AN: I am new to the Mayans world, please do not hesitate to point out something I have missed, I have had such a hard time writing during this past year that I needed something to get me going again so I decided to run with the first idea for a new fanfic. I had read a few within community and I am obsessed with this idea of someone working in the scrap shop and is basically my version of that. I hope someone enjoys, this was actually fun to write and came very naturally. I'm so happy I found the show and got inspired to write this.

Chapter One

Wound

Lydia Stow had never once been described as emotional, there hadn't been a situation yet she didn't approach with calm, logical confidence that unnerved anyone who witnessed it. Her younger sister, Constance Stow, Connie for short and because it matched her better when she was younger, was only ever described as emotional. Lydia knew that this was the crux her and her sister were polar opposites on, this was how they were going to be judged in their family and among their peers. She also decided that it was bullshit and she would do all she could to make it a non-issue. Connie was over fifteen years younger than Lydia, a fact that she wasn't going to forget having recently turned forty herself, while watching Connie literally launch herself at twenty-five. The Stow Sisters was too obvious of an alliteration for either of them to fall prey to but if there was two thing's that they were exactly alike in and agreed with was how they attacked experience, age was just another weapon in the arsenal to get what one wanted and where and they would have been a punk band in another life.

That's potentially how they ended up on the road to Santo Padre, for as much distance from Los Angeles as possible, in the middle of a cool fall night in a sleek – stolen – black, Asian branded coupe, with the windows down, both taking hits from a blunt – also stolen – while they fulfilled their sisterly, polar opposite traits. Lydia was calculating her moves out down this path while jumping back to others with new ideas, she hadn't looked Bishop in the eye in over fifteen years after all. It was only a fool who expected blind loyalty like that.

While Connie had tears streaking her face and her body occasionally wracked with sobs, her knees tangled awkwardly in an attempt for warmth, one arm wrapped around her ribs and the other shakily holding the blunt. She was only wearing her party dress because she didn't listen to take the time to change when they stopped to get gas and then was too stubborn to accept extra time to do it. She had shaved her legs toe-tip to hip bone for her birthday party and now she was still speckled in Ivan's blood, every time she thought she had wiped away every spot, she found another and watched him get shot execution style right in front of her all over again. She knew the Russian mobsters that had pulled the both of them from the club dance floor that night weren't letting them live. They thought they could save a bullet and aim the bullet to go through Ivan's skull right into Connie's but they were also a little drunk and terrible at geometry and the bullet only managed to graze her neck. There were bunched up Subway napkins covering her wound, held on by antibiotic ointment – paid for – Lydia confirmed she was going to be fine until they got to their destination.

Every time the napkins made a crinkling noise in her ear, Connie jumped. Lydia sometimes would comfort her, just reaching out to hold her hand for a moment, but at the moment she was too busy thinking of a plan. Connie sometimes wanted her sister to be more like herself, just let everything fall apart just to tend to her baby sisters needs. But that wasn't Lydia, her older sister was a pragmatist and that was how she was going to get the both of them out of this situation alive.

They finally approached a sign on the highway for the first time in what felt like hours and Lydia straightened up. "Kill it, I don't want any attention."

Connie took one last drag before snuffing the cherry and flicking the roach out of the car window while Lydia rolled up the windows. "Santo Padre?" Connie asked confused as they passed the sign.

"How's your Spanish?" Lydia asked as she brushed her hair out with one hand and drove with the other.

Connie reached into her purse and pulled out a small spray bottle and doused herself, the car and Lydia in strong citrus scent to cover the smell of the blunt. "It hasn't gotten me in trouble yet." Connie answered, feeling confident in that knowledge at least.

"Lets hope it stays that way." Lydia mumbled. She looked over at her sister who was still only stubbornly wearing a tiny, nearly nothing party dress, strappy heels and the scarf that had been in the back seat of the car. "God, you look like an abandoned baby. That might help us."

One of Lydia's bad habits, in Connie's opinion at least, was how badly she was at providing details or necessary background information. She wasn't going into another life or death situation without as many facts as she could get out of her older sister. "Please explain who this is so I can help you sell this or I go in hot." Connie said threateningly.

Lydia was already getting more used to the idea of bringing Connie into the fold, but it was hard. She had been taking care of her little sister from when she was a girl and now she was a woman in her own right and it was hard to let go. "Fine." Lydia accepted peacefully. Connie looked shocked there wasn't a fight. "Bishop was there when I was in Iraq." She explained succinctly. Connie looked away awkwardly. Iraq was not a time that was ever spoken about. That was the deal. "He helped me and I helped him. Bishop heads a charter of a motorcycle club that's basically just a gang, that helps transport guns and drugs across the boarder and that's a good place to hide from Russians."

Connie leaned over the arm rest with a serious look. "Did you fuck him?"

"That's not relevant." Lydia responded rolling her eyes, trying to focus on the road and avoid crashing the car or see her blush.

The Stow sisters were always betrayed by a blush that took over their nose when they couldn't sell a lie. Lydia looked like a beacon for Santa. "You did." Connie snickered. She enjoyed seeing a part of her older sisters history where she might have had some joy in her life. "I will look like a lost little puppy that just wandered into the wrong club after school." She swore.

Lydia shook her head at her sister. "Don't go crazy with it, don't commit to a role, Constance. He doesn't know I have a sister, this was before I found you."

"God, I forget how old you are." Connie exclaimed.

Lydia turned to look at her sister with flashing eyes. "Sometimes you are lucky for the fact that they saw us together that I don't just leave you at the boarder."

Connie smiled at her sister and made a kissy face at her until she rolled her eyes. "I love you too."

Lydia sighed. She was glad that Connie was at least not crying anymore but she needed her to be serious. "I knew him when he was a military man and now he's the exact opposite. Please treat this like any other motorcycle crew you find in a bar. Try not to fuck any of them. At least while we are still working on getting your dead boyfriends murders off our tail."

"I didn't even like him that much, he just threw great parties and never stopped paying for everything. Oh and one of his security guys was a great lay." Connie groaned as she looked forlornly out the window.

In her bones Lydia felt like she was supposed to scold Connie for any part of the sentence, but they were adult sisters now and the things Lydia had managed to get out of with her life would put Connie to shame. "I can't say I wouldn't have done the same for my twenty-fifth birthday."

Lydia glanced back at her messages to see if there was anything else from Bishop. Only the address he texted her after they spoke on the phone hours ago. He hadn't been sleeping and she could tell he was stressed. She had to pull at his honor strings to agree and he did not want to. It didn't take long once they were off the highway to find the home. It was a nondescript home in a decent enough area with a sleek older, black Lincoln in the drive way parked away from the garage. Lydia parked on the street. She knew better than to limit her ways out of a situation.

"This is it." Lydia said nodding to the home on the right of them while texting Bishop she had arrived but before she hit send her sister clicked her tongue and Lydia looked up to see a familiar form standing outside of the house, away from the front door, closer to the street looking stern.

"Oh, he's hot in that grumpy, rugged kinda way." Connie said nudging her sister.

Lydia looked away. She didn't want to spectate Bishop through a stolen car window. He deserved much more than that. "Constance, please do not fuck any of them." Lydia said flatly. This was something Lydia needed to state expressly with Connie on a fairly regular basis, and even more so now.

Connie made a face. She was a lover and she was also an opportunist. "I will only fuck one and I promise it won't be him." She swore.

Lydia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. It wasn't ideal but it would at least keep Bishop out of her sisters path of sexual advances. "Deal."

Stepping out of the car first, Lydia was aware that after driving for hours she looked disheveled to say the least, she had been at the tail end of a ten hour work day when she got the frantic call from her sister to begin with. Lydia made it out of Iraq, under her mothers grasp, all those years ago to open a private investigative firm. It was the most legit work she could have while not being beholden to every rule and law. She opened up the firm with her uncle, making leaving in the middle of the night more manageable and a possibility that had been planned out and practically expected. She had already left Uncle Ted a voicemail with the coded message of what was happening but with the barest of details. She didn't want anyone else implicated in what was going to be happening from this point on.

Bishop stood waiting for her on the sidewalk in front of his home with his arms tight across his chest, tensed and on edge. She could make out all of the lines on his face even in the darkness as he looked at her with strained, soulful eyes. Lydia was surprised that a thick mustache would be able to stir anything within her, but she was unbearably drawn in. "Lyd, this better be good." Bishop grumbled, shaking her from her thoughts.

This new Bishop was close to what Lydia had been preparing herself for, but she still found that softness in his eyes and she knew she had a chance. Before she could speak, the passenger door opened and Connie stood up as awkwardly as a newborn giraffe after the hours drive. "Bishop, meet my younger sister Constance." Lydia said quickly as she looked back to Bishop and saw his eyes wide and confused. "Found out Mary was in fact not done having children and left one in the system while I was on my dutiful daughter tour of the world and came back to find Connie after I was flagged by customs almost fourteen years ago."

Connie walked up to Lydia's side shivering in her tiny shift dress that barely covered her bits with tiny spaghetti straps falling lamely on her shoulders with only Lydia's scarf to try and keep warm. "You got out of that fine it seems." Bishop commented.

Lydia shrugged. "I'm resourceful."

Bishop snorted. "Is that what this is?" He asked irritated.

There wasn't a moment that Lydia believed Bishop a stupid man, he was the opposite. He wasn't going to be swept up in big speeches or damsel in distress to fall at his feet. He wanted the honest truth. "I need a favor, Bishop." Lydia said quietly with pleading eyes. This was the truth, she really was desperate. Bishop sighed through his nose before motioning his arm toward his front door.

Bishop had made sure his dogs were locked away before he let the sisters in his home. They were particular about the women they were introduced to, due to the past abuse they had suffered before he adopted them about four years earlier. It would be a smoother night if they weren't part of the equation. Inside, right at the foyer Bishop kept the sisters with only the light of the small light fixture above their heads while the rest of his home was dark and quiet.

He stood with his stance wide and his arms firm at his sides. He was trying to appear stern and not fall into the wiles that he knew the elder Stow sister possessed. "What happened?" Bishop pressed.

Lydia didn't hesitate to begin to answer. "Turns out my sister's boy-toy had a – conflict – with the Russians and he got executed in front of her at her birthday party no less." She wasn't going to give Bishop more than he needed because she only needed him to watch out for Connie, she was going to handle this herself and she didn't need him pulled into any trouble.

Bishop's jaw clenched. "Russians aren't sloppy, how did you get out?" He asked with a suspicious brow.

Connie was warming up now that she was inside, but she was still shivering heavily. "They were drunk and missed their first shot. I'm small and weaseled my way outta there to my sister." Her teeth chattered so much while she spoke she sounded like she was in pain.

He looked at Connie like she was a lost puppy that had just gotten dumped in the gutter in front of his eyes. "Lyd's a good person to have in a pinch." Bishop said, softening up.

Lydia took half a step toward him. "You are also a good person to have in a pinch."

Bishop growled under his breath. "My life is very different now, you don't know what I'm in the middle of."

"I know it might be dangerous, but she is good on her feet and can keep herself out of heat. I need her somewhere the Russians won't look to find her while I go fix this. Somewhere I know someone can help her out if she absolutely needs it." Lydia continued to beg without mercy.

Bishop had more points to make. He had already spent the time fleshing out his potential arguments with Lydia while he waited for her to arrive before he even knew about the option of her having a sister. He wasn't unprepared or nervous about confronting Lydia but seeing her tenderly reach out for her little sisters stray hairs and tuck them behind her ear made it hard to remember why he was going to say no when he was faced with Lydia in the flesh. More than any of that, he knew he'd hate himself for the rest of his life he didn't at least try and repay her for what she did for him in Iraq. "Fine, but you listen to everything I say, got it?" Bishop said to Connie with a pointed finger.

Connie took in a shuddered breath. "I can do that, I'm sorry I fucked everything up again." She said shaking her head, turning her body toward Lydia.

Lydia had a small smile as she shook her head and reached out to touch the napkins still stuck to Connie's neck. "Its just extra spice in our lives. I'm just glad that bullet missed." She said earnestly as she pulled the napkin away from the wound to inspect the damage in proper light rather than a grimy gas station bathroom.

Connie was going to have a hell of a scar with or without stitches. She didn't need them but it wouldn't hurt. It wasn't a small bullet that grazed her. Neither Stow women were at all distraught by scars. Connie had a knot of a scar that started in her hairline and down the side of her head from getting thrown into a wall, years and years ago from before she had a big sister to protect her. Lydia had three scars from bullets alone, and they were the smallest of the scars she had suffered. This injury wasn't going to shake either of them.

Bishop cursed in Spanish but it was too fast for Lydia or Connie to catch enough to translate after he glanced over Lydia's head to see the wound. "Jesus, I'll get my kit." He mumbled as he walked away toward his garage.

Connie gripped Lydia's arm in a panic, making the older woman scoff. "Its not that bad, its just gooey and bloody." Lydia huffed.

Connie hadn't relaxed and she was busy taking in the points of the home that Lydia had trained her to. Lydia was sad that she had to present the world this way to Connie, but it was how she got away from actual murderers. So, she knew she at least did the right thing, even if it felt like Connie was cheated from a normal life.

Lydia squeezed Connie's arm. "You can trust him. He owes me, to be fair I still owe him as well, he has a few good reasons to keep us alive."

"You should fuck him again then." Connie whispered back.

"Connie, I love you, but you need to stop talking about my sex life so much. Its really concerning." Lydia said seriously.

"Don't you want to be happy with someone?" Connie asked sadly, painfully, and desperate to know.

Lydia was never able to open the door to her emotions like Connie was. She would go in there, obviously they were her own emotions. But others didn't need to go in there. They could borrow emotions and return them like a library. Others got to gain whatever knowledge or experience from Lydia and then leave. No one took pieces of her. She didn't think anyone had but she held onto Bishops name far longer than she needed to. She kept his name close to her. "Stop making heart eyes, we're adults now." Lydia snapped.

Connie sighed in anguish. "And its really sad."

The door Bishop had disappeared behind opened again and he returned carrying a small plastic case. "Sorry, I'm usually at the club, didn't know where I left it. Come on, I have an extra room." He said motioning toward the hallway.

Bishop led them to a room with just a queen size bed and a TV on a dresser. It was exactly what they needed at the moment. Lydia made Connie sit on the bed and took the kit from Bishop and started looking through it. Seeing Connie still shivering, Bishop pulled an extra blanket from one of the drawers in the room and put it around her shoulders, wordlessly. Connie still thanked him as she curled up in the blanket while she held onto the napkins waiting for her sister. Once Lydia had her materials, she cleaned up the graze, making butterfly stitches work for the night at least. Finally free from the loose hold of the Subway napkins, Connie finally relaxed a little positioned herself against the pillows in the warmth of the blanket.

"Can I have some water?" Connie asked while she tenderly touched the stripe of gauze pad along her neck.

"Yeah," Bishop said looking ashamed that he hadn't already thought of that and quickly left the room.

Lydia was waiting for an organic moment alone with Bishop and jumped on it. "Stay here," she whispered harshly to Connie who stuck her tongue out at her sister as she left.

With all of the trash from the bandaging in her hands, Lydia followed Bishop to his kitchen. He was getting a bottle of water from his fridge and jumped to look at her when she dropped the trash into the trash bin.

"Just need to wash my hands." Lydia said holding up her blood stained hands.

He sighed and nodded his head toward the sink. Lydia walked over to the sink and started washing her hands. Bishop stood where he was for the time being.

"You two are close." He commented to fill the silence with something before he took to cataloging every feature of the woman in his kitchen.

Lydia glanced over her shoulder to Bishop, there were unasked questions on his face, in his eyes, how he stood like an animal ready to run from danger or attack at any time. He was on guard for himself, who else was going to be. She couldn't blame him. "I raised her, I wasn't going to let Mary get her hands on another child to ruin."

"Does she know how we met?" He asked seriously.

There were many reasons for Bishop to be afraid of anyone knowing what happened in Iraq and Lydia wasn't going to undermine his fear. "She knows we met in Iraq. She knows what I was doing in Iraq." She answered as much as she could. There was a lot about that time she did not want to revisit.

"So, she got the Lydia version." He chuckled knowingly.

She finished rinsing her hands off, turned the tap off and turned to take the hand towel from the side of the sink. "Whats that mean?" Lydia asked curiously as she dried her hands. There weren't many people who had any insight into Lydia like Bishop had, he was with her side by side for months during an impossible time in her life. She was genuinely curious about what he gleaned from her.

Bishop was unnerved at Lydia's curious gaze, she wasn't bating him. She was interested in his opinion. He didn't let his nerves get the better of him. "Your analysis of the situation and none of the small details that might have mattered." He snapped at her, a little more harshly then he meant to.

It wasn't an unfair assessment of the Lydia he knew. But it wasn't true now, having to raise an eleven year old out of the blue makes for personal growth. She waited a few years but she eventually explained everything to Connie so she could fully understand what happened. "We've talked about what happened to me and how I was treated there, but she doesn't know about you. I kept you secret, like I promised."

Bishop stepped closer to her, his arms crossed over his chest again, a little awkwardly with the water bottles while looking like an intimidating tactic but really he was protecting himself from her. He was not stupid enough to keep his hands free around her. "Until now."

Lydia shrugged easily and took a mimicking step to close the rest of the space between them. Intimidation didn't work well on Lydia, she liked calling bluffs too much to pretend she was scared of what men could do to her. They had no idea what she could do to them. "It was my sisters life, I made a choice."

Being only five-and-a-half-feet tall like her sister, heels were a weapon to Lydia. These ones were shorter but she only needed to be able to look Bishop in the eye, this wasn't a power move. It was to stir nostalgia. Looking at Bishop at perfect eye level was just another way to remind him of all those years ago and she wanted that feeling to make him more apt to help her. Bishop was breathing harder than he had been and he finally broke eye contact by running his fingers through his hair. "I would have done the same." He admitted with a sigh.

Appealing to his loyalty seemed to be doing the trick. There wasn't any further reason for them to be standing in the kitchen. Lydia's hands were dry. Bishop was clutching a water bottle in each hand. It was a game of chicken that neither of them truly wanted to end but Lydia wasn't going to trust Connie alone this long. Her little sister's survival instincts would start kicking in and soon she would just start blindly stealing. But Lydia wasn't going to have another moment like this with Bishop. Eventually they would leave this spot and they would never have the moment again. It was simply what time took from them. So, she very gently put her fingers on his cheek and held onto his arm with the other while she kissed his cheek as tenderly as she could before letting go and walking back toward the room, knowing they both needed a moment away from each other.

It took Bishop a minute to gather himself. He was still locked in place by the fact that he had held his phone in his hands a few hours ago and promised himself he wouldn't let this happen. He was already lying to himself. The water bottles were condensing in his hands and he realized he had been standing alone for a little too long. He walked back down the hall and found the bedroom door still open, waiting for him. He sighed and walked back into the room to find Connie sitting forward on the bed and Lydia sitting at her feet on the bed.

He handed the waters to them before taking a step back, he wasn't trying to get comfortable at the moment. "Bathroom is across the hall. There are spare clothes in the drawers. My room on the other side of the house. Be prepared to meet my dogs in the morning, they might be just your size." Bishop chuckled to Connie as he closed the door.

Connie looked at her sister in confusion. "Prepared?"

"Big pit-bulls, I saw pictures of them in the house and he always kept dogs. Even on the base. Never surprise dog owners." Lydia commented seriously.

Connie hadn't thought about it before but her sister was right, like she usually was. "Good rule." She admitted as she stood up from the bed. "Think I can shower with this?" She asked touching the tape on her neck.

"Yeah, you're fine." Lydia confirmed as she took her shoes off. Connie decided it was time to put on more clothes than what she was wearing and get the blood off of her once and for all.

One of Connie's favorite things in life was going through other peoples drawers just to see how they kept their things, what was supposed to be in the drawers or hung up or just away from prying eyes. What needed to be hidden. It was her favorite social experiment. Looking through the drawers of Bishop she could immediately see his military training. Everything was folded, neatly and presented proudly. He was the kind of man that showed care to even the things few people would see. Lydia was weak for soft men, it was all starting to make sense.

Peeking through the pile was a faded black tee that was still soft to the touch. Connie snatched it and held it up to look at the logo. "Mayans?"

"His motorcycle club." Lydia answered nodding toward the door where Bishop had been standing. She didn't bring up to either of them that she had emailed her assistant to pull up anything she could find on Obispo Losa in ten minutes and email it to only her before getting rid of the files and never speaking about it again. Rachel was a fantastic assistant and was just as nosy as her while also being annoyed with the law. The file was a cursory over view but it gave Lydia all of the foresight she would need with Bishop.

Connie put the shirt to the side for Lydia to wear. It didn't feel right for her to wear it over her sister. She took the faded blue Corona shirt waiting underneath for herself. "Is this club a big deal?" Connie asked starting to panic a little.

Connie knew that there were real gangs tied to motorcycle clubs but she didn't feel like she was in the home of a hardened criminal when she closed the shirt drawer to pull the pants drawer and found more precisely folded clothes. But she knew better than to be surprised by people anymore.

Connie took two pairs of black sweat pants and handed the Mayans shirt with a pair to her sister. "Maybe." Lydia answered as made a face at the shirt in her hands. She knew what her sister was playing at. The game was already afoot and this might be laying it on too thick but she didn't reject it.

"Do I need a gun?" Connie asked with her fists on her hips, her shirt and pants slung on her shoulder. Connie was very lucky in her ability to not get shot but her shooting was piss poor on a good day.

"No, but you need to befriend the closest person to you with a gun." Lydia answered quickly, this was a trick that saved her more times then she cared to admit.

"Can we have a vacation after this?" Connie asked annoyed.

"Maybe." Lydia didn't like to make promises she couldn't keep.

"Why are you answering with so many maybes?" Connie huffed throwing her arms up.

"Because I don't know whats going to be required to get out of this." Lydia answered honestly and sternly.

Connie looked down at her feet, partly in shame and understanding of the gravity of the situation. "New rule after this, no more Russians." She said as she reached out to touch a loose lock of her older sisters hair, something she often did to calm herself.

"We'll leave it open to review." Lydia offered with a smile.

Connie accepted the response and turned to leave the room to take the shower she wanted. Lydia took the time to change into the clothes that were chosen for her. The clothes didn't have the same scent that Bishop carried with him, but it was still something familiar. Something safe. Sitting on the bed, under the covers barely watching the Discovery Channel, she waited for Connie to finish with her shower so she wouldn't be alone with the fact that Bishop was on the other side of the house.

She respected the dogs but they weren't enough to keep her away on their own. What she did have respect for was Bishop's privacy, she didn't have the right to force her way into his room just because he pointed it out. She had done enough forcing her problems into his home. Being alone and able to rest for the first time since she got the call from her sister, Lydia got to process her thoughts.

There was a primal moment she knew she would go to Bishop first, before Uncle Ted, her other distant family members, or any of the professionals she worked with that could help her in this pinch. Hearing Connie sobbing on the phone, not a new experience for Lydia, but hearing her sister frantic, viscerally screaming about what had happened, the elder Stow was filled with a panic that hadn't vexed her in years. The only thought that came to mind was one name, Bishop. She needed someone who would only do exactly what Lydia needed and only Lydia. And if someone could give that to her it was going to be Bishop. She had yet to come up with a back up if anything fell through with Bishop. She wasn't all that surprised, he had always been one of a kind.

Suddenly every point on her body that the shirt touched felt like it was on fire, burning from an embarrassment she hadn't felt in years. He always managed to get the strongest feelings out of her. She knew wearing this shirt in front of Bishop was going to be a low blow but it would be an effective hit. Her first priority was keeping her sister alive, then everyone else, herself included, would get sorted out. There was something about the shirt that made her want to hold onto it. She wouldn't, she knew better to bring something back that could point anyone to her sister. But it was going to be hard to leave behind.

After all, so was Bishop.

AN: Review!