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General trigger warnings for this story: Language, smut, mentions of rape, abuse, drug use/overdose, violence/death.

CHAPTER 7: CAGED IN

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"Alright man, enough of the shit." Donut rumbled in that low, throaty voice as his hand swallowed Happy's bony shoulder - yanking him around to face him. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Get the fuck off me." Happy scowled, easily flinging the bigger man off of him as his eyes darkened and his lip turned up as the 'fight' portion of his 'fight or flight' mode kicked in - the mode that he had become unfamiliar with.

"Nah." Donut shook his head, his waved locks falling against his broad shoulders as he walked the bald man backwards so that he couldn't dodge his questions any longer. "I let this shit slide when she was in the hospital - let you ignore it while you hid in Tacoma, I aint doin it anymore. Not when our girl is out there looking like that." He angrily thrusted his finger towards the door.

"Like what?" Happy tried weakly, but he knew exactly what the brawny man meant.

"Sad. Pining for some fucking loser's attention." Donut sneered in frustration. "We taught her better than that. What the hell are you doing letting this happen?"

"I aint letting shit happen!" Happy yelled, his usually low voice raising loud enough to draw some attention from onlookers - but his threatening glare quickly scared them off.

"You're the only one she listens to." Donut countered, holding his pitch black gaze as he waited for a reaction that he knew wouldn't come from the infamously stoic man. "Well then you better start talkin', or I'm gonna have to find out from her." He challenged.

Happy stood still for a moment, contemplating the beating that he would be subjected to if Donut found out why they were no longer on speaking terms. "Go ahead." He decided with a curt nod. If there was one thing that he still knew about Sydney, it was that she had pride; she would never be able to look one of her oldest friends in the face and tell him the truth about what had happened - even if it was just her skewed perception that she refused to let him correct - especially if she was having more problems with Tig. And more problems with Tig might've just been exactly what he'd needed to be able to work his way back into the void in her heart that the Sergeant couldn't seem to fill…

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Sydney stayed close to Half-Sack's side as the evening progressed, grateful that their matching costumes provided her an excuse to linger around the only man who seemed to value her presence these days. She sat atop a picnic table with a few croweaters who had thrown together some last minute costumes once they saw that dressing up wasn't completely out of the question now that the young girl was around to set the tone, feeling herself getting tipsier and tipsier as she sipped on her third beer of the night - the sounds of the blaring music and babbling girls beginning to fade as the familiarly toxic boldness set in and brought her eyes wandering to Tig who lingered behind Clay and Gemma.

Tig felt his heart stop and his body shudder when he caught her staring him down from across the lot, looking so fucking good where she sat so angry because of him. Surprisingly, after months of hating himself for all of the horrible feelings that he had plagued her with, the thought of being able to anger her this intensely made his dick twitch - another feeling that he'd begrudgingly grown unaccustomed to.

It wasn't like he was a foreigner to her wrath - the two had become closely acquainted - but something about seeing her with Donut had uncrossed whatever wires had unintentionally gotten tangled in his brain since Donna's death; and for that, he was eternally grateful.

The brief moment of what Tig prayed was sexual tension was broken when the black Ford that they had all been waiting for finally pulled onto the lot, allowing himself to grin as the barrage of cheers arose for their guest of honour.

Sydney looked away as Tig joined in on the celebratory greeting where Bobby was practically yanked out of the unmarked police car by Precious, too busy listening in on the conversation going on behind her between Piney and Opie.

"It's Halloween." Piney sneered to his son who remained silent. "You know, I don't give a shit how bad you feel. You need to pull that sad little head out of your ass and go be a father… I'm tired of carrying your damn water, boy."

"Love you too, Pop…" Opie responded with what she was sure was a sarcastic smile laced with shame.

She wanted to giggle, to snicker, to find amusement in the blunt truth that the grieving man needed to hear, and the old man had no problem giving - but as the words hit her ears, she found her eyes being drawn back to Tig, and suddenly she felt a world of resentment that she had been working tirelessly to push down. If he had just been honest with her from the start - if she would've caught on seconds earlier, Opie's kids wouldn't be spending their favorite holiday, parentless, and she wouldn't be spending it, hopeless.

;

Donut remained at the bar as the crowd surrounded their most recent jailbird, chuckling as he watched the overweight man downing shots between bites of greasy food - thoroughly enjoying every second of his homecoming. He turned his attention away from the Northern Cali celebration, indulging in one of their celebrators instead; a cute brunette wearing a pair of cat ears who slid him another beer with a wink. He accepted the beverage gratefully, tipping it her way as he shot her a wink of his own - pressing himself up against the bar as the party began to move inside and the room began to fill.

He spotted Sydney among the sea of black leather easily, a smile coming to his face as his honey-coloured eyes grazed over her ethereal display that would be described as anything but holy. "Comin' to give me my three wishes?" He raised a brow once she was close enough - stealing her attention before it could drift to where Happy sat on a couch across the room with his arms crossed silently.

"That's a genie." She rolled her eyes, the giggle escaping her throat a little easier with the alcoholic lubrication.

"Ah." He swatted the air. "I bet I could still get 'em if I rubbed you the right way." He grinned wolfishly as his thick fingers dug into her thinly covered ribs, holding her against him as her knees immediately buckled. Tickling had always been her weakness.

Sydney squealed, kicked, and laughed until, amongst her flailing, she managed to lock eyes with Tig who appeared in the doorway. The reality of the situation punched her in the gut as she pulled herself from the large hands that suddenly felt like they were suffocating her, steadying herself against the bar as she regained her composure - contemplating whether or not another drink would help her push past the awkward and unfamiliar feeling that now buzzed beneath her skin. The impulsive, self-destructive side of her brain said fuck yes, but the logical side refused to let her forget what had happened the last time that she'd tried using that coping mechanism in the arms of a man that she didn't belong to.

But that was when they weren't together. "Hey, Jess!" She called to the petite woman who turned to face her with a smile. "Two tequilas, please." She grinned sweetly. She may have felt like she'd already lost Tig, but she wasn't going to lose herself, too - not again.

"What about me?" Donut pouted beside her, determined to break down the wall that he could see she was trying to build.

"Is that one of your wishes?" She looked up at him with a raised brow, a smirk tugging at her sparkly lips.

As if on cue, the song that usually would've sent Sydney bolting to the dancefloor began punching through the tension-thickened air - sending her heart on its final descent to the bottom of her stomach. She cleared her throat, avoiding Donut's knowing eyes as he raised a brow. "Dance with me?" She slid him one of her shots as she lifted the other one to her lips.

"Thought this was your song with Hap?" Donut finally saw his opportunity for answers as the trashy latin song blared through the speakers.

"Not anymore." Sydney growled, feeling her wandering eyes being regrettably drawn towards Happy as he looked at her, half-expectantly from across the crowded room that seemed to be lined with souvenirs of her failure, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. "Why?" Her head snapped back towards him as the frustration became overwhelming. "Don't think you can keep up?" She challenged.

Donut sighed as he looked between a brooding Happy, a threatening Tig, and a desperate Sydney. "You know they're both going to kick my ass, right?"

"Eh." She shrugged as she looked tentatively over her shoulder at the two men who had refused to show her an ounce of interest in the past months. "It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make." She winked - the playful expression faltering as she felt a small pinch in her badly bruised heart. Donut had always known what it was that she needed in her regretful moments of vulnerability, and he never held it against her - or brought attention to it.

Donut snorted, shaking his head with a smile. "You sure that leg's healed up enough? I think you are going to be the one having a hard time keeping up with me." He nodded to her thigh that brandished the scar proudly, and in the most Sydney way possible: tanned, and covered in glitter.

"Only one way to find out…" She mused as she lifted her hand, willing herself not to think about why she was doing what she was doing, and just enjoy it, as she would've been able to had this been any other day.

He led her to the dancefloor, assuming the proper position to her favorite dance with their chests pressed together and her hands in his as the beat began to pick up. She closed her eyes as she waited for the chorus to drop, focusing on nothing but the feeling of the rhythm that mingled with the alcohol and pushed a smile to her face when he began spinning her around. She grinned and giggled as he twirled her expertly - almost as good as Happy did. But as that comparison entered her mind, she could feel herself slowly falling out of tune, her eyes managing to catch his across the room even as she was spun around rapidly.

Donut frowned when he felt her beginning to shrink in his arms for the second time tonight, yanking her back to face him where he began moving his hips theatrically in time with hers.

Sydney giggled again, unable to stop herself from mimicking the movements now that she had the extra encouragement to get back into the flow. She spun herself back around as the song slowed down - grateful for her friend who was able to set his masculinity aside to make sure that she had a good time. That was something that Happy would never be able to do.

The pair finished the song off strong - attracting the kind of attention that Sydney was used to as she hit every single beat while she spun, stepped, grinded, and twirled. "Thank you…" She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck - a feat that still required her to stand on her tiptoes even in the ridiculously high heels.

Donut hugged her back, but he didn't release her as the next song began. "He giving you trouble again?" He asked tenderly as he kept her back to Tig while he stared daggers at the dark-haired man.

"He's been through a lot, D." Sydney sighed, feeling much less sensitive about the subject now that the discomfort of his touch had faded away - thankful that her tolerance had been built up enough to feel loose after the amount that she'd had to drink, and not belligerent the way that she'd been with Jax...

"And you haven't?" He pulled away, looking down at her with a scowl.

Sydney said nothing as she pulled her eyes away from his slightly blurry form, looking straight ahead at the 'Road Captain' flash on his chest instead.

"Why are you putting up with this, Syd?" He asked earnestly this time as she avoided his questioning gaze with a look that had him fearing the answer.

"You don't get it." She shook her head, a lump forming in her throat that suddenly felt far too dry.

"No, I don't." He nodded, catching her chin in his hand as he forced her eyes back to his. "I don't get why my fierce, ferocious Kitty Cat is letting some flea-bag put a collar on her." He mused with a playful smile that he hoped would help her realize that his inquisitions were harmless.

Sydney giggled, the threatening ache in her neck beginning to subside. "It's not him, it's…" She sighed as she looked around the room that she no longer knew her place in. "This."

"Life of a Son, honey bun." He winked. He knew that she wasn't being completely truthful, but he didn't feel the deceptive tense in her muscles when she'd answered the question, either.

"Yeah." She chuckled humorlessly. "I guess so..."

"So." Donut squeezed her waist as he made to change the subject - hoping to bring her back to the normalcy that he had temporarily been able to remind her of. "You gonna pay up for that lapdance?" He raised a brow, tossing a smirk in Tig's direction. Surely that would be enough to kick the asshole back into gear.

"I am a woman of my word…" She mused with a smirk of her own.

"Better be." He nodded. "You didn't even call me on my birthday, so that's good for two."

"Deal." She chuckled, taking his hand and leading him to the closest chair.

Tig stayed firmly planted in place as he watched Sydney's every move as she climbed into the Tacoma man's lap and grinded against him as if her life depended on it for not one, but two songs - his grip getting tighter around the beer bottle in his hand, and his kutte getting heavier over his heaving chest as his eyes darkened.

"Man… Who is that?" He heard from beside him, not bothering to look over and see who was asking because it didn't matter.

"My old lady…" A growl rumbled through his dry lips before he sucked them between his teeth in a hiss as his pants tightened and a grin came to his face. He wasn't jealous. He wasn't angry. He was aroused. And now he had a primal need to take back what belonged to him in the way that he knew she wanted - in the way that would fix everything.

The intoxication had hit at the perfect time and Sydney was able to completely lose herself in the moment and give the performance of a lifetime, thoroughly following through on her promise. She blinked her eyes open as the final song ended, a sinister smile coming to her flushed face as the enthralled crowd came into view. She tossed Donut a wink as she got to her feet, smirking at the sea of onlookers before she felt herself being hauled into a pair of familiar arms that couldn't possibly have felt more foreign.

"You bad girl…" Tig purred as his hands smoothed down her sides. "Now you're comin' with me…" He whispered against her temple.

"What about me, Princess? You missed my birthday too." Bobby hollered with an expectant shrug.

"Yeah! Me too!" Juice chimed in, feeling a little too bold next to his much bigger brother.

Sydney fought the urge to cringe under the hassling that yanked her right back down from the pedestal that she had managed to crawl her way up - desperately searching for the comfort that she used to feel in Tig's arms as she noticed that they weren't the only ones who seemed to be amused by the drama as the fascination on the faces of her spectators began to turn to judgment as they watched her hop from Son to Son.

"You know how I can tell they're fighting?" Bobby leaned over to Juice, mumbling just loud enough that Sydney was able to hear.

"How?" Juice scowled.

"They aint covered in hickeys." He laughed heartily, shoving another roll into his mouth.

Sydney stiffened as the dreadful rush of embarrassment crashed through her quickly eroding veins, once again. She had always taken pride in how affectionate they were - no matter how many people had tried to tell her that she shouldn't - but she now realized that the problem with having such a public, passionate relationship was that everybody could tell when something was off.

"You just wanna hide me away so that nobody else can look at me." She spit out as she whipped her head back towards Tig, ignoring the dizziness from the sudden movement as she met his eyes with a hardened glare. "I know that you don't wanna fuck me any more than you did this morning." Her lower lip trembled as she delivered the equally venomous statement in a lower tone this time.

"Baby…" Tig winced. He hadn't exactly thought that rekindling such a raging blaze would be easy, but he had hoped that the heat of the moment would've at least warmed the coals. "You know that's not tru-"

"Tig!" The frantic voice cut off his plea, turning to see Half-Sack standing in the doorway, pointing to the dark Mercedes cruising through the parting crowd.

Sydney didn't let up on her stare as his brows furrowed, breaking away once he regained eye contact - making her way outside to see what the cause for concern was with him hot on her heels.

"What the hell is this?" Clay mumbled from the doorway where he was standing with Gemma, his scowl getting deeper and deeper as he realized that the familiar looking vehicle was not silver like Rosen's - it was black. He pressed his hand to his wife's chest to keep her back, nodding to his Sergeant as the two began making their way towards the gate to greet their unexpected guests.

Sydney was too distracted by the unknown identities of the two men who stepped out of the fancy car to notice that Happy had followed them outside, and was walking next to her where she followed closely behind Tig and Clay.

"Garage is closed." Clay called out to the pair of middle-aged men who met his threatening strides with a confidence that he did not appreciate - especially on his own turf.

"We're not here for car repairs." A suited man with grey hair answered, holding out a small box to the outlaw President. "I understand you're a Camacho fan." He forced a smile.

Sydney scowled as two more men got out of the vehicle - these ones not dressed nearly as sharp as their more eager counterparts. She took a few steps closer as footsteps closed in around her - the thick crowd of bikers clearly joining her in feeling as if this was a threat.

"Who are you?" Clay raised a brow.

"Oh!" The man who had given him the box perked up, peering around him to look at Sydney. "I see you are in the presence of the Cali Queen." He nodded his greeting - the greeting that he shouldn't have known to use.

Sydney's forehead creased as the sound of a cocking gun filled her ears, watching out of the corner of her eye as Happy stepped in front of her.

"Oh, and the Tacoma Killer." He taunted with another moniker that he shouldn't have known about - temporarily tabling Sydney's indifference towards Happy as they shared a side-eyed glance of concern.

"What do you want?" Clay asked as he studied the box of cigars from the cocky man who had yet to reveal his cards - but he could tell that by the extensive research that he'd done, he was about to go all in.

"Just dropping by to give you a little friendly advice." The shorter, balder, and beadier-eyed man answered, leaning in front of his boss as he handed Clay a business card.

"And what advice would that be?" Clay raised a brow as he turned the 'League of American Nationalists' card between his fingers, looking up with a sarcastic smile.

"We feel it would be best for all concerned if you stopped dealing arms to the One-Niners and the Mayans." The taller man nodded confidently.

Clay, Tig, Happy, and anybody else who was in earshot all began laughing after a second's hesitation. "I don't even know what you're talking about…" Clay looked around at his crew as they too feigned confusion. "We're just mechanics, and Harley lovers."

But Sydney didn't bother trying to make them think that they had it all wrong, because as she scanned over who their entourage was made up of, it became clear to her that they knew that they didn't.

"Balls heal up good, Izzy?" She called to the tall bald man standing beside the sleek sedan with his arms crossed in front of him.

"You wanna find out, Princess?" He let out a menacing grin before Tig cut it short, pulling out his gun next as he took a step forward.

"Are you going to shoot him, Mr. Trager?" Suit-man mock-pouted, leaning forward where his right-hand pulled him back. "With all these witnesses?"

Tig stared all four men down harshly as he seriously contemplated the question that felt more personal than it should've - but he couldn't tell if that was his guilt talking or not.

Sydney cursed her deprived body that was no longer operating under the ignorant veil of intoxication as her thighs instinctually pressed together as she watched Tig in full Sergeant mode, in full old man mode - a mode that he no longer allowed her to claim.

"Darby's guy." Tig mumbled by way of explanation as Clay stepped forward.

"Mr. Darby is one of our supporters." The man nodded.

"Mm." Clay nodded, both unamused and unsurprised - waltzing out in front of Tig and rounding his new rivals in a circle as he sized them up. "Expensive car, hell of a suit, all your teeth… You must be at the top of the Aryan food chain, huh?" He mused with a raise of his brows.

"What you do for a living is between you and your maker." Zobelle felt himself beginning to shake with anger. "I'm not here to adjust your 'moral compass'." He mocked. "This is just a reality check - you're a criminal and you're done selling guns to color."

"Look, uh…" Clay sighed. "I don't know what Darby told you, and uh - 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." He narrowed his eyes. "So why don't you climb back into your little German clown car and drive on back to Nazi town. Because next time you come onto my property, and piss on my shoes? He will kill you." He nodded to Tig. "And I don't give a shit how many witnesses there are."

"My shop opens in a few weeks." The man nodded to the box in Clay's hand. "Until then? Enjoy." He gave a curt nod and a polite smile, retreating back to his vehicle and disappearing as quickly as he'd shown up.

Sydney took the opportunity to make her escape while everybody was distracted by their mystery guests, slipping away from the Sons who crowded Clay as they tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened. She rounded the clubhouse, making her way to her car that she had sensibly decided to park along the street before the sizable party began - hearing nothing but the hollow sounds of her heavy shoes against the pavement, bouncing off of the concrete building and echoing in her ringing ears.

"Syd!" She heard behind her, the desperate plea only adding to the bleak reality of each step that she took.

"Hey, hey." Half-Sack finally caught up to her - a challenging task even in her ridiculously high heels. "Sydney, wait." He reached out and grabbed her arm gently, bracing himself for the same reaction that he'd gotten the last time that he'd done that.

"I'm fucking humiliated Kip, please." Sydney begged as a sob clawed painfully up her throat.

"Don't cry." Half-Sack shook his head, placing his hands on her trembling biceps once he was confident that he wasn't going to be slapped. "You'll ruin your makeup."

"It doesn't fucking matter." She shook her head. "He doesn't care."

Half-Sack winced as his heart clenched painfully for his friend that he wished he knew how to comfort. "You know there isn't a single guy here that wouldn't kill to be with you…" He tried, uttering the sincere words with as much conviction as he possibly could.

"I don't give a shit about anyone else." She choked out, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. "I only want it from him."

"It'll come back, Syd…" He pressed on. "You know shit's just tense right now - Bobby, Donna. But we're gonna get through it."

"Look around, Kip…" She whispered shakily as she looked over his shoulder at the mass of black leather that didn't have a single concern for her absence. "I don't belong here…"

Half-Sack refused to turn around, because he knew it would only prove the point that she was trying to make - the point that he wished would be easier to argue.

"And please don't tell me that I do… We both know it's a lie." Her pained voice barely uttered out the plea.

"He's your old man… Doesn't that mean something?" He asked quietly. She - and others - may not have thought that she belonged as a member, but surely she knew that she belonged as an old lady?

"I don't know anymore…" She told him what she only wished was a lie, hanging her head as they both stood silently under the crushing weight of the truth.

"Do you miss her?" Half-Sack's eyes flew open - ripping him from the frantic search for the right thing to say that had inadvertently closed them in the first place. He felt a shiver rippling under his skin as her long nails grazed his chest, finally processing her words as she realized that she was stroking the tiny pendant that sat around his neck.

Sydney sighed when his saddened eyes fell closed in response. "I miss him too…" She nodded as she ran her fingers over the ring on her thumb.

She missed Tig more than she had ever missed anything in her life. She missed his hands, his lips, his love. She missed him more than she missed Happy, and she missed him even more than she missed her dad. Because at least Happy and her dad were gone - she had a reason to miss them. But she had no reason to miss somebody that slept next to her every night.

;

If you saw me reuse that last line about missing Happy and her dad because I have no self control and decided that it worked better here than a few chapters ago… No you didn't.

Song for this chapter

Whine Up - Kat Deluna ft. Elephant Man