A/N: don't own don't sue
Lyrics at the beginning are from 'Get Me Through' by Daughtry
Set around Season One, before Abel is kidnapped and Gemma is raped and Jax turns into a jerk and the whole club hates each other. Generally back when the show had fun and all the coolest characters were still alive. Because I can, it's called artistic license.
Learn My Lesson
Chapter Twenty Five
Cry out all who care to know
I've been hollow way too long
I know where I'm going wrong
There's nothing I can do
I believe you can get me through
Nothing else will do
I believe you can get me through
So can you stop the bleeding?
Get me through
Color blind, I paint your blue sky grey
But this time you'll shed some light on me
Just before I fade away
There's nothing I can do
All the chances that you're takin'
The promises that I keep breaking down
Writings on the wall
Can't make out all the letters
But I know it's getting better now
The writings on the wall
They had a couple of days to wait before Cameron's escape route arrived and they fell into a disturbingly domestic routine. Cameron would cook them breakfast, at his insistence, and chat with Naomi during the day while Chibs drove until he had a signal so he could make his secret club calls. They would eat lunch together and play cards and old board games with missing pieces to pass the time. Naomi would make something basic for dinner and they would eat in companionable silence. After, she would retreat onto the porch to enjoy the quiet. Chibs and Cameron would stay up late into the night, reminiscing about the old country and the old days. They would talk until dawn, when Cameron would stagger into his room and Chibs would crawl in beside her.
If she knew he was avoiding her, she didn't mention it.
Chibs had come to a decision. He had let himself get distracted, caught up in how much he enjoyed her and how much he wanted her. He had to step away, get a clear head again so he could protect her properly. She was going to leave eventually, and he had to be prepared for that. He had gradually pulled away from her, little by little. He had stopped touching her unnecessarily during the day, had found reasons to be in a different area than her, had made sure Cameron was always there as a buffer. He wasn't rude, he still talked to her and laughed with her and teased her like he always had, but he had to create some distance. A selfish horny voice in his head had tried to convince him to get as much fucking in as he still could while they were trapped here, but he had dismissed the idea. Eventually. After a lot of consideration. He couldn't use her that way. Christ, he was too old to be developing scruples.
It was near impossible to keep his hands to himself while he slept beside her. He still allowed himself to hold her when she initiated it, the warm press of her soft pliant body against his a delicious method of torturous punishment that he was certain he deserved. However, he skilfully managed to evade any attempts at seduction, claiming anything from being too drunk to being too old and rickety suddenly. The first attempt had been such a near miss, I mean honestly how was a man supposed to resist a stunning vixen who thrust her hands straight into his jeans without so much as a word of warning, that he had started haunting the living room with Cameron until he was positive she was already asleep every night.
He scrubbed his tired hands over his face, took a final shot of whiskey with Cameron and heaved himself to his feet. He staggered towards the room he shared with her, his head pleasantly swimming in a vat of alcohol. He knew he was pushing the boundaries by still sharing a bed with her, but he couldn't bring himself to give her up entirely… not yet. And besides, if he stopped coming to bed she would definitely know something was up and she had an uncanny ability to see right through his bullshit.
She shifted slightly as he collapsed onto the thin mattress, too drunk to be mindful. He kicked off his boots with some difficulty, stripping down clumsily. He had definitely got carried away with the whiskey, but talking about Ireland did that to him, made him nostalgic and mopey. He lay back and stared at the milky dawn light starting to peep through the window. He had made so many stupid choices in his life. Was he making another one? Or was he doing the right thing for once?
She stirred, reaching towards him in her sleep. He took her questing hand and held it, brushing the palm with his lips. She shifted again, inching a little closer. He gathered her up against him, against his better judgement, holding her close. Her welcoming body fit perfectly against his, as it always had done, her sweetly scented hair extremely tempting. Luckily the alcohol shoved him into dreamland before he could ruin his good behaviour.
She was giggling with Cameron when he finally woke up. He was absolutely baffled that she had managed to get the Irishman to crack a smile, but he didn't mention it as he stomped into the kitchen for desperately needed coffee. He had been told Gemma would be visiting today, to drop off supplies, so he had a plan. He took a cold shower to clear his hangover, wolfed down some lunch they had left for him, and beckoned for her to join him. She gave him a long considering look that made his belly shrivel. Eventually, she joined him and he asked her to grab some water bottles and dress for a hike.
Naomi did as he asked without a word, tossing Cameron a cheerful goodbye as they left. She remained silent as they hiked into the trees, humming one of her ridiculous country songs and swinging the bottles in time with the tune as she walked. Knowing he was being foolish, he reached for her hand. She let him take it with nothing but a brief quizzical look. She had definitely noticed his behaviour and his heart sank. He brushed her fingers with his thumb as they walked, enjoying the contact after his self imposed exile from her.
When they reached a suitable clearing, they stopped. She eyed him curiously.
"Are you going to kill me now?" She asked, sounding depressingly resigned to the possibility.
He blinked at her in confusion.
"'Course not." He snapped, offended at the idea.
She shrugged, turning away from him.
"Well I know sex is off the table these days. So why else would you bring me out here."
His mouth flopped open like a fish, but she wasn't looking at him.
"Here."
He pulled his gun from his waistband and her expression flattened. He could see it written right across her face, that she really thought he was going to kill her. The realisation wounded him deeply. Did she not know him at all, did she really think he would use her so badly and then take her out to the woods to kill her like she was nothing. He forced the hurt away. It was all the better, it helped him to keep his distance.
"Take it." He ordered, holding the gun out to her by the barrel.
She stared at it uneasily. He wiggled it at her and she finally reached for it.
"It's heavy." She exclaimed in surprised, holding the weapon gingerly away from her.
"I'm going to show you how to use it."
She cocked her head, her gaze flicking from him to the gun and back again. He walked past her, setting out the used cans he'd brought as targets at varying intervals around the clearing. When he was done he moved back towards her, sighing when he saw her still squinting at the gun like it was a particularly large and ugly parasite.
"Come here."
She rolled her eyes, a sly grin crossing her face.
"So dominant and bossy." She teased, sashaying towards him with far too much sway in her hips.
He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face the targets. He manoeuvred her body into the correct stance, doing his best to ignore the throb of lust pulsing through him as he tilted her hips and manipulated her arms and legs. She made no advances towards him and didn't say a word, but he could tell from the look in her eyes and the lift of her mouth that she was well aware of her effect on him. He focused on explaining how to aim, how to take into account the wind and movement.
"Now, when you pull the trigger, there'll be a kick-back." He warned her.
She nodded and focused on the targets spread out around the clearing. The first shot was deafening and Chibs instantly regretted not bringing a silencer. She missed all of the targets and, despite his warning, she bounced backwards against him with the recoil. He savoured her lithe body pressed against his for a moment, before placing her back into her original position. He lifted her arms slightly, and corrected the position of her fingers.
"Try again." He ordered, leaving his hands on her arms for support.
This time she only missed the closest target by a couple of inches. He helped her adjust her position a little, ignoring the way her brow creased with concentration and the tip of her little pink tongue appeared between her lips. The can gave a loud clang as she clipped it and she whooped excitedly. He let her have her moment of celebration, then he stepped back and had her try again without his support.
"Yes I'm sure the bad guys with the guns will politely wait while I get into the correct position and test the wind."
He shot her a dark glare and she stuck her tongue out at him.
They spent most of the afternoon in the clearing, wasting ridiculous amounts of bullets, but by the end of it she hit as many targets as she missed. Her body was aching from the effort, her arms from holding the heavy weapon and her shoulders from absorbing the recoil, but it had taken her mind off him ignoring her so she wouldn't complain. She had no idea what his problem was, and she had no intentions of asking. She would never beg anyone for their attention. She knew something had happened after their afternoon in the clearing, the intimacy they had shared. It made her whole body quiver just thinking about it, but she wouldn't be asking him to explain. Besides, when he had been helping her get her stance correct, she had felt him as hard as a rock against her and she knew he was still attracted. So she'd wait him out, no man could resist forever.
Still, she wished she could ask him for a massage when they got back to the cabin, as her muscles groaned with the effort of the return hike. Maybe she could ask Cameron. The thought made her laugh out loud and Chibs shot her a suspicious glance, which she ignored. Gemma had been and gone, bags of supplies sitting in the kitchen ready to be cooked. Naomi walked right past them, having no intentions of forcing her aching body to waste an hour cooking food and not even getting an orgasm in return.
She spent far too long in the shower, letting the pounding hot water soothe the aches in her shoulders and back. How dare he have the audacity to think he could just toss her aside. For what? Because he got cold feet? Because it might not have just been sex and fun anymore? Immature asshole. She got steadily more irritated as she scrubbed her body and washed her hair, ready to pack up and go home. She had had it with these silly games. Hot and cold. Absolutely not. He had just blown his last chance, if he didn't come to bed tonight and do his best to get into her pants. He was done.
He had hoped their afternoon training session would have eased the way from lovers to friends, without him having to take a tongue-lashing from her. He was sorely mistaken. She didn't emerge from their room again for the rest of the evening, even when he cautiously tapped on the door with a plateful of some Irish concoction Cameron had thrown together for them. He kept one eye on the door as he chatted with the Irishman that evening, losing rather too much money at cards to him in his distracted state. He knew when a door was angry, and this one was furious. He had gone wrong somewhere. He knew he should sit her down and explain why he needed to distance himself from her, so he could focus on keeping her alive and get her to the trial so she was safe, but he had pussied out. She had clearly come to some conclusion now, and he was positive he wasn't going to like it.
When Cameron limped off to bed a few hours later, he tentatively approached the bedroom door. He had half-expected it to be locked, but it opened easily under his hand. She was a lump in the bed, her back turned towards the door. He discarded his clothes carefully and slid into the bed. He could sense the tension emanating from her. Usually, he would tease her with his hands and mouth until they could work the argument out carnally, but this time he wasn't allowed to do that.
He stared miserably up at the ceiling and recited all of the reasons he had made this decision in his head.
He had well and truly fucked things up. Why couldn't he have just spoken to her. He had planned to on their last night. Admittedly in his plan, she was a lot more demure and accepting and she immediately accepted his unilateral decision without question. In real life she had a lot more attitude. She had slept away from him all night and had not said a word apart from good morning as they passed each other in the kitchen. Cameron had raised his eyebrows at him but had not commented.
They had packed the truck in silence, bid goodbye to Cameron in silence, and driven half the way home in silence, before he worked up the courage to approach the subject. Normally having the truck to themselves would be an excuse for him to pull over and fuck her silly at least once. Even if he hadn't banned himself from touching her, the prospect was definitely off the table if the icy silence exuding from her was anything to go by.
"I think we better talk, lass." He finally said, when they only had a few miles left to the garage.
She made a non-committal noise and he took that as permission to continue.
"I've been thinkin'… that maybe it's best… if we stop… what we're doing…"
She was still looking out of the window and her half-turned back looked exceedingly angry, it was very distracting. He mumbled something about protecting her, how he was too caught up in what was going on between them to concentrate, he even said those ridiculous break up words "it's for the best". For fuck's sake, why didn't he just throw in "it's not you it's me" and completely embarrass himself. She was silent throughout, not even gracing him with a glance, and the tension in the truck was so thick it was like treacle when they pulled into the garage lot. She climbed down without waiting for his usual assistance, grabbing her bag from the backseat before he could.
"You're a coward." She said coldly, her normally lively eyes flat and icy. "Running away is the coward's way out." She said pointedly and he felt himself flush, his mind flitting to his family. "I'm disappointed."
She gave him a thoroughly savage look that ripped his insides out, turned on her heel and walked away from him. Juice and Half-Sack descended on her immediately and she disappeared into the depths of the clubhouse with them. He sighed despondently, feeling old and tired as he trudged across the lot to find Clay and report in.
"Are you fighting again?" Half-Sack asked quietly as he trailed after Naomi to her room.
"No." She replied honestly, since they hadn't actually fought. "I don't want to talk about it, Kip."
He stared at her with big eyes but obediently changed the subject as he watched her unpack her meagre possessions. Juice hovered around the room, blushing brightly as she tossed her underwear into the laundry basket beside him. He was hovering with a purpose and she figured it was about Dex, so she ushered Half-Sack out of the room and closed the door.
"What's the news?" She asked tiredly, feeling suddenly exhausted.
Juice fidgeted a little, then he crossed the room towards her and took her hands in his. She looked at him in confusion, he was normally too shy to touch her. She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling him with her by their joined hands. He continued to fidget, squeezing her fingers nervously.
"Juice." She said sharply, put on edge by his nervousness.
"I hacked into the local PD's mainframe where your brother is staying. They've had a bunch of reports of suspicious looking vehicles crawling around town."
Her heart leaped painfully and her grip tightened on his hand.
"I used the police reports to look up the license plates with a friend at the DMV." He stared across at her with huge worried eyes. "They're not nice people."
She let out the breath she'd been holding, a bone-deep weariness flooding over her so suddenly she could barely keep her eyes open.
"Thanks, Juice."
He gaped at her, confused by how calm she was. She shook her head, squeezing his fingers.
"I'll contact my parents and tell them they need to move my brother." She said quietly. "Thank you for helping me."
Juice continued to stare at her in confusion but she was too tired to explain that this was just the latest in a long line of shit and she'd grown pretty numb to it all.
"I'm really tired, Juice. I just need a few hours."
Juice nodded, getting to his feet awkwardly. He hesitated, unwilling to leave her alone when she looked so small and sad all of a sudden. Deciding to take a risk, he crouched down before her.
"Are you okay?"
She gave him a fierce glare for a moment, then she drooped like a broken flower and burst into tears. He stared at her in horror. What the hell did you do with a crying chick? She sobbed like her heart was breaking and he did the only thing he could think of. He wrapped his arms around her. She folded into him helplessly, sliding from the bed and into his lap.
She cried for a long time; the stress of her situation, the danger she was in, her beloved idiot brother being in danger once again, and being abandoned by Chibs, all pouring out of her in a torrent she couldn't stop. Juice took her sudden breakdown like a champ, stroking her hair and rocking her as she clung tightly to him. He didn't speak, which was probably for the best, but he was a warm solid presence and that calmed her.
She avoided the main clubhouse for the rest of the day, embarrassed at her breakdown and determined not to run into Chibs with her face puffy and red from her tears. She used a new burner phone from Juice to call her parents, nearly resulting in another breakdown as her father immediately blamed her for the mess Dex had caused, then destroyed the phone and had another cry.
Juice, bless his heart, slipped into the room and handed her a bag of her favourite dinner. He'd blushed so brightly he practically glowed. She had successfully avoided everybody else, or they had been told to leave her alone. She probably should have analysed why she was losing it, but she honestly couldn't be bothered. She changed into a spare shirt, that didn't smell of Chibs, and climbed into bed. The sheets had been changed while they were gone and they also didn't smell like Chibs. It seemed very final, all of a sudden.
