Chapter Fifty: Unnecessary Measures

I found some Vicodin in the bathroom cabinet, a large dose of which pretty much knocked Tig out. We'd pulled the slug and managed to dress the wound, though I was still glad Tara would be there the following day to look at it properly; Gemma had called her and explained that she'd need medical supplies. We were hoping, for his sake, that Nate would forget what'd happened in the morning; he'd been really distressed by the guilt he felt when he realised what'd happened. I found the whole thing quite disturbing, but it wasn't his fault. It was mine, I supposed, for insisting we fuck on the kitchen counter rather than upstairs behind a closed door.

I was brushing my teeth and getting ready to go to bed when I heard sounds of a struggle downstairs. Opening the bathroom door, I listened in the direction of the stairs and managed to catch voices:
"-little bitch, in there-" That was Gemma.

"Get off me you crazy-" And Amelia. Hurrying downstairs, clad in only shorts and a tank top, I jumped the bottom two steps to see Gemma trying to wrestle Amelia into the basement. She had her hands together behind her back, but Amelia was kicking and screaming.

"What the fuck is going on?" I asked, announcing my presence.

"This bitch was gonna rat me out," Gemma spat.

"What?"

"Don't just stand there, help me!" Wondering just how I was supposed to do that, or even what I was trying to help with, I lurched down the hallway and held the basement door open. Gemma shoved Amelia down the stairs, where she thumped sickeningly on each one until she landed at the bottom, passed out. I cringed.

"Holy shit, Gemma," I said. She hurried down the stairs after the Latino.

"Come on," She called. Closing the door behind me so as not to draw Nate out of bed at the commotion (it wouldn't work on the dosed up Tig), I followed her down the stairs. Gemma, by brute force alone, managed to lift the caregiver into a chair. "Tape her hands down," My step-mother ordered, handing me the duct tape. I raised my eyebrows at her.

"Are you serious?" I questioned, "This is kidnap, Gemma."

"She leaves this house and it's a prison sentence," She responded briskly. I'd never done anything like this in my life, but seeing no other choice, I did as I was told and taped her wrists to the arms of the chair. Gemma did her feet and then found one of those sleeping masks and covered her eyes with it.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"I'll get the doctor to look at her injuries tomorrow," She stated, "Can't afford her seeing anyone's face." I nodded. I mean, I understood it, on some level, but I also realised how batshit fucking insane this was. We stood and looked at her for a minute, until she began to stir in the chair. Wordlessly, I left the basement, Gemma on my heels. Only upstairs did I turn back to her.

"What the actual fuck, Gem?" I demanded. Gemma sighed.

"The price on my head has gone up - $25K now. She was gonna hand me in." She pointed to the computer screen, where her own face stared back at me. It was her wanted poster.

"Shit," I cursed, hesitating. "But I mean, what are we gonna do? We can't lock her down there forever."

"I don't know," Gemma admitted, "We'll figure something out."

"And what if she needs to- you know- eat and pee?"

"I'm not gonna starve the bitch. And there are bedpans," Gemma added. I simply didn't know what else I could possibly say- so I went up to bed. I never thought I'd see the day where Tig Trager was not the craziest person under a given roof- unless, of course, Happy was also under it.


"So… he thought you were Gemma's mother?" Tara clarified, frowning as she cleaned Tig's wound up a little.

"Yeah, apparently," I replied with a sigh.

"So why did he shoot Tig?" She questioned. Tig and I exchanged a look, but it was Gemma who filled Tara in in her most delicate fashion:

"Because he was fucking her in the middle of the kitchen." Tara spluttered, looking up at me, apparently shocked.

"Hey," Tig interjected, "It wasn't quite in the middle, Gem. It was more to the side, on the counter."

"Where food is prepared?" Tara asked distastefully.

"Don't worry, I emptied a bottle of antiseptic over that baby last night," Gemma reassured her. I just looked down at my feet, feeling embarrassed. I hadn't had a chance to the night before, what with events immediately after eclipsing it all completely. Tig reached out and took my hand gently. I looked over at him and he gave me a reassuring nod. I exhaled; I knew they were just kidding around. I just hoped to God that Nate really had forgotten the events of the previous night.

"Well," Tara told Tig, "You're gonna be fine. There's no bone or muscle damage." She smoothed the new dressing down over the wound and I held out Tig's shirt so he could slip his arms into it.

"Thanks, Doc," Tig said gratefully as he began to do the buttons up.

"It's okay," She smiled, glancing briefly at me too. I smiled back.

"So, uh, how's Jax holding up?" He asked her, more seriously. I perked up my listening, though we were all aware that Gemma was right there and we couldn't give away anything about Abel.

"I don't know," Tara sighed, and I frowned. "I'm sure he tells you guys more than he does me." I frowned deeper, about ready to get pissed at my brother. He had no idea how good he had it with Tara, clearly.

"Wait, have you guys seen my Dad?" Gemma questioned, "Dad? Nate?" She called at large.

"Not since I first got here," Tara answered.

"Nope," Tig and I chorused. A quick check confirmed that Nate was gone- as was his car, and the hunting rifle he'd shot Tig with. We all looked at each other grimly, with no idea what to do. None of us knew this area that well and we had no idea where he might even be going.

"Someone must know his routine," Tara mentioned.

"Yeah, someone does," Gemma agreed finally, throwing me a look. I sighed.

"You can show her," I said plainly. I wanted no part of whatever the fuck was going on with Amelia in that basement. I mean, sure, I'd disliked the bitch and resented the fact she tried to get her mitts into my man, but I didn't actually want to hurt her. I thought kidnap was a bit fucking far anyway- it probably wouldn't have taken much to scare her into staying silent about Gemma. All we'd have had to do was call the Sons. Tig alone might even have managed it.

As the other two headed downstairs, I sat down beside Tig on the edge of the bed and took his hand.
"I'm sorry I got you shot," I apologised sadly. He looked at me and smiled, shaking his head.

"It's not your fault, Kitten." He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I sighed and leaned against him, careful not to jostle him too much as it was the side he'd been shot on. However, he put his arm around me stiffly and leaned his head down on mine. "I'm sorry I lost my shit the other day. I went overboard. I wish you'd told me, but… it's done now. And now I know."

"So all I have to do to get your forgiveness in future is act like a jealous psycho?" I questioned. He chuckled.

"Act like a jealous psycho anyway, doll. It's a good look on you." It was my turn to laugh. Predictably, Tig's phone rang. He groaned as it was across the room so I got to my feet and fetched it, handing it to him. Quietly thanking me, he flipped it open.
"Yeah?" He listened. "Oh shit. When…? Yeah. Right. Absolutely. Okay, see you soon, brother." I could tell by the expression on his face that whatever he'd been told wasn't good.

"What's happened?" I asked immediately. Tig sighed.

"Jacob Hale's requested a new bail hearing for that federal weapons charge," Tig told me, "We could all be looking at prison again, doll."

"What? Fuck," I covered my face with my hands. I'd known that the pending charge would loom, but I'd pushed it to the back of my mind. Tig's hands found me, one on the small of my back, one on our baby.

"I'm sorry, baby," He said quietly. "There's more. Cameron Hayes is in Canada. Jax is heading up there to get Abel… the others have all voted to go with him." I nodded, looking at him, meeting his blue eyes. But I didn't expect him to say what he did next: "I'm not going, though."

"Tig-"

"No, Kitten. I'm not leaving you again." He pressed a finger to my lips when I opened them to argue. "I know you want us to find your nephew- and we will, I swear. But we have our own baby we need to keep safe, and we can't guarantee that with whoever the hell is following you around. You said they never show up when one of us is with you… Me. I'll stay with you. Jax and Clay will understand."

I fought with myself for a minute. I knew Tig should be going with the club, going to find my nephew and bring him home. I didn't want to separate him from his brothers. But on the other hand… I felt a huge surge of relief. This hearing could dish out a lengthy sentence. It wasn't exactly going to take a single afternoon to search the entirety of Canada for Abel- unless he skipped bail, Tig might barely make it back before he was locked up. Suddenly there was a ticking clock on our heads, and I didn't want to be apart from him again. The previous few weeks had been hellish enough. Besides, I knew he was right- Jax and Clay would understand. They'd probably actively encourage it- as would Chibs. I'd proven I couldn't behave myself, anyway, when Tig was away.

"Thank you," I breathed, instead of trying to change his mind, and kissed him.


"Where's Tara?" I questioned Gemma a little later. She was sat in the lounge with Nate, who'd eventually returned home.

"Downstairs," Gemma replied significantly. I nodded; I guessed Tara was tending to Amelia's injuries. Nate looked around at me.

"I'm sorry," He said suddenly, "About last night. I… I wasn't myself." I looked down at him and I smiled, feeling bad for the old man. I went over to him and put my hand on his shoulder.

"No harm done, Mr Madock," I insisted, "Everything's fine." He swallowed and nodded, then his eyes moved down to my slightly swollen stomach.

"You're having a baby?" He asked. It was the first time since I'd arrived that he seemed to have noticed anything much about me at all. I suddenly had a flash of who Nate was before the dementia set in; his eyes had intelligence to them, his presence was calming- I supposed that was his church work.

"I am," I confirmed.

"It's his?" He nudged his head in the direction of the door, and I knew he meant Tig. I nodded and he smiled. "He's a little rough around the edges but I think you kids can make it work." I had to laugh at the idea of calling Tig a 'kid'. Gemma raised her eyebrows at her father.

"Where was that generosity when John knocked me up?" She asked him. Nate looked across at her.

"When you get to be as old as I am you can afford a little generosity," He replied, and pushed himself to his feet. "I'm going to go and rest up, sweethearts."

"See you later, Daddy," Gemma bade him as he shuffled out of the room and upstairs. She looked at me, "Where's Tig?"

"Sorting stuff out with the club," I replied, "They'll probably stop off here."

"What for?"

"Uh, I don't know," I lied, realising my mistake, "Some run." Gemma grunted and got to her feet, following me out towards the kitchen. I only got about halfway when the basement door opened and Amelia burst out. She grabbed my arm and pulled me around, slamming me against the wall.

"Get off!" I cried. She had a boning knife in her hand.

"She's pregnant you crazy bitch!" Gemma grabbed her and hauled her off. Amelia pressed the knife to Gemma's throat.

"Where are the keys to Nate's car?" Amelia demanded.

"I swear, I don't know where they are!" Gemma gasped, trying to back away from the knife. I went to try and grab the arm Amelia was using to wield the knife but she swung back and clocked me in mouth. I reeled back, putting distance between her and the baby. "They're probably still in his pocket!" Gemma told the caregiver, who put the knife back up to her throat. At that moment, Tara appeared out of nowhere from behind her and smacked her over the head. Gemma took the chance to seize the knife. There was a scuffle, which I dodged out of the way of, and then I saw the knife sinking into Amelia's chest- her own hand on the handle, somehow. With a horrible sound, she gasped out her last breath then fell.

There was a brief ringing silence. Tara, Gemma and I all looked at each other, shocked. Then Tara bent down.

"Oh my god," She gasped, feeling Amelia's wrist, "Sh- she's dead." We all stared at one another.

"Her plan, not mine," Gemma said, but she looked quite shell-shocked by the incident. Tara stood up, her hands shaking.

"W-what do we do?" She questioned. I swallowed, folding both hands over my bump, but stepped up.

"I'll get Tig." I had to step over Amelia's dead body on my way to the stairs.


A/N: I can't believe I'm on the 50th chapter! And it's the infamous moment the lovely ladies whacked the caretaker. What do you think of Tig staying behind to look out for Eliza- do you think the club will approve? Thanks so much for all the ongoing support, guys- it means the world.