A/N: I do not own anything about Sons of Anarchy. It belongs completely to Kurt Sutter, and I am just so glad to be allowed to play in the wonderful world he created.

Okay, there is a point in this chapter where I quote a scene an episode word for word, and I apologize in advance because I hate it when people do that. However, I think it's a good exchange between the characters.

Chapter Three

It was the day after Donna's funeral, and Charlie was heading up to the cabin where her father was, more than likely, drinking himself into a stupor and shooting at trees. That was what he usually did when something was on his mind, and it was clear to her that there was something going on in the Charming charter of the Sons of Anarchy. She parked in front of the cabin and got out of her truck, lighting a cigarette as she went. Before she could reach the front door, though, it opened and her father looked out at her.

"I don't think that school teachers are supposed to smoke." He said, his voice gravely as he stepped aside to let her into the cabin.

"I'm not hired yet." Charlie responded, smiling back at him and she lowered herself into one of the old armchairs in the living room. "Dad, what's going on?"

Piney looked at his daughter, and for the first time in his life, he was glad that she wasn't a member of his motorcycle club. He knew that all her life, she had wanted nothing more than to wear the reaper on her back, but now that things were starting to fall apart, he was glad that she wasn't bound to it.

"Nothing." He growled as he poured himself a glass of bourbon.

Charlie scoffed and looked at him as he sat down across from her, taking a deep gulp from his glass.

"That wasn't 'nothing' at the funeral. And it wasn't 'nothing' that Clay jumped back from hugging me so goddamned fast after he saw you glaring at him. Something is wrong here, dad, and I want to know what it is." Charlie demanded, violently rubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray beside her chair.

Piney glared at her, and said, "You aren't a member, Charlotte. It's none of your goddamn business."

"That's bullshit and you know it, Piermont Winston. Something is going on, and if it's not solved, it'll tear this charter apart. If Jax, Clay, and you are all at odds with one another, then we are in a shit ton of trouble. Two of the first nine and the fucking heir to the Sons throne? You look me in the eyes and tell me that this isn't a problem, and I'll be on my way."

Charlie finished her monologue, looking at her father and realizing how defeated and weary he looked.

"Fine." He said quietly. "You want to know, I'll tell you. But you can't act on anything. This is club business."

Charlie nodded, and settled in to listen to what her father had to tell her.

Charlie gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white and her fingers ached, but she knew that this was the only way to keep herself from losing it. Piney had told her everything, and boy did a lot happen while she was gone. That ATF bitch deserved to die for her part in Donna's death, although Charlie's first inclination was to take a knife and stab Tig right in the throat, but she realized that he was simply a pit bull taking orders from his owner. Clay Morrow was to blame for her sister-in-law's death. He was to blame for her brother's pain. He was to blame for her niece and nephew growing up without a mother.

But this was club business, and she wasn't a member, so she had no right to intervene. In fact, this reason contributed to her anger because she didn't have a leg to stand on when it came to club matters, and she technically shouldn't be privy to this information anyways. Charlie took a deep breath and released the steering wheel for a moment, stretching her fingers and allowing the blood to start flowing again. She didn't know where to go, or who to talk to. She couldn't talk to her brother; she knew that much at least. And that's when it dawned on her. She could talk to the next best thing: her surrogate brother, Jax Teller.

Charlie accelerated faster and set a course for Jax's new house. She had heard the guys talking about it, and Charlie knew where it was. She was within a few miles of the house when she heard sirens behind her, and she looked down at her speedometer to see that she was going almost twenty miles over the speed limit.

"Goddammit." She growled as she pulled over to the side of the road, rolled down her window, and started to dig around in her glove compartment for her registration.

"License and registration, please." A familiar voice said from the window. Charlie turned around quickly, and gasped.

"Holy shit, David!" She said, fighting back a laugh. "Look at you!"

David Hale looked up and his mouth dropped open. "Charlie? What the hell are you doing here?"

"David!" She said, opening the door and jumping out from the truck, grabbing him in a hug before he could react. "Oh my god. You're a fucking cop!"

She laughed as she pulled back, seeing the stunned look on his face. "Well my sister-in-law just died. Did you think I wouldn't come home for that?"

Charlie noticed that his face fell a little, and that he looked away from her, but she overlooked it. She noticed his badge and said, "Wow. David Hale, Deputy Chief of Charming Police Department. Shit, I guess I shouldn't be hugging you, huh? You're supposed to tough on crime and I'm close to the MC."

David snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, well, Unser's best buddies with Morrow, so I guess I can hug an old friend that I've just seen for the first time in six years. How've you been?"

"Good, really good, actually. You know, I got my Bachelor's and Master's while I was in Seattle, and I've got an interview at Thompson on Wednesday." Charlie ducked her head, then looked up at him. "I'm moving back home."

David swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. "That's great, Charlie. Really. I'm sure that Opie and Piney are glad that you're home."

"Yeah, they are." Charlie hugged him again, then climbed back into the truck. "Wow, David, it was really good to see you. We should get dinner sometime and catch up. I have to get over to Jax's now, though. I have to go see that beautiful boy of his."

It wasn't until the truck was almost out of sight that David remembered that he had pulled her over to give her a ticket.

Charlie was holding Abel, rocking him slowly as his eyes drifted shut. She looked over at Jax and found it hard to believe that he was a father. This boy that she grew up with, that she looked up to, was responsible for a tiny little life. It was hard to believe.

"You can't act on this, Charlie." Jax said, staring her down. "Piney shouldn't have told you any of this."

Charlie laughed softly. "Jax, I would do anything for the club, and you know that." Jax had no idea what she had already done for the club. "But I can't stand by and let Clay and Tig destroy what this club is about. Ordering the murder of a member behind the rest of the clubs back, and having a brother do it, and then botching it so badly that a members' wife dies? That is not okay, Jackson, and you know it. The power has gone to his head."

Jax stood up and started to pace the living room. "Don't you think I know that, Charlie? Don't you think I want to tell the rest of the club? Opie can't handle this, though. I mean, you know how badly this shook him up. He blames himself for Donna's death because he thinks it was Niner retaliation." Jax was almost talking to himself now. "But he can't know that it was Tig and Clay. He'll kill them both, and then he'll have to answer to the club for that. We could lose three members in a matter of minutes."

Charlie understood the predicament that Jax was in. He was trying to save the club at all costs, and Charlie agreed with that, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they were saving Tig and Clay too.

"My brother is hurting, Jax." Charlie said as she stood up carefully, cradling Abel in her arms. She walked over and transferred the sleeping baby into his arms, then looked him in the eyes. "Someone is going to pay for that." Charlie turned and picked up her purse, then headed towards the front door.

"You're not a club member, Charlie. You can't do anything." Jax said harshly from behind her.

Charlie clenched her teeth and looked back at him. "No, I'm not a club member. And I may just be the wimpy college educated daughter of a member to you guys, but I'm Piney fucking Winston's daughter, and he treated me like a son for most of my life. Don't underestimate me."

Charlie sat on top of a picnic table outside of the clubhouse with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in another, waiting on Bobby to be dropped off by the feds. She couldn't wait to see the old man, and she hated that he was being put through all of this bullshit. But that's a part of the club life. Charlie hadn't seen Jax since she had visited him earlier that day, and she was kind of glad that he wasn't there to glare at her. She'd been pushed aside when it came to club matters all her life, but now it affected her family directly, and she wasn't going to let this slide. Charlie took a deep drag off her cigarette and stared at Clay and Tig where they stood a few feet away. She wanted so badly to hurt them, to make them pay for what they had done to her family.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Juice interrupted her thoughts and Charlie jerked her face over to look at him.

Charlie was about to answer when a silver car pulled up in front of the clubhouse. "Who is that? That's way too nice a car for a fed." Charlie slid off the picnic table and headed towards the car, as did most of the club members and a few of the party guests. Charlie watched as four white men got out of the car. The one driving was a skinhead with a lot of tattoos while the man from the back drivers side was impeccably dressed. The other two men who exited the car looked a lot like the driver, but with more obvious Aryan ink. As the driver walked past Charlie, he nodded his head and said, "Ma'am" before turning his menacing glare on the club members.

"Garage is closed." Clay said as he and Tig stepped towards the men.

"We're not here for, uh, car repairs." The nicely dressed man replied. "I understand you're a Camacho fan." The man offered a box of cigars to Clay, but he didn't take them.

"Who are you?" Clay asked as his fellow members gathered around them. Charlie took a few steps forwards so that she could hear the exchange over the music.

"Just dropping by to give you a little friendly advice." The driver said, handing a business card to Clay.

"And what advice would that be?" Clay asked, looking down at the card.

"We feel it would be best for all concerned if you stop dealing arms to the Mayans and the One Niners." The nicely dressed man told Clay, and there was laughter from the other members.

Clay smiled and replied, "I don't even know what you're talking about. We're just mechanics and Harley lovers."

Tig leaned over to Clay, and Charlie stepped closer to hear Tig say, "That's one of Darby's guys back there." Tig was pointing with his eyes to one of the other men that had exited the car.

"Mr. Darby is one of our supporters." The nicely dressed man acknowledged.

Clay nodded, then started to walk around the men. "Expensive car. Hell of a suit. All of your teeth. You must be the top of the Aryan food chain."

"What you do for a living is between you and your maker." The man responded. "I'm not here to adjust your moral compass. This is just a reality check. You're a criminal and you're done selling guns to color."

Charlie saw Tig reach around his back, pulling his handgun from the back of his waistband with his right hand and pulling back the slide with his left, ensuring that a round was in the chamber. Charlie tensed up immediately and felt around to the back of her waistband to make sure her Makarov was in place.

"Are you gonna shoot me, Mr. Trager?" The man asked, putting a hand out to stop the driver from stepping forward. "With all these witnesses?"

Gemma came up behind Charlie and placed a hand on her shoulder as Clay chuckled and said, "Look, uh, I don't know what Darby told you, and I don't know what your angle is, but let me be real clear. Nobody threatens SAMCRO. And nobody tells us what we can and can't do. Black, brown, or white. So, why don't you just climb back into your little German clown car and drive back to Nazi town, hm? Cause the next time you piss all over my shoes, I will let him shoot you, no matter how many witnesses."

The man sighed. "My shop opens in a few weeks. Until then… Enjoy." He laid the box of cigars at Clays' feet and then motioned for the men to get into the car. As they passed Charlie and Gemma, the driver gave them both a onceover that put a lump in Charlie's throat. She didn't like him at all, and she wished that Tig had put a bullet in them both right there in the parking lot.