Chapter Text
The California Bears founded ten years ago in a run down loft; the founding twelve members were all marked with a bear paw tattoo on the right side of their neck. The Armenian mob endorsed the making of the club. It was their one way ticket into the drug business of California; bring a young, ambitious twenty-two year old biker born kid into their pockets and they took control of the guns and drug trafficking that occurred within Los Angeles.
The mob kept the trails buried deep enough that the feds could never trace them to the club and the Bears to the Armenians and so they had gotten away with it for years. But in recent times, the head of the Armenians had grown greedy and now, now he wanted one thing. All the gun trafficking linked to the true IRA wiped off the map so he became the sole distributor to the entire west coast.
There was no love lost between the president of the Bears and the Sons of Anarchy, the IRAs American ties.
Sitting on the edge of the pool, head titled back towards the warm California sun, a beer warming in one and a knife in the other, Chris swung his legs lazily through the water.
A handful of sweetbutts were swimming about the pool while his boys lounged round here and there, relaxing after their last run to San Fran with the newest pure pink shipment. He'd lost two guys on the run.
The north California Sons had somehow gotten wind of the run and ambushed them halfway back home. Unfortunately, the Bears hardware was hardly up to the standards of the Sons. It was dated and the Armenians hadn't given them anything new for a year, telling them they had to make do for the time.
Chris had argued that they couldn't run protection or keep up the reputation the Bears had without the equipment that could cement themselves as top dogs.
"We're gonna need better hardware, boss, and fast." His VP appeared at his side, crouching down whilst watching the sweetbutts play.
Chris grunted and drew his legs out of the water, leaning forward on them. "I know. Movsesian won't give us any though, says we got to make do with what we have for now. Unless we steal the hardware, we ain't getting any better than we have."
He had always been considered young for president standards, but Movsesian had chosen him because of his blood, because of who his family had been. Chris ran his club well, they only five charters in total and they were spread carefully down the coastline; placed in areas that made their trafficking of pure pink much smoother.
He liked having charters close to each other, in case shit went down and one charter needed more bodies.
"Steal from the Sons?"
Chris nodded. The subject was touchy. Chris' mother had been an Old Lady to a Son – once upon a
time. Some father he'd been. Robert Cardiff had hardly cared about what that mark on his mother's shoulder had meant he'd knocked some coloured croweater up when he'd been four and his mother had uprooted them and left Charming not long after that.
He'd never taken his father's name legally, though it was what everyone referred to him as; behind his back – the bastard son of a disgraced Son.
Christ, he'd sworn he wouldn't have anything to do with the Sons on his mother's sick bed. His mother would smack him across the back of the head if she knew he was planning on rolling back into Charming to start a gun war with the Sons.
He'd never tried, or wanted, to prospect a Son charter; it was why he'd jumped at the chance to found the Bears when the Armenians had raided the failing Cravens clubhouse. He'd stepped up first to take that tattoo and it was that had made Varak appoint him President despite everyone else having a good seven years on him in age.
The drug runs were good for money, the whores were some of the best to be found and the pink was even more addictive than normal crank.
The Sons kept their town clean, he'd heard the stories – that they let things happen around Charming but nothing was to be dealt directly in the township itself.
His father had taken a bullet to the gut some years ago now. No surprise there. You lived, breathed and died for your club. Chris was still loathed that he hadn't been the one to pull that trigger; let the bastard pay for doing what he'd done.
"What choice do we have? We need the guns; Movsesian won't give them to us. Can't do runs if we're going to keep losing me – if we hit 'em hard and quick, then we'll be fine," he replied with a crooked smirk. "But Movsesian wants to send them a message first – pricks hit one of the trucks heading south last week. They got a charter in Tacoma we've had them under surveillance since they hit the truck. There's a girl there; Varak wants to send them a message not to mess with our runs but wants the girl to be the message – not a Son, just the girl."
He knew better than to directly hit a Son and besides, this would hurt more. Hurt the girl, hurt the club, make it known that they weren't as untouchable as they'd like to believe.
"Who are we going to send?"
He glanced across at where his Sgt. At Arms was standing by the bar.
"Send Mackie, tell him to take two others and make sure they get proof of it. Don't care how but I need proof to send to Movsesian."
Rusty nodded, straightening up and heading for the Sgt. At Arms.
A blonde sweetbutt swam over to him, her smile coy as she reached round to stoke his leg. He grinned at her. "Coming to swim, boss?"
"Now how could I refuse such a beautiful woman," he teased back, setting his beer down before sliding into the water to join the leggy blonde.
Happy watched her. She sat on the hospital bed; hair a wreck – bits pulled and ripped out here and there, tangles bunching up sections, her make-up smeared horribly and her body rolling in violent trembles. The doctor said she was and probably would be in shock for some time, told him they'd given her some light sedatives to ease her nerves. They'd shoved a prescription into his hands, a pile of clothes for her to change into and left.
He'd caught the look of disgust directed at him and prayed for the doctor to say something that would set him right off. After the past few hours, he was coiled tight and ready to strike at the first thing he could.
Without speaking, he grabbed the chair from the corner of the sterile, chilly room and placed it down in front of her.
She startled as he eased down onto it; clothes and prescription in his lap as he propped his hands on either side of her. He gave her the smallest of smiles. Hazel eyes brightened slightly but the trembling and fear didn't ease in her.
After what she'd just endured first in the attack and all the exams they'd done to her, Happy didn't fault her for being both terrified and shaky.
In all the years they'd known one another Happy had only seen her in half this mess once; he hadn't liked it then and he decidedly liked it even less now given the circumstances of her being here.
"Anything I can do, Rae?" he pressed. "Water?" She shook her head, eyes dropping to her lap as her arms wrapped tightly about her stomach. "How 'bout a pillow?" Another refusal. "What about a cookie?" He chuckled at his own question.
Her eyes glanced at him from beneath her lashes and he caught the barest spark of amusement in those puppies. "I'm not hungry," she murmured, "thanks though."
He nodded, pleased that she was at least speaking to him finally. Silence fell again. Happy just watched her as she tried to collect herself, steel herself against whatever war was raging inside her. He'd seen the bruises and most of the other injuries they'd left on her. Anyone would've been blind, death, dumb and stupid to not have given how he'd found her.
If it hadn't have been for the few connections he'd secured on the Tacoma county police department over the years as allies to the club, Happy doubted he would've known anything until she'd been found by some stranger and brought into the emergency. He'd never been quite so grateful for them calling the club so late in the night to give him time to get out to her. Anonymous tip his ass.
Whoever had laid their hands on her had phoned it in. Arrogant pricks. They'd specifically identified the crow tattoo on her wrist to ensure the information had been passed straight onto the club. It had been a message, for the club, and they'd taken it out upon the only person who they could get their hands on easy; Rae Cardiff.
She was one of only three women who had been a constant presence in his life; and one he'd kill for protecting.
The five foot five tattooed caramel beauty with a nasty left hook and tomboy disposition towards anything female that would make an old granny faint in fright had been in his life since her diaper days.
Big daddy Cardiff had been a loyal Son of the Tacoma chapter since its beginning – until he'd taken a bullet to the gut in a drive by when Happy had been barely fifteen and Rae three. Despite being over ten years apart in age, their relationship was solid.
Staring at his friend he wanted to do something, anything for her but he was drawing up empty. He didn't do comfort anymore. He wasn't the same boy he'd been all those years ago and he'd bet his life on Rae not wanting to be handled right now.
He decided trying to talk a little more, despite that being a weak point for him, would be a better option. "Rae, I know they've hounded you for hours darlin' but if you remember anything, you gotta tell me." She didn't say anything and he sighed, pushing himself back and leaning deeper into the chair. "I can't get the fuckers if I don't–"
"I was blindfolded Hap. I never saw their faces, like I told those cops," she snapped, close to tears and he tilted his head back to glance at the ceiling. He knew it was pointless. She wasn't lying to the cops earlier. He'd found the blindfold still round her when he'd finally found her – he had held some hope she would have caught a look at them before they'd jumped her.
His urge to punch or gut something had never been so vehement. Those assholes deserved to be torn apart slowly and painfully but there was little he could do without names or faces to go on.
It still killed him when he found her and tried to rouse her; she had panicked and tried to fight him and then started crying when he'd said who he was.
Damn.
He wanted to punch something; anything.
This had just messed up everything. With the state Rae was in Happy wasn't so comfortable with leaving her on her own, or with any of the Tacoma boys either, worried that she might do something stupid.
Glancing at her, he thought back on it. She served as bartender for the Tacoma clubhouse since she'd been seventeen. She wasn't a croweater; thankfully, he'd managed to keep his friend from straying down that path and kept her reasonably out of the hands of trouble. Once or twice a prospect had ended up in love with her but the relationship didn't and couldn't last. Happy may have played a part in them ending along the track, might have used his brothers to help out here and there, but Rae was like a little sister and he wasn't about to let her head down the road of old lady to a prospect; she was like his to protect.
He hadn't though.
She'd been grabbed on her weekly shopping stock up for the club. He'd failed her. Protecting her heart from a guy was nothing in comparison to protecting her from the damage she'd endured last night.
Rae was a strong, good girl, for the most part – no drugs, lewd behaviour or criminal record. Happy liked keeping her clean.
She was the thing he could be proud of outside the club. She was the reason he kept the drugs out of Tacoma and why they'd hit that truck last week.
Like most other Sons of Anarchy charters, Tacoma had a no drug tolerance. They'd almost killed Kozik when they'd caught him using. Rae had saved his life twice from overdosing and then he'd taken it to the table – detox him.
It had taken two weeks to get the job done but Kozik had been clear for six years and counting now.
Thinking about the club got Hap wondering about Rae's future. He didn't bring it up with her anymore; caused too many arguments.
She would just mutter something about this being her only family and she wasn't leaving them. She was smart, could've gone to college but instead she had stayed with the club and just painted in her spare time.
He knew their return this morning wasn't going to be a cheerful one.
The boys wouldn't turn her away; no, they'd welcome her without hesitation. They boys loved Rae, always had since she'd been running round the clubhouse in diapers and riding a trike like a little champion.
He was more worried about how she'd hold up mentally given what had happened.
Something like sexual assault didn't go away overnight; he wasn't stupid. She flinched whenever someone got near her, when he'd come barging into the room an hour ago to make sure they were looking after her, he'd made to touch her cheek and she'd flinched.
She'd never flinched from him before.
This was a mess and he needed to leave for Charming to meet up with the mother charter to deal with this rise in drug trafficking but Happy couldn't just ditch Rae when there was no one to watch her.
He knew Kozik would protect her, watch over her but Happy got the impression Rae wouldn't want to have the Sgt. At Arms hovering over her.
It wasn't like when she'd had her appendix removed.
His mother would jump at the chance to have her for a little while but given her condition Happy didn't want to put any stress on either woman being worried over the other and he really didn't want to tell his mother Rae had been raped.
Of course, he could always take her with him.
He almost snorted aloud at the thought. The idea of taking Rae to Charming was both amusing and daunting.
Clay had a strict policy on no women staying at the clubhouse unless they were attached to one of the brothers.
Gemma might have a pink fit it he brought Rae down without prior warning but for some reason he could oddly see Clay's old lady and Rae getting along.
Glancing at Rae he noticed how heavy lidded she was getting, how her trembling had subsided and decided that he'd think more on it later.
Straightening up to his full height, Happy brought a hand up to her cheek, biting back a grimace as she flinched in reaction but didn't jerk away like she had a few hours ago.
"Rae, think it might be time to get you out of this fridge and somewhere warmer."
She nodded and he helped her down from the bed, steadying her when she collapsed against him. He wasn't going to humiliate her with a walk of shame and rather than ask, Happy scooped the girl up into his arms and told her to hold on.
The old Rae, pre-attack, would have kicked and squealed and hit him demanding to be put down but now she buried her head into his chest and wrapped an arm about his neck, the other laying across her belly.
The Tacoma clubhouse was almost a replica of the Charming base, only it was more open and spread out – the clubhouse further to the back of the plot of land the Sons owned and protected by the garage, the standard front for the Sons of Anarchy; mechanics and Harley enthusiasts to normal eyes and a steady source of income for the club.
Most of the boys, like Happy and Kozik, lived in the clubhouse. Happy's only other residence was his mother's and he stayed there only when need absolutely required. He didn't need to put her in harms way.
Rae had he own permanent set-up there too; right opposite Happy's dorm. She'd originally been living with his mother but when she'd had to go into care, Happy had asked Duke, Tacoma's President, if he could give her a room.
Nudging open the door of her room, Happy grinned at the familiar sight; film posters and magazines were everywhere, CDs and DVDs were stacked in piles beside mountains of books and a pair of old boxing gloves that she'd tacked up over the head of the bed. Rae's room showed off what was hiding beneath a careful constructed exterior; an intelligent young woman.
He waved her in hoping the sight of her room might give her a little more life. The slice of peace and safety didn't make her lips curl up even the slightest.
Happy had called the boys to bring the truck in to collect Rae. Bones, an enforcer, had understood Happy's order to ride on the back with Happy's bike. Not only did it mean someone was watching his bike but he honestly doubted Rae would ride willingly with Bones in the cab, no matter how friendly the pair were.
Even though it was three in the morning when they ambled into the clubhouse, the entire charter was present. All the boys had been woken and informed of the situation after Happy had torn out of the place like a demon round sunset and there they'd been; showing their support by waiting up for them.
Rae had recoiled fast when Kozik had tried to pull her into a hug. Happy could see by the grim set of his jaw that Koz was hurt though he hid it well and just nodded. Out of the lot of them, Koz was probably the most genuine guy they had. He had a big heart, especially where Rae was concerned, given the past years following his transfer into Tacoma from Charming.
Happy barked out that it was late and everyone was to either bunk down or take a hike. The main room had cleared out in seconds.
Rae eased herself down onto her unmade bed with a grimace. She looked tired and stressed, dark circles under her eyes and hair still in rather bad shape.
He wanted to offer her the choice to change into something more comfortable than the hospital pants and shirt she'd been given but she laid herself down and curled herself up into a ball only a second after he thought it.
Dropping the small bag of her jewellery and other things onto her cluttered desk, Happy ran a hand down his face, telling her to sleep as long as she needed into the day and he'd see her when she was ready to resurface.
She nodded and he shut the door. This was so beyond messed up.
Kozik stood, leaning against the doorframe of his dorm, two doors down; those massive arms crossed over his broad chest. "S'up with kitten?"
Happy shook his head. "She ain't talkin' much. Blindfolded her so she couldn't I.D. the bastards and she'd in pretty bad shape."
Kozik nodded. "Let me know if I can do anything to help." With that he turned back into his dorm room and shut the door.
Happy knew that when it came to Rae, Kozik was another who would willingly take a bullet for her. While they were close, Kozik was like an uncle who would tease her mercilessly but at the end of the day when push came to shove, the Sergeant would do Happy's job if he wasn't able to.
Rae somehow found ways to get under men's skin and Happy knew it wasn't intentional on her part. Growing up together had made them close; she understood the life, knew to keep her mouth shut and one day she would make a great old lady to some lucky bastard – one day.
Happy trudged into his own room, kicked the door shut with his boot and collapsed onto his bed to stare up at the ceiling.
He had no choice. Happy couldn't leave her while she was in this state but he couldn't abandon his duties for her either. He also knew that if she was going to travel, riding on the back of his bike was going to be a massive hell no for her. He had a lot of shit to organize before heading out tomorrow but he decided that a three in the morning phone call to Clay was sure fire grounds for getting his balls mashed in with a hammer by the Charming President's old lady and he definitely wanted to avoid that at any and all costs.