HI MY RAVENS. Finally, the update you've all been waiting for… Season 2 has officially begun! Before we get started, I have a surprise for you all! I am going to be releasing an independent trilogy! It won't be for quite some time, but I'm finally trying my hand at self publishing😅 Though it won't be fanfic, it WILL still be an MC romance - I can't stray TOOOO far from my roots😅 I've made myself an Instagram account for all of my work (m. s. alexis), so if you would like to support me as an author, I would greatly appreciate it! I will be posting ARAC updates, teasers, Q&A's, opportunities for input, etc. I hope you all enjoy the rollercoaster that is season 2 as much as I've enjoyed planning it ❤️

aravenamongcrows on Tumblr! (ask and submissions are open!)

General trigger warnings for this story: Language, smut, mentions of rape, abuse, drug use/overdose, violence/death.


CHAPTER 1: BLURRED LINES

2 months later…

;

Sydney soared down the highway with a grin on her face beneath her helmet as the cool breeze of the late October air whipped her lightened hair against her leather covered back. She allowed her eyes to fall closed for a few seconds, focusing on nothing but the rumbling of her Ninja below her, and the roaring of the Harleys beside her.

She reveled in the moment of pure, unadulterated peace - something that she'd known nothing of over the past few months - finally prying her eyes open once she was sure that she'd pushed her limits to the last possible second.

But the sliver of relief - of feeling like she belonged - was not snuffed out as easily as she'd become accustomed to, instead it was supplemented by the dirt path that came into view as her green eyes painfully adjusted to the sunlight that was pouring out from beyond the evergreen covered hills, getting brighter by the second.

Her smile returned as she leant her body forward, revving her engine as her trusty street bike propelled her far ahead of the clunky Dynas that followed in her wake.

;

Piney pulled into the circular drop-off of Charming Elementary with a groan, throwing his old Cadillac into park and heaving a sigh as he turned his aging body around to face the backseat where Ellie and Kenny were each tugging at a strap of the backpack that they shared.

"I'm holding it! I'm the man!" Kenny whined as he tried to keep his grip.

"Well I'm older!" Ellie put her entire body into the swift pull, yanking the dark blue napsack from his tiny, eight year-old hands.

"Will you two quit horsing around?" Piney scolded half-heartedly, but as he gazed upon the terrified faces of his grandchildren, guilt flooded him. His eyes fell closed and he turned back around, sorrowfully swiping his hand down his face. He could play grandpa just fine - grumpy and indifferent - but, just as he had all of those years ago, he was struggling to take on the role of a father. And the only way to rid himself of the responsibility that he had never been able to fully accept, was to avenge their mother - something that Jax had been making it damn near impossible for him to do.

Ellie shared a look with her brother, immediately releasing the strap that she'd taken into a death grip before reaching for the door handle.

"Are you picking us up, gramps?" Kenny questioned as he slid across the buttery beige leather and followed Ellie out the open door.

"I don't know… We'll see." Piney sighed. He could hardly believe that he'd managed to get them to school, he couldn't fathom the thought of getting them from school too.

"I love you." Ellie told him sweetly as she leaned her head full of thick, long, dirty blonde hair into the window and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"See you, sweetheart." The disgrace didn't allow him to smile at her, and though Kenny was young, Piney could tell by the discretionary look on his face that he was onto him.

He sighed at his grandson - so wise, so much like his son. "You take care of your sister, kid. You hear me?" He told him pointedly. Someone had to.

"Okay, gramps." Kenny gave a curt nod before taking off towards the school yard after her .

;

Tig stood with his feet apart and his hips forward as he assumed the position along with the rest of his crew, looking down the line at Clay who lifted his gun and began firing, starting a chain reaction. He closed his eyes as he lifted his sample weapon to do the same, but he quickly realized that, as he wielded the exact model that he had killed Donna with not three months earlier, he would need to keep his eyes open for this. He needed to see what he was shooting. He needed to be sure.

The rapid fire of gunshots piercing the autumn air was finally something that no longer sent Sydney into a PTSD induced panic. It was a feeling that - like many others - she'd missed; the spark of excitement in her nerves rather than the fearful jolt, the giddy skip in her heart rather than the dreadful sinking that she'd become a slave to in the time since she'd relocated to the small town that had flipped her entire world upside down.

The satisfactory twitch of her lips eventually turned to a smile as the rain of bullets projecting from her machine gun ripped through the target against the stacks of timber outside of the warehouse - then a grin, then, eventually, a maniacal laugh as the rush of reclamation crashed through her dormant veins.

The stoic look on Tig's face as he fired into his own target without a single blink behind his sunglasses began to soften as he looked over at Sydney, who had turned to look at him. He shook his head with a bashful smile, only she could manage to bring even a single ray lightness to something so heavy. But even that angelic beacon couldn't completely wash away the bleak reality of the situation - that something that used to feel so good in his hand, now felt so bad. He sucked in a deep breath as he pulled his eyes away from her perfectly healed face before it could morph into Donna's - the dreadful sight that he knew would come even easier in the current predicament - pushing through the last rounds in the magazine until it was finally empty, not bothering to replace it with a fresh one the way that she and Jax had been eager to do.

"Sack!" He blindly hollered to the prospect, not bothering to look around and properly locate him. "New targets! Put em up, put em up!" He ordered - knowing that his demand would be obeyed by the desperate kid whether he witnessed it or not.

"So what do you think, gentleman?" Cameron squinted in the sun that was still low in the sky on the crisp, Wednesday morning - tossing Sydney an apologetic glance for the way that the common phrase had ignorantly rolled off of his tongue.

Jax nodded slowly, untellingly, his blue eyes squinting as well - but the expression had nothing to do with shielding himself from the early morning rays.

Clay bit his tongue as he watched Jax's smug indifference in the face of the suppliers that their entire operation revolved around. "Alright, let's talk!" He was thankful to be wearing sunglasses so that the roll of his eyes couldn't be seen as he summoned the rest of his crew inside.

Sydney and Tig exchanged a knowing glance as they too bit their tongues - an action that their collective sensitive organs had needed to build a thick skin to endure in the few months that Jax had spent taking full advantage of the blackmail that he had on all three of them.

Tig exhaled as he began following the masses into the warehouse, but with each step that he took away from the bitter reminder of the weight of his mistake, the louder the voices in the back of his mind got. In the matter of seconds he heard himself being called every name in the book by the voices of his mother, his father, of Juliet, of Donna.

His eyes fell shut as he turned back towards the fresh targets that Half-Sack was in the middle of trying to hang, doing the one thing that had always saved his life while simultaneously running it further into the ground - pulling the trigger.

"Okay!" Half-Sack howled when he turned around to see Tig - of course Tig was the one fucking with him. Ever since he had overstepped his boundaries with Sydney - and somehow escaped the beating of a lifetime - Tig had taken any and every opportunity that he could to assert his dominance over the shrimpy prospect who had never intended on usurping his position in the first place.

Chibs chuckled as he looked back from his kin to see Tig terrorizing his prospect; an activity that, as his sponsor, he felt a duty to partake in - lifting his own gun and firing off a few rogue rounds in the direction of the terrified kid.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" Half-Sack yelled as he tried to shield himself against the shower of bullets lodging themselves into the piles of wood all around him, looking to Sydney who stood cackling between Tig and Chibs as they continued firing. "Tell them to stop!" He screamed until the air finally went dead around him, his eyes focusing through the dust on the two men - but only Chibs wore a playful smile. Tig's expression was ice cold.

"Yeah, way to go!" He chose to acknowledge the cheerful man instead - the man that he was more confident wasn't actually trying to kill him. "You're gonna blow off my one last nut. Great sponsor."

Sydney chuckled, shaking her head as Half-Sack zipped past them, mumbling something about how their antics weren't funny - reaching back where her outstretched fingers eventually wrapped around Tig's. She raised her brows and widened her eyes slightly to bring him back to earth as the cool metal of his rings pressed against the warmth of her skin. Although she couldn't see them behind his dark shades, she knew that his eyes had softened - just as they had every other time that they'd shared this interaction since the accident.

Once everybody was inside the warehouse, they gathered around one of the long makeshift tables - a slab of wood laid across four fold out chairs - where the crates full of automatics were waiting for them.

Sydney felt her lips purse and her eyes widen in surprise once she saw them - crate, after crate, after crate. She pulled her pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her leather jacket which she wore much more comfortably in the cooler weather - quickly sliding one between her lips and sparking up before anybody could address one of the many elephants in the room.

Normally, a fully stocked warehouse would be a good thing - but with the still present threat of ATF and a still dry market of buyers willing to work with them, it seemed like a liability. And by the looks on the faces of her fellow crew members, they felt the same.

"Russian pipeline has dried up." Cameron explained the absence of AKs in the shipment of new guns with his head down as he wedged a screwdriver into the side of the crate and pried the top off - as if he could feel the protests that were about to come against what he was trying to pull. "Hooked up with a source out of Jabalia." He continued as he pulled out one of the many unloaded MAC-10s and passed it to the outlaw President.

"How do these break down to ship?" Clay scowled as he lifted his sunglasses onto the top of his head.

"They don't." Cameron told him with as much conviction as he could muster, not allowing himself to meet the weary eyes of his son - he needed to keep his composure. He needed to land this deal for them. "They come assembled."

"That aint our business!" Tig shook his head incredulously.

"I know." Cameron nodded firmly.

Sydney felt her teeth clamping down on the end of her cigarette in anticipation, threatening to snap the filter as the ongoing confrontation resurfaced. She hadn't liked McKeevy because he hadn't respected her, but at least he had respected her crew, and over the last few months she had lost the ability to say the same for Cameron. As conditions worsened in Ireland, he became more desperate - more greedy; offering them promises that were too good to be true and always seemed to come with a catch.

"Where're you going with this, Cam?" Clay raised a brow.

"True IRA's pickin up momentum. North country's getting hot - need to step up the cash flow, keep the anger focused."

Sydney, Tig, and Clay weren't the only ones who had gotten an extensive, hands-on lesson in controlling their expressions this year as Jax listened to the selfish piece of shit relay his bullshit pitch that did nothing to benefit them and everything to benefit himself - which was only made more evident by the fact that he'd found it necessary to take the extremely risky trip overseas to sell it in person.

"You want the Sons to run em?" He nodded to the bald man. He didn't care if direct delivery was riskier, if it meant more runs - more time away from his son. If it was what Clay didn't want, then it was what he did - and that was the power that came with being Vice President.

Edmund Hayes nodded to the man whom he was closer in age with - jumping eagerly at the glimpse of hope that Jackson Teller provided their cause. "Northern Cali, Oregon, Washington-"

"I don't know if you heard." Clay cut him off. "But we got outta the errand business sometime back." He widened his eyes at Cameron who had surely been briefed by McKeevy on the extent of their predicament. "We buy wholesale, we assemble, we sell retail. End of story."

"Yep." Tig nodded his assurance. There was no way that he could risk going to prison the way that Clay and JT had back in the day - not now, not with his priors, not when he had Sydney. And letting her go to prison - even though she would face a much lighter sentence - wasn't something that he was about to let happen, either.

Cameron stared hard into the deep blue eyes of the much bigger man that scared him shitless. "Come on, Clay." He kept the smug expression on his face - the only facade that had even the slightest possibility of getting him this deal. "We both know you've still got an ATF target on your back. You really think it's safe filling this space with illegal gun parts?"

"That's what we got it for." Sydney chimed in.

"One tail leads them right back here." Cameron countered.

"And one pat down finds fully assembled AR's on half a charter of paroled members." She scoffed in return, watching the man shrink down before Jax lifted him right back up.

"What's the deal?" He asked, his smirk twitching as Clay's eyes narrowed at him from across the table.

"We sell, ship, store. You load your saddlebags and deliver - charter to charter. I'll give you twenty percent."

Juice couldn't hold back the snicker as he heard the joke of a deal - if it could even be called that. "We get sixty percent when we assemble our own?" Clay's scowl deepened.

"We carry all of the risk - all of the overhead." Edmund was quick to counter this time.

Cameron felt a small sense of relief. They were on the same page. "My son will be your point guy in Cali." He nodded to Edmund. "This is a win-win, Clay." He shifted his gaze from the stubborn and insulted President, to the much more open-minded VP - letting it linger for a second. "We'll let you talk it through."

"That's bullshit." Chibs was the first to admit the second that they were hopefully out of earshot - but his longtime relationship with the Hayes' gave him the family pass to trash talk them. "They've still got access to the Russian surplus - AKs that we need. They're just tryin to stonewall us so we'll play along, the Mick pricks."

Juice shook his head with a sigh. "He's not wrong about the feds… It doesn't matter what dummy corp we use, or how far off the grid we are - if ATF puts a tail on any of us, we're gonna lead em right back here."

"It's a risk that we've always taken." Sydney shook her head.

Clay thought about his next move very carefully. "What do you think, VP?" He looked to his stepson thoughtfully, wondering if some reverse psychology might save him from another lengthy stint in Stockton State Penitentiary.

Jax was taken aback by Clay's unexpected trust in his judgement - the judgment that he wasn't using. He exhaled through his nostrils as he looked down at the pavement beneath his white shoes, taking a second to separate his head from his heart. "Go get the Irish." He nodded to Juice.

"Yeah." The eager man confirmed as he skipped out the door.

Clay wondered if his move had been the right one, keeping his hardened gaze fixed on the back wall until he finally stole a glance at his VP's unreadable expression - something that the younger man had mastered as of late.

Sydney watched the exchange with a crease in her forehead, the dwindling end of her cigarette burning against the tips of her fingers until she finally snapped out of it - dropping the butt to the ground and grinding it under the heel of her boot.

"You come to a decision, boys?" Cameron called from behind Juice as they re-entered the building with Edmund in tow.

Jax looked between Clay, and the Irishman. "Yeah." He nodded, leaning against his palms on the table filled with hardware. "You get us the Russian guns that we need to keep our Oakland business intact - we run that as usual. As for all of these." He gestured to the plethora of MAC-10s that they so desperately wanted them to take. "We use your facility to store and assemble - then we'll run them up the coast."

Clay stared daggers into his VP, watching as he waltzed around the side of the table until he was standing directly across from him - at the other head.

"But." Jax continued, looking directly into Clay's eyes as he spoke to Cameron. "MC Pony Express is gonna cost you thirty percent." He crossed his arms smugly.

Edmund matched Jax's smugness with his own as his father whispered their counter offer in his ear - but he knew that it didn't matter what number they settled on. All that mattered was that they were going to settle.

"Twenty five." He raised his thick brow in challenge.

"Twenty eight… And the Russian stock."

To say that Sydney was mindblown would have been an understatement. She found herself, for the first time in months, remembering why Jax had been given that Vice President's flash - and it wasn't just by right of survivorship. When he was able to shove all of the bullshit aside, he was one of the smartest men that she had ever met - not smart enough to scare her, but smart enough for her to wish that they were able to see eye to eye in a way that allowed him to set their personal differences aside, because together, they could make this charter unstoppable.

"Okay." Cameron appeared as reluctant as he could as he agreed to the deal that he hardly thought would land.

Sydney could tell that Clay and the others were weary - whether because of the tense atmosphere, or because of the deal itself. "It keeps us in business til the heat wears off." She nodded her support. She needed to prove to Jax that she was just doing what she had always done - what he refused to believe she had always done; what was best for the club.

Jax looked at the conniving little blonde cautiously as she backed him - wondering what it was she was playing at, but he nodded in return, nonetheless. If he could've had anyone on his side in this moment that he found himself in an intense staredown with Tig and Clay - he was glad that it was Sydney.

"Call a vote, Pres." Jax sneered through his smirk, and that was when Sydney understood what was really going on - that this wasn't about the club at all, this was, once again, about the one thing that had always ruled the stepfather-stepson duo: power.

"All in favor?" Clay grumbled in a tone that oozed defeat - the low statement hardly coming out as a question. But he didn't bother looking around to count the number of hands that raised behind him, keeping his disapproving eyes on Jax as he stormed off. He knew what the answer was.

;

David Hale waltzed cautiously into the Charming Diner where he had been summoned by his brother - an occasion that, these days, has crossed over the line of rarity and into the territory of concerning. He quickly recognized the back of Jacob's head - that thick, dark hair that was just bordering on grey. He slowly made his way over to the round booth where he sat with two men that he had never seen before, which, for a small town cop, was strange. Definitely concerning.

"-must be very frustrating, Mr. Hale." A grey-haired man in a suit nodded as he skimmed over a manilla folder.

"Every surrounding town from Stockton to Lodi has grown nearly seventy percent in the last two decades."

David fought the urge to roll his eyes as he caught the end of the conversation that he'd had to endure his entire life from his father, and now from his brother.

"Except Charming." The clean-cut man added pointedly, sliding the folder back to Jacob while his bald-headed counterpart stayed silent next to him.

Jacob Hale nodded with his eyes widening, glad that somebody finally seemed to understand what it was that he was getting at. "SAMCRO has sabotaged every major development effort that's come through Charming - coercion and violence."

"Easy to do when the local cops are in your pocket." The man with a DIY buzz cut finally spoke.

"Uh huh…" David finally announced his presence, watching the eagerness of the man fade as his eyes fell to the badge that he wore proudly on his chest.

"Uh." Jacob looked awkwardly between his little brother and his new friends. "Gentlemen, this is my kid brother, David Hale. He'll be Chief once the year is up - things are gonna change."

David cringed at the confident declaration of his older brother, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the tone that bled expectation - as it always had - or because if that expectation was one that he was no longer certain he could meet.

"David, I'd like you to meet Ethan Zobelle." The sharp man stuck his hand out for a handshake. "And AJ Weston." The man with the poorly shaved head stepped forward next.

David shook both of their hands before he eased into the booth next to his brother, his blue gaze lingering on the strange new men that he for some reason had a bad feeling about.

"Can I get ya anything, David?" A friendly voice snapped him out of the tense, one-sided stare down.

"Just coffee, Anna." He leant back in his seat, tilting his head up towards the dark haired waitress that had been serving him almost as long as Doreen had.

"You got it." She nodded with a smile.

"So… What's this about, Jake?" David raised a brow.

"I reached out to your family." Zobelle interjected. "Asked for an introduction."

Jacob breathed a sigh of relief when he was let off the hook for having to perfectly deliver the fabricated cover to his ever-so-suspicious younger brother. "Ethan owns cigar shops." He nodded.

David's brows crinkled - the explanation providing him absolutely no relevant information as to what this had to do with him or his brother.

"Stockton, Milbrae, Alameda." Jacob continued.

David nodded along as he tried to get a proper read on the situation, but he was getting two completely different vibes from what his brother was telling him, and what the men before him were showing him. "You planning on opening up a shop here in Charming?" He surmised as best he could, though he still felt that there had to be more than just a prospective business venture to warrant a white collar meeting with two of the town's top political figures.

"I have my eye on a storefront." Zobelle nodded.

"We'll need to know that we've got the right support before we commit to Charming." Weston leaned in, speaking slowly as if he was talking to a child.

"Support?" David was lost again.

"To protect our investment."

Yet again, the two men did nothing to help him get back on track.

"We're aware of your outlaw problem." Zobelle clarified for the horribly confused man in front of him that, if he had the correct mindset, he could see being a perfect fit for his daughter. "Your brother has brought me up to speed on your struggle."

David looked over at Jacob who sat frozen - like he had just been caught red-handed. "I'm guessing this isn't about cigars…" He sighed.

Jacob blinked a few times as he tried desperately to figure out how he could help get his brother on board with this plan - how he could make him see that this would benefit both of them. "Ethan shares a common interest." He began carefully.

"The Sons of Anarchy have been supplying weapons to gang members for over a decade, it's time it stopped." Zobelle fed the incriminating accusations to the cop who he hoped was as hungry for them as his brother had told him he would be.

David looked down at the business card that Weston was sliding across the table to him, noting the sporadically placed identifying symbols that were tattooed all over his arms that tried to hide in the white button-down that he wore with a black tie. "League of American Nationalists…" He plucked the blindingly white piece of cardstock off of the speckled surface and read it aloud as a smirk came to his face - he had been right to trust his intuition afterall.

"The League represents an influential group of businessmen who are tired of criminals undermining local enterprise." Zobelle worded his explanation to the skeptical man as strategically as he could.

"Right…" David gave a theatrical nod. "And how many black and latino businessmen are there in your 'influential group'?"

"Here you go, David." Anna returned with his coffee at the perfect time - cutting the mounting tension once again as Zobelle stared at him guiltily from across the table.

"None." Zobelle finally answered after a long pause.

"None." David confirmed, his gaze shifting to Weston. "I know who you are - white hate."

"Quite the opposite, Deputy Chief." Zobelle responded calmly. "We are separatists, not supremacists."

Jacob jerked his neck uncomfortably as Zobelle tried to convince his irritatingly smart brother of something that he knew he couldn't be convinced of - he was too good, too pure.

"We are God-fearing patriots, and in a time when black radicals are in power in this country, we are desperately trying to remind our citizens of their founding beliefs." Zobelle's voice got louder as he fell into his commanding role as head of The League.

"That all white men are created equal?" David responded with a sarcastic smile. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"Call us what you want, we have the same goal." Weston sneered. "Stop scumbags from arming scumbags-"

"We just want you to know that we are at your disposal if you need us." Zobelle cut off his excited right hand before he could completely scare the deputy off.

"And why would I need you?" David raised a brow, determined to make these phony assholes state the true intentions that he was already well aware of.

Jacob began blinking rapidly as the crucial meeting went much worse than he had envisioned - he was losing both sides. "My family-" He began, stopping himself before throwing his arm around his brother. "Our family, built this town." He corrected. "Our great-great grandfather, his brothers. And before our old man dies, the Hale's are going to give it back to the folks who live here." He nodded firmly.

David felt his brother's arm squeezing tighter around him each time that he mentioned their family - the vision that the Hale's had always had… Every Hale except him.

"And that salvation nets you a tidy real estate profit." Zobelle surmised - deciding to test the loyalty of the brothers that he was expected to put his trust in.

Jacob froze, dropping his arm from his brother's shoulders and reaching for his coffee. "Progress has its rewards." He stated curtly, bringing the mug to his lips as he stared straight ahead.

David scoffed as he realized what this was really about, pushing himself up from the table. It had been bad enough when he had realized that his brother had fallen for the model citizen act of the modern day Nazis, but to find out that he had chosen to overlook that detail solely for financial gain was what set him over the edge.

"Come on, David!" He ignored the pleas of his greedy brother who's voice began to sound exactly like his father's.

;

Sydney leant against the metal wall of the warehouse, puffing lazily on a cigarette while she, Chibs, Tig, Clay, and Jax all watched Juice, Half-Sack, and the Irishmen load up their van with the dozens of crates of MAC-10s to bring to their storefront.

"Now that we're keepin the Oakland business…" Chibs was the first to bring up another of the many elephants that had flooded their walls as of late. "Who the hell are we gonna sell guns to?" He scowled. "Niners? Mayans? Who?"

Sydney listened to the genuine confusion in his twang, but she didn't bother looking up from where her eyes were glued to the dirt beneath her boots. It was a valid question - it was just one that she hadn't cared to ask for herself. She was confident that she could get Laroy back on board relatively easily, and Alvarez's loyalty seemed to lie with the highest bidder.

Tig looked to Clay as he waited for the answer that would depend on the next question that came out of his mouth. "Opie back yet?" The older man looked to Jax who was also standing with his eyes glued to the ground.

"Tomorrow." He mumbled, still trying to figure out how the fuck they were going to manage to pull that off.

"Alright, we'll sit down with him and figure out the move…" Clay tried to drawl out lazily, but Sydney knew that it was forced - she just hoped that Chibs didn't.

"Yeah." Jax spit out as he snapped his eyes back up. "We should do that." He nodded bitterly as he brushed past his President and made his way to his bike.

Tig locked his worried eyes with Sydney's, blinking his assurance that they would figure it out - even if he had no idea how. His hand moved to his jaw nervously as he fell back while everybody dispersed.

"Cap." He placed his hand on Clay's bicep, keeping him from walking away. "Opie's gonna want payback for Donna's death, right? Well Jax and Piney both know it wasn't the Niners… So you got any ideas on where the hell we're gonna land with this?" He needed something to calm the raging anxiety that was building in his chest as he thought about being found out, about what that would mean for him - for Sydney; just as he had every single day since he'd killed that poor woman.

"Give Trammel a call." Clay grumbled out of the side of his mouth as Jax looked back at the pair from where he had fired up his bike. "We're gonna need some police intel…"

;

"Davy!" David heard from behind him, wishing for the first time as he climbed into his Bronco, that it wasn't an open top - because he had no way to drown out the desperate pleas of a greedy man.

"Do you know what those guys do?" He sneered, looking his suited brother up and down in disgust. "Since when do you smoke up with neo-Nazis?"

"I know who they are." Jacob nodded sincerely. "I'm not an idiot."

David scowled. He wasn't sure what his brother had expected to accomplish with that statement, because going into this knowingly only made it worse.

"Look, Charming is our town, Davy… Dad tried for years to get it back from SAMCRO and he couldn't. But you and me? We can."

"I'm not gonna swap one outlaw for another one." Hale shook his head. He couldn't care less about reclaiming his town from anything besides evil, and he wasn't going to settle on a lesser of two.

"The League's got no interest in Charming. For them, it's all about race."

"And that makes it okay?" David scoffed.

"Grow up, little brother!"

David turned away, and just in the nick of time - the revving of motorcycles filled their ears, only serving to prove the point that his brother was so horribly trying to make.

;

Tig laid back against his stiff dorm room bed as he stared at the ceiling fan, counting how many times it could make it around in a full circle before he heard Sydney's next breath from where she slept soundly against his side while his fingers tangled in her hair. It was a tacit routine that they had fallen into over the past few months; she would stay up to comfort him throughout the night, and he would stay up while she caught up on the sleep that he robbed her of during her lunch break - the only rotation that ensured both of them at least got some rest.

"Mmmm." He felt a smirk tugging at his lips as a grumbly moan rippled through her body, rolling over her so that his arms were wrapped around her and his chest was pressed against her back.

"What're you dreamin about?" He whispered into her ear, pressing his lips against her neck as he hugged her tightly.

"You." Her voice came out in a raspy chuckle before he felt her go rigid in his grasp.

Sydney felt her blood run cold as he froze behind her, now laying just as stiff as she was. "W-what time is it?" She cleared her throat as she pulled herself from his grip and reached for her phone on the nightstand where the clock read 2:52 P.M. "Gem will be needing me." She hastily slid off of the bed and scurried into the bathroom where she straightened herself out.

"I uh." Tig called after her. "I thought you were picking up the kids today?"

"I am." She told him as she moved around the room, avoiding his eyes while she gathered her things. "But I have a shoot later."

Tig felt a jolt of familiar panic, he knew what that meant. "I won't be home til late - gotta meet with Trammel." He told her simply, hoping to get himself at least halfway off of the hook as they drifted into the wealth of unspoken understandings that the last few months had required them to come to.

"Okay." She finally met his eyes as she stood in front of the door with her purse in hand.

Tig felt his heart tighten as his eyes trailed over the woman that he loved - the woman that he barely even recognized anymore. He recognized her when she smiled, or when she cracked a joke, or when the sound of her voice would lull him to sleep - but he didn't recognize her as she stood before him with hair that had been bleached white enough that he couldn't even call it blonde anymore, skin so heavily fake-tanned that it was almost orange, and a look of fear that he hated to know that he was the cause of. It was an expression that he had to rip his eyes away from, because it only made her face blend with Donna's that much easier - meek, uncomfortable, terrified.

"I'll see you later." Sydney nodded sadly, stepping out of his dorm and closing the door on yet another question that neither of them would ask.

;


Songs for this chapter

Come With Me Now - KONGOS

Slip Kid - Anvil & Frank Perez

The Good Life - Three Days Grace

Feels Like Loneliness - Sabrina Carpenter