"I don't mind living in a man's world, as long as I can be a woman in it."
A hopeful new member with an affiliation to a neighbouring charter shows up in Charming, looking to get in with the infamous Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club. The only problem...
A lonely hospital bed reminds Sydney that she isn't so far away from what robbed her of her dream all of those years ago in San Bernardino as she finds herself in yet another vulnerable position for all to see, and this time she can't run away from her fate.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
General trigger warnings for this story: Language, smut, mentions of rape, mentions of drug use/overdose, violence/death, racism/gang activity.
Be sure to follow aravenamongcrows on Tumblr (ask & submissions are open), and m.s.alexis on Instagram (tracking #aravenamongcrows), for exclusive photos, updates, and more!
♕
Sydney woke up under the buzzing of the commercial hospital lights feeling like she'd been hit by a freight train as the reality of what being a gunshot victim really meant, started to set in. She lay with her thigh throbbing, her muscles aching, and her skin crawling. She alternated between clenching her jaw and holding her breath, the limited oxygen being the only thing that seemed to dull the nagging pain, even if it was only for a few seconds. She tossed and turned, trying to find a position that would bring some kind of comfort as the effects of the morphine dwindled in her system, but it was no use.
"You okay, baby?" Tig mumbled groggily, opening one eye to see that she had pushed herself as far away from him as possible in the tiny bed.
"Too warm." She went with the first excuse that came to mind, hoping that he would return to the slumber that she'd been trying not to disturb in the first place.
"I told you that you wouldn't like me hogging the bed." He chuckled, padding across the room where he opened the window, careful not to knock over any of the flower vases.
"That's not why." She ground her teeth as she laid on her back, balling her fists into the sheets.
Tig rubbed his forehead as he forced his tired eyes to stay open, pulling his boots on over his sweatpants before slipping out of the room, quickly returning with a cup of ice water.
"Thanks." She accepted the beverage, gulping it down in one swig as she tried to turn her focus towards the cool sensation of the liquid traveling down her throat and through her chest, before crunching down on the ice chips.
"Better?" He asked as he sat himself in the chair next to the bed, kicking his feet up and reaching for the remote, hoping that some extra space and less body heat would help her discomfort.
"No." She grumbled as she clenched her fist around his ring on her thumb, her frustration quickly returning as he got comfortable across the room, denying her the one thing that made the pain bearable. "I don't want to see anyone today."
Tig frowned, leaning over and kissing her on the forehead. "Try and go back to sleep, I'm right here." He could tell that today was going to be a bad day, the third day always was. He wasn't a foreigner to bullets, or heavy drugs - he knew that as they began weaning her off of the painkillers, she was going to be restless, cranky, and uncomfortable.
