A/N: I do not own anything about Sons of Anarchy. It belongs completely to Kurt Sutter, and I am just so glad to be allowed to play in the wonderful world he created.
This will be a romance story, but I haven't figured out the pairings yet. So… assume nothing. Mwuahahahaha!
Also, you guys know I get alerts when the story is followed/favorited, right? So that means I know there are lurkers reading, but not reviewing, and that makes me very sad… *does Juice puppy dog eyes* So, please review.
Chapter Two
"Do ye need help carryin' anythin'?" Chibs asked as he got off his bike and came around to where Charlie was standing at the tailgate of her truck. When she had packed up her apartment, Charlie had donated a lot of the furniture to Goodwill because there was no use in trying to rent a U-Haul big enough to cart it all back down to Charming. Instead, she had focused on packing all of her clothes, books, and pictures, and they were all piled in the bed of her truck now.
"No, I'm good. I just have this little duffel bag right here." Charlie said, patting the bag that was closest to the tailgate. "I packed the truck with necessities in mind. It would be silly for me to have to dig through all of my clothing just to find something to wear to the funeral."
"Alright. Follow me, then." Chibs said, giving her a small smile and heading up the driveway to the front door.
It was a small house, but from the outside, it looked very nice. The lawn was nicely manicured. There was a covered carport where he parked his bike, and an older model Camaro was parked to the side of the carport in a paved portion of the driveway. Charlie had parked her truck lower in the driveway, but she left enough room for him to get his bike out if he needed to leave for some reason. Chibs unlocked the front door and turned on a light, moving into the living room so that Charlie could come further into the house. The inside was clean and neatly organized, but it was clear that a man lived here. Sons of Anarchy memorabilia lined the walls and there was a Scottish flag hanging on the wall above the fireplace. The furniture wasn't brand new, but it wasn't old and ragged either. Charlie took a deep breath and smiled as the mixture of cigarette smoke, cologne, and musk filled her head. This is what a man smelled like. Charlie had dated during her time in Seattle, but the men of academia never fully satisfied her need for a man. And the man who had… well, she didn't want to think about that horrendous mistake in her judgement. Charlie realized that she was simply staring around the room, and that Chibs was looking slightly self-conscious and uncomfortable.
"It's great!" Charlie said, smiling at him. "Really. Much better than a hotel. Thank you so much."
Chibs nodded his head and headed down the hallway. "The guest room is the first one on the left, and mine is right next door. The bathroom is down at the end of the hall on the right. If ye want to put yer bag in the bedroom, we can go see what's in the kitchen for dinner." Chibs gave her the grand tour, ending outside of the guest bedroom. Charlie stepped inside the room and set her duffel bag on the bed. She unzipped the top, took her Makarov pistol out of her bag, and tucked into the waistband of her jeans behind her back. She turned around to see Chibs looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Well Donna was gunned down as Niner retaliation, right? I may have been gone for six years, but I haven't forgotten what it's like to live the club life." Charlie said to him as she walked past him towards the kitchen.
Chibs rifled through the freezer and the refrigerator, but couldn't find anything that he wanted for dinner, so Charlie pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number to Murphy's pizza.
"What kind of pizza do you like?" She asked as the phone rang.
"Ye still remember the number to Murphy's?" Chibs asked, then added, "Anythin' with meat on it."
Charlie laughed. "Murphy's hasn't changed their phone number since I was a kid. It's one thing you can rely on."
Charlie ordered them a pizza and then pulled some cash out of her pocket for when the delivery guy showed up. Chibs grunted and said, "Yer my guest. Ye'll not pay for dinner."
"Yes, I will. Because you're offering your home to me, and I'm going to drink whatever liquor you have in the house. Preferably whiskey." Charlie replied as she started to pick at her nails, looking up at him briefly to give him a smirk. Chibs let out a short bark of laughter and nodded.
"I can handle that." He said as he walked to a cabinet beside the fridge and pulled out a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels. Charlie eyed the bottle, and Chibs let out another laugh. "Don't worry, I've got another bottle that hasn't been opened."
Charlie and Chibs had finished the first bottle of Jack and half of the pizza before Charlie realized that she and Chibs were acting like old friends who had just reconnected after a long time apart. He was so easy to talk to, and he listened so well, but he also had no problem opening up and telling stories about what had happened while she was gone. She told him about her time in Seattle, about classes and waitressing at the restaurant a few blocks from her apartment until she turned twenty-one, and then she'd started bartending. He told her about Tig transferring from Tacoma, about Juice prospecting and eventually patching in, and about the new prospect, Half-Sack, and how much fun they had torturing him. He also told her about Jax, his ex-wife, and Abel, and about how Tara had come home, and about Bobby being arrested for murder. There was so much that Charlie had missed, like her brother spending the majority of her college years in jail, and Charlie started to resent missing all of the developments in Charming.
Chibs, seeming to pick up on her rapidly declining mood, finished his glass of Jack and started to pick things up. "We'd better get to bed. It's going ta be a long day tomorrow, an' we don' need ta be hungover." He said, closing the lid on the pizza box and taking it to the fridge.
Charlie nodded, but filled her glass with Jack one more time so that she could take it to bed with her. She helped Chibs clean up and turn out the lights, then they headed down the hallway.
"If ye need anythin' just yell or bang on the door." Chibs told her as she headed into the guest room. Before she shut the door, he added, "And don' shoot anythin' unless yer sure it's not me. Goodnight."
Charlie laughed and responded with a "good night" as well. She closed the door and placed her glass and the Makarov on the bedside table. She had pulled her tank top over her head when she heard the door open.
"Ye left yer cell phone in the living room. I heard it – Jesus Christ!" Chibs' calm voice had turned rough when he finally looked up and saw her. Charlie quickly pulled the tank top back on, but she knew that Chibs had seen the scars on her back. "Charlotte…"
"Thanks for my phone, Chibs." Charlie said, grabbing the phone from his hand. "Goodnight." She pushed him out of the room and shut the door in his face. She leaned her forehead against the wooden door, cursing Chibs' timing. She didn't know whether he would tell her brother or not, but she'd been in Charming less than 24 hours and already someone knew about her back. This wasn't a good sign.
When Charlie emerged from the guest room, showered and dressed for the funeral, she found Chibs in the kitchen drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. "There's more coffee on the counter, and cereal in the cabinet above the stove. Bowls in the cabinet to the right." He said, not looking up from the newspaper. Charlie nodded and made herself a bowl of cereal and sat down across from him at the kitchen table. He didn't look up the entire time she ate, and she didn't know how to take that. Did that mean that he wasn't going to tell Opie, or did that mean that he already had?
"Listen, about last night-" Charlie began, but Chibs cut her off.
"I didn't see anythin'." Chibs said pointedly, looking at her around the newspaper. "Now, finish your cereal and let's get going. The procession starts at ten."
Charlie made it through the funeral without too many tears, but every time she looked at her niece and nephew, her heart broke a little more and she wanted retribution for their pain and suffering. Children deserved to grow up with a mother and a father. Charlie admitted that, even though she resented her own mother for trying to pry her away from the club and her father when she was young. All Charlie ever wanted when she was little was to wear the patch like her dad, to be a member of the club, to devote her life to the club. But her mother constantly stomped on those dreams, reminding her that it was the Sons of Anarchy, and that she didn't have a place in the club unless she wanted to be a shadow for a real member. Charlie would never forgive her mother for not even allowing her daughter to dream about being a member.
After the funeral, Opie and her mom took the kids to his house and the rest of the club and Charlie headed back to the clubhouse. Charlie was now three glasses deep in Jack Daniels, and she didn't really see a reason to stop. The clubhouse was subdued because no one really felt like partying, but there were a few crow eaters hanging around, willing to offer comfort to those who needed it.
"Hey, we haven't really met. I'm Juice." Juice sat down beside her, smiling as he took a sip from his beer bottle. "I just wanted to say welcome back. Everyone's been talking about Charlie coming home, and I'm glad you're here."
Charlie smiled back at him. "Thank you, Juice. Welcome to the family, although it's belated."
Juice's grin widened, if that was possible. "I love it here. This club is the best family I've ever had."
Charlie nodded, looking down into her whiskey and twirling the glass. "They are great. Just be careful that the reaper doesn't cloud every choice you make, okay?" Charlie drained her glass and stood up.
"Why? What do you mean?" Juice's eyebrows connected together as he scrunched up his face.
Charlie patted him on the shoulder. "You never know how much that fucking reaper means to you until he rejects you, sweetie."
Charlie walked away, letting Juice contemplate what she said. She stumbled a little as she headed toward the door, and she knew that she shouldn't drive, so she decided to get a little air before she returned to call for a cab. Charlie walked outside and lit a cigarette, taking a deep drawl as she walked towards the motorcycles that were lined up outside the garage. She walked slowly down the line, smoking her cigarette and taking in the motorcycles that belong to members of the club, both SAMCRO and others who had come down for Donna's funeral to show support for the club.
"Can I help you?" A deep gravely voice asked from behind her.
Charlie jumped, twirling around to see a figure coming towards her from the garage.
"I was just looking at the bikes. I'm just getting used to being back here." She responded, realizing that he wore a Sons of Anarchy kutte, but that he was from the Tacoma charter. She studied his face, and then it hit her. "You're Happy, from Tacoma, right? I saw you a couple times with Kozik."
Happy stared at her, his dark eyes roaming from the top of her pixie haircut, down the front of her black blouse, pausing at her modest cleavage, then continuing down her jean clad legs and settling on her cowboy boots, then looking back up into her green eyes. "You're Charlie Winston."
"Yeah. Jesus Christ, you almost scared me to death." Charlie said, placing her hand over her heart and taking a deep drag off her cigarette. Then she chuckled. "Although, I guess for you, that would be an achievement of epic proportions. Not even needing tools anymore."
Happy just looked at her, those dark eyes staring straight through her. Charlie nodded, turning away and starting back towards the clubhouse, but she stopped. Turning back to him, she asked, "So you know anything about what's bothering Jax? At the funeral today… That was something."
Happy didn't respond, but just continued to look at her. "Right." Charlie said. "Club business." She continued back to the clubhouse, not really concerned with the fact that she didn't get an answer about the tension within the charter. She would figure it out – she just had to find the person with the most information and a soft spot for her.