SINISTER KID.

It had been a long night already and her shift had only started an hour ago. She hated night shifts but probably hated morning shifts even more. This was her fourth shift in a row and she had another one the following night. She could almost hear her mom yelling at her to take better care of herself. “Katie, new patient in bed 3 once you’re finished with bed 6,” she could hear from outside of the room and she exhaled an inaudible yet heavy sigh. “Okay Miss Mulligan, please remember to take these twice a day, otherwise we will be having that lunch date,” she said with a smile as she handed discharge papers and prescriptions over to the older woman, wishing her a goodnight and then grabbing the new chart waiting for her. Her eyebrow rose as she recognized the name and knocked on the door before entering, “5 times in 2 weeks, do you like our ER that much?” she asked with a polite smile as she leveled hazel hues on the patient sitting in the bed. She grabbed some hand sanitizer and rubbed her hands together before turning to face them again, “what brings you here again?”

LOMK SPECIFIC ASK MEME 

2 -- WHAT TRAITS OR TALENTS DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE THAT WOULD MAKE THEM A GOOD/BAD MEMBER OF THE MC? 

Andy’s loyal to a fault, and has a knack for observation and problem solving. The latter specifically, in addition to the fact that he’s a decently quiet person, has made him valuable to the club when it comes to getting information. It’s benefited him when it comes to working as a Fixer, as well. 

7 --  YOU’RE GOING TO NOLA FOR A WEEKEND OF FUN, WHO ARE YOU TAKING? 

Rowan and Benny. Any time the three of them can get away is a good time in Andy’s book.

26 -- WHAT IS A PLOT THAT YOU’D LIKE TO DO BUT HAVEN’T EXPLORED YET? 

“… this gruesome scene outside a popular night club in Olympus, Louisiana just one week ago. Authorities are still searching for information on the case, though no suspects have currently been taken into custody. If you have any–”

Damian’s glass hits the countertop harder than he intends. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself, tapping his palm against the polished surface to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey? Excuse me!” When the man makes it to the far end of the bar he takes Damian’s glass and replaces it without a word. “Thanks man, but, hang on,” he says as the young man turns away.

“Can we not with this shit?” he asks, gesturing up to the television mounted above the bar. “There’s gotta be some college football on somewhere right?” Its’s been about a week since Kane was killed and still, the gruesome murder still made the rounds on the afternoon news every day. And every time he had to listen to them talk about having no leads? It was impossible not to roll his eyes. Who else would have done… all of that?

He rakes his fries through the last bit of ketchup clinging to the bottom of the plastic cup before pushing his nearly empty plate away from him. “How many times do they think people need to see that?” He says to the person sitting next to him. “I mean… hell, they expect someone to just call up and solve it for them?”

He’s got the afternoon to himself -- With Benny at the hospital daycare while Rowan works, he’s left to his own devices. It doesn’t take long for him to find himself in a bar, second drink in hand far too quickly. He tells himself it’s not an issue -- He’s off for the day, doesn’t have to worry about keeping an eye on his son. It’s concerning to know he finds a certain amount of relaxation that comes with being alone in a bar. At least, it’s relaxing until a familiar voice fills his ears, an instinctive eye roll following. Damian hadn’t actually done anything worthy of hating, but it didn’t change the fact that he found the other man annoying. A brow arches at his question, assuming the man would have been celebrating Kane’s death, rather than push back against it. He turns, liquor courage making him less prone to minding his own business -- “You’re makin’ it sound like it’s a bad thing.” Andy begins, narrowing his eyes as Damian speaks. “Bastard got what was comin’ to him if you ask me.” He ends with, another large gulp of his drink following as he holds eye contact with the other man -- Almost daring him to push back.

His brother’s voice was a normalcy that Jeremiah desperately needed at the moment. God if there was anything he could count on being unmoving in his life it was Andy and Jackson, and in moments like this, Jeremiah was glad of that knowledge. “It is, apparently,” the older Thane mused, sipping more of his beer. Sighing heavily, Jer set his beer bottle down and rubbed his chin. “She’s…stable. I talked to Martin, he’s goin’ to keep an eye on the family in case it was just the beginning; I’m guessing Hart’s staying with her at the hospital. From what I heard from the EMT that answered the call about her she looked real fuckin bad.” Huffing a little bit, Jeremiah looked at his brother. “Hart thinks it was the agent she was warming up to. Only other answer I can think of besides that is someone getting back at the club, but why would they choose a prospect rather than a full patch?” The situation was fucked, and if it was leaning towards the ATF angle, then that’s a whole nother can of worms that had to be opened. But, suddenly filled with the urge for some happy news, Jer nudged his brother. “Benny like Thanksgiving then?”

Andy sips his beer as Jeremiah gives him the lowdown, giving him the full update. If there’s anything he can count on his brother for -- It’s keeping him in the loop. “Sounded real fuckin’ bad from what I heard from Rowan.” He nods, sighing as he spoke. “S’good she’s got her brothers there, sound like they’ll be good twenty four hour surveillance.” It’s partially a joke, something to make an attempt at lightening the mood. They’re constantly faced with these kinds of things, left to deal with one crisis after another -- Andy’s trying not to let himself drown in it again. It’s brought down quickly again as his brother brings up who could be responsible. Andy’s mind can’t help but turn to the people who attacked both his wife and Reina, terrified whoever was responsible for those was inching their way to the club. At the mention of the ATF Agent they had Sutton seduce, his eyes narrow. “Guy has a gun and a badge, don’t you think beatin’ up women and leavin’ them in alleyways would be a bit far? Those guys got more eyes on us than... Well, they do on us.” He finds himself say. He’s known his share of dirty cops, but these ATF fuckers seem to be the real deal. “I’unno what the gain from it is, but I don’t know if I wanna find out.” Andy admits, pausing to take a large gulp of his beer. Something new, something terrible is coming -- He can feel it. There’s a pause, then a mention of his son, enough to pull a smirk from Andy. “Kid sure loves the holidays. He stuffed his face with mashed potatoes ‘til he was sick.” There’s a chuckle that follows, before adding: “Keeps askin for ‘tato’. Norah enjoy herself?”

This holiday weekend had taken a turn. Everything was going well for the Primordials ever since the death of Kane Seifer, and for a second Jeremiah had the foolish thought that he could relax. That maybe the ATF would be too distracted to continue looking into his family and his club. And with Sutton dropping information about the Trojans to the ATF agent she had been schmoozing, Jeremiah was feeling even better going into Thanksgiving dinner. He allowed himself a few hours to relax and just enjoy time with his family that wasn’t tinged in blood. 

And then he got the call from Maddox that Sutton was nowhere to be found, and had Jeremiah seen her? He hadn’t, and he reported as such, but promised to keep an eye out. Turns out he didn’t have to, because a few hours later he got a message from someone in the hospital. One of your prospects just came in. After he got an idea of what the fuck happened, Jer needed a fucking drink. He knew that retaliation was most likely on the brains of Chambers’ closest friends in the club, so he’d have to figure out something to do. But for now, he stared at the TV playing highlights from that afternoons football games, combined with clips of Black Friday crowds. Swirling his glass in front of him, he felt rather than heard someone approach him. Downing his drink, Jeremiah turned to the new comer, flashing them a tight lipped. “Some fucked up shit happening this holiday huh?” 

Truthfully, with Kane six feet under -- Figuratively, at least -- Andy had naively assumed they would be on an upswing. Things had calmed down in town, a certain stillness settled over for a moment during the week of the holidays, just to have them meet yet another disaster at their feet. Sutton Chambers is in the hospital, beaten and bruised and bloody -- Andy doesn’t know the extent of what happened, but he can paint a clear enough picture. It’s fair to assume that this is club related, that this is some sort of payback for Kane, even if she lived to tell the tale. The details were foggy, but he knew there was going to be a club meeting in the near future, but for now -- He’d enjoy a drink with his brother. God knows he could use one. He’d been careful to keep sober the last few weeks, trying to rest his leg and keep a clear head in case another left turn found him and his family. One couldn’t hurt... He arches a brow as Jeremiah speaks, taking another sip of his beer before responding. “S’too much to ask to have a quiet night.” Andy points out bitterly, exhausted with the back and forth. Not knowing who is going to be attacked, killed, or taken from them next is enough to keep him up at night, with out the addition of his own personal demons to make it worse.  “How’s Chambers holdin’ up?” Andy finds himself ask.

The frown on her lips pulls down deeper when Andy hunches forward, his voice cracks and she watches his hands press against his face. Andy isn’t okay and that becomes even more apparent as she feels him start to crack and fall apart under her hand, knowing she’ll have to pick the pieces back up and try and piece the jagged edges back together over the rest of the night. Sometimes she thinks he’s more duct tape and super glue and safety pin than Andy, he’s been chipped away at so much over the years. For now, the hand on his back moves up and down the length of his spine slowly while she waits for him as he lets everything out, resisting the urge to interrupt him right away with words of reassurance and comfort. She’s seen Andy get emotional thousands of times over their relationship, but to see him actually cry like this? She can remember each instance vividly, they happen so few and far between. “I don’t know,” she answers honestly when he asks what he is supposed to do, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously for a second. “But you don’t need to figure it out yourself. I’ve got you; let me help you.” Her voice is soft when she reassures him, repeating back words she’s said to him what feels like thousands of times. 

“Hey,” her tone takes on a slightly sharper edge to it, the hand in his hair moving to rest against the side of his jaw softly to keep him from looking away from her again. “Saving you was not a mistake.” She’s not sure if he had meant it the way the words came out but she knows Andy’s self-worth has been bent and twisted and splintered every which way and so even the possibility that he did mean it had her heart cracking in her chest. “You know what a wreck your Ma’d be if she hadn’t saved you? Or Ollie? What it’d do to me?” There had been a brief moment during the whole thing, before she got to the club house when a new prospect who sounded half on the verge of a breakdown had told her to get there fast in a shakey voice that she thought she would be walking into something even worse than she was, where she had tried to prepare herself to finding his dead body on the club house floor. “I don’t even wanna think about that.” Her lips purse together for a beat, unsure of what exactly he needs from her right now. She doesn’t have a solution for all of this — as much as she wishes there was some kind of magic wand or something she could wave to make it all fix itself and go away, she can’t. “C’mere, baby,” she sighs out quietly, hand moving to the back of his neck to gently pull him down so his head can sit on her shoulder, free arm moving to wrap around his middle. 

A moment passes and Rowan repeats Andy’s words in her head. There’s an odd feeling that comes over her at them ‘she’s gonna go to prison ‘cause of me’ because yeah, technically she kind of is. Rowan didn’t think Lettie going on was the right call — her stomach had been in knots about it from the minute she heard that she was going to be the driver, but she knew she couldn’t put a stop to it. While she knew if she asked him to, Andy probably would have rescinded his offer of letting her in on it, she also knew that might not have been the right choice either. The two of them have a whole other side to them that she will never fully understand, no matter how much she would like to. The chaos that comes from stuff like this is something the two of them need, something that somehow keeps them who they are — and that’s not something that is ever going to change. The whole situation is frustrating because it somehow feels inevitable and preventable all at once; she knows even if Lettie hadn’t gone on that job, she’d be on one eventually. “Lettie asked to come on that job with you,” she reminds him quietly, a hand moving to smooth through his hair gently. “We all know the risks that come with that. She’s a big girl now, even if we don’t always see her that way, and this was her choice too. It isn’t all on you.” The list of things that can go wrong on a job is about a million bullet points long, it’s an unspoken truth Rowan keeps tucked in the back of her mind every time she kisses Andy goodbye and tells him to come home in one piece.  “We don’t know how this is gonna go yet,” she reminds him, trying to keep some hope alive that Lettie isn’t going to get a life sentence and rot away behind bars for the role she played in that night.

The last time he’d gotten this emotional had easily been back in June -- The memory is clear, the feeling that hits him now is similar to the one he’d felt in that hospital waiting room while Rowan was being operated on. It’s like he’s drowning, and despite his best efforts to get back to the surface, it keeps moving further and further away. That day had been a different sort of nightmare -- One that included his wife on an operating table, the vivid memory of her laying on the clubhouse floor covered in blood is still something that haunts him months later. A similar height of emotion finds him like it did that day, a breaking point having been reached -- One that would either send him down the same spiral that sent him to prison, or leave him a mess on the bathroom floor. Apparently tonight, it was the latter. I’ve got you, let me help you. Her voice is smooth like silk, calming him with just a few short words. Christ, why was he like this? There’s a churn in his stomach at the realization of all this, that momentary pause of clarity where he realizes what’s happening -- He’s sobbing on the bathroom floor, with a barely healed gun shot wound and a gnarly bruise about to form below it. When did he get to this point? This feeling comes each time he lets himself break down like this, though it had been more often when he was a child than in his adult years. It’s a mixture of shame, with the voice in the back of his head (one that will surely always sound like his father) letting him now that he’s a coward, a pussy; He’s weak. It’s hard not to believe it in this moment, but it doesn’t take long for Rowan to capture his attention. 

The hand against his jaw is cool against his warm cheeks, instinctively he leans into it. It’s comforting, even though she can’t save him from his demons with soft embraces and kind words -- But he’s willing to try, to let her reach her hand into the water and do her damnedest to pull him back to shore. It had been the heat of the moment where he’d revealed that thought -- Calling Lettie’s choice to save him a mistake. Even if it still held a cruel truth, one he’d never admit to anyone, let alone his wife. It’s not that he wants to die, but he knows that if it had been his body found by the police, they wouldn’t be in this mess. But then again, the storm she’d be facing would be something straight out of a nightmare, and he knows he could never put her through that kind of heartache again. It had been a thought that found him in the dark hours of the night, when pillow talk and a muted late night TV show were done and they should be asleep. It passes just as quickly, but finds him again as he finds himself break down. “I’m sorry.” He settles with after a moment, still feeling the wetness against his cheeks, his voice soft as he speaks. His eyes don’t leave hers, his brief apology genuine. He’s not sure what else to say, so he sticks with those two words, knowing it’s the best he can give. His emotions are a mess, thoughts even worse off -- She doesn’t need to hear every terrible thing that’s passed through. 

Andy doesn’t try to resist when Rowan speaks, pulling him to her. He sighs, slumping into a comfortable position as she wraps her arms around him. Instinctively, he moves closer, finding his nose pressed against the place where her jaw and neck meet, eyes falling shut. He’s still crying but he barely notices at this point -- There’s no point in trying to fight it now. They settle into a momentary silence, hand moving to wipe at his cheeks and rub his eyes. Rowan’s arms keep him at bay, giving himself a moment to let her be the one to hold him up. Lettie asked to come on that job with you. She’s right -- It had been Lettie’s idea in the beginning, and he understood why she needed it, but in the end, he was the one who gave her the okay. Rowan was right -- Lettie wasn’t an eight year old hanging out the auto shop. She was a grown adult, and it had been her choice. But even then -- It still left Andy feeling guilty, responsible; Now she was stuck in a mess he made. This job would have gone wrong with or without her driving the car -- The man they were going after clearly came back to Louisiana knowing that the man who ran him out of the state would surely come back if he did. Andy hadn’t accounted for that, hadn’t accounted for the man to come with a gun, ready to shoot the first person who showed up at the motel room door. He feels responsible, knowing that even if he’s in the clear legally, Lettie is in deep. “I --” He tries to begin, to protest, to say something, but all that comes out is: “I don’t know what to do.” It’s the truth, and probably the only time he’ll admit to it. Rowan’s the only person he trusts to be this vulnerable with. Anyone else? He’ll start coming up with a million and one options. We don’t know how this is gonna go yet. “We’ve been through this before, Rowan. We know exactly how it’s gonna go.” He finds himself admit with a sigh, knowing that just because she hasn’t been sentenced doesn’t mean it will be any different than his own trial. A hand moves to wipe at his face again, ignoring the way his eyes burn and leg throbs. “We gotta start preparing for the worst.”

It was the way Andy looked at him. Burrowing under his skin like an ostrich in the sand, disrupting everything inside the ginger, Ryder desperately wanted to claw the feeling away. But he’s been here before, and no matter how much he scratched the itch never went away. He wanted to shake Andy, to scream would I lie to you and have the look wash off the Primordial’s face before he laughed and promised he was just messing around. However, Ryder wasn’t dumb enough to consider that notion for longer than a fleeting moment. Andy wouldn’t believe him even if he had been telling the truth. Everything was too different, he let the rift between them get too big. But he needed that look off his face. Ryder never wanted to see that look on Andy’s face again. If he blinked he wasn’t facing Andy in a cell anymore, but was standing in the middle of a study in Georgia, a heavy wooden desk being a lackluster guard. Raising an eyebrow at Andy, trying to shove down the nausea in his throat and replace it with a comeback. Anything. All he could come up with was a desperate snort and a “no one ever does, do they?” Before he stares at the door to the cell, willing the door to open. He wanted to run. Glancing at Andy one more time for as long as he could handle - only a moment - Ryder heaved another sigh. All the officers were out of ear shot, huddling over what the Trojan could only assume was a conspiracy board. Both club emblems most likely in the dead center. “Didn’t say shit. I dunno what the fuck happened but even if I did. I’m not about to rat.”         

In that moment, Andy wished he could read Ryder’s mind. He used to be able to come close, able to read the younger man easily, know what he’s thinking about by the look on his face. He’d like to be optimistic, to believe they’re not too far gone -- But Andy knows that’s just wishful thinking. It’s naive to believe either of them are anything close to the people they were prior to Andy’s prison sentence, prior to the split. They both made their beds, and despite whatever distress he feels, he has to accept that. Ryder’s not the same Prospect he was as a kid -- Hell, he’s nothing close to a kid anymore, either. “Guess not.” Andy replies easily, arms crossed over his chest as he slouches in his spot despite the ache it’s causing his back from sitting on the cement of the holding cell bench. The answer is cryptic, but Andy keeps his poker face -- Apparently, that was enough to get Ryder to stop trying to incite a cage match between them. At the mention of ratting, however, his eyes narrow and brows furrow. “You rattin’ isn’t my problem.” It’s harsh, but it’s the truth -- He has to establish the boundary between them, even it’ll have him losing sleep after.  

“I wish,” Jackson said in a truly wistful tone. He would have loved to frame that snapshot, a lovely little reminder of all the fun he’d had getting his hands dirty with Kane and his brothers. Though…sadly Andy had needed to sit out of the ‘dirty work’ a bit with all the chatter around his record and the recent murder that had put Lettie in jail. But unfortunately…film would have been far too risky when it came to incriminating evidence. “Honestly we should have just mounted Kane on the wall of the Club. Hung some lights around his head. made him up all festive.” The idea was vastly amusing to him. Jackson gave an approving nod when it came to their wives though, knowing that Andy must be just as relieved to be rid of Kane when it came to keeping their Old Ladys safe and out of the man’s way. “I’m sure Reina will too.” Though…she still seemed jumpy at times after the breakin. He wouldn’t be saying that to Andy, though. 

Andy can’t help the bark of laughter that comes with the suggestion, his shoulder bumping with his brothers. “Would’a been a hell of a decoration.” He agrees, taking another drag of his cigarette. He could picture it now -- Mounted just between all of their framed mugshots and posters. Maybe they should have at least gotten a picture. “Put a Santa hat on him, go the whole nine.” He suggests with another laugh, knowing as funny as the mental image is -- Even standing near the crime scene, despite being far enough away to avoid being seen, could come with a cost. He’d know vague details about Reina’s interactions with Kane -- Most coming third hand from his wife -- but it’d been enough to paint a picture. That, added in with all the damage Kane’s done to the club, he’s sure his sister was over the moon once Jackson told her the news. Andy’s surprised they haven’t organized a proper night out to celebrate yet; Part of him wonders once he shows up to the auto shop if everyone will be toasting. There’s a pause, nodding as his brother speaks.. “What do you think’s comin’ next?” He finds himself ask, curious to hear his brother’s thoughts. 

The news of what had happened to Kane spread fast. After all, this was a small town that loved to talk. As soon as Desmond had heard rumor of what had happened he’d gone straight to the Dive, wanting to see for himself what had been wrought. He’d only just managed to catch the tail end of the clean up, though the screams of a dead man were still playing through the air. In this instance…it was one of the times Desmond actually approved of something the Club had done. Kane was a piece of shit, and a stain on society— and hopefully…Lettie might also be safer with the passing of him. Still…the way in which his death had been enacted was unnecessarily dramatic. He’d been walking back from the scene when he heard Andy’s voice, and turned towards the sound of it. He hadn’t seen the man since they’d both been at the station when Lettie was taken in. But he hadn’t gotten to have words with him then, too preoccupied with the going ons of the arrest and trying to get his dad to pull some strings for Lettie. “The first good thing that’s happened between the gangs in months,” he mumbled in Andy’s general direction. It was, after all, a good thing that Kane was gone.

Truthfully, the last person Andy was interested in running into with Desmond Grayson. He understood that the other man was important to Lettie, and Lettie was important to Andy -- So he should try, but the kid was a punk. Not to mention, he surely knew all the gory details of Andy and Lettie’s botched job. Andy didn’t want to hear his opinion, but he was flying too high to care much about it right now. Instead, he takes another drag of his cigarette watching the scene unfolding in front of him. The sound of Desmond’s voice pulls Andy’s attention, a brow arching as he spoke. It was surprising to hear the other man approve of anything club related felt worthy of suspicious, given his history of being openly against their presence in town -- And Andy’s first conversation with him, where he’d threatened lighting the man on fire if he hadn’t backed off snooping around. His eyes narrow for a moment, taking another drag of his cigarette before actually speaking. “Guess so.” Andy settles with, before adding: “What are you doin’ here?”

Normally she’d resent Andrew implying she’s a bitch (even though it’s painfully and obviously very true), but today Reina just laughs as she takes a cigarette from his pack and hands it back, her good mood allowing her to recognize the joke for what it is. “There’s a difference?” Her smile drops to a scowl when he comments on the fact that she’s actually in good spirits for once, although it’s mostly just for show. “I’m always fucking chipper, Andrew.” Reina knows how thrilled Rowan had been to hear Kane finally got what was coming for him — the text messages the two had exchanged the night before had been enough of an indication, although at the time she hadn’t known why her sister was so acting so upbeat. As soon as Reina was let in on the secret, it all made sense. “She and I both.” After rifling through her bag for a lighter and lighting her cigarette, Reina stands back beside her brother to watch the scene unfold in front of them for a beat before she speaks again. “How many of them do you think got sick when they saw it? I’m guessing at least two.”

He’s sure to anyone around them witnessing this conversation, seeing both of them in such high spirits is probably a bit unsettling. Andy couldn’t blame them -- Any scenario that involves the two of them making jokes, and Reina actually smiling means there’s a disaster clean up elsewhere. In this case, it was at the end of the block and the police were cleaning the crime scene at the Dive. “You tell me,” he returns with a chuckle, shoving his pack of cigarettes back in his pocket. He watches as she picks through her bag for a lighter, taking another drag of his own cigarette before returning his attention the Dive down the road. It’s a satisfying sight, watching the chaos unfold as they enjoy a smoke break. He can only imagine Reina had been jumping up and down with joy the second she found out the news -- Or, well, her version of that. God knows Rowan was quick to jump his bones when he got home, he tried to not think of Jackson and Reina doing the same. There’s a chuckle that comes with her question, a smirk at his lips. “Hope it was five.” He returns, taking another drag. “S’like watchin’ chickens run around with their heads cut off.” 

She knows that whatever moral dilemma she is having is probably stupid, she knows that. She wouldn’t go back and change the way things went, either, reiterating the fact to herself that she’d kill to keep Benny alive a thousand times over if it came down to it. But, the fact remains that taking a life doesn’t come quite as easy for her as it does for the rest of their family —- she’s practically dedicated her life to the exact opposite. Worked her fucking ass off to be able to save lives and so taking one, even if it is for the right reasons, is a hard pill to swallow. It’s easier now though, laying in bed with Andy and talking it out, his hand pushing through her hair bringing a sense of calm over her, finally. You’re safe. She knows that the words are probably supposed to be reassuring and in a way they are, but the fact remains that they still don’t know who had attacked them tonight, Kane is still out there being completely fucking unhinged, the ATF is still breathing down their necks. “For now.” The words slip out before she can stop them, lips pursing together momentarily. They’re all safe for now. For once it seems like fate had been on their side because all three of them — four if you count Lettie, and Rowan always does – had manged to come out of things relatively unscathed. But that never seems to last with them, especially when they’re now fighting an unknown threat. So she can’t help the pessimism that makes itself known, reminding her that while tonight they all get to rest easy… tomorrow might be a different story. 

 Rowan knows coming to accept Benny as their son rather than their nephew was a harder process for Andy. While they both had their guilt over the death of Sylvia and what that meant for the three of them, Rowan had been able to talk hers out and remind herself that Sylvia would have wanted them to love him as much as they do, that she would’ve wanted them to be a family. Andy had taken a little longer to get there though, and she doesn’t blame him for that — his views on family in general aren’t exactly crystal clear, he hadn’t grown up in an environment that was warm or loving, with the exception of his mom, and when they were older he had watched her family throw her to the side. Her arm moves to wrap around his middle, fingers trailing up and down his sides slowly as he speaks. A quiet sound leaves her lips, sounding somewhere between a laugh and a scoff when he mentions Benny’s attitude. “You love his attitude — and mine too,” she counters with a raise of her eyebrows. Who would have thought? She lets her head dip again to press a kiss against his shoulder. “I wouldn’t.” She answers him honestly. If someone told her a year ago that this was what her life was going to be like today, she never would have believed them. “I’d always hoped it was gonna be you and me in the end,” she starts off quietly, her voice taking on a soft honesty. Their divorce is still a sore subject for her, but she hopes by now he knows it wasn’t due to any lack of love. Somewhere in the back of her mind and in the corners of her heart, she’d always been holding out hope that someway, somehow they would find their way back to one another no matter how unlikely that had looked. “Just always thought that’d be the end of it, you know? I never… I didn’t see this in the cards for us.” Her hand stills momentarily, taking a second to feel his chest rise and fall with his breathing again, just another brief reminder that this is all real. 

A short snort of laughter leaves her at his comment, eyes rolling though they remain full of affection for her husband. “Technically I’ve got an MD. You should know that, you made enough noise at my graduation.” Not to mention he had paid for it, but she doesn’t bring that up. “Think it’s served us pretty well over the years.” Tonight it had certainly paid off. There have been many times over the years she’s been grateful for her education and skill set, more than happy to help out her family and the club when they need it — but tonight she’s especially grateful. The mental image of Andy being dumped on the front steps of the hospital while a car screeches away plays behind her eyes before she can stop it, but she blinks it away quickly, trying to stay in the somewhat light moment they’ve found. She frowns when he starts coughing through his laugh, her hand moving back to his chest to move in slow circles until his cough subsides and she sneaks a peak at the bruises around his throat. They look mostly superficial, she doesn’t think anything got crushed or damaged and in a week his voice’ll be back to normal, but it’s definitely going to be painful for the next few days. “You’re so fuckin’ impatient,” she tells him with a shake of her head. “Didn’t have the matchin’ scars til tonight, easy street starts tomorrow. Don’t jinx us.” 

He knows what’s going to happen next -- They’ve been through it before, only with a different crime scene left behind and her father knocking on their front door with a warrant. It’s difficult not to think of that night, that the anniversary of it was only a few weeks away. He tries not to let himself go back to that night, back to the things that led up to it -- The way he downed a bottle of liquor while driving to the job in question, the freight train of emotions that came out of him the second his bat was in his hand, mourning the loss of their daughter in a more destructive manner. He tries not to think of Rowan at home that night, curled up in their bed staring at the wall, over come with Post-Partum Depression and grief. This is nothing like that, he tries to tell himself. They’re in a vastly different place compared to eight years ago, no longer holding on to broken seams and strings -- They’re stronger than they’ve ever been, and that has to count for something. Whatever disaster meets them in the morning will be just another storm for them to weather with their hands intertwined. For now. It’s true, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. For now, she’s safe in his arms and they’re tucked away in their little corner of the universe. He sighs, nodding as she speaks. “For now has to be good enough.” He finds himself reply in a soft voice, his cheek leaned against the top of her head. “We can figured out what to do in the morning.” Andy settles with, trying not to think of the nightmare that’ll come once the sun rises. All cops, crime scenes and deaths aside -- Trying to get him up and on his feet is going to be a trial enough. His eyes watch as her finger tips move up and down his side, loving the way her warm fingers cause goosebumps against his cold skin. It’s comforting, just as it’s always been. Even with the sharp pain that crawls up his leg each time he moves it slightly. 

It’s refreshing to accept Benny as their son. Andy sees him as such, but saying it out loud -- That’s a different battle on their own. As far as he’s concerned, he’s been theirs from the moment they signed the adoption papers. Sylvia will always live on in memory, and he’s never going to hide that from Benny -- But as far as Andy is concerned, he is Rowan and his son, and nothing can change that. It was only a matter of time before the words came out and he let himself have this -- Even if there will inevitably be a certain amount of guilt that comes with it. For now, at least, he’ll enjoy this moment, enjoy that Rowan is here with him in it. “Can’t say I mind it,” he replies with a smirk, wishing he could turn to the side and kiss her properly, but knows if he tries it’ll move his leg and they’ll be back to square one. Instead, he settles with what he can reach -- Kissing her forehead. They haven’t really talked about this kind of thing -- Having a family, what Maddie’s death meant for their future. Everything fell apart and for a while, that was that. He’d always hoped they’d end up raising a family together, but knew realistically that it was probably out of the realm of possibility. And then along came Benny. “S’always gonna be you, baby.” He’s repeated the words to her on numerous occasions, but never strays away from a chance. There’s a pause, before he answers her. He’d been in the same boat -- Andy can still remember the conversation vividly. We want four. They’re supposed to have a four kids and two dogs and one big backyard for them all to play in by now. “I did, too. I’m just glad fate had a different plan.” He finds himself admit, trying not to think of the fact that Sylvia had to die for them to get the chance to be parents. “Dunno how we’re gonna get three more, though.” He finds himself add in hopes of lightening the mood, mostly for his own sake. 

The memory of her graduation, and just how incredibly loud he was at the ceremony brings a smile to his lips. “I can think’a couple times it came in handy, I won’t lie.” Andy teases, knowing very well that if she hadn’t chosen the career she had, they would have been in far too many binds in the past -- Not to mention he probably would have been dropped at the ER’s front doors tonight than rushed to the clubhouse. He owes her more than he can say, more than anything he can try to make up for -- He would be dead without her, point blank. Andy would have bled out on the front steps of an ER if it hadn’t been for her steady hands and careful work. He tries to ignore the way his throat burns, trying to silently remind himself that he’ll be recovered from the bruises and sore throat in a week or so. That’s the simple part of this all -- He can do bruises, that’s far too familiar territory. “You just caught on to that?” He jokes, unable to help himself from letting out another chuckle, before another cough follows. “I think we gotta come up with our own street, or something. Hit up Sesame. I know Benny likes that one.” 

Narrowing her eyes at Andy for a moment she turned to follow his sight line. But they were too far away for them to see anything more than the police officers standing at the outskirts. Sutton knew that she most likely wouldn’t get the full details - not only was she a prospect, but they were standing out in the open, with police officers all over the place - but she had to try. The only thing she hated of this whole prospect process was not being in the know. Andy was taking his sweet time with his information, but Sutton would be lying if she said that she wasn’t hanging onto his every word. This shit was going to be good. And she absolutely wasn’t disappointed. The mechanic could feel  her eyes bulging out as she hissed. “Kane’s dead?!” Glancing around to make sure no one was near enough to hear she took a step closer to the Sargent at Arms and asked. “How did it happen?” Then after a moment, a more important question. “Should we expect retaliation?”

Prospects didn’t get a say, didn’t get a vote -- Sutton was out of the loop and while Andy would be happy to recount the night in detail to her, this was not the time nor place for it. Though, he’s certainly keeping things more vague than they need to be. At this point, you ask anyone what happened and they’ll tell you the news. Word travels fast in small towns, and Olympus is no exception to that. As she put two and two together, Andy gives a warning look -- It’s about to be common knowledge, but the last thing they need is someone from the MC being the one to spread it. “Lucky guess.” He settles with, taking another drag. Andy shrugs a shoulder at the mention of how it went down, “Dunno,” he lies, knowing that even if there wasn’t anyone around them -- You never know who’s watching. “Fucker got what was comin’ to him, if you ask me.” Andy settles with, taking another drag before dropping his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out with the heel of his boot. “If they can get their wits ‘bout ‘em, I’m sure they’ll come knocking soon.” 

He’d never decline a cigarette, “Light?” He asked, as he took a cigarette. “Surprisingly, that’s been pretty close to happening before and it didn’t happen here,” He had to be careful, people could just cut his dick off if he wasn’t careful and paying attention. That was not something he wanted to happen, “I’ve been to a few of those, it just probably ain’t the same,” He lived for the unknown of what would happen to him if he ever came into contact with an enemy. It was hot pretty much. “Who are we gonna burn next?”

Wordlessly, Andy fishes around in his pocket for a lighter before tossing it James’ way. Taking another drag, he lets out a chuckle as his friend speaks. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” He gives him a pointed look and a once over, sure the statements bound to come with a few entertaining stories. “Somethin’ ‘bout being in enemy territory gets you off? S’fucked up, Flores.” He teases, narrowing his eyes at him as he speaks. His tone feigns faux disgust, but the smirk at his lips gives him away. “There’s no chance they’ll let you get’a hand job in the parking lot, let alone get through the door.” He points out, both a joke and a fair warning. His brow arches at the next question, shrugging a shoulder. “Depends on what happens next. Wouldn’t mind seein’ another one’a them on a stake out there, though.”

Jackson, too, was if much better spirits than usual. This success was a big one, and he was still reveling in it. “No, not the strangest thing after seeing something like Kane fucking Siefer’s head on a stake and still screaming,” he said with a wide, almost boyish grin. The smile turns into more a telling smirk at Andy’s question, not above hinting at the fun he and his wife had last night. “You could say that.” But beside the less pure activities of the night before, he knew Reina was relieved to have that man removed from the Earth, just as Rowan most likely was. “Was Rowan happy?” It’s a stupid question. Of course, she’d be pleased that she didn’t have to look over her shoulder, but it was still worth asking.

Andy knew this celebration wouldn’t last as long as he hoped, but he wasn’t about to let himself skip out on this moment -- This was a victory, a win, there was no denying it. “Shoulda gotten a better picture’a it.” He suggests, mirroring the same smile his brother has as he takes another drag of his cigarette. “Could’a used it as a club Christmas card or somethin’. Would have been one for the books.” Andy can’t help but laugh lightly at his own joke, surprised they hadn’t framed a picture and hung it up in the clubhouse. Maybe once the ATF is gone. He arches a brow, nodding as his brother answers the question. Andy knows exactly what it means -- And he has no interest in asking for details. Though, admittedly, he’s curious what it means in terms of their divorce -- And if it’d have any lasting effect. He’s kept his nose out of that mess, mostly because the two are so back and forth he can’t keep up, and he’s not in a position with either to say Hey, how’s your marriage? He gets it, though -- He and Rowan have been through plenty of complications, especially since his release from prison. “Over the fuckin’ moon.” He answers with a smirk of his own, letting out a chuckle. He takes another drag of his cigarette, There’s a pause, before he finds himself add, on a slightly more serious note: “I’ve got a feeling she’ll sleep better knowin’ he’s six feet under.” 

The refusal that she gets isn’t surprising, even if it is disappointing. In the two decades that they have been together, they have come a long way in how vulnerable Andy is going to be in front of her but that hasn’t been without it’s struggles. Rowan can remember being sixteen and having to practically beg him to let her see even a glimpse of that side of him, wanting to be there for him in the same ways that he had always been there for her. Since then there have been more than enough nights where he has let his guard done, settled into her side and tucked his head into the space where her neck and shoulder meet and let himself have a chance to just be human and feel something, confided in her about his worries and fears and whatever else is going through his head. It hadn’t been easy to get to that point and it still isn’t without it’s bumps in the road – like tonight, evidently – but it was something. Rowan knows that Andy knows he can be like that in front of her, that she isn’t going to hold it over his head one day when they’re fighting, and that she doesn’t expect him to always be on his A game… but she’s also very aware of the fact that it’s so ingrained in him that he does always need to be strong and in control and to be a man that sometimes he takes a minute to get there. It’s okay, she’s a patient woman (when she wants to be, anyway), she can wait. 

Her head nods when he says he’s got it, even though she knows that he doesn’t and she can’t stop herself from wincing as his arms buckle underneath him and he lands on the ground again with a smack and a mess of curse words. It would be so easy, she thinks, if he’d just let her help him — they could be halfway back to bed by now if he’d stop being so stubborn. Part of her wants to be annoyed about it, but she can’t bring herself to feel that way. It’s obvious he’s struggling with everything that is going on, that he’s barely keeping his head above water and the way he presses his palms against his eyes to keep the tears from flowing show her that everything is finally going to boil over tonight. It would be a lie if she said she hadn’t been expecting this. A person can only bottle stuff up like this for so long before they need some kind of outlet. “That’s okay.” Her reassurance comes out soft when he tells her he doesn’t think he can get up, and the frown on her lips only deepens. Her stance shifts, moving from the crouching position in front of him to sit down beside him, her knee brushing against his as she settles herself. Her hand moves to touch his moving arm gently, finger tips ghosting against the exposed skin of his forearm in a reminder that she’s right here, she’s not going anywhere. “Take your time, handsome. We’re not in a rush.” And they’re not. Rowan knows how Andy’s mind works, knows that he needs a minute to process everything before he can even think to let her in on the thoughts bouncing around in his head right now and she’s more than willing to wait that out. She’s wide awake now, and Benny’s still snoring in his crib — there’s no hurry.

 Her hand drifts from his arm to his back, settling into the space between his shoulder blades and her thumb sweeps back and forth slowly. She lets a moment of silence pass, listening to Andy’s breathing as he struggles to regain any composure he can grasp onto and she feels her own chest tighten at the sound of it, sighing quietly. “How can I help? What do you need me to do?” Her words come out slowly, her voice soft and her tone gentle as if she’s afraid anything other than that is going to have him shattering under her touch. A beat passes between them before she adds on an after thought, “And don’t say go back to bed ‘cause you know that’s not an option.” If he really, truly needs time alone to deal with all of this she won’t impose on that — she’d never force him to talk to her about something he isn’t ready to talk about, but she isn’t going to let him have that alone time on the bathroom floor; isn’t going to just leave him sitting there and clearly distressed. At the very least she wants to help him get up and to the couch or the kitchen table and then if he still wants to be alone she can make herself busy in the next room until he needs her but leaving him like this isn’t something she’ll allow, even if he asks for it. 

The last thing he wants to do is admit defeat -- Whatever the defeat is in this scenario. He’s tried to keep his head above water and keep swimming, but each time something wraps around his ankles and pulls him under. The last few weeks have been one thing after another, piling over him despite how hard he’s trying to remain calm -- Lettie’s arrest is just the straw that broke the camel’s back. He’s tried to keep a stiff upper lip, everything in him telling him to buck up and keep moving -- But truthfully? He has a feeling the the second he lets his guard down, lets himself breathe in the catastrophe that’s happening around them, and he’ll be a goner. It’s a childish fear, one only propelled forward by his own insecurities and unresolved issues -- But he has a feeling if he lets his walls down, lets himself feel everything that’s going on around them, he’ll never be able to come back. He’s terrified of spiraling out of control again, of finding himself downing a bottle of scotch and throwing punches at the first cop he sees; He’s terrified their lives are bound to fall apart like it had after Maddie’s death, that they’ll end up back at square one once again and this time, they won’t make it back. He can already hear her telling him he’s being irrational, reminding him that she’s there. He has no doubt in his mind that Rowan would be by his side through anything, he’s more afraid of himself, of the destruction he’s capable of. God, he wants to feel something, but he knows it’ll only snowball into something much worse. 

So he clenches his jaw as he hits the floor, trying to ignore the way his hands shake and the unrelenting pain shooting up his leg. He’s bound to have bruises forming by now -- He’d gone down hard, there was no denying that he’d end up in bed all day icing the injury tomorrow. Take your time, handsome. As if like clockwork, he voice helps keep him semi-grounded, pulling him from the thoughts plaguing him in this moment. It only lasts a second, though, before he’s reminded of why she’s telling him to take his time at all. Bullshit, he can’t help but think. This is utter fucking bullshit. He lets his eyes fall shut as her hand moves slowly on his back, a sigh following. A hand stays at his eyes in that moment, in an attempt to keep himself calm. There’s tears threatening to spill over, threatening to pull him under despite his best efforts. A silence comes with it, as Andy tries to control his breathing. It’s Rowan’s next words that push him over, and he finally begins to drown. How can I help? It’s not a particularly loaded sentence, but an honest one, enough to cause him to hunch, his hand moving to push through his hair. “Fuck, Rowan.” He begins with, voice cracking as he says her name, eyes blinking furiously as he tries to regain control of himself. She’s seen him cry plenty of times, seen him in his worst moments and he’s done just the same. It doesn’t make it any easier each time, though. It’s not often that he actually lets the tears fall and let himself give in to the grief that eats away at him -- He’s teetered the edge plenty of times, but he’s sure she can count on one hand the amount of times he’s truly cried in front of her. 

“I don’t know, I don’t --” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. At some point between him saying her name and now, he’d begun to cry -- He can feel the tears beginning to roll of his cheeks and hit his shirt, leaving little droplets in their path. Fuck, this is embarrassing, a voice in the back of his head reminds him, taking him back to the times when he was child crying into his pillow at night after a nasty fight at the dinner table. There’s a shame that always comes with it, telling him he should have done better, been stronger -- Only digging the hole deeper and deeper each time. He’s caving in on himself, and it feels as though there’s no going back now. He takes a shaky breath, still refusing to look at her. Even though Rowan’s the only person he trusts to cry around, it doesn’t mean he enjoys her seeing him like this. He avoids eye contact each time, his hand moving to wipe at his cheeks to remove the evidence -- Only to end up replaced with new tears soon after. Another pause, before he’s letting out something between a scoff and a bitter laugh. “I can’t even get up, Christ... How fucking pathetic is that.” He states rather than questions, his shaking hand moving slowly over his thigh. “I -- What am I supposed to do?” He asks, unsure if it’s to Rowan or just into the void, “I don’t think we can come back from this, baby.” His head finally turns to her as he speaks, not bothering to hide the emotion anymore. The second the tears began to fall, there was no way back. “She’s gonna go to prison ‘cause of me, Ro.” He begins again, shaking his head. “She saved me and now she’s paying for her mistake.” 

It seemed that he and his younger brother had the same idea. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Jeremiah walked backwards to join Andy but not lose sight of what was unfolding in front of him. Holding a hand out for a cigarette from Andy’s pack, Jer hummed. “Ya feel different? I thought I’d feel different after winning. But I just want to move on to the next.” Ever since they finished the job with Kane, Jeremiah’s been making a list in his mind of which traitor he’d want to take out next. He just wondered if that was what his siblings were considering too. 

As Jeremiah speaks, Andy shrugs a shoulder. He feels lighter, but Kane’s death doesn’t necessarily make him feel different. It’s a win, but this fight isn’t over -- It doesn’t change the scars that have healed, or stop them from earning new ones in the future. “I’unno,” he settles with, pausing for a moment to take a drag of his cigarette. “Winning,” he finds himself repeat back, nodding slowly. He’s never actually said it out loud -- He doesn’t feel like they’ve won, but this is certainly a victory for them. Andy’s never been one to let himself take down his guard and not look to the bigger picture or a worst case scenario. “M’just curious to see what happens now.”