A/N - Wow! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all, guys! I've been so sick over Christmas I've actually barely been able to look at a computer screen for more than about ten minutes so my huge apologies for not updating. This isn't too long a chapter, but I wanted to post it before New Year so you had SOMETHING to close 2014 out on, so I hope you enjoy and please please read and review! It's getting messy and you know it'll get worse before it gets better ;) Sara x
The silence that hung morbidly in the air seemed to last for an eternity. Natasha could feel Galen's fingernails digging into her through her jacket as he waited for an answer. It should have been easy, Chibs should have just said the club there and then but when he didn't, nobody in the room knew which way anything was about to fall.
"You need some time to think, old man?" Galen chuckled, waving his hand dismissively at Chibs. "Go get yourself a cup of coffee or something if you want, I think they kept the girl in the cafeteria alive. For now," he added with a smirk. "Take your friend here with you," he added, motioning to Jax. "My guys will be glad to escort you."
Jax had barely turned around before a heavy Irish hand clamped onto his shoulder, pressing the barrel of a gun into the small of his back. He looked at Galen, irritated by the level of distrust, before giving Chibs a more beseeching look. Chibs shook his head slowly, closing his eyes as he rubbed his hand over his lips and tugged at his beard.
"They have beer there?" he asked with a gentle, joking tone to Tara. She rolled her eyes, it was just like him to say something inappropriate like that in such an awkward situation. When a second Irish guard appeared, he tutted and pushed him away, flicking the finger at Galen as he did. "I don't need you damn babysitter, O'Shea, I need a few minutes with my club, that's all." He shoved past them as he walked into the hall. Jax was ushered out after him, with the two escorts behind, and Chibs felt his heels dragging as he tried to weigh up what the best play was.
"Prez." Jax jogged to catch up but Chibs turned around and swung at him furiously. His fist collided with Jax's nose, breaking it and sending a spatter of blood across the white linoleum floor. Jax barked as he held it to stem the bleeding, and Chibs gritted his teeth.
"You should have fucking told me about Lin," he demanded, grabbing Jax's cut and pulling him by the scruff of it up into his face. His eyes looked wild, the pressure crushing everything he had so carefully been trying to balance within himself. "It's all about you, isn't it, Jackieboy? It's all about what you're trying to achieve, all the time."
Jax spluttered as he tried to answer. "Don't, it's not," he insisted. "I meant to tell you, I just never got around to it, something always came up and-" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, he felt light-headed as he breathed in. "This isn't a game plan, Chibs, I swear."
Chibs wasn't sure what to believe any more. He looked back down the hall towards the room, he could see the two Irishmen walking just a few steps behind them. However much shooting the pair of them in the head might help in the short term, he was sure that Galen wouldn't let their advantage last for very long. "Seems a little convenient," he muttered bitterly, the whole situation making him realise his lack of control. "You in on some arrangement between Tig and Henry, you calling Galen here." He looked at the badge on his cut, the one that Jax had once worn with such pride, and he rubbed his thumb over it as he paced. "Do you really want this back so much?"
Jax had never wanted anything back more than that damn patch, but he shook his head. "You know I would never betray you, Chibs," he said, his voice even as he spoke. Chibs chuckled.
"But you did, didn't you? Before?" He laughed darkly. "Except, now your girl's in the balance too, and you wouldn't dare take that risk."
Jax could feel his throat closing at the threatening tone haunting Chibs' words. He pressed his lips closed before he opened his mouth again to speak, then stopping himself and hesitating. "I want the best for this club, as do you," he said carefully, measuring each word as he said it. "And you know what is best for the club."
Chibs chuckled. Of course he did, it was him at the head of a runaway table. He was convinced that every move Jax made was to regain his position at the gavel, but, right now, however much he wanted to withhold the place from Teller, he wanted his Nina back moreso. They paced in silence towards the cafeteria, a remote little corner of the building, to find a fearful handful of doctors and civilians gathered in one corner. They looked at Chibs in panic, presuming he was part of the problem,.
"I wouldn't worry about me," he sneered, looking at them as he tossed himself down on a red plastic seat and leaned back, his hands in his hair. "Jesus fucking Christ." He stared up at the ceiling, what the hell happened now?
"All of you, down, on the floor," one of the Irishmen ordered. The few people trapped in the room whimpered as they cowered down on orders, and Chibs rolled his eyes as he lit a cigarette, fiddling with one of the metal 'no smoking' signs on the tabletop as he took the first drag.
"It's all just bullshite," he muttered, to himself but Jax was listening intently. "This, all of this. I got two girls in that other room and I'm gonna get fucked either way. What's the goddamn point?" He slipped his hand inside his cut and dragged out one of his blades. Flicking the knife out of its holder, he swung it smoothly and without hesitation beneath the stitching of his President patch and pulled the thing away, breaking the tiny little stitches Nina had sewn way too many years ago. He caught the patch as it fell and tossed it across the table to Jax with a laugh, waving it away. "It's your club, brother, you make your decisions. I have to take care of my family."
"I like decisive people," Galen mused as he flicked the blind open with two fingers and peeked out. He had shoved Natasha into a seat in the corner and was idly talking to both Emily and Tara, who had no choice but to sit still and listen to him. "You know, when I thought about storming a hospital, I thought the press would be pretty bad. But press, you know, it's easily bought. You know it only cost me a grand to buy some reporter's time to start the rumour mill going? Two mental patients take over the asylum?" He laughed. "Makes a pretty good story."
"You've killed a dozen police officers," Tara murmured quietly. "When they don't call in, they'll just send more."
Galen smiled at that as he turned around and looked at her. "You're smart, I like that." He paced towards her, cupping her cheeks in one hand and pinching them roughly. "You see, the thing is, that's what I'm banking on. Your… trigger-happy friends? Out in the hall, having a little coffee? They'll do what they always do. Shoot to kill. Not think through the consequences. You can't tell a man's Irish once he's dead… so all the police'll be left with are a bunch of living, breathing Sons." He grinned. "That's some bad, bad PR."
Natasha could feel her heart sinking into her stomach, he was trying to set the club up. She looked pleadingly to Emily, who simply stared back at her coldly. "What are you trying to do, Uncle Galen? This can't be the answer."
Galen smiled at her, a sweet yet patronising expression spreading across his face. "I think it can, pet," he said. "You see, my organisation have grown quite fond of this one," he said, patting Tig's foot gently. "But this… mess, with your mother and Filip Telford. It won't do." He sighed a little as he said it. "Chinese are a good viable alternative, the Kings aren't convinced but once they see that SAMCRO are a liability, that they're… unhinged. Susceptible." He nodded, convinced by his own argument. "They'll have their hands forced."
"And you'll just be the puppet-master," Tara whispered. Galen laughed.
"I prefer 'wizard', but at least you get my drift," he teased.
Tara opened her mouth to object when Tig made a gentle, grumbling noise. All eyes fell on him as he blinked for a moment, unaware of his surroundings but sure of only one thing. He broke into a sleepy, disconnected smile as he saw Nina's body beside his and he reached for her with a sense of relief on his face.
"Mine," he murmured happily. "Mine. You're always mine."
Galen laughed, an ugly, loud laugh that sat ill with every single person in the room. He watched as Tig's eyes closed again, his arm now firmly draped around Nina's chest, and Galen rolled his sleeves up as he walked around the bed. Shooing Emily away with just a look, he turned Nina onto her back and extended her forearm, stretching it out in front of him and running his thumb over her flawless skin. "Is that what he thinks you are, huh? His?" He stroked Nina's hair gently as she slept before reaching for Tig's hunting knife from the side cabinet. Unsheathing it, he weighed it up in his hand for the briefest moment before taking it and pressing the length of the blade in one deep slice down against Nina's arm. Natasha started at him quickly, her hands grabbing at his shirt as she tried to pull him off but Galen slapped her back, shoving her towards Tara in an instant. He wielded the knife easily in his hands, pressing the point carefully to Natasha's throat as his eyes narrowed.
"Don't make me hurt you, Tash, you've always been my favourite."
He gave Tara a warning look, one that Tara knew better than to ignore. Despite the fierce struggle Natasha gave, Tara held onto her tight, fearing what might happen if Galen took out his frustrations on her. The young girl whined and whimpered as she tried to break free, screaming at Emily to do something but Em just stood silently by.
"Stop it!" Natasha shrieked, fighting with Tara as she tried to hold her back. "Don't hurt my Ma! You can't."
"She's not yours to protect," Galen laughed as he continued to work the blade in quick, sharp movements against Nina's arms. In twelve sharp strokes, he had carved the crude letters of MINE into her skin. He laughed to himself as he saw the blood trickling down and he looked at Tara as he replaced the knife in its holder. "Wrap it up. She bleeds out, or it doesn't scar? I'll have a message for your throat next, understood?"