Several of Charming's most popular residents find themselves on an unfortunate walk down memory lane—a street that they thought they'd moved far away from.

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 73: MEMORY LANE

;

Sydney awoke to the soothing feeling of Tig stroking the long braids that were still in her hair from the day before. She sighed contently as a smile came to her face after a peaceful sleep, her blissfully foggy brain letting her forget all about what had transpired the day before—until she tried to open her eyes.

"I'm gonna kill him..." Tig whispered as she squirmed against his chest in discomfort, the immediate throbbing in her face bringing everything back to her.

"No you're not." She wrapped her arms around him—something that she wasn't sure she would experience again after both of the incidents from the day before that she had somehow managed to maneuver through. Maybe her luck with her guardian angel hadn't run out, after all...

She kept her eyes closed as she pressed her lips to his bare chest; another painful action that reminded her just how much damage the asshole had done to her face. "Did you sleep?" She asked as she trailed her hand down the tense muscles in his back.

"Enough," he lied. He hadn't slept a wink after abandoning his usual coping mechanisms that had always doubled as a sedative during stressful times. Instead he spent most of the night with his eyes glued to the ceiling fan while Sydney's gentle breathing served as a soundtrack to the extensive plotting that he had done against the long list of people that had dared to wrong him in the past few days.

Sydney frowned, taking a deep breath as she slowly pried her eyes open, tilting her head back to look up at him—forcing herself not to recoil when the pain became evident on his face as he gazed upon what she was sure was a god-awful sight.

"Is it bad?" She whispered shamefully, lowering her eyes.

"Does it hurt?" Tig tried to keep his angry voice level as her scuffed up face came into full view, his memories of the damage no longer being the only thing that he had to reflect on now that the harsh reality was right in front of his eyes.

"You didn't answer my question," she smirked slightly, doing what she could to keep the mood light for both of their sakes.

"You didn't answer mine." He countered, his hardened expression staying firmly in place.

"So it is bad…" She shrunk further in his arms.

"No," he shook his head, bringing his hand up to her face gently so that she couldn't look away. It wasn't a lie, even black and blue, she was still the most beautiful woman that he'd ever laid his eyes on, but any marks from another man on his old lady would always be bad enough for Tig. "But I can tell it hurts." He brushed his thumb over the cut on her lip as he examined the dark bruising under her eyes, feeling her tense under even the minuscule pressure. "Do you need some?" He asked quietly.

"They're gone." She shook her head bitterly as the sore subject surfaced once again.

"I know," he nodded gently. "Do you need some?" He asked again, looking deep into her blood-pooled eyes where he knew that the answer had to be yes.

"Not if it's going to make you uncomfortable..." She whispered as she fiddled with the chain around his neck, running her thumb over the gold heart in search of the much-needed strength that it used to give her.

"Right now, seeing you be more comfortable might be the only thing that would help me not be so uncomfortable." He nodded sincerely, pulling her tightly into his arms and pressing his lips to her forehead.

;

Wendy felt her heart threatening to pound out of her chest as the yellow taxi pulled up in front of Jax's house—her old house, the only house that she had to go to. She took a deep breath as she pretended to dig through her pockets for some cash, realizing that she couldn't stall any longer as the driver popped the trunk and rounded the car where he fished out her small suitcase. She closed her eyes and exhaled as cleansing of a breath as she could—something that she'd learned to do during stressful situations—before reaching for the door handle, and stepping out onto the pavement.

"Thanks, man." She handed the dark-haired driver a crumpled twenty-dollar bill, grabbing her suitcase before she began slowly making her way up the driveway where the only vehicle that she saw was a big white painter's truck. She shrugged, deciding as she walked up to the front door that the less Tellers that were present for her homecoming, the better.

"Shit," she cursed as she jammed her golden key in the lock that it no longer fit. "Of course," she chuckled humourlessly, shaking her head—of course they'd had the locks changed. She sighed, stuffing the key back into the pocket of her jeans as she walked around the side of the house, hoping that maybe they hadn't thought to change the lock on the back door.

"We've just finished, ma'am." She jumped when she heard a voice next to her, looking around in search of the source where she found a young hispanic man looking at her through the open kitchen window, holding up a bucket of paint. "Oh," she breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, thanks." She gave a friendly smile, rounding the house to the back where she entered through the open door, her overactive senses sending a sharp ringing through her ears as they were assaulted by pungent the smell of fresh paint.

She walked through the small house slowly, as if she was walking through an art museum—an art museum of her shortcomings—taking in the foreign space that she used to call home. It had been completely redone since she'd lived there just a few short weeks ago; since she'd almost killed her son just a few short weeks ago, since she'd last shot up just a few short weeks ago… No. She shook the thought away. A few short weeks of sobriety was more than enough. She couldn't throw that kind of progress away like she'd done in the past… Not now that she had something to be clean for.

;

Gemma sat at her desk sipping on a raspberry smoothie—the breakfast that she'd thought Sydney would find the most comfortable to eat—when she heard a knock at the door. "Gemma?" Her forehead creased at the sound of the familiar voice, turning her head to see the one and only Mary Winston standing before her.

"Mary," she blinked in surprise. "Jesus Christ… What are you doing here?" Her face contorted. She hadn't seen the blonde woman in almost fifteen years—and she hadn't expected that she would ever see her again.

"I was hoping that you could tell me," Mary crossed the threshold, her eyes drawing towards the battered young girl sitting at the desk to her right. This place was just as toxic as she remembered… "I got a call from the feds asking me to pick up my grandkids from the Department of Justice facility in Stockton." She spit out bitterly.

Sydney's head snapped up as soon as she heard the words leave the older woman's mouth, ignoring the immediate throbbing that she felt behind her eyes as she realized who this was, and what her visit meant…

Gemma eyed Sydney wearily across the room, looking back to the former old lady as the sound of Jax pulling onto the compound cut the tension. "Let's find out," she nodded out the door, giving Sydney a stern look that told her to stay put. She knew more than enough about what Clay thought was going on with Opie, but she couldn't let her son's best friend be taken from him over a possible misunderstanding, and she definitely couldn't let her son's best friend be taken from him over a possible misunderstanding that had been influenced by outside sources…

Jax ripped his sunglasses off as Gemma came shuffling out the door with Mary in her wake, needing to be sure that what he was seeing was actually there. "What the hell is Opie's mom doing here?" He scowled. He'd thought that the older woman had left the MC behind for good over a decade ago.

"She's picking up her grandkids from the Department of Justice facility." Gemma whispered through gritted teeth.

"Oh my god…" Jax's head hung under the weight of ever more incriminating evidence against Opie, but he quickly shoved that down as the light-haired woman approached. "Hey, Mary," he gave her a friendly nod.

"What the hell did my kid do this time?" She snipped.

"Nice to see you, too," he chortled. She was just as he remembered.

;

Tig dragged his feet over the pavement as he made his way across the garage, the weight of his sorrows after a nearly sleepless night taking their exhausting toll on his aging body. He sighed as he slumped over his toolbox, digging through the mess of wrenches as he searched for his 12mm, perking up when he heard a loud wolf-whistling behind him.

"Golly," Dog hollered at Sydney as she emerged from the office door, a bashful smile coming to her face. "I'd love to be the other guy..." He winked.

"I bet you would." She mused with a smirk, thankful for the older mechanic who was clearly trying to make her feel better about altered appearance.

"I'd let you take me down in a second, little girl." He nudged her shoulder.

But the appreciation for the light-hearted teasing was instantly replaced with an angry burst of bitter nostalgia as the simple pet name passed through his cracked lips. "Don't call me that." She snapped, forcing herself to hold her eyes on him long enough to portray the seriousness of her command before turning towards Tig.

"Uh," the Sergeant blinked as he looked between a seething Sydney, and a confused Dog—frantically search his mind for the right thing to do. "Hey, Princess," he wrapped is arm around her shoulders and brought her into a gentle hug, eyeing the other mechanic who took this as his cue to leave—the release of her tensed muscles telling him that he had done his job. "They working?" He asked with his lips pressed to the top of her head.

"Not fast enough," she scoffed, her mind shifting from the thoughts of mental pain, to the physical pain—which, thankfully, was much easier to consider.

"You need some more?" He narrowed his eyes.

Sydney felt her heart skip, but she knew better. "Nah, baby. I'm okay." She brushed it off as she pulled her eyes away. He was already going out of his comfort zone to help her, she didn't want to push it.

"Hey," he leaned down, following her gaze. "What I told you was the truth," he spoke softly, even though they were the only ones left in the garage. "The pills don't bother me if I know what they're for… If they're helping you." He nodded sincerely.

Sydney blinked a few times as she forced herself to accept that what he was saying was the truth; that this wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass. "Maybe later," she shook her head, returning to the real reason that she had paid a visit to the garage... "We need to talk to Clay," she widened her eyes. "Now."

"He's still gotta talk to Rosen?" Tig's brows wrinkled.

"No he doesn't…" Sydney slowly turned her head, nodding out the garage where Tig saw exactly what it was that had her so concerned...

;

Jax followed Gemma back into the office after Mary had made her bitter exit, feeling his heart sink even further as he looked over to see Sydney's desk empty. He squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling sharply as he ran his hands down his face. The little gash just couldn't help herself… But just then, she emerged from the garage with Tig in tow; her strides of determination carrying her right past the flustered VP.

"Chapel," she told him coldly as she walked out onto the compound, keeping her gaze fixed on the door to the clubhouse.

Jax chewed the inside of his lip, looking frustratedly at his mother before directing his glare at Tig. "If you don't control your bitch, someone's gonna get hurt." He seethed with a cocky tilt of his head.

"You wanna say that again?" Tig squinted as he walked up on the younger man who dared to insult his old lady. "Huh?" He shoved his hands into his puffed out chest. "A little louder this time."

"Hey!" Gemma hollered before a brawl could take place in her office—a brawl between her son and one of her best friends, at that.

Tig glanced at Gemma apologetically, looking back at her son whom he wished he could respect even half as much as he respected her. "I should tell you to do the same thing," his eyes flicked up and down over the VP as his hardened expression stayed cemented in place, stalking out the door where his own angry strides carried him across the lot quickly, bursting through the door of the clubhouse to see that it was empty except for Sydney, who had already taken a seat at the table, and Half-Sack, who had jumped when he'd come in.

"You," Half-Sack jumped again when Tig addressed him directly this time, feeling his feet carrying him backwards as the man who owed him a beating, hastily approached. He squeezed his eyes shut. This was it… "You don't leave this room." Tig ordered the terrified man before stomping down the hall to make the call to Clay.

"Hey," Sydney heard the tentative voice behind her as she sat at the table with her back to the door, knowing exactly who it was.

"Not now, Kip." She told him without turning around as she ashed her cigarette into the golden tray, her mind racing with what she wished were possible solutions, but was only a multitude of problems. If Opie really had turned, there was no way out of this.

"I, uh, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he crept into the chapel. "I didn't get to see you yesterday after everything..."

Sydney smiled softly. "I guess that I should be the one seeing if you're okay." She spun around in her chair slowly.

"He hasn't done anything yet…" Half-Sack sighed as he looked down the hall where Tig had disappeared.

"I told him not to." Sydney looked away, stamping out her cigarette.

"Syd…" He winced, wearily taking the seat beside her. "I deserve it… I crossed a line." He didn't want her, or her relationship to suffer because of his poor judgment.

"No one deserves to be punished for trying to help somebody the way that you helped me," she cut him off. "I'm the one who messed up."

"Yeah, but… You're an old lady, I'm a prospect…"

Sydney cringed harshly as another set of damning words hit her ears, willing herself to brush them off as the multitude of more pressing matters took priority over her unintentionally bruised ego.

"Shit," he cursed. "I'm sorry… I-I didn't mean it like that. I just meant like, he would never punish you the way that he would punish me… Cause you know, prospects are on like… Probation, you know?" He stumbled over his words as he tried to patch up any damage that his carelessly misogynistic comment may have caused.

Sydney nodded slowly, genuinely believing his apology to be the truth, but she didn't have the energy to spare a verbal response. "So… Things are okay then? With you and him?" He tried to steer the conversation away from her insecurities—a valuable skill that he had learned being around women, as of late.

"Seems to be…" She shrugged.

"Good," he nodded, looking down at the silver charm that hung off of the chain around his neck.

"You talk to her at all?" Sydney pulled out an extra cigarette, reaching over and placing it into his mouth before lighting the end.

"Nah," he exhaled a shaky cloud of smoke, looking back down sadly. "It's easier that way…"

"Yeah…" Sydney nodded slowly. "I get that." She knew all about starting fresh, but it didn't change the pang that she felt in her heart to see one of her best friends so heartbroken, and over something so tragic… Something that she never would've been able to understand the pain of, before she met Tig… "Hey," her delicate hand reached for his, bringing his eyes back up to hers. "I never thanked you for yesterday… What you did with the cop... Hell, I never thanked you for any of it," she scoffed. "Putting your ass on the line for me… Again," a light smile played on her lips, but the guilt quickly crept back in, sending her eyes down this time. "I never should've asked that of you... I'm sorry."

"Hey," Half-Sack lifted her chin as he shook his head. "Don't be." There was no way that he was going to let her feel sorry for letting him feel like he had a purpose here. "Even if it gets me kicked out…" He squeezed her hand. "It felt right."

"It wouldn't feel right if you had to leave because of me." She whispered, giving him a sad smile.

"You told me something..." He looked down as he pulled his hand away, and folded them both on the table. "When you got here… You told me not to let the club turn me into an asshole," he looked back up at her. "I'll take whatever not becoming an asshole earns me."

"You're too good for this place, Kippy." Sydney shook her head back and forth slowly, a genuine smile on her face this time.

"Out." The light-haired pair whipped their heads around to see Jax standing in the doorway with a thumb pointed behind him.

"Uh—" Half-Sack stammered. "Tig said I have to—"

"I don't give a shit what Tig said," Jax shook his head. "Get out."

"He told you to stay in the bar," Sydney nodded, narrowing her eyes. "That's what you were doing."

Jax waited with his arms crossed, watching the prospect as he backed away wearily before slowly closing the door behind him—springing into action the second that the latch caught. "Sydney, you need to think about thi—"

"I don't need to think about anything!" Sydney threw her chair back and stomped up to him, eager for the excuse to take out some of her pent up anger. "What you need to think about is what your little bitch boy is going to do to all of us. That includes you, Jax. You gotta let go of that soft little spot that you have for him, and prepare yourself for a truth that you might not like." She spit out the bitter words that were making her tongue swell.

"He'd never sell out the club." Jax chewed his lip, averting his eyes from her penetrating gaze.

"And what if he did?"

He blinked for a few seconds as he tried to find the courage to speak the words that he never wanted to speak, but he knew that it was the only way to keep his best friend safe... "Then I'll kill him myself."

"You better," she nodded. "Cause I ain't going to jail for no rat."

;

There is SO much foreshadowing in this chapter and I just wanna give everything away😩🙊

Song for this chapter

Country Song - Seether