A/N: This is not the end... not yet!

Playlist: Be Together (feat. Wild Belle) - Major Lazer

Disclaimer: Sutter owns SOA

Tara laid her hand across Jax's shoulder, taking a stance for her man and his club. The solidarity between the man and his woman was more than most could ever hope for. Happy sensed the true dedication to each other that they had. He was proud that his President had someone who was an equal counterpart; a woman who wouldn't break under the pressure.

He sat in his corner seat, surveying the damage of their previous President. With Jax at the helm, it was sure to change, and hopefully for the better. Jackson was a man on a mission, a man they all had complete confidence in. As the men got up and filed into the bar area, he watched the subtle exchange between the President and his Old Lady. The expression shared between them was one that hit home for him. He'd seen the face of lost dreams, one too many times. In his line of work, it was an occurring expression he encountered. That was exactly what he witnessed here tonight, Tara giving up. It was clear that with the injury to her hand, she had a higher rate of never working again, than actually being able to operate. The club had seen the turmoil between Jax and Tara, watching how much Tara had given up to stay standing beside her man. It seemed to be the curse of the club. Every woman who become connected to them, slowly lost their way, only knowing how to be an old lady. That wasn't something he wanted to see happen to Elle. She was still young, she still had her whole life ahead of her. He wasn't going to let her fade away in Charming, not with the potential she had.

He made his way into the main room, joining his brothers in a muted celebration. He accepted a beer from a crow eater and planted himself on a stool. He wasn't in the mood for celebrating. He remained at the bar alone, keeping away from the ruckus of his brothers. He pounded down beer after beer, losing track of how much he'd had to drink and the time of night it was.

"Doing alright, brother?" Jax clapped him on the shoulder and took a seat in the stool next to him.

He grunted, unsure if he could speak in coherent sentences at the moment.

Jax held up his burner, "Elle called. She's finished her project."

He nodded, staring intently at the phone in Jackson's hand.

"Said she might drop by tomorrow, give me a copy of her work." He continued.

At the mention of Elle coming back to Charming, Happy leaned back and narrowed his eyes. Jackson met his gaze one eyebrow raised.

"She shouldn't come here." Was his only response.

He pushed off the bar, grabbed the nearest crow eater and dragged her to his room, while she chattered happily in his ear.

~(xXx)~

I pulled into TM around lunch time. This was my first visit back to Charming in two months and the first time being back since my injury and Kozik's death. I called Jax last night to let him know I was going to bring a copy of the finalized project, for them to keep. As I parked my car, my heart was thudded in my chest. I gave myself a silent pep talk, knowing that I wasn't in any immediate danger, but I couldn't help scanning the compound, making sure there were no lurking cars hanging around. Better safe than sorry was my new motto. I hauled the black portfolio out of my bag and stepped out of my shelter. I gazed around the parking lot, noticing all the bikes lined up neatly. In the middle of them I spotted the familiar Harley. It was the only one I'd ever been able to pinpoint. I could spot Happy's minimal style from a mile away. I knew from Jax that all the boys were around, having spent the night partying for his vote into the President's patch. None of them were in a position to drive home. I was using their hangovers to my advantage, gaining the opportunity to surprise Happy. He'd been spending all his time coming to Berkeley lately, and I knew it was time to finally get over my aversion to this small town. I made my way over to the clubhouse just as the doors opened. All the boys were filing out greeting the sunshine with swearing and grumbled protests. I greeted Jax with a smile and he inclined his head towards me in hello.

"Ellie girl!" Chibs called.

I wrapped one arm around the Scot, "Hey Chibbie."

Since Chibs had come to comfort me after Kozik's passing, I'd grown to love the man exceptionally more. What was a tentative friendship had turned into a full blown sibling bond. Chibs seemed genuinely pleased to see me and it helped in calming my internal freak out. I gazed around finding that Happy had joined everyone, standing near the doors, deep in conversation with Jackson. He hadn't noticed me yet when but when Tig called out for me, and walked over to where I was standing, Happy turned at the sound of my name. He stared at me for a moment before he came over, grabbing my hand and tugging me away from Chibs. I stumbled after him, dropping the portfolio on the floor behind me. He very nearly dragged me through the door and into the clubhouse. Once inside I tried to loosen my hand from his but he wasn't having it. His grip tightened and he pulled me along. Why was he being so rough? What was his problem? All my insecurities about Charming, Happy, the Sons of Anarchy and myself surged to the surface and panic overwhelmed me. My breathing became shallow and I had to yank hard on my arm for Happy to slow down.

"Let go." I choked for air.

Happy glanced back and dropped my hand immediately. I held my arm to my chest, cradling it and rubbing where his fingers had left a red mark. He closed his eyes, seemingly disappointed in himself for forgetting my plights and opened the door to his dorm room. I concentrated on my breathing, leveling out my breaths to calm, even inhales. He held the door open for me, and I inched around him. I still didn't understand his haste to get me alone. All I could fathom was that something important was discussed last night. That could be the only logical explanation for his complete lack of compassion when it came to my fragile state. Once we were both inside he shut the door behind us. I turned to face him, lowering myself onto the edge of his bed, while he remained standing leaning against one of the dressers.

"What's going on Happy?" I demanded as I sat down.

This was one of those strange moments were Happy wasn't the completely guarded man he was around other people. There was genuine emotion shining in his eyes. He was conflicted; both anger and sorrow flowing through his expression.

My eyebrows creased in confusion, "Is everything alright?"

"When were you going to tell me?" He countered.

I shook my head, not understanding, "Tell you what?"

"Fuck Elle! Don't play dumb with me." He stomped his foot down, frustration clear across his face.

I jumped up startled at his flip in mood, "What the fuck Happy? I don't know what you're talking about!" My breathing began to speed up again, and I fought with the tears threatening to spill over. He was scaring me.

He stalked towards me so that we were inches apart, "When were you going to tell me you finished?"

"Oh," I breathed, I relaxed minutely, although the tension in my body continued to hold me rigid, "I didn't realize it was that important to you."

"You didn't think it was important?!" He nearly shouted.

I leaned away from him, surprised with his anger, "Why are you so mad? I finished my project. What's the big deal? Jackson obviously told you. I haven't even been here a full five minutes yet. Why are you jumping down my throat?"

His anger dissipated, backing away and sunk down in to the chair across from the bed. Both his elbows rested on either knee, his head hung low, barely kept up by his hands. I approached him with caution, unsure of what emotion I'd be greeted with next. I knelt down in front of him, either hand wrapped around the handles of the chair.

"Why is this bothering you?" I pleaded, "Tell me what the problem is."

There was silence for a full minute while he refused to look up, still staring down at the floor. His mood swings were going to give me whiplash. I was starting to understand why he kept himself so guarded. He had problems trying to keep himself in check, unable to properly express his feeling properly.

"When are you leaving?" He finally asked.

"What? Why do you think I'm leaving?" I frowned.

He looked up at me, our gazes on even ground. I was confused. He wasn't making any sense at all.

"Why would I be leaving?" I reiterated.

He sighed, "You finished your project. It's done."

I narrowed my eyes, his thought process clicking with mine, "That's it? You thought I'd just pack up and leave as soon as I finished?" I shot back up, stomping away from him and then turned to shout, "Are you really that dense?"

He remained silent, letting me stew in my anger. Did he really expect me to cut and run once I was finished the piece? Did he think I would just forget everything we went through? In the short year I'd been with them – him – I'd grown to care for these boys. They were a second family to me. I paced back and forth, baffled that he thought I was going to abandon them. I was fucking shot and still managed to make it back. Why would I cower away now?

I stopped, facing him, "I'm not going anywhere."

"What about your career?" He questioned.

I shrugged, "What about it? I can be a journalist from here in California."

"No." He shook his head.

"What do you mean no?" I shrilled. Clearly he'd given this quite some thought.

He stood, "I'm not letting you throw your life away for me."

I laughed with a bitterness, "You can't tell me what to do."

"Maybe not but I can make you leave." He threatened.

I ground my teeth together, "No you can't."

He walked towards the door, ripping it open and gesturing for me to leave.

I snorted, dropping down onto his bed, my arms crossed, "Ten seconds ago you didn't want me to leave, now you're deliberately trying to make me? Make up your fucking mind."

"Ten seconds ago I thought you were making the right decision by leaving. Now you're just being a stubborn bitch." He yelled.

"Fuck you! Calling me names isn't going to suddenly make me love you any less." I screamed back.

I inhaled sharply, realizing what I'd said. I hadn't even fully acknowledged that I loved him to myself, now I was blurting it out unintentionally. Our devotion to one another was obvious, but there still hadn't been any kind of confirmation how much we actually cared for one another. He gazed, leaving a pregnant pause between the two of us.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"I-I… I love you, Happy." I restated. I slumped down with the weight of my confession, my head hanging, "I thought you'd have figured it out by now."

I loved the man, damn it. It probably the smartest decision on my part but you can't help who you love. He stood motionless, in the doorway, staring at me silent as the grave. I chanced a glance at him. As my eyes met his, I watched his default shield raise. Blocking any and all emotion from his body – from me. I shook my head with vigor, pissed that he was closing himself off. The tears I tried to hide earlier came leaking out in full force.

I stood, stomping one foot in petulance, "Don't you dare! Don't you dare shut me out!"

He was hiding from me – from us – turning himself off, becoming the all feared killer.

"Admit it!" I whispered, "You love me back. Just admit it."

A sickening smirk spread across his face, "You were nothing but an OK lay. How else would we guarantee you'd give us a positive stance in your stupid little project?"

I clenched my teeth together, my face twitching with fury. He was pushing me away, using my insecurities as his defence mechanism. I scrunched my nose up with distaste.

"That's not going to work. I know you're lying." I hissed.

He shrugged, "Whatever helps you sleep at night. The club needed you to fall in line. You didn't think I had a genuine interest in you, did you? Not with all these crow eaters around. Why work for something when I get it for free whenever I want?"

I screamed in utter fury, "STOP IT! Shut up!"

In a flash I was standing in front of him. I lifted my right hand, striking him hard across the cheek. His head shot sideways with the force of my palm. He growled at me, his hand twisting around my wrist and ripping it away from him. I bared my teeth, taking the brunt of his harsh grip on my wrist. I wasn't going to let him get away with this. He was trying to make me run away, he wanted me to overreact. I yanked my hand back from him, rubbing away the sting.

I growled, "Lying to me isn't going to make me leave."

"Who's lying?" He said rhetorically, "You know deep down it's the truth. It's been the plan since day one."

My nostrils flared and I shoved him hard, both my hands against his chest. He stumbled backwards into the door, slamming it into the wall, the hinges creaking from pressure. I fell with him, using my fists to push up off of him. Without delay I kept my fists curled and began pounding into him, my fists punching against the worn leather of his cut.

"Liar!" I screamed as I hit him.

From behind us, a toilet flushed and the bathroom door opened. We both spun at the interruption.

The crow eater backed away, her hands up in surrender, "Sorry. Pretend I'm not here."

I turned back to him, my face screwed up in betrayal. With the evidence of his disloyalty, the force of his words wormed their way into my thoughts, confirming all of my insecurities. I should've known. I knew it was going to come to an end. This is what he wanted. He wanted to play on my anxieties, using them to his advantage. I fought with myself, trying to block out all self-doubt, but everything he'd said made sense. Us as a couple never really made any sense, and now it was all clear. It was a game, a game to keep them me in their good graces. Why did I let myself get caught up? I should've heeded my own advice and kept a safe distance from them all, right from the beginning. My fists stilled in their constant berating and I broke down, weeping. For a minute, I forgot where I was, and laid my forehead against his chest, letting it all out. He let me cry into him, before grabbing my upper arms and attempting to push me off of him. At his touch, I recoiled.

I hissed, "Don't you dare touch me."

I spun on my heel tearing out of his room. I sped through the clubhouse, barely registering all the faces that were standing at the bar. They must have followed us in after Happy dragged me through. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I registered that they'd all been witnesses to our 'break-up'. It felt like déjà vu as I ran past them. This wasn't the first time I fled from this place. Each time had to do directly with the same person and each time I'd been overwhelmed with insecurities. The first time I slept with him, after getting shot and now, for the final time, as I had my heart ripped from my chest.

I registered the grief on a few of the men's faces but chalked it up to them being concerned for their brother. None of them cared for me. I wasn't even a blip on their radar. I shouldered the clubhouse door open and raced to my car. I shot out of the compound my tires squealing in protest at my speed. I didn't even bother glancing back. There wasn't any point. He'd made it clear I was nothing to him, that our entire relationship was a ruse. I allowed myself the chance to cry it out, the tears blurring my vision as I sped down the streets of this backwoods hick town. Once I hit the open road, I raced back to San Francisco, far enough away to keep them out of my life. It was easy to lose their memory in a city full of people. The Sons of Anarchy no longer meant anything to me. They were a simple project, aiding me in my graduation. I had a bright future ahead of me and none of it included a man named Happy. He was just a figment of my imagination, someone I dreamed up. I'd wake up tomorrow, realizing this entire relationship was a dream… I just knew it.