Title: Nothing’s Gonna Change If You Can’t Save Me (1/1)
Fandom: Sons of Anarchy
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Spoilers for 2x12, Culling.
“Just take what you need,” Opie tells her and she nods, trying to keep calm, trying not to panic though it’s hard not to when he suddenly shows up at her door and tells her that she needs to pack a bag for her and Piper so they can stay at the clubhouse for a few days.
She tries to pack Piper first – having no idea how long they will be gone and Opie doesn’t seem to know either. She just needs to pack and do it fast.
Her hands are shaking as she fumbles with the zipper of the gym bag and Opie gently pushes her hands away, unzipping it for her and holding it open as she grabs an armful of clothes from Piper’s clothes and shove them into the bag, not even noticing what she is bringing. He hasn’t said a word but his eyes keep glancing over at the clock in the room, only making Lyla more anxious.
“Now your room,” he says, zipping up the gym bag and tossing it into the hallway and she nods, trying to breathe, Opie following close behind as she goes into her bedroom across the hall from Piper’s. She glances towards the front door, which is standing wide open. “Don’t worry. Piney’s outside with the kids.”
“And a shotgun,” Lyla adds.
“Nothing is going to happen to the kids but I need you to get your stuff. Right now,” he tells her again.
She gets another bag and leaves it open on the bed as she goes to her dresser, once again, not even sure what clothes she gathers in her arms. Opie looks out the window, his eyes sharp and quick, looking for something, and she can’t help but watch him as she drops everything messily into the bag.
She sighs heavily, spinning around to look at him. “Ope, I need you to tell me what is going on. If this involves me and my son-”
“It involves everyone,” he interrupts, still staring out the window, his fingers holding apart the blinds. “Everyone is going to be at the clubhouse.”
“Great,” she murmurs to herself and though she knows he said they have to hurry, she nonetheless sits down on the foot of the bed.
“You’ll be safe there,” he is frowning at her now, his arms crossed over his chest.
“All of those women hate me,” she tells him.
“Who cares, Lyla?” He shrugs, his patience beginning to run thin. He has to get her and their kids to the clubhouse for lockdown. They don’t have time for this.
“I’m not Donna,” she suddenly blurts out though the moment she does, she wishes she could take it back. She never mentions her to him. She sees the way he still tenses the instant his dead wife is brought into conversation and Lyla stands up, going to him. He only tenses more though when she touches his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” she shakes her head and sighs heavily. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
Opie stares at her for a moment and then slowly uncrosses his arms, his hands dropping down to his sides before he slides them onto her hips, almost hesitantly. “There’s some things going on right now… people out to hurt the club or anyone that has to do with us.”
She stares up at him, her heart still pounding her chest, and now her stomach begins to churn. “Does this happen a lot?”
“Not a lot,” he answers, his eyes watching her intently, trying to gauge a reaction from her. “But when it happens, we keep our people safe. You and Piper… you’re with me now, Lyla. And sometimes, that’s not a good thing.”
She doesn’t know what to say to that so he continues.
“I already lost a wife,” he says, his voice lower now, and she can’t help the shiver that rakes down her spine. “I know I won’t be able to take it if anything happens to you.”
Lyla stands up on her toes and presses her lips to him, Opie instantly responding, his hands lifting to her cheeks, framing her face. As he kisses her, as her fingers curl into the black leather of his cut, as his beard scratches her chin already with a familiarity that she craves, she almost makes him promise her that everything is going to be alright. Even if it is a lie, she wants to hear it.
“I’m scared,” she admits once they slowly separate, their lips remaining just a few centimeters apart, both of them sharing the same puffs of air. “I don’t know… I don’t know how to handle this. I don’t know if I can handle this.”
“You need to, Lyla,” he says and then clears his throat. “I need you… to. Handle it.” His hands remain on her cheeks, keeping her head tilted up so he can keep looking into her eyes. And then, as if reading her mind, he says, “I promise that I will do whatever I have to do to keep you and the kids safe.” He gives her another kiss, shorter, lighter but it still makes Lyla close her eyes and want more. “It’ll be alright. But right now-”
“You need me to pack,” she finishes and he nods but she doesn’t move away from him just yet. “What about you? Will you…” she swallows, dreading the mere thought. “Will you be safe?”
He simply stares at her and she knows that if he promises her that he will be safe and everything with him will be alright, that really will be a lie and he doesn’t want to lie to her. She hates that she appreciates his honesty.
She cuts him off, kissing him again, circling her arms tightly around his neck. She doesn’t care that they are in a hurry and has to get to the clubhouse as quickly as possible. Right now, she wants to kiss him because from the look in his eyes – a look that terrifies her more than anything ever has before – she isn’t sure when, or if, she will get another chance.