Author's Note: Hello again... miss me? Here's chapter 6... still a slow burn... I think there's one more chapter of "build" before things really get going. I don't wanna have them jump into anything, y'know? So, I appreciate you hanging in there with me. Thank you, as always, to those that have favorited, followed, reviewed... It means a lot and does help inspire to know that people are still reading and enjoying this. Especially big thank yous and hugs to Valerie E. Mackin, mrsreedus69, OnTheWildside for reviewing. You girls ruleeeeeee! Alright, enough of my babbling. Onto the story...

Disclaimer: I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Basic Space' belongs to The xx. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby.

'I'll take you in pieces, we can take it all apart… I've suffered shipwrecks right from the start… I've been underwater, breathing out and in… I think I'm losing where you end and I begin...'

"Fuckin' piece of shit," Opie growled, hitting his wrench against the tank of the bike.

"I'm sure Shelby will be thrilled that you left scratches on her piece."

He lifted his head to see Tig in the doorway of the garage, lifting a chipped mug of coffee to his mouth. "Fuck you, Tig," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet and shoving the tool in his belt. "Looks like she hasn't been maintaining this thing."

The older man drained what was left of his cup, setting it on a shelf beside him before approaching, wiping his hands on his thighs. He glanced over the machine and grimaced. "This is why you don't give bitches bikes," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair before crouching to look a little closer.

Opie scowled at his brother's assessment and dismissal of Shelby, but he bit his tongue. If they had been discussing anyone else, he probably would have voiced his agreement. Her fuel lines were clogged with shit beyond any sort of repair and would need to be replaced and he was disappointed that she had let such a nice ride go the way she did.

But that didn't mean he liked Tig being so disrespectful towards Shelby. Especially when he didn't know her. "Any way to get around replacement, y'think?" he finally asked as the man stood to his full height.

The older man shot him a look. "What do you think?" he replied.

Opie sighed. "Thought as much." He pulled a rag out of his back pocket and started wiping the grease off his hands. "What are you doing here so early, anyway? You're not on the schedule til this afternoon, right?"

Tig internally grimaced at the question, though he'd known it was going to come up. While it wasn't impossible for him to force himself into the sunshine and roll into the shop when he wasn't on the schedule, it was a rarity. Especially on a Saturday. Opie was more than aware of his habits, especially since they tended to be on similar pieces. He'd held out hope that the younger man would have started back to work the next day, but he should've known better. "Had the same idea as you, thought I'd take a closer look at the bike. Figured I'd have the time."

The younger biker raised an eyebrow, picking up the wrench. "Told you I'd take care of it," he replied, tossing the rag to the side. "Your mind goin', old man?"

Tig scowled at the teasing. "Ain't old, brother, just seasoned," he retorted. His eyes moved over the bike one last time before he shrugged. "Well, if you got it taken care of, I'm gonna go have a beer. Maybe a shot."

Opie let out a snort. "Alcohol and coffee, breakfast of champions," he quipped.

The darker man gave him a mock salute before tucking his hand into his pocket and making his way across the lot towards the clubhouse.

Opie watched him go, absently twisting the wrench between his palms. He couldn't help the worry that was gnawing in the back of his mind. Tig never offered to take on specific pieces and he sure as hell didn't take the time to look at anything he wasn't assigned. Whatever was in front of him, that was the vehicle he worked with. He rarely associated with the actual customers and if he couldn't avoid, he was everything but civil. The fact that the older man was so interested in Shelby's bike, enough to even know it was hers… it made him really uneasy and even more concerned for his sister-in-law.

He gave his head a shake. He was overthinking it. There was really no reason for Tig to be overly interested in Shelby. He must've just been interested in the piece. He let out a sigh before crouching down to see if he could manage to salvage anything on the bike.

Tig shoved his way into the clubhouse, rubbing a hand over his face before letting his eyes adjust to the dimly lit room. He hadn't been kidding, he needed a fuckin' drink if he was going to manage to get through this day if Opie was going to be hovering.

"Tig."

He glanced over his shoulder at Juice's voice as he reached over the bar to grab a bottle of liquor. "Not now, Juicy," he muttered, twisting off the top and taking a swallow.

The Puerto Rican rolled his eyes as he hopped on a stool beside the older man. "You're getting too old for these late nights," he replied, a grin pulling at his mouth. "Little hair of the dog going to help?"

Tig scowled, leaning his back against the bar, his elbows resting on either side of him. "There a reason you're bothering me this early?"

Juice shrugged, pulling his leg up under him. "Professional curiosity. Wondering how the information I pulled for you is working out."

The scowl deepened at the younger man's question. His phone call to Cherry had been an absolute wash. Based on her quick answers and brush offs it had been clear she knew something, but he only had so many resources that he could use to make her talk. Since he was trying to keep his 'research' on the low, it wasn't like he could make too many weighted threats. He had thrown Sack's name around more than necessary, but she still hadn't taken the bait. Most likely because she knew he didn't have the means to back himself up in his current situation. "None of your concern, man," he replied, knocking the bottle against his hip.

Juice rolled his eyes. "None of my concern til you need me to look up something, right?"

Tig took another swallow of liquor before setting the bottle back on the bar. "You feelin' used, brother?"

He received an eyeroll in response. "I mean, it wouldn't kill you to show your appreciation, would it?"

"Appreciation?" Tig scoffed and settled the bottle of liquor on the bar before he grabbed his crotch. "That offer to let me dip my balls in your mouth is always open. Maybe that'll help, take the edge off for us both."

Juice scowled and hopped off the stool. "Screw you, brother, why do you do that shit?" He didn't wait for a response before stalking back to his dorm.

The darker man chuckled, adjusting himself before taking another swig. Sometimes these guys were just too fucking easy.

"Opie."

He glanced up from the bike to see Gemma walking toward him, a paper in her hand. "What's up, Gem?" he asked quietly, pushing himself to his feet. He noticed she looked hesitant, maybe even apprehensive, which were two things that Gemma Teller-Morrow didn't often convey. "What's wrong?"

She reached up, pulling her glasses off her nose. "What's going on with Shelby?" she asked gently.

His brow furrowed at the unexpected question. "What do you mean?" he asked, settling his wrench to the side.

Gemma regarded him carefully, her eyes on his face, concern obvious in her expression. "I mean, you've been spending a lot of time with her, baby," she explained.

Opie shook his head, scratching his neck. "I'm not Jax, Gemma," he reminded her. "I don't need you to take care of me."

She chuckled. "You've been through a hell of a lot and that makes people make mistakes," she continued, leaning her hip against the shelving behind her. "And I don't want to see that for you. You may not be my son, but I love you enough to not want to see you get hurt. Just like I love all my boys."

He scoffed. "I do appreciate you looking out for me, but it's not like that with Shelby," he assured her, snagging a rag from his back pocket and running it over the tank of the bike. "She's just… helping me through."

Gemma couldn't help the quiet snort that escaped. "She seems like she'd be good at that," she muttered.

Opie sighed. "How about you just tell me what you came out here to say?" he asked.

The older woman held out the paper to him. "See for yourself," she replied.

He shot her a confused look, his fingers closing on the document. He moved it to his eyeline, skimming it quickly, his brow furrowing with confusion. He glanced up at Gemma. "So, it's not hers?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"It's not her name on the title and it's listed as stolen," she replied. "So, I'd say no… and you know we can't work on stolen property. Really, you've probably done more than we really should." She gently patted his shoulder, pressing her lips to his temple. "Think it would be best to get the bike back to her and send her back where she came, don't you?" She didn't wait for a response before heading back to the office.

Opie frowned, his eyes moving over the paper at a slower speed, soaking up the information. She'd lied to him. But, she had to know he was going to find out, had to know they would run her information… she wasn't that stupid to think she could hide it. But why would she steal? What the hell was going on?

"Billy Mays here-"

"It's Jake from St-"

"On the next Days-"

Shelby let out a grunt, switching off the television and tossing the remote onto the coffee table. She was getting so restless and her bike had been gone less than a day. She was stuck on Amber's couch, mooching off the porn star until she could figure her next move. She hated this, hated depending on other people.

The brunette looked at her phone for what must have been the thousandth time. Still no call from TM. She grit her teeth, her fingers clenching around the hard plastic. She felt like a sitting duck without her bike. She didn't have any plans to move on, but she also didn't like not having the easy get away if she found she had no other choice.

Shelby glanced up at the sound of a quiet knock at the door, her brow furrowed in confusion. Most people Amber knew were in the business… they'd know she was on set. The girl felt a knot form in her stomach. Maybe they were there for her…

"Shelby? You in there?"

She let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Opie's voice. She shoved herself off the couch, moving to the door and pulling it open, a smile on her lips. "Yeah, hey… I didn't expect a personal visit."

He forced a smile in response. "Mind if I come in for a bit?"

The brunette glanced past him to see her bike on the back of the tow truck. "Sure… my ride's done that fast?" she asked, moving to the side to let him in.

Opie cleared his throat, stepping into the house, letting her close the door behind him. "Not quite," he replied quietly, shaking his head.

Shelby couldn't help but frown. "Op, what is it?" she asked, settling her hand on his bicep.

He glanced at her hand before lifting his head to meet her gaze. She felt her stomach drop at his expression. Oh, God… did he know…?

"Gemma ran your bike… we have to do that with every piece that comes in," he explained, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed tight over his chest. "Procedure, just to be sure everything's on the up, y'know?'

The brunette felt her stomach drop at the explanation and the look in his eye. "Okay… so?"

Opie furrowed his brow. "That's not your bike, is it?" he asked, his voice soft, but she could hear the frustration laced in his tone, the possible fury that was brewing.

Shelby swallowed. "I told you, it was a gift," she murmured, sinking onto the couch, her back against the arm.

He scowled, his eyes narrowed. "Then why was it reported stolen less than three days before you showed up in Charming? Reported by the same guy who has his name on the title?"

"Guess he didn't like that I wanted to take a trip out to Charming," she replied, shrugging her slender shoulders, her nails absently picking at a ball of lint on the couch. She lifted her gaze to meet Opie's. "I'm not a thief, Op, and I'm not dumb enough to let you find out something like that in such a way."

He regarded her carefully, trying to gauge if she was being honest with him. He wanted to believe her, didn't want to believe that she would be so careless. But her answers were too easy. He opened his mouth to argue but was cut off as his phone went off in his pocket.

Shelby watched as Opie lifted his phone to his ear. She chewed on her lower lip, her gaze focused, but her thoughts elsewhere. She could see he was struggling, trying to decide what to believe. She didn't want to lie to him. She'd thought she had more time before Bryant would have realized she was gone, time to get the bike fixed, settle back in so she'd have protection. She should have known better than to trust that sort of luck.

Opie pocketed his phone, wiping his palms on his denim clad thighs. "I have to get back to TM," he told her. "But I want us to talk later… you around tonight?"

Shelby shrugged. "I assume that the bike isn't taken care of, so I really have nowhere I can go," she replied, trying to keep her tone light. "So, if you're willing to come by, I should be available."

He moved across the room carefully, stopping in front of her to crouch down to eye level. "Are you in trouble?" he asked, his hands resting on her knees, his eyes searching her expression. "You don't have to give me any details, but I need to know if you need help."

Her jaw set as they stared at each other. Shelby wanted to tell him everything, but she wasn't ready… she probably wouldn't ever be ready. She didn't know how Opie would take it and she couldn't be the one to pile on him, not so soon after Donna… "I'm fine, Opie," she reassured him, resting a hand on his cheek and giving him a forced smile. "I promise you that everything is okay… it's just a misunderstanding."

He didn't believe her. His gut told him he couldn't believe what she was telling him. But he knew he couldn't force anything out of her. He let out a quiet sigh before leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. He pulled her into a hug, crushing her slight form to him. "Okay," he whispered, his face pressed to her hair. He slowly let go of her and moved to his full height. "I'll call you before I come pick you up… we'll get some dinner, okay?"

Shelby nodded. "Looking forward to it," she replied. They shared one last smile before he made his way out of the house.

Tig watched Opie drive off after moving the bike off the truck. He frowned behind his sunglasses, drumming his fingers on the handlebars of his Dyna, his eyes shifting over towards the house.

He hadn't been able to help his curiosity when he'd noticed the younger man loading the bike up, knowing there was no way that the piece had been finished, not with the damages to the extent they had been. That could only mean one of two things… either the man had given up hope of repair or he wasn't able to work on it due to whatever Gemma had pulled up on the vehicle. Due to Opie's fascination and ties to the girl, he could only assume the latter and why he had stayed in the house.

He hadn't intended to stay and wait. He'd only wanted to find out where the girl was staying, just in case he needed to keep an eye on her. But he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave, not right away.

Tig perked up as Shelby appeared in the doorway, slowly making her way down the sidewalk. She stopped beside the bike, her back to him. He noted the tension in her frame, the tightness in her fists as she curled her fingers into her palms. His eyebrow raised as a yell cut through the air and her foot slammed into the bike, making it topple to the side. She fell to the ground, her face cradled in her hands and even from his distance he could hear the angry sobs as they tore from her throat.

"What are you hiding, little girl?" he muttered, leaning forward on his bike, still watching intently. "What's gotcha so angry?"