Sydney's worries about her seat at the table are abolished as Clay assures both her and her past that history will not be repeating itself this time.
General trigger warnings for this story: Language, smut, mentions of rape, mentions of drug use/overdose, violence/death, racism/gang activity.
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CHAPTER 53: COME JOIN THE MURDER
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"The feds are in there questioning her." Tig paced up and down the ramp outside of the hospital. "I don't like this, Clay."
"We expected this." In less than a day, Clay's plan would finally be put into motion, everything would be out on the table, and everybody would be protected - he just needed Tig to stay calm until then. "She knows what to say. We'll get it all sorted out tomorrow, brother. I promise."
"Yeah… Okay." Tig forced his rage to simmer at the request of his President. "How's SAMDINO with all of this?"
"Eh…" Clay looked across the lot to the picnic table that was surrounded by antsy Southern Cali Sons. "Ain't happy but… Ain't exactly surprised either..."
"Yeah, I guess that's true." Tig chortled. At least that meant that there was one less phony explanation that he needed to come up with.
"How's she doin'?" Clay's tone softened.
"Better today." Tig nodded as he squinted under the sun. "I'm worried, though. She's… fragile. " He tried to find the right word. "I don't know how she's gonna feel showin' up in a wheelchair with everybody there."
"Whatever she wants, whatever will help... We make it happen." The older man nodded.
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"Baby." Tig blinked out of his haze as his eyes refocused on the photo of Pamela Anderson that he had zoned out to. "I thought that this was supposed to be putting me to sleep." She scoffed, reaching over and pushing the overhead lamp closer to where he was reading her the newest edition of Us Weekly in the chair next to her bed.
'Uh—" He quickly flipped the page of the magazine before he looked over to see Sydney narrowing her eyes. "You, uh—" He rubbed the back of his neck before flipping back to the glossy photo displaying the actress' latest shoot. "You look like her." He nodded eagerly as a bashful smile tugged at his lips.
"Mhmm." Sydney nodded, unconvinced as a knowing smirk came to her face. "Go closer to the back, I wanna hear what's in for winter."
"But it's August?" He scowled.
"Yeah but they always do it in advance." She rolled her eyes as if that was a fact that everybody should've known—even middle-aged bikers.
"How would they know what's gonna be in for winter if we ain't in winter yet?" He felt the muscles in his face contracting in confusion as he followed her orders, flipping past the montage of celebrity gossip until he finally reached the 'What's Hot for the Cold?' article. 'Suck in those stomachs and hit the ellipticals, ladies—" He began with a sigh.
Sydney felt the amusement bubbling in her stomach as he narrated the pretentious, snobby articles in an exaggerated monotone, hiding her budding smile in her wavy hair.
"Because high-waisted is on its way out." He shook his head sorrowfully as he read what he could only assume was the worst news ever—and apparently it was.
"Ugh!" Sydney slammed her head back against her pillow where she dragged her hands down her face. "No..." She whined dramatically.
"What?" Tig raised a brow, unsure if she was playing into his theatrics, or if this was actually cause for female concern.
Sydney blinked incredulously as she flopped over onto her side. "Does my ass look like it fits into those tiny pants that the Cara Cara girls wear?" She raised a brow. "No, Tig. It doesn't. My ass doesn't fit into anything that doesn't almost touch my bellybutton."
Tig was the one wearing a smirk of amusement now. "No one said that it had to fit..." He grinned, reaching up to turn off the lamp as he leant over her.
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Sydney sat on the edge of her hospital bed in a pink velour sweatsuit, staring distantly out the window beyond the small buildings and tall trees as people buzzed around her, clearing her room of the multiple bags and bouquets that she had filled it with during her short stay. Her final day had whirled past her, leaving her with nothing but dread as Chibs and Half-Sack loaded her belongings into the van while Gemma got her medication from the doctor, and Tig oversaw everything with an ever-so watchful eye.
"Where d'you want these when we get to your house?" Half-Sack asked as he hauled the last armful of flower vases out of the room.
Sydney's hollow eyes stared far past him where he had entered her field of view, not doing as little as blinking as he spoke directly to her. He looked nervously to Tig for direction, who was standing in the doorway looking just as concerned.
"Uh-" The dark-haired man stared at the back of Sydney's head as she stayed silent. "Kitchen's fine." He answered for her, rounding the bed where he sat himself beside her. "You okay?" He nudged her arm gently, whispering even though they were the only ones left in the room.
"Yeah." She blinked a few times, shaking her head as she came back to earth at the sound of his voice. "Yeah, just tired." Even after days of resentment and discomfort, she would've given anything to stay another night in that damn room.
"You nervous?"
"Tiggy..." She sighed, silently pleading with desperate eyes for him not to press the issue.
"Nah, we're not doin' this." He shook his head, reaching over and swiftly maneuvering her into his lap. "Tell me, so that I can make it easier for you." He spoke against her neck as he hugged her tightly.
"Yes, I'm nervous." She admitted through the small smile that he'd conjured up.
"Why?" He asked gently.
"You know why..." She rolled her eyes.
He looked up at her with a brow raised, not satisfied with that answer as he shook his head, taking her face in his hands. "Tell me..." He looked into her eyes with a depth that made her uncomfortable as she jerked away. "Tell me..." He repeated softer, guiding her towards his lips where he kissed her cheek, then the other cheek, then her nose, then each of her eyelids until he could see a smile forming on her hardened face.
"I don't want them to look at me differently..." She spoke sadly as she avoided his eyes, looking down at her hands which were fiddling with the black shirt that he wore under his kutte. "Everyone's gonna be watching me, knowing that I'm hurt… Looking for weakness… The same thing's gonna happen as before." She shook her head.
"Would it help if you walked?" He figured that a limp was much less crippling than a wheelchair.
"I can't walk." She scoffed.
"You were tearin' up the hallways yesterday." He frowned.
"Not well." She rolled her eyes.
"What if I throw ya over my shoulder? You were okay with that before." He grinned, poking her in the ribs as he tried to lighten the mood.
"You might be onto something…" She chortled.
"Hey." He lifted her head so that he could look into her eyes. "You took a bullet for the club; for the President. Okay? Nobody is expecting you to walk in there like you didn't."
"That's the problem…"
"We all get hurt… My leg, my ass." He reminded her with a smile. "Nobody thinks anything of it. You being a woman doesn't make that any different, unless you think that it does. Okay? It's all in your head. You're one of us."
"Okay." She nodded softly. She wasn't anywhere near convinced, but she appreciated his efforts that had surprisingly provided her with some hope to cling to.
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"It's not coming." Sydney shook her head as she begrudgingly allowed Gemma to wheel her out to the van where Tig was waiting to take her home.
"Oh yes it is." Gemma nodded as she pressed the button to activate the automatic doors of the ICU. "You need it."
"I don't need it." She rolled her eyes.
"Sydney." Gemma stopped, rounding the wheelchair so that she could face her. "You have muscle damage from a bullet wound that will not heal if you aren't using this." She nudged the metal chair with the toe of her strappy black shoe. "The few minutes of walking everyday that you've been allowed by the doctor is not enough to get you where I know you're wanting to go." She narrowed her eyes.
"Y-you talked to the doctor?" Sydney asked shakily, she should've known that she wouldn't have been able to keep something like this from The Matriarch.
"Of course I did." Gemma scowled. "I take that as meaning that you didn't tell Tig?" She raised a brow.
"I didn't want him to worry more than he had to..." Sydney looked down at her wringing hands.
"Well he's gonna be worrying when he's bringing you back here in a few weeks to amputate your leg!" She shook her head incredulously.
"I can walk around." She rolled her eyes at Gemma's dramatics. "I just have to be careful about how much for the first few days. As long as I take all my pills and lay low for the next couple of weeks, I'll heal up just fine." She initiated a staredown with the older woman who stood with her lips pursed, and her hands on her hips.
"Fine." She decided, rounding the wheelchair where she resumed pushing. "But just know that I am going to be watching you like a hawk."
"That's been made very clear." Sydney scoffed.
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Tig pulled the van into Sydney's driveway after a silent ride from the hospital. "Happy to be home?" He looked over at her hopefully, placing his hand on her knee.
She nodded, turning away from him as she opened the door and climbed down carefully where she began hobbling up the pathway, gasping when she felt herself being lifted off of the ground, and thrown over Tig's shoulder.
Tig chuckled as he kicked the door open, carrying her through to the kitchen where he set her on the island. "I'm gonna spank that ass if you don't let me take care of it." He shook his head with mock-anger before walking to the fridge.
"Don't tempt me with a good time." She smirked, spinning around to face him as she carefully crossed her legs.
"Feel okay?" He nodded to her thigh as he slid her a beer, and pulled out a joint.
She nodded, gratefully accepting the Corona which she tipped back, downing half of its contents in one gulp - letting out a satisfied sigh as she set the glass bottle down to the marble countertop.
Tig watched her with a knowing smile, circling his arm around her waist where he pulled her towards him, placing the joint between her lips and lighting the end, letting her take a drag before replacing it with a cigarette, and lighting the end of that as well.
"Damn..." She exhaled into a coughing fit. "What would I do without you looking out for my health?" She chuckled, expelling the leftover smoke in her lungs.
"Post-hospital remedy." He winked, placing his hands on her hips as he stood between her legs.
"I'm gonna need it." She scoffed, bringing the cigarette to her lips.
"It'll be okay, baby." He assured her with a gentle nod.
"Um-" Sydney looked down as she twirled his ring around her thumb, feeling the guilt flooding her when once again, he was doing everything in his power to make things easier for her, and she couldn't even be honest with him. "There is something you could do… That would help." She peered up at him through her lashes, knowing that it was the only way that she would be able to get through the day...
"What is it?" He asked eagerly.
"Let me be alone for a bit…" She watched the concern wash over his face. "I just need to know that I'm okay on my own."
"Sydney..." He shook his head with a sigh.
"Just before church." She pleaded. "I just need a couple hours while I get ready. It'll help me feel more... Normal."
He stared at her for a few seconds. "Okay..." He sighed. "But the prospect will be outside."
"That's okay." She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you..." She pressed her lips against his jaw.
Tig exhaled through his nose and rolled his eyes as his body melted under her touch, as it always had. He wasn't sure if there was anything that he wouldn't do for her - no matter how badly he may not have wanted to.
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Half-Sack sat outside of Sydney's house in the van - as per Tig's instructions - furiously gaming away on his Nintendo when he was startled by the piercing ring of his burner. "Hello?" He scrambled to answer once he saw that it was Sydney calling, jumping out of the vehicle and running up to the door. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She chuckled.
"Oh." He stopped dead in his tracks, looking over his shoulder before trying to awkwardly play off his panic as he made his way back to the van.
"Tig's coming to get me for church, you can head back."
"Okay." He nodded, snapping his phone shut and getting back into the driver's seat as fast as possible after the embarrassing display that he only hoped nobody had seen.
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Happy pulled onto the compound, meandering through the maze of bikes and vehicles which he recognized to be a combination of SAMCRO, SAMDINO, SAMTAC, and a few from both Nevada charters. His frustration had only built after the altercation with Sydney the day before, but he hoped that after this meeting he would finally be able to avenge her the way that she deserved.
"Hey, Hap." Clay greeted the Nomad with a sympathetic smile, waltzing out from the office where Gemma was gathering the croweaters in preparation for the highly anticipated meeting.
"All those Mayans are dead!" He growled, too fired up to respond with anything else. "Like, a lot!"
"I hear ya." Clay nodded. "Why don't you come inside, sit down, and listen to what I got to say, huh? I think I got somethin' you'll be more than satisfied with." Happy nodded his strong chin, following the Redwood President into the clubhouse.
"Hap." Packer nodded once his eyes landed on the familiarly stoic face, greeting the taller man with a hug. "How's our girl?"
"Okay." He nodded, feeling guilty all over again as he quickly shuffled away before he could be questioned by any of his other San Bernardino brothers that he had been desperately trying to avoid, taking his seat at the table.
Clay looked to Tig for an explanation as he entered the fully packed room where Sydney was nowhere in sight, taking his seat at the head of the table. "Sack's bringin' her..." Tig grumbled apologetically on behalf of the clumsy prospect.
"Yeah?" Clay raised a brow as he looked out the door at Half-Sack who was hauling beer cases behind the bar.
"What the?" Tig's face contorted. "Sack!" The poor kid ran into the chapel immediately, keeping his head down as every pair of eyes landed on him. "Where the hell is Sydney?"
"She, uh-" He looked around the full room nervously. "S-she told me you were bringin' her..."
"What?" Tig shook his head as some snickers arose from the SAMDINO guys who were all too familiar with this kind of ordeal.
"Yeah, man." He began digging in his pockets for his phone. "Look, she called me-"
Sydney strutted through the doors of the clubhouse just as she had every day for the last two months. Her heels against the bar floor echoed in the empty room as she trembled nervously beneath her leather jacket and tight black jeans - the choice of which forced her body not to succumb to the limp that had her fighting a mind-numbing pain, but she reminded herself that it would only be for a few more minutes, and it would be worth it. It was just like Tig had said, nobody expected her to walk in there like she hadn't been shot, which was why she was determined to do just that.
Tig closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose once the unmistakable sound hit his ears. He shook his head, finally opening his eyes to see her standing in the doorway.
"Sorry... Traffic." She shrugged, smirking as she brushed her long hair over her shoulder, basking in the whoops and hollers that arose from the men who raced to greet her, thank her, and congratulate her. This was the kind of attention that she could tolerate; the kind where nobody was fussing over her injury, or checking to see if she was okay - the kind that made her feel like she had nothing to worry about.
The excitement eventually died down, and Sydney was finally able to take her seat - which, thankfully, Chibs had left her next to Tig. She sat down, looking around the table where she came face to face with Happy, feeling the rush of anger returning instantly as he sat there, stone-faced and staring at her - which she refused to cower under until she felt Tig's hand on her knee, turning her attention back to the man who deserved it.
Clay stared at the gavel as everybody settled and reminded themselves of the situation that they were in, mentally running through his speech that would likely determine the fate of their entire organization. "I know that things have been a little hazy…" He began, taking a deep breath as he leaned over the table.
Even though Tig wanted to keep up his charade of mock-frustration over Sydney's recklessness, he knew that even though she masked it well, she had to be in a world of pain. He discreetly offered her his hand under the table, which she took gratefully, squeezing it hard as she kept her expression completely blank.
"Some of you know what's going on... Some of you only know what you've been told. I wanna clear all that up." Clay gratefully accepted the nods that came from Jury, Rollie, and Packer. "A couple of months ago, Mayans torched our warehouse - some treaty forged with the Nords behind bars. We found that out when we retaliated; blew their warehouse up in return. Nords laid low after that, Mayans laid lower, only pulling their dicks out when we crossed over into NV." He nodded to the Indian Hills President. "Where shit got confusing was when they showed up in Vegas a few weeks later, standing off with you guys for what seemed like no reason other than intimidation. But what you don't know, is that there was a reason." Sydney's brows creased, looking to Tig who was just as confused as she was, just as confused as Jax was, just as confused as everyone was. "We blew up one of their pack shacks right before we drove the guns up to Indian Hills. Now the reason we didn't understand why they were coming after you." Clay looked between the two Nevada Presidents. "Was because we left no witnesses, and as far as we knew, nobody else knew about the guns… That turned out to be false." The room was filled with scowls and furrowed brows as everybody - SAMCRO included - waited for the culprit to be revealed.
Jax nervously chewed his lip as Jury crossed his arms, looking at Clay with what he knew to be suspicion, along with multiple other members who snuffed out their cigarettes, or squinted their tired eyes.
"There was another threat at large; Josh Kohn, an A.T.F. agent who had something personal against the club." He looked directly at Jax. "It was only recently brought to my attention that the threat had been bigger than we'd originally thought. He stuck around town for a bit, pissed on our shoes while he gathered enough intel to be able to up the ante - reached out to other parties and offered them ways to take us down."
Sydney and Jax shared a glance as the light bulbs finally went off in their heads. This had been the missing piece of their puzzle all along; Kohn, it finally all made sense. Only Jax wasn't relieved, he was worried. He felt every single organ in his body shift a few inches lower as he realized that Clay had known about Kohn the whole time, had known about Tara the whole time, had known about him keeping this from the club the whole time.
"That threat's been eliminated, but it was what prompted the hit that was supposed to result in my head on a spike, which would've been successful if it weren't for you..." Clay nodded to Sydney, initiating a round of respectful nods followed by bangs on the table. "Now, the reason I've asked you all here… Is because what happened the other night can never happen again." Many of the men nodded, blinked, or grunted their agreement. "Not just somebody tryna off me, but bodies dropping in Charming because of us." They were in hotwater with A.T.F., Kohn or no Kohn, he couldn't have any more close calls. "Somewhere along the way, the Mayan/Nord deal went bad. Alvarez went after me and Darby - different target, same war. Now if we fire back… We can't stop the blowback from hitting home." Jax nodded along, regardless of Clay's knowledge of Kohn, he fully supported his President choosing the path of least resistance - for once "Which is why I sat down with Alvarez, and Darby."
A medley of gasps and questions filled the tension-thick air following the white-haired man's shocking admittance. "What, just the two of ya?" Tig scowled.
"Where?" Jax asked.
"Unser's cage. We, uh, we discussed our outstanding issues, compared notes, and came to a conclusion." He nodded.
"What kinda conclusion?" Bobby raised a brow as he chewed on a peanut shell.
"All Darby wants is to keep cooking his crank north of Charming. Alvarez… Well, he gave me the information; the truth that we needed to finally understand what was going on, and how to stop it. We have the same common goal; money. So, we sell them guns, they settle all their beefs, with all of us." He gestured around the room. "Any territory hassles, any business disputes - it all lands in our favor."
"You made that call without a vote?" Piney drawled.
"I set it up." Clay kept the bite out of his tone as the bitter old man gathered nothing from the revolutionary move, but secrecy - something Jax should've been catching the flack for. "We vote on it now. If this thing passes? You all sit down with the Mayans in your own territories, and you work shit out - take the win."
"What about Laroy and the Niners?" Juice shook his head. "We've had a deal with them for years; we don't sell guns to the Mexicans."
"Juice, Laroy ain't got no loyalty to us." Jax scoffed. "He's been buyin' from other dealers, pressing us for discounts. There ain't no reason at all that we can't branch out."
Sydney blinked in surprise when Jax so valiantly argued to go against Laroy and risk tripping something with the other Oakland gang, a proud smile coming to her face. Maybe he was ready to accept his role as Vice President, after all - or maybe he was just kissing Clay's ass.
"The peace that we make with the Mayans could start somethin' a lot worse with the Niners..." Bobby pointed out.
"We'll deal with that fire when it catches." Clay shrugged. "Niners only got one crew, Mayans got dozens. This ain't just about us, here." He looked around the room at the various rockers from around the west coast.
"These assholes tried to kill you, man. Almost succeeded in killing her." Tig nodded to Sydney, scrunching his face in disgust. "We're just supposed to pretend that didn't happen?"
"Yeah." Happy agreed with a piercing black stare, hearing a few other members around him chiming in with the same argument.
"Nah, that debt gets settled." Clay assured Sydney's greatest protectors. "But not by us." Tig and Jax's brows both creased. "It's gotta be some outside charter..." He looked to Happy with his brows raised expectantly. "You up for it?"
Happy felt a sinister grin coming to his face. Clay was right, this solution was satisfying. He nodded firmly as he began running through all of the things he was going to do to those filthy Mayans. "I'll do thi-"
"No." Sydney interrupted him, speaking for the first time since the lengthy meeting had begun. "I do it." She shook her head as she looked at Clay, her grip constricting around Tig's hand as she grew angrier, which rivalled the previous grip she'd had out of pain - and he'd thought that one had been tight.
The reaction earned Sydney more than just a few turned heads, but she didn't care. This was the only way that she could make up for what had been done in the past, and be sure that it didn't have the same detrimental effect that had followed her ever since, and she was going to enjoy every last drop.
"Makes sense…" Clay shrugged. He was happy to let her have this if she wanted it; it would keep her square, and technically, it still fell under Alvarez's guidelines.
"No." Happy shook his head.
"This is mine." She sneered, whipping her head in his direction.
"They already tried to kill you once." He shook his head. He needed to do something to help the situation that he'd so badly misjudged, and he couldn't make amends if she was trying to take what he'd planned on doing to make it up to her. "I'll fix it." He nodded. "Make sure it don't ever happen again."
"This isn't your revenge!" She slammed her hands down on the table as he belittled her in front of everybody, staring him down with hardened eyes and a heaving chest. He had taken her revenge once before - and apparently had never let it go - and she wasn't going to let it happen again, even if she was bound to a wheelchair.
"Princess' still got that temper!" Tank hollered, filling the room with his obnoxiously throaty laugh.
Sydney's anger turned to a rage that surpassed the point of an outburst. Her fiery gaze shifted to the short-haired man as she felt herself slowly rising out of her chair, pushing Tig's restraining hand away once he realized what she was doing.
"Get out." Her voice was low, level, and cold as ice as she stared him down, ignoring the looks of shock that her boldness was earning her.
Tank waited for the punchline, or for her to let up after making him shit bricks, like she always did, but it never came. "Look at our little baby Syd... A few months on the dick of the Sergeant and she thinks that she can tell a patched member to leave his own table meeting." He scoffed, his brow raising as she remained standing. "You sure that bullet went to your leg, and not your brain?"
"You heard her." Clay's gravelly voice traveled the table as his eyes stayed fixed on the gavel.
"What?" Tank exclaimed in utter shock.
"This ain't your table meeting, it's mine. And you don't talk to any of my guys like that, regardless of whose dick they sit on." Clay nodded to the fuming San Bernardino Son who's face turned beet red as he tried to hold in his outburst. "Get out!"
Sydney had no idea what she'd actually expected to happen, but she was shocked when Clay backed the bold move that so easily could've been seen as a blatant disregard for the rules of hierarchy. She smirked as a rush of power recharged her crumpling body, trumping the pain as her gaze followed Tank who made his way around the table, staring him down as he exited the chapel.
She was surprised by the Redwood charter, they had managed to uncover and tame the madness in her absence; tightly wrapping it in a shiny bow for her return - which they seemed to have no problem in waiting for while after honouring her requests without hesitation. Not only was it now clear that they trusted in her judgment, but they valued her opinion. Maybe Tig was right, maybe she was one of them.
Sydney slowly retook her seat, glancing around the room with a warning for anybody else who felt like testing her. This was her territory now, and nobody disrespected her on her home turf.
Clay nodded to Happy once she was seated, who was sitting with his eyes wide, finally nodding back to the SAMCRO President as he backed off, sinking down in his chair. "You okay with all this?" Clay looked to Sydney for confirmation before he called the final vote.
Sydney nodded curtly. She hadn't thought at all about retaliation while she'd been at the hospital because she'd known that something larger had to be at play. But now that everything was clear, she was satisfied that this was the smartest solution to keep all parties in the black. "What do you want me to do with Laroy?" She had no problem with the decision to cross the sleazy gangster that she was sure was gearing up to cross them in return, but she was their broker, after all.
"Cameron's gonna be gettin' back to us about Hefner later tonight. We should have the guns soon enough... Keep him happy until he ain't happy anymore." Clay suggested with a shrug, to which she nodded her agreement. "Alright." He exhaled, addressing the whole room again as his eyes wandered over the mass of leather-covered bodies. "All in favor of the Mayan deal?"
Tig turned the charms on the chain around his neck between his fingers, focusing solely on the feeling of the smooth heart and the jagged spiral as he tried to keep himself from spiralling. He didn't feel that the resolution was nearly restitution enough for this kind of act, and the fact that Sydney had been on the receiving end of it only weighed his dissatisfaction that much more, but if this was what she and Clay wanted, he would have to oblige. He raised his hand, following his President in sync with Jax, which was then followed by Happy, then Bobby, then Chibs, until every arm around the table was raised - every arm except Sydney's.
Clay looked to her with a nod, blinking his blessing as he waited for her arm to join the masses where it belonged, but she responded with a simple shake of her head. She would vote alongside her brothers one day, but when she did, it would be with a reaper on her back.
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Songs for this chapter
Finish Line - SATV Music
Hard - Rihanna (feat. Jeezy)