Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7250434.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Sons_of_Anarchy
  Relationship:
      Colleen_Trager/Tig_Trager, Luann_Delaney/Otto_Delaney, Original_Female
      Character(s)/Original_Female_Character(s), Original_Female_Character(s)/
      Original_Male_Character(s), Clay_Morrow/Gemma_Teller_Morrow
  Character:
      Colleen_Trager, Tig_Trager, Luann_Delaney, Otto_Delaney, Original_Female
      Character(s), Original_male_character_(s), Gemma_Teller_Morrow, Clay
      Morrow, Dawn_Trager, Fawn_Trager, Thomas_Teller_I, Jax_Teller
  Additional Tags:
      Drug_Abuse, underage_drug_abuse, Death_Personification, Minor_Blackouts,
      Self-harming, Illegal_Activities, Child_Funerals, Implied/Referenced
      Starving, Father/Daughter_Incest
  Series:
      Part 8 of Live_a_Little
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-20 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 8938
****** Tragers ******
by LovelyPlantPrincess
Summary
     Tig's a little fucked up in the head - common knowledge,
     It's because he comes from a family of psychopaths - uncommon
     knowledge.
Notes
     WARNING: This is an EXTREMELY dark story to fit Tig's EXTREMELY dark
     background. There are things in here that I advise against reading.
     It does speak of how Luann and Otto got Perseus and Pandora however,
     so I'll do a brief rundown in the next chapter. Tread with EXTREME
     caution.
     AN's: OKAY, I hope everyone is ready for what I’m about to lay on
     them.
     So, I was writing this story and I wanted to play more with our fave
     younger characters as infants/toddlers before we moved onto the parts
     of the story where I’m able to write from their points of view
     because they’re preteens/teens/young adults. So I looked at the
     timeline, basically gave Kurt Sutter and HIS timeline a giant middle
     finger (just kidding btw, I love Sutter to pieces) and decided to do
     as follows:
     In Canon, Opie and Jax have a two year age difference - Opie being
     two years older than Jax. As adults, you don’t notice it, because as
     adults - you don’t care about that type of stuff. But writing them as
     kids, I realized - if Jax is three, that makes Opie five. He won’t
     want to play with Jax - he’ll see him as a big baby. So I took a year
     off their age difference - now they’re a year apart, yay! (I also
     went back to Holy Matrimony & Beautiful Girls and got rid of the
     parts where it mentions Mary being knocked up/Piney having a
     newborn).
     In Canon, Jax and Thomas have a SIX YEAR age difference. And me,
     being the pouty baby author that I am, didn’t want to give up baby
     Jackson in exchange for baby Thomas. So, I cut that difference in
     half - now, they only have a three year age difference. While Thomas
     is a baby, Jax is still a toddler. Yay, I get my way!
     I also made Dawn & Fawn only a year younger than Jax instead of two
     years younger than him. So that they're closer in age and less
     awkward.
     ALSO (because I don’t think I mention it) Gemma and Luann got
     pregnant around the same time in this story. So Thomas and Atlas are
     born in the same month (I kept Thomas’ canon birthday, January 8th.
     And made it so that Atlas was born two weeks later. January 29th).
     Again, just for bonding purposes between Gemma and Luann.
      
     Sorry if the changes are confusing, and if anything doesn’t make
     sense, leave it below - I’ll try to explain better. Hope you enjoy
     the first dark installment of Live a Little.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Alexander ‘Tig’ Trager
 Part I
It’s the day after the girls’ second birthday party and the Trager household is
still covered in brightly colored silly string, streamers, confetti and
glitter. The ‘Happy Birthday’ banner that Jackson and Opie spent  hours
helping to color dangles loosely from over the hallway arch, and pink and blue
balloons are still floating around at the ceiling - after having accidentally
been released by a grabby baby Thomas. A half-eaten princess cake is wrapped
and resting at the center of a icing covered table, and there’s an abundance of
crumbs on the floor and table from the burgers, hotdogs, and chips that had
been the menu for the party.
The birthday party had quickly turned into a sleepover amongst the children.
After they had stuffed their bellies on cake and ice cream, and exhausted
themselves on the trampoline, it had been an easy lights out. Thomas and Atlas
had fallen asleep first, settled into the girls’ old cribs for the night.
Followed by Fawn, Opie, Jackson and lastly Dawn - the girls’ guests in sleeping
bags that they’d had the forethought to lug over. And so the adults had simply
decided to stay the night as well - it’d been awhile since they’d had the time
to get together without the kids bugging them. They enjoy a glass of wine, play
with the helium from the balloons, and then find various places to crash as
well. And they awake early enough the next morning to begin cleaning up the
mess that the kids and their out-of-the-club playmates had left behind.
They’ve just begun cleaning when someone’s fist raps harshly at the front door
- practically banging the door down. Tig, Clay, Otto and Piney - all of which
of whom just begun to take the balloons down from the ceiling - exchange
nervous glances, and immediately the balloons are released back to their place.
Their hands go to the back of their waistband and they draw their pistols -
ready to shoot anyone come to potentially harm or separate them from their
family.
Moments like these are when the Reaper on Tig’s back comes back to haunt him -
whispering in his ear and taunting him with his stiff elongated fingers. On the
count of three, the younger man leans forward and swings open the front door -
immediately training his gun on the figures standing there.
He’s surprised to find that they’re not Mayans or Nords - come to take a low
blow and hurt one of his girls. They’re not law either - Unser and his henchmen
haven’t arrived to make another ambiguous arrest that keeps him in holding for
a night or two. Nor do they look like any other enemy they may have made over
the years - in fact, they’re not potential foes at all.
Tig is too shocked to gesture to his brothers to lower their weapons, but his
lowers slowly out of genuine surprise. His jaw goes slack, his eyes widen to
the size of tea saucers. He thought he’d put them in his past.  All  of them.
Tan skin. Long limbs. Shining azure eyes. Curly black hair. It was like staring
in a gender-bending mirror.
“What are you two doing here?” he asks, unable to hide the hostility in his
tone. He had tried to erase his childhood from his present - putting his past
to rest forever. He wanted a future for all of his girls - Dawn, Fawn and
Colleen. Two of his younger sisters suddenly popping up out of the blue wasn’t
helping the cause. “How’d you find this address?”
“You have a felonious record - your address was on your parole officer’s
paperwork. He doesn’t seem to like you very much - he gave it to us without
much of a fight,” the older one says, fidgeting with her hands and averting her
eyes. Tig remembers her as being joyous, comedic, and radiant in childhood - he
recalls her bringing a bit of happiness and laughter to their dismal living
situations in the past. He sees none of that in her at the moment - she looks
like a shell of her former self. Empty, but if he  had  to place an emotion,
he’d say melancholy. “Can we come in? It’s important.”
Tig turns back to his brothers, all of which still have their guns aimed at the
two girls. Both of his sisters stare the weapons down - as if the prospect of
being shot on sight no longer scares them. He doesn’t need to wonder how many
times they’ve stared down the barrel of a gun, or been on the very brink of
eating a bullet. He’d been there when his mother and father had gotten them
into those messes - been the one to sweet talk them out.
He gestures for the SAMCRO members to put their pistols away and does the same
for himself - flicking the safety back on and tucking the gun into the back of
his waistband. For now, he wouldn’t shoot the girls dead on his doorstep. But
if this was some sort of trick his father was pulling, he’d murder them all in
cold blood. Every last Trager, right down to the little ones - who wouldn’t be
so little anymore. No one was putting the hurt on his family.
“You’re not staying long,” he reluctantly concedes, beckoning them inside the
house. As previously mentioned, he didn’t want them anywhere within a hundred
mile radius of his daughters, his wife or his friends. But he’s willing to hear
them out - if they went to the trouble of finding his parole officer, whatever
they wanted must be dire. Even if it wasn’t - he could kill a few moments. The
Club was taking a break - most members were out of town for the summer, there
was no immediate Club business to attend to. He had the time to waste.
“We don’t plan to,” the younger sister snarls, pushing past him. Both of the
girls slip through the hallway, and he follows them back to the living area. He
follows at their heels - making sure that their hands don’t wander past
themselves, and that nothing from his house would suddenly go missing. He
wouldn’t think they’d be the ones to ruin his life, but Tig wouldn’t put them
above thieving.
Walking behind them, he can’t help but notice how sickly they look. Both girls
wear a pair of jean shorts that stop right below the arse, a thin cotton tank
top, sparkly jeweled sandals and a bag around their shoulder. He guesses the
choice of clothing is to combat the heat, but that’s not what has him furrowing
his brow. He’d seen Colleen, Gemma and Luann wear similar outfits, and he can
tell something is amiss. The shorts aren’t tight on their bottoms like they’re
designed to be, and the tank tops don’t hug their breasts either. It seems as
if the clothes dangle off of the girls bodies - as if the girls themselves are
hangars.
He realizes it’s because they’re extremely thin. As if they’d been starved for
almost weeks on end before eating something.
Both girls plop down in the couch still covered with sticky silly string and
Tig settles in the armchair diagonal from them - still examining their tiny
frames. By now, the women have come to see what was holding up their husbands,
so they too join the group in the living room. They stop in their tracks at the
sight of the two girls, and immediately put up protective defenses. Crossed
arms, scowls - the works of old lady hazing.
Tig’s friends find varying spots around the living room - Clay pressed against
the wall with his arm wrapped protectively around Gemma’s shoulders, Piney
perched on the arm of the couch and Mary’s hands resting assuringly on his
shoulder’s, Otto sitting reverse cowgirl on a dining room chair with Luann
sitting on the floor in front of him. Colleen rests on the arm of Tig’s chair
and takes his hand comfortingly in hers. They’re all focused on the two girls -
waiting to see who they are and what’s so important.
“Who are these chicks, Tig?” Clay asks, his voice gruff and harsh. Tig was his
best friend and had been so for a very long time. But if he was going to bring
heat to the Club’s doorstep, he needed to be informed as soon as possible.
Mysterious girls knocking on doors and spewing nonsense about urgent matters
was definitely something he should be kept informed on.
“They’re my sisters,” he replies, his tone unenthusiastic. He gestures to the
older one - the one that had been doing the most talking. “That’s Victoria. The
other one is Charlotte.”
“Alex, you need to come back to Sacramento. There’s been an accident,” Victoria
explains, after greeting her brother’s friends. She seems to be the one with
her head screwed on straight - so far, her tone had been polite and she had
been clear about their intentions. “It’s urgent, and we’re reluctant move
forward without you. Of course, if you don’t want to, we’ll have no choice and
we’re not going to force you.”
Tig can feel the Reaper’s bony fingers tickling at the nape of his neck - the
tips of the bone running down his skin, catching a drop of sweat before it soak
through the collar of his shirt. His stomach flips at the words ‘accident’ and
‘urgent’, and he subconsciously leans forward in his seat - away from the
Reapers light touch - clasping Colleen’s hand in his. She gives him a
reassuring squeeze, and he looks up at her with a small, sad smile.
“What kind of accident?” he asks, after a missed beat. Victoria begins to
fidget in her seat - her hands immediately go to the brown fringe satchel slung
across her shoulder. She toys with the strap on the bag, running it between her
hands in rapid succession. “Victoria?
She peers up at her brother eventually, and there are tears brimming in her
crystal blue orbs. She turns to look at Charlotte, of whom puts a reassuring
hand on her shoulder and nods. Victoria blinks a few times, and tears spill out
of her eyes and over her cheeks, running her mascara.
“Nicholas’ meth lab exploded a few days ago, although I don’t recall all the
details - I was in a shock when the police informed me,” she exhales
eventually, with a small shudder. “Nicholas, Tracy, Alexis, Randall, and
Jonathan are all dead. Alexis, Randall and our parents died from the fire but
toxicology reports say Jonathan died from methamphetamine overdose and that he
was dead long before the explosion. We believe that dad was testing his new
concoction on him - it was supposed to make the high last longer.”
The Reaper places both skeletal hands on his shoulders and it feels as if the
air leaves Tig’s lungs. It’s breath puffs on the back of his neck and snakes
around to fill his nostrils - the smell of charred flesh and rotted corpse
making him nauseous. For a moment, the world drops out of view and it’s just
him and Mr. Mayhem - staring each other down, a ten-pace gunfight. He can hear
his father’s drunken slurs faintly, tucked underneath his little brothers’
laughter, his sisters giggles and his mother’s loud cursing. It distracts. His
hand slips. He’s too late.
The Reaper wins the duel.
Tig exhales sharply and snatches his hand away from Colleen - burying his face
in his hands instead. He feels a sharp pain in his nose that indicates he’s
about cry, and his temple begins to pound. Alexis, Randall and Jonathan. They
were the youngest - the last of the Trager kids. It had been ten years since he
had seen them, so that would put them at seventeen, fourteen and twelve this
year. A senior and a freshman in high school and a sixth grader, and his father
had already been putting them to work in a meth lab. Using his youngest as a
fucking  guinea pig .
It had costed them their lives. Lives that they had yet to even begin.
He was able to recall so many memories about the three of them. Johnny was only
two when he fled, but he still had memories with him. He remembered changing
his diapers as a baby, staying up late with his little brother cradled in the
crook of his arm and his textbooks splayed in his lap, giving him baths and
playing in the suds. He remembered Johnny was the happy baby - he was the
Trager savior. Tig can only imagine what he’d been like the day he died -
strung out, loopy, dazed out of his mind. Like Victoria, a shell of his former
self.
He remembered Randall too. Randall was an angry toddler. He threw temper
tantrums often, and it was more often than not that Alex was forced to watch
him take a beating from his father. By the time he sent Randy to his first day
of kindergarten, he was known for kicking, biting, hitting and scratching
whenever he didn’t get his way. But he had good moments too. When he wasn’t
having a fit, he was sweet and he loved coloring, drawing, or painting. Tig
still had some of the pictures he’d colored for him as a kid - he’d stuffed
them at the bottom of his bag when he ran.
And Alexis - or, better known as Lexi. She was the apple of their mother’s eye
- the only child that could get the woman out of her stupor for more than a
handful of minutes. She was funny, she was kind, she was gentle. She was the
perfect epitome of what a ‘disney princess’ should be, and that’s what she
always said she wanted to be when she grew up. She wanted to be Aurora, and
wear glittery pink dresses. Lexi loved her pink and her glitter.
But those kids were dead. The kid that he had been in the midst of raising. The
two bright kids that had always been so excited to show off to him. They were
gone forever and he would never be able to say goodbye.
“Baby,” Colleen whispers, bringing him back to Earth. He’d been staring blankly
off into space and listening to Victoria rattle off the autopsy reports -
allowing tears to roll down his face as he stood in the middle of the carpet.
He doesn’t even know how he got there. She cups his face and holds him still,
making sure that he’s staring in her eyes. Hers are glassy as well and brimmed
with tears. She was aching for him too. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I
can’t imagine how awful this is. I’m sorry.”
He bobs his head numbly and she slowly pull him down for a tight embrace. He
buries his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder and finally releases the
pent up emotions and thoughts. Tig sobs uncontrollably, the shudders raking
through him in waves. Slowly, they sink to their knees in the carpet and his
wife holds him there.
There’s a solemn silence all around as his closest friends - the people he’d
considered his brothers and sisters for a long while - and his sisters watch
him fall apart at the very seams. They give him the time he needs to process
the news - all the while processing it for themselves.
After a few minutes of choked sobs, Tig finally pulls away from his wife and
turns back to Victoria and Charlotte. Victoria has long since wiped away her
tears and is attempting to keep her cheeks dry and remain strong for both her
brother and sister. She was like that when they were younger as well - always
trying to be strong for the little ones, trying to hold on because the younger
kids didn’t know how to.
There are a few tears pouring down Charlotte’s cheeks, but a scowl curls her
lips down and betrays the sadness in her eyes.
“What can I do?” asks Tig, after taking several deep breaths. It’s taking him a
long while to recollect himself - the loss of his parents is meaningless to
him, but of the three innocent souls? Especially considered he’d practically
raised them up until he ran away - they’re basically his children. He basically
just lost three of his children. “I want to help - I mean,  anything .”
“Here, here,” Clay and Otto chorus behind him. He turns to give them a nod of
appreciation, and is shocked to find that even  they  have glassy eyes. Otto
clears his throat and nods towards Victoria and Charlotte. “Whatever you need.
Food, money, somewhere to sleep, whatever. We can help you.”
“All expenses have been paid for - they made a bunch of expensive,  illegal
connections in their lifetime. We had mom and dad’s funeral last week - I
didn’t want you there, I had no idea how you would act,” Victoria explains,
sitting forward on the couch. Her hair falls into her face, so she tucks a few
strands behind her ear, and everyone in the room gets a glimpse of a series of
scars on her inner-wrist. “We’re having the kids’ funerals this weekend.
There’ll be no viewing of the body - with the explosion and the fire… there’s
not much to view that wouldn’t scar some folks. Lexi’s funeral is on Thursday,
Randy’s is on Friday, Johnny’s is on Saturday and then we’re doing a family
bonfire to celebrate their lives on Sunday. All we ask, is that you come to pay
your respects and participate in the bonfire.”
“I want to do more,” Tig repeats, feeling as though he’s running on autopilot.
“How can I help?”
Charlotte chooses this moment to finally speak up. She’d been stewing in her
wrath for the entire time that she and her sister had been there, and the break
her brother had made in the conversation was her opening to make her voice
known.
“You had your chance to help years ago and you  blew  it!” she snaps finally.
Victoria tries to chastise her, but Charlotte insists. “No, no, Tori. Let him
hear this. After you ran away, Tori took the impact of Nick’s wrath - and he
was  pissed , too. ‘Cause you were his best dealer. So she let him  beat  her.
She let him  rape  her. She let him do whatever he wanted because she was just
optimistic that  you  got out. Nick tortured her for  years  after you ran off
- and there was nothing we could do to help, because we didn’t know where you
had gotten off to. We had no information to give him, so we sat there and
listened to her scream! Listened to her cry! For years!”
Charlotte’s crying heavily now, steady streams of tears trailing down her
cheeks and leaving a path of muddied eyeliner and mascara. With each word, Tig
feels another stab of guilt in his chest - he slowly realizes that he did, in
fact, kill his younger sisters. And harm his little sister as well.
“Then Nick got tougher with  us . He chained us up sometimes, you know that?
Sometimes he didn’t feed the little ones, or he would make us watch him beat
them. When we didn’t meet our weekly dealing quota, we didn’t eat, or shower,
or use the toilet for a week. He beat me so hard one day that we told the
emergency room ladies I got hit by a car and they  believed  it. Victoria got
pregnant three times , and he never showed her mercy! After Johnny turned five,
we never saw him again. He reported him missing to the police, but Lexi told
us. She was the only one allowed in the trailer. Nick was testing out drugs on
him like some fucking guinea pig! Tracy just got drunk and pimped herself out -
she was never there for us. She just sat back, popped out more baby dealers,
ignored our screams for her. We  needed  you. We  cried  for you. All we ever
wanted was for you to come back and make it better again. You always knew how
to make him stop and go away. You just weren’t there.”
The young girl barks out a bitter laugh, and Victoria desperately tries to get
her to stop talking - tugging on her arm and murmuring things that only
Charlotte can hear. A part of Tig wants his younger sister to stop talking too
- he never wanted any of his friends to hear what his family life had truly
been, of why he’d really run away to the Marines so young. It was dark shit,
and he didn’t want to burden any of them with that. But another part of him
needs to hear  more  - needs to know the truth of what happened after he left.
He never expected Nicholas Trager to simply be hunkie dorie with him running
away from home - Charlotte wasn’t lying when she said that Tig had been his
father’s best dealer - but he also didn’t expect him to take it out on the
kids.
“You know why the lab exploded? ‘Cause Nick was drunk and trying to show Randy
the ropes. Randy, who had no role models after you left. So he looked to our
meth dealing pappy as a superhero! He looked up to  you ! Admired  you ! And
you  left him behind! You left us all!”
Charlotte’s in hysterics now - she’s on her feet, laughing maniacally as tears
stream down her face. It’s obvious that the years of torture endured by their
father had taken their effect on her psyche, and Tig can’t help but feel an
insurmountable weight of guilt. He always knew his leaving Sacramento would
have its own consequence - he’d just prayed it wouldn’t bounce back to his
siblings. He hadn’t seen any reason for it to come back and hit his brothers
and sisters in the face.
Now, not only were three of his siblings dead, but one of them obviously had a
few of her screws knocked loose, and another was hurting herself. All due to
his selfishness.
“Keep your voice down,” Luann tries to scold, but it’s too late. Two separate
pairs of infant-like wails come from up the stairs - mere milliseconds
following Charlotte’s outburst. It can only be two children crying in such a
fashion - five week old Thomas and four week old Atlas. Gemma and Luann
politely excuse themselves, and the group of adults wait until the crying is
completely silent before speaking again.
“I didn’t know there were little ones,” Charlotte says, her voice quieter but
just as delirious. There’s a burning fury in her blue eyes that Tig isn’t
accustomed to seeing - Charlotte had always been sarcastic, cynical, and a tad
bit pessimistic, but she was never angry. “I’ll try and  control  myself.”
“I’ll be there for everything,” says Tig, after a long pregnant pause. His is
voice meek and ashamed - two things that could never be attributed to his
personality. For the first time since the age of sixteen, he’s showing a bit of
humility - a bit of modesty. “I’m sorry - I didn’t know. If I had known, I
would’ve done something earlier. Charlie - you have to understand that. I
would’ve gotten you to a safe place. I should’ve… I’m sorry.”
He knew better than to waste time on  should've  and  what if . There was
nothing  he could do about the past - but he was eager to try and fix the
present.
“It’s fine,” Victoria says, grabbing Charlotte by her arm and yanking her
towards the door. It’s obvious that this family reunion was over - to be
continued at his youngest sister’s funeral in the following two days. “Tracy
and Nick’s families want nothing to do with them. It’ll be a little empty at
the funerals - amongst the nine of us, we only had a handful of outside
friends. You should bring your friends along.”
“Will do,” Tig nods, suddenly feeling extremely drained. The rollercoaster of
emotions that had been this visit was already taking his toll on him - the idea
of even starting on cleaning his house made him grimace. He stands and follows
them to the door politely. He’d let them out of his eyesight and they’d
suffered from it before. He’d never forgive himself if he did it again. “I’ll
see you both Thursday.”
“Yeah, here…” Victoria takes a pen from her satchel and scribbles her number
onto the back of his hand. “Call me and I’ll tell you the funeral home address.
I don’t know it by heart. Have a good evening Alex - sorry, about all of this.”
“I should be the one apologizing,” he sighs, looking towards his younger
sister. Charlotte snorts and slips out of the house - marching towards a
familiar dusty blue volkswagen with multiple dents and scratches in it. It was
his father’s old car - he remembers many nights of climbing into the passenger
and driving into the city, tiny baggies that couldn’t weigh more than a gram
making his sweater pockets feel heavy and laden.
He looks to Victoria in hopes that she’ll take pity and validate his efforts.
She seemed to be willing to try more than Charlotte was.
“We’ll see you Thursday,” Victoria says in reply, ignoring the half-assed
apology altogether. She practically melts into the hug they share, and she
pulls him closer to him so that she could inhale his scent. Bourbon, motor oil,
and old spice. So different from the smell of soap, cheap cologne, and smoke
that followed him when he was sixteen. “I’ve missed you, Alex.”
“I’ve missed you too, Tori,” he responds, hugging her just as tightly as she
hugs him. He grimaces at the way he can feel her shoulder blades through the
cloth of her shirt, and wonders when the last time it was that she had a full
meal.
When they pull away from the hug, there’s a renewed sense of hope in her eyes.
She gives him a final hesitant smile before following Charlotte to the car. Tig
watches after them until the tail lights are little red dots on the road, his
eyes watering. Only a single thought is able to pass through his mind.
How could he have fucked up this badly?
***** Part II *****
Chapter Summary
     Otto gains more happiness than he bargained for.
Otis ‘Otto’ Delaney
 Part II
Otto feels guilty for thinking it, but he can’t help but feel an overwhelming
amount of relief when Sunday morning finally comes around.
It’s not Tig’s fault that he feels this way, either. In fact, it’s not anyone’s
fault that he feels this way. But he and Luann had been talking to Charlotte -
who had fallen in love with Atlas as soon as she saw him in his carrier - a lot
over the past three days that they’d been there, and they’d heard things from
her that had made their stomachs twist and their hearts contract. Otto couldn’t
stand seeing these children - who were grown now, adults - that were forced
into a world of misery by two people who took for granted the beauty of life.
Meanwhile, he and Luann will never have another child of their own again.
They’d both been thrilled when they found out Luann was pregnant - Otto more so
than Luann - and they hadn’t known about the complications with her uterus.
What Otto didn’t know was, when Luann was working for the porn company in New
Jersey, she was forced to do a lot of videos where the male actors didn’t wear
condoms. It was what that particular underground company was known for - not
forcing their actors to have protection, giving the viewers the thrill of risk.
She did birth control, but it didn’t always work the way she planned and she
wound up getting pregnant  five  times.
Her director forced her to get an abortion each time - Luann was a high-paying
actress, he couldn’t afford to wait for her to have a baby. At the time, she
didn’t mind - she didn’t want kids anyways, she could barely support herself.
But the abortions were done in a sketchy apartment, and the retired ‘doctor’
that had done them, had botched up her uterus pretty bad.
Her doctors were surprised she’d even managed to get pregnant, and that Atlas
was so far - doing well. She managed to get through the pregnancy without any
hiccups - nothing that could cause red flags. It was when she gave birth that
was the problem. It was extremely hard for Luann to have their son - and the
doctors noticed it was taking quite awhile for her to give birth. And it wasn’t
Atlas - he was a perfectly healthy baby, besides being a little smaller than
what was normal. It Luann herself - as Atlas was leaving her womb, it seemed as
if he was dragging her uterus with him. They had to perform a hysterectomy to
get both Luann and their son out of the delivery room alive.
They couldn’t even try to have children again. Of course, they were elated that
Atlas was healthy and alive. He ate well, he slept well, he rarely cried, - he
didn’t have any illnesses, he wasn’t a problematic baby. He was their little
miracle baby. But they were also depressed - during the early pregnancy, Luann
had decided that since the baby she was having at the time was going to slow
down her work anyways, her and Otto might as well work on starting their
family. They had gotten this new house with all of these bedrooms - Luann’s cap
was three, but Otto was positive he could convince her to have a fourth child.
They had so many big, bright plans crushed because of a few teenage mistakes.
So being around the Trager children, and hearing what they’d endured - hearing
that the only reason their parents had children in the first place was because
Nicholas needed new drug dealers… it was starting to take a toll on Otto. He
was exhausted. He just wanted to go home, and put Tig’s history where it
belonged - in the past.
The Bonfire wasn’t to be held until the sun had set - Tig had said something
about it being in the tradition - so Otto and Luann don’t start getting ready
until five. They shower together while Atlas naps - something they did often,
an innocent act most times - and Otto doesn’t even notice the sad expression on
her face until he’s pulling on his jeans.
Luann’s bent over the crib that Victoria had loaned them, and he can hear her
singing softly. She didn’t sing often - not even to Atlas. Luann sang as a
means to try and cheer herself up - and judging by the solemnity of the lyrics,
she wasn’t doing a good job.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Otto asks, reaching for his shirt.
Luann doesn’t turn around when - with a hoarse voice tainted with tears - she
replies, “Fifteen.”
“Fifteen, what?”
“Fifteen  children , Otto,” Luann whispers, running a finger down a sleeping
Atlas’ cheek. She bends over to press a kiss to their sons head before turning
and grabbing her sundress from the edge of the bed. “Nicholas and Theresa had
fifteen children in their lifetime. Ten of them are live today, one of them was
a stillborn, one of them suffered from Lou-Gehrig disease, and three of them
were murdered. Nick and Tracy had fifteen chances to fix their mistakes and
they fucked it up each time. We only have one. What if we let him down?”
“Lu, stop thinking like that,” Otto sighs, pulling her into his arms. “We’re
not letting him down - we’re nowhere near comparable to Nick and Tracy Trager.
‘Cause we love Atlas, and we’d lay our lives on the line if it meant saving
his. Trust me, Lu, I’m doing everything in my power to give him the  best life
possible.”
Sometimes Otto did question Clay, and gun-running. Sometimes, when he sat back
and thought of the grand scheme of things - getting arrested or killed running
illegal guns was not the direction he wanted his life to go in. But it was
questions like these - questions that centered around his wife and son - that
enforced the absolute trust he put in his MC’s President. Otto was making
money. And the money he was making, but his wife up in a fancy five bedroom,
four full bathroom, two half bathroom, pool and hot tub type of house.
“Yeah, but… what you’re doing is illegal, too. What if you get arrested, and he
doesn’t have a father growing up? That’s not the best life possible, Otto,” she
insists, sniffling. Luann pulls away from him to slip into her dress, and when
he tries to pull her back, she shrugs off his touch. Slowly, Luann begins to
brush her blonde locks of hair, and she stares at his reflection in the mirror.
“When Gemma and I were in the hospital together, I wasn’t allowed to see Atlas
yet. So instead, I wheeled her down to see Thomas. And while she was watching
him through the glass, she told me, ‘I just want my sons to approve of me’. I
didn’t understand what she meant until today.”
His wife gives a sad laugh before continuing with, “As a kid, you just want
your parents to be proud of you. And as a parent, it’s reversed. All I want is
for Atlas to be proud of who his family is. I don’t want him to be like Gemma -
us not being satisfied with how he turned out and him being too scared to try
and mend old fences. Or like me - him never seeing us, not even his cousins for
years on end. Or like Tig - his life with us being so traumatizing that he
can’t stand the idea of us going anywhere near him. I don’t want to be like the
Tragers - I don’t want to fuck my son over. I want Atlas to  want  to come home
when he’s older.”
“And he will,” Otto assures, although it’s hard to speak around the lump in his
throat. “I promise.”
Luann turns to look at her husband, one of those melancholy smiles gracing her
lips. “But baby, that’s just one thing in the world you  can’t  promise me.”
And he can fight her all he wants, but Otto knows she’s right.
--
Otto takes his bike to the beach where they’re having the bonfire, but he still
doesn’t let Luann out of sight. The trio of bikes leads a sort of processional
for their wives cars - Clay taking the lead, followed by Gemma’s cadillac,
Luann’s convertible, and Collen’s pick-up truck. Tig and Otto ride side by side
behind them - a routine that they’ve fallen into for whenever they have family
outings like this. None of the girls’ cars could fit all three women, both the
carseats for the babies, and all three booster seats for the toddlers, so they
always wound up taking their own cars places. Sometimes it looked a bit like a
funeral processional to outsiders, and they’d been told that by Charming
residents more than once.
When they park in the manmade beaches parking lot, Otto is surprised to find
that the two new youngest Trager siblings, Jordan - who was twenty-one - and
Benjamin - who was nineteen - are waiting for them by their car.
Many things about the scene of the two boys surprises him. The fact that a girl
that looks to be in her early twenties waits beside Jordan, with a one-year-old
child on her hip. Or the fact that Jordan even has a car in the first place -
considering the dangers that Nicholas must’ve known he’d be facing when he got
him a car, because it was damn sure that the kid hadn’t gotten a car of his own
in the nine days of freedom he’d had.
As soon as Tig has dismounted from his bike, Jordan, Benjamin and the girl
stride over to him. Otto lingers by his bike warily - adjusting his helmet on
the back, cleaning his riding glasses. He tries to kill time so that he could
watch his brother’s back.
“We’ve been waiting forever - everyone came early except for you,” Benjamin
teases, slugging Tig in the shoulder. “Jordan thought it’d be best if we gave
you a little bit of warning, before you go down there.”
“Yeah?” Tig asks, tugging his riding gloves off. Jordan looks to what Otto
guesses is his girlfriend and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before
turning back to his brother.
“After about six years of serious violence towards us, Nick eventually let up.
He forgot what he was punishing us for. We got a little bit more freedom - we
still had to work of course, but we could have days off, too. And when the
girls got pregnant by their boyfriends, Nick was… he wasn’t mean about it. We
think he truly did love his grandchildren, or something. So some of us have
families - we met people, we fell in love. But Victoria…”
Jordan trails off with a disgusted look on his face, so Benjamin picks up where
he left off. “Victoria wasn’t just raped by dad. He had his ‘friends’ rape her
too - he liked to give her away as a thank you gift, of sorts. Eventually, she
did meet someone and fall in love with them, and apparently they’re planning to
have a kid. But, for her first two children - she doesn’t know who their father
is.”
There it is again - that twinge of fury that Otto got whenever the kids spoke
of what they endured in that household. It seemed as if happiness seemed to
constantly evade him whenever the Trager squad was around.
“We’re just warning you - so you wouldn’t be surprised when you saw how
different they looked,” Jordan sighs. Then, turning to the woman tucked under
his arm, he grins. “On a brighter note, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend -
Jessica. And our son, Shiraz.”
“You named your son after a wine,” Otto chuckles in amusement, finally relaxing
his muscles. Now that he knew there wouldn’t be an altercation, he could stand
down. He steps away from his bike and turns to find the girls waiting patiently
with the kids, watching the exchange. It was obvious they’d come in when
Benjamin was telling Tig about Victoria - he can still read the disgust on
their face.
“What’s your kid’s name?” Jordan asks with a sly smirk, when Otto turns to take
Atlas from his carrier. The infant gurgles and laughs at the sight of his
father, before sticking his tiny fist in his mouth and grinning broadly.
“Atlas. Like the greek god that held the world on his shoulders,” Otto
explains, placing a towel over his shoulder and then resting the baby there.
“‘Cause you know, Atlas was seen as an honorable man due to his obligation to
the mortals.”
“Shiraz sounds way cooler,” Jordan harrumphs, taking his own son from Jessica.
“and you sound like Victoria with the greek god shit. All of her kids are named
after someone involved with Mount Olympus.”
“Speaking of kids - lets get going. I’m excited to meet the little ones, and
for them to meet my girls,” Tig says. Jordan grins at him and tugs him along -
there’s an extremely broad stairway that leads from the elevated parking lot to
the beach below, and the toddlers have fun making a race out of them.
Of course, they struggle tremendously - they all have stubby legs, and it’s a
struggle for them to get down the stairs without having to crawl. Clay hurries
ahead to make sure that none of them topple over or fall down the stairs, and
for a bit, Otto lightens up. It’s hilarious to watch their President chase
after Jackson, Dawn and Fawn - all three children split up, and it’s a wide
staircase, so he has to run after them - and the conversation amongst the
adults has picked up into something light. They’re sharing feeding stories -
it’s mostly the women talking, with the men adding their occasional input.
Eventually, they reach the beach and Clay is able to wrangle up the toddlers.
He returns to the group with Dawn and Fawn on each hip, and Jackson riding his
shoulder’s. For a split second, looking at him, Otto gets a twinge of sadness.
But it’s gone before he can think about it - they’ve arrived to the spot of the
bonfire. Morgan - the only other Trager boy besides Benjamin, Jordan and Tig -
is teasing the flames with a metal poker, and grinning at something a girl
around Jackson’s age is babbling about.
Jordan whistles loudly when they get closer to the fire, and the various
Tragers look up from what they were doing. Everyone’s face - except Charlotte’s
- lights up when they spot the new arrivals, and Otto, Tig, Clay, Jordan,
Benjamin, Colleen and the toddlers jog the rest of the way over. Luann, Gemma
and Jessica hang behind with the babies, so they take a little longer to catch
up.
The bonfire had obviously been set up with the idea that there would be babies
and toddlers around. Of course, a bonfire isn’t truly a bonfire without logs to
sit on, but it would’ve been difficult to change or feed a baby on a log. So
the logs had been pushed further back, and quilts had been laid out in front of
them. Thick, soft, patchwork quilts too - not thin sheets or scratchy blankets.
In front of some of the logs, there are assorted baby bags or children’s
backpacks - with toys spilled out onto the quilt. That’s how Otto knows that
Jordan’s timeline fits - made sense that as soon as they were allowed an inch
of freedom, those kids would rush into starting families of their own. They had
something to prove - that they weren’t like their parents, that they were
better than their parents. They could  be  better parents.
It takes awhile for everyone to get settled, but once they are, Victoria stands
to give the ceremony. She begins the opening of the ceremony speech - Tig says
that the eldest sibling was supposed to lead the ritual, but he’d long since
forgotten the traditional rites.
Otto sits on the blanket next to Luann and listens to Victoria give the
ceremonial speech - and for the first time, he feels warmth around him. The
point of the bonfire was to celebrate the lives of their siblings, and not
mourn their deaths - and the words that Victoria speaks are rich for the soul.
They send waves of amiability through his body.
Luann curls up to Otto with her head on his shoulder, occasionally reaching
across to rock Atlas in his carrier. He hadn’t even noticed that the infant had
fallen asleep, but he’s suckling slowly on his pacifer and his small fists have
loosened up.
Once Victoria finishes the ceremonial speech, she begins the ceremony itself.
“Charlotte, Riley, Morgan - present me with the tokens?” Victoria asks, her
voice honey sweet. Charlotte nods her head and steps up to offer the first item
of memorabilia - Alexis’ diary. Victoria passes it around the circle, and
indicates for them to follow Jordan’s lead. He takes the diary, presses a
tender kiss against it, and then passes it to Benjamin - who does the same.
They repeat this in an awkward half-circle - since Gemma is the last one, she
has to get up and return it to Morgan to continue the circle. When it reaches
Victoria again, she presses her lips against it and holds it close to her heart
before tossing it into the fire.
The next item of memorabilia - Randall’s lucky miniature stuffed clover.
Benjamin explains that he’d forgotten it at home the day of the explosion. It’s
passed around - kissed, just like the diary - and then tossed into the fire.
The last item is Jonathan’s old teddy bear. Otto is told that it had actually
been a family heirloom for a long while - first given to Tig by their
grandparents, and then passed down the line. Jonathan was the last child to
have it - from what Benjamin tells him, he still slept with it, even the night
before he died.
Once all the items have disintegrated into ash, everyone claps, cheers and
hollers for joy. Everyone except for the children - who just clap because they
see their parents, uncles and aunts clapping. Now, with the Kindling of the
Soul ceremonies are over, they don’t have to sit in such a formal half-circle
in front of the fire - and since there are only a handful of people in
attendance, it’ll be easy to huddle close to the fire and not be cramped in a
tight circle.
As soon as the toys, backpacks and baby bags are picked up, Otto helps the guys
move the logs and blankets around in a way that’s closer and more intimate.
When they’re finished, the semicircle has closed into a more of an oval - with
a few stray logs set in front of the fire so that they could complete their
goal. All of the patchwork quilts had been laid out in the center of the oval -
some of them had overlapped - and so the children could play comfortably under
the watchful eyes of their parents.
Otto settles back down on a log, and Luann sits cross legged on the quilt in
front of him. She takes Atlas - who is surprisingly, still asleep - out of his
carseat and lays him on the soft quilt, and the baby seems to enjoy sleeping
there much more than he did his carseat. She sets the carseat behind the log
Otto’s sitting on, along with Atlas’ baby bag.
“You know what?” a booming voice says. Everyone’s head swivels to see Riley -
the third oldest Trager girl - sitting next to an Arabian man that is
reasonably older than she is. Maybe about twice her age. Sitting with them are
three children - the oldest seeming to be around five or six. Otto knows that
Riley is just twenty-three - because she’s four years younger than Tig - so
that would mean she first got pregnant when she was seventeen. “I’m seeing a
lot of fresh faces, and a lot of new kiddos. We should go around - introduce
ourselves and our children.”
“Let’s make it fun and cute,” Riley adds, her voice bubbly. “If you’re a
Trager, add what you’re going to do with your life after tonight. If you’re
not, you can tell us whatever you want about yourself.”
There are murmurs of assent around the oval, and Riley claps her hands together
excitedly. It’s obvious that she was a bubbly person, and Otto wonders what
that kind of personality in a dark environment would’ve been like. “Okay, I
guess I’ll go first. For those that don’t know, my name is Riley and this is my
boyfriend - Ibrahim. This is our son, Sorrel, who is six. Our daughter, Sahara,
who’s three. And our other daughter, Sadi, who’s two.”
All three children look more like their father than their mother. They have his
thick dark hair and his cocoa colored skin. The only attribute that testifies
to their Trager background are the electric blue eyes that glisten in the glow
of the flames. Otherwise, they look completely unrelated to their mother.
“After tonight,” continues Riley, reaching forward to stack a few of Sadi’s
blocks. The toddler claps at her mother’s action, and rearranges the blocks to
her taste. “Ibrahim and I are going back to his house. He lives in a townhouse
in Stanford where he’s a professor at the college. We’re hoping to be a normal
family, finally. Your turn Charlie.”
Charlotte - who up until now, had been quietly humming to an infant in a car
seat similar to the one Atlas has, however, hers is pink and noticeably reused
- looks up. Her eyes scan the group, and when they land on Otto and Luann, she
gives a tiny smile.
“This is Lexi’s daughter - Esalia. She’s eight months old,” explains Charlotte,
reaching inside the car seat. “When Alexis got pregnant by a kid from school,
he bailed on her. He was a football superstar with a full-ride scholarship to
an Ivy League school - he couldn’t afford a baby to hold him back. When she
started dealing, she was the only one that had the foresight to get a will -
even though she was underage. If something was to happen to her, I’d get full
custody of Esalia. I gotta raise her now.”
There’s a solemn silence after Charlotte’s admission, and all of the adults
exchange saddened looks around the oval before Charlotte clears her throat.
“After tonight, I’m taking my niece to Seattle, Washington. Dad let up around
the time I graduated high school, so I’ve been taking online college courses
since I graduated high school. I have an associate’s in Nursing, and yesterday
I learned that I officially got a job at the children’s hospital in Seattle.”
The oval breaks out into a round of applause, and Charlotte’s cheeks burn
bright red. Otto flashes her two thumbs up. He knew that she would face a lot
of difficulties in her near future - raising a baby and working was difficult,
and he and Luann were quickly finding that out. But from what he knew about the
girl, she would be alright. She was headstrong on her good days, and stubborn
as a mule on her worst. Both she and the kid would be alright.
It’s obvious that it’s Victoria’s turn now. She had been joined at the bonfire
by a tall girl with bright green dye in her pixie cut hair, and a variety of
piercings and tattoos on her face and body. It was no secret that everyone was
eager to find out who this mystery girl was - including Otto, and he didn’t
know Victoria much beyond what Charlotte told him about her.
She was respectfully waits for all the applause to fizzle out before beginning.
“I’m Victoria and this is my girlfriend, Corin. This is my son, Perseus - who
is three. My daughter, Pandora, who’s one. And my step daughter, Lola, who is
two,” she introduces, her voice quiet.
Otto is shocked at how right Jordan was. Perseus and Pandora look nothing alike
- except for maybe the same smattering of freckles across the bridge of their
nose, and the same mouth shape, but that’s obviously from Victoria.
Perseus has a mop of messy champagne blonde hair, and shining viridescent eyes
whilst Pandora has wavy mahogany brown locks - with blunt bangs hanging
directly above her eyebrows - that are particularly long for her age and slate
colored eyes. Neither of them look like they could ever possibly be siblings.
Victoria inhales deeply before continuing. “After tonight, I’m taking Perseus
and Pandora to the local orphanage.”
There are gasps of shock around the oval, and murmurs of dissent from the
Tragers. Victoria’s face turns several shades of vermillion before she
proceeds.
“I didn’t want to tell anyone because I didn’t want to be the one to ruin the
celebrations but I have the paperwork in the car and everything. I’m giving
them up for adoption,” Victoria repeats, and it looks as if she’d been holding
that secret in for a lifetime. She seems relieved to say it, and Otto supposes
he’s glad she’s able to get it off her chest. “I just can’t do it. I was forced
to raised them because Nick is one crazy motherfucker and he would’ve killed me
if I tried to abort either of his friend’s  seedlings  but now that he’s dead?
I’m free, and I won’t raise his friend’s bastard spawn. I  can’t . I can’t look
them in the eyes every day and mother them proper. I feel nothing but a burning
hatred for those children - a loathing that I can’t escape. I need to get rid
of them.”
“You can’t just let strangers raise them,” Tig tries to reason, reaching across
to place his across hers. “They won’t understand why these children are the way
they are.”
“I don’t care! That’s the orphanage’s problem. Not mine - not anymore,”
Victoria says, her voice passionless and stony.
Otto bites his bottom lip, and suddenly he can’t take bystanding quietly any
longer. The Trager bloodline treated children so poorly that he’s not surprised
it didn’t die with Nick and Tracy. Of course someone had to continue the
tradition of maltreatment - it just happened to be Victoria that would be
another neglectful mother.
He opens his mouth to tell Victoria, but Luann surprises him by blurting out,
“We’ll take them off your hands.”
Suddenly, all eyes are on him and his wife. He turns to her to see if she’s
serious, and he’s surprised to find that she is - completely. There’s not a
hint of a smirk on her lips, and she’s now holding Atlas close to her chest as
if he’s a lifeline - as if Victoria was trying to take him away as well. Her
cerulean eyes are smoldering as they stare down Victoria, and Otto feels a
swell of pride in his chest.
“We’ll take them,” his wife repeats. “Both of them. If I have to stop working
to raise them, I will - I don’t care. You have the paperwork?”
“Y-yes,” Victoria stutters, rising to her feet. “I can go get it right now, if
you like? They can leave with you tonight.”
“Let’s do it,” Otto croaks, suddenly finding his voice. Luann looks to him, her
eyes shining and he leans down to kiss her passionately before continuing. “If
this is what you want, baby, I’m more than happy to oblige.”
“Alright,” says Luann, grinning broadly at the two children sitting in front of
Victoria and Corin. “Let’s get that paperwork signed.”
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