[color=gray][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/PJFYztq2/47920a0cade5c4626e2296c599ef0f32.png[/img]
[img]https://i.postimg.cc/XN2f0gg0/ezgif-53095dc9e51b3d73.png[/img][/center][right][color=red]TW: DEATH, INFERTILITY[/color][/right]
[center][sub][i]Flashback - Three Months Ago[/i]
[u][b]Location:[/b][/u] Route to Cemetery → Pines Holler Cemetery
[u][b]Interacting With:[/b][/u] Each Other
[u][b]Mentions:[/b][/u] Kent (NPC), Dallas, Valentino [@Kaiidth], MC members [@Oso][/sub][/center]
[hr][hr]
[indent][indent]The sound of a rusty green truck drowned along Main Street, down that old town road it had so many times in the past, its color symbolic of the woods and the greenery around Pines. It was strange to suddenly be back to normal, the way things changed and how everything around Pines had changed, there were still [i]some[/i] things that felt as if Clive was never locked up.

He had the window down. The crisp spring air that had remnants of winter’s frigid grasp on it blew in his messy hair, those dirty blonde locks flowing freely in the air as John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads” played as loud as Clive could bear. He rocked his head forward to the song as well as tapping the outside of his door. Clive wasn’t a singer but he was humming a melody with the song, almost like it was fueling his soul. 

He’d missed it. Being able to freely do what he wanted. There were a lot of things he wanted to do. He wanted to taste the mediocre coffee at Lou’s again. He wanted to spend a weekend out in the woods a few miles away from the trailer park. He wanted to lay on a nice rock and look up at the stars by the creek. So many things that had been on his to-do list that he was gonna start as soon as he got out, but a month ago he got the worst news he could ever have received. It came when the prison had its visiting hours near closing, but one of the Black Dogs came to him. 

Kent passed away from an illness that couldn’t be treated. That didn’t hit as hard as what Clive had a realization about. Because of the timing and how quick Kent’s widow was with the service, he would miss it by a month. Of all things, [i]that[/i] broke his heart the most. Kent McIntyre was not just a friend but like a brother to Clive. A father figure if he was being sappy. Every night, he had to stop himself from crying. Every night, he needed to focus on the important things. Every single night that passed, he grew closer to being released and once he was able to get home, he knew as soon as he was able, he would make a trip.

That’s how he wound up at the cemetery. He never had a reason to be here. Clive had always been fortunate enough to not know the pain of losing someone. He knows he’s lucky and many of those who he had known in his life couldn’t say the same, which made it all the more…awkward for the thirty-seven-year old to be here and standing in front of a tombstone.

[i]Here rests Kent Finlay McIntyre.
Husband. Father. Brother.
“Many a mickle maks a muckle.”[/i]

Clive laughed reading that. He could hear it now, the man who was so proudly Scottish. So annoyingly proud would cite those lame proverbs like they were his version of the gospel. He had never known Kent to be religious. That hardcore gambler, hardcore drinker, always fucking but never praying ass of a donkey did a lot of things but worship Jesus Christ? Probably not one of them, yet he could remember him being at every service because Clive hated going alone.

Kent McIntyre’s death had been a hard blow not just for the community of Pines Holler, but also for his young wife. Five years previously, 22 year-old Mollie King had met the former Black Dogs MC president during a visit to celebrate her cousin Dallas’ eighteenth birthday party. The Vegas girl had been smitten with the man instantly, and the Scottish man had been enamoured by the newcomer just as fast. The relationship progressed rather quickly, with six months passed in between their initial meeting and their shotgun wedding. Despite the age gap, the couple dreamt about and planned for many years together: weekend motorcycle road trips on Kent’s vintage bike, infinite games of pool, having a baby or two…

And then Kent illness struck.

At 26, after four years of marriage, Mollie’s role shifted from housewife to full-time caretaker, and eventually to widow. The near year of nursing her husband and immense grief and heartbreak of losing her better half had turned the once spunky, vivacious blonde into the shadow of herself who took position beside Clive. Her normally slender figure was concerningly thin; a result of missed meals and a general lack of appetite. Her cheeks were hollow, and Kent’s leather jacket hung loosely on her now scrawny frame. Dark roots could be seen growing from her scalp, unattractively melting into the rest of her bleached blonde locks. But the saddest transformation was in the way her blue eyes seemed to have lost the playful sparkle that lit up the room anywhere she went.

Clive didn’t know how long he was standing in front of the grave. Maybe over an hour, but before he even realized it, someone else had shown up. A blonde woman. If he hadn’t acknowledged the sound of approaching footsteps on the fallen leaves, then he might’ve missed it. He smiled even before she approached. She looked skinnier than the last time he saw her. Or maybe that was simply because, compared to everyone he ran into since being out, Clive was a lot bigger. There wasn’t a lot to do in prison. He had read all that really interested him, so he lifted weights a lot. But it was still nice to see a friendly face.

He didn’t say anything yet. He was terrible at situations like these - knowing what to say when someone was grieving. It’s why he never gave any toasts or any grand speeches unless he had to. Still, this was the widow of his best friend. His brother. His President. He should say [i]something[/i]. [color=2A7E19]“I heard from the grapevine that the service ran until the next morning.”[/color] He smiled, knowing for a fact that’s how Kent would’ve partied. [color=2A7E19]“Big Dog told me. Said you guys really kept his spirit alive during that night.”[/color] 

A watery chuckle filled the air as Mollie confirmed Clive’s statement with a nod. Kent’s youthful, lively, party boy nature at his age had been one of the first qualities that the blonde had been attracted to since the day they met, so it was only fitting that the man’s memorial had shifted into something more fitting to that wild child personality of his. [color=694553]“We were lucky that asshole Val Lockwood wasn’t on shift that night, or else he would’ve shut us down quick. Parker knew how much Kent meant to all of us, so we were able to get away with it no problem.”[/color] the widow explained, thinking back to the night of Kent’s service. What had started out as a solemn event honoring her husband’s life had somehow escalated into a full-blown clubhouse party, with Black Dogs of all ages sharing their most memorable moments with Kent in between cigars, beers and shots of whatever burning alcohol they could get their hands on. The young woman had spent the night between crying, laughing and crying again, her heart both full with how much the community had loved her husband but empty at the titanic absence he had left behind.

[color=694553]“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself when it happened, Clive,”[/color] she sincerely apologized to her husband’s protege, the small smile from earlier disappearing as her blue eyes full of shame glued themselves to the ground beneath her. Mollie knew Clive had deserved to hear the news straight from her, but– [color=694553]“I couldn’t bring myself to break your heart like that. I was– well, I am– barely holding on myself. I wouldn’t have been able to put on a strong front for you, and I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to be strong for me before you even had time to grieve him on your own.”[/color]

He took a moment to think about what his response would be. Clive allowed himself to stare at Kent’s grave. He hated that she felt in any way guilty for not telling him and he didn’t expect her to be strong enough to actually tell him. In truth, it wouldn’t have mattered if she did it or if someone else had, when he was told, the news nearly broke him to pieces. A heart that had barely been holding it together even at that point, shattered into so many pieces that not even a month to sit on it has completely repaired itself.

[color=2A7E19]“Don’t put that burden on yourself. It’s not your cross to bear. It’s why the MC exists. To share that burden so our old ladies don’t have to live with it.”[/color] All while that was true, Clive said it more as to help ease whatever guilt she was feeling about it. [color=2A7E19]“Besides, if you are barely keeping it together, well imagine the sight of not one but two hardened members of the Black Dogs family crying their eyes out in a prison.”[/color] Even the thought of it made him crack a smile. [color=2A7E19]“It didn’t change the fact that this town lost one of its brightest lights.”[/color] 

Mollie nodded solemnly, wiping tears she hadn't noticed had rolled down her hollow cheekbones. Clive was right. The MC and its members had been a crucial part of hers and Kent's lives during that last year of his life, and were the reason Mollie hadn't burned herself out caring for Kent in the first place. They'd helped the couple with warm and leftover meals, spending time with Kent to get his mind off things and give the young woman breaks to eat, shower and catch up on sleep… The genuine love and respect the Black Dogs felt for her husband was felt in every kind thought, action and word. So it was no wonder that his loss had caused such pain to the members of the organization. 

[color=694553]“You're telling me. Seeing all those past and present members at the wake howling their eyes out had [i]me[/i] howling my eyes out too!”[/color] Mollie confirmed, remembering how the funeral home had felt more like a wolf's den with the sounds of grown men crying.  

As much as he wanted to keep the mood light, Clive just couldn’t. Easing her guilt was one thing, but keeping a brave front when faced with the harsh reality that Kent was buried six feet deep. God gained an angel but sometimes his Lord could be cruel. [color=2A7E19]“It’s a nice tombstone. Even squeezed in the father bit, huh?”[/color] He laughed at that. Kent wasn’t a father but he kinda was one.

Clive's last comment made Mollie chuckle again, blue eyes shifting to the headstone she'd so lovingly selected for her beloved. [color=694553]“He almost had me put ‘Daddy’ in it, did you know?”[/color] the woman snickered, shaking her head as she remembered Kent's running joke with the members of the MC and how he'd pranked her that afternoon when they were discussing the final details of his personal affairs. [color=694553]“He said he wanted all of you to remember that he ‘would always be your daddy’, even after he died. When he saw the look on my face, he roared with laughter, said he was joking and told me to just put ‘father’ instead.”[/color]

He laughed again. It wasn't just at the fact that he wanted to put that on his tombstone. Clive knew Kent well enough to know that was exactly something his old friend would have done. It was something else that caught the attention of the ex-con. [color=2A7E19]“That sure does sound like him. That sense of humor of his was always something that got him in trouble. Or maybe others to be embarrassed. I couldn’t count the number of times he made me do a quick left-right take of those around us because of something he said.”[/color] 

As Mollie cackled for the first time in what felt like forever and nodded in agreement, a memory flashed before Clive’s eyes. Ten years ago they were out celebrating Clive making VP. It was a normal outing at Huskers but almost every member of the Black Dogs had gathered on that night, lots of drinking and loud laughter, but Kent was probably the most drunk of all. He had made joke after joke and it got to the point where he said something about being a bad father. So bad he should be punished. And in the way he said it, Clive remembered how red everyone was and it wasn’t just from the amount of whiskey in their stomachs or how hard they were laughing. It was from the embarrassment of seeing Kent lean over the countertop with his flat-as-fuck ass out, slapping it. 

[color=2A7E19]“He was one of the most shameless men I had ever known. No lack of confidence.”[/color] Clive finally said after about a minute of remembering and then he smiled. [color=2a7e19]“But even though he never had any kids of his own, sometimes it felt like I was something like a son to him.”[/color] Clive smiled a bit more sadder this time. [color=2A7E19]“Never did have a great relationship with my own. I even went through a rebellious phase in my younger years. Kent found me one day at Huskers and we drank all night and the next day I joined Black Dogs as his prospect.”[/color] It was strange, standing here over his grave, how a man who lived life so fully and never once apologized could be gone. No…not gone. He’s still here. So Clive smiled at that.

[color=2A7E19]“My relationship with him was different than yours was. To us in the MC, he was like a father. A brother. An uncle, and at times, a royal pain in our asses. But to you, he was something more. A lover. A partner and, if he remained true even in his last days, a royal pain in your ass.”[/color] Clive laughed at that. More because he could just imagine how stubborn he was to the Grim Reaper even if Death himself was sitting in a chair waiting for Kent to finally be ready.

While Clive's story of how her husband became a father-like figure to him and how important he was to him warmed her heart, it also unearthed dark thoughts she had assumed had been buried alongside Kent. [color=694553]“I wanted to give him a kid of his own,”[/color] the woman quietly confessed, letting her nearly-skeletal fingers softly graze the cold concrete of the headstone to distract herself from the sudden agonizing ache in her chest. [color=694553]“He wanted to be a father as badly as I wanted to make him one– and it wasn't for lack of trying. Just wasn't in the cards for us, I guess,”[/color] she ended sourly, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

For the longest time, Mollie had cursed herself for being unable to fulfill what was widely considered a woman’s main purpose in life. Every few weeks, she had stared long and hard at every pregnancy test she took, desperately hoping to see that positive sign that meant life was growing inside her. Instead, she felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into despair and hopelessness at each negative result. Giving up on their attempts to start a family due to Kent’s failing health had been one of the hardest decisions the couple had ever made, but Mollie wanted to think it had all been for the best. The heartbreak of losing her husband was soul-sucking enough without the pressure of having to raise a child without a father. 

A bittersweet smile crept its way on Clive's face. A memory flashed through his blue eyes, recalling conversations he and Kent had many times. Both when Clive was a lot younger, when he had joined the Black Dogs and started to get close enough to Kent to have deeper conversations. He remembered how Kent lamented to him about his dreams of fatherhood, how life in the military and failed relationships never gave him the chance to really be a father.

A twitch pulsed through Clive’s face, a hint of sadness and bit of anger of the circumstances that took Kent away from everyone. But it was also sadness for Mollie, because she wasn’t able to give Kent what he wanted, after finally being in a relationship with someone who loved him as much as he loved her. 

Clive looked at Mollie, smiling her way. [color=2A7E19]“Life is unfair but shit happens,”[/color] Clive recited, speaking in his best, albeit totally failing at, Scottish accent he could muster. Pretty sure it sounded more European than anything else, but it made the woman laugh a little. [color=2A7E19]“That’s what Kent used to tell me all the time. It’s what he told me when I was finding my way through the MC as a prospect.”[/color] Clive often wondered what Kent would say right now? What would be his words of wisdom? Probably something about drinking, fucking, and more drinking and fucking. 

[color=694553]“He wasn’t wrong, though,”[/color] Mollie admitted in a sing-song voice, nodding in agreement. If there was something Kent MacIntyre wasn't, it was a dreamer. Sure: he indulged in entertaining fantasies every once in a while, but the man lived his life with both feet firmly planted on the ground. Some called him a Negative Nancy for it. Mollie knew it was just blunt, realistic honesty. [color=694553]“‘Life is unfair but shit happens, and it’s up to you how you play the cards life dealt ‘cha’,”[/color] she finished her husband's famous saying in her own terrible attempt at a Scottish accent, trying to lighten the mood like Clive had earlier. [color=694553]“So that's what I've been doing now: playing the cards life dealt me. I was stuck in bed for two months after he left, but I knew I couldn't do that forever. He wouldn't have wanted me to wither away like that. So did what he [i]would’ve[/i] wanted me to do: put on my big girl pants and get back on the saddle. It still hurts like hell to wake up every day without him next to me knowing he'll never be back, but I just try to live life in a way he would've been proud of… Like he would've wanted you and everyone else to do, too.”[/color]

[color=2A7E19]“That’s the first step.”[/color] Clive thought for a moment. He turned his head away from Mollie and turned his blue eyes on Kent’s grave. The irony of grieving the man was that Clive could really use his advice right about now. Not just about what he should do from here on out but what should Mollie do now that she’s taken that first step. What should be their path moving forward? That was the question that could solve all of their problems, but God didn’t give you all the answers - only what you needed and could handle.

[color=2A7E19]“[i]Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.[/i]”[/color] Clive recited, giving Mollie a smile. A few tears glistened in the sunlight but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. There was joy in embracing the natural reaction to grief. [color=2A7E19]“Isaiah, 43 18-19. I’ve been reading the good book a lot lately. It’s been…comforting.”[/color]

Mollie nodded in understanding. As someone who'd never been interested in religion, she couldn't relate to Clive finding solace in the scripture of an ancient book. But what she could do was understand his reasoning behind it without any judgement. It was a healthier option than seeking consolation in the bottom of a bottle or illicit substances, after all. 

[color=694553]“And I guess we have each other now too, right?”[/color] the blonde said with a small smile, turning to face Clive and noticing his own tears slowly disappear into his beard. She didn’t know what exactly possessed her to do it (probably Kent’s spirit from beyond the grave hoping to provide comfort to his son of sorts), but before she could stop herself, Mollie was closing the distance between the two and wrapping her arms around the man’s burly frame in a tight hug she was sure they both needed. 

There wasn’t a physical hesitation on Clive’s end when she decided to go for a hug, but only a mental one. He knew it was nothing more than two people who loved Kent and found comfort in the moment, but he didn’t do well with hugs in tense situations. He didn’t know what he should do. Should he return it or should he just let her hug him and be the wall of support for her in that moment. 

After about five seconds of thought, Clive opted to return it as he wrapped his big[i]ger[/i] arms around his friend’s widow. He didn’t know what the right amount of force for a hug with someone like this was. Too tight and it would send the wrong messages but not tight enough and that could send the wrong message, so he gave her a hug back that was the same as if he was hugging a family member in need. A friend who wanted to comfort him and needed comfort herself. And he wasn’t the type to just do it for a few seconds. However long they remained, whether it was five seconds, a minute, ten minutes even, he would hold her there, let her be the one to release first. 

But the truth was, as silent as the day around them was, Clive needed it as much as she did. Probably more. [color=2A7E19]“You got that right.”[/color] He said to her as quiet as a whisper and then in an even quieter tone that was for his ears only, he murmured, [color=2A7E19]“She’ll be okay, Kent. We got her.”[/color][/indent][/indent][/color]