Disclaimer – The characters of this fanfiction, as well as the 'Sons of Anarchy' world belong to Kurt Sutter, with the exception of Avi Liebermann, Nadia and Brad Cohen, who are original characters created by me. I make no profit from this work.

The grand finale, but it might not be the end of Nadia.

Reviews are welcomed! Thank you!

Part 2

Tig picked up a philosophy book. Thinking of something deep and yet, in his case, sterile helped him calm his nerves. Whoever took him for an uneducated man was very much mistaken. Although he hated schools and teachers, even the good looking female teachers, Tig had always loved reading. In this respect he was self-taught and went through both pretentious and rubbish literature with the same avidity.

Trying to concentrate on the meaning of those words simply didn't work that night, however. The image of a girl he used to hang out with as a young man, came back to haunt him. She had the same strange, exotic features like Nadia, but not her strength. When he rejected her, she ended up taking her own life, plunging under a speeding truck. That was no accident, he knew that much. A gruesome way to discover she was pregnant too. He loved that one big time, but just as these days, he was fucked up. Nothing and nobody couldn't change that fact. Only he could probably do something about it and he was unable. It was too late. But he adored this bitch, this evil, crazy, sweet woman who probably saw no future with him either. She was so improper for him and he was so inadequate to her that any sensible persons would have avoided going into this trouble at all costs. He guessed they weren't sensible at all. And yet Tig couldn't let go the remorse, the fear that something might go wrong with her and the awful question which he didn't even have the guts to put. Why did that idiot, Brad, return to Charming? He figured they weren't looking for him. Why was he talking to the Mayans? Why make such a childish mistake? At least if she were to react badly he wanted her on the enemy side rather than in his bed. Just a moral calculus, perhaps a silly one, given the saying: keep your friends close and the enemies closer. Perhaps the true reason of his outburst was the fact that he couldn't cope with her any longer, with the settled life, with falling for her out of his wits. He had to cut the string before the baby was born. He didn't care about no baby, he already had two daughters who suffered enough because of him, two daughters who cheated and manipulated him and to whom he felt eternally guilt-ridden for not being around much.

When Jax's text came through, he felt relieved to be given the chance and team up with the boys for some night jobs. Work provided him with a more reasonable distraction.

The others were tensed. Everybody understood the reasons, but didn't approve with the methods, not that any of them could come up with a better plan. And Juice thought her to be very similar to Tig, therefore just as volatile and vengeful. A hurt, single Nadia was far worse than an owned one as far as he was concerned, but perhaps his more experienced mate had other ideas.

Nadia was still recalling that sunny day when she was on the run, the day when she was victorious against Hale, against her brother and only sought for a place to lick her wounds. She wondered how she found herself running again, this time from the people she chose to help her. Swerving clouds of dust drew floating ribbons behind her car, as she was driving away, deep into the desert. She couldn't help not crying. She was joyful as much as agonizing. Nadia took Tig's reaction for what it was: a desperate attempt to send her away before she figured who finished Brad. She understood his ferocity, yet deeply regretted it.

The body next to her stunk very badly, or perhaps in her pregnant state her sense intensified. Stopping the car next to the old wooden shack, Nadia steps out and drags the corpse inside. It's not easy handling that weight over the staircase.

"Heavy, isn't it?" asks Clay coming out into the pale light of the full moon.

Nadia freezes in place.

"What you want?" she questions him speedily. She is very surprised to see Clay at all; he's been very withdrawn ever since the incident with the Lobos and the Russians. Jax never accused him of plotting, because it looked as if Clay had recused himself and attended less of the Club's business than a hang around.

"I followed you around. You and Jax have it all cover, haven't you? You make Tig dump you. This is not hard, Tig's a whore and a mad man. Then you commit "suicide". Problem solved: you disappear, your folks think you're dead, we think you're dead, you move some place nice and live happily ever after. But you've forgotten the old man, bitch."

Nadia wished she had the gun with her, but when he notices his, she instantly realizes there's no way out.

"What you want?"

"What I want? Gonna play with you a little, torture you till you faint, then play with that pussy of yours. Very romantic to choose the place where you were boning with Tig for your "suicide", nobody can hear you here."

"Why are you doing this?" whispers the woman backing down slowly.

"Because I can, because I want," answers Clay moving towards her at the same pace.

"I carry Tig's baby."

"I know. I've always thought you were no good, but you talked my best man out of it and that didn't cut it for me. Now I have you and I'm gonna have me some fun."

If she wasn't pregnant Nadia would have tried anything: running, picking up a random object and using it as a weapon, using her own limbs, but her condition not only slowed her down, it somehow rewired her brain. Once inside Clay slaps her over the face a few times, just to get her slightly dizzy, then pushes her on the floor. The man smiles sadistically putting his boot on her neck:

"You're just another Gemma, all feisty and full of shit. Now tell me, Juice is just a kid, but why Tig? Why not Happy, Opie, me?"

Nadia cries without answering.

"Tell me why? If you don't I'm gonna kick your baby and you know that's not good, I'm a strong man, I can't always tell how hard I'm gonna hit."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm curious, that's all," he says slowly, kicking her belly rather softly.

The woman screams quivering into a foetal position.

"Why?" he repeats coming closer to her level.

"Because he has a heart, you don't." Clay lifts her up and pushes her against the wall. "Happy and Op are not for me," she continues hastily. "I'm a slut and a psycho, just like him, but I would rather have you shoot me then let you do anything with me tonight."

Clay smirks satisfied.

"Write!" he growls passing her an empty notebook page.

"What?" she retorts surprised.

"Exactly how you feel, why you leave. Everything. This is for Tiggy. Gonna let him cry over you for a couple of days then I'll give him this. Poor bastard will be destroyed to hear you killed yourself, just like his first love. Write!" he commands her using his cell phone as a torch.

Tig lay fully dressed in the tub, the warm water raining on him, but he kept shivering. Her beautiful body had turn to ashes. It reminded him when he killed those Mexican whores, their bodies twisting in the fire. That image made him yell unexpectedly. The place where they made love was gone scorched to the ground. It must have been a curse. I killed this one too, he talks with himself. Yes you did, yes you did. You gave everything to the Club. I loved that one, the one under the truck… I'm so sorry, so sorry… Nadia. She's gone, you killed her, don't you remember?

There was nothing left of that perfect order in his small apartment. Everything was smashed up and lay in pieces all over the place. He only kept her clothes on the racks. They stood there like some ghostly witnesses to a mad scene.

All right now, what are ya going to do? Bury the body, yeah, pick up a shovel and go at night.

Tig couldn't even see Juice talking with Chibs next to him. Neither thought Tig would recover and neither expected his feelings to be that profound. Luckily Tara came over and sedated him, but they knew they couldn't keep him asleep for days on end.

It was a quiet dawn when Tig opened his eyes to find a note next to his pillow. For a brief moment he didn't even remember where he was or even who he was. That was the happiest moment he experienced in days. He recognised the writing and thought he was about to read her suicide note. Tig didn't want to read it, but some interior device, some weird resort pushed him.

"Tiggy,

I have no words to describe what I've done, but you know very well what you've done. I couldn't just get over something like that and I'm sure you understand. You tried to force me out of your life, to make things easier for me and I'm grateful. But I had to go. I had it planned for months. I asked Jax to help me and don't take it wrongly, he meant you no harm he was only protecting the Club and figured it would be easier with me out of it. I left because I came to realize something crucial: we are the same, you, me, Clay… we are all fucked up. I wanted this child growing inside my womb to have a different future I said to myself that I'd at least try. I might fail, but I'll give it my all to make it work. I'm sorry I deprive you of the joy of knowing your son. I had to be cruel to protect my baby. I love you. You alone looked into my soul and understood so much about me. But I fear you sometimes, you and your Club. It's poisonous. Please allow me the discretion of not showing this to Jax. Let him believe my plan worked just as I told him it would. I'm sorry. I love you.

Nadia"

Clay waited there in the door until Tig finished reading it. He read it three times just to be sure he understood correctly.

"Where is she?" he lifted his eyes, meeting his mate's cold gaze.

"With her own club."