The Thin Line (Between Guilt & Blame)

Heated

Vigorous shower sex satiated Jax' need for a fight. Both were primal urges, so Sadie picked the path that also brought her pleasure. Tonight, she drew no pleasure from fighting.

They shared a cigarette in bed and Sadie could easily forget they had their own bed. They had their own house. Sheets with a higher thread count, dressers without cigarette burns older than sin; a haven without the constant roar of Harleys right outside the window which had been painted shut long ago.

"We can't just fuck in the shower every time shit's going down," Jax said, passing the half-spent cigarette back to her slender fingers.

"Says who?" Sadie replied absently, placing the filter to her lips.

"So where'd you go? Seriously."

Sadie sighed heavily, "Went to visit Unser... he's outside of all this shit now. Felt like a fucking vacation." She was lying, but it also was every truth: she did go to see Unser.

"Shit. How's the old man holding up?" Jax asked, running his fingertips down the center of his chest, scratching a phantom itch.

"Not good," she replied, "Told him to stop by more. Gemma'll get one look at him and he won't have a choice but to shape up."

Jax smirked but said nothing. He turned down the last drag from the cigarette and positioned his body to better ready for sleep, whatever he could get. 

Sadie pressed the filter into the ashtray at her bedside. Smoke hung in the air, unmoved.

The couple went off to sleep in their own ways without another word spoken.

A Few Days Later

Jax remained tightlipped about their recon of Xanny's operation. Tig and Juice had returned but they acted as if they'd never left. Besides the rash that Juice had gotten from a new pair of riding pants, it was all quiet on the Reaper front.

Well, that was until...

Bow-legged Juice tore into the clubhouse and skittered to a halt when his eyes landed on Clay, "Clay! We got a problem..."

Clay set his beer aside. He didn't ask questions, he knew something was very wrong. He and Jax shared a look and both made haste for the door. Sadie, who'd been holding her sleeping son after a particularly terrible tantrum, stood.

"Stay here!" Jax managed to call over his shoulder and the men disappeared.

Sadie glanced at a few of the people mulling about the clubhouse, welcome on this [previously] uneventful weekday afternoon. Her stomach fell. She remained standing, rocking her sleeping son to comfort herself.

Outside

Clay moved to the front of the crowd as it parted like the red sea for its fearless leader, "What the hell is this?" He asked, "You got a warrant?"

Roosevelt stood before several cop cars and his hands on his belt like a cocky motherfucker. He pressed his lips together like he was amused, "Don't need one," he said, "Just a friendly visit, Clay. I know it might surprise you, a Black man coming to the great white mechanic but I told you I'd be keeping my eye on you. Making good on my word. It's all a man has, after all."

Clay wasn't buying his bullshit, "You need your cruiser checked? You'll have to make an appointment. We're booked."

"Hmm," Roosevelt chuckled.

The sound of a siren drew the crew's attention as the unis waved a firetruck into the parking lot.

Jax and Clay shared a look: this was bad.

"Wait..." Roosevelt took his sunglasses from his eyes so he could look the Reaper dead in the eye, "I smell smoke..."

Inside

Sadie heard a siren and her stomach turned over. Maybe she should have taken them up on the toast and eggs some crow eaters had whipped up because she was on the precipice of dizzyingly nauseous.

It wasn't the boys who marched back through the door. It was Roosevelt followed by firefighters. Confusion wore plain on Sadie's face, her hand instinctively fell to the back of her son's head.

Roosevelt slowed as he approached her. It was clear he had a mind for something else but he was taking care of business, "I suggest you take the little one outside."

His distaste for her, the boys, and the club radiated from him like a poison but the slightest glimmer of humanity peaked through as he spoke, for her child was innocent.

Sadie was rooted, "He belongs here."

Roosevelt glanced back at his men, showing this was only a temporary hold up.

Jax tore across the room and violently wedged his body between Sadie and Roosevelt, his eyes daring Roosevelt to keep barking up the wrong tree. The show of disobedience cause two cops to accost Jax, ordering him to the ground.

"Hey! Stop! What the fuck?!" Sadie yelled. The scuffle woke Abel who began to cry again. The cops managed to put Jax face-first into the cement floor. Jax could feel the warm, familiar feel of blood rushing down his nose.

In turn, Jax' take down created an uproar so the rest of the club was taken to the ground.

Roosevelt smiled down at Jax, still wearing an air of power like a golden crown, "I won't ask you again," his eyes flickered back up to Sadie, "Take the kid outside or I'll have him removed by child services and you can cool off in the back of my squad car. It's real comfy."

"Sade...take Abel outside, okay? We'll handle this," he called up, his eyes pleading with the woman to cooperate as blood dripped over his lip, staining his chin.

Sadie studied Jax' features and despite knowing her presence with Abel could potentially be diffusion, whatever was going to happen was going to happen, it was inevitable now. Sadie shook her head in disbelief but Jax read submission beneath her fury. Sadie made way for the door with her crying son, the cops and firemen parting for the young mother.

"You know," Roosevelt started up, as if he'd never skipped a beat, "I think...I think this wall feels warm," he said, placing his hand between two of their mug shots.

Clay and Jax shared a look. Jax' nostrils flared, coating the ground beneath him in red. Clay's shaking fists strained the metal of the handcuffs which were powerless when Roosevelt took an axe to the wall.

Picture frames shattered and crashed to the floor.

Jax found his own face staring back at him, shards of glass in a sea of disaster between them.