AN: For anyone wondering (or not following the blog for this story!), Persephone Wallace is based, looks-wise, on Jasmine Cephas Jones.

(Let the record show, I LOVE Jasmine Cephas Jones.)

I don't want to talk
About the things we've gone through
Though it's hurting me
Now it's history
I've played all my cards
And that's what you've done too
Nothing more to say
No more ace to play

ABBA — The Winner Takes It All

"A gun," Gemma repeated.

"Something unregistered, untraceable. With that break-in, I'm not exactly feeling safe nowadays. If I get popped, I know better than to open my mouth as to who I got it from. Trust me," Rhiannon answered. Once an old lady, clearly, always an old lady. To the outside world, they maintained an image of rough and tumble 'motorcycle enthusiasts.' Her first internship alongside her uncle was her inside look. "Consider it rented. I'll return it in a few days when I go back to San Francisco, I'll pay you two hundred cash right now."

"Keep the money. You've got some of the worst aim I've ever seen, I don't know how much you've improved over the years." Gemma stood up from her office chair and tossed her head to signal Rhiannon to follow.

And like a puppy, she did.

"I've gotten better. I can hit the target a lot of the time now. I started taking self-defense classes. I just...don't know if it'll be enough. Once I'm back in San Francisco, I'll be out of Charming for the foreseeable future."

Those were the words she knew would entice Gemma. Out of Charming. Out of Jax's life. They paused deeper in the office, away from the door and windows.

"You need to quit jerking around Jax. He's got-"

Rhiannon cut her off. "Enough bullshit to deal with? Yeah, same. I didn't intend for any of this to happen. We're in the same small town. We've got people in common. I've literally gone to other garages and paid out the ass to get my flats patched so I can keep myself scarce, Gemma. Believe me, if he's jerked around, it's not on me. I know you hate me for the things I've done. I know you hate me for what you've recently found out. If you want to bite my head off for that shit, fucking go for it. I've been everyone's emotional punching bag for the past two weeks. What Jax and I did, we did so we could keep our futures. If there was any other way around that, we would have found it."

And it was still a punch in the stomach to think about. Her fingers twitched towards her previously injured leg, the one she had so very nearly lost from how badly mangled it had become from road rash. When doctors said it was a good chance she could never walk again, she proved them wrong. The screech of metal meeting pavement still echoed in her ears in the middle of the night.

Even when she wanted so desperately to be done, she was still there. Six years ago with the internship was supposed to be her cut-off. Though she hadn't seen Jax, it was still that punch to the stomach every time she saw Clay or Bobby. Her stubbornness could only get her so far before it was the skin of her teeth and countless cups of coffee.

"You done with the monologue? You aborted my grandkid and didn't let anyone else have a say in the matter," Gemma stated.

"You've hated me since I was fifteen years old. You would have suddenly stopped hating me if I was Jax's baby mama? The only other person who needed a say in the matter was Jax," Rhiannon responded. For once, it felt like a weight lifted off her chest. The elephant was out of the room.

Relationships had been about sacrifice and the two of them had made a far-too-mature one without knowing the fallout. Her stubbornness had been the one thing that dragged her out from under. During the days that she had felt like she had been swallowed whole, she forced herself out of bed and made herself go to class. Even when it felt like the physical and emotional pain threatened to overwhelm her, she moved on. Even standing at TM, it felt like a long-healed wound was unceremoniously ripped open. She was right back to being that same naive teenager lurking around and waiting for her boyfriend to get off work.

"Gemma, I don't want to hurt you. I don't hate you. I don't want to hurt Jax or twist him up. I just want to get through the next few days as painlessly as possible."

She felt like she was standing before the devil and asking to make a deal. In some ways, she was. Rhiannon wanted to be done with Charming, but now it seemed as if it wasn't done with her. No matter how badly she craved distance, something was missing. She couldn't place her finger on it, something that kept her rooted in that goddamned town that couldn't seem to let her go.

In the back of her mind, she knew the something had a name.

Unfinished business.

Her rain seemed to let up when she spotted a familiar dark grey Mercedes SL300 parked in her driveway. Rhiannon knew who sat inside and it lightened the load considerably.

Persephone Wallace. Her best friend. Her true other half.

Percy's dark hair was pulled up in a messy bun, tendrils framing her pretty face as she climbed out from the car and bumped it closed with her hip. She was casually dressed in a pair of black jeans and a white muscle tank top bearing a pink car on the front, out of place for such an incredibly luxurious car. Even in casual wear and light makeup adorning her lovely skin, she wore her trademark cranberry-red lipstick.

A lightness Rhiannon hadn't felt in a long while took hold when she threw her arms around her. Leave it to Percy to take choppy text messages as a cry for help and a general "busyness" to mean she desperately needed someone.

"Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" Percy murmured in her ear as her grip tightened around her waist and drew back. "I found out from Ted that fucking Shane is here? Emmett's house was vandalized? Rae, even one of those things and I would have dropped everything I was doing to come help you. Fuck wedding planning."

"I thought I had a handle on it and it just kept piling on," Rhiannon admitted as she led her towards the front door. "I have zero proof that this is Shane doing this, but I just...I can feel it. And the fact there's two weeks until the wedding and you've been dealing with that florist nightmare. I just have to pick up my bridesmaid's dress and my rehearsal dinner dress. We're picking up your dress when I get back to San Fran."

Even if Percy had seen her at her worst, her good, bad, and ugly, introducing her to the damaged house had that flicker of self-consciousness curling in her stomach. Including the desk it had torn her apart to throw out. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. As the executor of the will, she could pay the deductible and have everything repaired, but it still hurt to know that such a beautiful desk had been ruined.

It was all the proof she required that Shane had been behind the vandalism. The cops needed more. And it hurt as much as the you have no proof and the we can't help you.

"It doesn't matter how much I've got on my plate, Rae, I've got you," Percy stated. "Psycho feds be goddamned, I don't care. I'd love to see Shane fucking Abernathy try to hurt me."

"I've seen Jax around, too. As in, crying-myself-to-sleep-for-months-ex-back-in-college, Jax."

Percy stared at her, mouth agape as she studied her. After a few minutes feeling like hours, she spoke once more. "Okay, clearly, I'm not allowed to leave you alone for five minutes. Here's what we're gonna do. I'm going to bring in the copies of Emmett's will, along with the remainder of the estate. You're going to get us food. Flynn's coming over to help in about two hours, then you are going to take a nap because as much as I love you and think you're absolutely beautiful and unbelievably wonderful, you look like the love child of the Hamburglar and a raccoon. I'm taking over so you can rest and so you can clear your mind. If there's someone needing notified about inheritance stuff, I'll wake you up. You're not seeing these people anymore, I'm your new mouthpiece."

Percy was the one person Rhiannon was sure could take on Shane without stuttering. She had done it a few times before by answering the phone and simply ending the call without missing a beat. Her way of taking care of Rhiannon in Mexico had been plying her with alcohol, introducing her to just about anyone attractive for a rebound, and taking her out on adventure after adventure to take her mind off the uncertain situation back home. Facials and massages, shopping, every day for two weeks was spent doing just about anything that sounded fun. Once back home, Percy faced down Shane.

Even when Rhiannon had no idea when the breaking point neared, Percy was there. The early days of Stanford, Percy had been there to help her pick up the pieces, to help her emotionally and physically. And in the early days of the aftermath of Percy's somewhat volatile and pretentious upbringing, Rhiannon had been there, along with the end of every bad relationship. The two had formed a pseudo family of their own at Stanford, taking in stragglers along the way.

Now the difference was that Percy had a partner to help shoulder her load. Flynn Cooper was the one person Rhiannon could trust to be a good man for her. He was equally in awe of her strength and the ferocity in which she loved and protected those closest.

Not nearly as much as her.

Rhiannon hadn't even made it through lunch before falling asleep on a sweatshirt on the floor.

Percy knelt down to collect stacks of paper from around her and stacked them neatly into piles, all the while glancing up every now and then. One paper jumped out at her when she picked it up.

I, Emmett Charles Westmoreland, of sound mind and body, leave my 1973 Dodge Ram pickup truck to Jackson Nathaniel Teller.