Chapter Text
Clay frowned at the corpse bleeding into the motel carpet, lowering his glock. "This will cause problems."
Chibs stepped around the biker's body. "Ya think?" he hissed in his heavy Scottish accent, handgun ready. "Southern Brotherhood won't take kindly to this, we'll have to make sure we tell 'em the story first. I'm checkin' the last room."
Clay nodded at the younger man and held his gun up, the tip of the silencer speckled with blood. He had to work to keep his hands from shaking. Only a few more hours before he needed an injection, something he never looked forward to on the road. Gemma always made things easier.
The door between this motel room and the next was unlocked and cracked open; Chibs readied his hand on the door-knob. At Clay's nod he burst into the room, Clay ducking in afterwards to cover him. It looked like a crime scene. The white sheets on the far twin bed were spotted with blood, covers disheveled, trash everywhere.
"Empty," Clay said as Chibs stalked towards the bathroom. When Chibs passed the far bed the man snapped to attention, lifting the muzzle of his gun into the far corner. Startled, Clay followed suit.
As Clay came closer he saw what had caused the alarm; there a body curled up in the small space between the bed and the wall, naked as fucking day, hands behind his back. He didn't move at their approach, face obscured under a mop of dark hair.
"Jesus," Chibs said, shaking his head. The man's sides were covered in bruises and lacerations, finger-shaped blood stains. "Those sick fucks."
"No kidding. Get him out, will ya," Clay said, gesturing.
"I do that, you check the bathroom."
As Clay stepped away Chibs somewhat nervously moved into the small space, stepping slowly with his gun pointed aside. The man, face buried between his knees, just seemed to pull up tighter.
"Clear," he heard Clay say, and Chibs finally holstered his gun under his vest. "Blood on the tile, beer cans and pizza boxes," Clay said in disgust, stepping back into the room. "These guys live like pigs."
"Hey, laddie...hey..." Chibs crouched down and reached out. The man jerked when Chib's fingers touched his shoulder. "Just letting you out, ok? Ok..." the man didn't make a noise as Chibs' hand trailed down the man's arm, hoping to communicate where he was planning on touching. He finally wrapped his fingers around the ropy layers of duck-tape. He took his knife to it, went to work.
"Looks like they drugged him," Clay observed. "Poor guy must've hid when he heard shooting."
"Maybe," Chibs agreed, the first loop of tape snapping off. He suddenly became hyper-aware of the man's nakedness. "Clay, grab that blanket for me."
A few moments later and Clay had yanked the tan blanket out from under the mattress. Chibs took it and draped it over the man's knees, wedging to keep it from falling off. No reaction, just rigidity as Chibs wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and back as well.
"Hey lad, can you hear me?" Chibs asked, keeping his voice low.
The head turned slightly to look give him a guarded look. Blue eyes...mature blue eyes, weighed him, analyzed him distrustfully. He was clearly hard-put just to keep his eyelids open.
"We're just here to help, brother," Chibs said as reassuringly as possible. The blanket wouldn't stay over his shoulder, but it at least kept him covered from the hips up as Chibs ripped the last of the duck-tape.
"What the hell is this?" Tig asked as he walked in, the lithe man staring at the scene with his usual uneasy energy, scratching at his black goatee.
"Sh sh, keep your voice down," Clay said, putting his hand up. Then Chibs was gently pulling the man's wrist forward. "Tig, find his clothes." Clay headed for the door. "We need Ope for this."
-|-
Chibs stepped from the motel into the brisk evening air, lighting a cigarette to calm his nerves. He watched as Bobby escorted two call girls away from the rooms, the Elvis look-alike clearly exasperated.
There was the rumble of motorcycles, and Jax and Juice came to a stop near the door. Jax set the kick-stand with his white sneakers, sweaty and red-faced from the exhilaration of a fight gone well.
Jax unclicked his helmet, swinging his leg over. "Chibs."
"Jax." Chibs stepped closer. "You find it?"
"Only found half the coke, they bolted with the rest," Jax said, hanging the helmet over the handle. "I'm figuring they're in with the fuzz, that's why the fuckers were so confident."
"Makes sense," Chibs said. "Another good reason for us to clear town fast, get across state lines."
"Nope." Jax ran a hand through tangled dirty blonde hair. "I'm not leaving without the rest of that shipment, Chibs, we can't."
"May not be worth it, Jax, should let the Brotherhood handle it." Jax opened his mouth to speak but Chibs raised a hand. "It's their chapter that went rogue, they should clean up the mess. Look, I'm much more worried about the Irish thinkin' we're compromised. If we can't get Sanchez to sit down and talk this out we're bloody well screwed more ways than - "
"Hey Chibs, get the van pulled up to the door," Tigs called from inside the motel.
"Juice, move the van," Chibs said.
"What the...two bodies?" Jax demanded, and Chibs turned to see Jax peering in the door. Ope was walking their way from inside. The giant of a man had the punk wrapped entirely in the tan blanket and hoisted in his arms, bare feet dangling.
Tig looked anxious as he led the way, Clay behind them with a bundle of clothing under his arm. "Not a body, boss," Tig said.
"Well who is he?" Jax demanded, trying to better see the face obscured on Ope's chest.
"Dunno yet, he hasn't said a word ," Ope said with a grunt, pausing by the door while Juice parked the van. Tig stepped onto the walkway to wave Juice to the right parking spot, Clay following.
"Is he conscious?" Jax asked Ope, fortunately with the sense to keep his voice down.
Ope hefted the body. "Barely, he's pretty drugged up."
Taking a drag on his cigarette, Chibs scanned the mostly-deserted parking lot for activity. Old habit. Thanking their luck that the trashy motel was both near-vacant and isolated, he turned to watch Ope and Jax, saw Jax was leaning in too close.
"Jax, maybe you should give 'em some space," Chibs said as diplomatically as he could, wishing he'd briefed Jax earlier. Jax gave Chibs a look of surprise before looking at Ope for an answer, brow furrowed.
Ope simply motioned with his head towards the bed in the corner. As Jax stared at the bloodstains understanding dawning on his face. He walked into the room to take a closer look, running a hand through tangled dirty-blonde hair. "Those sick fucks..."
"That was my sentiment precisely," Chibs intoned.
"We're getting him to the ER," Ope said.
"Alright..." Jax was clearly thinking hard, then walked urgently up to Ope again. "Look, bro, what if the Brotherhood has it staked out, you sure going there is smart right now?"
"Do you know any doctors around here?" Clay interjected out of nowhere, stepping up to the door. "I don't. We don't know what's wrong with him so he's going, it's not up for debate." Clay sounded irritated that they were even discussing it.
"Well get him inside, then we'll talk about this," Jax said severely. The black windowless van came to a stop with its back facing the rooms, a newer model with a sliding side door. Tig pulled open the rear doors and hopped inside, his pocket chain swinging over worn Levi's.
Ope stepped out, angled sideways so the man's feet didn't smack the door.
The van's back seats had been removed to fit everyone's extra shit, i.e. travel supplies that weren't (on the surface) illegal. Prowling between the duffel bags and coats, Tig grabbed a pile and starting to clear more space.
"Sleeping bag's in the right corner," Ope said, bracing himself to step up and inside while Clay and Chibs jumped forward to hold the van doors.
Chibs scanned for passerby and only saw Bobby walking back. Before he could tell Opie to hurry up, the man was stepping inside, a grunt the only sign the physical feat was any effort at all.Tig clicked on the interior light, and Chibs glimpsed the punk's face as Ope lowered him, eyes lidded and glassy.
"Chibs, Clay," Jax was saying, motioning for them to follow.
Clay tossed the clothes inside and closed his side of the door. Chibs followed suit, but not before he saw Juice peering at the scene in confusion from the driver's seat.
"We need to think this through," Jax said seriously when they joined him beside the van. "Got a lot of loose ends we can't ignore right now."
"He's going," Clay said again, clearly pissing all over his new territory.
"I already know what you think, Clay, let's weigh options," Jax said sternly, giving his step-father a stare-down.
"Bitch later, will ya boys?" Chibs asked tiredly, tempted to smack them both.
Both, impressively, bit their tongues, Clay crossing his arms.
"Does he...look, are we sure he's critical?" Jax asked. "Maybe we can get him to an ER across state lines."
"That'd be over an hour, Jax, too risky," Chibs said before Clay could start.
The van's side door opened and Tig stepped out, pulling it shut again.
Clay sighed. "Look, just...deal with this and don't screw it up. I need to deal with that problem." Clay motioned at the unmarked moving van in the corner of the parking lot, which now stored, beyond bikes, tools, and extra wheels, a fresh corpse and a square of bloody carpet. "Oh, and someone..." Clay said as an imperious afterthought, waving his finger at them. "Needs to find out who tipped those fuckers off."
Jax's eye roll barely showed; just a flicker of the eyelashes really.
"Off to work, boys." Clay pulled out his sunglasses, then turned and ambled off, adjusting them on his face. "Bobby!"
"So what's the plan, Stan," Tig asked, snatching Chibs' half-burned cigarette. Chibs stared, scarcely believing the ass' cheekiness as Tig took a luxurious drag.
"You and Ope hit the ER, but be careful," Jax said while leaning in, like he could finally talk freely. "And I want you to pull out fast if you even 'smell' the Brotherhood, you hear me? Don't take chances. Whatever happens we'll meet you at the rendezvous across the border, hole up there for the night."
"I thought we were staying for the rest," Chibs said.
"No, you were right," Jax said. "We need to deliver what we have, let the Brotherhood take the heat from Sanchez. This is just a really 'shit' situation to take in a stray, bro. We'll have to watch what we say in front of this guy, no state secrets. What do you think he is, anyways, a hooker?"
"A hooker," Chibs repeated incredulously.
"Not that it 'matters', in any case," Tig said, exaggerating the words to make his point, "but no, he's not, I found a leather vest with no patch. Think it's his."
"So that means he can't be a hooker," Jax deadpanned.
"Ok, fine, maybe he's a male hooker who caters to gay Nazi biker clubs with a biker fetish," Tig said sarcastically, "I hear the South loves that shit."
"Don't be a smart-ass, it's not funny," Chibs said sternly.
That earned him a neck roll and a stare. "I didn't 'say' it was funny."
"You want my guess," Chibs said, ignoring his irritating friend, "he either pissed 'em off or they were usin' him as leverage against someone on the inside. Hardly a reason to think he's harmful - "
"Are you assholes coming or what?" Ope demanded, having cracked open the sliding van door.
"Tell Juice to get out, it's you and me, Opie," Tig called back, handing Chibs back his cigarette. A grin, a pat on both their shoulders and Tig was off.
"Don't do anything stupid and die," Chibs called after.
Tig raised a hand in mock acknowledgment before disappearing around the van, Juice stepping out.
Chibs sighed, rubbing his eye socket with his palm. "I just want this disaster of a trip done with."
"Here." Jax pulled a candy bar out of his pocket, starting to walk with Chibs towards the moving van. "Eat a Snickers."
Chibs couldn't help guffawing, taking it despite himself. "Ya take the idea from the commercials, then?"
"You get cranky when your blood sugar's low. Besides, we still have work to do, need you at your best."
Chibs put the cigarette in his mouth while he unwrapped the candy. "You know I'm like a dog, right?" he mumbled, remembering a conversation he'd had the week before. "Completely loyal to whoever feeds me, swear it's hardwired into my brain."
Jax put his hands in his pockets, casually clearing his throat. "Ope may have mentioned it."
"...hey!"