The veil of secrecy is lifted and the troubled members of SAMCRO are finally able to see clearly, but the downside to transparency is accepting that some sights are pretty than others.

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

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CHAPTER 72: CLARITY

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Sydney hung her head as she listened to the angry exhaust of Tig's bike as he fired up the engine, the loud screeching of his tires following before the bitter reminder of their argument faded away altogether. She tried to take a deep breath, but all she could manage was a shaky, shallow gulp as she reached for her phone, pulling up her contact list. Her bright red thumbnail hovered above the touch screen where she noticed that Half-Sack's name had moved up into Happy's old space in her speed dial—in fact, everybody had moved up into Happy's old space since she'd moved to the new town. Just a few short months ago, he would've been the only phone call that she cared to make, but now she wasn't sure if she would ever be dialling his number, ever again.

She sighed, squeezing the phone in her hand until the screen went black, lowering her head into her hands where she slowly rocked from side to side. She was so overwhelmed with the backlog of shit to process that the day from hell had plagued her with, she had no idea where to start; no idea how to feel.

But she shook the deflation away, snapping her head up and clicking on the prospect's name. She needed to focus on one task at a time, and this was the only one that she felt she might have some chance at accomplishing.

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"Feds picked him up in the middle of the night." Jax paced around the chapel as he regrettably relayed the information that so desperately wished he hadn't found out.

"He go out in cuffs?" Clay asked with his head down, staring at his ring-clad hand where it rested on the gavel.

Jax's eyes fell closed as he sighed. "Neighbours say no..." He admitted begrudgingly. He knew that it was no use lying; the whole town would be talking about it by morning, and lies were what had gotten him into this mess in the first place...

Tig nodded slowly, his brow raising and a scoff rippling up his throat as his theory only became more and more likely—just as he knew it would.

Clay ground his teeth, throwing the bank statement that Juice had pulled, down onto the table. "Ope's debt has been cleared—federal wire transfers."

Jax picked up the papers, pretending to look at the evidence as he shook his head. "It's a setup," he tossed it aside. No matter what it was, he wasn't going to let it be his best friend's death sentence.

"Maybe." Clay nodded, shifting his gaze to Tig, who clearly didn't need the extra convincing that the heavily biased VP seemed to.

"Or," Tig glared right at Jax. "He gave Bobby up. Now he's gone witness protection."

"Why?" Jax raised his voice, praying that the Sergeant would offer up something that he could poke holes through—for their peace of mind and his. "If he wasn't arrested, what's the leverage?"

"Who knows how long they've been chipping away at him, Jax…" Tig shook his head sympathetically. He'd wasted his energy to argue. "Hell, ATF? They could've gotten to him while he was still in Chino."

"That's paranoid shit." Jax pulled out a joint and brought it to his lips as he felt his anger growing; the kind of anger that made his ears ring, and his throat sting. The kind of anger that came from knowing when you've backed yourself into a corner, but he couldn't show any signs of that right now.

"Is it?" Tig squinted. There wasn't anything that he considered to be the product of paranoia when everything that he'd told himself he was paranoid for worrying about, had come true over the course of a single day. "Opie's been a miserable prick since he got out. Maybe they've offered him a new debt free life—just what Donna wanted."

"Ope's not a rat." The blond man stared deep into Tig's bright blue eyes; the bright blue eyes that he knew were capable of murdering his best friend over this. "He did five years for this club."

"Maybe he doesn't wanna do twenty-five more." Tig countered, watching Jax's jaw go slack. Had he been in a better mood, he probably would've revelled in the way that he had learned to win a fight with his words, and not just his fists—something that he'd undoubtedly picked up from Sydney.

"I'm going to see Rosen tomorrow, we'll get some clarity." Clay told the two men sitting on either side of him, hoping to appease them both until he figured out what he wanted to do, and who he could trust...

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Half-Sack hid in the storage closet for as long as he could, praying that maybe, if Tig couldn't find him, he would retire to his dorm for the night and calm down before delivering the beating in the morning. But as the private meeting between the highest ranked officers dragged on, so did his worry that he wouldn't be able to escape the Sergeant's wrath the way that he had the first time.

"Hey, man!" He heard a chipper voice behind him, turning to see Juice. "What're you doing?" The bald man scowled as he watched him swaying back and forth in the corner of the room, awkwardly clutching a broom.

"Oh, uh, j-just sweeping back here," he nodded rapidly. "It's real dirty, you know?"

Juice blinked a few times, looking at the spotless concrete below the prospect's feet. "Whatever," He shrugged, getting back to doing what he was doing. He no longer needed to worry about anybody finding his hidden treasures. "Piney needs you back out there!" He called over his shoulder.

Half-Sack grimaced at the thought, but he knew that he couldn't keep the heavily influential man waiting—that would get him in even more trouble. He pouted, scuffing the floor with the toe of his boot as he reluctantly made his way out the door and down the hall, rounding the corner right as the chapel doors opened…

"Uh, hey, man!" He yelled as he ran over to Piney, hoping that if he looked like he was already occupied by another member, Tig would leave him alone—at least for now.

Piney looked at the spunky prospect with a deep scowl, his eager voice only adding to his annoyance over the events of the day. "Tequila." He grumbled, sliding the empty bottle across the bar.

"Sure!" Half-Sack nodded, ducking down behind the counter as Tig stalked out the door without a word.

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Tara took a deep breath as she stepped out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, wrapping her arms around herself where she allowed the warmth of her skin from the scalding hot shower to melt into the palms of her hands that tingled with the soothing chill of tea tree oil. She slipped into the loungewear that she'd laid out the previous morning, finally getting a start on the quiet evening that she'd spent her entire shift thinking about; stir-fry, wine, and Greys Anatomy. She padded across the soft carpet that no longer felt itchy on her bare feet, making her way to the microwave where she peeled the saran wrap off of her pre-made meal, setting the timer before scurrying over the linoleum until she was back on the carpet, reaching for the remote.

But just as she was about to press her short thumbnail into the power button, she heard a familiar sound; the sound of a motorcyle coming up her street. It wasn't a particularly unusual sound—especially these days—but what was unusual, was the memory of Jax telling her that he wouldn't be seeing her today, that ticked in the back of her brain.

Her forehead creased as the distant chugging of the exhaust got louder and louder until the glare of headlights penetrated the dusty lace curtains that hung over the large living room window, but her confusion didn't fade when she recognized the dark hair and messy curls of the man walking up to her door, it only grew.

"Uh, hi," she stepped outside, greeting Tig before he could reach the door that she had swiftly closed behind her.

"Hey…" Tig hung his head uncomfortably. "Uh, I uh, I need to talk to you about Sydney…"

"Is she okay?" Tara's confusion—and mild paranoia—was quickly replaced with concern.

"I don't know…" He shook his head with a painful grimace. "You remember those pills that I told you about? Well, I found some more…"

The lightbulb went off in Tara's head instantly. Suddenly, it all made sense; why Sydney had wanted her to look at her leg before she saw the doctor, how she seemed to be walking around with no problem, why she'd only been displaying somesymptoms of a concussion after the incident with the cop—symptoms that were similar to drug use.

"Um," her face contorted a bit. She may have understood what was going on, but she wasn't sure what exactly it was that he was asking of her... "Do you think that she's abusing them?"

"Uh…" Tig stammered. "I-I don't know." It was what he'd been thinking, but hearing it out loud suddenly made the conclusion seem so ridiculous. "I don't know why else she would hide 'em from me," he tried to explain. "Uh," he lowered his head as the frustration began building once again. Not only had he just let his shock embarrass himself, but he'd let it embarrass his old lady, too—and in front of a fellow old lady, nonetheless.

"Well, I'd imagine she's in a great deal of pain with the way that she stresses muscle damage that severe…" Tara softened her voice, dropping the sternness that she was still trying to unlearn around the club.

"Muscle damage?" He scowled, lifting his head back up.

"So she didn't tell you..." Tara chuckled.

"No," Tig chuckled humourlessly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "No, she didn't."

"I had my suspicions." She offered a friendly smile. "You got yourself a handful..."

"You can say that again," he chortled, shaking his head.

"Well, it sounds like you've found your reason." Tara nodded gently. "A doctor can't prescribe anything that isn't in a treatment plan. Since the amount of mobility she's had wasn't in her plan, there was no reason to be prescribed the pills."

"So she really is just taking them to help the pain." He nodded slowly.

"That's what it seems like."

Tig felt some of his anger fading as the truth easier to understand. He supposed he was glad that the answer hadn't been simple; that there had been more to the story—even if he was upset that she hadn't felt like she could trust him with it. But the more that he thought about it, the more he understood why she didn't. He wasn't calm, or collected, or logical, and the reaction that he would've had to finding out the severity of her injuries was probably the exact reaction that she'd wanted to avoid; the kind of reaction that had him standing on Tara's driveway, flooded with guilt because he'd let his mind go to the worst-case scenario. Sydney hadn't been seeking out drugs behind his back because she wanted more than the doctors would give her, she'd been seeking out drugs behind his back before the doctors wouldn't give her any at all.

Tara watched the slight changes in the facial expression of the distraught man as he dove deep into his thoughts, his jaw clenching and his nose twitching. "Unless…" She broached the subject gently. She didn't want him to feel stupid for whatever conclusion he'd come to, and talking it out was the only way that both of them could know for sure. "There have been signs of something else?"

"What?" He refocused his eyes, snapping out of his thoughts as he realizing what it was that he was still doing. "Nah," He shook his head, turning back towards his bike. "Thanks, Doc." He tipped her a nod as he grabbed his helmet. He needed to get the hell out of there before he said anything else that he would regret.

"Tig, wait!" Tara could tell that, whether it was her doing or his own, he'd gotten spooked—and that was the last thing that she wanted as she tried to ease herself back into Jax's world.

Tig turned back to the brunette, raising his brows expectantly as she walked over to his bike. "If you really think that she's abusing them," she lowered her voice as she leaned in closer to him. "You can tell me. I can help. And I promise that nothing you've said to me will leave this driveway..."

"No," Tig shook his head. "No, it's not that—I thought it was, but I see now that I might've overreacted…"

"Yeah," Tara nodded sympathetically. "I know how that can happen when we aren't given the whole truth… But I also know how strong Sydney is, and anything she's hidden from you is to try and protect what she feels for you." She hoped that the explanation would help both him and her new friend, knowing it to be true because it was exactly what Jax had done to her in the past, and she'd never been able to understand it until this very moment.

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Sydney sat frozen in the same spot on the couch in her backyard that she'd been sitting in since Tig had left hours ago, only having gotten up to sweep the pills off of her kitchen floor, and flush them away for good. She stared distantly into the red coals in the centre of the damn table that all of these recent incidents had her growing to resent, listening to the crickets getting louder in the hills as the sun set lower in the valley. She had no idea what she wanted to happen, all she knew was that her nerves spiked each time that a car could be heard in the distance, and her heart sank when each time, it passed.

She sighed, letting her exhausted body tip over onto the white cushions below her, curling up into the fetal position where, even through the numbness that the abundance of shock had caused, she felt her muscles throbbing, and her eyes welling up.

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Donna bursted into the small room where her husband was being held, running into his arms as soon as she saw him. "Opie..." She sobbed into his chest as the weight of her decision became heavier, the clear answer getting murkier as he held her tightly.

"Are the kids okay?" He whispered into her hair as he rubbed her back.

"Yeah," she wiped her eyes as she pulled away, remembering why she was there in the first place—for the safety of her kids. "Your mom's coming to get them in the morning."

"My mom?" He scowled. "You serious?" He hadn't spoken to his mother in years—not since she'd walked out on him. She was the absolute last person that he would've expected to show up for his kids, when she hadn't even been up to show up for her own.

"ATF spooked my family." Donna told him bitterly. She may have been there for the safety of her kids, but it was because of what Opie had done.

Opie looked at the mirror on the wall as he sat down, hoping she would understand that ATF was watching them at this very moment. The last thing that he needed was to give them any more incriminating evidence.

"Stahl said the club thinks you turned on them." Donna began in the safest way possible.

"They hauled us in here to make it look like we took a deal... That bitch hung me out as a rat—hoped that she could scare me into giving something up about a crime that I know nothing about."

Donna scoffed as she looked into the deceitful eyes of her husband. "They have a witness who saw you and Bobby."

"It's bullshit." He tried to stay calm as he watched the pain wash over the only woman that he had ever loved; the pain that he was causing her, that his lies were causing her. "I didn't kill anyone..."

Even if Donna thought that he was being truthful, she knew that he had enough involvement to put her family in danger; guilty by association—the life of a Son. "Ope," she reached for his hands. "They can give us a chance to start over. Shouldn't we look at that? For the kids?"

"Donna," Opie sighed, pulling back with a roll of his eyes. "Witness protection is a joke. Did she tell you that most of the guys go back to the life, or end up dead? Usually by their own hand because they can't stand living a lie." He couldn't let his wife fall for this scam; the scam that would undoubtedly be his demise. "Is that what you want for me?"

Donna shook her head as tears of anger came to her eyes. She couldn't believe that she was sitting in front of a criminal—a criminal that she loved—listening to him tell her that he would rather put her life in danger—their kids in danger—than make things work the way that millions of other people made them work, everyday. "I want us to be a family," she grit her teeth. It was all she'd ever wanted. Why couldn't he just want the same thing?

"Getting in bed with these people is gonna be the worst thing that ever happened to our family," he seethed, watching as she struggled to comprehend how any of what he was saying could be true. "You gotta trust me…"

"What are you gonna do, Miss Donna?" Stahl whispered as she watched the desperate couple from the other side of the glass, shaking her head with a smirk as the final phase of her plan came to life before her hateful eyes.

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Tig cracked the throttle as he sped down Main Street, turning left at Sydney's favorite coffee shop where he coasted up the small hill, revving as he took another left onto her street before pulling into the driveway. He cut the engine the second that his feet hit the pavement, tossing his helmet over the handlebars and making a beeline for the backyard where he knew she would undoubtedly be.

Just a few short months ago, the Sergeant would've found himself drowning his problems in pussy. A few short weeks ago, he would've found himself drowning his problems in booze. But today, for the first time in his life, he found himself tackling his problems head-on—the ones that he could, at least.

Sydney jolted awake when she heard the unmistakable sound of Tig's loud exhaust. She sat herself up quickly, blinking the sleep out of her eyes as fast as she could as she tried to mentally prepare herself to try having this conversation again—ignoring the tenderness that she immediately felt in her face.

Even though she knew that he was coming by the loud slapping of his heavy boots against the tiled walkway between her house and garage, she still flinched when he pushed the gate open, staying silent as she watched him briskly walk across the yard and up the steps to the patio where he sat down next to her.

Tig rubbed his goatee for a few seconds as he tried to figure out where to start. "Okay," he inhaled deeply. "So maybe I jumped the gun a little…" He didn't take his eyes off of the fire in the middle of the table as he spoke. Sydney raised an eyebrow slightly as she waited to find out what had been the cause of not only this revelation, but the calmness behind it—something that she had not expected at all. "I talked to Tara... She told me about the muscle damage." Sydney hung her head, nodding slowly as another one of her secrets was brought to the surface.

Tig watched her body shrink guiltily as he confronted her with the new information. "So that's why you didn't want me at the doctor..." He surmised now that it was clear what had really taken place.

Sydney didn't know what to do except continue nodding while she had the motivation of guilt, and the numbness of shock on her side to get as much out on the table as possible.

"Will you at least tell me if you're okay…" He whispered.

"They said that I'm healing up fine," she lifted her head, but still avoided the pain of looking into his eyes. "But I'm not supposed to be walking on it as much as I've had to—" she stopped herself. "As much as I have been." If she wanted to move past this, she had to take accountability for her actions. "That's why—"

"That's why you're feelin' more pain than the doctor expects you to be," he cut her off. "And why you needed the pills… Couldn't get 'em from him, so you had to get 'em from Half-Sack."

Sydney nodded slowly once again as she chewed her lip. She was glad that he seemed to understand why she'd done it, but she knew that asking him to be okay with it would be too much.

Tig hung his head as she confirmed every working part of his more educated theory, resting his forehead against his folded hands. "That why you've been so emotional?" He asked regrettably, feeling a confusing wave of both deflation and relief when she nodded in response. Part of him was hurt to find out that what he'd thought was her opening up, was actually just a display of guilty compensation and heightened sensitivity from the narcotics, but the other part of him was glad to know that he didn't have to continue worrying about her fragility.

He took a deep breath. He knew now just how severely he'd misjudged the situation—no thanks to her vow of secrecy—but he also knew that the only way that they could properly move past the issue, was if she knew why he had severely misjudged the situation...

"My buddy…" He began even more regrettably. "That one that I told you about in Tacoma, the guy I used to live with?"

"Boxed food?"

"Yeah, him," he smiled briefly before the corners of his mouth quickly turned back down. "He became an addict after the army... I got him into SAMCRO to kick that."

"Tig," Sydney sighed. "I'm not—"

"Colleen," he cut her off. "My ex... She was into some real heavy shit—probably still is."

"Alexand—" She raised her voice as he tried to group her in with the junkies of his past.

"My old man," he cut her off again with a voice even louder than hers as he stared deep into her glossy, bloodshot eyes. "Would get real high and beat me and my mama until he couldn't beat us no more. For hours. Every night, until it wore off."

Sydney shut her mouth the second that the words left his. She'd understood the point that he was trying to make, but being compared to such lowlives by the one person who she wanted to think the world of her, was not something that she was eager to entertain. Her mind drifted back to the night at the clubhouse when they'd first had this conversation, wishing that she would've remembered how guilty she'd felt in that moment for being so selfish. But now she finally understood why he'd been upset—something that she should've been focusing on rather than how he'd expressed that. If she'd really known why, she never would've done this—but if she'd been honest with him from the start, then maybe she wouldn't have had to.

Tig reached for her hand as he saw the gears turning behind her eyes, knowing the awful things that she was surely telling herself right now, because they were the same awful things that he'd been telling himself just minutes ago. "I know you're nothing like them. Okay?" He rubbed his thumb the ring—his ring—that sat on hers. "You are nothing like your mom," he assured her. "I just can't go down that road again… Not blind, at least."

Sydney nodded as he rubbed her knuckles, feeling the anxiety leaving her body under the comfort of his touch. She'd always known that they'd had a lot in common, but as they learned how to trust each other with their darkest demons, she could see that they shared more of the same cloth that they'd been cut from, than she'd previously thought

"If you need to hide things from me to protect your seat at the table, then that's what you need to do," he nodded. "But please, just don't do it with this…"

"I'm sorry…" She whispered as tears pooled in her eyes, ignoring the exaggerated sting that they caused her injuries.

"It's okay." Tig nodded sincerely. Regardless of the speed bump that he'd had to get over in order to see just how far he'd come, he was proud of the way that he'd been able to resolve the issue with logic and rationale—something that the fiery Sergeant was vastly unfamiliar with.

"I wish I would've known…"

"This transparency thing is killin' us, huh, doll?" He chuckled.

"Slow and painful…" She chortled in return.

"Come here," he carefully pulled her into his lap, hugging her against his chest as he stroked her long braids and rubbed her back while she gently twirled her fingers into his curls—remaining in the blissful position until he began to doze off.

"Can I ask you something?" He heard her soft voice in his ear.

"Of course." He blinked a few times, waking himself up as she sat up from where she'd been laying against him.

"Don't punish Half-Sack..." She let her eyes fall closed as she made the bold request. "Please… I know that you did before."

Tig felt his chest bubbling with the plentiful anger that he had to spare over the issues of the day that he hadn't been able to tackle head-on. "He tell you that?" He seethed. Apparently Opie wasn't the only rat around the clubhouse...

"He didn't have to." She shook her head before he could get the wrong idea and get even angrier at the poor prospect.

"You know how shit works," he pursed his lips tightly. "He's a prospect. He needs to know his place."

"He's a good kid… You know that."

"I don't give a shit what he is. He crossed a line."

"He did? Or I did?" Sydney leaned down, taking his face in her hands as she stared into his eyes sincerely.

Tig stayed silent when she posed the question; the question that held a correct answer of which he refused to acknowledge. He knew firsthand that Sydney was impossible to say no to, and he appreciated that she had people in her corner besides him, he just wished that the people in her corner weren't eager young men willing to disobey orders from their superiors...

"Tig, he's been through enough. He was just trying to help me—"

"That's my job," he snapped. "You can't trust a prospect to keep you safe."

Sydney opened her mouth, but she stopped herself. She was the one in the wrong here, he had every right to be upset. She just needed to make sure that it was her that he was upset with, and not with Half-Sack.

"I know," she nodded. "And I promise I'll get better at letting you do it," she sighed, forcing herself to break the padlock that she'd tried to keep on her guard after he'd broken his for her—hoping that it would help patch up his bruised ego.

"You really think that's a promise that you can make?" He didn't expect her to be able to let go of her reservations overnight—he sure as hell hadn't been able to, but he didn't want to get his hopes up if she wasn't serious about being able to make the effort.

"I think so." She nodded confidently. Gemma had been right all along, transparency was the only way that this worked.

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Ok so… Y'all know by now that I HATE Donna, and I aint ever been no Opie hoe either, but writing out these scenes between them has totally changed my perspective? That monotone ass deadbeat ass miserable ass loser gaslit and manipulated the SHIT out of her each time that ANY of his actions had some kind of consequence and I am MAD

Song for this chapter

Desperado - Rihanna