SO! Here is the long (not really) awaited, much anticipated (again, not really) sequel to "Healing". This is a continuation of the last story, and it is going to explore some of the time that the rest of the guys were in prison. And of course, Fiona and Kerrianne visit! No idea how often it will be updated, or when it will be done, but I am having a blast writing it this far. Please read and REVIEW! The reviews mean a lot to me, and I appreciate them all! Enjoy!
Filip Telford enjoyed many things. He enjoyed long rides on his bike, with no particular destination in mind. He enjoyed egg drop soup from the Chinese place downtown. He enjoyed playing countless games of Minesweeper on Juice's laptop until 2 in the morning. He enjoyed busting his daughter out on school occasionally, and just spending the day with her. He enjoyed sending his daughter to a friend's house for a sleepover, so he could spend a loud, thrilling, and sleepless night with his wife. Yes, he was a man who enjoyed many things, but one thing that he absolutely, positively, did NOT enjoy was cleaning his already shockingly neat house under the less than helpful direction of Gemma Teller and Tara Knowles.
"Chibs, here, I think we missed some porn," Tara called with a bit too much glee in her voice, throwing a DVD directly at his head. It hit its target.
"Son of a bitch!" he yelled, paying no mind to the small blond toddler in the corner of the room, banging incessantly on a saucepan. Abel has been SAMCRO since the minute he was born, and he had undoubtedly heard worse.
"Relax Chibs, I doubt that's the first injury you've gotten as a result of porn," Gemma said to him, picking up the DVD and handing it to him. "And watch the goddamn language around my grandson."
He glared at her and the giggling Tara for about half a minute, trying to decide if he was going to respond to her comment, before just altogether deciding against it. The three of them were in the middle of making sure all incriminating things, such as porn and automatic weapons, were removed from his house, or at the very least, hidden much more carefully than they currently were. Though both women were annoying the shit out of him, he couldn't help but be grateful. Tomorrow at this time, he would be at the airport, picking up his wife and daughter. It would not be good for one of them to stumble upon an AK-47 or any part of his Cara Cara Collection. Swallowing his retort, Filip picked up one of the boxes and lugged it out to the van. It would find a nice home at the club house.
It had been just over six months since he and his merry band of motorcycle enthusiasts had returned from Belfast. Six months that his brothers had been locked up in Stockton. Six months since he had murdered the man who had done his best to ruin Filip's life. Six months since he had gotten his wife and his daughter back. Though there was some bad dealt in with the good, Filip could not deny that these had been some of the best months of his life.
He had been keeping himself quite busy. Besides visiting the boys in Stockton, working in the garage, and helping with Club shit, he had been to Belfast twice to see Fiona and Kerryanne, spending just over a month each time. Fiona had come to see him once, just a month ago, but she could only stay a week. It would be Kerryanne's first time here. As far as he could tell, she was really excited to come, and he sure as hell was excited that both of them were coming here. They were planning on staying for six weeks, but he and Fiona both were still hoping to eventually extend that stay by a very, very long time. Either way, he was just happy that he would have them here for a while.
Visiting Belfast had been all well and good, but he was glad for his girls to be finally coming here, to Charming. He was looking forward to showing Kerryanne around and giving her a taste of his life, at least the good parts that were appropriate for a nearly fifteen year old girl. The time that they had spent together in Ireland had allowed them the opportunity to get to know each other much, much better. He discovered that his daughter was incredibly mature, but still loved watching Saturday cartoons. She was smart as hell, and was excellent at math, but not at all a fan of science. He had learned that, while she was quiet, her mind was constantly going. She had a wicked sense of humor and was completely hilarious. She was an excellent friend, a trusted confidant, and was unflinchingly loyal. He loved his Kerryanne, and was beyond proud of the incredibly young woman she had grown into, though he couldn't take much credit at all.
Their impending arrival was what had brought Gemma and Tara to his house at a ridiculously early hour this morning. He wasn't sure what had made them decide to come. He figured that Gemma was just nosey as hell, and Tara probably couldn't face the idea of being stuck, alone in her house with only Abel for company. He couldn't blame her, really. He knew how much she missed having Jax around. They had bonded over missing lovers and cookies more than once. And of course he adored Gemma, but both of them together in the same small house? Not even he was man enough for that.
He lit a cigarette and leaned back against the van, thankful for a moment of peace a quiet. It was nice outside today, the sky was clear blue and it was one of those wonderful in between days that was neither too hot, nor too cold. It was sort of unnatural, really. Summertime in California usually meant blistering heat and about a thousand and a half mosquitos every 12 seconds. All of that was absent today, though. There were flowers growing, birds chirping, and a light breeze blowing. It truly was a beautiful day. He rested his head against the van door and closed his eyes, enjoying the momentary escape from the chaos inside.
Of course, no sooner had he done that, than the door swung open and the matriarch marched out the door and tossed something at his head. This time, he caught the object flying, and rather than porn, it was his cell phone.
"You've got a phone call, Honey. Give me the keys," she demanded. "I wanna take this load to the garage and then pick up some lunch."
"Why? The van only has four boxes in it, and it is only 11:00?" he questioned her, confused as to why she was in such a hurry to bolt.
"Because Tara is crying again, and I don't want to deal with it," Gemma said, smirking at him, "Pregnant chicks annoy the shit out of me."
"Christ," he muttered, handing the keys over and making his way to the front porch with the phone held to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Hey Da! Who is Tara again, and why is she crying?" he heard Kerryanne's voice ask from the other end of the line.
"Hey Baby. Tara is Jax's girl, Abel's mother. And she is crying because she is pregnant, and apparently that's what pregnant women do," he replied, with a heavy sigh. "How are you doing? Shouldn't you be getting ready to board a plane in a few hours?"
"Good to know. I am fine, and I am getting ready, but Ma is being annoying and mean," she complained, with what he hoped was a lighthearted tone.
"Oh, what a villainous Ma you have. Tell me, what has the terrible woman done now?" he asked, making his sarcasm more than evident.
"She won't let me pack all of the stuff I need! She said I need to cut back and I can only bring two bags!" Kerryanne whined.
"Well, how many bags were you trying to bring?" he wondered, slightly concerned about why she might need more than two bags.
She was quiet for a moment, before he heard her mumble, "Four."
"Oh Darlin, I'm sorry to say that I don't think four bags would even fit in your room," he laughed.
"Where are you sticking me? A cupboard under the stairs?" she asked, exasperated.
"Worse, broom closet," he joked. "Listen, just cut down a bit. Remember, we do have stores in America. We'll get you what you need."
"Fine," she said, huffing a bit. "Do you want to talk to Ma? I have to go reevaluate my whole wardrobe."
"Absolutely. Can't wait to see you, Baby. Have a safe flight, love you," he said, knowing that she wasn't really upset.
"Love you too, Da," she said, with a smile in her voice, before handing the phone to Fiona.
"Christ, Filip, your daughter is driving me up a wall," he heard Fiona's tired voice say.
"Why is she only my daughter when she is driving you up a wall or punching somebody, but when she is all calm and sweet and angelic, she is your daughter?" he questioned.
"Because that's just the way it is," Fiona replied.
"Ah, I see then. How are you, Love?" he asked.
"Doing fine. Not actually feeling all that well, and I'll be glad once we get there," she answered honestly.
"What's wrong?" He was a little bit worried. Fiona was tough as nails and rarely admitted to not feeling well.
"Just tired, I think, and a bit sore. I haven't been sleeping well lately, I suppose. Probably too excited. I'm going on a trip to visit my husband, you see," she said, trying to ease his worry.
"Lucky guy," he joked. "But really, are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes, Love. I am fine. Or I will be, as soon as I get Kerryanne squared away. Four suitcases, she wanted to bring! Can you believe that?" she asked.
"Says the woman who packed an 80 pound bag for a week long trip," he reminded her.
"I didn't hear you complain too hard about the fact that most of it was lingerie," she retorted.
"Good point," he admitted, and they shared a laugh. He loved the sound of her laugh, and it always, always made him want to kiss her soundly. He was so damned happy that they would be here soon. "Are you sure you're okay? Do you need me to do anything?"
"Just pick us up tomorrow. Don't worry about me, I will be fine. I will drug Kerryanne and get some sleep on the plane," she assured him. She was quiet for a moment. "I love you, you know."
"I know, Fi. Love you, too. I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked.
"Absolutely. Goodbye, Love!" she said, before hanging up.
He hung up the phone with a smile on his face, though he couldn't help but be at least a little worried about Fiona. With his luck, they would arrive just in time for her to come down with bubonic plague. Figuring he might as well face the inevitable, he turned to walk inside, ready to deal with whatever was wrong with Tara. He found her sitting on the couch, flipping channels. Abel was asleep by her side. He claimed the third cushion as his own. He looked over at her. Her face was calm and she was actually smiling at him.
"You don't look as if you've been in here crying hysterically," he observed.
"Yeah, I haven't been. When I start crying, Gemma always leaves. It's like an automatic response in her. Therefore, when she starts annoying the shit out of me, I pretend to start crying. Works every time," she bragged.
"Shit, do you suppose that would work for me?" he asked, somewhat impressed by the heavily pregnant doctor.
"Not a chance," Tara smirked at him, before turning her attention back to The Real Housewives of Wherever.
Women, he thought, rolling his eyes and reaching for the laptop. Since he figured that there was very little chance of him getting his TV back anytime soon, so he might as well get some Minesweeper in, before Gemma got back with lunch and started to force him to do more unnecessary rearranging or straightening. This day sucked, but in the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter. His girls were worth it.