Once Upon a Reaper

What Big Eyes You Have

She breathed slowly as she pulled into the lot of Teller-Morrow. She'd come bearing gifts, of course, but that didn't mean that she would be received kindly. She'd been gone for a long time and, word was, the Sons weren't the same anymore.

Keying the ignition to a stop as she pushed the gear into park, Rowan sat back in her seat. Off to the right, she could see the garage where the Sons and the employees of T-M worked during the day. It was the cover for the "motorcycle enthusiasts" who often worked more lucrative, and more deadly, jobs.

That direction, Rowan would likely find Chibs or Tig working under a hood. A new prospect might be skittering around the room, desperately looking for approval. Regular men and women – not Sons – would be assisting as the business permitted.

To her left, Rowan could see the road from where she'd come. It was a plain, ordinary day in Charming. Out there somewhere, the good people of the town would be laboring in their own positions. Children were in school and there was a bright shine to the day.

Despite her internal storm, there wasn't even a cloud in the sky to mark the looming feeling Rowan had.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, she tucked her phone into her purse and tossed the strap over her shoulder. The treats she'd brought were in the back; a kind of peace offering for the people inside the office. Well, not people. It was just one person she hoped to see, to visit, and maybe, to recreate a relationship with.

"No use putting it off," Rowan muttered under her breath. She heaved a heavier breath and then stepped a foot outside of her old Pontiac. The grey on the car was peeling in several places and the headliner was long gone, but the car still worked, so she hadn't gotten the interest in finding a new one.

The sun shone on her as she opened the back passenger door and then reached inside. A basket, wicker and frilly, to be honest, was waiting for her. In it, there were Gemma's favorite candies and cookies. And, under those, there was the real present.

Grabbing the wood and pulling out the item, Rowan turned back toward the office. She could hear the chirping of the birds better, now. The muffled sounds from the garage carried over the yard as well. As she took one step and then another, the echoes of the life in Charming lit upon her ears.

At the door, she nearly turned around. It had taken her two years to come this far, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to go further. Gemma might still be angry. The Sons might still question her loyalty. And that wasn't even covering the wolf who likely wanted to kick her lifeless body into a ditch somewhere.

Ultimately, Rowan didn't have to decide. The door to the office swung open and in less than a second, she registered the worst of her fears. Instead of seeing Gemma first, she was looking into the now hardening eyes of Happy Lowman.

Rowan had heard a few things here and there since she'd gone to the charter in Nevada. If the stories were right, Happy had earned several more tattoos. He'd always been someone to fear, but after she'd left the fold, he'd become something more terrifying. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, surprise and anger spilling over. Rowan blanched a little and then raised the item in her hands. Thankfully, it separated her from him. It wasn't a large space, but it was enough to breathe, which she desperately needed right now.

"I came to visit Gem," Rowan answered. By a miracle she couldn't describe, her voice was even. In her hands, the basket didn't even sway. Somehow, she was the appearance of calm.

"No," Happy rasped, his chest puffing up. He hadn't seen Rowan in twenty-six months. Her hair was longer, but nothing else seemed to have changed. She was still beautiful. And she should have stayed fucking gone.

"Hap-" Rowan began, only to be interrupted by the voice of the woman she'd actually come to hear.

"Rowan, baby?" Gem called, her voice confused as she came up behind Happy's shoulder. When she saw that it was Rowan, she elbowed the biker to get him to move. He grunted, but remained where he was.

"Happy," Gemma said, her warning clear. The man turned to the matriarch, feeling disappointment and anger spike. She couldn't mean to let Rowan back; not after all this time.

"I'd like to speak with my god-daughter," Gemma stated, her arms crossing over her chest. The Son's jaw ticked, but he couldn't really go against Gem. Clay might not be around anymore, but the woman still had the protections of being the club's reigning queen.

Sneering at Rowan, Happy pushed past her. The smell of her perfume was familiar, causing an instantaneous reaction that he despised. His fingers curled in on his palms and he stomped toward his bike. It took three months for him to get that smell out of his nose the last time.

At the doorway, Rowan watched Hap leave. He hadn't glanced back, had given her even a hello. She shouldn't have expected it, but a part of her had hoped. Instead, she watched him leave in a cloud of dirt, his throttle high and his body tense.

"You're going to have some making up to do," Gemma said wryly, noting the tantrum. Rowan looked at her in surprise and the older woman shrugged.

"You didn't say goodbye when you pealed out, Row," Gem noted. "There were a lot of unanswered questions and you weren't here to protect your name," she continued. Rowan grimaced and then glanced around before gesturing into the office.

"I'm hoping you can help me with that," Rowan answered. Gemma's brows came together as she considered, but she ultimately stepped back. Rowan had always been a soft spot for her, even if Gemma had gotten no end of shit when the younger woman had disappeared, only to show up in Nevada.

"What do you have in mind?" Gem asked as she closed the office door and turned. At the desk, Rowan was setting the basket down and pulling out a stack of treats intended to make Gemma's mouth water. As Gem walked up to view them all, Rowan pulled back the tea towel that had been at the base, revealing a 9 mm.

"That isn't-" Gem began, only to stop when Rowan nodded.

"It is," she confirmed. "I got it from him personally," she explained.

"But, how?" Gemma asked, her eyes still on the weapon. 

It had gone missing the night that someone had killed Bobby. It was his gun and, importantly, it was the only tie to the death of a corrupt cop in Lodi. The man responsible for that death – for saving Gemma and the club with his action – had just torn out of the lot on his Harley.

"Took me a while, but I got it from the prospect," Rowan answered, her eyes glancing toward the door. It was dangerous, having this item in the open, but she had to bring it back. She'd had to prove that it wasn't her who took it and that she wasn't the rat. She'd had to make sure that Happy was safe from that petulant biker wannabe. 

"They thought you two took off together," Gem said softly. She'd argued with the boys until she was blue, only securing their promise not to ask the other charter to 'handle' Rowan because no one had been able to prove anything.

"You knew better, though, right?" Rowan asked, her heart thundering. Gemma nodded and smiled, pulling the younger woman toward her for a hug.

That piece would resolve a lot of angst in the club. It meant that Gem would get to have her god-daughter back, without worry for her safety. No one would harm her now. And, maybe, it would mean that the man who'd lost of part of himself when Rowan left would return.