Daughter of Anarchy - PG13 - Chloe/Jax - Part Three [b]
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.
[Return.]
February 6, 1990
"Now, yeh promise not t' tell yer da' about this, right?" Chibs asked, turning his gun, a smooth, black Beretta, over in his hands.
She grinned up at him. Holding up two fingers, she told him, "Scout's honor."
He smirked toothily and turned to face the fence, where bottles were all lined up. "Now this gun in't like those BB guns you and yer brother been playin' with," he warned, playing with the safety. "This one's got kick and, if you're not holdin' it right, it's gonna kick yeh right in the face."
Nodding, she listened to him closely as he told her how to stand, how to aim, which way to grip the gun, to squeeze not pull the trigger.
At ten years old, Chloe learned how to shoot a gun. She shattered three out of the ten bottles Chibs set up for her and felt a weird sense of power with each bullet that left the chamber. For just a moment, it scared her. Not in the way that it might others, where they understood that guns could mean death, and she could accidentally shoot herself or someone innocent. No, it scared her in the way that she liked it. She liked the weight of it in her palm, the pressure each time she squeezed the trigger, the totality of what it meant.
When Chibs lined up another ten bottles, she shot four. On her sixth try, she got them all. And not for the first time, she felt like a true daughter of SAMCRO.
April 1991
"I'm telling you, the Mayans are expanding… I'm seeing their shit all over the damn place. We got junkies strung out in the goddamn super market. If I have to tell my kids one more damn time that it's just a bad flu goin' around, I'm gonna blown someone's brains out," Wally shouted.
"All right, all right, calm down," JT replied. "What proof do we have that it's the Mayans that are selling here?"
"I'm telling you it's them, brother," Chico sighed. "They're pushing me out, trying to keep it hush-hush, but they've been askin' around, they want to know who's dealing in Charming. They're already spreading down San Joaquin County and they're headed right for us."
"Thought we had a deal with 'em. You said you had 'em in your pocket," Clay grunted.
"Thought I did. But they know where my loyalties are; they gotta think about their club."
"If we do this, what you're talking about here is all-out war!" JT exclaimed.
Chloe leaned in closer as a tense hush fell over the room. She'd had to pick a lock to one of the bedrooms and press a glass up against the wall to hear them, but some things were worth the effort. Things had been tense for months, but none of the guys would let her in on what was happening. Now that she knew, her heart hammered in her chest. The Mayans were a predominantly Mexican motorcycle club that controlled Southern California and Nevada; their main export was drugs and it looked like they wanted Charming to be their next pit-stop.
"So let's say we do go to war, then what?" Piney wondered.
"You mean besides a jump in our casualty count?" Clay returned.
"I mean, what if war is the only way we keep these assholes out of Charming?"
Grumbles could be heard, discontent and uncertainty abounding.
"No, listen, these guys are pushing their way in whether we like it or not, so the only way we get them out is to push back… They didn't come knockin' on our days, askin' permission, they just rolled in and started sellin'. It sends a message… So we need to reply!"
"You guys need to remember what war means…" JT intervened before his club got too caught up. "We hit them, they hit back, and we have more than just ourselves to think about here. Most of us have families, kids to think about."
"That's who we're fighting for here too, JT! Those Mayans come in here and they're not gonna care who they're sellin' too! We'll have no control over who snorts what."
The arguing went on for a while, and Chloe listened intently to it all.
Finally, as the gavel hit the table, she left the room and walked right out the back of the club house. She ran all the way over to old Mister Baker's house, where she knew Opie was doing some yard work for him for a few extra bucks. She found him digging in the dirt, pulling up weeds in the back.
Coming to a stop next to him, she bent, hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. "We're going to war against the Mayans," she told him.
Sighing, he rubbed the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead and frowned. "This is going to be bad…"
She nodded.
He looked over his shoulder to make sure Mister Baker wasn't around or listening and then turned back to her. "You hear anything else?"
"Not everybody's happy about it. They're worried the blow-back might hit the families…" She shrugged. "Most of them don't think they have a choice though. Either we push back or we roll over and let them through."
He chewed his lip, casting his eyes around in thought. "Once they start, things are going to get rough around here."
Grimly, she said, "Bobby wants to attack this weekend."
"And?"
She grimaced. "There's a pretty good chance SAMCRO goes to war on Sunday."
They stared at each other a long moment.
Chloe didn't like to think about what it could mean, who it could take, if her dad or uncles would fill the casualty list, but it looked like now it would be all she was thinking of.
War broke out that Sunday. And it didn't stop for a long while.
March 10, 1992
Chloe was twelve years old when she was kissed for the first time. She was fairly sure it was a dare since, well, most people didn't ever try and kiss someone so heavily related to SAMCRO without their distinct permission first, and she definitely hadn't given that.
She was sitting on a bench at lunch, a book in her lap, her bag at her side, and no friends in sight. Truthfully, Chloe didn't have a whole lot of friends. At least, not many that were in school. Her brother was either always with Jax or hitting on whatever girl had drawn his eye that week. She didn't blame him. He was fourteen and hormonal and something about having his twelve-year-old sister around probably put a crimp in his plans. Besides, Chloe liked her solitude. Which was why she was more than a little surprised when a boy from a grade up, Matthew Something-or-Other, sauntered over from his group of friends, blocking her sun, and smirked at her.
She tensed at first. For nearly a year the Mayans and SAMCRO had been at war and she felt like she was always on edge. Sure, the boy in front of her was only thirteen, but he wasn't part of the club, and that meant she didn't trust him.
"Did you want something?" she wondered, her voice sharp, a brow raised.
He glanced once over his shoulder, where his friends busted out laughing again, and then turned back to her. "Yeah," he said, and then he leaned forward so quick she hardly had a chance to react.
His lips were wet; originally, the first word that came to mind was slimy.
The kiss lasted all of three seconds, because her brain kicked in and she reared her head back. "What the hell!?" she exclaimed, one of her hands balling up into a fist to let him know just how much she didn't appreciate the attention.
But Matthew didn't get a chance to explain, and she didn't get a chance to sock him, because Opie, who'd been flirting with a pretty cheerleader not far away, had seen the whole thing.
Opie had hit his growth spurt the summer before and towered over Matthew by at least half a foot. He'd taken after their father in the height department and, while only six feet at the time, she imagined he'd gain another five inches to reach the same as their dad. More than that, Opie was strong. He wasn't built like a linebacker, but he was still dangerous. In part because he and Jax had been hitting the gym more in, what they called, "preparation" for being inducted into the Sons. So it was no surprise when Opie grabbed Matthew by the front of his shirt and yanked him in close, glaring down in his face, that Matthew lost all of his previous humor over the situation.
"Who the hell do you think you are, kissing my sister?"
"I-I-N-No! I-It-It wasn't like that! I-" Matthew stuttered.
"Really? 'Cause it looked like you walked right over here and planted one on her," Jax's lazy voice could be heard then.
Chloe tipped her head back to see him standing behind her, his hands braced on the back of the bench.
His lips were pressed into a firm line, his eyebrow raised. "You ask permission, Sutton? Or you just go around kissing whoever you want?"
Matthew, whose last name was apparently Sutton, turned to look at Jax and then Opie and finally, pleadingly, down at Chloe.
"Don't look at her, look at us," Jax ordered. "I asked you a question. Did you ask for permission before you kissed Chloe?"
"I- I-" He sagged, defeat filling his face. "No."
"See, then we got a problem here." Jax hopped over the back of the bench and took a seat next to Chloe, whose shoulders he wrapped an arm around. "We can't have you setting a precedent, Sutton… We let you get away with kissing Little Winston here and it gets other guys thinking it's open season…" He stared at him searchingly. "You see why we can't have that?"
He nodded jerkily. "But I won't! I- I won't kiss her again. I- It was a mistake. I didn't-"
"Now, don't insult her. That's not going to help you. I'm sure she was a great kisser. Weren't you, sweetheart?" He turned to grin at her.
She rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Jax."
"Is that any way to talk to someone who just saved your ass?"
She snorted. "It was a three-second kiss that I'll gladly forget all about." Standing from the bench, she grabbed up her book and her bag, and then turned to her brother and Matthew. "Don't break any bones and make sure he doesn't rat. You don't need a suspension on your record," she told him, waiting for him to nod.
Opie took a second, considered it, and then agreed to her stipulations. With that, she left.
"Fight, fight, fight!" the cheer rang out behind her.
At the end of the school day, Matthew approached her, wearing two black eyes and a busted lip. He apologized for what he did and then ran off before she could say anything in return.
She wasn't surprised when Jax and Opie took it upon themselves to walk her home from school that day, or to find a way to be nearby for the next few weeks of lunch breaks. But the message had already gotten around and it was crystal clear. Unless they wanted to be confronted by Jax and Opie, nobody was giving Chloe a second look.
Unfortunately, she never did forget that kiss. Not because it was good or particularly memorable, but because that was the beginning of her adolescent life, the start of what would later become a pattern of relationships that never really got off the ground. Boys might like her, but they were far more afraid of her brother. So, she told herself it would be fine, she didn't even like anyone anyway. And, if she really wanted to date, she could wait until Opie finished high school and was no longer scaring off any potential suitors.
May 15, 1992
Chloe paused in the bar of the club, wincing. She'd been running on her way in, her footsteps loud, but thankfully they hadn't woken the man passed out before her. His hand was still curled around a bottle of whiskey, his head down, face buried in the crook of his arm. She tip-toed past him in the direction of the hall leading to the bedrooms; she and Opie had plans to go fishing.
This was the third day in a row she'd found JT like this; she wasn't even sure why she didn't expect it at this point. His drinking was getting worse, but he usually covered it better. If everybody else was drunk, then it didn't look so out of place that he was too. The men of SAMCRO were no strangers to drinking at odd hours or until they were well past drunk, but she knew what JT was doing was different somehow. She remembered the conversation they'd had about Tommy and she wondered if maybe he wasn't really coping at all.
"Hey."
Jumping, she whirled around, only relaxing when she found Opie grinning at her. "Shh!" she said, waving a hand and nodding her head toward JT.
He shrugged. "He won't wake up. Tig already walked through here singing and he didn't even flinch."
Chloe cringed. If there was one thing Tig was not, it was a good singer. He would wake the dead just so they could beg him to shut up. "Do you think he's all right?" she worried, peering at JT.
"He's alive." Opie handed her a fishing pole and started across the club. "He's just dealing, y'know?"
Chloe bit her lip and followed her brother out, casting one last look at her father's oldest friend before stepping out of the club.
They walked down the street, cutting across the elementary school field, and followed a dirt road down toward the lake. Opie whistled as they walked, comfortable with the lack of conversation. Chloe was eager to talk though. To her, JT represented a big portion of the club and the fact that something was wrong made her worried. Not just because he was a good man who she'd grown up with and looked for when she needed a guiding hand, but because if he fell apart, what did that mean for SAMCRO? When she voiced this to her brother, Opie frowned down at the ground, kicking a pebble.
"Whatever happens, SAMCRO won't fall apart," he told her. "It's a brotherhood and if we lose a brother, we honor him, we carry on for him."
"That's if he dies, Ope. Not if he just falls apart…" She looked over at him. "Do you think JT's going to die? 'Cause my teacher said drinking too much can kill a person."
He didn't answer right away, balancing his fishing pole behind his neck, his arms hung over it. "Dad said that losing a kid was one of the worst things that could happen. He said it wasn't something people just get over…" He looked at her. "Maybe JT won't be able to let go of Tommy."
"What about Jax?"
"Jax is tough; maybe JT doesn't think he needs his dad."
Chloe scowled. "Well, that's dumb! Jax loves his dad. He can't just leave him!"
Opie sighed. "I dunno… Dad just said that if he lost one of us, he'd be a crazy mess."
"Yeah, but… I wouldn't want dad to die just 'cause I did." She shook her head. "I wouldn't want anyone to die if I did."
"Well then don't die, dummy."
Rolling her eyes, she shoved him. "Shut up."
He half-grinned and threw an arm around her shoulders. "I don't know what's gonna happen with JT," he admitted. "But I hope he makes it… For Jax, at least."
"Yeah…"
Chloe took a deep breath and raised her chin. She smiled up at her brother and decided that this wasn't something they should dwell on. They couldn't see the future and maybe it would just take a while for JT to find his footing again. "Race you!" she said to Opie before taking off ahead of him.
"Cheater!" he laughed before bounding after her.
They spent the morning sitting on the dock, fishing poles in their hands, forgetting about everything and just enjoying themselves.
October 30, 1993
"What do you mean the Halloween party is cancelled? We have one every year!" Chloe complained.
"I know, baby, but it's just not safe right now," Gemma said, shaking her head. "Everybody in masks, we won't know who's who."
"This is stupid! Can't we just check faces at the doors?" She turned on her stool to follow the older woman as she moved around the club house from the bar to the pool table, collecting empty mugs, and back.
"And what, assume every Mexican is in with the Mayans?" she scoffed. "Don't let any of 'em in?"
"No…" She scowled. "That'd be racist."
"Well, how do you propose we figure out whether they're in with the Mayans or not?"
Her brows hiked. "They'll have tattoos, won't they?"
"So now you want me to strip search everyone who comes to the party?"
Chloe slumped in her seat.
Taking pity, Gemma leaned against the bar and patted her hair. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know how much you love the parties…"
"I'm just sick and tired of this war," she sighed.
"We all are, trust me." Tucking Chloe's bangs away from her eyes, she said, "How about this? You and me dress up and we try that karaoke bar that just opened up? It'll probably be all god-awful country music, but it gets us out, right?"
A faint smile tugged at her lips. "That could be cool."
Gemma grinned, nodding. "Exactly. So we're good?"
"Yeah. Sorry I got so mad. I just…" She shook her head. "It's been two and a half years already…"
"I know, honey." She cupped Chloe's chin and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Sometimes important things take time to happen."
"Well, I'm impatient," she muttered.
Gemma laughed. "I've noticed."
Still, the following night, she and Gemma went down to the karaoke bar and had a good time. Chloe forgot all about the lack of Halloween party as she sang terrible, cheesy songs from the 80's and danced on stage with a laughing, tipsy Gemma. If anything, it was just nice to have a girl's night. That was more than worth the Halloween party.
[Next: Part Four.]
Author's Note: I'm excited we're finally getting up into Chloe's teen years. I hope you guys are still enjoying this and I'd love to hear who your favorite characters are and where you think this is headed.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I appreciate the support: batgirl_2992, moonstar_sfu, lynzie914, purple_moon123, sandy1024, georgee5, and lionhearted_21.
Thanks so much for reading. Please leave a review!
- Lee | Fina
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.
[Return.]
February 6, 1990
"Now, yeh promise not t' tell yer da' about this, right?" Chibs asked, turning his gun, a smooth, black Beretta, over in his hands.
She grinned up at him. Holding up two fingers, she told him, "Scout's honor."
He smirked toothily and turned to face the fence, where bottles were all lined up. "Now this gun in't like those BB guns you and yer brother been playin' with," he warned, playing with the safety. "This one's got kick and, if you're not holdin' it right, it's gonna kick yeh right in the face."
Nodding, she listened to him closely as he told her how to stand, how to aim, which way to grip the gun, to squeeze not pull the trigger.
At ten years old, Chloe learned how to shoot a gun. She shattered three out of the ten bottles Chibs set up for her and felt a weird sense of power with each bullet that left the chamber. For just a moment, it scared her. Not in the way that it might others, where they understood that guns could mean death, and she could accidentally shoot herself or someone innocent. No, it scared her in the way that she liked it. She liked the weight of it in her palm, the pressure each time she squeezed the trigger, the totality of what it meant.
When Chibs lined up another ten bottles, she shot four. On her sixth try, she got them all. And not for the first time, she felt like a true daughter of SAMCRO.
April 1991
"I'm telling you, the Mayans are expanding… I'm seeing their shit all over the damn place. We got junkies strung out in the goddamn super market. If I have to tell my kids one more damn time that it's just a bad flu goin' around, I'm gonna blown someone's brains out," Wally shouted.
"All right, all right, calm down," JT replied. "What proof do we have that it's the Mayans that are selling here?"
"I'm telling you it's them, brother," Chico sighed. "They're pushing me out, trying to keep it hush-hush, but they've been askin' around, they want to know who's dealing in Charming. They're already spreading down San Joaquin County and they're headed right for us."
"Thought we had a deal with 'em. You said you had 'em in your pocket," Clay grunted.
"Thought I did. But they know where my loyalties are; they gotta think about their club."
"If we do this, what you're talking about here is all-out war!" JT exclaimed.
Chloe leaned in closer as a tense hush fell over the room. She'd had to pick a lock to one of the bedrooms and press a glass up against the wall to hear them, but some things were worth the effort. Things had been tense for months, but none of the guys would let her in on what was happening. Now that she knew, her heart hammered in her chest. The Mayans were a predominantly Mexican motorcycle club that controlled Southern California and Nevada; their main export was drugs and it looked like they wanted Charming to be their next pit-stop.
"So let's say we do go to war, then what?" Piney wondered.
"You mean besides a jump in our casualty count?" Clay returned.
"I mean, what if war is the only way we keep these assholes out of Charming?"
Grumbles could be heard, discontent and uncertainty abounding.
"No, listen, these guys are pushing their way in whether we like it or not, so the only way we get them out is to push back… They didn't come knockin' on our days, askin' permission, they just rolled in and started sellin'. It sends a message… So we need to reply!"
"You guys need to remember what war means…" JT intervened before his club got too caught up. "We hit them, they hit back, and we have more than just ourselves to think about here. Most of us have families, kids to think about."
"That's who we're fighting for here too, JT! Those Mayans come in here and they're not gonna care who they're sellin' too! We'll have no control over who snorts what."
The arguing went on for a while, and Chloe listened intently to it all.
Finally, as the gavel hit the table, she left the room and walked right out the back of the club house. She ran all the way over to old Mister Baker's house, where she knew Opie was doing some yard work for him for a few extra bucks. She found him digging in the dirt, pulling up weeds in the back.
Coming to a stop next to him, she bent, hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. "We're going to war against the Mayans," she told him.
Sighing, he rubbed the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead and frowned. "This is going to be bad…"
She nodded.
He looked over his shoulder to make sure Mister Baker wasn't around or listening and then turned back to her. "You hear anything else?"
"Not everybody's happy about it. They're worried the blow-back might hit the families…" She shrugged. "Most of them don't think they have a choice though. Either we push back or we roll over and let them through."
He chewed his lip, casting his eyes around in thought. "Once they start, things are going to get rough around here."
Grimly, she said, "Bobby wants to attack this weekend."
"And?"
She grimaced. "There's a pretty good chance SAMCRO goes to war on Sunday."
They stared at each other a long moment.
Chloe didn't like to think about what it could mean, who it could take, if her dad or uncles would fill the casualty list, but it looked like now it would be all she was thinking of.
War broke out that Sunday. And it didn't stop for a long while.
March 10, 1992
Chloe was twelve years old when she was kissed for the first time. She was fairly sure it was a dare since, well, most people didn't ever try and kiss someone so heavily related to SAMCRO without their distinct permission first, and she definitely hadn't given that.
She was sitting on a bench at lunch, a book in her lap, her bag at her side, and no friends in sight. Truthfully, Chloe didn't have a whole lot of friends. At least, not many that were in school. Her brother was either always with Jax or hitting on whatever girl had drawn his eye that week. She didn't blame him. He was fourteen and hormonal and something about having his twelve-year-old sister around probably put a crimp in his plans. Besides, Chloe liked her solitude. Which was why she was more than a little surprised when a boy from a grade up, Matthew Something-or-Other, sauntered over from his group of friends, blocking her sun, and smirked at her.
She tensed at first. For nearly a year the Mayans and SAMCRO had been at war and she felt like she was always on edge. Sure, the boy in front of her was only thirteen, but he wasn't part of the club, and that meant she didn't trust him.
"Did you want something?" she wondered, her voice sharp, a brow raised.
He glanced once over his shoulder, where his friends busted out laughing again, and then turned back to her. "Yeah," he said, and then he leaned forward so quick she hardly had a chance to react.
His lips were wet; originally, the first word that came to mind was slimy.
The kiss lasted all of three seconds, because her brain kicked in and she reared her head back. "What the hell!?" she exclaimed, one of her hands balling up into a fist to let him know just how much she didn't appreciate the attention.
But Matthew didn't get a chance to explain, and she didn't get a chance to sock him, because Opie, who'd been flirting with a pretty cheerleader not far away, had seen the whole thing.
Opie had hit his growth spurt the summer before and towered over Matthew by at least half a foot. He'd taken after their father in the height department and, while only six feet at the time, she imagined he'd gain another five inches to reach the same as their dad. More than that, Opie was strong. He wasn't built like a linebacker, but he was still dangerous. In part because he and Jax had been hitting the gym more in, what they called, "preparation" for being inducted into the Sons. So it was no surprise when Opie grabbed Matthew by the front of his shirt and yanked him in close, glaring down in his face, that Matthew lost all of his previous humor over the situation.
"Who the hell do you think you are, kissing my sister?"
"I-I-N-No! I-It-It wasn't like that! I-" Matthew stuttered.
"Really? 'Cause it looked like you walked right over here and planted one on her," Jax's lazy voice could be heard then.
Chloe tipped her head back to see him standing behind her, his hands braced on the back of the bench.
His lips were pressed into a firm line, his eyebrow raised. "You ask permission, Sutton? Or you just go around kissing whoever you want?"
Matthew, whose last name was apparently Sutton, turned to look at Jax and then Opie and finally, pleadingly, down at Chloe.
"Don't look at her, look at us," Jax ordered. "I asked you a question. Did you ask for permission before you kissed Chloe?"
"I- I-" He sagged, defeat filling his face. "No."
"See, then we got a problem here." Jax hopped over the back of the bench and took a seat next to Chloe, whose shoulders he wrapped an arm around. "We can't have you setting a precedent, Sutton… We let you get away with kissing Little Winston here and it gets other guys thinking it's open season…" He stared at him searchingly. "You see why we can't have that?"
He nodded jerkily. "But I won't! I- I won't kiss her again. I- It was a mistake. I didn't-"
"Now, don't insult her. That's not going to help you. I'm sure she was a great kisser. Weren't you, sweetheart?" He turned to grin at her.
She rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Jax."
"Is that any way to talk to someone who just saved your ass?"
She snorted. "It was a three-second kiss that I'll gladly forget all about." Standing from the bench, she grabbed up her book and her bag, and then turned to her brother and Matthew. "Don't break any bones and make sure he doesn't rat. You don't need a suspension on your record," she told him, waiting for him to nod.
Opie took a second, considered it, and then agreed to her stipulations. With that, she left.
"Fight, fight, fight!" the cheer rang out behind her.
At the end of the school day, Matthew approached her, wearing two black eyes and a busted lip. He apologized for what he did and then ran off before she could say anything in return.
She wasn't surprised when Jax and Opie took it upon themselves to walk her home from school that day, or to find a way to be nearby for the next few weeks of lunch breaks. But the message had already gotten around and it was crystal clear. Unless they wanted to be confronted by Jax and Opie, nobody was giving Chloe a second look.
Unfortunately, she never did forget that kiss. Not because it was good or particularly memorable, but because that was the beginning of her adolescent life, the start of what would later become a pattern of relationships that never really got off the ground. Boys might like her, but they were far more afraid of her brother. So, she told herself it would be fine, she didn't even like anyone anyway. And, if she really wanted to date, she could wait until Opie finished high school and was no longer scaring off any potential suitors.
May 15, 1992
Chloe paused in the bar of the club, wincing. She'd been running on her way in, her footsteps loud, but thankfully they hadn't woken the man passed out before her. His hand was still curled around a bottle of whiskey, his head down, face buried in the crook of his arm. She tip-toed past him in the direction of the hall leading to the bedrooms; she and Opie had plans to go fishing.
This was the third day in a row she'd found JT like this; she wasn't even sure why she didn't expect it at this point. His drinking was getting worse, but he usually covered it better. If everybody else was drunk, then it didn't look so out of place that he was too. The men of SAMCRO were no strangers to drinking at odd hours or until they were well past drunk, but she knew what JT was doing was different somehow. She remembered the conversation they'd had about Tommy and she wondered if maybe he wasn't really coping at all.
"Hey."
Jumping, she whirled around, only relaxing when she found Opie grinning at her. "Shh!" she said, waving a hand and nodding her head toward JT.
He shrugged. "He won't wake up. Tig already walked through here singing and he didn't even flinch."
Chloe cringed. If there was one thing Tig was not, it was a good singer. He would wake the dead just so they could beg him to shut up. "Do you think he's all right?" she worried, peering at JT.
"He's alive." Opie handed her a fishing pole and started across the club. "He's just dealing, y'know?"
Chloe bit her lip and followed her brother out, casting one last look at her father's oldest friend before stepping out of the club.
They walked down the street, cutting across the elementary school field, and followed a dirt road down toward the lake. Opie whistled as they walked, comfortable with the lack of conversation. Chloe was eager to talk though. To her, JT represented a big portion of the club and the fact that something was wrong made her worried. Not just because he was a good man who she'd grown up with and looked for when she needed a guiding hand, but because if he fell apart, what did that mean for SAMCRO? When she voiced this to her brother, Opie frowned down at the ground, kicking a pebble.
"Whatever happens, SAMCRO won't fall apart," he told her. "It's a brotherhood and if we lose a brother, we honor him, we carry on for him."
"That's if he dies, Ope. Not if he just falls apart…" She looked over at him. "Do you think JT's going to die? 'Cause my teacher said drinking too much can kill a person."
He didn't answer right away, balancing his fishing pole behind his neck, his arms hung over it. "Dad said that losing a kid was one of the worst things that could happen. He said it wasn't something people just get over…" He looked at her. "Maybe JT won't be able to let go of Tommy."
"What about Jax?"
"Jax is tough; maybe JT doesn't think he needs his dad."
Chloe scowled. "Well, that's dumb! Jax loves his dad. He can't just leave him!"
Opie sighed. "I dunno… Dad just said that if he lost one of us, he'd be a crazy mess."
"Yeah, but… I wouldn't want dad to die just 'cause I did." She shook her head. "I wouldn't want anyone to die if I did."
"Well then don't die, dummy."
Rolling her eyes, she shoved him. "Shut up."
He half-grinned and threw an arm around her shoulders. "I don't know what's gonna happen with JT," he admitted. "But I hope he makes it… For Jax, at least."
"Yeah…"
Chloe took a deep breath and raised her chin. She smiled up at her brother and decided that this wasn't something they should dwell on. They couldn't see the future and maybe it would just take a while for JT to find his footing again. "Race you!" she said to Opie before taking off ahead of him.
"Cheater!" he laughed before bounding after her.
They spent the morning sitting on the dock, fishing poles in their hands, forgetting about everything and just enjoying themselves.
October 30, 1993
"What do you mean the Halloween party is cancelled? We have one every year!" Chloe complained.
"I know, baby, but it's just not safe right now," Gemma said, shaking her head. "Everybody in masks, we won't know who's who."
"This is stupid! Can't we just check faces at the doors?" She turned on her stool to follow the older woman as she moved around the club house from the bar to the pool table, collecting empty mugs, and back.
"And what, assume every Mexican is in with the Mayans?" she scoffed. "Don't let any of 'em in?"
"No…" She scowled. "That'd be racist."
"Well, how do you propose we figure out whether they're in with the Mayans or not?"
Her brows hiked. "They'll have tattoos, won't they?"
"So now you want me to strip search everyone who comes to the party?"
Chloe slumped in her seat.
Taking pity, Gemma leaned against the bar and patted her hair. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know how much you love the parties…"
"I'm just sick and tired of this war," she sighed.
"We all are, trust me." Tucking Chloe's bangs away from her eyes, she said, "How about this? You and me dress up and we try that karaoke bar that just opened up? It'll probably be all god-awful country music, but it gets us out, right?"
A faint smile tugged at her lips. "That could be cool."
Gemma grinned, nodding. "Exactly. So we're good?"
"Yeah. Sorry I got so mad. I just…" She shook her head. "It's been two and a half years already…"
"I know, honey." She cupped Chloe's chin and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Sometimes important things take time to happen."
"Well, I'm impatient," she muttered.
Gemma laughed. "I've noticed."
Still, the following night, she and Gemma went down to the karaoke bar and had a good time. Chloe forgot all about the lack of Halloween party as she sang terrible, cheesy songs from the 80's and danced on stage with a laughing, tipsy Gemma. If anything, it was just nice to have a girl's night. That was more than worth the Halloween party.
[Next: Part Four.]
Author's Note: I'm excited we're finally getting up into Chloe's teen years. I hope you guys are still enjoying this and I'd love to hear who your favorite characters are and where you think this is headed.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I appreciate the support: batgirl_2992, moonstar_sfu, lynzie914, purple_moon123, sandy1024, georgee5, and lionhearted_21.
Thanks so much for reading. Please leave a review!
- Lee | Fina