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Death and the Lady: Chibs Telford X Reader. Chapter Twelve

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PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

18+ Only. Crude sexual language.

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Chapter Twelve: Lamb

The door to the deputy sheriff’s office in Charming’s local P.D., was yanked open so hard that it could almost be considered a miracle it did not fracture the drywall against the doorknob as it slammed against the wall.

Deputy David Hale stared down at Agent June Stahl, his eyes dark and narrow the words flying from his lips. “You had my guys pull records on Tara Knowles and Y/N Y/L/N?”

Stahl gazed up at the infuriated deputy, her voice calm and cool showing no regard for his anger, she not even caring enough to address the question. “Did you enjoy your lunch break?”

Hale glared down at the ATF agent spotting the files spread out across the desk, his stomach turning at the clear sight of old mugshots featuring both Tara and Y/N along with police reports.

He didn’t understand what angle Stahl was working here. If she was interested in ol ladies then surely Gemma Teller Morrow would be a better choice.

Tara and Y/N weren’t exactly on the same level as the Queen of SAMCRO. What could they possibly provide Stahl to build a RICO case against SAMCRO?

Both Tara and Y/N having questionable taste in romantic partners didn’t exactly mean they were involved in gun running.

Deputy Hale slammed the door shut behind him not wanting any nearby ears to pick up on the conversation he was about to have with Stahl. He knew he’d already attracted a few gazes from both ATF agents and his fellow department coworkers by bursting in here clearly pissed off.

He spoke his voice harsh, as he glared down at her, the agent looking all too comfortable sitting at his desk. “They have nothing to do with this investigation.”

“Oh, David. How willfully naive. They have so much to do with this investigation. You aren’t seeing the possibility behind these two.” Stahl remarked an amused smirk crossing her lips at how worked up the good deputy seemed to be over the mention of these two women.

It seemed that she had struck a nerve in him, and she was unable to avoid the temptation to strike again.

Hale let out a scoff at the comment addressing his first concern. “Tara Knowles left Charming and SAMCRO behind. She might have had a wild past, but she’s cleaned up her act. She went out to Chicago and got a medical degree. She’s not opening beers for outlaws anymore.”

“Oh, we both know that’s not entirely true. All these photos Agent Kohn provided seem to indicate that Dr. Knowles is starting to get a little close and personal with one very patched in Jackson Teller. Those two have a history judging by these police reports. Arrests in the nineties for public intoxication, disorderly conduct, and possession of stolen property, all in the company of one Jackson Teller.”

“They dated back when we were teenagers. We all did stupid things as teens. She left town at nineteen and left Teller and the MC behind. She’s been gone for over a decade now. She only came back because her dad died and she got a job opportunity out here.” Hale snapped Agent Stahl rolling her eyes at the comment.

“She was out in Chicago, David. She was top of the class from the looks of it. Brilliant young woman with the accolades to back it up, just how many job opportunities must those brains and accomplishments have brought in for her? With her background she could take a job anywhere in the country at any hospital of her choice. Why’d she pick Charming? I can’t imagine it's just homesickness that led her back here. She could have stayed out in Chicago and made a hell of a lot more money than Saint Thomas is probably offering her. Why pick Saint Thomas and Charming? I think we both are well aware of Agent Kohn’s real reason for coming out to Charming. Agent Kohn is one sick puppy and I can’t imagine Tara was too keen on sticking around up in Chicago with him hanging around. Tara’s ex boyfriend becomes her stalker and she comes back to a town where her first love has a dangerous reputation. You don’t think that’s a little convenient? '' Stahl pointed out Hale gritting his jaw unwilling to admit that the answer to just why she’d come back home lay in Jax Teller.

He spoke, still refusing to admit that Tara could possibly have any possible information to build a RICO case. “I’m sure Jackson Teller’s boy being premature has made Tara and he take some walks down memory lane, but Tara is no ol lady. She’s not getting any pillow talk about gun running from anyone in SAMCRO. Agent Kohn has been taken care of. He’s heading back to Chicago to answer to his superiors. Tara Knowles isn’t looking to seek protection from Teller.”

Stahl raised a brow at the comments, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke. “That may be the case, but you do have to be a little curious about the similarities between Dr. Knowles and Miss. Y/L/N. Both young women with troubled criminally prone backgrounds who left town only to come back after losing their fathers. Both women have been seen in the company of at least one patched in member of SAMCRO. In fact, both women share some similarities in their rap sheets. Looks like they have both been arrested in the company of one Jackson Teller. I do have to wonder if Dr. Knowles knows that Jax found a new Bonnie to his Clyde in her absence.”

Hale let out a huff at this, his voice holding an edge of irritation as he glared down at Stahl. “Y/N had some difficult years in her late teens and early twenties. Jackson and she shared a bond given her brother’s accident.”

“Yes, Daniel Y/L/N. It’s a shame what happened to him. Miss. Y/L/N dutifully pays those institutionalization bills to keep him cared for. Looks like he wasn’t on the best path though. He ran around with Harry Opie Winston and Jackson Teller from what I’m gathering from Daniel’s police record. Looks like his first few arrests weren’t anything too grand, arrests in his late teens for possession of marijuana…not enough to get him more than a fine…some drunk and disorderlies around the same time. He was arrested with both Winston and Teller for a drunken brawl out at the Hairy Dog back when he was twenty one. The arresting officer commented that Mr. Y/L/N seemed elated by the violence. Judging by the black eye and the grin on his face in this mugshot, he was in his element. Strange how he never prospected for the MC. Looks like he was as thick as thieves with Teller and Winston before the accident.”

“His father kept him on a tight leash. After that arrest at twenty one he gave him an ultimatum, some tough love to get him on the right path. From my understanding he told him to get his shit together and enroll in community college or lose access to Y/N. His father didn’t want him leading her down that path. Daniel loved his little sister dearly. She worshiped Daniel and their father knew she’d follow him anywhere. His accident was heartbreaking for her. He may as well have died with as hard as she took it. He was more than a brother to her. I'm sure she viewed Daniel as being her best friend.” Hale explained shifting in place his stomach turning at the mention of a young man he’d once considered a friend before Daniel started going down a bad path with Opie and Jax.

“Looks like the ultimatum was in vain. Daniel Y/L/N has his motorcycle accident and that same year Y/N gets arrested in the company of Jackson Teller. She got busted for public intoxication. Scandalous considering she was all of eighteen and Mr. Teller was about twenty three, a little too old to be sniffing around her, but we both know the MC isn't filled morally upstanding guys. Her being barely out of being considered jailbait must have been thrilling for the boys at SAMCRO.” Stahl provided proudly displaying the mugshot.

Hale gazed down at the mugshot of an eighteen year old Y/N, her face still holding baby fat, her hair a faded pink that had gone a peachy tone, a dazed look in her eyes; she was clearly under the influence. He could spot chipped black nail polish on her fingers and a silver stud in her left nostril. The tank top she wore was far too low cut revealing the red lace of a bra. The slight smirk on her red painted lips showed that she felt little shame for her very first arrest.

Stahl spoke again providing more information about Y/N’s arrest record. “She continued to become a frequent flier in your jail cells. Looks like she got picked up a few more times at eighteen and nineteen, drunk and disorderly, driving under the influence, driving under the influence on a suspended license, possession of the tiniest amount of pot which wasn't enough to be an issue if she wasn’t clearly drunk, an arrest for shoplifting a pack of cigarettes and a candy bar where the arresting officer noted she seemed intoxicated. You picked her up more than once for some of these arrests…that must have been awkward for you both. Looks like she got a few slaps on the wrist, some fines, and some court ordered community service along with a few alcohol education courses. Didn’t seem to faze her though as the arrests continued…gotta love a small town police department. Most of this crap would have landed her doing some real time anywhere but Charming.”

“Sheriff Unser respected her father…everyone respected her father for the good he did for the community; caring for the deceased. He was a beloved figure around Charming. People saw him as personable and caring for the bereaved and diligent about caring for the dead. He had a reputation for being charitable to those who couldn’t always afford to bury their dead…made him even more adored around town. People felt sorry for him after Daniel’s accident…people around town felt awful for the man losing his son and having a daughter who wasn’t coping well. Lloyd Y/L/N advocated for his daughter to stay out of the system…Unser felt bad given what happened with Daniel, didn’t want Lloyd to lose another kid…The judge who ordered the community service and alcohol awareness courses felt the same way given Unser’s appeals to give Y/N opportunities to get her life on the right track. I don’t know how he kept her out of any real jail time or any harsher punishments…Unser’s a slick son of a bitch. I’m sure some money passed between Lloyd Y/L/N’s palm and the judge’s at least once. Lloyd Y/L/N was morally upstanding, but when it came to his little girl…he was willing and desperate enough to break his morals…especially given the situation with his son. He couldn't bear to lose Y/N too.” Hale provided, gritting his jaw at the thought of Unser.

Stahl shook her head. “Guess it’s good to be friends with Unser. Looks like Unser’s appeals kept her out of too much trouble, but she didn’t get her life on the right track. There’s a few more arrests here at nineteen. This one is interesting; an arrest in the company of one Alexander Tig Trager and one Robert Bobby Elvis Munson at a truck stop right on the edge of Charming city limits. Looks like she was about to turn nineteen and all three were clearly very under the influence. Trager was driving erratically and the officer noted that Y/N was so intoxicated that she fell out of the passengers door when the officer opened it. Local PD couldn’t prove that either man had provided the alcohol for Miss. Y/L/N, so Trager and Munson didn’t get more than a slap on the wrist for being in the company of an intoxicated minor. You do have to admit it's troubling a girl her age was hanging out with two men that age. Rumors around town are that Miss. Y/L/N was a regular at SAMCRO’s clubhouse. Looks like she was a…croweater? Isn’t that the term the Sons use for the club whores?”

The comment made Hale see red, the man speaking his voice harsh. “She kept bad company back then, but she was not playing the croweater game. She was not spreading her legs for every single guy in a kutte.”

Stahl smirked at the comment, quickly addressing it. “Sounds like I struck a nerve there, David. You’re getting a little defensive about Miss. Y/L/N’s promiscuous past? One might think you’re sweet on her.”

She smirked all the more as she spotted the way Hale tensed all the more at the comment. She spotted a flash of indignation in the man’s eyes at the implication that Y/N was a club tart. “You arrested her a few times back then, David? That must have been frustrating for you in more ways than one. I bet you wanted to place her in handcuffs in much different circumstances.”

Hale scoffed at this comment shaking his head, his voice tense he refusing to address the innuendo about handcuffs and Y/N the thought making him a little hot under the collar. “I was close with her brother when we were kids. Having to arrest Y/N was not something I found enjoyable.”

Stahl sighed, backing off the teasing as she pulled out another mugshot. “Looks like she was around nineteen and twenty when things got a little disturbing for Miss Y/L/N. Her partner in crime shifted from Jackson and a few members of SAMCRO and to one Nathaniel Gunner Papadopoulos. Nathaniel or Gunner as he goes by is a Son. Looks like he was a nomad at the time, but nowadays he’s fully patched into the Tacoma charter of the Sons. The first arrests with him follow the same path; public intoxication and drunk and disorderly…then things get dark. There were a few calls out to bars around town where the two had some verbal altercations, there were no arrests for these as they vacated the premises and that satisfied the bar owners. Then there was an arrest outside a gas station for being disorderly in public…Y/N is about nineteen here and Gunner is about twenty six…looks like they got into a verbal altercation once again and Mr. Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N…he was arrested. She was taken in after she tried to argue with the arresting officer and interfere with the arrest of Mr. Papadopoulos. It seems she was frustrated that he was being arrested as she did not want to press charges for the physical assault on her. That was the first arrest for an altercation between the pair where things got physical. Looks like one of the final arrests we have of the pair involved an altercation the two had outside of a diner when Miss. Y/L/N was twenty. You were one of the responding officers from what I see”.

Hale shifted in place, his jaw clenching so tight he looked as though he might crack a tooth. He cringed as Stahl continued. “Chances are you must remember the arrest, but I can refresh your memory. From the police record it looks as though Mr. Popadopoulos and Miss. Y/L/N were under the influence and having a lovers spat in the parking lot of the diner, over the waitress getting a little too friendly with Mr. Papadopoulos, when Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N. She reacted by hitting him back and it devolved into a full on physical altercation. Looks like she got him pretty good judging by the scratch marks across his face and the bruises he’s sporting. He seems to have gotten her better though given the split lip. The arresting officer who you were with noted past bruises on Miss. Y/L/N and indicated suspicion of domestic violence, but Miss. Y/L/N seemed to brush questions about it off as evidence of rough sexual encounters between Mr. Papadopoulos and her. You noted in your notes on the arrest that you tried to urge Miss. Y/L/N to press charges against Mr. Papadopoulos as her reaction could be written off as self defense..but she was not interested. The two spent the night in jail and one of the Sons, looks like one of Gunner's fellow nomads that was visiting the mother charter, bailed Gunner out the next morning…Gunner then bailed Miss. Y/L/N out…how romantic. The mugshots are not pretty”

Hale let out a heavy breath, his body filled with tension as he gazed down at the mugshot in question. Y/N looked far less proud of herself in this photo. Her right eye was swollen, the hint of a black eye starting to develop. Her lip was split courtesy of one of Gunner’s silver chunky biker rings. She was dressed in another tight tank top and it did little to hide the bruises across her skin, some markings old and some quite recent. Her eyes held an almost empty sense to them as though she was running on autopilot most of the time but disconnected from her surroundings. Her body seemed too thin and it felt as though it was from more than aging. He suspected drug use though he could not place the drug in question without testing her. Her hair had faded back to its natural tone and the nose piercing was gone. She was scowling at the camera clearly filled with rage.

Hale spoke the words leaving him before he could stop them “I tried to get her to press charges against the bastard. I tried to convince her that he was taking her down a bad path. He had her under some kind of spell or something I don’t know…She left town a few months after that last arrest. Rumors around town said that she was seen using a phone booth near main street looking worse for wear. Her father picked her up and got her out of town.”

Hale took a deep breath, his words harsh he tearing his eyes from the mugshot. “Y/N’s past has no bearing on anything. She has straightened herself out. She’s taken over her father’s business and has stayed on the straightened arrow. She’s grown up.”

“Maybe so…those empty graves that were found back in the cemetery months ago do seem fishy though…given the bodies that disappeared from the Sons warehouse right around the time those bodies from the empty graves were found out in Lodi. Those empty graves were filled by Miss. Y/L/N’s funeral home. Lodi cops seem to have lost steam for the case…and they were satisfied with Miss. Y/L/N’s statements about the incident. Does seem interesting that she comes back to town and just so happens to get involved with a member of SAMCRO right around the time that this whole grave robbing and disappearing bodies situation happens. How convenient for SAMCRO.”

Hale cleared his throat knowing he had his own suspicions about Y/N’s involvement, but he could admit he was choosing to live in denial over the reality of the situation.

He would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t think of Y/N and didn’t feel some sense of fondness for her.

In some way he still remembered her as the talkative little girl who followed her brother and he around when they were kids.

He thought of her as the lonely child who according to his younger sister never could fit in with their peers.

He'd always felt a sense of care for Y/N none the less. He could remember her being vibrant and brave. She was at times a little too fierce and so unapologetic that it bordered on being rude. He could remember finding the quality somewhat admirable though; her willingness to be so brazen.

As she’d grown she’d seemed determined to follow her brother’s path in the company she kept. Hale had been displeased by her rebellion. He had hoped that her brother's accident would scare her straight but it seemed to push her into a life of chaos. She'd clung to the men who her brother had once run amuck with.

Jackson Teller had seemed willing to take Y/N under his wing and lead her to destruction.

Hale would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t feel slightly disturbed as he stood aside and watched Y/N grow into an attractive young woman who seemed to be all too comfortable around the local outlaw MC. He’d maybe gone out of his way back then to try to coax her into understanding that she was down a bad path. He'd been a rookie cop back then and had been all too aware of Y/N's bad behavior. He'd tried to reason with her using his past friendship with her brother to coax her into getting on the right path. When Gunner had gotten involved with her that coaxing had increased but Y/N had practically spit in Hale’s face at his attempts to rescue her from her situation.

He’d been grateful when she'd left town. He'd hoped that she was getting her head on straight. When she came back to town Hale had hopes that she’d grown up in her time away. He’d been relieved when it seemed she’d turned over a new leaf.

Hale could admit that he'd been hopeful that she was done with bad boys in kuttes.

He could also admit that he'd felt a sense of attraction for the young woman who had returned to run her father's funeral home. She seemed a far cry from the angry young woman who used to run around with the MC.

He had been stunned to realize that he no longer viewed her as his old childhood friend's rebellious baby sister. She had grown into an elegant young woman who was dedicated to a respectful career.

He had hopes that perhaps her taste in men had matured as well along with the more sophisticated appearance she'd adopted.

He’d maybe even tried to ask her to dinner or coffee once or twice but she’d rejected the offers. He’d told himself not to take offense to her rejection. He'd decided that perhaps Y/N was going through a difficult time, losing her father and being back in a town she probably was not thrilled to be in.

He had told himself to bide his time and be patient. He had hopes that perhaps she would settle into town and then maybe be more inclined to give him at least one date.

He had hopes that perhaps he could shoot his shot with her again, but had his hopes dashed when she clearly became involved with SAMCRO once again.

When he’d realized she’d chosen Filip Chibs Telford of all men, Hale had been disgusted. The older Scotsman seemed so wrong for her, and she seemed blind to this fact.

It was kind of insulting realizing she'd turned Hale down and chosen Chibs Telford. Though, Hale had a feeling he'd be insulted if she'd chosen any Son after rejecting him more than once.

It was as though Stahl could read his mind because she spoke all too giddy to pull out another file from the stack. “It seems Miss. Y/L/N still favors a bad boy in a kutte and she still likes her men older. Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man. He has past rumored ties to the True IRA. He’s been arrested a few times in Belfast, but nothing could ever stick. His wife though…he’s still very much married by the way…is True IRA Royalty. Fiona Larkin is third generation True IRA. She got Telford involved in the cause. They were childhood sweethearts from what I know. The two were living as a married couple for a few years before they had their daughter. They have one child, Kerrianne Larkin Telford. She’s about twelve going on thirteen. Looks like they were a happy little family of terrorists for a few years at least. That changed most likely when one Jimmy O’Phalen rose up in the ranks of the cause. Looks like Jimmy O’ didn’t seem to be a fan of Telford. Rumors have it that O’Phalen scarred Telford’s cheeks and took his family as his own…banished Telford from the cause and Ireland. Telford fell in with SAMBEL…guess he didn’t take the threat to get out of Belfast too seriously though it looks like he only remained in Ireland with SAMBEL for a couple of years…he patched over to SAMCRO right around the Spring of 2000. He rolled into town a few months after Miss. Y/L/N left town…can you imagine if he’d made it stateside a few months before she left…the pair would have found each other sooner. Either way it looks like the pair found each other. I spotted them out and about the other day and by the look of affection I spotted him giving her, I would guess Y/N has been given ol lady status by Telford. She doesn't appear to be sporting the crow ink some of the other ol ladies are, but all the same...the looks he was giving her screamed love…do have to wonder if she knows he’s married.”

She paused watching Hale’s jaw tense a smirk crossing her lips before she spoke again. “She knows how to pick them doesn't she? I bet Telford gives Y/N all sorts of juicy bits of pillow talk…sweet little tight thing like her must make him all relaxed and satisfied enough to get those lips moving. Pussy gets men talking; especially trusted pussy that they love. Judging by the looks Telford gives her around town; he’s dedicated. Given his traumatic past and his appearance, I bet it wasn’t hard to get him dedicated. I have a feeling that Y/N doesn’t have to do much to get him talking. Bet she only has to suck him off to get all sorts of information out of him.”

“She’s not going to say a word, if she is an ol lady, she’s been given the orders on how to handle questions about the club. Even if Chibs is giving her details she won’t betray him.” Hale snapped trying to push thoughts of Y/N and Chibs doing anything slightly sexual from his head, the thought feeling him with both disgust and envy of what the Scotsman managed to have with Y/N.

Stahl shrugged her shoulders as she spoke. “Even if she doesn’t know he’s still married? Bet if we dropped some truth on her about her boyfriend’s current marital status, we might get her pissed off enough to run her mouth. If he betrayed her then well…hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“And if she knows he’s married.” Hale remarked what Stahl was suggesting make bile rise in the back of his throat. Call it a crush or fondness or whatever, but he didn’t like the idea of breaking Y/N’s heart to get information.

“If the tart is fine with being a mistress then I’m sure we can find some other way to get her lips moving. It doesn’t hurt to give her some pressure and see how she handles it.” Stahl provided a smirk crossing her lips at the rage in Hale’s eyes at the statement about Y/N being a tart.

She spoke again, a chuckle leaving her. “Don’t look so gloomy David, this might work in your favor. We get Telford out of the picture and you might just have a shot. Maybe we push her off bad boys, you can play white knight. You can finally put those handcuffs to use with her in a far more pleasant environment. Of course that might put a stop to the fun we’ve been having together hmm, but who am I to stand in the way of true love.”

He scoffed at the comment, his shoulders tensing at the suggestion as well as the implication of what Stahl and he had fallen into.

Stahl let out a sigh. “She can have you when I’m done. Trust me David, we can always press the ol ladies. No information is useless in RICO.”

Hale cringed at the comment, his stomach turning at this plan.

He took a deep breath, having the feeling that Stahl was in for a challenge. Y/N was a tough nut to crack.

Pissed off Y/N didn’t run her mouth. She just lashed out.

—----------------------------------------------

Y/N was surprised and relieved to see the roses left on her parent’s gravestones. She could admit she’d not been to the graveside since her father’s burial.

She’d been to the cemetery plenty enough thanks to her work…but she’d not had the nerve to walk over to the section where quite a few of her family were laid to their final rests.

Her paternal ancestors and their spouses were all buried close by one another. The oldest section of the cemetery held her oldest ancestors and their offspring.

She knew that one day she herself would most likely be buried here alongside her family. There were already two plots at her parents' side that technically belonged to her.

Her father was always one to plan ahead when it came to funerals and had purchased the plots remarking Y/N could keep them for Daniel and herself or if she married and wanted to be buried with her future spouse she could sell her plot.

She had rolled her eyes at the comment about marriage of course. The idea had seemed preposterous given her tumultuous dating history and how most men who might be ideal for a future spouse showed her little interest aside from gazing longingly at her body.

She’d dated a few guys out in New York. She’d even had one pretty serious boyfriend but it had fizzled out before any serious talk about marriage and the future had come to fruition.

She knew her past held her back in her relationships in New York. How was she supposed to explain her past with the MC in Charming to prospective life partners?

She knew her most recent ex-boyfriend had some suspicions about her past…given her tendency to occasionally flinch during moments of intimacy that got a little too rough. She had never worked up the nerve to go into the full story though. She had a feeling her ex had sensed her trauma but had not been equipped to deal with it when she’d shut down any pleas for information about her past.

She was not quite ready to go into her background with that boyfriend. She was certain he couldn’t handle her past. So, she’d pushed him away the same way she did with most boyfriends. Scaring guys and pushing them out with cold behavior was easier than going into detail about her time as a friend of SAMCRO and the pain she’d endured at Gunner’s hands.

Chibs Telford was the first romantic partner who had any knowledge of what Gunner had done to her as well as her past sexual encounters with both Jax and a few other men.

She was stunned by Chibs’ reaction. He not only still wanted her, but had proven to her that he desired her.

It was not an outcome she had imagined when she’d allowed herself to imagine what might happen if she were to ever reveal the darker parts of her past to a man who liked her.

She kept thinking back to the words Chibs had said to her after he’d eaten her out; that he wanted to show her how she deserved to be treated.

It was a new and exciting concept to her; being treated well by a romantic partner.

She hoped that she’d proven to him that she wanted to treat him in kind. She couldn’t help but to think that with his own traumas he deserved to be reminded of how he deserved to be treated as well.

She’d been more certain that he deserved all the tenderness and adoration on the planet by his reaction to the knowledge that she was planning on going to the gravesite today.

He’d offered to come along with her. He’d wanted to provide her with emotional support when she’d admitted she’d not gone to her parents' gravesite since her father’s funeral.

Y/N could admit she’d been tempted to let him tag along.

She’d resisted the urge to allow it though. She’d told herself that her first visit to the gravesite should be on her own.

Perhaps in the future though; she might let Chibs come with her.

A morbid voice in the back of her head told her it was the most depressing bring the guy you like home to meet the parents' situation, but she shushed the voice.

She was also overtaken with the realization that she was an orphan now. She had no living parents…so that made her an orphan didn’t it?

A voice in the back of her head told her it was a dumb thought…everyone became an orphan at some point in their lives, so it wasn’t something that was that unique.

She shifted the red roses aside placing the daisies she’d purchased on either parent’s grave.

She had a feeling the roses left on each grave had been Old Charlie’s doing. Roses seemed more his taste than Skeeter’s.

She was not surprised to see that the graves had been well maintained, any flowers that had been left at her father’s funeral being taken away after they’d wilted. The area was clean and polished waiting for her.

She had a feeling that this was both Old Charlie’s and Skeeter’s doing. The men had most likely been out to the gravesite maintaining it until she felt ready to make it out. It was clear that they’d cared enough about her to make it neat and ready for her.

She found herself sitting on the ground directly in front of her father’s tombstone not caring if the dirt below her got her jeans somewhat dirty. It would be a long while before grass grew over the filled in grave. Grass had long ago grown over her mother’s filled in grave given that the woman had died when Y/N was so young.

She sighed, her eyes lingering on her mother’s tombstone for a brief moment. She rarely visited it. Her father had been the one who had gone out to maintain it.

She’d gone once or twice when she was a teenager looking for some maternal connection that she’d craved. She felt foolish for the action knowing she would not find that connection in a cold marble tombstone.

Her mother’s full name was written on the dark marble stone in neat font: Caroline Hope Y/L/N. Beloved Wife and Mother. Her birthdate and death date were written below the inscription. A small dove had been carved into the edge of the stone. It was a simple stone and Y/N had been certain her father had struggled to choose it as he’d planned her mother’s entire funeral.

She’d never quite understood how he’d had the mental strength to embalm and bury the woman he loved, but Y/N assumed that in her father’s mind it was just the last act of love he could give his wife. He’d made sure she was cared for. Y/N could distinctly remember seeing the clothing her mother had been buried in…a modest blue sundress with a white floral print and a pearl necklace. She had only been four then, but somehow her mother’s funeral dress was a core memory that had stuck. Her father had allowed Daniel and her to view their mother in the casket at the funeral. Daniel had run away from it but Y/N had remained staring at the woman.

She was unsure if she loved or hated her father’s choice of giving her this core memory.

She tore her eyes from her mother’s tombstone, hating to admit she felt disconnected from the woman. Y/N felt a sense of love knowing that this was her mother, but she didn’t remember her clearly enough to feel the sense of grief she told herself she should feel.

She’d always held the thought in; certain it would upset her father. Her mother had been the love of her father’s life. She’d been his first and his last everything.

They’d met as teenagers and were one another’s first love. Her mother’s father had worked the funeral circuit preaching around Charming and surrounding towns and he’d brought his daughter along. Y/N’s father had been the funeral director’s son.

Y/N’s parents had met for the first time at a funeral. It was not the most romantic meet-cute, but it was her parents.

Her father had never remarried after her mother’s death. He’d not even dated. He’d remained dedicated to her even in death.

When Y/N was younger she’d hoped that she might be lucky enough to find love that deep with someone.

As she’d gotten older though she’d become jaded by the concept.

She sighed, staring at her father’s tombstone, the dark marble was simple with her father's name engraved into the stone: Lloyd Oliver Y/L/N. Beloved Father. Dedicated Husband. Respected Mortician.

The last addition had been her father’s request. Even in death he was proud of his profession.

She felt her throat grow tight telling herself this would feel cathartic even if she was just talking to a marble stone. “I’m sorry I haven’t been out here to visit…I’m actually sorry for a lot of things I’ve done lately.”

She clasped her hands together wringing them, her voice tense. “I can say without any hesitation that if you were still here right now…that saying sorry wouldn’t be enough with what I’ve done. I know how proud you were of our work…how proud you were that I followed you into the work you loved. I’m afraid I’ve sullied it though. You would hate what I’ve done…I fucked it up again, just like I always do. You know me; family disappointment as usual.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, her voice soft. “I’m sorry though, I really really am. I went down a path you’d hate. I got greedy and now I can’t get out of this…the sick thing is I was given a possible way out of it by Filip and I told him no. I am so desperate to burn in the hell of my own making. I…maybe I just like the pain. I think I deserve it in some sick way. How else do you explain why I’m so impulsive? I let the flame burn me and I never figure out that fire hurts…maybe I know it hurts but some part of me likes it. Maybe I’m sick? You did always worry about me…when I was a kid, I was way too interested in your job…Remember that teacher I had in elementary…fourth grade…she thought I was disturbed because I talked about your job so much…maybe I am. I mean what kind of person is so willing to do what I’ve done? What kind of girl prefers the company of the dead because the living scare the hell out of her? Maybe people around town are right about me? I’ve had a few boyfriends in New York tell me I’m not normal. Maybe at the end of the day I’m not right in the head…maybe I’m fucked mentally. How else do you explain the choices I make? I’ve always been quick to anger, too depressed, too impulsive, too starved for risk. I never know what’s good for me. I’ve had nice guys ask me out…back in New York…hell even Deputy Hale tried to take me to dinner pretty soon after I got into town… and I would rather scoop my eyes out with a melon baller than let a nice guy love me. I push people away because it protects me. I go for guys who don’t deserve me…I go for what hurts me. I let someone like Gunner violate me more than once and I stuck around. Maybe my brain is just abnormal.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I always felt bad for you…two bad kids. How could such a nice guy have such bad kids? I used to blame you for it when you’d scold me for whatever crap I had pulled…say that you were too damn nice and that was probably why I was so rotten. I tried to say that maybe if you were less focused on your job and more focused on Danny and me then we’d not have turned out so bad. I know it was unfair to turn it back on you. I think I was parroting the perceptions I heard from people around town though…poor charitable respected Lloyd Y/L/N dedicated to his service to the community but cursed with two ungrateful brats. You were always fighting to keep me out of jail or worse…always dealing with Danny’s health after the accident…always trying to balance the job with making sure your kids stayed alive. I know Danny and I both gave you hell…You died thinking that I was finally done giving you hell…but surprise.”

She let out a shaky sigh, her fingers reaching out to trace the birth and death date on the tombstone. “You died thinking SAMCRO was a thing of my past…you thought your biker whore daughter had finally grown up…I know you’d hate me for calling myself that. You never were fond of my choice in language especially when I used it to degrade myself. I know I always tried to take some high ground and claim that I was nothing like the girls that hung around the MC and threw themselves at anything in a kutte…was I really any better though at the end of the day? I may have been a bit more discerning in who I fucked but…I still liked a man in a kutte and a criminal record a mile long. I loved the danger…I loved the chaos. Nice guys who worked nine to five jobs just didn’t do it for me like the outlaws could. I wasn’t satisfied with a dick unless the guy attached to it had a rap sheet.”

She rolled her eyes, the words leaving her. “I know…just what every man wants to hear about, his daughter’s sex life. I guess you aren’t really here to hear it though…I hope you’re not hanging around watching me that much. That would be kind of creepy if you were just hanging around watching me 24-7.”

She let out another shaky breath as she spoke. “I met someone…Jesus, Daddy, you’d hate Filip. You would take one look at the reaper on his back and kill him on sight. You’d ship me back to New York if you were still here. You would not even give Filip a minute of your time to even attempt to win you over. You would look at his appearance and who he is and want me to get away from him. You’d see the scars on his cheeks and the kutte on his back and that would be that, no chance of accepting him.”

She shook her head, a small humorless laugh leaving her. “I know the age difference would make you less than enthusiastic. He’s forty five years old…just turned forty five. He was about sixteen when I was born. If that wasn’t enough to make you cringe…He’s got a wife and a kid back in Belfast…they’re estranged but they are still there…You’d take one look at those facts and shoot him on sight. I’m sure you’d take me for a fool…your poor damaged daughter hooked up with the married outlaw biker who is way too old for her…and if that didn’t piss you off you’d be so enraged about his past in Belfast even if I’d lie and try to tell you it's only rumors. I know you would just look at Filip and see danger. You’d see a guy who is going to destroy your kid. You wouldn’t think he’s good enough.”

She traced her father’s name, her voice soft. “I know what I’d say to you though. I’d say that he's good enough. I would tell you I don’t care about Belfast or who lives there…The age difference doesn’t bother me. I’d probably try to push your buttons and spit out some bullshit about how I am happy to call Filip Daddy even if he’s not quite old enough for that unless he was a teen dad. I’d probably tell you that a man his age has the experience to know how to make me feel so good, that he’s far more gifted in bed than guys my age.”

She paused, rolling her eyes. “I never was appropriate and I kind of lived to make you cringe back when I was having my rebellious years. I figured out that being vulgar and oversharing about anything sexual could make you back off and not suspect the reality of what I was going through. I was always capable of looking like a proper lady but my mouth and my tendency to love shocking people always ruined the prim lady disguise I wear.”

She cleared her throat, her words genuine. “I would be telling you the truth about him being worthy of me…he reminds me everyday that he wants to be worthy of having me. He’s tried pretty damn hard to woo me. I think even you’d be approving of the effort he’s put into it…the man didn’t run screaming when I told him what a trocar was. That’s impressive, you’d have to admit it. He asks me questions about my job; not to appease me or charm me, but because he wants to hear what I have to say. He’s been good to me. He makes me feel safe. I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel safe…at least not a romantic partner. I’ve never felt this protected with anyone.”

She felt her throat grow tight, spilling more of her heart. “I told him about Gunner…told him more than I even dared to ever tell anyone…even you. Pretty sure he’s the first person besides a therapist who knows all the details. I told him every last detail. He didn't run away like I feared he would. I was sure he’d run…or worse he’d look at me differently…like I am in fact just the biker groupie everyone around town thought I was back then. I was afraid if he knew about Gunner and the others…that he would surely leave. I mean…how is a guy supposed to cope with the fact that some of the men he shares a kutte with have fucked the girl he’s dating…how is he supposed to deal with the fact that one of those men, even if it’s a man in another charter…did what he did to me…I don’t know, I’ve always struggled with admitting what the lack of consent with Gunner meant…saying the word. Filip is the one who said the word…told me how wrong it was…even told me he wanted Gunner dead for what he did to me. I expected my past to be too much for him or for him to develop this weird jealousy issue…you know how guys are when they know someone else has touched their possessions… Filip though, his reaction was to feel sorrow for me…he wanted to show me what being shown love is supposed to feel like…he wanted to protect me and get retribution for what happened to me. He offered to kill for me, Daddy…and he meant it. I know you’d probably not approve of the fact that he’s capable of such a thing…but I’d have to hope that you’d approve of his desire to keep me safe…to love me. Filip doesn’t view me as a possession. I know you’d find that really really hard to believe…men in his world have some pretty fucked views of women. I’m not claiming he’s some abnormality in that world. I just think I’m as much Filip’s as he’s mine though.”

She sighed knowing she was safe to say the words here with no one to listen. “I love him…I love Filip Telford. He doesn’t know about it yet…I’m half afraid to tell him. What if he doesn’t feel the same? I keep thinking of what you’d say…you’d probably tell me that if he’s dumb enough not to love me then he’s too dumb for me. I need him to love me though…it sounds so pathetic to say it…I've never claimed to need anyone to love me...I have always been the type to say that people can love me or hate me and I don't give a damn either way...I like to think I’m independent…that I could go back to life before I met him…I, so much has changed in my life so fast over these past months. I resisted his affections so much when I first met him...I was afraid of what he'd lead me to...of falling back in with SAMCRO. He's made it clear though that he has zero intention of leading me back into the pain that I found with his world...I’m scared of how my life has changed over these past few months, of how things have changed since you died and I came back home, but Filip…he makes it feel so much less scary. I’ve opened up to him so much about my past and I have never felt comfortable enough with anyone to do that. I don't feel so alone with him around. I've never felt that...belonging. I always try to pretend that I don't mind being alone. I try to say that loneliness is just a part of life...Filip makes me want to stop isolating myself...and not accept the idea that I just have to be alone. I have never had that with anyone...the sense that they feel lucky to have me around...the acceptance of me for who I am. I don't have to pretend not to be so morbid or so quick to anger. I don't feel like I have to hide the parts of me that scare other people around Filip. I need him more than he knows. I just keep hoping that maybe he needs me just as bad.”

She shook her head reaching up to wipe at a stray tear threatening to spill from her eye. "I can’t say that you’d be fond of Filip… I can’t say you two would love each other, or even try to pretend to get along…but I think that maybe my loving him would be enough for you…I think me being happy with him would be enough. You always worried about my happiness…about me finding my place in the world. I want to be in his world…it scares me, but I trust that he would keep me safe.”

She spoke again, pulling her hand back from the stone. “I’m going to visit more often…even if you aren’t here, I know you’re not really here…I want to bring Filip sometime. He wants to come with me…to support me. I’m going to let him. I am letting him in…you’d like that…me letting someone in.”

She adjusted the daisies in front of the stone as she spoke. “Even if you wouldn’t be proud of me, I hope you’d still love me. You told me once that a father never stops loving his child. I hope that’s true.”

She stood up, wiping the dirt from her jeans as she spoke. “I love you, Daddy. I’ll see you later.”

She turned ready to make the long trek back to her car hoping that she could maybe get a latte somewhere to perk up enough to make it to the grocery store to gather the items she needed for the week.

She paused as a woman approached her. The professional looking woman was thin and tall with straight dark blonde hair and a pantsuit that screamed Fed. She appeared to be in her mid thirties at least. Her lips were thin and she wore little makeup. She had a narrow straight nose and well manicured brows. Her eyes were dark and they were fixed on Y/N.

She felt a chill run down her spine as the woman approached her giving a calm smile that did not match the intensity of her gaze. “Y/N Y/L/N?”

Y/N nodded her head, her voice tense, she doing her best to appear relaxed and calm. “Speaking.”

The woman pulled a badge from her jacket pocket revealing that Y/N was right to think fed. “Agent June Stahl, ATF.”

Y/N sighed keeping that same relaxed demeanor as she spoke. “Can I help you Agent Stahl?”

“I’m guessing you aren’t here on business? More of a personal visit?” Stahl asked, nodding down at the dark wash jeans and gray babydoll tee Y/N was wearing.

Y/N spoke her stomach turning at Stahl’s avoidance of the question. “I’m not here for work.”

She paused speaking again trying to sound more assertive than she felt. “How can I help you?”

Stahl spoke as she shoved her badge back into her jacket pocket. “What do you know about SAMCRO?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the question. Stahl apparently was ready to jump right into it. She shrugged her shoulders giving the company line Chibs had taught her to give though she’d known the line long before Chibs and she had become involved. “That motorcycle club? Pretty sure they’re just a bunch of mechanics who are motorcycle enthusiasts. Pretty sure they throw a good wild party.”

Stahl smirked at the comment, not surprised by it. “Of course, Didn’t you used to be a frequent attendee of those wild parties?”

Y/N shifted in place, her arms crossing over her chest. “I did use to prefer Jack Daniels to mint tea. Didn’t everyone have a rebellious phase?”

Stahl nodded her head, not missing the chance. “And what a phase it was for you. I have to say I’m kind of annoyed but impressed, Y/N, several arrests under your belt and you served not a moment in a real jail cell. Looks like you got more than a few slaps on the wrist though…guess it helps that your daddy was buddy buddy with the local sheriff.”

Y/N held her head up high fast to respond, keeping her voice even refusing to address how her father had always been willing to appeal to Unser to keep her out of any real trouble. “I am not proud of my past behavior. If I could go back I’d change a few things.”

“Is SAMCRO one of those things you might change? I have taken a look at that rap sheet of yours, sweetheart, looks like the innocent club of motorcycle enthusiasts got you into some trouble back in the day.” Stahl remarked, stepping closer to Y/N.

Y/N stepped back a frown crossing her features. “Like I said, I indulged a little too hard back then…people do dumb shit when they’re drunk.”

“Is one of those dumb things Nathaniel Papadopoulos? Or Gunner…as he seems to insist on being called?” Stahl remarked not shy about bringing up something that she knew would make Y/N cringe.

The mention of Gunner did just that. Y/N crossed her arms tighter, her voice picking up a hint of tension. “I did dumb shit when I drank as much as I did. He was the dumbest. I was nineteen years old when I met him…I wasn’t mature enough to pick romantic partners who were the best for me. Pretty sure most nineteen year olds pick shit men. I wised up and left him. It’s ancient history at this point in my life.”

“What about now? Just what kind of men are you picking?” Stahl remarked a cool smile crossing her lips as she attempted to prod the answer from Y/N.

Y/N sighed fast to respond. “Ones who don’t beat the shit out of me.”

Stahl reached into the professional looking messenger bag she had slung around her arm as she spoke, pulling out a file. “You do pick men with records though. You should have a peek at his.”

She handed the file to Y/N watching as the woman gazed down at it searching for any hint of a chance to pounce.

Y/N gazed down at the open file in front of her, raising a brow at what was clearly Chibs’ rap sheet. She shrugged her shoulders, keeping her calm not bothering to read past a few lines not shocked by what she saw. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

Stahl smirked, nodding her head down at the file as she spoke. “Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man isn't he…if you believe the rumors around town…I find that most rumors have some truth to them.”

She paused nodding down at the file again as she spoke. “You should flip to page two…the arrests in Belfast. He was court martialed and discharged from the Queens Armed Forces at nineteen. Looks like he had a temper in his youth. The arrests in Belfast continue from there. Pretty sure he got into a few brawls on the behalf of the cause…The True IRA tends to frown upon anyone they think may be a loyalist. Looks like Telford took offense to loyalty to the crown, looks like he was not afraid to fight dirty…then there’s the suspicion of a few bombings that he may or may not have been involved in, can’t get a clear answer on that one. Any investigations went nowhere…There were a few rumors about how he may have taken part in the murder of a Northern Irish police officer but there was never any proof to tie him and his associates to it…speaking of his associates in Belfast…his wife…Fiona, she’s definitely True IRA through and through. Third generation, comes by it honestly. Her mugshot is on page three…she got arrested with her husband for one of those brawls I talked about. She is a fiery one…darker than I expected though for an Irishwoman. Pretty sure she’s the Black Irish we always hear about.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop turning the page on autopilot gazing down at the pretty young woman in the photo and a photo of a young Chibs, his face free from the scars that Jimmy O’ had left him with.

Fiona was an elegant looking woman with wild dark curls and piercing dark eyes. Her nose was narrow and her lips were pressed into a smirk that showed she had no worries about having any mugshot taken. She gave off the energy of someone who was well versed in danger and quite content to invoke it if necessary.

Stahl spoke up, a slight smirk on her lips clearly hoping to strike a nerve. “You did know he’s married right?”

Y/N glanced up at Stahl, her face not giving the reaction the woman was probably hoping for. She kept her cool not letting the information of what Chibs had done in Belfast nor the photo of his estranged wife rattle her. “Yes, I was aware. They’re estranged. Divorce unfortunately is not an option…You know how the Catholics are? I’m afraid I don’t know too much about Filip’s years in Belfast aside from the mundane fact that he was a mechanic and that he left some tragedy behind.”

If Stahl was disappointed in Y/N’s reaction she didn’t reveal it as she replied to the comment. “Yes, a true tragedy. I guess you’ve heard all the rumors that fly around Belfast…Jimmy O’Phalen took Fiona and Chibs’ and her daughter for his own…left Telford with a reminder to not even attempt to get them back.”

Y/N clenched down on the file as Stahl motioned to her cheeks lining them along where Chibs’ scars were embedded into his cheeks. She spoke again, a sigh leaving her. “Telford joined up with SAMBEL after that…Guess he was familiar with the MC before hand, so, they were happy to take him on...even though rumor has it O’Phalen banished him from Ireland…guess the banishment finally kicked in though since Telford came stateside back in 2000. He hasn’t seen Fiona or his daughter since Kerrianne was around four. I’m amazed Telford got citizenship in the states…given his record and the trouble he’s gotten into out here.”

Y/N kept her voice flat as she replied. “America is the land of opportunity.”

“That it is…and what opportunity has he found with you?” Stahl dared to ask a small smile crossing her lips hoping to make Y/N squirm.

Y/N spoke knowing the line to give a hint of snark in her voice, deciding that being vulgar might work in her favor. “I open his beers and suck his dick. Pretty sure most men couldn’t ask for more.”

“And what does he say when you wrap those soft lips of yours around that dick of his?” Stahl remarked, proving she was just as vulgar.

Y/N gave her a smile that she hoped read as confident not above continuing with the line of conversation though she was full of shit…they’d not gone that far sexually just yet. “Pretty sure he’s too busy moaning when I take him down my throat. That Scottish accent of his is hard enough to understand on its own…the second he gets is dick wet I may as well not even try to decipher Glaswegian.”

“And what about afterwards…any juicy bits of pillowtalk? Orgasms tend to make lips loose, I find.” Stahl dared to ask she stepping even closer to Y/N.

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the words sliding from her. “He tends to start snoring after he cums…You know men. You rock their world and they reward you by conking out.”

She paused lying through her teeth deciding that playing up the sexual role would work in her favor.

It was a game she’d learned to play during her time in the clubhouse…when she wanted to entice a man into giving her what she wanted.

She found that playing the minx could work in her favor with men and could make straight women intimidated enough to slink back. “I will say that that is the one advantage to getting your rocks off with a woman. Women are a little better at pillowtalk…too bad I like a good thick dick more than a nice wet pussy.”

Stahl smirked giving Y/N a reaction that she’d expected to get if she’d been talking to a man. She sighed, the realization hitting her that Stahl was playing on both teams. She recognized a raging bisexual when she saw one. “I can only imagine…what a shame you have your preferences.”

Y/N spoke as she stepped back, dropping the flirty tone from her voice. “I don’t know too much about SAMCRO. I can’t imagine they’re too interesting. Just a bunch of mechanics who love a good Harley and a crazy party…Like I said, any trouble they may find is usually aided by booze…people do dumb shit when they drink. I’m afraid my party days are over. Most people don’t like the idea of the local undertaker sliding around a stripper pole in a biker clubhouse. Pretty sure Filip would not be too into the idea of seeing me on any pole unless he’s the only one watching.”

“I’ll say it again, what a shame.” Stahl remarked that smirk still on her lips though Y/N did spot a hint of annoyance in the woman’s eyes at the fact that Y/N was still feeding the company line on SAMCRO.

She paused speaking again. “Telford and you make an interesting pair…a funeral director and a biker…just how did you meet?”

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the lie sliding from her lips. “My Acura got a flat tire. We got to talking and one thing led to another. I’ve always had a thing for accents.”

Stahl spoke up, nodding over Y/N shoulder at the gravestones. “You came back to Charming to a big mess from what I heard. Your father left you with some debt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Y/N remarked her voice cool and collected she snapping the folder she’d been holding shut.

Stahl nodded her head at the comment she daring to bring out the big guns. “I’ve taken a peek at those debts of yours. You paid a little chunk of them off in cash…Just where did you get the cash? The payment was in the thousands. Lots of cash to having lying around with your debts.”

Y/N remembered the lie Chibs had told her to tell. She was relieved he’d given her enough background about Clay and Gemma’s finances, so that she could tell a believable story. “Gemma Teller Morrow asked for my expertise. Her poor grandson having such a frightful entrance into the world got her thinking about her own mortality. Her husband and she were willing to pay me quite well for my time to discuss plans. They know my time is valuable and they took up quite a bit of it…They were willing to make it worth my while as they kept me so busy and out of reach from any of my other duties at work…pretty sure Gemma has some oil investments that give her some nice payouts. I came to them for the plans…made a trip out to the garage to discuss it all and went through the trouble of bringing all of the catalogs I have. They choose a luxury option for their caskets…mahogany and satin. I don’t do home visits for funeral planning, so they wanted to make sure I was compensated for the exception I made for them. They paid me double my usual rate plus travel expenses.”

“That is an extravagant payout.” Stahl remarked her tone of voice hinting she did not buy Y/N’s tale.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, her voice calm knowing she sounded heartless, but it was better to sound heartless than guilty. “People will pay anything to have peace of mind when it comes to death.”

Stahl dared to speak, nodding again at the cemetery around them. “I would have thought they might shy away from using your services…given what happened to those two men you buried a while back.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh shaking her head. “The grave robberies were an unfortunate incident. The families of those poor men were heartbroken over what happened to their loved ones' remains. I did everything in my power to make sure that they were cared for. The family was far more understanding than they had to be. They know I did my part when it came to the care of their loved ones before their final rests were disturbed. I hope the Lodi police find whoever was responsible for such a gruesome act. If I got my hands on them…well let’s just say I don’t approve of anyone fucking with my paychecks.”

Stahl smirked, hating to admit she was impressed with how quick the response was. Y/N was not an easy nut to crack. “And your boyfriend had nothing to do with those empty graves.”

“Why would Filip have anything to do with it? He’s just a mechanic.” Y/N remarked a small laugh leaving her she managing to make the accusation appear as though it sounded ridiculous to her.

“A mechanic with quite the record. You should hang on to that file, Y/N. Take a good look at it. There’s some really interesting bits of information there. Filip Telford is far from innocent. I think you are smart enough to know that. I am also thinking you aren’t so innocent either…that must be why he’s so obsessed with you. If that wife of his is any indication of the kind of woman he likes…then you are one bad girl.” Stahl remarked, nodding down to the folder still in Y/N’s hands.

Y/N gave Stahl a calm smile shrugging her shoulders. “I’m an absolute angel, Agent Stahl.”

She paused, giving the agent a flirty smile as she stepped around her ready to pass. “At least outside the bedroom. Now, if you excuse me. I have some errands to attend to. If you have any further questions you can find me at the funeral home.”

And with that Y/N found herself heading back to her car the folder she held clutched tightly in her hand.

She couldn’t decide if she wanted to burn the folder or not.

—-------------------------------

Chibs sighed rolling his eyes at Juice as he rounded the billiards table for what felt like the hundredth time.

He spoke nodding down at the pool cue in the younger man’s hands. “Are ya takin yer damn shot or not? I ain’ got all day, Juicey.”

Juice scowled at the older man, his voice tight. “We put money on this okay? I don’t trust you after last time. I still say you hustled me, talked that damn croweater into distracting me and putting me off my game.”

“Aint my fault yer a shite pool player. I won fair an square.” Chibs snapped back a small smirk on his lips knowing that he had maybe talked the buxom blonde croweater Juice was recalling into helping distract Juice from the game.

It hadn’t been too selfish in Chibs’ opinion. He got Juice laid.

Chibs sighed as his cell phone began to chime he yanking it from his kutte knowing he might as well have a phone call since Juice was nowhere near getting on with the game.

He felt his heart lift at the familiar number as it flashed along his screen. He hit accept call, his voice becoming far more cheery than it had been moments before. “Hen, what are ye doin?”

“I need you, Filip.” She blurted out the comment striking him off guard.

The words were appealing but he was not hearing them in the context he would prefer. Her voice seemed panicked.

She spoke again knowing she sounded paranoid but a voice told her if Stahl was interested in her then who was to say that the feds hadn’t found a way to listen in on her calls. She had little idea how bugging phones worked outside of movies. “I need help with my lamb…seasoning it. You know what to do with lamb.”

Chibs furrowed his brow, thrown off even more by the comment. Y/N didn’t eat lamb.

He’d learned that bit of information when he’d mentioned Half Sack’s vegetarianism to Y/N as well as Gemma’s criticism of vegetarians. Y/N had commented that she was not a vegetarian and didn’t think she would be strong willed enough to be one. She did admit that she couldn’t bring herself to eat veal or lamb though. She had commented that she knew it was stupid as she’d eat the adult versions of cows at least…but she couldn’t get herself to eat lamb nor veal as they were both baby animals. He could remember finding the comment kind of sweet though amusing.

He felt his stomach turn it hitting him she was worried that someone was listening in on the conversation.

He spoke trying to keep his calm and not fly off the handle at the thought. “Are ya safe, Love? Is anyone following ya? Are ya alone?”

“Yeah, no. You know it. I uh…just ran into someone while I was out…we got to talking as she reminded me of how much a pain lamb is to deal with. I know you know just what to do with lamb. So, I thought I’d call in the expert. I thought I might call Gemma about it…you remember what she told me about lamb back when we met to make those future funeral plans for Clay and her. I figured that you might be the person to go to though.” Y/N remarked still keeping her cool not helping but to feel like a moron for this entire charade.

She had a feeling that Chibs seemed to have caught up on the game though and was intelligent enough to decode what she was trying to say.

He spoke tossing the pool cue he’d been holding down on the table not caring if it scattered the balls and alarmed Juice. “Aye, I’ll be there, Hen. Don’t ya worry Mo ghràidh. I’ll handle the lamb fer ye.”

“Okay, be at my place…I’m headed there now.” She provided saying the remaining words in her head. I love you, Filip.

“Aye, I’ll be there soon.” He replied unaware that she was thinking the same thing he was currently thinking. I love you.

He hung up his cell sending Juice nod as he turned to leave. “Game’s over, Laddie. If Clay asks I’m goin to see my ol lady. Gotta help her with some lamb. Tell Gemma to give me a call. She knows what to do with lamb.”

Juice furrowed his brow as he watched Chibs leave the man not paying him any mind. He spoke to an empty clubhouse completely confused by the interaction. “Lamb?”

—----------------------------------------------

Her lips met his the second he walked in the door.

Chibs let himself into Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home well past knocking and waiting for someone to allow him entrance.

He’d spent almost every night in the home this past week, so formalites like knocking had been forgotten.

He made his way upstairs nodding to Skeeter, the man giving him only rolled eyes in response.

As soon as Chibs stepped past the sliding door that led him into Y/N’s living quarters her lips met his in a bruising kiss.

He returned the kiss, his hands sliding along her body appreciating the figure he’d been shamefully admiring since their first meeting.

She pulled from his lips reluctantly, her voice sounding frantic now that she was far away from Agent Stahl. “An ATF agent ran into me at the cemetery today. Had some questions for me.”

“Shite, who was it?” Chibs dared to ask, having the feeling he already knew the answer.

Y/N took a deep breath trying to calm her anxieties. “Agent Stahl…fucking bitch tried to push my buttons by asking me about my past…Gunner and some other shit. She was eager to mention your wife…and shit that happened in Belfast. Tried to show me mugshots and your criminal record. She left a freaking file with me and told me to take a look at it so I could learn all about you. She’s trying to make me crack and run my mouth. Pretty sure she thinks that if she makes me afraid of you then I’ll turn and give her enough to go after SAMCRO.”

Chibs clenched his jaw, shaking his head, his hold on Y/N tightening. “What’d ye say?”

“I told her I know nothing about what you were up to in Belfast. I know about your wife and am unbothered by it. I know nothing about SAMCRO. I told her all I do is suck your dick and open your beers…I got pretty graphic on that last detail.”

Chibs smirked at the comment, his hand wandering down her body to give her backside a squeeze he was unable to stop himself. “Aye, ye ain given me that privilege yet, Hen. Probably had to use yer imagination on that one, aye?”

She sighed, shaking her head at the comment though it did make a hint of smile cross her features. “I thought the lewd angle would unnerve her…I have the weirdest sense that it turned her on. Pretty sure I can spot a bisexual from a mile away.”

Chibs rose a brow at the information. He spoke, shaking his head at the comment. “Ye know I would rather hear bout ye gettin a woman hot and bothered if she wasn’t a Fed.”

“I know you would…sadly I’m telling you what I told her…pussy doesn’t do it for me the same way a dick does. I have no interest in muff diving anytime soon, sorry to break your heart.” She commented, not shocked by this line of conversation. He truly was a male through and through.

“Aye, can’t say I’m disappointed…I don’t like sharin.” He remarked, surprising her by the certainty in his voice.

He sighed his hand running up and down her back as he spoke again. “Did ye look at the record? My rap sheet?”

“Not really…She mentioned a bunch of crap you pulled in Belfast. Saw a mugshot of Fiona and you…Stahl loved shoving that in my face. She tried to coax me into looking into the entire file.” Y/N explained noticing the tension in Chibs’ body at the mention of his estranged wife and of Belfast.

He felt his throat grow tight as he spoke again knowing that there was nothing he regretted in that file she was discussing. He had to fear that Y/N might find some things she was not pleased to learn about him…especially during his time with the cause. “Wouldn’t care if ye wanted to look at the entire file…ye probably should know bout the lad yer datin.”

Y/N spoke so certain of the words that left her. “I know who I’m dating. I’m dating someone who has been so sweet and so protective of me right from the start. I’m dating someone who makes me laugh and as I recall eats me out like his life depends on it…which indicates he’s going to be pretty well versed in doing other things in the bedroom.”

She paused, pressing a kiss to his cheek catching the hitch in his breath at the mention of their bedroom activities. She spoke again, her voice soothing. “I’m dating a man who has known more pain than any human being should ever have to know, but still remains so strong and so compassionate. I’m dating a man who is loyal to his brothers and would do whatever it takes to protect what he believes in. I’m dating a guy who goes above and beyond to look out for me. He rushed all the way over here after I called him ranting about lamb like a nutcase…he offered to kill someone for me because he knows they caused me pain.”

She spotted his hold on her grew tighter at the mention of Gunner. She spoke once again, her lips pressing back to his cheek. “The man I’m dating has listened to me cry over my brother and my father on our first date and didn’t run screaming. He doesn’t care if my job scares the hell out of everyone. He treats me better than I ever believed I deserved. He proves to me each and every day that he wants me to be treated with all the adoration and security on the planet. He makes me feel safer than anyone has ever been capable of making me feel. I know just who I’m dating. I don’t need a criminal record to tell me a thing about him. I know who he is outside of shit he’s done.”

He sighed, his lips sliding along hers relief washing over him. She spoke as she pulled from the kiss her voice soft. “I don’t need a fucking ATF agent to tell me who I’m dating, because I know him better than she ever will.”

She spoke again, her voice firm. “I am not telling her shit. I’m sure it won’t be the last time she tries to press me over this. I know that ATF is up SAMCRO’s collective ass right now. I’m not telling her a thing though Filip.”

“Aye, I know, Hen. I trust ye. Ye did so good, Love. Fuckin gash doesn’ stand a chance with my lass.” Chibs praised her, the comment making Y/N preen somewhat. She was surprised by the feeling. She didn’t think she had a praise kink, but anything was possible.

He pressed a kiss to her lips he fast to speak again. “I want ye to keep tellin her the same thing, Hen. Ye don’t know shite. She ain’ got nothin on ye. She probably thought the fuckin life I was forced from in Belfast was some big secret I was keepin from ye.”

Y/N nodded her head knowing that was exactly what Stahl had been hoping for. She spoke a soft sigh leaving her. “She brought up the empty graves…Kept my story the same as always.”

“That’s my hen. Ye know yer in the clear on that mo ghràidh. Ye’d already be in handcuffs and been carted away if they had shite on that.” Chibs reassured her a sense of comfort washing over at at the words.

She knew he was right. It had been long enough. Lodi had left her alone and she had a feeling the ATF didn’t care about two empty graves when the local P.D. had failed to connect the dots between her, SAMCRO, and those bodies.

She had a feeling the ATF was more interested in the gun running that SAMCRO was secretly engaging in.

Any pressure Stahl was placing on her was to entice her into slipping up and saying something Chibs had told her in confidence. She knew that the agent was getting nothing from her.

Y/N would never betray the man she loved no matter how much Stahl irritated her and attempted to intimidate her.

She allowed her lips to slide along Chibs’ , the pair growing lost in the moment. She parted her lips from his knowing that there was only one thing she wanted at this moment that could make this day seem less awful. “I want you to take me to my room and love me so good that I forget all this crap.”

Chibs felt his heart rate increase at the comment, a warm flush of lust spreading throughout him. Was she offering what he hoped? “Aye, is that so? Are ye sure, Hen? Ye want it all?”

She nodded her head stunned at the realization of how badly she wanted this. She pressed her lips to his the kiss feather light before she spoke. “I am so sure. Take me to my room and love me Filip.”

He felt the moan leave his lips as she took his hands in hers leading him from the room to their destination.

He knew he had every intention of giving her what she was asking for.

He would give her anything. It was a realization he was quite content with.

#chibs telford #tommy flanagan #sons of anarchy #chibs sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs telford x reader #death and the lady #chapter twelve #sons of #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs #filip chibs telford

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wetcatspellcaster · 5 months

Note

You beautiful bitch, you’ve done it again!!

Latest chapter slapped, the ascendant being a LITERAL MONSTER is,,, so good for the vibes. Rose roasting him after a quick make out, the dragon dragoning, AND we got an indirect answer to the “Are there two Astarions??” Question.

So fucking good!!

Astarion’s projections being tossed back at him is *chefs kiss*.

Thank you for the update!!

Thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed it ~ !

The "so what's up with Astarion(s)" question will be elucidated further in future chapters, I promise x

#asks #lovely words from lovely people #wip: pieces still stuck in your teeth #spoilers #chapter twelve

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pendingfeels · 2 months

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The Mandalorian—

2.04 CHAPTER 12: THE SIEGE

#edit #edits #the mandalorian #baby grogu #grogu #din grogu #din djarin #the blue guy #wrestler chick #screencap #screenshots #screenshot #screencaps #pedro pascal #chapter twelve #moff gideon

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skeletonfumes · 1 year

Photo

Perry Mason (2020-)

#perry mason #perry mason hbo #matthew rhys #mygifs #gif #so many smoking gifs...im sorry #unconscious #jessica lowrey #chapter twelve #mood

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adsosfraser · 1 year

Text

Chapter Twelve ‘Teach a Lad to Fish’

Jamie woke slowly to a twitch in his nose and a damp, heavy presence resting solidly in the crook of his neck. His blurry eyes cracked open from his deep sleep and half his vision was obscured by the mop of curls responsible for the twitch in his nose. At each exhale from his body and hers, the sharp burst of air directed a minion from the delegation of the brown curly wig to attack him in the form of a tickle. Over the view of his attacker, he squinted at the cave surrounding them, his vision adjusting to the low light illuminating its walls. The fire had been snuffed out over the course of the night, leaving behind it only lingering embers and a small gathering of ash. Fergus wasn’t in his usual crumpled ball of towels and blankets, he wasn’t even in the cave. But, before Jamie’s heart could begin to race from worry, he heard what he thought were sticks suspiciously bouncing off of the airplane metal. The tail acting as the third wall of their shelter. The sound pinged off of the walls and echoed throughout to make the impact sound closer than it truly was.

Where the lad was concerned, Jamie decided it was better not to question things.

Read more on AO3

#jamie fraser #jamie x claire #claire fraser #outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #adsofraser writing #da mi diebus mille #modern au #fergus fraser #cheeseburger the chicken #chapter twelve #jamie and claire

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nowandajenn · 1 year

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Blue Christmas Twelve

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings. This is a work of FICTION. I do not claim to know Chris Evans, his family, friends, or anyone on his team personally.

Warnings for this chapter: light drug use, language, mentions of adultery.

February 16

Some surprises aren’t all bad. Like getting a day in the middle of February that’s almost 60 degrees. Even at almost 10pm, it’s still in the upper 40s, so I’m taking advantage and sitting on our front porch in the swing desperately trying to battle my nausea, which sprang up out of nowhere like a wrecking ball, determined to take me down.

I hear the door open and quickly stub out the joint and hide the rest of it on the bottom shelf of the little table next to me. Fuck, a lot of good that’s going to do since it reeks of pot out here, dumbass I think to myself.

“Kelly?”

I sigh in relief as I realize that it’s just Lisa. She closes the front door and walks over to where I’m sitting in her pajamas and slippers.

“Take a load off.” I say softly. I pull the blanket back so she can sit down and offer it back to her once she’s settled.

“Were you smoking weed out here?” she asks.

“What? No. Absolutely not.” I tell her, trying not to grin.

“Please. I raised four kids. I know what weed smells like. You’re busted.”

“Trying to combat the nausea. I don’t even get the relief of throwing up. I’m just stuck in that shitty state of feeling constantly nauseous where I’m like ‘God, either let me just throw up so I can feel better’. It’s awful.”

“I don’t miss that. The first four months I was pregnant with Chris, my head was in the toilet bowl.”

We sit for a few minutes, just enjoying the slight breeze and sway gently in the swing. It’s one of the few moments of absolute peace I feel like I’ve had in months. Plus, there’s something about Lisa that is just so damn comforting and warm that it’s impossible not to feel good in her presence.

“Have you told anyone else?” she asks softly, looking over at me.

I shake my head. “I just…..I don’t want anyone to know until I figure out….”

“This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. All that time we tried and we tried and nothing was happening…..I prayed so hard for it. It just seems like having it happen now….it’s like the universe is laughing at me.” I turn my body a bit to face her. “On one hand, I AM happy. I want to be excited and tell people and get my hopes up. I want Chris to be happy and know that he’s finally gonna get his wish and be a dad. But on the other….I’m terrified. Even if everything goes right and we have a healthy baby….what if Chris and I can’t make this work? Am I going to be a divorced mom shuttling my kid back and forth every weekend and splitting holidays?”

“Kel, I wish I could see the future so I could have all the answers for you and tell you that everything was going to work out. But I know this; even if, God forbid, you and Chris can’t work this out, I know for a fact that you both would do everything in your power to make sure that this baby would be so incredibly loved and protected. You will always be a part of each other’s lives. You two are so deeply intertwined with each other. I think you’re trying too hard to focus on the future and you’re imagining all these scenarios that may not even happen. And I know it’s hard not to do that. You’re a planner; it’s what you do. Don’t make this decision based on what might happen or what you’re scared of having happen. Make this decision based on what YOU feel is best for you. I know how scared you are of all the unknown, but you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, honey.”

Lisa opens her arms and I snuggle into her, letting the tears flow down my cheeks and into the woven fabric of the blanket. It’s a perfect mom hug.

A week later, Chris and I are in his Audi, navigating the morning rush as we make our way to our first marriage counseling appointment. My stomach has been in upheaval all morning long, and I can’t even totally blame it on morning sickness. I feel like this is the thing that’s going to make or break us, and the thought makes me break out into a cold sweat. I reach over and grab my cup of tea out of the cupholder and take a sip, making a face. I really wanted coffee, but I didn’t think that was going to help my stomach any.

Chris looks over at me and rubs my leg. “You okay?”

“I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

I almost want to laugh at the look of alarm he gives me. “Hold on, I’ll pull over.”

“No, I- I’m just nervous and anxious and…..it’s not doing my stomach any favors.”

Thirty minutes later, Chris pulls into a parking spot outside the nondescript brick building that our therapist’s office is housed in. He puts the car in park and exhales. It’s God Doesn’t Love You cold outside, and neither one of us are looking forward to getting out of the car.

“Should we wait?

It takes my brain a second to catch up with what he’s saying.

“I’d rather just go in there and get this started. If we wait, I’m just going to get more and more anxious and build it up to be this big monster of a thing and freak the fuck out. I just….I wanna get to work.”

“I know…I just don’t want you to stress out more than you already are. I know this is going to be decidedly not awesome in any way.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m nervous.” he says in a shaky voice.

“I know. But I honestly think…..as much as it’s going to fucking suck at first….I think it will be good in the long run. I think it will help. I’m just not really excited to rehash everything.”

Chris rubs his hand over his beard, mentally flogging himself for being such a fucking idiot. He reaches over and grabs my right hand and squeezes it. “I love you. I love you so damn much. Thank you for doing this with me. I don’t…..I don’t deserve you.”

I take a deep breath. “I love you too.”

I decide that I’m a little bit in love with our counselor about ten minutes into us sitting down with her. She’s younger than I thought she would be, and not at all what you would picture a marriage counselor to be like. Shelley Gray is a force of nature with smoky lavender hair, a blunt tell it like it is attitude, and an insanely cool office filled with interesting art and kick knacks. When we had set up the appointment, her office had emailed over a worksheet of sorts for Chris and I to fill out with basics about us, why we decided to start marriage counseling, and what we hope to achieve in the future. So, she pretty much has the broad strokes when we come in for our first session. She greets us both with a firm handshake and a friendly smile and invites us to take a seat on the insanely comfortable, squishy couch in her office.

“I’m in love with your office.” I blurt out, not able to help myself. “I’ve been in a lot of offices, and this is the most comfortable, cool, relaxed atmosphere I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you. My line of work can be really….harsh, for lack of a better term. It’s often really emotional and intimidating for the people that come to see me, so I wanted to kind of create a space that was relaxing and inviting. Why come into a space that’s cold and impersonal and then have to talk about hard things?”

She sits in the overstuffed blue armchair across from us and settles in, grabbing her notepad and folder off the table between us. “Let me start off by saying this. Everything you say in the space of this room is completely and strictly confidential and falls under doctor/patient confidentiality unless one of you tells me something that makes me think you might have intentions of hurting yourself or someone else. Secondly, as I said before, couples counseling can be harsh. Most people that come in here are talking about things that are uncomfortable and ugly and not great. What I ask is that you both allow yourselves to be completely honest and open when you’re here. Couples often times try and censor themselves in the company of their spouse or partner because they don’t want to upset or offend, and they feel like they don’t want to make things worse. Which is all completely understandable. But censoring yourself and not being honest isn’t going to help anything. You’re just shoving metaphorical crap into the closet and not dealing with it. My job is to help you guys the best I can to deal with all the bad stuff and work through it without killing each other.”

Chris and I both blow out a harsh breath at the same time, and it makes Dr. Gray smile. We start the session by dipping a toe in and the both of us giving her a little bit of insight into us as individuals and our relationship.

“Okay, so now that I have a bit of background on you guys, let’s jump into why you decided to come see me. I know you guys filled out your pre appointment worksheet, but those aren’t going to give me the full picture of what’s going on.” She looks between both of us and notices that we’ve both stiffened up and look uncomfortable and I look like I’m about to cry.

“Okay, let’s start a little smaller.” she says, turning towards me. “Kelly, you look like you got a bit banged up. What happened?”

I look down at my left arm that’s still in the hinged brace and the walking boot on my foot. “I was in a pretty bad car accident right after the first of the year. I’m still kind of….getting back to normal. Whatever that means.” I shrug.

“How did it happen?”

“I was coming back from the airport. It was really early in the morning, and I was really tired and just wanted to get home. In hindsight, I should have just called an Uber or something, but who the hell knows if that would have made a difference. The guy that hit me was coming off of working 3rd shift and fell asleep at the wheel. I survived, but he didn’t. And that…..I’m still trying to figure out how to process that.”

Chris turns to me. “I saw the car.”

My eyes go round. “What? When?”

“When you were still in the hospital. I went for a drive with Dodger to calm down and try and decompress, and I ended up at the junkyard they towed it to. Seeing how hurt you were….and then seeing what the car looked like…..I don’t know how the hell you survived that.” I see his eyes get glassy with tears, and he looks up quickly to try and keep them from falling.

“I went to Chicago. That’s….that’s why I was coming back from the airport. That’s why I was on the road at that ungodly hour.” I say quickly. It’s the first time I’ve openly admitted that. We both know that’s where I went, but neither of us said anything about it out loud.

“What was in Chicago?” Dr. Gray asks.

I close my eyes and try my best to steel myself for this. This is it. It’s like a wound. It’s ugly and bloody and painful and you think that it’s going to start healing after a while, but then you find out there’s an infection festering in there. So then you have to cut it open and get all the rot out so you can finally, maybe get back to some semblance of normal.

“The woman that I slept with.” Chris says, almost choking on the words. Yeah, no matter how many times I hear that, it still feels like a sledgehammer right to the gut. Somehow, when it’s in my brain, I can compartmentalize a little bit. But when it’s said out loud? All bets are off. I grab the pink shag throw pillow next to me and squeeze the life out of it. My eyes start burning and I can feel my chest start to tighten up.

“Kelly? Are you okay?”

I squeeze my eyes shut against the burn and shake my head. I know if I try and open my mouth, something embarrassing is going to come out. Vomit or a loud wail. “You’re okay. Take all the time you need.”

Fucking hell. How did we get here? How? How? How?

“I can’t remember the last time I was okay.” I sob out, desperately trying to get the words out between tears and snot and hiccups. I’ve spent so much time trying to just HANDLE all of the shit that’s been piled on one right after another and deal with it and not break down, and it’s just all of the sudden TOO FUCKING MUCH.

“I’m so fucking mad. I’m mad about everything. I’m mad that my husband cheated on me. I’m mad that he didn’t tell me right away even though I KNEW something was wrong.” I swing my gaze to Chris. “I KNOW YOU. I know your tells. I knew something was wrong, and I asked you about it over and over and you said everything was fine, when I knew that was a load of shit. I’m mad that I’m in pain every single day and I don’t know if it’s going to get better. I’m mad that I’m pregnant and I can’t go more than two hours without feeling like I’m going to puke up my stomach lining.”

At this point, I’m red in the face and breathing heavily, and Chris is looking at me like I’m about to shed my skin and turn into a man eating dragon at any second. Dr. Gray pushes a box of tissues towards me and I grab a handful to wipe off the tears and snot. Suddenly, my stomach lets out a tremendously loud growl, and that just adds to my embarrassment. “Fucks sake.” I mumble. I skipped breakfast because I was too nauseous.

The good doctor gets up and walks over to her desk, pulling open a drawer. I’m expecting that she’s going to fire us because one half of us is obviously insane and snotting all over her throw pillow, and I bury my face in my hands.

“Here.” I look up and see her handing me a snack size package of chewy Chips Ahoy cookies. I look up at her with teary eyes. “I don’t always remember to take breaks for actual meals so I keep snacks in the office so I can just graze all day. And for moments like this.” I take the cookies gratefully and rip open the package, immediately shoving one in my mouth.

I take a deep breath as I chew, trying to calm myself down. Great, session one and I’m already a basket case. This is going swimmingly. I sigh heavily and look up at the good doctor, who I’m already planning on putting in the will for just the cookies alone. “I swear I’m not crazy.” I say softly, rolling my eyes at myself because isn’t that what all crazy people always say anyway?

She chuckles out loud. “No, I don’t think you are. I think you’ve had a hell of a lot of crazy stuff happen to you in a really short amount of time. And if anyone could deal with all of that piled on them and not have a breakdown every now and then because of it, I’d really be concerned.”

I turn to Chris. “I left for Chicago after we had that god awful conversation at the house. You know….for some reason, I had it in my head that if I could go and I could just see her and put a face to this mystery woman who kind of came in and bulldozed everything, it would help me start taking the first steps towards….I don’t know….working on dealing with it and….coming to terms with it? I don’t know, I feel like I’m not saying it right. So, I went back through my texts where you mentioned where you were staying in Chicago and I flew there and I checked in, and I almost chickened out of the whole thing. I mean, I flew all the way to fucking Chicago to confront the woman that my husband slept with. Is that a sane, rational thing to do? But I got dressed up, had dinner, and then went to the bar for a drink. And there she was. Jo. And she had no idea who I was until I showed her the picture on my phone of you and I. And I’ve never seen someone turn so white they were almost transparent. I would have laughed, but I was so sick to my stomach…..I said what I had to say, then I went back to my room and I threw up for two hours.”

“Did seeing her and confronting her help, do you think?” Dr. Gray asks.

“I don’t know. I mean, it didn’t change anything, really. I could just put a face to her. And in hindsight, if I had known what was going to happen to me on the way home, I would have just stayed here and been happy wondering forever I think.”

She closes her notebook and looks at both of us appraisingly. “Well, we certainly have a lot of work ahead of us in the coming sessions, but you guys are both tough, and I think we’re all up for the challenge. I’m going to give you guys a workbook that you’re going to work on together. Some of it is for you each separately, and some of it is for you to answer together. Pick a time every week where you can sit down, uninterrupted and work on it. It can be a fun bonding exercise. Every week when you come see me, I’m going to give you a homework assignment to complete before you come see me again. If it doesn’t work out for whatever reason, don’t worry. There’s no pass or fail. All that matters is that you try. The first assignment is that I want you guys to have a date night. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. It can just be cooking dinner together at home and wearing something nice. Whatever you decide to do. You don’t have to talk about any of the hard stuff, just have a nice time, together for a few hours. Try and put all of the baggage out of your minds for that period of time and just focus on being together, and how you feel when you’re with each other. Deal?”

Chris and I nod. “We can do that.”

When we leave, I make Chris stop at McDonalds because the cookies only sated my hunger for about half an hour before my stomach was protesting again. When we pull up to the house, I’m still shoving fries in my mouth when I notice a rental car parked outside.

“We weren’t expecting anyone to come by right? I don’t recognize the car.” I mumble through my food.

“Not that I know of. Nobody texted me.” Chris says.

We get out of the car and head inside and I almost drop the bag of food when I hear a voice I haven’t heard in person for about eight months talking and laughing with Lisa.

“Holy shit. You’re here! How? When?” I squeal as my best friend Katie comes over and squeezes me as hard as she dares without hurting me. “I know you told me over and over not to fly all the way out here and just wait until I was due to come home anyway, but I couldn’t just sit on the other side of the world while you were here, going through all this stuff. FaceTiming just wasn’t cutting it.”

“She showed up about 45 minutes ago. I didn’t even know she was coming.” Lisa told us.

“You hid the knives right? All the sharp objects? Rat poison? Anything she could use to murder me?” Chris asks his mom, who rolls her eyes.

“You and I are going to have a conversation later that you’re not going to enjoy. So I’m going to let you sit here and squirm while you imagine how THAT’S going to go, while I take my best friend and catch up with her.” Katie says, pointing at Chris. He’ll never openly admit it, but he’s lowkey terrified of her and I find it hilarious.

She and I head upstairs to the guest bedroom to get her settled and Chris turns to Lisa. “Did she say how long she’s here for?” he asks. Lisa shrugs. “Undetermined. But I would do my best to stay on her good side, because even I can’t save you from her.”

"You're fucking kidding." Katie splutters as she wipes off the remnants of the mouthful of wine she just spit all over herself.

I shake my head. "Authentic no shit situation. According to my OB, about nine weeks at this point. Which, on top of everything else, is kind of blowing my mind."

"Yeah, I fucking bet. I can't believe you didn't tell me before now!" She rolls her eyes as she takes another guzzle of wine. "I can't believe you let him fuck you with his slut boy penis, especially after he told you that he fucked someone else and you were essentially living with your brother."

I make a face. "Listen, it was.....I don't want to say it was a mistake, but it was. But it wasn't. I was here looking for a dress, and he came home, and then things happened....and yeah. I'm still trying to decide if I should burn the dining room table."

"The table? Nice. That being said, I'll be taking all my meals at the breakfast bar."

I grab a pillow and toss it on her lap and lay down with my legs stretched out. "I'm trying to imagine having a baby right now. If you had told me three months ago that I was pregnant, I would have peed my pants from excitement. But right now I'm scared shitless."

"It's a lot. And I know you. You're going through every single scenario in your head and the worst case scenarios are the ones that are lit up in your head like a neon sign." I hate that she knows me so well.

"I want to be a mom. I want this baby. I just don't want them to grow up and end up being shuffled around between houses every other week and splitting holidays. And I know....there's a good possibility that might not happen. But it might. Nobody knows. And then you throw in the fact that I'm terrified about something happening to the baby...."

"Let me tell you something. As much as I fucking hate Chris right now and want to give him a one two combo to the throat and dick, I know this about him. IF, and that's a big IF, something did happen and you guys end up not together, I know for a fact that you guys would be the most normal coparents in history. Neither one of you would ever make that kid spend a single holiday without the other one, because you will love them so much that you'd be willing to put everything else aside. I know this."

I sigh and close my eyes.

Three days later, while Chris is on a business call, I manage to find that box that's been shoved on the top shelf of my side of the closet for the past two years. There's a thin film of dust on the top of the wrapping paper, which I wipe off gently. I bite my lip and close my eyes, imagining in perfect detail the contents of the box, even though I haven't seen them since the day I wrapped the box.

Chris is in the kitchen on his cell phone, pacing back and forth through the kitchen, living room, and dining room. I get tired just watching him. I put the box on the kitchen table and take a seat, waiting for him to finish up his call.

"Hey, are you okay? You look kind of green." he says, walking in and slipping his phone in his pocket.

"Yeah, I'm just....stomach is kinda...." I trail off. "Come sit down."

He sits in the chair next to me and I tap my fingers on the side of the box.

"Uh....So I've had this hidden in the closet for two years. I've been doing a lot of thinking....and.....well, open it." I tell him.

"Is it a head?" He asks with a smirk.

"Damn it, you got me. Be careful. After two years, that thing is going to be RIPE."

He rips off the wrapping paper, lifts the lid, and looks up at me. "Kelly...." he breathes. I wipe a tear away with my knuckle as he digs in the box. There's a tiny newborn baby onesie that has ducks all over it, a white one that says "Hello Daddy", a soft stuffed rattle that bears a vague resemblance to Dodger, and a white envelope. He rips open the envelope, and lets out a soft sob when he reads the front of the card.

"I wish that you could have found out like this instead of almost passing out in my doctor's office, but I thought this could be how I told you that I decided that as scared as I am, and how crazy this whole thing is, I want to have this baby with you. And I want us to rock this marriage counseling thing and become the Chris and Kelly that we've always been meant to be."

He stands up from his chair and helps me up, then wraps me in a huge hug. I can feel his tears dripping onto my shoulder, and it makes me cry too. "Thank you." Chris whispers. "You keep giving me these amazing gifts that I can never come close to deserving, and I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you too. Daddy."

@what-is-your-plan-today @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @spectre-posts @jtargaryen18 @caffiend-queen @theladybiers @supersquirrel1996 @alexakeyloveloki @before-we-get-started @smediumsmeatbae @syms-things-5

#blue christmas #chapter twelve #chris evans #chris evans x wife reader #chris evans x kelly evans #marriage counseling #angst #this is gonna get harder before it gets easier #pregnancy #we're having a baby

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redux-iterum · 11 months

Text

Burning Hearts: Chapter Twelve

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Camp was mute and miserable that night.

Nearly mute, really, because Frostfur’s voice came from the nursery on and off, muffled and yet echoing in the quiet of the clearing. Questions like “Why would StarClan allow this?!” and “How can my kits grow up without their father?!”, as Goldenflower’s own grieving voice tried to soothe her in between shuddering, weeping breaths. Tigerclaw sat outside of the nursery, looking to the hollow den with sorrowful eyes and folded-back ears.

“And we don’t even have a body to bury,” Sandstorm murmured to Dustpelt as they sat together by the stump, the prey at their feet completely untouched. “Or any idea of who did it, so we can pay them back in kind.”

Dustpelt shook his head, just as quietly answering, “It wouldn’t do any good. It’s not going to bring him back.”

Sandstorm’s eyes lowered to the ground. “It’d make Frostfur feel better.”

Dustpelt didn’t answer. He just shut his own eyes tightly.

Fireheart looked around camp; everyone else had their heads bowed or was huddled on the ground. Patchpelt was whispering something that sounded like a prayer while Cinderpaw sat with Yellowfang, unusually subdued. Some cats looked to the center of camp, an empty space of sand where a body should be, before hanging their heads again.

Fireheart himself was on one side of Greystripe, with Ravenwing on the other, both leaning against their friend as he crouched, stone-still and with empty eyes. He had not spoken a word since they’d found Lionface’s fur and blood, walking home as if in a dream, not responding to anything his friends said, or even to their weight on his sides. His very breaths were near-imperceptible. Fireheart didn’t know what to do.

It was startling when there finally was movement—Bluestar came from somewhere behind Yellowfang and walked with slow, quiet steps to the nursery. Tigerclaw looked up as she came up to him and murmured something in his ear. His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed again. After a moment, he nodded and whispered something back to her. She blinked slowly and turned away, heading back to where she’d come, except turning to jump onto the stump. One by one, the rest of the Clan looked up, though only a few cats got up to gather around the stump and listen properly. Tigerclaw murmured something into the nursery and Goldenflower slowly crept out, her eyes wet and dull.

“What I would give to know where he is,” Bluestar said quietly, seemingly to herself. She lifted her chin and raised her voice. “Tonight, as difficult as it is, we must say goodbye to a friend, a father, and an excellent deputy. Lionface, I can’t say why you were in the Houses, and I can’t imagine what your last moments were like. I can say that ThunderClan feels your loss from the tips of our whiskers to the ends of our tails. You were an excellent deputy, always working in service of the Clan’s safety and honor. Your kits will hear your story and be honored that you were their father, even if you didn’t get to see them leave the nursery for the first time. I’m sorry we cannot bury you in your home, where you deserve to rest. All we can do is pray for your soul to make it safely to StarClan, and for you to hear and approve my choice of your successor.”

Her eyes went to Tigerclaw, and she continued. “I have just spoken with Tigerclaw, and he has accepted my offer for him to become ThunderClan’s next deputy.”

Slow and sad though they were, ripples of approval and congratulation spread through camp. Goldenflower pulled herself out further and bumped her head on Tigerclaw’s shoulder, though she barely had it in her to purr. Fireheart stood up, his tail wanting to be high but barely managing to level out over the ground.

Bluestar continued. “If I have volunteers, I’d like to put together a patrol tomorrow for investigation. Yellowfang, StarClan spoke with you and said he is gone for certain, as you told me.”

A concurring cough from the old seer. “And they also told me that we won’t find him, but we’ll know what happened.”

“That is what I aim to find out.” Bluestar nodded to her and addressed the Clan again. “I will be around camp for the rest of tonight. Let us all pray for Lionface and those he left behind, and let our hearts heal as he becomes a star in the sky.”

With that, she left her post. Fireheart made his way over to the nursery, where Tigerclaw looked away from Goldenflower, half-in the nursery again, to him and flicked an ear in greeting.

“Congratulations on becoming deputy,” Fireheart said quietly. He made an effort to curl his tail. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Tigerclaw’s eyes brightened a bit and he gave Fireheart a slow blink. “Thank you.”

Goldenflower managed another soft, broken-up purr as she looked up fondly at her mate. “You’ll make us proud, love.”

“I’ll do my best,” Tigerclaw said, bending his head to touch his nose to her cheek. “Do you want me to get Speckletail to stand guard for you?”

Goldenflower shook her head. “I can come out in a moment. Brindleface is with Frostfur. I just need to make sure she’s calmed down.”

Tigerclaw lowered his chin, eyes losing their light. “Please let her know I’m sorry.”

Goldenflower dimmed entirely herself, and backed into the nursery. Faint whispers floated out of the den’s opening.

“I hope she’ll be okay,” Fireheart said, ears back. He looked up at Tigerclaw, small and lost. “Do you think—”

“Greystripe?”

He looked back to where he had been sitting and found an empty space. Greystripe was stalking away, heading straight for the entrance of camp, Ravenwing tailing him.

“Where are you going?” Ravenwing asked, but Greystripe didn’t even twitch his tail. If anything, his steps quickened. Ravenwing slowed to a stop as the tabby pushed through the entrance of camp and disappeared into the dark.

Fireheart looked up at Tigerclaw, who gave him a nod, and then trotted up to Ravenwing, head tilted.

“He didn’t even give a warning,” Ravenwing said, feet shuffling. “He just got up and started walking. Should– should we go after him?”

Fireheart considered this for a moment, eyes on where Greystripe had gone. “I think he needs a moment alone.”

Ravenwing looked at him, his eyes wide with anxiety. “Are you sure? What if– what if…”

Fireheart purred soothingly, and gradually Ravenwing relaxed, enough to let out a breath.

“I don’t feel right, not doing anything to help him,” he admitted, so quietly that Fireheart almost didn’t hear him.

Fireheart stood a little closer and matched his volume, if a bit louder. “Once in a while, doing nothing is helping.”

Ravenwing opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded. Another sigh escaped him, before he perked up a bit and looked at Fireheart again. “Maybe we can go back to the Houses tomorrow? Help out that way?”

“I’m game.” Fireheart looked over at Bluestar, who was sitting with Whitecloud, murmuring something to him. “I really ought to anyway, I know that place better than anyone.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tigerclaw’s amber eyes flickered. When he looked, though, Tigerclaw was looking down into the nursery again.

---

As it happened, Ravenwing and Fireheart were the first volunteers the next night, with Sandstorm, Dustpelt, Mousefur, and Teaselfoot being the others. They were split up into pairs and ordered to search around the Houses for any trace of Lionface. Fireheart, to his alarm, was given the order to direct the other pairs on where to go. Sandstorm and Dustpelt did not look too pleased about this, but they said nothing beyond an indistinct grumble from Sandstorm.

Dustpelt was quick to recover, though, and briskly asked, “So where do we go?”

Fireheart looked out of the forest’s border, where they had convened, and hummed in thought, scrambling in his mind for any good response. “Well… well, uh, there’s a road this way, and it has a couple other roads attached to it.”

“Like a branch?” Mousefur prompted.

Fireheart nodded, thankful. “Ravenwing and I, we know where the scent was. We can check that street together. We might have to talk to some kittypets, if there are any witnesses.”

Teaselfoot and Sandstorm made faces, Sandstorm’s more severely disgusted.

“I can do that,” Fireheart said quickly. “Some of them know me. I think cats as big as all of you would scare them.”

“Then what do we do?” Teaselfoot asked.

Fireheart found one idea and cleared his throat. “I think, um, we can head down the road and see if we find anything of interest on any of the other streets. Then we can split up as we need to.”

Thankfully, this seemed to sate everyone. Ravenwing gave him an encouraging blink, which he returned, before turning and starting off at a trot.

The warriors of ThunderClan were unusually quiet; when Fireheart looked back as they stepped onto the road, they were all looking around nervously, their tails low to the ground and Sandstorm’s hair rising along her back. Ravenwing didn’t look much better, scuttling along close to Fireheart like the shorter tom could protect him. Fireheart elected not to comment and continued walking, concealing a snort with a cough.

Mousefur was the first to comment, following a deep sniff with, “This place smells like kittypets.”

“You figure?” Sandstorm asked dryly.

“It’s just a weird smell, is all,” Mousefur replied, sniffing again. “Blech. Like human and dried-out prey.”

“That’d be kibble,” Fireheart said. “Cats eat well here.”

Dustpelt wrinkled his nose. “Is ‘kibble’ what you call those rabbit pellets you eat?”

“Ate.”

“Ate, whatever.” Dustpelt swiped his tail. “You knew what I meant.”

He’s nervous here, Fireheart reminded himself. He’s bound to be a little crankier with you than usual.

Cheerfully, he said aloud, “It was for some of us. Some cats got wet food, which is really just worse-tasting meat. If you pass by the right house, it’ll smell a little like RiverClan.”

“What’s the kibble made of, then, to make it smell like that?” Teaselfoot asked. “I can’t imagine it’s the same thing.”

“I have no idea,” Fireheart admitted. “Just that it was serviceable at best. Oh—”

He stopped as he turned his head. The dark blue house stood imposingly at the corner. Pointing with his tail, he said, “Down this street is where we found the… the fur and blood. We should start there.”

“And what do we do next?” Sandstorm gave Fireheart a slight narrowing of the eyes. “We can’t all sniff the same spot.”

Fireheart’s confidence plummeted immediately. Scrambling again for an idea, he said, “Well, maybe one pair can go further down the street and another can check the area where the blood was. I think me and Ravenwing can speak to any kittypets and find witnesses.”

The warriors all looked at each other, then to Fireheart. He restrained a sigh of relief when they all nodded. He wasted no time in turning the corner and emerging onto the street. It was still cluttered with wet leaves, and garbage cans were out against the sidewalk—but, thankfully, empty of any disruptive stinks.

Even better, Fireheart’s nose caught a familiar scent as the wind blew behind him.

Quickly, he came to the dreadful spot of fur and blood, and said to everyone, “This is it.”

Mousefur came forward, inspecting with her eyes and nose. She shut her eyes painfully and sighed. “Yeah, that’s him.”

There was a moment of silence as the other cats went one at a time to smell and hang their heads, stepping away.

Fireheart nodded towards the end of the street, where the houses weren’t squeezed against each other as hard. “Teaselfoot and Mousefur, would you mind checking down there for any clues? And, er, Sandstorm and Dustpelt, if you could sniff around here, I’d appreciate it. I mean, it’d help.”

No one protested, though Sandstorm folded her ears back. Teaselfoot and Mousefur trotted off down the street, while Dustpelt moved across the street, his nose to the ground, and Sandstorm circled around the remnants of Lionface in search of a trail. Fireheart, meanwhile, signaled to Ravenwing to follow him and half-ran for the corner of the street, just as Smudge turned the corner.

“I thought—” Smudge started, but as Fireheart gestured for him to hush, he lowered his voice. “I thought I saw you amongst all those brutes. What’s going on?”

“We’re investigating,” Fireheart said, hushed. “We’re hoping to find any clues about where our deputy went. Well… where his body went.”

Ravenwing dipped his head quickly to Smudge. “Do you know anything?”

Smudge shook his head sadly. “I just saw Fireheart and came to say hi.”

“Well, you came right on time,” Fireheart whispered. “Just pretend– I don’t want to hear it from everyone that I’m talking with my friend from the Houses. Just act like you live on this street and didn’t see anything.”

Smudge nodded, then his ears pricked. “Actually, I didn’t see anything, but I know a couple cats on this street who might have. Want help talking to them?”

“That’d be great.” Fireheart beckoned with his tail and turned for the closest house.

Ravenwing raised his voice, speaking casually—or about as casually as he was capable of. “And how many cats live here?”

Smudge sounded much more relaxed. “Well, not as many as you’re hoping. I’d check that porch there first.”

As Fireheart had expected, the ThunderClan cats looked up and squinted at the kittypet. Smudge shrank back a bit, but returned to his strolling pace. He led the way to the porch, which Ravenwing stopped at the stairs of, leaving Fireheart and Smudge to climb it and approach the screen door.

“Good thing the main door’s open,” Smudge muttered, then raised his voice. “Mr. Wildcat? Are you in there?”

“Who’s this again?” Fireheart asked.

“An old fellow that used to be feral,” Smudge said. “He can’t go outside now, so he sits there in the window all day and watches the world go by. At least, that’s what I know. Ahem– Mr. Wildcat! Hello?”

Silence. Then, faintly, wheezy breaths. Through the screen, Fireheart caught a massive mound of red-brown fur plodding out of the mess inside of the house.

“H’lo?” the tom rasped.

Smudge looked at Fireheart, and the ginger tom took the lead, calling, “Good evening, sir!”

Somewhere behind him, Sandstorm scoffed.

“Oh…” The tom shuffled up to the screen, peering through it with rheumy eyes and faded pupils. “Evening. How… can I help you?”

Fireheart wasn’t sure how deaf this tom was, but with the myopic blinking and swiveling of the greying ears, he decided to play it safe and spoke loudly. “I was wondering if you saw anything unusual in the past day or so. I’m looking for a friend of mine—a very big, golden tom with a mane. Did you happen to see him?”

The old tom paused, his mouth half-open as if he couldn’t figure out his words. Smudge fidgeted, but Fireheart waited patiently until he rumbled a breath and leaned forward.

“Big, golden tom?” he rasped.

“Yes, sir,” Fireheart said. His nose twitched—something beneath the taint of human soap smelled familiar on this cat. The thickly-meshed screen made it difficult to see him properly, but Fireheart thought his face was rather familiar, too, though he couldn’t place where he’d seen it before.

“Forgive me… son,” Mr. Wildcat wheezed. “My eyes, they’re terrible these days. All I see are shapes now. But… big and golden… I caught a sight of that.”

Fireheart’s heart jumped. Behind him, soft pawsteps ascended the porch. “What else did you see? Where he went?”

“Ah… I didn’t see him leave.” The tom shuddered with a cough. “Two shapes, or a rather big one… black-and-white. Heard something, too. Yowls. Didn’t see the fight, but… heard it just fine. Yowling, yowling.”

Fireheart forced himself to stay calm. “Did you see after the fight?”

“Just that golden shape. Didn’t move for a long time.”

Fireheart exchanged a dreading look with Smudge. His stomach sank into his toes as he said to Mr. Wildcat, “Anything else?”

The tom sighed creakily. “That’d be it. Went to bed soon after. Is that… what you wanted?”

“That will be enough,” Fireheart said sadly. “Thank you, sir. Sorry to bother you so late at night.”

“No trouble, son, none at all.” The tom leaned forward a little, peering curiously at Fireheart, and sniffed wetly. “Nose is poor, too. Ah, well. Thought you… smelled familiar. Good night.”

Fireheart watched him turn away, and at a side profile, his head-shape reminded Fireheart of…

Huh.

“He looks a bit like your friends down there,” Smudge whispered. “Wonder if he knew them.”

“Yeah…” Fireheart said distantly, his mind whirling. He barely noticed Ravenwing walking back down the steps with them. His mind circled around that last description.

‘Didn’t move for a long time’.

“You better go,” Fireheart said quietly to Smudge. “Thank you for helping. Sorry we couldn’t really talk.”

“And I’m sorry you lost a friend like that.” Smudge nodded and started for the main road again, waving his tail.

“You speak loud enough for the whole place to hear you,” Teaselfoot said, approaching Fireheart as he watched Smudge go. “Find anything good?”

Fireheart waited until the other ThunderClan cats were closer before saying unhappily, “He’s definitely dead. Two rogues killed him. There was a fight here.”

Silence. Mousefur shut her eyes again and leaned against her brother as he hung his head. Sandstorm bared her teeth like she was in pain, and Dustpelt let out a sad breath. Ravenwing shivered violently.

“Any chance the body’s still around?” Teaselfoot said, the faintest light of hopefulness in his voice.

Fireheart spoke gently like he was addressing a kit. “I don’t think so. Humans clean up dead animals pretty quickly around here. Squirrels, birds… cats. If they didn’t take him away, a dog might have.”

Teaselfoot looked down again, crestfallen.

“That’d explain the dog smell I caught over there,” Dustpelt said, looking across the street. “It’s thick, not far from the… well, what passes as remains.”

Mousefur heaved a sigh. “Then I guess our business is done here. Fireheart, lead us out?”

Fireheart nodded and started off at a rather quick walk, half-hoping to outpace his thoughts. Ravenwing kept up with him easily, though the others seemed content to lag behind a bit.

“I saw that cat,” Ravenwing whispered to Fireheart, his head at the right position to speak in his ear. “I mean, through that lichen, or whatever it was.”

“He thought he knew me,” Fireheart murmured back. “And I thought I knew him. But I’ve never really had a conversation with cats down that street.”

“Don’t… don’t think I’m crazy, but…” Ravenwing’s eyes darted behind them before he continued, whispering even lower. “He kind of looked like ThunderClan, didn’t he?”

Fireheart blinked. “He did, actually. That’s it. The face looked like any of our warriors’ faces. And he smelled a bit like the forest.”

“Curious,” Ravenwing muttered, almost to himself. “Very curious.”

Fireheart didn’t respond. He kept walking, his mind settling again on the old tom’s words.

‘Didn’t move’, he thought. StarClan, if you’re kind, please… don’t let his body be in the trash somewhere. He deserves better.

‘Deserved,’ his mind hissed back.

Fireheart squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing, and wished the rain was here to drown out his thoughts.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #chapter #chapter twelve #book two #arc one #burning hearts

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