Daughter of Anarchy - PG13 - Chloe/Jax - Part Three [a]
Title: Daughter of Anarchy
Category: Smallville/Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Drama/Romance
Ship: Jax Teller/Chloe Sullivan
Chapter Rating: PG
Overall Rating: Explicit/NC-17
Word Count: 7,067
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.
Previous: Part One, Part Two,
dhfreak
June 12, 1989
Despite the frustration it caused her, Chloe kept coming back for more. Ever since Chibs patched over to become a member of SAMCRO, she'd been trying to get him to teach her Gaelic. Unfortunately, while it flowed from him quiet easily, and even sounded pretty when he talked, she felt like she was butchering it.
She frowned. "No, say it again, but slower."
Chibs nodded at her, sounding it out slowly, "KIM-mer uh HAH shiv?" He watched her, brows hiked, and repeated it without the emphasis, "Ciamar a tha sibh?"
She tried, her tongue tripping over it a little.
He smiled. "Tha gu math, tapadh leibh!"
Her brow furrowed. "That wasn't the same thing…"
He laughed under his breath. "You asked me how I was, an' I told you, 'I'm well, thank you.'"
Chloe threw her head back and sighed.
"Come on," he encouraged. "We'll try a few more and then I can teach you 'Tha, beagan.'"
She blinked at him.
"So when somebody asks you 'A bheil Gàidhlig agaibh?' or 'Do you speak Gaelic?' you can tell 'em, 'Tha, began.'" He nodded. "'A little.'"
Chloe slumped in her chair. "And I thought math was hard…"
He patted her shoulder and grinned. "You're doin' just fine. Before yeh know it, you'll be a pro. It'll be nice havin' someone around who knows what I'm talkin' about."
Hearing that only made her more resolved to try harder.
Taking a deep breath, she sat up straighter, lifting her chin stubbornly. "Okay, let's try it again."
And so went the rest of the day.
By the time dinner rolled around, he wondered, "A bheil an t-acras ort?" (Are you hungry?)
And with a proud smile, she said slowly, "Ceart gu leòr. Tha an t-acras orm." (You bet. I'm hungry!)
"Atta girl," he praised.
They celebrated with burgers and fries at Pat's diner; Chloe thought she might be better at math if it was as rewarding.
July 24, 1989
When Chloe found out that Mary had just packed up and left town with Opie, she was inconsolable. "You have to bring him back," she told her dad. "She can't have him! He doesn't even like her!"
"Chloe, Mary is Opie's mom. I can't control what she does… I-I don't even know where she went." Piney sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"This isn't fair." She stomped her foot. "He doesn't want to be with her. This is home! We're his family!" Tears streaked down her cheeks. "I want him back!" Her voice cracked. "Make her give him back!"
Hushing her, he gathered her up into his arms and hugged her close, rubbing her back soothingly. It took a while, but Chloe eventually sobbed herself to sleep in his arms. When she woke up back in her bed, she was confused, and when she remembered, she only curled up in a ball and cried some more.
A lethargic Chloe took to sitting outside of Mary's house, now empty, leaning against the spot underneath Opie's window, waiting for him to come back. Sometimes, Jax would come and sit with her, and if she was feeling particularly sad, she would cry on his shoulder. At the club, she sat on the couch, waiting. It didn't matter how many times Tig told jokes with his odd sense of humor, or Bobby sang an Elvis song for her, or Uncle Tom brought her something he'd recently stolen just for her, she absolutely refused to be cheered up. And if anybody asked her what they could do, her answer was always the same. "I want Opie."
SAMCRO was at an impasse. If they looked for Opie and brought him back, Mary could bring the law into things, and the club didn't need law enforcement breathing down their necks. At the same time, it was Opie, it was Piney's son, and it wasn't right what Mary did, taking off in the middle of the night without anything but some divorce papers left behind and a note that said she was starting over and giving Opie a better life elsewhere.
August 27, 1989
A tapping at her window woke Chloe. She startled in her bed, sitting up quickly, and blinked as she looked around her dark bedroom. Another tap had her head turning toward it and she saw a fist and, when she squinted, the top of a familiar blond head. Leaving her bed, she walked over and opened the window, standing on her tip toes to look out at Jax. "What are you doing here?"
"Shhh!" He pressed a finger to his lips meaningfully, looking around to see if anybody was around.
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Well?"
He stood upright, hands tucked in his pockets, and shifted his feet. "Ope called me."
Her face lit up, and then dimmed. "Why didn't he call me?" she wondered angrily.
"He didn't have time. Look, he… He's coming back."
Her heart soared. "When? Now? Is dad picking him up somewhere?" She wiggled excitedly. "Tig promised he'd find him! I knew he wouldn't lie to me!"
Jax shook his head. "No, it's…" He sighed. "Opie ran away from Mary. He's gonna hop this train; he said it runs right through Charming. He told me to meet him down at the tracks, that he'd be there around 3 o'clock tonight…" He chewed his lip. "I thought you'd wanna come."
Chloe had barely waited for him to finish his sentence before she was racing across her room to pull on a pair of shoes and her jacket. With that, she climbed out of her window, hopping down to the ground next to him and dusting her hands off. "Let's go!"
He half-grinned, shaking his head at her in amusement.
They ran the whole way to the train tracks, ducking down alleys and avoiding any of the main roads where they might be seen and caught. The grinding sound of metal on metal, trains lumbering down the tracks, was loud and eerie. It was cold for summer too, making her tuck her hands in the pockets of her coat. Jax walked down one side of the tracks, his arms out, trying to balance, while she trekked along beside him.
"Do you think Mary will come back and try and take him again?"
He looked over at her and frowned before shrugging. "I dunno… Maybe."
Turning her face away, she scowled. "Why can't she just go away?"
"I heard my parents talking about it… Mom said Mary thought SAMCRO was a bad influence. She thought Piney was a bad dad and that if she didn't go then Opie would be just as bad, or worse." His brows hiked high on his forehead. "Can you believe that?"
Chloe snorted. "Opie's the nice one. He could never be a bad guy."
Jax hummed, looking back down at the tracks. "You ever wonder though, like, what it means to be bad?"
She stared up at him curiously. "What do you mean?"
"I dunno, like… Maybe what other people think is bad isn't what we think is bad…"
She frowned. "Like when we were little and I thought cheating was wrong, but you said it was only if other people knew."
He half-smiled. "Yeah, like that."
"At school, we're taught stealing is wrong…" She shrugged. "But at home, I mean, Uncle Tom steals everything."
He laughed, reaching up and running a hand through his hair.
"So, who's right then?" she wondered, peering over at him.
He turned to look at her, staring at her a long moment. "I don't know. Maybe nobody's right… Maybe nobody's good or bad, we just… are."
Crossing her arms, she replied, "Or maybe we're all bad and good…"
"Maybe."
A train started pulled down the tracks then and they hopped off, walking along beside it as it chugged past. But when a steel door pulled open on one of the carts and a dirty Opie hopped out, they picked up their pace, running toward him. He grinned up at them from where he sat on the ground, a bag over his shoulder with what little he'd brought home with him. Jax reached a hand out to help him up and pulled him into a one-armed hug. Chloe bounced impatiently next to them until Jax pulled back and then she shoved her way forward and hugged her brother.
Opie squeezed her tightly. "I'm sorry I missed your birthday."
She shook her head quickly. "Wasn't your fault."
"I didn't know we were leaving. She said we were just gonna visit some family out of town…"
Chloe held him tighter. "You're never allowed to leave again," she told him.
"I didn't wanna go in the first place," he reminded.
"Well, now it's a rule!"
He chuckled under his breath, but nodded.
Pulling back, she smiled triumphantly up at him. "Come on… I'd take you home but Gabe would probably wake up and then mom would freak out and you know how she is. So we'll sneak you into one of the rooms at the club."
"Yeah? And how are we gonna do that? They lock all the doors, remember?" Jax offered up.
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Don't be stupid. Tom showed me how to pick the locks…" She grinned, skipping forward in front of them. "You don't become a master thief like him without breaking into a few places."
Her brother and Jax merely grinned at her.
"You're a criminal in the making, Little Winston," Jax told her, throwing an arm around her shoulders.
Huffing, she shoved him off her. "Then I'll fit right in."
They walked back to the club house, trading lighthearted conversation, and relishing in having Opie back with them. It was four in the morning when they walked into the club. Chloe picked a lock on one of the doors and, exhausted, all three of them collapsed on the bed together, with Chloe's head at one end and her feet up between the two boys' shoulders. She woke up briefly sometime around 9 am when Gemma found them, but Jax's mom simply threw a blanket over them, kissed her son's forehead, and left them to sleep it off.
Come morning, Opie was welcomed with open arms. He was home; exactly where he was supposed to be. And when Mary came calling, that's exactly what Opie told her. She wasn't happy about it, but she didn't try to take him again; she knew he'd always find a way home.
October 29, 1989
Chloe hated black. The last time she had to wear it, she was six years old and they were burying Otto; she vaguely remembered wondering at the complexities of death with John Teller. She didn't like funerals any then and she hated them now. The turnout for Gabe Sullivan wasn't like it was for Otto Moran. There weren't Harley's lining the roads, men didn't crowd around to lay flowers on the casket or say a few words in his honor. His cut wasn't handed to his wife in respect because he didn't have one. Gabe was just a regular guy with a few friends from work that came to give their condolences. He was killed in an accident at the mill, there was no one to blame, no revenge to exact like after Otto's death.
Moira wept as the pastor said a prayer and Chloe gripped her brother's hand tighter. It said a lot that Moira didn't balk at Opie coming to the funeral. Either she was too depressed about Gabe's death to care or she didn't notice that he was there. Whatever the reason, Chloe couldn't help be glad for it.
Gabe was a good guy and she did love him. He was a dad to her in many ways and he made living at home easier than it might've been without him. She was sad that he died, that her mom was hurting, and that he wouldn't be there when she got home.
She let a few tears squeeze out and leaned against Opie's shoulder, grateful when his arm wrapped around her tightly.
Gabe was family. Maybe not to the same degree as most of the other men in her life, but he cared for her, fed her, clothed her, and listened to her when things with her mom were rough. He, probably better than anyone, understood how hard it was to live with Moira, with her increasing episodes making things more and more difficult. And now he was gone, and maybe it was selfish but Chloe couldn't help but be angry with him that he'd left her behind to deal with Moira on her own.
Closing her eyes, she turned and buried her face against her brother. She said a silent farewell to her step-dad, and hoped he was better off wherever he was.
November 15, 1989
Chloe watched the other kids running around, enjoying their lunch break. Some were playing tag, others were on the jungle gym, while some of the older kids sat around together in groups.
"I'm hungry," she declared.
Opie looked over at her from where he was dribbling a basketball, his brow furrowed. "Did you already eat your lunch?"
She shook her head. "Moira didn't make me one."
His eyes bulged in surprise. "So you haven't eaten since breakfast?" He let the ball wander away and walked over to her, taking a seat on the grass with her. "Moira still pretty upset over Gabe?"
Chloe nodded. "She's really quiet now… Sometimes I think she's having an episode, but I don't think that's it… She's not sleeping either, but she went to a doctor for that. Now she takes these pills and she just passes out." Turning her gaze down, she focused on the grass as she plucked it from the ground, making a small pile in front of her. "Opie, do you think Mary loves you?"
He gave it some thought before he shrugged. "I dunno… I guess so. I mean, she wanted me to go with her when she left."
"Do you think you love her?" She turned her head to watch him. "'Cause you didn't stay, so…"
"I love her… She's my mom." His lips twisted in a confused frown. "I just don't fit with her, you know? I… It makes sense here. I belong here."
Chloe nodded. "I don't know if I love my mom…" She threw a handful of grass away. "I don't like her, I know that." Her nose scrunched up. "Can you love someone and not like them at the same time?"
"Sure." He leaned over to bump her shoulder. "Hey, it doesn't matter if Moira's around, right? You got me!"
Smiling faintly, she looked up at him. "Who says I like you?"
He laughed, resting his arms on his upturned knees. "Whatever. Everybody knows I'm your favorite."
She shrugged. "I dunno. Tig's pretty awesome."
"Sure, if you like 'em crazy."
"Maybe I do."
Shaking his head, amused, Opie just watched her out of the corner of his eyes for a moment. His smile faded. "You know, you could come stay at the club house," he told her. "Or tell dad, he's already thinking of buying that old cabin."
Sobering, she shook her head. "I can't leave now. She just lost Gabe."
With a sigh, he frowned at her. "What about what's good for you?"
She forced a smile and stood up. "I'll survive." With that, she walked toward the basketball court and grabbed up the ball. "C'mon. Let's play HORSE."
Sighing, Opie followed after her, dusting grass off his jeans.
He would let it go, but he wouldn't forget.
December, 1989
Things got worse without Gabe, but Chloe had no idea just how much worse they were going to get. Without him there to help out, Moira became less and less capable of taking care of the house or Chloe. The fridge was almost always empty, the dishes never done, the bills rarely paid on time, if ever, and the medication she'd been prescribed by her doctor had created a whole new problem.
Originally, Moira had been prescribed a sleep aid. From there, she was seeing her doctor about every little ache and pain and, before she knew it, she had a prescription med problem. It wasn't so much 'episodes' anymore as Moira seemed to always be in a state of zoned out. More than once, Chloe had found her slumped in a chair, eyes open, drooling absently.
Chloe tried to keep up at home; if she wasn't at school or the club, she cleaned up, snagged some money from her mom's purse for groceries, cooked, and generally tried to keep afloat. Since Chloe was too young to work and Moira lost her job, they were just getting by on what they'd made from the life insurance policy Gabe had for himself. But after paying burial costs, it wasn't a whole lot. She knew that eventually she'd have to break down and ask her dad for help. That, or risk being kicked out on the street when the mortgage didn't get paid.
But for now, she was scraping by, so she would cope and try not to bring too much attention to herself. She still had the club to go to if she needed it, and so she spent most of her time there, hanging with the boys or trailing after Opie and Jax until she was forced to head home. It would have to be enough.
April 9, 1990
When Chloe had to don black again, the club joined her. It wasn't to honor a fallen brother of the cut though, which she thought actually made the service that much sadder. Tommy Teller died from his congenital heart defect only five days earlier. Gemma was inconsolable, sobbing against John's chest as the men of SAMCRO each laid flowers on the small casket.
Chloe stared across the way at a stoic Jax, his hands clasped in front of him, his usually easy-going grin long gone. Opie stood beside him, his hand on his shoulder consolingly. A lump formed in her throat, of emotion and things unsaid. There was a lot she wanted to say; how sorry she was, how sweet Tommy was, that she would miss him, but she didn't know how to say them. And she didn't like that, in the end, words didn't change anything. So instead, she laid her own yellow flower down on the casket and she stepped back, leaning against her Uncle Clay, his hand patting her head comfortingly.
After the service, they all ended up back at the club, but it was somber, emptier than she ever remembered it being, and she spent much of her time sitting on a couch, staring at a toy car somebody hadn't put away, wondering if it was Tommy's and who would play with it now.
It'd be hours later when she found Jax out back, sitting against an old, rusted oil drum, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were ringed red and his jaw was clenched tight. He didn't say anything and she took his cue. Sitting down next to him, she stayed quiet and, after a few minutes, simply put her hand on his.
She knew he was crying, she could feel him trembling; every once in a while, she heard him sniffle. But she didn't bring attention to it, didn't tease him like she might have under different circumstances, she just sat with him until the sun set and Bobby came out to get them. So they climbed up from the dirt ground and walked back toward the club house, but just as she was about to open the door, Jax stopped her.
He didn't say anything, just stared at her a long second before he pulled her in for a hug. It was over as quickly as it started and then he was walking inside. She followed after him, wondering if she'd ever get used to death and its many victims.
May 5, 1990
It wasn't unusual of late to find JT drinking early in the morning. Chloe arrived at the club looking for Opie, but it looked like he and Jax had taken off earlier. As she approached, she found JT sitting at the bar, a cup in hand and a bottle of Jack half empty. She climbed up on to the stool next to him but didn't say anything, just resting her chin on her hand, flat against the bar, watching the arms tick by on the clock.
"Tommy liked you," he finally said, his voice raspy.
She looked over at him and smiled faintly. "I liked him, too."
"You were good to him. Nice, always played with him, watched him when we couldn't… Bit like an older sister to him, I guess."
"I tried to be."
He hummed, nodding, and reached for the bottle with a shaking hand, pouring himself another glass. "You remember, Chloe, when we talked about how death sometimes takes people?"
She nodded.
He let the bottle fall back to the bar with a clank and stared down into his glass at the amber liquid. "It's hard when ya have an enemy that ya can't fight…" He turned to look at her, his eyes a little glazed, dark bags underneath them. "I've got a whole army of guns and nobody to shoot."
"Is death always the enemy?" she wondered.
He smiled faintly. "Death is my friend when it takes my enemy and my enemy when it takes my friends." He lifted his glass in cheers and shot it back.
Chloe stared up at him, a man she'd always admired for his sharp and vast intelligence. "I'm really sorry about Tommy," she whispered.
"Yeah…" He swallowed thickly. "Yeah, me too."
It was a few minutes later that Chloe stood, capped the bottle, and circled around to the bar. She got out the coffee maker and plugged it in, preparing a pot, all while JT watched her at work. Finally, she exchanged his glass of whiskey for a mug of black coffee.
"I don't want you getting too friendly with death," she told him, pouring the whiskey down the sink drain, which was a metaphor more than anything since she was surrounded with more than enough bottles to replace it. "And I don't think Tommy would either."
His jaw flexed and he turned his eyes down to the coffee he reached for with his shaking hand. She covered it and wrapped his fingers around the mug.
"It's okay to be sad… Mom misses Gabe so bad sometimes she cries herself to sleep."
He looked up at her, his brow furrowed, and he nodded. "You're a smart kid, Chloe."
She grinned. "I grew up around some pretty smart people."
He laughed under his breath. "Don't tell Bobby that; it'll go to his head."
Resting her elbows on the bar, she watched as he lifted his coffee and took a long drink. She watched him thoughtfully before wondering, "Do you think you'll be okay?"
He stared back at her before digging a cigarette out, tucking it between his lips, and lighting it. "This life has been nothing for me but pleasure. The worst adversity is only a length I measure."
A smile played at the edges of her lips. "Michael McClure."
He winked at her. "Rare Angel, 1974," he agreed. "Smart, smart kid."
She sat with him until he finished his coffee and then challenged him to a game of checkers.
He still won, and she took that as a good sign. But in the end, it wouldn't be the last time she found JT getting drunk and the truth was, he never was okay again.
[Continue.]