#half sack

part one - https://writer-of-mayhem.tumblr.com/post/675559203955425280/you-dont-know-her-like-i-do-part-one
part two - https://writer-of-mayhem.tumblr.com/post/675926650790248448/you-dont-know-her-like-i-do-part-two

When you came back to Charming, you expected a lot of different things, but one thing you most certainly hadn’t been expecting was being in the funeral procession for Donna Winston, a woman you’d known for fifteen years, a member of your family. Opie had asked you if you would ride next to him and of course you had agreed; there was a banner reading ‘FUNERAL’ taped to the front of your Harley and every now and again you’d steal a worried glance at your brother. He kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead. Jax was nowhere to be seen and you were pissed that he hadn’t shown up to support Opie, but that couldn’t be your main concern right now. Riding through Charming Cemetery in front of Donna’s hearse was a surreal experience, and not in a good way. You felt this inarticulable, dull ache in your chest that had started the second you found out about her brutal murder and had worsened with every passing day. You had loved her like a sister and in some ways you’d ended up closer to her than Tara, but losing her was more than that; it was proof that all was not well here at home and that everything was more uncertain than it had ever been. Donna’s death was cataclysmic and you hadn’t bargained for such difficulties. You were sorting through so much shit that you genuinely didn’t know if you had any space left in your brain to take on more.

The service was beautiful and the very least that Donna deserved. Jax showed up halfway through and made an example of himself, but mostly everyone ignored him. He had his own shit going on in his head that he needed to deal with, and you would help him the best you could, but not today. Today was about being there for Opie, Piney and the kids. After the burial, you headed back to Opie’s house for the wake which was an extremely pitiful affair. Growing up, Opie had been hard to read, but the older you both got the more difficult it became to understand his emotions. You sat outside in the garden with him watching the kids on the swings, digging through your vocabulary in an attempt to find words that would console him without pissing him off. 

So far, you hadn’t been successful. 

“I don’t need to talk about it,” He told you.
“Okay, Ope. But if you change your mind, you know you can come to me with anything. And if you need help with the kids, just let me know.”
“I will.”

You really didn’t know what else to say, so you just got up and hugged him. It took him a while to hug you back and when he did it was half-hearted, but you knew that was the best you were going to get from him at that moment. You went inside and found Jax leaning against the counter with a beer; he looked far too casual for a wake so you smacked him round the back of the head. 

“What was that for?” He frowned.
“This isn’t the fucking clubhouse, it’s Donna’s wake.”
He rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”
“Don’t ‘Jesus Christ’ me, Jackson Teller. Come outside. I gotta talk to you.”

He followed you out to the front of the house. You perched on your bike and did the same since his was parked right next to yours. You could tell by the expression on his face that he knew where this conversation was headed. 

“What’s goin’ on?” You asked. “Since I’ve been back, I’ve watched someone I love get killed and another get thrown in jail. I feel like I’ve walked into a warzone.”
“That’s because you have,” He spat. “Things ain’t what they used to be. Not with the club, not with me, not with Ope.”
“So I’m realising.”
“The club is involved in a lot of shit and Clay can’t see that we need to get out before it’s too late to come back from it. We need change, but he won’t accept that.”
You understood that your uncle was stuck in his ways, a stickler for tradition. He liked to do things the way they’d always been done and anyone that challenged him never got their way; why would Jax be any different? “You know what he’s like. He likes things done his way.”
“Yeah, but his way is gonna get SAMCRO wiped out. We’ve already got ATF breathin’ down our necks.”
“No shit?”
“I wish that was the worst of it,” Jax swigged his beer. He was more stressed than you’d ever seen him. “I found this book that my old man wrote,” He told you. “It’s about what he really wanted for the club. His vision.”
“And what was his vision?”
Jax smiled sadly. “Not this.”
“Can I read it?” 
“Sure. Just don’t tell Clay. And don’t tell Gemma, either.”
You nodded. “Alright.”

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence. The entire club and anybody affiliated had come to Donna’s wake and the street was lined with an assortment of Harley Davidsons. You looked at each one, trying to figure out who each one belonged to. Since the Prospect’s bike was white, it was pretty easy to pick out and you could tell that the Dyna next to it was Juice’s because you’d been working on it with him for  a couple of weeks, but since Donna’s death you hadn’t really had much time to talk to him. In actual fact, you’d steered clear of TM because the energy there was enough to give you a migraine. You and Gemma had been focusing on prepping your new house for the move, buying furniture (which Half-Sack had the joys of building) and choosing wallpaper samples. 

You took out your pack of cigarettes and lit one, desperate for something to do with your hands. Funerals made you antsy because you always felt like there was more you could be doing, even when there wasn’t. When you glanced at Jax, he was already watching you, worry etched into his features. 

“Why’d you really come home, Y/N?” He asked.
You almost dropped your cigarette. “I told you, I-”
“I know that’s all bullshit. It’s not because you missed us, it’s not because you got bored of Colorado. Something happened to you, didn’t it?”
You sighed. “Somethin’s telling me you already know the answer.”
“Ope told me some of it.”

You nodded. It didn’t surprise you that Opie had told Jax, and not even because of their brotherly bond with each other; it was more because of their brotherly bond with you, and when one of them felt that you needed protecting, they always enlisted the help of the other. 

“So what did he tell you exactly?” 
“He told me that your ex was a dick and that he used to beat on you.”
You flinched. “That all?”
“There’s more?” Jax looked like he was about to be sick. 
“Had an abortion,” You took a long drag of your cigarette. “He got me pregnant and I knew he’d use the kid as a way of keeping me close, so I got rid of it.”
Jax stood up and set his bottle of beer down on the seat of his bike. Seemingly, he didn’t know whether to hug you or hit something. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.”
“I also didn’t want him doing what he did to me to a child,” You murmured. “It wouldn’t have been fair.”
You put your cigarette out and Jax took both of your hands, pulling you up off your bike. He wrapped his arms around you. “I wish you would have come to me.”
“I’m here now.”
“I assume there’s no point in asking what his name is or where he lives?”
You managed a laugh. “Nope. Not a chance. He’s not worth it.”
“Fuck, Y/N,” He sighed. “I’m so sorry you went through all of that.”
“Don’t be sorry. Wasn’t your fault.” 
“Is it just me and Ope that know?”
“So far, yeah. I’ll tell Clay and Gem eventually, I just need a little more time.”
“I can tell them if you want, if that’s any easier.”
“Yeah,” You relaxed somewhat. “Yeah, thanks Jax. I don’t really feel like telling this story a third time.”
“No worries, babe.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”

-

Since Donna’s funeral, you’d had two main focuses: Opie and the kids and your house. Opie was keeping everyone at an arm’s length which was a force of habit for him, but you were doing your best helping Piney with school runs and whatever else you could. The rest of your time was spent putting the finishing touches on your new house, which you were moving into that day. It truly was a gorgeous house and you couldn’t have asked for anything better. When you pulled up to the property, the first thing you saw was the expansive front lawn, winding stone path with a matching driveway which led to the huge double garage where you already knew you’d spend a lot of your time. The house itself was clad with dark oak panels which matched the front porch and door and all of the windows were massive, allowing for plenty of natural light - the bay window in the front room was one of the main reasons you’d chosen the house. 

“I’m in the wrong business,” Chibs elbowed you playfully. “Should be writing books instead of fixing cars.”
You smiled at him. “I don’t make that much.”
He guffawed. “No need to be modest, love.”

Most of the Sons were helping you move into your home. The midday sun beat down on your back as you hauled box after box into the house - you’d finally arranged for the rest of your belongings to be shipped to California with your overly-helpful assistant who you’d been eager to leave behind. Happy and Juice were upstairs putting your bed together, Chibs and Jax were helping you with boxes, Gemma was unloading the massive grocery shop she’d just done for you in the kitchen and Clay and Tig were putting your bookcases together. You paused in the doorway after dumping a box on the floor to catch your breath and put your hair up. Winters in Colorado might have been unforgiving, but summers in California were downright lethal.

“Slackin’ already?” Chibs teased.

You flipped him off and headed through to the kitchen for a glass of water. Gemma took one sight of your flustered self and started making fresh lemonade. 

“You don’t have to do that.”
“I was gonna do it anyway, might as well start now,” She smiled. “How’s it goin’?”
“Good, almost done with the boxes. Unpacking them is gonna be the fun part.” You rolled your eyes.
“We’ll do it tomorrow night  if you like? We’ll open a bottle of wine, order some takeout.”
You grinned. “That sounds great, thanks Gem.”
“You’re coming to Bobby’s party tonight, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” You assured her. “I’m glad he’s finally getting out.”
“Me too. Hey, maybe he’ll get his guitar out and you guys can sing like you used to.”
“Maybe.”

You looked back on these particular memories fondly. Growing up, Bobby had taught you how to play the guitar and you’d learned that you could actually sing pretty well if you put your mind to it. You’d spent countless afternoons with him learning different songs and losing track of time. He was just as much your uncle as Clay was and you had a very strong bond with him. To say you were excited for him to be getting out of jail would be an understatement.  

“I’m gonna go and see how Juice and Hap are getting on upstairs.”
“Okay darl. I’ll call you when the lemonade is ready.”

In your bedroom, Juice and Happy were arguing over which part screwed into which. All of the bedrooms in your new house had a Juliette balcony and the guys had thrown the doors wide open to let in some fresh air. They were both shirtless, a sight that wasn’t exactly unwelcome. When they saw you standing in the doorway, Juice and Happy both looked up.

“Why’d you have to buy the most complicated bed in the world?” Juice whined. “There’s like a thousand parts to this thing.”
You shrugged. “It was the biggest one they had.”
“Why’d you need a Queen sized bed when it’s just you sleepin’ in it?”
Chibs came up behind you with a large box labelled bedroom and nudged you to the side with it. “You can’t say that to a lady, Juicy Boy,” He chastised. “How do ye know she’s gonna be alone in that bed forever?” 
Juice frowned. “I don’t, but-”
“Quit yer moanin’,” He interjected. “And get back to work.”

Chibs smirked at you on his way out and you couldn’t help but smirk back - you had no idea where this flirty banter had come from, but you weren’t exactly opposed to it. Juice seemed to catch on to this and immediately diverted his gaze from you back to the instruction manual for your bed. You knew he had a bit of a thing for you and if you were being completely honest with yourself, seeing him shirtless covered in a sheen of sweat that glistened in the sun had forced you to see him in a new light. Literally. Happy watched you come to this conclusion with an amused look on his face, and you headed back downstairs before he could say anything to you about it. 

Seeing everyone bustling around your house, helping you to make it a home, made you happier than you had been since the early days in Colorado, except this was even better because your family was a part of it. There was a box labelled keepsakes in front of you, and it had sparked your curiosity. You took your keys out of your pocket and sliced through the tape. Inside the box were your photo albums, some of your old journals, your film camera and a bunch of used rolls of film. This was a hobby from your teenage years and there had been a period where you weren’t spotted without this camera on you. In the top of the box was a pack of new film which you decided to load into the camera; chances were it wouldn’t even work, but you decided if it meant you’d be able to commemorate this day, it would be worth a try. 

You pointed the camera at Clay and Tig who were both bent over one of your obnoxiously large bookcases. Your uncle noticed the camera and grinned at you.

“Haven’t seen that thing in years.”
“Neither have I,” You confessed. “I forgot I had it.”
He came over to where you were standing. “You got any of your old pictures?”
You gestured towards the box of albums. “I still need to get the later ones developed. I think it’d be cool to see what’s on those rolls.”

Clay picked out an album at random and flipped to the first page. There were three photos: one of Gemma and Clay in Christmas hats kissing underneath the mistletoe, one of you and Jax opening gifts that Gemma must have taken and one of Jax by himself, grinning like a fool at the camera. Your chest ached at the thought of simpler times, and judging by the look on Clay’s face, he was thinking the exact same thing. He turned to the next page which was full of photos that had been taken on the same day. There was Piney in one of the paper Christmas crowns you got from crackers, Opie and Jax playing cards at the dinner table, Gemma in the kitchen fussing over the roast and Clay looking very regal with a cigar at the head of the table. There was also a photo of you and your uncle taken by Jax, which Clay slid out of it’s spot. 

“Can I have this one?”
“Sure,” You said. “I think I’m gonna frame some of these for the house. Seems like such a waste, keeping them all shut in a box.”
“You should start taking pictures again,” He suggested. 
You’d never really thought about it. “I don’t even know why I stopped.”

Although when you thought about it, you did know why you’d stopped. You took photos of the people you loved and cared about - the people you were scared of losing - and when you moved to Colorado you left all of those people behind. For you, there was nobody worth photographing in Denver because they were all in Charming.

And here they all were, right in front of you. You lifted the camera to your face and snapped a candid shot of Chibs and Jax smoking on the porch, laughing at a shared inside joke. It was definitely one for the wall. 

“Lemonade!” Gemma called from inside the house. 

You found the strap for the camera inside the box so you could put it around your neck. Tig and Clay disappeared to get a drink and you realised just how parched you actually were. You bent over and lifted the box so it was out of the way, and when you looked up, you met Chibs’ eye as he and Jax made their way through to the kitchen. A strange feeling settled over you when he winked at you for the second time that day, but before you could unpack it, Juice came bounding down the staircase, almost knocking you out. 

He seemed to have perfect timing.

-

Later that same day, you were getting ready for the party. Everyone had gone home just an hour earlier after a big dinner at your new house cooked by you and Gemma; you had Christened the new dining table and poured over the old photo albums you’d stumbled upon, much to everyone’s amusement. Juice and Happy were  especially taken with the photographs as they’d all been struggling to picture you being a part of this unusual life they all led. But, as it turned out, you’d once fitted perfectly - before they’d even known what paths they’d take in life - and even though they didn’t say it out loud they all thought that you still fitted perfectly. Especially now that you had a bike of your own. 

You were sitting cross-legged in front of your full-length mirror doing your makeup (your vanity was one of the things that hadn’t gotten done today) and singing along to the music that was playing loudly from your home sound system, another one of the things that had sold you on the property. It was so loud that you almost missed the sound of your doorbell ringing. You paused the song and waited to see if your ears were deceiving you, which apparently they hadn’t been because the doorbell was indeed ringing. 

When you went down to open the door, you were more than just a little bit surprised by the person standing on the other side of it. 

“Sup Doc,” You forced a smile. 

You didn’t like Tara, but if she and Jax were serious about giving things another shot then you would tolerate her. If Jax could forgive her (and you) for splitting, then you supposed you could too. Maybe. She held a bunch of flowers out to you and you took them.

“Little homecoming gift,” She said. “This place is gorgeous.”
“Thanks. They say home is where the heart is.”
“Your writing has really taken off then?”
“Majorly,” You told her about all of your books and some upcoming deals you had with publishing houses. “Hey, do you wanna come in? I’m getting ready for Bobby’s party, but we can talk at the same time.”
Tara smiled. “Sure.”

You were surprised by how easily you and Tara fell back into step. You spent the next hour catching each other up on everything you’d missed since you’d both moved away from Charming, and you started to wonder whether it might be easier than you were expecting to forgive her. You arranged for dinner and cocktails the following week to talk some more. 

“You’re really not gonna come to the club with me?”
Tara laughed nervously. “It’s really not my scene. Plus, me and Jax aren’t in the best place, we need to sit down and talk properly before I start showing up at the club.”
You rolled your eyes. “I don’t give a fuck about Jax, I’m inviting you. So will you come? Please? I’d kill to have another girl around.”
She smiled genuinely and you could tell that she was relieved that you both seemed to be on the same page again. “Fine, fine. I’ll come.”

-

You and Tara started turning heads the minute you pulled into the lot. It was like being sixteen again. She was on the back of your Harley and you had to admit, you’d done an amazing job with her hair and makeup. You’d also lent her one of your favourite tops, and she looked great in it. Clay and Tig were having a hostile-looking conversation with a pompous looking asshole in a suit, so you and Tara went straight inside to get some beers. Jax spotted you first and started waving you over, but then he saw Tara and stopped. He seemed shocked to see the two of you together and you couldn’t really blame him. Tara went over to speak to him and you took the opportunity to welcome Bobby home. 

“Munson!” You yelled. 
He turned around and when he saw that it was you, he gave you a huge bear hug. “Thanks for coming, Y/N.”
“You really think I’d miss this? Hell no. Let me get you a beer.”
“Oh, he moved on from beer a little while ago,” Chibs appeared at your side, smirking knowingly. “He might be better suited to a round of shots.”
You grinned. “Shots for everyone then,” You turned around and yelled at the Prospect. “Shots for everyone, Sack!” 

You ended up spending the majority of the night heavily drinking with the guys. Tara and Jax left pretty early, probably to have that ‘chat’ Tara was talking about earlier. You and Juice were currently seeing who could down the most vodka without throwing up. You won this little competition and Juice had to sprint to the bathroom before he threw up everywhere. 

“You’re like a machine,” Half Sack said. “How can you drink that shit without puking. Tastes like gasoline.”
You shrugged. Juice had reappeared looking a little bit worse for wear. “Guess I can just handle my booze, unlike some.”
Chibs elbowed Juice. “Yer pathetic, ye know that?”
Juice rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks Chibs.”

Bobby - along with most of the other guys - had either disappeared with a girl or was occupied with one on a couch or table. There was a couple of crow eaters sitting on bar stools giving you the evils, probably jealous of your closeness to the Sons. You hadn’t had to whore yourself in order to get into their good graces and they seemed to have actual respect for you, something they weren’t familiar with. You ignored their glares and focused your attention on Juice who looked like he needed to puke again. 

“You look like death.” You said. 
Chibs laughed. “She’s got a point. Maybe you should call it a night, aye?”
“Yeah,” He agreed. “I’m gonna head to bed.”
“See you in the morning, Juicy,” You smiled. 
“Night, Y/N.”

Juice dragged himself off to the dorms and you took yourself outside for a cigarette. Chibs followed you and when you perched yourself on one of the picnic benches, he sat next to you. 

“That poor lad almost drank himself into a coma tryin’ to keep up with you,” He pointed out. “He really likes ya.”
This was getting harder and harder to deny. “So?”
“So, if you like him too, you should tell him,” Chibs offered you one of his cigarettes and you accepted it. “And if not, you should tell him that too. Wouldn’t want anyone getting their hopes up.”
You raised a brow. You liked Chibs, he’d been here before you left but you still didn’t know him that well. “What’s this got to do with you?”
“I like Juice, I sponsored him when he was a prospect,” Chibs explained. “He’s got a soft heart.”
“Yeah, I’m gathering that.”

You looked at Chibs, really looked at him for the first time. There was something inherently dangerous about the man that went beyond surface level things like his scars and his kutte. You could practically feel the electrical current that thrummed through his veins, the sometimes brutal strength that coursed through his blood. His dark hair was peppered with grey and when he leaned over slightly to light his cigarette, it fell into his eyes. He ran his slender fingers through it and glanced up at you, catching your gaze. 

“What?” He asked.
“Nothing,” You said. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking about what?”
“I never thought I’d be back here,” You admitted, the alcohol giving you freedom of speech. “I thought that when I left five years ago, I was turning my back on Charming.”
“And now?”
“And now I can’t even remember why I wanted to leave in the first place.”

-

End of part three

: Y/N Morrow is over the moon to be moving back to Charming after spending years away from her family, but they know that something isn’t right. What went so wrong that she had to pack up and move all the way back to California, and what will happen when the past she was running from follows her home? 

You pulled into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive, the deafening roar of your Harley Davidson’s engine announcing your arrival to everyone. You hadn’t told anybody that you were coming and you knew it would be a surprise, especially for your Uncle Clay, and to say that you were excited to see their reactions was the understatement of the year. A line of black bikes were lined up outside the shop, glistening in the scorching, mid-afternoon sun, a telltale sign that most of the Sons were either in church or working in the garage. An unfamiliar blonde guy in a Prospect kutte climbed out of the Teller-Morrow pick-up when he saw you pull in, an inquisitive look on his face. You parked your bike at the very end of the row and took off your helmet, shaking out your Y/H/C curls and getting a carton of cigarettes out of the pocket of your worn leather jacket. The Prospect watched this little show with an open-mouth, and you couldn’t help but toy with him a bit by offering him a cigarette. 

“Smoke?”
“Uh, n-no thank you,” He stammered. “I’m all good.” He took out his own pack as if to prove this to you. 
You flashed him your best man eating grin, one that you had been perfecting since your teenage years. “What’s your name, Prospect?”
“Half-sack,” He informed you with an embarrassed, lop-sided grin. 
“That your real name?”
“Er, no.”
“Do I wanna know why they call you that?”
“Probably not.”
“Where are the guys?”
“I got no idea. You know them?”
You smirked. “Guess you could say that. Clay’s my uncle.”
“No shit! I didn’t know he had any family besides Gemma.”
“Most people don’t. So, is he here?”
“He’s probably in the office,” He admired your bike, your pride and joy. “Nice ride.”
“Thanks. 883 Superlow. Did all the mods myself.”
Half-sack raised a brow. “Clay teach you?”
“Jax and Ope, too. And Piney,” You took a long drag of your cigarette. After riding up from Colorado, you were exhausted. It had taken you almost two days and you had only stopped for a short period of time in a dusty old Motel, so it was safe to say that you needed a drink, a few cigarettes and a nap. “As much as I’d love to sit here all day telling you my life story, I should probably let the others know I’m here. It was nice meeting you, Half-sack.”
“Yeah, you too…” He trailed off. “I didn’t get your name.”
“Y/N Morrow.”

You put out your cigarette with the heel of your boot and headed in the direction of the Clubhouse. It was just as you had remembered it and you couldn’t decide whether this was comforting or not. The smell of smoke and whiskey hit you the minute you walked through the doors, and the chapel doors were closed and it seemed that all the guys were in there, so you took it upon yourself to fix yourself a drink or three while you waited. They were in there a while, and Gemma ended up being the first person other than Half-Sack to greet you.

“Y/N!” She yelled, almost pulling you off the barstool you were perched on in an attempt to hug you. “What are you doing here?! Why didn’t you call?!”
You wrapped your arms around her, relaxing instantly. Words couldn’t express how good it felt to be home. “Wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, that’s one word for it darlin’,” She held your shoulders, taking in your appearance. “You ride all the way here from Denver?”
“Yeah, I thought it’d be hell, but the ride did me good.”
“Have you seen Clay yet? He’s gonna lose his shit. What’s it been, five years?”
“About that, yeah.”

You didn’t want to talk about those five years you’d spent in Denver. When you left Charming and your entire family behind, you knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you felt like you’d never leave home if you didn’t bite the bullet and take a job opportunity that had fallen in your lap. Clay and Gemma had pretty much raised you - your parents were deadbeats, and a sore spot for your uncle - and Jax was pretty much your brother, so leaving had been one of the hardest things for you, but you had spent those five years finding yourself, growing and working on your writing. It had been one long breath of fresh air, a taste of life away from the Sons of Anarchy, but you missed your family and were ready to move back home to be closer to them. And that’s exactly what you told Gemma. 

“You got a place to stay, baby?” She asked.
“Not yet, but I’m looking at a little house tomorrow afternoon. Buttersweet Rise.”
Gemma raised a brow. “That’s a nice neighbourhood. Your books are selling well, I take it?”
“Well enough,” You grinned. 
“I’ll go with you, make sure the landlord doesn’t take any liberties. Stay at our place until you get sorted.”
“Thanks, Gem.”

The chapel doors swung open and the guys’ voices spilled out; they were talking and laughing about something, but when they saw you and Gemma sat at the bar, all the voices stopped. Jax was the first one to say anything. 

“You gotta be shittin’ me!” He yelled, basically running at you. You met him halfway and let him pick you up and spin you around, sending you into fits of giggles. 
“Hey, big bro.”
He set you down but didn’t let you of you. You looped your arms around his neck. “What are you doing here? Did you ride all the way from Denver?”
“Yup. I’m coming home.”
“What do you mean? For good?”
“If that’s okay with you.”
Jax grinned and picked you up again. “Of course it’s okay with me.”

When Jax moved aside, Clay was already waiting with open arms. In a weird way, you felt eleven years old again, tucking yourself into your uncle’s arms and feeling the world and it’s pressures melt away. He held you like that for a long time, and kissed the top of your head. 

“It’s good to see you, my love.”
“You too, Clay. I missed you.”
“I wish you would’ve called. Me and Jax would have ridden halfway and met you.”
“It’s okay, the journey did me good.”
Piney hugged you and kissed both of your cheeks, clearly over the moon to see you. “Gonna call Ope,” He told you. “He’ll wanna come down here and see you.”
You looked to your uncle. “When did he get out the clink?”
“Few months ago,” He explained. “Donna wants him earning straight, so he’s not around as much as he used to be.”

Bobby and Tig came and hugged you and introduced you to Juice who hadn’t been there when you’d left. He seemed nice enough, someone you could get along and have a laugh with. Chibs was the last one to greet you. The Scotsman took his time taking in your appearance as though he was making sure you were still whole after all this time. Once he was satisfied, he wrapped his strong arms around your waist and held you close for a few moments before letting you go. Overall, it was a fairly weird exchange, but you didn’t have time to unpack that right now. 

“Jax,” You said, spinning around. “You gotta come see my bike.”
He grinned. “Come on then. We got a lot of catching up to do.”

-

Jax wasn’t kidding when he said that the two of you had a lot of catching up to do. The last time you’d spoken, Wendy had just found out that she was pregnant and Jax was a little messed up about it all. Since then, the crank whore you’d despised from the word ‘go’ had almost killed her baby, had to have a premature c-section and had been shipped off to rehab for what felt like the hundredth time. The baby was due home any day now, and his name was Abel. 

“That’s a beautiful name, Jax,” You said. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
“I’m going to the hospital later on, you should come with me. I’m sure Tara will be surprised to see you.”
“Tara?”
“She had the same idea as you, apparently. She’s moved back into her Pa’s old place.”
“Shit, I didn’t even know,” You leaned against your bike, which Jax was inspecting while he filled you in on everything you had missed, which was clearly a lot. “Haven’t spoken to her in a couple years.”
“Yeah, no shit. You basically fell off the face of the earth.”
You folded your arms. “I needed space.”
“And now?”
“It gets lonely up in the Rockies.” 
Jax laughed. “So you made your fortune and now you’re back in Charming. What’s next?”
You lit a cigarette and offered one to Jax. He took one from the carton and gestured for your lighter. “No idea. Maybe I’ll write a book about Charming.”
“The amount of shit that’s been happening, you won’t be short of ideas,” Jax took a drag of his cigarette and crouched down to take a closer look at your bike. “This must have set you back a pretty penny. When you left, you were on a piece of shit Street Rod.”
“She wasn’t a piece of shit,” You frowned. “Me and Ope fixed her up, she ran just fine.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t give up on you halfway to Denver.”
“It’s still in my garage,” You told him defensively. “When the rest of my shit gets shipped down here, she’s coming with.”
Jax rolled his eyes and smiled. “Always the sentimental one.”

Opie pulled into the lot in his truck, a black and white bandanna keeping the sweat from dripping down his face. He was dressed casually in jeans and a flannel shirt and he was covered in sawdust, presumably from the job that Jax was telling you about (the job that was making him miserable) but you ran at him anyway, squealing in delight when he picked you up. Jax might have been your brother by family connection, but Opie was your brother too. You and him spent the same amount of time together growing up than you did with Jax, maybe even more, and he had taught you pretty much everything you knew about bikes. 

“God, I missed you,” You sighed. “It’s been too long.”
“Yeah,” He scoffed, setting you down. “And whose fault is that?”
“Mine,” You said sheepishly. “But I’m back now. Back for good.”
“Get bored of Colorado?”
“Nah, I just missed my brothers.”
Opie softened and put an arm around your shoulders. “That yours?” He asked, gesturing to your cherry red bike.
“Yup.”
“Talk about an upgrade.”
Jax smirked. “I was just sayin’ the same thing,” He said.

You spent the next hour talking about bikes and everything else you’d missed with Jax and Opie, blissfully unaware of the passing of time. Opie had to get home to see Donna and the kids, so you and Jax headed to St Thomas’ to see the baby. You also suspected that it was to get you out of the way so Gemma could organise a little homecoming for you at the Clubhouse - true SOA style - but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. 

Abel was dozing in his bassinet, and the first thing you noticed when you entered the room was his blue Sons of Anarchy hat. “Start them out young,” You said.

“Exactly.”

Jax picked him up and handed him straight to you. You were taken aback by his tiny, perfect features and they way they resembled Jax’s. You sat down in the rocking chair and adjusted him in your arms so that he was more comfortable, and he stirred slightly, opening his eyes and looking up at you curiously. Your chest ached slightly and you couldn’t explain why since you had never really given kids a second thought before. 

“Y/N?” 
Your head snapped up. Tara Knowles, your best friend throughout high school, was standing in the doorway holding a milk bottle and a clipboard. You had to admit, that uniform looked good on her. “Hey, Tara. Long time no see.”
She looked to Jax and then back to you. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought it was about time I came home. I could ask you the same question, doll.” She handed you the bottle and you smiled down at Abel who took it willingly. “There’s a good boy.”
You didn’t miss the anxious glance she shared with Jax, and you made a mental note to ask him about it later. “I came to sort out my dad’s house, but I think I’ll stay put for a while.”
“Me too.”
“We should go for drinks.”
“I’d like that.”
“You should stop by the Clubhouse later,” He told her. “I think there’s gonna be a welcome home party for Y/N.”
Tara nodded. “Sure, yeah. I’ll stop by after work.”
You flashed her a grin. “I’ll see you then, Doctor.”

She left you and Jax to it, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You hadn’t seen her since she split for Chicago when you were just teenagers, which had been just as hard on you as it had on Jax but for different reasons. Growing up with guys meant that your friendship with Tara was respite, a way to get away from the chaos for a while, and you had felt the sting of her absence every single day up until you split too. You doubted you’d ever forgive her for it, and it was clear that she knew that.

“Go easy on her,” Jax warned. “She’s had a rough few weeks.”
“Yeah? I had a few of those myself when she up and left without a warning.”
“You can talk, Y/N.”
“Hey, that was different.”
“Not that different.” 
“I’m sorry, Jax.”
“I know. We don’t need to talk about it, it’s in the past,” He ran his fingers through his hair that was in desperate need of a cut. “There’s somethin’ I wanna ask you.”
“Uh-oh.”
“It’s not bad, I promise.”
“Go on then.”
He crouched down next to the chair and let Abel wrap his tiny hand around one of his fingers. “I was wonderin’ if you’d be his godmother.” 
You froze. You were at a loss for words. “Really?”
“There’s nobody else I’d trust to take care of him,” He said. “But you gotta promise that you’re sticking around this time.”
You leaned over and kissed Jax’s forehead. “I promise, Jackson. I promise.”

-

By the time you got back to the Clubhouse, the party was already in full swing. You could hear the music from outside and it sounded like Gemma had invited every single person that had ever spoken two words to you. When you and Jax stepped in, the whole room erupted into cheers; there was a huge banner strung above the bar that looked like it had been made by Tig which read ‘Welcome Home Y/N’ in big, bold letters and you’d barely taken three steps when Juice pressed a drink into your hand. Clay put an arm around your waist and led you further into the crowd and you consequently spent the next hour and a half catching up with people you hadn’t seen since you left Charming. 

Luann had cornered you and was telling you all about her business, trying to tempt you into starring in one of her movies. You couldn’t quite believe that she was trying this with you, but she insisted that you had the perfect body and face for it. When Happy came over and offered to get you another drink, you practically fell into his arms in an attempt to get away from her. 

“Thanks for rescuing me, Happ.”
“Looked like you needed it.”
“You have no idea.” He unscrewed a beer for you and then got one for himself. “Still with Tacoma?”
“For now. Thinking of going Nomad.”
“No shit?”
“Ma’s real sick, I need to be closer to her just in case, you know?”
“Sorry, Happ,” You rested your head on his shoulder. You’d always gotten along well with Happy, even though he’d only just patched in when you left. “You know Clay will always have a seat for you at his table.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And there’ll always be a seat at mine for you too, if you ever wanna talk.”
He smiled. “Thanks, Y/N. It’s good to have you back.”

Happy left you at the bar and you downed your beer; you were in need of some liquid courage tonight. Tara had just walked in and was talking to Jax in the corner, so you didn’t want to bother them. Opie was nowhere to be seen, so you went and sat on one of the leather couches with Bobby, Tig and Chibs. 

Tig pulled you into his lap. “Y/N! Where’ve you been, darlin’?” 
“Got cornered by Luann. She told me I have the perfect face for porn.”
Bobby and Tig burst out laughing. “If ye ask me, that’d be a waste,” Chibs said. 
“Don’t tell Clay she said that,” Bobby chuckled. “He’d have Luann’s head.”
“She’s not wrong, though.”
You smacked Tig around the back of the head. “Fuck you, Tigger.” 
Chibs also smacked Tig, but significantly harder. “Yeah, that’s no way to talk to a lady,” He growled.
You flushed. “Thanks, Chibsy.”

-

Gemma and Clay were sitting at the bar, watching you with Tig, Bobby and Chibs. As happy as she was that you were home, Gemma didn’t believe for a second that you’d come back to Charming because you were homesick. She knew you too well and as soon as she’d seen you sitting at the bar, three whiskeys deep at two in the afternoon, she knew that something wasn’t right. When she’d told Clay, he’d agreed. You’d sounded off on the phone the last few times he’d checked in and he’d known that it would only be a matter of time before you showed up.

“What do you think happened?” Gemma asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out.”
“If she’s gonna tell anyone, it’ll be Opie.”
Clay narrowed his eyes when Tig pulled you into his lap. “Yeah.”
“Whatever it is, I’m glad she’s home.”
Clay kissed his wife’s cheek. “Me too, baby. Me too.”

They were right of course, it wasn’t just homesickness that had sent you back to the worn streets of Charming, although that was part of it. Your time in Colorado had, for the most part, been an amazing and transformational experience, but the last couple of years had thrown you some unexpected curveballs which had ultimately sent you packing. In time, you’d come clean about all of this with your family, but tonight you were just more than happy to be home.

-

End of part one