stepped inside and then locked the door behind her.
The sight she was met with shocked her, Grace was stood next to the bath, head hung low in her t-shirt and panties, her leggings long forgotten lay discarded on the floor. "Gem…" Grace for once was lost for words.
"It's okay baby, just show me." Gemma spoke calmly with a gentle but firm tone. So Grace turned slowly to show the matriarch the collection of welts which spread from lower back to upper thighs. The sight which met Gemma's eyes shocked her greatly and she struggled to supress a gasp as she trailed her eyes over the red, angry bands at the top of her thighs. What shocked her even more was the thin banded blood stains on Grace's panties. "Grace," Gemma almost whispered, "honey, I'm gonna need to see all of it, they drew blood baby, I need to take a look so we can get sorted." Gemma spoke slowly and calmly, controlling her emotions and her shock.
Grace complied, pulling her underwear down to her knees flinching as the cotton rubbed the raised welts. She was glad Gemma couldn't see the amount of times she winced as she took her panties down and attempted to keep up a front; "Gemma, it's fine, it'll heal," she quietened her voice, "I deserved it anyways, was askin' for it." And with that she righted her underwear and moved past a confused Gemma, to put her leggings back on. Grace then raked her fingers through her hair, placing it back into a practical pony tail. As quick as it had been revealed her emotions were back in check, the mask reinstated.
Gemma caught her arm as Grace was about to exited the bathroom and entered back into the kitchen, "Not so fast baby girl." Gemma was back in control, the initial shock from the remnants of the girl's beating cleared. "You're gonna tell me what you did and who you pissed off to earn a beating like that," she paused considering her next move, "then you're gonna let Chibs take a look at that."
Grace immediately began to protest "Gemma, no." when she saw that outright refusal wasn't helping her cause she changed tack and started to grovel a little, "Gem, please, it'll heal fine by itself Chibs doesn't need to take a look at it, there's nothing wrong with it."
Gemma chuckled, "Seriously girl, you were beaten till you bled. I would have taken you to St Thomas but I don't want to bring any more heat on the club, we have a bad enough reputation as it is let alone adding child abusers to the list." Gemma continued glad that the girl was rational enough to appreciate when she had been beat quite literally in this case Gemma though wryly. "Therefore I want chibs to take a look, make sure there ain't gonna be no permeant damage, make sure you'll heal properly. Okay?"
Grace conceded there was nothing else she could do, being the rational and logical girl she was she couldn't deny Gemma's rationale. Although, she tended to brush matters concerning her own health under the carpet, preferring to repeat the mantra 'you'll be fine, get over it', Grace couldn't ignore the pain she was still in nor the sight the stripes across her ass.
Gemma went about making Grace and her a drink. She made herself another coffee but decided that Grace, with her eyes glazed over probably needed something stronger to remedy her frayed nerves. "I'll be back in a sec baby." She spoke softly to Grace who showed no other sign to acknowledgement other than a slight nod.
Gemma then continued down the hall to Clay's office knocking three times lightly before asking; "Clay, honey, can I come in?"
She was met with a reply instantly, "Sure baby." And thus with his permission she entered and set about telling her husband what she had seen in the bathroom. She thought it best to leave out details so merely commented, "Clay, it was really bad," still unawares as to who had punished the club's baby girl she said, "whoever it was, they drew blood, honey." At this point Clay looked up surprised, he knew it had been a hard and thorough beating after all he was present when it was metered out, but he hadn't thought it had been that bad, after all the girl barely made a sound throughout.
Gemma's voice brought him out of his musings, "I was just about to get her to tell me what happened." She reached forward to grab the decanter which was filled with a golden amber liquor.
"Whatcha doin' with my brandy, woman?" Clay asked ask Gemma plucked a tumbler from the tray.
"She's gonna need something to settle her nerves a bit, Clay." She explained, he nodded in response.
"Are you gonna come out and listen to her version of events?" Gemma asked, a subtle suggestion that he should in her tone.
Clay looked up at his wife, "I guess I should, I'll make sure she don't leave none of it out." He sighed as he raised himself out of his office chair, taking the bottle of brandy from Gemma, leaving her with the glass and walked out into the kitchen where they found Grace studying photos of Jax and Opie as boys.
Clay poured her a small glass of brandy, set it in front of her and instructed her to drink it. Once she began nursing the glass, Clay sat in his customary seat at the head of the table and Gemma settled alongside him whilst Grace remained stood. After a moment of silence, Gemma looked to Clay who merely nodded, before meeting Grace's gaze, "Spill."