Breaking Heart

Chapter One

Disclaimer- I do not own anything from the Sons of Anarchy. I only own my characters, and the plotline. 'Kay? Don't sue me, because I have no money.

Warnings- Not gonna lie; there will be blood. Gore. Maybe a bit of love. And lots and lots of tears. You have been warned.

A/N- Here it is! The long awaited sequel to The Heart of a Broken Soul! Are you all excited? I am! Here's hoping you enjoy this story as much as the last!

Gabby watched with anticipation as the crowd around the clubhouse slowly grew. Most of them were croweaters, there to show their support because, as croweaters, it was expected of them. Through the smoke and crowd Gabby could make out Gemma, deep in conversation with Luann, who was allegedly shaping up to be a porn queen. Tig, Ope and Juice weren't there; they'd gone to collect the boys. By the cars, alone and nervous, was Debby or Danny, or whatever her name was; Ope's girlfriend rarely spent any time at the club, so Gabby didn't know her well.

In the distance came the unmistakable roar of motorcycles. It was faint at first, like a distant bee, but it grew louder and louder until the first bike thundered into the car park amidst cheers and screams. The rest followed in quick succession, threatening to bowl over anyone who didn't move out of the way fast enough.

With a fierce determination, Gabby elbowed her way through the sea of whores and beefy men to reach the front of them all. She'd finally learnt a year or so back that regardless of who she was, everyone would walk right over her if she didn't stand up. So Gabby pushed and shoved until she was on the front line, trying to distinguish one son from another.

The first to catch Gabby's eye was Bobby, if it was still Bobby; she recalled a man with wild hair and an equally free beard, whose eighth stomach had its own gut. This man still had the hair and the beard, but he looked half as big and twice as tall. His eyes looked the same, and his smile was nothing foreign, but there was something different about him, and Gabby couldn't help but wonder what happened in the two years they were away.

Bobby walked up to Gabby, smiling, and pulled her into a tight hug, crushing her as he refused to let go. After plenty of gasping and begging, he finally released her, motioning to the man who now stood in front of her, his brown hair outgrown and pulled into a rushed ponytail. A few strands escaped the band, landing in his eyes. He smiled his goofy smile, and Gabby lost it.

A small sob escaped her lips as she bowled into him, almost knocking them both to the ground, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, hungrily pressing her lips to his. Too long, Gabby told herself. Too long since she'd seen him or held him or kissed him.

Filip embraced her, returning the kiss just as enthusiastically. They broke apart, Filip grabbing her shoulders and inspecting her, as though making sure he'd just kissed the right person. He wiped a stray tear off Gabby's cheekbone.

"I missed you, Filip," Gabby told him. She fought to contain herself as all the want and desire that she bottled up over the past few years threatened to overwhelm her senses. She didn't care for the formalities or the party; the tearful hellos and prison horror stories about the twentieth time one of them almost died. She wanted Filip; all of Filip. His gentle fingers on her skin, his lips connected to hers. At the moment it was all she cared for.

Filip's lustful gaze said the same, but he restrained himself as he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Aye, I missed ye, too, love. I won't be goin' back in hurry, I promise ye tha'."

Gabby smiled, burying her face in his shoulder. "I'll make sure you stay out of trouble."

Clay appeared, then, clapping Filip on the shoulder. "Let's go, Chibs. Church, boys." He gave Gabby a quick hug, then the two men disappeared in the clubhouse.

Gabby watched them go wistfully. There were plenty of things for them to do when they got out of prison, but instead they went straight to church. How much longer would she have to suppress her longing? No doubt Filip would want to stay for the party, or some of it, at least. And after tonight, what would happen? The worry had been weighing on Gabby's mind for a while. Did he still love her? Would he still agree to her moving in with him? She had no qualms about living with Bobby, but she'd prefer to wake up next to Filip every morning, feel his lips on hers before she got up to face the world.

Bobby was the last to go in the clubhouse, his now proportional figure a daunting truth of how much prison could change a man. That he was at least half the weight he had been when he went in sent shivers down Gabby's spine. Had he changed on the inside, as well? Had Filip?

Gabby knew the men who had gone to that trial and listened as the judge gave them their sentences, but was she so sure she knew the men who were here now? Jax, for one, hadn't been in prison before. What did the place do to him? She wasn't an idiot; it would do something to all of them, change them in different ways, but she didn't know what would scare her the most; knowing prison did change them, or knowing it didn't. What kind of men would they be, if they were completely disaffected? Or, on the other hand, what kind of men were they now, after the trials and suffering they went through in that place? Better men, or worse?

There were footsteps, and Gemma appeared at Gabby's side, puffing on a cigarette and looking self-important. Gabby eyed her suspiciously. "You don't look too happy," the older woman said. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing. Why would anything be wrong?" Gabby asked. She was cautious to tell the woman anything, because she'd been poking around, trying to get information on Lucy, who was pregnant again.

"No reason. It's just the look on your face. I'd expect it to be brighter, now the boys are out of prison." Gemma blew a large billow of smoke out, and raised an eyebrow.

Gabby scoffed. "I'm fine, Gemma. Really."

"If you say so, baby," Gemma replied. She didn't say anything else, but her face remained alert and searching, as though she hoped that by watching Gabby carefully, she'd discover all the girl's deepest darkest secrets.

It was another half an hour before the boys reappeared, in which time the air was already filled with the smells of alcohol, cooking meat and smoke. Gabby was standing a few paces away from Opie's girlfriend when Filip walked over, beer in one hand, cigarette in the other. He jerked his head in the direction of the girl. "Who's tha'?" he asked.

"Ope's girlfriend. She doesn't really talk much; actually it's the first time I've seen her here," Gabby replied impatiently. She didn't want to talk about other girls.

Filip narrowed his eyes slightly. "Wha'?"

"You know what."

"No, I don'. Tha's why I'm askin'."

Before Gabby could reply, he shoved his beer in her hand. "Here, 'ave this. I'll get another one."

Gabby stared at the bottle, then up at Filip. "You're giving me alcohol?"

"Aye, why no'?" he asked. "Ye're an adult now."

Snorting, Gabby took a swig, scrunching her nose up at the taste. It was bland, fizzy and yeasty all at the same time. "I don't know how you can drink this stuff," she spluttered.

"Don't know how ye can't," Filip countered.

"Well, I've still got all my taste buds. That could be a reason."

Scoffing, Filip snatched the beer off her. "Fine; if ye don't want it, I'll have it."

"Yeah, well, it's not the beer I want."

Filip chuckled. "Don't think I've ever met a lass as impatient as ye are," he chortled. He kissed her lightly at first, running his free hand down her side and resting it on her thigh, before he deepened the kiss, hungrily and desperately.

A shock of pleasure ran through Gabby as she pulled him into her, their bodies moulding together. She'd counted down the days to this moment, the moment she could feel him in her and remember the pure ecstasy she felt all those years ago. It had been too long since she'd run her fingers through his hair or traced the tattoos on his body. They were the little things, and Gabby found herself missing them the most.

There was a smash as Filip dropped the beer, bringing his hand up to caress the small of Gabby's back. His other hand crept around her thigh, up between her legs to the waistband of her jeans.

Gabby abruptly pulled her lips from his. "We should go to one of the rooms," she managed.

"Wha'? Not here?" Filip joked, nibbling on her neck.

Gabby shoved at his chest. "Not here."

He laughed, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her towards the clubhouse. "Alrigh', alrigh'. Let's go, then."

Filip woke with a throbbing in his head that he hadn't felt for at least two years. Groaning, he sat himself up, rubbing at his face to try and ward the sleep away. He wasn't, as he thought, in a bed with Gabby; he was in the clubhouse, covered in the ash from an overturned ashtray, with a young croweater sprawled across his legs.

The girl had blonde hair and was wearing next to nothing. In other words, it wasn't Gabby. Filip vaguely recalled leaving the room to find Tig. Someone had handed him a drink and now, here he was.

He pushed the protesting girl off him – she hit the ground with a thump – and struggled to his feet, stretching. The room looked as though a thousand hurricanes had swept through it, and there were unconscious bodies in every inch of the place. From the midst of all the chaos, someone stirred, and Tig's head shot up, closely followed by the rest of his disorientated body.

"Hey, man."

Tig's head swivelled to find the source of the sound, and came to rest on Filip. "Oh, hey. Crazy night, huh?"

"Aye." Filip held up a packet of smokes, jerking his head towards the door. They both manoeuvred outside, where Filip lit up two smokes, handing one to Tig. "I know we already went through this at church, but ye did a good job."

"Ah, it was easy work," Tig insisted with a shrug. "That agreement with Darby was probably the only thing that kept us alive, though."

"I'm not talkin' about the club, brother. I'm talkin' about Gabby."

Tig blinked. "Oh. Well, you know... girls, man. Give 'em somethin' shiny and it'll fix any mood. It was nothin'."

"I don't know how ye did it," Filip admitted. "But thank you." He pulled Tig into a loose hug, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, I'm just doin' what I gotta do. Besides, damn girl helped us more'n we helped her."

Filip gave Tig a final clap on the shoulder before releasing him. "So now ye're tellin' me ye didn't do anythin'?"

Tig mumbled something that sounded like 'did a bit' as he tossed his cigarette butt down, grounding it with his foot. He absentmindedly scratched his head, then, declaring his need for coffee, trudged awkwardly back inside. Filip finished his cigarette and trailed after him.

Fortunately the kitchen managed to escape the carnage, and the two men were able to make drinks without tripping over anyone, or spearing their feet on shards of broken glass.

With two steaming mugs, Filip shambled back to his room, kicking the door open with his foot. Gabby was already awake, watching him curiously.

She sat up, pulling the sheets with her. "Morning," she greeted.

"Mornin'." Filip handed her a mug. "Thought ye migh' want a drink." He sat down next to her, taking a sip of his.

"Thanks. So that's where you were?"

Filip hesitated. "Oh, yeah. I went out for a fag, made some drinks..." He trailed off, losing himself in thought as he watched the girl next to him.

He was surprised, really, that Gabby was still here, with him. Back in prison, Gemma told him the girl had spent the better part of six months up in New York, and since then had visited another three times. New York was a big city, with plenty of jobs, and plenty of boys. Filip wasn't going to pretend he'd never been a teenager, and during his teen years, there were at least ten girls he'd 'loved'. He didn't settle down with Fiona until he was twenty-two. And Gabby was a beautiful girl; she could almost have any guy she wanted. So why him? Why did she stay? Filip used to spend hours asking himself after ever visit. Why didn't she leave? Why didn't she find a young man with a nice job and no criminal record? What did he do right, to deserve such a treasure?

"Filip?" Gabby's voice dragged him back to the present.

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong?" She'd placed her coffee on the bedside table, and crawled over to him, staring him in the eyes.

"Nothin', love. I'm alrigh'."

But Gabby still didn't look convinced. "You zoned out."

Filip shrugged. "Aye; I was thinkin'."

"About what?"

"About you." He snaked an arm around her side, gently running his fingers across her naked back.

Gabby ducked her head, her cheeks burning red.

"Don' tell me ye still get embarrassed!" Filip exclaimed.

"I'm not embarrassed," Gabby protested, slapping his hand away.

Chortling, Filip flipped her on her back, so he was hovering over her, squeezing the side of her abdomen. "Are ye still ticklish?"

Gabby's eyes went wide. "No, I'm not, don't!" She squealed as Filip tickled her side, squirming under him. "Filip!" She tried to pry his hands away from her, with no success.

"Thought ye said ye weren't ticklish?"

"I'm... not!" Gabby managed between squeals. "You'll wake... everyone!"

Filip paused his assault. "No, ye're the one screamin', not me," he pointed out. He rested his arm next to her head, his eyes searching her face. A pregnant silence followed.

Gabby's face twisted in confusion as Filip just stared at her, as though he was looking for something. "What?"

"Ye know I love ye, righ'?"

"What is this, Filip?" Gabby asked. Her eyebrows furrowed, knitting together.

He sighed, still searching for something. "Do ye love me?"

Gabby's eyes flashed with anger. "You know I do! Jesus Christ, Filip!" She sat up abruptly, forcing him to sit up too. She pressed her lips to his. "I love you, Filip."

Filip smiled. "Aye, I know."

Kane inspected the map in front of him carefully. He placed a finger on a road, tracing the thin line down until it met with a circle. For a short moment, he stared at the town, reading the name again and again. Then he spoke. "This one."

There was rustling, hurried footsteps, and the next moment a pale man was at his side, staring down at the map. His eyes widened as he read the name of the town that Kane's finger was resting on. "Sir, that's... maybe you should rethink your choice. What about this town? Or here?" He bravely suggested, pointing at other towns on the map.

"I want this town," Kane insisted.

The man at his side was adamant, if terrified. "But sir, please. That town is already owned. If we try and take it, we'll end up in a war."

This caught Kane's attention. He turned from the map to look at the other man for the first time. His eyes were blank, uncaring, and seemed to stare straight through the man, who quailed under his gaze. "A war, you say?"

"Yes, sir. There's a bikie gang situated there. Quite a formidable force, if I'm not mistaken. A lot of people could die," the man said hopefully. The last thing he wanted was to die.

Kane picked a pen up, twirling it around in his fingers. "Give me your hand, Murphy."

Murphy's eyes went wide. He moved, as though to run, but caught himself. "Sir?"

But Kane just beckoned him towards the desk, a gleaming smile on his face. Apprehensively, Murphy approached the man, holding out his right hand.

Without hesitation, Kane seized it, slammed it on the desk, and bought the pen down, stabbing straight through Murphy's hand amid an ear-splitting scream. Blood seeped out across the map like seamless fingers as Murphy fell to his knees, sobbing. He clutched at his wrist.

Kane put his mouth to Murphy's ear. "I don't care about dead people," he hissed. "I don't care if they die screaming. I want that town." He tore the pen out of Murphy's palm, revealing a gaping hole in map where the town had once been.

Murphy cradled his wounded hand in his chest. "Ye... yes, sir." He clumsily stood, and hurried to the door. "I'll get everyone ready at once, sir."

"Good... Oh, Murphy!"

The terrified man froze, halfway out the door. He turned to face Kane. "Sir?"

"What's the name of this bikie gang?"

Murphy's face visibly relaxed as he realised Kane wasn't going to torture him some more. "The Sons of Anarchy, sir."

"Find Hugo. I want to know everything about this gang, from their criminal records to their children's schools."

"I will, sir."

"And find out whose pockets could do with some fattening."

"Yes, sir."

Murphy disappeared, leaving Kane to turn back to the map. He inspected the bloody hole with a mixture of excitement and lust. There was going to be a bloody battle; he'd make sure of that. Nothing made Kane happier than to watch people scream and squirm as they died. To watch them fight and beg for their lives as though they hoped for mercy. But Kane didn't have mercy. He didn't need mercy. People were his to torment and torture as he saw fit. The world was his dollhouse, and the people were his dolls. He glanced back down at the map.

Charming would be his by the week's end.