Title: Daughter of Anarchy
Category: Smallville/Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Drama/Romance
Ship: Jax Teller/Chloe Sullivan
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Overall Rating: Explicit/NC-17
Word Count: 7,526
Warning(s): Strong Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Violence, Attempted Sexual Assault
Summary: 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.

Daughter of Anarchy
-Novel-

Part One.

July 29, 1979

Moira Carter was exhausted. After sixteen hours of intense labor, she could hardly keep her eyes open. It was worth it though, even if the tiny bundle of joy was not made from the best of circumstances. A part of her couldn't help but wonder if she would have moved to Charming had she known that she would end up here just one year later. Her newborn baby was hardly an hour old and she was already wondering if she was worth it.

Moira was young, just twenty-three, and she honestly hadn't expected to be having a baby, let alone with a married man fifteen years her senior. But it had happened. Thanks to a night of drinking and stress relief; she'd gotten herself tangled up with the wrong man at the wrong time. And now what did she have to show for it? A poor excuse for a job in a small, judgmental town, with a baby who would need a lot more than she could provide. Not for the first time since she found out she was pregnant, she seriously considered putting her daughter up for adoption. Not because she didn't love her or want her, but because she just didn't think she could give her what she needed.

But then, like a prayer answered by God, or, probably more likely, the devil, she heard the familiar clomp of boots coming down the hallway toward her hospital room.

Even knowing how strained the situation was, it didn't stop Moira from rolling her eyes, her lip curled in a sneer, as she demanded, "What are you doing here?"

Piermont Winston, better known as Piney, didn't even offer a flinch. "Got a call at the club, said you went into labor…" He cast his eyes around until they fell on the hospital-issue bassinet. His every footstep echoed as he made his way toward it. A tiny baby, wrapped in a pink blanket, her skin a bright, mottled red, stared up at him, her lips puckered. She didn't show any signs of her parents yet, no distinct features that set her apart as his or Moira's daughter, but she was beautiful.

"What'd you name her?"

It took a minute for Moira to put her anger aside and answer him; it was no secret that she hated every second spent in his presence. But, looking on at the bassinet, where Piney's hand had disappeared inside to trace the soft cheek of their daughter, she relaxed slightly. Maybe it was the obvious affection he showed, something she could definitely relate to, that encouraged her to answer him plainly rather than offer up a sharp-tongued barb. "Chloe."

Piney noticed the little information card then, stuck to the side of the bassinet, and read it through. He nodded agreeably at her middle name, "Anne," and smiled at her birth weight of 8 pounds, 7 ounces. For as tiny as she looked, she was healthy. A year and a half earlier, he was standing in a room just like this, only it was his wife Mary in the bed, not Moira, a woman he'd had an affair with nine months ago, drunk on too much whiskey and dumber than usual. He knocked her up in the process and neither Mary nor Moira saw fit to forgive him for it.

Mary was at home now, taking care of their son Harry; no doubt she knew where Piney was and he'd be hearing about it later. While he and Moira were a one-night mistake, she was the mother of his daughter, and Piney didn't turn his back on his kids, born out of his marriage or not. So Chloe would always have her dad in her life, no matter who wanted different. He smiled down at his little girl and promised her the world.


August 19, 1979

The club was loud with shouting, laughter, and music; it only made Piney smile wider as he approached. He passed by the long line of shiny Harley's and climbed the dusty steps to the porch outside the clubhouse, pausing just outside the thick, wood door, the noise inside reverberating against it. Much as it sounded like chaos was reining supreme inside, he felt the nostalgic sense of home that always hit him when he returned to the club.

Turning his head down, he peered at the small bundle he held. His daughter lay in the crook of his arm, a black tuque on her head with a white reaper stitched across it. Her tiny fingers squeezed at air, like she was trying to find something and hold on with all her might. He offered her a finger and she latched onto it, her tiny fingers curling just above one of his silver rings.

This was the first time since Chloe was born that Moira let him take her out; she'd been keeping the baby at home with her since she left the hospital and she wasn't too keen on him having any rights at all, let alone an hour or two to show his daughter off. But here he was, and it was probably only because Moira was dead tired. She didn't have any family in Charming, having only moved over a year earlier. Piney counted his blessings and took what he could get, convincing Moira to take a nap while he watched the squirt.

"You ready to meet the boys?" he asked, looking down at his curious, wiggly daughter.

She opened her mouth in a wide 'O' and then closed it abruptly; he took that as a resounding yes.

Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he backed his way inside. The music so loud he couldn't hear himself think. Some of the boys were playing pool, a few were entertaining some eager women, but the majority were just hanging out, drinking beer, trading conversation. Piney crossed the floor until he was in clear view of everyone and gave a long, sharp whistle to draw their attention. Seeing what was happening, Tig reached over to turn off the music.

Quieting down, the boys turned to him expectantly.

"I wanna introduce you assholes to the next Winston…" He pointed down at the baby in his arm with his thumb. "This here's Chloe."

Loud cheering went up and the men all crowded around to see her.

Rather than get disturbed by the loud noises, the cloying smells, and the unfamiliar faces, Chloe merely looked around at them all curiously.

One of his oldest and closest friends, a fellow founder and the president of SAMCRO, John Teller came up next to him then, clapping Piney on the back as he smiled down at the little girl. Having just had a son of his own, Jackson, a little over a year back, he understood the pride that came with it. "She's a cute one, Pine. You didn't do half-bad."

"Yeah, she'll be a heartbreaker," he mused.

As he passed her around to his closest friends, his brothers in arms, he knew he was right. As soon as Chloe was brought into the club house, the men of SAMCRO fell in love with her. Maybe it was the fact that she was the only innocent one of out of the lot, or that she was still full of so much potential; whatever the reason, she was a daughter of SAMCRO and she always would be.


December 2, 1979

"There's my princess," Tig greeted, kneeling down in front of the baby carrier, where Chloe laid quietly, Lenny close by to keep an eye on her while Piney talked shop with John.

"Look what Uncle Tig brought you, huh?" He held up a tiny denim vest for her. "We'll get you a patch, nice reaper on the back, right? You'll fit right in."

Chloe sucked on her fingers while her other hand reached out for him, squeezing at random.

Chuckling, he brought the vest closer for her, letting her grab it, touching the fabric curiously.

"Where the hell'd you get one that small?" Lenny wondered, taking a seat on a chair beside them.

"I got connections." Tig shrugged. "Know some people, got a sweat shop a few counties over… They'll make anything."

Lenny snorted. "Just what the kid needs… a vest on her back by slaves you probably paid with the change in your pocket."

Clicking his tongue, he dismissed Lenny and turned the vest around so he could see the back. "What d'you think? We could have DAMCRO written on the back, right? She'll be the first Daughter of Anarchy." He grinned.

Chloe kicked her feet and let out a happy shriek.

"See? She likes it!"

Lenny rolled his eyes. "She's four months old. She laughs at everything. See? Watch!" Digging out his keys, he dangled them in front of the baby, who followed them with her eyes, smacking her lips and drooling.

Tig frowned at him and stood up. "Not the same. She likes the cut." He nodded, his brow furrowed. As he wandered off with it, Lenny looked back at Chloe, crossing his thickly muscled arms over his chest.

"Congratulations kid, you'll be in the MC before any of our prospects."

She let out a loud, happy laugh, and he grinned back at her.


May 12, 1980

"What the hell is this?" Piney demanded, waving the thick papers he'd been served not a half hour ago in Moira's face.

She leaned back against the park bench and scowled at him. "A petition to change Chloe's name, what does it look like?"

Grinding his teeth, he shouted back, "Bullshit you're changing her name!" He stabbed a finger toward the 9 month old baby, who was currently in and out of sleep, her eyes drowsily trying to close, only to fly open a second later as she cast her green eyes around curiously. "That girl's a Winston. I don't care if you found yourself a husband. That guy ain't my daughter's daddy!"

"Well, he's going to be," she yelled back. "Chloe needs a good man in her life, a real father figure, not some biker idiot I can't guarantee will be around to see her grow up." Standing from the bench, she gripped the stroller handlebar and pushed the papers at Piney. "I'll go through the courts if I have to, but I don't think you want that kind of attention." Her hard stare cut into him. "Chloe will be a Sullivan, just like me and just like Gabe. I don't care what you want." She started pushing the stroller away, calling over her shoulder, "Sign the papers, Piney!"

Growling under his breath, he balled them up and threw them as far as he could, cursing under his breath before he stomped off toward where he'd left his bike parked.

He would sign, eventually, because Moira was right, he couldn't have anybody looking into his life or history and especially not at SAMCRO, which is exactly what she would tell them to do. It didn't matter what Chloe's last name was, everybody knew she was his. She'd always be a Winston at heart.


January 9, 1983

"I don't want her here," Mary argued, slamming the cupboards as she moved around her kitchen.

"She's three years old, Mar; she doesn't even know why you hate her. She wants to be here for Harry's birthday and she should be," Piney argued.

"If she's young enough not to know why I don't want her here, she's young enough to forget I told her not to come," she spat back angrily.

"Harry wants her here," he reminded. "He loves his little sister, you know that."

Mary stopped, bracing her hands on the counter as a pot of spaghetti sauce steamed away at her right. Finally, turning to glare at him, she yelled, "I don't want your bastard kid at our son's birthday party. I don't care how much he loves her! It's disrespectful Piney, and I won't have it in my home!"

He ground his teeth and took a few steps toward her, scowling when she cringed, pushing herself back against the counter, unsure of his anger. Waving a finger in her face, he said, "Chloe's coming to the party tomorrow. Harry wants her there, I want her there, so she's coming… And don't call her a bastard again, Mary." His eyes flashed angrily. "You wanna hate someone, you hate me, but you don't take it out on her." As he turned to leave, he muttered, "She three goddamn years old for Christ's sake."

Chloe was allowed to come to the birthday party and, even Mary had to admit, it was cute to see her five year old son walk around holding Chloe's hand the entire party, proudly introducing her to everyone he saw.


August 15, 1983

The earliest memory Chloe had was from when she was four years old. The other things, the years before that, were fragments and feelings, nostalgia from smells but no idea why. But when she was four, a memory formed that she never forgot.

She was eating a Popsicle, the warm California sun beating down on her. She'd traded in the pink dress her mother had put out for her to wear for her favorite neon yellow shorts and a striped, green t-shirt with a cartoon duck on the front. The sound of power tools was loud, but it didn't frighten her any. She was used to the sights, smells, and sounds of Teller-Morrow Auto. Currently, her only point of focus was the shiny motorcycle in front of her. Sitting on an overturned plastic milk crate, she observed the way the sun hit the turquoise gas tank.

It was John Teller's bike she was admiring, leaning heavy against the side stand, much of the silver polished nice and bright. She liked the color Uncle JT's was; her dad's was just plain black and silver.

"Dad said, when I'm older, he'll let me drive it," came a familiar voice.

Chloe turned, blinking against the sharp sun and found Jackson, JT's son, not far away. He walked over, his own orange Popsicle half eaten, his fingers sticky with the melted juice, and took a seat on the ground next to her. He rested an elbow on the extra space of milk crate and eyed his father's bike appreciatively.

"One day, I'm gonna be just like my dad," he told her reverently. "I'm gonna be SAMCRO and I'm gonna have the best bike and I'll get all the patches for my cut, too."

Chloe rested her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee, and looked down at him thoughtfully.

Jackson was grinning lopsidedly, an orange ring stain around his lips, and his blond hair tangled around his shoulders. He was what her mom always called a wild child, but Chloe thought he just liked to have fun.

"Are you gonna run the club like JT too?" she wondered.

He shrugged. "I dunno… Doesn't matter." He looked up at her, one of his eyes closed against the sun. "We're all brothers, right?"

She tipped her head thoughtfully. "Is Harry gonna be SAMCRO?"

He nodded happily. "We're gonna be friends forever. We'll be watch each other's backs, just like our dads!"

Chloe pursed her lips in a frown. "Well if Harry's SAMCRO, then I wanna be too."

Jax laughed, shaking his head. "You can't. It's for boys."

"That's stupid," she declared, pouting irritably. She licked her Popsicle so it'd stop dribbling and glared at the bike in front of her. "I'm gonna ride a bike and get a cut too; I don't care if I'm a girl… Harry's my brother and you can't have him."

"SAMCRO means we're brothers. That's the rules!"

Chloe harrumphed. "That's not fair! He was mine first and I don't wanna share!"

Sighing, he sat back, and for a few minutes, they passed the time just eating their Popsicles. She was startled when he sat up suddenly, struck with an idea.

"I got it!"

She frowned at him. "Got what?"

He turned to look at her, grinning proudly. "What if when we're old, you and me get hitched! You'll be my old lady and then you'll be Harry's sister again!"

She gave it a second's thought before declaring, "That's dumb!"

Jax's smile faded. "How come?"

"I don't wanna marry you. I just want Harry. He's my brother and I won't let you or SAMCRO or anybody have him."

"Well, that's mean, and you're being selfish."

Hopping up from her milk cart, Chloe glared at Jax, her hands fisted angrily. And then, with all the spite of a four year old, she threw her Popsicle at Jax and stomped off, shouting over her shoulder. "I'll never be your old lady, Jackson Teller!"

Wearing her pink Popsicle on his shirt, he frowned after her. "I don't wanna mean wife anyway!"

Stomping her foot, she ran off, grumbling under her breath as she went, so angry that she felt like crying. She honestly thought that Jax was going to steal her brother and then Harry wouldn't be hers anymore. He wouldn't play with her or talk to her or anything. Frustrated, she kicked a beer bottle that got into her way and went inside the club house. Ignoring everybody else she went straight to her dad, who was sitting down sharing a beer with JT.

Face flushed from her anger, she stared up at the two men until they noticed her.

"Your son is mean and you can't have Harry!" she declared.

JT and Piney stared at her, confused.

"What's happening?"

"What's this got to do with Jackson?"

"Jax is a big mean jerk. And Harry can't be SAMCRO, 'cause you can't have him, 'cause he's mine!"

The two men exchanged a look and then returned to looking at the little girl in front of them. With a sigh, Piney brought her up into his lap. "All right, kid, explain what happened…"

Taking a deep breath, she prepared to do just that. Ten minutes later, they were smiling at her indulgently.

"It's okay, Chloe," JT reassured. "Harry will always be your brother."

Worriedly, she wondered, "Really?"

He nodded, grinning gently at her. "If he wants to be SAMCRO later, that's fine, he'll be a brother of this club, but that doesn't mean he won't still be yours."

"Nobody's trying to take him away from you," Piney promised.

She looked away thoughtfully before brightening as she said, "So I don't have to marry Jackson?"

They laughed lightly at her.

"No, kid. You won't be anybody's old lady." Piney frowned protectively. "Ever."

Shrugging, she said, "Okay," before she left his lap and happily skipped over to the pool table to see what Tig and Keith were up to. She put the whole thing out of her head, dismissing it now that her fears were put to rest. She would always be Harry's sister, no matter what, and that's all she cared about.

Although, she did appreciate it when Jax found her an hour later and gave her a new Popsicle to replace the one she threw at him.


February 12, 1984

One of Chloe's favorite places to be was in her dad's side car. She had her own helmet and everything.

Piney picked her up that Sunday morning at the same time he always did, 9 am sharp. Chloe ran out the front door smiling, ignoring the way her mom shouted after her to wear her seatbelt and keep her arms in the car and, "Damn it, Piney, get a real car!" She happily hopped into her seat and let her dad do her seatbelt up for her while she put on her goggles and reached for the strap on her black helmet, a white reaper painted on the front. Bouncing in her seat, she eagerly awaited the ride.

The drive from her house to Pat's diner wasn't long, so Piney always took a different route, one that circled city limits. He grinned at her every time he looked over to see her enjoying herself. The whiz of the air passing by mixing with the growl of the Harley made her heart skitter with appreciation.

When they finally pulled into the diner, she was breathless. He helped her out of the side car and followed her slowly, in no hurry to get inside. Chloe was alive with energy though, skipping circles around him, running a few feet ahead and then backing up to fall against his legs, giggling to herself before she repeated the whole process. Piney, in his leather chaps and denim cut, looked on fondly at his playful daughter.

He caught her around the waist and hauled her up onto his shoulder, smiling as she shrieked, and walked them inside, nodding hello to the cashier before he walked down the aisle toward a booth looking out on the parking lot. He dropped Chloe down on one side, taking his own seat across from her as she righted herself, brushing her blonde hair out of her face and reaching for the menus, handing him one while she consulted hers.

The waitress stopped at their table with a glass of orange juice for Chloe and a mug of steaming coffee for Piney; their drink order never changed.

Kneeling on her seat, Chloe sucked her orange juice through a straw and looked at each of the pictures on the menu before finally deciding which she wanted and pointing at it.

A small stack of silver dollar chocolate chip pancakes stared back and Piney nodded agreeably, while he got a bigger breakfast for himself with ham, sausage and bacon.

Taking her seat properly after the waitress left, Chloe clasped her heads on the table and rested her chin on them, watching her dad thoughtfully as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, letting it dangle from his lips. He was a handsome man; tall with broad shoulders, intense blue eyes, and long, sandy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Three patches were stitched onto his cut; the two on the left read Redwood and Original, while the one on the right read First 9. Harry took after him quite a bit, while Chloe took more after her mom.

"How's home been?" her dad wondered, taking a drag off his cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders high. "Mom wants to put me in a dance class. She said I should take ballet…" Her eyes turned away. "Gabe says it costs too much."

Piney nodded, staring at her a long moment. "What about you?"

She gave it some thought, wondering if she wanted to be in ballet or not. "Ballerinas are pretty."

He hummed before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "You're pretty," he told her simply. "You don't need to be a ballerina for that… But I'll pay for you to go if you want to." He winked at her. "Just say the word."

Grinning at him, she shrugged, moving over to sip her orange juice again. Smacking her lips when she was done, she told him, "I think you're pretty too."

He laughed deeply from his belly and Chloe sat back, smiling proudly.

When their breakfast arrived, they traded conversation as they ate. Chloe told stories about Harry and Jackson while Piney nodded, humming to encourage her to keep talking. His daughter was a chatterbox; he was sure she got that from her mother and not him. And when the dishes were taken away, they still sat, with him nursing another cup of coffee while she went on and on about how Harry was always with Jackson, and what was so great about him anyway, and Harry should be in ballet with her, because he had hair just as long as hers and he was pretty too. But Jackson couldn't come, she decided.

The jealousy thing? That she got from her dad.


April 14, 1984

Chloe dragged her bag behind her, letting it bump against the back of her legs as she went, her head down and her lips pursed in a frown. Her pink leotard and tutu made her feel silly suddenly; it was too attention getting when all she wanted to do was fade into the background. The other girls walked behind her, all four, five, and six year olds. Some bigger, some smaller, some the same size. They all had their hair tied up in a ponytail or braided down their backs. Chloe felt silly about her pigtails suddenly and tugged on the end of one.

She stopped in the front foyer and searched for one of her parents; she just wanted to go home. It was usually her dad who picked her up from ballet, but since he occasionally got busy with the club, her mom or Gabe sometimes came to get her. She searched and searched but didn't set eyes on any one of them. Her mom's familiar black hair and bright green eyes were absent, her dad's towering frame donning the SAMCRO cut wasn't there to comfort her. Finally, she leaned back against a wall, sighing.

Some of the other girls passed her by, looking over at her and giggling behind their hands before they all started whispering to each other.

Chloe felt her face go bright red and kicked at her bag, turning her eyes away. As the parents all talked, so did their daughters. She could feel their eyes on her, their pointing and staring and the hurtful words she imagined they were saying. It seemed to take forever, but finally, each of the other girls was taken home by their respective parent until only Chloe remained.

It was getting dark out and she nervously looked over at her ballet teacher, a strict woman who kept sighing every few minutes, obviously tired and desperate to go home.

Just then, the door flew open, a bell jingling above it, and Chloe looked over, slumping with relief at seeing a familiar face.

Gemma Teller walked in, all swaying hips and confidence, which was only slightly hindered by the four month old baby she carried. She nodded at Chloe and offered a wry grin. "Hey, sweetheart, sorry I'm late. Your dad asked me to pick you up, said he couldn't make it. Short notice club stuff, you know?"

Shrugging, Chloe grabbed up her bag and hurried toward the door. She didn't wave at her teacher, who just looked happy to lock up and go, instead she kept her head down and followed Gemma out to her car. She was relieved to see Jackson wasn't with her, and waited quietly as Gemma strapped her son Tommy in to the seat next to Chloe before climbing back into the driver's seat. She glanced at her in the rearview mirror before turning the ignition and pulling her car out of the parking lot, leaving the small ballet studio behind.

Chloe felt a surge of relief at being away from it and slumped in her seat. She stared out the window, watching buildings and houses pass by, wishing she could see her dad before she had to go home. Or at least Harry, he always made her feel better.

It was a few minutes of silent company before Gemma wondered, "What's wrong, honey? You're usually talking my ear off…"

Instead of replying, she merely shook her head.

"Come on, you know you can tell me." Gemma drew an X on her chest. "Cross my heart, I'll keep your secrets." She winked at her.

Chloe bit her lip but finally admitted, "I don't wanna do ballet anymore."

"No?" Her brows rose slightly. "How come?"

She looked away, shrugging. Playing with the edges of her tutu, she rubbed the fabric between her fingers. "The other girls don't like me…"

Gemma was quiet for a moment. "Yeah? Why do you think that?"

Chloe blinked as tears bit at her eyes, burning. "They make fun of me… They laugh at me and whisper and they won't let me sit with them." She shrugged. "Nobody wanted to be my partner." Reaching up, she rubbed a fist against her eye to swipe away her tears. "They said I was weird, and daddy was a bad person, and I shouldn't be there."

"Those little bitches," Gemma muttered. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head and abruptly pulled her car over to the curb. Turning in her seat, she stared at Chloe seriously. "Listen up and listen close… You're gonna meet a lot of people in your life and some of them are going to be grade-A jerks! They're not all going to like you and you're not going to like all of them. Case in point…" She nodded at her. "You like any of those girls who were mean to you?"

She frowned, taking a second before she shook her head. "They were mean." Slumping in her seat, she sighed. "I wish Harry wanted to be a ballerina."

Gemma's lips twitched. "Yeah, well, I don't think that wish is coming true anytime soon…"

Chloe scowled.

"Listen, kid, if there's one thing I know it's that you can't rely on anybody else, especially not a man… You want something in this life, you gotta take it. And don't wait around for somebody else to tell you to or to drive the get-away car." She shook her head. "Harry's not going to be there forever. You've gotta stand on your own two feet sometime, so why not now?" Gemma raised an eyebrow. "You like ballet?"

She considered the question. Truth be told, yes, she loved dancing and her tutu and it was nice to have something that was all her own.

"Okay then." She nodded. "Be a ballerina then. Don't let those little girls tell you what you can and can't be. They don't get to decide. If you want to be a ballerina, you be the best damn one in the class. You show them that you're better than them and their petty bullshit. You don't need them! You don't need anyone but yourself!" She stared at her encouragingly. "Right?"

Chloe smiled slowly. "Right."

"So where are you going to be next Sunday?"

"Ballet class."

"And who's going to be the best ballerina Charming ever saw?"

"Me!"

"That's right." Grinning smugly, Gemma turned back around to pull the car back onto the road. "Just dance your little ass off, Chloe. Everybody else, they don't matter. You do what you want, you don't let anyone tell you different, and you're gonna do just fine in this world."

Sitting back in her seat, feeling a lot better about the situation, Chloe smiled to herself.

She liked the way Gemma thought.


September 4, 1984

Chloe shifted her feet back and forth, tugging on the straps of her brand new backpack. "I don't want to," she murmured, looking worriedly at the kindergarten class filled with unfamiliar faces. "I wanna go back to the club…"

"You can't come back to the club right now," Piney said, kneeling down next to her. "You remember when Harry started school? How much you wanted to go too?"

She nodded, chewing her lip. "But Harry's not in my class…"

"No, but he's around the school. If you need him for anything, you can find him."

Her eyes fell and she glared at the runners her mom picked out for her. "How about I go to school tomorrow and I go to the club today…?" She looked up at him hopefully. "I won't tell momma, I promise."

He half-smiled, shaking his head. "You're almost too good at that puppy dog look, kid." With a sigh, he kissed the top of her head and stood, giving her a little nudge between her shoulders. "You're gonna do fine. Make some friends, learn the alphabet."

"I already know the alphabet," she huffed, pouting.

"Well, you still need friends."

"Nu-uh! I don't need anybody!" Sticking her chin out, she added, "And besides, I've got Harry… And Jackson's all right." She rolled her eyes. It was no secret that Chloe was jealous of Jackson, if only because he was Harry's best friend. The only good thing was that this year Jax had a little brother now too, who he was spending a lot more time at home with, watching over him. But Tommy couldn't come to school, so that meant Jax would probably take up all of Harry's time, leaving none for her.

Amused, Piney simply grinned at her. "Get in there, Chloe. Show 'em how smart you are."

Sighing, she took a few steps forward. "You'll come get me after?"

He nodded. "I promised you ice cream, didn't I?"

She beamed then. "With sprinkles?"

"With whatever you want on top."

With an extra skip in her step, she hopped forward into the classroom; she wasn't looking forward to her first day of school, just what came after, but it was a start.


August 24, 1985

Chloe pushed against the heavy door of the club house with all her might, her shoulder pressed against the scratchy wood. She grunted at the exertion it took, before finally it swung open under her, easy as could be. She lit up happily, only to hear a chuckle behind her. Looking up, she saw a hand braced high above on the door, silver rings adorning his fingers. Tipping her head back further, she found her Uncle Tig grinning at her. A former marine, he was a feral looking man in his late-twenties, with springy black hair, a black goatee, and round blue eyes that always seemed to pop intensely.

"You s'pose to be here, half-pint?"

She grinned toothily.

Shaking his head, he nodded his chin for her to go ahead.

Racing forward, she darted behind the bar and grabbed out two cold bottles of beer from the fridge before she raced back out. She found her dad sitting on a couch, nodding his head to something Uncle Lenny was saying while Otto, who she always thought looked comically short compared to the others, especially Lenny, who was built like a tank, kept leaning forward, trying and failing to interrupt. Chloe hopped onto her dad's knee without warning and, before he could tell her to be careful, held a beer out for him.

With a half-grin, he took it, unscrewing the top and guzzling a good portion. He eyed the other bottle she held in the crook of her arm and wondered, "You startin' early, kid?"

She shook her head and then turned, holding the bottle out with both hands until Tig swaggered on by, heels of his heavy boots clicking, and took it, winking at her playfully.

"There's a good princess," he said, before wandering off to stand with Clay Morrow, who was getting his pool cue ready for a game.

"You always like the strange ones," her dad said, bumping her head with his nose affectionately.

Chloe shrugged. "Tig's funny."

"He's crazy," Otto told her, brows ticked up. He didn't say it like it was an insult but an observation.

Rolling her eyes, she frowned over at him. "I heard daddy call you 'L'il Killer'…" she reminded.

With a smirk, he told her, "We're all a little crazy."

She snorted and then wiggled her way off of Piney's knee. "Where's Jacky and Opie?" she asked, although she huffed a bit at the name. Her brother had recently decided that he didn't like the name Harry and wanted to be called Opie instead. For some reason, everybody thought it was a great idea. To Chloe's thinking, her brother, for all his gangly appearance of too long legs and arms, was actually half hair. She didn't think Mary had ever cut it, and it hung clear past his shoulders. "Harry" fit him just fine.

"They're shooting BB guns out back," her dad said, and started to warn her away from it, but she'd already turned on her heel to chase after them. "Don't get yourself shot out there, Chloe. Your mom'll never let me see you again."

"She already doesn't!" Chloe yelled back, never faltering in her steps.

The club laughed lightheartedly, with Otto jabbing a shoulder at Piney.

Chloe came to a quiet stop just behind Opie and Jackson, who weren't aiming their BB guns at the paper targets in the distance, but instead the empty bottles they'd nicked from inside.

"Did dad say you could do that?" she wondered.

Opie jumped, whirling around in surprise. "What the heck, Chloe? I could've shot you!"

"Not with your aim," Jackson snorted, grinning as he raised his gun and took a shot, hitting a brown bottle and knocking it off the oil drum it sat upon. He started pumping his gun again and turned to face them, one of his eyes closed against the sun. "What're you doin' out here, Chlo? Thought your mom said you couldn't visit the club house anymore…"

She shrugged. "I'm not visiting the club house, I'm visiting Ope," she answered defiantly.

Her brother shook his head, probably because he was tired of having Moira yell at him to stay away from her daughter, but Jackson laughed under his breath. "You're a real rebel… Bet you make Piney proud."

She looked over at her brother, who was more than a head taller than her. "Can I try?" she hoped, looking at the BB gun he held.

He took a step back and frowned. "No way. You'll probably take out an eye and your mom'll kill me. And then my mom will kill me 'cause I was around Moira long enough for her to kill me."

"Don't be such a baby," Chloe muttered. "Dad never complains this much and mom yells at him all the time."

Opie shushed her and then looked around worriedly. "Don't say that so loud… If my mom finds out dad's seen Moira at all, she'll kill him in his sleep…"

"Mary never comes to the club house," she argued before moving over to them. "Come on, Opie, please! Just one shot!"

"Couldn't hurt," Jackson piped up.

Sighing, Opie glared at him and then turned around, holding his BB gun out for her.

Cheering, she hopped over excitedly and took it from him.

"Okay, now you gotta aim like this…" Adjusting it in her arms, Opie got her ready to take a shot, nervously standing next to her and looking around to make sure nobody saw. "Dad's gonna shoot me if he sees you."

She snorted. "Uncle Tig let me hold his gun last week."

"What? He doesn't even let me look at it!"

Laughing under her breath, she shrugged. "I'm cuter than you."

"Whatever," he muttered grumpily. "Just take your shot."

Chloe aimed at the bottle and took a deep breath in. She held it as she squeezed the trigger and then let it out on a whoop as she hit the bottle enough that it teetered. It didn't fall, but it was close enough.

Opie clapped for her, while Jackson grinned. "She did better than you on her first try, Ope."

"All right, all right, give it here," her brother said, reaching for the BB gun.

She let him take it, in part because she knew he'd let her try again. Her brother might try at being tough, but in the end he was a softy and he almost always gave in when it was Chloe asking. He was protective, sure, but he could also be a pushover. It was something she'd learned early on, when he'd give up playing with Jackson and instead sat and entertained her when she was too little to join him on the jungle gym. Opie, despite only being a year and a half older than her, acted like he was much older and had to keep her safe from everything. She didn't mind it much; in the end, he was her favorite person.

Lenny popped his head out back, tossing one finished cigarette from his lips and replacing it with another. For a man who paid so much attention to his health, she always thought it rather odd how much he smoked. Three packs a day, he went through them one after the other, but still looked to be in better health than anybody else in the club. A weight-lifter, Lenny was no slouch; in fact, he'd tried more than once to get Opie and Jax to try working out or lifting weights.

"Pack it up, you lot, time to come in," he called to them before heading back inside, his hulking frame disappearing from sight.

The sun was setting and Chloe knew she'd probably have to head home soon if she didn't want her mom storming the club house and kicking up a fuss like she had far too many times in the past. If she was lucky, she might send her step-dad instead, but she only did that if she was having a bad day or her episodes were worse.

Chloe chased after Opie and Jackson as they moved through the club, with Jax veering to the right, toward his mom, who was sitting on the edge of the pool table, her hand gripping JT's cut, pulling him in for a kiss, while Opie maneuvered around to find his dad, who'd moved to a stool by the bar and was talking with Wally.

Piney looked down at his son and then behind him to Chloe. "Get your sister home before Moira comes callin', and then get home yourself," he ordered.

Opie nodded and turned to leave, but Chloe hopped over, feet balanced on the middle rung of the stool and held her cheek up. With a laugh, Piney kissed it.

"Get outta here, kid. I'll see you tomorrow. We'll get breakfast at Pat's." He ruffled her hair affectionately before turning back to Wally.

Turning to leave, she grinned at Tig, behind the bar, as he held a hand out for her to high-five when she passed. She did so as hard as she could before turning on her heel and racing after Opie, who managed to get the door open just fine.

"Hurry up, I wanna go home. Mom's makin' chicken fingers for dinner!" he said over his shoulder.

Chloe ran right up behind him until she was close enough to leap, and landed on his back with a laugh. He grunted at the added weight, but caught her under her knees and gave her the piggyback ride she wanted. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she rested her chin on her elbow and observed the people and cars passing by her.

"What're you having for dinner?" Opie wondered.

She frowned thoughtfully. "I dunno. I think Gabe's bringing home something. Mom's been kinda weird, so she doesn't cook much."

He hummed and, after a minute, asked, "She still spacing out?"

"Yeah… Used to be for just a couple minutes, but it seems like longer now… Gabe says I should just go outside and play when she does, but… I dunno." Her mom's episodes were a topic she didn't always like to talk about. Piney didn't ask after them often, but Opie worried about them. Opie always worried.

"You should come find me when she does. We'll go to the park or something."

Chloe grinned. "Sure."

"I'm serious. What if she does something and she doesn't remember? Like, what if she hurts you?"

Her eyes fell for a moment before she shook her head. "No, she doesn't do anything. She just sits there and stares. And then, after a while, she just… wakes up."

"I still don't like it."

"Well, tough cookies."

Chloe wiggled until he let her down and walked beside him instead. They weren't far from her place anyway, turning down the alley that would lead to her backyard.

After walking in silence for a while, he reached over and shoved her shoulder. Smiling, she shoved him back, and so they went, nudging and pushing each other the rest of the way, laughing as the other stumbled. It took longer than it should have to get to her yard, but it was fun. As they stopped outside her gate, she turned to say goodbye.

"Hey, bring me something back from Pat's. Dad always forgets."

"Pancakes with extra bacon," she said knowingly.

He nodded happily before turning to continue down the alley. His house was a few blocks over, but he knew a shortcut.

Turning on her heel, she locked the gate and raced across the backyard, hop-scotching as she went, before jumping up the stairs and making her way inside, happy that the screen door was open since it always squeaked when she pulled on it.

Her mom was in the living room, she could just make out the back of her head. As she got closer, she realized that her mom was staring blankly at the floor, her eyes a little wide. It would be a few minutes before she was out of it, so Chloe made her way to her bedroom, deciding that at least her mom's episode meant she wouldn't get in trouble for being at the club. Maybe there was an upside to the whole thing…

[Next: Part Two.]


Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who took a chance reading this. Obviously it's not an often (ever?) seen crossover, but I've been working on this for some time and, after some lovely feedback on Tumblr, decided to post the first part to see how it was received. As you can see it's a Chloe-centric fic, but Jax starts to play more of a part as time goes on and Opie is definitely seen a lot more.

I will add that there are some themes throughout this story that I don't personally agree with but that occur in Sons of Anarchy that fit the characters or situation. So please try to remember that while reading. Anything I write is in the point of view of that character, not of my personal opinion.

Especially because this crossover has never been done, and I'm not sure how many will be reading, please try to leave a review so I know if this is something I should keep posting. I'm already 60,000+ words into it, so there's plenty to read. Just let me know what you think!

Thank you all for reading!

- Lee | Fina