Sydney tries to find new ways to cope with the hole that Happy left in her heart - and the hole that the bullet left in her leg. Meanwhile, Jax struggles to accept that Opie wants to pledge his life to the reaper, the way that he has been forced to.

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

Playlists are available on Apple Music (mssierraalexis), and Spotify (M.S. Alexis), links can also be found on the ARAC Tumblr (aravenamongcrows). Be sure to follow where ask and submissions are open, and m. s. alexis on Instagram (tracking #aravenamongcrows), for exclusive photos, updates, and more!

CHAPTER 55: SCAR TISSUE

;

Tig arrived back at the clubhouse just as it began to get dark, having to opt for street parking since the compound was filled to the brim with the club, and all of their associates. He frowned as he pulled off his helmet and slung it over his handlebars, his heavy feet carrying him closer to the noisy party.

Gemma was weaving her way through the crowd with a hot tray of barbecued wings when she saw Tig moseying dismally through the gates, a frown coming to her face. She was happy to see that Sydney was at home resting rather than continuing her reckless streak, but she hated to see Tig looking so lost—a look that she hadn't seen on him in a long time. The Matriarch passed the aluminum container off onto a croweater, making her way over to the lonely Sergeant.

"Hey, baby." She placed her hand on his shoulder, rolling her fingers over the tense muscles. "You okay?"

"Oh, hey, Gem." Tig pulled himself from his pity-party to hug his friend. "I'm okay." He nodded unconvincingly as he avoided her invasive gaze, scanning the compound for Clay, who he spotted sitting at a long table along with the rest of SAMCRO. "Um—" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you think you could go check on Syd? Maybe bring her some dinner? She wouldn't eat earlier, and I—"

"Sure." Gemma cut him off with a nod, letting him know that he didn't need to explain as she patted him on the shoulder.

"Thanks." Tig smiled, handing her his keys and kissing her on the cheek before heading over to where his club was waiting for him.

;

Sydney scowled when she heard the lock jiggling on her front door from where she sat on the couch. She'd decided that Tig had earned himself some peace of mind—and going back up the stairs was far more work than she could muster up the strength for—but she hadn't expected him to have been home quite literally minutes after he'd left. "Babe?" She called once she heard somebody step inside, beginning to panic when she got no answer, realizing that she was nowhere near any weapons, and was in no position to fight off an intruder. She took a deep breath, slowing her racing heart as she began to slink off of the couch.

"Just me." Gemma came into view with a friendly smile on her face as she brandished a plate of food.

"Jesus." Sydney exhaled, slapping her hand over her heart. "You scared the shit out of me." She laughed nervously as she pushed herself back up onto the sofa.

"Uh-huh…" Gemma raised a brow as she looked down at the younger woman. "What exactly were you planning on doing?"

"Improvising." Sydney mused with a playful smile. "Tig sent you?" She guessed, her tone falling flat as she nodded at his keys dangling from her slender fingers.

Gemma nodded with a smile. "I have not seen that man this in love since he was struggling to grow a beard." She chortled, setting the plate of ribs and potato salad down onto the coffee table.

"I think you're confusing love with compensation." Sydney scoffed. The worry in the back of her mind had her completely looking past the sweet gesture, all she could see was that he didn't think that she could function on her own for more than twenty minutes, and she knew the weight that a burden like that would have on a man in this life.

"Sweetheart…" Gemma sighed as she sat down next to her, taking her hand in both of hers. "Men like Tig do well when they have something to protect; something to drive them. That's why he's the Sergeant, it's his job." She nodded.

"Something to protect… Not a reminder of something that he couldn't protect." Sydney stated sadly, staring at the dark-haired woman with a hollowness behind her eyes.

Gemma frowned. She knew what Sydney was getting at, but she also knew that it was a point supported solely by insecurity, and cloudy judgment. "You talk to him like I said?" She was sure that she hadn't, because if she had, then she wouldn't be sitting here worrying about the very issue that she wanted her to talk to him about.

Sydney nodded wearily, knowing exactly where this conversation was going—and it didn't involve her winning.

Gemma's eyes widened. "Good." She blinked with a snort, impressed that the unconventional couple was actually taking her advice. "Best to do it when you have no choice... Can't fuck your problems away." She smirked knowingly.

"Yeah..." Sydney scoffed, pulling her hand away.

Gemma's brows furrowed before she caught on, her amber-coloured eyes falling to the bruising peeking out from the neckline of the oversized t-shirt that she was wearing. "Jesus." She winced.

;

Tig sat to Clay's right at the table—as the Sergeant always did, but tonight, he didn't feel like the Sergeant. Without Sydney by his side—or on his lap, rather—he found himself constantly reminded of the fact that he hadn't been the Sergeant. The Sergeant was the one who was supposed to throw himself in front of bullets for his President, to protect the women of the MC, to see these kinds of attacks coming—not allow his old lady to do it for him while he ignored his instincts because of the greedy prince who had no idea what it was like to be at war.

He kept his heavy eyes down, twirling his beer bottle around while everybody watched Donut and Tank go at it in the ring, his gaze falling to his empty middle finger. He took a deep breath, closing his hand over the gold heart hanging around his neck, pushing the dark thoughts into the back of his mind where they belonged.

"You good?" Happy rasped from across the table, looking over Tig with a creased brow as his eyes fell to the necklace that he was clutching the same way that Sydney always did.

Tig's eyes shot up once he realized that the attention was on him, but he didn't see his brothers, he saw Gemma standing off in the distance, nodding to him with a smile. "Yeah." He answered as he returned her smile. "Yeah, I'm here." He shook his head, refocusing himself as he directed his attention to where it was supposed to be; on being the Sergeant.

;

Sydney expelled a long, slow breath once she was finally alone again, making herself comfortable as she peeled the foil off of the still hot plate of food when she heard the front door opening again. She felt her insides freeze once again, but this time it was in frustration, not fear. "Hello?" She called impatiently, once again getting no reply. Now she froze with fear, feeling her heart sink for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She knew who that silence belonged to...

"Hey there, little lady." Packer rounded the corner with a smile.

Sydney exhaled in relief, hoping that this was the last time that her panic would get the best of her tonight. "Didn't know I had a revolving fucking door." She scoffed, turning back to the food that she wasn't even hungry for.

"They're gonna patch you." The Southern Cali President nodded proudly, his forehead creasing when she didn't do as little as flinch at the mention of her greatest dream finally coming true. "You don't think so?" His face fell to a frown, wondering if amongst the word that had spread across the charters about her progress, there was something that she wasn't telling him...

"I haven't really thought about it." She shrugged. She knew that the recent events should've given her a rush of confidence towards her goals, but her focus had been on keeping up the image that had landed her there in the first place, not on stopping to see how much it had developed.

"Losing focus… Now that don't sound like you." He sighed as he took a seat next to her, his aging bones creaking as he settled against her side.

"Yeah, well, bullet wounds and bed rest don't sound like me either." She smiled sarcastically.

"The life of a Son..." He nodded with a knowing smile.

;

"Cameron wants that piece of shit Hefner killed before Monday." Chibs looked around the table at his Redwood brothers where they were huddled, shoulder to shoulder.

"He's squeezing the Irish for more payoff cash." Juice nodded.

"And how is that our problem?" Tig scratched at the rigid plastic of the beer-stained fold out table.

"We told Cameron we'd help him… Get our guns faster." Jax nodded.

"Took a bullet to save him." Tig shook his head, clenching his jaw tightly. "That was help enough."

"It ain't help." Chibs shook his head. "It's a gift."

"We take out the Port Commissioner? Cameron gives us back our $200k, plus a month of free guns." Juice tapped his hand against the table to emphasize the magnitude of this kind of deal.

Clay listened intently as his officers relayed their intel, nodding his head as he tried to figure out how to best get what he wanted for the club, whilst keeping them happy after the bold move that he'd pulled brokering a deal with the enemy behind their backs.

"Guns and cash… We could use that if we're gonna be steppin' Laroy." Bobby nodded—to Clay's relief.

"Murder for hire..." The President surmised. "That's a dirty business." He knew that the club was on board, but he needed to make them think that it was their idea, not his.

"It's not about money." Piney reminded his younger, more selfish brothers. "That asshole killed McKeevy..." He grumbled. "Michael was a friend of mine, and yours." He turned to Clay, then to Jax. "And your dad's. He went back a long way with SAMCRO."

"What do you think, VP?" Clay nodded to his stepson.

"I agree with Piney." Jax pursed his lips as the perfect opportunity presented itself; one where he could showcase his newfound determination, while feeling like he wasn't completely disregarding each word of his father's advice. "McKeevy was a friend. I think we owe it to the Irish."

Tig nodded along as he chewed his lower lip. He didn't give a shit what they did, he just wanted to be able to move past the constant reminder that his old lady had been shot, and he hadn't been able to stop it from happening.

Clay nodded, leaning forward as he placed his beer onto the table. "How does Cameron want us to do it?"

"Got it all planned out." Juice nodded. "Hefner's got a ritual… Church with the fat wife, sex with the black girlfriend." He smirked. "She lives in a shitty hood right outside of his nice Oakland suburb."

"And that's where we take him out." Chibs grinned sadistically. "Black-on-white hate crime. Who gives a shit?"

Normally Tig would've been all for this kind of attitude from his more tame brothers, but he couldn't feel anything other than discomfort as he forced himself to remain calm and logical for the sake of his relationship—a setting that, as the Sergeant, he didn't often have in the 'on' position.

"Who does it?"

Jax never would have called himself an opportunist—that title was reserved for his stepfather. But when he saw the door open for him to erase the strike on his record that Kohn had marked... "I-"

"I do." Opie cut him off.

Jax felt his veins run cold when he heard his best friend's voice over his own. "Been a while since you suited up, brother..." He might've been ready to accept his fate, but he wasn't ready to accept that his best friend was condemned to the same one.

Opie turned slightly, side-eyeing the blonde man as he tried to undermine his perfect opportunity; the one that would earn his way back into the club—and Donna's heart. "I'll do it." Jax shook his head as he looked into his dark brown eyes.

"I can do this." Opie sneered, turning his attention towards his President instead.

"What about your little princess?" Jax leant back as he nodded to Clay. He was grasping at straws, but after seeing the older man so fiercely back Sydney, he figured that if the idea of him proving his loyalty wasn't enough to trump Opie's volunteer, then maybe the idea of letting Sydney prove hers, would be. "Good chance to bring her in closer, let her know that her actions aren't goin' unnoticed." He nodded sincerely as he continued his pitch.

"She's a little tied up right now." Clay shook his head at the ridiculous suggestion.

"Not tied up enough…" Opie's eyes wandered across the compound to where Sydney was walking up with Packer, taking this as his cue to leave his superiors to discuss this in private.

Tig's eyes lit up when he spotted that gorgeous white-blonde hair; curly, and shining in the moonlight. He let the rising joy bring him to his feet, glancing down at Clay who gave him the nod of approval.

Sydney felt her stomach filling with butterflies when Tig gawked at her from across the compound, her eyes sparkling as she smiled bashfully at him. She kissed Packer on the cheek, thanking him for the ride—and the encouragement—before making her way over to where he was stalking towards her.

"Baby girl…" Tig purred with his hands on his hips as he looked her up and down.

Sydney bit her lip, swaying for him as his eyes raked over her in the ruffled, baby blue romper that she wore with her white cork wedges. She felt her cheeks getting hotter as he trailed his hands around her waist, humming as he pulled her against him.

"You're gorgeous..." He whispered into her hair as the familiar scent of coconut, lime, and sweet perfume flooded his nostrils and washed away any resentment that he'd been feeling. "You come for me?" He pulled his face away, but kept his body pressed against hers, looking down with a grin as his hands slid underneath the loose fabric, and gripped her ass.

"I told you, Sergeant." She hummed, tilting her lips up towards his. "I'll be coming for you, for the rest of my life." She rasped.

"That's what I like to hear." He growled, descending his lips onto hers in a passionate kiss, sucking her tongue before finally pulling away—not letting himself get too lost in the moment just yet. He had work to do; work that couldn't be done if he kept her all to himself. "Let's get you a drink." He smiled, leading her inside.

"Opie already proved he's back." Jax shook his head sternly once Opie was gone.

"He pressed a button, he didn't kill anyone." Clay scoffed. "Get Cameron to confirm the payoff." He nodded to Juice and Chibs, who nodded back as they tapped their palms against the table, getting up and heading off to carry out the task.

"Jax, Ope, Bobby." Clay ordered. "No mistakes." He let his gaze linger on Jax before his shadowed eyes shifted across the compound where Tara was awkwardly trying to make her way through the thick crowd that did nothing to part for her, the way that they did for Sydney.

Jax forced a nod, keeping his composure through the cringe that rolled through his body at the horrible timing of Tara's arrival, standing from the table and making his way over to the out-of-place looking brunette as she wrung her hands while she waited for him to finish.

"I want Ope pullin' the trigger on this." Clay told Bobby once they were alone. "I wanna make sure he's really back."

"I think we all do." Bobby nodded.

;

Tig walked through the clubhouse with a smile on his face. He was better when Sydney was around; standing a little taller, and walking a little prouder with her by his side—even if he was worried that she shouldn't be on her feet. He'd pushed away the impulse to ask if she was okay to walk, but now he was fighting the need to get her sat down right away, trying to do what she wanted and trust that she would let him know if she wasn't okay. He'd learned earlier that it was best to take her approach of ignorance; that the more he emphasized it, the more uncomfortable she became, and that was the opposite of what he wanted.

Sydney felt good standing next to Tig, even when every set of eyes in the crowded room fell on her, scanning over her exposed body for any telltale signs that she had actually been a victim of a shooting less than a week ago—because she sure didn't look like she had. She felt Tig's hand squeeze hers a little harder as people began to approach, squeezing back to let him know that she would be okay as she parted from him to accept the wave of greetings.

Packer smiled from where he sat by the pool table as the girl that he'd always known, came back to life before him, catching Tig's eye across the room in the process. He raised his glass to the younger man who he could see was doing everything that he could to tend to his firecracker of a goddaughter—a job that he knew didn't come easy. Tig returned the gesture with a small smile, and a nod of respect, at least somebody thought that he was doing something right.

Sydney felt the nerves slowly beginning to fade as she managed to ease back into her comfort zone of life at the clubhouse—even with SAMDINO there. But unfortunately, the fading nerves meant the fading of her body's defence mechanism against the pain. She chugged the beer that Tig had gotten for her, motioning for Half-Sack the second that she had a break in visitors.

"You okay?" Half-Sack asked worriedly as he scanned over her.

"I'm gonna need something stronger..." She widened her eyes as she wiggled her empty bottle, hoping to convey what she really meant by that—which he seemed to pick up as he swiped the bottle from her hands, and scurried back behind the bar where he frantically scanned the selection of alcohol before finally settling on a glass of 151.

"Here." He shoved the short glass into her hand, panting as he scanned the various bottles that littered the room. "I'm gonna find something better."

"Okay." Sydney chuckled. She wished that she could take everyone's distress over her injury as lightly as she took Kip's. Something about the way that he worried about her, didn't seem to worry her like it did with the other's.

"Hey..." Sydney heard the tentative voice behind her, turning around to see Tara standing with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her grey hoodie.

"Oh, hey, Doc." Sydney smiled, wrapping her arms around the older woman. She was glad to be back on good terms with her, and she was even gladder to see that she had taken her advice about Jax.

"You know..." Tara raised a brow as she pulled away. "You shouldn't be here..." She shook her head with a knowing smirk

"Neither should you." Sydney winked, linking arms with the dark-haired woman and pulling her towards the bar to get her a much-needed drink.

;

Luckily, Sydney found herself off of her feet rather quickly after having commandeered one of the couches from Rollie, and his multiple croweaters. She sat with her legs over Tig's lap, twirling her fingers in the tiny curls by his ear as he explained his reasoning in their game of 'which patch will end up with which snatch'. If she could stay in this position all night, and continue sipping on rum with an alcohol percentage of 75, then she would be just fine.

"Juice always goes for the blondes. I'm tellin' you... He's got this one."

"She's like twice his size!" Sydney whisper-yelled in disbelief as Juice slowly made his way closer to the tall woman with spiked hair, and facial piercings. "There's no way she'd go for him." She shook her head.

Tig leaned into her neck, closing his eyes as he listened to the soothing sound of her voice—even when she was trying to tell him that he was wrong. "Just watch." He chuckled, kissing her jaw as he squeezed her knee.

"You think you got me beat, Sergeant?" She spoke at his lips with a teasing smile.

"Oh, Princess… I know I do." He smirked.

Sydney's lips curled up as she lifted her leg, pressing the sole of her shoe against his chest where she pushed him away from her playfully, spilling her drink as she slid backwards against the armrest.

Tig laughed, shaking his head as he swiped her glass and held it to her lips as he poured the remaining contents down her throat before setting it onto the table behind him. "You know..." He turned his attention back to her, grabbing her foot and slipping one of her shoes off. "I remember these…" He held the white shoe up to the light as he examined it with a smirk.

"I think you'll have to remind me..." Sydney grinned as she leaned into him, rubbing her foot down the inside of his leg.

"I think..." His voice dropped to a low, smoky whisper. "It went a little something like this…" He grasped her calf lightly, slipping the shoe onto her delicate foot and buckling it tight—but not too tight, just as he had that very same day.

"Yeah…" Sydney moaned lightly, her eyes falling closed as she shivered, feeling that same nervousness that she had all of those weeks ago.

"Then this…" His hand trailed up her smooth skin as he leant closer. "And then it should've gone like this…" He brushed her nose with his, slowly turning his head before he felt his lips meeting hers in a gentle, tentative kiss—exactly like it would've gone that day.

All of the worries, doubts, and discomfort in Sydney's mind disappeared. The scene surrounding her went black, and the noise in her ears blurred as he took her back to that moment. She could feel it; the sun on her skin, the sound of drills in the garage behind them, the feeling of Tig's hand on her thigh as she waited for his lips.

"Damn, Princess." The obnoxious voice pulled Sydney from the slice of heaven, her fist balling in Tig's shirt as she felt her chest filling with an overwhelming frustration, replacing the innocent and hopeful butterflies behind her belly button before she even looked up, knowing exactly who she would see.

"Shot to the leg… Laid up with a man... I barely recognize ya." Tank mused as he plopped into the vacant armchair across from them, holding a towel to his bloody nose.

Sydney could feel her legs beginning to vibrate as she stifled her breath to try and control her heaving chest—which only served to double the pain that she had already begun to feel now that her distractions had been chased away. She felt Tig's grip on her leg getting tighter in his own anger—which, miraculously, was the only thing that had her keeping her cool. She needed to be the one to shut this down, not him.

"Could still kick your ass." She replied, cocking a brow as she dug her heel into Tig's calf to keep him in place. "Maybe then you'd recognize me."

"You missed one hell of a fight, Kitty Cat." Donut smirked as he dried off his muscular upper body as it glistened with sweat, taking a seat on the other end of their couch as Cobra, Chibs, Yates, and a few Nevada guys joined their apparently growing circle.

"I'll get my own." Sydney replied, not breaking eye contact with Tank.

"Can't do shit without those legs." Tank scoffed, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the ground by her feet. "I know you like using those legs on me…" He smirked.

At the perfect moment, Cherry stumbled into the middle of the confrontation, effectively tabling the explosion that was about to come from both Sydney and Tig. "Sorry…" The little brunette looked around awkwardly once she realized that she had just interrupted something. "Uh, Sack's got somethin' for you..." She nodded to Sydney.

Sydney's brow creased before she remembered that he had been on the lookout for something stronger to help her with the pain, which was exactly what she needed right now if she was going to get through the crash that was to follow the burst of adrenaline. She nodded, using her last bit of strength to push herself to her feet so that she could get to the light at the end of the tunnel.

Tank laughed as she got up to walk away, kicking back in the leather chair with a smug smile as she backed down from the challenge, before he was startled by a loud crunch, and a wave of pain that had him flying back into the chair as a warm sensation trickled down his neck.

"The hands still work okay." Sydney smirked as she sucked his blood from her knuckle, revelling in the barrage of whoops, hollers, and cheers that arose before turning to follow Cherry down the hall, leaving Tank with blood gushing from his now broken nose. Now she had the strength that she needed to get to the light at the end of the tunnel.

Cherry brought Sydney through to the kitchen, away from the hoards of bikers who were still reeling over her sneak attack. She turned to face the blonde woman, looking around to be sure that nobody was in earshot as she slowly opened her palm to reveal the two large white pills.

"Oxy?" Sydney hadn't at all expected narcotics, but she figured that if she was going to need to be carried to bed anyways, she would rather it look like she was too intoxicated, than that she couldn't walk on her own.

"He said that it would help…" Cherry looked up tentatively. "With the pain." She nodded to her leg.

"Yeah… It will." Sydney bowed her head gratefully. "Thanks."

Cherry dipped her head, hesitantly taking her leave before stopping over the threshold. "You're strong… Gonna be a good addition to the club one day." She nodded with a smile, turning to walk away more confidently this time. "Oh!" She ran back, swinging off the doorframe. "Sack put a bottle of Patron in the fridge for you." She winked.

Sydney smiled at the Nevada girl. Normally, the words of a croweater wouldn't have held much weight, but Cherry had spent a great deal of time in close proximity of the MC, as Sydney had, so she knew that if she could see that she belonged, that she was doing something right.

;

Happy stalked into the kitchen in search of Sydney after the uproar that he'd heard from the corner of the room where Tank had been left bloody, stopping when he found her with her head tilted back, and a bottle of tequila to her lips. "The hell you doin'?" He asked with a scowl.

"Taking my medicine." She smiled sarcastically.

Happy's scowl only got deeper with her answer. He knew that something wasn't right, but he couldn't figure out if it was his head, or his heart that was telling him that. He walked up to her slowly, staring her down with that demanding black gaze that always managed to get answers from her, but tonight, he got nothing. He looked over her, hoping that maybe if her eyes wouldn't tell him what was off, then something else would. And that was when he noticed it, the bare skin between her glitter-dusted collarbones.

"Where's your necklace?"

Sydney remained silent, staring up at him with a hardened gaze as her fingers stroked down the cross that sat around her thumb—the nervous tick that had taken the place of sliding her golden pendant along its chain.

Happy felt his expression twist into one of shock as his eyes trailed down to the ring on her finger, realizing what it meant as the memory of Tig clutching his chain at the table earlier began to flicker in his brain. "I guess he's treating you good then." He gave a formal nod of his strong chin.

"What can I say?" She mused. "The man handles his problems well."

"You ain't a problem." He shook his head.

"That's not what you thought when I was alone in a hospital bed." She forced her voice to remain level as she felt her lip beginning to quiver.

"I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I-"

"You were right." She cut him off. "It was just the painkillers talking." She swallowed another crack in her voice as she seethed the angry words. "You will never see me like that again, because there is no apology that will ever take back what you said."

"I didn't mean what I said." He shook his head.

"Doesn't matter." She shrugged. "I don't need you anymore." She took a step towards him. "I have an old man now." Another step. "So, why don't you do what you're good at, and leave? After all…" She reached up, stroking the charter flash on his chest with her thumb that adorned Tig's ring. "That's what Nomad means, right?" An evil taunt laced her rasp.

Happy shook his head, reaching for her hand before she swiped it away, and slapped him harshly across the cheek.

The bald man winced, keeping his head firmly in place as he accepted his punishment while his face stung almost as badly as the expression on her face did. He had always known that the fire behind her eyes was a powerful blaze, but he hadn't known just how powerful until this moment, when he was the one feeling the flame.

;

I'm going to have Scar Tissue by Red Hot Chilli Peppers stuck in my head for weeks :)))

Song for this chapter

Bang Bang - Kieran Mercer