Chapter 13:

This follows Chapter 30 of "The End of the Beginning"-Tig's just left Aisha at the clubhouse.

Aisha spent the afternoon and evening trying to clean out the room as she'd been instructed. The fact that she didn't know where anything was and wasn't supposed to talk to anyone made things a fair amount harder than they had to be, but after they all left in the evening she started making reasonable progress, even venturing out of the room to look for supplies and something to eat. She wasn't sure what she should touch and what she shouldn't, and the clubhouse was so much bigger than the apartment that she found herself scared. Someone had left the TV going, and the rise in volume when commercials came on was making her jump.

Pretty soon, though, she felt like she was back into the ryhthm of things and the room was starting to look halfway decent. Glancing at the bed, she wondered absently where he kept the clean sheets, then stopped. This is where he sleeps every night, she thought. She could count the times she'd been able to sleep next to him on one hand... other than that time he'd broken her ribs, he always left, either when he was done with her or while she was sleeping. There were times she'd fought to keep her eyes open, hoping that he might get tired enough to lay down with her, but he'd just laughed at her and told her not to watch him like that. This was where he went, though, when he left. He came here. He'd been here as recently as the night before, when she was waiting for him in the apartment.

Keeping one careful eye on the door, and listening for any noise, she sat down nervously on the edge of the bed and touched one of the pillows, then lay her cheek against it reverently. The part of it that she didn't want to think about kept coming back to her—this was where he brought other women—but in the end, the need to feel close to him won out, and looking as though she was terrified of being caught, Aisha slipped under the covers and closed her eyes, lost in his scent on the pillows and thoughts of him here without her.

-0- The next part follows "End of The Beginning" Chapter 31; after the fight has been raided and the Sons brought in for questioning.

Stahl walked back into the room with a thick file in her hand. She smiled at Tig with a raised eyebrow, seeming extremely pleased with herself. "We've cut everyone else loose," she said conversationally. "Just wanted to go over a few last things with you... about your girlfriend."

Tig snorted. "Afraid I don't have one of those, sorry."

Stahl gave him a look of innocent surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry—old lady?" She shook her head again. "No, that isn't right either, is it? Hmmmm... should we call her your little girl?" She turned her full smile onto him, then suddenly was all business, dropping a photograph on the table between them. Tig didn't pick it up, or even look at it, but kept his eyes on hers, smiling pleasantly. They each held the others' gaze for a moment, and then Stahl looked away uncomfortably. She sat down across from him.

"Aisha Jaiden Lang, 19 years old." she said in a preoccupied tone, leafing through her file. "Our records have her last attending school up north five years ago, never came back after her mother's murder." She glanced up at Tig. "Really ugly scene, the mother was beaten to death and her pimp shot. Kid missing. CPS took a look, but didn't find anything. Maybe someone was taking care of her." She smiled at him again. "In any case, she seems to have resurfaced recently as a hanger-on of the Sons of Anarchy." She shook her head. "Not the sort of world you'd like to see a kid like that involved in, but I guess it was what she knew."

She laid another photo on top of the first, the one she'd shown V—Aisha staring up at him in the parking lot of her building. The photo had caught her face as she looked up at him, and he couldn't keep himself from taking a look, curious how it looked to someone on the outside. The absolute candor of her expression startled him. He knew how she felt about him, but seeing it here, captured with a camera, especially sitting in a room with this duplicitous bitch, it was like looking at it with entirely new eyes.

Stahl leaned forward with a soft, conspiratorial tone. "How long have you been sleeping with her, Mr. Trager?"

Tig dropped the photo and gave the ATF agent his most insinuating smile. "You're not gonna ask me to remember something like that," he said. "Lot of girls around the clubhouse. If I go back for seconds, I don't always remember being there the first time."

Stahl smiled at him. "She's different though," she said. "Isn't she? Doesn't seem like your usual taste. And she was living with you for a while, wasn't she? It looks like you went back for more than seconds."

He shrugged, then looked away, giving the impression that the subject didn't interest him anymore. "This what you do now? Round us up and ask us about our sex lives? Hey, I can think of worse jobs."

Stahl opened the folder and took out a third photo, but looked at it, not placing it with the other two. "Seen this?" she asked. "This is her mother. Amber. Died of blunt force trauma to the head and face. From the looks of it, it took awhile." She looked up. "The coloring's different, but little Aisha looks just like her mom. Not that you can tell it from these."

Bullshit, thought Tig. Amber and Aisha were night and day. I should know. Outwardly, though, he kept smiling, taking a polite look at the photograph as though Stahl were showing off pictures of her grandkids. "That's a sad story," he said. "Mind cutting me loose now?"

She didn't seem to hear him. "Interesting thing about this case," she said. "County sheriff's office never closed it. Seems there was someone there besides the whore and her pimp, Mr. Trager." She looked up at him. "I guess he didn't like being interrupted. Looks like after shooting the pimp, he went back to work on her. Ugly, ugly scene."

He was silent, maintaining just the slight edge of a bored look on his face.

"Your little girl had a rough time of it, Mr. Trager. "

He smiled. "Everyone's got a story."

She looked up at him again, sweeping up the three photos. "Of course," she said, "sheriff's office didn't really have much manpower to put behind it. The kind of murder that happens every day among people like that." She shrugged. "Although now, with the girl back on the radar," she met his eyes and stopped smiling, "it might be time to take another look." With exaggerated politeness, she gestured to the door. "You can go now, Mr. Trager. Let us know if you hear from your friend."

-0-

Tig strode out to his bike in something very close to a rage. Stahl had reminded him of a lot of things he didn't like the think about, and then followed it up with an implied threat about opening up what had happened back there all those years ago. On the ride back, he tried to piece things together. There were a few things that weren't right about her story.

When he arrived, the clubhouse was loud. While not strictly a party, the guys were tense enough about having been questioned, and relieved enough at being let go so quickly, that there was some spur-of-the-moment drinking going on and a few of the girls who'd been at the fight were hanging out in the main room and around the pool table. As he scanned the room, Tig saw Bobby rolling a joint for a tall blonde in red lipstick whose frizzy hair rivalled his. At the sight of him, something clicked in Tig's mind, something Stahl had shown him. He narrowed his eyes, and strode across the room, grabbing Bobby by the front of the shirt and pulling him into a corner, to the shocked eyes of the girls and the baffled looks of his brothers.

"What the hell, man?" Bobby asked. "What took you? We've all been back for-"

"You were supposed to clean it up," Tig said. "You and the prospect. Remember? How the fuck was there anything there for that bitch to have pictures of?"

Bobby looked confusedly towards Half-Sack, and Tig shook his head, gesturing to Juice, who was looking at them quizzically from across the room. "That one," he said. "That stupid fuck, back when he was trying to patch in. The two of you were supposed to ride up to Humboldt and get rid of a couple of bodies and a gun. Remember that, Bobby?"

The horrified look on Bobby's face told him all he needed to know.

"Shit, you never did," he said. "What was it? Cops already there?"

Bobby looked sick. "Almost. They showed up right after we did."

Tig let go of him, disgusted.

"Hey, we didn't think it would amount to anything!" Bobby said. "You saw what it looked like! He beat her up, somebody shot him, you took the gun with you, so what was there to connect you with it? Looked like a robbery, somethin'..."

Tig turned back to him, his voice flat and his eyes cold. "What did you say? I took the gun with me?"

"There wasn't a gun there, man. It was the first thing we looked for! We did what we could to clean it up, got rid of prints... where are you going?"

Tig had turned his back and walked away, heading for his room. One of the Crow Eaters, a dark-haired girl that he could vaguely recall having been with before, moved into his path. "Hey there," she said.

"Hey," he responded cheerfully. "How about you get the fuck out of my way?" He didn't even pause to see her face fall as he walked straight past her.

At first he didn't see Aisha, and he was too angry to notice the careful job she'd done with his things. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw her, wearing one of his shirts and curled up in her customary sleeping position, looking as though she were trying to protect herself, in the center of his bed. Her arms were wrapped around one of his pillows, and her cheeks were flushed.

He sat on the edge of the bed, thinking for a moment that he should really just climb in next to her and get some sleep. Another part of him wanted strongly to push her onto her stomach, cover her mouth with one hand, and fuck her before she had time to wake up. Still another part of him didn't even want to touch her.

He'd never really thought about that night up there, or connected that fucked up junkie whore with his Aisha. Now, Stahl's words rang in his ears. She was that bitch's kid. She was living in the Sons clubhouse now, because it was what she knew. He might go down for... God, he didn't even want to think how long... because he'd decided to bring this thing home with him.

She tossed her head in her sleep, almost as though she could feel his eyes on her. He thought about going to Clay and explaining the whole thing, telling him that now Stahl was looking into ancient history. He knew what Clay would say. Hell, he knew what he would have said. He looked down at her, wondering if he could do it himself and realizing that she probably wouldn't even fight him if he said it was the way things had to be. He continued staring down at her, lost in the thought of the different ways he could kill Aisha. He'd want to see her eyes when it happened... suddenly he realized that he'd run his fingers down her cheek, the way he only did when she was sleeping and couldn't see.

Furious, he jumped up. Fuck, he thought. He knew he should talk to Clay about this, and soon. So why the fuck couldn't he make himself do it?

He stormed back outside, over to the dark-haired Crow Eater, who was giggling into Juice's face. He remembered her now. Her dark curls and full mouth had been the things that attracted him to her. She'd do. Without any preamble, he grabbed her wrist and jerked his head for her to follow. She looked up at him with a playful pout, which became a look of nervousness as he jerked her towards the room. At the door he stopped, putting one finger on her lips. "Wait here a second," he said.

With one fist in Aisha's hair, he dragged her out of his bed and out of the door of his room, throwing her into the hall. He could tell she wasn't even sure what was happening as he pulled the Crow Eater into the room with him and slammed the door, leaving Aisha in the hallway.