Hiya there! Sort of filler chapter, because I can't have crazy-action in every chapter. So, little slice of life with Everett Lowman, but also important information for future arcs, keep your eyes open! The original SOA characters belong to Kurt Sutter, all OC are mine. And pop-culture references belong to their respective owners, and I make no money from this. Leave a little reply, if you feel like it!

This was the worst punishment ever. By far the worst. Even digging up this guy, under the rain and with no help in the middle of the woods to change him location, only to be called by Lawrence two hours before sunrise that he had changed his mind again and the corpse could stay there wasn't as worst as this. It was hot, there was nowhere to catch shade, she was already burned to a crisp of the last four days of this, standing guard over a small warehouse she was not allowed in. Knowing Law, it was probably empty. Just another day in the doghouse for the disappearing act she did with Joker.

She hissed as she touched her red shoulder, she was so thirsty, she had ran out of water the previous day. And she was hoping for rain. Lots of rain. She had called Joker, and texted to no avail, to please get some water sent. Her mouth was so pasty. At least the night were nice and cool.

For the umpteenth time that day, she pondered the possibility that there might be a sink inside of the warehouse. One with running water. Shit, right now she was so thirsty, she may have had drank from the tank of a toilet. But she had to follow orders, even if it meant suffering. She was being punished, but she was being tested as well. How much pain and suffering would she allow herself to take for the club?

All the pain and suffering in the world. She would die for it, like about anyone else in the club. She would die for a shot at a patch. There was nothing more important in existence then that.

Around eleven in the morning, she started to hallucinate that she had a baby. Around one, when the heat got really intense and she was seeking shelter in the near lack of shade of the building, she tried to sing herself a song. Around three, there was three drops of rain that fell, but they may have been some bird piss.

It was a steady beeping that woke her up, her whole body hurt, she was laying on her back. Obviously a hospital bed. On the chair near her bed, Robert "Bob Seger" Manseau, reading a book, he looked up when she moved, prompting her to croak a very funny "did I diiiiiie?" that made him smile.

-No. Someone just forgot to pull you out of the oven.

-Or baste me.

-Juicy found you talking to God when he swung by coming back from his run.

-Talking to God?

-I don't have all the details, but you need to take it easy. Doctor's orders.

-Screw him.

Bobby laughed as she tried to push the blanket and get out of bed, but every movement hurt. She ended up in the exact position she had started, tough she was now glaring at him.

-Don't think that's how it works. You're pretty crisp.

-Get me out of here, Bobby, or I will hurt you. I want beer. I'll be a cheap drunk, for once.

He nods, helps her out of bed and into her own clothes before heading out of the hospital, his wife and son are waiting for them downstairs, Precious will drive Everett back to her bike. They were chatting while crossing the parking lot, Precious and Everett were holding Bobby's son Tiny's hands, crossing the four way intersection separating the sections of the parking lot when an orange Nova cut in front of them to head towards the hospital, way too close to actually be safe. A few inches and he would have hit Everett that was on the far right of them all.

-...just really hope he ain't gonna send me to guard a freaking warehouse in the sun again. That was brutal. Where am I gonna find Juicy, Bob?

-Probably Jack's new house, he was installing some security there. Watch out.

-I'm gonna have to go and see him, you know, ASSHOLE! To say thank you.

The driver hit the break a few feet away from them, slammed the car into park, Everett let go of Tiny's hand, Precious just kept on walking, Everett knew Robert would have her back. She turned around towards the car, waiting as the guy came out. He had quite a few inches on them both, and a few pounds on Bobby, but that wouldn't impress Everett.

-Bitch, you got something to say?

-I do you fucking asshole. You drive like a dick and you didn't do your stop, you almost ran us over.

-Shut your fucking mouth, you bitch.

She sighed, rolled her shoulders before rushing him and knocking him clean out, he fell hard to the asphalt as Everett stumbled over him not to trip and break her face, she regained her footing with a smile towards Bob when the doors of the car opened, and out came three guys just as big as the one she's knocked down. There was a second long stare down, during which Everett considered her options. No gun, no knife, not even a bat, and Bobby couldn't possibly shoot the three of them and get away with it, it was noon time in front of a busy hospital.

-Precious, start the car! Run, bobby! RUN!

They laughed as they rushed towards the section of parking they were in, chased by three big dudes. Bobby jumped on his bike and took off without a helmet as Everett jumped to climb on the trunk of Precious' car and getting in through the open sun roof. She was strangling with her laughter.

-Punch it, Precious! Run'em over! Haha! Go!

Everett thought the world could end now, and it would be just fine. She was laying on her stomach on top of a table, in the cool shade of the clubhouse, Rain was in her peripherals, taking each of the smiles she would address him while Joker was rubbing her back with some cold aloe Vera cream, it felt so good that she had lost all gulping reflexes and she just kept on drooling on the table. Worst had happened in this clubhouse, no one would say a thing. It couldn't be as worst as barfing on her own boots while in the drunk tank.

She was in the middle of a long moan of satisfaction when Lawrence came in with Jack and Hopie, he considered everyone that was inside, before lighting a cigar.

-Now, Stars, are you going to disappear for a week again, or did you learn that lesson?

-In honesty, with the massage I'm getting right now, I might do it again. Ask me again tonight, when I have to sleep on a kitchen chair again.

Law had a mocking laugh, and reached to poke her burned shoulder, it made her hiss at him, which made just about everyone laugh except for herself and Emma, who burned regularly when she tried to tan, and knew the pain.

-Isssh, asshole!

-Speaking of asshole, there's four big dudes outside waiting on you and Bob Seger. Apparently, you hit one of them.

-He almost ran us over, with Precious and Tiny. When I came out of the hospital yesterday. Whatever I did to him he got coming.

-Which one.

-Whichever asshole has a bruised cheek and the keys to a Chevy Nova. Richard Kiel looking motherfucker.

The guys around her just burst in laughter at the reference, she just closed her eyes and smiled again, she wasn't about to do anything about it.

-If they feel like waiting, I'll take them on later. Right now, I'm busy with my masseuse.

Joker slapped her behind the head playfully, before finishing her massage, Hopie went back outside to probably relay the message. When he came back in, Law called a church meeting, so Joker had to suspend the massage indefinitely, he was on the shit list, and whatever dirty job would come out of this meeting, he would have to do it, most likely. So Everett put her shirt back on and considered her options.

Option A) Staying in the clubhouse, and having to make conversation with Emma Tellier-Moreau. It wasn't a bad option in itself, Emma was a bright woman, but the potential subjects of conversation were very limited. Emma was just too catty and competitive, and while she considered most of the women around the club as her daughter/sisters, she had never really taken to Happy unless circumstances dictated so. There were neutral subjects, hair, makeup, clothes, but Everett felt more at ease having these conversations with her little sisters than with Emma.

Option B) Staying in the clubhouse and not having a conversation with Emma. That was a bad option. Emma would probably see it as being disrespectful if Everett sat there for a while without talking to her at all, or even look her way. Plus she would just come across as nosy about club's business, she hadn't been invited into Church for a reason, and that reason was right now, she was the muscle, not a full patch.

Option C) Slip out a side door. Aka, the coward's option. It would be the preferred option when it came to not stir shit around the club and clubhouse, but she wasn't one to have other people fight her fight. One for all and all for one, sure, but she was the one that clocked an asshole. No one here had told her to do it, so it was her own fight. Plus, if she took that option, Law would probably see her as a weak bitch that couldn't finish the fights she started. So that left her with;

Option D) Get out there and bust some heads. Get these assholes away from Law's doorstep, take care of her own business, and prove the club that she could do well in an unfair fight. Even if she lost. If she lost, they would pick her up, and help her avenge herself, but there was no shame in trying her hardest, even if this wasn't a Jackie Chan movie. None of them would make fun of her. Well, they would poke good-natured fun at her stupidity for getting into a fight alone against four big guys, she would probably laugh too, despite her broken bones, but they would let her stick around.

Everett had a deep sigh, looked at Emma for a moment, the woman was cleaning a counter near the bar, a scowl on her face Everett didn't think Emma realized having, she was just focused on her work. Or maybe she was straining to hear what the guys were saying inside of Church. That was a possibility. Half-Bag, a former prospect, had once told her that when the place was quiet enough and the guys inside spoke up enough, it was possible to make a conversation.

-Did you change your hair? It looks darker.

-Hm, I did. Thinking of getting highlights.

-Would look nice.

It was an odd conversation, even if it was just the start, Emma looked up, eyebrows furrowed at Everett over her glasses, it made them both chuckle. They both knew better. Everett wasn't into these kind of conversation, ever. She would tell females that they looked cute, but rarely were there specific compliments given, aside from "you have a nice smile", or the likes of.

-What was that?

-A little bit of option A) before I go out for option D). Maybe to talk me out of option C)?

-What are you talking about?

-You have a baseball bat? I have an asshole problem that needs taking care of.

No baseball bat, but that didn't mean there wasn't a wide array of blunt weapons to pick from around the clubhouse. Chain-locks, a shillelagh that had mysteriously appeared in the clubhouse eight years before, a naboot owned by a former member that had transferred and left it behind, enough paper to build a house out of Millwall bricks, hammers; it was the crowbar that Everett considered the longest, before deciding for it. She still tried to postpone the moment a little longer by stretching and warming up, before closing her hand on the weapon.

She hadn't even made a step towards the door that Emma stopped her, one hand on Everett's arm, she was handing her a pepper shaker.

-Be careful, out there. Take this.

-What do you want me to do with that?

-You can at least blind the biggest of these fuckers. Gives you a chance.

-Thanks. Don't let them kill me.

-Not all the way. Do me a favor. Never try to have hair conversations with me again.

-Deal.

They chuckled nervously again, and Emma let go of Everett, who headed towards the door, one eye on the camera, to determine which of the guys outside was biggest. That's the one who would get a full pepper shaker to the face. By the way they were waiting outside, it could work out pretty well.

She kicked the door with her foot as hard as she could, making one fall backwards after it him him square in the head, and the pepper shaker went flying at the biggest one of them, breaking in a lot of tiny pieces, he screamed out loud as she was swinging the crowbar towards the third. So far, so good.

Until she swung the crowbar back towards just about where the fourth guy was standing, and it hit... Nothing. Nothing but thin air, the guy had moved towards his pal that got a door across the head, and she had not anticipated that. She had somewhat played this out in her head at much faster speed then her actual one. And because she needed to turn around to look for him while swinging the bar, she was met with a fist to the face that sent her flying backwards and into a pile of trash bags. Something sharp poked at her back, she hissed, instead of screaming, she did not want to give them the satisfaction of screaming.

She still pulled herself out of there as quickly as she could, swinging her crowbar, it was now two and a half against one, much better odds, the guy she had hit in the head with the crowbar wasn't a hundred percent, and the guy that had gotten the pepper shaker to the face was screaming and bleeding profusely, he was of no use.

As she swung it again to hopefully get a hit on one of them, Jack ran out of the clubhouse, he had already done his assessment of the situation through the cameras, so he went for the biggest, she had imagined it would be Rain that would have come running out to help her. It was still help that was quite welcomed, as he tackled the guy from behind and into the side of a big garbage container. One and a half against one, odds she could easily overcome, she thought as she hit the already half-incapacitated guy in the jaw. Her and Jack against the guy she had clocked the day before and one of his friends.

They were taken care of in a matter of four to six minutes, and booted out of the compound without so much a fare-thee-well, once the door slammed behind them, Everett let herself fall on her ass to the ground dramatically, holding her face from that first punch she got.

-Asshole! Learn to drive!

-Are you fucking nuts?

-Why do people always ask me that?

But he wasn't even mad or angry, he was laughing. Only Everett Lowman would be stupid and or ballsy enough to go and take on four bulky, six foot two and over guys, all on her own, with a crowbar and a pepper shaker. He was holding his ribs, that's how hard he was laughing, leaning against the fence. And she was laughing just as hard, despite how much her skin and face hurt, as well as her back, from whatever had poked her.

-Aw. Come on, let's have a beer. You're as crazy as your fucking father.

-Thank you for the compliment.

They were still laughing as he helped her up and brought her back in, Joker checked on them both, whatever she had landed on in the garbage can had made a hole in her kutte and her skin, she would have a scratch, her face would be ok, given she put about two kilos of aloe Vera twice an hour until she wasn't burned anymore. She would be fine, perfectly fine. So she might as well get drunk.