Stahl puts her plan into motion as she goes after the club's old ladies for the information that she needs to uphold her RICO case, but will love be enough to keep the SAMCRO women quiet when everything else is at stake?
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 62: TIL DEATH DO US PART
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"My permits are up to date, actors all have their HIV cards," Luann sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "What's my shit got to do with ATF?"
"Well," Agent Stahl shrugged smugly. "Why should Vice get all the fun, huh?" She looked over her shoulder to see Bill approaching with a striped cardboard box.
Luann's face fell as she watched the agent lift the lid off of the box that she wished she could say only contained Viagra...
"Poppers, blow..." Stahl mused as she scanned the contents. "Tools of the trade?" She raised a brow.
Luann stiffened, her green eyes wandering over the stuck up agent's partner who was checking out her rack in the hot pink bustier top that she wore. "This is bullshit!" She sneered.
"No, actually," Stahl painted on a mock-pout. "It's possession. Maybe even intent to distribute." She cocked her brows as she smirked. "Shut it down." She nodded to Bill, walking out of Cara Cara with a smug smile on her face as she listened to the handcuffs being placed around Luann's wrists. She had only hoped to get one of the women to shake loose something that she could use to start her RICO investigation, but the porn queen had scored her an unexpected jackpot on the first stop of the day, and she still had two more to go.
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Sydney laid sprawled out across Tig's bed with her injured leg crossed over her uninjured leg as she bounced it in time with the throbbing. She tapped her fingers against the duvet, waiting for the pain of her last trip to subside enough to be able to stomach the thought of making another one out to the bar, when her phone started ringing. She snapped her head to the side, her cheek rubbing against the rough polyester as she reached over for it, grateful to have something else to focus on. "Hey, you still in my room?" Tig's voice came over the line.
"Yeah." She sighed.
"What're you doin'?" He husked.
Sydney chuckled. She could practically hear his smirk over the phone. "Hmm, why don't you come find out?" She rasped seductively.
"Don't you be tempting daddy while he's busy." He mock-scolded.
She laughed again, rolling over onto her stomach. "Nah, I'm just laying down." She told him as she traced the stitching on the blanket that, the longer she laid on, she worried may actually graft to her skin.
"Tara get you all fixed up?"
"Sure did." She sighed, rolling her eyes.
"How's it look?"
"Clean as a whistle." She rolled her eyes again, trying to keep the deadpan out of her voice as he insisted on discussing her favorite topic.
"Maybe I'll have to come give you a blow." He smirked, hoping to lift her clearly dampening spirits.
Sydney laughed again, her smile lingering a little longer this time as the throbbing in her leg faded, and the throbbing in her heart took over. She couldn't believe how lucky she was to have found someone like Tig who not only cared about her wellbeing, but who also paid attention to how she cared about her wellbeing—doing everything that he could to make sure that she was comfortable, even if that meant making himself uncomfortable.
"Nah, for real though... You feeling okay?" He reverted back to his initial concern now that he'd managed to get a few laughs out of her.
"Yeah, just taking it easy..." She dropped the sarcasm, answering him softly and sincerely. "I'm sure you're working hard enough for the both of us." She added with a smirk.
"Yeah." Tig scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Cameron wants a meet... You sure you don't want us to drop you off at home? Can relax there instead of in my room…" He knew she'd wanted to get back to the normalcy of being at the clubhouse, but he didn't understand how she would be able to find any kind of comfort in his dingy dorm room and rock hard bed when she had the exact opposite at home.
"You taking the bike?" She raised a brow.
Tig winced. "You sure you don't want me to get the prospect to drop you off at home?" He corrected himself.
Sydney snorted. "Nah, it's okay. I'll stick around in case shit goes sideways."
"Okay." He nodded, squinting in the sun from where he stood outside of the office while Clay spoke to Gemma. He was glad that this hadn't been a fight; that she seemed to be taking her health seriously enough not to try and tag along when she should be resting.
"You call just to check in on me?" She felt a playful grin forming on her face.
"I was actually gonna see if you could do me a favor. In a bit of a rush to finish up out here…"
"Yeah, what's up?" She sat up.
"Those two bags in my room from yesterday, the black backpacks? Think you could empty 'em out for me? We need 'em for the cash."
"I'm on it." She cooed.
"Wish you were on me." Tig growled, smiling as he heard her giggle before the line went dead.
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"Hey!" Unser yelled at the parade of ATF agents as they invaded the station house, hauling boxes of material in with them... "I'm tryin' to run a department here! Mind tellin' me how I'm gonna do that without an office?"
Hale approached his superior with a victorious smirk as he finally managed to get a one up on the corrupt Chief of Police. "You knew about this?" Unser scowled.
"No one knew." Stahl's voice surprised both men where they turned to see the tall woman approaching them with a smirk. "I love a good surprise."
"What the hell is going on?" Unser attempted to keep his composure as he realized exactly what was going on once he saw Luann being escorted to the holding cells...
"I'm borrowing your house for a couple of weeks." She shrugged. "Gonna be a little tight."
"And what exactly is your business here?" Unser placed his hands on his hips.
"What do you think, Chief? Huh?" Stahl squinted, taking a few steps closer to the man that did absolutely nothing to intimidate her. "I bet you've already made a call to Clay Morrow." She scoffed. "Your personal and professional relationship with the Sons of Anarchy has been well documented."
"Is that so?" He scoffed back.
"Yeah." She nodded, turning back to another one of her many detectives. "Escort Chief Unser out." She turned back to the older man, staring him dead in the eyes as she spoke. "He poses a security risk to my investigation." He had already tampered with the records of one of her key witnesses, she didn't need it happening again.
"You scrawny, uptight bitch…" He spit. "You don't know shit about me, or this town."
Stahl blinked in response, stepping even closer. Thanks to Hale's briefing, she had a very good idea him, his town, and how the biker scum had managed to patrol its streets for so long. "Why don't you take a little down time, Wayne. Play golf, go fishing, get a round of chemo… You know, relax?"
Hale lowered his head when the low blow left her lips. He hadn't ever wanted to attack anyone—not anyone in his department, at least. He understood why Unser chose to work with the Sons rather than against them, he had just wanted to see a day where the bad guys lost; a day where all of the reasons that he became a cop in the first place actually mattered.
"You didn't have to humiliate the guy…" He muttered as he followed Stahl into Unser's office, closing the door behind him.
"You're the one who got the ball rolling, Sparky." She slid her suit jacket off as rested it over the Chief's leather chair. "You wanna play in my backyard, or the cow pastures?"
"I want to stop SAMCRO." He shook his head.
"Good," She nodded. "Then let's catch up." She passed him a file. "We know that the Sons are getting their guns in through oil barrels from Dungloe, Ireland."
"True I.R.A. territory, right?" He thumbed through the familiar photos of Clay and McKeevy.
"Yes, but these guys did not buy into the peace accord... The guns are how they keep their pro-Irish agenda, on fire." She opened up a file of her own, producing a single mugshot. "Michael McKeevy—big Irish player. He was found beaten to death two weeks ago; Pier 56, Oakland shipyard."
"You think this was Clay?" Hale scowled.
"No, I don't." She pulled out another photo. "I think it was this guy." She pointed to the older man who was lying dead outside of an apartment. "Brenan Hefner, Oakland Port Commissioner—very dirty. I think that a deal went south, and Hefner killed McKeevy."
"So then who killed Hefner?" Hale looked between both photos as Stahl widened her eyes. "SAMCRO…"
"McKeevy was a friend, Hefner was an obstacle." She explained as she fished out a stack of papers. "Oakland D.A.'s gonna keep me informed."
"This intel, the murders we had here last week, Sydney's shooting... This all points to the Sons?" He exclaimed, not understanding why there would be any hesitation.
"Don't be creaming those khakis just yet, Deputy." She scoffed. "It may point to the Sons, but we've got shit to convict. It's all circumstantial evidence."
"So it's a wash… You can't pin it on them, and now their gun supply has been cut off."
"Well, I didn't say that either, now did I?" She slid a photo of a bald man across the table. "McKeevy has a cousin in the trade… Family business. " She smirked. "Cameron Hayes. He's been spotted locally a few times now—my guess is that he will be taking over as distributor for McKeevy, and will be catching the next ship back to Ireland… That's where we intercept."
"So how does Luann tie into all of this?" His face wrinkled in what seemed to be a never-ending confusion.
"Well, in case our dear friend Camy Hayes doesn't work out, we need a back-up plan." She cocked her brows, fanning out a pile of photos of all of the SAMCRO women. "RICO." She smirked. "We need to prove that Sons of Anarchy is an ongoing criminal enterprise—that there's been illegal activity over the past ten years. So, we use Luann's incarceration as a bargaining chip with her husband, Otto Delaney." She held out a mugshot of the long-haired man. "We dig up the dirt in the past, and then we go after the present."
"These guys will never rat." Hale scoffed. For someone who specialized in organized crime, she sure didn't know much about the kind of loyalty that ran within these gangs.
"You're really missing the theme here, honey…" She shook her head slowly, patronizingly. "Outlaw clubs do not keep their women in the dark. They're smart. They use them… So we go after the ones who have the most to lose." She picked three photos from the stack. "Job, family, freedom." She pointed to a photo of Tara, then Donna, then Cherry.
Hale felt his heart skip when his eyes landed on the photos of his old classmates, of his old friends. "She's not one of them." He blurted out, shaking his head.
"Who?" Stahl scowled.
"Tara." He pointed to the photo of the brunette carrying a small blue bag through the compound. "She's not one of them." He couldn't let her get caught up in the mess that he'd created—not after everything that she'd been through...
Stahl let her eyes slide over him for a few seconds as she contemplated what his outburst really meant... "Well, we've had surveillance on the clubhouse and, uh, Tara has spent almost every night there..." She shrugged. "Kohn was right after all, he pushed her right into Teller's arms."
Hale looked away, rubbing his nose as he tried to brush off the sting. It wasn't like he and Tara had any kind of history—Jax always made sure of that. But he always thought that maybe, one day, the good cop and the good doctor would find their way to the same good place.
"What's the matter, Deputy?" Stahl raised a brow. "You got a little stiffy for miss Tara?"
"Tara, she—" He began, catching himself before he could fall. "No, she's just an old friend... Never the path I saw her taking." He explained confidently.
"Uh-huh…" Stahl nodded, unconvinced, turning her attention to the knocking at the door.
"Where should I put these?" Bill asked, holding up a stack of boxes.
"Put those in my office, thanks." Hale nodded. "So, what about Harding?" He attempted to steer the conversation in a less personal direction, hoping to throw off his real concern for Tara, with false concern for the little blonde.
"Well, seeing what she's been through, she doesn't have much to lose." Stahl scoffed. "Dead parents, jailbird boyfriend old enough to be her father, a growing criminal record... She's the one who gave me the idea in the first place."
Hale's heart may have skipped a beat when he'd seen Tara's photo, but it sank when he heard the words come out of her mouth. A growing criminal record... He nodded silently, praying that she hadn't uncovered the shady police work that he'd stupidly performed in a failed attempt to get ahead, which he wished had been his only attempt to get ahead. Because as he looked at the faces of all of the innocent people whose lives were about to be destroyed, he realized that maybe SAMCRO wasn't the bad guy, after all...
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Sydney sat on the edge of Tig's bed while he loaded his gun, snapping the clip into place and tucking it into his waistband before bending over to grab one of the backpacks off of the ground, slinging it over his shoulders while she emptied the second one.
"Did you take my panties again?" She laughed as she dug through the bag from the day before.
"What?" Tig's brows furrowed as he turned to face her.
"From the bag." She nodded, holding up her crumpled green dress that had been inside.
"Nah… Must be in the back of the van."
"The van that people have been driving in and out of here all day?" She raised a brow.
"Yeah… That van." He winced. "I'll look when I get back. I gotta go." He grabbed the second bag from her.
"Hmm, so one of your brothers could have my panties… That's kinda hot." She smirked up at him, pushing the subject as he tried desperately to avoid it. There weren't many things that could make Tig Trager uncomfortable... She had to take advantage while she could.
"Maybe for you." He scoffed. The idea did not please him in the slightest, but at the very least, he was glad to see that for some twisted reason it was able to put a smile on her face. "I gotta go."
"You keep sayin' that… But you're still standing here." She tilted her head innocently as she dragged her foot up the inside of his calf.
"And if you keep doin' that, I'm gonna be layin' here, and we're both gonna be in trouble." He smirked as he leant down, hovering over her before pressing his lips to hers. "I'll see you when I get back."
"How do you know I'll still be here?" She teased, swaying back and forth tauntingly as she leant back against her elbows.
"Because I've made sure that nobody on this compound is going to give you a ride, or let you anywhere near their keys." He nodded easily.
"Not bad, Sergeant." She bit her lip as she nodded slowly, impressed by his anticipation for exactly what she would've done.
"Love ya." He winked, pulling the door open.
"Love you more." She smiled back.
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"It must be hard..." Stahl mused as she looked over Donna Winston where she shrunk even further into the rickety wooden chair across from the cluttered kitchen table that they were sitting at. "Two kids, a full-time job, an absent husband..."
"We get by." Donna snapped, feeling her hands beginning to clam up where she had them tightly clasped together as she listened to the stuck up woman's parter rooting around in the kitchen behind her, just like they had done the first time that this had happened...
"Or you get out..." Stahl raised a brow, keeping her tone soft with the sensitive woman that, so far, she was sure was going to be her golden ticket. "All of these moving boxes suggest the latter..." She watched the younger woman's jaw clench, looking up at Bill where she nodded out the door. "You're smart, Donna." She narrowed her eyes once they were alone. "You take your kids, and you get as far away as you possibly can before SAMCRO rips your family apart." She shook her head. "It's only a matter of time before Opie's back inside again, we both know tha—"
"I don't need a cop to tell me what's wrong with my family." Donna spit out, swallowing the bile that was rising in her throat with a wince. "I don't know shit about Opie's club business. And even if I did, I'd never rat on him." She felt her voice beginning to shake, pushing herself up from the table. "Get out of my house, bitch."
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Tara stood over Abel with a smile as she patted his little belly, letting his soft cooing fuel her not-so-unrealistic fantasies when suddenly she was overcome by the dreadful feeling of being watched. Her heart sank as the fear that she thought she'd finally managed to outrun began to creep in, slowly turning over her shoulder to see a woman peering through the glass. She flinched, the sudden movement startling Abel who began to cry. "Oh..." She pouted, motioning for a colleague to take over before slipping out the door to see who this woman was, and why she was stirring up such a familiar feeling.
"Can I help you?" She greeted the sharply-dressed woman.
"Dr. Knowles?" Stahl raised her brows expectantly, hoping that the other meek brunette would be just as easily rattled as the first one.
"Yeah." Tara nodded, shoving her hands into the pocket of her white coat.
"I'm agent Stahl, ATF." Tara stared blankly at the familiar badge. ATF… Like Kohn. "May I ask you some questions?"
"Of course." She nodded, gesturing to the sofa behind them in the secluded waiting room, peering out into the hallway in the hopes that nobody was witnessing this interaction—but somebody was.
Margaret Murphy watched the agent approach Tara; the same agent who had questioned the other poor girl who had been collateral damage of the poisonous MC. She shook her head disapprovingly, hoping that this only had to do with Jax's recent presence in the hospital, and nothing more...
"So," Stahl shook her head casually. "I'm trying to wrap my brain around your history with SAMCRO."
"Excuse me?" Tara wrinkled her brows, using every bit of her poor acting skills that she could muster up.
"Well, your mom died when you were nine. You left Charming, and your drunk daddy eleven years ago—moved in with an aunt in San Diego, right?"
"My father's cousin." Tara corrected, her heart sinking even further.
"Right, right." She nodded. "You graduated U.C.S.D. with honors, you were top of the class at Loyola Med, and you did your internship at Chicago Presbyterian—really, very impressive."
"Yeah, I know." Tara smiled awkwardly. "I was there."
"Yes… And now you're here at St. Redneck's, getting dirty with the bad boys again. How does that happen, hmm?"
Tara paused, choosing her next words very carefully. "My personal life really isn't any of your business." She stated as diplomatically as possible. "What is it that you want?"
"Oh, but it is." Stahl smirked. She'd gotten lucky—this meek brunette was just as easily rattled as Donna had been. "Do you know of any illegal activity that Jax Teller, or the Sons of Anarchy are involved in?"
"No." Tara shook her head unconvincingly. "I don't."
"Well that was easy." Stahl shrugged. "Well, listen," she got to her feet. "If you do think of something, or something doesn't feel right, would you please give me a call?" She handed her a business card.
"Mhmm." Tara nodded as she accepted the white card, pretending to be thoroughly interested in its contents in hopes of avoiding the penetrating gaze of the intimidating woman that she now knew was just as interested in her, as she was in Jax.
"Thank you for your time." Stahl nodded, turning towards the door.
"What exactly is it that you're hoping to find?" Tara couldn't help herself… She needed to know what this was about. "You know, just wondering what digging up dirt on old girlfriends gets you..." She chuckled humourlessly.
"Is that what Kohn liked?" Stahl narrowed her eyes as she looked over her shoulder. "Your inquisitive nature?" Tara's heart dropped completely into her stomach. This was about Kohn, after all. "You know... I understand that he never got off the plane in Chicago. He's M.I.A."
"Well, if that's the case then I guess I will be needing those bad boys, since the good ones can't do their jobs." Tara snarked as she began wringing her hands.
"He threw away his career for love." Stahl shrugged. "I just hope you're not doing the same, Doctor."
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Opie stalked anxiously into his house, stomping through the kitchen and down the hallway in search of his wife and kids—his family. But instead, all he found was an empty house, and Donna packing more boxes. "What're you doing?" His brows furrowed. She was supposed to be unpacking. "Where are the kids?"
"Next door. Nina's watching them." She ignored him, continuing to remove her books from the bookshelf.
"So I don't get a say in any of this?" He felt his anger brewing as tears threatened his eyes. Everything he'd done had been for nothing, after all…
"I didn't get a say in this decision, did I?" She whirled around, thrusting her hand towards his kutte.
"Right." He scoffed. "Donna, you knew who I was when you married me—"
"There was an ATF agent here this morning." She cut him off. "She's a real nasty bitch. Grilled me about you, and the club. Said that SAMCRO was gonna tear apart my family." She practically spit the words at him—the exact same words that she had been chewing on for the last five years.
Opie's eyes fell shut when he realized what this must have meant; that the feds knew they had something to do with Hefner's murder. "I'm sorry." He shook his head, praying that if she hadn't brought it up, then maybe she didn't know... Maybe they didn't have enough to pin it on anybody, maybe they were just digging around, maybe—
"We're moving in with my mom. I'm gonna find a place near her where me and the kids can—"
"Donna!" Opie stopped her, grabbing the box from her hands and throwing it to the ground. "Just—" He shook his head frustratedly. "Why did you stay? Huh? Why give me hope?"
"O-our kids were babies—" She stuttered, unsure how to answer the same question that she couldn't stop asking herself.
"Don't put this on the kids." He shook his head. "You knew that I was gonna go back to SAMCRO. What the hell else was I gonna do? I'm not your brother, I'm not your dad. I can't be a good ol' boy chucking wood twelve hours a day. I earn with the club, it's what I know. That is how I support this family. I'm doing this because of you!"
"You ain't even doing that, Ope!" She cut off his rant. "We're two mortgage payments behind, thirty-two thousand in credit card debt, I park my car in the garage so that it doesn't get repo-ed, I can't go to any of the grocery stores in this town anymore because so many of my cheques have bounced. So don't you dare say that what you do is for us."
Opie's illusion that they could get past this came crashing down when she hit him with the reality that he'd been desperately trying to ignore, her blue eyes burning into him with a hardness that he had never seen in any of the many years that they'd spent together. "I'm going to see my kids." He shook his head as he stormed out of the house. He needed a reminder of why he was doing all of this.
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Jax waltzed into the hospital to see his son, hoping to see Tara, but definitely not expecting to see the persistent bitch of an ATF agent. He strolled past her and her partner, staring her down smugly—an expression that she mimicked—until she was finally out of view, allowing himself to scowl over his shoulder as he tried to figure out why she had been there.
"Come here!" He heard before he felt himself being pulled from his thoughts, and into an empty room by Tara.
"What's wrong?" He scowled as he looked her over.
"She knew all about me! She knows about us!" She whisper-yelled.
"Wait, that agent was here for you?"
"Yes! It's because of Kohn. She knows what we did..."
Jax shook his head as he looked up to the ceiling, running his hands over his face. Even after doing the unthinkable and getting his mother's approval, there were still voices in Tara's ear, left and right, telling her that he wasn't right for her.
"It's all smoke." He blew out a sigh, placing his hands on her biceps to stop her panicking. "They got nothing on SAMCRO, so they're harassing people close to us." He hoped that the explanation he'd pulled out of his ass was as convincing to her, as it was to him. "I'm sorry…"
Tara felt her speeding heart beginning to slow as she looked to the ground. She supposed that he wasn't wrong; if her time with Kohn had taught her anything, it was that this was a common police tactic.
"You didn't say anything?" Jax narrowed his eyes as she continued to hang her head in silence.
"No." Her head snapped up. "Of course not."
"What'd she say about Kohn?"
"Just that he was M.I.A…."
"Kohn was a wanted man." He shrugged. "He didn't show up in Chicago cause he didn't wanna go to jail." He mused. "He's probably halfway around the world right now…"
"Yeah, halfway." She scoffed.
"This will never blow back on you… That's a promise." He assured her with the utmost sincerity in his whisper. "I wouldn't let you get hurt." Tara blinked in response as she turned away from him, her head spinning with the overwhelming storm of emotions, feelings, thoughts, and dilemmas. "Okay?" He brought her attention back to him.
She blinked a few times, looking into his deep blue eyes that were swimming with hope… He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. And if she wanted him, this was what she had to deal with. "Okay." She nodded, falling into his arms where he hugged her tightly and pressed his lips against her forehead, her eyes falling closed immediately. Yes... She could handle this.
;
Clay sat at one of the tables in the bar with Bobby as they contemplated what they'd learned during their meeting with Cameron, sighing as he placed his head in his hands as his brain ran laps around the never-ending obstacles.
"Hey, Clay?" He was pulled from his thoughts, looking up to see Opie. "Look, I know we're still recovering from the warehouse… But I was hoping I could get my payout for Hefner..." He noticed Bobby looking tentatively from him, to Clay. "We're, uh—" He rubbed the back of his neck. "We're two mortgage payments behind…"
"You should've said somethin', man." Clay shook his head. "Waiting for the cash wasn't mandatory."
"I know." Opie nodded. "I just wanted to help out the club—wait until we got the money from Cameron."
"That's alright, I'll get it divvied up after church." Bobby nodded, hoping to stop Opie before he could use any more of his guilt trip bullshit on the unsuspecting President.
"Thanks, man." He nodded to the long-haired man sincerely, for more than just getting him the cash.
"Hey, Ope?" Clay called after him. "You doing okay?"
"Yeah… Just—" He stopped, feeling the embarrassment twitching in his jaw. "Shit at home. I got it handled." He divulged as much as his ego would allow, turning and stomping back out to the garage.
Clay sighed as he watched yet another one of his youngest members succumb to the pressure. "What's going on with him?" He scowled at his Treasurer.
"His heart's in it…" Bobby drawled as he watched the troubled man stalk across the compound. "His head's someplace else..."
Clay scoffed, pushing himself up from the table. "Too much of that shit going around lately." He spit out in frustration.
"Uh-huh…" Bobby nodded slowly.
"Clay! That was Unser." Juice announced as he ran into the bar, holding up his prepay. "You need to call church, now…"
;
"Alright…" Clay began from where he sat at the head of the table with his head down. "This meeting was supposed to be about Cameron, but now it's about much more than that..." He sighed. "Got a call from Unser... Stahl arrested Luann."
"For what?" Jax scowled.
"Drugs. Now we knew that ATF was back in town after what went down with Darby and the Mayans, but it's looking like it's more than just a little interference…"
"She went by my house today, tried to rattle Donna." Opie perked up, hoping that maybe this meant that they hadn't been found out for Hefner's murder after all.
"Yeah… Same with Tara at the hospital." Jax chimed in, realizing that his on-the-fly explanation that he'd given her, may actually have been true.
"She's going after the women—trying to hit us where we're weak." Sydney nodded slowly as all of the working parts began to flow together. "She was pushing me for info about the guns while I was in the hospital... Some coup she has going with Hale."
"They're trying to find out anything that they can from outsiders because they got nothing." Juice nodded.
"Maybe Cameron was tellin' the truth..." Tig looked to Clay with a squint.
"Yeah, maybe…" Clay pinched the bridge of his nose.
"About what?" Chibs scowled.
"Said that there would be a delay in that shipment of free guns cause the docks are under watch. He's going into hiding until he can get safe passage outta here. We thought it was just some bullshit excuse, but…"
"It's not. And we still have half an order waiting for us on those ports." Tig shook his head.
"Can't use any of our alternative methods?" Bobby suggested.
"They know that our guns are coming in from there… That's why they're watching it. They don't want Cameron, they want us." Sydney looked to Clay, grinding her teeth as she analyzed the angle that Stahl was working, and she had to admit that, as much as it pissed her off, it was smart. But smart meant dangerous.
The entire table looked to Clay for confirmation, getting just that as the President nodded regrettably. "Princess was right from the beginning... They've been onto the oil drums for a while. Only reason we haven't been intercepted is cause we've managed to cover our tracks. We cannot risk anything right now." He held up a warning finger as he looked around the table.
"So how do we get our guns out of there before they get a warrant?"
"Unser's coming for a proper update tomorrow. We'll know more then." Was all that Clay could think to say, lowering his head back down. "Someone's gonna have to talk to Otto..."
Bobby took this as his cue to pass out the envelopes that he had prepared after getting their $200k back from Cameron, hoping to lift everybody's spirits, but it did no such thing as they accepted their blood money, wondering what it could end up costing them...
"Good job, Ope. You earned that." Clay nodded as Bobby handed the bearded man his envelope, which was much fuller than everybody else's.
"Thanks." Opie looked over to his President before quickly looking away, avoiding Jax's eyes.
Sydney felt her chest bubbling with betrayal as Opie accepted praise—and payment—for something that he didn't have the balls to do, or the respect to admit that he couldn't. She chewed the inside of her lip, staring Jax down where he sat across the table until Bobby handed her an envelope that once again, was much thicker than the rest, but this time she was going to accept the compensation.
;
Tig stumbled down the hallway to his room with Sydney on his arm, guiding her back to bed so that she could relax while he, Clay, and Bobby could get started on securing the soonest possible meeting with Luann's husband.
"Oh, shit!" The couple heard from the bathroom, looking at each other with knitted brows. "Hey, Half-Sack! Get in here!" The door flew open where Bobby practically fell out.
"Huh?" Half-Sack ran up behind them. "What's going on?"
"Jesus Christ..." Bobby groaned as he pulled the bathroom door open so that everyone could see the toilet that was spewing out sewage, and colourful scraps of lace. "What the hell is this?" He shook his head incredulously. "Now who do you think would be flushin' panties down the shitter?"
Sydney and Tig looked at each other with the same wide-eyed, brow-raised expression, no longer wondering what had happened to her missing undergarments, but who had tried to discard of the evidence.
;
Opie stormed back into his house where he hoped to catch Donna before it was too late, weaving his bulky body in and out of the maze of boxes until he found his wife standing by the kitchen table as she stuffed a box full of their kids' toys.
"Here." He threw the envelope down onto the table. "This should cover the mortgage and put a dent in a couple of the other bills."
Donna stood stunned as she stared at the envelope of cash. She didn't know what to do, she knew that as a good mother, she should accept his help—use the money to take care of her kids. But all she could think about was what he had done to get that money, and what kind of person it would make her if she accepted it...
Opie hung his head. "I'm sorry that I don't earn the way that you want me to. But the way that I earn will give us enough to get back on our feet." He looked back up to meet her tear-filled eyes. "If you can't get behind that, then keep packing." He nodded sadly before taking his leave once again.
;
Sydney laid on Tig's bed, bouncing her head back against the springy mattress that was much noisier than it was when they'd first gotten together—thanks to their efforts. The grating sound of the old metal was driving her crazy, but sitting still was driving her insane—and this was the only movement that didn't send pain shooting through her already crowded mind. She had spent all morning hoping for a distraction from her injury, and a distraction she was getting as she wracked her brain for any and every possible solution to their problem.
If we get the guns out then at least we have something to hold Laroy off because there is no way he'll accept any more delays, especially if he finds out we've agreed to sell to the Mayans… A whole new problem. Selling to the Mayans means that we need more guns than we were getting in the first place, which we couldn't even fucking keep up with... I can probably get Alvarez to give us at least one free pass, but after that we're fucked. Maybe we can get someone to distract the feds, a diversion so that we can—
Her train of thought was lost once again when an ear-piercing beeping came outside of Tig's window, tilting her head all the way back to see a sewage truck backing towards the building. "Ugh!" She slammed her fists against the bed, pushing herself up and scrambling to the window where she threw it open, ready to give the sludge workers a piece of her mind when she saw it; her solution. She jumped to her feet, completely disregarding her injury as she bolted out the door and down the hallway in search of Clay.
;
Jax stood on the roof, pacing back and forth as he puffed on his third cigarette, trying to find a way out of this shit. He stared at the manuscript that he had placed back into the leather binding, trying to use all of his willpower not to open it... But he had to. He needed guidance—some kind of confirmation that he wasn't crazy for feeling like he would never be able to see clearly again.
'The older I get, the more I realize that age doesn't bring wisdom, it only brings weary.' He scoffed as he read the first line, nodding along as he listened to the voice of his father whose words spoke to him like he had been reading his mind from beyond the grave, as they always had. 'I'm not any smarter than I was thirty years ago, I've just grown too tired to juggle the lies and hide the fears. Self awareness doesn't reveal my indiscretions, exhaustion does.'
He shut the manual, closing his eyes as he tried to find peace in his father's familiar struggles, but instead all he heard was the sound of the sewage truck pumping sludge from the bathroom, into the giant tank. That was when it came to him…
;
Sydney had almost made it out to the bar when she heard a thud, peering out of the corner of her eye to see Jax jumping down from the ladder right as she was rushing past it. "Hey, hey, hey. Slow down." He grabbed her by the waist before she could hurt herself even worse by running him down.
Sydney flinched when she felt Jax's hands on her, jumping back out of his grip where she blinked awkwardly. "I know how we can get the guns." She recovered quickly, shaking the moment away.
"The truck." He nodded, matching her excitement as he too brushed off the awkward moment.
"Yeah!" She grinned. "We can use it to get Cameron out too."
Jax chuckled as he shook his head with a small eyeroll, of course she had managed to one up his plan... "Only problem's gonna be gettin' that truck." He winced.
"Oh, don't you worry about that." She smirked, grabbing his arm as she took off to set the plan into motion.
;
Clay stood in the chapel, hovering over the flip phone in the middle of the table along with Tig and Bobby as they spoke with Rosen, trying to figure out a way to get a warning out to their incarcerated brother who had apparently already been placed on federal watch...
"Dammit!" Clay yelled, slamming the phone shut. "One step ahead."
"We know how to get the guns out." Sydney announced from the doorway, curbing Clay from shattering yet anotherburner.
"How?" The President perked up.
Sydney looked to Jax, allowing him to present the plan that he wished had been a team effort. "That sewage truck." He nodded towards the back of the building. "We take it to the ports. Make it look like routine maintenance... Bag up the guns, leave the empty crates—feds won't suspect a thing."
"That's how we can smuggle Cameron out—give him that safe passage that he needs as a show of good faith, get our guns flowing sooner in return." Sydney added.
"We can keep him up at the cabin until we find a way to get him up north." Jax explained.
"I'll call Hap… See if he's up for a companion on his next ride up to Tacoma." Clay nodded as he listened to the genius plan, thankful that Sydney had been able to access the clever part of the VP's brain that he had been exiled from.
Sydney felt her blood run cold when she heard Happy's name, blinking a few times as she brushed it off. She wasn't going to let another small victory be eclipsed—not in these times.
"You two put your little lemon heads and matching shoes together to figure this out?" Bobby joked, looking down at the sparkling white Air Forces that she and Jax were both sporting.
"How the hell are we gonna get that truck?" Tig questioned skeptically as he looked between the two of them. He didn't like one bit of this plan, or the way that it had been formulated...
"Already done." Sydney smirked.
"Okay, fine. Then who the hell do you think is gonna be up for that?" He redirected his petty argument, his body stiffening as Sydney narrowed her eyes at him, cocking her brows as an evil smirk came to her face. "No! No, no, no, no, no. Nope. Not doin' it." He shook his head as he held up his hand. "If you want this, you do it." There was no way that he would be spending his Saturday night fishing guns out of a shit tank, and transporting a fugitive.
"Hey, come on, man..." Clay shrugged. "You wouldn't want her doin' that with her injury, would ya?"
"I'm up for it." She shrugged.
"God dammit…" Tig grumbled, of course she called his bluff. He shook his head, ignoring the laughs from his brothers as he stormed out of the room in preparation for a night from hell.
;
Tig was still heavy in his temper tantrum by the time that everybody was getting ready to head out once the cover of darkness slid over the valley. He chewed the inside of his lip, squinting in the evening sun with a pout on his face as he drove Sydney home in silence."There," he pulled the tow truck up in front of her house. "I hope you have a better night than I do." He whined as he leaned over her, and pushed her door open.
"Awe, Tiggy, come on..." She shoved him by the shoulder playfully.
Tig let his body hit the door before he bounced back, dramatically swinging his head in her direction as he looked at her with exhausted eyes that told her that he wouldn't be changing his mind.
"You know…" She lowered her eyes, twirling her finger around his denim covered thigh. "I thought you would be proud of me… Helping the club, doing what you wanted and resting…"
Tig began to roll his eyes, but they fluttered back instead when he felt her gentle touch move to his chest, hooking her pinky into the chain around his neck where she pulled his eyes to hers as she looked up at him with that exaggerated innocence that never failed to make him weak in the knees. "Don't you look at me like that." He pulled away in mock-frustration.
"Why?" Sydney smirked. "Cause you know it'll work?"
"Exactly. Now get inside." He ordered. "I'll text you when the job's done."
"Yes, Sergeant." She whispered in his ear, sliding back across the seat towards her open door—squeaking when she felt herself being pulled back to where he descended his mouth onto hers.
Tig willed himself not to smile as he felt her giggling against his lips. "Don't try and leave the house tonight. I'll be here to get you tomorrow." He ordered as soon as he pulled away.
Sydney shivered under the firm demands that his Sergeant's voice commanded. "Well, if I do, I'm sure you'll know." She smirked mischievously as she hopped out of the truck.
"I will!" He warned her as she skipped up her front steps without a care in the world, shaking his head with a smile as he drove away.
;
Sydney was doing her best to get through the painfully uneventful Saturday night of CSI Miami reruns, and countless levels of Candy Crushwhere she had been sitting with her leg elevated for the last four hours—which was probably the most time she'd spent taking her injury seriously since it happened—but she was bored. She hated being bound to the couch, not even able to do something productive like cooking or cleaning.
She sighed, tossing the TV remote onto the coffee table after flipping through the channels for what felt like the thousandth time. She couldn't take it anymore, she had to do something—talk to someone. She picked up her phone, pressing #2 on her speed dial.
"Hello?" Gemma answered groggily.
"Oh, shit... Did I wake you up?" Sydney scowled, pulling away to look at the time on her phone screen where she saw that it was just barely past 11:30 P.M..
"Just started to doze off, I ain't young like you." She chuckled. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah… Just bored."
"Tig ain't back yet?" She looked to Clay who was still up, reading the paper next to her.
"He texted me when he got to the cabin not long ago, everything's fine. He's spending the night at the clubhouse." She clarified. "I thought I would be okay alone, but this bed rest shit is killing me." She scoffed.
"Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm very glad to hear that."
"Yeah, I bet you are." Sydney rolled her eyes with a chuckle. As much as she hated the bed rest, the loose clothing, the flat shoes, the setting aside of her pride; she was glad that it was actually working—the more rest, and the less walking that she did, the faster the bursts of pain reduced to something manageable.
"Try to get some sleep, baby."
"Okay." Sydney sighed dramatically.
"Goodnight." Gemma chortled.
"Night." Sydney smiled, hanging up the phone where her eyes fell to her bandage that was exposed in the tiny black shorts that she was wearing, the sight reminding her of Tara. Tara... Tara was also struggling with being alone, maybe they could struggle together...
"Hi." Tara answered the phone much quicker than Gemma had.
"Hey, how're you doing?" Sydney asked, glad that the brunette on the other end of the phone sounded genuinely glad to be receiving her call this time.
"Okay." Tara nodded as she looked around her living room as she sat comfortably on the couch where her childhood house was finally starting to feel like home. "How about you?"
"I'm fucking bored." Sydney whined.
"Good, that means you're doing what you're supposed to." Tara laughed.
"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes. "Are you doing anything?"
"Jax is on his way over…" Tara couldn't help but bite her lip in excitement. "Why, are you okay?" She blinked, realizing that she might have completely misjudged the tone of Sydney's call—she was a doctor, after all…
"Oh, yeah." Sydney assured her. "I was just thinking, why both be alone if we could be together..."
Tara was surprised to hear those words come out of Sydney's mouth. She knew that the two had bonded, but she hadn't thought that the young girl had liked her that much. "I could tell Jax another night…" Even though she was surprised, it was a pleasant surprise—she had somehow managed to earn herself the approval of both of SAMCRO's driving female forces, and she knew just how much of an impact that had on the success rate of her and Jax's relationship.
"No, no, it's okay." Sydney chuckled. "Another time." She smiled, she knew that these steps were crucial for Jax and Tara to take.
"I'd like that…" Tara nodded sincerely.
;
Tig laid in bed watching TV after the almost hour long shower that he'd taken to rid himself of the stench that had clung to him like shit clung to guns. He tried to focus on the mind-numbing cartoons that he'd put on in an attempt to lull himself to sleep, but something just didn't feel right without Sydney in bed with him. He stared at his phone on the nightstand, reaching for it before pulling his hand back, repeating the action a few times as he gave himself every reason not to call her. It's almost 2:00 A.M., she needs to rest, she's gonna think I'm just trying to keep tabs on her-
His train of excuses was halted when his phone began ringing, her name popping up on the display. His heart sped up as he flipped the phone open, wondering if it had been some sort of telepathy...
"Hi, baby." Sydney smiled as his voice came over the phone quickly, and much softer than usual at the late hour.
"Hi, Tiggy. Did I wake you up?"
"No, angel." Tig shook his head, feeling his rapidly beating heart swelling in his chest as he listened to her sweet, innocent voice that came across the line as smooth as silk.
"Good." She smiled. "Are you still mad at me?"
"No." He chuckled. "I managed to pawn most of the shit work off onto the others." He grinned at the memory of Juice, Half-Sack, and Chibs' faces when he'd let them know that driving the truck was his portion of the work; emptying the septic tank and fishing out the guns was up to them. "I almost wish that I let you come… You should've heard them gagging." He laughed.
"You should've filmed it for me." She giggled at the thought.
"Yeah, I should've." He chuckled, looking over at his alarm clock. "It's late… You okay?"
"Yeah." She sighed. "Just can't sleep…"
"Would it help if I came and tucked you in?" He suggested playfully.
"Mmm only if you promise to check under my bed for the boogeyman." She joked back in her best 'damsel in distress' voice.
"Doll, I am the boogeyman." He scoffed, a smile coming to his face as soon as he heard her cackle. "You want me to come over?" He asked seriously once her laughing died down, hoping that she would say yes...
"I mean… It would help me sleep…" She mused bashfully.
"Okay, Princess. I'll be there soon." He smiled. He was glad that after all of the push and pull of desperately trying to get her to let him take care of her, she finally was—and there was no way that he was going to miss out on an opportunity to do just that.
"Okay." Sydney grinned. "I love you."
"I love you, too." He smiled before hanging up, quickly gathering some of his belongings before heading over in the tow truck.
When he arrived at her house, he felt a nervous excitement tightening in his stomach as pulled into the driveway to see that she was waiting at the door for him… Something that he never thought he would experience again in this lifetime. He smiled, pushing down the emotion as he stepped out of the truck and inhaled a deep, cleansing breath of the brisk night air.
Sydney felt her stomach fluttering as he approached without a word, wrapping her up in his arms and hugging her tightly. She squeezed him back even tighter, only letting up on her grip when she felt him pulling away so that he could kiss her.
"Let's go to bed." He whispered with his forehead pressed against hers, picking her up when she nodded; carrying her through the dark house, up to her bedroom.
Tig laid her down on the bed gently, hovering over her as he stared into her eyes with nothing but pure affection—something that she could see clear as day, even in the dark. She felt his hand on her waist as he leaned down to kiss her with a burning passion that was anything but sexual, pulling away to get undressed before crawling into bed next to her where he brought her into his arms so that they could both sleep peacefully.
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After years of watching this show and writing this story, I have ALWAYS hated Donna until today… Now I think she kind of a bad bitch? What is happening to me😩
Song for this chapter
Love Songs - Kaash Paige