Oh, will you walk with me out on the wire?

'Cause, baby, I'm just a scared and lonely rider

But I gotta know how it feels

I wanna know if love is wild

Babe, I wanna know if love is real

Oh, can you show me?

Born to Run – Bruce Springsteen

Tig leaned on the doorbell, not expecting to get an answer. Mattie had refused to speak to him all week, and now that Book was out of town with Bobby and Otto on a run, he was hoping that she'd come around. He knew she was home- her Civic was in the driveway- but after listening to her pound on the heavy bag all day long in the yard, he also knew that she was running solely on the leftover fumes of her anger.

You really thought it was a good idea to tell my dad about us without me?

No, he didn't, but he'd put off telling Book for such a long time that he just needed to get it off his chest, plus, he was worried that Colleen would run her mouth before Gemma was able to do damage control. Tig elected not to tell Mattie about Colleen, thinking that it would make everything unnecessarily complicated- more than it already was- and piss her off even further.

Mattie looked scarily like Gemma when she was angry, all dark, pointed looks and tautly pursed lips. And the girl had a pro's mastery of the silent treatment. No matter what Tig did, she'd quickly pull away and direct her attention someplace else. In today's case, she simply held up one hand to silently say, "fuck off," and went over to talk to Koz mostly because she knew it'd irk Tig. Or at least that's what he assumed- because it really did annoy the shit out of him.

He was trying to save her reputation, for Christ's sake. Colleen was ready to go spreading rumors throughout Charming- a town she hadn't even fucking lived in for years- that'd destroy Mattie. She was already a biker's daughter, a title that the conventional small town society held in disdain. A biker's daughter fucking around with somebody more than twice her age? When she was just seventeen? Damn. Tig wasn't willing to put his girl through more shit than she already had to deal with. Not that schoolwork and prom preparations were really all that taxing to a girl like Matt. How many other Charming High Seniors could say they'd narrowly avoided death twice in one year- once by sheer luck and the other by force of will?

Like Tig thought, she didn't respond to the chiming doorbell, so he settled for pounding on the door instead. He wasn't going to be frightened off by a teenager throwing a temper tantrum. Even if he did kind of deserve it.

It was the first time that Tig could ever remember Mattie being sent home before the Friday night fights. Usually it was the opposite- Book forcing her to stay for his rounds in the ring before she was allowed to join Donna or the SAMCRO babies in their weekend exploits- but he ordered her to leave the TM compound. She'd asked why and Book replied in a single word: Tig. To her credit, she didn't react in any sort of predictable way nor did she question her father's demand. Just nodded in a resolutely and headed to her car. Refused to meet Tig's eyes as she went, which he should've known was a bad sign.

Sunday morning was the first time he'd actually managed to speak with Mattie- honestly, it was less speaking and more stalking, considering that he had to follow her into the library and coerce her into a conversation- and it hadn't gone well whatsoever. And if he wasn't already in so far over his head, then you could fucking bet he wouldn't have bothered at all. But Mattie didn't even listen to what he had to say, she'd just closed her eyes and ears- proverbially, she actually didn't avert her angry glare the whole fifteen minutes they were together- and told him to leave her alone.

"You don't understand the relationship I have with my father, Tig. I never outright lied to him about you, but I never told him either, and his eyes, that's the bigger betrayal."

"Don't be so goddamn dramatic."

Mattie, realizing that they were in the middle of the public library, couched her irritation in a single clench of her fists. "He's preached about loyalty since I was seven fucking years old. I can count the number of lies I've told him on one hand, and three out of five are about you."

"Please." He hissed dismissively. "You're no angel, sweetheart. I bet daddy doesn't know about all those times I caught you and the boy scout making out behind the clubhouse."

"David accounts for one fifth of those lies, which is still miniscule compared to your share." Mattie shook her head. "It's not so much that you talked to my dad, it's that you didn't bother to involve me. Now he think I'm some sort of sex-crazed teenager who lusts after men twenty years her senior."

"Eighteen."

"Same fucking thing." She bit out. "I lost his trust because I didn't have the balls to tell him about you. He's barely said a word to me since Friday and…"

Her voice broke and all Tig wanted to do was wrap his arms around his girl- he couldn't think of her as anything else- and tug her into his chest. But she took a full step back and folded in on herself, those red sweatshirt bedecked shoulders pulling forward and shutting him out.

Tig thought about asking who the hell she thought she was, walking away from him. Did she think he summoned feelings for just anybody? He'd spent nearly nine months letting Mattie run laps inside his head, indulging in the idea of pursuing the forbidden. He was still waiting to fuck her- could Mattie even comprehend the kind of self-control that required? Tig was all about instant gratification and his relationship with her was just a long, nearly unbearable waiting game.

Mattie still wasn't answering the door. Other men might've walked away at that point, but Tig persisted. Partly because he was worried- those memories of her incident with Hirsch were still easily accessible- and he was beyond ready to be done with their disagreement. He needed Mattie to forgive him.

When Tig told Book that he was in love with Mattie, he meant it. He didn't know why it happened- yes, he did- or when it happened- yes, he did- but his heart felt funny when she was around and he felt shitty that she was pissed and he fucking hated all of it. Tig never allowed a woman to fuck with his head but there he was, walking around the side of Mattie's house to the back door, which was one of those sliding glass numbers, with the intention of walking inside. First to make sure she was okay, then to hash things out for once and for all.

The door was open when he yanked it to one side, so he strode right in, announcing his presence with a few stomps and a loud shout of her name. Mattie didn't reply, but he followed the sound of a radio playing Green River- she inherited her love of all things CCR related from her uncle- into her bedroom.

"Matilda!" He cried again, irritation filtering through.

"Bathroom."

Tig didn't like the way she responded, so tentatively that he strode through her newly functional restroom- Book finished the tiling and grouting after Tigger left that one Sunday- with more concern than annoyance.

"I rang the doorbell about a thousand goddamn times." He griped, mostly because he was a little resentful that Mattie was putting him through his paces.

"And knocked for an hour." She replied through gritted teeth. "I would've let you in but I figured you'd either get tired or go in through the back."

"I thought I told you to keep your doors locked from now on."

"I was gonna sit on the porch and do some work but I got distracted." Mattie said, and then held up her left hand for him to inspect.

Tig inhaled quickly when he saw her long fingers, now dangerously swollen and tinted an unsightly purple. Her knuckles, normally an unruly plane of muscle and tendons, and the whimper when he brushed his fingertips across them, made his stomach queasy. Goddamn it, that fucking heavy bag. She must've messed herself up and then gone home hoping the problem would fix itself.

He was beginning to learn that was a regular thing with her.

"Baby." Tig moaned, though he couldn't hide his disgust. "It's bad."

"I know." God, her voice was so tiny and sad.

"Can you move your fingers?"

"I don't think so." Mattie lamented before pulling away.

Shit. Tig didn't remember much from the last time she'd injured her hand- Mattie hadn't really been on his radar then as just one third of the SAMCRO baby trio- just that it ended her competitive boxing so she could focus on the piano. It was one of those either/or situations Book hadn't been able to shut up about- Tig was at a time in his life where he did not care about what anybody's kids were up to- and left her wearing a bright pink cast for nearly three months.

Mattie was majoring in something music related when she went to school, so if she lost those intricate movements… Tig didn't want to see the kind of mess she'd be.

"Give me your car keys. We'll go to St. Thomas, have you checked out." Tig said decisively.

"I'll ice it and see what happens in the morning."

"Matilda." Her whole name seemed to be the only appropriate response, and he closed the space between them, pulling her into his chest. She resisted only slightly, relaxing once her cheek met the patch-covered leather of his cut.

"They're just going to tell me what I already know." Mattie looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I knew when I threw the punch that I was going to hit the bag awkwardly and I was still so goddamn surprised when I heard something crack. I'm so fucking stupid."

"Baby." He sighed into her hair, knowing that there was nothing to say that could provide any real reassurance. Realist Mattie wouldn't believe a word of it. "Let's wrap your hand up and head to the emergency room."

She nodded dejectedly. "Okay."

Mattie went into her bedroom while Tig rifled through the medicine cabinet for an ace bandage. When he finally found one with elastic that wasn't completely stretched out, he couldn't help investigating the plastic round that held her birth control pills. While he realized that Mattie and the Hale kid had… explored… one another, he didn't like the idea of them fucking frequently enough to merit anything more than a half-used box of condoms.

Tig had always been possessive, but his relationship with Mattie sent his jealous nature into overdrive. The last time they'd been out- a Book-approved trip to the Sears in Stockton to help pick out a birthday gift for the girls several weeks ago- she'd been enjoying the warm late-April weather in a tank top that revealed a generous amount of cleavage. Enough to attract the attention of some particularly disgusting male shoppers, who couldn't keep their eyes off her chest. Part of him was proud to have a girl with tits worth ogling, but mostly, he was furious. Mattie was his and that meant unless he was feeling particularly charitable- not likely- her body was his to stare at.

The guys at the club knew what lines not to cross. Even Kozik knew not to look, or at least be subtle about it. Tig's life revolved around the club for a reason- the rest of the world was a bunch of assholes who didn't know their place.

Mattie was standing in front of her dresser holding her left hand awkwardly over her shoulder when he walked into her bedroom. As shitty as Tig felt, he couldn't help but grin as she turned around.

"You're doing this for my benefit, right?"

"Help?" Mattie asked, using those big hazel eyes to her advantage.

Tig liked the view, her jeans unbuttoned but bunched around her ass, exposing a preview of yellow polka-dotted underwear. Was it wrong that despite her obvious pain, he was a little turned on?

"How can I be of service?"

She pointed an elbow towards a pair of sweatpants crumpled on the bed. "I can't get my jeans down with one hand, and I want to be comfortable just in case I have to stay overnight."

"'Kay, baby." He purred, sitting on the foot of her bed and gently tugging Mattie over by her belt loops.

Tig's mind spun with wicked possibilities as he worked the denim downwards, sure to guide his hands over the swell of her ass, teasing his fingertips over the firm flesh. Goosebumps bloomed underneath the thin cotton of her panties and he wanted to slide a few digits between her legs, see if she was as wet as he was hard. Shouldn't though, not when she was in agonizing pain- handling it with an occasional wince but not much else- and likely still mad at him. Tig's own anger had melted instantly away when he saw her hand- softhearted bastard- but Mattie's grudges usually stuck. There'd been several instances where she was pissed at the Prince for weeks, and he'd never seen her give up ground when it came to apologizing.

Mattie, when she wanted to, could be even more stubborn than Jax, and that kid was the most hardheaded idiot Tig knew.

Her jeans hit the floor and Mattie stepped out of them, angling her hips slightly against Tig, just enough so that he could admire the little crescents of skin that peeked underneath the cut of her boyshorts. While her ass was not as spectacular as her tits, Tig still enjoyed the sight before him, especially when he read the message printed on her panties in big, glittering letters.

"Matt?"

"Yeah?" She replied, leaning against his shoulder while he aided with looping the sweatpants over her feet.

"Why does your ass say 'let's get crazy'?"

Mattie shrugged. "Let's just say that I wasn't completely sober when I went shopping with Donna one day."

"Innocent little Matilda going to Victoria's Secret while she was drunk? I don't believe it." Tig deadpanned while tying the drawstring around her waist.

"I never said I was drunk." She retorted, "Koz and I shared a joint and then Donna sprung the trip on me."

His gut clenched. "Since when do you smoke with Kozik?"

"Jealous?"

"Curious." Tig couldn't hide his growl. "Ready to go?"

Mattie nodded, retrieving a set of keys from on top of her desk. The ride out to St. Thomas was short but silent- aside from a knocking in her engine that Tig made a note to inspect when they were on better terms- both of them wound up in their thoughts. He was still gnawing on the idea of Mattie spending time with Koz. It was different when she was with Jax and Opie; their togetherness was organic and mostly benign- though he never could be too sure with Jax- a remnant of their collective childhood. Tig didn't mind if the three of them spent an afternoon chattering away and getting drunk on cheap booze. Mattie getting stoned with Kozik? Yeah, not so much.

Koz wasn't really part of the mother charter family. Sure, he was a capable brother who helped lead in Tacoma, but he hadn't fully found his corner of the fold in Charming. Hard to lose the privileges as Sergeant-at-Arms- Koz was the youngest SAA in any charter, an accomplishment Tig'd heard more than enough times out of the blonde's mouth- but it was Koz's choice. Hadn't been able to get over the fact that he got passed up for the VP position for somebody with more experience, let his ego get in the way of the club. Tig personally found it ridiculous, but Kozik had always been a whiner. Tig was more of a grin and bear it kind of man, and when things got intolerable, he took care of them.

The emergency room was packed when he and Mattie walked in, even if the crowd parted a little bit when they caught sight of his cut. A short-tempered nurse at the front station politely informed them that the wait was going to be at least an hour, and if Mattie was lucky, she'd get a bed in the hallway. Then she handed them a few papers and a half-dead pen and sent them off. Tig had to glare at somebody just to get two seats together in the waiting room.

"This is fucking ridiculous." Mattie sighed, scooting close to him. The less than put together woman at her right was coughing into a yellowed handkerchief and Tig could tell his girl had no intentions of adding bronchitis to her list of maladies.

Tig nodded, looking down the intake papers. "You have your insurance card with you?"

"Yeah. It's in my wallet behind my license." Mattie shimmied, and he tucked his hand into the pocket she offered. The action didn't attract as much attention as he thought it might.

Mattie looked over his shoulder as he filled out the information, his hideous scrawl filling the tiny boxes. It was hard to write with her cheek pressed against his arm- he was a lefty- but he didn't protest. They were going to be stuck in St. Thomas all night, no reason to piss her off even more than she already was.

"What does the S in Matilda S. Cardinal stand for?"

"It just needs a middle initial." Mattie protested, pointing at the form.

"I know. Just wanted to ask." Tig raised an eyebrow. "Matilda Sarah Cardinal?"

"No. And trust me, you'll never guess."

"Matilda Sabrina?"

"God, no."

"Sadie?" Tig kept going as she shook her head at each one. "Savannah? Shannon? Stephanie? Sage? Come on, it can't be worse than Sage."

Mattie grinned. "Scout."

"Scout? Fuck you. Your middle name isn't Scout."

She laughed at his incredulousness. "Scout's the main character in To Kill a Mockingbird."

Book's favorite, well, book. He'd tried to get Tig to read it plenty of times, but the SAA always resisted, settling for a very occasional spaghetti western when he was feeling literary. He didn't devour novels like Mattie and her father.

"Your dad is a fucking weirdo." Tig murmured, easily filling in her birth date. He'd been counting down to June 18th for months.

"Better than Matilda Sage."

"Got me there, baby."

Mattie snuggled back into his side then, half-watching the television airing an episode of Oprah. It was either focus on that bullshit or people watch, and after only granting the St. Thomas patients a passing glance; Oprah was unfortunately the better option. Though the coincidence that the show was about women with much older boyfriends was just a little unsettling. And it meant Mattie and Tig were granted an audience of their own, people wondering whether they were father and daughter or something a tad more sinister.

Considering how his dick reacted when he glanced down her t-shirt, his intentions definitely weren't paternal.

Tig was standing in front of the microwave in her kitchen, watching a bowl of Campbell's chicken noodle rotate in circles. By the time they got out of the hospital everything in Charming was closed- the town had no fast food places, but even if it did, Mattie doubted any would be open past nine P.M. and they arrived back at her house a few minutes shy of midnight- and Tig was starving. With just one functional hand, she couldn't really whip up anything more nourishing than a can of soup.

Wasn't broken, at least. Doctor said she'd exacerbated her old injury- a boxer's fracture of the third metacarpal, a.k.a. her middle finger, on her left hand, which required surgery to fix the first time around- and originally thought she'd torn a tendon, but no, it was just a sprain. All Mattie had to do was wrap it and she'd be fine in a about a week or so. As Tig encouragingly said, she'd be back to flipping the bird soon enough.

Mattie sat on the counter, swinging her legs back and forth while not so secretly watching Tig. Arms crossed over his chest, blue-eyed gaze intent on the microwave door, cheeks clenched to emphasize those sharp cheekbones. God, he was a good-looking man.

"Tigger?" She called out, and he turned slightly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm sorry."

He raised an eyebrow as the microwave chimed. Mattie wasn't exactly known for her forgiving nature, though then again, neither was he. But there was something about Tig that made her grudges instantly dissolve, leaving her wondering why she was angry in the first place.

Mattie hadn't expected him to go to Book. Especially without her. She'd been out in the lot with Donna, curiously watching Tig and Book stop sparring and start talking. Like an idiot, she didn't think anything of it, and kept hanging out with her best friend. Even when Book told her to go home she didn't think anything was wrong, until he said Tig's name and she realized what he'd done without her.

Tig was impulsive. His actions were always quick, even more so if he had to do something uncomfortable. Do it and get it over with was his mantra, whereas Mattie's was think about it a little harder, so she should've known that the conversation with Book would happen at Tig's pace and not her own. She still wanted to be included. If she had been, perhaps Book wouldn't be treating her with a disdainful aloofness that made her feel like absolute shit.

Book knew that Mattie could lie, but when she was young he made her promise to never lie to him. No secrets because they were a team, they needed to be able to depend on one another. And she mostly obliged. Five lies over seventeen years. Sure, it was a small number to most people, but to Book, who counted on honesty from his daughter, it was a travesty. And to hear about her messing around with Tig from Tig? She knew what kind of a blow that was.

Tigger didn't, though. He didn't realize the kind of conflict his admission would cause, no matter how good his intentions were. Mattie understood that, but at the same time, Christ, he knew what Mattie's relationship with Book was like. When Reese and George left, when the Cardinal family was cut in half, it was just father and daughter against the world. Because of that, their bond was deep and strong, and unbelievably important to both of them.

Her upbringing wasn't conventional. She'd learned the perfect Jack and coke ratio by the time she was nine- her and Opie liked to play bartender when they were kids- and once she had it figured out, her father wouldn't allow anybody else to mix his favorite drink. At thirteen, they made regular trips out to the Bluebird property for target practice. Every week was a different skill; quick draw, accuracy, reloading speed… Sometimes she wondered whether he intended to train her as an assassin instead of making her proficient with a firearm. And of course there was boxing and driving lessons and all sorts of other things he'd taught her, wisdom passed down from one generation to another.

From her father, Mattie learned everything. Always think before you speak. Never wear your heart on your sleeve. Informed decisions over gut instincts. Trust should be earned, not given away. She learned loyalty and strength and intelligence from a man who killed people for the good of the club. Not many other seventeen year olds could say such a thing. Or be so proud of it.

Mattie loved her father, and she wanted him to forgive her for not telling him about Tig. But first, she needed to do some forgiving of her own.

"I was a bitch." Mattie leapt down to the floor and strode across the kitchen, masking her need to be close to Tig by fetching him a spoon from inside the silverware drawer. "A childish bitch."

Tig shrugged. "You're allowed to be pissed, I guess."

"I know. But then you had to go and be all nice today, so that pretty much blew my plan to shit." She handed him the spoon, "Thanks for coming with me."

"No problem, dollface." He said with a smirk, "It was worth it when the nurse asked what my relationship was to the patient when I handed her those intake papers."

"What'd you end up telling her?"

Slowly, Tig set down his bowl of soup and laid his hands on her waist, not so gently pinning her against the counter. After shamelessly asking him to help her change out of her pants- both in her bedroom and the exam room- she'd been waiting for him to express some of his pent up energy. Mattie would shamelessly admit that she liked being able to induce the erection he pressed into her lower abdomen.

"I told her that you were a young, beautiful, smart girl with tits that make my mouth water and an ass perfectly shaped to anchor my hands while we fuck and that it was none of her goddamn business whether I was your father or your boyfriend." Tig snarled into the crook of Mattie's neck, nipping her with his teeth as he punctuated each statement. The bites were tiny but brutal, bruising marks of his ownership.

"Did you really say all that?" Mattie whimpered when he took her earlobe between his lips, bucking when it was relinquished just so he could run his tongue along the whorl.

"Just said it was none of her business and when she got huffy, I made sure to point my name out on the emergency contacts." He kissed her temple before pulling away, reaching over to his soup. "By the way, I'm one of your emergency contacts now. First Book and then Gemma, but I'm number three."

Mattie smiled at that notion. "You want a beer to go with your soup, number three?"

"Sure."

Tig walked out into the living room then, no doubt to lay claim to the remote control. He'd been in charge of the television while they were in her exam room, though hadn't been pleased with the lack of cable programming in Emergency. For hours he bounced back and forth between college football and some action movie that she'd hadn't seen enough of to specifically name. If her hand hadn't been her first concern, she might've snapped, for her choice was easy: football beat cheesy explosions any day of the week. Didn't say that to Tigger, however. He was already doing Mattie a favor by sticking with her; he could've just dropped her off and been on his way.

Even Book would understand how Tig's surprising support would endear her to the big bastard- her father's favorite nickname for Tig- and that was just another reason she wanted to explain her feelings in her own words.

Mattie passed Tig a bottle of Miller- Opie had brought over a twelve pack last time the SAMCRO babies got together and nobody had touched it since, because both Cardinals were picky about their beer- before digging into her dinner. Just a leftover chocolate chip muffin from one of the many batches Bobby dropped off during the week, and judging by Tig's stare, he was beginning to rethink his choice of entrée. Too bad hers was the last one.

"Hey, I moved some stuff on the table around. Hope it wasn't important." Tig motioned to a pile of folders haphazardly shoved to one corner. College acceptance letters she hadn't replied to just yet. Time was running out, but that didn't mean that she was any closer to making a decision.

NYU, Berkeley and Notre Dame. All were calling her name, all were perfectly viable options. Book was still trying to enforce his rule that a club shouldn't be any more than an hour away, but he'd made it pretty clear that whatever Mattie chose, he'd be proud nonetheless. Helped that he'd been putting money into a college fund since she was a little girl, so at least that was one burden she didn't have to consider.

Mattie made sure that Book's checkbook was still amongst the mess- he'd lent it her so she could send out her deposit, and she'd got about as far as writing down a school's name before freezing and giving up- and settled down to watch the World War II documentary Tig had put on. Didn't miss the way he appraised the very obvious college brochures that he'd pushed aside, though.

"When do you have to decide?"

"By next Wednesday." Mattie answered, not acknowledging the look Tig shot her.

"Shit, Matt. Well, come on. Pros and cons, all that shit. Let's go." He ordered, swirling his spoon in the air for effect. Mattie just rolled her eyes.

"It's almost one in the morning. I don't want to do this now."

"You had months and months."

Tig leaned forward, exchanging his empty bowl for those papers. Wordlessly, he organized them into two piles, the order of which was lost to Mattie. True to form, she shied away from the task and focused on the rise of the Third Reich, paying more attention to Hitler than Tigger. She didn't want to confront her choices. Not when she was tired and in pain or when she was fresh and comfortable. And Mattie already played the pros and cons game, the either/or, the better or worse. It never made anything click.

"There." He announced, handing her Book's checkbook. "All done."

He'd written out a check for five hundred dollars to University of California Berkeley, complete with her father's signature lazily forged in the bottom corner. Everything else had been dumped unceremoniously into the small trashcan the Cardinals housed underneath the coffee table. Tig's dangerous expression dared Mattie to ask how he came to his particular conclusion.

"Tigger." It wasn't quite a challenge, just a request for information.

Tig took a deep breath, and she knew that his response wasn't going to be nice. "You didn't tell me that any of the fucking places you were considering were thousands of goddamn miles away. Indiana? New York City? You want outta Charming that bad?"

"That's not-"

"Lemme tell you this, Matilda, it's not going to fucking happen." He got off the couch, violently propelling himself across the room. "Because guess what, darlin', you and me are a thing now and that means you don't just get to go wherever the fuck you want. You don't."

"First off -" Mattie tried, knowing that he wasn't finished and she wouldn't get a whole thought out until he was.

"No! Remember the last time you were out on your own? Remember how Hirsch came into your house and tried to fucking kill you? Do you really think I'm going to let you fly across the country and go to a city that you've only seen in pictures, a place that's full of murderers and rapists just dying to get their hands on a girl like you? Do you really think I'm going to throw my girl to those wolves? No motherfucking way, Matt."

He was all frenetic energy, volatile limbs tossed in all directions, his blue eyes narrowed but completely focused on her. Mattie hadn't made a decision for just this reason- no matter what school she chose, Tig's reaction was going to be grandiose. He saw Charming as a utopia, a place that nobody in their right mind would ever want to leave. But all the women in his life, they saw it as a place to get away from. Colleen first, taking his two girls, and now Mattie.

It wasn't true, though. Mattie wasn't leaving forever. A few years, broken up by the occasional weekend spent at home and long stretches of vacation. She'd only be ninety minutes away at Berkeley, and Tig was still acting like it was a lot to ask for. God forbid she'd docked it from her list like she originally planned- her initial choices were just Notre Dame and NYU. What would his reaction have been then? Perhaps she'd be put on house arrest for the rest of her life.

It was her life. That was the whole point of turning eighteen and becoming an adult: she got to take control. Sure, maybe Mattie had a bad habit of being indecisive and putting things off, but that didn't mean that Tigger could intercept the slack and push her onto whatever track he thought was appropriate. Where was her chance for independence? Her opportunity for rebellion? Tig took full advantage of his, why couldn't Mattie?

"I understand that you're afraid-"

At least Mattie made it a few words into her monologue. "I'm not fucking afraid."

"That's not what I meant, Tigger."

He snorted. "What? You think if you look at me with those big eyes and pout those pretty lips I'm just going to let you do whatever you want? I'll just fall on my knees and go: oh, I'm so sorry, Mattie, I didn't mean to yell at you for not letting me know you were thinking about moving thousands of miles away for the next four fucking years. Yeah, that's not gonna happen."

"It's not like I kept this from you on purpose. My college choice is not a personal slight against you, either. Back when I made these choices, you were just another Son and I was just another kid." Mattie headed towards her bedroom, tired of arguing. "But you do not get to tell me what I'm allowed to do. You do not get to draw some bottom line that I haven't agreed to."

"The fuck I don't." He retorted, following her down the hallway. "Don't walk away from me."

"Or what?"

Mattie waited. She waited for Tig to snap as they both descended into her bedroom, his breathing abnormally loud, his eyes dark and glaring. He was pissed at her for questioning him, for ignoring his opinions. She couldn't believe that he expected her to go along with whatever he said. Yes, she was quiet, and yes, she was young, but that didn't mean that she needed to be Tig's little robot. Mattie had a mind of her own and just because she didn't voice that very often wasn't an invitation for Tig to take control.

Speaking of control, Tig was rapidly losing his. He was a man who never needed to check his emotions, he let them rip as he experienced them, perpetually venting. Boozing, fighting, fucking. The Tigger trifecta. Well, wasn't enough liquor in the house to get too drunk, so that left only two options. He wouldn't think twice about hitting a woman either.

"Or what?" Tig pushed Mattie backwards, into her closet door, the slatted wood vibrating as she made contact. His hands locked on her shoulders; tightly enough that she protectively curled her left arm against her stomach. "Or what, Matt?"

"Don't." She whimpered, shrinking backwards. "Please."

Tig's brow crinkled, confusion filtering into his hardened features. "You think I want to hurt you?"

"I don't know."

"You're a fucking idiot."

It wasn't the answer she expected, and neither was the kiss he plunked down afterwards. Firm and forceful, his lips so taut that Mattie knew hers would end up swollen- between his mouth and facial hair, the evidence of a make out session with Tig was always embarrassingly apparent. For a second she was glad Book was out of town until tomorrow morning, and then Tig ran his fingers underneath her shirt and she was fucking ecstatic for her father's absence. Tig's callused fingertips expertly navigated the modest satin covered cups of her bra. Mattie couldn't help the porn star-style moan she released when he found the peak of nipple, nor the way she bucked helplessly into the bulk of his body.

Tig grinned, combing the motion with quick sweep of his tongue between her lips, parting with them with obvious expertise. Mattie was powerless. No doubt what he wanted to prove all along- couldn't with his words, so he used his mouth in other ways, knowing that Mattie wouldn't be able to resist. Not when he had her all flustered and hot and amazingly undone with just a long, searing kiss.

Was she really angry with him for making the decision she'd been avoiding for months? Mattie knew in her heart she wouldn't be able to go to New York or Indiana, wouldn't be able to ditch Charming in favor of something new. She wasn't good at change. After the overhaul her life had when she was seven years old, Mattie tended to cling to a good thing. And her hometown was a good thing, whether she was willing to recognize it or not. Her father, the MC, Tigger… she'd never be able to leave any of it. But Tig's possessiveness just got the worst of her. It was her choice to make, not his, even if it was the choice she was going to make all along.

Maybe Mattie was a fucking idiot.

Her hands were picking apart the tightly wound leather of Tig's belt buckle when he pulled away, the sudden absence of him leaving her cold.

"Matilda." He'd been using her whole name all day but she still hadn't gotten used to it. The only people that called her Matilda on a regular basis were her mother and Darby- well, now that Reese was done with him, just her- so she had a natural distaste for the sound.

"Yeah?" She replied, turning her face up in that sweet way she knew he liked. Eyes all big and adoring coupled with a faint smile, an innocent expression that belied the fact she'd just tried to reach inside his jeans.

"You're gonna kill me. Good thing I fixed your shower, 'cause I'm gonna have to take a cold one." Tig hissed dramatically, pecking her forehead.

"Sorry. About before, too." She wasn't good at apologies. Hopefully Tig saw the sincerity she was having trouble conveying.

"I know. And baby?" Tigger kissed her again, softer this time, "You're okay. I'd never… I'd never hit you. No matter what. You're my girl and these hands are only ever gonna make you feel good."

Mattie nodded. Whether his words were true or just a well-intentioned lie, she wasn't sure, but for now, she was soothed. And the promise of his hands on her body, well…

Somehow, she ended up in her bed, Tig on the living room couch- after a shower in her father's bathroom upstairs- and by the time morning rolled around, all the painkillers they'd given her at St. Thomas had worn off. With no chance to run to the pharmacy to fill her prescription last night, Mattie thought she'd be fine popping a couple Advil and gritting her teeth. Maybe not.

Stumbling out into the kitchen for an ice pack, it was impossible not to notice the discrepancy between the shuddering snores coming from the sofa and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. No coffeemaker sounds though, which meant that somebody broke out the French press, and that somebody was certainly neither Tig nor Book.

Bobby was making a mess, bags of flour and sugar on the counter, refrigerator door open while he scrounged around inside. Mattie wanted to have a talk with her father; however, breakfast with her uncle was something she would definitely not refuse.

"Damn, kiddo, you scared the ever lovin' shit outta me." Bobby chuckled, pointing towards the stove. "Preheat the oven to 350."

"What're you doing here so early?" Mattie asked over shoulder, maneuvering the dials on the ancient oven.

"Didn't feel like dealin' with Precious and thought you might be hungry." He raised an eyebrow. "You hungry?"

"Yeah. Can you pass me the fullest tray of ice while you're in the fridge?"

Her uncle obliged, but she didn't miss his questioning glance. After dumping the tray into a large Ziploc bag and flourishing her still black and blue hand, Bobby grimaced and turned back to his mixing bowl.

"Did you hit Tiggy?" His tone was teasing, but Mattie knew he wasn't at all pleased about the snoring man in the living room.

Bobby was always an odd combination of strict and indulgent, either condemning her behavior- under no circumstances was she allowed to bet on Book's fights- or encouraging it- whenever there was a poker game underway, he always made sure to include her at the table. He'd caught her and Jax smoking a joint behind the clubhouse when she was thirteen and after lecturing them for about twenty minutes, he lit another and shared it. But she wasn't sure how he'd take her and Tig being together. When she dated David, her uncle seemed pretty oblivious to the whole thing, but Tig was nothing like her always-on-his-best-behavior next-door neighbor. Tigger was a whore-mongering, hard alcohol swilling man who was willing to kill for the club, the exact opposite of somebody an uncle would like to see his niece with.

Would it better if Tig wasn't acquainted with any of the men in Mattie's life?

"No. The heavy bag at the club. Punched it weird." Mattie explained with a quick demonstration. "Daddy would be horrified."

"Don't think it's the worst thing he's seen in recent weeks."

She sighed at his not so hidden meaning. "He's made that pretty clear."

"I dunno. I saw it comin' a thousand miles away. Tigger's not exactly known for his subtlety."

"Guess not."

"So did Book. I think he's just in denial. Lotta changes happening, y'know? You're about to graduate and go off to college, and now you go ahead and shack up with Tigger? That's a lot for him to process. He'll come around, though, kid. He just needs a little time."

"To what? When Reese left, he spent about a day and a half getting drunk and then he was fine. It's been more than a week and he still hasn't looked me in the eyes, and I haven't done anything to merit that sort of treatment. Christ, you've seen how much time I'm allowed to spend with Tig. Do you really think we'd have managed to-"

He held up his hands. "Baby girl, you don't gotta finish that thought. And you know as well as I do that Reese was figuring out an exit strategy for months. Your daddy was more upset about losing George than losing your mama. But he's so goddamn used to having his little girl at his side that the idea of you spending time with Tigger instead of him when you've only got a few months left in Charming is chapping his ass. Plus, Tigger's reputation doesn't help things."

Of course. "Who do you think took me to the emergency room yesterday? Who do you think missed a Friday night party to help me?" Mattie argued. "I know that Tig's done bad things. I know it as well as anybody else. But he's never been anything but good to me. Shouldn't that be what matters?"

"Honey, I'm not gonna fight you. You're nearly eighteen; you can do what you want. Nearly. Til then, you know what they say about opinions. They're like assholes, everybody's got one."

"Very wise, oh wide one." Tig's voice from the doorway startled them both.

"Nice word play, Tiggy." Bobby replied, rolling his eyes. The years of indulging in his own baked goods had long ago taken their toll, so he was used to the teasing. Wide certainly wasn't the worst he'd heard.

"I try." Tigger tucked Mattie under his arm, before asking, "Whatcha making?"

"Apple turnovers with a caramel drizzle. Gonna have to hit the gym after breakfast, Tiggy, if you want to keep your girlish figure."

"I'll go a few rounds in the ring with your niece. With only one hand, I might have a fighting chance." Tig placed a kiss on the crown of her head, and she wondered whether it was for Bobby's benefit or hers. Wasn't going to knock it, though.

Her uncle turned to stir the bubbling pot of chopped apples on the stove, and Mattie took that as a cue to leave the master to his work. The television was already on when she settled into the corner of the couch- Tig must've been up for a little while before making the trip into the kitchen- an older X-Men cartoon playing on the screen. A fine choice for a Saturday morning spent at home with her uncle and… whatever Tig was.

He was walking into the living room when the front door opened, and Mattie's stomach dropped. There were only three people who wouldn't ring the doorbell and two of them were already in the house.

Book gave Tig's presence a quick once over before directing his attention to Mattie, tossing her small orange cylinder- her pain meds. He must've seen the unfilled prescription on the coffee table and headed to the pharmacy before she was awake. Even disappointed in Mattie, he still didn't abandon his fatherly duties.

"Broken?" Book asked gruffly, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Sprained. Few weeks and I'll be fine."

"Good." He walked towards the kitchen, hovering close to Tig before clapping him on the shoulder. "Thanks."

"Anytime, brother."

Mattie wasn't sure, but that small moment felt like progress.

A/N: I know. I promised faster updates. I'm a liar, apparently. But ya'll wanted a flashback chapter and I had to write a fresh one, then life and internet troubles got in the way of a timely post. Seriously guys, next chapter will be up in less than a week. I hope. Anyway, thanks for reading, and please leave a review to let me know what you think!