Fear of the Reaper

by AllTheGoodNamesAreGoneAlready

Kaoife had suffered plenty of loss in her life. To most people, she was over it. But that was far from the truth. With the death of her father still echoing in her, she flees Belfast with SAMBEL transfer Ciaran and heads for Charming, in hope of finding comfort in an old friend. However, nothing is ever so easy. Once you stop running, things start to catch up with you...

1. The New Familiar

Kicking off at the beginning of Season 6, sticking as closely to the original storyline as possible. However, slightly AU as Venus Van Damme will not be included in this story.
Anything you recognise does not belong to me, but to the genius, dark and twisted mind of Mr Kurt Sutter.

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For the first time in her life, Kaoife McGee was currently travelling at an average speed of seven hundred miles an hour, faster than any bike could ever take her. In a large airplane cabin, fitted with three rows of three seats front to back, she was staring straight ahead - peaking over the seats in front of her at the blue velvet curtain separating her and her fellow passengers from the business class. By the emergency door ahead, Kaoife could see the snoozing head of her friend Ciaran, who was accompanying her on the trip. Watching the disgruntled passenger by Ciaran's side, Kaoife laughed as the woman placed headphones over her ears to drown out his raucous snoring.
As well as the loud grumbling emanating from Ciaran, the mind-numbing thunder of the jet engines outside had become unnoticeable to her, her ears being almost numb due to the altitude. Luckily, this made it easier to relax - even in the cramped space she had been allocated. After the cheap airplane meal provided, all Kaoife wanted to do was sleep and rid her mouth of the foul taste. This had lead to her currently working on her third glass of wine, in an attempt to fall asleep quicker. Flying was certainly an experience, but after the first three hours, the novelty had wore off and now she was bored, her legs were growing restless and her stomach was cramping. All she wanted was to sleep for the next six hours, catch the connection flight, then sleep for another five and a half hours on that. Swirling the smooth, cool plastic cup of wine in her hand, Kaoife stared at it before throwing it to the back of her throat. Sitting the cup back on her small fold down tray, she swallowed hard and reached for the blue, repeatedly dry cleaned blanket that rested on her knees. The warm yet rough material scratched lightly on the callouses on her palm, at the base of her middle fingers as she pulled it up towards her face, leaving it to fall just over her shoulders. The smell of cheap detergent lingered for a moment, before the pungency of the meals served to Kaoife and her neighbours filled the air again as Kaoife wrapped her fingers around the rosary round her neck, rolling some of the wooden beads in her fingers as she nodded off.

Culture-shock of New York seemed to tackle Kaoife as soon as the airplane ground to a halt on the tarmac of Newark. After looking up out of the small window, she saw the reflection of the sky in the grey windows of the airport, which towered high above the plane. Out of habit, she had looked to Ciaran to check if he too saw this monstrosity of a building. Ciaran, also seeing the giant building, had his dark angular eyebrows raised in disbelief.
Once they were in the airport, they had two hours to kill before their next flight. Their plan had been to have a few drinks in the pub at their departure gate, but both had underestimated how draining the flight would be. Instead, they found themselves lying on the floor, beside an endless ocean of metal linked metal chairs. Using Kaoife's hand luggage as a pillow, along with his own black zipped hoodie over his face to block out the light, Ciaran was trying to sleep away the two hours. Kaoife, on the other hand, was resting on Ciaran's small rucksack, pretending to read her book - Dubliners, James Joyce - while she watched other travellers flitting around the place; some running, some walking, some looking very stressed as they stood still, staring up at all the signs. Every so often she would call quietly to Ciaran, checking if he was still awake. When he replied, he would ask what she was doing - to which she would reply "People-watching." However, in reality she was studying them, as along with culture shock Kaoife realised that she had no idea how to act in America. If she was to stay here for any length of time, she better start adjusting as soon as possible. Terrified, she pretended to turn pages of her book, still staring at those around her.
After a while, Kaoife had grown anxious and uncomfortable, thanks to the hard, cold floor of the airport. Blaming it on tiredness and first-flyer's nerves, Kaoife lied to Ciaran when he noticed she was uneasy. After this he had suggested they visit the small airport chapel, situated not far from their gate and across from a pub.
In the chapel, the smell of wax and fresh wood varnish almost choked Ciaran as he sat amongst the other two travellers in the room while Kaoife knelt in front of the votive, praying quietly over a candle. The pillow beneath her knees was worn and thin, the ground obvious below her. With her eyes closed, she focused on her prayer - one of safety and prosperity - as she slowly turned the vigil light between her fingertips. Once finished, she crossed her chest and sat the candle in the votive, before returning to the pew Ciaran was pretending to pray on. He sat with his eyes shut and head back, hands clasped on his lap as he tried to sleep, his heavy, tired breaths audible to everyone in the room. Kaoife reminded him quietly about getting a drink before the next flight, hoping to wake him up a bit, while she traced the imprinted golden font on the front of the bible now in her hands. Opening his eyes and leaning forward he agreed, stretching his back with a slight crack as he yawned, then standing to leave.
In the American sports bar, they had plenty of drinks, topping up their earlier intake. All around them there was memorabilia from all kinds of sports, much of which Kaoife and Ciaran had no clue about. Neon bar signs light up the walls and televisions hung by the windows, showing three different sports. In a judging ignorance, Kaoife ordered more drinks while they sat at the bar, with nerves slowly climbing their insides. As the time approached to board their flight, they queued silently, alcohol and tiredness causing Kaoife's eyes to sting as she grasped her passport and boarding pass.

After sixteen hours and eleven minutes of travelling, Kaoife and Ciaran finally found themselves on the last leg of their journey. Overwrought and a bit hungover, they remained silent on their shuttle bus, the last remaining of seven passengers who had boarded at Stockton Metropolitan Airport. Staring out at the dark American countryside, Kaoife mourned the lack of greenery but took in the flash of sand coloured dry grass and occasional plant that she would see in the burst of white from the headlights. A chill ran over her, the air-con blowing cool air around the car, forcing her to pull her small hand-luggage rucksack closer to her chest for a bit more warmth. Before long, gas stations that crept up in the darkness became more frequent and every so often there was a diner or a shop, a construction site or a truck stop. Soon, a small pool of light was visible in the distance, the glow reaching into the sky. The shuttle approached a wooden sign, lit up by a small but powerful light angled in front of it. Elbowing Ciaran for his attention, Kaoife's eyes read and reread the words, which echoed in her head - "Welcome to Charming - Population: 14, 679."
"Fourteen thousand, six hundred and eighty one, now." said Ciaran with an exhausted sigh, his Dublin accent thick in his tired voice.
"Crazy," Kaoife replied. "Seventeen hours ago we were leaving Belfast, now we live in Charming." She added, giving an unbelieving laugh.
"Do you even know what the house looks like?" Ciaran asked her.
"Roughly." She answered.
"Do you even have furniture? Where will you sleep? Where will I sleep?" He continued.
"Jesus Christ," Kaoife sighed. "It's already furnished, everything is taken care of." She added. "All we need to do is go shopping tomorrow for essentials and unpack. There isn't much decorating to be done, maybe a paint job at most. I might get new furniture once the bikes arrive."
"What else is being shipped?"
"Just the bikes. Unless you shipped anything?" She asked.
"No." He shook his head and shrugged as the shuttle travelled through the quiet, sleeping town.
"I feel like we should have brought more. Most people who immigrate take more stuff."
"What would we have brought? The cash register from Ashby's? We didn't exactly have all that much to bring." Ciaran joked.
"I suppose." Kaoife agreed with a laugh, while they approached a small residential area. The shuttle slowed as it travelled through the streets, each passing house almost identical to the last.
"So, what one is it?" asked Ciaran. Looking at each one they passed. , Kaoife shook her head.
" I have no idea."
"Well, that's great to hear." He replied.
"This is you just in here, guys." The driver, a small, white haired man, called from the front as he pulled into the right, stopped at the driveway of a house which sat in darkness, a hedge growing from round the side of it. For a moment, they sat in silence and stared at it, both anticipation and nerves engulfing them. "Do you need a hand with luggage?" The old man called.
"No," Kaoife replied, still staring at the house. "We'll be fine." She finished, taking a deep breath and following Ciaran's moves to pick up their cases and bags.

A while later, both Kaoife and Ciaran were still awake, sitting on the couch in the open plan living room and kitchenette. Neither could sleep thanks to the copious hours spent sleeping throughout the day, along with jetlag. Having found a blanket in the airing cupboard, Kaoife wrapped it around her shoulders and silently invited Ciaran to follow her outside to the white, chipped-paint porch. On her way out, Kaoife grabbed her cigarettes, which she had purchased in the duty free in the airport. In the pleasantly cool, American night air, the sat on the wooden porch steps, Kaoife holding her cigarette packet out to Ciaran in offering as she lit her own. Once he had taken one, she handed him her lighter and took a long drag, looking out onto the street.
"Wonder what our neighbours are like." She said, exhaling a large cloud of smoke and watching it curl up into the air.
"I guess we'll have to wait and see." Ciaran replied, looking at a car parked across the street. There was a moment of silence, filled only by the funnels of smoke leaving them. "Are you excited to see him?" Ciaran asked. Sighing, Kaoife replied, looking down at her cigarette as she rolled it between her fingers.
"Yeah," She smiled, taking another drag. "I am. How are you feeling?" To this, Ciaran gave a laugh.
"Scale of one to a hundred? Somewhere in the low nineties."
"That's not too bad."
"Nah." He said, starting to make smoke rings.
"Seriously," Kaoife insisted. "You good?"
"I'm fine - excited even." He persisted. "Do we have a landline?"
"Yeah, it's on the wall by the kitchen."
"I've got to phone a certain number in the morning, let them know I arrived."
"Didn't you pick up a pre-pay when we left the airport?"
"I forgot."
"Of course you did." Kaoife sighed, crushing out the cigarette and blowing out one last billowing funnel of smoke. "We'll buy one tomorrow, then you can call."
"Right." Ciaran sighed heavily. "We should probably at least try to sleep."
"You're right." Kaoife said, looking at her watch. "It's almost two in the morning."
"Fantastic." Ciaran groaned as he walked into the living room. "You can take the bed tonight, I'll crash on the couch."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'll have a look at beds when we go out tomorrow." He explained. "Give me your blanket."
"Is there a please in there somewhere?" She asked, removing the blanket from her shoulders but holding onto it firmly.
"Please, will you give me the fucking blanket?"
"Well, that's a bit better I suppose." She sighed, handing the blanket over to him. "Goodnight." She added, continuing past the couch and down the hall, turning into her bedroom, hearing a muffled grumble of "Goodnight" from the couch.

Equipped with rucksacks and brown paper bags full to the top, Kaoife and Ciaran struggled up the driveway after paying the taxi fare - Ciaran complaining about the tip - and desperately tried not to drop anything. Shopping for the basic essentials had just taken over an hour. However, so did shopping for a bed for Ciaran, as did shopping for everything else that Kaoife spotted for the house.
With a grunt, Ciaran kicked the front door shut and walked over to the small circular table at the edge of the kitchenette and sat down the three bags in his arms. Kaoife had rested her bags on the kitchen counter and was now removing her overflowing rucksack before emptying it.
"What bag are the pre-pays in?" Ciaran asked, beginning to rummage through one of them.
"You're not phoning yet," Kaoife said sternly, unpacking tins of food onto the worktop. "We're sorting all this out first. Then you can phone."
"You know, you're not my mam."
"How would you know?" Kaoife laughed, continuing to unpack. Ciaran raised his brow and nodded.
"Touché."

Sitting on the old, wobbly chair at the kitchen table, Kaoife sat in silence as she watched Ciaran stare at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Beeping from the keypad of the pre-pay in his other hand was the only noise in the room, followed by the rolling up of the piece of paper.
"Here we go." Ciaran sighed, pressing the call button. Watching on, Kaoife took a long drag of her cigarette, trying to work out the feeling in her gut. "Uh, hi there. It's Ciaran - er, Carmichael here. Y'know, the SAMBEL transfer?" There was a moment's pause. Kaoife watched on, awash with anxiety. "Yeah, yeah. Uh-huh, aye." Ciaran said with a small chuckle. "Right, thanks a lot. See ya." He finished, closing the pre-pay and taking a great breath, exhaling slowly. "Holy shit." He laughed, a smile on his face.
"Well? What did they say?" Kaoife asked, perched on the edge of the couch with her hands clasped, tapping her nails against each other. Straightening his back, Ciaran moved back to recline slightly on the couch before answering.
"I've to go to the clubhouse tomorrow afternoon, the guys said someone'll be there to sort me out." He explained, tucking the pre-pay into his jacket pocket.
"Who did you speak to?" Kaoife asked in excitement, just managing to present herself calmly.
"Fuck if I know." Ciaran laughed. "Could have been anyone."
"But what did he sound like?"
"It wasn't him, Kaoif'. I think I would have noticed if it was." He said, eyebrows low as he rolled his eyes at her. "Anyway, that guy sounded pretty young. Were there any young patches in Belfast with 'em?"
"Not that I know. There was one young guy, the one I said had tribal head tattoos. Can't remember his name." She said with a nonchalant wave.
"Here," Ciaran laughed. "It's a good thing those bikes are due to land."
"Why?" Kaoife asked, laughing at Ciaran as he struggled to compose himself.
"Could you imagine me, fuckin' six foot seven, stepping out of a fuckin' taxi to meet the club?" He laughed, leaning his head back and rubbing his eyes.
"Aye, I'm sure that'd be a cracking first impression." Kaoife replied, shaking her head slightly. "Speaking of," She added, waiting for Ciaran to stop giggling. "The bikes should dock around lunchtime or just before, we'll get a taxi to the docks and drive straight to the garage."
"I'll call in the morning and let them know, just in case we're late." Ciaran nodded. "You still got the map we picked up at the shop?"
"It's in my bag, we can have a look at it after dinner." Kaoife said, beginning to yawn.
"What you making?"
"I'm making a phone call, that's what I'm making." She laughed, looking around her now for her new mobile.
"You're getting take away? After all the shopping we just did?" Ciaran moaned.
"Sorry, were you planning on cooking?" She asked.
"Well, no…"
"Exactly." Kaoife said pointedly.
"I'm going for a smoke." He sighed, clapping his hands on his knees and getting to his feet, grabbing his cigarettes from the table in front of Kaoife, who had her new mobile at her ear, calling the number she got from the back of the map they picked up at the supermarket earlier that day for Lin's Chinese. A woman answered and Kaoife recited the order to her, rolling a ball of receipts around the table then picking up her cigarette packet, opening and closing it with her index finger as she waited for the woman to confirm her order.
When she was done, Kaoife hung up and got to her feet, cigarettes in hand and walked out the open front door, from which Ciaran could be seen smoking on the porch, leaning against the wooden support beam that ran down from the roof.

In the morning, once again the bright morning sun streamed through Kaoife's window. Today, however, she lay in a comfortable lull between consciousness and sleep, enveloped between her new, cheap-satin sheets. This was until her bedroom door flew open and met the wall with a loud bang, causing her to jump in fright and scramble into a sitting position. Now, she stared at Ciaran with fire in her veins, furious at the wake up call she never asked for. Until he began to speak.
"The bikes docked early." He said with a beaming smile on his face. "The taxi's on it's way, get up, get dressed, get your arse in gear."
"I'm so conflicted." Kaoife croaked. "I want to kill you," She started, throwing off her duvet and getting to her feet. "But I want to get my bike as quick as I can."
"And I'd quite enjoy that too, so move it." Ciaran said, throwing open her wardrobe, pulling out a random selection of clothes and tossing them in her direction.
"Really?" She moaned, picking them up from the ground as Ciaran swept out of the room.
"Hurry up!" He cried, closing the door behind him. Yawning deeply, followed by a stretch, Kaoife looked out the window through her half-open eyes, looking at the small, slightly overgrown garden behind the house. As she dressed, she kept staring out, seeing the sun hit off of the long, dewy grass, the way it would in the frosty mornings back in Belfast, as well as every time the rain fell. As she sat down to zip her boots, Kaoife laughed, as this was the longest she had gone without seeing rain for as long as she could remember. Now on her feet, she grabbed her phones from the bedside table and walked out into the living room, then into the kitchen where Ciaran was quickly annihilating some toast, handing a piece to Kaoife as she took a can of energy juice from the fridge.
"Do we have time for a smoke before we leave?" She asked.
"Wouldn't think so." Ciaran mumbled over another slice of toast.
"Wonderful." Kaoife groaned, throwing back as much of the energy juice as she could, before the taxi pulled up outside. "Come on," She said after an audible gulp. "Let's go."
"Hold on," Ciaran said hurriedly, moving to grab for something that rested over the back of the kitchen chair. As he unfolded it, Kaoife recognised the kutte immediately.
"You still allowed to wear that?" She asked.
"Aye, I've cut off the Belfast rocker and my flash." He explained. "No point in getting a new kutte entirely, that's what Barkwill said."
"Well, he'll be right then." She said, gesturing to Ciaran to grab his rucksack, which had their helmets secured safely inside, as she lead the way out of the front door, into the ever-brightening sun.
On their journey to the docks, Ciaran chatted happily away to the driver, who didn't seem to appreciate his excited conversation. Meanwhile, Kaoife watched avidly out the dusty window at the streets and shops that passed, trying to pinpoint places as she recognised them. There was the old-style sweet shop - Scoops, the florist, some diners dotted around and a few empty shop fronts, looking dark and dusty at the side of the road.

Almost rattling in anticipation, they watched on as the crewman pulled open the large, metal container door. Flakes of rust chipped off as it scraped across the cement with a loud, metallic creak.
"It's like being on an old game show." Ciaran said, smile wide on his face.
"Just with much better prizes." Kaoife added, raring to retrieve her bike.
"If you guys could ride 'em up to the office so I can sign 'em out - that'd be great." called the crewman from behind them, as they entered into the large container, feet tapping in a small puddle of seawater on the ground with the smell of salt and rust filling their noses.
"We'll bring them up soon." Ciaran called, removing the cover from what he knew was his own bike, due to it being larger than Kaoife's.
"Aye, need to check they're all right to ride first." Kaoife agreed. "Especially with all the seawater in here." She added, pulling the cover from her own bike, smiling at it. This seemed to worry the crewman slightly, as he laughed awkwardly.
"Let us have a look then we'll head up to the office, all right Chief?" Ciaran said, telling him more so than asking.
"Sure. I'll meet you up there." He said, nodding to them both then leaving them, walking behind some more freight and disappearing. Kaoife stroked the handlebar of her bike, the cool metal nipping her fingertips as she admired the familiar, black sheen of the tank, the soft leather seat with it's pleated seam.
"It's like - it's like looking at God." said Ciaran. "Sorry, God. Didn't mean it." He added, crossing his chest.
"Aye, right." Kaoife smirked, rolling the rain cover up and tucking it under her arm. "I can hardly see in here." She added, swinging her leg over the bike slowly before turning back slightly and tucking the bike cover into her saddle bag. "Needs a good clean." She added, wiping a thin layer of grime from her handlebar before swinging it upright and kicking up the stand. Ciaran gave a grunt of agreement as she slowly walked the bike out of the container.
With both bikes finally outside the container, Kaoife and Ciaran had almost finished looking over the bikes, everything seeming to be in good condition. Handing Ciaran's helmet to him, Kaoife looked at the frayed thread sticking out of his kutte.
"Who do you think they picked as the new SA now that you've transferred?"
"The flash went to Geezer. Made sure of it." He answered, accepting his helmet.
"He'll be good." Kaoife agreed, letting her hair down to allow her helmet to sit comfortably on her head, then clipping it under her chin.
"Do you reckon there's a speed limit in here?" Ciaran asked, also putting on his helmet and sitting on his bike.
"Five miles an hour." Kaoife sighed. "Checked when we arrived. No racing today, I'm afraid." She added, to which Ciaran smirked, before moving to start his bike; as did Kaoife. There was a splutter, followed by a low growl, followed then by a series of loud raucous revving.
"Oh, I've missed you!" Ciaran called.
"We're a bit early, will anyone be there?" She called over the engines.
"Should be, the young guy that phoned said he was heading down from SAMDino with another brother but they'd be back around now." He explained.
"Let's not keep them waiting, then." said Kaoife, who then moved away from the still-open container and rode up past more and more crates, a smile on her face as the wind whipped gently at her hair, the noise of their engines echoing through the dockyard, rivalled by the loud horn of a distant ship.

The familiar sting of hair whipping her face - partnered with the rumbling vibrations of the bike that ran through her bones, made Kaoife smile as she and Ciaran rode side by side down the highway. A few times they had come close to making the dreaded mistake of driving on the wrong side of the road, taking a few slow minutes to grow accustomed to the American roads.
Although, reaching over seventy miles an hour, with the wind roaring in her ears, Kaoife noticed an almost rhythmic noise of air being released. With the quickest of glances down, she saw nothing out the ordinary, yet the noise continued. Looking to Ciaran, she tried for his attention, sounding the horn and signalling with her hand. Turning his head, he received her signal and indicated, slowing the bike to pull in by the side of the road. Kaoife followed, pulling up beside him on the sand coloured, gravel roadside. She cut the engine and removed her helmet, hanging it on the handlebar.
"Got a weird sound going on. I need to have a look." She said to Ciaran, who was currently removing his own helmet.
"Right, I'll listen, you rev." He said, getting off his bike and to his feet, before walking over and bending his knees, leaning on Kaoife's bike for balance.
"You're listening for air." She advised.
"Right, start her up." With that, Kaoife started the engine again, revving a few times.
"I'm going to go a few yards, you'll hear it better." She said, slowly releasing the clutch. As she did, the rhythmic air could be heard coming from the bike, quiet but persistent.
"Aye, I hear it." He confirmed, as Kaoife stopped.
"I reckon it's a valve or something." She suggested, cutting the engine again. "I've lost some power, too."
"Could be the muffler." Ciaran said, looking around the bike once more. "I'm sure someone'll sort it for you at TM."
"I could do it myself if I had the tools." She sighed, worried about the rest of the ride.
"I know you could, but you don't." He replied, walking back to his own bike and grabbing his helmet.
"Don't get snippy." She warned. Sighing, Ciaran mounted his bike.
"Sorry, as you can guess, I'm a bit on edge."
"Understandable." Kaoife replied, clipping her helmet. "But don't get snippy." She reiterated, starting up one more time.
Pulling out onto the road, Kaoife revelled in the crunch of the sandy dirt roadside, which was then drowned out by the sound of Ciaran's bike pulling away, small clouds of dust behind his rear wheel. Following suit, she rode along, pulling up by Ciaran's side and looked to what could only be described as a small plain to her left. For miles, little tufts of yellowing grass decorated the ground, dark, reddish mountains noticeable on the horizon. The sun was warm on her thin jacket, the fake, black leather absorbing the heat. Her only solace in the intense heat being the cool wind whipping her hair around behind her.

"Is that it?" Kaoife called out over the engines as the progressed down the small street, an assortment of cars and motorbikes fringing the pavements. Slowing to look at Ciaran, Kaoife saw the slight fear in his eyes, as he slowed beside her.
"Looks like it." He said, voice almost wavering.
"Deep breaths." She advised, giving him a comforting smile. "Come on, one small step for Ciaran, one giant step for - someone else." She laughed with a shrug, joking to try and calm her friend. With that, the pair made their way through the gates, looking around as they entered. To their left was a large grey building, ahead of them, the garage. However, neither paid attention to the buildings. Instead, they searched around for someone wearing a reaper as they pulled up by, what Kaoife assumed, was the clubhouse.
Pulling off her helmet and running her hand over her hair, Kaoife looked around again. A blue door, next to the garage, swung open with some force. A smile ran across Kaoife's face, instantly recognising the woman, perfectly tended black hair framing her face with the blond highlights soft by her complexion.
"Jesus Christ," Kaoife said with a smile, leaving her bike and resting her helmet on the seat. "Ci', get up." She said, urgently. Following suit, Ciaran looked at her, confused at the reaction she gave.
"Who is it?" He whispered to her as he turned away to sit his helmet on the bike. By this time, the woman had advanced towards Kaoife, a smile of recognition soft on her aged but attractive face as she approached them.
"Gemma," Kaoife said happily, outstretching her arms to embrace the woman. "It's good to see you."
"It's good to see you, too, Sweetheart. Bit of a surprise, but good." She smiled, sorting a strand of Kaoife's, currently wind-battered, hair. "You the transfer?" Gemma asked, now looking to Ciaran as Kaoife stepped back from her.
"Yes ma'am." He nodded courteously. "Ciaran - Carmichael." He said, adding the last word quickly.
"Gemma's fine, Juice and Rat are in the clubhouse." She replied pointedly, regarding the grey building they had passed on their way in.
"Right, thanks ma-" Ciaran began, then quickly corrected himself. "Gemma." He smiled.
"Gem'," Kaoife said, bringing her hands together and tapping her nails on top of each other. Looking down at her, Gemma smiled warmly, as Ciaran watched nervously. "Is Filip here?" She asked, excitement starting to build, down inside her.
"He's with the guys." She almost sighed. "Club shit."
"Ah, I see. That's fine, will they be back soon?"
"I don't know, darlin'. Does he know you're here?" Gemma asked, crossing her arms.
"It's a surprise." She replied, to which Ciaran gave an interrupting laugh.
"Sorry." He said, excusing himself slightly.
"Hey," Gemma started. "How come I never met you in Belfast?" She asked him, looking up as he towered over both of them.
"I was - I was in prison, actually." He answered, pursing his lips into a thin line, nervously.
"Right. Well, like I said, Juice and Rat are inside, let's go." Gemma said, holding her hand out in the direction of the clubhouse. Walking ahead, Ciaran stuffed his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans.
"What are you doing here, Sweetheart?" Gemma asked Kaoife solemnly, putting an arm around her shoulders as they walked. Sighing and relaxing in the comfort of the half-embrace, Kaoife answered.
"Just - just needed a change, Gem'."
"Well, it's no picnic here these days. We got our own shit going on."
"I just want to see Fil'." Kaoife added, almost desperately. "I couldn't stay there anymore." Fighting her hardest not to get upset, she took Gemma's hand, which rested off of her shoulder. "And of course, I missed you too much." Kaoife joked.
"Yeah, yeah. Get in there." Gemma said, amused as she removed her arm from Kaoife's shoulders and ushered her into the clubhouse, after Ciaran.
Stepping into the clubhouse, it took Kaoife's eyes a moment to adjust. Panelled with dark wood and black paint, it was dark but well lit will low hanging lights positioned over the pool table and an assortment of tables and chairs near the bar. The bar itself was adorned with an assortment of ales and hard liquors, a few bottles of vodka dotted around the shelves. There was a thick smell of cigarettes and what Kaoife could swear was cigars, making her nose sting slightly.
"Rat! Juice!" Gemma called, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps from a corridor by the bar, just heard over the sound of the heavy music playing behind the pool table. In a few seconds, two men, close to Ciaran's age, stood by the bar wearing kuttes. One Kaoife recognized from the week SAMCRO travelled to Belfast a few years ago, during the hassle with Jimmy O'. His hair was the same, short Mohawk down the middle of his head, tribal tattoos at either side of it. Juice was his name., his face was bruised and a little bloody, freshly beaten. The other Kaoife didn't recognise. With messy hair and skinny features, almost hidden by a scruffy goatee, he stood just taller than Juice.
"What's up, Gem?" Juice asked, shoulders drooped slightly as he awaited a reply.
"SAMBEL transfer." She said bluntly, gesturing to Ciaran, who stood with his hands in his kutte pockets and standing straight, trying to appear nonplussed.
"All right," Juice nodded to Gemma, then looked to Ciaran. "What's your name?"
"Ciaran." He piped up, removing one hand from his pocket and stepping forward to shake Juice's hand. Returning the gesture, Juice smiled.
"Nice to meet you, Brother. I'm Juice, this is Ratboy." He explained, gesturing to the other boy, who Ciaran now shook hands with.
"I spoke to you on the phone." Ciaran reminded Ratboy.
"Yeah." Rat nodded. "Jax and the guys won't be back for a while, feel free to grab a beer or whatever." He added.
"Right, cheers Brother." Ciaran agreed, stepping back and moving to the bar beside him as Rat and Juice made to walk away. Seeing an opportunity, Kaoife jumped forward slightly.
"Hi, I'm Kaoife, don't know if you'll remember me, Juice." She said, stepping in front of Gemma slightly. A spark of recognition lit on Juice's face.
"Kaoife, yeah I remember you." He smiled. "What're you doing out here? This you're old man?" He asked, pointing to Ciaran. To this, Kaoife could only laugh.
"No, just friends." She said. "I was wondering if there's anyone that can take a look at my bike?" She asked.
"What's up with it?" Rat asked.
"I think there's something wrong with one of the valves. Muffler's loose, too." Kaoife explained.
"I'll come have a look." Rat offered, moving away from Juice and towards Kaoife.
"Thanks." She said, gratefully, now turning to make her way outside again. "It shouldn't take long." She added, making her way along the small black threshold, taking in the words "Fear the Reaper" above the door. With Kaoife a few paces ahead, she and Ratboy stepped out into the sunlight.
For a while, Kaoife and Rat conversed about the bike, Kaoife explaining how she bought it with some inheritance from her dad and money from selling her old bike. The Indian, however, now resided in the garage, where Kaoife stood by as Rat conversed with one of the men working in there, explaining to him what needed done to the bike. As Kaoife finished a cigarette, crushing it out in the small glass ashtray on the work bench, she looked at Rat.
"Do you know when the guys will be back?" She asked as she expelled a cloud of smoke, trying to appear casual. Rat shrugged and shook his head.
"No idea, sorry." He said. At that moment, Ciaran's voice was heard, calling over the lot to Kaoife. Her head whipped round to see him beckoning her back towards the clubhouse. Her stomach dropped slightly at the urgency in his voice, her first thoughts being of Filip. With a worried glance to Rat who followed her as she started towards the clubhouse, her hair bouncing slightly behind her as she increased her pace.
Inside, she looked over the bar to see Gemma standing hunched as she supported a smaller blonde girl by the waist. She was badly bruised and cut all over.
"What's happened?" Kaoife asked, looking at Ciaran, who now presided by on a stool by the girls. Juice, who was holding a first aid kit behind the bar, looked at her desperately.
"Lyla needs help, Ciaran said you're a nurse." He explained, sitting the first aid kit on the bar top. Kaoife inwardly cursed Ciaran as she nodded and stepped to the bar, taking the first aid kit.
"Tara already stitched me up and I've got a few bandages on, but I think my stitches have burst." The blonde girl, Lyla, explained. Kaoife nodded, walking towards Gemma and Lyla.
"Alright, let's get you somewhere private. I'm assuming there's a room we can go to?" Kaoife asked Gemma, who almost smirked.
"I'm sure we'll find one."

In a room of the clubhouse, Kaoife - sat needle in hand, tending to the burst stitches on Lyla's leg. Her injuries were so deep and violent, Kaoife couldn't imagine the pain she was in. Lyla would wince every so often, even though Kaoife had used a local anaesthetic before stitching. It had been left by Jax's wife, Tara, who was a doctor at the local hospital - which Juice informed Kaoife of when she noticed the medical tools left in the room.
"Sorry to ask," Kaoife began furtively. "But, what happened?" She looked up to Lyla's face, bruised and swollen. "You - don't have to answer." She added quietly, as an afterthought. There was a heavy silence, before Lyla's shaking voice started.
"I - I'm a porn star." She began, Kaoife fighting the instinct of raising her eyebrows in shock. "I was offered some work, some shady, low budget stuff, but I needed money." Lyla sighed, wincing as Kaoife finished the stitches. She felt a wash of sympathy, with a pain in her gut. "It was torture porn." She said, with a small, choked laugh.
"Shit," Kaoife breathed, horror evident on her face. "I'm sorry." The two sat in silence as Kaoife wiped blood from her hands, picking at the fraying edges of the cloth.
"Don't be." She sighed, wiping her eyes delicately, followed by another short silence. "So, the big guy - he your old man?" She asked, looking down at Kaoife as she wiped the smudged blood from Lyla's legs.
"No," Kaoife laughed quietly.
"You guys came from Belfast?"
"Yeah, I'm originally from Glasgow, he's from Dublin." Kaoife replied, patting a dry cloth over Lyla's legs. "Actually," She added, thinking hard for a moment. "I'm good friends with his dad." She finished, inwardly laughing.
"Yeah? Who's his dad?" Lyla asked, confused.
"That's another story." Kaoife said, airily. "We're all done here." Kaoife smiled, regarding Lyla's legs.
"Really?" Lyla asked, surprised as she looked down at her fresh stitches. "Thanks." She smiled weakly. "Sorry for this." She said quietly after. Shaking her head, Kaoife rolled her eyes.
"Don't worry about it." She said happily. "If you need me I'll be at the bar. Or I can sit here with you, if you'd prefer company." Kaoife offered, aware that the girl would be feeling on edge.
"It's fine, thanks." She declined, adjusting herself on the bed where she rested, wincing quietly. "I'm just going to get some rest."
"Right, 'course. I'll come check on you in an hour or so." She said kindly, getting to her feet from the chair which had been positioned beside the bed.
"Thanks,-" Lyla trailed off, unsure of to whom she was speaking.
"Oh, right - Kaoife." She laughed, forgetting that she hadn't properly introduced herself.
"Thanks, Kaoife." Lyla finished with a tired, weak smile. With that, Kaoife quietly made her way out of the room, walking down the corridor to the bar. Passing the old blue Model K on display in the corridor, she admired it for a moment, before turning back into the bar.
Walking out of the hallway, Kaoife noticed another person at the bar, that of an older man with a tired face but large, dark eyes. He spoke quietly with Gemma, both conversing in hushed tones, away from Ciaran, Juice and Ratboy, who resided now by the pool table. The caustic break, beginning the game, rang through the clubhouse, as both Rat and Ciaran watched carefully, following the diffusion of the balls in hope. Kaoife watched on as Rat groaned, standing back and allowing Ciaran to play. As the switched positions, Kaoife noticed Juice, sitting on a couch behind the pool table, watching blankly with a melancholy stare. Walking over, she moved carefully around the table so as to not interrupt the game, taking a seat on the couch with Juice, leaving a comfortable distance between them.
"Hey," She began, trying to catch his attention. As he looked up, he plastered a smile on his face and looked over to her.
"Hey." He now beamed, sitting up straight and adjusting his kutte.
"So, how have you been?" Kaoife asked, almost laughing. "Been a while." She added, trying not to stare at his beaten face.
"Y'know, ramblin' on down the road." He smiled, but Kaoife noticed the sadness behind it.
"Must be some road, was there an accident?" She joked, regarding his bruises. To this, Juice laughed honestly, shaking his head.
"Just a scuffle." He said airily.
"How does the other guy look?" Kaoife asked, tucking her legs beneath her and making herself comfortable.
"He'll live." Juice joked, as the sadness returned to his eyes. Noticing this, Kaoife decided not to press on it, instead now watching Rat and Ciaran's game of pool.

---

Sitting on a bench outside, under the protruding roof of the clubhouse, Kaoife looked up at the orange sky, staring at the smooth sheeted clouds above the garage. It was late but still warm, Kaoife was fascinated by the thought of not having to wear multiple layers so late at night. The air was cool against her pale skin as she smoked a joint, pre-rolled by Juice, reflecting on her journey. She tried and tried to understand fully that this was her home now, but failed. After only two days in the states, she had fully moved into her new house, administer her skills as a nurse to help a porn star and found someone to fix her bike. Looking over to the garage, she saw it, red paint just visible in the growing darkness. Still trying to fathom it all, she shook her head. Taking a long drag of the joint, she closed her eyes. Then, hearing footsteps behind her, she opened them quickly and turned, seeing Lyla in the doorway of the clubhouse.
"Hey, you okay?" Kaoife asked her, moving from the benchtop to the seat, making a space for Lyla.
"Just needed some fresh air." She smiled weakly. "Can I-?" She asked, pointing to the joint in Kaoife's hand.
"Oh, shit - sure." She said, handing it to her quickly, feeling guilty for not offering first.
"Thanks." Lyla said, taking a seat by Kaoife's side. "You seem - divided." She added, exhaling a large, billowing cloud. Kaoife nodded slowly.
"I guess I am."
"Homesick?"
"Not sure if I'd call it that." She said. "Just, kind of daunting. Not being there."
"Hmm." Sitting quietly, the girls stared across the lot, Lyla passing the joint back to Kaoife. Looking at the airstream over by the tall fence, Kaoife pointed at it.
"The old guy," She started. "What's his name again?"
"Unser." said Lyla. "He was the Chief of Police in Charming for years."
"You're kidding?" Kaoife laughed. "The Chief of Police living in the lot of an outlaw MC's garage?"
"From what I know, he was a good friend of the club during his time."
"On the take?" Kaoife asked.
"Not so much, but they helped each other out. He and Gem' have been friends since they were kids."
"I see." Kaoife nodded.
"He's a great guy. Harmless, and he'll do whatever he can for anyone."
"That's nice." Kaoife said, half-smiling. Once again they were left in silence, but Kaoife's wasn't bothered. She sat comfortably on the bench, relaxed in the cool, heavy night air. The lot was darkening, the sun faded away almost completely. It was harder to see things unaided by the broken flood light in the corner of the lot. A bright light above them blinked on, flickering a few times, followed by a monotonous buzz. Kaoife screwed up her eyes slightly as she tried to adjust to the brightness, passing the remainder of the joint to Lyla then rubbing her eyes. Just then, in the swirling darkness of her closed eyes, Kaoife heard the rumble of an engine making it's way along the street. Heart skipping, she moved her hands from her eyes and perked up, straightening her back and waiting for the bike to drive up to the clubhouse. For a moment, the headlight blinded her view as it drove past, driving to the end of the line of bikes. With her heart thumping, Kaoife found herself stuck to the bench. Prying herself away, she stood and took a few steps out of the light, trying desperately to see if it was him. The engine cut and the footsteps followed, she saw the small flame of a lighter and then the glow of a cigarette a few meters away. As he got closer, Kaoife saw the outline of his face, thinner than the last time she had seen him, but him nonetheless. With a wide smile growing across her face, she took a few more breathless steps forward, stopping a meter or so in from of him.
His eyes widened as he stopped in his tracks.
"K-Kaoife?" He stuttered, mouth falling open slightly. Looking her up and down, he shook his head.
"Hiya Fil'." She beamed, overwhelmed to see finally see him. At once, they closed the space between them, holding each other tightly for a brief moment, before Chibs took her by the arms and looked at her.
"What the hell are you doing here?" He said, exasperated as he began to smile, chuckling quietly in disbelief. "God, you're a sight for sore eyes." He said, embracing her again.
"Belfast's too small for me." She joked, resting her hands on the sleeves of his leather jacket, when something caught her eye. "What's this?!" She beamed, looking at the white flash on the breast of his kutte. "VP? You made VP?" She called. He stepped back slightly, adjusting his kutte with a coy smile.
"Aye," He said, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Just a few weeks ago. Jesus Christ, I can't believe you're here." He smiled, putting his arm over her shoulder and heading over to the bench, where Lyla stood, surprised but smiling. "Alright darlin'?" He asked Lyla. "How you feelin'?"
"Bit better. Kaoife had to re-stitch me but I'm getting there." She smiled.
"I heard the transfer arrived today, too." Chibs said as they began to walk into the clubhouse. With that, a small panic creeped back into Kaoife's chest.
"Yeah, I travelled with him. Friend of mine, actually." She said, heart beating quickly.
"Aye?" He said, letting his arm fall from her shoulders as they walked inside.
Entering, Kaoife coughed loudly, trying to grab Ciaran's attention before anyone else noticed them. He looked up and immediately his face fell. As Juice and Rat clocked him, there was nothing else Kaoife could do but let them get acquainted.
"Do you want a beer?" She asked Chibs, searching his face for any sign of recognition.
"Aye, please darlin'." He said, smoking the rest of his cigarette and crushing it out as he approached the others.
"I'm going to bed-" Lyla started, but Kaoife cut her of, reaching for her forearm gently.
"You're going to want to see this." She said carefully.
"Wha-"
"This is Ciaran." Juice said, nodding towards the taller man. Taking deep breaths, Ciaran kept his stance strong.
"Nice to meet you, brother." Chibs said, taking his hand and firmly shaking it, before leaning in and patting his back.
"You too - brother." He said.
"Belfast boy?" Chibs asked, taking a seat now. The others followed suit.
"Grew up in Dublin, moved to Belfast a few years back." Ciaran replied, leaning back steadily.
"Dublin?" He quizzed. "What's your second name?" There was a pregnant pause. Kaoife approached the table, sitting fresh beer in front of them, looking around furtively, then to Ciaran, nodding.
"Actually -" He began with shaking breath. "My name is Ciaran Telford." The silence of the clubhouse was deafening. "And you're my dad."

---

The doors to the meeting room had been closed for almost two hours. The initial shock had yet to fade as Kaoife lit up another cigarette. Juice, Rat and Lyla sat quietly at the table, still in shock.
"How do you think it's going?" Rat piped up, not looking up from the empty beer bottle in his hands.
"I'd say pretty well." Kaoife admitted. "There's been no screaming." To this, Lyla gave a small laugh.
"They've been in there a while." Juice said. "Should we check on them?"
"They'll be fine. Give them their time." Kaoife advised.
"I just - he has a son." said Rat, uncomfortably.
"He has a daughter, too." Juice said.
"Aye, but he knew about her." Kaoife interjected. At that moment, the meeting room doors opened. Chibs stood in the doorway for a second, looking into Kaoife's eyes, before making his way to the bar. Ciaran exited the room, approaching the table.
"I'm going to head home." He said blankly, blinking a few times. His eyes were red. "Are you coming?" He asked her.
"I want to talk to her." Chibs called from the bar, not once looking away from the small glass in his hands, which he almost filled with whisky. Kaoife's stomach dropped at his words and she took a deep breath, cursing inwardly. "I'll give you a ride home later." He added.
"Right," Kaoife nodded. "Thanks."
"I'll see you at the house." Ciaran said, colour drained from his face. "Nice to meet you boys. See you later, darlin'." He said to the others, before looking to the bar, where Chibs sat with his back to them. "See you in the morning." He said to his back.
"Be here early." Chibs said pointedly, then took another mouthful. Ciaran made his way out of the clubhouse, leaving it in silence.
Sitting in the meeting room, Kaoife felt more than uncomfortable standing in the corner of the room, watching Chibs as he closed the doors over. Her eyes met his as he turned to face her. His face was taut with anger, biting into his bottom lip as if to stop himself saying something horrid.
"Fil'-"
"No." He said sternly. "No, you can't "Fil'" me right now. How long have you known?" He demanded, eyes baring into her own. Tears threatened by stinging her eyelids, scared by his temper.
"About five years." She said, looking to the ground as she sniffed heavily, collecting herself then meeting his eyes once again.
"Five fucking years. You decided to wait and tell me now?" He growled.
"It wasn't my choice!" She called, quickly. "I wanted to tell you in Belfast, I did, but it wasn't right!"
"Jesus Christ, Kaoife!" He cried, anger flaring as he stepped towards her "Five years! You had plenty of chances other than when I was in Belfast!"
"I couldn't exactly tell you over the phone!" She cried, fist tensed.
"I would have come back." He said, falling back slightly. "I would have gone back if you'd told me."
"And what would I say?" She asked, breathless. "Hi Fil', your illegitimate child just patched into SAMBEL. Hope the weather's nice."
"Kaoife," He said, pulling out a chair and sitting down, running a hand over his hair and sighing deeply. "You're my best friend outside this club. It doesn't matter what you would have said, just as long as you said something." He pleaded. Kaoife took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, letting her head fall back as she closed her eyes. Blinking a few times, she looked back at Chibs as he sat at the table. Walking towards him, she kneeled down, taking his hands in hers.
"I'm sorry, Filip." She said solemnly. "I missed you, a lot. But this wasn't up to me."
"I know." He said, voice cracking. "I know, I'm sorry." He repeated. "I missed you too, kid." He added, taking one hand from her grasp and positioning it on her head, kissing the top of her head lightly. "On you go, I'll be out in a minute." He said, letting go of her.
Getting to her feet, Kaoife made her way out of the meeting room and back into the bar, where Lyla and Rat sat quietly, watching her carefully. She gave them an eased smile to reassure them, positive that they had heard the previous shouting match.
"You missed a call." Rat said, pointing to her phone on the table. Walking over, Kaoife picked it up, flipping it open.
"It'll be Ciaran," She said nonchalantly, calling him. "He probably doesn't know how to- hello?" She said, focusing on the voice at the other end.
"Aye, listen -" Ciaran started, his voice frantic. "One of us left the door open." He explained.
"What?" She asked quickly. "Who was out last?"
"I don't know, it doesn't matter." He groaned. "Someone's been in here, the place is a bit of a mess but as far as I can see nothing is missing."
"Right," Kaoife said slowly, pinching her nose and sighing heavily. "So, what do we do?" Phoning the police was out of the question. They had both learned that keeping off their radar was the best solution to any problem.
"Ask if it's alright for you to stay at the clubhouse tonight, I'll stay here and see if they come back."
"Right, will I ask anyone to go to the house?" Kaoife offered.
"No, I'll be fine. I'll call you in the morning."
"Right, see you."
"Bye."
As she hung up, Chibs exited the meeting room, walking over to the bar to put his glass in the sink.
"Everything okay?" He asked.
"Is, er, is there another room here?" She asked, looking back towards the hallway.
"Aye, plenty of them." He said, confused at her question. "Why?"
"It's just, someone got into the house." She sighed. "One of us left the door open this morning."
"They take anything?" Chibs asked, focused.
"No, just made a mess. Ciaran is waiting to see if they come back." She explained.
"I see." He nodded. "He need anyone else?"
"No, he's fine."
"Right, Lyla will see you to a room. I'm heading home, I'll see you in the morning." He said, patting her back lightly before heading for the door of the clubhouse. "Bye!" He called to Rat and Lyla, as Kaoife walked back over to their table. Rat gave a silent wave as Lyla called back.
"Can someone show me what room I can sleep in? Someone got into the house and made a mess so Ciaran's staying himself." Kaoife explained.
"I'm just going back to bed, I'll take you." Lyla offered. "Goodnight." She said to Rat as she got to her feet.
"'Night." said Kaoife, to which Rat nodded. The girls made their way back to the small apartments, walking past the blue model K once again.
"In here." Lyla smiled, after making their way further down the hallway. "There are spare clothes in the drawers. And don't worry, the sheets are clean." She laughed. Kaoife smirked and entered the room, set out much like the one Lyla was staying in. Large drawers at either side of the room, windows behind the bed on the diagonal ceiling and a bedside cabinet on each side of the bed.
"Thanks, I'll see you in the morning." Kaoife smiled generously.
"The guys will probably be here early, and the Crow-eaters. They might wake you with the cleaning." Lyla explained.
"You know a lot about this place, I'm assuming you're an old lady?" Kaoife asked her, looking to her injured hands for any sign of a ring.
"I was." She said, with a sad, fallen smile. Kaoife felt the weight in her stomach as she nodded.
"Sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Lyla replied softly. "Goodnight."
"Night." Kaoife answered as Lyla shut the door behind her, leaving Kaoife alone too look around the room. Posters and banners flooded the walls, SAMCRO flyers and artwork above the dresser, as well as naked and half-naked busty blondes on bikes dotted around the room.
Standing by the drawers, she rifled through for a shirt to sleep in, finally finding a soft white shirt with a reaper on the front.
Changing quickly she folded her clothes and sat them on the dresser neatly, before peeling back the duvet, being sure to double-check the sheets, then climbing into the bed and getting comfortable. The mattress was well used but comfortable and there was a soft glow from a nearby streetlamp streaming in the window. For the first time in countless months, Kaoife found herself falling asleep without struggle. All the anxiety she had felt seemed to be melting away as she lay there, dripping off of the bed and trickling out of the door, leaving her relaxed in the silent room, drowsily taking in the posters and the embellishments, smiling to herself. She had nothing more to worry about - she had now seen Chibs' reaction to his long-lost illegitimate son. She and Ciaran were beginning to settle in to Charming. She had even made a friend in Lyla. Considering this all, she thought of Belfast. The wet, shining pavements seemed so distant to her, but she didn't miss them, nor the bleak skies reflected in them.