Author's Note: Thanks loads to those reading, and especially those who took time to leave some feedback - always much appreciated! T x


Two

It would take more than the better part of half a bottle of whiskey to put him out of action, but it still took dragging himself into a long hot shower to clear Chibs' head the next morning and let him summon the energy to head to the newly renovated garage.

The urge to call it TM was still strong, but while rebuilding and trying to strengthen their most legitimate source of income made sense, the Teller-Morrow name had been tainted beyond repair. Locals who hadn't had a problem giving them their business in the past, despite the club's reputation, had slowly but surely been driven away – first by the explosion that had nearly wiped them out and then, even when they first tried to start over, by … well, everything that had followed.

Both the Teller and the Morrow names had been an integral part of the fabric of Charming for so long. Knowing that they had been all but wiped out, and largely by each other's hands, was a distinctly uncomfortable notion, to say the least. The very least.

The remaining Sons could only try to retain some kind of foothold though. And they needed to work. Something legit, that let them earn and gave them a reason to congregate that didn't rattle law enforcement. They were also determined to continue down the path Jax had finally tried to set them on. They'd never be boy scouts, not with their collective records. But getting caught up with serious shit like cartels …

They had to put that firmly in the rear view.

Chibs finished buttoning his work shirt, trailing a fingertip over the name neatly embroidered above the pocket. Scoops and Sweets was gone too. Their temporary base was just surplus to requirements now they were back were they belonged, plus they'd needed the cash injection to fully restore the old clubhouse and garage. They'd voted and they'd been unanimous in wanting to have a proper home again and not feel relegated to hiding out in a goddamn ice-cream parlour.

No longer Teller-Morrow, but Sam's Yard.

Not that there was an actual Sam, just a nod to Samcro. It would take time for it to fully take hold after decades of what had gone before, but it made sense to adapt. Being mechanics was what they knew and they still had a fleet of their own bikes to service, albeit a somewhat depleted one.

But their most recent vote had backed a new initiative as well. SOS – Sam's Operational Security. Providing private security, mostly to bars, building sites, that type of shit. Not strictly legit, given that they hadn't exactly gone down the official paperwork route. But they were cheap and they got the job done. Besides, it was mostly about providing a deterrent to troublemakers, or banging a few heads when drunks got rowdy. Easy compared to some of the shit they'd been caught up with in their time.

And, while business was slow at first, it was there. Between running security details and fixing bikes and cars, they'd get by - as evidenced by Tig already having his head under the hood of a car before 7am, Chibs noted, marvelling a little that his right-hand man wasn't simply in the office with his feet kicked up on the desk, barking orders at prospects as usual.

"Morning, sunshine."

The banged head and flurry of colourful curses in response to his simple greeting made Chibs smirk. Looked like Tigger's early start didn't automatically mean he was firing on all cylinders yet.

"You don't normally grace us with your presence this early, brother …"

Tig shrugged, rolling his shoulder muscles as he straightened up fully and wiped his hands on a rag. "Promised Vee I'd be free for lunch – thought I'd get on top of some shit early."

"Trying to stay in Lyla's good books too, huh? Wonders will never cease."

"Can get enough grief at home without getting it here too," Tig groused, but with a grin that said his domestic arrangements weren't an entirely unwelcome change in circumstances.

Adapting was something they were all getting used to.

While Red Woody was still operational, Lyla had taken a step back from porn now the kids, hers and Opie's, were getting old enough to potentially come in for shit at school over her career, even if she had been mainly behind the camera instead of in front of it over the last while. She was still available in a consultancy capacity until the new manager found her feet, but day-to-day, she had her hands full running the business side of the garage, just like Gemma had.

Jesus, Gemma …

Memories of their former queen still felt like a dagger to the heart. She had been a mother-figure to them all, a confidante and source of strength when the shit hitting the fan in their personal lives threatened to spill over into club life. Oh, they knew she was not to be underestimated, like a she-wolf protecting her cubs. But the sheer bloody viciousness she had turned on her own daughter-in-law …

Gangland shit, Juice had told Jax.

And memories of Juice took their turn at twisting the knife, before Chibs could force them back into the darkest corners of his mind.

"You look like shit," Tig remarked, even as he turned his attention back to the task in hand. "Heavy night?"

"Not heavy enough," Chibs muttered. "And I hate to break it to ya, me boyo, but you ain't exactly gonna hang in a gallery yerself."

"Not what I hear, asshole. You gonna give me a hand or just stand there gassing?"

"Remind me who the boss is around here again?" Chibs demanded jokingly.

"Lyla," Tig shot back immediately. "Definitely Lyla."


"You're up early …" Seth Moore managed, trying to cover up a cavernous yawn as he strolled into his kitchen in just his sweatpants.

"Mm-hmm," came the non-committal response from his youngest sister, perched at the breakfast bar and barely glancing up from her laptop. She'd swept her long hair into a messy bun on the top of her head and had a pen stuck in it that she plucked back out to scribble down a note in the pad beside her. "We need to do a proper shop, but there's OJ if you want it."

He raised an eyebrow at that, sniffing the dregs in the coffee pot and deciding to chance it. "That what's dragged you out of bed at this hour? A shopping list?"

"What? Oh, this. Nah, couldn't sleep," she confessed, before quickly glossing over that like it was nothing. Which actually told him it was probably something. "I've had an idea. We should have a proper launch night. Like a fight night, but … bigger. Really put on a party, get all the locals in. Could be a great way to get noticed and win people over."

"Sounds … expensive," Seth said, scratching his beard and trying to consider the idea when all he could really focus on was wondering just how worried he should be about the girl in front of him. She was grown now, he knew that, but to him, she'd always be the baby of the family.

"See, I've thought of that and it doesn't have to be. I wanna check a few things out, but you trust me, right? Can I at least look into it? I promise I won't arrange anything without checking back in."

"Listen, Eden, it ain't that I don't appreciate it, but …"

"But what?"

"But …" He tried to bite his tongue, knowing he was probably just setting them on a collision course for another row, but it was no good. He had to say something. "You have a real job to get back to, kiddo. And helping me, I don't want that getting in the way."

"It's fine-"

"Is it?" he asked sharply, cutting her off. He was getting sick of hearing it was fine when it clearly wasn't. How long had she told him everything was fine, right before their lives went completely to shit and he ended up in that motherfucking jail? "Or is this a crutch to avoid having to think about getting your own life back on track?"

"If you don't want my help, Seth, you only have to say," she bit out, sweeping the notes she'd made into a messy bundle and slamming her laptop shut.

"Eden … Eden, wait! Shit …" he sighed, sinking down on a stool by the breakfast bar and leaning his forehead against the counter in despair at the sound of the front door slamming behind her. Well, that went well.


As soon as the door slammed behind her, Eden tilted her head back and heaved a sigh. Shit.

She hated fighting with Seth, always had, but even more so after everything he had done for her. She couldn't bring herself to go back and face the music though, not when she knew he was at least partly right. Not that she was prepared to admit it to anyone other than herself.

Going back to work … Just the thought was enough to bring her out in a cold sweat, and realising that frustrated her more than she could say. She had loved it once. Loved her independence. Now, here she was, on the wrong side of thirty and dependent on her brother for somewhere to stay and for what little work he could give her. She hated that, hated that she was still a burden after everything.

What other option did she have though?

Even just stitching that guy's head had made her hands tremble until she summoned every ounce of willpower she had to make them stop. Although something about him had made it a little easier than it might otherwise have been – something in those brown eyes that had watched her every move as she prepared the needle. Warmth, maybe even trust. Chibs they'd all called him, although he'd introduced himself as Filip – in an accent that had also sparked an unexpected flutter of warmth …

She had more than enough on her plate without entertaining thoughts like that though, especially about – and oh yeah, she'd heard all about the Sons of Anarchy in the loose talk around town – an older man with a chequered past who lived his life firmly on the outer fringes of the law.

She had to focus on at least starting to get her own life back. So it was either staying with Seth or living in terror, or – God forbid – moving in with her sister Melanie and her perfect husband and their perfect kids in their perfect Santa Monica home.

At least this way, she can try telling herself she's helping Seth get back on his feet. He is having to start over too. And that's her fault. She knows he'd hate to hear her say that, but that doesn't make it any less true.

She should be trying to make it up to him. Not that she ever really could.

As the "baby" of the family, she had always been closest to her big brother. It killed her to know she had destroyed his life.