While I wait for word from the show about the story, let's get Season 4 going and hope you enjoy it.
The whine of the jet's engines grew louder, as the wheels touched down and burnt off puffs of rubber. It slowed and taxied back to the base hangar, the engines screaming out the whine. The ground crew chocked the wheels, as the pilot shut the engines down, bringing an end to the wait. The mobile stairway was rolled up and the door opened.
The club stood and watched, as soldier after soldier came out, their faces not showing the happiness they thought they'd have coming back home. The rear loading ramp was lowered and the first things to come out, were the line of caskets. The club looked over at the group of grieving parents and family members, remembering they once stood there to claim Lester. Hearses and transport vehicles collected the coffins and began the trip home to lay them to rest, while those that weren't collected, were lined up in rows in the hangar to await claiming of them.
The guys watched each uniformed man exit the plane and then saw the familiar face come out and look around. He spotted the club and a smile came across his face, as they waved and shouted at him. He made his way to the tarmac and came over, hugs given with great affection and relief. After a brief time to talk, they collected his gear from the back of the plane and tossed it in his pick up truck. He was introduced to the new prospects and before he jumped in the truck to head home, they stopped him and led him to his new bike.
The guys had picked it up the day before at Little Willy's shop and Greg rode it to the airport. He was in awe of it, admiring the paint and chrome, the detail to everything capturing his attention to it. He sat on it and held the handlebars, getting the first feel for it.
"Guys, what can I say? Thanks, it's fucking gorgeous."
"Fire it up, brother. It's time we got you riding again."
Clay flicked the kill switch and jumped down on the kick start, the engine starting easy and ran smoothly. He twisted the throttle a few times and grinned widely, sensing the power between his legs. The guys got on their bikes and Clay noticed JT was riding a chopper and not the blue Harley.
"Hey, JT, where's the Harley?"
"Back at the shop, I'm riding this while we do runs now."
Clay looked over the chopper and saw it didn't have the same flash and style as his and looked at the other bikes, noticing the damage to them. He looked at the guys and they said they'd tell him everything, once they got back and had some time to celebrate. JT motioned for the club to roll out and the line of bikes moved as one, Clay riding like he had never stopped.
The compound still held the signs of the attack, bullet holes still marking the walls and bay doors of the garage, the fresh paint unable to remove the scars, just the blemishes. Clay stopped and looked at them all, taking a quick count of the number and knew his brothers had faced as much gunfire as he had. Vietnam was half a world away, but the same violence and loss of life was happening in small town America, that he thought of as safe and quiet.
Inside the clubhouse, thoughts of violence and death were banished from minds, as Clay was treated to beers and joints, as well as a hit on the hookah and his first taste of hashish. Music was loud and upbeat, making the welcome home party one of great joy and happiness. Talk of the garage business had Clay feeling assured a part of his past was living on and said he liked the make over and new signage.
They walked outside and let Clay get a feel for everything again, letting him see what was and what the future would be. Greg, Chunk and Louie wore new work uniforms with the company logo on them and Clay felt his business interests in the garage were well expressed. Talk of the attack eventually came up and the club knew they had to share the event with him. JT could see the assault on their clubhouse had an effect on him, bringing about an inner rage at the defilement to their sanctuary.
JT knew they had to face the entire event once more, every detail exposed in blatant exposure. Clay deserved to know the whole truth of what happened, knowing it as well as if he had lived it himself. Sparing him the goriness wasn't needed, as he'd already faced enough in the last three years. It was a short stay outside, before they headed back in and laid the events before him from the time he left.
Two hours later, after a multitude of emotions expressed. Clay was up to speed with everything and shared the same feelings as the club, knowing the past was where it belonged and the future was their only focus now. A call came for another hookah of hash, but Clay said he'd rather go for a ride and be with them on the open road. JT agreed it was where he would rather be as well and the crew left the clubhouse and mounted up. They started their bikes and Piney suddenly halted anyone from moving, then ran back into the clubhouse.
He came out with Clay's cut, bearing the club logo and all the badges to mark his location and status. Piney called for everyone to shut down for a second so he could speak. Once the quiet came, Piney stood by Clay and talked loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Clay Morrow, I'd like you to wear this cut and be called brother by us. As your V.P., I welcome you to the Sons of Anarchy, so say us all."
Clay took the cut in his hands and looked at the front and back, seeing he had been recognized as one of the first nine members, just as JT had promised he would be. He folded the cut and hugged Piney tightly, thanking him for his sponsorship and honour of acceptance. He went to each member and hugged them with pride, then slipped his arms in the cut and zipped it up. The guys cheered him, as he turned around and showed it off, then got on his bike and waited for his president to call out to ride.
JT gave the command to ride and the bikes were fired up, one by one following JT to the gate and heading to 88 and the highway. JT ran the middle of the road, while Lenny and Clay rode behind him. Far at the back, Piney rode as Road Captain and watched the club, the prospects in front of him and his best friend and leader taking the road and guiding them forward in pride and confidence. He could see how he rode and knew JT was at peace with himself when he was riding, the past unable to catch up and haunt his mind. It was a single focus, one that distractions of any kind led to trouble. The road was theirs when they were on it, but it was fraught with traps of all kinds waiting to snag them and diminish that control.
The ride to the hills held twists and turns, blind spots and hidden obstacles, much the same as life did. Despite all of that, the road was where they lived and breathed freely. There was no one place that life could be lived in peace and relative comfort, everywhere held its own troubles, but the road held ones they could handle and find a sense of control.
Ten miles of no where passed, before they headed back and parked again. Clay was thrilled with his new bike and thanked everyone for what they had created. JT told him about Little Willy and Mutt and everything they did to make his bike as special as it was. Little by little, the present and future helped put away the hurt of the past and gave hope for a life, one as a brother and a Son.
