Son of a Rambler.

Chapter 2.

It's funny how you're the broken one, but I'm the one that's needed saving.

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I roll around in the small bed, tossing and turning before ripping the sheet off me and sitting up. I let out a loud sigh before running a hand through my hair and grabbing my pack of smokes. It's been a few weeks since I've been staying with Al and keeping a close watch on her for Tig. I slide on a pair of sweats, grab my gun and walk out of the guest room, quietly moving down the hall and opening the French doors to the porch.

I stick a smoke out and put it between my lips, lighting it and then turning my head. I hear sniffling and I immediately put my hand on my gun that's stuck between my back and the band of my sweatpants. I start moving closer to the sound and my eyes widen when I find Al sitting on the steps of her deck, sobbing.

"Al? What the hell. Are you okay? What's wrong?" I rush to her and take a seat behind her, instantly wrapping my arms around her.

She starts shaking her head and wipes her wet eyes, leaning into me as she bites down on her bottom lip to stop the cries.

"What's going on, Al?" I ask her sternly.

"It's just a rough month, Jax. I'm fine." She tries to blow me off, but I'm not having it.

I take a drag from my smoke and sigh, "It's 4 in the morning and you're crying on your deck. That's not normally a rough month, now tell me what's going on."

"Can I bum a smoke first? We can finish it up and go inside..." I nod, taking one out of the package for her and putting it between her lips and lighting it for her.

We sit together in silence, looking out to her large backyard that's hidden by the darkness. Her breathing is heavy, and she's trying her best to not let her cries out but fails. Al stands up and puts the cigarette in the ash-tray that I bought for the deck. She walks over to the French doors and opens it. I follow her into her house and she walks over to grab a blanket before stopping and taking a seat at the dining room table.

"Coffee?" I ask her, and she nods. I walk to her kitchen and start the Keurig machine, making her a cup of her vanilla coffee. I walk back to her with two mugs in hand, setting hers down in front of her and she immediately takes a sip.

I take a seat across from her and look at hurt with fear and confusion in my eyes, "So, what's happening?"

She lets out a long breath, "I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder when I was 19. The same time mom and dad split up..."

I raise an eyebrow, "From the divorce or?"

Al shakes her head, "Not quite..." I decide to say nothing, and I just let her go at her own pace. "Jax, I was raped when I was 18 and I got pregnant. Mom made me go with her because she thought that I'd be able to heal quicker if I left Charming, and she didn't want to put me in the place of danger with my dad and everything..." My eyes widen in horror and I look at the innocent woman in front of me who is a mess, tears running down her cheeks, her eyes swollen and her nose red from crying so much.

Her auburn hair is in a ridiculously messy bun, and she's wearing nothing but one of my large SAMCRO t-shirts. She starts picking the skin around her manicured fingers and I reach over, grabbing her hands and holding them in mine, "Al, I'm so sorry. I didn't know..."

"No one did. It happened again when I moved with my mom. Different guy, but I was drugged. I didn't say anything about that, and mom still doesn't know. Dad never found out about either. I was so terrified of what he'd do, what he'd have you guys do if he found out... I still am."