Daughter of Anarchy - PG13 - Chloe/Jax - Part Two [b]
Title: Daughter of Anarchy
Category: Smallville/Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Drama/Romance
Ship: Jax Teller/Chloe Sullivan
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Overall Rating: Explicit/NC-17
Word Count: 7,801
Warning(s): Strong Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Violence, Attempted Sexual Assault
Summary: [Prequel] Chloe Sullivan-Winston, bastard child of Piney, grew up under the feet of SAMCRO's biggest and baddest. She walked the line of good and bad, alongside her half-brother Opie and his best friend Jax. Calling some of the meanest bikers 'uncle,' she grew up avoiding her mentally ill mother while she learned how to shoot guns, fix bikes, and shark pool. The first eighteen years of her life, Chloe called Charming, California her home, the club house her safe haven, and SAMCRO her family.
[Return.]
June 13, 1987
"All right, Princess, what's the rule?" Tig asked as he knelt in front of her, his sunglasses pushed up into his curly hair, perched atop his head.
"We don't tell dad." She grinned cheekily. "'Cause he'd have your head on a spike."
"Uh-huh, and where does Uncle Tig like his head?" He wiggled his eyebrows down at her.
"On his shoulders," she laughed.
"Right." He clipped her helmet under her chin and then gave it a little rap with his knuckles. "You ready to ride?"
She nodded excitedly.
Standing, he hauled her up by her armpits and sat her down on the seat of his bike. She would be eight next month, still too small to probably be on a bike, which was why Piney always kept her in the sidecar, but Tig was a little more lenient.
Tig had a black and silver 1980 Harley Davidson FXWH Wide Glide with red and yellow flames painted on the fuel tank. His bike had a raised passenger seat behind his with a padded back. He added a seatbelt for safety, but told her she always had to hold onto his shoulders too. He never went too fast when they went for rides, no matter how much she told him he should.
Buckling her up, he put her pink glasses on to cover her eyes and then flipped his own down from his hair. Climbing onto his bike, he revved the engine and waited for her hands to fall to his shoulders and squeeze before he pulled out onto the road, smooth and easy. Her heart skittered happily as they started moving and she curled her fingers around the leather of his cut.
They just went up and down the streets of Charming for the first half hour; he didn't like to push it. She admired the familiar houses, the trees, and the shops she'd seen all her life. Charming was a pretty small town, where most knew each other. It wasn't an unfamiliar sight to see Chloe on the back of Tig's bike or the sidecar of Piney's. She was automatically affiliated with SAMCRO from birth. While she knew the people they passed in their ride, she didn't wave, she didn't see them as friends or family. They were acquaintances, familiar faces, but there had always been a distinct line between them and her. As much as the town of Charming relied on SAMCRO to keep them safe from other, worse, gangs, they were still leery of them. And as much as she was only eight years old, she was still the daughter of Piney, she was beloved by some of the fiercest men Charming had ever known.
To her, Tig was a teddy bear; he called her Princess and let her into the club when she wasn't technically supposed to be there. He snuck her sodas, liked to show her each and every one of his many knives, and watched Sunday morning cartoons with her at the club house while they each ate bowls of cereal. He was a big kid. She didn't see anything crazy about him, though she noticed he could be different, a little higher energy than the others. But he was loyal and caring and he treated her like she was his own, like she was his family. That was all that mattered to her.
Eventually, Tig pulled out of Charming, as he always did. He gave in to the need to drive further and faster. He took her out to the highway for a longer trip and she whooped happily as they picked up speed. Chloe felt alive when she was on a bike; she loved the wind whipping at her face. She always felt like she was floating. Like something had climbed inside her, full of energy and excitement, and it grew and grew the longer they drove. The louder the growl of the engine, the faster the bike, the more alive she felt. She belonged on a bike. It was home as much as the club house.
Some time later, as the sun was beginning to set, they headed back to town, pulling into the familiar Teller-Morrow lot. Tig parked the bike, lined up next to the others, and climbed off. He undid her helmet and seatbelt before helping her down, grinning when her legs were a little wobbly. Her hair was a mess, even with the helmet, her cheeks were flushed, and an ecstatic grin spread her lips.
Tig held out a hand and she low-fived it with her own. With a wink and a grin, he swaggered off to join the others while she turned on her heel and ran toward the club house, searching for her brother and Jax. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins and, like a junkie, she couldn't wait for her next chance to go riding. She imagined that feeling would never fade.
July 17, 1987
The first time Chloe met Chibs, he was visiting about SAMBEL, a new chapter of SAMCRO that JT and Keith had started up all the way over in Northern Ireland. He was young, only twenty-four. He wasn't as tall as her dad was, but he stood a good 6 feet. He was broad-shouldered and lanky, with dark hair pushed back into a ponytail at his nape, and two deep scars that ran down his cheeks to curl at his jaw. He grinned down at her as he climbed off his bike, winking.
"An' how are yeh doin' this fine mornin', missy?" he wondered, kneeling down beside her, tucking his sunglasses in his shirt.
Her eyes lit up. "You have an accent!"
"Aye, a Scottish brogue," he replied with enthusiastic drama.
"Are you here to see JT?" she wondered, eyeing his leather cut; the patch on the left side of his chest read 'Prospect.'
"I am," he agreed, nodding. "Would yeh be able ta' point me in the right direction?"
Turning on her heel, she started walking, and with a light chuckle, he followed after her.
Chloe turned her head up to look at him, one eye closed against the sun. "What's your name?" she wondered.
"My mum called me Filip," he answered. "But my friends call me Chibs."
Her brow furrowed curiously. "How come?"
"Yeh see these?" His gloved finger followed one deep, red scar over his cheek.
She nodded.
"Was a knife that did that, and in Scotland, knife is 'chib.'" He winked down at her. "Knife can't hurt me if I'm the knife."
"You're smart." She grinned. "I bet JT likes you."
He laughed under his breath. "Here's hopin'. If I'm lucky, I might get myself transferred over her ta' SAMCRO."
"I don't know if we need any more knives," she joked. "Uncle Tig already has sixteen."
"Yeh don' say?"
She nodded. "He collects them."
Stopping outside of the office door, Chloe rapped her fist against it and then stood back. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Chibs. I hope you get patched in!" she told him.
"It was a pleasure ta' meet you too," he said, nodding down at her, a smile playing over his lips.
The door swung open then and JT stood before them. "See you've met Chloe..."
"Aye, she's a good guide."
Chloe grinned before leaving them to their conversation and going in search of her brother. She wouldn't see the nice Scottish man again that day, but she would hear about him in passing.
September 3, 1987
Chloe was searching for a lighter. She knew there'd be one somewhere, just about everyone in the club smoked something or other. She checked behind the bar and around the pool table before finally finding one on an end table by the couch. Pocketing it and grinning to herself, she was halfway to the door, excited for Opie to light the firecrackers he and Jax found, when she heard what sounded like crying. Pausing, she backtracked, her brow furrowed. Her head cocked curiously, she walked toward the sound, following it right into the bathroom.
Gemma hadn't locked it, obviously thinking that she'd have some privacy in the club when all the guys were working in the shop. She was sobbing into her hands, hunched over, and Chloe lowered her gaze, feeling like she was intruding. She knew immediately what was wrong. Jax had been moody lately and finally told Opie that Tommy was sick. Something was wrong with his heart and there were all these surgeries they had to do for him to be better. But they were expensive and it was stressing out his parents. Jax was worried that Tommy was going to die… For the first time, seeing Gemma, she realized maybe that was a possibility.
Standing there, knowing that Gemma hadn't seen her, she considered just leaving. If there was one thing she knew it was that Gemma was proud and she wouldn't like knowing she'd been caught crying. But another part of her felt bad about that and it was what pushed her into acting. Stepping inside the bathroom, she walked right up to her and wrapped her arms around Gemma, who was shaking under her. She startled at first, inhaling sharply, and raised her head to look at Chloe, her mascara running down her cheeks.
Chloe reached over and tore off some toilet paper, using it to wipe away the messy make-up.
"I'm sure Tommy will be okay," she said quietly. "He's strong, just like his mom and dad and even his brother." She nodded. "If he's as stubborn as Jax, he'll live forever."
Gemma let out a choked laugh, just watching her for a moment, her brow furrowed. Chloe decided it was better to hug than talk and wrapped her arms around Gemma's neck. The older woman took a few minutes to get herself together, patting Chloe's back as she did. Finally, she stood, cleaned herself up, and then walked them back into the bar area.
"Don't you have some boys to be keep an eye on?" Gemma teased her, nudging her shoulder.
Grinning, she nodded, and took off at a run toward the door. Jax and Opie complained that she took forever when she finally arrived, but Chloe just shrugged it off. She didn't tell them what she'd seen with Gemma; she deserved that respect.
Later that night, when Clay broke out a barbecue and made everybody burgers, Chloe sat on a milk crate between her brother and Jax. She looked up, surprised, when Gemma tugged on her hair. Leaning her head back, she half-smiled when Gemma simply kissed her cheek and said, "Thank you, baby," before walking off, letting the whole thing go.
"What was that?" Jax asked through a mouthful.
Chloe shrugged.
"Hey, do you still have that lighter?" Opie wondered.
And just like that, the subject was never brought up again.
February 1, 1988
Chloe sat atop a rolling stool, watching the new mechanic as he worked.
His hair fascinated her. It was frizzy and curly and seemed to have a life of its own. The man, Bobby, muttered under his breath a lot. He'd recently moved to Charming and, while he wasn't wearing a prospect patch yet, she figured it was just a matter of time. Chloe didn't usually befriend the prospects. She thought it was smarter not to get close just in case they didn't get full patches. If they didn't become SAMCRO, they didn't come by the club anymore, and she usually took it to mean that the Sons didn't trust them, so then she shouldn't either. But she liked Bobby. She liked him just as she'd liked Chibs when he'd passed through from SAMBEL. She got a feeling in her gut that, like her favorite Scotsman, Bobby would become a brother of the club.
"You ever hear of Elvis, kid?" he wondered, turning to look at her, a thick eyebrow raised.
She shook her head.
"No?" He stood up, wiping his hands on a rag. "You never heard of the lip curl…" He showed her his, leaving his lip twitching comically. "Or the hair, real big up top, with just a little curl to hang down over his forehead…" He smoothed his hand over his hair, but Chloe thought he just looked silly. "Had the best dance moves, too…" He thrust his hips around side to side and waved his arms around. Combined with the curled lip, it made Chloe burst into a fit of laughter.
"You just call me… Bobby Elvis," he said, in a deep, animated drawl.
"I'd like to call ya 'working,'" Clay's voice interrupted.
Bobby straightened, a faint grin pulling at his lips. "Sorry… Just trying to educate the kid on some classics."
"Do you know who Elvis is?" Chloe asked, turning to look at Clay inquisitively.
He nodded at her. "Yeah, sure, I do." Walking over, he took down one of the rags and handed it to her. "C'mon, you wanna hang out in the shop, why don't we find you something to polish?"
"A bike?" she asked hopefully, bouncing on her tip-toes.
He laughed under his breath and picked her up, carrying her in the crook of his elbow. "Sure thing. We'll get you polishing my bike, how's that sound?"
She nodded agreeably and he grinned, carrying her out of the shop and toward the line of bikes. Turning her head back, she shouted, "See ya, Bobby Elvis!"
He waved at her, smiling.
She hoped he stuck around.
March 3, 1988
Chloe rested her chin on her hands, staring at her mother's blank face, her eyes distant. Moira's episodes had been more and more frequent as time went on and Chloe had been timing this one for over twenty-three minutes.
The front door snapped shut and she looked up and over to see her step-dad walk inside, shrugging off his heavy jacket. He worked up at the mill just about seven days a week and was always tired when he got home. He greeted her with a weary smile all the same, only letting it slip as he set eyes on his wife.
"How long?" he wondered.
"Twenty-four minutes and fifteen seconds," she answered smartly.
He hummed, nodding, and made his way to the kitchen. "She make dinner?"
Shaking her head, she sat back in her chair, her legs swinging. "She said something about leftovers."
Gabe checked the fridge but found the shelves mostly empty. "She didn't go shopping this week?"
Chloe hopped off her chair and walked over. "Nope," she said, popping the 'p.'
He frowned. "Where have you been eating?"
She cast her eyes away; she didn't like to lie to Gabe.
"Around," she answered with a shrug.
Closing the fridge door, he dug his hand into his pocket and came up with his keys. "All right, how about you and I go pick something up for dinner?" he offered, half-smiling. "Hopefully, by the time we get back, she'll be… back to usual, right?"
"Sure." Chloe moved down the hall to put her shoes on, letting Gabe walk ahead of her and open the door. She cast one last uncertain look back at her mom and then left.
Moira's record was originally twenty-one minutes.
By the time they got back from picking up fried chicken, her record was forty-nine. She snapped out of it shortly after they set the table and nobody talked about what happened, but Chloe wrote it down in the log she kept and spent a lot of time wondering what it meant.
April 6, 1988
Over the last year, SAMCRO had been meeting more and more. They'd been taking more trips, dealing with more people, and the talk in the room had gotten progressively darker. Chloe knew, on some level, that the club she'd grown up in, of men just looking for freedom, for a place to be themselves and accepted, was changing. As a girl who had only known the men as loyal and trustworthy, who would do anything to keep her and those she cared about safe, she assumed that this change would be good, that it was necessary.
Chloe was what her dad liked to call curious, but what most others called nosy. As she grew up, her curiosity about what was said around the table in church nagged at her. None of the kids were allowed inside the room; it was only SAMCRO members that sat at the table and discussed business. More than once, she'd convinced Opie to try and listen in with her, and every time they were caught. Usually by Tig, probably the most suspicious of the group, who would boot them outside. Later, Piney would lecture them about eavesdropping. Eventually, it got harder and harder to convince Opie to join in, but it never stopped Chloe from trying to find out what SAMCRO was planning behind closed doors.
Chloe was born with an insatiable need to know, well, everything. Sure, that first day of school she'd been less than enthusiastic, but as time went on, she realized knowledge was her big ticket. And she didn't just mean world-wise, but Charming-wise too. Chloe wasn't stupid. For an eight, going on nine, year old, she was actually pretty damn smart. So she listened when the boys of SAMCRO talked. She knew far more than she should, all because they were so used to her that she could fly under the radar. She was trusted, maybe not enough to sit in on meetings, but enough that they knew she'd never rat. And she wouldn't. If she learned anything growing up under the feet of the Sons of Anarchy, it was that loyalty was everything. Besides, they were her family.
Her understanding of right and wrong was, admittedly, a little skewed, in part because a little of her loved all her "uncles" so much that she preferred to think they could do no wrong. But she knew that they did bad things sometimes, she knew that they had hurt people. It was justified to her as what was 'necessary to protect the club.' And she got it, on some level. The club, the Sons, had to come first, above all and everyone else.
Still, she wanted to know, she needed to know, everything. So she kept trying, and usually failing, but that didn't mean she didn't know anything. In fact, she knew far too much. What she did with that information? Well, nothing, really. She was still just a kid. So she filed it away, she added it to the tall pile of things she already knew about the men around her, good, bad, neutral. And it never changed how she saw them.
Were they all good people? Probably not. But they were her people. And that was what mattered.
August 20, 1988
Chloe sat on a stool, sipping her soda through a straw, watching some of the guys play pool, a wad of cash stacked up for whoever won. On the couch, Lenny was entertaining three different women, while Bobby stood by the jukebox, an arm around another blonde. She honestly couldn't tell if Uncle Tom was getting frisky with the woman he was talking to or casually trying to pick her pockets; it could be both. Chico, Tig, Clay and Piney were all more interested in the pool table, but there were more than a few women hanging around, waiting for their chance to distract them.
Usually, around this time, when the party started to lean more toward women losing their clothes and the guys forgetting all about propriety, Gemma ushered her out of the club. But she was currently out of town, another check-up for Tommy. JT had gone with her, which left Clay, as vice president, in charge.
"Hey, half-pint," called a familiar, raspy voice.
Chloe looked over, spotted Lenny nodding at her, and hopped down from her stool, crossing the room toward him. Two of the three girls he was with pouted at the loss of attention.
"You wanna make a few bucks?"
Her brows perked up. "I'm listening…"
He smirked at her, amused. "Round up your brother and Jackie, I'll give you a few bucks, you pick me up a couple packs of smokes, take the rest, buy what you want. How's that sound?"
Seeing as Lenny wasn't one to pass around money, she was skeptical. Lenny was smart, like genius-level smart, and he never made split-second decisions, especially ones that didn't benefit him more than others. At least, not those outside of the immediate brothers of the club.
"What's the catch?" she wondered, putting a hand on her hip.
"Listen, you're doing me a favor, I'm doing you a favor…" He waved a hand around. "You don't need to be around these crow-eater's… Where's your mom at now, anyway?"
She cast her eyes away and shrugged.
"Doesn't matter," he dismissed. "The corner store a couple blocks over rents out movies. You grab my smokes, you get you and the boys something to watch, a few snacks, and we're even."
Ignoring the rest, she wondered, "What's a crow-eater?"
He shook his head. "Nothing you wanna be and nothing you're gonna see." He dug into his pocket and came out with his wallet before handing over two ten dollar bills. "Bring me back two packs of-"
"Camels," she said knowingly, nodding as she snagged the bills from his fingers.
"And take the boys," he shouted after her as she turned on her heel, jogging toward the door.
She waved a hand back at him over her shoulder.
A few minutes later, she found the boys playing with fire crackers in the lot and told them what was happening. They grabbed up their identical Schwinn bikes and Chloe climbed up to sit on the handlebars of Opie's for the short ride over, adding commentary as the boys tried to pick what movie they wanted to watch.
"What about Karate Kid 2?" Opie wondered.
"Nah, the first one was way better," Jax said, shaking his head. "We should get something creepy… Like Critters."
"Or Aliens," Chloe offered.
"Labyrinth looked weird," Opie said.
"We could get something funny, like Ferris Bueller's Day Off," she added, shrugging.
Jax's back tire skidded as he came to a halt in front of the store and left his bike leaning against the curb, waiting for them before he walked toward the door. "How much extra money do you think we'll have?"
"I dunno. Why? You want to get a couple movies?"
He held the door open and Chloe ducked under his arm to walk in, waving at Shirley behind the counter. Popping her gum, the cashier nodded her chin toward them in hello, flipping a page on her magazine and otherwise ignoring them as they walked around.
It took Opie all of ten minutes before he gave up arguing with them about movies and instead went to check out the junk food.
"Hey, Jax?"
"Yeah?" He grabbed up another video and turned it over to read the back.
"What's a crow-eater?"
He paused and then turned to look at her, his brow raised. "How come?"
She shrugged. "Lenny said it earlier; he said I'd never be one and I shouldn't hang around them."
He tucked the moved back on the shelf and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "It's something they call the girls who hang around the club, the ones who are always trying to hook up, catch their attention…"
Her brows furrowed. "So… it's like an old lady?"
"No." He shook his head, shifting his feet awkwardly. "See, old lady is a wife. She's special."
Chloe crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "She can't be too special. Half the club's got old ladies and they still hook up with other girls."
He sighed. "Look, I dunno. I just know a crow-eater is someone who wants to be an old lady but ain't."
Rolling her eyes, she said, "Well I think it's stupid. Old lady, crow-eater, whatever, I don't want to be any of it." Reaching out, she grabbed Ghostbusters off the shelf. "Let's go. Before Ope spends all our money on cheesies."
As she walked away, Jax hurried to catch up, falling into step with her. "Hey…?"
She looked over.
"I don't know what it all means… but I know if I had an old lady…" He shook his head. "I wouldn't waste my time with anybody else."
Despite still thinking the hierarchy system was ridiculous, Chloe half-smiled at him. For all that she bugged Jax, he was her friend, and she liked it when he said things like that, when he showed a side of himself that was different.
"Ghostbuster? Again?" Opie asked, chewing on a string of licorice.
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, again." Reaching out, she tore off half his licorice and stuck the end between her teeth. "You ready to go?"
He shrugged. "Sure."
Taking the movie up to the front, she waited for her brother and Jax to add the chips, pop, and popcorn they were getting, and then handed over the money before adding in the two packs of Camels for Lenny. Shirley didn't so much as bat an eye as she tossed the cigarettes into the bag with the pop.
The ride back to the club house was mostly spent listening to her brother and Jax trade jabs at each other. She smiled to herself, tipping her head back and enjoying the cool air against her warm skin. Her earlier contemplation on life and the women who surrounded the men of SAMCRO was forgotten. She was just a girl; she didn't even know what she wanted out of her life yet. She only knew that she was free and happy and, while it wasn't a motorcycle, she was riding through life at a pace she liked.
[Next: Part Three.]
Author's Note: I'm pleasantly surprised with the amount of interest I received for this story! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this. Two of my favorite characters were introduced in this chapter - I freaking LOVE Chibs and Bobby - and I always enjoy writing both Tig and Gemma, so I hope you guys liked them too.
Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what stood out for you, it's always appreciated!
- Lee | Fina