Tig sat in the hospital chapel but not because he believed in God really. Or even because he was praying. It was the only place that was quiet. No humming machines, no footsteps, no whispers. He could think.
Three days ago he was on his way back from a gun run with Bobby and Juice. It had been pissing down with rain, but he'd wanted to get back to Charming. Bobby, seeing his determination didn't disagree. He still didn't know what made him push so fucking hard. They could easily have waited the storm out. But he wanted to get back into town. And because of that need, they had happened across the accident minutes after it had happened.
He didn't recognise her car at first, but when he got up close, his stomach threatened to drop right out his ass. Her Beetle had a massive yellow daisy painted across the back. Half was rusted away, but the daisy, paint chipped, with every element working against it, somehow still spread its cheer. He remembered it because the day he had interviewed her, just seeing the offensive flower had made him want to take aim and shoot at the fucking thing.
His bike hadn't even come to a standstill when he was off. Bobby shouted, "Tig, watch the fucking bike!" as it hit the ground. He had already been sprinting towards the vehicle.
"Call 911," Bobby had shouted to Juice.
When he'd reached the driver's side, his knees buckled. She was dead. For the first time in years, Tig Trager, Sergeant at Arms of SAMCRO panicked. His hands had physically shaken as he gently pushed her back, sweet saliva flooding his mouth in relief as she whimpered at being moved.
Bobby had come up to him while Juice rattled off their location to emergency services. "Fucker who drove into her took off."
He hadn't been listening. His attention focused solely on her.
"It's alright, sweetheart. I got you." He had gently lifted her out of the car, cradling her against his chest, his kutte draped over her body, the leather protecting her from the rain.
"Should you even move her?"
He ignored Bobby. It was a moot point. She was already in his arms. Where the fuck was the ambulance? She was starting to shake and then his gut clenched when little sobs wracked her body. She felt tiny. And he felt helpless.
"Ambulance is here!" Juice called. "We got your bike , brother."
The vehicle had hardly come to a standstill when Juice was opening the back. The paramedic was about to climb down but saw Tig standing with her, ready to get in.
"Put her on the gurney, Sir."
He'd lain her down as gently as he could and would have stepped out. But then she started retching and he knew he couldn't leave.
"Jesus Christ."
The paramedic who needed space to move looked at him. "Are you a friend? Sir? Are you a friend?"
The paramedic's hands were moving rapidly, Tig's eyes never left her.
She wasn't his friend, was she?
"No," he had answered automatically. But he knew that that would mean he would be ejected from the ambulance. "Yeah. Yeah," he finally said with conviction.
"Her name?" The ambulance started to move.
"Morena Ramos. Morena sweetheart, open your eyes."
She slowly turned towards the sound of his voice and those beautiful, dark eyes stared right at him. Gone was the sunshine. Her eyes were glazed with pain. He wanted to smile. But he didn't dare. He felt his lips tremble and he swallowed the lump in his throat.
Her face was bloodied, the paramedic trying to stem the urgent flow of hot fluid. Shards of glass stuck to the right side of her face where she must have hit the window. Her skin was already starting to swell.
To give himself something to do, and offer her the only comfort he could, he gently took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.
He watched her eyes glaze over with tears. They shimmered for a moment before gravity pulled them down, the salty wetness mixing with her bloodied visage.
Tig was pulled out of his thoughts when the doors swung open. He didn't bother to look at who it was, assuming it was a patient's family member coming to pray. He did turn when he felt someone quietly sit down next to him.
"Hey. You okay?"
Jax's Old Lady could be one fucking tough bitch. But she also had the kindest heart. And right now, that compassion was aimed at him. Compassion and a fair dose of curiosity. She slid into the pew and sat beside him.
When he didn't answer, she said, "Dr. Kruger says she is going to be fine. Some very light scaring. But with time, they'll fade. Nothing's broken. She's just bruised. The swelling ought to go down in a couple more days."
He knew all of this already. And Tara knew he knew.
"She's been working for me."
He didn't miss the look of surprise that crossed her face. He was almost amused. His hands combed through his hair, the curly mass a complete mess.
"Not in the way you think, Doc. Christ, I wasn't sleeping with her." And because Tara had that way about her, he ended up telling her more than he had intended to. Not about his feelings. That was locked away. But about everything else.
"After Donna," he swallowed hard, "I spent more time at this place I keep and needed someone a couple days a week. She needed the cash, I needed someone discreet. It's an arrangement that worked for us."
Tara had sat quietly and listened. "She's a really great person."
"I wouldn't know. We aren't social."
Those feelings he thought he was suppressing, he should have known the Doc would pick up on.
"Tig…" she looked at him with so much concern he wanted to hit something. I don't deserve it. "She doesn't have much family around here. No one she's close to. Rena's bright. Really smart. And kind. She is very well liked here." He stared straight ahead, his eyes burning. "Anyway, she's aw-"
Tig's gut clenched and he crossed his arms defensively.
"No need to warn me to stay away, Tara."
She had the grace to look guilty. "Tig, I didn't mean…"
He cut her off. "She helped me out. I found her at the scene of an accident and I thought the decent thing to do would be to make sure she's okay. Don't worry Tara. Emotionally stable women aren't my thing. I like them wild and preferably in the porn biz. Fuck 'um and leave 'um."
She winced and he almost regretted his crudeness. Almost. But not quite. He continued.
"So, no need to worry. I don't fuck bright, smart and kind."
He stood and walked out, the doors swinging wildly with the force of his furious exit.
Tara whispered to the empty room. "I just wanted to tell you she was awake and asking for you."