"I really don't get it." June Stahl wondered out loud before letting the picture of Tara Knowles fall to her desk.
Or That, she thought as her eyes settled on the mug shot of a red headed sixteen year old.
Claire Stanton's life was so clichéd it was almost boring. She was born to wealthy parents. Her mother came from old money and her father, a DA in San Quentin, from new. She grew into a rebellious teenager with a rap sheet freckled with misdemeanors and a few arson charges that her father was able to keep under the rug. That was, until the time she lit up the family home, killing her older sister. Claire pled guilty to all charges and spent two years in a Juvenile facility before being shipped off to the women's prison.
After her conviction, she turned into a model prisoner. She got her GED, participated in the work program, and took some business classes. One of the visiting professors serving the prison population had written her a glowing letter of recommendation for the parole board. She was released early for good behavior, came home to Charming a changed woman and started a small business.
Then, less than a month ago, she suddenly became involved with Samcro. And no one seems to know why. If June was a betting woman, which she was, she would put money on the redhead talking. Sure, the other three girls might be scared enough to spill, but Claire Stanton was smart enough.
Fear cuts deeper tan swords, Arya Stark reminded herself as Claire nibbled on a stale cookie, engrossed in the child's escapades.
It was a quiet day in Charming. Claire had ambled back to her apartment from the clubhouse early in the morning after spending the night with Tig. Abby would be coming in shortly to mind the shop, her time was her own.
"Those will go right to your hips, you know," commented a voice that Claire didn't recognize.
She raised an eyebrow and peered over the top of her book. Standing at the foot of the stairs was a well put together blond wearing a sharp business suit.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
The woman looking up at her smirked. "Are you Claire Stanton?"
"I am," Claire answered wearily.
The woman planted her hands on her hips, brushing aside her suit jacket and flashing Claire her badge. "I'm going to need you to come with me," she ordered.
A quick shiver of fear shot up Claire's spine. It was all she could do to not look at the spot on the floor where mere weeks ago, she'd dropped a body. There was no way she could know, Claire thought, There was no way anyone could know.
"May I ask why?" Claire asked; cursing herself as her voice raised an octave on the last word.
"Suspicion of parole violation. It's strictly routine. We just need to ask a few questions, get you to pee in a cup. It shouldn't hurt." The woman grinned, "Much."
Routine my ass. This had to be the ATF woman she'd heard so much about. Federal agents didn't usually spend their time looking into parole violations. What was she after?
"If you don't come willingly, we will have to create a scene," the woman reminded her. "And I'm guessing that won't be good for business."
Claire sighed, imagining the gossip that would generate, and threw her book into her bag before ambling down the steps after the fed.
"Got Luanne on drug charges, Cherry on theft and arson, and Abby says Claire got hauled in for questioning, but no one knows why." Clay recapped.
"That don't make sense," Half-Sack murmured.
"Stahl's trying to use RICO against the club," Unser explained. "If she can prove her case? She can take you all down."
"And if we go down?"
"Why do you think I'm sitting at the god damned table Scotty."
"We got anything to be worried about with the Doc?" Clay asked Jax. "She's seen a lot of shit over the past few weeks."
"Little Miss Tara's the one who got ATF here in the first place," Tig quipped.
"You got nothing to worry about with Tara," Jax rebutted. "I trust her. Can you say the same thing for Claire? She's seen and done worse."
"Yeah, done," Tig emphasized. "She's not going to give anything up, because it would bring her down right with us. Plus, anything she's done is well hidden."
"Then why the fuck has she been brought in for questioning?" Bobby interjected.
"You are aware of the terms of your parole?" Agent Stahl asked as Claire was escorted back into the interview room.
Claire nodded and put the cup of urine on the table before sitting down. If for whatever reason that roofie popped up on the drug scan, she was going to kill Juice.
"So," Agent Stahl began, "have you been involved in any illegal activity since your release from state custody?"
One of her hands came up to rub at her throat before she caught herself. Claire took a breath and stacked her hands one on top of the other in front of her. Killing the man who'd come after her was the right thing to do. Telling the authorities about it was the wrong thing. It would bring no one anything but hurt.
"No," she finally answered.
Stahl ticked something off in a file in front of her before glancing up at Claire and continuing. "Are you aware of any illegal activity committed by any members of the Sons of Anarchy?"
"No," Claire answered immediately. Tig had explained the rules to her. If anyone asked, you didn't know anything.
"If you do know about something, even something small that you might think is insignificant, it would work in your favor to tell us now."
"I really don't know anything," Claire persisted.
Agent Stahl smiled. It was a knowing, sarcastic smile. "See, that's what I find hard to believe." She opened another manila folder sitting on the table and pulled out a photograph to show Claire.
It was Claire standing in the parking lot at the clubhouse talking with Tig. Judging by her clothes it was two days ago.
"You spend a lot of time over there," the agent commented. "Anything you remember seeing? We hear a lot of whispers about these guys. Drugs, guns, violence. Anything ring a bell?"
"No," Claire repeated.
Agent Stahl cocked her head to the left and stared at Claire for a moment.
"Look Claire, I know you were released early for good behavior. You seem, for the most part, like a stand up citizen. Tell me anything you know right now, and I promise you I will do everything I can to keep you from serving the rest of your sentence. If you don't, the smallest thing you think of could be enough to send you back inside. It's hard enough to put your life back together after incarceration, I'd hate to try and see you do it a second time."
Claire thought about it. About what it would be like to have to go back to prison. It would be hard to keep her business going, but she had people that could look after things. As for doing the time?
"I'm not scared of going back to prison," Claire answered with certainty. "And if you have any more questions, I'd prefer to answer them with an attorney present."
Stahl put the picture back in the file, but left the folder open. "We thought you might want to lawyer up," Stahl admitted, "so we've already given your representation a call. He should be here soon."
Claire's brow furrowed in confusion. She had been planning on asking for a public defender. They could only hold her for forty eight hours without charging her, requesting an attorney be appointed would eat up some of that time.
"I don't understand," she admitted, "I don't have a lawyer."
"Don't you?" Stahl asked looking down at the file again. "A Mr. George Stanton? He represented you in juvenile court," she continued.
"Those files are sealed," Claire protested.
The agent grinned."I'm sure you'll find Ms. Stanton, that nothing stays buried."
She stood and gathered her things. "Something you should keep in mind if you plan to continue your association with Samcro." She walked over to the door and held it open, "say 'hi' to dad for me."
Claire watched the door as it shut behind the fed. The sound of the latch catching echoed in the room. It was so quiet in there. For the first time all morning Claire found that she had some time to herself. Some time to think. What on the fuck was going on?
Did she even know about anything that they could catch her on? Aside from the dead body, all she'd witnessed at the club house was some drug use. If they were trying to get anyone on drug charges, they could just pull the guys in on some bullshit like this and administer drug tests.
There was that man that had been shot though, from last week. With all that had been going on, she'd almost forgot about that. Could be something to do with him? She never even saw the man's face. If that was brought up, she could easily deny it.
Christ, she thought, How on earth did I get here?
And then the door opened again and she remembered.
She looked up to find her father staring there, wearing a suit and carrying a beaten up briefcase. It was the same one he used to bring when she'd get hauled in for shit things when she was a kid. Her mom had been begging him to get a new one for years, but he always refused.
"Dad," she greeted him. She didn't quite know what to do, so she awkwardly stayed sitting at the table and stared at her hands. She looked back up at him and couldn't help but experience a case of déjà vu.
He returned her gaze with a mixed expression; part disappointment and part acceptance.
"They didn't even tell me what you've been brought in for this time," he finally spoke before walking over and taking the seat opposite her.
"Questioning," she admitted after a pause. "About what, they haven't told me."
"Claire, I have to advise you as your attorney, that if you have been involved in any criminal activity to tell me about it now."
"I haven't done anything wrong," she told him. "I told you, I have no idea why they brought me in here," she lifted her hands gesturing to the room they were in.
It was all so familiar. She couldn't help but feel fourteen years old again. Only, she wasn't that person anymore. She wasn't a little girl anymore, wandering around the world, making up her own rules.
Her father interrupted her thoughts with a blunt question. "Do you want to go back to prison Claire?"
She knew that on some level, she deserved his disbelief, but it still hurt.
"Dad, I'm not involved in anything," she pleaded. "I've been seeing one of the guys over at Samcro, and they've probably just brought me in because of that."
There was a long pause as her father ran his hands through his hair. "If you continue to make these decisions and associate with those people, you're going to bring yourself nothing but trouble. Even if you've done nothing wrong."
Claire nodded, tears misting behind her eyes. "I know, but I can't go down any other road."
She wrung her hands searching for words. Finally she looked back up at him. "I'm not like you and mom, dad. I was never made for that world. I know I made some bad decisions when I was younger, but that was just because I was struggling so much to live life the way I wanted to with the rules I was given. I can't go back to that. Please don't ask me to. It would kill me."
Her father sighed. "Your mother's been worried about you. Ever since we got those pictures."
Claire nodded. "You don't have to worry about those anymore, it's been handled."
He looked at her cautiously. "How?"
Claire paused. "I haven't done anything wrong," she told him again
Another federal agent cracked open the door to the interrogation room, preventing Claire from saying anything else.
"Agent Stahl would like to speak with Ms. Stanton," he told them.
Before she could even think of a response, her father addressed the flunky. "You can tell Agent Stahl that unless he's questioning my client in regards to a specific incident, she's to be released from custody immediately. If she's held any longer than necessary, the San Quentin DAs office will be filling a formal complaint against her."
He turned back to Claire after the door had been shut again. "You are my daughter," he paused. "The only one I have left. If you ever need help, I'll be here."
He bent down to pick up his briefcase. "Now, I have to go get some of this paperwork settled away. Someone should be in to let you go soon."
It was well past dark by the time Claire's paperwork was processed and she was able to get back to her apartment. She was tired and was looking forward to having the rest of the evening herself before turning on her Goodwill radio and heading for sleep
She was halfway up the flight of steps behind the bakery when a work van pulled into the alley and Jax ambled out of the driver's seat.
"How are you?" he asked her. "We've been trying to get info on you all day."
Claire rolled her eyes and hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder. "Federal custody, that's where the fuck I've been," she answered in an exasperated tone.
"Yeah, we know. What did they bring you in on?" he asked her.
Claire shrugged. "Suspicion of parole violation," she told him. "I have no idea why. They ran a drug test, questioned me about the club, and then let me go." She paused and considered Jax' earlier tone. "Do you know why this happened?" she asked him.
Jax rubbed his chin and nodded. "Yeah, the Feds went after all the women today. Tried to press them for information. Anything that could be used against the club."
Claire heart skipped a beat as she looked at Jax. "I didn't tell them anything," she stressed.
Jax nodded. "I know. If you did, they wouldn't have let you go. But that's not why we're here. We need a favor."
Claire raised an eyebrow as Jax nodded over to the passenger side of the van. Claire had to squint to see through the smudged glass, but it looked like it was the chief of police sitting there.
There was a creak as the back doors to the van opened, and after a clicking of heels, Cherry walked into view. She rushed past Claire and took her apartment keys.
"Abby's going to meet you here is a couple minutes," Jax continued, "and you're both going to give that one a ride up to the cabin. Abby knows where it is."
Confusion flew through around in Claire's head. "What? Why?" She turned around to see Cherry open her apartment door and walk in. "What's going on Jax?"
"I don't have time to explain," he answered walking back to the van. "She'll tell you everything if the two of you don't burn the building down first."
Claire watched, stupefied, as the van backed out of the alley and drove off.
Looking for answers she turned around and walked the remaining steps up into her apartment.
Cherry was sitting on Claire's sofa, quietly rocking back and forth. "What the hell is going on?" Claire asked her.
Cherry looked up at her with a face full of guilt. "They broke me out of the police station," she admitted.
Claire's eyebrows shot up into her hairline and she reached behind her, firmly shutting the outside door.
"Shit, Cherry," she exclaimed in a hushed tone. "What the hell for?"
Cherry bounced up and started pacing. "There are warrants out for me in Nevada," she admitted. "For arson and for attempted murder. That ATF bitch threatened me with extradition and hard time."
Claire leaned against the shut door and put the pieces together.
"I can't go to prison," Cherry rambled on. "I'm not like you Claire. I'm not strong enough to wait this kind of thing out."
Claire nodded, wanting to give her friend more credit than she was giving herself, but she knew in her heart that Cherry was right. She would crack into pieces on the inside. She'd tell them everything, and she'd seen a lot.
Cherry stood there ringing her hands, waiting for Claire to say something. Anything.
Claire pushed away from the door and placed her hands gently on Cherry's shoulders. "Everyone's taking a big risk for you, you know that right?"
Cherry nodded, fighting back tears. "I know. And thank you." She grabbed onto Claire and the two women held each other fiercely.
"So don't fuck it up," Claire mumbled into Cherry's shoulder. "It's your turn for a new start now. Make it count."
A loud honk sounded out from the alley. "That's Abbey's car," Claire announced as she pulled away from Cherry, "we better get going."
Claire spent the rest of the night and early morning at a cabin in the woods drinking beers with Cherry and the wounded Irishman as they waited for the others to show up. She saw his face this time, but never learnt his name.
Shortly after dawn, a convoy formed to take the wanted man and woman up through Canada. Where they went from there, Claire had no idea.
After the truck and the bikes drove off, Gemma introduced Claire to Tara Knowles; a local doctor and what was shaping up to be Jax's old lady.
That was they day that Claire learned that while some friends could never stay in your life forever; there would always be another soul ready to take their place.